It seems evident, from the attitude of the capitalist world to Soviet Russia, of the Entente to the Central Empires, and of England to Ireland and India, that there is no depth of cruelty, perfidy or brutality from which the present holders of power will shrink when they feel themselves threatened. If, in order to oust them, nothing short of religious fanaticism will serve, it is they who are the prime sources of the resultant evil. … To make the transition with a minimum of bloodshed, with a maximum of preservation of whatever has value in our existing civilization, is a difficult problem…. I wish I could think that its solution would be facilitated by some slight degree of moderation and humane feeling on the part of those who enjoy unjust privileges in the world as it is.
—Bertrand Russell1
To explain the theme and purpose of this book, let me start by describing a recent encounter with an important representative of the Belgian ecological movement, a woman in the far-left wing of her movement. I reminded her that in the 1980s, at the height of the Cold War when her movement was just getting started, it upheld the idea of a nonviolent civil defense in place of military service, and I asked her how the ecologists came around to the very different positions they have today, for example on the Kosovo war or on the European Union. She replied that pacifism had long since been abandoned, and that she herself would like to see intervention in Africa to put an end to the massive rapes committed there. In the course of the discussion that followed, she told me that she also thought we should intervene to protect the Palestinians and that a preventive war should have been waged against Hitler in the 1930s.
Having taken part in dozens of private and public debates in Belgium, France, Switzerland and Italy ever since the beginning of the new American wars (Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, Iraq), I have repeatedly run into this type of reaction, including, and perhaps primarily, in leftist circles of all shades (ecologists, social democrats, Trotskyists, etc.).2 Indeed, one of the characteristics of mainstream discourse, from the right to the left, and even going pretty far toward the “extremes” in either direction, is that today’s political ethic is totally dominated by what can be called the intervention imperative. Here in Europe we are constantly being called upon to defend the rights of oppressed minorities in remote places (Chechnya, Tibet, Kosovo, Kurdistan), about which as a rule most of us know very little; to protest against violations of human rights in Cuba, China, or Sudan; to call for abolition of the death penalty in the United States; to protect women from persecution in Muslim countries; to support the Palestinian resistance; or perhaps to save the Amazonian forest. The right of humanitarian intervention is not only widely accepted, it often becomes a “duty to intervene.” We are told that it is urgent to create international tribunals to judge various crimes committed within the borders of sovereign states. The world is said to have become a global village and we must be involved in everything that goes on everywhere. The wisdom of those who would “mind their own business” is considered anachronistic and reactionary. The left is even more prone to this discourse than the right, and fancies that it is keeping alive the great tradition of working-class internationalism and solidarity with the Spanish Republicans or with anticolonial struggles. Also, denouncing allegedly undemocratic regimes can be considered a way to avoid repeating the “errors of the past,” when factions of the left failed to denounce crimes committed by the Soviet Union or were slow to recognize the murderous nature of a self-proclaimed revolutionary Third World movement such as the Khmer Rouge led by Pol Pot (which engaged in massive killings from the time it took power in 1975 until it was overthrown by a Vietnamese intervention, which, ironically, was condemned by Washington).
This web of ideas is rather confused, and one of the main goals of this book will be to try to clarify them. Moreover, these ideas seem to constitute the principal obstacle to building an effective movement of opposition to imperial wars. There was scarcely any visible opposition to the 1999 war against Yugoslavia, the very model of “humanitarian” war, and very little to the war in Afghanistan. It is true that there were huge demonstrations, unique in history and certainly immensely encouraging, against the invasion of Iraq. But it must be admitted that as soon as the Bush administration proclaimed victory, public opinion, at least in the West, fell relatively quiescent, even as the war in Iraq raged on.
“America is a nation at war…. At the direction of the President we will defeat adversaries at the time, place, and in the manner of our choosing.” Thus opens a recent Pentagon report on the national defense strategy of the United States.3 Further along one reads that the United States’ leading position in the world continues to breed “unease, a degree of resentment and resistance” and will be challenged by those who employ “a strategy of the weak using international fora, judicial processes, and terrorism” (all lumped together).
