Politics in an age of advanced technology

Technology has transformed and deformed our long-evolved political order and it is likely to do more of that. A technologically enabled economic and financial system has certainly diminished the regulatory power of the state. Goods, services, and people can now move easily across continents, not always under the control of governments. Pictures, words, ideas, and information are massively channeled within and between political systems, often defying the power of states but also often abetting it. At the same time, the state’s tools of surveillance and repression have become definitely more effective. Its military strength has vastly increased and can be projected over wider distances. We notice, thus, a diminution of state power in some respects, but also an increase in others.

It’s worth returning at this point to an almost forgotten classic: Jacques Ellul’s masterwork The Technological Society (La technique) of 1954 which anticipated much of this development. With respect to the technological transformation of both economics and the state, Ellul wrote at the time: “The fact that the economy and the state are reciprocally joined is technically founded in such a way that the two tend to become aspects of the same phenomenon, a phenomenon which, moreover, is not the result of a simple accretion of previous phenomena. It seems to me particularly important to emphasize this new character. Because of the existence of techniques we are beyond the problems of ordinary étatism or of socialism. It is not the simple phenomenon of the growth of power or the struggle against capitalism which is decisive here. We are witnessing the birth of a new organism, the technical state.” (Quoted from the English translation of 1964, pp. 196-197)

In describing this development, Ellul emphasizes the distinction between the technological machinery (implements, tools, and instruments) and the techniques we have developed to produce, use, and interact with this machinery. For Ellul our society is, first and foremost, a society of techniques, rather than strictly speaking a technological society. (The title of the English version of Ellul’s book is thus potentially misleading.) He anticipates in this way by twenty years Michel Foucault’s famous examination of disciplinary society in Discipline and Punish. Ellul’s “technique” and Foucault’s “disciplines” are, indeed, closely allied notions. Where they differ is that Ellul pays more attention to the way techniques interact with technology.

The two agree, however, in the way they see human beings embedded in the resulting social order and determined by it rather than as independent, autonomous agents. Ellul writes: “Let no one say that man is the agent of technical progress … and that it is he who chooses among possible techniques … He is a device for recording effects and results obtained by various techniques … He decides only in favor of the technique that gives the maximum efficiency.” (p. 80) Ellul commits himself thus to a technological determinism that certainly needs scrutiny. Is he right, for instance, when he adds later on: “It was not the public which demanded air travel and television. Technical progress created these things, and they were technically diffused and imposed on the public.” (pp. 212-213) It is true that the public did not demand air travel or television before their invention. But this does not mean that they were “imposed” on it. We are dealing rather with the creation of new desires based on others that are more fundamental and that are certainly not the product of technical manipulation. First, there was the desire motivating the inventors of these devices. Then came the new possibilities created by their inventions and these, in turn, stirred previously dormant desires in the public. Without our more basic drive to move and our basic desire for visual stimulation, these inventions might not have taken off. But Ellul is right when he concludes that all that is natural and that is natural in us gets transformed in the technological society. “Economic technique tends less to eliminate the natural than to integrate it … But when the natural is integrated, it ceases to be natural. It is an element of the mechanism, an element which must play its role.” (p. 217)

Ellul’s is, however, not only a technological determinism but also an economic one. He believes that in the technological society “maximum efficiency” and “utility” are the determining factors. He writes accordingly: “The development of techniques is responsible for the staggering phenomenon of absorption by economics of all social activities.” (p. 158) And he adds: “Economic life, not in its content, but in its direction will henceforth entirely elude popular control. No democracy is possible in the face of a perfect economic technique. The decisions of the voters, and even of the elected, are oversimplified, incoherent, technically inadmissible. It is a grave illusion to believe, that democratic control or decision-making can be reconciled with economic technique.” (p. 162) And it follows for Ellul that: “Popular will can only express itself within the limits that technical necessities have fixed in advance.” (p. 209) But then the question is what we understand by efficiency and utility. For a medieval Christian, the erection of a cathedral would have been useful in a way in which it is no longer for us and constructing it with the help of craftsmen and prayer would have been the most efficient way to do so. Usefulness is, after all, a transitive notion. Things are never useful in themselves but always for something else. So, the question becomes what our technology is meant to be useful for and that may not be determined by technology itself.

Ellul has few illusions as to where technological development will take us. “History shows that every technical application from its beginnings presents certain unforeseeable secondary effects which are much more disastrous than the lack of technique would have been. These effects must exist alongside those effects which were foreseen and expected and which represent something valuable and positive.” (p. 105) Among the secondary effects of technological development are extensive new means of social control. “The techniques of the police,” he writes, have as their necessary end the transformation of the entire nation into a concentration camp. This is no perverse decision on the part of some party or government.” He is using this provocative language in order to indicate the coming of what we would now call the surveillance state. “To be sure of apprehending criminals, it is necessary that everyone be supervised. It is necessary to know exactly what every citizen is up to, to know his relations, his amusements, etc. And the state is increasingly in a position to know these things.” (p. 100)

Ellul is convinced that technological development will go on to shape and reshape our political order. Differences in the theories of government will not make much difference to this. Capitalism and communism, democratic and non-democratic systems of government will all be affected in the same way. “The structure of the modern state and its organs of government are subordinate to the techniques on not dependent on the state. If we were to consider in turn each of the indispensable services of the modern state, we would find that they are becoming more and more alike, regardless of the theories of government under which they operate.” (p. 271)

Critical questions are certainly appropriate concerning Ellul’s claims. For one thing, he ignores non-technological factors that direct and inhibit technological development. Among these are the environment, the availability or poverty of resources, financial constraints, as well as the beliefs of those creating and using technological means. Ellul, moreover, does not see that there might be alternative technologies available and that, hence, choices exist in what kind of technology to develop. (See Andrew Feenberg, Alternative Modernities). He also fails to take into account that concentrations of power may lead to a new dispersion of power and that dispersed power has always within it a disruptive potential. (See Sluga, Politics and the Search for the Common Good, chapter 8)

The Battle for Hegemony in the Middle East

The Battle for Hegemony in the Middle East
Einat Wilf
Australian Strategic Policy Institute
May 2017

Dr Einat Wilf is a Harvard and Cambridge trained political analyst. Her foreign policy and analysis roles include Baye Foundation Adjunct Fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, Senior Fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute, consultant with McKinsey & Co, Intelligence Officer in the Israeli Defense Forces, and Foreign Policy Advisor to Shimon Peres when he was Israel’s Vice Prime Minister. While a member of the Israeli parliament, Dr Wilf served on its prestigious Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee.

Acknowledgment: The author thanks Noah Slepkov for his research assistance

The Game

The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and new cannot be born, and in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.
—Antonio Gramsci, The prison notebooks, 1929–1935

The story of the Middle East for decades to come is of a battle for the hegemony of Sunni Islam, especially in the Arab world, and of the efforts by non-Sunni Muslims and non-Muslims to ensure that no dominant Sunni power capable of uniting the Sunni Arab world, and ultimately the Sunni world more broadly, emerges.

The Sunni world in general, and the Arab Sunni world in particular, lies in ruins. In some cases, quite literally. However, the current malaise of the Sunni Arab world shouldn’t cover the simple fact that Sunni Muslims make up the majority of Muslims around the world and that the Arab world is almost exclusively Sunni. After the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, due to the intervention of the conquering British and French powers, Sunni Arabs had little to say about their political organisation. Now that they are emerging from a century-long political hiatus, a united Sunni Arab world constitutes one of the biggest, but still contestable, geopolitical prizes.

Whereas borders have been drawn, alliances have been determined and clear regional hegemons have emerged on most of the world’s landmass, in the Middle East borders have been erased by the political sandstorm that was the Arab Spring, structures and alliances have been broken and no natural hegemon has yet emerged. Yet, this was a region that was united in the past and therefore has the potential to be united again.

Should a united Sunni Arab polity emerge, especially if it unites under the banner of the more extreme interpretations of Islam, it could constitute an existential threat to the non-Sunni, non-Arab and non-Muslim minorities of the Middle East. Those minorities therefore have no greater strategic imperative than to ensure that no such polity, as well as no hegemonic power capable of creating such a polity, emerges. The defence and diplomatic policies of the minorities of the Middle East should be understood as having been crafted to serve that end.

The policies of the Middle East’s non-Sunni and non-Muslim minorities echo the famous description of British foreign policy towards Europe, as put forth in the legendary comedy ‘Yes, Minister’:

Britain has had the same foreign policy objective for at least the last 500 years: to create a disunited Europe. In that cause we have fought with the Dutch against the Spanish, with the Germans against the French, with the French and Italians against the Germans, and with the French against the Germans and Italians.
In the Middle East, the role of Britain in that scenario is played by Iran, Israel and Russia, which, despite their rivalries, all share the consistent goal of a disunited Middle East and are willing to form whatever alliances are necessary to that end.

Sunni actors, for their part, seek to consolidate their position as viable contenders for hegemony of the Sunni world in general and the Sunni Arab world in particular, while at the very least preventing any other serious contender from emerging. Part of becoming a viable contender involves also putting in place domestic policies that help bolster the credibility of the claimant to leadership—be it a state or a non-state actor—among the Sunni Muslims of the region.

Other grand narratives put forward for understanding the Middle East, such as ‘the battle between Sunna and Shia Islam’, fail to take note of the vast disparity in area and numbers between Sunni and Shia Islam, as well as the near impossibility of Shia Islam dominating the peoples and lands of Sunni Islam. At 10–15%, Shia are the minority in Islam (Figure 1). Outside Iran, Azerbaijan and certain areas of Iraq, they are a beleaguered minority, with Iran as their only protector. This is also the case for Shias in diaspora communities around the world. Shia Islam, as led by Iran, struggles not so much for domination of the Middle East, which a Shia Persian power can hardly expect to achieve, as much as to prevent the emergence of a united Sunni Arab force that would threaten it.
Iran’s Islamist revolution of 1979 might have served to bolster Iran’s regional credibility as a Muslim republic, but it also showed that its brand of Islam remains contested and even denied and denigrated in the region. Iran’s claim to Islamic leadership can at most be understood as a defence against the notion, frequently promulgated by Sunni Muslims, that it’s an illegitimate and heretical nation.

Iran’s nuclear policies are also better understood in this light. Iran is not only influenced by the possession of nuclear weapons by Pakistan, but is also a minority power seeking to defend itself against the threat of an emerging hegemon. Iran has walked the fine line between pursuing nuclear capabilities and becoming an actual nuclear weapons power. Walking that fine line has been a carefully crafted policy designed to convey deterrence through the projection of Iran’s capacity to develop nuclear weapons, while not going so far as developing weapons that would drive its opponents to also seek full nuclear capabilities that would threaten it in turn.

The Players

The battle to replace the lost hegemony of the Ottoman Empire is waged among those who could credibly claim leadership of the Sunni world over which it once held sway. The serious players in this game are primarily Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and new Islamist contenders claiming to represent the vision of an Islamic state, or caliphate.

Turkey is the direct heir of the Ottoman Empire and was home to the last accepted caliph, or ruler of the Muslim world. As such, Turkey can make a powerful claim to reuniting the Sunni world under its leadership. However, its development after World War I, in which Ataturk remade it into a modern secular state with a Western orientation, including its disavowal of the role of a caliph, has rendered it for some time an irrelevant player in the game for Sunni dominance. Turkey, like much of the Sunni world that its empire once controlled, is reawakening from its ‘lost century’ to contest its role as leader of the Sunni world.

