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A Rejoinder to Anne-Marie Slaughter
June 18, 2014

Anne-Marie Slaughter argues that America should enter the fighting in Syria and Iraq. In doing so, she argues that there is little distinction between strategic interests and humanitarian impulses. I’m personally, fearfully, sympathetic towards some assistance to the Iraq state in denying ISIS control of whole cities. But Slaughter’s cosmology is truly startling.

In an article that begins in self-pity, and ends in glib counter-factuals, she makes it all sound so simple.

Here goes:

FOR the last two years, many people in the foreign policy community, myself included, have argued repeatedly for the use of force in Syria — to no avail.

That’s because many people in the rest of the American community, who don’t enjoy the privilege of defining themselves in such exalted terms, think that weighing in to a brutal conflict between an authoritarian regime and an Islamist-infested rebellion isn’t smart.

We have been pilloried as warmongers and targeted, by none other than President Obama, as people who do not understand that force is not the solution to every question. A wiser course, he argued at West Point, is to use force only in defense of America’s vital interests.

Slaughter has been pilloried as a warmonger because she is one. A warmonger is someone who is eager for a nation to go to war. She has called for the America use of force in Rwanda, Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya and Syria, and now for Iraq again. Many of these campaigns have not been triumphs. Her self-pity now doesn’t change that.

At West Point, Obama judged that ‘to say that we have an interest in pursuing peace and freedom beyond our borders is not to say that every problem has a military solution. Since World War II, some of our most costly mistakes came not from our restraint but from our willingness to rush into military adventures without thinking through the consequences, without building international support and legitimacy for our action, without leveling with the American people about the sacrifices required.’ But even this, apparently, offends Slaughter.

This is where the White House is most blind. It sees the world on two planes: the humanitarian world of individual suffering, where no matter how heart-rending the pictures and how horrific the crimes, American vital interests are not engaged because it is just people; and the strategic world of government interests, where what matters is the chess game of one leader against another, and stopping both state and nonstate actors who are able to harm the United States.

In fact, the two planes are inextricably linked. When a government begins to massacre its own citizens, with chemical weapons, barrel bombs and starvation, as Syria’s continues to do, it must be stopped. If it is not stopped, violence, displacement and fanaticism will flourish.

Let’s just stop the tape, right there. Slaughter isn’t just saying that America sometimes should use force prudently where and when it can, selectively and judiciously. As she formulates it, every time a government commits atrocities against its own citizens, it ‘must be stopped.’ Since the world is a large place, and since there are more than a few authoritarian regimes about, this inescapably would implicate the US, and condemn it to endless war. Robert Mugabe violently oppresses his citizens in unspeakable ways. All sorts of regimes use starvation as a weapon, and the North Korean regime has with-held food from those it deems disloyal. A brutal civil war raged for years in Sri Lanka. Must all these regimes ‘be stopped?’

Secondly, civil wars can indeed create ‘violence, displacement and fanaticism.’ But so indeed can well-intended, liberal interventions by a benign superpower to arrest disorder, the kinds of constabulary efforts Slaughter calls for. Slaughter’s blindness to the chaos that our own efforts can fuel points to the main problem in her world view: the West is bringer of order into chaos, not the unwitting cause of chaos except when it passes on fighting wars Slaughter advocates.

Just in case you doubt this, have a look at the Show So Far in Libya, after the ‘textbook’ intervention there brought the rebellion to power. Mass incarceration and torture of black Africans, mounting chaos with a state that can barely govern against militias, the disruption of oil production.

Third, Slaughter repeats the never-ending cliche that any disorder, any violence, any displacement, any fanaticism, is a security threat to the United States, which must therefore perpetually tame the world back into order. This is quite untrue. In a world darkened in some places by any or all of these things, Americans are more likely to be injured falling off ladders than in a terrorist attack, which incidentally were more common in the 1970’s that today. Most first world countries are not deeply threatened by eruptions just anywhere. And as Daryl Press and Eugene Gholz have shown, even when world economics are interdependent, hard cases show how well states can adapt and even prosper while others fight wars. The ability of other states to flourish even during the Iran-Iraq war is a case in point. Contrary to the spirit of Slaughter’s liberal imperialism, actually not everything is deeply connected, and security is divisible.

