How Diplomacy Fails
Remarks to the Hammer Forum Review of the Diplomatic
Lessons of 1914 for 2014
Ambassador Chas W. Freeman, Jr. (USFS, Ret.)
The Hammer Museum
Los Angeles California, 19 August 2014
We are here to
discuss what we can learn from the failure of diplomacy to prevent, halt, and
wrap up World War I. We just heard a
masterful review of what happened from Geoffrey Wawro. He has already said most of the things I
wanted to say. So he's left me with no alternative but to actually address
the topic I was asked to speak about, which is the failings of today's American
diplomacy in light of the deficiencies of diplomacy in 1914.
There are in
fact some very disquieting similarities between the challenges statecraft faced
back then and those it faces today.
The eve of
World War I was also a time of rapid globalization, shifting power balances,
rising nationalisms, socioeconomic stress, and transformative military technologies. The railroad networks, barbed wire, dynamite,
repeating rifles, machine guns, long-range artillery, aircraft and submarines
that altered the nature of war then are paralleled by today’s cyber and
space-based surveillance systems, drones, precision-guided munitions,
sub-launched and land-based anti ship missiles,
missile defense and penetration aids, anti satellite missiles, cyber
assaults, hypersonic gliders, and nuclear weapons. Changes in the European political economy set
the stage for World War I. Changes in
technology made it different from previous wars.
Armed conflict
between major powers today would reveal that warfare has again mutated and
developed new horrors for its participants.
But some factors driving conflict now would parallel those of a century
ago. In 1914, as in 2014, a professional
military establishment, estranged from society but glorified by it, drew up war
plans using new technologies on the fatal premise that the only effective defense
is a preemptive offense. Then, as now,
these plans evolved without effective political oversight or diplomatic
input. Then, as now,
military-to-military interactions within alliances sometimes took place without
adequate supervision by civilian authority, leading to unmanageable policy disconnects
that were revealed only when war actually broke out.
As the 20th
century began, successive crises in the Balkans had the effect of replacing the
19th century’s careful balancing of interests with competition
between military blocs. This conflated
military posturing with diplomacy, much as events in the East and South China Seas, the Middle
East, and Ukraine seem to be doing today.
Then, as now, decisions by the smaller allies of the great powers risked
setting off local wars that might rapidly expand and escalate. Then, as now, most people thought that,
whatever smaller countries might do, war between the great powers was
irrational and therefore would not occur.
And then, as now, the chiefs of state and government of the great powers
practiced attention deficit diplomacy.
They were so engaged at the tactical level that they had little time to
give full consideration to the strategic implications of their decisions.
Ironically, in
light of what actually happened, few would dispute that the factors inhibiting
war in Europe in 1914 were greater than those impeding it today. European leaders were not only personally
acquainted but, in many instances, related to each other. They and their diplomatic aides knew each other
well. There was a common European
culture and a tradition of successful conference diplomacy and crisis
management for them to draw upon.
European imperialists could and had often solved problems by trading
colonies or other peripheral interests to reduce tensions between themselves. None of these factors exist today to reduce
the likelihood of wars between the United States and China or Iran, or NATO and
Russia, or China and Japan or India – to name only the pairings warmongers seem
to enjoy talking about the most.
On the other
hand, alliances today facilitate cooperation.
In practice, they no longer, as they did in 1914, oblige mutual aid or
embody preconcerted common purposes.
This welcome but dishonorable fact reduces the moral hazard implicit in
American defense commitments to weaker allies and diminishes the prospect that
they might act rashly because the U.S. has their back. It also reduces the danger of automatic
widening and escalation of local wars.
No one wants
war of any kind. But, as events in
Europe in the summer of 1914 remind us, discounting the possibility of war and
not wanting it are not enough to prevent it from happening. And, as the president suggested in his
commencement address at West Point this May, we need to find alternatives to
the use of force to advance our interests in the 21st century. That means strengthening our capacity for
diplomacy.
It is said that
those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it. But it is equally true that those who learn
the wrong lessons from history must expect reeducation by painful
experience. So it’s not surprising that,
since the end of the Cold War, American diplomacy has suffered repeated rebuke
from unexpected developments. Some of
these have taken place in the Balkans, where World War I was kindled – and
where we have arranged a ceasefire, installed a garrison, and called it peace.
