Jordan’s Frustration with the Middle East Peace Process

By Nigel Ashton

In a widely quoted interview with The Times last May King Abdullah of Jordan warned that ‘if we delay our peace negotiations then there is going to be another conflict between Arabs or Muslims and Israel in the next 12-18 months’. 12 of the 18 months are now up and Israeli-Palestinian negotiations seem further away than ever from even beginning, never mind reaching, fruition. If King Abdullah’s frustrations were great a year ago, they have only increased in the course of the past month. The recent collapse of Palestinian-Israeli proximity talks before they had even begun, coupled with the intransigence of the Netanyahu government on the issue of settlement-building, give little reason to believe that the next six months will bring significant progress.

It is no surprise, then, that the tensions in US-Israeli relations which have made headlines in recent weeks have been mirrored in a further worsening of the already bad bilateral relationship between Israel and Jordan. In an interview with the Wall Street Journal given just before his recent trip to the US, King Abdullah was frank about the troubled nature of the relationship.

The background in personal relations between Abdullah and Netanyahu was unpromising from the outset. The first three months of Abdullah’s reign in 1999, after the death of his father Hussein, were a period of strained relations with the outgoing first Netanyahu government. Despite this, when Netanyahu returned to office in 2009, Abdullah claimed to have given him the benefit of the doubt, waiting to judge him on his actions in office second time round. ‘I was extremely optimistic by the vision he had for peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians and the Israelis and the Arabs.’

Albeit that this comment may have significantly exaggerated the true extent of the King’s hopes for the new government, the experience of the past 12 months has been one of unrelieved frustration. ‘Everything I've seen on the ground has made me extremely sceptical, and I'm probably one of the more optimistic people you will meet in this part of the world’ Abdullah told the Wall Street Journal. Abdullah’s judgement was that relations with Israel are now at their lowest ebb since the signature of the peace treaty in 1994.

Sceptics might question why this should matter to Israel. After all, despite the frustrations expressed by the Jordanian monarch, there is no prospect of Jordan reneging on its peace treaty with Israel. Nor does Jordan have the power to harm Israel either economically or politically. But, there are two reasons why the dire state of bilateral relations should matter to Israel.

Firstly, if a peace process is to be initiated before the window of opportunity closes for a two state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it will likely need a constructive role on the part of Jordan. Although Jordanian officials from the King down never tire of underlining that there is no Jordanian solution to the Palestinian question, any Palestinian state created through negotiations with Israel would also depend on close relations with Jordan. Precisely what political structure might govern this relationship could be a matter for future discussion.

King Abdullah implied as much in an interview which he gave to Fareed Zakaria at the end of January during the Davos economic summit. Although he denied for the umpteenth time that there was any ‘Jordanian option’ which might substitute for a peace deal negotiated directly between Israel and the Palestinians, Abdullah implicitly left open in his remarks what might happen after the creation of a Palestinian state. He did not explicitly rule out some form of future association with Jordan if a Palestinian state were created.

Secondly, as Abdullah suggested in his interview with The Times last May, Jordan can play a constructive role in helping to marshal broader support for an Israeli-Palestinian solution. This role might be particularly important given the centrality of the question of the future status of Jerusalem to these negotiations. As Abdullah put it, what could be on offer would be not just a two-state solution to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, but a ‘57 state solution’ whereby the entire Muslim world would recognise the Jewish state as part of the peace deal.

These considerations might seem distant and utopian to an Israeli government overwhelmingly preoccupied with the present. But, with the projected shifts in the demographic balance between Arab and Jew in Israel and the occupied territories, together with the likely spread of weapons of mass destruction in the region, the status quo is inherently unstable.

The clock is still ticking down towards Abdullah’s deadline.

Next Week: Iran: Who has the power?

Shifting Sands is the blog of the Middle East International Affairs Programme at LSE IDEAS, analysing current events in the Middle East and contributing to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions.

Amber Holewinski, Editor

Narrow Options: Mexican Policy Responses to Illegal Immigration

There has been official outrage in Mexico regarding a new Arizona state law designed to discourage illegal immigration. As well as arresting day labours in the state who solicit work, police departments may be sued for failing to enforce the law. Mexican president Felipe Calderon has claimed that immigration is a social and economic phenomenon and that to discourage it will only lead to intolerance and discrimination.

One response to the new law has been a suggestion by Mexicans to boycott Arizonan goods and services. It is difficult to see how this might be achieved for three reasons. First, although Arizona could be hit hard, since Mexico is the destination for one-third of its exports, it is unclear how Mexican consumers would be able to identify such products in the absence of any specific labelling related to its state of origin. Second, any action taken officially would probably be in breach of Mexico’s membership of NAFTA. Third, any attempts to foster Mexican action within Arizona itself would only have a limited effect: Mexican immigrants’ purchasing power constitutes around 3%.

Anger against Arizona’s action also obscures current trends in illegal immigration and Mexico’s own culpability in the process. First, there is evidence that the number of illegal immigrants has declined: last year the Center for Immigration Studies reported that, since 2007, the number fell even as legal immigration remained steady. The main reason for this was not the economic recession (although that did have an effect from 2008) but rather stronger enforcement measures, especially after a failed legal amnesty for illegal immigrants in summer 2007.

Second, Mexico’s own actions to constrain illegal immigration have been relatively limited. On one hand its economy and political leaders have proved incapable of developing a sufficient number of new jobs to discourage those from making the journey north. Since the 1980s Mexican governments have been largely committed to free market principles, relying on the private sector rather than the state to generate employment. The result has been that the most dynamic sector of the Mexican economy has been in the low-wage manufacturing north of the country. While this has incorporated some of the labour force, it has not been enough on its own.

On the other hand, Mexico has not been especially forceful in restraining illegal immigration, either by its own nationals or those of third countries which use its territory as a transit point. Estimates suggest that Mexicans make up around 60% of illegal immigrants, with Central Americans accounting for 11% and South Americans 8%. Not only are these figures considered to be an undercount, but most are likely to have crossed using the US-Mexico border. For many poor Central and South Americans the journey is made relatively easier by the porous nature of Mexico’s frontier with its southern neighbours.

Ultimately then, how both American and Mexican authorities might resolve the issue of illegal immigration will continue to be difficult, whether it be in favour of greater enforcement or eventual legalisation. In the case of the US a shift away from enforcement to a legal amnesty may not necessarily reduce illegal immigration; the Center for Immigration Studies’ report notes there was actually an increase in numbers entering the US in the period prior to the last attempt in 2007 (although this also coincided with a period of economic growth during the first half of the 2000s).

For Mexico, any attempt to achieve greater control in preventing both their citizens and those of other countries crossing the Rio Grande could undermine migrants’ human rights (i.e. freedom to travel, arrest on suspicion). At the same time, the scope of the Mexican public security apparatus has remains both weak and compromised as an effective tool; this is becoming increasingly apparent in the context of increasing narco-related violence and permeation of the political and law enforcement system – and prompting some sections of American opinion to adopt an almost hysterical concern about Mexico as a ‘failed state’.

Guy Burton is a research associate for the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE Ideas Centre.

Conflicting Perspectives on Cuban Civil Society

The news from Cuba that the Women in White – six women who are the wives and mothers of men currently in prison on the island for their political activities – were harassed by pro-government supporters prompts an evaluation of Cuban civil society. In particular the event highlights two contrasting visions of Cuba, which are exacerbated by external factors. This is especially apparent in the choice of language used in the BBC report and especially the term ‘political prisoner’, which reveals the highly polarised and uncertain nature of the internal social dynamics underpinning Cuba.

Part of the difficulty may be found in different conceptions of ‘civil society’. For US policymakers and Cuban-American groups mainly based in Florida, civil society is seen as an independent and voluntary public sphere, separate from the state. By contrast, since the 1990s the official Cuban position on civil society is that it has a complementary rather than competitive or confrontational role with the state. The result is that Cuba’s leadership is inclined to label any action that challenges the state as ‘subversive’ while Washington and its Cuban-American allies consider it to be ‘pro-democracy’.

