Iran and the Western powers are on a collision course as the clock ticks toward crucial talks in Paris next week about Tehran’s nuclear program. Iranian diplomats insist that their country’s development of nuclear technology is for peaceful, civilian purposes only. They say Iran is merely exercising its right, under the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty, to enrich uranium for reactor fuel.
But the European Union “troika” of Britain, France and Germany and the Bush administration do not believe them. Brandishing evidence of past concealment gathered by U.N. inspectors, they suspect that Iran is seeking weapons-grade uranium to build atomic bombs.
The talks are highly technical in nature. Yet the basic problem underlying complex disputes about yellowcake and centrifuges is more easily understood. It boils down to an abiding, mutual lack of trust. Unless somebody gives ground soon, the Paris talks between the E.U. and Iran could mark a parting of the ways.
“The U.S. is using the nuclear issue as a pretext for regime change,” a senior Iranian official said this week. “The issue is a diversion. The U.S. wants to weaken Iran. Even if the nuclear issue was solved, they would want another thing and another thing.”
Iran had agreed to a temporary suspension of uranium enrichment as a confidence-building measure, not a complete cessation, the official said. And the suspension would not necessarily last much longer. President Mohammad Khatami drove the point home in Isfahan, Iran, this week: “Cessation of these activities is unacceptable to us. If the Europeans insist … whatever happens after, the responsibility lies with them.”
Determined not to repeat its North Korea mistakes, the United States is equally adamant that Iran must give way before it acquires full nuclear weapons capabilities. “It really is now up to the Iranians to do what they need to do,” U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice warned. By offering limited incentives to Iran for the first time last week, she said, the U.S. had “forged a common front with Europe … I’m sure it makes the Iranians uncomfortable.”
Stephen Hadley, the U.S. national security advisor, dismissed Iran’s proffered “objective guarantees.” “The best guarantee is to permanently abandon their enrichment facilities,” he said.
Stuck in the middle, the E.U. is in the increasingly awkward position of holding the ring between Tehran and Washington, which is not directly involved in the talks. While it worries about Iran, Europe’s bottom line is avoiding an Iraq-style rift with the United States.
British officials are urging Tehran to agree to an indefinite suspension of enrichment while talks on trade and normalization issues proceed. “Like history, diplomacy never ends,” a senior official said. But this approach does not recommend itself to Washington neoconservatives such as Richard Perle, who assert that only regime change in Tehran can ultimately solve the problem.
“The belief that there’s a diplomatic solution to be had here is increasingly the triumph of hope over experience,” the Wall Street Journal commented. On the American right, distrust also extends to the E.U., whose leadership on Iran is resented and whose post-Iraq solidarity is doubted.
Iranian officials have been quick to suggest that by agreeing with the United States to carpet Iran in the U.N. Security Council if incentives flop and the talks fail, the troika is walking into a trap. “The Americans are trying to create an environment so the U.S. can hit Iran,” one diplomat said. “And I don’t think the Europeans would ultimately accept this.”
That could be a serious miscalculation. But any Iranian attempt to play the E.U. off against America would test Europe’s unity of purpose. Khatami is due to visit French President Jacques Chirac next month. British diplomats point out that the Iranians have long sought U.S. engagement. Now that it is forthcoming, they say, Tehran detects a plot.
The depth and ferocity of French and Dutch opposition to the E.U. constitutional treaty undoubtedly caught Europe’s political elite by surprise. Now they may be forced to piece together a Plan B, having maintained all along that no such alternative exists.
Opponents of European integration are gleefully anticipating the E.U.’s imminent collapse. Optimists suggest a stronger Europe could emerge. The truth about what happens next probably lies somewhere in between. The E.U. has suffered an unprecedented blow, reflecting a massive miscalculation at the top. But as Jose Manuel Barroso, the European Commission president, noted this week, Europe has faced big problems before — and has usually overcome them.
That might sound a tad complacent. But the drama of the moment can be exaggerated, too, officials suggested. “In France and elsewhere, there was a big debate that reached far beyond the political classes. This is very welcome,” a senior European diplomat said Wednesday. “The referendums showed Europe is important to ordinary people. In France the turnout was 70 percent. That’s enormous. Of course, there are domestic factors. But for too long political leaders have been saying Europe is important but not asking the people what they think, doing it without them. Now the voters have said we want to be listened to.
