March 1992
Published originally in the March, 1992 issue of The Atlantic
Monthly. Revised as the introduction to Jihad Versus McWorld (Times
Books, 1995), a volume that discusses and extends the themes of the original
article. Not to be reproduced in any form without the premission of the author.
These two tendencies are sometimes visible in the same countries at the
same instant: thus Yugoslavia, clamoring just recently to join the New Europe,
is exploding into fragments; India is trying to live up to its reputation as
the world's largest integral democracy while powerful new fundamentalist
parties like the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party, along with
nationalist assassins, are imperiling its hard-won unity. States are breaking
up or joining up: the Soviet Union has disappeared almost overnight, its parts
forming new unions with one another or with like-minded nationalities in
neighboring states. The old interwar national state based on territory and
political sovereignty looks to be a mere transitional development.
The tendencies of what I am here calling the forces of Jihad and the forces
of McWorld operate with equal strength in opposite directions, the one driven
by parochial hatreds, the other by universalizing markets, the one re-creating
ancient subnational and ethnic borders from within, the other making national
borders porous from without. They have one thing in common: neither offers
much hope to citizens looking for practical ways to govern themselves
democratically. If the global future is to pit Jihad's centrifugal whirlwind
against McWorld's centripetal black hole, the outcome is unlikely to be
democratic--or so I will argue.
McWorld, Or The Globalization of Politics
Four imperatives make up the dynamic of McWorld: a market imperative, a
resource imperative, an information-technology imperative, and an ecological
imperative. By shrinking the world and diminishing the salience of national
borders, these imperatives have in combination achieved a considerable victory
over factiousness and particularism, and not least of all over their most
virulent traditional form--nationalism. It is the realists who are now
Europeans, the utopians who dream nostalgically of a resurgent England or
Germany, perhaps even a resurgent Wales or Saxony. Yesterday's wishful cry for
one world has yielded to the reality of McWorld.
The market imperative. Marxist and Leninist theories of imperialism
assumed that the quest for ever-expanding markets would in time compel
nation-based capitalist economies to push against national boundaries in
search of an international economic imperium. Whatever else has happened to
the scientistic predictions of Marxism, in this domain they have proved
farsighted. All national economies are now vulnerable to the inroads of
larger, transnational markets within which trade is free, currencies are
convertible, access to banking is open, and contracts are enforceable under
law. In Europe, Asia, Africa, the South Pacific, and the Americas such markets
are eroding national sovereignty and giving rise to entities--international
banks, trade associations, transnational lobbies like OPEC and Greenpeace,
world news services like CNN and the BBC, and multinational corporations that
increasingly lack a meaningful national identity--that neither reflect nor
respect nationhood as an organizing or regulative principle.
The market imperative has also reinforced the quest for international peace
and stability, requisites of an efficient international economy. Markets are
enemies of parochialism, isolation, fractiousness, war. Market psychology
attenuates the psychology of ideological and religious cleavages and assumes a
concord among producers and consumers--categories that ill fit narrowly
conceived national or religious cultures. Shopping has little tolerance for
blue laws, whether dictated by pub-closing British paternalism,
Sabbath-observing Jewish Orthodox fundamentalism, or no-Sunday-liquor-sales
Massachusetts puritanism. In the context of common markets, international law
ceases to be a vision of justice and becomes a workaday framework for getting
things done--enforcing contracts, ensuring that governments abide by deals,
regulating trade and currency relations, and so forth.
Common markets demand a common language, as well as a common currency, and
they produce common behaviors of the kind bred by cosmopolitan city life
everywhere. Commercial pilots, computer programmers, international bankers,
media specialists, oil riggers, entertainment celebrities, ecology experts,
demographers, accountants, professors, athletes--these compose a new breed of
men and women for whom religion, culture, and nationality can seem only
marginal elements in a working identity. Although sociologists of everyday
life will no doubt continue to distinguish a Japanese from an American mode,
shopping has a common signature throughout the world. Cynics might even say
that some of the recent revolutions in Eastern Europe have had as their true
goal not liberty and the right to vote but well-paying jobs and the right to
shop (although the vote is proving easier to acquire than consumer goods). The
market imperative is, then, plenty powerful; but, notwithstanding some of the
claims made for "democratic capitalism," it is not identical with the
democratic imperative.
