July 24, 2008
Foreign process
Although the Iraq war has been a dominant foreign policy issue in the presidential election, it certainly is not the only conflict to demand the candidates' attention. The conflict in Afghanistan has gained increasing prominence in the campaigns of Republican John McCain and Democrat Barack Obama, who just paid his first visit to the country during his highly publicized overseas tour. This subtle shift of emphasis is due not only to increased levels of violence in Afghanistan, but also to the concurrent (and relative) decrease of violence in Iraq. U.S. policy in both countries is inextricably linked—it is impossible to sensibly discuss the policy for one war without considering the other. At the same time, the politics of the Afghanistan war are unique. They demonstrate that the right policy alone may not be enough to achieve the desired objectives.
The war in Afghanistan has always held a unique place in U.S. politics, especially compared to its more prominent counterpart in Iraq. It was, and is, the conflict most directly tied to the attacks of 9/11; the country had served as host to the al Qaeda leaders who planned the attacks and functioned as a training ground for the attackers themselves. In the days following 9/11, Congress overwhelmingly passed (with only a single dissenting vote in the House) the Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Terrorists, under which the war in Afghanistan has been waged. The initial invasion was very successful. The Bush administration assembled a broad international coalition, the ruling Taliban regime in Afghanistan was quickly overthrown, and a pluralistic political process was set in motion.
Since 2002, the war in Afghanistan has been somewhat overshadowed by the threat, real or perceived, from Iraq and the ensuing invasion and occupation of that country. But as the Iraq war maintained its grip on the headlines over the years, the conflict in Afghanistan remained persistently unresolved. Bin Laden not only remained free, but he and his lieutenants released communiques on a semi-regular basis. Remnants of al Qaeda's infrastructure seemed to have relocated and re-established themselves in Pakistan, just across the border from Afghanistan. The Taliban did not disintegrate, and in fact seemed to grow in size and capabilities over the years. In recent months, the level of violence in Afghanistan has increased notably. In May, coalition casualties in Afghanistan exceeded those in Iraq for the first time—a pattern that was repeated the next month. Since then, the Taliban has carried out a spate of spectacular attacks, including an assault on a Kandahar jail that freed hundreds of prisoners, a suicide bombing outside of the Indian embassy in Kabul that killed dozens, and a direct attack on a U.S. base in Kunar Province that killed nine soldiers.
As things have appeared to get worse in Afghanistan, the situation in Iraq has seemed to improve; hence the subtle shift of emphasis in the presidential campaign. Among all of the candidates, Obama has been uniquely positioned to frame the debate. Since the beginning of the nomination contests, he has been the only major candidate of either party who both supported the invasion of Afghanistan and opposed the initial invasion of Iraq. He made a point of this in the 2002 speech in which he announced his opposition to the forthcoming invasion of Iraq, specifically saying that he didn't oppose all wars, just “dumb wars.” Given the geopolitical realities at the time (al Qaeda had not been conclusively defeated in Afghanistan) and the facts that have since been confirmed (Iraq had neither weapons of mass destruction nor a meaningful relationship with al Qaeda or 9/11), it is remarkable that Obama was the only major candidate who could claim such an auspicious record.
In the campaign, Obama has taken advantage of his record and used it as evidence of superior judgment. His current position on Afghanistan is a natural evolution. He views the war in Iraq as a distraction from the continuing threat posed by al Qaeda. By withdrawing the majority of U.S. forces from that country, he would gain the flexibility to send at least two additional combat brigades Afghanistan. He proposes an extra $1 billion in non-military aid to Afghanistan, with an emphasis on rural development, drug eradication, and anti-corruption initiatives. He has also reiterated his commitment to both increase non-military aid to Pakistan and to strike at al Qaeda targets in that country, if Pakistan is unable or unwilling to do so itself (for more, see The Water’s Edge, November 2007).
McCain, for his part, has focused more on Iraq than on Afghanistan. Although he supported the invasion of Iraq, he shares with Obama a point of distinction on that conflict. He was a critic of former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and was a vocal champion of the 2007 troop surge, which is partly responsible for the decreasing levels of violence in Iraq. McCain used these points to distinguish himself during the Republican primary, and he continues to emphasize them as evidence of his foreign policy acumen. Moving forward, McCain speaks often of the need to secure a “victory” in Iraq, and he dismisses any suggestion of significant troop withdrawals or timetables for departure (for more, see The Water’s Edge, June 2008).
All of this has a direct bearing on McCain's policy toward Afghanistan, which until recently was poorly defined. In a recent foreign policy address, McCain called for sending three additional combat brigades to Afghanistan and for U.S. forces there to adopt the counter-insurgency strategy that has produced the recent successes in Iraq: “What we need in Afghanistan is … a nationwide civil-military campaign plan that is focused on providing security for the population.” In terms of troop increases, at least, this position appears very similar to Obama's. But Afghanistan does not exist in isolation; tactics are not the same as strategy, and policy goals are useless without a plausible way to achieve them. Both Obama and McCain may want to send more combat brigades to Afghanistan. But given the severe strain that long-term, concurrent wars have placed on the armed forces, this will be hard for any president to do if troops are not redeployed from Iraq.
Even if the additional brigades could be sent, the few thousand soldiers they represent would not be sufficient to bring security to Afghanistan. Unlike in Iraq, many NATO allies operate alongside U.S. forces in Afghanistan. Some countries—most notably the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and Canada—permit their soldiers to engage in dangerous (and costly) counter-insurgency operations. But others, such as France and Germany, only allow their soldiers to operate in calmer portions of the country. This has generated understandable tensions in the alliance. Perhaps the greatest value of any additional U.S. troops in Afghanistan would be as force multipliers—as leverage to secure greater commitments from recalcitrant NATO allies or as confidence building measures for nascent Afghan governing institutions. It is perfectly reasonable and understandable that Obama and McCain would share the goal of a more secure Afghanistan. But the goals alone are not sufficient. Just as important is how policy makers align these goals with others (both allies and adversaries), rally support for their objectives, and build a sustainable basis for achieving them. In other words, diplomacy counts.
It is in this context that Obama made his overseas tour. To be sure, the trip was meant to bolster his image as a worldly figure, able to hold his own in the international arena. But a week long trip does not give a candidate foreign policy “experience.” Such experience can really only be gained through service in the executive branch—something that neither Obama nor McCain can claim. But after eight years of an administration widely perceived as being undiplomatic, and with global challenges far too great to solve unilaterally, Obama's trip was still more than just an electoral ploy. It was a way for him to demonstrate that his potential presidency would offer not just a substantive difference from Bush or McCain, but a stylistic one as well. A foreign policy is only as good as the process used to achieve it.
Foreign Policy Association, 24 July 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:29 PM to Europe, Middle East, Trans-geographical, 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)
November 22, 2007
Pakistani perils
In recent weeks, Pakistan has been wracked with a level of turmoil and uncertainty unique to that already unsteady state. Given its proximity to Islamic extremists—in Afghanistan, in Kashmir, and possibly within the government itself—as well as its nuclear arsenal, Pakistan is a country of particular importance to the United States. Turmoil and uncertainty there cannot be ignored, and U.S. politicians are certainly doing no such thing. Congressional leaders and presidential candidates alike are using the current unrest in Pakistan not only as a prompt to call for changes in U.S. policy, but as a chance to demonstrate their own geopolitical acumen. But it is unclear how much influence these domestic political leaders—or even the president, for that matter—can effectively exert on Pakistan.
On November 3, Pervez Musharraf—both President of Pakistan and chief general of its army—declared a state of emergency rule in his country, effectively suspending the constitution and imposing martial law. Since taking power in a bloodless coup in 1999, Musharraf has walked an increasingly precarious tightrope. He has had to manage the conflicting interests of often-corrupt leaders of Pakistan's main political parties, of historical rival India, of Islamic extremists in neighboring Afghanistan and within Pakistan itself, and of the United States and its post-9/11 efforts to fight terrorism. For much of the past eight years, Musharraf has deftly played these conflicting forces off of each other and maintained his hold on power. But increasing pressure from all fronts compelled him to declare the present state of emergency. Musharraf shut down private television stations and detained opposition figures in the political, judicial, and private sectors. He even cited Abraham Lincoln to justify his actions, noting that Lincoln had one “consuming passion during [the U.S. Civil War], and this was to preserve the Union … towards that end, he broke laws, he violated the Constitution, he usurped arbitrary power, he trampled individual liberties.” Musharraf has recently suggested that he will permit parliamentary elections early next year, but given the uncertainty surrounding the situation, his promises may carry little weight.
