Issue II, 2008 in PDF

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Issue II 2008

A word from the Editor

Development is a subject equally capable of inspiring widespread consensus and fiery debate. Few observers would deny that it is one of the most pressing issues on the global agenda. There is little agreement, however, on what developmental objectives should be and how they are best pursued.

The stakes could not be higher. Skyrocketing food prices are causing widespread deprivation. As violent conflict and natural disasters capture the world’s attention, large populations quietly languish in circumstances that are less ostensibly newsworthy, yet equally devastating. With the erosion of the planet’s finite resources, the symptoms of environmental strain will only intensify the burden already borne by the world’s poorest communities.

The quest for a silver bullet has proved fruitless. Development policies must be tailored to local needs. Policymakers should not allow ideological preoccupations to hinder their pursuit of practical outcomes.

This issue of The Sydney Globalist canvasses a wide range of perspectives on development. In “Healthy, Less Wealthy and Wiser”, Nadia Yetton-Lim and Alice Zheng highlight the limitations of traditional economic indicators in capturing the social dimensions of poverty. Other contributors raise pertinent questions relating to such topics as resource distribution, environmental sustainability and governance.

The cogs of The Sydney Globalist have been turning rapidly in recent months. I have been fortunate enough to meet with Peter Rodgers, the former Australian Ambassador to Israel, whose sobering diagnosis of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the subject of our feature interview. We have also been liaising closely with our friends in the Global 21 network, culminating in our participation in the inaugural Global 21 Conference in Istanbul. Christopher Beshara, Tristan Rendall and I joined with our international counterparts in exploring globalisation, one of the most widely documented and controversial developments on the contemporary global landscape.

Through the launch of a new website, www. thesydneyglobalist.org, we look forward to delivering The Sydney Globalist to an ever-widening readership. Our continuing expansion would not be possible without the generosity of our sponsors: the Department of Government and International Relations, the Faculty of Economics and Business and the University of Sydney Union. We are immeasurably grateful for their support.

Yours in global affairs,

Christine Ernst

Editor-in-Chief

The Echoes of History: Human Rights in the 21st Century

Christopher Beshara surveys the recent history of human rights with a view to the future.

As a student of history, I cling to the hackneyed notion that examining the past helps humankind chart a way forward. Applying that maxim to human rights in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the future looks grim. Broadly speaking, the international rule of law faced three enemies during the last turbulent century: excessive respect for state sovereignty, unbridled moral relativism, and a brand of diplomacy that prioritised compromise and impunity over global justice. While the continuing 2003 Iraq War signals the erosion of the first, albeit counter-productively, the others remain alive and well.

After the dust of the Second World War had settled, and with the images of Belsen and Auschwitz still fresh in their minds, national leaders took up the cause of international law with gusto – or, so it seemed. Building upon the framework of the defunct League of Nations, the United Nations (UN) was established in 1945. As some of the most serious international law proposals since the 1648 Treaty of Westphalia, whose dogmatic emphasis on state sovereignty perhaps did more harm than good, the 1945 Charter of the United Nations and the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) were fateful documents for the human rights cause. The latter’s status as a non-binding declaration, as opposed to a binding statement of international law, was an ominous sign of things to come. As it turned out, politicians were all too willing to sign a whole host of documents championing human rights, provided that compliance was ultimately optional.

Of course, there were some idealists among the cynics. Raphael Lemkin, whose Jewish family suffered at the hands of the Schutzstaffel, undoubtedly took ‘never again’ to heart when drafting the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide, signed months after the UDHR. The central difference with this document was that it legally bound its signatories, ultimately facilitating the establishment of ad hoc tribunals to prosecute international malefactors. The 1949 Geneva Conventions rounded out the triumvirate of human rights documentation. With enforcement mechanisms in place, all that remained was the test of time.

But the passage of time itself was problematic. Images of Belsen and Auschwitz were no longer fresh in the minds of political juggernauts. Instead, the United States was anxious to ensure that, quite apart from Somalia, no more American soldiers came home in body bags, even if their deaths were in the name of humanitarian intervention. Such flagrant self-interest rendered the 1994 Rwandan genocide a near certainty. –‘Genocide’- had become an unspeakable word despite the obligations of states under the Convention. Compounding the problem was the sanctity with which state sovereignty was still regarded, notwithstanding the myriad atrocities committed in its name. To give but one example, President Bush Senior, in a misguided gesture of respect for territorial sovereignty, ordered General Schwarzkopf to halt his march to Baghdad in 1991.

And yet, we can still trace most of the problems of human rights protection in the twenty-first century back to the seminal proclamations of the last century. In justifying the 2003 Iraq War, the Bush Administration disingenuously interpreted Article 51 of the UN Charter as enshrining the right to “anticipatory self-defence”, despite the contrary opinions of international lawyers. Among Asian, African and Latin American nations that continue to flout international laws, we hear protestations that inalienable human rights are inherently Western concepts, biased towards liberal democracies and insensitive to cultural differences. The argument rings hollow given that these very nations were involved in drafting the 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, which embodies so many of the second-generation rights that socialist and non-Western nations hold dear.

