Assad cannot have used chemical weapons. It’s impossible because it is illogical. No one acts totally against his own interests, and no one who is desperately fighting for his survival commits suicide. Not even a bloodthirsty butcher would do that, and especially not one who is considered as shrewed and calcultaing as the Syrian president. He knew that a chemical attack with great probability would lead to an American intervention, and that must be the last thing he would risk.
When there is doubt about who has committed an act, the most obvious question too ask is of course who benefits from that act. In this case the answer is simple. Only the rebels could benefit from a chemical attack because only they wanted a Western intervention. This logic is so trivial that it feels like repeating something bleeding obvious, but it’s astounding how rarely we hear it expressed in the Western press and hardly any major Western politician has said it. They have just decided that Assad is the guilty one. Why is that?
All the actors in this ongoing game have long since found their allies. The West is anti-Assad and so is the Sunni part of the Muslim countries. They interprete any event as a confirmation of their previously held views. That phenomenon is of course well-known, but in this conflict it seems somewhat strange since many of the actors disagree with themselves about what is to be done. They are not sure they want to intervene, but they are sure that Assad is the criminal. Their perception of reality has been decided once and for all, but it’s not yet clear to them how to react to this reality.
The strategic map looked simpler when the war in Syria started two years ago. At that time it may have been easier to form a picture of what an American intervention would mean. The development since then have made people more hesitant, but that basic wish to intervene is still there. Whatever happens may only modify their practical strategy. It doesn’t affect their fundamental attitude.
Assad is bad, therefore he uses chemical weapons. Don’t try to contradict this argument by means of logic.
Rome fell. Rome is the eternal city, so Rome cannot fall.
Another Rome arose. Constantinople inherited its greatness when barbarians and vandals invaded the west. For another thousand years the eastern empire would endure, and then Constantinople fell. Rome cannot fall.
A third Rome had to emerge and Moscow would continue its greatness. The first city was devoured by papist heresy, the second one was occupied by infidel Muslims, but the third would keep the true faith and shine forth to the world. Moscow was the third Rome. This third birth happened in the fifteenth century, and there would never be a forth, it was said. Thus Moscow is still the custodian of true doctrine.
But much has befallen Russia and its capital in the last five hundred year. The country has seen extreme transformations. Could there possibly be any constancy in this destructive chaos? True, orthodox Christianity had been the foundation of that conservative society through centuries, but then the revolution hit. Was 1917 the end of all that had been? Not at all. Moscow remained the third one.
The czarist empire had long been watching the European political theater from a comfortable distance. It was not so close that it risked getting hit by stray bullets and not so remote that it could not make well aimed interventions. Russia was always the third corner of the triangle and a communist revolution did not change that position.
“The earth will rise on new foundations,” sung the communists and forgot that they themselves had grown from the old ones. The Russian revolution had sprung from Russian soil and its Roman empire continued regardless of its Soviet name.
One used to talk about the world being divided into three worlds: The capitalist, the underdeveloped and communist one. That last alternative emanated from Moscow and lasted for seventy years, and whatever its shortcomings may have been, it was indeed an alternative.
The wall fell and Russia was left weak and perplexed in those confused ‘90s, but we may choose to regard that as a parenthesis in the Roman history of Moscow. For a while the country was seemingly stumbling behind the West without an idea on its own, but it was probably just slumbering. Gradually an alternative has reemerged, and today Moscow is something else again. The West is having an open conflict with a part of the world, and Moscow is the third power; the Third Rome.
Many have wished to get Constantinople back. Imagine if we could correct all injustice of history and create a new and beautiful world in our own image! The romantic easily gets carried away. He allows himself to be hypnotized by his own ideals and begins to believe in the possibility of the impossible. He believes in the world and in the future. You should not scorn the romantic.
When a war broke out between Russia and the Ottoman Empire in 1877, some people fantasized about the reconquest of Constantinople. The great Russian poet, Dostoyevsky, who had painted icons of words about how the loving Christ would win the world, now envisioned how that ancient city of Christendom would be captured with sword and blood. He is not the only one to have imagined how millennia of eternal peace would arise from war. Unfortunately for Dostoyevsky, the war was short and the peace prosaic. He himself died shortly after, but the romantics live. Long live the romantics!
Constantinople is a dream. Christ’s earthly empire has never existed and will never exist, but feel free to dream about it. Enter a church and light the candles in front of the icons, listen to the song and dream.
