June 26, 2008
Occupation justification
The war in Iraq is clearly one of the most important foreign policy issues in this year's presidential campaign. Arguably, it was the issue that single-handedly shaped the parties' nomination battles. The success of Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) rested in large part on his early (and then-unpopular) opposition to the Iraq invasion. Senator John McCain (R-IL) supported the invasion, but he staked his candidacy on his steady criticism of occupation policy and his steadfast (and politically risky) support for the 2007 troop surge. In the general election, the two candidates remain defined by their views on Iraq. As the presidential campaign unfolds, however, the situation in Iraq evolves as well, placing pressure on policy positions the candidates have barely changed over the past 18 months. But even as the candidates struggle to adapt to changing real-world conditions, their policy records will continue to define them.
Although Iraq has hardly become a stable or peaceful place, the good news in recent months is heartening. The rate of U.S. casualties has declined, the influence of foreign fighters and Sunni extremists has decreased, and the central government has had success in asserting its authority against Shiite militias in several parts of the country. These successes cannot be attributed to any single action or policy. The so-called “Sunni awakening,” in which Sunni tribal leaders have turned against the al Qaeda-inspired elements in their midst and allied with U.S. forces, has yielded positive results. The 2007 troop surge in Baghdad may partially account for the greater coherence and authority of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki's central government. Although military and civilian casualties continue to mount, they are climbing at a slower rate than in recent years. Unquestionably, this is all very good.
As the situation in Iraq has evolved, however, the public positions of Obama and McCain have remained relatively static, especially since the primary campaign began in early 2007. Obama has called for a phased withdrawal of all U.S. combat forces from Iraq over a 16-month period, at a rate of one or two brigades per month. He would allow for residual forces to remain in Iraq and the region to protect the U.S. embassy, to fight al Qaeda elements, and—if Iraq makes political progress—to continue training Iraqi security forces. He renounces any claim to permanent U.S. bases in Iraq. McCain, for his part, is a strong advocate of continuing the current strategy as implemented by General David Petraeus. His objective is a stable, prosperous, democratic, and peaceful Iraq that poses no threat to its neighbors. He is opposed to any significant troop withdrawals until that objective is achieved.
But before they launched their campaigns, each senator approached the situation in Iraq differently. Obama opposed the initial invasion itself. But after Saddam Hussein had been deposed, he did not immediately call for a withdrawal of U.S. troops. As late as 2005, he stated that, “U.S. forces are still a part of the solution in Iraq.” He explicitly favored a reduction of U.S. forces in Iraq (not a full withdrawal), and he opposed a specific timetable for any withdrawal. By 2007, shortly before he announced his presidential candidacy, he had settled on his present position. McCain supported the original invasion but became sharply critical of the Bush administration's handling of the occupation. Specifically, he said on several occasions that he had “no confidence' in then-Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and he consistently advocated for a larger troop presence in Iraq. Since the 2007 troop surge began—and the presidential campaign kicked off—McCain has largely supported the Bush administration's policy in Iraq, and he pledges to continue it.
None of this history should condemn either candidate. Indeed, it is good that policy makers adjust their positions as the real-world situation changes. Unfortunately, electoral politics places a premium on consistency, so until the election, neither Obama nor McCain are likely to radically alter the positions they adopted 18 months ago. But this doesn't mean that their records cannot (or should not) illuminate their potential policies as president, especially on the central question of how long U.S. troops should remain in Iraq.
At the end of this year, the UN resolution that formally permits U.S. troops to operate in Iraq will expire. The Bush administration is keen to provide a continuing legal framework for the U.S. occupation and has been actively negotiating two separate agreements with the Iraqi government. A Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) would codify the specific legal terms under which U.S. forces could operate in Iraq; the United States already has negotiated dozens of SOFAs with other countries that house U.S. troops. A “strategic framework agreement” likely would cover broader (and more contentious) issues such as the political, military, and economic relationship between the United States and Iraq and what functions U.S. troops could perform in Iraq. Reports have leaked that in negotiating these agreements, the Bush administration is seeking 58 permanent bases, control of Iraqi airspace, and immunity for troops and contractors.
Right now, neither Obama nor McCain would offer an absolute answer to the question, “how long will the United States stay in Iraq?” Obama would say that he would withdraw all combat troops in less than two years and he would disavow permanent bases, but he would remain vague about the size, location, and duration of the residual force he proposes. McCain is even more explicit in de-emphasizing the question. Earlier this year, he famously commented that he would not object to U.S forces remaining in Iraq for 100 years, and when questioned on that point in a recent interview, he noted that it is “not too important” when U.S. forces leave Iraq. The important thing, he said, was whether U.S. forces were suffering casualties. McCain highlighted the presence of U.S. troops in Japan, Korea, and Germany as examples of what he would consider acceptable analogues for Iraq.
Despite their respective ambiguity (or perhaps because of it), the policy records of Obama and McCain are particularly helpful in figuring out how they now interpret the role of U.S. forces in Iraq. In McCain's example, U.S. troops did not face insurgencies in Japan, Korea, or Germany like they do today in Iraq; by the time those occupations had begun in earnest, the wars that preceded them had largely concluded. Within a short period of time, each country had gained a stable and secure sovereign government. But even after the fighting had ended and stable governments had been formed, the fifty-year U.S. presence in those countries had a very specific purpose: to deter Communist aggression in the context of the Cold War. McCain's parallel, then, poses a very important question. Once the violence in Iraq is quelled, its government is stable, and U.S. troops are no longer taking casualties, what would be the objective of the remaining U.S. forces? Who would they be deterring, and in what context?
