Author: gd2016

J’accuse…!

[This opinion piece was initially published, in French, in La Libre Belgique on August 9, 2018]

« La terre a une peau et cette peau a des maladies ; une de ces maladies s’appelle l’homme. » (F. Nietzsche)

 

Bruxelles, 17 Avril 1958. Treize ans après la fin de la seconde guerre mondiale et au milieu des « trente glorieuses », la capitale belge accueille la première Exposition Universelle d’après-guerre. Quarante-trois pays sont représentés et 42 millions de visiteurs enthousiastes et confiants s’y rendront pour célébrer la naissance d’une nouvelle modernité. Hélas, peu auront conscience que cette modernité a un prix et qu’elle n’est possible que par l’institutionnalisation d’une dégradation continue de leur environnement.

Ce prix, nous avons commencé à le payer. Cet été, de la Sibérie à l’Europe, en passant par la Californie et le Japon, l’hémisphère nord connaît des températures moyennes bien au-delà de celles enregistrées sur la période 1981-2010, comme le relate ici l’Organisation Météorologique Mondiale. Ces températures anormales ont déjà de multiples conséquences sur la vie quotidienne et la santé de millions d’êtres humains.

Il n’en reste pas moins que l’inertie prévaut et que la transition, quand bien même elle serait amorcée, est jusqu’à présent trop lente pour prévenir un changement de température dangereux pour la survie de l’espèce humaine.

Mais là où la génération de 1958 peut légitimement plaider l’ignorance, cette ligne de défense nous est soustraite. La communauté scientifique a depuis longtemps, via le Groupe d’Experts Intergouvernemental sur le Climat (GIEC), clairement identifié un lien causal entre le niveau de concentration de CO2 dans l’atmosphère et la température moyenne du globe ainsi qu’attribué cette hausse de concentration aux activités humaines.[1]

L’apathie qui caractérise la réaction de l’Homme face à ce défi doit dès lors se comprendre comme le symptôme d’un déni meurtrier et coupable.

Meurtrier, d’abord, car ce déni est une déclaration de guerre qui ne dit pas son nom. Une guerre que nous menons contre nos enfants qui devront s’adapter, s’ils le peuvent, à un environnement plus hostile à la vie humaine ; une guerre menée contre les populations les plus fragiles d’aujourd’hui, pour qui une sécheresse trop prolongée ou une mousson trop importante est synonyme de famine et de mort. Mais surtout, une guerre infâme que nous menons contre nous-mêmes, qui générons pour la race humaine une menace existentielle que nous ne sommes pas certains de pouvoir surmonter.

Coupable, ensuite, parce qu’il m’est difficile de croire que l’Homme qui a développé cette modernité ; celui qui, grâce à son travail acharné soigne des maladies que l’on pensait incurables ; cet Homme, encore, qui a combattu la tyrannie et souffert dans ses geôles, parfois au prix de sa vie, pour gagner sa liberté et celle de ses semblables ; cet Homme, enfin, dont le génie a envoyé ses pairs sur la lune ; que cet Homme-là n’aurait pas les ressources nécessaires pour faire face à cette menace existentielle.

Non, cet Homme-là choisit en connaissance de cause de poser les jalons de sa propre destruction. Il choisit de ne plus croire en sa capacité immense à se renouveler et à créer des mondes nouveaux.

Ce même Homme décide de sacrifier l’intérêt général sur l’autel des intérêts particuliers et coopte des leaders qui s’empresseront de faire de même. Il plébiscite une médiocrité qui finira par l’empêcher de se mobiliser pour engager le changement.

Si nous devions en rester là, alors vous me permettrez de paraphraser E. Zola et de vous dire que l’étoile de l’Humanité, si heureuse jusqu’ici, serait souillée de la plus honteuse, de la plus ineffaçable des taches.

Car cet état de fait que nous semblons accepter passivement n’a rien d’inéluctable.  Il est le résultat de décisions libres, passées et présentes.

Nous pouvons donc aussi faire le choix de nous engager sur la voie d’une transformation radicale, certes ardue, mais ô combien nécessaire si nous voulons assurer notre survie collective. Une transformation qui impliquera nécessairement des bouleversements sociétaux profonds. Mais une transformation choisie vaut mieux qu’une adaptation forcée.

