Making War to Keep Peace (44 page)

As America's Founding Fathers understood, it is not easy to structure a single government to provide both popular governance and accountability. Democratic government requires that representatives of the people make major decisions and that these representatives be elected by (and remain accountable to) some large portion of the electorate. Foreign policy also requires that those representatives make policy about remote, unfamiliar subjects. The development of the “experience, instruction, habit, and all the homely species of practical wisdom that are required to make sensible rules about everyday life are required for those who would govern and those who would advise those who would govern” of which Alexis de Tocqueville wrote would not come easy to those who endeavor to be governed democratically. As Tocqueville observed in his masterpiece,
Democracy in America
:

It requires patience, perspective, and knowledge—not just of one's own country and its culture, but also of all the countries with which we interact—to ensure that our foreign policy keeps pace with the changing realities of every era and generation. Globalization and technology have confronted us with new and unprecedented issues, with allies and adversaries who can have instantaneous impact inside our borders no matter how remote they may be geographically. Tocqueville's observations
remind us of the importance of vigilance, of the need to balance our desire to promote democracy against the new vulnerabilities of our national security in this new world.

CLASH OF CIVILIZATIONS

Most serious students of foreign policy in our time are familiar with Samuel Huntington's fascinating book,
The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order
. I have been an admirer of Professor Huntington all my professional life, but upon its publication in 1996 I was critical of the book's first chapter and doubted whether such a clash of civilizations was at hand. But it quickly became clear to me that I was wrong. When
The Clash of Civilizations
was published, we were already on the razor's edge. September 11, 2001, brought that home to America, and to me.

That lesson eluded Secretary-General Annan, who even a month before his term expired was still resisting the notion that there exists any such clash of civilizations. “We must start by reaffirming—and demonstrating—that the problem is not the Koran, nor the Torah or the Bible,” he declared, and called for increased opportunities for young people as a credible alternative to hate and extremism. “We must give them a real chance to join in improving the world order,” Annan continued, “so they will no longer feel the urge to smash it.”
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But the secretary-general failed to explain how one negotiates with groups whose intent is to smash the world and who cannot be dissuaded by invitations to enfranchisement. Islamic fundamentalism is an ideology of expansionist tyranny, propelled by an unrelenting will to dominate other nations, cultures, and religions. Just as during the cold war, when exporting Communism was the most powerful intellectual paradigm, exporting a radicalized version of Islam—under the cover of its religious status—has become today's most powerful paradigm.

Today we confront this clash around the world, and it is our most urgent task. In Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere we deal with people who have no experience of democracy and who have no institutions capable of sustaining democracy if left without support. The people of Afghanistan were overrun by the Taliban, in a cloud of chaos and vio
lence, in the power vacuum left after the Soviets withdrew in defeat. The people of Iraq, who lived under Saddam Hussein's oppression and terror for forty years, have developed habits, values, and a way of life very different from anything we know. We have our lessons—and decisions—before us.

Today, we confront more dangers in the world than at any time in our history. We know now that our policies must be made within the context of an expanding globe, and with an expanding awareness that democracy and the rule of law have little meaning to many nations with which we must pursue constructive relations. We can never predict all the consequences of our actions, but we surely can proceed with greater wisdom if we can adjust our worldview based on understanding our mistakes.

As the Balkan wars illuminated important differences in the political sensibilities and reflexes of the Old Continent and the United States, the Iraq war has illuminated differences with our relationship within the world community itself. One stark disparity that crystallized during the 2003 Iraq invasion was that the coalition of former U.S. allies (including France, Germany, Greece, Norway, and Canada) formed during the first Gulf war could no longer be relied upon to stand with the United States in the second war. Likewise, countries in the region (such as Egypt, Kuwait, Morocco, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and the United Arab Emirates) that had stood with the United States in 1991 declined their support in 2003. With the end of the cold war, however, new alliances were offered in 2003, with nations such as Albania, Azerbaijan, Japan, Latvia, Lithuania, Macedonia, Romania, Slovakia, and Uzbekistan.
²⁷

After the current Bush administration's stunning and swift success during the initial invasion of Iraq, dramatized by Saddam Hussein's prompt overthrow, it is clear that some of the lessons learned from the first Gulf war were missed. Former secretary of defense Donald Rumsfeld, the architect of the Iraq war, has been quoted as saying, “We are going to go in, overthrow Saddam, get out. That's it.”
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But what happened in Afghanistan after the Soviets withdrew could not be allowed to occur again when the U.S. attacked after September 11, and neither could it be allowed to happen in Iraq. Iraq presented a very different set of circumstances from Afghanistan, however. These are things we ought to
have known and taken into account when weighing our decision to invade in 2003.

Iraq lacked practically all the requirements for a democratic government: rule of law, an elite with a shared commitment to democratic procedures, a sense of citizenship, and habits of trust and cooperation. The administration's failure involved several issues, but the core concern is that they did not seem to have methodically completed the due diligence required for reasoned policy-making because they failed to address the aftermath of the invasion. This, of course, is reflected by the violence, sectarian unrest, ethnic vengeance and bloodshed we see in Iraq today.

