Saturday, July 30, 2005

History's Grand Question






























I came across the bottom image while searching for the top one.

The top image is an artist's impression of the 8th-9th century Caliph Harun al-Rashid receiving envoys from Charlemagne. Al-Rashid also maintained relations with the Tang Emperor at the other end of the Eurasian landmass, making Baghdad literally the centre of the civilised world.* I think the picture captures the relative positions of the West and Islam at the time - the primitiveness of dark age Europe compared with the refinement, wealth and power of the Muslim world.

The bottom image is of US marines conducting an airlift in Iraq. I think it expresses the contemporary relationship between the West and Islam, i.e. the latter's complete eclipse by the former: technologically, economically, militarily. I'm pretty sure these two juxtaposed images represent the context in which the occupation of Iraq and the broader 'War on Terror' is seen by Muslims round the world, a conclusion reinforced by discussions with Muslim friends. We are faced with a clash of civilisations, but one far more subtle than banalities about Islamo-fascists hating our way of life would suggest.

It's also a pictorial metaphor for one of the great questions of history, which I'll be exploring at length on this blog:
Why is it that among the world's civilisations, that which long seemed the least promising - what we call 'the West' - came eventually to build modernity and completely dominate the globe? (if you cringe at such cavalier use of the term 'modernity', rest assured I'll critique it in upcoming posts).

I say least promising because I'm treating 'the West' as a civilisation distinct from that of classical Greece and Rome, with its roots in the benighted Europe represented by the Frankish envoys in the picture. I'll be framing the discusison in terms of the debate between Eurocentrists, those who emphasise the uniqueness of 'western' civilisation, and anti-Eurocentrists, those who argue that the rise of the West was contingent - on timing, on geography, on the contributions of other cultures. My fascination with this question derives partly from my Chinese heritage (that of history's great second runner), partly from an academic interest that I sometimes have to remind myself isn't shared by everyone. But it does concern all of us, because the signs show that the age of western preeminence is passing. The defining phenomenon of the 21st century will not be terrorism but rather the rennaisance of non-western societies, which one can't comprehend without an understanding of how they fell so far behind in the first place.

History matters, people. And that's not self-justification for my Arts major. ;)


*Champions of New World civilisations will no doubt think that I'm a 'Eurasia-centrist'. Bear with me, I'll attend to the Americas in upcoming posts.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Kingdom of Fiction

This review is in the current issue of Farrago, the Melbourne Uni student magazine. In retrospect it's a bit hard on Sir Ridley - seeing the film with your Crusades history class (lecturer included) disposes you towards criticism. For formatting reasons I've replaced italics with bold text.

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Making a film about the crusades against the backdrop of the War on Terror was always going to be a delicate business. That said, when scholars are lining up to blast the production as ‘complete rubbish’ and ‘Osama bin Laden’s version of history’ the director has clearly missed the mark. Ridley Scott got away with sacrificing history to entertainment in Gladiator because that film didn’t ask viewers to believe they were watching the real thing. Kingdom of Heaven does, parading a Hollywood plot construction as fact and inevitably offending a great many people given the sensitivity of the subject matter. Scott’s boasts of the film’s authenticity have only deepened the hole he has dug for himself by rewriting the past as a progressive political statement. To make things worse, he hasn’t made a very good movie.

Balian the blacksmith (Orlando Bloom) is the illegitimate son of a crusader who has struck it big in the Holy Land and is back in France to tie up loose ends. Having indiscreetly murdered the local priest, Balian is persuaded by his old man to start afresh in the crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. For this is a ‘Kingdom of Conscience’, a utopian project in a world bound by chains of class and religion, where men are judged by character and not their background. Not that this matters for Balian, given that he inherits his father’s fief of Ibelin and starts an affair with the king’s sister. Nevertheless his ‘quality’ is recognised by everyone from Arab noblemen to the leprosy-afflicted King Baldwin, who on his deathbed offers Balian the throne to keep it from the clutches of Guy de Lusignan and his fanatic Knights Templar. Unfortunately Balian defers to the warmongering Guy, who proceeds to get Jerusalem’s army destroyed by the Muslims, leaving Balian in charge of the city’s defence against the legendary Saladin.

One gets the feeling that Scott devised this Middle Eastern Camelot less from conviction than from a desire to avoid his subject matter’s political minefields. Ironically the resulting revisionist schemozzle stumbles right into them, hence the barrage of criticism from Cambridge academics to internet bloggers, Muslim and non-Muslim alike. Even uninformed viewers are not likely to buy Scott’s pitch of the crusader states as an egalitarian and multicultural paradise, hammered home by shots of Arab children cavorting round Balian as he dirties his hands making the Palestinian desert bloom. Audiences are more likely to see a prescription for the region’s current politics rather than an accurate representation of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, which rested on a feudal-religious hierarchy with Latin Christians at the top and Muslims at the bottom. To prop up this historical hatchet job, Scott resorts to demonising a particular group; casting the Templars as vicious fundamentalists is both wrong and as convincing as any cardboard caricature of plot villains. The more Scott bloats up his artificial edifice, the more factual license he has to take: Balian becomes a virtuous plebeian and Sibylla a free-riding amazon, Guy and Reynauld morph into Templars, Baldwin gets an extra year of life so he can be around for the film’s events.