“What they actually said is that they want more, not less Europe — a more social Europe, a more democratic Europe, a different Europe. That’s positive,” the diplomat said.
Doubts about whether these voters’ message will actually be absorbed and acted upon in Brussels and elsewhere potentially undermine such upbeat assessments. Even before the referendum results were known, Euro-enthusiasts were examining ways of implementing key parts of the treaty whatever the verdicts.
Charles Grant, director of the Center for European Reform, argued, for example, that plans to appoint an E.U. “foreign minister” need not be scrapped just because the treaty as a whole might fall. Grant has a good point, even if it does not appear particularly democratic. American neoconservatives will be immensely gratified if Europe retreats into more easily manipulated, opposing camps of nation-states.
A different perspective comes from Asia. China and regional states back a strong Europe as a balancing pole to U.S. unilateralism, although Beijing may try to exploit the E.U.’s confusion to get its way on issues including the arms embargo and textile exports.
For the emerging democracies of eastern Europe, any weakening of collective E.U. confidence and resolve is potentially far more serious. E.U. membership has become an almost existential issue not only for Bulgaria and Romania, due to join in 2007, but also for Turkey, the Balkan states, Ukraine, Georgia and Moldova. Their hopes of membership have been continually raised, often irresponsibly.
But the E.U. now looks to have overreached itself. If Brussels accepts that one of the voters’ messages was opposition to further enlargement (and associated large-scale immigration), the geopolitical fallout could be severely destabilizing. Also obscuring the way ahead is the fact that key E.U. governments are badly placed at present to handle the crisis, let alone articulate a revamped European vision.
Germany and Italy are facing elections; French politics are in disarray; and Tony Blair, beset by Euro-skepticism, is a weakened figure. Yet it is Blair, taking on the E.U. presidency next month, who must try to sort out the various interpretations of what the voters really meant — and where Europe goes now.
Despite these myriad, unpredictable ramifications, the votes usefully focused minds on what was most important, according to the senior European diplomat. “Everyone knows the E.U. has brought peace to Europe. Everyone knows it has brought prosperity, although that prosperity is not equally shared. Everyone knows that individual countries cannot act alone when it comes to problems like the Middle East or Iran or crime and illegal immigration. They must work together. There is no choice.
“Europe must answer the people’s questions. They want to know who is in charge of my life? Who decides? But the ambition for Europe is still there.”
Syria’s decision last week to restore diplomatic relations with Baghdad after a break of 23 years was portrayed by its foreign minister, Farouk al-Sharaa, as a brotherly gesture that would enhance Iraq’s security and stability. But altruism alone seems an implausible reason for Syria’s about-face. As with its accelerated troop withdrawal from Lebanon, Damascus was primarily responding to international pressure orchestrated by the Bush administration.
President Bashar al-Assad may have mixed feelings about helping the U.S. secure Iraq’s borders and impede Islamist insurgents after an invasion that he fiercely opposed. It is unlikely that the Beirut street protests occasioned by the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri could by themselves have forced his hand. The leaving of Lebanon has potentially profound (and unwelcome) domestic implications, as the Baath Party congress expected in the next month may demonstrate. But the alternatives for Assad were all worse: increasing ostracism, tightening financial and trade sanctions, U.N. censure — and ultimately, the tacit threat of externally enforced regime change.
In a limited sense, the Syrian shift was a success for what Joseph Nye, a former Clinton administration official, has dubbed “soft power.” This means the evolution of foreign policy strategies that in their broader applications appeal to others’ self-interest, persuade rather than coerce, and subvert and convert rather than confront and defeat. “Soft power means that others want what the United States wants,” said Nye, now a Harvard professor. “It means there is less need to use carrots and sticks.”
Soft power emphasizes common aspirations such as democratic and individual rights, shared cultural values and enlightened policymaking. “It means we say to people, ‘We are going to help you achieve your goals.’ It’s not just a question of whose army wins but of whose story wins,” Nye said at Chatham House in London this week.
