In a new introduction to his classic novel, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, John le Carré evokes memories of the early days of the era that came to be known as the Cold War, when he served in the intelligence service at the British Embassy in West Germany, located in what was then the capital city of Bonn. As the wall separating East and West was being erected in Berlin there was no real sense of a transition from the “hot” war that had ended in 1945 to the new “cold” one, he recalls. Instead, World War II was seen in retrospect as a distraction. “Now that it was over, they could get on with the real war that had started with the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917 and had been running under different flags and disguises ever since,” writes le Carré.
From the perspective of Harvard University Professor Odd Arne Westad, who was a boy in Norway in the 1960s when le Carré was stationed in the British Embassy in Bonn, it was indeed the Cold War—and not the Second World War—that defined the political history and the intellectual zeitgeist of the 20th century and that shaped the evolution of its international system. As Westad reminds us, the term “cold war” was coined by George Orwell in 1945 to denote the capitalist-socialist antagonisms between the United States and the USSR after the defeat of Nazi Germany.
Westad goes beyond that characterization and contends that the Cold War was an ideological clash between socialism and capitalism that was born from the global economic, social, and technological transformations of the late 19th century—peaking between 1945 and 1989 against the backdrop of the geostrategic confrontation between the world’s two superpowers and the rise of a bipolar international system. Then in the late 20th century, in response to the global economic, social, and technological transformations of that period, this grand ideological clash went through a process of slow decline and was finally met with sudden death, although its consequences can still be with us, according to Westad.
Thus does Westad place the Cold War into a hundred-year perspective that subsumes other seminal events of the last century, including World War II, into a rather neat framework. There is something intellectually and emotionally disorienting about this. At times it seems that the author is relegating Auschwitz and Hiroshima into historical footnotes and treating Adolf Hitler as an extra, not as one of the star villains, in his grand epic. Indeed, the way Westad integrates World War II into his historical narrative flies in the face of the common storyline we are familiar with: that it was a conflict between freedom and oppression, between the values of the liberal West and those of its ideological foes, the two military dictatorships of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.
But, if the global ideological conflict during the hundred years from the 1890s to the 1990s was between socialism (Westad uses that term interchangeably with communism) and capitalism, World War II had very little to do with that grand struggle. It was strictly about defeating German and Japanese expansionism in Europe and Asia. As you read about how the United States and the USSR made their diplomatic and military moves in that very hot war—such as the American development of the atomic bomb or the Soviet response to the 1944 Warsaw uprising—you get the impression that those occupying the White House and the Kremlin were more concerned about how their policies would play in Moscow and Washington than about how they would affect the dictators in Berlin and Tokyo.
In Westad’s narrative, the United States and the USSR were “accidental allies” in a global war brought on by their mutual enemies. It was a shotgun marriage shaped by their immediate needs and not an alliance based on long-term cooperation aimed at advancing common causes—like, for example, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization over the past half century. According to this script, our hero could have had a one-night stand with the socialist behemoth, but he could only marry a member of the capitalist tribe.
Westad does not speculate about what would have happened if Japan had not attacked the United States and Russia had not invaded Germany, and his socialism vs. capitalism narrative does not seem to hold when one considers that Hitler’s policies were driven by his fierce anti-communism (which also identified Judaism with Bolshevism), and yet a fierce anti-communist leader such as Winston Churchill would not consider allying his country with Nazi Germany in a common struggle against the Soviet Union. At the same time, the notion that the great confrontation between the socialist bloc and the capitalist nations was inevitable may explain why U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt’s hopes of cooperating with the Soviet Union in a new international order of peace, freedom, and human rights proved to be a mere fantasy.
In a way, what makes The Cold War: A World History such an original work and absorbing mind teaser is its challenge to the way we think about the not-so-distant past, taking a hundred-year perspective that, for example, does not view the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 as a defining event of the Cold War but as a diplomatic interlude that helped avert a direct military confrontation between the Soviets and the Americans. After all, why read a 720-page book that chronicles the history of a period that is quite familiar to most of us? Is there really anything more that can be said or written about, say, the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis?
Probably not. And Westad doesn’t provide much new information about that crisis. But he places it in the context of his grand narrative, suggesting that in the global struggle between socialism and capitalism, the Soviet Union, the carrier of the socialist torch, lost the most in that tense standoff. According to Westad, Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev “believed that Communism was on the up worldwide, and that his historic role was to steer the Soviet Union through a period in which, through the laws of history itself, the global balance of forces tipped in its direction.” But he also knew that a nuclear war would destroy that historical achievement, and hence he had to back down because “he wanted to celebrate the triumph of Communism, not eulogize at its funeral pyre.”
There is a lot of Hegel and a certain amount of historical determinism in Westad’s approach. Reality is capable of being expressed in rational categories, and the great puppeteer of history forces us to play our predictable role in his show. In this view the social and economic upheavals that left Europe unhinged at the end of the 19th century made it inevitable that socialism and capitalism would clash and in the process transform not only European politics but the entire international system.
To paraphrase the title of Luigi Pirandello’s famous play, Six Characters in Search of an Author, two ideologies were in search of respective political powers that would promote them. They found them in the rising United States and the new Bolshevik Russia, both being transformed into supercharged empires with powerfully felt international missions. And this occurred just as the ideological divide between capitalism and socialism was being sharpened.
The two empires evolved as part of an epoch of European predominance, embracing concepts of modernity, including the expectation that the European Enlightenment project could and should spread worldwide. But they parted ways when it came to defining that project.
The notion of a civil war that had engulfed Europe following the French Revolution, giving rise to competing ideologies and political movements, is not original. That civil war lasted 200 years, from 1789 to 1989, when another Hegelian political philosopher informed the world that history had come to an end (a pronouncement that Francis Fukuyama would have to dial back significantly as events engulfed it). Similarly, several astute observers of international relations had predicted at the end of the 19th century and the early 20th century that the United States would emerge as one of the world’s two leading powers and warned that a confrontation between the American sea power and the Russian land power would take place sooner or later. In some respects, that competition may be ongoing.
Yet there is something contrived in Westad’s suggestion that power and ideology were destined to merge and drive this global conflict, with American liberal internationalist Woodrow Wilson adhering to the belief that it was the mission of the United States to set the world right; and the Russian Communist Vladimir Illich Ulyanov, or Lenin, intent on employing his nation’s power to spread the Marxist gospel worldwide. According to this view, these competing messianic impulses created the conditions for the ensuing Cold War.
But there was nothing inevitable about the United States intervening in the Great War on the side of the Entente Powers or about the Bolshevik takeover of Russia, and, as Westad himself points out, American and Russian involvement in World War II came in response to Japanese and German aggression that threatened their respective core interests. At the same time, neither capitalism nor socialism ever constituted a coherent ideology; nor were the political movements seeking to represent these principles ever in agreement on what capitalism or socialism actually stood for. Even today, major differences exist between so-called Anglo-Saxon capitalism and the German social-market model, or between Scandinavian-style socialism and the model embraced by France, not to mention the moribund Soviet one. And most of the contemporary economic systems tend to follow a mix of capitalist and socialist policies.
Westad recognizes these complexities and seems to lament the failure of the European social-democratic movements of the pre-World War II era to promote their ideological perspectives as an alternative to both America’s wild capitalism and communism. But by incorporating the Cold War into a hundred-year global ideological epic struggle, Westad designs a theoretical straightjacket that he then tries to escape as he chronicles the more nuanced history of the actual Cold War. As he points out, in many cases national interests, not ideologies, drove the policies of Washington and Moscow, not to mention those of their respective partners and other global players.
And when American and Soviet leaders became too fixated with ideological considerations, disasters tended to ensue, whether in Southeast Asia, the Middle East, or Latin America. Hence the Kennedy brothers’ obsession with the supposed threat of Fidel Castro to the advancement of capitalism in the hemisphere mirrored Khrushchev’s romanticizing of the Cuban leader as a successor to the Russian revolutionaries of 1917. This helped shape American and Soviet policies that almost led to a nuclear war between the two superpowers.
Imagine: A guerrilla fighter turned military dictator ruling over a Caribbean island—in a way, a nobody in the larger scheme of things—playing a leading role in a Cold War drama with the potential to destroy civilization. Historians and political scientists still debate whether Cuba’s Castro, Vietnam’s Ho, Yugoslavia’s Tito, or even China’s Mao were first and foremost leaders of nationalist movements or really in the main promoters of the communist ideology. There are no simple answers, but it seems that when American and Russian policymakers examined international developments through their ideological spectacles and regarded them as acts in the grand global battle between capitalism and socialism, the result most often was decisions that ultimately harmed their national interests.
The American intervention in Vietnam constitutes a prime example of that kind of strategic miscalculation by a great power that was determined to view what was taking place in Southeast Asia through the ideological prism of the Cold War despite clear evidence that Ho Chi Minh was defending the national legacy of Vietnam against outside incursions and wasn’t striving to expand the reach of communism in the region.
It isn’t difficult to spin many scenarios under which Washington could have made a pragmatic deal with Ho Chi Minh serving the long-term interests of both the United States and North Vietnam. Indeed, following the U.S. military withdrawal from the country, Communist Vietnam ended up going to war against Communist Cambodia, which eventually led to a military confrontation with Communist China, reflecting the national interests of these regional players. That also explains why Vietnam, still ruled by a communist regime, has been strengthening its ties with the United States as part of a strategy to contain the common challenge of Chinese expansionism.
Westad’s discussion of the Cold War competition in South Asia and the Middle East highlights the other side of American and Russian interventions in the Third World: governments and political movements masquerading as proponents of socialism or capitalism in hopes of drawing the two superpowers to their side. It would be a distortion to argue that Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser or India’s Indira Gandhi—or for that matter the Vietnamese, Egyptians, Brazilians, Saudis, Iranians, and Israelis—did not care about whether socialism or capitalism would become the dominant global force. But consideration of national interests and not ideological fervor explains why these and other Third World leaders and governments aligned themselves at one point or another with either Washington and Moscow or embraced the posture of “non-alignment.”
Indeed, after coming to power in the 1950s, Nasser hoped the United States would help advance his Arab nationalist agenda, but when that didn’t happen he sought support from the Soviets, which placed him in the position of a Moscow ally. But Moscow was never sure. The question of whether Nasser and other Arab nationalist leaders were genuinely committed to socialism preoccupied Soviet leaders, who commissioned numerous studies concluding that Arab societies were still in the bourgeoisie stage of political development but could reach the revolutionary promised land in the future.
But Nasser’s successor, Anwar Sadat, decided that Egypt’s national interests would best be served by switching to the American side in the Cold War and by adopting capitalist economic policies. Before changing Egypt’s foreign policy orientation, however, Sadat launched a military attack against Israel in 1973 that led to one of the most dangerous moments in the relationship between Egypt’s protector, the Soviet Union, and Israel’s ally, the United States. But it also created an opening for Washington to act as a diplomatic mediator between Egypt and Israel and to eventually ensure that Cairo would emerge as one of America’s leading partners in the region.
It therefore may not be surprising that the discussion of the Arab-Israeli conflict at the time was framed as an extension of the Cold War, with the assumption that when the superpower rivalry would come to an end Arabs and Israelis would probably make peace, as would Indians and Pakistanis, and Ethiopians and Somalis, and that international politics could be explained by treating these and other conflicts as subplots in the big epic of socialism vs. capitalism. But 25 years after the Cold War’s end, Arabs and Israelis are still fighting; tensions rise and fall between India and Pakistan, now nuclear powers, over Kashmir and other issues; and developments in the Horn of Africa, in the former Yugoslavia, in the former Soviet Union, and of course, in the Greater Middle East, have ignited new national, ethnic, sectarian, and tribal wars. Even expectations that the reunification of Germany and the creation of the European Union would help re-energize the Enlightenment project in the aftermath of the Cold War have failed to materialize.
Westad gives much credit to Mikhail Gorbachev for the end of the Cold War and criticizes the United States for failing to bolster the last Soviet leader’s effort to reform communism and making things worse by launching wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. But here he misses an important point: The bipolar nature of the international system during the Cold War (to which he devotes all of two pages), sustained by the threat of nuclear annihilation, helped maintain peace in Europe, ensured that hot wars such as those in Korea, Vietnam, and the Middle East would come to an end, while setting constraints on the ability of the superpower partners to draw those powers into new and dangerous regional conflicts.
In fact, that bipolar system, for all of its dangers and fears, engendered certain checks and balances on the use of military power by the Americans and the Soviets. The United States would have not invaded Iraq and promoted its Freedom Agenda in Libya and the rest of the Middle East if the Soviet Union were still around, providing protection for Saddam Hussein and its other satellites in the region. By way of illustration, compare the sense of chaos and anxiety that dominates the international system today with the kind of order and stability provided by the bipolar system. You don’t have to feel nostalgic about the Cold War to recognize what we are missing now.
Leon Hadar, a TAC contributing editor, writes regularly for National Interest Online, Asia Times, Haaretz, and Quillette.
Beltway pundits are constantly warning that President Trump, uneducated in Middle Eastern history as he is, is “abandoning” the U.S. “leadership” role in the region, thereby creating a strategic “vacuum.” This is providing an opportunity for other powers—France, for example—to pursue more activist diplomacy in the Levant and the Persian Gulf.
“Macron Embraces Mideast Role as U.S. Diplomacy Retreats,” screamed a recent headline in the New York Times. Its story reported that French President Emmanuel Macron has been “troubled” by Trump’s decision to move America’s embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Macron apparently helped facilitate a political deal in Lebanon, is positioning France to help shape the postwar policy in Syria, and may even be considering playing a role in Israeli-Palestinian negotiations.
One can appreciate why members of Washington’s foreign policy establishment are so worried about Russian military intervention in the Middle East, since, after all, the Soviet Union and communism are threatening core U.S. interests. Except that the Cold War ended in 1989, and today’s Russians were actually helping us fight the Islamic State in Syria. Whoops.
But isn’t France America’s oldest ally? The first foreign partner of the new United States, France provided military support during the American Revolutionary War. We fought on the same side during the Great War and helped liberate Paris during World War II. The U.S. has been France’s military and diplomatic ally since the Nazis fell, through the Cold War, and now into the recent campaign against terrorism.
And in a way, there’s nothing new about France’s involvement in the Middle East and North Africa, where after World War II it received a mandate to administer Syria, Lebanon, and Algeria, and ruled Algeria as a colony from 1839 to 1962. Indeed, if you look at the map, you would have to conclude that the Middle East is the “strategic backyard” of France in the same way that Mexico and Central America are ours.
The French economy, unlike the American one, is dependent on oil imports from the Middle East, and what happens in that region of the world affects directly its interests and those of its European neighbors.
The collapse of Iraq and Syria and the ensuing rise of Islamist radicalization has affected the Arab migrant populations in France and other European nations—and ignited acts of terrorism there. It’s also helped create a new flood of Muslim immigrants into France and the rest of Europe, resulting in a backlash of powerful anti-immigration forces that are transforming politics across the continent.
So instead of getting anxious over France’s efforts to help stabilize the Middle East, foreign policy elites should be asking why Paris and other European capitals haven’t taken more diplomatic and military actions to secure their interests in the region. After all, working to stabilize Iraq and Syria might be the most effective way to thwart the stream of immigration into Europe.
And if France wants to secure its access to the energy resources in the Persian Gulf, it might consider leading the governments of the European Union in mobilizing their combined military power to ensure that radical forces do not threaten the Arab oil-producing nations there.
So why aren’t the French doing more to protect their interests in the region? Why do they expect the U.S. to do the job for them? America wouldn’t have expected France to dispatch troops to help stabilize Mexico or secure French access to the oil resources in Venezuela.
We all know the answer to those and similar questions, and it has to do with the policies advanced by the foreign policy establishment since the end of the Cold War. Despite the disappearance of the Soviet threat, U.S. presidents—George Bush the elder, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama—have operated under the assumption that when considering interests and values, it is the obligation of the United States to secure the balance of power in the Middle East—and that America should maintain its hegemonic position in the region while simultaneously minimizing the role of the Europeans.
So instead of providing incentives to Europe to start shouldering military and economic costs, Washington continued to ensure that France and other European countries would free-ride on American power in the Middle East: we would bring order to the region, promote political and economic reform, prevent the occasional crisis from turning into a full-blown war, and keep the Israeli-Palestinian peace process alive.
We were in the driver’s seat. All the Europeans had to do was change the oil and check the tires.
But since the end of the Cold War, such an approach has not only harmed U.S. interests and destabilized the Middle East; it’s proven incompatible with French and European interests as well. This is what Macron may be recognizing now.
The French president is hardly suggesting that France or the EU replace the U.S. as the leading power in the Middle East. Instead, worried about the devastating effects that could be had by an explosive military conflict between Saudi Arabia and Iran, and the continuing Israeli-Palestinian conflict, he has made a few diplomatic moves to help bring stability to Lebanon and Syria, a traditional arena of French influence.
Still, the Europeans have yet to offer to put boots on the ground to help secure a diplomatic solution in Syria or Israel/Palestine. And despite the work they’ve done on the Iran deal, they’ve failed to come up with a coherent plan to deal with long-term concerns over Tehran’s nuclear military program.
The danger of this approach—continuing to rely on U.S. military power—was demonstrated when the Obama administration agreed to back a French-British plan to oust Libya’s Moammar Gaddafi without any guarantee that the Europeans would send troops to establish order in Libya after regime change. The result has been chaos across Libya.
The French are at least trying to supplement American diplomacy in the region—and this should be regarded as a good start. Now let them work to restrain Iranian influence in the Levant or try to handle a few rounds of the Israeli-Palestinian peace process.
Indeed, until recently, the Europeans could free-ride on American diplomacy and then criticize Washington if, say, the Arab-Israeli talks collapsed or yet another crisis erupted in the Middle East. Now Washington has an opportunity to turn the tables, to let the French give diplomacy a try and weather the criticism if it fails. Or perhaps they may actually succeed. Quelle horreur indeed.
Leon Hadar is a foreign policy analyst, author, and contributing editor at The American Conservative. He holds a Ph.D. from American University, and is the author of the books Quagmire: America in the Middle East and Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East. He is a senior analyst with Wikistrat, a geo-strategic consulting firm, a former Cato Institute research fellow, and his articles have appeared in the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Washington Times, the Los Angeles Times, Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and the National Interest.
During the Cold War, it became an article of faith among Western policymakers and journalists: One of the most effective ways to discredit the leaders of Communist countries would be to provide their citizens with information from the West. It was a view that was shared by Soviet Bloc regimes who were worried that listening to the Voice of America (VOA) or watching Western television shows would induce their people to take political action against the rulers.
So it was not surprising that government officials in East Germany, anxious that many TV stations from West Germany could be viewed by their citizens, employed numerous means—such as jamming the airwaves and even damaging TV antennas that were pointing west—in order to prevent the so-called “subversive” western broadcasts from reaching audiences over the wall.
After the Berlin Wall collapsed in 1989, communication researchers studying public attitudes in former East German areas assumed that they would discover that those who had access to West German television—and were therefore exposed to the West’s political freedom and economic prosperity—were more politically energized and willing to challenge the communist regime than those who couldn’t watch Western television.
But as Evgeny Morozov recalled in his Net Delusion: The Dark Side of Internet Freedom, a study conducted between 1966 and 1990 about incipient protests in the so-called “Valley of the Clueless”—an area in East Germany where the government successfully blocked Western television signals—raised questions about this conventional wisdom.
