Nova srpska
politicka misao
January1999, Belgrade
Officially, Serbia is governed by a parliamentary democracy with a broad spectrum of
political representation. But is Serbian political life really so diverse, or is its
relatively homogenous ruling cadre merely dressed up with careless (or convenient)
political labels? Nine intellectuals, most of them young, tackle this question in the
latest issue of Nova srpska politicka misao [New Serbian Political Thought].
New Serbian Political Thought is one of the few intellectual oases in Serbia in
which these kinds of debates are seriously discussed. Founded in 1994 under the name Serbian
Political Thought, the journal has typically attracted young, independent political
scientists, philosophers, sociologists, psychologists, and economists who weigh in on
topical, and sometimes controversial, political questions. Two years later, its publisher
(the state-controlled Institute of Political Studies) dismissed the editorial board and
all but banned the journal. But soon after, Vreme, a Belgrade-based independent
weekly, took it over, rehired the original editorial board, and relaunched it with
“New” tacked on the title.
The current issue was conceived just as Serbia assumed its current government: a
three-party coalition comprised of, on the Left, Slobodan Milosevic’s Socialist Party
(SPS) and his wife’s Yugoslav United Left (YUL) and, on the extreme Right, Vojislav
Seselj’s Serbian Radical Party (SRS). Aleksandar Molnar, a professor at
Belgrade University, argues that the attitude of these parties toward the old regime is
one of the most important criteria for distinguishing who really lays claim to the Right
and the Left. Today’s coalition government, he suggests, is characterized by a
“strong Bonapartist form of Slobodan Milosevic’s authority” with a soft
spot for the former socialist regime. Molnar skewers the self-proclaimed Leftism of the
yul and SPS, identifying them instead as Serbia’s extreme Right and moderate Right,
respectively. Molnar not only places Seselj’s SRS into the same Rightist category,
denying any pretense of ideological breadth in Belgrade, but also Ibrahim Rugova’s
Democratic League of Kosovo (DLK). Both promote a rigid nationalistic and authoritarian
model of power—whether Serbian or Albanian. By refusing to take part in the elections
and thus become a strong opposition presence, Molnar argues, Rugova “invisibly”
participated in the coalition, hoping this path would be the fastest to Kosovo
independence. According to Molnar, those four rightist parties (SPS, YUL, SRS, and DLK)
represent the real ruling coalition in Serbia, a “democrat-despotic” system.
Like Molnar, Slobodan Samardzic, from the Belgrade Institute of European
Studies, finds a clear connection between the present regime in Serbia and the communist
regime of former Yugoslavia. This continuity, he argues, has been maintained by Leninist
methods of “closing and destroying the free political domain.” By either
coopting new opposition parties or by undermining existing opposition parties with
corruption and a strong police, the regime prevents the political interaction that drives
real democracy. Samardzic calls it “cynical pluralism”—a parliamentary
system that nevertheless eliminates all opposition.
Although ambitiously conceived, the January 1999 issue of New Serbian Political
Thought provides little more than an introduction to Serbia’s complicated
domestic politics. This mixture of quasi-democratic and authoritarian elements, populism,
nationalism, and staged “democratic” conflicts has yet to be comprehensively
explained.
—Dusan Velickovic Editor, Alexandria
Transition
January 1999, Cambridge
Founded in Kampala in 1961 by Rajat Neogy, a Ugandan writer of Indian ancestry, Transition
was designed to be the literary organ of East African writers and intellectuals. But just
six years later, the troubles began. The American press reported that one of Transition’s
financial backers, the Paris-based Congress of Cultural Freedom, was financed by the CIA.
Then, Ugandan president Milton Obote arrested and detained Neogy on sedition charges.
After his release from prison, Neogy relocated the publication to Ghana, led by his friend
Kofi Brefa Busia; but Busia was ousted by a military coup. In 1974, Neogy reluctantly
turned over operations to writer Wole Soyinka, who ran the magazine from London. Under
Soyinka’s guidance, Transition, subsequently renamed Ch’indaba—a
fusion of Swahili and Matabele—became more pan-Africanist in tone. But Transition/Ch’indaba,
pressed for funding, was forced to close its doors just seven issues into Soyinka’s
tenure.
In 1991, Henry Louis Gates Jr., a former student of Soyinka at Cambridge and a frequent
contributor to Transition in the 1970s, decided to revive the magazine at Harvard
University’s William E. B. DuBois Center, in cooperation with his long-standing
associate Kwame Anthony Appiah. The most recent edition, a special compilation celebrating
Transition’s 75th issue, contains an exceptional selection of 47 articles
published between 1961 and 1976 in the original journal. They cover an unusually broad
scope: Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana, the Nigerian Civil War, apartheid in South Africa,
interviews with writers V.S. Naipaul and James Baldwin, several articles on African
literature, and writings from prison by Neogy and Soyinka. But regrettably, many of the
articles portray a negative image of Africa and Africans. Naipaul excoriates both the
Trinidadians and the Africans in a 1971 interview. Nkrumah, Obote, and Idi Amin of Uganda
are also subjected to scathing critiques.
