This time the Romney campaign's gaffe of the week did not come from the candidate. Instead, it was the explanation from a senior aide of how once Romney secures the Republican nomination he can revise his positions for the general-election campaign as easily as erasing an image on an Etch A Sketch. This explanation does not tell us anything new about the candidate, whose record as a political chameleon was already well established. The incident brings to mind Michael Kinsley's definition of a gaffe as “when a politician tells the truth—some obvious truth he isn't supposed to say.”
Some in the hard-core Republican base to whom the candidates in the primary campaign have been appealing are apt to be disturbed by the aide's comment. And Romney's Republican opponents are striving to exploit the remark to the fullest, to the extent of distributing Etch A Sketches to reporters. Conversely, some voters open to backing Romney in the general election may be reassured by the idea that he doesn't really believe in all that right-wing stuff he has been emitting in the campaign so far—although that leaves open the question of whether it makes sense to vote for someone out of a belief that he does not mean what he says in his campaign. As for figuring out what Romney really believes and how a President Romney would act, most speculation about that will center on domestic matters, such as whether a being a self-described severe conservative squares with enacting Romneycare. But let us speculate for a moment about foreign policy.
The starting point for any such speculation is the realization that, as Jacob Heilbrunn puts it, “Romney's overwhelming desire has been to please whatever audience he is before” and that “his only sincere belief appears to be in his own personal advancement.” His positions will be determined above all by whatever it takes to win the next election he faces. Thus the policies of a first-term President Romney, assuming he is not content to be a one-term president, would be determined above all by whatever will help him to win a second term. Predicting the policies of such a first term is less a matter of determining what Romney “really” believes (on many foreign-policy matters he probably does not know what he really believes) than of forecasting how the politics of major issues will play over the next four years.
Romney's November opponent, President Obama, already has a track record in office that provides a basis for extrapolating his behavior in a second term. That record is not a Romney-like one of being shaped overwhelmingly by what plays well politically. Some aspects of that record on important issues, such as an initial (albeit later abandoned) resistance to continued Israeli expansion of settlements on occupied territory, have not been vote-winners. One cannot just extrapolate in a straight line from a first to a second term, however. Although a second-term President Obama would continue to feel some legacy effects of old political baggage (especially on the war in Afghanistan), a big difference from the first term would be that he would never be running for office again. That fact and the political freedom it implies would be one of the most important determinants of the policies of a second Obama term. And it would mark a big difference from what would determine the policies of a first Romney term, which would be whatever it takes to win a second Romney term.
So the choice will be between a foreign policy that is shaped overwhelmingly by whatever is seen to be politically advantageous and a foreign policy that is shaped by a less politically minded sense of what is in U.S. interests. A populist response would be to go with the first alternative, out of a belief in democratic principles and in the idea that, in foreign as well as domestic policy, the people ought to determine what is in their own interests. One problem with this view is that what a leader sees as politically advantageous is not to be equated with whatever a majority of the populace, not coached and not manipulated by the leadership, happens to believe. This is illustrated by what the George W. Bush administration did in launching an offensive war in Iraq, which most Americans would not have supported without the administration's ardent pro-war sales campaign lasting over a year. Bush came into the presidency, as Romney would, as a novice and cypher as far as foreign policy was concerned. During his first few months in office, he fumbled around for a defining and inspiring theme for his presidency. After 9/11, he figured he found that theme in being a “war president.” He bought into the neoconservatives' Iraq scheme as a way of developing that theme and reaping a political advantage from it—which he did long enough to win a second term. The disastrous consequences of that choice, and the resulting negative impact on his popularity, did not fully set in until his second term, when it no longer mattered as far as reelection was concerned.
Even without a reprise of anything like that episode, a more basic problem with the populist view of foreign policy is that often most of the people do not know what is in their best interests (even if they later come to realize that some things they earlier favored were not in their interests). That observation sounds elitist, of course, and it would be poison for any politician to utter it openly. But the truth of it has been demonstrated by something like the Vietnam War, which was not caused by anything like the neocon manipulations that led the United States into Iraq. Even without coaching or manipulation by leaders, most Americans believed in the early 1960s that it was necessary to draw a line in Vietnam to stop a worldwide communist advance.
