Citizens of the World Unite?

Pete Peterson

Defending Identity: Its Indispensable Role in Protecting Democracy by Natan Sharansky (New York: PublicAffairs, 2008), 304 pages.

The website Adbusters recently closed the application period for one of the more interesting design competitions on the web. Their “One Flag” contest solicited concepts, “free from language and well-worn clichés—that embodies the idea of global citizenship.” As the site promises, the “winning flag will go into production, ready for flying by the patriotic citizens of earth”—an ironic turn of phrase, as the word “patriotic” derives from the Greek patris meaning “fatherland.” Could it be that we are seeing a call for loyalty to “Father Earth”?

The subject of national and cultural identity has received increasing attention in the countless discussions of globalization, gaining new popularity when our recently elected president announced to a crowd of over 200,000 Europeans last summer that he was a “citizen of the world.”

Natan Sharansky’s latest book, Defending Identity, calls this sort of globalization a post-national ideology and challenges it directly. He argues that “without a strong identity, without a commitment to a particular way of life, without a feeling of connection to the generations who come before and to those who will come after, there can be enjoyment of life, but not the strength to defend that life when it is endangered.” For Sharansky, the former Deputy Prime Minister of Israel, and currently its Minister of Jerusalem Affairs, a quest for global citizenship inexorably leads to a geopolitical question: is there a place for a Jewish state of Israel in a post-identity world?

In establishing the main theme of this volume—the importance of joining democratic freedom with cultural identity—Sharansky moves out from his last effort, The Case for Democracy. That book, which President George W. Bush made famous (or infamous) by saying it informed his foreign policy worldview, was criticized for the simplistic view that democratic regimes are almost innately peaceful. In Defending Identity, Sharansky appears, albeit briefly, to have been sobered by the Iraq War, noting how the importance of tribal and religious (Sunni vs. Shia) identities in Iraq were not adequately accounted for by the Bush Administration, and how this worked against the creation of a national democratic state. In fact, Sharansky touches on the subject in only one page of the entire book (p. 230), in which he offers, “After liberating Iraq from Saddam’s tyrannical regime, the U.S.-led coalition failed to realize the fragility of national Iraq identity.”

Defending Identity begins as an intensely personal journey. The author credits his identification with his Jewish faith for his survival from almost a decade’s imprisonment in a Siberian prison camp. As the years dragged on in the gulag, the Soviet dissident learned that only those who with strong core personalities (based in either nationalism, religious faith, or family heritage) could resist the incessant oppression and questioning of prison guards. Sharansky writes, “The reality of prison life was that, in the end, you discover that the people you could rely on were those who were strong in spirit and strong in identity, not necessarily people who shared your own particular identity or who belonged to the same faith or cause.” The importance of identity in these most stressful circumstances was the ironic turn that it provided a refuge that was both distinctly personal and connective: “You refuse to succumb to the fear of death by refusing to succumb to the fear of being alone in the world. Instead, you think of the values that extend beyond you, of your connection to others, of the vision you share in common.”

At the crucial turn in the book, Sharansky extrapolates from the lessons impressed upon him in Siberia: “In prison, I learned that without a commitment beyond yourself, the fear of death will inevitably control you. What is true for an individual is true for a society.”

Sharansky argues that the attempt to disconnect prisoners from all outside identities was not just a prison-camp control tactic. It fit naturally with the goals of Marxism, the first significant political philosophy centered on creating a post-national world. But the author is deft to point out that the current move toward post-identity is a step further than even the heady goals of Marxism: “Marxism offers a universalist, absolutist approach and a specific goal of a classless society. Post-identity, in contrast, tends to be deeply relativist. Marxism is political; post-identity is cultural.”

Sharansky buttresses this point with an interesting historic reference to Stalin’s changing the national anthem during the throes of World War II from the “Internationale” to the rather cumbersome, but distinct, “Great Russia that built for ever this unconquerable union of people.” It is for times of national crisis, then, that Sharansky posits the need for strong national and cultural identities, concluding that aggressors with a vital sense of themselves (from Nazi Germany to al Qaeda) will win out against those who do not possess any set of common cultural characteristics. This danger is particularly acute for democratic regimes, where so much freedom is offered to citizens to define themselves apart from national or regional identities. Plus, in a Tocquevillian turn, the usually concomitant financial wealth in democracies draws citizens away from dependence on nationalist conceptions. As Sharansky concludes, “a negative side effect of the good life available in democratic societies is that it can often weaken the very strength to fight for it.”

The formation of the European Union becomes for Sharansky the political embodiment of this post-national mode. He quotes the French foreign policy expert Dominique Moisi as declaring, “We feel betrayed by God and by nationalism, which is why we are building the European Union as a barrier to religious warfare.”

As in The Case for Democracy, Sharansky can be faulted for oversimplifying at several points. After all, strong economies, militaries, and intelligence agencies are fairly important elements in national survival too, but he makes compelling points throughout about the qualities that undergird each of these. As Sharansky pleads, “the best defense of the free world will come from those who cherish a unique way of life, for they will always have a life truly worth defending.”

But herein lies the central question to both Sharansky’s theory and book—put briefly, “how local is local?” At what point does a nation-state attempt to encompass too many cultures, religions, and identities? If the European Union is too large, would a tripartite Iraq, divided along cultural/religious lines (the plan developed by Vice President Biden), be too small? Sharansky attempts to answer these questions by positing a public philosophy involving a respect for—even a celebration of—various cultures within national boundaries, but without ever qualifying how broad the boundaries should be set. He compares American and French responses to the wearing of veils by Muslim girls in public schools: “Whereas in France expressions of identity in such public spaces are seen as a threat to democracy, in America expressions of identity are seen as acts that are protected by the norms of democratic life.” Again, limits on these cultural expressions are not discussed, and various American cases like the Muslim cab drivers in Minnesota who refused to transport alcohol-toting passengers, and a myriad of others that have arisen in recent years, are not mentioned.

Finally, while Sharansky allows that this desire for localized attachments—whether cultural, religious, or national—is a natural human impulse, he never addresses the equally natural longing for more global, universal relationships. This yearning for a “brotherhood of mankind” has been a powerful force throughout human history—politically, culturally, and religiously. Some would date it back to the Greek philosopher Diogenes, who first used the word, “cosmopolitan” to describe himself, saying he was a “citizen of the world.” But it also has antecedents in American history, most famously with Thomas Paine. It has launched a number of murderous movements as men from Stalin to bin Laden have attempted to “immanetize the eschaton.”

But rather than discount these efforts outright by listing their obvious failings in the political arena, Sharansky’s argument might be better served by acknowledging them in their right place. As an example, in his letter to the church in Colosse, the apostle Paul described the Christian church: “Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.” But he never said that there should not be Greeks in Greece nor Scythians in Scythia. Paul frequently uses the term “citizenship” for believers, transcending national boundaries, but he also commands us to follow and support local authorities. In this, Paul challenges the Christian church to assume its rightful place as a more befitting purveyor purveyor of global citizenship. In a more ecumenical sense, this same notion could be applied to other global faith communities as well. As the world continues to “flatten” through high-speed communications and travel, the ability to both celebrate our unique cultures and faiths, while connecting in appropriate global spaces, will be a significant challenge in the twenty-first century.  

Pete Peterson is a Lecturer on State and Local Governance at Pepperdine’s School of Public Policy.

1 Responses (comments are closed) • Reviews, Being Human, Public Square, Religious Liberty, Society, War and Peace, Wed 11 Feb 2009