Et quand bien même celle-ci comporterait une part de risque, pourquoi la refuserions-nous cette fois alors que c’est celle-là même qui a permis le progrès continu de l’Humanité, que c’est la curiosité qui lui est associée qui nous a poussés vers de nouvelles terres et connaissances ; et que c’est l’instabilité qui en découle qui a généré de nouveaux équilibres ?

La torpeur actuelle dans laquelle nous semblons plongés est d’autant plus incompréhensible que nous avons non seulement la capacité intellectuelle de mener cette transformation à bien mais aussi, aujourd’hui, les outils économiques et technologiques pour ce faire.

Je ne saurais poursuivre sans prendre le risque trop grand d’une répétition stérile. Il est temps de conclure. J’accuse l’Homme de refuser d’accepter les conséquences de ses propres actes et de continuer d’agir comme si la menace qui pèse sur lui n’était qu’une lointaine chimère.

J’accuse les hommes de poursuivre méthodiquement la destruction de leur environnement et de leur espèce.

J’accuse les hommes de se cacher derrière le voile d’une prétendue impuissance alors qu’ils disposent, à l’inverse d’autres espèces, d’intelligence et de capacité d’agir.

J’accuse les hommes, ici et ailleurs, de choisir des dirigeants qui poursuivront l’iniquité comme une vertu et les enfumeront pour qu’ils se voient moins mourir.

La terre se meurt, et nous aussi. Il faudrait être fou pour espérer que la rédaction de ces quelques lignes change quoi que ce soit à cet état de fait. Mais elles expriment la protestation la plus vive contre l’apathie ambiante et l’idée malvenue que nous n’y pouvons rien.

[1] Groupe d’Experts Intergouvernmental sur l’évolution du climat (2013). Changements climatiques, les éléments scientiques: Résumé á l’intention des décideurs. Disponible en ligne à l’adresse: http://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/assessment-report/ar5/wg1/WG1AR5_SPM_brochure_fr.pdf

A Single European Balancing Act

Nearly a decade has passed since the eruption of the 2008 financial crisis. The world economy may now be on a firmer recovery path – according to the OECD, it is expected to grow by 4% this year and 4.1% in 2019 – but the deep malaise that resulted from the crisis is far from overcome. In Europe, where this anxiety became existential, doing away with it may require a bold (re)balancing act.

The challenges confronting Europe are many. Some of which it may not be the only one to face; but the nature of the institutional organisation of the Old Continent – a multilateral arrangement based on shared sovereignty – makes them particularly difficult to surmount.

Among them, three need our most immediate attention as they have been the source of recurring economic instability and political acrimony, either within or between EU countries: the governance of the Eurozone, adjustment to the consequences of (trade) globalization, and the balance between multilateralism and nationalism.

First, the current Eurozone framework, even after years of – quite frankly minimalist – reforms, is still conducive to the perpetuation of structural internal imbalances and lacks the appropriate adjustment mechanisms, such as proposed by Portuguese president Antonio Costa or French president Emmanuel Macron. To be sure, the existence of these imbalances – some of which pre-date the introduction of the single currency – is due to structural differences (in, e.g., wages, price level) among Eurozone economies which ought to be addressed to achieve greater convergence; but it is simply unacceptable that the institutional design of a tool that ought to bring enhanced prosperity to all people of Europe continues to exacerbate these imbalances and create disproportionate benefits for some while unduly burdening others.

Next, external imbalances also place great constraints on Europe’s capacity to act. Since the end of WWII, it has relied extensively – and perhaps excessively – on the transatlantic (commercial) relationship, leaving it dangerously exposed to the whims and diverging economic or political interests of the US. While there is no denying that Western Europe could not have thrived and reached such living standards as it enjoys today without post-WWII US support, it does not constitute a justification for a situation of permanent dependence.

By relying too much on the protective umbrella of its transatlantic partner, Europe is risking its own future and jeopardising its ability to stand on its own feet. It is relatively clear that whenever the US happened to act in Europe’s interest it was mostly serving its own, which happened to be in alignment. But there are several cases where the US acted in ways that proved detrimental to Europe’s interests and where it was left unarmed. The end of the Bretton Woods system is no minor case in point.

The problem with leaving these issues unresolved is that they are a constant source of frustration and acrimony between EU member states. Every attempt at fixing them drains tremendous resources and political capital away from more productive projects and positive narratives, weakening support for Europe and, ultimately, its ability to take decisive action both domestically and internationally.

