Lessons Learned / Mike Turpin
An idiot abroad
It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried. -- Winston Churchill
My father recently sent me an online geographic quiz that required that I assign the names of countries to more than 30 nations that make up the strategic region we broadly refer to as The Middle East. The area remains a radioactive Jenga stack of oil rich nations stretching from arid Northern Africa, through the southern and northern Gulf states into a creche of red-headed newborns known as the "Stans." Despite my time working and traveling across this area, I was surprised how confused I was over where everybody actually lives.
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As a young adult, I suffered from the normal provincialism that afflicts many West Coast Americans. I was disinterested in Europe's Rubik's Cube of nations that seemed like aging actresses -- temperamental and well past their prime. My orientation to the shifting sands of Middle Eastern geo-politics was ancient maps of Mesopotamia, odd and even days for sitting in line for gasoline during the '70s oil embargo and a strange production monopoly called OPEC which sounded like CHAOS, the evil organization bent on world anarchy in the TV show, "Get Smart." To me, everything beyond North America was a wasteland of sand, bananas and crumbling infrastructure.
The U.S. seemed mired in perpetual Middle Eastern Peace Talks. When the Iran and the Shah fell, I asked my father why we had such a keen interest in what happened to this regime. It was in our national interests, my father explained, to always have a hand in the Middle East. When my militant older brother scoffed at the notion that U.S. had a right to interfere with the politics of another sovereign nation simply because it coveted its natural resources, my father quickly put him in his place. "Would you rather have the Russians or the Chinese calling the shots? You'll be paying $3 for a gallon of gas before you know it, mister."
It was a time of Cold War, cartels and counter-espionage. The battle for the soul of the modern world was distilled to a point where one could either sip from the West's grail shining with its thousand points of light or toss back a shot from the community based cup of socialism.
It all seemed so clear. There were good guys and bad guys. The West extended invitations to enjoy liberty while Communism took away your right to decide. The world was not a colorful mural of elementary school book cultures and happy independent countries but a canvas to be fought over -- and ultimately covered by the brush stokes of red or white ideologies.
In college, I read Hayek's "The Road To Serfdom," published in 1944, which reinforced the notion that any society that mistakenly yields to a vision of collectivism eventually degrades into totalitarianism. Hayek's thesis contended that any "vanguard" form of socialistic or fascist government is eventually corrupted by its own power and never fully yields to society the self-governance it has promised to transition. When there is a void of social and political power, it is not filled by utopian democracy but instead by absolute control. Hayek warned that citizens willing to cede personal liberties or greater dependence on entitlements provided by a larger, more prescriptive government led to the same end -- serfdom. Democracy was the fragile middle ground between bankrupt liberalism and suffocating fascism.
The danger of equipping an 18-year-old with Hayek is you create a libertarian with anarchist tendencies. In the mid-80s, it was a time of conservatism and I became an opinionated critic of our foreign policy in Central America and Monroe Doctrine unilateralism. I was armed with a powerful arsenal of convenient academic views that I had gathered in earnest in class rooms, lectures and in left-wing coffee houses.
Years later, while living and working in Europe, I realized that I had become, what comedian Ricky Gervais coined, "an idiot abroad." My apologist views were simple on issues that remained highly complex. I had never visited many of the nations of whom I had such devout opinions. As I traveled the Middle East, I came to view these nations as ancient ceramics broken by two World Wars -- only to be haphazardly reconstructed across deep tribal fissures and religious fault lines.
In England, I met a post-colonial empire with a richer past than future. British history in the Middle East was embodied in the tumultuous 1800s when colonialism sewed the seeds for WWI. A great global land rush began for control of resource rich, weaker nations in strategic locations across the globe. Britain, Spain, Russia, England, Japan, Austria-Hungary, Germany, Belgium, France and the U.S., all rationalized that these underdeveloped countries would benefit profoundly from Western culture, infrastructure and oversight. In 1918, while the Ottoman Empire was receding from Europe, leaving pools of ethnic conflict and seeds of internecine war, the Austro-Hungarian Empire ceased to exist, and an impoverished Germany would witness the slow strangulation of the Weimar Republic and the rise of the national socialist party.