None of this is a reason to dismiss these events – giving aid generously is a decent response where one can. But Slaughter refuses to recognize any gap, enthusiastically conflating humanitarian crisis with a clear and present danger. Ultimately, for her America’s security interests are universal and limitless, so its little surprise that she tirelessly urges Washington to reach for its gun.

Deciding that the Syrian government, as bad as it is, was still better than the alternative of ISIS profoundly missed the point. As long as we allow the Syrian government to continue perpetrating the worst campaign of crimes against humanity since Rwanda, support for ISIS will continue. As long as we choose Prime Minister Maliki over the interests of his citizens, all his citizens, his government can never be safe.

Well, the fall of the Syrian government would probably unleash horrific atrocities, just as the unseating of Saddam Hussein opened up a vacuum of communal bloodletting, crime and sectarian conflict which is again raging. The fate of the Christian minority of Syria would probably be dark.

Also, notice Slaughter’s hubristic language. Things only happen because ‘we’ ‘allow’ them to, and politics evolves in Iraq because ‘we’ prioritise Maliki over his people. It just couldn’t be, could it, that there are real limits on American power.  In other words, despite all evidence to the contrary, America’s power is vast in a region that it can shape almost at will.

The answer to those questions may well involve the use of force on a limited but immediate basis, in both countries. 

A ‘limited and immediate’ basis, how comfortingly surgical, again the illusion of control. Remember the war in Kosovo, which Slaughter is about to cite approvingly, as the supposedly swift bombing campaign that ended up dragging on for 78 days? Remember the invasion of Iraq that was supposed to be a rapid demonstration of overwhelming force?

Enough force to remind all parties that we can, from the air, see and retaliate against not only Al Qaeda members, whom our drones track for months, but also any individuals guilty of mass atrocities and crimes against humanity. Enough force to compel governments and rebels alike to the negotiating table. And enough force to create a breathing space in which decent leaders can begin to consolidate power.

This is a broad net indeed, cast over a target-rich environment. If our mandate is to retaliate against ‘any individuals guilty of mass atrocities and crimes against humanity’, like murder, torture or dispossession,  it is time to turn our guns on the Egyptian military regime, the Maliki regime, Hezbollah, Assad, ISIS, Iran, the Mahdi Army, Israeli settlers, Hamas, or the house of Saud. This, you can be confident, would not create a space for the ‘decent leaders’ to do anything much. But in Slaughter’s world view, where others’ violence is unacceptably threatening, American violence just creates space for dialogue, or brings down justice from the skies. There are not difficult tradeoffs, no dilemmas, no tragic problems in Slaughter’s ‘How to Do it’ guide to international relations. Just one large harmony of interests, that AJP Taylor warned of years ago.

On the legal side, we should act in both countries because we face a threat to global peace and security, precisely the situation the United Nations Security Council was established to address. If nations like Russia and China block action for their own narrow interests, we should act multilaterally, as we did in Kosovo, and then seek the Council’s approval after the fact. The United Nations Charter was created for peace among the people of the world, not as an instrument of state power.

Well, hell’s bell’s, I thought acting legally included only using force against other sovereign states with the prior approval of the UNSC, unless strict self-defence was established.Kosovo, by the way, wasn’t such a model of superb interventionism. It helped ensure that lots of Serbians would be wiped out in revenge reprisals by the KLA. But Slaughter claims the US and its allies enjoy a privilege that other UN members don’t, of overriding the letter of the law when it suits them, or claiming it retro-actively. The UN Charter was not just created ‘for peace among the people of the world’, a cause Slaughter has a funny way of pursuing. It was also created to enshrine the principle of sovereignty, and to oppose the ‘scourge of war.’ Again, there are no difficult choices in Slaughter’s account. The UN was designed to suit liberal values, she reckons, so state sovereignty be damned.

