All The Pink Bits
Compelling a Rethink of the Principles Underpinning Civilisation
When I was at school in Britain in the 1950s, geography lessons invariably focused on the British Empire. I wasn’t taught how “we” came to “own” all those pink bits on the map, nor the brutal pain and suffering that ensued. Only later did I discover the truth; and only recently did I realise that the West’s self-perception as the bastion of moral authority and progress in the modern world, is precariously poised on the edge of a profound collapse of which it barely comprehends.
This unraveling, though still uncertain in many respects, is not the result of sudden calamity but rather a gradual exposé of hypocrisy, and a long concealed immorality conducted under the guise of Western exceptionalism. This facade, once held aloft by Enlightenment ideals of democracy, human rights, and rational governance, is now crumbling under the weight of its own contradictions. The landscape it reveals is one scarred by selective intervention, economic self-interest, continuing colonialism and racial bias—factors that underpin geopolitical decisions, particularly noticeable in the Middle East and Africa.
The concept of the “West” is often perceived as a unified bloc, yet it’s more accurately conceived as a collection of countries and societies bound by shared historical experiences and philosophical foundations. Central to this Occidental worldview are the ideals that emerged from the 18th century Enlightenment—a period marked by a fervent belief in Cartesian logic, rational analysis, scientific realism, individual rights, and the pursuit of what was vaguely referred to as “progress” - though more precisely understood as an increase in industrialised productivity and consumption. These principles were championed as the cornerstones of modern Western thought, shaping everything from governance and legal systems to cultural norms, schooling and economic practices.
The Enlightenment fostered the belief in human rationality and enlightened self-interest as the driving force behind societal advancement. This conviction led to the development of democratic institutions and the rule of law, positioning Western nations as champions of liberty and human rights. However, this worldview also carried with it intrinsic contradictions. While espousing ideals of freedom and equality, the same era saw the rise of colonialism, slavery, and imperialism, practices that fundamentally contradicted the professed values of justice and equity.
All too often, these contradictions manifest in the contemporary geopolitical landscape, where the unjustified rhetoric of Western exceptionalism masks ongoing injustices. The discriminatory application of Western ideals is evident in foreign policies that prioritise strategic interests over ethical considerations, as seen in the selective interventions in conflicts across Palestine, Sudan, and the Congo. The Enlightenment’s legacy, while promoting universal human rights, has been appropriated to justify actions that serve narrow geopolitical and economic interests.
Moreover, the Enlightenment’s emphasis on rational governance and scientific progress has led to a technocratic approach that casually disregards cultural and social differences. Thus, the worldview assumes a one-size-fits-all model of development that conveniently ignores the diverse contexts and needs of non-Western societies. This has led to a missionary-like zeal when exporting the West’s world-system to other more “primitive” parts of the world, and policies that, while well-intentioned, can perpetuate neocolonial dynamics and intensify global inequalities.
Understanding the West as a construct shaped by Enlightenment ideals allows for a more subtle critique of its role in the modern world. It reveals how deeply ingrained beliefs in progress and rationality can both inspire and blind, leading to a moral dissonance between proclaimed values and actual practices. Acknowledging this complexity is essential for reimagining a global order that genuinely reflects the principles of justice, equality, and shared humanity. This involves not only critiquing the failures of the Western model but also incorporating diverse perspectives and solutions that respect the multiple variety of human experience.
Why am I going to such lengths to explain the obvious? Because Western governments, including Australia which still considers itself a Western outpost in spite of its geographical situation and multicultural composition, are facing mounting criticism for their double standards in responding to genocides in regions like Congo, Sudan and Palestine. The pattern that emerges is one of selective outrage and intervention, driven less by the principle of protecting human life and more by economic and political priorities. In Palestine, unwavering support for Israel, despite credible allegations of human rights abuses, and ethnic cleansing, reflects a prioritisation of geopolitical alliances over humanitarian concerns. Similarly, in resource-rich regions like the Congo and Sudan, Western interests in minerals like coltan and cobalt have led to a willful blindness to atrocities, valuing economic gain over human dignity. This is not just about diplomatic alliances; it’s about moral complicity in ethnic cleansing and the suppression of dissenting voices.
