Horizons sovereignty dilemma

"The only way to keep them safe is to be separate. A nation with the power to protect its own." Horizons, p. 245


I cannot agree holistically with the sentiment described above in Mary Rosenblum's novel, nor can I condone the belief that "sovereignty protects difference." In my opinion, such a way of thinking is dangerous and irresponsible, especially when applied to our discussion of the Other. The separation portrayed by Rosenblum in her fictitious, futuristic narrative mimics actual human history's infatuation with racism, prejudice, segregation, ethnic cleansing, religious crusades, etc. Sovereignty can be utilized as a way of protecting one population's cultural and geographic ties; however, mankind cannot afford to use the physical boundaries of sovereignty to dictate human interaction. A nation may choose "to protect its own", yet that does not necessitate isolation from external influence. Horizons explores this concept through the continual debate within the Platforms regarding trade agreements with Earth. The same discussion occurs within our own political environment, among the First World and the Third, between the East and the West, between communist and democratic forms of governance.  Sovereignty, in this context, has less to do with protecting one's own people and everything to do with solidifying the divide between us and them. Physical borders and separations based upon ideological difference or skin pigmentation (in addition to countless other "sameness" checkpoints) highlight those so-called disparities even further and inspire more suspicion between the two groups. At times sovereignty seems, to me, to be far too easy an excuse to which apprehensive isolationists may cling. And in an increasingly globalized dynamic among "nation-states", the purview of sovereignty becomes all the more ill-defined. 

Reflection #14

The timing of Horizons in the semester could not have been more perfect; as I read of Ahni's trials and tribulations on Earth and beyond its atmosphere, I recognized the parallels between the characters' experiences and my own. The feeling of marginalization, or simply of difference, resonated profoundly as I made the nine-hour journey back to Massachusetts via bus, then train, and finally by car. To say that I was anxious would be a gross understatement; the day I left campus with my suitcase, the day that I arrived in Westfield after three and a half months of preoccupied distance, did not pass as quickly as I had hoped as I squirmed in my bus seat and nearly flattened everyone in my path through Grand Central. In retrospect, my agitation was due to my curiosity of what waited for me beyond campus, of what I had left behind and would find again in my hometown. I wondered if things would be as effortless and natural with my friends that I've shared everything with since the third grade, but who I've lived apart from since mid-August. I wondered if I would feel out of place sitting in my solitary bedroom or at an actual table in a non-TDR setting. These were thoughts that plagued my mind as I tried to concentrate on Horizons. My chief concern continually revolved around the concept of then and now, here and there. And I believe that is one of the motifs that haunts the pages of Mary Rosenblum's novel. Ahni, and humanity itself, struggles to preserve the familiar traditions of the past (life on Earth, familial ties, definitions of human) and embrace the progress promised by the future (life on the Platforms, new acquaintances, who is entitled to the parameters of humanity). As college freshmen, we confront the same tension, especially at this time of year when our worries are amplified by final exams and the ghosts of times past that visit us during breaks from school. I'm not certain how to effectively settle this disparity between old and new, or if it is supposed to be managed at all. Until then, I will search for the way to properly integrate both aspects of my life into the present, to cherish both the here and there as components of my here and now.

Reflection #13

In The Conquest of America, Todorov examines the individual’s relationship with the Other: how we recognize and react to the surface and internal differences of those around us. Intrinsically, humans exercise caution in the presence of difference, for it forces them to instinctively question which side of difference is the correct? Whose difference is acceptable and whose must be changed to match what is “proper” or “normal”?

I believe that this was the case of the Spanish conquistadors that Todorov seeks to examine, dissect, and condemn in his book. These men arrive in America and encounter beings that are entirely unknown to them, and who also conveniently occupy resource-rich land. Some men, such as Columbus, immediately refuse to acknowledge the possibility that the Indian livelihood could be equivalent (and therefore comparable) to the European way of life. Therefore, the Indian population becomes a resource itself, from which can be gleaned human capital, slave labor, and the confirmation of Spanish superiority. Columbus can confidently say that his side of difference is the correct one, simply because he survives and the Indians do not. He is a God-fearing Christian, and the Indians are not. Yet the perpetual discussion of Christianity throughout Conquest contains a substantial degree of mockery on Todorov’s part. He writes, “Far from the central government, far from royal law, all prohibitions give way, the social link, already loosened, snaps, revealing not a primitive nature, the best sleeping in each of us, but a modern being, one with a great future in fact, restrained by no morality and inflicting death because and when he pleases.” (145). The colonizers involved in the conquest were oceans and continents away from their motherland. Yet what can we say about their remoteness from morality? The conquistadors continually mention their commitment to Christianity and its tenets. Yet their actions display an inherent disrespect for the “love thy neighbor” commandment. Todorov states, “Everything occurs as if the Spaniards were finding an intrinsic pleasure in cruelty, in the fact of exerting their power over others, in the demonstration of their capacity to inflict death.” (143). The exertion of power relates directly to the dilemma of “I” versus “the Other.” The fact that the conquistadors could, in fact, conquer equates (in their minds) to the verification that they are in the right, that they should force the Indians to bow to their demands as a sign of acceptance of the European side of difference. They conduct God’s work, and He facilitates the conquest; therefore, their cause is just. They are in the right.

