Dominique Moisi: France’s Midsummer Night’s Dream

PARIS – Bastille Day, the French national holiday, was glorious this year. The military parade, dominated by the celebration of “victory” in Mali and the joint participation of African and United Nations troops, had the perfection of a gracious, albeit muscular, ballet.

The classical concert that preceded the magisterial fireworks that ended the day was the closest thing to a French version of the Proms in London, mixing light classical and popular songs. The Eiffel Tower imbued the evening with its magic. Paris, in case anyone had any lingering doubts, remains the capital of the world – or so it seemed for a night.

The melancholia that began to seize France many years ago was all but forgotten. The celebration of the glory of the past, mixed with popular English songs of the present, seemed to indicate renewed national confidence. What was the meaning of this moment of grace? Was it purely the product of a collective delusion, an emotional Potemkin village of sorts, encouraged, if not conceived, by the authorities to restore some level of self-assurance among France’s depressed citizens?

Even if the positive emotions remain only fleeting (as seems most likely), they were real and palpable. The French seemed to be in the mood to celebrate. Of course, it could simply have been the weather; a gorgeous summer has finally settled in after a miserable spring.

But it might also have been one of those natural turning points, a collective and spontaneous decision to say: “Enough of depression, let’s move on.” We French may not be what we used to be, the celebrants seemed to be saying, but we are still much more than people think we are. We have a great revolutionary past that still conveys universal values – liberty, equality, fraternity – and an army that, as in Mali, continues to make a difference in the world.

One can draw two lessons from this collective form of escapism. The first is that, beyond the many layers of depression and distrust in France, there is potential for a new and collective departure. This would require, of course, less cynical political elites who can transcend their petty ambitions and divisions for the sake of the country.

The second lesson, even more obvious, is that reality cannot be changed with a simple public spectacle. France is not Imperial Rome, where panem et circenses made a fundamental difference. It is a weakened democracy mired in an economic and social crisis so deep that it verges on becoming an identity crisis.

The proof was provided by a third traditional event on Bastille Day, between the morning’s military parade and the evening’s music and fireworks: President François Hollande’s speech to the nation, which took the form of an interview with two prominent journalists. He, too, was in a reassuring mood.

According to Hollande, the economic upturn – la reprise – had just started, and hope was around the corner. His tone and message had changed. He was no longer the “normal man” of his election campaign and tenure until now; instead, he tried to present himself, like his predecessor, Nicolas Sarkozy, as a superhero.

Of course, given his personality and low public-approval ratings, his address was the least convincing event of the day. Who could have said with certainty that the economic upturn announced by Hollande was real rather than aspirational? Beyond his message’s wishful thinking, the public’s reaction to the messenger was a mixture of disbelief and indifference.

Seeing the behavior of friends, all French, listening with me to Hollande, I was reminded of another moment. It was December 31, 1989, and I was in the Soviet Union. I had found myself in a restaurant in the old city of Suzdal, listening to President Mikhail Gorbachev’s “New Year wishes.”

I was moved: The man who symbolized glasnost and perestroika, who had allowed the peaceful emancipation of most of Eastern and Central Europe, was speaking. But I was alone in paying attention to him. The restaurant’s customers, like my French friends now, could not have cared less. Their president had become background noise.

Has Hollande become, in this sense, a French Gorbachev? For the left and the Greens, he is close to being a traitor. These voters chose him a year ago not only because he was not Sarkozy, but because he incarnated the values of the true left, even if his centrist moderation seemed a bad omen. Voters of the center or even the center-right are disappointed, too, by their president’s lack of charisma, if not sheer incompetence.

After a year of Hollande, France is witnessing a fundamental political revolution. During the half-century of the Fifth Republic, a bipartisan system of left and right has traditionally prevailed. But now France is becoming a country dominated by a “tripartite system” of more or less equal strength: the left, the right, and the extreme right.

If France wants to capitalize on the positive emotions of Bastille Day, it needs much more responsible elites, ready to unite in the fight against unemployment and its causes (lack of competitiveness and labor-market rigidity) and consequences (the rise of populist, non-republican forces). What Bastille Day revealed, even briefly and superficially, is that the potential to unite France exists. But doing so requires more than shallow promises.