Given this bleak track record, what might the future hold for human rights? For one thing, the UN cannot bear the brunt of human rights enforcement. Bodies such as the Human Rights Committee are only able to express tentative legal ‘views’ on human rights abuses, and can only investigate specific allegations against signatories to the Optional Protocol of the ICCPR. The system of periodic state reports on human rights progress is little more than a quixotic exchange of paper.

The real promise for the international rule of law lies in judicial bodies. No doubt the International Criminal Court serves as a deterrent to would-be malefactors, with Chief Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo recently urging Iraq to ratify the Rome Statute so that President Bush might be brought up on crimes against humanity. Unthinkable? Undoubtedly, given that the U.S. is actively undermining the Rome Statute with Bilateral Immunity Agreements. But while neo-realist realities will always serve as a barrier to human rights enforcement, the visions of an idealistic few might yet alleviate the suffering of many.

Christopher James Beshara is in his third year of a combined degree in Arts and Law, majoring in History

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Naomi Hart explains why petition and forced migration are not the solution to Iraq’s problems.

In September 2007, three-quarters of the United States Senate voted in favour of a resolution stating that Iraq has broken up and cannot be put back together. Yea-voting Senators approved of dividing Iraq into separate Shia, Sunni and Kurdish states – either wholly independent of each other, or co-existing in the loosest of confederations – to maintain peace between the ethnic groups.

Opponents of partition highlight numerous drawbacks to carving Iraq into pieces. It would be immensely difficult to define the states’ borders and to divide Baghdad in a way that satisfied all three sects, and to ensure that all three states were economically viable, given that three-quarters of Iraq’s oil reserves are located in the would-be Shiite state in the south. The threat of conflict between the new states would be omnipresent. And the wisdom of defining three states according to ethno-religious identities is questionable: ill-defined ethno-religious identity would itself become an inevitable source of conflict within the states.

But a critical obstacle would arise even before the new states were formed: the transfer of populations between them. Although Shiites predominate in the country’s south, Sunnis in the west and Kurds in the northeast, no region is ethnically homogenous. In urban areas, especially cities such as Baghdad, Kirkuk and Mosul, there are no clear geographical boundaries separating the groups. Dividing these cities, or allocating them wholly to a prospective state, would force tens of thousands of Iraqis to move from their homes to a state prescribed, somewhat arbitrarily, by ethnicity. Such transfers could be legally mandated as a term in the partition contract, or Iraqis could be unofficially compelled to emigrate out of fear of persecution by the ethnic majority.

Movement of such large populations is perilous. Following the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, hundreds of thousands of internally displaced people undergoing ‘transfer’ under the partition agreement died from fatigue or were killed because they were mistakenly diverted through conflict zones. Ideally, personnel overseeing population transfers in Iraq – American, NATO or EU troops or UN peacekeepers – could choose a route that would avoid hotspots. But in a country as incendiary as Iraq, no third party can guarantee that they will identify every danger to people travelling between the new states. Misinterpretations are common in countries ravaged by civil strife, like Iraq.

Even if a secure route could be plotted reliably, providing sufficient personnel, food, shelter and medical supplies to make the actual journey possible entails exorbitant costs. Following the unofficial partition of Cyprus in 1974, the transfer of Greek and Turkish Cypriots, in numbers similar to those who would be forced to emigrate in Iraq, required an investment of $U.S.22 million per annum for five years and an extra $U.S.10 million per annum for the next 20 years. If donor fatigue set in – and Congress is already weary of Bush’s war expenses – then people midway through their journey would be left isolated without resources or support.

Equally significant is the immeasurable personal cost to those who are forced to relocate. Acquiring compensation for property loss is complicated and protracted. Despite the unique efficiency of the Property Law Implementation Plan in Bosnia-Herzegovina, it will take 20 years to process all the claims by Serbs who lost property in the now Bosnian-Croat Federation, and 40 years for Bosniacs and Croatians who lost theirs in the now Serb Republic. Compensation programs in Iraq would be even more complex because of the difficulties of ascertaining exactly who lost property, and just how much they lost, during and since the devastating 2003 occupation.

There are also costs that simply cannot be quantified. Iraqis forced to relocate would lose their homes, business networks and relations within a community, and would face joblessness, food insecurity and homelessness. For centuries, the ancient city of Samarra, situated in the now Sunni-dominated Salahaddin province, has attracted thousands of Shia pilgrims. No amount of reimbursement could compensate for their loss if the new Sunni state severed their connection to that land. The trauma they would experience could only inflame relations between the prospective Sunni and Shia states.

Iraq’s break-up, and the concomitant population relocations, are not the inevitable outcomes of ethnically-based civil strife. Countries like Spain and post-conflict Rwanda demonstrate that previously hostile ethnic groups can co-exist when their security is guaranteed and satisfactory power-sharing models are developed. Already conflict in Iraq has declined as the surge of American troops improves security and Iraqis of different ethnicities recognise that their greatest enemies are not each other but foreign terrorist groups. Compelling tens of thousands of Iraqis to immigrate to ethnically-defined states would be a step in the wrong direction.

