The different political cultures of different countries are always fascinating.
Australians tend regard politics as a taboo subject for casual or polite conversation, and many Aussies are surprised when travelling overseas, or when they meet overseas travellers, to find that this isn't the global norm, especially outside the English speaking world.
I've recently had the opportunity to experience three countries with very different political cultures and histories, and these experiences have convinced me that, for better or worse, 21st-century globalism will challenge the tendency in Australian political culture toward isolationism and apathy.
In Senegal, Africa's most enduring democracy, political awareness is relatively high, and political discussion very much the norm.
The family with whom I stayed in a village in the Casamance region of southern Senegal would regularly gather to watch the morning and evening television news and current affairs programs (both domestic and international) and engage in informed and energetic discussion with whoever happened to be around about what was covered.
The level of awareness about international issues, such as the conflict in Syria and significant political events in Europe and the USA, appeared to me to be much greater among these African villagers than among many Australians.
I had previously observed this high level of political interest and engagement when I visited Senegal in 2012 and observed the democratic election of its current president, Macky Sall, and his smooth transition to power from the country's former long time (but also democratically elected) president, Abdoulaye Wade.
For Senegal, this active political culture may be at least partly attributable to their French colonial tradition.
But there appears to be a similar level of engagement in Senegal's neighbour, the former British colony of The Gambia, Africa's smallest country. The Gambia's land borders are completely surrounded by the much larger Senegal, but it's post-colonial political culture and history has been quite different.
Gambian politics made news even in Australia late last year when its long time president, Yahya Jemmeh, who seized power in a military coup in 1994, was ousted in a surprise but decisive election victory by its current president, Adam Barrow.
The former president refused to concede, but reconsidered after intervention by the United Nations and a number of nearby countries (including Senegal).
When I visited this month, The Gambia was in the midst of subsequent parliamentary elections and many Gambians were donning T-shirts with political messages and slogans advocating democracy, and participating in vigourous political rallies, both of which would have been illegal, and ruthlessly suppressed, under the previous regime.
These political changes had imbued The Gambians with whom I spoke with a new spirit of hope and freedom, which swept the new regime to a landslide victory in the parliamentary elections, and reduced the former president's political party to a small parliamentary rump.
From what I know of the new leader and the state of his country, it's hard to be confident that he will be able to deliver on the hopes of his people, but his election may still be highly significant in the larger story of Africa's political evolution. Our Gambian taxi driver was convinced that democracy now had a firm and irreversible foothold in his country, and that the Gambian people would never again allow another dictator. Time will tell.
I'm now in France, in the run-up to the first round of its imminent presidential election. Few countries can claim such a decisive role in the history of modern democracy as France, and the Gallic fervour for political engagement is famous.
Just around the corner from where I am staying, a government building prominently displays the proud revolutionary cry of France's national motto: "liberte, egalite, fraternite", and even with my poor French I can discern the unmistakable signs of political engagement in overheard snippets of street and cafe conversations, and glimpses of posters and newspaper headlines.
France is a mature western democracy, and in the wake of Brexit, Trump, terrorism, and widespread conflict over national identity and the impact of refugees, the French presidential election will have international implications as a barometer of the global political zeitgeist.
Marine Le Pen, the far-right, anti-immigration leader of France's National Front Party, is tipped as almost certain to make the final round of the election - a run-off between the top two candidates from the first round - and may well become the next French president.
So much of politics is about momentum and morale, and the ripples of such a victory in a nation so symbolically significant as France, would certainly boost the political hopes and ambitions of right wing groups and parties around the world, including in Australia.
Unlike Australia, France doesn't have compulsory voting. Even so, more than 80% of eligible French voters turned up for the first round of the 2012 French presidential election, and if the size of the crowds for candidate rallies in the current election campaign are any indication, turnout will be similar this time around. This aspect of French political culture may well be the decisive factor in preventing a right wing victory.
Whatever the outcome, my experience here and in Africa has confirmed my conviction that, from Senegalese villagers, to Gambian taxi-drivers, to French cafe-goers, to antipodean Australians, the right and responsibility for building a better, more democratic world, belongs to all of us, and will require our awareness, vigilance and action.
No comments:
Post a Comment