As it turns out, having access to West German television actually made life in East Germany more endurable. Far from radicalizing its citizens, it seemed to have made them more politically compliant. As one East German dissident quoted by Morozov lamented, “The whole people could leave the country and move to the West as a man at 8pm, via television.”
Meanwhile, East German citizens who did not have access to Western German television were actually more critical of their regime, and more politically restless.
The study concluded that “in an ironic twist for Marxism, capitalist television seems to have performed the same narcotizing function in communist East Germany that Karl Marx had attributed to religious beliefs in capitalist society when he condemned religion as the ‘opium of the people.’”
Morozov refers to the results of these and other studies to raise an interesting idea: Western politicians and pundits have predicted that the rise of the Internet, which provides free access to information to residents of the global village, would galvanize citizens in Russia and other countries to challenge their authoritarian regimes. In reality, Morozov contends that exposure to the Internet may have distracted Russian users from their political problems. The young men who should be leading the revolution are instead staying at home and watching online pornography. Trotsky, as we know, didn’t tweet.
Yet the assumption that the content of the message is a “silver bullet shot from a media gun to penetrate a hapless audience,” as communication theorists James Arthur Anderson and Timothy P. Meyer put it, remains popular among politicians and pundits today, despite ample evidence to the contrary.
Hence the common assertion that a presidential candidate who has raised a lots of money and can spend it on buying a lots of television commercials, has a clear advantage over rivals who cannot afford to dominate the media environment. But the loser in the 2016 presidential race spent about $141.7 million on ads, compared with $58.8 million for winner’s campaign, according to NBC News. Candidate Trump also spent a fraction of what his Republican rivals had during the Republican primaries that he won.
Communication researchers like Anderson and Meyers are not suggesting that media messages don’t have any effect on target audiences, but that it is quite difficult to sell ice to Eskimos. To put it in simple terms, media audiences are not hapless and passive. Although you can flood them with messages that are in line with your views and interests, audiences actively participate in the communication process. They will construct their own meaning from the content they consume, and in some cases they might actually disregard your message.
Imagine a multi-billionaire who decides to produce thousands of commercials celebrating the legacy of ISIS, runs them on primetime American television, and floods social media with messages praising the murderous terrorist group. If that happened, would Americans be rallying behind the flag of ISIS? One can imagine that the response from audiences would range from anger to dismissal to laughter.
In 2013 Al Jazeera Media Network purchased Current TV, which was once partially owned by former U.S. Vice President Al Gore, and launched an American news channel. Critics expressed concerns that the network, which is owned by the government of Qatar and has been critical of U.S. policies in the Middle East, would try to manipulate American audiences with their anti-Washington message.
Three years later, after hiring many star journalists and producing mostly straight news shows, Al Jazeera America CEO Al Anstey announced that the network would cease operations. Anstey cited the “economic landscape” which was another way of saying that its ratings were distressingly low. The relatively small number of viewers who watched Al Jazeera America’s programs considered them not anti-American but just, well, boring.
You don’t have to be a marketing genius to figure out that in the age of the 24/7 media environment, foreign networks face prohibitive competition from American cable news networks like CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, social media, not to mention Netflix and yes, those online porno sites. Thus the chances that a foreign news organization would be able to attract large American audiences, and have any serious impact on their political views, remain very low.
That, indeed, has been the experience of not only the defunct Al Jazeera America, but also of other foreign news outlets that have tried to imitate the Qatar-based network by launching operations targeting American audiences. These networks have included CGTN (China Global Television Network), the English-language news channel run by Chinese state broadcaster China Central Television; PressTV, a 24-hour English language news and documentary network affiliated with Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting; or RT (formerly Russia Today), a Russian international television network funded by the Russian government that operates cable and satellite television channels directed to audiences outside of Russia.
After all, unless you are getting to paid to watch CTGN, PressTV, or RT—or you are a news junkie with a lot of time on your hands—why in the world would you be spending even one hour of the day watching these foreign networks?
Yet if you have been following the coverage and public debate over the alleged Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election, you get the impression that RT and another Russian media outlet, Sputnik (a news agency and radio broadcast service established by the Russian government-controlled news agency Rossiya Segodnya), were central players in a conspiracy between the Trump presidential campaign and the Kremlin to deny the presidency to Hillary Clinton.
In fact, more than half of the much-cited January report on the Russian electoral interference released by U.S. intelligence agencies was devoted to warning of RT’s growing influence in the United States and across the world, referring to the “rapid expansion” of the network’s operations and budget to about $300 million a year, and citing the supposedly impressive audience numbers listed on the RT website.
According to America’s spooks, the coordinated activities of RT and the online-media properties and social-media accounts that made up “Russia’s state-run propaganda machine” have been employed by the Russian government to “undermine the U.S.-led liberal democratic order.”
And in a long cover story in The New York Times Magazine this month, with the headline, “RT, Sputnik and Russia’s New Theory of War,” Jim Rutenberg suggested that the Kremlin has “built one of the most powerful information weapons of the 21st century” and that it “may be impossible to stop.”
But as the British Economist magazine reported early this year, while RT claims to reach 550 million people worldwide, with America and Britain supposedly being its most successful markets, its “audience” of 550 million refers to “the number of people who can access its channel, not those who actually watch it.”
As the The Economist notes, a 2015 survey of the top 94 cable channels in America by the research firm Nielsen found that RT did not even make it into the rankings, capturing only 0.04 percent of viewers, according to the Broadcast Audience Research Board.
The Times’s Rutenberg argues that the RT’s ratings “are almost beside the point.” RT might not have amassed an audience that remotely rivals CNN’s in conventional terms, “but in the new, ‘democratized’ media landscape, it doesn’t need to” since “the network has come to form the hub of a new kind of state media operation: one that travels through the same diffuse online channels, chasing the same viral hits and memes, as the rest of the Twitter-and-Facebook-age media.”
Traveling “through the same diffuse online channels” and “chasing the same viral hits and memes” sounds quite impressive. Indeed, RT has claimed dominance on YouTube, an assertion that apparently caught the attention of the U.S. intelligence community, which noted that RT videos get 1 million views a day, far surpassing other outlets.
But as The Economist points out, when it comes to Twitter and Facebook, RT’s reach is narrower than that of other news networks. Its claim of YouTube success is mostly down to the network’s practice of buying the rights to sensational footage—for instance, Japan’s 2011 tsunami—and repackaging it with the company logo. It’s not clear, however, how the dissemination of a footage of a natural disaster or of a dog playing the piano helps efforts to “undermine the U.S.-led liberal democratic order.”
It is obvious that the Russian leaders have been investing a lot of resources in RT, Sputnik, and other media outlets, and that they employ them as propaganda tools aimed at promoting their government’s viewpoints and interests around the world. From that perspective, these Russian media executives are heirs to the communist officials who had been in charge of the propaganda empire of the Soviet Union and its satellites during much of the 20th Century.
The worldwide communist propaganda machine did prove to be quite effective during the Great Depression and World War II, when it succeeded in tapping into the economic and social anxieties and anti-Nazi sentiments in the West and helped strengthen the power of the communist parties in Europe and, to some extent, in the United States.
But in the same way that Western German television programs failed to politically energize East Germans during the Cold War, much of the Soviet propaganda distributed by the Soviet Union at that time had very little impact on the American public and its political attitudes, as symbolized by the shrinking membership of the American Communist Party.
Or as media-effects theorists explain the communication process, the intentions of the producer (Soviet Union) and the conventions of the content (communist propaganda) were interwoven in a strategy aimed at influencing the receiver (the American audience). But the majority of Americans, with the exception of a few hard-core ideologues, interpreted the content of the message as pitiful Soviet propaganda, assuming they even paid attention to it.
Soviet propaganda may have scored limited success during the Cold War when it came to members of the large communist parties in France, Italy, and Japan, as well as exploited anti-American sentiments in some third-world countries. In these cases, the intentions of the producer and the convention of the message seemed to be in line with the interpretations of the receivers.
There is no doubt that Moscow, which regarded President Harry Truman as its leading American political nemesis, was hoping that Progressive presidential candidate Henry Wallace would win the 1948 election—and had tailored its propaganda effort in accordance with that goal. That pro-Wallace campaign took place at a time when the American Communist Party still maintained some influence in the United States, where many Americans still sympathized with the former World War II ally and a large number of Soviet spies were operating in the country. But then Wallace’s Progressives ended up winning 2.5 percent of the vote, less than Strom Thurmond’s Southern segregationist ticket.
Yet we are supposed to believe that by employing RT, Sputnik, Facebook, Twitter, and a bunch of hackers, the Russians could help their American candidate “steal” the 2016 presidential election. Is there any evidence that those white blue-collar workers and rural voters in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan—the people who provided Trump with his margin of victory—were even exposed to the reports distributed by RT and Sputnik, or by the memes constructed by Russian trolls or their posts on Facebook? (“Hey, did you watch RT last night?”)
Yet the assertion that a “silver bullet shot from a media gun” in the form of Russian propaganda was able “to penetrate a hapless audience” in the United States has been gaining more adherents in Washington and elsewhere. This conspiracy seems to correlate the intent of the Russian government and the content of their messages with the voting behavior of Americans.
In a strange irony, those who are promoting this fallacious assertion may—unlike their Russian scapegoat—actually succeed in penetrating a hapless American audience.
Leon Hadar is a foreign policy analyst, author, and contributing editor at The American Conservative. He holds a Ph.D. from American University, and is the author of the books Quagmire: America in the Middle East and Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East. He is a senior analyst with Wikistrat, a geo-strategic consulting firm, a former Cato Institute research fellow, and his articles have appeared in the New York Times, The Washington Post, Washington Times, The Los Angeles Times, Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and the National Interest.
Literary analysts and historians use the term “presentism” to refer to an intellectual exercise that uses interpretations of past history to validate contemporary political ideas and perspectives.
Seeing the past through our existing lenses carries the risk that we will view historical developments as a prelude to what is taking place now. The so-called “Whig history,” for example, presents Western history as an inevitable progression towards enlightenment, political liberty, religious freedom, and women’s rights, with liberal democracy being the culmination of this process.
There seems to be an element of this kind of presentism in the way that many liberal pundits today discuss what they see as the growing power of nationalism. There is particular alarm about the pushback against free trade and open immigration reflected in the rise of Trumpism in the United States as well as the electoral successes of right-wing political movements in Europe and elsewhere.
This critique tends to embrace the notion that these new nationalist forces are challenging the so-called post-war international order. It resembles the Whig interpretation of history in suggesting that the founders of post-1945 security and economic institutions—acting in the aftermath of the defeat of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and Imperial Japan—set out to transform the traditional international system that had come out of the 1648 Peace of Westphalia. That old system was based on the principle of sovereignty and the right and obligation of national governments to pursue independent policies that would protect their national security and grow their economies.
Such presentist history assumes that the leaders of the victorious World War II powers, who created institutions such as the United Nations (UN), the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), were the forerunners of today’s globalists. It suggests that the founders of these organizations of were idealist and internationalist statesmen committed to the principles of open markets, the free flow of people across borders, and the construction of supranational organizations that would erode the power of the nation-state.
Based on this interpretation, one could make the argument that what mostly worried U.S. Presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry Truman, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, French leader Charles de Gaulle, and their respective aides was the possible resurgence of nationalism in its various forms—including protectionism, nativism, and racism. These of course are seen by today’s globalists as the main threat to international peace and stability.
If you buy into this historical analysis, then it is easy to see President Trump in a certain light. He has challenged the notion that the nation-state will and should disappear sooner than later; demanded that the U.S. government take steps to protect its national sovereignty and economic interests by placing restrictions on immigration; pursued a national economic strategy; and questioned whether the commitment to antiquated multilateral security and economic institutions serves the U.S. national interest. From this viewpoint, it seems that Trump is violating the internationalist spirit that motivated the likes of Truman or Churchill and attempting to destroy the liberal international order they created.
There is an almost manic onslaught against “nationalism” launched by today’s proponents of globalism, who advocate increases in immigration, free trade, the lowering of tariffs, military interventionism in the name of protecting human rights, and the many forms of global governance that evolved after the end of the Cold War and China’s entry into the global economy. Meanwhile, there is little mention of the notion that the international order should provide governments with the power to protect their nation’s sovereignty.
Much of this flawed analysis has been integrated into an idealized history of World War II, which sometimes creates the impression that the United States entered into the war as part of an international liberal crusade (and in order to liberate the Nazi concentration camps). Yet this ignores the fact that the U.S. was responding to an attack on the homeland by Japan, and disregards the inconvenient truth that Americans allied with the one leading world dictatorship, the Soviet Union, in order to defeat the other one, Nazi Germany.
At the same time, the post-World War II international arrangements involved the United States and the Soviet Union dividing Europe into spheres of influence; the establishment of an international security organization, the UN, where the great powers maintained veto power through the Security Council; and the formation of two military alliances, NATO and the Warsaw Pact, to maintain this new balance of power. All of this had more to do with protecting strategic interests than with advancing an international liberal agenda.
Ironically, much of what the UN engaged in during the first two decades of its existence had to do with the destruction of the most powerful supranational institutions of the time, the Western imperial systems, while supporting national movements in the Third World in achieving their goal of creating new nation-states.
Similarly, the initial steps taken to foster cooperation in Western Europe was part of an effort to encourage economic collaboration between nation-states—and diffuse the tensions between the two most powerful states by forming a Franco-German duopoly.
More importantly, contrary to the presentist history embraced by the globalists, the main lesson of the political and economic developments that led to World War II, a military conflagration that destroyed many national economies, was not the need to celebrate free trade as a universal principle. There was a consensus that promoting international trade could increase economic prosperity under certain conditions. But as political scientist John Ruggie pointed out, the new order was based on the assumption that governments needed the capacity to intervene to ensure equitable allocation of economic gains. In practice, this meant providing workers with social protections against inequalities and excesses of the market. Similarly, the IMF was created in order to help governments manage balance of payments difficulties that had the potential to develop into financial crises.
Indeed, the focus of the post-war project was to strengthen and not to weaken national governments in pursuing liberal-democratic principles along the lines of the welfare state, while preventing domestic economic and political problems that could ignite economic downturns and political disorder of the kind that engulfed Germany’s Weimar Republic and other European nations in the 1930s.
As the leading Western military and economic power and a global superpower, it was in the interest of the United States to help create and sustain this international project. Covering the costs of doing that, even if that meant subsidizing military allies and treating unfair trade practices with benign neglect, was consistent with the national interest and helped expand the U.S. economy and raise its citizens’ living standards.
From that perspective, what is being described as the rise of nationalism in the West reflects sentiments among citizens that their governments and elites should return to the original strategy of the post-war project, which included a good deal of economic nationalism and restraint in the use of military power. This reaction basically summarizes what Trumpism is all about.
Communist-party intellectual Nikolai Bukharin is recalled today for his 1920s plea to Soviet leaders to move away from the Marxist position that socialism must be established globally. Bukharin argued that the Soviet Union should strengthen itself domestically and turn toward national communism. It was called “Communism in One Country.”
In the aftermath of the expensive Cold War, Western countries had a chance to consolidate liberal democracy at home, rebuild their economies, and reassess global commitments. But the political and intellectual classes in the United States and Europe, backed by government technocrats and business executives, adopted globalism as the new governing policy. They are now facing pressures from voters to switch gears and focus on the nation-state as the primary tool for achieving political legitimacy and growing the economy—in other words, to commit themselves to the principle of “Liberal Democracy in One Country.”
Leon Hadar is a senior analyst with Wikistrat, a geo-strategic consulting firm, and teaches international relations at the University of Maryland, College Park.
It was said on the eve of the American Civil War that Southerners and Northerners shared the same country and believed in the same God but were dreaming different dreams. Citizens of Beszel and Ul Qoma, the two cities imagined by the British author China Miéville in his 2009 novel The City & The City, don’t just dream different dreams.
While the cities occupy the same geographic space, their residents speak different languages, use distinct alphabets, embrace divergent cultures, and even look and behave differently. They walk alongside each other on the sidewalks and drive inches apart on the roads, but they are able to “unsee” each other, a skill they learn from an early age.
A resident of Beszel or Ul Qoma sees only the planes belonging to his city’s airline leaving from and arriving at the airport. Indeed, while there is only one physical airport, residents believe there is a separate airport for each city, a phenomenon that also occurs with international dialing codes and internet links. Police officers are not allowed to investigate crimes committed in the other city. And if a resident travels from one city to another, he ends up standing up in the exact place where he started, but able to see the other city.
Miéville’s novel is probably meant to be an allegory about the kind of inter-communal strife that engulfed parts of the moribund Soviet bloc, including the former Yugoslavia, where ethnic and religious groups that shared a common national identity ended up competing for control of the territory. The result in many cases was that peaceful coexistence gave way either to a violent separation, as in Bosnia, or to a peaceful divorce, like the one between Czechs and Slovakians.
In some cases, the result took the form of never-ending conflicts between the rival communities, such as between Armenians and Azeris over the control of Nagorno-Karabakh. These struggles joined a long list of similar conflicts elsewhere: Jews vs. Arabs in Israel/Palestine, for instance, or Greeks vs. Turks in Cyprus.
Beszel and Ul Qoma are especially comparable to Israel and Palestine, two states that occupy the same territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea and share the same capital city, Israel’s Jerusalem and Palestine’s al-Quds. But in Miéville’s version, instead of continuing to fight over the space, the two groups would simply live together while ignoring each other.
Arab Jaffa would not exist in Israel, while Tel-Aviv would disappear from Palestine. In Al Quds, the Arabs would congregate at the al-Aqsa Mosque on the Haram esh-Sharif, known to Israeli Jews as the Temple Mount. There the Jews would visit the Western Wall and prepare to build the new Third Temple on the same area where al-Aqsa used to stand, but that now exists only in Al Quds. Israel and Palestine would have one common security challenge: preventing the residents of one state from breaching the barrier that is separating them from the residents of the other state, ensuring that Jews do not see any Arabs and Arabs do not encounter any Jews.
Unfortunately, all of this happens in a fictional novel. In the real world, Arabs and Jews have to see each other. And the choice is between a one-state solution where Arabs and Jews would coexist peacefully in one state, a formula that has been rejected by both sides, and a two-state solution, under which the territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea is divided into two separate states, Israel with its Jewish majority and an Arab Palestine next to it.
In fact, one of the reasons there is so much opposition to the establishment of more Jewish settlements in the occupied Arab West Bank—or Judea and Samaria, as the Jews call the area—is that that would eventually create a reality of intermingling Arab and Jewish populations, making it more difficult to establish a separate Palestine and creating a new reality of an Israel/Palestine, where Jews and Arabs would have no choice but to see each other.
Reading The City & The City in the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election, one imagines that many Americans would like to unsee those from other political communities. For all practical purposes, this may have already happened: most residents of Washington, DC; Manhattan; Marin County, Calif.; and Cambridge, Mass., didn’t know anyone who had voted for Donald Trump. West Virginians couldn’t have imagined someone casting a ballot for Hillary Clinton.
The writers of Saturday Night Live imagined something along these lines in a post-election skit, “The Bubble.” The Bubble is a place where Trump didn’t win the election, where “life can continue for progressive Americans just as before.” It is “a community of like-minded free thinkers … and no one else,” where hybrid cars, used-book stores, and “small farms with the rawest milk you’ve ever tasted” dominate.