As a non-Arab country, Turkey is at a disadvantage as it seeks to unite mostly Sunni Arabs. Erdogan’s election and policies—which have solidified Turkey’s turn away from the EU and the West towards the Middle East and Caucasus region—have served to slowly remake Turkey into an Islamic country with solid Islamic credentials. To an extent, Erdogan’s domestic policies are the Turkish equivalent of Iran’s Islamic revolution. However, whereas Iran’s Islamic revolution is useful at most to defend Iran against claims of illegitimacy and heresy, which a Shia and Persian country needs to address, Turkey’s gradual Islamic revolution, combined with its Ottoman heritage, help to position it as a credible claimant to hegemony over the Sunni world.

Unlike Turkey, Saudi Arabia is undeniably both Arab and Islamic. It’s the birthplace of Islam and the fountain of the Arab conquests. Saudi Arabia possesses prized assets in the battle for Sunni Arab leadership. They include the sacred cities of Mecca and Medina, its Arabism and of course its control of much of the world’s oil reserves and the power to set prices, although that’s now weakened by the US. Since the 1970s, Saudi Arabia has successfully used its oil wealth to promote its brand of puritanical Islam—Wahhabism—around the world. In that process, it has changed and even undermined countries from Mauritania to Malaysia, from Ethiopia to Pakistan.

Ostensibly partners of the West in the war on terror, the Saudis have been called ‘both the arsonists and the firefighters’.1 Under the cover of cultural exchanges and charities, Saudi Arabia has spent an estimated US$75–100 billion2 exporting extremist ideology by building mosques, publishing textbooks, training imams, establishing TV stations and creating organisations such as the World Muslim League, the World Assembly of Muslim Youth and the International Islamic Relief Organization.3 A 2005 report estimated that Saudi Arabia spent $120 million inside Australia’s Islamic community.4 Meanwhile, foreign workers who arrive in the kingdom from South Asia return home under the sway of Wahhabism and magnify Saudi Arabia’s influence.

Saudi Arabia has a powerful claim to uniting the Arab and Sunni Muslim worlds, as Mohammed and his caliphs did from the seventh to the tenth century. However it’s a fragile country, especially as questions of succession loom large. It has staked the legitimacy of its rule on an alliance with the most fundamentalist form of Islam—a form that has blown back to inspire Islamist contenders such as al-Qaeda and the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS) to challenge the legitimacy of the current Saudi regime. Moreover, the Saudis’ substantial and visible assets, including their military apparatus and purchases, are a valuable target for any claimant wanting to lead and unite the Sunni Arab world. Islamist non-state actors consider deposing the ruling family a necessary step towards uniting the Sunni Arabs. Saudi Arabia finds itself suspended between laying a claim to leadership and becoming a major battleground among other Sunni forces fighting for hegemony.

The Saudi ruling family faces grave danger from non-state Islamic contenders that have made clear their ambitions to unite Sunni Arabs under their leadership. Those contenders, whether al-Qaeda, the intentionally named Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant, or any of the various groups that have been inspired by the Saudis’ extremist interpretation of Islam and the notion of separating true believers from heretics, all contend that they have the purest and therefore the best credentials for leading the Sunni Arab world. They also have a clearly stated ambition to do so. In the quest to attain hegemony, they seek to control assets, such as those possessed by Saudi Arabia.

The campaign of terror waged by non-state Islamist groups should be understood as a two-pronged campaign to:

• position themselves as the only ones committed to an all-out Islamic war against the West
• delegitimise any other possible contenders for the position of Sunni Arab leadership.

By attacking the West, they can more easily portray Saudi Arabia and Egypt as ‘in the pocket of the West’. By attacking other non-Sunnis, they bolster their Sunni credentials, and by attacking Sunnis who fail to profess what is according to them the ‘one true path’ of Islam they set themselves up as the arbiters of faith and heresy in Sunni Islam, delegitimising any contenders as not sufficiently Muslim.

That ISIS is currently the most recognisable face of an Islamist contender for hegemony does not mean that if it’s defeated all Islamist contenders are defeated. If that specific Islamic state is defeated, there are others ready to assume the mantle. The working assumption should be that Islamist contenders will be part of the battle for hegemony of the Middle East for decades to come.
egypt is a perennial claimant to leadership of the Arab world. It certainly views itself as the ‘mother of nations’ and, given its pre-Arab and pre-Muslim history, the nation that can claim the greatest degree of historical, cultural and national coherence in the region, over millennia. It’s also home to the largest number of Sunni Arabs and can therefore make the simple numerical claim to leadership of the Sunni Arab world. Its location between North Africa and the Levant also gives it a geographical advantage.

Under Nasser’s pan-Arabism, Egypt appeared close to realising the vision of Arab unity under a secular nationalist ideology. Its crushing defeat by Israel in 1967 (even if partially redeemed by the war of 1973) and its subsequent turn to the West and a peace agreement with Israel have undermined that effort and left Egypt out of the leadership game for several decades, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t reclaim that position at some point and perhaps succeed more than it did under Nasser.

Currently, Egypt seems more intent on ensuring that no serious rival could emerge, rather than assuming the mantle itself. Even though Egypt is home to one of the most important centres of Islamic learning and interpretation, its Islamic star has been on the wane, the outcome of the staunch secularism of its military rulers, their battles against the Muslim Brotherhood and the success of Saudi Arabia in promoting the Saudi brand of Islamism.

Should Egypt come under a strong and stable Islamist rule, it would become a formidable contender for the Sunni Arab leadership. It might be particularly relevant if Egypt were to reclaim and propagate its relatively more moderate al-Azhar form of Islam and unite the Sunni Arab world under that banner, in opposition to the extremist interpretations in play. However, as long as Egypt lacks powerful Islamist credentials, it’s likely to focus on ensuring that, at the very least, no rival claimant to Sunni Arab leadership can emerge.
Egypt’s warming relations with Israel under President al-Sisi could be understood in this context. As long as Egypt doesn’t work directly to unite the Arab Sunni world, but merely to prevent the emergence of any rival capable of doing that, it will find in Israel a reliable ally who shares that goal and is committed to a disunited Arab Middle East.

Like Iran, Israel is a powerful state that’s the home of a minority denied and denigrated in the region—the Jews. Whereas Iran is the clear leader and defender of the Shia minority in the region—some of whom don’t live in Iran— Israel is the clear leader and defender of the tiny Jewish minority presence in the region. However, unlike Iran, which views itself as protecting Shia minorities throughout the region while also using them for its defence, ever since the Arab and Iranian expulsion of Jews from the region, Israel is the exclusive home of Jews in the region and their defender exclusively within its borders, as almost no Jews exist in the Middle East outside Israel.

Israel and its Jews are threatened, including with potential annihilation, by the spectre of a united Sunni power. In fact, a common view of Israel in the region is that it’s a deliberate wedge put in place by the West to prevent a united Sunni power from ever emerging. Israel’s position as home to and defender of the Jewish minority also means that it could be relied upon to never compete for hegemony of the Muslim and Arab world. This makes Israel, as long as it remains powerful, a potential ‘joker’ ally to be used by the various players in the grand battle to ensure that none of their rivals emerges as a hegemon.

While this grand struggle might appear to be contained to the region of the Middle East and North Africa, its development has profound implications for Russia, Africa, Asia and the West. The simple reason is that whenever Islam was united, whether under Arab or Ottoman rule, it attacked and conquered large parts of Europe, Africa and Asia. A united Sunni world is an expanding one. In Islamic history, as in the history of all civilisations, expansion and conquest follow in the wake of unification.

One look at the map of the global distribution of Sunni Islam and the russian geopolitical imperative becomes crystal clear: prevent the emergence of any serious contender for a united Sunni leadership. The danger of a powerful united Islam on its borders, uniting Central Asia, with its wealth of natural resources, is the definition of a Russian nightmare. Russia, like Iran and like Israel, wants a disunited Middle East.

There are those who are tempted to view Russia’s intervention in the Middle East, especially in Syria, as heralding a new Cold War. There’s no doubt that Putin takes a certain pleasure in exposing American weakness and hesitancy, but Russia’s position in the Middle East is that of a regional divider, not a global uniter. Russia, like Israel and like Iran, can’t unite the Sunni world under its banner. Even if it were to cast itself in the role of protector of the region’s Christians, it would be nearly unemployed, as Christians are fast disappearing from the region through war, exodus, ethnic cleansing and genocide.
Russia’s interests in the Middle East, then, aren’t ones of global hegemony, but of the defence of its interests in a neighbourhood that threatens its very core. Since Russia, as an Orthodox Christian nation, can make no credible claim for hegemony in the Muslim Middle East, it serves as a useful ally for those, such as Iran and Israel, that share its goal of a permanently disunited Middle East. It’s also a useful ally for potential contenders for hegemony, such as Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Egypt, which it can aid in preventing their rivals from rising above them.

Ironically, the one player in the Middle East that remains a mystery is the United States. Whereas all the other actors—including Russia—are of the region and therefore have specific and clear interests that relate to their very existence, defence and power, the interests of the US in the region remain unclear, probably also to itself.

The US can theoretically choose to leave behind the region and pivot to Asia—a choice unavailable to all the other actors, who are of the region and in the region. Other than a general desire to prevent terrorism from reaching US soil, it’s no longer clear whether the US has clear interests in the region that it’s committed to protect. With technological advances in energy, it’s no longer clear even whether the US has economic and energy interests in the region. And, if it doesn’t, is there anything else to keep it involved?

It’s not clear whether the US favours a united or a disunited Middle East and whether it has a position on the matter at all. Washington clearly wants a less bothersome Middle East, but it’s not clear what it’s willing to do to achieve that end. While President Trump speaks of standing by the US’s traditional allies in the Middle East, especially Israel and Saudi Arabia, the US continues to project a lack of clarity about its interests and commitments in the region. This has already led all the other players to operate under the assumption of substantially decreased US presence and commitment, until events prove otherwise.

The Battle Ground Theater

In the grand strategic game of the Middle East—defined here as the battle to lead or thwart Sunni, and especially Sunni Arab, unification and hegemony—the players are grouped into those capable of leading (Turkey, Egypt, Saudi, Islamist contenders) or thwarting (Iran, Israel, Russia). The board on which they are playing the game includes four major ongoing battlegrounds (Syria, Iraq, Libya, yemen) and five or six potential battlegrounds (Lebanon, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, the various gulf states, egypt, perhaps Turkey). Algeria, Tunisia and Morocco are likely to remain at the margins but will be profoundly affected by the outcomes of the other battles.

Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Turkey are notable for being both potential leaders of the Muslim Sunni world and potential battlegrounds in the struggle to dominate that world.

Syria and Iraq are the central theatre, where the main battle is taking place. All the relevant actors are present in one form or another: Iran, Russia, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states and various Islamist contenders, with Egypt and Israel at the margins. While Syria lacks valuable natural resources and centres of Islamic legitimacy, it’s a historical centre of Islamic rule, and its territory, together with the Sunni part of Iraq, forms the second population pole of the Sunni Arab world (with Egypt as the second pole).

