Daniel Widome

January 29, 2010

Nonproliferation priorities

In the year since Barack Obama's inauguration, observers of all stripes have attempted to measure his progress in office against his promise as a candidate. Invariably, a mixed impression emerges. On several prominent issues, such as Iraq and Afghanistan, Obama has largely kept to the policy pledges he made as a candidate, satisfying some and frustrating others who had hoped (or presumed) that his positions would be more malleable. On other issues, such as the closure of the Guantanamo Bay military prison, Obama clearly has failed to meet his promises. Some issues, however, did not generate much attention during Obama's election campaign but nonetheless represent an important piece of his foreign policy agenda. One such issue, highlighted in this week's state of the union speech, is nuclear nonproliferation. Although Obama placed great emphasis on the issue in his first year as president, the coming year offers several important opportunities to turn his rhetoric into action.

As a U.S. senator before his presidential run, Obama's formal exposure to foreign policy was limited. But he did sit on the Foreign Relations Committee, and in that capacity he worked closely with Senator Dick Lugar (R-IN). One of Lugar's most notable accomplishments as senator was on the Nunn-Lugar Cooperative Threat Reduction (CTR) program, created in the early 1990s to provide assistance and expertise to states of the former Soviet Union to dismantle and safeguard their nuclear weapons materials. This program was remarkably successful and has been expanded several times over the past 20 years. Obama attached himself to Lugar soon after taking office and traveled with him to Russia and Ukraine to inspect ongoing CTR activities. The two senators eventually sponsored and helped pass an expansion of the program to cover conventional weapons and to help allies detect and interdict weapons of mass destruction. As a freshman senator, CTR was not an obvious issue to champion, and seeking Lugar as a mentor was not necessarily a politically smart choice. In other words, there were no votes to be gained through nuclear nonproliferation. Obama's active interest in the issue, then, could be interpreted as sincere.

Obama did not make nuclear nonproliferation a centerpiece of his election campaign, but in his first year in office, it became much more prominent. During one of his first major international trips as president, Obama delivered a major address on nuclear nonproliferation. In Prague in April 2009, Obama called for more than just enhanced efforts to halt the spread of nuclear weapons. He stated his intention to seek the eventual abolition of such weapons altogether. Although the notion of a “world without nuclear weapons” may have seemed fanciful, Obama addressed it in realistic terms, and the speech served as confirmation that Obama intended to prioritize the issue (for more, see The Water's Edge, April 2009). Later in the year, at the opening of the UN General Assembly in September, Obama chaired a session of the Security Council that adopted a resolution calling for tighter controls on nuclear materials. And one of the principal justifications beyond Obama's Nobel Peace Prize was his commitment to nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament.

If Obama clearly stated his commitment to nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament during his first year in office, the opportunities to begin realizing that commitment will come in his second year. Domestically, the Nuclear Posture Review (NPR) is a semi-regular assessment by the Pentagon of the country's nuclear forces, strategy, and readiness. New NPRs have been conducted at the beginning of each new presidential administration since the end of the Cold War, with the last one completed under President Bush in 2002. Originally intended for release late last year, the completion of Obama's new NPR has been pushed back until March at the earliest. Reports indicate that the delay is due to tensions between the Pentagon and White House over the future role of nuclear weapons in U.S. defense strategy, and to what extent the missions of deterrence, nonproliferation, and counterterrorism will be balanced. Although Obama has stated his belief that the U.S. arsenal plays an important deterrent role, Pentagon officials believe that his desired de-emphasis of nuclear weapons in U.S. defense strategy goes too far. Tensions also have emerged over how the U.S. nuclear stockpile is remained. Obama has been steadfast in his opposition to the Reliable Replacement Warhead (RRW), a new class of nuclear weapon designed to be more reliable than existing stock. His opposition is premised on the notion that the United States cannot be an honest broker for nuclear nonproliferation if it is building new nuclear weapons itself. But legitimate concerns exist about the reliability of existing U.S. nuclear weapons, many of which are decades old and cannot be tested. If the U.S. nuclear arsenal is to remain a trusted deterrent—as all sides say they want—reliability is key. If the RRW will not be produced, how the NPR addresses stockpile maintenance, modernization, and reliability becomes even more important, and even more contentious.

Internationally, Obama will also be facing important tests of his nuclear policy. The Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START), which governed reductions in the nuclear arsenals of the United States and Russia since 1994, expired in December 2009. Under the terms of START, the maximum allowable number of nuclear warheads for each country is 2200 and the maximum allowable number of launch vehicles is 1600. In July 2009, Obama and Russian President Dimitri Medvedev issued a joint memorandum of understanding that outlined what a START successor treaty should look like. It would reduce each country's strategic nuclear arsenal to between 1500 and 1675 warheads and limit their strategic delivery vehicles to between 500 and 1100. The Obama administration had hoped to negotiate a follow-on treaty before START expired in December, but failing that, both countries agreed to continue observing the terms of the treaty until a new treaty can be finalized. But the longer the delay until a new treaty can be finalized, the more uncertain future nuclear reductions become. Accounts suggest that the main sticking points concern the terms for the verification of future reductions. Whatever form it takes, the START follow-on treaty will require Senate ratification—a challenging prospect given the current political climate. Already, several senators are threatening to link their support for a START follow-on treaty with the outcome of Obama's NPR.

Although Obama faces challenges in implementing his nuclear positions both domestically and in a bilateral setting, perhaps the most important event in the coming year will be in the multilateral realm. In May, the United States will host a Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty (NPT) Review Conference. Held every five years, NPT Review Conferences bring together every country that is party to the NPT to consider changes or amendments to the original treaty, dating from 1970. Given Obama's vocal support, the prospects for strengthening the treaty look stronger than they did five years ago. But the outcome of the conference is by no means certain, due to the fact that the NPT largely depends upon faith in a bargain that has been unevenly enforced. The NPT divides the world into Nuclear Weapons States (NWS) that are permitted to have nuclear weapons, and Non Nuclear Weapons States (NNWS) that are not. The bargain between NWS and NNWS rests upon two pillars. The NNWS agree not to pursue nuclear weapons, thus countering the proliferation of such devices. In exchange, they have the right to peacefully pursue nuclear technology. They also secured pledges from the NWS to work toward the eventual disarmament of their nuclear arsenals. Given the thousands of nuclear warheads that remain throughout the world, the disarmament pillar of the NPT is its most tenuous—a fact that has never escaped the NNWS. Obama's call for nuclear disarmament is the most explicit statement of its kind from a U.S. president, and already, it has gone a long way toward making this year's review conference a smooth one. But operationalizing this good will and strengthening the NPT will depend heavily on the final nature of Obama's NPR and on the outcome of negotiations on the START successor treaty.

The Nuclear Posture Review, the START successor treaty, and the NPT Review Conference are only the most prominent markers of nonproliferation policy this year—and all will likely be concluded before June. In addition, Obama hopes to win Senate ratification of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT) and to advance a new treaty to prohibit the production of weapons-grade nuclear materials. Surely, he will not accomplish all of these things in one year, and Obama himself has explicitly noted the long-term nature of his goal of a “world without nuclear weapons.” But real accomplishments will be needed if a skeptical world is to be convinced that Obama's lofty rhetoric of the past has a legitimate future.

Foreign Policy Association, 29 January 2010

Posted by Daniel Widome at 06:15 PM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

December 31, 2009

Nobel notions

The October announcement that Barack Obama would receive the Nobel Peace Prize surprised many. The overwhelming sense was that however promising a figure Obama might be, he hadn't yet accomplished enough to join the ranks of Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa, or Nelson Mandela. Obama himself seemed to share similar feelings of surprise and undeservedness, which he expressed both at the original announcement and more recently at his acceptance speech in Oslo, Norway. His speech, however, was notable for more than its modesty. Indeed, it was a strong statement (or re-statement) of his key foreign policy principles, and the global reaction to the speech reflected that.

For one thing, the timing was nearly as remarkable as the speech itself. Earlier that week, Obama had announced the outcome of a months-long review of U.S. policy in Afghanistan, in which he revealed his intention to send an additional 30,000 troops to that country. The irony was overwhelming -- Obama received his peace prize only days after announcing the expansion of an increasingly unpopular war. And it was not his only war, as the president duly noted. Although Obama had outlined the U.S. withdrawal from Iraq several months ago, more than 100,000 troops remain stationed in that country. Although the security situation has improved markedly, Iraq remains dangerous and unstable. A recent spate of high-casualty bombings has only served to underscore this fact, along with the Iraqi government's difficulty in passing an elections law that was a necessary precursor to an eventual U.S. withdrawal. Obama's acceptance speech also overlapped with the first week of a major climate change summit in Copenhagen, where the United States (along with other industrialized countries) faced significant criticism regarding their inaction toward addressing the problem. And of course, Obama's quick trip to Oslo fell amidst a bruising domestic debate over health care reform. This didn't add any irony to Obama's speech, but it made its substance and seriousness all the more remarkable, as it fell during period in which one might expect the president's mind to be elsewhere.

Regardless of what Obama said, then, his speech in Oslo came at a tremendously busy time for him. Despite his famed oratorical skills, it would not have been surprising if Obama had given a listless speech of little substance or issued a passing note of defensiveness regarding his recent decision to expand the war in Afghanistan. Instead, he did neither. Obama's speech -- technically a lecture, in Nobel tradition -- was a fully formed, serious articulation of his foreign policy principles. And he did not simply make a passing reference to Afghanistan. He placed Afghanistan almost at the center of his speech, as an example of a "just war" that, he argued, is sometimes necessary to maintain peace. Although embracing the emphasis on love and mutual understanding that had characterized previous winners of the Peace Prize such as King and Mother Teresa, Obama also noted that non-violence would have done nothing to stop the aggression of Nazi Germany. He rejected the false choice between realism and idealism, suggesting that human rights and democracy are important security interests but also observing that countries cannot simply impose their values on others. He underscored the importance of U.S. military force in helping to secure the peace following World War II, and he emphasized the importance of multilateral institutions and global development.

Praise for Obama's speech was remarkably widespread. Many of his supporters, both in the United States and around the world, saw in it glimpses of what drew them to Obama in the first place. It was an intellectually serious speech that spoke both of U.S. modesty but also of the country's traditional belief in the power of international institutions and in practicing its long-uttered but not-always-followed principles of human rights. It recognized the inherent complexity of issues of peace and security and expressed a sharp skepticism about the utility (and ability) of armed force to solve all security challenges. Obama also reiterated the connection between economic development in poorer countries and the national security of richer ones, which is a link emphasized by many left-leaning scholars and advocates. Conservatives, too, seemed unusually glowing in their praise. Political figures such as Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich reacted favorably to Obama's defense of the U.S. role in underwriting European security during the Cold War.

Obama's Nobel lecture was not without its detractors, however. Despite the fact that Obama directly addressed the irony of a wartime president receiving the Peace Prize, many in the United States and Europe felt that the contradiction undermined the spirit of the prize. They suggested that instead of using the speech to defend the role played by the U.S. military over the decades and to reassert the notion that war is sometimes necessary, Obama should have used the opportunity to rebut more vigorously the policies of his predecessor and announce the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan. Others suggested that he should have taken advantage of the co-incidence of his speech with (and the geographical proximity to) the climate change summit in Copenhagen. He could have reiterated not only the urgency of climate change, but also his view that it represents a security challenge, as well, and committed the United States to aggressively confronting the threat. Undergirding Obama's entire speech was the notion that the United States is a powerful country, with its own interests, and with the prerogative to defend those interests however they may be defined. As the U.S. president, this is not an extraordinary assertion for Obama to make. But as a Nobel laureate, it is. Any assertion of a privilege or right to use force, or any opinion that violence may be necessary, is anathema to the audience of a peace prize acceptance ceremony.

The most uniform characteristic of the responses to Obama's speech did not concern their substantive assessment. Implicit among the reactions, favorable and otherwise, was a remarkable sense of surprise. The surprise stemmed not from the fact that Obama has been awarded the Peace Prize -- that sentiment had peaked at the initial announcement in October -- but that the content of his speech was somehow out of character with his policies or principles. Liberal supporters in the United States and elsewhere wondered how a president who claimed to represent "change" could expand the war in Afghanistan and speak so forcefully about the occasional necessity of violent action. Conservatives were shocked to find the "socialist" darling of the left assert so unequivocally that evil existed in the world and to hear him mount such an impassioned defense of the role of the U.S. military in preserving peace and security during the Cold War.

In reality, Obama's Nobel address was perfectly in character. Substantively, it was remarkably consistent with his foreign policy pronouncements dating back to his time as an Illinois state senator. Although famous for opposing the invasion of Iraq, Obama has always been clear that he did not oppose war on principle, and that he supported the effort in Afghanistan, in particular. As U.S. senator, he did not call for an immediate withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq, which upset many of his liberal supporters who projected onto him their own ideologies. Instead, he understood the fundamental complexity of the Iraq conflict, in which the decision to invade relied on an entirely different set of evaluative metrics than the decisions about how to manage the occupation. Obama also had regularly emphasized the connection between the individual security of people in the developing world with the immediate national security interests of those in the developed world. One of the most striking characteristics of Obama's young presidency, and a point that he highlighted in Oslo, was his singular focus on nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation. This was a topic that has animated Obama for years and influenced much of his early work in the U.S. Senate. For any observer familiar with Obama's foreign policy principles, his Nobel speech was remarkable for its consistency and utter lack of surprise.

On a more fundamental level, Obama has long frustrated ideologues of all stripes, including (and perhaps especially) those of his own party. He has made a habit of challenging simplistic characterizations and of focusing sharply on the most pragmatic means for achieving his policy ends. This tendency is reflected in Obama's principles and his oratory, and at its worst, it can come across as too detached or technocratic. At its best, however, it can inspire observers to feel that even if Obama does not quite share their own beliefs, he is at least a rational, thoughtful politician who is open to differing perspectives. Judged by his own criteria, then, Obama's Nobel speech was nothing remarkable at all.

Foreign Policy Association, 31 December 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 12:24 AM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

October 22, 2009

Euro vision

The U.S. president frequently finds himself at the center of global attention. This month was no different, as speculation mounted over Barack Obama's new strategy in Afghanistan and surprise erupted over the president's unexpected Nobel Peace Prize. Beneath these stories, however, was an event that helps to explain them and will likely have significant implications for Obama's foreign policy in the coming years. Ireland voted, for a second time, on the Treaty of Lisbon. This time it passed, paving the way for a reformed European Union that will have increased clout on the world stage.

The origins of the European Union (EU) date back to the 1950s, when France, West Germany, and the Benelux countries formed the European Coal and Steel Community to centralize control of these strategic industries in member states. The effort was in direct response to the ravages of the Second World War, and it was felt that greater European integration would limit the excesses of radical nationalism and encourage peace. In the decades that followed, the institution that is now known as the EU broadened by taking in new member states and deepened by assuming greater responsibility. This seemingly inexorable trend culminated earlier this decade with the European Constitution, which would have replaced multiple, existing treaties with a single document that bound the EU more tightly together. After great effort was expended in the creation of such a comprehensive document and passed without referendum by most EU states, the voters of France and the Netherlands rejected the Constitution in 2005, pushing EU policymakers back to the drawing board.

Despite the rejection of the Constitution, many of the institutional problems that it had hoped to address remained serious challenges for the Union. As the EU expanded to include more than 20 member states, the demand for unanimity and absolute equality in decision-making became cumbersome. The Union also suffered from a “democratic deficit” in which voters felt distant and detached from EU decision-making bodies, including the popularly elected European Parliament. After several years of reflection, the member states negotiated a modified and stripped-down collection of institutional reforms known as the Lisbon Treaty. As with the Constitution (and any other EU treaty), the Lisbon Treaty required ratification by all member states. But each state had different methods of ratification. Ireland was the only member that required a referendum to approve the Lisbon Treaty, but in a vote in June 2008, Irish voters rejected it, causing great consternation across Europe. This month, Ireland held another vote on the Lisbon Treaty, and this time, Irish voters approved it, paving the way for the Treaty's near-certain adoption.

Along with a host of modifications to the EU's institutions and decision-making structures, the Lisbon Treaty would make significant changes to how the Union conducts its foreign policy. As a body in international politics, the EU has always been a unique and singular creature. Due to its common market and the combined size and wealth of its member states, the EU possesses clear economic weight. It frequently negotiates with one voice on matters of international trade, and it has its own representation at global bodies such as the G20. But the EU also consists of 27 independent countries, each of which jealously guards its foreign policy prerogatives. This is particularly true in the case of security and defense policy. When the United States invaded Iraq in 2003, the EU was sharply split on the decision, with the United Kingdom and Poland supporting the action and France, Germany, and others strongly opposed. There have been efforts to create a more coherent EU foreign policy, primarily in the form of the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), but the results have been limited by the institutional realities of the Union. These realities have existed for decades, frustrating Europe's allies. Henry Kissinger famously asked, “Who do I call if I want to call Europe?”

Right now, the answer to that question could include, at a minimum, any of three people. The highest authority of the EU is the European Council, consisting of the heads of government of the various member states. The presidency of the Council rotates among member states every six months, and during a member's presidency, its prime minister or president can present the public face of the EU. The European Commission is the executive arm of the EU, implementing and enforcing EU policies and regulations. It, too, has a president—completely unrelated to the Council presidency—that carries the weight of international recognition. (There is also a member of the Commission explicitly charged with managing External Affairs, but put that aside for a moment). In addition, the CFSP is managed by its own High Representative, who may be best positioned to represent the EU in an international setting. In short, it is difficult for the world to know who to “call” in Europe, or indeed how many people it needs conference in.

The Lisbon Treaty tries valiantly to answer Kissinger's question. It would replace the rotating, state-based EU presidency with an individual President of the European Council, elected to a two-and-a-half year term. The treaty would also combine the positions of High Representative for the CFSP and the Commissioner for External Affairs into a single EU “foreign minister,” and it would empower that position with a new External Action Service, which would essentially be an EU diplomatic corps. Member states could assign specific tasks to the new High Representative, and he or she will be able to implement commonly agreed actions. Both the Council President and the new High Representative would be selected through something called Qualified Majority Voting (QMV), which means that no single country could veto an appointment to either position. The Lisbon Treaty also clarifies the existing, complicated legal standing of the EU. Once in place, the Treaty would empower the Union with a single legal personality, making it less cumbersome for the Union to sign treaties and international agreements.

These changes are explicitly structural in nature. The EU will be granted no new foreign policy-making powers, and indeed, those foreign policies that it can implement will more strictly defined on an intergovernmental (as opposed to a supranational) basis. Essentially, the Lisbon Treaty will simply allow the EU to operate more efficiently on the world stage. That alone, however, will constitute a marked change in EU foreign policy, and this change could have important effects on Obama's foreign policy. As Obama considers the next steps in his Afghanistan strategy, one of the most important questions is whether he will order more U.S. troops to that country. Upon taking office, there was some hope that Obama would be able to convince European allies to send more soldiers and resources to Afghanistan. Such hopes have largely diminished, and in any event, the request would have been made through NATO channels. But centralizing the EU's limited foreign policy authority also centralizes its nascent security abilities. The prospect of an EU-led mission in Afghanistan is remote, especially while the security situation there remains so unstable. But it is conceivable that an EU stabilization or humanitarian mission could be useful in Afghanistan in the future, and having a single number to “call” in Europe would prove very helpful if Obama needed to coordinate that.

The treaty's reforms also might serve to amplify the EU's greatest foreign policy strength, which has always been in the realm of “soft power.” The Union has long used the prospect of membership as a carrot to induce neighboring states to reform their political, economic, and legal systems, and in doing so, it has served as force for stability in post-Cold War Europe. Its unique model of regional integration also serves as an example for similar intergovernmental bodies in South America, Africa, and Southeast Asia. Taken as a whole, the EU is the largest provider of global development funds on the world stage. Obama's recent Nobel Peace Prize was, in many ways, a reflection of the European preference for “soft power.” The award itself represents an intangible honor of immense reputational power but of limited practical import. And the justification for awarding it to Obama was, in part, his preference for the techniques of “soft power.” The citation for the prize lauded Obama's creation of a “new climate in international politics” and his capture of the “world's attention.” To be sure, the Peace Prize was granted in Norway, which is not an EU member. But pro-Obama sentiments appear to be widespread in Europe, and an empowered EU may prove to be a more useful partner for a U.S. president who speaks a language that Europeans understand and appreciate.

Despite Ireland's (second) vote, the Lisbon Treaty is not yet a reality. The sole remaining roadblock is the Czech Republic, where the parliament has approved the treaty but the strongly opposed president has deferred from signing it. The pressure on President Vaclav Klaus is intense, however, and it is unlikely that he will scuttle the treaty on his own. Once he signs the Lisbon Treaty, it will go into effect shortly thereafter, and the Council President and the High Representative can be selected. Until then, supporters of a more efficient EU—as well as a U.S. president eager for a coherent partner across the Atlantic—will need to wait a bit longer.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 October 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:44 PM to Europe, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

September 30, 2009

Missile base

Barack Obama staked his campaign for the presidency on the promise of change. The realities of governance are much different than the promises of campaigns, of course, and Obama has disappointed some supporters with the slowness or incompleteness of his “change.” This disappointment has applied even in the realm of foreign policy, where the president has much greater leeway to implement change than he does in the domestic sphere. But in many cases, Obama has broken unequivocally from the policies of his predecessor. His recent decision to cancel plans to build a missile defense system in Eastern Europe represents one of the clearest breaks from the policy of the Bush administration. Although Obama’s policy change in this case has much to recommend it, the move raises an entirely new set of risks and challenges.

Under President Bush, the United States withdrew from the 1972 Anti Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty with Russia, and the Pentagon accelerated development of ground-based, sea-based, and air-based missile defense systems. The ground-based system, consisting of missiles that can be launched to intercept incoming warheads, was deployed in Alaska in 2004 and soon afterward in California. These locations were suitable to contend with missiles launched toward the United States from North Korea. But to counter the potential threat of Iranian missiles, the Bush administration proposed deploying missile defense systems to Eastern Europe. Under the approved scheme, a radar would have been built in the Czech Republic and interceptor missiles would have been based in Poland. In addition to defending the continental United States, this plan had two important side effects. It theoretically would have offered some degree of missile defense to NATO allies in Europe. And it would have greatly upset Russia.

Russia’s reaction to the proposed locations for the European missile defense system was impassioned and, to a degree, understandable. Ostensibly, it viewed the system as destabilizing and as a potential threat to its own security, despite assurances from the Bush administration to the contrary. In reality, the system envisioned by the Bush administration—with a total of 10 interceptor missiles, to be deployed by 2017—could not possibly have defended Europe (or the United States) from a determined Russian attack. Instead, Russia’s concerns focused on the geopolitical encroachment that the U.S. missile defense system represented. Although Poland and the Czech Republic have been NATO members for years, the positioning of such important and strategic U.S. military assets in what was once Russia’s sphere of influence represented a serious affront to the former superpower. Russia had opposed NATO expansion in the 1990s for similar reasons, but it lacked the leverage to halt it at the time. In recent years, under the centralizing leadership of Vladimir Putin and amid the global rise in energy prices, gas- and oil-rich Russia has gained greater influence. Its objections to the missile defense system could not be dismissed without consequence, although the Bush administration remained committed to the program to its final days.

Obama did not radically change Bush’s plans immediately upon taking office. Indeed, during his visit to Prague in April, he reaffirmed the fundamental purpose behind the European missile defense system: “As long as the threat from Iran persists, we will go forward with a missile defense system that is cost-effective and proven.” (for more, see The Water’s Edge, April 2009). His recent decision did not so much scrap the system as it aligned it to better meet his stated criteria of effectiveness. He will no longer move forward with the plan to deploy a ground-based system in Poland and the Czech Republic. Instead, he will implement a staged deployment of missile defenses centered on the sea-based AEGIS system. This alternative presents several advantages over the ground-based system. The sea-based system is less expensive than its ground-based counterpart, and it has a more successful testing record, as well. It can be deployed in stages, first on Navy destroyers and cruisers already equipped with the system, with the initial system of defenses becoming operational in 2011—far sooner than the ground-based system’s operational date of 2017. Obama’s alternative is also more suited to the predicted nature of the Iranian threat, in which an attack with large numbers of short-range missiles is more realistic than an attack with smaller numbers of long-range missiles. Tehran’s recent testing of just such a missile further antagonized those who view it as a threat to regional and global stability.

Perhaps the most significant implication of Obama’s policy change is its effect on several bilateral relationships of real importance to the United States. Russia, quite understandably, was pleased with Obama’s decision. From a technical standpoint, sea-based interceptors are less of a threat to Russia’s faster, longer-ranged ballistic missiles than ground-based interceptors. In the later stages of Obama’s plan, missiles and radars developed from the sea-based AEGIS system will be modified and deployed, on land, in Europe. But it is likely that those facilities could be placed in the Balkans or in Turkey, where they would pose less of a geopolitical threat to Russia. Russian parliamentarians praised Obama’s plan as “a victory for common sense,” while conservatives in the United States claimed that it smacked of weakness in the face of Russian assertiveness.

A key rationale behind Obama’s plan is an updated assessment of the threat posed by Iran. Indeed, if the assessment is correct, Obama’s plan will do more to neutralize an Iranian threat than Bush’s plan, and it will do so sooner. But many had suspected (or hoped) that Obama would use missile defense as leverage to compel Russia to take a harder line with Iran. Russia has sold weapons and nuclear technology to that country, and as a member of the UN Security Council, its cooperation with U.S. efforts to stifle Iran’s nuclear ambitions is vital. When Obama announced his decision, there was no public signal that Russia would offer more explicit support for U.S. diplomatic initiatives in return. It is possible, however, that a quiet deal was made. Several days before Obama announced the change in missile defense plans, the State Department accepted an Iranian offer for multilateral talks on a wide range of issues. Nuclear matters were not among the issues listed in the Iranian offer, but the dialogue is a promising sign. Any connection between the dialogue, the change in missile defense plans, and Russian leverage is unknown. But shortly after Obama’s announcement, at the opening of the UN General Assembly in New York, Russian President Dimitry Medvedev expressed a new-found openness to tougher sanctions on Iran. Given revelations of a secret Iranian nuclear facility that same week, Russia’s cooperation may become even more important in the coming months.

It would be logical for Poland and the Czech Republic to be unhappy with Obama’s decision. They had expended political capital in consenting to the placement of missile defense systems on their territory. But more importantly, they viewed the system as a way of further anchoring their security to the United States. Russia remains an intimidating force throughout Eastern Europe, which remains dependent on Russian energy supplies. By changing U.S. missile defense plans, Poland and the Czech Republic may feel somewhat abandoned in the face of an emboldened Russia. That the plan was announced on the 70th anniversary of the Russian invasion of Poland was inauspicious and unfortunate, to say the least.

The reaction from Polish and Czech leaders, however, did not betray significant disappointment. “I received President Obama’s words and declarations with great satisfaction,” said Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, after speaking with Obama about his decision. Czech President Vaclav Klaus declared that he was, “100 percent convinced that this decision of the American government does not signal a cooling of relations between the United States and the Czech Republic.” An important component of Obama’s plan is the placement of Patriot surface-to-air missiles in Poland and the Czech Republic. Although these will not be effective against long-range ballistic missiles, they can be effective against shorter ranged missiles. And unlike the interceptors of Bush’s ground-based anti-missile system, Patriot missiles can also be effective against attacking aircraft. In any event, the later stages of Obama’s plan call for the placement of more advanced missiles derived from the sea-based system on land, and Poland and the Czech Republic remain potential locations for those weapons.

Obama’s plan, then, clearly represents change. Aside from an effectiveness standpoint, his decision will have important effects on the United States’ bilateral relationships with Russia, Iran, and its Eastern European allies. But it may have a more important effect on an issue of even greater, more global concern. In the same speech in Prague in which Obama underscored his support for European missile defense, he called for a major effort toward nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament. One of the first steps in that effort is the negotiation of a new arms control treaty with Russia. By addressing Russia’s concerns over European missile defense, Obama may have made such a treaty not only more realistic, but potentially more ambitious, as well. If that sparks a movement toward a global reduction of nuclear stockpiles, then Obama’s decision on missile defense may represent an even greater change than it first appeared.

Foreign Policy Association, 30 September 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 10:26 PM to Europe, Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

August 28, 2009

Alliance adjustment

As Japan nears its August 30 election, a political era may be nearing an end. The ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), under the leadership of Prime Minister Taro Aso, is deeply unpopular and trails badly in pre-election polls; its nearly uninterrupted 54-year reign seems to be in its final days. The opposition Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ), led by Yukio Hatoyama, stands poised to win a plurality in the lower house of Japan's Diet, giving it license to form a new government. That alone makes the election unique in modern Japanese political history. But its potential effect on Japan's foreign policy and its relations with the United States is equally unique, and a DPJ victory may lead to subtle but real changes in the Japan-United States alliance.

Japan has been a close ally of the United States since the end of Word War II. U.S. forces occupied the country until a formal treaty of surrender came into effect in 1952, and ever since, the United States has maintained a significant military presence in Japan. The transition from wartime enemy to peacetime ally largely was driven by the Cold War. Taking advantage of Japan's strategic position and the long-standing aversion to Communism among its ruling class, the United States found a useful and valuable ally to counter Soviet influence in the Pacific region. The long-term presence of U.S. military bases could partly be justified by Article 9 of Japan's post-war constitution, which formally prohibited an offensive military force and only permitted “self-defense” forces. Without the burden of maintaining an extensive military apparatus, Japan was able to focus its post-war economic development on export-driven growth. Its economic success since World War II can partly be attributed to its alliance with the United States.

The LDP initially came to power as a strong supporter of the U.S. alliance, and the strength and stability of the partnership has helped sustain its longevity in office. For decades, the success of the alliance with the United States—together with a growing economy and low unemployment—seemed to justify LDP rule. But as the party grew comfortable in its power and success, it increasingly fell victim to corruption and controversy. A series of scandals in the 1980s were navigated with savvy leadership changes, cabinet shuffles, and coalition building. Economic stagnation and the end of the Cold War in the 1990s, however, posed real threats to the LDP, as the growth and stability that had justified its leadership and fractured its political opposition began to wane.

Instead of succumbing to an outside rival, the LDP elevated Junichiro Koizumi to the premiership in 2001. Koizumi led a reform-minded faction within the party that advocated, among other things, a more assertive foreign policy. He was close personally with President Bush, and he deployed Japanese troops to support U.S. occupation efforts in Iraq. He also deployed Japanese refueling ships to aid U.S. naval efforts in the war in Afghanistan. Although Japanese forces were tightly constrained in both missions, these missions generated a great deal of controversy in Japan. Koizumi was adamant in his support of these missions, however, and they were but a piece of his iconoclastic and relatively reformist agenda. He attempted to change the LDP from within, and by appealing to voters directly, he was able to lead the party to a significant electoral victory in 2005. But since Koizumi stepped down in 2006, a succession of short-lived and increasingly unpopular LDP prime ministers has followed. Taro Aso has become known for his erratic and detached behavior, and approval ratings for his cabinet hover around 20 percent.

All signs point to a DPJ victory on August 30. In part, this is due to difficult economic conditions and to the dwindling patience for LDP rule. One consequence of a DPJ victory would be the humbling burden of responsibility that faces any party that moves from perpetual opposition to first-time governing. This transition would be particularly acute for the DPJ, as the LDP's bold on power has been so strong and persistent in recent Japanese history. In a general sense, the DPJ has emphasized the need for a more “equal partnership” in the U.S.-Japan alliance. Indeed, during Koizumi's tenure in office, the DPJ expressed opposition to the naval refueling mission in Afghanistan. But as victory has become more plausible in recent months, the clarity that comes from permanent opposition has seemed become more muddled. Early in the campaign, Hatoyama was unclear about whether he would end or continue the refueling mission if the DPJ won a governing plurality in the Diet. Since then, he has clarified his party's position: he will not end the mission immediately, but he will not seek to renew the law that authorized the mission when it expires in January. This is less extreme than positions offered by the DPJ in the past, but it represents a clear departure from the policy of the LDP.

On many issues of policy, though, the LDP and the DPJ hold remarkably similar positions. The main battleground in the election is Japan's administrative structure and the political culture that has sustained it. Although Japan is nominally a multiparty democracy, the pervasiveness and perseverance of the LDP has seemed to suggest otherwise. The LDP has maintained its decades-long dominance with an interdependent web of relationships between big businesses, powerful bureaucracies, and dynastic politicians. This web has proven remarkably resilient, as money, influence, and careers circulate through it with ease. But this powerful system also obscures lines of political accountability and is prone to inefficiency and corruption. The DPJ pledges to reform this system, curtail the influence of bureaucrats, and promote a “politician-led” government in which the real policymakers are accountable to voters and not entrenched in ministries. For the DPJ, structural reforms are the prerequisites for real policy change and for a politics that “values people above concrete projects.”

In that sense, the victor in Japan's election will be unlikely to radically change the nature of the alliance with the United States. The two countries will remain strong allies with many of the same interests in East Asia and around the world. But if the DPJ wins, as appears likely, the Obama administration may find itself facing a slightly different tone emanating from the new government in Tokyo. The DPJ will be keen to prove its independence both from the LDP's time-honored ways but also, to some degree, from the perception of dependence on the United States. Already, policymakers in Japan feel some anxiety toward an Obama administration that has seemed to identify China as the key state in East Asia. This anxiety was heightened with Obama's choice for U.S. ambassador to Japan. Many had expected the appointment to go to Joseph Nye, a widely respected international relations scholar with extensive government experience and ample knowledge of Japan. Instead, Obama selected John Roos, a prominent fundraiser during his election campaign with little grounding in international diplomacy. None of this will dramatically change or upset the U.S.-Japan alliance. But if the DPJ is victorious on August 30, the new U.S. ambassador's job may suddenly become a bit more interesting.