Strangely enough, other states can invoke the same principle Slaughter embraces, and wage their own wars to protect endangered peoples when it suits them. The very cavalier doctrine Slaughter supports – do what you feel is right and worry about procedure later – enables the thing she claims to oppose, namely cynical and selective realpolitik. As it happens, I am skeptical about international law as a concept. But precisely because of the evasion and have-it-both-ways hypocrisy that its members exhibit, and which Slaughter indulges in.

This is not merely a humanitarian calculation. It is a strategic calculation. One that, if the president had been prepared to make it two years ago, could have stopped the carnage spreading today in Syria and in Iraq.

I’m not sure weighing into Syria militarily could have done much to avert carnage, and certainly not at acceptable cost. Besides, strategy is about limits – the limits of power and knowledge, the need to align goals and scarce resources, the need to rank interests and set priorities, and a prudent regard for how difficult it is to make war serve policy, not just serve itself. Calculations that estimate that a superpower has almost godlike capacity, and limitless interests, are not successfully strategic. They reflect narcissism, still preached by an unreflective ‘community’ of establishment hawks that still believes in waging perpetual war for perpetual peace.

 

D-Day
June 12, 2014

 

D-DayWe remember D-Day as a heroic assault on a strongly defended coast. At the cost of over 4000 Allied lives, the invaders won a foothold that began the rollback of the Nazis from Western Europe. We remember this as a bloody success that was worth the price – a marked contrast to our memory of futile offensives of the First World War.

But D-Day could have been a disaster. Breaching Hitler’s Atlantic Wall was only possible because of deception on a grand scale, making Hitler believe the true assault was coming somewhere else, because of overwhelming air and maritime power that had been won at terrible cost, because of vast logistical buildup, and because of a break in the weather. It took cumulative victories elsewhere, trickery, and luck.

So even successes that look inevitable in hindsight actually were a near run thing. On several occasions in recent times, we have waged wars presuming they would be easy, believing it was a matter of will above all. But capacity, competence and fortune also play their part. There’s more to victory than faith in the cause.

Great Writing on the Myths of Empire and the Roots of Realism
May 22, 2014

Successive crises in Ukraine, the Senkakus and Syria have inspired some great writing, including:

Peter Beinart on credibility anxiety;

Michael Cohen on the false notion that America is in retreat;

the surprisingly liberal origins of the term Realpolitik in the modern age, as the pursuit of ‘liberal, enlightened goals in a world that does not follow liberal, enlightened rules; and how to ensure political and social progress in an unstable and unpredictable environment.’

Worth a read!

 

Arguing about Thucydides
May 7, 2014

I recently published an op-ed on the ‘Thucydides Trap’ at The National Interest, that can be found here.

It has been critically analysed by a Professor of Classics, Neville Morley, in a blog post. While I’m pleased that the piece has drawn attention, I am disappointed at his mixture of passive-aggressive tone and tortured reasoning. So I’ll respond, below, ad seriatim.

Here goes:

If International Relations theorists are going to continue citing Thucydides – and there’s no real sign of a let-up any time soon – then at least it’s a good sign if more of them have read more than just the Melian Dialogue.

With that offering of faint praise, Morley suggests that there is something tiresome and regrettable about the fact that some International Relations theorists cite Thucydides (‘no real sign of a let-up’, ‘at least its a good sign…’). Does he believe that IR scholars should not cite Thucydides? Who, then, should they be restricted to citing? IR theorists are concerned with the dangers of conflict and insecurity in our world. So surely its legitimate for them to study the great texts of past. The past, after all, is the only guide we have. Heavyweight political minds have long been drawn to the Athenian’s history for this reason, from Thomas Hobbes to Richard Ned Lebow. But maybe they should have heeded the irritation of specialists, and stayed out of Morley’s turf.

We then have this:

In a new article in The National Interest on the prospects for US-China relations, ‘Thucydides Trap 2.0′, Patrick Porter not only cites some ideas from the Corcyrean stasis but also distances himself from crass evocations of ancient Greece: “That Thucydides did not lay out a sustained explicit theory, and that his opinion is hard to extract from the arguments he recreated, does not stop people from ransacking his history for lessons.” Of course, that’s a conventional rhetorical move to imply that this reading of Thucydides in terms of contemporary lessons is complex and sophisticated and can be trusted…

Of course I believe my interpretation is ‘complex and sophisticated.’ There aren’t many scholars who believe their own work is simplistic and crude. I argue for a more careful reading that looks beyond mere external foreign relations, but I’m not sure where Morley gets the idea that I believe readers should just ‘trust’ what I say. I argue for an interpretation. Readers can look and disagree.