 Dominique Moisi is Senior Adviser at The French Institute for International Affairs (IFRI) and a professor at L'Institut d’études politiques de Paris (Sciences Po). He is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope are Reshaping the World.

Dominique Moisi: Hollande in Mali

PARIS – While hundreds of thousands demonstrated in Paris against the right of homosexual couples to marry and adopt children, French troops were arriving in Mali to stop a coalition of Islamist and rebel forces from taking control of its capital, Bamako, and creating in the Sahel a sanctuary for terrorists.

These are trying times for French President François Hollande. Besieged economically at home, where his popularity is at its lowest since his election last year, can he regain credibility, if not support, as supreme commander of French forces?

Once upon a time, “I intervene, therefore I am” might as well have been a French motto, particularly in Africa. But, while French national identity is intimately bound up with France’s international standing – how it is perceived in the world – enthusiasm for intervention has receded. The benefits have become more dubious, while the costs and risks have grown increasingly evident.

If France has again become a regional gendarme by default, it is largely for three reasons. American enthusiasm for intervention in Africa has greatly diminished since the operation in Somalia in 1992-1993 – and more globally following the long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. European interest in military intervention in Africa is as low as ever. And, as for the region’s governments, it would be an understatement to say that they are not yet ready militarily to take their fate into their own hands.

While France is not alone – manifestations of support have come from its Western and African partners, as well as from the Middle East – it will bear the primary responsibility and the risks. For Islamic fundamentalists, France is now the “Great Satan.”
Indeed, the conflict in Mali is taking place geographically in Africa, but in many ways its causes and ramifications lie in the Middle East. When France intervened in an African country in the past, there was no risk of terrorist attacks on its territory or on its citizens elsewhere in the world. That is no longer the case.

It is too early to say what will happen in Mali or the Sahel – or, for that matter, in France itself. For the moment, the French are standing, overwhelmingly, behind Hollande. They would have criticized him had he remained passive while Bamako fell into the hands of terrorists. Yet this support may be fragile, and could collapse if something goes wrong on the ground – or, worse, in France.

Before the intervention, Mali was not a French priority. Rising unemployment at home seemed to be a more urgent task than did addressing instability in Africa. While the French public agrees that Mali cannot be allowed to become a haven for terrorists, the way Afghanistan did in the late 1990’s, attitudes toward intervention have evolved in recent decades. In the early 1980’s, after a particularly bloody terrorist attack on French and American forces in Lebanon, France’s tolerance for military casualties seemed much higher than that of the United States. But this has changed. The French now find themselves on the front line at a time when they have much less appetite for it.

Moreover, budget restrictions have severely constrained French military capabilities. French and British military intervention was successful in Libya in 2011 at least in part as a result of US military procurement.

Of course, from a French perspective, the US role is somewhat ironic. In the years after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, the Americans always had to be on the front line – battling the enemy abroad to avoid having to battle him at home, in the parlance of the time – while the European allies were perceived as the cleaning staff. But imperial fatigue after Iraq and Afghanistan has left its imprint. Americans are starting to enjoy – probably too much for their allies – what President Barack Obama, describing the US role in Libya, called “leading from behind.”

For Hollande, war in Mali is both an opportunity and a risk. If Nicolas Sarkozy, whom he defeated, was widely regarded as “too” presidential, Hollande has given the impression of not being presidential “enough.” His fall from public grace – too statist and fiscally intrusive for the right, but too moderate and social democratic for the true left – was more rapid than that of any president of the Fifth Republic. Of course, with unemployment rising every month, it is difficult to remain popular for long.

As the supreme commander of an army at war, Hollande can now try to reinvent himself. But, successive presidents since Jacques Chirac have failed to reconcile the French with politics. France’s citizens have tended to expect too much from their state, and now they may be expecting too little from politics and politicians at a time when deep divisions on fundamental economic and social issues run not only between the traditional right and left, but also within both camps.

Will foreign intervention reunite the French? Will war in Africa be the defining moment of Hollande’s presidency? Will he be remembered as the French Harry Truman – a discreet, uncharismatic man who, when faced with urgent and dramatic circumstances, ended up doing the right things for lack of a better alternative?