From the U.S. perspective, the turmoil in Pakistan presents a unique problem. The country is crucially important to U.S. interests, but the president and Congress have limited leverage to shape events there. In recent months, as the growing instability of Musharraf's rule was demonstrated by his disputes with Pakistan's Supreme Court, the Bush administration tried to broker a compromise of sorts. It promoted a plan whereby exiled former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, who faced potential corruption charges in her own country, would return to Pakistan. Musharraf would drop the corruption charges against her and allow her to lead her party in parliamentary elections that, if successful, would make Bhutto prime minister again. In return, Bhutto would not protest Musharraf's continued tenure as president and grant his administration a veneer of democratic legitimacy. The current state of emergency has upset those plans in unpredictable ways. Musharraf even placed Bhutto under house arrest for several days, ostensibly for the former prime minister's own protection. U.S. Deputy Secretary of State, John Negroponte traveled to Pakistan in an unsuccessful attempt to restart political reconciliation there and to convince Musharraf to lift the state of emergency. “I urged the government to stop such actions, lift the state of emergency and release all political detainees,” he said. “Emergency rule is not compatible with free, fair, and credible elections.”
For Congress, the most obvious lever to affect the situation in Pakistan is the foreign aid that the United States provides to that country. Since 9/11, the United States has given over $10 billion in aid to Pakistan. The bulk of that amount—more than $6 billion—has come in the form of “Coalition Support Funds,” which are intended to reimburse U.S. allies for their assistance in the “war on terrorism.” Fifteen percent of the total aid has gone toward security assistance, which Pakistan has used primarily to purchase major weapons systems, while another 15 percent has gone toward budget support, which represents direct cash transfers to the Pakistani government. Just 10 percent of U.S. aid has fallen under the category of development and humanitarian assistance. Many experts have questioned the accountability of this aid—especially the 90 percent that goes directly to the Pakistani military or to Musharraf's government, and in particular the aid that falls under the categories of “Coalition Support Funds” and budget support. “We don't have a good sense of where it goes,” says Rick Barton of the Center for Strategic and International Studies.
Accordingly, several presidential candidates have seized on U.S. aid to Pakistan as a potential point of leverage. Senator Joe Biden (D-DE), chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, proposed a plan that would triple non-security aid to Pakistan to $1.5 billion annually and condition security aid on performance. “I'd spend more if we get better returns—and less if we don't,” said Biden. He would also provide Pakistan with a “democracy dividend” of an additional $1 billion in aid during the country's first year of democratic rule. Senator Barack Obama (D-IL)—like Biden, a presidential contender and a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee—proposed similar steps. In a letter to the Senate Appropriations Committee, Obama suggested that aid to Pakistan should continue in the areas of counter-terrorism, public education, health, micro-enterprise development, humanitarian assistance, and democracy and rule of law programs. He further called for a temporary suspension of all other funding for Pakistan until the Bush administration certifies that no U.S. assistance is being used to repress the democracy; that parliamentary elections have been scheduled, restrictions on the media have been lifted, and those detained as a result of state of emergency have been freed; and that Pakistan has developed a comprehensive strategy to root out Taliban and al Qaeda forces in northwest Pakistan.
Republican presidential candidate Senator John McCain (R-AZ) expressed a concern of many policy makers and experts about the risk of Pakistan's nuclear weapons falling into the hands of Islamic extremists. “If they gain control … we are going to have big problems in Afghanistan and the area," McCain said. Such concerns prompted the New York Times to publish a story on assistance that the United States has given to Pakistan to help it secure its nuclear arsenal. The newspaper had refrained from publishing the story for three years, due to requests from the Bush administration, but recent events prompted a change in policy. Evidently, since 9/11, the administration has spent $100 million—buried in secret portions of the federal budget—to help Pakistan secure its nuclear arsenal. The aid primarily took the form of equipment and training, but concerns on both sides limited the extent of the program. U.S. officials were wary of divulging sensitive technology or procedures about its nuclear arsenal, and Pakistan was wary of giving the United States too much access or information about its own fledging arsenal. So far, the Bush administration insists that Pakistan's nuclear weapons remain safe. “I don't see any indication right now that security of those weapons is in jeopardy, but clearly we are very watchful, as we should be,” said Admiral Mike Mullen, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The crisis in Pakistan has also highlighted a more fundamental question about U.S. foreign policy, one that was raised in a highly truncated form by the CNN moderator in a recent debate among the Democratic presidential candidates: “Is human rights more important than American national security?” From a political standpoint, the answer is clear. Few self-respecting politicians would publicly suggest that anything is more important than U.S. national security, and most of the candidates at the debate gave this safe, predictable answer. But Obama challenged the premise of the question itself, noting that human rights and national security “are not contradictory … they are complimentary.” He further noted that, “Pakistan's democracy would strengthen our battle against extremists.” Coming from a candidate who had made headlines with previous pronouncements regarding Pakistan, this was a very sensible perspective (for more, see The Water's Edge, August 2007). Perhaps more importantly, the episode demonstrated the folly—if not outright danger—of trying to address fundamental questions of U.S. foreign policy in 30-second sound bites at a raucous, highly politicized debate.
U.S. interests in Pakistan are clear, and they are profound. A solid case can be made that the current instability is at least partially the result of U.S. policy toward the region over the past five, 10, or 50 years. Certainly, it's important to understand how poor policy choices in the past may have created complex problems today. But in the current election season, the eyes of politicians and voters alike are directed toward the future. Although the prospects of affecting the situation in Pakistan in the short-term may be dim, U.S. policies today will surely help shape the politics and economies of the region far into the future. If for no other reason, voters should ensure that their elected officials understand the issues at hand and have clear ideas about how to address them.
Foreign Policy Association, 22 November 2007
Posted by Daniel Widome at 08:50 PM to Asia, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
August 24, 2007
Open policy
Over the past few weeks, amid of the summer's political doldrums, the 2008 presidential campaign has heated up. On the Democratic side, Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) has found his foreign policy views placed under increasing scrutiny by his competitors and by electorates in the early-voting primary states. First, during a Democratic debate, Obama expressed his willingness to meet with unfriendly foreign leaders. The next week, Obama gave a speech in which he suggested that he would strike high-value al Qaeda targets in Pakistan as president. Finally, a few days later, he let slip his objection to using nuclear weapons against al Qaeda targets in Afghanistan and Pakistan.
Critics interpreted these episodes as evidence that Obama was naïve, irresponsible, or just plain unprepared. But taken together, Obama's pronouncements can be seen as constituting a broad critique of the largely opaque manner in which the Untied States has conducted its foreign policy for decades. His campaign is mining this critique for all its political value, framing it as a debate between “common sense” and “conventional Washington thinking.” Says Obama, “It's time to turn the page on conventional foreign policy thinking.” Perhaps the more relevant question, however, is whether the critique has any practical value.
“Conventional Washington thinking,” as defined by Obama, is manifested through a time-tested means of conducting foreign policy. Such an approach has a long history, but really came into its own during the Cold War, when slight diplomatic miscues could upset the delicate balance of power between the United States and Soviet Union. In the dawn of the nuclear age, an entire vocabulary was developed to manage a foreign policy increasingly fraught with risks and consequences. In the diplomatic world, this vocabulary became familiar. The foreign policy establishment in government, business, and academia spoke mutually intelligible languages, and countries conducted business with each other in a well-orchestrated charade of communiqués, joint declarations, and multilateral resolutions.
This specialized, nuanced manner of conducting foreign policy essentially created an elite class of foreign policy practitioners that reigns to this day. Such foreign policy elitism possesses many inherent advantages. All the key players know the rough parameters of the debate and can easily self-regulate their diplomatic discourse. The opacity that comes from foreign policy elitism allows for a great degree of discretion; certain goals or objectives that are best kept secret can be obscured through the complexity of foreign policy discourse. Even when broad objectives are clear, diplomatic opacity can keep adversaries guessing regarding preferred methods or approaches—for example, an unfriendly regime is not sure if the United States will confront it with sanctions or with force.
When dealing with allies, too, foreign policy elitism has its advantages. The specialized vocabulary and expertise that define the foreign policy elite provides a venue and a means to communicate quickly and efficiently across international borders. Such elitism offers domestic political advantages, as well. It provides politicians with a ready-made means to control their foreign policy message and allows them to offer stock platitudes to describe their foreign policy views in a consistent manner. Once accepted by the electorate—which historically has viewed foreign policy as secondary to domestic concerns—such consistent salesmanship allows policymakers the freedom of maneuver on the international stage that they require.
Foreign policy elitism also has a negative side. In a republic, political transparency is more than just a virtue. It is an indispensable prerequisite of an honest government that is responsible to its constituents. To be sure, the complexity of modern public policy precludes absolute transparency—not all information can be made available to all citizens, and not all citizens would be able to evaluate policy information in a substantive manner. But the aphorism that “politics stops at the water's edge”—a reference to the supposed nonpartisan continuity of U.S. foreign policy—is easily abused. To make informed political decisions, citizens must engage (and be engaged) in an open and transparent debate about the foundations of U.S. foreign policymaking. Such a debate surely would highlight differences between political candidates and parties. But the argument that an open airing of such differences would severely harm U.S. interests overseas is difficult to support. The expertise offered by the foreign policy elite is surely required at the level of policy implementation, in much the same way that government requires a technocratic and bureaucratic class to manage complex domestic programs such as Social Security and Medicare. But at the point of policy formulation, republican government requires transparent, honest debate. To suggest that foreign policy should be immune from such a requirement strains credulity.