Naomi Hart is in her fourth year of a combined degree in Arts and Law. She is currently undertaking honours in Modern History

Yesterday’s Colonialism, Today

Anshu De Silva Wijeyeratne compares how Britain and Australia have reconciled national pride with a troubled historical record.

In his seminal piece, Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson describes the nation as an ‘imagined community’. In contrast to an ‘actual’ community based on regular face-to-face interaction between its members, the nation’s citizens are unified in thought: “In the minds of each lives the image of their communion.” This fictitious community can be defined in opposition to the ‘state’, a politico-legal order requiring, rather than inspiring, obedience through its monopoly on coercive power.

However, states and nations are not mutually exclusive. Modernist writers suggest that states foster the unifying effect of national identity to promote social stability. A continuous process of re-imagination is required to ensure the nation’s relevance in its citizens’ hearts and minds. In both Australia and the United Kingdom, a hotly debated aspect of this identity has been the legacy of colonialism. States’ responses have diverged greatly, with mixed results.

Attitudes towards colonialism have changed markedly. Initially, colonialism was viewed as the hallmark of great powers. As well as being the source of national prestige and wealth, colonisation was seen as part of the `white man’s burden’ to improve `backward,’ non-European civilisations. However, revisionist accounts highlighting national fragmentation, disease, exploitation and even genocide, have been difficult to accommodate within national stories.

Slowly but surely, Australia appears to have reached a consensus. As early as the 1930s, over 100 indigenous people organized an `Official Day of Mourning’ to demand recognition of their losses and equal rights. The 1967 Referendum on citizenship rights was resoundingly successful. Writers such as Henry Reynolds heeded the call to end the ‘Great Australian Silence’ on the indigenous story. In 1993, the High Court’s Mabo decision overturned the legal justification of terra nullius. Most poignantly, the 1997 Bringing Them Home report shocked the public conscience, thus putting an apology firmly on the national agenda.

Leading politicians, including former Prime Minister John Howard, and academics like Geoffrey Blainey, have condemned the left’s supposed ‘black armband’ view of history. Howard claimed that it “reflects a belief that most Australian history… has been little more than a disgraceful story of imperialism, exploitation, racism, sexism and other forms of discrimination”.

Nonetheless, Kevin Rudd’s electoral success indicated a shift in community sentiment. Rudd’s apology received bi-partisan support in parliament and was approved by 68 per cent of Australians, according to a Galaxy Research Poll in February 2008. This has vindicated the view that an apology was required to express a national desire for forgiveness and reconciliation. Whether this new, re-imagined identity will lead to constructive developments in overcoming the significant welfare chasm is yet to be seen. Regardless, it indicates that reconciliation has found a primary place within Australia’s national story.

In contrast, Britain’s discourse has been far less conciliatory. As in Australia, British politicians have placed national identity at the forefront of the political agenda. However, this has been driven by a politics of fear. Concerns about segregation and homegrown terrorism have led to a need for what former Home Secretary Jack Straw describes as “a set of values that have not just to be shared” but are “non-negotiable”. British leaders on both sides of the political divide have echoed Howard’s `black armband’ comments. Straw’s successor as Home Secretary, David Blunkett, commented that “we have tended to downplay our culture and we need to reinforce pride in what we have.” Opposition leader, David Cameron, noted that British schools should avoid politically correct criticisms of empire, so that all children are taught to be proud of British values and history.

Whilst national unity is important, problems occur when national pride overrides a balanced and accurate historical narrative. Political commentator Arun Kundnani notes how the Life in the United Kingdom Handbook portrays how Britain brought more regular, acceptable and impartial systems of law and order to their colonies and unified disparate tribal areas. It neglects to mention the massacres and colonial abuses that are undeniable fact. Such a state-sanctioned narrative is divisive. Kundnani suggests that becoming a British citizen is transformed into “an initiation into a superior civilization.” This is particularly problematic given that former colonies are a major source of prospective citizens.

National identity is a powerful, yet abstract, force. Its potency has been recognised by states and utilised as a tool of social cohesion. However, with this power comes great responsibility. In Australia, recognition of how a common understanding could help heal the wounds of the past has removed a significant symbolic obstacle to practical solutions to indigenous issues. In contrast, security concerns in the United Kingdom have led to a one-sided narrative that, ironically, is likely to generate even greater divisions within British society.

Anshu De Silva Wijeyeratne is in his second year of a combined degree in Law and International Studies, majoring in Government and International Relations

West Papua’s Search for Independence

Paul Ferris reflects upon the West Papuans‘ protracted struggle for self-determination.

As the struggle in Tibet continues to make international headlines, many other groups continue to fight for independence outside the media spotlight. One such group is the people of West Papua.

‘West Papua’, as the would-be nation is known by independence supporters, is located on the western half of the island of New Guinea. Since a sham vote in the 1960s, the region has been a province of Indonesia.

