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CIAO DATE: 01/03
Volume XIX, No 3, Fall 2002
Toward Universal Empire: The Dangerous Quest for Absolute Security by David C. Hendrickson
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The Struggle for India's Soul by Mira Kamdar
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The Politics of Argentina's Meltdown by Javier Corrales
Argentina, the country that gave us the tango, Evita, the Falklands War, soccer and tennis legends, and some of the best red wines from the Southern Hemisphere, has also given us the first economic depression of the twenty-first century. What began in late 1998 as a mild recession by mid-2002 had become one of the most harrowing economic crises in Argentina's history.
The features of this depression are daunting: a default on government debts, a nearly 75 percent devaluation of the peso, an economic contraction that sent the GDP back to 1993 levels, an unemployment rate of 22 percent, the collapse of the banking system despite a freeze on bank deposits, and the creation of more than one and a half million new poor in just six months.
The toll on politics has been no less dramatic: between October 2000 and August 2002, there were five cabinet crises, two presidential resignations, one Senate crisis, and five ministers of the economy. The streets in downtown Buenos Aires are now full of abandoned retail stores and angry protesters. ?ue se vayan todos! (Kick everyone out!) reads the omnipresent graffiti.
The current crisis is perplexing to many Argentines (and scholars abroad) because, for the first time ever, Argentina in the 1990s seemed to have finally gotten its politics and economics right.
Iran's Emerging National Compact by Ray Takeyh
Getting Iran wrong is an old habit. Until the very eve of the 1979 revolution, Americans grievously misjudged the staying power of the Shah and underestimated the appeal of his clerical opponents. Now Washington risks the obverse error by misjudging the strength of theocratic ideologues and their militias, while underestimating the staying power of Iranian reformers. Granted, over the past five years, the inability of the reform movement led by President Mohammad Khatami to overcome Iran's systemic hurdles to genuine democratization has frustrated an impatient electorate and generally sullied the Cinderella story of a changing Iran. At a press conference this summer, the Iranian president himself ruefully and realistically declared, "I admit that there is a sort of hopelessness in our society."
The conventional Washington wisdom is understandable. Iranian politics are in an intractable stalemate. Khatami's resounding electoral victories and the reformers' tremendous gains in parliamentary and municipal elections are greeted in America with skepticism, if not resignation. The reformist press has been stifled-more than 70 publications have been suppressed on specious charges by hard-line judges in the last three years. Responding to scores of arrests of their liberal members, and massive disqualifications of reformist candidates, the Iranian parliament is about to adopt legislation that would deny the clerics on the Council of Guardians-the political fortress of orthodoxy and autocracy-the highhanded right to disqualify candidates. Yet this pervasive skepticism obscures the gradual shifts in Iran's political topography that have taken place since the first reformist breakthrough six years ago-subtle but fundamental changes in the structure of authority and the fabric of society.
Reflections
Facts of Life by Nicholas X. Rizopoulos
Not surprisingly, as we approached the first anniversary of 9/11 we found ourselves drowning in a deluge of long-winded, repetitious, but not particularly enlightening commentaries by the fraternity of foreign policy "experts" and assorted media pundits, all purporting to explain-in one fell swoop-the "new" global terrorism, the "clash of civilizations," the "true meaning" of radical Islam, and the deeper "lessons" of history. What was the average, harried citizen supposed to make of all this ostensibly learned analysis and advice? One was reminded of the late Alexander Bickel's famous throwaway line. When asked, at some Yale alumni function, "What is happening to morality today?" the great constitutional scholar replied, "It threatens to engulf us."
Here, then, are some simple facts of life, one year later.
First, 9/11 was a sorely needed wake-up call for the Bush administration, the American people, and our friends abroad-on the scandalous inefficiency of the U.S. intelligence and security services during most of the preceding decade, as well as on the lack of proper coordination and cooperation between the CIA, the FBI, and their counterparts in Britain, France, Germany, and points east....
Second, 9/11 has made it more clear than ever that, as in the bad old days of the Cold War, when Washington went to bed with the likes of Mobutu, Pinochet, Marcos, Suharto, the Shah of Iran, and the Greek colonels' junta, ostensibly better to "contain" the Soviet menace, whether it offends our democratic sensibilities or not, we continue to be hostages to a number of unsavory foreign governments....
