13 October 2011
In The Chinese Revolution I wrote that China experienced its political revolution that severed its link to the feudal past before experiencing its industrial revolution, which is the reverse order of the events of modernization in the West. It is worth considering the significance of this in more detail.
For Marx himself the communist revolution was to come about through the revolt of exploited industrial workers, and this would obviously come about in the most industrialized regions of Europe. Not only did it not happen like this — much of the industrialized world pursued reform and forestalled revolution — but in actual fact the “revolutions” to come in Russia and China resembled civil wars more than sharp, sudden revolutionary expropriation of the expropriators, though one could call it “revolutionary civil war” and be finished with it.
For Lenin, who wanted to preside over a communist revolution in Russia, which was most definitely not the most industrialized region of Europe, the strict Marxist position wouldn’t do, so Lenin created the “weakest link” theory: the revolution would happen first in Russia because Russia was the weakest link in industrialized capitalism, and not because it was the most industrialized place on earth. Lenin also brought to full fruition the idea of a revolutionary cadre. This idea is present in Marx, but in Marx it is the industrialized workers who took action on their own account. Lenin placed the crucial work in the hands of the revolutionary cadres who would stir up the workers and work them up into a revolutionary fervor.
By the time we get to Mao in China, the original Marxist model doesn’t make any sense at all. China wasn’t at that time industrialized. There were virtually no industrial workers to organize. There were, however, rural masses to organize and stir up into revolutionary fervor, so Mao further tampered with the doctrine he inherited from Lenin, and created the idea of a revolutionary peasantry who would overthrow urban centers of power without bothering to pass through the stage of industrialization.
It was in this form, the Maoist form, that communism — no longer Marxism in any strict sense of the term — came to the third world and proved itself a central thread of the political drama of the twentieth century. For all over the world there were poor, disenfranchised, immiserated peasants, far from the centers of industrialized civilization, who could be armed and inspired to pursue their fair share of the world’s wealth, as they saw it.
Revolutionary insurrection by the poor and downtrodden is nothing new. I discussed some of the peasant revolutions of the European Middle Ages in Revolution: Ancient, Medieval, and Modern. The medieval period experienced repeated peasant rebellions, and some few of these cascaded into significant events, while most dissipated and came to nothing.
Imagine, if you will, that one of the medieval peasant revolutions had been successful, and a radical revolutionary regime had come to power in continental Europe at this point in history, during the Middle Ages. This would be a Western (counter-factual) parallel to the victory of the Chinese communists. Thinking of revolution from this perspective, one could even imagine a cultural revolution in a radicalized medieval Europe (once again, a counter-factual cultural revolution) to overcome entrenched feudal traditions. This makes a kind of sense, and makes the Cultural Revolution in China more comprehensible to a Westerner like myself.
The upheaval in Chinese society through the twentieth century — from 1911 revolution to 1949 communist takeover to the Cultural Revolution — can be understood as one long revolution, and perhaps the only political medicine of sufficient strength to serve as the trigger of historical discontinuity for an imperial tradition as distinguished, and therefore as entrenched, as that of China.
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12 October 2011
We do not hesitate to speak of the American Revolution or the French Revolution or the Russian Revolution as political events and punctuated the modern era, and we do not hesitate to speak of the Scientific Revolution or the Industrial Revolution or the Technological Revolution that have shaped, and continue to shape, the modern world, but the recent observance of the centenary of the Chinese Revolution of 1911 may have some people asking: What Chinese revolution?
To the credit of the Chinese Communist Party, they didn’t try to sweep the centennial under the rug, but openly celebrated it. The official media organ of the CCP, Xinhua News, carried several stories on the anniversary and its official celebration, including a speech by President Hu Jintao calling the revolution in 1911, “a thoroughly modern, national and democratic revolution.” A portrait of Dr. Sun Yat-sen was even erected in Tian’anmen Square for the centennial.
The official speeches, however, also included calls for Taiwan to be peacefully reunited with the rest of China. The CCP probably feels that they have proved that “One Country, Two Systems” is not only possible, but practically workable, though the example of Hong Kong has been a mixed bag. Hong Kong was always capitalist and always tolerant of free expression throughout the British lease, but it was never democratic. The attempt the put democratic institutions in place as the British lease was ending was well-intentioned but as artificial as many attempts at democratic social engineering. And on the Chinese side, while they have tolerated the open markets and open expression of Hong Kong, they have still tried to trim it around the edges, and, probably more important for the long term, are seeking to develop Shanghai into the banking center of east Asia, which constitutes a de facto demotion for Hong Kong.
Taiwan remains a thorn in the side of the CCP leadership. When Mao was consolidating the hold of the party over mainland China, he had to strike deals with ethnic minorities like the Uighers, and in the case of Taiwan he let sleeping dogs lie. There was enough on Mao’s plate that he couldn’t practically pursue a cross-straight invasion at that time. But the split between the communist Chinese mainland and the Republic of China on Taiwan played into the political division of the Cold War, and Taiwan became (not unlike Hong Kong) a bastion of capitalism and economic development in east Asia while Mao was busy destroying the Chinese economy through the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.
But the Chinese revolution remains historically important, and not only on Taiwan where the remnants of the Chinese Nationalists had to hole up when the communists under Mao seized control of the mainland. The imperial family had controlled China for two thousand years — almost as long as the entire record of Western Civilization from the Greeks to the present day. Unseating this dynasty abruptly and rudely brought China into the twentieth century, and this rude and rapid transition probably made the communist Machtergreifung possible.
The contrast with Japan is especially instructive. Japan seized not on the revolutionary tradition of the West, but the industrial tradition of the West, and rapidly transformed its society into an industrial power not long after Europe, parallel in time to North America, and long before the rest of Asia. There was no Japanese revolution, except for a Japanese industrial revolution that left Japanese traditional life in place, in so far as that remains possible within an industrialized society. And when Japan surrendered at the end of the Second World War, its unconditional surrender included the one condition that, whatever was to become of the occupation, the Emperor would remain.
And the Emperor remains to this day, whereas the Chinese have now a century of history under their belts without an Emperor. This is remarkable, and points to the dramatic changes in Chinese society — changes more dramatic than experienced in Japan during the course of its modernization and industrialization.
Indeed, the Chinese have experienced the shocks of modern history in the reverse order of their experience in the West. Europe was already more or less fully industrialized before the industrialized carnage of the First World War brought down the old order of society and the fall of most of Europe’s remaining imperial houses and their ties to the deep history of the European Middle Ages. In China, the political revolution came first, and only now are we seeing the industrialization of Chinese society.