The resource imperative. Democrats once dreamed of societies whose
political autonomy rested firmly on economic independence. The Athenians
idealized what they called autarky, and tried for a while to create a way of
life simple and austere enough to make the polis genuinely self-sufficient. To
be free meant to be independent of any other community or polis. Not even the
Athenians were able to achieve autarky, however: human nature, it turns out,
is dependency. By the time of Pericles, Athenian politics was inextricably
bound up with a flowering empire held together by naval power and commerce--an
empire that, even as it appeared to enhance Athenian might, ate away at
Athenian independence and autarky. Master and slave, it turned out, were bound
together by mutual insufficiency.
The dream of autarky briefly engrossed nineteenth-century America as well,
for the underpopulated, endlessly bountiful land, the cornucopia of natural
resources, and the natural barriers of a continent walled in by two great seas
led many to believe that America could be a world unto itself. Given this
past, it has been harder for Americans than for most to accept the
inevitability of interdependence. But the rapid depletion of resources even in
a country like ours, where they once seemed inexhaustible, and the
maldistribution of arable soil and mineral resources on the planet, leave even
the wealthiest societies ever more resource-dependent and many other nations
in permanently desperate straits.
Every nation, it turns out, needs something another nation has; some
nations have almost nothing they need.
The information-technology imperatve. Enlightenment science and the
technologies derived from it are inherently universalizing. They entail a
quest for descriptive principles of general application, a search for
universal solutions to particular problems, and an unswerving embrace of
objectivity and impartiality.
Scientific progress embodies and depends on open communication, a common
discourse rooted in rationality, collaboration, and an easy and regular flow
and exchange of information. Such ideals can be hypocritical covers for
power-mongering by elites, and they may be shown to be wanting in many other
ways, but they are entailed by the very idea of science and they make science
and globalization practical allies.
Business, banking, and commerce all depend on information flow and are
facilitated by new communication technologies. The hardware of these
technologies tends to be systemic and integrated--computer, television, cable,
satellite, laser, fiber-optic, and microchip technologies combining to create
a vast interactive communications and information network that can potentially
give every person on earth access to every other person, and make every datum,
every byte, available to every set of eyes. If the automobile was, as George
Ball once said (when he gave his blessing to a Fiat factory in the Soviet
Union during the Cold War), "an ideology on four wheels," then electronic
telecommunication and information systems are an ideology at 186,000 miles per
second--which makes for a very small planet in a very big hurry. Individual
cultures speak particular languages; commerce and science increasingly speak
English; the whole world speaks logarithms and binary mathematics.
Moreover, the pursuit of science and technology asks for, even compels,
open societies. Satellite footprints do not respect national borders;
telephone wires penetrate the most closed societies. With photocopying and
then fax machines having infiltrated Soviet universities and samizdat
literary circles in the eighties, and computer modems having multiplied like
rabbits in communism's bureaucratic warrens thereafter, glasnost could
not be far behind. In their social requisites, secrecy and science are
enemies.