After this beginning, complete with suspenseful ellipsis, Morley goes on:

Porter’s argument, as evident from the title, sets off from the idea of the ‘Thucydides Trap’, the inevitability of conflict between an established power and an upstart rival (see previous posts). History shows that such ‘power transitions’ do not inevitably lead to conflict; the true ‘trap’ is rather an internal one, as Athens’ rising power led to excessive ambition and poor decision-making:…

In Book Three, Thucydides’ description of wartime rhetoric bears resemblance to today’s gridlocked politics. ‘Words had to change their ordinary meaning….Reckless audacity came to be considered the courage of a loyal ally; prudent hesitation, specious cowardice; moderation was held to be a cloak for unmanliness; ability to see all sides of a question, inaptness to act on any…The advocate of extreme measures was always trustworthy; his opponent a man to be suspected.’ An aristocrat exiled by the people’s vote, Thucydides portrayed a volatile Athenian population misled by demagogues that whipped it up. Even allowing for his disdain for unruly democracy, we can recognize in his History a useful warning. Power generates an obsession with status and the projection of strength, mutates into imperial swagger, and coarsens domestic politics. Domestic political spite in the imperial capital leads to moral and strategic failure, precisely because it makes sober debate difficult.

There’s a certain amount of sleight of hand here, conscious or not; the casual reader would quite reasonably conclude that the words quoted from Book III were explicitly offered as a description of Athens, rather than being an account of a completely different city that Thucydides intended to serve as a paradigm of the consequences of stasis across Greece. It’s a perfectly reasonable reading of the debasement of political rhetoric and the failures of deliberation in Athens – but it’s slightly strange that it isn’t developed using the more direct examples of the Mytilene Debate and the decision to send the expedition to Sicily. Is that perhaps precisely because those are debates, in which the outcome was uncertain and hence could have turned out differently, whereas Porter seems keen to imply that catastrophe is the inevitable result of such internal divisions and debased political discourse? One might even wonder whether there is a superstitious evasion of the example of Nicias, given that Porter’s basic message is a rather Nician one – “A climate of hysterical accusation prevents the formation of a party of caution, and impedes the measured consideration of hard choices.”

Its not easy to disentangle Morley’s message here from all its contradictions. On one hand, I am guilty of ‘sleight of hand’, though on the other it might not be ‘conscious.’ Its not clear how one can unintentionally be dishonest. On one hand, to believe Book III refers at all to politics in Athens is wrong, given that its about a ‘completely different city’, though on the other hand to see Thucydides statement about the debasement of language as relating to Athens is ‘perfectly reasonable.’ As Winston Churchill said of his desert, this section has no theme.

Then with a series of weasel qualifiers (‘certain amount’…’slightly strange’…’perhaps’…’One might even wonder’) Morley then speculates that I leave out mention of the Mytilene and Sicilian debates because I have dubious motives to twist the story. Actually, for what its worth, the reason is shallow. I had 1500 words to make a point about how to relate Thucydides’ history to the US-China rivalry, and how disaster begins at home. My omission of details is not, as Morley alleges, motivated by ‘superstitious evasion’ or a desire to dupe the reader, but by an editorial word count. Morley is pleased, however, to interpret silence in the most creative way possible, and allege unspeakable motives. Whose rhetorical moves are conventional, we might ask?