Indeed, the observation that America is now split—between the liberal, secular, overeducated, cosmopolitan, pro-free-trade urban bicoastals who read the New York Times and voted for Hillary Clinton, and the conservative, traditional, high-school-educated, nationalist, protectionist rural residents of Flyover Country who watch Fox News and cast their ballots for Donald Trump—has become somewhat of a cliché.
There is certainly an element of a caricature in this narrative of effeminate Ivy Leaguers who shop at Whole Foods and cannot stand “real” Americans vs. racist, boorish, theocratic folks who gravitate to authoritarian figures and hate science. But as with every caricature, there is probably some element of truth in the notion of the Davos Man vs. the Middle American.
As a resident of Chevy Chase, Md., with its population of highly educated lawyers, economists, scientists, and media types, I have yet to encounter one Trump supporter in my neighborhood, where most residents looked as though as they were mourning a death in the family on November 9. Riding on a crowded elevator in my apartment building recently, I was interrogated by a loud neighbor who wanted to know if it was true that I voted for Trump. Before I had a chance to respond, those standing around started to distance themselves from me, and one young woman gave me a stare that seemed to say, “Even if you were the last male remaining alive on earth, I wouldn’t mate with you.” They all wanted to unsee me.
It’s not clear that these extreme sentiments are common outside the most politically homogenous enclaves. The caricature may be especially popular among intellectuals and activists who benefit from polarization, or would even prefer a real split that would allow them to expand their power and influence, where Democratic presidential nominees don’t need votes in Flyover Country and Fox News viewers don’t need to care what’s happening on MSNBC.
But even without a real separation, residents of one USA do not truly see the residents of the other. If Trump voters in the red states are all nativists and racists, how did Louisiana and South Carolina elect the children of Indian immigrants as their governors? And about that Davos Man: I know personally several Americans who took part in those meetings and can assure you that they don’t like artsy films, that they love the U.S. military, and that the only “cosmopolitan” thing about them is that they spend a lot of time in international airports.
Perhaps what we really don’t see is how similar we are. Trump won the election because he succeeded in getting the votes of white blue-collar workers, and the Democrats will continue carrying the African-American vote. But if one goes beyond the obvious electoral realities and studies the public’s attitudes on issues ranging from abortion and gun control to inequality and military intervention, the picture becomes more complex, and the ideological lines tend to crosshatch. We have not split into The USA & The USA quite yet.
Leon Hadar is a senior analyst with Wikistrat, a geo-strategic consulting firm, and teaches international relations at the University of Maryland, College Park.
We’re all familiar with “slippery slope” arguments. Allow Casual Fridays, and soon enough everyone will be coming to work in shorts and T-shirts. Ban assault weapons, and you’re on the road to repealing the Second Amendment.
In a way, the response of Western elites to the recent election reflects that kind of logic: as Donald Trump prepares to occupy the White House, we are about to see the collapse of the Western alliance and the breakdown of the post-World War II liberal international order. It’s the end of the West. We are closing the last chapter of the Age of Enlightenment.
But then, does anyone really believe that after four or eight years of a Trump presidency, the United Nations headquarters in Manhattan will turn into a new Trump Hotel (as recently proposed, tongue-in-cheek, by conservative columnist Charles Krauthammer)? Or that the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund will shut down their offices in downtown Washington, DC?
In reality, Trump has pledged to do little that’s earth-shattering. He won’t pursue the Trans-Pacific Partnership—the same commitment made by the liberal-internationalist Democratic candidate, Hillary Clinton. He’ll take another look at the North American Free Trade Agreement—a proposition supported by another liberal-internationalist Western leader, Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. He’ll embrace a tougher posture in trade negotiations with China—the same kind of approach President Clinton took when pursuing his trade dealings with Japan. He’s suggested that the ideas of “regime change” and “nation building” in the Middle East have created strategic disasters and humanitarian catastrophes—as almost everyone seems to believe these days.
And, yes, isn’t it time for Americans, the majority of whom weren’t even around when NATO was established in 1949 with the aim of containing the Soviet Bloc, to reassess the organization’s structure and goals? Or to consider that nationalist Russia isn’t the old Soviet Union and that improving relations with it makes sense on many levels—as both Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama have argued?
Are we on the slippery slope to smashing the international order, or are we debating pragmatic ideas that could lead to sensible changes?
In fact, contrary to the frenzied comments by policymakers and pundits in Washington and elsewhere, President-elect Trump has never challenged the proposition that the United States should continue to maintain its global primacy or the notion of liberalizing the international trade system. His nominee for the secretary-of-state job, former ExxonMobil CEO Rex Tillerson, asserted during his Senate confirmation hearing on Wednesday that “American leadership must be asserted.”
Trump hasn’t called for overturning the post-1945 liberal international order or for bringing U.S. global leadership to an end. His main criticisms have been directed at the policymakers in Washington, their allies in think tanks and the media, and the trade strategy that Washington has been following since China’s entry into the international economic system.
That is to say, President-elect Trump hasn’t been concentrating his fire on the legacies of Harry Truman and George Marshall, Dwight Eisenhower and John Foster Dulles, Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, or Ronald Reagan and George Shultz—those responsible for the Cold War policies that ended in an American victory and years of economic growth and prosperity. Rather, he has criticized Bill Clinton and Madeleine Albright, George W. Bush and Condoleezza Rice, and Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.
He’s hit them for mishandling the relationships with Russia and other great powers. For engaging in costly wars in the Middle East. For launching disastrous regime changes and nation-building operations. For failing to protect American interests in the context of an international system characterized by a changing global military and economic balance of power.
What Trump seems to want to do is to make Pax Americana more cost-effective in terms of U.S. interests.
Those interests seemed compatible with the role of the U.S. as the Primus inter pares of the Western alliance for much of the Cold War and its immediate aftermath; hence the willingness of U.S. policymakers to pay the costs of protecting its allies in the Atlantic and the Pacific and ensuring their economic prosperity. This entailed costly wars in the Middle East in order to safeguard European, Japanese, and Korean access to the energy resources in the region on which their economies—not the U.S economy—were dependent. Similarly, Washington could tolerate the industrial policies and the protectionist strategies pursued by, say, Japan and Germany while keeping its markets open to their exports. Those costs were acceptable for an American economy that kept growing and growing, expanding its industrial base as its prosperous middle class became more prosperous.
It would be interesting to sketch an alternative history of Washington in the 1990s and early 2000s, one where policymakers tried to readjust America’s post-Cold War policies to the changing international balance of power. This would have meant reassessing America’s strategic goals in light of the rising costs of continuing to single-handedly support a stable liberal international order.
Such a reassessment could have led to the restructuring of NATO, and to the shifting of more security responsibilities from the U.S. to its allies, especially when it came to protecting access to energy resources in the Middle East. Washington could have made it clear that, at a time when Japan and other industrial powers were becoming global economic competitors, the U.S. needed to rebalance its trade relationship with them. No more free riding.
That didn’t happen. Instead, what proved most powerful was inertia. If anything, Washington policymakers took advantage of the so-called Unipolar Moment to expand the global responsibilities of the U.S. by enlarging NATO to the borders of Russia, transforming the U.S. into the hegemonic power in the Middle East, and allowing allies to continue free-riding on American global military and economic power. They even embraced new diplomatic and military missions, like spreading democracy worldwide, in the name of lofty universal principles that seem to override basic concerns rooted in the national interest.
Ironically, when Washington’s policymakers and pundits decry the rise of isolationist and protectionist trends among Americans, they don’t point out the obvious: the policies they devised, implemented, and sold to the American people—in particular the costly wars in the Middle East coupled with a growing lists of trade deals—explain why the public is in a more inward-looking mood these days. These policies are why voters turned to two unlikely presidents—a former community organizer from Chicago whose middle name was “Hussein” and a reality-show host with no political experience—who questioned America’s interventionist approach in the Middle East as well as its trade policies. They hoped to deliver a blow to the political establishment and to reverse these policies.
To his credit, President Obama did resist pressure to interject American ground troops into the Syrian civil war—pressure from liberal internationalists and neoconservatives alike. Yet President Obama failed to translate these public sentiments into a new foreign-policy agenda that would maintain U.S. global leadership while serving U.S. interests. Instead, he seemed to be muddling through on issues of war and peace and trade, responding in an ad hoc and opportunistic manner to crises abroad: a half-pregnant foreign policy.
President-elect Trump has an opportunity to press for a meaningful, transformational global agenda. In other words, it’s not a concern over the future of the liberal international order that prompted a smear campaign against him, but a worry that he will undermine the interests of our reigning elites. He needs to demonstrate to them that their fears were justified.
Leon Hadar is a senior analyst with Wikistrat, a geo-strategic consulting firm, and teaches international relations at the University of Maryland, College Park.
It all started, as it does quite frequently these days, as a debate on Facebook, this one among a group of libertarians discussing the relationship between religion and state.
A friend posted a news story reporting that a halal supermarket—i.e., a supermarket selling only food and drinks that are permissible under Islamic law—in Paris has been ordered by local authorities to sell pork and alcohol (which are not halal) or face closure. Apparently older residents of the area had complained that they were no longer able to buy the full range of products that had been available under the store’s previous ownership.
“We want a social mix,” said the head of the municipality. “We don’t want any area that is only Muslim or any area where there are no Muslims.” He added that he would have reacted in the same way had a kosher supermarket opened on the site, and indicated that the authority was taking legal action to revoke the shop’s lease, which runs until 2019.
Members of the Facebook group seemed to agree that this was another example of the French tradition embodied in the nation’s constitutional requirement of laïcité, or the strict separation of state and religious activities. This is sometimes contrasted with the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution—which guarantees freedom of religion but doesn’t require the government to maintain secularism.
Notwithstanding a recent court ruling that a Denver bakery could not refuse to make a wedding cake for a gay couple, the general consensus among my Facebook friends was that what had taken place in Paris would never occur in the U.S. No federal, state, or local government would force a licensed halal supermarket to “diversify” the range of its products by adding alcohol and non-halal meats.
But as the group’s contrarian, I decided to challenge the evolving agreement among my friends. Aren’t we being perhaps a bit dogmatic when we elevate political principles above the lessons we draw from real-life experiences?
Are we going to allow members of a religious group that worships nude to show up unclothed in public places? Why is female circumcision wrong and male circumcision fine? And why not legalize polygamy, which has been around longer than same sex-marriage? You allow Muslims to have their own halal supermarkets based on commitment to freedom of religion. Why not allow Muslim men to marry several wives?
We could go on and on with this kind of debate, which should not be dismissed as one of those reductio ad absurdum exercises. After all, there are millions of Muslims worldwide who practice polygamy, which is in accordance with their religious law. So it was not surprising that a prominent Italian-Muslim leader proposed recently that polygamy must become a civil right in Italy similar to same-sex marriage, which the country allowed earlier this year. And why not? There are probably more Muslims than gays in Italy today.
“There’s no reason for Italy not to accept polygamous marriages of consenting persons,” proposed Hamza Piccardo, founder of the Union of Islamic Communities and Organizations, adding: “When it comes to civil rights here, then polygamy is a civil right. Muslims don’t agree with homosexual partnership and still they have to accept a system that allows it.”
In the West we seem to agree that female circumcision is cruel; we even refer to it as “female genital mutilation.” But it was estimated this year that 200 million women have undergone the procedure—in 27 countries in Africa, as well as in Indonesia, Iraqi Kurdistan, and Yemen. What happens if Muslims from these countries decide to settle in Europe in the coming years? Why are we going to deny them the right to practice their religion, even though all attempts to criminalize male circumcision, practiced by both Jews and Muslims, have failed? Why the double standard?
The answer is clear: the majority of Americans are members of the Abrahamic religions who regard, for instance, public nudity as running contrary to their core cultural values. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many pagans around, and unlike, say, gays, they don’t have a major influence in Hollywood and Broadway.
To put it simply, when it comes to freedom of religion and figuring out the exact boundaries between religion and state, numbers count. And as more Muslims settle in the West, and gain citizenship and the right of vote, the contours of the debate over religion and its place in society are bound to change.
We like to imagine that debates over core political issues are conducted by great philosophers who are committed to our sacred values. But in liberal democratic societies, the principle of one-man-one-vote carries a lot of influence in terms of how we define morality or, for that matter, what we recognize as a “legitimate” religious belief.
The debate over religion and state that evolved in the Christian West in the aftermath of devastating religious wars—and was applied to other societies with large Christian majorities, and with sprinklings of assimilated Jewish communities (completing our so-called Judeo-Christian civilization)—may have to change.
Members of a religion whose adherents don’t subscribe to the notion of religious freedom, who believe that religion and state cannot be separated, are beginning to challenge what we regard as the basic axioms of the Enlightenment. They are doing that by using their growing political power, and they are quite confident that they have the upper hand in the birth-rate battles that are transforming demographics worldwide.
During our above-mentioned Facebook debate, several of the Jewish discussants were horrified to learn that a French official might have the power to force a kosher butcher to sell pork. But the analogy between kosher butcher stores and halal supermarkets is misplaced.
The declining Jewish population of France, of around 500,000, consists mostly of secular Jews who have assimilated into French society, with many leading Jewish politicians and intellectuals celebrating France’s principles of secularism and state-religion separation. In fact, most French Jews aren’t likely to frequent kosher butcher shops, and with the exception of a small ultra-Orthodox community, they aren’t residing in neighborhoods with Jewish majorities.
On the other hand, France has the largest Muslim population in Europe, about 5 million, and it keeps growing as a result of emigration from the Middle East and high birth rates. And unlike modern Jews, most Muslims in France haven’t been going through a process of secularization and integration into French society. They probably wouldn’t understand what the terms “secularism” and “liberalism” mean, and if anything, under the influence of growing religious radicalization in the Muslim world, they have been embracing less tolerant and open forms of Islam in recent years.
According to the common liberal fantasy, the multicultural nature of Western societies allows these Muslims to have their cake and eat it too, to maintain their religious identity while integrating into the general population and becoming French or German or Swedish “like us.” Soon enough, the hijab-wearing woman will look like any other sexually liberated French woman.
In reality, Muslim immigrants take advantage of multiculturalism to maintain their religious identity while resisting pressure to assimilate into French society. Parisians hope that the Muslims congregating in their neighborhoods will eventually leave their ghettos, like Jews did after being granted civil rights following the French Revolution. A few halal stores might remain, but the majority of Muslims will shop in the general supermarket.
Most Muslims are not following this liberal game plan. With their growing population, they are spreading into new parts of the cities. They will become the majority in more and more neighborhoods in Paris, where new mosques will be built and where more women will be wearing hijabs. And one day, the only option for France’s aging Christian population will be to shop at the local halal supermarket.
If you think this is a farfetched nightmare scenario concocted by an Islamophobic mind, consider the way that members of the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community or Haredi in Israel have been winning the demographic wars, strengthening their political power, and gradually transforming their secular country.
The ultra-Orthodox Jews, who still dress like it’s 1815 in Eastern Europe, adhere to rigorous religious laws, including strict separation between men and women, and shun any form of modern education, including basic prerequisites of math, science, and language.
They constituted a tiny minority of 30,000 when Israel was established in 1948, residing in a few small neighborhoods in Jerusalem and near Tel Aviv, with many refusing to recognize the legitimacy of the new state. But Israel’s secular founders, including the first prime minister, David Ben Gurion, agreed to exempt the young Haredi studying in religious schools from mandatory military service, to provide them with government subsidies to study, and to support their expanding families of five to ten children (compared to secular Jewish families with two to three children).
A vicious cycle developed. With the number of the ultra-Orthodox Jews growing dramatically, the community was able to increase its political influence, with its parties joining coalition governments and acquiring new financial and other benefits for its members and allowing them to grow their families—which continued to live on government subsidies, becoming a drag on the economy.
Today the ultra-Orthodox Jews number around 800,000 and constitute 11 percent of the Israeli population. With a growth rate of 5 percent, one of the highest of the world, they could increase to 20 percent of the population by 2030.
While much of the public rhetoric in Israel has been about multiculturalism and coexistence between secular and ultra-Orthodox Jews, in reality the Haredi resist embracing the liberal and secular values of Israeli society. They not only maintain their separate religious and cultural identity, but also are gradually able to force their norms on the secular Jewish majority.
Hence their political parties ensure that, despite growing pressure from the younger, secular Israeli Jews who reside in advanced modern urban centers in and around Tel Aviv, no attempt will be made to separate religion and state in Israel. The Orthodox-controlled rabbinate continues to maintain jurisdiction over personal-status issues such as Jewish marriages and Jewish divorce, as well as Jewish burials, conversion to Judaism, and kosher laws, while rabbis representing the Reform and Conservative branches of American Judaism continue to fight for state recognition.
In addition to new towns established by the government to accommodate the growing Haredi population, many ultra-Orthodox Jews are also trying to establish a presence in other areas of the country. And the storyline is familiar: several Haredi families move to a mostly secular neighborhood, where they demand that their “religious rights” be protected by, for example, banning traffic and forcing stores to close down during the Sabbath. More Orthodox Jews then join the first group, and before you know it, the entire neighborhood becomes another Haredi outpost. Most recently, under pressure of the religious parties, stores in the Tel Aviv area have lost their permits to open during the Sabbath.
The ultra-Orthodox have some cultural and historical ties to the secular Jewish majority, and they certainly doesn’t pose any national-security threat. And yet not only have the secular Israeli Jews failed to integrate and assimilate the Haredi, but the latter have used their growing demographic power to help them transform the norms of Israel’s secular culture.
Why would anyone believe that a religious minority like the Muslim population of France in Europe, which has historically and culturally been estranged from the secular Christian majority, would be able to integrate—or would even be interested in integrating—into secular European politics and culture?
Add to that the national-security challenges that a radicalized Muslim population poses to Europe, and it becomes clear that the notion that multiculturalism and religious freedom will eventually resolve these problems is nothing more than wishful thinking. That a European political leader would actually take steps to increase the number of Muslim immigrants makes no sense at all, unless the goal is to commit national political and cultural suicide.
It goes without saying that many Muslims and Jews who practice their religion can be assimilated into secular Western societies. Unlike the Haredi, modern Orthodox Jews do coexist with the secular Jewish majority. Exposed to modern education and culture, they don’t try to preserve a separate identity or exhibit intolerance toward those who don’t share their values, and they have excelled in science, business and other professional arenas.
There are many Westernized and modern Muslims in Europe and the United States. In fact, one of the reasons that so many Muslim immigrants have done so well in the United States is that the majority of them, especially those who arrived from Iran and South Asia, tended to be highly educated and secular, which isn’t the case with the more recent arrivals from countries like Somalia and Afghanistan.
And let’s face it: there aren’t so many Muslims, or for that matter ultra-Orthodox Jews, living in the United States. They amount to tiny and insignificant minorities, and that can be accommodated in our pluralistic society. Even if they fail to assimilate into the secular environment, they aren’t able to change American society and culture in the way that the large Hispanic population could in the coming decades.
Secularism and other legacies of the Enlightenment, including liberalism, democracy, and capitalism, may be “universal” in the sense that they have been embraced by many different societies. But nonetheless, each society’s unique history and culture determine whether and how that process takes place.
