Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Turkey’s prime minister, brutally cracked down on
protesters in Istanbul’s Gezi Park last year, banned Facebook and YouTube,
faced serious allegations of corruption, and, more recently, was caught on
camera slapping a demonstrator. None of this mattered last week as a majority
of Turks made him the country’s first popularly elected president.
A range of 19th-century thinkers from Alexis de Tocqueville to Jacob
Burckhardt warned against putting rabble-rousers exalted by popular vote into
power. The Turkish Teflon leader’s electoral triumph is only the latest
instance of degraded democracy.
An indifference to civil rights and aggressive
Hindu majoritarianism did not prevent — and probably helped — Narendra Modi’s
ascent to India’s highest political office this spring. Russia’s Vladimir Putin
has enjoyed higher approval ratings this year after annexing Crimea and
threatening eastern Ukraine.
Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orban has been
impressed enough to declare that the new “wind blowing from the east” has swept
away the tottering facade of liberal democracy. In an extraordinary turnaround,
Orban, leader of a European Union member state, hopes to emulate the
mini-Caesars of the east as they gratify a widely felt craving among their
peoples for fresh energy and vigor after a period of stagnation.
Perhaps he should also get hold of the rhetorical
toolkit of the original Teflon leader. In his new volume of US social history,
“The Invisible Bridge,” Rick Perlstein describes how a has-been movie actor
with Dean Martin looks and some good sound bites successfully lifted his
countrymen out of their 1970s depression and into a new era of muscular
assertiveness. “People want to believe,” Perlstein writes, and “Ronald Reagan
was able to make people believe.”
Modi’s boasts about his “56-inch chest,” Putin’s
judo moves and Erdogan’s tendency to get physical all aim to pull off Reagan’s
confidence trick. Modi has revived the fantasy of an Indian Century after
economic setbacks and political dysfunction had punctured it. Erdogan promised Turks
an economically vibrant and internationally prominent nation after a long
period of isolation, chaos and unrepresentative regimes. Putin, too, found his
constituency among a humiliated and fearful people; Russia suffered a much
bigger economic crisis and loss of political legitimacy in the 1990s than the
US had in the 1970s.
All three leaders possess ideological bases like
the one Reagan had among Christian fundamentalists and neoconservative
intellectuals. Turkey’s Neo-Ottomanists, Russia’s Eurasianists and India’s
Hindu millenarians assert their geopolitical ambition as boldly as the
Reaganites did. Today, though, there is a greater danger in countries
incubating their own version of the Reagan Revolution: Their political cultures
might shift for the long term to the extreme rather than the center right.
Hungary’s Orban, who is backed by the openly
anti-Semitic Jobbik party, echoes the fascist language of the 1930s when he
says that “The Hungarian nation is not a mere pile of individuals but a
community which needs to be organized, strengthened and built.”
Certainly, liberal opposition in Turkey and Russia
seems helpless before such shrill assertions of national mission and destiny.
Only India, with its social and political diversity, contains the possibility
of a vigorous challenge to Hindu nationalists.
Perhaps economic hurdles — caused by sanctions in
Russia’s case and fundamental weakness in India’s and Turkey’s — will impose
limits upon the megalomania of the tub-thumpers. The specific mode of cultural
politics and propaganda promoted by them will be with us for a long time,
though. Indeed, the Reagan Revolution has endured even as the symptoms of
American decline, first visible in the 1970s, have grown acute again.
But then, rich and powerful nations can afford
their illusions for much longer, and they can shift the harshest consequences
of their blunders — as in Iraq — onto other people. This is not an option for
countries still far from true power and wealth. The elemental struggles of
their peoples for food and water, dignity and freedom, can only be further
complicated — and even thwarted — by sophisticated zealotry.
Local versions of the exasperated query “What’s
the matter with Kansas?” are likely now to be posed in Anatolia and Uttar
Pradesh. “It is a denial of the experience of our century to suppose that men
will sacrifice their passions to their interests,” Raymond Aron wrote in the
1950s. The information revolution since then has hardly made for a more
pragmatic attachment to self-interest. In our own century, elected demagogues
can still seduce men into the large-scale delusions, and occasionally crimes,
of passion.
Pankaj Mishra is a Bloomberg View columnist.
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