Adrift on a Sea of Change Pt. 2

While ignorance of history may condemn us to repeat our mistakes, it can also prevent us from repeating our successes. Following the Second World War, U.S. leaders were united in their belief that the future peace of Europe was unattainable if the defeated Axis powers were kept weak and humiliated. While there was a multiyear period of formal occupation and no formal end to the presence of American troops in Western Europe to this day, the United States also began almost immediately to rebuild all of Western Europe – in Allied and enemy nations alike – in the war’s aftermath.

Simultaneously, U.S. diplomats began laying the groundwork for the creation of formal economic and political ties among Western European nations – especially Germany and France – that would eventually evolve into today’s European Union. Our approach to post-war Japan was similar. It appears that among the lessons we learned after World War I was that defeated and isolated enemies present a threat to future stability and security. And we seemed to acknowledge that a teaspoon of magnanimity helped the medicine of American power go down.

This lesson clearly has application to today’s world. Granted, there are many and radical differences between the post-war balance of power and the structure of today’s international political environment. Nonetheless, there are enough similarities to make the application of a more magnanimous, collaborative approach to the world a compelling proposition.

The term “hubris” has been bandied about as characteristic of America’s attitude toward the world today, and with considerable justification. Underlying that hubris, however, is a more important misconception of the dynamics that are typical of the unipolar distribution of geostrategic power. Post-1989 U.S. presidents, and George W. Bush in particular, have failed to understand that the exercise of power by the world’s single hyperpower automatically implies compound costs that are not unlike “opportunity costs” in the world of economics. They are indirect costs that the hyperpower must bear that are to some extent hidden and not overtly accounted for by decision-makers because they are ideologically antithetical to the hyperpower’s dominant worldview.

Adrift on a Sea of Change

As the presidential campaign season heats up and the national conventions are in the offing, I want to continue for a while to focus on foreign affairs. I will add two more posts under the heading "Adrift on a Sea of Change" from my former blog, as I feel they offer a nice summary of what has transpired in U.S. foreign policy over the course of the past decade or so. Then I will begin to explore what comes next, in the hopes that someone is both thinking and listening.

From a certain perspective, U.S. foreign policy before and after the turn of the century presents the image of a vessel adrift on a sea of change. The geostrategic alignment of the international political system has shifted dramatically, in many ways to favor the United States. We have not weathered the success well, though, failing to adapt to our new status as the world’s only remaining superpower.

Throughout the Cold War, U.S. foreign policy was conceived and executed within the strategic framework of “containment,” or the strategy of containing the spread of Soviet (or “communist”) power and influence in the world. After the ideological and economic collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States never found a replacement for containment as an overarching strategic policy direction. Our strategic national interests, which had for so long been defined against the backdrop of the Soviet monolith, now seemed shifting and uncertain.

What is tragically missing from U.S. foreign policy – and has been since at least 1989 – is a new strategic orientation to the world. Under successive Republican and Democratic administrations since the fall of the Berlin Wall, the United States has adopted a wide range of thematic tactical frameworks for foreign policy, sometimes employing multiple, conflicting frameworks simultaneously. Too often this orientation has put the United States on a reactive footing, forcing us to respond to events controlled by others. Rather than acting as the world’s policeman (a problematic role on its own merits), the United States has seemed more like its firefighter over the past 15 years.

As a result, our foreign policy record is riddled with numerous failures. More telling, though, are those successes that U.S. presidents have pointed to, such as the spread of democracy and the free market in the countries previously behind the Iron Curtain, the liberation of Kuwait, the end of open conflict in the Balkans, and the destruction of the al Qaeda infrastructure and removal from power of the Taliban in Afghanistan.

In each of these cases, it can be argued that our success was only superficial, that we failed to see our policies through to their logical conclusions. In Eastern Europe, rapid economic and political progress in the early 1990s was followed by the onset of severe structural economic problems and a return to favor of former communist leaders. Political and economic reforms ground to a halt, most famously in Russia itself. In the Persian Gulf, the U.S. was successful in pushing the Iraqis out of Kuwait, but our failure to destroy the Iraqi military and removing Saddam Hussein from power set up a decade of difficulties that ultimately precipitated last year’s invasion of Iraq. In the Balkans, the widespread warfare and genocide has ended, but many war criminals remain free, little reconciliation has occurred and ethnic conflict still regularly flares up. In Afghanistan, war lords still control vast amounts of territory and Osama bin Laden managed to escape – and still remains free today.

