"[T]oday, for the first time in our history, we face thestark
reality that the [communist] challenge is unending. . . .Wemust
learn to conduct foreign policy as other nations have had toconduct
it for so many centuries--without escape and without respite. ..
This condition will not go away."--Henry Kissinger, 1977

"White South Africans have chosen the path of Ian D. Smith. . ..A
dismayed Archbishop Desmond Tutu said on Thursday that SouthAfrica
had entered the 'darkest age of its history.'" --AllisterSparks,
Washington Post, May 10, 1987.

In our lifetime, there have been two epochal events thatalmost
nobody anticipated, certainly not in the way in which theycame
about: the fall of communism in the Soviet Union, and the fallof
apartheid in South Africa, in both cases with very littlebloodshed.

The most fundamental reasons for the fall of each regime werethe
same: loss of legitimacy and economic failure. But there aremany
other countries where the United States would wish to see asimilar
outcome--North Korea and Cuba among them--where legitimacy islong
lost and where the economic situation is worse than it ever wasin
the Soviet Union and South Africa. Clearly, more was involvedthan
just these two factors. The crucial extra element was theengagement
of the United States in each country--but it was an engagement ofa
somewhat paradoxical kind. For the process by which those twosystems
were brought down is almost directly a product of the seemingchaos
and unpredictability that characteristically surrounds theformation
and implementation of American foreign policy.

The view that the United States played a significant role inthe
overthrow of these two systems of government runs counter, ofcourse,
to the widely accepted notion of the limitations on U.S. powerthat
have prevailed since Vietnam. To give one influentialexample,
Seweryn Bialer of Columbia University wrote as late as 1986that:

"[T]he ability of the West to effect change within SovietRussia, let
alone rapid change, is severely limited. . . .Even if the Westwere
able to impose extreme economic choices, the system would not
crumble, the political structures would not disintegrate, theeconomy
would not go bankrupt, the leadership would not lose its will torule
internally or to be a global power."

Analysts were no more sanguine about America's ability toinfluence
developments in South Africa. Two of the most respectedAfricanists
in the United States, Helen Kitchen and Michael Clough, wrote in1984
that the bipartisan consensus was that:

"The U.S. has only limited ability to influence developments inSouth
Africa. Particularly in the short run, we do not possess anylevers
that can be used to force the white ruling group to move fasteror
further than its own assessments of risks and gains dictates, orto
leverage blacks to adjust their priorities and tactics to our
perception of reality."

Even Chester Crocker, who designed the Reagan policy ofconstructive
engagement towards South Africa, warned that the United Stateshad
only "limited influence" over the South African government, andthat
it must be "carefully husbanded for specific application toconcrete
issues of change."

The belief that the United States had little influence appearedto be
borne out by the reactions of the Soviet and South African
governments to U.S. pressures. Both were sensitive to anyimpression
that they could be bullied. In the 1970s the Soviets reactedsharply
to the Jackson-Vanik amendment, which sought to pressure theminto
allowing more Jewish emigration, by actually curtailing itfor
several years. And in the immediate aftermath of the applicationof
sanctions against South Africa in 1986, reforms skidded to ahalt.

It was easy to conclude from these and other examples thatU.S.
pressure was almost always counterproductive, and to neglectthe
subtler, longer-term influence of the United States. Such a
conclusion gratified many Americans: those who believed thatthe
United States was suffering, in Senator Fulbright's words, from"the
arrogance ofpower;" those who opposed on principle the policiesin
question; those whose business interests were adversely affected;and
those who, in the tradition of Wall Street stock analysts,believed
that influence, like a good stock, must show rising profitsevery
quarter.

In truth, however, the nature and extent of American influencehas
been misunderstood. It was not just the armed might of theUnited
States, nor its symbolism as the shining city on the hill, whichwas
most effective in destabilizing these two regimes--it was ratherthe
complex impact on closed societies of a powerful, appealing,
seductive, and subversive society which carried within it, whatwas,
for an autocracy, a virus as virulent as any Ebola. By helpingto
erode the core of belief that sustained each society, theUnited
States contributed decisively to the overthrow of both regimes.The
same process of erosion is now far advanced in China; whileour
reluctance to use that influence in North Korea and Cuba may
inadvertently have prolonged communist rule in those countries.