Soft-power theory — as opposed to “hard power,” broadly meaning coercive military force — is all the rage among governments scarred by the Iraq convulsions. In a way, it is a statement of the flaming obvious. But it suits preexisting European predilections for nonviolent solutions. The European Union’s eastward enlargement is now portrayed as a soft-power paradigm, predicated on attraction, not attrition.
In other forms, soft-power tactics involving externally supplied popular organizational, financial and information tools have been used by the U.S. in Serbia, Georgia and Ukraine to facilitate peaceful democratic transformations where hard-power options were not available. Now even Russia, alarmed at its eroding influence in the “post-Soviet space,” has got in on the soft-power act, with President Vladimir Putin setting up a government department to project Russia’s “civilizing” mission in neighboring countries.
Whether an obvious stratagem or not, the overall neglect of soft-power imperatives by successive U.S. governments, coupled with the Bush administration’s militarily aggressive, unilateralist post-9/11 policies, has generated increasing international hostility, Nye said. This has undermined both U.S. hard power and U.S. objectives.
To American surprise, for example, Turkey’s Parliament refused to allow U.S. troops to pass through its territory before the Iraq invasion. In contrast, Osama bin Laden’s Afghan cave videos, a “malign but brilliant” use of soft power, won Arab sympathy for his cause.
Nye said U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, like other unilateralists fixated on American military superiority, had expressed difficulty in understanding soft-power concepts. This is a continuing problem, Nye said.
But there are signs that President Bush is embracing the idea in his second term, Nye said. This is evident in his more energetic promulgation of democratic values, in the increased funding for public diplomacy programs — and, perhaps, in his handling of Syria.
“Soft power won the cold war,” Nye said. Ideas, not armies, eventually brought down the Berlin Wall, although hard-power deterrence was crucial, too. This victory could be repeated in the struggle for hearts and minds in the Arab world.
“There are signs we can do this again. But there is a long way to go.”
Russia’s residual neighborhood-watch scheme in what was once the Soviet Union’s tightly policed backyard took another knock last week when Ukraine, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Moldova joined forces in a new “Union of Democratic States.”
Mikhail Saakashvili, the Georgian president who has been a thorn in Moscow’s side since Tbilisi’s 2003 “rose revolution,” said the group would “not act as a counterbalance or a reproach to anyone.” But then he offered a reproach anyway. Friendship based on independence and freedom, he said, was very different from belonging to “an alliance like the Warsaw Pact or an empire like the Soviet Union.”
The timing was probably not coincidental. Along with a host of world leaders, U.S. President George W. Bush will be in Moscow on May 9 to mark the 60th anniversary of Nazi Germany’s defeat. Bush, who backed Ukraine’s pro-democracy “orange revolution” last year, will also visit Georgia, where the U.S. launched a $50 million military training program over the weekend and where it has become Saakashvili’s principal ally.
It is no accident, either, that the U.S. leader will visit Latvia, which, like Lithuania and Estonia, escaped Moscow’s clutches in the 1990s and joined NATO and the European Union. They are now viewed as role models by several post-Soviet states.
Last week’s fleeting visit to the Kremlin by U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice was meant to smooth the way for Bush’s meeting with President Vladimir Putin. But her comments on regional issues, coupled with the latest machinations of Moscow’s unforgiving former satellites, exacerbated Russian geopolitical paranoia.
Denouncing the Belarus government of President Alexander Lukashenko as Europe’s last dictatorship, Rice said it was “time for a change.” She hinted that forthcoming elections there could be the next target for the U.S. “soft power” pro-democracy pressure tactics perfected in Serbia in 2000. Unfortunately for Putin, benighted Belarus is just about the only Russian neighbor that still follows an unequivocal pro-Moscow line. Russia’s foreign minister, Sergei Lavrov, told Rice to mind her own business.
Russia’s once unchallenged influence in Central Asia is also slipping. The United States has established military bases in the area since Sept. 11. And as recent upheavals in Kyrgyzstan suggest, regime change can be catching.