Faced with widespread human rights and environmental abuses at the hand of the Indonesian government and military, West Papuans have struggled for 40 years for their right to self-determination. Their aspirations have not, however, been realised. Caught between historical realities, a powerful Indonesian state and military, trans-national corporations, and an international community already saturated with similar stories, the West Papuan people have been denied the opportunity to determine their own political and economic destinies.

A Colonial History

Since World War Two, international law has recognised the right to self-determination. Largely an attempt to eradicate the causes of future wars, the right was eminently concerned with decolonisation.

West Papua was incorporated into the Dutch empire in 1828 as Dutch New Guinea. While administered as part of the larger Dutch East Indies from 1898, it remained a separate colony. West Papua’s remoteness meant that for many, the Dutch colonisation had little meaning.

In the Dutch East Indies, however, an Indonesian nationalist movement was growing. During World War Two, the occupying Japanese army actively encouraged pro-independence sentiment in return for support of the Japanese war effort.

Sukarno emerged as an important independence leader, and following the Japanese surrender in 1945, he unilaterally declared independence from the Netherlands. Dutch attempts to re-establish their colony in the Dutch East Indies ended in 1949 with recognition of Indonesian independence.

Dutch New Guinea, however, was expressly excluded. In part, this was due to recognition by the Dutch that West Papua was geographically, ethnically and historically distinct from Indonesia and should exercise self-determination.

The indigenous peoples of West Papua are Melanesian, residents of New Guinea for over 35,000 years. Outside West Papua the Indonesian population is predominately Austronesian, a group who arrived in eastern Indonesia relatively recently, at around 4000 years ago. While the indigenous West Papuan population is overwhelmingly Christian, Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world.

Throughout the 1950s, the Dutch continued to administer West Papua as a colony, while preparing the territory for decolonisation. A Papuan Council was elected and installed in 1961, and the Morning Star was adopted as the Papuan flag. The Netherlands continued to advocate for Papuan self-determination in the United Nations (UN).

Self-determination Frustrated

As with so many secessionist movements, West Papua’s struggle is still very much a legacy of the Cold War. In order to bring Indonesia into the American fold, in 1962, President John F. Kennedy brokered the New York Agreement between the Dutch, Americans and Indonesians. It effectively placed West Papua under Indonesian control with a vague commitment that the West Papuans would be given the opportunity to “exercise freedom of choice” at some later date.

By the time the Act of Free Choice took place in 1969, the Indonesian military was already in West Papua in force, and victims numbered in the thousands. As the U.S. Ambassador to Indonesia observed, 85 to 90 per cent of West Papuans were in favour of an independent nation, yet the 1969 vote was unanimously in favour of remaining a part of Indonesia.

Only 1000 delegates, handpicked by the Indonesians, were allowed to vote. Rather than conducting the vote by secret ballot, the Indonesians brought the delegates together and made them vote in the open and at gunpoint. Those deemed likely to protest were thrown in gaol.

In his extensive 2005 study of the vote, commissioned by the Dutch Government, Professor Pieter Drooglever called the delegates a “press-ganged electorate”. Chakravarthy Narasimhan, a retired UN Undersecretary-General, has gone so far as to call the vote a “whitewash”. And yet, the UN continues to accept the vote as a valid exercise of self-determination.

Occupation and Resistance

In the 40 years since, the Indonesian presence and Papuan resistance has continued. While never erupting into all-out war, the militant Free Papua Movement (Organisasi Papua Merdeka or OPM) has waged a steady campaign against the occupation since the 1960s, with overwhelming support from the indigenous population.

The situation can be confusing, with a myriad of separate independence groups and Indonesian-sponsored militias involved. The Indonesian militias also routinely impersonate the OPM and other groups for strategic advantages.

The number of Papuan deaths by Indonesia is estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands. A 2003 report by the Allard K. Lowenstein International Human Rights Clinic at Yale Law School concluded that the term ‘genocide’ was an accurate description of Indonesian activities in West Papua.

Indonesia has also sought to weaken Papua’s position by encouraging mass Indonesian migration. Native Papuans comprised 96 per cent of the population in 1971. Today, they comprise only 59 per cent.

A growing AIDS epidemic is also taking its toll. Numerous studies have found that heavy involvement by the Indonesian military in the sex worker industry is fuelling the crisis, and Agus Alua, of the Papuan People’s Council, argues that the spread of the epidemic is tantamount to a deliberate, if unofficial, government strategy.

Special Autonomy Fails

The fall of President Suharto in 1998 raised hopes of a resolution to the conflict. Subsequent presidents publicly committed themselves to greater Papuan autonomy, and in September 2001 ‘special autonomy’ legislation was introduced, allowing for partial self-rule and a greater share of profits from West Papua’s resources.

But this hope was short-lived. Coupled with a major increase in troop numbers, Indonesia split West Papua into two separate provinces in 2003, now called Papua and West Papua. Indonesia’s own Constitutional Court has ruled that the split violates the special autonomy provisions.

