What does emotion have to do with geopolitics? Everything, according to Dominique Moïsi, author of The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope Are Reshaping the World (Anchor Doubleday). Moïsi, a French political scientist, Harvard professor, and son of an Auschwitz survivor, argues that we cannot understand the events of history without careful consideration of the role of emotions, “which seem to control us much more than we control them.” The world, he says, is characterized by three key emotions: fear, hope and humiliation.

The reason I have chosen these three emotions is that they are closely linked with the notion of confidence, which is the defining factor in how nations and people address the challenges they face as well as how they relate to one another. Fear is the absence of confidence. If your life is dominated by fear, you are apprehensive about the present and expect the future to become ever more dangerous. Hope, by contrast, is an expression of confidence; it is based on the conviction that today is better than yesterday and that tomorrow will be better than today. And humiliation is the injured confidence of those who have lost hope in the future; your lack of hope is the fault of others, who have treated you badly in the past. When the contrast between your idealized and glorious past and your frustrating present is too great, humiliation prevails.

Moïsi argues that today, Asia is the region of hope, the Middle East is the region of humiliation, and the West (Europe and the United States) is the region of fear. The book reminds me of The Post-American World by Fareed Zakaria, which basically says that the world has changed and while that fact is unsettling for the West, it’s not all bad news, especially if we can learn from Asia’s successes. Here, Moïsi paints for the most part in broad strokes, akin to Thomas Friedman’s sweeping assertion that the world is flat.

These generalizations are true as far as they go, but they both have their fair share of exceptions, and Moïsi concedes as much. While Asia is the region of hope, this isn’t particularly true in Japan, with its aging population being a deciding factor. While humiliation sets the tone in the Middle East, the emirates are for the most part exempt, enjoying relative prosperity and stability, at least for now. And while the West is largely gripped by fear these days (largely in response to Asia's hope and the Middle East's humiliation), the United States has always had an underlying sense of hope, and it surfaces here and there even still.

To his credit, he also includes a chapter on the countries -- Russia, Israel, and possibly Iran -- and entire regions -- Africa and Latin America -- that don’t fit into his sweeping generalizations. He explains these exclusions:

In the beginning of the twenty-first century, the jury is still out on Africa and Latin America. Policy makers, businesspeople, and those concerned with human development cannot ignore these two continents. But they are not, not yet, the places where the future of the world is being decided, nor will they become so in the foreseeable future.

It seems a bit short-sighted to simply exclude from a book on geopolitics two huge continents with a combined 1.6 billion people* in 80 countries**. Also, though the book was published relatively recently (in May 2009), parts of it are noticeably outdated, particularly considering the events that have swept the Middle East over the past year or so. Would Moïsi still consider the Middle East to be a region of humiliation, or would it now be better characterized as one of hope? I'm not sure.

But all in all, I can’t fault Moïsi too much for these shortcomings. The so-called Arab Spring caught just about all of us by surprise, and despite my own biases, maybe he’s right that at least for now Africa and Latin America aren’t going to decide the future for the rest of the world. He is right that emotions certainly do shape how we live our lives, and reflecting on broader emotional patterns at the geopolitical level may help us better understand the complicated world in which we live.

How does Moïsi’s argument sit with you, that the world is characterized by fear, humiliation, and hope? What significant exceptions do you see? How might a better understanding of the role emotions play in shaping our world help us in our pursuit of the common good? And while I'm at it, what role do you see the rapidly growing church in Africa, Asia and Latin America playing in the reshaping of our world?

Notes:
* Based on populations of 572,039,894 in Latin America [source] and 1,022,234,000 in Africa [source].
** 56 countries and territories in Africa [source] and 24 in Latin America [source].

[Photo credit: Karim Selmaoui/EPA via The Guardian]

There's so much I could say about it, but I'd prefer everyone just watch it for themselves. I found it at Redbox and it's also available for sale on Amazon, so no excuses. If you need more convincing, there's a great review of it from Ragan Sutterfield in Englewood Review of Books. I love that he compares it to another one of my very favorite films, The Mission:

Every year or so I watch The Mission. I watch it because it reminds me, through its story of redemption and faithfulness, what it means to be a Christian—what sorts of real challenges Christians face, what the call to non-violence looks like in a context where that  decision is not easy. It is a movie that shows that a life lived in faith to Christ may well end in a manner similar to His—that the “lose your life to save it” bit isn’t just some advice to just “let go,” but a true statement of a very possible outcome for those who are faithful.

The new French film, Des hommes et des dieux (Of Gods and Men)... is a meditation on the meaning of the incarnation — of the Emmanuel life of the God who is love; of the God who has chosen not only to be among us but to live through us in this strange witness we call the church.

