.The Age Of The Celebrity Tyrant
Move over, Hollywood, Bollywood and all the rest of you glitterati. The world has entered the age of the Celebrity Tyrant. Hardly a week goes by without the exploits of some despot or other snatching the headlines--whether it's North Korea's Kim Jong Il hosting Bill Clinton for dinner and a detainee pickup; Muammar al-Qaddafi celebrating the parole of one of his Lockerbie-bombing terrorist agents; or Burma's Than Shwe milking the hostage-politics racket for a house call from Senator Jim Webb.
Not that despots are anything new. But about a generation back, they were a lot less bold and a lot less rich in cachet. What with the 1991 Soviet collapse and the waves of democratization then sweeping Asia, Eastern Europe and Latin America, dictatorship had become something of an embarrassment. Even just a few years ago, despots were a breed largely beyond the pale, with the late Saddam Hussein hiding in his spider hole, al-Qaddafi trying to placate the American cowboy and Syria's Bashar al-Assad teetering on his dynastic perch.
No longer. With regime change off the table, and President Obama dishing out "mutual respect" faster than the rulers of Tehran, Tripoli, Pyongyang or Caracas can spit their contempt right back in his face, tyrants are becoming ever more weirdly trendy. They are globalized, in our face, on the Web, on television--and as New York braces for the September opening of the United Nations General Assembly, some of them, with considerable ceremony, are coming to town.
The most flamboyant among them enter a VIP orbit, in which they may be officially reviled, but also eagerly sought after. Recall the banquet hosted by Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad last September at the midtown Manhattan Grand Hyatt for 1,000 or so of his closest friends. Or remember the gushing accounts two years ago of the invitations sent out, as Time magazine described it, on "creamy stationery with fancy calligraphy," to a select 50 or so American opinion-makers to sup with Ahmadinejad at the Intercontinental Hotel in New York. Whatever the protesters shouted outside the security cordon, it has become an accepted part of New York's fall season that Ahmadinejad and his retinue arrive for a hoopla of motorcades, talk shows, press conferences and banquets.
This kind of performance emboldens others. Small wonder Venezuela's President Hugo Chavez might be provisionally listed in the U.N. speakers' lineup for next month, looking for another bite of the Big Apple. And of course Libya's al-Qaddafi, no longer exiled from world gatherings, now wants a piece of this action. Al-Qaddafi has parlayed his way at the U.N. to a slot even higher than Ahmadinejad on the schedule for Sept. 23, the first day of speechifying.
In a chat on Saturday, radio talk show maestro John Batchelor asked me whether al-Qaddafi--making what one account described as his "maiden appearance" next month on the U.N. stage--might steal the show from both President Obama and Ahmadinejad.
Batchelor's question was asked in fun, but with a serious point. There is a strange, alternate universe overtaking the international stage, in which the competition is less about decency, morality or democratic values than about intrigue, thrills, trappings and ultimately the ability to hold the attention of a crowd. And yes, it's possible that for the novelty of the season, al-Qaddafi at the U.N. General Assembly next month will trump them all. The debate continues over where exactly he will stay, and whether he will bring such affectations as his Bedouin tent--an item which for gossip value promises to briefly outrank even Hollywood's Jolie-Pitt saga.
True to celebrity form, modern despots have their cliques. Between the road shows and house calls in which they now deal as erstwhile equals with envoys of the world's democracies, modern thugs enjoy advertising their sit-downs with each other. Before the U.N. General Assembly convenes, Venezuela's Hugo Chavez has been variously advertised as heading to Libya, Belarus, Syria, Russia and Iran.
How many of those pit stops Chavez might actually make, as he loops his way toward a provisional speaking slot Sept. 24 on the U.N. stage in New York, we don't yet know. But it is increasingly obvious that among many of today's tyrants, there is a camaraderie which serves to embolden them all. Al-Qaddafi has named a soccer stadium in Libya after Chavez. Iran's regime has awarded Chavez the Islamic Republic's highest medal of honor. Chavez has lavished praise on Ahmadinejad, celebrating the inroads both can make against the U.S. "as long as we remain united."