This is a portentous moment both for Mali and for security in the Sahel and Europe. It is no less significant for Hollande and France.

Dominique Moisi is Senior Adviser at IFRI (The French Institute for International Affairs) and a professor at L'Institut d’études politiques de Paris (Sciences Po). He is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope are Reshaping the World.

Dominique Moisi: France’s Election by Default

PARIS – Rousseau versus Hobbes: on the cover of the French magazine Philosophie, the two leading contenders in France’s upcoming presidential election, the incumbent Nicolas Sarkozy and the Socialist candidate François Hollande, are dressed up accordingly. “The real presidential contest” according to the magazine, pits the consensual and contractual vision of Rousseau (Hollande) against the violent “every man is a wolf to his fellow man” vision of Hobbes (Sarkozy).

Philospophie’s take on the French presidential election may contain some truth, but reality is far more prosaic – and far less intellectual. To understand the complexities of the race and Sarkozy’s recent (but still relative) surge, sports might be a better reference point than philosophy.

Consider Hollande’s strategy in soccer terms. Having scored early (establishing a lead in public-opinion polls), he has found himself in the position of an Italian coach practicing the “catenaccio” tactics of 20 years ago – a purely defensive strategy to keep Sarkozy from coming back. It might work, but it has also contributed to the tedium of Hollande’s campaign and the growing lack of enthusiasm for his person.

Hollande wanted so much to stress his “normality” compared to the excesses of Sarkozy’s character that he ended up appearing banal. As a result, he has found himself hemmed in by the crypto-revolutionary aura of the far-left candidate, Jean-Luc Melenchon, and Sarkozy’s hyper-energetic dynamism.

Mohammed Merah’s killing spree in Toulouse in March has also worked in favor of Sarkozy, who has been happy to shift the electoral debate from social injustice to security issues.
But, even if Sarkozy looks stronger now than he did at the beginning of the election campaign, the challenges he faces remain formidable, and may be impossible to overcome.

Never in the history of the Fifth Republic has the same partisan majority won a presidential contest more than three times in succession. Sarkozy’s re-election, following his victory in 2007 and Jacques Chirac’s triumphs in 1995 and 2002, would mean a fourth consecutive victory for the Gaullist right, which would be all the more remarkable in view of the economic situation in France, Europe, and the world.

Beyond these structural and historical factors, there is the issue of personalities. In this regard, the contest is not so much between Hobbes and Rousseau as between Bonaparte and Clement Attlee, the famously dull post-war British prime minister (of whom Churchill once said “he has much to be modest about”). In other words, the election may simply become a contest between rejection of Sarkozy and lack of passion for Hollande. As a result, abstention – usually remarkably low in French presidential elections – may play a major role.

In the meantime, regret can be sensed across the political spectrum. “If only we could have a more presentable candidate than Sarkozy,” mumble conservatives. “If only we could have a more charismatic candidate than Hollande,” comes the refrain from the Socialist camp.

Ultimately, this campaign will prove remarkable for the lack of serious attention paid to the candidates’ programs. The French perceive no real difference between an incumbent who has not kept his promises and a challenger whose promises are untenable. A suicidal denial of reality seems to unite the candidates and their supporters, best formulated as follows: “Don’t address serious issues, such as the national debt, during the election campaign, and we will not expect you to confront them seriously when you are in power.”

Consider the recent cover of The Economist, which depicts Sarkozy and Hollande as the two male characters in Manet’s famous painting “Déjeuner sur l’Herbe” (Lunch on the Grass). Surrounded by naked women, they are supposed to illustrate the “French art of life” that France can no longer afford.

Where is Churchill and his call to arms, effort, and sacrifice? Is France preparing to waste another five years, regardless of the election’s outcome?

Of course, in strong winds and high seas, the experience of the ship’s captain matters. Yet, given the problems of the French economy and the constraints of the European Union, not to mention those of the world economy in a global age, no president will have much room for maneuver.

Dominique Moisi is the founder of the French Institute of International Affairs (IFRI) and a professor at Institute d’Etudes Politiques (Sciences Po) in Paris. He is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope are Reshaping the World.

