TBILISI, Georgia
Halfway through an otherwise coherent conversation with a Georgian lawyer here — the topics included judges, the court system, the police — I was startled by a comment he made about his country’s former government, led by then-president Mikheil Saakashvili. “They were LGBT,” he said, conspiratorially.
What did that mean, I asked, surprised. Were they for lesbian,
gay, bisexual and transgender rights? For gay marriage? Were they
actually gay? He couldn’t really define it, though the conversation
meandered in that direction for a few more minutes, also touching on the
subject of the former president’s alleged marital infidelity, his
promotion of female politicians, his lack of respect for the church.
Afterward,
I worked it out. The lawyer meant to say that Saakashvili — who drove
his country hard in the direction of Europe, pulled Georgia as close to
NATO as possible and used rough tactics to fight the post-Soviet mafia
that dominated his country — was “too Western.” Not conservative enough.
Not traditional enough. Too much of a modernizer, a reformer, a
European. In the past, such a critic might have called Saakashvili a “rootless cosmopolitan.”
But today the insulting code word for that sort of person in the former
Soviet space — regardless of what he or she thinks about homosexuals —
is LGBT.
It was an eye-opening moment. Like Ukraine, Georgia is a
post-Soviet republic that has tried to pull itself out of the Russian
sphere of influence. Unlike Ukraine, Georgia does not have a sizable
Russian-speaking population, and Georgians even have cause to fear
Russia. Since their 2008 invasion, Russian troops have occupied
the Georgian regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, about one-fifth of
the country. Russian tanks are parked a few hours’ drive from Georgia’s
capital.
Yet despite the absence of Russian speakers, a form of
Russia’s anti-Western ideology can be felt in Georgia, too. It’s a
minority view that drifts in through religious leaders — part of the
Georgian Orthodox Church retains ties to Moscow — through some
pro-Kremlin political parties and Russian-backed media. But it finds
indigenous support, taking the form of xenophobic, anti-European and,
nowadays, anti-homosexual rhetoric. Sometimes it becomes an argument in
favor of local oligarchs or economic clans and against foreign
investment or rules that would create an even playing field. It always
focuses on Western decadence, economic or sexual, and welcomes any sign
of Western hesitancy. When President Obama told the world this week
that Georgia — which has for a decade been striving with active U.S.
encouragement to meet NATO partnership standards — is “not on a path to NATO membership,” he immediately strengthened that set of arguments in Tbilisi.
Whether
we like it or not, foreign policy choices increasingly have domestic
consequences in the post-Soviet world. An alignment with Russia can
bring Russian-style corruption and can inspire the rise of Russian-style
xenophobia and homophobia, too. An alignment with Europe and NATO has
different consequences. With Russian financial and political support,
for example, Ukraine’s ousted president, Viktor Yanukovych, was able to
rob his country’s coffers and destroy its army and its bureaucracy. If
the new Ukrainian government stays on its current path and makes a
different set of alliances — with the European Union, the International
Monetary Fund, even NATO — it will end up with different domestic
economic policies, too.
There are implications further afield as well. During his Brussels speech this week, Obama also declared that Russia leads “no bloc of nations, no global ideology.”
This is true, up to a point: Russia’s “ideology” isn’t well-defined or
clear. But the U.S. president was wrong to imply that the Russian
president’s rhetoric, and his annexation of Crimea, has no wider echo.
Of course there were the predictable supporters of Russia in the United
Nations: Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua, North Korea. More interesting are
his new European friends. Nigel Farage, the leader of the United Kingdom
Independence Party (UKIP) — an anti-European and anti-immigrant party
that is gaining momentum in Britain — declared last week that the
European Union has “blood on its hands”
for negotiating a free-trade agreement in Ukraine. Marine Le Pen,
leader of the French far-right National Front, has also said she prefers
France to “lean toward Russia”
rather than “submit to the United States.” Jobbik, Hungary’s far-right
party, sent a representative to the Crimean referendum and declared it “exemplary.” These are all minority parties, but they are all poised to make gains in European elections this spring.
Russia’s
ideology may be mishmash: the old Soviet critique of hypocritical
“bourgeois democracy,” plus some anti-Europeanism, some anti-globalism
and a homophobic twist for contemporary appeal. But let’s not assume
that competition between ideas is absurd and old-fashioned. And let’s
not pretend that ideologies don’t matter, because even if we’d prefer
otherwise, they do.
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