On a related front, although Sudan's President Omar al-Bashir heads a genocidal regime and is under indictment by the U.N.'s International Criminal Court, a Sudanese news service bragged this week that al-Bashir has been invited by al-Qaddafi to an African Union summit on Aug. 31.
Tyrants have usually relied on showboating at home. Whether their fellow citizens believe in these acts or not, there is a certain amount of circus performance needed to sustain the propaganda with which they justify the deprivation and brutality that accompanies despotism.
But these days, with high tech ease, the propaganda quickly goes global. In places like London, Paris and New York, the images cultivated by despots blur into personae of benign celebrity--eccentric, perhaps, but hardly visible manifestations of evil. Russia's Vladimir Putin bares his chest for the camera and is depicted as bravely shooting a tiger; then tenderly receiving a tiger cub as a gift.
Operating with the budgets of billionaires, tyrants travel with entourages that can shut down entire hotel floors, and flash enough cash to impress. Some like to shop. Syria under President Bashar al-Assad may be a place of poverty and repression, but Syria's British-born first lady, Asma al-Assad, has been flaunting her designer wardrobe on Facebook.
Others cultivate the false modesty of casual clothes. Ahmadinejad has his trademark zip-up windbreaker, and Fidel Castro has recently reappeared in his warm-up suit. And, human nature being what it is, the item that gets instant attention too often tends to be the wardrobe in front of the camera, rather than the shadowy apparatus of secret police and atrocities back home.
Were this all some piece of ancient history, it would be fascinating to follow the adventures of these despots, complete with their social schedules, mutual back-scratching, signature apparel and stage appearances.
But however enlightened the world around many of us may appear, this is happening now. The social circuit for this crew is also a conduit for deals, alliances and a kind of gangland solidarity that makes it ever more difficult to shut any one of them down.
These are celebrities who answer to no law and no electorates. They are increasingly in the business of eroding rules of conduct that are vital to any civilized world order. They are riding much too high these days, and while it may be human nature to watch them with interest, it would be folly to forget for even a moment that all that glitter, wealth and showmanship--from Bedouin tent to designer shoes to creamy stationery--comes from the barrel of a gun.
Forbes
Not that despots are anything new. But about a generation back, they were a lot less bold and a lot less rich in cachet. What with the 1991 Soviet collapse and the waves of democratization then sweeping Asia, Eastern Europe and Latin America, dictatorship had become something of an embarrassment. Even just a few years ago, despots were a breed largely beyond the pale, with the late Saddam Hussein hiding in his spider hole, al-Qaddafi trying to placate the American cowboy and Syria's Bashar al-Assad teetering on his dynastic perch.
No longer. With regime change off the table, and President Obama dishing out "mutual respect" faster than the rulers of Tehran, Tripoli, Pyongyang or Caracas can spit their contempt right back in his face, tyrants are becoming ever more weirdly trendy. They are globalized, in our face, on the Web, on television--and as New York braces for the September opening of the United Nations General Assembly, some of them, with considerable ceremony, are coming to town.
The most flamboyant among them enter a VIP orbit, in which they may be officially reviled, but also eagerly sought after. Recall the banquet hosted by Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad last September at the midtown Manhattan Grand Hyatt for 1,000 or so of his closest friends. Or remember the gushing accounts two years ago of the invitations sent out, as Time magazine described it, on "creamy stationery with fancy calligraphy," to a select 50 or so American opinion-makers to sup with Ahmadinejad at the Intercontinental Hotel in New York. Whatever the protesters shouted outside the security cordon, it has become an accepted part of New York's fall season that Ahmadinejad and his retinue arrive for a hoopla of motorcades, talk shows, press conferences and banquets.
This kind of performance emboldens others. Small wonder Venezuela's President Hugo Chavez might be provisionally listed in the U.N. speakers' lineup for next month, looking for another bite of the Big Apple. And of course Libya's al-Qaddafi, no longer exiled from world gatherings, now wants a piece of this action. Al-Qaddafi has parlayed his way at the U.N. to a slot even higher than Ahmadinejad on the schedule for Sept. 23, the first day of speechifying.