Foreign Policy Association, 27 August 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:01 AM to Asia, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

July 25, 2009

Copenhagen countdown

One of the more popular critiques of the Obama administration suggests that the president is taking on too many challenges at once. If nothing else, it is a reflection of the high level of activity emanating from the new administration. The pace has not slowed down during the summer, either domestically or internationally. At home, Obama is pushing Congress to produce health care legislation within the next few weeks. Abroad, the president's latest trip took him to Russia to advance, among other things, his stated goal of a world free of nuclear weapons (for more, see The Water's Edge, April 2009). But in the margins of each initiative, progress was made on another big ticket item. In the House of Representatives and at the G8 summit in Italy, dramatic action was taken on the issue of climate change.

On June 26, the House passed the American Clean Energy and Security Act (ACES) by a vote of 219-212. The bill contained a host of provisions, including energy efficiency requirements and mandates that electricity producers generate a certain portion of their energy from renewable sources. But at the heart of the bill was a scheme to cap greenhouse gas emissions in the United States and to establish a market in which emissions credits—essentially, permits to pollute—can be traded between producers who cannot meet the cap and those who exceed it. The “cap” portion of the bill would lower greenhouse gas emissions in the covered industries to 17 percent below 2005 levels by 2020 and to 83 percent below those levels by 2050. The passage of ACES in the House is a remarkable achievement, inconceivable only a few months ago. Climate change legislation was a key plank of Obama's domestic agenda, and the House action represents a significant victory for the president.

Two weeks later, fresh from his arms reduction talks in Moscow, Obama met with the leaders of the Group of Eight industrialized nations in Italy. Together with the leaders of Brazil, China, Mexico, South Africa, and other large developing countries, the G8 met as the Major Economies Forum on Energy and Climate. There, leaders pledged to keep global temperatures from rising more than 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit over pre-industrial levels and to work together to “identify a global goal for substantially reducing global emissions by 2050.” The leaders also agreed to cooperative on developing technologies to help countries adapt to the effects of climate change; to increase investment in low-carbon, climate-friendly technologies; and to financially support developing countries in these and other climate change efforts.

In reality, though the successes on climate issues were fleeting at best and illusory at worst. The ACES bill in the House was wildly contentious. It barely achieved a majority, and 44 Democrats voted against it, while only eight Republicans voted in favor. At over 1,300 pages in length, the bill was loaded with special exceptions and provisions that made little policy sense but were necessary to secure enough votes for passage. Many economists and environmentalists have argued that a straightforward tax on carbon emissions would be simpler and more efficient than a complex cap-and-trade scheme. Even among those who support this method, many insist that the government should auction the emissions credits and use the proceeds to reduce taxes or invest in clean energy research. Instead, ACES initially gives 85 percent of the emissions credits away to industry (although this figure declines over time). And if the fight for passage was difficult in the House, the prospects in the Senate are even worse. Should any bill clear that chamber, it likely will be weaker than the House version, further angering environmentalists, scientists, and everyone else who argues for strong, urgent action.

In Italy, the apparent victory was even more hollow. The G8 has been talking about climate change for years, and reaching agreement on broad goals and aspirations has never been the real challenge. The difficulty has long rested in the conflicting views of developed and developing countries. Since the dawn of industrialization, it has been the developed countries that have generated the most greenhouse gasses. But the carbon emissions of large developing countries, such as China and India, are growing rapidly. These countries resent being held to the same limits as the developed countries because they have an economic imperative to grow. A cap on carbon emissions would stunt their growth and place them under restrictions that the developed countries never faced during their period of rapid industrialization. One of Obama's goals in Italy was to forge a consensus between the leading developed and developing countries on this issue. His proposal would have called for worldwide emissions to be cut 50 percent by 2050, with developed nations cutting their emissions by 80 percent. But this plan fell apart due to disagreements over interim emissions goals and over promises of financial and technical assistance to developing countries. UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon was uncharacteristically critical, noting that the commitments made at the G8 meeting were “welcome, [but] not sufficient.” But even had an agreement been reached, it hardly would have been binding on the G8 nations or on their negotiating partners in Italy. The limited agreement that was reached is just as illusory.

Of course, it was more than just Obama or his recent election that prompted this spate of climate change action. In part, the pace urgency of policy change will continue to accelerate, if only due to the science and scope of the problem. More immediate, however, is the United Nations Climate Change Conference that will take place in Copenhagen in December. This conference is a follow-on to the Kyoto conference in 1997, and its goal is to produce tighter and more enforceable global emissions standards. A major point of contention in Copenhagen will be the very same divide between developed and developing countries that emerged at the G8 meeting in Italy. In many ways, Copenhagen is driving all policy action regarding climate change, not only on the international level, but domestically, as well. If developing countries are to agree to emissions limits, they will need to trust that developed countries will make sacrifices of their own. In a sense, climate is a quintessential public good. All countries benefit from its health, but no one is willing to pay exclusively for its maintenance. Communal sacrifice—both the perception thereof and the reality—is necessary for this public good to be maintained, or even saved. If there is any hope of convincing developing countries to forego the cheapest, dirtiest path to economic development for the sake of stopping global warming, developed countries must make a genuine commitment to pay their fair share.

In this sense, both the House passage of ACES and the G8's pronouncements in Italy are crucially important, even if neither action really changed any policy. The symbolism of these actions counts for a great deal, and it contributes to the growing momentum leading up to the Copenhagen meeting. The United States never ratified the Kyoto protocol, and without worldwide application, it cannot be considered a success. Since Kyoto, the problem of climate change has only become more certain, more urgent, and more real; the stakes at Copenhagen are immeasurably greater. Climate change legislation in the United States remains uncertain, as does any concerted action on the part of the leading industrialized nations. But if the realization spreads throughout the developed world that climate change must be addressed, and that sacrifices must be made, the prospects for success in Copenhagen will be much greater. The policy symbolism of recent weeks, however, is absolutely necessary but not nearly sufficient. Sooner or later, the symbolism must translate into action.

Foreign Policy Association, 23 July 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:36 AM to Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

June 27, 2009

Subtle timing

In the past month, a quick succession of events has occurred that could significantly change the U.S. relationship with countries in the Middle East. Notable speeches by U.S. President Barack Obama and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and important elections in Lebanon and Iran all occurred within a span of weeks. To a certain extent, the timing is coincidental, and the events largely unrelated. But they are connected, and the connection could have meaningful long-term consequences in the region.

During his election campaign, Barack Obama pledged to deliver a major speech on U.S. relations with the Islamic world from the capital of a Muslim country within the first 100 days of his administration. Although Obama's June 4 speech in Cairo missed his 100-day target (his April address to the Turkish parliament in Ankara apparently didn't count), it did not underwhelm in scope or ambition. Seeking a “new beginning between the United States and Muslims around the world, one based on mutual interest and mutual respect,” Obama stressed points of common interest between the United States and Islam. Although he reiterated his intention to pursue “violent extremism” and his view that the danger posed by al Qaeda is not an “opinion to be debated [but a] fact to be dealt with,” Obama also emphasized that the United States did not seek permanent military bases in Iraq or Afghanistan. He stressed the commonalty of themes such as democracy, women's rights, and economic development, and he sprinkled his speech with references to the Koran. The White House promoted the speech heavily and went to great lengths to ensure its translation and dissemination in languages and technologies widely used in the Muslim world. Reaction to Obama's speech was generally positive, with the main caveat that his conciliatory words needed to be translated into real action.

Just a few days after Obama's speech, on June 7, Lebanon held widely anticipated parliamentary elections. Long seen as a comparatively sophisticated and diverse corner of the Middle East, Lebanon has been wracked intermittently by civil war and outside intervention since the 1980s. The assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri in 2005 led to a popular uprising that drove occupying Syrian forces from the country. In 2006, Israel waged a war against Hezbollah, a militant and political organization based in Lebanon that is popular among the country's Shia population and that receives significant support from Iran. Last year, a power-sharing crisis boiled over into open conflict between Hezbollah and the Lebanese government. The June 7 election was seen not only as an important opportunity for the Lebanese to cast their votes, but also as a proxy in a wider contest of popular opinion between Iran (which supported Hezbollah) and the United States (which preferred a coalition led by Rafik Hariri's son, Saad). Hariri's coalition won more seats than the Hezbollah-led coalition, representing at the very least a perceived setback for Iranian and Sryian influence in Lebanese politics.

Among the closest observers of Obama's speech in Cairo was Israel. Concern about the steadfastness of Obama's support for Israel predates even his election, and many Israelis wondered if Obama would sacrifice U.S. support for Israel in his address to the Muslim world. Obama made no such sacrifice, and he reiterated the United States' strong and “unbreakable” bond with Israel. He did, however, express his opposition to Israeli settlements in the West Bank. On June 14, Israel's newly elected prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, delivered his own notable speech, in which he endorsed the creation of a Palestinian state. This was the first public endorsement of its kind for Netanyahu, who had developed a hawkish reputation during his previous stint as prime minister and in his recent election campaign. Netanyahu's endorsement was far from complete, however. It was conditional on the demilitarization of the new Palestinian state and on the recognition of Israel as a Jewish state, with Jerusalem as its capital. These conditions likely will not form the basis of an ultimate settlement. But the statement represented a notable shift in tone, if not necessarily in substance.

Potentially the most significant event in recent weeks is still ongoing. On June 12, Iranians went to the polls to elect a new president. In many ways, Iran lies at the heart of the U.S. relationship with the Middle East. Iran's nuclear program is of constant concern to the United States and its allies, and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has spoken openly of his desire to destroy Israel. Iran supports militant groups such as Hamas and Hezbollah, and it exerts influence in Iraq and Afghanistan. It also possesses significant quantities of oil, and it borders the strategic Straits of Hormuz. Most importantly, Iran has a long history of resentment toward the United States. The 1979 Islamic revolution was partly fueled by anger at the United States' long support of the Shah, and the revolution has served as inspiration for militant Islamic movements around the world. On June 12, Ahmadinejad faced off against an array of opponents, the most significant being Mir Hossein Mousavi, a conservative former prime minister who experienced a tremendous surge of support among reform-minded Iranians. The official tabulation showed Ahmadinejad winning with 63 percent of the vote—a far more lop-sided outcome than had been expected, and one that seemed rigged by the authorities. Since then, Iran has experienced its largest wave of protests since 1979. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran's Supreme Leader, has been resolute in resisting calls for a new election and in upholding Ahmadinejad's declared victory. The outcome of the election and the protests remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: this episode has unequivocally changed the nature of Iranian politics.

Individually, each of these events would have been significant and noteworthy. And to a certain degree, their clustering within a few weeks was the result of chance—the elections in Lebanon and Iran, in particular, were not scheduled to coincide with each other. But the scheduling of speeches is much more flexible than the scheduling of elections. Netanyahu, for example, likely scheduled his speech to follow Obama's. The prime minister had already received pressure from Obama on the question of settlements in the West Bank. It was important for him to address this pressure, and politically, it was useful for him to present a conciliatory front, if only as a negotiating tactic or to throw his rivals off-balance. Before he could do so, however, Netanyahu needed to see what Obama would say in his much-anticipated Cairo speech.

Indeed, it was Obama's speech in Cairo—the first in this sequence of events—that was most amenable to strategic timing. Obama seems well-aware of the symbolic value of his own election, not only in the United States but around the world. In part, this value rests upon the fact that he is not George W. Bush. But it also comes from his unique background, and to the role that his background can play in challenging negative misconceptions of the United States. Obama's campaign pledge to give a major address in a Muslim capital recognized this. Any U.S. president can address a Muslim audience. But only Obama could do so as a president with an international background, a childhood spent in a majority-Muslim country, and a middle name like “Hussein.” Obama likely knew the impact his speech could have in the Middle East, and he surely knew when Lebanon and Iran were holding their elections. Although the administration denies it, the timing of Obama's speech on the eve of these elections may have been very deliberate.

This doesn't mean that Obama's speech in Cairo was responsible for the victory of Hariri's coalition in Lebanon, or for the upheaval and uncertainty following Iran's election. But even if it had no direct effect, Obama's speech may have indirectly helped to preclude a more negative outcome, from the U.S. perspective. The Bush administration was very unpopular in the Middle East, and although Obama's election was a hopeful sign, there was little concrete evidence that his approach would be much different. His speech in Cairo reiterated to voters throughout the Middle East that his administration would a much more willing partner with receptive regimes. In other words, the promises made by reform-minded candidates in Lebanon and Iran would be much more realistic and achievable with President Obama in office. Elections and speeches, however, are only the first steps toward successful policies. Until the situation in Iran stabilizes, it is far too soon to judge Obama's timing.

Foreign Policy Association, 25 June 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 02:40 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

April 23, 2009

Zero nukes?

Barack Obama's recent trip to Europe and the Middle East was an important moment in his young presidency. Having spent much of his term so far focused on the deteriorating economy and other domestic concerns, Obama's trip to the G-20 summit in London, to a NATO meeting in France and Germany, to an EU meeting in Prague, and finally to Turkey and Iraq was the president's first intensive exposure to foreign policy. By most accounts, he met or exceeded expectations. Most notable, however, was Obama's public address in Prague, in which he declared the U.S. commitment to a “world without U.S. nuclear weapons.” Long after the world forgets about the rest of his European trip, it may be Obama's speech on nuclear weapons that endures.

At first glance, seeking a “world without nuclear weapons” may seem naïve, at best. Clearly, nuclear weapons are immensely destructive tools of state (or potentially, non-state) power. Having less of a destructive thing naturally would seem good. But nuclear weapons cannot simply be “wished” away. The fundamental principles underlying nuclear weapons are widely known, and the technology and expertise to develop nuclear technology has spread extensively over the past 60 years—such knowledge and technology cannot be “un-invented.” In addition, it is possible that nuclear weapons can provide a degree of strategic stability to the international system. Consider, for instance, the fact that no global conflict akin to the World Wars has taken place since nuclear weapons have been developed. Nuclear weapons may have raised the potential cost of war to such a degree that would-be aggressors thought twice about initiating hostilities. Although the Cold War was a period of intensive diplomatic and ideological struggle, the United States and the Soviet Union never engaged in a full-scale military conflict. If neither country had possessed nuclear weapons, the Cold War might have become much hotter.

If Obama's “zero nukes” posture was naïve to some, it was outright dangerous to others. For decades, the United States has negotiated arms reduction treaties with the Soviet Union and Russia. These treaties stipulated that both parties reduced their nuclear arsenals in a pre-determined, synchronized, and verifiable fashion. This was important for several reasons. As with any armament, the relative balance of forces between two rival states has a significant effect on the stability of their relationship. If two states are evenly matched, or if an imbalance in one category of armament is offset by an inverse imbalance in another category, neither state is likely to initiate hostilities with the other. But the consequences of an imbalance in nuclear forces are much greater than those of an imbalance in tanks or planes. If a country felt that the balance of nuclear forces had tilted in its favor, it might become more inclined to launch a first strike. For this reason, the United States and the Soviet Union always tried to reduce their arsenals in sync with each other, so that the relative nuclear balance was maintained even while the number of weapons was cut. As much as Obama may wish to rid the world of nuclear weapons, and as easily as he could cut the U.S. arsenal unilaterally, such an action would be ill advised. An uncoordinated and unilateral disarmament could radically destabilize the international system, and make the United States (and other countries) less safe.

Critics of Obama's Prague declaration, then, have a clear, logical argument. But that does not necessarily mean it is correct. Obama included a hefty dose of realism in his speech. He acknowledged that the objective of zero nuclear weapons “will not be reached quickly—perhaps not in my lifetime.” He also matched his seemingly lofty goal with concrete steps to achieve it. Obama pledged to reduce the role of nuclear weapons in the U.S. national security strategy and to work with Russia on a new round of arms reduction negotiations. He also promised to push for Senate ratification of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), which the United States has signed but which a Republican-led Senate refused to ratify in 1999. Obama also advocated a treaty that would end the production of fissile material that could be used in nuclear weapons.

The steps Obama proposed were specific and pragmatic, but on their own, they were nothing new. In his first term as president, George Bush had agreed on disarmament objectives with then-Russian President Vladimir Putin. President Clinton signed the CTBT in the 1990s and the Senate debated the treaty extensively (and in a partisan manner) almost ten years ago. For years, disarmament experts have advocated a Fissile Material Cut-Off Treaty (FMCT) that would prohibit the production of fissile material for nuclear weapons. Beyond the apparent lack of novelty of Obama's proposals, it is unclear if they would make meaningful progress toward achieving his stated goal of a nuclear-free world. It is difficult to envision the United States and Russia reducing their arsenals to zero anytime soon, and a simple ban on nuclear testing would not eliminate the weapons that already exist. A verifiable FMCT would probably limit the proliferation of nuclear weapons, but like the CTBT, what would it do for the nuclear weapons that already exist?

These critiques may be valid, but they are equally shortsighted. The nuclear arsenals of the United States and Russia are far larger than any other state's. Each country possess thousands of warheads, while the arsenals of the United Kingdom, France, China, India, Pakistan, Israel, and North Korea each number in the hundreds at the very most. For this reason, most of the major nuclear arms reduction treaties have been exclusively between the United States and Russia. But as these two countries reduce their arsenals, they may eventually count their warheads not in the thousands, but in the hundreds. At that point, they will have rough parity with the other nuclear states, and the arms reduction playing field will become more equitable. Instead of being bilateral affairs, arms reduction treaties could include more of the world's nuclear powers, if not all of them. This would make every nuclear warhead in existence eligible for a negotiated elimination.

Even U.S. action on multilateral treaties such as the CTBT and a potential FMCT could be very meaningful. For the past 40 years, the foundation of nuclear disarmament diplomacy has been the Non Proliferation Treaty (NPT). The NPT essentially splits the world into two camps: the Nuclear Weapons States (NWS), which include the United States, Russia, the United Kingdom, France, and China; and the Non-Nuclear Weapons States (NNWS), which includes everyone else. The treaty formalizes an implicit bargain: if the NNWS pledge not to seek nuclear weapons, the NWS will work towards global disarmament. As Iran and North Korea have pursued nuclear weapons, the great emphasis has been on the nonproliferation provisions of the NPT. Often overlooked, however, are the pledges of the NWS to work toward the disarmament of their nuclear arsenals. If the NWS, including the United States in particular, are seen to be shirking their disarmament obligations under the NPT, the NNWS may become less inclined to cooperate on international nonproliferation efforts. Even worse, they may decide that the NPT represents a hypocritical bargain and abandon the regime altogether. This is all to suggest that U.S. participation in, and leadership of, multilateral nonproliferation diplomacy can have ripple effects beyond the literal power of the treaty itself. By sheer power of example, the United States can nudge the world in the direction of gradual disarmament.

In a general sense, Obama's speech should been seen as much as a political speech as a policy one. By clearly signaling his policy preferences, he removed a great deal of ambiguity about U.S. national intentions. That ambiguity can only be eliminated through the direct, specific policy actions that Obama outlined. Even then, the world may not be free of nuclear weapons, as Obama readily acknowledged. But just because a goal is unattainable does not mean it should not be pursued. Even if the world cannot rid itself of nuclear weapons, surely it would be a better place with fewer of them, especially if the reductions came about in a verifiable, deliberate, and multilateral manner. In this sense, the goal of global disarmament is similar to the goal of “energy independence.” It is exceedingly unlikely that the United States could reduce its energy imports to zero, but if the goal serves as motivation and inspiration to pursue clean energy technologies, conservation, and efficiency, then it is a worthy political tool applied to desirable policy ends. And that, if nothing else, is what Obama's Prague speech may come to represent, long into the future.

Foreign Policy Association, 23 April 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:38 PM to Europe, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

March 27, 2009

Nuclear empathy

In his first months as president, Barack Obama's focus necessarily has been on the rapidly deteriorating economic situation. But while he grapples with unexpected and fast-moving domestic issues, certain timeless international challenges remain, Iran foremost among them. Although the danger posed by Iran's nuclear intentions is real and prone to unexpected developments, the fundamental parameters of the situation have remained the same for several years. Obama, then, faces a choice. He could base his policy on the unchanging, long-term fundamentals of the situation, or he could respond to the rapidly changing, short-term shifts in assessments and expectations. Obama has already hinted at which tack he prefers, but may find himself constrained by forces beyond his control.

George Bush famously included Iran in his “axis of evil” in 2002, and although the country's nuclear ambitions preceded that date, international interest in its nuclear program certainly increased afterward. Iran's long history of antagonism and resentment toward the United States—from the CIA's meddling in its internal politics in the 1950s, to the Islamic Revolution and the hostage crisis in the 1970s, to the country's support of anti-U.S. and anti-Israel terrorist groups from the 1980s to today—mean that its nuclear intentions are certainly to be of great concern to any U.S. president. That Iranian leaders have regularly referred to the United States as “the Great Satan” and spoken hypothetically about the destruction of Israel has not done much to alleviate fears.

Intelligence about the real progress of the Iranian nuclear program, however, is far less certain. Iran clearly has a nuclear program, but it has consistently declared its ambitions to be peaceful in nature and fully within its rights under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). In 2007, a U.S. National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) declared that Iran had halted its nuclear weapons program in 2003. But the Obama administration has made clear that it suspects Iran is still pursuing nuclear weapons. During his confirmation hearings, CIA Director Leon Panetta said that he had “no question that they are seeking [weapons] capability.” Obama himself has spoken of Iran's “development of a nuclear weapon.” Last month, an inspection report from the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) concluded that Iran has acquired a sufficient amount of low-enriched uranium to produce a single, crude bomb. Understandably, this caused a great deal of anxiety, especially among those who have always been skeptical of Iranian intentions. But shocking headlines overwhelmed the nuance of the report. To produce a bomb, Iran would need to process its low-enriched uranium to make highly enriched uranium—something that would take several years and require the eviction of the IAEA inspectors already in place in Iran.

During the election campaign, Obama differentiated himself from his Democratic and Republican rivals by promoting a more open and transparent engagement of potential U.S. rivals. So far, he has largely kept that promise. This month, on the occasion of the Iranian New Year, he recorded a video message that was meant to directly address the Iranian people. In the message, Obama emphasized common traits that Americans and Iranians shared, in an empathetic tone very similar to many of his own campaign themes: “You will be celebrating your New Year in much the same way that we Americans mark our holidays—by gathering with friends and family, exchanging gifts and stories, and looking to the future with a renewed sense of hope.” He also spoke clearly about the approach he planned to pursue, noting that his “administration is now committed to diplomacy that addresses the full range of issues before us, and to pursuing constructive ties among the United States, Iran and the international community.” Perhaps most notably, he expressed the U.S. desire for “the Islamic Republic of Iran to take its rightful place in the community of nations.” This was a remarkable gesture of respect because U.S. presidents traditionally have not formally or publicly acknowledged the Islamic government of Iran or referred to the country by its formal name.

Iran's supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, responded to Obama's message in relatively short order. As might be expected, he did not embrace the president's gesture wholeheartedly. “They chant the slogan of change but no change is seen in practice,” Khamenei noted, perhaps mocking Obama's famous campaign theme. He cited specific changes that have yet to be made: “Has your hostility towards the Iranian nation changed? … Have you unblocked Iran's assets [frozen in US banks]? Have you lifted the oppressive sanctions? Have you stopped insulting us and making accusations against our great nation and its leaders? Have you stopped your unconditional support for Israel?” Such rhetoric, however, does not mean Obama's gesture was fruitless. Iran's leaders have their own domestic political concerns; although the United States is popular among many younger Iranians, the conservative, hard-line constituency is still vitally important to the reigning political and clerical establishment. Indeed, Khamenei did not entirely rebuff Obama's message. He noted that Iran has “no prior experience of the new president of the American republic and of the government, and therefore we shall make our judgment based on his actions.” In other words, Iran would respond to U.S. actions, and not just its words. This is an entirely reasonable response, and it is in the nature of diplomacy that “words” almost always precede meaningful “actions.” Obama's message, then, might not have been made in vain.

The United States, however, is not the only country with a serious interest in Iran's nuclear program. Literally and figuratively, Israel is far closer to the core issues surrounding Iran's nuclear program than the United States. It is the only Middle Eastern country that possesses a nuclear arsenal, and although it is clearly intended as a deterrent against attacks, Israel's Muslim neighbors view it in a far more offensive light. Iran's leaders have long spoken explicitly about their desire to destroy Israel, and the country actively supports anti-Israel militant groups such as Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in the Palestinian territories. Whereas the United States may see a nuclear-armed Iran as a nuisance, Israel sees it as an existential threat. The respective thresholds of action for the United States and Israel, therefore, are very different. The Iranian nuclear program may well reach a point at which Israel sees preventative military action as necessary, while the United States perceives more room for diplomacy and sanctions. The conflicting interpretations of the latest IAEA report highlight the risks here: no one can say with any certainty how close Iran is to acquiring a nuclear weapon. And where some might see the potential for diplomacy and negotiation in such uncertainty, others (in Israel, in particular) see a mortal threat.

Obama, then, faces no easy choices. In Iran, he is presented with a country with a long history of antagonism toward the United States that might be close to acquiring weapons of mass destruction. Or, because the intelligence is often so ambiguous, it might not be so close. On top of that, his closest ally in the region threatens to upend his diplomatic initiatives due to very different perceptions of the same threat. He cannot disregard Israeli concerns, but at the same time, there is no scenario under which a preventative military strike against Iran would have a clearly positive outcome. Obama's tack, so far, appears sound. It is a tentative, flexible, but definitive break with the aggressive rhetoric of George Bush. He applied his potent skills of empathy by speaking directly to the Iranian people in a way that may be interpreted as more sincere than the words of his predecessor; if it has not yielded immediate results, it quite possibly has laid the groundwork for future progress. Obama would be well advised to expand his application of empathy beyond the Iranian people and toward the Iranian leadership. Consider their situation: Iran is surrounded by nuclear powers locally (Israel, Pakistan), regionally (India, Russia), and internationally (U.S. forces based in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the Persian Gulf). It is a country with a long and proud history that has regularly been squeezed and exploited by outside powers. Essentially, the Iranian regime is insecure. But they are also smart. They witnessed what happened when a U.S. adversary did not possess nuclear weapons (the invasion of Iraq) and what happened when a U.S. adversary did possess such weapons (the acquiescence to the North Korean nuclear program).

If Obama applied his unique skills of empathy in this manner, what might he find? Clearly, fewer nuclear weapons are better than more. But he must define U.S. objectives in a rational manner. Does he seek to prevent Iran from developing nuclear weapons? Or does he seek to prevent Iran from acquiring the capacity to develop nuclear weapons? These are very different policy thresholds, and each demands a very different technical, diplomatic, and military approach. Obama, then, must not only apply his ample skills of empathy in dealing with Iran's leaders, but also a clear-headed assessment of what the U.S. interest really is, and how best to achieve it. In this sense, Iran is no different than any other foreign policy challenge. But of course, the stakes are much higher, and Obama's margin for error is that much slimmer.

Foreign Policy Association, 26 March 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:40 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

February 26, 2009

Diplomatic celebrity

The first full month of Barack Obama's presidency was dominated by a debate over the economic downturn and by the administration's ultimately successful effort to pass a stimulus bill. But as the new president made his mark on the domestic front, he also began to introduce his administration to the international community. Hillary Clinton went on her first official trip as secretary of state, and her choice of destinations—and her performances there—offer clues as to how the new administration will conduct its foreign policy.

Clinton's inaugural overseas trip took her to Japan, Indonesia, South Korea, and China. The choice of Asia for her first trip is notable. It reflects the emerging view that East Asia is a region of tremendous growth and dynamism, in terms of economics, demographics, and security. There was a time when the most important U.S. allies—and the first destination for a new secretary of state—would be in Europe. Japan and South Korea are strong U.S. allies, and a visit to their capitals represents a useful maintenance of that relationship. Indonesia is the world's largest Muslim-majority country and a burgeoning democracy, not to mention the boyhood home of the new U.S. president. Clinton is wise to take advantage of the President Obama's popularity in Indonesia, and the United States has a clear interest in strengthening that country's relatively young democracy. And China represents perhaps the most important bilateral U.S. relationship today, with the ongoing (and largely false) choice between treating the country as an ally or an adversary dominating many headlines. Any tour of East Asia that did not include China would be unthinkable.

Substantively, Clinton's trip was noteworthy as well. Before departing, Clinton laid out the broad objectives of her trip. She hoped to encourage the resumption of the Six-Party Talks with North Korea and to pursue cooperative efforts on climate change policies, especially with China. She also stressed the particular importance of the State Department's work on one the so-called “three D's” of national security --defense, diplomacy and development. “Too often, development is regarded as peripheral to our larger foreign policy objectives. This will not be the case in the Obama Administration. We will energetically promote development around the world … which we happen to believe will advance our shared security interests,” Clinton said Compared to much of the rest of the world, however, many countries in East Asia did not clamor eagerly for a change in U.S. presidents or policies. President Bush got along well with conservative governments in Japan and Australia, he championed a controversial nuclear agreement with India, and he managed relations with China in a low key but largely effective manner. In terms of policy, then, Clinton was not necessarily offering anything truly groundbreaking.

Stylistically, however, Clinton made a more distinct impression. In Indonesia, she appeared on a popular television talk show called “Awesome” and talked about her favorite bands (she cited the “music of [her] youth,” such as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones). In South Korea, she answered questions from students about how she fell in love with her husband. In China, State Councilor Dai Binggou complimented the Secretary of State on more than just her negotiating skills: “You look younger and more beautiful than you look on TV.” Some of this was to be expected—a new secretary of state, representing a new administration, is bound to get a great deal of attention on her first trip abroad. But the attention that Clinton received went beyond that. It is important to remember that her background is not as a diplomat but as an elected politician. More than that, Clinton endured the singular spotlight that only falls upon those select few who have lived in the White House for eight years. She knows how to draw attention, how to hold attention, and how to use it for her purposes; Clinton is a celebrity.

The skills of a political celebrity can be of tremendous value for a diplomat, who essentially conducts politics on a global scale. Even if Clinton did not promulgate any new policies or craft new diplomatic agendas in Asia, her trip must be considered a success because she was received in the countries she visited as a star. This kind of public diplomacy was in short supply during the Bush administration, and Barack Obama based much of his election campaign on changing the tone that the United States used to portray itself to the world. In this context, his selection of Hillary Clinton as secretary of state—as opposed to someone with a deeper or more specific background in diplomacy—makes a great deal of sense.

Clearly, Hillary Clinton is more than just a political celebrity. But her selection (and, so far, success) as a high profile secretary of state may hint at how the Obama administration as a whole will conduct its foreign policy. Regardless of political ideology, every president has an institutional interest in centralizing power in the White House. Obama is no different. Clinton may be the public face of U.S. diplomacy, and she may have populated the State Department with her chosen staff. But the real policymaking apparatus may actually exist in the National Security Council at the White House, which Obama has filled with aides and advisors for whom he has developed a trusting relationship over the course of his Senate career and his presidential campaign. Alternatively, Obama may have realized long ago that his early months and years as president would be dominated by his domestic agenda and the worsening economic situation. Entrusting foreign policy to a high-profile figure such as Clinton may have been a low-risk way of “outsourcing” a policy realm for which Obama has, at least for the time being, little time or interest.

These theories are not mutually exclusive, nor are they necessarily true. But Obama's appointment of a high profile, former political rival as secretary of state was an unexpected move when it was announced late last year. Although Clinton has performed ably so far, it is important to remember how implausible her appointment seemed just a few short months ago. Despite any inclination to centralize power at the White House, Obama cannot use the State Department simply as a public relations tool. And even if he was primarily interested in domestic policy, he cannot outsource foreign policy to a political celebrity. The likeliest theory, then, is simply that Obama picked the best person for the job, in order to help him fulfill his political agenda. Based on Clinton's first road-trip as the nation's top diplomat, Obama may well have chosen wisely.

Foreign Policy Association, 26 February 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 04:05 PM to Asia, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

January 22, 2009

Strip mined

This month's fighting in the Gaza Strip has dashed any hopes—never realistic to begin with—that the Israel/Palestine conflict would prove any less vexing for President Obama than it has for previous U.S. presidents. The fighting has earned condemnation all around, for Hamas (for launching rockets into Israel), for Israel (for the number of civilians its attacks have killed), and for the United States (for the failure of the Bush administration to broker anything remotely resembling progress over the past eight years). During his campaign, Barack Obama promised dramatic change in the foreign policy of the Bush administration,. But as the Gaza conflict has demonstrated, a change of U.S. presidents may not be sufficient on its own to change the prospects for peace in Israel/Palestine.

Allocating blame or determining which party is more “justified” in its actions is nearly impossible in the Israel/Palestine conflict. Each provocation by Israel can be justified by an action by Hamas, which in turn can be justified by Israeli behavior, which is then rooted in something that Hamas has perpetuated, and so on, extending back decades (or even millennia) through history. But if arbitrary lines of causality can be drawn, the proximate source of the latest fighting was the collapse of an Israel-Hamas cease-fire in December 2008. Hamas increased its rocket fire into southern Israel, and Israel responded, first with an aerial and naval assault and later with a ground attack. So far, more than 1,100 Palestinians have been killed in the conflict, one third of whom have been children. Thirteen Israelis have been killed, including three civilians.

