Perceiving Diversity Aright: A Boon, Not a Threat

Giandomenico Picco is the UN Secretary-General’s Personal Representative for the United Nations Year of Dialogue among Civilisations.

When the secretary-general of the United Nations asked me to be his representative for the Year of the Dialogue among Civilisations, the terminology of “dialogue” had already begun to take on a variety of meanings.

For some it implied bridge building between Islam and the West; for others, a new embrace among the inheritors of the great historic civilisations; and for yet others, a means of communication among the great religions of the world. However, dialogue between Islam and the West alone would ignore the other parts of the world and would thus be incomplete. The very process of identifying and enumerating the historic civilisations would only lead to disagreement, and to follow that path would be politically naive. And the major religions of the world are already engaged in a form of dialogue conducted by theologians and experts, so there is no need to duplicate, and imperfectly at that, something that is already under way.

Some prefer a more semantic approach, requiring—first and foremost—an actual definition of “civilisation” and “dialogue”. This reminds me of the discussion about the sex of angels that took place in the sixth century among the Christian churches. The debate raged for centuries and, I believe, proved highly unproductive.

I chose to interpret dialogue among civilisations in a more focused and, I hope, concrete manner—concrete, that is, from the standpoint of the United Nations. The dialogue, I thought, could be one between those who perceive diversity as a threat and those who perceive it as an element of betterment and growth. Accordingly, it would neither be the UN secretary-general nor myself who would dictate “who should stand where”, but rather each one of us, as individuals or groups.

Isn’t it diversity, or rather the way it is perceived, that is at the very core of war, at its very origin? Isn’t it true that war begins first in our minds and that then—and only then—we search and find easy justifications for it, such that it becomes an ethnic war, a religious war, a war originated by history or institutional failure? Of course, such rationalisations are just a cover‑up, a lie. Wars are initiated by a mindset that perceives diversity as a threat. They are the responsibility of those individuals who wage them: for history does not kill, religion does not maim and institutions do not destroy buildings. Only human beings can do that.

In practical terms, a dialogue among those who perceive diversity as a threat and those who see it as an inherent ingredient of life is in fact a dialogue about the concept of the enemy. Perhaps the time has come to face the enemy.

When the Cold War ended, many seemingly felt orphaned by the disappearance of the enemy. A rush began to locate or invent a new one. The “end of history”, the “clash of civilisations”, religious confrontations and ethnic conflicts quickly emerged as the justification for, the mantle to enshroud, what was nothing more than the consequence of perceiving diversity as a threat and equating diversity with the enemy.

It was, of course, important for those who became the theoreticians or executors of such visions to make sure that the responsibility for confrontation would be assigned elsewhere, be it history, religion or the new enemy.

It is clear that “the enemy” is fundamentally a management tool, something that facilitates the controlling and mobilising of society. Indeed, have we ever had leaders who could lead without an enemy? In the personal and professional journey that brought me from the valleys of Afghanistan, buzzing with the sound of helicopters and gunfire, to the streets of civil war Beirut, full of checkpoints, I never seemed to escape the unbearable presence of “the enemy”.

Fear of the Unknown

An element of mystery is intrinsic to the concept of “the enemy”; the enemy appears to comprise something we are unfamiliar with, something we do not know. The unknown is interwoven with the concept of enemy and with good reason: human beings have traditionally feared the unknown. Perhaps—I thought to myself—an enemy had to be unknown in order to be an enemy. It is thus no wonder that contact with “the enemy” was and continues to be considered a dangerous encounter: as if knowledge would decrease the enmity and therefore the value that the enemy has in the management of society.

It also seems to me that the less knowledge one has of the enemy, the less one is a good leader. Keeping the enemy at bay seems to be a part of retaining the enemy. To this day, there are some who believe that any contact whatsoever with “the enemy”, even if it involves learning more, is inappropriate. Hence the continuing ignorance with respect to the enemy simply because we might not have the courage to look him in the eyes.

Nothing has been easier in history than to take any form of diversity and demonise it. The “diverse”, or the “other”, is that individual who happens to be a different colour, or who simply lives in a different place or thinks differently. The sources of diversity are inexhaustible. Furthermore, to make the jump from suspicion of diversity to outright enmity is quite easy when diversity is presented a threat.

The entire logic behind the idea of dialogue goes against the very meaning of “enemy”, for a dialogue requires meeting the “other” and, perhaps even more radically, listening to him. In other words, it leads to knowledge. And knowledge can “dangerously” put in doubt the very reason for an enemy.

It was John Hume, Nobel peace laureate and leader of Northern Ireland’s Social Democratic and Labour Party, who taught me that wars begin in the minds of people and that the mindset of war is the perception of diversity as a threat. Real dialogue, therefore, requires looking into the enemy’s eyes and actually listening to what he or she might have to say. Are we prepared to make such a giant leap forward in international relations and, indeed, in domestic life?