The popular impulses of the American people, at different times in U.S. history, have been a force either for extraordinary accomplishment or for bad misdirections. Those impulses provided the energy to win World War II and to sustain the efforts needed to prevail in the Cold War. Over the coming four years, nothing like those campaigns will be what is needed to protect and advance U.S. interests. During the next presidential term, a foreign policy that responds largely to popular impulses is more likely to result in misdirection than in accomplishment. The popular American need to see a foreign enemy as a negative national reference point is apt to result in needless conflict and to miss opportunities for fruitful cooperation. The impulse to slay foreign dragons also carries the danger of overextension at a time when the limits of national resources need more attention than ever. The president for the next four years needs to draw up a foreign policy (not necessarily on an Etch A Sketch) that is shaped by something other than just what will sell at the next election.
Romney Image: Jessica Rinaldi
If you want a large laboratory to study what works and what doesn't in dealing with the competing claims of ethnic, racial, religious or other communities defined in terms of mostly permanent ascriptive characteristics, look to India. It has castes among its majority Hindus. It has religious division between the Hindus and others, primarily Muslims. And it has long had institutionalized preferences governing the allocation of jobs, educational opportunities and other benefits. This version of affirmative action, or “reservation” as the Indians call it, dates back to the writing of the country's constitution. Originally the system was aimed at giving advantages to what are officially called “Scheduled Castes” or more commonly “backward castes,” which means members of the lower rungs of the Hindu caste hierarchy, as well as to some tribal groups.
Over subsequent years more groups demanded, unsurprisingly, to be included in the system of preferences. Politicians, seeing opportunities to gain votes by being responsive to such demands, duly expanded the ever-more comprehensive and complicated system of quotas for desirable things such as government jobs. Far from undoing the caste structure in India, the system of preferences codified it.
The longer the system of preferences was in existence and the more that advancement in life depended on those preferences, the more resentful those left outside the system became. In India, this now especially means Muslims. An irony is that most Indian Muslims are descended from low-caste Hindus—especially the lowest of the low, now called Dalits—who converted long ago to escape what were then the miseries of low-caste life. Present-day Muslims look enviously at their low-caste Hindu neighbors who have used preferences to lift themselves out of the worst poverty. This means still more demands to expand the preferential system further, with more politicians ready to oblige. The regional party that won a recent election in the largest and poorest Indian state, Uttar Pradesh, has promised to establish educational and employment quotas for Muslims.
As the quotas continue to expand, those in the backward castes who were the original beneficiaries look with suspicion at the newcomers. Seeing a zero-sum world of coveted government jobs and educational slots, they are afraid that preferences for someone else will mean fewer opportunities for themselves. Commenting on the possible establishment of quotas for Muslims in Uttar Pradesh, a seventy-one-year-old Dalit said, “I do not believe that Muslims are more backward. They are doing better.”
For still more consequences of such preferences, move across the eastern Indian Ocean to Malaysia, where ethnic Malays constitute a majority and have controlled the government since independence but where the minority Chinese have been more economically successful. A comprehensive system of preferences for Malays has been in place for over four decades. Within the past couple of years, the prime minister has spoken of loosening that system in response to its increasingly obvious drawbacks, but the preferences are still in place. One of the drawbacks is the encouragement of cronyism (something that has been seen in some minority set-aside programs in the United States). Another has been an entrepreneurial brain drain of ethnic Chinese fed up with the preferential system—a drain that works to the disadvantage of the Malaysian economy.
The United States should take into account the lessons from these experiences whenever it gets involved in any situation overseas (as it has more than once in recent years) in which it has some influence over how conflicting communal interests are handled. It also should heed the lessons as they apply to its own society, at a time when the U.S Supreme Court is about to look again at the American version of preferential treatment.
The tendentious and careless use of historical comparisons and analogies has long contributed to some of the biggest foreign-policy follies, such as the Vietnam War. Seeing a reincarnated Hitler in a two-bit dictator or a reenacted Munich in a decision to avoid a war has perhaps been the most frequent such misuse of history. Now three U.S. senators, as described in a sympathetic puff piece by Jackson Diehl, are reaching into more recent history to argue that getting the United States involved in more wars is a good thing and that they themselves have been both courageous and insightful in taking the lead to see that this happens. The senators—Lindsey Graham, Joe Lieberman and John McCain—whom their staffers affectionately refer to as the “three amigos,” are most immediately interested in getting the United States involved in the civil war in Syria. Not far behind that, they also are itching to bomb, bomb, bomb Iran, with Graham and Lieberman being lead sponsors of a Senate resolution aimed at boxing the U.S. president into doing exactly that.
