Normalization of moralization

The Kafkaesque case and the following public debate say a lot about Slovak society, and only a little of it can we be proud of. One of the interesting phenomena is the readiness of more or less prominent figures to take a stance, which we could call, in work terms, the “Central European intellectual reflex.” And: to blame it on the nation. So you thought that on our side of the barricades there are no problems? Then you are probably simpler. Are you really waiting for some new messiah, fools? I should note that it’s not entirely clear who this gesture is directed at – probably mostly at oneself. Although it can be expected that the case will deprive Progressive Slovakia (PS) of some votes, current polls show that Andrea Puková has not yet collected more than about one percent from the electoral account. A massive shift away from PS – at least for now – is not happening. The case has more influence among opinion makers and opinion makers than among the electorate.

But to the point. The Central European intellectual reflex is a self-preservation tendency to delegate blame to the hapless masses while maintaining silent tolerance towards one's own milieu, to which Central European intellectuals are bound by professional status. That is, to the milieu of political and opinion-forming elites, whose attitudes and interventions play an important, yet often unnamed role in shaping expectations, dreams, and illusions of the opposition electorate. If today we look at confused voters who see all the Fafokany of Smer et al., but at the same time cannot quite figure out the Vitra furniture, duplicate invoices, and phone bills, we might ask whether, besides the quite rational expectation that “their politicians” will be clean, it is also about the consequence of how those they admire have long shaped their political sensitivity.

The continuous inability of political integration and a weak sense of play have brought in the last two decades a series of disappointments and failures to the liberal-progressive camp and the social spectrum it represents. Its elite’s response to this long-term crisis was not a coherent political project – let alone one that would go beyond reintroducing flat tax – nor a mandate for it, but escalating moralization of politics, which provided a simple solution to political failure. In this, Slovak liberalism mirrored global development, albeit under extreme local conditions. After immersing in the enchanting discourse, ordinary medals for participation in elections became a shining moral victory. The deficit of political perspective led to a complete reduction of politics to moral identity – the claim to authority shifted from the idea of a good program (parties and ideologies kept changing) to a narcissistic idea of a claim to power solely based on morality. Politics became a fight of good against evil, stripped of any programmatic ambition. Not surprisingly, Michal Šimečka’s recent interview in Denník N ended precisely with the headline that his mother is definitely not a “bad person.” Slávka Henčeková, for .týždeň, writes about “a good person” Marta.

Among the morbid symptoms of this crisis is the growing belief in political transcendence, which Marián Leško expressed best in a Kierkegaardian reply that “one side (has) almost all the truth, but the other side has almost all the majority.” Alongside this goes the ritual adoration of leaders, liturgical invocation of saviors, and persistent charismatic construction of their public image – from Radoslav Procházka through Andrej Kiska, Zuzana Čaputová, and Ľudovít Ódor to Michal Šimečka and Ivan Korčok – and this is only an incomplete list. It does not come from below, from voters, but rather from opinion makers unable to correct episodes of their own enthusiasm for each new political figure. A good example is the construction of Ivan Korčok’s public image during the presidential elections, where he became “the first among equals” and “citizen Korčok,” standing “discreetly and humbly” in a protest crowd, embodying “the ethos of service to citizens” (Andrej Bán). Commentators turned Korčok into a “symbol of the democratic ‘we’” and “fundamental moral principles of Western civilization” (Martin M. Šimečka). It even touched “the deepest within us” (Štefan Hríb). He had not even won yet, and he was already chosen by providence. The cover of Denník N stated that “he will be a good president” (Matúš Kostolný).

If today we are outraged by the naivety of opposition voters who thought that the careers of their leaders would not be accompanied by moral lapses of various sizes, it is appropriate to consider whether it might be more suitable to direct the outrage rather at the opposition elite, which actively educates this electorate. An elite that, in a challenging political situation, resigned from meaningful political and social projects and replaced them entirely with endless moralization of the public space and continuous creation of a pantheon of saviors. Of course, all this was wrapped in the language of rationality or modernity and in opposition to seemingly irrational masses of voters looking up to coalition leaders like Fico. Well, as sociologists since Émile Durkheim and believers from Sunday school know: the more sacred the object, the easier its aura can be destroyed by a fleeting touch with the profane world.

Morality cannot be expelled from politics because the struggle of good and evil is its fundamental lubricant – most social processes ultimately have a moral dimension. However, it is possible to set civil boundaries for it, so that it does not end in (self-)sacralization and (self-)adoration. Part of such a maneuver would also be to redirect the energy of Central European intellectual reflex into criticism of self-centered sermons of opposition political and intellectual elites, instead of admonishing the electorate that they accept the appealing opinions of opinion makers. Or, if someone wishes, into building an alternative politics.

The author is a sociologist

The text is part of the PERSPECTIVES project – a new brand for independent, constructive, and multiperspective journalism. The project is funded by the European Union. The expressed opinions and positions are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). The European Union or EACEA do not assume any responsibility for them.