From Russia with love
Ideological tension in St. Petersburg
ANDREW LODGE
This past week, I was fortunate enough to attend a conference in Siberia and on my way home, I was able to stop in St. Petersburg, and it is from here that I write.
Earlier today, I picked up an English language newspaper and was thumbing through the different headlines in the international section. Nothing spectacular on this day. Mexico is preparing for an election, anticipated to be a close race between the so-called left- and right-wing candidates.
Another series of car-bombings in Iraq and another US military offensive, as the contending teams seek to map out the future of that poor country, ravaged now for so long by dictatorship and occupation. News out of Pyongyang, North Korea, of a possible long-range missile test, and the predictably visceral response from the Western powers. Business as usual in the global amphitheatre’s quest for power.
Competing interests and competing ideals, shaped by competing ideologies in the struggle for survival and domination. It is this negotiation between ideologies that is fascinating me today in this awe-inspiring city. Architectural marvels of old set amidst a modernizing city serve to remind the visitor of the constant flux of history. On one hand, you see the giant statue of Vladimir Lenin, the founder and primary ideologue of the Bolshevik revolution in this country, still looking out over the square. Across the street, a McDonald’s sells burgers from its venue in a centuries’ old building.
In many ways, St. Petersburg is a perfect metaphor for ideological tension. For years, it served as a gateway between East and West. More recently, during World War Two, back when it was known as Leningrad, it was the stage for the epic siege by fascist Germany in a bid to crush the communist government. It was Germany who ended up retreating after 900 days and over a million dead, arguably breaking the back of the Nazi bid for world domination.
And now, the city is the scene of emerging capitalism in a country convulsing through a revolutionary transformation. The G8 meeting will be here in three weeks, reassuring Russia of its role, however junior and however tortured, in the global capitalist order. Behind the massive and unrivalled architectural wonder known as the Hermitage, with its monuments to greatness, sit the stretch Hummers and black tinted Mercedes of the new Russian elite. Outside the walls of the cities, peasants plod along as they always have, earning the equivalent of ten U.S. dollars a month.
During the 90’s, American philosopher Francis Fukuyama penned the widely and critically acclaimed book, The End of History and the Last Man, arguing that with the fall of the communist bloc, history was over and that Western liberalism had triumphed over all other ideologies.
The economic strength and the unparalleled military power in the West provide ample excuse for many to accept Fukuyama’s argument as axiomatic. After all, who else can balance such greatness and such strength with such benevolence? Comfortable in this knowledge, we can strive ahead to make sure the world keeps getting better and better. How can there be any improvement on us?
Unfortunately, outside of our gates, the rest of the world does not necessarily agree with this assessment. And why should they? Not sharing in the spoils or our conquest, it becomes a much more difficult and complex mental exercise to accept the West in all its terminal excellence. History not over, the human race and the earth on which it lives can be heard whispering. The very idea is shockingly absurd, but its absurdity pales in comparison to the absurdity required to formulate such an argument in the first place. The notion of hubris in modern times has never been so applicable.
It is not surprising, then, that challenges to the dominant order and its ideology continue to be born. This has always been so. It would be startlingly unlikely, virtually inconceivable really, that the plight of our species, understood by us as “history,” would take such a radical divergence to this incredibly resilient pattern.
Here in St. Petersburg, the enduring presence of great buildings serves as a reminder that empires someday come to an end. Likewise, we as humans pass from this earth at some point or another. If the theologians and the ascetics are correct, how you live may determine your passageway through eternity. But one thing is sure: our time, and the time of our civilizations is a finite one. One wonders what the world would look like if those wielding power would take some time to contemplate that simple idea.
Andrew Lodge is a fourth-year medical student.
