Archives for posts with tag: foreign policy

If we’re doomed to repeat history because people don’t remember it, those of us with some sense of the ebb and flow of human behavior can at least have a front row seat to what happens.
I thought of this while reading about developments in the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. A Saudi human rights activist has just been sentenced to a 10 year jail term for criticizing the government (such as it is) there. Put bluntly, this is not the behavior of a regime at ease with its own power. However, it does point to a worrying future even for those of us not subject to the arbitrary whims of feudalism in action. The reason is that Saudi Arabia matters to us here in the US, and if we don’t take care we can find ourselves once more pulled into events abroad in which we have no influence, or worse, where our actions are purely reactionary, as we try to make sense of events, governments and individuals of whom we are ignorant.
A reductionist view of America’s interventions abroad and their causes might go something like this: Once we had become a strong power, around 1900, we set about serving our industry by becoming a power believing in free trade and the propagation of “American values”. This idealistic strain motivated our participation in the Spanish-American war, at least partially. However, while we were flexing our newfound military powers very different factors were motivating actors in other nations. Primarily, thus came down to the incestuous and fragmented relationship between the powers of the old world. While France had veered between Republicanism and the ancient ways and Great Britain had evolved a democratic form of government while retaining their royalist trappings, Germany and Russia both had hereditary leaders who were fundamentally unsuited to governance. The intersection of these two on history’s stage shows why genetic inheritance is a terrible way to choose who gets to be in charge. In Germany, Kaiser Wilhelm II was fundamentally flawed as a human being, let alone to be the head of Europe’s newest and strongest power, veering as he did between unjustified confidence and deep despair. He also had an extremely unhealthy personal identification of the state with himself. For one thing he felt on a personal level that Germany ought to have a navy fit to challenge that of Great Britain, with whose royal house, he was related. His determination to pursue this goal, despite any genuine geostrategic reason for it, ignited an arms race in Europe which drew away resources that could have been used for far better ends. Why did he do this? One could go back a few decades to his relationship with the one individual who actually had created the modern German state, Otto von Bismarck. While a nobleman, Bismarck was above all else a pragmatic, hardheaded realist. Arguments of divine guidance from on high held absolutely no water with him. Whatever one may think of his politics now, over a century removed, he both created the modern German state, and diffused the dislocative process of urbanization which threatened the social order by the introduction of what we now know as public health care and welfare. Hardly the actions of a purblind reactionary. However, there was only one Bismarck, and when the Kaiser forced him from power, there was no counterweight to Wilhelm’s own guidance. As noted, this was based on his own view of himself as the personification of martial teutonic virtue. Perhaps in compensation for the fact that he had, in fact, no direct military experience, he was extremely aggressive in advocating military solutions to “problems”, such as Germany’s need for a “place in the sun” alongside other colonial powers, which were primarily diplomatic in nature. As noted, his stubborn and somewhat childish, desire for a big German navy rattled not just sabers, but also the certainties of his counterparts on the continent. In an age when nationalism was becoming increasingly important as a means for the newly-created urban masses to form some form of identification, his constant calls for military strength and aggressiveness as the primary virtues of the new state were akin to adding kindling to a tinderbox.
Separated by a thousand miles, Russia was suffering its own reaction to the “leadership” of a man who had none of the qualities needed for such a description. Nicholas II had a father, Alexander, who had begun the process, albeit slowly, of bringing Russia into modern times. In the context of Russia, this meant somewhere along the timeline of a hundred years or so behind an actual modern nation such as the UK or US. Serfs, for instance, were to have some rights. While there was thus a push from above to reform, there were factions which wished for a total and clean break from the past. One of those elements caused Alexander’s death by a bomb, and was the mechanism for Nicholas’ ascension to the throne.
