Politics and power
7
more types, in which, however, one type is prevailing and defining. This can be said
of the archetypical conflict that opposes
men to women, though
often we should speak
of sheer oppression and exploitation rather than conflict, because the element of
resistance is weak or absent. Beyond all anthropological, socio-economic and reli-
gious aspects, this conflict also heeds direct political moments, as in the long-lasting
exclusion of women from electoral franchise (even in Switzerland until 1971) and in
the war against women (exclusion from education in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan until
2001 and in Taliban-infiltrated areas of Pakistan, later
kidnapping, raping, enslave-
ment of women and young girls in Africa and the Middle East after 2011) waged by
Islamist
10
terror groups since the end of the twentieth century. In light of these events,
the ideological conflict pursued by an extreme version of Islam with its moderate
versions and with liberal cultures comes together with the defence of the economic,
social and political privileges men enjoy in societies in which the patriarchal power
structures have so far survived all attempts at cultural modernisation. The cruel and
despising attitude towards women (as well as lesbian, gay, bisexual
and transgender or
LGBT people) displayed in this war binds together a political defence of privileges
within the family and the community with pre-political, allegedly religious sense of
superiority deeply rooted in a fragile and aggressive male identity, bred on violence.
In this fusion the presence of both the ideological and the identity moment nour-
ishes
fanaticism, an attitude completely opposed to a reasonable way to manage poli-
tics and nonetheless so coessential to all conflicts in which gender, race, ethnic and
religious aspects have played a role – from the persecution of heretics in the European
Middle Ages through the totalitarianisms of the twentieth century to jihadism.
This differentiated account of conflict has a twofold sense. The practical sense
is that whatever regime actors may choose for their polity, they must know how
to come to terms with conflict in its three-tiered configuration and renounce any
attempt at reducing the three types to just one, for example falling into the self-
delusion that a settling of interest-based conflicts can also
dissolve an identity con-
flict. Theoretically, the core question asks whether or not conflict is conducive to
good politics, whether politics should get rid of it or coexist with it. This question
sounds very normative, as if we were at this stage in the position to say what good
politics is, or more in general as if the search for a ‘good’ model of politics were this
book’s
leading aim, which it is not. All of this will become clear later.
Different that the models of politics people have in mind may be, one feature is
likely to be common to all or nearly all of them: ‘good politics’ always contains a
certain degree of order and regularity, which makes the life of the people somehow
possible, whatever the degree of liberty, equality or happiness the regime makes
room for. Daily shoot-outs or complete administrative chaos – as we shall better see
in Chapter 3 – do not fulfil what the people expect from politics. But
how to bring
about this result? Should conflict be regarded as a threat to civil (in the sense of non-
feral) order and be possibly eliminated or marginalised? Does good politics mean
an order in which conflict is prevented from coming up, and conflict-less integra-
tion is the supreme aim? This is the
integrationist path in social and political theory,
prevailing in antiquity (Aristotle, BCE 384–322) and the Middle Ages (Aquinas,