What I find so frightening is the tenacity of this way of thinking. People wage wars and prolong conflict because of divine right, or because their form of government is the only workable model, or because they simply know best. We still cannot confront our differences honestly, without clinging to accusations and justifications that our side of difference must be right, that we cannot possibly be the ones who will be forced to change. I do not understand why that change is necessary, why this question demands a winner and loser. What would the result be if we sought for understanding and acceptance rather than condemnations and forced compliance?

Reflection #12

"To propagate the faith presupposes that the Indians are considered his equals (before God). But what if they are unwilling to give their wealth? Then they must be subdued, in military and political terms, so that it may be taken from them by force..." (Todorov 45)

This quote taken from our reading of The Conquest of America, though its context belongs to centuries-old circumstances, is entirely relevant to our discussion of poverty and the subsequent dynamic between the First World and the Global South. During class on Thursday, we generally accepted the efforts of international aid organizations such as World Vision as honorable in intention, though doubtful in execution. Yet I couldn't stop myself from thinking about the inadvertent hypocrisy in these do-gooder actions. Groups such as World Vision and Heifer International cater to the materially-driven, "socially cognizant", typically Christian First World citizen; this demographic clings desperately to the notions of social activism and world citizenry and believe that they positively contribute to these objectives because they have the capacity to charge their credit cards to buy a few chickens or t-shirts whose partial profits benefit Darfur. It is my belief that these aid initiatives, though honorable in intent, actually exacerbate the divide between the First World and the Global South. The current international aid system allows the First World to know about issues within the Global South and "help" from a safe distance: behind their expensive computer screens or within the cheery ambience of their local mall. Absolutely no emotional, personal, human connection is formed. The idea of "us" and "them", of the inherent existence of "The Other" is perpetuated.

When I consider the numerous international aid organizations that emphasize our common humanity or the moral obligation to help the impoverished, and then when I examine the actual status quo within the Global South, there is no doubt in my mind that the current system of international aid contains inexcusable flaws. It seems to me that citizens within the First World are only willing to give back and adhere to their moral compass when they themselves will benefit. We discussed the spiritual/religion appeal of donating to the less fortunate. However, as the quote above demonstrates, we are not willing to redeem our souls if it equates to sacrificing our comfortable standard of living. The best example of this that I can offer is the lack of response to the conflict in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Despite the deplorable, undeniable facts of rape, murder, and child slavery, the world seems content to allow the deadliest conflict since World War II to wage on because their suffering results in our benefit. "The UN Refugee Agency says the war killed 2.5 million people, directly or indirectly, since August 1998, and later a UN panel says the warring parties deliberately prolonged the conflict to plunder gold, diamonds, timber, and coltan in the regions." (http://www.fallingwhistles.com/timeline/) The war in the DRC, though riddled with injustice and atrocities, is too valuable to the First World to be put to an end by international intervention. Moral obligation dissolves in the face of dollar signs. This opinion was true in Columbus' time, and it remains to be so today. The question is when humanity will recognize its dishonor.

Is the economic failure or success of a state under unequal preparatory conditions a fair outcome? If so, why? If not, what should be done?