Those readers interested in international affairs may be most attracted to a
controversial set of articles on Nkrumah. In one of them, noted Africanist Ali Mazrui suggests
that the first president of Ghana saw himself as “Africa’s Lenin” and
strove to become “Ghana’s Czar.” He also calls Nkrumah a “great
African, but not a great Ghanian.” But the characterization is not entirely fair.
Even admitting the excesses of Nkrumah’s later years in office, one could argue that
the completion of the Volta River project and Tema harbor, rural electrification, and
educational reform in the early Nkrumah years were critical investments in Ghana’s
now-promising economy.
Interestingly, one of the principal theses of the book that inspired Mazrui to compare
Nkrumah with Lenin—Nkrumah’s Neo-Colonialism, the Last Stage of
Imperialism—is that although the damage of colonial rule by Western governments in
Africa was mitigated by public accountability, neocolonialism, or domination by corporate
finance capital, had no such constraints. His observations are salient today in view of
the Asian financial crisis and the role of finance capital in driving globalization. I had
the same “back-to-the-future” sensation about at least one other article, author
John de St. Jorre’s “Looking for Mercenaries.” His piece, originally
published in 1967, describes the mercenary presence in the Congo that set the stage for
certain African states or rebel military groups to “outsource” war today. [See
David Shearer’s “Outsourcing War,” FOREIGN POLICY, Fall 1998.]
Although uneven in quality, the 75th issue of Transition provides an important
retrospective. It takes us from the euphoria of Africa in the early 1960s through the
disenchantment of the 1970s and provides a background for many of the challenges faced by
Africa today. However, billed as “an international review of politics, culture, and
ethnicity from Beijing to Bujumbura,” the resuscitated Transition has also
been transformed. Now openly financed and housed in the United States, Transition
is no longer an organ for intellectuals in Africa. It is primarily a journal on the
African diaspora. Hopefully, the release of the 75th issue, with its emphasis on the
original Transition, will inspire its new editors to accord greater priority to
African topics with a more Soyinkian, pan-African perspective.
—Herschelle Challenor
Dean, School of International Affairs and Development
Clark Atlanta University
Venezuela
Analítica
January 1999, Caracas
Latin America has made a huge comeback in the last two decades. Politically, the region
has turned more democratic. Economically, it has introduced sweeping market reforms,
allowing many countries to escape the impoverishing debt crisis of the 1980s. Venezuela,
however, has grown poorer and less democratic, succumbing to political unrest, coup
attempts, policy paralysis, party system breakdown, and economic chaos.
Last December, Venezuelans elected a new president, Hugo Chávez, who promised to
liberate the country from crisis by prosecuting corrupt leaders and reforming the
constitution. So far, so good. But Chávez admires Fidel Castro, cares little for (or
knows little of) market economics, glorifies the military, detests political parties, and
until recently, showed no remorse about his attempt to overthrow the government forcibly
seven years ago. He has already filled his cabinet with like-minded friends and plans to
reform the constitution with a plebiscite, even though the constitution states that any
amendment or reform must come by way of Congress.
Leading Venezuelans weigh in on their new president in Venezuela Analítica, a
stylish online newsweekly that posts what it considers to be the best editorials from the
domestic and international press. A more comprehensive monthly edition also includes
analytical articles by editors and guest authors. In January’s edition, political
scientist María Teresa Romero argues that Chávez will eschew necessary economic
reforms in favor of populism, demagoguery, and antibusiness politics, all in the name of
the people. Chávez, she suggests, has advantages over Venezuela’s previous populist
presidents. He enjoys a far stronger political base—a huge 56 percent of the vote, to
be exact. And his appeal is deeper because he draws on both nationalist and religious
sentiments. He freely invokes Jesus Christ, Simón Bolívar, Walt Whitman, and Che
Guevara, often in the same speeches.
If Chávez is to face any real opposition, it will spring from Congress, argues former
ambassador Guido Grooscors, where the new president does not quite have majority
support. But Chávez has an edge on his detractors, claims journalist Carlos Ball.
He can easily accuse them of corruption. At the first sign of trouble from the opposition,
Chávez could try to disband Congress and produce a constitution that imposes restrictions
on the opposition, all in the name of an anticorruption crusade—and the crowds will
cheer.
Of course, Chávez could prove to be a closeted Alberto Fujimori, who became president
of Peru in 1990 on a similar platform only to turn neoliberal once in office. But if
Chávez “goes Fujimori,” his supporters in Congress will feel abandoned. The
result could be the same: Chávez will be motivated to employ authoritarian tactics to
govern.
The global revolt against liberal economics that swept through Malaysia and reached
Russia in the last year and a half has finally reached Latin America. At least as
troublesome, the election of Chávez is indicative of an increasing disdain for
parliaments by the Latin American public. Many parliamentarians deserve to be disdained.
But when citizens forget the benefits of institutions that hold national leaders
accountable, would-be authoritarians tend to be the biggest winners. Venezuela is not
likely to be an exception.
—Javier Corrales
Associate Professor
Amherst College
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