In a climate of prospective “ground zero mosques,” clamor about President's Obama's religion, and escalating pre-election rhetoric, this month's anniversary of the 9/11 attacks evoked particularly passionate responses. In Florida, a rural pastor pledged to hold a “Burn a Koran Day” on September 11 to mark his belief that “Islam is of the Devil.” Pastor Terry Jones' congregation was small, and his beliefs were not reflective of mainstream Christianity. Under no circumstance should Jones' words or actions have had any influence beyond his own, small following. But they did. As September 11 approached, he attracted increasing media attention, which he seemed eager to use to propagate his own extreme views. Nearly all observers opposed Jones' planned Quran-burning. From Afghanistan, General David Petraeus said that his planned actions were already inciting violent opposition and presented a threat to U.S. troops. Secretary of Defense Robert Gates called Jones to express his opposition personally. Ultimately, Jones canceled his event, claiming that he had already been successful in conveying his anti-Muslim views.

Jones used the media, however, for more than just that.. Deliberately or not, his planned Quran-burning inspired other radicals to turn their ideology into action. In Texas, Christian activists inspired by Jones held their own Quran-burning event. But as a Quran was about to be burned, a skateboarder named Jacob Isom grabbed the book and prevented its destruction, informing the would-be book burner, “Dude, you have no Quran!” Isom became a modest internet celebrity, and he represented an example of ordinary individuals not propagating hateful speech, but rather squelching it.

Some individuals seek to do more than simply spread an idea, or instead have a much different vision for how to do so. In recent years, several al Qaeda-inspired attacks on the United States have been carried out by individuals with more exuberance than training, acting on their own. Last year, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab attempted to detonate explosives in his underwear on a flight to the United States, and earlier this year, Faisal Shahzad attempted to detonate a car bomb in Times Square in New York. Neither attempt was successful, and although both individuals had plenty of enthusiasm, they lacked the skills and training (and perhaps luck) that would have been necessary for them to succeed.

Whether an individual hopes to carry out (or prevent) a hateful action, or whether they literally seek to harm other people, several things are clear. Ordinary individuals, acting on their own, find it very difficult to influence foreign policy in a direct way. Terry Jones and Jacob Isom are minor figures, with very limited followings, no coherent agenda, and limited means to realize on a larger scale whatever their agendas might be. Their words and actions can inspire or motivate others, or win the attention of powerful figures, but they need a vehicle to carry their agenda to a wider audience. Technology can assist in these efforts, of course, but the mainstream media was still necessary to give Jones' small-bore ideas the national and international attention they ultimately received. Naturally, Abdulmutallab's and Shahzad's attacks received media attention, and security-screening protocols were adjusted as a result. But the trajectory of U.S. foreign policy did not change. Had their attacks been successful and killed hundreds of people, it is not unreasonable to assume that U.S. policy could have shifted dramatically—it certainly did after 9/11.

These recent examples of individual efforts to affect foreign policy stand in contrast to other recent efforts that featured individuals who were better organized, funded, and trained. Compare Jones' efforts to those of the key players in the Park51 debate in New York, which arguably spurred the rash of would-be Quran burnings. The chief proponent of the Park51 center is Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, who has a long reputation as a conciliatory leader in New York and has the support of influential figures in the Muslim community, in the media, and from the State Department itself. Opposition to Park51 has been spurred (if not directly led) by political figures such as Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich. Not only do these individuals command the loyalty of significant political constituencies, but they have years of experience in crafting public messages and leveraging media attention. Although the Park51 dispute is far from resolved, the key players on each side of the debate stand a much greater chance of affecting the course of U.S. foreign policy than either Terry Jones or Jacob Isom..

In a similar vein, although Abdulmutallab and Shahzad received modest inspiration and training from others, they carried out their attacks on their own, and in isolation. Their failure as individuals stands in stark contrast to the dramatic success (from their perspective) of the 9/11 hijackers. On the most direct level, that plot involved 19 people working in tandem. Behind them were dozens of people around the globe who provided financial, technical, or logistical support, and who had been planning meticulously for years. Perhaps most famous of these behind-the-scenes supporters was Osama bin Laden. By all accounts, he did not conceive of the 9/11 attacks himself. But he possessed certain characteristics that were unique, and in some cases completely unteachable. He was the charismatic leader of a burgeoning movement, and he was able to earn notoriety from his opponents and lure like-minded people to his cause. But bin Laden also possessed exceptional financial resources and personal connections. These qualities not only allowed him to build al Qaeda into what it was pre-9/11, but it allowed him to inspire, support, and orchestrate the violent actions of those who shared his worldview.

None of this is to suggest that ordinary individuals have no role in shaping foreign policy—far from it. In fact, in a democracy, individuals have a responsibility to consider the relevant issues and to express their opinions on them. At the extreme, individuals certainly can cause great damage; Nidal Malik Hasan killed 13 people at Ft. Hood last year. Jones himself acquired a sort of temporary fame, and the media gave him a platform to spread his views. Abdulmutallab and Shahzad failed in their attacks, but their arrests drew media and political attention, and they served to remind Americans of a still-existing threat. Arguably, this visibility is what these individuals sought all along.

But visibility only goes so far, and eliciting a short-term response is not a sustainable strategy for policy change. Any untrained individual can cause a ruckus and attract the spotlight. To actually change policy, however, a ruckus alone is insufficient. Clear plans, abundant finances, devoted followers, media and political connections, well-run organizations, and simple luck are the ingredients necessary to turn individual action into any kind of effort to achieve real policy change. This is especially true in the realm of foreign policy, which historically has been more isolated from the whims of public opinion. It is still true that globalization and technology are empowering forces; the fact that money and ideas can spread cheaply and rapidly means that more people can become engaged in policy debates—for good or ill—than ever before. But these forces do not, and cannot, replace the much older prerogatives for effective grassroots policy influence: organization, money, and media. With these necessary tools, individuals have a much better chance to elicit the policy changes they hope to achieve. Whether such changes serve the common good, however, is another question entirely.

Foreign Policy Association, 23 September 2010

In recent weeks, passions have become inflamed over plans to build an Islamic community center and mosque a few blocks from the World Trade Center site in New York. Park51 is the brainchild of Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, a religious leader with a long tradition as a moderate, conciliatory figure. A passionate group of supporters for the project has emerged, arguing that it will embody the constitutional right to freedom of religion and help preserve New York's culture of tolerance and diversity. But opposition to Park51 has been even more vocal. In many media depictions and reports, the center has been labeled “the Ground Zero mosque,” and it has been seen as insensitive or even offensive to the memory of the 9/11 attacks.

The recent uproar over Park51 is, in some respects, very peculiar. The project has received support from a local community board committee and from New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg. Abdul Rauf has been praised by Jewish leaders and the FBI, and he has even written a book entitled, “What's Right with Islam is What's Right with America.” But many of the project's opponents have amplified their views, and they have come to dominate the national conversation. Some, like Newt Gingrich, equate the project with a Nazi sign being posted near the Holocaust Museum or a Japanese “site” next to Pearl Harbor, and suggest that a synagogue should be built in Saudi Arabia before a “mosque” is built in Lower Manhattan. Others take a more moderate view that Park51 should simply be moved further away from the Ground Zero site or outside of Lower Manhattan.

The arguments against Park51 clearly have taken hold. A recent poll by the Economist found that 58 percent of Americans thought that an Islamic cultural center should not be built near the World Trade Center site, and 33 percent did not even think that Muslims had a constitutional right to build such a facility. Opposition to Park51 has spread beyond New York and has grown into wider, more public anti-Muslim sentiment. In Connecticut, Tennessee, and California, existing and planned mosques have become targets for vitriolic protests.