Even examining the recent conflict under the arbitrary constraints of the past few months, however, can reveal a deeper and more complex set of motivations. Hamas is a militant and political Palestinian organization that calls explicitly for the destruction of Israel. That it has maintained this stance throughout the Middle East peace process has left it frozen out of most serious negotiations. Hamas' rival party in Palestine, Fatah, was the powerbase for Yasir Arafat for decades. Fatah recognizes Israel's right to exist, and has thus been the main spokesman for the Palestinian cause and is the “preferred” Palestinian political party in Israel and the West. Hamas, however, has a strong following among many Palestinians, if not for its outright resistance to Israel than for the extensive social services it provides in the Palestinian Territories. Fatah, by contrast, is known more for corruption than for effective governance.

In 2006, Hamas won Palestinian parliamentary elections, presenting an unfortunate conundrum for the Bush administration's democracy promotion agenda in the Middle East: is democracy preferable if the “wrong” side wins the election? Meanwhile, Fatah leader Mahmoud Abbas remained president of the Palestinian Authority. Then, in 2007, Fatah and Hamas forces fought for control of Gaza, with Hamas proving victorious and Fatah (and Israel, the United States, and others in the West) becoming embarrassed yet again. Instead of recognizing Hamas' electoral victory and its military successes, Israel attempted to dislodge Hamas from Gaza by imposing a blockade on the territory. Following Israel's unilateral withdrawal from Gaza in 2005, and presuming its continued unwillingness to negotiate with Hamas, a blockade seemed like the only way to place pressure on the organization. But instead of dislodging Hamas, the blockade reinforced its hold on power. Smuggling through tunnels to Egypt maintained its arsenal, while Gazan civilians suffered from a dire shortage of needed supplies.

Israel, for its part, faces the obvious and understandable desire for security. Hamas rocket fire from Gaza—no matter how sporadic or inaccurate—presents a clear threat that no Israeli government could be expected to tolerate indefinitely. But the current Israeli government under Prime Minister Ehud Olmert has other interests that have colored its decision to attack Gaza. In 2006, Olmert presided over an Israeli attack on Hezbollah forces in Lebanon. The parallels to Gaza are striking. Both Hamas and Hezbollah are fiercely anti-Israel and have not participated in the formal peace process. Both organizations use territory immediately adjacent to Israel to launch rockets against Israeli towns—territory that Israel had unilaterally withdrawn from in recent years (Israel ended a decades-long occupation of southern Lebanon in 2000). Both organizations are deeply embedded in the domestic politics of their host territory, and both have wide popular support due to the extensive social services they provide. But in the case of Hezbollah and the Israeli attack in 2006, it was Hezbollah that was deemed the victor. It sustained significant losses, but so did the attacking Israeli forces. More importantly, Olmert and his generals had defined victory as the elimination of Hezbollah as a threat to Israel. That the organization not only survived but more than held its own against the Israeli military served as a great embarrassment for Olmert, and a resounding public relations victory for Hezbollah. In Gaza, Olmert wanted to excise the demons of Lebanon and restore Israel's reputation of military superiority.

Israel also faced domestic political considerations of its own. It will hold elections for the Knesset in February. Olmert, beset with corruption charges, will not be in the running to continue as prime minister. But two of the main candidates to succeed him are members of Olmert's own cabinet, each from different parties of his coalition government. Defense Minister Ehud Barak, of the Labor Party, was Prime Minister when Israel withdrew from southern Lebanon in 2000 and when the Camp David talks with Bill Clinton and Yasir Arafat fell apart. Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni, of Olmert's own Kadima Party, is known for her hawkish instincts and also hopes to become prime minister. Many observers detect subtle (or not-so-subtle) efforts by Barak and Livni to use the Gaza conflict as a way to demonstrate their pre-election resolve and to use their positions in Olmert's cabinet to jockey to become his successor.

The timing of the attack also seemed to take U.S. politics into account. Given Hamas' firm control of Gaza and its reliable track record of launching rockets into Israel, Olmert did not need to wait until the collapse of the cease-fire to launch his attack. The operation was clearly planned in advance and did not need require any specific provocation (aside from the existing geopolitical reality) to launch it. Beyond that, Olmert was well aware of the potential backlash in global public opinion that any attack into Gaza would likely provoke. But the only global public opinion that truly matters to Israel is U.S. public opinion. By launching the attack in December, after the U.S. presidential election, Israel avoided the charged political atmosphere of a U.S. campaign season. But by declaring a unilateral cease-fire only days before Barack Obama's inauguration, Israel contained its most controversial actions to the waning days of President' Bush's administration. President Bush is a known quantity in Israel; he would not do anything to limit Israel's freedom of action, much as he did little to shorten Israel's 2006 attacks in Lebanon. And as a lame duck president, there was little Bush could do to stop Israel even if he wanted to. Obama, on the other hand, does not have a long track record with Israel, and given his domestic constituency, he potentially could be less forgiving of aggressive Israeli actions.

More than most U.S. presidents, Barack Obama will find the Israel/Palestine conflict a vexing one. In a domestic political sense, he faced a great deal of skepticism from pro-Israel groups in the United States during his campaign. Part of this was due simply to the fact that he was a Democrat who had opposed the invasion of Iraq during a period of Republican dominance. But it was also partly due to racial reasons, and to the persistent rumor mongering that Obama was Muslim. In a more strictly policy sense, Obama has promised to change the “mindset that led” to war in Iraq, and this change presumably carries over to the Israel/Palestine conflict. It is likely that he is inclined to re-engage in the peace process more aggressively than President Bush, and certainly more deliberately and earlier in his term than his predecessor, who had been critical of Bill Clinton's very “hands-on” role late in his presidency. Prior to his inauguration, Obama remained cagey about how he would address the conflict in Gaza. He stressed the notion that the country only has “one president at a time” and that as president-elect, it was not his place to make foreign policy. To a certain degree, this reply helped to shirk his responsibility.

The ferocity of Israel's strikes in Gaza, however, may force Obama's hand sooner than he might otherwise have liked, and in a direction he may not have intended to go. The U.S.-Israel relationship will always remain exceptionally strong. But many analysts are suggesting that in the wake of Israel's Gaza attacks, the United States must take a much more balanced approach towards Israel. Instead of approaching the peace process as a stalwart and unambiguous ally of Israel, Obama may instead orient the United States as a more neutral broker. In order to be taken seriously in such a position, Obama would have to force concessions from Israel, especially over settlement construction in the West Bank and over the relative “proportionality” of its response to provocations by militant groups such as Hamas. Some might argue that such an approach would backfire, that only with complete and unquestioning U.S. support can Israel feel secure enough to engage in peace talks with its Palestinian neighbors. This, however, has been U.S. policy for the past several decades. It may be time to subtly but significantly reorient this policy, and President Obama may feel compelled to do so earlier than he would have otherwise preferred.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 January 2009

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:04 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

December 29, 2008

Mumbai revelations

As gruesome as they were, last month's terrorist attacks in Mumbai were a bold wake-up call. The ten attackers entered Mumbai by boat, fanned out across the city, and attacked and laid siege to many of its most notable landmarks. Over the span of several days, 171 people were killed. The brazenness of the attacks reminded Indians that terrorism could still strike them, even in their largest city. But it also served as a reminder to the rest of the world of something that should have become obvious: the relatively new threat of state-less Islamic terrorism is inextricably linked to the older, state-based tensions between India and Pakistan.

The animosities between India and Pakistan stretch back to the founding of each country. When the British granted independence to its South Asian colony in 1947, two states were created: Muslim-majority Pakistan and predominantly Hindu India. The partition was a bloody and tumultuous affair, and it sowed the seeds for the tensions between the two countries that continue to this day. Pakistan and India have fought three major wars and numerous minor skirmishes over the past 60 years. The two countries' tit-for-tat nuclear weapons tests in 1998 did nothing to reduce the geopolitical or religious tensions, though it certainly raised the stakes of the rivalry to frightening new levels.

A source of much of much of the tension between India and Pakistan is the disputed territory of Kashmir. Uneasily and artificially divided by a “line of control” for the past 60 years, Kashmir has become a symbol of the tortured and seemingly intractable rivalry between India and Pakistan. In recent decades, one of Pakistan's preferred methods for exerting pressure in Kashmir has been supporting militant groups in the Indian-controlled portion of the territory. Pakistan officially denies supporting such groups, but it is widely suspected that they continue to receive protection (if not outright support) from forces within the Pakistani military, particularly from the powerful Inter-Services Intelligence agency (ISI). One such group is Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT), which was founded in Afghanistan in the early 1990s and maintains connections with the Taliban and al Qaeda. LeT has become notorious, however, as one of the more vicious militant groups operating in Kashmir. Although it denies responsibility for the Mumbai attacks, the sole attacker captured alive after the assault claimed that he was a member of LeT, and other evidence seems to confirm the group's culpability. This has only served to increase tensions between India and Pakistan.

LeT's apparent complicity in the Mumbai attacks has immediate implications for U.S. counter-terrorism policy and for the incoming Obama administration. For one thing, any spike in tensions between nuclear-armed powers is automatically of interest to the United States. Energy, attention, and resources that could be applied elsewhere must be redirected toward this crisis. Ideologically, however, the threat displayed by LeT in Mumbai is not all that different than the threat posed by al Qaeda and its offshoots in the West. In the scope and prioritization of their objectives, the two groups are broadly similar. Each has a near-term, practical objective that drives the bulk of their operational activity. For LeT, this near-term goal is the expulsion of Indian forces from Kashmir, and for al Qaeda, it is the expulsion of U.S. forces Muslim lands.

But each group also has a longer-term objective, based on a more generalized, extremist ideology that serves more as an abstract inspiration than a practical, operational blueprint. In these longer-term goals, LeT and al Qaeda are kindred spirits. LeT hopes to restore Islamic rule across South Asia, and al Qaeda wants to restore the Islamic caliphate over all of the lands it laid claim to hundreds of years ago. Each group draws its long-term inspiration from the same radical font.

Ideology is a tough thing to defeat. In a more practical sense, however, groups such as LeT and al Qaeda can be targeted by military means, and it is in this context that the Mumbai attacks will most directly affect U.S. policy. As tensions rise between India and Pakistan, India will try to send a message by moving more troops to Kashmir and to its border with Pakistan. For its part, Pakistan will seek to defend its borders (and its honor) by reinforcing its forces in Kashmir and along its eastern frontier. Those reinforcements will come from Pakistan's other border, with Afghanistan, where they nominally have been securing restless tribal areas and preventing Taliban and al Qaeda forces from using the region as a base for operations in Afghanistan. So far, however, Pakistan has not been effective in this mission. The situation in Afghanistan has deteriorated greatly over the past year, in large part due to the ease with which Taliban and insurgent forces can move across the Afghanistan-Pakistan border for resupply and repositioning. If the border is porous now, it will become far more dangerous if Pakistan moved troops away from the area to bolster its defenses against India.

In Afghanistan, U.S. and NATO troops are trying to ensure stability and defeat a growing Taliban insurgency. President-elect Obama campaigned on a pledge to end the war in Iraq and bolster the U.S. effort in Afghanistan, where the U.S. mission has long been perceived as more justified and appropriate than the elective invasion of Iraq (for more, see The Water's Edge, July 2008). It was from Afghanistan that Osama bin Laden planned the 9/11 attacks, and it was there that the hijackers were trained. After Afghan mujahideen expelled the Soviet invaders in 1989, the United States abandoned its former allies, leaving a chaotic power vacuum that allowed the Taliban to seize power and granted al Qaeda a safe haven.

If history teaches any lesson about U.S. involvement in Afghanistan, then, it is that the mission should be completed. But with the situation rapidly deteriorating in that country, a military worn-out by years of deployment in Iraq, and a growing economic crisis at home, many commentators and even some Obama supporters are questioning the wisdom of sending more troops to Afghanistan. It is a country with a long reputation for resisting outside invaders, and if Osama bin Laden hasn't been captured yet, he likely won't be caught with a few thousand additional soldiers.

Another school of thought takes a more nuanced position. Afghanistan remains an important country for the United States, and it would be unsafe and unwise to simply leave. At the same time, sending more troops to the country would be insufficient to defeat the insurgency and could, in fact, only make it worse. Instead, the United States must pursue a more wide-ranging strategy, in terms of both methodology (military support as well as economic support) and geography (stabilizing Afghanistan, demanding accountability from Pakistan, and urging restraint from India). Obama seems to be adopting a position along these lines: “We're going to have to make a series of not just military but also diplomatic moves that fully enlist Pakistan as an ally in that region, that lessen tensions between India and Pakistan, and then get everybody focused on rooting out militancy in a terrain, a territory, that is very tough.”

In a very straightforward way, then, the Mumbai attacks will have a direct effect on U.S. counter-terrorism policy. The attacks were launched by a group that has connections with the Taliban and al Qaeda and that is being protected by Pakistan's ISI. This raises tensions between Pakistan and India, distracting the former from its already meager efforts to support the U.S. mission in Afghanistan and tempting the latter to exact revenge on its long-standing rival. The crux of this geopolitical maze is, of course, Pakistan. Directly or indirectly, it fosters violence and instability in both Afghanistan and India, and its fragile democracy is wracked by corruption, economic woe, and competing factions within its own military. If Osama bin Laden is still alive, he is probably in Pakistan. And to make the situation even more unsettling, Pakistan also has nuclear weapons. Instead of an Afghanistan strategy, then, President-elect Obama is likely to think more in terms of a Pakistan strategy, or at the very least a regional one. He is fortunate that members of his own nascent administration have already thought along similar lines. During the Democratic primaries, Obama and Vice President-elect Joe Biden (then a fellow presidential candidate) shared similar views on Pakistan. They supported efforts to increase non-military aid to the country but to tie further military aid to the Pakistan's actual performance in shutting down Taliban safe havens within its borders (for more, see The Water's Edge, November 2007).

As horrific as the Mumbai attacks were, they serve as a potent reminder that South Asia's security challenges are deeply interconnected. Any policy that truly hopes to address them must encompass Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India in a coherent manner and recognize that resolving the deep-seated interstate tensions could help to undermine the region's potent intrastate (and state-less) threats. Already, rumors are swirling that Obama may appoint a high-powered special envoy to focus exclusively on South Asia; Richard Holbrooke, negotiator of the Dayton Accords that ended the war in Bosnia in the 1990s, has been floated as a potential appointee to this post. If these rumors are true, he may find that bringing peace to the Balkans was easy by comparison.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 December 2008

Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:53 PM to Asia, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

November 28, 2008

Great expectations

The election of Barack Obama this month was a historic moment not just for the United States but for much of the world, as well. Polls taken in other countries prior to the election showed that Obama was an overwhelming favorite for much of the world's population. After eight years of the George Bush's presidency, there is a strong national and international consensus for a change in U.S. foreign policy. In many ways, Obama will be able to deliver on this promise. But as the president-elect himself has emphasized, the expectations for radical change must be realistic. They will be tempered by the nature of the presidency and by Obama's own policy positions.

After Democrats won majorities in the Senate and the House of Representatives in 2006, there was a great hope among many party members that the foreign policy shortfalls of the Bush administration could be quickly fixed or reversed. These hopes went largely unfulfilled—the United States did not withdraw from Iraq, the situation in Afghanistan continued to deteriorate, and little progress was made to adopt a global policy to address climate change. Part of this disappointment was preordained. Many Democratic congressional candidates took advantage of the unpopularity of the Iraq war by vociferously opposing it. Once elected, however, all that a single congressman could do was cast a lone vote or lend his individual voice in support of the various bills that would have cut funding for the occupation. These individual legislators were single pieces of a much larger deliberative body, and even when operating collectively as a legislative majority, they only possessed a crude and indirect means to affect foreign policy. Of course, campaigning on such a message would not have served their purposes, and in many other respects, the Democratic Congress has made its influence felt. But it has not shifted the course of U.S. foreign policy in the manner that many had expected or hoped

Although Congress' role in foreign policy is important, it is not nearly as indispensable as the president's. Even before the Democratic victories in 2006, it was clear that major foreign policy changes could only be implemented with a change in presidential administration (for more, see Capitol Watch, August 2006). President Obama will find many opportunities to immediately and directly change U.S. foreign policy. At the most immediate level, he can appoint the diplomatic corps of his choosing, from Secretary of State, to Undersecretaries, to ambassadors. The change of administration will also attract thousands of experts and analysts who are ideologically aligned with Obama but who had spurned government service during the Bush years. Through this network of new appointments and through his own offices, Obama can set the tone for U.S. diplomacy. If he wants to engage Iran in a more direct form of negotiation over its nuclear program, he can do so, with little interference.

It is in the realm of national security policy that Obama may be able to best deliver on some of his more popular campaign promises. One of Obama's greatest attributes during the campaign was his record of early opposition to the invasion of Iraq and his proposal to withdraw most U.S. combat troops from that country within 16 months. As the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, President Obama will be able to accomplish this simply by ordering it. Likewise, he can order additional troops to deploy to Afghanistan, as he has promised, and direct the immediate closure of the detention facilities at Guantanamo Bay.

In issuing such orders, he will also likely face major constraints, many of which will be beyond his control. The U.S. military is greatly over-stretched. Managing a simultaneous withdrawal of forces from Iraq and a build-up of forces in Afghanistan may not be feasible logistically in the timeframe that Obama desires. Foreign allies may be reticent to support some of Obama's policies; despite his international popularity, Obama is still an American president, and the United States will always have interests that differ from much of the rest of the world. And as much as he may wish to close the Guantanamo Bay detention facilities, he will still face a vexing question: what to do with the detainees? (for more, see Capitol Watch, June 2006)

Obama will also face constraints of perception. These will not necessarily limit his freedom of action, but they may lead many of his supporters to be disappointed in his emerging presidency. It is true that Obama's early opposition to the Iraq invasion distinguished him during the election, even among his opponents in the Democratic primary. But despite attempts by supporters and opponents alike to use this opposition to define him as a left-wing partisan, Obama has never been particularly ideological in his policy positions. He has consistently emphasized his preference for pragmatism over ideology, especially in terms of foreign policy (for more, see Election Watch, August 2007). He supports a withdrawal from Iraq, but he also wants to expand the size of the military and deploy more troops to Afghanistan. He is strongly opposed to the prison at Guantanamo Bay, but he voted in favor of the controversial FISA bill this summer that granted retroactive immunity to telecommunications companies. Voters expecting a radical, liberal change in U.S. foreign policy will find themselves disappointed, but part of the fault will lie with them. Obama may not always be the president these voters expected to receive, but he will likely be the one that he campaigned to be.

Regardless of his own positions, there will be many policies that Obama will not be able to change on his own. Many of his high-level appointments will require Senate confirmation, and anything that requires money (which is essentially everything) will require the consent of Congress, at the very least. Legislators will certainly have a role to play. But as we have seen over the past two years, the legislature is clearly the inferior branch of government in terms of foreign policy. This is, of course, by design. No single branch has exclusive control of any policy domain. Near the end of the presidential campaign, as Obama's victory became more certain, many Republicans began campaigning on the virtue of divided government, in which different parties would control the different branches of government. Essentially, they argued that an Obama presidency must be balanced by a Republican Congress, or at least by a barely-Democratic one. In this manner, the inherent, institutional constraints on the federal government would be amplified by partisan divisiveness. Divided government has a long history in the United States, but this year, it was overwhelmed by the wave of support for Obama and popular opposition to the Bush administration.

The single party control of the presidency and Congress created by this election will be particularly robust. In the Senate, Democrats will be very close to the all-important 60 vote threshold, which is the tally needed in order to end debate and scuttle opposition filibusters. In a sense, the situation is the nearest the United States could ever come to a parliamentary system, in which the executive, by definition, is determined by the majority party in the legislature. Single party control, of course, is not enough, and the interests of the president and of 535 individual legislators will never be in perfect alignment. The president and Congress each has their own institutional prerogatives to protect, and these prerogatives exist independent of political party. Presidents Carter, Clinton, and Bush each presided over congressional majorities of their own party, and each found legislators to be frustratingly independent on many occasions, if not consistently. For President Obama, much will depend on his artfulness in dealing with Congress, and on the congressional leadership's willingness to collaborate on the president's agenda.

What may really determine the effectiveness of President Obama on the global stage, even more than single-party control of Congress, is timing. There is a general consensus among most policymakers and politicians that the United States is facing its most severe economic crisis in decades and that any solution will need to be global in nature. Although the situation in Iraq has improved recently, over 100,000 U.S. troops remain in that country; their future, and the timing and nature of their eventual withdrawal, will need to be managed carefully. The deteriorating situation in Afghanistan demands a new U.S. strategy. An increasingly assertive Russia will become even less inclined to consent to U.S. interests; the growing influence of China will need to be managed artfully.

Essentially, the problems that will face President Obama on January 20 will be so profound that the pressure to act boldly to solve them may outweigh the inherent constraints that typically prevent significant policy change. That Obama himself has already become a historic figure will only add to the sense of urgency once he takes office—it will take fairly strong policy convictions for a legislator to stand in the way of history. In short, the question of how effective Obama can be in the realm of foreign policy will pit the urgency of the moment and the unique nature of this president, on one hand, against the entrenched institutional prerogatives and an inherent tendency for inaction, on the other. We will know the answer soon enough.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 November 2008

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October 24, 2008

Electoral conclusion

Election day is no longer weeks, months, or years away. In a few short days, Americans will elect either Barack Obama or John McCain as president. If the race has seemed interminable, that's because in many respects it has been. The jockeying for the Republican and Democratic nominations began as soon as John Kerry conceded in November 2004, and the pace has never really slowed since then. From the standpoint of pure theater, the process has been extraordinary, for both those who love politics and those who loathe it. But from the standpoint of sound policy and good governance, it is important to reflect on whether the custom of the “non-stop campaign” is a useful thing.

Arguably, the lengthy primary campaigns worked well for both parties. Hillary Clinton was long considered the front-runner among Democrats, despite the national campaign experience of John Edwards and the star-potential and Barack Obama. Indeed, until the very end of 2007, Clinton held significant leads in almost every national poll and in most state polls (with the crucial exception of Iowa). Obama held huge public rallies and raised vast sums of money but his debate performances were uneven and he found it difficult to shake the impression that he was something of a policy lightweight.

But prolonged time on the campaign trail proved to be a determining factor for each candidate. The presumptive nature of Hillary Clinton's campaign did not always wear well and left the door open to plausible alternatives. The inconsistencies between John Edwards' words and actions seemed to multiply over time, raising concerns about his candidacy. And Barack Obama's organizational and fundraising skills over the long months of 2007 kept his candidacy solvent as his gained national exposure and experience. Even after the primary elections finally began and the race devolved into a tough slog between Obama and Clinton, each candidate benefited from the lengthy race. Obama proved he could handle a tough, national campaign, and after her initials setbacks in January and February 2008, Clinton was able to adjust her strategies to ensure that the race persisted until June.

In the Republican race, John McCain entered as the front-runner due to his national exposure and his appealing biography. But as 2007 wore on, he did not maintain that position. Rudy Giuliani and Mitt Romney raised more money and led in more polls, Ron Paul earned a passionate grassroots following, Fred Thompson was drawn into the race on a wave of enthusiasm, and Mike Huckabee saw a late boom in popularity. For a significant portion of the year, party insiders and reporters wrote off John McCain's campaign. But the length of the primary season gave him the opportunity to retool his campaign, and he eventually secured the Republican nomination well before the Democrats settled their battle.

The length of the Republican race also provided McCain and the other candidates an opportunity to reframe their message to match the particular political moment. President Bush's popularity has been steadily declining over the past few years, and as the Republican primary progressed, the candidates were forced to modulate their levels of overt support for the president. Likewise, the situation in Iraq seemed to improve markedly over the course of 2007. This worked to the great benefit of McCain, who had long emphasized his criticism of former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld's handling of the war as well as his support of Bush's newer “surge” strategy, which coincided with the declining levels of violence in that country.

Although the length and intensity of this particular presidential campaign is unprecedented, it should not have been unanticipated. The lengthy campaign season is a product of the fundamental structure of U.S. politics. The Constitution provides for a presidential executive, with term lengths and even election dates specified in the text itself. This means two things. First, everyone knows when elections will be held. Each party has developed extensive organizational machinery around the chronological constant that presidents are elected every four years, on the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. This has lead to an arms race, of sorts. If one party begins its primary campaign in earnest one year before the election in a given cycle, the opposing party will begin to campaign 18 months before election day in the next cycle. State laws, party regulations, and simple custom govern how early the actual voting begins. But no such constraints exist on organizing, fundraising, and otherwise laying the groundwork for the voting itself.

Second, the system is not perfectly responsive to changes in popular opinion. Essentially, electing the president represents a poll of U.S. public opinion, held once every four years. But public opinion—and political reality—changes far more frequently than that. Just compare the state of U.S. and global politics in November 2000, in November 2004, and November 2008. The most important issues each year vary so greatly as to be nearly unrecognizable from election cycle to election cycle. Certainly, no one in 2000 could have predicted what would be the most important issues in 2004, nor could anyone in 2004 have identified the driving issues in 2008. Should new issues arise in between presidential elections, or should the president see great swings in popularity, the electorate has no means of formally expressing their collective opinion. And because the president is not directly accountable to Congress, mid-term elections only have a limited effect in transmitting the views of the electorate toward the executive.

It is not this way in many other countries. Indeed, when compared with other democracies, the U.S. presidential system is relatively unique. In parliamentary systems such as in the United Kingdom and in Canada, the chief executive is the leader of the party or coalition with the most seats in parliament. By definition, they are directly accountable to the legislature. Elections for certain houses of parliament may be held on a fixed schedule, and elections for the main house must be held within a certain period (typically no more than 5 years) from the last vote. But election dates cannot be predicted infinitely into the future. Prime ministers either call for elections on their own, or parliaments can declare that they have “no confidence” in the prime minister and force an election. Although parliamentary systems have their own downsides, they do not face many of the same disadvantages of the U.S. presidential system. Because election dates cannot be predicted with certainty years (or decades) in advance, parties and candidates cannot hold perpetual campaigns in the same way that they can in the United States. And because events can force contemporaneous elections, the executive must be more responsive to the changing opinions of the electorate.

Canada, for example, held federal elections this year. On September 7, Prime Minister Stephen Harper asked Canada's Governor General to dissolve parliament and call for early elections. She did so, and parliamentary elections were held five weeks later, on October 14. Anyone following politics in Canada knew that Harper wanted to expand his Conservative plurality in Parliament to a full majority and that he was required by law to call for new elections within the next year. The fact that he called for elections when he did, then, was not a complete surprise, and members of parliament and their potential opponents had ample time to plot their campaign strategies. But the process in Canada provided for a specific beginning and end to the campaign season, which itself represented a fraction of the time spent by U.S. politicians campaigning for higher office (as president or in Congress). Harper surely called for an election when he did because he felt that it would benefit his party. But this belief was based on the political realities at the time; it was the public mood, in part, that prompted the government to let them cast their votes for who should represent them in Parliament. In the United States, the public mood has no effect on when the people choose their representatives.

The United States will never adopt a parliamentary system, and even if it could, there would be strong arguments to be made against doing so. But the length and expense and pageantry and (sometimes maddening) pervasiveness of political campaigns in the United States is not due simply to partisanship, or to cultural issues, or to 527 groups, soft money, or bundled contributions. It is simply a consequence of the way the U.S. government is built. This fact may be of little consequence as the election builds to its climax and as voters choose between Barack Obama and John McCain. But it is important to remember that as much as elections shape the structure of government, the structure of government also determines which kinds of politics are permissible and effective, and which are not. And if there isn't time to reflect on these issues now, there may be a spare moment or two on November 5.

Foreign Policy Association, 23 October 2008

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September 25, 2008

Vice and virtues

After months of presumption, Barack Obama and John McCain are now the official standard bearers of their respective parties. More newsworthy than the nominating conventions, however, were the relatively late announcements of each candidate’s vice presidential running mate. Obama proved many prognosticators right with his selection of Senator Joe Biden (D-DE), while McCain surprised many by picking Alaska Governor Sarah Palin to join his ticket. The role of vice presidential candidates during a presidential election—and indeed, the appropriate role of vice presidents in a governing administration—is frequently unclear and often highly variable. But the selections of both Biden and Palin have important foreign policy implications in this election. Each brings a very different set of ideas and skills to the race, and each reflects and reinforces the judgment that Obama and McCain have demonstrated so far in this campaign.

Politically, it is often said that the selection of a running mate is the first important executive decision that a presidential candidate must make. In the past, running mates have been selected to reinforce certain positive traits in the candidate, to compensate for perceived weaknesses, to provide ideological or geographical balance to the ticket, or to appeal to certain demographic groups. For the relatively inexperienced Obama, Biden provides the confidence and expertise of a long-serving, widely respected U.S. Senator. For a comparatively older McCain, who needed to mend his relationship with conservatives in his own party, Palin combines very conservative policy positions with the image of youth and vigor, while simultaneously appealing to disaffected supporters of Hillary Clinton.

Constitutionally, the vice president has only two jobs: to preside over the Senate and cast a vote in the case of a tie, and to become president (or act as president, depending on the situation) in the case of presidential disability, death, or resignation. Many former occupants of the office have described it in disparaging, often colorful terms. But if the thinly enumerated powers of the vice presidency have a flip side, it is that holders of the office (together with the president) can make of it what they will. The two most recent vice presidents have gone a long way toward dispelling the notion that the office is more ceremony than substance. President Clinton allowed Vice President Al Gore to assume an unprecedented range of responsibilities over certain issue areas and in his efforts to streamline the federal bureaucracy. His successor, Dick Cheney, has even greater influence, to the point that many people believe that he is the driving force behind the Bush administration’s foreign policies. Now that the precedent for a strong vice presidency has been established, the selection of a running mate has taken on an importance well beyond electoral politics.

Joe Biden has been in the U.S. Senate for 35 years, and he has run unsuccessfully for president twice. Aside from his longevity in Congress (and his occasional loquaciousness), Biden is known as a foreign policy expert. He has been either Chairman or ranking minority member of the foreign relations committee since 1997, and he is a leading voice for the Democratic Party on matters of foreign policy and national security. Compared to other Democrats, Biden is generally considered to be more hawkish and more amenable to the use of U.S. force abroad. In the 1990s, he was a strong advocate for confronting Slobodan Milosevic, the Serbian leader who oversaw the bloody ethnic conflict that engulfed the former Yugoslavia. He voted to give President Bush the authority to attack Iraq in 2002, and in his abortive presidential campaign last year, he championed a plan to create a more strictly federal Iraq, with distinct Kurdish, Sunni, and Shiie regions. Both positions stood in contrast to Obama’s, but Biden did seem to share many of Obama’s thoughts on Pakistan (for more, see The Water’s Edge, November 2007).

In many ways, Sarah Palin is the opposite of Joe Biden. She presents an entirely different set of foreign policy credentials; many would say that she has none whatsoever. To be sure, such critiques are grounded in partisan politics. But even by an objective assessment, foreign policy is not Sarah Palin’s strength. She clearly knows this. Initial attempts by the McCain campaign to defend Palin’s foreign policy credentials included references to Alaska’s proximity to Russia and to Palin’s less-than-two year leadership of the Alaska National Guard. Such clumsy political fixes have largely been abandoned, and as Palin makes herself more available to the media, her foreign policy thinking (if not her experience) is coming into focus. She has echoed McCain’s aggressive views toward Russia and has called for admitting both Ukraine and Georgia into NATO (for more, see The Water’s Edge, August 2008). She is adamant that Iran should not be permitted to obtain nuclear weapons and in her insistence that the United States cannot “second guess” the steps that Israel may take to defend itself. Palin has voiced support for a policy of pre-emptive military action but not necessarily for preventative action, saying that if “a strike is imminent against American people, we have every right to defend our country.”

This election, however, is a presidential election. Despite the surprising discretion in how they can execute their powers, vice presidents have been and always will be secondary to the president. The choice in this election is between Obama and McCain, and no one else. But each candidate’s vice presidential pick reinforces existing impressions about their political characters. For Obama, Biden was a “safe” choice. He was a known quantity: unquestionably experienced and skilled in the ways of legislative politics. No one doubts that he would be able to serve as president, if circumstances called for it. In many ways, he is a living, breathing contrast to Obama’s message of “change.” But despite perceptions to the contrary, Obama’s political history has always been marked by cautiousness and a certain methodical sobriety. Especially for a candidate as new and different as Obama, a “safe” running mate makes a lot of sense.

For McCain, the selection of Palin is risky. It reminds voters of McCain’s “maverick” persona, in which he happily bucks his own party and takes unpopular stands for principled reasons. By dint of her gender, her policy positions, her life story, and her raw political skill, Palin was a bold vice presidential selection. It generated excitement for a lagging campaign and solidified support among several key constituencies. Palin has become a media sensation and has rekindled excitement among Republicans for their ticket. But like any risky decision, McCain’s selection of Palin has a potential downside. By any standard, Palin has limited government experience and foreign policy expertise. In her limited interaction with the press, Palin’s intuitive grasp of foreign policy issues has often seemed tenuous. For many, the question of whether she is prepared to be president is not easily answerable. This would be cause for concern in any presidential campaign. But in the case of McCain—a 72-year-old former POW with a history of cancer—the concern becomes far more visceral.

One can surmise about what kinds of vice presidents Biden and Palin might be. Obama has spoken at length about how he wants subordinates who will openly present their views and freely question his own beliefs. Although they agree on broad foreign policy principles, Obama and Biden do not hold identical positions. And even Joe Biden’s most fervent critics would acknowledge that he is not shy about speaking his mind. In an Obama administration, Biden could be a very influential advisor, and given his deep legislative experience, he could also have significant governing responsibilities of his own.