(Mis)Understanding Terrorism Pt. 2

As discussed in the previous posting, conceptualizing counter-terrorism in terms of a "war" reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of the threat and can result in policies that are ineffective at increasing national security. In fact, an overly militarized approach to fighting terrorism carries with it a number of serious risks that have the potential to actually worsen the terrorist threat.

First, the absence of easily identifiable and clearly valuable military targets puts pressure on the U.S. government to find other targets against which military operations can be more successfully planned and conducted. Iraq certainly fits this category. Second, the high number of "enemy" and civilian casualties that accompany today’s bombing-intensive military tactics provides a wealth of symbolic resources that terrorists can use to generate renewed support and fresh recruits to their cause. Iraq again provides an unfortunate example. Following the officially declared "end" of hostilities in the Spring of 2003, the presence in Iraq of Islamic terrorists actually increased rather than subsided.

As President Bush rightly, albeit unintentionally, stated just prior to the 2004 Republican convention, a "war" on terrorism is never winnable precisely because the nature of the terrorist enemy denies the possibility that capturing territory, destroying armies or crippling infrastructure – all basic goals in war – will defeat them. What the terrorist threat calls for instead is a more nuanced strategy that combines certain military efforts with simultaneous campaigns on the intelligence, law enforcement, political, economic and even cultural fronts.

Where there are identifiable and clearly valuable terrorist targets that can be destroyed militarily, we should use overwhelming military force in surgical strikes and aggressive attacks with tightly defined objectives. But we also need to build stronger alliances with like-minded nations to use our collective political and economic resources to provide a viable alternative to young Muslims who believe they are living under oppressive conditions. We must begin an aggressive cultural campaign to remake the image of America in the Arab world, which can never happen until we insist on an equitable settlement of the Israeli-Palestinian dispute.

Many Americans would find such suggestions offensive because they imply that we are partially responsible for terrorism. Until we acknowledge that our policies, right or wrong, have made some contribution to the conditions that spawn hatred of America, we cannot possibly understand and defeat our terrorist enemies. We did not invade Iraq in order to kill Iraqi civilians, but we cannot deny that our actions caused a significant number of noncombatant deaths in Iraq. Similarly, while our policies in the Middle East are not intended to incite hatred of America and contribute to the conditions that make terrorism possible, we cannot deny those unintended side-effects.

None of this necessarily suggests that we should withdraw our support for Israel or refuse to pursue our interests in the Arab world. But we must understand that we do not execute these policies in a vacuum. Our own actions generate a ripple effect that sometimes advances and sometimes undermines U.S. interests in the Middle East and the world.

I originally posted this entry and the previous one on the nature of the terrorist threat and America's reponse to it on a former, now-defunct blog that I wrote in 2005. I believed it was important to refresh and repost these arguments here given the focus on foreign policy and national security in the current presidential campaign. It is time for us to set aside petty school-yard political attacks and seriously confront the geostrategic challenges we face as a nation. I hope to continue to post entries on these topics in the coming weeks and months and make my own small contribution to the debate.

(Mis)Understanding Terrorism

It is sad to admit it, but terrorism more than anything else seems to be the defining attribute of the 21st century so far. While the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, provide the most extreme instance of terrorist violence in history, the first few years of this century have witnessed many massive acts of terrorism, from Bali to Spain to Russia.

The response of the Bush administration has been to launch a massive “war” on terror that began with the invasion of Afghanistan and the dismantling of al Qaeda’s infrastructure there. The war on terror eventually encompassed a broad range of U.S. initiatives, including actions as diverse as international intelligence and law enforcement efforts targeted against suspected terrorists, the creation of the Department of Homeland Security and other dramatic changes to the U.S. government, but the emphasis and focus has always been on military tools.

The Bush administration even placed its invasion of Iraq under the umbrella “war on terror” term, despite the absence of any credible ties between Iraq and active terrorist organizations. In today’s political rhetoric, any potential threat to the United States that is even loosely related to the Islamic world or a non-governmental entity is made to fit into the global terrorist threat catch-all.

The Bush administration’s behavior and its public statements about terrorism and other threats reveal some fundamental misunderstandings that doom our nation and our allies to continued terrorist attacks and failed policies in places like Iraq, Iran and North Korea.

Talking about terrorism in terms of “war” reveals a dramatically inaccurate assessment of the enemy. Much like the British during the American Revolution and the United States in Vietnam, the Bush administration is thinking about terrorists as conventional enemies that can be engaged in a military conflict in which the stronger side will prevail. But even more so than guerrilla warriors throughout history, terrorists are difficult to find and isolate. In a new twist on this old theme, terrorists are driven by an ideology of hate and a murderous ethic that respects no national boundaries and is difficult to define geographically.

