The First Undergraduate Research Conference for International Relations Georgetown University Washington, DC April 13, 2012 – April 15, 2012
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THE WALSH EXCHANGE PROCEEDINGS Recognizing the first annual Walsh Exchange Steering Committee: Jonathan Askonas, Founder and Co-Chair Colleen Wood, Co-Chair Elizabeth Saam, Academic Co-Coordinator Alexander Henderson, Academic Co-Coordinator Alison Vandenburgh, Communications Director Laurel Zigerelli, Logistics and Hospitality Director Dawn Chan, Long-Term Development Coordinator Yan Han Ong, Speaker Coordinator Sarah Pemberton, Treasurer
With special thanks to The Potomac Foundation and the following sponsors from Georgetown University for making this endeavor possible: The School of Foreign Service Dean’s Office BMW Center for German and European Studies African Studies Program Georgetown University Student Association The Provost's Office The Lecture Fund The Corp Center for Eurasian, Russian and East European Studies Center for New Designs in Learning and Scholarship The Division of Student Affairs Science, Technology & International Affairs Program
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CONTENTS When Soft Power is Too Soft: The Nebulous Role of Confucius Institutes in China’s Soft Power Initiative Marissa Benavides, Yale College
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The New Player: How China’s Growing Role in Africa is Affecting the World Bank’s Policies and Strategy for Reform Sondra Appelson, Georgetown University
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Why the Dragon Dons a Blue Beret: Do Commercial Interests Affect China’s Participation in United Nations Peacekeeping Missions? Rohan Patnaik, Georgetown University
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Missing the Boat: Patriotic Hackers in Historical Context Timothy Peacock, Brown University
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The Iran-Iraq War: Understanding the Psychological Implications, Narratives, and Legacy of the War on Iran’s Identity and Policies Behnan Taleblu, The George Washington University
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China’s Short Range Missile Force and the Challenge of Negotiated Constraint Lawson Ferguson and Jacob Schindler, Georgetown University
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What Has Changed? The Outcome of Another Israeli-Lebanon War Cody Zoschak, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Spread the Word: Changing Social Attitudes Toward Sexual Violence in Truth and Reconciliation Amanda Lo, Georgetown University A New Euro-Norm: Socialization and LGB in the EU Christian Lambert, Georgetown University
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Courts, Saints, and Clans: The Role of Grassroots, Indigenous Religious Institutions in Facilitating Order in Failed States
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Mark Hay, Columbia University The Politics of Implementing European Court of Human Rights Judgments Sharanbir Grewal, Georgetown University Beneath the Grand Bargain: What Drives States’ Attitudes Towards the NPT? Anton Strezhnev, Georgetown University An Examination of the Imperative Principle of Action Linnea Turco, The George Washington University
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Reaching and Breaching Peace: The Failings of the Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreements, 1995-2000 Eitan Paul, Georgetown University
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Appendix I – V
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When Soft Power is Too Soft: The Nebulous Role of Confucius Institutes in China’s Soft Power Initiative Marissa Benavides, Yale College Henry Kissinger once told me that he believed that ancient Chinese thought was more likely than any foreign ideology to become the dominant intellectual force behind Chinese foreign policy. - Yan Xuetong1 On October 18th, 2011, the seventeenth Central Committee of the People’s Republic of China emerged from their week-long plenary session to announce the political, social and economic priorities that policymakers deemed most important in determining the direction of China’s development.2 From these priorities emerged an initiative that garnered major headlines in both the country’s main Chinese and English newspapers.3 It had nothing to do with the country’s growing inequality gap, environmental degradation, unsteady real estate market, or a host of other societal ills expected to be addressed at the session. Instead, the Committee’s top initiative was a resolution to develop and promote “China’s cultural system” both at home and abroad. An editorial run in the party mouthpiece, the People’s Daily, explained the initiative in terms of national interest, stating, “Now the status and influence of culture in national power competition is more prominent, thus making it a mission more arduous and critical to guard national cultural security and to boost national soft power and Chinese culture’s international influence.”45 In setting cultural promotion as the country’s method of increasing its soft power, the question must be asked, which culture? Given the violent history that exists between the Chinese Communist Party and Confucianism – an oft-used representative of traditional Chinese culture6 – it would seem unlikely that the promotion of “traditional” culture is what the CCP had in mind. However, their actions have implied otherwise. While official press releases have made no mention of Confucius in relation to the recently announced initiative, the announcement itself comes after a succession of moves by the CCP to reintegrate Confucius into mainstream conversation at home and abroad. Just two weeks prior to this session, the Shandong provincial government began airing a thirty-second video in Times Square, New York, introducing Confucius and the many attractions of his home province.7 In November of 2011 the second Confucius Peace Prize was awarded to Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin.8 Confucius Peace Prize, an award created by a private institution, was denounced last year by official government representatives. However, the institution was able to distribute the award again this year with no interference from the government; in a state that acts decisively when displeased, this lack of interference can almost be viewed as tacit approval. However the government’s most overt endorsement of the ancient sage comes out of the Chinese Ministry of Education. Since 2004, this branch of the government has been funding the establishment of Confucius Institutes around the world. These institutes, while downplayed by administrators as channels of cultural exchange, have been touted by government officials as -5-
channels of cultural influence that will contribute to the increase of China’s soft power.910 When combined with the two previous examples, this collection of Confucian branding strongly corroborates the idea that Confucius is cementing his place as the official representative of Chinese culture, and perhaps the official vehicle of China’s international soft power campaign. Since the opening of the first Confucius Institutes in 2004, China’s Confucius Institute initiative has taken off faster than even the Chinese government was expecting.11 China’s evergrowing prominence on the international stage has spurred students and institutions alike to seek out opportunities to become a part of the phenomenon, whether by studying Mandarin Chinese or establishing partnerships with similar institutions in the PRC. This fever has contributed to the unimpeded growth of so-called Confucius Institutes when the institutes have nothing to do with Confucius. This strange and unprecedented move by the People’s Republic of China should be analyzed with caution. The motivation seems fairly clear, especially in the light of recent Party announcements: China wants to increase its international soft power. But are the methods effective? After careful examination, I believe we will find that the Confucius Institutes are effective at expanding China’s network of relationships, but in terms of cultivating soft power through cultural attraction, the Confucius Institutes have yet to offer a clear, official picture of the culture their parent institution is hoping to promote. The only picture in the frame, by virtue of the Institutes’ title, is that of Confucius, and even he is capable of sending diverse and even contradictory messages on Chinese culture. If China hopes to foster mutual understanding, the “Confucian” framing of the Institute needs to be supported by a clear presentation of China’s Confucian values to the rest of the world. The problem is that no such clarity exists even within the People’s Republic of China, which means that before the Chinese government can push a cultural agenda abroad, they need to define and then confirm it at home first. While the path to such an outcome would likely lead to another traditionally opaque planning session by the Central Committee, an initial lead can be taken from several small, independent schools, known as Confucius Academies, that are striving quietly to revitalize the Confucian culture that was so destroyed during the tumult of the twentieth century. Their efforts, while far from perfect, serve as early templates for the ideological power of a full Confucian education. In order to gain a basic understanding of the questions I have raised, we will first put modern usage of the name Confucius in context by detailing the twentieth century political and cultural developments tied to his name. Then we will take a look at Confucius Institutes in general before examining my case study of one Confucius Institute in Lincoln, Nebraska. After the case study we will determine the effects of conducting cultural activities without a clear cultural message, and what can be done to provide Confucius Institutes with such a message. As a potential solution, I will offer a description of the smaller, lesser-known Confucius Academies, followed by a detailed account of my experience teaching at one of China’s largest Confucius Academies this summer. We will then take a step back from the cases offered and discuss the relevance and eventual impact my suggestions could make on China’s quest for increased soft power. With that said, we should begin our examination of the issue with two basic questions: what does the CCP mean when it says “soft power,” and why use Confucius to spread it?
Key Terms Soft power as defined by the man who coined the phrase, Joseph Nye, is, “the ability to get what you want through attraction rather than coercion or payment.”12 While Nye argues for its many manifestations, including diplomatic, economic and cultural soft power, it is the latter that the Chinese government has advocated in October of 2011, and has quietly supported for several years. Chinese leaders are of the opinion that soft power wins the long-term struggle for international -6-
dominance.13 In a previously quoted article released by the official party newspaper, the government is now placing a premium on exporting China’s cultural brand to the world in the hopes that the greater number people fluent in Chinese, the greater number of connections that can be establish with China and its citizens. If the government can attract foreigners to Chinese culture it will have a more direct influence internationally. Attraction is a crucial component of soft power, and it is the key element, either missing or present, to the following case studies. But before we begin, we should consider the Chinese national government’s motivation in sanctioning the name of Confucius for use as the chief national representative of China in communities around the world. The simplest reason for Confucius’ cultural dominance is also the most powerful: Confucius carries the highest currency in Chinese name recognition around the world. In the East Asian theater, the character name for Confucius is widely recognized, as is the Romanized version in the West. Confucius “is the figure nearest to a global brand from traditional Chinese history.”14 Moreover, the use of Confucius as a frame for Chinese culture has a long history that demonstrates his versatility as an ideological representative. Whatever course Party policymakers decide to take in the future, they can easily find ways in which to utilize Confucian teachings, such as a strongly advocated respect for authority figures and emphasis on harmony among people, to their advantage.15 At the very least, they can appropriate his words and use them as a legitimizing force behind various initiatives and efforts to control the people, such as Jiang Zemin’s inaccurate use of “moderately well-off society” as a state to be worked towards instead of away from, and Hu Jintao’s use of “harmonious society” to justify actions taken by the government to enforce harmony instead of foster it. Confucius is simply an empty frame; people of all motivations can use this frame to structure their interpretations of the world through him and his works. In recent years, the Chinese government has elected to use Confucius to “charm” outsiders by invoking him as China’s most well known figure. The fact that Westerners are less likely to associate a “Confucius” Institute with a government initiative, particularly an authoritarian government initiative, is an added bonus.16 The sage that was once regarded as the foundation of Chinese societal structure is being cast once again as a China’s chief cultural representative, a role he has not been authorized to play since the days before the May Fourth Movement of 1919.
Confucius in Modern China Before the May Fourth Movement and the broader New Culture Movement swept people up in its revolutionary rhetoric, Confucianism was the principle vehicle of political, social and cultural expression. While particular interpretations of Confucius would go in and out of fashion, basic tenets such as his Five Constant Regulations17 remained a vital part of China’s cultural core. Confucius, or at least the ideology that sprung from his works, also provided a framework under which the Chinese defined their relationships. In the home, it stressed the importance of filial piety; in the public realm, it stressed the importance of a proper gentlemanly education. In the throne room, the emperor felt the weight of Confucius’s “Mandate of Heaven,” in which he was continually made to prove his virtue and legitimacy by looking after the needs of the people.18 On the eve of May 3rd, 1919, however, that framework was about to be torn asunder. Students of Peking and Tsinghua Universities, hotbeds of modern Chinese intellectual ferment, were growing increasingly frustrated over the failures of the new Chinese Republic and the apparent inferiority of China in relation to the powerful West. Their solution was to embrace Western traditions and implement them in China from the ground up. To do so, they would need to expunge all traces of the philosophy that had allowed them to fall so far behind the West. Young intellectuals began to portray Confucianism as feudal and autocratic; famed writer Lu Xun went so far as to call -7-
Chinese culture, of which Confucianism was a great part, a form of cannibalism that had been devouring itself for four thousand years.19 By the time the People’s Republic of China was established in 1949, Confucius had been consigned to the traditions of old China. There was no room for him in new China. However, it should be noted that Chairman Mao Zedong’s rejection of Confucian ideals did not stem from a desire to pursue Western-style science and democracy, but rather from his comprehensive repudiation of all elements of traditional China. This period of social and political revolution, stretching forward in time from the eve of the May Fourth Movement, witnessed the slow death of Confucius in the hearts and minds of the people. After 1957, the study of Confucius disappeared from the formal curriculum. Then in an ironic turn of events, the Communist party made him central to one of their ideological campaigns. It was one of the last leadership struggles of the Cultural Revolution, following directly behind Lin Biao’s failed assassination attempt. The “Anti-Lin Biao, Anti-Confucius” campaign, as it was known,20 was an attempted power play by the Gang of Four to discredit simultaneously the contemporary and historical figures most threatening to their own credibility. However, a compelling case has been made by Kam Louie that the effect of this last, desperate attempt to maintain power in the face of Mao Zedong’s demise was opposite what the Gang of Four had intended; instead of beating Confucius down, the campaign “flogged him back to life.”21 Teachers began reintroducing classical texts in the classroom, ostensibly to enable students to criticize Confucius in full; however, the actual result was a revived interest in classical texts. For over a decade this renewed interest among students remained under a politically correct surface on the Mainland, but in the mid-1980s, disparate forces converged in a way that set up the absorption and reappropriation of Confucianism into the Communist ideology of the Chinese state. By necessity, much of traditional Chinese – and by extension, Confucian – culture had survived Mao’s crusade against traditional China by being exported and then carefully nurtured by those who escaped the Mao regime and set up peripheral communities in their host countries, most notably Taiwan, South Korea, Hong Kong and Singapore.22 In the 1980s these states became part of the economic miracle known as the Four Mini-Dragons, in which their economies underwent tremendous booms, while China’s recently reformed economy was barely taking off. The success of these four dragons, with traditional East Asian values still intact, caused intellectuals to take note: modernization and traditional East Asian culture did not have to be diametrically opposed.23 States were not required to follow Western political frameworks to be successful. At the same time, the study of the Confucian tradition was appearing in the international intellectual discourse, as evidenced by the rigorous study and celebration of Confucianism conducted by such noted scholars as Princeton’s Yü Ying-shih and Harvard’s Tu Weiming.24 However, these scholars were not simply corroborating the relevance of a socio-political trend; they were also reacting directly to the words of Confucianism’s most unlikely supporter: the Chinese Communist Party. In the late 1980s Chinese Communist Party rhetoric, which had for decades centered on ideas of revolution and state production, began to shift towards a new ideal that would eventually become known as a harmonious society, with moderate prosperity for everyone. Phrases that backed the new ideal, such as “harmony” and “moderate prosperity,” could be traced back to Confucian canonical texts, the same texts that were decried as tools of the feudal oppressors of old. While their usage may not have remained true to the original spirit of the writings, it was the acknowledgement of these words themselves that carried the most significance. On Confucius’s birthday in 1989, Jiang Zemin made what was called an “unprecedented personal appearance” at the event and shared his own recollections of growing up in a Confucian household. He even gave his blessing to a speech by his subordinate, Gu Mu, in which the importance of harmony was first established, thereby making harmony a de facto, if not a de jure, part of Party policy.25 The CCP, in a complete paradigmatic shift, was using Confucius’ “autocratic” language to describe its official stance in moving China’s socialist -8-
system forward. While the phrase “harmonious society” has now become a running joke among the Chinese populous, in 1989 the simple endorsement of the word “harmony” was a powerful indicator of how much Deng Xiaoping’s Chinese Communist Party was altering policy away from the pursuit of a “new China,” in favor of a more stable China.26 Jiang Zemin’s advocacy for a “moderately welloff society,” had a similar distancing effect from the Maoisms of the past.27 After a decades-long hiatus, Confucius’ teachings had finally found their way back into politics. This phenomenon can be observed through a casual investigation of the Party’s official paper, the People’s Daily, and the number of articles that were allowed to be published with the word “Confucius” as part of its content.
We see that, apart from a dramatic spike marking the “Anti-Lin Biao, Anti-Confucius” campaign, it was not until the 1980s that the number of articles mentioning Confucius differed significantly from the previous trend. After decades of vilifying Confucius and the philosophy he spawned, the CCP had the unenviable task of explaining how he could have risen up to become the spokesperson for the socialist agenda. Here we find the crux of utilizing the Confucius brand: he can be used to represent anything, and as such is incapable of strongly representing any one thing. This is a problem for the CCP because it implies a future inability to control the use of the Confucius brand for soft power purposes. Leaving this issue aside for now, let us examine the information on the chart from 2004 onwards. In 2004, there is a distinct spike in the number of articles mentioning Confucius; from that point, the data increases at a dramatic rate. As 2004 marked the opening of the first Confucius Institute in Seoul, South Korea, it seems safe to surmise that the dramatic rise in articles post-2004 relates directly to the continued opening of new Confucius Institutes over time.
The Confucius Institutes What, exactly, is a Confucius Institute (CI)? According to the official website of the Institutes’ parent organization, the Hanban, Confucius Institutes are “non-profit public institutions which aim to promote Chinese language and culture… in foreign primary schools, secondary schools, communities and enterprises.”28 They are run under the auspices of the Hanban, itself an organization under the Chinese Ministry of Education. To date, the Hanban has opened over three -9-
hundred CIs around the world,29 with plans to open more. These CIs typically partner with universities or other educational institutions through which they can offer language teaching services, sometimes specializing in the language needed to function in a particular industry. For example, the Confucius Institute at the London School of Economics focuses almost exclusively on business Chinese.30 Institutes also have a special relationship with one or more universities in China from which they will recruit their Chinese teachers. In terms of funding, CIs are separated into three categories: those that are funded exclusively by Beijing headquarters, those that are funded jointly by Beijing and the host institution, and those that are funded exclusively through the host institution, but licensed by Beijing to operate under the name of Kongzi Xueyuan, or Confucius Institute.31 These institutes hope to foster more cultural understanding between China and their host countries, which is why many CIs are located in areas where the presence of Chinese culture has traditionally been weak, such as Lincoln, Nebraska. Lincoln, Nebraska, with a population just over 250,000 according to the 2010 US Census, is a small city surrounded by much smaller towns. Ethnic diversity at the time of the census was reported at 86% Caucasian, 6.8% Hispanic, 3.8% each for African-American and Asian-American, and less than one percent in all other ethnic categories. Lincoln makes for a clear example of the kind of situation in which one Confucius Institute can have a tremendous impact on Chinese cultural awareness in a given community, and as such has become the prime candidate for an indepth case study. After expounding on the situation of this particular Confucius Institute, we will look at the challenges it faces in pursuing its mission, then expand our analysis to the Confucius Institution wave in general, before finally determining the viability of Confucius Institutes as agents of Chinese soft power. The Confucius Institute at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (UNL) was established in 2007 as the twentieth such institute in the United States. It was provided $100,000 in start-up funds from the Hanban in its initial year of operation, but since then has applied for and received an increase of funds to over $270,000 annually, with plans to apply for a contract renewal at the end of the 2011-2012 academic year.3233 It adheres not only to the common mission laid out by the Hanban, but also a region-specific mission to promote both Chinese language classes and Chinese cultural awareness in Lincoln and the greater Nebraska area, according to Executive Assistant Director Dr. Rachel Zeng. To that end, the Institute offers non-credit language courses not only to UNL students, but also to the communities of Lincoln, Omaha, Scottsbluff, North Platte and Norfolk. Since the dedication in 2007, the CI staff at UNL has grown from a core of four full-time staffers to a team of over 15 staff and teachers servicing over five thousand people across the state of Nebraska. As of November 18th, 2011, the CI had a total of thirty-two class offerings in Lincoln alone, with class subjects – broken down into children and adult categories – ranging from language to calligraphy to folk songs. An upper tier class for children titled, “Chinese Poems and Composition I for Children,” suggests at the close relationship between language and culture nurtured at the Confucius Institute. Like most CIs, the Confucius Institute at UNL works closely with a Chinese partner university, Xi’an Jiaotong University, to bring qualified Chinese language teachers to the United States. These teachers have been instrumental, according to Dr. Zeng, in initiating cultural activities to increase awareness of China around the community and facilitate the growth of grassroots cultural networks such as Lincoln Chinese Cultural Association and the Omaha Chinese Cultural Association.34 Events such as a Chinese Speech competition, Ping Pong competition and Fall Moon Festival all seem to have helped foster the growth of a Chinese presence in the public sphere.
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The Problem The strength and variety of CI initiatives in Lincoln suggest that China’s efforts at expanding soft power have met with success. However, there still exist criticisms that are levied at the Confucius Institute initiative as a whole, the most prominent of which is an accusation that China is pushing a political agenda. In response to those allegations, UNL Confucius Institute director David Lou told USA Today in an interview that the Hanban has played no role in creating CI programs, and that it has never made an attempt to direct the CI in how to carry out its mission.35 A secondary concern is that of funding. The Confucius Institute program is only sponsored by the Chinese government for a contracted period of time, usually only up to five years. After that, the Institute must prove it is worthy of continued funding in order to renew its contract; otherwise it must find a way to be financially self-sustainable to remain open.36 However that issue is more one of logistics than ideology. The third and most troublesome issue stems from the implications of the first two: the potential threat to the Confucius Institute’s identity. Confucius Institutes were established with the understanding that individual CI administrators would have full control over the actual implementation of their stated purpose, with no interference from government backers. While the Central Committee has been clear in its agenda to promote Chinese soft power around the world, the Hanban has been careful not to portray the mission of the CIs in those terms. Instead, it claims a desire only for the rest of the world to understand China, and it wants to make CIs the platforms on which that happens.37 While the Hanban may have had an initial template for the manner in which CIs would teach language and culture clashes, partner schools apparently “pushed back” against these restrictions to the point that there is now “a lot of flexibility” coming from the Hanban in determining the direction of CIs.38 However, with a lack of rigidity also comes a lack of security. There is no uniform, agreed-upon version of what Chinese culture is supposed to be. For example, a speech by the Chinese ambassador to the United Kingdom upon the unveiling of the Confucius Institute at the University of Southampton tied Chinese culture directly to Confucian philosophy, yet the Hanban has very explicitly and purposefully stated its avoidance of Confucianism, while not offered anything else to fill the cultural frame surrounding the CIs. Even after the sixth party plenum concluded in October of 2011, the mandate to increase cultural security came with no directive as to how. With no direction, and soon to be no money, CI administrators will have to find ways to remain solvent by offering classes that appeal to the greatest number of people, even if those classes are not direct reflections of real traditional Chinese culture. With little or no direction in how to conduct the spread of Chinese culture, or even how to define Chinese culture, combined with upcoming pressure to keep their coffers filled, institutes are at risk of becoming subject to the interests of their host communities in “teaching” culture, or more simply teaching to the audience. This identity crisis is not only problematic for CIs on an individual level; it also signals an upcoming tension throughout the entire CI network when discussing the advancement of Chinese soft power. As stated previously by Joseph Nye, the exclusive goal of soft power is attraction. A culture, a country, must be attractive to outsiders in order for soft power to be exercised. The Confucius Institutes, while offering Chinese language and fine arts classes, have yet to offer anything of cultural substance beyond that. They do not know if Chinese culture is attractive to the average foreigner because they have yet to offer it. This lack of a cultural message allows foreigners to fill in the Confucian frame with their own image of China, gleaned from independent, uncontrollable sources. It could be the case that students of the Confucius Institutes will continue to view China through the lens of its autocratic political system, a system that is inherently unappealing to democracies. James Paradise suggests this possibility as a cause of China’s relatively weak soft power today, -11-
claiming, “China lacks some of the crucial elements of soft power, such as the attractiveness of its political values.”39 Without a message, without a set of values, the Confucius Institutes are left with a cultural currency whose highest value extends to writing characters and singing children’s songs.
The Solution, and Another Problem What should the Confucius Institutes do, then, to achieve their unstated, yet governmentstated goal of increased soft power in the world?40 Simply put, they decide how they plan to fill the Confucian frame. Spreading soft power requires offering ideas and ideals to which people can subscribe and support, so the CIs need to determine how exactly they should be packaging Confucius for foreign consumption. Unfortunately, they might have to wait for the problem to be figured out on the domestic front first. Confucianism’s return to mainstream culture is still relatively recent, and adds a complicated dimension to an already complicated society undergoing massive social and economic change. These changes have left Chinese society with a perceived moral vacuum in the present day,41 one that some argue should be filled with a full return to Confucian values.42 Xiao Gongqin, a foremost leader of the Confucian neoconservative movement of the 1990s, explained the importance of such an effort as follows: Confucianism is the mainstream cultural form in traditional China… Because mainstream culture is the basis of identity for a country’s political and intellectual elites and general public, it would be significant for the national coherence and the formation of a national consciousness… With the insertion of the traditional mainstream culture, the Chinese ‘mental world’ would be further enriched and full of warm passion.”43 For Xiao, the key to becoming a more secure China is becoming a more Confucian China. However his words, by virtue of what they do not cover, speak volumes to the problems facing such an agenda. Even while offering Confucianism as a mainstream ideology, Xiao Gongqin did not address what the word “Confucianism” really meant. This ambiguity among New Confucians has evolved once again into a turf war in which scholars each clamor for their own interpretation of Confucian teachings. The most notable of these scholars, at least by popular standard, is a Yu Dan, a trendy Confucian professor at Beijing Normal University whose televised talks on her interpretation of Confucius’ Analects became a national phenomenon. Her informal, highly anecdotal take on the Analects as a guide to living a happy life has garnered her a burgeoning fan base in China,44 while earning her an entire appendix of scathing comments in Daniel Bell’s 2008 book China’s New Confucianism: Politics and Everyday Life in a Changing Society.45 These academic battles over Confucianism are part of a larger effort to redefine China’s moral center in a time where Confucius is receiving significant academic attention for his claim that morality is the most powerful, most lasting force in questions of governance.46 If the Chinese people were able to reach a very general agreement on the moral codes dictated by their culture, by Confucian culture, they would be one step closer to defining the foundations of a shared national culture and exporting that foundation to the rest of the world. To achieve that goal, I examine the efforts of several individuals who have dedicated themselves to educate the next generation in the ways of traditional Confucianism.
The Confucius Academies
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Given the Confucius Institutes’ primary purpose is teaching Chinese, their locations are, of course, exclusively in foreign locales. Within China, however, the revived interest in the Confucian tradition has led some cultural entrepreneurs to create a new market: Confucius Academies. Confucius Academies, like the Confucius Institutes, have only become a presence in the past ten years.47 In fact, while their existence is often mentioned in literature on the Confucius Institutes, these smaller, independent academies have yet to be given the same rigorous academic treatment as given the CIs. Each academy is a stand-alone operation run by an independent agent, and while different agencies will collaborate with each other on addressing general issues, there is no collective governing body. However, the vast majority of these institutions promote a similar mission: revitalize traditional Confucian culture through educating China’s current young generation in the teachings and practices of Confucius and his followers. These academies typically employ memorization of Confucius’ texts, in the spirit of gentlemanly scholarship, as their primary method of traditional education. While children may not understand the words they recite at the time, academy administrators hope that they will recall Confucius’ writings as they grow older and realize his relevance to modern life.48 However these academies do not stop at teaching texts alone. In their quest to make Confucius relevant once again, they also educate the children on how to live a proper Confucian life, and encourage the children to live out the embodiment of Confucian ideals. Lessons in deportment are common, propriety is heavily emphasized, and traditional subjects such as calligraphy, Chinese medicine and instrumentation are all given significant attention.49 These academies have become laboratories of traditionalism in which private administrations can experiment in their teachings in their efforts to find the most effective way to revive the cultural heritage many believe was lost in the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. In order to gain a deeper understanding of the functionality of these Confucius Academies, and to see if they offer a potential solution to China’s potential identity crisis, I focus on one of the largest academies to date, the Four Seas Confucius Academy (Sihai Kongzi Shuyuan) in Beijing, China, both because of my time spent there and the impact it has made in the traditional culture industry. After a brief explanation of their operations in specific, we will examine how each institution goes about its purpose of increased cultural awareness, and to what end. The Sihai Confucius Academy is one of the most well-recognized and well-respected institutions of its type within the People’s Republic of China, with the support of both contemporary Confucianism advocates and high-ranking government officials. Opened in 2006, it was what one Academy administrator called the “natural next step” in the development of a line of Confucian textbooks aimed at teaching children how to read Confucius’ canonical texts.50 The line, known as Ertong,51 was founded by a man named Feng Zhe to make Confucian texts accessible and, more importantly, teachable. While the Ertong line has been in production for over a decade, it was only in 2006 that Mr. Feng was able to rent a compound in northern Beijing to open a traditional academy where he could put his ideas into practice. In the past five years Mr. Feng, now the director of the Sihai Confucius Academy, has overseen the growth of his project to include a cluster of six compounds and a total enrollment of over 150 students, making his academy one of the largest of its kind.52 Students enter the Academy at age three and remain until age fourteen, leaving the compound only on weekends and holiday breaks. They are in the classroom from seven o’clock in the morning to eight o’clock in the evening every weekday, during which they memorize the main Confucian texts. By the time students graduate the Academy, they will have memorized the Four Books (si shu), Yellow Emperor’s Medical Canon (huangdi nei jing), Classic of Rites (liji), Three Character Classics (san zi jing), and many more small works deemed relevant, such as the Book of Family Names (bai jia xing). Children will also have become proficient in calligraphy, Tai Chi, and playing the guqin.53 -13-
There are two tracks for children entering the Sihai Confucius Academy: the Chinese university track and the foreign university track. The first track simply dictates that children will enter the Academy when they reach the age of three, and will exit the academy around age eight to begin attending official Chinese school. They will then have the opportunity to resume their studies later in life after going through the normal Chinese education system. The second track is for those students who stay at the Academy until completion. Because the Academy does not offer classes in core subjects such as math, social studies and science, there is no way for children to maintain the same level of academic advancement as their peers in the mainstream education system. As a result, children who stay beyond the age of eight understand that their only option for higher education is to go abroad. In recognition of this problem, Academy administrators have entered into talks with the Chinese University in Hong Kong and the University of Minnesota to set up a partnership in which children would eventually earn their degrees at the aforementioned universities.54 The Sihai Confucius Academy has achieved a relatively high level of recognition among party elites and intellectuals alike. Students are often asked to attend Party events and recite passages from the Four Books or other equally well-known works. Leaders in the fields of Confucianism and traditional China often accept invitations to the Academy to lecture on topics such as Chinese traditional medicine, the religious significance of Confucianism, its relevance to the modern world, and challenges of translating and teaching Confucianism to foreign audiences. In terms of other outside participation, the Academy often holds weeklong camps during holidays for children and college students alike. The camps offer students a structured space in which students may pursue their interest in traditional Confucian culture. And perhaps most important to soft power concerns, the Academy has achieved international presence through the promotion of the English translations of their textbooks, as well as their expanded line of translated traditional Chinese texts, including Dream of the Red Chamber and Journey to the West.55 Combined with its plan to send their graduates out into the world to advocate for Confucius, the Sihai Confucius Academy seems well equipped to raise awareness of Chinese culture abroad, without the complications of being tied to the Chinese Communist Party.
The Future Potential for Soft Power After examining the current situations of both the Confucius Institutes and Confucius Academies, it would seem that the CIs are limited in their efforts and their abilities to achieve an increase of soft power through cultural attraction. While the CI at the University of NebraskaLincoln seemed a successful case of spreading influence, an interview with the president of the Lincoln Chinese Cultural Association (LCCA), Jue Yezi, cast doubt on such an interpretation. As president of the LCCA, Mrs. Reinhardt, as she prefers to be known, has been responsible for promoting cultural events around the Lincoln community, and has partnered with the CI many times over the past four years. She admitted that after four years of operating in Lincoln, the CI hadn’t made the impact she thought it would on the city. Over half the city, she claimed, had not even heard of a Confucius Institute, and if they had heard of it, the cause was likely the presence of Chinese teachers in the city’s public schools. The primary purpose of the CI, in her eyes, was not to promote Chinese culture itself, but to provide funding for others to promote Chinese culture instead.56 This situation is suggestive of the slightly removed nature of Confucius Institutes from full cultural promotion, leaving behind that somewhat empty cultural frame. In reflecting on her personal opinion of the CI, Mrs. Reinhardt concurred, saying, “They have a lot more space that they could cover in terms of Chinese cultural promotion.”57 This is the space left open in the picture of Chinese culture that CIs are trying to present. If the CIs become a conspicuous part of the new -14-
cultural soft power policy announced by the CCP in October of 2011, they will be in need of cultural representation beyond the image of a philosopher whose teachings are unfamiliar to significant portions of the world population. This dilemma would necessitate the establishment of an official party stance on what the CIs should be teaching as Chinese culture. However, such a move may encounter unforeseen opposition rising against the Confucius Institutes, and not from any international body. In the final minutes of the interview, Mrs. Reinhardt broke off from the topic at hand to ask me, “Can I tell you how people back in China really feel about these Confucius Institutes? They think the government is wasting a lot of money, wasting money sending the teachers here, wasting money paying their rent and their paychecks, but all that spending is not equal to the effect the teachers have on the community. It’s useless spending.” If the CCP were to officialize Chinese culture in any extended capacity, beyond the few words they have already appropriated from Confucianism, it might face open displays of discontent back home. While such a possibility has not deterred the CCP in the past, it may give party members pause. Confucius Academies, on the other hand, have enjoyed increasing popularity in China. Their conservative interpretation of Confucian texts – for example, they are vegetarian as a result of Confucius’ professed respect for animals – has steadily gained admiration, support and imitation throughout the People’s Republic of China and the Republic of China.58 As they operate outside the auspices of the national government, these academies are also able to create and defend their own priorities in teaching Chinese culture, a luxury not afforded the Confucius Institutes. Thus, the Confucius Academies, particularly well-established academies such as the Sihai Confucius Academy, can serve as laboratories of Chinese cultural development from which the CCP may be able to glean some intelligence on how to approach the packaging and export of over a millennium of culture to the rest of the world. The Chinese Communist Party is faced with a dilemma: either pursue the advancement of Chinese soft power to the utmost degree, exporting an attractive version of Chinese culture to foster international favor at the grassroots level, or maintain the non-political status quo and count on students of the CIs to be exposed to the more intangible aspects of Chinese culture through their language learning. One choice carries greater risk, but greater reward in terms of the potential for international favor; the other is, of course, less risky and less rewarding. One will couch the message that Confucius represents in less uncertain terms, and fill out a frame that has been relatively empty of meaning since the establishment of the Confucius Institutes in 2004. The other choice will leave Confucius as he is, a superficial representation of a complex culture, poised in an empty frame waiting to be filled with the riches of Chinese cultural history. However, regardless of the choice the CCP makes, the domestic Confucius Academies will continue to develop their interpretation of Confucianism and traditional Chinese culture. In the future, the graduates of these academies, unconstrained by formal ties to the government, will have the background and ability to move freely about the world and promote knowledge of Confucianism and traditional Chinese culture. Perhaps they, more than the Confucius Institutes, will be responsible for the most significant rise in China’s soft power around the world. Fundamentally, the Confucius Institutes are part of an initiative borne out of the Chinese national government. They are manifestations of the Chinese Communist Party’s desire to increase its soft power abroad, a desire that was officially made into party policy in October of 2011. Now, the abilities of these Confucius Institutes to fulfill the mission for which they were created are dependent entirely on their creator.
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Yan, Xuetong. "How China Can Defeat America." The New York Times 21 Nov. 2011, New York ed., sec. A: 29. Yan Xuetong is currently serving as the dean of the Institute of Modern International Relations at Tsinghua University. 2 At this point I would like to express my gratitude to the Tristan Perlroth Summer Travel Award Committee for the generous funding they provided to support my research. Their support was critical in the formation and development of this paper. I would also like to thank Professor Deborah Davis of Yale University for her guidance throughout the development on this paper, including corrections to an earlier draft. 3 See Wang, Guanqun, ed. "Cultural Development Concerns Realization of China's Modernization, Rejuvenation of Chinese Nation: People's Daily." Xinhua Wang. Xinhua News Agency, 18 Oct. 2011. and Zhang, Weiran, and Zhaojun Zhou. "Zhuanjia Jiedu Liu Zhong Quanhui Gongbao Guanjianci Zhongshi Wenhua Chuangxin Chuangzao." Renmin Ribao (People's Daily). Renmin Ribao (People's Daily), 18 Oct. 2011. 4 Ibid. 5 Wang, Guanqun, ed. "Cultural Development Concerns Realization of China's Modernization, Rejuvenation of Chinese Nation: People's Daily." Xinhua Wang. Xinhua News Agency, 18 Oct. 2011. English translation. 6 “Traditional Chinese culture” is often used interchangeably with “Confucianism.” See Zhang, Tiejun. "SelfIdentity Construction of the Present China." Comparative Strategy 23.3 (2004): 290. 7 Wang, Yamei, ed. "China Runs Confucius Video in New York's Times Square." Xinhua Wang. Xinhua News Agency, 1 Oct. 2011. 8 Wong, Edward. "For Putin, a Peace Prize for a Decision to Go to War." The New York Times 16 Nov. 2011, New York ed., sec. A: 10. 9 See Yang, Rui. "Soft Power and Higher Education: an Examination of China's Confucius Institutes." Globalisation, Societies and Education 8.2 (2010): 238. “The Hanban officially denies its intention of soft power projection. Its director Xu Lin (2008), emphasizes that CIs are not projecting soft power, nor aim to impose Chinese values or Chinese culture on other countries…In contrast, the soft power concept has been enthusiastically taken up by the Chinese government (Starr 2009).” 10 Starr, Don. "Chinese Language Education in Europe: the Confucius Institutes." European Journal of Education 44.1 (2009): 65-82. 11 See Yang, Rui. "Soft Power and Higher Education: an Examination of China's Confucius Institutes." Globalisation, Societies and Education 8.2 (2010): 239. 12 Nye, Joseph S. Soft Power: the Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public Affairs, 2004. 13 Goldstein, Avery. Rising to the Challenge: China's Grand Strategy and International Security. Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 2005. 174. 14 Starr, Don. "Chinese Language Education in Europe: the Confucius Institutes." European Journal of Education 44.1 (2009): 69. 15 "Confucius Makes a Comeback." The Economist (US) 19 May 2007: 48. 16 Kurlantzick, Joshua. Charm Offensive: How China's Soft Power Is Transforming the World. New Haven: Yale UP, 2007. 68. 17 Yao Xinzhong translates the Five Constant Regulations (ren, yi, li, zhi, xin) as humaneness, righteousness, ritual/propriety, wisdom and faithfulness, respectively. See Yao, Xinzhong. An Introduction to Confucianism. New York: Cambridge UP, 2000. 34. 18 Ferguson, Yale H., and Richard W. Mansbach. Polities: Authority, Identities, and Change. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina, 1996. 206. 19 Lee, Leo Ou-fan. Voices from the Iron House: a Study of Lu Xun. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1987. 66. 20 Translation by Jonathan Spence. See Spence, Jonathan D. The Search for Modern China. New York: W.W. Norton, 1999. 203. 21 Louie, K. "Confucius the Chameleon: Dubious Envoy for "Brand China"" Boundary 2 38.1 (2011): 80. 22 Tu, Weiming. "Cultural China: the Periphery as the Center." Daedalus 134.4 (2005): 156. 23 Louie, K. "Confucius the Chameleon: Dubious Envoy for "Brand China"" Boundary 2 38.1 (2011): 86. 24 Delury, John. ""Harmonious" In China." Policy Review 148 (2008): 37. 25 De Bary, William Theodore. The Trouble with Confucianism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1991. 107. 1
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See Delury, John. ""Harmonious" In China." Policy Review 148 (2008): 38. “Beginning in the late 1980s, the concept of a ‘harmonious society’ rose steadily from keyword to buzzword to paradigm.” 27 "Confucius and the Party Line." The Economist (US) 24 May 2003: 38. 28 For more information, see <http://english.hanban.org/node_10971.htm> 29 Yan, ed. “Confucius Institute Opens in Azerbaijan.” Xinhua Wang. Xinhua News Agency, 23 April 2011. 30 Paradise, James F. "China and International Harmony: The Role of Confucius Institutes in Bolstering Beijing's Soft Power." Asian Survey 49.4 (2009): 652. 31 Yang, Rui. "Soft Power and Higher Education: an Examination of China's Confucius Institutes." Globalisation, Societies and Education 8.2 (2010): 241. 32 Marklein, Mary Beth. "A Clash over Confucius Institutes." USA Today [US] 8 Dec. 2009: 2A. 33 Zeng, Rachel. "Questions on the Confucius Institute at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln." Personal interview. 21 Nov. 2011. 34 Ibid. 35 Marklein, Mary Beth. "A Clash over Confucius Institutes." USA Today [US] 8 Dec. 2009: 2A. 36 Yang, Rui. "Soft Power and Higher Education: an Examination of China's Confucius Institutes." Globalisation, Societies and Education 8.2 (2010): 241. 37 Ibid. 238. 38 Paradise, James F. "China and International Harmony: The Role of Confucius Institutes in Bolstering Beijing's Soft Power." Asian Survey 49.4 (2009): 653. 39 Ibid. 650. 40 See Paradise, James F. "China and International Harmony: The Role of Confucius Institutes in Bolstering Beijing's Soft Power." Asian Survey 49.4 (2009): 657-8. Paradise establishes through multiple interviews that while most CI educators feel their jobs are apolitical in nature, many high-ranking government officials only support the CI Initiative due to its soft power potential. 41 Zheng, Yongnian. Discovering Chinese Nationalism in China: Modernization, Identity, and International Relations. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999. 48. 42 Schell, Orville. "China's Quest for Moral Authority." The Nation 20 Oct. 2008: 24. 43 Zhang, Tiejun. "Self-Identity Construction of the Present China." Comparative Strategy 23.3 (2004): 290. 44 Melvin, Sheila. "Yu Dan and China's Return to Confucius." The New York Times 29 Aug. 2007. 45 Bell, Daniel. China's New Confucianism: Politics and Everyday Life in a Changing Society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 2008. 163-74 (Appendix 1). 46 Schell, Orville. "China's Quest for Moral Authority." The Nation 20 Oct. 2008: 25. 47 Ibid.12. 48 Yang, Rui. "Soft Power and Higher Education: an Examination of China's Confucius Institutes." Globalisation, Societies and Education 8.2 (2010): 240. 49 Sun, Yuan. "Questions on the Sihai Confucius Academy." E-mail interview. 7 Nov. 2011. 50 Ibid. 51 For more information, see <http://www.ertong.org/Index.html> 52 Sun, Yuan. "Questions on the Sihai Confucius Academy." E-mail interview. 7 Nov. 2011. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. 56 According to Mrs. Reinhardt, the CI has provided funding to three area organizations: the LCCA, the Chinese Students and Scholars Association and the Taiwan School. See Jue, Yezi. "Questions on the Confucius Institute at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln." Telephone interview. 29 Nov. 2011. 57 Ibid. 58 Sun, Yuan. "Questions on the Sihai Confucius Academy." E-mail interview. 7 Nov. 2011. 26
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The New Player: How China’s Growing Role in Africa is Affecting the World Bank’s Policies and Strategy for Reform Sondra Appelson, Georgetown University As the hype of newspaper headlines attests, China’s presence abroad has expanded dramatically during the past decade, a reflection of its rapid rise as a global actor. Although still a far smaller player than development partners in the West on the whole, China is poised to spend more on African infrastructure development than the World Bank by year’s end.1 Motivated by political and economic concerns, China has turned abroad to foster diplomatic alliances and business partnerships, turning most recently to a continent, rich in natural resources and eager to meet its growing raw material demands. Upsetting the status quo, Chinese engagement presents both opportunities and challenges for Africa and the donor community. South-South cooperation, broadly encompassing the exchange of expertise and resources between developing country governments and organizations, has been gaining momentum. As traditional donors are cutting their aid budgets substantially in the face of the global financial crisis of 2008, the emerging markets – particularly China – are picking up the slack, by joining the ranks of development provider countries. The “era of one-way development cooperation is rapidly becoming outdated,”2 as countries of the South, which are facing or have recently overcome similar development challenges, find ways to benefit from each other’s experiences and cooperate to further their own economic development. The increasing role and leadership of middle-income countries like China have contributed to the rise of a “new aid architecture,”3 providing an alternative to the traditional multilateral institutions, such as the World Bank. South-South engagement – principally spearheaded by China – has transformed how multilateral institutions partner with aid recipients. Forced to adapt to this new dynamic, traditional donors have begun to take notice of the ways in which South-South cooperation impact their existing relationships with recipient countries. This paper attempts to evaluate China’s role – through trade, aid and investment – in Africa and how this is affecting World Bank policies and strategy. Due to the constraints in available data and candidness regarding the stance of the World Bank, much of what can be gleaned from the compiled information is to be inferred rather than conclusively proven in the data. However, the paper argues that the World Bank reacts to the role of China in different ways, depending on the level of agreement between it and China.. There is little doubt that the World Bank sees its operations and lending impacted by the breadth of the alternative presented by China’s involvement. In those cases in which there is discernible divergence between the stance and objectives of the World Bank and those of China, the World Bank is choosing not to publicly confront China. But when weighing China’s commitment to supporting international norms, the paper shows that there may be some early indications of change, although subtle and often limited to outlier situations. The first quarter of the paper will be dedicated to providing an outline of existing scholarly takes on how China’s increasing prominence has impacted the existing world order. This portion will include an overview of China’s rapid rise in economic and political might; how this has -18-
necessitated its engagement with the developing world; perspectives on its impact; and how this is affecting ‘traditional’ development actors, namely the World Bank. The final three quarters of the paper delves into the two complementary roles for China in Africa, as its involvement continues to encroach on the World Bank’s traditional sphere of influence. The paper concludes by considering the implications of this analysis for China, Africa and the World Bank in the future. As an oftendiscussed, frequently-maligned topic, it is important to understand the impact of China’s engagement with Africa and the ripple effects of this alternative approach to international development as they pertain to World Bank policies and strategy. It is this paper’s contention that, despite the negative press, there are some indications of movement on the part of the Chinese to act more in line with the traditional donor community.
The Mounting Presence: The Rapid Rise of China Few topics have garnered as much attention in recent years as the rise of the BRIC countries – Brazil, Russia, India and China – and few countries are poised to have as much impact on the world in the upcoming years as China. Already the second largest economy, China is predicted to eclipse the US to become the world’s largest economy by even as early as 2016, based on International Monetary Fund projections of GDP purchasing power parity.4 Even if changes in the current trends prove this prediction to be inaccurate, there is little doubt that China is becoming a global economic superpower on the world stage. Since the policy reform process began in 1978, China’s economy has undergone rapid growth and structural change, shifting from a centrally planned to market-based economy. With one of the world’s fastest growing economies, China has averaged approximately a 9.7 percent rate of GDP growth per year5 during these last three decades of expansion. Real GDP is now more than 14 times the level that it was in 1978, when Deng Xiaoping initiated economic reforms, and per capita GDP is more than ten times larger.6 China’s growth is recognized both for its speed and longevity, as well as its geographic spread.7 To sustain these record levels of economic growth, China has increased its demand for natural resources and raw materials to use as inputs – most notably energy and minerals – as well as consumer markets in which it can sell its goods. As its economy and level of power relative to other nations have grown, Chinese foreign policy has placed greater emphasis on international economic exchange beneficial to its development. Foreign direct investment, foreign natural resources, foreign energy reserves, and foreign consumption have been critically important in advancing and sustaining China’s recent levels of economic growth. Self-sufficient in energy until 1993, China has had to turn abroad to meet its growing energy needs, after three decades of rapid growth. Now the largest energy consumer in the world,8 China has more than quadrupled its proportion of imports for oil consumption since 1995.9 China consumes an ever-growing share of international raw materials, including iron ore, aluminum, nickel and timber, to fuel its construction boom, infrastructure investment and growing domestic manufacturing production. China has even begun to rely on imports of agricultural products as its water and arable land are in increasingly short supply.10 China’s growing need for mineral resources and food is seen as a major factor driving its rapid expansion of trade and investment abroad. China has sought to either purchase or invest in foreign energy and raw materials companies and infrastructure projects, such as oil and gas pipelines, mines and refineries.11 In securing supplies of energy, China tends to invest in new oil and gas fields, rather than simply buying energy on the market, in a strategy that some say is to ensure that other countries cannot cut off its supplies, even if relations “sour.”12 -19-
A large share of China’s imports of raw materials, components, parts and production machinery is used to manufacture products for export. With an abundance of relatively cheap labor, China was able to become internationally competitive in many low-cost, labor-intensive manufactured goods, which require it to import natural resources.13 As manufactured products continue to constitute an increasingly large share of China’s trade, it has had to look beyond the scope of its traditional trade partners in the US and Europe to target consumers in other regions. China’s economic concerns, coupled with some political considerations, have been driving the expansion of its trade and investment activities in countries around the world, even in areas where China’s presence had been comparatively limited. Although China places greater emphasis on its relationships with major powers and neighboring states, its interactions with the developing world have risen in relative importance in recent years. In practical terms, China’s engagement with the developing world serves both economic purposes – ensuring access to critical natural resources, including energy reserves, and access to overseas markets for its products – and political goals – to garner support in the UN and promote a multipolar world that enhances developing country interests.14
“South-South Cooperation”: China’s Engagement with the Developing World According to China’s most recent white paper on foreign aid,15 China had given more than 256 billion yuan, or nearly $40 billion dollars, to 161 countries and more than 30 international and regional organizations between the launch of its foreign aid program in 1950 and the end of 2009. This included more than 106 billion yuan in grants, almost 80 billion yuan in interest-free loans and more than 73 billion yuan in concessional loans, “to help recipient countries strengthen their selfdevelopment capacity, enrich and improve their peoples’ livelihood, and promote their economic growth and social progress.” Touting it as South-South cooperation – i.e., mutual help between developing countries – China says that its foreign assistance is regulated by ‘Eight Principles for Economic Aid and Technical Assistance to Other Countries’: (1) maintaining that foreign aid has a mutual benefit and promotes friendly bilateral relations; (2) not imposing political conditions or interfering in recipient countries’ internal affairs; (3) providing economic aid in the form of interestfree or low-interest loans and extending the limit for repayment when necessary; (4) helping to build self-development capacity; (5) completing projects which require less investment but yield quicker results; (6) providing for the “best-quality” equipment and materials manufactured by China at international prices; (7) seeing to it that the personnel of the recipient country master the technology when given technical assistance; and (8) dispatching experts – to help in construction in recipient countries – who will have the same standard of living as experts of the partner country.16 This is all part of China’s ‘go out’ -20-
(zou chuqu) policy of actively encouraging and even facilitating Chinese corporate activity overseas. China’s influence in the developing world has been manifested in a variety of ways, which can be classified into at least five groups: investment, trade, humanitarian aid, diplomacy and participation in multilateral institutions and exchange programs. Financial resources for Chinese investment tend to fall into two categories: interest-free loans and concessional loans. With a tenure of 20 years, interest-free loans are provided to developing countries, with what China considers to be relatively good economic conditions, to help them construct public facilities. With an annual interest rate between 2 and 3 percent and a period of repayment of 15 to 20 years, concessional loans are used to help developing countries construct transportation, communications and electricity infrastructure, and support the development of energy and other natural resources.17 (Refer to Figure 1 for a representation of the sectoral distribution of concessional loans, according to China’s white paper on foreign aid.) Chinese investment has increased rapidly, but it began from a very low base. Although Chinese investment was worth $1.4 billion in Africa from 2000 to 2006, this tally is seemingly dwarfed by the level of U.S. international investment ($6 billion during the same period).18 This investment has largely been dedicated to the energy, agriculture and infrastructure sectors of the developing world, particularly in what some characterize as “highly visible projects,” such as construction of stadiums and governments buildings that provide “recognition” for China.19 Trade agreements often accompany large investments. China has concurrently been developing its access to natural resources and markets for its manufactured goods. Becoming an important trading partner, and for some countries their largest trading partner, China has been buying up large stocks of minerals, oil and timber to use as inputs to fuel its rapid economic expansion and exploring foreign markets in which it can sell its finished manufactured goods. By 2007, China was already consuming a third of the world’s steel, half of its cement, and a quarter of its fertilizer, aluminum and copper.20 Although the vast majority of Chinese “assistance” to developing countries consists of trade and investment ties, China is providing an increasing amount of official development assistance (ODA).21 These disbursements of loans made on concessional terms with a grant element of at least 25 percent to promote economic development and welfare in countries22 are what development organizations in the West recognize as foreign aid. Because China tends to view its engagement with the developing world as an economic endeavor with commercial benefits, China often uses aid as a “goodwill gesture” when investing in or trading with resource-rich countries.23 This can take the form of building schools, hospitals, water-supply projects and low-cost housing and dispatching medical teams to offer free medical -21-
devices and medicines. Grants are also used in providing emergency humanitarian aid to regions that have suffered from a severe natural or humanitarian disaster.24 Although not formally giving a kind of foreign aid, China, like others in the West, has in the past decade moved on six occasions (2000, 2005, 2006, 2008, 2009, 2010) to cancel debts incurred by heavily-indebted poor countries and least developed countries, forgiving 380 mature debts totaling 25.58 billion yuan from 50 countries.25 (Refer to Table 2 for a geographical representation of debt forgiveness, according to China’s white paper on foreign aid.) Increased Chinese economic involvement, through investment, trade and aid, has been accompanied by diplomatic activism and participation in international organizations. To protect its interests, China has promoted the notion of a multipolar world, a posture that often resonates well in developing countries and tends to foster a spirit of common cause in multilateral organizations, such as the UN and the WTO.26 In institutions in which each country has a single vote, such as the UN, China has found it useful to seek allies among the more numerous developing countries. On a more local level, China has joined regional development banks and organizations, such as the InterAmerican Development Bank, where China is a donor member, and the Organization of American States, where China is a permanent observer, in order to boost its international legitimacy and convey the image of a responsible and committed stakeholder that can play by the rules.27 On an individual basis, China hosts foreign leaders, even those from smaller African countries, in Beijing, and sends its top leaders to travel to developing countries to discuss bilateral relations.28 Since the 1980s, the only remaining ideological component to China’s interactions with developing countries has been its enforcement of the “one China” policy. China’s sole condition under which it will sign trade and investment agreements is that countries agree to support the People’s Republic of China, giving up diplomatic recognition of Taiwan.29 Of a more minor concern, exchange programs have been expanded to include academic, language and cultural exchanges, political training for foreign government officials, and media training for foreign news correspondents.30 Although not a formal mechanism of exchange, tourism has been encouraged, with an eye toward developing cultural and business ties between China and the international community.31
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Face-to-Face: China’s Relationship with Latin America and Africa According to the Chinese white paper on foreign aid, these forms of Chinese foreign assistance have gone to 161 countries and more than 30 international and regional organizations, including 123 developing countries that receive aid from China regularly. Of these, 30 are in Asia, 12 in Oceana, 12 in Eastern Europe, 51 in Africa and 18 in Latin America and the Caribbean. (Refer to Figure 2 for a geographical representation of foreign aid funds in 2009, according to China’s white paper on foreign aid.) As is evident, Chinese investment, trade, aid and other forms of interaction with Africa are particularly pronounced and are still growing. As China has become increasingly interested in obtaining access to oil and other minerals to fuel its rapid growth, Chinese attention to Africa has risen accordingly. As a region rich in natural resources, Africa is home to countries offering the material inputs needed to power Chinese industries. Understanding the level of funds that can flow into their countries if China decides to purchase their natural resources, commodity-exporting countries often compete for Chinese investment and long-term contracts.32 By providing a new, growing market for developing countries’ commodities, China has allowed several countries in Africa to pay off some of their debts and reduce potential financial instability, at least while commodity prices are high. China’s ability to invest abroad is becoming an important diplomatic and economic asset. In addition to securing the needed minerals, oil, and other raw materials, China is able to increase its ties to developing countries by supplying needed infrastructure and technical assistance. Referring to itself as the “world’s largest developing country,” China has interwoven its economic interests with its foreign policy goals, namely the desire to take the lead in promoting the collective interests of the “South.”33 By providing physical goods, like new roads and schools, in addition to exerting what international relations theorist Joseph Nye34 refers to as “soft power,” i.e., the ability to get what one wants through the attractiveness of one’s culture, political ideals and policies, rather than coercion or payments, China has become skilled at using public relations to promote its international image, particularly in the developing world. The Chinese government’s provision of infrastructure and development assistance without conditions, its commitment to noninterference in country affairs, attendance at or even hosting of annual meetings with regional organizations from every continent, priority attention to “win-win” solutions, and repeated proclamation of its allegiance to the interests of South-South cooperation have all appealed to developing world “sensibilities.”35 China’s president and premier have traveled to Africa more than half a dozen times in the past decade.36 With the African continent composed of the largest number of developing countries and with the remaining states that maintain diplomatic recognition of Taiwan largely found in Africa, this region is important for China to achieve its more political aims.37 But while diplomatic ties have been strengthened, there have been increasing levels of tension as of late. Admiration of China’s rise in power and appreciation for China’s contribution to infrastructure projects coexists with complaints about the import of foreign labor mixed with poor treatment of the local labor forces that are employed, disregard for environmental degradation and shoddy construction by Chinese firms. While many countries are greatly benefiting from China’s “thirst for resources,” certain countries, or segments of society, in Africa complain that competition from low-quality Chinese goods is dooming local industries.38 Trade agreements accompanying large investments can lead to a flood of imported goods with which local manufacturers cannot compete. Compounding the problem, China’s own products have not only been flooding domestic markets in Africa but also consumer markets in Europe and the US, where commodity-exporting countries like South Africa have traditionally sold their goods. -23-
This competition with China has become an obstacle for producers who fear losing out to Chinese manufacturers. Those who benefit from Chinese investment and trade are pitted against those who do not.
Confronting the Dragon: Understanding the Effect of China A survey of newspaper articles, academic journals, newly published books and conference themes seems to support the point that as China’s power on the world stage has continued to grow, it has faced increased coverage and scrutiny – favorable, negative and unbiased. Most studies seem to recognize that international relations have been intimately affected by the recent rise of China. In particular, China’s involvement in other parts of the developing world has become the latest in a series of ‘fads’ to be researched in the field of international development. While the existing analysis tends to agree on the increasing relevance of China’s role, attempts to identify what this means for the present world order and how this shift should be adequately addressed moving forward yield an array of interpretations. Conclusions about China’s role in the developing world tend to be grouped into one of two camps, which will be referred to as: the loose cannon and the late bloomer.
The Loose Cannon: China and the World Bank Working at CrossPurposes The first group (African Center for Economic Transformation 2009, U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations 2008, Wenping 2007, Zafar 2007), is inclined to draw the conclusion that China is diminishing the effectiveness of reforms touted in the West. Most illustrative of this is the flood of media interest – and academic writing as well – involving some “rather reactionary and ‘knee-jerk’” coverage, declaring China’s behavior “unacceptable.”39 For them, China’s relationship with the developing world is typified by its negative qualities. Frequently, Chinese businesses overlook environmental degradation in their projects abroad. Chinese corporate activities mainly hire laborers and managers brought in from China. When local labor is employed, safety standards are often ignored and working conditions are considered to be poor, making the Chinese known for a lack of corporate social responsibility. Cheap imported goods and infrastructure built by the Chinese have acquired a reputation for shoddy construction. Most importantly of all, China – often through some form of military support – has engaged with what some might refer to as “unsavory” regimes, meaning governments that are subjected to sanctions by governments in Europe and the US, international financial institutions, and others due to terrorist activities, egregious corruption, human rights violations and other economic, political and foreign policy practices seen to violate what are broadly accepted as international norms.40 China has stood by its policy of not interfering in other countries’ internal affairs, even in regard to countries that are notorious for their domestic and foreign policies, as is the case with Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. For supporters of this line of reasoning, Chinese engagement is considered problematic not just for the direct social, political and economic consequences of its policies, but also for the way in which it has prevented those in the West from achieving their desired outcomes. When supporting controversial regimes with which it has developed substantial economic ties, China has been prepared to use its power and influence in the UN and other international outlets to protect those interests, despite international disapproval, criticism or desire for intervention.41 On foreign aid in particular, China has been viewed as a sort of renegade, challenging prevailing norms by brazenly flouting the types of conditionality that have evolved and spread -24-
throughout the donor community during the past 25 or more years. China rejects not only the social conditions – human rights, labor standards and environmental norms – that have become widespread, but also the basic economic criteria – involving poverty alleviation and good governance – that almost all bilateral and multilateral agencies now push as a pre-requisite for their involvement.42 This has made some feel that China has become an almost reckless actor that is likely to cause damage, unintentionally or otherwise.
The Late Bloomer: China on a Steep Learning Curve The second group views China’s interactions with the developing world through a more forward-looking lens. Taking the idea that China defies international norms one step further, they already see some indications of reform on the part of China. Although a fairly marginalized view, it points to some movement on the part of China to adopt several of the ‘best practices’ of the international community. They point out that when evaluated using at least one level of analysis, there has been a steady trend since China’s entry into the UN in 1971 toward closer Chinese cooperation with the UN and an increasing range of multilateral organizations, including the international norms they support. While the record of Chinese adherence to multilateral guidelines and standards remains somewhat mixed,43 China has been more active in initiating and supporting multilateralism and has moved further in adopting “cooperative norms,” particularly in economic and some security areas.44 Despite the prevailing belief that China is reluctant to involve itself in anything that could curb its freedom of action or require costly commitments, it has been suggested that China has recognized that supporting some international ‘best practices’ may be in the interest of promoting its own security, stability and prosperity.45
Adapt or Die: How the World Bank Must Adjust to China’s New Role As Africans turn to China to provide an alternative to what they may consider “paternalistic” Western approaches or “subjugation” to Western aid conditionality,46 alignment in the field of international relations has changed. While much of the existing literature has been dedicated to clarifying how China’s interactions in Africa will affect the continent or how it will impact the US and Europe, less has been written regarding how this will influence the traditional leaders in the field of international development, namely the Bretton Woods institutions – the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. Through an analysis of World Bank lending data, conferences, published papers and private interviews with staff members, this paper will take the existing research one step further by analyzing how China’s role in Africa is affecting the World Bank’s policies and strategy.
History of the Behemoth: Mission, Policies and Experience of the World Bank Established in 1944, the World Bank Group is made up of five development institutions: the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, the International Development Association, the International Finance Corporation, the Multilateral Guarantee Agency and the International Centre for the Settlement of Investment Disputes. In its own words, the mission of the World Bank is to bring about worldwide poverty alleviation by “providing resources, sharing -25-
knowledge, building capacity and forging partnerships in the public and private sectors.”47 Set up to serve as a facilitator for post-World War II reconstruction and development in Europe, the World Bank currently focuses on poverty reduction and sustainable growth in the world’s poorest countries, solutions to the challenges faced by post-conflict and fragile states, development and financing for middle-income countries, and cross-cutting international issues like infectious diseases, climate change and trade.48 Along the way, the Bank has learned from its experiences. The prolonged and widespread debt crisis plaguing Latin America in the 1980s set the stage for “structural adjustment,” in which loans were offered in exchange for government commitments to economic reform. This set of policy prescriptions, advising tax reform, privatization and trade liberalization, is what became known as the “Washington consensus.”49 After facing intense criticism and undertaking its own process for self-assessment, the development community concluded that its approach had been too narrowly focused on macroeconomic policy. Over time, the Bank has begun to embrace a broader conception of the inputs necessary for development, expanding its range of projects and its view of development to include social goals, and most recently a governance framework.50 The introduction of the concept of governance in the development agenda reflects growing concerns over the effectiveness of aid. Working in fragile states has highlighted the importance of institution building, and experience with “neopatrimonial states” has brought about a focus on entrenched patronage.51 Confronted with declining aid budgets and increased scrutiny by civil society, the World Bank has given greater consideration to the pervasive effects of mismanagement and corruption. 52 There is a heightened awareness that the quality of a country’s governance is a key determinant of its ability to achieve sustainable development.
Attention Turns to Governance: How the World Bank Handles “Good Governance” Reforms First surfacing in the 1989 World Bank’s report on sub-Saharan Africa and spoken about publicly by then-President Wolfensohn who denounced the ‘cancer of corruption’ during the 1996 annual meetings,53 good governance – or at least the World Bank’s handling of the concept – encompasses the process by which authority is exercised in the management of a country’s economic and social resources for development and the capacity of governments to design, formulate and implement policies and discharge functions.54 In recent years, the strengthening of good governance has become both an objective and a condition for development assistance. The approaches used to strengthen good governance in developing countries are essentially consistent with those used to promote economic reform.55 Conditionality – formal and some less formal agreements and promises to undertake particular actions of reform – and other pressures and influences over the design, implementation, and procurement for programs and projects accompany loans made to recipient governments. With conditions for good governance thrown into the mix, the performance criteria on which loans are stipulated have increased several-fold since the 1980s.56 “The mission of the IMF and World Bank is not just to produce and propose ideas but to persuade borrowing countries to implement them.”57 It commits money – approximately $57.3 billion in loans, grants, equity investments, and guarantees to its members and to private businesses during the last fiscal year58 – but perhaps its real importance lies in its influence over the developing world’s policies.59 Once a country approaches the World Bank or the International Monetary Fund for a grant or loan, it opens up a number of opportunities for the institutions to wield influence through conditionality, advice and penalties. If a country fails or refuses to meet these prerequisites, -26-
the institutions can decline to lend to the country, thereby depriving it of the needed resources and sending a signal to other investors that it is unwilling to certify the country’s economic policies and prospects as sound.60 When countries have little access to other sources of finance, this can amount to a considerable level of bargaining power. But in recent years, China has been providing an alternative. China’s willingness to forgo political, human rights and environmental conditionality on assistance and investment has made it attractive to many states, particularly those regarded by the international community as being governed by autocratic regimes. China provides recipients with an escape from the Western funds that, due to the strings attached, are often regarded as less attractive. This new competition between Western and Chinese funding has influenced how the World Bank traditionally operates, and has potentially weakened its hand in attempting to promote good governance policy reform in the countries it supports. Originally, this paper sought to study how Chinese aid, trade, investment and other forms of involvement in Africa are affecting the World Bank’s strategy, policies and ultimately its effectiveness in carrying out its mission. Specifically, it intended to examine how the World Bank has approached the rise in Chinese involvement, how it has engaged China in the role it plays abroad, how it envisions its own position evolving, and how it has adjusted its policies to adapt to the changing environment. However, due to the limited information that is publicly available, much less than the aforementioned can be adequately analyzed and the majority of what can be concluded from the study must be inferred. The lack of transparency in the data released by China and the lack of forthrightness on the part of the World Bank have restricted the extent to which the impact of China on the World Bank can be discerned. Although much of what the World Bank presents publicly tends to show a positive outlook toward China’s increasing involvement in the developing world, there seems to be some reticence on behalf of staff members discussing the issue privately. Of course, this private departure from the ‘company line’ makes it difficult for staff members to speak candidly during interviews. Because there is no overarching strategy made publicly available regarding how the World Bank plans to confront China’s growing role, the effect of China on World Bank policies and strategy can be analyzed solely piecemeal, on the basis of individual cases in specific circumstances. There examples seem to point to two congruent ways China has acted, under different circumstances, and how the World Bank reacts in response. While not illustrating a strategy per-se, the paper does sketch out how China’s actions have garnered a World Bank response – sometimes one that engages China in its role abroad. However, the paper is unable to determine from the data and interviews how the World Bank envisions its relationship with China and its position as a provider of development assistance evolving. Nor can the paper argue how China has forced the World Bank to adjust its strategy. While policies have changed, there is no conclusive evidence to point to China as the principle cause. Rather than proving that the World Bank has been displaced by China or even demonstrating that the Chinese alternative has affected both its strategy and effectiveness, this paper will suggest that there is increased attention and sometimes unease in regard to the rise of China both as a donor and as a trade and investment partner. The paper will ultimately imply that there may be some signs of movement on the part of China to be more in line with traditional donors, at least in some areas.
The Loose Cannon: China and the World Bank Working at CrossPurposes -27-
As a senior manager explained,61 the World Bank’s engagement with China is probably marketed as, China has a great deal to offer to the world because of its own experience in combating poverty. However, it is also a matter of creating an understanding that, as a donor, there are certain things that work and others that do not. As the World Bank and other Western development organizations have learned throughout the past 60 years, simply plugging the financing gap does not bring about sustainable development. Rather, as experience has shown, development requires a broad conception of the necessary inputs, including economic, social and political considerations. The eventual push for a ‘good governance’ framework goes to show the increased focus on improving the management and ultimate effectiveness of aid. In urging the creation of a government framework that is more accountable to the needs of citizens, transparent in discharging administrative functions, and capable of delivering economic and social goods to the people, the World Bank uses a form of conditionality – agreements and promises to undertake particular actions of reform – when making loans to recipient governments. But with aid conditioned upon democratic reform and free market opening and doled out only after a lengthy process of setting up and meeting social and environmental safeguards,62 enlisting the help of the World Bank can become a lengthy, drawn-out, troublesome process.63 Governments in the developing world – and not just those led by pariahs reluctant to reform or relinquish power – are frequently turned off by the inflexible, bureaucratic red tape that delays and complicates project completion. Moreover, sustained Western policy pressure has a tendency to be interpreted as “paternalistic,”64 with the developed countries telling others in Africa how they should be running their countries. So when China offers to provide foreign aid without conditions, oftentimes in direct competition with bids from the World Bank or IMF, many developing countries are keen to jump ship. This has raised questions about China’s potential impact on an international development system that in recent years has sought to promote sustainable development by conditioning aid on adherence to standards of good governance, social and environmental protection and human rights. China’s desire to acquire critical natural resources and gain access to new markets by engaging developing countries has offered regimes an alternative source of financial support and thereby undercuts Western efforts to induce states to undertake domestic reform.65 China provides recipients with an escape from the “despised” Western conditionality that may “vitiate” any lasting value they can obtain from the aid itself and from the non-Chinese assistance that it may supplant.66 China poses a direct challenge to prevailing international norms on delivering aid by “ostentatiously” ignoring not only the social conditions – environmental norms, labor standards and human rights – that have become prevalent, but also much of the basic economic criteria – such as poverty alleviation and the financial components of good governance – that most of the other bilateral and multilateral aid agencies now require as a “matter of course.”67
Going Green: China’s Stance on Environmental Protection Alongside appreciation for China’s contribution to increasing economic activity and providing needed infrastructure, there are complaints about a lack of attention paid to the environment. China’s thirst for raw materials has driven it to Africa in order to engage in extracting natural resources, mainly through logging and mining. Although these activities raise needed resource rents for the country, due to limited environmental standards, there have been complaints about the lasting environmental degradation. -28-
The white paper released in 2006 on its African Policy68 promises China-Africa cooperation on climate change, water resource conservation, anti-desertification and preservation of biodiversity. Yet, these statements have done little to stem the rising tensions between Chinese companies and local communities over environmental damage by the mining and logging sectors. In Africa, Chinese economic activities involve large purchases of timber, some of it acquired from unlicensed loggers or companies with environmentally “unsound” logging practices.69 In 2006, the government of Gabon ordered the Chinese energy firm Sinopec to halt exploration in Loango National Park, because it was operating without an approved environmental impact study. According to the African Center for Economic Transformation, an estimated 80 to 100 percent of China’s timber imports from Cameroon, Republic of Congo, Gabon and Equatorial Guinea violate export restrictions set to prevent unsustainable logging.70 Concerns have also been raised over the environmental impact of various Chinese-run mining operations in Africa, including the titanium sand projects in parts of Kenya, Madagascar, Mozambique and Tanzania and the copper mines in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Zambia.71 By pursuing previously inaccessible resources in remote, ecologically fragile regions – often formerly protected as natural parks – Chinese investments have attracted attention for associated environmental risks. Such instances demonstrate China’s general disregard for the Equator Principles, a framework – based on the World Bank Group Environmental, Health, and Safety Guidelines – for assessing and managing environmental and social risk in project finance transactions, which are used to fund the development and construction of major infrastructure and industrial projects.72 This has prompted the International Finance Corporation (IFC), the private sector wing of the World Bank Group, to cooperate with some of the Chinese firms that are investing abroad to ensure that natural resource development cares for the environment and in the process follows higher standards, such as the Equator Principles. According to World Bank President Zoellick, Chinese government officials have expressed a willingness to discuss and engage on these issues, while the response among Chinese firms varies so far.73 As well-known researcher on China-Africa relations Deborah Brautigam noted to the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, Subcommittee on African Affairs and elaborates upon in her book, China in Africa: The Real Story, China has begun to require more elaborate environmental impact assessments for loans – usually conducted by European contracting firms.74 In the Democratic Republic of Congo for example, the China Eximbank’s agreement requires that each project spend 3 percent of the investment on environmental mitigation. As China Eximbank president Li Ruogu told Brautigam in late 2008, “We do not want the environment to be an issue.”
For Hire: Chinese Labor Practices Diminished concern for protecting the environment tends to go hand-in-hand with a lack of social safeguards, just as efforts to address one usually account for the other. Thus, the World Bank’s push for compliance with the Equator Principles takes into consideration both environmental and social – namely labor – practices. In 2007, the World Bank and China’s ExportImport Bank – a key channel of financing for exports, overseas construction contracts and investment projects and the only arm for concessionary lending – came together to sign a Memorandum of Understanding aimed to strengthen their working partnership, by hosting a series of workshops, seminars and training events on topics of concern, including environmental safeguard and social impact analyses,75 a year after then-president of the World Bank, Paul Wolfowitz, was quoted as saying that Chinese banks were breaking the Equator Principles.76 -29-
The issue was raised over criticism of Chinese labor practices. As China has become more involved economically in Africa, it has become increasingly active in the infrastructure and extractive industries markets. Chinese enterprises may have less capital-intensive technology, but their labor and material costs tend to be lower, giving them an edge in pricing and risk taking against their competitors in industrialized countries.77 Based on a characterization of China by a senior manager for the World Bank, these are commercial rather than aid projects, meaning they are meant to make money. On the whole, China’s approach has been mercantile – i.e., building infrastructure, such as ports, railways and roads, that lead to mines producing the minerals with which China expects to be paid. This leads to a lack of transparency and other practices that, as the manager for the Bank pointed out, would not be acceptable for a Western donor. When both priorities cannot be achieved in tandem, business concerns, such as guaranteeing cost efficiency, trump other issues, like ensuring the transfer of knowledge and skills.78
Vacancy: Chinese Hiring Practices There are concerns that the Chinese underutilize local labor and instead import Chinese workers to fill the positions, both as a cost saving measure and to serve as “prominent reminders” of Chinese assistance.79 Although there are not documented cases in which no local workers have been hired, the ratio of Chinese to local workers varies widely, affected by local labor laws, the work permit regime, the enforcement of work permits, the availability of skilled labor and ultimately its cost.80 Employing local workers “entangles” Chinese firms in local laws to a higher degree than hiring Chinese nationals, who face fewer language and cultural obstacles in communication with management. Chinese laborers abroad are known to be more compliant to the “demanding” labor practices of Chinese managers and are considered to be more “accustomed” to working longer hours, including during local holidays and overtime on weekends. Plus, Chinese workers are often more familiar with how to use the technologies.81 For example, in Angola – where decades of civil war have left skilled and literate workers scarce and expensive – Chinese companies find it pays to import workers from China. Conversely, in Tanzania – where development indicators are higher – the majority of Chinese construction companies reported that 80 percent of their labor was local, and in one case was as high as 95 percent.82 (Refer to information collected by Deborah Brautigam on the proportion of Chinese and African workers for selected projects.)83 Latin Americans tend to report that, regardless of the overall number of local versus imported workers, Chinese firms tend to reserve the “best” jobs – i.e., managerial and technical positions – and subcontracts for their citizens.84 Year
Location
Source
1983
Sierra Leone – Goma Hydropower Dam
Brautigam, Chinese Aid and African Development
1998
Sudan – oil pipeline, Block 5A “highland location”
Human Rights Watch
2007
Tanzania – village water systems project
2008 Interview, Pascal Hamuli -30-
Ratio
(project manager) 2007
Zambia – China National Overseas Engineering Corporation
The Guardian
2008
Ghana – Bui Dam
Labour Research and Policy Institute, Ghana
2010
Mozambique – stadium
The Africa Report
2010
Angola – Luanda Stadium
BBC News, The Africa Report
2010
Angola – China Railway 20 Bureau Group rehabilitation of 540km of the Benguela Railway
Railway Gazette
2010
Republic of Congo – Imboulou Dam
Reuters Africa
2010
Zambia – Collum Coal Mine
The New York Times
2010
Angola – 19 China Eximbank financed infrastructure projects
Angolan Ministry of Finance
2011
Rwanda – China Road & Bridge Corporation (CRBC)
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – China GeoEngineering Co. (CGEC) for water/electricity supply projects
2011
Rwanda – China Civil Survey conducted by Engineering Co. (CCECC) for Chinese official and housing shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – Huawei
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – ZTE Corporation
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
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2011
Rwanda – Beijing Construction Engineering Group (BCEG) for Kigali Conference Center
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – Star Africa Media Co for TV program
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – Top International Engineering Co. for new hospital
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Rwanda – Henan International Cooperation Group for roads
Survey conducted by Chinese official and shared with Brautigam
2011
Kenya – China Road & Bridge Corporation
China Daily, November 3, 2011
Source: Deborah Brautigam, “China in Africa: The Real Story,” accessed December 4, 2011. The reason China importing its own laborers has raised concerns is that it compromises local technology transfers. When foreign skilled workers are brought in with foreign capital and without any “effective means” of transferring the necessary skills to local workers, the transfer of know-how and technology into the host country is slowed. As the migration of skilled workers continues to grow, foreign investors have diminished incentives to engage in skills and technology transfers to local businesses or employees through hiring or subcontracts.85 As Adelhelm Meru, director general of Tanzania Export Processing Zones Authority complains, “Instead of just mining and bringing its domestic laborers, Chinese investors need to add value and make more efforts to train local residents and create jobs.”86 the golden rule: china’s treatment of employees Even when Chinese companies do not arrive with their own workforce but instead hire local laborers, objections have been raised. Namely, workers in Africa have lodged complaints about the poor treatment of local labor. Chinese firms have been accused of violating International Labor Organization (ILO) conventions on labor rights, including the right to join trade unions, engage in collective bargaining, receive equal payment and be protected against discrimination. Workplace safety and health are said to receive minimal concern, prompting Chinese companies to be seen as “poor corporate citizens.”87 According to the African Center for Economic Transformation, employees of Chinese firms are the lowest paid among foreign investors in Africa. For example, copper miners working for Chinese firms in Zambia are paid 30 percent less than copper miners working for other companies within the country.88 The case of Zambia – in which local workers have frequently protested against poor working conditions and low pay in Chinese-owned mines – is probably the best-known example of worker complaints against Chinese treatment of local laborers. In 2010, tensions came to a head when two Chinese managers fired shotguns into a crowd of miners protesting in Sinazongwe, a town in southern Zambia. Zambia’s recently-elected president, Michael Sata, was made famous for his rhetoric against the Chinese and his promise to fight for better pay and working conditions. Still, only a few months ago, production at a Zambian copper smelter and other Chinese-owned mines -32-
ground to a halt as workers seeking higher wages walked off the job. But as reknown China-Africa researcher, Deborah Brautigam, points out, the example of Zambia may also serve as a sign that China is “listening.” Witnessing the rise of Zambian backlash, Chinese officials “openly criticized” the owners’ labor practices.89 More broadly, in 2006, the Chinese government issued new regulations requiring its companies to pay attention to issues of what it termed, ‘localization’ – better known as corporate social responsibility – including respect for local customs, safety standards, and labor. Although enforcement among Chinese corporations doing business internationally has proven difficult,90 the Chinese government has pledged the establishment of good labor relations and coordination in international organizations, such as the ILO.91
Quality Assurance: Chinese Manufactured Goods and Construction Work By paying lower wages, the Chinese have excelled at producing cheap goods, enabling them to reach a broader consumer base that can afford to purchase their products. This is of particular concern in Africa, where poverty rates normally would prevent parts of the population from being able to afford many of the consumer goods that are now available to them due to China’s cheap pricing. However, the obvious flipside is the charge that Chinese firms produce low-quality manufactured goods and engage in “shoddy” construction work.92 According to the African Center for Economic Transformation, some consumers in Cameroon, Namibia and Nigeria have boycotted Chinese retailers, believing their products to be inferior.93 In Zimbabwe, Chinese goods that have recently flooded the domestic market are locally known as ‘zhing-zhongs,’ a derisive term to describe anything substandard.94 Aware of the criticism directed against it, China promises cooperation and improved consultation mechanisms on quality inspection to ensure product quality and food safety.95 In Africa, the World Bank has become involved, through events like the China-Africa Knowledge Exchange Workshop in Uganda and the Second International Roundtable on China-Africa Health Collaboration,96 which gave African participants the opportunity to discuss China’s development assistance and engage in what was described as “lively exchange” on how to take advantage of an economic relationship with China, while not forgoing consideration of other issues. Concerns were raised regarding the quality of Chinese exports, particularly due to reports of counterfeit medicines illegally imported from China. Discussions focused on pharmaceutical quality among other issues, like imbalances in China-Africa trade; labor, social and environmental standards of Chinese investments; China’s ‘no strings attached’ approach to aid; transparency in natural resource investment; and the degree of attention to good governance.97
Judged by the Company One Keeps: China’s Support for Pariah Regimes China’s engagement with regimes generally shunned by other countries for their violations of accepted international norms has generated concern and sometimes even strong criticism. Termed ‘rogue aid’ by Moisés Naím, the argument is that China is using foreign aid to ‘buy’ favors from autocratic leaders, and otherwise ignoring violations of human rights and good governance practices as it invests in resource-rich developing countries.98 -33-
But some within China argue that the perception of a ‘China threat’ has forced it to pursue deals with problematic but natural resource-rich countries, due to the lack of more agreeable opportunities. When brokering deals with regimes that many in the West find “distasteful,” China can take advantage of the lack of US and European competition.99 With government backing, Chinese corporations are generally “undeterred by risk,”100 allowing them to operate in places like Sudan and Angola where conflict still simmers. Not only does the absence of Western firms and the support of the government allow China to have access to resources at a more modest cost, but China’s ability to invest abroad in regions where other major powers do not has also become an important diplomatic asset used to gain allies.101 For impoverished, autocratic regimes, China’s willingness to forgo political – and environmental, social, etc. – conditionality on assistance and investment is attractive. Previously, indebted countries had to ask organizations in the West, most likely the IMF and/or the World Bank, for an increase in financing, which would have entailed promises and agreements to reform. Now, with China declining to interfere in others’ internal affairs and asking little more than that ‘partner’ countries recognize China over Taiwan, governments unwilling to commit to reforms can oftentimes be kept afloat through funds offered by China. Chinese loans from 2005 to 2007 have enabled the Angolan government to undertake infrastructure projects “regarded by the World Bank and the IMF as wasteful and unnecessary” and to resist pressure for greater transparency and efficiency in the management of its oil revenues.102 Angola infamously rejected a loan from the IMF because China offered a similar deal, minus the conditionality. There was a period of time in which Angola relied on financing from China and basically refused Western assistance, but by the late 2000s, Angola found that it was still vulnerable to oil price fluctuations. Once oil prices plunged, Angola ran into problems and had to return to the IMF, making it an example of a country that tried to make it without help from the West but was unsuccessful.103 China’s funding may give countries more scope for refusing Western donor aid by providing an alternative, but it does not obliterate the need or desire for World Bank assistance. As a former official with the IMF said, this example shows that it is difficult for countries to turn their backs entirely on Western development institutions. armed conflict: military support Chinese support to unsavory regimes can and has made conflicts more difficult to resolve. China provides investment funds which are drawn on to prolong wars and uses its diplomatic sway to weaken or thwart international action meant to bring conflicts to a close.104 If a country is of particularly strategic significance, China has been prepared to use its power in the UN and other international influence to protect its interests.105 It sometimes directly sells arms and security equipment that enable the violence. China outlines three principles for its international arms-transfer policy: that exports boost the “legitimate self-defense needs” of the recipient; that they not damage regional or international peace and stability; and that China not interfere in others’ domestic affairs.106 In Africa, China has provided military equipment to the Mugabe regime in what some characterize as its willingness to trade guns for market access in Zimbabwe. Providing arms, a dozen jet fighter aircraft and a hundred military vehicles, China has in turn received a share in the Zimbabwean mines, power production and agricultural sector and an outlet to sell its manufactured goods.107 Likewise, China has delivered millions of dollars worth of ammunition, small arms, tanks, helicopters and antipersonnel mines, in addition to helping establish weapons factories in Sudan – said to be the “most important” African recipient of military assistance from China.108 By selling arms and other military equipment to the Khartoum government, even after a UN-embargo was imposed, China was helping Sudan crush rebels in the south. -34-
Military and other forms of support for pariah regimes and the delinking of aid from political reform has raised concerns that the flow of Chinese aid may cause governments to delay or forgo reforms that promote transparency and accountability. As one former international development administrator predicts, in the future, the Chinese are going to learn hard lessons other donors have already learned. Namely, they are going to get burned by supporting governments who do not care about implementing responsible policies. If they identify with governments that are hated by their own people, then they are going to have to pay for the aftermath of change, if and when there is a turnover in regimes. The Chinese are going to learn that their behavior has repercussions. She suspects that if we fast forward, Chinese involvements are going to evolve to be more like other government relations, in that China is going to have to be more careful about its country partners.109
Reigning it in: The World Bank’s Dealings with a Rogue Actor Careful not to say there is tension “per se” between the World Bank and China, a senior manager at the World Bank described the relationship as one that does not necessarily reflect the same arrangements.110 The World Bank is being forced to compete with other donors that are not bound by the same rules. China lends for what he described as its own self-interest, which is what the US and countries in Europe did more heavily in the past, before learning from their earlier mistakes. The World Bank worries that emerging donors – namely China – still do not have the experience and capacity to provide the same level of “high-quality” development assistance.111 Although not strongly reflected in the lending data, there are signs that the World Bank is right to worry. In the face of competition from an actor that does not focus on good governance, from 2008 to 2010, the World Bank has shifted the composition of its lending. Though none of the levels tend to be entirely steady over long periods of time, from 2008 to 2010 the percent of World Bank lending for public sector governance in both Latin America and Africa has declined by 23 and 6 percentage points, respectively. While it is too early to know if these data are indications of a lasting trend and there is no definitive evidence of a causal link between the decline in lending for public sector governance and the rise in Chinese engagement, there is evidence to suggest a connection. With China offering to carry out needed projects without the same regard for good governance, countries are able to receive funding for many of the same projects they favor – for example, to build infrastructure – without the added ‘burden’ of engaging in governance reforms. With less demand for reforms that target improved governance, World Bank lending for this sector has deteriorated. According to a World Bank official, the challenge for the Bank is to convince China that it needs to adopt certain standards because “this is the way countries behave.” But it is a “hard sell.” The key is to promote a dialogue by bringing the Chinese to the table, treating them like the “big and important” donor that they are, and reminding them of what they learned from working with the Bank on their own development.112
The Late Bloomer: China on a Steep Learning Curve A prevailing view holds that China’s approach to multilateralism has shown a level of hesitance and even reluctance to be a fully engaged participant. Disinclined to allow participation in international organizations to curb its freedom of action involving key issues of sovereignty or security or require costly commitments, China seemed to be maneuvering to pursue its national interests without concern for international norms.113 But however minor the indications may be, -35-
there is some evidence that China is becoming a more engaged participant in international negotiations, at least under specific circumstances. On the surface, Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s approach to multilateralism has changed markedly. Once guided by isolationist policies, China was weary of the undue foreign influence and interdependence that membership in multilateral institutions might entail. Beginning in the mid-1960s and accelerating through the 1970s, China began to reverse its policy of self-isolation, with an acknowledgement for the need to engage international regimes. The first, and in many ways most fundamental, motivation for this reversal was its desire to gain international recognition as the sole legitimate government of China, while simultaneously delegitimizing Taiwan. Second, China realized the symbolic benefits of membership, including prestige, recognition and the ability to stand as a leader for developing world interests. Third, China calculated that joining the international order could provide concrete benefits for the country as it started down the now-famous path of economic reforms. Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s active participation ensures that it will play an important role in decisions affecting the world economy on which its own development depends. International integration would open it up to trade and foreign investment and support from the international financial institutions would provide technical advice in designing its policies of economic reform. Thus, since 1971 when it gained entry into the UN and 1980 when it assumed its seat in the IMF and the World Bank, China has been on a path toward increasing its role in international institutions, both in terms of breadth and depth of its engagement.114 As Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s international stature rises, it has been increasingly important to become involved in a wider array of international organizations in order to protect and cultivate the ever growing range of Chinese foreign policy interests. Now 30 years later, China participates in more than 70 international organizations,115 whether as an observer state, partner nation or full-fledged member. Not only is China involved within organizations and issues that directly pertain to itself and its neighbors in Asia, but China has also branched out, taking on membership in a broad range of associations to protect its growing economic and other interests around the world. At this level of analysis, there has been a steady trend toward closer Chinese government cooperation with the UN and an ever-widening number of multilateral institutions, including regional organizations such as the African Development Bank. Whereas in some organizations, like the Inter-American Development Bank, China has been content to monitor the agenda without proactively working to achieve an explicit set of objectives, in others, like the UN Security Council, China has used these organizations as a platform to project both hard and soft power, shape policies and positions and promote national interests.116 Initially, China used its participation to pursue narrow national interests, without great concern for international norms. Primarily, China set about enhancing its reputation, deflecting international criticism and securing its interests more effectively. Since the late 1990s, China has been increasingly active in its support and even initiation of multilateralism. It has moved further in adopting cooperative norms, not only in economic but also in some security areas.117
Doubletake: Whether to Comply with International Standards Although China has not explicitly clarified the motivation that prompted this gradual tendency toward increased engagement in multilateral institutions, speculation reasonably concludes that China has realized that, in regard to some issues in particular, its interests overlap with those of the rest of the international community. Both China and other countries, such as those in Europe and the US, recognize the dangers of transnational threats to their own security and have an interest in empowering developing countries to fulfill their domestic duties to prevent the emergence of -36-
failed states that could become breeding grounds for international crime and infectious diseases.118 From the perspective of positive reinforcement, aiding developing countries has the potential to increase the buying power of their domestic constituencies who will go on to purchase consumer goods from abroad. There has been a steady trend toward closer Chinese government cooperation with multilateral institutions and the international norms they support, but the record of Chinese adherence to multilateral guidelines and norms remains somewhat mixed.119 In evaluating its stance toward multilateralism, China’s domestic interests and agenda take center stage. China’s foremost concern is that its commitments to international norms not infringe on its efforts to expand economic growth nor impede its independence in areas sensitive to its security and political interests. In this sense, China’s recent move toward increased multilateral cooperation does not represent an actual departure from its principal concern for its own narrow national interests, but rather a more nuanced understanding of what this entails. Politically, this has most noticeably taken the form of increased cooperation within the UN Security Council. Previously, China was portrayed as a reluctant supporter. Its promotion of noninterference has put it at odds with attention in Europe and the US on human rights and democracy promotion in the developing world. Whereas China has tended to focus on economic and social rights, the West often uses the UN Security Council as a forum to protect political and civil rights. Europe and the US have increasingly become concerned with individual justice, developing a norm of humanitarian intervention, and a focus on the promotion of democracy. But these tendencies are problematic for the Chinese, who remain concerned that such intervention could at some point be directed at them or their interests abroad.120 This philosophical dispute has played out before the UN Security Council, most evidently during attempts to impose sanctions against countries viewed as pariahs in the West. When the US and Europe have tried to use the UN Security Council to impose forms of leverage against governments accused of committing human rights abuses against their own citizens – including Sudan, Zimbabwe and Myanmar/Burma – in an attempt to induce change in leadership, China has watered down, or even vetoed the resolutions. Traditionally disliking sanctions as a method of pressure, China has repeatedly affirmed its preference for diplomacy as the better method for resolving disputes and evaluates calls for international intervention on a case-by-case basis, particularly when it perceives that the situation does not threaten international security. However, more recently there have been signs of change. Most emblematically, in early March 2007, China took Sudan, Iran and Nigeria off of its list of “favored investment destinations.”121 Since the start of the new millennium, China has voted in favor of every newly established UN peacekeeping operation, those missions to assist in conflict-afflicted countries to create conditions for sustainable peace, which may include monitoring and observing ceasefire agreements, contributing to a more secure environment for the delivery of humanitarian assistance, assisting with demobilization and reintegration processes, strengthening institutional capacities in the areas of judiciary and the rule of law, policing and human rights, electoral support, and economic and social development.122 By 2009, China was the fourteenth largest contributor to UN missions, with troops, police and military observers in Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Côte d’Ivoire, Liberia, the Western Sahara and Haiti, numbering more than any other permanent member of the UN Security Council. China now deploys more than 20 times as many peacekeepers as it did in 2000.