McCain, for his part, has a large reservoir of foreign policy expertise. He is fluent on a wide range of international issues and he is confident in his policy positions. This stands in stark contrast to Palin. With the possible exception of energy policy, it is difficult to conceive of a situation in which McCain would seek Palin’s counsel on an issue of international consequence. Much of Palin’s appeal would vanish on Election Day; if the Republican ticket wins, she would have fulfilled her primary purpose. This is certainly a legitimate rationale for picking a running mate. But it appears very different than the rationale employed by Obama.

If nothing else, Biden and Palin will serve as prominent surrogates for their respective tickets. Whether they generate additional votes for their respective tickets, and how they might reshape the vice presidency in their own image, is unknowable for now. The first real opportunity to answer these questions will be at the vice presidential debate, to be held on October 8. The final opportunity will be one month later, on Election Day itself.

Foreign Policy Association, 25 September 2008

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August 29, 2008

Application received

In a month in which the Beijing Olympics, the impending party conventions, and vice presidential speculation should have been the main political news, an overseas war rudely interrupted. The conflict between Russia and Georgia, ostensibly over the breakaway Georgian regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, has reignited Cold War-era suspicions of an assertive, nuclear-armed Russia. These suspicions are greatest in places like Georgia, Ukraine, and the other countries once dominated by the Soviet Union. But they are also having an effect on the U.S. presidential race. Although the Russia-Georgia conflict has not unearthed any new insights into the campaigns of Barack Obama or John McCain, it has solidified the existing and substantial distinctions in their foreign policy thinking.

This conflagration is just the latest chapter in a long history of conflict in the Caucasus region. Located at a confluence of religions, ethnicities, and trade routes, Georgia and its neighbors are wedged between the perennial powers of Turkey (and before that, the Ottoman Empire), Iran (Persia), and Russia (the Soviet Union). Since achieving independence amid the fall of the Soviet Union nearly 20 years ago, Georgia has experienced a variety of secessionist movements, most notably in South Ossetia and Abkhazia. Although animosity between South Ossetians and Georgians is genuine, the situation has hardly been helped by Russia. In an attempt to maintain sway in its former territories and along its present-day periphery, Russia supported these secessionist movements by providing passports to South Ossetians and Abkhazians and by deploying its own “peacekeepers” in the area. Tensions have been building all year, and in early August, Georgian troops moved to capture the capital of South Ossetia. Russia responded, not only evicting Georgian forces from South Ossetia, but also from Abkhazia and from parts of Georgia itself.

The onset of the conflict caught Obama at the beginning of a weeklong vacation in Hawaii. Although his holiday prevented Obama from engaging the subject on the campaign trail, he did issue a statement that called on Georgia and Russia to show restraint and to “avoid an escalation to full scale war.” These relatively even-handed remarks were strengthened a few days later, after Russian forces had moved beyond South Ossetia, where the conflict had begun, into Abkhazia and Georgia proper: “No matter how this conflict started, Russia has escalated it well beyond the dispute over South Ossetia and invaded another country.” Most notably, he reiterated his desire to pursue NATO membership negotiations with Georgia. Obama has since sharpened his criticism of Russia for refusing to abide by cease-fire terms and for suggesting that it would formally recognize the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia.

McCain, for his part, was not on vacation when the conflict began, and he seemed quite content to address the issue in unambiguous terms. His initial statement was far harsher toward Russia than Obama's, and it did not acknowledge any Georgian culpability in igniting the conflict: “Russia should immediately and unconditionally cease its military operations and withdraw all forces from sovereign Georgian territory.” He also called for NATO to “review measures [it] can take to contribute to stabilizing this very dangerous situation.” McCain later claimed that “Russian aggression against Georgia is both a matter of urgent moral and strategic importance to the United States of America,” and that “the fate of Georgia should be of grave concern to Americans and all people who welcomed the end of a divided of Europe.”

Neither Georgia nor Russia is blameless for this war. Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili acted recklessly in attacking his far larger neighbor; he may have assumed that the United States or NATO to come to his country's aid. Since taking office in 2003, Saakashvili has eagerly sought NATO membership for his country in an attempt to tie it more closely to the West. Given the history of Russian dominance in the Caucasus and its provocative actions in Abkhazia and South Ossetia (not to mention in Chechnya in the 1990s), it is only logical that Saakashvili sought such security assurances. Russia, however, had deliberately provoked Georgia by offering Russian citizenship to South Ossetians and Abkhazians and by placing “peacekeepers” in both regions. It reacted disproportionately when it invaded Georgia proper, blockaded its ports, and strongly hinted at its desire to depose Saakashvili.

As the conflict progressed, Russia's overreaction and aggressiveness became more obvious and Georgia's recklessness and presumptuousness receded into the background. Thus McCain's early, hawkish statements toward Russia seemed more prescient than Obama's even-handed approach. Indeed, McCain has taken an aggressive stance toward Russia throughout the presidential campaign. He has called for Russia to be kicked out of the G8 group of industrialized nations, and he is fond of describing his first meeting with Russia's current prime minister: “I looked into Mr. [Vladimir] Putin's eyes and I saw three things — a K and a G and a B.” At times, McCain's enthusiasm seemed to get the better of him. He declared at a campaign rally that he personally told Saakashvili that he spoke for every American in proclaiming, “we are all Georgians.” And without a trace of irony, he insisted that, “in the 21st century, nations don't invade other nations.”

Though he seemed to lack McCain's prescience about Russia's motivations and behavior, Obama became harsher towards Russia as the conflict unfolded. Broadly speaking, the reactions of McCain and Obama to the conflict confirm their emerging foreign policy identities. McCain is aggressive, assertive, and forceful in identifying clear adversaries and in speaking or acting against them. For him, the threats to U.S. security are always clear and discrete: Iraq, al Qaeda, Russia, etc. Obama is more deliberate, consultative, and cooperative in working to diffuse threats with a minimum of bluster or excessive rhetoric. In Obama's worldview, not all adversaries will be clearly defined. Correctly identifying the threat may be just as important (if not more so) than actually combating it. Even though the conflict in Georgia was far from straightforward, with plenty of culpability to go around, it could be handily portrayed as a big, scary, authoritarian Russia invading a small, brave, democratic Georgia. This is an easy construction to understand, with a clear “good guy” and “bad guy.” Such an issue is tailor-made for McCain's worldview.

Although this worldview may have its advantages, its blunt assertiveness can overshadow the important historical subtleties at the root of Russia's current behavior. After the end of the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Union, Russia became a weaker, more insecure country. But instead of disbanding or reorganizing itself, NATO—the alliance explicitly created to fight the Cold War and counter the Soviet threat—actually expanded, accepting as members countries in Eastern Europe that had once been under Soviet domination. As NATO moved closer to its border, and as the alliance flexed its muscles over Bosnia and Kosovo in the 1990s, Russia's sense of its own insecurity grew deeper. But at the time, it was too weak to force a change in Western behavior, and many U.S. and NATO policy makers took Russia for granted.

Russia's immediate neighbors, however, did not. The countries of Eastern Europe understandably sought NATO membership, and more recently, so too did Ukraine and Georgia. For Russia, the encroachment of a “victorious” NATO toward its own borders represented not just a security threat, but an affront and an insult. If they had won the Cold War, why did NATO need to grow? Why did it even need to continue to exist? President Bush's unilateral behavior, such as his abrogation of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, the invasion of Iraq, and the recognition of Kosovo, added insult to injury. But unlike in the 1990s, Russia's political power was consolidated under Vladimir Putin and its economic power was bolstered by a huge resource boom. Russia's invasion of Georgia had little to do with South Ossetia or Abkhazia. It was more about reasserting a long-dormant dominance over its impudent neighbors and reigniting a sense of national pride after nearly 20 years of perceived victimhood, disrespect, and insecurity.

In this context, it is Obama's more deliberative worldview that strikes upon an ironic kind of logic. For all of its real benefits, NATO's rapid expansion in the 1990s was a key contributor to Russia's sense of victimhood. Although the alliance has not yet begun formal membership negotiations with Georgia, the fact that its candidacy has been seriously considered—and strongly backed by the United States—has not gone unnoticed by Russia. But by launching its invasion, Russia has proven beyond any doubt that it poses a threat to Georgia. Its actions constitute the best case yet for Georgian membership in NATO. And Obama, counter-intuitively, seems to realize this. His response to the conflict lacked the aggressive bluster of McCain's, and he seemed to appreciate the complexities inherent in the conflict. Yet he simultaneously embraced the one policy—NATO expansion—perhaps most responsible for Russia's false sense of insecurity. But conditions change, and the policy makers that realize it are the ones that succeed.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 August 2008

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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

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June 26, 2008

Occupation justification

The war in Iraq is clearly one of the most important foreign policy issues in this year's presidential campaign. Arguably, it was the issue that single-handedly shaped the parties' nomination battles. The success of Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) rested in large part on his early (and then-unpopular) opposition to the Iraq invasion. Senator John McCain (R-IL) supported the invasion, but he staked his candidacy on his steady criticism of occupation policy and his steadfast (and politically risky) support for the 2007 troop surge. In the general election, the two candidates remain defined by their views on Iraq. As the presidential campaign unfolds, however, the situation in Iraq evolves as well, placing pressure on policy positions the candidates have barely changed over the past 18 months. But even as the candidates struggle to adapt to changing real-world conditions, their policy records will continue to define them.

Although Iraq has hardly become a stable or peaceful place, the good news in recent months is heartening. The rate of U.S. casualties has declined, the influence of foreign fighters and Sunni extremists has decreased, and the central government has had success in asserting its authority against Shiite militias in several parts of the country. These successes cannot be attributed to any single action or policy. The so-called “Sunni awakening,” in which Sunni tribal leaders have turned against the al Qaeda-inspired elements in their midst and allied with U.S. forces, has yielded positive results. The 2007 troop surge in Baghdad may partially account for the greater coherence and authority of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki's central government. Although military and civilian casualties continue to mount, they are climbing at a slower rate than in recent years. Unquestionably, this is all very good.

As the situation in Iraq has evolved, however, the public positions of Obama and McCain have remained relatively static, especially since the primary campaign began in early 2007. Obama has called for a phased withdrawal of all U.S. combat forces from Iraq over a 16-month period, at a rate of one or two brigades per month. He would allow for residual forces to remain in Iraq and the region to protect the U.S. embassy, to fight al Qaeda elements, and—if Iraq makes political progress—to continue training Iraqi security forces. He renounces any claim to permanent U.S. bases in Iraq. McCain, for his part, is a strong advocate of continuing the current strategy as implemented by General David Petraeus. His objective is a stable, prosperous, democratic, and peaceful Iraq that poses no threat to its neighbors. He is opposed to any significant troop withdrawals until that objective is achieved.

But before they launched their campaigns, each senator approached the situation in Iraq differently. Obama opposed the initial invasion itself. But after Saddam Hussein had been deposed, he did not immediately call for a withdrawal of U.S. troops. As late as 2005, he stated that, “U.S. forces are still a part of the solution in Iraq.” He explicitly favored a reduction of U.S. forces in Iraq (not a full withdrawal), and he opposed a specific timetable for any withdrawal. By 2007, shortly before he announced his presidential candidacy, he had settled on his present position. McCain supported the original invasion but became sharply critical of the Bush administration's handling of the occupation. Specifically, he said on several occasions that he had “no confidence' in then-Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and he consistently advocated for a larger troop presence in Iraq. Since the 2007 troop surge began—and the presidential campaign kicked off—McCain has largely supported the Bush administration's policy in Iraq, and he pledges to continue it.

None of this history should condemn either candidate. Indeed, it is good that policy makers adjust their positions as the real-world situation changes. Unfortunately, electoral politics places a premium on consistency, so until the election, neither Obama nor McCain are likely to radically alter the positions they adopted 18 months ago. But this doesn't mean that their records cannot (or should not) illuminate their potential policies as president, especially on the central question of how long U.S. troops should remain in Iraq.

At the end of this year, the UN resolution that formally permits U.S. troops to operate in Iraq will expire. The Bush administration is keen to provide a continuing legal framework for the U.S. occupation and has been actively negotiating two separate agreements with the Iraqi government. A Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) would codify the specific legal terms under which U.S. forces could operate in Iraq; the United States already has negotiated dozens of SOFAs with other countries that house U.S. troops. A “strategic framework agreement” likely would cover broader (and more contentious) issues such as the political, military, and economic relationship between the United States and Iraq and what functions U.S. troops could perform in Iraq. Reports have leaked that in negotiating these agreements, the Bush administration is seeking 58 permanent bases, control of Iraqi airspace, and immunity for troops and contractors.

Right now, neither Obama nor McCain would offer an absolute answer to the question, “how long will the United States stay in Iraq?” Obama would say that he would withdraw all combat troops in less than two years and he would disavow permanent bases, but he would remain vague about the size, location, and duration of the residual force he proposes. McCain is even more explicit in de-emphasizing the question. Earlier this year, he famously commented that he would not object to U.S forces remaining in Iraq for 100 years, and when questioned on that point in a recent interview, he noted that it is “not too important” when U.S. forces leave Iraq. The important thing, he said, was whether U.S. forces were suffering casualties. McCain highlighted the presence of U.S. troops in Japan, Korea, and Germany as examples of what he would consider acceptable analogues for Iraq.

Despite their respective ambiguity (or perhaps because of it), the policy records of Obama and McCain are particularly helpful in figuring out how they now interpret the role of U.S. forces in Iraq. In McCain's example, U.S. troops did not face insurgencies in Japan, Korea, or Germany like they do today in Iraq; by the time those occupations had begun in earnest, the wars that preceded them had largely concluded. Within a short period of time, each country had gained a stable and secure sovereign government. But even after the fighting had ended and stable governments had been formed, the fifty-year U.S. presence in those countries had a very specific purpose: to deter Communist aggression in the context of the Cold War. McCain's parallel, then, poses a very important question. Once the violence in Iraq is quelled, its government is stable, and U.S. troops are no longer taking casualties, what would be the objective of the remaining U.S. forces? Who would they be deterring, and in what context?

The answer to this question lies in the original rationale for the invasion itself, in the debate that raged in 2002 and early 2003. Supporters of the invasion used a variety of reasons to support their argument: Saddam Hussein was a tyrant and had to be toppled; he possessed weapons of mass destruction that presented a threat to others; he was allied with al Qaeda; a new, Arab democracy would be a beacon of change in the turbulent Middle East. None of these reasons, on their own, seemed to justify an invasion, and the Bush administration used them interchangeably.

Since then, many of the justifications for invasion have proven to be exaggerated or outright inaccurate. But one justification, alluded to in comments by policymakers since the invasion, was downplayed at the time: the geostrategic motivation. Iraq is in a very important corner of the globe, located near some of the United States' most valuable allies and some of its most distrusted adversaries. It also has a lot of oil. In other words, Iraq was a good place for the United States to plant its flag in the real-world game of Risk.

Sensible people may disagree about whether this geostrategic rationale was sufficient to justify the invasion of Iraq. But as it applies to the presidential candidacies of Obama and McCain, there is a clear difference. Obama opposed the introduction of U.S. forces into Iraq at the outset and has consistently renounced permanent bases there; nothing in his subsequent ambiguity about the specifics of occupation policy changes that. McCain supported the original invasion and is unabashed in his support for a continued U.S. presence in Iraq. Indeed, his “100 years” comment may be the most honest acknowledgment yet of the geostrategic rationale for invasion. In an electoral sense, this is a great thing. Beneath the candidates' superficial ambiguity, their positions are starkly different. In this election, on Iraq, the choice for voters is a real one.

Foreign Policy Association, 26 June 2008

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May 22, 2008

Appeasement politics

Now that the Democratic nomination is all but settled, Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) is transitioning from the primary campaign to the general election. His Republican opponent, Senator John McCain (R-AZ), has been waiting for him there. But in recent days, the man they each hope to succeed has inserted himself into the emerging general election. By implicitly attacking Obama's approach to foreign policy during a speech before Israel's Knesset, President Bush prematurely initiated a debate among the presidential candidates on the role of diplomacy in dealing with U.S. adversaries. As with many other supposed fault-lines in this political season, the differences between Obama and McCain on foreign policy are real. But they are not the differences that they might appear to be.

Bush addressed the Knesset, Israel's parliament, on the occasion of that country's sixtieth anniversary. Apart from his requisite statements of solidarity and praise, Bush's implicit comments on the presidential race earned the most attention: “Some seem to believe that we should negotiate with the terrorists and radicals, as if some ingenious argument will persuade them they have been wrong all along … [w]e have an obligation to call this what it is—the false comfort of appeasement, which has been repeatedly discredited by history.” Although he didn't mention him by name, it was widely assumed that the president was referring to Obama's professed willingness to conduct direct diplomacy with the leaders of unfriendly countries, specifically with President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran (for more, see The Water’s Edge, August 2007). He further implied that Obama would be willing to negotiate with groups like Hamas and Hezbollah. Bush's comments were all the more notable because they violated the time-honored aphorism that U.S. domestic politics should stop “at the water's edge.”

The president's comments generated an understandable stir. “George Bush knows that I have never supported engagement with terrorists,” Obama said. “The president's extraordinary politicization of foreign policy and the politics of fear do nothing to secure the American people or our stalwart ally Israel.” Obama also used the occasion to reiterate his opposition to Bush's 2003 invasion of Iraq, which he said had actually strengthened Iranian influence in the region. McCain responded with similar vigor. Although he did not repeat Bush's charge of “appeasement,” he did advance the attack on Obama, suggesting that it was “reckless to suggest that unconditional meetings [with U.S. adversaries] will advance our interests.”

Politically, both campaigns seemed to welcome this fight. Obama enjoyed the attention he received as his party's presumptive nominee, and he was glad to link McCain with Bush's unpopular presidency. McCain has always believed one of his greatest strengths was on national security and foreign policy, and he welcomed the chance to debate Obama on ground that he found favorable. But the spat also engendered a fair amount of hyperbole. For all of the talk of the sacredness of the “water's edge” rule, it has always been selectively applied. It is impossible to completely separate domestic politics from foreign policy, especially given the nature of modern communications technologies and media practices. It certainly might have been in poor taste for Bush to make his comments where he did (in the parliament of a uniquely consequential U.S. ally) and when he did (on the anniversary of that ally's still-controversial creation). But it is likely that Obama was more pleased to exploit the political opening that Bush presented him than he was personally offended at the president's comments.

Bush's comments, and the debate they initiated, were full of hyperbole and misunderstanding on policy grounds, as well. The charge of “appeasement” has been a favorite political attack since World War II, most frequently used by conservatives but also by many politicians trying to justify aggressive (often military) action. It is rooted in the Munich Agreement of 1938, when British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain allowed Adolf Hitler to annex portions of Czechoslovakia in exchange for pledging to refrain from further aggression—a pledge that was quickly broken. Although based upon this historical episode, the political charge of “appeasement” has since evolved. It is now routinely applied to anyone who would rather negotiate with an adversary than confront them head-on. That the charge is rooted in the aggression of Adolf Hitler, the paragon of twentieth century evil, is also very convenient. Comparing any potential adversary to Hitler is a useful and graphic way to convince skeptics of the gravity of the threat at hand.

But as is often the case, political rhetoric has corroded the historical record. “Appeasement” is to “placate someone by acceding to their demands.” Chamberlain certainly did that in 1938. But it is a rare politician who today openly advocates acceding to the demands of their country's adversaries, and surely it is the rare adversary that matches the danger presented by Hitler in the late 1930s. Today, “appeasement” has become conflated with “negotiation,” when in fact the two are completely different things. In some cases, this may be due to deliberate obfuscation of the facts; in others, it may be due to historical ignorance.

In either event, the charge of “appeasement” is a particularly useless one. No matter how aggressive or nationalistic a country's leader may be, it is practically impossible to exist in the international system without relying to some degree on negotiation. President Bush certainly knows this and has regularly negotiated with U.S. adversaries, such as Libya and North Korea. Senator McCain, who in certain cases may be more open to diplomacy and negotiation than President Bush, surely knows this as well. On the other hand, Obama himself has been at pains to emphasize that he would not negotiate directly with non-state actors such as Hamas and Hezbollah; he certainly has not indicated that he would “appease” anybody.

Political hyperbole aside, real differences do exist between Obama and McCain on foreign policy. The differences, however, may rest more in their respective means than in their ends. In the case of Iran, for example, Obama and McCain would want many of the same things. They each would want that country to stop pursuing nuclear weapons technology, to withdraw its support for Hezbollah and recognize the state of Israel, and to play a more productive role in Iraq. Neither candidate, through their records or their rhetoric, has placed themselves too far outside of the existing, bipartisan, foreign policy mainstream—Obama would be unlikely to rely on face-to-face negotiation alone, and McCain would be unlikely (not to mention unable) to deal with Iran in a purely military fashion. And in a political season, neither candidate's campaign pronouncements should be read too literally as final policy statements.

The real differences between Obama and McCain on foreign policy largely concern public perceptions, including those explicitly promoted by the candidates themselves and those implicitly assigned by voters and foreign actors alike. Obama pitches himself as an agent of change and as a keen internationalist, both in terms of personal identity and political inclination. He is more likely to pursue different and more creative approaches to solving international problems than have been the norm under President Bush. His opposition to the invasion of Iraq—and his support for a greater investment of resources into the conflict in Afghanistan—indicates how a President Obama may apply military force. McCain, for his part, identifies as a war hero and a staunch advocate of not just U.S. power, but in many cases of U.S. primacy. There is reason to suspect that a President McCain would engage in a more assertive and unilateral foreign policy than Obama, though perhaps not to as great an extent as President Bush. His aggressive rhetoric on the threat posed by “radical Islamic extremism” hints at the way McCain thinks about matters of national security.

In a presidential campaign, many issues are vulnerable to hyperbole and distortion. Removed from the day-to-day concerns of many voters, foreign policy is particularly susceptible to such obfuscation. In many cases, a candidate's own words can fail to provide a clear picture of his or her foreign policy priorities. This is why it's often difficult to divine a candidate's specific policy on individual issue areas. But by looking at the breadth of their rhetoric and the depth of their records, voters can construct broad impressions of how each candidate thinks about foreign policy. Until then, it's safe to assume that no politician supports a policy of “appeasement,” regardless of what their opponents may say.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 May 2008

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:49 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

April 30, 2008

Bedside manner

Despite appearances to the contrary, the recent vitriol between Sens. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama masks some genuine differences between the Democratic candidates.

One particularly important difference involves health care. The difference, however, is not so much one of policy. It is really a distinction of process.

On substantive grounds, their health plans are very similar. Both would maintain the employer-based system of private insurance while introducing a public insurance option for consumers. Both would place significant new regulations on private insurers, forbidding them from denying coverage or charging higher rates to those with "pre-existing conditions."

But there is one major distinction: Clinton's plan includes a governmental mandate that every individual has health coverage, and Obama's doesn't.

Clinton argues that without a mandate, healthy people will not buy insurance and will seek health care only when they get sick. This could raise costs for everyone else and threaten the viability of any reformed health care system. Obama argues that the problem is not that people don't want health coverage; it's that they cannot afford it.

Much of the rhetoric between the candidates has muddled the issue: Is the ultimate goal of health reform an individual mandate or expanded coverage? One is an intermediate step; the other is the policy objective itself. Indeed, Obama is not opposed to the concept of mandates; his plan includes one for children, and he has repeatedly said he would consider one for adults if needed. Mandates aren't the issue - universal coverage is.

Or is it? Some have suggested that Obama's plan would leave more people uninsured than Clinton's. As a result, Obama no longer describes his plan as "universal." Clinton, however, still does. This only adds to the confusion. "Mandating" is not "providing" - just because the government requires something does not make it so.

The only truly "universal" system would be a single-payer model, in which the government automatically insures everyone. Neither candidate currently advocates such a system, or anything else that is really "universal." Rightly or wrongly, both Clinton and Obama are champions of the "near-universal."

But assume that mandates really are indispensable. In a health system still dependent on private insurers (as both Clinton and Obama propose), the clearest beneficiaries of an individual mandate would be private insurers. The mandate represents a bargain: The government gets tighter regulation of the insurance industry, and private insurers receive millions of guaranteed new customers in return. Clinton's plan, with its explicit mandate, concedes this deal up front. Obama's plan, without a mandate, does not. He simply starts from a stronger negotiating position than Clinton.

The health care debate actually highlights a far more important distinction between Clinton and Obama, one that goes beyond differences in their policy objectives to whether either candidate could actually achieve them as president.

Throughout their careers, Clinton and Obama have earned and deliberately nurtured distinct political personas. Clinton is the policy wonk and political street fighter, a tough survivor who seems to enjoy the fight as much as the outcome. She spearheaded the failed attempt to reform health care in 1993-94 - an effort stymied by secrecy, complexity and an unwillingness to consider outside ideas.

Obama is the community organizer - more results-oriented than ideological, more likely to see potential allies than certain enemies, and equipped with a keen sense of power relationships and negotiating strategy. His political career has been marked by pragmatism and a commitment to make government more transparent and accountable.

Essentially, Clinton's persona is divisive, while Obama's is inclusive. This has been reflected on the campaign trail, where Clinton has relied upon a core of Democratic partisans and Obama has depended on a broader base of people new to politics. These coalitions will affect the performance of either candidate in the general election. But they also will determine each candidate's effectiveness as president, where good governance is nothing without principled, successful coalition building.

Indeed, the greatest difference between Clinton and Obama is not over policy, but over process. Clinton and Obama may share similar policy destinations, but they would take very different paths to get there.

Despite the heated campaigning of recent weeks, no one should doubt the core principles of either Clinton or Obama. Both candidates have demonstrated their commitment to meaningful health care reform. The question is who is more likely to produce results, on health care and other issues. On that basis alone, the distinction is clear.

San Francisco Chronicle, 30 April 2008

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April 24, 2008

Special interests

By now, the Democratic primary has stretched on longer than almost anyone could have predicted. Senators Hilary Clinton (D-NY) and Barack Obama (D-IL) are each well-funded and broadly supported candidates. But as the race has dragged on, the sparring between Clinton and Obama—and between the Democrats and the Republican nominee, Senator John McCain (R-AZ)—has gotten more bitter, and the attacks more pointed. This is particularly true with the amorphous issue of “reform;” each candidate believes that they would be the most effective agent of change. In the presidential race, this issue is of particular importance in terms of foreign policy. But at this late stage of the campaign, the issue of reform is being treated more as a rhetorical football than as a serious issue.

In every election, candidates vie for the mantle of “reformer” or otherwise market themselves as change agents. This year, however, the issue has taken on a new level of prominence. In his slogans, speeches, and advertisements, Obama explicitly frames his candidacy in terms of “change.” Instead of downplaying his relatively brief time in Washington DC, Obama trumpets it as evidence of his outsider status: “I haven't spent a lot of time learning the ways of Washington. But I've been there long enough to know that the ways of Washington must change.” Both Obama and Clinton take advantage of the unpopular incumbency of a Republican administration. After eight years of President George Bush's particularly partisan style of governing, a simple change of parties alone would seem like a significant reform to many. Even the Republican nominee, John McCain, claims the mantle of reform. He has a record of bucking his own party and championing issues that would clean up the political process, such as campaign finance reform.

One of the more common ways the candidates have attempted to prove their reformist credentials is by trying to convince voters that they are more independent-minded than their competitors. On the Democratic side, both candidates believe it serves their electoral purposes to disassociate themselves from big businesses and other “special interests.” In a recent television advertisement in Pennsylvania, Obama claimed that he “didn't take money from oil companies.” Clinton immediately challenged this claim, noting that it has been illegal for corporations to contribute money directly to federal candidates since 1907. She also ran her own advertisements that highlighted the contributions Obama has received from individuals who work in the oil and gas industries.

Like an increasing number of disputes in the campaign, this particular episode was both relevant and superfluous, in ways that neither candidate had necessarily intended. It is certainly true that Obama has not taken money directly from oil companies; it is also true that no candidate has directly taken any money from any company, of any kind, for over 100 years. But corporations, like candidates, have long since adapted to this reality. For decades, they have been able to form political action committees (PACs) to promote their interests or those of their wider industries. PACs face specific limits on how (and from whom) they can raise money, and on how they may then use it to support their preferred political cause. But they are a common vehicle for corporations, unions, and other like-minded communities to channel financial support to a political candidate.

Obama often notes that his campaign does not accept contributions from lobbyists or from federally registered PACs (although he has received support from state-based PACs in previous campaigns). Clinton, on the other hand, does accept contributions from these sources. This political reality, however, is not easily boiled down to a 30 second television commercial or reduced to a pithy sound bite. When Obama claims not to have taken money from oil companies, he is technically correct. When Clinton criticizes him for making a meaningless assertion, she too is technically correct. And when Obama rebuts Clinton by noting that he, unlike her, takes no money from lobbyists or PACs, he is again technically correct. But by this point, the original distinction has been parsed and obscured to the point of irrelevance. The fact is that there is a legitimate distinction between Obama and Clinton on this particular issue. But the primary campaign has become so heated that legitimate distinctions are buried under the weight of rhetorical combat and political point scoring.

On the Republican side, John McCain faces something of a dilemma. He has a well-earned reputation as a political reformer. Along with Senator Russell Feingold (D-WI), McCain championed a major revision of campaign finance laws in 2002. He has taken positions at odds with many in his party, including his support for a cap-and-trade system to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, immigration reform, and his vocal opposition to torture. But as the nominee of the incumbent party, McCain cannot easily maintain his image as a sincere agent of change. Indeed, his Democratic opponents are sure to paint a potential McCain win, fairly or not, as four more years of Bush.

McCain has found that the scrutiny of a presidential campaign makes it nearly impossible for him to remain a pure reformer. In 2007, when the prospects for his campaign looked dim, McCain entered the presidential public financing system. This decision made him eligible to receive federal matching funds, but it also obligated him to abide by strict spending limits. In 2008, as his campaign rebounded, McCain sent a letter to the Federal Elections Commission (FEC) to announce his withdrawal from the public financing program. But McCain has exceeded the $54 million spending limit mandated under the public financing system, and the FEC has not been able to resolve the matter due to vacancies on the commission. The question is not just whether McCain successfully withdrew from the public financing system before he broke the spending limits, but if he was even permitted to leave the system after entering it in the first place. The issue may ultimately prove to be a minor one. But no matter how it is resolved, the mere impression that McCain broke campaign finance laws could seriously damage his reputation as a political reformer.

The question of which candidate is the more genuine “reformer” is a vexing one. On one hand, it is quite trivial. Unlike health care or tax policy, the issue of “reform” is amorphous, unspecific, and somewhat arbitrary. It is a great vehicle for a candidate to exaggerate their own credentials and unfairly attack another's qualifications. But on the other hand, “reform” is extremely important. At its heart, it is an issue of process. A policy is only as good as the likelihood of its enactment. If a candidate is financially beholden to a specific group, their policies may reflect the interests only of that group, at the unfair expense of others. Likewise, if a candidate is seen as bending the political rules for their own personal benefit, it will be more difficult for them to achieve their desired policy objectives. Process-based questions such as these are particularly important in the realm of foreign policy and national security, where the president has great ability to act independent of Congress. In a situation where the president has such freedom of action, a transparent and trustworthy process is the best way (and in some cases, the only way) to ensure some modicum of accountability.

In the hypersensitive context of a competitive campaign, however, it is impossible for any candidate—regardless of their qualifications, records, or credentials—to maintain the image as a pure reformer. If voters understand that no candidate's record is spotless, than the pretense of purity can be dismissed. But if no candidate can realistically hope to live up to their own lofty projections as reformers, they can only be judged (imperfectly) on their campaign rhetoric. In this sense, there are distinctions among the candidates. Each one emphasizes their reforming credentials in different ways, and each one relies upon reform-based arguments to different degrees. If a candidate speaks more often about change or reform, they will be more easily held accountable to such language if they win office. It is an imperfect way to measure the candidates, but with the campaign rhetoric at such a fevered pitch, it may have to suffice for now.

Foreign Policy Association, 24 April 2008

Posted by Daniel Widome at 08:13 PM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

March 27, 2008

Five years

The fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq generated a good deal of reflection on the course of the war so far. Unsurprisingly, much of this commentary emanated from the presidential candidates. Each one underscored the distinctions on Iraq and on foreign policy that have been inherent throughout their respective campaigns. But more than simply rehashing their plans for how to deal with the ongoing war, the candidates also reminded voters—subtly or not—of their positions on the original invasion itself, five years ago. It is these archival positions, perhaps more so than the candidates' current and future plans for Iraq, that provide a meaningful glimpse into how each one would conduct foreign policy as president.

Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) delivered two major speeches on the Iraq war on the occasion of the anniversary. The first addressed the conflict from a military and foreign policy perspective, in which he suggested that ending the occupation would, “allow us to more effectively confront other threats in the world.” These lingering threats included violent extremism, nuclear proliferation, global poverty, climate change, and economic competitiveness. The second speech examined the opportunity costs of the Iraq war on domestic policy. Obama argued that the costs of the war could be better spent on health care, infrastructure, education, and other domestic priorities. His underlying points differed little from what he has argued throughout his campaign. Obama was the only candidate to oppose the invasion from the beginning, and although he would “end” the war by gradually withdrawing most U.S. troops from Iraq, he would allow some to remain to protect diplomats and for counter-terrorism operations.