China, like the West, has experienced (albeit in reverse order) the dual politico-economic revolutions that have issued in distinctively modern societies. Japan, in contrast, experienced only the economic revolution without the political revolution. And while Japan is now a functioning democracy, it is unlike other democratic systems in the world. And it is more than merely the retention of a royal family, which is an historical condition that Japan shares with Britain and the Netherlands, for example.
Contemporary strategists and sociologists have looked far and wide for an explanation of Japan’s arrested socio-political development, and why, when Japan seemed poised in the early 1980s to once again dominate a greater east Asian co-prosperity sphere, that this did not happen. Even the visionary Cold War thinker Herman Kahn failed to see Japan’s (at that time coming) “lost decade” (now “lost decades“), and in his last years wrote The Emerging Japanese Superstate: Challenge and Response.
To me, the answer to this riddle seems obvious: despite an overlay of democratic procedure, Japan’s society is still essentially feudal. Even in an apparently anonymous metropolis of the size of Osaka (where I have visited many times), everyone knows who comes from a Samurai class family, and everyone knows who comes from a Yakuza family. Japan’s socio-political evolution stalled, and while it enjoyed great economic development, it never experienced a traumatic political revolution that would have served the purpose of severing ties to the past and therefore opening the future to unprecedented developments. And now the window of opportunity has passed: Japan can’t very well have a revolution today.
China, of course, is no democracy — its path to modernity lies elsewhere — but unlike Japan it has severed itself from its feudal past, both socially and economically, and this bodes well for the Chinese ability to embrace a future of unprecedented developments, whatever they may be.
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7 September 2011
Libya borders six other North African nation-states: Egypt, Sudan, Chad, Niger, Algeria, and Tunisia. All of these nation-states have been in the news in recent months, and are sometimes delicately referred to as being “in turmoil.” Last February, in The Geography of Revolution, I suggested that since Libya is sandwiched between Tunisia and Egypt, both of which had recently overthrown their long-standing authoritarian heads of state, that the natural population transfers within these regions would, by idea diffusion, give currency to the real possibility of regime change through popular revolt. Libya was in fact the next domino to fall of the Arab Spring (now the Arab summer, and soon to be the Arab fall), and its geography must be counted among the factors that made this possible.
Libya’s geography has also made it possible for regime cronies to escape the country. Travel in the desert is less dependent on roads than elsewhere (which is what provided the perpetually open flank of the North African Western Desert campaign). If you have sufficient fuel and a vehicle that can cope with the desert, the Sahara is your friend. You can drive to any number of lonely crossing points in the desert and quietly disappear into another country.
In some cases these desert crossings were homecomings: Gaddafi had hired mercenaries from the ethnic Tuaregs, many of which he had trained in warfare in previous decades, and these Tuaregs made their way back, primarily to Niger, when they could. But the Tuaregs are nomadic desert people; they range throughout this part of the Sahara, and are represented in Algeria and Mali as well as Niger. There have been stories that ethnic Africans remaining in Tripoli after the departure of Gaddafi and his forces have been assumed to be mercenaries and have been treated accordingly by the rebels with predictable reprisals. However, many peoples of the region sought work in Libya. Libya is a petrol state, and Gaddafi used his oil largesse liberally to increase his stature in Africa, relentlessly promoting his vision of a United States of Africa.
Even as Tuareg Leaders in Niger and Mali Urge Tuareg in Libya to Work With NTC, it was reported that a convoys of dozens of vehicles with prominent Gaddafi regime figures, as well as “gold, euros and dollars,” have crossed into Niger (Libya conflict: Gaddafi aide Mansour Daw ‘in Niamey’). The Sahara desert, famous for its vast expanses of emptiness, is rapidly becoming an interesting place. In fact, the Sahara is likely to be the theater of coming conflicts: between the Libyan NTC and a presumptive Gaddafi-financed insurgency; between Islamists and secularists; between North African Arabs and subsaharan Africans; and even, or ultimately a three-way conflict between nomads, nation-states, and transnationalists.
Previously it had been reported that Gaddafi’s wife, Safia, daughter, Aisha, and two sons, Hannibal and Mohammed, had crossed into Algeria (Did Algeria flout U.N. sanctions by taking in the Qaddafis? and Libya conflict: Why did Algeria take the Gaddafis? by Aidan Lewis of BBC News). The diaspora of Gaddafi regime figures into surrounding nation-states — permission or no permission — is predictable. What is not predictable are the long term consequences of this Gaddafi diaspora. I have already read interestingly contrasting opinions in the media, some claiming the Gaddafi’s oil largesse distributed in Africa has won him enough friends that he will not want for shelter (Gaddafi: African asylum-seeker? by Farouk Chothia, BBC African Service; see also Libya conflict: Where could Muammar Gaddafi be hiding?), while other commentators have suggested that the government of Niger, elected only earlier this year in the wake of a coup, will want to safeguard its legitimacy by refusing sanctuary to Gaddafi sympathizers.
While the long term consequences cannot be predicted with any certainty, there are some things that can be said with certainty. Even if Gaddafi can’t get his country back, he can cause trouble for Libya and its new rulers. With gold and cash looted from the national treasury, he can fund an insurgency which can go on for quite some time. An insurgency that has been bought and paid for (unlike a popular insurgency) can continue as long as the money holds out, regardless of whether the movement has support. Such a strategy on the part of Gaddafi and his loyalists would destabilize Saharan Africa. Gaddafi could exploit existing tensions between Arabs and Africans and between nomads and settled peoples in an attempt to carve out an ongoing political niche for himself and his loyalists. Since the region is poor and their are few television cameras present, violence in the region may be unnoticed by global media assets. On the other hand, the fragile and unstable governments of the region, as interested in regime survival as any other political class, may decide that they cannot put up with this sort of thing, and they may use the same media invisibility to persuade Gaddafi’s dead-enders to take their fight elsewhere.
Another predictable consequence will be the steady realignment of the new government of Libya away from any governments perceived to have helped or supported Gaddafi and toward those that helped or supported the rebels. This is already happening. If the NTC is a template for the government to follow, these process will be consolidated in practical ways: oil contracts, trade relations, border security, and diplomatic missions. The parallel jockeying for influence in the Sahara by the Libyan NTC and the Gaddadi loyalists could sputter along for decades, or it could feed into the larger conflicts in the region mentioned above.