Self-rule remains a practical dead weight. In 2001, the President of the newly-formed Papuan Council was murdered by military personnel. The soldiers responsible received gaol sentences of just two years. The International Crisis Group estimates there are now 15,000 Indonesian troops in Papua.

In violation of Special Autonomy, the raising of the Morning Star flag is still treated as a criminal offence. West Papuans are routinely arrested and imprisoned for this act.

Gold and Gas

Transnational corporations are key actors in the West Papuan saga. Until now, the rich natural resources of West Papua have been a curse when they should have provided substantial wealth to an independent nation. “The Indonesian government and its military have denied the West Papuans control of their political destiny, and the Indonesian-allied transnational corporations have denied them their due economic autonomy.”

One prominent case is that of the Freeport-McMoran-operated Grasberg gold and copper mine – the largest in the world and partly owned by Australian-listed Rio Tinto a mine with an appalling record of environmental and human rights abuse.

The mine was approved by the Indonesian government in the early 1960s, at a time when West Papua remained an independent colony outside of Indonesian jurisdiction. The project progressed rapidly following the Indonesian annexation.

The mine generates 230,000 tonnes of tailings (pulverised waste rock) a day, which are dumped directly into the river system. According to the company’s own report, this has made the river system “unsuitable for aquatic life.” The tailings have decimated the rainforest ecosystem across countless hectares and destroyed the indigenous Amungme’s source of subsistence.

Despite a ministry finding that the mine breaches criminal provisions of Indonesia’s own environmental laws, the stakes are too high for Jakarta to back down. The government directly owns a nine per cent stake in the mine, and income from the mine accounts for a full two per cent of Indonesia’s gross domestic product.

Indigenous West Papuans bear the costs of the mine without getting a fair slice of the rewards or any say in its operation. Underlying anger boiled over in 1996, with three days of rioting and $AUD3 million worth of damage to the mine’s equipment. In response, Freeport now dedicates one per cent of revenue to a local development fund. Unwilling to change its fundamental practices, Freeport remains the subject of considerable local anger.

In order to suppress such anger, Freeport paid the Indonesian military to act as a private security force for the mine. Between 1998 and 2004, Freeport made at least $U.S.30 million in backhand payment to the Indonesian military. Freeport attempted to justify such payments as “ordinary business activities” necessary to provide a secure working environment in the mine.

While such payments are illegal, the Indonesian army is responsible for finding 60 per cent of its funding independently, and so corruption is widespread and tolerated. The fact that low-level Indonesian soldiers are not paid a living wage only increases the incentives for abuse.

“We never feel secure there”, says Thom Beanal, a tribal leader and independence supporter. The payments are designed to ensure ‘business as usual’ for Freeport. The Australian Council for Overseas Aid and Humans Rights Watch have documented the military’s widespread use of torture, kidnappings and murder at the mine and across West Papua.

BP, a more recent player, is in the process of developing their Bintuni Bay natural gas project. BP is claiming that they do things differently. In 2000, they went so far as to fund the pro-independence Papua Council, and budgeted £30 million for social development, resettlement and security over six years.

Yet half of this money is set aside for outside “consultants” and administration. Of the 500 permanent jobs created by the operation, only 50 are expected to be Papuan.

“Everything we feared when BP came to the area has come true,” reported one community leader.

BP’s unavoidable co-operation with the occupying Indonesian authorities has compromised their pro-Papuan goals from the outset. It is the latest development in a long story.

Conclusion

The history and struggle of West Papua should be the basis of a successful claim for self-determination within the international community. Instead, the power realities that emerge from West Papuan history act to deny the people this fundamental right. Indonesia has too much to lose to let go of West Papua without a fight, and so the occupation and political suppression continue, along with the loss of economic control that informs the daily realities of the dire situation. It is a deeply human tragedy.

Though the case for independence remains impossible to deny on moral grounds, for West Papuans it remains a distant dream. Nonetheless, the same could have been said of East Timor not long ago.

Paul Ferris is in his fourth year of a combined Arts and Law degree, majoring in History.

Nation Building: A Roadmap to Peace?

Robbie Nakarmi discusses the inherent difficulties associated with nation-building.

Development has emerged as one of the most challenging issues of our time. There are some nations that require enormous quantities of aid, not only for economic but also political and social reconstruction. The process of assisting these nations can be called nation-building, which is a crucial way of reinforcing, or creating, the fabric of a peaceful international order.

Nation-building usually involves intervention in the internal workings of a state, and is often the result of regime change, whether wrought through military means or otherwise. It is a process that reconstructs a society damaged by internal conflict, with the aim of bringing stability to that country.

Nation-building has existed since colonial times, but with limited success. What is needed to achieve greater success? Given the hundreds of billions of dollars spent by the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan, it is clear that it is not the amount of the investment that determines whether political and social stability is achieved.