Two anecdotes, perhaps apocryphal, can serve to describe Nicholas’ unsuitability for the job. He was once said to have remarked to an intimate that there was nothing he would actually have liked more than to leave the court and its responsibilities for the sake of being a simple farmer. And he was reported to have claimed that every true Russian loved him because God was just. While this might be a nice thing to think, it’s hardly a manifest on which to base action.
The interaction of these two kings was, to modern eyes, simply weird. Even as he was thinking of waging war against Nicholas, Wilhelm often wrote personal, handwritten letters addressed familiarly to “Dear Nicky” in which he presumed to tell his distant cousin how to govern Russia and deal with other (non-German) pesky foreigners. Nicholas, for his part, worried about what the court, not government, of Great Britain might think of his actions. It was the fact that these idiots were in charge of the two most powerful land armies on the continent which made the First World War inevitable. Without the expansionistic desire of Wilhelm, Germany would not have had any reason to go beyond its strength in land warfare, and Britain would not have felt alarmed enough to forge strong alliances with Russia and France. Without Nicholas’ weak, and worse, reactionary, leadership, Russia might not have had such strong social tensions that made revolution practically inevitable, and led to the Soviet Union.
Again, this is a reductionist view, but without two hereditary rulers in positions for which they were patently unsuited, it is quite possible there would have been no First World War, no communist revolution in Russia, and thus no Lenin. The murder of a minor duke in a small nation would not have led to tens of millions dying if these rulers hadn’t aligned their personal prestige with that of their nations, and that of their nations with “blood relatives” fighting amongst each other in a small, relatively unimportant, place. If there had been no First World War, Germany would in all probability never had had Hitler come to power and there would have been no Second World War. If there had been no Lenin, there would probably have been no Stalin, and thus after the second World War no Cold War. If no Cold War, America would have never gotten involved in either Korea or Vietnam. As an aside, there would not have been any deposition of Mossadegh in Iran in 1953, or Allende in Chile in 1972, both occurrences which created a reservoir of ill will with which we are still dealing, even if we did eventually win the bigger fight against communism.
History matters.
My point is this: when it is obvious that somebody is completely, patently and obviously unsuited for power, it behooves others to pay attention when that individual seems to be in danger of gaining power. The wrong people at the top, unchecked, can make decisions which have repercussions far beyond the borders of their own country. This is why democracy, as Churchill famously said, is the worst possible form of government, except for the alternatives. Hereditary leadership, as an alternative, is close to being the worst of all.
Coming back to Saudi Arabia, it would seem that there is some danger of ancient Russian history repeating itself. A reformist (somewhat cautious, but still) king nearing the end of his reign, while the heir to the throne seems, for all intents and purposes, ready to rule through divine inspiration and a return to the tried and true methods of repression. Is this a fair assessment? Hard to say, as secretive as the royal family of Saudi Arabia is, but piecing together reports seems to make it plausible. The worst part of having a single absolute ruler is that other nations, such as the US, cannot make decisions in how to handle the relationship on the basis of rational political calculus, but rather on the basis of a single individual’s psychology. Especially when that nation is one which has indirectly already caused the death of more Americans in a single attack since Pearl Harbor, this is worrisome. If Saudi Arabia really wants our military protection, which they do, I would make it conditional on a check-up of Prince Abdullah every year by the best of our analysts. We cannot continue to support a regime which shares none of our values, and which might well veer crazily to one extreme or the other in the future without some guarantee that the person in charge is at the least, sane and shares at least some of our basic human values.