Dominique Moisi: Sarkozy at Dusk / 日薄西山的薩爾科齊

PARIS – And the next French President will be…the Socialist Party’s candidate François Hollande. A month ago, any prediction uttered with such certainty would have sounded imprudent, if not foolish. Uncertainty prevailed. Four candidates dominated the competition, and no one would have dared to predict which two will make it to the second-round run-off. Indeed, the race looked more open than ever in recent memory.

Suddenly, something happened – not an event in itself (though it started with Hollande’s first great public rally in mid-January), but rather something that may resemble an irresistible process that can be summarized as follows: a majority of the French want to punish a president who has fallen from their graces.

They might not have dared to do so had they not found a reasonably credible alternative. Hollande, by appearing more sound and determined than most French voters thought he was, has given a voice (and a face) to a widespread desire to reject the incumbent, Nicolas Sarkozy.

That is not to say that Hollande is charismatic. On the contrary, there remain lingering doubts about his gravitas, not to mention serious concerns about the realism or the wisdom of his program. But, unlike his former companion, Ségolène Royal, who challenged Sarkozy for the presidency in 2007, he looks and sounds “real.”

From now on, the campaign appears set to be transformed into a classic left-right struggle, but with a major difference between the two main candidates’ strategies. Hollande wants to turn the presidential election into a referendum on Sarkozy, who, given his unpopularity, is seeking to frame the battle in terms of values and experience.

Indeed, the essence of Sarkozy’s campaign message has become: “You might not like me personally (you would be wrong, by the way, because I am not as you see me, and my experience in power has transformed me deeply), but you support my conservative values, because they represent what you really think. In a world that is changing so rapidly and brutally, you need stability and reassurance. I can give you that.”

By emphasizing the ideological divide between him and Hollande, Sarkozy is also being led to court, more openly than ever, the extreme-right electorate of Marine Le Pen’s National Front, as if he sensed that she might not find enough signatures to qualify for a place on the ballot. This strategy may make sense in the first round, but, by attracting extreme-right voters in the first round, Sarkozy could lose the support of centrist voters in the run-off. They might be willing to vote for “experience,” but not for a “Christian conservative” who strays from humanistic values.

In any case, one could argue that the French are being unfair toward their president. Sarkozy has had to confront exceptionally difficult circumstances, and his record is far from poor. At the beginning of his term, France was at the helm of the European Union, and he proved to be a skillful leader. Understanding the gravity of the economic crisis that erupted in 2008, he reacted swiftly and with considerable energy. He has also launched a major and long-overdue reform of the pension system and higher education. He made the right choices in intervening in Côte d’Ivoire and Libya.

One could easily add more such examples. In brief, Sarkozy has sincerely tried to reform a deeply paralyzed country. And he cannot be held responsible for high unemployment, given the depth of the world crisis.

Yet, barring a last-minute miracle – a major mistake by Hollande that wrecks his credibility, or a fresh bout of crisis that stokes voters’ desire for reassuring continuity at the top – Sarkozy appears condemned to be the second one-term president in the history of the Fifth Republic, following Valéry Giscard d’Estaing.

In 1981, Giscard was defeated largely as a result of the “betrayal” of his former prime minister, Jacques Chirac, who ran against him. In 2012, no one in Sarkozy’s camp is betraying the president (those who are trying, such as former Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin, have received no support). It is Sarkozy himself who has betrayed the hopes of his supporters and consolidated the hostility of his opponents.

Sarkozy did so mostly at the very beginning of his presidency, and he is likely to be punished for it in 2012. He has changed for the better, but only up to a point, and clearly not enough for a majority of the French, who, according to recent public-opinion polls, simply cannot stand the idea of having him on their television screens for another five years.

Of course, as former British Prime Minister Harold Wilson used to say, “a week is a long time in politics,” and Sarkozy will officially become a candidate only this week. Yet it will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for him to prevent the upcoming election from becoming an emotional and negative referendum on his persona.

