December 29, 2008
Mumbai revelations
As gruesome as they were, last month's terrorist attacks in Mumbai were a bold wake-up call. The ten attackers entered Mumbai by boat, fanned out across the city, and attacked and laid siege to many of its most notable landmarks. Over the span of several days, 171 people were killed. The brazenness of the attacks reminded Indians that terrorism could still strike them, even in their largest city. But it also served as a reminder to the rest of the world of something that should have become obvious: the relatively new threat of state-less Islamic terrorism is inextricably linked to the older, state-based tensions between India and Pakistan.
The animosities between India and Pakistan stretch back to the founding of each country. When the British granted independence to its South Asian colony in 1947, two states were created: Muslim-majority Pakistan and predominantly Hindu India. The partition was a bloody and tumultuous affair, and it sowed the seeds for the tensions between the two countries that continue to this day. Pakistan and India have fought three major wars and numerous minor skirmishes over the past 60 years. The two countries' tit-for-tat nuclear weapons tests in 1998 did nothing to reduce the geopolitical or religious tensions, though it certainly raised the stakes of the rivalry to frightening new levels.
A source of much of much of the tension between India and Pakistan is the disputed territory of Kashmir. Uneasily and artificially divided by a “line of control” for the past 60 years, Kashmir has become a symbol of the tortured and seemingly intractable rivalry between India and Pakistan. In recent decades, one of Pakistan's preferred methods for exerting pressure in Kashmir has been supporting militant groups in the Indian-controlled portion of the territory. Pakistan officially denies supporting such groups, but it is widely suspected that they continue to receive protection (if not outright support) from forces within the Pakistani military, particularly from the powerful Inter-Services Intelligence agency (ISI). One such group is Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT), which was founded in Afghanistan in the early 1990s and maintains connections with the Taliban and al Qaeda. LeT has become notorious, however, as one of the more vicious militant groups operating in Kashmir. Although it denies responsibility for the Mumbai attacks, the sole attacker captured alive after the assault claimed that he was a member of LeT, and other evidence seems to confirm the group's culpability. This has only served to increase tensions between India and Pakistan.
LeT's apparent complicity in the Mumbai attacks has immediate implications for U.S. counter-terrorism policy and for the incoming Obama administration. For one thing, any spike in tensions between nuclear-armed powers is automatically of interest to the United States. Energy, attention, and resources that could be applied elsewhere must be redirected toward this crisis. Ideologically, however, the threat displayed by LeT in Mumbai is not all that different than the threat posed by al Qaeda and its offshoots in the West. In the scope and prioritization of their objectives, the two groups are broadly similar. Each has a near-term, practical objective that drives the bulk of their operational activity. For LeT, this near-term goal is the expulsion of Indian forces from Kashmir, and for al Qaeda, it is the expulsion of U.S. forces Muslim lands.
But each group also has a longer-term objective, based on a more generalized, extremist ideology that serves more as an abstract inspiration than a practical, operational blueprint. In these longer-term goals, LeT and al Qaeda are kindred spirits. LeT hopes to restore Islamic rule across South Asia, and al Qaeda wants to restore the Islamic caliphate over all of the lands it laid claim to hundreds of years ago. Each group draws its long-term inspiration from the same radical font.
Ideology is a tough thing to defeat. In a more practical sense, however, groups such as LeT and al Qaeda can be targeted by military means, and it is in this context that the Mumbai attacks will most directly affect U.S. policy. As tensions rise between India and Pakistan, India will try to send a message by moving more troops to Kashmir and to its border with Pakistan. For its part, Pakistan will seek to defend its borders (and its honor) by reinforcing its forces in Kashmir and along its eastern frontier. Those reinforcements will come from Pakistan's other border, with Afghanistan, where they nominally have been securing restless tribal areas and preventing Taliban and al Qaeda forces from using the region as a base for operations in Afghanistan. So far, however, Pakistan has not been effective in this mission. The situation in Afghanistan has deteriorated greatly over the past year, in large part due to the ease with which Taliban and insurgent forces can move across the Afghanistan-Pakistan border for resupply and repositioning. If the border is porous now, it will become far more dangerous if Pakistan moved troops away from the area to bolster its defenses against India.
In Afghanistan, U.S. and NATO troops are trying to ensure stability and defeat a growing Taliban insurgency. President-elect Obama campaigned on a pledge to end the war in Iraq and bolster the U.S. effort in Afghanistan, where the U.S. mission has long been perceived as more justified and appropriate than the elective invasion of Iraq (for more, see The Water's Edge, July 2008). It was from Afghanistan that Osama bin Laden planned the 9/11 attacks, and it was there that the hijackers were trained. After Afghan mujahideen expelled the Soviet invaders in 1989, the United States abandoned its former allies, leaving a chaotic power vacuum that allowed the Taliban to seize power and granted al Qaeda a safe haven.
If history teaches any lesson about U.S. involvement in Afghanistan, then, it is that the mission should be completed. But with the situation rapidly deteriorating in that country, a military worn-out by years of deployment in Iraq, and a growing economic crisis at home, many commentators and even some Obama supporters are questioning the wisdom of sending more troops to Afghanistan. It is a country with a long reputation for resisting outside invaders, and if Osama bin Laden hasn't been captured yet, he likely won't be caught with a few thousand additional soldiers.
Another school of thought takes a more nuanced position. Afghanistan remains an important country for the United States, and it would be unsafe and unwise to simply leave. At the same time, sending more troops to the country would be insufficient to defeat the insurgency and could, in fact, only make it worse. Instead, the United States must pursue a more wide-ranging strategy, in terms of both methodology (military support as well as economic support) and geography (stabilizing Afghanistan, demanding accountability from Pakistan, and urging restraint from India). Obama seems to be adopting a position along these lines: “We're going to have to make a series of not just military but also diplomatic moves that fully enlist Pakistan as an ally in that region, that lessen tensions between India and Pakistan, and then get everybody focused on rooting out militancy in a terrain, a territory, that is very tough.”