The territories of Iraq are reminiscent of the German-speaking territories in Europe in the mid-19th century: a grand mass in the centre of a region in turmoil, up for grabs by those who can unite them. The similarity also extends, as happened several decades after German unification, to the possibility of a unification under an extremist ideology that’s then used as a basis for conquering and uniting the entire region under its banner.

The various actors in the region understand that, just as a united Nazi Germany was well placed to begin a campaign of conquest across Europe, threatening at its peak the Soviet Union, Britain, North Africa and the Middle East, whichever actor succeeds in uniting the Sunni Arab parts of Iraq and Syria would be well placed to further unite the Arab world. It could move from the territories of Iraq and Syria into Lebanon and Jordan and perhaps Palestine (the rest of the Levant alluded to in the Islamic State’s name), into the grand prize of Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states, with their wealth and advanced military equipment, and from there into North Africa, Turkey, the Caucasus, Europe and Russia.

Russia, Iran, Turkey, Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states understand that if the unification were to take place under the extremist ideology of the various Islamist contenders, be it the Islamic State or a new incarnation, it poses an immediate danger of annihilation to all who fall outside the purview of its version of Islam, which means Jews, Christians and Shias, as well as all Sunnis who would refuse to submit. The ferocity with which the war’s being fought is a consequence of the understanding shared by all actors that the battle for Syria isn’t merely about drawing borders and dividing territory, but an existential battle that could determine the future existence of various peoples of the region. America’s choice, a single attack aside, to stay away from Syria and to engage in very limited fighting against the Islamic State (just as it did for the European theatre throughout much of World War II) reflects its assessment that it’s still very far away from being threatened by the outcomes of that war.

The Syrian and Iraqi battles are threatening to turn neighbouring areas into new battlegrounds. The flows of refugees from Syria and Iraq into Jordan and Lebanon further threaten those already very fragile countries. It’s certainly the intention of the Islamist contenders that all of the Levant, which includes Lebanon, Jordan, Israel and Palestine, should come under their rule. Cognisant of the dangerous possibility of becoming battlegrounds, the leaderships and populations of Jordan and Lebanon are struggling to manoeuvre carefully, and have so far avoided the worst manifestations of the revolutionary fervour of the early Arab Spring. However, the fragility of both countries is apparent, and scenarios in which they become battlegrounds in the game should be seriously considered.

Beyond Jordan lies the grand prize of Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states, which the Islamist contenders seek to rule. The fall of Saudi Arabia into the hands of a non-state extremist Islamist group is a scenario that needs to be seriously considered, if for no other reason than that it’s the declared goal of all of those groups. Ironically, if such an organisation were to take over Saudi Arabia, it would be the place where the Islamists would have to make the least adjustments to law and society to bring them into line with the most extreme interpretation of Islamic law. Precisely because Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states possess the ultimate prizes for all those would seek Middle Eastern hegemony (Mecca, Medina, much of the world’s oil and large caches of advanced military equipment), the fall of the Saudi ruling family, or any other sign that Saudi Arabia is turning from contender to battleground, would be likely to spark even greater involvement in the battle, including by the US.

The battle for Yemen could be understood as being fought in the shadow of that possibility. Yemen is a nearly failed country that’s the geographical, social and political Achilles’ heel of the Arabian Peninsula. Any struggle for hegemony is likely to involve it as a southern gateway to Saudi Arabia. It’s no accident that the last wave of efforts at Arab unification under Nasser involved another murderous war in Yemen. Whereas Islamist contenders are using it to get to Saudi Arabia from the south, the Saudis are fighting bitterly in Yemen to protect their flank. Iran is also involved in the war, with the twin goals of protecting Yemen’s Shia minority and thwarting Saudi Arabia’s and other Islamist contenders’ attempts to unify the Arabian Peninsula.

In North Africa, for the moment, Libya is the only active battleground. Since the various battles taking place in its territory are between competing tribes, the war remains relatively contained, and the various actors in this latest grand game for hegemony have chosen not to intervene in any substantial way. Libya is mostly a battleground for various forms of Islamism, and all actors in the region are keeping a wary eye on it to see whether anything develops that threatens the region more broadly. For now, Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria are successfully working to contain the Libyan battle, but should they fail they face a danger of becoming, at the minimum, ideological battlegrounds for Islamism.

Egypt was briefly a battleground for Islamism. The battle is now suspended, but the millions of Egyptians who voted for the Muslim Brotherhood in 2012 haven’t disappeared simply because a military coup reversed the election results. How long the military could fend off the rise of an Islamist Egypt remains in question, and the polity is still fragile. Egypt’s geography, population and cultural cohesion mean that it’s unlikely to be broken apart like Syria or Iraq, but the domestic battle for an Islamist Egypt is likely to erupt again in the future. It might not involve any clear outside intervention, as in the case of Iraq, but the actors in the region will have a major stake in whether Egypt turns Islamist and, if it does, under what brand of Islamism.

The Tools of the Game

With the game, players and battlegrounds defined, the ability of the players to achieve their aims depends on the tools at their disposal and whether they make effective use of them. In terms of the traditional tools of power— territory, people, military and economic resources—the various actors differ, and none emerges as the absolute clear hegemon. There’s no natural hegemon to the Sunni world, or to the Sunni Arab world, as exists in other regions of the world. There’s no single country that can make a credible claim to uniting the Sunni Arab world that also enjoys a preponderance of power in all its various forms. This means that not only is the struggle for hegemony likely to be drawn out over decades, if not longer, but also that the ability of the various actors to be effective and have an edge depends on their sophisticated use of other forms of power, such as so-called ‘soft’ power.

In the Middle East, soft power is found in the form of appeals of loyalty to religion, sect, ethnicity, tribe and nation as well as the ability to forge ever-shifting alliances in the service of specific goals. To put these various forms of power to effective use, the region’s leaders, rulers and political actors require a level of sophistication that was once associated with the great Metternich.
One of the reasons that the Middle East seems to confound so many outside, and especially Western, observers is that various forms of deadly loyalties to a collective—whether it’s a tribe, a religious sect or a nation—seem to exert power that many in the West consider to be long gone, or at least that should be long gone. In that sense, the ‘soft’ power isn’t soft at all. In the intellectual centres of the West, the prevailing 21st century ideology is universalist and refuses to acknowledge fealty to anything less general than the human race (for some, even that’s too parochial, and one must care about all living things equally). The idea that humans would fight, kill and be killed for a subsection of humanity to which they are loyal above others—whether it’s called a tribe, a sect or a nation—is considered abhorrent to the universalist mindset, which is prevalent among many policymakers in the West.

Yet, not so long ago, in the West’s own core, Yugoslavia blew up in a murderous civil war when the pressure-cooker lid of Tito’s autocratic rule was lifted. Neighbours and family members slaughtered each other in the name of loyalties supposedly long forgotten. Modern Europeans who thought they had put their own ethnic and national butchery behind them watched in horror how century-old loyalties and rivalries proved far more powerful than the modern Yugoslavian identity. Yugoslavia was just the tail end of several centuries in which the European continent was engulfed in ongoing murderous battles between competing loyalties to kings and princes, nations and empires. The modern and peaceful structure of Europe could only emerge once the bloody battle between all the competing loyalties was spent.

While Europe might yet find that it hasn’t put its past completely behind it, in much of the world, especially in times of chaos, family, tribe, sect, nation and religion remain remarkably powerful as a source of order, meaning and solidarity. They are able to lay claim to the allegiance of the individual and inspire acts of terror and sacrifice that no other forms of power could. Therefore, those who can command people’s loyalties and willingness to fight and sacrifice through an appeal to their sense of protecting ‘us against them’ are likely to command greater power than is apparent by a simple accounting of people, economies and armies.

In fact, these forms of allegiance and loyalty are so powerful that they also transcend any accounting of territory and borders. Especially with zero-cost international communications, social media and low-cost flights, people can express a sense of belonging to a tribe, sect, nation and religion across the globe. They can be inspired to take extreme actions and even sacrifice their lives on behalf of those loyalties while living halfway across the world from their territorial centre.

The religion of Islam remains the most powerful force in the grand game for the Middle East. The battle for hegemony is waged first and foremost in the world of Islam. Islam recognises no central authority and, as a religion of written and oral law, it’s in the hands of its interpreters. Those who can compel the greatest number of followers to their interpretation of Islam wield a powerful weapon in the battle for hegemony.

The ability to make an appeal to the broad mass of Sunnis across the Middle East and beyond is a critical factor in determining the outcome of the battle for hegemony. This battle is fought in all manners, from religious
pronouncements, to theological conferences, to social media and terrorism and, of course, to the funding of certain groups. The kind of Islam that ultimately triumphs is of interest not just to the region but to the Islamic world more broadly and the rest of the world where Muslim minorities live. There’s no determinism in this battle. The triumph of Wahhabism across the Middle East is by no means guaranteed for the long term; it’s also as likely to create backlash. The vast majority of Muslims don’t belong to that school of thought and don’t subscribe to the idea that violent beliefs and actions are the way of Islam. This creates room for countries such as Egypt, Jordan, Tunisia and Morocco to appeal at one point to those seeking to free themselves from the temptations of fundamentalism.

While Islam encompasses the entire region, among the region’s people, predating Islam and still remarkable powerful, especially in certain areas, is the appeal to the tribe. Tribal loyalty and belonging is the oldest recorded form of political, social and judicial organisation. The Middle East and Africa remain the places in the world where that identity is most powerful and present in many people’s lives. The battle for hegemony in the region depends on the ability to appeal to tribal loyalties and to create coalitions and alliances that bring together previously warring tribes. As more territories become contested battlegrounds, loyalty to the tribe is likely to become an ever more powerful currency in the battle.

During the century from the fall of the Ottoman Empire to the Arab Spring, when ‘old’ religious, sectarian, ethnic and tribal loyalties were being laid low in a Middle East carved up by the victorious powers, new loyalties to new nations were being forged. Those loyalties, despite their ‘newness’, can’t be written off easily. By now, they have been in play for nearly a century. People across the Middle East have grown up as Syrians, Iraqis, Jordanians or Saudis. That has power. The new loyalties also have the power of interests: powerful economic and military interests are tied to keeping them alive. The disintegration of Syria is also proving that keeping the new loyalties from succumbing to the old ones is the one thing that stands between a nation’s people and complete chaos. An appeal to the unity of the nation against the danger of chaos might be the only thing keeping countries such as Lebanon and Jordan from turning into the bloody battleground that is Syria.

Between the new and old loyalties lie the minorities of the Middle East, who themselves become a tool in the battle for hegemony. The ability to appeal to the religious, sectarian, ethnic and tribal loyalties of the minorities to undermine whatever national loyalty they might have is another not-so-soft tool of power that the various players have at their disposal. The minorities in play include the Kurds in Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria (Figure 2); outside Iran, the Shias in Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Syria, Lebanon and the Gulf states; in Egypt, the Coptic Christians.

Beyond the region, Muslim minorities in Russia and across the world are a critical element in the game for regional hegemony. Iran defends itself and creates deterrence by casting its protection over the Shia minorities of the region. The Kurds use their ethnic loyalty and are being used to undermine the countries where they have a significant presence. And the Islamic State uses Muslim minorities around the world to undermine the West and increase its credibility as a claimant to the leadership of the Sunni Arab world.