The Power of American Complexity

There is a superficial simplicity to the American philosophyof
government that is deeply appealing to people around the world.The
reality is something else. For all its marvelous balance andits
success in preserving democratic government, that system iscomplex
in the extreme, incoherent to the verge of chaos, conflictualoften
to the point of gridlock, and very unpredictable.

Part of the reason lies in the separation of powers, one ofthose
decisions of the Founding Fathers that has mystified foreignersever
since. Then there is the habit into which the American peoplehave
fallen of putting Congress and the executive branch indifferent
hands: in more than half of the last fifty years, at least oneand
usually both houses of Congress were under the control of theparty
in opposition to the president of the day. In the absence ofa
strong, disciplined party structure, too, there is the diffusionof
power in Congress itself, both between the two Houses and withineach
House. (And there are the significant divisions amongrelevant
agencies within the executive branch.) As George Shultz once
complained, there is no such thing as a final decision inWashington.

Over and above these structural features, there are themultiplicity
of interests and interest groups, the immense diversity ofAmerican
society, and the excessive rhetoric that characterizes theconflict
of those separated in fact by minor differences. From the1960s
through the 1980s there was one difference that was notminor:
substantive disagreement on the central question of the natureof
communism and how to deal with it. At its extremes, thedifference
was between a view of the Soviet Union as a ruthless andinsatiable
enemy that had to be confronted at every point, and one that sawit
as a country not substantially different from other countries,whose
encroachments offered no particular threat to the United States,and
with whom we should be prepared at all times to negotiate. Ina
country that seldom strays too far from the middle of theroad,
neither extreme was often in control of policy; but theseextremes
always had to be taken into account by the Soviets, and their
differences had real consequences.

American differences over how to handle South Africa also arosefrom
the Cold War. For much of the period, apartheid was anathema tothe
vast majority of Americans. But at the same time South Africa wasa
friendly, staunchly anti-communist country that supported theUnited
States in the Cold War. Those whose priority was the conflictwith
the Soviet Union resisted policies that might topple theSouth
African government, whatever their reservations about itsdomestic
misdoings. Those who were less impressed with the importance ofthe
Cold War were more willing to help end apartheid.

These differences--symptomatic of similar differences thatprevailed
over a wide range of issues, including how to relate toChina,
Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Chile--seemed to most observersto
constitute an element of weakness in U.S. foreign policy. Inreality
they constituted one of its crucial strengths. In its crudest
manifestation, the existence of this pattern of differences createda
good cop/bad cop alternation which was not only difficult for
America's opponents to deal with, but turned out to beprofoundly
destabilizing to dictatorial regimes.

Both the Soviet Union and South Africa were forced, by thesheer
power of the United States and its capacity to damage their
interests, to have a relationship with Washington. Both feltobliged,
by the logic of that position, to attempt to improve their
relationship, or at least to prevent its deterioration. Bothsought
to manipulate the U.S. system, usually by trying toingratiate
themselves with those in opposition to putative hard-liners. Andboth
were confronted every day with the implications of their attemptsat
manipulation, as well as by the insistent, multifarious, and
seemingly inconsequential demands of a free society:journalists
seeking a visa, wanting to travel to forbidden areas, or sendingout
an adverse report; businessmen concerned about the conditionsunder
which they had to operate; academics requesting collaborationwith
peers or use of research facilities; relatives of would-beemigrants
seeking help; trade unionists angered by anti-labor policies;
churches opposed to limitations on freedom of religion; peacegroups
calling for arms control; ethnic groups protesting Sovietpolicies;
or politicians bombarded by aggrieved constituents, who could beany
of the above.

There was no respite from this pressure, because there can beno
respite from the demands of a free and powerful society. Theonly
alternative for a despot was to insulate his country fromcontact
with the United States, or to have it sealed off by the UnitedStates
itself--in other words, to be like North Korea or Cuba. Nodoubt,
other things being equal, the rulers of both the Soviet Unionand
South Africa would have often preferred insulation, but otherthings
were not equal and neither was prepared to face the consequencesthat
would flow from such isolation.