Second, Europe needs to revise its intellectual approach to free trade. Free trade between nations is, ultimately, mutually beneficial. But is not without social and political implications, which cannot be discounted when running free trade arrangements through the lens of social cost-benefit analysis. In theory, if actual and efficient redistribution were in place, there could be little intellectual objection to free(r) trade. Unfortunately, the economic crisis has made clear that existing domestic and international institutional arrangements were maladjusted to such consequences.

Making a credible case for renewed multilateral engagement will require to fix the flaws of the current trading system and, in particular, provide adequate protection to the (temporary) losers of freer trade. While this will certainly require some smart institutional and social engineering, it is not impossible. And in cases where flawed redistribution mechanisms make compensation of the losers impossible or highly uncertain, one should also be able to hit the pause button. This will help Europe continue to uphold the multilateral system and prompt a change in the narrative that currently equates multilateralism and economic liberalism with unabated, unregulated, and detrimental, free trade.

Europe would be particularly vulnerable to a collapse of the international trading system. Economically, first, since its sustained wealth relies on the integration of the markets of European countries. The potential (logistical) disruptions that could arise following a no-deal Brexit have raised alarm bells among firms that operate cross-border supply chains, prompting them to highlight the negative impacts (plants shutdown, job losses) that it would have on their activities in the UK. Should this materialise, it would give a (bitter) taste of what the disintegration of the European Single Market would hold for European citizens.

Secondly, a collapse of international trade would also have dire political consequences. Since the institutions that have held European nations together are multilateral in essence and that multilateralism is so intrinsically linked to free trade, any flaw in the international trading system will inevitably undermine the multilateral approach, questioning the entire institutional organisation of the European continent.

Should Europe fail to properly uphold the principles of the Westphalian system of International Relations and multilateral institutions, it would amount to issuing its own death warrant. No doubt populists and other critics of its current institutional organisation would cheer at this idea, arguing that the nation-state is the better substitute. The truth is, however, that no European nation can afford to pay the price of unilateralism.

Third, Europe will need to strike a better balance between its multilateral approach and the (legitimate) aspirations of strong nation states. Multilateralism and nationalism are often presented as being on a collision course but it need not be the case. Multilateralism does not imply the dilution – or worse, abandon – of national identities and values, as it is often reported. It does imply, however, that on issues where cooperation has clear benefits, sovereignty be shared. The possibility of a coexistence between multilateral institutions and national prerogatives needs to be more clearly stated and demonstrated.

This means confronting the critics of multilateralism directly. As was recently pointed out, one cannot simply wish away populists and other extremists. And although engagement with extremes is in itself risky, we will hardly win over their ideas by simply denying their existence. Moreover, there are several areas where liberals stand a good chance to expose the fallacy of their argument, starting with global, multi-stakeholders, issues. Indeed, the populists’ intellectual framework is especially flawed when it comes to such issues. Lacking the intellectual ability to produce a credible answer, they deny their existence in the first place. For example, does it really come as a surprise that a high(er) concentration of climate change deniers, or at least sceptics, are to be found in right-wing populist cenacles?

 

The last decade has been particularly tough on Europe, opening wounds that it has struggled to heal. It urgently needs to solve and move beyond some of the issues that have clouded its sky. Only then will it (re)open the path to shared prosperity and dissipate its citizens’ malaise.

Humanity in the face of Climate Change: Dead Man Walking?

Every year, The Economist publishes a special “The World IF” supplement which provides a fast forward into a yet to create, but plausible, future. For example, this year’s supplement pondered the consequences of a successful implementation of Emmanuel Macron’s reforms in France, reflected on the spread of a Universal Basic Income, or discussed the mayhem that might have been avoided, had the Ottoman Empire not collapsed. It did not, however, discuss any scenario even remotely related to the Earth’s Climate.

Never mind, The New York Magazine filled the gap. In its article The Uninhabitable Earth, David-Wallace Wells carried out a thought experiment that purposely emphasised worst case climate scenarios. The picture is unsurprisingly gloomy, if not frightening: in short, human life as we know it will have disappeared by 2100. In comparison to Humanity’s history, this means tomorrow.

This article comes after the publication, in recent months, of a series of reports and scientific papers pointing at some alarming developments as well as the increased likelihood of some of the most catastrophic scenarios. Among them, a study published in Environmental Research Letters indicates that peak summer temperatures could reach 50C in some parts of France if GHG emissions continue to go unchecked. Another claims that New York City could face temperatures as high as present day Bahrain. A third by Elfatih Eltahir and colleagues at MIT, published in Science Advances, pointed at the increased likelihood of deadly heatwaves in South Asia, in a business as usual scenario.