Such historical gymnastics reveal Scott’s misconception of the task facing him. It was impossible for such a movie to be both politically neutral and accurate, since the crusades and the responding jihad were fundamentally religious projects that directed violence against unbelievers. Scott makes some concessions to history, including wild-eyed clerics preaching the sanctity of killing Muslims and Saladin’s casual beheading of Christian prisoners, but ultimately he shies away from confronting his subject matter. The result is not just synthetic but cheapens the realities of cultural and sectarian hatred, which in today’s political context ought to get more serious treatment. If Scott wanted an alternative focus then he could have explored the manipulation of ideas for political ends, a theme for which the crusades offer plenty of material. This would have allowed for even-handed contemporary resonances, from uncritical Western assertions of ethical purity to exploitation of the crusades as a diversion from the failures of Arab states.

Politics aside, Scott approaches this film from the wrong technical angle. Put simply he chooses spectacle over verisimilitude, notwithstanding that the latter marks out good period drama. In Kingdom of Heaven, the dunes of the Moroccan desert substitute for coastal Palestine. Jerusalem is unrecognisable, sitting in a featureless plain with a non-existent mountain rising in its centre. Battle scenes fall back on the tired formula of incoherent masses and heedless charges, without even a rudimentary effort to show tactics. The central battle of Hattin is glossed over completely, in favour of vistas of Quranic war banners, an improbably gaudy True Cross and Saladin’s army engaged in the first all-Arabian derby. Jerusalem’s bombardment resembles the opening night of Operation Iraqi Freedom more than a credible twelfth-century siege.

It is hard to believe that the man who directed Alien and Bladerunner accepted a script as flat as this one. All the characters are two-dimensional, excepting perhaps Balian’s short-lived father (Liam Neeson) and the withered King Baldwin. Balian’s character leaps full-fledged into the film, leaving Orlando Bloom with nothing to do but look rugged and show off his sword fighting skills. Even Saladin is reduced to a quasi-orientalist portrayal, passing up the chance to explore the complexities of this brilliant Kurdish warrior statesman. Indifferent characters can be carried by a strong story, but plot defects abound in Kingdom of Heaven. The film’s linearity suffers from unexplained scene cutting: one moment Balian is leading a refugee column out of Jerusalem, the next he’s back in France working as a blacksmith. Bizarre plot devices further erode the narrative’s credibility. Why is a Syrian aristocrat cross-dressing with his servant and pledging himself as Balian’s slave? Why does Balian prepare for assassins by sitting alone with no weapon outside his castle walls?

Because Kingdom of Heaven doesn’t quite work as a film, it comes across as a gratuitous political exercise. The very title should put viewers on guard as to the film’s authenticity. It is not void of redeeming qualities; Scott’s sense for colour and lighting remains exquisite, while the leper-king Baldwin evokes genuine pathos. But it fails dismally at the challenge of making history into entertainment.

A Taste of Politics



A TASTE OF POLITICS - TAIWAN

WHEN: Wednesday 3rd August, from 7pm

WHERE: Taiwan Café, 234 Little Bourke St , Melbourne

ENTRY: $15 for banquet (drinks not included, vegetarian plenty)

RSVP: Monday 1st August, polintsoc@gmail.com


In the first Taste of Politics for 2005, we will be discussing all things Taiwan. Our guest is Professor Bruce Jacobs of Monash University, one of Australia’s leading experts on Taiwan. Bruce will be discussing the history and background of the Taiwan dispute, as well as the current state of affairs.
http://www.arts.monash.edu.au/chinese/staff/staff_jacobs.html

Proudly brought to you by the Melbourne University Political Interest Society.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Be in it to win it

















For the first few months of its second term, the Bush administration seemed finally to be starting to practice foreign policy. But Condi Rice's decision to snub - no other word will suffice - the ARF meeting in Vientiane this week racks up another notch on Washington's tally of misplaced priorities. At a time when China is raking in returns at every regional forum, the US has signalled that it is not even playing the game. One might dismiss this as the faux pas of a Cold War-trained Europeanist like Rice, but it's better viewed as symbolic of Washington's political malaise in the Asia-Pacific.

Australian governments of all political stripes deal by necessity with Asia on its own terms. No experienced Canberra watcher would have been surprised by Alex D's sudden change of tack over the past fortnight (his backflip with pike, to use Rudd's phrase) to guarantee Australian ratification of the TAC, as the admission price to the East Asian Summit this November. The US foreign policy elite by contrast still has an apparent tendency to view Asia as not having real politics, only security and human rights issues. Washington is happy to beat North Korea or Myanmar around the head but can't be bothered turning up to the forum that has clearly become the engine of regional politics. One need only compare Washington's treatment of the EU and NATO over the Kosovo affair with that of South Korea in the current spat over Pyongyang's nuclear program to see that an attitude transplant is long overdue.