The multiplicity of actors and loyalties in the grand game of the Middle East means that the ability to forge alliances within and across these loyalties remains the most important skill required of the leaders in the region. In the absence of a clear and natural hegemon, the ability of any claimant to rise to hegemony will depend on the strength and quality of their alliances, and the same holds true for those seeking to thwart the rise of any hegemon. Yet, these alliances are likely to be written in the sand. Any effort to define an ‘axis’ is likely to fall prey to the players’ ever-shifting interests. Whatever axes of alliances appear at any given moment, they are temporary arrangements until a more stable regional order emerges. There’s little use trying to analyse them as permanent structures.

Exacerbating Factors

Whereas the basic conditions of the battle for hegemony seem already to presage a long and drawn-out battle, outside factors worsen even that grim outlook. First and foremost among those factors is the youth bulge being experienced across the Muslim world. A youth bulge occurs when advances in medicine lead to a marked drop in infant mortality but social norms still favour high birthrates. When societies experience rapid economic growth, youth bulges can contribute to economic prosperity as the young people enter an expanding work force. However, if the economy fails to create new and productive jobs to meet the growth in population, the masses of young people, and especially young men, tend to gravitate to social unrest, revolution and war. Youth bulges are now considered to have been major factors contributing to the intensity of the French Revolution, World War I, World War II and social unrest in Latin America in the 1970s and 1980s.

There’s no question that the Muslim and Arab worlds are experiencing a youth bulge. According to a 2015 Pew Research Center study, the number of Muslims worldwide is expected to grow by 73% from 2010 to 2050, and Muslims are expected to outnumber Christians by 2070.

There’s also no question that economic prospects are grim across the Sunni Arab world. Economies are mismanaged or, rather, managed for the benefit of the few, are over-dependent on oil, or are devastated by war. The conditions for economic growth, whether they are quality education, innovation or open societies, are largely absent. Barring a miracle, the youth bulge will spell only disaster for the Arab and Muslim world. The various contenders for hegemony should be able to draw on a nearly limitless pool of disaffected young men to engage in protracted butchery.

The one natural resource that was able to shield the Sunni Arab world from responsible governance has lost its status as a cure-all-ills commodity. For decades, as rentier states, many countries in the Arab world, especially those in the Gulf, relied on massive oil and gas exports to bankroll a functioning state and economy. oil and gas account for more than 50% of GDP among the Arab states that are members of the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries. Oil revenues were essentially used to run a centralised welfare state and buy political stability.

With energy sales inflating economic growth over the past two decades, oil-rich governments avoided economic liberalisation and diversification. Rather than creating other drivers of economic growth and shielding themselves from the possibility of oil losing its financial and strategic value, the Gulf states preferred to control the price of oil by setting production limits, ensuring that their resources lasted several generations, while investing in sovereign wealth funds and foreign asset reserves to build up financial reserves. The assumption in their strategy was that oil would remain a strategic commodity and they would continue to hold the reins of its price and production. But the rug is starting to be removed from under their feet.

A number of factors have contributed to economic trouble among the oil-exporting Arab states. As their populations expanded at the highest growth rate in the world over the past decade, which required enlarged government budgets to expand their welfare states and make up for rampant unemployment, their oil revenues dropped significantly. Starting in mid-2014, even amid conflict in the Middle East (which usually causes a spike in oil prices), the price of oil began to fall dramatically as a result of economic turmoil in Europe and Asia, energy efficiency, and increased US oil production. The drop in prices has caused the Gulf states to dip into their financial reserves to make up for their increased budgets and decreased revenues.

The political turmoil that has unfolded in the region, especially the Islamic State taking control (and subsequently losing) large oil fields in Iraq and Syria, which it used to finance its operations, combined with the lower price of oil, has contributed to a significant decrease in foreign direct investment flowing into Arab states, further slowing economic growth. If these trends continue and the oil-exporting Arab states spend their wealth funds and foreign currency reserves making up for budget deficits, eventually their funds will run out and the economic situation could become catastrophic.

The Middle East and North Africa are also plagued by an environmental crisis that could prove to be more disastrous than armed conflict. The region’s extremely dry climate, growing population, pollution, poorly managed water resources and susceptibility to the effects of climate change will cause severe water scarcity and pose an existential threat. Some even argue that the devastating drought in Syria from 2006 to 2011 contributed to social unrest that evolved into civil war.

According to the World Bank, in 1962 the Arab world had 1,335 cubic metres of fresh water per capita; as of 2014, that volume had dwindled to around 295 cubic metres (the world average in 2014 was 5,925 cubic metres).8 Global warming is causing temperatures to rise, which corresponds to a decline in rainfall and thus further reduces the availability of fresh water and causes desertification. The UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimates that 60% of Syria faces desertification; Iraq faces desertification at a rate of 0.5% per year; in Jordan, it’s estimated that as much as 30% of the country’s surface water resources has been lost due to drought and desertification.9 The flow in the Euphrates is expected to decline by 50% by 2025, which would lead to an estimated shortage of 33 billion cubic metres of water per year.
The environmental conditions alone make it a difficult challenge for the most developed nations to provide sustainable water resources, yet the region will need to find solutions to supply water to a thirsty population amidst regional chaos and conflict. But

water scarcity only adds to the regional turmoil (when it isn’t the cause of the turmoil), as most of the water resources are transboundary: the Jordan River is a water source for Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian Territories; the Yarmouk River is shared by Syria and Jordan; the Disi aquifer runs along the border of Jordan and Saudi Arabia; the Euphrates River flows through Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Iran.

Summary

In the years following 9/11, the UN published a series of Arab development reports. The 2009 report, focused on human security, concluded that human insecurity was pervasive in the Arab world and noted that external threats such as pollution, terrorism, migration, pandemics and drug and human trafficking have challenged state security, while growing poverty, civil wars, ethnic and sectarian conflicts and authoritarian regimes were limiting the rights and freedoms of Arab citizens.11 Since the report was published, the situation has become much worse. The Arab Spring turned to winter, hundreds of thousands of people have been killed and millions more have become refugees or internally displaced, while none of the underlying problems of the Arab world, from gender inequality to stunted development, is showing any signs of improvement.

The world has an enormous stake in the outcome of the battle for hegemony in the Sunni world in general and the Arab world, in particular. That outcome might determine whether citizens around the world will be safe from attacks on their soil. It might determine whether a new power emerges to threaten Europe, Russia, Africa, Asia and beyond and what kind of Islam will shape the lives of a third of the world’s population. Unfortunately, there’s little the non-Muslim world could do to shape the result. At most, outside powers might be able to mitigate the worst possible outcomes of the protracted battle for hegemony in the Middle East—and even that’s questionable.

Outside observers of the Middle East should realise that, for the first time in a century, what’s happening across the Sunni Arab world is authentic, but that ‘authentic’ doesn’t necessarily mean positive. It only means that what’s happening is an authentic expression of the various pressures and powers of the Sunni Arabs themselves.

Ultimately, the Sunnis in general and the Sunni Arabs in particular will have to work out their regional order for themselves. This is a process that will take time—decades, perhaps a century—and can’t be condensed or accelerated. No outside power can do it for them. Either a clear hegemon will emerge or the various sides will spend themselves in battles to the point of exhaustion, leading perhaps to a balanced compromise.

Whatever regional order emerges, it will have to be described in terms that come from Islamic, Sunni and Arab history. Islam is a political religion that has clear conceptions of the proper world order and the way public and private matters should be ruled and arranged. Whatever regional order emerges, whoever the hegemon, it will be rooted in Islam as the cultural language of the region. The idea of the caliphate isn’t going away. It’s merely the historical Islamic form of Arab and Muslim unity—a fundamental political organising principle. Even if the current organisation that goes by the name of the Islamic State is defeated, the idea of an Islamic state will continue to hold sway as the organising principle of the Sunni Arab world and the Muslim world more broadly.

One can compare the idea of the caliphate and the Islamic state to the idea of a unified European continent. That idea has an old lineage, and it served not only Napoleon and Hitler but also Jean Monnet, a founder of the European Union. An Islamic state, a caliphate and a united Sunni Arab world need not in themselves threaten the world at large, but under a certain interpretation of Islam they pose a threat.

Recommendations

In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, many a Western nation has sought to ‘fix’ the Middle East with soft, hard and hybrid strategies. Those approaches have been underpinned by an over-simplistic construct in which the various layers of complexity in the region can somehow be harmonised. In the aftermath of these strategies, the international community finds that the region’s multi-layer conflicts are being played out further afield, fed by factors such as forced migration.

In time, it’s highly likely that the deep religious and cultural differences in the Middle East will play an increasing role in shaping other countries’ domestic security and international relations strategies. There’s neither time nor need to respond to this challenge with grand visions and pronouncements or expressions of post-colonial guilt. Before outside nations attempt to monitor and shape the events in the Middle East, they should clearly articulate their interests in the region.

Conclusion

Ultimately, Western countries have to come to terms with their limited role in shaping the outcomes of the battle for hegemony in the Arab Middle East. This doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to be done, but those outside the region must clinically and dispassionately consider their interests in the region and what they can reasonably expect to achieve.

To avoid importing or expanding the Middle East’s conflicts, those outside the region need to develop a greater understanding of its various layers of complexity. And, in doing so, they need to avoid the temptation to seek an over-simplistic ‘fix’. In the realms of domestic, border and international security, what’s to be done is arguably much more about Islam in the West than about the Middle East.

Notes and Readings

Scott Shane, ‘Saudis and extremism: “both the arsonists and the firefighters”’, New York Times, 25 August 2016, online.

James M Dorsey, ‘Saudi export of Wahhabism’, Mashreq Politics & Culture Journal, 15 March 2016, online.

Marian Wilkinson, ‘Revealed: the Saudis’ paymaster in Australia’, Sydney Morning Herald, 10 September 2005, online.

Luat Al-Khatteeb, ‘Gulf oil economies must wake up or face decades of decline’, The Brookings Institution, 14 August 2015, online.

Colin P Kelley, Shahrzad Mohtadi, Mark A Cane, Richard Seager, Yochanan Kushnir, ‘Climate change in the Fertile Crescent and implications of the recent Syrian drought’, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 2015, 112(11).

The World Bank, ‘Renewable internal freshwater resources per capita (cubic meters)’, World Development Indicators, 2017, 22 January 2017, online.

Sundeep Waslekar, The blue peace: rethinking Middle East water, Strategic Foresight Group, 2011, online. 10 Waslekar, The blue peace: rethinking Middle East water.

United Nations Development Programme, Arab human development report 2009: challenges to human security in the Arab countries, 2009, online.

Indeed, Farah Pandith, the first US special representative to Muslim countries, who served the Obama administration between 2009 and 2014, argued for disrupting ‘the training of extremist imams and creat[ing] imam training centres in Africa, Asia, Europe and North America that are free of Saudi funding and that offer a diversity of Islamic practices … If the Saudis do not cease what they are doing, there must be diplomatic, cultural and economic consequences.’ Farah Pandith, ‘The world needs a long-term strategy for defeating extremism’, New York Times, 8 December 2015, online.

Other sources consulted

Borshchevskaya, Anna 2016. ‘Vladimir Putin and the Shiite axis’, The Washington Institute, 30 August. Central Intelligence Agency 2016. The World Factbook, 2016, online.