But as the experience of the Women in White shows, along with the arrest and prison sentences imposed on various individuals between 2003 and 2005, the official Cuban position is not one that is shared across society. And even efforts to untangle these differences by scholars highlight continuing difficulties over both the notion of Cuban civil society and its future direction as well. Perhaps the most useful effort in recent years is a volume edited by Alexander Gray and Antoni Kapci, The Changing Dynamic of Cuban Civil Society (University Press of Florida, 2008), on which a number of reviews have been written and which illustrate the continuing confusion and disagreement about the topic.

Most apparent is the difference of opinion as to whether the Cuban leadership has been unified or not over its approach to civil society. New York University’s Noelle Stout notes that during the 1990s there was a debate by Cuban academics that took place in the state media about the concept while in C. Maria Keet’s view the issue was settled by Raul Castro’s 1996 statement to the Fifth Congress of the Cuban Communist Party.

That such differences exist underlies the course that Cuban civil society has taken since the 1990s. Indeed, in a separate article, Alexander Gray notes two contradictory paths that it has gone downm between the state-directed ‘Big Seven’ on one hand and independent NGOs on the other.

The Big Seven are the traditional mass organisations (revolutionary committees, workers, small cultivators, youth, school students, university students and women) that have been the main vehicles for public participation since the early period of the Revolution. As well as being close to the state, they are dominant actors in their sector, owing to official unwillingness to extend similar and legal legitimacy to other, independent mass-based movements and organisations. As a result In addition, they tend to be largely top-down in their orientation – although there have been occasions where they have campaigned against government policy, for example by the official workers’ union in 1994 over a national income tax.

From the early- to mid-1990s though, the role of the Big Seven has been challenged by a growing number of independent NGOs. The economic crisis of the Special Period in the early- to mid-1990s is seen as ‘Year Zero’ for the emergence of such actors, their grassroots orientation and foreign funding presenting a considerable challenge to the Cuban authorities. As a result the leadership introduced strict forms of control of NGOs: the state retained a central role by authorising the choice of projects undertaken by domestic NGOs and requiring that foreign NGOs (with funds and technical expertise) both partner with Cuban NGOs and not undertake independent activities. This approach was justified on both ideological and practical grounds. At the same time the economic crisis and resulting scarcity encouraged central planning of NGO activity.

The rise of grassroots organisations and foreign involvement have proved problematic in other was as well. Locally, the formation of neighbourhood associations to tackle problems like rubbish collection came up against bureaucrats who feared that such decentralised activities would lead to growing inequalities. Internationally, tensions have emerged between the Cuban state and foreign NGOs who differ over the former’s ‘shared ideology’ and the latter’s ‘shared objectives’.

The obstruction that such groups have faced is being felt elsewhere. The past decade has seen an economic revival on the island and a growing political resurgence for the Cuban revolution, especially among left of centre social movements and governments elsewhere in the region. One result of this has been to strengthen the hand of the Cuban government in its dealings those groups that it regards with suspicion.

In sum then, what these different experiences and ideological and historical course reveal is the extent to which Cuban society is much more complicated than the image presented by the present stand-off between the Women in White and pro-government supporters reveal. Cuban society – and therefore its politics – is undergoing a significant process of development and change, for which the outcome seems far from certain.

Guy Burton is a research associate for the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE Ideas Centre.

Anglo-American Relations: An Immensely Special Relationship

A disappointing election debate last night from a foreign policy perspective.

What were the big questions on which hardly anything was said:
1. The Iraq War
2. British authorities' complicity in torture of terror suspects in US detention facilities
3. The timetable for withdrawal of British troops from Afghanistan or the illegitimate character of the Karzai regime
4. The attitude to the emergence of China as a global power.

Nick Clegg stood out as the only candidate opposed to the next generation of Trident nuclear missile systems and both David cameron and Gordon Brown told him to "get real": New Labour has travelled very far since the unilateral disarmament days of the early 1980s. They don't even listen to elements of the UK military establishment on this matter, raising the spectre of a nuclear-armed Iran (no evidence advanced on that matter, of course) and North Korea.

USBlog applauds Clegg on taking that stand and not caving in to extreme pressure, though he did justify scrapping Trident on the grounds that Obama was also decommissioning large numbers of US nuclear missiles (ironic really given what he said later in the debate). Cameron repeated the usual guff about Trident being Britain's "independent" nuclear deterrent, although he knows full well that the United States controls the "trigger" and targetting of Trident.

It was also Nick Clegg who declared that Britain should not be at America's "beck and call" on all matters, although qualified his comment by preceding it with the usual line: the UK's alliance with America is "an immensely special relationship" - though he did not define the characteristics that make it "special". As a recent book by Durham's John Dumbrell argues, America has quite a few "special relationships".

Yet, Brown (quite gratuitously) accused Clegg of being "anti-American". On that issue, USBlog may comment later.

But let's be clear: all three parties are for continued war in Afghanistan; are likely to go for more interventions abroad in the global war on terror; and will spend whatever it takes to finance military operations. Indeed, Gordon Brown emphasised that Somalia and Yemen are already in Britain's (and America's) sights.

Why? Because "Britain is a force for good in the world", according to Nick Clegg last night, the MoD, and the other liberal and conservative interventionists that dominate debate and decision-making. There are monsters to destroy out there and Britain will do its bit.

"IT CAN BE DIFFERENT," according to Nick Clegg: not on last night's performance.

3 parties, one view!

Inderjeet Parmar is Professor of Government at the University of Manchester and Vice Chair of the British International Studies Association.  This post first appeared at his excellent US Blog

Sino-Ecuadorian Oil Relations: A Microcosm for the Region?

Ecuador’s president, Rafael Correa, has recently announced that he is prepared to introduce legislation that would change the status of private and foreign oil firms and turn them into service providers. The change would mean the takeover of these companies’ assets and greater revenue for the government. Correa’s move reflects broader pressures on his government and trends on the wider regional oil market – a subject that was covered in a recent publication by the LSE Ideas Centre.

Correa’s announcement highlights his urgency for money in the short-term. On one hand, his left-wing government has been actively redistributive, its social programmes heavily reliant on the foreign revenue generated by Ecuador’s oil exports. As one of Latin America’s more oil-dependent economies though, the country has suffered from low oil prices, limited technical and productive capacity and slow export growth. These constraints are compounded by the country’s isolation from international capital markets following Correa’s $3.2bn bond default in 2008.

On the other hand, it would seem that Correa is relatively well-placed to impose his demands. As George Philip pointed out in our recent LSE Ideas Centre report, Powering Up: Latin America’s Energy Challenges, growing domestic demand and the de-concentration of the international oil market has meant that governments are in a relatively stronger position vis-à-vis private oil companies. Indeed, Correa had managed to prevent private and foreign firms forming a united front against him by threatening a 99% windfall tax on profits of those that seek concessionaire status (i.e. which would provide them with some legal claim over the oil reserves). He is also helped by a referendum-backed constitution last year which gives the government greater authority over strategic areas, including the oil and mining sectors.

However, much uncertainty remains. As Tanya Harmer and I noted in our introduction to Powering Up, the wider Latin American energy sector presents not just opportunities, but challenges as well. This is especially the case when considering which firms and whose interests may be affected by Correa’s plan and their wider political implications. So far the firms at most risk from the law change are those owned by the Italians, Brazilians, Spanish/Argentines and Chinese.

The presence of the Chinese consortium, Andes Petroleum, in this group is notable since it provides a microcosm of that country’s engagement in Ecuador in particular and Latin America more generally. First, the bulk of Chinese investment (around $500bn in 2004) is concentrated in the oil sector which means that the Chinese stand to lose a great deal if the legislative change goes ahead. This would exacerbate differences between the two countries following Ecuador’s decision to break off negotiations for a $2bn hydroelectric power plant after the Chinese Eximbank demanded that the Ecuadoran Central Bank put its assets up as collateral for the loan.

Second, the Chinese have been at great pains to expand access to resources, not just in Ecuador but Latin America more generally. Earlier this month President Hugo Chávez announced that China was to loan Venezuela $20bn, which was seen as a step to securing future oil supplies. This followed previous Chinese investment in the Brazilian and Venezuelan state oil companies of $10bn and $4bn respectively last year.