There are too many realists in this world. The realist can tell you that today Constantinople (or Istanbul as he calls it) is an enormously big city of thirteen million inhabitants, and it doesn’t have the slightest resemblance to the city that fell 560 years ago.
Only realists go to Istanbul. The romantic stays at home and dreams.
It’s far too easy to travel nowadays. Simple and effective; only a few hours are needed to arrive at an exotic destination and break your dreams.
Don’t go to Istanbul. Rather, imagine Istanbul the way it was and create your own reality. Who knows, maybe your reality is no less real than what you would see down there on the ground in a modern metropolis. Cars and buildings, dust and smog; that’s what you would see. Is that reality? In that case Istanbul is just like any other too big city in our too modern world, but you know that’s not true. Many things may seem similar before we have understood them, and understanding can only be achieved through abstraction; when the impressions have been lifted out of the concrete physics and into the world of ideas. The idea of Constantinople is real.
What was it that actually happened on the 29th of May 1453? Did a world fall? No, just a city, but for centuries the historical imagination has granted a global significance to this local event.
Constantinople had once been the capital of Christendom. From there mighty emperors had imitated the greatness of Rome with the orthodox religion as a legitimizing force, and from here patriarchs had been shining as if from Jerusalem. Constantinople had been symbol of the victorious Christianity, and now it had fallen. No wonder the recollection of the 29th of May has troubled Christians for more than five hundred years, and been a sweet memory for Muslims. Yes, history certainly remembers the event, but history has since moved on. 560 years and still counting; history seems to have no end.
History is a circle. The wheel turns and comes back to its starting point. The events are repeated. Stories are told about victory and defeat and they look alike.
History has seen many falls; the fall of empires, cities, dynasties and walls. Something falls, and something new arises. Sometimes what comes is better than what has been and sometimes the loss weighs heavier. That of course depends on the perspective of the observer. When there is more improvement than deterioration, it’s called progress. Some say the world progresses.
On the great scale of history, we may try to weigh whatever has happened. Was it good or was it rather bad? An infinite number of elements may be taken into consideration, and we may not yet have seen all the consequences of something that occurred in a distant past.
We can quarrel over good and evil – history certainly knows a lot of evil but also goodness – but nothing in the human world is only good or only evil. The fall of Constantinople may have been bad for Christians and good for Muslims, but not even that is unambiguous.
The fall of an empire is generally preceded by a period of decadence. (At least that’s how the chroniclers present it to posterity.) The East Roman Empire
had seen dreadful excesses in court and society, and it had often been a mockery of own ideals. Maybe it was good for the Christians that it fell. Islam expanded, but that religion had long since been torn by internal strife. What good is a conquest if one cannot conquer oneself? Etc… Choose another historic event and other actors can be asked the same questions.
History repeats itself, and the fall of Constantinople was an event similar to many others. But still, its symbolic monument incites the imagination.
It’s not a city, it’s a symbol. It’s on a border which is not a border but just a thought experiment.
Bosporus, the strait that actually divides this city, divides in our imagination the entire world into East and West. Whoever crosses the strip of water, instantly leaves Europe and sails into Asia. Is that a gigantic step for mankind? No, visitors tell you that nothing changes by this continental shift. The city is still Istanbul; a modern Turkish metropolis.
It’s any city in any world, one should think. But our minds like categorizing, for that’s the only way for us to understand our chaotic world. The earth is not as one colored as it seems from the point of view of the universe. It consists of an infinite number of nuances, but there are no borders between the colors. They blur into an impressionistic lack of understanding. Therefore we need to construct an Istanbul; a place that marks the dividing line between different concepts.
There probably is a Europe. It doesn’t start on Bosporus, but we ought to think that it exists. It somehow makes sense to talk about a certain unity that is made from something called culture and formed in time and in space; that is, in history and in geography.
Once when the world was big, it was not easy for ideas to travel. They had time to get shaped in isolated areas. One idea, the idea of Christianity, was formed in Europe and formed Europe. It happened west of Bosporus, but also east of this watershed. Through centuries Istanbul was not at all a border between ideas and cultures.
Just like geography, history doesn’t have any real borders either. We only mention dates to keep a certain order, for the world remains the same also after a big and famous date. On the 29th of May 1453, the city we call Istanbul was conquered. That was the final fall of the Roman Empire, we imagine, even though that ancient greatness had shrunk to the size of insignificance by then. But again, when we talk about Istanbul, the symbol is what matters, for before reality is mentally processed there is nothing but chaos.