More Than a Negotiating Technique

The phrase "good cop/bad cop" is in one critical sensemisleading. It
can imply a mere negotiating technique, as in the technicalsense
used by police, in which a suspect is induced to be truthfulby
alternating harsh interrogatory techniques with moreunderstanding,
sympathetic treatment. While this technique is used quiteconsciously
by American diplomats from time to time, its success in the casesof
the Soviet Union and South Africa came not from its use as a
negotiating tool but from the perception--and the reality--thatthere
were indeed powerful forces in the United States that weredeeply
hostile to both countries and wanted to use punitive measuresagainst
them. In other words, the success of the strategy resultedprecisely
from the fact that the Soviet and South African leadershipsbelieved
it was not just a negotiating technique.

This is the point that Chester Crocker, assistant secretary ofstate
for African affairs throughout the Reagan presidency, misses inhis
otherwise highly perceptive account of his tenure:

"Ted Koppel had written in April 1985 that constructiveengagement,
conducted against the backdrop of an aroused public, could enableus
to "calibrate" pressures and enhance our influence on P.W.Botha's
government in Pretoria. Theoretically, this might make sense. Butthe
good cop, bad cop analogy--arming a reasonable and balanced
policymaker with the "threat" of a meaner alternative--doesnot
always work well in American foreign policy. . . "

Koppel's model would have worked if the good cop and the bad copwere
working for the same police chief. In this case, the bad cop wasnot
trying to help Reagan, Shultz, and me; he was trying todiscredit,
undermine, or replace us; and he sought to redefine U.S.policy.

But it was precisely because the bad cop was not working for thesame
police chief that the "threat" posed by a potentially volatileU.S.
policy to the South African government was credible. Had it comefrom
an administration committed to engagement and driven by ColdWar
imperatives, it would not have been nearly as convincing.

The "crazy man" strategy used by Nixon and Kissinger atvarious
times--in which the adversaries of the United States were
confidentially warned against opposing President Nixon, becausehe
was liable to go berserk and lash out in an incalculable way--is,of
course, an imaginative variation of the bad cop strategy,exploiting
the president's reputation as a strange man and as a loner. Attimes
it even allowed Nixon himself to be simultaneously both good copand
bad cop. It was particularly useful in negotiations thatconceded
advantages to the Soviets, as a means of warning them againsttrying
to take liberties with Nixon's flexibility.

All this is not to depreciate Crocker's remarkable contributionin
bringing change to South Africa. Indeed, the influence of thegood
cop was essential in bringing about constructive change in bothSouth
Africa and the Soviet Union; and those changes weakened bothregimes,
and contributed to their fall when the bad cop took over. Butthe
presence of the bad cop--sometimes in power, sometimes hoveringin
the background--made the blandishments of the good cop more
appealing. Constructive engagement worked because destructive
engagement was not merely possible but seriously proposed, and,in
the case of South Africa, eventually implemented.

This is also an element that Fukuyama neglects in "The Endof
History?" Even while he brilliantly analyzes the philosophicaland
economic shortcomings of communist states, he is less clear as towhy
the United States was able to prevail in its struggle with theSoviet
Union but not, say, against Cuba. Fukuyama points out that whatmade
continued contact so necessary to the Soviet Union and SouthAfrica,
and what made isolation impossible as a policy option, was notjust
an awareness of American power but the realization that theirown
systems were failing. A communist system capable of mobilizingthe
industrial capacity of the 1950s proved incapable of masteringthe
technological innovations of the information age. It was clear bythe
late 1970s that the Soviet Union was not only falling behindthe
United States, it was not even keeping up with Singapore.

In a smaller way, but at more or less the same time, the effortof
the South African government to run a modern economy while
maintaining the fiction that 70 percent of its population wouldsoon
be going back to their own "homelands" became ever more absurd.

True, Fukuyama warns that we should not "underestimate theability of
totalitarian or authoritarian states to resist the imperativesof
economic rationality for a considerable length of time," butthat
leaves unexamined the question of why some are able to do sowhile
others are not. Why was there, in the case of the Soviet Unionand
South Africa, a voluntary decision by the old regime to cede powerto
a democratically-elected government, while such a decision hasnot
been taken by Cuba or North Korea?