The fact that states do not perform equally within the global economic system should not come as a surprise to the international community. Our globalized world praises the institution of free market capitalism; every nation-state is encouraged to participate within the market in order to augment the general level of competition. Yet participation does not equate to equal gains for all. Global economic competition guarantees the emergence of winners and losers, a struggle for the survival of the fittest in international industry. In many ways, this concept mimics our discussion of the college admissions process. As applicants, we could choose to do the best with what we were given in terms of opportunities and resources, or we could seek for supplementary materials that made our candidacy all the more appealing. While applying to universities throughout the country, we faced disheartening acceptance rates and terrifying price tags; we were aware of the inequity that stalked our grandiose dreams of College A. We clung to the words "options" and "safety school," just in case. States take similar precautions when faced with a fiercely competitive global market. They exploit their domestic natural resources, or pursue symbiotic trade agreements as a means of accessing vital materials that can be found beyond their borders. Yet when every state enters the global market, and when every prospective student's application lies in the hands of a selection committee, everything once again revolves around relative competition: how does the output of Nation A compare to that of Nation B? What is the difference in value between the laundry list of extracurriculars of Applicant A and that of Applicant B? From a purely technical perspective, the success or failure of a state merits the blame of that state only.

However, because our world is increasingly interdependent, the question of who's to blame becomes exceedingly tricky. State concerns are no longer purely their own; the perfect topical example of this is the overwhelming foreign criticism of the Fed's $600 billion expansion of the money supply. As an article in today's issue of the New York Times states, government officials abroad are openly criticizing the Fed's recent change in monetary policy. Germany's finance minister Wolfgang Schaeuble was quoted in the magazine Der Spiegel: "It's inconsistent for the Americans to accuse the Chinese of manipulating exchange rates and then to artificially depress the dollar exchange rate by printing money." The article goes on to say, "Privately, American officials say they were miffed by Mr. Schaeuble's comments, saying it was a breach of protocol for the foreign minister of one country to criticize the central banker of another." This segment of the article reminded me of our conversations pertaining to state sovereignty. Is America's sovereignty at risk because of this "breach of protocol"? Should commentary like this be tolerated within the international community? These are questions that become progressively difficult to answer as our interconnectedness intensifies. Nation-states must be willing to recognize their inherent effects upon one another in order to adequately confront the repercussions of those effects.

Reflection #11

Despite the progress we made in our discussion of poverty and wealth in class on Thursday, there are a few points that continue to trouble me. One of the topics we examined was the subdued nature of wealth in America; despite the esteem we bestow upon the American Dream and the material affluence it represents, we are not comfortable publicizing or admitting our personal obtainment of that ideal. It seems to me, in the United States at least, that how one behaves following the acquirement of wealth is just as critical as the acquirement itself. For whatever reason, Americans value discretion and modesty based upon the number of figures in one's salary. Billionaires are expected to give back through philanthropic donations and toss around diffident ideas of "getting by," "having enough," and "living comfortably" as euphemisms that diminish their actual prosperity. I have to wonder if our caution regarding personal wealth is a product of our loyalty to democratic principles, such as those of equality. The founding of our nation fostered a nobility-less environment in which every (white, land-owning) man could pursue his own destiny, regardless of the station into which he was born. The contemporary U.S. preserves that notion, thanks to the editing of the above parameters to include minority demographics. However, the concept of wealth or "comfortable living" questions that premise. Do we offer fair opportunity to all? What does it mean when 12 million children risk going hungry in the U.S. every day? What does it mean when working three jobs doesn't guarantee a rent payment? Is the individual at fault, or are their overlaying forces at work? Americans display such timidity in the face of wealth because of the inequality it embodies. Inequality is not something we like to imagine exists in our modern, democratic, politically correct country. Yet it does. And perhaps if we allocated our time by trying to ameliorate that gap, rather than apologize for its existence, we could cause substantial change.

Reflection #10

The nature of terrorism is designed to be simultaneously covert and incendiary; terrorists seek to instill fear and suspicion while maintaining their personal obscurity. It is this covert tendency that makes the concept of terrorism so foreboding. As "the other side," we cannot cling to the solidity of an opposing ideology, or the face of an oppressive dictator, or the geographical confines of a region and classify them as aggressors. When it comes to terrorism and/or violent extremism, uncertainty is the only guarantee. The enemy is faceless, nameless, nation-less. It is a force that constantly defies our predictions and avoids normal means of battle. Our discussion in class on Thursday reminded me of a book I read over the summer, American Taliban. Fictitious John Jude Parish (strikingly similar to real-life John Walker Lindh, the 29-year-old American citizen who was captured in 2001 in Afghanistan and is currently serving time in prison because of his affiliation with Al-Qaeda) is a teenage male who defers admission to Brown University and ultimately moves to Pakistan where he joins the Taliban. Our discussion also fit perfectly with the final showcase of the Human Rights Film Series, The Oath, which describes the lives of Salim Hamdan and "Abu Jandal", two men affiliated with Al-Qaeda. Jandal was Osama bin Laden's bodyguard and recruiter, who hired his brother-in-law, Hamdan, as a driver. Hamdan never took the "oath", the requirement for admittance to Al-Qaeda. Jandal did. Hamdan was imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay for seven years and was the first detainee to undergo the military tribunals. Jandal was imprisoned for two years and was released after attending "The Dialogue", a reformatory program that seeks to show former jihadi the error of their ways. These works, both fictitious and real, force me to question the exact parameters of our definition of terrorist, extremist, rebel, etc. It is just as difficult to categorize terrorists as it is to define the institution itself, which makes it all the more tenable.