Senator Hillary Clinton (D-NY) also delivered a speech to commemorate the anniversary of the invasion. In many ways, it was broadly similar to Obama's speeches. Clinton advocates a gradual withdrawal of most U.S. troops from Iraq, but like Obama, she would allow for some forces to remain for counter-terrorism and other missions. Unlike Obama, however, she supported the initial invasion, and she voted for the 2002 authorization to use military force against Iraq. Much of her argument was based on credibility: “I believe what matters in this campaign is not just the promises we've made to end the war; what matters is what we've actually done when it came time to match words with action.” Clinton also echoed themes her campaign had been promoting in recent weeks, asserting that she had gained valuable foreign policy experience during her husband's administration in Bosnia and in Northern Ireland and implying that only she could be trusted to handle early morning phone calls on national security emergencies.

Senator John McCain (R-AZ) found himself in a somewhat different position. He had already secured the Republican nomination for president, so while his potential Democratic rivals continued their intramural campaigning in the United States, he led a congressional delegation to the Middle East and Europe. The trip offered an opportunity for McCain to bolster his image as a trusted foreign policy hand. Although he did not deliver a formal speech commemorating the invasion anniversary, his visit to Baghdad highlighted the success of last year's troop surge, which McCain strongly supported. Indeed, although McCain supported the initial invasion of Iraq, he was very critical of the manner in which former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld managed the aftermath. McCain's foreign trip made its greatest headlines, however, when he mistakenly asserted that, “al-Qaeda is going back into Iran and receiving training and are coming back into Iraq from Iran.” In fact, it is Shiite extremists who have received support from Iran, not al Qaeda fighters.

Clearly, there are many differences between the ways the candidates approached the invasion anniversary. Among the Democrats, Obama wanted to amplify his differences with Clinton, specifically on the topic of his opposition to the initial invasion. Clinton, on the other hand, wanted to diminish these differences, pointing to the similarity of their Senate voting records since 2005. The problem with this construction, however, is that the “Iraq war” is not a static policy. In many ways, the original invasion and the subsequent occupation of Iraq are very different issues. Although Clinton is correct in noting that she and Obama have each voted to fund the war, this has no bearing on the fact that Obama opposed the invasion before it happened while Clinton supported it. Indeed, this is perhaps the most relevant issue, because the decision to invade Iraq was the one from which all of the subsequent tough choices and tragic losses sprang.

The candidates' positions on the initial invasion also raise a larger question of strategy. Essentially, it differentiates those who thought the war has simply been mismanaged from those who thought it was a fundamentally flawed concept from the start. Obama, Clinton, and McCain would all agree that the war was has been grossly mismanaged, at least at certain points over the last five years. But having supported the initial invasion, one might assume that Clinton and McCain believe in the strategy that was used to justify the war in the first place. Such a strategy, pioneered by the infamous “neoconservatives” in the Bush administration, amplifies the role of the military in deterring potential threats and promoting democratic reform abroad. It is a strategy that risks conflating state-based threats with non-state actors, and it shapes U.S. public diplomacy in an unyielding way.

The candidates' positions on the initial invasion might also speak to their underlying judgment and political courage. The congressional vote on the Iraq war resolution in October 2002 was deliberately stage-managed by war advocates within the Bush administration. It was held in an environment of lingering post-9/11 fear, immediately prior to a mid-term election. Polls at the time suggested that many people were generally supportive of military action against Iraq. In such an environment, and regardless of a senator or congressman's honest position, it was politically very difficult to oppose the war resolution. In retrospect, however, it may also have been very prescient.

Any differences among the Democrats pales in comparison to the differences between them and the Republicans. Although Obama and Clinton speak of the need to “end” the war, McCain is unabashed in his support for continuing it. Such support is indicative of his broader foreign policy thinking. Since he ran for president in 2000, McCain has been a strong advocate for an assertive and aggressive foreign policy. He has spoken of maintaining U.S. military supremacy around the world and of confronting threats before they become too dangerous. In this context, McCain's arguments for continuing the war in Iraq are actually quite valid. If U.S. troops were to withdraw from Iraq, the country could descend into a level of violence far greater than what it has already experienced. An unstable Iraq could serve as a base for al Qaeda or other terrorist groups, and the country could be highly susceptible to the influence of an assertive, hostile Iran. Indeed, many Democrats' calls for an immediate U.S. withdrawal from Iraq fail to adequately address these concerns.

But McCain's misstatement in Jordan, about the non-existent connection between al Qaeda and Iran, is eerily reminiscent of one of the greatest mistakes made by invasion advocates five years ago: the conflation of disparate and unique threats into single, undifferentiated menace. Al Qaeda and Iran are not allies, much like Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein were not allies. As a Defense Department review of over 600,000 Iraqi documents determined just this month, there was no “direct operational link” between Saddam Hussein's Iraq and al Qaeda. If McCain's foreign policy is premised on an aggressive assertion of U.S. power, a vital pre-condition for such a policy would be an accurate understanding about the threats facing the country and valid intelligence as to its whereabouts. It might be easy, and perhaps tempting, to dismiss McCain's misstatement as a simple, inadvertent slip of the tongue. But given his promise of an assertive foreign policy, McCain's misstatement could raise questions about what lessons he has learned about the events set into motion five years ago.

None of this is to suggest that similarities on Iraq do not exist among the presidential candidates. All of them acknowledge that troops will remain Iraq for some time, albeit in different numbers and for different reasons. For Democrats, in particular, this could come as an unpleasant shock. But it reflects the bureaucratic and geopolitical reality. Strategically, Iraq is simply a good place to plant the U.S. flag, and if the bases are already there, it will be exceedingly difficult for any politician—of any party—to fight the bureaucratic and political inertia of just staying put. This is yet another reminder of why the single, most important decision of the entire war was the one made five years ago: the original decision to invade Iraq. Fortunately, on that basis if on no others, there is a clear distinction among the candidates.

Foreign Policy Association, 27 March 2008

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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

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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

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December 20, 2007

Home stretch

As the Iowa caucuses and the New Hampshire primary rapidly approach, the “real” presidential campaign is about to begin. The first actual votes are about to be cast, lending a visceral certainty to a campaign season that has at times seemed amorphous and detached. As it has throughout the campaign, foreign policy is shaping both the candidates and the way voters perceive them. But in the final days of 2007, some surprises are emerging, both in the United States and abroad. As events unfold in the coming weeks, competing notions of foreign policy “experience” may have an unforeseen role in how the primary season enters the New Year.

In recent weeks, both the Democratic and the Republican fields have witnessed late challenges to the prevailing front runners. The successes of Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) and former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee are unique phenomena, but some have suggested that they share a common root: Neither candidate has much in the way of traditional foreign policy “experience,” and with good news (or no news) recently emerging from the “axis of evil” countries of Iraq, Iran, and North Korea, voters are becoming less concerned with international affairs.

On the surface, this argument has some merit. In Iraq, U.S. military deaths have declined from 126 in May 2007 to 37 in November 2007. Casualties among Iraqi security forces and civilians have also declined, although they still remain high. This trend is at least partly the result of shifts in U.S. policy. The “surge” of troops into Baghdad that began early in 2007 is increasing security in that city (although the decline in violence there is also attributable to a greater segregation of Sunni and Shia neighborhoods), and the U.S. policy of cooperating with Sunni tribal leaders against al Qaeda-inspired elements in their midst is also bearing fruit. At this point, the reasons behind the relative decline in bloodshed have little bearing on the intra-party primary campaigns—Republican candidates generally support the war, while Democrats generally do not. But voters in both parties are getting the impression that things in Iraq aren’t as bad as they once were.

Such good news, or the perception thereof, has also emanated from Iran. In December 2007, a new National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) was released that cast significant doubt on Iran’s nuclear program. Specifically, it “judge[d] with high confidence that in fall 2003, Tehran halted its nuclear weapons program.” It further noted that, “the program probably was halted primarily in response to international pressure, suggest[ing] Iran may be more vulnerable to influence on the issue than we judged previously.” This remarkable assessment contradicted years of foreboding rhetoric from the Bush administration, which recently suggested that Iranian nuclear know-how would be a harbinger of World War III. The NIE greatly diminished the likelihood of a direct military confrontation between the United States and Iran, at least over the short-term. Almost overnight, Iran has been relegated from a seemingly imminent threat to a rational, deterrable actor. Consciously or not, this perception may be leading voters in the early primary and caucus states to de-emphasize traditional foreign policy “experience” in their evaluation of the presidential contenders.

In a similar vein, the once-imposing threat presented by North Korea has seemed to recede in recent months. In February 2007, an agreement was reached in the six-party talks that would lead to a full disclosure and ultimate abandonment of North Korea’s nuclear program. The implementation of the agreement has fallen behind schedule—North Korea will likely miss the December 31, 2007 deadline of fully disabling its Yongbyon nuclear facility. But the fact that the agreement was reached, and that all parties agree that it is being implemented, goes a long way toward mitigating the perceived threat from North Korea. In fact, in a move that would have been unthinkable a few years ago, President Bush recently wrote a letter directly to North Korean leader Kim Jong Il, urging him continue fulfilling the six-party agreement. Addressing the man he once called a “tyrant” and a “pygmy” more respectfully as “Dear Mr. Chairman,” Bush wrote, “I want to emphasize that the declaration [of North Korea’s nuclear programs] must be complete and accurate if we are to continue our progress.”

Taken together, the recent news from Iraq, Iran, and North Korea makes the “axis of evil” seem a little less so, conceivably opening the door to candidates with less in the way of traditional foreign policy “experience.” For the Democrats, the front runner status of Senator Hillary Clinton (D-NY) has rested in large part on her foreign policy credentials: her perceived “experience” and her perceived “strength.” But in terms of foreign policy “experience,” the differences between Clinton and Obama have never been terribly stark. The only way a legislator can gain foreign policy “experience” is by serving on a relevant committee—something that both Clinton (on the Senate Armed Services Committee) and Obama (on the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee) have done. Clinton has differentiated herself, however, on the matter of “strength,” especially of the military variety. Her initial support for the Iraq invasion and her vote in favor of the Kyl-Lieberman amendment in September 2007—which declared that U.S. forces in Iraq should be used to deter Iranian influence—positioned her as more hawkish than many of her fellow Democrats. Obama, on the other hand, opposed the invasion of Iraq in 2002 and has consistently advocated for a more direct and transparent form of diplomacy than Clinton. His expressed openness to meet with leaders of unfriendly countries, such as Iran, appears prescient in the wake of the latest NIE (for more, see The Water’s Edge, August 2007).

For the Republicans, the picture is somewhat murkier. Depending on the poll, former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney, or Senator John McCain (R-AZ), could each stake a reasonable claim to front runner status. Each could argue, in their own way, that they possessed foreign policy “experience:” Giuliani was mayor of New York during the 9/11 attacks, Romney was an international businessman, and McCain is war veteran and longtime member of the Senate Armed Services Committee. But in recent weeks, Huckabee has emerged out of seemingly nowhere to take the lead in many statewide polls and to make impressive gains in national polls. As a former governor of Arkansas, he would struggle to make even a strained claim to foreign policy “experience.” But his newfound popularity generates newfound scrutiny, and every serious presidential contender must present his foreign policy thinking. Huckabee certainly has done this, most recently in an article in Foreign Affairs. He takes some shots at the current president, suggesting, “the Bush administration's arrogant bunker mentality has been counterproductive at home and abroad.” He says that a Huckabee administration, “will recognize that the United States' main fight today does not pit us against the world but pits the world against the terrorists” without “surrender[ing] any of our sovereignty.”

The real question, though, is whether good news abroad is serving to de-emphasize the importance of foreign policy in the primary race, opening the door to traditionally inexperienced candidates like Obama and Huckabee. Although attempting to rationalize electoral preferences is a risky business, there does appear to be some correlation with the good news from abroad and the late surges in the primary. But correlation is not causation. The casualty figures from Iraq may be declining, but U.S. soldiers are still dying on a daily basis and the military is only becoming more strained. Meanwhile, little progress has been made toward political reconciliation among Iraq’s ethnic and religious groups. Iran may have suspended its nuclear program in 2003, but why did U.S. intelligence agencies get it wrong in their 2005 NIE? What if they’re wrong now? And even if North Korea is moving to dismantle its nuclear infrastructure, it remains a source of uncertainty in an increasingly dynamic region of the world. Despite appearances to the contrary, the world beyond U.S. borders is still there, and it’s still deeply troubled. To assume that good news (or no news) from overseas trouble spots would lead voters to forget that—especially in the midst of the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—is to dangerously underestimate the U.S. electorate.

The movement in the primary race is more likely due to the simple vagaries of presidential politics—surprises, especially late in the game, should be expected. But the rise of Obama and Huckabee, and indeed the rise and fall of any presidential candidate, raises questions about the true nature of foreign policy “experience.” Although a presidential contender can master the legislative process by serving in the Senate or acquire keen executive skills by serving as governor, he or she cannot gain true foreign policy expertise just by holding elective office. Perhaps more than any other policy domain, foreign policy emphasizes style as much as substance. A candidate may never have been Secretary of State or held an ambassadorship, but if they speak about international affairs in a clear, consistent, and logical manner, a voter could reasonably expect the candidate to conduct their foreign policy in a similar way (for more, see The Water’s Edge, September 2007). As the January caucuses and primaries approach, that may be all that voters have to go on.

Foreign Policy Association, 20 December 2007

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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

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October 25, 2007

Inferiority complex

In recent weeks, the House of Representatives has dipped its toe into a pool of international and historical animosity. The partial success of a resolution condemning the 1915 mass killings and deportations of Armenians by the Ottoman Empire—it passed a House committee but has not yet been considered by the full House—took many by surprise. In reality, the furor surrounding this resolution was simply the latest episode in the long story of Congressional involvement with overseas historical controversies, particularly by the House. But in its repeated attempts to prove relevant and meet narrow constituent demands, the House of Representatives inadvertently risks becoming a detrimental force in U.S. foreign policy.

On October 10, the House Foreign Affairs Committee passed House Resolution 106 by a vote of 27 to 21. The resolution did not mandate any specific action, but it offered official condemnation of the mass killings and deportations of Armenians by the Ottoman Empire during World War I. Support from Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) and dozens of co-sponsors suggested that the resolution might make it to the House floor, where it very likely would win passage. On a factual basis, the resolution stood on solid ground. Scholars and experts agree that the Ottoman Turks deported and killed anywhere from a few hundred thousand to several million ethnic Armenians during World War I—actions that may fairly be described as genocide. Representative Tom Lantos (D-CA), Chair of the Foreign Affairs Committee, noted that, “one of the problems we have diplomatically globally is that we have lost our moral authority which we used to have in great abundance.”

On a political basis, however, the resolution generated enormous controversy. Modern Turkey—the geographic successor to the Ottoman Empire—has always been extremely (if not irrationally) sensitive about this period in its history. Turkey briefly recalled its ambassador to the United States, and its top general, Yasar Buyukanit, proclaimed, “if this resolution passed in the committee passes the House as well, our military ties with the U.S. will never be the same again.” All eight living former U.S. secretaries of state signed a joint letter to Pelosi warning that the resolution “would endanger our national security interests.” In the face of these attacks, as well as opposition from the Bush administration and from military leaders who noted Turkey's logistical importance in supporting the war in Iraq, Pelosi has backtracked from her early willingness to move the resolution to the House floor: “Whether it will come up for a floor vote or not, what the action will be remains to be seen.” For now, the resolution lies in limbo.

This wasn't the first time the House has inserted itself into a matter of historical controversy abroad. In July, it passed a resolution calling on Japan to formally acknowledge its coercion of women from China, Korea, and other occupied countries into sexual slavery as “comfort women” during World War II. Although wartime abuses by the Japanese military are firmly established as historical fact, the question of how contemporary Japanese governments acknowledge such abuses is very much a contentious issue. Japan's ambassador to the United States, Ryozo Kato, said passage of the resolution, “will almost certainly have lasting and harmful effects on the deep friendship, close trust and wide-ranging cooperation our two nations now enjoy.” Unlike the Armenian genocide resolution, the comfort women resolution ultimately passed both the Foreign Affairs Committee and the full House. But the two resolutions shared many similarities. Each was non-binding, each dealt directly with important U.S. allies overseas, and each unearthed old historical controversies.

Perhaps the most important similarity between the Armenian genocide resolution and the comfort women resolution is their shared functional origin: the House of Representatives. Under the Constitution, the House is clearly designated as the lower chamber of the legislature. Although all revenue bills must originate there, it is the Senate that must approve executive appointees and ratify international treaties. To be sure, the legislature is inherently limited in the foreign policy role it can play. But by design and by tradition, the Senate has always been the pre-eminent chamber of Congress in terms of foreign policy. This has stuck the House with something of an inferiority complex. Passing non-binding resolutions on seemingly obscure, historical issues often seems like a good way for an internationally-handicapped House to have a voice in foreign policy.

The House's foreign policy inferiority complex is magnified by structural factors. The House has always been the “people's chamber.” Senators serve six-year terms, represent entire states, and have only been directly elected for less than 100 years. Representatives, on the other hand, serve two-year terms, represent much smaller and more homogenous districts, and have been directly elected throughout U.S. history. The distinctions between the two chambers are very much by design. The Senate was to be a sober, deliberative body somewhat insulated from rapid swings of public opinion, while the House was to be more directly responsive to the immediate, localized interests of the electorate. To a remarkable degree, the structure works as intended. The main sponsor of the Armenian genocide resolution is Representative Adam Schiff (D-CA), whose district is home to approximately 75,000 Armenian-Americans—one of the largest concentrations of ethnic Armenians in the United States. The main sponsor of the comfort women resolution was Representative Mike Honda (D-CA), who represents a district that is nearly 30% Asian—a figure that includes many Chinese- and Korean-Americans.

The fact that House members are particularly responsive to their constituents' interests (and money) is perhaps a good thing—it's how representative democracy is supposed to work. But the House is doubly limited in its influence on U.S. foreign policy. Not only does it face the functional limitations inherent to the legislative branch, the House must also cope with the structural handicap that comes from being the lower chamber of Congress. This means that its forays into foreign policy often carry the unfortunate distinction of being both toothless and shortsighted. Neither the Armenian genocide resolution nor the comfort women resolution mandated any change in U.S. policy. But by digging up far-away historical controversies in order to prove relevant and meet narrow constituent demands, the House risks overlooking vital contemporary context.

Although measures condemning the Armenian genocide have been introduced in Congress in the past, the timing of this most recent resolution is uniquely counterproductive. In recent years, Turkey has become increasingly wary of the West, in general, and the United States, in particular. Turks overwhelmingly opposed the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq, and since then, Turkish popular perception of the United States has only worsened. According to the Pew Global Attitudes Project, just 9% of Turks had a favorable impression of the United States this year, down from 52% in 2000. Shortly after the House Foreign Affairs committee passed the Armenian genocide resolution, the Turkish parliament authorized its government to strike PKK strongholds in Kurdish-controlled northern Iraq—a move motivated, in part, by perceived U.S. inaction toward recent attacks by that group in southeastern Turkey. As a secular, democratic, and predominantly Muslim state located in a strategic corner of the globe, Turkey is an indispensable U.S. ally. Although modern Turkey is far too sensitive about abuses committed by its imperial predecessor, measures such as the Armenian genocide resolution threaten to embolden vitriolic and nationalist elements in Turkey that could turn the country away from the West. However real the Armenian genocide may have been, it serves no one's interests to endanger the U.S.-Turkey relationship for reasons of limited contemporary value and zero substantive consequence.

The effects of the comfort women resolution were somewhat less severe, but they were equally unhelpful, and equally unintended. For many reasons, East Asian politics continue to be shaped by World War II and by the region's conflicting interpretations of wartime history. Japan has never truly grappled with or acknowledged its wartime responsibility, and Japan's neighbors frequently use this fact to inhibit current relations. There is no doubt that the Japanese military forced women from occupied countries into sexual slavery during the war. But when presented with the House resolution, nationalistic Japanese politicians felt compelled to respond. “It is extremely regrettable that the resolution is definitely not based on facts,” noted Taro Aso, then Japanese Foreign Minister. This comment and others like it had little direct effect on U.S.-Japan relations. But in the hypersensitive diplomatic world of East Asia, where historical slights can inflame contemporary problems, such comments do not help Japan’s relations with China, Korea, or any other formerly occupied country.

None of this is to suggest that members of the House of Representatives should remain silent on issues of foreign policy. It is their responsibility as elected officials to represent their constituents and to shape public policy. Indeed, in a democracy, it is absolutely vital that citizens are engaged in the foreign policy-making process, and the House facilitates this function. But in its attempts to simultaneously prove relevant on the international stage and meet narrow constituent demands, the House of Representatives risks being counterproductive, if not outright harmful. As it continues to delve into contentious issues of history and foreign policy, the House would be well advised to temper its passion with a dose of much-needed context.

Foreign Policy Association, 25 October 2007

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September 28, 2007

Hyperbolic insight

As the first primaries of the 2008 presidential election rapidly approach, the campaign rhetoric has heated up. Desperate to consolidate their leads or topple the front-runners, the presidential candidates have become increasingly comfortable with hyperbole, exaggeration, and obfuscation. Although these tricks may seem like easy ways to win media attention and campaign dollars, they aren't always the best ways to articulate a governing agenda. They do serve a purpose, however, although not necessarily to the candidate's benefit.

To be sure, the candidates have been issuing political hyperbole for some time. At a Republican debate in May, Republican candidate Mitt Romney, the former governor of Massachusetts, was asked about his views on the terrorist detention facility at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. “Some people have said we ought to close Guantanamo. My view is we ought to double Guantanamo,” said Romney. As a political statement, this won Romney points from Republican voters who value the perception of “toughness” against terrorists. Indeed, it's mildly surprising that none of Romney's Republican competitors tried to raise his claim and offer to triple or quadruple the size of Guantanamo. As a policy statement, however, Romney's statement was nonsensical, akin to claiming a desire to double the size of the U.S. prison population, without any consideration of guilt, innocence, or due process.

The former Massachusetts governor is not alone. Congressman Tom Tancredo (R-CO), also competing for the Republican nomination, has noted, “if it is up to me, we are going to explain that an attack on this homeland … would be followed by an attack on the holy sites in Mecca and Medina.” Such a statement is clearly outrageous, and to their credit, many of Tancredo's fellow Republican candidates repudiated his comments. Indeed, his comments set off a peculiar exchange with the State Department, which described his statements as “absolutely crazy.” Instead of taking offense at the castigation, however, Tancredo seemed to revel in it: “Boy, when they [the State Department] start complaining about things I say, I feel a lot better about the things I say, I'll tell you right now.” This response demonstrated a larger point: Tancredo's statement was intended to differentiate his candidacy for a domestic audience, not necessarily to advocate his policy for an international one. Recklessness, evidently, is a small price to pay for attention.

Democratic candidates are not immune to the temptation for hyperbole, either. Bill Richardson, the governor of New Mexico, has insisted that all U.S. troops should leave Iraq and that an all-Muslim UN force be inserted deployed in their place. Calling for a withdrawal from Iraq has long-since become mainstream among Democrats. Although experts may quibble about the details of a withdrawal, the fundamental policy premise is sensible. But insisting on the deployment of a UN force—much less an all-Muslim one—is something beyond the abilities of a U.S. president. Despite its international heft, the United States cannot simply compel the United Nations to do something on its own. Beyond that, it is highly questionable that the UN could muster a sufficient force from only its Muslim member states. Just as the United States cannot compel the UN to deploy peacekeepers, the UN cannot compel unwilling member states to contribute soldiers. As an ultimate policy objective, Richardson's ideas might make sense. But in a domestic political campaign, vital context and nuance fall by the wayside, and the public is left misinformed.

Former senator John Edwards shares Richardson's desire to withdraw U.S. forces from Iraq. A major piece of his plan, and one that he cites frequently, is an “immediate withdrawal of 40,000-50,000 combat troops.” This may sound great to Democratic primary voters who oppose the war in Iraq and seek a quick end to it. But the position is also strikingly arbitrary. Why, for example, would Edwards withdraw 40,000-50,000 troops and not 30,000, or 60,000? Indeed, assuming that it would take at least several weeks (if not months) to “immediately” withdraw 40,000-50,000 troops, why does he not call instead for an “immediate” withdrawal of all U.S. troops? Edwards does not offer explanations for these legitimate policy questions, but then again, he doesn't have to. His statements are, first and foremost, political in nature. If he had any reason to believe that further details would boost his standing in the polls or help his fundraising efforts, Edwards would surely jump at the chance to provide them.

Such comments, designed for domestic consumption, can clearly make an impact overseas (for more, see Election Watch, August 2007). Election Watch, August 2007). Because Guantanamo Bay is as divisive an issue abroad as it is in the United States, Romney's full-throated support of its detention facilities shape the world's view of him. Tancredo's indelicate thoughts on deterring terrorism earned condemnation from the speaker of Pakistan's National Assembly, among others. On the issue of Iraq, foreign leaders are fully aware that it will be very difficult for Democrats to begin a significant withdrawal of U.S. forces as long as President Bush remains in office. They further know that any critique emanating from governors or former legislators—such as Richardson and Edwards—carries less weight than that coming from current senators.

Even if it must be discounted as electoral posturing, and although it may have unintended or damaging effects abroad, this season's political hyperbole does serve a certain purpose: It offers an insight into a candidate's underlying worldview and their substantive rigor. Voters may not be able to trust that Romney would actually “double Guantanamo,” but they can confidently infer that he would pursue aggressive policies against suspected terrorists and support the expanded powers of the executive branch. Democrats know that as a mere candidate, Edwards cannot “immediately” withdraw 40,000-50,000 troops from Iraq. But if his campaign pronouncements lack detail or consistency, his policies as president may be similarly plagued. The same principle is applicable elsewhere. If a campaign experiences a great deal of staff turnover, voters could infer that the candidate is a poor manager. If he or she is a listless public speaker, they may well have difficulty mustering popular support for important policies. The reverse can also be true. If a candidate shies away from excessive political hyperbole, one could infer that they value sound governance over winning-at-any-cost. Alternatively, voters could suspect that the candidate lacks the stomach for a political fight.

Clearly, sifting through political hyperbole can resemble fortune telling. It is, after all, no more or less trustworthy than anything else a politician might say. But the hyperbole does represent a window—albeit a distorted one—into the candidate's underlying worldview and their substantive rigor. The hyperbole will, by definition, exaggerate or mischaracterize these underlying truths. But however obscured they may be, hints of such truths remain present in every breathless pronouncement or faux display of earnestness a candidate makes. And as extreme as their hyperbole may seem, candidates are almost always better judged by their own words than by those of their competitors. For that reason alone, voters nationwide would be well advised to stay patient. The rising volumes of rhetoric emanating from Iowa and New Hampshire aren't just hot air.

Foreign Policy Association, 27 September 2007

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September 03, 2007

Bleak comparison

Parallels between the war in Iraq and the war in Vietnam practically draw themselves. Many have long since noted the most obvious similarities: In each conflict, the United States struggled to defeat an unconventional enemy, using unorthodox tactics, in an unforgiving environment.

Recently, President Bush drew his own parallel: “Then as now, people argued the real problem was America’s presence and that if we would just withdraw, the killing would end.” Of course, any comparison between the wars in Vietnam and Iraq is bound to be nearly as controversial as the conflicts themselves. But beyond the hyperbole, relevant comparisons are there to be made. And as the momentum to exit Iraq gathers steam, the lessons from Vietnam can be particularly illuminating.

During the U.S. war in Vietnam, roughly from 1965 to 1973, troop levels varied greatly, climbing to a peak of over 500,000 in early 1969. The withdrawal of combat troops, however, actually began in earnest that very same year, as President Nixon tried to implement his “Vietnamization” policy of shifting the burden of the fight to the South Vietnamese. Troop levels dropped gradually over the coming years, as South Vietnam shouldered a greater combat burden and as negotiations with North Vietnam progressed in fits and starts. Withdrawal of combat troops from Vietnam was completed in 1972 (although “advisers” remained behind), and the Paris Peace Accords — which formally ended U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War — were signed in early 1973. From the U.S. perspective, these accords provided an expedient cover for the military withdrawal, or a “peace with honor,” as Nixon described it. Of course, neither the United States nor its South Vietnamese allies saw much of either. The Paris accords ultimately fell apart, and South Vietnam fell to the North in 1975.

By contrast, U.S. troop levels in Iraq have remained fairly consistent through the war — 100,000-200,000 since the invasion, in 2003. This has remained true both through Bush’s own strategy of “Vietnamization” (when the emphasis was on training Iraqis to assume security responsibilities from the United States) as well as his latest “surge” strategy (emphasizing the security of Baghdad with U.S. troops).

Moving forward, the comparison with Vietnam falls apart even more. The various Iraqi resistance groups lack a formal state sponsor with which the U.S. could negotiate a withdrawal; despite its clear influence, Iran cannot play the role of North Vietnam today. A regional diplomatic dialogue may emerge alongside the withdrawal process, and the U.S. will surely try to coordinate its departure with the Iraqi government. But the eventual U.S. withdrawal will probably not be accompanied by the same kind of political or diplomatic cover that the Paris Accords offered in Vietnam. As unsuccessful as the Paris Accords were, though, it isn’t clear that such cover is really that valuable.

Despite these differences, one important lesson can be gleaned: Withdrawal does not occur for withdrawal’s sake alone. The U.S. departure from Vietnam did not occur in isolation, and the eventual U.S. withdrawal from Iraq won’t, either. In each case, the military departure will be part of a broader political and military strategy with goals beyond the simple extrication of U.S. forces. Given its global standing, the United States does not have the luxury of simply leaving devastated, chaotic countries in its military’s wake. Rather, any military withdrawal from Iraq will be but one component of a broader strategy designed to ensure stability and security in that country. This is not to say that such a strategy will be successful; it certainly wasn’t so in Vietnam, and the prospects are dim for anything better in Iraq. But it does suggest that the withdrawal from Iraq will not be quick, and it will not be easy. This is a reality that will confront Democrats and Republicans alike.

Another interesting parallel between Vietnam and Iraq does present itself. Throughout the prolonged, gradual withdrawal from Vietnam, the United States continued to suffer casualties. It also remained very engaged in combat operations, specifically in the form of the aerial bombardment of North Vietnam. From the perspective of many on both sides of the conflict, then, the U.S. withdrawal process was somewhat illusory — the troops may have been leaving, but the war was still on. The same will probably be true in Iraq. The United States has invested so much in its military infrastructure in Iraq that a complete, 100 percent withdrawal remains unlikely for the foreseeable future. And even as the troops begin to leave, their air cover will remain in place, based from carriers in the Persian Gulf and from other bases throughout the region.

Compared with Vietnam, the bombers over Iraq may be faster and their bombs smarter. But as in Southeast Asia, it’s unlikely that the Iraq war will end when the last U.S. soldier leaves the battlefield.

Providence Journal, 4 September 2007

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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

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August 07, 2007

On foreign policy: Obama's choice

After months of enduring repeated accusations that he lacked policy substance, Barack Obama now faces the opposite problem. In recent weeks, as the Illinois senator has fleshed out his foreign policy agenda, he has encountered increasing criticism from across the political spectrum. Liberal bloggers suspect Obama is a closet neoconservative, while conservative pundits declare him unsuited for the presidency. He has lately been called naive, irresponsible, unpredictable, confused, and reckless - among other, less diplomatic labels.

In reality, most of these attacks have little substantive basis, and they simply represent the standard give-and-take found in all presidential campaigns. But beyond that, the attacks are rooted in a basic misunderstanding of Obama's unconventional approach to both policy and to politics. Essentially, they reveal something fundamentally unique about Obama's political character and his overall worldview.

Substantively, the specific questions about Obama's foreign policy proposals are not exactly unimportant, but they are off base. In a Democratic presidential candidates debate several weeks ago, Obama expressed his willingness to meet with unfriendly foreign leaders, such as those from Iran and Venezuela. Contrary to charges of "naivete" from Sen. Hillary Clinton, he actually made no commitment or pledge to hold such meetings. Forced into political battle by Clinton's attack, however, Obama fought back, portraying his unvarnished emphasis on diplomacy as transparent, sensible, and entirely uncontroversial. Indeed, each of Obama's fellow Democratic candidates has stressed a need for greater diplomacy throughout their respective campaigns, but in far hazier terms. Obama's position, then, was notable more for its tone than for its substance, which itself was a relevant distinction. In politics as in diplomacy, style often is substance.

In a speech outlining his anti-terrorism proposals a week later, Obama suggested that he would attack high-value al Qaeda targets in Pakistan, if that country wouldn't do so itself. This assertion was welcomed with attacks from the political left, which seemed to confuse Obama's opposition to the Iraq war with an opposition to fighting al Qaeda. On its merits, Obama's statement was hardly scandalous. The area in which Osama bin Laden is suspected of hiding - in the rough terrain bordering Afghanistan - is a veritable no-man's land, nominally part of Pakistan, but in reality beyond any state's control. For more than a decade, U.S. policy has held that al Qaeda targets in such regions were fair game for attack. President Bill Clinton launched cruise missiles against al Qaeda targets in Afghanistan and Sudan in 1998, and President Bush used a missile-carrying drone to destroy a vehicle carrying an al Qaeda leader in Yemen in 2002. Obama's position, then, was more sensible than revolutionary, as the subsequent concurrences of his fellow Democratic candidates only confirmed.

Finally, in a recent interview, Obama ruled out the use of nuclear weapons against al Qaeda targets in Afghanistan and Pakistan, raising suspicions that he was somehow "weak" in his determination to defend the United States. But like Obama's other statements, the controversy surrounding this one was more contrived than useful. Al Qaeda is, by definition, a non-state actor. It does not wield any degree of territorial sovereignty, and it will never offer targets so large, so fixed, or so hardened as to justify a nuclear strike. As Obama limited his statement to al Qaeda-related targets only, his assertion had no bearing on the grisly, but necessary, deterrent role played by the U.S. nuclear arsenal against potential state-based threats. As several foreign policy experts subsequently noted, Obama's sin (if any) was one of excessive honesty, not of policy impropriety.

