(Published in the Bangkok Post, February 17, 2014)
BY PHILIP J CUNNINGHAM
Chess maestro Garry Kasparov
has made a small but meaningful contribution to free speech in journalistic
circles by challenging the widely-held taboo about invoking Hitler’s name as a
cautionary warning.
Anticipating a predictable
avalanche of knee-jerk responses negating his argument comparing Putin’s
handling of the Sochi Olympics to Hitler’s handling of the Berlin Olympics of
1936, Kasparov made a small but important point: “even Hitler himself wasn’t
always Hitler.”
Before Hitler was Hitler,
Adolf was just another Adolf. Even if it is taken as a given that Hitler at his
worst was the worst tyrant of his time, it does not follow that looking for
Hitler-like traits in current leaders is without foundation, nor is it
pointless to suggest that certain manipulative populist politicians are
sufficiently cold-hearted, ego-driven and skilled enough in methods used by the
Nazis that they would turn their country into a private fiefdom if they could
get away with it.
Hitler had once been a baby,
a little boy, a student, an ambitious provincial, a loser, a loner, a devourer
of crackpot ideas who became a charismatic beer hall speaker and organizer of a
fringe movement long before he ever won an election or his name became
synonymous with evil personified.
If there is a lesson from the
rise of Hitler and his Nazi political machine it is that evil needs to be
recognized, curbed and contained in a timely manner; it must not be allowed to
flower.
Recent history provides
shocking examples where an attractive civilized nation morphed into an
abhorrent barbaric state in a few short years. The cosmopolitan and culturally
rich societies of Taisho Japan and Weimar Germany were both replaced by fascist
regimes within a decade.
It’s not an indictment of
national DNA; it could happen anywhere.
That’s why everyone,
everywhere, has to be vigilant. That’s why America, despite its lip service to
elections and the transformative powers Silicon Valley and Hollywood, has to
stem the tide of creeping authoritarianism, as epitomized by intrusive spying
and over-reliance on guns and drones.
That’s why Thailand, a
tropical paradise to the world’s tourists, a Buddhist beacon in a troubled
world, has to be on guard against allowing a power-hungry billionaire from
taking remote control of the economy and critical government functions.
Laos and Cambodia were
routinely described as gentle and idyllic in the old guide books, saw social
collapse, and in the case of the Khmer Rouge, the emergence of a political
force comparable to Nazism in its paranoid brutality.
The rise of a charismatic
leader begs hard questions; what are the mechanisms that make it possible for
one person to enjoy such power and influence over fellow citizens? How can otherwise sensitive and sensible
people allow themselves to be led astray by a self-serving, greedy leader who
is quick to use, abuse and discard “the people” like a worn-out boat once he
crosses the river and starts to climb the mountain of penultimate power?
The process is
well-documented in the case of Germany; the Nazis used elections to end all
elections, they used propaganda to smother alternative points of view, they
used storm troopers and vigilantes to create a spell of shock, awe and fear,
and they demolished traditional checks and balances until they had free run of
the country.
In reading the recently
re-published, “Hitler: The Memoir of a Nazi Insider Who Turned Against the
Fuhrer” by Ernst Hanfstaengl, one
gets a ringside view of Hitler before he became Hitler. Honest to a fault, the
author admits he was dazzled by the Fuhrer’s oratory and audacity, even if the
man was homely and lonely and the ideas being expressed were a muddle of
crackpot schemes and shallow, callous prejudice.
Reading about how a
Harvard-educated historian and musician fell for the Fuhrer sheds light on how
people fall for populist leaders. If Hanfstaengl has it right, the folksy
charm, the stirring of hope and the skillful use of propaganda blinded people
to the diabolical side of things that were hidden in plain sight.
Looking back,
if there were any humane way to shutdown Hitler’s political program before it
became unstoppable, would that not be a good thing?
There is no
Hitler in Thailand today, of course, but tried and tested techniques of
Nazi-style populism, propaganda, manipulation and control are evident and cause
for concern.
Seeing signs of
this, an embattled opposition is crying foul, pointing to the machinations of
an ambitious political clan headed by a cult-like leader. The stakes are high.
Police storm-troopers in service of the clan have already been deployed,
carrying heavy-duty weapons, poised to enforce the ruling clique’s chokehold on
power.
Fortunately,
rank and file red shirts are already showing signs of seeing through the phony
populism; the Yingluck government’s sleazy rice-pricing gamble, hoping to make
a cash killing off the sweat and toil of rice farmers puts paid the myth that
Pheu Thai is a party for the poor.
Nobody can say
for sure where Thailand is going these days as divisive currents run wild and
vested interests vie for power.
But the runaway
train of ambition and greed of a powerful clan appears to have been momentarily
derailed in Bangkok streets and plazas thick with peaceful protesters.
The image of a
lone woman on the pavement reciting Buddhist mantras in front of a phalanx of
riot police decked out in storm-trooper gear alights a tender hope, that right
still has a chance to triumph over might.
She may be a
dreamer, but she’s not the only one.