Conflict-Ridden Environments: Short-term versus Long-term Benefits -37-
It would be hasty and premature to conclude that these instances represent a harbinger of change. Whether this means China has turned a corner from its usual strict adherence to a policy of ‘noninterference,’ or this represents an anomaly in a more consistent pattern is yet to be seen. Yet, it does seem that there has been a greater demonstration of China’s sensitivity to how it is viewed internationally and a concern for damaging its reputation.123 Although China has maintained its general opposition to international sanctions and other such pressure, China has sometimes eased its resistance in cases in which strong opposition would isolate it or hurt other significant interests.124 As it seeks increased “legitimacy” for its rise as a world power, China does not want to be considered the leader of a group of the worst autocracies. “It has been embarrassed by the levels of criticism it has faced in the world media over Darfur and for its backing of problem regimes more generally.”125 China is seeking to raise its profile in the international community as a constructive and responsible power. Chinese policymakers see engagement in peacemaking and conflict resolution as a way for China to project a more benign and harmonious image abroad, to reassure other countries of its peaceful intentions, while establishing its status as a world power.126 Sudan provides a good example of how China is struggling to deal with the impact of its noninterference policy on its international reputation. China’s reliance on Sudan’s light and lowsulfur crude oil motivates its political support for the Sudanese government. Despite human rights violations in Darfur and the violent conflict between the north and south in Sudan, China has provided the Khartoum government with tanks, combat aircraft and small arms, as well as investment funds for the oil industry. However, in 2007, responding in part to mounting international criticism of its relations with the Sudanese government, China urged Sudan to accept a UN-African Union peacekeeping mission in Darfur, in an apparent break with its normal policy of noninterference.127 China’s increasing willingness to contribute to peacekeeping missions in Sudan and elsewhere seems partly aimed at deflecting international criticism as well as building its international profile.128 Facing criticism for its relationship with ‘pariah’ regimes may increasingly seem more damaging for its overall, long-term welfare as a country, than it is beneficial for a temporary boost to economic growth. On the one hand, China has been able to extract natural resources and make a profit off of selling arms to regimes fraught with conflict. However, the violence associated with working in conflict-ridden regions has had a tendency to make its investments perilous by leading to defaults on loans. Furthermore, direct threats to Chinese citizens have grown, including kidnappings and attacks in Ethiopia and Sudan. Most recently in early 2012, the rebel Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-North in South Kordofan held 29 Chinese workers who had been working on road construction projects in the area for eleven days. As the third abduction involving Chinese nationals since 2004, the incident has reportedly strained relations between the Sudanese and Chinese governments.129 While unquestioned support may have been useful as state companies signed initial energy agreements, it is less helpful in securing China’s long-term energy interests, particularly as it is forced to confront risks to its investments, citizens and security. Although China still tends to shield these ‘unsavory regimes’ from criticism, it is shifting from “outright obstructionism” to a more nuanced strategy of balancing current resource needs with its desire to present itself as a responsible world power. Attempting to balance its political and economic interests, China has been pursuing “a more constructivist diplomatic approach,” while mainly continuing its usual energy activities.130
Learning by Doing: Change Over Time
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Some have been led to conclude that China’s previously strong stance was less the result of malicious intentions than a lack of expertise and relative indifference toward the possibility of political and social consequences of its actions.131 If the record of Western countries is any indication, as China’s ties with other countries continue to grow and improve and its experience builds, its understanding and perspective on issues will continue to evolve. Many of the norms advocated by the West have only more recently been adopted as foreign aid ‘best practices.’ China has recently been faulted for supporting autocrats with whom it has significant economic ties. The US was criticized for funneling aid to Zaire’s Mobutu Sese Seko during the Cold War. Now – although there are still claims of support by the US and other large donors for leaders who care little about democracy and good governance – there has been a notable departure from this previous tendency. Likewise, the West accuses China of using aid as a means to further its own economic growth, rather than purely as a form of humanitarianism. However, even as late as 1991, when a report entitled, “The Tying of Aid,” was released by the Development Centre of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, 50 percent of bilateral official development aid given by Development Assistance Committee (DAC) countries was tied or partially tied – i.e., made up of loans, credits or associated financing packages where procurement of the goods or services involved is limited to the donor country or to a group of countries which does not substantially include developing countries. Approximately 70 percent of bilateral aid from Western Europe led directly to procurement in the donor countries. Thus, even those countries in the West now hailed for their generous and progressive aid programs once engaged in a practice that benefited their own export sectors at the expense of efficient aid allocation.132 So while it may be easy to point to specific practices of the Chinese in the developing world and call it a rogue actor, engaging in a dangerous form of foreign aid, historical evidence suggests this may just be a phase. As China continues to be involved with developing countries, particularly in Africa and Latin America, it will progressively learn from its mistakes and improve its tactics for strategic engagement. Despite its increasingly constructive role in multilateral processes, it still has a long way to go to harmonize its investments and foreign assistance practices with those recommended by the World Bank and the IMF, leaving it fairly unlikely that China will fully reform itself from within. However, there are some modest signs that China has been open to change. In Conclusion: How Do CHINA AND the World Bank Adapt Moving Forward Although its engagement in the developing world has rapidly increased in the past ten years, China still provides less development assistance than the US or the World Bank. Yet despite the statistical disparity, Chinese engagement has begun to rhetorically eclipse aid coming from the West, particularly with respect to Africa. With Chinese assistance rising quickly, it does not seem difficult to envision a time in the not too distant future in which data will confirm that China has surpassed the World Bank and others to become the largest donor. Traditionally accustomed to being at the forefront of the issue and a leader in the field, the World Bank now finds itself internally and externally confronted by the behemoth that is China. As a manager for the World Bank’s Trust Fund operations department said, China is willing and able to hand over lots of money to replenish the coffers of the International Development Association (IDA), which supports anti-poverty programs in the poorest of developing countries. This comes at a time when the developing world is cutting back in the face of the 2008 financial crisis. Of course, as he said, China in exchange wants to become the second largest shareholder, giving it increasing power over the strategy, policy and program management of the World Bank.133 Beyond the confines of the beltway, the World Bank has had to ‘compete’ against an actor that is not bound by the same rules. China is willing to complete a project faster (i.e., without the added hassle of comprehensive social and environmental impact assessments), and under terms -39-
often considered more agreeable to recipients – for reasons ranging from a lack of interference in internal affairs (or as others would call it, a disregard for good governance and human rights) to listening and responding to projects wanted by recipients (e.g., building a sports stadium), and even for referring to the relationship as a ‘partnership’ rather than charity. Because of the increasing size and breadth of China’s engagement with the countries in which the World Bank is working, the World Bank has to rethink its strategy. Presented with the option of receiving financing from one of the two competing actors, several developing countries have chosen China’s offer over that of the World Bank. If the Bank values its mission and believes in the importance of the issues over which it has faced dissention from China – eg., good governance, environmental standards, human rights, – this should be, and likely is, an area of increased concern. Yet, as a manager at the World Bank said, a lot of what the World Bank is doing in regard to this issue is not widely discussed within or outside of the Bank. Moreover, the World Bank does not have any information publicly available regarding ways in which it has changed its policies or strategy in the face of increased competition from China. This paper has presented indications of how China’s role through trade, aid and investment in Africa is affecting World Bank policies and strategy. It has shown that simply due to the scale of Chinese involvement, the World Bank cannot ignore how China has had an impact on its operations. China is offering an attractive alternative, and the World Bank has felt the effects of increased competition. It has explained issues where the World Bank finds it is working at crosspurposes with China and how the World Bank has been hesitant to confront China head-on. Yet the paper has also indicated that there are factors to suggest that China has taken at least some small steps to reform itself to be more in line with other donors. But much still remains to be seen. This paper was limited both geographically and in regard to time. With China’s engagement only increasing in prominence within the past decade or so, it would be wise to examine these trends a few years down the line. This added time might very well give the World Bank a longer period during which to evaluate the effectiveness of its reactions to Chinese competition, so it can create a more structured strategy. It would also be interesting for further research to examine whether the aforementioned patterns hold for other regions of the world. In particular, China’s relationship with Iran could provide a particularly interesting case study. The example of Iran demonstrates that, with its economic and security concerns at odds and under immense pressure from the West, China has sought to strike a balance, while at the same time moving slightly more in line with the West. Caught between its energy reliance on Iran – its third largest oil supplier – and its often-stated, public commitment to nuclear nonproliferation,134 China has been seen dragging its feet, yet voted for four rounds of limited135 – or what some have called “watered-down”136 – sanctions. Experts in the field of Sino-Iranian relations have been quoted as saying that China is behaving cautiously in its bilateral ties, disengaging further from Iran in recent years.137 The case of Iran may substantiate indications that China is susceptible to Western pressure and does take note of international norms, not only in Latin America and Africa, but around the world. If predictions by several World Bank staff members are to be believed,138 China will eventually mirror the other traditional donors, as it gains experience and becomes more “comfortable” being a donor. According to one development official’s projections, as a donor, China will end up being a lot like Japan. By this he means that China, like Japan (at least in the way he has characterized it), will use aid to improve the situation in other countries, so that it will have an easier time gaining access to markets for its goods and investor opportunities. In fact, one development official has forecasted that as China becomes wealthier, it will become increasingly difficult for it to “play the poverty card.” China will no longer be seen as one of the developing countries, but rather another developed country looking to exploit them. This will force it to live up -40-
to a higher standard, like that propagated by the wealthy countries and Western development organizations, including the World Bank. China’s rise as a world power – and the perceptions and responsibilities that this entails – may ultimately push it along the trajectory from its current status as an openly self-interested commercial partner to a future ostensibly altruistic foreign donor, like the rest of the donor community. 1
Tony Blaire, Presented at the 4th High Level Forum on Aid Effectiveness, Busan, South Korea, November 29, 2011. 2 “South-South Learning,” Task Team on South-South Cooperation, accessed November 29, 2011. 3 “About South-South Cooperation and Knowledge Exchange,” The South-South Opportunity, accessed November 29, 2010. 4 “World Economic Outlook 2010,” International Monetary Fund Data Mapper, accessed November 12, 2011. 5 “China Overview,” World Bank, accessed November 12, 2011. 6 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 70. 7 Loren Brandt and Thomas Rawski, eds., China’s Great Economic Transformation (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 1. 8 “China overtakes the US to become world’s largest energy consumer,” International Energy Agency, last updated July 20, 2010. 9 “China and Energy,” World Bank, accessed November 12, 2011. 10 Aaron Friedberg, “‘Going Out’: China’s Pursuit of Natural Resources and Implications for the PRC’s Grand Strategy,” National Bureau of Asian Research Analysis 17:3 (Summer 2004): 21-22. 11 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 79. 12 Susan Shirk. China: Fragile Superpower (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 23. 13 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 79. 14 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 111. 15 Information Office of the State Council, “China’s Foreign Aid,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, April 2011). 16 Information Office of the State Council, “Eight Principles of Economic Aid and Technical Assistance to Other Countries,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, January 1964). 17 Information Office of the State Council, “China’s Foreign Aid,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, April 2011) 18 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 83. 19 “Comparing Global Influence: China’s and US Diplomacy, Foreign Aid, Trade, and Investment in the Developing World,” Congressional Research Service Report for Congress, RL 34620, (August 15, 2008): 133. 20 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 111-112. 21
“Comparing Global Influence: China’s and US Diplomacy, Foreign Aid, Trade, and Investment in the Developing World,” Congressional Research Service Report for Congress, RL 34620, (August 15, 2008): 133. 22
“Indicators: ODA,” World Bank, accessed on November 12, 2011. Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 111-112. 23
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Information Office of the State Council, “China’s Foreign Aid,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, April 2011) 25 Ibid. 26 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 111. 27 Jennifer Cooke, et al., Chinese Soft Power and Its Implications for the US. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2009), 5. 28 Ibid. 29 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 114. 30
Jennifer Cooke, et al., Chinese Soft Power and Its Implications for the US. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2009), 4. 31
Joshua Eisenman, Eric Heginbotham, and Derek Mitchell, eds., China and the Developing World (Sharpe 2007), 44. 32 David Michael Lampton, The Three Faces of Chinese Power, (University of California Press, 2008), 91. 33 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 109. 34 Joseph S. Nye, Jr., Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics, (New York: Public Affairs, 2004). 35 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 118-119. 36 ibid. 37 Evan Medeiros, China’s International Behavior: Activism, Opportunism, and Diversification, (Arlington: RAND Project Air Force, 2009), 148. 38 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 121. 39 Marcus Power and Giles Mohan, “Good Friends & Good Partners: The ‘New’ Face of China-African Cooperation,” Review of African Political Economy 35: 115 (2008): 1. 40 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 298. 41 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009). 42 C. Fred Bergsten, Charles Freeman, Nicholas Lardy and Derek Mitchell, China’s Rise: Challenges and Opportunities, (Washington, D.C.: Peterson Institute for International Economics / Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 2008), 20. 43 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 100. 44 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 102. 45 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 125. 46 Ibid. 47 “About Us,” World Bank, accessed November 22, 2011. 48 Ibid. 49 Jessica Einhorn, “The World Bank’s Mission Creep,” Foreign Affairs, (September/October 2001). 50
Ngaire Woods, The Globalizers: The IMF, the World Bank and their Borrowers, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006), 44.
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Diana Cammack, “China and the politics of development in Africa,” Overseas Development Institute, November 2006. 52 Carlos Santiso, “Good Governance and Aid Effectiveness: The World Bank and Conditionality,” The Georgetown Public Policy Review. 7:1 (Fall 2001): 3-4. 53 Sebastian Mallaby, The World’s Banker, (New York: Penguin Press, 2004), 176. 54 Daniel Kaufmann, Aart Kraay and Pablo Zoido-Lobatón, “Governance Matters” World Bank Institute Policy Research Working Paper, October 1999. 55 Carlos Santiso, “Good Governance and Aid Effectiveness: The World Bank and Conditionality,” The Georgetown Public Policy Review. 7:1 (Fall 2001): 3. 56 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 105. 57 Ngaire Woods, The Globalizers: The IMF, the World Bank and their Borrowers, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006), 65. 58 “World Bank Annual Report 2011,” World Bank, accessed November 22, 2011. 59 Sebastian Mallaby, The World’s Banker, (New York: Penguin Press, 2004), 176. 60 Ngaire Woods, The Globalizers: The IMF, the World Bank and their Borrowers, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006), 70. 61 Discussion with the author. 62 “Comparing Global Influence: China’s and US Diplomacy, Foreign Aid, Trade, and Investment in the Developing World,” Congressional Research Service Report for Congress, RL 34620, (August 15, 2008): 33. 63 Sarah Raine, China’s African Challenges (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2009), 201. 64 “Comparing Global Influence: China’s and US Diplomacy, Foreign Aid, Trade, and Investment in the Developing World,” Congressional Research Service Report for Congress, RL 34620, (August 15, 2008): 114. 65 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 123. 66 C. Fred Bergsten, Charles Freeman, Nicholas Lardy and Derek Mitchell, China’s Rise: Challenges and Opportunities, (Washington, D.C.: Peterson Institute for International Economics / Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 2008), 21. 67 Ibid, 20. 68 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, “China’s African Policy,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, January 2006). 69 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 70. 70
African Center for Economic Transformation, Looking East: A Policy Brief on Engaging China for African Policy-Makers, Vol. 1: Positive Impacts and Key Challenges, (Accra, Ghana: African Center for Economic Transformation, 2009), 15. 71
Bates Gill and James Reilly, “The Tenuous Hold of China Inc. in Africa,” Washington Quarterly, 30:3 (Summer 2007), 46. 72 “Equator Principles,” The Equator Principles Association, accessed December 3, 2011. 73 Robert Zoellick, “Media Conference,” (presented at the World Bank Office in Beijing, China, September 5, 2011). 74 Deborah Brautigam, The Dragon’s Gift: The Real Story of China in Africa (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2009), 303. 75 “China Eximbank and World Bank Come Together to Sign Cooperation Memo,” World Bank, Press Release, last modified May 21, 2007. 76 “Interview with Paul Wolfowitz on China in Africa,” Les Echos (Paris), October 23, 2006. -43-
77
Jian-Ye Wang, “What Drives China’s Growing Role in Africa?,” IMF Working Paper WP/07/211, (August 2007), 21. 78 Discussion with the author. 79 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 84. 80 Deborah Brautigam, “China in Africa: The Real Story,” accessed December 4, 2011. 81
Li Anshan, “China and Africa: Policy and Challenges,” China Security 3:3 (Summer 2007): 81.
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Kenneth King, “Aid within the Wider China-Africa Partnership: A View from the Beijing Summit,” University of Hong Kong & University of Edinburgh (2006): 9. 83 Deborah Brautigam, “China in Africa: The Real Story,” accessed December 4, 2011. 84 R. Evan Ellis, “Chinese Soft Power in Latin America: A Case Study,” JFQ 60 (January 2011): 91. 85 Harry G. Broadman, Africa’s Silk Road: China and India’s New Economic Frontier, (Washington, D.C.: The World Bank, 2007), 220, 253. 86 Wang Xiaotian, “China to hike SEZ spending in Africa,” China Daily, September 15, 2010, accessed November 29, 2011. 87 R. Evan Ellis, “Chinese Soft Power in Latin America: A Case Study,” JFQ 60 (January 2011): 91. 88 African Center for Economic Transformation, Looking East: A Policy Brief on Engaging China for African PolicyMakers, Vol. 1: Positive Impacts and Key Challenges, (Accra, Ghana: African Center for Economic Transformation, 2009), 15. 89 Deborah Brautigam and Adam Gaye, “Is Chinese Investment Good for Africa?,” Council on Foreign Relations, last modified February 20, 2007. 90 C. Fred Bergsten, Charles Freeman, Nicholas Lardy and Derek Mitchell, China’s Rise: Challenges and Opportunities, (Washington, D.C.: Peterson Institute for International Economics / Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 2008), 215. 91 Information Office of the State Council, “China’s Policy Paper on Latin America and the Caribbean,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, November 2008). 92 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 123. 93 African Center for Economic Transformation, Looking East: A Policy Brief on Engaging China for African PolicyMakers, Vol. 1: Positive Impacts and Key Challenges, (Accra, Ghana: African Center for Economic Transformation, 2009), 15. 94
Ian Taylor, China and Africa: Engagement and Compromise (Routledge, 2006), 125.
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Information Office of the State Council, “China’s Policy Paper on Latin America and the Caribbean,” (Beijing: The People’s Republic of China, November 2008). 96 World Bank Institute, “Chinese and African Health Officials Discuss Knowledge Exchange and Cooperation,” accessed February 9, 2012. 97 “China-Africa Knowledge Exchange Workshop in Uganda,” World Bank, World Bank Institute in Action, last modified February 18, 2010. 98 Marcus Power and Giles Mohan, “Good Friends & Good Partners: The ‘New’ Face of China-African Cooperation,” Review of African Political Economy 35: 115 (2008): 1. 99 International Crisis Group, “China’s Thirst for Oil,” Asia Report 153 (June 9, 2008), 12. 100
Ian Taylor, China’s New Role in Africa, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2009.
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David Michael Lampton, The Three Faces of Chinese Power, (University of California Press, 2008), 91. Firoze Manji and Stephen Marks, eds., African Perspectives on China in Africa. (Cape Town, South Africa: Fahamu, 2007), 48. 103 Discussion with the author. 104 International Crisis Group, “China’s Thirst for Oil,” Asia Report 153 (June 9, 2008), i. 102
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Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 298. 106 Ian Taylor, China’s New Role in Africa (Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2009), 129. 107
Ian Taylor, China and Africa: Engagement and Compromise (Routledge, 2006), 124.
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Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 298. 109 Discussion with the author. 110 Discussion with the author. 111 “Triangular Cooperation: Opportunities, risks, and conditions for effectiveness,” World Bank Institute, accessed November 5, 2011. 112 Discussion with the author. 113 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 102. 114 Xiaoming Huang, The Institutional Dynamics of China’s Great Transformation, New York: Routledge, 2011, 25-28. 115 “The World Factbook,” Central Intelligence Agency, accessed December 3, 2011. 116 Stephen Olson and Clyde Prestowitz, “The Evolving Role of China in International Institutions,” The Economic Strategy Institute, Prepared for The U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission, January 2011. 117 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 102. 118 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 122-123. 119 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 102. 120 Ibid, 104. 121 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 125. 122 Stefan Stahle. “China’s Shifting Attitude towards UN Peacekeeping Operations,” The China Quarterly 195 (September 2008), 631. 123 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 125. 124 Robert Sutter, Chinese Foreign Relations: Power and Policy Since The Cold War (Rowman and Littlefield, 2009), 119. 125 International Crisis Group, “China’s Thirst for Oil,” Asia Report 153 (June 9, 2008), i-ii. 126 Bates Gill and Chin-Hao Huang, “China’s Expanding Role in Peacekeeping,” Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, SIPRI Policy Paper 25, November 2009. 127 Derek Mitchell, “China and the Developing World,” The China Balance Sheet in 2007 and Beyond. (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2007), 125. 128 Bates Gill and Chin-Hao Huang, “China’s Expanding Role in Peacekeeping,” Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, SIPRI Policy Paper 25, November 2009. 129 BBC News, “Chinese workers freed in Sudan, flown to Kenya,” BBC, February 7, 2011. 130 International Crisis Group, “China’s Thirst for Oil,” Asia Report 153 (June 9, 2008), 21-22. 131
Bernt Berger and Uwe Wissenbach, EU-China-Africa Trilateral Development: Common Challenges and New Directions (Bonn, Germany: Deutsches Institut für Entwicklungspolitik, 2007), 14.
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132
Catrinus J. Jepma, “The Tying of Aid,” Development Centre of the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development, 1991. 133 Discussion with the author. 134 Peter Ford, “Iran’s nuclear program: Will oil ties prevent China from backing tough Iran sanctions?,” The Christian Science Monitor, November 9, 2011. 135 Ibid. 136 Tony Karon, “What Did China Get for Backing Iran Sanctions?,” Time Magazine, May 26, 2010. 137 Peter Ford, “Iran’s nuclear program: Will oil ties prevent China from backing tough Iran sanctions?,” The Christian Science Monitor, November 9, 2011. 138 Discussion with the author.
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Why the Dragon Dons a Blue Beret: Do Commercial Interests Affect China’s Participation in United Nations Peacekeeping Missions? Rohan Patnaik, Georgetown University In the 1980s, following a many years of anti-interventionism, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) first began to involve itself in United Nations Peacekeeping Operations (UNPKOs).1 Prior to this period, Beijing had vehemently renounced such operations as “tools of US and Soviet imperialism that violated the international norm of Westphalian sovereignty.”2 Since then, this stance has changed. Staunch opposition has faded away and China, rather than being an impediment to UNPKOs, has overwhelmingly chosen to join them. The number of Chinese troops involved in UNPKOs has climbed significantly, increasing from a mere 98 troops at the beginning of the century to over 2000 by the end of 2010, and China has, at times, stepped outside its customary position of “bandwagoning” to become an advocate of UN intervention.3 Not only has China become deliberately supportive of traditional peacekeeping, it has become comfortable with Chapter VII interventions, “in which the use of ‘all necessary means’ is authorized.”4 China’s growing commitment to peacekeeping became further exemplified by the opening of two role-specific training centers: the China Peacekeeping CIVPOL (Civilian Police) Training Center in Lanfang City and the Ministry of National Defense (MND) Peacekeeping Center in Beijing.5 These specialized academies indicate the essential role peacekeeping now plays within the Chinese military; for the first time, peacekeeping is seen as an appropriate measure. However, Chinese cooperation with a UNPKO is often considered on a “case-by-case basis” and few scholars have been able to determine a concrete template for why China intervenes.6 A country with an unpromising record of adhering to international norms of human rights, Chinese peacekeeping contributions must be confronted with some skepticism. Chinese participation in UN peacekeeping has been, at times, awkward due to its customary support for the same actors that UN peacekeeping restrains. For instance, Chinese peacekeeping involvement in the Sudan, despite its relentless support for Sudan’s al-Bashir, and its involvement in the DRC, despite its close ties to President Joseph Kabila, should be scrutinized. The fact remains, that in both cases, the leaders, with Chinese support, remained opposed to UN intervention. However, in both cases, when the UN’s persistence prevailed, China, despite its original opposition, contributed a significant portion of the UN peacekeeping contingent.7 This presents us with the following puzzle: why do countries contribute to certain UN peacekeeping operations and not contribute to others? In particular, this paper asks, “do commercial interests affect China’s participation in UN peacekeeping missions?” Using Chinese UNPKO contributions from 2001-2010 as my dependent variable, this paper analyzes the possibility that China’s peacekeeping-rhetoric is a veil under which it pursues more selfish commercial goals. -47-
Through a mixed method study utilizing both quantitative and qualitative analysis, I argue that China does not send peacekeepers to ‘protect’ its commercial interests from political instability but instead sees peacekeeping as a way by which it can gain access to extractive resources. Such incentives include the presence of mineral and oil resources, which include the likelihood of Chinese involvement. Given China’s prioritization of providing logistical support — heavily slanted towards engineers — over combat-ready troops, Chinese engineers are able to gain knowledge of the local terrain, surveying the land and finding opportunities for investment.8 Therefore, the existence of resource-related commercial interests significantly affects the likelihood that China will deploy peacekeepers. Although resource wealth remains significant, I find that there is no statistically significant correlation between greater or lesser import and export values. In this paper, I will first discuss my argument, briefly explaining my reasoning behind why I believe the resource potential of a country increases the chance that China will contribute to a UNPKO in that country. Second, I will explore the prevailing explanations as to why China contributes peacekeepers to UNPKOs, carefully noting my motivations for doing so. While studies exist, the literature is nevertheless, thin, and lacking in empirical analysis. Third, I will describe the data and methodology behind the coding. Fourth, I will discuss the empirical findings in light of the three independent variables: resource-prevalence and commercial interests in terms of imports and exports. I argue that pure commercial interests, as measured through import and export values, do not impact Chinese troop contributions whereas resource-related interests do. Fifth, I will conduct a case study of MONUC (United Nations Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo) to trace Chinese regional deployments within the country. Using this complementary study, I will argue that not only are Chinese peacekeepers more likely to deploy within countries with large resource capital, they are likely to locate their troops within resource-rich regions of these same countries. Lastly, I will conclude with broader policy implications established by this paper, arguing that more oversight and more transparency are integral to maintaining UN peacekeeping contingents with purely wellintentioned goals.
Argument When analyzing the extent to which Chinese commercial interests influenced its UNPKO contributions, some context is needed. Of much interest to this study is the fact that this newly invigorated interest in contributing to UN peacekeeping operations roughly coincides with China’s 2002 “Going Out” policy, coined after its emphasis on increased outward investment. While Chinese total FDI was valued at $36 billion in 2002, total Chinese FDI, as measured until June 2011 is now said to surpass $376 billion.9 As China continues developing at exceedingly high rates, the world’s most populous country remains desperate for energy and minerals necessary fuel its growth; therefore, a majority of this investment has been in the mining and energy sectors. Correlated to this rise in FDI is China’s increased participation in UN peacekeeping missions. In 2002, the number of Chinese participants in peacekeeping missions worldwide numbered around 140, slightly up from the 120 participants it had sent the previous year. However, following the integration of “Going Out” into Chinese foreign policy, UN peacekeeping contributions increased. In 2003, the number of Chinese troops hovered around 330 and by the end of 2004, China’s contributions had risen sharply to 1036 total personnel. Therefore, the possibility remains that expansion in Chinese peacekeeping contributions are deliberate parts of Chinese “Going Out” investment policy. Given this context, my question – “do commercial interests affect China’s participation in UN peacekeeping missions?” – lends itself to two hypotheses:10 -48-
1. Commercial Hypothesis: China is more likely to contribute personnel to UNPKOs situated in countries with which it has greater trade so as to maintain stability and protect its commercial interests. As China has a greater interest in preserving the stability of countries with which it has greater trade, an empirical finding should show that Chinese troops go to those countries with either higher export or import values. The finding should also indicate an increase in Chinese UN peacekeeping personnel contributions if that country has a higher trade value. A positive finding correlated to Chinese exports will suggest that China values stability in its export markets while a positive finding correlated to Chinese imports will suggest that China values stability in its import markets. 2. Resource Hypothesis: China is more likely to contribute personnel to UNPKOs situated in resource-rich countries than those situated in resource-poor countries because it intends to gain mineral rights. An empirical finding must be found to show that China is more likely to contribute troops to a UNPKO if the target country is deemed to be resource-rich. Although the motivations for doing so may be obscure, an increased likelihood to deploy to resource-rich countries suggests China’s increased valuation of resource-rich countries so as to gain access to the present minerals. Through a quantitative analysis of Chinese deployments correlated with Chinese imports, Chinese exports, and the resource-wealth of a target country, I find that the Resource Hypothesis holds: China is more likely to contribute troops to resource-rich countries. Furthermore, a qualitative analysis of the Democratic Republic of Congo infers that Chinese contingents, heavily composed of engineers, have located themselves in resource-rich regions of the country. Following the end of a conflict, when international investors remain shy, this paper suggests that China has an advantage in finding investment opportunities in the same regions where its engineers had been. Although the line between claim and speculation may be crossed, I infer that Chinese engineers preempt Chinese mining investments by provide the appropriate topographical and feasibility analyses. Whereas the Resource Hypothesis holds, I do not, however, find any correlation between Chinese trade values — import and export values — and Chinese deployments. Therefore, I argue that China is more likely to participate in UNPKOs situated in countries with resource potential. These countries need not be countries of ongoing Chinese extractive operations but only need to have the potential. This is supported by the inconclusive results of the Commercial Hypothesis, suggesting that China’s strict monetary trade maintenance does not necessarily play a part in China’s decision making.11
Alternative Explanations Existing literature fails to adequately address why China contributes peacekeepers to some missions as opposed to others. And although the broader studies on peacekeeping thoroughly analyze two aspects — where are UN peacekeeping operations more likely to be implemented? and why countries contribute to UN peacekeeping operations? —, they fail to analyze the case-by-case tendencies of countries. With regards to the first already-examined question, many studies find that the UNPKOs often deploy in scenarios that — at least partially — serve the national interests of a member of the Security Council.12 As for the second question — why countries contribute to UN peacekeeping operations at all? —, the findings are varied and general. Some argue that “states whose interests were better served by the continuation of the status quo” are more likely to dominate peacekeeping -49-
contributions13 while others have taken a more forgiving approach, arguing that states that commit UN peacekeepers are guided by a drive to promote democracy in conflict-ridden states.14 Some even argue that humanitarian impulses prevail and states contribute to UNPKOs primarily for altruistic reasons.15 Lastly, the recent increased involvement by aid-receiving countries in UNPKOs — such as Bangladesh and Pakistan — has been attributed to the financial incentives such countries receive.16 Whatever the truth may be, these findings do not delve into UNPKO contributions to specific missions. Foremost, where the literature remains thin is in asking the subsequent question: Why do some countries contribute to certain missions over others? The following study attempts to partially answer this question, focusing, in particular, on the motivations for Chinese contributions. With the advent of an altruistic China has come much criticism and academic scholarship. While many have continued to note — in wonder — the growing capacity of Chinese peacekeeping troops, few have been able to decipher Chinese incentives to engage in these missions. Current academic scholarship remains limited and centers around three theories. The primary theory revolves around the idea that China’s role in UNPKO contributions is a result of its new belief that its international legitimacy has been compromised and must be regained.17 This theory contends that China’s primary motivation to engage in such altruistic behavior comes as a response to the reputation problem it has encountered in the global arena. A primary advocate of this view is the International Crisis Group which has attributed China’s newfound interest in peacekeeping to a selfish incentive of cultivating “its image as a ‘responsible great power.’”18 The ICG argues that “participation in peacekeeping serves these ends as a relatively low-cost way of demonstrating commitment to the UN and to international peace and security. It has also served to counter fears of China’s growing power.” Similar claims are made by Gill and Huang who argue that China’s UN involvement should be seen as assurances within the context of Chinese economic aggression.19 The second theory contends that it is not for the eyes of an international community that China engages in peacekeeping, but for the eyes of the local population of the country into which it deploys. In Cambodia for instance, Hirono finds that China’s deployment of peacekeepers “was successful in transforming negative local perceptions of China’s past into more positive ones.”20 Lastly, those with relatively forgiving views of Chinese peacekeeping missions argue that China’s motives to engage in UN peacekeeping missions are purely altruistic in nature. Many of these views tend to come from within the Chinese government and military. As put by Major General Zhang Qinsheng, the Deputy Chief of General Staff for China’s People’s Liberation Army, “China is a peace-loving country . . . Peacekeeping is our mission, and it is also our fundamental principle.”21 These theories, although factual, are not supported by empirical evidence, and therefore, remain ideological and opinionated. I argue that China is primarily a realist actor seeking to further its commercial incentives through UN peacekeeping participation. Although Chinese involvement in peacekeeping operations may, indeed, be partially influenced by a desire to enhance its international reputation, I argue that China’s desire for cheap resources plays an exceedingly important role. This paper does not directly test for contending theories that suggest Chinese goodwill for selfish or selfless reasons; although some truth may be attributed to them, they cannot be empirically proven. Had the null hypothesis — wherein both Commercial and Resource hypotheses are found not to hold — triumphed, it would suggest that my inclinations had been incorrect and that commercial resource-related incentives do not play a part. However, the Resource hypothesis does hold, suggesting some realist incentive. Testing for both hypotheses, I find that China is more likely to deploy peacekeeping personnel to resource-rich countries. Not only -50-
does it deploy to such countries, I find that Chinese troops are often found in the resource-rich areas of these same countries.
Data To test my hypotheses, I utilized annual UNPKO mission deployment data from November 2001 to November 2010. This data is found in the United Nations’ Peacekeeping public publications and identifies the number of troops each country contributes to each mission. The decade long period is a useful period of measurement because it coincides with the introduction of China’s official “Going Out” policy. To check my robustness, I create three measures of the same dependent variable, Chinese UNPKO contributions: 1. binarydepl: This variable is a binary notation that codes the deployment of any Chinese personnel to a UNPKO as (1) and no Chinese personnel as (0). Of the 182 mission years between November 2001 and November 2010, China contributed 102 times. 2. chintroops: This explanatory variable identifies the total number of Chinese troops within a mission and is measured annually using the annual November deployment data. 3. pctmission: This explanatory variable identifies the percentage of a mission China contributes each year to a particular mission. I then correlate the independent variables — import values, export values, and the presence of resources — using the three variables: resources, chinimp, and chinexp. I first create a binary variable called resources, which measures whether a country is resourcerich or resource-poor. I use Wantchekon’s 2002 dataset on resource-dependent countries that measures the sum of oil and mineral exports as a percentage of a country’s total exports.22 Wantchekon’s measure seems more appropriate for this study than the 2001 Sachs and Warner data on resource dependence because it excludes agricultural products. While the Sachs and Warner sample measures the ratio of primary exports to GDP, the Wantchekon’s data measures only oil and mineral exports as a percentage of a country’s total exports. I use this dataset to code resource-rich countries as such: if a country’s sum of oil and mineral exports composes over 15% of the country’s total exports, I indicate that the said country is resource-rich, resources = (1). If this value falls below 15%, I code that country to be (0). But using this dataset alone remains inadequate. Because Wantchekon examines civil wars in the 1990s, a few countries go unmentioned. It is for this reason that I complement Wantchekon’s list with a Global Mining report from the World Bank that identifies the world’s most mining dependent countries.23 Using this report, I again identify those countries wherein the sum of oil and mineral exports compose over 15% of their GDPs and code them as (1). The Global Mining Report adds the following countries to the list: Liberia and Sierra Leone.24 Using both measures, I code countries that appear on either lists to be resource-rich. I then create a variable called chinimp that measures the value of Chinese imports from the target country — a country wherein there is a UNPKO — in a given year. This value comes from the International Trade Centre, a joint agency of the World Trade Organization and the United Nations. It provides an adequate breakdown of all recorded import/export transactions between China and those peace-kept countries. Likewise, chinexp measures the China’s exports to a target country in a given year. -51-
Methods & Results This paper finds that the Resource Hypothesis holds while the Commercial Hypothesis does not.
I first use a logistic regression to measure the probability that China will choose to contribute to a UN PKO if the associated country has resources or a high trade balance. I present those results in Table 1. I also use an ordinary least squares (OLS) regression to measure the relationship between the independent variables — resources, chinimp, and chinexp — and the two explanatory measures of the dependent variable, chintroops and pctmission. I present those results in Tables 2, 3, 4, and 5. To check for robustness, I use all three measures of the dependent variable and correlate them with the three independent variables. These methods have two findings: 1. Commercial Hypothesis: Empirical analysis on the extent to which Chinese imports and exports affect China’s peacekeeping contingents is inconclusive. Although some tests find a slight increase in Chinese troops given an increase in Chinese imports, the values are not statistically significant. Therefore, my findings do not suggest that Chinese participation increases with higher values of trade. 2. Resource Hypothesis: China is more likely to contribute to a resource-rich country than one that is resource-poor. Moreover, China is more likely to provide more troops to missions based in resource-rich countries than missions in resource-poor countries. While my logistic regression shows that China is just as likely to contribute to a mission in an import-heavy or export-heavy country as to any other mission, my OLS models suggest that there may be a slight increase in the likelihood that China will contribute to a UN PKO in a country from which it has higher imports.25 However, because this value is incredibly trivial, and because of this finding’s lack of robustness, I maintain that China’s import and export relationships do not affect its decision to contribute to a certain UN PKO. As for the Resource hypothesis, the findings are significant. As my logistic regression shows, China is thirteen times more likely to contribute to a UN PKO situated in a resource-rich country than to one that is not.26 Furthermore, the OLS models find statistically significant findings with regards to the two explanatory dependent variables.27 While the average Chinese personnel contribution is 69, the number increases significantly in resource-rich countries.28 The estimates in Table 2, Model 1 show that China sends is more likely to send 132 more personnel to a resourcerich country than one that is not. Similarly, while the average Chinese contribution to a peacekeeping mission from 2001-2010 has been 1.3%, China contributes between 2.8 and 3.3% of a mission situated in a resource-rich country.29 These statistically significant findings are incredibly robust, supported by p values of less than .001. Subsequently, I find that import and export relationships do not affect China’s decision to contribute to a certain UN PKO while the existence of resources does affect its decision. China is not only more likely to participate in a resource-affiliated UNPKO, it is also contributes significantly more personnel. The following case study on the Democratic Republic of Congo furthers this claim by suggesting that Chinese troops are more likely to operate in resource-rich regions of resource-rich countries.
Case Study -52-
In order to reasonably claim that Chinese peacekeepers are more likely to go to resource-rich countries to gain access to resources, this paper looks into Chinese deployment patterns in the Democratic Republic of Congo under the mandate of MONUC (United Nations Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo).30 This case study supports the inference that China’s affinity for resource-rich countries stems from its desire for mineral rights. In the following study, I find that there is an increase in Chinese mining exploration following the transfer of Chinese engineers to the Eastern Kivu region of the DRC. Essential to this analysis is that China does not provide a single battalion of combat-ready personnel to MONUC; subsequently, a claim that China sends peacekeepers worldwide to ‘protect’ its resource-related commercial interests does not hold. In fact, Chinese peacekeepers worldwide operate solely in a logistics capacity. Given China’s proven affinity for both resource-rich countries and logistics-related engineering UNPKO contributions, a further analysis is needed to investigate the correlation.
China & The Democratic Republic of Congo The Democratic Republic of Congo (the DRC), arguably the world’s most mineral-rich nation, has for over a century faced dictatorship, turmoil, and exploitation.31 A country of eleven provinces and 250 ethnic groups, the DRC has been characterized by anarchy, with rebel groups roaming the country freely, much to the dismay of the world’s largest UN PKO, MONUC. Given this context, foreign investment remains low; and those who do invest, focus, in particular, on the mining sector. China’s interest in the DRC is relatively new — albeit significant. Although most nations have written off the DRC as a decentralized and anarchic country, China has taken a keen interest. While China’s imports from the DRC amounted to at a mere US$1 million in 2000, that value grew to over US$2.5 billion in 2010, comprising nearly half of DRC exports and making China the DRC’s largest trade partner.32 Half of this value comes from copper exports; the other half is composed of various metal ores. A majority of the DRC’s mines are located in the three southeastern provinces: the relatively stable and mineral-rich province of Katanga and increasingly, the conflict-ridden provinces, North and South Kivu. Although Katanga has customarily been the DRC’s center of international mining investment, interest in the Eastern Kivus is growing, a push overwhelmingly led by Chinese companies.33 This interest comes about a year after the installation of a Chinese engineering and medical contingent in Bukavu, on the North-South Kivu border. In 2002, there were only 10 Chinese peacekeepers in MONUC. It was around this time that China’s “Going Out” policy was announced. In 2003, as the UN announced its intent to enlarge MONUC, Chinese interest increased and it began sending more personnel to the DRC. Little is known about where these peacekeepers first arrived. What is known is that in 2009, a contingent of Chinese peacekeepers — composed of 175 military engineers and 43 medics — was sent to Bukavu and has remained there since.34 The Kivu engineering and medic contingent, therefore, remains China’s only deployment area in the DRC. I argue that this move was largely for resource-related commercial means. Following this deployment, I find a notable change in investment patterns in the region. Although mining contracts within the DRC are customarily private, some studies have shown an increase in Chinese mining speculation one year after the Chinese engineers arrived in Bukavu.35 Much of this has been encouraged through a joint partnership between the Kabila regime and Chinese officials. The partnership — an $8 billion minerals-for-infrastructure deal struck in -53-
2007 — has been poorly received in the international community as exploitative and biased towards Chinese interests. The 2007 deal allowed for the transfer of over ten million tons of cobalt, copper, and other metal ores to China; in return, China promised to finance various infrastructure projects across the country including roads, hospitals, dams, and mines — a substantial part of the investment went to the East. As China is unable to ‘protect’ its own interests, I argue that Chinese peacekeepers operate as field engineers for Chinese mining companies. Surveying the land and gaining appropriate topographical information, I find that Chinese companies have rushed to the forefront of mining exploration in North and South Kivu. As of April 2011, of the 31 mineral trading companies operating in North Kivu, only three were Chinese owned — Donson International, T.T.T Mining and Huaying. However, the Pole Institute finds that among the 21 expatriate companies attempting to purchase mining rights in North Kivu in late 2010, “10 [were] Chinese, 4 Indian, 3 Lebanese, 3 Russian and 1 French.”36 Moreover, the areas of South Kivu in which Chinese engineers operate have seen an increase in Chinese mining investment. In particular, following the Chinese engineering contingent’s yearlong involvement in rehabilitating the Uvira-Baraka road in late 2010 to early 2011, China Gold International, a Chinese state-owned enterprise, signed a Memorandum of Understanding with Banro Corporation in April 2011 to jointly develop Banro’s Twangiza mining property.37 The UviraBaraka road, essential to mining development in the region, was built within three kilometers of the Twangiza property, suggesting that Chinese engineers had ample time to survey the area.38 Given that Banro Corporation has four sizable plots of land in South Kivu, and given that the state-owned enterprise, China Gold, chose to solely fund the development of the Twangiza property – an area with which Chinese engineers already had ample familiarity –, there remains a possibility that Chinese UN engineers played a role in this decision.39 Although a claim cannot be credibly made without knowledge of the day-to-day activities of Chinese UN engineers, the strange correlation between recent transfer of Chinese personnel to the region and the subsequent rise in Chinese mineral exploration companies is nevertheless, alarming. Therefore, I infer that Chinese UN engineering companies may, indeed, help Chinese mining companies acquire mining rights in the Democratic Republic of Congo by conducting the necessary feasibility studies. Having secured appropriate rights in Katanga, Chinese companies seem to have an advantage when exploring options in the Eastern Kivus, where other investors struggle to find opportunities. Chinese investment patterns correlate closely with the movement Chinese UN engineers and suggest greater knowledge of the Kivus than that of other international companies.
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Appendix A: MONUC Deployment Map (April 2010)40
Conclusions This paper, therefore, finds resource-wealth to be an effective indicator of whether China will contribute personnel to a UNPKO. As already mentioned, China is over thirteen times more likely to contribute to a UNPKO if that mission is situated in a resource-rich country. However, China is not likely to succumb to all commercial incentives, and I find no empirical evidence to suggest that increased trade, and therefore a higher commercial incentive, increases Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s likelihood to contribute in certain UNPKOs. Hence, this paper finds the following in response to my hypotheses: 1. Commercial Hypothesis: Inconclusive. There is no evidence to suggest that China is more likely to contribute troops to those countries with which it has greater trade so as to maintain stability and protect its interests. Although this may certainly be an incentive for some missions, my empirical evidence does not show a statistically significant correlation for Chinese import or export values. 2. Resource Hypothesis: True. China is more likely to contribute troops to resource-rich countries. Empirical evidence suggests that China is more likely to not only participate in resource-rich UNPKOs but also contribute more troops. However, this paper is unable to test for Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s intentions for doing so and merely infers that Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s affinity for resource-55-
rich countries is a product of its commercial desire for mineral rights. I infer that this strong likelihood of contributing to resource-rich countries is linked to an increase in mining exploration. Given this paper’s case study of MONUC in the DRC, further investigations are necessary to credibly ascertain the day-to-day activities of Chinese peacekeepers. Therefore, I show that resources play an significant role in the minds of Chinese policymakers tasked with UN peacekeeping decisions. China is thirteen times more likely to contribute troops to UNPKOs in resource-rich countries than those that are not. Given China’s lust for resources, this does not come as a surprise. The mentioned correlation between China’s increase in foreign direct investment and increased participation in United Nations peacekeeping operations further imply that the two may be linked foreign policy objectives for the Chinese government. Whatever the truth, this study furthers our understanding on China’s motives for engaging in UN peacekeeping. As mentioned before, many contradictions countering China’s role in UN peacekeeping exist. Therefore, the question, what are China’s motivations for engaging in UN peacekeeping?, deserves more attention. As for me, I answer: Resources.
Limitations & Policy Implications The limitations of this study are apparent in its limited scope. As my study focuses solely on Chinese UN peacekeeping contributions, it does not analyze the possible effects of commercial incentives on peacekeeping contributions from other countries. Therefore, my finding should not be taken as only a condemnation of Chinese UNPKO involvement but instead, as a basis from which to achieve greater insight as to the motivations of all UNPKO-contributing nations. Furthermore, this paper is limited with regards to accurately identifying China’s motives behind contributing personnel to resource-rich regions. Although the finding that China is thirteen times more likely to contribute to resource-rich countries is incredibly robust, this paper can only infer why it does so. While I hint that its incentives may be to identify feasible areas of mining exploration, the evidence is inadequate to credibly ascertain the truth. My only evidence is in the unusual increase in mining exploration after the transfer of 175 Chinese military engineers to the region.41 I do not, however, have access to day-to-day itineraries of these engineering contingents; nor am I privy to the various conversations that must have taken place when deciding where each country’s contingent is sent within a mission. The implications of this study follow from these limitations. Politically, there should be an inquiry into the day-to-day activities undertaken by UN peacekeepers worldwide. In particular, the following questions should be addressed: why does China prefer to operate in a logistical capacity, sending mostly engineers to some of the world’s most dangerous regions? And do these engineers deviate from their usual responsibilities to conduct feasibility studies for Chinese mineral companies? Is this trend, too, seen with peacekeeping contingents from other countries? Although I find China to be a “resource-incentivized” UNPKO contributor, many other countries may also act on similar incentives. Further research, therefore is required to explore whether other countries, as well, may be implicated in this finding. In particular, while conducting this study, I notice a correlation between resource-rich regions and where Indian peacekeepers locate send peacekeepers. Furthermore, I find that Indian peacekeepers are also located in resourcerich regions of resource-rich countries. In particular, this is found to be true in Sudan where Indian UN peacekeeping troops practically have a monopoly on the two oil-rich regions of Unity and Upper Nile. Moreover, India’s largest engineering contingent is found in the state of Upper Nile, -56-
where the Indo-Chinese oil company, Greater Nile Petroleum Operating Company, has most of its concessions.42 A further analysis into India’s resource incentives should be undertaken. The United States should push for greater transparency in the United Nations. While conducting this study, I find that archived UN deployment maps are unavailable. Those maps that are publicly available can only be accessed through a tedious method of trial-and-error, typing in different combinations of mission names at the back of the secure UN Cartographic section on its webpage. These maps should not only be made accessible to the public but also be archived properly so that deployment transfers can be easily traced. The UN DPKO (United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations) should also provide ample information as to how deployments are made. Currently, little is known as to how the UN chooses to send country-specific contingents to certain regions of a country. Therefore, I assert that there should be a push for further transparency into how the UN DPKO makes its decisions of where to send country-specific troops. Such transparency will allow for a more feasible study of potential deviations from the UN mandate in favor of country-specific interests. 1
The People’s Republic of China will hereafter be referred to as, simply, China. Griffith 2009: 1. 3 Holslag 2009: 30-31. 4 Hirono 2011: 244. 5 Hirono 2011: 244-245. 6 Lei 2011: 347. 7 International Crisis Group 2009. 8 Hirono 2011: 247. 9 Cheng 2007: 5, Heritage Foundation 2011. 10 Although a case can be made for a country’s increased likelihood to contribute to a peacekeeping mission that lies in its vicinity, I do not empirically test for this hypothesis due to a lack of ample data. Between the years of 2001 and 2010, six missions — in three countries — operated in the general vicinity of China: UNMOGIP in the disputed Indo-Pakistani region of Jammu and Kashmir, UNAMA in Afghanistan and UNTAET, UNMISET, UNOTIL, and UNMIT in Timor-Leste. Of these missions, China did not involve itself in UNMOGIP or UNAMA — likely due to political differences with India and the United States — but chose to involve itself with Timor-Leste, a newly resource-wealthy country. This sample is therefore too small to test. 11 See Table 2, Model 3. 12 de Jonge Oudraat 1996: 518-519, Jakobsen 1996, Gibbs 1997, Beardsley 2004, Mullenbach 2005. 13 Neack 1995: 181. 14 Andersson 2000, Marten 2004, Paris 2004. 15 Jakobsen 1996, Gilligan & Stedman 2003, Beardsley 2004. 16 Lebovic 2010. 17 Lei 2011: 346. 18 International Crisis Group 2009. 19 Gill, Bates, and Huang 2009. 20 Hirono 2011: 245. 21 Ling 2007: 2. 22 Watchekon 2002. As mentioned by Ross in his 2004 paper, “How Do Natural Resources Influence Civil War?,” most scholars treat a country’s resource dependence as an indicator of resource-wealth. Although this is a “less-than-ideal” indicator, it is a valid indicator of resource-wealth in underdeveloped economies. 2
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23
World Bank and International Finance Corporation: 2002. These two countries are also considered resource-rich in Ross’ 2004 paper, “How Do Natural Resources Influence Civil War?” 25 See Table 2. 26 Based on data analysis conducted by the author. See Table 1. 27 The two explanatory dependent variables are chinimp and pctmission. 28 See Table 2. 29 See Table 4 and 5. 30 MONUC now operates under the name, MONUSCO (United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo) 31 The DRC is said to hold over 70% of the world’s coltan (columbite-tantalite) and 30% of the world’s diamonds among many other resources including gold, cobalt, tantalum, and tin. 32 “Investment Map” International Trade Centre 11 Oct. 2011, 12 Oct. 2011 <http://www.investmentmap.org/index.aspx?prg=64 >. Bilateral trade data from 2010 details the total export value of DRC exports to China at $2,505,716,000 of which copper composes $1,253,666,000. The CIA World Factbook places this value at 46.9% of the DRC’s overall exports. From 2009 to 2010, the DRC’s exports to China more than doubled, increasing from $1,136,448,000 to $2,505,716,000. Of note, the exports of precious stones, metals, and coins increased from $3000 in 2008 to $32,000 in 2009 and finally, $8,965,000 in 2010. 33 The Pole Institute: 2011. 34 Xinhua English News: 2010. 35 The Pole Institute 2011, Holslag 2010. 36 The Pole Institute 2011: 12. 37 Banro Corporation 2011. 38 ISSSS 2011: 3. 39 Wardell Armstrong International 2007: 9-10. 40 United Nations 2010. 41 This inference is informed by interviews conducted in Gisinyi, Rwanda and Kabale, Uganda during the month of August 2011. Geologists from the Anglo-South African consortium Mining Processing Company (MPC), a company that operates in North Kivu, mention that Chinese UN military engineers do, indeed, aid Chinese mineral exploration companies. 42 APS Diplomat News Service 2005. 24
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Missing the Boat: Patriotic Hackers in Historical Context Timothy Peacock, Brown University Patriotic hackers are 21st Century privateers. Privateering provides an historic analogue to patriotic hacking in terms of actors, motivations, political consequences, and avenues for prohibition. Understanding the parallels offers encouragement that the United States and its allies can work to eliminate patriotic hacking. The three types of malicious cyber behavior that constitute most patriotic hacking are vandalism of websites, distributed denial of service (DDoS), and data exfiltration. In all three cases states allow their citizens to carry out activities that would otherwise be prosecuted by the state hosting the hacker because the host state believes the hacker provides a security or economic gain. In this paper we explore lessons learned from the prohibition of privateering, how patriotic hacking links to broader themes in political science, and what steps state, civil society, and industry can take to reduce or eliminate patriotic hacking today.
The Origins of Privateering International law defines privateers as "vessels belonging to private owners, and sailing under a commission of war empowering the person to whom it is granted to carry on all forms of hostility which are permissible at sea by the usages of war." This originated in the right of states to seek redress for damages incurred during war but shifted over time to allow private vessels to take part in war. By the time privateering was abolished, private ships with private crews participated in seizing enemy ships, goods, and sailors during wartime. The practice was so widespread that during the War of 1812 the United States employed 517 privateers while having only 23 ships in its navy. Privateering allowed states to expand their naval power during conflict and disrupt the commerce of the enemy without increased government spending. Rulers also enjoyed plausible deniability if privateers behaved wrongfully. Ship owners enjoyed privateering as a way to make large profits while regular commerce was interrupted. These motivations reappear when understanding the stateâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s relation to patriotic hackers. Letters of marque have murky origins in the Dark Ages of Europe, but by the 16th Century functioned as license to cruise as a privateer. Such was the importance of privateering in relation to war that article I of the US Constitution grants Congress the right to issue letters of marque immediately following the right to declare war1. States had an interest in keeping privateers regulated: ill behavior by privateers of one state could trigger ill behavior by privateers of the enemy state. Not all privateers carried letters of marque. Unlicensed privateers were quite commonâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the lack of letters of marque in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s patriotic hacking environment should not be seen as reason to sink the analogy between patriotic hackers and privateers. By the 16th Century privateering was a regular practice that was well established as a right of states. Constructed from the right of states to seek redress for damage, the practice of holding citizens liable for damage caused by compatriots, and the right of states to make war as they please -59-
(given a casus belli), privateering would remain a fixture of interstate affairs until the middle of the 19th Century.
Practice Privateers took part in all forms of naval hostility, but the primary interest of most privateers was capturing enemy vessels and cargos. Ships flying hostile flags were liable to be seized. If a privateer vessel caught an enemy ship, the privateers would board and inspect its cargo. Privateers could take what was valuable or what was a “war good”. In the early days of English privateering the crown took 50% of the value of the goods seized but eventually shifted to paying privateers for their actions. Today patriotic hackers are likely paid for their exploits, though direct evidence is not available. Privateering was seen as a legitimate and profitable enterprise: merchants entered the market for force and privateering corporations’ stocks traded on the New York exchange. The requirements were only a vessel and crew; today patriotic hackers only require their computers and technical skills. For skilled programmers patriotic hacking offers a new market for their skills. Given the increased risk of injury from privateering and piracy, privateers returned to regular commerce once the disruption of war was removed. Increasing the likelihood of being prosecuted for hacking would decrease the number of hackers entering the patriotic hacking market. Well developed legal protections existed to control privateers: ship owners could sue in prize courts to regain possession of their vessels if the vessel had been wrongfully seized and certain types of vessels were altogether exempt from seizure2. Prize courts adjudicated claims of ownership both for vessels and cargoes: Article III of the US Constitution names the Supreme Court as having “admiralty” jurisdiction in privateering3. However, courts were often deliberately slow to resolve claims related to illegally possessed ships. One American vessel was held for “finding further evidence” for almost 9 years. A major difference between privateering and patriotic hacking is the lack of a legal framework for hacking. Not all privateers were focused on profit: the English Sea-Dogs directed their actions in the Spanish-English War against Spanish state assets. Much of the credit for defeating the Spanish Armada is due to privateers. Their actions are illustrative of the problems inherent to non-state violence. Although Drake’s plunder of the Spanish New World netted a 47:1 return on Queen Elizabeth’s investment, his actions were destabilizing for international affairs.4 The English crown decided it was better to execute the knighted Sir Walter Raleigh than suffer the destabilization that resulted from his continued piracy in America. The ships of neutral countries became preyed upon by privateers in the 18th century. As privateering became an accepted practice among the states of Europe, belligerent states began hauling war goods in the holds of neutral ships to avoid blockades. In response, England declared a policy of searching neutral ships for war goods as they sailed into blockaded ports. Russia joined with several other neutral countries to declare the “League of Armed Neutrality” in 1783. The league threatened violence against the English privateers if attacks on neutral vessels did not stop. Seizing neutral ships created an opening for incremental prohibition of privateering. Similar openings against the most egregious forms of patriotic hacking may exist today if neutral, victimized parties (including industry and NGOs) band together. Historians are divided over the impact of privateering in general on the outcome of war. Some credit privateers as being instrumental in the success of the American Revolution while others dismiss their contribution as trivial5. Notably, French privateers took twice as many boats as prize during the Seven Year War with England, but the treaty ending that was has been described as “the -60-
most disgraceful, perhaps, that France ever signed”6. The impact of privateering on the course of war is murky, but its destabilizing impact on recent peaces and neutral countries was clear. Privateering Falls into Disrepute Privateering was not eliminated in one fell swoop. Instead, privateering was slowly removed from legitimate practice through the development of norms and cooperation between states. Ironically, categories of privateering created to justify expanded use of privateering were crucial the eventual elimination of privateering. The first step in prohibiting privateering originated with the Russian Declaration of “Armed Neutrality”. Responding to English seizures of neutral vessels carrying goods along the coast of France, Russia declared that she would defend her neutral boats carrying non-war goods from seizure. Her declaration was issued in 1780 and by the end of the American Revolution in 1783 it was joined by six other European powers. Their enforcement of “free ships, free goods” created a wedge against privateering. Although the British, did not accept the principle as law, prevented their privateers from seizing free ships to avoid further antagonizing the Russians during the American Revolution. The Napoleonic wars at the turn of the 19th Century saw excessive privateering by both the English and French. Crimes against crews were inflicted by both sides: one American captain was tortured until he signed papers declaring his goods the property of England. 7 These excesses caused neutral European countries to see privateering very negatively.8 Constructing an understanding of privateering as a harmful rather than glorious occupation was a crucial move in building international support for prohibition. During the Crimean War in the middle of the 19th Century, England and France jointly agreed to cease issuing licenses to privateers. France took the initiative in creating the agreement. England also agreed to respect the French principle of “free ships make free goods”.9 As the two largest powers in the war, their agreement set a standard for allies to follow. Creating this norm was crucial to lay the groundwork for the Declaration of Paris, the treaty that ended privateering. Agreements among small actors also contributed to ending privateering. The petty states of Germany shut their ports to “private-armed vessels and their prizes”.10 Removing the market for prizes eliminated much of the incentive for merchants to cruise. This offers hopeful evidence that market reforms can decrease patriotic hacking as well as other forms of cybercrime. Both the constructed distaste for privateering and the practice of non-use during the Crimean war contributed to the willingness of states to sign onto the Declaration of Paris during the Paris Peace Conference. The Declaration of Paris was proposed in the spring of 1856 by Count Walewski, the president of the Congress. Eight days after the document was proposed to “[lay] the foundations of a uniform maritime law, in time of war”, seven governments had signed onto the declaration. Within two years 35 states had joined the declaration. States with strong navies, such as England and France, joined the convention with the knowledge that their conventional naval strength would be unaffected by this document11. Just as privateers did not necessarily alter real power balances, but were destabilizing, patriotic hackers do not change relative power differences but are destabilizing. Weaker states joined to protect their shipping of neutral goods during war time: official navies were more accountable than privateers. Industry in all states benefited from reductions in illicit seizures: shipping became more reliable, and insurance rates decreased.12 States unaffected by patriotic hacking can nonetheless find real reason to support prohibition efforts. Every state benefits from reduced deadweight loss from cybercrime. Even though the United States did not sign the Declaration of Paris, the norms created by the document made their way into American political discourse. Abraham Lincoln not only refused to hire privateers, he labeled Confederate use as “immoral”.13 This is illustrative that even for states -61-
that do not immediately sign on to a treaty prohibiting an activity (such as patriotic hacking), norms seep in and have real effects. As indicated several elements were necessary for the elimination of privateering: norms against certain forms of privateering (seizure of neutral ships doing trade along the coast of belligerent states) had to be developed by intergovernmental organizations (the League of Armed Neutrality), understandings of the negative externalities associated with privateering (increased costs of insurance), and a temporary agreement not to use privateers by allied states (France and England during the Crimean war). Over a period of only seventy years the states of Europe agreed to end a centuries-old practice through norms and treaty law. Patriotic hacking presents a similar challenge to which we can apply many of the same solutions.
Patriotic Hacking: Introduction Here “patriotic hacking” is taken to mean attacks against foreign private or state assets by computer based means where the attacking actors are tacitly permitted or more directly supported by their home government and the motivation for the attack is at least partly based on national identity. This definition includes three examples of patriotic hacking while excluding attacks that occur merely for profit or without political motivation. “Foreign private or state assets” include websites, databases, and physical property. These assets do not need to be connected to the Internet to be vulnerable to “computer based means” as Stuxnet demonstrated; however, many instances of patriotic hacking are facilitated by the Internet14. An Internet based vector alone is neither sufficient nor necessary to characterize an attack as patriotic hacking—many instances of Internet attack are neither permitted by a home government nor motivated by national identity, e.g. stealing a database of credit card information15. “Tacitly permitted or more directly supported” can range from deliberately investigating an attack slowly, turning a blind eye, providing material support, or paying hackers for their accomplishments16. Portugal may be obliged under treaty law to investigate those who defaced Moody’s website, but could proceed quite slowly. China, at the other end of this spectrum, would probably make no bones about paying for the American defense secrets its hackers procure. Proving that a state has supported or ignored hackers behind an attack is difficult in the current environment. If stronger norms concerning the need to investigate attacks are developed, deliberate slowness can be shown relative to other attacks of similar sophistication and accusations of supporting patriotic hackers can be more easily made. A hacker’s “home government” is the sovereign territory from which the hacker operates. Privateering is distinguished from piracy as piracy is held to happen “under conditions which render it impossible or unfair to hold any state responsible for their commission”.17 At least one state can be held responsible for the actions of hackers—their computers must be located in some state. The international law enforcement regime, and the very concept of national sovereignty, rests on states enforcing law against crimes committed within their borders. The question of jurisdiction is a tricky one when dealing with computer attacks. Malicious code can be written in one state, routed through servers located in four different states, and do damage in a fifth state. Which country has the responsibility and right to prosecute the author of the malicious code? In the end, this is merely a question of practice and extant treaty law, not one that is sufficiently difficult to derail the process of establishing a global prohibition regime on patriotic hacking. Patriotic hacking relies on the attackers being motivated, at least in part, by “national identity”. Privateers worked for their national governments and were at least partially motivated to -62-
fight by a sense of duty and love for their country even if their balance sheets were a factor. Today’s patriotic hackers seem to pursue their projects with less of a sense of monetary gain—unless Russia paid botnet herders for their time the hackers would have lost money—and more of a sense of patriotism18. The language used by those who defaced Moody’s website is explicitly pro-Portugal, while the Syrian Electronic Army is explicitly pro-regime.
Website Vandalism Finding an audience for one’s work on the Internet can be difficult: patriotic hackers have found it sometimes easier to get their message out by vandalizing websites. Websites often contain vulnerabilities that allow malicious hackers to replace pages. These vulnerabilities range from easily guessed administrator passwords, to letting hackers run unintended code. Changing the appearance of a website can range from easy (in the case of weak passwords) to fairly difficult (in the case of an SQL injection). Not only does changing a website expose the regular users of a website to the message of the patriotic hacker, these attacks often receive press attention that further amplifies their message. Patriotic hackers sometimes target the websites of organizations that have recently done their state a disservice, while at other times their targets seem chosen randomly. In early July 2011, Moody’s Credit Rating Agency downgraded Portuguese government bonds to junk status.19 Hackers, presumably Portuguese, replaced Moody’s website with one containing proPortugal messages and anti-Moody’s slurs. The hackers included the charge that the site contained “trivia security vulnerabilities”.20 A group calling itself the Syrian Electronic Army (SEA) has been active in posting proregime propaganda by vandalizing websites.21 The SEA received praise from President Bashar alAssad in a speech, calling the group a “real army in virtual reality”.22 His praise fits the pattern of privateering where rulers could take credit for success, but plausibly deny failures. The SEA responded gratefully but denied being an organ of the state, instead writing that its members were motivated by patriotism and a duty to refute what was said about the regime.23 Most recently the SEA vandalized the homepage of Harvard.24 Their technique will only be effective in changing international opinions of the Assad regime if the SEA appears to be unconnected to the regime. The possible impact of SEA actions ranges from international disapproval for Syrian hacking to increasing the perceived domestic support for Assad. Increasing the perception of local support is important for a dictator clinging to power— foreign states are more likely to sever ties with a regime they see as lacking local legitimacy, as the Arab Spring amply demonstrated. Efforts to increase the resiliency of websites will reduce the incentive for groups like the SEA to vandalize sites. If hackers know that websites can be more easily fixed than broken, their incentives to attack will be reduced. Furthermore, if the news media becomes less interested in these stories, the multiplier effect on these hacking attacks will be diminished.
Distributed Denial of Service Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) attacks make web resources unavailable to legitimate users by overwhelming servers. Belligerents can direct packets from their own computers or by using a network of infected computers known as a botnet. Using a botnet for DDoS purposes is a common tactic used by patriotic hackers and cyber protestors (particularly by the group known as -63-
Anonymous)25. Botnets may be rented for as little as $8.94 an hour.26 A DDoS attack is not designed to change databases or create physical destruction. Conceptually, a DDoS attack most closely resembles a privateer blockade of a port. No legitimate users can access the site, analogous to preventing ships from sailing into a city. Both have similar economic impacts: a blockade stopped commerce for a city as effectively as a DDoS blocks commerce for a website or country in the case of the month long attack against Estonia. DDoS attacks pose similar problems for states today as privateer blockades did during the sail era. Denial of service attacks exploit the protocols designed to ensure reliable connections between servers and clients. Some technical solutions exist: filters can be installed between servers and the World Wide Web to find malicious packets. Filters and other technical solutions (sometimes provided at the transport layer by telecom companies) should be supplemented by political agreement to prosecute those who direct or carry out DDoS attacks. In the next few paragraphs I will explore two instances of patriotic hackers using DDoS attacks and the result of these attacks on the international system. DDoS attacks were used by patriotic hackers in two notable instances. In both cases, the botnet herders were reportedly from Russia. Estonian government is highly reliant on the Internet, and much of Estonian industry is as well. Their government was one of the first to recognize internet access as a human right. In the spring of 2007 Estonia removed the “Bronze Soldier”, a Soviet war memorial from downtown Tallinn. Massive DDoS attacks simultaneously hit Estonian government websites, banks, party websites, newspapers, and other companies. At the same time in the real world, rioting occurred around the Estonian embassy in Russia. The Internet attacks lasted weeks. During the attack Estonia’s web-commerce was crippled. Bank websites and services were unavailable, government websites were similarly disabled. This hit Estonian citizens particularly hard given the country’s reliance on the Internet. NATO advisors visited Estonia and helped with cyber defense. An official in Brussels was quoted by the Economist as asking, “If a member state’s communications centre is attacked with a missile, you call it an act of war. So what do you call it if the same installation is disabled with a cyber-attack?”27 Sorting out problems of cyber conflict vis-a-vis alliances like NATO will take some time. Members inside the Government of Estonia pointed fingers at the Russian government and claimed to have enough circumstantial evidence to link the government to the massive DDoS.28 Patterns in the attack indicated that a small group of computers was directing attacks. Furthermore, while anticrime cooperation remained normal between most Estonian and Russian agencies, unnamed government members said that cooperation with the Russian Computer Emergency Response Team (CERT) was “almost non-existent”.29 The next year Russia used DDoS attacks during the war with Georgia over South Ossetia. During the initial days of the war, massive DDoS attacks hit Georgian government websites, and media outlets. The denial of service hurt Georgian military effectiveness, the capacity of the Georgian government to communicate with its citizens, the ability of the media to communicate internally, and the reach of national media to the international community. In each of these attacks, the masters behind the botnets were likely located in Russia. However, the Russian government did not proceed with investigating the cyber attacks on Estonia and Georgia. Because botnets are generally used for profitable activities (such a sending spam), the herders behind the DDoS attacks were either losing money, or were being paid by the government. The opportunity cost of turning their botnets to perform weeks-long DDoS attacks suggests that the hackers were paid. One of the major consequences of the Estonian attacks was a destabilization of Eastern Europe. The uncertainty within NATO underlying the question of what constitutes a use of force was highlighted for the world to see. When an alliance seems less than committed to collective -64-
action to defend one of its members from certain types of attack, disincentives not to attack in that manner go down, and thus the likelihood of attack goes up. American security demands a credible commitment to collective action by NATO—patriotic hacking attacks expose weakness and must be responded to in order to maintain the credible commitment.
Data Theft Data theft by patriotic hackers offers the most direct parallel to the actions of privateers. Outright theft of corporate secrets, intellectual property, and government information represents what one US Senator called “biggest transfer of wealth through theft and piracy in the history of mankind.”30 The British Office of Cyber Security and Information Assurance estimates that cybercrime costs the British economy $43.5 billion dollars a year.31 These costs demand a policy response. The policy response to privateering can inform actions with respect to patriotic hacking. Patriotic hackers have had enormously diverse targets for data theft. Just as English privateers were as willing to target French commerce as they were to attack the Spanish Armada, patriotic hackers have attacked private software companies (Google, Microsoft), defense contractors and related firms (EMC, Lockheed Martin), and the secrets of the US Government. Attacks range in sophistication from scanning for open ports to complex “spear phishing” schemes that download software to target computers inside networks, to long term penetration of networks by worms. Noah Shachtman quotes an unnamed US Government official as saying that it was no accident that “a worm used by Russian cybercriminals resulted in biggest penetration of Defense Department networks ever.”32 While some hackers go after data for their own use, many patriotic hackers involved with data theft appear to be doing so for state agencies or state run enterprises33. Stealing the source code to Google’s web-apps benefits a repressive state agency interested in monitoring human rights activists’ or dissidents’ emails. Hiring patriotic hackers to break into code repositories offers plausible deniability—the same rationale as motivated sovereigns to hire privateers 400 years ago. Hackers who commit identity fraud using stolen databases of credit card information are not patriotic hackers. Their motives do not stem from national identity—they are motivated by greed and profit. As such, they are petty criminals (though not pirates because the host state can be held accountable for their actions) and do not constitute an example of patriotic hacking. Attacks to steal plans from defense contractors seem unlikely to be motivated by firms interested in building knock-off F-35s. Avionics designs would be useful to the defense planners of a state planning for war against the United States and its allies. Acts of data exfiltration from defense contractors and defense laboratories are likely carried out by patriotic hackers paid by state agencies—paralleling the English system of paying privateers for capturing prisoners and ships. This modern form of espionage has been well documented by United States intelligence agencies.34 What appears to offer states a security gain actually increases tensions between the United States and its rivals. In this way, patriotic hacking is as destabilizing as privateering. Data theft offers the most obvious parallel to privateering: private actors steal assets from corporations and sell the ill-gotten gains to the state.35 These thefts can cost millions of dollars in stolen research and development. Corporations also suffer from lost trust following disclosure of a breach: the breach at EMC (where attackers were looking for the protocols behind SecureID) is estimated to have cost $66 million.36 The attackers appeared to be after the information to then attack government contractors that used SecureID technology to authenticate their workers.37 Building global norms against those attacks by patriotic hackers that are most damaging or most -65-
expensive can start the process of total prohibition of patriotic hacking, just as the League of Armed Neutrality started the process of prohibiting privateering.
Steps to Curb Patriotic Hacking Privateers were used extensively during the War of 1812 by both the United States and England. By 1855 over fifty countries banned privateering by signing the Declaration of Paris. Privateering quickly moved from an established and defended right of states to a taboo among civilized countries. The steps discussed above that abolished privateering can be used as a model for stopping patriotic hacking. I recommend a two pronged approach focusing on development of international norms and law, and efforts to close the commercial under-pinings of patriotic hacker communities. Treaty law and new norms stopped many states from using privateers; today a system of treaties and norms could function similarly to delegitimize patriotic hacking. Norms banning DDoS attacks as part of war or as a means of retribution can be a first step towards banning patriotic hacking. Since Internet Service Providers (ISPs) can very easily spot command and control servers, countries could agree to use this information to shut down botnets used in illicit DDoS attacks.38 Efforts to shut down botnets would also cut spam and virus activityâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;botnets are not exclusively used for DDoS attacks. Reducing cybercrime in general as a knock-on effect of reducing patriotic hacking is a positive externality which will benefit all states. Reducing the number of botnets on the market will raise prices and drive petty criminals out of the cybercrime arena. Just as eliminating privateering helped countries end piracy (except for small pockets of lawlessness today on the Horn of Africa), cooperation to take Command and Control (C&C) servers involved in patriotic DDoS attacks would reduce other forms of cybercrime as well. Generation of norms against website vandalism would empower non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to name and shame states that allow citizens to deface websites. Naming and shaming operations by NGOs or by inter-governmental organizations (IGOs) have been effective in the fight against money laundering.39 Similarly, ports that supported pirates and illicit privateers were identified by states. Once a city was labeled as supporting pirates (through providing markets for stolen goods, provisions, repairs, etc.), the country was pressured into cracking down.40 Now states could be identified as allowing vandalism or other forms of cyber crime. NGOs or IGOs could work with the country to build enforcement capacity. If the state refuses assistance in prosecuting these crimes, international bodies could pass sanctions against the offending state. The abolition of privateering demonstrated the ability of norms to reduce and ultimately end behavior that states perceive increases security. States that allow their citizens to carry out cyber attacks perceive an increase in security; however, this increase is illusory. Security minded actors should educate others about the dangers of patriotic hacking, just as France showed Europe the dangers inherent to privateering. Studies have shown that spammers and other cybercriminals rely on remarkably small numbers of payment processors and webhosting services. These links between the illicit world and the greater licit economy offer a choke point where industry and NGOs can cooperate to shut down patriotic hackers. Just as the ports of the German states closed themselves to the ill gotten gains of privateers, online payment processors can work together to police the accounts of suspected patriotic hackers and freeze assets that are payment for illegal activities. Small efforts by online payment processors would be a major contribution to the prohibition of patriotic hacking. Norms of cooperation and investigation in cases of intellectual property theft would safeguard the competitiveness of industry. The transfer of intellectual property from Western -66-
companies to criminal elements has had enormous costs for the West. However, if states do not develop true indigenous innovation they will forever be economic laggards. Stopping intellectual property theft is just as important for developing economies as it is for advanced economies. Decreasing the number of patriotic hackers through increased prosecution is a reasonable first step in this process. As groups of states come forward against certain types of patriotic hacking, norms will be generated by discussing their findings and treaties. Countries not originally part of treaties can sign on or create new documents. The Budapest Convention on Cybercrime should not be seen as a final step, but it should be held as a first step in an evolution of norms of legal alignment and cooperation in cyberspace. The good solution between several states should not be sacrificed for the perfect solution among all—England and France jointly banned privateering during the Crimean war even though other states reserved the right to cruise.
Are Patriotic Hackers Modern Privateers? Patriotic hackers as defined in this paper can be understood as modern privateers. Having outlined a brief history of each, this section will explore exactly how they are similar from the perspective of the political scientist and how the phenomena differ. Privateers and patriotic hackers are both non-state actors who participate in activities generally reserved for state actors. Privateers generally took part in violence against enemy commerce (running blockades, intercepting contraband) and this pattern is continued by patriotic hackers (DDoS attacks, data theft). However, at times privateers extended their reach to more general war making (the English Sea Dogs). Privateers have yet to be implicated in destructive or violent acts. The prime example of a violent cyber attack, Stuxnet, is generally attributed to state actors because of its sophistication and target intelligence required. States employed privateers for generally the same reasons as they tolerate or employ patriotic hackers. In both cases the non-state actor provides increased power for the state without increased expenditures. Privateers used their own vessels and armaments just as patriotic hackers use their own computers and programming knowledge. Just as the English had trouble reigning in privateers after conflict (who became de facto pirates), it is possible that patriotic hackers will continue their actions after cessation of conflict and create a problem for stability.41 In addition to providing a no-cost increase in naval power, privateers also offered states plausible deniability if their actions were outside the realm of acceptability. Patriotic hackers come with the same benefit. Privateers were generally driven into the market for force by the profit motive.42 Money made by seizing cargoes and taking prisoners more than compensated privateers for risking capture, injury, or loss of their ships. It is unclear today whether states are compensating patriotic hackers for their actions or if they are solely motivated by love of their country. In the case of the Estonian and Georgian DDoS attacks it possible large botnet owners were paid while individuals using rudimentary software were not.43 The effects of patriotic hackers mirror those of privateers. Data theft resembles stealing cargos from commercial vessels, though patriotic hackers go after more than just “contraband” materials. A naval blockade prevented traffic from entering or leaving a port, denial of service attacks prevent users from accessing websites and servers. So similar are the attacks that the then Prime Minister of Estonia, Andrus Asnip, asked, “What’s the difference between a blockade of harbors or airports of sovereign states and the blockade of government institutions and newspaper websites?”44 -67-
The difference lies in the risks the actors are exposed to in the course of running the blockade. Navies could respond to blockades and mete out violence to free commercial shipping. Patriotic hackers face little risk and suffer little cost. Operating from within their own country they are unlikely to face prosecution for their attacks, let alone violence. Further differences lie in the legal frameworks within which the actors operated. Privateers of the 18th and 19th centuries worked within a centuries old legal framework. The laws provided justification for the attacks (recouping costs of war), a system for identifying actors as legitimate and authorized (letters of marque), and means for redress of grievance against illegitimate attacks (admiralty courts). Patriotic hackers operate without a similar legal framework. The justification so far is that nothing is stopping the attacks. Law has yet to catch up with technology in this case. Patriotic hackers thrive precisely because their attacks cannot be attributed to a country. And without attribution, there can be no recompense for victims. This is an area where the analogy is notably weak. Future developments in cyber technology and cyber law may strengthen the analogy or weaken it. If the attribution problem can be solved, the second dissimilarity is made similar. Law can then be proposed to make countries liable for the actions of patriotic hackers within their borders just as law holds states accountable for many ills emanating from within their sovereign boundaries (pollutants, violence, etc). Further space remains between patriotic hackers and privateers. The functionality of privateers was eventually absorbed by state navies. During the American Civil War the South used privateers to attack Northern commerce. Abraham Lincoln publicly chastised the South for this practice while his own Navy was fulfilling the same mission. Privateering was eliminated for the Union only so far as the actors involved were concerned: attacks on commercial shipping and blockades of ports continued through 1865. It remains to be seen whether stats will do so in cyberspace. This paper explores the political science ramifications of this in the next section. International law and the expanded functionality of state navies ended privateering. Whether law will expand to reign in patriotic hackers remains to be seen. From the realist perspective then, patriotic hackers are quite similar to privateers: both increased power for states in times of conflict without increased spending. Privateers came with some potential to cause escalation of conflict, or destabilizing of nascent peace. In this patriotic hackers are again similar. From a legalistic perspective though, the two are quite different. Law existed and was enforced around almost all aspects of privateering. Not only does patriotic hacking lack a legal justification, it lacks governing legal principals. Treaty law and the development of norms were instrumental in ending privateering. Technical developments will be necessary before law can be written that has teeth against patriotic hackers. The analogy of patriotic hackers to privateers is meant to suggest avenues towards prohibition and ways for political scientists to understand the potential impact of patriotic hacking on stability and war. It is not a perfect analogy, but its weaknesses themselves suggest ways for the international community to move forwards against patriotic hacking.
Broader Themes in Political Science During the 18th and 19th Centuries, privateering was acceptable within the limits of war, against the enemy or his supporters. The patriotic hacking I have outlined has at times taken place during armed conflict (South Ossetia and the on-going Syrian civil conflict) and at times during nonviolent political strife (data theft by rival powers, the Estonian DDoS attack). Carl Von Clausewitz -68-
defines acts of war as being necessarily violent, instrumental, and political.45 Cyber attacks so far have failed to meet these criteria while privateers arguably did meet these criteria. Violence, in order to be a meaningful concept and not mere metaphor, requires a threat against the health or life of human beings. None of the patriotic hacking attacks have met this bar: DDoS attacks, vandalism, and data theft constitute at least a nuisance, and quite often a significant expense for targeted companies, but so far have not resulted in bodily harm. Privateering, on the other hand, relied openly on the potential for cannon and sword to mete out violence against human beings. Some patriotic hacking has been instrumental: DDoS attacks reduced the capacity of countries to communicate internally and the vandalism of the Syrian Electronic Army attempts to lend legitimacy to the struggling regime. In the case of Estonia, no evidence has been brought to light that the attacks were instrumental for the Kremlin: Estonia has been unable to provide evidence of official involvement.46 Privateering was undoubtedly instrumental for countries writing letters of marque, it is less clear that patriotic hackers reach that same bar. Finally, for patriotic hacking to reach the same degree of being a war like act that privateering was, it must be shown to be political. For an act of war, or even an act of violence, to be political it must be attributed to a political entity. As Clausewitz put it memorably “War is a mere continuation of politics by other means”.47 So far, countries have refused to accept responsibility or even knowledge of patriotic hacking attempts. Privateers flew their country’s flag proudly and carried letters of marque signed by their sovereign. In Von Clausewitz’s framework, we start to see light between privateers and patriotic hackers. If patriotic hacking remains outside the realm of war, how can political science make sense of it? There are a few aspects of patriotic hacking that have obvious lessons for political scientists. First, patriotic hacking underscores the difficulty of assessing power in cyberspace. In 2006 Michael Wynne the Secretary of the Air Force declared “Cyberspace is a domain in which the Air Force flies and fights.”48 Realists would suggest that without accurate knowledge of power distribution war is more likely to break out. The difficulty of assessing power stems in part from the small footprint of cyber operations. Unlike nuclear weapons or missile programs which require construction and infrastructure, cyber weapons can be developed by individuals working in their homes. An ordinary office building in the outskirts of a city could house a cyber weapons development team as easily as an insurance company. Our conventional approaches (satellite imagery, IAEA inspections) for estimating weapons programs and verifying compliance with treaties are useless here. Building treaties in the tradition of SALT and START will be difficult in cyberspace as for now we can only trust, but not verify.49 In a world where any civilian actor can build and operate rudimentary cyber weapons and governments are often unable or unwilling to prosecute their own citizens for cyber offenses, cyber arms control seems far off. Just as the continued actions of Walter Raleigh threatened peace between England and Spain, the actions of patriotic hackers may put cyber peace at risk.50 Progress towards cyber stability will require that states increase their willingness to prosecute patriotic hackers, or take responsibility for the actions of patriotic hackers. The primary functions provided by privateers were eventually taken up by official state navies. A similar pattern of standing up official state armed forces to take the role of patriotic hackers may be underway in cyberspace. Examples include the United States Cyber Command and the Estonian cyber-militia program.51 Progress on this front will increase accountability in cyberspace. Accountability is understood to be good for stability in both realist and liberal frameworks. For the realists, accountability decreases the likelihood that states will launch covert first-strike missions. Current gaps in accountability have allowed attacks like Stuxnet and the -69-
patriotic hacking described in this paper. Liberal perspectives suggest that accountability should increase stability because states will choose to take legal recourse against aggressors rather than violent retaliation. Cyber experts have claimed for years that cyberspace favors offense over defense.52 Time will tell if nations can secure their critical infrastructure against cyber attack and if cyber conflict will attack infrastructure. One option for states is to lever their patriotic hackers as internal “red teams”. Red team exercises have been a staple of penetration testing for years, applied at the national level they could identify vulnerabilities faster than allowing industry to audit itself.53 Patriotic hackers, as the current most likely perpetrators of such attacks, make an ideal pool to hire for such testing. The incidents described in this paper suggest that states are unwilling to retaliate or escalate in the face of hacking attacks. Determining if this is due to the attribution problem (the technical design of the Internet makes determining the source of packets a hard problem), a lack of desire to escalate conflict for traditional reasons, or something else altogether is an issue ripe for study.