The answer lies in the relationship of each country to theUnited
States. Divergent pressures from within the United States facedSouth
Africa and the Soviet Union with a critical choice as to howto
conduct their affairs. If each country continued to alienatepowerful
sections of American opinion, it would be denied importantelements
of the revolutionary new technologies. The good cop (the Right inthe
case of South Africa, the Left in that of the Soviets) wantedtrade,
contact and communication; the bad cop (the Left with SouthAfrica,
the Right with the Soviet Union) wanted sanctions, boycott,and
breach. The cops were different in each case, but the effect wasthe
same. The very existence of the bad cop made it necessary fordespots
to embrace the good. But in the cases of Cuba and North Korea,the
absence of divergence has been the key. No good cop has been
available to offset the bad; and they have thus been left withoutan
option to engage.

Sir Richard Evans, Britain's ambassador to China from 1984 to1988,
well describes the identical choices now facing that country.The
Sino-American Agreement of 1982, he writes:

"left China with two balances to strike: the balancebetween
political independence at the cost of slow economic progressand
rapid economic progress at the cost of at least some degreeof
political dependence on the United States; and the balance betweenan
open door to Western ideas at the risk of generatingpolitical
discontent and a door shut to such ideas at the risk ofexcluding
industrial know-how. Much in China since 1982 has turned onthe
management of these balances."

Those choices for China arise from the same contending forcesin
American democracy that dominated the debate on relations withthe
Soviet Union and South Africa: between a U.S. nationalinterest
narrowly construed and one that incorporated the traditionalAmerican
commitment to liberty; between a stress on the limits to U.S.power
and more expansive ideas; between traditional concepts of
non-interference in the domestic affairs of other countries, andan
equally traditional moral urge to interfere; between theUnited
States as exemplar and as trader. And finally on a lesselevated
level, between periods when media and public attention are focusedon
a country, and times when they are not. In short, China, likethe
Soviet Union and South Africa before it, is now being subjectedto
the happy--and messy--unpredictability of U.S. foreign policy.

A Propensity to Bewilder

Americans rarely appreciate how unpredictable their foreignpolicy
can be. As citizens of the most powerful country in the world,they
have less reason to brood over long-term influences andconsequences;
they are involved in the here and now in a way that no othernation
can afford to be. Geographical isolation, too, has allowed Americato
escape the ancient disputes and fractures that still hauntless
fortunate countries. During the time that I had dealings with themas
director of the South Africa Foundation in Washington, I foundthat
State Department desk officers usually had superb command ofthe
events of the last six months, but had sometimes never heard ofthe
Great Trek, an event not much less significant in SouthAfrican
history than the shots fired on Fort Sumter are in Americanhistory.

One can count at least five sharp alternations in U.S. policytoward
South Africa over the past three decades--changes which, to asmaller
country confronted by the power of the leader of the free world,were
both confusing and alarming.

Up to the end of the Eisenhower administration, the UnitedStates
followed the policy of friendship and non-intervention thathad
prevailed since the Second World War. The United States abstainedon
UN resolutions critical of South Africa's race policies onthe
grounds that it was a matter that fell within South Africa'sdomestic
jurisdiction. The first departure was to vote to condemn SouthAfrica
for the Sharpeville massacre in 1960. The Kennedy and Johnson
administrations broke with Eisenhower's policy of benignneglect,
instituting a voluntary arms embargo and voting to terminateSouth
Africa's mandate over South West Africa, now Namibia. TheNixon
administration changed policy again, though without fanfare,by
adopting National Security Council Study Memorandum 39 (NSSM 39)of
August 15, 1969, which proposed encouraging reform bybroadening
contact, on the assumption that "the Whites are here to stay, andthe
only way that constructive change can come about is throughthem."

The Carter administration reverted to the tone of theKennedy/Johnson
period, supporting a mandatory arms embargo and calling for a
one-man, one-vote system of government, at a time when fewwhite
South Africans could even contemplate such a change. TheReagan
administration shifted back to a policy of "constructiveengagement,"
which recognized South Africa's pre-eminence in Southern Africa,and
sought to get its cooperation in solving other regionalquestions
before turning to South Africa itself. The policy's centralpremise
was that hostile external pressures were counterproductive,and
served only to reinforce South Africa's intransigence. But muchof
that policy was in turn cut short by an impatient Congress,which
forced a reluctant administration to introduce limited sanctionsin
1985, and more comprehensive ones the following year.