Hence the German form of capitalism is quite different from the American or Anglo or Chinese one. The United States, Switzerland, and India all have democratic systems, but would anyone seriously suggest that those systems have anything in common save the right to vote? And liberalism means different things in different places. Not even our British cousins have embraced the American tradition of a free press. The Scandinavian style of social democracy could develop only in the small and homogenous societies of Scandinavia. And then, as discussed above, there are the different ways that the Americans and French interpret the principle of freedom of religion.
From that perspective, a nation that absorbs a large number of immigrants from societies whose core cultural values and beliefs run contrary to its dominant norms cannot expect to maintain its common traditions in the long run, as members of a group that rejects them increase in numbers and gain more influence.
So prepare yourself for the inevitable. Expect the Muslim population in Europe to use its growing numbers to do what is clearly in its interest: remaking Europe to reflect its own culture and values.
One does not have to be a science-fiction writer to imagine what will happen if Donald Trump is defeated in November, especially if he loses more states than Mitt Romney did in 2012.
Members of the #NeverTrump wing of the Republican establishment will change their hashtag to #ToldYouSo, contemplating how Jeb Bush, with his reassuring high-school-principal persona and traditional conservative-Republican positions, could have easily defeated the untrustworthy and lefty Hillary Clinton.
The neoconservative knives will be out, with all the usual suspects explaining that what the American people wanted was a president willing to use the full force of American military power to achieve regime change in Damascus and Tehran, among other foreign interventions. In fact, Hillary won because voters embraced her hawkish views while rejecting Trump’s isolationism. The election proved that Americans do want to make the world safe for democracy!
The Club of Growth and the Wall Street Journal editorial page will blame the Donald’s defeat on his drift toward social welfarism and protectionism. Wasn’t it obvious that Americans were in favor of abolishing Medicare and reforming Social Security, and just could not wait for Washington to sign a new free-trade deal with another emerging economy? Americans might have lost their manufacturing jobs and been driven into poverty; but, hey, everyone knows that liberalizing global trade does eventually make everyone more productive and prosperous.
And of course, Trump’s stunning defeat will be a clear sign that the American people have rejected nativism and xenophobia and are in favor of pursuing the current immigration policies (in some “reformed” version) and transforming America into a vigorous multicultural society.
Moreover, any Republican politicians or conservative pundits who dare to question the wisdom of deploying U.S. troops to Syria, or threatening Russia with the use of military force over Ukraine, or allowing China to bombard the American market with cheap and unsafe products—or who call for reinforcing the Mexican border—will be branded Trumpist, isolationist, protectionist, or just racist. How could you adopt the political agenda of a man who had referred to Mexicans as “rapists,” pledged to bar all Muslims from entering into the U.S., and mocked women and the disabled? Shame on you!
These attacks on the defeated presidential candidate and his message could, in turn, prompt those who challenge Republican and conservative orthodoxies, including the Donald himself, to whine that they knew all along that the system was rigged—and to conclude there isn’t much to do now but retreat to the confines of this or that peripheral political sect. The establishment could then depict the Trumpists as a fringe group, the followers of “another Buchanan.” The status quo would be saved. See you in Davos next month!
But it’s quite possible that this depressing scenario will not unfold even if Hillary wins big in November. A loss, even the loss of a political amateur with a narcissistic personality and anger issues, would suck for Republicans. But it would force them to confront the fact that his message has resonated with the base of the party and holds the potential for an electoral realignment.
If Trump loses, a Republican political entrepreneur searching for ways to revive the GOP should try to refashion Trumpism—not as a white ethno-nationalist ideology, but as a new and inclusive political movement along the lines of a New Nationalism, an American Gaullism, or a modified version of globalism that places the national interest at its center. It would be more communitarian than libertarian in its general approach, more Hamiltonian than Jeffersonian on economic policy, and more Nixonian than Cheneyan on foreign policy.
When #NeverTrump honcho Bill Kristol tweeted in July that “I’m old enough to remember when the Republican nominee was pro-war, pro-TPP, and pro-Wall Street … and proud of it!” he demonstrated the extent to which the neoconservatives and free marketers who lead the GOP live in a bubble.
Another telling moment of this year’s Republican presidential campaign was the primary in South Carolina, where Republican voters (including many veterans) traditionally support a strong military. The early conventional wisdom was that Trump’s brutal attacks against President George W. Bush and his Iraq fiasco would backfire and provide a win for Jeb Bush, especially since the entire Bush clan showed up in the state to campaign. But Trump won, a clear indication that the foreign-policy axioms represented by the neoconservative wing of the party have lost their appeal to Republican voters and the American people in general.
That conclusion has been buttressed by results of numerous public-opinion polls that reflect growing American resistance to military interventions abroad, especially in the name of nation-building and exporting democracy, and explains why President Barack Obama has rejected the advice of Democrats like Clinton and the majority of the Republican talking heads to do a rerun of the Iraq War in Syria and launch World War III against Russia.
Similarly, as the Republican and Democratic presidential primaries proceeded during the year, it has become clear even to Tom Friedman what many of us at TAC have been pointing out for years: that the economically squeezed and culturally marginalized members of the American middle class are just not tired of the never-ending wars in the Middle East. They are also turning against the entire set of political and economic dogmas represented by “globalism” or “neo-liberalism” favored by both the Republican and Democratic elites.
This anti-globalism inclination is also driving the growing opposition to mass illegal immigration, international trade agreements, and supranational institutions. It was anticipated long ago by Samuel Huntington—and, for that matter, Pat Buchanan and Sam Francis. It is now a political reality and explains why Trump has emerged as the presumptive Republican presidential candidate.
Anyone who is not consumed by the wishful thinking of globalism needs to recognize these electoral trends and respond to them. Republican strategists should advise politicians, including presidential candidates, to adjust to this new reality.
Supporters of free trade and open immigration don’t have to turn into born-again protectionists or nativist “know nothings”; neoconservatives don’t have to turn into isolationists. Between the extremes is a long continuum on which presidents (including Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon) have operated in the past—with strategic prudence on foreign policy, coupled with trade and immigration policies that advance U.S. national interests as opposed to fuzzy universalist goals.
Instead of seeking out this middle ground, the Republican elites, joined by the mainstream media, have mounted a counter-revolution based on a political narrative that portrays Trump and his supporters as bigots, racists, and nativists. And Trump played into the hands of these critics by making comments that were easily construed as bigoted or just plain stupid, and by failing to promote a coherent policy agenda (notwithstanding telepromptered speeches on foreign policy and trade). Even when he made the reasonable point that ousting Saddam Hussein harmed U.S. interests, for example, he hurt himself and his argument by complimenting Saddam.
Some of Trump’s Republican critics projected empathy toward the Trumpists—you know, those poor white folks who lost their jobs and resent the changing demographics and culture in the country. They are angry, the thinking went—but then they are old white men who will soon disappear from the lists of voter registration. So the main task of the GOP in the coming post-Trump era should be to resurrect the coalition between the national-security neoconservatives and the economic libertarians, backed as usual by the social conservatives, and to continue to appeal to blacks, Hispanics, Asian-Americans, Millennials, and other rising demographic groups.
But whom do the foreign policy hawks and the free marketers really represent, except for the financial donors who sustain their think tanks and magazines? If anything, a Republican presidential candidate running on “a pro-war, pro-TPP, and pro-Wall Street” platform would not win the Republican primaries and is certain not to win the general election. If the United States had a parliamentary system, Kristol’s version of the ideal GOP would probably win around 15 percent of the votes in a general election. And that assumes the neoconservatives, the libertarians, and the social conservatives could find enough political common ground to work together.
A different kind of nationalism—a New Nationalism, an American Gaullism—is far more promising. Indeed, there is no reason it couldn’t also appeal to African-Americans, Hispanics, Asian-Americans, and new immigrants. Trumpism without Trump could actually prove to be more successful than Trumpism with Trump.
You may be all too familiar with those exhausting political-tagging debates involving this politician or that intellectual—and whether he or she is “really” a conservative (or a “real conservative”), a liberal, a libertarian, or a classical liberal. Or perhaps we should add a “paleo” or a “neo” to the label.
These discussions provide opportunities for some to question the ideological purity of their rivals and in some cases, to ex-communicate and deprive them from membership in what is really an imagined political community. But usually they go nowhere, and amount to yet another intellectual parlor game.
Political labels like “liberalism” or “conservatism” are mental constructs, or what German sociologist Max Weber referred to as “ideal types” that help us to conceptualize reality. But in the here and now, in the complex reality of political life, most of us apply simple “I-know-it-when-I-see it” rules of thumb that involve reading the body language and disposition of a person to identify a conservative or a liberal. That process seems to be more credible and cost-effective than the long and tedious debates in intellectual magazines that reflect more on those who are bickering than on those they are bickering about.
More recently, international relations thinkers and practitioners in Washington and elsewhere have been engaged that kind of heated political-tagging squabbling that helped produce a stream of news reports, op-eds and exchanges between cable television pundits, not to mention all the Facebook posts and tweets online. This one focuses on whether Republican Presidential front-runner Donald Trump is a foreign policy “realist” or not.
Hence Harvard University professor Stephen Walt insisted in an article on Foreign Policy that “No, @realDonaldTrump Is Not a Realist,” challenging Fletcher School of Diplomacy Professor Daniel Drezner, who argued that based on a deconstruction of the New York real estate magnate’s statements on foreign policy, Trump should be considered some sort of realist.
Yours truly also joined the debate, siding with the Trump-is-not-a-realist school of thought, noting that Trump has failed to introduce a coherent foreign policy vision and that much of his mishmash of stream-of-consciousness babble on global doesn’t suggest that he subscribes to any school of thought in international relations and that he is basically marketing himself as someone who could make successful business deals and is now ready to conclude winning diplomatic agreements.
But that was before Trump delivered his recent telepromptered foreign policy address and before and I finished reading Realpolitik: A Brief History, an interesting and wide-ranging examination of a term that has been used interchangeably with “realism,” “Machiavellism,” “raison d’état,” and, yes, “realist.”
In a way, historian John Bew, who teaches at the war studies department at King’s College London, attempts to give us an answer to the question: Who is a real realist? And the answer comes close to: It depends on your definition of realpolitik and, by extension, of realism. Or, if you take his argument to an extreme: Nobody and everybody.
Bew introduces the reader to the originator of the term realpolitik, August Ludwig von Rochau, a German writer and politician who published in 1853 a groundbreaking study, Foundations of Realpolitik (with a second version issued in 1869) in which he presented his vision of German unification and nationalism, as well as a practical strategy to achieve it.
Rochau, who today would probably be tagged as either a liberal or a conservative—he was labeled then (and regarded himself) as a “liberal nationalist”—was responding to the failures of the liberal revolution that engulfed Europe in 1848, by sketching, unsurprisingly, a realistic strategy to attain and the goal of a liberal and democratic Germany.
Rochau, who was a journalist and a practitioner, didn’t claim that he was establishing a new school of political thought. In fact, much of what he argued would sound today like common sense. That the “law of the strong is the determining factor in politics”; that “the most effective form of government is one “that incorporates the most powerful social forces within the state”; that ideas influence society that public opinion or the Zeitgeist is crucial in critical in determining a nation’s direction. Duh!
As Bew points out, Rochau was a child of the Enlightenment and a staunch (classical) liberal in the tradition of Edmund Burke. But he was also a pragmatic nationalist who attributed the collapse of the 1848 revolutions to the failure by their leaders to take into consideration political realities; they drifted instead into the la-la lands of idealism and utopianism, trying to impose their wishful thinking on reality. From Rochau’s perspective, being a realist means trying to achieve liberal goals in a world unguided by liberal rules.
After helping to form the Progressive Party in Prussia, Rochau witnessed the unification of Germany by Otto von Bismarck and won a seat in the Reichstag in 1871. He later split with the Progressive Party over the issue of cooperating with Bismarck, and founded the National Liberal Party, which supported accommodation with the Chancellor of the German Empire.
It is at that point, according to Bew, that the term realpolitik started to take a life of its own and was “bastardized.” It was identified with and the militaristic and aggressive type of nationalism that was pursued by Bismarck and later on with the nationalist philosophy that was popularized by Heinrich von Treitschke, which embraced racism, promoted the use of force and territorial expansionism, and eventually integrated into Fascist and Nazi ideologies.
At the same time, the terms realpolitik and realism were applied either as a way to disapprove of policies that supposedly lacked moral foundation, that were cynical or Machiavellian and that placed the interests of the state and its leaders above any other consideration, including the shared moral values and rules of liberal democratic societies.
Or the terms were sometimes used to praise policies and leaders that were committed to a pragmatic approach towards politics and foreign policy. These approaches rejected various utopian projects in favor of those that were based on the realistic considerations of the here and now and required making deals that sometimes ran contrary to ideological purity.
But Bew urges us to return to Rochau’s Foundations of Realpolitik and rejects many of the interpretations of the concept, especially in its authoritarian and expansionist nationalist versions, that he believes are nothing more than caricatures of the original idea. Pragmatism doesn’t have to be value-free, while a willingness to make compromises can demonstrate a moral quality.
And Bew also dismisses attempts by many current theoreticians to add a “scientific” veneer to realpolitik and realism, one that suggests that leaders, like engineers, can choose cost-effective models of statecraft that align with the real facts. He contends that political decisions are by definition products of historical conditions and personal dispositions.
Being realistic means that in the real world we don’t deal with leaders who are either “realists” or “idealists” who operate based on either realpolitik or idealpolitik. Indeed, most U.S. presidents have combined realism and idealism in their policymaking. Woodrow Wilson was not so “Wilsonian” (a dreamy internationalist idealist) as his detractors or supporters imagined him to be. Nor was Richard Nixon the kind of “Nixonian” (a Machiavellian seeker of power) the way he has been sometimes portrayed.
Moreover, pursuing diplomacy and responding to the pressure of public opinion, which is sometimes associated with idealism, can prove to be a very realistic option. At the same time, realist policymaking can sometimes to be an effective way to achieving moral goals. Think Roosevelt allying with Stalin to defeat Hitler. The proof in is the pudding: Saying that a particular leader was a successful statesman assumes that he was also a realist. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been successful.
Returning to Rochau, who after all wasn’t a theoretician, Bew proposes that realpolitik or realism shouldn’t be considered as a foreign-policy doctrine or even school of thought. Like conservatism or liberalism, it should perhaps be seen more as a reflection of personal and political dispositions. Or perhaps it is a set of general principles and an analytical framework that discourages self-delusions and fantasies—and encourages policymakers to strive for what is possible, recognizing the limits set on the use of power at home and abroad.
Which brings us back to the Republican presidential front-runner. Welt and others raised doubts that Trump is a realist by noting that the former television reality-show host hasn’t read any of the great international-relations tomes about realism. And my guess is that he probably hasn’t flipped through Rochau’s Foundations of Realpolitik, which was published in Germany a few years before Trump’s grandparents emigrated from that country to the U.S.
But when one goes through a series of Rochau-inspired recommendations that Bew lists at the end of his book (and compares them to some of the points that Trump raised in his foreign-policy address), one could imagine the late German realist nationalist finding in the New Yorker a kindred spirit. Up to a point.
Rochau, for example, cautioned us that realpolitik was an enemy of “habitual self-delusions” and “naively accepted catchwords” from wherever they come. That is a message that Trump seems to get. Hence he insisted in his address that as a president he would “no longer surrender this country, or its people, to the false song of globalism,” “globalism” being a prime example of a “naively accepted catchword.”
Trump also stressed that “the nation-state remains the true foundation for happiness and harmony,” delivering what could be described as cry of defiance vis-à-vis the “habitual self-delusions” espoused by the foreign policy elites, including the leading newspaper editorial pages and think tanks that led us into the mess in Iraq and adventures of “regime change” and “nation building”
And Rochau would have probably applauded Trump’s pledge that “war and aggression will not be my first instinct” and his insistence that one cannot have a foreign policy without diplomacy and that a superpower “understands that caution and restraint are signs of strength.”
But then 19th century German leader Otto von Bismarck and his successors bastardized the term realpolitik as part of an effort to market their policy of national aggrandizement, militarism and expansionism, leading Bew to warn that “real Realpolitik should be distinguished from a cult of national interest and avoid the traps of fatalism, absolutism and pessimism that have infected some versions of realist thought.”
And there is a bit of “a cult of national interest” in Trump’s trumpeting of the “America First” slogan and lot of fatalism and pessimism in his repeated talk about American military and economic decline, not to mention that disturbing touch of absolutism that he sometimes projects.
That Trump is on his way to winning the Republican presidential nomination suggests that he is more of a realist that his many detractors, all of whom have predicted his fall time and again. And he is a pragmatic dealmaker who will not be caught day-dreaming about building heaven on earth. Luxury hotels are what he builds.
But if Trump may be a realist, he is also a nationalist. You can be both and turn out to be a successful statesman if you follow Rochau’s recommendation to “consider power, ideas, economics and society at the same time, and to identify the junctures and connections between them.” The question is whether Trump could do all of that and tweet at the same time.
We have come to associate the term “technocrats” with the kind of unelected and non-political experts that serve in European governments, particularly those responding to the recent financial crisis that has devastated several economies there. For example, economists like Mario Monti who served as Italy’s prime minister from 2011 to 2013, leading a government of technocrats in the wake of the Italian debt crisis. Their task wasn’t to transform the economic status quo in Italy, but to use their knowledge and expertise to fix that country’s economy.
In fact, “technocrats” was considered to be a term of abuse in the 1960s and the 1970s. It was used then by American intellectuals, especially on the political left, to describe the economists, engineers, and scientists that came to play a critical role in making decisions about domestic and foreign policy. As the critics saw it, asked to build structures that would carry human blood from New York to Chicago, your average technocrat would tell you how much such a project would cost and how long it would take to complete it, but would refrain from asking a very basic question: Why the hell do you need to carry human blood from New York to Chicago?
Robert McNamara, the former president of Ford, and later secretary of defense during the escalation of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, was considered the archetype of the detested technocrat, who like the rest of the Best and the Brightest in Washington never came to challenge the intellectual foundations of U.S. military intervention in Southeast Asia, or for that matter, of the entire American Cold War strategy.
Instead, McNamara was searching for ways to make that policy work, to make it more cost-effective. But what he and other technocrats failed to take into account was that foreign policy, like other social affairs, involves human beings and not machines that can be calibrated in response to our needs. In a way, it’s the job of political leaders to make decisions based on the needs of their respective societies or, in the case of foreign policy, their national communities (in the form of the “national interest”). Only then does one hire the most talented technocrats to implement their decisions.
From that perspective, General David Petraeus, the leading architect of the 2007 “surge” in Iraq, was another technocrat who succeeded in devising and implementing a policy of providing security to Baghdad and Al Anbar Province. He never questioned whether the decision to oust Saddam Hussein and invade Iraq made sense in terms of U.S. national interests. Petraeus therefore failed to consider the possibility that while the “surge” may have helped fix the American vehicle, it didn’t change the fact that we were driving towards a dead-end in Mesopotamia.
If we make this distinction between political leaders and technocrats, it may lead to the conclusion that when it comes to Donald Trump, we may have gotten the entire “thing” wrong. Trump is not ready to become a political leader. He is the ultimate technocrat, a man who loves to fix things in the same way he helped bring back to life the business he inherited from his father. Unlike our great presidents, he really doesn’t have a personal sense of what America is all about, a perspective which is usually grounded in reading history, in a set of values (religious and otherwise), and a feeling for the current Zeitgeist.