For example, when a presidential candidate is faced with a question about meeting with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran or Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, the safe answer prescribed by the foreign policy elite would be a resounding “no.” Certainly, the foreign policy elite allows for some modest variation of that answer, to account for partisan politics. But the ultimate answer will always be the same, and for more or less the same reason: U.S. enemies could use diplomatic meetings as propaganda tools. The validity of this claim is never really tested—it is simply taken at face value. So when Obama provided an answer that contradicts the established views of the foreign policy elite, he presented a challenge that extended beyond partisan, presidential politics. The merits of his statement became obscured in the process.
The same is true with Obama's comments on U.S. nuclear policy, which has always been a particularly sacred issue with the foreign policy elite, and for good reason. The standard, public response to questions concerning U.S. nuclear posture has been to avoid addressing specific hypothetical scenarios. As with much of the foreign policy elite's thinking, the premise of this response is actually quite sound. A reliable nuclear deterrent is dependent upon U.S. adversaries believing that the United States would be willing to use nuclear weapons. If a nuclear-armed adversary doubted U.S. will in this regard, an attack on the United States could become much more plausible. But this traditional response to questions of U.S. nuclear policy needlessly stifles nuance for the sake of absolute consistency. For his part, Obama noted that he would not use nuclear weapons to attack al Qaeda targets in Afghanistan and Pakistan. On a gut level, Obama was right—the use of nuclear weapons in any setting is difficult to contemplate. And on a substantive, rational level, Obama was also right—nuclear weapons would be the wrong tool for the hypothetical job presented. But his response contradicted the traditions of the foreign policy elite, and for that reason alone, Obama's comments became controversial.
Obama's critics, and defenders of the foreign policy elite, suggest that international relations is a field that requires immense delicacy. Essentially, tone matters as much as substance, and words uttered in a domestic political campaign can easily be disseminated around the world and mistaken as quasi-official pronouncements of U.S. policy. This is surely a valid critique. Obama's expressed willingness to attack al Qaeda targets in Pakistan stirred protests in that country and earned pointed denunciations from its government. “It's a very irresponsible statement, that's all I can say," said Pakistan's Foreign Minister Khusheed Kasuri. "As the election campaign in America is heating up we would not like American candidates to fight their elections and contest elections at our expense." It's unclear if this suggests that U.S. political candidates should censor their thoughts on foreign policy when they contradict those of the Washington elite. But it does demonstrate that the United States faces a unique level of scrutiny that derives from its global standing. Local issues in this country can have consequences around the world, and politicians of all stripes need to be mindful of this reality.
The question of tone is also relevant in the domestic sense, amid the battlefields of presidential politics. Upon close inspection, it becomes clear that Obama's Democratic rivals do not disagree much with the substance of his positions. Seeking an opportunity for political gain, their critiques of his foreign policy pronouncements largely boil down to questions of tone: They don't disagree on the value of greater diplomacy, but on how open the United States should be in pursuing it; they don't disagree on the use of military force or nuclear weapons to fight al Qaeda, but on how clearly U.S. policy should be articulated. In one sense, this minimizes the recent debate surrounding Obama's foreign policy by placing it firmly within the realm of electoral politics. But tone matters in international relations, too, and as events in Pakistan demonstrated, allies and adversaries around the world are not ignorant about U.S. domestic politics. As the presidential campaign continues to unfold, and as the political bickering rises to a fever pitch, domestic and foreign audiences alike will be watching with a keen eye.
Foreign Policy Association, 24 August 2007
Posted by Daniel Widome at 02:25 PM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
July 28, 2007
Terror questions
As Congress engaged in another round of contentious debate over the Iraq war—this time, complete with a successful overnight filibuster by Republicans—the country was reminded of the nagging, perpetual fear of terrorism. A spate of attempted and botched terrorist attacks in the United Kingdom renewed the sense that the threat of religious-inspired violence remains real. A new National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) was released that painted a discouraging picture of the Bush administration's anti-terrorism campaign. As the death toll mounts in Iraq, and the prospects for a change in strategy grow dimmer, many in Congress and elsewhere are questioning with increasing intensity the connection between the war in Iraq and the "war on terror." Together, these various threads beg serious questions about the current U.S. anti-terror strategy and how Congress might move to address its deficiencies.
In recent weeks, the United Kingdom experienced a rapid spate of terrorist-related incidents. On June 29, British police discovered and disarmed two rudimentary car bombs in central London. The next day, two men rammed a jeep filled with propane cylinders into the main terminal at Glasgow Airport in Scotland. Although neither incident resulted in civilian loss of life, and the Glasgow Airport attack only caused minor damage, they prompted the United Kingdom to raise its terror alert status to its highest level. Because the foreign policy of the United Kingdom is so closely aligned with that of the United States, a threat in one country can justifiably raise fears in the other. Perhaps with such fears in mind, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff admitted to feeling some discomfort: "[I have] kind of a gut feeling that we are in a period of increased vulnerability."
A few weeks later, the Bush administration released a declassified version of its latest NIE. The report, billed as the U.S. intelligence community's "most authoritative written judgment on national security issues," notes that nearly six years after the 9/11 attacks, the group has "protected or regenerated key elements of its [h]omeland attack capability, including a safe haven in [Pakistan], operational lieutenants, and its top leadership." These assessments provided a great deal of ammunition for Bush administration critics in Congress, who suggested that the president's "war on terror" has been less than successful. "It is a travesty that Osama bin Laden remains at large nearly six years after the 9/11 attacks, and that the Bush administration and most congressional Republicans remain stubbornly wedded to a flawed strategy in Iraq," said Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-NV).
The release of the NIE, incidentally, occurred in the midst of Congress' latest debate on the Iraq war. Some suspected that such timing was no accident, and that the Bush administration thought that such a bleak assessment of the "war on terror" would encourage legislators to support his steadfast strategy in Iraq. The NIE explicitly notes that the central al Qaeda organization would "seek to leverage the contacts and capabilities of al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), its most visible and capable affiliate and the only one known to have expressed a desire to attack the [h]omeland." Indeed, the president himself has often sought to link the "war on terror" with the Iraq war. In May, he declared that, "the enemy in Vietnam had neither the intent nor the capability to strike our homeland [but] the enemy in Iraq does."
The administration's approach, however, is fraught with risk. In addition to Iraq's purported weapons of mass destruction, the Bush administration's original case for invasion rested on that country's affiliations with al Qaeda. It is now known that any such affiliations were tentative at best, and that al Qaeda-inspired militancy in Iraq is largely a by-product of the U.S. occupation. AQI—the organization cited in the NIE and a group that rose to bloody prominence under Abu Musab al-Zarqawi—only came into being after the U.S. invasion of Iraq, and it swore allegiance to Osama bin Laden after its precursor organizations had already established an independent reputation for sectarian violence. In other words, AQI was not involved in the 9/11 attacks. And even if it seeks to attack the United States directly, the organization's priorities clearly lie in Iraq, where it has ready access to U.S. targets. Democrats in Congress were quick to emphasize this point. "It is not true, categorically not true, that there was al Qaeda in Iraq before we invaded," said Representative Jane Harman (D-CA), chair of the Homeland Security subcommittee on intelligence.
Despite the pointed language, the debate in Congress failed again to produce a definitive change in Iraq war strategy. But the latest reminder of the intersection between the Iraq war and the "war on terror" provides an opportunity to re-evaluate U.S. prosecution of the latter. The term itself –"war on terror"—has always been somewhat controversial. Even among the vast majority of policy makers that agree that terrorism is a serious threat, many question whether an approach that emphasizes a military response is the best strategy. Rhetorically, the term "war on terror" evokes unfavorable comparisons with the "war on poverty" or the "war on drugs," not to mention its grammatical irregularity. Given these inconsistencies, some have suggested a radical revision of U.S. anti-terror strategy. In an article in the Atlantic Monthly last year, James Fallows suggested a straightforward approach: simply declare victory in the "war on terror" and transition to a more measured, less inflammatory anti-terror strategy. He notes that although al Qaeda itself does not constitute an existential threat to the United States, a poor U.S. response to al Qaeda provocation does. The initial U.S. military campaign in Afghanistan in 2001 evicted the ruling Taliban and deprived the central al Qaeda organization of its safe haven; it was clearly a success. But Fallows cites the U.S. war in Iraq and its galvanizing effect on Islamic militants around the world as an example of how a solely military response to terrorism can be counter-productive. Of course, as the latest NIE points out, al Qaeda has re-established some degree of shelter in the border region between Afghanistan and Pakistan. But as Fallows noted optimistically last year, "[al Qaeda's] destiny is no longer in its own hands." Perhaps time remains for Congress to push for a different strategy that takes advantage of this reality.