Today, there are still many situations in which neither side of a dispute will accept direct contact, let alone listen to what the other has to say. Even when conflicting parties do agree to meet, if the contact is only formal, there is no opportunity for substantial dialogue.

Listening to the enemy implies an initial acceptance of contact and later a willingness to learn about him/her. In some cases, this may involve a revolutionary change of attitude. In order to be successful, dialogue must bring about a fundamental change in mindset: the dichotomy between “us” and “the others” is a dichotomy that engenders exclusion.

Allusion to “the enemy” quickly steers our thinking to well-known conflict areas; perhaps it should also direct us to those countries where there is currently no state of war but where the seeds of intolerance are germinating. Even men of the church in European countries have made comments and suggestions that seem to draw yet more boundaries between immigrants. By stating that Europe should favour immigrants professing one faith over those professing another, these men of the church are in fact preaching once again the fear of diversity, the creed of intolerance and indeed racism. And yet they wear the cloth!

Fear of diversity is a reaction of the weak: those who have little to offer need to demonise the “other”, the “different”, “the enemy”. Contrariwise, those who have much to offer emphasise the positive side of what they propose rather than the negative side (usually invented or alleged) of their nemesis.

Individual Responsibility

Dialogue also means taking on individual responsibilities, even in international relations. Another indication of those who fear diversity and feed intolerance is the unwillingness to assume direct responsibility, so that the fault for whatever goes wrong is transferred to a collectivity or collective concept, be it history, institutions, religion or culture. Guilt lies always with the “other”, even if the other is simply a concept or collective noun.

Institutions have become useful scapegoats in our day, the notion of “institutional failure” being widely accepted. Yet do institutions exist without individuals? Do institutions make decisions without individuals? Do institutions operate without individuals? These questions are, of course, rhetorical. Having created the concept of collective decisions, we have conveniently introduced the concept of collective responsibility, which in many cases means nobody is responsible. I have often thought that unless I believed I was responsible at a personal level, my contribution to collective decision-making would be slight, even trivial. Unfortunately, we can all think of too many examples where individuals have escaped their responsibilities simply by transferring them to institutions.

Some fifty-five years ago, the issue of individual responsibility in societal affairs came to the fore, namely, at the war crimes trials in Nuremberg and Tokyo. Justifying one’s own behaviour with the excuse of obeying orders was rejected once and for all. Humanity was no longer ready to accept such evasion of responsibility. It was at last made clear that this line of defence—which had a long tradition—was no longer valid or acceptable. Individual accountability in matters of state was finally recognised.

Half a century later there were still many who tried to hide, not behind “superior orders”, but behind the mantle of history, religion, ethnicity and even civilisation. The lie was blatant but the attempt was in some cases successful. Thus, the indignities of the 1990s, such as ethnic cleansing and killing in the name of God, were perpetrated, while the individuals involved tried to evade their own responsibility.

How many voices were raised to recall that the guilt could not be placed at the feet of history or religion, but rather lay with the individuals who had committed the crimes? Perhaps simply not enough.

In 1945, the international community said “no” to the rationalisation that “obedience to orders” could excuse individual crimes. In the first decade of the twenty-first century, perhaps we should also say “no” to those who point their fingers at history, religion or institutions as being responsible for crimes that only individuals can actually commit.

The establishment in the 1990s of the war crimes tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia was a major qualitative step forward in the growth of the international community. Not only was the issue of individual responsibility highlighted, but the tribunals were also empowered to judge both vanquished and victor alike, if individual responsibility was ascertained.

A New Paradigm?

Dialogue may thus become the seed for a new paradigm of international relations based on reassessment of the concept of “the enemy” and on a re-evaluation of individual accountability in public affairs. Institutional reforms may well be necessary as changes require adaptability; ultimately, however, it is not structures that will make the difference, but human beings. Thus, institutional reforms without changes in thinking are likely to have little effect. Dialogue’s greatest achievement would be to change attitudes towards the perception of diversity.

And yet the acceptance of diversity must not be misinterpreted as a lack of common denominators and common values and as a licence for any behaviour. The international community, of course, already has a common denominator in the UN Charter and other such covenants. That shared “humanity” which is germane to us all and the universal aspiration to offer a better life to our children are, in my view, part of that common denominator as well.

What could be the concrete results of a dialogue among civilisations as interpreted in the way I have just outlined?

A new paradigm of international relations is uppermost in my mind but, better yet, the proof of any successful paradigm and indeed of any successful dialogue will be something else. The real test, I believe, is to reach a level of humanity where each of us can truly perceive that the value of every human life is the same; that the life of one European is just as important as that of one African, or one Asian or one American. The weakness, not only of modern societies, but perhaps of human civilisation in its entirety hitherto, is that the life of “one of ours” is deemed to be more important than the life of “one of theirs”. This double standard remains a major source of injustice and enmity.

Such is my dream for the dialogue among civilisations: that by taking its meaning beyond the general to the individual level, we can take a step forward towards accepting all human lives as equally valuable, no matter from which latitude or country they come.