The amigos describe themselves as repeatedly having been on the right side of recent history by pushing for more military action in situations such as Bosnia, Kosovo, Libya and the “surge” in Iraq. As portrayed by Diehl, the trio's inspired, bellicose leadership keeps running up against others small-mindedly “playing their usual roles,” including the Pentagon cautioning about how tough some of the proposed combat missions are likely to be and “self-styled 'realists' ” pointing out how intervention in a civil conflict may only make it worse. The amigos' confidence remains undimmed. “We have a record of being right,” says McCain. The lesson of the recent history is quite simple, says Lieberman. “What it shows is that civil wars we get involved in can be settled more successfully than civil wars where we don't get involved.”
Would that it be that simple. There are at least three major problems with this use of history.
One is that the situations being discussed are not at all similar. Getting Serbs to stop doing what they were doing in Bosnia or Kosovo is not at all comparable to winning a civil war against a Syrian regime that is fighting for its life and still enjoys substantial backing from domestic elements who fear the alternative. It is a comparison not just between apples and oranges but between apples and pumpkins. Even the more recent Libyan revolt, another part of the Arab Spring, was far different from the circumstances in Syria, mostly because of the sectarian dimension in the latter country.
Second, Diehl and the amigos are too quick to declare what is the right or the wrong side of history in the recent cases they cite. Diehl states that “the consensus in Washington” is that the surge in Iraq “rescued the United States from catastrophe in Iraq and made possible the withdrawal that Obama completed as president last year.” What consensus? Probably the only conclusion clear enough to warrant that word is that the surge contributed—along with other factors, most notably the Sunni Awakening—to a reduction in the violence in Iraq that peaked in 2006 and 2007. But the surge failed miserably to accomplish its principal declared objective, which was to facilitate political reconciliation among the contending Iraqi factions. Many of the defense intelligentsia in Washington who have been most keenly interested in the Iraq War argued against completion of the withdrawal because of the continued bitter internal conflict in Iraq that the surge failed to resolve. As for Libya, it is far too early to declare that intervention wise or successful given the continued instability, atrocities and division to the point of secession in that country, not to mention the terrible example set by reneging on the deal with Qaddafi under which he gave up terrorism and development of weapons of mass destruction.
Third, the history being invoked is highly selective. Nowhere in Diehl's piece is there mention of what was by far the biggest act of military intervention that the three amigos supported. They all voted in 2002 in favor of a Congressional resolution authorizing it. That's right: the original launching of the Iraq War—the intervention with the trillion-dollar price tag, thousands of American dead, tens of thousands of American wounded and even more Iraqis dead, along with more extensive damage to U.S. interests still being incurred. Of course, we can't say in that instance that the United States intervened in a civil war; in Iraq the United States precipitated a civil war. But for the amigos to say smugly that “we have a record of being right” about the application of military force while ignoring a blunder so big and so costly that it outweighs dozens of Kosovos would be—were it not for the tragic nature of the consequences of this blunder—laughable.
The documents that were seized from the late Osama bin Laden's compound in Abbottabad and into which Washington Post columnist David Ignatius was given an exclusive glimpse included tidbits such as bin Laden talking about killing President Obama and General David Petraeus. But such tidbits were not the most interesting aspect of the documents. The papers evidently confirm that bin Laden in his latter days was not really commanding operations. The talk about killing the president was just talk and not a serious threat. More significant is what the documents say about bin Laden the propagandist—about how he saw different themes and issues working to his advantage or disadvantage.
Bin Laden saw as a disadvantage for him and his group the dropping of “war on terror” from the official U.S. lexicon. That phrase—never making sense in the first place, as a war on a tactic—had been subject to interpretations that left many Muslims confused about just who it was the United States was going after. To the extent Muslims believed the United States was going after them, that was good from bin Laden's viewpoint. Not good for him was the more recent and sharper U.S. posture that made it clear that al-Qaeda was the target of this war. Bothered by that, bin Laden mused about possibly changing the name of his group.
The one issue that bin Laden evidently stressed to his associates should be emphasized publicly above all others was Palestine. He criticized affiliates and followers for justifying their actions as responses to local matters rather than being performed on behalf of the preeminent cause for all Muslims, which was Palestine. In making such admonitions, bin Laden was recognizing the enormous salience the Palestinian issue continues to have for for Muslims generally. It has all the ingredients for a cause well suited for exploitation by extremists. At its core is the injustice of indefinite occupation by a conquering power of land that is home to Muslims. On top of that is a added religious dimension to the conflict and the perception of the occupying power as a kind of Western, Judeo-Christian imposition on the Middle East.