We need to take Trump at his word. He is a great deal maker and he thinks that all the problems facing the United States, especially in the international arena—immigration, trade, national security—are consequences of bad deals made by incompetent figures.
Hence Trump doesn’t challenge the notion that the United States needed to negotiate a nuclear deal with Iran or that it has the responsibility to facilitate an Israeli-Palestinian peace deal. He never let us know what he really thinks about the Iranian theocracy and whether or not it is in the American interest to engage with the Ayatollahs. Nor does he explain to us why the U.S. president needs to spend time and resources in resolving a tribal war in the Holy Land. He just asserts that if he was in charge, he would succeed in negotiating the best deal (and indeed as a deal maker he would need to be “neutral” when it comes to the Israelis and the Palestinians).
Even on the issue of trade, Trump insists that he supports free trade and by extension, an open international trade system, but again, that the problem lies in the bad trade deals Americans negotiate. He claims he would be more successful in reaching trade deals with China, Japan, and Korea. Even when it comes to punishing China with tariffs, he winks at us and explains that it’s only the opening position in negotiations with Beijing.
Notice that many of his “views” on such issues as U.S. policy toward Europe and Asia are construed as financial problems and evaluated in terms of costs and benefits. He doesn’t consider why exactly we are continuing to protect South Korea and Germany. As far as he is concerned, we can continue doing that if the South Koreans and the Germans pay us what we deserve for carrying out our services.
Even when he starts sounding as though he is raising broad political and strategic issues, he does so in the form of another cost-effective analysis. For example, during his recent meeting with the editorial page of the Washington Post, he questioned the need to continue participating in NATO, which he said was just too expensive when we need the money to spend on other things.
But NATO isn’t a business. It’s a military-political entity that was formed to promote the interests of the United States and its allies. We should reassess the American role in NATO and the rationale for continuing to maintain it. But Trump needs to explain to us why we need to do that, not like a technocrat going through the books but as a political leader with coherent vision of the role the U.S. should play in the world. We do foreign policy not to make a profit but in order to protect the country and advance its interests.
That much of what Trump describes as foreign policy or national security doesn’t reflect such a vision, and is usually a product of his stream of consciousness babble, also explains why it doesn’t make a lot of sense. He may have been a critic of the Iraq War, but he proposes now that the U.S. deploy thousands of ground troops into Syria and Iraq to fight ISIS, without clarifying why that kind of military intervention wouldn’t lead to another American quagmire.
No one expects Trump or any presidential candidate to be an expert on world affairs, or for that matter, to provide detailed proposals on how to transform the international trade system or remake Western alliances. But one assumes that the person who wants to lead this country would have some intellectual curiosity about these issues, like Ronald Reagan did, and that he would try to learn them and recruit the best minds in the field to help him make the correct decisions and serve in his administration as technocrats and negotiators.
Yet the same man who apparently has enough money in the bank to purchase high-quality steaks and show them off during his press conference, responded to the pressure on him to unveil the members of his foreign policy team by showcasing in Washington Monday a group of men who are part of the “foreign policy establishment” that Trump’s supporters love to bash.
The problem is these advisers occupy the lowest echelons of that foreign policy establishment, and include two Beltway Bandits (Joseph Schmitz and Keith Kellogg), two self-proclaimed “energy analysts” (Carter Page and George Papadopoulos), and a professional propagandist (Walid Phares). In short, they are Kissingers for very poor people.
What the five do have in common is that they have never said or written anything that had a limited impact on the war of ideas in Washington—or was even noticed by the rest of the community of foreign policy practitioners and thinkers. And what they had to say or write has been either the kind of policy papers and columns that appear in marginal magazines and websites that nobody usually reads.
Moreover, the views they expressed certainly don’t echo the non-interventionist positions that Trump supposedly advocates, at least according to the Washington Post. In fact, Phares was a cheerleader for the Iraq War and for President George W. Bush’s Freedom Agenda. Certainly these are not the kind “big” thinkers and “beautiful” ideas that the Donald has promised us. Instead, they are his mini-mes.
Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised, since in Trump’s world foreign policy—and policy in general—has very little to do with ideas that would allow us to change reality. What counts is the technical knowledge and skills of the policy maker, the technocrat. And since the Donald has those in large amounts, all he has to do is look in the mirror and talk with himself.
If Donald Trump has distanced himself from some of the positions held by two of the powerful wings of the conservative movement—free marketeers and evangelical Christians—he has provoked a fury among members of the third GOP wing, the neoconservatives, who for all practical purposes dominate the party’s foreign policy thinking.
To say that the neocons don’t like Trump would be an understatement. If you read the daily anti-Trump screeds in The Washington Post, Weekly Standard, and National Review, you get the impression that they view Trump with the kind of scorn they once reserved for Pat Buchanan, who they accused of being “anti-Israeli,” if not “anti-Semitic.” But these are labels that they may have trouble assigning to the Donald. After all, in addition to his pro-Israeli and anti-Muslim rhetoric, Trump’s daughter, Ivanka, converted to Judaism and married into a modern Orthodox Jewish family.
What’s more, Trump has not challenged that central tenet of the neoconservative movement, support for close ties with Israel. He blasts the nuclear deal with Iran, and identifies the fight against radical Islam as a top U.S. strategic interest. Trump even appeared in television ads supporting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during that country’s last parliamentary elections, and has pledged to relocate the U.S. embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. In some respects, Trump seems to be more “pro-Israel” than many Israelis, including those who pressed Netanyahu to disinvite the Donald after Trump called for barring Muslims from entering the United States.
And yet, while many evangelical Christians express strong support for Trump (even as they recognize that unlike Senator Cruz he doesn’t attend church every week), several leading neoconservative pundits have threatened to vote for Hillary Clinton, or even to bid farewell to the GOP if Trump is nominated as the party’s presidential candidate.
Neoconservatives may not share Trump’s forceful anti-immigration approach and are probably appalled by the support he is supposedly receiving from white nationalists. But then Cruz, who is favored by several leading neoconservative donors and activists, is also in favor of restrictive immigration policies. And wasn’t Richard Nixon’s “southern strategy,” later pursued by Ronald Reagan and other Republican politicians, based in part on exploiting opposition to racial integration among whites?
More likely, the anti-Trump sentiments are driven by concerns among neoconservatives and those tied to their network of foreign policy donors, think tankers, and publicists. They have become the foreign-policy establishment of the GOP, controlling the national security agenda of the party. They provide presidential candidates with the advisors who would prepare their talking points in key areas such as Iran, Russia, and Israel. They are the people who would normally manage the foreign policy of a new Republican president.
Just listen to the campaign speeches being made by Marco Rubio, Jeb Bush, Carly Fiorina, Chris Christie, or John Kasich. Well, you don’t have to listen to them, you can just read the editorials of the Wall Street Journal: We need to maintain American global diplomatic and military hegemony, especially in the Middle East, including by deploying U.S. ground troops to not only destroy ISIS but to show Russia, China, and Iran who’s boss. We will rescind the nuclear deal with Iran (and then phone “Bibi”), arm the “moderates” in Syria so that they can fight Assad, back the Ukrainians so they can stand up to the Russians, and challenge the Chinese in South China Sea.
Things could have looked different for Trump. Before announcing his candidacy, he might have invited Bill Kristol and his associates to his Palm Beach castle for a weekend retreat, where he would have received foreign policy tutorials from all the usual suspects and assigned a group of advisors to write his foreign policy speeches. The Washington Post op-ed page might have been flooded with commentaries comparing Trump to Teddy Roosevelt and crowning him as the next Ronald Reagan.
But that didn’t happen. Unlike Rubio and Cruz, Trump had no need for the financial resources provided by the donors who also help sustain the neoconservative networks in Washington. And even more importantly, he apparently thinks for himself. When it comes to managing American foreign policy, Trump doesn’t buy the neoconservative line.
Recall that all hell broke loose after Cruz, during an interview with Bloomberg last December, called for embracing a little less interventionist of a foreign policy, which he identified with the “neocons.” Two of them, Elliott Abrams and Eliot Cohen, then suggested that the senator from Texas was engaging in Jew-baiting. Ben Domenech of The Federalist actually felt compelled to write an article titled, “Ted Cruz Is Not An Anti-Semite.”
So you didn’t have to be a political prognosticator to imagine what would happen when Trump not only recalled his earlier opposition to the Iraq War and his prediction that it would lead to chaos in the Middle East, but also started challenging some of the main tenets of neoconservative orthodoxy. He suggested that we shouldn’t send troops to Syria (forget about deposing Assad) and instead can allow the Russians to destroy ISIS there. Trump claimed that Putin isn’t such a bad guy and that he could work with him. He asserted that the idea of exporting democracy to the Middle East doesn’t make a lot of sense, and that we might be better off leaving certain dictators in power.
Trump was immediately bashed as an “isolationist” who according to some in the media is a cousin of “protectionists” and “nativists.” Meanwhile, some anti-interventionists speculated that his feud with the neoconservatives was a sign that Trump was one of them.
The more serious analysts, who have been trying to deconstruct his foreign policy agenda, proposed that he exudes a nationalist disposition. According to Walter Russell Mead, “Donald Trump, for now, is serving as a kind of blank screen on which Jacksonians project their hopes.” Jacksonian America sees “traditional rivals like Russia, China, North Korea and Iran making headway against a President that it distrusts; more troubling still, in ISIS and jihadi terror it sees the rapid spread of a movement aiming at the mass murder of Americans.” Theirs is a nationalist agenda that centers on using U.S. diplomatic and military power to advance core national interests and not to spread liberal democracy around the world or engage in “nation building.”
Coupled with his pledge to launch trade wars against China and other emerging economies and to impose strict restriction on immigration, the occasional statements that Trump has made on foreign policy would suggest that he is more of a nationalist than an internationalist, a Jacksonian as opposed to a Wilsonian, a Hamiltonian, or a Jeffersonian, to apply Mead’s classification of American foreign policy traditions.
But then Trump’s bombastic rhetoric doesn’t reflect any coherent foreign policy agenda, and certainly not one that could be described as “realist.” He seems to be telling us what he won’t do as opposed to what he would do as commander-in-chief, and he never really explains his own definition of the U.S. national interest and what U.S. geostrategic goals should be. Should the United States reduce its military commitments in the Middle East and elsewhere? What role should the United States play now in East Asia? If he is opposed to the nuclear deal with Iran, does he believe that the United States should use its military power to prevent the ayatollahs from acquiring access to nuclear capabilities? And what is so “realist” about the idea of bombing ISIS if you cannot explain what would replace it? Bombing is a means to achieve a goal, and Trump has yet to clarify his strategic goals in Syria and Iraq.
Trump doesn’t provide any answers to these and other questions and is basically telling us that we should trust him to make the right choices. And we cannot direct those questions to his foreign policy advisors since he has none. Apparently, as he told Chuck Todd from NBC News, he relies on the pundits he watches on television news shows as well as on former UN ambassador John Bolton (who urged Washington to bomb Iran’s nuclear sites) and retired Colonel Jake Jacobs. And according to Bloomberg View’s Josh Rogin, “Trump has also spoken with controversial historian Daniel Pipes and Israel’s current envoy to the UN Danny Danon, among others.”
The meetings with Bolton, Pipes, and Danon, provide us perhaps with a sense of what would actually happen if Trump emerges as the presumptive Republican presidential candidate and tries to mend his relationships with the various wings of the Republican establishment and the conservative movement.
Does anyone seriously expect the donors and lobbyists affiliated with the GOP to propose that Trump hire, say, John Mearsheimer or Andrew Bacevich as his foreign policy advisors? More likely, the foreign policy types who were staffing the campaigns of Rubio, Bush, and Cruz would be assigned to coach the Republican candidate and write his speeches after all, as part of the deal that would be reached between the “outsider” and the “insiders.”
Moreover, speculating whether President Trump’s foreign policy would resemble that of, say, Nixon or Reagan would probably be a waste of time. Without coming up with a new foreign policy paradigm to replace the old one that has been dominating Washington since the end of the Cold War, expect the new president, whether it’s Trump or any of the other candidates, to maintain the status quo as he muddles through and reacts to crises abroad. President Trump may prove to be more pragmatic than a President Rubio in handling world affairs, but his definition of core U.S. national interests would not be much different.
During his press conference in Turkey following the G20 summit earlier this month, Barack Obama sounded like an intellectually arrogant instructor presiding over a seminar in U.S. foreign policy. Professor Obama invited the reporters to take part in a discussion over a proposed case study, “How to Defeat ISIS.” This is my preferred option, he seemed to be saying, analyzing the costs and the benefits of his policy while becoming impatient with lazy students who failed to do their homework. “Why do I have to repeat myself?” he appeared to ask.
The Obama lecture of course came before Turkey attacked a Russian plane on its border with Syria, creating the possibility of a wider conflict between larger powers. Obama must now end the seminar and exercise real leadership, calling upon other members of the wealthy G20 nations—especially Western Europe—to help police their own backyard.
While Obama has tried to cut the costs of upholding Pax Americana in the Middle East using a reactive and often ineffective policy, neither he nor any leading Democratic or Republican figure has come up with a proposal to replace the Middle East strategy adopted after the Cold War. That strategy, which was pursued by several administrations, was based on the assumption that when considering interests and values, it is the obligation of the United States to secure the balance of power in the Middle East. But from the Iraq War to the Syrian civil war, as well as through the Arab Spring, that policy ended up with outcomes that were harmful to U.S. interests and not aligned with its values.
Trying to fill the intellectual vacuum in Washington at the end of the Cold War, I once tried to draw the outlines of an alternative U.S. strategy of “constructive disengagement” from the Middle East, in which I also made a special effort to respond to skeptics who posed the following question: If America ceased to play the role of the hegemon in the region, who was going to protect Western interests in the Middle East? For example, who would secure access to the energy resources in the Persian Gulf, contain regional and outside aggressors, or manage the Israeli-Palestinian “peace process”?
What about our European allies?
After all, unlike that of the U.S., European economies are actually dependent on energy imports from the Middle East. And because of their geographical proximity to the region and the growing Arab immigrant population in their countries, Europeans tend to be more sensitive than the Americans to threats of instability in the region.
Yet, as I pointed out in 2003, “Despite the disappearance of the Soviet threat, U.S. presidents, including George Bush the elder to Bill Clinton to George W. Bush have operated on one assumption: That the United States should continue to maintain its hegemonic position in the Middle East — while simultaneously minimizing the role of the Europeans.”
And I argued 10 years later that U.S. withdrawal from Iraq and the reduction of the U.S. military footprint in the Middle East would make sense only as part of a new U.S. strategy that must encourage regional powers to operate under the assumption that the United States would not be there to micromanage the balance of power in the region, and should also “provide incentives for Washington’s European allies to protect their interests in a region that is after all in their strategic backyard.”
Those who noted that the Europeans didn’t have the diplomatic influence and military power to dictate strategic outcomes in the Middle East usually dismissed these arguments. Only the Americans have the resources “to do the job” in the Middle East.
But then these counter arguments only helped to highlight the vicious circle created when the Europeans get a free ride on American protection in the Middle East. By doing the job themselves, Americans are failing to provide incentives to the Europeans to build their militaries so that they could take care of their interests in the Middle East, which leaves the Americans no choice but to continue doing the job.
The end result has been that the United States pursuing policies, like the war in Iraq, that have destabilized the region in the way that proved to been detrimental to the interests of the European states. The collapse of Iraq and Syria and the ensuing Islamic radicalization that has been affecting their Arab immigrant population, not only ignited acts of terrorism in Europe like the recent one in Paris, but also helped create a new flood of immigrants from the region into Europe. In short, U.S. policies in the Middle East impacted on core French and German national interests.
Against this backdrop, the notion that the terror attack in Paris reflected a lack of American leadership in the Middle East and that the United States needs to now “do something” (such as deploy more troops into the Middle East) doesn’t make a lot of sense. (Especially considering that this country’s Muslim population has been mostly integrated into society and Muslim immigrants are not fleeing in droves into the United States.)
Imagine a scenario under which a radical Mexican movement, calling for the return of California and Texas to Mexico, took over part of Mexico’s territory, infiltrated the Hispanic immigrant population in the U.S., and launched acts of terror in this country while igniting a flood of hundreds of thousands of Mexican immigrants into the country? Would Americans be waiting for the Europeans to “do something” and project their leadership in Central America?
Let’s face the facts. ISIS is not the Soviet Union or even Saddam’s Iraq. France, with or even without the assistance of Germany and other European countries, and in cooperation with Russia and regional powers like Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Iran, has the military capacity to devastate (if not to destroy) ISIS forces in the Levant and Mesopotamia. That could mean the deployment of tens of thousands of European troops to the region where they will have to fight and could indeed suffer a lot of casualties.
As military expert Michael Shurkin put it, the French might not be able to defeat ISIS, but “based on their history, whatever they do in addition to the recent airstrikes, they are likely to act in a measured way and think first. They might act quietly, so quietly we might never hear of it. But one thing is certain: If the French are determined to hurt someone, they will.”
In any case, the presence of European boots on the ground is in the interest of France, Germany, and other European countries. There is no reason why the U.S.—which is facing other critical challenges at home and abroad—should do the job for them.
In fact, direct European military intervention in the Middle East as part of a war against ISIS—with the United States providing indirect assistance in intelligence and logistical support—could become the first step in the process of American “constructive disengagement” from the region. An exhausted and ineffective hegemon, the United States must incentivize its wealthy partners to start taking care of the interests in their strategic backyard.
It has become a media ritual in Washington. A few months after a president takes office, pundits start debating whether the new White House occupant has a foreign-policy “doctrine.”
This preoccupation is another example of either the increasing sophistication of American journalists or of the intellectual pretensions of our pundits—not unlike their use of the term “narrative,” once employed mainly by literary scholars, or their frequent references to a professional economist’s favorite, “moral hazard.”
What pundits really have in mind when they ask whether this or that president has a foreign-policy doctrine is whether he has, well, a foreign policy. But it’s not clear what political scientist Colin Dueck means when he discusses the foreign-policy doctrine of President Obama: he seems to be using the terms “doctrine” and “grand strategy” interchangeably, as in the title of this book, The Obama Doctrine: American Grand Strategy Today. This confusion is evident from the first sentence, where Dueck suggests that every modern American president “has a foreign policy doctrine” and then goes on to critique the grand strategy of President Obama. So what is it: doctrine or grand strategy?
We’re not engaged in semantic nitpicking here, but recalling some basic stuff we studied—and in the case of Dueck and yours truly, have taught—in Foreign Policy 101.
In general, adding “doctrine” to the name of the president assumes that he made a series of decisions and statements that amounted to a coherent foreign policy and reflected a certain view of the international system—like President Harry Truman’s doctrine, which he announced to Congress on March 12, 1947, when he pledged to contain Soviet threats to Greece and Turkey and asked Congress to appropriate financial and military aid to those countries. That address was seen as the basis of American foreign policy during the Cold War, which assumed that Washington would provide support for other nations imperiled by Soviet communism.
