Reflection week 5I. Love. Liberalism.
While I agree with many aspects of realism and constructivism, the core tenets of liberalism have a unique resonance with my understanding of the world. I believe skillful leaders can always find win-win solutions. I believe the negative aspects of human behavior can be combated by linking economic interests to peace and prosperity. Most of all, I believe that liberalization and globalization can make the world a better place. At this moment in American history, public faith in these beliefs is eroding. Both presidential candidates found it pragmatic to oppose the Trans Pacific Partnership, and Progressive and Trumpian pundits alike regularly inveigh against large companies and international trade (albeit for different reasons). These critiques are not without merit, but I would argue they ignore the benefits liberalization can provide. Admittedly, I come from Seattle: a place where the financial benefits of live-and-let-live capitalism are extremely visible. The combined market capitalization of the two biggest technology companies headquartered in the area (Microsoft and Amazon) is 1.854 trillion, or 1,854,000,000,000 dollars. Both companies have benefited extensively from the global economy, and the resulting wealth has benefited hundreds of thousands of people, many of them middle class. The public schools are constantly improving, construction and housing prices are lead the nation, several billion-dollar infrastructure projects are happening at once, and immigrants from all over the world are coming to be enriched by the booming industry. I know that most places do not see the same level of benefit from liberalization, and even within my city the distribution of wealth has been very unequal, but I believe growth improves people's lives in a very real way. The transformative power of self-interest that I have witnessed firsthand lies at the core of liberalism, which means the theory will always resonate with me.
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Should Locke's notion of tolerance be extended to members of the Flat Earth Society? Why, or why not?
I would like to circumnavigate the question before I try to answer it. Consider the case of Hinduism, a multi theistic religion. Given the common definitions of “Paganism” during Locke’s time (it might have referred to indigenous religions or polytheistic ones), it is certainly possible he meant for Hindus to be considered Pagans and, thus, tolerated. Yet this introduces ambiguity into what Locke sees as a clear distinction. While Hinduism may have many feature which entitle it to tolerance, it also cannot be entirely understood as a religion. In many Indic Languages, the accepted term for what might be called Hinduism is “hindu dharma (Hindu moral and religious law),” emphasizing the complex web of traditions and cultural practices it incorporates that would be outside the purview of a western religion. I find this disparity hard to reconcile with Locke’s arguments. Do the religious aspects of Hinduism entitle it to tolerance? Do the extra-religious aspects disqualify it? In both cases the line between Paganism and Atheism is blurred, but Locke’s phrasing suggests he includes Hinduism in his notion of tolerance. This discussion brings us back to the question of Flat Earthers. They do not claim to be a religious body of people, which, under Locke’s definition, makes them Atheists and entitled to no additional tolerance. But let me phrase the question another way:
If you think there is an answer, I would, of course, love to hear it. I found myself revisiting an earlier post on this blog while trying to write this weeks reflection. In our class discussion and blog posts this week, I realized that my peers were seeing Machiavelli's arguments through the lens of real life actions and experiences. I, on the other hand, was taking them as purely sterile and academic. When I read posts such as Vicky's, which drew part of her argument from ongoing events in her family's home country, or Blake's, which reflected on small acts of kindness shown to him by his friends, I began to realize that international relations theory cannot be confined to either international relations or theory.
My previous post I referenced above talked about the divide between personal experiences of international events and the highly-theoretical deliberations that often shape world events. What I realized during class this week, however, was that our opinions of even the most sterile theories are always-already shaped by our personal experiences. While Machiavelli or John Locke might speak in the grandest terms, it was very specific incidents brought on by specific trends that shape their ideas in the first place. Machiavelli, The Prince, Chapter 15: "Let us leave to one side, then, all discussions of imaginary rulers and talk about practical realities." What does he mean by this? Do you agree with him?