Most historians contend that while the Treaty of Versailles marked the end of the fighting of WWI, it only served as the mid-way point in a political and ideological war that dates back to the Crusades. The ideological war between Islam and the West inflamed with the birth of Israel and was fanned as communism and democracy waged a dozen proxy wars across the globe. Many still argue that WWII did not really end until the fall of the Berlin Wall.
In time, colonialism revealed its ugly underbelly. In "King Leopold's Ghost," the world read about the crushing repression of Belgian colonialism as the tiny European nation raped the Congo of its rubber and respect, plunging the African nation into a darkness from which has still to recover. Many world powers ultimately fashioned the snare that would entrap their own feet. The French were bloodied in Tunisia and Algeria. The British were driven from India and Palestine. Russia became ensnared in Afghanistan and across the Balkans. The U.S. left 55,000 dead in Vietnam. Western interests in the Middle East, Africa, Central America, South America and the Pacific Rim began to unravel as smaller protectorates sought self governance and strived to drive out their protectors.
As we watch the wild-fire of social protest sweep through the Middle East and North Africa, many of us are filled with a mixture of dread, elation and anticipation. As each nation's army serves either as a vanguard for a transitional government or a hammer to shatter rising resistance, many are uncertain how to distinguish between protecting our interests and indulging the drum beat for democracy.
As protesters rush head long into the center of Manama, Bahrain, there is a growing angst building across a world that runs on fossil fuel and has keen interest in a region that has delivered as much stability as the San Andreas Fault. Each day is now filled with inspired Berlin Wall moments and at the same time, trepidation as firebrand clerics and moderates compete for the hearts and minds of a population where 50 percent are under 20 years old.
2011 is the year of living dangerously and we are not sure what to make of it. Some credit former President George W, Bush with threading the first fragile filament of democracy through Iraq so that it might illuminate a region shadowed by the permanent twilight of autocratic and fundamentalist regimes. Detractors of the war in Iraq draw no comparisons and feel these protests are a natural result of human social evolution. They argue that any sustainable change -- whether personal or collective -- arises from within and does not normally come about as a result of outside influences attempting to be a catalyst for change. Still others argue that certain regions will always need despots `lest they fracture into sectarian violence and civil war. So, how can one tell a good despot from a bad one? Is it the shoes?
Broken nations, like the proverbial fish, rot first from the head. Broken nations begin with broken governments. Most of the world's 6.9 billion people want the same thing -- peace, economic opportunity, freedom and legal certainty. For this idiot -- now at home, I am uncertain whether one can achieve the underpinnings to support a free society without some form of democratic government. However, in the process of allowing for majority rule, one must always be prepared for alternative forms of government -- coalitions, theocracies and even forms of socialism. The strictly American part of my brain wants the best of all scenarios -- democratic allies whose economic and global aspirations mute their more fundamentalist minorities. The social activist part of my brain wants to support the process however it plays out.
Some find it hard to condemn Yemen, Libya and Iran's violent reactions to protesters while condoning Qatar's, Bahrain's and possibly Jordan, Syria and Saudi Arabia's future hard-line responses to those who seek to end decades of autocracy, oligopoly, monarchy or theocracy. Does the pursuit of national security trump the sovereignty of any other nations? Is nation-building only work when the nation is constructed in your own image? Do some of us just need to grow up and face the facts that we must always have a hand in this part of the world?
After all these years, I remain, faithfully, an idiot. I am always left with more questions. While some have come to see the world through a black and white lens, my sunglasses only see shades of gray. One can only imagine what it must be like to be our President. All eyes are watching and the answers are about as clear as a viscous pool of oil.