Third, focus on the growing Chinese presence in the region has too often been on the extent to which it presents a challenge to the other hegemonic power in the region, the US, often being portrayed as a zero-sum game between two. In so doing it overlooks the extent to which both global powers have a common interest in ensuring regional peace and political stability so that their respective investments are secured. Furthermore, it largely disregards the role that Latin American actors have to play. Indeed, as the Inter-American Development Bank pointed out in its 2006 report, The Emergence of China, the Chinese economy presents several different scenarios: as a success story and source of policy lessons; as a market; as a partner; and as a competitor to Latin Americans’ own goods and services (pages xxvii-xxx). That Latin America – and Ecuador – has such a mixed relationship with China in its energy sector only demonstrates another key observation that we noted in our report: that although there has been a shift towards greater state involvement, there is no certain outcome to this process.

Guy Burton is a research associate on the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE Ideas Centre and the guest editor of the programme’s recent report Powering Up: Latin America’s Energy Challenges.

What is the current relationship between al Qaeda and the Taliban?

By Juha Saarinen

Recent statements regarding a growing rift between al-Qaeda and Taliban by Omar bin Laden, son of Osama bin Laden, and Brigadier Sultan Amir Tarar, retired Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) agency officer, have brought into light the fundamental problems facing the relationship of the two Islamist movements.

Emerging rifts

Two important developments occurred recently. First, reports have emerged that Taliban militants in the Pakistani border region are refusing to collaborate with al-Qaeda fighters, by not providing shelter or assistance even in return for payment. As a result, al-Qaeda fighters are being increasingly excluded from local communities near the Afghanistan-Pakistan border which previously functioned as their sanctuary.

Second, there exists an increasing “online rift” between Hanafi “nationalist” Taliban and Salafi “universalist” al-Qaeda, which started when Mullah Omar emphasized the nationalist character of Taliban in a statement for Eid al-Fitr in September 2009, drawing aggressive criticism from Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi, one of the most influential living Salafi jihadi ideologues. This debate has since set the online jihadi communities ablaze. In late 2006, early 2007, online discord over Iraq “foreshadowed the dramatic split in the Iraqi insurgency in which key insurgency factions flipped to the U.S. side and formed the backbone of the Awakenings/ Sons of Iraq.”

These two occurrences are reflected in a recent interview of Omar bin Laden, who stated “Although Al-Qaeda and the Taliban organizations band together when necessary, they do not love one another.” Indeed, it seems the relationship between al-Qaeda and Taliban, outside the personal bond between Mullah Omar and Osama bin Laden, is largely strategic. However, recent Taliban overtures might well suggest the relationship is strained, and as the strategic importance of the relationship declines, ideological differences are becoming pivotal.

An “ally” on the wane

In its quest to restore its presence in Afghanistan, al-Qaeda has failed to make considerable strides and is on the wane while the Taliban insurgency is gaining momentum. According to U.S. intelligence officials, al-Qaeda has approximately a hundred fighters in Afghanistan, and its financial situation is dire. It seems to have lost the capability to launch large-scale coordinated attacks, and relies on Taliban for operational support. Although it retains contacts with insurgents and insurgency groups, its role in the insurgency is increasingly being questioned.

Indeed, al-Qaeda’s strategic utility to Taliban is diminishing, perhaps even to the point where Mullah Omar is contemplating severing ties with al-Qaeda, as suggested by his former mentor and retired ISI officer Tarar in late January 2010. Although such as split is highly improbable in the short term, there has been a notable shift in Taliban’s strategic communication following Mullah Omar’s statement in September 2009, and it now seeks to distance itself from al-Qaeda. Indeed, Taliban is focusing on moderating its image as part of its campaign to retake power in Afghanistan and its relationship with al-Qaeda presents a potential liability.

External pressure

While al-Qaeda’s presence in Afghanistan is relatively marginal, its presence in Pakistan is considerably larger. As a result of Taliban’s reassessment of its ties with al-Qaeda, it has drawn closer to other militant groups in Pakistan's tribal belt, like the Haqqani Network, and groups trying to overthrow the Pakistani government.

Facing a growing insurgency back home and al-Qaeda’s ambitions in Pakistan, Islamabad drew its own conclusions. At this point, it is uncertain whether the recent arrests of al-Qaeda operatives and senior Taliban leadership in Pakistan are a result of a significant policy reversal. However, it is likely to signal to Taliban that its relationship with al-Qaeda is not viewed positively by Islamabad, and it has its repercussions. Certainly, al-Qaeda’s operations in Pakistan complicate the Taliban’s strategic calculus, and will have repercussions to be mapped out in the coming months.

Differing opinions

Naturally, there are different views on the situation. The Obama administration still underlines the threat al-Qaeda presents in Afghanistan, and some regard the possibility of a split between al-Qaeda and Taliban, as speculated by Tarar, as little more than wishful thinking.

Certainly, there is very little evidence to suggest that Mullah Omar prefers cutting ties with bin Laden and other Al Qaeda leaders. Likewise, a complete rupture remains unlikely, as al-Qaeda militants have formed social connections in the region during their stay, and the Pashtunwali demands unfailing hospitality towards guests. However, even Taliban hospitality has its limits, and the idiosyncratic bond between Mullah Omar and Osama is not beyond reconsideration.

Nevertheless, al-Qaeda has been important to Taliban in the past, and there is little benefit in ostracising them in the current strategic situation. Antagonising al-Qaeda would additionally eschew Taliban’s politico-religious legitimacy, which it can ill afford. However, al-Qaeda needs to continually prove its worth, providing contacts in the Gulf, equipment, funds, bomb expertise and propaganda advice. As long as its benefits are higher than the costs in Taliban’s strategic calculus, there are limits to how far Taliban can distance itself from al-Qaeda.

Prospects

While al-Qaeda and Taliban have a complex relationship that for now seems troubled, a split, at least in the current situation, is highly improbable. While Taliban has made overtures implying the ideological and strategic frictions have taken their toll on the relationship, they still have only little to achieve by ostracizing or antagonising al-Qaeda, and more to lose.

The role of Pakistan however, will be crucial in the coming months, and should the power balance in the region change, Taliban might find itself in a position where strategic interests trump ideological and idiosyncratic bonds. Indeed, common strategic interests, however limited they may be, are a sine qua non for the relationship. Otherwise ideological differences would no doubt prevail, and al-Qaeda could find itself marginalised.

Whether the recent refusal of the Taliban militants to assist al-Qaeda fighters is a result of a policy change in the Taliban leadership or an unsanctioned local development is unclear, but all the same signals troubled times for the relationship.

Juha Saarinen holds a Master of Letters in Middle Eastern and Central Asian Studies from the University of St. Andrews, and he currently studies at LSE for a Master of Science in International Relations, with a research focus on Strategic Studies and Political Violence in the Middle East.

Next Week: Jordan’s Frustration with the Middle East Peace Process

Shifting Sands is the blog of the Middle East International Affairs Programme at LSE IDEAS, analysing current events in the Middle East and contributing to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions.

Amber Holewinski, Editor

The Revolution in Military Affairs and the Changing Nature of Warfare in the Middle East

The Revolution in Military Affairs and the Changing Nature of Warfare in the Middle East

By Dina Rezk

As a range of new and fantastic allied weapons systems descended upon Iraq’s desert terrain in 1991 with unprecedented precision, speed and technological prowess, militarists all over the Western world hailed the advent of a ‘revolution in military affairs’ (RMA). The combination of technology and information dominance would ensure that modern war would be quick and easy, with minimal casualties on both sides. As the end of the Cold War brought the Middle East and Third World to the centre stage of international conflict, the Western world was consoled by a futuristic vision of efficient and sanitised battles; computer-game style warfare.

Almost two decades on, following high-tech military escapades in Afghanistan, Somalia, Kosovo and Iraq, which have been neither clean nor efficient, this so called ‘revolution’ in military affairs raised a plethora of questions regarding the nature of change, its implications on the battlefield and its effects on international relations and strategic warfare more generally, particularly in the Middle East where the locus of Western power has been consistently and vehemently challenged.

