Wesley Lalich considers the future of an enduring system of governance.

Over the past decade, the global landscape has fundamentally changed, with nascent indicators of an end to Western hegemony appearing in tangible and sustainable forms. Whilst it has become modish to discuss China’s rise, it seems evident that even if the Middle Kingdom does not eclipse America, the combined weight of the emerging Asian nations, impressive growth in parts of South America and Africa, and a resurgent Russia all signal the relative decline of Western economic pre-eminence. Western countries undoubtedly enjoyed a half-millennium of exploring, exploiting and subjugating much of the globe, siring new societies in the Americas and Australia, and finally concluding in the last half-century that self-determination should apply beyond Europe. As the transition from a North Atlantic-centred global order to an Asia-Pacific-oriented world occurs, the lasting impact of Western economic and political ideology on emerging nations is unclear.

Whilst the current global recession has accelerated the splintering of the Washington Consensus, all Western societies would still consider a generally market-oriented economy and a liberal democracy to be the two basic pillars necessary for a successful state. China has been the most successful emerging economy and has achieved this without embracing these prescriptions. China has not democratised; and while it has embraced market economics, it has not broadly liberalised its economy or opened up to foreign competition, as advocated by the neo-classical economics of the Washington Consensus. This raises two points. First, as China engages more vigorously in the developing world, by pursuing natural resources and offering aid, will an alternative authoritarian development model supplant existing models that emphasise democracy? Second, is this even a cause for concern, or is liberal democracy likely to take hold in economically advanced societies, regardless of the model of development used?

The two key elements that have dominated the Western approach to development over the last 30 years are economic liberalisation and democracy-building. However, China, the leading emerging economy of this period, has not followed this path. China may have abandoned communism and injected capitalism into its economy, but the state still exercises broad economic control, and foreign ownership in domestic industries is usually limited to partnerships with Chinese firms. In fact, most Asian success stories of the post-war period, including South Korea and Taiwan, combined authoritarian rule with the protection of domestic industries and export-led growth. Until very recently, many developing countries had no choice but to adhere to Western development plans, or else monetary aid would not be forthcoming. China’s spectacular economic success, vast foreign currency reserves, and increasingly comfortable role as an emerging superpower have meant that it has not shied away from engaging in the developing world, particularly to secure access to natural resources. The numbers are telling. In 2003, China invested $300 million in African development. In 2007, the figure was nearly $3 billion.

Unlike assistance provided by Western governments and global institutions, China’s aid does not come with covenants on reducing corruption or respecting human rights. In recent years, there have been numerous examples of this. Recently, Nigeria – a major oil nation – decided to opt for untied Chinese aid to rebuild its rail network, instead of a World Bank loan that also involved tackling the corruption that cripples its rail system. Similar events transpired in Angola with the IMF, where hours before an aid agreement that included a transparency commitment was to be signed, the IMF was told that the Angolan Government was no longer interested in IMF finance, as China had offered a more attractive soft loan. China has also been extending foreign aid to its impoverished neighbours, such as Cambodia, Laos, and Mynamar, and was not timid about investing heavily in Sri Lanka to secure port facilities during the final stages of a recent conflict there, during which the Sri Lankan Government was accused of war crimes.

The more concerning aspect of the economic rise of an authoritarian country like China is not that it will obliterate democracy, but that it will alter current interpretations of the concept.

As China transforms into an economic superpower, its capacity to foster alternative avenues of development that de-emphasise democracy-building will become more pervasive and persuasive. First, it is worth remembering that, despite the success of liberal democracy in the last few decades – including the fall of communism, the cementation of democracy in Spain, Portugal and South America, and the democratisation of Taiwan and South Korea – its ascendancy is a relevantly recent occurrence. In the 1930s, as fascism was goose-stepping across Europe and the militaristic Japanese sun was blinding Asia with its might, the possibility of a future without a prevalence of democracy was real. Even at points in the Cold War, such as the launching of Sputnik by the Soviet Union and the perception that America was falling behind in the space race, it appeared that a communist dictatorship offered a viable alternate economic and political order. Thus, the current supremacy that rich-world democratic powers enjoy does not mean that it is the natural order of government for economically satiated nations. If China continues on its politically repressive path, while managing robust economic growth, the ability of Western countries to encourage other developing countries to embrace democracy and respect human rights will be diminished. Not only will the example of China reduce the assertion that democracy and transparency are essential ingredients for economic success, but Chinese aid could provide a ready substitute where international agencies and Western governments insist on attaching conditions to financial assistance.

The more concerning aspect of the economic rise of an authoritarian country like China is not that it will obliterate democracy, but that it will alter current interpretations of the concept. Civil and political rights have long been understood in the context of pluralistic liberal democracies, as the standards that have been set by the rich world. Although China is a one-party state, it has vibrant intellectual circles, policy centres, and think tanks, where the future of China is debated. These debates are part of the political process. Whilst there is no widespread agitation for free elections in China, unlike during the lead-up to the Tiananmen Square massacre, the Government is fairly responsive to the public will. For example, there has been a greater emphasis on developing a social safety net. This deliberative authoritarian model serves to prevent public dissatisfaction and create a degree of legitimacy, while circumventing civil and political rights. It is unlikely, but not beyond the pale, that in the coming years the rights narrative offered by prosperous authoritarian regimes dominates international discourse.

This brings us to the second question: whether, in the long term, any of this really matters. An economically thriving and market-oriented totalitarian state has not been tested for longevity since the fall of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan, and whether they would have remained tyrannical even if the Allied forces had not forcibly democratised them is an historical hypothetical. It seems counter-intuitive to suggest that a society that becomes accustomed to consumer choice in all avenues of life would be content with an authoritarian and repressive political sphere. The Chinese, and even Russian, publics’ complacency towards autocratic government is understandable considering the tumult of the Mao years and the sour association many Russians have with the politically free, but thoroughly chaotic, Yeltsin era. Much as Hitler provided stability and economic opportunity to the German people in the aftermath of the liberal and turbulent Weimar Republic, order and positive economic prospects in China and Russia could easily be weightier human considerations than concerns of free speech and freedom of association. If recent trends continue, and stability and economic success become the norm, it is unclear whether the citizens of authoritarian countries will remain content with their present political order.

Democracy will eventually prevail if one essential condition is met: that an authoritarian regime values economic growth above totalitarianism.

Democracy will eventually prevail if one essential condition is met: that an authoritarian regime values economic growth above totalitarianism. A regime that is adamant on remaining in power, such as the Mugabe regime in Zimbabwe, can do so by ruining the economy and strangling civil society. However, if a dynamic and growing economy is the pre-eminent consideration of a government, then an incremental erosion of totalitarian control would appear likely. Investment and technological innovation require a stable domestic environment, meaning that overt and violent political repression, capricious behaviour, and a lack of respect for such fundamentals as the rule of law are likely to inhibit economic growth.

Two examples lend credence to the notion that industrialised societies such as China will not remain totalitarian. South Korea and Taiwan were both ruled by right-leaning military dictatorships in the years following their respective civil wars. They nonetheless experienced exceptional export-led economic growth through the 1960s and 1970s. In the 1980s, as both were on the cusp of becoming high-income countries, civil society started to become more restless and vocal in its opposition, and there was a relatively peaceful and internally driven transition to democratic governance.

Two examples are hardly conclusive, and this has not been the case elsewhere; for instance, Singapore, which has grown wealthy, remains somewhat authoritarian. But to liberals and democrats who believe in a basic human inclination towards freedom and human rights, and the power of such ideals, it is not fantastical to suppose that a society could gravitate towards a system of governance that guarantees liberty. Liberal democracy has, in different eras, evolved gradually, violently, fitfully and occasionally peacefully, and whilst it requires vigilance to remain robust, it will thrive so long as it is not brutally suppressed. The global order is changing, with power gradually shifting away from the developed democracies. However, this by no means dims the future prospects of liberal democracy.

Wesley Lalich is in his second year of a Bachelor of Laws degree.

Genevieve Curtis explores the paradox of the Sino-African friendship.