To be sure, these studies should not all be taken at face value, for, first, there are great uncertainties surrounding them and, second, a no action scenario is unlikely. Yet, as Wells’ article highlights with great mastery, feeling the heat might well be the least of our worries and it is clear that the world is not doing enough, as yet. Hence those studies remain extremely valuable in that they help picturing a most unpalatable state of the world and can help to rationalise present day action.

Alas, just as the dozens published before them, these went mostly unnoticed by the wider public. But there is, in this respect, something increasingly troubling and incoherent.

First, when the concerns about the effects of GHG accumulation on Global Mean Temperature – and likely adverse economic consequences – first emerged, “doing nothing” was considered as a legitimate option (Barbier & Pierce, 1990). To put it in Ted Nordhaus’ terms, one of the most respected figures in the economics of Climate Change, “[at the time], the best investment to ameliorate the CO2 problem [was] probably to expand our CO2 knowledge”. Roughly a quarter of a century later, substantial investment has gone into the expansion of that knowledge. Our understanding is now much, much clearer, whatever the climate-sceptics and other opportunists might say.

Second, inaction on the part of current generations becomes increasingly time-inconsistent. For a long time, another powerful driver behind climate inaction has been that living generations would refuse to (radically) alter their ways of living (and incur the related cost) to the benefit of future unborn generations. They were somehow lead to believe that they had an unalienable entitlement to their current living standards, even if it should jeopardise that of future generations. Only a form of altruism towards the latter could prompt action on the part of living cohorts. But as it becomes increasingly clear that some (damaging) effects of climate change will be felt within my (our) generation’s lifetime, it is ever more difficult to rationalise inaction on the grounds of self-interest.

Hence two powerful (albeit ethically questionable) rationales for inaction have had their day. For those generations born in an era of full climate change awareness and bound to experience some of its consequences, adopting the same consumption patterns and behaviours as their predecessors is waging a war against themselves. It is waging a war against their own, current and future, enjoyments.

Unfortunately, as Niall Ferguson, the Harvard Historian, once put it: “we are at war and we are winning it”. The list of Climate Change related environmental damages (and diminished human enjoyment, provided you care about the recreational and life-supporting value of Nature) is already long. Gone is the time where one would dive off the coast of Australia to explore the wonders of the Great Coral Reef; gone, as well, are breath-taking hikes in some of the most pristine places of the world, now regularly ravaged by wildfires.[1]

If you think that this sounds a bit too nostalgic to fit into a rational approach to the issue, think again. True, nostalgia is not the best of counsellors: our ability to return to past places and revive old memories, instants, snapshots of life, is anyway limited by the passing of time, which alters the reality we experience. But there are always some parts of that reality that remain and such experiences which we hope to reiterate in a near future. Climate Change has the capacity to alter that reality in radical ways, stretching our psychological adaptation capacities and imposing stringent constraints on our ability to enjoy what we cherish most.[2]

Hence, from the perspective of my generation, the consequences of Climate Change have been brought much closer, both in space and time. The legitimate question is then: why still so passive? I believe that there are two phenomena at play.

First, there are a series of potential explanations pertaining to human nature.

  1. (Really) high discount rate: humans care much about their present consumption habits, ways of life, and (very) little about their future consumption;
  2. Weak credibility of scientific consensus: no such thing as human-induced climate change exist or doomsday scenarios will not materialise;
  3. Stark psychological flaws: humans are fundamentally unable to conceive of the possibility of large future shocks.

Given the overwhelming macroeconomic evidence that human beings optimise their lifetime consumption, I would be surprised if the first motive bore any significance. Rather, I would be inclined to believe that the root of the problem lies with 2 and 3.

Second, there is also a cultural explanation to the present situation. The Judaeo-Christian tradition, which supports most of the Western World’s value-system, assumes that Humanity can (and should) domesticate nature. Besides, it assumes that there is barely any limit to its ability to engineer its way into the future and cope with the (unintended) consequences of its Modernity.

This is an arrogant and potentially deadly misrepresentation of the reality: arrogant because human beings only deal with such consequences that have direct and immediate implications for themselves and potentially deadly because of the unparalleled time lag between causes and consequences in the World’s Global Mean Temperature patterns.