Even if Congress does not take up this challenge, it appears that others might. In the wake of the terrorist incidents in the United Kingdom, a number of foreign-born, Muslim physicians were arrested. One of the two men who rammed a vehicle into the Glasgow Airport terminal was Iraqi. Given such evidence, one could imagine how authorities might jump at the opportunity to link terrorism in Western countries with the war in Iraq—the need to fight them "there," before they attack us "here." As former U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld remarked in 2005, "U.S. forces are in Iraq to … fight the terrorists there, so we don't have to fight them here in the United States." Instead of taking a similar approach, the newly installed British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, adopted a notably measured tone in addressing the incidents and the resulting arrests. He was more likely to define culprits as "criminals" rather than "terrorists," and he refrained from identifying them explicitly as "Muslim" or "Islamic." The rhetorical distinctions are subtle, but revealing. In using such language, Brown was attempting to deny the culprits the prestige of being soldiers in a war, and to decouple the religion from the crime.
Some in the United States are pushing for a new strategy more loudly than others. Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards has made a point of refuting the "war on terror" rhetoric, calling it "a slogan designed only for politics, not a strategy to make America safe." But the president is unlikely to change his rhetoric or his strategy before he leaves office, and if Congress cannot pass legislation to govern a conflict as discrete and unpopular as the war in Iraq, it is not likely to be able to do the same with a conflict as nebulous and important as the "war on terror" or its equivalent. The emerging British example under Brown may offer a glimmer of hope for a different approach to anti-terror strategy, but don't expect a change anytime soon.
Foriegn Policy Association, 26 July 2007
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:05 AM to Europe, Middle East, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
December 22, 2006
Trading places
Although the Iraq war was the main driver behind the Democrats’ victory in the mid-term elections, it was not the only issue that fueled the change of power in Congress. Democrats also relied on the issue of international trade, linking it with the outsourcing of U.S. jobs and the struggles of certain vital industries. In their construction, Democrats stood for “fair” trade while Republicans advocated “free” trade. The success of this message fueled Democratic victories in several key races, which means that the new Democratic majority in Congress is not likely to ignore their campaign promises on the issue. But although changes to U.S. trade policy are likely, translating popular electoral slogans into a coherent policy may prove more difficult.
Democrats’ opposition to “free” trade is by no means a new phenomenon, and it is rooted in the party’s robust history of support for labor. Opponents of “free” trade generally emphasize the destructive aspect of the unrestrained market forces it unleashes. They often argue that such forces enable large, multinational companies to outsource good-paying jobs from the United States to other countries where labor is cheaper, and thus more likely to be mistreated. They also argue that lower tariffs on imported goods threaten the health of vital U.S. industries. Likewise, multinational corporations will tend to relocate dirty production processes to countries that lack rigorous environmental regulations if it results in lower costs and higher profits. Opponents of “free” trade, then, see it as a cynical and rapacious vehicle for maximizing profits at the expense of workers—in the United States and abroad—as well as the environment.
Republicans, by contrast, have traditionally been more supportive of “free” trade, as befits their history as the party of capital. Supporters of “free” trade often rely on traditional liberal economic theory, as exemplified by Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” and David Ricardo’s work on comparative advantage. Fundamentally, “free” trade proponents feel that market forces will naturally benefit most people, if allowed to operate free of government intervention. The market determines where products and services can be produced most efficiently, and the resulting savings will benefit producers and consumers alike, around the world. Excessive taxes, tariffs, trade barriers, and other government involvement in the process only corrupt these natural market forces, hurting efficiency and, ultimately, harming the livelihoods of producers and consumers. For “free” traders, the less government involvement, the better.
For the most part, President Bush has lived up to the “free” trade traditions of the Republican Party. He has been greatly aided in this pursuit by his “fast track” authority to negotiate foreign trade deals, meaning that the agreements negotiated by his administration can only be accepted or rejected by Congress, not amended. This is important for a number of reasons. Bilateral trade agreements can be immensely complicated, with separate provisions, tariffs, and regulations for each area of commerce between the United States and a given country. Such agreements commonly entail years of meticulous negotiation. If other countries know that such agreements can be quickly undone by a single U.S. senator or congressman defending the interests of their own preferred constituency or industry, they will be far less likely to enter into such negotiations in the first place. Multilateral trade negotiations can be even more complicated than bilateral ones. “Fast track” authority thus acts as a source of reassurance for U.S. negotiating partners, and it helps to ensure that any agreement negotiated will get a straight up-or-down vote in the U.S. Congress. Since securing “fast track” authority in 2002, Bush has negotiated—and Congress has approved—trade agreements with Chile, Australia, Oman, the states of Central America, and other countries.
It is in the Congressional voting records for these trade agreements that the simplistic electoral distinction between “free” and “fair” trade breaks down, and where party discipline loses out to constituent services. The 2005 vote to approve the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) in the House of Representatives was 217-215, with the majority of Republicans voting in favor of the agreement and the majority of Democrats voting in opposition. But 27 Republicans voted against the agreement, while 15 Democrats voted for it. Although these numbers seem modest, they represent a striking breakdown of party discipline, especially considering that the final roll call was separated by only 2 votes out of 432. As one might expect, many of the Republicans who opposed CAFTA represented districts that stood to lose jobs or business to cheap Central American competitors; this apparently was reason enough to vote against their party line. The 2004 trade agreement with Australia differed slightly in that passed the House with a comfortable 314-109 majority. But even in that clear passage, the final roll call comprised a remarkable blend of party votes—116 Democrats and 198 Republicans voted in favor of the agreement, while 83 Democrats and 25 Republicans opposed it. This tendency to buck the parties’ electoral line extends to the executive branch, as well. In the 1990s, Democrat Bill Clinton famously (and controversially) championed the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), and in 2002, Republican Bush introduced steep tariffs on imported steel in an effort to protect domestic producers.
The electoral perception that Republicans and Democrats have clear and consistent positions on trade, then, is not entirely true. This perception is encouraged for a number of reasons. For one thing, the immensely complicated nature of trade agreements is not easily portrayed in campaign advertisements or candidate stump speeches. More broadly, however, the major political parties (and many of their members) have had difficulty in defining their fundamental conceptions of the purpose of trade. Is the main goal of trade to promote economic growth? And if so, should such growth be measured on a national scale or a global one? The same question must be asked of job creation, as well. Should the primary objective of trade deals be the protection of existing jobs or the creation of new ones? Should such jobs be in an already-wealthy United States, as most elected politicians would likely agree, or in developing countries wracked with extreme poverty and unemployment? By simplifying trade as a choice between the “free” and the “fair” varieties, many politicians craftily avoid these difficult questions. The incoming Democratic majorities in Congress, flush off its electoral successes and ever mindful of its “fair” trade campaign promises, may not be inclined to give these important questions the consideration they deserve.
President Bush’s “fast track” authority is due to expire in June 2007, and given the current political climate, it is exceedingly unlikely that the Democratic-controlled Congress will renew this authority. This does not bode well for progress on new or ongoing trade negotiations, especially when the executive and the legislature promise to be at odds over many other contentious issues and with a presidential election less than two short years away. In the face of such tough odds, perhaps Democrats and Republicans will finally be forced to reconsider their fundamental conceptions of the purpose of trade.
Foreign Policy Association, 21 December 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 12:28 AM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics
October 26, 2006
Proliferation legislation
North Korea's recent nuclear test only confirmed what had long been suspected: the global non-proliferation regime has failed spectacularly. Although the powers of East Asia, the United States, and the United Nations have each issued stinging condemnations of the test and passed an array of punitive sanctions, nothing will change the fact that North Korea is now, unambiguously, a nuclear-armed state. The mid-term elections, however, are only days away. With the very real prospect of a leadership change in one or both houses of Congress, the legislature may soon have an opportunity to strengthen U.S. counter-proliferation efforts.
Congress can influence non-proliferation efforts in a number of ways, ranging across a spectrum of formality. Most formally, the Senate can ratify non-proliferation treaties negotiated by the executive branch. The most important of such treaties is the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), which was ratified by the Senate in 1969 and entered into force in 1970. The NPT confirms the nuclear status of those states that had nuclear weapons at the time of negotiation: the Untied States, the Soviet Union (whose responsibilities under the treaty have since been assumed by Russia), the United Kingdom, France, and China. All other parties to the treaty pledge not to develop nuclear weapons of their own and to allow inspectors from the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) to verify their compliance. In return, the IAEA provides assistance to these states to develop civilian nuclear technology for energy-production purposes. The NPT certainly has its shortcomings. India, Pakistan, and Israel are acknowledged nuclear powers but have refused to sign the NPT; Iran has been pushing the limits of the treaty and is suspected by many of secretly violating its terms; and North Korea's latest test was preceded by its renunciation of the NPT and its expulsion of IAEA inspectors in 2003. Nevertheless, the NPT remains the bedrock of global non-proliferation efforts, and the Senate was a constitutionally mandated part of the ratification process.
