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The Economist
July 24, 2004
U.S. Edition
King Mikhail the good?;
Nationalism
The persistence of nationalism in ex-communist hot spots is a puzzle
Georgia's leader may succeed as a nationalist who believes in law
CAN there be such a thing as a good nationalist, in regions where
violent chauvinism - asserting the interests of one nation, ethnic
group or faith at the expense of all others - has already taken a
terrible toll in blood? In the wilder bits of the ex-communist world,
that is something more than just a brain-teaser for political
scientists.
Mikhail Saakashvili, the charismatic young president of Georgia, is
trying to persuade the world that this question has an affirmative
answer (see page 33). Since taking power half a year ago, he has
tugged hard on his people's patriotic heart-strings. He has devised
new state symbols and displayed them prominently; and he can deliver
thumping nationalist speeches when the occasion demands.
But in fairness, Mr Saakashvili has also been quite careful to tell
the world, and his compatriots, what his gestures do and do not mean.
He does want to extend the writ of Georgian government to the whole
of its territory, including the breakaway South Ossetia region; but
he has pledged to deal generously and inclusively with non-Georgian
minorities, amounting to at least 30% of the population. That is in
healthy contrast to the early years of Georgian independence.
Boris Tadic, the new Serbian president, is another pro-western
politician who knows how to beat the patriotic drum. At his
inauguration this month, he caused a sensation by playing Serbia's
monarchist anthem, "God of Justice" - not heard in official places for
many decades - and pointedly kissing the Serbian flag. Nobody suspects
Mr Tadic of being an ultra-nationalist, but he clearly feels he must
assuage his compatriots who do lean in that direction.
For the western institutions that have spent billions of dollars
trying to exorcise the demon of chauvinism from the Balkans and the
Caucasus - and to promote the idea that nations and ethnic groups must
co-operate to solve their post-communist problems - the persistence of
nationalism is a puzzle and a disappointment. Bosnia's protectors are
frustrated by the fact that after eight years of foreign tutelage,
politics there is still dominated by parties which assert the
interests of one ethnic group - Muslim, Serb or Croat - rather than the
whole country. Meanwhile, Kosovo's protectors would rejoice if
Albanians and Serbs merely stopped killing each other; a wave of
anti-Serb violence in March was a severe setback. In the Caucasus,
years of international mediation have brought the conflict between
Armenians and Azeris no closer to a solution, and there is a powerful
lobby in Azerbaijan which favours going back to war.
Given that nationalism shows no sign of disappearing, can there be a
meaningful distinction between the "good" and "bad" varieties? Here
is one possible litmus test: is nationalism being used to promote the
rule of law, or to defy it?
At its mildest, nationalism can be a galvanising force, and perhaps a
necessary device, for any leader who is struggling to construct a
law-based state in places where government of any kind has all but
collapsed. That is what Mr Saakashvili says he wants: if he can turn
his ramshackle polity into a minimally efficient machine for
collecting tax, providing services and guarding its citizens, then it
should automatically earn people's loyalty - whatever their ethnic
background.
At the other extreme, nationalism has often been a cover for exactly
the opposite: policies which stir up hatred both inside and outside a
country's borders, and use the resulting conflict as a smokescreen
for behaviour which mocks the rule of law - stealing from the public
purse, robbing the victims of war and maintaining irregular armies
which live off larceny. In the chaos, and above all uncertainty over
property rights, which followed the collapse of communism, the
anti-law variety of nationalism was an irresistible temptation for
politicians who wanted to play on people's fears and grab a share of
the loot. Serbia's strongman, Slobodan Milosevic, was perhaps the
prime exponent of this tactic - but by no means the only one. From the
Adriatic to Central Asia, the politics of the ex-communist world have
been marred by warlords who steal or smuggle while exercising
authority in the name of tribal, national or ethnic sentiment.
If Mr Saakashvili can prove that his nationalism is of the
law-promoting, rather than the law-scoffing kind, then he will have
performed a valuable service - not just for his own country, but for
all the hard-pressed policymakers who are wondering how to put
conflict zones together again.
