Hypocrisy Was Better
The end of political restraint
The “long twentieth century,” which now appears to be
finally ending, was a remarkable period at least because international
politics, and politics in general, was still expected to observe certain norms
of decency, if only verbally. In one of John le Carré’s spy novels, a character
of some consequence, reflecting on hypocrisy, insists that it deserves respect
because it at least brings us a little closer to morality.
And indeed, a person or a state that constantly and publicly
insists on the ethical nature of its behavior is forced, however slightly and
however rarely, to correspond to that claim. A complete and unconditional
renunciation of any pretense to be better than one actually is has never led
anyone to noble deeds.
The impression now is that world politics, and human life in
general, is entering a period when stones are being scattered rather than
gathered. In other words, experience is being accumulated through actions and
mistakes, which may later be transformed into something wiser. That, at least,
is the optimistic version. It is also possible that the stones are being
scattered because the people holding them have simply forgotten what houses are
for.
Partly, this is entirely inevitable for objective reasons.
First, civilization has reached a new threshold in
understanding itself and its capacity to control nature. This produces
confusion, and confusion produces aggression at the level of peoples and whole
states. Especially in those cases where they are not fully confident in the
legitimacy of their existence in their current form.
Second, the period of economic prosperity that began with
the turn toward the neoliberal model in the mid-1970s has ended. Over the past
fifty years, that model managed to exhaust its internal resources and finally
consume the remaining foundations of the Western welfare state. The feast was
long, the music was pleasant, and the waiter has now arrived with the bill.
Finally, everything suggests that the 500-year era of
complete Western military dominance over the rest of humanity is indeed coming
to an end. This last point is the most important both in the context of the
“crocodile question” and in relation to Russia’s role in world affairs. The
features of Israeli behavior in recent years are a direct consequence of the
shrinking ability of the United States to determine the course of events in the
Middle East.
Whether one likes it or not, Israel, despite its
achievements in economics and military affairs, is no more than a projection of
American interests and a product of Washington’s global strategy. The fact that
the Jewish state has been so desperately convulsing in recent years is the
result of deep uncertainty about its own strength under conditions of declining
American capacity.
As for Russia, throughout all these five centuries it
remained the only country in the world that, with colossal stubbornness and
self-sacrifice, did not submit to Western pressure by force. It truly was, and
remains, a beacon for all humanity striving for freedom. Yet if the world is
changing so radically, Russia must now understand what its place in world
affairs will be.
This entire combination of serious causes gives current
global processes a revolutionary character. The changes concern not only such
simple and obvious matters as the crisis of international law, the decline of
global organizations like the UN, or the relative weakening of the United
States and Europe, which brings joy to almost everyone. The radical scale of
what is happening lies precisely in the fact that it touches the foundations of
social life.
Above all, it touches the question of what is permissible.
The discussion of a crocodile moat is a perfect example of
how quickly we are moving along the path of revolutionary change. Something
that only a few years ago belonged to memes and pseudo-scientific fantasy has
become an idea seriously discussed by government officials. Its implementation
looks entirely plausible if one considers everything that has happened over the
past three years in relations between Israel and its neighbors.
This is the true marker of the age. The issue is not even
the crocodiles themselves, although the crocodiles are doing their best to be
memorable. The issue is the collapse of the boundary separating political
imagination from administrative reality. What yesterday was grotesque today
becomes a policy option. Tomorrow, with enough legal creativity, a budget line.
In more stable times, even harsh states preferred to
describe their actions in the language of necessity, law, and order. Now the
mask slips more often. Sometimes it is no longer even worn. The conversation no
longer asks whether a measure corresponds to justice, tradition,
proportionality, or the dignity of the state. It asks whether it works, whether
it frightens, whether it humiliates, whether it produces the desired
psychological effect.
This is precisely what makes the “crocodile question”
politically interesting. It is not a zoological curiosity. It is a small but
rather elegant window into the new norm of global behavior, where the grotesque
increasingly seeks official registration.
And here Russia faces a serious intellectual task. If the
world is leaving the old age of Western domination, then it is not enough
merely to celebrate the weakening of those who spent centuries teaching
humanity manners at cannon point. The end of their monopoly will not
automatically produce a more humane order. It may simply produce an order in
which everyone, liberated from the old hypocrisy, begins to behave according to
the measure of his fear, rage, and imagination.
The old hypocrisy at least occasionally restrained action.
The new sincerity may prove much more dangerous.
That is why the future role of Russia cannot be reduced only
to resistance against Western pressure or to participation in the dismantling
of the old order. If Russia truly claims the position of a civilizational
force, then it must also help define the new boundaries of the permissible.
Otherwise, the world after Western dominance may turn into a market of
instincts, where every state brings to the table its own crocodiles, legal
department, and justification.
The moat around the prison may or may not be built. The
courts may stop it, bureaucrats may delay it, environmental lawyers may
unexpectedly become the last defenders of what used to be called decency. There
is already something impressive in a situation where the main obstacle to
political barbarism turns out to be concern for the reptiles.
But the very fact that such an idea moved from grotesque
fantasy into government discussion is enough. It tells us where the world is
heading. It also tells us that the coming age will require not only strength,
but judgment.
And perhaps that will be the most difficult part.