The roots of these issues can be traced back to colonial exploitation and continued imperialist intrusions, where Western corporations and governments profit from the chaos. The Congo and Sudan serve as blatant examples of neocolonial exploitation, where the lust for minerals eclipses any genuine concern for human life. The West’s silence, its collective shrug in the face of genocide, is not plain oversight but a calculated indifference that prioritises resource access over human dignity. This economic interest leads to complicity and silence from Western powers, who benefit from instability that allows cheap access to resources.
The influence of powerful alliances, particularly the Israeli lobby in countries like the US and the UK, further entrench this moral decay. These groups wield significant influence over foreign policy, ensuring uncritical support for actions that contradict international legal norms. This support includes diplomatic protection, arms sales, and suppression of pro-Palestinian activism, undermining international legal obligations to prevent genocide. The disparity in media coverage, where atrocities in Palestine are spotlighted while those in Congo and Sudan are marginalised, reflects a racialised hierarchy of empathy that permeates Western consciousness. Media and governments tend to highlight crises that align with their strategic interests or those amplified by influential lobbies, while others are relegated to the periphery.
In practice, Western governments routinely ignore their international legal obligations, choosing instead the path of realpolitik. Legal obligations to prevent and punish genocide are habitually flouted when they conflict with national interests or alliances. This gap between legal rhetoric and policy action leads to widespread impunity and growing public outrage, laying bare their true priorities: economic gain and strategic advantage over ethical decency and responsibility. The institutions designed to uphold justice, such as the United Nations, are rendered impotent, stymied by the same powers that claim to champion human rights. The failure of international institutions to effectively enforce genocide prevention further exacerbates this moral void.
This total failure demands a radical rethinking of global power dynamics. Grassroots movements and global activism, increasingly aware of interconnected oppressions, challenge the narrative of Western moral superiority. They stress that solidarity must extend across borders and resist efforts to pit one struggle against another. The call is not just for more critique and hand-wringing but for an actionable solidarity that demands accountability and a consistent defense of human rights, regardless of geopolitical convenience. The most obvious “solution” lies in confronting these entrenched interests—exposing the money trail, challenging the influence of lobbyists, and amplifying solidarity across struggles to demand accountability and an unwavering defense of human rights. But it’s not quite as simple as that.
The concept of Western exceptionalism, once a source of soft power, now rings hollow. The dissonance between rhetoric and action has eroded credibility, attracting scrutiny from emerging powers and regional coalitions eager to redefine principled leadership in the context of multipolar realities. The potential collapse of the Western paradigm is not just an ending but a transformative beginning. It suggests a shift towards a world where power is redistributed, allowing historically marginalised voices to shape the global agenda.
Naturally, even setting aside the hegemonic lust of the US, such a transition will not be without its challenges. The decline of Western dominance could lead to instability, with power vacuums potentially filled by authoritarian regimes. Yet, even within this uncertainty lies opportunity. The demise of entrenched hierarchies could pave the way for governance models rooted in inclusivity, equality, and justice. Rather than clinging to ideals that have proven exclusionary or hypocritical, there is an opportunity to redefine what constitutes progress. Emphasising sustainability, social justice, and human dignity over economic growth could lead to a more holistic understanding of development, one that fulfills the long-standing promise of giving precedence to the health, well-being, and security of people and the planet. But let’s move from pretending all of this is wise, to the the real world of greed, competition and prejudiced self-interest.
The neoreactionary musings of influential people like Curtis Yarvin, often known by his pseudonym Mencius Moldbug, challenges the foundations of democracy. He argues for alternative governance structures that prioritise corporate efficiency over what he perceives as the inherent chaos of democratic systems. His ideas, once considered fringe and slightly bonkers, have gained traction among those oligarchs who are clearly disillusioned with the current state of affairs. This ideological undercurrent, advocating for a fundamental restructuring of societal governance, adds a layer of complication to the potential for systemic upheaval in Western societies.