In Chapter 15, Machiavelli makes the pragmatic argument that rulers will either be described in the fondest terms or the harshest. He points out that it is essentially impossible to only acquire praise and not censure, and it is most important to focus on which negative traits can be assumed without losing power. Furthermore, he says that some positive traits would be a ruler's downfall if he pursued them, and some negative traits are necessary to stay in power. Given this rough summary, the simplest interpretation of the quote is that Machiavelli is framing his argument about negative traits by arguing that it is impracticable to try and emulate leaders that only exist in theory. This might seem self-evident in a book that is trying to be applicable to the real world, but I think the decision to abandon some "ideal form" of leader all together is actually quite interesting. Machiavelli is not offering a particular outcome that all aspiring leaders can hope to create, but rather a series of independent recommendations to be aspired to. One should seek to be loved or feared by one's people, to earn a reputation through conquest, or to build, in the right circumstances, fortresses. Each of these is an independent consideration, but combining them does not yield one coherent set of principles that could be followed in every case. I think this speaks to what some might call Machiavelli's "moral bankruptcy." His vision of power is amorphous, duplicitous, and yet courageous. He holds convictions about the primal strength and bravery a ruler should posses, but he also recommends self-consciousness and saving face. He talks about the foundational elements of being a leader, but never confines himself to one definition of what might be built on top of them. I agree with Machiavelli's approach in that is has clearly stuck a chord in the human spirit that never goes out of style, but I am skeptical that aspiring leaders could truly constitute themselves out of the disparate material Machiavelli provides. What I would like to reflect on this week is a contemporary example that helped me understand Machiavelli's point of view: Senator Warren's campaign for president in 2020.
I read the prince together with a friend, and we took special interest in Machiavelli's idea of the citizen-ruler. (Chapter 9) My friend is from a country where a far-left candidate recently won the presidential election, spurred to victory by the dissatisfaction of the poor, rural class. According to my friend, after this candidate took power he began to suggest bringing the army under his control and removing term limits. Two moves that can surely be described as Machiavellian. In America, Trump took power by appealing to poor, rural voters, and immediately began to target officials he felt were still loyal to Obama, attempting to capture the institutions of government by "eliminat[ing] the surviving members of the family of their previous rulers." (Machiavelli 8) Given that Trump's actions also seemed Machiavellian, I began to wonder if Machiavelli's understanding of power was inevitable. I considered the case of US Senator Elizabeth Warren, someone I associate with an ideological, optimistic interpretation of power. To summarize my understanding of her beliefs, Warren thinks progressive political action can create a country that is fundamentally equal and inclusive, but the ruling elite have corrupted the system in order to further consolidate their wealth and power. Yet, I had read an article that morning about the deals Warren was making in advance of her expected 2020 presidential campaign. The Senator, long known for her animosity towards Wall Street, has met privately with the heads of various Wall Street firms, purportedly attempting to win their loyalty or at least normalize relations. It occurs to me that this unsavory deal-making resembles Machiavelli's recommendation that new leaders commit crimes as early as possible and all at once. (30) Once again, the behavior of someone in power matched up with Machiavelli's expectations. I have not been entirely persuaded by Machiavelli's understanding of power, but I have come to realize he makes a very strong case. This weeks question (on the subject of diplomatic risk): What, in your view, is the most unrealistic element of this game? Is it a problem that it is unrealistic?
As several other blogs have already noted, I felt that the world council was the least realistic part of our game of risk. More specifically, I felt that the negotiations moved so fast they did not reflect central questions found in real-world diplomacy. I noticed two differences: 1. Less was read into any given action than I expected. My understand of diplomacy, particularly at the UN, is that every vote is scrutinized to understand which countries are working together, or are opposed to each other. I also felt that some diplomats acted in ways that openly disagreed with the objectives of their head of state, which is relatively rare in reality. 2. At first I felt that the world council lacked any of the norms that would usually shape behavior inside such an institution. Actions were taken mercurially, behavior was unpredictable, and in general it felt that everyone had a different understanding of what was going to be accomplished. On the other hand, Miranda's post - gloscho.wordpress.com/2018/09/11/collective-experiences-not-collective-perspectives-playing-diplomatic-risk-as-a-cohort/ - pointed out that the shared experiences we were going through as a class were shaping our understanding of diplomacy. I realized that the lack of norms may be more a function of the relatively short time frame at play, rather than some fundamental inaccuracy. Nevertheless, I would contend that the brevity of the discussions inside the world council did not help us accrue more shared experience, which would be an inaccuracy due to the nature of the simulation. I think that we would have learned more about diplomacy if the negotiations were relatively more realistic, meaning longer, but that we would have learned less about other aspects of the international system. On the whole, I would say is was a small problem. Across the world, it has been a turbulent week. From a reminder that the highest levels of my country's politics might as well be sardonic theater, to a toothless attempt at summitry between Russia, Turkey, and Iran that left a bloody campaign for Idlib looking increasingly inexorable, I have had many opportunities to be reminded why I chose to study international relations.