In a very straightforward way, then, the Mumbai attacks will have a direct effect on U.S. counter-terrorism policy. The attacks were launched by a group that has connections with the Taliban and al Qaeda and that is being protected by Pakistan's ISI. This raises tensions between Pakistan and India, distracting the former from its already meager efforts to support the U.S. mission in Afghanistan and tempting the latter to exact revenge on its long-standing rival. The crux of this geopolitical maze is, of course, Pakistan. Directly or indirectly, it fosters violence and instability in both Afghanistan and India, and its fragile democracy is wracked by corruption, economic woe, and competing factions within its own military. If Osama bin Laden is still alive, he is probably in Pakistan. And to make the situation even more unsettling, Pakistan also has nuclear weapons. Instead of an Afghanistan strategy, then, President-elect Obama is likely to think more in terms of a Pakistan strategy, or at the very least a regional one. He is fortunate that members of his own nascent administration have already thought along similar lines. During the Democratic primaries, Obama and Vice President-elect Joe Biden (then a fellow presidential candidate) shared similar views on Pakistan. They supported efforts to increase non-military aid to the country but to tie further military aid to the Pakistan's actual performance in shutting down Taliban safe havens within its borders (for more, see The Water's Edge, November 2007).
As horrific as the Mumbai attacks were, they serve as a potent reminder that South Asia's security challenges are deeply interconnected. Any policy that truly hopes to address them must encompass Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India in a coherent manner and recognize that resolving the deep-seated interstate tensions could help to undermine the region's potent intrastate (and state-less) threats. Already, rumors are swirling that Obama may appoint a high-powered special envoy to focus exclusively on South Asia; Richard Holbrooke, negotiator of the Dayton Accords that ended the war in Bosnia in the 1990s, has been floated as a potential appointee to this post. If these rumors are true, he may find that bringing peace to the Balkans was easy by comparison.
Foreign Policy Association, 28 December 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:53 PM to Asia, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
November 28, 2008
Great expectations
The election of Barack Obama this month was a historic moment not just for the United States but for much of the world, as well. Polls taken in other countries prior to the election showed that Obama was an overwhelming favorite for much of the world's population. After eight years of the George Bush's presidency, there is a strong national and international consensus for a change in U.S. foreign policy. In many ways, Obama will be able to deliver on this promise. But as the president-elect himself has emphasized, the expectations for radical change must be realistic. They will be tempered by the nature of the presidency and by Obama's own policy positions.
After Democrats won majorities in the Senate and the House of Representatives in 2006, there was a great hope among many party members that the foreign policy shortfalls of the Bush administration could be quickly fixed or reversed. These hopes went largely unfulfilled—the United States did not withdraw from Iraq, the situation in Afghanistan continued to deteriorate, and little progress was made to adopt a global policy to address climate change. Part of this disappointment was preordained. Many Democratic congressional candidates took advantage of the unpopularity of the Iraq war by vociferously opposing it. Once elected, however, all that a single congressman could do was cast a lone vote or lend his individual voice in support of the various bills that would have cut funding for the occupation. These individual legislators were single pieces of a much larger deliberative body, and even when operating collectively as a legislative majority, they only possessed a crude and indirect means to affect foreign policy. Of course, campaigning on such a message would not have served their purposes, and in many other respects, the Democratic Congress has made its influence felt. But it has not shifted the course of U.S. foreign policy in the manner that many had expected or hoped
Although Congress' role in foreign policy is important, it is not nearly as indispensable as the president's. Even before the Democratic victories in 2006, it was clear that major foreign policy changes could only be implemented with a change in presidential administration (for more, see Capitol Watch, August 2006). President Obama will find many opportunities to immediately and directly change U.S. foreign policy. At the most immediate level, he can appoint the diplomatic corps of his choosing, from Secretary of State, to Undersecretaries, to ambassadors. The change of administration will also attract thousands of experts and analysts who are ideologically aligned with Obama but who had spurned government service during the Bush years. Through this network of new appointments and through his own offices, Obama can set the tone for U.S. diplomacy. If he wants to engage Iran in a more direct form of negotiation over its nuclear program, he can do so, with little interference.
It is in the realm of national security policy that Obama may be able to best deliver on some of his more popular campaign promises. One of Obama's greatest attributes during the campaign was his record of early opposition to the invasion of Iraq and his proposal to withdraw most U.S. combat troops from that country within 16 months. As the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, President Obama will be able to accomplish this simply by ordering it. Likewise, he can order additional troops to deploy to Afghanistan, as he has promised, and direct the immediate closure of the detention facilities at Guantanamo Bay.
In issuing such orders, he will also likely face major constraints, many of which will be beyond his control. The U.S. military is greatly over-stretched. Managing a simultaneous withdrawal of forces from Iraq and a build-up of forces in Afghanistan may not be feasible logistically in the timeframe that Obama desires. Foreign allies may be reticent to support some of Obama's policies; despite his international popularity, Obama is still an American president, and the United States will always have interests that differ from much of the rest of the world. And as much as he may wish to close the Guantanamo Bay detention facilities, he will still face a vexing question: what to do with the detainees? (for more, see Capitol Watch, June 2006)
Obama will also face constraints of perception. These will not necessarily limit his freedom of action, but they may lead many of his supporters to be disappointed in his emerging presidency. It is true that Obama's early opposition to the Iraq invasion distinguished him during the election, even among his opponents in the Democratic primary. But despite attempts by supporters and opponents alike to use this opposition to define him as a left-wing partisan, Obama has never been particularly ideological in his policy positions. He has consistently emphasized his preference for pragmatism over ideology, especially in terms of foreign policy (for more, see Election Watch, August 2007). He supports a withdrawal from Iraq, but he also wants to expand the size of the military and deploy more troops to Afghanistan. He is strongly opposed to the prison at Guantanamo Bay, but he voted in favor of the controversial FISA bill this summer that granted retroactive immunity to telecommunications companies. Voters expecting a radical, liberal change in U.S. foreign policy will find themselves disappointed, but part of the fault will lie with them. Obama may not always be the president these voters expected to receive, but he will likely be the one that he campaigned to be.
Regardless of his own positions, there will be many policies that Obama will not be able to change on his own. Many of his high-level appointments will require Senate confirmation, and anything that requires money (which is essentially everything) will require the consent of Congress, at the very least. Legislators will certainly have a role to play. But as we have seen over the past two years, the legislature is clearly the inferior branch of government in terms of foreign policy. This is, of course, by design. No single branch has exclusive control of any policy domain. Near the end of the presidential campaign, as Obama's victory became more certain, many Republicans began campaigning on the virtue of divided government, in which different parties would control the different branches of government. Essentially, they argued that an Obama presidency must be balanced by a Republican Congress, or at least by a barely-Democratic one. In this manner, the inherent, institutional constraints on the federal government would be amplified by partisan divisiveness. Divided government has a long history in the United States, but this year, it was overwhelmed by the wave of support for Obama and popular opposition to the Bush administration.
The single party control of the presidency and Congress created by this election will be particularly robust. In the Senate, Democrats will be very close to the all-important 60 vote threshold, which is the tally needed in order to end debate and scuttle opposition filibusters. In a sense, the situation is the nearest the United States could ever come to a parliamentary system, in which the executive, by definition, is determined by the majority party in the legislature. Single party control, of course, is not enough, and the interests of the president and of 535 individual legislators will never be in perfect alignment. The president and Congress each has their own institutional prerogatives to protect, and these prerogatives exist independent of political party. Presidents Carter, Clinton, and Bush each presided over congressional majorities of their own party, and each found legislators to be frustratingly independent on many occasions, if not consistently. For President Obama, much will depend on his artfulness in dealing with Congress, and on the congressional leadership's willingness to collaborate on the president's agenda.
What may really determine the effectiveness of President Obama on the global stage, even more than single-party control of Congress, is timing. There is a general consensus among most policymakers and politicians that the United States is facing its most severe economic crisis in decades and that any solution will need to be global in nature. Although the situation in Iraq has improved recently, over 100,000 U.S. troops remain in that country; their future, and the timing and nature of their eventual withdrawal, will need to be managed carefully. The deteriorating situation in Afghanistan demands a new U.S. strategy. An increasingly assertive Russia will become even less inclined to consent to U.S. interests; the growing influence of China will need to be managed artfully.
Essentially, the problems that will face President Obama on January 20 will be so profound that the pressure to act boldly to solve them may outweigh the inherent constraints that typically prevent significant policy change. That Obama himself has already become a historic figure will only add to the sense of urgency once he takes office—it will take fairly strong policy convictions for a legislator to stand in the way of history. In short, the question of how effective Obama can be in the realm of foreign policy will pit the urgency of the moment and the unique nature of this president, on one hand, against the entrenched institutional prerogatives and an inherent tendency for inaction, on the other. We will know the answer soon enough.
Foreign Policy Association, 28 November 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 03:03 PM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
October 24, 2008
Electoral conclusion
Election day is no longer weeks, months, or years away. In a few short days, Americans will elect either Barack Obama or John McCain as president. If the race has seemed interminable, that's because in many respects it has been. The jockeying for the Republican and Democratic nominations began as soon as John Kerry conceded in November 2004, and the pace has never really slowed since then. From the standpoint of pure theater, the process has been extraordinary, for both those who love politics and those who loathe it. But from the standpoint of sound policy and good governance, it is important to reflect on whether the custom of the “non-stop campaign” is a useful thing.
Arguably, the lengthy primary campaigns worked well for both parties. Hillary Clinton was long considered the front-runner among Democrats, despite the national campaign experience of John Edwards and the star-potential and Barack Obama. Indeed, until the very end of 2007, Clinton held significant leads in almost every national poll and in most state polls (with the crucial exception of Iowa). Obama held huge public rallies and raised vast sums of money but his debate performances were uneven and he found it difficult to shake the impression that he was something of a policy lightweight.
But prolonged time on the campaign trail proved to be a determining factor for each candidate. The presumptive nature of Hillary Clinton's campaign did not always wear well and left the door open to plausible alternatives. The inconsistencies between John Edwards' words and actions seemed to multiply over time, raising concerns about his candidacy. And Barack Obama's organizational and fundraising skills over the long months of 2007 kept his candidacy solvent as his gained national exposure and experience. Even after the primary elections finally began and the race devolved into a tough slog between Obama and Clinton, each candidate benefited from the lengthy race. Obama proved he could handle a tough, national campaign, and after her initials setbacks in January and February 2008, Clinton was able to adjust her strategies to ensure that the race persisted until June.
In the Republican race, John McCain entered as the front-runner due to his national exposure and his appealing biography. But as 2007 wore on, he did not maintain that position. Rudy Giuliani and Mitt Romney raised more money and led in more polls, Ron Paul earned a passionate grassroots following, Fred Thompson was drawn into the race on a wave of enthusiasm, and Mike Huckabee saw a late boom in popularity. For a significant portion of the year, party insiders and reporters wrote off John McCain's campaign. But the length of the primary season gave him the opportunity to retool his campaign, and he eventually secured the Republican nomination well before the Democrats settled their battle.
The length of the Republican race also provided McCain and the other candidates an opportunity to reframe their message to match the particular political moment. President Bush's popularity has been steadily declining over the past few years, and as the Republican primary progressed, the candidates were forced to modulate their levels of overt support for the president. Likewise, the situation in Iraq seemed to improve markedly over the course of 2007. This worked to the great benefit of McCain, who had long emphasized his criticism of former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld's handling of the war as well as his support of Bush's newer “surge” strategy, which coincided with the declining levels of violence in that country.
Although the length and intensity of this particular presidential campaign is unprecedented, it should not have been unanticipated. The lengthy campaign season is a product of the fundamental structure of U.S. politics. The Constitution provides for a presidential executive, with term lengths and even election dates specified in the text itself. This means two things. First, everyone knows when elections will be held. Each party has developed extensive organizational machinery around the chronological constant that presidents are elected every four years, on the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. This has lead to an arms race, of sorts. If one party begins its primary campaign in earnest one year before the election in a given cycle, the opposing party will begin to campaign 18 months before election day in the next cycle. State laws, party regulations, and simple custom govern how early the actual voting begins. But no such constraints exist on organizing, fundraising, and otherwise laying the groundwork for the voting itself.
Second, the system is not perfectly responsive to changes in popular opinion. Essentially, electing the president represents a poll of U.S. public opinion, held once every four years. But public opinion—and political reality—changes far more frequently than that. Just compare the state of U.S. and global politics in November 2000, in November 2004, and November 2008. The most important issues each year vary so greatly as to be nearly unrecognizable from election cycle to election cycle. Certainly, no one in 2000 could have predicted what would be the most important issues in 2004, nor could anyone in 2004 have identified the driving issues in 2008. Should new issues arise in between presidential elections, or should the president see great swings in popularity, the electorate has no means of formally expressing their collective opinion. And because the president is not directly accountable to Congress, mid-term elections only have a limited effect in transmitting the views of the electorate toward the executive.