Sub-Saharan Africa comprises 49 nations, with a combined gross domestic product less than that of Florida. It is a region whose slice of the global economic pie is shrinking by the day. Worse yet, it lacks the power to strategically negotiate a larger share in the international market. The shifting configurations of global power structures and intensified globalisation in all of its forms have led to burgeoning relations between China and Africa, with China presenting itself as an emerging economic power bloc and a threat to Western hegemony in the continent.

China’s rapid growth is fuelling the need for further resources and Beijing has cast its eye over untapped reserves, of oil particularly. China is the second-largest consumer of oil in the world and its role as the world’s workshop has necessitated what Leni Wild terms the ‘Sinosphere’. Trade between Africa and China has increased by 400 per cent since 2000 and there is no indication of a halt to the flourishing dynamism between the two countries. Some analysts have even given the relationship the hybrid nickname of ‘ChinAfrica’.

Deconstructing China’s African ‘Safari’

There is a danger in judging and deconstructing China’s ‘safari’ through a protectionist perspective. African nations have both the need and right to advance their own economic interests and trade with China, which has expanded their opportunities and economic growth. Many observers agree that China may be Africa’s golden ticket to stimulating a much-needed economic revival. Although 85 per cent of Africa’s exports to China come from oil-rich countries, China’s interest in Africa’s potential extends far beyond the oil barrel. By 2003, trade between China and Africa totalled $18.5 billion. By 2007, it had reached $73 billion. However, the perceived ‘commercial invasion’ has been analysed in terms of a zero-sum competition for resources, a win-win for the People’s Republic.

Observers are noticing a paradigm emerging among the nuances of Sino-African trade. The benefits of Chinese trade and development for Africa are undeniable; yet in what has become a modern-day ‘scramble for Africa’, the question has arisen: is China merely another neo-colonialist power, swindling Africa out of much-needed capital and land?

In what has become a modern-day ‘scramble for Africa’, the question has arisen: is China merely another neo-colonialist power, swindling Africa out of much-needed capital and land?

This particular snapshot of Chinese policy is indicative of Beijing’s implementation of controversial soft power strategies that are drawing the ire of the international community. Predictably, China’s vested interest in African resources, and subsequent no-strings-attached foreign direct investment, has attracted the attention of both the United Nations and other major investors in Africa, as speculation continues to grow regarding China’s motives.

No other major power has shown the muscle, interest or ability to initiate investment in Africa. Elizabeth C. Economy argues that China is merely following an established neo-mercantilist path set by Western nations that implement exploitative trade agreements, coupled with aid and infrastructure, to maintain economic leverage within the region. In 2004, China obtained a major stake in Angolan oil production through the provision of a $2 billion aid package that funded roads, the laying of a fibre-optic network, and the construction of schools, hospitals and offices.

The Politics of Trade and Investment

The China-Africa Summit in November 2006 is a useful case study for deconstructing the politics of the Sino-African relationship. A particularly noteworthy feature of the Summit was the pledge for five export-processing zones that would add value to Africa’s exports. The positive impacts of these plans for the host country are minimal, as Chinese companies will profit from tax breaks and flexible investment conditions within the zones, which will ultimately support Chinese private actors. The fact that many Chinese businesses are state-owned corporations means that they need not turn a profit, so long as China’s overall objectives are satisfied: namely, through liquidating competition and allowing for a Chinese monopoly. China’s state-owned enterprises are powerful agents within the region and fuel Chinese investment in Africa.

Many African states are marred by political and social instability, and China’s presence has posed an additional barrier to internal reform and transparency in business-friendly African governments. For example, China’s $US2 billion ($AU2.4 billion) soft loan to Angola enabled the Angolan Government to resist pressure from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to implement its requirement of “conditionality” to improve the transparency of its oil sector and to tackle endemic corruption.

The Pitfalls of Trade and Foreign Investment

The impact of globalisation’s homogenising qualities can be seen in the displacement of smaller, localised African businesses in sectors dominated by Chinese investment. Although African consumers benefit from cheaper goods, local African businesses are undermined by an influx of Chinese producers that are outsourcing manufacturing. Chinese labour policies are also attracting criticism from African civil society. Activists in Zambia have condemned Chinese labour practices in Africa, such as low wages and the importation of Chinese labourers, after an accident at a Chinese-operated copper mine in 2005 killed 50 Zambians.

China potentially holds the key to an economic revival of the African continent; however, Africa’s internal problems must be addressed to reap the benefits of Chinese investment fully.

One is tempted to view China, with respect to its exploits in Africa, as a ruthless, neo-communist power, covertly establishing itself as a threat to Western, hegemonic power blocs. However, one must also look through the lens of African nations themselves to comprehend the benefits of this new Silk Road.

The Promise of Trade and Foreign Investment

The political climate of many African governments has enabled an escalating exchange of goods between the two nations. As more African nations focus on the privatisation of their industries and the opening of their economies to foreign investment, China has capitalised upon this opportunity. In 2006, Premier Wen Jiabao declared: “China has been developing relations with Africa under principles of mutual benefit and non-interference in Africa’s internal affairs.”

Africa registered 5.8 per cent economic growth in 2007, its highest record since 1974, in part because of Chinese investment. No one can deny the beneficial effects of Chinese investment upon this economically challenged region. The majority of Chinese firms in Africa are involved in transportation and electrical and communications infrastructure. For example, Huawei, a major Chinese telecommunications company, won contracts worth over $400 million to provide cellular phone service in Kenya, Nigeria and Zimbabwe.

In November 2004, China established the China-Africa Business Council (CABC) in conjunction with the UN Development Program, to support China’s private sector investment in sub-Saharan Africa. This will inevitably lead to further sustainable development for the region. The added pressure of a United Nations body in the proceedings will undoubtedly influence China’s choice of trading partners, particularly when taking into consideration human rights records and transparency in government activity.

There is no doubt that China’s activities in Africa have provided crucial economic development to some dangerously underdeveloped countries and sectors. However, an analysis of China’s modus operandi in Africa cannot be isolated from its political implications.

The Cost of Putting Economics First

China’s interests in Africa extend beyond the economic sphere; strategic interests really lie at the heart of Beijing’s foreign policy. Whichever political lens is used, Sino-African relations have a contentious dimension: namely, the issues of human rights and corporate responsibility. As Sierra Leone’s ambassador to Beijing, Sahr Johnny, articulated: “we like Chinese investment … because there are no benchmarks or preconditions.”

Analyst Jonathan Holslag has argued that Beijing is ultimately driven by intransigent economic ambitions and that China’s African policy is designed to protect its economic interests, irrespective of the political consequences. China is one of Sudan’s leading arms suppliers and has thus indirectly supported regional factionalism and resistance to UN peacekeeping in the Darfur region.

Leni Wild argues that the quid pro quo relationships between China and various African nations have resulted in one or both nations turning a blind eye to each other’s human rights records and government transparency. China, through its role on the UN Security Council, maintained an obstructionist position on Darfur, until international condemnation necessitated an about-face. Analysts have argued that this stemmed from economic and diplomatic ties with Khartoum. Various experts independently confirm that Chinese small arms were used on various sides of the Darfur conflict, with the registered delivery of 600 firearms to Sudan from China in 2006.

Official diplomatic communications between the Chinese and African governments amplify the anti-Western rhetoric of many African governments. China has a strict non-interference policy and, consequently, as Henning Melber explains, China represents a welcome break from European and American investment, which is subject to “conditionality”, or policy adjustments, as stipulated by the IMF. Zimbabwe’s President Robert Mugabe has captured the sentiments of many African leaders in stating, “we look to the East where the sun rises, not the West where the sun sets”.

Humanitarian crises in unstable African states have kindled public awareness of China’s role in the region. Beijing has begun to respond to international criticism of its corporate engagement and practice of turning a blind eye to human rights abuses, by relaxing its ‘non-interference policy’; however, Beijing’s corporate governance is still controversial.

China potentially holds the key to an economic revival of the African continent; however, Africa’s internal problems must be addressed to reap the benefits of Chinese investment fully. Accordingly, Beijing must further appropriate its foreign policy to address the issues of democracy and human rights involved in African trade.

