CULTURAL EXPLANATIONS, THE MAN IN THE BAGHDAD CAFÉ
The Economist, 9 novembre 1996
Which “civilisation” you belong to matters less than you might think
GOERING, it was said, growled that every time he heard the word culture he reached for his revolver. His hand would ache today. Since the end of the cold war, “culture” has been everywhere-not the opera-house or gallery kind, but the sort that claims to be the basic driving force behind human behaviour. All over the world, scholars and politicians seek to explain economics, politics and diplomacy in terms of “culture-areas” rather than, say, policies or ideas, economic interests, personalities or plain cock-ups.
Perhaps the best-known example is the notion that “Asian values” explain the success of the tiger economies of South-East Asia. Other accounts have it that international conflict is-or will be-caused by a clash of civilisations; or that different sorts of business organisation can be explained by how much people in different countries trust one other. These four pages review the varying types of cultural explanation. They conclude that culture is so imprecise and changeable a phenomenon that it explains less than most people realise.
To see how complex the issue is, begin by considering the telling image with which Bernard Lewis opens his history of the Middle East. A man sits at a table in a coffee house in some Middle Eastern city, “drinking a cup of coffee or tea, perhaps smoking a cigarette, reading a newspaper, playing a board game, and listening with half an ear to whatever is coming out of the radio or the television installed in the corner.” Undoubtedly Arab, almost certainly Muslim, the man would clearly identify himself as a member of these cultural groups. He would also, if asked, be likely to say that “western culture” was alien, even hostile to them.
Look closer, though, and the cultural contrasts blur. This coffee-house man probably wears western-style clothes-sneakers, jeans, an open-neck shirt. The chair at which he sits, the coffee he drinks, the tobacco he smokes, the newspaper he reads, all are western imports. The radio and television are western inventions. If our relaxing friend is a member of his nation's army, he probably operates western or Soviet weapons and trains according to western standards; if he belongs to the government, both his bureaucratic surroundings and the constitutional trappings of his regime may owe their origins to western influence.
The upshot, for Mr Lewis, is clear enough. “In modern times,” he writes, “the dominating factor in the consciousness of most Middle Easterners has been the impact of Europe, later of the West more generally, and the transformation-some would say dislocation-which it has brought.” Mr Lewis has put his finger on the most important and least studied aspect of cultural identity: how it changes. It would be wise to keep that in mind during the upsurge of debate about culture that is likely to follow the publication of Samuel Huntington's new book, “The Clash of Civilisations and the Remaking of World Order”.
The clash of civilisations
A professor of international politics at Harvard and the chairman of Harvard's Institute for Strategic Planning, Mr Huntington published in 1993, in Foreign Affairs, an essay which that quarterly's editors said generated more discussion than any since George Kennan's article (under the by-line “X”) which argued in July 1947 for the need to contain the Soviet threat. Henry Kissinger, a former secretary of state, called Mr Huntington's book-length version of the article “one of the most important books . . . since the end of the cold war.”
The article, “The Clash of Civilisations?”, belied the question-mark in its title by predicting wars of culture. “It is my hypothesis”, Mr Huntington wrote, “that the fundamental source of conflict in this new world will not be primarily ideological or primarily economic. The great divisions among humankind and the dominating source of conflict will be cultural.”
After the cold war, ideology seemed less important as an organising principle of foreign policy. Culture seemed a plausible candidate to fill the gap. So future wars, Mr Huntington claimed, would occur “between nations and groups of different civilisations” – western, Confucian, Japanese, Islamic, Hindu, Orthodox and Latin American, perhaps African and Buddhist. Their clash would “dominate global politics” and the battle-lines of the future would follow the fault-lines between these cultures.
No mincing words there, and equally few in his new book:
Culture and cultural identities . . . are shaping the patterns of cohesion, disintegration and conflict in the post-cold war world . . . Global politics is being reconfigured along cultural lines.
Mr Huntington is only one of an increasing number of writers placing stress on the importance of cultural values and institutions in the confusion left in the wake of the cold war. He looked at the influence of culture on international conflict. Three other schools of thought find cultural influences at work in different ways.
• Culture and the economy. Perhaps the oldest school holds that cultural values and norms equip people-and, by extension, countries-either poorly or well for economic success. The archetypal modern pronouncement of this view was Max Weber's investigation of the Protestant work ethic. This, he claimed, was the reason why the Protestant parts of Germany and Switzerland were more successful economically than the Catholic areas. In the recent upsurge of interest in issues cultural, a handful of writers have returned to the theme.