July 24, 2004
U.S. Edition
King Mikhail the good?;
Nationalism
The persistence of nationalism in ex-communist hot spots is a puzzle
Georgia's leader may succeed as a nationalist who believes in law
CAN there be such a thing as a good nationalist, in regions where
violent chauvinism - asserting the interests of one nation, ethnic
group or faith at the expense of all others - has already taken a
terrible toll in blood? In the wilder bits of the ex-communist world,
that is something more than just a brain-teaser for political
scientists.
Mikhail Saakashvili, the charismatic young president of Georgia, is
trying to persuade the world that this question has an affirmative
answer (see page 33). Since taking power half a year ago, he has
tugged hard on his people's patriotic heart-strings. He has devised
new state symbols and displayed them prominently; and he can deliver
thumping nationalist speeches when the occasion demands.
But in fairness, Mr Saakashvili has also been quite careful to tell
the world, and his compatriots, what his gestures do and do not mean.
He does want to extend the writ of Georgian government to the whole
of its territory, including the breakaway South Ossetia region; but
he has pledged to deal generously and inclusively with non-Georgian
minorities, amounting to at least 30% of the population. That is in
healthy contrast to the early years of Georgian independence.
Boris Tadic, the new Serbian president, is another pro-western
politician who knows how to beat the patriotic drum. At his
inauguration this month, he caused a sensation by playing Serbia's
monarchist anthem, "God of Justice" - not heard in official places for
many decades - and pointedly kissing the Serbian flag. Nobody suspects
Mr Tadic of being an ultra-nationalist, but he clearly feels he must
assuage his compatriots who do lean in that direction.
For the western institutions that have spent billions of dollars
trying to exorcise the demon of chauvinism from the Balkans and the
Caucasus - and to promote the idea that nations and ethnic groups must
co-operate to solve their post-communist problems - the persistence of
nationalism is a puzzle and a disappointment. Bosnia's protectors are
frustrated by the fact that after eight years of foreign tutelage,
politics there is still dominated by parties which assert the
interests of one ethnic group - Muslim, Serb or Croat - rather than the
whole country. Meanwhile, Kosovo's protectors would rejoice if
Albanians and Serbs merely stopped killing each other; a wave of
anti-Serb violence in March was a severe setback. In the Caucasus,
years of international mediation have brought the conflict between
Armenians and Azeris no closer to a solution, and there is a powerful
lobby in Azerbaijan which favours going back to war.
Given that nationalism shows no sign of disappearing, can there be a
meaningful distinction between the "good" and "bad" varieties? Here
is one possible litmus test: is nationalism being used to promote the
rule of law, or to defy it?
At its mildest, nationalism can be a galvanising force, and perhaps a
necessary device, for any leader who is struggling to construct a
law-based state in places where government of any kind has all but
collapsed. That is what Mr Saakashvili says he wants: if he can turn
his ramshackle polity into a minimally efficient machine for
collecting tax, providing services and guarding its citizens, then it
should automatically earn people's loyalty - whatever their ethnic
background.
At the other extreme, nationalism has often been a cover for exactly
the opposite: policies which stir up hatred both inside and outside a
country's borders, and use the resulting conflict as a smokescreen
for behaviour which mocks the rule of law - stealing from the public
purse, robbing the victims of war and maintaining irregular armies
which live off larceny. In the chaos, and above all uncertainty over
property rights, which followed the collapse of communism, the
anti-law variety of nationalism was an irresistible temptation for
politicians who wanted to play on people's fears and grab a share of
the loot. Serbia's strongman, Slobodan Milosevic, was perhaps the
prime exponent of this tactic - but by no means the only one. From the
Adriatic to Central Asia, the politics of the ex-communist world have
been marred by warlords who steal or smuggle while exercising
authority in the name of tribal, national or ethnic sentiment.
If Mr Saakashvili can prove that his nationalism is of the
law-promoting, rather than the law-scoffing kind, then he will have
performed a valuable service - not just for his own country, but for
all the hard-pressed policymakers who are wondering how to put
conflict zones together again.