What is the greatest threat to global peace and security? What constitutes a threat?

A threat to global peace and security represents any divisive issue that provokes an adverse reaction within the realm of inter-state conduct. This issue could plague the entire globe, such as climate change, or it could simply be a disagreement between two states, such as the he-said, she-said between the United States and Afghanistan regarding President Karzai's acceptance of Iranian "bags of money." (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/26/world/asia/26afghan.html_r=1&scp=1&sq=Karzai%20confirms%20that%20Iran%20gives%20bags%20of%20money&st=cse). For even when conflict begins by surfacing between two nations (in this case, the U.S. and Afghanistan), it inevitably encompasses secondary actors (Iran, NATO nations) by categorizing them as an ally of either primary actor.

While I do not believe that ideological threats are obsolete in today's world, the globalized nature of our planet supports the fact that human beings are rapidly becoming consumers first and citizens second. Ideology is consistently overshadowed by the insatiable need to protect access to natural resources and therefore, to perpetuate materialism. Global peace and security are now inherently fused with economic stability and growth, which is not possible without the constant accumulation and utilization of natural resources, especially for industrial and post-industrial nations. And, due to the effects of globalization, states throughout the global system are industrializing at a rapid rate, leading to a growing worldwide increase in personal wealth and consumerism. As Michael T. Klare, international security expert and the director of the Five College Program in Peace and World Security Studies at Hampshire College, states in his book Resource Wars, "Without a steady and reliable flow of essential materials, the American economy cannot expand and generate the products needed to ensure continued U.S. competitiveness in global markets...the United States must retain access to overseas supplies or its entire economy will face collapse." This is true of all states, not just current superpowers; we live in a world of escalating demand for resources of all types (namely oil, water, minerals, and timber), limited resources, and recurring, reinvented disagreements over who owns these resources. It has now become the socially acceptable and virtually required norm that states protect their claims to resources through military might. And while some may argue that this defensive strategy is merely for show, that actual violence will not be seen due to the liberal nature of global market forces ("the perceived economic benefits of compromise are generally much greater than the likely costs of war", Klare), national security is of the utmost importance when it comes to the preponderance of vital natural interests, i.e. access to natural resources. These so-called "resource wars" are the most threatening issue in the sphere of global peace and security, and they will only continue to be exacerbated as states compete for distinction and superiority within the globalized machine.

Reflection #9

Security is not merely a state objective; it is a term whose universality guarantees that anything can be neatly denoted within its scope. Everything can be transformed into an issue of security, and if a state seeks to bolster its national stability, it will seek not only for scapegoats such as defense spending or rogue nations, but also for more obscure culprits. The Obama administration’s national security summary accomplishes this masterfully; while I do not intend to accuse the President of fear-mongering, there is a prominent difference between the confidentiality of the NSC-68 document and the downloadable transparency of the current national strategy for security. In the 2010 document, President Obama not only cites foreign threats such as Al-Qaeda, but he also suggests that Americans disadvantage themselves because of a series of domestic shortcomings: our dependent and lagging economy, lackluster sustainability projects, subpar educational standards, insufficient investment in technology and the sciences, among others. The document states: “Our strategy starts by recognizing that our strength and influence abroad begins with the steps we take at home.” Unlike the NSC-68 document, which warns of the inevitable, ambiguous, almost supernatural force of communism, the 2010 document on security strategy blatantly identifies the American status quo as a foe just as portentous as terrorist organizations. Additionally, the 2010 document is not meant for the behind-the-scenes eyes of government officials or policymakers. Anyone with access to Google can retrieve the 2010 security strategy. In my opinion, the blunt finger-pointing of the Obama document and its attainability work in tandem. Upon reading this document, the average American is supposed to feel fear and the appropriate amount of culpability. During the Cold War, the last emotion the government wished to incite within its citizens was alarm. Now, however, it seems almost patriotic to search for the weaknesses that we allowed to form within our society, to detect our ailing Achilles’ heel(s). President Obama’s words encourage the reader to acknowledge those vulnerabilities and approach them with the old-fashioned can-do attitude of our predecessors.  In this case, the bullet points of national security strategy seek to mold the perception of security itself in the eyes of citizens. 

