The consistency problem

Regular readers of these entries will be aware that I regard consistency of action as a key area of political legitimation and where a particular actor is seen as inconsistent, as not abiding by his/her stated principles, the result is to discredit whatever he/she does. No one ever promised that consistency would be easy and, indeed, most cultures will construct escape hatches to allow for human error, change, vis maior or other circumstances that would otherwise result in stagnation or stasis. All the same, when a particular collectivity perceives the actions and attitudes of another as inconsistent – and subjective perception is central in this connection – then a sense of injustice will very likely follow and the arguments of the inconsistent party will be rejected.

Applying this principle to the foreign responses to the Fidesz-KDNP government in Hungary, there are several areas of inconsistency that have had unintended consequences. The government in general and the prime minister, Viktor Orbán  in particular, have been subjected to a flood of criticism in the Western media (see also the blog entry for the 25 April). Most of these take the form of concern over democracy and, for what it is worth, reflect the views of the heavily defeated Hungarian opposition in their epistemology.

This, of course, immediately brings into question the objectivity and journalistic neutrality on the basis of which these reports are formulated. If one looks at the structure of these articles, then it rapidly becomes clear that there is very little attempt to assess Hungarian developments either from the perspective of the government or of non-opposition opinion. Thus I have yet to see an article that tries to assess the entirety of the Fidesz coalition’s reform programme in a holistic manner. True, I haven’t seen every article written on Hungary, but those that I have broadly follow a similar structure and the reform process is not a part of that.

Where these critiques, which are all too often little more polemics, lose their persuasiveness for the Hungarian majority that continues to support the government, despite an economically pretty painful year, is in the (perceived) inconsistency that the Western media is ready to condemn the Fidesz government for things that have yet to happen (e.g. the furore over the media law), but treated its left-wing predecessor with kid gloves.

Gyurcsány’s lying speech was dismissed with a mildly amused shake of the head and no article (that came my way) ever sought to see that from that moment on, in 2006, the Gyurcsány government had lost its legitimacy in Hungary. As a result it was forced to look for support abroad, which it received and for which it paid the price in deference to Western wishes and the neglect of the national interest. This further eroded its legitimacy at home, but by then that no longer mattered.

Note too that this legitimacy imbalance – weak at home, stronger abroad – has tended to accelerate an analogous process in the left-wing intelligentsia which senses that its views have limited resonance at home, but play well abroad. In the annals of political theory all the same, the reliance of the Gyurcsány government and its supporting intellectual penumbra on external legitimacy is most unusual in a democracy, albeit in the non-democratic Soviet-type systems, this was the norm. Maybe it was this structural resemblance to the Soviet period that stuck in the craw in Hungarian opinion; the two-thirds majority received by the Fidesz-KDNP coalition did not happen by chance.

The key moment, to my mind, in the process of establishing inconsistency was not the lying speech, however, but the events of the 23 October 2006. This was the 50th anniversary of the 1956 revolution and the Fidesz commemoration, which was legal and peaceful, and was dispersed with great brutality at the Gyurcsány government’s behest. Without question, this constituted a serious violation of democratic principles and human rights. Yet, and this is where the inconsistency becomes blatant, neither the Western media nor Hungary’s EU partners were much bothered by this violation; indeed, they continued to give the Gyurcsány government their support.

For much of Hungarian opinion, this was and remains unforgivable, it has contributed to a palpable Euroscepticism (much to my personal regret) and it undoubtedly played a role in the radicalisation that gave Jobbik not quite one-fifth of the vote in the 2010. But this assessment did not appear to play a role in the thinking of the Western media, hence its steadily diminishing acceptance in Hungary. In effect, the question in the minds of people is: where were you after the 23 October 2006 with your concern for the violations of democracy and human rights? The concerns that are raised now are correspondingly less cogent precisely because of the silence before 2010.

There is a second inconsistency, however, that also demands scrutiny. The condemnations of the Fidesz government by the Western media are customarily based on the principles adopted by the EU and the supposition that the aforesaid government is in breach of these. In reality no hard evidence, of a kind that would stand up in a court of law, is ever adduced, the charges remain at the level of generalities. The debate on the Hungarian constitution in the European Parliament illustrated this vividly (see the blog entry for 13 June).

Nevertheless the reference to these EU principles is a recurring topos in the Western media (e.g. the leaders in Le Monde, 17 July and in the FinancialTimes, 4 August, the latter by subscription only). So, at the same time, is the reliance on the principle of member state national interest as something that can override EU interests. In other words, the universality of EU principles, of solidarity towards one’s EU partners and concern with their domestic developments goes only so far. There is, therefore, a radical disjunction at the heart of the EU (again, to my personal regret). Either EU principles apply with equal force to all or each member state can pursue the national interest as it sees fit – the latter seems to be gathering strength. But if that is, indeed, the case, then Western condemnations of the Fidesz government’s alleged breaches of democratic principles – and these are only unsubstantiated allegations – fall into the gap.