So where to look for solutions? I do not deny that a large part of the answer will be technological; but technological change won’t come soon enough if the need for change is not duly acknowledged. In that respect, the above discussion suggests two potent ways forward. First, we ought to work towards a change in the public representation of Climate Change and make clear(er) that it will have material effects within one’s lifetime. The closer to that view we bring individuals’ perception of the CO2 problem, the more likely they are to understand the necessity of change. Second, such transformation would be greatly enhanced by a change in personal and social ethics that would see Mankind do away with its veil of arrogance.

Given the inertia that characterises human behaviour, this will be a challenge. But I like to believe that it will be precisely that, a challenge, not an insurmountable task. And unlike previous generations, we have no excuse not face it: we are aware of it and we will live through its consequences.

In a way, our current predicament reminds me of two Hollywood blockbusters: “Dead Man Walking” and “The Others”. In the former, Sean Penn faces a death sentence and runs against the clock to prove his innocence; in the latter, Nicole Kidman, living with her two photosensitive children, is convinced that her house is haunted – until one realises that they are dead and haunting the house.

There is a chance that we are like Sean Penn, facing a death sentence but with the possibility to prove our innocence and escape it, eventually. But for this scenario to materialise, we should at least show some commitment to proving our innocence. Until that happens, it is far more likely that we will end up like Nicole: dead before we know it.

[1] Moreover, as a recent report by 13 US Federal Agencies points out, several effects of Climate Change are already unfolding across the US territory.

[2] This is not to mention the impact it might have on our capacity to satisfy our most basic needs.

On citizenship

The Tory party congress held last week in Birmingham sparked tremendous controversy, not least because of Theresa May’s statement on citizenship. “If you are a citizen of the world, you are a citizen of nowhere”, she said. From a legalist and formal perspective, she is absolutely right: in the absence of World Government and hence global political community to be part of, the concept of global citizenship is inane.

Whether her point remains valid when looked at through the lens of people’s personal aspirations and informal sense of belonging is much less clear: citizens of the world have – sometimes strong – local bonds, which they build upon to become part of a broader global community. Moreover, those local memberships are sometimes multiple: individuals feel bound to more than one place. Hence, if anything, citizens of the world are citizens from everywhere.

In the midst of the same lyrical musings, Mrs May carried on to say that the same people who identify themselves with a hypothetical global citizenship “do not understand what citizenship means”. I disagree.

Citizenship, in its original sense, indicated membership of a politically organised community living on the territory of a city and, from the Antiquity onward, has been associated with political rights and duties. As such communities soon started to extend beyond the geographical boundaries of cities, the concept grew out of its geographical references to indicate membership of any formally recognised political constituency. Nowadays, citizenship is identified with membership of a political community living on the territory of sovereign nation-states.

This does not mean, however, that local citizenship has been abandoned, nor negated. It simply means that it is encompassed by a broader, formally recognised citizenship. Citizenship, in that sense, is multi-dimensional or, more accurately, multi-layered, regardless of any formal recognition.

This is why Mrs May’s use of the concept is deeply misleading — so much that I am left wondering whether she was speaking for herself when blaming those who don’t understand its meaning. She is viewing global and local citizenship as mutually exclusive whereas they are, in fact, truly complementary. The global and local political communities to which the different citizenships pertain do not deal with the same set of issues and, except for specific and clearly identified cases, do not not appeal to the same formal competences.

The best formal example of that complementarity is EU citizenship. Introduced by the Maastricht Treaty (1992), it was precisely crafted along the view that it should be additional to formal national level political belonging (“[…]. Citizenship of the Union shall be additional to and not replace national citizenship.”, Art. 20, TFUE).

As a Belgian citizen currently established in the UK and having successively lived in different European cities, I have probably made an extensive use of that citizenship. But acknowledging that, my European belonging hasn’t clashed with the many local citizenships that I have taken while moving around. My citizenship has been in flux, subject to constant redefinition. When I left my hometown for the first time, I knew that I would gradually lose the sense of political belonging that I had harboured with it but that a new one would soon emerge. Never has my European citizenship prevented me from trying to understand and abide by the rules of the citizenship of the places I have settled in. The various layers of my citizenship have simply made me aware of different issues and causes of concern.