Conclusions Patriotic hacking’s consequences parallel those of privateering. The actors, norms, and processes involved in prohibiting privateers resemble those needed to curb patriotic hacking. Hacking has seemed an intractable problem but this parallel offers hopeful guidance for policy makers, industry, and NGO/INGOs. Building wedges against certain forms of patriotic hacking that are most egregious while engaging with industry to shutdown the ways that patriotic hackers move money can start the development of a global prohibition regime against patriotic hacking. The actors involved in governing the Internet and generating norms of conduct are diverse but share an interest in security and stability. Ending patriotic hacking will increase both United States security and the security of all countries and corporations that use the Internet. 1
US Constitution, Article I, Section 8.11. “To declare war, grant letters of marque and reprisal…” US Supreme Court Case Paquette Habana traces hundreds of years worth of international law related to the legality and morality of capturing fishing vessels even during times of war. The US Supreme Court eventually ordered the fishing vessel returned to her owners. 3 US Constitution, Article III, Section 2.1 4 That the author of that book described the crown as “investing” is unusual: generally privateers were entirely private enterprises. 5 Thompson, 25v 6 Stark, Francis R. “The Abolition of Privateering and The Declaration of Paris” Studies in History, Economics and Public Law Volume VIII Number 3. Columbia University, New York, 1897. Pg 75 7 Stark p 111 8 Stark p 139 9 Stark p 139 10 Stark p 139 11 Stark p 144 12 Thompson, Janice. Mercenaries, Pirates, and Sovereigns. Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1996. pg 118 13 William Morrison Robinson, Jr. The Confederate Privateers (Yale University Press, New Haven, CT, 1928) pg. 14. 2
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Researchers have suggested that Stuxnet was introduced to Iranian control and control (C&C) computers via thumb-drive flash media—keeping C&C computers “air-gapped” or disconnected from the internet is a common security practice. 15 Such as the attack on TJ Maxx to steal their credit card database in 2007. 16 Russian hackers using their botnets for DDoS attacks were probably paid for the attacks against Estonia. The opportunity cost for the hackers would have been enormous given the scale and duration of attacks. 17 William Edward Hall, A Treatise on International Law, 8th ed., ed. A Pearce Higgins (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924), 620-621 18 Botnets are used to make money in a variety of ways (sending out spam, blackmailing operators of websites with potential DDoS attacks), in the Estonian and Georgian cases the hackers did not stand to make money from their actions unless they were paid. 19 “Portugal’s Debt Rating Cut to Junk by Moody’s” Jolly, David and Alderman, Liz. New York Times, July 5, 2011 20 Image of the defaced page, hosted by The Register. Accessed online 8/2/11 http://regmedia.co.uk/2011/07/08/moodys.png 21 Syrian Electronic Army: Disruptive Attacks and Hyped Target, “Information Warfare Monitor” June 25, 2011. Accessed online 8/2/11 at http://www.infowar-monitor.net/2011/06/syrian-electronic-armydisruptive-attacks-and-hyped-targets/ 22 Speech by Syrian President Assad. Translation issued by Syrian official news agency, Sana. Accessed online 8/2/11 http://www.sana.sy/eng/337/2011/06/21/353686.htm 23 Press release by Syrian Electronic Army, hosted on their website, translated automatically by Google. Accessed online 8/2/11 http://www.syrian-es.com/2011-05-10-18-40-09/187-2011-06-20-14-35-44.html 24 “ Harvard website hacked by Syria protesters” Sean Coughlan Sept 25, 2011 <http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-15061377> Accessed online 10/9/11 25 Anonymous has used DDoS attacks against a variety of targets, from Mastercard and Visa, to the public website of the CIA. 26 Matthew Broersma, “Botnet price for hourly hire on par with cost of two pints,” ZDNet UK, 5/25/2010 <http://www.zdnet.co.uk/news/security-threats/2010/05/25/botnet-price-for-hourly-hire-on-par-withcost-of-two-pints-40089028/?tag=mncol;txt> 27 “A cyber-riot Estonia has faced down Russian rioters. But its websites are still under attack” published May 10th, 2007 Accessed online 8/9/11 at http://www.economist.com/node/9163598?story_id=9163598 28 Wikileaks released cable http://wikileaks.cabledrum.net/cable/2007/06/07TALLINN366.html#par9 29 Ibid, paragraph 10 30 http://whitehouse.senate.gov/newsroom/press/release/?id=CE96D9B3-870B-49FE-A04A269CEAF3D586 31 http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/02/17/us-britain-security-cyber-idUSTRE71G35320110217 32 Shachtman, Noah. Pirates of the ISPs Cyber Security #1, July 2011, Brookings Press 33 Report to the US Congress—Nov 4th NYTimes article 34 NYTimes article, Nov 4 2011 35 “RSA Blames Breach on Two Hacker Clans Working for Unnamed Government” Zetter, Kim. 10/11/11 http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2011/10/two-hacker-groups-breached-rsa/ Accessed 10/11/11 36 “Cyber attack on RSA cost EMC $66 million” Hayley Tsukayama 7/26/11 Accessed 10/9/11 http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/post-tech/post/cyber-attack-on-rsa-cost-emc-66million/2011/07/26/gIQA1ceKbI_blog.html 37 RSA Blames Breach on Two Hacker Clans Working for Unnamed Government 38 Interview by author with AT&T Security Operations Center personnel 39 Follow the Money William F. Wechsler Foreign Affairs Vol. 80, No. 4 (Jul. - Aug., 2001), pp. 40-57 -71-
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Thompson, Janice. Mercenaries, Pirates, and Sovereigns. 118 Stark, 26 42 Ibid. 30 43 Thomas Rid (2012): Cyber War Will Not Take Place, Journal of Strategic Studies, 35:1, 13 44 [Andrey Zlobin and Xenia Boletskaya, ‘E-bomb’, Vedomosti] 28 May 2007, 5http://bitly.com/g1M9Si4. 45 Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (Berlin: Ullstein 1832, 1980), 27. 46 Estonia has no evidence of Kremlin involvement in cyber attacks’, Ria Novosti, 6 Sept. 2007. 47 Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 29. 48 William J. Lynn, ‘Defending a New Domain’, Foreign Affairs 89/5 (2010), 101. 49 To paraphrase Ronal Reagan’s oft repeated remark upon the signing of the Intermediate Nuclear Forces Treaty “trust, but verify” Text available online http://www.reagan.utexas.edu/archives/speeches/1987/120887c.htm accessed 3/26/12 50 Thompson, 25 51 Cyber militia programmed described to the author in an interview with US Air Force Major, Providence RI March 2012 52 Martin Libicki, Cyberdeterrence and Cyberwar (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation 2009), 32–3. 53 Goodrich and Tamassia, “Introduction to Computer Security” Addison-Wesley, 2001 41
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The Iran-Iraq War: Understanding the Psychological Implications, Narratives, and Legacy of the War on Iran’s Identity and Policies Behnam Taleblu, The George Washington University Introduction The Iran-Iraq War has been called many things. From the Iranian perspective, it has been known as the ‘Imposed War’ and the ‘Holy Defense of Iran,’ and from the Iraqi as ‘The Second Qadissiyya.’In the West it has come to be called the ‘Forgotten War of the Middle East’ and until recent, ‘the first Gulf War’ and ‘The Longest War of the 20th Century.’ More important than its name however, has been its lasting legacy on the Islamic Republic of Iran. Serving as an ideological and political blue-print for Iran, the narrative of the Iran-Iraq war has shifted drastically given changes in Iran’s security situation and domestic debates. Furthermore, the post-revolutionary generation has brought forth much of Iran’s political and military leadership; most of who saw the war as the formative experience that tested their political will when it came to statecraft. Hence, the aim of this paper is to study the psychological implications of the war on Iran’s foreign and domestic policies with specific attention to domestic debates and perceptions. While most exercise’s in political science involve understanding the patterns and ‘methods of change’1, a renewed understanding of the Iran-Iraq War provides an appreciation of continuity, both in ideology and world-view that has guided much of Iran’s leadership and trumped much of its national security policy.
Pre-War Context and Reasons for a Reassessment: Primer Understanding the context in which the war was first launched is crucial to understanding the entirety of the conflict. From a strategic sense, much has been written about the disastrous effects of an intra-Persian Gulf rivalry drawing in super-power(s) and affecting the free flow of oil. To better understand why events turned out as they did, it is best to view a centrist primer of history in those tumultuous years. Iran in 1979 experienced massive popular unrest, the flight of its last hereditary monarch, the return of a religious leader who had been exiled under political auspices, revolutionary purges of civilian and military leadership, the resignation of a moderate nationalist government and the eruption of factions that had participated in the popular movements sweeping the country since 1977. Iraq at that time sensed a window of opportunity to seize the Khuzestan oil fields, solving the Shatt-al-Arab/Arvand Rud border issue lingering with Iran since 1933 (and renegotiated with Iran in 1975). This massive tank-thrust from Iraqi marshes into Iran was justified under the following international auspices by Saddam Hussein; the liberation of Arabs in Khuzestan, the reclaiming of three islands in the Persian (he used the word Arabian) Gulf, and the prevention of the spread of the -73-
Islamic Revolution. Coupled further with the case made by Ba’athists that Iran had tried to assassinate Iraq’s foreign minister Tariq Aziz2, much of the Arab world looked to Iraq, the lesser of two evils in their opinion to contain Iran’s boundless ambition to spread it revolution.
Why Now: Guess who is Still in Charge? Most importantly, the Iran-Iraq War needs to be re-assessed in order to provide a more accurate study of the leadership of Iran today. Whether rallying people from the pulpit or commanding them through jebhe’s (command fronts), the bulk of the Iranian leadership today contributed to more than just the establishment of the Islamic Republic. They contributed to its enduring legacy and even existence. Iranian decision makers measured their metal in this conflict using everything possible from guns to God to achieve their objectives. Their experiences and formative perceptions of the world stem from this dark era in Middle Eastern history that is often neglected in the West. More scholarship and study in this aspect of modern Iranian history is needed, not just to understand the prevailing worldview in Tehran from an academic perspective, but to have a greater understanding of red-lines and threat perceptions from a policy standpoint. If we are to truly reach out to Khamenei, and really understand where the IRGC is headed towards, then the Iran-Iraq War provides much needed answers and insight into a regime that has been both pragmatic and dogmatic in its foreign relations.
Ideological Imperatives behind the War: Identity Politics The Islamic Republic of Iran has consistently sought to portray itself as the recipient of an invasion by a militarily aggressive and expansionist neighbor bankrolled by hypocrites and supported by the imperial west. By addressing and compartmentalizing its enemies3, the Islamic Republic was able to channel much of its ideological zeal against each one on a very different playing field. But was it only zeal, used very often in Iranian history in its religious or nationalist forms for the consumption of Iranian society? I posit that the regime itself actually believed that they were the oppressed ones who through war, God would redeem. Many have called the period of the 1980’s in Iran the era of Khomeini, or the decade of dogma; and it is because of faith at the forefront of all of Iran’s endeavors, including the war with Iraq that they do so. The implications of a Sunni-Arab state in the eyes of the Islamic Republic who challenged the natural Persian-Shiite power of the region at a time of crucial weakness and internal disorder provides much insight into the dominant narrative in the minds of the Iranian leadership at the time. As opposed to seeing the political lines (which may have rhetorically emerged later) between Iran and Iraq during the 8 year long war, this conflict was “seldom measured in territory lost or gained…The Islamic Republic’s conceptualization of the war sought to merge its religious pedigree with nationalistic claims4.” This fusion provided much of the religious fodder that did more than to call men to arms to have a rally around the flag effect. Much like an ideological crusade, political and military objectives in the war became religious imperatives, actions that must be taken and must succeed in order for the Islamic Revolution to spread to Iraq. In order to do that, the immediate enemy must be chastised as evil, and as such, Saddam’s forces were seen as forces of disbelief, working to undermine Islam and later destroy it5. Much like a crusade, the Islamic Republic used religious outlets as a means to circumvent political applications and aspects of the war. In that regard, the lasting effects of Friday Prayer leaders all across Iran would be of those who compared fighting for Iran against Iraq as fighting for God and ‘His Kingdom6‘against Satan. Today, those same Friday prayer leaders urge Iranians to resist America and to not watch satellite television, use the same language to arm constituents with -74-
faith against an external foe. For Iran during the war however, two outcomes could have occurred, and both according to the Islamic Republic’s narrative are tantamount to victory. While the first is a regime change and the removal of Saddam from power, the other is more elusive, and is martyrdom as promised to man by God7.
Imam Hussein vs. Saddam Hussein While the sacrifices of Iran’s youth and that of an entire generation are well known, the methods of manipulation of the war by Iran’s new Islamic leadership are not. Many strategists would consider it a window of opportunity to attack and occupy part of a country that is undergoing a revolution, but little would they know that strategy, in a very elastic sense would be on Iran’s side. The new leaders of the Revolution embarked on a movement to use the war as a means of consolidation of religious and more importantly political power. This consolidation did not happen overnight and did not revolve around foreign policy only, but had a very strong domestic component as well – creating another established link between international and domestic action for the Islamic Republic of Iran. One of the greatest advantages Iran had in terms of religious proponents of the war was to expound upon the body of rhetoric and speeches given to overthrow the Shah; but now with specific application to Saddam Hussein. By comparing the martyrs of the revolution to the martyrs of Karbala, Khomeini had taken Imam Hussein’s historical and religious struggle out of space and time. But perhaps more intelligently and dangerously he had ascribed a solely political nature to it. What the clerics also enforced during the devastating war with Iraq was the Islamicisity of Iran’s quest in the region – making its strategic objective of hegemonic power be perceived as Iran’s jockeying for the vanguard of the Muslim world. Hence, defending Iran was, according to Ayatollah Khomeini, “A trust given by the Almighty to the Islamic nation. And all of us, young and old, man and woman, are responsible for guarding this trust8”This ‘Trust’ as Ayatollah Khomeini eloquently put, served the Islamic Republic well throughout the low points of the campaign. But not only would Iran look inward for strength, but it would look outward, to confirm its worldview to magnify Saddam’s decadence9 and rest assured that this was no simple calculation of strategy to invade Iran, but rather a direct order from his imperial overlords. This way, Iran could rejoice in its relative independence from being dictated to by foreign actors. Furthermore, this radical independence was part of a tripartite of feelings that would come to define the Iranian national motto, “Independence, Freedom, and Islamic Republic. “In order to maintain its independence, Iran would have to fight for its freedom, and thus gain its right to be an Islamic Republic. Its relative ability to do this, when according to its narrative, almost all the world backed Saddam, has much to say about the Shiite precepts of dealing with oppression and coping with injustice10.
Domestic Debates: To Invade Iraq or Not to Invade After Iran had successfully liberated its cities, notably the famous liberation of the western city of Khorramshahr, it was faced with a major strategic fork-in-the road whose costs of crossing it, they are still arguably paying for to this day. Much of the decision to cross the border and retaliate against Iraq by taking its territory was motivated by several flawed pre-conceived notions Iran had about Iraq at that time. Before 1982 it did not envision conservative Arab support for Saddam given his track record as a pan-Arab and socialist President in Iraq. For nearly a decade, during Pahlavi Iran there had always existed a dichotomy between the conservative Arab monarchies of the Persian Gulf and the secular and socialist Republics. These tensions in addition with Iran’s sincere belief that it’s “leadership was dedicated to spreading God’s word11” would make traditional non-Persian yet Islamic centers of -75-
power have no need to intervene. Next, the Iranians falsely believed that given enough pressure, Iraqi military officers would mount a coup against Saddam to end the war and establish an Islamic Republic12. Sentiments like these were drawn from Iran’s misperceptions and inabilities to sense the same nationalism that prevented Khuzestani Arabs living in Iran from defecting to the Iraqi side. Furthermore, overconfidence in their religious mission lead high-ranking clerics like Ayatollah Montazeri to tip the scales in this debate and push military leaders to hurry and invade. He stressed that “Iraq is in chaos, and we can go to Baghdad and finish this whole thing. There are some waiting to implement a coup as soon as we are in Iraq13.” In addition to the late Ayatollah Montazeri, who had earned a reputation for moderation during the June 2009 post-election crackdown, many other figures commented and spoke highly of invading. In fact, most of the clerical elite, who either now is in government or rotates in and out the conservative and moderate establishments, were in favor of the attack. Then President Khamenei (now the Velayat-e-Faqih) believed that, “After the enemy has returned within his own border, then it is our duty and obligation to exert ourselves until the nation of Iraq is delivered from the evil of oppressive powers and an Islamic government and republic have been founded14.”Clearly not afraid to mince words, Khamenei believed that in the absence of Saddam, the Iraqi’s would be free to assert their will and form a government similar to that of Iran. Looking at bi-lateral relations between Iran and Iraq today, we can infer with high confidence that Khamenei still believes this way. Other characters included Rafsanjani, the man in Iran synonymous with pragmatism. He believed that, “It is not enough to say we were not defeated. We have to strengthen the revolution and the interest of the revolution is to win the war and spread its ideas15.”More voices were added to this pro-invasion crescendo as the domestic and political costs of rejecting it in the early days of the Islamic Revolution seemed too high. Former presidential candidate Ali-Akbar Nateq Nouri said, “If we give an excuse to the enemy and end the war in the hope of not increasing fatalities, then we will merely be preparing ourselves for a longer war with more damages.16” Furthermore, while we know what course of action Iran took, it is interesting to see what media sources speak of which cleric/politician and position they took. “In Iran, most media outlets take the place of political parties17.” Given this absence of representation, each faction uses the media to prorogate its narrative and demand its political stake. The case of the Iran-Iraq war is no different. Hence, the case with historicizing the war effort dealt with concealed findings related to which one of the voices above was supported by the man of the hour, leader of the revolution, Imam Khomeini. Ahmad Khomeini, the son of the late leader asserts that the Imam was against the invasion, preferring to take the war reparations instead18. Meanwhile, analysts and historians in the states have had a hard time grappling with this subject. Ray Takeyh of CFR published a piece on the war in an MEI journal in 2010 claiming, “In today’s Islamic Republic one can rarely find a politician who does not claim that he had qualms about the invasion or even opposed it. In a grotesque act of historical revisionism, it is even suggested that at times Khomeini himself was against the move, and wanted to end the war19.” Ray Takeyh clearly does not believe that Khomeini was against the decision; most likely this opinion is derived from his numerous speeches chastising Saddam’s government and his high position as the sole arbiter of affairs. Ali Alfoneh of AEI on the other hand, very much believes that Ahmad Khomeini attempted to set the record straight, and even cites his appearance on September 22, 1991 interview with Payam-e Enghelab allegedly saying, “Concerning the issues of Khorramshahr the Imam believed that it was better to end the war, but those responsible for the war said that we must move towards Shat alArab (Arvand-Roud) so that we can demand war reparations from Iraq. The Imam did not at all agree with this issue and used to say that if you want to continue the war know that should the war continue with the situation that you have now and should you not succeed this war can’t be ended at all. We must continue to this war to a certain point. Now that the issue of liberation of -76-
Khorramshahr has occurred is the best time to end the war20." Which viewpoint is correct? To this day, we still do not have conclusive evidence as much as each scholar would like to allege that Ayatollah Khomeini was firmly in one camp or the other. While Alfoneh does go on to cite other individuals like Montazeri, we need to be aware of the possibility for figures like Montazeri, or Rafsanjani for that matter to historicize their legacy and politicize those of the IRGC. Furthermore, the pinnacle of his article is that the “IRGC which sacrificed Iran’s national interest and hundreds of thousands of Iranian lives for the sake of its expansionist organizational interests. 21” Sadly, when it comes to Iranian documents which could very well answer this debate, we have no archival or governmental notes to go off of. According to an article in Kayhan by Hojjat-ol-Eslam Ali Sa’idi, the Supreme Leader’s delegate to the IRGC, the matter of releasing Iran-Iraq era files is out of the question because “it will become politicized and used in factional disputes22.” What type of impact they would have is only something that we can speculate about.
Ending the War: A War of a Debate on its Own The war over how to leave Iraq by the Iranians in 1988 was shockingly reminiscent to me of the war over how to have an exit strategy and leave Iraq by the Americans in 2008. In spite of Iran’s enhanced security considerations and multiple successes in capturing the Al-Faw peninsula23, they were never able to fully capture, command, and control Basra24 as their operations intended. Furthermore, the war of attrition in the trenches between both sides from 1984 and on led to some of the greatest infantry clashes since WWII25 and significantly decreased morale on both sides. Adding to that a new shipment of French jets that brought Iran’s oil installations at Khark/Kharg island into striking range26 considerably changed the measure of risk the Islamic Republic would be willing to take during times of war. Contrary to popular belief, Iran did not want to escalate the war to this degree and knew the consequences of broadening the war to the Southern Persian Gulf and spoke out against the involvement of its neighbors, “Saddam’s policy is to bring the Persian Gulf states into the war, but we don’t want to destabilize the region27.” This ‘de-stabilization’ that Rafsanjani was talking about was one of the major fears of the Islamic Republic, except it was simply misnamed, it was the band-wagoning of the smaller Arab states of the Persian Gulf that would want to defend their oil exports at any cost. Actions taken by both Saudi Arabia and these smaller states included increasing “oil output to depress prices and damage Iran28” forcing Iran to “absorb the cost29” and threaten back, this time with Khomeini saying that the, “price of war is no less important to us then the price of oil30.” Naturally, Iran’s reactions were mixed, given the plethora of voices in the leadership and the lack of a nuanced regional approach. At one point in 1984, Iran simply ignored the fact that Saudi Arabia had “shot down an Iranian Aircraft31” all the meanwhile deciding to support opposition movements within each Gulf state32. But none of these actions were to have enough of an impact on Iran to end the war as the combined ferocity of the attacks from Iraq when it came to chemical weapons and the war of the cities. Feeling the brunt of missiles hitting cities from Dezful to Tehran33, the Iranian armed forces and population grew to become disenfranchised with the burden it was bearing for the war. Furthermore, the continued reliance on weapons of mass destruction, specifically mustard and nerve gas with what were often times followed by complete acknowledgement 34of it by Iraqi’s shocked the Iranians, who also learned of Washington’s sad ignorance in the matter. It was at this moment that the Iranian leadership truly felt alone and isolated, bearing the brunt of their revolution through a war that may have solidified its regime, but left it tremendously weakened without many natural allies. The inability of Iran to galvanize international pressure against Saddam at this point was indicative of how committed the world was -77-
in preventing the spread of it revolution. Shortly thereafter, the US even began a limited intelligence sharing program with Iraq. At that point – Iran felt as if it was fighting a regional and global power at the same time. This profoundly affected the Iranian national psyche, driving home the points about isolation. In the end, many of the actions taken by Iraq against Iran during the latter years of the Iran-Iraq war are used as justifications by Iran against the international community for cooperation. Iran’s security could only be guaranteed by itself, and international law would carry no weight. It is roughly around this time that Rafsanjani and Mousavi as a team began supporting the restarting of Iran’s defunct nuclear program which was a ‘strategic weapon35‘ according to Reza Amrullah, the former head of the Atomic Energy Organization. Only a weapon as large and devastating as that could deter the type of pain, suffering and isolation Iran felt at that point in time. The grand irony of all time however, is that in pursuit of this weapon, Iran has undergone much more isolation and suffering, but this time believes it is worth it and will not be easily persuaded by arguments within the International Atomic Energy Agency. Negotiations within the Iranian leadership had been forming via a “pragmatic coalition” of “Rafsanjani, Khamenei, members of the regular military and moderate clerical politicians36” who desired an end to the war due to its rapid internationalization and continued stalemate. Rafsanjani again took the initiative offering two ways to end the war, either through decapitation of the Ba’athist regime or through a political settlement at the Security Council.37Prevented by the IRGC to win the domestic debate over how to end the war, they asserted that, “The war will be decided on the battlefield and not on the conference table.38”From then on, the debate remains another archived mystery, getting the regime from intransigence to acceptance of 598 took the ‘accidental shooting down of an Iranian airliner in July 1988 by a US Naval vessel39‘ and skillful warning by Rafsanjani saying that, “The global arrogance has decided to prevent our victory.40”This misreading of an accident as a counter-value41strike on Iranian civilians really pushed the leadership over the edge. Continual misreading of signs is a hallmark of the Islamic Republic, but more importantly under times of stress and total-war, the significant time and resources cannot be given to letter cooler heads prevail. Most states do not have the time needed to calculate and as such must take every action at face value. It just so happened that the face-value of this strike helped put the pragmatic coalition over the top. However, the IRGC establishment still had not given up, having the commander, Rezaei, prepare a list of demands that according to Ali Alfoneh’s sources included, “almost unlimited resources…directed to the IRGC and the regular military, that Iran develops a nuclear bomb and manages to force the United States to leave the Persian Gulf42” To counter this, the former Prime Minister Mousavi who was in charge of the wartime budget and economy simply said that the government did not possess this money or capacity, serving as a “pivotal figure in ending the war43.” It was the sheer conglomeration of all these facts, both foreign and domestic which lead Ayatollah Khomeini to famously accept the cease-fire as proposed by the UN and “Drink from the poison chalice44.” Holistically speaking, the domestic debates in Iran about the war exposed the deep factional politics that had been a truism of the near decade long war with Iraq. It further solidified fears and perceptions of the United States by the Islamic Republic that had bordered on xenophobia. This lead to an enhancement of its paranoia and the feeling of being an underdog – especially when the balance tipped against Iran first regionally, then globally. Thus the Islamic Republic’s leadership who has endured through this war believes that nothing is sacred since they fought the war on the land, at sea, in the air, against dissident terrorism, at the oil market, against regional and global powers, endured economic duress and even suffered at the hands of chemical weapons. The Iran of today has internalized this experience and believes deep down that it was protected from annihilation but not granted victory. This helps to explain the somber mood of Ayatollah Khomeini who praises those who died in the -78-
war as martyrs but puts himself down for still being alive45. While many assert that it was a testing ground and the beginning of the purges of ideology in the realm of politics, I believe that the patterns of interactions and security dilemma’s faced by Iran during this time have become crystalized as part of the regimes narrative in place of its failure to export its revolution so early in the day. The attempts at moderation, pragmatism and reform of the 1990’s have moved Iran full circle towards a ‘conservative renaissance46‘ of the tactics and emotions of the late 80’s, best embodied by the ‘managed chaos47‘ that is the Iran-Iraq war.
Implications for Security: A Declassified Conflict A look at declassified American National Security documents from the CIA, DIA and DOS in addition to notes and memoranda reveal a different perspective of the Iran-Iraq war. As opposed to measuring or analyzing some psychological elements here, it is best to let the ascertained documents tell the story – if not for the sake of truth than for a better understanding of the American perceptions of the war. The National Security Council quickly identified the border clashes between Iran and Iraq as a means of escalation, citing Iraqi tanks leaving there border garrison on September 17th 198048. The memorandum correctly notes that Iran has already accused the US of supporting Iraqi aggression and could retaliate via the hostages. Another document just a few months later after the outbreak of the war speaks about possible fears of escalation into a wider conflict, fearing that the Gulf Arabs would ignore Tehran; prompting to strike the oil installations. At this point, the document correctly asses the ability of the Iranian Air Force to do this, but in fact, it would be the Iraqi’s who first bring the targeting of oil facilities into the scope of war. Furthermore, Kuwait has been identified numerous times with regards to shipping of oil and as a sponsor of Baghdad – which again accurately assess the Iranian ability to retaliate against Saddam’s backers49. Through mediums like the DCI to the NSC, the US was able to formulate policies and create reviews in order to keep tabs on the conflict and prevent one side from severely beating the other, thus altering the regional balance of power. A good inference into the US’s sophisticated and coordinated channels of communications give us an idea of where the Operation Praying Mantis, the famous re-flagging of Kuwaiti tankers could have been reacted to and conceived. Lastly, the piece underscores the Iranian paranoia and misperception of secret US security agreements with the UAE, therefore creating a red-line to limit itself and not attack them for fear of massive US appraisal. Documents coming from the DOS also continued to monitor the fighting, citing “Iranian control of the Gulf50” and “Iraq’s ultra-cautious advance51” in addition to their respective inabilities to “mount major offensive air operations on the northern front52.” Much US attention was given to a) maintaining the free flow of oil from the rest of the producing states, b) not allowing for a soviet intermediary/intervention and c) not drastically allowing one state to alter the balance of power. It is often against this backdrop that the Iranians began to entertain the notion that they would be unable to continue the war if the US massively intervened on the Iraqi side – yet they did notice the slight tilt after Iran invaded Iraq in 1982. Documents from 1982 suggest a sense of fear within the intelligence community, highlighting the threat of Iran crossing over into Iraq, changing the nature of the game and becoming the aggressor. The CIA was able to make use of a string of Iran’s military successes in order to game out it being the victor in this war53. Meanwhile DOS cables after this flawed CIA predication assert one unchangeable fact about the war between Iraq and Iran. That given the nature of the entire conflict, “Iraq can’t win, but need not lose. Iran can win, but probably won’t.54” The Intelligence community summarized its findings on the entire war in a DIA report on the methods, means and technologies used by both sides, to the best of my knowledge, it is the only report to -79-
prove the usage of an Iranian chemical agent against the Iraqi’s55, something that the narrative of the Islamic Republic has left out, and is hard to find for many Think-Tanks analysts here in DC.
Societal Impact Female Role: Understanding the ability of a war to take shape of a generation is no easy task. Every group in the society was said to have contributed in one shape or another to the war effort. A key part to study in the psychological implications of the Iran-Iraq War has been the role and sacrifice of women, whom the regime deems to be the natural maternal leaders of a pure Islamic society. According to the regimes narrative, in conjunction with Islamic traditions, women are the mothers and sisters of society, in this case being the ones who birthed the generation of martyrs. Much like the gap between the regimes narrative and reality, the role of women during the war varied greatly from region to region, as female nurses and even non-combatants joined the droves of people who were martyred in defense of their homeland. A new perspective from the Martyr and Veteran Foundation of the Islamic Revolution reports over 6000 females killed during the war56. Much of the information pertaining to the role of women in the war has not been part of the official narrative of the Islamic Republic. For over a generation, most of these women have not had the appropriate means or access to tell their stories as unadulterated and unfiltered because of the state media and their official version of war events. This is due to the magnanimity of the legacy of the Iran-Iraq war upon society, which has created spheres and roles for gender dynamics that are pre-set as a mold by the Islamic Republic to impress upon society. Regardless, women have impressed upon the government their legacies and stories through novels and memoirs. One such piece has caught the ire of the Martyrs Foundation, as it conflates the tale of a female heroine who takes to fighting after her husband is killed57. The only caveat is that she was part of the Fadiyan-e-Khalq, making the story for the Holy Defense of Iran a secular one, one that the Islamic Republics narrative cannot allow-and seemingly cannot comprehend. Basij Domination in Narrative Does Not Mean Basij Domination in Society: Another conflated issue between Iranian society and government is about the implications of the war for the Basij. What motivated people to enlist and become martyrs forced the government’s to make the definition of martyr quite elastic. While one can obviously point to religious fervor, nationalism and patriotism at a time like this, unknowingly, one will almost always use the Basij narrative, which permeated a culture of death throughout society through handouts 58and rallies. Indeed, the Basij did turn out to be the ideological bulk of volunteers that Iran often refers to as martyrs. Furthermore, the Basij’s training and indoctrination outside mosques59 was the main method of recruitment. This training further supported the nature of their military operations and what they were to be used for on the battle fields. But more important than that is what was revealed in a recent book on sociology, creating implications for more than one reason why the youngsters who would be called the Basij joined the war60. Whether it was out of piety or nationalism, the desire to get away or simply aspirations of war, each member had a different ideological and political motive for joining61, a motive which the regime itself conflates with the culture of martyrdom it propagated and in turn canonized as Iran’s self-less martyrs. Interesting enough, has been the study of opportunism within the movement, which crosses the regimes narrative of a selfless Muslim. Lastly, given our study on the psychology of the war on this generation, it is safe to say that the regime needs to take another look at the failed utopian ideals and narrative that the Basij helped promulgate if it wishes to view the Basij as emblematic of a cohesive national unit. But more importantly it needs to address the inability for -80-
broad swaths of society to concur with that narrative, speaking only of the “disillusionment of the Basij” in the modern day. Even today, the legacy of the dead and wounded has not escaped the modern body-politic of the regime. It is customary to visit graves like the Behesht-e-Zahra, where Khomeini gave his first speech in Iran after arriving to a crowd of three million62. Furthermore, the cemetery has a fountain within it that spews water with a red tint, symbolizing the blood of the martyrs, serving as a constant reminder to its populace of the Islamic Republic’s definition of sacrifice. Recently, Ayatollah Khamenei went on to praise not only those who have fought and died in the war, but those who lived and are disabled. Honoring their commitment, he spoke of those who sustained spinal cord injuries as “making a greater sacrifice than martyrs because they are constantly struggling with hardships and suffering extreme physical agony.63”This type of regime engagement with the public helps keep the narrative alive, that the Islamic Republic of Iran was, is, and will forever be in a state of revolution and war, requiring the sacrifice of its citizens to fuel itself. While society at large was not monolithic in its reaction to the war, their psychology varied in its gains, losses and assessment. Radically transformed, the war set a pre-formed mentality of an Islamic society upon people in order to make them conform to their ideological narrative, which as of recent was tested and vetted. Making the most of this over the years has been difficult given the multiplicity of views that exist on the war, and the well-known inner debates within the leadership about when and how to end the war. Much like the United States during the 60’s and 70’s, Iran was looking for a way to find, “Peace, with honor64.”
Conclusion: Lessons Learned, Narratives Enforced Scarred by invasion, drafts, a culture of martyrdom and a narrative of oppression; the IranIraq war literally left no segment of Iranian life untouched. It helped shape a narrative of conflict within the cosmos that has been used and abused by much of the Iranian elite who have been occupying the halls of power for over three decades. If the war has proven anything, it is that the staying power of a national myth does not require the entirety of the society to believe, but only a small sector to promulgate. The resounding success of Iran to use its history and narrative of the Iran-Iraq war will continue to haunt its foreign and domestic dealings whether it is about democratization of the nuclear issue. After all, it is important to note that perception is everything, and if Iran continues to perceive the international community as hostile and unchanged as 1988, then we are likely to see similar responses in its attempts to manage chaos, rally around the flag and be willing to die for Independence, Freedom and an Islamic Republic. 1
Quote, Dr, Seyyed Hossein Nasr. Fall 2011, The George Washington University. Right, Robin. “In the name of God: the Khomeini decade” Pg. 222 3 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 368 4 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 366 5 Chubin, Shahram and Tripp, Charles. “Iran and Iraq at War” Westview Press, 1998. Pg 38 6 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 366 7 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 366 2
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Khomeini, Ruhollah Musavi. “Imam invited the people and the Army of Iraq to rebel” Jumhuri-i-Islami, 11/25/1981 9 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 367 10 Takeyh, Ray. “Guardians of the revolution” Pg 97 11 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 368 12 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 372 13 “Why did the war continue?” www.Tabnak.com, 09/15/2008 14 Khamenei, Ali. “In the Friday’s school: A collection of Friday prayer sermons.” Tehran, Iran. 1982. Pg 333 15 “Members of Majlis: We will not accept negotiations with Iraq” Ittilia’at. 09/30/1981 16 “Natiq-Nouri: This is a war of destiny” Kayhan. 06/04/1981 17 Tabaar, Mohammad Ayatollahi. Class lecture. 11/09/2011 18 Alfoneh, Ali. “The war over the war”09/30/2010. http://www.aei.org/article/foreign-and-defensepolicy/regional/middle-east-and-north-africa/the-war-over-the-war/ 19 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 370 20 Alfoneh, Ali. “The war over the war”09/30/2010. http://www.aei.org/article/foreign-and-defensepolicy/regional/middle-east-and-north-africa/the-war-over-the-war/ 21 Alfoneh, Ali. “The war over the war”09/30/2010. http://www.aei.org/article/foreign-and-defensepolicy/regional/middle-east-and-north-africa/the-war-over-the-war/ 22 Sa’idi, Ali Hojjat-ol-Eslam. “N/A” Kayhan,09/24/2008. http;//www.kayhannews.ir/870631/7.htm#other1100 23 Global Security. “Iran-Iraq War (1980-1988)” 11/07/2011 http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/war/iran-iraq.htm 24 Farrokh, Kaveh. “Iran at war” 2011 Osprey Publishing. Pg 370 25 Farrokh, Kaveh. “Iran at war” 2011 Osprey Publishing. Pg 370 26 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 374 27 “Rafsanjani: The nations of the world must condemn Iraq as an aggressor and convene a court for its crimes” 04/02/1985, Kayhan 28 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 375 29 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 375 30 Chubin, Shahram and Tripp, Charles. “Iran and Iraq at war” Pg 173 31 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 375 32 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 375 33 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 374 34 Ramazani, Ruhollah. “Revolutionary Iran: Challenge and response in the middle east.” Baltimore, JHU press, 1986. Pg 72-88 35 Takeyh, Ray. “Gaurdians of the revolution” Pg. 243 36 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 381 -82-
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“Iran has rejected offers to end the war that did not entail designating an aggressor” Kayhan, 10/28/1987 “Revolutionary guards spokesman: It is time for all to unite for the defeat of the enemy” Kayhan, 06/08/1988 39 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 381 40 “The Majlis deputies express their opinion on acceptance of Resolution 598 by Iran” Kayhan, 07/19/1988 41 Counter-Value is a security policy term highlighting the deliberate usage of force against non-military targets in warfare 42 Alfoneh, Ali.“The war over the war”09/30/2010. http://www.aei.org/article/foreign-and-defensepolicy/regional/middle-east-and-north-africa/the-war-over-the-war/ 43 Takeyh, Ray. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reassessment” The Middle East Journal, Volume Number 64, No.3 Summer 2010. Pg 382 44 Khomeini, Ruhollah Mousavi. “The poison-chalice: The message of Ayatollah Khomeini on the occasion of accepting ceasfire 598” BBC Persian. 45 Khomeini, Ruhollah Mousavi. “The poison-chalice: The message of Ayatollah Khomeini on the occasion of accepting ceasfire 598” BBC Persian. http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100919_war30th_khomeini_end_war.shtml 46 Conservative Renaissance is a term I coined to describe the resurgence of conservatism and resurrection of ideology in both domestic and foreign politics. The era is best identified by a more militant and aggressive IRGC, an older but more authoritarian Khamenei and the presence of political figures who espouse Ahmadinejad’s type of rhetoric. 47 Tabaar, Mohammad Ayatollahi. Class lecture 11/16/2011 & 11/30/2011 48 DCI. “Alert Memorandum: Iran-Iraq Conflict” 09/17/1980. Approved for release 01/22/204 49 DCI. “Alert Memorandum, Iran-Iraq: Danger of a Wider War” 11/14/1980. Approved for release 01/20/2004 50 DOS, Bureau of Intelligence and Research. “Politico-Military Analyses: The Iran-Iraq Conflict: Status and Prospects” 02/131981. Declassified 02/13/2001 51 DOS, Bureau of Intelligence and Research. “Politico-Military Analyses: The Iran-Iraq Conflict: Status and Prospects” 02/131981. Declassified 02/13/2001 52 DOS, Bureau of Intelligence and Research. “Politico-Military Analyses: The Iran-Iraq Conflict: Status and Prospects” 02/131981. Declassified 02/13/2001 53 DCI. “Memorandum: Possible Outcomes and Implications of the Iran-Iraq War” 05/12/1988. Declassified 08/12/2002 54 DOS. “HLDG Briefing: Iran/Iraq War” April 1988 55 DIA. “The Iran-Iraq War: A Reference Aid” September 1988 56 Hosseinkhah, Maryam. “Unheard stories of women in war” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100922_l44_war30th_women_saeidi.shtml 09/27/2010. BBC Persian 57 Hosseinkhah, Maryam. “Unheard stories of women in war” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100922_l44_war30th_women_saeidi.shtml 09/27/2010. BBC Persian 58 Payvandy, Saeid. “Book Review: Who is a martyr, what is martyrdom” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100912_war30th_khousrowkhavar_martyr_iraq.shtml BBC Persian 59 Payvandy, Saeid. “Book Review: Who is a martyr, what is martyrdom” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100912_war30th_khousrowkhavar_martyr_iraq.shtml BBC Persian 38
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Payvandy, Saeid. “Book Review: Who is a martyr, what is martyrdom” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100912_war30th_khousrowkhavar_martyr_iraq.shtml BBC Persian 61 Payvandy, Saeid. “Book Review: Who is a martyr, what is martyrdom” http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/2010/09/100912_war30th_khousrowkhavar_martyr_iraq.shtml BBC Persian 62 Takeyh, Ray. “Guardians of the revolution” Pg 22 63 “Leader honors disabled war veterans” Ettela’at. 12/2/2011 64 Attributed to President Nixon
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China’s Short Range Missile Force and the Challenge of Negotiated Constraint Lawson Ferguson and Jacob Schindler, Georgetown University Introduction As Western defense budgets are slashed by harsh fiscal austerity measures and China continues to expand its military spending by upwards of 10% each year, pundits and policymakers have begun to raise concerns about the capabilities and intentions of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to project force outside its borders into flashpoints such as the South China Sea. To be sure, China’s military spending remains a fraction of American military spending, but PLA modernization is nevertheless an important field of study for defense planners on China’s periphery and in the West. Much public attention has been cast on high-profile PLA programs such as its first aircraft carrier, its next-generation ICBMs, and its DF-21D ballistic missile, the so-called ‘carrier-killer.’ Under the aegis of the Georgetown University Government Department’s Asian Arms Control Project, we will examine China’s proliferation of a lesser-known, but nevertheless important weapons system: the short range ballistic missile (SRBM), as well as prospects for arms control in this area. Over the past ten years, the PLA made a substantial investment in its arsenal of SRBMs. China has grown its missile force with such rapidity that its implications for the strategic balance in the region are still not fully realized. In addition to a large quantitative buildup, the PLA has continuously improved upon its force qualitatively, producing variants with longer ranges and more accurate guidance systems. The pattern of PLA SRBM deployment also presents a problem. Nearly all SRBM units are deployed to the Nanjing Military Region, opposite the Taiwan Straits. The government of Taiwan understandably feels threatened by this aggressive deployment, as do U.S. Military facilities in the area. SRBMs pose a challenge to security because of their inherently offensive nature and the difficulty of terminal phase ballistic missile interception with present technology. In view of this threat to American allies and assets, it would be prudent for the United States to start thinking about SRBMs as a candidate for negotiated constraint with China. This is a challenging undertaking because the United States lacks any symmetric systems with which to negotiate a mutual drawdown. However, the United States should explore more creative solutions for convincing China to reduce its missile force. The threats posed by China’s SRBM arsenal are so significant that it would be irresponsible for the United States not to work toward an asymmetric agreement that reduces or eliminates that arsenal. The first section will provide an overview of the weapons technology we seek to control. SRBMs are defined as ballistic missiles with a range of less than 1000 kilometers. The PLA’s Second Artillery, the unit that operates ballistic missiles, has two such systems, known as Dongfeng 11 and Dongfeng 15. We will trace the development of these systems, relying on technical specifications used by the Department of Defense and Intelligence Community, as each has undergone significant modernization since its introduction. We will also chart the quantitative proliferation of PLA SRBMs, which underwent significant growth in the first decade of the 21st Century, both in absolute -85-
terms, and relative to other PLA missile systems. Since tactical nuclear weapons (TNWs) have recently become a central issue in bilateral Russo-American arms control efforts, we will also assess the possibility that China may maintain a tactical nuclear arsenal, deliverable, among other means, by SRBM. While the evidence on this question is not conclusive, the answer is of crucial importance to arms control efforts, including those which do not directly involve China, such as a potential followon to New START. The second section will address why U.S. policymakers should care about Chinese SRBM proliferation. The most compelling reason why states pursue arms control is to reduce a threat to themselves. In order to illustrate the salience of the SRBM threat, we will sketch several scenarios where they could significantly damage the interests of the U.S. or its allies. Since nearly all Chinese SRBMs are deployed to the Nanjing Military Region, many of these scenarios involve a hypothetical conflict over the Taiwan Strait and Taiwan. Hypothesis generation is a necessarily speculative exercise, but we have relied on two categories of sources: the first is unclassified defense planning reports from both the U.S. and the Taiwanese militaries. The second is official PLA manuals, which provide insight into the PLA’s doctrine for deployment and use of SRBMs in various types of military campaigns. The third and final section will address prospects for arms control — whether avenues exist for the United States to negotiate Chinese constraint in the area of SRBMs. There are several obstacles, however, to convincing China to reduce its short-range arsenal, whether through a formal treaty or informal constraint. First is the lack of analogous missile systems in the U.S. military. The United States got rid of all of its short-range missile forces and most of its tactical nuclear weapons due to the 1987 Intermediate Nuclear Forces Treaty and the 1991 unilateral declaration aimed at eliminating TNWs by George H.W. Bush. The impossibility of making reciprocal cuts to equivalent systems can be expected to make any arms control effort complex and contentious. Even more worrying is the fact that Russia, despite also issuing a parallel unilateral declaration in 1991, still has a large number of TNWs. Russia’s conspicuous failure to give up TNWs makes any bilateral SinoAmerican agreement on short-range systems very unlikely to succeed. But the problem cuts both ways— China’s huge number of short and medium range ballistic missile systems, along with its possible tactical nuclear arsenal, is a major contributor to Russian intransigence on the issue of TNWs in bilateral negotiations with the United States. Trilateral talks and arms reductions may be the only solution.
Short-Range Ballistic Missile Systems of the PLA Over the past ten years, the People’s Liberation Army has made a substantial investment in its arsenal of short-range ballistic missiles. The PLA deploys two missile systems in this range category: the shorter ranged Dongfeng-11s, and the longer ranged Dongfeng-15s. Each of these systems has undergone substantial numerical proliferation, and been improved with at least one follow-on variant. From their inception, both systems have been designed with major consideration being given to mobility and the ability to launch rapidly in crisis conditions. While both systems are rated by the PLA as nuclear capable, we presume that the majority of the missiles are armed with high explosive conventional warheads. However, there are a number of unconventional warheads that may be carried by each missile.
DF-11 Specifications -86-
The DF-11 is a single stage missile in the tactical, or short-range class. With a maximum range of at least 300 km, it is the shortest-range ballistic missile deployed by the PLA, but it can still reach coastal targets, notably Taiwan.1 Wang Zhenhua began designing and developing the DF-11 in 1975 for the Sanjiang Space Group, a PLA contractor that is part of the China Aerospace Science and Industry Corporation (CASIC).2 CASIC completed design of the missile in 1984, it was demonstrated to the PLA several years later, and it was successfully test launched in 1990.3 The Second Artillery acquired it in small numbers in the early 1990s, and immediately began developing a follow-on variant that became the DF-11A. This improved version entered service in 1999, and has an extended range that is reportedly between 500 and 700 km. In addition, it has a more advanced guidance system, including eight fins at the bottom and middle sections for course correction in the final phase of flight. Using an inertial guidance system and a GPS system, developers were able to increase the accuracy from a circular error probability (CEP) of 500-600 meters, to one of just around 200 meters.4 Second Artillery may also have added optical correlation terminal targeting to the DF-11’s guidance system; if this were the case, the CEP would be reduced to 20-30 meters.5 Most DF-11s operated by Second Artillery are probably the DF-11A variant, as the missiles were not deployed in large numbers until after the follow-on missile had been successfully tested. Like most other Second Artillery missiles, the DF-11 is road-mobile on 8X8 transportererector-launcher trucks (TELs). Both the TELs and the missiles themselves resemble the Soviet SCUD-B system, which they were designed to replace and compete with on the export market.6 In addition to being highly mobile, the missiles are solid-fueled, significantly reducing prep time before launch.7 The TELs, stored in a strategic tunnel complex, could be driven out to predetermined launch sites, where missiles could be launched in approximately 15-30 minutes. The missile could be launched with pre-loaded coordinates specific to its prepared launch sites, or in the event of an emergency, it could be driven to a new launch site and use GPS to calculate a new flight path. Operationally, the PLA wanted to deploy the DF-11 alongside ground units in a conventional role to bridge the gap in range between theater ballistic missiles and artillery cannons.8 For this role, each 7.5 meter DF-11A could carry a single 500 kg conventional high explosive warhead. The earlier iteration of the DF-11 reportedly carried a larger 800 kg HE warhead. The less accurate DF-11 could be used to strike military targets in a large battlefield area or to bombard civilian areas in the range gap between artillery and theater missiles.9 Other types of nonconventional warheads that may be deliverable via the DF-11 include fuel-air explosive (FAE) warheads, sub-munitions, chemical agents, or a tactical nuclear warhead in the two to twenty kiloton range.10
DF-15 Specifications The DF-15 is the other component of China’s short-range ballistic missile arsenal. The basic variant is a single stage missile with a range of about 600 km. Development of the DF-15 began in the mid 1980s; along with the DF-11 it makes up the “M series” (export versions are labeled the M11 and M-9, respectively) and was aimed at the export market. Compared to its little brother the DF11, the DF-15 is larger, heavier, and longer ranged. The missile underwent a series of test launches in the Gobi Desert beginning in 1987 and lasting through the early 1990s. Though impossible to confirm, reports have stated that the DF-15 was tested with a nuclear warhead during this battery of tests.11 A single brigade of DF-15s entered service around 1990.12 At least two follow-on variants have been identified. The DF-15B features more advanced guidance systems for improved accuracy, and it is identifiable by the four fins added to its midsection, which allow for in-flight course -87-
adjustments.13 The DF-15C has a second stage for extended range; it may be able to carry a lighter warhead in the range of about 800 km.14 Second Artillery has continually improved the accuracy of the DF-15 with updates to its guidance package. The original variant had a CEP of between 300 and 600 meters. The newer guidance systems use a strap-down inertial guidance system on the warhead section, paired with a faster on-board computer system, which guides the trajectory of the missile using small thrusters. 15 One estimate of the accuracy of new variants place their CEP at about 280 meters, 16 while others suggest it may be anywhere between 150 and 500 meters.17 There are several avenues by which it has been proposed the Second Artillery may seek to further improve the accuracy of the DF-15 in the future. The accuracy could certainly be improved by integrating the missile with a satellite based navigation and positioning system, whether that is GPS or the planned Chinese “Compass” navigation system.18 In addition, faster computers, a next-generation ring laser gyroscope device for inertial guidance, and a terminal phase radar guidance system are all being developed by the PLA.19 With these new technologies, the CEP of the DF-15 could be improved to 30 to 45 meters.20 Like the DF-11, the DF-15 is road-mobile on an 8X8 TEL, and solid-fueled for quick preparation and launch times. The earliest variant of the DF-15 was advertised at an Asian defense show as having a 30 minute reaction time.21 It can also be transported by rail from bases to launch locations where a TEL could pick it up and drive it to the launch site.22 Since pre-designated launch sites may be visible on satellite and thus known to enemies, even the highly mobile TEL-based missile launch system could be vulnerable to preemption. To counteract this threat, the DF-15’s support units can use GPS to calculated new coordinates for an emergency launch from a new location.23 Additionally, units could deploy smoke cover or use various decoys to disguise the true launch location of each actual missile. During the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis, when China infamously conducted several DF-15 test launches just 60 km northwest of Taiwan, DF-15 units taking part in the exercise were mobilized 60 hours prior to launch time, and the TELs and their support vehicles drove several hundred kilometers to reach their launch sites.24 Based on that operating procedure, it will be possible to tell when the Chinese missile force is mobilizing, but difficult to know the destination of each TEL, and how much time is remaining before launch. Another important takeaway from the 1995 exercise is that there was an approximate one-hour reload time when two missiles were launched from the same TEL.25 China has advertised the DF-15’s operational capability as being launched at fixed or slowly moving targets, including troops, tanks, airfields, and missile launch sites.26 It carries a single warhead and has a launch weight of 6,200kg. The standard conventional warhead is a 500kg highexplosive warhead. As mentioned above, Second Artillery Corps may have conducted tests of DF15s with nuclear warheads. It is certain that China has the capability to manufacture nuclear warheads of the requisite size and yield for use with tactical ballistic missiles. Other nonconventional warheads probably already in stock are high-explosive incendiaries and armor-piercing cluster warheads. The PLA is reportedly developing advanced warheads such as mine-laying, electromagnetic shockwave, and low-yield nuclear deep penetration warheads.27 The DF-15 has a terminal velocity greater than 2 km/s, and after the warhead separates from the missile body, the body is designed to trail behind it in order to camouflage the much smaller warhead in the terminal phase.28 These features make terminal phase interception by ballistic missile defense systems difficult.
Proliferation and Deployment
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Since the late 1990s, the PLA has dramatically increased the quantity of short-range ballistic missiles deployed on Mainland China, measured both in terms of missiles, and in terms of launchers. The Department of Defense currently estimates that there are at least 1,050 SRBMs attached to 210 launchers deployed to locations near Taiwan.29 One full brigade of DF-15s became operational around 1990 and was deployed opposite Taiwan in the Nanjing Military Region. The brigade consisted of just two-dozen missiles or so and a handful of launchers. By 1999 however, China’s intentions to significantly build up its missile force across the Taiwan Strait began to worry U.S. defense planners. A February 1999 Pentagon report to Congress concluded that the PLA was building a major ballistic missile force in Southeastern China, and that it would have an “overwhelming advantage” over Taiwanese defenses by 2005.30 The report was released just a few days before Secretary of State Madeline Albright made an official visit to Beijing. Sino-American relations were also tense because an unclassified version of the Cox Report had recently raised concerns about Chinese espionage at U.S. National Laboratories. Albright talked to Chinese leadership about the missile issue, attempting to reassure them about U.S. missile defense plans in East Asia, and pressing them to curb ballistic missile proliferation opposite Taiwan and sign on to the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR).31 Despite the Secretary’s warnings, China’s SRBM arsenal continued to grow, and the predictions of the Pentagon’s February report were largely borne out. Between 1999 and 2000, the number of SRBM launchers estimated to be deployed by China shot up from only a handful to nearly 50. A little over half of the new launchers were for DF-11s, and the remainder were DF-15s. Around 2005, the number of launchers spiked severely again. DF15 launchers grew from around two dozen to just under 100. DF-11 launchers similarly quadrupled from about 25 to over 100. Whereas in 1999, only a handful of SRBM launchers sat across from Taiwan, by 2005 that number was around 200. Since the midpoint of the last decade, the number of PLA SRBMs and launchers has leveled off, according to Defense Department estimates. The most recent Pentagon report to Congress on the military power of China estimated that the PLA has deployed between 700 and 750 DF-11 missiles on 120-140 launchers.32 It also estimates between 350 and 400 DF-15 missiles on 90-110 DF-15 launchers.33 This yields a low-range estimate of 1,050 missiles, all of which are thought to be deployed in Southeastern China. There are at least five Second Artillery Corps brigades that are thought to deploy DF-11 and DF-15 missiles, all of which are based in the Nanjing Military Region (MR).34 In addition, there are two SRBM brigades subordinate to PLA ground forces, one in Nanjing MR and one in Guangzhou MR.35 There are some reports that, contrary to the Pentagon’s assertion that all SRBM units are opposite Taiwan, there is one brigade of DF-15s based at Tonghua, near the North Korean border.36
A Tactical Nuclear Arsenal? The subject of tactical nuclear weapons (TNWs) in China’s arsenal remains a subject of contention. While there is substantial evidence that China has at least developed the technology to create a tactical nuclear arsenal, many observers question whether China has an interest in producing more than a token number of such devices. China has never officially confirmed its possession of TNWs. This could signal either a wish not to undermine the credibility of China’s No First Use policy, or a genuine disinterest in TNWs. Evidence suggesting a tactical nuclear capability falls into three categories: testing and technological developments, writings in Chinese military journals and statements by PLA officials, and training exercises involving tactical nuclear warfare. China’s nuclear program is undoubtedly advanced enough to produce a full tactical nuclear arsenal if its leadership desired. The track record of Chinese nuclear weapons testing certainly suggests a trend -89-
toward warhead miniaturization. Beginning in 1975, China began to test warheads of sub-20 kiloton yield with increasing frequency. From that point until China ceased testing of nuclear weapons in 1996, at least 12 of China’s 28 nuclear tests were conducted at low yields.37 From 1992 to 1996, China tested a series of smaller, lighter warheads.38 After 1982, every Chinese nuclear test was conducted underground, strongly suggesting efforts at warhead miniaturization.39 In 1988, China tested what is widely believed to have been a 1-5kt enhanced radiation warhead (ERW), or neutron bomb.40 In addition to indigenous research, Chinese advances in the area of warhead miniaturization were probably aided by a series of espionage efforts within U.S. national laboratories. A U.S. House Select Committee was created to investigate such efforts, and concluded that China had stolen designs for seven of the U.S.’s most advanced nuclear warheads.41 According to the report, the espionage began in the late 1970s, when China concluded that its warhead technology was only as advanced as U.S. warheads of the 1950s. By the late 1970s, China had acquired design information on the W70 warhead, a tactical nuclear warhead designed for the Lance missile, an American SRBM.42 One variant of the W70 was an ERW a blast yield of just 1kt, but devastating radiation effects. In 1996, years after China had reportedly tested its first enhanced radiation warhead, the Intelligence Community reported that China had stolen additional classified technology on the neutron bomb in the 1990s.43 If China has foregone creating a tactical nuclear arsenal, technological and design barriers seem unlikely to have been the cause. Chinese military writings have had much to say about tactical nuclear weapons, going back as far as 1961, when the battlefield use of nuclear weapons was first addressed in a classified doctrinal document written by the PLA General Political Department.44 Throughout the post-Mao period, the PLA News continued to publish the conclusions of PLA leadership on tactical nuclear warfare, which have addressed not just defending against a tactical nuclear attack, but also launching nuclear counter-offensives.45 Most of these works focused on the possibility of a Soviet invasion utilizing TNWs. According to Chong-Pin Lin’s analysis of PLA publications, “in the period from 1977 to 1979, the Chinese leadership and defense scientists expressed an unusual degree of fascination with the ERW.”46 This period of time roughly coincides with the Cox Report’s estimate of when the design information on the W70 was acquired by China from U.S. labs. Soviet media also reported that China was working on a neutron bomb in 1977. A 1981 article in PLA News highlighted the ERW’s utility and cost-effectiveness, pointing out that one ERW could incapacitate hundreds of advancing Soviet Tanks, at a cost of just $900,000.47 The presence and abundance of all these writings suggests that the PLA formed an official tactical nuclear doctrine, and disseminated it through discourses in major PLA publications.48 Another category of circumstantial evidence for the existence of a Chinese tactical nuclear force is the frequency with which the PLA has simulated the use of TNWs in combat exercises. In January of 1979, the PLA first simulated defense against a TNW-armed attacker.49 In 1980, the PLA conducted an offensive exercise in which it simulated a PLA attack on an enemy defensive position using a 5-kt warhead in the initial phase of a war.50 The simulation of a 5-kt explosion suggests that China was confident in its ongoing efforts to develop miniaturized warheads. One particularly large military exercise took place south of the Mongolian border in June of 1982. The exercise was complete with simulated TNW airbursts and mushroom clouds. An officer who took part in the exercise stated “our troops’ nuclear strike capability zeroed in on the targets, took the enemy by surprise and dealt his artillery positions and reserve forces a crushing blow.”51 The fact that China simulated not only defense against tactical nuclear attacks, but PLA offensive and counter-offensive use of tactical nuclear warheads suggest that Chinese tactical nuclear doctrine is much more than just a collection of writings in military journals. Despite the above evidence, some scholars remain skeptical of the idea that China possesses any significant tactical nuclear arsenal. This school of thought posits that China would not develop -90-
systems geared toward nuclear warfighting because they have adopted what some call a “minimum deterrent” stance, essentially relying on a small number of strategic nuclear weapons and eschewing a tactical arsenal. Jeffrey Lewis, for example, points out that the DIA has reported no evidence confirming production or deployment of tactical nuclear weapons (even though it estimated China to have around 50 Atomic Demolition Munitions).52 Lewis acknowledges PLA military writings on tactical nuclear warfare, China’s track record of low-yield nuclear tests, and military exercises simulating tactical nuclear use. He points out, though, that none of these pieces of evidence necessarily means that China has produced tactical nuclear warheads in large quantities. This is obviously true, though neither does the absence of evidence provide evidence of absence. The fact of the matter is that due to the opacity of China’s nuclear forces, nobody using open sources can be confident of their contents.
Possible elements of a short-range nuclear arsenal The circumstantial evidence surrounding China’s interest in tactical nuclear weapons gives us some clues as to what a Chinese tactical nuclear arsenal might look like. There is no question that China has the technological capacity to arm its SRBM force with nuclear warheads. China’s unusual interest in enhanced radiation warheads might be indicative of how it might operationalize its DF-15s and DF-11s as a dual use force. The principle behind enhanced radiation weapons is to minimize the effects of heat and blast, so that the impact of the weapon comes almost entirely from prompt radiation. Warhead miniaturization is the key technological advance needed to attain this technology. The relationship between blast and heat effects and prompt radiation effects is not proportional, as shown by the chart at right.53 Because prompt radiation is attenuated to the cube, the reduction of conventional explosive effects to the subkiloton range causes radiation becomes the dominant weapon effect.54 Detonated several thousand feet above ground, the prompt radiation will reach the ground level, while the conventional explosion will not. This proves lethal for unsheltered people in the blast radius, but avoids damage to buildings, vehicles, and infrastructure. The effectiveness of an enhanced radiation warhead used against personnel is about the same as that of a nuclear fission warhead with a ten times greater yield.55 Development of enhanced radiation warheads and more accurate guidance systems for a short-range ballistic missile force would make it possible to conduct nuclear attacks against military facilities with precision and discretion, and little infrastructural damage. -91-
The development of new indigenous artillery systems could also play a role in a PLA tactical nuclear force. China’s newest generation of artillery is made up of the PLZ05 and the PLL05. The PLZ05 is a self-propelled Howitzer with a caliber of 155mm. The PLZ is the first Chinese artillery system to use the Western standard caliber of 155mm (the 120mm PLL 05 does as well), in contrast to the system it is replacing, which took 152mm shells that were the old Soviet standard.56 There are several reasons why China might choose to undergo the long and expensive process of converting to the Western caliber standard. The most likely reason is that China wants to make its artillery systems more attractive in the foreign arms market. In particular, China may seek to sell these systems to customers in the Middle East. A second reason might be that China wishes to buy more advanced Western-produced ammunition for its artillery. Regardless, the 155mm Howitzer might be a better candidate for use as a dual-use artillery system than its predecessors. This is especially true if China in fact obtained design information about American nuclear artillery shells. While China probably developed tactical nuclear warheads for use against Soviet tank columns on the Russo-Chinese frontier, the present deployment of short-range missile systems suggests a different current orientation. The Chinese have deployed their SRBM arsenal as a coercive tool against Taiwan, which raises serious questions about whether a dual-capable force would be something China wants or needs. After all, Taiwan is a small island, and the Chinese consider it part of their country. Thus, China using DF-15s equipped with nuclear warheads—enhanced radiation or otherwise—to obliterate the island is an unlikely strategy. Thus, as long as the vast majority of Chinese SRBMs are deployed in the Nanjing MR, we can probably assume they have not been operationalized as a dual-use force (the Taiwanese military planning documents we examine below bear out this assumption). Nevertheless, the fact that dual-use technologies for these systems have almost certainly been developed, tested, and produced in unknown numbers is a major arms control concern, and would become even moreso if China were to deploy SRBMs to more nuclear-friendly battlespaces such as the Siberian frontier.
The impact of SRBMs in China’s neighborhood China has large borders and a lot of neighbors that are well within range of its shortrange ballistic missile force. However, by placing the vast majority of its SRBM force in the southeast, China has confirmed what many have been saying for a long time—its primary target right now for these DF-15s and DF-11s is Taiwan. Some reports do indicate that a DF-15 missile brigade might be located in Tonghua—and therefore within range of Seoul—with the 816th brigade of the second artillery, although a 2010 Department of Defense report states that “all [Chinese] SRBM units are deployed to locations near Taiwan.”57 Regardless of whether or not the Chinese do indeed have DF-15s in Tonghua, that deployment pales in comparison to what is stationed in the Southeast. The Second Artillery has 12 DF-15/DF-11 missile units in Southeast China, the vast majority of which are within striking range of Taiwan, as the map to the right shows.58 -92-
In 1995 and 1996, the Chinese conducted missile tests in the Taiwan straits, proving to themselves and the rest of the world that they had the capability to hit Taiwan.59 The Taiwanese are very cognizant of the threat that China’s strategic missile arsenal poses, as a report published in 2008 shows. While the report written by colonels Wang Fei-sheng and Wu Hsiao-pao does not address the impact that Chinese strategic missile strikes could have on the civilian population of Taiwan, its focus on the Taiwanese airforce provides ample insight into how China could use a relatively small portion of its rocket forces to incapacitate the Taiwanese air force and increase its conventional advantage over the Taiwanese military. Ignoring nuclear capabilities completely, the two authors estimate that “[the Chinese] will need about 50 to 60 guided missiles to completely disable the operations of an airport. We have 10 major military airports.... [so] they will need only about 500 to 600 short-to-medium range guided missiles to do the job.”60 The Chinese already have access to more than sufficient missiles according to the most recent Department of Defense report, which estimates the Chinese have anywhere between 1050-1150 SRBMs, most of which are DF-11s. Thus, the limiting factor for the Chinese is actually their launchers, which number only 210 -250 according to that same report.61 With launch preparation times for both the DF-15 and DF-11 estimated at 1530 minutes, this would give the Taiwanese airforce just 90 minutes to scramble fighters, assuming a best-case Taiwanese scenario of the Chinese taking 30 minutes per launch and having to launch three full waves to knock all ten military airports out of commission. In essence, a quick ballistic missile strike against Taiwan would have much the same effect of an American stealth bomber strike against any target: the missiles, particularly the DF-15, would be hard to detect, let alone intercept and would arrive at a target in a relatively short period of time. As Dr. Roger Cliff wrote in 2010 testimony to Congress “reduced warning time and assured penetration capability are provided by stealth aircraft [in the U.S. military],” but for countries like China, which lack similar stealth capabilities, “conventional ballistic missiles are a logical way of achieving the same effects, at least against targets on its immediate periphery.”62 The longer the Chinese J-20 stealth fighter takes to become operational—photos of an alleged prototype apparently undergoing some late-stage tests surfaced on the internet in January 2011—the more likely it is that Chinese DF15s and DF-11s would play a prominent role in any attack on Taiwan. Even if the J-20 turns out to rival the American F-22 and the Chinese are able to produce it in mass quantities, it would be unwise to ignore the likelihood that the Chinese use their short-range ballistic missiles in some capacity or another. The Taiwanese missile defense systems are woefully inadequate to deal with such an attack, and Wang and Wu are particularly pessimistic about their country’s ability to intercept the DF-15, which was designed with enhanced stealth capabilities in mind. Conventional attacks would not inflict significant permanent damage on the airports, but the problem is that for a significant period of time, China would suddenly have the advantage of massive air superiority. As the authors say, “The follow-up attacks by mainland aircraft will completely wipe out any air supremacy we have had in he sky over Taiwan. This ‘five-minute missile attack’ will render our fighter jets completely useless. As a result, we will become totally dominated strategically by the enemy.”63 Due to the vastly superior size of the PLA, Taiwan’s task would be enormously difficult even if it could achieve even an approximation of parity in the air. But a missile strike similar to the one that the authors dread would essentially give the Chinese air superiority for the duration of any conflict, which makes it an appealing option. Particularly alarming is the fact that all of these estimates are based on the supposition that the Chinese will only use conventional weapons—while the Taiwanese clearly believe that the Chinese do not have to go nuclear in order to neutralize their air force, it is still acknowledged as a possibility. The use of EMP/FAE/enhanced radiation bomb technology could greatly increase the efficacy of each individual missile in certain types of offensive campaign, and -93-
given that China lacks 500-600 launchers, use of nonconventional weapons could essentially guarantee China success without launching hundreds of missiles. There is some question as to whether the Chinese would want to use nuclear weapons on Taiwan—an island that they regard as an integral part of the Middle Kingdom. Compounding the difficulty of justifying a nuclear attack, it would be near impossible to frame attacking Taiwan as a measure of self-defense given the noted lack of Taiwanese aggression over the years. Military and efficiency considerations might win out over moral objections, however, particularly if enhanced radiation warheads are used. Using such weapons would limit both the collateral damage and the long-term effects of a nuclear strike while rapidly destroying the Taiwanese military’s ability to respond to a missile strike. From a purely practical standpoint, employing enhanced radiation warheads would allow the Chinese to wipe out large concentrations of the Taiwanese military while refraining from destroying buildings and other infrastructure that could prove invaluable in the subsequent rebuilding process. The threat that DF-15s and DF-11s pose to Taiwan is magnified by the threat other parts of the Chinese arsenal pose to the American Navy. The presence of Chinese cruise missiles and the DF-21D missile should give any navy, even the most powerful navy in the world, pause when maneuvering around the coast of China, and this threat would clearly only be magnified if tensions with Taiwan are elevated or outright fighting breaks out. In 1996, then- U.S. Air Force Chief of Staff, General Ronald R. Fogelman said before congress: “saturation ballistic missile attacks against littoral forces, ports, airfields, storage facilities and staging areas could make it extremely costly to project US forces into a disputed theater, much less carry out operations to defeat a well-armed aggressor. Simply the threat of such enemy missile attacks might deter US and coalition partners from responding to aggression in the first place.”64 Not only does the U.S. Navy have immense value as a symbol of American power, its power-projection capabilities are vitally important to U.S. foreign policy and the feeling of safety for American allies. But now it seems that the combination of cruise missiles and DF-21D carrier-killer missiles could serve as a massive deterrent to any navy hoping to conduct operations with effective cruise missile/DF-21D range suddenly has a lot more to worry about. And, unfortunately, China’s carrier-killing capacity only increases the likelihood of an attack on Taiwan, since the rest of its arsenal effectively guarantees some sort of hesitation on the part of Taiwanese allies, making a quick, relatively bloodless victory that much more likely. Were the Chinese to continue expanding their launcher capacity in the Southeast, it is eminently possible that damage done by a single wave of missile launches at Taiwan combined with the anti-access capability that China has out past the First Island Chain could practically preclude any military counter maneuvers by the United States by presenting a fait accompli situation just a few hours into an attack. Fogelman’s statement, which was not made about China, takes on special significance in the case of Taiwan because of China’s recent declaration that it considers, among other things, everything within the First Island Chain to be part of its sovereign territory. This is particularly alarming in the case of Taiwan because the official Chinese “no first use” nuclear policy does not apply to self-defense. By that logic, it is not hard to see the PLA targeting naval units attempting to come to Taiwan’s rescue during any conflict before those navies have fired a shot at any Chinese forces. A November 2010 report to Congress states “the PLA’s current missile force alone may be sufficient to close down U.S. air bases in the region in the event of a conflict between China and the United States.”65 Much like Wang and Wu, the report estimates the Chinese would only need 30-50 conventional missiles to render American bases useless for flight operations. -94-
As the graph below—taken from the aforementioned 2010 report to Congress— shows, there are two American military bases within range of the DF-15 and DF-11A, and another that is very close to being within range. While it is possible that China might elect to use cruise missiles or larger ballistic missiles to attack these bases, the fact is that its SRBM force poses a potentially policy-altering threat to two American bases: unfortunately for the U.S. military “if aircraft carriers near Taiwan and airbases in Japan and South Korea can be attacked (or threatened to the extend that the U.S. is politically unable to utilize them)... operations from more distant locations such as Guam become the only remaining option.”66
The potential impact of China’s strategic missile arsenal is not limited to Taiwan, of course. Chinese SRBMs could play a decisive role should war break out on the Korean peninsula—as the one brigade in Tonghua could do already, if it is in fact equipped with DF-15s— or in any other of China’s neighbors. Just because the Chinese have currently based their SRBM force structure around the apparent targeting of Taiwan does not mean that the Chinese are unaware of the force DF-15s and DF-11s can project and the damage they can do on other fronts. Despite the fact that they are concentrated in Southeast China right now, these are by no means Taiwan-specific weapons in the long term. Ballistic missiles are intrinsically offensive weapons; the only defensive value they have is as a second-strike force, and nothing currently within the range of the DF-11s or DF-15s is valuable enough to be a real deterrent should the few countries with major nuclear stockpiles decide to go -95-
after China. Chinese nuclear deterrence rests on its intercontinental weapons; it is its shorter-range dual-use arsenal that can be more reliably and believably used as a coercive tool. As a 2010 report to Congress noted, “ballistic missiles are... inherently coercive in nature. Because most of China’s neighbors lack adequate defenses against China’s ballistic missiles, China may enjoy coercive leverage against them... this coercive nature allows China to deter its neighbors from taking certain actions without actually firing a shot.”67
China’s Strategic Outlook The position of China’s missiles and the threats that its potential enemies perceive provide plenty of fodder for analysis on their own. That analysis, though, can only be further informed by China’s own strategic expectations and the way the military views its own military force. Recently translated PLA strategy manuals contains unique insight into the way China views its own missile forces and the way the PLA thinks its capabilities are best applied. PLA missile strategy is largely informed by the way the Chinese military has analyzed past bombing and missile campaigns. The bombing campaigns of World War II are viewed as particularly influential, and the US military’s use of cruise missiles at the beginning of the Gulf War is also singled out for its impact on missile strategy: “the last stage of WWII represented the initial form of a missile force campaign.”68 The Chinese were impressed not just by the damage done by historic bombings campaigns, but also by the effort the defenders were forced to put into missile/air defense and the negative impact successful strikes had on the morale of the citizenry. Particularly relevant in the case of dual-capable DF-11 and DF-15s is the PLA’s breakdown of its conventional operational activities. According to The Science of Campaigns, the Second Artillery has four primary missions: Missile deterrence, “missile firepower destruction raids,” “missile firepower blockade,” and “missile firepower harassing attacks.” Missile deterrence is self explanatory- the PLA knows that large formations of its own missiles are perceived as powerful and dangerous, and thus knows that they can be counted on to affect an enemy’s planning or movements. The Science of Second Artillery Campaigns manual says “paralyzing the enemy’s operational systems is the primary path for carrying out the center of gravity for the campaign and for obtaining victory in the campaign,” which seems to be the guiding principle of missile firepower destruction raids which are, in essence, quick and powerful strikes against an enemy’s vital areas.69 The kind of strike against Taiwan that colonels Wang and Wu envision would likely fall into this category, and the PLA’s conception of missile strikes as a way to attack the enemy’s Clausewitzian center of gravity— in this case, the Taiwanese airforce— would be consistent with that kind of attack. The third and fourth kinds of campaign are rather less informative where Taiwan is concerned, but are still important when assessing China’s general strategic outlook. A missile firepower blockade consists of interdicting enemy supplies and communications with the goal of affecting his ability to maneuver. The final category, missile firepower harassing attacks, are attacks “on a smaller scale and of a random nature” that are designed to confuse the enemy and cause chaos. This kind of operation is supposed to “apply great psychological pressure to the enemy” while not expending too many missiles. The Science of Campaigns, both in discussing those four conventional operations and in discussing missile operations in general, places great emphasis on three things: the importance of timing, having proper support in place for the missile units and operations and camouflage. These points of emphasis are pretty standard fare, but take on an increased significance in light of recent revelations about the tunnel system China has recently admitted to building for its missiles. Suddenly, the Second Artillery’s concerns that the “operating positions of the Second Artillery are -96-
relatively fixed... [they] are quite visible, leaving Second Artillery strengths extremely exposed” are less of an impediment to operations.70 Through this vast network of tunnels, the Second Artillery has provided itself with excellent cover, numerous hidden supply points and has made it far easier to launch quick missile attacks. Thus, while the problems of timing, support and disguise are hardly gone they can be assumed to be far slighter obstacles than they were in the past, when it was relatively easy to locate launching sites or supply dumps. Taken on their own, there is not much reason to be alarmed by what the PLA manuals say. Even as part of a larger picture, they do not indicate that hostilities are likely. But the manuals provide a strategic blueprint for how the Chinese might go about utilizing their conventional ballistic missile force and they show the amount of serious strategic thought the PLA has put into how, when and where those missiles could be utilized. While nothing in the manuals indicates that the Chinese will attack Taiwan anytime soon, they do lend credence to Wang and Wu’s fear that if the Chinese do strike, they will target the vulnerable Taiwanese air fields. That kind of operation falls squarely into the category of “paralyzing the enemy operational hierarchy,” since it would cripple the Taiwanese air force and allow the PLA to exert its overwhelming superiority in military arenas without fear of interference by the Taiwanese air force. It also, through its discussion of timing, support and camouflage, helps explain what the Chinese military could see itself gaining by basing a large portion of its missile fleet within well-concealed, well-placed tunnel complexes.
Short-Range Ballistic Missiles and Negotiated Constraint The reason states engage in arms control is to reduce threats to themselves, both imminent and remote. The fact that China has the capability to do many of the things that Wang and Wu talk about is precisely the reason that negotiated constraint is a necessity. U.S. concerns about the targeting potential of Chinese missiles on its bases is also telling. The Chinese air force may not have the capability to neutralize Taiwan or the American bases at Osan and Kunsan by itself, but when paired with the Second Artillery’s fleet of SRBMs, there is no question that China would enjoy significant air superiority in rather short order should it choose to employ its missiles against American airbases. As the Chinese note in one of their own strategy manuals, “the utility of the long-range warfare capabilities of missile munitions is strong, the response time is fast, and the ability of these weapons to break through defenses is relatively great.”71 Clearly, the United States and the rest of the world would be safer if the Chinese did not possess the capability to ruin both Taiwan and the United States’ ability to put jets in the sky. The threat of the SRBMs all by themselves is destabilizing enough, but the gigantic repercussions of their use on the military balance—particularly on the sea and in the air—in Southeast Asia exponentially increases the DF-11 and DF-15s’ destabilizing effects. Thus, from an American perspective, SRBM arms control is clearly desirable. Not only would it remove a concrete threat to our regional allies in the Asia-Pacific region, but it would also remove a threat to American military bases and personnel and decrease the amount of leverage China would have in its dealings with neighbors. Unfortunately, the Chinese are not unaware of the advantage they have, and they will not yield it lightly. Complicating matters, the United States military no longer fields a counterpart to the Chinese DF-11s and DF-15s, and few other countries have the international influence and nuclear cachet to legitimately bargain with China. It is tough enough to do bilateral arms control when the opposing sides have similar weapons, but these negotiations would have to involve complicated trade-offs involving concessions in diverse military systems, deployment patterns, and policies. -97-
One of the few potential precedents for Chinese-American talks about SRBM arms control is actually the reason that both the United States and Russia lag so far behind the Chinese in SRBM stockpiles today. In 1991, both Bush and Gorbachev entered into the so-called “bilateral unilateral agreement on disarmament,” which stipulated that both sides would draw their tactical nuclear weapons down to zero, in an effort to get rid of a potential source of tension and conflict in the waning stages of the Cold War. Although Russia has not eliminated its stockpile as assiduously as the United States has, both sides ended up making major reductions. However, it is problematic to cite the unilateral declarations as a good precedent since they did not call for inspections or any sort of verification process, nor did they provide a timetable for the destruction of the stockpiles. One need look no further than American concerns over Russia’s tactical nuclear stockpile during the New START negotiations to doubt the efficacy of unilateral agreeents. Any real arms control agreement with China regarding SRBMs would therefore be in uncharted territory, especially since both the DF-11 and DF-15s are dual-use missiles. Another possible precedent for SRBM arms control is another Cold War agreement— the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE). The CFE took so long to negotiate that it did not enter into force until after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, and neither did it deal with any nuclear weapons, but it still provides principles along which SRBM arms control can be negotiated. The CFE negotiations were based on a mutual desire from the Soviets and the United States to remove weapons from Europe that advantaged the attacker. In essence, the two powers saw a destabilizing offense-dominant atmosphere brewing in Europe and, in the interest of avoiding a potentially catastrophic pre-emptive strike, decided to come to the bargaining table. The result was an agreement that targeted primarily offensive weapons, such as tanks and armored vehicles. Unlike the unilateral declarations, though, the CFE included “unprecedented provisions for detailed information exchanges, on-site inspections, challenge inspections, and on-site monitoring of destruction.”72 Using the CFE as a framework for negotiation could be an effective way of convincing the Chinese of the utility of creating a situation where they are not inspiring so much fear and apprehension with their offensive missile systems. Misunderstandings and ultimately unwarranted paranoia are an unfortunate reality when full transparency is not possible, and unless China is willing to give, among others, the Russians, Americans and Taiwanese access to and monitoring capacity for their SRBM launch sites, it is going to be hard to convince the world that their intentions are purely defensive. Part of the trick of the CFE was both sides conceding that they had certain weapons that were inherently offensive—this is not to say that tanks, armored vehicles and the like did not have defensive value, but rather that they had significantly more value when on the attack—and understanding that the world would be a safer place for everyone were offensive units to be removed from the frontlines of a conflict that could potentially go nuclear in the flash of an eye. Were the Chinese to accept the basic premise that SRBM arms control is a necessity, the United States would be left with two problems. The first problem is caused by the dual-use nature of the DF-11s and DF-15s: how should the United States classify missiles that have predominantly conventional roles? The second problem lies in figuring out what concessions the United States could possibly make to convince China that SRBM arms control would benefit them as well. This part would be complicated enough even if the United States had SRBMs of its own, but it does not. Thus, the concessions would have to be entirely asymmetrical in nature, and historically arms control has been difficult to achieve even when both sides were dealing with similar armaments. The first problem can be solved by not going as far as the unilateral declarations were intended to go; China does not have to draw its SRBM force down to zero in order to mitigate the threat that its neighbors feel they are under. China would, however, have to explicitly agree not to equip its DF-11s and DF-15s with nuclear warheads of any kind, whether enhanced radiation or -98-
standard fission warhead, since maintaining a low number of nuclear SRBMs would have a similarly destabilizing effect as having a lot of conventional ones. If China was intent on keeping its nuclear and other nonconventional warhead capabilities opaque, the other potential avenue for arms control would be to regulate the number and location of the SRBM launchers it does have. As stated earlier, China is presumed to have somewhere between 210 and 250 SRBM launchers, and the roughly 1:4 ratio of launchers force. Even if the Chinese are unwilling to decommission launchers, then they could still ease their neighbors’ concerns if they were to move them towards the center of the country and farther away from coasts and borders. Securing any of those concessions from the Chinese would be a major accomplishment for American negotiators, but to even have a chance at achieving such an agreement, the United States would have to figure out what, if anything, it would be willing to give up in response to Chinese concessions. The two bases in South Korea at Osan and Kunsan do not appear to be negotiable, given the threat that the Chinese-backed North poses to South Korea and the rest of the world. American troops in South Korea may be little more than a “speed bump” should the North ever decide to invade the South, but they have enormous political value and, despite their relatively small numbers, serve as a deterrent to the huge North Korean army. The United States is similarly unlikely to give up significant basing rights in other parts of Asia outside of the range of the DF-11s and DF15s, but could explore making concessions along the lines of how many soldiers and types of units that could be stationed there. Since the Chinese SRBM arsenal seems to be focused on Taiwan, it is logical that the United States should look into what concessions it could make to China vis-à-vis Taiwan to get the Chinese to consider changes in either their SRBM force structure or deployment. Currently the United States has no military bases in Taiwan, which means that the biggest incentive it can offer China is a promise to limit arms sales to Taiwan. It would politically impossible domestically for the United States to completely cut off arms sales to Taiwan, but the United States could agree not to sell certain missile defense systems to Taiwan. In the past, the United States has sold Taiwan Patriot missiles and could promise to sell fewer should China remove at least some of the SRBMs that cause Taiwan to be interested in missile defense technology. The recent successful tests of the Archer missile defense system could provide the United States with some bargaining leverage; thus a combination of selling the Taiwanese fewer PAC-3 Patriot systems and few, if any, Archer systems could be a good start to show that the United States is willing to make real concessions to make arms control work. While it is unlikely that just promising not to sell the Archer system to Taiwan will induce the Chinese to make any of the aforementioned concessions, promising to discuss something that important could be a good way to convince the Chinese of the utility of even opening negotiations with the United States when they have such an overwhelming advantage in SRBMs. Ultimately, the most fruitful and responsible way to pursue arms control in this specific area may be trilateral talks that include Russia. Russia is clearly a stakeholder in this discussion, due to its shared border with China, although DF-11s and DF-15s are not presently deployed to that region. After all, China’s SRBM systems were probably developed and tested for the conditions of a largescale ground conflict on the Russian frontier. In addition, Russia actually does have reciprocal missile systems that could potentially be placed on the table. According to the International Institute for Strategic Studies, Russia has about 200 SRBM launchers—giving it numerical parity with the Second Artillery. The Russian SRBM force mostly comprises OTR-21 Totchka missiles, as well as a couple dozen of the cutting-edge 9K720 Iskander systems. More broadly, Russia’s estimated stockpile of 2,000 tactical nuclear warheads represents a major threat to its neighbors, and most of all China.73 Russia and the United States recently renewed “strategic stability talks” aimed, among other things, at setting the agenda for the next round of arms reductions. The U.S. Senate mandated future talks -99-
on TNW reductions during the ratification of New START. Other issues still in contention include U.S. missile defense systems and nuclear gravity bombs deployed in Europe. Bringing China into such discussions would make them much more complex, by the simple fact there would be three separate relationships at stake, rather than one. Moreover, it is not certain that China would be willing to participate in even relatively informal discussions regarding the Second Artillery, especially given the fact that their nuclear stockpile is dwarfed by the other two powers’. Nevertheless, all three countries could gain from negotiated constraint in the areas of short-range missile systems and TNWs. Russia and China can both increase their security by seeing the other reduce the short-range systems conventional and nuclear systems that would figure in a future conflict. If the United States can facilitate such cuts through changes to its force posture in Europe and Asia, it should seriously consider doing so.