In a chat on Saturday, radio talk show maestro John Batchelor asked me whether al-Qaddafi--making what one account described as his "maiden appearance" next month on the U.N. stage--might steal the show from both President Obama and Ahmadinejad.
Batchelor's question was asked in fun, but with a serious point. There is a strange, alternate universe overtaking the international stage, in which the competition is less about decency, morality or democratic values than about intrigue, thrills, trappings and ultimately the ability to hold the attention of a crowd. And yes, it's possible that for the novelty of the season, al-Qaddafi at the U.N. General Assembly next month will trump them all. The debate continues over where exactly he will stay, and whether he will bring such affectations as his Bedouin tent--an item which for gossip value promises to briefly outrank even Hollywood's Jolie-Pitt saga.
True to celebrity form, modern despots have their cliques. Between the road shows and house calls in which they now deal as erstwhile equals with envoys of the world's democracies, modern thugs enjoy advertising their sit-downs with each other. Before the U.N. General Assembly convenes, Venezuela's Hugo Chavez has been variously advertised as heading to Libya, Belarus, Syria, Russia and Iran.
How many of those pit stops Chavez might actually make, as he loops his way toward a provisional speaking slot Sept. 24 on the U.N. stage in New York, we don't yet know. But it is increasingly obvious that among many of today's tyrants, there is a camaraderie which serves to embolden them all. Al-Qaddafi has named a soccer stadium in Libya after Chavez. Iran's regime has awarded Chavez the Islamic Republic's highest medal of honor. Chavez has lavished praise on Ahmadinejad, celebrating the inroads both can make against the U.S. "as long as we remain united."
On a related front, although Sudan's President Omar al-Bashir heads a genocidal regime and is under indictment by the U.N.'s International Criminal Court, a Sudanese news service bragged this week that al-Bashir has been invited by al-Qaddafi to an African Union summit on Aug. 31.
Tyrants have usually relied on showboating at home. Whether their fellow citizens believe in these acts or not, there is a certain amount of circus performance needed to sustain the propaganda with which they justify the deprivation and brutality that accompanies despotism.
But these days, with high tech ease, the propaganda quickly goes global. In places like London, Paris and New York, the images cultivated by despots blur into personae of benign celebrity--eccentric, perhaps, but hardly visible manifestations of evil. Russia's Vladimir Putin bares his chest for the camera and is depicted as bravely shooting a tiger; then tenderly receiving a tiger cub as a gift.
Operating with the budgets of billionaires, tyrants travel with entourages that can shut down entire hotel floors, and flash enough cash to impress. Some like to shop. Syria under President Bashar al-Assad may be a place of poverty and repression, but Syria's British-born first lady, Asma al-Assad, has been flaunting her designer wardrobe on Facebook.
Others cultivate the false modesty of casual clothes. Ahmadinejad has his trademark zip-up windbreaker, and Fidel Castro has recently reappeared in his warm-up suit. And, human nature being what it is, the item that gets instant attention too often tends to be the wardrobe in front of the camera, rather than the shadowy apparatus of secret police and atrocities back home.
Were this all some piece of ancient history, it would be fascinating to follow the adventures of these despots, complete with their social schedules, mutual back-scratching, signature apparel and stage appearances.
But however enlightened the world around many of us may appear, this is happening now. The social circuit for this crew is also a conduit for deals, alliances and a kind of gangland solidarity that makes it ever more difficult to shut any one of them down.
These are celebrities who answer to no law and no electorates. They are increasingly in the business of eroding rules of conduct that are vital to any civilized world order. They are riding much too high these days, and while it may be human nature to watch them with interest, it would be folly to forget for even a moment that all that glitter, wealth and showmanship--from Bedouin tent to designer shoes to creamy stationery--comes from the barrel of a gun.
Forbes
posted by madtom at 9:55 PM
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