It would be interesting to examine the motives of the Western media in their repeated upbraiding of the Fidesz government. My guess is that, as ever in human affairs, these motives are mixed. First, the West likes to upbraid. It’s a simple matter of exercising discursive power. People who have power like to push other, weaker actors around. Never underestimate this feature of human behaviour. But obviously there is more to it than the Western media revelling in their superior discursive power.

Some of the explanation, at a guess, is a certain sense of unease or guilt that as Germany or France or the UK stress their national interest ever harder regardless of the concerns of other EU member states (e.g. Nord Stream), there is still a certain implicit sense that thereby these states are not playing fair by their Central European EU partners. What better way to suppress one’s guilty conscience than finding a scapegoat? That after all is what a scapegoat is for, to bear the collective burden. And the scapegoat of the year is – Hungary!

In many ways, Hungary is an ideal candidate. A centre-right government in a small country not only had the temerity to win a two-thirds majority, but is actually implementing a far-reaching reform programme. This is intolerable ideological insolence in the eyes of the left-leaning media. Besides, the aforementioned penumbra is forever rushing to the aforementioned Western journalists with ever more terrifying tales of Orbán’s alleged depredations. And here, of course, the far greater discursive power of the West as against that of Hungary really does begin to count.

What these Western scapegoaters wholly fail to understand is that the more they criticise Fidesz and Orbán and the more they vent their guilt driven frustrations, the more they strengthen support on the part of Hungarian society for the government and at the same time weaken the already feeble links between Hungarian opinion and the left-wing intellectuals, their primary source of information. It adds up to a well established mechanism, to a functioning social and cultural institution, and regrettably one that does no favours to the reputation of the West in Hungary. Hungarian readers will know the word kurucosodás, a turning inwards, a rejection of the outside world. There is little doubt in my mind that this phenomenon is on the rise. Again, I regret this personally.

Yet another inconsistency is to be found in the Western media’s differential treatment of Fidesz and the left-wing opposition. If the former, seemingly, can do nothing right, the left can do no wrong. Last month the left-environmentalist party, the LMP, floated an idea (here is the link, in Hungarian) that is so bizarre politically that journalists should have jumped on the story with a will. In brief, the LMP suggested a tactical electoral alliance with the socialists and with Jobbik, yes, Jobbik, the party that the left denounces with some justification as fascist, racist, xenophobic and anti-Semitic.

The purpose of the proposed alliance was that the three opposition parties would form an electoral alliance in 2014, to the extent of supporting one another’s candidates, thereby acquire a two-thirds majority in the new parliament and reverse the Fidesz reforms. Quite apart from being a measure of the left’s desperation, this proposal, which was rapidly rejected by both the socialists and Jobbik, completely delegitimates those who put it forward.

I would have thought that this initiative would have tickled the palates of the Western media which seemingly love its obsession with Hungary, but no, the event passed them by. This is hardly surprising, the Western media can scarcely be expected to criticise their political allies, even when these allies, the LMP, do something that they would find utterly scandalous at home. If that’s not a double standard, I don’t know what is.

There is one final point that can be identified in this context. Upon what does a democratic government’s legitimacy rest, the society in which it was elected or its external critics? The answer is self-evident, apodictic even, yet none of the Western critics of Hungary seems be aware of it. The Fidesz-KDNP government is accountable to the voters of Hungary and not to foreign journalists. Indeed, the self-same foreign journalists would be appalled if their governments were to be made accountable to, say, the Hungarian media. They would regard that proposition as extreme ideological insolence, with quite some justification. Which only goes to prove that consistency is hard taskmaster.

Sch.Gy

Redistribution and its travails

The effects of industrialisation, rapid urbanisation and the rise of an impoverished urban proletariat in the 19th century demonstrated that market outcomes generally produce inequality, which can become hereditary and thereby become the breeding ground for radical egalitarian movements – Marxism being the most obvious. This provided a powerful incentive to upgrade the role of the state as preemptive redistributor.

Against this background, we can identify the emergence of the redistributive state - one of the defining features of the modern welfare system. The way in which this function was carried to its extreme by Soviet-type systems illuminates the dos and don’ts of redistribution. But democratic states have also taken on functions in the regulation of society that are far more intrusive than was regarded as compatible with 19th century ideas of individual liberty. The 20th century evolution of civil society, lobbies, pressure groups, advocacy bodies, NGOs and the like can operate as a countervailing force, but only to some extent. Ultimate power resides in the state and with those who run it, except that the exercise of ultimate power is exceedingly rare - overwhelmingly it arises in a state of emergency or warfare.