It is “values and attitudes-culture”, claims Lawrence Harrison, that are “mainly responsible for such phenomena as Latin America's persistent instability and inequity, Taiwan's and Korea's economic ‘miracles’, and the achievements of the Japanese.” Thomas Sowell offers other examples in “Race and Culture: A World View”. “A disdain for commerce and industry”, he argues, “has . . . been common for centuries among the Hispanic elite, both in Spain and in Latin America.” Academics, though, have played a relatively small part in this debate: the best-known exponent of the thesis that “Asian values” – a kind of Confucian work ethic-aid economic development has been Singapore's former prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew.
• Culture as social blueprint. A second group of analysts has looked at the connections between cultural factors and political systems. Robert Putnam, another Harvard professor, traced Italy's social and political institutions to its “civic culture”, or lack thereof. He claimed that, even today, the parts of Italy where democratic institutions are most fully developed are similar to the areas which first began to generate these institutions in the 14th century. His conclusion is that democracy is not something that can be put on like a coat; it is part of a country's social fabric and takes decades, even centuries, to develop.
Francis Fukuyama, of George Mason University, takes a slightly different approach. In a recent book which is not about the end of history, he focuses on one particular social trait, “trust”. “A nation's well-being, as well as its ability to compete, is conditioned by a single, pervasive cultural characteristic: the level of trust inherent in the society,” he says. Mr Fukuyama argues that “low-trust” societies such as China, France and Italy-where close relations between people do not extend much beyond the family-are poor at generating large, complex social institutions like multinational corporations; so they are at a competitive disadvantage compared with “high-trust” nations such as Germany, Japan and the United States.
• Culture and decision-making. The final group of scholars has looked at the way in which cultural assumptions act like blinkers. Politicians from different countries see the same issue in different ways because of their differing cultural backgrounds. Their electorates or nations do, too. As a result, they claim, culture acts as an international barrier. As Ole Elgstrom puts it: “When a Japanese prime minister says that he will ‘do his best’ to implement a certain policy,” Americans applaud a victory but “what the prime minister really meant was ‘no’.” There are dozens of examples of misperception in international relations, ranging from Japanese-American trade disputes to the misreading of Saddam Hussein's intentions in the weeks before he attacked Kuwait.
What are they talking about?
All of this is intriguing, and much of it is provocative. It has certainly provoked a host of arguments. For example, is Mr Huntington right to lump together all European countries into one culture, though they speak different languages, while separating Spain and Mexico, which speak the same one? Is the Catholic Philippines western or Asian? Or: if it is true (as Mr Fukuyama claims) that the ability to produce multinational firms is vital to economic success, why has “low-trust” China, which has few such companies, grown so fast? And why has yet-more successful “low-trust” South Korea been able to create big firms?
This is nit-picking, of course. But such questions of detail matter because behind them lurks the first of two fundamental doubts that plague all these cultural explanations: how do you define what a culture is?
In their attempts to define what cultures are (and hence what they are talking about), most “culture” writers rely partly on self definition: cultures are what people think of themselves as part of. In Mr Huntington's words, a civilisation “is the broadest level of identification with which [a person] intensely identifies.”
The trouble is that relatively few people identify “intensely” with broad cultural groups. They tend to identify with something narrower: nations or ethnic groups. Europe is a case in point. A poll done last year for the European Commission found that half the people of Britain, Portugal and Greece thought of themselves in purely national terms; so did a third of the Germans, Spaniards and Dutch. And this was in a part of the world where there is an institution-the EU itself-explicitly devoted to the encouragement of “Europeanness”.
The same poll found that in every EU country, 70% or more thought of themselves either purely in national terms, or primarily as part of a nation and only secondly as Europeans. Clearly, national loyalty can coexist with wider cultural identification. But, even then, the narrower loyalty can blunt the wider one because national characteristics often are-or at least are often thought to be-peculiar or unique. Seymour Martin Lipset, a sociologist who recently published a book about national characteristics in the United States, called it “American Exceptionalism”. David Willetts, a British Conservative member of Parliament, recently claimed that the policies espoused by the opposition Labour Party would go against the grain of “English exceptionalism”. And these are the two components of western culture supposedly most like one another.
In Islamic countries, the balance between cultural and national identification may be tilted towards the culture. But even here the sense of, say, Egyptian or Iraqi or Palestinian nationhood remains strong. (Consider the competing national feelings unleashed during the Iran-Iraq war.) In other cultures, national loyalty seems pre-eminent. In Mr Huntington's classification, Thailand, Tibet and Mongolia all count as “Buddhist”. It is hard to imagine that a Thai, a Tibetan and a Mongolian really have that much in common.