Most of the presidential doctrines that followed—like those named after Presidents Eisenhower, Nixon, Carter, and Reagan—were variations on the Truman Doctrine and responded to the perceived Soviet threat during the Cold War. The Nixon Doctrine referred to a statement that President Nixon made during a press conference in Guam on July 25, 1969, when he tried to explain his decision to start a phased withdrawal of U.S. troops from Vietnam, asserting that “the United States would assist in the defense and developments of allies and friends” but would not “undertake all the defense of the free nations of the world.” Both the Eisenhower and the Carter Doctrines focused specifically on the protection of U.S. interests in the Middle East and the Persian Gulf in the face of Soviet aggression, while the Reagan Doctrine asserted the commitment by the Reagan administration to overwhelm the global influence of the Soviet Union.
A grand strategy comprises the “purposeful employment of all instruments of power available to a security community,” according to British military historian B.H. Liddell Hart. For example: the grand strategy of the Roman Empire and the U.S. grand strategy during World War II or the Cold War.
Grand strategy consists not only of military means but also diplomatic and economic instruments of power. Think of a grand strategy as a basic color (green) and a foreign-policy doctrine as a shade of that basic color (lime green). Hence containment was the central component of American grand strategy during the Cold War, and the coherence and consistency of each of the presidential doctrines reflected their reliance on that grand strategy.
What Dueck fails to recognize is that since the end of the Cold War, Republican and Democratic presidents, Congress, and the rest of Washington have not been able to come up with a coherent U.S. grand strategy to replace the one that was pursued during confrontation with the Soviet Union. And that lack of a grand strategy explains why none of the three post-Cold War presidents has been able to draw the outlines of a consistent foreign-policy doctrine. Instead, Washington under these presidents has been pursuing a series of ad hoc responses to foreign threats and crises that pundits like Dueck have been mislabeling as doctrines.
The main goal of these three presidents has been to maintain the global status quo and allow the United States to sustain its global primacy. And they embraced an outdated version of the Cold War grand strategy that committed them to containing potential challengers to U.S. primacy.
One can and should critique the foreign policy pursued by President Obama. Dueck actually does a good job pointing out the White House’s incoherent responses to the so-called Arab Spring, including the decision to support the ouster of Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak, the messy regime change in Libya and mishandling of the civil war in Syria, and the mismanagement of relations with Russia and China.
Where Dueck goes wrong is to assume that Obama, or for that matter Bill Clinton or George W. Bush, has operated on the basis of a reasoned doctrine that was grounded in well thought-out grand strategy.
It’s true that Bush and his aides did try to introduce what was supposed to be a grand strategy in response to the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and that included elements of a doctrine, such as pre-emptive action and democracy promotion. But Bush eventually retreated back to the same kind of non-doctrine pursued earlier by Clinton and later by Obama: one of muddling through, adapting to a very complicated international system where problems are not susceptible to black-and-white solutions and neat answers, or doctrines.
Indeed, when it comes to foreign affairs all policymakers are muddling through these days, creating policy through incremental adjustments. Which is why some of the criticism that Dueck directs at Obama also applies to policies pursued by Bush during his second term. Consider their approaches to Iraq (setting a timetable to withdraw U.S. troops), Iran (refraining from using military force to end its nuclear program), Israel/Palestine (trying but failing to make peace), Russia (diplomatic responses to its military aggression in Georgia and Ukraine), and China (diplomatic and economic engagement); and recall that the pragmatic Secretary of Defense Robert Gates helped both presidents adjust to changing realities.
Dueck still insists that there was no continuity, and after outlining different strategies embraced by various American presidents—retrenchment, regime change, accommodation, offshore balancing—he argues that there is in fact an Obama Doctrine, a grand strategy of “retrenchment and accommodation” that the White House has been pursuing in order to “allow the president to focus on securing liberal policy legacies at home.” According to Dueck, international powers like China, Russia, and Iran—as well as ISIS—have interpreted the Obama Doctrine as one of U.S. disengagement from the world, creating a power vacuum that they are eager to fill.
But then Dueck qualifies his own thesis by noting that even during the Cold War the United States never followed only one strategy at a time—even Truman didn’t always follow the rules of his own doctrine—and that the norm has been “hybrid” strategies that “vary by time and place, and combine the advantages (or disadvantages) of pure strategic types.” Those hybrid strategies evolved at a time when all presidents endorsed the Cold War’s grand strategy of containment.
So perhaps there is more to Obama’s foreign policy than retrenchment and accommodation, as Dueck himself admits: an exercise in regime change in Libya; escalation of the use of drones for targeted killings; the hunting down and elimination of Osama bin Laden (a less accommodating policy vis-à-vis Pakistan than that of Obama’s predecessor); the employment of economic sanctions against Russia; containing Beijing through a U.S. “pivot” toward East Asia and a regional free-trade area that excludes China; providing military assistance to the Iraqis and other players fighting the Islamic State; a determined diplomatic effort aimed at freezing Iran’s nuclear military program.
But according to the caricature of the president and his foreign policy that Dueck draws, “Obama does not really believe that conflict is at the essence of world politics,” and he subscribes to the notion that “genuine and over-arching international cooperation is possible”—as though presidents cannot be both tough and accommodating in pursuing foreign policy.
You see, reflecting “a style he seems to have first fully developed as a community organizer in Chicago,” Obama believes that promoting international cooperation can be achieved “through the mutual accommodation of interests and led by American example.”
And what is exactly wrong with that? It sounds very much like the kind of policy that was advocated by President Reagan, who at one point during his presidency sounded like he was ready to nuke the “evil empire” and at another point seemed to be seeking to work out with the Soviets a scheme to rid the world of nuclear weapons.
The closest that Obama came to enunciating a “doctrine” was at the start of his second term in office, when he a delivered a commencement speech at West Point that aimed to lay out pieces of his foreign policy vision and challenge the policies of his predecessor, which were based on the assumption that the United States had the right and the obligation to take unilateral preemptive action.
In that context, President Obama’s proposal to invest more in “nation building” at home than abroad was aimed at countering President Bush’s expansive and expensive foreign policy. The change had less to do with the requirements of Obama’s liberal domestic reforms, which included a health-care program once advocated by Mitt Romney and the Heritage Foundation.
In his West Point speech, President Obama essentially argued that he would re-embrace the foreign policy principles that have guided all U.S. presidents in the post-1945 era except his Republican predecessor.
“When issues of global concern do not pose a direct threat to the United States, when such issues are at stake, when crises arise that stir our conscience or push the world in a more dangerous direction but do not directly threaten us, then the threshold for military action must be higher,” the president told the graduating cadets at West Point. “In such circumstances, we should not go it alone,” he stressed. “Instead, we must mobilize allies and partners to take collective action.”
This set of principles—more judicious use of military force and greater reliance on diplomacy and alliances—didn’t qualify as a full-blown doctrine but did serve to distinguish his policies from those of his predecessor. Indeed, Obama spent most of his first term in office trying to clean up the mess that President Bush had made in Iraq and the Middle East and repair relationships with governments around the world.
Dueck is right to say that President Obama’s foreign-policy record hasn’t been a success story. But at a time when the international system was going through major changes and the American public was opposed to new military deployments, his efforts to resolve some crises through diplomatic means—in Syria, Ukraine, and Iran—seem to be a cost-effective way of protecting U.S. interests. The best criticism of these policies is that they may have lacked a strategic coherence at a time when the United States needed to develop a new grand strategy.
Dueck doesn’t buy that, maintaining that Republicans need to come up with an alternative to the Obama Doctrine that reflects what he calls “Conservative Realism.” But what Dueck advocates is essentially nothing more than a strategy aimed at protecting the status quo, the “preservation of American primacy” through a “forward military presence on the Eurasian continent.” Ironically, that is exactly the strategy that President Obama and his two predecessors have been pursuing since 1992.
When Vladimir Putin sat down with Charlie Rose of “60 Minutes” last Sunday, there was something refreshing about the Russian president’s encounter with the American media. A world leader discussed the Middle East by using terms of Realpolitik such as the “national interest.” There was little if any of the Wilsonian globaloney favored by members of our foreign policy establishment—Democrats and Republicans alike—who seem to share the belief that the only thing missing from the region today is American “leadership.”
As Rose recycled all the clichés of the editorial page of the Washington Post (which he even quoted during the interview), he inquired whether the Russian leader agreed that the lack of U.S. leadership in the Middle East had helped create a “strategic vacuum,” one that Moscow was now trying to fill. Putin replied by recalling that the last time the United States had tried to project its leadership in the region—by ousting Saddam Hussein and “liberating” Iraq (he apropos also mentioned Gaddafi and Libya)—things had not turned out so well. It did indeed create a huge void, which in addition to strengthening Iran, ignited a bloody civil war that spilled over into Syria, destabilizing the entire region.
Meanwhile, on other channels and programs, you can watch critics of President Obama’s Syria policy (including presidential candidate Marco Rubio) bemoan Russia’s involvement there. These parrots on speed go on and on about how he should have retained more U.S. troops in Iraq and provided assistance to “moderate” Syrian insurgents. The subtext of all these arguments—as well as the suggestion that Obama could have negotiated a “better” Iran nuclear deal—is that all these proposed policies would not have worked, and that the United States would have eventually been forced to deploy a large number of ground troops to fight the Islamic State in Iraq, topple Assad in Syria, and end Iran’s nuclear program.
And as everyone knows, the majority of Americans do not want the United States to be drawn into a new war in the Middle East. The public does not care about achieving goals that do not seem to be in line with the nation’s strategic and economic interests.
There is also an element of retro-strategic thinking, if not nostalgia for the Cold War, in the spectacle of American politicians and pundits warning us of Russian expansion into the Middle East. Last time I stepped back to look at world events, it seemed clear that we do not have a bi-polar international system, and that Moscow is not trying to export communism into the Middle East or harm the interests of the United States and its regional allies. In fact, since the end of the Cold War, it is the United States that has been trying to export its universal ideology of liberal democracy into the Middle East and oust regimes that used to be clients of the Soviet Union, including in Iraq and Syria.
When Rose pestered Putin repeatedly about why he was providing support to the ruthless and bloody Baath regime in Damascus, the Russian President reminded viewers that once upon a time, Washington provided assistance to the ruthless and bloody Baath regime in Baghdad. That was when Saddam Hussein was fighting the Ayatollahs in Iran (he could have mentioned our alliance with the Saudis who are planning to “crucify” a young human rights activist in the coming days).
You do not have to be a great strategic thinker—or an ardent Russophile who wants to recreate the Byzantine Empire—to agree that Russia has legitimate national security interests to protect in the Middle East. After all, the Greater Middle East is in Russia’s strategic backyard and the current chaos in the region could spill over in the form of growing radicalization of its Muslim population. There is also the prospect of a regional war that could affect not only Russian interests, but also those of Germany and other European countries.
It should be noted that Russia is also helping the members of the Alawite minority in Syria, as well the endangered Christian communities under threat of being annihilated by the forces of the murderous Islamic State. Isn’t that also a U.S. interest?
Unlike during the Cold War, relations between Moscow and U.S. allies in the Middle East—Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Israel—are quite friendly. Putin was the first world leader that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has met since his re-election early this year.
Many American policymakers have been programmed under the influence of the great ideological struggles of the 20th century, and view the international system as an arena where Good (the United States) fights Evil. So it is difficult for them to accept that the pursuit of U.S. interests sometimes requires partnering with those who do not share our dreams and aspirations. Not so long ago, we allied with Stalin to fight Hitler, and then partnered with Mao and Jihadists in Afghanistan to battle the Soviets. From that perspective, Putin does not look like Satan Incarnate.
Moreover, the notion that Russian military intervention in Syria amounts to a great win for the Russians (and therefore a big loss for Americans), assumes that Putin might actually succeed there. Yet the idea that Russia will bring stability, peace and prosperity to Syria—and turn average Syrians into Russia’s best friends—runs contrary to the historic American and Soviet experience in the Middle East. The American misadventure in Iraq and attempt to remake the region, not to mention the close to half-century Israeli rule over the Palestinians, suggest that no one is going to come out as a winner from Russia’s new intervention in the Levant.
Leon Hadar, senior analyst at Wikistrat, a geostrategic consulting group, is the author of Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East.
In early 1993 then-Foreign Affairs managing editor Fareed Zakaria asked me to write a commentary for the magazine based on a policy analysis that I had published as a research fellow at the Cato Institute. In the policy analysis, I challenged the thesis that Islam was replacing communism as the top ideological challenge to the West while at the same time, Iran was supposedly emerging to replace the Soviet Union as a leading global strategic threat to the United States.
My subsequent Foreign Affairs article, “What Green Peril?” drew a lot of attention at the time but was displaced as a foreign policy Big Think piece by another Foreign Affairs essay, “The Clash of Civilizations,” in which the renowned political thinker Samuel Huntington contended that political Islam, together with other civilizational entities, would pose long-term perils to U.S. global interests.
In any case, the arguments I had stated in my earlier Foreign Affairs piece continued to haunt me through the years, first, in the aftermath of 9/11 when some of my critics, especially on the political right, suggested that my thesis was now overrun by events that supposedly demonstrated that the notion of Green Peril was not a figment of imagination of frustrated Cold Warriors.
More recently, I contended that the failures of American democracy promotion and “nation building” project in Iraq, as well as those of the Arab Spring, to deliver on liberal-democratic promises made it obvious that the values of the Enlightenment project were not compatible with those of contemporary Islam. I was then criticized by some on the left for bashing Islam, if not exhibiting—Allah Forbid!—a certain level of Islamophobia that seemed to contradict the positions I laid out in “What Green Peril?”
But in fact, as I revisited my old Foreign Affairs piece, I discovered that my main thesis remains basically intact. If anything, 9/11 and the ensuing “war on terror” coupled with the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq only strengthened it by demonstrating that the United States and the West were facing neither an ideological challenge nor a strategic threat from a unified and monolithic Islamic ideological bloc a la the Soviet Bloc during the Cold War.
First, contrary to the neoconservative axiom embraced by the second President Bush, the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington were not part of a grand strategy advanced by a global Islamofascist alliance of states and movements intent on defeating American interests and Western values.
The U.S. invasion of Iraq and its aftermath make it clear that there is neither a cohesive Iraqi nation nor a united Arab people, but it also exposed the deep sectarian, ethnic, and even tribal divisions in the Arab Middle East and the entire Muslim world, especially between Sunnis and Shiites. These tend to override in many cases the traditional opposition among Arabs and Muslims to American and Western intervention in the Middle East.
To use the historical analogy of the Cold War, it took us quite a while to discover that the Soviet Bloc was not homogenous; that the Vietnamese, Koreans, and even Cubans were driven by nationalist sentiments as opposed to communist ideology; and that the Chinese and the Russians hated each other more than either despised the United States.
But it didn’t take us longer than a Baghdad minute to find out that there were actually no ties between Iraq’s Baath regime and al-Qaeda; that Saddam Hussein was a secular leader who represented the interests of the Sunni minority in Iraq and counterbalanced Shiite Iran—as opposed to the secular Baath regime in Syria that represented the interests of the Shiite minority and was allied with theocratic Iran; that the Kurds were also Muslims but supported the United States, as did theocratic Sunni Saudi Arabia. We discovered all of this and much more in the first two or three years of America’s war against so-called Islamofascism.
As I pointed out in my Foreign Affairs piece and subsequent articles published after 9/11 and the Iraq War, the Muslim Middle East is a mosaic of ethnic, sectarian, and tribal groups and regional players that are driven—including in their attitudes towards the United States—mainly by interests and not ideology. This is true whether it was communism during the Cold War or Islamism today, although secular and religious ideologies can help mobilize public support and provide a sense of legitimacy to those in power as well as to those who oppose them.
Hence, the United States wasn’t becoming a target for attacks by some Muslims because its values were not compatible with theirs—which would require a major ideological effort to promote American values in the Middle East—but as a result of specific policies that the United States was promoting in the region, including an alliance with the ruling regimes, but support for Israel, etc.
We may conclude that those policies do advance U.S. interests and continue to pursue them, but we shouldn’t be surprised if and when we experience the inevitable “blowback” in response. And we certainly shouldn’t assume that converting our Muslim opponents to our secular and liberal values would change their attitudes towards us, even setting aside the impracticability of such a plan.
Indeed, one could even make the argument that American ideological “victory” in the Cold War, followed by Russia’s adoption of electoral democracy and China’s embrace of capitalism, failed to change the fact that the United States experiences geostrategic tensions with those powers that reflect incompatible national interests.
That became even more obvious during the so-called Arab Spring, when not unlike during the short life span of the so-called Freedom Agenda, American pundits and officials adopted a narrative that reflected their wishful thinking, and assumed that American power and ideas can help remake the Middle East. Under W. it would involve the use of American military to achieve “regime change,” while under Obama—with the exception of the deposing of Libya’s Muammar Qaddafi—it would be achieved through an alliance with the young Arabs with Facebook accounts and “moderate” anti-government insurgents.
But as I pointed out in TAC,
In reality, the so-called Arab Spring consists of a mishmash of anti-government demonstrations triggered in most cases by police over-reaction and fuelled by economic hard times (Tunisia and Egypt), ethnic and religious tensions (Syria and Bahrain) and tribal rivalries (Libya and Yemen) as well as by growing public perception that the global hegemon – the United States – that was helping keep ruling regimes in place is losing its power.
From that perspective, there wasn’t much difference between the grand narratives that Bush II and Obama applied to the broader Middle East, both of which seemed to be based on the expectation of a linear progression towards liberal democracy in the Muslim world.
The main difference had to do with the means to achieving those goals, with the Republican president’s preferred modus operandi being a mix of force and persuasion, and his Democratic successor seemingly counting on diplomacy and the power of his personality and rhetoric to win the minds and hearts of Muslims everywhere.
In some respect, these contrasting attitudes have been recycled in recent months against the backdrop of terrorist acts in Europe and elsewhere perpetrated by either Muslim “lone wolves” or by those with links to radical Islamic groups. Conservatives seem to be trying to revive the post-9/11 notion of a global Islamic threat that the Islamic State supposedly represents, which would require once again the use of American military force to defeat it. At the same time, President Obama and many liberals assume that Muslims are just “like us” and that if they would be provided with the right incentives and opportunities, they would end up rejecting anti-Western radicalism and terrorism.
Conservatives once again seem to overlook the reality in the Muslim world where many Muslims not only reject the Islamic State’s ideology and methods, but in the cases of the Kurds, Egyptians, Jordanians, and Saudis, are willing to use their own forces to fight it. President Obama seems to get it and to recognize that a wider American military in the Middle East only creates disincentives for these regional players to do just that.
But President Obama may be deluding himself if he thinks that the relative success of Muslim immigrants to integrate in American society suggest that what took place under the very unique political and economic conditions of this country could be replicated in Europe or in the Middle East when the “root causes” of Muslim radicalism are eliminated.
But political Islam, especially in its more radical manifestation, remains a powerful political and ideological force and represents a set of values that on many levels—freedom of expression is just one example—isn’t compatible with contemporary Western beliefs, especially in their postmodern incarnations. Hence while in Europe and the United States we are debating the issue of same-sex-marriage, in the Muslim world homosexuality isn’t only illegal but also can be subject to harsh punishment, including death.
There is nothing “Islamophobic” in admitting that wide civilizational differences exist today between the West and the Muslim world, or in concluding that they won’t be bridged anytime soon. Nor is it Islamophobic to acknowledge that a certain “cultural segregation” may be inevitable when dealing with Muslim government and societies, including Muslims who want to immigrate to the West and are not willing to adhere to the standards of conduct, like free press, women’s rights, and religious freedom, that are practiced in America and Europe.
