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August 30, 2006
Past imperfect
As expected, Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi visited the controversial Yasukuni war shrine this month. It was Koizumi's sixth visit to the shrine and most likely his last, as he is due to step down as prime minister in September. But it was also his first ever visit on August 15, the anniversary of Japan's surrender in the Pacific War. As such, it represented a particularly brazen act of symbolism.
The resulting protests from Japan's regional neighbors, however, differed little in tone or content from the condemnations of Koizumi's earlier visits. "Koizumi's shrine visits a 'poison' for Sino-Japanese relations," said a headline on the website of China's state-run Xinhua; "South Korea denounces Koizumi's shrine visit" said one in The Korea Times of South Korea; North Korea's KCNA news agency stated bluntly that the visit "clearly prove[s] that Japan is a cancer-like entity in preserving regional peace as it is seized by such revanchism and fever to revive militarism." The reason for this is as perverse as it is straightforward: However much they may heighten regional tensions--in fact, because they heighten regional tensions--Koizumi's repeated visits to Yasukuni actually serve the interests of every power in East Asia.
The Yasukuni Shrine was created by the Emperor Meiji in 1869 to honor Japan's war dead. Among those currently comemorated at Yasukuni are 14 convicted war criminals that were executed or imprisoned following the Pacific War. China, Korea, and other countries that were occupied by Japan during the war accordingly interpret Koizumi's visits as tacit yet official approval of Japan's actions during that period. Indeed, Yasukuni is emblematic of Japan's much larger problem of reconciling its collective memory of the Pacific War with its actual behavior. The shrine is not responsible for Japan's difficulties in grappling with its own history (and such difficulties would still torment the country in the shrine's absence), but Yasukuni provides a physical manifestation of the problem. It serves as a rallying point for the vocal nationalist minority that reveres fantastical conceptions of Japan's militarist glory. This right-wing sentiment provides the necessary context for Koizumi's visits and provokes resentment--across the region--to all things Japan. And the regional fury, in turn, fuels the harsher side of Japanese nationalism: The cycle perpetuates itself.
This mutually reinforcing suspicion spurs distrust between Japan and its neighbors. Strangely, however, it also serves each country's interests. China, where anti-Japanese sentiment is naturally abundant, is the clearest example. Official displays of outrage help legitimize the ruling Communist Party, whose legacy rests on its resistance to Japanese invaders in the 1930s and 1940s. But other countries follow a similar pattern. Hatred of Japan is one of the few things that unite North and South Korea in mutual nationalist fury. Both countries resent Japan's claim on the Dokdo Islands--or the Takeshima Islands, to the Japanese. Japan annexed the islands--along with the rest of Korea--in the early twentieth century, but it refused to relinquish its claim on them after it was expelled from Korea after the Pacific War. South Korean President Roh Moo-hyun has indicated that he will not hold a summit with any Japanese prime minister that visits Yasukuni. Singapore, like much of the rest of East Asia, was also occupied by Japan during the Pacific War. In the wake of Koizumi's latest visit to Yasukuni, its foreign ministry released a statement noting that the visits "are not helpful to the larger common interest of building closer relations and cooperation in East Asia, including Southeast Asia."
Righteous indignation obviates the need for these countries to craft a meaningful policy toward Japan. Chinese Foreign Minister Li Zhaoxing is fond of demanding "concrete actions" from Japan in the spirit of "taking history as a mirror and looking forward to the future." He has been less forthcoming, however, in describing exactly what that means. And why should he? Authoritarian governments are always interested maintaining their power above all else, and a great way to do that is to rant demagogically about some perceived enemy. For China especially, Japan represents the perfect foe, with a long history of mutual enmity and distrust between the two countries that began long before the Pacific War.
But China's instinctive aggravation with Yasukuni serves more than just a domestic political purpose. It's also a simple way to cripple regional diplomacy. For all the talk of China's "rise" and Japan's "graying," the two countries are indisputably the most important powers in East Asia--and, although it is neither as safe nor productive as cooperation, China prefers competition. Whenever Koizumi visits Yasukuni, China reverts to a predictable litany of complaints grounded in a war it fought (and won) decades ago. Most unproductively--and with uncanny predictability--it uses the visits as excuses to cancel diplomatic summits and other bilateral exchanges. Since Koizumi first visited Yasukuni in 2001, the leaders of China and Japan have not held a formal summit meeting, and China has refused to endorse such a meeting for as long as the visits to Yasukuni continue.