Even beyond the substance of these recent spats, and essential to understanding their real significance, Obama presents a fundamental challenge to the reigning political orthodoxy. This challenge is rooted in his political upbringing as a pragmatic community organizer, not as an ideological street fighter. Obama's instincts emphasize results, consensus, and transparency over doctrinal loyalty, needless conflict, and self-serving obfuscation. His more myopic critics deride this emphasis on pragmatism over ideology as a kind of soft bipartisanship. To be sure, compromise for its own sake - bereft of independent principle - can be as useless and damaging as ideological artifice. But this has never been Obama's political style. Instead, he regularly attempts to transcend the self-limiting political constructs of "left," "right," and "centrist" with an approach that emphasizes results.

These political instincts were best demonstrated in 2002, with Obama's succinct explanation of why he opposed the impending invasion of Iraq: "I am not opposed to all wars. I'm opposed to dumb wars." At that time - in the wake of 9/11 and before the quagmire of Iraq - political passions were uniquely inflamed. For many, the choice was stark: support the Bush administration's aggressive policies in Afghanistan and Iraq, or oppose them. Defenders of the reigning political orthodoxy portrayed these policy options as a binary choice, on opposite ends of a two-dimensional spectrum, with seemingly little tolerance for a position that didn't fit into their prescribed framework. Obama's position - in support of the effort in Afghanistan, but opposed to an invasion of Iraq - seems strikingly sensible today. But in 2002, it was something of a heretical view on the national stage, and it flouted the political orthodoxy ensconced in Washington.

Obama's critics, then as now, are unable to pin him down ideologically. They find themselves unwittingly confounded by his refusal to play the traditional games expected of a national political figure. The choice that Obama implicitly offers to voters is not between competing ideologies, which is the choice traditionally presented in presidential elections and was the one provided prior to the invasion of Iraq in 2002. Rather, the choice offered by Obama is between pragmatism and ideology. Lacking the appropriate political vocabulary, and threatened by Obama's campaign success thus far, his critics mistake his unconventional thinking for naiveté, his nuance for inconsistency, and his clarity for obfuscation.

Contrary to the assertions of many of his critics, the policy positions revealed by Obama in recent weeks are part-and-parcel of an entirely consistent worldview. In April, Obama delivered a comprehensive foreign policy speech that was peppered with just the kind of sensible, pragmatic, and straightforward ideas that have come to define his politics. Although he reiterated his initial opposition to the Iraq war and his desire for a U.S. withdrawal from that country, he resisted the impulse from the political left for a U.S. disengagement from the world, asserting that, "the security of the American people is inextricably linked to the security of all people." Although he called for the renewal of diplomatic partnerships and alliances, he also spoke of rebuilding and expanding the U.S. military, "to protect ourselves and our vital interests when we are attacked or imminently threatened." This was all topped off by a strong emphasis on stopping the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, a niche issue of limited visibility but tremendous importance that Obama has quickly made his own during his brief Senate tenure.

Such a plan is very characteristic of Obama's political instincts. He has just as little patience for the principled gridlock that comes from ideological artifice as he does for the unprincipled compromise that comes from self-serving bipartisanship. In other words, Obama regularly gives ample fodder for political extremists of all stripes to both praise and criticize. Ideological purists loathe it. Many voters seem to love it.

San Francisco Chronicle, 7 August 2007

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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)

June 29, 2007

Immigration compromise

Of all the praise and criticism he has received over the past seven years, one thing can be said with certainty about President Bush. He has painted his presidency in big, bold strokes, displaying a remarkable degree of political stubbornness throughout. The president’s pursuit of immigration reform has certainly fit this pattern. Since his time as governor of Texas, Bush had displayed an intense, personal interest in immigration policy. As president, he has continued to pursue immigration reform in the face of serious opposition from many of his political allies.

In recent weeks, a surprise compromise on immigration reform was reached by a bipartisan group of Senators. The sudden re-emergence of the issue in Congress was matched by an outpouring of equally bipartisan opposition that appeared to kill the prospect of immigration reform once and for all. But as he has consistently done in the past, Bush has proven determined to push forward, and against all odds, the immigration compromise lived far longer than many expected it would. Nonetheless, the stakes of the debate have become higher than ever, and despite its latest failure in Congress, the inevitability of immigration reform has grown even stronger.

The issue of immigration is by no means a new one. Last year, a compromise on immigration reform appeared possible in Congress (for more, see Capitol Watch, April 2006). Then, the Republican-controlled Senate and House pursued two very different tracks toward reform. In the Senate, various border security, guest worker, and naturalization provisions were considered and ultimately packaged together to form the basis of an ungainly, bipartisan compromise. In the House, however, a relatively hard-line Republican proposal that cut off any path toward citizenship for illegal immigrants and emphasized increased border security prevailed. Crucially, the president supported the compromise position of the Senate, against the views of many in his own party. But before either proposal could reach the other chamber of Congress for consideration, the tenuous compromise in the Senate broke down. No one, however, could really claim to have been surprised by the failure. In an election year, such a tenuous, controversial compromise had no real chance of success.

Although the Democratic victories in the mid-term elections last year constituted a rebuke of many of the president’s policies, it had the ironic side effect of creating a legislative coalition more amenable to immigration reform. In May, after months of secret negotiations, this coalition announced its new immigration compromise. The plan would have created a new “Z visa” that would have offered most of the 12 million illegal immigrants currently in the United States a path toward legalization and eventual citizenship, provided they pay a series of fines, undergo background checks, and pass other hurdles. The plan also would have created a guest worker program, allowing up to 600,000 people into the country each year to receive two-year work “Y visas.” A new points system would have been established that emphasized skills, education, and English-language proficiency among potential immigrants over extended family ties in the United States. The plan also would have increased the number of Border Patrol agents and provided funds for enhanced border security, along with strengthening penalties for employers who hire illegal immigrants. The negotiating team behind this compromise included Senators John McCain (R-AZ), Lindsey Graham (R-SC), John Kyl (R-AZ), and Ted Kennedy (D-MA), and it was supported by the Bush administration. In emphasizing the urgency of immigration reform, Kennedy noted, “Now, it is time for action. 2007 is the year we must fix our broken system.”

Any compromise is bound to upset as many people as it pleases, but in the case of the immigration reform package, the volume of opposition appeared to overwhelm its sponsors. Many conservative Republicans decried the compromise as providing “amnesty” for illegal immigrants, despite the lengthy, expensive, and convoluted path toward legalization that the compromise offered. This base of opposition consisted of many cultural conservatives who decried the demographic shift and security concerns brought upon by illegal immigration. It was largely the same groups of people that supported the hard-line House immigration proposal in 2006. This time around, however, Democrats controlled both chambers of Congress, so the conservative opposition had less of an institutional base from which to fight. Accordingly, it relied strongly on grassroots strength and constituent pressure, fueled in no small part by vitriolic commentators that railed against “invasion” by illegal immigrants.

Many on the political left felt that the proposal’s guest worker program would create a separate class of workers in the United States that would be estranged from political society and be vulnerable to exploitation by employers. Many also disliked the emphasis placed on employable skills over family ties, arguing that extended family connections frequently form the bedrock of immigrant communities in the United States. Summing up many of these concerns, Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) noted that “the proposed bill could devalue the importance of family reunification, replace the current group of undocumented immigrants with a new undocumented population consisting of guest workers who will overstay their visas, and potentially drive down wages of American workers.”

Senators were responsive to their constituents’ opposition, and when the bill first came up for debate, they offered a plethora of amendments. Amendments that passed would have reduced the size of the “Y visa” guest worker program and ended the program altogether after five years, declared English as the national language of the United States, and created inadmissibility and deportability grounds so that various categories of criminals could not qualify for the legalization program, among other things. Failed amendments included those that would have further reduced the emphasis on family connections for new immigrants, those that would have increased the emphasis on family ties, and those that would have done away with the entire point system after five years.

With any compromise as delicate and prominent as the immigration reform plan, however, amendments are not always offered in good faith. Knowing the support for the compromise rested on such tenuous footing, opponents of the bill pushed this relentless stream of amendments knowing that they likely would scuttle the entire package. Tempers rose accordingly, and accounts of shouting matches between senators quickly seeped into the press. McCain and Senator John Cornyn (R-TX) apparently got into a shouting match about their respective qualifications on the issue of immigration, and Graham and Obama engaged in a sharp debate on the Senate floor in which Graham underscored the political risks he has undertaken by supporting the compromise. A proposed Obama amendment, Graham said, would undercut “everybody over here who's walked the plank and told our base, ‘You're wrong.’”

Opposition to the immigration plan initially succeeded in stalling the bill when a 45-50 procedural vote fell short of the 60 votes needed to prevent a filibuster. The president, however, remained as relentless as ever. Having been out of the country during the key days of debate on the immigration compromise, he made a rare trip to Capitol Hill upon his return to lobby Senate Republicans in favor of the bill, suggesting that “the status quo is unacceptable.” His efforts proved successful, and after a 64-35 vote in the Senate to revive the legislation, the bill was considered anew. To help win this reprieve, Bush endorsed a plan to provide an additional $4.4 billion to bolster border surveillance and workplace enforcement provisions. Most crucially, however, Senate leaders agreed to whittle down the plethora of amendments initially offered to a package of just 26. After their consideration, the Senate would then have been able to hold a definitive up-or-down vote on the complete bill itself

That was the plan, anyway. In the end, the immigration compromise fell victim to the threat of a Senate filibuster, with a 46-53 vote. The tally was remarkably similar to that of the initial vote that scuttled the bill, and its composition was equally bipartisan. In all likelihood, the bill’s persistent failure in the Senate will mean that comprehensive immigration reform will have to wait until after the 2008 elections. But compromises, by their inherent nature, can be as popular as they are unpopular. It is hard to imagine any other issue that would have found both President Bush and a majority of Congressional Democrats on the same side. From a political perspective, the president was more desperate than the Democrats—he very much wanted to secure a positive legacy, while Democrats might be reluctant to grant him the satisfaction of doing so. But from a policy perspective, the two unlikely allies shared their most important priorities on this issue. This alliance of convenience certainly faced an up-hill battle to win passage of its comprehensive immigration reform, but in the long run, immigration is an issue that Congress must inevitably address. In that sense, the prospects for reform live on.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 June 2007

Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:05 AM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

May 25, 2007

Climate change

With each new scientific study and extreme weather event, the consensus that climate change is a real and man-made challenge grows stronger. Although a few politicians continue to be skeptical of the severity of the problem, their numbers are dwindling, and their ability to obstruct policies that would address climate change is diminishing. Few politicians today would echo Senator James Inhofe’s (R-OK) infamous 2003 suggestion that “man-made global warming is the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people.” This inexorable acceptance of the realities of climate change, along with the rapidly intensifying presidential race, suggests that real political action on the issue is becoming increasingly likely. Events in recent months have only confirmed this probability, and they have engaged all branches of government in a scurry for policy primacy.

In Congress, proposals to address climate change in some way have increased markedly in recent years, from seven in the 105th Congress (1997-1998) to over 80 in the 107th Congress (2001-2002) to 106 in the 109th Congress (2005-2006). The current 110th Congress, with its Democratic majority in both chambers, promises to accelerate this trend. Already, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) has created a Select Committee on Energy Independence and Global Warming, a special committee dedicated to climate change. Many have interpreted the creation of this committee as an effort to diminish the influence of Congressman John Dingell (D-MI), chair of the Energy and Commerce Committee and longtime guardian of the interests of automakers in his home state. Either way, the creation of this special committee was a clear statement that the Democratic House leadership preferred bold action to incremental tinkering. “Global warming and energy independence are urgent issues that have profound implications for our nation's economic competitiveness, natural security, environmental quality and public health,” said Pelosi in creating the committee.

Congressional efforts to address climate change have taken a variety of forms, including proposals that would increase fuel-economy standards or encourage the use of hybrid vehicles and bills that would increase funding for research into renewable or alternative energy sources. The most direct and comprehensive efforts, however, are those that would directly limit emissions of greenhouse gases, and Congress is considering several proposals along these lines. One of the more aggressive bills is sponsored by Barbara Boxer (D-CA) and Bernie Sanders (I-VT) in the Senate and by Henry Waxman (D-CA) in the House. It would freeze global warming emissions at 2009 levels in 2010, and then reduce them by approximately 2 percent per year from 2011 to 2020. After 2020, the bill would require emissions cuts of about 5 percent annually, with the goal of reducing global warming pollution to 80 percent of their 1990 levels by 2050.

Another bill, sponsored by Senators John McCain (R-AZ) and Joe Lieberman (I-CT), would set similar goals. It aims to reduce total CO2 emissions to two-thirds of their present levels by 2050, with emissions limits stepped down over time and applied in a less restrictive manner than in the Boxer-Sanders proposal. Another proposal by Senator Jeff Bingaman (D-NM), chair of the Energy and Natural Resources Committee, would be much less aggressive in limiting emissions and would free industries from abiding by those limits in certain circumstances. Each of these proposals would introduce some variant of a cap-and-trade system for greenhouse gases, in which total emissions are capped and permits to generate greenhouse gases would be auctioned off by the government. Firms could trade these credits among themselves, and cleaner companies could make money by selling pollution credits to dirtier ones. A cap-and-trade system is currently in force in the European Union, and lessons from that experience and others suggest that the fundamental principle is sound.

Some of these Congressional proposals are older than others. The McCain-Lieberman bill, for example, was first introduced in 2003, while many of the Democratic proposals are the result of the recent change of leadership in Congress. But in recent weeks, the judiciary has notably forced its way into the climate change debate. In April, the Supreme Court issued its opinion in Massachusetts vs. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). The 5-4 ruling found that the EPA violated the Clean Air Act by declining to regulate greenhouse gas emissions from new vehicles. Some had surmised that the EPA’s inaction rested more on a political inclination of the Bush administration than on an objective examination of climate change science or the EPA’s capacity to regulate CO2 emissions. “The EPA has offered no reasoned explanation for its refusal to decide whether greenhouse gases cause or contribute to climate change,” Justice John Paul Stevens wrote for the majority.

Perhaps spurred by Congressional pressure or by the Supreme Court’s recent decision, the president recently announced that he had ordered four federal agencies to prepare regulations to reduce greenhouse gas emissions from vehicles by the end of his administration. “We're taking action by taking the first steps toward rules that will make our economy stronger, our environment cleaner and our nation more secure,” Bush said. Such moves would not be inconsistent with some of the president’s earlier statements on energy policy and climate change (for more, see Capitol Watch, February 2006). But Democrats were immediately skeptical. They noted that Bush had shifted the policy focus to the Environmental Protection Agency, which has a lengthy rulemaking process, and away from the Transportation Department, which sets fuel economy standards. “In effect, the president asked his agency heads to share ideas and come up with a plan that is due three weeks before he leaves office,” said Congressman Edward J. Markey (D-MA), chairman of the new House select committee on climate change.

The 2008 presidential candidates, too, have joined the climate change debate in earnest. Keenly aware of the magnitude of the problem—and, no doubt, of the voting public’s increasing insistence that their representatives tackle the issue—many candidates have already staked their positions on climate change. Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) has spoken out against the poor fuel efficiency of U.S. cars and has linked up with a potential general election opponent in co-sponsoring the McCain-Lieberman proposal in Congress. Senator Chris Dodd (D-CT) has called for a Corporate Carbon Tax, the principle of which may actually be a more efficient way to limit CO2 emissions than a cap-and-trade system. Republican candidates, if not explicitly acknowledging the causes of climate change, are at least advocating ways to address it using language that their political base finds palatable. "I don't pretend to be a scientist, but I do know that whether humans create climate change or not, we want to preserve our natural resources,” says former Arkansas Governor Mike Hukabee. And given the primacy of the Iowa caucuses, each candidate will have to pay lip service to ethanol—and some will actually mean it. Most importantly, an acceptance of the reality of global warming—if not necessarily of its causes or of the ways to address it—has effectively become a prerequisite for all serious presidential contenders. This is a far cry from the 2000 election, when global warming champion Al Gore felt compelled to downplay his genuine expertise on the matter for the sake of political expediency.

With President Bush facing a hostile Congress, a major foreign policy distraction in Iraq, and less than two years left in office, the prospects for a comprehensive bill that would regulate CO2 emissions are unclear. But as a lame duck, the president is keenly interested in securing a positive legacy for himself. Scientific evidence proving the reality and risks of climate change likely will continue to accumulate, and it will continue to convince an ever-dwindling core of skeptics. The demand for action on global warming, already great, will only grow stronger through the course of the 2008 election season. But already, a majority of Democrats and Republicans alike now agree that the problem is real, and that it must be addressed. That alone is a big accomplishment.

Foreign Policy Association, 24 May 2007

Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:09 PM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

April 26, 2007

Iraq pushback

In the past few months, the Congressional debate over the Iraq war has come into much greater focus. In January, Democrats in the House and Senate—freshly installed as the majority party in each chamber—generated a raft of proposals to rein in President Bush’s conduct of the Iraq war (for more, see Capitol Watch, January 2007)). Now, after weeks of steadily amplifying rhetoric, words will soon be translated into political action. Congress has staked its position, and the president his, but the resulting confrontation is unlikely to dramatically change the situation in Iraq.

In March, the House approved a $109 billion supplemental spending bill to fund the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The vote—largely along partisan lines—was 218-212. Unlike previous supplementals, however, this bill placed conditions on the president’s use of the appropriated funds. It required that U.S. troops meet certain readiness standards before deploying to Iraq, and it set benchmarks for the Iraqi government to meet as conditions for continued U.S. support. If such benchmarks are not met, U.S. troops could begin withdrawing from Iraq as early as July 1. Even if conditions improved in Iraq, U.S. forces would need to begin leaving in March 2008, with most combat forces out of the country by August 31, 2008. Anticipating a close vote, Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) successfully motivated her caucus prior to the roll call: “The American people do not support the war without end and neither should this Congress.”

The very next week, the Senate approved a companion $122 billion supplemental spending bill. It, too, passed the chamber with a largely partisan vote (51-47). The Senate bill required the president to begin withdrawing U.S. forces from Iraq within four months and set a goal of ending combat operations by March 31, 2008. Although this non-binding “goal” for complete withdrawal differed in both force and date from the House bill’s “deadline,” the Senate vote was in some ways a greater jolt to the administration. The Senate has always been considered the more deliberative chamber of Congress, where the perpetual threat of a filibuster makes controversial bills more difficult to pass than in the House. The Senate has also traditionally held greater sway in the realm of foreign policy. Most importantly, as a follow-up to the House’s action, the Senate vote marked the first time that the full Congress had rebuked the president’s Iraq war policy with binding legislation. “The Senate and the House have held together and done what we’ve done,” Senate Majority Leader Harry M. Reid (D-NV) said. “It’s now in [the president’s] corner to do what he wants to do.”

The House and Senate have just reconciled their respective bills, and the resulting compromise—which keeps the House’s readiness standards for U.S. troops but adopts the Senate’s non-binding date for complete withdrawal—will be sent to the president in the coming days. In doing so, Congress will speak in a rare, unified, and assertive manner. The war of words already has ascended to match this new level of earnestness. President Bush has made clear his intent to veto any bill containing timetables or deadlines. “When we've got a troop in harm's way, we expect that troop to be fully funded," he said. “We expect there to be no strings on our commanders.” Among the candidates in the 2008 presidential race (who are increasingly assuming the mantle as their respective parties’ most visible spokespersons), opinions largely fell along partisan lines, with some notable wrinkles. “[Nobody] wants to play chicken with our troops,” Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL) said, causing a minor stir that was quickly seized upon by one of his Democratic rivals. “This is not a game of chicken,” sniped former senator John Edwards. Senator John McCain (R-AZ) didn’t want to miss the chance to score political points, either. “I hope Democrats in Congress will heed the advice of … Senator Obama, and immediately pass a new bill to provide support to our troops,” he politely opined.

Beneath the electoral posturing, the war of words primarily is about responsibility. The argument is governed by two facts: The war in Iraq requires funding that only Congress can provide, but Congress cannot muster the super-majorities needed to override a presidential veto. So if the president vetoes the supplemental spending bill passed by Congress, will he be responsible for cutting off funding to troops in Iraq? Or will Congress be culpable for not passing a “clean” bill, free of restrictions or deadlines on combat operations? The president and his allies argue that the troops in Iraq are in urgent need of additional funding for weapons, body armor, and materiel. Democrats in Congress, on the other hand, dismiss this stance as overly dramatic and misleading, suggesting that troops in Iraq are not in danger of going hungry or unarmed.

To a certain extent, both sides of the argument have been exaggerated and abstracted. According to instructions recently issued to military commanders by Army Comptroller Nelson Ford, the Pentagon is taking “prudent [accounting] measures” to ensure that it has enough money to fund the Iraq war through June. In other words, troops in Iraq will not be cut off. And regardless of the political outcome, manipulating appropriations is inherently a blunt, imprecise, and imperfect way to affect the details of war policy. This is clear in the Constitution, which effectively grants Congress an “on/off switch” for war but reserves the “dimmer switch” for the president.

Nonetheless, the tactical implications of these rhetorical fireworks are very relevant and entirely clear. There is, in fact, a game of chicken afoot, and one side—the legislature or the executive—will have to blink. For institutional reasons, Congress is likely to compromise first, for the simple reason that the legislature must contend with the agendas of 535 ambitious individuals while the executive must only deal with the agenda of one. So when the president receives the final bill from Congress, he almost certainly will fulfill his promise to veto it.

Even then, Congress still will have several ways to constrain the president’s war policy. One likely option would have Congress pass a funding bill without restrictions or deadlines, but with a limited duration. Once the funding expired (after, say, three months), the president would need to request additional money from Congress, which could then pass another funding bill of limited duration, and so on. As each funding deadline passes, the political pressure on the president will ratchet ever higher, conceivably forcing a change in war policy or winning a veto-proof majority in Congress.

For those opposed to the war, however, such a tactic is not without risk. The original House and Senate bills passed by very slim margins, and even those majorities contained legislators whose support was only grudging. Even those who oppose the Iraq war and are inclined to manipulate appropriations to change its course may not be comfortable with the prospect of keeping the president on such a short leash. This much is clear: Whatever its course of action, Congress’ margin for error is much slimmer than the president’s.

In the end, none of this may matter. The House-Senate compromise bill that will be sent to the president in the coming days sets a 2008 withdrawal date from Iraq. Given the president’s likely veto and Congress’ likely response, any movement of this target withdrawal date—either in legislation or in principle—will be toward the future, thus inching into the term of the next president. That may be the first real opportunity to change Iraq policy (for more, see Capitol Watch, August 2006).

But even then, the path of Iraq war policy remains uncertain. The leading Democratic candidates for president—all of whom use anti-war rhetoric and advocate aggressive plans for redeployment from Iraq—leave allowances for residual forces in the country. Senator Hillary Clinton (D-NY) has noted that, “we have remaining vital national security interests in Iraq … I think we [will] have a remaining military as well as political mission.” And for the leading Republican candidates, any kind of pro-withdrawal stance would be politically untenable, regardless of the popular support for such a position.

The passage of binding legislation on the Iraq war by both the Senate and the House is a remarkable achievement, one that would have been unthinkable even a few months ago. But however the rhetorical war plays out, the overall political and institutional climate continues to bode poorly for a significant change in war policy in the near future.

Foreign Policy Association, 26 April 2007

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:44 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

March 23, 2007

Balance of power

When Democrats won control of Congress last year, many speculated about how the Bush administration would respond. Without a supportive Republican-controlled Congress, would the administration become more conciliatory in its expansive interpretation of executive prerogative? Or would it become even more intransigent and embrace the electoral setback as just another obstacle to be overcome in its pursuit of policies deemed vital for national security? Although the 110th Congress has been in session for only three months, a few initial trends can be identified. In the realm of domestic surveillance, for example, the administration has changed course in several respects. Whether such corrections have been the result of a deliberate strategy or of unplanned missteps—or of something else entirely—is less clear.

Among the most prominent examples of the Bush administration’s broad interpretation of executive prerogatives has been the NSA’s warrentless surveillance program. As disclosed in late 2005, the program allowed the government to monitor two-way communications in which at least one party was located in the United States, and to do so without a warrant of any kind. Through 2006, the program was the source of great controversy and Congressional stewing, but the administration remained adamant in defending the national security value of the program (for more, see Capitol Watch, July 2006). But in January, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales revealed that the administration had just secured individual surveillance warrants from the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court and that future surveillance would be conducted subject to the court’s approval. In his letter to the Senate Judiciary Committee, Gonzales noted that, “the orders the government has obtained will allow the necessary speed and agility … under these circumstances, the president has determined not to reauthorize the [warrantless surveillance program].” This was a surprising development from the administration, which had vigorously defended the program in the face of mounting controversy and law suits for more than a year. It was, nonetheless, greeted with cautious optimism by many Democrats "The announcement today is welcome news,” said Senator John D. Rockefeller IV (D-WV). “But it is also confirmation that the administration’s go-it-alone approach, effectively excluding Congress and the courts and operating outside the law, was unnecessary.”

Then, earlier this month, the administration experienced another reversal in its domestic surveillance strategy when a Congressionally mandated audit revealed numerous errors in the FBI’s use of “national security letters.” These letters enable the FBI to acquire information such as financial data and telephone records on suspected foreign agents, without the authority of a grand jury or judge. The use of national security letters has grown significantly since the passage of the USA Patriot Act in 2001. Prior to the Act’s passage, the FBI was required to present “specific and articulable” reasons to believe that the requested information belonged to a suspected spy or foreign agent. Since 2001, however, the FBI has needed only to certify that the requested records are “sought for” or are “relevant to” a terrorism or foreign espionage-related investigation. Of a sampling of 293 cases involving national security letters, the audit found 22 possible breaches of regulation, including cases in which the FBI did not even meet the less stringent requirements mandated by the Patriot Act. FBI Director Robert Mueller took responsibility for the errors and claimed that he was “committed to ensuring that [the FBI] correct[s] these deficiencies and live up to these responsibilities.” But the angry reaction from Congress was notably bipartisan in tone. Senator Arlen Specter (R-PA), the ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee, said that Congress may “impose statutory requirements and perhaps take away some of the authority which we've already given to the FBI, since they appear not to be able to know how to use it.”

In each of these cases, the administration’s expansive interpretation of its domestic surveillance capabilities was dealt a serious blow. In the case of the NSA surveillance program being subsumed into a FISA court-approved process, the setback was self-inflicted. It could easily be interpreted as a deliberate, tactical retreat by the executive branch in the face of a hostile Congress. The FBI’s misuse of national security letters (or rather, the revelation of such misuse) was certainly not deliberate. Most accounts, however, indicate that the errors themselves were unintended cases of incompetence or negligence and not part of a broader strategy of willful deception. Taken together, these cases certainly represent serious setbacks for the Bush administration. But the underlying motivations behind each one—tactical, political retreat and unintended, honest error—would not appear to constitute a fatal blow to the administration’s domestic surveillance strategy, or to any deliberate strategy for dealing with a hostile Congress.

Another recent case, however, presents something of a different challenge for the administration. In late 2006, the Justice Department removed eight U.S. attorneys, supposedly for their lack of political loyalty to the administration. As has been often noted by President Bush and Attorney General Gonzales, U.S. attorneys serve “at the pleasure of the president,” which effectively means that the executive is well within its right to hire and fire U.S. attorneys at any time. In this particular instance, however, it appeared that the administration had plotted to fire these specific U.S. attorneys for some time, and specifically so for their reluctance to pursue investigations that were either favorable to Republicans or unfavorable to Democrats. In conjunction with the earlier setbacks and errors in the Justice Department, the purge of U.S. attorneys only amplified calls for Gonzales’ removal. Senator John Sununu (R-NH) was blunt: “I think the president should replace him.”

Unlike the other cases of Justice Department retreat or error, the purge of U.S. attorneys may appear to have little direct bearing on the executive’s national security or domestic surveillance prerogatives. Indirectly, however, it is very relevant. Until last year, interim U.S. attorneys appointed by the president needed to be confirmed by the Senate after 120 days. Indeed, the prerogative of senators to recommend and oversee political appointments in their home states has been one of that chamber’s most cherished informal privileges. But when Congress reauthorized the USA Patriot Act last year, it approved an obscure provision that removed any legislative or judicial oversight over the appointment of interim U.S. attorneys.

One might assume that such a consequential provision was included in the Patriot Act reauthorization for national security purposes, but it is difficult to know this with any certainty—bills circulating through Congress routinely become so mammoth and complex that legislators find it nearly impossible to digest every clause buried in their text. It is unclear how or why this particular provision was inserted into the reauthorized Patriot Act. What is clear, however, was the Bush administration’s enthusiasm in applying it. In advocating the purge of U.S. attorneys to a White House official, Kyle Sampson—Gonzales’ recently ousted chief-of-staff—offered his unvarnished opinion on the administration’s newly-unhindered appointment power: “[I]f we don't ever exercise it then what's the point of having it?” In applying this power to replace the eight U.S. attorneys, however, the Bush administration very specifically offended a cherished Senate prerogative. Already, Congress has begun to push back. The Senate voted to repeal the offending Patriot Act provision by an overwhelming margin of 94-2, and a House Judiciary subcommittee approved subpoenas requiring several administration officials to testify under oath about the matter.

“Purgegate,” as the scandal has become known, is indicative of something far more damaging to the Bush administration’s broad interpretation of its executive prerogatives. It is a scandal born not of tactical retreat or of honest error, but of cover-up and improper behavior. Taken together, these three setbacks in the realm of domestic surveillance—the collapse of the NSA’s warrantless surveillance program, the FBI’s misuse of national security letters, and the application of an obscure Patriot Act provision for partisan political gain—mark the culmination of years of executive overreach. The resulting retreat, error, and disclosure have scuttled whatever strategy the Bush administration had intended to pursue to deal with the new Democratic-controlled Congress, be it deliberate conciliation, heightened intransigence, or something else entirely.

Although the recent news may appear bad for the executive branch, the greatest burden now rests with Congress. If it is to successfully tug back in its centuries-old power struggle with the executive branch, the legislature will need to prove its relevance with robust and substantive oversight. If it fails, Congress will have missed a golden opportunity to rebalance the constitutional scales of power.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 March 2007

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February 25, 2007

Budget brawl

Earlier this month, President Bush sent his proposed budget for FY 2008 to Congress. At this point, the “proposed” aspect of the $2.9 trillion, 2500 page document should be emphasized. By the time Congress gets done with it, the federal budget will likely bear little resemblance to what the Bush administration has composed. Even so, the president's budget for the fiscal year starting on October 1 is a useful guide to his foreign policy priorities, and it will form the starting point for much of Congress' foreign policy activity in the coming months.

The 2008 budget is the first to include spending requests for combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan; in previous years, funding for these wars took the form of emergency supplemental requests that were separate from the administration's formal budget requests. This was always a source of contention for many senators and congressmen, who felt that these supplemental funding requests disconnected the conflicts from the formal budgetary process, effectively hiding their true cost. According to Rob Portman, the Bush administration's budget director, the change this year is part of the administration's “good-faith effort to be as transparent as possible.” The administration has asked for $145.2 billion to fund the “Global War on Terror” in 2008 and $99.6 billion in 2007, in addition to the $70 billion already allocated for use this year. For 2007, $2.4 billion would be allocated to the Pentagon organization tasked with combating roadside bombs, with an additional $4 billion for 2008.

Other Pentagon funding for 2008 would total $481.4 billion, an increase of 12% over the budgeted amount for 2007. This includes funding for weapons systems that are either under development or have just entered service, such as $4.6 billion for the Air Force's F-22 fighter, $3 billion for the Navy's DDG-1000 destroyer, $2.6 billion for the Marine Corps' V-22 Osprey, and $2.5 billion for the Navy's Virginia-class attack submarine. It also includes $315 million for a new Air Force tanker, $310 million to deploy a missile defense site in Europe, $175 million for a conventional version of the submarine-launched Trident missile. From an organizational perspective, the budget calls for $12 billion toward increasing the size of the Army and Marine Corps by 92,000 troops over the next five years and $7.6 billion toward transforming the Army from a Cold War, division-centric force to a modular force consisting of smaller, more mobile brigades.

Funding for the State Department and other international programs would see an increase of 22% over its 2007 level, to $35 billion. This figure includes nearly $1.4 billion for programs to support Iraq's political, security, and economic goals and a similar amount to stimulate economic and political development in Afghanistan. Other programs that would see significant budget increases include the Millennium Challenge Corporation (with an increase of 164%), the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (with an increase of 124%), embassy security (with an increase of 35%), the Economic Support Fund (with an increase of 27%), and diplomatic and consular programs (with an increase of 11%). Programs that would experience cuts include development assistance (with a cut of 31%), the Andean Counterdrug Initiative (with a cut of 22%), assistance for states of the former Soviet Union (with a cut of 19%), international disaster and famine assistance (with a cut of 15%) and programs involving international narcotics and law enforcement (with a cut of 10%).