The answer to this question lies in the original rationale for the invasion itself, in the debate that raged in 2002 and early 2003. Supporters of the invasion used a variety of reasons to support their argument: Saddam Hussein was a tyrant and had to be toppled; he possessed weapons of mass destruction that presented a threat to others; he was allied with al Qaeda; a new, Arab democracy would be a beacon of change in the turbulent Middle East. None of these reasons, on their own, seemed to justify an invasion, and the Bush administration used them interchangeably.
Since then, many of the justifications for invasion have proven to be exaggerated or outright inaccurate. But one justification, alluded to in comments by policymakers since the invasion, was downplayed at the time: the geostrategic motivation. Iraq is in a very important corner of the globe, located near some of the United States' most valuable allies and some of its most distrusted adversaries. It also has a lot of oil. In other words, Iraq was a good place for the United States to plant its flag in the real-world game of Risk.
Sensible people may disagree about whether this geostrategic rationale was sufficient to justify the invasion of Iraq. But as it applies to the presidential candidacies of Obama and McCain, there is a clear difference. Obama opposed the introduction of U.S. forces into Iraq at the outset and has consistently renounced permanent bases there; nothing in his subsequent ambiguity about the specifics of occupation policy changes that. McCain supported the original invasion and is unabashed in his support for a continued U.S. presence in Iraq. Indeed, his “100 years” comment may be the most honest acknowledgment yet of the geostrategic rationale for invasion. In an electoral sense, this is a great thing. Beneath the candidates' superficial ambiguity, their positions are starkly different. In this election, on Iraq, the choice for voters is a real one.
Foreign Policy Association, 26 June 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:22 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
May 22, 2008
Appeasement politics
Now that the Democratic nomination is all but settled, Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) is transitioning from the primary campaign to the general election. His Republican opponent, Senator John McCain (R-AZ), has been waiting for him there. But in recent days, the man they each hope to succeed has inserted himself into the emerging general election. By implicitly attacking Obama's approach to foreign policy during a speech before Israel's Knesset, President Bush prematurely initiated a debate among the presidential candidates on the role of diplomacy in dealing with U.S. adversaries. As with many other supposed fault-lines in this political season, the differences between Obama and McCain on foreign policy are real. But they are not the differences that they might appear to be.
Bush addressed the Knesset, Israel's parliament, on the occasion of that country's sixtieth anniversary. Apart from his requisite statements of solidarity and praise, Bush's implicit comments on the presidential race earned the most attention: “Some seem to believe that we should negotiate with the terrorists and radicals, as if some ingenious argument will persuade them they have been wrong all along … [w]e have an obligation to call this what it is—the false comfort of appeasement, which has been repeatedly discredited by history.” Although he didn't mention him by name, it was widely assumed that the president was referring to Obama's professed willingness to conduct direct diplomacy with the leaders of unfriendly countries, specifically with President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran (for more, see The Water’s Edge, August 2007). He further implied that Obama would be willing to negotiate with groups like Hamas and Hezbollah. Bush's comments were all the more notable because they violated the time-honored aphorism that U.S. domestic politics should stop “at the water's edge.”
The president's comments generated an understandable stir. “George Bush knows that I have never supported engagement with terrorists,” Obama said. “The president's extraordinary politicization of foreign policy and the politics of fear do nothing to secure the American people or our stalwart ally Israel.” Obama also used the occasion to reiterate his opposition to Bush's 2003 invasion of Iraq, which he said had actually strengthened Iranian influence in the region. McCain responded with similar vigor. Although he did not repeat Bush's charge of “appeasement,” he did advance the attack on Obama, suggesting that it was “reckless to suggest that unconditional meetings [with U.S. adversaries] will advance our interests.”
Politically, both campaigns seemed to welcome this fight. Obama enjoyed the attention he received as his party's presumptive nominee, and he was glad to link McCain with Bush's unpopular presidency. McCain has always believed one of his greatest strengths was on national security and foreign policy, and he welcomed the chance to debate Obama on ground that he found favorable. But the spat also engendered a fair amount of hyperbole. For all of the talk of the sacredness of the “water's edge” rule, it has always been selectively applied. It is impossible to completely separate domestic politics from foreign policy, especially given the nature of modern communications technologies and media practices. It certainly might have been in poor taste for Bush to make his comments where he did (in the parliament of a uniquely consequential U.S. ally) and when he did (on the anniversary of that ally's still-controversial creation). But it is likely that Obama was more pleased to exploit the political opening that Bush presented him than he was personally offended at the president's comments.