The state as rational redistributor arguably has its origins in Hegel’s idealised concept of the state. The difficulty lies, however, in the very assumption that the state is the supreme embodiment of rationality, that all states are alike in this regard and that there is such a thing as a hyper-efficient state administration that has no interests of its own. This is a Platonic concept that ignores the sociological reality that all institutions develop interests of their own at variance with their ostensible purpose, in the course of which the maximisation power by the state bureaucracy evolves almost invariably. Platonic bureaucrats are an unknown genus. The constant striving by bureaucracies to establish their autonomy over society is the norm.

So contemporary developed societies are stuck with an imperfect state machinery that resists attempts to curb its power. All this greatly muddies the role of the state as rational redistributor, which at the end of the day is one of the chief sources of state power legitimacy and is a central area of politics. The problem of how, how far and with what aim the state should redistribute, should it target equality of outcomes or of opportunity become central to politics, together with the constraints on freedom and the levelling down that can occur. These can produce social dissatisfaction, just as market inequality does. The state is not an ideal arbiter of fairness, but there is no other.

One can conceptualise improvements to the functioning of the state by, say, promoting a public service ethos, that insists on high levels of trust and incorruptibility. This becomes vital where policing the sensitive boundary between the public and private is concerned, for this interface is particularly vulnerable to corruption. Public money may be the taxpayer’s, but it is also impersonal and the potential for abuse is limitless.

But the problem does not end there, however. Society has to accept that its money – the resources, the raw material that is redistributed – goes to those whom they recognise and accept as legitimate beneficiaries (and this where this post ties in with “The Revolt of the Rich”, 4 August). Who decides on the identity of the beneficiaries? Politicians, bureaucrats and, for that matter, opinion leaders have tended rather to neglect this issue or have rather taken it for granted. Should redistribution be restricted only to taxpayers, only to citizens, or only to members of the community of cultural intimacy, because these last are the people whom we trust and regard as “deserving”?

The definition of the community of cultural intimacy then becomes pivotal. Habermas’s constitutional patriotism (Verfassungspatriotismus) has never been sufficient to function as a cement for the increasingly diversely made-up societies of today, above all because the citizenship that is derived from it is “cold”, it lacks the underpinning of affect generated by shared symbolics and a shared past. And those who do not share in these, but are “only” law abiding taxpayers may not be accepted as equal members with equal entitlement, especially if they demonstrate that their loyalties are partly external to that community.

Hence large numbers of immigrants can erode these criteria of cultural intimacy and trust, because the stranger in our midst remains a stranger. Maybe this should not be the case, but that’s just confusing the sein and the sollen, normative with the substantive. And when trust in the state declines, and this has been palpable throughout Europe for decades, then other instruments like transparency and accountability are demanded and that initiates a competitive stance between state and society. That in turn intensifies the “cold” qualities of the state-society relationship, and the latter’s reluctance to accept more redistribution is strengthened.

One way out if this is to withdraw the state from redistribution as far as it can be done and to let the market take over. The trouble with that, as we can see from the experience of the states that have tried it, is that the outcome is a devastating inequality*, as in the UK and the US, which then further weakens the bond between society and state, because the state has withdrawn from its role as the arbiter of fairness. It hardly needs to be added that the market functions very badly as a primary distributor by any set of criteria that take equality seriously, whether that is the equality of citizenship, equality before the law, equality of voice, equality of risk assumption or equality of material benefit.

So we are left with the old dilemmas of the state and the politics of redistribution as evolved in the last century or so. This moderate and circumscribed role for the state is probably the least bad option.

Sch. Gy.

Reference

* Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett, The Spirit Level: Why Equality is better for Everyone (London: Penguin, 2009).

A new “revolt of the rich”?

Back in the 1970s when journalists and others were looking for an explanation for the upsurge of national minority activism, the phrase “revolt of the rich” was coined. In sum, it was supposed to provide insight into why better off regions wanted greater autonomy from the centre or, it may be, independence. It was always somewhat suspect since some of these autonomy movements were characterised as the response to internal colonialism, albeit in the material sense, as the transfer of resources from the poorer to better off parts of the country, but this evident contradiction never troubled those who were looking for economic explanations for non-economic phenomena. Slovenia, Flanders, Catalonia, the Basque Country were placed in the first category; Wales, Scotland, Brittany were in the second. What few wanted to admit was that those behind these autonomy movements might actually have wanted more power for political and cultural reasons.