Quite simply the US has had it too good for too long in the region. US policymakers seem stuck with a view of the Asia-Pacific as as US lake, in need of a little militaristic stamping every now and then but not of bona fide, give-and-take diplomacy. It was this mentality, buttressed by racial prejudice, that led pre-1941 Americans to write off Japan as a threat to US regional interests. No one would suggest that today China is being ignored, but mainstream US responses to China's rise remain confined to jingoistic chest thumping rather than serious engagement in the region's political architecture. For several years now it's been an open secret that Beijing is conducting an intense diplomatic campaign across the Asia-Pacific, yet the US persists in an approach of Napoleonic entitlement towards its Asian allies, pressing them into Washington's military adventures but not giving even face value to their economic and political aspirations. Well, times change. The San Francisco order isn't going to survive on inertia for much longer - if the US wants to stay in the driving seat then it has to put in the diplomatic miles, rather than treating the Asia-Pacific as terra manifest destiny.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Galactica Gothic
























'Middle Ages in space' doesn't do justice to Warhammer 40000, which draws on elements across the tapestry of western history to create a dystopian but many-layered future universe. Where Warhammer was confined by its late medieval setting, 40K gets to indulge a smorgasboard of historical flavours - Imperial Rome, Victorian England, 20th century fascism - while keeping Elves, Orcs and other medieval fantasy staples, only adding spaceships and guns. Hardcore science-fiction buffs may sniff at such quarrying of the past as intellectually lazy and tacky, but it’s their loss.

It’s their descriptive opulence in exploring this dark future that makes the Eisenhorn novels worth the read. In contrast to his Gaunt’s Ghosts series, which can qualify at a pinch as military fiction, Dan Abnett's trilogy of the plucky Inquisitor can’t aspire to the detective genre. He gives us a sequence of events rather than well-defined plot lines leading to a resolution, admittedly a criticism that could be applied to many Sherlock Holmes stories. The trick is that the reader doesn’t notice because he (more occasionally, she) is absorbed with the events themselves and the backdrop against which they take place. As Abnett acknowledges in the preface to the one volume edition, the idea was to give readers an insight into the texture of the 40K universe, so often sublimated into the pervasive violence associated with Games Workshop. The ‘storyline’ is Eisenhorn’s self-narrated personal journey, which is used to showcase the 40K universe and serve as a metaphor for its moral paradoxes, with liberal doses of bloodshed, psychokinesis and daemonancy thrown in along the way.

An Inquisitor was the obvious choice for this role, not just because he gets to travel but because the Inquisition is the Imperial institution par excellence, its raison d’etre being to root out difference within Imperial society and burn it – sometimes literally – in the name of species survival. The first paradox is obvious: to save humanity one has to crush it, in spirit and often in flesh. The second is more subtle: to fight the darkness one must flirt with it, a dilemma Abnett works out primarily through the daemon Cherubael, who despite being more a device than a character and warp spawn to boot is one of the Black Library’s more memorable creations. The implications of this ethical impasse aren’t pretty. Everything Eisenhorn is attached to as a human being (even his own body) is progressively destroyed, leaving him stalking the shadows alone, or more precisely with an imprisoned daemon for company. The God-Emperor’s work is a hard calling.

As expected of a 40K novel, Eisenhorn is not a light read. Occasional scenes of poetic charm and even beauty relieve a sea of grimness, in which most characters eventually die with varying degrees of unpleasantness. It seems to be the First Law of Science Fiction – the more dystopian the universe, the more readers relate to people living in it – and Abnett, who’s perhaps better known for his work on the 2000AD (Judge Dredd) franchise, is an old hand at this. I can’t think of a novel that better captures the baroque and sometimes frankly disturbing appeal of Warhammer 40000.



Friday, July 22, 2005

The New Politics of the Asia-Pacific

This is the second article going into AAP. Bit less work than the Iraq one as I've been breathing Asia-Pacific politics since December, when I started interning at the East Asian Institute at NUS in Singapore. Stay tuned for follow-up posts on individual countries over the coming weeks, starting with the big one. That's China, if you hadn't guessed.

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For over half a century the framework for Asia-Pacific international politics has been the so-called ‘San Francisco system’, a US-dominated alliance network built on bilateral security treaties and underpinned by the US military. Japan, South Korea and Taiwan form the northern limb of this system. The first two countries have large and permanent US military deployments on their soil, with the US 7th Fleet based at Yokosuka in the Japanese home islands. Taiwan is no longer formally recognised by the US as a sovereign state, but continues to benefit from US arms sales and the protection of the US navy. The southern limb of the alliance system consists of Thailand, the Philippines, Australia and (more recently) Singapore. These countries do not host large US military deployments but have close security relationships with the US, manifested in Australia’s case by the Pine Gap listening facility, access to US military technology and the commitment to US-led projects in Afghanistan and Iraq. New Zealand ceased to be an operative part of the alliance system with the withdrawal of US security cooperation after 1985.

Unlike the collective security order represented by NATO, the San Francisco system is clearly dominated by the US, having been structured and operated on Washington’s terms. Regional states have accepted this unequal relationship because of the benefits they derive from it: the alliance system has provided security and open markets, allowing them to concentrate on export-driven growth and development. For its part the US receives a forward defence line in the western Pacific, based on regional deployment of the US military and alignment of allied states’ security policy with that of Washington. The system thus represents a ‘grand strategic bargain’ between the US and its regional states, founded in post-1945 conditions of US economic and military preeminence, Cold War security threats and regional underdevelopment.

As these conditions have changed, the US-centric order has come under increasing strain. Three main trends can be identified as direct challenges to its continued existence. Foremost is the rise of China, both economically and militarily. Historically the trust and stability fostered by the US alliance system opened markets, most crucially that of the US itself, to the countries of the Asia-Pacific. Today these countries’ economic interests are increasingly shifting to China; the ASEAN states have already signed a free trade agreement with Beijing and Australia is making rapid progress towards doing so. This economic shift is now manifesting itself politically, seen in China’s growing prominence in regional forums and in the policy stances taken towards China by individual states; consider the Australian government’s recent equivocation over its reaction to a conflict in the Taiwan Strait, or its subdued response to the controversy generated by Chinese defector Chen Yonglin. On the military plane, PLA reform and modernisation coupled with a steady increase in Chinese defence spending is starting to erode US dominance in the western Pacific, a goal dictated by the post-Cold War shift in China’s main security concern from a Soviet land invasion to maritime confrontation. To achieve this China does not need to build a military capacity equal to that of the US, only one that poses a credible threat to US naval assets. These structural changes are being actively exploited by China in the political arena; Beijing’s diplomacy now emphasises multilateralism and the cultivation of ‘strategic partnerships’ with key nations and political groupings as means of countering ‘hegemonism’. China’s internal problems and even prospective political reform are unlikely to significantly affect these foreign policy fundamentals.

The second main factor putting strain on the San Francisco system is the post-9/11 shift in US security policy, which now prioritises the prosecution of terrorist networks and rogue states at the expense of traditional alliances. This resulted in US pressure on South Korea and Japan to make military deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq, deployments which are domestically unpopular and do not serve these states’ immediate security interests. New priorities are also guiding the Bush administration’s policy towards North Korea, specifically the demand for Pyongyang to unilaterally dismantle its nuclear weapons program as a precondition for bilateral dialogue or aid. This stance contradicts South Korea’s ‘sunshine policy’ of supporting the North economically and has strained relations between Seoul and Washington, which are presently at an historic nadir. These are only the two chief examples of how US unilateralism is forcing Asia-Pacific allies to reevaluate their relationship with Washington.

The third factor is the growth of both nationalism and regionalism in the Asia-Pacific. As the nation-building and development projects that occupied regional states in the early Cold War decades have progressed, and as democratisation has given their populations a greater voice, demands for more national autonomy have increased. As obvious security threats recede, popular resentment of a US troop presence subsidised by local taxpayers and immune to local court gains strength. Popular pressure caused the Philippine senate not to renew the US leases over Clarke Field and Subic Bay in 1991, effectively forcing the US military to withdraw from the Philippines, and it remains an ever-present factor for policymakers in Seoul and Tokyo. Regional development also gives rise to an imperative for regional governance; from the early 1990’s this has produced a growing network of multilateral forums such as ASEAN Plus Three and the North Korean Six Party Talks, in which Washington participates as an equal or is even excluded. The inaugural East Asian Summit scheduled for November this year is a prime example of this trend; it represents the failure of long-standing US opposition to an exclusively Asian economic grouping, opposition that was effective as recently as the Asian financial crisis of 1997-8. At that time the US and IMF response to regional economic distress, including that of several US allies, ranged from unsympathetic to exploitative and compared poorly with China’s decision not to devalue the renminbi. Today it is tempting to see Beijing’s action as the harbinger of an emerging regional solidarity that is displacing an anachronistic Cold War security structure.

Nevertheless, the US-centric order is so deeply entrenched that its basic features are likely to persist for several decades. China is still a long way from posing a credible challenge to the US military’s regional dominance. Despite Washington’s recent foreign policy frolics, US leadership retains solid credentials based on five decades of stability and peaceful economic growth; China by contrast suffers from a legacy of mistrust among other regional states and ongoing suspicion about the direction of its self-proclaimed ‘peaceful rise’. Asia-Pacific regionalism remains biased towards the informal, non-institutional style typical of its ASEAN prototype; it does not yet have the depth needed for a bona fide security community that could substitute for the US alliance network. The limits of the new regionalism are evident in the inability to resolve (for example) the festering territorial disputes in the South China Sea, not only where China is concerned but even among the ASEAN claimants. Nor is the US likely to withdraw from the region given the significance of its strategic interests there; to the contrary, Washington has been expanding its security tries with alliance partners over the past fifteen years. Most importantly the US-Japan partnership, which has always been the alliance system’s keystone, was reaffirmed and updated for the 21st century following the 1996 Sino-US confrontation in the Taiwan Strait.