But there’s more:

The strangest aspect of this piece is the use of the phrase “suicide”. To be fair, “superpower suicide” appears only in the title and might not be Porter’s doing, but he certainly evokes the idea: “The real snare in [Thucydides']  History was not the murder of great powers, but their suicide.” (It may be wholly coincidental, but this immediately brought to mind the remark of an early C20 French historian whose name I can’t for the moment remember that the Roman Empire didn’t die a natural death, it was assassinated). In what sense did Athens commit suicide? It didn’t choose to destroy itself; the problem was rather excessive hope in the prospects for success and a glorious future, and various failures in short-term strategy and planning. I suppose this is rather a matter of ‘effective’ suicide, pursuing an obviously dangerous course of action in the face of all common sense and good advice

In a crowded field, this is Morley’s most ill-considered claim. The difference between a metaphorical and a literal statement is something any reasonably talented infant can grasp. But Morley gets there in the end. As it occurs to him eventually, I used the word ‘suicide’ not to mean that the Athenians decided deliberately to destroy themselves, but to mean that the disaster came about primarily because of self-defeating behaviour. Morley’s slide into literalism here is ironic, coming from a classicist who doesn’t like outsiders crudely misreading texts.

Finally, Morley has this to say:

but surely part of the message of Thucydides’ account is that the decision to send an expedition to Sicily was finely balanced, even if it ended in disaster – not as a matter of inevitability, but as a result of various different circumstances, some foreseeable but others not, that made it seem a poor decision in retrospect.

Porter’s main concern is the absence of a ‘party of caution’ and the domination of bellicose, hubristic rhetoric in US foreign policy circles. The Athenian case is rather different; clearly there was a party of caution, in the form of Nicias and his supporters, but they lost the argument. Thucydides may well have intended us to conclude that things would have been better if they had won, but there’s enough evidence in his portrayal of Nicias’ actions in Sicily to raise doubts about his overall judgement, and one might equally conclude that the fatal step was the decision to recall Alcibiades. The idea of a straightforward “if X, then Y will follow” principle – whether “if  rising power confronts established power then war”, or “if internal divisions and debased political rhetoric in context of power transition then war” – is quite alien to his sensibility.

For the record, here is Thucydides’ own comment on the Sicilian expedition, which is more robust than a view of it as ‘finely balanced’, from book 2. It leaves little doubt about the domestic roots of the problem:

Thus Athens, though still in name a democracy, was in fact ruled by her greatest citizen, But his [Pericles'] successors were more on an equality with one another, and, each one struggling to be first himself, they were ready to sacrifice the whole conduct of affairs to the whims of the people. Such weakness in a great and imperial city led to many errors, of which the greatest was the Sicilian expedition; not that the Athenians miscalculated their enemy’s power, but they themselves, instead of consulting for the interests of the expedition which they had sent out, were occupied in intriguing against one another for the leadership of the democracy, and not only hampered the operations of the army, but became embroiled, for the first time, at home.

If Thucydides is clear about one thing, it is that the expedition to Sicily was a bad idea, conceived in ignorance and strategic innocence, and that it was a mistake symptomatic of the decline in Athenian leadership. Morley is right that Thucydides also blames errors of execution. But consider the examples he offers. The recall of Alcibiades was as a result of domestic power struggles, just as the decision to appoint a reluctant and flawed Nicias to the command was an unintended result of perverse, emotive debate. Private quarrels in pursuit of power at home undermined the campaign at the front. There were parties of caution in the Greek world – and as Thucydides indicates, they were subjected to all kinds of abuse. Political disunity and bad faith was his obsessive, recurring theme.

In the article, I built on a legitimate and defensible reading of the text: that though nothing was inevitable, the permissive cause of Athens’ fall and the wider tragedy of the Greek world was the loss of restraint, the rise of destructive ambition and the defeat of the voice of cautious reason, all of which spiralled after the death of Pericles. If Thucydides had a ‘sensibility’, it was to illustrate how the Athenian empire’s growth contained the seeds of its own temptations, how it tragically brought about its own defeat, and through its mis-steps made itself vulnerable to opponents from Sparta to the Persian Empire. It held on for years after Sicily, but internal dissension again laid it low.

To end at the beginning, the original point of my piece was that a Thucydidean approach to US-China antagonism should turn attention primarily to failures at home, both moral and strategic. If Morley is truly interested in my views and has time to spare, he might read my other work on the issue of security in East Asia, which is anything but fatalistic or formulaic. If anything, this interpretation leaves room for hope that a tragic clash with China might yet be avoided, if sober leadership could be brought to bear. There are plenty of differences in context between today and the Peloponnesian war. But the danger of self-inflicted wounds is a theme that rhymes.