The ‘friend or foe’ hype regarding China is raging in international fora. China is attempting to balance lucrative commercial prospects in Africa with its requirement of global governance. China’s relatively isolationist foreign policy has attracted international criticism and Beijing is slowly attempting to rectify its reputation in international circles. Ultimately, African civil society is poised to see if China’s aggressive interest in its continent will differ from that of the colonial powers of eras past.

Genevieve Curtis is in her second year of a Bachelor of International and Global Studies, majoring in American Studies.

Oliver Lindholm explains why soft power won’t work (in time) in Iran.

On 20 March, United States President Barack Obama ended his Nowruz overture to Iran with the words: “Thank you, and Eid-eh Shoma Mobarak,” essentially a message of peace from the American people. Upon the invocation of this phrase, uttered in the local vernacular, one can imagine the almost immediate, collective intake of breath from audiences. Had the President just spoken Farsi? More to the point, had he just spoken Farsi in the way in which it was intended to be spoken?

‘Soft power’ is a concept that is fast gaining traction in the United States. After nearly a decade of largely unsuccessful conventional warfare, it is increasingly recognised that an effective strategy is one that captures the “hearts and minds” of rivals, not just their bunkers and weapons caches. By structuring the preferences of others to reflect one’s own interests, soft power avoids confrontation. Prevention in this sense is obviously better than a cure.

Thus, when Obama pronounced the words “Eid-eh Shoma Mobarak”, he was putting the delivery of the message on a level footing with its content. He was, through the use of soft power, exhibiting America’s “attractiveness”; and in exhibiting it in such a way, he was hoping that American values would be “co-opted” by Iranians.

But Obama’s overture, and those that follow, will fail for three reasons. First, American soft power must target either the Iranian regime or the Iranian population exclusively; an each-way bet limits the efficacy of American soft power with respect to each. Second, the U.S. does not fully control the intensity or direction of its own soft power. And finally, soft power is cumulative; it gains force over time. But time is in short supply.

The Iranian Nuclear Situation Explained

Without equivocation, the aim of the U.S. with respect to Iran is to have the country suspend its nuclear program. Having already reached “breakout capacity”, Iran has produced enough fissile material to construct a nuclear device within months. Clearly, this is unacceptable. It would be at the point where Iran does gain nuclear launch capability that one could determine that U.S. soft power had failed.

Previous diplomatic efforts to forestall Iran’s nuclear program have equally met with little success. On the one hand, the Iranian state has continued to defy the sanctions imposed on it by the international community. On the other hand, the few attempts made by the U.S. at negotiating a compromise have ended in stalemate. Meanwhile, each day in which no progress is made brings Iran closer to nuclear launch capability.

Responding to these failed policies, Obama has opted for what Joseph Nye, the theoretician behind soft power, calls “smart power”; that is, the formulation of an effective strategy using both soft power and economic sanctions. Obama wishes to use both the carrot and the stick simultaneously. Yet, whilst such a strategy has shown some promising signs, it has not yet led to any material outcomes.

The question that one must keep in mind is: if soft power will not work (in time), why bother with a smart power strategy? At best, it is mildly distracting; at worst, it is diverting. This article means to illustrate the shortcomings of a smart power strategy that leans too heavily on soft power, and, therefore, to show the futility of an approach that uses it to press Iran into discontinuing its nuclear program.

Targeting the Iranian Regime

Immediately following Obama’s Nowruz address, the ‘Supreme Leader’, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, indicated that the Iranian Government would play a hard negotiating game. U.S.-Iranian dialogue was to be conditional on the removal of “oppressive sanctions” and the withdrawal of “unconditional support for the Zionist regime”. Tehran has now “invited” the U.S. to the table, but refuses to include the nuclear question on the agenda.

After nearly a decade of largely unsuccessful conventional warfare, it is increasingly recognised that an effective strategy is one that captures the “hearts and minds” of rivals, not just their bunkers and weapons caches.

Such temerity is to be expected of a government that has endured strained relations with the U.S. for the last 30 years. It was, after all, a member of the select “axis of evil” group (in)famously condemned by Bush. This scarred history between the nations makes it difficult to reach an agreement on even the most peripheral of issues, but it sets itself especially against the success of U.S. soft power. Soft power will thus not have an appreciable impact on the Iranian regime for three reasons.

In the first place, U.S. soft power is not something that rests entirely within the purview of the U.S. executive. The cultural practices of U.S. society – as conveyed through the mediums of commerce, personal contact, and telecommunications – are run from the civil sphere, not the administrative sphere. Iran’s theocracy thus finds itself seemingly besieged by some of the more prurient social mores of the U.S., and unsurprisingly eschews the culture that created them.

Second, a nuclear weapon is also of great strategic importance to Iran. With the nuclearisation of Central Asia – that is, Pakistan, India, Russia and China – and the broad flexing of U.S. military might in the region, the regime has become fully aware of its vulnerabilities. Ironically, the constant threat of U.S. military intervention has actually highlighted the need for a deterrent.

Finally, there is a broad consensus within Iran that the nuclear program must continue. It has, in fact, become a touchstone for the entire government and its more moderate critics like Mousavi and Khatami. No one wishes to be seen as bowing to the West, either by slowing Tehran’s missile program or by suspending the production of reactor-grade uranium, so all give it their endorsement in one form or another.

These are the religious/ideological, strategic, and political considerations that weigh against the success of U.S. soft power, but perhaps the greater problem is that U.S. soft power limits itself. Insofar as U.S. culture inspires opposition to the regime – through the use of such media as Twitter and YouTube by protestors in June – the regime will make itself less amenable to negotiations on the nuclear issue. The U.S. may have to make the difficult decision to prop up the regime indirectly, so as to more effectively negotiate with it.

Targeting the Iranian People

If the efficacy of U.S. soft power exerted on the Iranian regime seems limited, then the success of U.S. soft power on the Iranian people is just as likely to fail. By exerting soft power on the Iranian people, the U.S. hopes to pressure the Iranian regime to end its nuclear program through a popular movement, or failing this, to have it possibly overthrown and replaced by a more moderate government.

In terms of the effectiveness of soft power, these outcomes actually seem more realistic in Iran. Nye wryly notes that “Iran is the one exception [in the Middle East] because the government hates the United States but the people don’t”. Indeed, a 2008 WorldPublicOpinion.org poll found that, even after the previous Bush administration had alienated over four-fifths of the Iranian population, a majority of Iranians continued to hold the American people in high esteem.

The U.S. may have to make the difficult decision to prop up the regime indirectly, so as to more effectively negotiate with it.

But it would be unreasonable to suppose that greater soft power in this area would allow a greater scope for success on the nuclear issue. In the first place, the moderate sections of the populace simply do not have the strength to overthrow the regime, or even, it seems, to influence it on the nuclear issue. The fallout from the 12 June presidential election, and the subsequent failure of the protest movement to effect any real change, bears out the truth of this.

Second, even if Ahmadinejad were to be replaced by a more moderate leader, there is no assurance that the nuclear programme would be abandoned. Iran’s nuclear programme was relaunched under the 1980s premiership of Mir-Hossein Mousavi, and accelerated under Ahmadinejad’s reformist predecessor, Mohammad Khatami. The most for which the U.S. can hope is a more amenable setting for negotiations.

However, the U.S. runs an even greater risk. By negotiating with a regime that a sizeable portion of the moderate Iranian populace now considers illegitimate, the U.S. seriously compromises its soft power with that moderate group. Consequently, in order to maximise the impact of its soft power, it must target either Iran’s regime or its people, wholly and exclusively.

The Danger in Israel

It is important to remember that the Iranian nuclear question is an issue that involves the diverse interests of multiple parties, some of which are so immediate that they are not singularly served by soft power. Having been marked for elimination by Tehran, Israel is perhaps most pertinent in this respect.

Soft power has a cumulative effect and is best exercised over time. For Israel, however, there is no time. Israel has shown a readiness in the past to safeguard its interests, even without U.S. approval. The attacks on the Iraqi Osirak nuclear reactor in 1981 and the Syrian Al Kibar plutonium reactor in 2007 were precipitated by a lack of progress. There is no way to ensure that, as Iran comes closer to launch capability, Israel would not attempt a similar attack.