What constitutes "winning" in the real world?

During our game of Risk, the distinction between winning states and losing states was constantly visible; one merely had to glance at the board to gain a visual synopsis of territorial might, resource wars, and vulnerable enclaves, or refer to the diplomatic standing board for an organized depiction of international relations. The real world, however, does not offer such concise, accessible summaries of the status quo. We lack a giant white board which classifies friends and foes. We cannot glance at a map of the world and recognize how many hostile armies surround our borders or discern where every tenable resource lies. Nation-states do not have to portray the truth; as we learned through our respective objectives, there are moments when deception is a much more valuable strategy to employ than honesty. Fabrications (and the ability to perceive of others' fabrications) are essential to the security of both the state and its objective(s). For example, though the black team's objective emphasized the importance of alliances and peace, the black team still exploited the ability to twist the truth in order to achieve its aim.

The achievement of state goals constitutes winning in the real world; this appears similar to the objective of Risk. Yet as Professor Jackson expressed in class, the aftermath of state action within the actual global community includes more than the movement of pieces of plastic across a board. A state cannot simply roll a pair of dice in order to defeat an opponent or gain additional resources. There are social, political, and economic repercussions to every single policy decision enacted by a government. Wars presage the death of soldiers and civilians, economic strain, political discontent or possible schism, and societal disquiet, whether it comes from likeminded warmongers or radical dissidents. Winning in the real world is not exclusively about the changes in territorial labeling. Domestic and foreign accountability plays a major role; a state's action today is not erased away in memory because of a new playing round. Human beings cling to history because we like to believe it helps us predict or even create our future. A state can only win in the real world if it recognizes this strategy. To win, a nation-state must be mindful of its objectives and how it can achieve them by causing the most negligible disturbance possible. Careful calculation results in a carefully crafted image both at home and abroad, and image is paramount in a world where people constantly seek neat and tidy definitions for the complex workings of the world, especially when we lack the organization of a game of Risk.

Reflection #8

The events of this week convinced me that I am so incredibly fortunate to attend American and participate in UC World Politics. Of course this had never been a question in my mind; it has now simply become solidified in the aftermath of operatic spectacle, erratic games of Risk, and a visit from a friend back home. My friend Reid has had a much more tumultuous transition to college life than I have, due to a myriad of unfortunate circumstances (rooming with hostile sophomores, a lackluster class schedule, "temporary" friends). Hosting him at American forced me to realize that everyone isn't quite so lucky when it comes to finding a post-secondary school match. Reid was amazed by our floor; I've told him countless stories about Letts 6 (all good things, of course!), but I don't think he quite believed me when I told him what a unique, fantastic dynamic we have. It shocked him that people left their doors open, shared food and ironing boards , and baked cakes to celebrate birthdays. He couldn't believe that we played a board game in class and made it applicable to the workings of the world beyond our campus. He envied the fact that I can hop on the metro to listen to protestors outside the White House, explore the Library of Congress, or hear an opera in German. This may be due to the fact that I'm living in the nation's capital and he's living in upstate New York. However, I also think this wanderlust and constant adventuring is inspired by American's encouragement (and the occasional mandate) that we venture beyond Ward Circle and Tenleytown. Our university, and SIS especially, constantly reminds us that we're not merely students stuck behind book bindings, learning about the way people live and clash and collaborate. We are an integral part of that structure, and will play an even greater role once we relinquish the title of student. I think that mutual recognition between students and faculty at American is my favorite part of life here, and something that other schools may lack.

Reflection #7

The simulation on Thursday was not only an appreciated chance to delve into a topical debate; it also forced me to realize the erratic and, at times, perfunctory way in which our government chooses courses of action. For the sake of the simulation, we all adopted our various personas and projected that image onto the issue of domestic content rules. Each group contributed admirable effort to argue its respective point; however, I have to admit that I was disappointed that some groups' opinions did not receive any modification. It would have been interesting to witness how a group responded to a schism within its initial structure. For example, my group members (Elana, Sarah, Priyanka) and I continually stated how our personal opinions were at perpetual odds with our argument as the consumer group. Naturally, we could not afford to display that sentiment; this debate, much like our in-class dissection of Machiavelli and The Prince, purposefully encouraged individuals within our class to adopt a wildly unfamiliar or inconceivable perspective. 