The Senate, however, does not serve merely “rubber-stamp” treaties already negotiated by the president. In 1996, President Clinton signed the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), which would have banned all nuclear explosions, in all environments, around the world. But in 1999, the U.S. Senate refused to ratify the treaty by a vote of 51-48. Although 135 countries have already ratified the CTBT, the treaty will only go into effect when it is ratified by the 44 countries that possessed nuclear reactors in 1996. At present, only 10 of those 44 countries (including the United States) have not yet ratified the CTBT. In this particular case, then, the Senate is not only responsible for excluding the United States from an important non-proliferation treaty. Its continued rejection of the CTBT actively prevents the treaty from entering into force, even among those states that have already ratified it. During the debate over ratification, Senator John Warner (R-VA)—Chair of the Armed Services Committee then as he is now and an opponent of the CTBT—framed his position in terms of U.S. credibility: “If there were some feeling of weakness about [the US] stockpile, it could induce a leader of another nation or some rogue element or some terrorist to challenge the United States ... There can be no doubt about the credibility of that stockpile.”
Less formally, Congress can influence non-proliferation efforts outside the parameters of treaty ratification. Perhaps most notable among such efforts is the Nunn-Lugar Cooperative Threat Reduction Program. Created in 1991 and named after its cosponsors, Senators Samuel Nunn (D-GA) and Richard Lugar (R-IN), the program provides U.S. funding and expertise to decommission nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons in the former Soviet Union. Following the collapse of that country in the early 1990s, there was a great fear that weapons of mass destruction—and the skilled scientists that developed and maintained such weapons—would end up in the wrong hands. The Nunn-Lugar program was intended to address this concern, and thus far it has proven quite successful. It claims to have destroyed or deactivated nearly 7000 nuclear warheads and almost 600 nuclear-capable ballistic missiles since its inception. Congress has generally been very supportive of the Nunn-Lugar program, and over the past decade, it has expanded the program to cover a wider range of weapons, to provide WMD expertise to first responders in U.S. cities, and to secure WMD facilities outside of the former Soviet Union. In November 2005, Lugar joined with Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) to sponsor a supplement to the program. Their proposal would increase coordination efforts with foreign governments and expand Nunn-Lugar to cover conventional weapon stockpiles. “We are convinced that the United States can and should do more to eliminate conventional weapons stockpiles and assist other nations in detecting and interdicting weapons of mass destruction. We believe that these functions are underfunded, fragmented, and in need of high-level support,” Lugar noted.
Non-proliferation efforts that originate from Congress, such as the Nunn-Lugar program, possess several advantages over treaties such as the CTBT. Foremost among these advantages is their relative ease of conception. Whereas formal treaties must be negotiated simultaneously among multiple foreign governments, programs such as Nunn-Lugar follow a legislative process much more familiar to members of Congress as well as to the public at large. Like any other bill, Nunn-Lugar needed to pass both houses of Congress and earn the signature of the president in order to become law. Although this is by no means an easy process, it is significantly more straightforward and accessible than the complex and time-consuming process of negotiating a formal international treaty. Once enacted, the executive branch—through the State and Defense Departments—must make arrangements with foreign governments regarding the application of Nunn-Lugar funds and the access to be granted to U.S. personnel. Again, such international negotiations are by no means easy. But they are generally much simpler than the exhaustive deliberations required for a formal treaty like the CTBT.
Perhaps the most informal efforts to combat nuclear proliferation are those that are enacted by the executive branch alone, with limited input required from Congress. Foremost among such efforts is the Bush administration's Proliferation Security Initiative (PSI). The PSI is a multinational program intended to interdict shipments of WMDs and related materials on the high seas. Fifteen countries—including Australia, Japan, France, the United Kingdom, and others—have signed on to the program as core members, while over 60 countries have agreed to participate on an ad hoc basis. In 2005, on the occasion of the second anniversary of PSI, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice revealed that the program was responsible for 11 interdictions in the previous nine months. As conceived by the Bush administration, the PSI is not a formal treaty, so it requires no consent from the Senate. Likewise, as an executive act, the PSI has faced no formal review by Congress. Although the legislature may withhold the funds necessary to operate the program, the PSI has not yet faced serious opposition from members of Congress. Indeed, several bills introduced during the current Congress have specifically called for the expansion of the program.
As far as North Korea is concerned, it would be easy to suggest that further non-proliferation efforts would be for naught. The regime enacted by the NPT has clearly failed, and the CTBT is not yet even an operative treaty; programs such as Nunn-Lugar simply are not applicable in a case such as North Korea's. Having finally tested a weapon, North Korea faces a response that is more punitive than anything else, and the Bush administration has worked through the United Nations to secure such punitive sanctions. In the future, however, one could expect a far greater emphasis on informal counter-proliferation programs such as the PSI. Now that North Korea has definitively demonstrated its nuclear arsenal, the goal should be to prevent it from transferring that technology and know-how to the highest bidder. Indeed, some of the latest sanctions levied on North Korea could mirror or bolster the PSI's interdiction efforts. But if relatively informal efforts such as the PSI begin to usurp formal international regimes like the NPT as the cornerstones of U.S. counter-proliferation policy, Congress may demand a greater voice in their conception and implementation It is a matter of tremendous and increasing importance, and if control of Congress changes hands on November 7, it will surely be addressed.
Foreign Policy Association, 26 October 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 06:33 PM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics
September 12, 2006
Small diameter solutions
The latest conflict between Israel and Hezbollah has elicited plenty of comparisons with the U.S. war in Iraq. In each case, a technologically superior foreign state fought a less-advanced, indigenous, non-state foe. And in each case, the latter appeared to win, largely by practicing the tenets of "asymmetric warfare." Such a situation has raised one resounding question: Is a technologically advanced military an effective tool to fight terrorists?
In many cases it is. Failed states can be co-opted by terrorists and provide a sanctuary for their operations, and rogue states can deliberately and strategically support their goals. Ousting the Taliban regime in Afghanistan unquestionably hurt al Qaeda's operations, and some suggest that Iran's support for Hezbollah can only be stopped by military action against that country.
Military force, however, is an inherently messy and imprecise instrument, especially when fighting non-state actors, such as terrorists. Without clear battle lines and a universal respect for the laws of war, it is sometimes impossible for a bomb or missile to take out an individual terrorist target without killing nearby non-combatants or destroying non-military facilities. The effects of such "collateral damage" often outweigh the strategic benefit of a destroyed terrorist target. Increasingly, modern militaries are finding themselves ill suited to fighting these kinds of asymmetric wars.
Keenly aware of this truth, the Pentagon is retooling its arsenal to cope with the new kind of war practiced in Lebanon and Iraq. This summer, the Small Diameter Bomb debuted in U.S service; it should see its first combat use before the end of the year. This bomb will have an advanced GPS guidance system, theoretically enabling it to hit within 3 meters of a designated target from as much as 60 miles away, in all weather conditions. Its uniqueness, however, can be found in its name. The Small Diameter Bomb will be a small bomb -- less than 6 feet long, less than 8 inches in diameter, and weighing less than 300 pounds. By contrast, versions of the Joint Direct Attack Munition -- the primary GPS-guided bomb currently in the U.S. arsenal -- range in length from 10 feet to more than 12 feet and in weight from 1,000 lbs. to 2,000 lbs.
The Small Diameter Bomb's diminutive size gives it two great advantages. First, aircraft can carry more of them, and thus attack more targets per mission. The new F-22 fighter can carry two 1,000-pound Joint Direct Attack Munitions or, alternatively, eight Small Diameter Bombs. The B-2 bomber will be able to carry more than 200 of the little bombs. Second, the Small Diameter Bombs will limit collateral damage. If the target is a house, a car or even an individual terrorist, a small bomb will work just as well as a bigger bomb. With GPS guidance, generals no longer need a big blast to compensate for a near miss.
The Pentagon is poised to go even further. It is researching what it calls focused lethality munitions, which could be fitted to small bombs in the future. These munitions are encased in a composite material that, unlike steel, will not fragment into thousands of pieces of shrapnel upon detonation. This means that the effect of a bomb's explosion is far more focused around the point of impact -- ideally, nothing but the intended target itself is destroyed. To increase the bomb's effect on its intended target alone, the Pentagon is also experimenting with Dense Inert Metal Explosive (DIME), which uses tungsten powder in the explosive to act as a kind of shrapnel at close ranges. Because the shrapnel itself is only a powder, however, it cannot travel nearly as far as the steel fragments resulting from traditional bomb blasts.
If the Small Diameter Bomb and its associated research products live up to their billing, the U.S. military will be able to strike more precisely at terrorist targets with far less collateral damage. Their GPS guidance systems are supposed to be even more precise than those currently in service and their warheads far more efficient. Warplanes will be able to carry a great number of the little bombs, allowing them to strike more targets per sortie. The Small Diameter Bomb could quickly become the indispensable counter-terrorist weapon.
The problem is that the Pentagon rarely lives up to its promises. The inert tungsten powder that would be used in DIME-filled bombs has caused exceedingly high rates of cancer in lab rats. Whether through the explosion itself or through cancer several months later, collateral damage is still collateral damage. And how often in Lebanon and Iraq did a supposedly "smart bomb" -- guided by GPS systems similar to those that will guide the Small Diameter Bombs -- cause tremendous civilian casualties? However technologically precise a guidance system may be, it is still programmed by a human. And if a human tells a bomb to hit an apartment complex, it will do just that.