Bush's comments, and the debate they initiated, were full of hyperbole and misunderstanding on policy grounds, as well. The charge of “appeasement” has been a favorite political attack since World War II, most frequently used by conservatives but also by many politicians trying to justify aggressive (often military) action. It is rooted in the Munich Agreement of 1938, when British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain allowed Adolf Hitler to annex portions of Czechoslovakia in exchange for pledging to refrain from further aggression—a pledge that was quickly broken. Although based upon this historical episode, the political charge of “appeasement” has since evolved. It is now routinely applied to anyone who would rather negotiate with an adversary than confront them head-on. That the charge is rooted in the aggression of Adolf Hitler, the paragon of twentieth century evil, is also very convenient. Comparing any potential adversary to Hitler is a useful and graphic way to convince skeptics of the gravity of the threat at hand.
But as is often the case, political rhetoric has corroded the historical record. “Appeasement” is to “placate someone by acceding to their demands.” Chamberlain certainly did that in 1938. But it is a rare politician who today openly advocates acceding to the demands of their country's adversaries, and surely it is the rare adversary that matches the danger presented by Hitler in the late 1930s. Today, “appeasement” has become conflated with “negotiation,” when in fact the two are completely different things. In some cases, this may be due to deliberate obfuscation of the facts; in others, it may be due to historical ignorance.
In either event, the charge of “appeasement” is a particularly useless one. No matter how aggressive or nationalistic a country's leader may be, it is practically impossible to exist in the international system without relying to some degree on negotiation. President Bush certainly knows this and has regularly negotiated with U.S. adversaries, such as Libya and North Korea. Senator McCain, who in certain cases may be more open to diplomacy and negotiation than President Bush, surely knows this as well. On the other hand, Obama himself has been at pains to emphasize that he would not negotiate directly with non-state actors such as Hamas and Hezbollah; he certainly has not indicated that he would “appease” anybody.
Political hyperbole aside, real differences do exist between Obama and McCain on foreign policy. The differences, however, may rest more in their respective means than in their ends. In the case of Iran, for example, Obama and McCain would want many of the same things. They each would want that country to stop pursuing nuclear weapons technology, to withdraw its support for Hezbollah and recognize the state of Israel, and to play a more productive role in Iraq. Neither candidate, through their records or their rhetoric, has placed themselves too far outside of the existing, bipartisan, foreign policy mainstream—Obama would be unlikely to rely on face-to-face negotiation alone, and McCain would be unlikely (not to mention unable) to deal with Iran in a purely military fashion. And in a political season, neither candidate's campaign pronouncements should be read too literally as final policy statements.
The real differences between Obama and McCain on foreign policy largely concern public perceptions, including those explicitly promoted by the candidates themselves and those implicitly assigned by voters and foreign actors alike. Obama pitches himself as an agent of change and as a keen internationalist, both in terms of personal identity and political inclination. He is more likely to pursue different and more creative approaches to solving international problems than have been the norm under President Bush. His opposition to the invasion of Iraq—and his support for a greater investment of resources into the conflict in Afghanistan—indicates how a President Obama may apply military force. McCain, for his part, identifies as a war hero and a staunch advocate of not just U.S. power, but in many cases of U.S. primacy. There is reason to suspect that a President McCain would engage in a more assertive and unilateral foreign policy than Obama, though perhaps not to as great an extent as President Bush. His aggressive rhetoric on the threat posed by “radical Islamic extremism” hints at the way McCain thinks about matters of national security.
In a presidential campaign, many issues are vulnerable to hyperbole and distortion. Removed from the day-to-day concerns of many voters, foreign policy is particularly susceptible to such obfuscation. In many cases, a candidate's own words can fail to provide a clear picture of his or her foreign policy priorities. This is why it's often difficult to divine a candidate's specific policy on individual issue areas. But by looking at the breadth of their rhetoric and the depth of their records, voters can construct broad impressions of how each candidate thinks about foreign policy. Until then, it's safe to assume that no politician supports a policy of “appeasement,” regardless of what their opponents may say.
Foreign Policy Association, 22 May 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:49 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
April 30, 2008
Bedside manner
Despite appearances to the contrary, the recent vitriol between Sens. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama masks some genuine differences between the Democratic candidates.
One particularly important difference involves health care. The difference, however, is not so much one of policy. It is really a distinction of process.
On substantive grounds, their health plans are very similar. Both would maintain the employer-based system of private insurance while introducing a public insurance option for consumers. Both would place significant new regulations on private insurers, forbidding them from denying coverage or charging higher rates to those with "pre-existing conditions."
But there is one major distinction: Clinton's plan includes a governmental mandate that every individual has health coverage, and Obama's doesn't.
Clinton argues that without a mandate, healthy people will not buy insurance and will seek health care only when they get sick. This could raise costs for everyone else and threaten the viability of any reformed health care system. Obama argues that the problem is not that people don't want health coverage; it's that they cannot afford it.
Much of the rhetoric between the candidates has muddled the issue: Is the ultimate goal of health reform an individual mandate or expanded coverage? One is an intermediate step; the other is the policy objective itself. Indeed, Obama is not opposed to the concept of mandates; his plan includes one for children, and he has repeatedly said he would consider one for adults if needed. Mandates aren't the issue - universal coverage is.
Or is it? Some have suggested that Obama's plan would leave more people uninsured than Clinton's. As a result, Obama no longer describes his plan as "universal." Clinton, however, still does. This only adds to the confusion. "Mandating" is not "providing" - just because the government requires something does not make it so.
The only truly "universal" system would be a single-payer model, in which the government automatically insures everyone. Neither candidate currently advocates such a system, or anything else that is really "universal." Rightly or wrongly, both Clinton and Obama are champions of the "near-universal."
