Our aim is that every civilisation, whether large or small, is represented, and that they should all have an equal voice. Although we aim to identify and foster common values, we know that standardisation is not possible, nor is it desirable. We know that it is important to view world events without prejudice and to acknowledge that we are different: we have different cultures, different histories, different tastes. This is why I cannot accept the term ‘universal values’. (Who gets to set them? Who should police them?) Human diversity is something we should celebrate if the aggressive propaganda that seeks to set neighbour against neighbour is to be resisted.
The people with whom I created the Dialogue of Civilizations – the former Prime Minister of India, I. K. Gujral, as well as the social scientist and entrepreneur Jagdish Kapur, and Nicholas Papanicolaou, an American of Greek origin who had long been an advocate of the ecumenical movement – were an early indication of the plurality of voices we wanted to encourage; our very first conference in Delhi was attended by scholars, activists and politicians from many other countries.
Others who played a significant role in the early years were the Iranian Mohammad Khatami and the Lithuanian Valdas Adamkus, both of whom were former presidents of their countries. (My friendship with Adamkus, who fought against the Soviet Union before his family fled to the United States, and then spent the next fifty years on the other side of the cold war to myself, is a good example of the virtues of concentrating on what can be achieved by working together for a better future, rather than allowing oneself to become trapped by the battles and resentments of the past.) It has evolved now into an institution that is as cosmopolitan as the United Nations, with representatives from countries including India, China, Czech Republic, Poland, Cyprus, Austria and Greece.
After the attack on the Twin Towers in September 2001, our task suddenly felt more urgent. The atrocity itself and also the dangerous overreaction that followed were visceral examples of exactly what we wanted to avoid. They showed the extent to which empty rhetoric can be transformed into lethal action. The atrocity was not in itself an example of the clash of civilisations; it was an attack by a specific terrorist group, against a specific object, in a specific society. But the Western media, and many politicians, depicted these isolated events in far grander, more sweeping terms: as the embodiment of the profound antagonism that existed between two irreconcilable ways of life. Their arguments were so persuasive that they effectively became that oldest of clichés: a self-fulfilling prophecy. In this case, though, it was a cliché that has had disastrous consequences. The most tangible result of the ‘War Against Terror’ was a great flourishing of terrorism across the globe.
In the years since then, we have formed a close working relationship with the Alliance of Civilizations, a body created by the United Nations, which shares many of the same ambitions as the DOC. Like us, they recognise the benefits of offering people from different countries a way to communicate that is not mediated by the agendas of diplomats or media conglomerates.
We took another step forward in 2016 when we opened the Dialogue of Civilizations Research Institute in Berlin. It was, as much as anything, a recognition of the complexity of the issues facing us. Good sentiments and fine words have their place, but we wanted to ensure they were buttressed by cutting-edge research into the political, social and economic aspects of contemporary life. It has been designed as an independent body, supported by representatives from the worlds of business, politics and academia, that offers intellectual alternatives to some aspects of what one might term mainstream ideology. I would like to think that within the next few years the DOC Research Institute will be considered one of the ten or fifteen top think tanks in the world, joining the ranks of the centres of expertise whose work has a genuine influence on policy formation and academic debate. Our other central aim, one which governs every element of the DOC’s activity, remains the same: to promote dialogue among people and societies, and to try and influence states and global powers, Russia included. It is a diffuse ambition, the success of which is nearly impossible to measure, but who could honestly say that it is not a worthwhile one?
We are not against the idea of development and economic growth, or people becoming richer, but we do not subscribe to the spiritually impoverished vision that reduces man to a consumer rather than a citizen – we want to foster programmes that place morality not materialism at the centre of human identity. Over four million babies died in 2016 – most could have been saved with the right kind of medication or care. Millions of people are starving in Africa every year. How can we not stop this when the world’s GDP is worth over $75 trillion annually?
This is the message I have been promulgating for fifteen years. Not just at the Rhodes Forum, but across the world, at conferences, in articles. But, of course, our every step is attended by accusations that we are a front for a Putin-led propaganda campaign, while in Russia, by contrast, the very fact that we are not a state organisation and are not promoting the state’s policies means that it is very difficult to secure coverage of our activities. There is not much one can do when some people continue to believe that the possession of a Russian passport means that one is inevitably an agent of the Kremlin. All I would ask is that they examine the work we have conducted already, or the statements we have issued. They will see nothing there that is designed to promote one set of values to the exclusion of all others – and why would there be, given that to do so would be a betrayal of everything the DOC was set up to achieve? When you see people attacking an organisation that has been created to promote openness and peace, then it shows the scale of the task before us. It would be funny if it were not also so dangerous.
CHAPTER NINE
THINGS FALL APART
The Holy Fire. No other miracle is known to occur with such regularity, taking place at the same time, in the same place, for eleven centuries. Each year, on the day preceding Orthodox Easter, in the Church of the Resurrection in Jerusalem, a blue light emanates from within Jesus Christ’s tomb, eventually forming a column of flame. Moments later candles and lamps around the whole church are lit from this fire.
Thousands of pilgrims gather to witness and participate in this prodigious occurrence, and a handful will also convey the Holy Fire back to churches in their own countries. It is an event that is tightly embroidered into the fabric of the Orthodox Church, an institution that is in turn one of the threads from which Russian history and culture is woven. For over a millennium, the church was one of the primary methods for transmitting information about my nation’s traditions and values from one generation to another. But during the Soviet era, it seemed that this thread might be broken for ever.
The Bolsheviks were not interested in accumulating money or smart houses for themselves; they wanted to create a new, better world for the people of their country, and were willing to sacrifice everything to fight for the best future for the working class.
And yet the only instrument they had at hand was the destruction of much of our nation’s history. In order to forcefully introduce a reluctant population to their cherished ideals of brotherhood and freedom, they tried to cut us adrift from a set of beliefs and values that had once run right through the heart of Russian life. They would create citizens who were not just convinced of the virtues of socialism, but who could not even consider the possibility of living under another kind of system.