Conclusion The proliferation of Chinese SRBMs illustrates the arms control challenge posed by the combination of rapid Chinese military development and relative opacity on nuclear weapons and other defense matters. Here we have a technology that is rapidly growing, while its status as a dualuse weapon remains unknown. What we do know is that military planners on China’s periphery and in the United States consider it a coercive and destabilizing build-up. Our exercises in hypothesis generation make it easy to see why this is the case. We also know that China is the only P-5 nuclear power that is expanding its nuclear stockpile. But while we have a pretty good idea of China’s missile capabilities, its intentions are much more difficult to divine, and necessitate further study. Regardless, pursuing negotiated constraint with regard to these forces can only make the United States and its allies more secure, due to the threats they pose. But while SRBMs constitute a significant problem, they are unlikely to be addressed on their own on a bilateral or trilateral basis. The best chance for constraint will come from broad talks that cover arms reduction, nuclear proliferation, and some sort of resolution to China’s territorial claims and U.S. deployment patterns in the Pacific region. These could be through formal arms control summits and treaties, but they are more likely to be addressed through a series of informal, ad-hoc, low-publicity negotiations that will become necessary over the decades as China’s military power continues to grow, and the United States assesses its commitments in the region. The United States does not have a long tradition of bilateral arms talks with China, the way it does with Russia and the former Soviet Union, and it will have to remain open to new and creative approaches to negotiated constraint. 1
“Dongfeng 11 (CSS-7),” SinoDefence.com, last modified 1 November 2010, http://www.sinodefence.com/space/missile/df11.asp. 2 “China Sanjiang Space Group (CSSG),” Nuclear Threat Initiative, last modified 1 March 2012, http://www.nti.org/facilities/68/. 3 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 11 (CSS-7).” 4 Ibid. 5 “CSS-7 Mod 2 (DF-11A),” Missilethreat.com: A Project of the Claremont Institute, last modified 29 February 2012, http://www.missilethreat.com/missilesoftheworld/id.28/missile_detail.asp. 6 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 11 (CSS-7).” 7 “DF-11 [CSS-7], DF-11A,” Globalsecurity.org, last modified 24 July 2011, http://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/world/china/df-11.htm. 8 Op. cit. “CSS-7 Mod 2 (DF-11A).” -100-
9
“CSS-7 (DF-11),” Missilethreat.com: A Project of the Claremont Institute, last modified 29 February 2012, http://www.missilethreat.com/missilesoftheworld/id.29/missile_detail.asp. 10 Ibid. 11 “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6),” SinoDefence.com, last updated 1 November 2010, http://www.sinodefence.com/space/missile/df15.asp. 12 Karber slides 13 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6).” 14 14 “CSS-6 (DF-15/M-9),” Missilethreat.com: A Project of the Claremont Institute, last modified 29 February 2012, http://www.missilethreat.com/missilesoftheworld/id.27/missile_detail.asp. 15 “DF-15 [CSS-6 / M-9],” Globalsecurity.org, last modified 24 July 2012, http://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/world/china/df-15.htm. 16 Ibid. 17 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6).” 18 Ibid. 19 Op. cit. “DF-15 [CSS-6 / M-9].” 20 Ibid. 21
Robert S. Norris, Andrew S. Burrows, and Richard W. Fieldhouse, Nuclear Weapons Databook, Volume V: British, French, and Chinese Nuclear Weapons (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1994). p. 365. 22
Op. cit. “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6).” Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Op. cit. Norris, 365. 27 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6).” 28 Op. cit. “DF-15 [CSS-6 / M-9].” 29 U.S. Department of Defense, Military and Security Developments Involving the People’s Republic of China 2010 (Washington, DC, 2010). p. 2. 30 “Chinese Missile Buildup May Pose Threat To Iran,” Reuters News Service, 27 February 1999, http://www.deseretnews.com/article/682748/Chinese-missile-buildup-may-pose-threat-to-Taiwan.html. 31 Howard Diamond, “China Warns U.S. on East Asian Missile Defense Cooperation,” Arms Control Today January/February 1999, http://www.armscontrol.org/print/437. 32 Op. cit. U.S. Department of Defense. p. 66. 33 Ibid. 34 Sean O’Connor, “PLA Second Artillery Corps,” Air Power Australia, last modified 4 December 2009, http://www.ausairpower.net/APA-PLA-Second-Artillery-Corps.html. These brigades are: 815, 817, 818, 819, and 820. 35 Op. cit. U.S. Department of Defense. p. 66. 36 Op. cit. O’Connor. This is supposedly the 816 brigade. 37 Federation of American Scientists, “Nuclear Weapon Tests – China Nuclear Forces,” last modified 27 May 2000, http://www.fas.org/nuke/guide/china/nuke/tests.htm. 38 http://www.house.gov/coxreport/pdf/ch2.pdf 39 Chong-Pin Lin, China’s Nuclear Weapons Strategy: Tradition within Evolution, (Lanham: Lexington Books, 1988). 90 40 Op. cit. Federation of American Scientists. 41 U.S. House of Representatives, Select Committee on U.S. National Security and Military/Commercial Concerns with the People’s Republic of China, Report of the Select Committee on U.S. National Security and 23
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Military/Commercial Concerns with the People’s Republic of China (to accompany H. Res. 463), Washington: Government Printing Office, 1999. p. 60. 42 Ibid, p. 68. 43 Ibid, p. 75 44 Chong-Pin Lin, China’s Nuclear Weapons Strategy: Tradition within Evolution, (Lanham: Lexington Books, 1988). p. 75. 45 Ibid. p. 87. 46 Ibid, p. 89. 47 Ibid. p. 90. 48 Ibid. p. 84. 49 Ibid. p. 92. 50 Ibid. p. 92. 51 Op. Cit. Norris, p. 371. 52 Jeffrey Lewis, The Minimum Means of Reprisal: China’s Search for Security in the Nuclear Age, (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2007). p. 45. 53 Karber, 44 54 Karber, 9. 55 Samuel Cohen, The Truth about the Neutron Bomb, (New York: Morrow, 1983). p. 67. 56 “PLZ 05 155mm Self-Propelled Howitzer,” SinoDefence.com, last modified 20 February 2009, http://www.sinodefence.com/army/artillery/plz05.asp. 57 Op. cit. U.S. Department of Defense, 66. 58 Op. cit. O’Connor. 59 Op. cit. “Dongfeng 15 (CSS-6).” 60 Wang Fei-Sheng and Wu Hsiao-Pao “Preservation of Our Air Force Airport Runways, Taxiways, Hangars, and Hardened Shelters” (Kung-chun Hsueh-shu Yueh-kan Online, July 2008). (<https://www.opensource.gov/portal/server.pt/gateway/PTARGS_0_0_200…3_43/content/Display/PR INCE/CPP20080616312010> [accessed 2 May 2011]. p. 3 61 Op. Cit. Department of Defense. 62 U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission, Hearing on China’s Emergent Military Aerospace and Commercial Aviation Capabilities, written testimony of Roger Cliff, May 20, 2010. 63 Op. Cit. Wang and Wu, p. 4 64 Andrew F. Krepinevich, Why Air Sea Battle? (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, 2010), p. 10 65 2010 Report to Congress of the U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission (111th Congress, 2nd Session, November 2010) p. 89 66 U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission, Hearing on China’s Emergent Military Aerospace and Commercial Aviation Capabilities, written testimony of Jeff Hagen, May 20, 2010 67 Op. Cit., 2010 Report to Congress of the US-China Economic and Security Review Commission p. 85 68 The Science of Second Artillery Campaigns, edited by Yu Jixun. (Beijing, PLA Press, 2004). p. 49. 69 Ibid. p. 126. 70 Ibid. p. 123-24. 71 The Science of Second Artillery Campaigns. Op. Cit. p. 123. 72 White House Fact Sheet (Issued by the Office of the Press Secretary, Helsinki, Finland, July 10, 1992). < http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1584/is_n28_v3/ai_12553015/> [accessed 13 May 2011] 73 Hans M. Kristensen and Robert S. Norris, “Russian Nuclear Forces, 2012,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 2012 68: 93. -102-
What Has Changed? The Outcome of Another Israeli-Lebanon War Cody Zoschak, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Introduction In 2006, the Israeli Defense Forces retaliated against Hizbullah cross-border attacks by launching air and artillery campaigns against Lebanese infrastructure and deploying ground forces to Southern Lebanon. Despite this massive retaliation, Hizbullah continues to assault Israeli cities with rockets, artillery, and other small arms. Given the current situation in the Middle East and the stubborn nature of the involved parties, another Israel-Lebanon war cannot be ruled out. The implications of such a conflict are tremendous for the Arab nations surrounding the two nations and the great powers invested in the region. In the first iteration of this conflict, the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) relied heavily upon airpower to eliminate Hizbullah artillery and ground forces. By the end of the war, the Israeli Air Force (IAF) had flown over 15,000 sorties with only 1 combat loss.1 Dan Halutz, the Chief of Staff of the IDF, envisioned a war fought primarily with Special Operations forces (SOF) and overwhelming airpower.2 This over-reliance on airpower has been cited as a strategic failure of the IDF and the Israeli civilian government during this conflict, a point that has been noted by the Israeli military establishment.3 Due to this revelation, an analysis of the ground war is most relevant and will yield the most crucial policy implications. In analyzing the ground war between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, there are several crucial factors that must be addressed. These factors include the quality and quantity of small arms and light weapons (SALW) with which Hizbullah is armed, advanced IDF approaches to defending armor, and increased Israeli capability for combined arms operations. Hizbullah as an organization is highly reliant on obtaining weapons from other entities, primarily its two main state sponsors: Syria and Iran, in order to arm its fighters. Israeli intelligence underestimated both the quality and quantity of the weapons imported to Lebanon in 2006, and this led to serious miscalculations at both the strategic and tactical level.4 As the conflict unfolded, it became obvious to the IDF forces on the ground that they had seriously underestimated Hizbullah and this information was passed up to the IDF leadership, yet no cohesive plan ever emerged to combat the new threat of ATGMs and other advanced munitions. In the 2006 war, one of the most pressing threats to IDF forces was the anti-armor weaponry which enabled Hezbollah fighters to counter both heavy armor and lightly armored vehicles. Additionally these missiles were used as anti-personnel weapons in a very deadly fashion. While this threat goes hand-in-hand with the flow of weapons into Lebanon, there is also the consideration of armor defense. In 2006, Israeli armor was not able to adequately defend against high explosive anti-tank (HEAT) rounds including 3rd generation anti-tank guided missiles (ATGMs), the more primitive wire-guided munitions or rocket propelled grenades (RPG), and Israeli small-unit tactics led troops to be highly vulnerable to such weapons. In addition to the tactical-level threat, commanders at the operational level failed to take these weapons into -103-
consideration when planning and executing operations. The prime example of this failure is the skirmish at Wadi Saloqui, which I will present in detail later in this paper. This failure not only shows the failure of NCOs and junior officers to adapt and overcome problems on the battlefield, but also the lack of knowledge and planning by field grade and general officers. Finally, the changed doctrine of the IDF with regards to joint operations has changed significantly since 2006. During the first Lebanese conflict, the Israelis utterly failed to coordinate their forces at the highest strategic levels as well as at the tactical level, and I will investigate and assess the changes (or lack thereof) to the tactic, techniques, and procedures (TTPs) that may affect tactical joint operations, and reform at the highest military levels which would assist with coordinating forces on the battlefield. This problem has been very publicly addressed by the Israeli government, and by looking at the structural and doctrinal changes, it is obvious that the Israeli combined arms would perform much better as a result of their failure in 2006. For the purposes of this paper we will assume that Hizbullah continues to prosecute their rocket campaign against Israeli targets, and sometime in the near future the Israelis deem it necessary to again “punish” Lebanon by attacking Hizbullah targets in Southern Lebanon, “rout and destroy” Hizbullah capability, or push back the militant organization from the border. I assume that no major changes will occur in the regional power structures or alliances, meaning that Iran and Syria will remain the main benefactors of Hizbullah. This paper will determine whether Hizbullah could once again attrite the IDF to the point that they withdraw from Lebanese soil. First, I will outline the force structures and weapons (assuming that Hizbullah obtains the best possible weaponry from it’s allies) which each force will be using and compare their strength and capabilities to those of their respective forces in 2006. Second, the changes in Israeli doctrine will be analyzed from two different approaches: first open-source materials such as Israeli public statements will be analyzed, then tactics, techniques and procedures (TTPs) used in Operation Cast Lead (2009) will be compared to those from the 2006 conflict. Third, I will determine whether Hizbullah forces will be able to maintain the same advantages as in 2006, including their “surprise military prowess,” as well as determine whether their weapons systems will be as effective against potentially improved Israeli platforms. Additionally, this section will include a short analysis of the terrain and other static characteristics of the conflict. I will then assess Hezbollah tactics and how they have adapted since the 2006 conflict. Finally, the conclusions developed in the following sections will be combined and an overall analysis will be given. It should be noted that the rapidly evolving nature of the Middle East since the winter of 2011 has potential to change many facts that are taken for granted in this paper. The research for this project was undertaken before the Arab Spring began, but the conclusions hold true. The two main issues that the Arab Spring raises with respect to Hizbullah capability relate to the viability of the Syrian regime and the overall support of Hizbullah by the Lebanese people particularly the nonShi’a. While it is well outside the scope of this paper to debate whether the current Syrian government will remain in place, it is not unreasonable to argue that for the time being, Hizbullah will continue to maintain access to Syrian territory and use it for storage and transportation. While sectarian tensions may flare in Lebanon due to movements in the greater region, in the face of Israeli military action I argue that most sects of Lebanese society would again lend their support to Hizbullah due to their reputation and status as protectors.
Personnel and Equipment Hizbullah: -104-
Since the 2006 conflict, Hizbullah has recruited and trained many additional forces. While it is difficult to obtain precise figures through open sources, we can estimate that Hizbullah now fields five times more trained uniformed forces than in 2006.5 Additionally according to high-ranking State Department officials, “Not only has the number of both regular and irregular Hizbullah troops risen significantly over the past half decade, but we can assume that their training in weapons proficiency and tactical skill has also increased due to the presence of Iranian trainers. The Iranians and continue to train the militiamen and it is estimated that, “in 2008 alone, Iran...trained thousands of Hizbullah fighters at camps in Iran.6” Table 17: Hizbullah Defense Forces
2006
2011
Regulars
1000
Approximately 5000
Irregulars
10,000
10,000+
This enormous surge in personnel is not nearly as important as the additional training which Hizbullah fighters received. Due to the strategy which their leadership adopted in 2006 (and is likely to utilize again) manpower is not the primary need of Hizbullah. The hybrid model of war which Hizbullah followed, as described by Stephen Biddle in “The 2006 Lebanon Campaign and the Future of Warfare,” was not manpower intensive due to the use of guerrilla style tactics combined with advanced technology in order to attrite a superior enemy. In addition to their hybrid style of fighting, Hizbullah militants are trained to a higher level than we have come to expect from irregular forces. The cooperation with members of the Iranian al-Quds force as well as their ability to operate with impunity inside Lebanon have enabled them to create a force trained to a professional level. Additionally, in 2006 many of Hizbullah’s best fighters were concentrated on the other side of the Litani River in preparation for the Israeli assault on Beirut which never materialized, further reinforcing the point that extensive manpower is unnecessary for Hizbullah success, as the IDF was pinned down and ground up without the use of a large number of Hizbullah’s elite fighters.8 One of the most crucial points that must be assessed when considering Hizbullah capability is the weapons flow from Syria and Iran. While Lebanon is awash with assault rifles and similar small arms, Hizbullah is still dependent on imports for more advanced equipment such as anti-tank guided missiles and communication gear. According to recent comments by Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, “Syria and Iran are providing Hezbollah with rockets and missiles of ever increasing capability [and] we are at a point now where Hezbollah has far more rockets and missiles than most governments in the world.” For the purposes of this paper, I will assume that both Syria and Iran keep an open pipeline and supply the best weapons available to the Hizbullah militants. Table 2 below gives rough estimates of weapons stockpiles in 2006 and today, and Table 3 gives some basic specifications for the relevant weapons.9 -105-
Table 210: HEAT Muntions
2006
2011
RPG-29
Plentiful
Plentiful
AT-13
Plentiful
Plentiful
AT-4
Plentiful
Plentiful
AT-3
Plentiful
Plentiful
TOW
Scarce
Plentiful
AT-5
Plentiful
Plentiful
AT-14
Scarce
Plentiful
RPG-32
None
Scarce
TOW BGM-71
None
Scarce
Milan
None
Scarce
Dragon
None
Scarce
Toufan-5
None
Scarce
Javelin (Low Quantities)
None
Scarce
Country of Country of Productio Origin n
Table 311: Range (m) Weight (Total Penetration Guidance in kg) beyond ERA (mm)
RPG-29
Russia
Unknown Proliferation Heavy
500
18.2
750
Unguided
RPG-32
Russia
Jordan
700
10
650
Unguided
TOW BGM-71
USA
Unknown Proliferation Heavy
3750
22.6
1000
Wire Guided SACLOS
AT-2 Swatter
Russia
Syria
2500
27
500
Radio MCLOS
AT-3 Sagger Russia
Syria
3000
12.5
400
Wire Guided SACLOS
AT-4 Spigot Russia
Syria
2000
13
480
Wire Guided SACLOS
AT-5 Spandrel
Russia
Lebanon
4000
22.5
925
Wire Guided SACLOS
AT-13 Metis Russia
Lebanon
1500
13.8
800
Wire Guided SACLOS
-106-
Country of Country of Productio Origin n
Range (m) Weight (Total Penetration Guidance in kg) beyond ERA (mm)
AT-14 Kornet
Russia
5500
Milan
29
1100
Laser Guided SACLOS
France/Ge Syria/Lebanon 2000 rmany
11.8
352
Wire Guided SACLOS
Dragon
USA
Iran
10
500
Wire Guided SACLOS
Toufan-5
Iran
Iran
Javelin (Low USA Quantities)
Syria
Unknown
1500
Laser Guided 2500
11.8
600
IR (Topattack profile)
Stockpiles of these weapons remain available in Syria, and experts estimate that these caches are larger and contain more effective weapons than in 2006. 12As shown in Table 1, there are several late-model anti-armor weapons (both guided and unguided) which Hizbullah did not possess in 2006, that we can assume have trickled down to their level in the last 5 years. Included on that list is the Toufan-5, the recently developed Iranian ATGM, which has likely been shipped to Hizbullah in reasonable quantities. Additionally, due to expanded proliferation, I assume that they have acquired small stocks of Western produced ATGMs such as the Milan, Dragon, and Javelin missiles which have significantly higher kill rates than the AT-14, the most advanced anti-armor platform Hizbullah fielded in 2006. During the 2006 conflict, Hizbullah made excellent use of ATGMs and RPGs in both antiarmor and anti-personnel operations. The new technologies and increased quantities as reflected above will enable Hizbullah to maintain some of their anti-armor capability despite drastic improvements by the Israelis in their TTPs and training (both of which will be discussed in depth later in this paper). The increased quantities will enable Hizbullah fighters to use “swarming techniques” with greater frequency and with higher quality missiles, while the more precise 4-5 man teams will have access to advanced munitions which can fool active defense systems and penetrate explosive reactive (ERA) and composite armor enabling them to defeat advanced main battle tanks (MBTs) such as the Mervaka Mk IV. Israel: Israeli force structure and equipment has changed very little since 2006. As you can see from Table 4 below, the number of active duty and reserve troops is almost identical and few purchases or losses of equipment has occurred. The changes that have significance for a future Hizbullah conflict as we imagine it is the “heavying-up” of the force with the purchase of more 4th generation Merkava MBTs (and the upgrades to those MBTs), the acquisition of the Namer tracked APC, and the reorganization of the force. These actions were primarily in response to the 2006 conflict and the heavy vehicular losses to HEAT rounds. The Merkava Mk IV has been redesigned with increased armor against frontal attack and draped chains around the turret in order to detonate HEAT rounds13 In addition to the Merkava Mk IV upgrades, the IDF installed the Trophy Active Defense System (ADS) on many Merkava Mk IV and Namer APCs, a point which will be discussed in detail later in the paper. Finally, while Israel would likely deploy similar numbers of troops as -107-
2006, they would likely be deployed as full divisions or brigades as opposed to battalions, a point which will be discussed in the next section. Table 414: Israeli Defense Figures 2006
2011
Î&#x201D;
7.17
54.1
46.93
Foreign Military Assistance 2.26
3
0.74
Active Troops
176500
176500
0
Reserve Troop
565000
565000
0
Troops
133,000
133,000
0
Armored Units
2 div;15 bde
2;15
0
Infantry
4 div;12 bde
4;12
0
Airborne
8 bde
8
0
Artillery
4 reg
4
0
SP Artillery
8 reg
8
0
Reserve Infantry
11 bde
11
0
MBT
3657
3501
-156
Merkava
1681
1525
-156
MkI
407
441
34
MkII
375
455
80
MkIII
378
454
76
MkIV
80
175
95
Magach-7
111
111
0
Ti-67
261
261
0
M-60
711
711
0
Centurion
206
206
0
T-51/T-55/T-62S
126
126
0
Defense Budget
Army
Equipment by Type Armor
-108-
M-48
561
561
0
APC
10,419+
10,484+
65+
Tracked
10,373+
10,418+
45+
Namer
0
45
45
Achzarit
276
276
0
M-113A1/A2
6131
6131
0
M-2
180
180
0
M-3
3386
3386
0
Nagmachon
400
400
0
Wheeled
46
46
0
BTR-152
34
34
0
BTR-40
6
6
0
Puma
6
6
0
Attack
95+
81
-14+
Cobra
55
33
-22
Apache
40
30
-10
Sarat
Unknown (some) 18
~15
Transport
101
200
99
Heavy
0
38
38
CH-53D (Sea Stallion)
0
38
38
Medium
24
73
49
S-70A (Black Hawk)
0
49
49
UH-60A (Black Hawk)
10
10
0
UH-60L (Black Hawk)
14
14
0
Light
77
89
12
Bell 206
43
34
-9
Bell 212
34
55
21
Helicopters
Israeli TTPs and Doctrine The Israeli defense apparatus is generally regarded as the most effective and powerful fighting force in the Middle East. The IDFâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s triumphs in the 1948, 1956, 1967 and 1973 Arab Wars -109-
as well as their previous successes in Lebanon caused their leadership (both political and military) to feel invincible. In fact, the IDF successes were more due in greater part to failures by Arab militaries than their own ability. The utterly incompetent nature of most Arab fighting forces has been heavily documented, particularly with respect to the 1948, 1967 and 1973 Wars, and the Israelis depended on that incompetence.15 As the IDF faced a fairly well trained foe which could not be routed with a basic application of airpower and armor, it became abundantly clear that Israeli military doctrine and TTPs were severely deficient. In 2006, there were several strategic level failures in the military and political high leadership, and there was a failure to understand combined arms operations at both the operational and tactical levels. In this section I will describe these problems in detail and assess the level to which they have been addressed. There were three main strategic failures on the part of the IDF during the 2006 conflict: a failure to integrate SOF with the armor, artillery and supporting forces which they required, the adoption of Systematic Operational Design, and the decision to push directly into Southern Lebanon without any consideration to strategic maneuver. The first point is most appropriately illustrated by the Maglan’s experience in Maroun al-Ras. Early on the 17th of July, the first IDF ground forces were committed to Lebanese soil. Components of the Maglan, an elite special forces unit, were ordered to venture into the village of Maroun al-Ras and were quickly overwhelmed by both irregular and regular Hizbullah forces. It took almost a day to reinforce the SOF team with armor and infantry, and even when the reinforcements arrived, they were woefully inadequate. By the late morning on the 18th, the occupying force was mostly encircled and completely cut off due to this poor integration. The forces to extract or support the original special operations team should have been in place before the operation was launched, and the reinforcements should have been of an integrated nature instead of the piecemeal units that were thrown together.16 After withdrawing from Lebanon in 2000 the IDF’s Operational Doctrine Research Institute (ODRI) designed a “completely new theory on warfare” known as Systemic Operational Design (SOD).17 The details of SOD are complicated and beyond the scope of this paper, so it is sufficient to simply outline the consequences which it had on the IDF during this conflict. This “revolutionary” system essentially eliminated the corps as a maneuver unit and moved the IDF towards an artillery and air power heavy force structure as we saw in Operations Accountability and Grapes of Wrath. The effects of the elimination of the corps in operations are evident when we look at that order of battle (OOB) of the Israeli Ground Forces for the 2006 war.18 According to the OOB, only three divisions were deployed as complete units, and the majority of the other units were deployed as individual battalions. The myriad of small units, combined with the lack of clearly defined plans proved deadly as the 2006 war often required formations larger than a brigade or division and the commanders and staffs of those units were generally untrained and inexperienced for the task. The main consequence of this reorganization was that field grade and general officers rarely if ever commanded their units in large-scale maneuver or drills, leaving them undertrained and unprepared. In some cases brigade level commanders had “not command[ed] their units in training for years.19” In a future Israel-Lebanon conflict it is likely that Israel would deploy similar numbers of troops, yet they would be organized in a different manner. Instead of deploying a multitude of battalions and brigades with a couple of scattered divisions in accordance with SOD, they would take a more traditional approach and order entire armored and infantry divisions to the theater. This would enable the IDF to practice proper strategic maneuver and combat the conventional aspects of Hizbullah’s hybrid strategy. Additionally it will place more combat assets such as ISR and close air support (CAS) organically within the combat units that are engaged on the battlefield. -110-
Additionally, SOD caused the IDF to rely heavily upon indirect fire such as artillery and airpower. This shift took the focus away from “classic ground maneuver,” which led to tactical failure in Southern Lebanon.20 It should be noted that this was not solely due to the new doctrine, but also because of the selection of Lt. Gen. Dan Halutz as the Chief of Staff of the IDF. Lt. Gen. Halutz was the first IAF officer to be selected for that post and he proposed integrating an “aircentric notion of future warfare” into IDF doctrine during his tenure.21 While his new concepts of airpower were valid and fairly effective, they supplanted traditional ground operations and Halutz “was so confident that airpower could do the job alone, or almost alone, that he did not provide the government with any real alternative plan until the latest stage of the war.22” The problems created by Gen. Halutz’s narrow doctrine were compounded by a lack of civilian leadership. Not willing to engage in a full scale ground deployment the Israeli cabinet accepted this “war from afar” strategy. As their objectives remained unmet, they slowly began integrating more ground forces until they found themselves fully engaged in Southern Lebanon. Because of this gradual approach, no true integrated plan was ever developed. This led to operational issues as commanders on the ground were unsure of their missions and the role of other units in the area. In addition, there were strategic implications of this failure which are evident in the lack of high-level strategic manuever in the conflict. As stated in the previous paragraph, the lack of a preconcieved plan for a ground invasion had serious consequences for the IDF. Instead of utilizing terrain and manuever in order to avoid Hizbullah defensive positions, the Israelis simply launched a frontal assault on known hostile territory that had been heavily prepared by Hizbullah in anticipiation of such an attack. While the IDF intelligence could not pinpoint Hizbullah strongholds and bunkers for indirect fire, the Israelis were well aware that the border region was filled with prepared fighting positions as shown in Figure 1 below. Figure 123:
-111-
The influence of Lt. Gen. Halutz and the new SOD doctrine put forth by the ODRI marginalized the danger posed by these fortifications and believed that they could be neutralized with advanced airpower. This mistaken faith in advanced airpower combined with the lack of a unified ground combat strategy led to a piecemeal battle plan that resulted in individual Israeli units pushing into Southern Lebanon in an assault that chewed up their infantry and armor. This stands in stark contrast to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon when the IDF moved up the borders before sweeping south through the contested region. In addition to the numerous strategic problems discussed above, combined arms operations were a failure at the tactical/operational level and IDF training was clearly inadequate. While artillery and airpower were fairly well integrated due to advanced C4IR capabilities, commanders repeatedly failed to effectively assemble infantry-armor formations.24 There is no better example of this failure than Wadi Saloqi. Col. Kidor, the 401st Armored Brigade Commander, ordered a battalion to cross the Saloqi River, a movement that required the unit to move through a large wadi.25 Before entering the wadi, the commander of the 9th Battalion called for a smoke screen to cover his movements and an engineering battalion to prepare his advance. The smoke screen dissipated quickly due to strong winds, and the engineering battalion refused to undertake the mission due to the high risk, yet Lt. Col. Defrin ordered his unit to advance despite the fact that the battlefield was not properly prepared and there was no bulldozer attached to his unit. In addition, Defrin maneuvered through the wadi knowing well that the geography would disrupt radio contact with his attached infantry, so when the armored column came under missile fire he had no assistance from his escorts.26 One officer from the 9th Battalion stated "there were many professional mistakes made in the use of the tanks. The soldiers were not trained properly for this battle and the division lacked experience in using tanks and infantry units operating together and in this type of terrain."27 A more critical comment was made by a general at an after action review when he said “I never imagined that the army’s performance was so shoddy.28” This action shows that the field-grade officers of the IDF were unable to effectively plan an operation involving infantry escorts for an armored column. Tactically, it seems that company-grade officers were unable to innovate and react during operations.29 The final failure of the IDF doctrine lay in their training. There is a plethora of anecdotal evidence showing basic deficiencies in their capabilities. Such basic skills such as mounting and dismounting an APC or helicopter were not known to soldiers, and before 2006, 25% of peacetime field exercises we cancelled, and the many of the remaining exercises did not use live fire, meaning that “some units went into Lebanon without participating in a live-fire exercise for five years.3031” Additionally, in the wake of the Intifada most of the training was geared towards low intensity conflict due to the fear of another uprising in the Gaza Strip. The lack of training among officers was even more prominent that that of the enlisted. Before the conflict, 39% of reserve company commanders had not received any training for their position, and many brigade and division commanders failed to complete a single field exercise during their entire term of service.32 Between the lack of training, and the lack of experience fighting a trained force33, the Israelis simply did not fight in the way expected of a professional army. The following passage is the recollection of a soldier from the 51st Battalion of the Golani Brigade as his unit attacked the village of Bint Jbeil: “At 0530, Companies A and C of the 51st Battalion ran headlong into a withering array of Hezbollah small arms, machine guns, rocketpropelled grenades (RPGs), antitank missiles, mortars, and shortrange rockets. ‘An ambush from hell’ is how one Israeli soldier described the first contact. ‘The Hezbollah men were in upper stories -112-
of buildings,’ another soldier remembered ‘and had a commanding view of the IDF force. In the initial firing, 30 members of C Company, one third of its total strength, were hit, as was the battalion’s Deputy Commander, Major Roi Klein.’ Company A also sustained five casualties. As the fighting intensified, Hezbollah squads maneuvered onto their flanks and continued to deliver a multitude of direct and indirect fires. Companies A and C continued to resist the violent attacks, as other companies from the 51st Battalion rushed forward to assist with the evacuation of dead and wounded.34” Upon reading that excerpt, it hardly seems that the IDF is a professional trained army fighting a mostly irregular force, showing just how poorly the IDF fared when it encountered organized resistance from Hizbullah forces. As a reserve soldier told a reporter, “In the past six years I’ve only had a week’s training. . . . For the last six years we were engaged in stupid policing missions in the West Bank. . . . Checkpoints, hunting stone-throwing Palestinian children, that kind of stuff. The result was that we were not ready to confront real fighters like Hezbollah.35” Another example of poor tactics transplanted from the conflicts in Gaza involves differentiating between cover and concealment. While policing low intensity conflicts in the Occupied Territories, IDF troops had little trouble obtaining cover from stones thrown and small arms fired by Palestinian in houses or other light structures. On the other hand, in Lebanon, the same type of structures which soldiers sheltered in during the Intifada merely provided concealment and were easily penetrated by ATGMs or other munitions, leading to heavy infantry casualties from anti-armor weapons.36 In the aftermath of the 2006 Lebanon War, the IDF began a period of self-evaluation in order to identify the factors which caused the heavier than expected losses in Southern Lebanon and attempted to correct these deficiencies. The main two areas addressed by the reforms were training and joint operations, and in both the IDF has been fairly effective in developing effective TTPs in order to meet the standard of a Western military. In the aftermath of 2006, “jointness” became the watchword of the IDF, and this focus was evident during Operation Cast Lead in 2009. One of the most important reforms made during this period was the decision to introduce organic support to brigade commanders giving them full autonomy over airpower, intelligence assets such as reconnaissance planes, armor, combat engineers, artillery, and some naval assets.37 In the words of an IAF commander, "I instructed my pilots to consider themselves the flying tank of the brigade commander.38" Additionally efforts were made before the conflict to ensure that all units and branches were coordinated and fighting the same battle. In late 2008, Shin Bet operatives (Israeli intelligence), IAF pilots, Israeli Navy liaisons, and IDF planners met and assembled target lists and threat data together for the first time in history.39 This integration in both the planning and execution of the operation proved invaluable; commanders began to recognize the voices of their counterparts on the radio which enabled trust and communication, ground troops had conducted overflights prior to battle in order to understand the battle field and to give them the ability to communicate targets to pilots more effectively, and engineers understood the needs of tankers and were able to clear effective paths for safe operation of armor.40 In addition to reforming its combined arms protocols, the IDF completely overhauled their training and fitness standards and procedures. This program, known as “Teffen 2012,” is a five year plan to create “decisive ground manoevre capability based on modern main battle tanks (MBTs) and other armored fighting vehicles, attack helicopters, low altitude unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) and transport aircraft.41” Immediately following the war, every brigade engaged in a full-scale, live-113-
fire maneuver exercise and their commanders attended 3 month-long courses which incorporated field exercises in the Golan Heights.42 Each battalion is now monitored individually and is required to train in the field with live ammunition for at least 13 weeks every two years.43 This program not only requires additional training, but forces units to “go back to their roots” and learn the fundamentals of their trade. For example armored units again began to focus on their “traditional roles and advantages, that of ‘speed and firepower,’44” and tankers were no longer forced to go through training in manning checkpoints. In addition to refocusing the training, these formations began to conduct full-scale division, live fire field exercises with all combat support units on a regular basis. These training missions amounted to “dress rehearsals” for combat and enabled commanders to understand all the units under their span of control, and taught company level officers how to integrate their movements with their counterparts in other branches. According to Matt Matthews, “by late 2008, the IDF had undergone an almost complete transformation. Having scrutinized its missteps during the 2006 war, the IDF abandoned the defective doctrine of the past and returned to the fundamentals of modern warfare.45” In particular, their increased proficiency at combined arms operations will enable them to effectively defend their armor and APCs from Hizbullah fire, allowing them to maneuver and fire on a properly prepared battlefield with protection from attached infantry. This advantage is absolutely crucial to Israeli success and the incredible advances in this area will enable the IDF to defend against Hizbullah attacks and prolong a Lebanese campaign without high casualties.
Can Hizbullah Maintain their Defensive Advantage? In 2006 there were six major factors which enabled Hizbullah to combat the numerically and technologically superior IDF: pre-prepared defensive positions, advantageous terrain, weapons caches, popular support, tactical effectiveness, and assymetric usage of weaponry. This section will outline each of those advantages and determine to what extent Hizbullah has maintained it since 2006. As the IDF began to advance through Southern Lebanon, the leadership was shocked by the quality and number of fighting positions and bunkers which Hizbullah had constructed.46 The positions were so well hidden that soldiers would walk directly past a bunker entrance without seeing them, and armor would be engaged at close range yet would be unable to identify the source of the incoming munitions.47 Additionally many of these bunkers were enormous and fully equipped, Nicholas Blanford toured a bunker built 40m underground which sprawled over 2 km and included a fully equipped operating room, bathrooms with running hot water, domitories built to accomodate large numbers of fighters, meeting rooms, ammunition caches, and firing positions.48 From these positions Hizbullah could store weapons and supplies while observing and managing the battlespace. Smaller and less equipped alternate and supplementary positions were used to fire on IDF troops from cover.49 Also, these well-prepared positions enabled Hizbullah to bring their anti-armor capability to bear, because their ATGM positions were almost impossible to locate due to the long range at which Hizbullah could target Israeli tanks.50 Without the capability which these bunkers and fighting positions afforded the Hizbullah fighters, they would have been cut to pieces by the IDF’s superior firepower and indirect fire capabilities. Currently the contested region is policed by UNIFIL and the LAF, which has led some scholars to say that Hizbullah will be unable to rebuild its military infrastructure to 2006 levels. Despite this, I argue that Hizbullah has likely already rebuilt many of their positions and will have a similar capability to 2006 should Israel make incursions into Southern Lebanon again. UNIFIL has been policing Southern Lebanon since 1978, and was unable to prevent the construction of the -114-
bunkers used in 2006. Between the sheer number of positions and the highly developed interiors of those positions, it is clear that either Hizbullah has developed a method of circumventing the observers, as one UNIFIL officer put it “we never saw them build anything, they must have brought the cement in by the spoonful.51” Considering that the mechanism which Hizbullah utilized in order to avoid UNIFIL regulations has never been identified, we can assume that they still maintain the capability to construct bunkers, logisitical facilities, and fighting positions. In addition to the artificial advantages which Hizbullah created, the terrain of Southern Lebanon lent significant advantage to Hizbullah. Southern Lebanon is mostly hilly and spotted with wadis and small villages. There is only one city that is of any significant size, and the majority of the population lives in the abovementioned villages. The villages are generally located on top of small hills surrounded by rocky landscape which inhibits vehicular movement. The villages themselves provide plentiful cover, especially for irregular forces which can melt into the population. Essentially, the terrain of Southern Lebanon is hostile to a highly mechanized force and therefore requires extremely effective infantry-armor integration in order to employ the heavy firepower of tanks without exposing them to unnecessary risk.52 While the terrain of the region obviously has not changed significantly,53 the IDF’s newfound capability to assemble effective infanty-tank teams will enable it to fight in a more effective manner should this operation be undertaken again. In addition to the extensive network of fighting and defensive positions throughout Southern Lebanon, Hizbullah also maintained weapons caches in both Lebanese and Syrian territory. These caches enabled Hizbullah to conceal large numbers of weapons from UNIFIL and Israeli reconnaisance, and maintain a constant supply of weapons to their fighters. As I have shown above, we know that Hizbullah can construct and furnish military structures with impunity in the region so we can assume that the weapons caches in the region have been rebuilt and replenished. In order to maintain redundancy and ensure that their weapons cannot be completely destroyed or confiscated by UNIFIL or Israeli units, Hizbullah also maintains caches on Syrian territory. It is clear from a variety of reports that Syria continues to play host to such weapons depots.54 In order to capitalize on the following three advantages, Hizbullah must maintain significant support among the Lebanese population. Due to the ineffective nature of the Lebanese government and military, the Lebanese people have consistently looked towards Hizbullah as their protection against invasion from Israel. Hizbullah expanded their base of influence beyond their orginial Shi’a constitituency to all of Lebanon when Israel launched Operation Grapes of Wrath.55 After the 2006 Israeli invasion, Lebanese support of Hizbullah skyrocketed for a similar reason. Additionally, the invasion led to an unexpected closeness among the Shi’a community that had not been seen since before Hizbullah became a national movement.56 This incredible support among Southern Lebanese enables Hizbullah fighters to blend into the population “as a fish in water” as Mao described. Additionally, widespread popular support makes a counterinsurgency campaign virtually impossible due to a lack of human intelligence. While the previously mentioned advantages are observed frequently in insurgencies across the globe, what differentiated Hizbullah campaigns from insurgencies was the tactical effectivity and advanced weapons which its fighters utilized. These charactistics (among others not within the scope of this paper) bring the 2006 conflict into the realm of hybrid war, which requires a very different approach.57 Tactically, the Hizbullah forces were on par with many professional armies. As I described above, in many cases the Israelis were completely outmatched, and military experts stated that “Hizballah deserves to be taken seriously as a fighting force independent of any outside sponsor.58” Their units, especially those trained extensively by Iranians, are capable of advanced fire and manuever and exhibit high levels of small unit leadership.59 Considering the low levels of Hizbullah attrition and the continued presence of Iranian trainers in Lebanon, it is safe to say that Hizbullah -115-
units still maintain that high level of professional skill.60 This should be taken in context with the drastic improvements in tactical and operational skill by the IDF which would minimize or eliminate the advantage that Hizbullah maintained in 2006. The final advantage which Hizbullah held in 2006 were their highly advanced weaponry. For the purposes of this paper the shore-to-ship missiles, UAVs and other non-ground based platforms will be disregarded. As noted earlier in this paper, ATGMs were the primary game-changer in Southern Lebanon. The question which now faces us is whether these weapons will remain as deadly in light of advances in technology and training. One of the most publicized Israeli technological advancements since 2006 has been the Trophy Active Defense System which has been installed in a significant number of Merkava Mk IV tanks. While the exact testing specifications have not been released, some open source materials have outlined the tests, and it seems that the Trophy ADS will enable the Israelis to defend against some of the less advanced anti-armor weapons such as the RPG-17, but they will still be vulnerable to advanced ATGMs, especially those which are designed to strike at the less armored flanks and tops of tanks, such as the Javelin. In addition, the Trophy system is unlikely to be able to defend against â&#x20AC;&#x153;swarmingâ&#x20AC;? tactics with unguided RPGs. As we saw above in Table 3, the newer weapons which Hizbullah has acquired since 2006 do not have significant advantages in range or penetration over the weapons they possessed previously. In addition, the IDFâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s increased proficiency in combined arms operations will lead to less successful anti-armor attacks by Hizbullah teams, and a general increase in the quality of combat training will decrease the number of infantry deaths by anti-armor weapons used in an anti-personnel manner.
Conclusions In this paper I have compared the relative weaknesses and strengths of Hizbullah and the IDF and analyzed the changes in doctrine, technology, and strategy in both organizations since the 2006 conflict. Summarizing the various sections in this paper very briefly, we find that little has changed in force structure or personnel for the IDF while Hizbullah has gained a significant number of fighters, the equipment of the two forces is very similar to that of 2006 and the few changes that occurred will have little effect on the conflict, Israeli training and doctrine has advanced significantly and has enabled them to field well-trained soldiers and officers capable of executing combined arms operations, and Hizbullah will be able to maintain the majority of the defensive advantages which it enjoyed in 2006. The evidence seems to show that Israel has made advances far above those of Hizbullah with regards to training and doctrine while most other factors are held constant. Should Hizbullah attempt to resist an Israeli incursion using a similar hybrid war model as 2006, they will not be able to cause similar amounts of attrition and it is likely that Israel will be able to sustain operations for a longer amount of time. The advantage which IDF training and doctrine gives the Israelis over both the Hizbullah regulars and irregulars,would be very hard for the Hizbullah fighters to counter. In order to do so, Hizbullah would have to numerically overwhelm the IDF. In 2006, the maximum surge of the IDF was approximately 30,000 troops and by analyzing their force structure I assume that they could field a surge capacity of 50,000. Even if Hizbullah could have access to double the number of troops which they currently field (both regular and irregular) they would still only have 30,000 fighters, which is not enough to overwhelm the IDF with pure numbers, and it is highly likely that they would still be cut to pieces and forced underground. Unfortunately for the Israelis, a longer operation is unlikely to accomplish their mission. The vast majority of the Southern Lebanese are strong supporters of Hizbullah and would actively resist -116-
the Israeli invasion with whatever means available to them, forcing the Israelis to occupy a territory with an unfriendly population and a heavily entrenched enemy force. In addition, it is unlikely that even a sustained operation would be able to seriously stunt Hizbullah to the point which they could not easily regenerate the capability to launch short and medium range rockets into Israeli territory, the main cross-border capability of Hizbullah. Cordesman, Anthony. "The Lessons of the Israeli-Lebanon War." CSIS, Washington D.C. 11 Mar. 2008. Lecture. 2 Inbar, Efraim. "How Israel Bungled the Second Lebanon War." Middle East Quarterly (2007): 57-65. 3 Berman, Eleazar S. "Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009." Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 4 Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. 5 Assessing Hizbullah's Strength, 111th Cong., 6 (2010) (Testimony of Jeffrey D. Feltman and Daniel Benjamin). Pg 4. Specific figures on Hizbullah personnel can be found at Table 1. 6 Ibid 7 Ibid 8 Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. Pg 11-12 9 It should be noted that there is little to no data regarding Iranâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s new ATGM, the Toufan-5 10 Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. Print. Pg 6. 11 "Anti-Armor Weapons & Missiles." Guide to Military Equipment and Civil Aviation. Web. 06 Apr. 2011. <http://www.deagel.com/Anti-Armor-Weapons-and-Missiles.htm>. 12 Assessing Hizbullah's Strength, 111th Cong., 6 (2010) (testimony of Augustus Richard Norton). Print. 13 "Israel/MBTs and Medium Tanks." In Jane's Armor and Artillery . London: Jane's, 2010. 56. Those capabilities did not prevent the loss of 20 of these vehicles in 2006, so their effectivity may not be as high as touted 14 Military Balance . S.l.: Intl Inst For Strategic, 2011. Print. 15 Pollack, Kenneth M.. Arabs at War: Military Effectiveness, 1948-1991. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2002. 16 Mason, Douglas. An Assessment of the 2006 Israeli-Hezbollah War. Thesis. Joint Forces Staff College, 2009. Print.37-39 17 Mason, Douglas. An Assessment of the 2006 Israeli-Hezbollah War. Thesis. Joint Forces Staff College, 2009. Print.23 18 Makovsky, David, and Jeffrey White. In Lessons and implications of the Israel-Hizballah war: a preliminary assessment. Washington, D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. 52-54. 19 Mason, Douglas. An Assessment of the 2006 Israeli-Hezbollah War. Thesis. Joint Forces Staff College, 2009. Print.23 20 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. Print. 13-14 21 Mason, Douglas. An Assessment of the 2006 Israeli-Hezbollah War. Thesis. Joint Forces Staff College, 2009. Print.22 22 Ibid 23 23 Matthews, Matt. We Were Caught Unprepared: The 2006 Hezbollah-Israeli War. Fort Leavenworth, Kan.: U.S. Army Combined Arms Center, Combat Studies Institute Press, 2008. 29 24 Kulick, Amir. "Hizbollah vs. the IDF: The Operational Dimension." Strategic Assessment 9, no. 3 (2006): 3-5., 24 Rapaport, Amir. "The IDF and the Lessons of the Second Lebanon War." Mideast Security Studies and Policies 85 (2010): 23 1
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While wadi is generally translated as valley, it is more appropriately characterized as a shallow dry riverbed. From a tactical point of view, the high ground provides similar advantages to a valley, but the narrower nature of a wadi makes it more dangerous for armored units and other vehicles with low maneuverability. 26 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 21-25 27 Katz, Yaakov. "Wadi Saluki Battle - Microcosm of War's Mistakes." Jerusalem Post 29 Oct. 2006. 29 Oct. 2006. Web. 3 Apr. 2011. <http://www.jpost.com/Israel/Article.aspx?id=33202>. 28 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 25 29 Ibid 53 30 Rapaport, Amir. "The IDF and the Lessons of the Second Lebanon War." Mideast Security Studies and Policies 85 (2010): 15 31 Ibid 15 32 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 23 33 The last time the IDF engaged in large scale combat with anything close to a conventional force was 1982, a full 24 years earlier. 34 Matthews, Matt. We Were Caught Unprepared: The 2006 Hezbollah-Israeli War. Fort Leavenworth, Kan.: U.S. Army Combined Arms Center, Combat Studies Institute Press, 2008. Pg 47 35 Ibid 49 36 Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. Pg 10 37 Opall-Rome, Barbara. "Gaza War Is Battle Lab for Joint Combat Ops - Defense News." Defense News Breaking International Defense News. http://www.defensenews.com/story.php?i=4083045 (accessed April 25, 2011). 38 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 26 39 Opall-Rome, Barbara. "Gaza War Is Battle Lab for Joint Combat Ops - Defense News." Defense News Breaking International Defense News. http://www.defensenews.com/story.php?i=4083045 (accessed April 25, 2011). 40 Ibid 41 “Armed Forces, Israel,” Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment— Eastern Mediterranean, 13 January 2009. 42 Berman, Eleazar. Meeting the Hybrid Threat: The Israeli Defense Force's Innovations Against Hybrid Enemies, 2000-2009. Thesis. Georgetown University, 2010. 23 43 Rapaport, Amir. "The IDF and the Lessons of the Second Lebanon War." Mideast Security Studies and Policies 85 (2010): 15 44 Matthews, Matt. "The Israeli Defense Forces Response to the 2006 War with Hezbollah."Military Review 10 (2009): 43. 45 Ibid 44 46 For a visual representation of the positions see Figure 1. 47 Biddle, Stephen. "The 2006 Lebanon Campaign and the Future of Warfare." Strategic Studies 1 (2008): 6365. 48 Blanford, Nicholas. "Deconstructing Hizbullah's Surprise Military Prowess."Jane's Intelligence Review (2006): 21. 49 Biddle, Stephen. "The 2006 Lebanon Campaign and the Future of Warfare." Strategic Studies 1 (2008): 6365. 50 Ibid 66 51 Blanford, Nicholas. "Deconstructing Hizbullah's Surprise Military Prowess."Jane's Intelligence Review (2006): 23. 25
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Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. Pg 2-3 53 The majority of the infrastructure damage to roads and bridges has been repaired since 2006. 54 Assessing Hizbullah's Strength, 111th Cong., 6 (2010) (Testimony of 52
Jeffrey D. Feltman and Daniel Benjamin). Pg 4.
Wehrey, Frederic. "A Clash of Wills: Hizballah's Psychological Campaign against Israel in Southern Lebanon." Small Wars and Insurgencies 13, no. 3 (2002): 61. 56 Assessing Hizbullah's Strength, 111th Cong., 6 (2010) (testimony of Augustus Richard Norton). Print. 57 For further reading on the 2006 Lebanon-Israel Warâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hybrid characteristic see Biddle, Stephen. "The 2006 Lebanon Campaign and the Future of Warfare." Strategic Studies (2008) 58 Exum, Andrew. Hizballah at War. Rep. no. 63. Washington D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2006. Pg 7 59 Ibid 10 60 Assessing Hizbullah's Strength, 111th Cong., 6 (2010) (Testimony of 55
Jeffrey D. Feltman and Daniel Benjamin). Pg 4
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Spread the Word: Changing Social Attitudes Toward Sexual Violence in Truth and Reconciliation Amanda Lo, Georgetown University Introduction There have been studies explaining variations of sexual violence during war (Wood 2006), but not variations after war. Why do some countries continue to experience high levels of postwar sexual violence whereas other countries see a decrease in the level of postwar sexual violence? What factors during state building account for these variations? One of these factors involves reconstructing social norms to oppose sexual violence by including the establishment of a truth and reconciliation commission in the peacebuilding process. Various aspects of peacebuilding have been covered in the literature. The literature has focused on the effectiveness of intervention (Walter 1997 and Weinstein 2005), multidimensional peacekeeping (Doyle and Sambanis 2000) and foreign aid (Easterly 2003) in post-civil war states, as well as state building activities directed at economic growth and political democratization (Hartzell and Hoddie 2003). However, there has been little scholarly literature devoted to the effects of transitional justice mechanisms. While truth commissions have been increasingly popular for post-conflict states in addressing wartime human rights violations since the 1980s (Hayner 2010), not a lot of research has been conducted about the role truth and reconciliation commissions play in redressing wartime sexual violence committed against women and girls. Some research such as those of Kim and Sikkinkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s in 2010 and Ramj-Nogalesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s in 2010 touch upon the relationship between truth commissions and social norms, but there is little written about the effectiveness of transitional justice mechanisms in reconstructing social norms opposing sexual violence. The lack of literature on postwar sexual violence is likely because the need to address wartime sexual violence is a recent trend. The 1994 Rwandan genocide in which 500,000 women were raped was a turning point in the design of transitional justice mechanisms being more gender-sensitive (Scanlon and Muddell 2009). Furthermore, the international community only realized within the last decade that peacekeeping in post-conflict society needed to recognize sexual violence as a tactic of war, as well as the importance of rehabilitation for sexually-abused victims in the peace and security of post-conflict society (UN Resolution 1325 (2000) and 1820 (2008)). This paper will present a novel theory that the reduction in postwar level of sexual violence is a result of social norms reconstruction made possible by the presence of a truth and reconciliation commission. The structure of the paper is as follows: 1) A hypothesis and the appropriate mechanisms about the role of truth and reconciliation commission in reducing the postwar level of sexual violence, 2) case selection, 3) data, 4) a qualitative analysis of the proposed hypothesis in two cases 5) alternative explanations, 6) research limitations, 7) and a conclusion which includes a summary of findings, policy recommendations and future research questions.
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Argument Dependent Variable: Reduction in the postwar level of sexual violence Reduction is measured by the difference between the level of sexual violence during the period of conflict and the level of sexual violence after conflict termination. Reduction does not mean that sexual violence no longer happens in the country. Even in developed countries, sexual violence occurs at low levels. What is measured is whether there is a significant reduction in the level of sexual violence. Activities that fall under sexual violence are numerous and include killings, rape, sexual violence, sexual slavery, slave labor, abductions, assaults, amputations, forced pregnancy, detention, torture, enforced sterilization, trafficking, mutilations, enforced cannibalism (T&R, 2004). In the paper, the situation about rape will be used to proxy for sexual violence as a whole since rape occurs most frequently, and the trends observed about rape will reflect the overall trends on sexual violence. Independent Variable: Presence of an effective truth and reconciliation commission after conflict termination A truth and reconciliation commission is considered present after conflict termination if it is functioning, or has concrete steps to start operations immediately after the conclusion of war. A truth and reconciliation commission is considered non-existent even if it received a mandate to be established if it is incapable of functioning and has no plans to begin operations. Hypothesis: I hypothesize that the presence of an effective truth and reconciliation commission after conflict termination will create social norms more protective of women that will reduce the country’s postwar level of sexual violence. On the other hand, social norms that are protective of women will not emerge in countries that lack, or have an ineffective, truth and reconciliation commission after conflict. The four-step norm-changing mechanism occurring in the presence of a truth and reconciliation commission: A truth and reconciliation commission (TRC) put in place after war will lead to a reconstruction of social norms through a four-step norm-changing mechanism. Postwar levels of sexual violence will be reduced because of the changes in the country’s social norms. Step 1: Evidence-gathering and documentation Step 2: Public Awareness Information about victims, perpetrators and sexual violence will be made public through hearings conducted by the TRC. In this process, sexual violence such as rape is no longer an “invisible” war crime but a “public” crime. Step 2: Public Awareness Step 3: Support for Women Public discussion about the wrongness of rape will signal support for women in speaking out against sexual abuse. In this process, rape is no longer just a “public” crime, but an act condemned by society. Step 3: Support for Women Step 4: Changed attitudes toward sexual violence Support for women will lead to fundamental changes like the reconstruction of social norms that oppose sexual violence. In this process, prior social condemnation of rape will push for new societal attitudes that oppose rape. In light of the new social norms against rape, former and potential perpetrators will be deterred from raping women. -121-
Case Selection The paper will assess the theory by drawing comparisons between two African countries, Sierra Leone and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Selection was based on factors crucial to the study: the level of sexual violence, the presence of a truth and reconciliation commission, social norms and postwar conditions. Factors: Sexual Violence and the creation of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission Rape is widely accepted to be a weapon of war in most conflicts. Therefore, case selection was limited to countries that had experienced high levels of sexual violence. The DRC was chosen because the phenomenon of rape there is the worst in the world and therefore an important case to study. I chose Sierra Leone because it was in the same continent and also experienced a high level of sexual violence during war. Approximately 50,000 to 64,000 women suffered sexual abuse in the Sierra Leone conflict (Physicians for Human Rights 2002). In order to compare wartime and postwar level of sexual violence, the years of conflict in Sierra Leone is defined from 1991-2002, and the years of conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo will be that of the Second Congo War, from 1998-2003. Also, Sierra Leone was one of the two African countries that had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission established after conflict ended. Liberia is the other country, and the success of their TRC is yet to be known since it only concluded its operations recently in 2009. Factors: Country conditions These two countries share an extremely similar likelihood of having a prevalent dominant social norm. The ethnolinguistic and religious fractionalization score in Sierra Leone is 0.68 and 0.67 in the DRC. The closer the score is to zero, the lower the fractionalization (Annett calculations based on Barrett 1982). If natural resources had made the war more violent and made rape more likely, both countries have significant natural resource wealth. Diamond mining accounted for 46% of Sierra Leone’s export in 2008, and export revenues from all mining activities made up 76% of total exports (Dept. of Interior, 2010). There is an estimated $24trillion worth of untapped deposits of raw mineral ores, mostly of cobalt in the DRC (Morgan, 2009). Factors: Postwar conditions Both conflicts ended in negotiated peace settlements. Peace was negotiated between the RUF rebels and the government and resulted in the Lomé Peace Agreement in Sierra Leone. Several peace accords were signed in the DRC: the Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement 1999, Sun City Agreement 2002, Luanda Agreement 2002, Global and All-Inclusive Agreement 2002. U.N. peacekeeping forces were present in both countries, UNAMSIL in Sierra Leone, and MONUC in the DRC, which is the largest and most expensive UN peacekeeping force to date.
Data Case 1: Sierra Leone Independent Variable: Presence of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission In Sierra Leone, the creation of a Truth and Reconciliation Commissioned was an integral part of the peace process. On July 7 1999, Kabbah’s government and RUF rebels signed the Lomé Peace Agreement. The peace agreement granted controversial amnesty to both sides, except in instances where international humanitarian law was violated, crimes against humanity and war crimes would not be pardoned as well. To counterbalance the amnesty granted, the peace agreement -122-
mandated the creation of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Sierra Leone and the establishment of a national human rights commission. The TRC was supposed to be created within ninety days of the signing of the peace agreement (July 7 1999), but only began its operations three years later in May 2002. The process of creation was delayed due to the lack of political will of the government of Sierra Leone and the international community. During these years, the TRC suffered from renewed fighting between the two parties, funding difficulties, and to render the TRC as an independent body, it was created after the May 2002 elections to avoid TRC’s activities being politicized. On May 13 2002, the seven Commissioners were announced. Four of them were Sierra Leonean, and the other three international Commissioners came from Gambia, South Africa and Canada. The TRC was one of the two transitional justice mechanisms operating in Sierra Leone at the conclusion of the civil war, the other being the Special Court of Sierra Leone (SCSL). In the short term, the TRC’s task was to find out the truth, which meant documenting as much as possible the violations committed by various fighting groups during the civil war. Its principal function was to “create an impartial historical record of violations and abuses of human rights and international humanitarian law related to the armed conflict in Sierra Leone” (T&R, 2004). In the long run, the TRC would facilitate the peace process and reconciliation between warring groups. It was one way to deliver justice to victims, make perpetrators accountable for their crimes, and avoid future repetition of past crimes and atrocities. According to Article 26 (1) of the Lomé Peace Agreement, the goal of the TRC was to “address impunity, break the cycle of violence, provide a forum for both the victims and perpetrators of human rights violations to tell their story, [and] get a clear picture of the past in order to facilitate genuine healing and reconciliation” (Human Rights Watch, 2003). One point worth clarifying is that the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) is distinct from the Special Court of Sierra Leone (SCSL). The Special Court of Sierra Leone was another transitional justice mechanism that was implemented at the same time as the TRC, but the SCSL was a hybrid court, relying on domestic and international laws, and had the capacity to prosecute those who bore the greatest responsibilities for serious violations of international humanitarian law. The structure of the TRC reflected its mission of delivering truth and promoting reconciliation. One of the two units in the TRC was the Information Management Unit, which was responsible for investigation and research. This involved documenting and researching items such as key events, causes, patterns of abuse, and parties responsible. The time period the TRC was responsible for began from 1991 and ended at the signing of the Lomé Peace Agreement in 1999. The second unit was the Legal and Reconciliation Unit, which was in charge of activities that fostered reconciliation. Through these two units, the TRC would carry out its three main activities: statement taking, hearings and report writing. The objectives of statement taking include: estimating the magnitude of the conflict, the responsibilities of armed actors, identifying the profiles of victims and perpetrators, and documenting specific cases of violence. Hearings were either public or private. In public hearings, victims, leaders, and ex-militants gave their statements in front of the Commissioners and a public audience. Private hearings were conducted when dealing with sensitive issues such as sexual violence, and only certain Commissioners participated in these. The report writing culminated in a 1500 page report that was released in 2004 about the TRC’s findings. The TRC in Sierra Leone had several unique components that were designed to address the extraordinary number of sexual offenses committed against women during the war. First, the TRC Act specifies that the Commission give special attention to subjects of sexual abuse and to implement special procedures to address their needs (Human Rights Watch, 2003). Second, the TRC partnered with the United Nations Fund for Women in their operations to ensure that gender-based violence was accounted for. The partnership was successful and enabled the TRC’s final report to highlight the crimes perpetrated against women (Ben-Ari and Harsch, 2005). Third, the partnership -123-
ensured the sufferings of women and children would be recognized in the hearings. A Special Thematic Hearings on Women took place in Freetown from 22-24 May 2003. It was widely attended, and there was even a march to the hearing led by the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Social Welfare, Gender and Children’s Affairs, and many women activists and women’s organizations participated in the march as well (T&R, 2004). Dependent Variable: Reduction in postwar level of sexual violence The level of sexual violence committed against women during the war was much higher than the observed postwar level of sexual violence committed against women. A survey conducted in 2002 by Physicians for Human Rights found that the prevalence rate of conflict-related sexual violence was 9 percent. Based on this prevalence rate, around 50,000 to 64,000 internally displaced women in Sierra Leone were subjects of sexual violence during the war (Physicians for Human Rights, 2002). Compared to the situation seven years later in 2009, the latest year for which figures exist, 927 cases of rape and other forms of sexual assault were reported, according to data released by Human Rights Watch World Report 2011 on Sierra Leone (Human Rights Watch, 2011). Though the creation of Family Support Units in police stations have encouraged reporting of rape, the estimated number is most likely to be higher since sexually abused victims are often stigmatized in society and Sierra Leone’s judiciary system remains weak (U.S. State Dept., 2011). Nevertheless, while rape and gender-based violence problems persist for Sierra Leone, the postwar level of sexual violence is significantly lower than wartime level. Norm-changing Mechanism Step 1: Evidence-gathering and documentation The TRC gathered a significant amount of data on crimes perpetrated against women in the Sierra Leone conflict. This was made possible through the partnership with the United Nations Fund for Women. In the report released by Sierra Leone’s TRC, a chapter is entirely dedicated to describing the plight of women in war. Among the 10,002 adult victims interviewed, 33.5% were female. Over 800 statements from women and girls reporting and describing rape were recorded. The types of sexual violence committed against women in the Sierra Leone conflict were recorded and included: killing, rape, sexual slavery, slave labor, forced pregnancy, disembowelment of pregnant women, torture, trafficking, mutilations, and enforced sterilization (T&R, 2004). In the two lists of victims in the report, the first list was devoted to victims of sexual violence and forced conscription. 1012 victims of these violations were named (T&R, 2004). Here is an example of a statement given to the TRC by a woman who suffered sexual violation in the war. It is extremely detailed. “After the attacks on Bandajuma Sinneh, around 12.00 noon, the RUF rebels entered my village. On my way to my house I was captured by an RUF rebel called Allieu. He then told me to go with him, but I refused to go. He said if I didn’t go with him, he will kill me. My mother was afraid of the rebel, so for him not to kill me, she then persuaded me to go with him. When we arrived in Bandajuma Sinneh, two RUF rebels joined us…In Bandajuma, I was taken into a house, laid on the bare ground under gunpoint. All three of these rebels had sexual intercourse with me. They did it one after the other – it was gang rape…They were doing it with impunity, telling me they will rape me to death. After that I became unconscious…” (TRC -124-
confidential statement from a female victim, recorded in Gbangbatoke, 5 February 2003) Step 2: Public Awareness The TRC in Sierra Leone conducted public and private hearings to generate public awareness about the abuses and violations committed by the different groups during the conflict. Hearings lasted for four months, beginning on 14 April 2003 and ended on 5 August 2003. There were daily hearings in the capital, Freetown during the first two weeks. Hearings were conducted in alternate weeks thereafter on thematic issues. Weekly hearings were held in the districts. While attendance was low in hearings in Freetown, public attendance was much higher in district hearings. On average, more than 100 people showed up to the district hearings. To reach as wide an audience as possible, the TRC partnered with state and private media to broadcast their hearings live. The State television, SLBS would broadcast a 45-minute summary of the hearings each night. Radio was used heavily since it was the most popular communication method in the country and also because the majority of the population was illiterate.1 Step 3: Support for Women The population demonstrated support for women and girls by attending public hearings that the Commission held regarding issues about women. These hearings often achieved full-house attendance (T&R, 2004). The TRC in its organization of hearings also demonstrated a lot of support and attention for survivors of sexual violence. Each week of public hearings was followed by one day of closed hearings. Closed hearings were attended only by female Commissioners and female staff. Here, female victims of sexual violence gave their testimonies. The public was not allowed in and the hearings were held in camera and recorded electronically to avoid the victims being identified. Surprisingly, many women wanted to speak in public because they wanted the community to hear their stories (T&R, 2004). Step 4: Changed attitudes toward sexual violence Postwar social attitudes towards sexual violence reflect a higher respect for the physical integrity of women and a desire to provide better legal protection for women. Prior the civil war, sexual violence was not really considered a crime. Only the rape of virgin was a crime, rape of married women or non-virgins were not viewed as criminal acts (Human Rights Watch, 2003). Within three years after the TRC ended its operations in October 2004, the Sierra Leonean government had passed laws that addressed the low status of women. Sierra Leonean law prohibits rape, which is punishable up to 14 years in prison. In 2005, human trafficking was outlawed. The 2007 Gender Acts saw punishment for domestic violence, a raise in the legal age of marriage to 18 and consent from both parties was required for marriage. Property was to be equally distributed between the deceased spouse and children (IRIN, 2007). In addition, Family Support Units were created in police stations to support rape reporting (Teale, 2008). Overall, Sierra Leoneans viewed the activities of the TRC to have been successful. 73% thought it was “good” or “excellent” in contributing towards reconciliation (BBC, 2008). Case 2: Democratic Republic of Congo Independent Variable: Presence of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission There was no effective and functioning Truth and Reconciliation Commission in the Democratic Republic of Congo after peace accords were signed. While the establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission was included in the peace process, just like the case in Sierra Leone, the TRC in the Democratic Republic of Congo was ineffective, and basically nonexistent. In the Sun -125-
City Agreement signed in 2003, the peace agreement included a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It would be part of the transitional government and would help facilitate the peace process. In 2004, the TRC was signed into law by the president of the transitional government, Joseph Kabila. It was responsible for investigating crimes that took place beginning from Independence in 1960 up till the signing of peace accords in 2002. However, the establishment of TRC was unsuccessful. Not a single case was opened after three years of its existence. The TRC was officially dismantled after the elections in 2006 (Chaco, 2009). The TRC failed due to political and financial difficulties, and also because the international community and domestic government lacked political will. The most important factor was the lack of support it received from the transitional government. The leaders of the new government were former warlords and members of the regime who did not want to be caught giving testimonies about their crimes in the TRC. As a result, they blocked the TRC’s attempts to carry out investigations. The United Nations Development Program contributed financial assistance towards the creation of a TRC, but the transitional government did not. Furthermore, the creation of the TRC was complicated by political biases. The Commissioners that were appointed represented the different political forces, but they were viewed as biased, because they had many close, informal ties with those who were implicated in the crimes (USIP, 2003). The TRC also did not receive full-hearted support from the international community. There was little collaboration between international organizations and the TRC, and little assistance was given to support TRC’s activities. The international community predicted that it would be difficult to carry out investigations in militarized areas in North and South Kivu provinces where rape was most serious. They also had little faith in the corrupt, transitional government and did not believe that the TRC would be successful (Jacques, 2009). The U.N. peacekeeping force in the DRC, MONUC did not want to support the TRC unless it was guaranteed to be independent from the executive branch (USIP, 2003). What has taken the place of a TRC in the Democratic Republic of Congo is an “Amani” process that began in January 2008 to restore peace in the North and South Kivu provinces (Chaco, 2009). Its aim is to foster the reconciliation process between the fighting groups, similar to the broad goals of a TRC. While the creation of a TRC has failed, there is support within the Congolese population about establishing a new TRC (Chaco, 2009). Dependent Variable: Reduction in postwar level of sexual violence There has been no significant reduction in the level of sexual violence committed against women in the Democratic Republic of Congo after the war’s end in 2003. Instead, the DRC has been named “the rape capital of the world” by the UN (CNN, 2011). It has been difficult to find accurate estimates of sexual violence committed against women during the war period of 1998-2003. Human Rights Watch writes that “tens of thousands of women and girls have suffered horrific acts of sexual violence” (Human Rights Watch, 2009). Based on research conducted by Amnesty International and other organizations, and investigations by filmmakers of the documentary, The Greatest Silence: Rape in the Congo, it is likely that 75,000 to 150,000 women have been raped during the war. Determining the postwar level of sexual violence has not been easier either. Sexual violence continued in the DRC throughout the peace process and continues today. The United Nations Population Fund reported 15,996 cases of sexual violence in 2008, with 4820 of them occurring in North Kivu (Human Rights Watch, 2009). In 2009, 15,000 women were raped in eastern Congo, according to the UN (“ICRtoP”). U.N. statistics are a low-end estimate since their records are based on the number of women who sought legal or health services. Only 50% of women who are raped gain access to health centers (Human Rights Watch, 2009). Many acts of sexual violence remain underreported. On the high-end estimate, a survey conducted by the American Journal of Public -126-
Health finds 48 women raped per hour, which translates to 420,480 Congolese women being raped in 2007 (Peterman et al., 2011). Norm-changing Mechanism Step 1: Evidence-gathering and documentation The level of sexual violence committed during the Second Congo War is high, but it is not thoroughly documented and the number of sexual abuse cases is severely underreported. Reporting is impeded because of fear of stigmatization. Women are stigmatized and often abandoned by their husband and communities because they have been raped. A lot of women do not report about them being raped because it is seen as futile. The judiciary system in the DRC is weak and corrupt and complaints will not be taken seriously and perpetrators often get away without punishment. For example, in 2003, one rape conviction of a low-ranking soldier in Bukavu was seen as exceptional (Human Rights Watch, 2009). The situation has not improved after the warâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s conclusion in 2003. In 2005-2007, only 2% of the perpetrators were called into account among the 14,200 rape cases reported in South Kivu (UN, 2008). There have been attempts to document the violations and abuses in the Second Congo War, but these efforts have been limited. The United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights started a DRC Mapping Exercise in 2008. The mapping exercise was instructed to map out serious violations of human rights committed between March 1993 and June 2003 in each province of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The focus is to gather as much information as possible, whether it is physical evidence or potential witnesses, so that the data collected can allow for more in-depth investigations in the future (Swedish, 2008). Furthermore, investigation activities have been carried out in a haphazard manner, rather than in a systematic and centralized process. Most investigations about human right violations in general have been led by local NGOs. MONUC, the UN peacekeeping force in the DRC, has an investigation unit that collects information (Swedish, 2008). There has not been a designated agency or organization focused on information gathering in the DRC. Step 2: Public Awareness There is some awareness in postwar society about the horrific crimes perpetrated against women in the DRC. The New York Times reported on a public gathering in Bukavu in 2008 called together by local and international aid groups to give rape survivors a chance to tell the public about their experiences. The audience was varied, including high-ranking politicians and even street kids. There are activists going to villages spreading the message that rape is wrong (Gettleman, 2008). Civil society has been actively trying to change the culture and encouraging women to speak out by creating forums like the gathering mentioned, for female victims to tell the community what they have suffered. Step 3: Support for Women Despite rampant sexual violence in the DRC, there are groups in the population that are showing solidarity with female victims and demonstrating public support for their recovery. In October 2010, thousands of Congolese women marched to protest against sexual violence in eastern DRC. What is surprising is that the march was led by the First Lady of the DRC, Marie Olive Kabila (Reuters, 2010). There are also menâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s groups formed to support women and to stop rape in the DRC (Gettleman, 2008). Step 4: Changed attitudes toward sexual violence -127-
Unfortunately, rape is the norm in Congolese society today. This is reflected by the increase in civilian rape that occurred in the years after 2003 - about 38% of assaults in 2008 were committed by civilians (Harvard, 2010). As a result of widespread rape during the war, a kind of “normalization” of sexual violence is taking place. “Congolese men acknowledged that rape had become a norm for young males who had grown up during the conflict in Eastern DRC” (Harvard, 2010). Previous social norms that discouraged civilians from sexual violence had eroded, and rape is a common part of daily life now.
Analysis Step 1 Evidence-gathering and Documentation Step 2 Public Awareness Case 1: Sierra Leone The Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s mandate was to create an impartial historical record of the violations and abuses committed during the Sierra Leone conflict. Statement taking was one of the Commission’s activities and it was able to collect a high number of female victim’s experiences in great detail. Public hearings were a part of the Commission’s main activities as well, and they were effective in getting the public to recognize the sexual abuses committed against women in the conflict. Nowrojee, who was present at a thematic hearing on women, says the TRC helped bring light to Sierra Leone’s “invisible war crime” by having rape survivors give testimonies in hearings (Nowrojee, 2005). While the public hearings were conducted after the statement taking stage was finished, there appears to be no direct relationship between the two. The Commission viewed the two tasks as equally necessary and important. The success of the hearings did not depend on the success of the statement taking process. Case 2: Democratic Republic of Congo Since there was effectively no TRC in place in the Democratic Republic of Congo after the war, there was no institution responsible for gathering information. While the general consensus is that the level of sexual violence committed against women during the war was high, there is no accurate estimation of the number of women who were raped. However, the lack of systematic information collecting has not prevented awareness about the wrongness of rape being generated in Congolese society. In fact, the public gathering in Bukavu is one instance where rape survivors speak about their experiences. Rape, an “invisible war crime” is now made visible. Prior to these women speaking out, rape was a “private” crime committed by soldier(s) against a woman during the war that was not spoken of. Now, it is no longer “private” but a “public” crime that everybody, besides those involved in the crime knows. The information gathering process in the DRC was not as extensive as that of in Sierra Leone, and there were no systematic and organized hearings like those of the TRC in Sierra Leone. However, public awareness about the horrific crimes of sexual violence was still possible in Congolese society. Findings 1. To reconstruct social norms in a society, getting public awareness is more important than gathering information about the violations. a. The first step to reconstructing social norms is to transform the nature of rape from a “private” crime to a “public” crime. It appears that having gatherings or hearings where women can speak out about their sexual abuse during the war can achieve this effect. -128-
b. Public awareness success does not necessarily depend on information gathering. Information gathering does not seem to be that important in changing the nature of the crime. Information gathering may be useful for other aspects of transitional justice such as historical understanding and criminal prosecution. 2. The presence of a TRC can facilitate public awareness, but it is not the only method. a. Without a TRC in place, local and international aid groups were able to convene a public gathering and raise awareness among the public about rape. b. However, the TRC can facilitate that process. The TRC in Sierra Leone was able to reach out to the whole country, even to remote communities, because they were more organized and had the assistance of private and public media. 3. Step 1 is not necessary in order to progress to Step 2 a. Information gathering and documentation is not necessary to achieve public awareness. b. It is more important to achieve public awareness if norms regarding women are to be reconstructed. Step 2 Public Awareness Step 3 Support for Women Case 1: Sierra Leone In Sierra Leone, public awareness raised by the TRC through the hearings was able to turn into more broad-based support for women. The hearings addressing issues about women and children were well attended. The public was coming together to listen to women discuss their experiences. In the process, the community was acknowledging that horrific crimes had been committed. Otherwise, attendance would have been low at these hearings if the community did not want to talk and hear about past violations. In the discussions and debates in the hearings, difficult issues about women being sexually abused and past wrongdoings are confronted. This shows that there is a growing attention regarding women’s situation and signs of the beginnings of a community-wide change in views about women. Case 2: Democratic Republic of Congo In the DRC, some level of public awareness was achieved without the assistance of a TRC. Furthermore, there appears to be some support among certain groups in changing the low status of women in society. Activists have been going to villages spreading the message that rape is wrong. The protest led by the First Lady has encouraged women to come out and show that women will no longer tolerate being sexually abused. Men’s groups are also being formed to protest against rape. However, the change does not appear to be as broad as it was in Sierra Leone. There is some condemnation of rape in society. Groups are organizing and leading activities to change the culture about rape. However, unlike the Sierra Leone public hearings where perpetrators also give statements and confront their crimes, there has been no equivalent body like the TRC that includes perpetrators in the peace process. As a result, the condemnation of rape is one-sided, originating from victims and supporters of victims, but perpetrators are not confronted. Findings 1. Public awareness leads to more broad-based community support for women in society by condemning rape. Rape is condemned by the community when it acknowledges that rape is a crime. However, the change is only broad-based if awareness is not just focused on women’s victimization, but also includes the community witnessing perpetrators acknowledging their past mistakes. 2. Step 2 facilitates Step 3 -129-
a. Public awareness can help the community to demonstrate broad-based support for women b. It is important to include victims and perpetrators and combatants in the public awareness process 3. Looking back from Step 1 to Step 3, Step 2 is the most important a. Information gathering is not necessary to achieve public awareness. Public awareness can facilitate norm-changing. A well-rounded public awareness campaign leads to a more developed and broader community support for women. Step 3 Support for Women ď&#x192; Step 4 Changed attitudes toward sexual violence Case 1: Sierra Leone The TRC in Sierra Leone helped create broad-based community support for condemning rape, and Sierra Leonean society continues to make progress. Support for women has moved from a local community level to the national level. The Sierra Leonean government has enacted laws that protect women, which suggests that a process of social norms reconstruction is taking place. The change that originated from communities is being institutionalized through the new laws. Institutionalization of norms can consolidate the norm changes achieved in the transitional justice period. Norm changes are more likely to continue when they are integrated into the legal system. Case 2: Democratic Republic of Congo Some level of support for women was achieved in the DRC by various NGOs, but the support was not widespread enough. The local support did not translate into a society-wide transformation of social norms. Reconstruction of social norms that were more protective of women did not happen. Rather, a reverse transformation took place. Instead of seeing norms that were more protective of women, norms emerging after war were less protective of women. As a result, the incidence of sexual violence remained high. While rape had predominantly been conducted by soldiers as a â&#x20AC;&#x153;weapon of warâ&#x20AC;?, Congolese society experienced an increase in civilian rape after the war. The brutalization of society through war made social norms more tolerant of rape. Young males who had grown up during the conflict think rape is the norm. The culture of impunity is deeply entrenched in Congolese society. Findings 1. Reconstruction of social norms is important in reducing postwar level of sexual violence. If social norms are not structured to be protective of women, the culture of impunity in wartime will continue into the postwar period and become a part of the transitional society. Social norms supporting rape like those in the DRC will make it extremely difficult to end the cycle of sexual violence that started during conflict. 2. The success of Step 4 depends on the success of Step 3. a. Countries, like Sierra Leone, that achieve broad-based community support for women are more likely to experience a success in achieving social-wide reconstruction of social norms. b. Countries, like the DRC, that did not include perpetrators in the peace process, have a relatively less broad-based support for women, and may not experience social-wide reconstruction of social norms 3. Looking back from Step 1 to Step 4, moving from Step 3 to Step 4 is the most difficult. a. Without a TRC, the DRC was able to achieve some level of public awareness about rape. However, its lack of broad-based community support for women meant it was unable to break the culture of impunity. A country without a TRC may be able to -130-
succeed initially by getting public awareness. However, to achieve long-term change through norms reconstruction is much more difficult. b. The hardest and also the most important step is to make the leap from community support to a fundamental change in norms in the national culture. It is the hardest because local support may not translate to the national level. It is most important because norms can be institutionalized at the national level. Alternative Explanations One way truth and reconciliation commissions reduce sexual violence in post-conflict society is by creating social norms that oppose sexual violence. It is possible that a truth and reconciliation commission reduces postwar sexual violence through other mechanisms. An alternate mechanism may be through the recommendations the truth and reconciliation commission gives to the government. Reduction in postwar sexual violence occurs not because of a change in social attitudes but because the truth commission gives recommendations that is used by the government to pass laws that target the reduction of sexual violence such as punishing sexual perpetrators and improving the status of women in the family and society. However, making laws based on those recommendations requires political will, while the change in social attitudes depends less on the political will of the government. Also, even if the laws are protective of womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rights, if social norms do not support womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rights, then the laws are essentially ineffective. Laws are far more effective if the underlying social norms have changed and oppose sexual violence. Perhaps, a truth and reconciliation commission may not be necessary to bring down levels of sexual violence in post-conflict society. Maybe all that is necessary is an international criminal tribunal that can prosecute those who were most responsible for the widespread human rights abuses in the war. Setting up an international criminal tribunal to try these leaders may be sufficient. However, this method would not be very effective if we are dealing with such widespread crimes. Since a large part of the population was involved in these abuses, it is necessary that the solution be as inclusive of the population as possible. The most effective reconciliation will take place at the individual level, where as many perpetrators as possible will acknowledge their crimes, and as many victims as possible will speak about their experiences. To prevent future massive human rights abuses, there needs to be a mechanism that can allow this kind of micro-level reconciliation. International criminal tribunals are not sufficient, but truth and reconciliation commissions are able to do this. A Commission will document and record individual acts of rapes, and engage the community in public hearings. Of course, reconstructing social norms is not the only way to reduce postwar level of sexual violence. Improving womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rights after a civil war requires a lot of institutional changes and social changes, and changing social attitudes towards sexual violence is only one of them. Nevertheless, reconstructing social norms is an important step as a society progresses to be more inclusive and respectful of women. Limitations There are several limitations in this study. First, there are some weaknesses associated with case selection. The two cases are located in Africa and the findings may not necessarily hold true in cases outside of Africa. Also, there are some variables that were not controlled for. The war in Democratic Republic of Congo involved other states, which is very different from the type of conflict that occurred in Sierra Leone. Hence, the level of sexual violence and the dynamics between sexual perpetrators and rape victims would be quite different between the two cases. In addition, the DRC being the second largest country in Africa is a much larger country in terms of area, and also a much more populous country. The DRC has a total population of 71 million compared to 5 million in Sierra Leone. -131-
Second, the data available is not quite reliable. In general, collecting data during conflict is already difficult. However, collecting data about sexual violence is much harder because of the nature of the crime. Rape is often stigmatized in society, and women who have been raped are unwilling to report it. Today, there is still no official count on the number of rapes in the DRC and there are large variations in the estimated figures. Third, given that there has not been a lot of research on gender justice in post-conflict societies, the findings in this study may not necessarily hold true in other cases. The TRC in Sierra Leone is one of the few that address crimes against women and girls and use gender-sensitive strategies in their work. Moreover, gender justice is the exception than rule in post-conflict societies (Scanlon and Muddell, 2009). Perhaps, Sierra Leoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s truth and reconciliation commission succeeded because of unique circumstances.
Conclusion Summary Overall, the findings show that the presence of a truth and reconciliation commission can facilitate the reconstruction of social norms in postwar society. However, reconstruction of social norms is still possible if a truth and reconciliation commission does not exist. However, in that case, the transformations in social norms will be limited and they will be insufficient to cause a reduction of sexual violence after the war. This is the situation that is happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo. We see some public awareness and new social norms that oppose the continuation of rape, but without a truth and reconciliation commission, the DRC was unable to make this small change in social norms expand and create a national effect. On the other hand, the truth and reconciliation commission in Sierra Leone was able from the beginning to make changes in social norms a part of the local community, which allowed for a more broad-based support for new social norms against sexual violence to emerge. This proved crucial since the changes in social attitudes were able to become a nation-wide phenomenon and cause a fundamental change in Sierra Leonean culture about rape and sexual violence against women. Policy Implications To date, there have been a total of twenty four truth and reconciliation commissions established in countries that had experienced civil war. Given the number of civil wars occurring, there is a lot of potential for truth and reconciliation commissions to be developed and applied in more post-civil war states. The commission established in Sierra Leone has been relatively successful in addressing wartime sexual violence. Since 2004 in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the Coalition for Transitional Justice, which comprises a group of NGOs has been advocating for more transitional justice measures, and the creation of a new truth and reconciliation commission has been suggested (Swedish, 2008). For policymakers, more attention should be paid to the design of truth and reconciliation commissions to ensure it is tailored to the situation of the country after the end of hostilities. For example, in Sierra Leone, given the widespread wartime sexual abuse, the truth and commission paid particular attention to this aspect of the war. It included research and investigations about women who had been raped and included specific recommendations to the government of Sierra Leone that would improve the status of women and girls. However, Sierra Leoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s truth and reconciliation commission was successful in including a gender component because it received external assistance. This points out that donors and the international community can assist peacebuilding efforts by providing technical assistance in the setup of transitional justice mechanisms. In particular, the United Nations Development Fund for -132-
Women has helped deliver gender justice in Sierra Leone and Burundi, two countries that have witnessed high levels of wartime sexual violence. In Sierra Leone, it provided training for commissioners and staff to respond to the needs of women. In Burundi, it assisted in amending the Charter of the Bashingantahe, the traditional judicial institution for conflict, to allow for more effective involvement of women (UN Women). Furthermore, truth and reconciliation commission alone cannot help a society move towards peace and reconciliation. There must be institutions that support the work of a truth and reconciliation commission in order for its work to be effective. Possible projects that policymakers can work on include: judiciary and law reform, poverty alleviation, providing incentives for the government to support the truth commission, and to ensure the independence and legitimacy of the commission. Future Research Questions This study raises several questions for further study in understanding how transitional justice mechanisms can shape norms in postwar society. First of all, more extensive research and analysis on the normative pressures of truth and reconciliation commissions should be carried out. Can truth and reconciliation commissions change social norms in other countries? Do truth and reconciliation commissions deliver gender justice not by reconstructing social norms but through another unexplored mechanism? Can truth and reconciliation commissions change social attitudes for all kinds of post-conflict issues? What are the conditions that favor a successful truth and reconciliation commission and what are the conditions that do not? In addition, more quantitative work is necessary to improve our understanding of wartime sexual violence in civil wars. Gathering numerical data on rapes, we may be able to find out more patterns about rape, potentially identify new variables that may be related to rape, learn more about the demographics of rape victims and sexual perpetrators. Statistics complemented with testimonials from women and girls will provide a more complex understanding of the situation. Besides understanding the wartime situation better, we will also get a more accurate understanding of the postwar situation. For example, we can see whether there is a decreasing or increasing trend in the use of sexual violence after war. This is hard to evaluate based only on qualitative evidence. All the descriptions are based on Sierra Leoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report, Witness to Truth: Report of the Sierra Leone Truth & Reconciliation Commission. Rep. 2004. 1
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A New Euro-Norm: Socialization and LGB in the EU Christian Lambert, Georgetown University Introduction “We want to join the European Union, not Sodom and Gomorrah,” commented a Romanian MP in 2001 regarding his vote against a national LGB1 rights measure required as part of the EU’s membership conditionality package for Romania.2 In many respects, this Romanian MP’s perspective succinctly demonstrated one particular obstacle posed to the project of European integration3 in the last decade: namely, the question of the LGB community’s role within the broader European identity. As Central and Eastern European countries (CEECs) brought along conflicting identities and values during accession, the EU’s expansion in the new millennium drove this question to the fore of public debate. While the old EU struggled to reconcile its previous notions of Europe with the identities of its new members, questions of European identity came to have a very direct import in the lives of Europeans. Indeed, the new millennium witnessed a profound shift in the focus of the EU, as the mostly economic lens of previous decades gave way to one equally concerned with social questions as well.4 In a certain sense, this switch in perspective began with the 1993 adoption of the EU name itself, since to participate in an international integration project called the European Union was by its very nature to stake a claim to an implicitly formulated European identity.5 The later accession of various CEECs, however, subjected this European identity to an extended period of profound questioning. Most of the acceding states had recently emerged into post-totalitarianism with newfound national identities, often related to conservative and even religious pre-communist identities, in contrast to the old EU’s gradual push for liberal social policies that began with gender mainstreaming in the 1990s.6 Meanwhile, the social gap between Western and Eastern Europe survived the fall of the Iron Curtain intact as the old EU members reconfigured the stereotype of Eastern Europe as a source of cheap labor, whose identities were based on values vastly different from those of Western Europe.7 Thus the new millennium was marked by a re-envisioning of the EU as a values community and a tense struggle to determine exactly whose values would come to define the identity of Europe as a whole. It was into this fraught tension that the Romanian MP cast his vote against a Europe marked by support for the LGB community; the anti-discrimination measure passed, and within a few short years Romania was admitted to the EU. Nevertheless, this ostensible victory for the LGB community was hardly a simple matter, and actual compliance with the anti-discrimination measure was several years delayed. During that period, the European LGB community faced major obstacles well represented by the caricatured figure of this MP. On the one hand, the EU lacked prior competence and experience in LGB issues; on the other, publics in most CEECs were characterized by active discrimination in comparison with Western Europe. Still, the Romanian MP’s quote indicates a clear identification of Europe conflated with support for the LGB community. -134-
Considering the nearly total lack of official EU involvement in LGB issues prior to the Framework Employment Directive of 2000, at no point was the demarcation of support for LGB as a European value an inevitable goal. This paper, then, begins with a simple inquiry: how did the association of European identity with LGB progress8 come about? More to the point, how have the 2004 and 2007 expansions affected LGB progress within the EU? In this regard, LGB progress is indicated not only by expanded legal protections, but also by the internalization of support for LGB, as indicated by state behavior, civil and cultural signifiers, and lived experience of LGB; rather than focus on particular national phenomena, this paper hopes to capture the transnational macroprocesses of European and LGB identity. With particular regard to EU expansion, an obvious starting point might make recourse to rationalist descriptions of membership conditionality; accordingly, acceding CEEC governments would be expected to compare the costs of domestic mobilization against the benefits of EU membership. Negotiations involve a bargaining game between CEECs and the EU, and CEECs’ calculations of compliance costs come to rest upon the credibility of the EU’s implicit threats. Whereas conditionality has been shown to be an effective tool of coercion in other issue areas where the EU can maintain credibility, evidence indicates that this was not the case regarding LGB issues, for the EU’s prior lack of competence in LGB issues belied its ability to make credible commitments in the bargaining game of negotiations. Ultimately, the instrument of conditionality was at best ambiguous in its results for European LGB. Instead, the conflation of Europe and support for LGB has come about largely through the socialization, as predicted by constructivist theory. In brief, actors enter social interactions and leave as changed entities; norms and preferences are not immutable functions of a state. Microprocesses of socialization range from the psychological mechanisms of social influence and social sanctioning – respectively described by one international institutions scholar as backpatting and opprobrium – to the communicative action mechanisms of persuasion.9 This is an admittedly unapparent conclusion regarding the EU, which prior to the new millennium had only minimal competences in LGB issues with which to engage in socialization. The process of expansion, however, forced the EU to emerge as a pro-LGB actor in response to the homophobia of various CEECs; interactions between the EU’s various bodies, national state governments, NGOs, and various civic activists ultimately conspired to socialize the norm of LGB support across the EU. Most importantly, the increased involvement of the EU in LGB issues resulted in the Europeanization of the Foucauldian discourse on LGB in Europe, a transformation whose importance for establishing a new social ground for LGB rights, activism, and identity should not pass underestimated. Pursuant to the process of negotiating its eastward expansions, the EU succeeded in utilizing its unique institutional instruments to sanction support for the LGB community as a European value. The version of European identity produced, sanctioned, and disseminated by the EU is today an identity thoroughly inclusive and supportive of Europe’s numerous LGB. Although the process of socialization that spread this identity was neither rapid nor peaceful, its effects have come to visible fruition following the tumultuous period of expansion. The actions of various other actors, including the ECtHR and LGB activists, have of course also contributed to the creation and spread of this norm; however, only the EU was capable of Europeanizing the discourse of LGB, thereby transforming the very social ground upon which questions of LGB issues were (and still are) contested and decided.