Dominique Moisi is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion

 

Dominique Moisi: 日薄西山的薩爾科齊

巴黎——下一任法國總統是……社會黨候選人弗朗索瓦·奧朗德（François Hollande）。倘若是在一個月前，任何如此言之鑿鑿的預測如果不被視為愚蠢的話，至少也是不明智。當時情況十分不明朗，四位候選人佔據了整場競選，沒人敢預測究竟哪倆位將會進入到下一輪。事實上，這是一場比以往都更加充滿各種可能性的競爭。

但突然之間，發生了某些事件——不僅僅是事件本身（雖然在歐朗德在一月中旬發起的第一次大游行之時就已初露端倪），而是某些看似不可扭轉的進程，一言以蔽之：大多數法國人想要懲罰那個辜負了他們一番苦心的總統。

但直到找到了一個合理且可靠的代替者之前，選民們是不會這樣做的。而奧朗德，這個比大多數法國人想象中更好也更有決心的人，為這種廣泛存在於人民心中的渴求提供了一種聲音（以及一個面孔）——讓如今的當政者，尼古拉·薩爾科齊，下台走人。

這並不是說奧朗德是個特別有魅力的人。恰恰相反，坊間依然存在著許多對此人品行的質疑，更別提其政綱是否可行或合理。但跟其在2007年時與薩爾科齊爭奪總統之位的前搭檔賽格琳·羅雅爾（Ségolène Royal）不同的是，奧朗德無論是看上去還是聽上去都特別“真實”。

從今以後，整場競選似乎注定要轉變成為一場經典的左右之爭，但兩大候選人的戰略卻存在著一個重要區別。奧朗德試圖將大選變為一場針對薩科齊的全民公決，而失去了民望的後者卻想將這場鬥爭局限為一場價值觀與經驗之爭。

事實上，薩爾科齊的競選活動正是想傳達這麼一條核心信息：“你可能不太喜歡我這個人（其實你錯了，因為我並不僅僅是你眼中的我，多年的執政經驗已經使我發生了深刻的轉變），但你會支持我的保守主義價值觀，因為這才是你內心的訴求。在這個急劇變化的世界上你需要穩定和信心，而這也是我所能給予的。”

通過強調自己與歐朗德之間的意識形態差異，薩爾科齊甚至走的更遠，起了打瑪琳·勒龐(Marine Le Pen)的國民陣線黨那批極右翼選民的主意，因為他估計勒龐無法得到足夠的支持去在選舉中佔一席之地。這一策略或許能在第一輪湊效，但在吸引了那批極右翼選民之後，薩科齊很可能會在下一輪選舉中失去中間派選民的支持。他們或許願意為他“富有經驗”投一票，卻不投給一個偏離了人道價值的“基督教保守主義者”。

無論如何，都有人會爭辯說法國人對自己的總統有點不公平。薩爾科齊在執政期間遭遇了極端困難的情況，而他的表現也可圈可點。在其任期之初恰逢法國擔任歐盟輪值主席國，而薩爾科齊也証明了自己是個有政治手腕的領導人物。在意識到2008年經濟危機的嚴重性之後，他迅速做出反應並做出了相當多的努力。他啟動了對養老金和高等教育方面一直久拖不決的重大改革，在介入科特迪瓦和利比亞事務也做出了正確的選擇。

你可以輕易地找出類似的例子。一言以蔽之，薩爾科齊確實真心想要改革法國這個陷入層層癱瘓的國家，而鑒於嚴峻的全球危機，也不應該將當前的高失業率全怪罪到他一人身上。

但除非在最後一刻出現了奇跡——比如奧朗德犯下了自毀信譽的大錯，或者新一輪危機的侵襲使得選民將保持連續性重新放到了第一位，否則薩爾科齊將很可能步吉斯卡爾·德斯坦（Valéry Giscard d’Estaing）的後塵，成為法蘭西第五共和國歷史上第二位只幹了一屆就下台的總統。

然而吉斯卡爾1981年的連任失利在很大程度上要歸因於其前總理雅克·希拉克的“背叛”，最終被後者取而代之。但今年薩科齊陣營並未出現叛徒（雖然也有前總理德維爾潘這樣的人試圖倒戈，但都未能得到民眾支持），而真正背叛其支持者並使其反對者團結一致的，正是薩科齊自己。

這些怨恨大多是在薩爾科齊任期剛開始時結下，而他也將在2012年為此付出代價。他的變革改善了整體狀況，但顯然尚未達到令大多數法國人滿意的程度。據最近一項民調顯示，這些民眾已經無法忍受在電視屏幕上再看他五年。

當然，正如英國前首相哈羅德·威爾遜（Harold Wilson）所言，“就政治而言，一星期都嫌長，”而薩爾科齊也將在這一週內正式成為一名候選人。雖然極端困難, 卻並非不可能, 他可避免一場對他公眾形象充滿著負面情緒的公投。

Dominique Moisi是《情感的地緣政治》一書的作者

Dominique Moisi: Democracy in Distress / 困境中的民主

PARIS – Is democratic time too slow to respond to crises, and too short to plan for the long term?