Still, Japan has every reason to absorb the moral condemnation from across East Asia. Koizumi, for his part, also uses his Yasukuni visits to advance his own foreign policy agenda in his own country. Since taking office, he has attempted to nudge Japan into becoming a fuller and more responsible member of the international community. Koizumi has advocated revisions to Japan's constitution that would allow the Self-Defense Forces to engage in a wider variety of peacekeeping operations, and he has strongly pushed for a permanent Japanese seat on the U.N. Security Council, in the face of China's consistent and instinctive opposition.
Koizumi's visits to Yasukuni are, in part, attempts to bolster domestic support for this comparatively muscular vision. They stir domestic debate about Japan's global role and focus attention on his foreign policy vision. (They also give a voice to Japan's angry nationalist minority, making Koizumi's own foreign policy goals seem moderate in comparison.) In essence, Koizumi's visits shift the debate about Japan's international role rightward, positioning his own vision as the increasingly reasonable option.
Of course, none of this is very healthy for Japan or its neighbors. Given his country's difficulty in grappling with its own history, Koizumi's game is cynical and irresponsible, and it stokes long-divisive sentiments in Japanese society. Koizumi adds insult to injury by seeming to revel in the controversy his Yasukuni visits generate. He recently told reporters that he "still [doesn't] understand why China and South Korea criticize my visits to Yasukuni." Meanwhile, with a dollop of creativity and initiative, China could use Koizumi's visits as prompts to address the bilateral issues that are relevant today, such as its lingering territorial disputes with Japan or drilling rights in the East China Sea. But, as long as its leaders can get away with attacking Japan for 60-year-old sins, they have no need to find creative solutions for tough bilateral problems.
As long as Japan grants even a hint of official recognition to the war criminals commemorated at the shrine, it will be impossible for the Japanese to come to grips with what their country did in the Pacific War. And, as long as Japan's neighbors fixate on Yasukuni as a means to prevent Japan from taking on a larger, more responsible role in international affairs, regional politics will stagnate. Of course, even though this month's visit to Yasukuni was Koizumi's last as prime minister, his successors will likely continue the practice anyway. Shinzo Abe, currently Koizumi's chief cabinet secretary and the frontrunner to replace him as prime minister, has already visited Yasukuni himself and has gone on record in asserting his right to do so. (A recent poll by Nihon Keizai Shimbun showed that, while 39 percent of Japanese would oppose visits to Yasukuni by future prime ministers, 43 percent would support them.) This means that the powers of East Asia will continue to blindly fight yesterday's war. And they will enjoy every minute of it.
The New Republic, 30 August 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:20 AM to Asia
August 25, 2006
Limited powers
Although the culmination of this election year will not arrive until November, political battles are already being won and lost. In Connecticut, challenger Ned Lamont defeated incumbent Joseph Lieberman in the Democratic primary for U.S. Senate. Many suspect that Lieberman's steadfast support for President Bush's Iraq policy was responsible for his defeat, and it is certainly true that the persistent violence and instability in that country has fed domestic discontent with the war for some time. But Lamont's primary victory suggests that such discontent has moved beyond the editorial pages; it may have reached a critical mass where it could actually affect electoral politics. If that discontent really does reshape Congress in November, however, the legislature may not be able to do much to affect U.S. policy in Iraq.
The Constitution explicitly gives Congress the power to declare wars and to raise and support the armed forces. It also makes the president the "commander in chief" of those same armed forces. This tension between the executive and the legislative branches over the country's war making powers is long and storied. Through much of U.S. history, a very rough rule applied: major military conflicts between the United States and another state were marked by a war declaration from Congress, while smaller military engagements could be managed by the executive without a formal war declaration. There have been only five declared wars in U.S. history. The number of overseas U.S. military engagements, however, far exceeds that number.