The administration's proposal would increase the Energy Department's budget to $24.3 billion, up nearly 7 percent from the current appropriation. Portions of the budget are allocated to fund programs related to energy security, including $385 million for the Coal Research Initiative, $309 million for the Hydrogen Fuel Initiative, $179 million for the Biofuels Initiative, $148 million for the Solar America Initiative, and $81 million to accelerate research on advanced hybrid vehicles. The budget would also increase funding for the Strategic Petroleum Reserve by 60 percent, to $332 million, which will effectively double the capacity of the Reserve from 727 million barrels to 1.5 billion barrels. The budget for the Department's National Nuclear Security Administration would be raised from $9.2 billion to $9.4 billion, of which $88.8 million would go toward the development of a “reliable replacement warhead” for use on submarine-based ballistic missiles.

The Department of Homeland Security would see its budget increased from $32 billion to $34.3 billion. Big winners in the Department would include customs and border protection (with a budget increase of 36%), the Secret Service (with an increase of 10%), and immigration and customs enforcement (with an increase of 8%). The main losers would be citizenship and immigration services (with a budget cut of 84%) and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (with a cut of 35%). In addition, the budget cuts approximately $1.2 billion in grants for anti-terrorism, law enforcement, firefighters and emergency medical teams to states and cities.

As might be expected, the president's budget has met its fair share of criticism from legislators, who each have their own individual interests (and constituents) to keep happy. “What [the president is] saying is, basically you can have it all—you can spend the money, especially on defense and the war, and you can cut every tax, and it all works,'' noted Senator Kent Conrad (D-ND), chairman of the Senate Budget Committee. “But in the real world, it doesn't work out.” In response to cuts in the Homeland Security budget, Representative David E. Price (D-N.C.), chairman of the House Appropriations subcommittee on homeland security, accused the White House of “depriving our communities of the critical support they need to operate in the post-9/11 world.” Not all of the commentary was negative, however. Senator Jeff Bingaman (D-NM), chairman of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, said, “some elements of [the Department of Energy's] new budget request, such as increases for biomass and biofuels R&D, are positive.” Representative John Boehner (R-OH), Minority Leader in the House, not surprisingly lauded the president's budget for its efforts to avoid tax increases and to limit spending: “It is entirely possible for us to balance the budget by holding the line on spending and growing our economy.”

The size and complexity of the president's budget naturally raise suspicions that accounting tricks or hidden programs may lie buried throughout. This is especially true of funding for the Defense Department and the “Global War on Terror,” which together constitute over 21% of the total budget request. Of the funds requested to fight the “Global War on Terror,” some money is specifically designated to replace military equipment that has worn out or been lost in action. According to Steven M. Kosiak, a military budget expert at the Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, the Air Force would receive a portion of that amount ($400 million) for two F-35s, ostensibly to replace planes that were lost in combat. But the F-35 is an advanced fighter that is still under development. It is years away from being deployed to active duty units, and in theory at least, it is impossible that any could have been lost (much less used) in the “Global War on Terror.” Such peculiarities have led some to suggest that the administration is deliberately trying to obfuscate funding for new weapons programs by incorporating their costs into funding requests for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The reality of the Bush administration's budget, and the reality of all budgets submitted by the executive branch, is that it is a political document as much as a policy one. For the first time in six years, the dominant party in Congress is not the same as the one that holds the White House. This reality, plus the very real threat that legislators may attempt to use budgetary tools to affect the president's Iraq policy, should make the forthcoming budgetary process more exciting than most. It also means that the ultimate federal budget for FY 2008 will bear little resemblance to the proposal submitted this month by the president. As the Constitution makes clear, the greatest power entrusted to the legislature is that of raising and appropriating public funds. Given years of frustration over the president's expansive interpretation of his foreign policy prerogatives, Congressional Democrats will be keen to finally exert the power that is so unambiguously theirs to wield.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 February 2007

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February 06, 2007

Obama's challenge

As events of recent weeks have only reiterated, Barack Obama is the early superstar of the 2008 presidential race. The charismatic Illinois senator draws massive and enthusiastic crowds wherever he speaks, and the media seems to hang on his every public utterance. The greatest validation of his superstar status, however, are the increasing attempts to puncture his aura of invincibility. Liberal Democrats claim that Obama has betrayed his potential to become their ideological standard-bearer in Congress. Moderate Democrats claim he’s too liberal. And so far, Republicans only seem able to attack Barack Hussein Obama for his middle name.

The most persistent of these emerging critiques—and the one favored by the politicians, consultants, and pundits that act as guardians of the reigning political establishment—is that Obama is inexperienced and, by extension, lacks policy substance. To be sure, the length of Obama’s tenure in office (four years in the U.S. Senate, by 2008) is comparatively brief; no amount of vitriol by either his supporters or detractors will change that. But the suggestion that Obama is in some way “unsubstantial” lacks any basis in reality. Instead of disparaging the senator, this particular line of criticism reflects the fundamentally stale nature of the reigning political establishment in this country and the challenge that Obama poses to it.

Consider the realm of foreign policy, where much of the criticism about Obama purported lack of substance falls. For one thing, Obama is a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, which means that he has about as much exposure to the intricacies of international relations than any politician outside of the federal executive branch can reasonably expect to have. No senator, representative, or governor can claim an appreciably greater degree of professional familiarity in matters of foreign policy than Obama.

In a more specific sense, Obama has produced a legislative record that clearly reflects his own foreign policy instincts. In the last session of Congress, he teamed with Republican Richard Lugar—long a paragon of sensible, non-ideological thinking in terms of foreign policy—to sponsor legislation to help secure loose stockpiles of conventional weapons around the world. Their bill would build upon the very successful Nunn-Lugar program, which provides funding and expertise to help states of the former Soviet Union secure loose nuclear weapons and material.

Obama has also sponsored a variety of bills relating to energy security. One such proposal would mandate automatic, annual increases in fuel economy standards, while another would encourage domestic automakers to produce more hybrid cars by offering federal assistance to defray the costs of employee health care. These bills, like many others sponsored by Obama, share a few common traits. Each one is eminently sensible, easily capable of passage in a closely split Congress, and largely devoid of aspirations for widespread attention or popular celebrity.

Obama’s detractors may overlook his legislative record out of negligence or ignorance. But the fact that his record is not widely known or acknowledged speaks volumes. Obama had become something of a political superstar even before he entered the Senate. He arrived in Washington with very high expectations, and it would have been relatively easy for him capitalize on such initial popularity by championing a single, prominent issue as his own. But as a member of the minority party in the Senate—and the lowest-ranking member, at that—such outspoken behavior likely would have been futile and certainly would have been interpreted as self-serving. In other words, it would have been precisely the kind of behavior expected of a typical, ladder-climbing politician who comes to Washington carrying lofty expectations and even loftier ambitions.

Obama’s patient, quiet legislative record in the realm of foreign policy, then, suggests a greater taste for sensible pragmatism than for rote partisanship. In Washington, this is a peculiar trait, and it is certainly not one expected of a politician favored for higher office. For those that make their livelihoods perpetuating the reigning political establishment—by fighting the same fights, along the same partisan lines, with the same cast of characters, over and over again—Obama represents something of a paradox, and a challenge. The paradox is that he is a politician of tremendous natural talent, with a large and growing base of support, yet he refuses to fight the partisan battles in the manner that has been expected of him. The challenge is that Obama’s way of doing things may work better.

The critique about Obama’s lack of experience is certainly valid, and now that he is a member of the majority party in the Senate—and an increasingly prominent one, at that—the expectations for him to produce legislation that is both sensible and successful will be greater than ever. But the claim that Obama lacks policy substance is a criticism of the weakest standard. Instead of tarnishing the senator, this line of criticism only reflects Obama’s ability to confound the reigning political establishment. In the process, Obama is challenging the pre-conceived notions about how a successful politician is supposed to behave.

Providence Journal, 6 February 2007

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January 30, 2007

Missing the point

Senator Russ Feingold (D-WI) is a smart guy, and it was totally in character for him to hold these hearings today on the extent of Congress' war powers. It appears he's planning to follow-up on them:

Tomorrow, I will introduce legislation that will prohibit the use of funds to continue the deployment of U.S. forces in Iraq six months after enactment. By prohibiting funds after a specific deadline, Congress can force the President to bring our forces out of Iraq and out of harm’s way.

I've noted elsewhere my thoughts on how successful such efforts ultimately will be. But Feingold's bold pronouncement isn't the most telling passage in his statement:

This legislation will allow the President adequate time to redeploy our troops safely from Iraq, and it will make specific exceptions for a limited number of U.S. troops who must remain in Iraq to conduct targeted counter-terrorism and training missions and protect U.S. personnel. (emphasis mine)

This seemingly secondary declaration highlights a fundamental but overlooked truth of the Iraq adventure -- upon invading Iraq, the United States never had any intention of leaving. As valid and necessary as the debates over withdrawal timetables surely are, they merely fiddle on the margins of the issue. Even Feingold's comparatively bold legislation includes an allowance for a permanent U.S. military presence in Iraq. To be sure, his bill is a big step in the right direction; hopefully it will move the debate closer to grappling with the underlying issues at play here. But as smart and principled as Feingold is, even he cannot easily escape the straight-jacket that Iraq has placed on generations of U.S. foreign policy.

Posted by Daniel Widome at 02:40 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

January 25, 2007

Surge protection

On January 10, President Bush announced plans to send a “surge” of 21,500 additional troops to Iraq. By most accounts, this was a bold move on his part. In November, the Democrats won control of Congress due largely to the growing unpopularity of the Iraq war. In December, the bipartisan Iraq Study Group issued its report, which broadly called for a withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq and expanded diplomatic efforts in the region. It was in such a context that opposition to the president's “surge” emanated from Congress, from Democrats and Republicans alike. But so far, this opposition has only been rhetorical. Many questions remain regarding Congress' ability and intent to force a change in the president's new Iraq plan. But one thing is clear: despite the intensity demonstrated over the past year, congressional opposition to the Iraq war has yet to peak.

Since the opening of the Democratic-controlled Congress on January 4, a plethora of proposals to counter the president's “surge” have been introduced or announced. Senators Joe Biden (D-DE), Chuck Hagel (R-NE), and Carl Levin (D-MI) introduced a non-binding resolution that would express disapproval of the president's plan. Senator Edward Kennedy (D-MA) and Congressman Ed Markey (D-MA) introduced similar bills that will prohibit the president from sending additional troops to Iraq or spending additional money on such a plan without congressional approval. Senators Christopher Dodd (D-CT) and Hilary Clinton (D-NY)—both contenders for the Democratic presidential nomination—have each offered proposals that would cap the total number of U.S. troops in Iraq. Congresswomen Barbara Lee (D-CA), Maxine Waters (D-CA) and Lynn Woolsey (D-CA) introduced legislation that would establish a 6-month timeframe for withdrawal for all U.S. military forces from Iraq.

Senators and congressmen who wish to register their opposition to the Iraq war, then, clearly have a wide menu of legislative options to choose from. And given the current national mood, it is likely that at least one option will pass both houses of Congress. But congressional passage is just a single measure of success, and it is by no means the ultimate one. Consider the resolution sponsored by Biden, Levin, and Hagel. As a concurrent resolution, it will require only simple majorities in each chamber of Congress to pass, and it will not be submitted to the president for his signature. As such, it will not have the force of law—hence its description as “non-binding.” For those wishing to send a loud message of opposition to the president, this could be a good thing. Legislators who disapprove of the course of the Iraq war but are reluctant to restrain the president's freedom of action (Republicans, mostly) could readily support this resolution.

But the resolution's sponsors have attempted to make the case that their proposal is not merely a symbolic one. Biden has indicated that the resolution is akin to a vote of no confidence, and that, “if this were a parliamentary system … it would bring the government down.” This is, in part, political posturing—Biden recently announced his own presidential intentions. But his comments also raise an important constitutional issue. In parliamentary systems of government, both executive and legislative functions are performed by the legislative body, or parliament. If the opposition party passes a no confidence measure, the executive falls and new elections are held. In the presidential system of the United States, however, executive and legislative functions are explicitly separate; short of impeachment in the Senate and prosecution in the House, Congress cannot remove the president from office. For some time, Congress attempted to exercise a “legislative veto,” whereby majorities in both houses of Congress could override or reject actions by the executive. But in INS v. Chadha (1983), the Supreme Court ruled that legislative vetoes violated the constitutional principle of separation of powers. Accordingly, Bush would be fully within his constitutional rights to ignore Biden's concurrent resolution.

Those proposals that would actually constrain the president's actions pose challenges of their own. Putting aside the constitutional questions as to whether Congress can actually cap troop levels in Iraq, cut off funding for additional troops, or mandate the withdrawal of those forces already there, the president is unlikely to sign any such bill emanating from the legislature. Any proposal along these lines, then, would most likely be attached as an amendment to a separate measure, one that is consequential and would otherwise garner wide support, such as an appropriations bill. Assuming the amended bill passes both houses of Congress, the president will be forced to make a difficult decision. But given his past determination on Iraq, it seems likely that the president would veto any bill—no matter how important its non-Iraq elements—that constrained his freedom of action in pursuing the war. And although the mood of Congress has turned clearly against the Iraq war, it is doubtful that a veto-proof, two-thirds majority in either chamber would vote for a binding measure against the president.

A third alternative exists that blends the potential risks and rewards of the various binding and non-binding legislative options. In passing the original Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Iraq (AUMF) in October 2002, Congress declared that the measure fulfilled the requirements outlined in the War Powers Resolution (for more, see Capitol Watch, August 2006). The AUMF cited Iraq's purported weapons of mass destruction and links to the 9/11 attacks as justification for military action. Clearly, the U.S. military purpose in Iraq is very different today. To reflect this changed mission, Senator John Warner (R-VA) suggested a different course of action by Congress last summer: “I think we have to examine very carefully what Congress authorized the president to do in the context of the situation if we are faced with an all-out civil war. And whether [we] have to come back to Congress to get further indication of support.”

Warner has not publicly reiterated this sentiment, opting instead to co-sponsor a non-binding resolution similar in content but less strident in tone to the one proposed by Biden et al. But the War Powers Resolution nonetheless remains a valuable tool in Congress's arsenal. Although every president since Nixon has denied its constitutionality, each one has abided by its requirements, and it has not yet been challenged in the judiciary. Instead of bothering with non-binding and symbolic measures, or with indirect and improbable methods for changing war policy, Congress could address the issue head-on by using its ability under the War Powers Resolution to re-evaluate and re-authorize the Iraq war. Such a direct and unambiguous action would surely be opposed by the Bush administration, on both substantive and constitutional grounds, but it would be far more difficult to ignore out-of-hand than some of the other proposals that have been floated. Already, there are early indications that Senator Robert Byrd (D-WV) may pursue such a course, as well as Biden himself: “I've drafted … I'm not going to introduce it right now … an authorization for the use of force that renders the last one null and void.”

Regardless of the success of Bush's “surge” policy and of congressional efforts to thwart it, the national mood on the Iraq war clearly has changed. By last summer, the war already had become widely unpopular; antiwar candidates such as Ned Lamont were able to defeat pro-war incumbents like Joe Lieberman (I-CT) in their party primaries. But in the few brief months since, the popularity of the Iraq war has sunk even lower. What were once hypothetical, long shot ideas to impede the president's prosecution of the war have become realistic and widely supported proposals. On Iraq, the question now is not whether Congress will assert itself. It's how far it is willing to go.

Foreign Policy Association, 25 January 2007

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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

November 24, 2006

Fresh start

In the midterm elections on November 7, Democrats secured majorities in both the House of Representatives and the Senate. These majorities in the legislature, however, will be balanced for the next two years (at least) by continued Republican control of the executive branch. In such a divided government, the relevant question is not just what Democrats hope to accomplish with their legislative majorities. Rather, their tactics as part of a divided government are also open to debate. Will Democrats attempt to achieve consensus with their Republican colleagues in Congress and secure easy approval for their legislation from President Bush? Or will they prove more confrontational and attempt to force divisive proposals onto the President’s desk? The answers to these questions are far from certain, but one thing is clear: The issues that have dominated the foreign policy agenda over the past year remain unresolved, and the political shake-up in Washington opens the way for potential progress on each one.

For some of these unresolved issues, a divided government is more likely to produce results than one dominated by a single party. Foremost among such issues is immigration (for more information, see April’s Capitol Watch). In the spring, the Senate and the House debated widely divergent proposals for immigration reform. The Senate produced a complex compromise that combined tougher border security measures with the prospect of citizenship for many undocumented aliens already in the country. The compromise brought together Democrats and a handful of moderate Republicans, and it appeared to be roughly in line with President Bush’s own instincts on immigration, which long been interpreted by many in his party as too lenient. The compromise foundered, however, in the House, where conservative Republicans blocked passage of the Senate compromise and introduced their own bills with much stronger border security provisions and fewer opportunities for illegal immigrants to become naturalized.

The midterms, however, have cleared many of these hurdles. Not only are the Democratic majorities in each chamber of Congress more amenable to the type of immigration reform outlined by the president, but some of the most outspoken Republican hardliners on immigration fell victim on November 7. Most notably, J.D. Hayworth (R-AZ)—a consistent and vocal opponent of immigration reform that incorporated guest worker or amnesty provisions—was defeated by his Democratic challenger, Harry Mitchell. Republican opponents to Bush’s immigration reform, then, have lost not just their votes in Congress but also many of their rhetorical superstars. In terms of ideology, immigration reform is an issue that is ripe for agreement between the Democratic Congress and the Republican president. The real question lies in the politics of the matter. Will Democrats be willing to grant the president a victory on an issue he has championed for years? And will the president be willing to bury the remaining Republicans in Congress who oppose his ideas on immigration reform? Only time will tell.

Another issue ripe for political progress is energy policy (for more information, see February’s Capitol Watch). Democrats have long campaigned on reducing the country’s dependence on foreign oil and increasing investment in alternative energy sources. But in his state of the union address in January, President Bush surprised many by using this same language of “energy independence.” He announced plans for a 22 percent increase in clean-energy research, as well as for greater research on battery technology, hydrogen, and various types of ethanol for automobile use. Bush stated his ultimate goal was to replace more than 75 percent of U.S. oil imports from the Middle East by 2025.

At the time, Democrats certainly approved of the president’s goals; their only grounds for doubt lied in the sincerity of Bush’s words. Now that Democrats control the legislature, the onus is on Bush. If his derision of the United States’ “addiction to foreign oil” is sincere, Bush likely will find the Democratic Congress amenable to boosted investment in renewable energy sources and toward cleaner sources of automobile fuel. And so far, this seems to be the case. Al Hubbard, a top White House economic adviser, has indicated that the president will soon launch a bold “energy independence” initiative, with an emphasis on biofuel research and production. “I actually think from talking to Democrats [that] they have the same concerns we do … [concerning] our addiction to foreign oil,” Hubbard said. Problems will arise if the specific details of a White House proposal conflict with the desires of the Democratic Congress. More broadly, Democrats again will have to balance to prospect of legislative success (in the form of mutually acceptable energy legislation) with that of political failure (in the form of permitting the president to appear productive and bipartisan).

Politics being what it is, however, it is just as likely that divided government will result in gridlock on a number of important issues. The president has indicated that he wants the lame duck session of Congress to address the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program (for more information, see July’s Capitol Watch). Prior to the midterm elections, several conflicting bills addressing this issue were being circulated in both houses of Congress, one of which—the Terrorist Surveillance Act of 2006—is supported by the president. But it is exceedingly difficult for lame duck sessions of Congress to address controversial issues, especially when the intervening election alters the political landscape so dramatically. Indeed, one of the sponsors of the Terrorist Surveillance Act—Sen. Mike DeWine (R-OH)—was defeated on November 7. As a senior Democratic aide for the House Judiciary Committee put it, “there’s no chance of [a bill authorizing the NSA program] happening.”

Of course, the most pressing foreign policy issue—and the one that undoubtedly drove the Republicans’ collective defeat on November 7—is the war in Iraq. Sen. Carl Levin (D-MI), who will become chair of the Armed Services Committee in January, has already called for beginning U.S. troop reductions from Iraq within the next six months. But as a constitutional matter, Congress’ options for directly affecting Iraq policy are limited (for more information, see August’s Capitol Watch). It appears as if both Republicans and Democrats are pinning their hopes for a new Iraq policy on the bipartisan Iraq Study Group (ISG), chaired by former Secretary of State James Baker and former Democratic congressman Lee Hamilton. The ISG’s report, due in the coming weeks, is widely expected to endorse some form of phased withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq, perhaps with a short-term boost in troop levels followed by longer-term decline. Democrats and Republicans alike realize that the Iraq war is going poorly, but with a presidential election only two short years away, they are loath to lend too much support to ideas emanating from their political opponents. The bipartisan and (nominally) apolitical ISG may solve this gridlock by providing the requisite political cover for a new policy.

The beginnings of a new, post-election Iraq policy have not waited for the ISG’s report, however. On November 8—less than 24 hours after the election—Bush announced the resignation of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, offering the clearest evidence that the midterms had already affected at least the execution of his foreign policy. Rumsfeld’s resignation is a reminder that Congress’ influence in foreign policy extends far beyond its legislation and oversight. As a vehicle for representing national will, the legislature affects foreign policy through its mere composition alone. Americans had become disillusioned with the country’s current foreign policy, and the midterm elections crystallized this sentiment far better than any opinion poll ever could. Whether such sentiment can actually be translated into successful legislation—or even new policy itself—is a question that can only be answered after the 110th Congress convenes in January.

Posted by Daniel Widome at 10:27 PM to 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 29, 2006

There to stay

As the midterm elections rapidly approach, the calls for a U.S. withdrawal from Iraq have grown louder and more consistent. In some cases, they have even come in a bipartisan flavor. Such sentiment is only natural. The bloodshed in Iraq is increasing at a gruesome rate, and the U.S. mission there has haphazardly meandered into something seemingly intended to save the country from its own internal divisions.

Some suggest that the very presence of U.S. troops in Iraq is responsible for the violence and instability there. Others counter by suggesting that U.S. forces are the only thing standing in the way of genocide. Both arguments have merit, but they both miss the point. The debate over the length of the U.S. occupation of Iraq was settled before the initial attack was even launched in 2003. Its resolution lies squarely with the very rationales for the invasion itself.

From September 2001 to March 2003, the Bush administration offered a slew of reasons to invade Iraq -- WMDs, regime change, links to al Qaeda and more. But the logic behind each rationale seemed tenuous and forced, and the constantly shifting emphasis diluted the strength of each one. Most damning, however, was the post-invasion evidence that the administration may have exaggerated its arguments to get the war it wanted. If the ostensible reasons to invade were exaggerated, then, a key question remains: Why did the Bush administration really want to invade Iraq?

This is best answered by imagining a traditional Russian nesting doll, in which each visible invasion rationale can be peeled away to reveal another, less presentable one. The most exterior argument, and the one that could bear not only public scrutiny but also that of the United Nations, was Iraqi possession of illicit WMDs. Insufficiently proven to justify invasion on its own (in part because Iraq did not possess any WMDs at the time), this exterior layer of rationalization must be peeled away to reveal more nested pro-invasion arguments.

One such argument was based on regime change. This rationale could be used publicly, but not at the United Nations, for Saddam Hussein -- like every other dictator in the world -- violated no U.N. Security Council resolution just by being an odious leader. In a similar vein, if the administration originally intended to promote democracy in Iraq, its initial post-invasion plans would have included more than a simple reliance on Ahmed Chalabi. Even at its best moments, the Bush administration could prove nothing more than weak and circumstantial links between Iraq and al Qaeda. It had absolutely no convincing argument linking Hussein to 9/11.

Peeling away these various layers of rationalization ultimately reveals the nub of the pro-invasion argument: pure geopolitics. This argument, unlike the others, could not be made publicly to justify a war of choice. It was based on a long-held belief by many in the Bush administration that the United States must remain in a position of global supremacy, and that force should be used to deter or defeat any potential challenges to such supremacy. That this belief coincided neatly with the country's post-9/11 paranoia and with neoconservative dreams of democratizing the world was, to put it mildly, exquisitely convenient.

Invading Iraq put U.S. power in a vitally important part of the world, positioned neatly over abundant energy reserves and between Iran, Syria and Saudi Arabia. Iraq was a perfect place to plant the U.S. flag; everything else was ancillary to this central cause. Practically speaking, this geopolitical argument translates into permanent basing rights. Although U.S. troop levels may well fluctuate in the coming months and years, the Pentagon has constructed at least four so-called "enduring bases" in Iraq. These facilities -- fortified and cordoned off from their Iraqi neighbors and served by such staples of U.S. culture as Burger King and Subway -- are designed to house U.S. forces for an extended period of time. Perhaps this is why Iraqis have never received a definitive indication that U.S. forces will ever completely leave their country.

The debate over withdrawal timetables is thus almost ludicrous. Fundamentally, the United States invaded Iraq to stay in Iraq; upon arrival, the Bush administration never had any intention of leaving. U.S. forces will remain, based at Hussein's former military bases, ready to deter challenges to U.S. supremacy and to project power in a chronically unstable corner of the globe.

This brings us to today, where the debate over invasion rationales can illuminate the one over occupation dilemmas. The United States must refute its root cause for invasion and disavow any intention of permanent or "enduring" bases in Iraq. Various administration officials have muttered words loosely to this effect before, but never to an Iraqi audience and never while addressing the apparent contradiction of the "enduring" military facilities that have been established. To be effective, a genuine disavowal must be backed by genuine intent. Such a disavowal would not solve Iraq's problems overnight -- the current violence and instability are far too deeply rooted for that. But it would be an important first step. It would place any timetable for eventual withdrawal firmly in Iraqis' collective hands, truly contingent upon their own political and security development. Withdrawal would become something desired by the United States, not something deferred.

More importantly, such a disavowal could raise the level of trust between the United States and the international community. Just as Americans questioned the administration's invasion rationales, so too did the world, and so too do Iraqis today. Coming to grips with the real reasons behind the invasion could pay long-term dividends. That little bit of honesty would help not only Iraq, but also the United States' own sagging international reputation.

Alas, no disavowal will ever come. The Bush administration will never renounce permanent bases in Iraq, for doing so would undermine its root rationale for invasion. One could expect no better from the other party, either. Thus far, congressional Democrats have been reluctant to question the Pentagon's construction of the "enduring" bases in Iraq, for doing so might leave them vulnerable to the charge that they do not support safe, comfortable facilities for the U.S. troops there. More important, the geopolitical appeal of ready-made bases in Iraq is hard to resist. It is simply a bipartisan truism that Iraq is a perfect location from which to project U.S. power.

This is where the debate over the U.S. presence in Iraq ultimately returns, back to the decision to invade and to the fundamental nature of political and military power. It just so happens that when you're the one wielding the power, it doesn't seem so bad after all.

San Francisco Chronicle, 29 September 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 08:45 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)

September 28, 2006

Congressional rush

As the November mid-term elections rapidly approach, Congress finds itself rushing against the clock. Out of concern for the campaigning requirements of its members, it has set October 6 as its target adjournment date for the year. This means that the legislature has given itself only a scant few weeks between its August recess and its October adjournment to take care of several pieces of outstanding business. At a September 15 press conference, President Bush identified two such issues he felt that Congress must address before it recessed: military commissions for the detainees at Guantanamo Bay and new rules for the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program. It is surely possible that the time constraints Congress has placed on itself will motivate legislators to reach resolution either or both of these contentious issues. But it is more likely that such pressure will prove counterproductive, resulting in neither useful public policy nor a positive image of the United States abroad.

The first issue identified by Bush—military commissions at Guantanamo Bay—has long been a contentious one. But it has taken on a new urgency since the Bush administration’s previous plan to try the detainees was invalidated by the Supreme Court in its June decision in Hamdan v. Rumsfeld (2006) (for background, see June’s Capitol Watch). President Bush jump-started the current debate by acknowledging the existence of secret CIA-run detention facilities in which prominent terrorist suspects were detained and interrogated. He also announced that fourteen such suspects—including suspected 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and co-collaborator Ramzi Binalshibh—had been transferred from their secret prisons to Guantanamo Bay, where they would be tried under the new procedures that Bush hoped to push through Congress.

Because many had thought that such prominent terrorist suspects would remain beyond the reach of any judicial process, such a transfer was a remarkable move. The administration’s proposal for new military commissions at Guantanamo would have allowed prosecutors to use classified information at the detainees’ tribunals, but would have forbidden the detainees access to—or even knowledge of—such evidence. Bush’s proposal also would have redefined U.S. obligations under Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions, which forbids “outrages upon personal dignity” in the treatment of detainees. He sought clarification of these obligations so that CIA agents would be able to continue their interrogations of suspected terrorists: “This program has been one of the most vital tools in our efforts to protect this country … [w]e need this legislation to save it.” Some have even suggested that Bush also sought such legislation to retroactively legitimize the earlier torture of detainees. Mary Ellen O'Connell, a professor of international law at Notre Dame and critic of the Bush administration's detention policies, notes that "they want retroactive immunity … have you known of any other time in our history when we have tried to immunize public officials against crimes after they have committed the crimes?"

But the administration quickly discovered that the secret transfer of prominent terrorist suspects did not buy them much goodwill in Congress. Sens. John Warner (R-VA), John McCain (R-AZ), and Lindsey Graham (R-SC) formed a core of opposition that blocked the president’s program in the Senate. Their position was supported by several military officials and by Colin Powell, Bush’s own former secretary of state. Each of the maverick senators had their own reason for opposing Bush’s proposal. Warner has close and longstanding connections with uniformed military leaders, many of whom privately opposed Bush’s proposal; Graham has a great deal of experience in the military legal system and is a judge in the Air Force Reserve; McCain spent six years a prisoner of war in Vietnam, during which time he experienced torture first-hand. Regarding Bush’s proposal, McCain noted that, “weakening the Geneva protections is not only unnecessary, but would set an example to other countries, with less respect for basic human rights, that they could issue their own legislative ‘reinterpretations.’”

The second issue identified by Bush—the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program—has also been contentious for some time (for background, see July’s Capitol Watch). But like the military commissions at Guantanamo, this issue has recently taken on greater urgency. In August, a federal district judge in Michigan ruled that the wiretapping program violated the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) as well as the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution. “It was never the intent of the framers to give the president such unfettered control, particularly where his actions blatantly disregard the parameters clearly enumerated in the Bill of Rights,” wrote Judge Anna Diggs Taylor in her decision.

Prior to Judge Taylor’s decision, Sen. Arlen Spector (R-PA) had announced that he had struck a deal with the administration regarding the program. One provision of Spector’s bill would have allowed the president to submit the wiretapping program—in its entirety—to the FISA court to rule on its constitutionality, giving the administration free reign to continue the program without needing to seek individual warrants for each wiretap. Elsewhere in the Senate, a group of Republicans who last year had helped delay renewal of the Patriot Act—Sens. Larry Craig (R-ID), John Sununu (R-NH), Lisa Murkowski (R-AK)—advocated their own set of measures for any potential compromise on the NSA program. First, they wanted to remove the aforementioned provision from Specter’s bill. Second, they wanted to remove language that referred to the president's inherent “constitutional authority” to pursue national security programs. And third, they wanted to ensure that warrantless surveillance could not be conducted on a U.S. citizen. Their proposal would also have required a court-issued warrant for wiretapping beyond 45 days, unless the attorney general certified to Congress that such a warrant could not be obtained but that the surveillance was necessary for national security.

In the House, Rep. Heather Wilson (R-NM) originally proposed a bill that would have given legal status to the wiretapping program only after a terrorist attack on the United States. She later revised her proposal to allow warrantless wiretapping if an attack was believed to be imminent and if Congress was notified of such a threat. The notification would have to be submitted within five days of the president's authorization of the surveillance, name the entity or entities responsible for the threat, state the reason for believing the attack is imminent, and describe the foreign intelligence expected to be obtained through the surveillance and the means of the surveillance. “Excesses are best prevented when intelligence activities are operated within a framework that controls government power by using checks and balances among the three branches of government,” Wilson noted.

Eager to adjourn and return to the campaign trail, Senators and Congressmen will continue to work feverishly on these and other contentious issues. In their haste, the fine print of any potential compromise may receive scant attention. On the issue of military commissions at Guantanamo, it appears as if the Bush administration may be willing to compromise on its demand to keep prosecution evidence from defendants in the commissions themselves. In return, Congress may retroactively exempt CIA interrogators from potential prosecution for violating U.S. and international law forbidding torture. There remains some uncertainty, however, on the precise definition of “unlawful combatant,” which has been the term used to describe the Guantanamo detainees. The Senate version of a potential compromise defines them as those persons “engaged in hostilities against the United States;” a House version defines “unlawful combatants” as those persons “engaged in hostilities or who [have] purposefully and materially supported hostilities against the United States." On the issue of the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program, Specter’s bill and Wilson’s revised bill would seem to meet the president’s demands. It also appears that the administration may be willing to compromise on the demands put forward by Craig, Sununu, and Murkowski. But it remains unclear as to whether Congressional Democrats would allow either bill to reach the president’s desk for his signature.

To be sure, a fair and reasoned compromise on either issue would be a desirable outcome. But the time constraints that Congress has placed upon itself are purely artificial; in their haste, legislators may well pass inferior bills. The reason for the constraint itself may also serve to hamper the legislative process. Senators and congressmen are eager to return to the campaign trail and to demonstrate to their constituents that they deserve to be sent back to Washington DC. Such pressure to produce electorate-friendly legislation could easily result in poorly reasoned public policy.