Ironically, it was television pictures of police brutalityagainst
black demonstrators that caused Congress to act--and theSouth
African government permitted such pictures to be taken becauseit
wanted to impress upon the United States that, racialdifferences
aside, it was a democratic state with a free press. Inpermitting
wider revelations of the Stalin period as part of glasnost,Gorbachev
made precisely the same miscalculation, and destroyed anyremaining
moral legitimacy for the continued rule of the Communist Party.Each
regime adopted elements of democratic ideas partly because itthought
it was the right thing to do, partly to avoid trouble, butalso
partly to make itself more acceptable to the United States; andeach
succeeded only in destroying itself. The most dangerous moment fora
bad government, de Tocqueville famously argued, is when it startson
the path to reform. In effect, the United States acted as boththe
source of the ideas that began the process of reform and the
instigator of a Tocquevillian revolution.

The Soviet case differed from the South African mainly in thatU.S.
policies toward it were much more reactive. The United States
sometimes acted in response to Soviet adventurism oraggression,
sometimes as a result of its own weakness, and sometimesbecause
domestic opponents of U.S. policy forced changes upon an
administration.

The Nixon/Kissinger détente is an example of a policy frameworkthat
arose largely from U.S. weakness--the result of the war inVietnam,
Watergate, and the need to prevent the Soviets using WestGermany's
Ostpolitik to destroy NATO. And yet it was a policy ofprofound
importance that did as much to undermine the defenses of communismin
the Soviet Union as any other American policy.

A different kind of détente was subsequently pursued by theCarter
administration, which soon developed its own form ofunpredictability
in the form of basic differences in approach between Secretaryof
State Cyrus Vance and National Security Advisor ZbigniewBrzezinski.
More from the pressure of events than from the differences amonghis
advisors, the president who began his administration by rejectingan
"inordinate fear of communism" ended it by initiating adefense
build-up in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

But, again, this period of division and weakness in U.S. policydid
much to undermine the Soviets. It lured them into over-confidenceand
complacency; Moscow over-extended itself abroad, let down itsguard
at home, and became dependent on trade and investment with theWest.
The full consequences of this did not become clear until theCarter
administration was succeeded by an administration more openlyand
definitively anti-Soviet than any since Truman's. The Reagan
administration banned most trade with the Soviet Union,suspended
Aeroflot's landing rights, reduced cultural, scientific, andexchange
programs, held no summit meeting for over four years, restrictedthe
entry of Soviet visitors, and generally intensified its effortsto
isolate the "evil empire." Covertly, it sought to strike at thevery
sources of Soviet power, and, through the Reagan Doctrine, atits
forays into the Third World.

The reasons for those sharp alternations of policy towardboth
countries varied. The interesting question is: What was theimpact,
not of the discrete policies themselves, but of their propensityto
displace one another with such bewildering frequency?

A Profoundly Subversive Force

Richard Nixon appeared to give the Soviets something theydesperately
desired: a recognition of and legitimacy to their claims overEastern
Europe. While Nixon dismissed "The Basic Principles ofRelations,"
the charter for détente, in two lines in his memoirs, to theSoviets
it was the major achievement of the 1972 summit. But thefatal
consequence of this achievement was the largest infusion ofWestern
influence into Russia since Peter the Great.

The jamming of Western broadcasts was suspended. As a result, inany
given week about 20 percent of the adult Soviet populationwas
exposed to at least one of the four major Western broadcasters:the
BBC, Deutsche Welle, the Voice of America, and Radio Liberty.
Vladimir Bukovsky tells the story of getting together with friendsto
sign a petition in support of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's 1970Nobel
Prize:

"As usual, Yakir. . .called around Moscow to collect thesignatures
of friends. Somebody jokingly suggested that he should ring
Khrushchev--after all, it was on his orders that Solzhenitsynhad
first been published. No sooner said than done. Nina Petrovna
Khrushchev answered the telephone and passed it to Nikita."

'Have you heard the news?' asked Yakir. 'They've givenSolzhenitsyn
the Nobel Prize!' 'Of course, of course,' said Nikitacheerfully,
'I've heard. I get all the news from the BBC.'