International assistance is needed to bring about better government, a more stable state, and economic and social development in a country struggling to recover from strife. The U.S. has increasingly seen nation-building as an element of foreign policy, with Afghanistan and Iraq being the most recent, dramatic and controversial examples. However, with continued domestic political opposition to increased spending on these countries, the U.S. and their allies have had problems achieving progress in nation-building projects like Iraq and Afghanistan.

In a well-known 2004 article entitled ‘Nation-Building 101’ published in the Atlantic magazine, the American political scientist Francis Fukuyama said that “[c]ountries have to be able to construct state institutions not just within their own borders but in other more disorganised and dangerous countries as well…we insist that we are promoting democracy, self-government and human rights…the art of state-building will be a key component of national power.”

Democracy has been central to the rhetoric of the U.S. and its allies since the Second World War, although what the term actually entails is sometimes unclear. What is clear, however, is that whenever the U.S. and its allies embark on a nation-building exercise, one of the most prominent rationales given is the ‘spreading of democracy.’

Dominik Zaum stated in his 2007 work, The Sovereignty Paradox, that “one of the most basic issues is whether democracy is a matter of institutions or of values, or some combination of both.” How does one measure the degree of progress towards democracy? Is democracy defined by processes, such as free elections, or by outcomes, such as enhanced human rights?

In practice, elections are favoured as a significant indicator, no doubt because they are concrete, observable, quantitatively measurable and achievable in the short term. The intervening powers in Afghanistan and Iraq have presented the establishment of free and democratic elections as evidence of the legitimacy of nation-building.

However, the simple event of an election says nothing about the conditions of the election, or the consequences, including the behaviour of the victors. What happens if a government unfriendly to the nation-builder wins? Washington’s decision to impose sanctions against Hamas, the legitimate victor of the 2006 Palestinian elections, sits uncomfortably with the United States’ purported commitment to the democratisation of the region. Based on this record, it is unlikely that the U.S. Government would tolerate the election of an anti-American, Islamic theocratic government in Iraq.

At any rate, even free elections do not necessarily make a free nation. People need a sense of hope, venues for wide participation in political decision-making, expanded civil liberties and tangible improvements in their lives. These qualities are hardly likely to emerge directly from external intervention, especially where military intervention by the nation-builder has had devastating effects on the native population. ‘Tangible’ benefits sound simple, but usually require major construction (or reconstruction) of infrastructure, such as roads, and water and sewerage systems, which require planning, time and a huge investment of capital.

What should both donors and recipients of development aid be careful to integrate into nation-building initiatives? Three important factors come to the fore. The first is ownership. Donor nations should build on the leadership, participation and commitment of a country and its people. A country must determine its own development needs and objectives. The role of a donor is to support, not to control, the process by which these goals are obtained.

Second, capacity-building is crucial. Donors can help to strengthen local institutions and transfer technical assets and knowledge to assist the host nation to establish effective policy and deliver adequate public services. Through capacity-building, the country is eventually able to retain and utilise economic resources, whether they come from donor aid or foreign direct investment.

Finally, sustainability is essential. Aid programs have to be designed so that their impact endures, and development should ensure a balance between economic and social objectives. Donor nations should consider whether the particular technology or institution they are introducing to a nation-building process will have a lasting and positive effect.

There is active debate about the legitimacy and feasibility of nation-building. Critics argue that it is presumptive and interventionist to suppose that outsiders can build nations or spread democracy and that these nation-builders infringe upon the sovereignty of other states. They argue that the nation-builders presume a proven and successful capacity for political and institutional engineering that is unjustified by history or contemporary events. However, it is clear to both the advocates and the critics of nation-building that, although they may disagree on the form of aid required, doing nothing when nations need serious assistance would be catastrophic to international peace.

Robbie Nakarmi is in his second year of a Graduate Law degree.

Missing Women

Holly Norrie uncovers the plight of women left behind by development.

It has been 18 years since welfare economist Amartya Sen first made the chilling claim that over 100 million women worldwide are missing. According to a 2007 report for the United Nations Committee on the Situation of Women, 100 million women are simply unaccounted for, their lives cut short by the widespread gender biases that continue to pervade the developing world.

In the developed world, where men and women receive equal access to food, medicine and health care, women on average make up 52 per cent of the population and the ratio of women to men is roughly 1.04. This is taken as the ‘benchmark’ sex ratio, because with equal treatment, women tend to live longer. Yet in many developing countries, this ratio is as low as 0.94, meaning one woman is missing for every 100 people.

The consequences of this disturbing gender imbalance are grave. Alarming increases in violence against women, rape, polygamy and the kidnapping and trafficking of women and girls, have all been attributed to a serious deficit of women in parts of East Asia, South Asia and the Middle East.

So why are these women missing? The World Bank and the UN agree that women suffer the adversities of poverty disproportionately. In developing countries where resources are scarce, women often lose out on access to food, medicine, health care and education. This cumulative neglect is manifested in higher female mortality rates. For example, twice as many girls die from diarrhoea than boys in poor suburbs in New Delhi.