But assume that mandates really are indispensable. In a health system still dependent on private insurers (as both Clinton and Obama propose), the clearest beneficiaries of an individual mandate would be private insurers. The mandate represents a bargain: The government gets tighter regulation of the insurance industry, and private insurers receive millions of guaranteed new customers in return. Clinton's plan, with its explicit mandate, concedes this deal up front. Obama's plan, without a mandate, does not. He simply starts from a stronger negotiating position than Clinton.
The health care debate actually highlights a far more important distinction between Clinton and Obama, one that goes beyond differences in their policy objectives to whether either candidate could actually achieve them as president.
Throughout their careers, Clinton and Obama have earned and deliberately nurtured distinct political personas. Clinton is the policy wonk and political street fighter, a tough survivor who seems to enjoy the fight as much as the outcome. She spearheaded the failed attempt to reform health care in 1993-94 - an effort stymied by secrecy, complexity and an unwillingness to consider outside ideas.
Obama is the community organizer - more results-oriented than ideological, more likely to see potential allies than certain enemies, and equipped with a keen sense of power relationships and negotiating strategy. His political career has been marked by pragmatism and a commitment to make government more transparent and accountable.
Essentially, Clinton's persona is divisive, while Obama's is inclusive. This has been reflected on the campaign trail, where Clinton has relied upon a core of Democratic partisans and Obama has depended on a broader base of people new to politics. These coalitions will affect the performance of either candidate in the general election. But they also will determine each candidate's effectiveness as president, where good governance is nothing without principled, successful coalition building.
Indeed, the greatest difference between Clinton and Obama is not over policy, but over process. Clinton and Obama may share similar policy destinations, but they would take very different paths to get there.
Despite the heated campaigning of recent weeks, no one should doubt the core principles of either Clinton or Obama. Both candidates have demonstrated their commitment to meaningful health care reform. The question is who is more likely to produce results, on health care and other issues. On that basis alone, the distinction is clear.
San Francisco Chronicle, 30 April 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 12:17 AM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
April 24, 2008
Special interests
By now, the Democratic primary has stretched on longer than almost anyone could have predicted. Senators Hilary Clinton (D-NY) and Barack Obama (D-IL) are each well-funded and broadly supported candidates. But as the race has dragged on, the sparring between Clinton and Obama—and between the Democrats and the Republican nominee, Senator John McCain (R-AZ)—has gotten more bitter, and the attacks more pointed. This is particularly true with the amorphous issue of “reform;” each candidate believes that they would be the most effective agent of change. In the presidential race, this issue is of particular importance in terms of foreign policy. But at this late stage of the campaign, the issue of reform is being treated more as a rhetorical football than as a serious issue.
In every election, candidates vie for the mantle of “reformer” or otherwise market themselves as change agents. This year, however, the issue has taken on a new level of prominence. In his slogans, speeches, and advertisements, Obama explicitly frames his candidacy in terms of “change.” Instead of downplaying his relatively brief time in Washington DC, Obama trumpets it as evidence of his outsider status: “I haven't spent a lot of time learning the ways of Washington. But I've been there long enough to know that the ways of Washington must change.” Both Obama and Clinton take advantage of the unpopular incumbency of a Republican administration. After eight years of President George Bush's particularly partisan style of governing, a simple change of parties alone would seem like a significant reform to many. Even the Republican nominee, John McCain, claims the mantle of reform. He has a record of bucking his own party and championing issues that would clean up the political process, such as campaign finance reform.
One of the more common ways the candidates have attempted to prove their reformist credentials is by trying to convince voters that they are more independent-minded than their competitors. On the Democratic side, both candidates believe it serves their electoral purposes to disassociate themselves from big businesses and other “special interests.” In a recent television advertisement in Pennsylvania, Obama claimed that he “didn't take money from oil companies.” Clinton immediately challenged this claim, noting that it has been illegal for corporations to contribute money directly to federal candidates since 1907. She also ran her own advertisements that highlighted the contributions Obama has received from individuals who work in the oil and gas industries.
Like an increasing number of disputes in the campaign, this particular episode was both relevant and superfluous, in ways that neither candidate had necessarily intended. It is certainly true that Obama has not taken money directly from oil companies; it is also true that no candidate has directly taken any money from any company, of any kind, for over 100 years. But corporations, like candidates, have long since adapted to this reality. For decades, they have been able to form political action committees (PACs) to promote their interests or those of their wider industries. PACs face specific limits on how (and from whom) they can raise money, and on how they may then use it to support their preferred political cause. But they are a common vehicle for corporations, unions, and other like-minded communities to channel financial support to a political candidate.
Obama often notes that his campaign does not accept contributions from lobbyists or from federally registered PACs (although he has received support from state-based PACs in previous campaigns). Clinton, on the other hand, does accept contributions from these sources. This political reality, however, is not easily boiled down to a 30 second television commercial or reduced to a pithy sound bite. When Obama claims not to have taken money from oil companies, he is technically correct. When Clinton criticizes him for making a meaningless assertion, she too is technically correct. And when Obama rebuts Clinton by noting that he, unlike her, takes no money from lobbyists or PACs, he is again technically correct. But by this point, the original distinction has been parsed and obscured to the point of irrelevance. The fact is that there is a legitimate distinction between Obama and Clinton on this particular issue. But the primary campaign has become so heated that legitimate distinctions are buried under the weight of rhetorical combat and political point scoring.