Now, one may object that my view is biased by my own personal trajectory. But as recently pointed out by the Washington Post, a study conducted by GlobeScan in eighteen nations, showed that 47 percent of Britons would somewhat or strongly agree that they see themselves more as global citizens than citizens of the United Kingdom. Similar results have been noted in other countries. Hence the disturbing fact about Mrs May’s discourse is that by opposing the complementarity of local and global citizenship and downplaying – if not discarding – the latter, she is neglecting part of the UK’s own citizens’ identity.

Rather than trying to crush that global citizenship, which many citizens of the world long for, a far better strategy for Mrs May – and political representatives elsewhere – would be to design a strategy to articulate it with its local counterpart and ensure their smooth co-existence.

On modernity and democracy – a very short thought

Nous vivons dans une ère de relativisme moral, intellectuel et philosophique. Cet état est la conséquence aussi bien que la cause de l’incapacité des sociétés modernes à définir, reconnaître et accepter leur identité. Par là même, elles rendent impossible la relation à l’altérité, la compréhension d’une identité autre. Comment, en effet, définir “autrui” lorsqu’on est dans l’incapacité de définir qui l’on est? Le rejet est alors la seule issue envisageable et envisagée.

Cette méconnaissance d’elles-mêmes rend les sociétés démocratiques vulnérables; vulnérables face à des attaques extérieures, certes, mais, plus que tout, vulnérables aux dynamiques de destruction qui existent en leur sein. La Démocratie, “le moins mauvais des systèmes”, n’est jamais plus dangereuse que lorsque, inconsciente, elle se met à agir contre elle même.

Strategy as resilience

There are only a few words (if any) that can describe the shock created by the attack in Paris. Yet this should not leave us speechless. Its very nature and motivation requires that we put words on the frustration and shock it generated. And its possible repetition requires that we address the question it raises.

The risk of a terrorist attack driven by religious considerations on European soil is not new. This risk materialised several times in the last decade: Madrid’s Atocha rail station in 2004, in London’s public transports in 2005, to name but a few. Yet, what lessons have we drawn from these? The only – very poor indeed – answer has been a reinforcement of European countries’ national security schemes. Not only does it often prove useless, but it also does nothing to improve society’s resilience.

We seem to have acknowledged that the value-system on which European societies are based is under threat and that the risk of a deliberate and destabilising attack on its foundations exists but, we, as organised communities and open societies, have so far failed to produce a meaningful strategy to hedge against this risk and protect our civilisational foundations.

I have no claim to exhaustivity but I believe that such a strategy should include the following elements. First, we ought to examine the roots of religious radicalism. That is, try to understand why, at some point in time and in some geographical areas, groups of individuals have developed a hatred view of Western values and institutions. However unjustifiable this blind bloodshed may be, the West may hold some responsibility in the wounds that are inflicted.

Second, we ought to have an open  and more regular discussion on our value-system, our identity. Too often, the debate about them is dismissed on the grounds that the values on which the society is based are obvious and self-explanatory. This is however far from true and holding an explicit debate on them contributes to a healthy functioning of communities.

Third, we need to commit to the unconditional defence these values. This, however, does not mean that our value-system is a rigid set, proof to external influences. It only signifies that we shall never accept that it be modified through deliberate external attacks. We are sovereign, and sole legitimate to alter the nature of our value-system. It must be made clear that the only tolerated means of interaction is dialogue and mutual understanding. Any other way ought to be crushed. Hence, we must unambiguously stand against any obscurantist religious veil. It must also be clear that against any act of violence targeted at our civilisational identity, we will stand. But it must also be unambiguous that we will stand against any form of stigmatisation and marginalisation of specific communities.

Defining such a strategy is the best way to assure every member of society that he belongs to a group that is prepared and resilient enough to withstand shocks such as the one created by terrorist attacks. Hence, there would be no need for individuals to retrench in a fear that is to our democratic societies what cancer is to a living body: a steadily and silently growing illness that eventually kills swiftly.

I won’t pray for Paris…

No, I won’t pray for Paris. I won’t pray for Paris just as I won’t pray for Beirut and Sharm-El-Sheikh and just as I haven’t prayed for Lockerbie (1983) — I was yet to be born, New-York (2001), Madrid (2004), London (2005), Marrakech (2011), Nairobi (2013) or any other place in the world that has been struck by acts of gruesome violence, however despicable they are.