Park51's opponents imply—deliberately or otherwise—that Islam writ large is waging a war against the United States and the West. Ironically, this is the same notion that extremists such as Osama bin Laden seek to perpetuate. Their ideology rests upon the notion that the West, and the United States in particular, is fundamentally hostile to Islam, and that Islam must strike back violently. Without this extremist interpretation of a cultural and religious war, the logic of al Qaeda's violent agenda dissipates. But the intense, public opposition to Park51 and to mosques around the country only gives credence to al Qaeda's point of view. Even the more mild opponents of Park51—those who simply think that the center should be built elsewhere—may unwittingly be giving comfort to adherents of religious warfare. Declaring entire neighborhoods off-limits to places of worship could isolate, ostracize, or even radicalize religious minorities.

To be sure, the debate over Park51 is not one-sided. The fact that a debate is taking place, and that prominent figures like Bloomberg and even President Obama have expressed support for Park51, sets the United States apart from many other countries in which such open expression would be discouraged or even repressed. But in functional terms, such nuance may not matter. To succeed over the long-term, the U.S. effort to combat Islamic extremism must rely primarily on the power of ideas. Extremist ideologies must be exposed as corrupt and hopeless, and the notion of an existential struggle between Islam and the West must be undermined. In a certain sense, it almost doesn't matter if Park51 is built or not. The passion and anger that have fueled the Park51 debate will give ammunition to extremist propagandists for years to come. And that will make U.S. efforts to counter such propaganda more difficult, more costly, and more time-consuming.

Meanwhile, the issue of Iran's nuclear program has entered the public forum in a different and more direct kind way. In the September 2010 edition of The Atlantic, Jeffrey Goldberg writes about Israel's growing concern with Iran's nuclear ambitions. Gaining extensive access to Israeli political and military leaders, Goldberg concludes that there is a better than 50 percent chance that Israel will attack Iranian nuclear facilities by July 2011. Within days of the publication of Goldberg's article, The New Yorker featured an article by Jon Lee Anderson, for which he interviewed Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. As he is prone to do, Ahmadinejad spoke at great length about the hypocrisy of U.S. policy toward Iran and about Iran's right to nuclear technology. But the context of the interview, as reported by Anderson, sent a very different message: significantly, Ahmandinejad agreed to be interviewed by Anderson—a Western journalist—in Tehran.

Goldberg's and Anderson's articles each offer valuable glimpses into the minds of national policymakers. In a sense, the governments of Israel and Iran have entered the realm of public debate in a very deliberate kind of way. Both journalists are fully aware that their sources may have used them to advance a precisely constructed—and not necessarily honest—public message. But even if that was the case, the messages that Israel and Iran hoped to put forward still help to illuminate the motivations of each side. This is diplomacy-as-poker. Each player, or country, is endowed with a certain set of resources and a particular range of options for how to employ those resources. But the path from potential policy to actual policy is marked by bluffs and truths, with each move designed to manipulate, recruit, or deceive the other players.

In Goldberg's case, his sources may have advanced the idea that Israel was likely to attack Iran for any number of purposes. It could increase the pressure on the Obama administration to take a tougher line with the Iranian regime, or it could serve to remind Iran of Israel's resolve. It also could serve a domestic purpose, to reassure Israelis that their government is proactively engaged with the issue. But deliberate or not, Goldberg's sources seemed nearly unanimous on one point in particular: Israel views an Iranian nuclear weapon as more than just an abstract existential threat, but as something on equal terms with the Holocaust—as a clear echo of a specific historical episode. That key Iranian leaders have explicitly denied the very existence of the Holocaust makes this strain of the debate even more poignant. In the eyes of Israeli policymakers, Ahmadinejad's denial of the Holocaust is more than just the ranting of a leader playing to a domestic constituency. It reinforces their perceived connection between an actual calamity and a potential one.

Anderson, for his part, reports very explicitly that Ahmadinejad and his handlers were trying to use him as a vehicle to deliver a particular message. Although Ahmadinejad spoke in familiar, hyperbolic terms, his media officials hinted very strongly that his interview should focus on the prospects for peace between Iran and the United States. Regardless of whether Anderson's article satisfied Ahmadinejad's handlers, it is notable that they wanted to use him to deliver this particular message. Given the outlet, it seems logical that Ahmadinejad wanted to communicate without the filter of diplomacy or politics, directly to Americans (or at least to New Yorker readers). But one point on which Ahmadinjad's officials seemed quite clear was that the nuclear issue should be disentangled from Israel. As reported by Anderson, it appeared that Iranian officials were open to negotiations with the United States but were much less conciliatory toward Israel. This may be part of an Iranian effort to drive a wedge between Israel and the United States, or it may represent a legitimate opening to resolve the nuclear issue. Either way, it contrasts strongly with Israel's own view (as reported by Goldberg) that Iran's nuclear program is aimed squarely in its direction.

Neither the Park51 controversy nor Iran's nuclear program will be resolved by these latest public debates alone. The U.S. campaign to combat Islamic extremism has many components and will not conclude anytime soon, and the governments of Israel, the United States, and Iran guard their true intentions with the utmost secrecy. But this recent activity in public forums is not merely academic. These open debates can be seen and heard (and are) by a much wider audience than intended. And as public debate can be an unpredictable, unruly thing, it is all too easy for passions to overrule reason, or for deliberately crafted messages to be misinterpreted or manipulated. None of this is to suggest that the debate should be stifled. Instead, it is simply incumbent upon everyone engaged in these public debates to realize that their voices carry, and that their effects may be unpredictable. More than mere glimpses into how the games of foreign policy are played, the public debates about Park51 and the Iranian nuclear program could have a direct and profound effect on their very outcomes.

Foreign Policy Association, 27 August 2010

The Obama administration originally wanted to negotiate a follow-on to the original Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START) by the end of last year, when the treaty expired. Failing that, Obama and Russian President Medvedev ultimately signed a follow-on agreement (nicknamed “New START”) in April. New START sets three principal restrictions on U.S. and Russian nuclear forces, limiting each country to: 1) 1550 active nuclear warheads; 2) 800 total launchers, which include long-range missiles and bombers; and 3) 700 deployed launchers, which refers to delivery vehicles that are considered operational. This represents a 30 percent reduction in the number of deployed nuclear weapons that had been permitted under prior international agreements. Perhaps even more important than the reductions themselves are the extension and modernization of the provisions by which the United States and Russia monitor each other's nuclear arsenals. These provisions build trust, increase transparency, and limit the potential for unpleasant surprises.

To win ratification in the Senate, New START must secure a two-thirds majority. Despite the Democrats' majority in that chamber, acquiring the 67 votes needed for ratification is a tall order. In an election year, and amid an atmosphere of extreme partisanship, the challenge is even greater. The Senate Foreign Relations Committee began holding hearings on New START ratification in June, and a vote by the full Senate on final ratification could take place before the end of this month. But as the pace of ratification has quickened, so too has the intensity and coordination of its opposition. Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney—a Republican presidential candidate in 2008 and potential 2012 contender—published an op-ed that crystallized the emerging conservative argument against ratification. Romney argued that New START constrains the development of a missile defense system and noted the omission from the treaty text of various weapons types, such as rail-based and air-launched ballistic missiles. He also suggested that the treaty greatly favors Russia because it addresses only long-range, high-yield strategic nuclear weapons and not the shorter-ranged and smaller—but potentially more destabilizing—tactical variety; Russia is thought to rely more heavily on tactical weapons than the United States.