At a time of deepening economic and social crisis in many of the world’s rich democracies, that question is highly relevant. In Italy, for example, Prime Minister Mario Monti has the necessary and legitimate ambition to carry out comprehensive reform. He is both competent and honest, but faces a quasi-structural impediment: whereas leaders once had three years to convince voters of their policies’ benefits, they now have three hours to convince global financial markets to back their approach.

Caught between Italian legislators who, deep down, do not understand that change and markets in quest of near-immediate certainties, can Monti transcend his natural prudence and act with sufficient clarity and decisiveness?

In the United States, too, the political system is becoming increasingly dysfunctional. The political philosopher Francis Fukuyama goes so far as to say that “vetocracy” could triumph over democracy, regardless of who wins the 2012 presidential election. The separation of powers, a principle established by the US founders under the influence of philosophers such as Montesquieu, is leading today to near-paralysis.

Democracies suffer not only from their slow reaction time at moments of crisis, but also from the difficulty that they face in projecting themselves into the future and planning for the long term. On both sides of the Atlantic, political leaders know what they must do for their countries, but don’t know how to get re-elected if they actually do it. They seem to be structurally condemned to short-termism.

But it is not because democracies have a “time problem” that their era seems to some to be over. China is rightly proud to be able to project itself into the twenty-second century. But China owes that quality of long-term thinking much more to its culture than to the nature of its political system. Chinese think long term because they are Chinese, not because they are not democrats.

China’s leaders can, of course, react to events without much regard for Chinese public opinion. After all, the great majority of Chinese do not dream of democracy, even if something like a civil society is emerging, generating new interests and demands that can no longer be totally controlled or manipulated, as in the past.

But that is precisely the weakness of non-democratic regimes in a global age dominated by transparency: Who dreams of becoming a Chinese citizen, or even a citizen of Singapore? In the aftermath of North Korea’s hereditary succession, strategic thinkers rightly emphasize China’s key role in shaping the peninsula’s future. But, despite the scenes of hysteria that followed the death of the “Great Leader” Kim Jong-il, most North Koreans probably dream of joining democratic South Korea (even if many South Koreans fear that prospect).
The majority of Chinese may not want to be governed like Westerners, but it would be wrong to assume that their only ambition is to spend like Westerners. The more successful they are, the more individualistic they will become and the more they will expect the respect and consideration of those who govern them.

By contrast, if China’s economic growth slows, which is likely in the coming years, protest against corruption – a source of fragility for any regime – will escalate. Indeed, it is important to bear in mind that, ahead of the upcoming Chinese leadership transition, new occupants for only the top two posts have been chosen, and that through a process of gradual anointment by roughly a hundred people at most.

The current crisis in the advanced countries, which may very well lead to a global recession (if it is not already doing so), not only reveals the many maladies of democratic regimes, but also acts as their incubator and accelerator. And yet the crisis may turn out to have an even greater impact on non-democratic systems that seem to be more efficient, but are in reality much more fragile. We see this in mounting unrest in both Russia and China.

Contrary to what one might think, democracy is more resilient than the alternatives in the long run. This will remain true as long as democrats remain convinced of it. Non-democratic models cannot truly challenge democracy. Only the misbehavior of democrats can do that.

Dominique Moisi is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion.


