When it comes to Russia's draconian anti-gay laws, Nazi comparisons are apt

Usually, comparisons to Nazism are idle and misplaced. But the new anti-gay legislation in Russia, a supposedly progressive democracy, is truly reminiscent of the anti-Semitic Nuremberg Laws.

“First they came for the communists, / and I did not speak out because I wasn’t a communist”, begins Martin Niemöller’s famous poem that so hauntingly critiques the complacence of the German intellectuals who looked on while the Nazis rose to power. Who, eighty years later, is speaking out while Russia comes for its LGBT population?

There’s clearly a loud and desperate voice for gay rights within Russia, as harrowing images of bloodied activists are becoming increasingly common. Further west, Barack Obama recently condemned Russia’s increasingly draconian anti-gay laws in an interview with Jay Leno on the Tonight Show. Meanwhile, this week, Stephen Fry wrote an open letter to David Cameron and the International Olympic Committee calling for a the fast-approaching 2014 Winter Olympics to be pulled out of Sochi. In his letter, which went viral, Fry makes a potent comparison between the upcoming games in Russia and the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany. In arguments, comparisons to Nazism are usually idle and misplaced. In this case, however, likening the dead-eyed marsupial Putin to Hitler couldn’t be more apt. In Russia, a supposedly progressive democracy, new anti-gay legislation is truly reminiscent of the anti-Semitic Nuremberg Laws. It is paving the way for a state in which LGBT people are tortured to death, while the authorities do nothing.

In a series of bills pushed through the Duma, Putin has criminalised “homosexual propaganda”. That’s right, this guy has a problem with camp. This guy. Anyone who “looks gay” (cough) is committing an arrestable offence. This now includes tourists. Adults have been banned from “corrupting” under-18s with the idea that homosexuality is anything but sordid and unnatural. Their perpetrators safe from prosecution, homophobic attacks have become pandemic in Russia. Many of these are carried out by neo-Nazi gangs who are leading a campaign called “Occupy Paedophilia”. Russia has a bizarre history of confusing love between members of the same sex with child molestation. In 1933, Stalin outlawed homosexuality for this very reason. Stalin also famously thought that Holland and the Netherlands were two separate countries - enough to make UKIP’s Godfrey Bloom look like a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society.

Russia’s relationship with its gay population has been complicated for hundreds of years. Homosexuality was first outlawed by Tsar Peter the Great in the eighteenth century. It was decriminalised by Lenin, shortly after the 1917 Revolution, then recriminalised by Stalin. In 1993, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Boris Yeltsin decriminalised homosexuality for the second time. The common factor in Russia’s intermittent scapegoating of LGBT people is a sycophantic desire to buddy-up to the Orthodox Church. Even Stalin, some historians have argued, had the church in mind when he outlawed homosexuality. Putin’s current war on gays is a noxious combination of the authoritarianism of the former USSR and the social conservatism of the Orthodoxy. In the name of traditional Russian values, the former KGB man has stripped millions of Russians of their human rights and facilitated some of the most heinous hate crimes in recent years.

Outrage at Russia’s legalised gay-bashing has been widespread. From calls to boycott Stolichnaya vodka in bars all over the world, to this petition by LGBT rights group All Out, demanding, as Stephen Fry did, that the IOC speak out against Russia’s human rights abuses in the lead-up to the Winter Olympics. The petition has received over 300,000 signatures and was presented to the IOC headquarters in Switzerland earlier this week. A failure by the committee to uphold its commitment to equality and protect gay athletes by pulling the games out of Putin’s cesspool of oppression would be an enormous blow to the global struggle for LGBT rights. The IOC has the power to take a meaningful stand against tyranny and a decision against doing so would be devastating.  

Last month, Desmond Tutu, speaking at the launch of a South African gay rights campaign, said that he would rather go to hell than worship a homophobic God. He added that he is as passionate about this campaign as he was about the one against apartheid, in which he was so instrumental. I accept that the Anglican Church, of which Tutu is a member, is vastly different from that of the Russian Orthodoxy. Yet the bishop pointed out that there is not only a place for gays within Christianity, but that failing to protect LGBT people is simply un-Christian. It may be a long while before the likes of the Orthodox Church, which Putin, while so ostentatiously camp himself, is so keen on placating, recognises this. In the meantime, the persecution of gays in Russia needs to be taken just as seriously by the global powers that be as the discrimination against Palestinians in Israel, or the Rohingya Muslims in Burma. This Saturday, a protest against Russia’s anti-gay legislation is taking place in Westminster. Londoners, I hope to see you there.

Gay rights activists after clashes with anti-gay demonstrators during a gay pride event in St Petersburg. Photo: Getty

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.

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Why Podemos will defeat the Spanish Socialists

A new alliance on the Spanish Left will be stronger than the sum of its parts.

