The critical attitude of a political observer towards current events is often just a semblance of participation, for it does not even attempt to influence politics and politicians, merely smugly stating the fact that everything is bad. As we know, bad examples tend to be contagious, which is why such views become popular and spread quickly, with society accepting them as an obvious and self-evident truth. And a conviction rooted in supposedly righteous moral outrage takes hold—a conviction about which Jurevičs writes ironically: “the only thing still needed is to throw all the politicians overboard from the ship of state, so that the ship, freed from evil spirits, might sail with full sails into the waters of eternal happiness and prosperity.”

Mārtiņš Mintaurs, Domuzīme, 2016, No. 3

We live in an age where respected Latvian writers speak in all seriousness about a “totalitarianism” reigning in Latvia (Gundega Repše: “Lies are part of everyday life in Latvia; there is no disgust for them; we respect schemers, intriguers, and manipulators.”), where publicists excitedly claim that in power are “persons who consider the people a herd of milkable idiots” (Otto Ozols: “They consider the Latvian people a cowardly herd of idiots.”). Therefore, our colleague Mintaurs’ reflections on what those expressing such views actually represent and what their responsibility is for what is said are highly appropriate. Using Pauls Jurevičs’ text as a starting point is also appropriate—even if analogies with the critique of democracy by Mihels and Shilde are perhaps not the most self-evident context for such a conversation.

First of all, this is a matter of a practical problem. Specifically, in practical politics, the lack of well-educated and trained minds is becoming increasingly visible. The recent budget adoption process and the so-called “discussions” on tax policy serve as good evidence for this, among other things. However, on the other hand, people who make their living by writing and (at least theoretically) thinking are railing more and more harshly every day against everything related to politics and governance. These seem to be two interconnected processes: a lower concentration of intelligence within the political machine creates more pressure and noise outside of it. Of course, as Jurevičs has already noted, it is very difficult to persuade a proper intellectual to do something as “dirty” as day-to-day political work. Yet the root of the problem lies deeper. We really do have real problems with human capital in politics, and people capable of working in law, banking, business, or international organizations are unlikely to go there. Firstly, the salaries there are relatively poor; secondly, there is negative publicity; thirdly, career prospects are completely unclear; and fourthly, there are difficulties in returning to one's previous field of activity. I do not want to claim that there are no bright minds and sensible people in our politics. There are, indeed, but they are a minority before whom one ought to take off one's hat. I am not sure that politics really lacks those “public intellectuals” who sometimes make noise in the media. As experience shows, this contingent is quite helpless in practical politics. However, the fact that there is an acute lack of trained brains and an elementary ability to formulate thoughts is an indisputable fact.

One might hope that at some more critical moment, more modernly educated and knowledgeable people will flow into the Latvian political elite. But hoping that a part of the intelligentsia will listen to Jurevičs and stop pointlessly denigrating their country is harder. And there is no excuse in saying that by insulting the “clique”, the “system”, the “elite”, the “gang”, or the “politicians” in power, we are not actually insulting the country. We are. The ideal, intellectual Latvia, which is “like a diamond egg, without a single black spot”, has never been seen by anyone, and never will be. Real Latvia, by contrast, will always have shortcomings, like everything created by people. Such an understanding would allow us to descend from moralizing heights and more clearly understand how democracy functions. It does not require divinely virtuous people in power, but rather relies on the ability of society to learn from mistakes over time and to restrict normally selfish politicians within known frameworks of public interest.

Now, is it not an absurd assumption that the Latvian people have continuously, over the course of 25 years, elected corrupt criminals in free and fair elections who are now parasitizing like ticks on the healthy organism of the people? Such assertions create the impression that the humanities intelligentsia has the right to set itself up as a judge over the rest of the social groups, which, try as you might, have elected the political elite. Also, the claim that such intellectuals are somehow “upbringing” or “educating” society with their ranting might have sounded credible in the days of the Narodniks, but not today. Let us not even mention that upbringing and education would require at least minimal competence. The worst part is that such “education” is more likely to instill only disgust for the subject in question, and nothing else. Moreover, the critics’ desire to somehow separate themselves from the “dear but ignorant” people who, lo and behold, vote en masse for Kaimiņš, Lembergs, Ušakovs, and other “evil” politicians, is difficult to understand. Because of my profession, I encounter quite different people in Latvia—from bankers, entrepreneurs, and politicians to forest workers and auto mechanics. In all these groups, one can meet very different people; none of them is without their flaws, yet I can say with full responsibility that these groups, including politicians, are, by and large, completely equivalent to one another. They are all Latvian people, with their talents and faults, with their wisdom and folly, their petty meanness and their patriotism.

Recently, there has been much talk in Europe and the USA about populism—understood as the contrasting of the “good people” against the “evil, corrupt elite”. This is nothing new for Latvian politicians either, and Artuss Kaimiņš will yet brilliantly confirm this to us. However, it is misguided to imagine that the biggest and primary populists in any society are exactly the politicians. Quite the contrary: to be a populist, one does not necessarily have to be a politician. It is even more convenient not to be one, because such moves tend to have a high price in politics. There are, after all, quieter fields in which to engage in it.
Article first published in the January 2017 issue of "Rīgas Laiks" magazine
Pixabay photograph used