The key to putting Iraq on the path of democracy today is to help to establish law and order. This policy is already part of the Bush administration plan, but as of this writing their strategy remains unclear. However, history offers hope for Iraq's future. Battles in other countries that had seemed unwinnable have come to peace—and victory. The conflict in the former Yugoslavia was fueled by what once appeared to be endless hatred and ethnic divides, but that nation is now on a slow road to democracy. The centuries-old conflict in Northern Ireland has drawn toward a peaceful close, as have former rivals in South Africa who abandoned apartheid's animosity and violence in favor of building a multiethnic democracy, stability, and peace.

Today, we battle multiple threats on several fronts, obliging us to develop foreign policy strategies to deal simultaneously with the terrorists and with their state sponsors. As we continue to fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, and grapple with such other hot spots as Iran and North Korea, it is natural for Americans to seek examples to guide our actions in this new world order, with its astonishing potential for mass casualties and its proliferation of outlaw nation-states. Many of the forces we confront today are more barbaric than modern, in their goals and means alike.

When I am asked for guidance as we move forward into this new and uniquely dangerous century, I am drawn to the prescient principles of the Reagan Doctrine.

Like most American “doctrines,” the Reagan Doctrine emerged in response to circumstances. Above all, it was concerned with the moral le-
gitimacy of U.S. support—including military support—for insurgencies under certain circumstances: where there are indigenous opponents to a government that is maintained by force, rather than popular consent. The Reagan Doctrine addressed such questions as: Is it morally and legally acceptable for the United States to support indigenous armed movements against such governments? Does such support constitute unjustified and illegal interference in their internal affairs?

The Reagan Doctrine expressed
solidarity
with the struggle for self-government as against one-party dictatorship. It did not require offering armed resistance, but it did permit such measures. It did not address the question of U.S. military involvement or involvement of U.S. forces in any particular contest. It was a broader doctrine that postulated the moral legitimacy of American military aid under certain circumstances and offered moral guidelines for offering such aid. Policy under the Reagan Doctrine was established
by prudential determination of the national interest in particular context
. It denied that assisting in the overthrow of an existing government is always wrong. Rather, it highlighted the need to weigh the legitimacy of such acts within their political and moral context: the nature of the government, the role of a foreign force, and the existence of resistance.
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Moreover, even if such an act were justified, the Reagan Doctrine did not dictate that such action was always wise; rather, it counseled that the long-term costs and benefits of such action should be carefully weighed before taking any steps. Because once we intervene in a given situation, we are accountable for its outcome.

When I served as head of the U.S. delegation to the United Nations Human Rights Commission in 2003, I was reminded that the commission, like the United Nations itself, is a mélange of every region, every people, and every culture—and sometimes of radically contradictory values. As a result of this diversity, some members of the Human Rights Commission can barely understand other members. In my experience, in fact, it seemed that many of the members had no interest in understanding one another. It was apparent that not all nations were primarily concerned with ensuring the freedom of their people or were eager to devise constructive solutions to problems. Rather, many of them wanted to impose their own will on other regions, nations, and lives. The United States
and the Western Group seek constructive solutions to problems. At least we think we do. The resulting clashes at the UNHRC were, indeed, often clashes between vastly different civilizations.

However, it is important to note that the principles of the Human Rights Commission were designed to protect the governed, even though many of the members of the commission do not. To quote the United Nations' Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted in 1948:

The rule of law is the foundation of our constitutional government—that is, of government based on consent. Government based on consent is government by the governed. That is a crucial distinction between democracy and all other forms of government. On that distinction, too, the UN was grounded from its inception. Democratic principles can influence the dialogue among nations as long as the UN remains true to its Charter. There is hope in that, as well.

Today, as we confront these new challenges, Americans must acknowledge that not all governments we deal with are governed based on consent, even as we know that the historic role of our own government has been to promote democracy. Here, again, cultures clash, but the lessons of the post–cold war years must guide our future course if we are to remain a free and stable nation in the coming century. One such lesson is that the rule of law and the sovereign rights of nations are cornerstones for world order. Another is that national security must not take a backseat to our desire to promote democracy to cultures unable or unwilling to accept our overture. A third such lesson is that sanctions and other means may achieve ends more slowly than military force, but preserving our military to wage war only when our national security is at risk is perhaps the best way to keep peace.

The past fifteen years have seen violence perpetuated by coercive elements whose goal is not peace. Throughout history, such groups have
sought to impose their will on others. Where these forces have surfaced in the modern world, there has seldom been a peace to keep. Yet we have dispersed peacekeepers to help alleviate the situations, and these peacekeeping operations have gradually expanded to include a variety of activities. They monitored human rights practices, oversaw elections, maintained cease-fires, separated adversaries, delivered humanitarian aid, and repatriated refugees, to name a few. Their duties have become so diverse that the concept of peacekeeping today might be taken to refer to almost any activity, in any region, at any time.

Yet, as these peacekeeping efforts expanded in scope and across the globe, a critical element seems to have been overlooked: too often the peacekeepers' initial mission was subsumed by a multitude of other tasks, which often lacked objective and cohesion. Sometimes the peacekeeping forces themselves have been left defenseless, and even in need of rescue themselves, as their environment devolved further into warfare. Eventually, the new realities of peacekeeping included kidnapping, starvation, and death—all the result of military forces being deployed not to wage war but to “
keep
peace” in a region where there was no peace from the start.