Although Romney surely intended the op-ed to burnish his foreign policy credentials in advance of another presidential run, it has served as something a rallying point for opposition to New START. Conservative activists and some Republican senators have taken up many of the points that Romney articulated. But on their merits, many of Romney's arguments fall short. The preamble of New START notes the relationship between offensive strategic arms (nuclear weapons) and defensive strategic arms (missile defenses). But the preamble is not legally binding, and it does not constrain efforts to construct missile defenses by either party. It further notes that currently deployed missile defenses do not undermine the viability of either U.S. or Russian nuclear weapons. This is a rather significant concession by Russia, which had long argued that plans for a U.S. missile defense system in Europe posed a threat to the viability of its nuclear forces, and not simply to Iran's nascent missile capability. As for the rail-based and air-launched ballistic missiles that Romney highlights, a plain reading of the treaty text would seem to cover such weapons—if they were still viable. Although both the United States and Russia have experimented with launching ballistic missiles by railcar and by airplane, neither method has proven to be particularly useful, and neither one represents any kind of serious threat.

To be fair, much of the Republican foreign policy establishment has downplayed or outright rejected many of Romney's arguments. Senator Richard Lugar (R-IN)—the ranking member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and something of a foreign policy mentor for Obama during his time in the Senate—called Romney's op-ed “hyperbolic” and full of “discredited objections.” Even Senator Jon Kyl (R-AZ), who is seen as an important source of potential opposition in the Senate, responded to Romney's arguments by calling New START “relatively benign.” Indeed, Romney's specific points of opposition were so roundly rejected by experts from across the political spectrum that they can almost be dismissed outright.

The underlying thrust of Romney's critique, however, is quite serious. It represents just the latest incarnation of a strain of U.S. foreign policy thinking that rejects “foreign entanglements” of all kinds. The term, as popularized in George Washington's farewell address, was intended as a warning for future Americans to avoid being pulled into conflicts that were not their own. But in some conservative quarters, that strain of thinking has evolved over the centuries into an aversion to any kind of international cooperation that could be interpreted as limiting not just U.S. freedom of action, but U.S. power and influence. Compelling arguments can be made that New START does exactly the opposite and actually enhances U.S power—the United States has such superiority in conventional weaponry that any global reduction of the role of nuclear weapons would, by definition, increase the relative power of the United States. But for many politicians, it is far too easy to associate a binding arms-control agreement with a weaker United States. This argument has a certain superficial traction (especially in the hyper-partisan environment of an election year), but it is not supported by reality, and its advocates do a disservice to responsible, popular policy discourse

One of Romney's specific critiques, however, is particularly valid. New START only addresses the active, strategic nuclear arsenals of the United States and Russia. It does not address the thousands of nuclear weapons in reserve or the shorter-ranged, tactical weapons maintained by both countries. Many of Russia's tactical nuclear weapons pose no direct threat to the United States. They are either intended to deter an attack from China or are dedicated to air defense or naval purposes. Omitting them from New START does not upset the strategic balance between the United States and Russia. But it does leave out an entire class of nuclear weaponry, one that may be less secure than strategic weapons and potentially more amenable to actual use. The omission of tactical weapons does nothing to undermine a treaty that was never designed to include them. But this does not mean that they should go unaddressed. New START also does not include the arsenals of other nuclear powers, such as France and China. Although these countries have far fewer weapons than the United States or Russia, every nuclear weapon—in any country's arsenal—is a dangerous, potentially destabilizing tool.

This is where New START's greatest value may lie. Not only does it continue the tradition of transparency and verifiability between the United States and Russia, but it advances the overall cause of arms control diplomacy. If New START is ratified, it will reduce U.S. and Russian nuclear arsenals and bring them closer in number to the more limited stockpiles of the world's other nuclear powers. When nuclear arsenals are measured in the hundreds and not the thousands, then every nuclear weapon in the world—and not just those of the United States and Russia—will become eligible for a negotiated reduction. The fate of this process likely will be determined in the coming days and weeks, in the chamber of the U.S. Senate.

Foreign Policy Association, 22 July 2010

Turkey, in particular, has exerted its influence in highly visible ways in recent months. In May, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan and President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva of Brazil announced a deal to reprocess Iranian nuclear fuel (for more, see The Water's Edge, May 2010). This deal was harshly criticized by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, who claimed that the Iranians had taken advantage of Turkey and Brazil and that the deal would undermine efforts to contain Iran's nuclear ambitions. The UN Security Council ultimately approved new, tougher sanctions on Iran, over the dissenting votes of Turkey and Brazil.

A few weeks later, Israeli security forces killed nine Turkish civilians while attempting to stop an aid convoy from breaching Israeli's blockade of the Gaza Strip. The convoy originated in Turkey and was sponsored by a Turkish NGO. The global reaction to the Israeli action was understandably harsh, but it paled in comparison to the Turkish reaction. “Israel stands to lose its closest ally in the Middle East if it does not change its mentality,” Erdogan warned. Turkey and Israel do have a history of close relations, but under Erdogan's premiership, the relationship had cooled considerably. Erdogan has been particularly harsh in his criticism of Israeli behavior in Gaza, and the deaths of Turkish citizens only intensified Turkish attitudes. Although the Turkish government did not officially sanction the aid convoy, Erdogan certainly was sympathetic to its mission

Historically, Turkey's importance has been defined by its geography. During the Cold War, the United States perceived Turkey as on the fringes of more important regions—it was far from the flashpoints of Central Europe, too far north of Israel and the oil in the Middle East, and not quite amid the client state chess match in Africa. After the Soviet Union fell, the notion of Turkey as a “bridge”—between Europe and Asia, between Islam and democracy, between the West and the East—became more popular. But in the past 10 years, attitudes within Turkey have changed. Erdogan came to power in 2002 with a clear mandate and a strong parliamentary majority, riding the popularity of his mildly-Islamist AK Party. Progress toward joining the European Union—long a dream of Turkish secularists hoping to anchor Turkey firmly in the West—stalled, due primarily not to a lack of reform in Turkey but to intransigence and opposition in Europe. All the while, Turkey has experienced robust economic growth and increasing demand for its exports in Africa, the Middle East, and Asia.

All of these factors have led to a remarkable increase in Turkey's influence in its region. If earlier observers (both Turkish and foreign) had thought of Turkey as a bridge between two worlds, or as a conduit through which others' ideas and influence could pass, Turkey now sees itself as a hub from which its own influence now radiates. Fueled by a sense of historical nationalism that is shared by Islamists and secularists alike, Turkey is now pursuing what it calls a “zero problems with neighbors” foreign policy. The Iranian nuclear deal is an example of the open, conciliatory approach that this policy entails. Turkey's close relationship with Israel—unique in the Muslim world—also could be seen within the context of this policy. Israel's military action in Gaza in January 2009, however, precipitated a strong negative reaction from Turkey. Erdogan's visible opposition to Israel has made him something of a leader in the Arab street—which, of course, only improves the prospects of Turkish exports to the region. But recent events have shown that seeking greater influence is not always compatible with a “zero problems” foreign policy, especially in a region as volatile as the Middle East. Regardless of Erdogan's diplomatic skills, maintaining close relations with both Iran and Israel at the same time is unlikely to result in “zero problems.”

On the other side of the world, Japan also has found its interests increasingly coming into conflict with those of the United States. This tension recently manifested itself with the resignation of Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama. Last year, the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP)—which had ruled Japan nearly uninterrupted for 55 years—was defeated in parliamentary elections by the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ), under the leadership of Hatoyama. This represented a monumental change in a political system that had grown ossified, stale, and increasingly beholden to an unaccountable and entrenched bureaucracy. Hatoyama primarily ran on a campaign that pledged to up-root this governing system and introduce a “politician-led” government; after years of economic and political stagnation, this was a popular platform, and the DPJ won handily.