I was also surprised that no one sought to address the matter of campaign finance on Thursday. Realistically, the President could not only consider domestic content rules, but also his own reelection. As consumers, our group belabored this point mercilessly; if the President decided to ignore the opinion of the populace (which he in fact did), then the populace could choose to ignore the President just as effortlessly in the next election. However, while consumers compose the largest demographic of a presidential hopeful's voting base, large corporations and collections of likeminded individuals (with deep pockets) offer just as much appeal to a candidate. As we discovered on Thursday, the President's decisions regarding policy constitute a zero-sum game; his settlement of the matter alienated some while appeasing others. The objective is to discover the most all-encompassing conclusion that addresses the variety of concerns with the appropriate amount of specificity. 

Reflection #6

Our focus this week on marginalized demographics--within our classroom, society, and the universe itself--proves how natural it is for humankind to categorize in terms of "us and them." The inclusion of all within any sort of community is paramount for optimum functionality; yet inclusion is the source of conflict. Who do we include? How can we neatly define who is marginalized and who is not? Next, how do we include those who have been forced to the outer realms of society? Our discussion on Thursday produced suggestions for the voiceless and measures that can be taken to "integrate" them into the life of the community as a whole. However, history demonstrates that revolutionary acts of inclusion do not always take immediate effect, or even yield a lasting reform. I am only referencing human history in this reflection; the aftermath of future human-extraterrestrial contact is unfathomable to me. Despite the fact that the United Nations recently created an ambassadorial position for aliens, I cannot express confidence in the endeavor. We cannot even respect the relations among fellow nation-states, among our own species. How can humankind reasonably expect to pursue purely diplomatic relations with beings from another planet or universe when we often fail so miserably at those within the confines of our own? Humans are predetermined to fear that which they do not understand, to classify everything as friend or foe. Extraterrestrials would be the most marginalized group imaginable, and the repercussions of intergalactic relations would further aggravate humans' "us vs. them" mentality.

Reflection #5

Our visit this week to the EU delegation struck a particular chord with me because Dr. Deak's remarks seemed so at odds with our discussions in class recently. I hope it is safe to claim that we all recognize the world as an interdependent system of nations and peoples. Our dialogues in world politics increasingly mention the economic, political, and cultural ties that inherently bind all parts of the world. This change in dynamic is due to numerous factors: globalization, technology, public policy, war, etc. However, during Dr. Deak's presentation on Wednesday, he continually referred to the EU as a separate, superior, optimal-functioning collection of European nations, which it arguably is. However, it was his lacking mention of the EU within the global community that upset me. Naturally, Dr. Deak exhibited a certain level of pride in the European Union and its various accomplishments, tenets, and appendages. Yet it seemed to me that our conversation perpetually stayed within the bounds of the EU as a physical entity. Dr. Deak discussed how the various member nations of the European Union interact with one another, particularly in terms of additions (Turkey). While I was interested in learning about the internal dynamic of the EU, I would have been even more fascinated to hear how the EU functions within the international sector, especially compared to the roles of individual nation-states. My problem with Dr. Deak's presentation was his inability to address the EU's influence outside the confines of Europe (because it does play an intrinsic part). His incapacity to articulate the European Union's international impact parallels the uncertainty that is felt throughout the world system because of the EU's presence. As Chris mentions in his reflection, nowhere in the world is there an overarching assemblage of an entire region, except in Europe. It is my belief that the United States, the rest of the world, and perhaps the European Union itself, are still unsure of how to incorporate and utilize this organization in the global forum.

If Lady Gaga were a state, then what would the global system be like?