But programs such as the Small Diameter Bomb present a more fundamental problem. They risk creating the impression that a tactical and technological approach can solve a strategic and moral challenge. If Small Diameter Bombs and focused lethality munitions fulfill their potential, they will undoubtedly prove to be very useful on the battlefield. But no amount of technology can guarantee zero collateral damage in a military action. Rightly or wrongly, the image of a single dead child -- killed by a U.S. or Israeli bomb -- is more than enough to outweigh the strategic benefit of a single dead terrorist.
Technology alone cannot solve the challenges of asymmetric warfare; only a shift in counterterrorism strategy can do that. Recent events, however, seem to demonstrate that such a shift may be a long time in coming.
San Francisco Chronicle, 12 September 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:23 AM to Trans-geographical
May 18, 2006
Important bases
The U.S. military is cleaning house. Existing bases are being retooled or eliminated, and new ones are popping up in some unexpected places. These are the overseas bases that are now vital to the U.S. military—and the new ones that will change its global footprint for years to come.
Andersen Air Force Base & Apra Harbor, Guam
The base: Andersen can handle aircraft ranging from unmanned aerial vehicles to long-range strategic bombers, and Apra Harbor can service everything from nuclear submarines to aircraft carriers. The naval base is also home to one of the three Maritime Prepositioning Squadrons worldwide, which provides mobile, long-term storage of land-combat equipment and supplies near potential trouble spots.
Its importance: Located in the Pacific Ocean about 2,000 miles from Asia, Guam is close enough to the mainland to be vital in any conceivable conflict yet distant enough to preclude a surprise blow from an adversary. Andersen is one of the few locations with the necessary hanger facilities to protect the B-2’s sensitive, radar-evading skin, and strategic bombers regularly cycle through the base to project power toward mainland Asia. The best part: unlike other large bases in the region, Guam is U.S. territory.
Balad Air Base/Camp Anaconda, Iraq
The base: Most prominent of the “enduring bases” being constructed in Iraq, Balad is located just north of Baghdad. It is one of the busiest airfields in the country, accommodating both Air Force fighters as well as transport aircraft. Camp Anaconda, adjacent to the air base, serves as a main base and logistics center for U.S. troops serving throughout central Iraq.
Its importance: Balad’s facilities and location make it more than just an ideal base from which to fight insurgents in Iraq. It is also perfectly positioned to project U.S. power throughout the Middle East, and it will likely do so for many years to come. Although this convenience might serve wider U.S. interests, it doesn’t sit too well with Balad’s Iraqi neighbors—U.S. soldiers have nicknamed Camp Anaconda “Mortaritaville” after a common greeting they receive.
Bezmer Air Base, Bulgaria
The base: Bezmer reflects a broader trend toward lighter, more austere bases in Eastern Europe and away from the larger military complexes in Western and Central Europe. To keep a low profile in the host countries, the Pentagon is reluctant to even refer to Bezmer and its Eastern European equivalents as “bases,” and it stresses that the host countries retain full control of their facilities.
Its importance: Compared to U.S. bases in “old” Europe, Bezmer and its Eastern European equivalents are cheaper to operate and closer to potential hot spots in the Middle East and Central Asia. In times of conflict, the military will use these facilities to “surge” men and materiel toward the front lines. The hope is that former-Soviet bloc host countries will be more amenable to U.S. bases than other hosts in “old” Europe and be less likely to block their use in a time of conflict.
Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory
The base: Located in the middle of the Indian Ocean, Diego Garcia served as a base for B-52s during the 1991 and 2003 wars with Iraq and during post-9/11 operations in Afghanistan. Its isolated anchorage is also home to both Army and Marine seaborne prepositioning squadrons for land-combat equipment and supplies.
Its importance: Isolation—and British sovereignty—make Diego Garcia a far more secure base for U.S. forces than any mainland base in Africa, the Middle East, or South Asia. Specialized shelters to protect the sensitive stealth equipment of visiting B-2s have recently been installed, and strategic bombers regularly rotate through the base. The atoll is also an important part of the U.S. Space Surveillance Network of telescopes, radars, and listening stations.
Guantánamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba
The base: Originally intended as coaling station for the U.S. Navy, Guantánamo Bay (or “Gitmo”) remains an important logistical base for Navy units operating in the Caribbean. It also serves as a hub for counter-drug and migrant interdiction operations.
Its importance: Gitmo’s greatest strategic asset is its hazy legal status—it is U.S.-controlled, but it is not U.S. territory. Although it’s not the only place through which “enemy combatants” (neither POWs nor convicted criminals) could be processed, it is readily accessible from the U.S. mainland, and its staff and facilities have experience in detention operations from their time as host to Haitian and Cuban refugees. As a result, Gitmo is one of the most well-known and reviled U.S. bases worldwide. The Bush administration has repeatedly rejected high-profile calls to shut down the base.
Manas Air Base, Kirgizstan
The base: Manas was established at Bishkek’s international airport in the months following 9/11 as a hub for multinational operations in Afghanistan. It has since grown into a substantial base in the heart of Central Asia, playing host to combat aircraft, their supporting personnel, and associated facilities.
Its importance: In addition to its proximity to Afghanistan, Manas is located near the immense energy reserves of the Caspian Basin, as well as the Russian and Chinese frontiers. Kirgizstan has not threatened to follow Uzbekistan’s example and expel U.S. forces, which suggests that Manas could become a linchpin of the enduring U.S. presence in Central Asia. Recognizing its value, Kirgizstan is talking about raising the rent from $2 million to $207 million per year.
Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:43 PM to Americas, Asia, Europe, Middle East, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics
April 28, 2006
Beneficial inaction
As events this year have already demonstrated, Congress has a great capacity to shape U.S. foreign and national security policy. Certain institutional realities, however, limit its abilities in these policy realms. Perhaps foremost among these limitations is Congress' deliberative nature. Whereas the president can make a decision and thereby define the institutional voice of the executive branch, Congress must deal with the views, agendas, and personalities of 535 co-equal members before it can even consider speaking with a single institutional voice. Such difficulties were amply highlighted during the recent debate over immigration policy. Sometimes, however, the difficulties wrought by deliberation are actually by design, and accordingly represent a blessing in disguise.
There is no question that immigration is an urgent issue in the United States. Drawn by family ties, political idealism, and the promise of employment, as many as 12 million unauthorized or “illegal” immigrants currently reside in the United States. The scope of the immigration debate encompasses many fields of public policy, from national security (border control) to economic policy (enforcement of regulations prohibiting the hiring of illegal immigrants) to cultural affairs (assimilation of immigrants into U.S. society). In terms of sheer economic and societal impact, immigration may be the foreign policy issue felt most directly by many Americans. Yet the current U.S. immigration policy is woefully inadequate. For this reason, immigration reform has been a priority for President Bush since he took office. In the midst of the recent debate, he reminded Congress that it “needs to pass a comprehensive bill that secures the border, improves interior enforcement, and creates a temporary-worker program to strengthen our security and our economy.”
Any immigration reform, however, would have to originate in Congress. Immigration has long been a uniquely divisive issue for politicians, and the proposals considered by legislators in recent weeks spanned the political spectrum and forged unlikely alliances across party lines. In the Senate, a number of proposals were considered that would have offered work visas or guest worker status to illegal immigrants for varying periods of time and that would have made it more difficult for employers to hire illegal immigrants. One such proposal, primarily sponsored by Senators John McCain (R-AZ) and Ted Kennedy (D-MA), passed the Judiciary Committee by a surprisingly bipartisan 12-6 vote.
In the House, however, a much different proposal had won approval. Sponsored by Rep. James Sensenbrenner (R-WI), the House bill would have built a fence along the U.S.-Mexican border, made it a felony to be an undocumented worker, and criminalized the act of giving assistance to illegal immigrants. Sensenbrenner noted, “Illegal aliens should not be granted amnesty and a path to citizenship. This would be a slap in the face to all those who have followed the law and have come to America legally.”
The unpredictable politics of immigration policy, plus the widely divergent bills emerging from the House and the Senate, made any deal seem impossible. But just before Congress recessed in the middle of the April, a hopeful glimpse of compromise emerged in the Senate. Under a complex deal reached by Republican and Democratic leadership, the proposal would have required illegal immigrants who had been in the country between two and five years to return to their home country briefly, re-enter the United States as temporary workers, and ultimately become eligible to seek citizenship. Illegal immigrants who had been in the United States for longer than five years would not have needed to return to their home countries, while those who had been in the United States for less than two years would have been required to leave without any assurances of returning. The Democratic leader in the Senate, Harry Reid (D-NV), praised the deal: “Even though we all feel good about [the deal], it pales in comparison to the millions and millions of people out there who today feel that they have a chance to participate in the American dream.”