Gender violence in strongly patriarchal societies is also a major culprit. A preference for boys in countries such as China, India, Taiwan, South Korea, Pakistan and Bangladesh, has recently been manifested in increased rates of female infanticide and sex selective abortion. In these heavily populated countries, the birth of a boy is seen as a source of pride and financial security, largely because sons are believed to be more likely to support their elderly parents.

The culturally entrenched preference for boys is exacerbated by traditional dowry systems and population control measures like China’s One Child Policy. Despite prohibition by law in 1961, demanding a dowry remains common in rural India and has been blamed for increases in the abandonment, murder and abortion of female babies. Indeed, one Mumbai abortion clinic displayed the slogan, “Better pay 500 rupiahs now than 50,000 rupiahs later”, in reference to a 50,000 rupiah dowry.

With a combined population of 2.5 billion people and a low sex ratio of 0.94, China and India are responsible for the majority of the world’s missing women. This disturbing gender deficit has grown despite the rapid economic development in both countries over the past 30 years. An estimated 80 million women are currently missing in China and India. As incomes rise and sex detection technologies become widespread, sex selective abortions are increasing dramatically. In India, the government reported that 2 million foetuses are aborted annually because they are female.

For those who cannot pay, infanticide and abandonment become the only ways to exercise a preference for sons. The UN Population Fund reports thousands of cases of infanticide each year, especially in parts of India where dowries are high enough to bankrupt some families. Parents blame poverty, with one mother who poisoned her baby with tobacco leaves claiming, “If I could have clothed, fed and given the baby a decent life, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

The perception of girls as a financial burden appears to be the main motive behind the preference for boys in India and China. Policies that lessen this perceived burden have had extremely positive affects on sex ratios. The state of Kerala in India is renowned for its generous welfare system, in which the government bears most health care and education costs. Despite being relatively underdeveloped, Kerala has India’s lowest gender deficit, with a sex ratio of 1.03 almost on par with the 1.04 benchmark. In contrast, Punjab and Haryana, two of India’s richest states, have sex ratios as low as 0.86 – four million missing women.

Increasing female employment opportunities have also been instrumental in decreasing female mortality. A study by Nancy Qian found that the gender deficit is practically non-existent in tea-producing regions in China, where women‘s smaller frames give them a comparative advantage in picking tea, and the majority of tea plantation workers are women. Qian concludes that “increasing relative adult female income has an immediate and positive effect on survival rates for girls.”

Development policies need to target entrenched gender biases and actively work to improve sex ratios. In particular, the economic disempowerment which renders female children a financial burden must be addressed through increased employment opportunities. Without this, the world’s 100 million missing women will never be found.

Holly Norrie is in her third year of an Economics and Social Sciences degree, majoring in Political Economy and Government and International Relations.

United States: An Unstable Hegemon

Kristen Hammond explores the paradox of unbridled power.

The Beginning of the End?

Ronald Reagan said of America in his inaugural address: “We have every right to dream heroic dreams. We are too great a nation to limit ourselves to small dreams.” Today, many would argue that these “heroic dreams” have been realised.

As the world’s unrivalled superpower, the United States has the largest and most productive economy in the world, a stable political system based on the attractive ideals of democracy, and a military power that has reached proportions unlike anything the world has ever seen.

However, over the last decade, anti-American sentiment has been stirring, culminating in the horror of September 11, 2001. This tragedy was the catalyst for radical changes in the U.S. assertion of power, with a new, aggressive and fiercely unilateralist form of foreign policy swiftly adopted by President George Bush’s administration.

This exercise of ‘hard’ or coercive power, at the expense of ‘soft’ power capabilities, may result in the demise of the first empire of the 21st century.

Hard and Soft Power

The dichotomy between ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ power is perhaps the most relevant geopolitical issue of the current global paradigm. In an unstable, unipolar world, failure to achieve a balance between the two facets could be devastating to the U.S. and the world order.

The term ‘soft power’ was coined by Joseph Nye in reference to political influence based not on threats of coercion, but rather on the espousal of attractive values, culture and institutions. Joshua Kurlantzick simplified the effect as: “If I can get you to do what I want, then I do not have to force you.” When soft power declines, it is usually replaced by its polar opposite, hard power, or the exercise of influence through coercive means.

The Bush administration has appeared to delight in its rejection of the Clinton administration’s preferred use of soft power, instead emphasising dominance through militaristic means. In addition to embarking on massive military campaigns in both Iraq and Afghanistan, the U.S. has threatened several states, including Iran, with military action.

Why Soft Power is Needed

The rise of hard power has had dire consequences for American hegemony. Once a charismatic world leader, viewed as both a thriving economy and a respected democracy, the U, S. is more often perceived now as an antisocial, belligerent state.

Doomsayers like Michael Mann argue that if the American empire continues along its current path, it will ultimately fail. The implications for the international community are obvious. In addition to providing strong leadership in a fragmented world, the United States has traditionally been one of the most active proponents of democracy, human rights and economic prosperity.