Third, paradoxically enough, the events of last September 11 pushed the Iraq issue to the very top of the Bush foreign policy agenda....
Fourth, lest we start patting ourselves on the back a bit too energetically, 9/11 also provided us with a disconcerting look into the nonworkings of the Bush foreign policy team.
Killing One's Progeny: America and the United Nations by Barbara Crossette
As if we needed reminding, the debate over how to tackle Iraq has illuminated again how Washington is at best ambivalent, at worst downright dismissive, about America's role in international institutions, even though the United States was instrumental in creating most of them. And where else but in America would a diplomat, in this case Charles Liechenstein, who died in August, be remembered in obituaries mostly for having told the United Nations that any time it wanted to leave American shores, he would be down at dockside waving farewell.
The interesting question is what lies behind this ambivalence, or hostility. One of the better kept secrets of American politics is that ordinary citizens, when asked in opinion polls, repeatedly and emphatically express support for the United Nations and other international organizations, and almost always say that they prefer that Americans not go into battle alone. Polls show that only a vehement minority would rejoice at the dock with Mr. Liechenstein.
So what actuates politicians and White House staffers who miss no opportunity to belittle the United Nations? For some, Sen. Jesse Helms, former chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee is one, it is surely a matter of deeply felt conviction, a fear that meddling foreigners will compromise American sovereignty. But this does not explain why a mainstream Democrat like President Bill Clinton so limply supported paying treaty-obligated back dues to the United Nations and initially blocked the use of the word "genocide" to describe the slaughter in Rwanda in 1994 for fear that the world organization-and worse, the United States-might have to get more actively involved in stopping it.
Vehemence works in shaping official attitudes toward the United Nations, just as it works when special-interest lobbies succeed in framing other foreign policy issues. Lawmakers and White House aides find it easier to placate a fanatic minority than to make the effort to energize an inactive majority. As a result, in the name of "reform," the United Nations has been hamstrung by congressional demands for intrusive American oversight and zero-growth budgets. This takes place at a time-and under an innovative secretary general, Kofi Annan-when the organization badly needs flexibility to tackle a barrage of twenty-first century problems, including cross-border crime and terrorism, the AIDS epidemic, and the inequalities of a global economy that fuel revolts against Western-style free enterprise and democracy.
Environment
More Than Hot Air: Market Solutions to Global Warming by Ricardo Bayon
If there ever was a political instance of an immovable object meeting an irresistible force, it would seem to be George W. Bush versus the treaty known as the Kyoto Protocol. The president is as adamantly opposed to the protocol as environmentalists are overwhelmingly in favor of the international agreement reached in 1997 to reduce emissions of so-called greenhouse gases (primarily carbon dioxide), which are widely thought to contribute to global warming. At first, President Bush said he opposed Kyoto because the science on climate change was unclear. He has since changed his stance and now claims that the protocol is unrealistic and would cost too much to implement. And, he says, any global treaty should also require reductions by developing countries.
Having promised that the United States would put forward its own climate change program, the president came up with a slippery scheme last February that understandably provoked jeers from Kyoto supporters. His plan hinged on voluntary reductions in greenhouse gas emissions and on reducing what he called "greenhouse gas intensity," which is a measure of emissions per unit of GDP. One of the problems with this proposal is that a reduction in greenhouse gas intensity would still permit net emissions of greenhouse gases to rise. Moreover, the proposed "reductions" nearly equal reductions that have already taken place. In short, the president's proposal on climate change is essentially a "business as usual" plan, and as such was coldly received by environmentalists and by most countries around the world.
In light of the intransigence of the Bush administration on Kyoto, it is in the world's interest to find other, more creative, ways of achieving the treaty's goals without requiring the United States to sign on to the convention. The most promising of these "alternative routes" is one that involves the use of market mechanisms to reduce emissions of the gases responsible for climate change.