President Bush and other administration officials periodically pay lip-service to this amorphous nature of our terrorist enemies, but the administration’s actions seem more aligned to a conflict with a conventional opponent. By treating the struggle against terrorism as a war, we are misconstruing the nature of the fight, selecting methods and weapons that are poorly matched to the situation and the enemy and using our nation’s vast resources ineffectively. Our error is compounded when we disingenuously incorporate actions like the invasion of Iraq into the “war on terror” in a bid for sustained public support when such campaigns are at most only indirectly related to defeating terrorism.

In my next posting, I will explore the specific ways in which the “war” label in the context of counter-terrorism leads to policy choices that ultimately work in opposition to the stated objective of ending the threat of terrorism.

Three Umpires

I recently participated in a retreat at work. At this retreat, an attorney gave a presentation on the company's standard of ethics. One of four elements of ethical behavior at the company is "Honesty," and the following phrase was included in the description of what we mean when we say "honesty" at my company: ...we always 'tell it like it is'...

At a dinner that evening, I explained to the attorney that I find this statement quite troubling, which he had difficulty understanding. So, I told him the story of the three umpires, which goes like this.

Three umpires are having a disagreement over how to call balls and strikes. The first umpire says, "Some pitches are balls and some are strikes, and I call 'em what they are." The second umpire says, "Some pitches are balls and some are strikes, and I call 'em like I see 'em." The third umpires pauses a moment, looks at both his colleagues and then says with a smile, "They ain't nothin' 'til I call 'em!"

I asked the attorney which umpire was like our company. He didn't answer the question, but it was clear to everyone at the table that we see the world like the first umpire. It was also obvious to all of us that the third umpire did the best job of "telling it like it is."

The wisest people and most successful organizations understand that they have the potential to shape reality with their words.

Freedom and Identity

So, what does identity have to do with freedom? The basis of my argument is that how I answer the question, "Who am I?" has a lot to do with the answer to the question, "What am I free to do?"

I should make clear that much of the thinking here is far from original and is merely a distillation of what many have thought before. My friend and I did, however, offer a somewhat unique (if exceedingly minor) addition to this line of research and theory with a paper in 2006.

Basically, this all has to do with a particular understanding of the relationship among language, meaning and action. Someone once told me that rhetorical theorist Kenneth Burke said that to call a man a murderer is to prepare for a hanging in the morning. I don't know whether Burke actually said that, but it is consistent with what he and others understand to be a fundamental characteristic of language -- We speak our world. What we say about something has an awful lot of influence over what we do about it. This is because language -- the words we use -- is the basis for the meanings we make. And I define meaning to be a socially constructed symbolic framework for action.

The meaning(s) I have for something both results from the language I use in relation to it and triggers how I act in toward it. The same can be said for the self. The identity I have is basically a collection of meanings that I have (and others have -- we have together) about who I am. That identity then forms the basis for how I act. If I construct (with others) an identity for myself that includes the element "idiot," then I am highly unlikely to consider obtaining a PhD among my options (unless I find that to be a legitimate pursuit for idiots). Therefore, my freedom to act -- in this case to enter a doctoral program, complete my coursework, pass my candidacy exams, complete my dissertation and successfully defend it, thus earning a PhD -- is constrained by my identity, my self-concept.

Now, there is a legitimate question regarding whether or not I possess the intellectual potential to successfully complete a doctoral program. Nonetheless, there is also a possibility that even if I have adequate intellectual potential, my identity may be structured in such a way as to preclude me from exercising true choice if it excludes this potential as part of my self-concept.

The point my friend and I made in the paper mentioned above is that we cannot ever come close to "true" freedom unless we raise our awareness of how our identity could be constraining our freedom of action by automatically limiting our range of choices. Alternatively, the extent to which we cede control over our identities to others, we enslave ourselves to them. This is how Madison Avenue makes its money.

On Freedom

In our society, we often think of freedom in terms of political systems and our place in them. Seldom do we turn our attention to the question of identity and the extent to which "who we are" either expands or contracts our freedom.

First, we should probably work out what we mean when we say "freedom." We could take 20 paragraphs or more to work our way to a definition, but let me try a shortcut: Freedom is the ability to exercise choices regarding the nature and quality of our existence. (If you would like to challenge that definition, let's work it out in the comments.)

So, if I were truly free, I could make a series of choices that would determine all the circumstances of my life. Nothing would be beyond my control or outside the realm of social possibility. (Yes, for those of you paying attention, my use of italics indicates that I've introduced something potentially troublesome here. Pay attention!) I feel the need to say social possibility, because I'm assuming the absence of a magical ability to control physical possibility. For example, I am making the assumption that I cannot be free to float effortlessly 10 feet off the ground. The law of gravity says that an object with my mass within a certain proximity to the earth cannot do that, and there is no political or social mechanism I know of that will allow me to overturn or suspend enforcement of the law of gravity.

