Last Thursday night’s iThink, the Ethics of Revolution, featured two Duke faculty panelists: Michael Hardt—Chair and Professor of Literature and Italian Studies—and Guillermo Trejo—Assistant Professor with the Department of Political Science. Their academic connections to the subject were both intriguing and relevant to our discussion, which covered everything from the semantics of revolution to current events in Northern Africa and the Middle East.
We began with a working definition of “revolution,” which both panelists agreed was virtually impossible to define out of context. The general consensus—as first posed by Trejo—was that revolution tends to be a change in regime, or a change in form of regime, brought about by non-electoral means. Hardt urged us to consider a more philosophical definition, where revolution is a transformation of human nature (a change in population and its habits in order for it to prepare for democratic self-governance). Che, as Hardt pointed out, often spoke of the creation of a “new man”—that is to say that through a revolutionary social process, a society can create a population that is capable of democracy.
So, is there a social contract—a Leviathan? Exploring the government-people dynamic, we considered the rights and obligations owed by one to the other (and vice versa). Government, according to Trejo, owes the people at the very least the right not to be killed and the right not to starve. Hardt proposed that the government owes what we, as citizens, force them to; we—in turn—owe them nothing. Trejo somewhat agreed with the latter notion, suggesting that inasmuch as the government protects our right not to be killed and to starve, we owe the government obedience. However, when that side of the bargain is not upheld, we have no responsibility to obey: “we are the sovereigns,” Trejo emphasized.
What about the preconditions for revolution: are there any? Trejo suggested that revolution (change in political regime) tends to take place in non-democratic countries. Hardt used the word tyranny. They both noted, interestingly, that historically there are trends with participants who have become involved in the revolutionary process. Peasantries, students, and clerics have traditionally formed a demographic pattern in the composition of revolutionary masses—we are particularly excited by the current revolution in Northern Africa because it is driven largely by secular students. As far as post-conditions of revolution, Trejo denied that there is any trend. He further posed that it is nearly impossible in closed autocracies to predict outcomes of revolution. Especially now with current examples of revolution in the Middle East and Africa, protest has followed a violent pattern; such a pattern can take several pathways to reach resolution. The chosen pathway depends largely on the dynamics of how autocrats deal with protest—revolution can move into democracy or into civil war (among other possibilities).
Do ends justify means? With a nod to consequentialist and deontological ethics, we spoke briefly on intention and outcome. Do outcomes matter in justifying revolution? What if a worse regime results from overthrowing one? What about Chile as an outlier—where a democratic regime was overthrown in 1973 and replaced by an autocratic regime which eventually westernized Chile to a point where it is now relatively stable, and ironically relatively democratic? Hardt urged that results do, in fact, matter politically, but that such results are in many ways irrelevant in justifying revolt. He maintained that revolt is always justified, even when it ends badly. In his words, “the powers that impose order have become so vast that it is hard to imagine transformation of the current system—there are more movies about the end of the world than about the end of capitalism, for example.” Trejo similarly took a pro-revolution stance, regardless of outcome.
So let’s talk about today. Is the proliferation of revolution in the Middle East and Northern Africa something to applaud, or is it dangerous? Hardt and Trejo agreed that it is indeed dangerous, but that the danger was a simple price to pay. “There’s always a price for freedom,” Trejo noted. Hardt suggested that revolution, spreading in such an infectious way, is certainly dangerous, but that it is better than “the alternative.” Trejo articulated his optimism and confidence that Islam and the rise of theocracy are now a relic of the past (the exception being Iran). Furthermore, he expressed his opinion that the fact that the United States has not played an active role in recent events is “wonderful news.” In many ways, that fact may be the reason for such relatively smooth revolutionary “success.” Hardt spoke of a “new change,” suggesting that “the Arab world should become for the next decade what Latin America was for the last decade.” There is hope that this will be the case.
But here’s where it “gets personal”: if Latin America was emblematic for the last decade, why was it not the talk of the last decade as well? That is to say, why did it not stir up the same excitement we see plaguing The New York Times and CNN today? Trejo spoke of this obsession with the word “revolution” in the North African example and lamented the little coverage received by the many, many cases of social protest (rulers removed or overthrown) in the last two decades in Latin America. Why weren’t these cases called “revolution?” What is it about the word “revolution” that qualifies some examples but not others? What is it about revolution that seems to draw global coverage and attention? And why is revolution so heavily romanticized? Human struggle and fortitude may be the noblest of honors, but this once again begs the question of outcome. Does intention alone suffice to merit praise? Is it even revolution or merely the sentiment of anti-government that appeals to humanity? Are people simply becoming increasingly anti-government—is that why revolution has suddenly become so attractive?
As always, your thoughts are welcome. Join the conversation.