The new technology's software is perhaps even more globalizing than its
hardware. The information arm of international commerce's sprawling body
reaches out and touches distinct nations and parochial cultures, and gives
them a common face chiseled in Hollywood, on Madison Avenue, and in Silicon
Valley. Throughout the 1980s one of the most-watched television programs in
South Africa was The Cosby Show. The demise of apartheid was already in
production. Exhibitors at the 1991 Cannes film festival expressed growing
anxiety over the "homogenization" and "Americanization" of the global film
industry when, for the third year running, American films dominated the awards
ceremonies. America has dominated the world's popular culture for much longer,
and much more decisively. In November of 1991 Switzerland's once insular
culture boasted best-seller lists featuring Terminator 2 as the No. 1
movie,Scarlett as the No. 1 book, and Prince's Diamonds and
Pearls as the No. 1 record album. No wonder the Japanese are buying
Hollywood film studios even faster than Americans are buying Japanese
television sets. This kind of software supremacy may in the long term be far
more important than hardware superiority, because culture has become more
potent than armaments. What is the power of the Pentagon compared with
Disneyland? Can the Sixth Fleet keep up with CNN? McDonald's in Moscow and
Coke in China will do more to create a global culture than military
colonization ever could. It is less the goods than the brand names that do the
work, for they convey life-style images that alter perception and challenge
behavior. They make up the seductive software of McWorld's common (at times
much too common) soul.
Yet in all this high-tech commercial world there is nothing that looks
particularly democratic. It lends itself to surveillance as well as liberty,
to new forms of manipulation and covert control as well as new kinds of
participation, to skewed, unjust market outcomes as well as greater
productivity. The consumer society and the open society are not quite
synonymous. Capitalism and democracy have a relationship, but it is something
less than a marriage. An efficient free market after all requires that
consumers be free to vote their dollars on competing goods, not that citizens
be free to vote their values and beliefs on competing political candidates and
programs. The free market flourished in junta-run Chile, in military-governed
Taiwan and Korea, and, earlier, in a variety of autocratic European empires as
well as their colonial possessions.
The ecological imperative. The impact of globalization on ecology is
a cliche even to world leaders who ignore it. We know well enough that the
German forests can be destroyed by Swiss and Italians driving gas-guzzlers
fueled by leaded gas. We also know that the planet can be asphyxiated by
greenhouse gases because Brazilian farmers want to be part of the twentieth
century and are burning down tropical rain forests to clear a little land to
plough, and because Indonesians make a living out of converting their lush
jungle into toothpicks for fastidious Japanese diners, upsetting the delicate
oxygen balance and in effect puncturing our global lungs. Yet this ecological
consciousness has meant not only greater awareness but also greater
inequality, as modernized nations try to slam the door behind them, saying to
developing nations, "The world cannot afford your modernization; ours
has wrung it dry!"
Each of the four imperatives just cited is transnational, transideological,
and transcultural. Each applies impartially to Catholics, Jews, Muslims,
Hindus, and Buddhists; to democrats and totalitarians; to capitalists and
socialists. The Enlightenment dream of a universal rational society has to a
remarkable degree been realized--but in a form that is commercialized,
homogenized, depoliticized, bureaucratized, and, of course, radically
incomplete, for the movement toward McWorld is in competition with forces of
global breakdown, national dissolution, and centrifugal corruption. These
forces, working in the opposite direction, are the essence of what I call
Jihad.
Jihad, Or The Lebanonization Of The World
OPEC, the World Bank, the United Nations, the International Red Cross, the
multinational corporation...there are scores of institutions that reflect
globalization. But they often appear as ineffective reactors to the world's
real actors: national states and, to an ever greater degree, subnational
factions in permanent rebellion against uniformity and integration--even the
kind represented by universal law and justice. The headlines feature these
players regularly: they are cultures, not countries; parts, not wholes; sects,
not religions; rebellious factions and dissenting minorities at war not just
with globalism but with the traditional nation-state. Kurds, Basques, Puerto
Ricans, Ossetians, East Timoreans, Quebecois, the Catholics of Northern
Ireland, Abkhasians, Kurile Islander Japanese, the Zulus of Inkatha,
Catalonians, Tamils, and, of course, Palestinians--people without countries,
inhabiting nations not their own, seeking smaller worlds within borders that
will seal them off from modernity.