Have we been fighting faster and cleaner battles in distant lands with the help of superior technology and information? In a military sense, there have certainly been unprecedented advances. The first Gulf War in 1991 saw the use of Global Positioning Systems (GPS) and thermal night vision devices to allow coalition forces to exploit the desert terrain with twenty-four hour a day freedom of manoeuvre in all weather conditions. ‘Operation Desert Storm’ consisted of 43 days of strategic air attacks with precision bombing to gain air superiority and disrupt Iraqi command and control. It was the first time in the history of the British army that they knew where they were during a desert battle.

During the 18-hour firefight on 3-4 October 1993 in Mogadishu, Somalia provided another good case study of the use of real-time imagery under actual battle conditions. Equipped with the latest in portable tactical earpieces and handheld GPS systems, the American army’s Delta Force and Rangers fought under the observation of Orion spy-planes and Recce helicopters relaying live, infra-red video images back to command headquarters. Responding to Somalian retaliation in a heavily populated region of Mogadishu, commanders used their unprecedented situational awareness to direct a convoy to a crash site.

And yet we have several examples which show the limits of the RMA’s military achievements. Afghanistan aptly demonstrates the extent to which the Taliban and al-Qaeda were able to outsmart, avoid and adapt to US precision firepower. Similarly in 1999, Serbian Air Defence Operators did little more than turn their radars off to deny NATO aircraft the signals they needed to locate and destroy them. There has also been the problem of friendly fire, not surprisingly more of an occupational hazard now that commanders have their fingers on the trigger at such a great distance from the battlefield.

At a strategic level in the most recent invasion of Iraq (‘Operation Iraqi Freedom’) the 1st Marine Division raised the critical distinction between an awareness of an enemy’s capability, where high tech intelligence devices certainly can and do play a role, and the more complex need to divine the intentions of enemy commanders. The latter requires a distinctly old-fashioned, human dimension which has been somewhat eluded by the new, shiny glamour of the RMA. In the case of Operation Iraqi Freedom, this proved a critical failing since more often than not plans were based on or keyed into specific enemy responses. This is all the more important when the cultural framework within which your enemy is operating is fundamentally different to your own: superimposing Western values to counterparts in the Middle East has consistently led to critical predictive failures in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Understanding the way your enemy thinks and how they are likely to react reveals itself as a problematic shortcoming of the RMA thus far and shows that certainly at a strategic level, it has some progress yet to make.

Taking the strategic point a step further, the numerous wars of the past two decades seem to demonstrate that the long-term vision and strategy that was once demanded to justify war has been subdued by the reassurance that victory will be certain and casualties few. Whilst precision firepower and high-tech intelligence certainly makes the job of military invasion easier, it has come as an unpleasant realisation to the West that in order to lay claim to political victory, the victor must confront the defeated face to face. It is this victory that the US has yet to achieve most notably in Iraq and Afghanistan. That an invading and conquering army must now to be succeeded by an occupation force of an equal or larger size is perhaps the most revolutionary aspect of this new ‘Western’ way of war.

The more worrying question of course, is what happens when the RMA catches up with the Middle East. Some argue that the military successes of the RMA derive from the fact that the West has only flexed its military muscles in less developed parts of the world where its strength and superiority is clearly marked. What will a war look like when both sides have stealth technology and precision cruise missiles? In the meantime, (true to the history of warfare and the many that came before them) guerrillas, insurgents and terrorists have been able to identify the weaknesses of the high-tech Western world and capitalise on them. So far they have been unnervingly successful, as 9/11 poignantly illustrated. It is not insignificant that the development and growth of international terrorism has correlated with the eruption and exercise of the RMA in the Middle East and Third World. The past two decades have shown that despite the hopes of military propagandists, Western military strength and superiority is neither secure, nor does it guarantee political power. In the same way, political power in the modern world no longer depends on military strength. It is this redefined relationship between politics and warfare that the international community must now contend with.

Dina Rezk is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Cambridge.

Next Week: Afghanistan: What is the current relationship between al Qaeda and the Taliban?

Shifting Sands is the blog of the Middle East International Affairs Programme at LSE IDEAS, analysing current events in the Middle East and contributing to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions.

Amber Holewinski, Editor

Turmoil in Poland.

On the morning of 10 April a Polish plane carrying the Polish President and a high ranking team of politicians and military men, due to land in Smolensk, crashed killing all those on board.  The event marks the end of an estrangement between Poland and Russia which can be traced to the outbreak of the Second World War.  It also might become the beginning of what most hope will be a period of constructive co-existence which will be marked by realpolitik rather than nationalist posturing.

On 1 September last year when the Poles commemorated the anniversary of the beginning of the war they had hoped that Russia would finally make an apology for the deaths of thousands of Poles killed by the NKVD during the war.  This the Russian leadership was not prepared to do and instead hid behind the declaration that Poles – like the Russians – were victims of Stalinism.  It was therefore a source of surprise when on 7 April when Tusk the Polish Prime Minister went to the Katyn to commemorate the death of Polish officers,  Prime Minister Putin finally acknowledged the Soviet responsibility for the crime and apologised to the Poles unreservedly.  The death of President Lech Kaczyński might well have set the clock back.  But the opposite has happened.  Putin and Tusk were photographed standing at the site of the crash, united in grief and horror at the enormity of the tragedy.  And contained in that gesture is the full meaning of the transformation that is taking place in Polish-Russian relations, a transformation that has implications for European and US policies towards Russia and Poland. Poland has benefitted in recent years from the estrangement between the West and Russia, but these proved to be transient victories.  Likewise it has always been obvious that for Russia to become a full partner in the international community, the Polish issue which carried emotional, even if not always political weight, had to be resolved.  By responding sensitively and honestly to the tragedy Putin has made it possible for the present Polish government to declare that all previous misunderstandings have been resolved.

The crash has created a potentially dangerous vacuum in the Polish political landscape.  President Kaczyński was accompanied by most of the leadership and key ideologues of the opposition PiS party.  On the aeroplane were also the presidential candidates of the SLD left wing party and the PSL peasant party.  The date of the forthcoming presidential elections was to be announced soon and a mood of pre-election rivalry had dominated recent political debates. The governor of the national bank and the head of the Institute of National Memory, where the secret service files have been deposited, both closely connected with Kaczyński, died with him in the crash. The presidential elections have now to take place by 20 June but only the candidate of the ruling PO party Bronisław Komorowski is there to stand.  PiS is paralysed by the tragedy, but so are the SLD and the peasant parties.  How will the ruling party behave?  Will the electorate trust them to guide the nation through the period when PO politicians are likely to take over most decision making roles? At stake is not merely the hitherto healthy democratic system in Poland but the newly forged Polish-Russian reconciliation.  Once the period of official mourning comes to an end there will be a need to ensure that no party exploits anti-Russian sentiments to steal a march on the ruling party.  So far Russian politicians and the media have been helpful in creating that necessary mood of thoughtful contemplation. Polish leaders led by Prime Minister Tusk have likewise remained dignified and appreciative of all the aid given by Russian experts investigating the causes of the crash. Polish media have been determined not to allow speculation to take the debate in the direction where anti-Russian sentiments could be fanned. It is difficult not to conclude that both sides know that they are being observed by the European and US governments which would not support another round of squabbles.

Dr Anita Prazmowska is Professor of International History at the London School of Economics.

Red Monday - The Roots of Thailand's Unrest

The Red Shirts started this protest by pouring their own blood under the gates of parliament as a symbolic move. This weekend, their blood spilt for real as 17 protestors and four policemen were killed. On Monday the Red Shirts carried empty, red-coloured coffins through Bangkok.

The protestors who have filled Bangkok’s streets in recent weeks are the popular face of the supporters of the exiled previous prime minister, Thaksin Shinawatra. They are the rural farmers from Thailand’s north and northeast who feel that the current government of Thailand has treated Thaksin unfairly, and that the majority of Thailand’s farmers and rural poor are not being listened to in Bangkok.

They certainly have a point. In Thailand’s last general election, the party supported by Thaksin and the Red Shirts swept to power with a majority. But this party was found guilty of vote-buying and electoral offences, and was then disbanded. In the resulting horse-trading between different parties in Thailand’s parliament, the new ruling coalition was not the one supported by the electoral majority.