I won’t pray for a world that seems to be offering nothing else than a place to suffer. I won’t pray for a world that sailed through two World Wars and, every now and then, still likes to play with the idea of an — even proxy — third one. I won’t pray for a world that had to let 13 people go in Columbine (1999) and still doesn’t seem to raise an eyebrow in 2015. I won’t pray for a world that has allowed proxy wars to be played in the Middle East for decades — probably for its own enjoyment — and now wonders why it backfires.

I won’t pray for a world that allows destruction to descend upon itself today just as it has allowed it for as long as History goes. I won’t pray for a world that has essentially done this to itself. I won’t pray for a world that has birthed extremism.

That world is shitty, rotten and despicable and does not deserve any prayer. I won’t pray.

I won’t pray but I will fight. I will fight for our understanding of Liberty, which has taken centuries to establish and claimed so many lives on the way. I will fight for our Freedom, which any single attack of this kind jeopardises ever more. I will fight to uphold our Institutions. I will fight for our Value-System, which forms the basis of our « living together ». I will fight.

I won’t pray but I will stand. I will stand for Openness in the face of Insularity. I will stand for Mutual Understanding, notwithstanding temptations to break up (already thin) intercultural relations. I will stand against political and religious Obscurantism. I will stand against Fear, fear of others and fear for our lives.

I won’t pray but I shall resist. Primarily, I shall resist against that part of myself tempted to cede to Insularity, Obscurantism and Fear, that part of myself tired to build Mutual Understanding and cross-cultural ties. And I shall resist those ceding to these temptations and try to drag others with them, for they are the very roots of our ills. I shall resist.

These attacks are aiming at the roots of our civilisations, at the core of what we stand for. Let’s use our civilizational founding principles and the core of our value-system as a guidance for our answer.

(I don’t know where your fight starts. Mine starts here.)

Preserving Europe’s Peace Dividend

How much is Peace worth? Ask anyone who has experienced war and, passed a moment of puzzlement where your interlocutor will ponder whether to take the question seriously, he will probably laugh. Rightly so. To those, peace is invaluable: bombs landing in their backyard not only took away their flowers and trees; they broke their families and killed their friends; they put an abrupt end to their world, creating psychological wounds that would hardly heal and instigating a degree of mistrust that would take generations to fade. Bombs put men and societies to their knees.

For us, Europeans born well after WWII, those images and feelings are fortunately not part of our collective memory. But it has an unfortunate consequence: since we haven’t seen our immediate environment transformed in battlefield, we take peace – and its associated benefits – for granted. And by failing to consciously think about its institutionalization, we open the door to the creation of institutions that will eventually facilitate war.

Yet, if History is any guide to us, peace is higly valuable: it has presided to all sus- tained process of wealth creation, social progress and intellectual development. Economists talk about a Peace Dividend – the fact that when an economy is not at peace, it can allocate (human, physical, financial,…) resources to sectors that ought to create more value and well-being for its citizens. Europe, which has enjoyed such a dividend for nearly seventy years, is an obvious case in point. As the war ended and as the International Community took steps to “clean the battlefield”, the benefits of Peace started to flow through its veins: Soviet tanks on the Helden Platz in Vienna were replaced by street shops and joyful citizens, interstate business resumed and trust between European people (re)emerged.

Today, this European Peace Dividend is at risk. Successive crises have created multiple divides among European nations and undermined people’s confidence in the only institu- tion that has ever brought sustained peace to their lands: the European Union. Moreover, external pressures have reinforced these internal dissensions: the Union is threatened on its north-eastern (direct diplomatic an military intimidation from Moscow), eastern (conflict in Ukraine) and southern (Libya) borders. Not even mentioning the slightly more remote but no less dangerous threat represented by ISIS.

So far, the EU has failed to provide a fully convincing answer to those issues. This doesn’t mean it is not trying hard. Since the Juncker Commission took office, things have changed in Brussels. On nearly all matters, this Commission has adopted a more politically pragmatic approach, prioritising direct engagement with Member States over Brussels-based political dogmatism, and acknowledging criticism while creating space for expression of Member States’ national sensitivities.

Yet, this will still leave many in doubt as to the relevance of the European Union. Those will continue to argue that, in many ways, it has failed to deliver and is no longer fit for purpose. Yet, I would argue otherwise, for the EU hasn’t failed on its primary purpose: delivering peace to a continent that has been at war since the dawn of time. Dismantling the only institution that has ever succeded in making war not “not merely unthinkable but materially impossible”, is not a risk I want to take.