A powerful irony is at work here. Nationalism was once a force of
integration and unification, a movement aimed at bringing together disparate
clans, tribes, and cultural fragments under new, assimilationist flags. But as
Ortega y Gasset noted more than sixty years ago, having won its victories,
nationalism changed its strategy. In the 1920s, and again today, it is more
often a reactionary and divisive force, pulverizing the very nations it once
helped cement together. The force that creates nations is "inclusive," Ortega
wrote in The Revolt of the Masses. "In periods of consolidation,
nationalism has a positive value, and is a lofty standard. But in Europe
everything is more than consolidated, and nationalism is nothing but a
mania..."
This mania has left the post-Cold War world smoldering with hot wars; the
international scene is little more unified than it was at the end of the Great
War, in Ortega's own time. There were more than thirty wars in progress last
year, most of them ethnic, racial, tribal, or religious in character, and the
list of unsafe regions doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. Some new world
order!
The aim of many of these small-scale wars is to redraw boundaries, to
implode states and resecure parochial identities: to escape McWorld's dully
insistent imperatives. The mood is that of Jihad: war not as an instrument of
policy but as an emblem of identity, an expression of community, an end in
itself. Even where there is no shooting war, there is fractiousness,
secession, and the quest for ever smaller communities. Add to the list of
dangerous countries those at risk: In Switzerland and Spain, Jurassian and
Basque separatists still argue the virtues of ancient identities, sometimes in
the language of bombs. Hyperdisintegration in the former Soviet Union may well
continue unabated--not just a Ukraine independent from the Soviet Union but a
Bessarabian Ukraine independent from the Ukrainian republic; not just Russia
severed from the defunct union but Tatarstan severed from Russia. Yugoslavia
makes even the disunited, ex-Soviet, nonsocialist republics that were once the
Soviet Union look integrated, its sectarian fatherlands springing up within
factional motherlands like weeds within weeds within weeds. Kurdish
independence would threaten the territorial integrity of four Middle Eastern
nations. Well before the current cataclysm Soviet Georgia made a claim for
autonomy from the Soviet Union, only to be faced with its Ossetians (164,000
in a republic of 5.5 million) demanding their own self-determination within
Georgia. The Abkhasian minority in Georgia has followed suit. Even the good
will established by Canada's once promising Meech Lake protocols is in danger,
with Francophone Quebec again threatening the dissolution of the federation.
In South Africa the emergence from apartheid was hardly achieved when friction
between Inkatha's Zulus and the African National Congress's tribally
identified members threatened to replace Europeans' racism with an indigenous
tribal war. After thirty years of attempted integration using the colonial
language (English) as a unifier, Nigeria is now playing with the idea of
linguistic multiculturalism--which could mean the cultural breakup of the
nation into hundreds of tribal fragments. Even Saddam Hussein has benefited
from the threat of internal Jihad, having used renewed tribal and religious
warfare to turn last season's mortal enemies into reluctant allies of an Iraqi
nationhood that he nearly destroyed.
The passing of communism has torn away the thin veneer of internationalism
(workers of the world unite!) to reveal ethnic prejudices that are not only
ugly and deep-seated but increasingly murderous. Europe's old scourge,
anti-Semitism, is back with a vengeance, but it is only one of many
antagonisms. It appears all too easy to throw the historical gears into
reverse and pass from a Communist dictatorship back into a tribal state.
Among the tribes, religion is also a battlefield. ("Jihad" is a rich word
whose generic meaning is "struggle"--usually the struggle of the soul to avert
evil. Strictly applied to religious war, it is used only in reference to
battles where the faith is under assault, or battles against a government that
denies the practice of Islam. My use here is rhetorical, but does follow both
journalistic practice and history.) Remember the Thirty Years War? Whatever
forms of Enlightenment universalism might once have come to grace such
historically related forms of monotheism as Judaism, Christianity, and Islam,
in many of their modern incarnations they are parochial rather than
cosmopolitan, angry rather than loving, proselytizing rather than ecumenical,
zealous rather than rationalist, sectarian rather than deistic, ethnocentric
rather than universalizing. As a result, like the new forms of
hypernationalism, the new expressions of religious fundamentalism are
fractious and pulverizing, never integrating. This is religion as the
Crusaders knew it: a battle to the death for souls that if not saved will be
forever lost.