Trade and investment, cultural and scientific exchanges, tourismand
cooperative ventures burgeoned, and with them, the number ofSoviets
who were exposed to reality, as opposed to the lies fed them bytheir
government. In the course of the 1970s, Soviet trade with theWest
tripled, and the American share of Western exports to theSoviet
Union grew from 8 percent in 1974 to 20 percent in 1979. TheSoviet
economy became intertwined with that of the West to the extentthat
the country was no longer autarkic.

This, in turn, made the Soviet Union vulnerable to economicpressure
and global dislocations. Overall Soviet trade, for example, grewto
$52 billion in 1982, before declining to $41.2 billion in 1986,a
reflection above all of the collapse in the price of oil.This
necessitated a sharp reduction in imports, particularly offood.
Grain purchases fell 52 percent in value, even more in tonnage. A20
percent drop in overall trade is drastic enough, but in the lightof
what we subsequently learned about Western miscalculation of thesize
of the Soviet economy, the implications become even moredevastating.
As late as 1991/92, the CIA's World Factbook estimated the1990
Soviet GNP as $2,660 billion. But the World Bank Atlas of1992
estimated only $479 billion for Russia and $121 billion forthe
Ukraine, and The Economist's publication, The World in 1993,guessed
$137 billion for Russia and $9.7 billion for the Ukraine. In lightof
this very steep downward revision, we have to revise sharplyupward
our appraisal of the Soviets' dependence on Western trade tohelp
transform their economy.

What made it doubly difficult for the Soviets was that thetechnology
they were now acquiring itself undermined the very basis ofinternal
Soviet power. In the early phase of computer development,large
mainframe computers strengthened the capacity for centralized
control. But as the emphasis shifted to decentralized systems,it
came instead to threaten authoritarian control. Private possessionof
printing presses or copy machines was forbidden, but everycomputer
or word processor connected to a printer became a potential sourceof
subversion. To prevent that, to locate all computers incentral
institutions under official control, would sacrifice thetechnical
efficiency of the new development. The impact of the computer
revolution on the Soviet Union has been compared to the"creative
destruction" that Joseph Schumpeter saw as characteristic ofperiods
of major technological change. It was more than that.Schumpeter
feared that capitalism might eventually destroy itself. Instead,one
of the greatest ironies of the twentieth century is thatcapitalism,
imported into the citadel of its greatest historical rival, endedup
destroying communism.

The advance guard, peacefully storming the Kremlin walls,was
business. Conservatives in the United States blanched whenAmerican
business, as usual all but innocent of ideology, "cozied up" tothe
Communists; and liberals bent every effort to get Americanbusiness
out of South Africa. Both were wrong. Business was--and is--a
profoundly subversive force. It is highly rational, whichdespotisms
are not and cannot afford to be. It is focused on theconsumers'
needs and wishes, which despotisms never are. It comes ladenwith
dangerous tools: intelligence, information, computers,telephones,
faxes, xerox machines. In retrospect, it is clear that Leninwas
wrong when he said that businessmen would manufacture the ropewith
which communism would hang them. Business may have made the rope,but
it was communism that was strangled by it.

In the case of apartheid the process was slightly different, butthe
result was the same. In South Africa, U.S. businesses soughtto
demonstrate their principles and protect their position byapplying
non-racial standards throughout their operations--theso-called
Sullivan Principles. Their individual actions may have beensmall,
but when followed by other foreign and South African businesses,the
cumulative result was revolutionary. It created a dynamic sectorof
the economy based on integration and racial equality. Dr.Hendrik
Verwoerd, the architect of apartheid, recognized the danger tothe
regime when he said that he preferred a South Africa that waspoor
and separate to one that was rich and integrated.

The Vulnerablility of Elites

Engagement works for reasons that are so obvious that theyare
usually overlooked. Contact with other human beings makes animpact.
It elicits information. It provokes comparison. It induces change.It
subverts. It is ignorance that gives isolated andtightly-controlled
states whatever coherence they possess.

This obvious point was resisted by both Left and Right in theUnited
States for two reasons. Both Left and Right argued--with afine
disregard for consistency where it did not suit theirideological
stance--that contact conferred moral legitimacy on the pariahstate.
And both feared that the United States would be taken for aride.
They feared that the controls in the Soviet Union and

Essay Types: Essay