Yet this problem cannot be resolved easily through a new general election. The problem is that Thailand’s electoral politics are dominated by the immense wealth of Thaksin Shinawatra, who has the financial musclepower to influence elections and fund campaigns even though he is now exiled from Thailand because of corruption and abusing his power when in office. Thailand is in the unprecedented position of having its politics influenced by someone who would be imprisoned if he returned to Thailand, but whom the current government has been unable to muzzle.

It is certainly ironic that the Red Shirts are composed of Thailand’s poorest people, yet are supported by, one of their most notorious tycoons. Thaksin swept to power in 2001 on the back of a slick political campaign and a new style of politics that presented an alternative to the decades of Thai rule from the army and allies of Bangkok’s upper classes.

Thaksin was unusually rich. He had made his fortune on the back of a state-allocated monopoly on mobile phones and telecommunications during the 1980s and 1990s. He also had a popular touch. He was from northern Thailand. He launched Thailand’s first satellite. He went on to own Manchester City football club. When prime minister, he befriended the rural voters by allocating cheap credit to villages, as well as Thailand’s first universal and cheap healthcare.

But Thaksin also misused his power in office, and this allowed his enemies to dispose of him. Thaksin clumsily handled an anti-drugs campaign during the early 2000s that led to some 4,000 people – many of them innocent – being shot by police. His leadership stoked up tension between Muslims and Buddhists in Thailand’s far south. He also used his influence to increase his family’s wealth many times when he was prime minister. Most notoriously, he sold his own Shin Corporation to the rival Singaporeans in 2006, avoiding paying tax, and inciting resentment from the public. He was replaced in a military coup in late 2006 amidst rumours of him trying to influence the Royal Family, and was later convicted of being involved in a fraudulent property deal on behalf of his then wife, and sentenced to two years in jail.

Thaksin, however, did not go away, and he continued to wield influence from abroad. The 2007 general elections were won by a party that was funded by, and openly supportive of, Thaksin. When this party was disbanded for electoral malpractice in 2008, his Red Shirts then stormed political meetings in early 2009, and again in recent weeks. The Thai government’s decision to freeze 1.4bn dollars of his assets earlier this year might have been a further incentive.

But what are the alternatives? If Thailand holds another general election, it is likely that the Thaksin-supported parties will win again. Will they then pardon Thaksin and let him return?

Thaksin’s enemies are determined to prevent this outcome. The Army, in particular, were behind the coup that displaced Thaksin in 2006, and it is unlikely that they will act in a way to destabilize the current government. But there is a need to build trust in general elections to achieve two currently unachievable things: representing Thailand’s rural farmers, and excluding the influence of the exiled Thaksin.

But returning to elections will also increase the chance of unrest from Thaksin’s other opponents – the so-called Yellow Shirts – who adopt a more traditionalist, middle-class, and royalist position than the Reds. The Yellow Shirts held the country to ransom in 2008 by occupying Bangkok’s airports and surrounding parliament.

Violent events like these show how little trust the Thai people place in established forms of democracy such as elections and parliament. But on a wider level it also shows an important transition in Thailand from the age when military governments ruled with a King who was respected by all the population. The King is now 81 and Thailand is a much more complex and varied society. Stable and strong government requires elections to be representative and clean. The longer-term solution is building trust in general elections. In the short term, however, more violence seems likely.



Dr Tim Forsyth is Reader in Environment and Development at the Development Studies Institute (DESTIN) at LSE and board member of LSE IDEAS Southeast Asia International Affairs Programme.

US-Cuban Relations: Prospects for Improvement?

Hilary Clinton’s recent comments about the Cuban leadership highlights the extent to which the prospect of an improvement in relations between the two countries has largely evaporated. Washington seems determined to link the removal of the trade embargo with human rights on the island while Havana, for its part, denounces American hypocrisy and attempts to subvert the achievements of the Revolution.

That the state of US-Cuban relations has reached this rather predictable point followed arguably unrealistically high expectations towards an Obama presidency across the region as a whole. Yet in the case of Cuba it was always hedged with a certain degree of wariness. The inability of any improvement in relations between the two countries is deep-rooted and demonstrates the persistence of path dependence. Although it did not seek out to be so, the Cuban Revolution resulted in a zero-sum game for Washington, the defeat of the Batista dictatorship sweeping away the direct political and economic investment that the US had built up over preceding decades. These actions prompted the deterioration in relations between the two countries’ leaderships, leading to the trade embargo that has remained in place despite the collapse of the Cubans’ principal international sponsor, the Soviet Union, in 1989-91.

Another path-dependent aspect of this freeze was the impact that four successive waves of Cuban immigration have had on domestic American politics – which have reinforced the existing policy. Unlike other Hispanic groups, Cuban motivations to reach the US have been as much political as they have been economic. The most active politically have tended to be anti-Castro in their views, from the rich who fled after 1959, and the more middle and working class Cubans between 1965 and 1974, to the exiles from all social classes who took advantage of the Mariel boatlift after 1980, to those who have braved the straits since 1992 when Washington tightened the embargo.

The influence of this Cuba-American lobby on US policy has been felt mainly in two ways. First, compared to other Hispanics, Cuban-Americans have tended to support more conservative politicians who support their political position. This may account for the greater degree to which Cuban-Americans identify with Republicans rather than Democrats. A Florida International University poll noted that in 2008 52% of Cuban-American voters were registered Republicans, with 62% voting for John McCain and 72% for Republican congressional candidates. This was in marked contrast to other Hispanic communities, which voted overwhelmingly for Obama in 2008, including in Florida, where most Cuban-Americans reside.

Second, Cuban-Americans are able to make their position count in relation to US policy towards Cuba. Being richer than other Hispanics they have more resources at their disposal, which through the use of campaign finance they are able to gain support for their views. This is most notably demonstrated by the exposition that more than $10m in campaign contributions have been distributed by groups such as the US-Cuba Democracy Political Action Committee (PAC) and others since 2004. This money has reaped results: both Democrat and Republican congressmen who have been beneficiaries have modified their positions accordingly, while the anti-Castro PACs are demonstrating awareness of changing times: whereas 71% of funds were allocated to Republicans in 2004, in 2010 an estimated 76% will go into Democrats’ hands.

And yet, could the power of the anti-Castro lobby in the Cuban-American population be overstated, perhaps even coming to an end? There are at least three points that might indicate their strength will be weakened. First, although their presence is extremely visible in Florida, where two-thirds of them live, they only accounted for 3.5% of the total Hispanic population in 2008. As well as being overshadowed by the sheer size of the Mexican-Americans (66%) and Puerto Ricans (9%), they are also among the slowest growing; Cuban women accounted for the lowest levels of fertility when compared to the other two Hispanic groups. Over time this should mean that the influence of Cuban-American concerns may be diminished – or at least restricted only to internal Florida politics – as other Hispanic-specific issues become more prominent.

Second, US policy may come under greater scrutiny, especially if the Cuban-American population begins to pay closer attention to its own internal contradictions. On one hand Cuban-Americans tend to have a more favourable view of government than other Hispanic groups. This may partly be due to the more positive response by Washington to immigration by Cuban-Americans and their lower feelings of concern on the issue compared to others. On the other hand the 2008 poll revealed that a large majority (79%) felt that the trade embargo has either not worked very well or at all; when asked if they would favour re-establishing diplomatic relations with Cuba nearly two-thirds (65%) were in support. The differences felt by Cuban-Americans on these issues could well prompt a re-evaluation in the future.

Such a shift may already be underway. A third factor that may account for the decline in the strength of the anti-Castro groups may be evident in the diversity of the Cuban population. The breakdown of the 2008 poll revealed significant differences in respondents’ political choices. Those who were older or left the island earlier were much more likely to vote Republican, whereas among the young, recent arrivals and US-born Cubans the margin of difference between the two parties was narrower.

Guy Burton is a research associate on the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE Ideas Centre.

Yemen: Secession Scenarios

Welcome to the Shifting Sands blog at LSE IDEAS. We invite PhD students and academics from throughout the UK and abroad to analyse current events in the Middle East and add to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions. Our next contributor, Christopher Swift, delves into the historical and current basis for the secession movement in Yemen.

We look forward to exploring both regional and topical issues relating to current events.
Amber Holewinski, Editor, LSE IDEAS Middle East International Affairs Programme Blog

Yemen: Secession Scenarios

By Christopher Swift

Three months after the failed bombing of Northwest Flight 253, terrorism has become the dominant theme in Yemen’s foreign policy. On 29 March, Deputy Yemeni Planning Minister Hisham Sharaf Abdullah presented a five-year, $44 billion aid plan to the so-called ‘Friends of Yemen’ group in Abu Dhabi. And earlier that same day, Yemeni Vice President Abd al-Rab Mansur al-Hadi told a U.S. Congressional delegation that additional bilateral assistance would be necessary to confront the threat posed by al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP).

The linkage between economic malaise and Islamic militancy is credible. Thirty-four percent of Yemen’s population is unemployed. Forty percent live below the poverty line. And nearly seventy percent is below the age of twenty-four. With water tables receding, oil revenues dwindling, and the population rapidly increasing, conditions are ripe for institutional collapse and popular radicalization. Yet strangely absent from this discourse are the injuries Yemen visited on itself. From endemic corruption to political repression, weak governance also contributes to Yemen’s internal unrest.

These self-inflicted wounds manifest in two distinct insurgencies: a sectarian rebellion in the north, and a secular secessionist movement in the south. The former pits Yemen’s Sunni regime against Houthi militants from the Zaidi Shi’a community. The latter perpetuates tensions lingering since the 1994 Yemen Civil War. Although the two conflicts have little in common from a sociological or even ideological perspective, each undermines the integrity and legitimacy of the Yemeni state.

Against that backdrop, Yemeni President Ali Abdullal Saleh’s recent truce with the Houthi rebels is an encouraging development. That truce is tenuous at best. Since 2004, Sana’a and the Houthi have entered and broken four similar agreements. More significantly, the issues driving the rebellion - religious differences, political disenfranchisement, and economic dislocation - remain unresolved. Yet even a temporary respite from this recurring conflict would free Yemeni security forces for operations against AQAP. And to the extent that the truce quiets sectarian strife, it may also dissuade future interventions from Saudi Arabia and Iran.

Developments in southern Yemen are far less auspicious. Since 2007, the so-called Southern Movement has organized demonstrations and other forms of civil disobedience to protest Sana’s policies toward the six provinces that once comprised the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen (PDRY). Yet starting in 2008, those protests grew increasingly violent, with government security forces killing and wounding scores of protestors. By 2009, armed factions within the Southern Movement were responding in kind, with sporadic gun battles breaking out in cities and towns across the south. With tensions mounting, a growing number of southern political figures now demand independence.

Those demands stem from three mutually-reinforcing sources of resentment. The first is the Yemeni government’s alleged appropriation and misallocation of the south’s oil wealth. The second is alleged discrimination against southerners with respect to government employment, educational opportunities, and other forms of political patronage. The third is the systematic and sometimes brutal repression of political dissent by the Yemeni security forces - repression that invites apprehension from Western donors and condemnation from prominent human rights organizations. These conditions undermine national unity. According to a poll conducted by the Yemen Centre for Civil Liberties in January 2010, seventy percent of Yemenis living in the former PDRY now favour independence.

History also informs secessionist impulses. Although the 1990 merger between the two Yemen’s was initially amicable, integrating the two political and economic systems quickly proved contentious. By 1994, the Yemen Socialist Party had broken with the coalition government and reasserted independence. The resulting civil war produced unconventional alignments. Wary of Saleh’s support for Iraq during the 1991 Persian Gulf War, Saudi Arabia reversed its support for the more traditional north and intervened on behalf of the socialist South. The North responded by recruiting Yemeni veterans of the Soviet-Afghan War in a bid to crush the rebellion.

Those alignments are now reversed. Wary of Yemen’s potential collapse, the Saudi government has stepped up bilateral cooperation with Saleh’s beleaguered regime. Yemen’s Afghan Arabs, in turn, have seized upon North-South tensions to advance their own agendas. Foremost among them is Tariq al-Fadhli, who broke a 15-year alliance with Saleh in April 2009 to join the secessionist movement. AQAP has also entered the fray, with leader Nasser al-Wahayshi calling for the south’s secession and the creation of an Islamic state in the region in May 2009.

Working from that basis, some pro-government observers now allege collaboration between the Southern Movement and radical Islamist syndicates. Yet a common cause does not necessarily imply a common scheme. For the socialists, secession portends a return to political power. For tribal leaders like al-Fadhli, independence promises greater autonomy. And for AQAP, sustained civil conflict provides a means of radicalizing and recruiting ordinary Yemenis into its ranks. In this sense, the current convergence of interests masks a set of distinct and ultimately diverging agendas.

Those agendas offer some insight into both the character and consequences of civil conflict in Yemen. Although the Southern Movement may dream of an independent state, it lacks the institutional infrastructure and military apparatus possessed by the Yemen Socialist Party in 1994. And while Saleh’s government may wish to preserve national unity, dwindling revenues and mounting resentments undermine the patronage system on which that unity depends. Thus neither the North nor the South is likely to realize its ambitions. And rather than fracturing into two independent polities, the steady erosion of social and political cohesion seems more likely to produce a Yemen that resembles neighboring Somalia.

That scenario may empower tribal leaders. To the extent that national governance becomes intolerable or ineffectual, traditional social and political structures will invariably fill the void. This observation may help explain al-Fadhli’s break with Saleh and subsequent calls for independence. Yet the real beneficiaries are al-Wahayshi and his allies in the Hadhramaut valley. So long as Yemen’s internal conflicts remain unresolved, the state will be unable to address the social and economic hardships that undermine public order. And so long as that order is in disarray, AQAP stands to profit from the discord.

Christopher Swift is an attorney in the Washington, DC office of Baker Botts, LLP and a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Politics & International Studies at the University of Cambridge. His research examines convergence and divergence in contemporary Islamic militancy, with an emphasis on the relationship between al-Qaeda and indigenous Muslim insurgencies. He has conducted fieldwork in regions including southern Afghanistan and the North Caucasus.

Next Week: RMA: The Revolution in Military Affairs and the changing nature of warfare in the Middle East

Book Review: 'Revolutionary Social Change in Colombia' by James J Brittain

'Revolutionary Social Change in Colombia' is set to become a key text for those seeking to understand the Colombian crisis. Overturning many of the assumptions that are made about both the Colombian state and the guerrillas, Brittain has managed to write a book that opens a new window onto the Colombian situation, blowing away the cobwebs of old preconceptions and forcing the reader to re-evaluate their opinions of both the state, the guerrillas, Colombian society, and the role of the United States in the conflict.

Brittain’s book uses a study of the FARC as a lens on Colombian history and on the current situation. The reasons for the FARC’s existence are clearly covered, as is its world view. The chapters on the political economy of rural Colombia, and the role of the Colombian elite in the conflict provide a clear analysis of the roots of the conflict and show that far from being an organisation that has lost its ideology, the FARC are a highly ideological organisation determined to establish an alternative social order. An innovative and indigenously developed version of Marxism, where a development of Gramscian hegemony rather than the conquest of state power is the fundamental, is the basis of this political project.

The book begins with a look at the origins of the FARC, and finds that they lie in pre-Second World War peasant self-defence groups, which had their origins in Marxist inspired peasant organisations dating from the turn of the 20th century. These then developed in conjunction with the Colombian Communist Party, which recognised early on in its existence the different approaches needed to organise in urban and rural areas. Building on this long history, rural areas rapidly became areas of strong communist influence. Brittain explicitly rejects the role of the Liberal Party in the formation of the FARC, claiming that the self-defence groups “were never constructs of social democratic elements of Liberal-leftist factions, but solely from the PCC.”

Interestingly, rather than seeing the development of these self-defence communities as reflecting an armed rejection of economic progress, Brittain emphasises that they were in fact established as alternative, indigenous models of development. This view denies the somewhat elitist perception that the peasants merely organised themselves in order to ‘escape’ and claims for the peasantry the conscious rejection of the economic model that the oligarchic state was trying to implement. It was the success of this alternative model that forced the governing elites to see the ‘independent republics’ as a threat, thus beginning the long and bloody history of state repression of the peasantry in Colombia.