Never mind. It may be that one, and only one, of the explanations for the manifest reluctance of the wealthier, less indebted northern tier of the EU is their clearly expressed opposition to the EU being or becoming a “transfer union”. Actually, from the outset the EU was about transfers from the better off to the poorer regions of the Union. These subsidies were carefully policed and while they resulted in the excesses of the Common Agricultural Policy (“butter mountains”, “wine lakes”), they were also successful in ensuring that the surplus agricultural population of some regions would be integrated into the market as fully equal citizens, in overall sociological terms at least.

The pattern emerging today is somewhat different, but certainly deserves the description of a “revolt of the rich”. In sum, public opinion in the wealthier north European members of the EU is saying that they have no obligation to help the poorer (and arguably more profligate) member states of the south. In other words, there is no commonality – no solidarity –  that could form the basis of such transfers. It is not our affair, they are saying, there is no question of nostra causa agitur.

This is a singularly knotty problem. Within the bounds of the state, such transfers take place constantly. German opinion, which is so opposed to transfers to Greece, readily accepts the redistributive mechanism that keeps indigent Länder like Bremen afloat, but will not accept this for Germany’s EU partners. And Germans are not alone, of course; the net contributors to the EU budget are united in their efforts to cut these contributions.

Note that the transferred funds do not solely benefit the recipients. Infrastructure investment in the poorer EU states, Hungary included, results in better market conditions and the net contributors are not exactly tardy in taking advantage – look at the spread of Western-owned hypermarkets in the former communist world, for one. They certainly do well out of better roads, by way of example. Not all the money has been spent wisely, true. While the corruption, profligacy and waste argument has some traction, there is something deeper at work here and this has to be the problem of whether there is such thing at all as EU solidarity beyond the elites and if not, why not.

My sense of it is that in the early years in the much smaller predecessor of the EU, elites were able to take societies with them in the European endeavour, but somewhere along the line, this ceased or was abandoned or was overtaken. Certainly, in the last few years – definitely during the seven-plus years that I have been in Brussels – there has been a palpable intensification of national sentiment, lightly disguised as the “national interest”. The United Kingdom has been at the forefront of this, but others have followed. What has been lost above all is a sense of an overall European interest that would transcend the national and provide a legitimate basis for Europe-wide redistribution.

The whole process of European integration was designed to ensure that there would be no irresoluble conflicts within Europe and the economic development of poorer states and poorer regions was an important, though not the only, contributory factor. If we are to take the single market concept seriously, then the relative strength of different market actors has to be a part of that concept; transfers are a step in that direction of empowerment.

The deeper problem of how to make redistribution acceptable is, then, both a Europe-wide and a member state problem and if it is not addressed, the rich could readily construct narratives to block further transfers and to do this domestically, not just internationally. And that could have repercussions for the domestic cohesion of states. The Barnett formula, on the basis of which England subsidises Scotland, is already the target of questioning. The Lega Nord in Italy builds support on similar grounds, that of subsidising the south. Catalonia grumbles at having to subsidise other parts of Spain. And so on. Aid to the Third World is broadly argued on grounds of obligation by the wealthy West to the poor south, but what if the revolt of the rich is extended to these transfers too? The same argument of waste, corruption and profligacy can be and has been made with respect to Africa. But does the German taxpayer owe more to Africa than to Greece and if yes, what does EU membership mean?

The fundamental question, then, would appear to be this: the modern European nation state generated sufficient social, cultural and political cohesion, with a commitment to equality among citizens and members of the nation, to provide a basis for substantial redistribution. This cohesion is not there in the European context and, it would seem, the remaining economic and political arguments in favour of such redistribution are too weak to sustain it. This augurs badly for Europe, not only in the cultural sense, but in terms of security and conflict resolution.

If national egoism – sorry, the national interest - is on the rise, then friction between different nation states is bound to intensify. What are the European elites to do in this new situation? And what, actually, are they doing? In this connection, the current concentration on the right-extremist danger as the source of opposition to transfers really does confuse symptom with cause. The core of the problem is to be found elsewhere, in the decline of a commitment to a European ideal, the failure to identify and remedy this and in the growing reluctance on the part of member state elites to make the case for Europe.

Sch. Gy.

Norges skrik - Döbbenet a “safe and secure” Norvégiában

Edvard Munch: Skrik (1893)

A norvégok, akiknél a választás nemhogy demokratikus, de zavarba ejtően az, hiszen még csak nem is pártlistákra szavaznak, hanem összevissza lehet a listákon belül is sorrendet meghatározni. Arra szavazol akire szeretnél – mondják összefoglalóan. Nincs magázás sem a norvégban, nemes egyszerűséggel kihalt, hiszen mindenki egyenlő, a természet rendje szerint. Amúgyis a természet sokkal nagyobb szerepet játszik a norvégok életében, mint más népeknél. Ők együtt élnek a természettel. Amíg mások biztonságos menedéket keresnek nagy viharban, ők kimennek a házakból és “egyesülnek Természet Anyánkkal”.