It seems to me like our world politics class could have an endless discussion about the organization, implementation, and repercussions of the Lady Gaga nation-state. However, I would like to note that though I adore Lady Gaga and am a devoted little monster, I honestly have no idea what she is ever thinking, and therefore love her all the more. I cannot imagine what a nation under her "rule" would be like; simply imagining the form of government it would adopt poses problems. Lady Gaga is not the kind of person to admire dictatorships, yet no one can embody Gaga like herself; would she govern as an absolute ruler? Or would she incorporate the Haus of Gaga into her governmental circle? She is an extremely outspoken individual who prizes originality and unconventionality. Would this equate to an entirely open immigration policy? Or would a future citizen of the Gaga nation-state need to meet a certain standard of creativity, tolerance, and insanity (in the best possible sense)? What would Lady Gaga require of her citizens (i.e. taxes, economic activity, social norms) or would there purposefully be no requirements at all? As an individual, both in the artistic sense of the word and in daily life, Lady Gaga embodies freedom to choose how one behaves and is perceived. Naturally she aims to please her fans, yet she began by remaining true to her personal artistic intentions, no matter how they were received by the global audience at first. This makes me wonder if she would enact that philosophy onto a nation-state and its populace, and if that implementation is wise in modern society. If we acted without any preconceived notion of social normalcy, what would the effect be? Would the world descend into chaos because of competing personalities (after all, there is only one Lady Gaga, for now), or would it rise to an elevated state of thought and awareness, where every little monster could behave without fear of reproach? I don't think we can genuinely anticipate what the result would be if Lady Gaga transferred her Gaga-ness to an entire geographic region and population, simply because she never acts in a way that is expected.

Reflection #4

Although we discussed this topic at length in Thursday’s class, I would like to revisit the question of America’s freedom to impose democracy on nations that seemingly lack our commitment to representation, free speech, frequent elections, and other democratic principles. When we consider the United States’ efforts to support democratization in other parts of the world, we must also understand our own motivation. The American perspective is a unique one, especially when it comes to acts of rebellion, revolution, and free expression. American citizens have an insatiable need to express their beliefs and opinions, especially when those opinions are at odds with those of the government’s. Political rebellion is a deep-running thread of the American social fabric, and we asserted our right to “petition the government for a redress of grievances” even before those words were penned and we declared our independence from Britain. Perhaps it is our own personal success story, our own revolution which lead to the greatest modern democracy in the world, that blinds us from the realization that some people do not think as we do. Some nations have not been successful when fighting a war against an established superpower. Some nations do not allow thousands or millions of citizens to gather in one place at one time and fight for a cause or criticize the government, without being met with teargas, tanks, guns, even death. Americans cannot understand these acts of suppression, which are completely at odds with our own definition of stability, and our methods for attaining it. When the government performs in a way we as a society cannot respect or condone, we seek to change it, because that is our right. Other countries cannot imagine how stability could ever result from such freedom, and so they govern in the way they deem proper (suppressing dangerous shifts in opinion, controversial movements, etc). Political rebellion in the United States has frequently resulted in victory; our obtainment and cultivation of democracy has been an indubitable success. Our history provides us with a tangible example of how things are “supposed” to happen, yet by focusing solely on our history, we forget those of other nations and peoples whose efforts for democracy or freedom were not so perfectly met. American democratization is not as simple for the rest of the world, simply because its ideals contradict forms of rule that have been established for centuries, and because some current foreign governments cannot dream of granting citizens that kind of freedom. 

Would you rather live in a society without elections?

I can say with all honesty that such a society would frighten me beyond reason, and that this proposed system would lead to chaos in American democracy. Elections, because of what they represent, are as American as apple pie and Norman Rockwell paintings. It seems to me that modern voting embodies more than just support for candidate A or candidate B; physically stepping into the voting booth reassures common citizens that they have some right to think and act as individuals, and therefore that they have a measure of control within an ever-expanding world. The best example I can provide of this phenomenon is the recent election of Republican candidate Scott Brown to the Massachusetts Senate seat in Congress. Being a native of the state (and, not surprisingly, a Democrat), the race for the Senate seat that took place this year impacted me particularly. (I still cannot stop shaking my head at Martha Coakley). Yet it also alerted the rest of the country to the rising popularity of dissent in American politics. For years, I listened to my father (a Republican, NASCAR-loving NRA member) grumble at the polls because his vote "didn't matter" amongst an overwhelming sea of tree-huggers, pro-choicers, and gay rights activists. Massachusetts is arguably, after all, the most liberal state in the union. However, his vote, along with thousands more, was among the majority that elected a Republican candidate to represent Massachusetts in the US Senate. This evolution of political thought within my own state is fascinating in itself, and while it may not coincide with my personal ideology, it is a comfort for all Americans to recognize that we have an accessible conduit through which change can be ushered. The election process is not alway foolproof or fair, yet it is still the most efficient way for American voices to be publicized and put to use.