In the past 60 years, formal war declarations by Congress have fallen out of favor as the speed of international politics and military strategy have advanced. The Vietnam War represented for many a prime example of how the war powers had shifted too far in favor of the executive. In response, Congress adopted the War Powers Resolution in 1973. Passed over President Nixon's veto, the Resolution mandated that the president consult with Congress prior to the start of any military action and formally notify Congress that such action has commenced within 48 hours of it having done so. If Congress does not declare war or otherwise authorize the use of force within 60 days, the President would be obligated to remove U.S. forces from the hostilities.
On the surface, the Resolution seems to give great leeway to the executive to engage in military actions. But by formally codifying what previously had been an informal custom, the Resolution actually serves to constrain the executive. Accordingly, each president since Nixon has challenged the Resolution's constitutionality, although the courts have never ruled definitively on the matter. Yet despite this habitual opposition from the executive, each president has abided by the Resolution's requirements in every major military engagement since the 1970s.
The 2003 invasion of Iraq was no exception. In October 2002, Congress passed the Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Iraq Resolution (AUMF), which granted President Bush the authority to use military force to "defend the national security of the United States against the continuing threat posed by Iraq." It cited a laundry list of offenses as part of this "continuing threat," including Iraq's efforts to thwart UN weapons inspectors, its repression of its citizens, and its supposed links to terrorists associated with the 9/11 attacks. The AUMF also specifically declared that its passage fulfilled the authorization requirements of the War Powers Resolution. Such authorization from Congress was more valuable to the administration than any similar statement from the United Nations, and so with its passage, its most significant hurdle to military action against Iraq had been cleared.
As subsequent events have proven, however, the assumptions made in the October 2002 AUMF were flawed. Iraq was not in possession of any weapons of mass destruction, and its links to al Qaeda under Saddam Hussein were circumstantial at best. Accordingly, U.S. forces in Iraq have found their mission evolve as their occupation continues. First their mission was to depose Saddam Hussein; then it was to prepare for a return to power by Iraqi exile groups; then it was to rebuild the country and establish democratic institutions; then it was to suppress various indigenous and foreign-led insurgencies. In recent months, many have suggested that U.S. forces in Iraq are now attempting to ward off a Sunni-Shia civil war. A close reading of the original AUMF will find scant mention of any such mission.
This, at least, is the sense of some members of Congress. A recent hearing by the Senate Armed Services Committee elicited some revealing responses from members of the military leadership. General Peter Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, noted that the recent violence in Iraq could possibly "[devolve] to a civil war." When asked by Senator John McCain (R-AZ) whether he anticipated this situation one year ago, Pace paused for several seconds before somberly replying "no, sir." In response to this gloomy assessment by Pace and concurring testimony from General John Abizaid and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, Senator John Warner (R-VA) suggested a new course of action by Congress: "I think we have to examine very carefully what Congress authorized the president to do in the context of the situation if we are faced with an all-out civil war. And whether [we] have to come back to Congress to get further indication of support."
Although this is a remarkable suggestion, there are any number of reasons why a new authorization measure will not be debated in Congress. It would give the president's political opponents an ideal stage upon which to attack his Iraq policy; one can be certain that he accordingly will use his influence to prevent any resolution from being introduced. Any public debate on the mission of U.S. military forces could easily be construed as "not supporting the troops" and have damaging political effects on whomever that accusation were leveled. And politics aside, the executive--including the military leadership at the Pentagon--is the "commander in chief" of the armed forces. If Congress passed a resolution calling for the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq, the president would be on firm political ground to interpret that request loosely, based on the demands of military expedience as well as on the "facts on the ground."
Even if popular discontent with the president's Iraq policy results in a major electoral shift in November, Congress' ability to force a change in that policy may be limited. It could apply its "power of the purse" and threaten to withhold funding to support operations in Iraq. But senators and congressmen have tried this tactic before, to little effect. And so far, both Congress and the president have abided by the requirements of the War Powers Resolution.
The most likely effect of an electoral shift on Iraq policy would be one of perception. If Democrats secure a majority in one or both houses of Congress, they will gain leadership of congressional committees and the subpoena power that comes with it. They could hold hearings and conduct investigations that would draw even greater attention to the pitfalls of current Iraq policy. That, in turn, could further focus public opinion, which ultimately is the most important determinant for any kind of policy adjustment. The legislature can focus and reflect public opinion, but only the executive can truly change military policy. And for that, the country may have to wait two more years.
Foreign Policy Association, 24 August 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:26 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics
