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The Arrogant Empire (Part I and Part III included)
America’s unprecedented power scares the world, and the Bush administration has only made it worse. How we got here—and what we can do about it now
By Fareed Zakaria - NEWSWEEK March 24 issue — PART I: The United States will soon be at war with Iraq. It would seem, on the face of it, a justifiable use of military force. Saddam Hussein runs one of the most tyrannical regimes in modern history.
FOR MORE THAN 25 years he has sought to acquire chemical, biological and nuclear weapons, and has, in several documented cases, succeeded. He gassed 60,000 of his own people in 1986 in Halabja. He has launched two catastrophic wars, sacrificing nearly a million Iraqis and killing or wounding more than a million Iranians. He has flouted 16 United Nations resolutions over 12 years that have warned him to disarm or else, including one, four months ago, giving him a “final opportunity” to do so “fully and immediately” or face “serious consequences.” But in its campaign against Iraq, America is virtually alone. Never will it have waged a war in such isolation. Never have so many of its allies been so firmly opposed to its policies. Never has it provoked so much public opposition, resentment and mistrust. And all this before the first shot has been fired.
Watching the tumult around the world, it’s evident that what is happening goes well beyond this particular crisis. Many people, both abroad and in America, fear that we are at some kind of turning point, where well-established mainstays of the global order—the Western Alliance, European unity, the United Nations—seem to be cracking under stress. These strains go well beyond the matter of Iraq, which is not vital enough to wreak such damage. In fact, the debate is not about Saddam anymore. It is about America and its role in the new world. To understand the present crisis, we must first grasp how the rest of the world now perceives American power.
It is true that the United States has some allies in its efforts to topple Saddam. It is also true that some of the governments opposing action in Iraq do so not for love of peace and international harmony but for more cynical reasons. France and Russia have a long history of trying to weaken the containment of Iraq to ensure that they can have good trading relations with it. France, after all, helped Saddam Hussein build a nuclear reactor that was obviously a launching pad for a weapons program. (Why would the world’s second largest oil producer need a nuclear power plant?) And France’s Gaullist tendencies are, of course, simply its own version of unilateralism.
But how to explain that the vast majority of the world, with little to gain from it, is in the Franco-Russian camp? The administration claims that many countries support the United States but do so quietly. That signals an even deeper problem. Countries are furtive in their support for the administration not because they fear Saddam Hussein but because they fear their own people. To support America today in much of the world is politically dangerous. Over the past year the United States became a campaign issue in elections in Germany, South Korea and Pakistan. Being anti-American was a vote-getter in all three places. Look at the few countries that do publicly support us. Tony Blair bravely has forged ahead even though the vast majority of the British people disagree with him and deride him as “America’s poodle.” The leaders of Spain and Italy face equally strong public opposition to their stands. Donald Rumsfeld has proclaimed, with his characteristic tactlessness, that while “old Europe”—France and Germany—might oppose U.S. policy, “new Europe” embraces them. This is not exactly right. The governments of Central Europe support Washington, but the people oppose it in almost the same numbers as in old Europe. Between 70 and 80 percent of Hungarians, Czechs and Poles are against an American war in Iraq, with or without U.N. sanction. (The Poles are more supportive in some surveys.) The administration has made much of the support of Vaclav Havel, the departing Czech president. But the incoming president, Vaclav Klaus—a pro-American, Thatcherite free-marketer—said last week that on Iraq his position is aligned with that of his people.
Some make the argument that Europeans are now pacifists, living in a “postmodern paradise,” shielded from threats and unable to imagine the need for military action. But then how to explain the sentiment in Turkey, a country that sits on the Iraqi border? A longtime ally, Turkey has fought with America in conflicts as distant as the Korean War, and supported every American military action since then. But opposition to the war now runs more than 90 percent there. Despite Washington’s offers of billions of dollars in new assistance, the government cannot get parliamentary support to allow American troops to move into Iraq from Turkish bases. Or consider Australia, another crucial ally, and another country where a majority now opposes American policy. Or Ireland. Or India. In fact, while the United States has the backing of a dozen or so governments, it has the support of a majority of the people in only one country in the world, Israel. If that is not isolation, then the word has no meaning.
It is also too easy to dismiss the current crisis as one more in a series of transatlantic family squabbles that stretch back over the decades. Some in Washington have pointed out that whenever the United States has taken strong military action—for example, the deployment of Pershing nuclear missiles in Europe in the early 1980s—there was popular opposition in Europe. True, but this time it’s different. The street demonstrations and public protests of the early 1980s made for good television images. But the reality was that in most polls, 30 to 40 percent of Europeans supported American policies. In Germany, where pacifist feelings ran sky high, 53 percent of Germans supported the Pershing deployments, according to a 1981 poll in Der Spiegel. In France, a majority supported American policy through much of Ronald Reagan’s two terms, even prefer-ring him to the Democratic candidate, Walter Mondale, in 1984.