Charai, Ahmed 2016. ‘Is political Islam compatible with democracy?’, The National Interest, 16 September.

Chotiner, Isaac 2016. ‘An interview with Shadi Hamid: can Islam and liberalism coexist?’, Slate, 16 August.

Davis, Daniel L 2016. ‘Why US policy in the Middle East will continue to fail’, The National Interest, 6 September.

de Waal, Thomas 2016. ‘Russia, Turkey, and a multipolar world’, Carnegie Europe, 30 August.

Diwan, Ishac 2016. ‘How to help the Middle East’, Project Syndicate, 8 September.

Emont, Jon 2016. ‘A new crisis in the Muslim world: is it too young?’, Washington Post, 5 September.

Fishman, Ben 2016. ‘The twin battle in Libya: against the Islamic State and for unity’, The Washington Institute, 23 August.

Fisk, Robert 2016. ‘The Shias are winning in the Middle East—and it’s all thanks to Russia’, The Independent, 18 August.

Hannah, John 2016. ‘Saudi Arabia strikes back’, Foreign Policy, 16 August.

Hashem, Ali 2016. ‘Are Saudis open to rapprochement with Iran?’, Al Monitor, 12 September.

Henderson, Simon 2016. ‘Jordan’s strategic decision to buy Israeli gas’, The Washington Institute, 26 September.

Javad Zarif, Mohammad 2016. ‘Let us rid the world of Wahhabism’, New York Times, 13 September.

Lodge, Fritz 2016. ‘Water Security in the Middle East’, The Cipher Brief, 19 August.

Mamouri, Ali 2016. ‘Anti-Wahhabism spreading in Muslim world’, Al Monitor, 11 September.

Mamouri, Ali 2016. ‘Shiite alliance against Saudis grows tighter’, Al Monitor, 6 September.

Mead, Walter Russell 2016. ‘Russia re-emerges as a great power in the Middle East’, The American Interest, 12 September.

Milani, Mohsen 2016. ‘Iran and Russia’s uncomfortable alliance’, Foreign Affairs, 31 August.

Nasr, Vali R 2016. ‘A Russian–Iranian axis’, New York Times, 16 September.

Oakfor, Samuel and Salisbury, Peter 2016. ‘Yemen: the graveyard of the Obama doctrine’, The Atlantic, 26 September.

Pillalamarri, Akhilesh 2016. ‘Exactly 500 years ago, this battle changed the Middle East forever’, The National Interest, 23 August.

Reisinezhad, Arash 2016. ‘Saudi Arabia wants to roll back Iran’, The National Interest, 4 September.

Ross, Dennis 2016. ‘In Saudi Arabia, a revolution disguised as reform’, Washington Post, 8 September.

Ross, Dennis 2016. ‘Iran cannot be a partner in the struggle against ISIS’, The Washington Institute, 11 September.

Saied, Mohamed 2016. ‘Is Egypt–Saudi love affair on the rocks?’, Al Monitor, 13 September.

How many is too many? Do we still need to think about overpopulation?

Our politicians do not like to speak about overpopulation out of fear for the pious who believe that human beings ought to multiply. Left-wing ideologues argue that there is no such thing and that every apparent problem can be solved through a more equal distribution of resources. Enlightened progressivists are confident that there will be a technological fix. Economists tell us that we need continuous growth and hence more consumers. And the statisticians are confident that the growth of the human population will eventually slow down. We are, in reality, already bursting at the seams; numerous ecological problems are due to the fact that there are already so many of us. We need to think harder about the problem, something we find hard to do. We need to consider what the size of the human population should ideally be? And if we are already overloaded, we must also ask how we can reduce the size of the population in a humane way. We need to ask what obligations we have to coming generations.

Here is a new Swedish website from the University of Gothenburg that seeks to address itself to these issues.
Click here

The state of emergency is the new normal

There are no military patrols in the streets. There is no state of heightened tension; there are no sudden razzias, no police barricades. Presumably, this is not so in other parts of Turkey, as, presumably, in the Kurdish regions. But the regime is maintaining an air of normality in large parts of the country and this is, no doubt, a deliberate policy. The ongoing state of emergency will be more acceptable to the population at large as long as it goes hand in hand with a sense of normality.

Turkey is not the only country maintaining a semi-permanent state of emergency. Such an arrangement is a convenient device for governments to rule in a less democratic fashion, by-passing parliaments and the opposition, enacting laws without having to listen to objectors, being ready to intervene brutally whenever it is considered appropriate. We can think of these semi-permanent states of emergency as signs of a broader, global retreat from democracy. In the US, which prides itself on its democratic freedoms, that retreat is signaled by the accumulation of power we have witnessed in the hands of the president. The American Congress has, in fact, abdicated many of its constitutional powers and has left it to presidents to negotiate and abdicate international agreements, to impose and withdraw sanctions, to start and stop military interventions. Erdogan’s state of emergency and American presidential “democracy” are, in fact, of the same ilk.

Though conditions appeared more or less normal in Turkey, there were, however, signs to indicate the special character of this normality. The day I arrived in Ankara was a public holiday: “International Children’s Day,” established by Ataturk in 1920. There were Turkish flags on display wherever you looked, some covering entire buildings. Gigantic electronic screens displayed everywhere the same fluttering Turkish flag. Some of the flags were accompanied by pictures of Ataturk, others by images of president Erdogan. Television channels were full of children in uniform or traditional costume happily singing patriotic songs. Erdogan himself could be seen surrounded by small children paying fulsome tribute to him. He was, in fact, everywhere on the channels. Now surrounded by children, now by journalists, now by politicians, shaking hands, walking here, walking there, addressing rallies, talking calmly, talking dramatically. Like Trump and his associates, the current Turkish regime knows of the power of the media, the importance of the ever-present image of the ruling power.

I had hesitated for months before accepting the invitation to a conference on “political realism” at Bilkent University in Ankara. Some colleagues had warned me not to go under any circumstances; others advised me that there would surely be no danger. Some thought it was inopportune to travel to Turkey at this moment because it might be seen as supporting the current regime; and still others considered it especially important to go in order to give moral support to our Turkish colleagues. Once at Bilkent, I found out that a number of invited speakers from abroad had in fact canceled their visit. Even so, the conference was a success though everyone avoided public talk about the immediate political realities. In private conversation, our resident colleagues were ready enough to speak out in strong words. But there was clearly anxiety in the air. Some visitors from Boğaziçi University in Istanbul spoke of raids on Campus and arrests of students and faculty. They reported that professors had been warned not to engage in political activism; otherwise they might be laid off and deprived of their pensions – a serious threat for the older faculty. Shortly before traveling to Turkey one of my academic friends had, in fact, passed me a message from one of his colleagues at Boğaziçi. It said:

political situation awful here and getting worse everyday. now erdogan
specifically attacking bogaziçi university. the special anti terror
squad raided the dorms and arresting students, and awfully mistreating
them, beating walking on them booting on throat which they learned
from the americans. ı am involved.
you kick up support if ı get jailed

Meanwhile, the trains were running on time.

Update: July 17, 2018

The state of emergency in Turkey has just been lifted. But actions undertaken while it lasted are still in effect. Thousands of military, government workers, and academics have been laid off. Many remain imprisoned, including numerous journalists. Meanwhile, president Erdogan has acquired enormous new powers; he can now rule largely by decree. And a new “Anti-Terrorist” law is in the works, expected to be more stringent and permanent than the now expired state of emergency.  A state of repression is the new normal.

The caves of Cappadocia

Cappadocia in the southern corner of Turkey is a region of unearthly beauty, far removed, so it seems, from the currents of modern life. But it has a turbulent past and perhaps even a message for our own day. Syria and the Kurdish areas of the Middle East are close by. Cappadocia was once a crossroads for conquerors, Hittites, Persians, and Romans, Seljuks and Turks. Early Christianity took roots here but eventually was forced to hide away in the caves that pockmark the region.

Coming from Ankara, one travels for hours on a plateau of rolling hills that shimmered in all kinds of colors from the freshest green to a deep golden brown. Remarkably, there were almost no trees to be seen apart from those newly planted along the roadside. As for animals, we saw a few herds of sheep, one or two cows, and almost no birds in the sky. Humans seemed just as scarce: no towns and only some distant villages. Far away, snow-covered mountains peaked through the morning haze. The sense of peace was certainly overwhelming after London with its restless millions and after the endless high-rises and crowded freeways of Turkey’s polluted capital.

Then, suddenly we reached the edge of a sandstone ravine and faced a mysterious landscape of rocks looking like giant witches’ hats punctured with the dark shadows of cave entrances, valleys filled with columns of stone sculpted into fantastic shapes by wind and weather. Human beings have lived here for thousands of years. There used to be entire cave cities, some of them lived in till the 1960’s.

Some of the caves turn out to be dwellings that reach four or five stories up and or four or five stories down into the ground. It is easy to see why our forebears dug them out. They provided shelter from rain and storm and the summer heat. They were solid and their hard floors could be easily cleaned. They provided protection also against wild animals but, more important still, also against hostile humans. Why live in a rackety makeshift house somewhere openly on the plain, when you can hide from marauders deep in these caverns?

The caves were, in other words, the nuclear shelters of antiquity. They tell a story of how dark and dangerous life can become, of warfare and cruelty, and how much it takes in the struggle for human survival.

 

 

 

London in April: the quandaries of modern individualism

There were two hundred or so of us all united for a moment by our common desire to get to London as quickly and comfortably as possible. But as soon as we landed at Heathrow, we each went our own way, modern individuals propelled by diverging interests and purposes. From where comes this individualism that motivates and propels us? Have we achieved a richer and more unique form of human life than our forebears? Have we got to a higher understanding of what it is to be human? Or are we, with the whole baggage of our modern individualism, only the unwitting products of new circumstances, ready-made and type-cast by a newly individuating reality?

Material conditions may not strictly necessitate the ways we think and act. But the outer, material conditions of life make certain kinds of thinking and acting easy and plausible. We slip into them and find them natural and true. And the natural truth that our material conditions engender in us is that of modern individualism: we have come to believe in ourselves as free, independent, autonomous, self-governing beings. We see ourselves as freely choosing between different goods, with our own individual values, as free members of a free society.

But the realities of modern individualism came home to us as soon as we stepped out of the airplane and found ourselves in a labyrinth of walkways and escalators, guided by blinking signs and cooing announcements, made to walk here but not there, following hundreds of bewildered others to the exit, to passport control, to baggage recovery, to a connecting flight or to ground transportation. The entire gigantic structure spoke of options and choices but it also controlled our every move. It divided us into cohorts, streamed, directed, and regulated, allowed and prohibited, searched and cleared. And we would have it no other way for without this elaborate mechanism we would have been lost, helpless, and utterly insecure.

London itself was bathed in a warm Spring sun when we finally reached it through another labyrinth of barriers and rules, pressed together in a train taking us to its determined stops. The inner city was bustling with tourists, consulting their maps, led about by guides, gawking at all the well-known sights, out shopping in the established emporia, or just lounging with many others in the afternoon sun. Their pursuits and pleasures all had their own possibilities and constraints. Could we have entered the city as an army of pilgrims or as conquerors on horseback or as wandering minstrels or as shepherds, or shamans? Perhaps, we could have imagined ourselves in these terms but, I assume, none of us travelers from San Francisco was likely to have been attracted to these options. And even if anyone of us had been, it would have been merely a private fantasy and nothing in the reality of the modern airport and the modern city would have matched it.