In this atmosphere, the post-Soviet Commonwealth of Independent States’ summit in Moscow on May 8, which includes Ukraine and Georgia, could prove a schismatic, even terminal meeting. In a country historically fearful of encirclement and fragmentation, these accelerating neighborhood trends are seen by many Russians as externally threatening and domestically destabilizing.
In his book “Cold Peace: Russia’s New Imperialism,” Janusz Bugajski said that Moscow’s neighborhood botch stems from internal weakness as much as foreign policy bungling. Russia “gained an empire before it became a state or a coherent nation,” he wrote. Contrary to its vital interests and despite reduced capabilities, Russia continued to brandish regional ambitions like “phantom limbs,” Bugajski argued.
But while the result has been repeated humiliations, rising hard-line nationalism and falling confidence in an increasingly dictatorial Putin, Russia’s leader retains several trump cards. Rice admitted the U.S. needed a “strategic partnership” on nuclear proliferation, the Balkans and the Middle East, and terrorism. And then there are Russia’s vast energy resources, on which the West increasingly relies. As at their Bratislava tete-a-tete in February, Bush can be expected to balance “freedom’s cause” with pragmatic calculations when meeting with Putin.
Says analyst Anatol Lieven, “Putin may be an uncomfortable partner, but the West is unlikely to get a better one.”
Washington hopes the democratic revolutions in the “post-Soviet sphere” will ultimately spread to Russia itself. But it knows such a transformation runs the risk of a disastrous, post-Putin relapse into unrestrained authoritarianism and an anti-Western siege mentality.
Escalating tension with China, violently illustrated by renewed anti-Japanese protests in Shanghai and other big cities over the weekend, is increasing pressure on Tokyo to expand its military capabilities and back a deepening strategic alliance with the United States reaching from East Asia to the Gulf.
Japan’s pacifist postwar Constitution restricts its armed forces to self-defense. About 50,000 U.S. troops in Okinawa and other bases guarantee the country’s security in return for a $5 billion Japanese cash contribution. But defense analysts say the perceived Chinese threat, a more assertive, nationalistic Japanese mindset, and Washington’s wish to use Japan as a command post for operations extending to the Middle East are transforming Japan’s formerly semidetached defense posture. After 60 years largely spent keeping its head down, Japan appears destined to supplant Australia as Washington’s “deputy sheriff” in the Asia-Pacific region and become a pillar of America’s 21st century security architecture.
According to Kazuya Sakamoto of Osaka University, Japan and Britain are central to a far-reaching, post-9/11 U.S. review of its overseas force deployments. “The basic idea is that the U.S. will gradually withdraw from the Eurasian landmass while assigning the two island nations at the east and west of Eurasia, Japan and Britain, even greater importance as strategic bases to ensure stability in Europe and Asia,” Professor Sakamoto writes in the current issue of Japan Echo magazine.
An important element in this transformation fell into place last week when Japan agreed in principle to allow the command headquarters of the U.S. Army’s 1st Corps to transfer from Washington state, on the U.S. Pacific coast, to Camp Zama, near Yokohama, south of Tokyo.
The 1st Corps has responsibility for operations in the Pacific and Indian oceans, extending to the conflict zones and oil fields of the Gulf. The primary focus of its forward deployment is likely to be the defense of Taiwan, regional challenges posed by China’s military expansion and the nuclear standoff with North Korea. But the United States has also reportedly proposed that command operations of the 13th Air Force, now on Guam in the Pacific — a base for long-range bombers and tanker aircraft frequently deployed in the Middle East — be moved to Yokota Air Base in Tokyo.
“The ramifications of this would be that Japan would essentially serve as a front-line U.S. command post for the Asia-Pacific and beyond,” said Christopher Hughes of Warwick University in a paper published by the International Institute for Strategic Studies.
The American forward deployments are certain to be viewed with suspicion in China and farther afield — and face political opposition in Japan. The U.S.-Japan security treaty states that U.S. bases may only be used “for the purpose of contributing to the security of Japan and the maintenance of international peace and security in the far east.” It says nothing, for example, about Iran.
But Hughes said that since Japan had given the United States a free hand to use its bases for previous Middle East operations, Tokyo “might have to accept its enhanced role as a fulcrum for U.S. military commands.”