The most interesting theater of the Gaddafi diaspora will be Algeria. Algeria has a violent and revolutionary history. No sooner than the French were forced out, but an indigenous Islamic insurgency conducted a brutal and bloody civil war that is still little understood, little appreciated, and little documented (coming, as it did, prior to 11 September 2001). No sooner had the iron fist of President Abdelaziz Bouteflika defeated this Islamic insurgency, but another indigenous popular movement burst on the scene: the Arab Spring. Had Bouteflika ruled in earlier decades, or in world in which the Arab Spring never happened, he would have been seen as a leader to back who would be, if not friendly to western interests, at least not hostile. Under other circumstances, we would have been seen as a bulwark to prop up. Now we cannot count on the kind of support that is forthcoming to those perceived as holding back the tide of chaos, and he is weakened as a result.
President Bouteflika sits on a powder keg: the same idea diffusion that demonstrated the possibility of successful revolution to the Libyans will have penetrated Algeria. If the Gaddafis can cross the border, so can smugglers and job seekers and human traffickers and those who have families on both sides of the border. Stories will be told. Audiences will listen in rapt attention. And this falls on the fertile soil of Algeria’s revolutionary tradition. But then there is the Gaddafi family thrown into the mix: they will have money and some political resources to draw upon. They will perhaps seek to exercise influence through connections and wealth, even as the Algerian government seeks to isolate and silence them. In this contest, both parties and weakened, and both will fight as an injured animal fights for survival.
If I had been Bouteflika, I would have bent every effort to keep the Gaddafis and their sympathizers out of the country, and I would have done everything to appear to the international community as a responsible stakeholder in the region, enforcing law and order, but not so harshly as to appear oppressive. Now it is too late for that. The Gaddafis can make trouble for years to come, especially if their patriarch uses them as mouthpieces, and the Algerians themselves may yet overthrow Bouteflika in their own Arab Autumn.
As I hope I have shown from the above considerations, North and Central Africa are complex crossroads, made all the more complex by recent events. With all these forces in play, the Sahara Desert may become a periphery that decides the fate of the political centers of the region. The momentum of history, at least in Africa, has passed into the vast emptiness of the interior of the continent. This will be a theater to watch in coming years.
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Note added Sunday 25 September 2011: Gaddafi’s daughter Aisha, ostensibly allowed into Algeria for humanitarian reasons, has made a public statement that has been broadcast on Syrian television. (cf. Alive and well! Libyan leader Gaddafi continuing his fight for power insists daughter) This comes after the oasis Sabha has fallen to NTC forces, and as breaking news is reporting that NTC forces have entered Sirte. It is difficult to believe that either al-Assad or Bouteflika could be so stupid as to allow themselves to get drawn into a losing fight, and at a time when revolutions are sweeping autocrats from power. Thus one instinctively seeks for some other motive at work. I can’t guess what that might be. Grasping at straws, I can only suggest what I suggested in Libya’s Seat at the UN: that they are standing up for the “principle” of autocracy.
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24 July 2011
It now appears that the responsible party for the bombing and shootings in Norway was an individual, an ideologically motivated “Lone Wolf” who practiced meticulous care not only in planning his attacks, but also in documenting his planning and preparation that extended over a period of many years. While the sheer scale of the carnage makes it difficult to believe that a single individual could have perpetrated these attacks, this is now a lesson in how “successful” a lone wolf attack can be when everything “goes right” according to the perspective of the attacker.
After the Oklahoma City bombing it was reported that the truck bomb assembled by Timothy McVeigh had only incompletely exploded, so that despite the massive destruction it caused, this destruction would have been even worse had the bomb performed as planned. With this in mind, I would guess that the bomb assembled by Anders Behring Breivik was of a similar design, and also reportedly assembled from fertilizer, like the Oklahoma City bomb, and that the extraordinary destructive power of the blast was due to the bomb functioning as intended.
Breivik, however, killed far more people in his shooting rampage than he did with his bomb. I can’t recall an incident outside a war zone in which a single individual killed so many in a single shooting rampage. As with this bomb, Breivik’s meticulous planning and preparation, coupled with the vulnerability of individuals living in a highly open society, seems to have yielded the intended result. If we compare Breivik’s shooting rampage with that of the Columbine killers, for example, who had hoped to kill hundreds, Breivik’s massacre approached the scale of efficacy to which the Columbine killers has aspired, without themselves achieving that scale.
However, Breivik’s “success” on a tactical and operational level — if we define success as the identification of an explicit objective and taking offensive action in order to attain that objective, both of which were embodied in Breivik’s plans — is coupled with a complete and utter failure on a strategic level. In this Breivik is to be compared not with Timothy McVeigh, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold — other isolated, ideologically motivated killers — but to Al Qaeda.
Al Qaeda was highly successful on an operational level, repeatedly carrying out simultaneous attacks on an international scale, but its strategic agenda never even got off the ground. Because of the tactical and operational efficacy of Al Qaeda, they posed a genuine threat, and so major military operations were taken to counter their power and influence. From this, many drew the conclusion that Al Qaeda had achieved its ends through its spectacular acts of terrorism. It had not. The terrorism was not an end in itself, but had an objective.
The strategic agenda of Al Qaeda was, narrowly conceived, to topple the Saudi government and to put in its place a militant Salafist regime in some respects modeled on the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, but ultimately modeled on the first community established by the Prophet himself in Medina (to which example the Taliban also looked). The grand strategic ambition of Al Qaeda, on the widest scale, was to trigger cascading revolutions throughout the Islamic world that would topple governments throughout the region, installing traditionalist regimes and ultimately the re-establishment of the Caliphate and the re-invigoration of the Islamic world.
Thus while Al Qaeda’s spectacular acts of terrorism were effective on a tactical and operational level, they were strategic failures, and, I would argue, utterly misconceived as the operations that would bring about the desired revolutionary contagion and the regime change desired. In fact, a very different revolutionary contagion did come to the region, though it was not based upon the ideological model of Al Qaeda, and the regime changes that have occurred as a result of this revolutionary contagion have not installed retrograde traditionalist regimes seeking to turn back the clock, but rather progressive regimes seeking to join the modern world.
What Al Qaeda and Anders Behring Breivik have in common is that they are ideologically-inspired violent revolutionaries. They are believers in revolutionary violence, and moreover believers that they can serve as the trigger for a wave of cascading revolutionary violence that will transform the political and social landscape. This mode of thought embodies what I have called a cataclysmic conception of revolution.