At the same time, it’s time for us to abandon the various crusades to liberalize and democratize, reform and remake the Muslim world, and time to base our policies on considerations of national interests, which should exhibit a certain benign neglect and a hands-off approach to the crises that will continue to plague the Middle East in the coming years. It’s a mess out there, but we turn it into a “Peril” only when we think that we have the power and the knowledge to change it.
Leon Hadar, senior analyst at Wikistrat, a geostrategic consulting group, is the author of Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East.
A college professor teaching a course on theories of international relations would not find it hard to prepare for his or her students an anthology of articles or book chapters written by authors representing the major schools of thought in the field. That would hold true for realism or idealism (in their traditional of “neo” versions), liberalism (including “neo” and “post”), or Marxism, or the various alternative approaches such a post-structuralism and post-modernism, as well as efforts to apply feminism or green theory.
So it’s not surprising that our enterprising IR professor, recognizing the extent to which a school of thought known as neoconservatism has shaped American foreign policy in recent decades—even transforming it in a dramatic way through the Iraq War and the Freedom Agenda—would also search for a major work written by a leading neoconservative thinker that could provide the students with a serious and coherent overview of the neoconservative theory of international relations in its most updated version.
Here I have the realist John Mearsheimer, the neo-realist Fareed Zakaria, the idealist Samantha Power, the liberal John Ikenbeary, the Marxist Noam Chomsky, and such works as The Rise and Fall of Great Powers, The End of History, or The Clash of Civilizations. So where is our Great Neoconservative Foreign Policy Thinker and his or her magnum opus?
A historian of American intellectual thought would probably conclude that once there were actually serious neoconservative thinkers like Daniel Bell, Nathan Glaser, Daniel Patrick Moynihan, and Irving Kristol who published original and ground-breaking works on social and economic policy, some of which have become classics in the field.
But when it comes to the field of international relations, neoconservatism has failed to produce any great thinkers, and will instead be remembered for its many pundits and operators, or policy entrepreneurs, who did affect the debate and the crafting of American foreign policy but who have never been able to ground the policies they advanced in any consistent and systemic theoretical framework that could stand the test of time.
One could make the argument that these neoconservative policy entrepreneurs were just a bunch of guys who, during the Cold War, seemed to agree that Washington wasn’t tough enough towards the Soviet Union or friendly enough towards Israel, and since the Cold War ended have been arguing that America needs to establish global dominance (Pax Americana) and control the Middle East, culminating with their push for ousting Saddam Hussein, for occupying Iraq, and for remaking the Middle East. Their policy recommendations came first, and only then did they tried to articulate the reasons why American policymakers should embrace them.
Some of these foreign policy entrepreneurs, like Robert Kagan or Charles Krauthammer, may have been more articulate than others, but much of what they and other neoconservatives have had to say and write about foreign policy has been quite predictable, calling for the exertion of U.S. military power abroad in search of monsters to destroy. And their work was never aimed not at discovering a great new idea in international relations, but rather at providing intellectual ammunition to political allies fighting the “war of ideas” in Washington’s think tanks and green rooms, while maligning political enemies, more often than not as “isolationists”.
From that perspective, Bret Stephens’ America in Retreat: The New Isolationism and the Coming Global Disorder fits the bill as another lightweight neoconservative foreign policy tome with quite a lot of intellectual pretension, if not arrogance, that could have been condensed into a short magazine article or even into an op-ed piece (saving at least this reader some time).
Devoid of any new ideas, America in Retreat recycles old clichés in a confused and misleading way as part of an effort to revive and advance the neoconservative agenda at a time when it seemed (at least for a while) to be in decline, while at the same time bashing and trying to marginalize current and potential enemies of the cause. In this case, those enemies are the supposedly emerging “isolationist” wing in the Republican Party and the conservative movement, and its presumptive leader and potential presidential candidate, Sen. Rand Paul.
Stephens, a Pulitzer Prize-winning deputy page editor of the Wall Street Journal has been promoting these and similar themes in his Global View column in the newspaper, and he tends to employ the same kind of literary devices in the book as in his column, starting with the Great Spin.
According to Stephens, America is retreating from the world. It is abandoning Iraq; withdrawing from Afghanistan; refusing to topple Syria’s Assad; tolerating Russia’s aggression in Ukraine; allowing China to bully its neighbors. These and other examples of weakness and appeasement amount to a rejection of America’s traditional role as the world’s policeman.
Until recently, the view that “we should not be the world’s policeman,” which Stephens equates with “isolationism”, was held mainly by the political left and “found a home in the fringes of the right, particularly among small-government libertarians and latter-day Father Coughlin such as Pat Buchanan.”
But now “isolationism” is gathering support among members of “the mainstream of the conservative movement,” with the upshot being that foreign policy in the United States “is now cutting across traditional divides.” It is no longer “a story of (mostly) Republican hawks versus (mostly) Democratic doves.” According to Stephens, it is now an argument between neoisolationists and internationalists, with “an increasing number of Tea Party and libertarian-leaning Republicans like Senator Rand Paul” joining Democrats and liberals in espousing this neoisolationist creed.
The idealist and moralistic President Barack Obama and his Retreat Doctrine, which “begins as form of prophylactic defense against supposedly inevitable failure, then proceeds to an acquiescence to a world hostile to American interests, values, and long-term security” are supposedly responsible for the “isolationist” drift in Washington and around the country. Since Obama came to office, the global political and economic order have apparently crumbled, creating the conditions for instability and chaos everywhere.
The result is that without the United States playing the role of the world’s policeman, we should expect the Coming Global Disorder, as revisionist powers (Russia, China, Iran) exploit the strategic vacuum being created in “de-Americanized world.” Former U.S. allies that cannot count anymore on American protection (Israel, Saudi Arabia, Japan) are tempted to take matters in their own hand, to “freelance” when they fear that their security is at stake. And “free radicals,” ranging from jihadists with WMDs to Julian Assange and Edward Snowden, “take advantage of the open architecture of the modern world to attack the foundations of the free world.”
The problem with this Great Spin is that it is ahistorical and has nothing to do with reality. Accounting for 42.6 percent of global military spending (as compared to 5.2 percent for China, 3.0 percent from Britain, and 2.2 percent for India) while continuing to maintain its military presence in every corner of the world, Washington, operating with clear bipartisan support, including by Paul, remains committed to activist global interventionist policies.
What Stephens dubs “retreat” and “neoisolationism” are nothing more than a return to normalcy, to the sources of traditional American foreign policy as practiced by Republican and Democratic Presidents since World War II. It was President George W. Bush and his neoconservative advisors who abandoned those principles and decided to launch a costly unilateralist military adventure and war of choice—coupled with a ideological crusade to impose American values worldwide—that ran contrary to U.S. interests and traditions.
In fact, American presidents have never tried to impose a Pax Americana or to embrace the role of the world’s policeman, except perhaps in the Western Hemisphere, but have rather sought to work with its allies in order to protect their common interests, as it did during the Cold War when it shared global power with the Soviet Union, but never considered, for example, deploying military troops to assist freedom fighters.
From that perspective, President Obama, with initial strong support from the American public as well as the backing of many realists on the political right, has decided to abandon the reckless and un-American foreign policy pursued by his predecessor (especially during W.’s first term in office) and to adopt a similar strategy of adjustment and retrenchment that was pursued by Republican Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford—and orchestrated by Henry Kissinger—against the backdrop of the expected U.S. military withdrawal from Vietnam.
Like in the case of Nixon, President Obama’s policies included reassessing U.S. global interests, reducing defense spending, shifting more security responsibilities to allies, and reaching diplomatic deals with adversaries, all while continuing to project and sometime use American military power abroad.
In a way, the cry of betrayal sounded by Japan and other allies in Asia in the face of American withdrawal from Vietnam and the diplomatic opening to China recalls a similar irritation on the part of Saudi Arabia and Israel as President Obama was taking steps to readjust U.S. policy in the Middle East to changing strategic realities, steps such as launching diplomatic negotiations with Iran. What Stephens describes as neoisolationism is the pursuit of nuanced Realpolitik policies.
But in Stephens’ foreign policy universe there is no place for nuance, only crude binarism. His two villains, the alleged critics of his imaginary Pax Americana President Obama and Senator Paul, are compared to two historical figures and former presidential candidates, Democratic Vice President Henry Wallace and Republican Senator Robert Taft of Ohio.
In Stephens’ narrative, when it comes to foreign policy, there is a straight ideological line leading from Wallace (an early critic of U.S. Cold War policies) to Obama, and from Taft (who opposed U.S. entry into World War II) to Paul—with all the four being opponents of Pax Americana and exhibiting those “isolationist”—old and neo—tendencies. But these faulty historical analogies are based on the assumption that al-Qaeda, Saddam’s Iraq, and Iran pose the same level of threat that Nazi Germany, Imperial Japan, and the Soviet Union did, and disregards the differences between the idealist Wallace and the more realist Taft (who by the way were also strong supporters of Zionism and Israel).
More annoying is the way that Stephens deals with his Iraq problem: his failure to resolve the dissonance between his suggestion that his ideological mates, including President Bush, are deep inside actually hardcore realists and the reality of the ambitious Wilsonian Freedom Agenda that Bush and the neoconservatives promoted after 9/11.
In order to resolve this cognitive dissonance, Stephens, in an exercise of mislabeling and historical revisionism, contends that, well, you see, there were actually two Bush Doctrines. There was the Realpolitik Bush-Cheney doctrine that was seeking to “uphold, defend and improve world order, not transform and improve human society” and only wanted to prevent Saddam Hussein from having access to WMDs. And then there was Bush Doctrine II that “promised to work toward the elimination of dictatorships the world over” and that Bush embraced only after it was discovered that there were no WMDs in Iraq.
But anyone who followed the debate in Washington before and after the Iraq War recognizes that the Freedom Agenda and the Wilsonian fantasy of turning Iraq and the Arab World into thriving liberal democracies while disregarding the political and cultural realities of Mesopotamia and the rest of the region, was an integral part of the drive to intervene in Iraq. It had very little to do with Realpolitik, and if anything, ended up harming U.S. (and Israeli) strategic interests by strengthening the power of Iran and its regional satellites.
Stephens doesn’t even try to confront the strategic catastrophe that the neoconservative agenda has created in the Middle East, and instead suggests that it is Obama that has been trying to advance a Bush Doctrine II in the Middle East by embracing the Arab Spring and abandoning Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak. This is a legitimate criticism, but not a very credible one coming from Stephens, who now calls for using military power to depose Syria’s Assad and provide support to his opponents.
But then, America in Retreat, like other neoconservative foreign policy literature, isn’t supposed to make sense since it’s not based on any clear elucidation of how the world works and how to deal with it other than arguing for the need to show “resolve” and militarily threaten anyone who doesn’t share America’s values and interests (as defined by Stephens and Co).
In fact, by the time the book came out, many of its assumptions had already been overrun by events like the emergence of ISIS that actually played into the hands of the pro-interventionists in Washington, or the plunge in oil prices that weakened revisionist powers like Iran and Russia. Actually, much of what the book argues has not been overrun by reality; it never corresponded to it in the first place.
Leon Hadar, senior analyst at Wikistrat, a geostrategic consulting group, is the author of Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East.
Reflecting on the close historical relationship between the United States and the United Kingdom, we tend to recall the personal bonds between Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Winston Churchill—who was the first to use the phrase “Special Relationship” in a speech in 1946; the comradeship between the conservative giants Ronald Reagan and Margret Thatcher; and more recently, the military adventure in Mesopotamia that brought together George W. Bush and Tony Blair.
And then there was “the remarkable friendship” between John F. Kennedy and Harold Macmillan, as British-American author Christopher Sandford describes the relationship between one of the most famous American presidents and one of the less well-known British prime ministers in his new book, Harold and Jack.
There is no denying that FDR and Churchill were the West’s co-leaders in the alliance that defeated Nazi Germany in World War II. Or that Reagan and Thatcher both presided over historic free-market reforms in the 1980s and worked together to end the Cold War. And while Blair may have been ridiculed as Bush’s “poodle,” it’s difficult to imagine a history of the Iraq War without the former British PM being portrayed as American president’s leading partner in the campaign to oust Saddam Hussein. But Harold—who?—and Jack?
At times there is a hint of historical revisionism in Sandford’s work. He creates the impression that through some sort of osmosis that developed during the brief three years of their relationship, Macmillan ended up acquiring some of the global power, if not grandeur, of JFK; and that, like Churchill, Thatcher, and Blair, Harold Macmillan ensured that the special relationship remained special.
When we recall the two dramatic international crises of the 1960s that could have triggered a third world war between the United States and the Soviet Union—the Berlin Crisis of 1961 and the Cuban missile episode in 1962—scenes from old newsreels bring to mind the roles performed by President Kennedy, his brother Robert, and other advisors: the game of chicken that Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev played in Berlin, the late-night deliberations of the members of JFK’s Executive Committee (EXCOMM) of the National Security Council during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the secret rendezvous between Bobby and Soviet emissaries. Does anyone see a Harold in those pictures?
In a kind of literary photoshopping, Sandford attempts to place Macmillan at the fore of these historical narratives about the days that shook the world, suggesting that Harold was an integral part of these cinematic black-and-white scenes from the 1960s. Forget Jack and Bobby. It’s the Kennedy-Macmillan team—Jack and Harold—who turn out to be “The Men Who Saved the World,” as the title of one of the book’s chapters puts it.
But while Sandford, after conducting extensive research into the private communications between the two leaders (including birthday greetings), does an excellent job in providing us a lively account of the personal ties between Kennedy and Macmillan, he fails to substantiate his thesis that this friendship had any major impact on the strategic relationship between the United States and the Union Kingdom—or for that matter on the outcome of the crises in Berlin and Cuba.
Indeed, there is something contrived in Sandford’s attempt to elevate Macmillan’s role in these and other events. At times, it seems that he gets lost in his own narrative and crashes into the inevitable cognitive dissonance. Personal ties don’t always make a difference when it comes to national interests.
In fact, Sandford’s account of the Cuban missile crisis suggests that Macmillan’s role in the drama was “passive” and “supine” and that Britain, which had an arsenal of Soviet nuclear missiles pointed at it, had become “a wholly-owned subsidiary [of] American interests,” as then Labour leader Huge Gaitskell described it.
Hence while the White House decided to send the legendary ex-Secretary of State Dean Acheson to brief French President Charles de Gaulle on U.S. strategy in the crisis, it assigned U.S. ambassador to London David Bruce to deal with Macmillan, with Jack exchanging messages with Harold—“schmoozing” would probably be the appropriate term—and the British PM serving only as friendly sounding-board to the American president.
In fact, Kennedy didn’t consult Macmillan for the first five days of the crisis, and while he had promised that he would send him the text of his televised address to the nation, the draft arrived just seven hours before the president delivered it. “I can’t honestly think of anything said from London that changed US action—it was chiefly reassurance to JFK,” admitted British ambassador, and Jack’s pal, David Ormsby-Gore.
There was certainly nothing very Churchillian in the way Macmillan operated during the earlier Berlin crisis, when he tended to press Kennedy to be conciliatory towards Khrushchev while the American president, according to Sandford, reacted “more robustly” to the Soviet moves. Macmillan’s performance during the crisis demonstrated that “Britain may have played the role of a branch of office of the US headquarters when it came to Berlin and to other pressing foreign policy issues,” Sandford concludes, adding that under Macmillan Britain nevertheless proved to be “an unusually, well-informed and outspoken subordinate.”
Indeed, the personal closeness between the two heads of government could not reverse the changing realities of the relationship between their nations since the end of World War II, as Britain entered an age of decline, losing its status as a great power, while the United States emerged as one of the two global superpowers of the new age. What was once imagined to be an equal partnership between two leading world powers was looking more and more like a relationship between a global hegemon and its mostly subservient sidekick across the Atlantic.
Macmillan, who had served as foreign secretary and chancellor of the exchequer under Churchill’s successor as prime minister, Anthony Eden, was able to observe closely the erosion in Britain’s global power and its growing economic and military dependence on the United States. Reflecting the changes in the balance of power, President Eisenhower and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles (known for his animosity towards the Brits), forced Britain and its allies France and Israel to end their military operation against Egypt during the Suez Crisis of 1956, in part by threatening to sell some of the U.S. government’s sterling bond holdings—imagine the Chinese threatening to sell their U.S. dollar assets today—and by denying the Brits financial assistance from the International Monetary Fund (IMF).
After Eden resigned as prime minister in 1957, Macmillan succeeded him in office and recognized the need to readjust Britain’s goals according to the altered realities of international power, with a policy of diplomatic military retrenchment. As Macmillan summarized it, the main lesson of Suez was that Britain should “not again be allowed to find [itself] on the wrong side of a major policy dispute” with Washington.
The British Empire was no more, and Macmillan wanted to ensure that as its sun set what remained of its international-security role in the Middle East and elsewhere passed to the Americans and that Britain could rely on its former colony across the Atlantic as a protector of last resort. So no more British challenges to American hegemony, like the costly Suez Crisis.
From this perspective, Macmillan’s main contribution was his success in choreographing Britain’s decline as a great power. Britain, as he feared, was coming to be little more, in Sandford’s words, than “an offshore 51st State and subordinate vassal to American interests.” Macmillan was doing his best to make sure that no one would notice: he advanced a narrative under which it appeared as though Great Britain was guiding the United States in the same way that the Greeks had the Romans, his favorite historical analogy.
Macmillan had hoped to reshape the Special Relationship by promoting a plan to form an “Atlantic Community” based on the partnership between the United States and continental Europe, with Britain serving as a bridge of sort between the two entities. The problem was that neither the Americans nor the Europeans were in need of the British “bridge” and regarded it in some respects an irritating obstacle to improving their direct relations.
In fact, Kennedy and his advisors as well as French President de Gaulle, the driving force behind European unity, concluded that there was a contradiction between Macmillan’s goal of achieving “equivalence” of policy between London and Washington and his ambition to have Britain in the European Economic Community (EEC)—the forerunner to the European Union—while at the same time maintaining Britain’s role as an independent global power.
The contradiction was exposed during a major breakdown in U.S.-British relations. The Skybolt Crisis was named after the American Skybolt missile system that President Eisenhower had promised to sell to the Brits to help them build an independent nuclear program but which Kennedy’s secretary of defense, Robert McNamara, decided to cancel because he didn’t want Britain to have such nuclear-arms independence. As McNamara put it, “limited nuclear capabilities, operating independently, are dangerous, expensive, prone to obsolescence and lacking in credibility as a deterrent.”
In addition to concerns over nuclear proliferation, the Americans were worried about a repeat of Suez. With its own nuclear weapons, London would feel secure to act independently but would not be able to deter Soviet attacks, forcing the United States to intervene to protect Britain.
In responding to the Skybolt controversy, former Secretary of State Dean Acheson, who served as one of Kennedy’s foreign-policy advisors, caused a stir when he challenged the strategic significance of Great Britain to the United States during a West Point address in 1962, arguing that “Great Britain has lost an empire and has not yet found a role.”
