zao mi je, nemam snage da prevodim. mod moze da skloni, samo ostavite malo da procitaju ti koji mogu.
ova agencija je jedan od vidjenijih komercijalnih obavestajnih resursa. neke stvari vrede, vecina ne, ali da ne objasnjavam. s obzirom da rade analize za mnoge vlade, drustvene organizacije i kompanije sirom sveta, ima smisla da se procita jer ovo citaju ljudi koji vuku poteze na raznim stranama. generalni menadzer agencije je bivsi agent mosada i cie. tako kazu, ali vi i ja znamo da bivsi agenti ili ne postoje ili su bivsi kada prestanu da postoje
resurs se placa a ovo vam je za dz. zdravozivo.
A Question of Integration
By George Friedman
For more than a week, France has been torn by riots that have been, for the most part, concentrated in the poorer suburbs of Paris. The rioters essentially have been immigrants -- or the children or grandchildren of immigrants -- most of whom had come to France from its former colonies. They are, in many cases, French citizens by right of empire. But what is not clear is whether they ever became, in the fullest sense of the word, French.
And in that question rests an issue that could define European -- and world -- history in the 21st century.
Every country has, from time to time, social unrest. This unrest frequently becomes violent, but that is not necessarily defining. The student uprisings around the world in the 1960s had, in retrospect, little lasting significance, whereas the riots by black Americans during the same period were of enormous importance -- symptomatic of a profound tension within American society. The issue with the French riots is to identify the degree to which they are, or will become, historically significant.
For the most part, the rioters have been citizens of France. But to a great extent, they are not regarded as French. This is not rooted necessarily in racism, although that is not an incidental phenomenon. Rather, it is rooted in the nature of the French nation and, indeed, in that of the European nation-state and European democracy -- an experience that distinguishes Europe from many other regions of the world.
The notion of the European nation stands in opposition to the multinational empires that dominated Europe between the 17th and 20th centuries. These were not only anti-democratic, dynastic entities, but they were also transnational. The idea of national self-determination as the root of modern democracy depended first on the recognition of the nation as a morally significant category. Why should a nation be permitted to determine its own fate unless the nation was of fundamental importance? Thus, in Europe, the concept of democracy and the concept of the nation developed together.
The guiding principle was that every nation had a right to determine its own fate. All of the nations whose identities had been submerged within the great European empires were encouraged to reassert their historical identities through democratic institutions. As the empires collapsed, the submerged nations re-emerged -- from Ireland to Slovakia, from Macedonia to Estonia. This process of devolution was, in a certain sense, endless: It has encompassed, for instance, not only the restoration or establishment of sovereignty to the European powers' colonial holdings in places like Africa or Latin America, but pressure from groups within the territorial borders of those recognized powers -- such as the Basques in Spain -- that their national identity be recognized and their right to democratic self-determination be accepted.
Europe's definition of a nation was less than crisply clear. In general, it assumed a geographic and cultural base. It was a group of people living in a fairly defined area, sharing a language, a history, a set of values and, in the end, a self-concept: A Frenchman knew himself to be a Frenchman and was known by other Frenchmen to be French. If this appears to be a little circular, it is -- and it demonstrates the limits of logic, for this definition of nationhood worked well in practice. It also could wander off into the near-mysticism of romantic nationalism and, at times, into vicious xenophobia.
The European definition of the nation poses an obvious challenge. Europe has celebrated national self-determination among all principles, and adhered to a theory of the nation that was forged in the battle with dynastic empires. At the heart of its theory of nationalism is the concept that the nation -- national identity -- is something to which one is born. Ideally, every person should be a part of one nation, and his citizenship should coincide with that.
But this is, of course, not always the case. What does one do with the foreigner who comes to your country and wants to be a citizen, for example? Take it a step further: What happens when a foreigner comes to your country and wants not only to be a citizen, but to become part of your nation? It is, of course, difficult to change identity. Citizenship can be granted. National identity is another matter.
Contrast this with the United States, Canada or Australia -- three examples where alternative theories of nationhood have been pursued. If being French or German is rooted in birth, being an American, Canadian or Australian is rooted in choice. The nation can choose who it wants as a citizen, and the immigrant can choose to become a citizen. Citizenship connotes nationality. More important, all of these countries, which were founded on immigration, have created powerful engines designed to assimilate the immigrants over generations. It would not be unreasonable to say that these countries created their theory of nationhood around the practice of migration and assimilation. It is not that the process is not painful on all sides, but there is no theoretical bar to the idea of anyone becoming, for example, an American -- whereas there is a theoretical hurdle to the idea of elective nationalism in Europe.