In terms of U.S. soft power, this would have disastrous effects. First, it would destroy the legitimacy of the U.S. in the eyes of Iran’s political moderates, and give Iran’s regime the means by which to strengthen its own mandate. Second, it may not even work. The most likely point of attack, the Natanz plant, may not even be where Iran’s matérial is being held.

Thus, as an added burden, the U.S. needs to ensure that Israel would not act independently of the U.S. In addition to its already severe limitations, U.S. soft power would need to operate under impossibly slim time constraints. It would need to go further with less. In these circumstances, why not dispense with soft power?

Oliver Lindholm is in his fourth year of a Bachelor of International Studies, majoring in Government and International Relations.

Glenn Kembrey explores the different faces of Japanese power.

Edith Cresson, a French Prime Minister in the early 1990s, once described the Japanese as “yellow ants trying to take over the world”. From her perspective, Japanese people were “little yellow men” who “stay up all night thinking about ways to screw the Americans and Europeans”. Racism aside, the comment reveals the different faces of power involved in international politics since the end of the Cold War. How is it that Japan, a nation that has constitutionally renounced the use of force as a sovereign right, was feared for its potential to dominate the world stage?

Japan’s Challenge to Classical Realism

Classical realist theorists such as Hans Morgenthau and John Mearsheimer would have informed Madame Cresson that the only way of “taking over the world” is through the development of hard power or military muscle. In his thesis on international relations, Morgenthau states: “in international politics, armed strength is the most important material factor making for the political power of the nation.”

Moreover, realists maintain that power is fungible. Consequently, it should have been only a matter of time before Japanese leaders woke up to the reality of thousands of years of Western theory on international affairs – stretching back to Thucydides’ Melian Dialogue – and promptly converted their country’s economic and technological superiority into military might.

Why did Japan fail to live up to realist expectations of how a global power should act, and what does this reveal about the “new face of power” in international politics? There are two important factors that help to explain why Japan has bucked the realist trend of turning money into muscle. First, Article 9 in the Constitution, imposed on Japan during the U.S. occupation, creates entrenched legal barriers to the re-militarisation of Japan.

Second, the Japanese public has a widespread normative commitment to a pacifist foreign policy, which is partially attributable to the collective memory of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese experience therefore demonstrates that a state’s foreign policy on an international level can be constrained by domestic factors such as law and public opinion.

Economic Expansion

But the origins of Madame Cresson’s comments remain to be explained. Specifically, she was articulating France’s concern about the dominance of the Japanese car manufacturing industry during the Japanese ‘bubble’, which threatened European manufacturing firms. More broadly, the comments indicate a general fear of Japanese economic influence. Throughout the 1980s and early 1990s, Japanese companies used their commanding position in global financial markets to drive a financial stake into the cultural icons of the West; for example, Sony purchased CBS Records, and Columbia Pictures shortly thereafter.

Japanese soft power operates by virtue of Japan’s status as the first non-Western state to achieve (and surpass) Western levels of industrialisation and prosperity.

However, Japanese expansion is more usefully conceived as an opportunity rather than a threat. In a 2009 report to the Australian Government agency Austrade, Peter Drysdale noted: “The Japanese market is no longer confined to Japan itself. It is a huge international market generated by the activities of Japanese business and investors, especially via production networks in Asia.” As Drysdale argues, Australian firms have the opportunity to integrate with Japanese supply chains and business networks in Asia.

Soft Power

Japan has also sought to compliment its economic expansion with a healthy dose of soft power. Joseph Nye, a professor at Harvard University, defines soft power as “attractive power” wielded with the intention of “getting others to want the outcomes you want”. There are two essential ingredients to soft power: an ability to attract others and the exploitation of this attraction to support broader objectives.

Clearly, the Japanese charm offensive and promotion of “Cool Japan” satisfies the first criterion of Nye’s definition of “soft power”. Throughout Asia, as well as in the United States, Europe and Australia, Japanese popular culture industries – such as manga, anime, J-dramas and J-pop – are flourishing, offering the only serious global challenge to the dominance of American popular culture. In April 2009, as part of a 15 trillion yen stimulus package, the Japanese government announced plans to increase its exports of “soft power” industries from two per cent of total exports to 18 per cent over the next decade, creating half a million jobs along the way. The spread of Japanese soft power abroad is a product of both state and private sector initiatives.

However, the notion of foreigners eating sumo-size servings of sushi while singing J-pop in karaoke bars around the world does not in itself achieve the political ends desired as a result of employing soft power, which is at the heart of Nye’s goal-oriented concept. After all, as Nye states, “soft power rests on the ability to shape the preferences of others”. Whilst manga may help kick-start the Japanese economy, is it useful in achieving political goals in the international arena?

To some extent, Japanese soft power operates by virtue of Japan’s status as the first non-Western state to achieve (and surpass) Western levels of industrialisation and prosperity. Ezra Vogel, the author of Japan as Number One, considers Japan to be a model of industrial development for the “four little dragons” of East Asia: Taiwan, Singapore, Hong Kong and South Korea. In all of these places, Japanese popular culture and language study continue to boom.

Despite the lack of a standing army since World War II, Japan has had a strong international presence on questions of trade, finance, the environment and culture.

Throughout the 1990s, Japan was also the world’s largest provider of Official Development Assistance (ODA), most of which targeted East and Southeast Asia. Developing countries such as Vietnam and Cambodia, to which Japan remains the top bilateral donor, have invited Japanese policy experts from the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) to share Japanese secrets of how to industrialise without compromising cultural and ecological integrity: both cherished Japanese values. All of this has provided both political stability and further investment opportunities for Japan in Asia.

Japan has historically offered an alternative paradigm to that of the West for development assistance. Bill Pritchard, Chief Investigator of the Building Institutional Capacity in Asia Project, has observed that Japanese advocacy of ‘untied’ infrastructure-based funding is in contrast to Western ODA, which uses loans that are ‘tied’ to social and educational goals. Untied loans allow developing countries to select their own national priorities, as Japan did during its own industrialisation.

However, generous ODA funding and popular culture is of little use to Japan in defending its national security in the sometimes-volatile East Asian region. Japan has unresolved territorial disputes with both China and Russia. The series of missiles shot by North Korea over the Tohoku region of Japan in April 2009 led some to call for the development of conventional capabilities that would enable Japan to pre-emptively strike North Korean launchers. It is also possible that the weakness of Japanese hard power may undermine the effectiveness of its soft power.

The Future of Japanese Power

On 30 August 2009, Yukio Hatoyama’s centre-left DPJ trounced the incumbent Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). The victory signals an end to 54 years of mostly uninterrupted LDP power. During the election, the DPJ mainly campaigned on domestic issues. Consequently, the significance of the DPJ’s election for Japanese foreign policy remains unclear.

However, the DPJ has signalled that it intends to forge a more equitable relationship with the United States; for example, by refusing to provide logistical support to American global military ‘adventures’ that lack UN backing. Ichiro Ozawa, the DPJ’s Secretary General and former leader, has pushed for Japan to become a “normal country” by revision of Article 9 of its Constitution, which prohibits an act of war by the state. Ozawa and others have argued that this would end “the politics of indecision”.

Since being elected, Hatoyama has promised that Japan, responsible for seven per cent of global greenhouse gas emissions, will aim for a 25 per cent cut in greenhouse gas emissions, compared with 1990 levels, by 2020. This announcement sets the stage for Japan, the producer of the world’s leading environmental technologies such as advanced solar panels and hybrid cars, to play a leading role in the international climate change negotiations to be held in Copenhagen in December 2010.

Hatoyama’s foreign policy will focus on Japan’s role in East Asia. The DPJ has called for the creation of a regional cooperative institution in the Asia-Pacific, predicated on the denuclearisation of East Asia. The creation of a regional currency similar to the Euro has also been considered as another possible long-term goal of the DPJ, which would further bind China into regional institutions.