Reconsiderations
Azerbaijan: The Hidden Faces of Islam by Tadeusz Swietochowski
Azerbaijan is a quintessential borderland country. Located in the South Caucasus on the great divide between Europe and Asia, and flanked by Russia and Iran, it is no bigger than the state of Maine. Its 8 million mostly Turkic-speaking inhabitants have ancestral memories of the complex religious and ethnic conflicts that have riven their region. Not only is the country on the very boundaries of the Islamic and Christian worlds, but its history is entwined with the two main branches of Islam, the majority Sunnis and the dissenting Shiites. In past confrontations between predominantly Shia Iran and mostly Sunni Ottoman Turkey, Azerbaijan became a battleground, recalling Europe's own wars of religion during the Reformation.
These are not remote matters. As this essay will attempt to explain, 70 years of Communist rule, from 1920 until the Soviet collapse in 1991, did not ameliorate, much less quell, sectarian divisions. Indeed, the Soviet Union's dissolution was heralded in 1988 by an outbreak of violence over Nagorno-Karabakh, a predominantly ethnic Armenian Christian enclave within Azerbaijan. Moscow was unable to broker a settlement, and as Armenia and Azerbaijan became independent riots escalated into open warfare in 1992-94, claiming 30,000 lives and displacing close to a million mostly Muslim Azeris. Despite a cease-fire, sporadic fighting continues over Armenian occupation of Nagorno-Karabakh as outside mediators (the United States, Russia, and France) have failed to put forward mutually acceptable peace terms.
From an American vantage, Azerbaijan's stability is of obvious concern, given its location, its shared Shia faith with Iran, its ethno-linguistic ties with Turkey, and its important role in the global energy economy. Post-9/11, prospects seem more favorable for a pipeline that could carry Caspian oil from Azerbaijan through Georgia to Turkey's Mediterranean port at Ceyhan. But completion of the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline is very much hostage to relative tranquility in the South Caucasus, with its competing faiths and contentious ethnic groups. A glance at the past provides a cautionary warning about subsurface tensions among a people who have made an art form of concealment.
Books
Culture, Globalization, and U.S. Foreign Policy by Andrew J. Bacevich
Many Globalizations: Cultural Diversity in the Contemporary World
Peter L. Berger and Samuel P. Huntington, eds.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.
Culture Matters: How Values Shape Human Progressz
Lawrence E. Harrison and Samuel P. Huntington, eds.
New York: Basic Books, 2000.
When George W. Bush declared in the aftermath of September 11 that "America will lead the world to peace," did he really mean what he said? Did the president's statement derive from a careful assessment of overall trends in international politics? Or was it merely an offhand expression of personal opinion? Are such views his alone? Or do they reflect the collective wisdom of his foreign policy advisers? And what exactly does President Bush mean by world peace?
Although it may be difficult to answer such questions definitively, this much we can say with some confidence: such sentiments do not surface in presidential speeches by accident. Nor are they inserted simply as innocuous applause lines. Rather, they serve an important purpose, affirming the speaker's recognition and acceptance of fundamental assumptions regarding America's historical purpose.
A promise by the president of France to lead the world to peace would elicit gales of derisive laughter. A similar promise by leaders of Germany, Japan, or Russia would likely be viewed as evidence of resurgent megalomania. But the notion of history anointing the United States to be the agent of global peace strikes most Americans as not only unremarkable but perhaps even self-evident.
By publicly endorsing this notion, President Bush signals his allegiance to the tradition of Woodrow Wilson, an approach to statecraft that combines vaulting ambition with boundless confidence in the efficacy of American power. In that regard Bush is hardly alone: the Wilsonian tradition is one to which all recent occupants of the Oval Office, regardless of party, have adhered. That the United States has it within its power to transform the global order-and that Providence summons Americans to do so-is a proposition to which presidents as dissimilar as Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton enthusiastically subscribed. Indeed, for a would-be national leader to express a contrary view, to suggest that American influence might have limits or that peace might be a chimera, would be tantamount to declaring himself unfit for high office.