On Saturday morning, on a palm-tree lined promenade in the small city of Badalona in eastern Catalonia, a 38-year-old woman named Mar García Puig fanned herself with her speaking notes after taking her turn on the stage.

Until six months ago, Puig was a literary editor with no professional experience in politics apart from attending demonstrations and rallies. Then, in December, her life was transformed twice over. In the national election, she won a parliamentary seat for En Comú Podem, the Catalan regional ally of the anti-austerity party Podemos. Four hours after she learned of her victory, Puig gave birth to twins.

Fortunately Puig’s husband, who is a teacher, was able to take paternity leave so that she could take up her seat. In parliament, Puig “felt like an alien”, she told me over coffee. As it turned out, she had to give up her seat prematurely anyway – along with all the other Spanish MPs – when repeated attempts to form a government failed. So now, in the lead-up to Spain’s first repeat election of the modern era, to be held on 26 June, Puig was on the campaign trail once more in a drive to win a parliamentary seat.

The December general election was as historic as it was inconclusive, ushering in a novel political era in Spain and leaving the country with the most fragmented parliament in its history. Fed up with corruption, austerity and a weak recovery from the global financial crisis, voters punished the mainstream parties, ending the 40-year dominance of the conservative Partido Popular (People’s Party) and the centre-left PSOE (Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party), which have held power since the death of General Franco. Neither group was able to win an absolute majority as new parties from both ends of the political spectrum garnered support from disenchanted voters.

On the left, Podemos, which was only founded in March 2014 by the ponytailed political scientist Pablo Iglesias, won 20 per cent of the vote. Ciudadanos (Citizens), formed in Catalonia a decade ago and occupying the centre left or centre right, depending on which analyst you talk to, secured a 14 per cent share.

Despite having four months to form a coalition government, the two biggest political parties could not reach a deal. The People’s Party, which had implemented a harsh austerity package over the past five years, recorded its worst electoral performance since 1989, losing 16 percentage points. It still won the most votes, however, and Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy was the first leader to be asked by King Felipe VI to form a government.

By the end of January, Rajoy conceded defeat after the PSOE refused to join his “grand coalition”. The Socialists then failed in their own attempt to form a government, leading the king to dissolve parliament and call a fresh election.

Despite the inconvenience of having to campaign nationwide once again – and being away from her twins – Mar García Puig’s enthusiasm for her new career is undiminished. “In Spain there is a window of opportunity,” she said. “There is a receptiveness to politics that there wasn’t before.”

When the repeat elections were called, some questioned whether Podemos and its regional allies could mobilise its supporters to the same extent as in December. Yet Puig believes that the party’s appeal has grown further in the six months that the country has been without a government. “We are still new and Podemos has this freshness – it can still make people join,” she told me.

The following day, as the church bells rang at noon in the Basque city of Bilbao, crowds gathered for another rally. For protection against the sun, Podemos supporters had covered their heads with purple triangular paper hats displaying the party name as it will appear on the ballot paper: Unidos Podemos, or “United We Can”.

In May, Podemos entered into an alliance with Izquierda Unida (United Left), the radical left-wing party that includes the Communist Party of Spain, and which won 3 per cent of the vote in December. Izquierda Unida is headed by Alberto Garzón, a 30-year-old Marxist economist who, according to a poll by the state-run CIS research institute, is the most highly rated party leader in Spain. Unlike Podemos’s Iglesias, who can fire up a crowd and is seen by some as divisive, Garzón is a calm and articulate politician who appeals to disaffected voters.

Nagua Alba, who at 26 is Podemos’s youngest MP, said the new alliance would be stronger than the sum of its parts, because Spain’s voting system punishes smaller parties when it comes to allocating seats in parliament. “It [the alliance] will attract all those people that aren’t convinced yet. It shows we can all work together,” Alba said.

As part of the agreement with Podemos, Izquierda Unida has agreed to drop its demands for a programme of renationalisation and withdrawing Spain from Nato. The alliance is campaigning on a platform of reversing Rajoy’s labour reforms, removing the national debt ceiling, opposing the TTIP trade deal, and increasing the minimum wage to €900 a month. A Unidos Podemos government would attempt to move the EU’s economic policy away from austerity and towards a more expansionist stance, joining a broader effort that involves Greece, Italy and Portugal. It is also committed to offering the Catalans a referendum on independence, a move that the mainstream parties strongly oppose.

The latest polls suggest that Unidos Podemos will become Spain’s second-biggest party, with 26 per cent of the vote, behind Rajoy’s Popular Party. The Socialist Party looks poised to fall into third place, with 21 per cent, and Ciudadanos is expected to hold its 14 per cent share. If the polls are accurate, the PSOE will face a difficult choice that highlights how far its stock has fallen. It can choose to enter as a junior partner into a coalition with the insurgent left, which has politically outmanoeuvred it. Or it could decide to prop up a Partido Popular-led right-wing coalition, serving as a constraint on power. 

This article first appeared in the 23 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Divided Britain