The atmospherics of Jihad have resulted in a breakdown of civility in the
name of identity, of comity in the name of community. International relations
have sometimes taken on the aspect of gang war--cultural turf battles
featuring tribal factions that were supposed to be sublimated as integral
parts of large national, economic, postcolonial, and constitutional entities.
The Darkening Future of Democracy
These rather melodramatic tableaux vivants do not tell the whole story,
however. For all their defects, Jihad and McWorld have their attractions. Yet,
to repeat and insist, the attractions are unrelated to democracy. Neither
McWorld nor Jihad is remotely democratic in impulse. Neither needs democracy;
neither promotes democracy.
McWorld does manage to look pretty seductive in a world obsessed with
Jihad. It delivers peace, prosperity, and relative unity--if at the cost of
independence, community, and identity (which is generally based on
difference). The primary political values required by the global market are
order and tranquillity, and freedom--as in the phrases "free trade," "free
press," and "free love." Human rights are needed to a degree, but not
citizenship or participation--and no more social justice and equality than are
necessary to promote efficient economic production and consumption.
Multinational corporations sometimes seem to prefer doing business with local
oligarchs, inasmuch as they can take confidence from dealing with the boss on
all crucial matters. Despots who slaughter their own populations are no
problem, so long as they leave markets in place and refrain from making war on
their neighbors (Saddam Hussein's fatal mistake). In trading partners,
predictability is of more value than justice.
The Eastern European revolutions that seemed to arise out of concern for
global democratic values quickly deteriorated into a stampede in the general
direction of free markets and their ubiquitous, television-promoted shopping
malls. East Germany's Neues Forum, that courageous gathering of intellectuals,
students, and workers which overturned the Stalinist regime in Berlin in 1989,
lasted only six months in Germany's mini-version of McWorld. Then it gave way
to money and markets and monopolies from the West. By the time of the first
all-German elections, it could scarcely manage to secure three percent of the
vote. Elsewhere there is growing evidence that glasnost will go and
perestroika--defined as privatization and an opening of markets to
Western bidders--will stay. So understandably anxious are the new rulers of
Eastern Europe and whatever entities are forged from the residues of the
Soviet Union to gain access to credit and markets and technology--McWorld's
flourishing new currencies--that they have shown themselves willing to trade
away democratic prospects in pursuit of them: not just old totalitarian
ideologies and command-economy production models but some possible indigenous
experiments with a third way between capitalism and socialism, such as
economic cooperatives and employee stock-ownership plans, both of which have
their ardent supporters in the East.
Jihad delivers a different set of virtues: a vibrant local identity, a
sense of community, solidarity among kinsmen, neighbors, and countrymen,
narrowly conceived. But it also guarantees parochialism and is grounded in
exclusion. Solidarity is secured through war against outsiders. And solidarity
often means obedience to a hierarchy in governance, fanaticism in beliefs, and
the obliteration of individual selves in the name of the group. Deference to
leaders and intolerance toward outsiders (and toward "enemies within") are
hallmarks of tribalism--hardly the attitudes required for the cultivation of
new democratic women and men capable of governing themselves. Where new
democratic experiments have been conducted in retribalizing societies, in both
Europe and the Third World, the result has often been anarchy, repression,
persecution, and the coming of new, noncommunist forms of very old kinds of
despotism. During the past year, Havel's velvet revolution in Czechoslovakia
was imperiled by partisans of "Czechland" and of Slovakia as independent
entities. India seemed little less rent by Sikh, Hindu, Muslim, and Tamil
infighting than it was immediately after the British pulled out, more than
forty years ago.