Indeed, he ridiculed Britain’s quest to play a power role based on the Special Relationship with the United States and being the head of the British Commonwealth, which “has no political structure, or unity, or strength and enjoys a fragile and precarious economic relationship” with Britain itself. Acheson urged the UK to adjust to the changing international system under which she was becoming a second-rate power by joining the evolving European economic and political union instead of trying to continue pursuing the Special Relationship with Washington.
The crisis was eventually resolved when Macmillan and Kennedy met in the Bahamas on December 22, 1962, and concluded on an agreement under which the United States would provide the British with a supply of nuclear-capable Polaris missiles which would be part of a “multilateral force” within the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and could be used independently only when “supreme national interests” were involved.
The crisis and its outcome demonstrated to de Gaulle—who was trying to chart a strategic course for French-led Europe independent from both the United States and the Soviet Union—that Britain remained an American outpost, which was one of the reasons he decided to veto British membership in the EEC.
At the same time, U.S. officials were dismayed that the Nassau Agreement meant “their having to attune American policy to a Great Britain that was semi-detached from the rest of Europe,” according to Sandford, with Secretary of State Dean Rusk touting the “policy advantages of moving away from a ‘special relationship’ and towards a monolithic ‘system of … strict non-favoritism’ to America’s NATO allies.”
Sandford contends that Kennedy’s decision to sell Polaris as a replacement for the cancelled Skybolt reflected his personal commitment to saving the Special Relationship. “Only Kennedy himself consistently saw the trans-Atlantic partners as bound together by more powerful ties of shared history and friendship,” Sandford concludes—perhaps with too much certainty—based on his examination of the relationship between the two countries and the friendship between their leaders that lasted less than three years.
Macmillan was forced to resign from office in October 1963, in the aftermath of the sex scandal involving his defense minister, John Profumo. A month later, President Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas by Lee Harvey Oswald.
That the Special Relationship has survived in one form or another after Harold and Jack were not around, and despite all the dramatic changes in the global balance of power since then, points perhaps to the persistence of myths, in this case, Macmillan’s characterization of “the Special Relationship” as being between “our Greece” and “their Rome.” Perhaps, as the late Christopher Hitchens suggested, “it will be a splendid thing if, showing that countries can after all learn from history, the United States decided to become less Roman, and the British decided to become more Greek, and both rediscovered republican virtues in a world without conquerors.”
Public opinion is volatile, shifting erratically in response to the most recent developments at home and abroad, argued American political philosopher Walter Lippmann as he studied the American public’s attitudes on issues of war and peace during the first part of the 20th century.
Analyzing the dramatic shifts in American opinion toward possible U.S. intervention in the war in Europe in the early 1940s—from an isolationist mood to a pro-war sentiments—Lippmann observed that the public tended to be “too pacifist in peace and too bellicose in war, too neutralist or appeasing in negotiations or too intransigent.”
Not unlike George Kennan and other proponents of a Realpolitik approach to international relations, Lippmann concluded that the domain of foreign policy making should be in the hands of an educated and skilled elite—what we now refer to as the Foreign Policy Establishment—and that the masses should not be allowed to intrude into the business of managing U.S. relationship with the rest of the world.
When it comes to foreign policy, the job of the Best and the Brightest, and that included the elite press to which Lippmann belonged, should be to “educate”—read: manipulate—the public to support the decisions by the government to go to war or to make peace.
Anyone who examined the recent dramatic shifts in the American public attitudes towards military intervention abroad would have to concur with Lippmann’s observations about the volatility of American public opinion.
Indeed, the proverbial Man from Mars who only a year ago would return from a visit to the United States concluding that American people were exhausted of fighting never-ending wars in the Middle East and elsewhere, would clearly be surprised to discover during a more recent excursion to this country that Americans are now in a warmongering mood.
Even more amazing has been the transformation of the America public’s attitudes towards President Barack Obama’s foreign policy agenda. For more than four years, it seemed that the views on war and peace shared by the Democratic White House occupant who had run for office in 2008 blasting President George W. Bush’s decision to go to war in Iraq, were aligned with those of the general public. And that the bellicose interventionist positions of leading Republicans like Sen. John McCain have become quite passé and so out of touch of the let’s-mind-our-business sentiments of a clear majority of Americans. Sen. Rand Paul, with his skepticism about the cost-effectiveness of U.S. military interventions, was riding high as the Republican alternative to McCain.
It would be an exaggeration to describe Obama as an antiwar president. His rhetoric and occasionally his policies—the decision to use force to oust Libya’s Muammar Qaddafi comes to mind—reflected the liberal internationalist and pro-humanitarian intervention views of leading Democrats, including those serving in his administration.
But in many ways, President Obama’s earlier decision not to use military force against the regime of Syria’s Bashar Assad and to embrace a deal advanced by Russia to disarm Syria of its chemical weapons was seen at the time as almost historic. The White House rejecting pressures from both the members of the foreign policy establishment, not to mention the McCain Republicans, as well as from allies abroad, including the Europeans, the Saudis, and the Israelis, to deploy U.S. military power—while enjoying the support of most Americans for the decision.
But that was then. As Americans (or some of them) are preparing to cast their ballots in the midterm elections, one of the most intriguing findings observed by pollsters has been that the reason why many voters would support Republicans candidates on Election Day was that the perception that President Obama was “weak” on foreign policy and that the GOP would prove to be more effective in responding to foreign threats, including the forces of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS), a more assertive foreign policy being pursued by Russian President Vladimir Putin, and even the Ebola epidemic.
The conventional wisdom has been that the images of the beheading of two American journalists by an ISIS executioner as well as those of the numerous atrocities committed by the group may have brought about the dramatic changes in public attitudes.
Indeed, such changes don’t have to be triggered by traumatic events as the attack on Pearl Harbor or 9/11. The botched attempt by President Jimmy Carter in 1980 to rescue the 52 diplomats held captive at the American Embassy in Tehran, and the ensuing humiliating public debacle which damaged U.S. global prestige, played a major role in stirring the political backlash against Carter.
The beheading of the two journalists that was seen as part of a ineffectual response by the Obama administration to the rise of ISIS has made it easier for McCain Republicans and the rest of Washington’s warrior class to “Carterize” Obama. That both presidents had also to deal with aggressive moves by Moscow—then in Afghanistan, now in Ukraine—not to mention their miserable economic record is helping to perpetuate the Obama-is-Carter analogy.
It would be interesting to speculate what would have happened if President Obama—or for that matter, Senator Paul in the context of the debate among Republicans and conservatives—would have signaled earlier on a complete break with the reigning foreign policy consensus instead of offering a few attempts at modifying it.
For example, neither of the two has called for a reassessment of American policy in the Middle East, in terms of our engagement there and our strategic commitments. Why are we there and should we continue to be there? That the United States should continue to be involved there was accepted as a given by both Obama and Paul, with the debate centering only on the means available to maintain U.S. role there. To give aid to the Syrian rebels or not? Boots on the ground in Iraq or not? To revive or not to revive the “peace process?”
At the end of the day, without a reexamination of the U.S. role in the Middle East (or in Eastern Europe or in East Asia), foreign policy inertia sets in as American engagement—including the media coverage that follows it—helps create the conditions for more escalation, including American casualties, provoking more belligerent attitudes among Americans.
So it’s not surprising that the demand in the market of Republican politics will be now for an assertive foreign policy figure a la Ronald Reagan. And yes, I know that in reality Reagan was more accommodative on foreign policy issues than either critics or supporters give him credit. But the fact remains that his message when he ran for office was very hawkish.
That doesn’t mean that we should expect a resurgence of the neoconservative/ Wilsonian school of thought. Most Americans, including members of the foreign policy establishment, have given up on the idea of nation building in, and exporting democracy to, the Middle East. So my guess is that we are going to see more of President Bush I’s Realpolitik types in any Republican administration, and less of President Bush II’s crusaders. But the hopes for the kind of a new foreign policy that some libertarians and conservatives were yearning for have been dashed.
During Israel’s recent war with Hamas, which took place at the same time as the Islamic State in Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) was conducing its barbaric campaign in Mesopotamia and the Levant, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu hoped to score a few points with Americans and other Westerners by equating the Palestinian Islamist movement ruling the Gaza Strip with the radical Sunni forces leading a Caliphate in Iraq and Syria.
But if the communist regimes and movements didn’t constitute a monolithic bloc during the Cold War, the West isn’t facing a unified Islamist force today. There are various shades of green, ranging from the quasi-medieval ISIS terrorists to the Muslim Brotherhood, not to mention the divisions between Sunnis and Shiites.
Hamas is an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood that promotes a nationalist and Islamist Palestinian agenda, and while it’s not exactly “like” ISIS, it does represent the way Islam is being utilized now an identity and as a political-military force: Arab Sunnis fighting Shi’ites and Westerners in Iraq and Syria; Arab Sunnis combating Jews in Israel/Palestine.
And in both cases, these Islamist groups, reflecting the religious fanaticism of their members, including a willingness to die as suicide bombers for their cause, pose a major challenge to Western leaders and publics in an age dominated by the secular and non-ideological middle-class consumer who wants to live—not to die—for his or her country.
To put it differently, Western leaders are reluctant to send their citizens to fight individuals and groups who subscribe to a set of values and a code of behavior that seem to originate in an atavistically pre-modern age. Deploying ground troops to occupy Arab lands is not only costly in terms of blood and treasure directly expended, it’s also not cost-effective if you conclude that it would be close to impossible to win the hearts and minds of the local population. Muhammad (in his many sectarian and tribal shapes) will always beat Locke in the war of ideas.
To employ the terms President Barack Obama used in his televised address on Wednesday, we may have the power to “crush” these guys, but you probably don’t the capability and will to entirely “destroy” them.
In a way, the decisions of then-Prime Minister Israel Ariel Sharon to withdraw Israeli troops unilaterally from the Gaza Strip in 2005 and of President Obama to end the American occupation of Iraq in 2011—and to refrain from re-invading these areas again—reflect similar calculations.
Both Israel in the Gaza Strip and the United States in Iraq had the military resources to continue occupying these respective Arab territories. But the Israeli and American publics were not willing to pay the costs in terms of human lives of maintaining a military presence in the midst of a hostile Arab population (which in Gaza had elected Hamas and in Baghdad brought to power an Islamist Shi’ite leader).
When one considers the angry reactions by the Israelis to the launching of missiles by Hamas into Israel and by the Americans to the beheading of the two U.S. journalists by ISIS, it’s important to recall that both decisions—to pull out from Gaza and from Iraq—enjoyed wide public support. The assumption was that military power would serve as a deterrent against potential aggressors in the future and that the Israelis and the Americans could control the situation on the ground through some sort of remote control.
One of the most astounding turning points in the recent Israel-Hamas war was the decision by the Israeli government—the most nationalist in the country’s history—not to fully re-invade the Gaza Strip despite repeated pledges by Prime Minister Netanyahu to destroy Hamas’s “terrorist infrastructure.”
The reason that there was no Israeli version of Sherman’s March to the Sea in Gaza—or for that matter, no World War II-like calls for Hamas’s “unconditional surrender”—was due not only to the high costs of such a campaign but also the conclusion by Israeli leaders and generals that in the Gaza Strip—unlike in the post-Civil War South or in post-WWII Germany—the defeated and conquered population would not be ready under any conditions to be co-opted into some Israeli post-war settlement, even one that included outside financial reconstruction assistance.
Why? For the same reason that the population of Gaza would probably re-elect Hamas if elections were held there today. For the same reason that the American invasion of Iraq and the Freedom Agenda resulted in the rise to power of sectarian forces and not liberal groups in Iraq, Lebanon, and Palestine. For the same reason that the Muslim Brotherhood and not the young Facebook revolutionaries ended up winning the first free elections in Egypt—and that the military eventually returned to power in Cairo.
East is East, and West is West, and there is no reason to believe that the twain shall meet anytime soon. Much of the Arab World is moving in the Islamist direction and rejects the notion of Western hegemony both as a value system and as a set of political goals. Arabs are willing to cooperate with the United States when it comes to advancing their military and economic interests. But that’s about it.
Most Israelis have given up by now on the notion that they will be able to reach a Kantian “peace” with the Palestinians—like the one that exists between Germany and France or the United States—in the near future, especially as Islamist groups like Hamas, which at best are willing to accept the idea of short-term coexistence with Israel, are gaining the upper hand in Palestine and elsewhere.
And now the Israeli modus operandi that became obvious during the war in Gaza—using Israel’s technological edge and superior air power to “crush” Hamas (a term that Netanyahu used quite frequently during the military campaign) while cooperating with local partners (Egypt, in the case of Israel) to pressure and isolate the enemy and create a more favorable balance of power—may become the model for American military operations on Iraq and Syria in the coming years.
So if you cannot—or are not willing to—defeat them, then “crush” them with drones, missiles, and air power, and try through ad-hoc cooperation with the occasional partner (the Jordanians), proxy (the Kurds), and even rival (Iran) to put pressure on the enemy du jour (al-Qaeda; ISIS). In the make-believe world of spin and media, in the meantime, try to market the outcome of your policies as military wins and pretend that all of this will create the conditions for a diplomatic solution. At best, it will tilt the balance of power in your favor; at a minimum, it will help maintain the status quo and contain the perceived threat.
Notwithstanding all the fancy rhetoric, this is the Obama “strategy” to fight ISIS: no grand designs for democracy-promotion or nation-building, not even the expectation that the Middle East is entering into an age of freedom, prosperity, and peace under American leadership. Just a lot of “crushing” to do: the defeating is being left to the Iraqis, the Kurds, the Turks, and the Saudis.
But as Israel’s war against Hamas has demonstrated, such a policy carries a lot of risks, ranging from the inevitable collateral damage to innocent civilians to the possibility of a soldier or pilot falling into enemy hands or terrorist attacks against your military or civilians, possibly even the homeland.
And when that happens, the pressure grows to do more “somethings,” including the deployment of ground troops with the aim of forcing the enemy to surrender. And before you know it, a war that wasn’t supposed to be a war becomes real.
Foreign-policy experts and pundits in Washington are up in arms, ready to go to war—that is, send someone else to fight in the Middle East—and cannot believe that President Obama is resisting their call to defeat the Islamic State (ISIS) by expanding U.S. airstrikes against ISIS targets from Iraq to Syria.
Even worse from the perspective of the warmongers has been Obama’s admission that he doesn’t even have a plan. “We don’t have a strategy yet,” he said during a White House news conference, in what was seen as a message of sorts to the op-ed writers, cable-news talking heads, and blogosphere warriors.
“Folks are getting a little further ahead of where we’re at,” he said. “The suggestions seems to have been we’re about to go full-scale on some elaborate strategy for defeating ISIS and the suggestion has been we’ll start moving forward imminently and somehow with Congress still out of town, they’ll be left in the dark. That’s not going to happen.” Ouch!
As expected, the response to the president’s comments from Washington’s gung-ho press has been devastating, ranging from the suggestions that Obama made a “gaffe” to accusations that he was failing to project leadership and stand up to America’s enemies in the aftermath of the horrific beheading of American journalist James Foley by ISIS.
The Washington Post‘s veteran national security correspondent Karen DeYoung, a long-time proponent of U.S. intervention in the Syrian civil war, published a front-page story that quoted numerous unnamed sources in Washington and the Middle East bashing Obama for his no-strategy comments and calling on Washington to go to war.
“When a superpower, the superpower, is reluctant in developing policy, it’s not only about leadership, it’s about having a coherent approach to crises,” DeYoung quoted a Middle Eastern official as saying, before turning to another who stated that, “The ball is in the U.S. court.”
In case you were wondering why the proverbial ball was not in the courts of such regional military powers as happen to be the neighbors of Iraq and Syria, like Turkey and Saudi Arabia, DeYoung explained that all the Middle Eastern officials she interviewed, “expressed an eagerness to follow the U.S. lead in Syria, including, in some cases, possible participation in airstrikes against the Islamic State, should that be Obama’s decision.” That’s nice.
And apropos of U.S. military intervention in Syria, these same Middle Eastern officials have repeatedly expressed concern to DeYoung over the past three years of Syria’s civil war “at what they’ve seen as administration reluctance to assert strong leadership in support of moderate rebels battling the forces of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.”
This is the same Assad who regards ISIS as a major threat to Syria—where the militant Sunni radicals already control some territory—and to the alliance of secular Alawites, Kurds, and Christians that he leads. As for “moderate rebels,” how about members of the al-Nusra Front, an al-Qaeda offshoot in Syria that is fighting both Assad and ISIS? They also happen to be U.S. terrorist list. And in any case, isn’t there a danger that arms supplied to the Syrian rebels could fall into the hands of ISIS, in the same way that American weapons that had been supplied to the Iraqi army are now part of ISIS’s arsenal?
The “strategy” that Obama’s critics are daydreaming about seems to be based on the illusion that American military action is bound to create incentives for collective action on the part of regional players who supposedly regard ISIS as a common threat. If you bomb Syria, the members of this alliance-in-the-making will come together and defeat ISIS.
What’s wrong with this picture? The fact is that, like an amoeba that takes different shapes and forms as it reproduces and replicates itself, ISIS has evolved as an extension of radical Sunni groups, including al-Qaeda, that emerged in opposition to the American invasion of Iraq and, later on, to the Iran-backed Shi’ite government in Baghdad, as well as growing out of the insurgent groups fighting Assad in Syria.
The group, or some of its members in different incarnations, have received direct and indirect assistance from the Saudis (who are opposed to the Shi’ite government in Baghdad as well as to the Alawite regime in Damascus) and the Turks (who were friendly with Assad before they became his enemy). And let’s not forget that ISIS has adopted Saudi Arabia’s strain of Wahhabi Islam, not to mention the Saudi’s favorite form of execution, beheading.
As long as such regional actors think they can safely fuel the fire, they will. But they’re started to get burned, and only that may to change their behavior. The real threat that ISIS poses now to its former benefactors in Riyadh and Ankara is not so much its challenge to the Enlightenment project as the challenge to the region’s political status quo that would result from carving up Iraq and Syria and the creation of an ISIS-led “Caliphate.” This also amounts to a direct threat to the rulers in Baghdad and Syria and their partners in Tehran, but ironically doesn’t come as such bad news to the Kurds, who desire the establishment of an independent state and could probably co-exist with the ISIS Caliphate if it would them alone.
President Obama, to his credit, recognizes this complex reality and as leader of a status-quo power is willing to provide some limited assistance to the regional players if and when they get their act together, contain ISIS, and secure the territorial integrity of both Syria and Iraq. (This could actually prove to be bad news for the pro-partition Kurds.) This would require a stable central government in Baghdad and isn’t going to work if the Assad regime collapses. In fact, it might require some cooperation with Assad and his Iranian patrons, who are regarded by our online warriors as targets for regime changes.
So when former Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki proved to be an obstacle to the establishment of an all-inclusive government, Obama refrained from taking unilateral action against him and instead allowed the Iranians, with the support of the Saudis, to choreograph his replacement by another Shi’ite figure. And much of the American military power so far deployed has been utilized to avoid a humanitarian crisis and defeat of the Kurdish forces. These limited steps make sense in the context of U.S. interests. A wider American military intervention, including the deployment of ground troops, would only provide disincentives to the regional players to act responsibly and use their own resources as part of an ad hoc partnership to defeat ISIS. It may not be a grand strategy, but it sends a clear message to the regional powers and their cheerleaders in Washington that the United States is not going to do their job for them.