Oriana Fallaci is one of the most remarkable journalists of the 20th century. A selection of her interviews with the great and good (or, in many cases, the not-so-good) was published in the book Interviews with History and Conversations with Power. These interviews make for an interesting read.
Her style is abrasive, irreverent and forward. She rarely comments on her subjects, thus allowing their words to speak for themselves – often clumsily and inarticulately. These “conversations with power” enlighten us on exercising absolute or autocratic power.
In the age of Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping, these observations are pertinent. However, we can extend her comments to other forms of power closer to home – including that exercised by democratically elected leaders.
Firstly, she identifies the element of fear: “All despotic regimes sustain themselves through fear. The fear of being spied on, reported, threatened, arrested, kidnapped, tortured, or punished in one way or another. The fear of being guillotined, hanged, decapitated, shot, stoned. This fear is fed by soldiers, police, guardians of power: in short, anyone who wears a uniform and carries a pistol, a rifle, and a sword.”
This element of fear sustained several dictators throughout the long 20th century. Several regimes in the 20th century – particularly those of Nicolae Ceaucescu, Enver Hoxha, Kim il-Sung, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi and Erich Honecker – thrived on the creation of a climate of fear and suspicion, paranoia and distrust. Ultimately, they served not only in scaring people into submission but in instilling a significant level of cynicism among the population, thereby hindering the development of peaceful social relations.
We can see similar elements of fear in more democratic forms of government; the fear of falling out of favour and being sidelined hinders the ability to speak out on matters of injustice.
Fallaci also points to another element of autocratic power that is not often remarked upon – humour. She observes: “When they examine the horrors that power commits, the sufferings it imposes, the blood with which it stains itself, historians and political scientists always forget to highlight the ridiculous aspects of the inevitable monster.”
She clarifies her statement – the pain and death inflicted by dictators are not funny. Yet, we miss something when we fail to look at the humorous aspect of people in positions of power:
“Their superciliousness as they try to convince us that they are excellent and deserve to lead us or dominate us is funny. The false modesty they adopt to justify their inherited or hard-won privilege is funny. The respect that they demand from their subjects, even when they call themselves comrades, is funny. The way they all sit dignified on the presidential chair or throne is funny; the way they move or speak when they know people are watching is funny; the way they believe in their own importance is funny.”
We must laugh at Xi Jinping’s pomposity and the poor attempts of his hapless diplomats who set the record straight- Andre DeBattista
She goes on: “It’s all so funny that a sudden, spontaneous urge arises to ask why people bow or draw back, intimidated in front of them, rather than laughing in their faces.” Once again, she finds that fear plays a crucial part:
“Victims are never funny.”
Fallaci, however, takes a counterfactual situation and asks: “How is it possible that people support them, admire them, applaud them? How is it possible that the squares don’t erupt in giggles each time they start squawking? Tell me, what would they do if an entire square full of people began laughing at them? Would they kill them all? Okay. And if, instead of shooting, the soldiers tasked to kill began to laugh as well? If the whole population laughed?”
She concludes: “If the oceans of tears that monsters have spilt throughout the history of mankind could be measured against the grotesque situations that their imbecility has caused, no one would have any more doubts about the humour of power and the need to explain in comic terms, rather than tragic ones.”
And here comes the challenge for those who live in democratic countries.
We must continue to call out the misdeeds of autocracies. Human rights abuses need to be brought to light; if possible, perpetrators need to be brought to justice.
We must strive not to succumb to the temptation of being in their thrall and we must resist when they use their technologies or money to undermine our systems.
But we should also laugh. We must laugh at Xi’s pomposity and the poor attempts of his hapless diplomats who set the record straight – unsuccessfully and without a hint of irony.
We need to call out the ridiculous insecurity of Putin. He has perfected the use of elongated tables when meeting with foreign leaders. In previous years, he had his ways of intimidating adversaries. His decision to bring a dog into the meeting room with Angela Merkel, knowing full well that she has a phobia of dogs, betrays his lack of confidence and the bankruptcy of his ideas.
Are these leaders fearsome? Absolutely. Should we be wary of them? Always. However, there is also an element of comic tragedy about them too.
We must also laugh at our own politicians. There is a touch of the pathetic in the way most of them stage-manage their appearances, carefully tiptoeing around the press and avoiding anything which should portray them in a less-than-favourable light.
We should do so because it answers a fundamental question: without fear and sycophancy, what power do most political leaders have over the minds of people?
André DeBattista is a political writer and academic.