In a perfect world, of course, the King would have to be a pauper for some years before gaining power, since one of the biggest problems of hereditary rulers is they have no conception of reality. Wilhelm’s childish obsession with boats to rival those of his relatives across the channel can be seen reflected in the Saudi family’s constant one-upmanship of each other with ever-larger private jets. Any normal, sane person, even a rich, normal, sane person would recognize this as compulsive behavior. In the context of practically infinite personal resources on the one hand, and ruthless courtier behavior on the other it makes a sort of twisted sense, but not in the real world. It is, in a word, worrying, that Saudi Arabia seems not only likely to repeat errors of the past, but seems completely oblivious to the fact that it might be doing so. Iron-handedness eventually leads to stagnation at best, else revolution. A revolutionary Saudi Arabia, run by a small band who themselves feel no compunction in sacrificing lives for some greater religion or ideology, and allied to what are still significant and important reserves of oil, would be even worse, but not by much. As Americans, we might choose not to pay attention what goes on there, leaving it to oil company analysts, defense and state department policy people, but if our kids get dragged into the Middle East with guns in their hands and die for no good reason in WW3, we won’t be able to plead ignorance.

Below are some links:
http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/09/world/meast/saudi-arabia-activists-sentenced
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011–13_Saudi_Arabian_protests
http://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/politics/2013/04/saudi-uprising-protests.html

http://www.thenation.com/article/166305/price-dissent-saudi-arabia#

There’s an interesting article in the Atlantic recently which covers the debate over drones (http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2013/04/its-come-to-this-debating-death-by-autopilot/274753/), questioning whether they should be regulated as a new class of weapons.
When I was a teenager I happened to read a book (http://www.amazon.com/Giving-Up-Gun-Reversion-1543-1879/dp/0879237732), which stayed with me for a long time. It told the story of how feudal Japan dealt with a terrifying new military technology, in this case, firearms. As a quick recap: The Japanese around 1500 were a people constantly fighting each other in a form of clan warfare, the era of the Shoguns. Into this internecine picture came Portuguese traders bearing the fruits of European technology, the most important of which, to the militarized Japanese eyes at least, were firearms. The Japanese, fighting all the time as they were, quickly adopted, and even improved on, this new technology. The problem which arose wasn’t that more people started dying in battle, however, but rather that suddenly the elite of Japan, the samurai, could be felled by a single peasant. Driven by an ingrained code and centuries of tradition of fighting with sword, and gaining honor and thus status by defeating other samurai, the Japanese elites were loath to personally adopt firearms. To their mind, these new weapons were just a better way to mow down the ranks of illiterate peasants who were conscripted by their feudal lords to make up the numbers every time they decided to campaign against one another. That samurai themselves started getting killed, not by other samurai in honorable hand-to-hand combat, but by some social inferior from a distance, was a shock to the system which threatened the entire social order.
What to do?
Clearly, no feudal lord would voluntarily give up firearms on his own. His rivals would just take advantage and defeat him at the earliest opportunity. At the same time, peasants were losing their fear of their “betters”, which threatened all the samurai and shoguns alike. So, an existential threat to an entire culture and way of life, at least for the elites. In order to save face for all concerned, the emperor issued an edict requesting all firearms in the country to be turned in, in order to melt down the metal and create the largest known statue of Buddha. Here was a way for Shoguns to simultaneously disarm and step back from a technology which threatened them all, while saving face. Apparently it worked. Japan remained gun-free until Commodore Perry arrived in the mid-1800s. Social order was restored, peasants became frightened of their betters again, and Shoguns and samurai could go on enjoying an exalted social status.
At about the same time I read that book, in the early 1980s, the world was still threatened by nuclear weapons. That was the existential threat of the era, one that threatened not just a social order, but humanity itself. At the time, there were massive protests in Germany and the UK about American proposals to place medium-range nuclear missiles there. The reason was that the Soviets were known (They made no real secret about it), to be planning the invasion of Western Europe by conventional forces so massive that the American and allied militaries could not hope to withstand them.
Unless we used nukes.
And while the Germans especially were concerned about being the second place after Hiroshima and Nagasaki to have their cities and countryside leveled and irradiated, overall they agreed that it was indeed better to be dead than red, and we put in our missiles. The soviets dithered over whether or not to invade, their military expenditures grew unsustainable, the system grew rotten, and eventually collapsed, and we won the cold war. That’s a simplistic storyline, but broadly true.