 

Dominique Moisi: 困境中的民主

巴黎——民主主義在應對危機之時是否過於緩慢？民主制度在制定長期計劃時是否顯得過於稚嫩？

在許多世界上的發達民主國家都處在經濟危機和社會危機不斷加深的時期，這個問題顯得尤為關鍵。例如，意大利首相馬裡奧·蒙蒂很有必要，用合情合理的雄心壯志出台全方面的改革政策。他既有能力而且又正直可信賴，但卻面臨著擬結構性所帶來的阻礙。過去領導人擁有三年的時間使選民們信服他們出台的政策所帶來的利益，但當今的臨到人卻隻有三個小時的時間去說服全球金融市場支持他們的政策

蒙蒂被一些意大利的立法委員所阻撓，這些立法委員，從深層次的角度來說，不懂改革和市場，但卻要求短期而又立竿見影的明確結果。蒙蒂能否超越自身與生俱來的聰明才智，運用足夠的意志力和闡明事物的透徹能力去實現這一行動？

同樣，美國的政治體系也變得越來越功能失調。政治哲學家弗朗西斯日前評論道，無論誰會取得2012年總統選舉的勝利，“選民主義”都有可能會壓倒“民主主義”。三權分立，是美國建國領導人在Montesquieuz這樣的哲學家的影響下建立起來的治國綱領。但這一原則現如今將美國領向了幾近癱瘓的狀態。

民主主義不僅由於其在危機爆發時期反應時間過慢而備受打擊﹔而且當人們想要對將來制定長期的計劃時，把自身因素考慮進去的時候，所面臨的困難也使民主遭到不小的沖擊。在大西洋的兩岸的國家，政治領導人知道他們必須要為自己的國家做一些貢獻，但是當他們在實際做貢獻的時候卻不知道應該如何連任。他們似乎一直由於結構問題而被指責為短期主義。

但是，並不是因為民主主義的“時間問題”，而致使這種民主主義的時代似乎就此宣告結束。中國將自己國家的計劃已經制定到了二十二世紀，並為此感到自豪，這不無道理。但是，中國將這種長期的制定計劃能力歸功於本國的文化積澱，而並非是自身的政治制度。中國人喜歡長遠的考慮問題，原因是因為中國人自古以來就是這樣做的。這並不是因為他們是非民主人士。

當然，中國領導人可以不必太過於擔心中國大眾的觀點就可以對重大事件做出應對。畢竟，對於絕大多數的中國老百姓來說，即使文明的社會正在形成，隨之產生了新的利益和需求，並且這些利益和需求再也不能像過去那樣完全地被控制和掌控，他們也並不夢寐以求實行民主制度。

但是，在一個全球化，透明化起主導位置的時代，這恰恰是非民主政權國家的劣勢。有誰會夢想成為一名中國公民?甚至可以說成為一名新加坡公民？在朝鮮世襲連任主席的余波中，一些戰略思想家正確地強調了中國在未來朝鮮半島局勢方面的核心作用。但是，盡管人們看到了在“偉大的領袖”金正日死后，朝鮮人民表現出來的歇斯底裡，極度悲慟的畫面，但大多數的朝鮮人民可能夢想著加入民主化的韓國。（即使許多的韓國民眾很懼怕這種情況出現）

大多數的中國人民可能不想向西方人那樣去治理國家，但是假設他們唯一的目標是向西方人那樣花錢也可能是錯誤的。他們取得的成功越大，他們就會越發變得個人主義，就會期望從管理他們的人的身上得到更多的尊敬和照顧。

相比之下，一旦中國的經濟增長衰退，反對腐敗呼聲則會越來越高，腐敗在任何一個國家中都是導致衰敗的來源，而經濟衰退則可能會在未來數年間出現。事實上，不久到來的中國領導人換屆選舉中，兩個最高領導人的位置已經被選定，這一決定隻是通過大約至多100人選舉過程產生，而這一過程隻是例行公事罷了，記住這一點尤為重要。

目前，發達國家的經濟危機很有肯能會導致全球經濟衰退（即使目前為止還沒有造成全球范圍內的經濟蕭條）。這不僅僅揭露了民主制國家政權的許多弊病，同時這場危機充當了這些弊病的培養基和催化劑。然而，這場危機可能會對那些非民主制國家造成更加嚴重的沖擊。這些國家表面上看起更加有效率，而實際上卻更加脆弱。我們可以從俄羅斯和中國不斷增加的不穩定中得到這一結論。

民主主義比長遠的選擇更加具有抵抗力，這和某些人的想法背道而馳。但隻要民主人士一直堅信這種觀點，這種觀點就會維持原本的正確性。非民主模式實際上不可能真正挑戰民主主義。隻有民主人士的錯誤行為才能夠挑戰民主主義。

Dominique Moisi:A Russian Spring?