Meanwhile, starting with the 1999 Seattle demonstrations, a new antiglobalization or “global justice” movement emerged and has developed through various social forums. Its attention has been primarily focused on the economic consequences of neoliberalism, in both the south and north of the planet. The movement has also shown interest in the political and media aspects of domination strategies. But it has paid relatively little attention to their military aspect, and even less to the ideological factors legitimizing military action. But every relationship of domination is, in the last analysis, military, and always needs an ideology as justification.
The ideology of our times, at least when it comes to legitimizing war, is no longer Christianity, nor Kipling’s “white man’s burden” or the “civilizing mission” of the French Republic, but is a certain discourse on human rights and democracy, mixed in with a particular representation of the Second World War. This discourse justifies Western interventions in the Third World in the name of the defense of democracy and human rights or against the “new Hitlers.” This is the discourse and the representation that must be challenged in order to build a radical and self-confident opposition to current and future wars.
The battle of ideas, waged with rigorous reasoning and démystification, is essential to underpin political action. In France, after the end of the decolonization period and the Vietnam War, it was a major ideological offensive waged through the media by the self-styled “new philosophers” that enabled the most conspicuous sector of the French intelligentsia to shift from a somewhat romantic sympathy for the Third World to a growing alignment with U.S. government positions.4 In the face of current conflicts, an intellectual arsenal is needed in order to challenge mainstream rhetoric and argumentation. We are up against the effects of thirty years of generally well-financed and publicized books, films, lectures, articles and commentaries, endlessly rehashed by the media.
Inasmuch as the intervention discourse is ostensibly an ethical one, it is mainly on ethical grounds that it must be combated. This does not mean that facts are of no importance—they are enormously important—or that the debate is situated on the level of ‘Values,” it means that the principal purpose here is not to provide new facts. Facts about U.S. foreign policy are increasingly available, especially thanks to the work of American authors.
What is lacking is a systematic reflection about what those facts imply in regard to our own moral and political responsibilities.
Before opening the debate, let us state some caveats and clear up a few potential misunderstandings. First of all, I have to admit I do not have the means to prove my hypothesis; that is, the ideas I criticize are not only very widespread but even, so to speak, constitute the dominant ideology of our times. Quoting this or that author defending those ideas, as I do from time to time, does not constitute proof. Only a long sociological study, which I lack the means to undertake, could establish the facts. Reading elite journals and discussing issues with members of progressive organizations and peace movements have convinced me that the supposed need to defend human rights by military means is indeed the ideological Trojan horse of Western interventionism within the very movements opposed to it in principle—but I don’t claim to be able to prove this. Certain of my assertions are conjectures rather than certainties, which my situation as an isolated writer without institutional support prevents me from confirming or even studying in greater detail. I nevertheless hope that this discussion of certain ideas will be of interest even to those who are not as convinced as I am of their weight and relevance.
On the other hand, the reader will not find here any analysis, or at least not any very developed analysis, of the internal causes of imperialism, whether economic or of some other order. I shall use the term imperialism, though without giving it a “scientific” connotation, to designate Western colonial or neocolonial policies in the Third World. In fact, even if it has more or less fallen out of use, the term seems to me far preferable to the word empire which, at least as employed by Hardt, Negri, and their disciples, seems to refer to a vague entity that does not rely on the power of any particular state.
There are many reasons for this refusal to undertake any “profound” analysis of imperialism. Suffice it to say that, for one thing, human phenomena are so complicated and combine so many factors that a reasonable skepticism, such as belongs to the scientific attitude, can lead one to doubt they can be analyzed in a truly scientific way (and not simply proclaimed to be scientific). Of course, it is always possible to select sufficient facts and focus on certain variables so as to give the impression of coming up with a veritable explanation of such-and-such aspects of society or history, but the quite remarkable absence of successful prediction, beyond what plain common sense can come up with, and the rapid obsolescence of such explanations tend to reinforce my skepticism. For another, too little is known about human beings, in particular human motivations, for us to answer certain basic questions: to what extent is man a homo economicus, calculating and acting according to his interests and those of his social class, and to what extent is he dominated by “irrational” (from a purely economic viewpoint) passions, such as religion, nationalism, or thirst for power? In the absence of answers to these questions, the real origin of wars and the role of economic factors are difficult to define.