It would be fair to say that nuclear weapons were the new military technology that proved so great a threat that they made the entire social order tremble. If the soviets would’ve invaded, we would’ve gone nuclear, they’d probably have retaliated, we would have retaliated, and then, just because of the logic of mutual destruction, we would’ve gone all out: if I’m gonna get wiped out, I’m taking you out too, and everybody dies in the ultimate zero-sum calculation.
Then in a thousand years the cockroaches take over.
The important point here is that nukes were scary not just to the ordinary soldiers who would’ve been vaporized in the first couple of strikes, but that they directly threatened the elites of both sides. Dr. Strangelove notwithstanding, living in a cave for a couple centuries as the only alternative to fighting isn’t very appealing to anyone, even delusional generals, politicians and tycoons (Or apparatchiks).
We now live in a world which, to my mind at least, is far less frightening. Nuclear reduction treaties have been successful in reducing stockpiles (Incidentally saving both sides tons of money in maintenance, research and upkeep), and a future is in sight where, while total disarmament might be too utopian, nuclear weapons number in the mere dozens. Enough to be a deterrent to any crazies out there, but not enough, if used, to End Humanity As We Know It.
Drones (unfortunately?), do not meet this test of existential threat. By which I mean, they do not threaten elites. They don’t change the calculus of decision makers, who have, post-cold war, gone back to being primarily obsessed with palace intrigues of various kinds (“How can I score points on talk shows and protect my bureaucratic turf,” or, in other places, “How can I keep the ear of his most exalted majesty/president for life?”) rather than this or that weapon. For this reason alone, I don’t believe attempts to regulate them out of existence as a class of weapon will meet with much success. They’re simply too easy to use.
Unfortunately the other side has drones too, ones which are much cheaper to manufacture and which are arguably as “smart”. People. Or to be more precise, zealots. What is a suicide bomber, after all, but a means of delivering explosives to a certain place at a certain point in time? However, while a suicide bomber costs nothing but the cost and investment in time of brain-washing and the minimal cost of the explosives themselves, drones are orders of magnitude more expensive. More importantly, while drone strikes might seem “surgical”, they carry extremely high ancillary costs in terms of our moral authority.
This is always a tricky thing to discuss, because there is always an immediate knee jerk reaction from realpolitikers (Basically, those who think the world is red in tooth and claw and might makes right) about anything as soft and fuzzy as morality. But it matters. It matters because, without thinking that the US was a better alternative than the USSR, Germany would never have agreed to host our missiles back in the eighties. It matters because without moral authority (Or, to use the current preferred term, soft power), “they” would have been more successful in converting others to their cause. In an very concrete sense, we couldn’t have won the cold war without it, and we’d all still be threatened with nuclear annihilation.
It is hardly the case that the other side in our current shadowy-ish conflict is better. A so-called religious person who sends some poor slob off to kill as many innocent people as possible just to advance some nonsensical ideology, and incidentally gain more personal power, is worse than despicable. But the perception of power cuts both ways for the US. We have an outsize military and security apparatus,which means that any strike, any at all, against us can be used as a symbolic victory. The perception of relative weakness can be as useful for our enemies as the perception of strength can be a problem for us.
Drones compound our problem of strength when we start using them for other than extremely urgent and vital strikes, which is what’s happened since we started using them against low level targets, just because we can. It’s one thing to send a missile from a drone to kill the commander of a terrorist network. It’s quite another to use a drone to kill somebody who might or might not be a threat, but, well, the wing commander or mission operator is new and wants to “get some”. Or worse, using drones to do the bidding of foreign governments, killing a regime opponent who poses no threat to the US but does to the foreign elite. It’s especially bad if that elite is unsavory to begin with, and the guy we take out might actually epitomize some legitimate grievances. Sure, a realpolitik kind of person would say we need to keep the people in power on our side, even if they’re unsavory. But that is a pernicious, not to say short-sighted, analysis. If an elite is distrusted by their own people, and we do their bidding, what happens? We no longer seem to be the enemy, we just actually made ourselves the enemy. In reality. And not just for the crazies out there, but for sane, normal citizens who want a better life than what their rulers are giving them. The kind of people who would never strap on a suicide vest themselves, but might start giving money to whatever the local cause might be. Or who would provide a safe house, or distribute and forward propaganda. Without the support of those normal people, terrorist movements whither and die.