Orbán Viktor nemrégiben Norvégiában járt, akkor azt mondta, hogy a magyarok mindig is irigyelték Norvégiát, mert "mi is szeretnénk ilyen nyugodt, kiegyensúlyozott és jómódú viszonyok között élni". A „nyugodt és kiegyensúlyozott” a felszín. Norvégia egyáltalán nem ilyen egységes „béke (fél) szigete”. Egyáltalán mi az, hogy Norvégia? Nem kezdek történelmi fejtegetésekbe, azt az interneten is meg lehet találni. Az átlag norvég fejben (ami persze nincs) van Osló (ejtsd uszlu) a világváros, egyesek szerint itt élnek norvégok is és van a többi Norvégia, ahol külön világot képez Bergen (regnáló nagykövet erősítette ezt meg, hogy az nem is Norvégia része!). És persze a számik (lappok) is külön területet hasítanak ki Norvégiából. A nemzet fogalma így érdekessé válhat (vö. a soknemzetiségű Kanada, ahol Ottawát mint a nemzet fővárosát emlegetik!). Így akarják a kanadaiak. A norvégok pedig inkább elhatárolódnak, amint írtam, még önmaguktól is. A hatvanas évek gazdasági nehézségben is megedződött vagy inkább meggyötört norvég lélek visszavágott a mára lesajnálttá vált svédeknek a második világháborúért (a németek ellenállás nélkül vonatozhattak át Svédországon, hogy ’Quisling Norvégiáját’ bekebelezzék). Mára gazdagabbak és nem élnek "rabigában", azaz elhatárolódtak az EU-tól.

Az elhatárolódás azonban nem csak politikai, hanem kulturális, és „emlékezeti” is. Mintha nem is lenne Norvégia Európa része. Egyetemet végzett barátom a Nagy Francia Forradalmat a XIV. századra tippelte, NATO-katona barátja pedig Ibsent egy hajónak vélte (szolgált is rajta). De az eggyel idősebb generációnál sem tapasztaltam túl sok hajlandóságot a többi-Európa megismerésére, Alain Delonról például még csak nem is hallottak. Az európai identitás helyett inkább a „mi vikingek” az, amit gyakrabban hallottam.

Egy 32 éves nordikus alkatú férfit letartóztattak - szóltak a következő híradások. Furcsa ez a „nordikus”, mert olyan nem nagyon van. A norvégok túlnyomóan barnák, a svédek azok, akik inkább szőkék. Tehát nem annyira közülük valónak néz ki. A férfi a hasonlókorú norvég férfiakhoz képest zavarba ejtően művelt és világlátott. Ez sem könnyíti meg a vele való azonosulást.

A hivatalos norvég politika befogadó és elfogadó. Beszédes példa erre, hogy kétféle dialektust is elfogadnak mind írásban mind szóban (bokmål és nynorsk) és így magát az az ország nevét is kétféleképpen is lehet mondani/írni (Norge és Noreg) Az egyik legfontosabb szimbólumot, a zászlót is kétféleképpen lobogtatni (180 fokkal elforgatva). Ugyanakkor ha megnézzük az Alkotmányát, szigorúbb mint a magyar, vallási tekintetben mindenképpen, hiszen kimondja, hogy Norvégiában államvallás van. Ha ezt nagyon komolyan vennék, akkor a bevándorló másvallásúak igen kellemetlenül érezhetnék magukat. Ez a kettősség feszíti a norvég társadalmat, és ez a látszólag csupán egy őrült tette végre arra indíthatja el a közgondolkodást, hogy a kérdést feldolgozzák, de legalább tematizálják.

Hogy mennyire fog ez a véres péntek a fejekben paradigmaváltást okozni, az még nem látható. Lehetséges, hogy egy elszigetelt jelenségnek tartják majd, hiszen könnyebb a béke és biztonság paradigmánál maradni. A multietnicitás és multikulturálitás problémája pedig igazából főként Oslót érinti (egyelőre).

Breivik magányos farkasnak látszik. Őrültek mindenhol vannak, gondolhatnánk, de amíg nem göngyölítik fel a teljes akciót, addig a külső szemlélő számára Norvégia elhatárolódott az európai identitástól és értékektől.

Cs. E.