Plato’s philosopher kings are not technocrats, because they are not experts in any particular field. They are moral authorities who oversee the constitution and guard the harmony of the carefully established state against any excess or any shift in the minutely calculated balance between the different parts of society. Their wisdom is justice, and that is not a knowledge, theoretical or practical, that is aimed at achieving some economic objectives similar to what modern technocrats or central planners are supposed to achieve. Financial experts would play a subordinate role in the republic just like experts in any other particular field like shipbuilding or shoemaking, and their knowledge would probably also be both theoretical and practical.
The institution of philosopher kings is essential to Plato’s republic. Many modern readers are shocked by this arrogant claim to power and see it as a recipe for totalitarian dictatorship. But in fact that is exactly what the philosopher kings are guarding against.
At first glance the republic looks horribly totalitarian. Everything is strictly regulated and it seems to be begging for someone to take control of it all and turn everybody into slaves. Like for any other absolutist model of society, for example communist experiments in recent history, one feels like commenting that it may look nice in theory, but it would be horrible if put into practice. Actually any political model fails when meeting reality. History abundantly shows how beautiful intentions have turned into ugly monsters. That happens when the idealists meet the opportunists. People crave for power and no matter which ideology nominally rules society that very ideology will be used by individuals in order to gain and exercise power. (The communist leaders of the east led very uncommunist lives, and the societies they created were not communist at all.) In Plato’s republic, on the other hand, that abuse of power would not be possible, because the leaders of that just society would themselves be just.
Also Plato clearly states that the philosopher kings don’t want to rule at all, but do so reluctantly as a sacrifice. There would be no personal ambitions to obstruct the good of society. Isn’t personal ambition the one eternal problem that lies between us and the good society? Why not accept this argument then: If the structures of the state are perfectly just and the rulers of the state are perfectly just, then the state will be perfectly just. (The rulers must of course be real rulers, i.e. they must be obeyed.) (Of course perfection doesn’t exist in this world, but it can still serve as a model.)
Another note: The idea of philosopher kings may not be as foreign to us as we think. Isn’t that what we most of all want from our elected leaders? That they be good and just and only have the public good in mind. They deceive us of course, but that’s another story.
This was a response to
There are two worlds in this world. One of them consists of America, Europe, Africa, Oceania and almost the entire Asia, it’s called “the world” for short. The other one is North Korea.
Once upon a time there were many worlds in this world. Traveling was an adventure and staying meant safety for whatever one had. Societies could develop by their own forces, and only the people belonging to the particular worlds could change them.
Now the world is occupied by aliens; one of the worlds, that is, the other one, is free. North Korea is free, because only North Korea can change North Korea.
An individual is free when only he himself can change himself. If a person exists who cannot be swayed by anyone else, who acts according to his own will only, that person is free. North Korea is such a person. It has chosen its own unique society, and no other country on earth is able to do that. All other countries are ruled by forces other than themselves, and there’s relatively little the local governments can do to adjust the invisible forces that pour in from abroad or from nowhere. North Korea rules itself.
If you’re not happy with the world you live in, there’s only one place you can go. So at least you have a choice. Go to the last alternative there is. Go there and stay there.
Not interested? True, North Korea is a crazy place, but the world is also a crazy place. If there are at least two instances of craziness, that still leaves you a choice, doesn’t it?
Of course it doesn’t. The choices of the modern world are illusions. It’s the kind of choice that gunboat diplomacy traditionally offers: You are free two choose whether we will shoot you or not.
I’m not going to North Korea, because I want to stay in the world. Here I’m a slave to forces that are way beyond my control, but in that other place I would also be slave. Here at least I can guess what is going on around me, but there I would have no idea.
Still I want to keep North Korea in my imagination, for that dreadful dictatorship is the only existing alternative to this world.
What does the society of your dreams look like? An Islamic state? A communist collective? A Christian theocracy? A liberal democracy? You can think what you want, and you can believe what you want. You can even fight for another society, but that society must be a liberal democracy. You can do whatever you want without limits, as long as you stay within our limits. That’s what the leaders of the West are saying today, that’s what the rulers of all countries of the earth are saying, and that’s what kings and princes have been telling their subjects at all times in history. You can do what you want as long as you do what we want.