But Hatoyama also ran on a subtle redefinition of Japan's alliance with the United States. While pledging that the U.S. alliance was of vital importance to Japan, Hatoyama stressed that the relationship should exist more on a more equal basis, implying that Japan would not blindly accede to U.S. wishes. This language proved especially popular in Okinawa, which is home to a disproportionate number of U.S. military bases. These bases have long been a source of tension, due to their persistent noise and commotion as well as to several episodes of off-duty U.S. soldiers assaulting Okinawan civilians. In 2006, the Bush administration negotiated a deal with the LDP government at the time to move a significant portion of the U.S. troops on Okinawa to Guam and to relocate one of the major bases on Okinawa to a more sparsely populated location on the island. The deal was intended to address civilian concerns on Okinawa, but because it did not entirely remove the U.S. bases, it was an incomplete solution at best. As part of his platform of redefining the U.S. alliance, Hatoyama pledged to renegotiate the deal to remove U.S. bases from Okinawa entirely.

In many ways, the U.S. response to Hatoyama's stance was predictable. It had negotiated a difficult deal in good faith with Hatoyama's predecessor, and the Defense Department had already begun to make long-term planning decisions based on that deal. Nevertheless, upon taking office, Hatoyama continued to insist to his domestic constituency that the deal would be renegotiated, while appearing to send different signals altogether to the United States. U.S. policymakers, from Obama downward, grew colder and more rigid toward Hatoyama's mixed messages, until the prime minister relented in May and agreed to implement the deal as negotiated in 2006. This unpopular decision broke one of Hatoyama's most prominent campaign pledges, and it led to his resignation earlier this month—giving Japan its fifth new leader in just four years.

The nature of the U.S. alliance with Japan is similar in some respects to its alliance with Turkey. As with Turkey, Japan's unique geography suited U.S. interests during the Cold War. It served almost as seal on Soviet ambitions in the Pacific, and it was strategically located to contain North Korea and support U.S. troops in South Korea. In recent decades, it has served U.S. interests as a useful check on the growing influence of China. Economically, the U.S. and Japan are very tightly linked. Through their alliance, the U.S. has effectively underwritten Japan's defense, allowing Japan to become the world's second-largest economy and a major exporter to the United States. In recent years, however, unease with a relationship has grown, on both sides. Many U.S. officials feel that Japan should carry a greater burden in international affairs and that Washington no longer needs to subsidize Japan's defense. In Japan, some conservative elements view the U.S.-written constitution that forbids offensive military forces as insulting and outdated. Witnessing the growth of China firsthand, some Japanese wonder if the country would be better served by re-orienting its foreign policy accordingly, away from the United States.

In the case of both Turkey and Japan, the interests of the United States are increasingly (and more vocally) coming into conflict with those of its ally. In part, this is due to the relative decline of U.S. influence and to the rise of other global and regional powers. But it is also due to a decades-long tradition of short-term thinking about how the U.S. manages its international alliances. If these are alliances worth maintaining, they must be premised on a set of shared principles and long-term objectives that benefit both partners. Once these principles are established, the U.S. should avoid the temptation of geopolitical myopia. If Turkey shows its independence from the U.S. on issues like Iran's nuclear program or Israel's behavior in Gaza, its credibility among its Muslim neighbors increases. If Japan can redefine its alliance with the U.S. on its own terms, stability may return to its tumultuous politics, allowing it to address serious economic and demographic challenges. The U.S. benefits under both scenarios, as its long-term interests neatly coincide with those of its ally.

Turkey and Japan may have short-term goals that seem to be at odds with U.S. objectives, and in the fast-moving world of diplomacy, this apparent gap may appear significant and worrisome. But each country exists within its own political, economic, and social universe, over which the United States cannot—and should not—hope to exert complete control. As long as the U.S. trusts the fundamental long-term objectives of its allies, it should be more understanding of their short-term policy fluctuations and simply take their louder and discordant voices in stride.

Foreign Policy Association, 25 June 2010

Events surrounding Iran's nuclear aspirations have become somewhat predictable in recent years. Despite repeated assertions that it does not seek nuclear weapons, Iran has flouted NPT requirements and maintained secret nuclear facilities that have been off-limits to international inspectors. But unlike fellow scofflaw North Korea, Iran has technically remained a party to the NPT. Although it does not currently possess nuclear weapons, and its claims for not desiring them may be legitimate, it seems clear that at the very least Iran seeks to master the nuclear fuel cycle. This would give Iran “breakout” capacity—it wouldn't have nuclear weapons, but it would have the ability to build them on short notice.

The response of Iran's neighbors both near and far has followed a similar pattern. Given the aggressive statements of Iran's leaders and the country's long-standing support of Hezbollah and Hamas, Israel views the potential of Iranian nuclear weapons as an existential threat. It is consistently at the vanguard of those advocating a strong response to Iran's NPT transgressions. But Israel's unacknowledged nuclear arsenal lies at the core of Iran's public defense of its own nuclear program: How can Israel, a non-NPT state, be allowed to possess nuclear weapons while Iran, which has remained within the NPT, cannot simply pursue nuclear technology? This argument carries a great deal of weight within the region, but others weigh just as heavily. Saudi Arabia and Egypt, for example, share Iran's view about the hypocrisy of Israel's nuclear arsenal. But they view Shia Iran as a challenger to their own Sunni pre-eminence in the Middle East and in the Muslim world. Despite protestations about Israeli nuclear hypocrisy, there is no country in the Middle East that would welcome a nuclear-armed Iran.

Further afield, the UN Security Council has been a key forum for airing claims about Iranian noncompliance and for levying sanctions. The five permanent members plus Germany (known as the “P 5+1”) have represented the principal negotiating team. Although U.S. policy may seem to have changed dramatically when Barack Obama succeeded George Bush, both presidents have followed a relatively consistent course that refuses to condone Iranian nuclear weapons and pushes for escalating sanctions in the face of increasing Iranian noncompliance, while stopping short (so far) of direct military action.

In the past, the United Kingdom, France, and Germany have made their own overtures (as a group) toward Iran, but especially since Obama's election, they have generally followed U.S. policy. China and Russia, on the other hand, have consistently been the greatest hurdles for tougher sanctions on Iran. Russia has provided assistance to Iran's nuclear program in the past and continues to equip Iran's armed forces, and China is a major importer of Iranian oil. Beyond their immediate concerns (or lack thereof) with Iran's nuclear program, both China and Russia view a Western-dominated world order with trepidation. Resistance to tougher sanctions on Iran has been an important way for China and Russia to flex their independent muscles.

But in recent weeks, amid the ongoing NPT review conference, some new players have entered the Iranian nuclear game. With great fanfare, Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva and Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced a breakthrough deal with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Under the terms of the deal, Iran would ship some of its low enriched uranium to Turkey, which would hold the material until it could be reprocessed to a level of enrichment suitable for civilian use but not for weaponization. The reprocessed uranium then would be returned to Iran for civilian use.

For the United States and its allies, this proposal would remove from Iran some of the material that it could use to develop nuclear weapons. For Iran, the proposal would allow it access to the nuclear material it claims it needs for civilian purposes. The deal is reminiscent of a proposal that fell apart last October that would have had Iran ship some of its low enriched uranium to Russia and France for reprocessing for civilian nuclear use. The quantity to be shipped out of Iran under the Brazilian/Turkish proposal is the same as in the deal of a few months ago. Iran's total stock of uranium, however, has increased significantly since then. Whereas the October deal would have deprived Iran of sufficient uranium to produce a bomb, the Brazilian/Turkish deal would leave Iran with enough material to do just that.