It is not this way in many other countries. Indeed, when compared with other democracies, the U.S. presidential system is relatively unique. In parliamentary systems such as in the United Kingdom and in Canada, the chief executive is the leader of the party or coalition with the most seats in parliament. By definition, they are directly accountable to the legislature. Elections for certain houses of parliament may be held on a fixed schedule, and elections for the main house must be held within a certain period (typically no more than 5 years) from the last vote. But election dates cannot be predicted infinitely into the future. Prime ministers either call for elections on their own, or parliaments can declare that they have “no confidence” in the prime minister and force an election. Although parliamentary systems have their own downsides, they do not face many of the same disadvantages of the U.S. presidential system. Because election dates cannot be predicted with certainty years (or decades) in advance, parties and candidates cannot hold perpetual campaigns in the same way that they can in the United States. And because events can force contemporaneous elections, the executive must be more responsive to the changing opinions of the electorate.
Canada, for example, held federal elections this year. On September 7, Prime Minister Stephen Harper asked Canada's Governor General to dissolve parliament and call for early elections. She did so, and parliamentary elections were held five weeks later, on October 14. Anyone following politics in Canada knew that Harper wanted to expand his Conservative plurality in Parliament to a full majority and that he was required by law to call for new elections within the next year. The fact that he called for elections when he did, then, was not a complete surprise, and members of parliament and their potential opponents had ample time to plot their campaign strategies. But the process in Canada provided for a specific beginning and end to the campaign season, which itself represented a fraction of the time spent by U.S. politicians campaigning for higher office (as president or in Congress). Harper surely called for an election when he did because he felt that it would benefit his party. But this belief was based on the political realities at the time; it was the public mood, in part, that prompted the government to let them cast their votes for who should represent them in Parliament. In the United States, the public mood has no effect on when the people choose their representatives.
The United States will never adopt a parliamentary system, and even if it could, there would be strong arguments to be made against doing so. But the length and expense and pageantry and (sometimes maddening) pervasiveness of political campaigns in the United States is not due simply to partisanship, or to cultural issues, or to 527 groups, soft money, or bundled contributions. It is simply a consequence of the way the U.S. government is built. This fact may be of little consequence as the election builds to its climax and as voters choose between Barack Obama and John McCain. But it is important to remember that as much as elections shape the structure of government, the structure of government also determines which kinds of politics are permissible and effective, and which are not. And if there isn't time to reflect on these issues now, there may be a spare moment or two on November 5.
Foreign Policy Association, 23 October 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 12:05 AM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
September 25, 2008
Vice and virtues
After months of presumption, Barack Obama and John McCain are now the official standard bearers of their respective parties. More newsworthy than the nominating conventions, however, were the relatively late announcements of each candidate’s vice presidential running mate. Obama proved many prognosticators right with his selection of Senator Joe Biden (D-DE), while McCain surprised many by picking Alaska Governor Sarah Palin to join his ticket. The role of vice presidential candidates during a presidential election—and indeed, the appropriate role of vice presidents in a governing administration—is frequently unclear and often highly variable. But the selections of both Biden and Palin have important foreign policy implications in this election. Each brings a very different set of ideas and skills to the race, and each reflects and reinforces the judgment that Obama and McCain have demonstrated so far in this campaign.
Politically, it is often said that the selection of a running mate is the first important executive decision that a presidential candidate must make. In the past, running mates have been selected to reinforce certain positive traits in the candidate, to compensate for perceived weaknesses, to provide ideological or geographical balance to the ticket, or to appeal to certain demographic groups. For the relatively inexperienced Obama, Biden provides the confidence and expertise of a long-serving, widely respected U.S. Senator. For a comparatively older McCain, who needed to mend his relationship with conservatives in his own party, Palin combines very conservative policy positions with the image of youth and vigor, while simultaneously appealing to disaffected supporters of Hillary Clinton.
Constitutionally, the vice president has only two jobs: to preside over the Senate and cast a vote in the case of a tie, and to become president (or act as president, depending on the situation) in the case of presidential disability, death, or resignation. Many former occupants of the office have described it in disparaging, often colorful terms. But if the thinly enumerated powers of the vice presidency have a flip side, it is that holders of the office (together with the president) can make of it what they will. The two most recent vice presidents have gone a long way toward dispelling the notion that the office is more ceremony than substance. President Clinton allowed Vice President Al Gore to assume an unprecedented range of responsibilities over certain issue areas and in his efforts to streamline the federal bureaucracy. His successor, Dick Cheney, has even greater influence, to the point that many people believe that he is the driving force behind the Bush administration’s foreign policies. Now that the precedent for a strong vice presidency has been established, the selection of a running mate has taken on an importance well beyond electoral politics.
Joe Biden has been in the U.S. Senate for 35 years, and he has run unsuccessfully for president twice. Aside from his longevity in Congress (and his occasional loquaciousness), Biden is known as a foreign policy expert. He has been either Chairman or ranking minority member of the foreign relations committee since 1997, and he is a leading voice for the Democratic Party on matters of foreign policy and national security. Compared to other Democrats, Biden is generally considered to be more hawkish and more amenable to the use of U.S. force abroad. In the 1990s, he was a strong advocate for confronting Slobodan Milosevic, the Serbian leader who oversaw the bloody ethnic conflict that engulfed the former Yugoslavia. He voted to give President Bush the authority to attack Iraq in 2002, and in his abortive presidential campaign last year, he championed a plan to create a more strictly federal Iraq, with distinct Kurdish, Sunni, and Shiie regions. Both positions stood in contrast to Obama’s, but Biden did seem to share many of Obama’s thoughts on Pakistan (for more, see The Water’s Edge, November 2007).
In many ways, Sarah Palin is the opposite of Joe Biden. She presents an entirely different set of foreign policy credentials; many would say that she has none whatsoever. To be sure, such critiques are grounded in partisan politics. But even by an objective assessment, foreign policy is not Sarah Palin’s strength. She clearly knows this. Initial attempts by the McCain campaign to defend Palin’s foreign policy credentials included references to Alaska’s proximity to Russia and to Palin’s less-than-two year leadership of the Alaska National Guard. Such clumsy political fixes have largely been abandoned, and as Palin makes herself more available to the media, her foreign policy thinking (if not her experience) is coming into focus. She has echoed McCain’s aggressive views toward Russia and has called for admitting both Ukraine and Georgia into NATO (for more, see The Water’s Edge, August 2008). She is adamant that Iran should not be permitted to obtain nuclear weapons and in her insistence that the United States cannot “second guess” the steps that Israel may take to defend itself. Palin has voiced support for a policy of pre-emptive military action but not necessarily for preventative action, saying that if “a strike is imminent against American people, we have every right to defend our country.”