PARIS – Russia is not Egypt. And Moscow is not on the eve of revolution as Cairo was less than a year ago. Indeed, Russia’s powerful have at their disposal assets that former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak’s regime lacked.

As an energy superpower, Russia can open its coffers to appease, at least in part, the humiliation that it has inflicted on its citizens by falsifying the country’s recent legislative election results. And not all Russians are in the streets. We should beware of the “zoom effect,” which made many people believe that the young protesters of Cairo’s Tahrir Square were fully representative of Egyptian society. They were not. Rural Egypt, like rural Russia, is much more conservative than the young elites who seize the world’s imagination with their protests and embrace of modern social media.

Furthermore, Mubarak was old and sick, and no longer enjoyed the trust of his people. Vladimir Putin, by contrast, exudes energy and health, and may still reassure many segments of Russian society whose main concern is their country’s glory rather than its citizens’ happiness.

Yet Putin may be overplaying the macho card so excessively that it could backfire and contribute to his isolation from Russia’s urban and more educated voters. But, even if the tens of thousands of demonstrators are unlikely to threaten the survival of Putin’s regime, the Kremlin would be wise to take them seriously. The protesters’ trademark so far has been moderation and restraint; nothing would be more dangerous than violent repression.

Beyond the issue of violence, the Russian authorities would take a huge historical risk by failing to register the public’s growing alienation. Sheltered physically and metaphorically by the Kremlin’s high walls, and having progressively lost contact with the living conditions of ordinary people (if they ever had any), Russia’s leaders seem to consider their lifestyle to be both normal and eternal.

From the standpoint of condemning elite behavior, Russian protesters evoke, at least partly, the actors of the Arab revolution. In their denunciation of “Soviet electoral practices,” they reject the combination of despotism and corruption that characterized Soviet power yesterday and Russian power today – rhetoric familiar from Arab revolutionaries. As young Arabs told the rulers of Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Syria, Yemen, and other Arab countries, this new generation of Russians is telling Putin: “Get Out!”

But most participants hold few illusions about the efficacy of their protest. They want to express to Russia’s rulers the extent of their frustration and determination. They may not expect regime change, but they expect at least some minimal reforms.

Above all, they want to set limits on Putin’s power. But their protest’s ironic consequence may be that the more moderate of the two figures at the summit of Russian politics, Dmitri Medvedev, will not return to the post of prime minister, as had been planned. A game of political musical chairs would simply be too much in the eyes of too many Russians.

The protests have caught the Kremlin’s masters, as well as the majority of Russia’s citizens, by surprise. They failed to recognize that globalization – particularly the global information revolution – has made the world more transparent and interdependent than ever. The protesters of Madrid were inspired by those of Cairo, and were themselves a source of inspiration from New York to Tel Aviv – and, subsequently, to Moscow.

A lesson emerges: with the deepening of the economic crisis, on the one hand, and instant global connectivity, on the other, what was accepted yesterday is regarded as intolerable today.

That applies to Russia, too. For a long time, Russia has perceived itself as a “White Africa.” The average life expectancy of Russian men, slightly below 60, is more African than European (or even Asian, for the most part). The corrupt enrichment of so many Russian elites mimics the disastrous habits of many of their African counterparts.

But this comparison has limits. Despite its many problems, Africa today has become a continent of hope. Its population is exploding, as are its economic-growth rates. Senegalese firms seek to help their Spanish business partners, while Portugal extends an almost royal welcome to the leaders of their former colony, newly oil-rich Angola.

Africa is on the rise, while Russia is on the decline. The democratic idealism that accompanied the fall of communism 20 years ago is gone, but the “imperial pride” recovered in part during the Putin years may not be enough to compensate for the contempt with which the Russian state treats its citizens. Russia’s demonstrators’ message is simple: “Too much corruption, disdain, and inequality is too much.” Russia, like the Arab world, wants modernity.

Dominique Moisi is the author of The Geopolitics of Emotion.