The obsessional reference to ‘civilizations’ and to the possibility of conflict between them has given way to repeated, and sometimes equally obsessional, calls for ‘dialogue’. They became increasingly common, and Spain resolved to take the international lead after the attacks of March 2004. Turkey, the United Nations and UNESCO then became associated with the project. The ‘Alliance of Civilizations’ has organized numerous seminars, meetings and lectures. The Saudi, Malaysian, Iranian, Turkish, US governments and the European Union have made a positive, and constructive, commitment to multinational debates involving states, NGOs and intellectuals. The ‘dialogue between civilizations’ has certainly been very lively at the diplomatic level.
We cannot but rejoice at that, but we should be wary of lapsing into a naive complacency. It should also be noted that what is referred to as ‘civilizations’ in the plural, is actually referring to only two civilizations – the West and Islam – that seem, in terms of values, cultures, historical development and economic and geostrategic interests, to be in direct competition with one another. Whilst this perception has become more pronounced since the terrorist attacks, there is nothing new about it. It is as though we were talking about two different worlds and as though we had to make a clear distinction between ourselves and the other world and its values in order to enter into a constructive debate with it. Fine words and good intentions are not enough. And the worst thing that could happen in a dialogue between civilizations is a lack of selfunderstanding and the fantasy construct of a closed and ghettoized ‘civilizational identity’ based upon fear and scarred by historical traumas and wounds. A recognition of the diversity of the past, of ourselves and the other, of the other within us, and of our multiple and complex memories is a sine qua non condition for any dialogue or any alliance. In both the West and in Islam, representations are stereotypical and memories are alienated, and both sides have serious doubts. The point is not so much to reach an agreement with the ‘other’ as to decide where the boundaries of our neighbouring territories lie so as to feel comfortable with ourselves and get to know ourselves better. The other civilization is a mirror that should facilitate a collective form of therapy. Once again, the dangerous thing about the concert of civilizations is not the presence of the other, but the ignorance of self.
A dialogue with oneself is a sort of collective introspection. This kind of psychological and/or spiritual exercise is unavoidable. And so is politics. And so are political calculations. An inter-civilizational dialogue or alliance that was interested only in the ‘philosophy of fine feelings’ and never openly tackled political philosophy, power relations, popular frustrations or the respective breaches of elementary consistency, would be seen as a delaying tactic or a way of forgetting, through dialogue, the sometimes cynical policies that are used to protect geostrategic and economic interests. And yet we face so many challenges. Even the most democratic societies have to recognize that their citizens are increasingly reluctant to accept any responsibilities, as Paul Ginsbourg demonstrates in his critical but optimistic Democracy, Crisis and Renewal.[1] The central theme of the dialogue between Marx and Mill described by the author is the need for involvement on the part of citizens with a sense of responsibility. Ginsbourg highlights the crisis facing Western societies, and the ‘apathy and cynicism’ that dominates them. Whilst powers are delegated democratically, there seems to be a widespread ignorance of the meaning of the power of responsibility. Elsewhere, dictatorship and/or corruption rules, and we would do well not to ignore economic relations and their impact upon societies, democracy and governments. Entering into a dialogue also means discussing in critical terms these themes, these difficulties and our contradictions.What, basically, are our intentions?
Do we mean to hide our respective crises and contradictions? To blame others in order better to hide from ourselves? To avoid the real issue? To have a dialogue despite everything, and leave out the ‘important things’, which will be decided elsewhere? Perhaps we have to be at once more humble and more ambitious: in our plural societies, the ‘dialogue between civilizations’ may well begin very close to home and may well be about very concrete issues. Humility here consists in apprehending values and ideas through daily experiences and the actions of everyday life. Ambition implies the belief that nothing is impossible if we begin with real local issues. There are many such issues and they, in historical terms, are inevitably part of the process of renewal at both the national and the international level. We need to have dialogues, debates and dreams. And we need to be lucid. The ideal lucidity we dream of is that of a lucid dream: observing the world as it is, knowing that nothing is impossible, and that the other is not the frontier of my impossibility but the stimulating multiplication of our common possibilities.
[1] Paul Ginsbourg, Democracy, Crisis and Renewal, London: Profile, 2008.