We like to think of ourselves as freer than our ancestors. But what truth is there in this? Yes, we have new and never previously imagined freedoms, but we also face multiple new constraints that go hand in hand with those freedoms. Our freedom is the freedom of the labyrinth; and that labyrinth is our prison.

Reading Wittgenstein

Ludwig Wittgenstein was one of the leading philosophical minds of the twentieth century and his thought remains of live interest. But he is not easy to read. Not  that he writes long, complex sentences with obscure philosophical terminology. On the contrary. His prose is simple, straightforward, and exemplary. But his texts are so condensed that it often becomes difficult to follow the course of his thinking.

Twenty years ago, David Stern and I published the Cambridge Companion to Wittgenstein which was intended to help readers along. The volume became eventually one of the bestsellers in Cambridge University’s companions to philosophers series. We have now brought out a second edition of this work, Some of the contributions to the first edition have stood the time and are reprinted in this new one. But we have also added some great new pieces and included a completely updated bibliography. The volume contains, among others things, now a lucid essay by Kevin Cahill on Wittgenstein’s reflections on ethics and a brilliant piece on Wittgenstein’s concept of seeing an aspect by Juliet Floyd. David Stern has contributed a new essay on Wittgenstein’s changing thoughts in the 1930’s and Joachim Schulte has tackled the topic of “body and soul.”

Apart from a new introductory essay, I have written a piece on time and history in Wittgenstein for this second edition. Wittgenstein’s thoughts on these topics have not yet been fully explored. My goal in this essay is to find a new way of looking at Wittgenstein’s writings. Another aspect of that same project is a lecture on Wittgenstein’s conception of the world in the Tractatus. The power point file for this lecture is available on this website. Click here

How inequality is increasing

Here is an easily understood series of graphics on the state of the American economy. Put together by the Wall Street Journal, it shows that the wealth distribution in America has changed dramatically from 2004 to 2016. The top 1% now own 5% more of wealth and the bottom 90% now own 6% less. Look at the rest of the graphics and you get some idea of why this has happened.

https://graphics.wsj.com/how-the-world-has-changed-since-2008-financial-crisis/

The Nation State is Dead – despite what its advocates say

Globalization is out and nation states are in, if you believe the agitators. The reality is, however, quite different. The nation state was never a happy construct and technological change has undermined it once and for all. But what comes next? Justified anxieties about where we are going and what globalization will bring us have cast the idea of the nation state in a new, unexpectedly rosy light. It’s, however, a false and deceptive light.

Rana Dasgupta has written a terrific article for The Guardian explaining the demise of the nation state, why it is unlikely to come back, and what to do about it. Don’t miss it.

The demise of the nation state

After decades of globalisation, our political system has become obsolete – and spasms of esurgent nationalism are a sign of its irreversible decline. By Rana Dasgupta

The Guardian, Thu 5 Apr 2018 01.00 EDT Last modified on Thu 5 Apr 2018 13.08 EDT

What is happening to national politics? Every day in the US, events further exceed the imaginations of absurdist novelists and comedians; politics in the UK still shows few signs of recovery after the “national nervous breakdown” of Brexit. France “narrowly escaped a heart attack” in last year’s elections, but the country’s leading daily feels this has done little to alter the “accelerated decomposition” of the political system. In neighbouring Spain, El País goes so far as to say that “the rule of law, the democratic system and even the market economy are in doubt”; in Italy, “the collapse of the establishment” in the March elections has even brought talk of a “barbarian arrival”, as if Rome were falling once again. In Germany, meanwhile, neo-fascists are preparing to take up their role as official opposition, introducing anxious volatility into the bastion of European stability.

But the convulsions in national politics are not confined to the west. Exhaustion, hopelessness, the dwindling effectiveness of old ways: these are the themes of politics all across the world. This is why energetic authoritarian “solutions” are currently so popular: distraction by war (Russia, Turkey); ethno-religious “purification” (India, Hungary, Myanmar); the magnification of presidential powers and the corresponding abandonment of civil rights and the rule of law (China, Rwanda, Venezuela, Thailand, the Philippines and many more).
What is the relationship between these various upheavals? We tend to regard them as entirely separate – for, in political life, national solipsism is the rule. In each country, the tendency is to blame “our” history, “our” populists, “our” media, “our” institutions, “our” lousy politicians. And this is understandable, since the organs of modern political consciousness – public education and mass media – emerged in the 19th century from a globe-conquering ideology of unique national destinies. When we discuss “politics”, we refer to what goes on inside sovereign states; everything else is “foreign affairs” or “international relations” – even in this era of global financial and technological integration. We may buy the same products in every country of the world, we may all use Google and Facebook, but political life, curiously, is made of separate stuff and keeps the antique faith of borders.

Yes, there is awareness that similar varieties of populism are erupting in many countries. Several have noted the parallels in style and substance between leaders such as Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, Narendra Modi, Viktor Orbán and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. There is a sense that something is in the air – some coincidence of feeling between places. But this does not get close enough. For there is no coincidence. All countries are today embedded in the same system, which subjects them all to the same pressures: and it is these that are squeezing and warping national political life everywhere. And their effect is quite the opposite – despite the desperate flag-waving – of the oft-remarked “resurgence of the nation state”.

The most momentous development of our era, precisely, is the waning of the nation state: its inability to withstand countervailing 21st-century forces, and its calamitous loss of influence over human circumstance. National political authority is in decline, and, since we do not know any other sort, it feels like the end of the world. This is why a strange brand of apocalyptic nationalism is so widely in vogue. But the current appeal of machismo as political style, the wall-building and xenophobia, the mythology and race theory, the fantastical promises of national restoration – these are not cures, but symptoms of what is slowly revealing itself to all: nation states everywhere are in an advanced state of political and moral decay from which they cannot individually extricate themselves.

Why is this happening? In brief, 20th-century political structures are drowning in a 21st-century ocean of deregulated finance, autonomous technology, religious militancy and great-power rivalry. Meanwhile, the suppressed consequences of 20th-century recklessness in the once-colonised world are erupting, cracking nations into fragments and forcing populations into post-national solidarities: roving tribal militias, ethnic and religious sub-states and super-states. Finally, the old superpowers’ demolition of old ideas of international society – ideas of the “society of nations” that were essential to the way the new world order was envisioned after 1918 – has turned the nation-state system into a lawless gangland; and this is now producing a nihilistic backlash from the ones who have been most terrorised and despoiled.

The result? For increasing numbers of people, our nations and the system of which they are a part now appear unable to offer a plausible, viable future. This is particularly the case as they watch financial elites – and their wealth – increasingly escaping national allegiances altogether. Today’s failure of national political authority, after all, derives in large part from the loss of control over money flows. At the most obvious level, money is being transferred out of national space altogether, into a booming “offshore” zone. These fleeing trillions undermine national communities in real and symbolic ways. They are a cause of national decay, but they are also a result: for nation states have lost their moral aura, which is one of the reasons tax evasion has become an accepted fundament of 21st-century commerce.

More dramatically, great numbers of people are losing all semblance of a national home, and finding themselves pitched into a particular kind of contemporary hell. Seven years after the fall of Gaddafi’s dictatorship, Libya is controlled by two rival governments, each with its own parliament, and by several militia groups fighting to control oil wealth. But Libya is only one of many countries that appear whole only on maps. Since 1989, barely 5% of the world’s wars have taken place between states: national breakdown, not foreign invasion, has caused the vast majority of the 9 million war deaths in that time. And, as we know from the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Syria, the ensuing vacuum can suck in firepower from all over the world, destroying conditions for life and spewing shell-shocked refugees in every direction. Nothing advertises the crisis of our nation-state system so well, in fact, as its 65 million refugees – a “new normal” far greater than the “old emergency” (in 1945) of 40 million. The unwillingness even to acknowledge this crisis, meanwhile, is appropriately captured by the contempt for refugees that now drives so much of politics in the rich world.
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The crisis was not wholly inevitable. Since 1945, we have actively reduced our world political system to a dangerous mockery of what was designed by US president Woodrow Wilson and many others after the cataclysm of the first world war, and now we are facing the consequences. But we should not leap too quickly into renovation. This system has done far less to deliver human security and dignity than we imagine – in some ways, it has been a colossal failure – and there are good reasons why it is ageing so much more quickly than the empires it replaced.

Even if we wanted to restore what we once had, that moment is gone. The reason the nation state was able to deliver what achievements it did – and in some places they were spectacular – was that there was, for much of the 20th century, an authentic “fit” between politics, economy and information, all of which were organised at a national scale. National governments possessed actual powers to manage modern economic and ideological energies, and to turn them towards human – sometimes almost utopian – ends. But that era is over. After so many decades of globalisation, economics and information have successfully grown beyond the authority of national governments. Today, the distribution of planetary wealth and resources is largely uncontested by any political mechanism.

But to acknowledge this is to acknowledge the end of politics itself. And if we continue to think the administrative system we inherited from our ancestors allows for no innovation, we condemn ourselves to a long period of dwindling political and moral hope. Half a century has been spent building the global system on which we all now depend, and it is here to stay. Without political innovation, global capital and technology will rule us without any kind of democratic consultation, as naturally and indubitably as the rising oceans.

If we wish to rediscover a sense of political purpose in our era of global finance, big data, mass migration and ecological upheaval, we have to imagine political forms capable of operating at that same scale. The current political system must be supplemented with global financial regulations, certainly, and probably transnational political mechanisms, too. That is how we will complete this globalisation of ours, which today stands dangerously unfinished. Its economic and technological systems are dazzling indeed, but in order for it to serve the human community, it must be subordinated to an equally spectacular political infrastructure, which we have not even begun to conceive.

It will be objected, inevitably, that any alternative to the nation-state system is a utopian impossibility. But even the technological accomplishments of the last few decades seemed implausible before they arrived, and there are good reasons to be suspicious of those incumbent authorities who tell us that human beings are incapable of similar grandeur in the political realm. In fact, there have been many moments in history when politics was suddenly expanded to a new, previously inconceivable scale – including the creation of the nation state itself. And – as is becoming clearer every day – the real delusion is the belief that things can carry on as they are.

The first step will be ceasing to pretend that there is no alternative. So let us begin by considering the scale of the current crisis.
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Let us start with the west. Europe, of course, invented the nation state: the principle of territorial sovereignty was agreed at the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648. The treaty made large-scale conquest difficult within the continent; instead, European nations expanded into the rest of the world. The dividends of colonial plunder were converted, back home, into strong states with powerful bureaucracies and democratic polities – the template for modern European life.
By the end of 19th century, European nations had acquired uniform attributes still familiar today – in particular, a set of fiercely enforced state monopolies (defence, taxation and law, among others), which gave governments substantial mastery of the national destiny. In return, a moral promise was made to all: the development, spiritual and material, of citizen and nation alike. Spectacular state-run projects in the fields of education, healthcare, welfare and culture arose to substantiate this promise.