But most
challenges to our problem-solving ability are coming from other places and are
producing still worse results. Consider
the north Korean and Iranian nuclear issues, Israel-Palestine, 9/11 and our
ever-intensifying conflict with militant Islam, regime change in Iraq, the
Russo-Georgian war, the Arab uprisings (including that in Syria), “humanitarian
intervention” in Libya, the “pivot to Asia” amidst tussles in the South and
East China Seas, the collapse of Sykes-Picot and the rise of Jihadistan in the
Levant, and the Ukraine crisis, among other tests of American statecraft. It's hard to think of anything that's has
gone right.
It’s worth
asking what we have got wrong. Clearly,
military strength alone is not enough to guarantee international order or
compel deference to U.S. desires. So
Americans are looking for a more restrained and less militaristic way of
dealing with the world beyond our borders.
The president
nicely captured the national mood when he said that “our military has no peer,”
but added that: “U.S. military action
cannot be the only -- or even primary -- component of our leadership in every
instance. Just because we have the best hammer does not mean that every problem
is a nail."
That insight
implies that we should be skilled at measures
short of war, that is: diplomacy.
For many reasons, we are not. To
set aside militarism and redevelop the
capacity to shape events abroad to our advantage without a feckless resort to
force, we need to unlearn a lot of bad habits and to reexamine some of the
presuppositions guiding our approach to foreign affairs. Military
overreach cannot be offset by diplomatic incapacity.
Part of what is
required is correcting dysfunctional assumptions about how to deal with ornery
foreigners. Denouncing them and breaking
off dialogue with them is petulant. It
doesn't solve problems. Refusing to meet with another government
until it accepts and meets our moral standards is a sure recipe for
impasse. “Come out with your hands up or
we won't talk to you" is not a persuasive way to begin negotiations. Declaratory "diplomacy" and sanctions
entrench confrontation. They neither
mitigate it or address its causes. We
are seeing that effect now with Russia in Ukraine.
Short of the
use of force, without tactfully persuasive conversation very few people and no
nations can be convinced to change course.
It is difficult to get an adversary to yield when he believes his
political survival as well as his dignity depend on not surrendering. So as long as we know what we are going to
say and what effect it is likely to have, it is better to talk than not to
talk. Those with whom we disagree need
to hear directly and respectfully from us why we think they are wrong and
harming their own interests and why they are costing themselves opportunities
they should want to pursue and risking injuries they should wish to avoid.
It takes time
to establish the mutual confidence necessary for such dialogue. It is counterproductive to stand on our side
of the oceans and give other nations the finger, while threatening to bomb
them. It does not make sense to react to
problems in other nations by severing communication with them. As Winston Churchill observed, “the reason
for having diplomatic relations is not to confer a compliment but to secure a
convenience.” Yet, for example, we
routinely withdraw military attachés following military coups. Since our attachés are the only American
officials who know and have credibility with the new military rulers, this is
the equivalent of gagging, deafening, and blinding ourselves – a kind of
unilateral diplomatic disarmament. Our
diplomatic technique badly needs an upgrade.
But the more
fundamental problem for U.S. diplomacy is the moral absolutism inherent in
American exceptionalism. Our unique
historical experience shapes our approach to our disadvantage, ruling out much
of the bargaining and compromise that are central to diplomacy. In our Civil War, World War I, World War II,
and the Cold War, we demonized the enemy and sought his unconditional
surrender, followed by his repentance, reconstruction, and ideological
remolding. The American way of international contention formed by these
experiences is uniquely uncompromising.
Our rigidity is reinforced by the mythic cliché of Hitler at Munich.
That has come to stand for the overdrawn conclusion that the conciliation of
adversaries is invariably not just foolish but immoral and self-defeating.
The Cold War
reduced most American diplomacy to proclaiming our values, holding our ground,
containing the enemy, and preventing inroads into our sphere of influence – the
zone we called “the free world.” Despite
occasional talk of “rollback,” with few exceptions, our approach was static and
defensive - the diplomatic equivalent of trench warfare. In this formative period of American
diplomacy, our typical object was not to resolve international quarrels but to
prevent their resolution by military means.
So we learned to respond to problems by pointing a gun at those who made
them but avoiding talking to them or even being seen in their company.