This is why morality matters. Our morality, matters.
This is also why it’s frustrating to discuss, because what the adherents of realpolitik don’t seem to realize is that being moral isn’t just a good in and of itself, it’s also smart. Not to say you don’t shoot a guy pointing a gun at you if you have the chance, but you don’t shoot someone because he may or may not have a gun that he may or may not point at you at some time in the future.
Drones are pernicious because they keep the wielder completely out of harm’s way, and thus provide no real disincentive (Unless you count internalized reasoning like that in the previous paragraph) to their use. It is the military version of financial moral hazard. If you’re playing with other people’s money and you’re rewarded only if you win but pay no penalty if you lose, why not bet the house? Fiduciary responsibility? What’s that? Which is one big reason why we keep having financial crises. While that is a topic for another post, the same psychology applies. If you can sit ten thousand miles away and have a target, and have every incentive to blow away that target, but no real incentive not to, what do you do? Especially if your rules of engagement and operations in general are protected, bizarrely, by more stringent secrecy laws than those that apply to manned combat missions. Why on Earth wouldn’t you blow away every single target every single chance you get? Again, this individual incentive to do something ignores the public cost in terms of our standing with rational, normal people everywhere.
Drones are in the final analysis merely another weapon of war. The debate, such as it is, has moved on, unfortunately I think, from when and how they should be used to how they might be made better, and whether humans should be in the loop at all. This is a red herring, because the question isn’t whether they can be made better (of course they can), but within what rules and tactics, and to serve what strategy. It is too late to try to turn back to only manned equipment, and in any case it would ignore the real benefits that drones provide not just as flying assassins but for surveillance and reconnaissance, including non-military, humanitarian, uses.
We should, as a nation, discuss not just the tool, in this case drones, but the ends. What do we try, or hope to, accomplish? A war on terrorism is unwinnable. There will always be cowards ready to use others to destroy the lives of innocents. How can you “win” at preventing murderous scumbags from having reprehensible thoughts and acting on them? But we should not stoop to that level, just for the sake of doing something. When we remove the disincentives to assassinate we lose a significant part of what we are and should be fighting for, and we lose our standing in the eyes of those who could either harm or help us. Instead of debating the technology, we should debate the programming. Autonomous military vehicles will be here soon. Technology can’t be stopped in this case because it provides no existential threat, unlike nuclear weapons in the past century or firearms in feudal Japan, so a future ban is extremely unlikely.
But an autonomous vehicle will only do what it’s programmed to do. Having a human in the loop will not change the decision-making process to any appreciable degree unless there is a strong disincentive to use force in the first place. As we’ve seen recently with the use of drone strikes against less and less important targets, we have instead incentivized killing as its own end.
Instead, concentrate of international standards of drone design which emphasize graduality of escalation, with lethal violence being disincentivized unless certain, truly threatening or vital, conditions are met. What are those conditions? How can they be incorporated in an autonomous system? What programming checks or protocols will ensure such rules are unhackable or otherwise remain uncorrupted? How can we verify that others follow those rules if we do? What are the enforcement mechanisms for not playing by those rules?
That’s the debate.
We’ve had success in reducing nuclear stockpiles. Many countries (Shamefully, not yet the US) have agreed to ban land mines. Cluster bombs are next, rightfully so, in the sights of those who think and care about these things. Drones are just another technology the military uses to achieve their ends. What are those ends, and how can we assure those aren’t subverted? It’s a questions for technologists and moralists both.