 

Book Teaser: The Global Village Myth
January 28, 2014

Though I’m not posting much these days, War on The Rocks have been kind enough to post this, the argument of the book in nutshell form.

Enjoy!

What Times, What Customs
November 25, 2013

Twitter is a phenomenon that attracts superficial, lightweight, gossipy commentary on the few days we have on this earth.

So I thought I’d join in.

I suspect it will be mostly a little newsagency for collecting the best feeds on the things that obsess the Offshore Balancer, plus some occasional sports journalism thrown in.

If you can bear this cultural decline, here it is.

 

The Great War of…1990
November 6, 2013

The year 2014 is nearly on us, and reflections on World War One are already weighing down bookshop shelves. In my own research, I’ve stumbled across an odd tendency: that whereas in Britain the cause of World War One, if not its conduct, attracts strong supporters as well as critics, the first Gulf War is remembered as a bit of a disappointment.

Consider the difference with one of history’s archetypal ‘limited’ wars, which few seem keen to defend.

In early 1991, having defeated the fourth largest army in the world after a bombing campaign and 100 hours of ground war, President Bush I called a halt to operations and stopped US forces at the Iraqi border. Despite majorities in polls supporting the overthrow of the defeated but surviving enemy Saddam Hussein, despite the belief of commander General Schwarzkopf that the US could drive on to Baghdad with virtually no resistance, despite the apparent opportunity to finish the job, Bush held back.

Ever since, observers have debated whether this consciously limited war was worth it. A rough consensus emerged in the literature – both journalistic and historiographical -that this was a hollow victory. It achieved its central declared aim, of expelling the Iraqi invader from Kuwait whose sovereignty was restored. But it failed to achieve the aim that gathered force as the war proceeded – more of a hope than an aim – that defeat would lead to Saddam’s demise at the hands of a palace revolution or popular uprising.

This unsatisfying outcome led to a decade of drift, a containment regime that was breaking down and serial breaches of UN resolutions. Critics also complained that the defiant Saddam used the opportunity to arm himself with apocalyptic weapons, but that line of critique has fallen out of fashion. So too has the loose counterfactual, that America could just have occupied the country and overseen a transition to democracy at minimal cost. That also is heard less often these days. But for critics, it was, allegedly, a ‘triumph without a victory.’

Speaking of which, that is the verdict British historian Brian Bond in his account of the pursuit of victory in the modern world. For Bond:  ‘The ironic result of the Gulf War seems to be either Saddam Hussein will be left in power to build up his forces for renewed aggression or, by some means short of another great coalition war, he will have to be deposed. There can rarely have been a case in history where the chasm between a decisive military victory and an unsatisfactory political outcome has been so wide. It was a “triumph without victory.’

Bond and I would have to agree to disagree on this one. The Gulf War was fought primarily to expel an invader from a territory, prevent Saddam’s regime from threatening the wider balance of power, keep his foot off the West’s windpipe, and shackle a predatory state. That American diplomacy (and indeed Arab diplomacy) had helped to generate this problem does not remove the question that Bush’s war addressed: was the invasion to be tolerated or not?  To judge wars only worthwhile if they achieve far more, if they destroy regimes or transform regions, is to ask too much. Most conflicts, even the ‘good’ ones, leave other tragic legacies in their wake. Just try telling Poles about the moral triumph of World War Two, or Serb minorities about the justice of the Balkans interventions.

Unless we fall prey to that ahistorical, utopian standard, its fair to say that whatever else happened, the 1990 war achieved a negative gain: a recession-fatigued, Vietnam-haunted America under a UN mandate with a broad coalition turned back an invasion and annexation of a small state. What’s more, Bush did try to convert this momentum into a settlement of sorts over Palestine, having just thwarted the main rejectionist regime in the region. But that is another story.

Regardless of all this, here is what’s truly odd. Having judged Bush’s war in the Gulf to be an extreme case of battlefield victory and political failure, Bond a few years later had this to say about Britain’s Great War of 1914-1918:

“It was, for Britain,a necessary and successful war, and an outstanding achievement for a democratic nation in arms.”