The system will however need to evolve to take account of regional trends, in particular to accommodate China. Given China’s growing integration with the world economy and the size of its own economy, which on current trends will surpass that of the US around mid-century, it is most unlikely that it can be ‘contained’ in the manner of the USSR. A more realistic option is the development of a regional ‘concert of powers’, i.e. a roughly symmetrical system less benign than a security community but based on consultation and consensus rather than confrontation. In practice this would mean drawing both China and Japan into the existing security structure as active and independent players, requiring a flexibility in attitudes and decision-making that is not yet evident in either Beijing or Washington. There are moreover a number of unresolved regional issues with the potential to compromise the Asia-Pacific’s development along stable, non-confrontational lines.

The most dangerous is the ‘Taiwan problem’. So long as China and the US remain strategic rivals, an independent and US-aligned Taiwan will be intolerable to China; it compromises China’s coastal defence and maritime trade routes and restricts the Chinese navy’s freedom of movement. So long as China remains a one-party state, reunification will never occur voluntarily. As neither situation is likely to change in the foreseeable future, Taiwan represents a perpetual flashpoint for Sino-US conflict. To make things worse, the Beijing regime has backed itself into a corner on this issue by nailing its political legitimacy to Taiwanese reunification. China now possesses or will acquire within the next decade the military means to force reunification on Taipei, assuming US non-intervention. Such non-intervention is however unlikely, given Taiwan’s strategic value to the US vis-à-vis a hostile China and the alliance system’s dependence on a credible US military deterrent. A major conflict between the US and China would severely disrupt China’s development, with flow-on consequences across the region; it would certainly destroy any prospect of a ‘concert of powers’ and set the stage for hostile great power confrontation as the paradigm for the Asia-Pacific.

The second issue is North Korea. Nuclear program notwithstanding, North Korea does not pose a credible military threat to any state; to the contrary, Pyongyang is losing control of its already derelict economy and even of the country’s infrastructure, as shown by the growing number of technical accidents. Prospects like a nuclear disaster or a massive refugee exodus are the real threats posed by North Korea, threats that will not be solved by the current US policy of pushing the regime to the wall. The strategic interests of the Asia-Pacific’s three great powers (US, China, Japan) in the Korean peninsula ensure that state collapse there will have regional ramifications. Even best case scenarios are fraught with difficulties; given the relative sizes of South and North Korea and the wealth disparity between the two countries, peaceful reunification presents a problem of far greater magnitude then it did for Germany. In short North Korea represents a geopolitical ulcer similar to that of Taiwan, one that is seemingly incurable but will constantly menace regional stability until resolved.

The third issue is Japan’s behaviour. A sequence of legislation and bilateral agreements with the US over the past decade has laid the ground for a more active Japanese military role in the region. Japan is already the world’s fifth largest defence spender and has the capacity to quickly acquire power projection instruments: nuclear weapons, aircraft carriers, ballistic missiles. With Japan now covering 70% of the cost of the US military deployment on its soil, and a right wing foreign policy school alive and well in Tokyo, the prospect of Japan leveraging its growing security autonomy into an independent great power role cannot be discounted. This may catalyse the development of a regional concert of powers, which would necessarily turn on a triumvirate of Beijing, Tokyo and Washington. Alternatively it could result in a trilateral zero-sum power game that will overshadow the Asia-Pacific for the better part of the 21st century.

Iraq: Quo Vadis?













Ambitious to start with a 3000 word post? Maybe, but this and the one above it have absorbed most of my spare time for the past week and a half. They'll be in the next issue of AAP, the magazine of the Melbourne Uni Political Interest Society.

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In 1999, LSE professor Mary Kaldor published a book entitled ‘New and Old Wars’. In it she argued that where ‘old wars’ were state-centric and fought between clearly defined armed forces, ‘new wars’ will be driven by globalisation and involve a range of actors competing for power amidst the wreckage of failed states. Iraq today exhibits all the traits of such a ‘new war’; it is afflicted by a kaleidoscope of violent groups who can operate because of the power vacuum left by the old regime’s collapse and popular hostility towards the occupying forces. This explains the US military’s manifest inability to pacify Iraq, despite having access to cutting-edge technology and a century’s experience of counterinsurgency warfare. The only way to defuse ‘new wars’ is to remove the failed state conditions that breed them, a task at which the Coalition Provisional Authority singularly failed due to a mixture of complacency, arrogance and ideological blindness. The danger now is that Iraq’s deterioration will reach a critical mass at which national institutions and cohesion break down faster than they can be rebuilt.

Until mid-2004 the official US line was that the insurgents were foreign jihadists and former regime loyalists, no more than 5,000 strong and lacking in genuine support within Iraqi society. When this picture became untenable, the insurgency was repainted as a regressive Sunni movement, led by former Ba’athists and driven by a fear of losing power in the new democratic Iraq. The guiding imperative was the Bush administration’s need to portray the insurgency as separate from and hostile to wider Iraqi society, thus absolving the US of blame for the violence and linking it to the global terrorist threat. For political reasons therefore the insurgency was treated as an autonomous and hierarchical guerilla force, similar to 20th Century communist insurgencies. The US military responded with appropriate tactics: targeting prominent insurgent leaders and strongholds, trying to cut the flow of recruits and assets across Iraq’s borders, attempting to win the ‘hearts and minds’ of Iraqi civilians. Yet in July 2005 the number of attacks continues to grow, with top US generals and even the Secretary of Defence now effectively admitting that there is no end in sight.