Japan’s worries about China are the main reason for acquiescing in U.S. plans that effectively shatter any remaining pacifist illusions. But Tokyo is in any case growing more militarily assertive under Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi. Japan sent noncombat troops to Iraq, while its navy has joined the U.S.-led Proliferation Security Initiative. Military cooperation with Australia, South Korea and Southeast Asian states is developing.
Japan is acquiring a ballistic missile defense system and new satellite intelligence capabilities. It has pledged to help keep the peace in Taiwan. And there has even been talk of preemptive strikes against North Korea and a Japanese nuclear deterrent. In short, Japan, emerging from the shadow of its past, is again becoming a military power with a global role and hopes of a permanent U.N. Security Council seat.
China’s actions may thereby be more easily explained. But further demonstrations of hostility will only exacerbate the slide toward an Asian cold war.
When King Gyanendra sacked the Nepalese government, locked up leading politicians, curtailed press freedom and imposed emergency rule on Feb. 1 international condemnation flowed thick and fast. Britain briefly recalled its ambassador and suspended military assistance. India halted defense-related aid. The United States deplored the regal coup. The U.N. demanded “immediate steps to restore democratic freedoms and institutions.”
But nearly two months later all this huffing and puffing has had almost no effect. Nepalis are still trapped between military-backed absolutist monarchal rule and a Maoist-inspired insurgency, and the unrest is intensifying. Analysts say turmoil in the Himalayan kingdom has the potential to destabilize the region, drawing in India, China and Pakistan.
Kate Allen, U.K. director of Amnesty International, said after visiting Kathmandu last week that the human rights situation was extremely worrying. The judiciary is barely functioning and journalists are being jailed or harassed. “What really struck me was how seriously personally afraid everyone was,” she said. “It’s all about intimidation and control. It’s nasty and it’s probably going to get much nastier. But it’s absolutely clear that people don’t want to give up on democracy.”
Amnesty has called on the U.N. Commission on Human Rights to send an investigator to Nepal. Many Nepalis believe that resolute U.N. action in Geneva could force the king to retreat. But although there was a token release of politicians before the U.N. meeting, protest rallies by students and rights activists are routinely broken up by the riot police, backed by the army, and hundreds are in jail.
In a report this month Human Rights Watch said the Nepalese army was “one of the world’s worst perpetrators of enforced disappearances.” Its spokesman said: “Given the scale of the documented disappearances, the heightened role of the army after the king’s seizure of power is frightening.”
Meanwhile, the brutal Maoist insurgency, the pretext for Gyanendra’s takeover, shows no sign of abating. The rebels’ leader, known as Prachanda, has demanded a general strike on April 2. The rebellion feeds on the chronic poverty of most of Nepal’s 24 million people. Yet despite their liberationist ideology, the rebels have killed more civilians than soldiers in nine years of civil war that has cost 11,000 lives.
Until recently they were said to be losing popular support. But far from deterring them, the emergency may be helping. According to Gareth Price of the think tank Chatham House, the Maoists are “the clear winners” in the post-coup period.
India’s decision to strengthen border security has underscored its nervousness about what one minister called possible “spillover effects in neighboring states.”
Stephen Cohen, a senior South Asia analyst and author based at the Brookings Institution in Washington, said such fears were well founded. “Nepal has to be seen in the context of failed states,” he said. “The central government has no capability. Democratic forces are fragmented. Then there’s the Maoist rebellion. It’s a perfect storm. The only thing lacking is WMD.”
Nepal needs outside help, Cohen said, but there is no sign that any country is prepared to step in. “This is primarily India’s baby. This is a country where India will have to take the lead. They may have to think about an international stabilization force and a Bonn-type process of nation building, like Afghanistan.”
Analysts suggest that the worsening instability could draw in neighboring China. And an offer from Pakistan of arms in place of those withheld by India illustrates the potential for stoking regional tension.
But an Indian government spokesman said New Delhi has no plans to lead an international intervention and was principally relying on diplomatic pressure. “What we want is to see democracy restored. We have said this to the Nepalis in no uncertain terms. We don’t see Nepal as a failed state. But it certainly is a bit of a mess.”