Without our
realizing it, Americans reconceived diplomacy as a means of communicating disapproval,
dramatizing differences, amplifying deterrence, inhibiting change, and
precluding gains by adversaries. For the
most part, we did not see diplomacy as a tool for narrowing or bridging differences,
still less solving them by producing win-win outcomes. We seem to be having trouble remembering that
diplomacy’s usual purpose is to do these
very things.
The experience
of other nations causes most to see diplomacy and war as part of a continuum of
means by which to persuade other states and peoples to end controversies and
accept adjustments in their foreign relations, borders, military postures, and
the like. Given Americans' history of
isolationism alternating with total war, we tend to see diplomacy and armed
conflict as opposites. We describe war
as a failure of diplomacy, not as a sometimes necessary escalation of pressure
to achieve its aims.
Americans
suppose that diplomacy ends when war begins and does not resume until the enemy
lies prostrate before us. We imagine
that wars end when the victor proclaims his military mission accomplished
rather than when the vanquished is brought to accept defeat. Lacking a tradition of war termination
through diplomacy, we have great difficulty successfully ending wars, as Korea,
Vietnam, the Persian Gulf, Bosnia, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya all
attest. We have yet to internalize the
need to reconcile enemies to the political consequences of military outcomes
and to translate these outcomes into peace agreements – binding acceptances of
a new status quo as preferable to its overthrow.
The failure of diplomacy in World
War I left most Americans with a very jaundiced view of it. Will Rogers summed this up when he said “the
United States never lost a war or won a conference” and added “take the
diplomacy out of war and the thing would fall flat in a week.” As a nation, despite our seven decades of
superpower status, Americans still don’t take diplomacy seriously. Most of us see it as an expression of
weakness – so much namby-pamby nonsense before we send in the Marines. And, despite mounting evidence to the
contrary, we still seem convinced that diplomacy is an amateur sport.
We show this in how we staff our
country’s statecraft and diplomacy. Our
military and our spies are professionals.
But, for the most part, our foreign policy is crafted, led, and executed
by ambitious amateurs – ideologues, the paladins of special interests,
securocrats playing games of musical sinecures, political spin doctors, and the
occasional academic. Our ambassadors in
important capitals are selected as a reward for their campaign contributions,
not for their experience in diplomacy or competence at advancing U.S. national
interests abroad. All too often these
days, our politicians fiddle while the world turns, leaving the diplomatic
ramparts unmanned as crises unfold. As
an example, we had no ambassador to Moscow for the five months in which
Russophobes and Russians pulled down an already rickety Ukraine, detached the
Crimea from it, and reignited East-West confrontation in Europe. On August 1, the U.S. Senate cast its last
votes of the season, leaving 59 countries with no American ambassador.
America’s dilettantish approach to
national security is unique among modern states. We get away with it – when we do – mainly
because our diplomacy is supported by very bright and able career officers. But our foreign service works in an environment
contemptuous of professionalism that more often than not leaves its officers'
potential unrecognized, unmentored, and underdeveloped. (If the highest ranks of the diplomatic
profession in the United States are reserved for men and women who have made a
lot of money in other professions and avocations, why should our most talented
young people – even those who want to serve our country – waste time
apprenticing as diplomats? Why not do
something less dangerous and more lucrative, then buy your way in at the
top?) Under the circumstances, it’s
hardly surprising that the United States has come to be known for its military
prowess, not its foreign affairs literacy, the wisdom and imagination of its
statecraft, or the strategic sophistication and subtlety of its diplomacy. This is proving dangerous. In an increasingly competitive world,
diplomatic mediocrity is no longer good enough.
Americans must now consider whether
we can afford to continue to entrust our diplomacy to amateurs. Hastily-arranged presidential phone calls,
hopscotch huddles with foreigners by the secretary of state, scoldings of
foreign leaders by U.S. spokespersons, suspensions of bilateral dialogue,
sanctions (whether unilateral or plurilateral), and attempted ostracism of
foreign governments are racking up a remarkably poor track record in the
increasingly complex circumstances of the post-Cold War world. So is the dangerous conflation of military
posturing with diplomacy. If we
Americans do not learn to excel at measures short of war, we will be left with
no choice but to continue to resort to war to solve problems that experience
tells us can't be solved by it.
To prosper in the multipolar world
before us, Americans will need to be at the top of its diplomatic game. We are a very long way from that at
present. And time’s a wasting.
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