That bin Laden was issuing such instruction is a further indication of the power of Palestine as an extremist cause célèbre. Bin Laden's first wish probably would have been to overthrow the House of Saud in Arabia. His strategy of going after the far enemy in the form of the United States as a way of defeating the near enemies in Arab capitals was never more than a minority view in jihadist circles. In this respect he did not see eye-to-eye with his onetime mentor Abdullah Azzam, who believed the first priority of jihad ought to be the liberation of Muslim lands from non-Muslim occupiers. That is why Azzam was a leader in supporting the Afghan jihad against Soviet occupation, and why he—himself a Palestinian—believed liberation of Palestinian land from Israeli occupation needed to be given foremost priority. The Palestinian issue has the power it does not because individual terrorist leaders like bin Laden necessarily make it their first personal priority but instead because it has tremendous resonance among the Muslim populations to which they appeal. The reason that supporters and rank-and-file practitioners of anti-U.S. terrorism cite most frequently for their hatred of the United States is U.S. condoning of Israeli occupation of Palestinian-inhabited land and of other Israeli actions that involve the killing or subjugation of Muslims.
There are many good reasons not to let the Israeli-Palestinian issue fester. Its role as a readily exploitable extremist cause is one of them.
The 140-square-mile patch of misery known as the Gaza Strip suffers from two degrees of inattention. First, any hope of being lifted permanently out of the misery rests on Israeli-Palestinian diplomacy that is now moribund. Benjamin Netanyahu’s war-mongering on Iran has succeeded in pushing the unresolved plight of Palestinians almost entirely off the Israeli-American agenda. This was demonstrated earlier this month when a visit to Washington by Netanyahu and a major AIPAC conference were remarkable for how little either one explicitly addressed the unresolved Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Second, to the extent that conflict gets any attention, the attention focuses more on the West Bank (including East Jerusalem), where continued Israeli colonization of conquered land is pushing a two-state solution ever closer to infeasibility. There once were a few thousand Israeli settlers in the Gaza Strip (in contrast to the half million in the West Bank), but as these numbers indicate, Israelis never coveted this piece of sand as much as they do lands to the east. Seven years ago, Ariel Sharon pulled Israelis out of the strip, successfully dealing with the few diehard settlers who resisted.
Since then, Israeli governments seem to have wished that the Gaza Strip could somehow just go away. That not being possible, they instead have dealt with it as if it were a den of unruly, infectious creatures that could be cordoned off, with an occasional overt use of force to swat the creatures down. The well-being of the people who really live in the strip, and the ways in which Israel's assault on that well-being redound to Israel’s own disadvantage, do not seem to have figured into Israeli government thinking.
Whether or not anyone gives due ethical regard to the welfare of Gazans, the short-sighted cordon-and-swat Israeli approach will continually make the Gaza Strip a locus of trouble and instability. The most recent reminder of that has occurred within the past week. The trouble began with the latest Israeli swat: the killing last Friday with an air-to-ground missile of Zuhair al-Qissi, the leader of a militant group called the Popular Resistance Committees. Palestine Islamic Jihad took the lead in retaliating by firing rockets back into Israel, which in turn led to more Israeli airstrikes in the Gaza Strip. By Tuesday, the Egyptians had brokered a truce, which was still shaky as of mid-week.
The latest round of fighting demonstrates anew how Israel’s iron-fisted approach of blockades, airstrikes and invasions never has and never will bring peace to Israel’s southwestern border. It is little more than three years since Operation Cast Lead, a full-scale Israeli invasion that killed around 1400 Palestinians, including hundreds of civilians, and inflicted such extensive physical damage to the Gaza Strip that, combined with the effects of the previous blockade, it caused a humanitarian crisis that in some ways continues today.
Neither Israeli nor Palestinian leaders seem anxious for a new war right now in Gaza. Some Israeli politicians have warned that such a war would risk undoing the success the war-mongering talk about Iran has had in diverting attention from the Palestinians’ plight and focusing it instead on the Iranian nuclear program. The successful operation of Israel's Iron Dome anti-rocket defensive system has relieved what might otherwise have been greater popular pressure on Israeli leaders to strike back faster and even more forcefully.