This election, however, is a presidential election. Despite the surprising discretion in how they can execute their powers, vice presidents have been and always will be secondary to the president. The choice in this election is between Obama and McCain, and no one else. But each candidate’s vice presidential pick reinforces existing impressions about their political characters. For Obama, Biden was a “safe” choice. He was a known quantity: unquestionably experienced and skilled in the ways of legislative politics. No one doubts that he would be able to serve as president, if circumstances called for it. In many ways, he is a living, breathing contrast to Obama’s message of “change.” But despite perceptions to the contrary, Obama’s political history has always been marked by cautiousness and a certain methodical sobriety. Especially for a candidate as new and different as Obama, a “safe” running mate makes a lot of sense.
For McCain, the selection of Palin is risky. It reminds voters of McCain’s “maverick” persona, in which he happily bucks his own party and takes unpopular stands for principled reasons. By dint of her gender, her policy positions, her life story, and her raw political skill, Palin was a bold vice presidential selection. It generated excitement for a lagging campaign and solidified support among several key constituencies. Palin has become a media sensation and has rekindled excitement among Republicans for their ticket. But like any risky decision, McCain’s selection of Palin has a potential downside. By any standard, Palin has limited government experience and foreign policy expertise. In her limited interaction with the press, Palin’s intuitive grasp of foreign policy issues has often seemed tenuous. For many, the question of whether she is prepared to be president is not easily answerable. This would be cause for concern in any presidential campaign. But in the case of McCain—a 72-year-old former POW with a history of cancer—the concern becomes far more visceral.
One can surmise about what kinds of vice presidents Biden and Palin might be. Obama has spoken at length about how he wants subordinates who will openly present their views and freely question his own beliefs. Although they agree on broad foreign policy principles, Obama and Biden do not hold identical positions. And even Joe Biden’s most fervent critics would acknowledge that he is not shy about speaking his mind. In an Obama administration, Biden could be a very influential advisor, and given his deep legislative experience, he could also have significant governing responsibilities of his own.
McCain, for his part, has a large reservoir of foreign policy expertise. He is fluent on a wide range of international issues and he is confident in his policy positions. This stands in stark contrast to Palin. With the possible exception of energy policy, it is difficult to conceive of a situation in which McCain would seek Palin’s counsel on an issue of international consequence. Much of Palin’s appeal would vanish on Election Day; if the Republican ticket wins, she would have fulfilled her primary purpose. This is certainly a legitimate rationale for picking a running mate. But it appears very different than the rationale employed by Obama.
If nothing else, Biden and Palin will serve as prominent surrogates for their respective tickets. Whether they generate additional votes for their respective tickets, and how they might reshape the vice presidency in their own image, is unknowable for now. The first real opportunity to answer these questions will be at the vice presidential debate, to be held on October 8. The final opportunity will be one month later, on Election Day itself.
Foreign Policy Association, 25 September 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 09:09 PM to U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
August 29, 2008
Application received
In a month in which the Beijing Olympics, the impending party conventions, and vice presidential speculation should have been the main political news, an overseas war rudely interrupted. The conflict between Russia and Georgia, ostensibly over the breakaway Georgian regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, has reignited Cold War-era suspicions of an assertive, nuclear-armed Russia. These suspicions are greatest in places like Georgia, Ukraine, and the other countries once dominated by the Soviet Union. But they are also having an effect on the U.S. presidential race. Although the Russia-Georgia conflict has not unearthed any new insights into the campaigns of Barack Obama or John McCain, it has solidified the existing and substantial distinctions in their foreign policy thinking.
This conflagration is just the latest chapter in a long history of conflict in the Caucasus region. Located at a confluence of religions, ethnicities, and trade routes, Georgia and its neighbors are wedged between the perennial powers of Turkey (and before that, the Ottoman Empire), Iran (Persia), and Russia (the Soviet Union). Since achieving independence amid the fall of the Soviet Union nearly 20 years ago, Georgia has experienced a variety of secessionist movements, most notably in South Ossetia and Abkhazia. Although animosity between South Ossetians and Georgians is genuine, the situation has hardly been helped by Russia. In an attempt to maintain sway in its former territories and along its present-day periphery, Russia supported these secessionist movements by providing passports to South Ossetians and Abkhazians and by deploying its own “peacekeepers” in the area. Tensions have been building all year, and in early August, Georgian troops moved to capture the capital of South Ossetia. Russia responded, not only evicting Georgian forces from South Ossetia, but also from Abkhazia and from parts of Georgia itself.
The onset of the conflict caught Obama at the beginning of a weeklong vacation in Hawaii. Although his holiday prevented Obama from engaging the subject on the campaign trail, he did issue a statement that called on Georgia and Russia to show restraint and to “avoid an escalation to full scale war.” These relatively even-handed remarks were strengthened a few days later, after Russian forces had moved beyond South Ossetia, where the conflict had begun, into Abkhazia and Georgia proper: “No matter how this conflict started, Russia has escalated it well beyond the dispute over South Ossetia and invaded another country.” Most notably, he reiterated his desire to pursue NATO membership negotiations with Georgia. Obama has since sharpened his criticism of Russia for refusing to abide by cease-fire terms and for suggesting that it would formally recognize the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia.
McCain, for his part, was not on vacation when the conflict began, and he seemed quite content to address the issue in unambiguous terms. His initial statement was far harsher toward Russia than Obama's, and it did not acknowledge any Georgian culpability in igniting the conflict: “Russia should immediately and unconditionally cease its military operations and withdraw all forces from sovereign Georgian territory.” He also called for NATO to “review measures [it] can take to contribute to stabilizing this very dangerous situation.” McCain later claimed that “Russian aggression against Georgia is both a matter of urgent moral and strategic importance to the United States of America,” and that “the fate of Georgia should be of grave concern to Americans and all people who welcomed the end of a divided of Europe.”