Friedman’s World

George Friedman’s view of the world* is a bleak one. One of the foremost writers on geostrategy of our time, his basic assumption is that states (he would call them “nations”, of course, because he accepts the usual and misleading Anglo-Saxon notion that they are one and the same) are motivated exclusively by the exercise of power in the national interest. Yes, there is a moral dimension to the exercise of power, he argues, indeed there must be one if it is to be accepted as legitimate, but this concerns only the society of the state that does the exercising, the US in this case. In other words, other states will be assessed by the sole criterion of do their policies serve the interests of the US or not.

Friedman’s starting point is that the US is responsible for about a quarter of the world’s GDP, hence it cannot retreat from global involvement, but its active participation should be about ensuring that no other power can emerge to challenge US’s primacy – I think this is the best word, though there is no hint of primus inter pares – meaning US foreign policy should be aimed at ensuring that no regional hegemon should be strong enough to cause the US a problem. The possibility that other states might be disturbed by the rise of a regional great power is not a part of this calculation. Thus the growing anxiety by China’s neighbours that in its own sphere of interest, Peking (there is no PC “Beijing” on this blog) is impinging their interests, disturbs Friedman not at all. These examples could be multiplied.

This studious ignoring of the interests of states other than the US is, to my mind, a serious flaw in Friedman’s otherwise fascinating analysis, above all because he excludes the possibility of an anti-US coalition being brought into being. The flaw arises because the number of non-Western states with agency, and the capacity to inhibit the will of the US, is increasing. This applies not only to the BRICs, but equally to Mexico, Indonesia, South Korea, Turkey and, maybe, South Africa. If some of these states were to conclude that some kind of an arrangement to stop or hinder some US initiative were in their collective interest, then the US would be in trouble. It would have to expend a good deal of cultural capital and soft power – buying them off, in other words – with the aim of breaking up such an ad hoc coalition. The US is not the only state in the world that could build a coalition of the willing, especially now that George Bush II has set the precedent.

Having said all this, there are two case studies in Friedman’s book that deserve further attention. The section on the Middle East was written well before the “Arab spring” and, it might well be argued, that one of Friedman’s methodological weaknesses is that he appears to be wholly unaware of the Black Swan concept (as elaborated by Nassim Taleb**). The result is that the unexpected, unpredictable and irreversible random event plays no role in Friedman’s analysis and is the weaker for it, because he relies on linear processes. Complexity theory is, then, not a part of his intellectual arsenal.

Still, the Middle East. In sum, the argument is that the primary US interest in the region is to secure the flow of oil through the Strait of Hormuz, which Iran could block. In the past, Iran was inhibited by the power of the Saudis and Iraq, but GWB destroyed this, in effect making Iraq an Iranian satellite, unless the US stays there militarily, which it won’t. Hence the US must do a deal with Teheran, whatever the Saudis and Israel may say. Given the assumption, the conclusion is logical and, indeed, quite plausible. A partial disengagement from Israel is part and parcel of this strategy; this would generate a good deal of noise in Washington, but the US would ignore this.

The second intriguing assessment concerns Europe. Friedman sees the EU as lacking any serious political cohesion – it’s hard to disagree with him on this – and, indeed, the divisibility of the EU was made manifest in 2003, when “Old Europe” and “New Europe” were identified along the lines of readiness to support the US over the invasion of Iraq or not. The splitting of Europe on this issue has had long term consequences. Arguably, though this is more my argument than Friedman’s, this division gravely weakened the previously very strong US-German relationship and contributed materially to a much stronger autonomous German foreign policy, cf. the way in which Germany was traumatised by the all-azimuths criticism it received for the recognition of Croatia and Slovenia a decade earlier.

The dividing of Europe by the US was evidently just such a gambit that Friedman accepts by the criterion of the US’s national interest, despite the longer term consequences which have been playing themselves out in the last decade. Germany then initiated/ a much more clearly delineated policy of engaging with Russia, in which energy was probably the primary motivating factor, but a distrust of the US was obviously also present in the background. In a word, Germany was placing its national interest above that of its relationship with the US and EU solidarity as well. How Russia has dealt with this development, however, is not a part of Friedman’s assessment, yet should certainly have formed a part of it; after all, if the US can seek to shift the balance of power to its advantage, so can Russia.

Friedman recognises this German-Russian engagement grounded in energy and technology transfers and concludes that the Berlin-Moscow relationship is beginning to emerge as a serious power threat to the US, especially if Berlin pulls France along with it.  This topos is, of course, familiar to any student of geostrategy, it comes straight from Halford Mackinder’s heartland theory. Such a development would seriously disturb the balance of power in Europe, a pro-US balance of course, and leads Friedman to urge a pro-Polish build-up, including military support, as a counterweight. Romania and Hungary would be adjuncts to this strategy, with possibly the Baltic states being included as well. This overall assessment of Europe does sound convincing in the light of what has been happening in the last few years, but possibly underestimates the German interest in sustaining a still viable EU***.