Another obvious point of reference here is Theodore Kaczynski, the unabomber, who also viewed himself as a one-man cadre whose actions would trigger a revolution, and indeed it was widely reported today that Anders Behring Breivik’s manifesto included extensive extracts from Kaczynski’s manifesto, Industrial Society and its Future.
Since Anders Behring Breivik is alive and in custody, he may well provide the most thorough and complete picture of the violent revolutionary yet. Mostly the violent revolutionary accepts his death as the price of triggering a world-historical event. The death of violent revolutionaries itself serves an integral function in revolutionary violence, since a surviving revolutionary lives to see the failure of his cause and his careful plans and preparations come to nothing. A violent revolutionary whose death is written in to the histrionic scheme of his plot to trigger cascading revolutionary contagion can go to his death believing that, with his triggering action, the revolution has already begun, and it is merely a matter of the remaining events unfolding according to the ideological script.
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4 July 2011
It is time again to celebrate the revolutionary armed struggle of the American people. The Fourth of July marks the formal beginning of this revolutionary struggle, as it was on this date that the American revolutionaries made their intentions explicit in a Declaration of Independence, which reads, in part:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”
Thus our revolutionary forebears sought “to alter or to abolish” the only political rule they had ever known, preferring the uncertainly of regime change to government “long established.”
How does a revolutionary cadre go about fomenting revolutionary change? The cadre in the vanguard of radical political change may turn to revolutionary violence. A revolutionary war is the formalization of revolutionary violence, and it was to this expedient that the signatories of the Declaration of Independence turned.
A revolutionary war is a distinct kind of struggle. Reflecting on this today I realized that a revolutionary struggle typically takes the course of completely inverting the gradients of warfare as they are now (loosely) defined, so that the revolutionary gradient begins with contextual warfare (5GW), moves on to moral warfare (4GW), which eventually breaks out into open hostilities in maneuver warfare (3GW). After the initial hostilities of open warfare the struggle settles into attrition warfare (2GW), and as the position of one side or the other is consolidated the struggle becomes cooperative warfare (1GW) based on formal political alliances.
That a revolutionary war is an inversion of the temporal order of the generational conception of warfare, which latter was later refined into the gradient conception of warfare, minus the explicit temporal ordering, tells us much about the modern world, which has been largely forged by revolutionary struggles. In Revolution, Genocide, Terror I argued that these three species of violence are the hallmarks of political modernity.
In short, the modern world, shaped as it is by revolution, is what Nietzsche called a transvaluation of all values, and it is moreover a transvaluation that takes the form of inverting the all preceding values, transforming even the values of armed conflict. Another word for transvaluation is revolution. As Marx and Engels — everyone’s favorite revolutionaries — put it: “All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses, his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind.” (I will, however, point out that these “real conditions” change over time and space, and that is why revolutions at different times and places compel men to face distinct conditions of life.)
While later revolutions would be highly ambiguous in their outcomes, and these outcomes are still debated today, the American revolutionary struggle is the proof of concept of revolution. The American Revolution proved that an established political order could be violently overthrown, its representatives permanently removed from power, and representatives of the people put in power in place of the entrenched interests that had ruled heretofore.
In Sir Edward Creasy’s The Fifteen Decisive Battles of The World From Marathon to Waterloo, which I recently quoted in A Short Note on Decisive Battles, Creasy identifies the victory of Americans over Burgoyne at Saratoga as one of these fifteen decisive battles of history (this constitutes the matter of Chapter XIII). As an epigraph to this chapter Sir Creasy quotes Lord Mahon:
“Even of those great conflicts, in which hundreds of thousands have been engaged and tens of thousands have fallen, none has been more fruitful of results than this surrender of thirty-five hundred fighting-men at Saratoga. It not merely changed the relations of England and the feelings of Europe towards these insurgent colonies, but it has modified, for all times to come, the connexion between every colony and every parent state.”
Philip Henry Stanhope Stanhope (Earl), History of England: from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles. 1713-1783, in seven volumes: Volume VI, 1774-1780, Boston, 1853, Chapter LVI, page 190
In other words, the outcome of the Battle of Saratoga (actually, there were two battles, and these two battles were part of the overall Saratoga Campaign, so all of this should be understood at the operational level of revolutionary warfare) had revolutionary consequences. Lord Mahon thus neatly positions the Battle of Saratoga as the proof of concept of revolutionary warfare.
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8 March 2011
At the present moment the most strategically interesting place on the planet is Libya. Both diplomats and the popular press seem hesitant to call this a civil war (yesterday’s Financial Times’ headline nearly acknowledged this fact, saying, “Libya closer to full-blown civil war”), but if we are going to call a spade a spade, then we need to call the conflict in Libya a civil war. Government forces hold several cities (Tripoli, Sirte, Bin Jawad, and others that Gadhafi’s forces sought to re-take yesterday and again today), rebel forces hold several cities (Tobruk, Benghazi, Grega, possibly Ras Lanuf, Misrata, and Zawiya), and there are ongoing clashes between government and rebel forces. Each side, government and rebel, has its strengths and weaknesses, and there is no indication that one side or the other will suddenly collapse, though this remains a possibility for either party to the conflict.
So civil war it is, and civil war in a land made for war, according to the great documentary series about the Second World War, The World at War:
“This land was made for war. As glass resists the bite of vitriol, so this hard and calcined earth rejects the battle’s hot, corrosive impact. Here is no nubile, girlish land; no green and virginal countryside for war to violate. This land is hard. Inviolable.” (The World at War, opening words of the narrator to “Episode Eight: The Desert: War in North Africa” )
The same stretch of desert now divided east and west between Libyan government and rebel forces is the same stretch of desert the Deutsches Afrikakorps (DAK) and the British Western Desert Force during the Western Desert Campaign 1940-1943. Richard Holmes in his BBC documentary Battlefields said of North Africa that, ” desert fighting was a tactician’s dream” with its perpetually open flank and tanks moving in the desert like ships at sea.
Now seventy years later, this battleground is to be fought over again. At first it seemed that Gadhafi was so unhinged that he would be incapable to taking the kind of action that would be necessary to preserving his regime, with his statements that all his people loved him and his attempted scare tactics to the West that the instability in Libya was due to Al Qaeda. Gadhafi’s befuddlement, however, did not last long, and he has been consolidating his control over the coastal cities still within his grasp as well as striking back at cities under rebel control.