On the Republican side, John McCain faces something of a dilemma. He has a well-earned reputation as a political reformer. Along with Senator Russell Feingold (D-WI), McCain championed a major revision of campaign finance laws in 2002. He has taken positions at odds with many in his party, including his support for a cap-and-trade system to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, immigration reform, and his vocal opposition to torture. But as the nominee of the incumbent party, McCain cannot easily maintain his image as a sincere agent of change. Indeed, his Democratic opponents are sure to paint a potential McCain win, fairly or not, as four more years of Bush.
McCain has found that the scrutiny of a presidential campaign makes it nearly impossible for him to remain a pure reformer. In 2007, when the prospects for his campaign looked dim, McCain entered the presidential public financing system. This decision made him eligible to receive federal matching funds, but it also obligated him to abide by strict spending limits. In 2008, as his campaign rebounded, McCain sent a letter to the Federal Elections Commission (FEC) to announce his withdrawal from the public financing program. But McCain has exceeded the $54 million spending limit mandated under the public financing system, and the FEC has not been able to resolve the matter due to vacancies on the commission. The question is not just whether McCain successfully withdrew from the public financing system before he broke the spending limits, but if he was even permitted to leave the system after entering it in the first place. The issue may ultimately prove to be a minor one. But no matter how it is resolved, the mere impression that McCain broke campaign finance laws could seriously damage his reputation as a political reformer.
The question of which candidate is the more genuine “reformer” is a vexing one. On one hand, it is quite trivial. Unlike health care or tax policy, the issue of “reform” is amorphous, unspecific, and somewhat arbitrary. It is a great vehicle for a candidate to exaggerate their own credentials and unfairly attack another's qualifications. But on the other hand, “reform” is extremely important. At its heart, it is an issue of process. A policy is only as good as the likelihood of its enactment. If a candidate is financially beholden to a specific group, their policies may reflect the interests only of that group, at the unfair expense of others. Likewise, if a candidate is seen as bending the political rules for their own personal benefit, it will be more difficult for them to achieve their desired policy objectives. Process-based questions such as these are particularly important in the realm of foreign policy and national security, where the president has great ability to act independent of Congress. In a situation where the president has such freedom of action, a transparent and trustworthy process is the best way (and in some cases, the only way) to ensure some modicum of accountability.
In the hypersensitive context of a competitive campaign, however, it is impossible for any candidate—regardless of their qualifications, records, or credentials—to maintain the image as a pure reformer. If voters understand that no candidate's record is spotless, than the pretense of purity can be dismissed. But if no candidate can realistically hope to live up to their own lofty projections as reformers, they can only be judged (imperfectly) on their campaign rhetoric. In this sense, there are distinctions among the candidates. Each one emphasizes their reforming credentials in different ways, and each one relies upon reform-based arguments to different degrees. If a candidate speaks more often about change or reform, they will be more easily held accountable to such language if they win office. It is an imperfect way to measure the candidates, but with the campaign rhetoric at such a fevered pitch, it may have to suffice for now.
Foreign Policy Association, 24 April 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 08:13 PM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
March 27, 2008
Five years
The fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq generated a good deal of reflection on the course of the war so far. Unsurprisingly, much of this commentary emanated from the presidential candidates. Each one underscored the distinctions on Iraq and on foreign policy that have been inherent throughout their respective campaigns. But more than simply rehashing their plans for how to deal with the ongoing war, the candidates also reminded voters—subtly or not—of their positions on the original invasion itself, five years ago. It is these archival positions, perhaps more so than the candidates' current and future plans for Iraq, that provide a meaningful glimpse into how each one would conduct foreign policy as president.
Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) delivered two major speeches on the Iraq war on the occasion of the anniversary. The first addressed the conflict from a military and foreign policy perspective, in which he suggested that ending the occupation would, “allow us to more effectively confront other threats in the world.” These lingering threats included violent extremism, nuclear proliferation, global poverty, climate change, and economic competitiveness. The second speech examined the opportunity costs of the Iraq war on domestic policy. Obama argued that the costs of the war could be better spent on health care, infrastructure, education, and other domestic priorities. His underlying points differed little from what he has argued throughout his campaign. Obama was the only candidate to oppose the invasion from the beginning, and although he would “end” the war by gradually withdrawing most U.S. troops from Iraq, he would allow some to remain to protect diplomats and for counter-terrorism operations.
Senator Hillary Clinton (D-NY) also delivered a speech to commemorate the anniversary of the invasion. In many ways, it was broadly similar to Obama's speeches. Clinton advocates a gradual withdrawal of most U.S. troops from Iraq, but like Obama, she would allow for some forces to remain for counter-terrorism and other missions. Unlike Obama, however, she supported the initial invasion, and she voted for the 2002 authorization to use military force against Iraq. Much of her argument was based on credibility: “I believe what matters in this campaign is not just the promises we've made to end the war; what matters is what we've actually done when it came time to match words with action.” Clinton also echoed themes her campaign had been promoting in recent weeks, asserting that she had gained valuable foreign policy experience during her husband's administration in Bosnia and in Northern Ireland and implying that only she could be trusted to handle early morning phone calls on national security emergencies.