Finally, a few thoughts on where this leaves Hungary. I should add here that Friedman was born in Hungary after the war, but as far as I can make out, this does not influence his mindset, and why should it, anyway? That small states have fewer choices is the base line for Hungarian foreign policy and these countries have to find themselves allies and patrons to ensure the security of their national interests - hence the importance of security architecture like the EU and NATO. Thus if the large states of Western Europe have begun to dilute their commitment to these institutions, Hungary must find alternatives. A strong relationship with the US is self-evidently important, but if Friedman’s assumption of how the US deals with its (small) allies is accurate, then that will not be enough. Hence the orientation towards Poland and Romania acquires a particular significance, especially as these states share many of Hungary’s concerns, like energy security. This is the strategic line that the Fidesz government has been pursuing and, who knows, Friedman might even approve.

Sch. Gy

References

* George Friedman, The Next Decade: Where We’ve Been … and … Where We’re Going (Doubleday, 2011) ISBN 9780385532945

** Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Black Swan: the Impact of the Highly Improbable, 2nd edition (Random House, 2010)

ISBN: 081297381X

*** ECFR, What does Germany Think About Europe, http://www.ecfr.eu/content/entry/what_does_germany_think_about_europe (downloaded 25 July 2011)

 

Délvidéki história

Újabb tizenötperces hírnév: elfogták az utolsó még bújkáló szerb háborús bűnöst Goran Hadzsicot. És ismételten nem érdektelen a helyszín. Az üzenet, ami a hírekben néma marad, pedig magáért beszél: Fruška Gora hegység, Krušedol környéke. Igen, megint a Vajdaság, de ezúttal a Szerémségben járunk. Abban a Szerémségben, aminek nyugati felét jelenleg Horvátország (horvátul Srijem) keleti felét pedig Szerbia birtokolja (szerbül Срем / Srem). Bár 2006-ban már Nenad Čanak, tudni vélte, hogy Hadzsic a Tarcal-hegység egyik monostorában bújkál, a szerb hatóságok csak 2011. július 20-án fogták el. És a szerb ortodox egyház rögtön tagadja, hogy segítette volna a szökésben.

De lépjünk vissza egy kicsit a történelemben, hogy megértsük Fruška Gorat, Krušedolt, a hely szellemét, a szerbek üzenetét, ahol természetesen van magyar szál is.

És akkor rögtön a név. Fruška Gora magyarul Tarcal-hegység, Köleshegynek is nevezik. A vajdasági alföldi szterotíp tájképet a Tarcal-hegység töri meg lágy lankáival és inkább a Dunántúlra emlékeztet, szőlőtermő, bortermelő vidéke pedig a rómaiak számára is ismert volt (Sirmium néven). Sőt, a vidék borai később királyi asztalokra kerültek.

Az 1420-as években a huszitizmus fellegvára lett a hegység és Zsigmond, a luxembourgi, Marchiali Jakab ferences szerzetest küldi ellenük, aki tűzzel-vassal irtja az eretnekeket és vezényli őket máglyára. A fanatikus inkvizitor jó munkát végzett, sikeres volt a térítés: 25 000 ember a mérleg, akit nem végeztek ki, az Moldvába menekült. Ez volt az első tudatos pusztítása a magyar lakosságnak, igaz, vallási köntösbe csomagolva, Nemeskürty szavaival élve a legelső magyar Atlantiszra került sor. Ekkortól válik a Szerémség a szerbség (később a horvátság) számára eszmei-etnikai-vallási bázissá, északi irányba kiröptető bölcsővé. A több hullámban betelpült magyarok pedig jobb esetben szorványként maradhattak meg Maradékon is (ez a falu neve!), amolyan délvidéki csángó sors köszönt vissza.

Az Ottomán területek térképe

A Szerémség 1764-ben Fiúméért cserében került Horvátországhoz. A Tarcal-hegységben a 18. századig 15 ortodox kolsotor épült (Beocin, Vrdnik, Rakovac, Krusedol, Hopovo, Remete, Görgeteg), sőt 1848-ban Karlóca (Sremski Karlovci) szerb mozgalmi központ lett, szintén itt található az 1791-ben alapított gimnázium, ami Szerbia első közoktatási intézménye, ahol a szerb történelem meghatározó figurái tanultak, és a Szerémségben található legrégebbi szerb olvasókör is. A szerbség számára szent hely ez, szerb Szent Hegynek is hívják.