Alas, the earlier predictions of legislative collapse were borne out. At almost literally the last minute, the compromise reached by Republicans and Democrats in the Senate fell apart. Republicans attributed the failure to the Democratic refusal to allow votes on amendments to the immigration bill. Democrats claimed that Republicans would have drastically altered the proposal during the conference process with the House, resulting in a final bill that would have borne little resemblance to the original Senate compromise. Many pundits suggested that an immigration deal had always been a long shot, for neither party would have been willing to grant the other a political victory during an election year. And because the deal collapsed right before a congressional recess, its failure was widely interpreted as more than just a temporary setback. Once halted, the momentum for reform would be hard to restart.
Almost universally, this legislative collapse was greeted with frustration. Indeed, that this session of Congress will likely produce no new immigration legislation represents a disappointment for Bush, for advocates on all sides of the immigration debate, and for immigrants themselves. There is, however, another way to interpret this legislative collapse. In a perfect world, Congress should accurately represent popular will. In the case of immigration, there was plenty of will to go around, on all sides of the debate. Vocal and well-organized demonstrations by immigrants and their supporters across the country took many by surprise, while the immigration debate made minor celebrities of newscasters like CNN's Lou Dobbs who railed against the United States' “broken borders.”
How, then, can this abundance of popular will be reconciled with an apparent collapse of the legislative process? It is important to remember that the U.S. system of government was created by people inherently distrustful of authority—the founders specifically wanted the policymaking process to be difficult, time-consuming, and deliberative. The process was to simultaneously convey popular will and limit its excesses. While many lamented the collapse of the Senate compromise, that deal vastly differed from the Sensenbrenner bill that had cleared the House. Even if the Senate compromise had survived, the likelihood of any legislation passing both chambers of Congress was slim. In other words, the process was difficult, time-consuming, and deliberative—just as it was supposed to be. In this particular case, however, the result was not new legislation but stalemate. After exhausting the policymaking options available at the time, could such legislative inaction actually be a desirable outcome?
Fareed Zakaria, editor of Newsweek International, suggested something along these lines in the midst of the immigration debate in Congress. Although he acknowledged that much is wrong with U.S. immigration policy—border security could be tightened, and those immigrants in the United States illegally need to somehow be better integrated into U.S. society—Zakaria also noted that things could be much worse: “Compared with every other country in the world, America does immigration superbly. Do we really want to junk that for the French approach?”
This is an important perspective that risks being overlooked amidst the fallout of the legislative collapse. Although immigration remains an urgent public policy problem, perhaps inaction represents the most sensible course available at this time. If the political stars are not properly aligned, inaction is certainly preferable to bad policy, and it can pave the way for better policy in the future. And in this election year, Senators and Congressmen are acutely aware that their political stars are ripe for realignment.
Foreign Policy Association, 27 April 2006
Posted by Daniel Widome at 10:05 AM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics
October 12, 2005
Northern dimension
I've been meaning to link to a great piece the NY Times ran earlier this week (conveniently permalinked at the IHT) that describes a budding "great game" over the Arctic Ocean and its defrosting attributes:
... [T]he Arctic is undergoing nothing less than a great rush for virgin territory and natural resources worth hundreds of billions of dollars. Even before the polar ice began shrinking more each summer, countries were pushing into the frigid Barents Sea, lured by undersea oil and gas fields and emboldened by advances in technology. But now, as thinning ice stands to simplify construction of drilling rigs, exploration is likely to move even farther north.
Last year, scientists found tantalizing hints of oil in seabed samples just 200 miles from the North Pole. All told, one quarter of the world's undiscovered oil and gas resources lies in the Arctic, according to the United States Geological Survey.
The polar thaw is also starting to unlock other treasures: lucrative shipping routes, perhaps even the storied Northwest Passage; new cruise ship destinations; and important commercial fisheries.
"It's the positive side of global warming, if there is a positive side," said Ron Lemieux, the transportation minister of Manitoba, whose provincial government is investing millions in Churchill. [emphasis mine]
Regular readers will be little surprised by any of this, though admittedly, it remains to be seen how much of the Arctic's promise will be borne out. Of course, the irony here is rich -- would the benefits of an Arctic thaw outweigh the other, most likely harmful consequences of global warming? I don't think we should rush to speed up the heat wave just to help our northern neighbors. At least not yet.
A couple of years ago, I attended a lecture by the Icelandic President, if for no other reason than that he was the Icelandic President. I remember he strived mightily to make the case for a "northern dimension" in international politics. It was a quaint argument, in a Scandinavian sort of way, but also a rather silly one. With temperatures rising and the ice cap melting, though, such a "northern dimension" might actually become relevant. Wily Nordics, they are.
Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:11 PM to Trans-geographical
September 04, 2005
Katrina thoughts
Couple thoughts about Katrina. First, I was initially turned off by comparisons of the hurricane with last December's tsunami in the Indian Ocean or even with Hiroshima. It seemed that the comparison -- of an event that killed tens to some that caused hundreds of thousands -- smacked of insensitivity and lack of perspective. But as events have transpired and the devastation of New Orleans has unfolded, my impression has changed. While the death toll likely (hopefully) won't rival that of the Asian tsunami or the Hiroshima bombing, it appears that it will number in the thousands. For those along the Gulf Coast, I can't necessarily fault them for making such extreme (if still somewhat exaggerated) comparisons.
When you consider the historical implications of this, it truly is horrifying and breathtaking. New Orleans is not a rural, infrastructure-poor locale -- it is a major U.S. city. That is has been devastated so thoroughly, and needs to be evacuated so completely, must mark an unprecedented event for the modern United States. Beyond that, New Orleans is a uniquely important U.S. city in terms of international trade and finance, as Stratfor pointed out even before Katrina made landfall:
The Port of Southern Louisiana is the fifth-largest port in the world in terms of tonnage, and the largest port in the United States. The only global ports larger are Singapore, Rotterdam, Shanghai and Hong Kong. It is bigger than Houston, Chiba and Nagoya, Antwerp and New York/New Jersey. It is a key link in U.S. imports and exports and critical to the global economy.
The Port of Southern Louisiana stretches up and down the Mississippi River for about 50 miles, running north and south of New Orleans from St. James to St. Charles Parish. It is the key port for the export of grains to the rest of the world -- corn, soybeans, wheat and animal feed. Midwestern farmers and global consumers depend on those exports. The United States imports crude oil, petrochemicals, steel, fertilizers and ores through the port. Fifteen percent of all U.S. exports by value go through the port. Nearly half of the exports go to Europe.
The Port of Southern Louisiana is a river port. It depends on the navigability of the Mississippi River. The Mississippi is notorious for changing its course, and in southern Louisiana -- indeed along much of its length -- levees both protect the land from its water and maintain its course and navigability. Dredging and other maintenance are constant and necessary to maintain its navigability. It is fragile.
And finally, I'm always intrigued by the international response to situations such as this. Interesting points so far:
- The United States has approached both NATO and the EU for assistance, which they are reportedly willing to provide.
- Many countries are pledging money directly to the American Red Cross and not to federal, state, or local governments. Considering the effectiveness of governmental relief efforts thus far, this state to non-state transfer seems smart.
- "Evil" countries such as Iran, Cuba, and Venezuela are offering relief support along with their kind words. No word yet from Kim Jong Il.
- Australia, which was fantastically (and understandably) generous with aid following the Asian tsunami, backs up its mateship with a hefty A$10 million.
- Cash offer from Afghanistan: $100,000. Cash offer from Japan: $200,000. Need I provide a GDP comparison of the two countries?
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:15 PM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics
July 10, 2005
Why they hate us
I was listening to an interview with Benjamin Netanyahu this afternoon on WBUR (sorry, can't find a link to the interview itself). Apparently, he was in London on Thursday. The timing -- horrific terrorist bombings and a hard-line Likudnik, in the same city, on the same day -- has resulted in the Israeli Finance Minister making the media rounds.
In any event, Netanyahu expounded on the seemingly age-old question regarding Islamic terrorism: do they hate us because of who we are (let's call it the "existential" argument) or because of what we do (the "practical" argument)? It's a popular question to toss around, in part because its terms are relatively straightforward, and in part because it's a rather important question. Basically, it boils down to this: do Islamic extremists attack Western targets because they hate freedom/democracy/human rights or because of hundreds of years of Western mistreatment of Muslims?
Personally, I'm more inclined to believe that bin Laden's gripe has more to do with specific U.S. actions. But more than that, I'm struck by the absolute nature of all the discussion of this question. If any pundit or scholar out there has taken a position on this question that doesn't fit within one of the two extremes, I haven't heard it. It's all too easy to boil down the motivation of one's enemies to the basest simplicities. But unlike in the hard sciences, the simplest solution isn't always the right one.
I won't go into this too deeply, in large part because this subject deserves more time than I currently have. But fundamentally, I think extremist discontent is rooted in both the existential and the practical, and that any attempt to separate the two is flawed in conception. First, the existential. Just because bin Laden, Zarqawi, et al are "evil-doers" doesn't necessarily make them liars. They are politicians just as much as any prime minister or president, though they are, of course, slightly less accountable to their constituents. So we should take their public utterances in much the same way: don't believe them ver batim, but don't discount them unless given reason to do so. Reading through bin Laden's public statements is a fascinating exercise; a pretty good compilation of them is here. In all of his statements, bin Laden issues the standard anti-West boilerplate. But in one in particular, bin Laden states specifically what he wants Americans to do -- and it sounds pretty existential:
What are we calling you to, and what do we want from you?