Wait, Weren’t We Already on That Track?
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This conclusion that the EU has become the main actor for establishing this norm is admittedly quite striking. Prior to 2000, the EU as an institution typically avoided addressing issues related to the LGB community; instead, a variety of other agents historically were active participants in the process of addressing LGB issues in Europe. As such, multifarious efforts had long been underway to establish a continental norm in support of the LGB community, and indeed much progress for the LGB community had already occurred by the time the EU emerged as a factor. Nevertheless, for a number of reasons the discrete and disparate efforts of these non-EU actors failed to amount to the same import. Any attempt to appreciate the effects of the EU’s decision to address LGB issues, however, requires a thorough understanding of the foundational successes of other actors, as well as their particular shortcomings. Perhaps most visibly, the European Court of Human Rights issued a series of rulings that incrementally established precedent in favor of ever-increasing protection of LGB rights. It should not be understood, however, that the Court itself was necessarily moving proactively on these issues; rather, beginning with its Dudgeon v. United Kingdom ruling against the criminalization of consensual private sexual acts, the ECtHR has explicitly referenced its decisions as reflecting changes in a general “Euro-norm” towards greater understanding and acceptance of homosexuality.10 Following decriminalization, the Court moved against broader practices of discrimination regarding unequal age of consent laws, armed forces participation policies, and benefits for couples. With each successive ruling, the Court upended one of its previous decisions, and the “Euro-norm” consensus expanded to include a definitive supranational legal opinion in favor of broader LGB rights. As an international court, however, questions have always lingered regarding the extent to which the ECtHR acts as an agent in and of itself. Rather than uncover a trend-setting role for the Court, scholars have found that in regards to LGB issues the Court has instead served to influence nations to adopt progressive policies earlier than they otherwise might have, as its rulings set broad precedent for national courts, change the informational environment for domestic mobilization, and serve as standards for membership conditionality.11 Room for agency remains inasmuch as the Court’s rulings sanction a European consensus that might not necessarily involve unanimity on the part of Council of Europe member states; the Court’s rulings have also been used when establishing membership conditionality for the accession of new CoE members. In this regard, the progressive rulings of the Court are culturally powerful representations of one aspect of European identity; each ruling amounts to a statement in the Foucauldian discourse of European LGB, thereby having a direct, non-trivial impact upon lived experience for millions of Europeans. In a more material way, ECtHR decisions have legal influence over national courts, depending upon the national legal infrastructure. Also, while decisions are only binding upon parties in a particular case, ECtHR decisions send signals of acceptability to non-party states, and the establishment of pro-LGB precedents provides a legitimate informational resource for further LGB mobilization and legal activism. Despite the significant power with which it acts, the Court is not an unlimited actor; indeed, it was not until reforms were enacted in 1998 that compulsory jurisdiction and official applications against states by private individuals were incorporated into the newly permanent Court.12 In addition, compliance with the decisions of the ECtHR, as with international courts in general, is often a question rather than a fact. Ambiguity in ECtHR decisions, meanwhile, can preclude the potential mobilization effects of creating precedent and information; one may well consider the lack of clarity regarding the ramifications of the Court’s 2008 decision in favor of adoption by LGB couples.13 Thus, while in theory the ECtHR is a powerful pro-LGB actor, its ability to effect systemic change may be overestimated. The ECtHR can be seen as a top-down actor, sanctioning interpretations at the supranational legal level with ramifications for those at the national and local levels. Meanwhile, for -136-
decades LGB activists not only engaged the ECtHR but also mobilized from the local and national levels to socialize acceptance and progress for the LGB community. Active efforts were multifarious in nature, including such examples as the proliferation of LGB clubs, street theater, community networks, LGB magazines and news outlets, sporting events and teams, political marches, and ad campaigns. So-called queerzines, such as De un Plamazo , Gai Pied, Lesbia-Magazine, LGB News, or Diva, proved particularly capable of cultural mobilization.14 Likewise, Europride and Christopher Street Day festivals have annually attracted thousands to march for LGB rights. These organizations have functioned successfully by delineating lines of identity, naming and attacking homophobia, and establishing self-curated foundations for a norm of acceptance; in other words, these groups were agents of socialization by influence and sanctioning. Most importantly, such publicly visible efforts at creating a norm of acceptance have been shown to have a dramatic effect on the lived experience of LGB individuals, who are encouraged by such efforts to develop self-esteem and confidence in their own visibility.15 More passive efforts at socialization capitalized upon and further solidified this work. Most noticeably, in various states, the legal expansion of LGB rights was matched by an ever-increasing number of public figures who were out yet may not necessarily have been activists themselves. That LGB individuals may be either closeted or out may at first appear to be a relatively inconsequential inquiry; as with the ECtHR, there is a question of whether the importance of the matter is one of cultural representation, or one of material efficacy. Much may be made of the representative importance of LGB celebrities and public figures as a yardstick for measuring tolerance, such that Elton John’s performance at Princess Diana’s funeral was remarkable for its positive reception.16 Still, the unique psychological tensions inherent in such situations indeed cause this to be a matter of real material significance, as LGB public officials are responsible for a variety of legislative and executive functions with direct influence on the lived experience of individuals. The psychological pressures faced by closeted LGB government bureaucrats can lead to highly discriminatory practices in areas as varied as social services for homeless LGB youth, policies for addressing homophobia in schools, provision of services for LGB AIDS victims, and unwarranted government inspections of counselors.17 Of course, this effaces the distinction between materiality and representation; for example, the presence of one out individual may change an agency’s organizational culture and may encourage other professionals to be out, reinforcing a positive spiral. While the work of LGB activists has therefore been non-trivial, it was by and large limited in scope to national and sub-national activism, with the notable exception of approaches to utilize supranational legal options available through the ECtHR. Attempts at transnational LGB networking did not manifest in earnest until the early nineties as discussions over the Maastricht Treaty sparked a spirit of Europeanization; early transnational activist groups, however, were disparate and lacked effective central organization. The first European Lesbian Conference was held in 1991 in Barcelona, and the original Europride festival took place in London the following year. Such conferences as the former were generally ineffective and ephemeral. Europride, on the other hand, was neither, yet its initial years were marked by social mobilization without the overt political activism of later years. LGB activists at the time did not hesitate to criticize the political disappointments of these efforts, calling instead for a centralized European “Federation of Lesbian and LGB” organizations.18 The beginnings of such an entity arrived with the 1996 formation of ILGA-Europe, an umbrella network of European LGB activist organizations. ILGA-Europe, however, was largely ineffective for the first few years of its existence. It had neither paid staff members nor a physical headquarters, and its high-profile campaigns were by no means successful; for example, the 1999 “Sink Schwimmer Campaign” failed completely to prevent the election of a homophobic candidate for the Secretariat-General of the CoE. Even the most successful of the organization’s earliest efforts was -137-
of dubious effect: ILGA-Europe played a major role in the original drafting of the 1998 European Parliament resolution that added LGB rights protections to the Copenhagen criteria, but as this paper will demonstrate further on, conditionality was by no means the unmitigated success ILGAEurope hoped for. Additionally, LGB activists, both transnational and national, did not resemble a traditionally defined New Social Movement (NSM). Rather, the LGB community within each state historically constituted not one unitary public sphere but a collection of subaltern contestatory public spheres, similar to the model suggested by Nancy Fraser.19 In Britain, for example, schisms within the broader LGB community regarding questions of gender, assimilation, and fetish communities precluded the rise of unified national social movements, let alone transnational ones.20 These struggles also reflected LGB activists’ competing desires to delineate a LGB identity in an effort to combat invisibility and to deconstruct this identity in an effort to combat stereotypes and negative significations; the end result precluded a cohesive LGB NSM and diluted the collective agency of LGB activists.21 It is also clear that LGB communities within different states faced highly dissimilar sociopolitical environments. The nature of winner-take-all majoritarian politics in the United Kingdom dramatically raised the stakes for minority interests, such as the LGB community, whose lack of political prospects proved conducive to alternative options, hence the role of the UK as a hotbed of ECtHR litigation. In the Netherlands, meanwhile, the nature of consociational politics enabled the mainstreaming of the LGB community despite the long-term political domination of the Christian Democrats.22 LGB communities in these two exemplary states faced highly dissimilar political equations, further decreasing the possibilities for an LGB NSM. Finally, organized LGB activism proved deeply susceptible to internal political vagaries beyond the previously mentioned identity-based schisms. Many individual activist organizations tended not to last for any great length of time before succumbing to internecine squabbling, a pattern that began with the UK’s LGB Liberation Front and separate groups in Spain and France named the Homosexual Front for Revolutionary Action. In some cases, wedge issues were also inserted into the community, including the position of religiously devout LGB individuals in states with strong religious identities, such as France.23 Notably, during the eighties the spread of AIDS and sidentidad24 interfered with the grand discourses of LGB rights and LGB identities by presenting a solemn distraction from these discourses. While cultural representations kept AIDS strongly linked to the LGB community, activist organizations were forced to change their focus to deal with this new phenomenon, one which only reinforced the identity gap between LGB men and lesbians.25 Such matters only helped prevent the emergence of a powerful unified LGB NSM. In short, the EU did not initiate the norm of support for the LGB community as a European value. Rather, by the time the EU waded into the debate, other actors had long been at work constructing this norm. Nevertheless, to assume that progress for the LGB community would have continued along the same trajectory in a counterfactual world absent EU involvement is to ignore the inherent limitations of these other actors, as demonstrated by the previous discussion. No other European agent, whether at the local, national, or supranational level, had capabilities similar to the EU as an agent of systemic change, which likely explains ILGA-Europe’s vested interest in drafting the aforementioned 1998 EP resolution. The eventuality of LGB equality in a counterfactual reality is thus questionable, for few – if any – non-EU actors possessed the requisite strength.
The Storm on the Horizon: Eastern Europe
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So far, this discussion has mainly addressed certain limits to the actions of non-EU actors inherent in the constitution of these agents themselves. While these limits are useful for providing important reasons to doubt the inevitability of LGB equality and establishing the importance of the EU’s decision to wade into LGB issues, they do not clearly suggest the EU as the solution. To understand why the EU so ponderously entered the European discourse on the LGB community at the time that it did requires an appreciation of European cultural geography; that is to say, the EU’s decision to expand into Eastern Europe forced the institution into a new role in LGB politics. While expansions to the east were not official until 2004 and 2007, the accession process for these new members occupied the previous years, causing major changes across the EU and forcing an attempt to reconcile the post-materialist nature of LGB issues with the underdeveloped CEECs. Eastern Europe was also not a matter which other actors involved in the struggle for LGB progress were adequately situated to address. The CoE and especially the ECtHR may have appeared to be strong candidates for the incorporation of Eastern Europe with the mainstreaming of the LGB community; however, historically the ECtHR on its own failed to prove its utility in this regard. Of the twenty rulings coded by Helfer and Voeten as key judgments in their study of LGB legal issues, eighteen pertain to states in Western Europe, and only one of the other two occurred prior to the EU’s eastward expansion. Again, while these rulings set precedent, encourage domestic mobilization, and influence national policy, they are not binding on non-party states; ECtHR rulings increase the possible adoption of pro-LGB policies, but they do not invalidate any laws.26 With certain ECtHR rulings, Eastern European states with discriminatory laws on their books may face a higher cost - or at least the signal of a higher cost - to maintaining such laws, but change is by no means obligatory. Furthermore, membership conditionality for the CoE did not prove itself an effective tool, with mixed results at best. In the first place, the European Convention on Human Rights provides protections only for a limited number of rights that do not permit broader jurisdiction in areas such as employment discrimination. In addition, compliance with those rights that are protected is often difficult to achieve in a timely fashion. In the case of Romania, the clearest example, the CoE required Romanian compliance with the Dudgeon decriminalization decision within 6 months as a requirement for its inclusion in the 1993 cohort of new CoE members. Romania, however, neglected to act on decriminalization for three years, when a partial decriminalization measure allowed for same-sex acts so long as they did not become public knowledge; further proposals denied the LGB community freedoms of speech and association.27 Full decriminalization did not occur until the new millennium. Although other states were more compliant with the CoE’s demands, the efficacy of CoE membership conditionality as a mechanism for changing discriminatory national laws remains less than persuasive. LGB activists, too, proved unable to adequately address the question of Eastern Europe. As with the previously discussed cases in Western European states, LGB actors were unable to create unified social movements in Eastern Europe; in addition, many of the most visible instruments of LGB activists, such as street marches and widely disseminated publications, were repressed into nonexistence as the LGB community moved underground. Apart from these generalities, however, the cases of individual Eastern European states differed widely. In Romania, the native LGB community was aggressively repressed by both church and state to the point that its very existence as a community was negligible, and interventions by expatriates in Bucharest, such as the founding of the ACCEPT retreat group, managed to mobilize only a handful of participants. With such a deeply repressed LGB community, the Romanian discourse on homosexuality prior to EU accession barely existed beyond the exhortations of conservatives and religious figures. An oppositional case study, the Czech Republic, then as Czechoslovakia, had decriminalized homosexuality in 1961 and matured with a deeply held if stereotypical tradition of toleration. As -139-
such, LGB and lesbian organizations proliferated in the nation; however, most were social organizations that eschewed political agitation.28 Most CEEC EU candidates fell along a spectrum between Romania and the Czech Republic, with a small but identifiable LGB activist community at least in existence if not actively effecting policy change. To take one example, Hungary became the first Eastern European state to recognize a limited form of domestic same-sex partnership, when its Parliament enacted legislation in 1996 as required by a ruling from the Hungarian Supreme Court. This action, however, was the culmination of a series of unintended events; aside from the group that initiated the litigation, LGB activists, including both the small number of Hungarian activists and observers from Western Europe, had little to do with the ruling and were surprised when it was handed down.29 At the same time, Hungary maintained a variety of repressive policies, ranging from police raids of the capital’s few LGB bars to barring the legal use of the Hungarian equivalent of the word gay – melegek – in organizations’ official names. The few successes that occurred in most of these states were atypical phenomena attributable to the efforts of neither LGB activists nor the ECtHR. Repressive policies towards the LGB community remained the norm, and in many states the LGB community was forced underground. The radical break into post-totalitarianism, combined with a resurgence of nationalism and conservative religiosity, bore negative results for the LGB communities in many CEECs; this stark contrast with the engaged activism of Western Europe can be understood with the conventional notion of LGB issues as a post-materialist concern associated with the economic security of Western Europe.30 The major implication for Eastern Europe, meanwhile, was that its comparative lack of such security would preclude mature societal discourses on LGB issues until such time as sufficient development occurred. In sum, prior to the eastward expansion of the EU, prospects for the LGB community in Eastern Europe were exceedingly poor.
So Why the EU, and Why Now? Following the EU’s 1993 Copenhagen decision to begin the process of eastward expansion, invitations to negotiate were sent out to six frontrunners, with other states quickly following behind. The so-called Copenhagen criteria included major reforms for democratic solidification and economic liberalization; given the history of the EU as a largely economic project, it was the latter focus on economic reforms that many analysts tended to select as the most worrisome for Eastern European states.31 Initially underestimated amid concerns of labor and market shocks, however, was the great effect Eastern Europe’s accession would have upon the EU as a politicized identity project.32 Until the EU’s eastward expansion, examinations of European identity focused on supranational politics, institutional structures, and legal issues; afterwards new foci emerged, centered upon delineating European values, marking what one scholar described as the “search for Europe’s soul.”33 Individuals such as the Romanian MP who hoped to maintain the divide between political identity – “Europe” – and values-based social identity – “Sodom and Gomorrah” – failed to comprehend the assimilation of the two into a unitary identity project. Eastern and Western Europe did not engage in contestation of these values as equals, owing to the strength of Western Europe and its historical dominance of Europe’s international institutions. In particular, the bodies of the EU served an unwritten function as identity constructors; they created new symbolisms of European-ness, synthesized the multi-layered identities of elite European bureaucrats and politicians, and disseminated what one author termed fictions of European-ness, all of which created a transnational European identity associated with the EU.34 Of note, the original growth of the EU, as well as the CoE, within the confines of Western Europe resulted in an EU-based European identity that reflected Western European definitions of -140-
European-ness; by contrast, Eastern European regional institutions such as the Warsaw Pact and Comecon faced extinction at the end of the Cold War, leaving CEECs without a major say in identity-building international institutions. In the process of accession first to the CoE and then to the EU, Eastern European states consequently faced an insurmountable challenge in contesting definitions of European-ness with Western Europe’s ponderous international institutions; as a result, CEECs were socialized by these institutions into adapting their own versions of European identity to accommodate the Western European versions. The unwritten function of the EU as a constructor of European identity set the stage for its emergence as a powerful actor in LGB issues, and the identity contestation provoked by the accession of Eastern Europe provided the motivation to do so. Of course, any discussion of the EU’s expansions must first address the material benefits conferred upon by membership. EU membership confers enormous benefits on states; the question for candidate states is not if they should join, but rather how to negotiate the terms of accession. During the initial process of negotiation, evidence suggests that state behavior conforms to the expectations of rationalist theories; the external incentives model proposed by Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier accurately describes the compelling motivations – essentially a cost-benefit analysis – that cause candidates to undertake EU membership negotiation.35 Indeed, research in policy realms besides LGB issues reveals the efficacy of membership conditionality regarding EU rule transfer to candidate states, further suggesting the compelling nature of EU incentives. This is not to say that membership conditions were met with prompt and universal compliance; indeed, much of the literature on compliance with conditionality offers only ambiguous predictions as to its efficacy. Regarding the EU, a game theoretical analysis of compliance with membership conditionality requirements indicates that accession negotiations were similar to bargaining games; during negotiations, each EU candidate state’s strategic choices varied according to the terms presented by the EU, the credibility thereof, and the time horizon of accession.36 The particular costs of changing domestic policy also varied by issue area, and in controversial cases, such as human rights and citizenship policies, individual candidate states faced strong domestic pressure not to comply with EU conditions. Evidence suggests, however, that domestic opposition failed to decrease the efficacy of membership conditionality; as Judith Kelley posits, the payoff difference between changing domestic policy and gaining the benefits of EU membership was sufficient to encourage compliance with conditionality.37 Kelley’s evidence is mostly drawn from EU conditionality relating to ethnic and national minorities. When applied to LGB issues, however, the results are more ambiguous, largely due to the EU’s previous lack of competence with such issues.38 The 1993 Copenhagen Criteria for admission to the EU did not make mention of LGB rights, and it was not until September of 1998 that the European Parliament resolved to consider LGB rights as a criterion and singled out particular candidate states for their poor records.39 The debate then moved towards defining LGB rights; over the previous decade, the EU’s few forays into LGB issues had resulted in disparate and somewhat contradictory stances. Most notably, the European Parliament, following the 1993 Roth Report, passed a broad anti-discrimination resolution 1994 and during the next few years continued with reiterations and expansions of the same message. The ECJ, meanwhile, posited an entirely different message with its ruling in Grant v. South-West Trains that the Equal Treatment Directive (1976) did not apply to discrimination against same-sex couples. Eventually recourse was made to ECtHR case law to provide standards for LGB rights, and further delineations of expected protections for the LGB community arrived with the Amsterdam Treaty’s listing of sexual orientation discrimination as a jurisdictional competence of the European Council, whose response was the 2000 Equality Directive.40 -141-
As the first cohort of candidate states moved forward with negotiations, however, the lack of prior EU competence in the arena of LGB rights belied the EU’s ability to effect change in Eastern Europe’s stance toward the LGB community.41 Although there were certain mitigated successes – the Roth report, for example, may have influenced action in the Hungarian Parliament to recognize a restricted form of same-sex partnerships42 - it is difficult to conclusively determine causation, given the multiplicity of alternative conditioning factors. For example, 1993 was not only the year in which the EU decided to undertake its eastward expansion; it was also the year of accession to the CoE for numerous CEECs. Decriminalization of private, consensual same-sex behavior was delineated as an expected commitment among new CoE members, and all in the 1993 cohort complied, save Romania. Its decision to take the first steps towards decriminalization three years later occurred in the face of a new cost-benefit equation: in 1995, Romania submitted its official application to join the EU, and decriminalization passed despite entrenched opposition from the Romanian Orthodox Church and two major political parties.43 Even without considering yet further alternatives, determining causal relationships in such cases is unlikely to prove simple. Conversely, it is clear that there were deleterious effects to the EU’s ostensible endeavor to include LGB rights in the Copenhagen criteria, largely stemming from the lack of EU competence in LGB issues and leading to a euroskeptical turn in scholarship of the European LGB community.44 As negotiations gradually moved forward following the Copenhagen decision to greenlight expansion, previous member states were themselves undergoing the process of expanding progess for the LGB community. Major legal successes for the LGB community during the negotiation period included ECtHR rulings against discrimination in cases of age of consent laws, open military service, and benefits for unmarried couples, and the spread of these precedents throughout the EU was neither rapid nor simple. Indeed, the EP was forced to condemn discriminatory age of consent laws in member state Austria in the very same 1998 resolution in which it explicitly tied LGB rights into the membership criteria.45 Meanwhile, certain discriminatory policies, including rights to adopt and marry, remained and still remain denied to the LGB community across large swaths of Western Europe. In short, the addition of LGB rights to the Copenhagen criteria was betrayed by the poor record of the EU and its member states on LGB rights. Returning to the analysis of membership negotiation as a bargaining game, the illegitimacy of the EU’s position on LGB rights greatly decreased the credibility of the EU’s implicit threat that failure to comply with membership conditions would result in halted negotiations. Facing a decreased cost of defection relative to the cost of domestic mobilization against LGB rights legislation and even against the broader prospects of Europeanization, CEECs paid lip service to conditionality, but many reforms enacted remained superficial in scope.46 Romania’s 1996 decriminalization attempt, for example, maintained the criminalization of homosexual conduct that was not made known to more than two people, and the anti-discrimination allowances of the 2000 rectification went largely unenforced; the National Council for Fighting Discrimination, the government agency Romania eventually established to enforce anti-discrimination law, was viewed by many – the LGB community in particular – as a farcical front beneficial to Romania’s efforts to join the EU but not to the LGB community.47 The adoption of ostensible anti-discrimination laws, agencies, and rhetoric by CEEC governments dissembled the lack of internalized support for the LGB community, and other CEECs were similarly lukewarm in their reception of the EU’s LGB rights requirement, with the possible exception of the Czech Republic.48 On its own, then, conditionality was by no means an effective tool for coercing support for the LGB community in acceding EU states, contrary to Kelley’s findings in regards to ethnic minorities. In her framework, however, Kelley is at pains to distinguish the mechanism of conditionality from that of socialization; nevertheless, even she concedes that the two often act in -142-
mutual operation.49 Unlike the rationalist approach, the constructivist framework for socialization allows for the mutual constitution of international organizations and their member states; international institutions are seen to influence state preferences and norms by means of persuasion and social influence. If socialization theory is indeed explanatory of state behavior, then interaction in international institutions as sites of social contact should be expected to change attitudes towards compliance and participation, and state behavior should change in ways that reflect this change in preferences.50 Indeed, this appears to hold explanatory power in regards to candidate states’ compliance with EU membership conditionality. In this case, the difficulty is one of measurement; norms are not instantaneously fully socialized, and the process of internalization can be obscured by rationalist arguments of norms as non-internalized constraints or focal points.51 Studies by Jeffrey Checkel suggest that CEECs’ compliance with membership conditions in European institutions strongly reflects social learning and persuasion, but not social sanctioning (opprobrium).52 This latter finding is consistent with the historical weakness of activist groups, a key actor for social sanctioning, in CEECs. In regards to LGB rights, it is also consistent with the EU’s previous lack of competence in LGB rights, since social sanctioning mechanisms were rendered illegitimate by the susceptibility of the EU itself to criticisms of its record on LGB issues. Socialization theory adds nuance to the discussion of the EU and LGB rights. Given the longer time horizon of norm internalization, it is not unexpected that CEECs’ ostensible compliance was initially superficial and masked the initial failure to effect deeper changes in attitudes towards the LGB community. After all, the EU could not directly condition a particular version of European identity; its conditions were largely limited to legislative, market, and policy reforms. Nevertheless, the enumeration of support for LGB rights as a membership condition established a normative precedent, which Checkel refers to as a cognitive prior, the effect of which is to establish the beginnings of psycho-social norm internalization.53 Checkel’s emphasis on mutual constitution, meanwhile, suggests that CEECs effected change in the EU as well; at a basic level, this is evident from the transformation of the EU into a more self-conscious identity project that grappled with conflicting values in the old and new member states.54 Considering Habermasian theories of communicative action, the spread of information and arguments can be seen to have engendered the solidification of the EU in support of the LGB community; the widening and deepening of the discourse on European identity revealed state preferences regarding LGB issues. Furthermore, as the EU itself fomented its support of the LGB community, it gained a stronger capability to influence similar developments in CEECs. On both sides of the equation, then, in due time EU and state behavior should have evinced internalization of the norm of support for the LGB community. Indeed, evidence suggests that during negotiations and in the years following expansion support for the LGB community increasingly became an institutionalized norm in the old EU member states and a newly internalized norm in CEECs. To start with the EU, support for LGB rights evolved from a non-concern to a major area of interest. Legally, the pattern of ever-expanding successes for LGB rights in the ECtHR has culminated in the Lisbon Treaty’s efforts for the EU to accede to the European Convention on Human Rights, a development that will mark the integration of the ECtHR’s extensive LGB rights case-law with the EU and the ECJ in particular.55 Following the Amsterdam Treaty’s enunciation of combating sexual orientation discrimination as a European Council competence, the Council emerged with a strong voice with Council Directive 2000/78/EC, the Framework Employment Directive that listed sexual orientation as specifically protected from employment discrimination, in an oppositional response to the Grant ruling.56 That same year, the Council established the first Community action program (2001-2006) to fight discrimination against sexual minorities. Meanwhile, the European Commission began majority-funding ILGA-Europe in 2000, immediately allowing for this NGO to hire its own full-143-
time staff, rent headquarters in Brussels, and establish a visible presence working with various EU bodies as well as the CoE and OSCE. In time, ILGA-Europe continued to expand, becoming an effective LGB rights advocate with responsibilities ranging from monitoring and lobbying the EU institutions to undertaking consultative fact-finding missions to candidate states and running normbuilding conferences in CEECs. The current efficacy of ILGA-Europe evinces the group as a hardening of the socialization at work into an effective organization of core elites working along the lines predicted by resource mobilization theory. As this theory suggests, the group is far from inconsequential: its conferences and workshops have an immediate impact in the lived experience of attendees and provide accurate information and some funding for domestic mobilization, while its lobbying efforts in Brussels include such victories as the EP’s rejection of Rocco Buttiglione as Justice Commissioner as well as the current push for an EU Directive for equal treatment.57 The EP, for its own part, overhauled and re-launched the once-ineffective Intergroup on LGBT Rights in 2002; the Intergroup now includes over one hundred MEPs whose successes include a recent effort to expand asylum protections for the LGB community. The ECJ, meanwhile, progressed from permitting discrimination against same-sex partners in its 1998 Grant decision to incorporating the Framework Employment Directive’s condemnation of such discrimination in its 2011 decision, Römer v. Hamburg. Finally, the 2007 reform of the European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia into the EU Agency for Fundamental Rights marked the creation of an EU agency tasked with research and dissemination of information regarding the status of European minorities, sexual minorities included; the FRA’s networking efforts with EU bodies, the CoE, and NGOs present this particular EU body as an agent of persuasion within the socialization framework. With the norm of support for the LGB community thus becoming ever more entrenched in the EU’s institutions, behavior of CEECs in the EU cohorts of 2004 and 2007 changed in ways consistent with the socialization model. Several years after accession to the EU, Romania’s previously mentioned National Council for Fighting Discrimination began actually hearing discrimination cases relating to sexual orientation and notably issued a requirement in 2007 that the Department of Health repeal its discriminatory ban on blood donation by men who have sex with men. Furthermore, major international conferences of LGB activists, including the annual meetings of the EU-funded pan-network ILGA-Europe, were permitted to take place in Sofia, Bucharest, Budapest, and Vilnius. More recently, openly LGB candidates have begun to be elected to public office even in conservative Catholic Poland, whose first out official was elected to the Warsaw City Council in 2010. Perhaps most revealing is an analysis of the progression of LGB pride parades in CEECs. During the 1990s, pride parades were non-existent in most CEECs; the inception of LGB pride parades in various CEECs arrived with the new millennium as LGB activists made clear recourse to the EU negotiations.58 Notoriously, these first parades were not welcomed by all parties, although the manifestation of CEEC backlash against Europeanization through homophobia is itself an indicator of the conflation of LGB support with European identity. Though less riotous than similar events in non-EU candidate Serbia, the first pride parades in Poland, Latvia, the Czech Republic, Romania, Lithuania, and Bulgaria were variously banned and/or greeted with violent counterprotests. Yet as the socialization of CEECs in the EU annually progressed, further iterations of pride parades were marked by a relative lack of such public struggles; most saliently, Europride, the annual celebration of the European LGB community, selected Warsaw as its 2010 location and executed an unremarkably successful event. Although same may argue this was exclusively due to the 2007 ECtHR ruling in Baczkowski v. Poland, the internalization process was already well on its way; over the years, the discourses enabled by EU accession had led to rethinking of societal conceptions of normalcy to accommodate the LGB community.59 -144-
Meanwhile, the fomentation of support for the LGB community within the EU institutions altered the cost-benefit equation for candidate states. The incorporation of strong institutional support for the LGB community into the EU’s various bodies was an inchoate project during negotiations for the 2004 and 2007 cohorts, and the credibility of the EU’s inclusion of support for LGB rights in its admissions criteria had consequently been weakened. For current candidates, however, the changed normative environment in the EU has made this credibility much higher, and compliance is correspondingly more prompt and meaningful. To take one anecdote, on March 9, the EP passed a resolution on Montenegro’s integration prospects and noted a need for stronger action against discrimination.60 One month later, the Montenegrin Prime Minister announced his support for a pride parade. Most revealingly, his stated reason was that Montenegro “needs to cross the line” and demonstrate itself to be a society willing to accept differences regardless of “personal thought”; such rhetoric, of course, suggests the government’s awareness of the EU as its audience as well as an awareness of trends in EU-member CEECs.61 Among previous member states, meanwhile, a longer history of LGB recognition and phenomena such as pride parades resulted in dissimilar markers of LGB progress. In western EU member states, the socialization of LGB inclusion was perhaps most evident in the spate of states approving same-sex marriages and civil unions that occurred in the new millennium. Full same-sex marriages have been approved in 5 EU member states, beginning with the Netherlands in 2001; discounting outlier Denmark’s early adoption of same-sex civil unions, the new millennium also brought civil unions embodying various enumerated rights to an additional ten member states, including three CEECs. Results from the 1999 and 2008 European Values Study surveys corroborate the spreading internalization of the LGB norm among Western European states; the only EU member state from Western Europe to witness a drop in public opinion of homosexuality was the Netherlands, which nevertheless still polled the EU’s second-highest approval of the LGB community.62 Again, these findings are not conclusive of causality; however, they do provide a plausible account of the socialization effects pursuant to the EU’s eastward expansion. To ascribe complete causality to EU socialization would be fallacious, given the historical lack of EU competence in LGB issues. However, the pro-LGB self-affirmation of the EU did clearly alter the equation for all parties involved. Even the most euroskeptical of critics would admit the empowerment of LGB activists by the EU’s newly affirmed support for the LGB community; as one Polish academic noted, “activists feel more secure… They know the EU is watching.”63 Such sentiments were not a tentative reference to conditionality, but instead constituted an admission of the new institutional environment engendered by the EU’s expansion process.
A Discursive Transformation: Europeanization The intervention of the EU, moreover, provided for an even more systemic shift in the discourse upon which questions stemming from the organization’s eastward expansion were foregrounded and contested; that is to say, the EU enabled a discourse of Europeanization. The EU was not merely an identity builder; it was a transnational identity builder. This discussion of socialization has so far made recourse largely to national phenomena, such as the compliance decisions of particular CEECs. The transition to Europeanization, however, involved a systemic shift of LGB politics away from national and local levels and closer towards the supranational level; this process of Europeanization fomented solidarity and LGB identities across member states, furthering the socialization of LGB progress. -145-
It is true that the process of transnationalization of LGB identities and issues predated the EU’s eastward expansion, arising during the 1990s in the context of the Maastricht Treaty and its spirit of Europeanization. Again, however, early transnational activism was comparatively ineffective, disparate, and disorganized; even the centralized network ILGA-Europe operated without paid staff or headquarters for the first years of its existence. As was previously mentioned, it was not until the EU underwent its own reformation and institutional internalization of support for the LGB community that ILGA-Europe received core funding directly from the EU and was able to rent headquarters in Brussels and hire its first paid staff members. With these two changes – direct financial support from the EU and the advantage of a spreading norm of support for European LGB – ILGA-Europe has since grown into a large and effective activist organization that executes a wide variety of lobbying, monitoring, informational, funding, and norm-spreading activities across Europe. As predicted by resource mobilization theory, ILGA-Europe has become a major transnational player in Europe’s LGB movements, as it gathers funding, media attention, political support, information, and a large base of networked supporters to bear on LGB issues. ILGAEurope’s decisions to lobby for legal and legislation action, to carry out high-profile fact-finding missions to candidate states, to select cities in CEECs as sites for its large annual conference, and to engage in naming-and-shaming of discriminatory practices demonstrate the organization’s efficacy as an agent of both social sanctioning and positive social influence. Through the core funding of this organization, the EU enables non-institutional actors to continue the Europeanization of LGB politics, a commitment reflected most succinctly by the ILGA-Europe slogan, “different voices, one European movement.”64 Just as ILGA-Europe selected various CEEC cities to host its annual gathering, other transnational LGB activist actors that had previously limited their activity to Western Europe expanded their presence in the east during the new millennium in efforts that were enabled by ongoing socialization. Activists, however, did not merely capitalize upon the work of the EU; they also became ancillary agents of change in their own right, augmenting the socialization of progress for the LGB community through persuasion and social influence. An exemplary case would be the pride parade, a phenomena that was previously limited to Western Europe. The changing legal and political climate in CEECs resulting from the EU’s expansion validated western LGB activists in their efforts to transplant pride parades into CEECs, as in Latvia, whose first pride parades featured only a few hundred participants, many of whom were activists from Scandinavia, the UK, the Netherlands, and the EP. By comparison with these early efforts, the transnational event Europride was slower in transitioning from Western Europe; the event did not come to a CEEC until its 2010 incarnation in Warsaw, where not hundreds but thousands gathered to demonstrate. Native activists in CEECs, meanwhile, did not hesitate to reference the transnational LGB movement in their efforts for progress. In Romania, the Bucharest Acceptance Group, a formerly underground LGBT organization, reformed itself as Accept Romania and called upon ILGAEurope to host the transnational network’s annual conference in a bid for legitimacy.65 In Hungary, a native LGBT athletic group will be handling the organization of the 2012 EuroGames, in contrast to the salient involvement of Western European activists in the spread of pride parades to CEECs; this will be the first time the EuroGames, an annual sports competition of a few thousand LGBT Europeans, are hosted by a CEEC. Eastern European activists have also directly made recourse to EU bodies, fomenting the Europeanization of LGB efforts. To cite one example, Poland’s LGBT organization Campaign Against Homophobia requested the national Human Rights Defender to seek EP condemnation of homophobic remarks by the Polish Sejm Deputy; the EP’s letter is a clear example of socialization through persuasion and social influence.66 -146-
Finally, popular cultural indicators also suggest the internalization of a Europeanized LGB norm. With a reported cumulative viewership of over one hundred million in each of its last four years, the annual European song contest Eurovision is one major site of representational contestation over definitions of European identity. Although the association of Eurovision with the LGB community is not a new one, in the more recent context of re-defining Europe and European citizenship, Eurovision has become a major public arena in which the LGB community stakes its claim to European citizenship and identity through highly visible performances.67 Furthermore, as a culturally significant site of representation where depictions of European-ness are not only displayed but are also voted upon by the general European public, Eurovision is a bellwether of public opinion. Thus, the increasing success of LGB performers in the event is not merely important in terms of LGB visibility. It also manifests an increasing validation of the transnational LGB community’s claim to European identity by the general European public, and as such, Eurovision is itself an agent of socialization working by means of social influence. By its very nature as an international institution, the EU shifted the discourse of European identity from local and national levels to the transnational level. The importance of Europeanization as a discursive transformation of the European LGB community should not be underestimated. In Western Europe, the prior political discourse described the LGB community in terms of individual states; as was discussed earlier in this paper, this resulted in tumult, incoherence, and instability among various national LGB movements. In Eastern Europe, by contrast, pre-existing discourses did not generally include the LGB community at the national level; following accession to the EU, it was the process of Europeanization as a discursive move to transnationalization that provided the LGB community in CEECs an opportunity for social legitimacy. Even national LGB organizations such as Latvia’s Mozaika that emerged in the new climate of Europeanization can ascribe their existence and legitimacy as societal actors to this transnational discursive change.68 Although it would be premature to describe European transnational LGB activism as a New Social Movement, transnational activism has proven remarkably effective in post-expansion Europe. Even more importantly, Europeanization changed the very social fabric against which contestation over the LGB community occurred.
Conclusion Four years ago, a euroskeptic scholar declared the prospects for the LGB community in the EU to be “rather grim.”69 In the wake of homophobic backlashes across new CEEC member states and the apparent inefficacy of EU conditionality of LGB rights, his sentiments captured a not unreasonable pessimism. The initial social tumult of the EU’s 2004 and 2007 expansions, however, dissembled the slower action of socialization at work. The supranational identity crisis spurred by its expansion forced the EU to develop competence in LGB issues in response to homophobia among CEECs; this in turn transposed the sociopolitical discourse of LGB onto the fertile ground of Europeanization. Socialization occurred through multifarious channels, from the precedent set by cognitive priors delineated with membership conditionality requirements to the persuasion and social influence effects of EP resolutions. Throughout this period, LGB activists capitalized upon the new sociopolitical environment created by the EU, further solidifying LGB support as a European value and building strong, effective transnational networks. The actions of LGB activists have proven publicly visible and effective; however, it is worth restating that the recent success of LGB organizations was only made possible due to the newly Europeanized sociopolitical environment engendered by the EU. Prior to the EU’s expansion, LGB activist groups were comparably unstable, marginal, disparate, and certainly less effective than the -147-
transnational, politically integrated, and highly visible LGB activists that emerged post-expansion. Without the systemic changes wrought by the EU in its eastward expansion, it is doubtful that the progress that has occurred for LGB would have been brought about so rapidly. Socialization theory bears much explanatory power with regards to the EU and LGB issues; a review of the evidence, however, also reveals unstudied theoretical points that would provide fruitful routes for future research. At present, socialization accounts of governments and NGOs as agents of persuasion, social influence, and social sanctioning are more fully realized than accounts of unconventional phenomena such as pride parades and cultural signifiers like Eurovision, which play an undeniable social role yet remain under-theorized. Meanwhile, the theorization of NGOs and governments as conscious actors of socialization obscures the possibilities that socialization may involve less deliberate processes inherent within social interaction; the potential for micropsychological mechanisms of identity dissemination in the EU would be a worthwhile research topic. Additionally, the subject of LGB in the EU is well-suited for future interdisciplinary approaches that could integrate constructivist theory from political science with critical theory on discourse and society from cultural studies mainstays such as Michel Foucault. Ultimately, excavating the EU and the Europeanization of LGB progress presents a counterpoint to the euroskeptical position, one that once emphasized LGB activists and derided the EU’s capacity to act for LGB progress. Policymakers should avoid this extreme skepticism and instead should consider the EU’s various bodies as relevant and powerful agents regarding LGB issues; even as recently as May 10, 2011, the ECJ reversed its previous position on spousal benefits in the anti-discrimination decision of Römer v. Hamburg. The progressive pattern of socialization lends itself to optimism for expanded LGB rights, a sentiment tempered by the prospect of political battles for full same-sex marriage and adoption rights. With the novel Europeanized sociopolitical environment that resulted from the EU’s eastward expansion, the outlook for LGB progress has markedly improved. 1
In this paper, for pragmatic purposes LGB will stand in for the conventional formulation(s) of LGBT(Q), and is used variously throughout as both a noun and an adjective. While transgender issues have followed a similar trajectory in the EU, it is nevertheless an idiosyncratic path; the T has thus been left out in an attempt to maintain the scope of this paper. Instances in which the full LGBT acronym appears refer to specific organizations or topics that expressly identify as LGBT rather than LGB. 2 Dimitry Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights – Not for Gay People: EU Eastern Enlargement and Its Impact on the Protection of the Rights of Sexual Minorities,” Texas Wesleyan Law Review 13 (2007): 459. 3 To account for this, the term European integration will be used in this paper when referring to a broader set of social, political, and economic efforts to construct a unified Europe and European identity. To avoid confusion, the accession of Eastern European states to the EU will be referred to as EU expansion, rather than European integration. 4 Joyce Mushaben, “Belonging in 3D: Configuring Citizenship and Identity at the EU, National, and Local Levels” (lecture, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, May 15, 2011). 5 Brigid Laffan, “The European Union and Its Institutions as ‘Identity Builders,’” in Transnational Identities: Becoming European in the EU, Ed. Richard Herrmann, Thomas Risse, and Marilyn Brewer, (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefirled, 2004): 94. 6 Mushaben, “Belonging in 3D,” lecture. 7 Neil Winn, “In Search of Europe’s Internal and External Borders: Politics, Security, Identity, and the European Union,” in Perspectives on the Enlargement of the European Union, ed. Cameron Ross (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2002), 28. 8 The term LGB progress as opposed to more conventional phrasings, such as LGB rights, is used to indicate an expanded breadth of examination beyond legal protections. -148-
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Alastair Johnston, “Treating International Institutions as Social Environments,” International Studies Quarterly 45 (2001), 509. 10 Michael Goldhaber, A People’s History of the European Court of Human Rights (Piscataway, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 2007), 38. 11 Laurence Helfer and Erik Voeten, “Do European Court of Human Rights Judgments Promote Legal and Policy Change?” (unpublished manuscript), Microsoft Word file. 12 Lucius Caflisch, “The Reform of the European Court of Human Rights: Protocol No. 14 and Beyond,” Human Rights Law Review 6 (2006), 404. 13 Kathleen Doty, “From Frette to E.B.: the European Court of Human Rights on Gay and Lesbian Adoption,” Law and Sexuality: a Review of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Legal Issues 18 (2009), 121. 14 Ken Plummer, “The Lesbian and Gay Movement in Britain: Schisms, Solidarities, and Social Worlds,” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, ed. Barry Adam, Jan Duyvendak, and Andre Krouwel, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), 141. 15 Deborah Frable, Jill Joseph, and Camilla Wortman, “Predicting Self-Esteem, Well-Being, and Distress in a Cohort of Gay Men: The Importance of Cultural Stigma, Personal Visibility, Community Networks, and Positive Identity,” Journal of Personality 65 (1997), 613-615. 16 Plummer, “Gay Movement in Britain,” 134. 17 Teresa DeCrescenzo, Gay and Lesbian Professionals in the Closet: Who’s In, Who’s Out, and Why (Binghamton, New York: Haworth Press, 1997), 86. 18 Gill Valentine, “An Equal Place to Work? Anti-Lesbian Discrimination and Sexual Citizenship in the European Union,” in Women of the European Union: the Politics of Work and Daily Life, ed. Maria Dolors Garcia-Ramon and Janice Monk (New York: Routledge, 1996), 111. 19 Nancy Fraser, “Rethinking the Public Sphere,” in The Cultural Studies Reader, ed. Simon During (New York: Routledge, 1993), 530. 20 Plummer, “Gay Movement in Britain,” 141. 21 Nico Beger, Tensions in the Struggle for Sexual Minority Rights in Europe: Que[e]rying Political Practices (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004), 221-222. 22 Andre Krouwel and Judith Schuyf, “The Dutch Lesbian and Gay Movement: the Politics of Accomodation,” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, ed. Barry Adam, Jan Duyvendak, and Andre Krouwel, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), 159. 23 Jan Duyvendak and Olivier Fillieule, “Gay and Lesbian Activism in France: Between Integration and Community-Oriented Movements,” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, ed. Barry Adam, Jan Duyvendak, and Andre Krouwel, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), 186-187. 24 Sidentidad refers to an AIDS-based identity, from the Spanish words SIDA (AIDS) and identidad (identity). The term is typically rendered in its original Spanish incarnation. 25 Ricardo Llamas and Fefa Vila, “Passion for Life: a History of the Lesbian and Gay Movement in Spain,” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, ed. Barry Adam, Jan Duyvendak, and Andre Krouwel, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), 231. 26 Helfer and Voeten, “Court of Human Rights,” unpublished. 27 Scott Long, “Gay and Lesbian Movements in Eastern Europe,” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, ed. Barry Adam, Jan Duyvendak, and Andre Krouwel, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), 244. 28 Ibid. 250. 29 Ibid. 253. 30 Ronald Inglehart, “Changing Values Among Western Publics from 1970 to 2006,” West European Politics 31 (2008), 140. -149-
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William Wallace, “Enlarging the European Union: an Overview,” in Perspectives on the Enlargement of the European Union, ed. Cameron Ross (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2002), 9. 32 Holly Case, “Being European: East and West,” in European Identity, ed. Jeffrey Checkel and Peter Katzenstein (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 116. 33 Mushaben “Belonging in 3D,” lecture. 34 Laffan, “Identity Builders,” 94, and Laura Cram, “Inventing the People: Civil Society Participation and the Enhabitation of the EU,” in Civil Society and Legitimate European Governance. Ed. Stijn Smismans. (Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2006), 253. 35 Frank Schimmelfennig and Ulrich Sedelmeier, “Governance by Conditionality: EU Rule Transfer to the Candidate Countries of Central and Eastern Europe,” Journal of European Public Policy 11 (2004), 670. 36 Antoaneta Dimitrova and Bernard Steunenberg, “Compliance in the EU Enlargement Process: the Limits of Conditionality,” European Integration Online Papers 11 (2007), <http://eiop.or.at/eiop/index.php/eiop/article/viewFile/2007_005a/53>. 37 Judith Kelley, “International Actors on the Domestic Scene: Membership Conditionality and Socialization by International Institutions,” International Organization 58 (2004). 38 Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights,” 473. 39 Resolution on Equal Rights for Gays and Lesbians in the EC, B4-0824 and 0852/98, European Parliament (1998). 40 Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights,” 478. 41 Ibid. 480-486. 42 Long, “Eastern Europe,” 252. 43 Steven Roper, Romania: the Unfinished Revolution (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 2000), 116. 44 Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights,” 494. 45 Resolution on Equal Rights for Homosexuals and Lesbians in the EC, A3-0028/94, European Parliament (1994). 46 Conor O’Dwyer, “From Conditionality to Persuasion? Europeanization and the Rights of Sexual Minorities in Postaccession Poland,” Journal of European Integration 32 (2010), 230. 47 Lavinia Stan and Lucian Turcescu, Religion and Politics in Post-Communist Romania (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 175. 48 Long, “Eastern Europe,” 247. 49 Kelley, “Membership Conditionality,” 428. 50 Alastair Johnston, “Social Environments,” 509. 51 Jeffrey Checkel, “Why Comply? Social Learning and European Identity Change,” International Organization 55 (2001), 558. 52 Ibid. 559 53 Ibid. 556-559. 54 Mushaben, “Belonging in 3D,” lecture. 55 Reding, Viviane, Vice President of the European Commission Responsible for Justice, Fundamental Rights, and Citizenship, “The EU’s Accession to the European Convention on Human Rights,” Hearing of the European Parliament’s Constitutional Affairs Committee, March 18, 2010. 56 Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights,” 487. 57 William Leap and Ellen Lewin, Out in Public: Reinventing Lesbian/Gay Anthropology in a Globalizing World (Hoboken, New Jersey: John Wiley and Sons, 2009), 306. 58 Alan Brady Conrath, “A Tale of Two Eastern European Cities,” Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide 10 (2003), 40. 59 Keinz, Anika, “European Desires and National Bedrooms? Negotiating Normalcy in Postsocialist Poland,” Central European History 44 (2011), 95-99. -150-
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Resolution on the European Integration Process of Montenegro, B7-0157/2011, European Parliament, March 9, 2011. 61 “Montenegrin PM Support Gay Parade,” News Release, ILGA-Europe, November 4, 2010, < http://ilgaeurope.org/home/guide/country_by_country/montenegro/montenegrin_pm_supports_gay_parade>. 62 Variable v240 of the EVS, justification of homosexuality, is asked under question 68: “Please tell me for each of the following whether you think it can always be justified, never be justified, or something in between,” on a scale of 1 (never) to 10 (always). Homosexuality appears as sub-question 68.H. 63 Conor O’Dywer and Kristina Schwartz, “Minority Rights After EU Enlargement: a Comparison of AntiGay Politics in Poland and Latvia,” Comparative European Politics 8 (2010), 221. 64 “Different Voices, One European Movement: 15 Minutes [sic] Video about ILGA Europe,” ILGA-Europe video, 15:24, from the 13th Annual Conference of ILGA-Europe (2009), < http://www.ilgaeurope.org/home/about_us/video_about_ilga_europe>. 65 Voichita Nachescu, “Hierarchies of Difference: National Identity, Gay and Lesbian Rights, and the Church in Postcommunist Romania,” in Sexuality and Gender in Postcommunist Eastern Europe and Russia, ed. Theo Sandfort and Aleksandar Stulhofer (Binghamton, New York: Haworth Press, 2005), 64-68. 66 Janusz Kochanowski, Personal Correspondence with Michael Cashman MEP, Co-President of the European Parliament’s Intergroup on LGBT Rights, March 31, 2010, < http://www.lgbt-ep.eu/wpcontent/uploads/2010/04/LT-20100331-Polish-HR-Ombudsman-to-Pieta-EN.pdf>. 67 Robert Tobin, “Eurovision at 50: Post-Wall and Post-Stonewall,” in A Song for Europe: Popular Music and Politics in the Eurovision Song Contest, ed. Ivan Raykoff and Robert Tobin (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate, 2007). 68 Christine Decker, “’National Identity’ Versus ‘Identity Movement’ – the LGBT Movement in Latvia,” Gender Studies and Research 5 (2008), 160-167. 69 Kochenov, “Democracy and Human Rights,” 494.
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Courts, Saints, and Clans: The Role of Grassroots, Indigenous Religious Institutions in Facilitating Order in Failed States Mark Hay, Columbia University Introduction This paper shall examine the role of grassroots, indigenous religious institutions1 in the creation of communal and inter-communal social order in the absence of a functional state. A body of scholarship already exists upon the creation of order in statelessness through varied cooperative arrangements (with varied sustainability and rates of success),2 but religious institutions deserve explicit examination for their conspicuous role in multiple cases of contemporary and historical state failure. Islamic institutions, both grassroots and indigenous and global and foreign, define the experience of Afghanistan and Somaliaâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the two clearest and longest lasting examples of state failure3 in recent history. And in the cases of historical state failure and/or statelessness often noted in scholarly literature,4 Catholic institutions play a similar defining role.5 Yet even in these cases religious institutions have not created religious order evenly from nation to nation, over time, or even from region to region within the nations. Such a combination of ubiquity and unevenness necessitates an examination of how and why communities can and choose to mobilize religious institutions; this involves examining both what enables their rise and what forces their collapse. Rather than provide a cursory examination of religious institutionsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; roles in a host of cases of state failure, this paper shall limit itself to a thorough analysis of Islamic institutions in the failed state history of Somalia. This limitation both serves utilitarian purposes for this paper and provides possible strategic/policy gains without sacrificing its contribution to theories on state failure or its applicability to religious institutions in statelessness in general. Exploring the varied regional success of Islamic institutions (both in rising and sustaining themselves as order-providing mechanisms) in Somalia will create a generalized narrative, which the author shall then briefly apply to the case of Afghanistan. If the narrative generated here to explain the success and failure of Somaliaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s religious institutions in order-provision also explains, to some extent, the experience of Afghanistan, then this will provide a rudimentary model with possible strategic/policy implications for the prediction and analysis of important religio-political trends in failed and/or failing states generally. Any success of this narrative-model in this paper cannot constitute definitive proof of its validity, but will merit further study. The narrative drawn herein of the rise and success of order-provision by religious institutions in Somalia (such systems existed in some form in all of Somalia, but only developed into standing, long-term institutions in south Somalia) breaks into three major sections. After providing brief background on the scholarship about religious institutions, order-provision and their role in -152-
Somalia, this paper shall attempt to demonstrate that the social organizational structures of Somalia and the history of Islam’s integration into these structures primed Somalia to utilize Islamic institutions to provide order. Thereafter, this paper shall demonstrate, demographic, geographic, and economic disparities served as triggers for the mobilization of Islamic institutions to provide order. Meanwhile a second layer of political priming determined the selective failure of these institutions to endure. After demonstrating this narrative of priming for use, triggering implementation, and priming for failure in Somalia, it shall briefly be applied to Afghanistan to test its validity and from there conclusions on the use of the narrative-model shall be drawn.
Related/Pre-existing Literature As one might glean from the previous section of this paper, the specific role of grassroots, indigenous religious institutions as order-providers in failed states proves puzzling in part because of the dearth of literature on the subject. What little literature does exist breaks into three main directions. One set of literature addresses an idealistic, theoretical, and here irrelevant role for religious institutions in providing order in lieu of the state. A second set examines the role of religious institutions in statelessness with a specific focus on international networks, foreign actors, and especially jihadists. The third set enumerates and ponders the wide array of order-providing mechanisms in Somalia with little attention to what separates them from each other or how they vary regionally. One might call the first set of literature “classical Islamist theory,” with classical designating a point of reference in classical Muslim theology and society. Monzer Kahf of the Islamic Development Bank serves as a typical representative of this school of scholarly, political, and theological theory: he writes about the now-extinct system of the waqf, a historic Islamic institution for the provision of social welfare and regional public works through locally-managed institutions and without the oversight (or need for the existence) of the state.6 His writings serve not just to detail the waqf system’s history, though—Kahf advocates the recreation of the classical waqf within the confines of the modern state and banking systems.7 In doing so, Kahf ignores the broader historical, regional, and economic contexts and variations of the waqf system; he instead attempts to overlay a reified, classical theoretical model into a modern context, justifying this endeavor by the previous existence of this model. Classical models of Islamic institutions bare little resemblance to the institutions in operation today, or throughout most of history. Islamic doctrine and institutions, in a fashion typical to most religious, morphed into regionally distinct variants as they encountered and insinuated themselves into new societies.8 Thus elements and functions Islamic institutions will vary greatly from region to region and the functioning of theoretical classical models and narratives will hold little relevance to them. Haider Ala Hamoudi, an Assistant Professor of Law at the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, summarizes the condition of this camp of theory on Islamic institutions succinctly. “One contingent of scholars,” he observes, “is not attuned to comprehending and engaging the Muslim world as the world actually exists. This camp prefers instead to limits its study […] almost exclusively to reconstructions of classical Islamic doctrine.”9 Unfortunately, as Hamoudi points out in the same breath, this contingent accounts for the majority of the scholars of Islam. Thus the existing theory pertaining to the functions, organization, and utilization of Islamic institutions describes primarily obsolete and stylized versions that bare little resemblance to the institutions as they function in modern and regional contexts. This literature, thus, does not provide much insight into order-provision by modern, highly regionalized Somali Islamic institutions. -153-
One need only scan the titles in this paper’s bibliography to see that the second set of literature—that which focuses on international, especially jihadist, networks—predominates modern discourse on Islamic institutions, especially in Somalia. Such literature seeks to establish two insights into the study of religious institutions, especially in Somalia. First, the theories purported in this literature view the Somali case as confusing, because they posit that Somalia should be a fertile ground for international Islamism, especially jihadism.10 Second, in this focus upon international Islamist organizations, authors conflate grassroots, indigenous Islamic institutions with international, jihadist Islamic institutions.11 Such literature creates a false impression of the case of Somalia, and of the relative importance of and relationships between local and international Islamic institutions in general. In the Somali case, it obscures the fact that the first international-oriented Islamic institution ever on record in Somalia, the semi-Wahabist Somali Islamic League, only penetrated Mogadishu in 1952.12 It also obscures the fact that such international groups never gained a significant following or traction, and that loyalty remains primarily with local institutions with distinctly local aims and ideologies.13 Abdurahman M. Abdullahi, a Somali and a member of an international Muslim ideological organization, admitted at a conference that, due to this strand of literature and its prominence, “Scholarly studies of the Islamic movements in Somalia remain very superficial, based mostly on sensational media coverage and security related studies in the post-9/11 event and increased curiosity in political Islam in the Horn of Africa.”14 As such it seems clear that this strand of literature serves mainly to confound, conflate and obfuscate the narrative and role of indigenous Islamic institutions in providing order in Somalia. Its prominence also means that literature on the phenomena that concern this study remains anemic. The final strand of relevant literature details the many forms of order-providing systems (not all of them full, standing institutions) in statelessness. While this literature possesses some merits for generalized studies of statelessness, it does flatten out the differences between different forms of order-provision. Such studies on Somalia do mention Islamic institutions as order-providers, but their mention comes in the same breath as other institutions. Somalia expert Kenneth John Menkhaus once enumerated as order-providers “… coalitions of business groups, traditional authorities, and civic groups in promoting more ‘organic’ forms of public order …” without acknowledging the different durability, ubiquity, methods of provision, and origins and functions of these separate institutions.15 Such conflation occurs commonly in the attempt to examine the phenomena of order in statelessness. But this conflation lacks nuance by equalizing all forms of order provision in statelessness, leading to generalized conclusions with little practical or scholarly use save to defend the now well established existence of order in chaos. A theme emerges in the existing literature on religious institutions and their places in creating order, especially in statelessness. The existing literature, though it provides some insights, tends to distract from indigenous, grassroots religious institutions, or deny their unique character and/or functions relative to other order-providers and/or religious institutions. This literature does little to inform theories on the role of indigenous religious institutions; it serves instead to highlight weaknesses in thinking about order-providers within statelessness, to identify biases in scholarship on the potential and actual role of religious institutions in socio-political ordering functions, and to provide more of an impetus for this paper’s line of research in order to fill gaps in the theories of order-provision in statelessness and of the function, organization, and role of religious—especially Islamic—institutions.
The Narrative of Religious Institutions in Somalia: Setting the Stage -154-
Before launching into the full analysis of the Islamic institutions of Somalia, the reader should know that this paper will not provide a dedicated section to the background of Somalia. Rather, as the paper begins its analysis by examining the social organization and religious history of the nation that primed the emergence of Islamic institutions as order-providers, a natural historical narrative will unfold. As the background provides context and evidence for this paper’s analyses, it shall appear when relevant to the section discussed. This avoids the redundancy of a background section, while strengthening the arguments central to this paper. The author believes that this decision will aid in the fluidity of the paper without leaving terms and/or events described vague, devoid of context, or wholly unexplained.16 Naturally Inclined: The Priming of Somalia to Utilize Order-Providing Islamic Institutions Social organization in Somalia derives from a longstanding tradition of clan identity, a lack of centralized rule, and the complexities of a fluid, multi-layered conception of identity. One may argue that clan identity developed recently—in a recent report, a poor northern Somali peasant named Issa summarized a common belief that, “The tribalism business is the work of the urban people. They cook it there and then serve it to us.”17 But most evidence indicates a longstanding focus on the clan as the central unit of Somali social order and life: The renowned Somali anthropologist I.M. Lewis notes that the Somali word for an anthropologist is tol yaqaan, translated as, “he who knows clans and clanship.”18 Beyond this linguistic evidence, Lewis points to the resilience of the clan, noting that during the reign of General Sayid Barre, the Somali dictator from 1969 to 1991, the government waged a protracted war against the notion of clan-based society and identity (clearly seeing it as a threat to centralized rule), going so far as to host symbolic public cremations of clans, all to no avail.19 And, though scant written record of Somali history exists before the colonial period of the twentieth century, some of the few surviving documents describe inter-clan treaties.20 Taken together, this suggests a longstanding, central, and notably durable clan-based social organization in Somalia. Clanship-based identity does not, though, imply that clan identity will remain constant, or that equal levels of clan identity will feel equally salient to all individuals across Somalia. Such reified identities prove almost impossible in a population that, by 1990 (after a period of urbanization) remained 60 percent pastoral nomadic to semi-nomadic.21 Movement and constant contact and divergence with land and other clans resists set clan designations, relations, and hierarchies. Somalis, like most other residents of clan-based societies, exist “within a reality of multiple, overlapping and alternative collective identities,” between which one may slip fluidly in certain contexts.22 Thus one may belong to the Hawiye clan,23 but depending upon external contexts it may prove opportune to identify more with a sub-clan classification.24 One can even completely abandon one’s clan—the majority of members of the Hubeer clan in the inter-rivierine area of south Somalia adopted the clan identity after birth.25 Asking whether the clan system developed as a reaction to a lack of central authority or caused the lack of central authority throughout Somali history is a chicken-or-egg exercise. Regardless of the origins, this entrenched clan system proved difficult to control26—clan elders never developed ruling authority, but acted instead in facilitative capacities27—and led to the development of significant inter-clan conflicts and hostilities. Though Somalia maintained close contacts with Islam from the origins of the faith (the Gulf of Aden is only a 20 mile crossing between Yemen and the Somali-populated Djibouti), Islam only entrenched in Somalia between the 11th and 13th centuries C.E. This correlates to the expansion of Sufi Islam28 and specifically to the arrival of the Sufi Sheikhs Saarood Jabarti and Shaikh Ishaaq, the namesakes of the prominent north Somali Darod and Isaaq clans into which they married.29 These Sufi Sheikhs integrated Islam with the clan system—notably they elevated clan ancestors to the stature of alwiya, or Sufi Muslim saints, and incorporated customary, clan-based xeer law into the -155-
Islamic shari’a legal cannon.30 Sufism, then, assimilated31 to Somali clan-based structures and posed no threat as an external force to the prevailing social order. Sufis did not fully integrate into the clan structure, though. Instead, they built their meetinghouses in the towns that served as points of contact between (semi-)nomadic clans32 and developed a tradition of remaining aloof from politics and clan-loyalties, instead working between clans.33 I.M. Lewis notes the success of this positioning, commenting of his time in Sufi meetinghouses that, “[there] I felt a real wealth of what seemed sincere goodwill, and an atmosphere of peace which contrasted quite starkly with the often combatant spirit evident in other contexts.”34 Clans trusted in this goodwill enough to leave inter-clan contracts in the hands of Sufi scholars, and to write these contracts in Arabic or Somali written in the Arabic script.35 Though future Sufi leaders came from Somali groups rather than as consummate outsiders from across the Gulf of Aden, the tradition of pan-clan trust in Sufi orders and scholar-teachers persists. Even into the modern day, Sufi leaders often limit their interactions to non-violent conflict mediation.36 Contemporary clerics as well testify that today they see themselves as an empowered force for order-provision in Somalia.37 To fulfill this position, throughout history they set up what outsiders often refer to as “courts,” although “ad hoc facilitation and reconciliation meetings” better illustrates the situation. These ad hoc, non-standing courts, in the past and today, “[…] offered rule of law within, but not between, clans,” allowing for federalist separation and the ability for each clan to practice its own form of law and order, “though they often facilitated interclan [sic] relations.”38 Many conflicts within communities still utilized xeer law and non-Sufi order-provision into the modern era, but the ad hoc system of “courts”39 did help to contain major conflicts, most of which emerged (and still do emerge primarily) within clans/communities.40 Historically, the courts relied (and rely) on clan elders to gain acceptance for their rulings and arrest criminals,41 so that clan leaders and Islamic scholars balanced and complemented each other’s authorities and powers to prevent major conflicts within the community and avoid inter-clan conflicts.42 Some sources go as far as suggesting that these Islamic systems and their mediatory functions created a cohesive Somali identity by providing a horizontal identity that cut across prominent clan identities, which served a useful order-provision purpose in pre-state Somalia, making such an identification attractive.43 Intuitively this proposition feels right. Somalis exist across four countries (Ethiopia, Djibouti, Kenya, and Somalia), and their dialects and cultures diverge so heavily that some, like the Af-Maay dialect of the Digil Rahanweyen clan, recently gained classification as discrete and separate languages.44 Yet the nation of Somalia represents the most religious homogeneity in the region, and Somalis worldwide remain almost uniformly wedded to Islam. Historically, the term Somali first appears in a 1415 in a hymn commemorating the Ethiopian Emperor Yeshaq’s defeat of King Sa’ad al-Din, Muslim emperor of the Kingdom of Ifat, the earliest recorded trans-clan ruling unit in now-northern Somalia (the region where Sufism first penetrated Somalia two centuries previously).45 Likewise, the first Somali national hero, Ahmad ibn Ibrihim alGhazi, a Sufi Imam, came one century later from a northern Muslim Somali kingdom (the Sultanate of Adal).46 As such, a cohesive, cross-clan, unifying Somali identity apparently developed at least within, if not from, a Muslim context. Taken together, one sees that Somalis operate within an established, resilient, and firm clanship structure. Islam only took root within this Somali social structure when it established itself as a non-invasive, non-political force. From this post, Islamic scholars could administer hybrid xeerIslamic justice when needed, without imposing on the authority of the clan leader. They also served to mediate inter-clan relations and facilitated the development of a trans-clan Somali identity, itself wrapped up in respect for Islam and identification as Muslim. This does not mean that no level of inter-clan cooperation existed before Islam came to Somalia, or that, within that region, no inter-clan identity existed previously. E.E. Evans-Pritchard, -156-
the first anthropologist to explore the social organization of a stateless society when he wrote on the East African Nuer people in the 1930-40s, noted the same role of a non-political, mediating authority in the figure of the “leopard skin chiefs.”47 But the Somali inter-clan identity, for whatever reasons the space for its development existed, apparently built itself around Islamic identity and Islamic mediation. Thus the social organization of a clanship-based society created a space, filled by a unique Somali-Sufi and highly regionalized brand of Islam, for mediation and horizontal identity. Lighthanded colonial control and a lack of orientalist attempts to codify xeer or classical Islamic law into a national legal system allowed this traditional reliance upon and reverence for Islamic mediation to persist.48 Even under the ostensibly socialist Barre regime, the dictator labeled his politics in Somali hanti wadaag ilmi ki disan, translated as “wealth-sharing based on wisdom,” which carried strong linguistic Islamic connotations49 and betrays the adherence to traditional views on and uses of Islam throughout the Barre era.50 The history of Islam’s role as an inter- and cross-clan mediator and a trusted source, as the cornerstone of Somali identity, primed Somalia as a nation to develop and utilize traditional Islamic-clan cooperative mediation institutions—standing entities rather than ad hoc, varied, and vague systems—to provide order in the absence of any other order-provider like the state. This begs the question of why all of Somalia, then, did not resort to order-provision primarily and uniformly through Islamic courts institutions after the fall of the Barre regime in 1991.
North Versus South: Demographic, Geographic and Economic Triggers for the Utilization of Order-Providing Islamic Institutions If all of Somalia received priming for the usage of Islamic mediation in resolving conflicts, but only south Somalia developed the usage of Islamic institutions as the major source of orderprovision after 1991, this suggests that some difference exists between the north and south of Somalia.51 Given that Islamic institutions provide mediation in conflict situations, one might suppose that the north and south of Somalia experienced different levels of conflict and disorder within the Barre regime and during its decline and fall. This thesis does not hold, though. The Barre regime began to unravel in 1978 when clanbased revolts and conflicts launched throughout the nation. The first revolt from within the military led to the execution of 17 ringleaders, all from the Majerteen52, a Darod sub-clan and the major force in what became Puntland in the north.53 Thereafter, the Somali National Front composed of Isaaq and Somali Democratic Alliance composed of Gadabursi (Somalilander constituents), the United Somali Congress composed of Hawiye and Somali Democratic Movement composed of Rahanweyn (south Somali constituents), and the Somali Salvation Democratic Front composed of Majeerteen, all launched into multi-year conflicts with Barre and with each other.54 Barre responded with an elite force known as Duub Cas, composed entirely of his own Mareehaan clan (south Somali constituents), who shelled, destroyed the livestock and water supplies of, and committed target killings and rapes against all of the abovementioned clans (not just the militant groups, but the clans as a whole).55 After the fall of Barre in 1991, violence and warlordism reigned across the north and the south until 1996.56 Little data exists to demonstrate the degree of the violence in each region (certainly Mogadishu seems to have suffered the most throughout, though) and compare between regions. However, given that Hargeysa, the capital of the current Somaliland, a northern de facto state, suffered near-total destruction near the end of the Barre shellings, one can safely assume despite common narrative focuses on the damage to the southern cities, that a degree of -157-
commensurate chaos and violence in pockets of the north and south at the end of the Barre regime and into the first five years of statelessness. Yet Islamic mediation institutions only developed and deployed in great force in south Somalia, with the development of standing courts, rather than the previous, traditional ad hoc system, in Mogadishu in the early 1990s.57 The traditional systems of mediation reached their apex of visibility in Mogadishu as well when, in 1992, the prominent Sheikhs Mohammad Moallim, Ibrahim Suley, and Sharif Sharafow attempted mediation between the warlords of Mogadishu Ali Mahdi Mohammed and General Mohammad Farah Aideed.58 By the end of the 1990s, the court system as a dedicated, mobilized Islamic institution for order-provision reigned throughout the south, yet throughout the 1990s no commensurate displays or developments came out of the equally damaged but more rapidly stabilized north.59 Rather than focusing on the disorder created by violence initially, it serves in this case to consider the factors that might facilitate the perpetuation of conflict or the decline of previous systems of parallel order-provision in the south, but which are absent in the north. Given that the above section demonstrated that, historically, animosities within and between clans called for the actions of mediators, an investigation of the regional differences in clan compositions and incentives for clan conflict seems prudent. Somalia’s demography constitutes the cause of the uneven reliance on order-providing standing court institutions. The northern region of Somaliland consists of two clans, the Issaq and the Dir, both of which belong to the category of “noble clans,” or clans of the same social standing, while the northern region of Puntland consists only of the noble Darod clan and its sub-clans.60 The south, meanwhile, splits unevenly between the noble Hawiye and Darod clans and the marginalized Digil and Rahaweyn clans, as well as non- or sub-clan individuals with no social standing at all, and with a great deal of intermixing and a lack of clear clan borders.61 Somali Envoy to the U.S. Abukar Arman admits that current thought within Somali political circles focuses on heterogeneity as a significant source of continuing conflict and instability.62 The south does not just represent the point of the most clan diversity and mixing, but also a unique geographic and economic point. The hilly and arid north does not permit significant agriculture, urbanization, or external trade, and thus allows for homogeneity in clans, less resources for clans to dispute, and less points of contact between clans.63 The south represents the most urbanization, agriculture and industry, and trade profits in the nation—all resources easily monopolized physically.64 One of Menkhaus’s first projects consisted of an examination of the migration and exploitation patterns along the high-population-density and agriculturally rich Lower Jubba Valley in the south, motivated by its resource abundances.65 Menkhaus’s account of this specific region echoes events throughout the south: attempts to monopolize resources lead to conflicts between distinct clan social categories, and the overuse of resources leads to new resource scarcities causing clan subjugation and conflict. Between the observations of two regions with similar origins in violence and disorder upon entering statelessness, with similar histories and cultures, and Menkhaus and Arman’s observations on the potential for clanship structures to descend into resource conflicts, distinct demographic, geographic, and economic conditions of the north and south led to different conflict development paths. In Somaliland, the clan elders overcame early disorder and eventually reestablished peace.66 In Puntland, clan elders exercise a strong control over the most homogeneous clan region in the nation.67 Both Somaliland and Puntland did utilize ad hoc courts to aid in settling grievances, but never encountered any persistence in conflict beyond the restoration of order necessitating the creation of a standing court institution.68 But in south Somalia the complicity of clan elders in political and exploitative practices and the power of warlords and businessmen challenged the authority and effectiveness of clan leaders, leaving the traditional ad hoc courts without their clan-158-
based point of contact, initiation, and aid.69 Menkhaus’s early work suggests that these business interests and politicizations, which delegitimized clan leader authority and prolonged conflict within the context of a highly clan-heterogeneous environment, derive from the rich geography and economics of the region. Proximately, this section demonstrates, the rise of standing Islamic court institutions as a main order-provider derives from long-term, unresolved conflict necessitating mediation coupled with exploitation and elder-initiated conflict undermining the legitimacy of the traditional clancentric partner institutions to the ad hoc Islamic courts. The causative variables leading to this proximate cause of perpetual disorder and clan-leadership delegitimization include demography, geography, and economics. Thus these three variables help to determine, within the context of the primed clan-based society, whether or not Islamic courts will move from ad hoc groupings to actual institutions and become prominent order-providers as a means of coping with perpetual intra- and inter-clan violence and the lack of legitimate clan-based leadership. Such standing court systems receive support from everyone in the country—even the north.70 Yet in the south the courts developed in directions unfamiliar to the traditional court system and eventually faced rebuff from local recipients of their order. Many of these southern courts eventually failed. Given the success of early court systems and the power and popularity of Islam, one must pose the question (in order to understand how religious institutions like the courts can function) as to why some Islamic courts developed as they did and failed.
Legally Dead: Political Preconditions, Politicization, and the Decline in Utilization of Order-Providing Islamic Institutions If courts in both their ad hoc and standing forms were historically, and are presently, orderproviding institutions, then it makes the most sense for a court to fail upon its failure to provide order. This would necessitate an investigation on how the order-provision services of a court fail. But the courts do not tend to fail in order-provision. The courts maintained order in their jurisdictions in all recorded cases in this paper’s research until the point of collapse.71 Yet no other explanation for the collapse of order-providing courts readily presents itself. Following the case of one of the earliest courts to collapse helps to explain the overarching cause of collapse in courts. In 1994, one of the earliest courts in Mogadishu fell under the control of an Islamic scholar named Ali Dheere. Dheere, a staunch Islamic radical, eliminated xeer and started delivering the harshest punishments possible based on a strict and conservative interpretation of pure Islamic law. The court still maintained order within Mogadishu, but soon thereafter popular dissent uninstalled Dheere and by 1999 the community banished his entire court (and the radical influence therein).72 Dheere’s court did not fail because it failed to provide order. Rather, Dheere’s court failed because it destroyed the traditional, indigenous legitimacy of the Islamic scholar as an arbiter of Somali order by eliminating accommodating legal practices. Dheere replaced this traditional Islamic mediation system with a theo-political mission—he sought to impose a foreign system of strict Islamic law upon the Mogadishu district his court served and thus contribute to the radical, transformative-revolutionary movement of reestablishing classical Islamic social and political order. This may seem a great leap of interpretation regarding Dheere, but this conclusion does not come from a void. During the early 1990s, the 11 courts functioning in Mogadishu retained great popular respect and stayed out of politics (both radical, transformative Islamist politics and clanship maneuverings for control of the south).73 But by the mid-1990s, four courts came together into a coordinated movement—the origins of the Union of Islamic Courts that would by 2006 control -159-
much of south Somalia. These courts, Ifka Halane (operated by Hasan Dahir Aweys, a former member of al-Itihaad al-Islaami [AIAI], the first major Somali Islamist group advocating theocratic, centralized rule of Somalia under a foreign, classical Islamic law), Circolo (led by Afghan al-Qaeda trained AIAI member Aden Hashi Farah), Warshadda (the first to institute public executions), and Hararyaale, banded together to consult on legal practice and mission.74 By 2000, Aweys gained total control of the Union of Islamic Courts (although the public face was a moderate cleric), and by 2005 he aligned his courts to Aden Hashi Farah Aryo, the head of an al-Qaeda trained militia now known as al-Shabaab.75 A year later, upon the ascendancy of the Union to a position of power over most of south Somalia, a document leaked to WikiLeaks by the Chinese from the desk of Aweys, explicitly outlined a plan to use militias in conjunction with classical, radical Islamist dominated courts to create a centralized, theocratic Somali state based on classical Islamic law and like structures espoused by al-Qaeda and the Taliban.76 Clearly, Dheere represented just part of a much larger movement towards the co-option of the court systems as a means of realizing a politicized and revolutionary Islamic goal. The Union provided order, which Somalis appear to have appreciated. Yet even before the Union collapsed under an Ethiopian invasion in 2006, it faced internal unrest as Somalis, unsettled by the movement towards a foreign and centralized system of courts, began to criticize and demonstrate against it.77 Such a system of centralization and politicization in Somalia inevitably meets with dissent and ultimate rejection (if the entity does not physically suppress the dissent—but even Barre’s regime eventually met its end) simply because it opposes the highly localized, federalized, and mediated systems of justice and order that marked the ad hoc court and clan leader co-operations throughout Somali history and into the present day.78 This demonstrates a generalizable rule for Somali Islamic institutions: politicization and centralization lead to failure due to popular rejection. Even non-radical, non-transformative Islamic institutions faced rejection once they politicized. Take the case of the Ahlu Sunna Wal Jama’a, a Sufi traditionalist and moderate organization coordinating scholars. General Aideed, the Mogadishu warlord, sought in his twilight to utilize Ahlu for legitimacy, but their acceptance of his offer and involvement in the politics of clanism and warlordism eroded their initial popularity in south Somalia. Meanwhile, Majma’ ‘Ulimadda Islaamka Ee Soomaaliya, the branch of Sufi scholars who left Ahlu when it aligned itself politically with General Aideed and instead remained allied with non-political, indigenous courts, retains its popularity.79 Politicization and centralization, again, delegitimized the Ahlu organization and led to its failure despite its potential to provide order. Unfortunately south Somalia is primed for the politicization of religious institutions as a result of the politics and subsequent migration and education trends of the Barre regime. In 1975, when Barre authored a new Family Law that met with opposition form traditional Sufi Muslim scholars, who demonstrated against its provisions, Barre publicly executed 10 south Somali scholars and began the active persecution of Islamic scholars throughout the nation.80 Throughout the 197080s, numerous Somali scholars fled into exile or travelled for work to Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf States, where they encountered constitutional Islam, the Muslim Brotherhood, and al-Qaeda.81 These scholars, like Aweys and Dheree, returned and organized active politicized Islamic organizations—minority organizations, but highly active and visible, and mainly functional in Mogadishu—like AIAI, which attempted to overcome clanism and militarily maintain order to create a classical Islamic state.82 But after failing to overcome clanism, and once their lasts outposts fell to Ethiopian forces in 1997, the AIAI leadership returned to their south Somali communities as respected scholars with foreign education and proceeded to integrate themselves as leading clerics in the courts.83 -160-
AIAI was not unique in south Somalia. A number of other Islamic political organizations operated in Mogadishu, including al-Islah and Ahlu mentioned above. Most Muslim charities in the 1990s also opened in Mogadishu, bringing with them the ideologies and proponents of international, political Islam from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, and the Gulf States.84 Only one political Islamic organization existed in the north—Wahdat al-Shabab al-Islamiya in Hargeysa during the 1980s—but it could not gain traction.85 This exposure to political Islamic ideals in the south of Somalia due to the hub of Mogadishu and the policies of Barre towards Islamic scholars in the region leading to education abroad meant that a tradition of political Islam and a learned elite specializing in the politicization of Islamic institutions dominated in the region. Combine this with the aforementioned decline of the power of clan leaders, the proliferation of warlords, and the weakness of court institutions, prone to collapse when threatened without a clan behind them, and the militant mobilization of Islam presented itself as a viable option for the maintenance of the court system.86 The presence of foreign, intervening actors provided cover for aggressive, political Islam as well, serving as enemies to rally against, meaning that interventions from all ends empowered hardline leadership of the south’s courts as well.87 In this politically primed environment, the radicalization and politicization of Islamic courts seems to have been inevitable. And given the tendency for politicized, centralized Islamic organizations to fail in the Somali context, this priming predestined failure. The politicization of Islamic institutions in south Somalia did not discredit Islam as a force of order, though. During the 2006 centralization of the Union and dissent against that process, nationwide broadcasts by 9 leading Islamic scholars in the south calling for Islamic charity to help aid victims of flooding in the south led to nationwide outpourings of inter-clan assistance.88 Likewise, and even more telling, after the collapse of the Union, communal, non-political courts reemerged in Mogadishu and the rest of south Somalia with equal legitimacy and success in achieving basic order.89 This indicates that, while south Somali court institutions appear primed for failure due to the tendency for court leaders to move in a politicizing, centralizing, non-traditional direction, if the south can overcome this priming, the court systems will remain active, functional, and legitimate.
The Narrative in Afghanistan Thus far this paper has demonstrated that, in the case of Somalia, the social organization of the nation and religion’s place in that social organization primed the nation to utilize religious institutions to mediate conflict and provide order within and between clans. Prolonged conflict and the disintegration of clan leadership as a result of demographic, geographic, and economic factors in turn facilitated the shift from ad hoc mediation by courts to the creation of standing courts as key order-providers in a stateless society. Yet these order-providing courts collapse when politicized and centralized, although the popular appeal and history of utility of Islamic mediating and orderproviding systems remains. Now this narrative model must briefly be tested in another context of state failure—here, Afghanistan. The Pashtun in Afghanistan represent a tribal society with an identity based in a mixture of the tribal legal code of pashtunwali and a horizontal Islamic identity.90 Islam introduced itself as an accommodative faith, as in Somalia, with non-political religious leaders inserting themselves into clan disputes, using Islam to mobilize inter-clan meetings and contracts.91 In the case of Afghanistan, the demographic, geographic, and economic links do not operate the same way as in Somalia, but in states of prolonged conflict Islamic authorities assert themselves more often and visibly.92 And especially on the strategically important (geographic factor) border between Afghanistan and -161-
Pakistan, they have assumed (often forcibly) more permanent places in and control of jirga councils, the rough equivalent of the Somali court.93 This trend generally correlates to the triggering by situationally motivated prolonged conflict of standing, order-providing (uniting) Islamic institutions.94 But the leadership of these institutions was likewise influenced by politicized radicals—the Taliban, stepping in after the destruction of traditional leaders—whose brand of Islamic law flew in the face of traditional Pashtun Islamic law, appalled most Afghans, and could not penetrate far beyond the Pashtun-Afghan lands (into the north).95 After defeat (although not by public dissent alone), the Taliban have only reasserted themselves by working within the confines and interests of village elders, focusing on justice provision as needed, and moderating their foreign, offensive, and overtly transformative, radical, and political Islamic requirements. 96 This provides a truly cursory sketch and glosses over the historic, military, interventionist, theological, demographic, etc. differences between the situations in Somalia and Afghanistan. However it does demonstrate that, within stylized confines, the narrative of the rise of an Islamic institution of order-provision comes from the priming of Afghan society to use such institutions, triggering of their usage within chaos, itself caused by a series of geopolitical factors, and retention of legitimacy and functioning only when acting without a specifically political, radical, centralizing aim, instead focusing on order provision. As such the Somali narrative-model holds, although with great regional variation, and can explain the broad strokes of the developments in Afghanistan’s politico-religious sphere.