A Krušedol kolostort alapító Brankovic (Stevan, Makszim és Jovan szentek lettek) és az Obrenovic család itt nyugszik, ahogy III. Arsenije Carnojevic is, aki a szerb népet vezette Koszovó és Metohiából észak felé, a török hódítók elől menekülve. Sőt Milutin király köntöse és Nagy Péter orosz cár (egyik) lepedőjét is itt őrzik ereklyeként. Illetve Djordje Petrovic, a törökök elleni felkelés vezetője is itt élt.

Tehát tényleg itt sűrűsödik az egész szerb történelem és ortodoxia, mely alapvetően a török-és magyar elnyomók elleni küzdelmet jelenti. 

Érdekes, hogy 2009-ben Közép-Európa állam-és kormányfői Újvidéken megtartott csúcsértekezletének alkalmából ellátogattak Krušedolba és Karlócára is, ahol megtekintették a béke kápolnáját, melyet 1817-ben építettek azon a helyen, ahol 1699. január 16-án, aláírták a békeszerződést az ottomán birodalom valamint Ausztria és szövetségesei között.

2011. nyarán pedig itt fogják el az utolsó háborús bűnöst, a szerbek szent helyén. Itt bújkált Hadzic a szimbolikus szent helyen, de kiderült, a horvátországi szerb nem részese a szerb szent történelemnek. Legalábbis a jelenlegi szerb vezetés számára nem.

kng

Új Hungaricum

Büszkék lehetünk magunkra. Egy új politikai fogalommal, ill. gyakorlattal gazdagítjuk a politikatudományt: a sztrájkoló ellenzék mindeddig ismeretlen volt a demokráciát elemző szakirodalomban. Mondhatni, hogy képviselőkre azért szavaznak, hogy – micsoda meglepetés – képviseljék a rájuk szavazó polgárok érdekeit, de a baloldali magyar ellenzék ezt jobban tudja, mint a szakirodalom.

Az ellenzéki sztrájk azt üzeni, hogy mi, mármint a magyar ellenzék, nem fogadjuk el a kormány többségét, és ha a kormány saját többségének tudatában cselekszik, sőt kormányoz, akkor nem ér az ellenzék neve. Kivonul. Elmegy vidékre, ahol mintegy száműzött ellenképviseletet alakít. Ezt politikai színháznak is nevezhetjük, csak hogy nehéz megállapítani: ki itt a nézőközönség, ill. mi a kivonulás üzenete magán a kivonuláson kívül. Lehet, hogy McLuhannak megint igaza van: the medium is the message.

Mindenesetre a kivonulás jelentését többféleképpen lehet értelmezni. Tudom, hogy itt hermeneutikailag ingoványos területen járunk, azonban az ellenzéki sztrájk ténye elbír egy ilyesfajta értelmezést: nevezetesen, hogy a magyar ellenzék úgy cselekszik, mintha nem függene saját szavazóitól, a megválasztás ténye után semmivel sem tartozna a társadalomnak és a politikai rendszernek, mert ha nem a baloldal van hatalmon, akkor Magyarországon demokrácia sincsen, mivel a demokrácia – így a baloldal – csak és kizárólag baloldali lehet. Egy szabadon lebegő ellenzék? Vajon mit szólna ehhez Mannheim?

Tehát ha egy jobboldali kormány van hatalmon, akkor ez eleve illegitim, diktatórikus, sőt valójában az is elképzelhetetlen a baloldal számára, hogy a magyar szavazók hogyan követhettek el ilyesmit, ekkora tévedést. Innen már csak egy rövid lépés az egészet letagadni, esetleg Brecht szavaival élve, azt kinyilvánítani, hogy a magyar nép nem érdemli meg a baloldalt, így a népet fel kell oszlatni és egy újat kell választani.

Azok számára, akik a verset nem ismerik:

Wäre es da

Nicht doch einfacher, die Regierung

Löste das Volk auf und

Wählte ein anderes?

Innen nézve, kár hogy nem a 1953-as NDK-ban élünk. Igaz még ott sem sikerült a népet feloszlatni.

Az is lehetséges, hogy ebben a helyzetben jobb magyarázatot kapunk a kultúrantropológiából, pontosabban a liminalitás fogalmából: az ellenzék kilépett a régiből és egy köztes állapotban várja, hogy megérkezzen az új. Az “új” ez esetben a magyar nép magához térése – megtérése? – lenne. Gyanítom, hogy van Gennep, a liminalitás megfogalmazója, nem pont a magyar baloldal helyzetére gondolt. Ki tudja, talán egy kis magyar abszurdnak vagyunk tanúi.

(Azért maradjunk észnél. Az ellenzéket nem száműzte senki, saját akaratából vállalja ezt az eléggé egyedülálló gyakorlatot.)

Sch. Gy.