In formulating polices to affect that transformation, successive presidents, to include Bush in the aftermath of September 11, have demonstrated remarkable consistency. The strategy that they have followed has two distinctive but mutually supporting components. The aspect attracting the lion's share of public attention concerns military power. Having over the course of a century risen at great cost to a position of military preeminence, the United States has no intention of forfeiting the advantages it derives therefrom. Indeed, when it comes to the use of force, U.S. policymakers today exercise astonishingly wide prerogatives, wielding American armed might to restore or maintain order, deter would-be challengers, and punish miscreants, even to do so preemptively.
Yet if the United States counts on its military dominance to foster conditions conducive to the Wilsonian project, presidents have seldom viewed military power per se as the actual agent of transformation. In this regard, the second, or ideological, component of U.S. strategy may capture fewer headlines, but is the more important.
Russia: Farewell to Empire? by Angela E. Stent
The New Russian Diplomacy
Igor S. Ivanov
Washington D.C.: The Nixon Center & Brookings Institution Press, 2002.
The End of Eurasia: Russia on the Border Between Geopolitics and Globalization
Dmitri Trenin
Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2002.
Vladimir Putin's immediate and strong support for Washington's antiterrorism campaign after September 11, which represented a decisive break with both the Soviet past and the ambivalence of Russia's first postcommunist decade, surprised Russians and Americans alike. For most of the 1990s, many Russians had harbored resentments against the West, as they struggled to understand how the Soviet Union could have collapsed as a result of self-inflicted wounds rather than defeat in war.
Even the most outwardly pro-Western Russian officials pursued a contradictory policy during this period: seeking to join Western "clubs," such as the Group of Seven highly industrialized nations (G-7), while simultaneously criticizing them and trying to change their rules. Although they asked the West to deal with Russia as a "normal" country, they also demanded that the outside world continue to treat Russia as a major power, despite its diminished resources and limited capabilities.
Foreign policy analysts sparred over whether Russia should follow a Eurasian or a European path. The Eurasianists argued the case for Russian exceptionalism and for Russia's continuing right to be treated as a great power. The Europeanists countered that it was finally time for Russia to disabuse itself of its great-power pretensions and join what they called the "civilized" world, i.e., the West. During the Clinton administration, the United States facilitated Russia's entry into the G-7 and created a NATO-Russia partnership, but it also helped to perpetuate some of these great-power pretensions by turning the G-7 into the G-8, even though Russia's GDP was less than that of the Netherlands.
President Putin has consistently claimed that he early on rejected Russia's "Eurasian option" to cultivate ties with China and states to the south in favor of a pro-Western policy, and was only waiting for an opportunity to implement his new design. The destruction of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center at the hands of Islamic terrorists enabled him to end the debate that had preoccupied the Russian political class for a decade over how Russia should define its identity and interests in the countries of the former Soviet Union and in the post-Cold War world. For Putin and his supporters, Russia's future lay in the West, not in a nostalgic attempt to resurrect past Russian and Soviet imperial Eurasian might. However difficult it might be to accept the role of junior partner to the United States, they argued, it would prove to be of greater benefit to the Russian national interest in the long run.
The two books under review-both written before September 11 but with brief acknowledgments of the terrorist attacks in New York and at the Pentagon, and their aftermath-reflect the transformation of Russian foreign policy in the last ten years. While their authors agree on much about Russia's past, they offer strikingly different views of its future. Igor Ivanov, who has been Russia's foreign minister since 1998, presents a broad-ranging but traditional view of Russia's global interests in The New Russian Diplomacy, as might be expected from someone still in office. But this means that a reader must look in vain-despite the promise of the book's title-for the considerations that produced Putin's turn toward the West. In contrast, Dmitri Trenin, deputy director of the Carnegie Moscow Center-a beacon of enlightened discourse in the new Russia, housed in a modern building on Pushkin Square-explains in his creative and persuasive book, The End of Eurasia, that Russia has no option but to renounce "multipolarity"-a policy that advocates balancing Russia's ties to the West with its ties to China and other Asian countries, and denies that the United States is the center of global power, and become a truly European nation.
Correspondence
Malaysian Capital Controls & The Iranian Coup by Jomo K. S.; R. K. Ramazani
Coda
"Regime Change" and Other Enigmas by Karl E. Meyer
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