There nonetheless is talk in Israel about launching at some point another war against Gazans. Israel's finance minister, Yuval Steinitz, said “sooner or later, and I don't want to quote dates, we will have to do a 'root canal.'” The talk reflects another Israeli idée fixe, one that is just as short-sighted as the reliance on cordon-and-swat: an absolute refusal to have anything to do with Hamas except to try to crush it (and occasionally to exchange prisoners with it). This obsession continues no matter what Hamas does and no matter how substantial a portion of Palestinian opinion it may represent. Hamas has not been involved in the most recent round of rocket firing, and it was Hamas that sought Egyptian help to negotiate a cease-fire. Hamas's staying on the sidelines of this latest round follows months in which it has spoken more of moving away from violent resistance and has tried anew to reconcile with the Fatah of Mahmoud Abbas. Steinitz's comments nonetheless indicate that making things as difficult as possible for Hamas is at least as important to the Israeli government as stopping any rockets. Israel “cannot accept in the long run,” he said, a Hamas regime in Gaza.
The counterproductive (if one were interested in peace, that is) Israeli attitudes at play are vividly displayed in a paper published this week by Efraim Inbar and Max Singer of the Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, a version of which appeared as an op-ed in the Jerusalem Post. Their piece is titled “The Opportunity in Gaza”—it's interesting how a violent, destructive clash is viewed as a “opportunity.” They argue for a full-scale invasion of the Gaza Strip now—one even bigger and more damaging than Cast Lead, with the objective of destroying as much of Hamas as possible. They blatantly recommend exploiting the U.S. electoral calendar, arguing that “until November, the U.S. is likely to restrain rather than promote international action against Israel in response to an action in Gaza.” They say “deterrence created by Cast Lead” is “wearing thin,” and “military action now could restore deterrence.” Someone should point out to Inbar and Singer than when you repeatedly have to go to war that means deterrence is not working. But they don't seem to care, fully accepting the prospect that in the future “Israel will probably have to 'mow the grass' again.” There is not a single word in their paper about the lives and livelihoods of the residents of the Gaza Strip, or the effect what they are recommending would have on those lives.
May both Palestinians and Israelis be spared from such perverse thinking.
Image: Al Jazeera/Wikimedia Commons
It is common knowledge that the wording and framing of questions heavily influence the results of public-opinion polls. Some good recent examples concern American attitudes toward the Iranian nuclear issue. A new CBS/New York Times poll seems to show a majority of Americans favoring the use of military force against Iran, with 51 percent supporting and 36 percent opposing. But look at the question that was asked: “Would you support or oppose the United States taking military action against Iran in order to prevent it from developing a nuclear weapons program?” There is nothing about diplomacy or other means to avoid an Iranian nuclear weapon. The question carries the implicit assumption that the choice is binary, with the development of an Iranian nuke the certain alternative if military force is not employed. There is nothing to get the respondent thinking about the full consequences of a particular policy choice, including the choice of military action. (I expect the results would have been significantly different if the words “going to war” were substituted for “taking military action,” even though in this instance they are substantively equivalent.) Most important, the question incorrectly implies efficacy: that military action really would “prevent” a nuclear-weapons program, rather than at best delaying such a program and most likely leading the Iranians to take a decision they had not already taken to institute such a program.
Another poll, also just out and conducted by the Program on International Policy Attitudes and the University of Maryland, presents questions on the related subject of a possible Israeli military strike, and the results give a substantially different impression. When presented with a choice between an Israeli military strike against the Iranian nuclear program or the United States and other major powers pursuing negotiations, a large majority (69 percent to 24 percent) favor negotiations. When asked how the United States should react if Israel does strike, 25 percent say to give Israel whatever it requests, including military forces, 14 percent favor publicly supporting Israel but not providing military support and 49 percent favor staying neutral, with smaller numbers favoring public opposition to Israel. The reluctance to get involved militarily is all the more significant given that the respondents in this same poll express decidedly pessimistic—unrealistically so—views about the implications of the Iranian program and of an Iranian nuclear weapon. Fifty-eight percent believe (contrary to the publicly expressed U.S. intelligence judgment) that Iran has already decided to produce nuclear weapons and is actively working to do so. Forty-nine percent believe it is very likely and 40 percent somewhat likely that Iran actually will develop nuclear weapons. And 62 percent believe Iran would be likely to use nuclear weapons against Israel “because it is so hostile to Israel.”
The American public's aversion to a new war is not surprising given the experiences of the past decade. The aversion is also reflected in recent trends in American opinion regarding Afghanistan. The expressed aversion would undoubtedly be even clearer if Americans had a more accurate view of the nature of the Iranian nuclear program and a more realistic view of the consequences if Iran did get the bomb. (For an explanation of a more realistic view, I invite readers to see my recent article in the Washington Monthly addressing the subject.)