Reflection #3

Our discussion in class on Thursday solidified my belief that culture is topical when it comes to realism. A nation’s culture encompasses its distinct identity in terms of language, custom, art, and social institutions. If a nation chooses, the preservation of a distinct culture can equate to the survival of the state; it is just as strategically promising as the strengthening of a national military when developed correctly. I would like to briefly mention two modern examples of cultural protection. The first is France, an infamously proud nation, so proud that it actively relies upon the Academie Francaise to monitor and protect its language from foreign contaminants (usually English terminology relating to technology, such as “email”, “blog”, etc.) In this way, France militantly defends its culture to reinforce its image as a strong, independent nation-state that participates in a globalized world, but certainly is not consumed by it. From another perspective, Germany has become the main destination in Europe for refugees and those seeking asylum. In 2005, the German Federal Minister of the Interior Otto Schilly remarked, “Because of its history, Germany has a special obligation to accept political refugees. We are grateful that thousands of those persecuted during the Nazi regime on the basis of their race and political convictions were able to find refuge in other countries. Germany takes its responsibility seriously to grant asylum to victims of political persecution and to provide a new home for Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.” (http://www.cceia.org/resources/transcripts/5280.html) Germany now faces a myriad of issues regarding immigration, especially tensions between the native population and Turkish families. German culture is now inherently tied to Turkish influences, and only time will reveal the effect of this transformation on the nation. From a realist point of view, Germany’s loose immigration policy and willingness to accept foreigners as a form of redemption for past mistakes represents a weakness in political strategy that could eventually lead to the destruction of former Germany.

Near the end of The Prince, Machiavelli suggests that since fortune favors the bold, it is always better to take the initiative in political life and political struggle. Is this good advice? Does it cohere with Machiavelli's other pieces of advice throughout the book?

As I’ve stated in our blog before, I think it is far better for a politician or any similar public figure to avoid neutrality, and instead articulate opinions that the average member of the public can neatly file as liberal, conservative, or moderate. Voters prefer to see the concrete lines of peoples’ beliefs, for it allows them to recognize how closely their own views match those of candidates. For this reason, I believe Machiavelli offers reasonable and beneficial advice by advising a ruler to be bold in action and “resist fortune” to an extent. He states, “…I think it may be true that fortune determines one half of our actions, but that, even so, she leaves us to control the other half…” (74) Our own free will is not to be tampered with, according to Machiavelli. However, how we utilize our free will is up to debate. Machiavelli encourages future rulers to adopt firm stances, which demands boldness. Yet he also emphasizes the necessity to adapt, which requires an even greater measure of confidence.  Machiavelli comments, “…if one knew how to change one’s character as times and circumstances change, one’s luck would never change.” (76) It is this constant, chameleon-like change of character that concerns me; I certainly could not place faith in such a leader. In modern society, this kind of behavior would represent a red flag to voters. Of course, Machiavelli’s ruler lived in a different time, when subjects were expected to blindly follow rather than scrutinize a ruler’s every move and motive. I respect Machiavelli’s tribute to boldness, yet I believe that courage is better placed in solid, lasting conviction than in a litany of contradictory natures. 

Reflection #2

During our discussion of Machiavelli this week in class, I noticed how we consistently imagined the author in both his own time period and that of the modern world. There were pieces of advice that would be relevant to a contemporary politician, such as the recommendation to display conviction, and others that would best be ignored (killing off every last descendant of a former leader). However, chapter 18 caught my particular attention because of the way it depicts both rulers and “subjects.” Machiavelli advises a future ruler: “So you should seem to be compassionate, trustworthy, sympathetic, honest, religious, and, indeed, be all these things; but at the same time you should be constantly prepared, so that, if these become liabilities, you are trained and ready to become their opposites.” (54) To me, not only does this suggestion contradict Machiavelli’s denouncement of neutrality, it also guarantees political suicide. The individual described above by Machiavelli is today’s version of a flip-flopper, a politician who acts as a canvas to be painted upon rather than a mindful, opinionated person capable of defending original stances.

It seems to me that in Machiavelli’s time, the general populace did not hold rulers accountable, or perhaps feared to do so; as the author states, a true ruler of any merit would simply quell such opposition. However, in nations throughout the world today, citizens are expected to constantly question their leaders and the actions they take while in office. As I read Machiavelli, especially during the passage above, I couldn’t help but feel insulted. The author refers to his fellow citizens as a sort of deaf-and-dumb collection of dispensable peasants. They certainly aren’t citizens with the right to freedom of expression. Of course, the ruler in Machiavelli’s text has absolute power; his featured form of government is exceedingly different than American democracy, or any current form of leadership. Still, as a man who evidently cherishes his own voice in the political arena, he’s quick to deem the public voiceless and essentially useless to the state.