Compounding this ideological shift is the influence of tech magnates like Larry Ellison, Mark Zuckerberg, and the PayPal Mafia duo of Elon Musk and Peter Thiel. These individuals, often wielding more economic power than some nation-states, challenge the traditional roles of governments. Their ventures into digital infrastructure and surveillance technology suggest a future where corporate interests may easily overshadow state functions. Companies like Palantir, co-founded by Thiel, exemplify this trend, leveraging data analytics in ways that blur the lines between state and corporate power. This is particularly concerning in the realm of digital identification systems, which could enable unprecedented levels of population control. Unlike China’s social credit system, which monitors and scores citizens’ behaviour mostly beneficially, the integration of digital IDs with advanced analytics could facilitate a pre-crime approach, predicting and penalising actions before they occur. This Orwellian level of surveillance and control poses significant risks to individual freedoms and privacy, potentially allowing corporations to exert nightmarish influence over personal and societal behaviours in ways previously unimaginable.
Elon Musk’s projects, from SpaceX to Neuralink, transcend national boundaries, also hinting at a future dominated by corporate-driven agendas. The potential integration of Neuralink’s brain-machine interface technology with digital ID systems raises the spectre of even more intrusive forms of surveillance and control, where thoughts and intentions could be monitored and manipulated. This concentration of power in the hands of a few oligarchs raises grave questions about the viability of existing state structures and the potential for state implosion. As these technologies advance, the balance between individual rights and corporate power becomes increasingly precarious, demanding vigilant oversight to prevent abuses that could rapidly undermine democratic institutions and personal freedoms.
The presidency of Donald Trump illustrates the extreme volatility and brittleness within Western democracies. Characterised by populist rhetoric, institutional scepticism, a divisive approach to governance and foreign affairs, and a web spun entirely from fictions and hubris, Trump is exposing deep-seated fractures within the American polity. His tenure amplifies voices calling for radical change, tapping into widespread disillusionment and anger towards the political establishment.
This environment, ripe with tension, mirrors precedents where similar situation have precipitated revolutionary fervour. History teaches us that such pathological societal conditions often precede significant transformation, whether through peaceful reform or violent upheaval. The combination of political disillusionment, ideological radicalism, and technological disruption is creating a perfect storm that challenges the fundamentals of state power. As these elements converge, the stage is set for rebellion.
The potential breakdown of the Western ideal, driven by these forces, is bleak. It doesn’t necessarily signify an end, however, but an opportunity for rebirth. It invites a reimagining of governance, societal structures, and relationships, compelling a rethink of the principles that underpin civilisation. As we gaze into the depths of uncertainty, the cry for revolution—whether in thought, policy, or practice—grows more intense. It now ricochets loudly from one concerned quarter to another. A pall of world-weariness and fear hangs in the air and is now palpable across much of the West, leaving me in little doubt that a transition of some kind is in the wings. The challenge will be navigating that transition with a commitment to constructing a world that values justice, equality, and shared humanity, while harnessing the lessons of the past to forge a more resilient and inclusive global community.
In this transformative period, the role of civil society, grassroots movements, and transnational networks becomes even more vital. These actors can drive the push for accountability and transparency, ensuring that the shift away from Western dominance doesn’t lead to new forms of exploitation or oppression. By advocating for inclusive governance and equitable resource distribution, they can help shape a future that truly reflects the principles of justice and equality, inching it closer perhaps to the much derided Sinic worldview.
Ultimately, the collapse of the Western ideal doesn’t have to end in ruin; neither does it necessarily end with technological oppression and the continued rise of the oligarchs. Far from it. Collapse can and should become a catalyst for renewal on a higher plane of consciousness. It should offer a unique opportunity to build a world community that transcends the limitations of past paradigms, embracing a vision of global citizenship where all voices are heard, and all lives are valued. If we can get there, we must ensure that the measure of our civilization will not be its exceptionalism, its paranoia, or its hubris, but its capacity for mutual understanding and collective action. If we can find the wisdom switch in the darkest days ahead, we might even be able to create a future for the human family that’s both just and congenial.