To the extent that either McWorld or Jihad has a natural politics,
it has turned out to be more of an antipolitics. For McWorld, it is the
antipolitics of globalism: bureaucratic, technocratic, and meritocratic,
focused (as Marx predicted it would be) on the administration of things--with
people, however, among the chief things to be administered. In its
politico-economic imperatives McWorld has been guided by laissez-faire market
principles that privilege efficiency, productivity, and beneficence at the
expense of civic liberty and self-government.
For Jihad, the antipolitics of tribalization has been explicitly
antidemocratic: one-party dictatorship, government by military junta,
theocratic fundamentalism--often associated with a version of the
Führerprinzip that empowers an individual to rule on behalf of a
people. Even the government of India, struggling for decades to model
democracy for a people who will soon number a billion, longs for great
leaders; and for every Mahatma Gandhi, Indira Gandhi, or Rajiv Gandhi taken
from them by zealous assassins, the Indians appear to seek a replacement who
will deliver them from the lengthy travail of their freedom.
The Confederal Option
How can democracy be secured and spread in a world whose primary tendencies
are at best indifferent to it (McWorld) and at worst deeply antithetical to it
(Jihad)? My guess is that globalization will eventually vanquish
retribalization. The ethos of material "civilization" has not yet encountered
an obstacle it has been unable to thrust aside. Ortega may have grasped in the
1920s a clue to our own future in the coming millennium.
Jihad may be a last deep sigh before the eternal yawn of McWorld. On the
other hand, Ortega was not exactly prescient; his prophecy of peace and
internationalism came just before blitzkrieg, world war, and the Holocaust
tore the old order to bits. Yet democracy is how we remonstrate with reality,
the rebuke our aspirations offer to history. And if retribalization is
inhospitable to democracy, there is nonetheless a form of democratic
government that can accommodate parochialism and communitarianism, one that
can even save them from their defects and make them more tolerant and
participatory: decentralized participatory democracy. And if McWorld is
indifferent to democracy, there is nonetheless a form of democratic government
that suits global markets passably well--representative government in its
federal or, better still, confederal variation.
With its concern for accountability, the protection of minorities, and the
universal rule of law, a confederalized representative system would serve the
political needs of McWorld as well as oligarchic bureaucratism or meritocratic
elitism is currently doing. As we are already beginning to see, many nations
may survive in the long term only as confederations that afford local regions
smaller than "nations" extensive jurisdiction. Recommended reading for
democrats of the twenty-first century is not the U.S. Constitution or the
French Declaration of Rights of Man and Citizen but the Articles of
Confederation, that suddenly pertinent document that stitched together the
thirteen American colonies into what then seemed a too loose confederation of
independent states but now appears a new form of political realism, as
veterans of Yeltsin's new Russia and the new Europe created at Maastricht will
attest.
By the same token, the participatory and direct form of democracy that
engages citizens in civic activity and civic judgment and goes well beyond
just voting and accountability--the system I have called "strong
democracy"--suits the political needs of decentralized communities as well as
theocratic and nationalist party dictatorships have done. Local neighborhoods
need not be democratic, but they can be. Real democracy has flourished in
diminutive settings: the spirit of liberty, Tocqueville said, is local.
Participatory democracy, if not naturally apposite to tribalism, has an
undeniable attractiveness under conditions of parochialism.
Democracy in any of these variations will, however, continue to be
obstructed by the undemocratic and antidemocratic trends toward uniformitarian
globalism and intolerant retribalization which I have portrayed here. For
democracy to persist in our brave new McWorld, we will have to commit acts of
conscious political will--a possibility, but hardly a probability, under these
conditions. Political will requires much more than the quick fix of the
transfer of institutions. Like technology transfer, institution transfer rests
on foolish assumptions about a uniform world of the kind that once fired the
imagination of colonial administrators. Spread English justice to the colonies
by exporting wigs. Let an East Indian trading company act as the vanguard to
Britain's free parliamentary institutions. Today's well-intentioned
quick-fixers in the National Endowment for Democracy and the Kennedy School of
Government, in the unions and foundations and universities zealously nurturing
contacts in Eastern Europe and the Third World, are hoping to democratize by
long distance. Post Bulgaria a parliament by first-class mail. Fed Ex the Bill
of Rights to Sri Lanka. Cable Cambodia some common law.