So the test of subjective identification is hard to apply. That apart, the writers define a culture in the usual terms: language, religion, history, customs and institutions and so on. Such multiple definitions ring true. As Bernard Lewis's coffee-drinker suggests, cultures are not singular things: they are bundles of characteristics.
The trouble is that such characteristics are highly ambiguous. Some push one way, some another.
Culture as muddle
Islamic values, for instance, are routinely assumed to be the antithesis of modernising western ones. In Islam, tradition is good; departure from tradition is presumed to be bad until proven otherwise. Yet, at the same time, Islam is also a monotheistic religion which encourages rationalism and science. Some historians have plausibly argued that it was the Islamic universities of medieval Spain that kept science and rationalism alive during Europe's Dark Ages, and that Islam was a vital medieval link between the ancient world of Greece and Rome and the Renaissance. The scientific-rationalist aspect of Islam could well come to the fore again.
If you doubt it, consider the case of China and the “Confucian tradition” (a sort of proxy for Asian values). China has been at various times the world's most prosperous country and also one of its poorest. It has had periods of great scientific innovation and times of technological backwardness and isolation. Accounts of the Confucian tradition have tracked this path. Nowadays, what seems important about the tradition is its encouragement of hard work, savings and investment for the future, plus its emphasis on co-operation towards a single end. All these features have been adduced to explain why the tradition has helped Asian growth.
To Max Weber, however, the same tradition seemed entirely different. He argued that the Confucian insistence on obedience to parental authority discouraged competition and innovation and hence inhibited economic success. And China is not the only country to have been systematically misdiagnosed in this way. In countries as varied as Japan, India, Ghana and South Korea, notions of cultural determination of economic performance have been proved routinely wrong (in 1945, India and Ghana were expected to do best of the four-partly because of their supposed cultural inheritance).
If you take an extreme position, you could argue from this that cultures are so complicated that they can never be used to explain behaviour accurately. Even if you do not go that far, the lesson must be that the same culture embraces such conflicting features that it can produce wholly different effects at different times.
That is hard enough for the schools of culture to get to grips with. But there is worse to come. For cultures never operate in isolation. When affecting how people behave, they are always part of a wider mix. That mix includes government policies, personal leadership, technological or economic change and so on. For any one effect, there are always multiple causes. Which raises the second fundamental doubt about cultural explanations: how do you know whether it is culture-and not something else-that has caused some effect? You cannot. The problem of causation seems insoluble. The best you can do is work out whether, within the mix, culture is becoming more or less important.
Culture as passenger
Of the many alternative explanations for events, three stand out: the influence of ideas, of government and what might be called the “knowledge era” (shorthand for globalisation, the growth of service-based industries and so forth). Of these, the influence of ideas as a giant organising principle is clearly not what it was when the cold war divided the world between communists and capitalists. We are all capitalists now. To that extent, it is fair to say that the ideological part of the mix has become somewhat less important-though not, as a few people have suggested, insignificant.
As for the government, it is a central thesis of the cultural writers that its influence is falling while that of culture is rising: cultures are in some ways replacing states. To quote Mr Huntington again “peoples and countries with similar cultures are coming together. Peoples and countries with different cultures are coming apart.”
In several respects, that is counter-intuitive. Governments still control what is usually the single most powerful force in any country, the army. And, in all but the poorest places, governments tax and spend a large chunk of GDP-indeed, a larger chunk, in most places, than 50 years ago.
Hardly surprising, then, that governments influence cultures as much as the other way around. To take a couple of examples. Why does South Korea (a low-trust culture, remember) have so many internationally competitive large firms? The answer is that the government decided that it should. Or another case: since 1945 German politicians of every stripe have been insisting that they want to “save Germany from itself” – an attempt to assert political control over cultural identity.
South Korea and Germany are examples of governments acting positively to create something new. But governments can act upon cultures negatively: ie, they can destroy a culture when they collapse. Robert Kaplan, of an American magazine Atlantic Monthly, begins his book, “The Ends of the Earth”, in Sierra Leone: “I had assumed that the random crime and social chaos of West Africa were the result of an already-fragile cultural base.” Yet by the time he reaches Cambodia at the end of what he calls “a journey at the dawn of the 21st century” he is forced to reconsider that assumption:
Here I was . . . in a land where the written script was one thousand two hundred years old, and every surrounding country was in some stage of impressive economic growth. Yet Cambodia was eerily similar to Sierra Leone: with random crime, mosquito-borne disease, a government army that was more like a mob and a countryside that was ungovernable.