All of this has implications for war and peace as well as for election-year politics. If Americans could be swayed a bit less by mindless alarmism and a bit more by a sober consideration of what an Iranian nuclear weapon would mean, then their expressed aversion to a war might become so clear than even Republican presidential candidates would no longer see political advantage in saber rattling. And that would be good not only because the saber rattling benefits Iran and especially Iranian hard-liners but also because stopping it would at least marginally improve the quality of political debate in the United States.
Image: Shreyans Bhansali
That national arbiter of moral behavior, Rick Santorum, said something Monday about the previous day's shooting spree in Afghanistan that stood out from some of his earlier statements. He said that the “proper authorities” should apologize for the incident. Just a couple of weeks ago Santorum castigated President Obama for apologizing for the last previous big problem in American relations with the Afghans; the burning of prison Korans. One is tempted just to discard all of this as campaign hooey, especially given that much of the other "apologizing" for which Santorum and Mitt Romney have criticized Obama is imaginary. If Santorum is saying, however, the United States should apologize for one incident but not for the other, perhaps he is making some distinctions that warrant a more careful look.
From his comments this week, it appears that intent is an important distinction for Santorum. He said an apology for the shooting rampage is in order as long as it is determined that it was a “deliberate act” by the soldier—“that it's not a mistake, it wasn't something that was inadvertent.” A problem that immediately comes to mind with this criterion is that it does not correspond with the role of apologies in everyday life, the overwhelming majority of which are for inadvertent actions (or inaction owing to forgetfulness). I apologize if I accidentally bump into someone in a crowded hallway or spill a bit of my beverage on someone's clothing. If the bump or the spill were deliberate, then we have an entirely different situation and an apology is probably the least likely thing on my mind. Another problem with the intention test as applied to the incidents in Afghanistan is that the volition in question is that of the sergeant who went on the killing spree and the soldiers who torched the Korans. But they aren't the ones doing the apologizing. It's higher-ups—the “proper authorities”—who would apologize, and it is safe to say that those higher authorities did not intend for either incident to occur.
Santorum seemed to address the latter problem when he said about this week's killing rampage, “It’s something that the proper authorities should apologize for, for not doing their job in making sure that something like this wouldn’t happen.” But then why shouldn't the same standard be applied to the burning of the Korans? If anything, it probably would have been easier for the higher-ups involved in the Koran episode to prevent the incident, merely by issuing sufficiently clear and detailed instructions to subordinates, than it was for superior officers to prevent the sergeant from walking off his base at night and shooting people in nearby hamlets.
Another angle about senior-level responsibility came up in connection with the Koran-burning when Santorum stated that far from the United States owing anyone an apology, Afghan President Karzai should have apologized for the anti-American violence that ensued. But it is very unlikely Karzai could have prevented the violence—either the in-the-street variety or the individual murders of American advisers. (If he had enough power and control to prevent the violence, then his position is much stronger than we thought and there certainly is no excuse for continuing a counterinsurgency on his government's behalf.) If the reason for an apology from higher authorities is that they did not prevent an incident that was in their power to prevent, then why should we ask for an apology from Karzai?
The violent reaction to the Koran-burning perhaps involves another distinction that shaped Santorum's view on apologies even though he did not express his position in these terms. A lethal reaction, including cold-blooded murder, to the burning of a religious book—whether the burning was accidental or not—is inexcusable and vastly out of proportion to any purported offense. It is deplorable that anyone should consider ignition of a book to be a rationale to kill. If that's how Santorum views last month's situation, I agree with him. But evidently many Afghans—denizens of a land where long and costly jihads have been fought—see things differently from either Santorum or me.
That gets to another principle about when apologies are in order. The obligation to apologize stems from the effect on the offended party, as seen from the offended party's point of view. If I accidentally spill part of my beverage on your clothing, an apology, and perhaps an offer to pay a dry cleaning bill, is in order because of the effect on you, not because of any inherent badness in what I have done. The foreign policy equivalent of failing to recognize the principle involved is found all too often in policy preferences—which Santorum espouses as much as anyone—that are unilateral, exceptionalist, and based on an assertive form of nationalism that is insufficiently sensitive to the perceptions and preferences of foreign states and their populations. The need to maintain such sensitivity does not just have a moral base, and it definitely is not a matter of subjugating our values to anyone else's. It is instead a matter of realizing how much foreigners over whose interests and values we have ridden roughshod can react in ways that will harm our own interests. It is thus in our interest to maintain and implement policies that give due regard to foreign interests and values—and to apologize when we inadvertently fail to do so.