In his analysis of the structure and growth of the FARC, Brittain states that the FARC has consistently grown over the last few decades. He attributes this growth to economic factors, such as the imposition of neoliberal economic policies in Colombia, and social factors such as the level of mutual dependency and ‘reciprocal alliance’ between the peasantry and the FARC. This dependency and alliance between the peasantry and the guerrillas is the direct result of the FARC’s efforts, not to seize state power, but rather to supplant it in the zones which they control. Brittain uses a wide variety of sources to reference this point, and it has to be said that it is highly convincing.

He underlines this point by describing the military strength of the FARC, despite their undergoing “unprecedented difficulties in 2008”, critiquing government statistics on the ‘progress’ of the war by citing numerous Colombian and international actors who have admitted that these are manipulated and falsified. This could help to explain why the war does not appear to have ended yet, despite years of Colombian government claims that the FARC are finished. Brittain’s conclusions are also backed by the recent report by the widely respected Arcoiris NGO, which states that the FARC has actually increased its presence across Colombia in 2009. Brittain specifically links the growth of the rebel organisation to the growth of economic and social inequality, a point also made by former FARC hostage Luis Eladio Perez.

Brittain then goes on to describe the FARC’s civilian support in both cities and rural areas, explaining why it has designated itself the “army of the people” since the 1980s, and how this has affected its actions. In the cities, where vast numbers of urban poor receive little if any state attention, the FARC provides free schools and clinics and has networks that led the US embassy to admit in 2006 that it retained “the capacity to launch urban military campaigns”. In rural areas Brittain claims that the FARC does not fight for the rural masses, but rather that it is an integral part of rural society. Backing this point of view is the statistic that during the last peace process, when the FARC were conceded a large demilitarised zone with no Colombian state presence, the population of the region grew from 100,000 to roughly 740,000 over a four-year period. Furthermore, Brittain quotes studies that have shown that when the FARC is forced to abandon an area a large number of peasants leave alongside them. These facts do not chime with Colombian media claims that the FARC has no civilian support.

Although the author does not claim that the FARC has universal support and acceptance, he does challenge the government’s rival claim to the same. He debunks the idea of anti-FARC demonstrations being true expressions of popular anger at the FARC, saying that state and elite controlled media widely broadcast news of the upcoming demonstration, and that the idea of an internet-driven campaign being truly popular is ridiculous in a country where less than 5% of the population have regular access to the internet. Furthermore, he explains that the opinion polls so regularly quoted in both national and international media are suspect, being based on landline interviews with 1000 or so inhabitants of the four largest cities. In the context of widespread paramilitary terror it would be foolish to assume respondents being honest in a telephone interview with an unknown interlocutor. That most Colombians do not own landlines is another factor making these polls unreliable, according to the author, in addition to the fact that the polling companies refuse to poll in rural areas. Convincingly he quotes a poll that was taken in 17 cities, which showed support for Uribe dropping by 20% compared to the standard four-city poll.

One of the most interesting aspects of this work is the way in which Brittain analyses the role of the Colombian elite, the state and international factors in the internal conflict. Describing how the internal desire of the Colombian elite to expand their power coincided with North American efforts to avoid another Cuban-style revolution to create a state that ignored the interests of the majority of the population. Brittain describes how various initiatives were either co-opted by the rural population, or were put in place legally, but never acted upon by the state, as in the example of the 1960s land reform which merely reinforced the position of the Colombian landowning oligarchy with regard to the peasantry. This situation was then further entrenched by the appearance of the coca industry in the 1990s, at the same time as neoliberal reforms made the production of coffee and other products uneconomic, and forced hundreds of thousands of small producers into ruin. Together they have resulted in 1.1% of the population controlling over 55% of the land, while 97% of the population have access to only 25% of the land. Such incredible inequality speaks for itself.

Another profoundly interesting aspect of the book is the way in which it forcibly rejects the widespread notion that the FARC is involved in and profits from the drugs trade. This, according to Brittain, is not the case. He argues that the FARC reject the coca industry because this industry replicates capitalist relations of production, and because its cultivation corrupts the alternative social order that the guerrillas seek to defend. In fact, the FARC and the narco-traffickers are enemies precisely because the huge profits that the narco-traffickers make from cocaine are recycled into land acquisitions which replicate and deepen land concentration at the expense of the FARC’s peasant social constituency. The opposition of the FARC to the narco-traffickers then led these to establish alliances with the armed forces and large landowners in order for them to expand territory used for coca cultivation.

Brittain describes how the FARC have been forced to accept some cultivation of the coca crop in areas under their control because they “must support the class that produces it”. Rather than profit from the drugs trade the FARC has decided, in cooperation with the peasants, to establish fair market relations governing the production of what is in effect Colombia’s main export crop. The FARC ensures fair prices for small-time producers, protects the peasants from paramilitaries and the armed forces, and, through taxation of the production and movement of coca, provides funding and resources for self-managed social services for the rural population. Thus, the FARC’s relationship with the coca trade is similar to its relationship to the economy and Colombian society as a whole. The FARC doesn’t profit from coca because it isn’t interested in money, it is interested in the creation of a revolutionary social order that will replace the Colombian state.

The author then uses this to explain the state’s relationship to narco-traffickers and the paramilitaries. The FARC is a threat to the Colombian state because it successfully establishes a fully functioning and legitimate alternative social organisation that fully compensates for the absence of the Colombian state, and is moreover, more democratic and more just than the state. The forces of the state have proved inadequate in destroying this alternative, and therefore the elites and the Colombian drug trafficking ‘nouveau riche’ have joined forces, combining the violence of the state with that of paramilitary groups in an effort to destroy the FARC and the social basis for political and economic change. Perhaps the most interesting part of the book is the description of the FARC’s fostering and cultivation of an innovative form of social and economic organisation in the areas it controls. With an emphasis on popular, grass roots participation, these forms provide all the services of a normal state, as well as creating democratic political institutions, which the FARC hopes will allow it to overcome the Colombian state ‘from below’ rather than through the military conquest of the institutions of state power, as previous revolutionaries have attempted to do.

This book is one of the few studies of the Colombian conflict that, through a systematic and thorough analysis, allows the reader to perceive its driving forces. The analysis presented by Brittain helps in comprehending why the Colombian state and its paramilitary allies have been responsible for the killings of so many trade unionists, human rights defenders and political and social organisers. It is clear that they also represent alternative visions of Colombia, and are therefore seen as an “internal enemy” to be dealt with as such, rather than as members of civil society.

By clearly outlining the causes of the conflict, and by clarifying many of the preconceptions around the FARC, this book helps to make a clear case for resolving the Colombian conflict through negotiation and demonstrates the futility and injustice of simply labelling one of the actors ‘terrorists’ while uncritically assuming the state is a fully functioning representative democracy that operates under the rule of law and in the interests of the majority of its people. For anyone seeking to understand Colombia today, this book is a ‘must read’.

Victor Figueroa-Clark is a PhD candidate in the International History department at the LSE

Living in the Real World: The Nuclear Posture Review

“We live in a real world, not a virtual world” was Nicolas Sarkozy's veiled riposte to Barack Obama's vision of a globe free from nuclear weapons, articulated in his Prague speech of April 2009. Some commentators on the right are echoing this criticism in response to the administration's declaration in its Nuclear Posture Review (NPR), “that the United States will not use or threaten to use nuclear weapons against non-nuclear weapons states that are party to the NPT (Non-Proliferation Treaty) and in compliance with their nuclear non-proliferation obligations.” This would pertain even if the US came under biological or chemical attack.

Internationally, this commitment is important because it seeks to strengthen the NPT prior to the Review Conference in May by providing a clear incentive to be in compliance with the treaty's terms, whilst bolstering US claims that it will not take advantage of its nuclear status at the expense of those countries without an independent deterrent. However, critics charge that Obama is pursuing his nuclear-free idealism at the expense of American security: they argue that clarifying under what conditions the US would consider using nuclear weapons invites potential adversaries to test those limits, thereby degrading the country's deterrent.