His conclusion is that “The effect of culture was more a mystery to me near the end of my planetary journey than at its beginning.” He might have gone further: the collapse of governments causes cultural turbulence just as much as cultural turbulence causes the collapse of governments.
Culture as processed data
Then there is the “knowledge era”. Here is a powerful and growing phenomenon. The culture writers do not claim anything different. Like the Industrial Revolution before it, the knowledge era-in which the creation, storage and use of knowledge becomes the basic economic activity-is generating huge change. Emphasising as it does rapid, even chaotic, transformation, it is anti-traditional and anti-authoritarian.
Yet the cultural exponents still claim that, even in the knowledge era, culture remains a primary engine of change. They do so for two quite different reasons. Some claim that the new era has the makings of a world culture. There is a universal language, English. There are the beginnings of an international professional class that cuts across cultural and national boundaries: increasingly, bankers, computer programmers, executives, even military officers are said to have as much in common with their opposite numbers in other countries as with their next-door neighbours. As Mr Fukuyama wrote in his more famous book: the “unfolding of modern natural science . . . guarantees an increasing homogenisation of all human societies.” Others doubt that technology and the rest of it are producing a genuinely new world order. To them, all this is just modern western culture.
Either way, the notion that modernity is set on a collision course with culture lies near the heart of several of the culture writers' books. Summing them up is the title of Benjamin Barber's “Jihad versus McWorld”. In other words, he argues that the main conflicts now and in future will be between tribal, local “cultural” values (Jihad) and a McWorld of technology and democracy.
It would be pointless to deny that globalisation is causing large changes in every society. It is also clear that such influences act on different cultures differently, enforcing a kind of natural selection between those cultures which rise to the challenge and those which do not.
But it is more doubtful that these powerful forces are primarily cultural or even western. Of course, they have a cultural component: the artefacts of American culture are usually the first things to come along in the wake of a new road, or new television networks. But the disruptive force itself is primarily economic and has been adopted as enthusiastically in Japan, Singapore and China as in America. The world market is not a cultural concept.
Moreover, to suggest that trade, globalisation and the rest of it tend to cause conflict, and then leave the argument there, is not enough. When you boil the argument down, much of it seems to be saying that the more countries trade with each other, the more likely they are to go to war. That seems implausible. Trade-indeed, any sort of link-is just as likely to reduce the potential for violent conflict as to increase it. The same goes for the spread of democracy, another feature which is supposed to encourage civilisations to clash with each other. This might well cause ructions within countries. It might well provoke complaints from dictators about “outside interference”. But serious international conflict is a different matter. And if democracy really did spread round the world, it might tend to reduce violence; wealthy democracies, at any rate, are usually reluctant to go to war (though poor or angrily nationalist ones may, as history has shown, be much less reluctant).
In short, the “knowledge era” is spreading economic ideas. And these ideas have three cultural effects, not one. They make cultures rub against each other, causing international friction. They also tie different cultures closer together, which offsets the first effect. And they may well increase tension within a culture-area as some groups accommodate themselves to the new world while others turn their back on it. And all this can be true at the same time because cultures are so varied and ambiguous that they are capable of virtually any transformation.
The conclusion must be that while culture will continue to exercise an important influence on both countries and individuals, it has not suddenly become more important than, say, governments or impersonal economic forces. Nor does it play the all-embracing defining role that ideology played during the cold war. Much of its influence is secondary, ie, it comes about partly as a reaction to the “knowledge era”. And within the overall mix of what influences people's behaviour, culture's role may well be declining, rather than rising, squeezed between the greedy expansion of the government on one side, and globalisation on the other.
The books mentioned in this article are:
Benjamin Barber, Jihad versus McWorld (Random House; 1995; 400 pages).
Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (Free Press; 1992; 419 pages) and Trust: The Social Virtues and the Creation of Prosperity (Free Press; 1995; 480 pages).
Lawrence E. Harrison, Who Prospers? How Cultural Values Shape Economic and Political Success (Basic Books; 1992, 288 pages).
Samuel Huntington, “The Clash of Civilisations?” Foreign Affairs Vol. 72 (Summer 1993) and The Clash of Civilisations and the Remaking of World Order (Simon & Schuster; 1996; 367 pages).
Robert Kaplan, The Ends of the Earth (Random House; 1996; 475 pages).
Bernard Lewis, The Middle East (Wiedenfeld & Nicolson; 1995; 433 pages).
Seymour Martin Lipset, American Exceptionalism (Norton; 1996; 352 pages).
Robert Putnam, Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy (Princeton, 1993, 288 pages).
Thomas Sowell, Race and Culture: A World View (Basic Books, 1994, 331 pages).