Senator John McCain (R-AZ) found himself in a somewhat different position. He had already secured the Republican nomination for president, so while his potential Democratic rivals continued their intramural campaigning in the United States, he led a congressional delegation to the Middle East and Europe. The trip offered an opportunity for McCain to bolster his image as a trusted foreign policy hand. Although he did not deliver a formal speech commemorating the invasion anniversary, his visit to Baghdad highlighted the success of last year's troop surge, which McCain strongly supported. Indeed, although McCain supported the initial invasion of Iraq, he was very critical of the manner in which former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld managed the aftermath. McCain's foreign trip made its greatest headlines, however, when he mistakenly asserted that, “al-Qaeda is going back into Iran and receiving training and are coming back into Iraq from Iran.” In fact, it is Shiite extremists who have received support from Iran, not al Qaeda fighters.
Clearly, there are many differences between the ways the candidates approached the invasion anniversary. Among the Democrats, Obama wanted to amplify his differences with Clinton, specifically on the topic of his opposition to the initial invasion. Clinton, on the other hand, wanted to diminish these differences, pointing to the similarity of their Senate voting records since 2005. The problem with this construction, however, is that the “Iraq war” is not a static policy. In many ways, the original invasion and the subsequent occupation of Iraq are very different issues. Although Clinton is correct in noting that she and Obama have each voted to fund the war, this has no bearing on the fact that Obama opposed the invasion before it happened while Clinton supported it. Indeed, this is perhaps the most relevant issue, because the decision to invade Iraq was the one from which all of the subsequent tough choices and tragic losses sprang.
The candidates' positions on the initial invasion also raise a larger question of strategy. Essentially, it differentiates those who thought the war has simply been mismanaged from those who thought it was a fundamentally flawed concept from the start. Obama, Clinton, and McCain would all agree that the war was has been grossly mismanaged, at least at certain points over the last five years. But having supported the initial invasion, one might assume that Clinton and McCain believe in the strategy that was used to justify the war in the first place. Such a strategy, pioneered by the infamous “neoconservatives” in the Bush administration, amplifies the role of the military in deterring potential threats and promoting democratic reform abroad. It is a strategy that risks conflating state-based threats with non-state actors, and it shapes U.S. public diplomacy in an unyielding way.
The candidates' positions on the initial invasion might also speak to their underlying judgment and political courage. The congressional vote on the Iraq war resolution in October 2002 was deliberately stage-managed by war advocates within the Bush administration. It was held in an environment of lingering post-9/11 fear, immediately prior to a mid-term election. Polls at the time suggested that many people were generally supportive of military action against Iraq. In such an environment, and regardless of a senator or congressman's honest position, it was politically very difficult to oppose the war resolution. In retrospect, however, it may also have been very prescient.
Any differences among the Democrats pales in comparison to the differences between them and the Republicans. Although Obama and Clinton speak of the need to “end” the war, McCain is unabashed in his support for continuing it. Such support is indicative of his broader foreign policy thinking. Since he ran for president in 2000, McCain has been a strong advocate for an assertive and aggressive foreign policy. He has spoken of maintaining U.S. military supremacy around the world and of confronting threats before they become too dangerous. In this context, McCain's arguments for continuing the war in Iraq are actually quite valid. If U.S. troops were to withdraw from Iraq, the country could descend into a level of violence far greater than what it has already experienced. An unstable Iraq could serve as a base for al Qaeda or other terrorist groups, and the country could be highly susceptible to the influence of an assertive, hostile Iran. Indeed, many Democrats' calls for an immediate U.S. withdrawal from Iraq fail to adequately address these concerns.
But McCain's misstatement in Jordan, about the non-existent connection between al Qaeda and Iran, is eerily reminiscent of one of the greatest mistakes made by invasion advocates five years ago: the conflation of disparate and unique threats into single, undifferentiated menace. Al Qaeda and Iran are not allies, much like Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein were not allies. As a Defense Department review of over 600,000 Iraqi documents determined just this month, there was no “direct operational link” between Saddam Hussein's Iraq and al Qaeda. If McCain's foreign policy is premised on an aggressive assertion of U.S. power, a vital pre-condition for such a policy would be an accurate understanding about the threats facing the country and valid intelligence as to its whereabouts. It might be easy, and perhaps tempting, to dismiss McCain's misstatement as a simple, inadvertent slip of the tongue. But given his promise of an assertive foreign policy, McCain's misstatement could raise questions about what lessons he has learned about the events set into motion five years ago.
None of this is to suggest that similarities on Iraq do not exist among the presidential candidates. All of them acknowledge that troops will remain Iraq for some time, albeit in different numbers and for different reasons. For Democrats, in particular, this could come as an unpleasant shock. But it reflects the bureaucratic and geopolitical reality. Strategically, Iraq is simply a good place to plant the U.S. flag, and if the bases are already there, it will be exceedingly difficult for any politician—of any party—to fight the bureaucratic and political inertia of just staying put. This is yet another reminder of why the single, most important decision of the entire war was the one made five years ago: the original decision to invade Iraq. Fortunately, on that basis if on no others, there is a clear distinction among the candidates.