With the economic rise of China and India, and the relative decline in U.S. influence in the wake of the global economic crisis, Asia is looking increasingly multi-polar. Professor Yoshihide Soeya of Keio University has argued that, due to its small population and lack of natural resources, Japan should be content with the status of “middle power”. From this viewpoint, rather than becoming preoccupied with the potential threat of Chinese military modernisation, Japan should work with the U.S. as well as Australia – another “middle power” – to develop plans for coping with the economic and environmental consequences of Chinese and Indian development. A similar path was proposed by Malcolm Cook and Andrew Shearer in the 2009 report Going Global: A New Australia-Japan Agenda for Multilateral Cooperation for the Lowy Institute.

Today, Madame Cresson may be more fearful of Chinese business “ants”, rather than the Japanese variant. But her original comments on Japan were significant. Despite the lack of a standing army since World War II, Japan has had a strong international presence on questions of trade, finance, the environment and culture. As the Obama Administration moves in the direction of multilateralism, and the election of the DPJ provides an opportunity for political renewal, space exists for Japan to clarify its role in the world as a “middle power”. The way in which Japan chooses to do so will most likely involve a combination of economic and foreign policy reforms: clearly illustrating the multi-faceted nature of power in international politics.

Glenn Kembrey is in his third year of a combined degree in Law and Arts, majoring in Government and International Relations and Japanese.

On 16 April 2009, four U.S. Justice Department memos written in 2002 were released to the public. The memos detail the legal reasoning Bush Administration lawyers relied upon to justify the use of interrogation techniques against detainees. The techniques range from stress positions (such as standing for four hours) and twenty-eight hour interrogations to waterboarding and deception relating to the safety of family members. The memos contribute to a growing body of evidence suggesting that senior members of the Bush Administration authorised or acquiesced to torture, a crime under international law.

Ben Saul, Director of the Sydney Centre for International Law, points out that whether or not the people responsible for authorising these acts will be subject to investigation is largely a decision for the Obama Administration. If the U.S. were a signatory to the Rome Statute, the treaty establishing the International Criminal Court (ICC), the ICC would have jurisdiction over Bush Administration officials. But it is not. The UN Security Council has the power to refer a matter to the ICC, as has been done in the case of Omar Al-Bashir of Sudan; however, this is highly unlikely since the U.S. is a permanent, veto-wielding member of the Council.

If an alleged perpetrator were to leave U.S. soil, another state could legally prosecute that person. However, many states would be reluctant take such action due to its detrimental effect on cordial relations with the world’s sole remaining superpower.

So what has U.S. President Barack Obama done? After the release of the four memos, Obama remarked that, while the acts authorised in the memos represented “a dark and painful chapter in [American] history”, there would be no investigation into the agents and soldiers who carried out the approved measures. What Obama did not say was whether there would be investigations into senior officials of the Bush Administration who authorised these acts, including legal counsel such as Douglas Feith, John Yoo and Jay Bybee, as well as former Vice-President Dick Cheney and former Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld.

Earlier in 2009, when Obama was asked by ABC television whether he would appoint an investigator to consider the potential prosecution of certain Bush officials for authorising torture, his response was measured:

“We’re still evaluating how we’re going to approach the whole issue of interrogations, detentions and so forth. And obviously we’re going to look at past practices and I don’t believe that anybody is above the law. On the other hand, I also have a belief that we need to look forward as opposed to looking backwards … I don’t want [CIA agents] to suddenly feel like they’ve got to spend all their time looking over their shoulders and lawyering up.”

Obama’s response dodges the real issue. The question addressed the prosecution of senior Bush officials, yet Obama focused on the effect any trial would have on U.S. security forces – that is, the everyday CIA Agent protecting America. This is, however, irrelevant. Indeed, Obama has already ensured that those who physically performed the acts, relying honestly upon legal advice relayed by their superiors, would most definitely not be subject to investigation.

The rationale for Obama’s comment is that which he reiterated on 16 April 2009: “there [i]s nothing to gain by laying blame for the past.” But in being so dismissive, Obama is ignoring what could be gained from such an investigation; namely, an affirmation of the obligatory character of one of the most important aspects of international humanitarian law: the accountability of state leaders for criminal activities committed while in office. As Stacey Sullivan, an advisor to Human Rights Watch, states, “prosecuting those responsible for torture is really about ensuring that such crimes don’t happen in the future”.

Implicit in Obama’s comment is the way in which he views the role of international law in relation to the U.S. Obama is concerned not so much with whether or not Bush Administration officials are guilty of criminal acts – in particular, torture – but whether or not it is appropriate to prosecute them. This is essentially a political question, rather than a legal one. Hence, while international law exists and may apply to the facts, the decision as to whether it is enlivened is up to Obama.

Obama’s position reveals the critical hypocrisy of a U.S. that challenges the very foundation of international law; namely, whether it should be treated as real law or as merely subject to political discretion. On the one hand, a fundamental characteristic of the law is that it is not discretionary: it cannot be selectively applied. The U.S. has consistently supported the obligatory nature of international law. Most recently, this was demonstrated by American support of the ICC’s indictment of Omar Al-Bashir. On the other hand, a refusal to prosecute Bush (along with a failure to ratify the Rome Statute) evidences the view that international law should be obligatory, but only insofar as it does not obligate the United States.

“A fundamental characteristic of the law is that it is not discretionary: it cannot be selectively applied.”

This hypocrisy comes at a time when the role of international law is not secure. While international economic law has had little trouble gaining acceptance among states, the campaign for greater recognition of human rights law has been aptly described by the prominent international lawyer, Geoffrey Robertson QC, as a ‘struggle’.

International law began with the humble foundation of the sovereignty of states, which restricted its scope to relations between states. From this basis came the rule that a state was unable to interfere with another state exercising its sovereignty within its own borders. It is this principle, which states have been extremely reluctant to relinquish, that has hindered the enforcement of human rights. While the devastation of World War Two set the framework for the Atlantic Charter, and soon after, for foundational documents such as the UN Declaration of Human Rights (1948), it was not until nearly sixty years later that a permanent international criminal court, the ICC, was established.

Even today, the ICC is so persistently criticised that it is remarkable it has survived at all. Three of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council – the U.S., China and Russia – have not ratified the Rome Statute that affords the ICC jurisdiction over them. India, too, has refused to ratify the Rome Statute.

Why have these states refused to ratify? Because they have the most to lose from the constraining jurisdiction of an international court. As neo-conservative analyst Robert Kagan argues, a state’s support for international law is inversely proportional to its strength in the global political order. All four of these countries are economically powerful: the U.S. has the world’s largest GDP and China, Russia and India represent three of the four ‘BRIC’ countries (BRIC denoting the fast-growing developing countries of Brazil, Russia, India and China, which Goldman Sachs reports are likely to eclipse the combined wealth of the original G-8 countries by 2050). Moreover, these four countries possess nuclear weapons. For these reasons they are strongly positioned within the global system.

“To set a precedent mandating that he who has the gold can exempt himself from international responsibility is extremely dangerous.”

Further, all four countries are closely related to actual or potential military conflicts (U.S.-Iraq, China-Taiwan, Russia-Georgia and India-Kashmir). Each has a vested interest in minimising international hindrance of their ability to pursue their interests in those regions. However, it is precisely in these war-torn regions that regulation through the vehicle of international law is most vital.

What would an indictment of Bush officials achieve? The U.S. is the hegemonic power of the current world order. If its leaders were held accountable for breaches of international law, it would send a powerful message: all leaders who commit international crimes will be held accountable for their actions, regardless of the clout of their country in the international system. That is, it would solidify the obligatory nature of international law.

Apart from the general desire to achieve justice and prevent human rights violations, why is this important? Scholars such as Paul Kennedy and Robert Gilpin have described world politics as being marked by the succession of powerful states rising to organise the international system. As with all previous empires, U.S. hegemony will come to an end. Historian Niall Ferguson has written that the twentieth century witnessed the decline of the West and a reorientation of the world towards the East. As G. John Ikenberry, a Princeton University professor, argues, “the United States’ most powerful strategic weapon is the ability to decide what sort of international order will be in place to receive [power in the international order]”.

