Are we currently experiencing a breakdown of civilization? How can we restore diplomacy as a first option? Gerald Häfner explores perspectives in these times of war. Questions posed by Wolfgang Held.
How do you perceive the current political situation?
Gerald Häfner: We are in the midst of a kind of breakdown of civilization. A new form of political power is taking hold. It bears traces of totalitarianism. Its goal is self-interest. Success goes to those who thoughtlessly disregard boundaries—both internal and external. Those who still adhere to boundaries and set responsibility for the whole above their own interests appear outdated, helpless, and inept. Take the example of international law: When a German chancellor, asked whether a war of aggression is permissible under international law, dares only to say anxiously that it is a complex matter, we sense how far the erosion of international law has already progressed—even in Middle Europe. International law—the prohibition of crimes against humanity, the prohibition of violence, the protection of the civilian population, respect for human rights, and peaceful dispute resolution—was, at one time, after all, a consequence of our own terrible history of wars of aggression. Today, for many, it is nothing more than empty words devoid of force and effect.
In the increasingly dysfunctional economy of today, we are witnessing the triumph of the super-rich, where economic decline, loss of purchasing power, security, and a future for ever more human beings are present. We increasingly see states as prey to problematic individuals with strong self-interests, little impulse control, and no conscience or compassion. And we are witnessing attempts at political conformity in the media and sciences. These are not easy times!
The philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer said that if we do not enter a conversation with the assumption that the other person may be right, it’s not a conversation.
This is a crucial presupposition for any successful understanding. I wish it were a guiding principle of political action. With regard to both Ukraine and Iran, the exact opposite is true: talks were broken off in favor of the language of weapons. No one waited to see if an understanding might be possible. Today, war is already the first resort and is then carried out as a “preemptive strike,” as it is euphemistically called.
Isn’t there a contradiction between the prohibition on wars of aggression and the international community’s obligation to intervene in cases of crimes against humanity?
The prohibition on wars of aggression is binding international law—the obligation to protect against genocide and crimes against humanity has recently become so as well. In such a case, the international community would be called upon to act. This is currently being ignored, even consciously circumvented. In the current wars, those in charge have not even consulted their own parliaments, let alone the international community. They are acting of their own accord. It is about property, influence, power, business, and access to raw materials such as oil, gas, uranium, and rare earths. Idealistic goals play a rather minor role.
What role does international law play in this?
The evolving international law is a process of learning from painful experiences after the fact. International law has always taken shape step by step and in stages following major wars. Law is a form of collective learning—both for the individual and for humanity. What do I owe to the other? Out of respect for them, what must I do, and what must I refrain from doing? Learning means constantly rising higher in our humanity, leaving behind what is deemed wrong, unworthy, or inhuman. When the U.S. Vice President said at the Munich Security Conference that we should not overinterpret the lessons of the past, I was shaken: His call was, “Stop wanting to become better.” That’s the breakdown of civilization.
What does that mean for your view of humanity?
My view of humanity remains untouched by this—unreservedly good. People are, each in their own way, a miracle. They are magnificent. Free AND social beings. They want to be good. Each and every one. Individual evil is actually always understandable—and surmountable. It’s different in the social sphere. We have not yet learned to be as human in the social sphere as we are toward those close to us. We have largely achieved this in our immediate circles, but not in the social whole. There, we exploit the Earth, seeing it and our neighbors as mere objects of our wishes. The rules prevailing in Western capitalism as well as in Eastern socialism turn us into monsters toward ourselves, the other, and the Earth. An economic order that cultivates friendship with the Earth and all beings, one that sees even the most distant people as our siblings rather than our competitors or enemies, must still be developed.
But it is in the social sphere that the destiny of humanity is decided today. Our destiny depends on whether we ultimately learn to interact with one another worldwide in such a way that understanding, love, and mutual support grow, while alienation and hostility fade away.
And how do you see this in today’s politics?
In politics, this is absolutely crucial—but also especially difficult. There are many reasons for this. I’ll mention one: When a person of average inward maturity, strength of character, and morality enters political office, they face immense temptations, which are now intensified by the digitally transformed public sphere. They can easily lose their bearings, their inner compass.