Neither Georgia nor Russia is blameless for this war. Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili acted recklessly in attacking his far larger neighbor; he may have assumed that the United States or NATO to come to his country's aid. Since taking office in 2003, Saakashvili has eagerly sought NATO membership for his country in an attempt to tie it more closely to the West. Given the history of Russian dominance in the Caucasus and its provocative actions in Abkhazia and South Ossetia (not to mention in Chechnya in the 1990s), it is only logical that Saakashvili sought such security assurances. Russia, however, had deliberately provoked Georgia by offering Russian citizenship to South Ossetians and Abkhazians and by placing “peacekeepers” in both regions. It reacted disproportionately when it invaded Georgia proper, blockaded its ports, and strongly hinted at its desire to depose Saakashvili.
As the conflict progressed, Russia's overreaction and aggressiveness became more obvious and Georgia's recklessness and presumptuousness receded into the background. Thus McCain's early, hawkish statements toward Russia seemed more prescient than Obama's even-handed approach. Indeed, McCain has taken an aggressive stance toward Russia throughout the presidential campaign. He has called for Russia to be kicked out of the G8 group of industrialized nations, and he is fond of describing his first meeting with Russia's current prime minister: “I looked into Mr. [Vladimir] Putin's eyes and I saw three things — a K and a G and a B.” At times, McCain's enthusiasm seemed to get the better of him. He declared at a campaign rally that he personally told Saakashvili that he spoke for every American in proclaiming, “we are all Georgians.” And without a trace of irony, he insisted that, “in the 21st century, nations don't invade other nations.”
Though he seemed to lack McCain's prescience about Russia's motivations and behavior, Obama became harsher towards Russia as the conflict unfolded. Broadly speaking, the reactions of McCain and Obama to the conflict confirm their emerging foreign policy identities. McCain is aggressive, assertive, and forceful in identifying clear adversaries and in speaking or acting against them. For him, the threats to U.S. security are always clear and discrete: Iraq, al Qaeda, Russia, etc. Obama is more deliberate, consultative, and cooperative in working to diffuse threats with a minimum of bluster or excessive rhetoric. In Obama's worldview, not all adversaries will be clearly defined. Correctly identifying the threat may be just as important (if not more so) than actually combating it. Even though the conflict in Georgia was far from straightforward, with plenty of culpability to go around, it could be handily portrayed as a big, scary, authoritarian Russia invading a small, brave, democratic Georgia. This is an easy construction to understand, with a clear “good guy” and “bad guy.” Such an issue is tailor-made for McCain's worldview.
Although this worldview may have its advantages, its blunt assertiveness can overshadow the important historical subtleties at the root of Russia's current behavior. After the end of the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Union, Russia became a weaker, more insecure country. But instead of disbanding or reorganizing itself, NATO—the alliance explicitly created to fight the Cold War and counter the Soviet threat—actually expanded, accepting as members countries in Eastern Europe that had once been under Soviet domination. As NATO moved closer to its border, and as the alliance flexed its muscles over Bosnia and Kosovo in the 1990s, Russia's sense of its own insecurity grew deeper. But at the time, it was too weak to force a change in Western behavior, and many U.S. and NATO policy makers took Russia for granted.
Russia's immediate neighbors, however, did not. The countries of Eastern Europe understandably sought NATO membership, and more recently, so too did Ukraine and Georgia. For Russia, the encroachment of a “victorious” NATO toward its own borders represented not just a security threat, but an affront and an insult. If they had won the Cold War, why did NATO need to grow? Why did it even need to continue to exist? President Bush's unilateral behavior, such as his abrogation of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, the invasion of Iraq, and the recognition of Kosovo, added insult to injury. But unlike in the 1990s, Russia's political power was consolidated under Vladimir Putin and its economic power was bolstered by a huge resource boom. Russia's invasion of Georgia had little to do with South Ossetia or Abkhazia. It was more about reasserting a long-dormant dominance over its impudent neighbors and reigniting a sense of national pride after nearly 20 years of perceived victimhood, disrespect, and insecurity.
In this context, it is Obama's more deliberative worldview that strikes upon an ironic kind of logic. For all of its real benefits, NATO's rapid expansion in the 1990s was a key contributor to Russia's sense of victimhood. Although the alliance has not yet begun formal membership negotiations with Georgia, the fact that its candidacy has been seriously considered—and strongly backed by the United States—has not gone unnoticed by Russia. But by launching its invasion, Russia has proven beyond any doubt that it poses a threat to Georgia. Its actions constitute the best case yet for Georgian membership in NATO. And Obama, counter-intuitively, seems to realize this. His response to the conflict lacked the aggressive bluster of McCain's, and he seemed to appreciate the complexities inherent in the conflict. Yet he simultaneously embraced the one policy—NATO expansion—perhaps most responsible for Russia's false sense of insecurity. But conditions change, and the policy makers that realize it are the ones that succeed.
Foreign Policy Association, 28 August 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 02:11 AM to Europe, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
July 24, 2008
Foreign process
Although the Iraq war has been a dominant foreign policy issue in the presidential election, it certainly is not the only conflict to demand the candidates' attention. The conflict in Afghanistan has gained increasing prominence in the campaigns of Republican John McCain and Democrat Barack Obama, who just paid his first visit to the country during his highly publicized overseas tour. This subtle shift of emphasis is due not only to increased levels of violence in Afghanistan, but also to the concurrent (and relative) decrease of violence in Iraq. U.S. policy in both countries is inextricably linked—it is impossible to sensibly discuss the policy for one war without considering the other. At the same time, the politics of the Afghanistan war are unique. They demonstrate that the right policy alone may not be enough to achieve the desired objectives.
The war in Afghanistan has always held a unique place in U.S. politics, especially compared to its more prominent counterpart in Iraq. It was, and is, the conflict most directly tied to the attacks of 9/11; the country had served as host to the al Qaeda leaders who planned the attacks and functioned as a training ground for the attackers themselves. In the days following 9/11, Congress overwhelmingly passed (with only a single dissenting vote in the House) the Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Terrorists, under which the war in Afghanistan has been waged. The initial invasion was very successful. The Bush administration assembled a broad international coalition, the ruling Taliban regime in Afghanistan was quickly overthrown, and a pluralistic political process was set in motion.
