A stable and tranquil society is a goal of all politics and certain Western countries seem to have achieved that goal. This admirable condition is sometimes called “Democratic Consensus”, and for some it’s the closest thing to an ideal state in the liberalist tradition.
But there is something inherently contradictory about this concept. “Democratic” presupposes free choice and competition whereas “consensus” implies agreement and cooperation. If you agree too much with your adversaries and cooperate extensively with them, the competition will be limited and the customers, or the voters, will have less to choose from.
There has been a clear trend throughout a century of democracy in Western Europe toward a greater similarity between the political parties and thereby the outcomes of elections have become less important. The more similar the alternatives are, the less choice you have, and less choice means less democracy. However, there is indeed more consensus. Now, what is more preferable?
Democracy is constantly presented as the greatest political good, but if that were taken seriously a high degree of conflict should be encouraged in order to increase the scope of choice. But instead we see that most commentators lament divisive tendencies during election campaigns. The recent US imbroglio was not exactly an exercise in consensus, but it did present a clearer choice than what has often been the case when a populace is called to the polls.
It is understandable that many observers regret the emergence of populist movements jeopardizing that peaceful consensus, but it doesn’t make sense to denounce them as undemocratic.
Power corrupts. The will to power is the will to corruption. An honest man does not seek power.
The philosopher kings, the fictitious rulers of Plato’s ideal republic, had to be forced to take power. They sacrificed themselves for the good of the community, but would rather have wanted to keep their purity as private citizens. In real life there is no such sense of sacrifice in a public office and if a powerful man actually claims to be sacrificing himself, he is probably the greatest hypocrite. Power is the highest honor and the highest reward for a scoundrel. We should detest our politicians, for they do it all for themselves.
Unluckily, in democratic states a politician needs to be liked to be elected, and the quest for popularity accompanies the quest for power. That confuses the picture. When the highest leader is loved and admired, the blame of bad government is not put on him, and the people believe in the lies and accept their misery.
Not so in a dictatorship. There people look at their grey and shadowy leaders and know who is guilty. The government lies to them and they know it. They hate their politicians and that is their realism. Only those who know the world they live in will know how to change it.
The beloved ruler is a dangerous deception. He makes the power look attractive and thereby he also corrupts his people.
It is a criminal act, according to French law, to deny that the killing of Armenians in Turkey in 1915 was genocide.
If we try to investigate this question, we therefore run the risk of becoming criminals. It’s incredible that there can be such a law in the free French republic, but the threat of punishment didn’t stop Socrates from searching for the truth and it shouldn’t stop us either.
Was it genocide then? Well, first of course we have to know what genocide is and the United Nations Genocide Convention provides a definition: It is “acts committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group”. Now, go ahead and investigate the Armenian incident or any other case of mass killing, and see if it qualifies.
But wait a moment. There is one problem with this definition which always makes it possible to doubt if something is a case of genocide. That little word “intent” is extremely elusive. How do you ever decisively prove that anyone really intended to do anything?
You may perhaps be able to prove the intent of one single action committed by one single person, but when many people are involved, the collective action will usually be a complicated combination of various individual intentions. Moreover, an outcome of an event may be the result of a chain of action where only the first act was clearly intended.
Even the most clear-cut murder is habitually questioned by defense lawyers. The accused did kill the victim, they may say, but he didn’t really intend to. It was an accident, a matter of self-defense, a case of insanity etc. etc.
Now, if a simple “ordinary” murder can be that complicated to reconstruct, how complex must it not be to deal with a situation of war involving hundreds of thousands of people. Was there really one intending mind behind it all?
And even if you think there was, the issue is so intricate that you must admit that it is possible to have different opinions. At least a truth seeking person should be allowed to investigate the matter and if he draws a conclusion that the French lawmakers disagree with, he should not be made a criminal.
The German parliament has condemned Turkey for its action against Armenians. The condemnation was issued this year, but the events occurred a hundred years ago. The urgent question was: Did the Turks commit genocide? And the all-wise parliament was not in doubt: They did!
How they could be so sure, I don’t know, but obviously the Bundestag consists entirely of historians and legal experts. Even so, it is hardly the business of a national assembly to make statements about historical events. The representatives are usually more than busy running their country of today, so why was it suddenly necessary to turn their attention to the distant past? The statement caused a minor diplomatic crisis between Germany and Turkey. For what purpose?
No, it is not about history. It is of course all about Europe of today. Turkey has become an outcast and any measure can be used to emphasize that.
Was it genocide? It’s an irrelevant question. What happened to the Armenians in Turkey in 1915 was terrible. They were deported and many of them were killed in the process. What does it matter what you call it?
Whether or not something falls within a certain definition doesn’t add anything to its nature. Words are just words. Finding the right definition is important for authors of dictionaries, not members of parliaments.
Definitions may also be useful for legal purposes, but then the object is to decide on the measure of punishment for the accused. The culprits of hundred year old murders cannot be put on trial, so naming the alleged crime is hardly meaningful. But even if it was, that is an appropriate activity of a court, not a parliament.
The Macedonia naming dispute is absurd. Those of us who are not Greek cannot understand it, and we should not understand it either. Let the Greek try to explain it to us and it remains meaningless.
The only thing that is understandable in this squabble is human psychology, for of that we are all victims. We are so easily upset about empty symbols – flags and names without content. We want something to fight for and simple principles can be readily followed and incites to action. Reality is complicated, ideas are complicated, but symbols can be grasped without thinking.
Why shouldn’t the country be called Macedonia? Other countries of the world are also named after peoples who no longer occupy the area and if it doesn’t exactly encompass the land of Alexander the Great, it is at least quite close. It is therefore a historically reasonable name. But even if it wasn’t, even if the name was conceived out of thin air, why would it matter? Shouldn’t anyone be allowed to call themselves whatever they want?
Names are not scarce assets. Two persons may bear the same name without being robbed of anything.
Normally when there is a conflict between two countries some sort of real resource is at stake and even ridiculous quarrels imply that a gain for one is a loss for the other. But conflicts between countries are also about honor, and often the visible point of dispute conceals the pursuit of some national glory. In that sense the Macedonian dispute is more honest since there is no material reality behind it whatsoever. It reveals national vanity undisguised.
All the more reason, one may think, to appeal to common sense and put aside the self-destructive rigidity. But the opposite is probably the case; people are all too willing to sacrifice reality for illusive honor.
The Macedonians (or whatever they should be called) must suffer for this. They may be right in principle, but is it really worth it? Isn’t Fyrom as good as any name? A name has no reality anyway.
A Bear - Poles Apart 