The only question remaining is whether when a politician such as Santorum favors policies that do ride roughshod over foreign interests and values, he is doing so because he honestly believes that such policies are in U.S. interests or he is espousing them only to pander to the cruder nationalist impulses of the American public. If the former, this is an indication of his unfitness to direct U.S. foreign policy. If the latter, then he is deliberately being disingenuous. And by Santorum's own standards for apologizing, he owes us an apology.
The latest untoward event in the U.S. military expedition in Afghanistan is horrifying any way you look at it. A U.S. Army staff sergeant walked off his base Sunday and, going door-to-door in nearby villages, shot to death at least 16 civilians, including nine children, subsequently setting some of the bodies afire. We Americans can be confident that whatever sort of derangement accounts for this act does not reflect official policy or orders, and that, as our leaders like to reassure others, the action is not representative of the large majority of American military personnel serving in Afghanistan. But what we can be confident of is not necessarily what matters most.
The history of the U.S. military involvement in Afghanistan and of similar expeditions elsewhere—including the Iraq War, punctuated by the abuses at Abu Ghraib—demonstrates two realities about such incidents. One is that in any wars as long and large as these two, such incidents are bound to happen. Their occurrence is a function of having many thousands of men and women in uniform sent to a foreign land to perform the mission, the inability to subject all of them to constant supervision, and the statistical likelihood of aberrant behavior stemming from the weaknesses of any assemblage of people that large as well as from the extra unusual stresses of warfare. Incidents will occur despite reasonable efforts of the command to exert discipline and to prevent them from occurring. The inevitability of their occurrence is part of why we have a military justice system.
The other reality is that many foreigners will interpret the incidents differently from the way we do. They will interpret them as more willful, and more representative of Americans or of what the United States is trying to do, than is the case. The United States suffers from its own power by being the target of assumptions that it always can do whatever it wants to do and can prevent whatever it does not want to happen. No amount of explanations, apologies, or reassurances from U.S. leaders will dispel such perceptions.
The latest incident is one of several that, along with the unpopularity of some of the NATO forces' tactics and the sheer length of those forces' presence in Afghanistan, has made the Western military presence progressively less welcome in that country. The negative Afghan sentiments involved have made it more difficult and dangerous for NATO personnel to do their jobs, as highlighted by the growing number of murders of those personnel by Afghans they are supposed to support and advise. It remains to be seen if reaction to Sunday's shooting spree will be anything like the Afghan response last month to the burning of Korans. If it turns out that the accidental burning of a religious book elicits more anger than the massacre of more than a dozen innocent villagers, it will be one more demonstration that we and the Afghans operate on different wavelengths.
The only appropriate policy response to these developments is to press ahead with military disengagement from Afghanistan. The Western mission already has become very hard to perform, and there are bound to be more incidents that will make it even harder. And yet, some of the same tired arguments for doing otherwise continued to be voiced. Senator John McCain talks of how “if Afghanistan dissolves into a situation where the Taliban were able to take over a chaotic situation, it could easily return to an al-Qaeda base for attacks on the United States of America.” This ignores how the Afghan Taliban, which is not an international terrorist group and cares only about the political and social order inside Afghanistan, has strong reasons not to make the country an al-Qaeda base and suffer again the same kind of fate it did in late 2001.
Then there is Senator Lindsey Graham stating “we can win this thing” and saying that leaving Afghanistan would signal to Iran that the United States was not committed to the region. The idea of hurting the credibility of commitments is an even hoarier notion, one that was very much in evidence in continuing to fight the Vietnam War. It is no more valid now than it was then, and is not the way we would assess the commitments of other states. As for what being in Afghanistan does to Iran, that's another lesson we should have learned from the Iraq War—which was one of the biggest boosts to Iranian influence in the region that Tehran has enjoyed.
I have been following with a combination of puzzled fascination and profound concern the attempt by the brothers Charles and David Koch to seize control of the Cato Institute. Readers of the National Interest website know that Cato scholars are major contributors to these spaces, and that is one sense in which we readers have a stake in how this power play comes out. I do not pretend to understand Cato's unusual governing structure, which the Koch brothers are trying to manipulate and which includes a small number of nominally-valued “shares” alongside the normal sort of board of directors. But this is not just a non-profit version of inside baseball. A larger stake that the rest of us have in this involves nothing less than the integrity of policy debate and policy analysis in this country.