Since 2002, the war in Afghanistan has been somewhat overshadowed by the threat, real or perceived, from Iraq and the ensuing invasion and occupation of that country. But as the Iraq war maintained its grip on the headlines over the years, the conflict in Afghanistan remained persistently unresolved. Bin Laden not only remained free, but he and his lieutenants released communiques on a semi-regular basis. Remnants of al Qaeda's infrastructure seemed to have relocated and re-established themselves in Pakistan, just across the border from Afghanistan. The Taliban did not disintegrate, and in fact seemed to grow in size and capabilities over the years. In recent months, the level of violence in Afghanistan has increased notably. In May, coalition casualties in Afghanistan exceeded those in Iraq for the first time—a pattern that was repeated the next month. Since then, the Taliban has carried out a spate of spectacular attacks, including an assault on a Kandahar jail that freed hundreds of prisoners, a suicide bombing outside of the Indian embassy in Kabul that killed dozens, and a direct attack on a U.S. base in Kunar Province that killed nine soldiers.
As things have appeared to get worse in Afghanistan, the situation in Iraq has seemed to improve; hence the subtle shift of emphasis in the presidential campaign. Among all of the candidates, Obama has been uniquely positioned to frame the debate. Since the beginning of the nomination contests, he has been the only major candidate of either party who both supported the invasion of Afghanistan and opposed the initial invasion of Iraq. He made a point of this in the 2002 speech in which he announced his opposition to the forthcoming invasion of Iraq, specifically saying that he didn't oppose all wars, just “dumb wars.” Given the geopolitical realities at the time (al Qaeda had not been conclusively defeated in Afghanistan) and the facts that have since been confirmed (Iraq had neither weapons of mass destruction nor a meaningful relationship with al Qaeda or 9/11), it is remarkable that Obama was the only major candidate who could claim such an auspicious record.
In the campaign, Obama has taken advantage of his record and used it as evidence of superior judgment. His current position on Afghanistan is a natural evolution. He views the war in Iraq as a distraction from the continuing threat posed by al Qaeda. By withdrawing the majority of U.S. forces from that country, he would gain the flexibility to send at least two additional combat brigades Afghanistan. He proposes an extra $1 billion in non-military aid to Afghanistan, with an emphasis on rural development, drug eradication, and anti-corruption initiatives. He has also reiterated his commitment to both increase non-military aid to Pakistan and to strike at al Qaeda targets in that country, if Pakistan is unable or unwilling to do so itself (for more, see The Water’s Edge, November 2007).
McCain, for his part, has focused more on Iraq than on Afghanistan. Although he supported the invasion of Iraq, he shares with Obama a point of distinction on that conflict. He was a critic of former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and was a vocal champion of the 2007 troop surge, which is partly responsible for the decreasing levels of violence in Iraq. McCain used these points to distinguish himself during the Republican primary, and he continues to emphasize them as evidence of his foreign policy acumen. Moving forward, McCain speaks often of the need to secure a “victory” in Iraq, and he dismisses any suggestion of significant troop withdrawals or timetables for departure (for more, see The Water’s Edge, June 2008).
All of this has a direct bearing on McCain's policy toward Afghanistan, which until recently was poorly defined. In a recent foreign policy address, McCain called for sending three additional combat brigades to Afghanistan and for U.S. forces there to adopt the counter-insurgency strategy that has produced the recent successes in Iraq: “What we need in Afghanistan is … a nationwide civil-military campaign plan that is focused on providing security for the population.” In terms of troop increases, at least, this position appears very similar to Obama's. But Afghanistan does not exist in isolation; tactics are not the same as strategy, and policy goals are useless without a plausible way to achieve them. Both Obama and McCain may want to send more combat brigades to Afghanistan. But given the severe strain that long-term, concurrent wars have placed on the armed forces, this will be hard for any president to do if troops are not redeployed from Iraq.
Even if the additional brigades could be sent, the few thousand soldiers they represent would not be sufficient to bring security to Afghanistan. Unlike in Iraq, many NATO allies operate alongside U.S. forces in Afghanistan. Some countries—most notably the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and Canada—permit their soldiers to engage in dangerous (and costly) counter-insurgency operations. But others, such as France and Germany, only allow their soldiers to operate in calmer portions of the country. This has generated understandable tensions in the alliance. Perhaps the greatest value of any additional U.S. troops in Afghanistan would be as force multipliers—as leverage to secure greater commitments from recalcitrant NATO allies or as confidence building measures for nascent Afghan governing institutions. It is perfectly reasonable and understandable that Obama and McCain would share the goal of a more secure Afghanistan. But the goals alone are not sufficient. Just as important is how policy makers align these goals with others (both allies and adversaries), rally support for their objectives, and build a sustainable basis for achieving them. In other words, diplomacy counts.
It is in this context that Obama made his overseas tour. To be sure, the trip was meant to bolster his image as a worldly figure, able to hold his own in the international arena. But a week long trip does not give a candidate foreign policy “experience.” Such experience can really only be gained through service in the executive branch—something that neither Obama nor McCain can claim. But after eight years of an administration widely perceived as being undiplomatic, and with global challenges far too great to solve unilaterally, Obama's trip was still more than just an electoral ploy. It was a way for him to demonstrate that his potential presidency would offer not just a substantive difference from Bush or McCain, but a stylistic one as well. A foreign policy is only as good as the process used to achieve it.
Foreign Policy Association, 24 July 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 11:29 PM to Europe, Middle East, Trans-geographical, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
June 26, 2008
Occupation justification
The war in Iraq is clearly one of the most important foreign policy issues in this year's presidential campaign. Arguably, it was the issue that single-handedly shaped the parties' nomination battles. The success of Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) rested in large part on his early (and then-unpopular) opposition to the Iraq invasion. Senator John McCain (R-IL) supported the invasion, but he staked his candidacy on his steady criticism of occupation policy and his steadfast (and politically risky) support for the 2007 troop surge. In the general election, the two candidates remain defined by their views on Iraq. As the presidential campaign unfolds, however, the situation in Iraq evolves as well, placing pressure on policy positions the candidates have barely changed over the past 18 months. But even as the candidates struggle to adapt to changing real-world conditions, their policy records will continue to define them.