Isn’t that what you are being told at home in your comfortable union of Europe and America? You don’t think it is? You only hear the phrase “you can do whatever you want”? Well, maybe you don’t want to do anything against your leaders anyway, so much the better for you. But suppose you were not satisfied with the state you live in, and you would prefer an Islamic or a communist one. Do you think your government would allow you to fight for that state of your dreams? Well, if you are alone with your devious thoughts, they may see you as a joke and ignore you, but if you and your friends became a perceived threat to the existing order, you would surely be stopped. An Islamic state protects Islam, and a democratic state protects democracy. Is there a difference?
You may reply that democracy is not a social system but only a system of choosing the government and that it doesn’t promote one particular form of society. But then, why do all Western democratic countries look relatively similar? One would think that given the diversity of cultural and historical differences each country would get its own unique social system once the people were granted a free choice.
No, your choice is not free. You can only bow to the inevitable forces that are pouring over you. An invisible spirit, modernity, demands that you follow voluntarily and accept the limited menu that is being offered to you.
Some societies are falling apart, and some are peaceful and stable. Where do you want to live? Obviously in a quiet place.
The reasons for a country’s misery are many and few of them are pretty. But in the middle of their ugly situation, there is a paradox with a hint of mild beauty. There is conflict, yes, there is strife, and there is even civil war, and that is the symptom of an extreme disagreement about the direction of the country.
But is disagreement bad? A democracy encourages disagreement.
Disagreement, unpleasant as it is, means that there are real choices available. The more disagreement, the more choices and accordingly more democracy.
In the prosperous and stable countries of the West there’s little fundamental disagreement. The differences that exist between the established parties barely touch the surface of the vast pool of ideas that could have been debated. It seems as if the truth has already been found, and now we can quietly go to sleep on a full stomach and let the politicians do their job in mutual harmony. Why not? We have no choice anyway. Exactly because the institutions of a stable democracy are so stable, real choices have been eliminated and democracy has been canceled. Democracy is not democratic.
But then sometimes disaster hits. In Greece, the cradle of warring factions, the threat of bankruptcy attacked and the political structure crumbled. The road was no longer smooth, and a real question arose; where should the country go? Last year, in the middle of financial chaos, the Greeks were presented with a real democratic choice. A party which proposed a very different solution to their problems was suddenly a realistic alternative. Great distress had enlarged the scope of choice and thereby made the country more democratic. That was good, wasn’t it?
Well, I’m not sure how happy the Greeks are at the moment and countries that have escaped the crisis so far don’t seem to be envious. There is no stream of pilgrimage toward modern Greece to learn about its expanding range of democracy. Germans and Canadians are content to stay where they are, in countries which offer few political alternatives, but which give them a quiet and lazy stability.
And who can blame them? We don’t want democracy.
Democracy means that the people have a choice. Can we agree on that? If so, the more choices they have, the more democratic the country is.
A one party state is usually not considered democratic even if people vote for that one party. A two party state is probably more democratic, but is a three party state even more so? Or a hundred party state? No, it’s not the number of parties that matters, but the number of real choices. If you can choose between a hundred different dishes, but they are all fish dishes, then you don’t have a free choice of diet. In reality you only have one choice. If you can vote for a hundred different parties, but they are all communist parties, you don’t have a real choice. If all the parties you can choose from are clustered together in the middle of the political road occupying a tiny space of the potentially vast ideological spectrum, then you don’t have a real choice. That’s how most Western democracies look today. They don’t give you much choice, so they can’t be considered very democratic.
In some countries, at some points of time, the people do have a real choice. That generally happens in times of great confusion. One system of government has recently fallen and there is uncertainty as to which direction the country is to take. The 1996 election in Russia was such a time. The people had a real choice between a Soviet communist candidate and a Western capitalist one, and no one could predict who would win. Last year’s election in Egypt was another moment when a real choice was laid in the hands of the people: Old regime, Western liberalism or a Muslim society.
Such elections must be considered to be very democratic because they really gave the people a choice. However, such times are not good times for the people, are they? The society is falling apart, there is chaos and insecurity and many people fear the future. It’s the most democratic of times, but it’s not a time when it’s comfortable to live. People don’t want that. People want stability, not real democracy.
Real democracy is not an ideal.
A Bear - Poles Apart 