Foreign Policy Association, 27 March 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 06:07 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
February 28, 2008
All apologies
Earlier this month, Australia's parliament passed a resolution formally apologizing for one of the country's most egregious practices of institutionalized mistreatment of indigenous Australians. In issuing this apology, Australia is not alone. Apologies for past, state-sponsored misdeeds have become a burgeoning topic for many national legislatures, including the U.S. Congress. Although the direct impact of such apologies is often uncertain, they can have a clear effect on a country's foreign policy.
The apology introduced by Australia's new prime minister, Kevin Rudd, was unanimously approved by that country's parliament. Specifically, it recognized and apologized for the Australian government's formal role in the “Stolen Generations” The term applies to the government's forced removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families and placing them into state orphanages and other institutions. This state-sanctioned practice took place from the late 1800s until 1970, and it was designed to assimilate Aboriginal peoples into “white” Australian culture. Indeed, in a grotesquely paternalistic way, many viewed the practice as beneficial to those Aboriginal children removed from their families. Since the 1970s, as the government's role in creating the Stolen Generations has become more understood and less defensible, the momentum for a formal apology has grown. Rudd, fulfilling a campaign promise, issued the apology at the very opening of Australia's parliament: “We apologize especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country. For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.”
Many other countries face or have faced similar experiences of national shame that demand formal apologies. These experiences can be purely domestic, as in Australia's case. The United States formally apologized for its World War II detention of Japanese-Americans in 1988 and issued a similar apology for its nineteenth century overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1993. Without much fanfare, the Senate this month passed an Indian health care bill that contains an amendment apologizing to Native Americans for “official depredations, ill-conceived policies and the breaking of covenants.” Other situations demand apologies that cross international borders. Germany has issued many unambiguous apologies for its actions during World War II, and Japan has done the same, though in arguably more ambiguous terms.
There are several ways to evaluate these kinds of formal apologies. On the most immediate level, many are paired with direct, substantive action, such as reparation payments. Germany has paid billions of dollars to Holocaust survivors and the state of Israel since World War II. Other apologies may not include direct compensation for victims but create other structures or systems to provide tangible benefit to the aggrieved. Rudd ruled out reparations for members of the Stolen Generations in Australia, but his apology was matched by a pledge to create a “war cabinet” that would bridge partisan divides and work to address social and economic disparities between indigenous Australians and the rest of the country. He promised that the “war cabinet” would work to improve levels of education, health care, and housing for indigenous Australians within a five-year time frame.
The easiest apology, of course, is the one made with words alone. One reason the Senate's apology to Native Americans has not achieved greater attention is because it has been attached as an amendment to an otherwise routine bill. The United States has a long and disgraceful history of mistreatment of Native Americans, but because the apology neither appropriates new funds nor creates new programs, it can be issued as a legislative amendment with little fanfare. To be fair, these same characteristics make the apology much easier to offer in the first place. Even if an apology is paired with a change in policy, it can be perceived as insufficient. Although Rudd's apology to indigenous Australians was widely popular, there were some grumblings that his “war cabinet” was not enough. Aboriginal leader Aboriginal leader Patrick Dodson claimed that, “any group of people who have been treated badly under laws … deserve to pursue compensation judicially, legally, or politically, and they deserve our support.”
Less helpful are the apologies that appear ambiguous. Japan's first official “apology” for its actions during World War II came when it re-established diplomatic relations with China in 1972. In a Joint Communique with his Chinese counterpart, Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka asserted that, “the Japanese side is keenly conscious of the responsibility for the serious damage that Japan caused in the past to the Chinese people through war, and deeply reproaches itself.” Japanese Prime Ministers and governments since then have elaborated on this statement, but never in terms that were absolutely unequivocal. As a result, the culpability for Japan's actions during World War II remains uncertain for many people throughout East Asia—in China, Korea, and even in Japan itself. This historical ambiguity continues to sour regional relations to this day (for more, see The Water's Edge, October 2007).
The least helpful apologies are the ones that aren't made. For years, under former Prime Minister John Howard, Australia refused to apologize for the Stolen Generations. This was not only very unpopular among many Australians, but it created a very negative impression of the country abroad. The United States is burdened with the similar impression. No U.S. president or Congress has ever formally apologized for slavery in the United States. There are many arguments about what form an apology for slavery could take, if direct reparations to the descendants of slaves would be a part of such an apology, and how useful an apology itself would even be. But in an international environment in which many already see the United States as a unilateral, selfish, and reckless actor, a formal apology for slavery could send a message of humility that would be useful on a global stage. Acknowledgement and remorse for past misdeeds, even if state-sanctioned, is by no means a sign of present-day weakness. Indeed, such honesty and transparency can convey national confidence and strength
It is impossible to determine the precise value of these formal, state apologies for past misdeeds. They may simply be “feel-good” exercises with no present-day relevance. Or, alternatively, they could play a major role in reconciling divisions within a society and in improving perceptions of a country beyond its own borders. In Australia, Rudd has made clear that he views the recent apology not as the end of a tragic chapter in that country's history but as the beginning of a new, more hopeful one. As a symbolic statement alone, the apology will have lasting value. And in foreign policy, symbolism is often as valuable as substance. This is a lesson applicable to all countries, regardless of past misdeeds or contemporary apologies.