Conclusion This paper set out to examine how and why indigenous, grassroots religious institutions can be mobilized to create order in failed states/stateless societies. In doing so, it sought to examine the role of Islamic institutions—courts—in Somalia, especially their selective mobilization and/or success across different regions of the country. This examination produced a tripartite narrative. In the first step, the social organization of flexible and central clan structures in Somalia and the early interactions of Islam with that clan structure set up the avenues by which Islamic institutions could mobilize on an ad hoc basis to provide order. This primed Somalia for the use of Islamic institutions to institute order. The second stage involves the triggering of this prime, in which a series of demographic, geographic, and economic factors create perpetual disorder and damage existing systems providing order, calling for the creation of a standing, long-term court institution to provide order in statelessness. The third stage determines whether or not the institution will survive, with a lack of survival predicted based upon the impetus to politicize and centralize the Islamic institution, which itself means promoting a foreign (though still order-providing) system of Islam within the institution. A brief comparison of this Somali narrative to the case of Islamic institutions as orderproviders in Afghanistan indicates the general applicability of the Somali narrative-model for explaining the potential utilization and/or success of religious institutions as order-providers. The narrative model can serve to predict and/or analyze the order-providing role of religious institutions in clan-based societies. This at first seems like a limited usage, but given that clans by many other names exist at some level in many states, the model, though not perfect and still in need of testing (though this paper should, though, provide an impetus for further testing), can provide an interesting lens on religious institutions and order in many societies. It also serves to better inform policymakers upon and highlight the differences between varied religious institutions and orderproviding institutions in a nation of current high strategic importance. At the very least, the narrative-model outlined above from the case of Somalia helps to begin to bridge some of the gaps -162-
in the literature on state failure, Islamic institutions as order-providers, and varieties of Islamic institutions in failed states. The narrative-model does, however, require testing when applied to nonIslamic and/or non-legal institutions and when applied in differing levels of state failure/statelessness before it can truly develop policy relevance, any predictive power, and/or constitute a serious contribution to state failure theories. 1
This refers to institutions that develop from local sources and through local ideologies. These institutions should not be confused with international religious networks or local actors of foreign origins like al-Qaeda. 2 Friedman and Kanazawa, 1999, provide a useful overview of the literature and theory of non-state institutions creating order within statelessness. They also provide a sound critique on the overall effectiveness of such institutions and the logic behind them. 3 Defined in this paper as the total collapse of the state such that the offices, resources, and institutions of governance no longer exist. 4 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 580 lists, as do many, the Treaty of Westphalia as the formal origin of modern (European) states, implying a level of statelessness in pre-existing European nations. 5 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 103 explicitly mentions local and extra-national roles played by Catholic institutions in establishing order in formally stateless pre-Westphalia Europe. 6 Kahf, 1999 7 Kahf, 1999, p. 56-66 8 Layish, 2006, p. 63 9 Hamoudi, 2008, p. 83 10 International Crisis Group, 2005, p. i 11 Shank, 2007, p. 97 describes the Islamic courts as institutions directly involved in fighting. Rather, this paper shall demonstrate, the courts as an regional institution did not fight, but had tenuous and variable relationships, at periods, with parallel, external international networks engaged in jihad. 12 Saggiomo, 2011, p. 54 13 International Crisis Group, 2005, p. 13 demonstrates that even moderate international Islamist groups without jihadist ideologies and populated mainly by Somalis always remained insignificant. 14 Abdullahi, 2008, p. 4 15 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 74 16 As an aid to the reader in keeping clan names, regions, and events in context, several maps follow this paper in the Appendix. 17 Waters, 2008, p. 3 18 Lewis, 2003, p. 313 19 Lewis, 2003, p. 314 20 Lewis, 2003, p. 300 21 Terdman, 2008, p. 16 22 Waters, 2008, p. 6, 9 23 A dominant clan in central Somalia and the main clan in Mogadishuâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;most of the 1991-1996 warlords who ravaged Somalia and fought for power in Mogadishu were Hawiye. 24 Terdman, 2008, p. 82-3 describes how members of the Hawiye clan, formerly aligned against Barre, divided into sub-clan identities and fought each other until forced to reunite to resist the 2006 Ethiopian invasion launched against the Union of Islamic Courts. 25 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 567 26 Terdman, 2008, p. 37 27 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 568 28 Often called â&#x20AC;&#x153;mystic Islam,â&#x20AC;? Sufism connotes an adaptive and liberal strand of Islam associated with extrasocietal, egalitarian brotherhoods and hierarchical orders led by teachers known as Sheikhs. -163-
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Turdman, 2008, p. 18 “Islam and Somali Social Order,” 2011 31 Layish, 2003, p. 63 this is typical of successful Muslim expansions into new societies. 32 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 86-7 33 Waters, 2008, p. 12 34 Lewis, 2003, p. 308 35 Lewis, 2003, p. 310 36 Waters, 2008, p. 12 37 Grestle, 2009, p. 1 38 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 85 39 Though “courts” does not describe the situation, this paper shall use it for convenience. 40 Menkhaus and Prendergast, 1995, p. 24 41 “Islam and Somali Social Order,” 2011 42 Waters, 2008, p. 12 43 Waters, 2008, p. 10 44 Terdman, 2008, p. 14 45 Terdman, 2008, p. 19 46 Terdman, 2008, p. 23 47 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 565 48 Lewis, 2003, p. 308, 311 49 The Marxist Claude Meillassoux criticized the explicit Muslim overtones of the regime. 50 Lewis, 2003, p. 319 51 It should be noted here that Somalia divides into three distinct zones: Somaliland and Puntland in the north, characterized by a degree of stability, and south Somalia, characterized by instability and pockets of Islam-mediated order. 52 Note that spellings for clan and individual names in English, translated out of Somali, vary greatly. This paper attempts to maintain consistency in using the most phonetically accurate, common, and/or readable version of each name. However this may lead to unavoidable discrepancies in spellings within quotations and appendix resources. Please excuse this linguistic kerfuffle. 53 Terdman, 2008, p. 32 54 Terdman, 2008, p. 32-3, 36 55 Terdman, 2008, p. 32-3 56 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 91 57 “Profile: Somalia’s Islamic Courts,” 2006 58 “Islam and Somali Social Order,” 2011 59 Terdman, 2008, p. 61 60 Terdman, 2008, p. 13 61 Terdman, 2008, p. 13 62 Hay, 2010, p. 26 63 “Somalia,” 2011 64 Terdman, 2008, p. 13 65 Menkhaus, 1989 66 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 569 67 Menkhaus, 1998, p. 221 68 Grestle, 2009, p. 93 69 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 569 30
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“Somaliland Politicians Reportedly Support Islamists,” 2006, pg. 1 International Crisis Group, 2005, p. 19-20; “Islamic Takeover ‘Good for Somalia Business,’” 2006 72 International Crisis Group, 2005, p. 19-20 73 “Profile: Somalia’s Islamic Courts,” 2006 74 Terdman, 2008, p. 61 75 Terdman, 2008, p. 51, 61 76 “Inside Somalia and the Union of Islamic Courts,” 2006—note that WikiLeaks itself questions the veracity of the leak, but the sentiment remains credible. 77 Waters, 2008, p. 23 78 Menkhaus, 2006/7, p. 76 79 International Crisis Group, 2005, p. 16-7 80 “Islam and Somali Social Order,” 2011 81 “Islam and Somali Social Order,” 2011 82 Waters, 2008, p. 15-17 83 Terdman, 2008, p. 50 84 Saggiomo, 2011, p. 56 85 Terdman, 2008, p. 48 86 Menkhaus, 2002, p. 116 87 Elmi, 2010 88 Saggiomo, 2011, p. 57 89 Leonard and Samantar, 2011, p. 574 90 Kakar, 2007, p. 22 91 Baha, 1978, p. 41, 135 92 Khan, 1993, p. 21-2 93 “Pashtunwali: Honour Among Them,” 2006 94 Rashid, 2008, p. 25, 35 The Taliban’s origins were in order-provision in response to crisis and disorder as well. 95 Rashid, 2008, p. 2, 19 96 Giustozzi, 2008, p 50, 111 71
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The Politics of Implementing European Court of Human Rights Judgments Sharanbir Grewal, Georgetown University The European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) is often considered the gold standard of effective international adjudication. Much of the literature on international courts presumes that compliance is a minor issue for the ECtHR. Helfer and Slaughter (1997), for instance, found the ECtHR’s record of compliance to be “extremely high” and comparable to national courts.1 Even their critics, Posner and Yoo (2005), conceded that the ECtHR and the European Court of Justice are uniquely effective.2 However, recent empirical work demonstrates that compliance is problematic for the ECtHR, even among established democracies. Von Staden (2009) found that only 58 per cent of all judgments made by the court between 1960 and 2005 were resolved by November 2009.3 Hillebrecht (2010) found only about 48 per cent compliance with ECtHR mandates in a subsample of pending cases and noted that “even robust democracies with strong human rights safeguards exhibit marked variation in their compliance with the European Court of Human Rights.”4 The Council of Europe’s Committee of Ministers, which supervises the execution of ECtHR judgments, admits the Court faces challenges in compliance. For example, in their 2010 annual report, the Committee of Ministers highlighted that in only 28 per cent of that year’s cases were payments of just satisfaction made on time.5 In addition, nearly 60 per cent of the “leading cases” had been awaiting a final resolution for more than two years.6 By sheer numbers, “the Committee of Ministers has presently over 1000 such cases on its agenda.”7 Hidden beneath these aggregate statistics is tremendous variation in how quickly ECtHR judgments are implemented. Some judgments are implemented within months whereas others are still awaiting a resolution after a decade or more. Why are some judgments implemented more quickly than others? We analyze this question using a new database of nearly 1000 “leading”8 ECtHR cases. We propose a simple model that integrates arguments from managerialists, who highlight variation in the capacity of judiciaries and bureaucracies, and enforcement theorists, who stress that compliance is a function of the incentive structures that may compel political leaders to take measures that they would prefer to avoid. Integrating these concerns, however, should not lead us to simply add managerialist variables together with enforcement variables. Indeed, doing so may lead us to underestimate the impact of both sets of arguments. Instead, we argue that the effect of these variables depends on the implementation task. Some ECtHR judgments are implemented more quickly in countries where bureaucracies and judiciaries are relatively efficient and effective, as the managerial view of compliance with international law would suggest. Yet, capacity matters little if a legislature or executive is determined to obstruct compliance. With such cases, implementation or the lack thereof depends on the ability of political leaders to withstand domestic and international pressures for compliance. We find strong support for this argument. Countries with effective bureaucracies and judiciaries implement judgments more quickly but the importance of effective bureaucracy decreases strongly and significantly the longer a case remains pending. By contrast, domestic political -166-
constraints and stable democracy typically slow down the implementation of judgments as they provide additional veto points that hinder policy change. Yet, as judgments are pending longer (and perhaps are more politically sensitive), executives with high constraints are less able to resist pressures to comply than those with fewer constraints. We find at best weak evidence that international pressures also contribute to faster implementation, thus corroborating the recent literature that domestic constraints are the key to compliance with international human rights treaties. These findings would be obscured in simple additive regression models that are common in the literature. Without interactions, country characteristics have few if any observable impact after controlling for judgment characteristics. We argue more generally that studies of the implementation of international legal obligations should consider how country characteristics may matter differently for different implementation tasks. We first review theoretical approaches to understanding why countries comply with their international legal obligations and highlight our own approach. We then describe how we collected the data on implementation of ECtHR judgments. The next section sketches variation in implementation rates among various types of judgments before turning to the regression analyses. Since we have duration data, we use a Cox regression mode with shared frailties to address the heterogeneity stemming from the fact that we have multiple observations from multiple countries.
Theories of Compliance with International Court Judgments The ECtHR allows citizens from forty-seven Council of Europe member states9 to charge that their government has violated one of the rights protected by the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (hereafter the Convention).10 The Convention protects rights as varied as freedom of speech, privacy, property rights, rights to a fair trial, and personal integrity rights. The Court can demand that states pay monetary compensation to victims and take other individual measures, such as reopening judicial proceedings or releasing someone from prison. Other judgments require more general measures to ensure compliance and prevent repeat violations, including legislative change. The Court has issued over 10,000 judgments including many politically controversial opinions on the rights of gays to serve in the military, voting rights for prisoners, extradition of terrorism suspects to countries where they might be tortured, privacy rights of celebrities, the independence and efficiency of trials, property rights, abortion rights, and many other issues. The Court has recently become a victim of its own success, as there is currently a backlog of over 150,000 individual applications.11 While compliance remains far from perfect, court judgments have led to major legislative changes in all member states.12 Why then, are some judgments implemented while others are not? The theoretical literature on compliance with international law is often divided into two schools of thought. 13 The enforcement school explains variation in compliance with variation in the self-interests of governments and the carrots and sticks that can incentivize governments to accept legal obligations that go against their narrow self-interests. These theorists first point out that in international law, states can choose what international legal obligations to accept; thus allowing them to carefully select into only those treaty regimes that require few if any meaningful departures from the domestic status quo. In this sense, the ECtHR presents somewhat of a puzzle as all (quasi-) European states (aside from Belarus) have joined despite their varied human rights records and the delegation of authority to an independent court. Enforcement theorists have two potential answers to this puzzle. First, while the Court itself is independent, there are few credible coercive means to enforce implementation of its judgments.14 States could simply refuse to implement judgments they do not like. Individuals have to exhaust -167-
domestic remedies before they can appeal to the ECtHR. The process is lengthy and offers ample opportunities for settlements and for governments to preemptively remedy alleged violations if these are minor. By the time the Court finds a violation, it almost by definition requires an adjustment that a government would prefer to avoid. Thus, enforcement theorists would expect low levels of compliance. Second, enforcement theorists argue that there may be decentralized mechanisms that provide incentives for states to engage in and implement international legal obligations. For example, states, especially less powerful ones, may care about their reputation to accept international legal obligations.15 There may also be tangible international benefits from implementing ECtHR judgments, such as membership in the European Union (EU).16 Since the establishment of the Copenhagen criteria in 1993, countries under consideration of EU membership are monitored for their compliance with ECtHR judgments, which may result in higher and quicker rates of compliance for those countries under scrutiny.17 More recently, scholars have highlighted domestic political incentives. 18 First, in countries where legislatures exercise a strong constraint on power, legislatures could force unwilling executives to comply.19 On the other hand, scholars have noted that veto players can delay and even stop compliance, and thus higher constraints may lead to decreased executive autonomy and decreased compliance.20 We expect that both mechanisms are at work. Initially, constraints are likely to slow down implementation but executives will have a harder time persisting in their failure to implement their legal obligations in countries where power is more dispersed. Second, Moravcsik (2000) argues that newly emerging democracies will seek to “lock-in” democratic regimes by making binding commitments to human rights tribunals.21 By contrast, older democracies and non-democracies perceive such binding commitments as burdens rather than opportunities. Moravcsik’s argument presumes that new democracies have leaders in place that are eager to implement human rights judgments but that are fearful of what their successors might do. This provides incentives for leaders in new democracies to quickly implement ECtHR judgments. Yet, new democracies lack the mature domestic institutions that can force leaders to implement more politically costly decisions. Thus, if the ECtHR comes down with a judgment that strongly goes against a leader’s political interests, there is less ability of the domestic system to enforce compliance. Thus, we expect that stable democracies perform as well or better than judgments that have been pending longer or that are ex ante controversial. The second school, labeled the managerial school, maintains that governments typically have a presumption to comply with their international legal obligations but that they vary in their capacity to do so.22 Moreover, some obligations are simply harder to implement than are others, for example because legal rules are sometimes ambiguous.23 This perspective takes seriously the notion that international legal obligations, including court judgments, exert a compliance pull regardless of the material consequences for governments.24 Yet, states vary considerably in their ability to implement their legal obligations effectively and efficiently. Managerialists posit that this variation can be explained through differing capacities. Those countries with more efficient bureaucracies and judiciaries can be expected to comply with ECtHR judgments more quickly than other states.25 Managerialists, however, have difficulty explaining why some judgments take so long to implement even if they are straightforward from a capacity standpoint. For example, Turkey’s unwillingness to return a property to a Greek Cypriot woman has nothing to do with the difficulty of implementation and everything with the complex political issue of recognizing rights of Greek Cypriots who lived in Northern Cyprus.26 Moreover, managerialists are unable to explain why compliance is often problematic in large, wealthy, and well-functioning democracies.27 Yet, the merit of managerialist ideas is often dismissed too easily by enforcement theorists. Implementation of many, if not most, judgments is delegated in most states to bureaucracies and the -168-
judiciary. These are thus important actors in the implementation process. Moreover, enforcement theorists often argue that explaining compliance by arguing that states have a presumption to comply is circular. Yet, there is experimental evidence that both citizens and elites are more likely to favor policies simply because they are consistent with international law.28 This presumption to comply is unlikely to be absolute, but even if it is modest it can importantly affect empirical analyses of compliance. Typically, enforcement approaches are associated with a political economy or rational choice perspective whereas the managerial school fits more comfortably within a constructivist framework. The two schools also have differing policy implications. Managerialists argue that compliance with international legal obligations can be improved simply by making it clearer what these obligations are or otherwise aiding states with implementation. By contrast, enforcement theorists highlight that international institutions need to step up monitoring and punishment. Nevertheless, in practice these approaches are often complementary.29 For example, in 1993 the CoE strengthened the monitoring of ECtHR judgments by creating an explicit role for the CoE’s Parliamentary Assembly.30 The Court also started using so-called pilot judgments, which offer individuals quick justice when states refuse to take general measures that prevent further violations. For example, the ECtHR in Hirst v. the United Kingdom (No. 2) found that the UK law that banned all prisoners from voting violated the Convention.31 After the UK refused to alter the law, the ECtHR started issuing pilot judgments that grant numerous prisoners monetary compensation, thus punishing non-compliance as enforcement theorists would have it.32 Yet, the Court and the Committee of Ministers (the CoE institution charged with monitoring implementation) have also followed managerialist advice by increasing the clarity of what would be required to satisfactorily implement the Court’s judgments. While the ECtHR does not explicitly state what reforms each country must take (as the Inter-American Court of Human Rights does), the Committee of Ministers has come to express their approval and disapproval of current reforms and suggest other reforms during supervision, especially through the issuance of interim resolutions.33 While the complementarity of the enforcement and managerial approaches has been recognized by others34, existing approaches have not focused on the implementation task as the intermediary variable. Hovi and Aakre (2010) create a model in which some countries are motivated solely by the normative presumption to comply, while others are motivated solely by self-interest.35 Von Staden (2009) argues that while all liberal Western democracies have a general presumption to comply, the depths of their reforms differ based on the factors relevant to the enforcement school.36 Beach (2005) integrates normative and instrumental costs by positing that an international court is initially created out of instrumental calculations, but over time domestic elites and the general public come to accept and internalize the relevant international law as the ‘law of the land’, and thereby the normative costs gain greater importance.37 Most quantitative analyses of compliance estimate an additive regression model that combines indicators from managerialist theories with indicators derived from the enforcement school.38 Yet, if, as in the UK prisoner voting rights case, a legislature explicitly rejects implementation of a judgment,39 then there is little an effective bureaucracy can do. Thus, the estimated effect of effective bureaucracy on implementation of these judgments should be close to zero. Yet, on those cases that escape the attention of political leaders, variation in bureaucratic capacity may well make an enormous difference for implementation rates. For example, there are many property rights judgments that require restitution of property or actions by agencies that administer social security payments. There are also judgments that demand new judicial proceedings or revisiting a permit rejection. Such cases are often important as they carry massive consequences for individuals and sometimes beyond that, for example because they alter how individuals can access their rights vis-à-vis an administration. Yet, their implementation is not usually delayed by -169-
high-level political interference. In Salomonsson v. Sweden, for instance, the ECtHR found the Swedish Administrative Court of Appeal in violation of article 6-1 (right to a fair trial) for rejecting without an oral hearing an appeal by a man applying for disability benefits.40 Ex ante, the government stated that an oral hearing would be “unnecessary.” Yet following the decision, Sweden quickly published the judgment and sent out an explanatory report to all relevant judicial authorities, as well as allowed the applicant the right to reopen his proceedings. Sweden’s quick bureaucratic reforms thus allowed individuals greater access to their procedural rights and thereby social security benefits without stirring significant political opposition. By contrast, similar cases in countries with less effective bureaucracies (such as Italy and Poland) have remained unresolved for years following ECtHR judgments. There are thus interactive effects between country-level variables and judgment characteristics. A failure to adjust for these interactions may well lead to biased estimates for the factors highlighted by both sets of theories. A country like the UK, with excellent bureaucratic and judicial capacity but also with a political system prone to resist pan-Europeanism and with the power to fend off international pressures to comply, may well be among the fastest implementers on some issues and the most recalcitrant on others, as illustrated by the prisoner voting rights example. The difficulty in testing this idea is that the degree to which a judgment invites high-level political opposition is not easy to observe ex ante. We therefore focus our inquiry on examining how the relative importance of country characteristics varies as cases are pending longer. The theory implies that countries with effective bureaucracies and judiciaries will resolve cases that do not elicit high-level political opposition very quickly but that other factors determine how politically controversial issues are resolved. This leads to the hypothesis that states with more effective bureaucracies and judiciaries should implement judgments more quickly, but this effect will diminish the longer a case is pending (controlling for case characteristics). We also expect that states with greater relative power are better able to resist international pressures.41 Yet, since these pressures will only become apparent once a case has been pending for a while, we expect the size of this effect to increase with time. Thus, we expect that cases that are pending longer are less likely to be implemented the more powerful the respondent state (controlling for the difficulty of cases). Domestic political constraints may initially slow down implementation of judgments due to an increasing number of veto players. Yet, the dispersion of power domestically should make it less likely that an executive can persist in withstanding pressure to implement judgments. Finally, new democracies should be quick to implement non-controversial judgments in order to ‘lock-in’ their democracies, yet may lack the domestic institutions and power dispersions of stable democracies to implement the more controversial ones. The second way to test the model is by estimating explicit interaction effects between judgment and country characteristics. As illustrated by the Turkish-Cypriot property rights case, it is not always easy to objectively identify characteristics of judgments that are likely to generate highlevel political opposition and those that are not. Nevertheless, there are some objective criteria that make such opposition more likely. We focus on cases that involve article 2 or 3. These are cases involving loss of life, torture, and inhumane treatment. Such cases are almost always politically controversial, including when they are issued against stable democracies. For example, the UK government has fiercely protested ECtHR judgments that prohibit it from extraditing suspected terrorists to countries where they may be tortured and that stipulate that article 2 and 3 obligations can be applied extraterriorally, including in Iraq and Afghanistan.42 We expect though, that countries with strong domestic political constraints will implement those judgments more quickly than countries with weaker constraints.
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A Dataset of Implementation of ECtHR Judgments In an effort to conduct a comprehensive review of the European Court of Human Rights, our study begins with the court’s first judgment in 1960 and continues to December 31, 2006, giving nations time to comply with the later judgments. We look only to merits judgments where violations of the Convention were found. Cases where there were no violations require no compliance on the part of the respondent, and so are not relevant to our study. We then limit our study to lead cases. Lead cases are the first to reveal “a new structural/general problem in a respondent state and which thus require the adoption of new general measures.”43 Lead cases are often the first case the court hears on an issue, but there are exceptions. Lead cases are contrasted with follow cases, which may involve a different violation of the Convention but result from the same structural issue. For instance, Aksoy v. Turkey44, a lead case with 273 follow cases, concerns violations of the Convention by Turkish security forces for torture (article 3), excessive length of detention (article 5, paragraph 3), and the lack of an effective remedy for torture (article 13). Some of Aksoy’s 273 follow cases, however, find the security forces to be in violation of the Convention for killing (article 2), destruction of property (article 1 of protocol 1), and disrespect for one’s private and family life, home or correspondence (article 8). However, all 274 cases deal with a similar structural problem: the actions of the security forces in Turkey in the fight against terrorism in the 1990s. Follow cases in the court’s view do not require any general measures of their own and thus are not as important in our study of compliance. Inclusion of follow cases would underestimate the duration of true compliance. We also limit our study by importance. The searchable database HUDOC45 ranks judgments along three levels of importance: importance level 1 (or high importance) judgments are those “which the Court considers make a significant contribution to the development, clarification or modification of its case-law, either generally or in relation to a particular State.” Importance level 2 (or medium importance) judgments are those “which do not make a significant contribution to the case-law but nevertheless do not merely apply existing case-law,” and importance level 3 (or low importance) judgments are those “with little legal interest - those applying existing case-law, friendly settlements and striking out judgments (unless these have any particular point of interest).” For the purposes of our study, we looked primarily to importance level 1 and 2 cases, since we expect judgments involving new interpretations of the Convention to face the greatest resistance. We did, however, include importance level 3 judgments that were lead cases that had follow cases of importance level 1 or 2.46 A list of cases was created by searching for all importance level 1 or 2 judgments between January 1, 1960 and December 31, 2006 in the HUDOC database. This list was then further screened for being a lead case, as evidenced by being the first or the only case listed in a final resolution. For cases that were still pending, the Council of Europe’s State of Execution website47 provides data on which pending cases are lead cases and which are follow cases. Follow cases were deleted from the list if the lead case was already in the list, or else the lead case was added to the list (even if it was importance level 3) and then the follow cases were deleted. Thus, the only cases not in our list are follow cases of all importance levels and importance level 3 lead cases that either have no follow cases or all follow cases are also importance level 3. There are two exceptions: first, cases in which the lead case happened to be closed in a friendly settlement, such as in Faulkner v. the United Kingdom.48 In these cases, the second case in the final resolution would remain in the list, but the application number of the lead case would be recorded in addition. A second exception is a lead case whose judgment was made by the European Commission and not the European Court, such as -171-
Govell v. the United Kingdom.49 For these cases as well, we used the next European Court case but still recorded the application number and the date of Commission judgment of the lead case. With this list of 982 cases, each application number was entered into the HUDOC database, and the following information was recorded: the title of the case, the respondent nation, the date of judgment, whether the case was resolved or pending by June 8, 2011, the date of the final resolution (if resolved), the lead case’s application number (if applicable – see exception numbers 1 and 2 above), the date of the Commission’s judgment (if applicable – see exception number 2 above), the number of follow cases, the number of interim resolutions, and the article violated. In the three cases with multiple respondent nations, a separate ‘case’ was created for each country.50 The date of judgment is the date the judgment was made, and not the date the judgment became final. Cases were coded 0 for resolved or 1 for pending, and was determined by the existence of a final resolution. There is some delay in the adoption of final resolutions by the Committee of Ministers and their subsequent appearance on HUDOC, and we found cases in this limbo period in the resolutions adopted at the 1115th meeting of the Committee.51 The number of follow cases was the number of cases, not including the lead case, present in the final resolution or on the State of Execution website. The number of interim resolutions was determined from the HUDOC database. The article of the European Convention on Human Rights52 violated was found from each case’s judgment, and separate columns were created for each article violated in a case.
Descriptive Analyses Overall, 753 (77%) of the 982 judgments in our dataset were implemented by June 8, 2011. This figure is considerably higher than the 58% found by Von Staden53 for two reasons. First, the end date of our study is later, allowing more countries to implement their judgments. Second, and more importantly, our study focuses specifically on the number of structural problems (lead cases) as opposed to the number of cases. By excluding follow cases, every case in our list corresponds to a structural issue in a country. Naturally there are more follow cases on cases that have been pending for many years (as they have more time for cases to accumulate), and thus those pending structural issues are disproportionately represented when calculating compliance. For instance, of the nearly 6,000 cases Von Staden examines, over 2,000 concern one pending structural issue in Italy (see Ceteroni v. Italy54). The average duration from judgment to final resolution (or until the end date of the study, if the case is still pending) was 1608 days, with a minimum duration of 48 days and a maximum of 5318 days. The duration of ECtHR judgments varies considerably across countries and judgment type. For instance, figure 1a shows the difference in implementation time between judgments finding a violation of article 2 (right to life) or 3 (prohibition of torture) and those that do not. The y-axis presents the fraction of cases remaining (pending) and the x-axis measures the duration in days. The graph shows that judgments finding a violation of article 2 or 3 were resolved more slowly than other judgments, and more were still pending at the end of the study. These articles strike at the heart of executive control over a country, and thus are likely to be politically sensitive and face considerable resistance.55 This finding also provides support for our assumption that cases that take longer at the ECtHR are politically sensitive, which will be useful when we test our hypothesis that enforcement characteristics matter most for politically sensitive judgments. Figure 1b estimates the survival time of judgments by the depth of reform required. Those judgments that require legislative change take the longest to implement, while those that require no general measures or only publication/dissemination of the judgment take the least. In between, we find judgments requiring domestic courts to modify their case law and judgments requiring executive -172-
and administrative change. Yet, the figure also suggests that some of the issues highlighted in the theory section may be present. Many judgments that require no general measures (and thus little capacity) are resolved within 1000 days. Yet, the set of judgments that are not resolved within this time frame turn out to be extremely unlikely to be implemented quickly (i.e. the solid line flattens dramatically). Presumably, these are judgments that require little capacity but that generate political opposition (as in the Northern Cyprus property rights case). Figure 1c depicts the implementation time for countries with varying levels of bureaucratic effectiveness, as measured by the Inter-Country Risk Guide.56 It is clear that countries with low levels of bureaucratic capacity implement judgments much more slowly than countries with high capacity. Yet, as hypothesized, the lines are narrowing for judgments that are pending longer, especially between the high and low-medium groups.57 Finally, figure 1d shows Kaplan-Meier survival estimates for states with different capabilities (power), as measured by CINC scores.58 For ease of exposition, we divided states into three groups: states with high capabilities (France, Germany, Italy, Russia, Spain, Turkey, UK) medium capabilities (e.g. Netherlands, Sweden, Poland, Austria, etc.) and low capabilities (e.g. Baltic states, Moldova, etc). Initially, states with the lowest capabilities are slowest to implement. Yet, as expected by our hypothesis, their resistance does not last. By contrast, the survival curve for states with high capabilities flattens considerably for judgments that have been pending for 2000 days or more. This is consistent with our hypothesis that if states choose to resist implementation, powerful states are more likely to endure that resistance. Nevertheless, if we were to simply insert a power variable into a duration regression, the estimates may show no effect or the opposite effect as powerful states are quite fast in implementing judgments against which there is no high-level opposition.
Method and Data A. Method In order to further test our hypothesis, we ran multiple regression models that control for country-specific and judgment-specific characteristics. We use a semiparametric Cox hazard model, which explicitly models the relationship between the duration since the judgment date and the propensity for the judgment to be resolved. There are multiple judgments across countries. It is likely that there are unobserved relevant risk factors that are shared across countries. In order to model these, we estimate a Cox model with shared frailty. This can be thought of as a regression model with random effects for countries.59 The hazard rate is: (1) where is the baseline hazard function, are the values of the covariates for judgment j on country i, and is the country-level frailty, which is gamma distributed with mean 1 and variance θ. If θ=0, then the shared frailty model reduces to the standard Cox model. The equivalence with the random effects model can be illustrated by rewriting equation (1) as: where
is the equivalent to a random effect or country-specific baseline hazard (intercept).
We also estimate stratified (by country) Cox regression models with results that are identical in terms of their substantive implications. A stringent assumption underlying Cox regression models is that the ratio of hazards is constant over time across individual judgments.60 Throughout, we employ tests based on Schoenfeld residuals to assess whether this assumption is met and we report where problems exist. More generally, our hypotheses imply that the effect of covariates on the risk of -173-
resolution is not constant across time. We therefore interact the relevant covariates with the natural log of the duration of cases. B. Data All country-specific independent variables were measured at the year of the ECtHR judgment. The first enforcement characteristic is capability (power), as estimated by the Composite Index of National Capability (CINC) scores from the Correlates of War (COW) Project, Version 4.0.61 The CINC scores are computed from the following six indicators: total population, urban population, military personnel, military expenditures, primary energy consumption, and iron and steel production. We expect that as a case remains pending, countries with greater military capabilities are more likely to resist international pressure. Second, we include a measure for executive constraints, as estimated by POLCONIII. 62 POLCONIII measures “the feasibility of policy change (the extent to which a change in the preferences of any one actor may lead to a change in government policy)” by examining the number of branches of government with veto power and their party compositions. This variable ranges in value from 0 (no veto players) to 1 (highly constrained political environment). Third, in order to test Moravcsik’s (2000) hypothesis, we created a dummy variable that that indicates whether the country is a new democracy.63 We also include a dummy for whether a country is not a democracy. The reference category is stable democracies. Fourth, we measure whether a country’s compliance record is under scrutiny for EU membership. This variable (EU Conditionality) equals 1 from the year a country formally applied for EU membership and equals zero otherwise. The main managerial characteristic is the capacity of a country’s bureaucracy and judiciary. These were two separate variables, but given their high correlation they were combined into one composite variable of governance capacity. Bureaucratic capacity is measured by ICRG’s bureaucratic quality variable.64 This variable ranges from 0 to 4 and accounts for a bureaucracy’s autonomy from political pressure and whether it has an established mechanism for recruitment and training. Judicial capacity is estimated by ICRG’s Law & Order variable.65 The Law & Order variable ranges from 0 to 6 and is itself a composite of Law (the strength and impartiality of the legal system, 0 to 3) and Order (popular observance of the law, 0 to 3). We control for an extensive set of judgment specific characteristics in our analyses. Different countries attract different types of cases so our estimates on country-specific cases may be biased if we do not adequately control for the difficulty of the implementation task. We identify three sets of judgment characteristics that may matter for implementation. The first set involves features of the judgment itself. Judgments that were made by the Grand Chamber were appealed there by the respondent nation, possibly a result of domestic resistance. Judgments made unanimously are likely to be more mundane than judgments that attract dissents. Finally, judgments indicated as being of the highest important level by the court because they involve new legal issues may face greater resistance regardless of the characteristics of the respondent government. Second, some judgments require more extensive reforms than others. The extent of reform is measured by three variables. The first is the type of measure necessary to implement a judgment. Reforms fall into two broad categories: individual measures, designed to remedy the situation of the individual applicant, and general measures, designed to prevent such violations in the future. Individual measures can be expected to require less time to implement than general measures, since they necessitate one-time action by only a few people66, although they can sometimes be sensitive politically, as in the re-trial of PKK leader Öcalan.67 General measures can be divided into the following categories: legislation, jurisprudence by domestic courts, executive and/or administrative -174-
actions, practical measures such as renovating prisons or hiring judges, and publication and/or dissemination of the judgment. Judgments requiring simply publishing or disseminating the judgment should face the least resistance. General measures requiring action by bodies other than the executive (i.e., the legislature or courts) will likely take the longest, both because they require cooperation among several bodies and because they have the most far-reaching effects. In addition, the complexity of the implementation task may be larger the more articles of the Convention are violated in a judgment. Finally, judgments that attract a greater number of follow cases indicate a larger structural problem, which may be more difficult to remedy. Obviously, the number of follow cases is not always observable ex ante, although often many clone cases are treated simultaneously by the Court. Nonetheless, we also estimate models without this variable as it should be correlated with time to compliance by definition. Third, the type of violation may predict whether the judgment will be politically sensitive. The most controversial judgments may be violations of Articles 2 and 3, which deal with the right to life and the right not to be tortured, respectively. Such violations almost by definition strike at the heart of executive control over a society, and thereby are likely to elicit executive resistance.68 Likewise, judgments finding violations of article 1 of protocol 1 (right to property) almost always concern the executive power of expropriation and therefore can conceivably be expected to face resistance as well.69 A fourth sensitive article is article 13, which ensures that victims have a right to an effective remedy to violations of other Convention articles â&#x20AC;&#x153;notwithstanding that the violation has been committed by persons acting in an official capacity.â&#x20AC;? Implementation of effective remedies may be especially controversial, since they may open the door to prosecutions of state officials. Article 5 (prison rights) and Article 8 (privacy) cases are also likely to elicit sensitive political conflict. Article 10 (freedom of expression) should likewise face resistance, since these cases often concern minorities or journalists speaking out against government officials70 and presumably executives would be hesitant to implement measures that allow criticism of their policies. By contrast, article 6 (right to fair trial) cases are often demanding from a capacity perspective but generally (though not always) do not elicit high-level political controversy. Table 1 presents the summary statistics of all variables included in the analysis.
Results A. Which Judgments Are Implemented More Quickly? Before looking at country-specific characteristics, we begin with specifying a base-line model that looks only at characteristics of the judgments. Table two has the results of the Shared Frailty Cox Regression.71 We estimate models for the entire period but also for two subperiods to control for changes in the monitoring of ECtHR judgments. In 1993, the CoEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Parliamentary Assembly was charged with providing oversight for the monitoring of judgments. In 1999, the regime was further sharpened through protocol 11.72 The reference category in these models is a judgment requiring only publication or dissemination and that violates any one article of the Convention other than those included as dummy variables in the models. Hazard ratios appear in the table. In interpreting these ratios, values over 1 mean that the variable increases the likelihood of a judgment being implemented compared to the reference category, whereas values less than 1 indicate decreased hazard of implementation. We performed tests of Schoenfield residuals and included an interaction with the natural log of time for all variables for whom the assumption of proportional hazards was violated. The results in Table 2 provide moderate to high support for all three sets of judgment characteristics in their expected directions. On the features of the judgment itself, the likelihood of -175-
implementation for judgments appealed to the Grand Chamber and for importance level 1 judgments were not significantly different than other judgments. However, judgments made by a unanimous decision had a 30 percent higher hazard rate when looking at the entire period and the post-1993 subset. The extent of reform required by the respondent had a significant effect on the likelihood of being implemented. Those judgments requiring no general measures had a hazard rate that was 100 times higher than judgments that did require general measures (from the post 1993 model). Yet, this effect declines as a judgment remains pending. This is because there are some judgments (like Loizidou and Ă&#x2013;calan) that require politically sensitive individual measures, and these take longer to implement. Judgments requiring legislative change remained significantly less likely to be implemented quickly (hazard rate 29-38 per cent lower than those judgments that required a general measure but not legislative change). Similarly, the hazard rate for judgments that require changes in domestic jurisprudence decreased the chance of implementation by 21-24 per cent. Judgments requiring practical reforms or executive or administration change were not significantly different from those requiring only publication or dissemination of the judgment. The number of articles violated in a judgment also had a significant effect across all models, with each additional article decreasing the likelihood of implementation by over 90 per cent. Finally, the number of follow cases also significantly decreased the likelihood of implementation in the entire period and the post-1993 subset. The type of violation likewise has a strong significant effect on the likelihood of being implemented. Judgments finding a violation of article 2 or 3 (right to life or right not to be tortured) had a 36-40 per cent smaller hazard rate. Likewise, judgments involving article 1 of protocol 1 (right to property) were 32-44 per cent less likely to be implemented. As noted earlier, this is likely because these articles directly restrict the actions of the executive. Article 13 (the right to an effective remedy), however, was not significant. We had envisioned an effective remedy as requiring prosecution and potential jail-time for state officials, whereas that may only be appropriate for effective remedies for articles 2 or 3. Violations of other articles, however, are not as serious of crimes and may not be punishable beyond simple monetary compensation. Moreover, granting an effective remedy for the other articles does not necessarily constrain the executive. For instance, providing an effective remedy for articles 5 and 6 (right to fair trial), would likely constrain the judiciary. Thus, on average, judgments finding violations of article 13 may not take longer to implement than others. Judgments finding violations of articles 5 (prison rights), 6 (right to a fair trial) and 10 (freedom of expression), were significantly more likely to be implemented. One explanation is that these rights are already well-established across Europe. As such, there is a strong normative pull to comply, and compliance only requires simple â&#x20AC;&#x153;fine-tuningâ&#x20AC;? on the part of the respondent nation.73 B. Enforcement, Management, and Implementation Task Table 3 presents the results of the Shared Frailty Cox Regressions on both judgment and country characteristics (in the interest of space, judgment characteristics are not shown, but their results are similar to Table 2). Models 1 and 2 present the traditional additive model, while models 3 and 4 interact country characteristics with time. The democracy dummies and the political constraint variables were introduced separately to avoid problems with multicollinearity but similar results attain when they are introduced in the same model. The models include a control for the severity of human rights violations committed by countries. This variable is the combined empowerment and physical integrity rights indices from CIRI74, which are strongly correlated in this sample. The variable is included because countries with -176-
worse records may simply commit violations that are more difficult to remedy (in ways that are not captured by our observed judgment characteristics). Models 1 and 2 presents the traditional additive model without time interactions for the country characteristics. In this model, new democracies and countries with better human rights records implement judgments more quickly. There is no significant effect of bureaucratic capacity or domestic political constraints. As we will see, such a model hides much of substantive interest and yields misleading estimates. Models 3 and 4 add time interactions and show findings that are considerably different. The findings strongly support our contention with regard to capacity: countries with effective bureaucracies and judiciaries initially implement ECtHR judgments much more quickly than do countries with poor capacity. Yet, this effect declines sharply the longer a judgment is pending. That is: among judgments that are pending longer, those that pertain to a country with highly effective bureaucratic and judicial capacity are not resolved more quickly. Also consistent with our theory, greater domestic constraints on the executive initially slow down implementation, as there are multiple veto points that need to be overcome. Yet, a more constrained executive also implies multiple access points and dispersed power. This makes it more difficult for executives to resist continued pressures for compliance. Consistent with this idea, the longer a judgment is pending, the more likely countries with higher constraints on executives become to implement judgments. To put it differently, among judgments that are pending longer, those that pertain to a country with highly constrained executives are more likely to be implemented. Neither domestic political constraints nor bureaucratic capacity were significant in model 1, which did not include time interactions. Figure 2A illustrates how hazard ratios changes over time. After a little over 1,000 days, the hazard ratio for both variables is estimated to be around 1, meaning that there is no difference between countries with higher and lower constraints (or capacity). When a judgment is pending longer, a country with higher domestic constraints becomes much more likely to implement it. By contrast, bureaucratic effectiveness does not positively affect the implementation of judgments that have already been pending for 1,000 days or more. (The average number of days a decision is pending in the data is 1600, so this applies to a large number of judgments). We find a similar effect in the model that includes the democracy dummies. New democracies are significantly more likely to implement judgments but this effect subsides as a judgment remains pending longer. Figure 2B shows the hazard ratio between new and stable democracies. It drops below one only after a judgment has been pending for almost 2,000 days. Nevertheless, for judgments that are longer lasting, stable democracies are predicted to be more likely to implement judgments than are new democracies (i.e. hazard ratio is below one). This is consistent with our hypothesis that leaders in new democracies have incentives to implement judgments quickly but that new democracies lack the institutional mechanisms (compared to stable democracies) to force leaders to implement those judgments that they have strong desires not to implement. The table also provides weak evidence that non-democracies are more likely to implement initially than are stable democracies, although this declines rapidly as judgments are pending longer and it is only significant at the 10 percent level. The coefficients on capabilities are not significant although the signs are as expected by the theory: judgments that are pending longer are less likely to be implemented the stronger the state. In some other model specifications, these coefficients are significant but they are not robust. Moreover, there is no evidence in any of the models that EU conditionality exerts a significant influence on implementation. In all, then, our findings on international pressures for compliance are weak. By contrast, the findings on domestic institutional constraints, democracy, and bureaucratic capacity are -177-
significant in all models that we estimated, including models on part of the period under analysis (as in table 2). An alternative way of testing the implications of our theory is to conduct more specific tests of the hypotheses by interacting country characteristics not with time but with specific features that make judgments more or less likely to generate political opposition. We focus our attention to judgments on issues of torture or inhumane treatment (article 2 or 3 cases). These cases are almost inevitably politically sensitive. Moreover, they directly target executive authority: it is executives who are constrained by judgments that suspected terrorists cannot be extradited to countries where they may be tortured or that certain interrogation techniques constitute inhumane treatment. We estimated the same models as in table 3 but now including interactions between the article 2 or 3 dummy and the country-specific variables. The only consistently significant result is that countries that have stronger constraints on executives are much more likely to implement article 2 or 3 judgments than countries without such constraints. For countries in the upper quartile of political constraints, article 2 or 3 judgments were not significantly more or less likely to be implemented than were judgments on other articles. Yet, for countries in the lowest quartile, the hazard ratio was about 4 times lower for article 2 or 3 cases than on other cases.75 We did not find the same finding for interactions with the democracy dummies. Other interactions were not significant although there was some evidence that more powerful states were more likely to resist implementation of article 2 or 3 cases.76 These results suggest that having strong domestic political constraints is one of the most important difference makers on politically sensitive judgments.
Conclusion Why do some countries implement some ECtHR judgments more quickly than others? Answering this question is not just of practical relevance but can also shed light on important debates in the theoretical literature on what drives compliance with international legal obligations. We concur with the recent literature that managerial and enforcement concerns should be combined but we argue that this should not be done by simply adding managerialist and enforcement variables together in a regression model. The variables suggested by managerial theorists matter for different types of judgments than the variables suggested by the enforcement approach. Our results strongly support this idea. The importance of bureaucratic capacity decreases strongly and significantly the longer a case remains pending and the greater the political opposition. By contrast, domestic political constraints initially slow down the implementation of judgments. Yet, as judgments are pending longer, executives with high legislative and judicial constraints are less able to resist pressures to comply than those with fewer constraints. In addition, while new democracies implement some cases more quickly, the problem cases that last longer are less likely to be resolved when they concern a new democracy or a non-democracy than when they involve a stable democracy. Returning to our examples, we are fairly confident that the UK will eventually comply with the controversial prisoner rights judgment but we are less certain that Turkey will do the same regarding the Cyprus issue, even though Turkeyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s overall implementation record is similar to that of the UK. One temptation would be to conclude that these results imply that managerial factors matter for cases that are relatively easy, whereas enforcement variables only kick in for the cases that create political difficulties. While there is some truth to this argument, it should not be confused with the case that managerial factors are therefore unimportant for human rights observance. Many judgments that do not create high-level political opposition nonetheless have major implications for -178-
the realizations of individual rights. Many cases involving the right to a free and fair trial illustrate this point. It does, however, appear that enforcement variables are better able to explain why ECtHR judgments sometimes lead political leaders to do things they would have preferred to avoid. This is not a surprise. Enforcement theories are designed to explain this puzzle whereas managerial theories presume that political resistance is not a major problem. Yet, we should remember that ECtHR findings of violations most of the time go against the preferred outcomes of governments. These are lengthy processes where governments have ample opportunity to settle or concede before the case reaches the judgment stage. That many judgments are nonetheless implemented rapidly and without protest suggests that there is at least a modest presumption to comply. This presumption is not strong enough to prevent non-compliance by political leaders that have clear political incentives and capabilities to resist implementation but also not so insignificant that it should be dismissed out of hand. 1
Laurence R. Helfer and Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘Toward a Theory of Effective Supranational Adjudication’, The Yale Law Review 107 (1997), 273-391, p. 294. 2 Eric A.Posner and John C. Yoo, ‘Judicial Independence in International Tribunals’, California Law Review 93 (2005), 1-74, p. 55. For more reviews of the ECtHR, see Rolv Ryssdal, ‘The Enforcement System set up under the European Convention on Human Rights’, in Mielle K. Bulterman & Martin Kuijer, eds, Compliance with Judgments of International Courts (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1996), pp. 49-70; and Colin Warbrick, ‘Expansion of Rights Protected by the European Convention on Human Rights’, in W. E. Butler, ed, Control over Compliance with International Law (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1991), pp. 139-52. 3 Andreas Von Staden, ‘Shaping Human Rights Policy in Liberal Democracies: Assessing and Explaining Compliance with the Judgments of the European Court of Human Rights’, Dissertation, Princeton University, (2009), 1-423, p. 133. 4 Courtney Hillebrecht, ‘From Paper Tigers to Engines of Change: The Effect of Regional Human Rights Courts on Domestic Practice and Politics’, Dissertation, University of Wisconsin, Madison (2010), 1-258, p. 85. 5 Supervision of the Execution of Judgments of the European Court of Human Rights, 4th annual report, p. 49. 6 Ibid, p. 57. A final resolution is adopted by the Committee of Ministers when it is satisfied that a government has implemented an ECtHR judgment. 7 Ibid, p. 11. 8 The supervisors of the execution of ECtHR judgments typically group together duplicate cases under one “leading case.” Our focus on leading cases thus avoids duplication. More detail is in the data section. 9 The 27 EU members and Albania, Andorra, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Georgia, Iceland, Liechtenstein, Moldova, Monaco, Norway, Russia, San Marino, Serbia and Montenegro, Switzerland, the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, Turkey, and Ukraine. 10 There are also some inter-state cases but these are relatively rare. 11 As of June 30, 2011, there were 152,800 applications pending before a judicial formation. See http://www.echr.coe.int/NR/rdonlyres/7B68F865-2B15-4DFC-85E5DEDD8C160AC1/0/Statistics_2011.pdf 12 Robert Blackburn and Jörg Polakiewicz, eds, Fundamental Rights in Europe: The European Convention on Human Rights and its Member States, 1950–2000 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Helen Keller and Alec Stone Sweet, A Europe of Rights: The Impact of the ECHR on National Legal Systems (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). 13 These labels were first established in the debate between Abram Chayes and Antonia Handler Chayes, The New Sovereignty: Compliance with International Regulatory Agreements (Cambridge: Harvard University -179-
Press, 1995), p. 3; and George W. Downs, David M. Rocke, and Peter M. Barsoom, ‘Is the good news about compliance good news about cooperation?’, International Organization 50 (1996), 379-406, p. 379. 14 The only coercive tool is to eliminate a country’s CoE membership, which has never been used as a credible threat (e.g., Hillebrecht, ‘From Paper Tigers to Engines of Change’, p. 15.). 15 Beth Simmons, ‘International Law and State Behavior: Commitment and Compliance in International Monetary Affairs’, American Political Science Review 94 (2000), 819-35, p. 819; Michael Tomz, Reputation and International Cooperation: Sovereign Debt across Three Centuries, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007); Andrew T. Guzman, ‘Reputation and International Law’, Georgia Journal of International and Comparative Law 34 (2005), 379-91, p. 383. For a general reputation-based theory of international law, see Guzman, How International Law Works: A Rational Choice Theory (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008). 16 On the economic benefits of joining the European Union, see Christopher J. Anderson and M. Shawn Reichert, ‘Economic Benefits and Support for Membership in the E.U.: A Cross-National Analysis’, Journal of Public Policy 15 (1995), 231-249, p. 233. 17 Judith Kelley, ‘International Actors on the Domestic Scene: Membership Conditionality and Socialization by International Institutions’, International Organization 58 (2004), 425-57, p. 426; Author; 18 Simmons, Mobilizing for Human Rights: International Law in Domestic Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); Xinyuan Dai, ‘Why Comply? The Domestic Constituency Mechanism’, International Organization 59 (2005), 363-398. 19 Hillebrecht, ‘From Paper Tigers to Engines of Change’, p. 41. 20 Tanja A. Börzel, Tobias Hofmann and Diana Panke, ‘Caving in or Sitting it Out? Longitudinal Patterns of Non-Compliance in the European Union’, Journal of European Public Policy, 19 (2012), 1-28, pp. 10, 13; Heather A. D. Mbaye, ‘Why National States Comply with Supranational Law: Explaining Implementation Infringements in the European Union, 1972-1993’, European Union Politics 2 (2001), 259-81, p. 263; and Markus Haverland, ‘National Adaptation to European Integration: The Importance of Institutional Veto Points’, Journal of Public Policy 20 (2000), 83-103, p. 85. 21 Andrew Moravcsik, ‘The Origins of International Human Rights Regimes: Democratic Delegation in Postwar Europe’, International Organization 54 (2000), 217-52, p. 220 22 Chayes and Chayes, The New Sovereignty. See also Chayes and Chayes, ‘On Compliance’, International Organization 47 (1993), 175-205, p. 178. 23 Chayes and Chayes, ‘On Compliance’, p. 188. 24 Louis Henkin, How Nations Behave, 2nd edition (New York: Columbia University Press, [1968] 1979); Thomas M. Franck, ‘Legitimacy in the International System’, American Journal of International Law 82 (1988), 705-59, p. 706. 25 Chayes and Chayes, ‘On Compliance’, p. 193. 26 Loizidou v. Turkey, no. 15318/89, ECHR 1996-VI. After a judgment on the merits in 1996, the ECtHR determined the amount of compensation in 1998. Compensation was finally paid in 2003 after four interim resolutions were issued. The case is still pending today, as Turkey refuses to return the property itself to Loizidou. 27 Von Staden (2009), ‘Shaping Human Rights Policy in Liberal Democracies’, p. 68, Hillebrecht, ‘From Paper Tigers to Engines of Change’, p. 6. 28 Tomz, Reputation and International Cooperation. 29 See Jonas Tallberg, ‘Paths to Compliance: Enforcement, Management, and the European Union’, International Organization 56 (2002), 609-43, p. 610. 30 Elisabeth Lambert-Abdelgawad, The Execution of Judgments of the European Court of Human Rights (Strasbourg, Council of Europe, 2002). 31 See Hirst v. the United Kingdom (No. 2) [GC], no. 74025/01, ECHR 2005-IX
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Thomas Hammarberg, ‘Prisoner voting: Convicts are human beings, with human rights’, The Guardian, February 4, 2011, Accessed December 27, 2011 at <http://www.guardian.co.uk/law/2011/feb/04/prisonervoting-convicts-human-beings>. 33 For instance, see CM interim resolution CM/ResDH(2009)42 (Mar. 19, 2009) (“Execution of the judgments of the European Court of Human Rights concerning the excessive length of judicial proceedings in Italy”), encouraging Italy to implement “awareness-raising activities among judges” and strongly encouraging Italy to “consider amending Act No. 89/2001 (the Pinto Law) with a view to setting up a financial system resolving the problems of delay in the payment of compensation awarded, to simplify the procedure and to extend the scope of the remedy to include injunctions to expedite proceedings.” 34 See, e.g., Tallberg, ‘Paths to Compliance: Enforcement, Management, and the European Union’. 35 Jon Hovi and Stine Aakre, ‘Emission trading: Participation enforcement determines the need for compliance enforcement’, European Union Politics 11 (2010), 427-45, p. 430. 36 Von Staden, ‘Shaping Human Rights Policy in Liberal Democracies’, p. 54 37 Derek Beach, ‘Why governments comply: an integrative compliance model that bridges the gap between instrumental and normative models of compliance’, Journal of European Public Policy 12 (2005), 113-42, pp. 124-126. 38 See, e.g., Richard Perkins and Eric Neumayer, ‘Implementing multilateral environmental agreements: an analysis of EU directives’, Global Environmental Politics 7 (2007), 13-41; Katerina Linos, ‘How Can International Organizations Shape National Welfare States?: Evidence From Compliance With European Union Directives’, Comparative Political Studies 40 (2007), 547-570. 39 Anonymous, ‘MPs Reject Prisoner Votes Plan’, BBC News, February 10, 2011, accessed December 27, 2011 at <http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-12409426>. 40 Salomonsson v. Sweden, no. 38978/97, ECHR 2002. 41 For evidence for this proposition in the EU case, see: Börzel et al., ‘Caving in or Sitting it Out?’, pp. 7-9, 12-13; Mbaye, ‘Why National States Comply with Supranational Law’, pp. 274-275. 42 E.g. Al-Skeini and Others v. the United Kingdom, no. 55721/07, ECHR 2011. 43 Supervision of the Execution of Judgments of the European Court of Human Rights, 4th annual report, p. 29. 44 Aksoy v. Turkey, no. 21987/93, ECHR 1996-VI 45 http://cmiskp.echr.coe.int/tkp197/search.asp?skin=hudoc-en 46 There were 37 such cases. See, for instance, A.A.U. v. France, no. 44451/98, ECHR 2004. 47 http://www.coe.int/t/dghl/monitoring/execution/Reports/pendingCases_en.asp. There were 123 judgments of importance level 1 or 2 that had violations of the Convention but did not have any interim or final resolutions nor were found on the State of Execution website. We are thus uncertain of whether these cases are lead or follow, and these cases were excluded from statistical analysis. 48 Faulkner v. the United Kingdom, no. 30308/96, ECHR 1999 49 Govell v. the United Kingdom, no. 27237/95, ECHR 1998 50 The three were: Ilascu and Others v. Moldova and Russia, no. 48787/99, ECHR 2004-VII; Monory v. Romania and Hungary, no. 71099/01, ECHR 2005; and Shameyev and Others v. Georgia and Russia, no. 36378/02, ECHR 2005-III. 51
https://wcd.coe.int/wcd/ViewDoc.jsp?id=1799109&Site=DG4&BackColorInternet=B9BDEE&BackColor Intranet=FFCD4F&BackColorLogged=FFC679 52 http://www.echr.coe.int/NR/rdonlyres/D5CC24A7-DC13-4318-B4575C9014916D7A/0/ENG_CONV.pdf 53 Von Staden, ‘Shaping Human Rights Policy in Liberal Democracies’, p. 133. 54 Ceteroni v. Italy, no. 22461/93, ECHR 1996-V 55 Author. -181-
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Llewellyn D. Howell, ‘ICRG Methodology’, 2011, accessed December 27, 2011 at http://www.prsgroup.com/ICRG_Methodology.aspx 57 Note that only about 10 per cent of judgments are against countries from the “low” group. 58 Composite Index of National Capability (CINC) scores are obtained from the Correlates of War (COW) Project, Version 4.0. The CINC scores are computed from the following six indicators: total population, urban population, military personnel, military expenditures, primary energy consumption, and iron and steel production. See J. David Singer, ‘Reconstructing the Correlates of War Dataset on Material Capabilities of States, 1816-1985’, International Interactions 14 (1987), 115-32. 59 Mario Alberto Cleves, William Gould, and Roberto Gutierrez, An introduction to survival analysis using Stata (College Station, TX: Stata Press, 2008), 1-372. 60 See, e.g., Janet M. Box-Steffensmeier and Christopher J. W. Zorn, ‘Duration Models and Proportional Hazards in Political Science’, American Journal of Political Science 45 (2001): 972-988. 61 Singer, ‘Reconstructing the Correlates of War Dataset on Material Capabilities of States’. 62 Witold Jerzy Henisz, ‘The Institutional Environment for Infrastructure Investment’, Industrial and Corporate Change 11 (2002), 355-89, p. 363. 63 Following Moravcsik, we created a dummy variable for judgments made within 30 years after reaching a score of 6 on the polity measure, if the country remained at that level or higher thereafter. The polity variable is from the Polity IV dataset (see Monty G. Marshall, Keith Jaggers, and Ted Robert Gurr, ‘The Polity IV Project: Political Regime Characteristics and Transitions, 1800-2010’, (2011), accessed December 27, 2011 at <http://www.systemicpeace.org/polity/polity4.htm>). 64 Howell, ‘ICRG Methodology’. 65 Ibid. 66 General measures also entail greater political costs. See Hillebrecht, ‘From Paper Tigers to Engines of Change’, p. 3: General measures often “exact high policy-making costs, forcing changes in policy and practice and removing a set of policy tools from the government's toolbox.” 67 See CM Interim Resolution CM/ResDH(2007)1 (May 12, 2007) (“Execution of the judgment of the European Court of Human Rights: Öcalan against Turkey”). 68 Author. 69 Violations of article 1 of protocol 1 often result from refusal to pay compensation for expropriation, inadequate compensation, or expropriation that was not in the public interest. See, e.g., Belvedere Alberghiera S.R.L. v. Italy, no. 31524/96, ECHR 2000-VI; Malama v. Greece, no. 43622/98, ECHR 2001-II; and Zwierzynski v. Poland, no. 34049/96, ECHR 2001-VI. 70 See, e.g., Incal v. Turkey [GC], no. 22678/93, 1998-IV; Dalban v. Romania [GC], no. 28114/95, ECHR 1999-VI; The Sunday Times v. the United Kingdom, no. 13166/87, ECHR 1991-A217; De Haes and Gijsels v. Belgium, no. 19983/92, ECHR 1997-I; Castells v. Spain, no. 11798/85, ECHR 1992-A236. 71 We ran the Shared Frailty model because in all models the hypothesis that θ=0 was rejected at p=0.000. 72 Protocol 11 brought about major institutional reform, opening up the ECtHR to direct access by individuals, ending the screening of cases by the European Commission on Human Rights, and making the court permanent. 73 Keller and Stone Sweet, A Europe of Rights, pp. 699-700. 74 David L. Cingranelli and David L. Richards, ‘The Cingranelli-Richards (CIRI) Human Rights Dataset’, (2010), accessed December 27, 2011 at <http://ciri.binghamton.edu/> 75 The estimated hazard ratio for article 2 or 3 judgments was .185 (z=-2.37) the estimated hazard ratio for the interaction was 16.78 (z=1.86). The statements in the text are derived using STATA’s margins command after estimation of the stcox model. Models were estimated using all interaction and only an interaction with constraints. -182-
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This result was not significant in all specifications.
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Beneath the Grand Bargain: What Drives States’ Attitudes Towards the NPT?1 Anton Strezhnev, Georgetown University Introduction In his 2009 address to the United Nations General Assembly, U.S. President Barack Obama declared that the international community’s ability to prevent a massive cascade of global nuclear proliferation rests upon the ``basic bargain that shapes the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty,” the obligation of states with nuclear weapons to pursue disarmament and the responsibility of states without these weapons to refrain from acquiring them. Departing from the rhetoric of his predecessor, President Obama asserted that ``America intends to keep [its] end of the bargain” in order to strengthen the flagging NPT, framing U.S. concessions on disarmament as necessary to bolstering further co-operation on non-proliferation (Obama, 2009a). This focus on the disarmament pillar of the NPT marked a significant shift away from the policy of the Bush administration, which tended to prioritize non-proliferation issues (Joyner, 2011). For many arms control scholars, this perceived rebalancing of U.S. policy towards the NPT was a welcome change. Joseph Cirincione, for example, argued that ``Nuclear disarmament and preventing proliferation are two sides of the same nuclear security coin. Nuclear disarmament builds the global cooperation needed to prevent new nuclear states and nuclear terrorism; preventing proliferation creates the security needed to continue disarmament” (2009). Insofar as the United States was perceived as ignoring its disarmament obligations, states had less incentive to co-operate on stopping proliferation. However, despite the popularity of this argument within the arms control community2, there has been little research testing the extent to which the credibility of the NPT bargain shapes states’ attitudes toward the non-proliferation regime. While the correlates of proliferation have been studied in-depth3, the correlates of states’ attitudes regarding non-proliferation remain underexamined in any systematic fashion. Indeed, although many states refrain from proliferating, their perceptions of expanded restrictions on proliferation may differ substantially (Grotto, 2009). Likewise, the true effect of U.S. rhetoric is unclear. Although some non-nuclear states have explicitly linked progress on disarmament to their willingness to accept new NPT obligations (for example, Egypt in its statement to the 2005 Non-Proliferation Treaty Review Conference), whether this rhetoric is sincere is unknown. Such a statement may be merely a signal to domestic audiences rather than an actual commitment. As Potter (2005) noted, the rationale for Egypt’s rhetorical linkage at the Review Conference may have had more to do with the fact that playing ``a spoiler’s role” was a popular move among the Egyptian public (27). Moreover, even if such linkages are sincere, the United States simply may not be able to do enough to mollify some of the more highly critical states. Ogilvie-White and Santoro (2011) argue that, although the nuclear-weapons states may see each step toward disarmament as a success deserving of reciprocation, non-nuclear states consider such moves to be insufficient. In fact, some non-nuclear states may indeed believe that ``nuclear-weapon states are not serious about disarmament and that they are limiting themselves to baby steps purely to -184-
justify imposing stronger non-proliferation and nuclear-security obligations on them” (105). Conversely, nuclear weapons states are constrained in their ability to pursue anything beyond incremental disarmament measures ``by the threat perceptions of the United States and its allies and by their continuing belief in nuclear deterrence” (102). Although the NPT bargain might be a useful rhetorical device, its relevance to actual preferences may be overshadowed by broader security concerns. This paper attempts to answer the puzzle of what precisely drives state attitudes toward the non-proliferation regime by analyzing the revealed preferences of states at the NPT Review Conferences (RevCon) and Preparatory Committee (PrepCom) meetings. To do this, I adopt a novel method of eliciting a country’s priorities from its statements at these regular meetings. Recent developments in automated content analysis make it possible for political scientists to systematically analyze large collections of texts that would normally require an inordinate amount of resources to examine manually (Monroe and Schrodt, 2008). Semi- or fully-automated content analysis methods have already been employed to extract data on opinions and sentiments from sources as diverse as U.S. Senate press releases (Grimmer, 2010), Congressional floor debates (Quinn et. al., 2010), British and Irish party manifestos (Laver et. al., 2003), and public statements by Russian political leaders (Stewart and Zhukov, 2009) along with less structured, non-governmental sources such as newspapers (Gentzkow and Shapiro, 2010) and even blogs (Hopkins and King, 2010). I utilize a statistical model known as the correlated topic model (CTM) (Blei et. al., 2006) to determine the topical structure of speech texts. The method exploits the underlying structure of a speech text in order to obtain a quantitative measure of the relative attention allocated by states to each of the three ``pillars” of the treaty: disarmament, non-proliferation and the peaceful use of nuclear energy. The advantage of CTM stems from the fact that, unlike other content analysis methods, it does not require manual coding or prior knowledge of the structure of content. The CTM models the words of each speech document as originating from a variable mixture of ``topics” common to all documents. Estimating the model parameters gives the relative emphasis a given speech places on each of the topics which serves as a proxy for the ``attention” variable. Applying content analysis to statements within international fora as a means of measuring policy positions provides a new avenue for further research into international organizations. The alignments of states have long been of interest to international relations scholars. Previous studies of state preferences have focused on United Nations General Assembly voting since the roll call data ``provide[s] a unique set of data where many national governments commit themselves simultaneously and publicly on a wide variety of major issues” (Russett, 1966).4 However, many international institutions do not provide such an easily quantifiable measure of states’ revealed preferences because they operate through consensus rather than majoritarian voting. Even within institutions that use voting procedures, much of the important bargaining occurs before a vote is even taken. For example, although the International Monetary Fund has an established voting structure for decision-making, such votes rarely occur. Instead, the Executive Board tends to take action on the basis of the ``sense of the meeting” (Vreeland, 2004). In such institutions, beneath the formal veneer of consensus, politics nevertheless remain salient as divergent preferences are hammered into compromise positions. Steinberg (2002), for example, finds that the consensus-based decision-making of the GATT/WTO trade liberalization framework is dominated by the economically powerful states. These states obtain advantages from promoting asymmetrical outcomes while retaining the image of legitimacy that a unanimous decision confers. Agenda-setting countries make an active effort to elicit the preferences of other states as a detailed understanding of the balance of interest among weaker powers allows them to craft proposals that can gain universal acceptance. Consensus-based institutions therefore make it more difficult to analyze revealed preferences of actors by informalizing the process through which states express their attitudes -185-
toward particular issues. Instead of easily quantifiable and meaningful votes, one only observes diplomatic statements. In such less formal institutions, systematically analyzing the structure of these statements can potentially help to answer a number of puzzles regarding patterns of cooperation and conflict among states. Such questions could possibly include: whether tensions among ASEAN states lessened or grown over time, whether the rise of regional powers has significantly affected the agenda of the G-20, and whether certain states have more influence over the content of WTO Ministerial Conference declarations. In the context of the NPT, public statements are a valuable means of inferring a state’s policy positions. Joyner (2011) argues that declarations made at the RevCons and PrepComs provide ``solid source material for analysis and evaluation of trends in states’ policies toward the NPT...as they are single subject documents and are given on a recurring basis by the same governments” (35). However, there is a crucial drawback to examining the content of statements on-face. There is no guarantee that the content itself is genuine. States do not have an overriding interest in being sincere as opposed to strategic in their public declarations (Goldsmith and Posner, 2002). As suggested previously, the fact that a non-nuclear state rhetorically links its support for additional NPT restrictions to more progress on disarmament does not guarantee that it will actually change its position if nuclear-weapons states pursue further arms reductions. Merely examining whether states refer to the NPT bargain does little to answer the question of whether the bargain’s legitimacy truly matters. Analyzing the underlying composition of statements as opposed to their explicit content via automated content analysis helps to resolve this problem. The CTM model returns no information about the specific intent of a statement, but rather merely the proportions of the total speech that deal with each of the three pillars. Given that differences within the NPT revolve around the relative importance of certain topics, the true value of statements is not necessarily in what they say about states’ intentions, but rather in what they suggest about states’ attention. A state that generally values non-proliferation over the other two pillars will allocate more of its statement’s content to nonproliferation issues at the expense of disarmament and peaceful use. The fact that a speech is finite suggests that attention is scarce and zero-sum - a state that chooses to talk about non-proliferation is necessarily giving up discussing disarmament instead. Anecdotal evidence suggests that these assumptions are quite plausible. States that de-prioritize issues simply do not discuss them. Grotto (2008) notes that the heavy emphasis placed by the United States on non-proliferation concerns at the 2005 Review Conference meant that it entirely overlooked the crucial disarmament decisions hammered out at the 1995 and 2000 NPT when it briefly touched on its disarmament record. Likewise, while U.S. statements at the 2010 RevCon overlooked Israel and targeted Iran, those of the Non-Aligned Movement did the opposite, singling out Israel’s non-membership while failing to even mention Iran by name (Miller, 2010). Although rhetoric itself may not be connected in any meaningful way to sincere action, the statements made by actors are nevertheless highly structured and provide meaningful data. Prior applications of topic models in political science literature confirm this. Laver et. al. (2003) argue that ``[p]olitical texts are the concrete by-product of strategic political activity and have a widely recognized potential to reveal important information about the policy positions of their authors.” While scholars should be careful about directly transferring methods applied to domestic politics to analyze phenomena at the international level5, previous quantitative studies of international organizations suggest that state preferences can be effectively operationalized by using public declarations made at intergovernmental conferences (KoenigArchibugi, 2004; Friedheim, 1993). This paper is divided into five sections. Section 1 briefly summarizes the recent history of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and the evolution of U.S. policy towards the NPT since the 2000 Review Conference. Section 2 introduces three sets of hypotheses to explain why there are -186-
differences among states in the amount of attention that they allocate to the three pillars. The central question is whether the perceived legitimacy of the NPT is as important as some arms control advocates suggest. Are state attitudes toward non-proliferation to some extent influenced by U.S. policy or are security and/or domestic concerns the primary determinant of how central nonproliferation is to a given state’s agenda? Section 3 provides an explanation of the assumptions behind the Correlated Topic Model and how the model is estimated on the document corpus. Section 4 gives the output of the CTM model and the results of a series of regressions of the estimated topic proportions on the variables outlined in Section 2. Finally, Section 5 summarizes and comments on the findings and outlines further avenues for potential research.
1. The NPT Bargain The history of the Non-Proliferation Treaty reveals an institution based on a fragile consensus, a “bargain” between nuclear and non-nuclear weapons states, that covers a deep dissensus about the role of the treaty and the relative importance of the obligations that it imposes on member states. Opened for signature in 1968, the NPT entered into force in 1970 and boasts near-universal membership.6 At its core, the treaty is a quid-pro-quo arrangement between the five “official” nuclear-weapons states, the United States, France, the United Kingdom, Russia and China, and the non-nuclear countries. Essentially, non-nuclear weapons states commit to refrain from pursuing a nuclear arsenal in exchange for technical assistance to develop peaceful nuclear energy programs and the promise by nuclear-weapons states that they will pursue negotiations to reduce their arsenals. Articles I, II and III codify the non-proliferation pillar, forbidding NNWS from attempting to acquire or manufacture nuclear weapons and NWS from transferring nuclear weapons technology or assistance to NNWS along with committing all NNWS to International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) safeguards on their nuclear energy programs. Articles IV and V constitute the peaceful use portion of the treaty and grant all parties the “inalienable right...to develop research, production and use of nuclear energy for peaceful purposes without discrimination.” Finally, Article VI outlines the disarmament obligations of NWS parties, committing these states “to pursue negotiations in good faith on effective measures relating to cessation of the nuclear arms race at an early date and to nuclear disarmament” (Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, 1968). The substantive meaning of the NPT’s three-pillar structure has, since the treaty’s inception, been a primary point of contention among the states party to the agreement. Initial drafts of the treaty as proposed by the United States and the Soviet Union focused exclusively on nonproliferation (this explains why the title of the treaty makes no mention of the other two pillars). It was only as a result of pressure by the NNWS that the Article VI obligation came to be included in the final draft (Joyner, 2011, 17-18). These tensions have persisted through the post-Cold War era. Although the text of the treaty as ratified places equal emphasis on each of the three pillars, over the past two decades, nuclear-weapons states (and in particular the United States) have over-emphasized the treaty’s non-proliferation obligations at the expense of the peaceful use and disarmament pillars (Joyner, 2011, 2). Conversely, as non-nuclear states have become increasingly frustrated with the under-prioritization of the NWS obligations, they have become less willing to focus on their end of the bargain - non-proliferation (Kimball, 2005). The tension between these two opposing perspectives on the treaty has jeopardized the search for consensus among all states. Although the NPT parties agreed to indefinitely extend the treaty in 1995 and followed that extension with a successful 2000 Review Conference that agreed on a consensus final document with a “comprehensive and substantive text that reviewed the treaty’s operation and set future goals" -187-
(Grotto, 2008), this turn-of-the-century optimism quickly deteriorated. The most prominent symbol of the post-2000 dissensus within the NPT was the failure of the 2005 Review Conference to adopt a consensus final declaration, an event described as “the biggest failure in the history of [the] Treaty” (Müller, 2005). As Grotto (2008) notes, many non-nuclear countries, in particular those who were members of the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), wanted “to focus laser-like on the disarmament records of the NWS,” while nuclear-weapons states chose to emphasize non-proliferation concerns instead. The outcome was a significant blow to the perceived credibility of the NPT. The disappointing outcome of the 2005 Review Conference and the increasing proliferation pressures stemming from states like Iran and North Korea led many to call into question the future effectiveness of the NPT. At the time, prospects for the 2010 Review Conference appeared bleak (Dhanapala, 2010). However, in 2009, then-recently-elected U.S. President Barack Obama declared in a speech in Prague that the United States “will take concrete steps towards a world without nuclear weapons,” a statement that marked a clear departure from his predecessor’s nuclear policy (Obama, 2009b). Although President Obama’s speech received more praise from the public and civil society than it did from other governments, it signaled a change in the United States’ attitude toward the NPT in a way that re-emphasized disarmament (Dhanapala 2010). Joyner (2011) notes that the U.S. delegation’s statement to the 2009 NPT Preparatory Committee was significantly “more balanced” than U.S. statements during the previous decade. This new re-balancing would frame the United States’ position at the 2010 NPT Review Conference, the success of which (or at the very least, the non-failure) was considered to be essential if the NPT regime was to recover from its 2005 near-collapse (Choubey, 2009) Ultimately, the Obama administration achieved its primary goal and the 2010 Review Conference concluded with the adoption of a Final Document, averting another catastrophic failure (Miller, 2010). Nevertheless, the attainment of consensus at the 2010 RevCon was a “modest achievement” (Traub, 2010). Beneath the final document remains what Miller (2010) terms a “deeply fractured regime.” He notes that although Obama was successful in the broad sense of preventing further exacerbation of tensions within the NPT, severe frictions remain. One notable example of this persistent disagreement was a Working Paper submitted by the NAM at the 2010 Review Conference. The paper called for a concrete timeframe for nuclear disarmament and directly criticized the failure of the nuclear-weapons states to fulfill their Article VI obligations while resisting many of the non-proliferation safeguards favored by the U.S. The paper was so at odds with the NWS agenda that “portions...read like a systematic refutation and rejection of measures sought or preferred by the United States.” (Miller, 2010, 24) Despite the offical declaration of consensus, there still appears to be no concrete agreement among states with on how to prioritize the three pillars. The United States’ pursuit of disarmament under President Obama also appears to have its limits. Despite concrete successes like the New START treaty and the 2010 Nuclear Posture Review’s reduced emphasis on nuclear weapons, the disarmament agenda has failed to advance much further (Ogilvie-White and Santoro, 2011).
2. Explaining State Attitudes In order to answer the question of whether President Obama’s overtures on disarmament were successful, one must identify the factors that make a state more or less likely to favor nonproliferation, disarmament or peaceful use. Prior literature on this topic is rather sparse and the vast majority of it deals with a state’s propensity to acquire nuclear weapons as opposed to a state’s overall position towards the non-proliferation regime. Nevertheless, Grotto (2009) provides three frameworks for understanding “non-proliferation decision-making” (3). The first suggests that states -188-
consider the overall legitimacy of the NPT when making decisions about what pillars they wish to emphasize. This “normative” hypothesis implies that the perceived fairness of the bargain affects the extent to which non-nuclear states will be willing to focus on non-proliferation issues. The second framework focuses on the role of security factors. For this hypothesis, non-proliferation issues will primarily be the bailiwick of the nuclear powers and their allies. Conversely, states that exist outside of or in direct opposition to the dominant security architecture will feel more threatened by status quo arsenals than by new ones and prioritize disarmament issues. Finally, the third suggests that state attitudes are a result of domestic political factors. Grotto (2009), citing Solingen (1994), suggests that trade may be one important factor. Leaders that pursue integration with the global economy will be more likely to try to preserve the global status quo and prioritize non-proliferation than leaders that are more inward-looking. Democratic peace theory also suggests that regime type may also have an effect on a state’s non-proliferation policy. Note that these hypotheses are not necessarily mutually exclusive. As Sagan (1996) suggests, state attitudes toward the non-proliferation regime are likely affected by “multicausality.” Therefore, even if security factors are dominant, normative and domestic concerns may nevertheless have an important role at the margins of the NPT debate. Normative factors A number of international law scholars have suggested that the legitimacy of international institutions, and thereby states’ attitudes towards these institutions, stems from states’ perceptions that the institutions are fair. Thomas Franck (1998), drawing on the social contractarian tradition, suggests that states place a high importance on ensuring that the obligations imposed by international organizations are allocated evenly. Institutions imply reciprocity - members of an organization expect other members to fulfill their part of the bargain and demand that the institution’s structures to not unduly favor one group over the other. Hampson and Hart (1999) also find that in practice, concerns about distributional justice play an important role in negotiations among states. Treaties tend to focus on outcomes that satisfy fairness as opposed to maximum efficiency (44). In the context of the NPT, the legitimacy of the treaty stems from the fairness of the nuclear/non-nuclear bargain. The perceived failure of the nuclear states to pursue disarmament in good faith directly implicates the treaty’s normative force as it suggests an unequal distribution of obligations. NWS benefit disproportionately from their nuclear monopoly while non-nuclear states are burdened with restrictions on their freedom of action in the realm of nuclear policy (Grotto, 2009, 13). If nuclear states demand more restrictions on proliferation, the logic of fairness requires them to compensate non-nuclear states if these states are to accept such restrictions. The “legitimacy” hypothesis suggests that the amount of attention allocated by NNWS to nonproliferation issues depends on the amount of attention NWS allocate to disarmament. This is precisely the argument made by arms control experts like Joseph Cirincione and Daryl Kimball more focus on disarmament by the nuclear powers will be reciprocated by concessions on nonproliferation by non-nuclear states. However, non-nuclear states are not all equally concerned with legitimacy issues. While NWS failure to pursue disarmament is ostensibly unfair to all non-nuclear states, some states may be more sensitive to the perceived fairness of the NPT than others. Grotto (2009) finds that although industrialized and democratic states uniformly support expanded restrictions on proliferation (the NPT-plus obligations), support is much less uniform among less developed states, especially those that are members of the Non Aligned Movement (NAM) (16). He hypothesizes that the symbolism of the NPT bargain is more relevant to those states that are more dissatisfied with the global distribution of power (17). The NPT essentially codifies the nuclear monopoly of the great powers. -189-
Non-nuclear states that accept and benefit from this monopoly (such as the members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization) will support non-proliferation regardless of how much progress is being made on disarmament. Conversely, states that are more revisionist will be more likely to condition their support for non-proliferation on reciprocal concessions from the nuclear powers. The espoused ideology of the NAM is particularly emblematic of such a revisionist perspective - it’s ultimate goal is the restructuring of the international economic and political order to increase the influence of developing countries (Grotto, 2009, 17). Given that the symbolic value of fairness is likely to be less relevant to states that are content with the status quo, the legitimacy hypothesis may only apply to the subset of states which actively seek to change the current balance of power. If the normative hypothesis is accurate, states that are sensitive to concerns over the legitimacy of the NPT will tend to assign a greater proportion of its statement to non-proliferation in years when the United States assigns a larger proportion to disarmament.7 I identify two specific groups that are expected to be especially responsive to concerns over fairness. The first is the NonAligned Movement. As suggested earlier these states tend to be more critical of the insufficiency of NWS disarmament efforts and in general emphasize the redistribution of power within the international system. The second is the much smaller New Agenda Coalition (NAC). The NAC is a grouping of middle powers formed during the run-up to the 2000 NPT Review Conference that seeks to break the deadlock on nuclear disarmament by forming a bridge between the nuclear powers and developing states. These states have tended to place significant emphasis on the idea of a “grand bargain” between the NWS and NNWS and are generally very vocal in their criticism of the insufficiency of NWS disarmament efforts (Ogilvie-White and Santoro, 2011, 106). Moreover, such middle powers generally focus their diplomatic energy on multilateral initiatives and work to bolster the legitimacy of such institutions (Cooper et. al., 1993). This multilateralist leaning suggests that the NAC will likewise be responsive to the perceived fairness of the NPT. I operationalize this hypothesis by including two interaction effect terms in the OLS regression on the linearized topic proportions for non-proliferation. These terms interact the linearized topic proportion for disarmament estimated for the United States in a given year with a dummy variable representing whether a given state is a member of the NAM or the NAC respectively. If these states do indeed reciprocate disarmament concessions by the NWS with nonproliferation concessions of their own, then, at the very least, one should observe changes in their priorities given different levels of importance assigned by the U.S. to disarmament. The coefficients of these interaction terms should therefore be positive. If NAM and NAC states actively form their expressed preferences in light of concerns regarding the legitimacy of the NPT bargain, an increase in U.S. attention to disarmament issues should elicit comparatively more focus on the nonproliferation pillar. Security factors In contrast to the normative hypothesis, realist scholars suggest that a state’s attitude toward the non-proliferation regime is predominantly determined by its security situation. Grotto (2009) hypothesizes that states evaluate non-proliferation policies based on whether these policies “protect or augment the balance of military power.” (22). The implication of this logic is that states will prioritize non-proliferation if they perceive their national security to be threatened by potential proliferators. Conversely, they will prioritize disarmament if their security concerns stem mostly from status quo nuclear arsenals. I identify three variables that influence these security considerations: whether a state has a nuclear arsenal, whether a state has a security guarantee from a nuclear power, and whether a state is more threatened by new proliferators than by status quo arsenals. -190-
The implications of nuclear status are clear. As mentioned previously, during the initial negotiations over the NPT text, the United States and the Soviet Union largely considered disarmament to be an afterthought. For the nuclear powers, the primary aim of the NPT is to constrain the spread of nuclear weapons in order to preserve stable deterrence and their nuclear monopoly. Keeping the nuclear club from growing was of much greater importance than taking steps to shrink it. Grotto (2009) suggests that such great powers have a generally greater interest in preventing proliferation than do weaker states because proliferation has a much greater negative effect on their ability to project power globally. A world with more nuclear deterrents blunts the United States’ ability to use its conventional force (25-26). Because nuclear powers want to preserve the value of their arsenals, they can be expected to generally focus more on the non-proliferation pillar and less on the disarmament pillar. The effect of the “nuclear umbrella” follows a similar logic. First, a strong security guarantee from a nuclear power decreases the desirability of proliferation (Singh and Way, 2004). Therefore, a non-nuclear state under a nuclear umbrella faces a lower opportunity cost (in terms of the value of a foregone nuclear capability) to promoting non-proliferation objectives. Like an NWS, it has an active incentive to prevent the emergence of new nuclear powers as proliferation would weaken the value of existing nuclear arsenals and thereby their security guarantee. NNWS under a “nuclear umbrella” are also expected to be less likely to prioritize disarmament goals as they depend on status quo arsenals for their own security and do not consider them to be a threat. Ultimately, as they face incentives similar to those facing their nuclear “benefactors” - keeping the nuclear club small and maintaining the strength of the guarantee - NNWS allies of NWS should be expected to prioritize non-proliferation over disarmament. To test these two effects, I include two dummy variables in the OLS regressions on non-proliferation and disarmament topic proportions. The first indicates whether a state possesses a nuclear weapons arsenal; the second denotes whether a non-nuclear state is in a strong security alliance with a nuclear power.8 Threat perceptions are slightly more difficult to quantify. What is needed is a rough measure of whether a state feels more threatened by potential future nuclear arsenals or by current arsenals (the NWS states). The former suggests that states will prioritize non-proliferation while the latter implies a focus on disarmament. Scott Parrish and William Potter (2005) suggest that “threat assessments are linked to policy preferences and that states sharing a common threat perception are more likely to agree on policy priorities” (1). Therefore, the more convergent two states are regarding their “policy priorities,” the more similar their threat assessments will be. In order to measure policy convergence, I use the degree of voting similarity between a particular state and the United States at the UN General Assembly for a given years. Given the United States’ position as the global hegemon, it best represents the ideal status quo state. Other states that are closely aligned with the U.S. can be expected to also exhibit status quo tendencies while those that are far away from the U.S.’ position likely tend towards a revisionist attitude. UNGA voting records are superior measures of state affinity than other common proxies such as alliances as they are contain much more information across multiple issue areas (while alliance changes are infrequent) and their symbolic nature means that true preferences as opposed to strategic calculations are much more likely to determine a particular state’s vote (Gartzke, 2006). Additionally, because not all UNGA votes are perceived equally by the United States, I use only the degree of similarity on issues that the U.S. State Department has declared are “key votes” in its annual report to Congress. The State Department’s 1985 report suggests that this is a strong metric for assessing preference convergence, commenting that the "only votes that can legitimately be read as a measure of support for the United States are those which we identified as important to us, and on which we lobby” (quoted in Thacker, 1999). A high degree of convergence with the United States at the UNGA suggests that a state has threat perceptions similar to those of the U.S. and will likely focus on non-proliferation -191-
issues (as it is more concerned about rogue arsenals than those held by status quo powers). Conversely, revisionist states that are dissatisified with the hegemon will have significantly different threat perceptions and likely emphasize disarmament, fearing status quo arsenals more than those of potential “rogues.” Domestic factors A third group of hypotheses emphasizes the role of internal political factors. State attitudes toward the non-proliferation regime may be as much a product of domestic political signaling as they are a result of external security concerns. Grotto (2009) isolates one potential factor - the extent to which a state’s leadership promotes economic liberalization. Solingen (1994) finds that states headed by coalitions that are “outward-looking” in terms of economic policy are more likely to support non-proliferation than less economically liberal “inward-looking” coalitions. She finds that of those states that at one time maintained ambiguous nuclear programs, only those headed by political coalitions that strongly supported economic liberalization were willing to abandon their ambiguity and commit to denuclearization and non-proliferation obligations. Because these liberalizing coalitions depended on strong global economic ties for their political survival, they were less likely to want to take actions that would make them a global pariah and disrupt their access to global markets. Rather, they conformed their non-proliferation policies with those of the international community in order to preserve good relations with their trading partners. If this hypothesis is accurate, states that have greater exposure to the global economy are more likely to prioritize non-proliferation compared to those that are less exposed. To test this effect, I include two variables in the regression as proxies for whether a state’s leadership is outward or inward looking based on the approach in Singh and Way (2004). The first is an overall measure of integration that, for a given state and conference year, equals the sum of that state’s imports and exports as a percent of GDP averaged over the five years before the year of the conference. The second is a measure of liberalization based on a five-year moving average of the yearly changes in imports plus exports as a percent of GDP. Additionally, I include a logged measure of per-capita GDP to control for overall development. All economic data are taken from the World Bank’s World Development Indicators dataset (2011). Previous studies of proliferation have also suggested that a state’s level of democracy may have an effect on a state’s propensity to acquire nuclear weapons. However, the findings have been inconclusive. Scholars drawing on the “democratic peace” tradition have hypothesized that the shared values and institutional linkages fostered among the core of liberal democratic states weaken the incentive to proliferate by dampening the impact of the security dilemma. Chafetz (1993) suggests that the internalization of non-proliferation norms among non-nuclear democratic polities creates a powerful domestic constraint against proliferation as any decision to go against these norms would likely provoke significant backlash. Japan and Germany are good examples of this phenomenon as each faces a staunchly anti-nuclear public and codified limitations on its military (Japan explicitly forbids nuclear weapons in its constitution). Additionally, Sasikumar and Way (2009) note that democratic transparency may weaken the ability of security elites to gain disproportionate political leverage to push for a nuclear program. However, other scholars suggest that democracies may be more vulnerable to proliferation. Perkovich (1999), citing the popularity of India’s nuclear weapons program among the Indian public, suggests that democratic leaders may pursue nuclear weapons as a means of pandering to nationalist sentiment for political gain. Kroenig (2009) finds systematic support for this hypothesis, noting a positive and statistically significant correlation between democracy and nuclear acquisition, commenting that these states “may be subject to pressure from domestic constituencies that favor nuclear development” (172). -192-
If democracy dampens a state’s desire for nuclear weapons by fostering a general “norm” of non-proliferation, one would expect democracies to be stronger promoters of non-proliferation than non-democracies. On the other hand, if democracies, particularly non-nuclear democracies, are more likely to to pander to a domestic pro-nuclear lobby, they would likely pay less attention to nonproliferation concerns. Grotto (2008) suggests that both hypotheses may be accurate depending on the character of the democratic state. The first hypothesis may be more applicable to western democracies that are members of the traditional liberal-democratic core while the second may be more salient among newly-emerging democratic states whose publics may be more oriented toward what Grotto terms a “sovereign-nationalist” view of international politics (10). These states, commonly post-colonial rising powers, place a strong emphasis on their political and economic autonomy and oppose the interference of the traditional great powers in their domestic affairs. While such states should be expected to emphasize disarmament obligations over non-proliferation simply on the basis of their position in the international system, more democratic “sovereignnationalist” states may face even greater barriers to focusing on non-proliferation in the form of “audience costs” (Fearon, 1994). Their domestic publics may be particularly sensitive to the inequitable distribution of power that institutions like the NPT codify and thereby reward leaders who focus overwhelmingly on strong pro-disarmament positions. State membership in the Nonaligned movement (NAM) serves as a good proxy for whether a state’s public is likely to have such foreign policy views because, as previously suggested, the NAM is the “textbook” example of an organization that promotes the anti-imperialist, pro-independence goals of post-colonial states (Grotto, 2008, 10). I include three variables in the OLS regression to test the effect of democracy: a state’s level of democracy as measured using scores from the Polity IV project (Marshall et. al., 2011) which range from 10 (completely democratic) to -10 (hereditary monarchy), a dummy variable indicating membership in the NAM and the interaction of these two variables (to assess the differential effect of democracy on “sovereign-nationalist” states).