Naturally, the United States and its allies on the Security Council were skeptical of the Brazilian/Turkish proposal. Not only did it seem like a weaker rehashing of their own earlier deal, it seemed to undermine the growing momentum for a new round of tougher sanctions against Iran. As it happens, both Brazil and Turkey currently hold rotating seats on the Security Council. But any effort to undermine the perception of unanimity among the international community—regardless of Security Council votes—could be seen as a boon to the Iranian regime's efforts to stymie Western restrictions on its nuclear program. Indeed, shortly after the Brazilian/Turkish deal was announced, the United States announced a broad agreement (including Russia and China) on a new round of sanctions against Iran. The Security Council could vote on the sanctions in the next month.

Regardless of whether the Brazilian/Turkish deal will trump a new round of sanctions, one thing is particularly noteworthy about this month's spate of diplomacy: Where did Brazil and Turkey come from, and why do they care about the Iranian nuclear program?

The answer is a bit clearer with Turkey, as an immediate neighbor of Iran. Since taking office, Erdogan has earnestly pursued a “zero problems with neighbors” foreign policy. The country has long held a unique strategic position, but a strong government and a growing economy have given Turkey greater clout in the region, and it has attempted to use this clout to resolve regional issues. Relations with Greece, Syria, and Armenia are all remarkably strong, and although Turkey's relations with Israel have become a bit tenser, this is a natural consequence of being more sensitive to regional concerns. Brazil, for its part, is finally realizing its longstanding potential as a global power. Under the successful and dynamic leadership of Lula, Brazil has leveraged its significant economic weight more aggressively on the world stage. Although its appearance in the forum of nuclear diplomacy took some by surprise, what is perhaps more surprising is that it has taken Brazil so long to make its presence felt. It is the ninth largest economy in the world, and many feel it is time it started acting as such.

As with many international relations challenges, Iran's nuclear program is can be viewed through multiple lenses. Regionally, it poses a security risk to Israel, while simultaneously drawing attention to that country's own clandestine nuclear program. It also threatens to escalate the centuries-old duel between Persians and Arabs for pre-eminence in the Muslim world. Globally, Iran's nuclear program presents a major challenge to the nonproliferation regime embodied by the NPT. If nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament are worthy goals (and Obama certainly thinks they are), then Iran's nuclear program must not be allowed to remain opaque and unaccountable. Iran's program represents a profound threat not only to the NPT, but also to the notion that international regimes can define and enforce global norms and address multilateral problems.

But aside from the direct security challenges that Iran's nuclear program presents to its neighbors and the indirect challenges it poses to the effectiveness of global regimes, it also has served to illuminate the shifting balance of power among states in the international system. For the past decade, at least, the issue has served a vehicle for Russia and China to exert their growing and evolving influence on world affairs, primarily due to their permanent membership on the Security Council and to their growing economic clout. But more recently, global upstarts like Brazil and Turkey have inserted themselves into the process. Their motivations are multiple, and are surely self-serving, in part. Regardless of its merits, the Brazilian/Turkish proposal is a serious one, and it demonstrates the emerging “democratization” of the global balance of power. Whether or not this is a good thing is as yet unclear, and so too are the potential winners and losers from a world in which emerging powers exert greater influence. What is clear, however, is that the balance is inexorably shifting, and both the current and emerging powers must quickly learn to operate in this new reality.

Foreign Policy Association, 28 May 2010

It has long been clear that the first few months of 2010 would be busy ones for the field of nuclear nonproliferation (for more, see The Water's Edge, January 2010). What was perhaps more difficult to predict was the remarkable timing of certain key events. First came the announcement of a follow-on START agreement between the United States and Russia. The new START agreement sets three principal limits on both U.S. and Russian nuclear forces: 1) 1550 active nuclear warheads; 2) 800 total launchers, which include long-range missiles and bombers; and 3) 700 deployed launchers, which means delivery vehicles considered operational. This represents a 30 percent reduction in the number of deployed nuclear weapons permitted under prior international agreements. Nevertheless, criticism has emerged. Some suggest the reductions are too modest and may not even require cuts beyond what already had been planned. Others note the ridiculousness of counting a bomber as one nuclear weapon, while some say that the treaty may limit U.S. efforts to deploy a missile defense system. Regardless of their accuracy or merit, these critiques are important--the new treaty must be ratified by the Senate before it can take effect. This will require 67 votes, and it is by no means certain that Obama can corral enough Republican support to meet this target. But despite the ratification challenges that lie ahead, the treaty unambiguously does one important thing: it implements a monitoring system that is binding upon both countries, and it reestablishes a basis of trust between the United States and Russia.

Between the announcement of the new START treaty and its signing in Prague came the release of the Obama administration's Nuclear Posture Review (NPR), which lays out the overall nuclear strategy of the United States. This was only the third NPR conducted since the end of the Cold War and will likely be Obama's only such review. The NPR stated that the “fundamental” role of the U.S. nuclear arsenal was to deter nuclear attack on the United States and its allies, and it placed significant emphasis on the growing threat of nuclear proliferation to state and non-state actors alike. It foreswore a nuclear retaliation in response to a chemical or biological attack on the United States. And although it did not pledge a “no first use” policy, it did state that the United States would not use or threaten to use nuclear weapons against any country that is party to the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty (NPT) and is in compliance with its provisions. This language artfully makes an exception for a country like Iran. But enshrining the NPT in U.S. nuclear policy sends a powerful symbolic message to the world that international regimes—and compliance with them—still mean something.

Following quickly on the heels of the new START agreement and the release of the NPR was the Nuclear Security Summit, convened by Obama in Washington DC. This gathering sought to draw attention to the dangers posed by unsecured nuclear materials and to set an agenda for dealing with them. Notably, in addition to the typical communiqués that emerge from any international summit, several concrete steps actually were achieved. Ukraine, Canada, and Chile agreed to divest themselves of their stocks of highly enriched uranium, which is particularly vulnerable from a proliferation standpoint. But the summit achieved more that just these concrete steps. It drew leaders from 47 countries, making it the largest U.S.-hosted international gathering since the founding of the United Nations in San Francisco in 1945. The power of that historic show of commitment may be hard to quantify, and it will mean nothing if nuclear proliferation continues apace. But it has immense value in terms of highlighting the urgency and importance of the issue.

Each of these events has been in the planning stages for months. That they all reached their climactic final stages within a two-week span is due partly to coincidence, but also partly to a deft recognition of potential opportunity. Of all of the events, the one most fixed in the calendar was the Nuclear Security Summit. Obama had spoken of convening a summit to address nuclear security issues since before his inauguration, and Spring 2010 had long been the most likely timeframe for such a gathering. The other events, however, have been victims of repeated and unanticipated delays. Since the START treaty expired last year, negotiators had been working feverishly to complete a follow-on agreement. Indeed, Obama would have preferred to have reached an agreement before START expired, and failing that, an agreement sooner would have been better than one later. Likewise, the completion of the NPR has been delayed for several months due to internal disputes within the Obama administration. But in the case of the NPR (and, to a slightly lesser degree, the START follow-on treaty), there was no doubt about its eventual completion; it was just a matter of when.