Two weeks into the first semester, it's hard to say that I feel like I'm learning much about the world's problems. Yet I'm in DC, surrounded by people who are concerned with the same issues I am, and it is refreshing to think I am taking steps in the right direction. We only had one class this week because of labor day (a shame! there was so much to discuss), but the reading for Monday gave me some cause for reflection. The article was published in Foreign Affairs in 2004 and at first I was delighted to revisit an interesting chapter of foreign policy history. The article discussed many of the prominent authors that disciples of foreign policy come to love: Walt, Mearsheimer, Ikenberry, Fukuyama, and the late Krauthammer. I thought the article was insightful, but what struck me the most was how little some parts of public debate have changed in the 15 years since the Iraq war. The views that these individuals held in 2004 seem just as present in the articles, opinion pieces, and twitter feeds they publish today. I don't mean to say their ideas are flawed or outdated, but rather that, on a personal level, I hope to avoid staying in one camp of thought for the majority of my adult life. I have found the most rewarding intellectual experiences to be the ones that changed my opinion entirely, forcing me to accustom myself to a new landscape of ideas. I've even heard these experiences are what college is all about. That's all from me this week. Stay well. I am only writing this at 12:10 AM because I'm afraid something might happen before I get these words typed out. Why is it important to me to talk about this before it happens? In this case, I feel that the transgression on the table is so heinous it will be hard to accept once it has happened. By the time evidence has been collected and the real death toll is published, the world that would have been shocked by the tragedy will be gone, replaced by one that has already accepted it. I am talking about the potential for a Syrian government offensive on the northern rebel-held province of Idlib. I have followed the war in Syria as it has progressed, (with today's technology it was possible to have live updates on which streets in Mosul the war was being fought, updated block by block and hour by hour) but the current situation is unparalleled. Depending on the estimate, as many as 1.5 million people may live in the province, many of whom are internally displaced refugees that have fled the advance of the Syrian army. Unfortunately, there is nowhere left to run. Rebels and civilians alike are faced with a closed Turkish border to the north and a wall of government troops to the south. If Damascus were to attack, even with conventional weapons, it could easily become the bloodiest episode of the war. And this is hardly hypothetical, most observers consider the assault a foregone conclusion. Yet what I am afraid of as much as the bloodshed is the potential for chemical weapons to be used with impunity. Obviously, the Assad regime has used them before, but it has always been an instrument of surprise, mixed in with slaughter by more conventional means. But today I read something in the Guardian that alarmed me: "'Lots of evidence' Syria preparing chemical weapons in Idlib, says US envoy." The use of these heinous weapons in the final chapter of a war Assad has all but won, when the international community knew in advance they were going to be used, would break down whatever norms remain against the use of chemical weapons. Unfortunately, I believe Damascus could get away with the attack. Russia has used its security council veto to end UN investigations into the use of chemical weapons in Syria, and the military retaliation of the US and its allies has been laughable. Moreover, Moscow is taking no chances with US retaliation this time around. The Russian navy has been performing a show of force in the Mediterranean, and the Russian government has told the world to prepare for "rebel use of chemical weapons in Idlib," a flimsy excuse they have used to explain away previous incidents. In the worst case scenario, chemical weapons will be used on civilians while the world looks on helpless. I hope that I am not revisiting this blog a week from now to update that the worst has come to pass. - Sep 7, 2018 |
AuthorAmerican University Class of 2021. Interested in state-building and economic governance. Archives
December 2018
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