The Koch brothers evidently are attempting to latch Cato to a partisan (in this case, Republican) cause. That is fundamentally different from policy analysis being identified with a particular school of thought or even ideology. It is fair to say of a Cato product, “That's a libertarian viewpoint, of course.” But with or without that ideological label, the discussion is all about substance. Whether at the level of general ideology or specific policy issues, it is still about substance. And there is no reason to doubt that the arguments are genuine or to suspect that they are merely a cover for something else.
Once the purpose of argumentation becomes the advancement of a particular political party or candidate, that is no longer the case. What are ostensibly arguments about policy are only tools for accomplishing something else. Sometimes the policies being advocated correspond with the genuine positions of a political leader or candidate, but not necessarily. All of this makes policy debate less useful as a means either of public education or of arriving at sound policies. We see numerous examples of this unfortunate pattern in the current race for the Republican presidential nomination. The candidates' back-and-forth on Romneycare, for example, has been pretty useless as a way of understanding what works and what doesn't work in health care at either the state or the federal level. The arguments are just means for Romney's opponents to bash him for inconsistency or for his supporters to defend his record.
I have high regard for the quality of Cato's work, which has filled an important role of clear and disciplined analysis from a libertarian perspective. (Disclosure: I have collaborated in the past with Cato scholars.) Losing that would be something that Republicans as well as Democrats, non-libertarians as well as libertarians (and even anti-libertarians) ought to regret. It would be one more thing in Washington that would be surrendered to tribal partisanship.
Attorney General Eric Holder's speech aimed at justifying the killing overseas of U.S. citizens believed to be involved in terrorism has received sharp criticism along with some compliments. Many of the criticisms appear justified.
We still have a problem with insufficient clarity and transparency in such operations. The attorney general's statement was a speech bereft of the citations and precedents one would find in a formal legal brief or opinion. We keep hearing about a classified memorandum that the executive branch considers as filling that role, but not even members of Congress have gotten to see it. Mr. Holder stressed in his speech that due process, as mentioned in the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution, is not to be equated with judicial process, and that is true. But we evidently just have to take it on faith from the executive branch that there is such a process underlying the killings that is sufficiently due and thorough to satisfy the constitutional requirement. We never get to see the process or have a chance to fully understand it.
One other problem nags me that I have not seen so far in the criticisms. This whole procedure is supposedly targeted at members of al-Qaeda (or as the attorney general occasionally puts it, “al-Qaeda and associated forces.” The idea seems to be that al-Qaeda is an identifiable, clearly definable hostile entity with which the United States is at war, and thus similar rules and procedures can apply to bumping off members of that group as would apply to killing members of the armed forces of a state at war with the United States. Holder even made reference to the targeted killing—although the term wasn't used back then—of Admiral Yamamoto during World War II in the Pacific. If a U.S citizen had joined the Japanese navy during World II that would have been a clearly defined act resulting in clearly defined membership, and using any means possible to kill such a traitor in the midst of a war would not have been a matter of much controversy.
But al-Qaeda is nothing like the Japanese navy. It is a diffuse, ill-defined movement surrounding a battered core group. It has become all the more diffuse and ill-defined in recent years. The term “al-Qaeda” gets applied variously to anything from what is left of the core group under the command of Ayman al-Zawahiri to any element with a penchant for violent transnational jihadist ideology. Some groups—some of those “associated forces”—have adopted the al-Qaeda brand name, but whether or not a group has adopted that name is not a good indicator of what it is all about and what sort of threat it poses to the United States.
Even if al-Qaeda were not such an ill-defined group, what constitutes being a member of al-Qaeda? Unlike someone joining a foreign state's military force, it does not necessarily mean donning a uniform and being issued an ID card. In many cases “joining” is little more than expressing agreement with certain objectives. Of course, the attorney general laid out other criteria, such as posing an imminent threat to U.S. interests, before someone would come under the procedures he was discussing. But in effect another criterion for determining whether someone comes under those procedures has to do with expressing support for certain goals and ideologies. And that comes perilously close to subjecting a citizen to long-distance administratively determined execution partly because he holds certain beliefs.
This problem is not solely a matter for the executive branch. Congress could and should do more to clarify lines, just as it ought to do more to clarify the still fuzzy law about indefinite detention of U.S. citizens suspected of terrorism. The counterterrorist tool in question should not necessarily be discarded, but given the importance of the other principles and values at stake, we deserve something more by way of clarification and justification than what the attorney general gave us.