Calls for more foreign troops, ‘internationalisation’ of the foreign presence or pressure on Syria and Iran as perceived insurgent sponsors have faded, as it becomes increasingly clear that the nature of the problem has been misconceived. The insurgency is less an organisation than a social movement, defined by opposition to the US presence and drawing recruits from across Iraqi society and beyond: former regime elements, foreign volunteers, home-grown extremists, ex-soldiers, private militias, transnational terrorists, criminals, unemployed youths, sympathisers scattered throughout government and Coalition institutions. While their precise motivations may vary – the prospect of losing power in a US-shaped new order, blame attached to the US for Iraq’s problems, global jihad in defence of Islam – the common element is the use of violence against the US and anyone allied with it, including fellow Muslims. This is where the insurgency connects with the international Islamic terrorist movement. Both are fuelled by an ‘emulation effect’ that leads more and more individuals to take up proven means of striking at the perceived source of their grievances, resulting in a constantly growing network of autonomous groups. Thus the focus on numbers (the official US line now posits between 20,000 and 40,000 ‘hard core’ fighters with some 200,000 supporters) is misguided. The problem is not a limited number of fanatics who can be rooted out from wider society by force, but rather the conditions that facilitate the violence and breed popular hostility towards the Coalition.

Historical guerilla movements relied by necessity on a centralised command structure and on logistical support from outside sponsors or the civilian population; these were weak points that could be targeted by counterinsurgency efforts. In ‘new wars’, by contrast, a combination of state failure and globalisation diffuses the means of inflicting violence throughout society. Arms stockpiles left by Saddam’s regime make weapons readily available, and former regime officials use funds accumulated while in power to bankroll any group which fights the Americans. The breakdown in law enforcement and border control allows insurgents to bolster their resources through theft, looting and smuggling, to move easily around the country and to dominate local communities. Twenty-four hour media coverage enables isolated cells to identify vulnerable targets, determine which tactics and weapons are most effective and coordinate attacks with other groups; it also aids psychological warfare by bombarding Iraqi and international audiences with constant images of violence, peppered with especially horrendous incidents such as major bombings or televised hostage executions. The internet provides a communication, propaganda and recruitment system that is impossible to shut down, and gives anyone with a computer and telephone line access to technical knowledge ranging from bomb-making to urban warfare tactics. Rampant unemployment and criminality provides a vast pool of potential volunteers, and creates an environment in which citizens are under pressure to assist insurgents out of fear, opportunism or clan and ethnic loyalties. The process of rebuilding government institutions and the Coalition’s dependence on local translators and intelligence sources allows extensive penetration by insurgent sympathisers, facilitating sabotage and blackmail, providing targeting data and compromising counterinsurgency operations.

Widespread hostility towards the occupying forces both drives the insurgency and creates an environment in which it can flourish. Notwithstanding the impression gained from western media coverage, US troops are the main object of insurgent violence. Targeting patterns have been consistent for over two years: measured by the month, attacks on Iraqi civilians have comprised less than 5%, those on the new Iraqi security forces between 5% and 15%, those on Coalition forces between 75% and 90%. One reason that the training of new Iraqi security forces has been prioritised is the negative feedback generated by American troops: civilians refuse to cooperate with them or provide intelligence, hide insurgents and weapons caches and feed the enemy information about their movements. While this antagonism has its roots in natural distrust of an invading force, it has flowered from events after the invasion. The devolution of law enforcement on the US military meant that it was held responsible for the chaos that descended across postwar Iraq; it also dictated a pervasive US troop presence that created a sense of subjection to a foreign power, with all the attendant resentment and humiliation. Cultural illiteracy and a lack of interpreters among US troops inevitably caused friction with the civilian population, while repeatedly extended tours of duty in a guerilla warfare environment makes soldiers embittered and heavy-handed. Since March 2003 US military action has been one of the primary causes of civilian deaths and property damage in Iraq, and compensation is rarely forthcoming. Harsh security measures such as mass detention and incarceration without trial, and more flagrant abuses of power symbolised by Abu Ghraib, complete the image of an occupation in the worst rather than benign sense of the word.

This accumulating hostility has been exploited by insurgents. Omnipresent violence forces the US military to keep swathes of Iraq under effective martial law, while collateral damage caused by attacks on US troops makes their presence unwelcome to the local population. Another tactic is to provoke excessive reactions from US forces. Targeting roadblocks leads US troops to adopt shoot-to-kill tactics that inevitably claim civilian victims. The November 2004 assault on Fallujah was (like the 1968 Tet Offensive) a tactical victory but a public relations disaster, producing footage of US troops shelling mosques and apparently shooting unarmed and wounded Iraqis at point blank range. In short the presence of Coalition forces in Iraq has come to mean violence for civilians, whichever direction it comes from; small wonder that polling data indicates that the general attitude towards Coalition forces is that they are at best a necessary evil and should leave as soon as possible.