To desire one’s own economic advancement is comparatively reasonable; to Marx, who inherited eighteenth-century rationalist psychology from the British orthodox economists, self-enrichment seemed the natural aim of a man’s political actions. But modem psychology has dived much deeper into the ocean of insanity upon which the little barque of human reason insecurely floats. The intellectual optimism of a bygone age is no longer possible to the modem student of human nature. Yet it lingers in Marxism making Marxians rigid and Procrustean in their treatment of the life of instinct Of this rigidity the materialistic conception of history is a prominent instance.
—Bertrand Russell5
Turning to possible misunderstandings, one should start by noticing that “third worldist” positions, or even simple criticisms of the West, are increasingly presented as based on some form or other of moral or cultural relativism; in other words, on the idea that it is impossible to make morally objective judgments or, more or less the same, on the notion that their validity is entirely relative to the culture that produced them.
Many critics of imperial policies accept these premises. But they do not apply here. It is perfectly possible to criticize American policies from a universalist—even liberal (in the political and classic sense of the term)—philosophical and conceptual perspective, in the tradition of the Enlightenment. Writers such as Hobson, Twain, Russell, or today Chomsky illustrate this attitude.6 It can also be noted that criticizing the West in the name of the very values it claims to embody, as I attempt to do here, is simpler and more radical than a relativist critique requiring a preliminary philosophical discussion leading to rejection of the possibility of objective value judgments.
In particular, all the following criticisms of the ideological utilization of human rights in no way challenge the legitimacy of the aspirations contained in the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights. One can be in perfect agreement with certain moral principles and at the same time denounce the way they are misused in practice. Morality is not only a matter of principles; in human relations, as in political discourse, the evocation of principles can very well be a form of hypocrisy, just as self-mortification for crimes for which one is not responsible (those of the past, for example) can serve to gain indulgence toward those for which one is responsible. I might liken my position with respect to human rights to that of left-wing Christians who accept Christian teachings but criticize the way they are used, including by the Church itself, to justify the powers that be. In regard to human rights, the role of the Church is played by leading Western governments, media, and intellectuals, as well as by a certain number of NGOs and progressive movements.
Another misunderstanding to be avoided stems from opposition to imperial wars increasingly being seen as based on strict pacifist principles, or on a philosophy of nonviolence. But that philosophy only becomes relevant in discussing how to react to an attack. There is no need to take a position on nonviolence when criticizing wars of aggression, such as the recent American wars. Discussing pacificism or nonviolent defense would be of considerable interest, but it is outside the scope of this book.
Precise definitions of a certain number of terms used rather polemically should help avoid letting the polemics blur the argument. To start with, the term West is used to designate a historical and geographical area (the United States and Europe) but will be used mainly to emphasize the ideological fault line between this area and the rest of the world. A detailed study of spontaneous popular reactions to September 11 should suffice to make the point. If I should say, in the Arab world, that instead of attacking Iraq, it would be better to bring the “Zionist entity” (using that term) into line; or, in Latin America and much of Asia, that the very last way to deal with Yugoslavia would be to let the United States exploit that tragedy to legitimatize its unilateral right to intervene, I would not arouse many protests from any part of the political spectrum. In contrast, anyone who makes such remarks in Europe or in the United States will rapidly be drowned out by an indignant chorus of words like Stalin, Pol Pot, anti-Semitism, anti-Americanism—again, right across the political spectrum. This difference illustrates the width and depth of the split.