As each initiative faced greater delay, the potential of coordinating their ultimate culmination probably occurred only suddenly. But once it did, the effect of fortuitous timing was a great boon, and it was not felt by Obama alone. Based on public accounts, it seems that the START follow-on agreement was the event over which the Obama administration had the least control. But that isn't to say that the calendar didn't weigh heavily on the minds of the participants. Knowing the nuclear security summit was fast approaching, and knowing that he would be in attendance himself, Russian President Dimitry Medvedev probably faced pressure to reach a START agreement before traveling to Washington. Being perceived as a historic statesman is just as important to Medvedev and his domestic constituencies as it is to Obama's and his.

The fortuitous timing is not over yet. Next month, signatories to the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty (NPT) will gather in New York to review progress toward the treaty's goals and to consider any needed changes. The NPT is the bedrock of the global nonproliferation regime, but it has found itself under increasing strain in recent years from the proliferation challenges presented by Iran and North Korea. The NPT Review Conference, above all else that has happened in recent weeks, is the event most locked into the calendar. Review conferences happen every five years at the United Nations, and this conference will draw representatives from an even wider range of countries than Obama's nuclear security summit. The last review conference, in 2005, convened in the aftermath of the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the ensuing widespread mistrust of U.S. intentions. Next month's conference thus offers a unique opportunity to advance the NPT's nonproliferation and disarmament goals. That it will take place amidst a U.S. presidential administration that has so explicitly committed itself to nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament is yet another coincidence of timing.

What is not entirely coincidental, however, has been how Obama has arrayed the roadmap of events this spring. Operating with the knowledge that certain anchors of timing would be immovable (the NPT Review Conference), he arranged to schedule that which he could (the Nuclear Security Summit) in such a manner as to build momentum for the following event. For those events over which he had only limited control (the signing of the START follow-on treaty and the completion of the NPR), the synergies of timing only helped; the urgency of scheduled conferences spurred resolution of the new START treaty, and within certain limits, the release of the NPR was able to be coordinated with external events.

If nothing else, the events of the past few weeks have demonstrated Obama's sense of timing, his stamina, and—to no small degree—his luck. But they are also reflective of something else. Although nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament have been key goals of this administration, so too has been changing the tone of the previous administration and realizing a shift in global perception of the United States. Regardless of the specific achievements over the past few weeks, the world has seen the United States take a leading role on an issue of global importance. Crucially, the leadership exhibited has not been perceived as overbearing or unilateral. At its core has been a recognition of the importance of international treaties, regimes, and understandings. This is a powerful change in tone that differs dramatically from what has come before, and it is central to Obama's conception of the United States' role in the world. Whether this comparatively new approach will achieve every U.S. policy objective remains to be seen. But the results so far are promising.

Foreign Policy Association, 23 April 2010

The U.S. relationship with Israel is simultaneously one of the country's most important and one of its most troubled. From the Israeli perspective, Obama entered office under a degree of suspicion. Republican presidents traditionally have been seen as more amenable to the Israeli security concerns, and Obama's professed desire to reach out to the Muslim world struck many Israeli observers as naïve at best and as dangerous at worst. Obama has yet to visit Israel as president, so the recent visit by Vice President Joe Biden assumed a great deal of symbolic value. But in the midst of Biden's visit, and shortly after the resumption of indirect talks between Israel and the Palestinians had been announced, Israel's Interior Minister revealed plans to construct 1600 new housing units in East Jerusalem, which has been under Israeli control since the 1967 war. An unquestionably inflammatory move, the announcement undermined the tenuous trust between Israelis, Palestinians, and the U.S. officials who hoped to bring them back to the negotiating table. The timing of the announcement was too pointed to be coincidental. The most plausible explanation was that the announcement was timed if not to embarrass Biden (and Obama, by extension), then at least to demonstrate Israeli independence.

Obama is also facing greater resistance on another complex issue. Last year, the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START) with Russia expired. Negotiators from both countries had been working feverishly to produce a follow-on treaty before START expired, and failing that, they resumed negotiations early this year. Many of the key parameters of a follow-on treaty had been decided, and it was hoped that a formal treaty would not take long to finalize (for more, see The Water's Edge, January 2010). But no treaty has emerged. In large part, this is due to challenges that have been inherent in the process since the beginning. Although both sides have reached a rough understanding on the number of warheads and delivery vehicles a new treaty would permit, Russian concerns about verification procedures persist. Russia also appears increasingly insistent on linking U.S. missile defense plans in Europe with the START follow-on treaty. In February, Romania announced that it had agreed to serve as a base for the U.S. missile defense system in Europe. This would have bothered Russia under any scenario, but the Romanian announcement came before U.S. officials could privately inform their Russian counterparts. This miscue in timing may have spurred Russia's intransigence and its willingness to delay a key component of Obama's nonproliferation agenda.

Are Israel and Russia disrespecting Obama or taking advantage of his supposed distraction from foreign policy? Or do recent reactions to U.S. policies say something deeper about Obama's priorities? The Israeli announcement of housing construction succeeded in raising the ire of the Obama administration. Biden said the announcement ran “counter to the constructive discussions” he had been having in Israel, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton called the timing of the announcement “insulting.” Although the episode certainly seemed to be a deliberate affront to U.S. efforts to restart the peace process, the underlying reality complicates that picture. Netanyahu leads a coalition government with several far-right parties that unequivocally oppose the peace process, and the Interior Minister happens to lead one of those parties. It is likely that the announcement was made during Biden's visit without Netanyahu's knowledge, and instead of being designed to embarrass the Obama administration, it may have been targeted at Netanyahu's. Nevertheless, Netanyahu left Washington this week after meetings with Obama that failed to produce even the standard joint statement, leaving U.S.-Israel relations in no better shape than they were upon the Israeli Prime Minister's arrival.

The delay in finalizing a START follow-on treaty was, in a certain sense, inevitable. Arms control treaties are uniquely sensitive and time consuming, and this is especially true for Russia, which sees its nuclear arsenal as central to its post-Cold War influence and prestige. The timing of the Romanian missile defense announcement was clearly botched, but it could not have been a great surprise to Russia. Last year, Obama announced a complete reconfiguration of U.S. missile defense plans in which greater emphasis would be placed on smaller interceptor missiles that would pose less of a threat to Russia's arsenal (for more, see The Water's Edge, September 2009). That the new scheme retained plans for European bases was widely reported and acknowledged. And if the new missile defense plan was an important piece of Obama's national security strategy, his emphasis on nuclear nonproliferation is an essential strategic keystone. Obama has championed nonproliferation issues since long before his presidency, and the coming months will witness several important milestones along the path toward achieving his stated goal of a nuclear weapons-free world. In April, Obama will host a special international summit designed to curb the spread of nuclear materials, and in May, the UN will host the review conference for the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, which are held every five years. Obama is pushing hard for a START follow-on treaty to build momentum for the events that follow, and it is only natural that such pressure would yield some pushback from Russia. And if reports this week of a final agreement are correct, then Obama's efforts finally will have paid off.

The world of diplomacy is often marked by an excessive and artificial display of politeness. But when sensitive political or security issues are at stake, international actors never hesitate to disregard propriety in the name of their own self-interest. A U.S. president who seems pre-occupied with domestic policy may appear to be a ripe target to be needled, prodded, or otherwise pushed around. But one can only be pushed around when they have forced their way into issues that could easily be left alone. The tensions that have been building in the U.S.-Israel relationship are not a consequence of Obama's withdrawal from it, but rather of his deeper engagement in it. He has pushed Netanyahu hard to freeze settlement construction in the West Bank and to reopen direct negotiations with the Palestinians. And although a START follow-on treaty was inevitable, Obama's focus on nuclear nonproliferation issues and his decision to reconfigure U.S. missile defense plans were by no means a foregone conclusion. These were deliberate policies that he adopted, of which one of the consequences was a tougher, more drawn-out series of negotiations with Russia. Israel and Russia have not disrespected Obama or taken advantage of his domestic political circumstances. Rather, Obama has staked out contentious policies that have placed him in exposed positions. In other words, he's just as engaged as he should be.