Ultimately it is this willingness on the insurgents’ part to inflict wanton destruction that has confounded Coalition military efforts. Historically, guerillas sought to control the institutions and social fabric of the nation-state: the protagonists of ‘new wars’ seek to destroy them, to make way for alternative social orders based on narrower identities like race and religion, or simply to benefit from the chaos. In Bosnia and Rwanda, this involved ethnic cleansing to produce ethnically ‘pure’ political units. In Iraq today it means sabotaging the national rebuilding process, whether through indiscriminate violence, targeting economic infrastructure or sectarian killings, for instance bombings of Kurdish and Shi’ite religious festivals and tit-for-tat murders of Sunni and Shi’ite civilians. However oppressive Saddam’s regime, its institutions were a force for national integration; their disappearance has created space for an identity-based politics that aims to fragment Iraqi society along its ethnic fault lines, or simply set it on a downward spiral into anarchic warlordism on the lines of Somalia and Afghanistan. Short of violent repression, the occupying forces can do nothing to fight this trend; the only remedy is to displace it with the benefits of successful nation-building. Unfortunately, for most of the past two years ‘nation-building’ in Iraq has delivered an absence of security, basic amenities or employment, bickering politicians and a country policed by despised foreign troops.


The blame for this state of affairs rests squarely with the now-defunct CPA and the US administration. Their mistakes stemmed from a hubris that regarded the occupation’s merits as self-evident and not in need of active justification to the Iraqi people, and that saw fit to rebuild Iraq on US terms, without accountability or regard to actual conditions. A typical example was the disqualification of Ba’ath party members from public office, which disfranchised and alienated much of Iraq’s middle class. It also compromised the rebuilding process, since new institutions had to be created and new personnel trained from scratch; the fact that this was done on US models and by US contractors or government agencies only furthered perceptions that Iraq was being rebuilt as a US client state. The lack of concern by US and CPA authorities for financial accounting created a corruption-ridden political economy characteristic of ‘new wars’; the system rewards American companies and well-connected locals but has left ordinary Iraqis jobless or on third world salaries, and bears much blame for the lack of progress in repairing Iraq’s infrastructure or restoring its economic health. Perhaps most serious was the decision not to reconstitute or even pension off the old regime’s security forces, resulting in a power vacuum and giving the insurgency a valuable source of expertise. This error was compounded by failing to prioritise creation of new Iraqi police and armed forces from the outset, despite the chaos that immediately descended across the country; law enforcement and security were left to the US military, with the adverse consequences outlined above.

The only Iraqis involved in all these decisions were long-time exiles like Ahmed Chalabi, men who appeared to be US stooges and whose policy advice often proved faulty: they infamously assured their Pentagon patrons that US troops would be greeted as liberators, while Chalabi was a driving force behind the de-Ba’athification policies. The political movements and parties that emerged upon Saddam’s fall were initially given no voice, and their subsequent inclusion looked like cooptation into a hollow political process rushed through to combat the growing insurgency. Certainly the emphasis given to constitutional drafting, political horse-trading and other democratic forms while the country remained in ruins and under siege did not inspire confidence in the new regime. The CPA made no efforts to articulate a clear vision for Iraq’s future or to counter Saddam’s prewar propaganda, not to mention the inevitable postwar rumours and conspiracy theories. Iraqis were left to judge from what they could see: US officials moving into Saddam’s palaces, US companies setting up in fortified inner Baghdad, US troops establishing permanent bases around the country.

In short the Americans behaved like conquerors, with no regard for the needs or sensitivities of a population that had suffered greatly from previous US policies towards Iraq. Donald Rumsfeld’s glib response to the looting of Baghdad – ‘freedom is messy’ – was typical of the triumphalism and ideological certainty that governed the US approach to postwar management and precluded timely acknowledgement of problems, let alone responses. Such attitudes had in fact compromised the reconstruction process long before the invasion. President Bush’s decision to give the Pentagon control over postwar Iraq made the prewar planning effort hostage to the Defence Department’s civilian leadership, dominated by neoconservative ideolgoues. Planning was oriented around crisis events like WMD attacks and oil field sabotage that suited this group’s fixation with Saddam’s regime; it was diverted from broader political and security issues that they were convinced would not materealise under liberation by benign US forces. The State Department’s $5 million ‘Future of Iraq’ planning project was ignored, as were repeated warnings by US intelligence agencies of postwar armed resistance. Even within the Pentagon, planning suffered from political turf battles; officers of the Joint Staff were excluded, and when the Army’s Chief of Staff warned Congress of postwar security concerns he was stamped on by his civilian bosses. Ideological correctness trumped objective analysis. Vice-President Cheney blocked State Department appointments to occupation authorities; Cheney’s daughter was chosen over State Department career specialists to advise reconstruction czar Jay Garner; Garner himself had barely set up in Baghdad when he was replaced for opposition to the de-Ba’athification policies.