It is on a broader, more international level that such legislative haste may prove the most damaging. Around the world, the U.S. Congress is seen as debating the merits of torture and of liberal jurisprudence. The tragedy, however, is that such a perception is precisely accurate. It has been widely noted that the United States is a country bound not by ethnicity, religion, or race, but rather by ideals. When the supposed temple of such ideals—the U.S. Congress—debates the issues it has been, in such a rushed and hasty manner, it raises serious questions about the moral legitimacy of the United States on the global stage. That, ultimately, may be the most lasting result of the current Congressional rush.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 September 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:06 AM to U. S. Politics

August 25, 2006

Limited powers

Although the culmination of this election year will not arrive until November, political battles are already being won and lost. In Connecticut, challenger Ned Lamont defeated incumbent Joseph Lieberman in the Democratic primary for U.S. Senate. Many suspect that Lieberman's steadfast support for President Bush's Iraq policy was responsible for his defeat, and it is certainly true that the persistent violence and instability in that country has fed domestic discontent with the war for some time. But Lamont's primary victory suggests that such discontent has moved beyond the editorial pages; it may have reached a critical mass where it could actually affect electoral politics. If that discontent really does reshape Congress in November, however, the legislature may not be able to do much to affect U.S. policy in Iraq.

The Constitution explicitly gives Congress the power to declare wars and to raise and support the armed forces. It also makes the president the "commander in chief" of those same armed forces. This tension between the executive and the legislative branches over the country's war making powers is long and storied. Through much of U.S. history, a very rough rule applied: major military conflicts between the United States and another state were marked by a war declaration from Congress, while smaller military engagements could be managed by the executive without a formal war declaration. There have been only five declared wars in U.S. history. The number of overseas U.S. military engagements, however, far exceeds that number.

In the past 60 years, formal war declarations by Congress have fallen out of favor as the speed of international politics and military strategy have advanced. The Vietnam War represented for many a prime example of how the war powers had shifted too far in favor of the executive. In response, Congress adopted the War Powers Resolution in 1973. Passed over President Nixon's veto, the Resolution mandated that the president consult with Congress prior to the start of any military action and formally notify Congress that such action has commenced within 48 hours of it having done so. If Congress does not declare war or otherwise authorize the use of force within 60 days, the President would be obligated to remove U.S. forces from the hostilities.

On the surface, the Resolution seems to give great leeway to the executive to engage in military actions. But by formally codifying what previously had been an informal custom, the Resolution actually serves to constrain the executive. Accordingly, each president since Nixon has challenged the Resolution's constitutionality, although the courts have never ruled definitively on the matter. Yet despite this habitual opposition from the executive, each president has abided by the Resolution's requirements in every major military engagement since the 1970s.

The 2003 invasion of Iraq was no exception. In October 2002, Congress passed the Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Iraq Resolution (AUMF), which granted President Bush the authority to use military force to "defend the national security of the United States against the continuing threat posed by Iraq." It cited a laundry list of offenses as part of this "continuing threat," including Iraq's efforts to thwart UN weapons inspectors, its repression of its citizens, and its supposed links to terrorists associated with the 9/11 attacks. The AUMF also specifically declared that its passage fulfilled the authorization requirements of the War Powers Resolution.  Such authorization from Congress was more valuable to the administration than any similar statement from the United Nations, and so with its passage, its most significant hurdle to military action against Iraq had been cleared.

As subsequent events have proven, however, the assumptions made in the October 2002 AUMF were flawed. Iraq was not in possession of any weapons of mass destruction, and its links to al Qaeda under Saddam Hussein were circumstantial at best. Accordingly, U.S. forces in Iraq have found their mission evolve as their occupation continues. First their mission was to depose Saddam Hussein; then it was to prepare for a return to power by Iraqi exile groups; then it was to rebuild the country and establish democratic institutions; then it was to suppress various indigenous and foreign-led insurgencies. In recent months, many have suggested that U.S. forces in Iraq are now attempting to ward off a Sunni-Shia civil war. A close reading of the original AUMF will find scant mention of any such mission.

This, at least, is the sense of some members of Congress. A recent hearing by the Senate Armed Services Committee elicited some revealing responses from members of the military leadership. General Peter Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, noted that the recent violence in Iraq could possibly "[devolve] to a civil war." When asked by Senator John McCain (R-AZ) whether he anticipated this situation one year ago, Pace paused for several seconds before somberly replying "no, sir." In response to this gloomy assessment by Pace and concurring testimony from General John Abizaid and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, Senator John Warner (R-VA) suggested a new course of action by Congress: "I think we have to examine very carefully what Congress authorized the president to do in the context of the situation if we are faced with an all-out civil war. And whether [we] have to come back to Congress to get further indication of support."

Although this is a remarkable suggestion, there are any number of reasons why a new authorization measure will not be debated in Congress. It would give the president's political opponents an ideal stage upon which to attack his Iraq policy; one can be certain that he accordingly will use his influence to prevent any resolution from being introduced. Any public debate on the mission of U.S. military forces could easily be construed as "not supporting the troops" and have damaging political effects on whomever that accusation were leveled. And politics aside, the executive--including the military leadership at the Pentagon--is the "commander in chief" of the armed forces. If Congress passed a resolution calling for the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq, the president would be on firm political ground to interpret that request loosely, based on the demands of military expedience as well as on the "facts on the ground."

Even if popular discontent with the president's Iraq policy results in a major electoral shift in November, Congress' ability to force a change in that policy may be limited. It could apply its "power of the purse" and threaten to withhold funding to support operations in Iraq. But senators and congressmen have tried this tactic before, to little effect. And so far, both Congress and the president have abided by the requirements of the War Powers Resolution.

The most likely effect of an electoral shift on Iraq policy would be one of perception. If Democrats secure a majority in one or both houses of Congress, they will gain leadership of congressional committees and the subpoena power that comes with it. They could hold hearings and conduct investigations that would draw even greater attention to the pitfalls of current Iraq policy. That, in turn, could further focus public opinion, which ultimately is the most important determinant for any kind of policy adjustment. The legislature can focus and reflect public opinion, but only the executive can truly change military policy. And for that, the country may have to wait two more years.

Foreign Policy Association, 24 August 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:26 AM to Middle East, U. S. Politics

July 28, 2006

Unwarranted powers

There can be no question that President Bush has expanded the national security prerogatives of the executive branch. Events in recent years have made a persuasive case that the executive alone possesses the necessary tools for expedient and confidential action in defense of the country. But as his term has progressed, the president has experienced increasing opposition to his expansive view of executive prerogatives. Among the most controversial of his administration's actions has been the National Security Agency's (NSA) warrentless surveillance program. In recent weeks, this once-secret program has faced its most serious challenge to date, opening the door for the other branches of government to have their say.

In December 2005, the New York Times broke the story that the NSA had been conducting surveillance on the communications of persons within the United States, including U.S. citizens. Although wiretapping itself is neither new nor necessarily illegal, the NSA program was conducted without judicial warrants of any kind. Supporters of aggressive surveillance techniques have long argued, with some merit, that the process of securing a proper surveillance warrant was too time-consuming and too public for certain situations. In response to these concerns, as well as to the Watergate-era excesses of the FBI and CIA, Congress passed the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) in 1978. Among other things, FISA established a special court to review warrant requests for electronic surveillance in the context of foreign intelligence gathering. FISA also allowed these special courts to issue warrants retroactively, up to three days after the initial wiretap. As suggested by its title, FISA's intended goal was to give authorities a legal, expedient, and confidential means for conducting surveillance on spies and other foreign agents. Since 9/11, FISA has been expanded to incorporate surveillance against terrorists.

The Bush administration, however, chose to operate outside of the FISA process. As the New York Times story and subsequent reports outlined, the administration authorized the NSA to conduct surveillance without warrants of any kind. At the very least, the administration confirmed that it had monitored international phone calls in which one party was in the United States. Many legal scholars suggested that such activity constituted a violation of the FISA statute. But the Bush administration defended its actions in two other ways. First, it claimed that the Authorization to Use Military Force (AUMF) passed immediately following the 9/11 attacks gave the executive the authority to violate FISA in the course of the “war on terror.” And second, the administration claimed that the executive possessed the inherent authority to violate FISA in the course of fulfilling its constitutionally prescribed responsibilities as commander-in-chief of the armed forces.

That the administration more or less acknowledged that it had secretly violated a federal statute, and that it proceeded to defend its actions so vigorously, suggests that it saw great value in the NSA program. From a law enforcement perspective, the advantages of such a program are clear. Although the process of seeking a surveillance warrant via the FISA court was designed to be quicker and more confidential than doing the same through normal courts, it still represented a bureaucratic process, with its own set of potential delays and complications. As 9/11 and subsequent terrorist attacks have demonstrated, delays stemming from cumbersome law enforcement processes can be fatal. For an administration that saw itself at war with an ambitious and secretive enemy, the appeal of immediate, warrantless wiretapping is readily apparent.

Equally apparent, at least for critics of the administration's program, was the danger of such warrantless wiretapping. The program effectively cut the judiciary out of the law enforcement process. On constitutional grounds, this was at best questionable. How could the various branches of government effectively check each other when one branch reserves the authority for a certain program—and, indeed, the sole knowledge of that program—to itself? Such behavior places an extraordinary and unnecessary level of responsibility on a single branch of government, a responsibility that could be mismanaged or abused without anyone knowing it. Constitutional principles aside, the near-unanimous consensus among legal experts that the NSA program violated the FISA statute represented a clear strike against the administration.

In recent weeks, Congress has become more vocal in addressing the NSA program. Sen. Arlen Specter (R-PA), an early critic of the administration's warrantless wiretapping, announced the outlines of a compromise solution. The senator pledged to introduce a bill that would amend FISA to extend the time allowed for warrantless wiretaps from three days to seven, allow for “roving wiretaps” tied to specific individuals and not just to specific phone lines or email addresses, and allow the NSA to monitor international calls routed through the United States without a FISA warrant. The president agreed to sign such a bill, and in return, he pledged to voluntarily submit the NSA program to the FISA court to rule on its constitutionality. Specter claimed the compromise represented “a recognition by the president that he does not have a blank check.”

Critics were quick to identify flaws in Specter's compromise. His proposed bill would bestow legality to administration activities that have been widely criticized as presently illegal. The compromise also stipulates that the administration voluntarily submit the NSA program—in its entirety—for review by the FISA court. This poses several complications. First, the president has only pledged to do this voluntarily and without any congressional mandate. Second, he would submit the program for retroactive approval in its entirety, without any consideration of individual cases of warrantless wiretapping. And third, the FISA court was specifically created to rule on surveillance warrant requests by the federal government. It has never ruled on the constitutionality of entire government programs, and unlike courts in the traditional federal judiciary, it was never designed to do so. Some have pointed out that such a compromise would short-circuit the numerous challenges to the program already working their way through the traditional court system. Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-VT), the Judiciary Committee's ranking member, noted that the compromise represented an exceedingly good deal for the president: “[President Bush] is saying ‘if you do every single thing I tell you to do,' I will do what I should have done anyway.”

Specter's compromise is not the only attempt by Congress to address the NSA program. In June, Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA) co-sponsored an amendment to an appropriations bill that would have withheld money from the program. The amendment failed, but it drew 23 Republican supporters. Rep. Heather Wilson (R-NM) has proposed legislation that would allow the government to monitor the communications of suspected terrorist targets without a court order “for a period not to exceed 45 days following a terrorist attack” and require congressional certification for any extensions. Wilson described Specter's compromise as “a little odd to me.”

The debate over warrantless wiretapping may appear to be one confined to the realm of domestic policy. But the Bush administration has always defined its “war on terror” as an all-encompassing struggle, consisting of military, financial, and legal components. Challenges to the NSA program, then, also constitute challenges to the executive's expansive definition of its own war powers. A combination of factors—the administration's current unpopularity, weariness with global strife, the absence of a major terrorist attack in the United States since 9/11—has increased popular and institutional resentment toward such unfettered exercise of war powers. As the Specter's proposed compromise over the NSA program proves, the Bush administration knows that its days of unrestricted war powers are over. And as the ensuring debate will only prove further, such days will be long in returning.

Foreign Policy Association, 27 July 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:06 AM to U. S. Politics

June 26, 2006

Prisons and policy

The vast network of overseas U.S. military bases has long been a source of international discontent. Most bases generate this ill will by taking up valuable local real estate, through the misbehavior of U.S. servicemen based abroad, or by use of the facilities for unpopular combat operations. But arguably the most contentious U.S. base fits none of these criteria and is notorious for a completely different reason. And despite widespread outcry and the efforts of several Senators and Congressmen, the legislative branch can do little to rectify the situation.

Guantanamo Bay Naval Base has always been an anomalous base. A relic of the United States' first imperial forays in the early twentieth century, Guantanamo has existed in a unique legal limbo since Fidel Castro seized power over 40 years ago. The treaty governing the U.S. lease can only be broken with the consent of both parties, which the United States has yet to provide. In protest, Cuba has refused to accept the annual rental dues paid by the U.S. government.

Guantanamo's hazy legal status--it is U.S. controlled, but it is not technically U.S. territory, nor is it the territory of a sensitive U.S. ally--has contributed to the base's negative image. Since early 2002, Guantanamo has been used as a detention facility for "enemy combatants" captured in the so-called war on terror. The term "enemy combatants" deliberately situates the detainees somewhere between POW status (with which they would be entitled protection under the Geneva Convention) and criminal status (with which they would have to be formally charged and tried for a crime).

The legal limbo in which Guantanamo detainees are held, as well as the reportedly poor conditions at the facility, have understandably elicited outrage from the Muslim world. But many western governments and human rights groups have also attacked Guantanamo. German Chancellor Angela Merkel and UN Secretary General Kofi Annan have called for its closure, as did a recent report by the UN Committee Against Torture. Amnesty International has referred to Guantanamo as the "gulag of our times."  The pressure to close the facility began shortly after its creation in 2002 and has only increased since.

In recent weeks, however, several events have given this chorus of condemnation new focus. In May, the U.S. military reported the most serious prisoner revolt yet at the base, when several inmates staged a suicide attempt to draw guards into a room, at which point other prisoners attacked the guards with makeshift weapons. More recently, guards discovered three inmates who had succeeded in killing themselves. Although there had been many unsuccessful suicide attempts by Guantanamo detainees since 2002, these were the first to succeed. Rear Admiral Harry Harris, commander of Joint Task Force-Guantanamo, described the suicides not as  "[acts] of desperation, but [as acts] of asymmetric warfare committed against us,"  and Colleen Graffy, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Public Diplomacy, described them as a "good PR move to draw attention."

The widespread opposition to Guantanamo, both domestically and internationally, has not escaped Congress' attention. Late last year, Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) succeeded in adding an amendment to a defense appropriations bill that read, in part: "No individual in the custody or under the physical control of the United States Government, regardless of nationality or physical location, shall be subject to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment."  McCain's amendment, while not specifically limited to the treatment of detainees at Guantanamo, was certainly motivated by the international criticism of the facility and the reports of mistreatment there, in addition to his own experiences as a POW in Vietnam. The Bush administration threatened to veto any bill containing McCain's amendment, with particular resistance coming from Vice President Dick Cheney. Ultimately, faced with mounting public pressure, the president consented to McCain's amendment.

Along with his signature, however, Bush also issued a "signing statement." This statement was neither generated by Congress nor reviewed by that body prior to presidential signature. It presented the administration's interpretation of the new law, noting that, "the executive branch shall construe [the law] in a manner consistent with the constitutional authority of the President ... as Commander in Chief."  Some legal scholars interpreted this as evidence that the administration would only abide by the restrictions laid out in McCain's amendment at its own discretion.

Despite the legislature's difficulty in affecting change at Guantanamo, the judicial branch has had some success in influencing events there. In Hamdi v. Rumsfeld (2004), the Supreme Court found that U.S. citizens designated as enemy combatants by the executive branch had the right to challenge their detainment. In Rasul v. Bush (2004), the Court determined that the U.S. court system had the authority to decide whether foreign nationals held at Guantanamo were rightfully imprisoned. And in Hamdan v. Rumsfeld (2006), for which a decision is forthcoming, the Court will rule on the legality of the military commissions established by the Hamdi case and on the refusal to classify Guantanamo detainees as prisoners of war.

The string of legal challenges surrounding the Guantanamo detainees has succeeded in shedding some light on the conditions there and in providing the detainees with a modicum of legal recourse. But progress has been slow and inconsistent. The Pentagon, as part of the executive branch, clearly favors continued and unfettered operation of the Guantanamo facility. Journalists have been strictly limited in their coverage of Guantanamo, and several reporters who had been sent to cover the recent suicides were expelled from the base shortly after their arrival. This behavior is perfectly consistent on the Pentagon's part, as recent decades have witnessed an ever-greater centralization of war powers in the executive branch of government. Since 9/11, this trend has only accelerated.

In addressing the issue of the Guantanamo detention facility, then, two of the three branches of government are fundamentally handicapped. As is the case with most aspects of military policy, the executive branch is preeminent--change must come from the top. But to the surprise of many, such policy change is looking increasingly possible. "I'd like to close Guantanamo," President Bush said recently, while also indicating his interest in the Supreme Court's forthcoming ruling in Hamdan.   Bush reiterated that statement this week in Austria, addressing the issue before what was expected to be a barrage of criticism during meetings with European leaders.

Although the Pentagon has not let UN human rights experts inspect the Guantanamo facilities, it has granted access to the International Committee of the Red Cross. And even congressional critics of the detention facilities, such as Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-TX), have noted improvement in the conditions there. During a recent visit, she noted that, "the Guantanamo we saw today is not the Guantanamo we heard about a few years ago ... what we've seen here is evidence that we've made progress."

Despite assertions from administration critics to the contrary, however, the Guantanamo detention facility cannot simply be closed overnight. The administration would be unlikely to release every detainee, because several probably represent genuine security threats. It is unlikely that each detainee's host country would agree to assume custody of them either, for even the hint of collusion with Guantanamo would be poisonous for many governments around the world. And if the administration were to look for alternative locations to house the detainees, it would find that all arrows point right back to Guantanamo. By virtue of its unique history, the base is tailor-made for legally ambiguous operations--that's why the detainees were sent there in the first place. For these reasons and others, the administration clearly is in no hurry to close the detention facilities.

Nevertheless, policy change on the question of Guantanamo is no longer inconceivable. Opposition to the detention facilities there--from foreign leaders, Congress, the courts, U.S. citizens, and current and former Guantanamo detainees themselves--has been the necessary prerequisite for the shift of tone coming from the executive branch. That fact alone shows that time and public pressure can sometimes be more effective in changing policy than any judicial ruling or Congressional amendment.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 June 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:26 AM to Americas, Middle East, U. S. Politics

May 18, 2006

Rising prices

In recent weeks, the nation has been wracked with rising gasoline prices and the ensuing consternation. For Congress and the president, the politics of high gasoline prices are relatively straightforward: high prices are bad, lower prices are better. But sometimes, political expediency outpaces realistic capability. Although it may be popular to advocate lower gasoline prices, it may be much harder for Congress to achieve that objective. Beyond the question of ability, however, lies a more serious question. Congressional action to lower gasoline prices may be hypocritical and, even worse, counterproductive.

There is no denying that gasoline prices have been on the rise nationwide. The average price for regular unleaded gasoline has climbed above $2.90/gallon, with prices much higher in several states. This is almost one dollar higher than the average price a year ago, and it is approaching the record high of $3.06/gallon set in the wake of Hurricane Katrina last September.  Consternation over high gasoline prices is a semi-regular occurrence in the United States, and politicians and pundits alike have offered a slew of explanations for the rise in prices. Instability in Iraq, uncertainty in the U.S. relationship with Iran, increasing demand from India and China paired with static levels of supply, insufficient refining capacity, and price gouging by oil companies have all been suggested as reasons for the rising prices. In previous periods of high gasoline prices, the oil cartel OPEC has also been blamed. Regardless of the explanation, one thing is certain: the high price of gasoline is a foreign policy issue that directly affects Americans every day.

Accordingly, Congress has clamored to respond to the issue. Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-TN) initially advocated a $100 rebate to taxpayers to offset the climbing gasoline prices. But this proposal quickly proved unpopular with consumers and legislators alike, even including Frist's fellow Republicans. Sen. John Cornyn (R-TX) referred to Frist's proposal as "a nonserious response to a serious problem."  The rising gasoline prices seemed all the more unfair in the wake of the record profits reported by many major oil companies--the outgoing chairman of ExxonMobil, for example, recently received a $400 million retirement package.  In response, Sen. Arlen Spector (R-PA) suggested a "windfall profits tax" on large oil companies that would be designed to discourage price gouging. "I believe that we have allowed too many companies to get together to reduce competition," Specter said. "They get together, reduce the supply of oil, and that drives up prices."

President Bush also offered his own plan to alleviate high gasoline prices. According to the administration, the plan would ensure that consumers are treated fairly, promote greater fuel efficiency, and invest in gasoline alternatives. Bush also called for revoking existing tax breaks to oil companies and for allowing the EPA to waive environmental restrictions that create fuel supply shortages. He suggested boosting the U.S. gasoline supply by deferring this summer's deposits into the Strategic Petroleum Reserve (SPR), a federally managed petroleum reserve designed to alleviate disruptions in oil supply: "By deferring deposits until the fall, we'll leave a little more oil on the market ... every little bit helps."

Each of the proposals suggested by Congress and the president operate under the assumption that the government is capable of affecting the price of gasoline. In one way--by adjusting the federal tax on gasoline--it can. But such tax only represents a portion of the overall cost of a gallon of gasoline, and the gasoline tax in the United States is already far lower than that in other developed countries. Many industry experts suggest that the factors affecting the price of gasoline are beyond governmental control. Questions of global petroleum supply and demand and political tensions with unpredictable, oil-rich regimes cannot be answered overnight by either the legislative or the executive branches of government. One industry expert suggested that delaying petroleum deposits to the SPR, as proposed by Bush, was akin to "not even rearranging a single deck chair on the Titanic."

Of course, the likelihood of policy-making impotence does not stop politicians from gathering behind a popular cause. But this allure of political popularity risks the ignorance of good policy. High gasoline prices could represent a natural market pressure on unsustainable social and economic habits in the United States. They could encourage carmakers and consumers alike to place a higher value on automobile fuel efficiency; discourage suburban sprawl and encourage the growth of more tightly woven communities; encourage investment in mass transit; generate less particulate pollution and slow the processes of global warming; encourage healthier lifestyle habits; and decrease U.S. dependence on unreliable or dangerous sources of petroleum.

If these themes sound familiar, they should--they have been discussed previously in this space. More importantly, President Bush himself spoke of energy independence in his most recent state of the union address, and legislators from both parties have advocated similar themes for many years. But very little of the recent posturing over gasoline prices seems to reflect any of these sentiments. For example, Sen. Charles Schumer (D-NY) has previously called for improvements in federally mandated fuel economy standards for automobiles.  But in the wake of the recent spike in gasoline prices, he has railed against big oil companies and has noted that "American consumers will need all the help they can get at the pump as we head into the summer driving season."

Many would suggest, however, that cheap gasoline and better fuel efficiency standards are contradictory policy goals. A few legislators who have been vocal advocates for energy independence, such as Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL), have stopped short of offering rash proposals to lower the price of gasoline: "The only thing as predictable as rising gas prices are the short-term political solutions that come along with them."  But most have not, and none of them have attempted to reconcile the apparent contradiction between their calls for lower gasoline prices with their same calls for energy independence.

The big complication with this issue is that high gasoline prices are a very regressive means of modifying national behavior. In the medium- or long-term, higher prices may encourage more sustainable behavior. But in the short-term, they have a disproportionately greater effect on those of middle and lower incomes than on those who are richer. Many in the working class rely on cars for their livelihood. Even if they wanted to utilize mass transit or move into more densely populated neighborhoods closer to their workplaces, they could not do so, because these options simply are not available in many parts of the country. The more well-off, however, spend proportionately less of their income on transportation, so high gasoline prices for them are generally more of a bearable inconvenience than a serious threat to their livelihood.

Herein lies the true public policy challenge. If the president and Congress are serious about encouraging energy independence and sustainable development in this country, how can they affect a positive change in U.S. society without disproportionately hurting those who are least able to make such a transition? Or, conversely, are politicians more concerned with the "here and now" issue of high gasoline prices than they are with the more challenging, longer-term issues of energy independence? These questions are immensely challenging. They involve many different interests, many potential solutions, and few obvious answers, and they demand a long-term perspective. In other words, they are the foreign policy questions best suited for a deliberative body such as Congress. So far in the debate over high gasoline prices, however, short-term posturing seems to have proven more popular than an honest debate of the longer-term issues.

Foreign Policy Association, 18 May 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:52 PM to U. S. Politics

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.

Foreign Policy, 15 May 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 07:43 PM to Americas, Asia, Europe, Middle East, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics

May 02, 2006

On the revolt of the ex-generals

The latest wave of criticism to target Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has come from a cadre of distinguished, retired generals. It differs significantly, however, from previous attacks on the secretary of defense. More than simply calling for Rumsfeld's resignation, it raises a fundamental question about U.S. military policy: Has the concept of civilian control of the military gone awry?

The recent criticism is most distinguishable by its sources. Calls for Rumsfeld's resignation have come from at least six generals, including Marine Lt. General Greg Newbold (ret.), director of operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff from 2000 to 2002; Maj. General John Batiste (ret.), who led the Army's 1st Infantry Division in Iraq in 2004 and 2005; and Marine Gen. Anthony Zinni (ret.), former chief of the U.S. Central Command.

The substance and source of this criticism has created a unique alliance of sorts. For Democrats, liberals and everyone else instinctively opposed to the Iraq war, the notion of military officers criticizing the Bush administration is a priceless commodity. The political left in the United States has long been tagged -- rightly or wrongly -- with an intense aversion to all things military. For them to criticize President Bush is nothing remarkable; it is entirely expected.

But when military officers with distinguished service histories and combat records join their chorus, people take notice.

Beyond the specifics of Rumsfeld's management of the Iraq war, however, this alliance of liberals and generals risks confusion and misinterpretation. The principle of civilian control of the military is enshrined in Article II, Section 2 of the Constitution, and the president exercises this authority directly and through subordinates such as the secretary of defense. By so eagerly claiming the generals' criticisms as their own, however, the political left could appear to be challenging this constitutional principle. That alone would contradict the political left's own intellectual and antiwar roots. In terms of who should control the U.S. Armed Forces, then, does military expertise trump civilian accountability?

The answer may not be as simple as it appears. On the basis of fact alone, the criticisms leveled by the retired generals appear sound. The situation in Iraq remains violent and unsettled -- conditions that can be traced to decisions made before the war and shortly after the invasion. Rumsfeld's pre-Sept. 11 goals to reform the military into a leaner, more technologically advanced fighting force may have been sound in theory and even in certain cases of practice, such as the initial invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. But his ideological and political rigidity has cost time, treasure, and lives in post-invasion Iraq.

The attraction of the so-called ''generals' revolt'' for the political left is thus readily apparent. But this attraction must be treated with caution, for it risks adopting a shortsighted view of history. During the Korean War, Gen. Douglas MacArthur brazenly challenged President Truman's authority when he publicly advocated the use of nuclear weapons on China. In 1951, Truman fired the immensely popular general, and he suffered politically in doing so. But history has judged Truman's decision to be the correct one. By risking his short-term popularity, Truman reasserted a fundamental constitutional principle at the very outset of the Cold War and the nuclear age.

The current situation requires not just a reassessment of the short-term strategy in Iraq. It also demands a far-sighted vision for how civilian leadership of the military will function in the future. The questions raised may be academic in nature, but they are immensely important. Much as Truman did in the 1950s, the United States today finds itself in the early years of what may well be a long, dangerous and endemic military conflict. Fundamentally, the principle of accountability must reign supreme. Military officers -- as tempered with experience and caution as they may be -- are not directly accountable to citizens at large. Civilians -- as arrogant, wrong-headed and eager to fight as they may be -- necessarily are.

San Francisco Chronicle, 2 May 2006

Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:40 AM to 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

April 04, 2006

Dubious dialogue

On March 18, the foreign ministers of Australia, Japan, and the United States met in Sydney for a "Trilateral Strategic Dialogue." As usual, the United States was the primary driver of the agenda, and, invariably, the focus was on China. But instead of promoting regional unity, the "strategic dialogue" was an example of how the United States is driving the region apart. In the process, it is doing China a great favor.

To understand why, it helps to look at the relationships between each of the trilateral partners and China. Japan came into the meeting with the most strained relationship. Japan and China have long been the most important powers in East Asia, and tensions between them have only grown in recent years. On Monday, the Japanese foreign minister (and trilateral participant), Taro Aso, sharply lamented the growth in China's military spending: "It's not clear what China is using the money for [and it] creates a sense of threat for surrounding countries."

Australia, on the other hand, came into the dialogue with a decidedly different view of China. Australian Prime Minister John Howard has attempted to find a balance between aligning with Asia, on the one hand, and with the United States, on the other. He supported the U.S. invasions of both Afghanistan and Iraq, but he also recently signed the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Treaty of Amity and Co-operation -- a move he had long resisted but ultimately approved for the sake of better relations with Australia's Asian neighbors. Perhaps more important, Australia's export market is becoming increasingly reliant on China's voracious economy.

The United States, for its part, viewed the dialogue as a way to augment its array of bilateral alliances in the region. But China could easily have viewed the dialogue as just the latest U.S. attempt to contain it. In Congress, vilifying China -- large, menacing, and conveniently Red -- has become a bipartisan pastime. Last year, politicians united in exploiting public fear to scuttle the purchase of U.S.-based Unocal by CNOOC, a state-owned Chinese oil firm. And in advance of the trilateral meeting, U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice warned that China could become a "negative force" in the region. In the trilateral partnership, the U.S. position is clearly more in line with Japan's than Australia's.

This alignment of interests was clear to all, and Australia sought to disavow any notion that the trilateral dialogue was designed to counter China. Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer noted that "a policy of containment of China would be a very big mistake." But regardless of its true purpose, the dialogue was shrouded in speculation and opacity. The media consequently portrayed it as a nascent anti-China alliance -- so for all intents and purposes, that is what it was. The only mention of China in the joint statement emanating from the dialogue was an anodyne reference to its "constructive engagement in the region": a sure sign that the trilateral members had difficulty finding common ground.

China, for its part, has not been standing still while the United States attempts to bolster its regional alliances. In December, the inaugural East Asian Summit was held, in Kuala Lumpur. An outgrowth of ASEAN, the summit was inevitably dominated by China, through its sheer size; should this summit evolve into an organization, China's influence within it will only grow. The price for Australian participation in the summit, however, was its signature on the ASEAN Treaty of Amity and Co-operation. For Howard, this was not an insignificant price to pay, for the treaty severely limits Australia's ability to assist in the Bush administration's "war on terror." Despite his conservative credentials, it is difficult to imagine Howard paying a similar price for the Trilateral Strategic Dialogue.

Indeed, Australia is keen to exploit and expand its relationship with China. On Monday, during a visit to Australia by Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao, Downer signed an agreement to sell uranium to China. An official in the Australian foreign ministry noted that the United States was "hardly in a position" to criticize the agreement, given the Bush administration's recent deal to sell nuclear fuel to India. Wen, for his part, diplomatically made note of Australia's precarious positioning between the United States and China: "We believe that countries which are allied with the United States can also be China's friends, and Australia is one of them."

None of this should suggest that the Trilateral Strategic Dialogue is a wasted effort. Surely the United States, Japan and Australia have many common interests, and it is in each country's best interest to pursue continued cooperation with one another. Likewise, the sheer opacity of many aspects of China's growth is reason enough for caution.

But the United States must avoid sending mixed signals -- to allies, foes and everyone in between. Under the Bush administration, the U.S. position toward China is closer to Japan's than to Australia's. Because the United States and Japan are longstanding allies, this is understandable. But Australia is also an ally, and not the first -- or the only -- one to find itself needlessly torn between the United States and China.

There once was a time when a country, faced with such a choice, would clearly pick the United States. That time may be over.

Providence Journal, 5 April 2005

Posted by Daniel Widome at 10:51 PM to Asia, Australia/NZ, U. S. Politics

March 23, 2006

Port passions

Politicians love nothing more than to be on the popular side of a contentious debate. In recent weeks, they had the quintessential chance to do just that. The revelation that an Arab company, Dubai Ports World (DP World), would soon be in a position to operate ports along the east coast of the United States whipped Congress into a frenzy. The matter appeared to resolve itself when DP World eventually pledged to transfer operation of the ports in question to a “U.S. entity.” But its aftermath reflects something deeper and more troubling about the growing Congressional influence in foreign policy and national security.

The specifics of the matter were rather straightforward. DP World, a company owned by the government of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), won a bidding war for the British shipping company Peninsular & Oriental Steam Navigation (P&O) in mid-February. The $6.8 billion deal was approved by the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS), the twelve-member, interagency body that evaluates the security implications of such transactions, and it was scheduled to go into effect on March 2. Before this happened, however, some in Congress and the media realized that the deal would allow DP World to inherit the container terminals at six U.S. ports operated by P&O. Very quickly, public attention was focused and political passions were ignited.

Opponents of the deal argued that container ports were pieces of “critical infrastructure” and were vital to the U.S. economy. But they also represented a potential national vulnerability. Terrorists, some said, could smuggle any number of dangerous substances—from illegal drugs to weapons of mass destruction—through U.S. ports. And DP World was not just a foreign company. It was owned by the UAE, an Arab state that had been home to two 9/11 hijackers, had been linked to terrorist financing, and had served as a transshipment point in A.Q. Khan's shadow trade in nuclear materials. Senator Robert Menendez (D-NJ) declared that if the deal was consummated, “U.S. ports will be in the hands of a foreign government. That is an unacceptable risk that we cannot tolerate.”

By all indications, President Bush seemed to have been caught off-guard by the uproar. As president, he was not directly re