Although Iraq has hardly become a stable or peaceful place, the good news in recent months is heartening. The rate of U.S. casualties has declined, the influence of foreign fighters and Sunni extremists has decreased, and the central government has had success in asserting its authority against Shiite militias in several parts of the country. These successes cannot be attributed to any single action or policy. The so-called “Sunni awakening,” in which Sunni tribal leaders have turned against the al Qaeda-inspired elements in their midst and allied with U.S. forces, has yielded positive results. The 2007 troop surge in Baghdad may partially account for the greater coherence and authority of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki's central government. Although military and civilian casualties continue to mount, they are climbing at a slower rate than in recent years. Unquestionably, this is all very good.
As the situation in Iraq has evolved, however, the public positions of Obama and McCain have remained relatively static, especially since the primary campaign began in early 2007. Obama has called for a phased withdrawal of all U.S. combat forces from Iraq over a 16-month period, at a rate of one or two brigades per month. He would allow for residual forces to remain in Iraq and the region to protect the U.S. embassy, to fight al Qaeda elements, and—if Iraq makes political progress—to continue training Iraqi security forces. He renounces any claim to permanent U.S. bases in Iraq. McCain, for his part, is a strong advocate of continuing the current strategy as implemented by General David Petraeus. His objective is a stable, prosperous, democratic, and peaceful Iraq that poses no threat to its neighbors. He is opposed to any significant troop withdrawals until that objective is achieved.
But before they launched their campaigns, each senator approached the situation in Iraq differently. Obama opposed the initial invasion itself. But after Saddam Hussein had been deposed, he did not immediately call for a withdrawal of U.S. troops. As late as 2005, he stated that, “U.S. forces are still a part of the solution in Iraq.” He explicitly favored a reduction of U.S. forces in Iraq (not a full withdrawal), and he opposed a specific timetable for any withdrawal. By 2007, shortly before he announced his presidential candidacy, he had settled on his present position. McCain supported the original invasion but became sharply critical of the Bush administration's handling of the occupation. Specifically, he said on several occasions that he had “no confidence' in then-Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and he consistently advocated for a larger troop presence in Iraq. Since the 2007 troop surge began—and the presidential campaign kicked off—McCain has largely supported the Bush administration's policy in Iraq, and he pledges to continue it.
None of this history should condemn either candidate. Indeed, it is good that policy makers adjust their positions as the real-world situation changes. Unfortunately, electoral politics places a premium on consistency, so until the election, neither Obama nor McCain are likely to radically alter the positions they adopted 18 months ago. But this doesn't mean that their records cannot (or should not) illuminate their potential policies as president, especially on the central question of how long U.S. troops should remain in Iraq.
At the end of this year, the UN resolution that formally permits U.S. troops to operate in Iraq will expire. The Bush administration is keen to provide a continuing legal framework for the U.S. occupation and has been actively negotiating two separate agreements with the Iraqi government. A Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) would codify the specific legal terms under which U.S. forces could operate in Iraq; the United States already has negotiated dozens of SOFAs with other countries that house U.S. troops. A “strategic framework agreement” likely would cover broader (and more contentious) issues such as the political, military, and economic relationship between the United States and Iraq and what functions U.S. troops could perform in Iraq. Reports have leaked that in negotiating these agreements, the Bush administration is seeking 58 permanent bases, control of Iraqi airspace, and immunity for troops and contractors.
Right now, neither Obama nor McCain would offer an absolute answer to the question, “how long will the United States stay in Iraq?” Obama would say that he would withdraw all combat troops in less than two years and he would disavow permanent bases, but he would remain vague about the size, location, and duration of the residual force he proposes. McCain is even more explicit in de-emphasizing the question. Earlier this year, he famously commented that he would not object to U.S forces remaining in Iraq for 100 years, and when questioned on that point in a recent interview, he noted that it is “not too important” when U.S. forces leave Iraq. The important thing, he said, was whether U.S. forces were suffering casualties. McCain highlighted the presence of U.S. troops in Japan, Korea, and Germany as examples of what he would consider acceptable analogues for Iraq.
Despite their respective ambiguity (or perhaps because of it), the policy records of Obama and McCain are particularly helpful in figuring out how they now interpret the role of U.S. forces in Iraq. In McCain's example, U.S. troops did not face insurgencies in Japan, Korea, or Germany like they do today in Iraq; by the time those occupations had begun in earnest, the wars that preceded them had largely concluded. Within a short period of time, each country had gained a stable and secure sovereign government. But even after the fighting had ended and stable governments had been formed, the fifty-year U.S. presence in those countries had a very specific purpose: to deter Communist aggression in the context of the Cold War. McCain's parallel, then, poses a very important question. Once the violence in Iraq is quelled, its government is stable, and U.S. troops are no longer taking casualties, what would be the objective of the remaining U.S. forces? Who would they be deterring, and in what context?
The answer to this question lies in the original rationale for the invasion itself, in the debate that raged in 2002 and early 2003. Supporters of the invasion used a variety of reasons to support their argument: Saddam Hussein was a tyrant and had to be toppled; he possessed weapons of mass destruction that presented a threat to others; he was allied with al Qaeda; a new, Arab democracy would be a beacon of change in the turbulent Middle East. None of these reasons, on their own, seemed to justify an invasion, and the Bush administration used them interchangeably.
Since then, many of the justifications for invasion have proven to be exaggerated or outright inaccurate. But one justification, alluded to in comments by policymakers since the invasion, was downplayed at the time: the geostrategic motivation. Iraq is in a very important corner of the globe, located near some of the United States' most valuable allies and some of its most distrusted adversaries. It also has a lot of oil. In other words, Iraq was a good place for the United States to plant its flag in the real-world game of Risk.
Sensible people may disagree about whether this geostrategic rationale was sufficient to justify the invasion of Iraq. But as it applies to the presidential candidacies of Obama and McCain, there is a clear difference. Obama opposed the introduction of U.S. forces into Iraq at the outset and has consistently renounced permanent bases there; nothing in his subsequent ambiguity about the specifics of occupation policy changes that. McCain supported the original invasion and is unabashed in his support for a continued U.S. presence in Iraq. Indeed, his “100 years” comment may be the most honest acknowledgment yet of the geostrategic rationale for invasion. In an electoral sense, this is a great thing. Beneath the candidates' superficial ambiguity, their positions are starkly different. In this election, on Iraq, the choice for voters is a real one.
Foreign Policy Association, 26 June 2008
Posted by Daniel Widome at 01:22 PM to Middle East, U. S. Politics | TrackBack (0)