The withdrawal of this moral promise over the past four decades has been a shattering metaphysical event in the west, and one that has left populations rummaging around for new things to believe in. For the promise was a major event in the evolution of the western psyche. It was part of a profound theological reorganisation: the French Revolution dethroned not only the monarch, but also God, whose superlative attributes – omniscience and omnipotence – were now absorbed into the institutions of the state itself. The state’s power to develop, liberate and redeem mankind became the foundational secular faith.

During the period of decolonisation that followed the second world war, the European nation-state structure was exported everywhere. But westerners still felt its moral promise with an intensity peculiar to themselves – more so than ever, in fact, after the creation of the welfare state and decades of unprecedented postwar growth. Nostalgia for that golden age of the nation state continues to distort western political debate to this day, but it was built on an improbable coincidence of conditions that will never recur. Very significant was the structure of the postwar state itself, which possessed a historically unique level of control over the domestic economy. Capital could not flow unchecked across borders and foreign currency speculation was negligible compared to today. Governments, in other words, had substantial control over money flows, and if they spoke of changing things, it was because they actually could. The fact that capital was captive meant they Governments could impose historic rates of taxation, which, in an era of record economic growth, allowed them to channel unprecedented energies into national development. For a few decades, state power was monumental – almost divine, indeed – and it created the most secure and equal capitalist societies ever known.

The destruction of state authority over capital has of course been the explicit objective of the financial revolution that defines our present era. As a result, states have been forced to shed social commitments in order to reinvent themselves as custodians of the market. This has drastically diminished national political authority in both real and symbolic ways. Barack Obama in 2013 called inequality “the defining challenge of our time”, but US inequality has risen continually since 1980, without regard for his qualms or those of any other president.

The picture is the same all over the west: the wealth of the richest continues to skyrocket, while post-crisis austerity cripples the social-democratic welfare state. We can all see the growing fury at governments that refuse to fulfil their old moral promise – but it is most probable that they no longer can. Western governments possess nothing like their previous command over national economic life, and if they continue to promise fundamental change, it is now at the level of PR and wish fulfilment.

There is every reason to believe that the next stage of the techno-financial revolution will be even more disastrous for national political authority. This will arise as the natural continuation of existing technological processes, which promise new, algorithmic kinds of governance to further undermine the political variety. Big data companies (Google, Facebook etc) have already assumed many functions previously associated with the state, from cartography to surveillance. Now they are the primary gatekeepers of social reality: membership of these systems is a new, corporate, de-territorialised form of citizenship, antagonistic at every level to the national kind. And, as the growth of digital currencies shows, new technologies will emerge to replace the other fundamental functions of the nation state. The libertarian dream – whereby antique bureaucracies succumb to pristine hi-tech corporate systems, which then take over the management of all life and resources – is a more likely vision for the future than any fantasy of a return to social democracy.

Governments controlled by outside forces and possessing only partial influence over national affairs: this has always been so in the world’s poorest countries. But in the west, it feels like a terrifying return to primitive vulnerability. The assault on political authority is not a merely “economic” or “technological” event. It is an epochal upheaval, which leaves western populations shattered and bereft. There are outbreaks of irrational rage, especially against immigrants, the appointed scapegoats for much deeper forms of national contamination. The idea of the western nation as a universal home collapses, and transnational tribal identities grow up as a refuge: white supremacists and radical Islamists alike take up arms against contamination and corruption.

The stakes could not be higher. So it is easy to see why western governments are so desperate to prove what everyone doubts: that they are still in control. It is not merely Donald Trump’s personality that causes him to act like a sociopathic CEO. The era of globalisation has seen consistent attempts by US presidents to enhance the authority of the executive, but they are never enough. Trump’s office can never have the level of mastery over American life that Kennedy’s did, so he is obliged to fake it. He cannot make America great again, but he does have Twitter, through which he can establish a lone-gun personality cult – blaming women, leftists and brown people for the state’s impotence. He cannot heal America’s social divisions, but he still controls the security apparatus, which can be deployed to help him look “tough” – declaring war on crime, deporting foreigners, hardening borders. He cannot put more money into the hands of the poor who voted for him, but he can hand out mythological currency instead; even his poorest voters, after all, possess one significant asset – US citizenship – whose value he can “talk up”, as he previously talked up casinos and hotels. Like Putin or Orbán, Trump imbues citizenship with new martial power, and makes a big show of withholding it from people who want it: what is scarcer, obviously, is more precious. Citizens who have nothing are persuaded that they have a lot.
These strategies are ugly, but they cannot simply be blamed on a few bad actors. The predicament is this: political authority is running on empty, and leaders are unable to deliver meaningful material change. Instead, they must arouse and deploy powerful feelings: hatred of foreigners and internal enemies, for instance, or the euphoria of meaningless military exploits (Putin’s annexation of Crimea raised the hugely popular prospect of general Tsarist revival).

But let us not imagine that these strategies will quickly break down under their own deceptions as moderation magically comes back into fashion. As Putin’s Russia has shown, chauvinism is more effective than we like to believe. Partly because citizens are desperate for the cover-up to succeed: deep down, they know to be scared of what will happen if the power of the state is revealed to be a hoax.
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In the world’s poorest countries, the picture is very different. Almost all those nations emerged in the 20th century from the Eurasian empires. It has become de rigueur to despise empires, but they have been the “normal” mode of governance for much of history. The Ottoman empire, which lasted from 1300 until 1922, delivered levels of tranquillity and cultural achievement that seem incredible from the perspective of today’s fractured Middle East. The modern nation of Syria looks unlikely to last more than a century without breaking apart, and it hardly provides security or stability for its citizens.

Empires were not democratic, but were built to be inclusive of all those who came under their rule. It is not the same with nations, which are founded on the fundamental distinction between who is in and who is out – and therefore harbour a tendency toward ethnic purification. This makes them much more unstable than empires, for that tendency can always be stoked by nativist demagogues.

Nevertheless, in the previous century it was decided with amazing alacrity that empires belonged to the past, and the future to nation states. And yet this revolutionary transformation has done almost nothing to close the economic gap between the colonised and the colonising. In the meantime, it has subjected many postcolonial populations to a bitter cocktail of authoritarianism, ethnic cleansing, war, corruption and ecological devastation.

If there are so few formerly colonised countries that are now peaceful, affluent and democratic, it is not, as the west often pretends, because “bad leaders” somehow ruined otherwise perfectly functional nations. In the breakneck pace of decolonisation, nations were thrown together in months; often their alarmed populations fell immediately into violent conflict to control the new state apparatus, and the power and wealth that came with it. Many infant states were held together only by strongmen who entrusted the system to their own tribes or clans, maintained power by stoking sectarian rivalries and turned ethnic or religious differences into super-charged axes of political terror.

The list is not a short one. Consider men such as Ne Win (Burma), Hissène Habré (Chad), Hosni Mubarak (Egypt), Mengistu Haile Mariam (Ethiopia), Ahmed Sékou Touré (Guinea), Muhammad Suharto (Indonesia), the Shah of Iran, Saddam Hussein (Iraq), Muammar Gaddafi (Libya), Moussa Traoré (Mali), General Zia-ul-Haq (Pakistan), Ferdinand Marcos (Philippines), the Kings of Saudi Arabia, Siaka Stevens (Sierra Leone), Mohamed Siad Barre (Somalia), Jaafar Nimeiri (Sudan), Hafez al-Assad (Syria), Idi Amin (Uganda), Mobutu Sese Seko (Zaire) or Robert Mugabe (Zimbabwe).

Such countries were generally condemned to remain what one influential commentator has called “quasi-states”. Formally equivalent to the older nations with which they now shared the stage, they were in reality very different entities, and they could not be expected to deliver comparable benefits to their citizens.

Those dictators could never have held such incoherent states together without tremendous reinforcement from outside, which was what sealed the lid on the pressure cooker. The post-imperial ethos was hospitable to dictators, of course: with the UN’s moral rejection of foreign rule came a universal imperative to respect national sovereignty, no matter what horrors went on behind its closed doors. But the cold war vastly expanded the resources available to brutal regimes for defending themselves against revolution and secession. The two superpowers funded the escalation of post-colonial conflicts to stupefying levels of fatality: at least 15 million died in the proxy wars of that period, in theatres as dispersed as Afghanistan, Korea, El Salvador, Angola and Sudan. And what the superpowers wanted out of all this destruction was a network of firmly installed clients able to defeat all internal rivals.

There was nothing stable about this cold war “stability”, but its devastation was contained within the borders of its proxy states. The breakup of the superpower system, however, has led to the implosion of state authority across large groups of economically and politically impoverished countries – and the resulting eruptions are not contained at all. Destroyed political cultures have given rise to startling “post-national” forces such as Islamic State, which are cutting through national borders and transmitting chaos, potentially, into every corner of the world.

Over the past 20 years, the slow, post-cold-war rot in Africa and the Middle East has been exuberantly exploited by these kinds of forces – whose position, since there are more countries set to go the way of Yemen, South Sudan, Syria and Somalia, is flush with opportunity. Their adherents have lost the enchantment for the old slogans of nation-building. Their political technology is charismatic religion, and the future they seek is inspired by the ancient golden empires that existed before the invention of nations. Militant religious groups in Africa and the Middle East are less engaged in the old project of seizing the state apparatus; instead, they cut holes and tunnels in state authority, and so assemble transnational networks of tax collection, trade routes and military supply lines.
Such a network currently extends from Mauritania in the west to Yemen in the east, and from Kenya and Somalia in the south to Algeria and Syria in the north. This eats away the old political architecture from the inside, making several nation states (such as Mali and the Central African Republic) essentially non-functional, which in turn creates further opportunities for consolidation and expansion. Several ethnic groups, meanwhile – such as the Kurds and the Tuareg – which were left without a homeland after decolonisation, and stranded as persecuted minorities ever since, have also exploited the rifts in state authority to assemble the beginnings of transnational territories. It is in the world’s most dangerous regions that today’s new political possibilities are being imagined.

The west’s commitment to nation states has been self-servingly partial. For many decades, it was content to see large areas of the world suffer under terrifying parodies of well-established Western states; it cannot complain that those areas now display little loyalty to the nation-state idea. Especially since they have also borne the most traumatic consequences of climate change, a phenomenon for which they were least responsible and least equipped to withstand. The strategic calculation of new militant groups in that region is in many ways quite accurate: the transition from empire to independent nation states has been a massive and unremitting failure, and, after three generations, there needs to be a way out.
But there is no possibility that al-Shabaab, the Janjaweed, Seleka, Boko Haram, Ansar Dine, Isis or al-Qaida will provide that way out. The situation requires new ideas of political organisation and global economic redistribution. There is no superpower great enough, any more, to contain the effects of exploding “quasi-states”. Barbed wire and harder borders will certainly not suffice to keep such human disasters at bay.
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Let us turn to the nature of the nation-state system itself. The international order as we know it is not so old. The nation state became the universal template for human political organisation only after the first world war, when a new principle – “national self-determination,”, as US President Woodrow Wilson named it – buried the many other blueprints under debate. Today, after a century of lugubrious “international relations”, the only aspect of this principle we still remember is the one most familiar to us: national independence. But Wilson’s original programme, informed by a loose international coalition including such diverse visionaries as Andrew Carnegie and Leonard Woolf (husband of Virginia), aimed for something far more ambitious: a comprehensive intra-state democracy designed to ensure global cooperation, peace and justice.
How were human beings to live securely in their new nations, after all, if nations themselves were not subject to any law? The new order of nations only made sense if these were integrated into a “society of nations”: a formal global society with its own universal institutions, empowered to police the violence that individual states would not regulate on their own: the violence they perpetrated themselves, whether against other states or their own citizens.