The first thing that we are calling you to is Islam.
[...]
The second thing we call you to, is to stop your oppression, lies, immorality and debauchery that has spread among you.
If we are to believe bin Laden is sincere in this case -- and again, we should have no more or less reason to do so than with any of Bush's or Blair's statements -- then it certainly appears that he hates the West for it is and what it represents. "Oppression, lies, immorality, and debauchery," if you will.
But in the very same statement, bin Laden makes a very strong case for the practical hatred of the West:
We also advise you to stop supporting Israel, and to end your support of the Indians in Kashmir, the Russians against the Chechens and to also cease supporting the Manila Government against the Muslims in Southern Philippines.
We also advise you to pack your luggage and get out of our lands. We desire for your goodness, guidance, and righteousness, so do not force us to send you back as cargo in coffins.
Sure sounds like a gripe against what the West actually does, don't you think?
So what to make of this? My supposition is that the most public of the "evil-doers" -- bin Laden, Zarqawi, and others -- genuinely do hate the West for what it is and for what it represents. For them, their demands can never be reasonably met, their opinions never changed. Those folks, I'm afraid, will go down fighting, no matter what policies Western states may implement.
But as I noted earlier, bin Laden is above all a politician. He needs a constituency. Most Muslims, I would like to believe, have more important things to worry about than Western decadence. Even if they don't necessarily like it, distaste is a long way from militant opposition. This vast majority of Muslims is exercised, however, by a constantly reinforced perception that the West in general, and the United States in particular, is propagating crimes against Muslims and Muslim-majority states. Perhaps worse than the crimes themselves, many sense a great deal of hypocrisy and insincerity on the part of Western governments -- their words do not come close to matching their actions. This is where scenes of Israeli soldiers in the occupied territories and of U.S. soldiers in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Afghanistan come into play. No one likes to see their kind oppressed. It is from this pool of resentment and disenfranchisement that the "evil-doer" ideologues -- the existential believers, like bin Laden -- can plant their seeds, recruit their soldiers, and otherwise take solace.
Notice I mention Saudi Arabia. The basing of U.S. soldiers in the land of Mecca and Medina was one of bin Laden's original grievances. And say what you will about Bush, but he did pull U.S. troops out of Saudi (sure, he moved them to Iraq, but who's counting). A common argument among proponents of the existential case is that 11 September predated the U.S. invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan -- how can al Qaeda complaints about those occupations be taken as legitimate grievances? That's where Saudi Arabia comes in. The general gripe is the U.S. occupation of Muslim lands. In the 1990s, that was Saudi Arabia. Today, it's Iraq and Afghanistan. The difference, while significant, is also amazingly negligible.
So while the existential believers -- those that truly hate the West -- can never be talked down from violence, the vast sea of practical believers -- those who hate specific actions of the West -- can be dealt with in creative ways. Namely, by treating their concerns and aspirations with respect, and refraining from invading their countries unless absolutely necessary. To be sure, the solution is much less glib and much more complicated than that. And even if the West changes its actions dramatically, alleviating many of the Muslim world's practical grievances, we will still be faced with the hard core of existential believers -- those who hate the West no matter what it does.
Terrorism, as commonly conceived, cannot be "defeated," as historically inherited and understood from the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay. And the reason that the "evil-doers" hate us is both for who we are and for what we do. The "war on terror," as it were, must be pursued with the fullest appreciation of this duality. In some cases, that will require a dramatic reassessment of what the West has long taken for granted. In others, it will require no change whatsoever and simply more of the steadfastness with which Bush is constantly exhorting us. It's a tricky one, there's no doubt.
One final point. Not only do proponents of the existential and the practical arguments only seem to appreciate their own viewpoint at the complete expense of the other, but the fundamental sentiments they betray is revealing. Those who argue that Islamic extremists hate the West for what it does paint a puzzle that has a solution: the West must simply change its policies. Simplistic, yes, but with the hope for a legitimate and easily defined solution. Those who argue that Islamic extremists hate the West for what it is imply no clear way out: the West isn't going to convert to Islam en masse. The only solution, in their eyes, is simply the total annihilation of Islamic extremism. As we have seen over the past 4 years, that is an exceedingly difficult chore. And thus, the existential argument is an exceedingly hopeless one.
Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:45 PM to Trans-geographical
June 25, 2005
Prophesying China, in print
Allow me to humbly point to my latest piece in the Providence Journal. For regular readers of Natural Selection, there's not much new here -- it's based in large part on ideas and language hashed out here. Regardless, check it out at the ProJo or in extended entry, if you're not into the whole registration thing.
Let me also give a special shout-out and thanks to Brian Bishop, William Touret, and everyone else at Rule Free Radio on WARL 1320 AM. Had a fine time chatting with you folks about all things "martial energy."
Daniel Widome: Beware of self-fulfilling prophecy -- U.S. should face China's rise rationally
I THINK I USED to like Robert Kaplan. Or, rather, I see value in some of his earlier works that blended travelogue, historical reflection, and political analysis. But in a recent piece in The Atlantic Monthly -- revealingly entitled "How We Would Fight China" -- Kaplan seems to have fallen victim to an all too common and particularly narrow point of view: the neo-conservative vilification of China. That he has only demonstrates how pervasive such a shortsighted perspective has become and how dangerous it is to U.S. interests.
Kaplan seems to have taken so whole-heartedly to the vilification of China that his Atlantic piece can be used as a prime example of it. He describes China's "martial energy" as "constitut[ing] the principal conventional threat to America's liberal imperium."
China's size, it's true, cannot be denied. But defining its "martial energy" as "the principal conventional threat" to U.S. interests? In today's world, that's a bold assertion.
Of course, Kaplan knows this. He tries to explain himself when he describes how China's antiquated but growing submarine fleet could threaten the U.S. Navy: "[O]ne can imagine that China could launch an embarrassing strike against us, or against one of our Asian allies." Sure, one could imagine that. One could just as easily imagine the opposite, too.
The rest of Kaplan's piece follows in this vein, demonstrating an ever-expanding fascination with China and its popularly termed "rise." In just the past few weeks, both U.S. News and World Report and Time magazine have featured cover stories on China's rise. Indeed, the country's size and influence -- and the growth of each -- are ample. The copious ink spilled in covering them is perhaps not out of proportion with their importance.
Kaplan's piece, however, represents a darker and increasingly common side of this China fascination. In China's rise, to be sure, there is reason for wariness; but Kaplan's perspective goes well beyond wariness into the realm of unnecessary fear. Increasingly, it's a perspective that pervades the media consciousness.
Such vilification derives not only from China's rise but also from an equally large vacuum in neo-conservative self-perceptions. Certain ideologies define themselves more by what they're against than by what they're for. Although the "war on terror" has provided a legitimate and unifying foe for neo-conservatives to rally around, "terror" -- insofar as it can actually be defined as an enemy -- doesn't quite fill the shoes of a big, menacing state-based opponent. In other words, al-Qaida is no Soviet Union. But China -- oppressive, militaristic and expansive -- comes much closer.
The recent China vilification has its roots in scholarly works that hypothesized the capabilities of a potentially hostile China. Neo-conservative writers and ideologues joined the bandwagon in the late 1990s, replacing scholarly conditionality with breathless certainty, and China vilification has since snowballed to its current prevalence.
A common vilification argument rests on the classical great-power theory, which holds that rising powers inevitably come into conflict with existing ones. But history and theory should be used to illuminate the future, not to blind us to its unforeseen directions. China's rise, fundamentally, is unprecedented and uncertain. Such uncertainty is naturally disconcerting for those who instinctually demand certainty and the benefits it brings.
Predicting conflict with China doesn't just provide certainty in an otherwise uncertain situation. It also justifies a range of diplomatic and military policies that would otherwise be impossible to implement. More important, a hostile China represents a self-fulfilling, self-indulgent prophecy, which justifies a faulty ideology and perpetuates the political careers that rely on it.
It is perfectly fair to ask whether China's rise poses a threat to the United States. I think it very well might -- but it also might not. Again, that's the point: China's rise is a fundamentally uncertain phenomenon.
So much of the recent thinking on China seems to move beyond the frustrating uncertainty of reality and into the convenient certainty of fantasy. But though the United States should absolutely prepare for the possibility of a hostile China, such anticipatory policies must be based on rational judgment that prioritizes genuine U.S. interests -- not on breathless vilification that prioritizes political careers and ideological impetus.
I imagine the Chinese view this phenomenon and its pervasiveness with some amusement. Whether or not they seek conflict, they must surely be pleased at being unpredictable and confounding to U.S. policy makers and citizens alike. That China's "rise" is met by such a knee-jerk, f