Foreign Policy Association, 26 March 2010

In Afghanistan itself, U.S. and allied forces — together with their Afghan counterparts — launched a major offensive to clear the town of Marja, in the Helmand Province in southern Afghanistan. Billed as the largest effort of its kind since the fall of the Taliban in 2001, the Marja offensive seeks to clear a region that has been an important Taliban sanctuary and a hub for drug production and trafficking. The effort is notable for more than just its magnitude. U.S. commanders have tried to emphasize that Afghan government forces have been given a lead role in the operation. Although the bulk of the fighting has been borne by U.S. and British soldiers, it is true that a significant number of Afghan troops have been involved in the operation.

The Marja offensive is also notable for what it is not. Although sharp fighting was reported early in the operation, the most significant challenge—openly acknowledged by U.S. commanders—will come after the fighting has ended. Since 2006, the Taliban has been increasingly successful in undermining government legitimacy across wide swaths of Afghanistan. Fighters are drawn from the local population and are difficult for U.S. forces to target without more troops on the ground. As Taliban forces are attacked, they disappear among the population, only to re-emerge when U.S. forces depart — as they inevitably do. The Taliban have instituted “shadow” governments in parts of the country that allied forces could not secure and that the regime of President Hamid Karzai could not control. In Marja, the objective is to restore that control and regain government legitimacy. Once the region is cleared of Taliban fighters, U.S. and allied forces will hold and secure the area as the Afghan government attempts to provide police, services, and development assistance. “We've got a government in a box, ready to roll in,” said General Stanley McChrystal, commander of U.S. forces in Afghanistan. The challenge will lie in making the “government in a box” take root.

Just as U.S. and Afghan forces were beginning to clear Marja, news emerged of the capture of a major Taliban leader in Pakistan. U.S. and Pakistani intelligence agents arrested Mullah Abdul Ghani Baradar, the Taliban's military commander and the deputy to the movement's founder, in Karachi. He is the highest-ranking Taliban official yet arrested by U.S. or Pakistani forces, and he potentially could provide a wealth of intelligence about Taliban operations. His arrest also could place significant limitations on the capacity of the Taliban leadership, which might prove to be an important advantage as the Marja campaign unfolds. Several days after news of Baradar's arrest emerged, it was reported that two of the Taliban's “shadow governors” had also been arrested, also in Pakistan. Just as with Baradar's arrest, the capture of the shadow governors could provide a wealth of information and significantly hinder Taliban operations. At the very least, it provides a morale boost for U.S. and Afghan soldiers fighting in Marja.

Perhaps the most important fact about the recent Taliban arrests, however, is that they took place in Pakistan. In Baradar's case, the arrest occurred hundreds of miles from the Afghan border, giving immediate credence to the entire “AfPak” construction. The arrests could not have taken place without the cooperation of Pakistan's Directorate for Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), which sponsored the Taliban's rise to power in Afghanistan in the 1990s. The ISI's support for the Taliban was deep-seated and complex, but it was rooted Pakistan's desire to have a stable western border. If that was possible, Pakistan could focus its defenses eastward, toward its main rival India. The U.S. invasion of Afghanistan upended this policy, forcing Pakistan into a very conflicted position. The tribal areas along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border have served as a base for Taliban fighters, but Pakistan has done little to eliminate their safe haven, despite facing its own growing threat from a Pakistani variant of the Taliban. The recent arrests may indicate a change of mood among the Pakistani leadership, particularly in the ISI. If they have become convinced that the Afghan Taliban and the Pakistani Taliban are pieces of a larger threat to the region, and if they see their own security threatened by a resurgent Taliban movement in Afghanistan, Pakistani authorities may be more willing to crack down on Taliban fighters in their midst.

Taken together, the operation in Marja and the arrests in Pakistan could signal an important shift of momentum in the Afghan war, away from a resurgent Taliban and toward U.S. and Afghan government forces. This would be a significant fulfillment of Obama's Afghanistan strategy, pieces of which have been developed and revealed over the past year. Richard Holbrooke, the person credited by many as the source for the “AfPak” term, was appointed by Obama as his special representative in the region early in his presidency. Months of diplomacy by him, Stanley McChrystal, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, and General David Petraeus (commander of the U.S. Central Command) may have helped convince Pakistan to cooperate more fully in fighting the Afghan Taliban. Last December, Obama announced the deployment of 30,000 additional troops to Afghanistan to bolster McChrystal's new counter-insurgency strategy. The Marja operation is an important test of that strategy, which requires more soldiers to defend the civilian population from Taliban influence and to give the Afghan government a chance to reassert control.

Even if recent events do signal a change in momentum, it isn't clear that this would be sufficient to defeat the Taliban in the long-run. As novel as McChrystal's population-centric counter-insurgency may appear — especially in comparison to earlier U.S. tactics in Afghanistan — it really is nothing new. The “clear, hold, build” strategy is a classic approach to dealing with a robust insurgency and a weak central government. It is premised on the fact that an insurgency's greatest source of strength is its popularity among the civilian population. If that loyalty can be transferred to the preferred governmental authorities—if their “hearts and minds” can be won, in other words—the insurgency can be deprived of its lifeblood. The problem is that while this strategy is eminently logical on paper, it is not foolproof in practice. It is true that each insurgency is unique, and there is no indication that the Taliban holds the genuine loyalty of many Afghans; whatever popular support the Taliban has comes from intimidation and ethnic Pashtun solidarity. But the tactics employed by McChrystal do not differ from those used unsuccessfully in countless other counterinsurgency operations through history. He is further burdened by the inherent corruption and ineffectiveness of the Karzai regime, which has yet to acquit itself well. U.S. and allied forces will undoubtedly be able to “clear” and “hold” Marja, but if the Afghan government cannot “build,” their effort will be for naught.

None of this may matter. The goals of Obama's Afghan strategy, as presented last December, are strikingly clear: deny al-Qaeda a safe haven; reverse the Taliban's momentum and deny it the ability to overthrow the Afghan government; and strengthen Afghanistan's security forces and government. Notably absent from those goals is any mention of “defeating” the Taliban. This is probably borne both of necessity and good judgment. Politically, it would have been difficult for Obama to send McChrystal the 80,000 additional soldiers he requested, and it is questionable whether even that number would have been sufficient to destroy the Taliban. Strategically, the notion of conclusively “defeating” an insurgency is as old as the “clear, hold, build” strategy itself; barring enormous investment of resources and a nearly limitless appetite for destruction, central governments have poor track record of crushing insurgencies (for more, see The Water's Edge, May 2009). It is to Obama's credit that his Afghanistan policy matches capability with ambition so closely. But to succeed, expectations must be equally realistic. The Taliban will not be defeated. With more troops, better tactics, and closer cooperation from Pakistan, the most that the United States and the Afghan government ultimately can hope for is some kind of negotiated settlement with the Taliban. Given the tumult of Afghan history, such an outcome would not be half bad.