Josef Joffe, one of Germany’s leading commentators, observes that during the cold war anti-Americanism was a left-wing phenomenon. “In contrast to it, there was always a center-right that was anti-communist and thus pro-American,” he explains. “The numbers waxed and waned, but you always had a solid base of support for the United States.” The cold war kept Europe pro-American. For example, 1968 was a time of mass protests against American policies in Vietnam, but it was also the year of the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. Europeans (and Asians) could oppose America, but their views were balanced by wariness of the Soviet threat and communist behavior. Again, the polls bear this out. European opposition even to the Vietnam War never approached the level of the current opposition to Iraq. This was true outside Europe as well. In Australia, for example, a majority of the public supported that country’s participation in the Vietnam War through 1971, when it withdrew its forces.
But today no such common threat exists, and support for America is far more fluid. Center-right parties might still support Washington, but many do so almost out of inertia and without much popular support for their stand. During the recent German election, Gerhard Schroder campaigned openly against America’s Iraq policy. Less noted was that his conservative opponent, Edmund Stoiber, did so as well, at one point (briefly) outflanking Schroder by saying he would not even allow American bases in Germany to participate in the war.
In one respect, I believe that the Bush administration is right: this war will look better when it is over. The military campaign will probably be less difficult than many of Washington’s opponents think. Most important, it will reveal the nature of Saddam’s barbarous regime. Prisoners and political dissidents will tell stories of atrocities. Horrific documents will come to light. Weapons of mass destruction will be found. If done right, years from now people will remember above all that America helped rid Iraq of a totalitarian dictator.
But the administration is wrong if it believes that a successful war will make the world snap out of a deep and widening mistrust and resentment of American foreign policy. A war with Iraq, even if successful, might solve the Iraq problem. It doesn’t solve the America problem. What worries people around the world above all else is living in a world shaped and dominated by one country—the United States. And they have come to be deeply suspicious and fearful of us. PART III: WHERE BUSH WENT WRONG George W. Bush came into office with few developed ideas about foreign policy. He didn’t seem much interested in the world. During the years that his father was envoy to China, ambassador to the United Nations, director of the CIA and vice president, Bush traveled two or three times outside the country. Candidate Bush’s vision amounted mostly to carving out positions different from his predecessor. Many conservatives thought the Clinton administration was over-involved in the world, especially in nation-building, and hectoring in its diplomacy. So Bush argued that America should be “a humble nation,” scale back its commitments abroad and not involve itself in rebuilding other countries.
Yet other conservatives, a number of whom became powerful within the administration, had a more sweeping agenda. Since the early ’90s, they had argued that the global landscape was marked by two realities. One was American power. The post-cold-war world was overwhelmingly unipolar. The other was the spread of new international treaties and laws. The end of the cold war had given a boost to efforts to create a global consensus on topics like war crimes, land mines and biological weapons. Both observations were accurate. From them, however, these Bush officials drew the strange conclusion that America had little freedom to move in this new world. “The picture it painted in its early months was of a behemoth thrashing about against constraints that only it could see,” notes the neoconservative writer Robert Kagan. For much of the world, it was mystifying to hear the most powerful country in the history of the world speak as though it were a besieged nation, boxed in on all sides.
In its first year the administration withdrew from five international treaties—and did so as brusquely as it could. It reneged on virtually every diplomatic effort that the Clinton administration had engaged in, from North Korea to the Middle East, often overturning public statements from Colin Powell supporting these efforts. It developed a language and diplomatic style that seemed calculated to offend the world. (President Bush has placed a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt in the White House. TR’s most famous words of advice are worth recalling: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”) Key figures in the administration rarely traveled, foreign visitors were treated to perfunctory office visits, and state dinners were unheard of. On an annual basis,
George W. Bush has visited fewer foreign countries than any president in 40 years. Still, he does better than Dick Cheney, who has been abroad only once since becoming vice president. September 11 only added a new layer of assertiveness to Bush’s foreign policy. Understandably shocked and searching for responses, the administration decided that it needed total freedom of action. When NATO, for the first time in its history, invoked the self-defense clause and offered America carte-blanche assistance, the administration essentially ignored it. It similarly marginalized NATO in the Afghan war. NATO has its limitations, which were powerfully revealed during the Kosovo campaign, but the signal this sent to our closest allies was that America didn’t need them. Thus as seen by the rest of the world, 9-11 had a distressingly paradoxical effect. It produced a mobilization of American power and yet a narrowing of American interests. Suddenly, Washington was more powerful and determined to act. But it would act only for its own core security and even pre-emptively when it needed to. Bush later announced an expansive, vague Wilsonian vision—which has merit—but his style and methods overshadowed its potential promise.