3. Data and Methods I propose a novel approach to quantifying the policy positions of states by studying the topical structure of the statements that they make within NPT fora using unsupervised automated content analysis techniques. Each meeting of the NPT Review Conference and Preparatory Committee provides a forum for states to articulate their position on the non-proliferation regime. The texts of these statements constitute a unique corpus of data that can be analyzed using a topic model. If the content of each speech is assumed to arise from a certain underlying prioritization of the three main topics or pillars of the treaty, then every word can be modeled as a reference to one of those themes. Each of the three pillars is distinguished by a unique vocabulary. Certain words can be understood as clearly referring to one pillar as opposed to another. While speakers discussing non-proliferation may focus on “safeguards,” restricting the “supply” of nuclear materials or criticizing possible proliferators like “Iran” or the “DPRK,” those focused on disarmament will emphasize the “elimination” of nuclear arms and appeal to the “efforts” of states aiming at a “world free of nuclear weapons.” Because each speech is finite, each word is necessarily a trade-off among topics. Even if states are not constrained by speech time, the fact that speeches must end means that some topics will get comparatively more attention than other topics. Models that mirror this logic of statement formation and conceive of each document in a corpus as representing a finite mixture of topics have been developed in recent years within the field of computer science. This paper utilizes such a model - a variation of Latent Dirichlet Allocation (LDA) (Blei et. al, 2003) known as the “Correlated Topic Model” (CTM) (Blei and Lafferty, 2006) in -193-
order to estimate states’ revealed preferences. Both LDA and CTM model the text of each document as arising from a mixture of underlying topics and the content of each topic as a distribution of words. The topics returned by model estimation, can then be classified manually by a researcher who can easily infer the relationship between a set of given words and a broader theme. For example, a hypothetical CTM may return a topic containing the words “meow”, “scratch” and “kitten.” This topic can be intuitively labeled as a “cat” topic. LDA and CTM are generative models, meaning that they explain the process by which observed data is created given some latent variables. The objective is to estimate these parameters. In this case, each document is modeled as a distribution of topics and each word in a document is drawn from that distribution. Observing the words, one can estimate the topics. Formally, Blei et. al. (2003) describe the general outline of the LDA model as follows: Assume a fixed and known number of topics k and a vocabulary of V unique words. For each document w in a corpus of documents D: Draw the document length N from a Poisson distribution with prior parameter x. Draw the distribution of topics j for the document from a Dirichlet distribution with prior parameter a For each of N words wn : Draw a topic z n from a Multinomial distribution with parameter vector j. Draw a word wn from the conditional multinomial probability p( wn | z n , b) where b is a V x k matrix giving the probability that each word V belongs to each topic k. The important parameters to be estimated are b, from which the meaning of the topics is inferred, and j for each document, which gives an estimate of the topical content of each speech. Note, however, that the LDA model is constrained in that it assumes that topics are independent of one another by using the Dirichlet distribution. As Blei and Lafferty (2006) note, this may not be an accurate model of document generation as topics may be correlated with one another. They give the example of scientific articles, where an article about genetics may refer to other, broader, health issues, but probably not to x-ray astronomy (2). The same sort of correlation may also appear in NPT statements. Given that two of the pillars (disarmament and peaceful use) are affiliated with a particular side of the NPT “bargain” (the non-nuclear states), they are likely to be correlated. A state that is criticizing NWS for not upholding their half of the NPT may cite failures regarding both the disarmament and the peaceful use pillars. Likewise, energy terms may suggest both the non-proliferation and the peaceful use categories. For example, references to the IAEA may refer to the agency’s safeguards regime or to its technical assistance role. Therefore, the assumption of independence is unlikely to hold. CTM solves this problem by relaxing the assumption of independence. Formally, it replaces the draw from the Dirichlet distribution with a draw from the logistic normal distribution - a normal distribution h with mean and covariance matrix S that is mapped onto the simplex by the logistic (h jexp (h i)/ j). The logistic transform maps the distribution back onto the 0 transform f( h i ) = exp to 1 range of the Dirichlet while allowing for correlations to be modeled via the covariance matrix S. A comparative test between the two models suggests that CTM provides an improvement in accuracy over LDA as measured by the log probability of hold-out estimates, especially for larger numbers of topics (Blei and Lafferty 2006). However, this increase in flexibility comes at the cost of a more complicated estimation process. While the posterior distribution is intractable to compute for both LDA and CTM, LDA’s application of the Dirichlet distribution allows for the use of Gibbs sampling to efficiently approximate the parameters via simulation since the Dirichlet is the conjugate prior of the multinomial distribution (Griffiths and Steyvers, 2004). In CTM, however, the logistic normal is not conjugate, making inference more difficult as simulation-based methods are not available. -194-
Blei and Lafferty (2006) outline a variational method for approximating the posterior but note that “variational methods do not come with the same theoretical guarantees as simulation methods” (4). While this is a reason to be cautious in the estimates, it is nevertheless a necessary trade-off given the expectation of correlation among the underlying topics. The method, which is implemented in R by the topicmodels package (Grun and Hornik, 2011), is a variational expectation maximization (VEM) algorithm that starts from a set of initial values for the parameters and alternates between an (E) expectation step that computes the expected likelihood given the data and the parameter estimates and an (M) maximization step that re-computes the parameters to maximize the likelihood (for more explanation see Grun and Hornik, 2011, pg 4-6 and Blei and Lafferty, 2006). I estimate the CTM model on an original dataset of speeches made at NPT Review Conferences and meetings of the Preparatory Committee from 2000 to 2010. This covers 9 separate conventions: the 2000, 2005 and 2010 Review Conferences and the 2002, 2003, 2004, 2007, 2008 and 2009 Preparatory Committees. I downloaded all English-language speech transcripts available at the website of the Reaching Critical Will Project and used optical character recognition (OCR) software to convert the scanned transcripts into a text corpus. Although using English translations only may have slightly undersampled certain regions that tended to not submit an English version of their statement (notably Latin America and the Middle East), the vast majority of statements were able to be included in the corpus. Because standard topic models tend to not handle multiple languages well, the exclusion of non-English statements was necessary. The total number of documents in the corpus is 907. Of these, 461 are statements made in the General Debate of a RevCon or PrepCom where the speakers are not constrained as to which pillars they may discuss. The remainder are statements from the Review Conference “Main Committees” and the Preparatory Committee “Cluster Debates” in which states focus exclusively on one of the three pillars. I estimate the CTM model on the entire corpus of 907 texts, but include only General Debate statements in the final regression analysis. Additionally, I exclude from the regression statements made by intergovernmental organizations along with those made by states for whom certain independent variable data was missing. This narrows the actual regression sample to 344 statements. The Main Committee and Cluster Debate statements are used to validate the accuracy of the topics generated by the topic model. Prior to estimating the CTM model, I removed from the documents all generic stop words which contain no relevant topic information (the, an, a, this, etc...). In addition, I removed a predetermined set of words that are common to the broader topic of the NPT but do not necessarily help to differentiate between topics.9 Finally, following a similar approach to Grimmer (2010), I eliminate all words that appear in more than 92% of documents or in less than 8% of documents as they are either too ubiquitous or too uncommon to serve as an effective means of differentiating between topics. For the parameter estimates used in this paper, I assume three topics and run the VEM algorithm 50 times, selecting the set of estimates with the greatest log-likelihood to be used for regression analysis.10 I use a series of validity checks based on the computed topic distributions for documents from the Main Committees (which are organized around each of the three pillars and thereby have constrained topic choice) to confirm that the topics generated by the CTM algorithm generally correspond with the three pillars of the treaty. The topic proportions returned by the CTM model are linearized using a logit transform in order to map the constrained 0 to 1 proportions onto the real line. The results for the nonproliferation and disarmament pillars are then regressed using ordinary least squares (OLS) on the independent variables outlined in Section 2. In total, the full model includes 21 variables including three interaction effects and eight dummy variables representing the independent effects of the nine different conferences. These dummies are meant to control for unobserved differences in the overall -195-
agenda for a given year (such as changes in the issues facing the NPT). To ensure that the findings are robust, I estimated the model with seven different combinations of the independent variables for each of the two dependent variables.
4. Results Estimating the Topic Model Table 1 gives the top twenty words in each of the three topics as estimated by the CTM (these are the words which have the greatest probabilities of belonging to a particular topic). A cursory glance suggests that the topics map onto the three pillars rather neatly. One topic contains many words that refer to the process of controlling the spread of nuclear materials: “safeguards”, “iaea”, “protocol”, “material”, “system”, “verification”, and “export,” along with the name of a potential proliferator, “iran,” strongly suggesting that this topic refers to “non-proliferation.” The category tagged as “disarmament” contains aspirational rhetoric: “united”, “steps”, “towards”, “world”, along with references to arms reductions: “elimination”, “free” and “strategic.” Finally, the “energy” category contains references both to technology and to development with terms like “energy”, “peaceful”, “development”, “technical”, “power”, “cycle” and “radioactive.” On face, the topics appear to be valid representation of the NPT debate. To confirm this interpretation, I compare the topic proportions among documents from the Main Committee Review Conference debates with the proportions for statements in the General Debates. These “sub-committee” discussions at the RevCons are explicitly constrained to discussing one of the three pillars. If the CTM topics are a good representation of the three-pillar structure, one would expect the topic proportions for documents in each topic-focused discussion to skew heavily toward the assigned pillar. This appears to be the case. I use two-sample t-tests between the logit transformed mean proportion for a given topic in its respective committee and the logit transformed mean proportion for that same topic in the General Debate. The differences are significant far beyond the 99.99% level (p < .0001) and the magnitude of these differences are substantial. A topic receives substantially more attention in its appropriate main committee than it does in the General Debate. These checks suggest that the generated topics are a relatively good model for the threepillar structure of the NPT. Figure 1 shows a series of trilinear plots of the estimated topic proportions for each state at the 2000, 2005 and 2010 Review Conferences. The plots suggest that the overall structure of the NPT debate has become increasingly diffuse since 2000. Where most states at the 2000 Review Conference are clustered around the disarmament “pole,” the 2005 Review Conference shows a significant drift in the direction of non-proliferation, especially among nuclear weapons states and their allies. In 2010, the expansion toward non-proliferation remains, but appears to have been complemented by additional emphasis on the peaceful use pillar. This graphical representation appears to confirm Joyner’s (2011) account of the increasing re-prioritization of non-proliferation over disarmament by many states after 2000. Likewise, the plots for all three years strongly support the security hypotheses - those states that are closer to the non-proliferation end of the triplot tend to be NWS or in an alliance with NWS. While the overall agenda of the NPT has changed over the three years, the cleavage between nuclear and non-nuclear states appears quite consistent. Regression Analysis Statistical tests using standard OLS linear regression provide further insight into the correlates of NPT attitudes. Tables 2 and 3 give the coefficients and standard errors for OLS regressions of the estimated topic proportions for non-proliferation and disarmament respectively on six combinations of the explanatory variables. The first regression includes all specified -196-
independent variables. The second, following the cautionary advice of Braumoller (2004), includes only the main-effects terms in order to avoid misinterpreting main-effects where interaction terms are present. The third, fourth and fifth regressions respectively include only the independent variables related to each of the three strains of hypotheses (normative, security and domestic). Finally, the sixth regression contains only the terms that remain robust across the first five models. The results suggest that both security and normative explanations have merit. Possession of nuclear weapons or a nuclear umbrella from another power corresponds to a significantly higher amount of attention allocated to non-proliferation and a significantly smaller amount of attention to disarmament. The threat variable is not statistically significant in the full model, but given that NATO allies tend to have a voting affinity similar to that of the United States, it may be merely due to multicolinearity. The findings are relatively robust to alternative specifications and appear to confirm the security hypotheses. States’ positions at the NPT are heavily determined by their security interests, particularly by whether or not the state tends to favor or oppose the status-quo distribution of power. These results mirror the conclusion of Jo and Gartzke (2007) and Singh and Way (2004) which likewise find that security factors are the primary correlates of proliferation. However, although security concerns are highly salient, there appears to be some evidence for the normative hypothesis as well. The interaction of the “U.S. disarmament attention” variable with the NAM dummy variable returns a positive and statistically significant coefficient at beyond the 99% significance level. The interaction with the NAC dummy returns a similar result. Figures 2 and 3 illustrate this interaction effect. While, among non-NAM states, increased U.S. attention to disarmament corresponds to a decline in a state’s attention to non-proliferation, this effect is attenuated slightly among NAM states. Among states of the New Agenda Coalition, the interaction effect is enough of a counterweight to the main effect that the relationship becomes positive. That these interaction effects are both positive and significant suggests that legitimacy concerns do play a role in shaping states’ positions, especially among those states most interested in the treaty’s fairness. Note that even when considered jointly with the main effect, the interactions are still very informative. Given the way that the model is structured, the main effect itself is largely meaningless. Because the model forces a zero-sum constraint on a given state’s attention, the negative main effect may simply be due to changes in the overall agenda of the NPT - a spurious relationship. Increased attention to disarmament necessarily suggests some decline in attention to non-proliferation. States may merely be following the United States’ position, or, more likely, are moving congruently with the United States in responding to changes in the issues facing the NPT each year. The important effect is the interaction term. The positive interaction for both the NAM and the NAC suggests that, among these states in particular, the spurious and negative agenda effect is moderated by some countervailing effect. This effect is precisely what the normative hypothesis would predict increased attention by the United States to disarmament is reciprocated with increased attention to non-proliferation among NAM and NAC states. This does not necessarily imply a particular causal relationship. Does focus on disarmament by NWS cause NAM states to assign more importance to non-proliferation or do NWS adjust their degree of focus on disarmament in response to increased attentiveness to non-proliferation among the NAM? Who is moving whom? Perhaps there is no direct relationship and the correlation is simply a result of both sides of the bargain independently choosing to moderate their position after the 2005 Review Conference in order to avert another failure. Regardless, the data suggest that the legitimacy of the “bargain” remains a salient factor in shaping some states’ attitudes towards the non-proliferation regime. Finally, I fail to find significant effects among the domestic variables. Neither trade nor democracy are systematically associated with a particular preference for non-proliferation or disarmament. While GDP per capita is significant in one specification of the model, this effect disappears when development is considered jointly with security factors (which are much more -197-
robust). These findings accord well with previous studies of proliferation (Jo and Gartzke, 2007; Singh and Way, 2004). As Jo and Gartzke (2007) warn, “claims made in the literature that domestic political factors influence proliferation decisions are much exaggerated” (184). However, this is not to say that domestic variables are irrelevant. Case studies of proliferation decision-making in East and South-east Asia strongly suggest the importance of “second-image” factors (Perkovich, 1999; Solingen, 1994). Rather, it is likely that the effects of domestic institutions are too subtle for this paper’s approach to identify. For example, regime type may not matter much when states are simply placed on a one-dimensional scale of democracy to autocracy, but different types of autocracies or democracies may exhibit different attitudes toward the non-proliferation regime.11 Likewise, whether a state’s leadership is “outward-looking” or “inward-looking” may not be entirely clear from trade data alone. Further research on these questions is needed.
5. Conclusion What explains states’ revealed preferences toward the non-proliferation regime? Does the perceived fairness of the Non-proliferation Treaty’s “bargain” affect non-nuclear states’ willingness to address non-proliferation issues or is a country’s attitude largely a function of its security environment? Certainly the Obama administration’s recent efforts on disarmament suggest that a number of policymakers believe the former to be true. By rectifying the Bush administration’s less balanced approach toward the three pillars of the NPT, President Obama likely hopes to attract more support among non-nuclear states for his non-proliferation agenda. However, given the very real constraints on substantial progress towards disarmament, the oft-cited “bargain” between nuclear and non-nuclear states may be mere rhetoric. Nuclear and non-nuclear states may simply have different interests regarding non-proliferation and disarmament and their attitudes toward the NPT may simply be reflections of those interests. I find that both interpretations may be accurate explanations of the NPT debate. While there is certainly a persistent background tension between nuclear states and their allies - who want to promote non-proliferation - and the non-nuclear states outside of that club - who tend to focus on disarmament, normative factors may have important effects at the margins. I find that states that are in a strong military alliance with a nuclear power or are nuclear powers themselves allocate comparatively more attention to non-proliferation issues and less to disarmament issues than those that are not. However, those states that would tend to express legitimacy concerns (the states of the Non-Aligned Movement for example) appear to respond to increased attention to disarmament issues on the part of the U.S. with a reciprocal increase in attention to non-proliferation. While this may not necessarily imply a direct causal link between U.S. action and other countries’ reactions, it does show that preferences do not exist in a vacuum and that states actively take other states’ positions into account when formulating their positions toward the non-proliferation regime. In order to draw these conclusions, I draw on automated content analysis methods to create a model of state revealed preferences. Using the statements that NPT parties make at the regular conferences established to review the treaty’s implementation, I obtain an estimate of how much importance each state assigns to the treaty’s three pillars in a given year. The underlying topical structure of a country’s statement reveals important information about the relative priority that it assigns to the NPT’s three pillars. This model, known as the Correlated Topic Model (CTM), has many other potential applications in political science, especially in the study of institutions that tend to be more informal and operate through consensus decision-making (such as the NPT). Additionally, it allows political scientists to study the latent rather than the explicit characteristics of -198-
a text, permitting them to minimize concerns about how “genuine” the content of a statement may be and focus primarily on its underlying structure. There are nevertheless a few relevant limitations to this paper’s analysis. The most obvious is the constrained time period for which data is readily available. While the 2000 to 2010 timeframe encompasses the two most significant periods in the NPT’s recent history - the collapse of the 2005 Review Conference and the tenuous success in 2010 - it omits a very significant debate - the 1995 decision to extend the treaty indefinitely. Unfortunately, accurate transcripts of these statements could not not found. Furthermore, the CTM model lacks an effective means of quantifying uncertainty in its estimated topic proportions. Although validation checks help confirm that the estimated topics align closely with the NPT’s three pillars and are a relatively good representation of the debate, topic interpretation is always to some extent subjective. Because no topic model can unambiguously determine a topic’s theme from the words assigned to it, any content analysis method will always be unable to capture the true meaning of a text given the complexity of language. While the “bag-of-words” model is a very effective way to simplify a document (Hopkins and King, 2010), there is nevertheless always a gap between the abstract representation of a text and the meaning a speaker intends to convey. This is not a problem unique to content analysis methods. All attempts to determine preference from elicited or observed responses. For example, roll call votes, which are frequently used to estimate a political actor’s policy positions, are confounded by strategic voting, which can make such votes an inaccurate measure of true preference (Clinton and Meirowitz, 2003). Regardless, the limitations of the model are an important reason to be cautious in accepting any results to be conclusive or final. I find strong evidence that states’ revealed preferences are strongly aligned with their position in the international system. Nevertheless, the perceived fairness of the treaty is not merely rhetoric - non-nuclear states appear to respond to U.S. concessions on disarmament. The policy implications of this finding are therefore mixed. Although the inflexibility of the current security architecture can be expected to be a persistent barrier to consensus, the degree of dissensus can nevertheless be moderated. The Obama administration’s effort to re-balance the United States’ position towards the NPT appears to have been reciprocated among some non-nuclear states. While increasing the credibility of the NWS disarmament obligation will be unlikely to significantly sway those states strongly aligned against the United States and the status-quo security structure absent an extreme concession like unilateral disarmament, it is not an entirely futile signal and may be particularly meaningful to those rising powers that are more ambivalent towards the status-quo (like Brazil and South Africa, both members of the New Agenda Coalition). Further research should therefore more closely examine these states’ role within the NPT framework and analyze how their non-proliferation policies interact with those pursued by the major nuclear powers. 1
I thank Erik Voeten, James Vreeland, and Matthew Kroenig for comments on previous drafts of this paper. Special thanks go out to Daniel Hopkins for helping me with the content analysis methods used. 2 See Kimball, 2005 for another example: ``If some nuclear-weapon states disavow past NPT commitments, they increase the risk that non-nuclear-weapon states will not fulfill theirs or agree to new measures to strengthen the nonproliferation system.'' 3 See Sagan, 1996; Singh and Way, 2004; Jo and Gartzke, 2007; Sagan, 2010 4 See Alker, 1964; Holloway, 1990; Kim and Russett, 1996 and Voeten, 2000 for additional examples of research on state alignments that analyzes UNGA roll call data. 5 See Martin and Simmons, 1998 6 As of 2011, only Israel, India, Pakistan and North Korea, all of which are de-facto nuclear weapons states, remain non-signatories to the treaty. North Korea withdrew in 2003 after confirming the existence of its uranium enrichment program (Nielsen 2007; Bunn and Rhinelander 2005; Parry 2009). -199-
7
I use the United States here as a proxy for NWS in general since most of the criticism for under-prioritizing disarmament tends to be aimed at U.S. policy (Joyner, 2011). 8 Nuclear weapons states are defined by the NPT as the United States, Russia, China, France and the United Kingdom. All other states with known nuclear capabilities at the time of this study are outside of the NPT. I code the United States' nuclear umbrella as extending to formal allies, defined as all non-nuclear members of NATO along with Japan, South Korea and Australia. States under the Russian ``nuclear umbrella'' are defined as members of the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO). Although the reach of the Russian umbrella is less clear (as its Cold War alliances have been significantly reconfigured after the collapse of the Soviet Union), CSTO membership is a good proxy since Russian officials have previously declared that these states would be protected by the Russian nuclear arsenal (``Russia: The Nuclear Umbrella...'', 2010). 9 Specifically, the terms I selected were: "countries", "weapons", "weapon", "nuclear", "review", "npt", "nonproliferation", "disarmament", "proliferation", "security", "treaty" ,"parties" ,"implementation" ,"delegation", "conference", "international", "president", "chairman" and "chairperson." 10 To define convergence for VEM, I use the default criteria based on change in log-likelihood outlined in Grun and Hornik (2011) 11 Way and Weeks (2011) provide one such example, finding that highly personalist autocracies are more likely to pursue nuclear weapons than other types of autocracies.
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An Examination of the Imperative Principle of Action Linnea Turco, The George Washington University The first time the words self-determination were explicitly used in the context of US foreign policy was when Woodrow Wilson declared that, “‘Self-determination’ is not a mere phrase. It is an imperative principle of action, which statesmen will henceforth ignore at their peril” (War Aims of Germany and Austria, 11 February 1918). The notion of self-determination has been a key component of the identity of the United States from its beginning. The Founding Fathers regarded self-governance as an “inalienable right.”Indeed, Thomas Paine said that the “authority of the people” is “the only authority on which government has a right to exist in any country” (cited in Paust, 1980, p. 9). Examining the self-determination on which the US was established, juxtaposed with the US foreign policy in the modern era1 that ignores movements fighting for the same right to self-government, there is the appearance of a heinous hypocrisy and betrayal by the US to its own identity. Why does the US offer aid to the people of Tibet but deny it to those striving for independence in South Ossetia and Abkhasia? Despite innumerable signals that the norm of self-determination is still important to the people of the US today, governmental support and reflection of this norm in concrete policy is erratic at best. Given the precedents of an inherent right of all people to self-determine, why does the US employ a policy of selective promotion towards self-determination movements today? I posit a normative, constructivist argument is best able to address the varied interests and selective promotion of the US. Constructivists argue that situations are what we make of them (Wendt, 1992). The US accords self-determination status to some groups and not others depending on whether or not the US treats them as a self-determination movement or not. However, there are many different norms that drive US foreign policy decisions. Depending on situational circumstances, one norm may outweigh another (i.e. the US promotes human rights, democracy, and US safety or interests). The sporadic implementation of the norm of self-determination by the US is not a reflection of whether this norm has been internalized by the US, but is based on the logic of appropriateness towards competing norms. With an understanding of constructivism the question might become: Why is the norm of self-determination implemented by the US sometimes and not others, even though the norm is internalized by the population and the government? In the following sections I will give an analysis of the peculiar record of support, which may be defined as the signals given by the US government that carry weight, signaling affirmation of a selfdetermination movement. Support must exceed simple rhetorical affirmation and be explicitly codified, including economic policies directed toward a specific movement, ratification and signature of US and UN treaties or declarations, and military measures taken either against or in conjunction with other states in explicit aid of the movement. Self-determination movements may be defined as the exercise of the right of any people to self-governance, either by means of representative government, secession or other autonomy, revolution, unification with or even dependence on another state. I will then provide relevant historical context for the issue of self-determination as well as a review of previous literature addressing this question. I will briefly discuss the inadequacy of past arguments, and will provide an overview of the theoretical framework in order to better understand the component parts of -201-
constructivist theory. In my evaluation, I will present several key cases in the modern history of selfdetermination and inspect them vis-à-vis the components of constructivism, offer a critique of constructivism, and engage several counterarguments to my own. Finally, I will make recommendations to the theoretical framework of constructivism, in addition to implications for the future of US policy with regards to self-determination movements.
I. Background Information The origins of support for self-determination should be examined in order to understand its significance today. As Cobban (1969) noted, the American colonists’ struggle against the British for independence had precedents in the writings of John Locke and the right to popular sovereignty. According to Unterberger (2002), the subsequent movements following the Berlin Treaty and the independence of several tributary principalities of the Ottoman Empire during the nineteenth century came to be synonymous with the ideal of self-governance. The concept was revived at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 where Woodrow Wilson’s ideals of self-determination became recognized in international law with the UN Charter (Kirgis, 1994). The US continued to codify its support for self determination through the twentieth century, but despite these manifestations of norm supporting selfdetermination, it voted in abstention for many UN resolutions supporting the principle (Murphy, 1980) as well as “supported arrangements” that undermined self-determination movements in several cases (Murphy, 1980, p. 53). It is counterintuitive that the US does not support a consistent agenda of support for selfdetermination movements given its roots in self-governing theory. This is puzzling not only because of the concept of self-determination in American history, but because following World War I and World War II, the League of Nations, and the United Nations, US policy toward self-determination became officially codified. UN declarations and human rights treaties like Resolution 1514 – “All peoples have the right to self-determination; by virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social, and cultural development” (cited in Halperin, Scheffer, & Small, 1992 p. 21) – became US law. This seemingly indicates that the US routinely disregards both its own founding principles as well as international law because it continually fails to support the right of all peoples to self-determine.
II.
Literature Review
In many cases, extant literature explains variance in US support of self-determination through rationalist or realist arguments such as power maximization and strategic caution, (i.e. which movements to support and which to ignore) despite the existence of an internalized norm supporting self-determination (Hannum, 2006). These postulations are primarily centered around an explanation that the US gives concrete support signals when the movement it supports is strategically important or when there are material gains to be had. Murphy (1980, p. 43) said that the “quintessential ambiguity” of self-determination, and the multitude of factors taken into US consideration, is the explanation for US variation in support for selfdetermination, a thought echoed by Pomerance (1976, p. 26). Halperin and Scheffer with Small (1996) argued that the failure of the US to develop “a comprehensive set of principles and standards for responding to self-determination movements” (p. 6) has caused selective promotion and is perpetuating violent secession movements. They argue that the US needs a more “systemic approach” (p. 7) to supporting self-determination movements. For example, Kirgis (1994) concluded on several components involved in the the issue of selective promotion and tepidity (p. 308): Support for self-202-
determination movements is inversely correlated to the level of destabilization this movement will cause and the more representative the government, the less likely a destabilizing self-determination claim is to be supported. I argue that these arguments are vague on elucidating the mechanisms at work when the US chooses to implement the norm of self-determination and when it favors other shared understandings in its foreign policies. Kirgis’ position is inadequate, I argue, because the driving forces behind US implementation of self-determination are certainly more complex than considerations of stability. Why is the norm of self-determination implemented by the US sometimes and not others, even though the norm is internalized by the population and the government? Barkin and Cronin (1994) produced one of the few normative arguments regarding selective promotion. They posited the international community will support movements more during worldwide periods where “international norms legitimize states rather than national sovereignty” and ignore movements when the opposite is true; this will then lead to a crisis of normative “reevaluation” for the international community insofar as their priorities between the two are concerned (p. 108). That is to say, the US and other states will shift their support for movements from a right of a particular people or nation to self-determine to one of preserving the national territorial sovereignty of the state. I argue that distilling the underlying mechanisms for state treatment of self-determination movements is significantly more complex, with a multitude of competing mutually-constructed understandings between actors which shape their decisions. The norm of self-determination always remains constant and present in US valuation of international situations. What varies, and what is reflected in the dynamism (i.e. tepidity or outright denial or support) of US attitudes toward disparate selfdetermination movements, is the operationalization and implementation of the norm of selfdetermination. The logic of appropriateness and thus the reordering of priority norms must be examined as causal mechanisms for the issue of selective promotion of self-determination movements, as well as tepidity2 in support. As relevant as the utilitarian explanation for selective promotion is, “a sense of justice may be equally relevant” (Pomerance, 1976, p. 26) in that material gains and relative power are not the only component at play.
III. Framework of Constructivist Theory Constructivism presents the most applicable lens through which to analyze the variance in US support for self-determination. The components of constructivist theory which I will utilize as a lens for this issue are as follows: Interest in identities and how states perceive them; the cycle between actors’ interests, identities, behavior and social context; norm internalization and the logic of appropriateness; and strategic construction (meaning that states have dynamic interests, they can create interests that can shape behavior, and that social context merits what type of behavior.).3 The constructivist theme emphasizes the capacity of discourse to shape how political actors define themselves and their interests, and thus modify their behavior. The concept of identities as having the power to control international agents is important in that the interests and identities of international actors are malleable and they depend on the context in which the actor finds herself. Actors are dynamic and so identity and interests of states change across contexts and over time. In the words of Ba and Hoffmann (2003): At times some states will be security-conscious and power-hungry, not because there is something inherent about states that make them this way, but rather because states learn to be this way by interacting with other states within a specific historical context. (p. 20) These identities are influenced by the social context, meaning that the actions of other actors, as well as established rules of this interaction, are integral in determining actors’ behavior. Rules and ideas are -203-
internalized or ascribed to by people or agents, and greatly influence their actions. Likewise, the logic of appropriateness gives room for choice: Actors base their decisions on parameters that assign identity to certain situations, “assessing similarities between current identities and choice dilemmas and more general concepts of self and situations” (March & Olsen, 1998, p. 951). Actors may face varied and conflicting contexts in each distinct situation, each particular milieu urging for different courses of action based on shared understandings of correct action based on the actor’s identity and the obligations which the identity ascribes to certain circumstances. We ‘explain’ foreign policy as the application of rules associated with particular identities to particular situations. We ‘explain’ behavior by determining the identities that are evoked and the meaning given to a situation. We influence behavior by providing alternative interpretations of the self and the situation. (March & Olsen, 1998, p. 952) This clearly illustrates the theoretical position of constructivism which says that decisions are based on actors’ interpretations of the interior logic of an ideological system and on the interactions within their social context. The conception of national interest becomes further problematized within a constructivist lens, however, and must be understood not in terms of relative material or military strength, but on shared understandings and international constructions of what is good and what is not good for each particular state. The notion of static and material national interests is certainly overemphasized to the detriment of the importance of identity and social understandings: “The pursuit of purpose is associated with identities more than with interests, and with the selection of rules more than with individual rational expectations” (March & Olsen, 1998, p. 951-952). Political actors make decisions based upon socially constructed rules. “The international society as a community of rule followers and role players with distinctive sociocultural ties, cultural connections, intersubjective understandings, and senses of belonging. Identities and rules are constitutive as well as regulative and are molded by social interaction and experience” (March & Olsen, 1998, 952). Finnemore and Sikkink (1998) note that self-determination is “a profoundly normative agenda” (p. 887). Constructivism relies not on an ontological, materialist, power-related explanations of states’ actions, but on the ideas and values behind those actions (Ba and Hoffman 2003). It negates the contradiction in realist thought which says that actors’ actions should not change inherently. Because constructivism asks for the ideational reasons behind states’ decisions, it is the most appropriate lens through which to look at the variation in US support for self-determination. In addition to the significance given to social context and norms in influencing actors’ behavior, many constructivist scholars place emphasis on the language of these actors. Rhetoric can be used to condemn a ‘rebellion’ and the destruction of ‘territorial integrity, stability, or sovereignty’ by a self-determination movement or used to garner support for a “people determining their own destiny.” Constructivism says that norms are directed by speech, and by the significance that speech has on the audience (Zehfuss, 2001, p. 59). Onuf said that “language is both representative and performative. People use words to represent deeds and they can use words, and words alone, to perform deeds” (1989:82 Zehfuss in Fierke & Jørgensen). Kratochwil noted that “Norms are speech acts, and they depend upon successful communication” (as cited in Zehfuss, 2001, p. 66). Actors in the US know that they can direct norms based on rhetorical devices they choose to employ – it is this tenant that distinguishes constructivism from the mute agents of realism and rationalism. These devices give their actions (like condemning a rebellion or aiding in a dissident people’s struggle for democracy) legitimacy among the US population, which I argue has internalized these norms but not arranged them as per the logic of appropriateness. As I show, rhetoric may prove integral to understanding normative motives for international actions, with regards to legitimizing, engaging, and operationalizing norms. This “logic -204-
of appropriateness” gives room for agency: Actors may face varied and complex social rules in each distinct situation, and must then make a decision based on her interpretation within the interior logic of that ideological system and on the interactions within that social context. Constructivism expects that duties, rights, responsibilities, not necessarily utility maximization drives actors.
IV. Theoretical Evaluation In the following section I present US positions regarding several cases of self-determination movements. I argue that constructivist assumptions of the power of identities and how states perceive them; the cycle between actors’ interests, identities, behavior and social context; norm internalization and the logic of appropriateness; and strategic construction, may provide a useful lens to understand the variance in US support of self-determination movements. I will examine the movements in Tibet, and South Ossetia and Abkhazia, and address tepid support for the cases of the Uyghur and Bahraini movements vis-à-vis the above tenants of constructivism. The case of Tibet presents a modern example of concrete US support for a self-determination movement. Not only has the US rhetorically framed the independence movement in Tibet as one of self determination, the US has, for years, actively and verbally supported it. George W. Bush has acknowledged that he “admire[d] the Dalai Lama a lot” (Weiner, 2007) and awarded him the Congressional medal of honor (Naylor, 2007). Congress codified this support in 1991 when it said definitively that “The United States believes that our objectives must include the restoration of human rights of the Tibetan people and their natural right of self -determination” (“Legislation,” 2008). Here, the US has unequivocally established its identity as a paradigm of human rights, and used it to define its position on the movement in Tibet. US behavior in the case of Tibet stems from its interests revolving around the norm of self-determination, which are obviously influenced by the social context (an international system that likewise supports self-determination (Stolberg & Sengupta, 2008). In fact, support for Tibet comes without strategic material and security interests or power incentives, especially because of strained US-China relations. US support for the Tibetan self-determination movement connotes a certain hostility to Chinese regime policies, and which has yielded marked tensions between the two states (Dasgupta, 2012) and (Dhardhowa, 2012). This indicates the implementation of a norm valuing self-determination by the US in the case of Tibet – taking strategic priority over sometimes awkward and “complex relations” with China (Stolberg & Sengupta, 2008). Like Tibet, Kosovo’s independence and US support for it illustrates concrete affirmation of a self-determination movement. In 2008, the US formally recognized Kosovo’s secession, saying “independence is the only viable option to promote stability in the region”(United States recognizes Kosovo, 2008). In the case of Kosovo, the previous involvement of the US in the region during the conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina has established its identity as international arbiter and has likewise reemphasized and adhered to the norm of involvement in the Balkans. This norm has been internalized and codified by the US official recognition of Kosovo as an independent state. However, it must be evaluated whether US attitudes toward Kosovo’s independence are supportive of the norm of selfdetermination, or of stability and strategic interests? The logic of appropriateness would suggest that the norm most evidently underlying this move is one of strategic and “stability” concerns. Indeed, then Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said that “stability” “cannot be seen as a precedent for any other situation”(United States recognizes Kosovo, 2008). Tucker, of the Monkey Cage blog, argues that US support for self determination movements has evolved: “over time principled foreign policy soon enough gave way to Realpolitik and pragmatism”(Tucker, 2010). What they fail to understand, however, is the logic of appropriateness and the strategic normative prioritization allows the US to at times value stability over other norms. In the case of Kosovo, the norm valuing self-determination was not the key consideration for US leaders. -205-
The independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia from Georgia illustrates the dichotomy of US support for self-determination movements. In fact, the US has failed to support South Ossetia and Abkhazia, even though there were strong pleas for support in the 1990s (Hannan, 2008). In fact, the US now blatantly denounces the Russian government’s efforts to negotiate with Ossetia as an independent state, citing it as a threat to international unity: “The United States should urge the European Union, its member states, and the international community to rescind its recognition of the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia” (U.S. Congress, 2009). Daniel Hannan (2008) an English MP, in an article for the Telegraph, puts it right when he says that South Ossetia is “yet another example of how almost no national government is consistent in its attitude to selfdetermination.” Another critique of inconsistency was raised by Russian President Dimitry Medvedev, who has formally recognized the self-determination movements in South Ossetia and Abkhazia (Medvedev, 2008). Medvedev has displayed a nuanced understanding and implementation of the norm of self-determination, as his regime grudgingly supported the independence of Kosovo, and has used this support and the support of the international community, especially the US, of Kosovo to rhetorically trap them into likewise supporting South Ossetia and Abkhazia by comparing the two cases: “In international relations, you cannot have one rule for some and another rule for others” (Medvedev, 2008b). Irregardless of Russia’s support of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, the US has set itself against this movement, which voted in a landslide referendum for secession from Georgia. In the case of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, the identity of the US in this situation is clearly constructed by its interests in maintaining a position of power over Russia, and has thus allowed the US to formulate behavior concerned with strategic objectives of territorial integrity. The situation of South Ossetia and Abkhazia is particularly complex because official US recognition of these territories would undermine the sovereignty of Georgia, would cede a certain level of international territorial control to Russia. The EU likewise denied recognition to South Ossetia and Abkhasia, and said “the power politics of Russia” (“EU,” 2008) were too manipulative. This strategic construction of territorial integrity has created, in this instance, a logic of appropriateness that has internalized shared norms of stability and national interest and ingrained self-determination. Norms of US national interest are, of course, also constructed based on shared understandings between the US and Russia, along with the international community. Such constructions of behavior inform and empower US policies, supported by the international community, to reject Russian influence over former soviet territories (i.e. Georgia and its splinters South Ossetia and Abkhazia). Two instances of US tepidity in its support for self-determination movements are the Uyghur in Xinjiang province, China – a dissident people ignored to an extent by the US, despite the similarities in their cause to that of Tibet (Bork, 2009)4 – and the 2011 uprising in Bahrain. The US has given recognition to the violations against the Uyghur, but has restrained in aid or codified support, despite striking similarities between their case to that of Tibet (Bork, 2009). Tibet, similar to the Xinjiang province, has little strategic importance to the US. Unlike Tibet, the US has labelled the Uyghur dissident movement for independence as terrorists. The Washington Post reports that, “Unlike the Tibetans, though, Uighurs [sic] do not benefit from a well-defined U.S. policy supporting their political rights, autonomy and cultural identity.” In fact, the US has policies for every province in China except Xinjiang. The situation here is not as definitive as a simple case of US denial of support, however, because the US has given recognition to the violations against the Uyghur in several laws which say that the US “should recognize, and seek to ensure, the linguistic, cultural, and religious rights of the Uyghur people of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region.” This paradox between support and total ignoring for the movement of the Uyghur is an example of tepidity. Likewise, as the US sends aid to Egypt’s revolution and bombs in Libya in blatant support of rebel forces there, protests in Bahrain are an example of tepidity as Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was quoted in the New York Times as saying that the US should “express deep concern about recent -206-
events,” while she simultaneously urged “restraint moving forward” (Landler, 2011). Indeed, while the US has overtly aided (sending troops and money) several other self-deterministic movements within the Arab World, Bahrain, the scene of a brutal state-led retaliation against the protesters, has only received non-committal statements from the US. Even though there is strategic importance associated with Bahrain (National Post Staff, 2011), the US continues in halfhearted support/denunciation of crimes.5 The Washington Post says that the US is “obviously watching events from Bahrain and around the region very closely” (Birnbaum, 2011). Secretary of State Hillary Clinton says in the New York Times that the US should “express deep concern about recent events,” but Ms. Clinton urged “restraint moving forward” (Landler, 2011). In fact, President Obama gave “strong support to pro-democracy protests in Egypt and Tunesia” but not to Bahrain even though it is “an important bulwark against Iranian influence in the region” (Quinn, 2011). Even though Bahrain has strategic importance, US supports tepidity. Yet in Libya, where similar strategic interests exist (although they may be slightly bigger and it is out of the Saudi shadow), the US was relatively hasty to join with the international community in signing the UN resolution and in committing military resources toward the support of the nationalist rebellion there. Not only do US actions here prove the existence of the support of a norm of self-determination, they effectively show that it can be relegated to the background of important normative origins of foreign policy. Conflation of support and total denial of support for the Uyghur, Kosovar, and Bahrainis show the existence and support of a norm of self-determination within the US. The inconsistent implementation of the norm of self-determination by the US demonstrates that it can be relegated to the background of foreign policy to be replaced by norms of appropriateness, which are determined by shared, normative understandings of values between the US and other actors.
V. Critique of Theory and Acknowledgement and Engagement of Counterarguments The US has a varying policy in its support of self-determination movements, despite the ingrained nature of the norm, because of its varying implementation of norms depending on the logic of appropriateness. However, there are several counterarguments that can be used to explain certain components of selective promotion. While there may be extreme variation in the implementation of the right to self-determination norm by the US, there is not always a dichotomy between support and denunciation. There is often a halfhearted, or tepid, approach toward support by the US.6 The complex problem of tepidity can be understood using Fearon’s rationalist theory of signaling (1997). In fact, rationalism may provide a gateway into understanding certain components of the puzzle of selective promotion. Fearon might argue that the US does not want to send costly signals by support or denial of certain movements because it wants to maintain the status quo and avoid audience costs. As opposed to the prospect of making threats towards a sovereign state if they do not recognize the self-determination of their people, it may be preferable for the US to ignore the rebellion and maintain the status quo. However, what is it that drives the desires of the US to keep civil relations and avoid provoking a sovereign state by supporting a rebellion? Giving halfhearted (i.e. tepid) support is a strategically ‘safe’ implementation of norms that is influenced by the social context and the perceived identity of the state. Here the implementation, whether of self-determination or of territorial integrity, is simply diluted in order to serve the interests of the US. Tepidity is significant because it argues that states which have arguably internalized certain norms are able to dilute the expression of these norms in their foreign relations. Moreover, constructivists problematize a clearly defined conception of national interests, meaning that conceptions of national interests vary between situations and are based upon shared, contextual understandings between actors. -207-
Material, geostrategic interests of national security, and relative power could arguably be used in justification of strategies of tepidity or denial of support. Realism denies the existence of normative identities and causation or a social context that influences actors’ behavior. Based on the logic of strategic gains and relative power, US support of self-determination movements varies when it best suits the utilitarian interests of the US. Rationalists are usually associated ontologically with material gains (Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998, p. 910), but this is not necessarily the case – utilities can be social and idea-based as well. What realism fails to account for is what drives the importance placed on material gains – it is one thing to say states are only interested in power and quite another to ask why. The answer is a normative one. Constructivism provides a better explanation of selective promotion in that variation in US support, as well as tepidity, can be accounted for through competing norms: Selfdetermination is just as normative as the ontological norm for national security. I argue that the norm of self-determination is engrained and internalized by both population and government and the degree to which the US government chooses to implement the norm (i.e. full, none, some (tepid)) is based on the logic of appropriateness. March and Olsen state that rationalists “tend to see an international system of interacting autonomous, egoistic, self- interested maximizers. Preferences are usually taken as given, and expectations of consequences are taken as determined by the state of the external world and the biases (if any) of the individual” (1998, p. 952). In the case of US support for self-determination movements, shared understandings and ideas create a positivity surrounding national security which constructs it in different ways for distinct situations based on US identity and expectations. The norm of self-determination therefore, exists and is indeed internalized by the US, but based on the complex matrix of preferences and identity, the US may be normatively disposed and compelled to act in a way which compromises its support of a self-determination movement. The question of where strategy and normative context meet (Ba & Hoffmann, 2003, p. 910) is important to understanding that sometimes utilitarian norms will trump ideological ones. Instrumental rationality and strategic interaction play a significant role in highly politicized social construction of norms, preferences, identities, and common knowledge by norm entrepreneurs in world politics. As Ba and Hoffmann (2003) summarized, there are many reasons to conform to a norm, some of which “may be driven by material self-interest,” and which “can often be self-interested” (p. 912). Even though the US may choose to implement a norm which values utility, the norm valuing self-determination is still present.
VI. Rhetoric and Norm Implementation The answer to the puzzle of selective promotion lies in the rhetoric employed by the US government. It is important to distinguish between support by the US government to selfdetermination movements and the rhetoric it uses to either give or deny this support. When the US treats a rebellion as a righteous movement, it is enabled to have legitimacy in supporting it. However, when the US government calls the rebellion illegal, or uses strategic terminology saying that secession would cause more bloodshed or threatens territorial sovereignty or has grave economic implications, the US gains legitimacy in not supporting the movement in question. This legitimacy is given by citizens who have internalized the norm of the right to self-determination, just as they have internalized the norm of human rights and protection of human life. Because constructivists argue that situations are what actors make of them, it can follow that the US accords self-determination status to some groups and not others depending on whether or not the US treats them as a self-determination movement or not. However, there are many different norms that drive US foreign policy decisions. Depending on situational circumstances, one norm may outweigh another (i.e. the US promotes human rights, democracy, and US security and interests). -208-
Here will include a portion of the paper discussing rhetorical action and Schimmelfennig’s (2001) theory, along with a look at Krebs & Jackson (2007) and their theory of rhetorical coercion in light of these discussions about norms, internalization of norms, and US support of self-determination movements. After concluding from these analyses that actors may internalize norms and then selectively repress and engage them, can a counterargument be provided with Krebs & Jackson’s theory which states that actors can be forced to act according to certain norms, regardless of whether or not they are internalized (rhetorical coercion). This section will explore the connections between rhetoric, norm engagement, strategic positioning and audience costs (a la Fearon 1997). Schimmelfennig posits the inadequacy of rationalist, realist, and liberal institutionalist approaches to explaining the change in attitude of EU countries toward the CEE states that wanted to enter the community. He proposes a theoretical construct, rhetorical action, or the strategic use of arguments, which states that rational political actors need legitimacy and must take into account common values and norms but manipulate them through the strategic use of arguments. Can rhetoric and the engagement of norms in international signalling (i.e. tying hands) be used in a persuasive way similar to Schimmelfennig’s conception of rhetorical action? (i.e. “rational political actors need legitimacy and must take into account common values and norms but manipulate them through the strategic use of arguments.”) Rhetoric serves as a legitimizing mechanism for actors. It functions as such by virtue or shared understandings (created by speech) regarding the state of relations. Actors use rhetoric to legitimize actions which would be inappropriate without the rhetoric (i.e. attacking terrorists without putting that group on a national terrorist watch list).
VII. Recommendations to Theoretical Framework and Future Implications and Application Failure of the US to support certain movements is at times seen by the public as the condoning of tyranny (Izzadeen, 2011), and is seen as normatively hypocritical for the US to ignore these movements, especially if they are in contra to dictators and autocrats. There are competing norms that are taken into account by US politicians when they make decisions regarding support for selfdetermination movements, including territorial integrity, nonintervention and sovereignty, and geostrategic positioning. Finnemore emphasized that “claiming that ‘norms matter’ is not enough for constructivists. They must provide substantive arguments about which norms matter as well as how, where and why they matter” (cited in Jørgensen 2001, p. 51). Explaining certain phenomena using normative structures is not as useful as being able to derive concrete theories based on these structures so as to actually predict the behavior of agents. For example, analyzing the above situations involving US support for self-determination movements and deducing that different norms are competing for precedence in US actors’ decisions is the essence of ex post inefficiency. Suzuki noted that “The complexity of the factors involved. . .makes it impossible to recommend rules which would automatically determine the applicability of the right of self-determination” (cited in Paust 1980, p. 11). I recommend that research continue for a method to determine exactly which norms will be most important, under what circumstances, and when. Additionally, there needs to be “criteria, standards, and conventions” (Jørgensen, 2001, p. 52) for empirical research connected to constructivism so as to fully test the application of norms and identities. I propose that future research study the patterns surrounding US support more closely in order to facilitate predictions about US treatment of future self-determination movements. Additionally, I recommend examining what effect this support has on the success of the movements in question. A main problem is that each movement is completely different from the next – it is no wonder the US -209-
has a problem making a consistent policy regarding them. Nevertheless, in future research, I suggest further examination of which norms are more important with regard to treatment of self-determination movements. These findings indicate that some norms are able to trump others, even though all norm options (i.e. self-determination, profit maximization) seem to have been internalized by the actors involved. It seems clear that certain norms beat others, but what is not clear is why this occurs. A mechanism should be developed so as to evaluate why some norms are able to trump others, regardless of internalization. The answer to this may lay in the specified, personal political interests of individual actors, who can then engage and activate certain norms based on their own goals and perceptions. This is an idea which should be explored, but which is definitively beyond the purview of the paper. The answer to the puzzle of selective promotion lies in the rhetoric employed by the US government. It is important to distinguish between support by the US government to selfdetermination movements and the rhetoric it uses to either give or deny this support. When the US treats a rebellion as a righteous movement, it is enabled to have legitimacy in supporting it. However, when the US government calls the rebellion illegal, or uses strategic terminology saying that secession would cause more bloodshed or threatens territorial sovereignty or has grave economic implications, the US gains legitimacy in not supporting the movement in question. This legitimacy is given by citizens who have internalized the norm of the right to self-determination, just as they have internalized the norm of human rights and protection of human life. I posit a normative, constructivist argument is best able to address the varied interests and selective promotion of the US as well as that of tepid support for such movements. Constructivists argue that situations are what we make of them (Wendt, 1992); so it can follow that the US accords self-determination status to some groups and not others depending on whether or not the US treats them as a self-determination movement or not. However, there are many different norms that drive US foreign policy decisions. Depending on situational circumstances, one norm may outweigh another (i.e. the US promotes human rights, democracy, and US safety and interests). In the case of Tibet, the self-determination norm trumps territorial or security norms, but the people of South Ossetia and Abkhasia must endure without the implementation of this norm, because norms of utility have beaten it. This logic of appropriateness dictates to actors which norm will be implemented, based on social context and the relationship of US identity to other actors. The broader implications of this paper suggest that norms can be internalized but not operationalized, and that the importance of norms may be determined by actorsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; rhetoric which engages specific norms on a situational basis. Such a conclusion may be useful in adding another layer to scholarship (see rhetorical coercion) which implicates that norms might not have to be internalized by leaders in order for them to be important factors in their decision-making and international policy formation. The US policy toward self-determination movements is one of variable support, due to changes in implementation of norms. In the light of recent events involving the Arab world, including US support of the people of Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia, the question remaining to be addressed is regarding the specific norms driving the decision to provide assistance. Do the norms at work now value the right of a people to self-determine? Are they norms of stability or territorial integrity? Are they norms valuing utility? As the revolutions and self-determination movements sweep (and/or blow up) the Middle East and Africa at the beginning of 2011, the US must remember the imperative principle of action, a norm which is embedded in its origins, and which it has committed to implementing.
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Reaching and Breaching Peace: The Failings of the Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreements, 1995-2000* Eitan Paul, Georgetown University *Note: This is an abridged version of a thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the award of Honors in International Politics at the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service, Georgetown University, Spring 2012. The abridgement to meet the length requirement of the Walsh Exchange required the excision of large portions of the thesis to the detriment of the organization and argumentation of this paper.
Part I: Research Question and Design Introduction The signing of the Interim Agreement on the West Bank and Gaza Strip in September 1995 was a moment of tremendous hope and optimism. Building on the framework established in the Declaration of Principles, signed two years earlier, the Interim Agreement mapped a path forward to build confidence and trust while increasing Palestinian autonomy and Israeli security. However, when it came to actually implementing the Agreement, both parties hesitated and used the one anotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s various delays and violations to justify reciprocal commitment breaches. In the years that followed, three more agreements were reached in an attempt to implement the Interim Agreement and salvage the Oslo peace process. Each subsequent agreement fell victim to much of the same behavior of cyclical agreement breaching. Every time another breach occurred, trust, and the possibility of a permanent settlement, eroded. This thesis seeks to answer the question, why, from the fall of 1995 to the summer of 2000, did Israeli and Palestinian leaders sign but not fully implement four successive interim agreements (Oslo II1, Hebron Protocol, Wye River Memorandum, and Sharm el-Sheikh Memorandum)? Can political interests explain this pattern of reaching and breaching agreements? Do psychological and social factors, such as deficit of trust, offer any explanatory value? This thesis examines how political interests, psychological factors, and deficit of trust affected Israeli and Palestinian leadersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; decisions to reach and breach interim agreements. I analyze these variables in Part II: Narrative, which divides the period of this study into six intervals. This abridged paper contains three of these six intervals. Part III: Analysis summarizes the findings presented in Part II. Part IV: Conclusions offers renders a final judgment on each hypothesis, explores the implications of the findings, and suggests areas for further research. Relevance The Oslo-era agreements examined in this study attempted to increase Palestinian autonomy while maintaining Israeli security. If successfully implemented, the provisions could have served as powerful confidence-building measures. Successful confidence-building measures can reinforce the -211-
credibility of negotiators and their policies in the eyes of the public and the other party. An ongoing negotiation process, helped by favorable public opinion and international incentives and unimpeded by violence and internal political maneuvering, can foster the mutual trust necessary for a fruitful final status agreement to be reached. While the Oslo process was disrupted by several acute security crises, such as the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin or the 1996 suicide bombings, the levels of violence and political turmoil in the period of this study were far less volatile than those in the early 2000s with the outbreak of the Second Intifada and in 2007-2009 with the Hamas takeover of Gaza and the Gaza War. On whole, violence was relatively low and optimism for the conclusion of a final status agreement was relatively high. In the context of the history of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, the conditions throughout the 1990s were about as ripe as they come for peace. Therefore, a study of this period can reveal the motivations behind political decisions with fewer major events that had the ability to fundamentally change “the game,” such as the collapse at Camp David, the start of the Second Intifada, the election of Hamas, and the Gaza War. Hypotheses Political Interests2 Political leaders routinely assess their political interests as they make important decisions. In the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, much of the literature on the subject highlights the effects of public opinion, violence, internal politics, and international involvement on the peace process.3 However, political interest calculations alone cannot always explain political behavior. This hypothesis holds that the political interests of the Israeli and Palestinian leadership do not explain the aforementioned pattern of reaching and breaching agreements.4 If this argument is correct, I expect to find that the scale and sequencing of four political indicators – public opinion, internal politics, international involvement, and violence – will not correspond with the points at which agreements were reached and breached. Psychological Factors Political leaders are sometimes motivated more by personal convictions than political calculations. For example, Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin went against their immediate political interests, risking their political careers and their lives, when they signed the Camp David Accords and the Egypt-Israel Peace Treaty in 1978 and 1979. This hypothesis maintains that psychological factors, such as the leaders’ personal mindsets explain the political phenomenon of IsraeliPalestinian cyclical agreement making and breaking from 1995 to 2000. This theory is built on the premise that the personalities and individual beliefs of political leaders affect their decision-making. If true, it would follow that the attitudes, perceptions, fears, hopes, and experiences of Yasser Arafat and the Israeli prime ministers can explain their decisions to sign and violate successive interim agreements. Deficit of Trust Many scholars argue that the historic conflict between Israelis and Palestinians going back to the origins of Zionism makes it difficult, if not impossible, for the Israelis and Palestinian people to trust one another and for their leaders to make good on commitments. This theory would contend, therefore that it would be unrealistic for the Israelis and Palestinians to interpret and perform the Oslo-era agreements in good faith, unless Israeli and Palestinian leaders manage transcend historic narratives rife with suspicion and develop genuine trust. Specifically, this hypothesis holds that the level of trust between Yasser Arafat and the Israeli prime minister predicted decisions to reach and breach interim agreements from Oslo II up to Camp David. Methodology5 -212-
I employed congruence method and process tracing to test my hypotheses: First, I measured public support and violence quantitatively with polling data and records of terrorist attacks and military operations respectively and measured internal politics and international involvement qualitatively with speeches, communiqués, and records of incentives and/or threats. Then, I examined these independent variables empirically with elite interviews (Martin Indyk, Robert Malley, Dennis Ross, Aaron David Miller, Daniel Kurtzer, Saab Erekat, Ghaith al-Omari, Jonathan Schwartz, Bruce Riedel, and Joel Singer). I took into account the potential biases that these sources may reflect. I considered how strongly political interests public opinion, violence, Internal Politics, and international involvement), psychological factors, and deficit of trust anticipated the reaching and breaching of interim agreements. To do this, I sought out both expected and potentially surprising evidence from histories, archival documents, interviews, and other sources to assess the relevance of each variable before, during, and after each interim agreement.6 If I found strong correlations between the sequence and values of the four independent variables that constitute my primary hypothesis (public opinion, violence, internal politics, and international involvement) and the reaching and breaching of interim agreements, I decreased my confidence in my political interest hypothesis. If I found strong correlations between the role of psychological factors and/or deficit of trust and Israeli and Palestinian behavior then I increased my confidence in these hypotheses. The degree to which each hypothesis accurately predicted Israeli and Palestinian decisions to reach and breach agreements through a series of 40 cases is summarized in the hypothesis-predicted impact chart in the Appendix.
Part II: Narrative *Interim Agreement, Initial Implementation, and Rabin Assassination: September 1995 – January 1996* Overview Oslo II provided for elections to a Palestinian Council and for a Palestinian Executive President, in addition to the progressive withdrawal of Israeli forces from West Bank towns and the release of Palestinian prisoners. Oslo II mandated four phases of Israeli redeployment: First, Israel would withdraw from Jenin, Nablus, Tulkarm, Qalqilyah, Ramallah, Bethlehem, and four- fifths of Hebron by the end of 1995.7 These cities were to be parts of “Area A” where Palestinians were to have full authority over internal security and civil affairs. “Area B” consisted of all areas of the West Bank (other than those in Area A) that are populated by Palestinians—a total of about 450 towns, villages, refugee camps, hamlets.8 In “Area C,” which consisted of the remainder of the West Bank, Israel was allowed to retain complete territorial jurisdiction. The latter three phases of Israeli redeployment were to occur in three six-month intervals between January 1996 and mid-1997. The further redeployments were to include a “complete redeployment of Israeli military forces from Area B” and “further redeployments from Area C” to either Area A or Area B within the aforementioned eighteen-month period.9 However, the territorial scope of these further redeployments was not specified. The Interim Agreement also called upon Israel to release Palestinian prisoners and committed both sides to taking “all measures necessary […] to prevent acts of terrorism, crime and hostilities directed against each other.”10 Israel released the first stage of prisoners as agreed upon in Oslo II on October 11, 1995. On October 25, Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin began Israel’s withdrawal from Jenin. Ten days later, Rabin was shot and killed by a Jewish religious nationalist, Yigal Amir, as he was leaving a -213-
peace rally. The assassination shocked Israeli society and led to an outpouring of public grief. Rabin’s successor, Shimon Peres, completed the redeployment of Israeli military forces from all of the Palestinian population centers (Area A) in the West Bank mandated by the agreement, except Hebron by December 31, 1995. The PA immediately began to exercise civil and security authority in these areas. On January 20, 1996, the PA held its first elections for the presidency and for seats in the Palestine Legislative Council (PLC), the Palestinian parliament. Yasser Arafat, the Chairman of the Palestinian Liberation Organization became President with 88.2 percent of the vote. Members of Arafat’s Fatah party won 62 of the PLC’s 88 seats. Variable Analysis Political Interest: Public Opinion The majority of Israelis and Palestinians supported the Interim Agreement once it was signed. However, during the Interim Agreement negotiations, public confidence in the Oslo process was low. Moreover, after Oslo II was signed, strong, vocal minorities in both Israel and the Palestinian Territories opposed implementing many of the agreement’s commitments. After the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, most Israelis rallied around Rabin’s peace agenda and most Palestinians remained somewhat optimistic that the peace process could move forward under Shimon Peres. Despite the occurrence of two terrorist attacks in summer 1995, Israeli public support for the peace process did not waver. In a poll taken by the Tami Steinmatz Center for Peace Research at Tel Aviv University conducted in August 1995, one week after a deadly bus bombing in Jerusalem, public confidence in the peace process decreased by only one percentage point.11 This is likely because supporters of the peace process believed that a peace agreement would reduce terrorism while opponents believed that peace talks do not prevent terror.12 However, opponents to the peace process did affect the course of the Oslo II negotiations and the public did not offer Rabin a strong mandate during the agreement’s negotiation. In summer 1995, the “Oslo Index,” which measures Israeli support for and confidence in the Oslo Accords stood around 45 percent.13 According to Itamar Rabinovich, Israel’s Ambassador to the United States from 1993 to 1996, “by the summer of 1995, public disenchantment with the implementation of the Oslo Accords […] began to erode the government’s support base and legitimacy.”14 Joel Singer, the Israeli lawyer for the negotiations acknowledges this reality: “I knew there was significant opposition in Israel to whatever we were doing.”15 William Quandt also argues that an understanding of the limits of public support shaped the positions of both parties: “the Oslo II agreement was, in part, designed to meet the political needs of each side.”16 For example, Arafat ensured that Israel would withdraw from most major Palestinian cities (all except Hebron) prior to the Palestinian elections. Arafat also secured the right of Palestinian residents of Jerusalem to vote in the PA election, a symbolic victory implicitly acknowledging the Palestinian claim to the city. Rabin, on the other hand, ensured that the agreement required further revision to the Palestine National Charter, removing text that called for Israel’s destruction. The agreement also states that “Israelis and Settlements” would remain exclusively under Israeli control during the duration of the interim period. In addition, the agreement forced Arafat to take responsibility to the security of territory under PA jurisdiction and prevent terrorists from planning or conducting attacks from those areas. Nevertheless, once the agreement was signed it enjoyed at least initial popular support from Israelis and Palestinians alike. As Oslo II came into force, the Israeli public’s approval of Yasser Arafat and the Palestinian Authority grew considerably. However, by January 1996, confidence in the overall peace process and the Oslo Agreement was beginning to decline. Decreasing approval of the Rabin and Peres’s Labor Party, following Rabin’s assassination, may help explain declining optimism related to the peace -214-
process. By January 1996, the popularity of the Likud opposition party’s leader, Bibi Netanyahu’s popularity was already on the rise as right-wing opposition to the peace process became more pronounced. Rabinovich recalls an environment permeated with “violent demonstrations, calls for civil disobedience, disruption of public order, and much incendiary rhetoric.”17 Oslo II enjoyed strong popular support among the Palestinians. According to the Center for Palestine Research and Studies, 72.1 percent of Palestinians supported the agreement after it was signed in October 1995.18 70.6 percent of Palestinians offered support to the Oslo II negotiations while they were taking place.19 After the assassination of Rabin, most Palestinians remained optimistic about the peace process with 52 percent believing the process would move forward, 34 percent believing it would not be affects, and only 4.2 percent anticipating that the process would worsen.20 Despite its tragedy, the public reaction to Rabin’s assassination in Israel, as well as the Palestinian Territories may have hastened the implementation of the Interim Agreement. Dan Meridor, a Likud politician who would become Netanyahu’s Finance Minister, believed that Rabin’s assassination created “a shield behind which Rabin’s successor, Shimon Peres could pursue the Rabin legacy, giving him the credibility in Israel that he had always lacked.”21 Indeed, Peres went on to speed up withdrawals from Jenin, Bethlehem, Tulkarm, Nablus, and Qalqilyah, completely nearly all of the Area A and B transfers mandated in Oslo II by early January 1996. Political Interest: Violence Between the signing of the Gaza-Jericho Agreement in May 1994 and the signing of Oslo II in September 1995, eight major Palestinian terrorist attacks were committed by Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), wounding 172 and killing 60 Israeli citizens.22 This affected the course of the Oslo II negotiations but could not prevent them from reaching a successful conclusion. After the Interim Agreement was signed, virtually no acts of violence were committed in Israel or the Palestinian Territories until Rabin’s assassination. Palestinian terrorism in the spring and summer of 1995 forced Rabin to make strong statements and take action to protect Israeli security if negotiations were to continue. According to Daniel Byman, Rabin “tolerated a level of violence that was politically unsustainable and gave Arafat the impression that bloodshed could continue without cost. Ironically Rabin’s approach reduced Arafat’s incentive to go after groups like Hamas.”23 However, in April 1995, Rabin declared that the PA would have to go after terrorist infrastructure for the peace process to continue. He began to realize that he could not make progress toward peace while terrorism remained rampant. In the wake of two suicide bombings on April 9, 1995, Rabin said in an interview with Jerusalem Qol Yisra’el, “this despicable murder by extremist suicide terrorists makes it very difficult for us to see how we can proceed” with the peace process.24 Arafat responded to Rabin’s call. Within 24 hours of the attacks, Arafat arrested more than 200 leaders of Hamas and Islamic Jihad.25 However, Rabin proceeded with caution recalling Arafat’s proclivity for releasing arrested terrorists without trial. Rabin added, “The real test to Arafat’s serious intentions will be his disarming the extremist Islamist movements.”26 Despite the continuation of periodic terrorist attacks, Rabin and Arafat managed to conclude the Interim Agreement. For some, the continuation of terrorist attacks was an indication that a new agreement was needed to clarify Palestinian security obligations. Byman notes, “In contrast to the first Oslo deal, [Oslo II had] a detailed security protocol.”27 Oslo II required Palestinians to “act systematically against all expressions of violence and terror” and cooperate closely with Israeli security services.28 According to a report by Israeli intelligence officials presented on 19 October 1996, a few weeks after Oslo II was signed, “the PA is doing 100 percent more than it did in the past, but that is still 50 percent less than which the PA is capable of.”29 -215-
The lack of violence immediately following the reaching of Oslo II made it easier for both parties to begin implementing their commitments. However, the level of violence changed dramatically in January 1996. On January 5, 1996, Israel assassinated the infamous Hamas bomb maker and operational commander Yahya Ayyash. Ayyash was said to be responsible for the deaths of some 150 Israelis and the injury of nearly 500 more, including seventy murders in the year preceding his death.30 The Ayyash assassination ended a brutal reign terror but ignited a new wave of bloody retributions. Political Interest: Internal Politics For the most part, officials who reported to Rabin, Peres, and Arafat in this period respected their leadership and their peace process decision-making. Their governments were left- wing and receptive to making concessions in the name of peace. However, Rabin and Peres’s coalitions were weak. Arafat similarly enjoyed the respect of most of Fatah and the PLO. However, he knew that he would have to face a vocal and armed opposition in Hamas and Islamic Jihad after signing the Interim Agreement. In Israel, opposition leader, Bibi Netanyahu led a crowd of 20,000 to 30,000 protesters in central Jerusalem on October 5, 1995 in opposition to the signing of Oslo II. Netanyahu told the crowd, “This government does not have a Zionist majority. The Zionist public in Israel has not supported Oslo 2.”31 While polling suggests otherwise, in terms of the composition of the Knesset, Netanyahu may have been correct. Rabin’s coalition consisted of only 58 out of the Knesset’s 120 ministers.32 An additional five Arab Knesset ministers supported Rabin’s government. Without their support, Rabin’s government would have lacked the majority required to stand. The Knesset endorsed Oslo II by the slim majority of 61 to 59, offering Rabin and later, Peres a weak mandate to implement the provisions of the Agreement. In the Palestinian Territories, Arafat succeeded in the dominating the political sphere. This was partially because militant groups like Hamas and Islamic Jihad neither joined the PLO nor contested in the January 1996 legislative elections. This allowed Arafat to win the PA presidency in a landslide while Fatah won an overwhelming majority in the Palestinian Legislative Council. These victories increased Arafat’s legitimacy among Palestinians, which, in turn, made it easier for him to comply with Interim Agreement commitments. Political Interest: International Involvement International involvement in the negotiation, signing, and initial implementation of the Interim Agreement was limited. According to Joel Singer, from the negotiation of the Declaration of Principles through Peres’s defeat (when Singer left the Israeli Foreign Ministry), “American involvement in the negotiations was minimal. [The United States] was never present in the negotiations.” Singer recalls that Washington was “not applying any support or objection… They did not take part directly or indirectly. […] There was no role being contemplated at that time other than to host the signing ceremony and provide together with the EU, and Norway, and the UN, some overall support and as we proceeded to the implementation, to provide financial support to the Palestinians, which the US indeed did graciously.”33 Martin Indyk, the US Ambassador to Israel, also acknowledged, “The deal was done behind our backs. We came in and had to help them implement it but they did it themselves and they preferred to keep it that way. Oslo II […] was negotiated by them and we were only involved as a result of some impasse […]. They were in the mode of dealing with each other and keeping us out.”34 While Dennis Ross, the US Envoy to the Middle East, also acknowledges that “this negotiation was their negotiation,” he does take credit for helping resolve several important disagreements: “Uri [Savir] and Abu Ala tr[ied] increasingly to get me to produce from the other what they could not produce on their own.” Ross threatened to stop working with either party -216-
“unless they would simultaneously present their respective packages.” He also warned, “if we did not complete the agreement before the end of the month, Congress would not extend the waiver that permitted us to maintain an office for the PLO in Washington.”35 The support of regional players helped legitimize the agreement and create additional momentum to begin implementing it. King Hussein of Jordan, along with the United States, Russia, the European Union, Canada, and Japan invited Israel the Palestinians, and Arab countries to attend an Economic Summit in Amman one month after the signing of Oslo II. In January 1996, a ministerial-level Conference on Assistance to the Palestinian People was held in Paris, further demonstrating a commitment on the part of the international community to the nascent Palestinian Authority and to the peace process. In the wake of the Rabin assassination, senior American officials sought to sure up support for Rabin’s successor, Shimon Peres, and for the peace process. In December 1995 and January 1996, Special Middle Easy envoy Dennis Ross, Secretary of State Warren Christopher, and Vice President Al Gore visited Israel. Psychological Factors By the time Israeli and Palestinian officials began negotiating Oslo II, Arafat had demonstrated through words and actions a somewhat hesitant and skeptical attitude toward the Oslo Accords. Nevertheless, Arafat signed the agreement and began to fulfill Palestinian commitments. Yitzhak Rabin, on the other hand, is characterized as having truly believed in the peace process and its ability to advance Israel’s security interests. Shimon Peres was known as even more of an optimist than Rabin, perhaps helping to explain his willingness to complete most of the first phase of West Bank reemployments on time. In April 1995, amidst negotiations, Arafat compared the Oslo Accords to the temporary truce between the Prophet Muhammad and the Qureish tribe, which was later broken.36 This statement and others like it legitimized the belief that Arafat was a revolutionary at heart who did not necessarily interpret the interim agreements as vehicles to move towards a permanent, two- state settlement. However, the passage of Oslo II and the dramatic improvement of Palestinian commitment compliance that followed suggest Arafat was willing to be a serious and honest participant in the peace process. Much has been written about Yitzhak Rabin’s remarkable stoicism—his credible and unwavering commitment to pursuing peace with the Palestinians and maintaining Israel’s security. Rabin was succeeded by a leader who was equally if not more committed to peace. As Madeleine Albright notes in her memoir, “It was Peres who had initially launched the Oslo negotiations and who had always been more optimistic about peace than Rabin. […] Peres truly believed Israel might one day live surrounded by friends.”37 This optimistic outlook on the peace process helps explain the zeal with which Peres pursued the implementation of the Interim Agreement. Deficit of Trust In the summer of 1995, relations between Israel and the Palestinians were tepid. Rabin acknowledged that in order “to overcome the high and thick walls of suspicion and hatred is much more complicated than to solve the practical elements that are needed to reach peace.”38 However, throughout Rabin’s tenure, trust between him and Arafat grew. By the time of the negotiation of Oslo II, Rabin and Arafat were beginning to trust each other as partners. In Missing Peace, Ross notes, “Rabin had come to appreciate Arafat, believing that he was taking steps that were hard for him.”39 According to Ghaith al-Omari, “A big part of the progress under Rabin was based on a degree of trust. Arafat didn’t really like Rabin and vice versa. There was no particular mutual respect but there was a sense of ‘okay, we’re in this together; we’re both invested in it.’”40 -217-
The Amman Economic Summit helped bolster Arab-Israeli economic ties, further expanded trust. On October 31, Yossi Beilin (Israel’s deputy foreign minister and driving force behind the Oslo negotiations) and Abu Mazen (Secretary-General of the PLO and top Palestinian negotiator) completed a secret effort on permanent status issues, “which showed that even the most existential issues could be resolved.”41 The successful conclusion of the Interim Agreement negotiations and drafting of the Beilin-Abu Mazen document reflected a high degree of trust between the Israeli and Palestinian governments and growing trust between the Israeli and Palestinian peoples. *Four Bombs in Nine Days and Increased Cooperation: February – May 1996* Overview Following the assassination of Hamas bomb-maker Yahya Ayyash on January 5, 1996, Israel was struck with a wave of four brutal attacks in nine days, which killed sixty-three Israelis. The first two suicide bombings, perpetrated by Hamas, occurred on February 25 on a bus in Jerusalem and at a bus stop in Ashkelon. Eight days later Hamas conducted another suicide bus bombing in Jerusalem. The next day, Islamic Jihad performed a suicide bombing in a mall in Tel Aviv. Following this string of attacks, Arafat began his most serious crackdown on Palestinian militants to date. Peres, trying to prove his security credentials also responded with strong words and actions against Palestinian terrorism and delayed the redeployment of Israeli troops from Hebron mandated in Oslo II, which was to have taken place by March 28, 1996. Despite the violence, several Oslo II measures were implemented in this period. In April, the Palestinian National Council voted to amend the Palestinian Covenant to remove language calling for Israel’s destruction and final status talks began on schedule in May where both parties reaffirmed their commitments under the Declaration of Principles and the Interim Agreement in a Joint Communiqué.42 However, Israeli trust in Peres waned, paving the way for Bibi Netanyahu to win the May prime ministerial election. Variable Analysis Political Interest: Public Opinion Immediately following the February/March Palestinian armed attacks in Israel, the majority of Israelis and Palestinians continued to support the peace process. Palestinians overwhelming condemned the violence while many Israelis called for delaying West Bank withdrawals until the security situation improved. According to polling conducted by Tel Aviv University’s Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace research, the February/March attacks failed to shake public confidence in the peace process. In March 1996, support for and confidence in the Oslo Treaty remained stable at 50.5 percent, compared to 50.4 percent in February 1996. Israel support for the overall peace process actual increased from 58.6 percent in February to 62.5 percent in March.43 By the time final status talks were set to begin in May, the Israeli “negotiations index” rose to 66.3 percent.44 Palestinian support for the continuation of negotiations also remained strong, despite Israeli measures such as closures and raids taken in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks. Palestinian approval of the peace process in March 1996 reached 78 percent up from 66 percent the previous year.45 In addition, only 21 percent of Palestinians supported the February/March suicide attacks carried out by Hamas and Islamic Jihad; 70 percent opposed the attacks.46 A plurality of Palestinians also supported the amendment of the Palestinian National Charter but a sizable minority opposed this action.47 However, the polling data does not seem to capture visceral impact these attacks had on the public’s psyche. Uri Savir notes, “the public’s response was […] much stronger in this latest round [of attacks]. Fear turned almost into a collective phobia that some expressed through near hysteria and others through -218-
withdrawal into silence.”48 Israeli protesters lined the streets, heckling Peres and the peace process and calling for revenge. Savir described the Israeli public as having “lost its self-confidence and its faith in the peace process.”49 In the Palestinian Territories, Fatah supporters held pro-peace demonstrations, condemning terrorism and Hamas.50 Ghaith al-Omari credits public opinion for lowering the cost of implementation for crackdown on Hamas following the four bombings in nine days: “After the bus bombings there was a lot of public resentment vis-à-vis Hamas because the peace process was progressing, Israel was going through a major crisis. The public felt that Hamas was derailing something that was working. And, as such, when you tried to go after Hamas and other terrorists, you had public support.”51 While the attacks gave Arafat political cover to increase security cooperation, they made it more difficult for Peres to complete the first phase of redeployments. According to Joel Singer, Peres wanted to wait to redeploy from Hebron until after the election. By waiting, he thought he could “ensure his election.”52 Political Interest: Violence The February/March attacks represented the highest level of violence since the Oslo process began in 1993. In response, Israel and the Palestinian Authority began to implement a series of farreaching security measures—closing roads, arresting militants, and confiscating arms. While Hamas and Islamic Jihad were far from defeated, Israeli and Palestinian counterterrorism in this period had never been more active and robust. After the first two attacks on February 25 in Jerusalem and Ashkelon, the PA arrested over 250 Islamists associated with Hamas by February 29, 1996. Arafat also issued a directive requiring all unlicensed weapons to be turned in to police by March 2, 1996. Senior PA Police Officer Abdel Raziq al Majaydah pledged on Israel Radio that after March 2 “anybody in possession of unlicensed weapons will be brought to trial.”53 Palestinian Police Commander Ghazi Jabali announced that his men would proactively “conduct raids and searches next week” to search for illegal weapons. However, as Matthew Levitt notes, Palestinian actions were only “skin deep, targeting peripheral activists to showcase action rather than central figures to prevent attacks.”54 Palestinians such as Arafat advisor Ahmed Tibi, however, asserted that “at least five certain, horrible incidents were prevented this past year thanks to the PA’s activity.”55 However, Israeli officials were not satisfied with the level Palestinian participation in counterterrorism efforts. Israel declared a total closure of the West Bank and Gaza Strip and conducted raids looking for Hamas and Islamic Jihad terrorists throughout Gaza and the West Bank.56 Israeli authorities urged Arafat to follow their lead and conduct a concerted crackdown of their own. However, bolstered Israeli and PA security measures failed to prevent a Hamas bus bombing in Jerusalem on March 3, which killed 19 people. Following this attack, Prime Minister Peres pledged a “total war against Hamas and other terrorist organizations” that would crush Hamas “to its very foundations.”57 He also tightened the closure of the Gaza Strip and instituted a policy of “separation” in which Palestinians would only with a special permit through specified crossing points.58 But before these measures had time to take effect, an Islamic Jihad suicide bombing killed 14 people and injured 130 more in Tel Aviv’s popular Dizengoff Center shopping district. According to Levitt, “in the wake of this fourth bombing, Israel and the PA both engaged in unprecedented crackdowns on Hamas and Islamic Jihad.”59 Dennis Ross lauds Arafat’s efforts in the period following the four bombings in nine days: “Arafat had directed the most severe crackdown on Hamas and Islamic Jihad since the advent of Oslo. He had replaced many of the imams […] and arrested many of the leaders even of the military wing of Hamas. He had permitted real security cooperation with the Shin Bet to continue. […] he was not giving Bibi an excuse on security.”60 -219-
According to Martin Indyk, after the four bombings in nine days (February 25 – March 4, 1996), Uri Savir drafted a security protocol with US officials, “a kind of annex to the Oslo agreements for security cooperation, which the Palestinians then essentially signed on to.”61 The protocol articulated areas for the various PA security organizations to coordinate with the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and the Shin Bet (Israel’s internal security service responsible for the Palestinian Territories) to counter terrorism. Indyk identifies this protocol as “the beginnings of quite robust security coordination.”62 According to Indyk, the PA implemented the measures recommended in the protocol and terrorism began to decline. “Palestinian security forces under the control of Mohammed Dahlan did do an effective job of arresting Hamas people involved in terrorism,” Indyk says. Once arrested, the PA treated Hamas terrorists “quite badly.”63 The scope of this crackdown and the treatment of prisoners were brutal but effective. Political Interest: Internal Politics In the Palestinian Authority, the internal political climate facilitated Arafat’s ability to expand its against Palestinian militants. In Israel, however, internal politics constrained Peres’s ability to perform the Hebron redeployment on time. In December 1995, Arafat and Hamas had agreed to a tacit truce whereby “Arafat would move forward with negotiations and Hamas would not formally renounce violence.”64 Arafat understood that while maintaining good relations with Hamas deeply upset the Israelis, it also helped hide deep fractions in Palestinian society and forestall civil unrest. However, after the February/March bombings, Arafat feared that allowing Hamas to perpetrate acts of terrorism with impunity could help Netanyahu win in the May 29 prime ministerial elections. With this in mind, in April, Arafat asked Hamas to suspend military operations until May 30, the day after the Israeli elections.65 In exchange, Arafat offered to release several imprisoned Hamas and Islamic Jihad activists. Arafat also offered to allow Hamas to carry out its activities within areas under PA jurisdiction and to freeze the PA’s decision to disband the military organizations of the resistance factions as long as Hamas is committed to the agreements with the PA.66 To the Israeli government, this was a clear violation of the Interim Agreement but for Arafat, it was shrewd politics. However, the lack of trust between Arafat and Hamas made intra-Palestinian negotiations difficult. In an April PA cabinet meeting, PA secretary Tayeb Abdel-Raheem quoted Arafat as saying that he no longer trusted Hamas to control its armed wing: “Hamas has tried more than once to conduct a coup d’état against Palestinian legitimacy.”67 On April 21, Gaza police arrested six members of a “secret wing” of Hamas who allegedly plotted to kill Arafat. Arafat waved a document before the Palestinian Council, which he said showed Hamas activists in Jordan were giving orders, which amounted to “a declaration of war” against the PA.68 Hamas’s refusal to recognize Arafat’s legitimacy provoked Arafat to begin taking more serious action against them. Most of the Fatahdominated Palestinian Legislative Council was sympathetic toward Arafat’s crackdown on Hamas. However, in Israel, the internal political dynamics made it more difficult for Peres to follow through with his Interim Agreement commitments. After the February/March attacks, Peres was left with little political wiggle room to follow through with outstanding Israeli commitments under Oslo II, namely the redeployment from Hebron. Peres’s government maintained the same weak composition as that of his predecessor with only 52.5 percent of the Knesset behind him. Had Peres tried to redeploy from Hebron after the February/March bombings, his government may not have lasted up until the May elections. Political Interest: International Involvement The United States was well aware that the February/March bombings could easily unravel both the Peres government and the entire peace process. So the Clinton administration organized a multinational summit in Sharm el Sheikh to build support for combating terrorism pushing the -220-