In fact, the NPR reflects strategic realities. The political costs of using or even threatening to employ nuclear weapons are immense and unpredictable, particularly against a country that does not possess them. By contrast, the US capability to dismantle a state through conventional means has increased exponentially in recent decades and does not carry the same political stigma. Under these conditions, the NPR's assurance that an American conventional response to a chemical or biological attack would be “devastating” is far more credible than the latent threat of massive nuclear retaliation. Importantly, the pledge does not pertain to those regimes that the administration has designated “outliers”: Iran and North Korea. Nor does it apply to other nuclear weapons states, leaving the US with a free hand in dealing with almost all potential crises where the deterrent could be useful.

The NPR also reflects domestic political conditions by sidestepping arms control advocates' calls for US commitment to no first use of nuclear weapons. This may reflect divisions within the executive, but it also indicates that Obama is prioritising concrete steps towards disarmament over grand gestures. To ratify the New START treaty, the President will need sixty-seven Senators to vote for it. The administration is already treading a fine line between domestic pressure for freedom of action on missile defence and Russian attempts to restrain US defensive deployments through linkage with New START. Commitment to no first use would have opened up the Senate debate over New START into a wider discussion of whether the administration's nuclear policy was weakening national security, damaging the treaty's ratification prospects. At a time of intense partisanship in Congress, it is vital for the administration to defend itself against criticism that equates New START with a degradation of America's ability to respond to potential threats. The President may have established a global security environment free from nuclear weapons as his ultimate aim, but his steps towards this goal show that he is living in the real world and not a virtual one.


James Cameron is a PhD student at the University of Cambridge, writing on the development of US anti-ballistic missile (ABM) defence policy from 1955 to 1972.

Lebanon and Syria: What are the prospects for improved relations?

Welcome to the Shifting Sands blog at LSE IDEAS. We invite PhD students and academics from throughout the UK and abroad to analyse current events in the Middle East and add to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions. Our next contributor, Hannes Baumann, explores the changing dynamics in Lebanese-Syrian relations.

We look forward to exploring both regional and topical issues relating to current events.
Amber Holewinski, Editor, LSE IDEAS Middle East International Affairs Programme Blog

Lebanon and Syria: What are the prospects for improved relations?

By Hannes Baumann

One cliché loved by Western journalists writing about Syria is the “road to Damascus.” A particularly astonishing conversion occurred on the Beirut-Damascus highway on 31 March, when Lebanese-Druze leader Walid Jumblat travelled to the Syrian capital to pay his respects to President Bashar Assad. Having previously called Assad a monkey, snake, crocodile, and murderer, Jumblat recently rediscovered Syria as his “family and home.” Considered the “weathervane” of Lebanese politics (another cliché loved by Western journalists), the Druze leader knows where the wind is blowing. Lebanon’s Sunni Prime Minister Saad Hariri already paid a visit to Damascus in December 2009, the first such trip by a Lebanese head of government since 2005. Damascus, too, has made concessions: For the first time since independence in 1946, the two countries have exchanged ambassadors and there is talk of a final demarcation of the border.

Hariri and Jumblat had been the leaders of Lebanon’s “March 14” coalition, which formed after the assassination of Saad Hariri’s father, former Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri, on 14 February 2005. Some Christian leaders joined Jumblat and Hariri in immediately identifying Damascus as the culprit of the assassination. They found willing allies in US President George W. Bush, French President Jacques Chirac, and the Saudi leadership. The United States withdrew their ambassador from Syria amid clamour for regime change. A UN investigation into the murder promptly – and conveniently – identified the Syrian regime as the prime suspect. Syria was forced to withdraw its troops from Lebanon, stationed there since 1976. Damascus’ allies gathered in the “March 8” coalition, comprising the Shi’i movements Hezbollah and Amal, as well as Christian leader Michel Aoun. The tension between “March 8” and “March 14” intensified after the Israeli war with Lebanon in July 2006. Lebanon reached the brink when Hezbollah and its allies overwhelmed Druze and Sunni militants in violent clashes in May 2008. This was a turning point: with Qatari mediation, Lebanese politicians negotiated a compromise, paving the way for presidential and parliamentary elections and for improved relations with Syria. The Obama administration nominated an ambassador to Damascus to the U.S. Senate in February 2010, Saudi Arabia has resumed financial aid to Syria, and Jumblat and Hariri are reconciling with Assad. Only the two Maronite Christian leaders Samir Geagea and Amin Gemayel still oppose the rapprochement.

Does the demise of “March 14” as an “anti-Syrian” coalition signal a fundamental change in Syrian-Lebanese relations? For an answer, we need to look at the two fundamental factors that shape this relationship. First, Syria and Lebanon have had two very different experiences of state formation. Lebanon’s confessional power-sharing arrangement has fostered a political elite whose members look for outside help against domestic opponents. Since independence in 1946, Lebanon has been an arena for regional conflicts. The same used to be true for post-independence Syria but the Ba’thist coup in 1963 and Hafiz Assad’s takeover in 1970 insulated the military regime from foreign meddling. Syria had moved from being acted upon to being an actor in regional politics – including Lebanon. Syria’s strategy in Lebanon is shaped by its stance in the Arab-Israeli conflict, the second major factor in Syrian-Lebanese relations. Since 1973 it has been Syria’s preferred option to regain the occupied Golan Heights through a negotiated settlement with Israel. However, the Ba’thist regime sought a comprehensive Arab-Israeli settlement from a position of strength, rather than a succession of separate peace treaties by individual Arab states, which would leave the Palestinians out in the cold.

Lebanon has been a major irritant in Syria’s aggressive quest to capture the commanding heights of Arab strategy. Militarily, Syria feared an Israeli invasion via Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. On the diplomatic level, Syria sought to prevent a separate peace agreement between Lebanon and Israel. These concerns shaped Syrian intervention in the Lebanese civil war 1975-1990. The Taif peace accord of 1989 shaped Lebanon’s post-war political order and legitimised Syrian domination. While Assad was negotiating with Israel from 1991 to 2000, Lebanon had to await a prior Israeli-Syrian settlement. This led to contradictory developments inside Lebanon. The businessman-prime minister and Saudi ally Rafiq Hariri pursued a neoliberal reconstruction programme, which was premised on peace with Israel. While peace remained a prospect, Hariri was happy to accept Syrian domination in Lebanon. Meanwhile, southern Lebanon remained occupied by Israel. The Shi’i Hezbollah movement attacked Israeli troops and, at times, shot rockets at Israeli towns. For Assad, the Syrian alliance with Hezbollah provided a “card” he could play in negotiations with Israel. Despite two major Israeli attacks on Lebanon in 1993 and 1996, this period was marked by relative calm in Lebanese politics. The situation changed dramatically after 2000: Israeli-Syrian negotiations collapsed, Hafiz Assad was succeeded by his son Bashar, and Israel withdrew from southern Lebanon. The contradictions between Hariri’s “reconstruction” and Hezbollah’s “resistance” came to the fore, while US clamour for “regime change” in Syria hastened the political crisis that led to Hariri’s assassination in 2005.

Syria has now reasserted its position. Saudi Arabia, the United States, and most of “March 14” have reconciled with Damascus. Prior to the Gaza war in January 2009, Assad engaged in indirect negotiations with Israel, mediated by Turkey. If the regional thaw persists, Syrian-Lebanese relations will remain cordial. However, the fundamental factors shaping the relationship remain unchanged. Lebanon’s leaders are still relying on foreign allies to bolster their position. A return of Saudi-Syrian tension would spur confrontation between Hariri and Assad. Conversely, a Syrian-Israeli peace deal could break up Hezbollah’s alliance with Damascus. Domestically, Hariri and Jumblat are struggling to convince their following of the need for reconciliation with Syria, which contradicts four years of popular mobilisation against Damascus. Meanwhile, the threshold for Syrian-Israel peace remains high. Israel demands that Syria break with Iran, Hamas and Hezbollah prior to returning the occupied Golan Heights, while Syria rejects any preconditions to the recovery of its territory. For Lebanese-Syrian relations, expect more of the same.

Hannes Baumann is a PhD student at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) and focuses on Lebanon.

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