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The writer is a contributing editor at the Financial Times, head of the Center for Liberal Strategies in Sofia, and a fellow at IWM Vienna
In an old joke, two fortune tellers meet, and after a few minutes of respectful silence one says to the other: “Looking into the future, I see you'll be fine. But what about me?”
I was reminded of this story when, at a recent public talk in Vienna, an audience member asked me how a liberal-minded European could be so optimistic about Europe's future at this moment.
The questioner has a point. In the wake of Donald Trump's victory in the US presidential election, with wars in Ukraine and the Middle East, struggling with a faltering economy and fear of immigration, Europeans are beginning to resemble Chance, the character in Hal Ashby's film. Being there.
In a role brilliantly played by the late Peter Sellers, Chance lives away, tending the mansion's garden and watching television.
When he is finally expelled and forced to face the real world, he is soon attacked by a knife-wielding thug. The only response he can muster is to take the TV remote out of his pocket and try to change the channel. Chance of survival. However, we should not take the future of the European Union for granted.
In recent years, Europe He was busy trying to defend a status quo that had in fact long since ended, and speaking a language that was no longer understood. I've wasted energy and money trying to restore a world that won't come back.
Now European democracies are on the verge of nervous collapse. They are simultaneously threatened by voter anger and elite panic. Voters dream of punishing the elites, while the establishment hopes to be able to calm voters.
The recent decision by Romania's Constitutional Court to annul the results of the first round of the presidential election because of alleged foreign interference – but perhaps also because the ruling parties did not like the results – suggests that elite panic could get even more serious. Voter anger. On the other hand, attempts by governments to rally national unity in the face of external threats have failed to convince people to rally around the flag.
The only way for liberal-minded Europeans to overcome their pessimism is to try to understand how and why they were betrayed by their excessive optimism at the end of the Cold War. Until they realize how misplaced this “end of history” triumphalism is, they will be haunted by the specter of things falling apart.
If we look at 1989 in retrospect, it no longer represents the high noon of liberalism. It was actually also a very promising year for radical Islam. That year, the Islamic insurgency (in Afghanistan) defeated a superpower (the Soviet Union) for the first time. The withdrawal of Soviet forces from Afghanistan turned out to be transformative, not only for Islamists, but also for ordinary Russians.
When the independent Levada Center asked Russians in 2019 how they defined 1989, most pointed to the humiliation of the Soviet withdrawal, not, say, Poland's first free elections in more than 40 years or the fall of the Berlin Wall. It is not the end of communism, but Moscow's loss of the superpower mystique that shaped Russians' memories of 1989.
If we look from today's point of view, the resilience of the communist regime in China is a more important historical marker than the failure of communism in Europe. Moreover, the rise of so-called middle powers such as India, Turkey, and Brazil constitutes a more important force in shaping the new order. Geopolitical The spectacle of the frequently cited rivalry between the United States and China.
Likewise, technology and demographics – our relationship with artificial intelligence and fear of population shrinkage and aging – will henceforth be more decisive factors in shaping national politics than the ideological struggle between democracy and authoritarianism.
The most important thing that happened in 1989 may turn out to be the departure of 17-year-old Elon Musk from his native South Africa. It is clear that his experience as a young white man in the final years of apartheid helped shape his current political outlook. Musk's evocation of the violence of everyday life in 1980s South Africa resonates with Trump's dystopian vision of contemporary America. What alternative is there but to find a way to Mars?
Dancing to ever-changing tunes can be exhausting for liberal-minded Europeans, but it can also be liberating. When people look decades later at 2024, Trump's victory or the rise of authoritarianism around the world will likely not seem as significant as they do now. The lesson that Europeans must understand is that history is not married to anyone, but rather one and takes many lovers. So don't panic.