A great deal is being said and written about the situation Libya, but there is little in the way of hard information that one can count on from either a tactical or strategic perspective. We know that some Libyan airforce pilots have defected, but we also know that government planes are engaging in attacks on rebel cities (probably striking Ras Lanuf as I write this). We know that Libya has a history of stationing its armed forces close to the Egyptian border, thus positioning materiel in an area now controlled by rebel forces, but it has been widely reported that Gadhafi has been allowing the armed forces to deteriorate fearing a coup. Like many dictators, Gadhafi chose to place his trust and his money in a hand-picked private army whose loyalty he can count on.
There has been discussion of enforcing a “no fly” zone over Libya, which would neutralize the government’s air superiority, but this would involve the reduction of Libya’s air defenses, which many Western nation-states are entirely capable of doing, but which they would hesitate to undertaking for appearances sake. Far more likely is the supply of intelligence, expertise, and precision weaponry to the rebels. Recall that during the Soviet invasion and occupation of Afghanistan that the US and Pakistan facilitated the introduction of Stinger missiles, carried by donkeys over traditional smuggling routes, which had the effect of partly neutralizing Soviet air superiority.
High technology precision weaponry of the kind that can be carried by one or a few soldiers is one of the great levelers of contemporary combat, neutralizing advanced and expensive air and armored assets. If such resources are made available to the rebels in Libya, they will not need a no fly zone to succeed. The rebels have only to endure. Each day they survive adds to their credibility and makes Gadhafi look weak for being unable to enforce a security regime within the borders of his own nation-state. Strategic Forecasting has argued that the rebels would have great difficulty marching on Tripoli to take the city, and this is no doubt true, but they need not take Tripoli if they can convince the outside world that they represent the future and Gadhafi represents the past.
If Gadhafi confines himself to fortress Tripoli with a few thousand well-armed loyalists, events will squeeze him as be becomes more marginal over time. It is true that Gadhafi has an enormous amount of oil money flowing in to pay mercenaries and to buy weapons, and there will always be mercenaries willing to fight and industries willing to sell arms, but there will also be those who look to the rebel forces as the future of Libya, and they may cut deals with the Rebels. There is a pipeline to Tobruk, and in the coming months the revenues from the oil flowing through the pipeline (if it is not cut) may ultimately accrue to the rebels. Tobruk will likely be able to hold out for and extended period of time. We know from the experience of the Second World War that Tobruk is eminently fortifiable, and can outlast an extended siege.
If the rebels fail to convince the rest of the world to deal with them, or if the rebels cannot get high-tech high-precision handheld weaponry, or if the rebels get weak in the knees, then their resistance will collapse. That is a lot of ifs. One can formulate a similar list of “ifs” for Gadhafi and his loyalists. Both are vulnerable, and since it would be so difficult for either party to the conflict to dislodge, much less annihilate, the other, both are most vulnerable to political and diplomatic developments. While there are many industries and nation-states around the world that will continue to be happy to take Gadhafi’s money, he has few friends in the world. There are autocrats and dictators that share interests with Gadhafi, even they will withdraw and keep their silence as Gadhafi becomes marginalized and ineffective.
If we view recent social unrest in the Arab world as a regional movement in an area of the world in which the nation-state system has never put down deep roots (it has been called a region of stateless nations and nationless states), we can see the early non-violent revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt as the idealistic youth of the movement. But the idealism of youth cannot long endure when confronted by the realities of entrenched power, especially when that power is jealously held and not willingly surrendered. In Libya, aspirants to non-violent regime change will be forced either to give up hopes of ousting Gadhafi, or it must win a civil war in order to remove him. Gadhafi will not be toppled from power by protests in Tripoli.
That being said, the aspiration to the ideals of non-violent regime change is the most powerful force that the rebels have on their side. As I observed above, it is the political and diplomatic maneuvering rather than the maneuvering of soldiers that is likely to be decisive in Libya. Nevertheless, the rebels must show that they can fight when necessary, and this they have shown. Now they must show that they can take losses and still sustain the fight.
We should not view the outbreak of violence in Libya as the failure of a non-violent movement, but rather as a revolutionary movement coming to maturity. The revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt are far from consolidated, and there remain protests. The future of the governments in these nation-states is not yet determined. The shape of regional politics and the fate of the revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt will be determined, in part, by what takes place in Libya. It is still entirely possible for no substantive changes to occur in Tunisia and Egypt; if the rebels in Libya are successful, it will make it possible for non-traditionalist regimes to come into power in Tunisia and Egypt, thus consolidating the gains of the early non-violent revolutions. We must see the whole movement in regional context, and judge its success or failure on a regional level.
This is as much as to say that the rebels fighting in Libya are the armed prophets of a social revolution, and, as we know from Machiavelli, unarmed prophets fail whereas armed prophets sometimes succeed:
It is necessary, therefore, if we desire to discuss this matter thoroughly, to inquire whether these innovators can rely on themselves or have to depend on others: that is to say, whether, to consummate their enterprise, have they to use prayers or can they use force? In the first instance they always succeed badly, and never compass anything; but when they can rely on themselves and use force, then they are rarely endangered. Hence it is that all armed prophets have conquered, and the unarmed ones have been destroyed. Besides the reasons mentioned, the nature of the people is variable, and whilst it is easy to persuade them, it is difficult to fix them in that persuasion. And thus it is necessary to take such measures that, when they believe no longer, it may be possible to make them believe by force.
Machiavelli, The Prince, Chapter VI
The non-violent social revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt were the work of unarmed prophets, and the arms remained in the same hands who possessed them prior to the revolutions. Such revolutions would be easy to undo. Circumstances have forced the prophets of revolution in Libya to take up arms and become armed prophets.
Immediately before his classic reference to armed and unarmed prophets, Machiavelli wrote about the difficulty of establishing a new political order:
“…it ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things. Because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new. This coolness arises partly from fear of the opponents, who have the laws on their side, and partly from the incredulity of men, who do not readily believe in new things until they have had a long experience of them. Thus it happens that whenever those who are hostile have the opportunity to attack they do it like partisans, whilst the others defend lukewarmly, in such wise that the prince is endangered along with them.”