The cold war definitively buried this “society”, and we have lived ever since with a drastically degraded version of what was intended. During that period, both superpowers actively destroyed any constraints on international action, maintaining a level of international lawlessness worthy of the “scramble for Africa”. Without such constraints, their disproportionate power produced exactly what one would expect: gangsterism. The end of the cold war did nothing to change American behaviour: the US is today dependent on lawlessness in international society, and on the perpetual warfare-against-the-weak that is its consequence.

Just as illegitimate government within a nation cannot persist for long without opposition, the illegitimate international order we have lived with for so many decades is quickly exhausting the assent it once enjoyed. In many areas of the world today, there is no remaining illusion that this system can offer a viable future. All that remains is exit. Some are staking everything on a western passport, which, since the supreme value of western life is still enshrined in the system, is the one guarantee of meaningful constitutional protection. But such passports are difficult to get.

That leaves the other kind of exit, which is to take up arms against the state system itself. The appeal of Isis for its converts was its claim to erase from the Middle East the catastrophe of the post-imperial century. It will be remembered that the group’s most triumphant publicity was associated with its penetration of the Iraq-Syria border. This was presented as a victory over the 1916 treaties by which the British and French divided the Ottoman Empire amongst themselves – Isis’s PR arm issued the Twitter hashtag #SykesPicotOver – and inaugurated a century of Mesopotamian bombing. It arose from an entirely justifiable rejection of a system that obstinately designated – during the course of a century and more – Arabs as “savages” to whom no dignity or protection would be extended.

The era of national self-determination has turned out to be an era of international lawlessness, which has crippled the legitimacy of the nation state system. And, while revolutionary groups attempt to destroy the system “from below”, assertive regional powers are destroying it “from above” – by infringing national borders in their own backyards. Russia’s escapade in Ukraine demonstrates that there are now few consequences to neo-imperial bagatelles, and China’s route to usurping the 22nd-richest country in the world – Taiwan – lies open. The true extent of our insecurity will be revealed as the relative power of the US further declines, and it can no longer do anything to control the chaos it helped create.
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The three elements of the crisis described here will only worsen. First, the existential breakdown of rich countries during the assault on national political power by global forces. Second, the volatility of the poorest countries and regions, now that the departure of cold war-era strongmen has revealed their true fragility. And third, the illegitimacy of an “international order” that has never aspired to any kind of “society of nations” governed by the rule of law.
Since they are all rooted in transnational forces whose scale eludes the reach of any one nation’s politics, they are largely immune to well-meaning political reform within nations (though the coming years will also see many examples of such reform). So we are obliged to re-examine its ageing political foundations if we do not wish to see our global system pushed to ever more extreme forms of collapse.

This is not a small endeavour: it will take the better part of this century. We do not know yet where it will lead. All we can lay out now is a set of directions. From the standpoint of our present, they will seem impossible, because we have not known any other way. But that is how adical novelty always begins.
The first is clear: global financial regulation. Today’s great engines of wealth creation are distributed in such a way as to elude national taxation systems (94% of Apple’s cash reserves are held offshore; this $250bn is greater than the combined foreign reserves of the British government and the Bank of England), which is diminishing all nation states, materially and symbolically. There is no reason to heed those interested parties who tell us global financial regulation is impossible: it is technologically trivial compared to the astonishing systems those same parties have already built.

The history of the nation state is one of perennial tax innovation, and the next such innovation is transnational: we must build systems to track transnational money flows, and to transfer a portion of them into public channels. Without this, our political infrastructure will continue to become more and more superfluous to actual material life. In the process we must also think more seriously about global redistribution: not aid, which is exceptional, but the systematic transfer of wealth from rich to poor for the improved security of all, as happens in national societies.

Second: global flexible democracy. As new local and transnational political currents become more powerful, the nation state’s rigid monopoly on political life is becoming increasingly unviable. Nations must be nested in a stack of other stable, democratic structures – some smaller, some larger than they – so that turmoil at the national level does not lead to total breakdown. The EU is the major experiment in this direction, and it is significant that the continent that invented the nation state was also the first to move beyond it. The EU has failed in many of its functions, principally because it has not established a truly democratic ethos. But free movement has hugely democratised economic opportunity within the EU. And insofar as it may become a “Europe of regions” – comprising Catalonia and Scotland, not only Spain and the UK – it can help stabilise national political upheaval.

We need more such experiments in continental and global politics. National governments themselves need to be subjected to a superior tier of authority: they have proved to be the most dangerous forces in the nation-state era, waging endless wars against other nations while oppressing, killing and otherwise failing their own populations. Oppressed national minorities must be given a legal mechanism to appeal over the heads of their own governments – this was always part of Wilson’s vision and its loss has been terrible for humanity.
Third, and finally: we need to find new conceptions of citizenship. Citizenship is itself the primordial kind of injustice in the world. It functions as an extreme form of inherited property and, like other systems in which inherited privilege is overwhelmingly determinant, it arouses little allegiance in those who inherit nothing. Many countries have made efforts, through welfare and education policy, to neutralise the consequences of accidental advantages such as birth. But “accidental advantages” rule at the global level: 97% of citizenship is inherited, which means that the essential horizons of life on this planet are already determined at birth.

If you are born Finnish, your legal protections and economic expectations are of such a different order to those of a Somalian or Syrian that even mutual understanding is difficult. Your mobility – as a Finn – is also very different. But in a world system – rather than a system of nations – there can be no justification for such radical divergences in mobility. Deregulating human movement is an essential corollary of the deregulation of capital: it is unjust to preserve the freedom to move capital out of a place and simultaneously forbid people from following.

Contemporary technological systems offer models for rethinking citizenship so it can be de-linked from territory, and its advantages can be more fairly distributed. The rights and opportunities accruing to western citizenship could be claimed far away, for instance, without anyone having to travel to the west to do so. We could participate in political processes far away that nonetheless affect us: if democracy is supposed to give voters some control over their own conditions, for instance, should a US election not involve most people on earth? What would American political discourse look like, if it had to satisfy voters in Iraq or Afghanistan?

On the eve of its centenary, our nation-state system is already in a crisis from which it does not currently possess the capacity to extricate itself. It is time to think how that capacity might be built. We do not yet know what it will look like. But we have learned a lot from the economic and technological phases of globalisation, and we now possess the basic concepts for the next phase: building the politics of our integrated world system. We are confronted, of course, by an enterprise of political imagination as significant as that which produced the great visions of the 18th century – and, with them, the French and American Republics. But we are now in a position to begin.

Rana Dasgupta is the author of two novels and a non-fiction portrait of twenty-first-century Delhi. His next book, After Nations, will appear in 2019.

The Soviet Union is alive and well — in the USA

Conformism is a danger to any society, including democratic ones. The Americans, who pride themselves on their individualism, are, in fact, often quite conformist in their behavior. Look at the American cities or how people dress and what they eat, and you discover a great deal of conformity. Strangely enough, that conformism can go hand-in-hand with the belief that you are free, independent, and your own individual person.

Conformism is also a political problem and a political danger. Read this article, watch the embedded video, and decide for yourself. https://theconcourse.deadspin.com/how-americas-largest-local-tv-owner-turned-its-news-anc-1824233490

The Common Good

Michael Shirrefs, an Australian researcher and journalist, and his wife came to visit me for an interview. We talked about politics, America, European unity and disunity, and finally the question whether we still have a concept of the common good. How does it look in Trump’s America where billionaires from the president down preach populism but are always ultimately, it seems, in pursuit of their self-enrichment? Do the Europeans still have a sense of a common destiny? Or is the project of a European Union now moribund – reduced to an increasingly unattractive bureaucratic order?

Answers don’t come easily. We find ourselves politically today in a state of exceptional uncertainty. Our world has become so multi-faceted that we find it increasingly difficult to say with confidence where we are and where we are going. To pick one example. The future of every country, including the US and China, will depend very much on the training and education of their young. But do we have a comprehensive view of the strengths and weaknesses of the educational systems of the US and China to be able to say where they will be relative to each other in the next generation? Our world is changing so quickly (in population size, technology, and environmental conditions) that the concepts we have used for so long to make sense of our political reality are losing their grip. Contemporary, manipulated mass “democracy” is no longer democracy in the classical sense. “Freedom” is no longer being free except in narrowly circumscribed situations. And even “politics” is no longer politics as we have known it without its capacity for cooperatively determining a common good. But we lack alternative, new concepts for describing adequately where we are. We find ourselves, in other words, in an empire of disorientation.

This is also the hour for political reflection and awareness or, to put it more ambitiously, the hour of political philosophy. Politics, in the truest sense, is the search for a common good, for a common understanding of the world that allows us to navigate our co-existence. Our question is whether we can revitalize this kind of politics and motivate a sense of the common good relevant for where we are now. We should not expect the political philosophers to tell us what this good will consist in. There is no fixed good to be determined once and for all through expert philosophical reasoning. There are, rather, many different ways to conceive this good and they are not all compatible with each other. Our search for security, for instance, may clash with our desire for freedom, our wish for progress with our adherence to tradition, our desire for justice with our need for liberality and forbearance. Politics is the appropriate domain in which we weigh such choices and affirm this or that common good.

There is a danger in finding ourselves in a world where the parameters of human existence are fixed. That is the totalitarianism Hannah Arendt has warned us about – an anti-political condition in which the cooperative search for the common good has been cut off. In Arendt’s view, this totalitarianism – exemplified in the last century by Soviet Communism and German National Socialism – is by no means a thing of the past. She does not assume that we are political by nature and by necessity. Being political is, rather, for her a human capacity that may atrophy. We may not yet be at this point. It appears offhand that the dark cloud of totalitarianism has receded, at least temporarily, from our coastline. But our new digital media with their potential for large-scale social control may still bring it back and now in an updated and streamlined form.

Totalitarianism is, however, not the only threat we face. Another is the possibility of a chaotic world in which we have abandoned the search for a common good in favor of an unconstrained free-for-all. A complete individualism is, perhaps, an impossible thing. We are social beings right from the moment we are born. We would not even be able to establish ourselves in our individuality without the use of language which exists always and only in the space between us. For all that, the neglect of the need for a common ground and a common good, can still create both misery and chaos.

Europe illustrates the difficulties we face. Its people have lived together for millennia but they have also been separated from each other for millennia by language, tradition, culture, religion, and political affiliation. They have fought each other in terrifyingly destructive wars. For that reason there has also already existed for some time the idea of a unified Europe. 150 years ago, Nietzsche, for instance, was writing of the sickness of European nationalism and his desire to be a good European. After 1945 and the devastations of the Second World War, the Europeans finally seemed to have found a way to make common cause. What united them was their shared belief that the horrors of the past must not be repeated. But that conviction has begun to fade and now the political unification of Europe appears imperiled because of a lack of common purpose. National identity seems to be the best, the Europeans can fall back on.  I agree with Nietzsche that this would be a terrible option. But a new common ground can be found only when the Europeans recognize their diversity as one of their distinctive features and make that the base of their common understanding.