Ikenberry’s argument is directly applicable to international criminal law. The more the U.S. and international law “binds together capitalist democratic states in deeply rooted institutions; the more open, consensual and rule-based it is; and the more widely spread its benefits, the more likely it will be that rising powers can and will secure their interests through integration and accommodation rather than through war”. Susceptibility of world leaders to international criminal trials amplifies the obligatory character of international law. The more obligatory the character of these rules are, the more likely they will survive the transition in power distribution from the U.S. that is set to occur in the next few decades.

Obama’s ‘forward-looking’ rhetoric, however, indicates it is unlikely those responsible will be brought to justice. To set a precedent mandating that he who has the gold can exempt himself from international responsibility is extremely dangerous. In a system of law based on state consent, the U.S. is in effect consenting to identical reasoning being adopted by the next superpower.

Matthew Kalyk is in his second year of a Bachelor of Laws.

In March this year, the Finance Ministers and Central Bank Governors of the G20 nations agreed that steps to fight the financial crisis needed to include ‘bank recapitalisation’ and ‘fiscal expansion’. In other words, they advocated bailouts of failing banks and significantly increased government spending. In early April, the G20 Leaders’ Meeting confirmed these policies. The G20 includes wealthy liberal democracies, developing nations, and authoritarian states, including governments of every political stripe. An agreement between such a diverse group of leaders on a framework for economic recovery demonstrates the depth of global consensus on how to emerge from the current crisis.

This consensus between nations is not matched on a domestic level. In the United States, only one Republican senator out of 41 voted for the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009, President Barack Obama’s February stimulus bill. In the same month, the Coalition opposition in Australia voted against the Household Stimulus Package. In contrast, the conservative Prime Minister of New Zealand stated that his government’s approach differed from Australia’s only insofar as New Zealand had less money to spend on surviving the recession. There has been far more disagreement within nations than between them.
We might expect such conflict from opposing political parties. However, the present conflict appears to be based on neither ideology nor conviction. In the first place, both conservatives and liberals who hold government have agreed on a broad range of solutions, whereas their opponents have not.

Secondly, political oppositions have been a mess of contradictions on how to fight the recession. There are many sincere people with well-articulated reasons to oppose bank bailouts or financial stimulus. However, many of those who have jumped on the anti-government bandwagon during the financial crisis have done so opportunistically. In the recent Senate elections in the United States, non-incumbent members of all parties opposed bailouts of failing banks. Democrat Bruce Lunsford ran against the Republican Mitch McConnell, the senate minority leader. Lunsford sought funding from the Democratic Party for an advertisement that criticised McConnell’s support of the banking bailout. Charles Ellis (“Chuck”) Schumer, head of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, approved the funding. Hours earlier, Schumer and McConnell had worked together on the final draft of the bailout bill.

In Australia, the Coalition’s policy has been similarly confused.  The Malcolm Turnbull-led opposition has stated that running the budget into deficit and amassing debt is “mortgaging our future”; but at the same time, it argues for tax cuts and public spending on infrastructure, a combination that would also blow out budget deficits. In New South Wales, the Coalition argues that budget deficits are necessary.

“Many of those who have jumped on the anti-government bandwagon during the financial crisis have done so opportunistically.”

Why do oppositions act in this way? The first answer is that even though governments may be punished for poor economic performance, a government that is given credit for saving the country from a serious crisis could make an opposition irrelevant for years. Franklin Roosevelt came to power in 1932 promising to bring the United States out of the Depression. He succeeded in returning the nation to growth, and the Republican Party was out of the White House until 1952. The economic recovery under Ronald Reagan in the early 1980s led to 12 years of Republican presidencies. Even now, Kevin Rudd is riding a wave of popularity, as the public perceives him to be capably managing the economy through the crisis. An opposition that meekly agrees with an incumbent government risks losing its relevance in public debate. An opposition that criticises the government at every turn has some hope of planting seeds of doubt in the public mind.

The second answer is that if the economic conditions remain adverse, the incumbent government will probably fall regardless of what the opposition does. The first Bush presidency fell during recession, even though Bill Clinton was an economic neophyte. John McCain’s status as a member of the incumbent party convinced voters that he could not be trusted on matters relating to the economy, even though Barack Obama had previously had almost no involvement in economic issues. Governments may be punished even after a recession is over. Paul Keating’s government fell three years into economic recovery, and John Major left office nearly five years after the currency collapse that most believe spelled the end for his government. Voters do not even seem to mind what economic policy an opposition advocates. In the depths of the stagflation crisis in 1980, Ronald Reagan won office, even though his own running mate called his economic strategy “voodoo economics”. Having an economically discredited opponent was enough to ensure victory.

Sniping from the sidelines may be a sound political strategy. However, it detracts from the collaborative development of effective solutions to the crisis. Political dissonance creates public division and doubt at a time when economic confidence and harmony is most crucial. Employing the usual political tactics may be easily forgiven if this is a transitory crisis. However, if the world does slide into a long-lasting recession, political oppositions may soon regret their knee-jerk reactions.

Tim Mooney is in his fourth year of a combined degree in Law and Arts, majoring in History.

In March this year, several gunmen opened fire on a bus carrying the visiting Sri Lankan cricketers in Lahore, Pakistan. This act of terrorism killed seven Pakistani security guards and a driver, and wounded eight cricket players, an assistant coach, and a local umpire.

Until this attack, it could have been said that cricket, or any other sport for that matter, was immune from the effects of global terrorism. However, this would deny the long history of terrorist attacks targeting sportsmen and women, including the infamous Munich massacre of 1972. It is appalling to see that this realm of recreation and enjoyment, which allows states to maintain elements of positive relations despite conflicting in other respects, has once again come under the dark cloud of terrorism.

The Munich massacre marked the first time that terrorism hit an international sporting event. At the 1972 Olympic Games in Germany, eight ‘Black September’ extremists broke into the Israeli athletes’ room, killing wrestling coach Moshe Weinberg and weightlifter Yossef Romano before shooting nine more. Though horrifying, the Games carried on. For those who are not too naïve to take security for granted, the recent attack was not a surprise, as shocking as it may have been.

These are not the only terrorist atrocities in sporting history. At the Colombo Marathon last year, a suicide bomber killed 14 people, including the Olympic athlete K. A. Karunaratne seconds before the start of the race. In 1996, a 40-pound pipe-bomb was detonated at Centennial Park during the Atlanta Olympic Games, killing two and injuring 111 others. During the Cricket World Cup in Colombo in the same year, a suicide bomber killed 91 people and injured over 1,400, resulting in Australia and the West Indies refusing to play in Sri Lanka. Pakistan was one of the two teams that went on to play in Sri Lanka when the rest pulled out. Its participation is cited as the reason why Sri Lanka accepted the invitation to tour Pakistan this year. We ought to applaud Sri Lanka’s diplomatic effort to go on tour despite Pakistan having been tagged a no-go zone.

“Cricket brings together nations in the midst of political and social upheaval … there is obvious potential for extremists to wreak havoc in the realm of sport.”

Before these attacks, cricket was perceived to be immune from terrorism because of the esteem in which the game is held on the Indian sub-continent. However, this was a wildly optimistic judgment when one recognises that the sport brings together nations in the midst of political and social upheaval. Against this background, there is obvious potential for extremists to wreak havoc in the realm of sport. Cricket has been the sole link between Pakistan and its rival across the border, India. It has been their one point of identification, even when their armies were amassed at the borders. This attack may have taken that away.

The March attack is the latest entry in an already lengthy log of extremist ferocity. Moreover, the security situation is worsening in Pakistan. In December 2007, then Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto was murdered following an unsuccessful assassination attempt two months earlier. The destruction of Mumbai’s Marriott Hotel and the assassination attempt on Prime Minister Yousaf Gilani, to say nothing of the kidnappings and murders of foreign bureaucrats, round out the list of terrorist attacks. Geopolitically, had it been the Indian cricket team on the bus that day with Tendulkar and Dhoni, it would be terrifying to even imagine the Indians’ retaliation and the chain reaction that may have been triggered.

The March attack has not only put cricket in jeopardy, but it has also marred the ties between countries. For many, cricket is not just a sport, but a passion and a religion as well. England resumed its Test matches in India in the wake of the Mumbai carnage, proving itself keen for the restoration of peace. Its first tour to Pakistan, following a five-year absence, is scheduled for 2010. It is intended to reforge the ties that were damaged during Pakistan’s visit to England in 2006; however, this is now in serious doubt.