This is precisely the difficult thing that the revolutionaries in the Arab world are attempting to do: to introduce a new order of things. They are visionaries and prophets, and they face all the problems that Machiavelli elaborated. The difficulty of being a prophet requires for success that one become an armed prophet, and this is what we see occurring in Libya. If the Libyan armed prophets of revolution are successful, they will provide yet further proof of concept and facilitate revolutionary regional change.
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3 March 2011
Some time ago I was reading a list of potential strategic shocks to the world geopolitical system. One of the items on the list was the democratization of China. The democratization of the Arab World was not on the list. This, however, is the strategic shock that the world has witnessed. We call them “strategic shocks” because they are unpredicted, and recent events in North Africa were definitely unpredicted. A year ago no one would have guessed that there would be a civil war in Libya, which is what is essentially happening as I write this. As I wrote in The Geography of Revolution, I do not think that Gaddafi can long endure, but he is putting up a fight.
The definitive work on strategic shocks is Known Unknowns: Unconventional “Strategic Shocks” in Defense Strategy Development by Nathan P. Freier. There is also Blindside: How to Anticipate Forcing Events and Wild Cards in Global Politics, edited by Francis Fukuyama. I have used both terms — “strategic shock” and “blindside” — in several posts.
It is difficult to define strategic shocks in anything other than phenomenalistic terms, since strategic shocks are by their very nature unpredicted and unpredictable. Since they are unpredictable, strategic shocks cannot be confined to a single definition; if we could precisely define the parameters of strategic shock, we would be that much closer to predicting them, and if we could predict them, they would not longer be shocks. However, even if we can’t define strategic shocks in any detailed manner, we can observe that strategic shocks sometimes manifest themselves in patterns, and one pattern of strategic shock is a revolutionary wave.
It could be argued that the “color revolutions” that successively swept through the ‘stans of Central Asia were simply a delayed response to the dissolution of the Soviet Union, which latter was a true strategic shock of grand proportions (or, if you’re Vladimir Putin, it was the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the century). Whether or not the “color revolutions” represented a revolutionary wave, recent events in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya suggest a revolutionary wave that may yet encompass more of the Arab world before it is spent.
Freier makes a rough distinction between strategic surprise and strategic shock:
“Shock” and “surprise” are not necessarily synonymous. Surprise is only half of the equation with respect to defense-relevant shocks. They are distinct from other unexpected strategic contingency events in that they are unanticipated and inadequately accounted for to such an extent that their occurrence triggers fundamental strategic and institutional disruption across the defense enterprise. There is no scientific break point between strategic shock and strategic surprise. The boundary separating the two is a function of an event’s strategic impact, the extent of disruption it causes, and the degree to which the defense enterprise anticipated its occurrence in strategy development and planning. High impact contingency events that promise fundamental disruption and occur without the benefit of adequate policy-level anticipation are more likely than not to be strategic shocks.
Tunisia alone might have constituted a strategic surprise, but Tunisia followed by Egypt and Libya together constitute a strategic shock, regardless of what the outcome is in Libya.
Each stage of the North African strategic shock has constituted a new proof of concept for popular revolt in the Arab world. Tunisia demonstrated the mere possibility of successful popular and non-violent revolt in the context of the institutions of North African society. Egypt demonstrated that what happened in Tunisia can happen in a nation-state of much larger size and population, and indeed in a bastion of traditional Arab culture. Libya has demonstrated so far that a popular revolt in the same civilizational milieu can be sustained in the face of armed resistance by an entrenched autocrat, and if the revolution against Gaddafi succeeds, it will prove that popular revolt can be successful against a resisting autocrat willing to hire mercenaries to spill blood to retain his rule.
One of the signs that the events in North Africa constitutes a strategic shock is the demonstrable worldwide response to these events. There have been several stories of Chinese harassing of dissidents and a preemptive security crackdown to put any potential protesters on notice. In Saudi Arabia, the royal family has decided to shower even more money on a population already laboring under a nearly crippling sense of entitlement. In Zimbabwe there was a show of force, Zimbabwe police, military put on show of force, again to preempt protesters. And in Venezuela, Chavez says he won’t condemn Libya’s Gadhafi. Entrenched autocrats who have systematically insulated themselves from their immiserated populations are alarmed and taking action. In same cases, perhaps in most cases, these actions will forestall revolutionary protests; in some cases, these reactionary measures will be too little, too late. And every potential venue of revolution is seething. There was an interesting story on the BBC, Syria: Why is there no Egypt-style revolution?, in which Lina Sinjab wrote:
“The government has taken several measures in the wake of Tunisia and Egypt to reduce the cost of basic goods, especially food. There have been grants for the poor, and reports that civil servants have been instructed to treat citizens with respect. But Syria suffers from corruption that goes all the way up the system.”
Thus far in Syria, this combination of half-measures has kept the populace mostly quiet.
A strategic shock sets up shockwaves, and as these shockwaves break against fragile and brittle regimes, these regimes suffer, react, and — at times — collapse. We are seeing the strategic shock from Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya ripple outward, and while we cannot say what will happen next, we can say that the consequences have not yet played out, and more regimes will be shaken by the shockwave.
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22 February 2011
Being alive in the winter of 2011 is a bit like being alive when the Berlin Wall came down, although at that time I remember watching events on television news, whereas now I learn everything from the internet, and if I watch anything, I watch it on Youtube not on television. I remember so well how the nation-states of the Warsaw Pact fell like dominoes. Today another dictator of many decades duration is tottering on the edge of political survival. I do not think that Gaddafi can last, although he does have seven sons and they ought to be both young enough and vigorous enough to beat back a challenge to their rule (something obviously not the case with Zine El Abidine Ben Ali or Hosni Mubarak) if only they are able to maintain the loyalty of police, military, and security services.
In the map above I have colored nation-states that have not yet experienced significant protests in orange, those that have experienced regime change through popular revolt in pink (Tunisia and Egypt), and those that have experienced significant protests in Red (Yemen, Jordan, Iran, and Libya; Bahrain is too small to appear on this map). It should come as no surprise that Libya, which now looks like it will be the next domino to fall to popular revolt in North Africa, is sandwiched between Tunisia and Egypt. While I have never been to North Africa, one can surmise that the trade links and population transfers between these neighbors will be fairly robust, even if they are confined to smuggling routes. Ideas move with populations, and it is to be expected that Libyans have been in and out of Egypt and Tunisia since the successful revolutions in these countries, and that Tunisians and Egyptians have crossed in and out of Libya. Even if the travelers are only local businessmen with no particular sympathy for youthful revolutionaries, they will have had stories that will not have been in the press, and one assumes that the Libyans would have been a rapt audience.