In our personal lives, our actions bump into us. We experience their consequences in our own immediate surroundings. This is how our conscience is formed. We see the impact we have, we feel the joy as well as the pain we cause—and we strive to do better in the future. We learn and mature. This is how destiny educates us. It protects us from losing our humanity. In politics, it is different. There, one does not experience the consequences of one’s actions. Usually, it’s other people who experience them. You have to make many far-reaching decisions—but for others. This weakens the sense of responsibility. This is especially dangerous—and makes oppression, discrimination, instigation, and war seem attractive.
Where can one find guidance there?
Whoever enters politics needs humility, self-knowledge, love for humanity, and a clear inner compass. The temptations are strong. And they are all the greater, the “higher” the level, the further one is removed from the people. That is why local politics is often even healthier than “big politics”—it demands greater closeness to the people and thus constant social adjustments.
During Trump’s press conference following his first presidential election, on January 11, 2017, CNN journalist Acosta asked the U.S. president a question. Trump interrupted him, pointed at the man, and said sharply, “Not you! You’re fake news!” The journalist tried to rephrase his question. Trump cut him off again, turned away—and the press secretary openly threatened to eject Acosta from the press conference. Like many others, I held my breath. The moment was tense. What would happen? All justice was on the journalist’s side, all power on the president’s. The officials, the colleagues, could have said: “Mr. President, we have sworn an oath to the Constitution and are bound by the law. That prohibits us from intervening here. The person standing before you is an accredited press correspondent. He is doing his job—just like you. Just listen to him and answer his question.” But no one did that. Everyone was afraid. The journalist was silenced—and not a single person in the room objected. It didn’t amount to much at that point. But that brief moment contained everything: incredible coldness, contempt, even brutality—and the silent fear of the others.
What does something like that do to those involved? To a country? To the other people in the room, the millions watching, the government employees, and to the human being Trump himself? And what does it do to an entire country when someone who holds such an influential office begins to feel: “I am above the law. I can get away with anything, and it happens without consequences for me.” That is the temptation that, in a milder form, everyone who holds a temporary political office experiences. The mechanisms that protect against this no longer work—on the contrary: disinhibition progresses and spreads to the population. Just think of the storming of the U.S. Capitol in 2021. That is what I mean by “the breakdown of civilization.”
How does one come to one’s senses?
We can step out of the gearwork at any moment and determine our own actions. During my time in the German Parliament [Bundestag], I witnessed on multiple occasions how an act of reason—a proposal that transcended conventional thinking—reached my colleagues and allowed them to stand tall in their humanity. Each and every person carries a good core within them. If one senses, seeks, finds, and builds bridges to this core, then suddenly action rooted in insight and goodness becomes possible. Almost always, at the beginning of a political career, there was a profound idea, a positive ideal that guided that person on their path. They may have forgotten it amid the intrigues of power, in the corridors of submission and temptation—yet it can reignite within the ‘I’ at any moment. We all live in the same reality of the living spirit. We can find one another, beyond fears and prejudices, in the depth of genuine experience and its thoughtful penetration. And we are all called to one another during this time on Earth: to be helpers, companions, supporters, encouragers, and reminders of our deepest humanity.
So, while I am concerned about current developments, I remain full of hope. I hope that in Europe, and particularly in Middle Europe—where there is a painful but instructive history of power, violence, war, and destruction—there will be an awakening that finally puts an end to this logic of war and advocates for diplomacy, mediation, and understanding instead of armament and power, even if this is more likely to come from ordinary people than from those currently in political office. In this way, a new peace movement could emerge from today’s questions. In the 1980s, one could demand “peace” as an external goal. Today, this must go a level deeper. When we learn to see what is legitimate in the other, the thought of war fades away. Let us therefore strive to understand the fears and hopes of the other side and build paths of fruitful and positive understanding with a will that may be different from our own—for the good of our common humanity.
Translation Joshua Kelberman
Image Teenagers in the ruins of Gaza. Photo: Mohammed Ibrahim