The Bush administration could reasonably point out that it doesn’t get enough credit for reaching out to the rest of the world. President Bush has, after all, worked with the United Nations on Iraq, increased foreign aid by 50 percent, announced a $15 billion AIDS program and formally endorsed a Palestinian state. Yet none of these actions seems to earn him any good will. The reason for this is plain. In almost every case, the administration comes to multilateralism grudgingly, reluctantly, and with a transparent lack of sincerity.
For a year now, President Bush has dismissed the notion that he should make any effort toward a Middle East peace process, even though it would have defused some of the anti-Americanism in the region as he sought to confront Iraq. Suddenly last week, to gain allies on Iraq and at the insistence of Tony Blair, Bush made a belated gesture toward the peace process. Is it surprising that people are not hailing this last-minute conversion? Nowhere has this appearance of diplomatic hypocrisy been more striking than on Iraq. The president got high marks for his superb speech at the Security Council last September, urging the United Nations to get serious about enforcing its resolutions on Iraq and to try inspections one last time. Unfortunately, that appeal had been preceded by speeches by Cheney and comments by Rumsfeld calling inspections a sham—statements that actually contradicted American policy—and making clear that the administration had decided to go to war. The only debate was whether to have the United Nations rubber-stamp this policy. To make matters worse, weeks after the new U.S.-sponsored U.N. resolution calling for fresh inspections, the administration began large-scale deployments on Iraq’s border. Diplomatically, it had promised a good-faith effort to watch how the inspections were going; militarily, it was gearing up for war with troops that could not stay ready in the desert forever. Is it any wonder that other countries, even those that would be willing to endorse a war with Iraq, have felt that the diplomacy was a charade, pursued simply to allow time for military preparations? President Bush’s favorite verb is “expect.” He announces peremptorily that he “expects” the Palestinians to dump Yasir Arafat, “expects” countries to be with him or against him, “expects” Turkey to cooperate. It is all part of the administration’s basic approach toward foreign policy, which is best described by the phrase used for its war plan—”shock and awe.” The notion is that the United States needs to intimidate countries with its power and assertiveness, always threatening, always denouncing, never showing weakness.
Donald Rumsfeld often quotes a line from Al Capone: “You will get more with a kind word and a gun than with a kind word alone.” But should the guiding philosophy of the world’s leading democracy really be the tough talk of a Chicago mobster? In terms of effectiveness, this strategy has been a disaster. It has alienated friends and delighted enemies. Having traveled around the world and met with senior government officials in dozens of countries over the past year, I can report that with the exception of Britain and Israel, every country the administration has dealt with feels humiliated by it. “Most officials in Latin American countries today are not anti-American types,” says Jorge Castaneda, the reformist foreign minister of Mexico, who resigned two months ago.
“We have studied in the United States or worked there. We like and understand America. But we find it extremely irritating to be treated with utter contempt.” Last fall, a senior ambassador to the United Nations, in a speech supporting America’s position on Iraq, added an innocuous phrase that could have been seen as deviating from that support. The Bush administration called up his foreign minister and demanded that he be formally reprimanded within an hour. The ambassador now seethes when he talks about U.S. arrogance. Does this really help America’s cause in the world? There are dozens of stories like this from every part of the world. In diplomacy, style is often substance. Consider this fact: the Clinton administration used force on three important occasions—Bosnia, Haiti and Kosovo. In none of them did it take the matter to the United Nations Security Council, and there was little discussion that it needed to do so. Indeed, Kofi Annan later made statements that seemed to justify the action in Kosovo, explaining that state sovereignty should not be used as a cover for humanitarian abuses. Today Annan has (wrongly) announced that American action in Iraq outside the United Nations will be “illegal.” While the Clinton administration—or the first Bush administration—was assertive in many ways, people did not seek assurances about its intentions. The Bush administration does not bear all the blame for this dramatic change in attitudes. Because of 9-11, it has had to act forcefully on the world stage and assert American power. But that should have been all the more reason to adopt a posture of consultation and cooperation while doing what needed to be done.
The point is to scare our enemies, not terrify the rest of the world.
Edited by bobdrake12, 17 March 2003 - 12:49 AM.