Foreign Policy Association, 28 February 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 12:30 PM to Asia, Australia/NZ, Europe, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
January 31, 2008
Mistaken identities
Identity politics has become a defining force in the race for the Democratic presidential nomination. From New Hampshire to Nevada to South Carolina, some uncomfortable questions have been raised: Do whites tell pollsters they support Sen. Barack Obama but privately change their vote based on his race? Do Latinos overtly oppose Obama for the same reason? Do women vote for Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton under the sympathetic impression that her male competitors and members of the media attack her too harshly? Although it’s difficult to conclusively settle any of these issues, it’s equally clear that identity politics will continue to vex domestic politics for years to come. But the impact of identity will be felt far beyond the pollsters, pundits, and prognosticators. The unique identity of the next president could have a significant effect on U.S. foreign policy.
To be sure, the issues surrounding identity are more symbolic than substantive. While important foreign policy differences do exist between Clinton and Obama, they are not based on her gender or on his race — each candidate’s broad policy objectives are similar, both in substance and in opposition to those likely to be held by the eventual Republican nominee. But somewhat uniquely among world powers, the U.S. president is both the head of state and the head of government. He (or she) represents not just the government in power at a given time, but also the United States as a sovereign state. Compared to the United Kingdom, for example, the U.S. president plays the roles of both queen and prime minister. In such a situation, symbolism and substance can overlap in myriad ways, and this can have a real policy impact.
Both Clinton and Obama would break powerful symbolic barriers, both would exemplify the better ideals of “American exceptionalism,” and both would send a positive message abroad. But for Obama, the effect would be somewhat different, and arguably more concrete. Obama’s unique identity is not based on race alone. His father was Kenyan (and he still has family there), he spent a significant portion of his childhood in Indonesia, and he was raised in multiethnic Hawaii. This allows Obama to plausibly stake a claim to a greater sense of empathy with non-Americans, their interests, and their perceptions of the United States. In other words, Obama’s unique identity is qualitatively and substantively distinct from (though not necessarily “better” than) Clinton’s unique identity. Based on identity alone, both Clinton and Obama would make a strong symbolic statement as president. But Obama’s identity might arguably carry greater symbolic weight abroad, and it could even be of important substantive value.
The true substantive value of a candidate’s unique identity, however, is difficult to measure—identity exists, by definition, independent of merit. For this reason alone, it is tempting to dismiss identity politics as provincial, illogical or downright counterproductive. But this is a limited interpretation. In a sense, identity politics is democracy boiled down to its basics. Beneath all of the slogans and rhetoric, the policy papers and resumes, the endorsements and campaign cash, only the candidate’s irreducible identity remains constant. Such identity is immediately recognizable and requires no filter or interpretation. Voters support the candidate who looks, sounds, or acts like them, in the expectation that their support will be repaid once the candidate wins.
If not outright bad, this kind of identity politics is certainly primordial in nature. Strict identity politics is the norm in many tenuous democracies around the world. Political parties are often based not on ideology or principle but on tribe or ethnic group. People vote for “their guy,” and national politics frequently devolves into a contemporary extension of age-old, identity-based power struggles. Political systems intended to mitigate the excesses of identity politics (such as proportional representation) or detangle the roles of head of state from head of government (such as parliamentary government) sometimes even make the problems worse.
In an odd coincidence of old and new, identity politics abroad recently intersected with its U.S. cousin. In elections in Kenya in December, international observers witnessed tens of thousands of ballots altered in favor of incumbent President Mwai Kibaki (a member of the Kikuyu tribe). Despite the clear irregularities, Kibaki had himself sworn in as president literally minutes after the polls closed. Supporters and co-tribalists of Kibaki’s main opponent, Raila Odinga (a member of the Luo tribe), rioted violently in protest of the rigged election, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Kikuyu. Amidst the post-election violence and uncertainty, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice asked Obama — then campaigning in Iowa — to tape a message of conciliation for the Kenyan people for broadcast on Voice of America. Obama’s Kenyan father was Luo, as are his remaining family members in that country. Evidently, many Luo joke that the United States will have a Luo president before Kenya does.
Thankfully, identity politics in the U.S. presidential campaign has not devolved to similar levels of tribalism and excess — yet. Although the United States does not possess the tribal complexities of Kenya, it does contain political “tribes” of its own. Clinton, of course, is the spouse of former President Bill Clinton. Although she was not born into her political “tribe,” she is an integral component of an immensely successful and highly organized political family, with all the loyalties, rivalries, and habits common to every tribe, ethnic or otherwise. If she wins the Democratic nomination and then the presidency, she will become the reigning member of a legitimate political dynasty.
In a country ever-conscious of identity, and in a presidential race steeped in its barrier-breaking potential, Clinton’s identity as a dynastic heir is just as unique and relevant as her identity as a women, or Obama’s as an African American. Indeed, identity is at once both permanent and malleable. Politicians always strive to create favorable identities in order to assemble winning coalitions of voters. But to a certain degree, they can never escape or reframe who they truly are. In the end, it is up to voters to make the final assessment.
San Francisco Chronicle, 1 February 2008
Foreign Policy Association, 24 January 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:15 PM to Africa, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