peace process forward. 29 world leaders came to the Summit of the Peacemakers on March 13, 1996, including representatives of 14 Arab states. This was the first time the Arab world stood with Israel in condemning terrorism and committing to combat it. The Summit produced a series of measures aimed at combating terrorism, including training, intelligence sharing, law enforcement, and targeted sanctions. On March 13, President Clinton flew to Tel Aviv to discuss specific steps the United States could take to help the Israeli military and police. In a meeting with Prime Minister Peres and his cabinet, Clinton pledged $100 million in support and asked Warren Christopher and CIA director John Deutch to stay in Israel to accelerate the implementation of joint US-Israeli efforts.69 However, according to Dennis Ross, “Arab participants limited their involvement [in implementing these measures] on the grounds that peace with Israel had to come first.”70 Nevertheless, strong condemnations of “all acts of terror” and commitments to increase the “coordination of efforts to stop acts of terror” by President Clinton and Arab leaders offered Peres a temporary boost in strength and legitimacy.71 According to Martin Indyk, after the four bombings, the United States increased its oversight of and coordination with Palestinian security efforts out of “concern […for] Peres’s standing and the way that it would affect his election possibilities.”72 The Palestinian Authority regarded increased US participation as a major victory. This increased level of US involvement in security coordination constituted an important shift in the Washington’s involvement in the peace process. According to Indyk, when the Israelis turned to US officials to draft the security protocol, “suddenly it became a trilateral process.” “As a result of [the February 25 – March 4] terrorist attacks, now [PA] security organizations got relationships with the CIA – training, money, access and we got more and more deeply involved in building their capacity.”73 Indyk credits increased US involvement for improved PA security cooperation after the bombings: “We were now engaged and we were pushing Bibi to implement Oslo. In order to keep us engaged, they understood that there were some requirements. Their incentive was the way that it helped to curry favor with us and get out involvement with them and our support for their positions in the negotiations with Netanyahu.”74 Psychological Factors The February/March bombings tested not only the durability of the peace process but also the honesty and tenacity of its leaders. While Peres was generally perceived as a dovish prime minister, in the face of Israeli carnage, his strong sense of patriotism led him to lead a strong response to protect Israel’s security. However, most psychological analysis from this period focuses on the intentions of Yasser Arafat before and after the attacks. Martin Indyk believes that Arafat knew that the bombings would occur. Arafat viewed the attacks “as just part of the game.”75 According to Indyk, Israel’s targeted killing of Yahya Ayyash, the chief Hamas bomb-maker and leader of the West Bank battalion of Hamas’s military wing, triggered the suicide bombings and Arafat “knew that they were going to happen.”76 Indyk alleges that Arafat told Terje Rød-Larsen [the United Nations Secretary- General’s Special Coordinator in the Occupied Territories] “to get out, trouble was coming and ‘don’t go to Jerusalem entirely.’” “I don’t think Arafat was complicit in it but he didn’t stop it,” says Indyk.77 Regardless, Arafat’s actions after the attacks showed a sudden willingness to confront terrorism more actively and robustly. The decision to increase counterterrorism measures was likely informed by Arafat’s spirit at the time. He was still optimistic about advancing the peace process with Peres and still thinking about his late partner, Yitzhak Rabin. The assassination of Rabin elicited a strong emotional response from Arafat, which may have affected Arafat’s willingness to take measures to protect Israel’s security after the February/March bombs. According to Daniel Kurtzer, “The Rabin assassination hit [Arafat…] hard -221-
enough that when there were the four suicide bombings in the spring of 1996, he acted against Hamas. That’s the only time that he took seriously the need to go after the Hamas infrastructure. This shows he had the capacity to do something when he wanted to but the reason he didn’t do it other times is that he was not persuaded that he was getting what he needed from the Israeli side.”78 Deficit of Trust The level of trust between Shimon Peres and Yasser Arafat can help explain both Israeli and Palestinian behavior in the aftermath of the bombings. Joel Singer claims that Arafat agreed to the delay in the Hebron redeployment “because he trusted Peres.”79 Arafat had been working with Peres for several years at this point while Peres served as Rabin’s foreign minister. Peres played a critical role in the negotiation of Oslo II and had completed redeployments from the other Palestinian cities on time. On this record and Peres’s word, Arafat had good reason to believe that Israel would complete the Hebron withdrawal after May 29, should Peres win the election. The established trust between Peres and Arafat made it easier for both leaders to coordinate security measures after the attacks. *Hebron Reach Followed by Many a Breach: January 1997 – October 1998* Overview Redeployment from Hebron was more complicated than withdrawals from other Palestinian cities because 400 religious Israeli settlers live in the heart of the city and the Cave of the Patriarchs, one of the holiest Jewish sites is located there. Oslo II required Israel to redeploy from most of Hebron by March 28, 1996 (six months after the signing of the agreement).80 However, following the February/March suicide bombings, the Peres government decided to delay the redeployment. The Interim Agreement allowed Israeli military to stay in about 20 percent of the city’s territory to protect the Israeli settlers. This section of the city, which included 20,000 Palestinians was referred to as H-2. The other part, in which approximately 120,000 Palestinians reside, was H-1. Netanyahu and Arafat disagreed over whether the Israeli military could reenter H-1, whether there should be a buffer zone between H-1 and H-2, and how security and civil affairs would be administered in H-2. On January 15, 1997, the parties reached an agreement on the withdrawal of Israeli forces from most of Hebron. The Protocol Concerning the Redeployment in Hebron was accompanied by a two-page “Note for the Record,” prepared by US negotiator Dennis Ross, in which each side reaffirmed some of its central obligations under the Interim Agreement.81 In this document, Israel pledged itself to a new timetable for further redeployment: “The first phase of redeployments will be carried out during the first week of March” 1997.82 Israel also committed to deal with the release of political prisoners and renew negotiations on all disputed subjects. The Palestinians committed themselves to formalizing amendments to the Palestinian Covenant to remove calls for Israel’s destruction, to combat terror and incitement, and to confiscate illegal arms. After the Hebron Protocol was signed, Secretary of State Warren Christopher sent a letter to Netanyahu pledging US commitment to Israel’s security and calling for Israel to complete all redeployments by the middle of 1998.83 Israel completed its redeployment from Hebron on January 17, 1997. Secretary Warren Christopher’s letter to Netanyahu following the signing of the Hebron Protocol called upon Israel to complete all three phases of further redeployments “no later than mid-1998.”84 For the first redeployment scheduled for March 1997, Netanyahu offered 2 percent— an offer Arafat immediately rejected as an insult. -222-
On February 26, 1997, Netanyahu approved the construction of a Jewish neighborhood at Har Homa, in the southern part of East Jerusalem. Construction commended on March 18. This fateful decision would lead to the total cessation of talks with the Palestinians. After the decision was made, Arafat refused any attempt by Netanyahu to meet.85 On March 21, 1997, a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv killed three Israelis. Netanyahu accused Arafat of having given a “green light” to the attack. This compounded tensions between Israel and the PA caused by redeployment delays and settlement construction in East Jerusalem On July 30, two consecutive Hamas suicide bombings killed 15 and injured over 170 Israelis in a Jerusalem market. In response, Netanyahu closed the West Bank and Gaza Strip and withheld some $50 million in tax revenue owed to the Palestinian Authority. In September 1997, the Israeli government reopened the West Bank and Gaza Strip and released 50 percent of the withheld PA funds. Also that month, Netanyahu vetoed an Israeli housing project in East Jerusalem, which had been anticipated to cause disruption in the peace process. On October 8, 1997, Arafat and Netanyahu had their first direct discussions in eight months at the Erez crossing between Israel and Gaza. However, this meeting and subsequent talks failed to advance the implementation of outstanding commitments in the Interim Agreement and Note for the Record. In May and June 1998, relations between Israel and the Palestinians deteriorated further. On May 26, major clashes erupted in East Jerusalem after a Jewish settler organization began construction work on a settlement on disputed territory in the Arab quarter of the city. On June 21, the Israeli Cabinet approved a draft plan to widen Jerusalem’s municipal boundaries, angering Palestinians, Arab states, and much of the international community. In July 1998, Israeli and Palestinian negotiations held their first direct peace talks for some 16 months. However, the talks failed to secure agreement on redeployment. In September 1998, the United States convinced Israeli and Palestinian leaders to attend a tripartite peace summit at the Wye River Plantation in Maryland in mid-October to resolve the redeployment issue and other outstanding interim commitments. Variable Analysis Political Interest: Public Opinion The Hebron Protocol enjoyed sweeping support in Israel. Two-thirds of Israel’s Jewish public endorsed the agreement.86 The majority of Palestinians also supported the agreement with 61 percent in favor and only 21 percent opposed.87 However, after a botched Mossad assassination attempt of the Hamas leader Khaled Mashal on September 25, 1997, polls in Israel indicated that the public was increasingly dubious about Netanyahu’s competence and neither felt secure nor had much hope that he could make any progress on peace.88 However, the overall negotiations index showed little movement, vacillating between 59 and 64 points.89 In this period, Palestinian support for the peace began to decline. In March 1996, Palestinian support for armed attacks against Israel was only 21 percent.90 By October 1998, in the weeks leading up to the Wye River negotiations, Palestinian support for violence rose to 51 percent.91 The Har Homa settlement construction, tightened security measures imposed by Israel, and the failure to complete further redeployments help explain this dramatic change in public opinion. Despite high support for violence, Palestinian support for the peace process remained relatively high – between 56 and 73 percent in the period between the signing of the Hebron Protocol and Wye River.92 Political Interest: Violence Ironically, the severity of violence stemming from the tunnel incident actually precipitated a return to the negotiating table. According to Aaron Miller, the Hebron Protocol “grew out of the -223-
[Hasmonean] Tunnel incident.”93 Dennis Ross agrees: “Bibi, after the tunnel incident realized that everything could fall apart and wasn’t ready to be the prime minister that let everything fall apart.”94 Ross acknowledges that Netanyahu could have used the killing of an Israeli soldier by Palestinian policemen in Nablus after the Hasmonean Tunnel incident as an excuse to give up on the Oslo peace process. But instead, “he had declared himself ready to launch negotiations on Israeli redeployment from Hebron—one of the Interim Agreement requirements most opposed by his Likud Party base.”95 Amidst the Hebron negotiations, Netanyahu was concerned that a terrorist attack could unravel talks: “Bibi was constantly harping on intelligence information about an imminent terrorist threat that would thwart the whole process.”96 No such attack occurred and the Hebron redeployment took place without incident. However, peace and optimism emanating from the Hebron withdrawal was short-lived. The March 21 bombing and Israel’s inculpation of the PA in the attack exacerbated an already deteriorating relationship between Netanyahu and Arafat stemming from the Har Homa construction. However, on April 11, Israeli and Palestinian police cooperated to apprehend the Hamas cell responsible for the attack.97 Israel’s closure of the West Bank and Gaza Strip and withholding of PA taxes, which arguably constituted a breach of Oslo agreements, was a direct response to the July 30 Hamas attack in Jerusalem. Hamas conducted another major terrorist attack on September 4, 1997, which killed four and wounded over 181 in a Jerusalem mall. However, Israel’s response to this attack was not as strong. In fact, Netanyahu continued to ease restrictions on Palestinian movement in the Occupied Territories and release withheld PA moneys. Nevertheless, Netanyahu made clear that he would not make any new “concessions in the face of terror; indeed, even if he wanted to, it was politically impossible.”98 Following the attack, Abu Mazen acknowledged, “the Palestinian Authority had no choice but to act against Hamas.”99 Arafat followed through and began arresting “the sharks, not the sardines” of Hamas and Islamic Jihad. Following this crackdown, no more Palestinian terrorist attacks were committed for nearly a year. Political Interest: Internal Politics Amidst the Hebron negotiations, Netanyahu felt significant pressure from his party, cabinet, and coalition to give as little as possible. According to Rabinovich, “the security arrangements detailed in the [Hebron] protocol were different enough from past ones to enable Netanyahu to argue that he had obtained a better, indeed satisfactory regime in Hebron.”100 However, selling the Hebron deal to the Israeli right was not an easy task. The cabinet meeting to approve the Protocol was extremely divisive, lasting fifteen hours.101 A number of key figures in the Likud and in the Netayahu’s government coalition denounced the Hebron Protocol. Science Minister Benjamin Ze’ev Begin charged that the old pattern of one-sided implementation was continuing. Begin warned that, “If we give in on Hebron, who can guarantee that we will not capitulate elsewhere and reward Arafat for terror and violations of the agreement?”102 Infrastructure Minister (and future foreign and prime minister. Ariel Sharon threatened to lead a campaign against the Hebron Protocol, which he described as “a deal that endangers the lives Israelis.”103 Netanyahu’s decision to go through with the Hebron redeployment in spite of the serious division it created within his party, cabinet, and coalition demonstrated a belief that salvaging the peace process was important, even at the expense of alienating his base. It should be noted, however, that while redeployment from Hebron was unpopular within much of Israel’s right wing, the Hebron Protocol was approved in the Knesset by an overwhelming 87 to 17 margin. In the face of increased terrorism and calls for more sizable redeployments after the signing and initial implementation of the Hebron Protocol, Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition became even less forgiving. Rabinovich notes, “even if Netanyahu wanted to go through with genuine -224-
implementation of the Hebron accords [and Note for the Record], he might not have had a working majority in his cabinet and coalition.”104 Former Prime Minister Menachem Begin’s son and member of Netanyahu’s party and cabinet, Benny Begin, resigned after the agreement was signed in protest of giving up land in the West Bank. Other right-wing members of Netanyahu’s coalition, such as the National Religious Party threatened to topple the government if Netanyahu agreed to further territorial withdrawals. In June 1997, Finance Minister Dan Meridor resigned followed by Foreign Minister David Levy in January 1998. Moderates also began to distance themselves from Netanyahu, believing that he had no intention of implementing outstanding Israeli commitments under the Interim Agreement articulated in the Note for the Record attached to the Hebron Protocol. In order to appease the right-wing members of his coalition, Netanyahu felt he needed to approve the construction of a major Jewish settlement in East Jerusalem (Har Homa). The Palestinians considered this a provocative act, which constituted a breach of Oslo I and II.105 The PA responded by suspending negotiations with Israel. In The Missing Peace, Dennis Ross recounts Dore Gold’s insistence that a further redeployment of 10 percent or more “would be very, very difficult.” “I cannot get it through the government. I cannot push something I know will be rejected,” Gold said.106 In Bill Clinton’s autobiography, he adds, “Netanyahu was constrained politically in what he could do beyond the Hebron deal. […]The hard-liners in his coalition […] were making it difficult for him to keep moving toward peace by opening the Gaza airport or even letting all the Palestinians from Gaza come back to work in Israel.”107 In reference to the Har Homa settlement project, Clinton notes, “Every time Netanyahu took a step forward, as with the Hebron agreement, his governing coalition made him do something that drove a wedge between Israel and the Palestinians.”108 Political Interest: International Involvement In this period, the United States had mixed results in its efforts to keep the peace process on track. The United States played a critical role in the reaching of the Hebron Protocol but President Clinton was unable to stop Netanyahu from approving the Har Homa construction despite three attempts.109 US diplomacy in September 1997 did help quell some of the agitation caused by settlement construction and terrorist attacks, however. Shortly after Madeleine Albright’s first visit to Israel and the Palestinian Territories as Secretary of State (September 10-12, 1997), summer tensions began to thaw. Arafat arrested militants and closed a television station that incited hatred toward Israelis. Albright also credits her trip for convincing Israel to release half of the withheld PA customs revenue. After her visit, despite the September 4 terrorist attack, Israel eased security closures and both parties stepped up their security cooperation.110 However, despite these positive steps, negotiations through the end of 1997 failed to bridge the recurring impasse over the nature of Israel’s further redeployments. In January 1998, during a visit to the United States, Netanyahu held talks with President Clinton, at which he reportedly rejected US proposals for a second-stage redeployment of forces from 10%-15% of West Bank territory, proposing instead redeployment from no more than 9.5% of the territory. Later that month, Secretary Albright visited the region and held talks with Netanyahu and Arafat. However, she failed to bridge disagreements over the further redeployments the effort failed to restart the peace process. In March 1998, the British Foreign Secretary, Robin Cook, visited the Middle East on a tour intended to raise the profile of the European Union in the peace process. During his time in the region, Cook made a controversial visit to the Har Homa settlement. In April 1998, Prime Minister Tony Blair undertook a tour of the Middle East region during which he invited Arafat and Netanyahu to attend a ‘summit’ for peace in London in early May. During his visit, Blair signed a EU-Palestinian security agreement. However, European diplomatic efforts failed to bring the parties -225-
any closer to an agreement on the further redeployments, which continued to be the most significant obstacle in the peace process. In early May 1998, Albright held separate talks with Netanyahu and Arafat, in London. No significant progress was made and although both parties were invited to Washington, DC, for further talks, Netanyahu declined to attend since the talks were made conditional on Israeli support for a US plan for a 13.1% redeployment in the West Bank. In July 1998, the United Nations voted to upgrade the status of the PLO at the UN to allow for greater participation. Israel and the United States strongly objected to this move. Throughout the summer, Dennis Ross continued to shuttle between Jerusalem and Ramallah in hopes of settling the redeployment question but little progress was made until the breakthrough at Wye River in October 1998. Psychological Factors Palestinian terrorism clearly increased the political cost of implementing outstanding Israeli commitments outlined in the Note for the Record, especially within Netanyahu’s right- wing cabinet. However, Netanyahu admitted to Madeleine Albright that, in addition to political constraints, “his conscience would [not] allow him to turn over additional land, except in return for real peace.”111 Itamar Rabinovich agrees noting that Netanyahu “fought to recast [Israeli commitments at Oslo II] in terms that would be or at least appear to be new and more congruent with his own outlook” in the negotiation of the Hebron Protocol and “Note for the Record.”112 According to Madeleine Albright, Netanyahu “could be both disarming and somewhat disingenuous. We would think we had reached an understanding and were moving toward an agreement, only to find that that wasn’t his intention at all.” Albright recalls a theory that Netanyahu “was trying to curry favor with his father, who had supposedly preferred his older brother, a hero slain while commanding the famous Raid on Entebbe. The senior Netanyahu was a devoted disciple of a hard-line ideology known as Revisionist Zionism, which his son also seemed to embrace.”113 Whether or not that particular theory is true, Netanyahu’s personal history and ideology clearly influenced his decision-making in this period. Deficit of Trust Laura Zittrain Eisenberg and Neil Caplan attribute the arduous nature of the Hebron negotiations to “the acrimony, distrust, and bad faith” felt between Netanyahu and Arafat.114 After the Hebron Protocol, Netanyahu was prepared to give up on the interim process altogether. Recognizing the distance between the Israeli and Palestinian interpretation of the scope of Israeli further redeployments, Netanyahu proposed forgoing continued implementation of Oslo II in favor of final status negotiations. Netanyahu convinced Secretary Albright that incremental process was not succeeding in building confidence. However, Arafat and other Arab leaders were not persuaded that Netanyahu was genuinely interested in reaching a comprehensive permanent agreement. According to Rabinovich, they “had no trust in Netanyahu and his government, and they saw his offer as a transparent maneuver to extricate himself from the Oslo commitments.”115 Israeli settlement construction in East Jerusalem and Palestinian terrorist attacks in the spring of 1997 also significantly eroded trust between Netanyahu and Arafat. In this period, Arafat continued to assert that there could be no security cooperation until Israel changed its policies. Meanwhile, Netanyahu maintained that no political progress could be made until Arafat conducted a more serious crackdown on Palestinian militants. According to Madeleine Albright, “a clear crisis of confidence had arisen between the Oslo partners.”116
Part III: Analysis -226-
Part III summarizes the findings in the Variable Analysis sections of Part II in order to assess how well each hypothesis was able to predict Israeli and Palestinian behavior. A hypothesispredicted impact chart in the Appendix lists a series of 40 events related to the reaching and breaching of agreements discussed in Part II. The chart notes whether or not each variable was able to predict the event’s occurrence. Importantly, conclusions cannot be drawn from the chart alone. Some events included in the chart represent more significant reaching and breaching behavior than others. In addition, some agreement breaches are not included because they did not take place within a narrow enough time period to measure the variables included in my hypothesis. Likewise, how one accounts for the fulfillment of commitments (e.g. does each phase of Israeli prisoner release mandated by the same agreement count as a separate event?), could skew the chart’s results. Also, the predictive strength of each variable varies in each case; a binary codification of each variables predictive value cannot account for the level of variation and complexity within each case. Consequently, the results of this study must be evaluated qualitatively and holistically. Political Interest Public Opinion According to public opinion data collected by Tel Aviv University, the Israel Democracy Institute, and the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research, the level of public support for the peace process did predict signing of interim agreements or agreement violations. As the table in the Appendix shows, public opinion only predicted Israeli and Palestinian behavior in 11 of the cases included in this study. Public opinion predicted the opposite behavior of what occurred in three cases. In the remaining 26 cases, public opinion did not offer a conclusive prediction of Israeli or Palestinian behavior. In both Israel and the Palestinian Territories, support for the peace process and the Oslo Accords remained relatively high in the period between the signing of the Interim Agreement in 1995 and the 2000 Camp David Summit. This is because while both publics consistently support advancing the peace process, they support doing so on their own terms while protecting their national interests. For Israelis, this meant support for continued negotiations but not for concessions that might jeopardize Israel’s security. Palestinians, despite supporting the peace process in strong numbers, were wary of continued Israeli settlement construction, redeployment delays, and closures. According to chief Palestinian negotiator, Saeb Erekat, “Public support for Palestinian security cooperation was eroded when Palestinians saw only more settlements on the ground.”117 Major events did not strongly affect both parties support for the overall peace process and the Oslo Accords. However, both publics did seem to support their leaders when they waffled on implementing their commitments in the face of the other side’s breaches, namely Israeli redeployment delays and Palestinian counter-terrorism. This can be seen in high levels of distrust of the other’s side’s leadership and pessimism regarding the other side’s likelihood of honoring their commitments. Violence Overall, Israeli and Palestinian death tolls were relatively low between 1995 and 2000 compared to the levels of violence emanating from the First and Second Intifadas, beginning in December 1987 and September 2000 respectively (see graph in Appendix). In spite of low levels of violence throughout most of the period of this study, Israeli and Palestinian agreement violations were rampant. In addition, when levels of violence were high, the peace process was not always negatively affected. The level of violence was able to predict Israeli and Palestinian behavior in only 12 out the 40 cases of this study. In 13 cases, the level of violence predicted the opposite of what -227-
actually occurred. In the remaining 15 cases, the level of violence did not offer a strong prediction in either direction. Paradoxically, in the wake of the February/March suicide bombings, the deadliest string of terrorist attacks in the period of this study, Israeli and Palestinian compliance with the Interim Agreement initially improved. The Palestinian Authority bolstered its security cooperation with Israeli and began arresting hundreds of terrorists within their areas of jurisdiction. Israel hastened its withdrawal from Palestinian cities, completing redeployments from six cities on or ahead of schedule. However, a more long-term analysis of the violence would show that high levels of violence do have a detrimental effect on the peace process. While the February/March bombings initially sped up Israeli redeployments and increased Palestinian counterterrorism measures, it ultimately contributed to the election of Bibi Netanyahu who slowed the peace process. Internal Politics Internal politics were able to predict Israeli and Palestinian behavior in 21 out the 40 cases analyzed in this thesis. In 14 cases, internal political dynamics predicted the opposite of what occurred. In the remaining five cases, the intra-government environment could not offer a clear prediction. For the most part, politicians aside from the head of government and top negotiators were kept out of talks. In both back channel and formal negotiations, political figures often neither debated nor were informed about the details of positions up for debate. While there was often disagreement among top negotiators and advisors on each side, these debates usually did not become topics for wider public debate among politicians or in the public sphere until the terms of negotiations became public – typically not until agreements were reached or negotiations collapsed. This space allowed negotiators to make significant progress and offer significant concessions behind closed doors without fear of immediate political backlash. However, once agreements were signed, they needed to go through a whole new phase of approval – that of the political players not involved in negotiations and the public at large. Political players outside the negotiating process offered feeble mandates for both parties to execute agreements. For example, Rabin received weak mandate for the implementation of Oslo II; the Knesset ratified the agreement by the slim majority of 61 to 59. In Israel, the multi-party parliamentary system has allowed small parties to exert disproportionate influence in the government. These small parties often opposed following through with various peace-related commitments. In addition, the relative ease of calling a vote of no confidence in Israel affects prime ministers’ decision-making. For example, Netanyahu barely survived a no-confidence vote in January 1998. For the Palestinian Authority, the fear of Hamas and other non-state actors, such as Palestinian Islamic Jihad, increased the political cost of fulfilling commitments. The existence of powerful paramilitaries that are uncontrolled by the PLO and the PA weighed heavily in Arafat’s decision-making. Implementing security provisions of agreements could have instigated civil war between the hard-line, armed resistance movements and the PLO.118 As Madeleine Albright says, “Arafat preferred that the extremists focus their anger on Israel, not him.”119 The organization of the Palestinian security sector also created serious political problems. According to Ghaith al-Omari, the Palestinian security sector lacked a clear chain of command and the implementation of agreement obligations “was not part of its doctrine. At the end of the day, many of the security players would make their own political calculus on whether or not they are interested in doing a security job on a given day.”120 Al-Omari notes, “The leaders of the security establishment were actually prominent, strong, public players […] The idea that you can create checks and balances simply did not exist.”121 Al-Omari argues that a sustained effort to confiscate illicit arms and prevent terrorism “would not have been politically sustainable. […] It was not -228-
possible to sustain a political crackdown on terrorism unless you had a security sector that is stable and that does not function as a political player but rather as an implementer of policy.”122 Consequently, even when Arafat wanted to take more serious counter-terrorism and anti-incitement measures, he often faced significant opposition from the leaders of the twelve different Palestinian security bodies. Internal politics undoubtedly affected the political calculus of the peace process for both Israeli and Palestinian leaders. However, throughout the period of this study, Israeli prime ministers and Yasser Arafat often moved toward peace in spite of internal political constraints. In other instances, Israeli and Palestinian leaders breached interim agreements in the face of more dovish internal political environments. Rabin and Peres were willing to reach interim agreements and implement peace-related agreements even at the risk of destabilizing their fragile coalitions. Under Netanyahu, many members of his party and coalition were vehemently opposed to completing the redeployment from Hebron, yet he completed the withdrawal anyway. Later in Netanyahu’s term, when he had the opportunity to form a unity government to implement Israeli commitments under the Wye River Memorandum, he surrendered to the right wing of his government. Barak’s redeployment-related decisions were certainly affected by internal politics, such as when he was forced to give in to the religious parties in his coalition and renege on his commitment to Arafat to withdraw from Palestinian villages such as Abu Dis outside of Jerusalem. However, even when all of the right-wing parties left his government, Barak agreed to negotiate a permanent settlement at Camp David. Arafat’s often erratic behavior—vacillating between ordering robust counterterrorism measures and inciting violence—can be partially explained by internal political constraints, such as the non-hierarchical nature of the Palestinian security sector. However, throughout several periods examined in this study, such as the aftermath of the February/March suicide attacks, Arafat was willing to risk significant political capital when he began to arrest more senior members of the Hamas and Islamic Jihad political and military leadership. International Involvement Of all of the political variables, levels of international involvement seems to show the most consistent correlation with the reaching and breaching of agreements: levels of international involvement successfully predicted Israeli and Palestinian behavior in 28 out of the 40 cases explored in this study. However, in 10 cases, the level of international involvement predicted the opposite outcome of what actually occurred. In the two remaining cases, international involvement did not offer a definitive prediction. International involvement is particularly helpful in explaining Israeli and Palestinian behavior surrounding the Hebron Protocol, Wye River Memorandum, and Sharm el Sheikh Memorandum. However, as noted in the first narrative section, the 1995 Interim Agreement (as well as the 1993 Declaration of Principles) were reached with virtually no pressure from outside actors, such as the United States. Moreover, both the Israelis and the Palestinians did begin to implement important parts of the Interim Agreement despite the lack of formal mechanisms for international monitoring or enforcement. My narrative demonstrates how international actors, such as the United States did not set standards of accountability, such as mechanisms to ensure compliance or resolve disputes. No consequences were imposed when violations occurred. This study illustrates how in many cases, when the United States exerted pressure on the parties, they responded. However, the lack of real enforcement mechanisms made it easier for both parties to forgo agreements. In Daniel Kurtzer’s words, the “lack of accountability was corrosive, eroding confidence among the parties, […] and allowing destructive developments to proceed unchecked.”123 As Rob Malley admits, the United -229-
States “was not geared towards [the] monitoring and implementation [of the interim agreements]. It was geared towards locking [the peace process] in, hoping that it would create its own dynamics, that positive things would happen merely by the fact that the two parties had agreed to sign the same piece of paper and that there would be momentum that would be created as a result of that positive dynamic.”124 However, according to Malley, “the focus was not on how [the United States] make[s] sure that this time [the peace process] doesn’t end up breaking down almost as soon as it’s signed.”125 The United States played a critical role bringing both parties back to the negotiating table throughout the Oslo process and pressured them to reach each interim agreement. For example, to help formulate the Hebron Protocol, the United States literally measured street widths and spatial relations in Hebron.126 Moreover, both parties refused to sign the Hebron Protocol until Dennis Ross drafted and appended the “Note for the Record,” which served as an American guarantee of oral agreements and understandings. As Oslo II continued to be breached, President Clinton appealed directly to Netanyahu and Arafat to attend a summit at the Wye Plantation in Maryland and sequestered them there with Secretary Albright and Dennis Ross until they reached an agreement. However, US pressure on Israel and the Palestinians to implement their agreements was weak and inconsistent. According to Ghaith al-Omari, the United States “bought into the [Palestinian] narrative of ‘we are too weak; don’t push us too far; you will lose us.’”127 Ghaith alOmari claims, “there was no particular interest from the United States in institutionalizing issues that should have been the underpinning of the process.”128 As US pressure factored into both parties’ decisions to reach the interim agreements, Arab rejection of the Oslo process made implementation of the agreements more costly for the Palestinians. The lack of support from the Arab World (except Egypt and Jordan) hindered the legitimacy of the PA and its ability to develop state-like institutions. Without the political and financial support of Arab countries, the PA had difficulty confronting Hamas and other violent groups and establishing its legitimacy throughout the Palestinian Territories. Psychological Factors Psychological factors were useful in explaining Israeli and Palestinian behavior in 17 out of the 40 cases examined in this study. In 11 cases, psychological factors predicted the opposite of what happened. The remaining 12 cases did not offer a strong prediction either way. This offers some evidence that the personalities and ideologies of Rabin, Peres, Netanyahu, Barak, and Arafat had a profound impact on the course of the peace process from 1995 to 2000. At various points, they were willing to defy their own political interests to advance or stall the peace process. The portrait of Arafat, in particular, revealed throughout the Psychological Factors sections of this narrative conforms to Arafat’s background of revolution and being in exile. Arafat’s personal history made him “vulnerable” and “paranoid.”129 Arafat’s vulnerability and paranoia help explain the weak constitution of the Palestinian political bureaucracy and security sector. The decentralized political and security bureaucracy, in turn, made it difficult for the PA to fulfill its security obligations in a consistent and robust manner. Arafat’s frequent unwillingness to confront Palestinian terror organizations directly is also emblematic of his revolutionary past. Many American officials, like Aaron David Miller, frustrated with Arafat’s intransigence believe, “Effective security cooperation may not have been possible so long as Arafat lived – he would not give up the violence card. If Oslo was the last concession the Palestinians were willing to give, Arafat was not ready to actually implement provisions of interim agreements.”130 This study’s narrative illustrates how the challenging, often erratic personalities of Israeli and Palestinian leaders negatively affected the peace process. As Rob Malley says, “You would have -230-
increased the odds of a more successful outcome if either the personalities [of Arafat, Netanyahu, and Barak] had been different or if [the United States] found better ways of softening the rough edges of their personalities.”131 My findings also reveal a historic imbalance between the two parties, which “played psychologically into the relationship between Arafat and whoever was on the other side.”132 This thesis demonstrates how psychological factors, such as the optimistic attitudes of Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres, successfully predict their willingness to sign far-reaching accords. This hypothesis also helps us understand why leaders with more hawkish backgrounds, such as Bibi Netanyahu and Yasser Arafat violated many Oslo-era commitments. In addition, psychological factors have value in explaining some of the inconsistent behavior that occurred in the period of this study, such as the visceral reaction Netanyahu had to terrorist attacks or Arafat’s hostility toward housing projects in East Jerusalem. However, in the majority of cases examined in this study, psychological factors alone could not explain Israeli and Palestinian reaches throughout from 1995 to 2000. Deficit of Trust The historic deficit in trust between Israel and the Palestinians can explain both parties’ hesitancy to commit to or follow through with major concessions. However, this study identified several important instances in which leaders transcended historical baggage by signing and implementing agreements. The relationship between particular combinations of Israeli and Palestinian leaders also has some explanatory value. Additionally, as trust was built or destroyed when commitments were honored or breached, the behavior of the opposite party often responded in kind. For example, when Israel made good on its redeployments the Palestinian Authority usually began to implement more robust counterterrorism measures. However, notable exceptions, such as Netanyahu’s decision to redeploy from Hebron, defy this theory. In all, the deficit of trust hypothesis correctly predicted Israeli and Palestinian behavior in 19 out of 40 cases. In nine cases, the level of trust between Israel and the Palestinians predicted the opposite of what transpired. In the 12 remaining cases, the level of trust could not make a clear prediction.
Part IV: Conclusions This thesis is a study of four incremental agreements aimed at building trust and confidence to ripen conditions for fruitful permanent status negotiations. However, both parties’ failure to fully implement each agreement had the opposite effect. The political interests of both parties, as measured by public opinion, levels of violence, internal politics, and international involvement, do not consistently predict or explain Israeli and Palestinian leaders’ decisions to cyclically reach and breach interim agreements. In many instances examined in this study, Arafat, Rabin, Peres, Netanyahu, and Barak defied their political interests in either the reaching or breaching of interim agreements. Neither public opinion, nor violence, nor internal politics, nor international involvement can fully explain the pattern of cyclical agreement reaching and breaching from 1995 to 2000. This suggests that a more constructivist analysis of the Israeli- Palestinian conflict and peace process is needed. So what of psychological factors and the deficit of trust hypothesis? As seen throughout the Narrative section of this thesis, these variables offer some explanatory value. Moreover, when political variables fail to explain Israeli and Palestinian behavior, it follows that social and psychological factors may be at play. However, these variables are more difficult to measure and analyze from a political science lens. Further study from the disciplines of psychology, sociology, -231-
and cultural anthropology could shed light on how exactly psychological factors and deficit of trust affected Israeli and Palestinian peace process decision-making from 1995 to 2000. Understanding the reasons why Oslo-era interim agreements failed helps one understand similar failings in the Roadmap process beginning in 2003 and could help one avoid making the same mistakes in current and future peace processes. Part II of this thesis details how a series of political, social, and psychological factors incentivized trust-eroding reach-breach behavior. Which variables were most important in affecting this pattern fluctuated throughout the five-year period of this study. However, one conclusion is clear: During the Oslo years, incrementalism, the step-bystep diplomacy in Israeli-Palestinian negotiations by which the parties tried to negotiate interim agreements that would build confidence and momentum toward resolving the more difficult final settlement issues, manifestly failed. The failure of the interim agreements increased mistrust rather than built confidence. The four agreements examined in this study were representative of the inherent challenges to implementing incremental confidence-building measures. The efforts by Israel, the Palestinians, and the United States to move towards a two-state solution in this period were limited by the political realities in each nation, the personal attitudes and values of each leader, and the deficit of trust between the two leaders and nations. Under strong leadership, the Israeli and Palestinian publics rallied behind progress towards peace with the signing of the Declaration of Principles and the Interim Agreement and early attempts to implement both accords. Additional Israeli further redeployments from the West Bank and Palestinian efforts to establish one authority, one gun, and the rule of law showed that even amidst violence and uncertainty, political concessions could be made. However, the crippling cost of Israeli withdrawal and Palestinian counterterrorism amidst terror attacks and settlement construction proved too much for Israeli prime ministers and the PA President to overcome. As the number of agreements and obligations increased throughout the interim period, so did the opportunities for missed deadlines and other agreement violations. Moreover, as breaching the interim agreements became the norm, the acts of negotiating and signing accords lost value. Violations by one party induced reciprocal breaches by the other fueling a vicious cycle of skirted obligations and recriminations. Both parties were loath to follow through with their commitments if they felt they were not getting anything from the other side. In the face of agreement breaches, both parties instigated additional trust-eroding behavior in the forms of incendiary speeches and settlement construction, further increasing the costs of compromise. If Israeli, Palestinian, and Quartet (US, EU, UN, Russian) officials understood these failings of incrementalism, perhaps they would not have pursued the Roadmap in 2003, which called for phased Israeli withdrawals and Palestinian political and security reforms. The Roadmap failed almost as soon as it began when Palestinian terrorism prompted Israel to postpone further redeployments. This recurring problem has led some former negotiators, such as Daniel Kurtzer and Robert Malley, to argue that a third party must present the Israelis and Palestinians with a comprehensive, nonnegotiable final agreement. The data collected and analyzed in this thesis cannot predict that this approach would be more successful. However, the findings of this thesis do cast significant doubt on the usefulness of interim agreements given how easy they are to breach and the extent to which breaching agreements can erode trust and make the successful conclusion of final status negotiations more difficult. For the purposes of this paper and due to space constraints, I constrain my purview to the time period from the 1990s to the present day. For a more complete understanding of the issue of selective promotion, I recommend the extrapolation of these analyses to other cases throughout US history. 1
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2Tepidity
presents a further challenge to constructivist explanations. There is a dichotomy between US outright support and denial, but instances of halfhearted support may include only a rhetorical affirmation, as in the cases of US reactions to 2011 Bahraini protests and the Uyghur dissidents in China. In both cases, US support was limited to flimsy statements of extremely cautious support. Following an examination of cases, I will attempt to explain this question. 3 Adapted from Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998, Ba & Hoffmann, 2003, Wendt, 1992, Onuf, and Kratochwil (both as cited in Zehfuss, 2001) 4 Tibet, like Xinjiang province, has few strategic interests and for which US congress has passed many laws. (see Legislation in congress) 5 This hesitance or tepidity may be attributable to the importance of stability and military alliances which the US enjoys with the government of Bahrain. 6 See 2011 Bahrain movement 1
The Interim Agreement on the West Bank and Gaza Strip will be referred to interchangeably as the Interim Agreement and Oslo II throughout this paper. 2 My political interest hypothesis assesses Israeli and Palestinian behavior through the lens of the same four political variables, despite important differences between the nature of the two societies and governments. While Israel is an advanced and pluralistic parliamentary democracy, the Palestinian Authority is a semiauthoritarian and nascent state. I chose to analyze the same interlocking political variables for both Israel and the Palestinians for the following reason: Agreements reached after Oslo II were effectively additional iterations of the same “game;” the PA’s lack of capacity/sovereignty was clearly a known entity during the negotiation of Hebron, Wye, and Sharm, if not yet at Oslo II. Consequently, while the PA’s lack of capacity can explain the PA’s difficulty in confiscating arms and combatting terrorism, it alone cannot explain Israel and the PLO’s decisions to continue signing agreements under similar terms. While my study will apply the same analysis to both parties, it will acknowledge and explore the important differences in their political and security-related capacities. 3 By “internal politics,” I mean the influence of domestic political actors on the head of government’s decisions (e.g. the makeup of the Israeli coalition government or Arafat’s ability to control the actions of his security chiefs). 4 Agreement breaches are defined as the failure of either party to meet obligations as outlined in the Definitions section in the Appendix. 5 It should be noted that the independent variables in my hypotheses interact with one another. My dependent variables (reaching and breaching of agreements) may also, in turn, affect my independent variables. Because none of my variables can be isolated and there are relatively few observations, I cannot prove a statistically significant correlation between the independent variables contained in my hypotheses and the reaching and breaching of agreements. Moreover, agreement breaches by both parties were often disputed and/or occurred over a period of time. This makes it difficult to determine when to measure values of the independent variables I am examining (i.e. when does a breach actually occur). Consequently, my thesis sets out to develop a theory about the political, social, and psychological motivations behind the reaching and breaching of the interim agreements rather than attempt to prove causation or statistically significant correlation. 6 Process Tracing methodology based on Andrew Bennett’s class presentation (13 September 2011) and his writing in Case Studies and Theory Development in the Social Sciences, and the Oxford Handbook of Political Methodology. 7 See Interim Agreement, Article XI(3)(a). 8 See Interim Agreement, Art. XI(3)(b); Appendix 6 to Annex I to the Interim Agreement (listing hamlets included in Area B). 9 See Interim Agreement, Article XIII(8). 10 See Interim Agreement, Article XV(1) and Article XVI(1). -233-
11
http://peaceindex.org/indexYearsEng.aspx?=16. Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Itamar Rabinovich, Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs 1948-2003 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 68. 15 Telephone interview, 14 March 2012. 16 William Quandt, “Israeli-Palestinian Peace Talks,” How Israelis and Palestinians Negotiate, (Washington, D.C: United States Institute of Peace Press, 2005), 24. 17 Itamar Rabinovich, Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs 1948-2003 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 68. 18 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/95/poll20a.html. 19 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/95/poll19a.html. 20 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/95/poll21c.html#peace. 21 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 215. 22 http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Terrorism/TerrorAttacks.html. 23 Daniel Byman, A High Price: The Triumphs & Failures of Israeli Counterterrorism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 85. 24 “Rabin: PA Responsible for Prevention” (text), Jerusalem, Qol Yisra’el Radio in Hebrew (1408 GMT, April 9, 1995). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, April 10, 1995 (FBIS-NES-95-068; p. 40); available from NewsBank. 25 Shim’on Schiffer and David Regev. “Rabin Urges Caution Over Arafat’s Security Moves,” Tel Aviv, Yedi’ot Aharonot in Hebrew (April 12, 1995). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, April 12, 1995 (FBIS-NES-95-070; p. 60); available from NewsBank. 26 Ibid. 27 Daniel Byman, A High Price: The Triumphs & Failures of Israeli Counterterrorism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 85. 28 Annex I, Articles II and III. 29 “Israeli Intelligence Community Reports on PA’s Performance,” Tel Aviv HATZOFE in Hebrew (October 19, 1995). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, October 19, 1996 (FBIS-NES-95-202; p. 42); available from NewsBank. 30 Samuel M. Katz, The Hunt for the Engineer: How Israeli Agents Tracked the Hamas Master Bomber (Guilford: Lyons Press, 1999), ix and 186. 31 “Opposition Holds Large Rally in Jerusalem,” Jerusalem Post as published in FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia (FBIS-NES-95-194; p. 48) on October 6, 1995; available from NewsBank. 32 http://www.knesset.gov.il/history/eng/eng_hist13_s.htm. 33 Personal interview, 14 March 2012. 34 Personal interview, 4 April 2012. 35 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 203-205. 36 http://imra.org.il/story.php3?=1137. 37 Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary (New York: Hyperion, 2003), 370. 38 “Rabin on Problem of Hatred, Suspicion in Talks,” Jerusalem Qol Yisra’el in English (April 4, 1995). FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, April 5, 1995 (FBIS- NES-95-065; p. 38); available from NewsBank. 39 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 208. 12
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Personal interview, 1 February 2012. Ibid. 42 http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Peace+Process/Guide+to+the+Peace+Process/IsraelPLO+Permanent+Status+Negotiations+-+Joint+C.htm. 43 http://peaceindex.org/files/march_1996.pdf. 44 http://peaceindex.org/indexYearsEng.aspx?=15. 45 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/96/poll22b.html#supnegot. 46 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/96/poll22c.html#suparmed. 47 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/96/poll23a.html. 48 Uri Savir, The Process: 1,100 days that changed the Middle East (New York: Random House, 1999), 286. 49 Ibid, 285. 50 “Palestinian Affairs: ‘Thousands’ of Gazans, Israeli Arabs Protest Against Terror,’” Jerusalem Qol Yisra’el in Hebrew (1200 GMT, April 4, 1996). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, March 4, 1996 (FBIS-NES-95-043; p. 15-16); available from NewsBank. 51 Personal interview, 1 February 2012. 52 Telephone interview, 14 March 2012. 53 “Officer Reports 250 Activists Arrested in ‘Past Few Days’” (text), Jerusalem, Qol Yisra’el Radio in Hebrew (0600 GMT, February 29, 1996). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, February 29, 1996 (FBIS-NES-96-04; p. 1); available from NewsBank. 54 Matthew Levitt, Negotiating Under Fire: Preserving Peace Talks in the Face of Terror Attacks, (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008), 139. 55 “Al Tibi—Attacks Change Picture of Talks with Islamists” (text), Jerusalem, Israel Television Channel 1 in Hebrew (1500 GMT, February 25, 1996). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, February 26, 1996 (FBIS-NES-96-038, p. 4); available from NewsBank. 56 “Israel: Closure Imposed on Territories; Arafat Visit Canceled” Jerusalem Qol Yisra’el in Hebrew (0600 GMT, February 25, 1996). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, February 26, 1996 (FBIS-NES-96-038, p. 31); available from NewsBank. 57 “Will Bombings in Israel Put an End to Peace?” Jerusalem, March 3, 1996, http://www-cgi.cnn.com/WORLD/9603/jerusalem_blast/11pm/index.html. 58 “Shahal Elaborates on Security Deployment, Separation” (text), Tel Aviv, Educational Television Network in Hebrew (1500 GMT, March 3, 1996). Translation by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service. FBIS Daily Report—Near East and South Asia, March 4, 1996 (FBIS-NES-96-043, p. 55); available from NewsBank. 59 Matthew Levitt, Negotiating Under Fire: Preserving Peace Talks in the Face of Terror Attacks, (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008), 143. 60 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 261. 61 Personal interview, 4 April 2012. 62 Ibid. 63 Ibid. 64 Daniel Byman, A High Price: The Failings & Triumphs of Israeli Counterterrorism (New York: Oxford, 2011), 105. 65 “Arafat Asked Hamas to Suspend Attacks Until May 30,” Jerusalem Post, April 7, 1996; available from NewsBank. 66 Ibid. 41
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67
Jon Immanuel, “Arafat: No More Dialogue with Hamas,” Jerusalem Post, April 7, 1996; available from NewsBank. 68 Jon Immanuel, “PA Displays 6 Men Suspected of Plotting to Kill Arafat,” Jerusalem Post, April 22, 1996; available from NewsBank. 69 Bill Clinton, My Life (New York: Knopf, 2004), 702. 70 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 249. 71 http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Peace+Process/Guide+to+the+Peace+Process/Summit+of+P eacemakers+-+Sharm+el-Sheikh-+March+13-.htm. 72 Personal interview, 4 April 2012. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid. 77 Ibid. 78 Telephone interview, 21 February 2012. 79 Telephone interview, 14 March 2012. 80 See Art. VII(1)(b) of Annex I to the Interim Agreement (providing that redepoyment from Hebron ‘will be completed not later than six months after the signing [in September 1995] of this Agreement’); Protocol Concerning the Redeployment in Hebron, 15 Jan. 1997. 81 See Notes for the Record, 15 Jan. 1997. 82 Ibid., ‘Israeli Responsibilities’, para. 1. 83 http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Peace+Process/Guide+to+the+Peace+Process/Letter+from+ Secretary+of+State+Christopher.htm. 84 http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Peace+Process/Guide+to+the+Peace+Process/Letter+from+ Secretary+of+State+Christopher.htm. 85 Yossi Beilin, The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996-2004 (New York: RDV Books, 2004), 64. 86 http://peaceindex.org/files/peaceindex1997_1_1.doc. 87 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/97/poll26.html#support. 88 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 358. 89 http://peaceindex.org/indexMainEng.aspx. 90 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/96/poll22a.html. 91 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls/98/poll36a.html. 92 http://www.pcpsr.org/survey/cprspolls. 93 Personal interview, 15 February 2012. 94 Personal interview, 27 February 2012. 95 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 281. 96 Ibid. 97 Joel Greenberg, “Israelis and Palestinians Cooperate to Seize 4 Terrorist Suspects,” The New York Times, April 11, 1997. 98 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 356. 99 Ibid. 100 Itamar Rabinovich, Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs 1948-2003 (Princeton: Princeton University -236-
Press, 2004), 103. 101 Yossi Beilin, The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996-2004 (New York: RDV Books, 2004), 62. 102 Sarah Honig, David Rudge and Liat Collins, ‘Ministers Expect Accord Vote Today’, Jerusalem Post, 15 January 1997. 103 Steinberg, Gerald M. “Foreign Policy in the 1999 Israeli Elections.” Elazar and Mollov, Israel at the Polls 1999. 104 Itamar Rabinovich, Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs 1948-2003 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 106. 105 Fourteen members of the UN Security Council twice voted for a resolution condemning the Har Homa plan; the US vetoed both times. See Declaration of Principles, Article V(4) and Interim Agreement, Article XXXI(6). 106 Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 325. 107 Bill Clinton, My Life (New York: Knopf, 2004), 747. 108 Ibid, 752. 109 Yossi Beilin, The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996-2004 (New York: RDV Books, 2004), 64. 110 Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary (New York: Hyperion, 2003), 379. 111 Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary (New York: Hyperion, 2003), 372. 112 Ibid. 113 Ibid, 375. 114 Laura Zittrain Eisenberg and Neil Caplan, Negotiating Arab-Israeli Peace: Patterns, Problems, Possibilities (Bloomington: Indiana, 2010), 204. 115 Itamar Rabinovich, Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs 1948-2003 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 106. 116 Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary (New York: Hyperion, 2003), 372. 117 Telephone interview, 3 March 2012. 118 Barry Rubin, The Transformation of Palestinian Politics, 2-3 and 13. 119 Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary (New York: Hyperion, 2003), 378. 120 Personal interview, 1 February 2012. 121 Ibid. 122 Ibid. 123 Daniel Kurtzer and Scott Lasensky, Negotiating Arab-Israeli Peace: American Leadership in the Middle East, (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, 2008), 43. 124 Personal interview, 10 February 2012. 125 Ibid. 126 Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 10-11. 127 Personal interview. 1 February 2012. 128 Ibid. 129 Ibid. 130 Personal interview, 15 February 2012. 131 Personal interview, 10 February 2012. 132 Ibid.
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APPENDIX I: LO REFERENCES Annett, Anthony. "Social Fractionalization, Political Instability, and the Size of Government." IMF Staff Papers 48.3 (2001). Print. BBC World Trust, and Search for Common Ground. Building a Better Tomorrow A Survey of Knowledge and Attitudes toward Transitional Justice in Sierra Leone. Publication. 2008. Print. Ben-Ari, Nirit, and Ernest Harsch. "Sexual Violence, an "invisible War Crime"" African Renewal 18.4 (2005). Print. Chaco, Emmanuel. "Debate over Truth Commission in DR of Congo." IPIS. InfoSud & Human Rights Tribune, 25 May 2009. Web. Doyle, Michael W., and Nicholas Sambanis. "International Peacebuilding: A Theoretical and Quantitative Analysis." American Political Science Review 94.4 (2000). Print. DR Congo Women March against Rape. Dir. Reuters. 16 Oct. 2010. Web. Easterly, William. "Can Foreign Aid Buy Growth?" Journal of Economic Perspectives 17.3 (2003). Print. Gettleman, Jeffrey. "Rape Victims’ Words Help Jolt Congo Into Change." New York Times 18 Oct. 2008, New York ed., A1 sec. Web. The Greatest Silence: Rape in the Congo. Dir. Lisa F. Jackson. Jackson Films Inc., 2007. Web. Hartzell, Caroline, and Matthew Hoddie. "Institutionalizing Peace: Power Sharing and Post-Civil War Conflict Management." American Journal of Political Science 47.2 (2003). Print. Harvard Humanitarian Initiative, and Oxfam America. "Now, The World Is Without Me": An Investigation of Sexual Violence in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Rep. 2010. Print. Hayner, Priscilla B. Unspeakable Truths: Transitional Justice and the Challenge of Truth Commissions. 2nd ed. Routledge, 2010. Print. Human Rights Watch. Soldiers Who Rape, Commanders Who Condone Sexual Violence and Military Reform in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Publication. New York, 2009. Print. Human Rights Watch. "We’ll Kill You If You Cry": Sexual Violence in the Sierra Leone Conflict. Rep. Vol. 15. 2003. Print. Human Rights Watch. World Report 2011: Sierra Leone. Rep. Print. International Coalition for The Responsibility to Protect. The Crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Publication. Web. IRIN. "SIERRA LEONE: New Laws Give Women Unprecedented Rights, Protections." IRIN Africa. 4 July 2007. Web. Jacques, Ntama Bahati. "D.R. Congo: A Call for Truth and Reconciliation." Around Africa (July-Aug. 2009). Africa Faith & Justice Network, 10 Sept. 2009. Web. Kim, Hunjoon, and Kathryn Sikkink. "Explaining the Deterrence Effect of Human Rights Prosecutions for Transitional Countries." International Studies Quarterly 54.4 (2010). Print. Lloyd-Davies, Fiona. "Why Eastern DR Congo Is ‘rape Capital of the World’" CNN. Cable News Network, 25 Nov. 2011. Web. Morgan, M. J. "Mining in Africa: Democratic Republic of Congo." African Business 1 Feb. 2009. The Free Library. Web. Nowrojee, Binaifer. "Making the Invisible War Crime Visible: Post-Conflict Justice for Sierra Leone’s Rape Victims." Harvard Human Rights Journal 18 (2005). Print. -238-
Peterman, Amber, Tia Palermo, and Caryn Bredenkamp. "Estimates and Determinants of Sexual Violence Against Women in the Democratic Republic of Congo." American Journal of Public Health 101.6 (2011). EBSCO. Web. Physicians for Human Rights. War-Related Sexual Violence in Sierra Leone: A Population-Based Assessment. Rep. Boston, 2002. Print. Ramji-Nogales, Jaya. "Designing Bespoke Transitional Justice: A Pluralist Process Approach." Michigan Journal of International Law 32.1 (2010). Print. Scanlon, Helen, and Kelli Muddell. "Gender and Transitional Justice in Africa: Progress and Prospects." African Journal on Conflict Resolution 9.2 (2009): 9-28. Print. The Swedish Foundation for Human Rights, and The All Party Parliamentary Group on the Great Lakes Region of Africa. Justice, Impunity, and Sexual Violence in Eastern Democratic Republic of Cong. Rep. 2008. Print. Teale, Lotta. "Implementing the Gender Acts in Sierra Leone." Interview by Alyson Zureick. Web log post. Social Edge. Skoll Foundation, 29 Jan. 2008. Web. Truth & Reconciliation Commission, Sierra Leone. Witness to Truth: Report of the Sierra Leone Truth & Reconciliation Commission. Rep. 2004. "UN Women Takes Action Worldwide: Africa." UN Women. Web. <http://www.unifem.org/gender_issues/women_war_peace/unifem_takes_action.php>. United States. Department of State. Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor. 2010 Human Rights Report: Sierra Leone. 2011. Print. United States. Department of the Interior. Minerals Yearbook Area Reports: International 2008 Africa and the Middle East. Vol. 3. Washington: US Government Printing Office, 2010. Print. United States Institute of Peace. "Truth Commission: Democratic Republic of Congo." Truth Commissions Digital Collection. July 2003. Web. Walter, Barbara F. "The Critical Barrier to Civil War Settlement." International Organization 51.3 (1997). Print. Wood, Elisabeth Jean. "Variation in Sexual Violence during War." Politics & Society 34.3 (2006). Print.
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APPENDIX II: GREWAL DATA Figure 1: Time until Final Resolution by Various Characteristics of ECtHR Rulings (Kaplan-Meier Survival Estimates)
0
.1
.2
.3
.4
.5
.6
.7
.8
.9
1
Figure 1a: Kaplan-Meier Survival Estimates by Article 2/3 Violation
0
1000
2000 3000 Days since judgment No Art. 2/3 Violation
4000
5000
Art 2/3 Violation
0
.1 .2 .3 .4 .5 .6 .7 .8 .9
1
Figure 1b: Kaplan-Meier Survival Estimates by Measures Required
0
1000
2000 3000 Days since judgment
No General Measures Legislative Measures
4000
5000
Only Publication Other General Measures
-240-
0
.1 .2 .3 .4 .5 .6 .7 .8 .9
1
Figure 1c: Kaplan-Meier Survival Estimates by Bureaucratic Effectiveness (ICRG)
0
1000
2000 3000 Days since judgment Low High-Medium
4000
5000
Low-Medium High
0
.1 .2 .3 .4 .5 .6 .7 .8 .9
1
Figure 1d: Kaplan-Meier Survival Estimates by Power Respondent State
0
1000
2000 3000 Days since judgment Low High
4000
Medium
-241-
5000
4 3 0
1
2
Hazard Ratio
5
6
7
Figure 2A: Hazard Ratios by Days since Judgment for POLCON III and Bureaucratic Effectiveness
0
1000 POLCON III
2000 3000 Days since judgment
4000
5000
Bureaucratic and Judicial Effectiveness
1.2 1 .8 .6
Hazard Ratio
1.4
1.6
1.8
Figure 2B: Hazard Ratios by Days since Judgment for New Democracies versus Stable Democracies
0
1000
2000 3000 Days since judgment
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4000
5000
Table 1: Summary Statistics Variable Obs
Mean
Std. Dev.
Duration_2
982
1608.188
1010.427
Capacity
928
.7899156
.1881064
Cinc
982
11.16286
10.44805
POLCONIII
982
.4389572
.1250815
newdem
982
.4531568
.4980545
nondem
982
.0213849
.1447375
EUcond
982
.1099796
.3130238
hrights
959
14.19291
3.996255
SepOp
982
1.336049
.4725965
Importance
982
1.440937
.5676232
grandchamber
982
.1201629
.3253177
INDIVIDUAL
982
.1160896
.3204956
JP_dummy
982
.1384929
.3455926
LEG_dummy
982
.4511202
.4978586
PRACT_dummy
982
.0610998
.2396353
EXE_ADM_dummy
982
.2321792
.4224379
NArticles
982
1.289206
.6447985
lnothers
982
.589372
1.109732
Article2or3_dummy
982
.089613
.2857721
Article5_dummy
982
.1466395
.3539264
Article6_dummy
982
.4928717
.5002039
Article8_dummy
982
.1649695
.3713421
Article10_dummy
982
.0743381
.262454
Article13_dummy
982
.0845214
.2783099
P1_1dummy
982
.0977597
.2971408
-243-
Table 2: Shared Frailty Cox Regressions on Judgment Characteristics Entire Period Post-1993 VARIABLES
Main Effect
Unanimous
1.318***
1.275**
0.861
(0.117)
(0.131)
(0.116)
1.002
1.075
1.114
(0.0767)
(0.0900)
(0.107)
1.025
0.825
1.370
(0.129)
(0.139)
(0.373)
Importance grandchamber INDIVIDUAL JP_dummy LEG_dummy PRACT_dummy
Time interaction
lnothers Article2or3_dummy Article5_dummy Article6_dummy Article8_dummy
Time interaction
Main Effect
Time interaction
367.2***
0.417***
105.3***
0.475***
0.0211
1.486
(307.5)
(0.0536)
(158.0)
(0.102)
(0.0700)
(0.659)
0.766**
0.762**
0.788
(0.0893)
(0.0964)
(0.122)
0.712***
0.633***
0.621***
(0.0635)
(0.0624)
(0.0709)
0.735
0.675
0.658
(0.164)
(0.166)
(0.180)
0.974
1.067
(0.0940)
(0.107)
(0.142)
0.0698*** 1.386***
0.0608*** 1.409**
0.0979*
1.284
(0.0577)
(0.154)
(0.0612)
(0.189)
(0.137)
(0.241)
0.247***
1.142**
0.317**
1.105
1.261
0.914
(0.116)
(0.0726)
(0.178)
(0.0829)
(0.925)
(0.0909)
EXE_ADM_dummy 0.939 NArticles
Main Effect
Post-1999
0.644**
0.595**
0.624*
(0.140)
(0.139)
(0.169)
6.688**
0.784*
17.32**
0.688**
51.35**
0.590**
(5.877)
(0.0993)
(20.50)
(0.115)
(86.31)
(0.138)
7.234***
0.793**
12.99***
0.723***
13.69**
0.708**
(4.920)
(0.0764)
(11.54)
(0.0894)
(17.41)
(0.124)
0.836
0.700**
0.746
(0.126)
(0.119)
(0.147)
-244-
Article10_dummy Article13_dummy P1_1dummy
Observations
1.363*
1.364*
1.641**
(0.232)
(0.254)
(0.383)
0.760
0.802
1.035
(0.170)
(0.189)
(0.288)
0.681**
0.677**
0.566**
(0.125)
(0.131)
(0.130)
982
Number of countries 44
982
823
823
675
675
44
43
43
43
43
S.E. in parentheses*** p<0.01, ** p<0.05, * p<0.1
-245-
Table 3: Shared Frailty Cox Regressions (All models also include judgment characteristics of table 1, not displayed). (1)
(2)
(3)
VARIABLES
Main
Main
Main
Bureaucratic
1.552
2.287*
Effectiveness
(0.678)
CINC POLCONIII
Main
Time Interaction
5.926e+06** 0.114*** *
1.467e+09** *
0.0532***
(1.033)
(1.728e+07) (0.0466)
(4.957e+09)
(0.0254)
1.012
1.012
1.031
0.997
1.064*
0.993
(0.00924)
(0.00844)
(0.0401)
(0.00552)
(0.0373)
(0.00496)
0.725
0.000259**
3.176**
(0.386)
(0.000914)
(1.589)
1.403**
28.43***
0.638***
(0.191)
(24.06)
(0.0792)
1.065
423.6*
0.422*
(0.454)
(1,487)
(0.220)
New Democracy Non Democracy EU Conditionality
(4) Time Interaction
1.031
0.982
0.228
1.253
0.128
1.352
(0.176)
(0.167)
(0.366)
(0.276)
(0.205)
(0.298)
1.078***
1.077***
1.109
0.996
1.050
1.003
(0.0249)
(0.0239)
(0.171)
(0.0220)
(0.160)
(0.0219)
Judgment Characteristics
Yes
Yes
Yes
Yes
Observations
925
925
925
925
Number of groups
37
37
37
37
Human Rights
*** p<0.01, ** p<0.05, * p<0.1
-246-
APPENDIX III: STREZHNEV DATA Figure 1: Trilinear plots of topic proportions for the 2000, 2005 and 2010 Review Conferences
-247-
Figure 2: Effect of NAM membership on the relationship between attention to non-proliferation and U.S. attention to disarmament
Note: X and Y values are the logit-transformed topic proportions returned by the Correlated Topic Model for a given country-year NAM membership corresponds to a more positively sloped relationship between U.S. attention to disarmament and attention to non-proliferation compared to non-NAM states.
-248-
Figure 3: Effect of NAC membership on the relationship between attention to non-proliferation
and U.S. attention to disarmament Note: X and Y values are the logit-transformed topic proportions returned by the Correlated Topic Model for a given country-year NAC membership corresponds to a more positively sloped relationship between U.S. attention to disarmament and attention to non-proliferation compared to non-NAC states.
-249-
Table 1: Top twenty words within each of three categories returned by the Correlated Topic Model (CTM) “NonProliferation”
“Disarmamen t”
“Energy”
safeguards
efforts
energy
iaea
world
peaceful
additional
process
iaea
protocol
united
cooperation
activities
regime development
material
progress
safety
system
steps
fuel
regime
towards
technology
export
ctbt
article
verification
force
technical
obligations
free
power
agreement
negotiations
purposes
measures
developing
comprehensiv e efforts
nuclearweapo n
activities
force
arms
agency
council
support
cycle
iran
elimination
materials
support
commitment
obligations
agency
strategic
radioactive
control
article
safeguards
Notes: CTM was randomly seeded and estimated 50 times in R. Topic distribution estimates taken from the iteration with the lowest log-likelihood.
-250-
Table 2: Effects of explanatory variables on estimated logit-transformed non-proliferation topic proportions Explanatory Variables
(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
0.9756***
1.1291***
1.4568***
0.8621***
(0.3486)
(0.3399)
(0.2698)
(0.3225)
1.8038***
1.8298***
2.1078***
1.8068***
(0.2535)
(0.2570)
(0.2034)
(0.2497)
0.6122
0.6332
1.7923***
(0.5518)
(0.5215)
(0.3303)
Security Effects Nuclear Weapons Nuclear Umbrella %Similar Voting with U.S. Normative Effects U.S. focus on disarmamen t NAM Membershi p NAC Membershi p U.S. disarmamen t focus x NAM U.S. disarmamen
-1.1522*
-1.3294**
-1.2872**
(0.6028)
(0.6439)
(0.6002)
-0.6549**
-0.6457**
-2.1339***
-1.9102***
-1.0751***
(0.3149)
(0.2890)
(0.1719)
(0.2643)
(0.2317)
0.07915
-0.03146
-0.6861**
0.04860
(0.2825)
(0.2839)
(0.2656)
(0.2739)
0.3476***
0.3778***
0.3709***
(0.1237)
(0.1327)
(0.1242)
0.4794***
0.4960**
0.5111**
-251-
t focus x NAC (0.1808)
(0.1944)
(0.1813)
Domestic Effects Democracy Trade
Liberalizatio n log(GDP Per Capita) Democracy x NAM Intercept
0.005425
0.01561
0.002440
(0.03420)
(0.01674)
(0.02967)
0.001642
0.001887
0.001834
(0.001886)
(0.001902)
(0.002016)
-0.01266
-0.01859
-0.02134
(0.02517)
(0.02548)
(0.02757)
0.1003
0.1005
0.1923**
(0.07392)
(0.06894)
(0.07754)
0.01296
0.009628
(0.03680)
(0.03602)
-4.5470***
-4.6697***
-4.6234***
-1.7180***
-3.7393***
-2.9537
(0.6297)
(0.6236)
(0.2285)
(0.1927)
(0.6659)
(0.2589)
Adjusted R-squared
0.49
0.47
0.46
0.40
0.38
0.48
Number of Observation s
344
344
344
344
344
344
Notes: Coefficients are estimated by standard OLS regression. Standard errors are in parentheses. * = 90% significance, ** = 95% significance, *** = 99% significance. Yearly fixed effects are included in each regression but omitted from the table.
-252-
Table 3: Effects of explanatory variables on estimated logit-transformed disarmament topic proportions Explanatory Variables
(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
-0.8296***
-0.9149
-1.0042***
-0.9190***
(0.2340)
(0.2293)
(0.1807)
(0.2042)
-0.8818***
-.09018
-0.9773***
-1.0282***
(0.1701)
(0.1733)
(0.1363)
(0.1544)
-0.4308
-0.4939
-0.8993***
(0.3703)
(.03518)
(0.2212)
Security Effects Nuclear Weapons Nuclear Umbrella %Similar Voting with U.S. Normative Effects U.S. focus on disarmamen t NAM Membershi p NAC Membershi p U.S. disarmamen t focus x NAM U.S. disarmamen
1.01970**
1.1450***
1.0494**
(0.4046)
(0.4189)
(0.4061)
-0.07359
-.01762
0.9092***
0.7443***
0.2122
(0.2114)
(0.1949)
(0.1118)
(0.1761)
(0.1460)
0.3257*
0.3583*
0.7274***
(0.1896)
(0.1915)
(0.1728)
-0.3078***
-0.3379***
-0.3084***
(0.08300)
(0.08635)
(0.0838)
-0.1756
-0.1998 -253-
t focus x NAC (0.1214)
(0.1265)
Domestic Effects -0.01553
-.01334
-0.002134
(0.02295)
(.01129)
(0.01978)
Democracy Trade
0.0001133
0.0002512 0.00005068
Liberalizatio n log(GDP Per Capita) Democracy x NAM Intercept
(0.001266)
(0.001283)
(0.001344)
-0.002136
0.003234
0.007419
(0.01689)
(0.01719)
(0.01837)
-0.06772
-0.07668
-0.1335**
(0.04962)
(0.04650)
(0.05169)
0.003893
-0.008658
(0.02470)
(0.02401)
1.8128***
1.933***
1.5003***
0.08136
1.3820***
0.8846***
(0.4226)
(0.4206)
(0.1531)
(0.1254)
(0.4438)
(0.1596)
Adjusted R-squared
0.41
0.39
0.38
0.35
0.29
0.39
Number of Observation s
344
344
344
344
344
344
Notes: Coefficients are estimated by standard OLS regression. Standard errors are in parentheses. * = 90% significance, ** = 95% significance, *** = 99% significance. Yearly fixed effects are included in each regression but omitted from the table.
-254-
APPENDIX IV: TURCO REFERENCES Ba, A. A., & Hoffmann, M. J. (2003). Making and remaking the world for IR101: A resource for teaching social constructivism in introductory classes. US Studies Perspectives, 4(1), 15. Retrieved from EBSCOhost. Barkin, S. J., & Cronin, B. (1994). The state and the nation: changing norms and the rules of sovereignty in international relations. International Organization, 1, 107-130. Retrieved from http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?fromPage=online&aid=1583540 Birnbaum, B. (2011, February 16). Obama administration to Bahrain: Respect protestors. The Washington Times. Retrieved from http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/feb/16/obama-admin-criticizes-bahrainigovernment-for-voi/ Bork, E. (2009, July 10). The right way to help the Uighurs. The Washington Post. Retrieved from http://www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/article/2009/07/09/AR2009070902425.html Carley, P. (1997). U.S. Responses to self-determination movements: Strategies for nonviolent outcomes and alternatives to secession. United States Institute for Peace, Peaceworks No. 16. Retrieved from http://www.usip.org Cobban, A. (1969). The Nation state and national self-determination. New York, NY: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. Dasgupta, S. (2012, March 25). Dalai Lama is US-controlled Nazi: China. The Times of India. Retrieved from http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-0325/china/31236437_1_tricky-liar-ethnic-segregation-and-confrontation-language-in-tibetanschools Dhardhowa, Y. C. (2012, April 7). Tibetan refugeesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; problems will be solved: Senior US official. The Tibet Post International. Retrieved from http://www.thetibetpost.com/en/news/international/2450-tibetan-refugees-problems-willbe-solved-senior-us-official Emerson, R. (1971). Self-determination. The American Journal of US Law, 65(3), 459-475. Retrieved from JSTOR. EU will not recognize South Ossetia and Abkhasia, Solana stated. [Supplementary material].(2008, November 5). Georgia Times. Retrieved from http://www.georgiatimes.info/en/ Fearon, J. (1997). Signaling foreign policy interests: Tying hands versus sinking costs. The Journal of Conflict Resolution, 41(1), 68-90. Retrieved from JSTOR Finnemore, M., & Sikkink, K. (1998). US norm dynamics and political change. US Organization, 52(4), 887-917. Retrieved from EBSCOhost. Halperin, M. H., Scheffer, D., & Small, P. L. (1992). Self-determination in the new world order . Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Hannan, D. (2008, August 11). South Ossetians, too, have the right to self-determination. The Telegraph. Retrieved from http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/danielhannan/4874226/South_Ossetians_too_have_the _right_to_selfdetermination/ Hannum, H. (2006). Self-determination in the twenty-first century. In H. Hannum & E. F. Babbitt (Eds.), Negotiating self-determination (pp. 61-80). Lanhan, MD: Lexingon Books. -255-
Izzadeen, A. (2011, March 18). Bahrain: The butchery of democracy dream. The Daily Mirror. Retrieved from http://print.dailymirror.lk/opinion1/38526.html Jørgensen, K. E. (2001). Four levels and a discipline. In K. M. Fierke & K. E. Jørgensen (Eds.), Constructing international relations: The next generation (pp. 36-53). Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe. Kirgis, F. (1994). The degrees of self-determination in the United Nations era. American Journal of US Law, 304(308). Retrieved from JSTOR. Landler, M. (2011, February 17). Unrest in Bahrain presents diplomatic puzzle for Obama. New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/18/world/middleeast/18diplomacy.html?_r=1 Legislation in congress. (n.d.). International campaign for Tibet. Retrieved May 7, 2011, from http://www.savetibet.org/policy-center/us-government-and-legislativeadvocacy/legislation-congress March, J. G., & Olsen, J. P. (1998). The institutional dynamics of international political orders. International Organization, 52(4), 943-969. Retrieved from ProQuest. Margalit, A., & Raz, J. (1990). National self-determination. The Journal of Philosophy, 87(9), 439-461. Retrieved from JSTOR. Mason, J., & Mohammed, A. (2011, February 7). Obama says U.S. to recognize South Sudan as sovereign. Reuters. Retrieved from http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/02/07/us-sudanreferendum-usa-idUSTRE7165A920110207 Medvedev, D. (2008). Statements on major issues. The Kremlin. Retrieved April 10, 2012, from http://archive.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2008/08/26/1543_type82912_205752.shtml Medvedev, D. (2008, Aug. 26). Why I had to recognise Georgia’s breakaway regions. The Financial Times. Retrieved from http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/9c7ad792-7395-11dd-8a660000779fd18c.html Murphy, J. F. (1980). Self-determination: United States perspectives. In Y. Alexander & R. A. Friedlander (Eds.), Self-determination: National, regional, and global dimensions (pp. 43-61). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. National Post Staff. (2011, February 15). Graphic: Bahrain’s strategic importance. National Post. Retrieved from http://news.nationalpost.com/photo_gallery/graphic-bahrains-strategicimportance/ Naylor, B. (2007, October 17). Congress, Bush give Dalai Lama gold medal. NPR. Retrieved May 7, 2011, from http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15374199 Paust, J. J. (1980). Self-determination: A definitional focus. In Y. Alexander & R. A. Friedlander (Eds.), Self-determination: National, regional, and global dimensions (pp. 3-18). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Pomerance, M. (1976).The United States and self-determination: Perspectives on the Wilsonian conception. American Journal of International Law, 70 1-27. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.com Quinn, A. (2011, March 16). Bahrain violence presents U.S. with fresh dilemma. Reuters. Retrieved from http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/03/16/us-bahrain-usaidUSTRE72F8CE20110316 Stolberg, S. G., & Sengupta, S. (2008, March 22). Bush silent, but others speak out on Tibet crackdown. New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/ Tucker, J. (2010, Dec. 20). Kosovo’s declaration of independence revisited. The Monkey Cage. Retrieved from http://themonkeycage.org/blog/2010/12/20/kosovos_declaration_of_indende/ United States recognizes Kosovo as independent state: Rice congratulates people of Kosovo for historic decision. (2008, February 18). America.gov Archive. Retrieved from -256-
http://www.america.gov/st/peacesecenglish/2008/February/20080218144244dmslahrellek0.9832117.html Unterberger, B. M. (2002). Self determination. Encyclopedia of American Foreign Policy (2nd ed., p. 461). New York: Scribner. USAID Africa: Sudan. (2011, January 27). U.S. Agency for International Development. Retrieved May 7, 2011, from http://www.usaid.gov/locations/sub-saharan_africa/countries/sudan/ U.S. Congress. (2009). Division A â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Foreign relations authorization act, fiscal years 2010 and 2011 (H.R. 2410). Retrieved from http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/BILLS-111hr2410eh/pdf/BILLS111hr2410eh.pdf Weiner, E. (2007, October 17). Bush prods congress on domestic issues, Turkey. NPR. Retrieved May 3, 2011, from http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15357050 Wendt, A. (1992). Anarchy is what states make of it: The social construction of power politics. International Organization, 46 391-425. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/2706858 Zargham, M. (2011, March 16). Bahrain violence presents U.S. with fresh dilemma. Reuters. Retrieved from http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/03/16/us-bahrain-usaidUSTRE72F8CE20110316 Zehfuss, M. (2001). Constructivisms in international relations:Wndt, Onuf, and Kratochwil. In K. M. Fierke & K. E. Jørgensen (Eds.), Constructing international relations: The next generation (pp. 54-75). Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe.
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APPENDIX V: PAUL ADDENDUM Definitions Which Israeli and Palestinian actions constitute agreement breaches is the subject of significant debate in both political and academic circles. This thesis will focus on Israeli breaches related to its redeployment commitments and Palestinian breaches related to its obligations to counter terrorism. There is consensus in policy and scholarly communities that violations related to redeployments and counterterrorism did occur. In addition, redeployment and counterterrorism breaches were extremely important to the opposite party. Other breaches such as Israel’s withholding of Palestinian Authority funds or the PA’s exceeding proscribed limits of selfgovernment were less impactful. Both parties justified many of their violations on the grounds of reciprocity. However, this thesis holds that counter-breaches were often disproportionate, disregarding implied obligations to interpret and perform agreements in good faith. This thesis will define the following as “agreement breaches:” Israeli Breaches Withdrawal from Hebron: Under Annex 1, Article 7 of the Interim Agreement, Israel was to carry out its redeployment in Hebron after agreement on special security arrangements for the city – and no later than March 1996. The Protocol Concerning Redeployment in Hebron, however, was not initialed until January 15, 1997. First Further Redeployment: The first further redeployment, pursuant to Annex 1, Article 1(9) was to take place six months after the inauguration of the Palestinian Legislative Council, i.e., in July 1996. The election of Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu in May 1996 and the subsequent breakdown in Israeli-Palestinian relations delayed this redeployment for two years – until after the Wye River Memorandum was signed on October 23, 1998. Second Further Redeployment: Although the Wye River Memorandum defined the extent of the first and second further redeployments, the second further redeployment was delayed until after Ehud Barak’s election as Prime Minister. The second further redeployment was implemented in three stages, completed on March 21, 2000 – more than three years overdue. Third Further Redeployment: The third and final Israeli further redeployment in the West Bank was to have occurred within eighteen months of the inauguration of the Palestinian Legislative Council, i.e., July 1997. This redeployment never occurred.1 Palestinian Breaches Combatting Terrorism: The Interim Agreement (Annex I, Article II) requires the Palestinian Council to act against all expressions of violence and terror. This obligation was restated and strengthened in the Note for the Record in which the Palestinian side undertook both to combat systematically and effectively terrorist organizations and infrastructure, and to apprehend, prosecute, and punish terrorists. The Palestinian Authority further committed to take specific actions to counter terrorism in the Wye River Memorandum and the Sharm el Sheikh Memorandum. However, throughout the period of this study, Palestinian activity directed against terrorists was highly irregular. The PA’s record in arresting and prosecuting individuals suspected of terrorist activity and taking measures against terrorist infrastructure was episodic. The PA also permitted and sometimes engaged in -258-
inflammatory anti-Israel propaganda that verged on incitement to violence. In addition, the PA made virtually no effort to confiscate illegal firearms in Area A territory.
Summary of Predictions of Various Theories Purporting to Explain Israeli/Palestinian Actions in the Peace Process, 1995-2000 If political interests do explain Israeli and Palestinian reaching and breaching behavior, then agreement obligations should be fulfilled and provocative behavior by the government should not occur when: Public Opinion is favorable to peace* Levels of Violence are low** Israeli coalition is strong and amenable to peace/Senior Palestinian officials are acquiescent to peace International (US) pressure is applied Trust is established between Israeli and Palestinian leaders Israeli and Palestinian leaders are acting in good faith A blank square indicates the theory does not offer a strong prediction for this event. *By peace, I mean the peace process and peace-related concessions. **Following incidents of Palestinian terrorism, I expect to find a period of strong Palestinian security cooperation. Cases in which the behavior predicted by the hypothesis matched the actual findings are indicated with italics. Commitment reached or fulfilled Commitment breached Confidence-eroding measure Confidence-building Measure Political Interest Prediction
Public Opinion
Interim Agreement negotiation (9/95) First Palestinian prisoner release (10/95) Israel withdraws from Jenin, Nablus, Tulkarm, Qalqilyah, Ramallah, and Bethlehem (11-
Violence
Internal Politics
fail
fulfill
International Involvement
Deficit of Trust
succeed
succeed
Psychological Factors
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
-259-
12/95) Israel fails to withdraw from Hebron (12/95 1/97)
breach
breach
breach
breach
breach
breach
Palestinian Legislative and Presidential Elections (1/96)
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
fulfill
Suicide Bombings (2/253/4/96)
prevent
N/A
allow
prevent
Palestinian Security Cooperation (3/5summer/96)
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
PNC votes to amend Palestinian Covenant (4/96) Final Status Negotiations (5/96)
occur
occur
Israel relaxes restrictions on the expansion of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Gaza Strip (8/96) Israel closes Hasmonean Tunnel (9/96)
allow
occur
not occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
not occur
occur
occur
Redeployment of Israeli troops in Hebron began (1/97)
fulfill
fulfill
breach
fulfill
breach
breach
Renewed bilateral negotiations (2/17/97)
occur
occur
not occur
occur
occur
not occur
-260-
Har Homa construction approved (2/26/97); construction begins (3/18/97) PA rejects Israelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s interpretation of FRD (3/97)
occur
occur
Israel closes West Bank and Gaza Strip in response to Hamas attack in Tel Aviv (3/21/97) Israel allows 55,000 Palestinian workers to enter Israel (4/30/97)
not occur
Levy-Arafat preliminary peace process discussions in (7/97)
occur
not occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
occur
Israel closes West Bank and Gaza Strip and withholds payment of ~50m USD in PA tax revenues after terrorist attack in Jerusalem (7/30/97)
occur
occur
occur
Israel releases 1/3 of withheld PA funds (8/97)
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
Israel reopens the West Bank and Gaza Strip (9/1/97)
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
-261-
Israel releases 50% of withheld PA funds and eases movement and access restrictions (9/14/97)
Not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
Netanyahu vetoes Israeli housing project in E. not occur Jerusalem (9/15/97)
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
Israel agrees in principle to partial West Bank withdrawal (11/97)
not occur
occur
not occur
not occur
Netanyahu rejects US proposal for 2nd stage of redeployment from 10-15% of West Bank, proposed 9.5% (1/20/98)
occur
not occur
occur
occur
fail
succeed
fail
fail
not occur
occur
occur
succeed
fail
fail
AlbrightNetanyahu-Arafat talks in London; Netanyahu refuses US plan for 13.1% redeployment in the West Bank (5/4-5/98)
fail
succeed
Israeli Cabinet approves draft plan to widen Jerusalemâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s municipal boundaries (6/98)
not occur
Direct peace talks held, yield no agreement on redeployment
succeed
fail -262-
(7/98) Wye River negotiation and agreement (10/98)
fail
fail
succeed
Israel implements first stage of redeployment, releases 250 prisoners in accordance with Wye (11/98)
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
PLC reconfirms deletion of antiIsraeli articles of Palestinian Charter in session attended by President Clinton (12/14/98)
not occur
not occur
occur
not occur
ClintonNetanyahu-Arafat summit at Erez; Netanyahu announces Israel would not complete second redeployment prescribed by Wye; Arafat demanded settlement freeze and threatened unilateral declaration of statehood (12/15/98); Israeli Cabinet votes to suspend implementation of Wye (12/20/98)
occur
occur
not occur
occur
not occur
occur
PLO Central Council
-263-
fail
fail
announces postponement of unilateral declaration of Palestinian statehood until after Israeli general election; violent protests against the decision occurred throughout Palestinian territories (4/99) Barak- Arafat talks at Erez collapse after Arafat rejects Barakâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s proposal to delay Wye implementation and combine FRDs with final status negotiations (78/99)
occur
not occur
Sharm signed (9/4/99)
occur
occur
Israel releases 199 prisoners in accordance with Sharm (9/9/99)
occur
Israel transfers additional 7% of West Bank territory to Area A Barak-Arafat peace talks in Ramallah (12/99) Arafat-Barak talks in Gaza collapse over 3rd FRD (2/3/00);
occur
not occur
not occur
occur
occur
occur
occur
not occur
-264-
occur
Sharm permanent status agreement deadline passes (2/13/00) Israeli troops complete final phase of 2nd redeployment under Wye; negotiators resume final status negotiations in DC (3/21/00)
occur
Israeli Support for the Peace Process2
-265-
not occur
Palestinian Support for the Peace Process3
Israeli and Palestinian Fatalities, 1988-20044
-266-
Israeli and Palestinian Fatalities, 1995-19995
-267-
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Kershner, Isabel. Barrier: The Seam of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. Macmillan, 2005. Kittrie, Orde F. “Review: More Process than Peace: Legitimacy, Compliance, and the Oslo Accords.” Michigan Law Review 101, no. 6 (May 1, 2003): 1661-1714. Kurtzer, Daniel, Scott Lasensky, and United States Institute of Peace. Negotiating Arab-Israeli peace: American leadership in the Middle East. US Institute of Peace Press, 2008. Laqueur, Walter. The Israel-Arab reader: a documentary history of the Middle East conflict. Penguin Books, 2008. Lea, David, and Annamarie Rowe. A survey of Arab-Israeli relations 1947-2001. Psychology Press, 2002. Leon, Dan. “Israeli Public Opinion Polls on the Peace Process.” Palestine-Israel journal of Politics, Economics and Culture 2, no. 1 (1995). Levin, Kenneth. The Oslo syndrome: delusions of a people under siege. Smith and Kraus, 2005. Levitt, Matthew. Negotiating under fire: preserving peace talks in the face of terror attacks. Rowman & Littlefield, 2008. Malley, Robert. “Israel and the Arafat Question.” The New York Review of Books, October 7, 2004. Ma’oz, Moshe, Robert L. Rothstein, and Khalil Shikaki. The Israeli-Palestinian Peace Process: Oslo and the Lessons of Failure: Perspectives, Predicaments and Prospects. Sussex Academic Press, 2004. Migdalovitz, Carol. Israeli-Palestinian Peace Process: The Wye River Memorandum. Congressional Research Service, 1998. Miller, Aaron David. The much too promised land: America’s elusive search for Arab-Israeli peace. Random House Digital, Inc., 2008. Quandt, William B. Peace Process: American Diplomacy and the Arab-Israeli Conflict Since 1967. University of California Press, 2001. Qurei, Aḥmad. Beyond Oslo, the Struggle for Palestine: Inside the Middle East Peace Process from Rabin’s Death to Camp David. London ; New York : New York: I.B. Tauris ; Distributed in the United States and Canada by Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. Rabinovich, Itamar. Waging Peace: Israel and the Arabs, 1948-2003. Rev Upd. Princeton University Press, 2004. Ross, Dennis. The missing peace: the inside story of the fight for Middle East peace. Macmillan, 2005. Rubin, Barry. The Transformation of Palestinian Politics: From Revolution to State-Building. Harvard University Press, 2001. Pundak, Ron. “From Oslo to Taba: What Went Wrong?” Survival 43 (September 2001): 31-45. Savir, Uri. The process: 1,100 days that changed the Middle East. Random House Digital, Inc., 1999. Seliktar, Ofira. Doomed to failure?: the politics and intelligence of the Oslo peace process. ABC-CLIO, 2009. Shamir, Michal, and Jacob Shamir. “The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict in Israeli Elections.” International Political Science Review / Revue internationale de science politique 28, no. 4 (2007): 469-491. Shikaki, Khalil. “Peace Now or Hamas Later.” Foreign Affairs 77, no. 4 (July 1, 1998): 29-43. Shlaim, A. “The Rise and Fall of the Oslo Peace Process.” Fawcett, Louise: International Relations in the Middle East, Oxford (2006): 241–262. Slater, Jerome. “What Went Wrong? The Collapse of the Israeli-Palestinian Peace Process.” Political Science Quarterly 116, no. 2 (July 1, 2001): 171-199. The Elections in Israel, 1992. SUNY series in Israeli studies. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995. The Elections in Israel, 1996. SUNY series in Israeli studies. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999. The Elections in Israel, 1999. SUNY series in Israeli studies. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002. -269-
United States Institute of Peace. How Israelis and Palestinians Negotiate: A Cross-Cultural Analysis of the Oslo Peace Process. Washington, D.C: United States Institute of Peace Press, 2005. Wallach, Janet, and John Wallach. Arafat: in the eyes of the beholder. Carol Pub. Group, 1997. Watson, Geoffrey R. The Oslo Accords: international law and the Israeli-Palestinian peace agreements. Oxford University Press, 2000. Weiner, Justus R. “Wye River Memorandum: A Transition to Final Peace.” Hastings International and Comparative Law Review 24 (2001 2000): 1. Data Global Terrorism Database. National Consortium for the Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism. University of Maryland, College Park. Hermann, Tamar S. “The Peace Index.” Guttman Center, Israel Democracy Institute and Evens Program in Mediation and Conflict Resolution. Monthly Peace Index, 1994-2000. Shikaki, Khalil. Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research. Polls, 1993-2000. News Foreign Broadcast Information Service Daily Reports (through 1996) available through Newsbank (contains CIA translations of Israeli and Palestinian news sources) Newsbank also offers access to the complete Jerusalem Post and Palestinian News Network (Bethlehem-based) archives World News Connection features translations of Al-Ayyam (Ramallah-based Palestinian newspaper) and Al-Quds (Jerusalem-based Palestinian newspaper) Source Documents The texts of the following source documents are available at http://naip-documents.blogspot.com.
Presentation of the New Government, Address to the Knesset by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, 13 July 1992 Letters Exchanged between PLO Chairman Arafat, Israeli Prime Minister Rabin, and Norwegian Foreign Minister Holst, Tunis and Jerusalem, 9 September 1993 Declaration of Principles [DOP] on Interim Self-Government Arrangements (the Oslo Accord), 13 September 1993 Speeches Delivered at the Signing of the Israel-PLO Accord, the White House, Washington, D.C., 13 September 1993 Yitzhak Rabin Statement to the Knesset on the massacre at Hebron, 28 February 1994 Agreement on the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area (The Cairo Accord), 4 May 1994 Oslo II: Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, 28 September 1995 [Beilin-Abu-Mazen] Framework for the Conclusion of a Final Status Agreement between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization, 31 October 1995 Remarks by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin at Tel Aviv Peace Rally, 4 November 1995 Eulogies at the Funeral of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, 6 November 1995 Summit of Peacemakers, Final Statement Issued by Co-chairmen, Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak and US President Bill Clinton, Sharm el-Sheikh, 13 March 1996 "Grapes of Wrath (April) Understanding" and US-Israel side letter, 26 April 1996 The Hebron Protocol, 15 January 1997 Note for the Record, appended to the Hebron Protocol, 15 January 1997 -270-
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Personal Interviews Ghaith al-Omari, Executive Director of the American Task Force on Palestine, former Director of the International Relations Department in the Office of the Palestinian President, former adviser to the Palestinian negotiating team. February 1, 2012. Personal interview. Dr. Robert Malley, Middle East and North Africa Program Director at the International Crisis Group, Special Assistant to President Clinton for Arab-Israeli Affairs and Director for Near East and South Asian Affairs on the NSC staff. February 10, 2012. Personal interview. Dr. Aaron David Miller, Distinguished Scholar in the Middle East Program at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, former Deputy Special Middle East Coordinator and Senior Advisor on Arab-Israeli negotiations in the State Department Bureau of Near Eastern Affairs. February 15, 2012. Personal interview. Ambassador Daniel Kurtzer, S. Daniel Abraham Professor in Middle Eastern Policy Studies at the Woodrow Wilson School of Public & International Affairs at Princeton University, former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern Affairs, former coordinator of the multilateral peace negotiations, former US Ambassador to Egypt and Israel. February 21, 2012. Telephone interview. Ambassador Dennis Ross, counselor at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, former special assistant to President Obama, former NSC senior director for the Central Region, former special Middle East coordinator, former Director of Policy Planning at the State Department, and former director of Near East and South Asian affairs in the NSC. February 27, 2012. Personal interview. Dr. Saeb Erekat, Chief Palestinian Negotiator. March 3, 2012. Telephone interview. Jonathan B. Schwartz, State Department Deputy Legal Adviser. March 5, 2012. Telephone interview. Bruce Riedel, senior fellow in the Saban Center for Middle East Policy at the Brookings Institution, former Special Assistant to the President and Senior Director for Near East and North African Affairs on the NSC, former Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Near East and South Asian Affairs. March 5, 2012. Telephone interview. Joel Singer, Legal Advisor to the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Israel’s lawyer for the negotiations, 1993-1996. March 14, 2012. Telephone interview. Ambassador Martin Indyk, Vice President and Foreign Policy Director at the Brookings Institution, former Special Assistant to the President and Senior Director for Near East and South Asian Affairs on the NSC, former US Ambassador to Israel, and former Assistant Secretary of State for Near East Affairs. April 4, 2012. Personal interview. 1
At the start of the Camp David Summit, Israel remained in exclusive control of around 59% of the West Bank, even though only Jerusalem, settlements, and specified military locations were to be exempt from the further redeployment process. Israel asserted that it alone had the right to determine the areas subject to this redeployment and rejects the Palestinian position that the two sides must agree on the map of the redeployment. -271-
2
Data from the Guttman Center, Israeli Democracy Institute Data from the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research 4 http://www.btselem.org/statistics/first_intifada_tables; http://old.btselem.org/statistics/english/casualties.asp?sD=29&sM=09&sY=2000&eD=26&eM=12&eY=2 008&filterby=event&oferet_stat=before. 5 Ibid. 3
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