Sandwiched between a Rolex watch store and a BMW car dealership, the restaurant is packed with affluent university students dressed in American garb and aware of the billions of dollars in foreign aid that the U.S. has pumped into Egypt It’s the sort of place where one would expect to find sympathy for the American cause.
But listen to what they’re saying.
Sitting under a poster advertising “Crispy and Delicious McWings,” Radwa Abdallah, an 18-year-old university student is explaining that she rejoiced when she learned that thousands of Americans had probably died in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. “Everyone celebrated,” Ms. Abdallah says, as her girlfriends giggle. “People honked in the streets, cheering that finally America got what it truly deserved.”
Fellow student Raghda El Mahrouqi agrees: “I just hope there were a lot of Jews in that building,” she says. Sherihan Amman an aspiring doctor in elaborate makeup and tight T-shirt, sums up her feelings this way: “America was just too full of itself,” she says with a dismissive gesture….
A trip around the capital of Egypt, one of America’s main Mideast allies and the biggest Muslim recipient of U.S. foreign aid, shows that educated, relatively wealthy and seemingly Americanized Arabs just as openly express their joy at the carnage in the U.S….
Although all Arab governments except Iraq’s condemned the U.S. attacks, the prevailing view even among those horrified by the killings is that what happened in New York and Washington isn’t all that different from what America itself has inflicted on Iraqis, Palestinians, Sudanese and other Muslims.
Even in thoroughly Western-oriented countries like Morocco, a nation far removed from the Israeli-Palestinian struggle and a onetime applicant to join the old European Community, many voice sneaking admiration for the terrorists. In a convenience store in Er Rachidia, a sand-swept town at the threshold of the Sahara, the first television images of the World Trade Center towers engulfed in smoke were greeted with a roar of approval. “Of course we are happy,” says the storekeeper as he invited a group of foreigners to stop and watch the news.
In Marrakech, the hub of Morocco’s tourist industry, reactions were only a little more guarded. “What happened is a terrible thing for all the people involved,” says Abdou Hamaoui, a 29-year-old civil engineer sipping a glass of lemon Schweppes at the Cafe Glacier on the main square of the city’s old town. “But the U.S. government deserves this.” …
In an outdoor cafe a short drive away, Ahmed Ahmad Tarif, a 21 -year-old business administration student, is wearing a Nike T-shirt He bought it, he says, because it’s good quality, even though he believes that “America stands for racism and for being against freedom and democracy.”
Fellow student Ahmed Hussein, bespectacled and with a thin mustache, reflects for a moment when asked about U.S. economic assistance for Egypt “The money we receive from America and the hatred we feel for America are two separate things,” he finally says, “and should not be mixed together.”7
What I call the “ideology of human rights” will be defined more in detail in chapter 4, but essentially it comes down to the idea that Western states have the right, or the duty, to interfere in the internal affairs of other states in the name of human rights. I use the term “human rights champions” polemically as shorthand for what could be called “self-proclaimed champions of human rights” or “those who base their political action primarily on human rights ideology.”
Finally, in criticizing a power and its legitimization mechanisms, it is one thing to denounce its hypocrisy and quite another to point to the disastrous human consequences of the exercise of power. These are two different things, even if a persistently hypocritical power cannot generally be expected to produce positive results. Even if, as I try to show, the hypocrisy goes deeper than what is usually recognized by the critics, that is not the essential point of my argument, which is mainly concerned with the consequences of imperialism.
My principal aim is to challenge the good conscience that prevails in the West and the ideological convictions that uphold it, and to open a debate within peace, ecological, and progressive movements. If what one wants is a peace policy, the very first thing that must be done is to try to understand others, including the “enemy”—all the more if his reactions are aggressive or irrational. The “war without end” against terrorism gives no sign of being simply a war of short and joyous conquests. And if powerful Western states are repeatedly attacked at home by terrorists, it is to be seriously feared that “the little barque of human reason” may well capsize into the “ocean of insanity”—unless we are willing to radically change our way of envisioning our relations with the rest of the world.