I suggested above that Gaddafi’s sons ought to be able to enforce their rule if they have the cooperation of the security services. Earlier when I was writing about Egypt, I suggested that the thing to watch for is whether security services switch sides or withdraw. In Egypt, the police withdrew, and the army enforced enough civil order to keep the transition relatively peaceful. While Egypt has not yet fully returned to normalcy, it was quite telling that once the central demand of the Egyptian protesters was met — the exit of Mubarak — the army “cleared” El Tahrir Square. It is pretty obvious that the army could have “cleared” El Tahrir square earlier, and if they had done so while Mubarak was still in power, he could have survived. I suspect that Mubarak is a little bitter about this, but somewhere along the way he lost the loyalty of the army. He retained some loyalty among the police, but the police were an unpopular institutions, and they made themselves scarce either due to the hostile crowds or the presence of the army or both.
Already in Libya there have been instances of security services making themselves scarce or switching sides and making common cause with the protesters. This tells me that the political rule of Gaddafi and his sons is doomed. There have even been reports that Libyan airforce pilots have defected rather than carry out orders against the protesters, and, most recently, a report that a Libyan warship has defected to Malta. I remarked elsewhere that when Romanians revolted against Nicolae Ceauşescu in 1989, even though Ceauşescu retained the loyalty of his private army, the Securitate, this was not enough to save him. Pitched battles were fought in the streets between regular army units and units of the Securitate. Ultimately, its a numbers game: numbers of guns, numbers of soliders, numbers of people, numbers of police, and numbers of sacrifices. The contemporary territorial nation-state is in most cases much too large for a population to be ruled against its will; if a people make a country ungovernable, often at considerable cost to themselves, the government has little choice but to leave. The only question is how many they will kill before they leave. And we have seen in Bahrain that even a small nation-state can be made ungovernable.
What more do we see when we look at a map of North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula? Sudan and Ethiopia have their own issues and their own conflicts. Now that the North of Sudan is consolidating itself as an independent nation-state, it is less likely to see protests rather than more likely. Iran has had significant protests. I predicted earlier that these will not go far. I stand by this prediction, although that does not mean that there will not be protests, and it doesn’t even mean that Ahmadi-nejad will remain in power. But I continue to predict that Iran will remain an Islamic Republic with its constitution more or less intact: faces may change, but interests and strategic trends will remain consistent. Algeria is the next obvious venue for revolution, especially if Libya falls. The sooner Libya goes, the more momentum there will be for action in Algeria.
Saudi Arabia is the 500 pound gorilla as well as being the elephant in the room that we pretend not to notice. So far, things are quiet and the House of Saud seems as complacent and implacable as ever. But Saudi Arabia has a youthful, restive population, although also a youthful population with a staggering sense of entitlement. This sense of entitlement may be enough to retain Saudi exceptionalism in the region. I don’t know. Winston Churchill famously said of Russia, “I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.” I will say the same for Saudi Arabia: I cannot forecast to you the action of Saudi Arabia. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. But I will not go on to paraphrase Churchill for the second part of his claim: Saudi national interest is as murky as its actions. There is the interest of the royal family, there is the interest of the oil wealth of the families in charge of the oil, there is the interest of the Islamists who understand the Kingdom only in terms of its stewardship of the holy places of Islam, and there are the interests of a youthful and restive population. These interests do not necessarily converge, and in some ways they radically diverge. Therefore there is no one Saudi national interest, and therefore no key to the mystery.
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11 February 2011
The central demand of the protesters in Cairo’s El Tahrir Square has been met: President Hosni Mubarak has resigned his office. Thus according to this limited definition of success, we can call the Lotus Revolution a “success.” But we all know that this is not really the end — that it is, in fact, only the beginning of a process that will eventually define the future of Egypt’s political identity.
Just as we can distinguish long term causes, short term causes, and triggers in the lead up to an event (an historical etiology, if you will), so too we can distinguish long term consequences, short term consequences, and triggers in the aftermath of an event. Mubarak’s departure from office is a trigger for the end of the Lotus Revolution, but the occurrence of a triggering event is not the same as short term consequences or long term consequences.
While the short term consequences will be revealed to us over the coming weeks and months, and the long term consequences will be revealed over the coming years and centuries, there are certain observations that can be made. The more knowledge one has of a given society, the more accurate one’s observations will be. Since I know almost nothing about Egyptian society, I can only speculate in the most general way about the outcome of events triggered by the departure of Mubarak.
One thing that I know holds good across all societies, and which often makes revolutions disappointing, is that there is, in every country, a small group of elite and privileged people who are the ones prepositioned to assume prominent roles in any newly formed government. It is common for a government formed from privileged elites in the wake of a popular uprising to cherry pick a few of the ringleaders of the popular uprising to participate in the government. This gives the masses the impression that their voice has not only been heard, but that they now have a voice in the highest councils of state, and it gives “street cred” to the members of the government who did not earn their street cred on the street. Such appointments are usually symbolic, and they remain symbolic unless the arriviste is exceptionally brilliant and talented and is able to engineer his or her own Machtergreifung.
It is because of the stability of privileged elites across changed regimes that it was possible for a Bourbon monarch to sit on the throne of France and have it said that he had “learned nothing and forgotten nothing” since the revolution. The French Revolution was far more radical than the recent events in Egypt, and even the French didn’t decisively rid themselves of their aristocrats, despite their best effort during The Terror to cut off as many aristocratic heads as possible. Therefore I suspect that the Egyptians will not easily or readily rid themselves of the behind-the-scenes power-brokers who are much much responsible for the condition of the country as was Mubarak.
Institutional continuity almost always trumps discontinuity, and in so far as a revolution is an attempt to engineer historical discontinuity, these attempts at social engineering come to grief due to the friction of institutional stability. Institutions can be a social lubricant, and the primary ways of getting things done, but institutions, when opposed, are sources of social friction. That is to say, institutions on the whole possess macro-resiliency in contradistinction to the micro-fragility of particular individuals who people them and represent them. We could call this political symmetry by analogy with the use of the term “symmetry” in physical theory: regardless of political transformations (regime changes), certain things remain true, and among these things that remain true are the influence of the influential, the wealth of the wealthy, and the privilege of the privileged.