Yet Eastern Europe has already demonstrated that importing free political
parties, parliaments, and presses cannot establish a democratic civil society;
imposing a free market may even have the opposite effect. Democracy grows from
the bottom up and cannot be imposed from the top down. Civil society has to be
built from the inside out. The institutional superstructure comes last. Poland
may become democratic, but then again it may heed the Pope, and prefer to
found its politics on its Catholicism, with uncertain consequences for
democracy. Bulgaria may become democratic, but it may prefer tribal war. The
former Soviet Union may become a democratic confederation, or it may just grow
into an anarchic and weak conglomeration of markets for other nations' goods
and services.
Democrats need to seek out indigenous democratic impulses. There is always
a desire for self-government, always some expression of participation,
accountability, consent, and representation, even in traditional hierarchical
societies. These need to be identified, tapped, modified, and incorporated
into new democratic practices with an indigenous flavor. The tortoises among
the democratizers may ultimately outlive or outpace the hares, for they will
have the time and patience to explore conditions along the way, and to adapt
their gait to changing circumstances. Tragically, democracy in a hurry often
looks something like France in 1794 or China in 1989.
It certainly seems possible that the most attractive democratic ideal in
the face of the brutal realities of Jihad and the dull realities of McWorld
will be a confederal union of semi-autonomous communities smaller than
nation-states, tied together into regional economic associations and markets
larger than nation-states--participatory and self-determining in local matters
at the bottom, representative and accountable at the top. The nation-state
would play a diminished role, and sovereignty would lose some of its political
potency. The Green movement adage "Think globally, act locally" would actually
come to describe the conduct of politics.
This vision reflects only an ideal, however--one that is not terribly
likely to be realized. Freedom, Jean-Jacques Rousseau once wrote, is a food
easy to eat but hard to digest. Still, democracy has always played itself out
against the odds. And democracy remains both a form of coherence as binding as
McWorld and a secular faith potentially as inspiriting as Jihad.
The two axial principles of our age--tribalism and
globalism--clash at every point except one: they may both be threatening to
democracy
Just beyond the horizon of current events lie two
possible political futures--both bleak, neither democratic. The first is a
retribalization of large swaths of humankind by war and bloodshed: a
threatened Lebanonization of national states in which culture is pitted
against culture, people against people, tribe against tribe--a Jihad in the
name of a hundred narrowly conceived faiths against every kind of
interdependence, every kind of artificial social cooperation and civic
mutuality. The second is being borne in on us by the onrush of economic and
ecological forces that demand integration and uniformity and that mesmerize
the world with fast music, fast computers, and fast food--with MTV, Macintosh,
and McDonald's, pressing nations into one commercially homogenous global
network: one McWorld tied together by technology, ecology, communications, and
commerce. The planet is falling precipitantly apart and coming
reluctantly together at the very same moment.
"Everyone sees the need of a new principle of life. But as
always happens in similar crises--some people attempt to save the situation
by an artificial intensification of the very principle which has led to
decay. This is the meaning of the 'nationalist' outburst of recent
years....things have always gone that way. The last flare, the longest; the
last sigh, the deepest. On the very eve of their disappearance there is an
intensification of frontiers--military and economic."
Benjamin R. Barber is Whitman Professor of Political Science and director
of the Whitman Center at Rutgers University and the author of many books
including Strong Democracy (1984), An Aristocracy of Everyone
(1992), and Jihad Versus McWorld (Times Books, 1995).
Copyright © 1992 by Benjamin R. Barber. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; March 1992; Jihad Vs. McWorld; Volume 269, No. 3;
pages 53-65