There’s something very wrong here. By what standard should we define and measure victory?  The Gulf War was hardly a picnic. It cost the US four casualties but killed thousands of Iraqis, and smashed up a good deal of infrastructure, and led to sanctions that ravaged Iraqi society. But compare it to the big one: to the first day of the battle of the Somme, or just about any day of Ypres, or the crippling naval blockade on Germany, or the atrocious occupation of Belgium, or  the disastrous aftermath and legacy of Leninism, economic dislocation, hypernationalism…by what standard, exactly, do Haig and Lloyd George get commended while Bush and Schwarzkopf are condemned?

Heavy costs and tragic unanticipated consequences came with both causes, the cause of preventing the Kaiserreich from crushing Europe, and the cause of preventing Saddam Hussein swallowing up Kuwait.  Whether one or both were worth it comes down to difficult value judgments that political change over time can alter. But as 2014 looms and poses the question of what standards to hold up to these questions, some proportion might be in order.

The Offshore Balancer in Space
October 18, 2013

After Britain fended off Nazi Germany’s assault in 1940 and Washington was persuaded that it was a horse worth backing,  the United States acted as an offshore balancer. Styling itself the arsenal of democracy and the guardian of the oceans, it gave material assistance to the British empire, began protecting Atlantic shipping lanes, expanded its defence perimeter, and by throwing its weight into the struggle, helped ensure that Britain could hold on as a vital base and counterweight to the growing Reich.  By the time it entered the struggle as a belligerent, it had had time to mobilise, rearm and plan.

For the review of all this and more, I was lucky enough recently to play a minor role in the retelling of the history of America’s world war two on the History Channel. ‘World War Two’ from space combined very cool digital graphics with historians like Richard Overy to produce an unusually worthwhile television event. Its now on Youtube – and here is the episode where yours truly chipped in with a few sentences.

Its just won an Emmy too – for graphic design, so congrats to all the team! That award for aesthetic achievement was won despite the face below.

The Offshore Balancer in Space
October 18, 2013

After Britain fended off Nazi Germany’s assault in 1940 and Washington was persuaded that it was a horse worth backing,  the United States acted as an offshore balancer. Styling itself the arsenal of democracy and the guardian of the oceans, it have material assistance to the British empire.

I was lucky enough recently to play a minor role in the retelling of the history of America’s world war two on the History Channel. ‘World War Two’ from space combined very cool digital graphics with historians like Richard Overy to produce an unusually worthwhile television event. Its now on Youtube – and here is the episode where yours truly chipped in with a few sentences. Its just won an Emmy too – for graphic design, so congrats to all the team!

That award for aesthetic achievement was won despite the face below.

 

 

Hitting Assad is unwise. But if done, it should be a punch, not a slap
September 2, 2013

It would be unwise to attack Syria. But it would be more unwise to believe that a one-off slap will succeed.

President Obama now seeks Congressional support for an air-strike against the monstrous regime of Assad after it allegedly used poison gas against civilians. The purpose is twofold: it is punitive, to punish the regime for violating a long-standing international norm against the use of chemical weapons. And it is preventative, intended to disrupt the regime’s capability for doing it again.

In brief, this exercise in missile diplomacy strikes me as imprudent.

Firstly, the evidence is not in, not to a satisfactory standard at any rate. The same President that rose to prominence condemning the unilateralism and illegality of Bush’s war in Iraq is now pushing for a resolution in favour of bombing a country in defiance of the UN Security Council vetoes it would get, and weeks before the UN’s own deliberation about what happened is due. Personally I don’t regard UNSC agreements as morally compelling as some commentators seem to , given that it is made up of states that all carry out unilateral war when it suits them. But if war is to be waged – and that is what this is – surely the threshold should be sufficiently high for the evidence to be properly assessed. If it is so painfully clear that Damascus is the culpable party, then the evidence will reveal this. The bad faith and misrepresentation of evidence in building the case for Iraq haunts us still, and that is one reason the House of Commons has rejected Prime Minister Cameron’s plea for support for war against Syria. Now is no time to be cavalier about matters of proof.