Already in Tunisia there has been grumbling on the street that the newly installed government is too close to the ousted Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. Such things are to be expected, and they are to be expected because they are largely true. People want change, and when people agitate for revolutionary change they want revolutionary change. When a revolution is followed by the same-old-same-old, those who sacrificed for the revolution become frustrated and angry. And we already knew what they did when they were frustrated and angry with the previous regime.
The short term consequences of the Lotus Revolution will be worked out in the power struggles to create a new government. This power struggle will take place between privileged elites, the military, protest leaders like Mohamed ElBaradei, and powerful social institutions within Egyptian society like the Muslim Brotherhood. It is likely that several coalitions will be tried and tested, the fittest will survive, and go on through descent with modification to evolve into a government.
The long term consequences of the Lotus Revolution will be worked out regionally and internationally, as various nation-states and institutions vie to define the future of the region. As I attempted to put across in Popular Revolt in the Arab World, Egypt matters. Egypt has social capital. It has ancient universities with enormous intellectual appeal and authority.
What happens in Egypt resonates in the region. Thus even the narrow sense of the success of the Lotus Revolution is symbolically important. It will certainly lead to some consequences outside Egypt, putting great pressure on autocratic regimes. Here we are at great risk to listening too much to Western commentators who fail to make the correct distinctions between the players in the region. The popular discontent, for example, will not spread to Iran. Iran is an Islamic Republic. It may have repressive policies, but it is nothing like Egyptian society. Iran has a minimal degree of responsiveness to its people. And in Jordan, the Hashemite Dynasty has just enough social capital that the king’s dismissal of his government is not seen in the same light as Mubarak’s dismissal of his government. The events in Egypt will resonate most in the Arabian Peninsula itself, for it is there that we find repressive, unresponsive governments that have in the recent past been producing terrorist malcontents, as did Egypt. If the social malcontents should turn their attention from hatred of the West to hatred of their own oppressive governments (now that regime change in the Arab world has received its proof of concept), then dominoes may begin to fall.
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7 February 2011
The recent Popular Revolt in the Arab World, which in at least one case — Tunisia — has led to Regime Change through Popular Revolt, is a good reminder that the spirit of democratic aspiration is alive and well in the world today. The advanced industrialized democracies seem to be so trapped in a self-understanding based on a declension narrative that one might suppose that the spirit of the democratic ideal had ceded its place to more aggressive alternatives.
There is a very good reason for the outburst of democratic (or, if you prefer, popular) sentiment in those regions of the world that have been deprived of the institutions of popular sovereignty even while those regions of the world that have enjoyed the benefits of popular sovereignty seem to have lost faith in their own ideals. The reason may be explicated in the form of a distinction between nascent democracy and decadent democracy. (I could formulate the distinctions in terms of the relative maturity of democratic institutions, but I rather like expressing myself in terms of nascent democracy and decadent democracy.) Here I will be using the term “democracy” in the widest possible sense to indicate democratic institutions including but not limited to elections, a universal or nearly universal franchise, a written constitution, guarantees of individual liberties and the status of minority populations, the separation of executive, legislative, and judicial powers, observation of due process of law, civilian control of the military, freedoms of the press and assembly, and the like.
In decadent democracies, the process of institutional maturation has run its course and a full complement of socio-economic institutions has evolved under the political selection pressure of popular sovereignty. Under these conditions, democracy has come into its own, and democratic processes proceed through the channels of democratic institutions. Not surprisingly, this makes the political establish extremely sluggish and unresponsive — ironically, the very political mechanisms put into place to guarantee the responsiveness of a government to its people have a self-limiting threshold when these mechanisms become too unwieldy because they become too comprehensive, i.e., too democratic.
In nascent democracies, the process of the institutional formation has only started, or it may be only a twinkle in the eyes of those agitating for the establishment of democratic institutions. The idea of what is possible is more central to events in nascent democracies than the day-to-day grind of actual democratic processes, which may well prove to be an anticlimax. Nascent democracies inherit socio-economic institutions that have evolved under the political selection pressure of autocracy or oligarchy or aristocracy, therefore there is a tension between the practical institutions whereby ends are attained and the impractical desire to dissolve them or reform them.
In a comment on this forum, Thomas P. M. Barnett wrote, “…young democracies tend to be the most warlike — more than mature democracies and more than authoritarian states.” In the context of the distinction between nascent democracies and decadent democracies it is relatively easy to see why this is the case: the young, nascent democracies do not yet possess democratic institutions, and there is great internal tension within the society over the inadequacy of legacy institutions to the recently instituted ideal. One way to discharge these tensions is to pick a fight. Nation-states, like individuals, can suffer from hysteria and neurotic misery.
Furthermore, decadent democracies, in possession of fully democratic institutions, because of their comprehensivity come to tolerate even profoundly anti-democratic sentiments within the body politic. There is no mechanism for the removal of an opinion that is counter-productive to democracy, and so fully democratic institutions incubate the reactionary forces that will attack it from within. It is important to remember that anti-democratic sentiment is not likely to be initially expressed in a vulgar form intended to appeal to an mass audience. Anti-democratic feeling can be as privileged and erudite as, for example, Amy Chua’s attack on democratic institutions in her book World on Fire.
Even as decadent democracies are incubating the forces that will destroy it from within, nascent democracies — which, in their earliest stages are non-democracies — are incubating the forces that will destroy the old socio-economic order. Tottering decadent non-democratic regimes often resort to ham-handed attempts to oppress and repress the social demonstration of frustration and anger, but, tottering as they are, they lack the vitality to prosecute their persecution with sufficient fervor to stamp out the nascent democratic sentiment. This persecution short of the threshold of annihilation becomes a surmountable challenge that strengthens the democratic movement. This is a Toynbee-like challenge and response cycle in which just enough hardship is a spur to greater things. As Nietzsche wrote, that which does not destroy me, makes me stronger. This is precisely how the early Christians triumphed in Rome.
At this point it should be obvious that decadent democracies and nascent democracies are two separate points on the continuum of the democratic life cycle, and in some rare cases in history the cycle becomes a perfect closed political cycle in which a decadent democracy falls to reactionary elements, the reactionary elements take power and remain in power long enough to become the decadent establishment in turn, at which point they cannot suppress the democratic aspirations of the people, who overthrow their autocratic regime and install a democratic regime that, in the fullness of time, also becomes decadent and ripe for overthrow. We could call this perfect closed historical cycle the Cycle of Revolution (or, by analogy with the Cartesian Circle, we could call it the Revolutionary Circle).
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