If governments and sporting councils circumscribe tours to countries that are not tagged as terror threats, then the terrorists gain a victory. Terrorism is a global issue that needs a global solution, with national governments supporting each other. It will be interesting to see what becomes of Pakistan, which is due to be one of the four co-hosts of the 2011 Cricket World Cup with Bangladesh, India and Sri Lanka, and where one of the semi-finals will be played.

Varsha Maharaj is in his first year of a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in Political Economy and Government and International Relations.

In reading Plato’s famous ‘Allegory of the Cave’, we encounter a most interesting scenario. The people are born into a world of shadows, whereby their entire perception, understanding and knowledge of reality and of existence are based on shadows on the cave wall. When they are then forced to confront the physical objects that cast the shadows, they refuse to accept these foreign objects as the truer versions of the world. In a similar manner, the languages that we use to represent the world are but the shadows of its full complexity and dimension. Accordingly, an interesting question arises: whether or not the word ‘crisis’, which is used so obsessively and indiscriminately in everyday conversation and in the media, adequately captures the concepts it seeks to describe, such as the current state of the world economy and the environment. I am concerned with the distinction between the categorisation of ‘crisis’ and an actual appreciation of what ‘crisis’ embodies and entails.

An unfortunate characteristic of our use of language is that we often become detached from the actual meanings of the words we use. Consider the politician’s beloved expression ‘collateral damage’. How often do politicians use it as a meaningless label and how often do they truly appreciate its physical and emotional connotations?

Akin to the nature of a cliché, we are losing the experiential urgency that the word ‘crisis’ embodies. A sense of urgency that cannot be mathematically, or indeed rationally, quantified is the most important criterion for differentiating between a crisis and a serious problem. Examine the two phrases: ‘global economic crisis’ and ‘global warming’. Semantically, we use them in order to signify the presence of crises. Yet the use of the word ‘crisis’ in the former reflects the sentiment that the economic situation we currently face is far more urgent than the environmental one. Globally, an array of economic stimulus packages has been passed in just a few months, whereas policies to tackle ‘global warming’ – such as the Australian emissions trading scheme, first conceived 30 years ago – have stagnated.

“A sense of urgency that cannot be mathematically, or indeed rationally, quantified is the most important criterion for differentiating between a crisis and a serious problem.”

If urgency is essential in determining a crisis, we must examine how we grasp, and ought to grasp, the feeling of urgency. Our prioritisation of the global economic situation is certainly justified if urgency is based on the immediacy of consequence alone. The effects of unemployment are emotional and tangible. It is easy to visually capture and report on the misfortunes of the unemployed. Indeed, for individuals, the fear of losing a job is psychologically easier to conceptualise than the apocalypse. Yet the eventual consequences of climate change are surely no less significant than those of the current economic situation.

Our mistaken prioritisation of more immediate events is not solely based on psychological grounds. Ideologically, in the deepest recesses of the human mind, lies a belief in the unfeasibility of the complete destruction of humankind. This mentality assures us that we can survive climate catastrophes. Faced with the infinite physical vastness of our universe, a quantity incomprehensible to the human mind, our consciousness elects us to be the destined ones. However, as the emergency summit last month in Copenhagen suggested, societies will not be able to withstand an “abrupt or irreversible” shift in climate, which is already in motion. Similarly, when we consume all of our finite resources, we will be no different to Easter Island. This idea is not meant to promote nihilism, but to draw attention to the fact that human existence is not a given: we are not dissimilar to a man on a wire. Only after completely accepting this can we grasp the urgency associated with crisis. Thus, we cannot restrain ourselves from regressing to comforting platitudes such as “all will be fine in the end”, since if no action or no immediate responsibility is taken now, crisis will become catastrophe.

In light of this, a moment of crisis can be redefined as a moment of critical choice and change. If the economic recession is truly a crisis and if climate change is truly a crisis, we must be prepared to abolish our existing fossil fuel-based economies and make the transition to ones founded on renewable energy. Nicholas Stern, fronting this growing ideological movement, urges governments to invest a fifth of their economic recovery plans in the construction of a renewable energy industry. South Korea, amongst others, has already contributed two-thirds of its recovery package to this end. These are not options of convenience; rather, they are the inevitable paths that we must take as we stand in the moment of true crisis and at the brink of a necessary revolution in thinking.

Melissa Yu is in her second year of a combined degree in Commerce and Arts, majoring in Economics, Econometrics, and Philosophy.

When one hears the word ‘crisis’, alarm bells start to ring. To be in crisis mode means to border on anarchy. There is no rationality and no governance. There is no clear resolution to a crisis. At least this is what the mass media portrays. We are often the victims of such sensationalism. The truth is sometimes distorted and we are misled into believing that an ‘issue’ of global magnitude is an undeniable ‘crisis’. However, whilst adopting a cynical approach to this label of ‘crisis’, it seems almost foolish to not tag a global ‘issue’ as a ‘crisis’, as anything else would seem a rather dangerous euphemism.

The word ‘crisis’ rings alarm bells chiming with words such as fear, suffering and desperation. Ironically, it is these words that are able to generate the full capacity of the human character. In the recent Victorian Bushfire Crisis, Australia was able to unify as one grieving nation. In the ‘dark’ light (excuse the oxymoron) of the Global Financial Crisis, Australians donated generously to help alleviate the suffering that singed the hopes of the Victorian people. On a global scale, the Boxing Day Tsunami seems to be the apotheosis of human suffering from natural disasters. Likewise, the world was able to unify in aiding financially not just out of sympathy and charity, but out of the power of empathy as common human beings. This unification can also be seen in the efforts of individuals and NGOs in tackling the Global Poverty Crisis, although there is a need for more state responsibility and commitment. Regardless of the type of ‘crisis’, natural or human-induced, it is suffering that is the common reductionist element of being a global human citizen. It is a bizarre irony that the tag of ‘crisis’, through its sensationalism, can be used as a launch pad to help stir the fear, suffering and desperation that generates the human power for empathy and unity.

However, whilst achieving unity through the label, the subsets of the term may impinge on the human ability to think rationally and pragmatically. Although the term demands public attention, it also promotes chaos. Desperate times call for desperate measures. A natural human response to a ‘crisis’ may not always be unity, indeed it is often self-preservation. This can be seen in the Nuclear Proliferation Crisis. With a lot of loopholes in the 1968 Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, particularly articles 4, 6 and 10, there is a sense of ‘crisis’ emerging. The loose nature of the Treaty undermines the confidence states have in it as a source of international law. This creates a sense of paranoia and the common dangerous misconception that nuclear weapons would equate to security. Compounding this fear is the sense of exclusivity practiced by the members of the self-proclaimed “nuclear club”. Following Bush’s declaration of the “Axis of Evil” post 9/11, North Korea’s sovereignty was questioned by the international community. It is unsurprising that North Korea would respond to such a provoking tag by testing missiles, causing great geopolitical tension. This was a desperate showcase of nationalism, a reaction to the power and domination of Western states. It is evident that the label of ‘crisis’ can fuel further irrational and short-sighted choices by states as the term generates hostility and a self-serving dogma.

This intrinsic self-serving concept can also be seen in the Climate Change Crisis. Despite the avalanche of scientific and empirical evidence of the looming ramifications of climate change, states are reluctant to offer higher levels of carbon emission reductions. The need to preserve the environment for a sustainable future must be balanced against their self-interest for economic growth. Moreover, it seems unfair for one country to lower their emissions at a higher level than a country of similar economic power. Hence, there is always a prisoner’s dilemma in the midst of a ‘crisis’ as actors on the international stage choose between altruism and self-interest.

It seems that the term ‘crisis’ creates global attention and is a dualistic force for good or evil. It can promote co-operative sovereignty or anarchy, altruism or self-interest, empathy or apathy. It seems that only a natural disaster of epic global proportions will formulate a powerful enough ‘crisis’ so that the ‘sovereignty of humanity’ is able to unify and realise that our common ability to suffer is the gateway to resolve any form of crisis. It is of utmost importance that in the midst of a crisis, we hold onto our human capacity to think rationally and pragmatically, not just for our own state, but for the collective survival of all people.  It is the willingness to survive in a crisis that brings out the best, or worst, in the human character.