 

Secondly, it places undue moral and political weight on one method of atrocity over others.  Regimes kill civilians often and with much simpler methods that usually kill at a faster clip. Tyrants do not need poison gas to terrorise civilians, even if they think they do. A well-organised political machine, radio broadcasting and machetes killed people fast and on a great scale in Rwanda in 1994. As the wolfish assassin played by Tom Cruise in Collateral quipped, no-one has killed that many people that quickly since Hiroshima.

For some reason we attribute chemical weapons with exceptional barbarity, possibly because they are linked to the scientific genocide carried out by Nazi Germany in World War Two. But most slaughters, such as at Srebrenica, are done with cruder methods. And Assad’s assault on a neighborhood with poison gas seems to have been less murderous than his use of munitions, as hundreds of thousands of Syrians could attest if they were alive to tell it.

Either we say that chemical weapons use deserves more severe punishment than other methods, in which case an argument should be made as to why, precisely. Or we say that all outrages against civilians must be punished, which will put the weary, debt-laden, divided United States on a course Obama claims to oppose, a path of endless war.

Thirdly, Obama’s case for a limited bombing conducted to defend and consolidate a norm and prevent an aggressor carrying out one kind of atrocity places too great a faith in the effectiveness of a one-off act of war. Obama presents America as a judge dispensing justice to an offender in the dock, to teach it and everyone else a lesson, and prevent them doing it again.

But if America bombs Syria, it will not be handing down a verdict in a civilian court. Objectively, whether it likes it or not, it will be joining one side in a brutal and very messy civil war. The opposition knows it. The Syrian regime knows it. Onlooking states know it – Turkey, Russia, Iran -backing one side or the other. And Assad will likely conclude that the cruise missiles fired at him from the sea are not the instruments of international justice, but a declaration of war by a superpower joining the other side.

This will likely have consequences that Obama’s arguments have hardly addressed.  The Tomahawk missiles will probably not topple Assad quickly, given the poor success rate of strategic bombing for regime change. They will, however, elicit open hostility and hostile retaliations from the regime and its backers. Assad will promise revenge, via cyber assaults on terrorist strikes against any American base, or American, he can get his hands on. Hezbollah and Iran will vow likewise and possibly also vow to punish Israel, America’s main ally in the region. And, distressingly, Russia’s hostility can be reliably expected across the board. America will find itself in an intensifying conflict where a coalition of enemies directly threaten it.

And herein is the problem: Obama wants a limited, punitive, one-off airstrike to make a point. But what he will get is something far more fraught: the opening shots in a new round of a war which will become more internationalised. Assad will likely survive and look defiant. This will make Americans, with little appetite for more war, feel humiliated, angry and/or frightened. For Obama, the downstream pressure to escalate will be strong.

And the slaughter of civilians will continue.

So, if America is to do this, let it not be a foolish slap conducted to avoid embarrassment. It should know that by stepping into this fight, it is joining a side, making fresh enemies and raising the stakes for itself. In which case, it must punch Assad with great force, not just slap him in a pinprick measure that is enough to kill bystanders and escalate the conflict, but not enough to succeed.

Given that public opinion and war weariness will circumscribe any military action to standoff strikes, they must be targeted at the regime’s capability to wage war across the board: its airpower, its cyber-capabilities, its command and control centres, its radar systems, its ships and its army on the ground. If America is determined to impress upon the world the extent of its presence and its power, and if it really does believe that this regime should be stopped in its tracks effectively, if it really does identify its security interests with the success of the Syrian rebels, then this is what is required.

If this sounds horrifically unacceptable, and if it sounds like the kind of thing Americans will not shoulder, then America’s policymakers should not delude themselves that a few cruise missiles will be a sensible substitute. Because stepping in to this war will very likely lead to mutual escalation. It is not just a matter of ‘knowing the enemy’, it is a matter of ‘knowing oneself.’ Knowing itself, Washington should realise that it itself will not tolerate the blowback from a bombing slap.

So, its go hard or go home.

 

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