The
concept of dictatorship is badly in need of revision. The old model of remote
tyrants inflicting arbitrary, often eccentric, edicts on their cowed or
indoctrinated subjects, with few constraints on their behavior and few threats
to their survival, no longer applies. North Korea’s Kim Jong-un and Syria’s
Bashar al-Assad are two of the few remaining exceptions to a positive trend
that stretches from the rubble of the Reichstag and the Berlin Wall to the
drainage culvert that was the last redoubt of Libya’s Muammar el-Qaddafi. Yet
large and critical swaths of the earth still feature dictatorial rulers, for
whom we need a new model.
This new model must be based on a clear understanding about the rise of
public opinion, which now matters more to dictators than it does even to
democrats. Democratic rulers have only elections to lose if they miscalculate
public opinion. Today’s autocrats, on the other hand, risk their lives, their
power structures, families, assets and loyal advisers if they don’t satisfy
their publics.
Poor information once led to self-justifying delusions on the part of
dictators, who tended to assume exaggerated levels of popular support. Today,
thanks to the refinement of scientific polling and the ubiquitous penetration
of social media and digital devices, public mood need not be assumed; it can be
known, by the day, if not by the hour. Moreover, after witnessing the fall of
the Soviet Union and the Arab Spring, 21st-century autocrats know all too well
that they can be replaced. That combination of hard truths can be a powerful
constraint on dictatorial behavior.
This dilution of authoritarianism is part of a global transition to more
democracy, one that will take time. Yet there are dangers to the rise of public
opinion in autocracies as well. Publics (as well as media) can be more
nationalistic and more populist than those who govern them. Wars may start
because of how publics push nonelected rulers to act based on nationalism and
militarism, even if it is self-defeating.
Just look, for instance, at China.
Chinese Communist Party leader Xi Jinping must contend with social media
and a policy elite that are fiercely nationalistic about depredations against
China by the West and Japan in the late-19th and 20th centuries. This
widespread, deep-seated feeling of grievance encourages more aggressive
posturing in disputes over territories in the South and East China seas.
If Xi were inclined and able to govern as a totalitarian — as Mao
Zedong did — he would not have to consider this nationalist public
opinion. Pragmatic about-faces in policy, as when Mao welcomed Richard Nixon,
might be more possible, and China’s foreign and defense policy might
conceivably be less aggressive, even as it continued quietly to amass a great
navy and air force. But public opinion in China makes it necessary for the
regime to advertise its ambitions more often and openly. That, in turn, has not
only stoked clashes with Vietnam and the Philippines, but also made allies from
Japan to Australia more appreciative of the US role in balancing against China.
And as China goes further into a tumultuous economic transition characterized
by slower growth, the incentive for Xi to dial up nationalism in order to
assuage the public mood will increase.
Public opinion may also constrain the nationalist ambitions of today’s
autocrats. After the pro-Russian regime in Kiev was toppled in early 2014,
Vladimir Putin immediately annexed Crimea, an ethnic Russian peninsula that,
since 1954, had been formally part of Ukraine: After all, Russian public
opinion had demanded no less. Throughout the early stages of the Ukraine
crisis, the more aggressive Putin became, the more his approval rating went up.
Yet the polls also showed that the Russian people were against an all-out war
in Ukraine that risked a substantial loss of life, which Putin has done nothing
to precipitate. Even with the recent upsurge in fighting, falling energy
revenue and a tumbling currency have made Putin more hesitant to stoke more
trouble in Ukraine, Moldova and elsewhere in Eastern Europe, for fear of
tighter economic sanctions that could undermine his public support.
Meanwhile, in Iran, the Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei has to tolerate the
relatively softer approach toward the West of democratically elected President
Hassan Rouhani. Make no mistake, Iran is an authoritarian theocracy, but there
are today competing elite and public views about domestic and foreign affairs.
In Egypt, President Abdel-Fattah el-Sisi must work assiduously to ease
economic hardship on the average Egyptian because the population has already
demonstrated its ability to help remove a ruler. For good reason, El-Sisi is a
far more nervous man than toppled dictator Hosni Mubarak was for much of his
tenure. And in spite of El-Sisi’s best efforts to jail opposition leaders, it
is almost inevitable that eventually public discontent will trigger the return
of protesters to Tahrir Square.
The good news for insecure autocrats is that their people are becoming,
on the whole, more selfish and consequently more averse to struggle. Uprisings
and revolution have occurred in recent years, but in China, Russia and the Gulf
states, as the public becomes more literate, more educated and more wired into
the outside world, they might be reticent to join revolutions. People may be
harder to satisfy, but they still may prefer order over uncertainty.
Because absolute control of the media is hard to accomplish in all but
authentically totalitarian regimes such as North Korea, autocrats will rely on
media strategies that increasingly resemble those of Western politicians. Blogs
and social media platforms such as Twitter are harder to censor than
traditional print media, because of the diffusion of power within this new
media itself and because fast-moving electronic discussions can quickly turn
political. Even as they explore new ways to control the Internet that do not
rely on overt, heavy-handed suppression, autocrats face unprecedented pressure
to compete with other voices in the marketplace of ideas.
In fact, what we are heading toward are mixed regimes that combine
elements of autocracy and democracy, where central power over time becomes more
diluted but individual freedoms are still limited. The traditional,
consultative monarchies of Morocco, Jordan and Oman are supreme examples of
this. They go back decades and hundreds of years, yet are postmodern in their
way. Decisions are made only after consultations with tribal and other power
centers. Since the Arab uprisings of 2011, these types of regimes have fared
much better than the presidential tyrannies of Libya, Syria and Iraq that
eviscerated all forms of political and communal expression except for the
regime at the top and the family and tribe at the bottom.
Despite the trend toward mixed regimes, the West will continue to find
it difficult to engineer freer political systems from afar. To prod these mixed
regimes in the right direction, Western actors need to encourage the hard work
of consultative institution-building and the willingness to rule through
compromise. The development of these governance skills, which takes time, is
critical to ensure the endurance of transitioning governments.
The choice is not between toppling dictatorships and going home. We
cannot invent stabilizing traditions simply by exporting our principles, but we
should work over time with local actors — citizens, civil society, judges,
lawyers, police, journalists — to make these systems more free, and to
encourage the transition to mixed regimes that advance individual opportunity.
Ultimately, even in a world where public opinion has greater sway, democracy’s
advocates will have to nudge a bit, in order to create an environment where the
dilution of dictatorship happens internally, forced by public pressures and
changing global norms.
Robert D. Kaplan is a senior fellow at the Center for a New American
Security. Dafna H. Rand is the deputy director of studies at the Center
for a New American Security.
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