Recently, Honduras has been experiencing a lot of tension regarding the education system, including widespread and lengthy teacher strikes. A Christian anti-corruption group that AJS supports, Transformemos Honduras (meaning “Let’s Transform Honduras”), has begun to help mediate on behalf of the group that ought to be front and center but is often forgotten: the children whom schools theoretically serve.

I met AJS co-founder Kurt Ver Beek at a Christian international development conference in Grand Rapids a couple of years ago, and I think he has some important things to say not only on human rights in Honduras, but on what it means as Christians “to act justly and to love mercy” wherever we are. Read his powerful article in PRISM Magazine about how brave and loving Christians helped to bring about the dramatic transformation of the most violent neighborhood in Honduras’ capital, Tegucigalpa, where the Ver Beek family has lived for more than 20 years. Also, check out his interview below, where he argues that rather than considering dysfunctional government systems in developing countries a nuisance to work around, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) ought to work to transform them into just systems that work for the poor.

Justice for Hondurans - Inner Compass from Calvin College on Vimeo.

Please consider supporting AJS in their important work in Honduras.

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Some Central Americans switched during the civil wars of the 1980s, when Catholic priests began criticising their governments. To the authorities, if you were a Catholic you were suspicious, says Gregorio Rosa Chavez, the assistant bishop of San Salvador. After Archbishop Óscar Romero was murdered in 1980, many turned to Protestant churches.

I hadn't heard this specific explanation before, though it does make some sense. Throughout the era of brutal autocratic governments in the region, the Catholic Church didn't always take the side of the vulnerable and in various ways actually supported the oppressive status quo. Because of this, they undoubtedly alienated a lot of poor and indigenous folks. Finally taking the side of the poor -- as Archbishop Romero did in El Salvador -- would have seemed to help in bringing the poor back into their fold. But the effect was probably two-fold, since taking such a stance would have at the same time scared off some from the middle- and upper-classes, as well as parts of the indigenous population, who preferred to align themselves with the less politically engaged Protestant churches in order to avoid suspicion of supporting the guerrilla movement.

With the region increasingly violent and economically polarized these days, it will be worth watching what Christians in Central America -- evangelical and Catholic alike -- will do about it. Those who confront violence and injustice will suffer the consequences; if not from the dictators and death squads of the 80s, from drug cartels and organized crime syndicates of today. Those who avoid speaking or acting out, meanwhile, may attract larger numbers. This dilemma is extremely difficult to navigate, because the pragmatic answer and the faithful answer aren't necessarily the same. Because of the overwhelming circumstances in which these brothers and sisters find themselves, I hope we in the north will offer them our prayer and support. At the same time, I think we'd do well to listen and learn far more than we propose answers to the life-and-death questions they face. Our circumstances are far less dire, and the last thing Christians in Central America need is advice from a safe distance.

Nonetheless, questions for us to consider in our respective contexts: in the face of overwhelming opposition and potentially fatal violence, does the church have a responsibility to act? Can a church that puts self-preservation and safety above sacrificial love and the seeking of the common good truly be faithful to its calling?

Señor, ten piedad. Cristo, ten piedad. Señor, ten piedad de nosotros.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy on us.

[Photo credit: Christian Science Monitor]

In an hour and a half or so we´ll be heading on to Sipacapa where I'll be staying at his house and will be conducting the remaining interviews and participatory learning activities. I'd appreciate prayer for that. I hope to take care of my remaining work today and tomorrow, because Thursday Mario's brother is heading to the capital and I've been offered a ride with him.

I should also say that prior to coming out here several people somewhat familiar with the situation offered words of caution, which I´m thankful for and believe are based at least in part on fact. And maybe it´s just that I have been with people who can vouch for me, but I have not experienced a trace of animosity or suspicion, even when moving around on my own. Already I´ve had several conversations with perfect strangers and all have been very friendly and welcoming. One elderly man I asked for directions asked where I was from and after a brief chat concluded by saying he is honored that I´m visiting the area.

Of course the situation with the mine is serious and of course there are incidents of crime. But at the same time, as I walk these streets and meet these people and consider what they are facing, I also believe that the Enemy is quite happy to see well-intentioned followers of Christ diverted from pursuing righteousness and justice because of fear and misinformation, whether deliberate or not. There's a difference between courage and stupidity; I get that. But I think there's also a big difference between being faithful and being timid. The people I´m meeting out here are demonstrating a faithful courage from which I know I can learn a lot.

But enough of my soapbox. Mario just called and we´re leaving sooner than expected. I may or may not have internet access while in Sipacapa, but thanks for your continued prayer and support.