Where to now for Iraq? Coalition withdrawal is out of the question. The US withdrawal from Vietnam in the early 1970’s had few strategic consequences, either globally or regionally; Iraq by contrast occupies the heart of the most strategically significant region in the world. It is also hard to dispute Iraq’s emerging centrality to the global campaign against fundamentalist Islamic terrorism. The insurgency is not an entity but a cause, representing the use of indiscriminate violence to thwart the US and its allies. In material terms, Iraq now serves as the very sort of testing and training ground for militants that the war on terror is supposed to eradicate. The new Iraqi security forces are clearly years away from being to able to shoulder the country’s security burden by themselves. For all these reasons a complete US withdrawal is unlikely, regardless of domestic US public opinion.

Conversely, pouring in more foreign troops is not the solution. There are currently almost 160,000 Coalition troops in Iraq and yet, like Napoleon’s armies in Spain, they control nothing but the ground they stand on. Such a large and prolonged deployment is burdening the US economy, the US military and US foreign policy, to say nothing of domestic political damage to the administration. In this light the prospect of large US troop withdrawals by early 2006 (foreshadowed in a recently leaked British defence memo) is not that far fetched, especially when the apparent Taliban and al-Qaida resurgence in Afghanistan is added to the equation. What is most likely to happen is a progressive scaling down of the US presence towards a rapid reaction force, that would deal with major threats as Iraqi forces increasingly assume control.

Ultimately, Iraq’s fate lies with the new government’s ability to end the failed state conditions that allow the violence to grow. Former Interim Prime Minister Iyad Allawi said as much in a recent interview with London’s Sunday Times: “[without] national unity, the building of institutions, the economy … the country will deteriorate”. It would be comforting to believe that Iraq is now firmly on the right path, given recognition of the past two years’ mistakes and the presumable preference of most Iraqis – after decades of Saddam’s rule, the Iran-Iraq war, the First Gulf War, UN sanctions, US invasion and finally the insurgency – for national reconstruction over the continued strife and uncertainty entailed by the alternatives. But the facts do not bear this out. Trust in the new government is being eroded by growing evidence of human rights abuses by its security forces and of an interior ministry fast becoming a facsimile of Saddam’s, with paramilitary units, extra-judicial executions and an alleged secret network of torture centres across the country. Shi’ite domination of the new security forces makes them vulnerable to abuse as a tool of sectarian violence, with elite units like the Wolf Brigade already accused of waging a covert war against the Sunni community. The inability to disarm sectarian militias such as the Shi’ite Badr Brigade (the armed wing of Iraq’s largest political party) leaves them free to fight ‘insurgents’ according to their own interpretation and provoke response in kind; Zarqawi’s organisation has reportedly set up a special division solely charged with eradicating the Badr Brigade. The mutually hostile Kurdish factions in the north remain independent of Baghdad, and there have long been reports of ‘soft’ ethnic cleansing in areas under their control.

Economically the picture is not much brighter. Iraq’s GDP continues to shrink, with the oil sector – now representing 95% of national income – struggling under the weight of sabotage, mismanagement and the corruption. As noted above, corruption has become endemic in post-Saddam Iraq, thriving on a lack of adequate controls; the CPA’s own auditor found it unable to account for $8.8 billion handed over to Iraq’s Interim Government, while there is still no system for monitoring the army of US contractors absorbing reconstruction funds. The domination of Iraq’s economy by American companies sucks money out of the country and has made it impossible to dent the unemployment rate, which is now at 50% and rising. Violence and its accompanying security costs deter foreign investment. Two years on from Saddam’s overthrow one in three Iraqis is malnourished, while one in six survives on a food rationing system. Most worrying is the US failure to deliver the promised sums for Iraq’s reconstruction, with Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice recently confirming that of the $18.6 billion voted by Congress only $7 billion has been spent.

Iraq’s new government has come into existence saddled with too many problems to overcome with the resources at hand. Its only hope is adequate support from its US patron, not just in military terms but comprehensively. Unfortunately it seems that the Bush administration, having invaded Iraq with no plan for winning the peace, has failed to develop one in the two years since. Allawi bluntly told the Sunday Times that “the Americans have no vision and no clear policy on how to go about in Iraq”, an extraordinary comment from a man in his position and a warning about how serious the situation is. With Baghdad now under continuous siege from suicide bombings and Iraqi politicians openly speaking about civil war, it seems that Colin Powell’s famous warning to the President way back before this all began – ‘if you break it, you own it’ – has come home to roost.

Blastoff to the blogosphere

Who reads the welcome post? Presumably someone curious about the name of the blog. It makes less sense to me each time I think about it, but suffice to say it’s an attempt to capture the range of interests which I’ll be indulging here. Feel free to post if you happen to share some of them, or are eccentric enough to match them all (if the blog’s title means anything to you, you’re halfway there). I’d say feel free to read, but I can’t stop people doing that.

This page will hopefully see, inter alia, international affairs, domestic politics, book and film reviews, 40K and Tolkien speals, historical speculations, gems and dross of Chinese culture, Warcraft3 tactical debates and tracts of homespun fiction (the writer in me has been doing poorly since I arrived at law school, but he’s not quite dead yet). If I stick up more history than the rest, it’s because I get less chance to talk about it.