Foreign Policy Association, 5 March 2010

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

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

A convenient way of interpreting such orientations is through political and economic geography. During the Cold War, U.S. foreign policy was oriented toward the containment of Communist expansion. This orientation was global in scale, but its geographic emphasis was Europe. Historically, this made sense. Both world wars had erupted in Europe, and the United States had invested significant resources in rebuilding and securing the continent after World War II. The region held a cultural affinity for millions of Americans, and it maintained close economic ties with the United States. Looking forward, the orientation on Europe also made sense. It represented the vanguard of Soviet expansion, with hundreds of thousands of troops in East Germany and the prospect of nuclear conflict representing the most dangerous security challenge in the world. Following the Cold War, the orientation of U.S. foreign policy began to drift, until 2001, when the 9/11 attacks refocused attention on the suppression of global terrorism.

Under President Obama, the suppression of terrorism still remains a paramount objective. But in his tone and his actions, it seems clear that terrorism is not the prism through which he views the world. Likewise, Obama places great value on the U.S. relationship with Europe. He has already paid several visits to the continent, and he is quite popular there. But from the U.S. perspective, the relative importance of Europe has been waning. This reality became increasingly clear in November.

During Obama's first trip to Asia this month, the president paid visits to Japan, Singapore, China, and South Korea. At each stop, the importance of Asia as Obama's prevailing foreign policy orientation became increasingly clear. Of all of the countries on his itinerary, it is Japan's relationship with the United States that has most resembled the United States' relationship with Europe. Japan rebuilt itself after World War II under the protection of the United States and developed a political and economic system that was friendly to the United States' Cold War ideology. To this day, Japan houses thousands of U.S. soldiers, and disagreement over the relocation of important U.S. bases on Okinawa dominated much of Obama's discussion with Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama. Obama also used Japan, as the oldest and most reliable U.S. ally on his itinerary, as the venue to deliver a wide-ranging speech on the importance of Asia. He emphasized the importance of long-standing U.S. treaty obligations in the region and the value of cultivating economic “spheres of cooperation, not competing spheres of influence.” Obama also announced that the United States would engage with the Trans Pacific Partnership, a regional Asia-Pacific free trade agreement that currently includes only four countries but could eventually form the basis for a much wider trade bloc.

In Singapore, Obama both reiterated a long-standing commitment in the region and began a new one. He participated in the meeting of leaders from the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) countries, which U.S. presidents have made a habit of doing in recent years. But Obama also participated in a summit with leaders from the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN). This was the first time a U.S. president had met with ASEAN leaders in a formal summit, and the act carried significant symbolic value. Paving the way for the joint summit was Obama's willingness to meet with a leader from Burma, an ASEAN member but also a notoriously repressive state. Obama's meeting with Prime Minister Thein Sein was the first time a U.S. president had directly interacted with a Burmese leader in over 40 years, and it was a reflection of his new strategy of trying to engage with the military regime there in the hope of encouraging reform. Obama's meeting yielded little in the way of specific concessions, but the fact that he valued deeper engagement in the region over a long-standing refusal to meet with Burmese leaders was an important shift in U.S. policy.

Obama's visit to China could be considered the heart of his trip to Asia. He held a town hall meeting with students in Shanghai and met with President Hu Jintao in Beiing. Critics have suggested that Obama left China with few concessions from the Communist regime. They note that he was unable to secure wider broadcast of his town hall meeting in Shanghai or convince the government to modify its currency policy or support a tougher approach toward Iran. On these points, the critics are correct. Whether that necessarily represents a failure, however, is not as clear. The reality is that the United States cannot dictate to China as it once could, or as it might wish to today. Not only is its economy large and growing, China also holds $800 billion in U.S. debt. It plays a significant role in financing the U.S. economy, and it has assumed a greater stake in a wider range of U.S. domestic policy than it ever has before. China has become increasingly concerned, for example, with the effect that health care reform legislation will have on the U.S. budget deficit. This is not to suggest that China can now dictate terms to the United States. But the economic and political realities have shifted such that the United States and China must now engage each other on more equal terms.

Obama's tour of Asia coincided with important developments on the other side of the United States, in Europe. In October, the European Union cleared the final hurdles toward ratifying the Lisbon Treaty (for more, see The Water's Edge, October 2009). Among the treaty's most important reforms was the creation of the posts of president of the European Council and of high representative for foreign and security policy (essentially an EU foreign minister). These positions could potentially strengthen the collective voice of the EU on the international stage. At a meeting of EU heads of government this month, Europe's leaders selected Belgian Prime Minister Herman Van Rompuy to be president of the European Council and EU Trade Commissioner Lady Ashton of the United Kingdom as the high representative for foreign and security policy. By all accounts, these were sound selections. But neither individual has the stature of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, who was rumored to be in the running for the Council presidency. By selecting such obscure personalities to fill these new positions, the leaders of the EU's individual member states took a deliberately cautious approach. Instead of taking advantage of the Lisbon Treaty to create a stronger international presence for the EU, Europe's leaders sought to prolong the status quo, in which foreign policy is largely directed from the 27 national capitals of the separate EU member states. In other words, serious change was deferred.

That Obama's trip to Asia overlapped with the EU's selection of new leaders was purely coincidental. But it underscored the shifting orientation of U.S. foreign policy. Where Asia presented a series of genuine challenges to a once pre-eminent United States, Europe deferred action that would have seriously increased its global stature. This is not to say that Europe will become any less important to U.S. interests or to suggest that any other issue (such as terrorism) will fade from the U.S. agenda. Nor is the shift of attention entirely due to any conscious decision, by Obama or anyone else. Instead, geographical and political reality has coincided with the term of a new U.S. president who is eager to conduct foreign policy in a fundamentally different manner than his predecessor. Compared to the historical emphasis placed on Europe, the relative importance of Asia for both U.S. domestic and foreign policy is increasing at a dramatic rate. Meanwhile, during George Bush's presidency, many Asian leaders felt ignored by a United States preoccupied with foreign wars. During his tour of the region, Obama hoped to send the message that “the United States is back.” This is the clearest indication yet that U.S. foreign policy will become increasingly oriented toward Asia, during Obama's presidency and beyond.

Foreign Policy Association, 3 December 2009

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

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

Japan’s export-oriented economy could not escape the crisis, however. Even prior to the collapse of Lehman Brothers, Japan’s economy had been shrinking, and the value of its exports had declined. By late 2008, Japan officially slipped into recession, and in early 2009, it experienced its first current account deficit in 13 years, as global demand plummeted. Under Prime Minister Taro Aso, Japan responded with debt-financed stimulus packages totaling $270 billon, or approximately 5 percent of the country’s gross domestic product. Unlike Japan’s failed stimulus efforts in the “lost decade” of the 1990s, these packages did not finance bloated and unnecessary infrastructure projects. Instead, they focused on providing services to laid-off workers and on investing in green energy projects. Many economists, however, feared that these efforts had come too late to be truly effective.

At this week’s G20 Summit in Pittsburgh, Japan is represented by a new prime minister. Yukio Hatoyama and his Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) won a resounding electoral victory last month, sweeping away the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and its nearly 55-year grip on power. Although he expressed generic disapproval with “American-style free-market economics” during the election campaign, Hatoyama’s economic policies differed little from Taro Aso’s. Instead, the DPJ campaign waged war on Japan’s underlying political structure. Hatoyama called for wholesale reforms of the bureaucratic machinery that had sustained the LDP’s longevity.

Achieving these structural reforms would be a tall order even in a solid economic climate. Today, they must compete with Japan’s pressing economic needs and its obligations to the global financial system. Hatoyama is something of an unknown quantity, especially on the diplomatic stage, and the G20 meeting represents his first international summit since taking office. Hatoyama will be closely watched by his fellow heads of government, as will his actions in the coming months. How he reconciles his desire for structural reform in Japan with the global imperative for economic crisis management is an open question. It is unclear yet if Hatoyama has an adequate answer.

The Asia Foundation, 23 September 2009

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