When did you become so cruel?
I put the above quotation at the top of this review because it is a question with a seemingly elusive answer that the author finds herself repeating throughout the book.
Twitter mobs laugh and mock a retired professor who committed suicide after being judged to be out of line with society being constructed by Turkish President Erdogan.
When did you become so cruel?
White House staffers mock the brain cancer of Senator John McCain with a “He’s going to die anyway”.
When did you become so cruel?
An 18 year old girl in Texas shoots herself in front of her parents because of cyberbullying which social media mocks for days.
When did you become so cruel?
Perhaps the better question the author suggests is not simply “when did you become so cruel?” but rather “Where do all these cruel people come from?”
“How to Lose a Country” is author Ece Temelkuran’s warning to America about how her country became an authoritarian dictatorship not by a single Reichstagian like fire, but instead through hundreds of small smoldering ones that eventually engulfed the country and remade it in the image of its ruler. While Temelkuran lays out the seven steps she believes this transformation took, the most important and tragic for her is the complicity of the people in allowing it to happen. Politicians with no higher moral goal than the baseness of their own power, people seduced by promises of security and a return to a mythical time where the nation was strong (a kind of make Turkey great again), and the complicity of far too many academics and journalists who rather than exposing the slide into authoritarianism, believed objectivity about good and evil would insulate them from the tortures, exiles, and murders that were to come.
None of this however would be possible without fundamental changes in society itself.
The author looks at the 1980’s where Neoliberalism takes off and ethical and moral considerations began to take a backseat to accumulating wealth for accumulation’s sake. The “we” of community bonds and empathy for others began to be replaced with “I” and “achieving” no matter what the cost to others.
With the rise of reality television in the 1990’s and cruelty no longer having the social stigma it once did (the author cites Survivor and Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie’s reality shows as examples of cruelty and mockery becoming accepted norms). This would lay the groundwork for where we are today where empathy is seen as weakness and everyone seemingly has a grudge against everyone else.
The “we” has reemerged in the present day but rather than a community “we” it is a grudge based “we” against “elites”, scientists, media, or whatever targets the strongman of the day says are the reason for your life not being what you want and. It has created a vacuum that authoritarians like Erdogan and Trump have been eager to exploit as “men of the people” despite their backgrounds and policies reflecting nothing of the sort and an unwillingness to engage anyone not considered as the author says “real people”.
In this dystopian world, there are no shades of gray, only “real people” and “ enemies of the people”.
There is a wonderful imagined dialogue the author presents between Aristotle and a “populist” that illustrates the dilemma rational people face when confronted with those who believe in a distorted reality:
ARISTOTLE: All humans are mortal.
POPULIST: That is a totalitarian statement.
ARISTOTLE: Do you not think that all humans are mortal?
POPULIST: Are you interrogating me? Just because we are not citizens like you, but people, we are ignorant, is that it? Maybe we are, but we know about real life.
ARISTOTLE: That is irrelevant.
POPULIST: Of course it’s irrelevant to you. For years you and your kind have ruled this place, saying the people are irrelevant.
ARISTOTLE: Please, answer my question.
POPULIST: The real people of this country think otherwise. Our response is something that cannot be found on any elite papyrus.
ARISTOTLE: (Silence)
POPULIST: Prove it. Prove to me that all humans are mortal.
ARISTOTLE: (Nervous smile)
POPULIST: See? You can’t prove it. (Confident grin, a signature trait that will be exercised constantly to annoy Aristotle.) That’s all right. What we understand from democracy is that all ideas can be represented in the public space, and they are respected equally. The gods say¦
ARISTOTLE: This is not an idea, it’s a fact. And we are talking about mortal humans.
POPULIST: If it were left up to you, you’d kill everybody to prove that all humans are mortal, just like your predecessors did.
ARISTOTLE: This is not going anywhere.
POPULIST: Please finish explaining your thinking, because I have important things to say.
ARISTOTLE: (Sigh) All humans are mortal. Socrates is a human …
POPULIST: I have to interrupt you there.
ARISTOTLE: Excuse me?
POPULIST: Well, I have to. These days, thanks to our leader, it is perfectly clear who Socrates is. We know very well who Socrates is! You cannot deceive us any more about that evil guy.
ARISTOTLE: Are you joking?
POPULIST: This is no joke to us, Mr Aristotle, as it may be to you. Socrates is a fascist. My people have finally realised the truth, the real truth. The worm has turned. You cannot deceive the people any more. You were going to say, “Therefore Socrates is mortal” right? We’re fed up with your lies.
ARISTOTLE: You are rejecting the basics of logic.
POPULIST: I respect your beliefs.
ARISTOTLE: This is not a belief; this is logic.
POPULIST: I respect your logic, but you don’t respect mine. That’s the main problem in Greece today.
While we can laugh at its seeming absurdity, would this conversation really be out of place on CNN or Fox News in 2019? Would anyone even be troubled by what is being said here? Or would we just laugh at the “populist”, call him a deplorable and dismiss him.
The problem Temelkuran sees is not in failing to engage him or her (how does one engage with one who denies the basic tenets of logic or truth? As Temelkuran writes, its akin to playing chess with a pigeon, you can’t win and it will just knock over all the pieces, shit on the board, claim victory and leave a mess for you to clean up) but in not taking the danger of them seriously enough.
She argues this is what happened in Turkey and that the more they became embedded in society the harder it became to dislodge them.
Turkey perhaps lacked some of the democratic firewalls and traditions that Western democracies such as America and the UK believe insulate themselves from their country slipping into a dictatorship. And yet the author believes that this confidence in their ability to withstand their own Erdogan is dangerous in and of itself. The author recounts an exchange with a woman at a book event in London who asked after the failed coup of 2016:
“ ‘So, what can we do for you?’
“The woman in the audience brings her hands together compassionately as she asks me the question; her raised eyebrows are fixed in a delicate balance between pity and genuine concern. It is September 2016, only two months after the failed coup attempt, and I am at a London event for my book Turkey: The Insane and the Melancholy. Under the spotlight on the stage I pause for a second to unpack the invisible baggage of the question: the fact that she is seeing me as a needy victim; her confidence in her own country’s immunity from the political malaise that ruined mine; but most of all, even after the Brexit vote, her unshaken assumption that Britain is still in a position to help anyone. Her inability to acknowledge that we are all drowning in the same political insanity provokes me. I finally manage to calibrate this combination of thoughts into a not-so-intimidating response: ‘Well, now I feel like a baby panda waiting to be adopted via a website.’
This is a moment in time when many still believe that Donald Trump cannot be elected, some genuinely hope that the Brexit referendum won’t actually mean Britain leaving the European Union, and the majority of Europeans assume that the new leaders of hate are only a passing infatuation. So my bitter joke provokes not even a smile in the audience.
I have already crossed the Rubicon, so why not dig deeper? ‘Believe it or not, whatever happened to Turkey is coming towards you. This political insanity is a global phenomenon. So actually, what can I do for you?’"
As the author writes, institutions are nor “powerful, abstract beings” like we imagine them to be. They are run by people who “may be too paralyzed to act”. If we abdicate our responsibilities to preserve our democracy in the belief that our institutions and those in charge of them will save us, history tells us otherwise. Without a vigorous effort to maintain the basic building blocks of democracy such as free and fair voting and a willingness to speak up in the face of evil, any democracy no matter how well it believes itself to be insulated, can slip into darkness.