All of the non-physical things (I could draw an essential v. existential dichotomy here, but I won't. That would just beg a vicious critique from some world-renowned expert in phenomenology or existential philosophy, and I don't have the philosophical guns to endure that fight. Not that any such experts are reading this blog.), however, are in. I'm talking about whom I love and how I love them, whom I hate and how I hate them (if anyone, in either category) -- where I work, if I work at all, what I eat, what religion I observe, if I observe any at all, what clothes I wear, what car I drive, what name I call myself and others call me, how long I wear my hair, what sports I play, what music I listen to, what thoughts I have, what political philosopies (or other philosophies of a non-political nature) I espouse, if any, how I express myself, and to whom, if to anyone at all, etc., etc., etc.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Self, he hasn't dealt with issues of social mores or laws and their violation. Such as, does he mean by social freedom the ability to murder someone, with or without being held accountable and potentially punished for his actions?" I wouldn't blame you one bit for having had that thought. I had it myself. And then I had this one: "Ah, self, don't you see? The question of murder is just as contingent as the question of freedom, social or otherwise. It depends on context-specific definition. If I walk into my neighbor's house carrying my Glock 26 and pump 10 rounds into his head, it's murder. If I push the button that launches a Tomahawk cruise missile that kills 20 enemy combatants it's war. One act is worthy of life in prison or even execution, the other makes me a hero. Murder is in the eye of the beholder."

So, then in the middle of all this, what is this thing called freedom? We must return to my original contention that freedom has everything to do with identity -- which happens to have everything to do with the social construction of reality. But that's a very long conversation for another day. I know you all can hardly contain your eagerness for that next post.

UP NEXT: FREEDOM AND IDENTITY

On Faith

In the first substantive post on this "new" blog I promised to come back to faith, or rather a discussion of what is meant by the term "faith" as opposed to "belief." I believe such a distinction is important to understanding much of what is going on around us today. Indeed, I have faith in the importance of this distinction.

If you were to visit my previous and short-lived blog, The Critical Path (http://www.thecriticalpath.blogspot.com), you would quickly learn of my affinity for Northrop Frye. I discovered Frye during my graduate work at the University of Dayton thanks to my Rhetoric professor, Dr. Wade Kenny (check out his bio page here: www.msvu.ca/publicrelations/faculty_profiles.asp#Robert_Wade_Kenny). I find it somewhat difficult to say something like, "Frye was an English professor," though such a statement would be true. I would feel better saying that he is one of the most important theorists of literary criticism, discourse and symbolism of the last century. He spent a fair bit of his career on the literary criticism of the Bible, was drawn to the imaginative capacity of the human spirit and created systemic tools for the analysis of discourse and literary structure that have the power to change your very life.

I encourage you to explore Northrop Frye yourself. You can start here: http://vicu.utoronto.ca/fryecentre/ Of course, I would recommend reading some of Frye’s works, but where to start? Let’s leave that question for another post and get on with the matter at hand, which takes us to a little essay by Frye entitled, "The Dialectic of Belief and Vision" (Myth and Metaphor: Selected essays 1974-1988, pp. 93-107. Ed. Robert D. Denham. Charlottesville, Virginia: University Press of Virginia, 1990).

In this essay, Frye spends some time talking about the difference between belief and faith. Frye writes, "Belief to me refers to a state of mind, faith to its expression in action" (author’s emphasis retained). This is very close to my own understanding of the concepts. I can say that I believe it will rain tomorrow, but I express my faith in the forecast by walking out the door with an umbrella in hand.

So what? Why am I taking the time to draw this distinction, which might seem obvious to you? Let’s try a different illustration to get closer to the real issue at hand. I can say I believe in equal opportunity, but do I have faith if I fail to challenge the racist statement made by my boss over lunch? I might believe the death penalty has a place in democratic society, but my faith is in question unless I am willing to pull the switch and electrocute the guilty prisoner.

We live in a world of belief, and faith increasingly becomes a relic of generations past. We are so far removed from the killing of our food, the extraction of our resources from the earth and the protection of our democracy from the threats of terrorists abroad or neo-conservatives at home that we cannot honestly be considered faithful members of our society. Believers one and all we are. Faithful we are not. Put that in your religious flux capacitor and see where you end up.

Stephen Stills told us that we find the cost of freedom buried in the ground. Who will pay today?

UP NEXT: On Freedom