Peter Son is in his third year of a combined degree in Law and International Studies, majoring in Government and International Relations.

In November 2006, President Bush and his Republican Party suffered a heavy defeat in the mid-term elections. In victory, Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi said that “this election is about Iraq” and that the American people had “rejected the course of action the President is on”. The voters seemed to agree. As Democrats were swept to power, 75 per cent of Americans believed that the government would swiftly withdraw troops.

By 2007, in the wake of this defeat, the last thing anyone expected was a greater commitment to the war. But this was exactly what the President delivered, announcing, in a televised speech on January 10, a ‘surge’ in troops to stabilise Iraq. The new policy also involved giving greater freedom for Iraqis to fight for themselves, and making peace with some insurgent groups. A Fox News poll showed that 59 per cent of Americans were against the surge.

By mid-2008, it was becoming obvious that the dire predictions for the surge were misplaced. Iraqi civilian deaths were down significantly, bombings were less frequent, and fewer areas were outside of the control of American, British, or Iraqi forces. Sectarian groups that had previously fought the occupation were now armed with American weapons, waging war against al-Qaida in Iraq.

The success of the surge was reflected in a shift in public opinion. The most visible beneficiary of this change was John McCain, who used his ‘No Surrender’ bus tour of New Hampshire to focus on his early support for the surge, and his confidence in an eventual victory in Iraq. His 37 per cent to 32 per cent victory over the previously favoured Mitt Romney seemed to vindicate his approach. By February 2008, a CNN poll showed that 52 per cent of Americans believed that U.S. forces were making progress in Iraq.

Opponents of the surge quietly dropped their previous views. John McCain pushed Barack Obama to recant his earlier opposition to the surge. The answer for Obama was essentially to ignore the surge in Iraq, and co-opt the idea to strengthen his stance on Afghanistan. Obama argued that troops should be moved from Iraq, for a new ‘surge’ in Afghanistan. With a resurgent Taliban destabilising neighbouring Pakistan, and increased heroin production, Obama argued that Afghanistan should be the ‘central front’ in the war on terror.

This analogy, once a piece of campaign rhetoric, is being carried through. The commander who managed the surge in Iraq, General David Petraeus, is now in charge of the war in Afghanistan. The United States continues to increase troop numbers in Afghanistan, and has asked NATO countries and other allies, including Australia, for more troops. There are serious questions about whether the strategy that worked in Iraq can also work in Afghanistan, both operationally and in convincing the public that the war is worthwhile.

Winning a different war

The surge in Iraq was successful not only because it applied more force to winning the war, but because it totally redefined what winning would look like. The U.S. military explicitly abandoned a quick transition to democracy, instead focusing on the protection of civilians. In doing so, it made peace with many former insurgents. One U.S. officer even managed to broker a peace deal with an insurgent after the two discovered a common love for the film Titanic over tea.

Replicating this strategy raises serious questions. Are we prepared to deal with Afghan warlords in the way in which we dealt with sectarian leaders in Iraq? There are some important differences that raise questions about the wisdom of this strategy.

Firstly, it is unclear that warlords have the intentions or the character to be trusted with control over large parts of Afghanistan. Iraqi sectarian leaders were popular rulers, in some cases representing an upsurge of public feeling against American occupation. In contrast, Afghan warlords are largely representative of tribal identities, ancient hierarchies, or the most recent leadership of criminal gangs. Forging alliances with the warlords would be acceding to the most powerful, not recognising real public support. The moral grounds for ceding authority are much murkier in Afghanistan than they were in Iraq. Even where leaders represent ethnicities, the huge diversity of ethnic groups in Afghanistan means that they are likely to be controlling members of other ethnic groups in their respective regions.

The religious extremist groups in Afghanistan are of an extremely different character. Afghanistan has a much stronger fundamentalist tradition than Iraq, and Iraq has had a relatively secular recent history. The oppression of women, summary justice, and religious intolerance are all practiced by many of those we might regard as prospective allies.

In Iraq, the United States has done business with many quasi-religious insurgent leaders. This might perhaps be viewed as a precedent for dealing with religious leaders in Afghanistan who might be pried away from the Taliban’s influence. In Iraq, however, it was very clear that there were limits to the application of Islamic fundamentalist law, even for insurgent groups. The turn of Shiites against al-Qaida was, in part, a reaction to its attempts to impose strict religious doctrines in the areas in which it operated.

Even if we set aside the unpalatability of those who might be turned against the Taliban and al-Qaida, there are reasons to believe that they are also untrustworthy. For local warlords, it might be easy enough to turn against the Taliban or terrorists and use American weapons and funding to fight them. Once the Taliban is dislodged, however, they will be left to fight with any number of other local warlords. Given both historical tribal conflicts, and the current opportunities for economic exploitation, this is likely to happen.

But such considerations of the character of our prospective allies, and their trustworthiness, may be luxuries we can ill afford. The government in Kabul shows few progressive or democratic instincts, and almost no ability to exert control outside of Kabul. Hamid Karzai might be regarded as merely the most powerful tribal leader in the nation, rather than a real executive. The parliament recently voted in support of the notion that women were duty-bound to do as their husbands pleased. To expect any Afghan leader to support western ideals may be unrealistic.

The relative weakness of the Coalition’s position in Afghanistan may also impose the need to ignore the failings of those who could provide help to the occupying forces. In Iraq, the surge allowed the United States to send 20,000 extra troops, but in fact placed several hundred thousand people under arms to oppose their enemies. With public opinion so sceptical about the continuing war, it would be impossible to send such an enormous number of troops to Afghanistan. Afghanistan’s territory is twice as large as Iraq, and far more geographically difficult. An American force of around 60,000, or even 80,000, cannot be expected to control thousands of valleys and mountains, especially in conditions that oscillate between scorching heat and sub-zero cold.

Selling the war

The surge in Iraq came as time was running out for the war. President Bush knew that a new president, probably a Democrat, would most likely begin withdrawing troops. The surge was crafted to have an immediate impact, because time was running out politically as well as militarily.

The war in Afghanistan may be at a similar crossroads. Opposition to the war has been rising steadily in the United States. A CNN poll at the beginning of April showed that 53 per cent of Americans are now opposed to the war in Afghanistan. Support is shaky in other allied countries. A March poll showed that 51 per cent of Australians oppose continued involvement in the war. Despite opposing the war, 68 per cent of Americans in the same CNN poll were in favour of a surge in troop numbers.

The contradictory views of Americans suggest that they are prepared to give the surge a chance. The first reason for this must be that Americans have seen the success of the troop surge in Iraq, and trust both the strategy and its architect, General David Petraeus.

The second reason for Americans to support the surge is the popularity of Barack Obama. Nearly four months into his administration, he continues to enjoy a 63 per cent approval rating. The idea of a surge in Afghanistan benefits from his personal popularity.

Neither of these factors will continue. A policy in Afghanistan that fails to produce results will convince the American people that the war is unwinnable. Having experienced years of stalemate in Iraq, any setbacks at all are likely to erode public confidence. 52 per cent of Americans say that they would oppose any increase in troop numbers beyond the 20,000 proposed for the surge.

Change in Afghanistan must be achieved soon, because Americans will not stand for war coninuing for much longer. A decisive move like the surge seems to be the only means possible to achieve any success in Afghanistan.

Lowering expectations

The surge is the answer to a situation to which no happy endings are available. Afghanistan will not be a democracy, and most likely will also not be particularly stable. The surge, however, represents the best possible hope for some sort of a settlement in Afghanistan. This would involve the expulsion of the Taliban, more control for the government, and a decrease in drug production.

The United States invaded Afghanistan knowing that it had defeated several of the most powerful empires in history. Now, it must swallow its pride and deal with those who can help it to bring stability, if not democracy. A surge in Afghanistan will make for unpleasant moral choices, and a very imperfect settlement, but it may be the best option available.

Tim Mooney is in his fourth year of a combined degree in Law and Arts, majoring in History.