One may ask why the exercise of coercive rather than soft power has such serious geopolitical ramifications. Charles S. Maier argues that “empires function by virtue of the prestige they radiate as well as by might, and indeed collapse if they rely on force alone.” The flexing of military might alone has diminished that prestige and cemented America’s reputation as an illegitimate sheriff that shoots first and asks questions later.

In addition, the forces of globalisation have made soft power more necessary than ever before. In a largely borderless world, hard power is of very limited effectiveness in achieving compliance with international law, human rights norms and the non-proliferation of nuclear, chemical and biological weapons.

American legitimacy has been further challenged by its own flouting of the ‘non-negotiables’ of the U.S. model, such as human rights, the rule of law, religious freedom and equality for women. The U.S. claims to lead by example, yet refuses to sign important treaties dealing with human rights or partake in instruments for their enforcement, like the International Criminal Court. Likewise, the unfortunate excesses associated with the War on Terror, such as Guantanamo Bay, have proved damaging for America’s image as a bastion of freedom.

The War on Terror

Indeed, the shift away from soft power has been accelerated rapidly by the War on Terror. It is difficult to imagine that military intervention in Iraq and Afghanistan would have occurred outside the context of combating terrorism; 9/11, too, has often been invoked by President Bush to justify the diminishing role of soft power in U.S. foreign policy.

The invasion of Iraq was a profound statement regarding America’s new leanings toward hard power. The world’s superpower demonstrated a willingness to act unilaterally in international relations regardless of the norms, conventions and treaties underlying international law. Such dramatic use of hard power was couched in the language of democratisation. Robert Singh has labelled this phenomenon, “democracy by gunpoint”.

The reaction to the subsequent imbalance in the soft/hard power dichotomy has been acute. The Bush Doctrine transformed what was a sympathetic global community in 2001, into a deeply divided world by 2004. Even in America, President Bush’s approval rating has fallen from 90 per cent in the months following 9/11, to 28 per cent this year.

The Crossroads

For now, the U.S. has enough military power, as well as a lack of current serious challengers, to rule the world on hard power alone. But this is not a viable long-term strategy. The U.S. now finds itself in dangerous territory. Weakening American influence and the rise of new world leaders such as China and India could mean that the global political landscape may be radically altered in the years to come.

U.S. military power may be impressive; but hegemony, as Thomas McCormick notes, is not simply the power to vanquish enemies, but the ability to translate that influence into friends and allies. Hard power is fundamentally volatile and if 9/11 taught us anything, it was that there is no such thing as absolute military security.

In contrast, soft power is generally stabilising. For example, as is expressed by the ‘Golden Arches’ theory, no two countries in which McDonald’s outlets exist, have ever gone to war.

Arguably, the world is once again at a crossroads. As America prepares for an election and emerging powers China and India continue to quietly develop their soft power capabilities and, to a lesser extent, their military might, an air of uncertainty lingers. We could be on the cusp of multipolarity. There are now alternatives to the American model.

It would be unrealistic to suggest that the U.S. should completely withdraw itself from deep involvement in global politics. Furthermore, the answer is not as simple as replacing Bush with Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton or John McCain.

Is it too late to save the American empire? At this stage, maybe not. For re-stabilisation to occur, U.S. soft power capabilities must be brought into line with the logistics of conflict.

The U.S. must move away from rigid militarism, toward a more multilateral regime. The European Union, China, and perhaps even the Middle East, would clearly benefit from increased autonomy over their own affairs. The United States must begin to recommit itself to espousing core values such as democracy, human rights and international law by leading by example.

Kristen Hammond is in her third year of a combined degree in Arts and Law, majoring in Government and International Relations.

One Dream, One China?

Peter Yeldham analyses the nexus between the Olympic Games and human rights in China.

The Debate Inflaming the Olympics

Despite superb logistical and outstanding event organisation, the Beijing Olympics is in trouble. Stephen Spielberg has withdrawn, on moral grounds, as artistic director for the opening ceremony of the games. And the Chinese authorities’ tight grip on national media has ensured that most Chinese citizens have not found out.

The one newspaper that carried the story, the Global Times, noted that Western exploitation of the Olympics to pressure China, immediately provoked much disgust among ordinary Chinese people.” As the Olympics draw closer, expect the robust crackdown on dissent to continue.

Almost a decade after its failure to win the 2000 Olympic Games, largely because of concerns over China’s human rights record and fresh memories of Tiananmen Square, Beijing was awarded the 2008 Olympics. The Chinese authorities promised to advance China’s social agenda, including human rights standards, and acknowledged that protests would be inevitable.

If the protests that have plagued the torch relay thus far are any indication of what is to follow, it is evident that this pledge has not been well received by the wider global community. The Beijing Games have already been dubbed the ‘Genocide Olympics’ or the ‘Saffron Olympics’ by media outlets and civil rights watchdogs around the world.

Moises Naim, Editor-in-Chief of Foreign Policy, suggests that “the clashes outside the stadiums are likely to be more intense and spectacular than the sports competitions taking place on the inside.” Thus, opposition in and outside of China is the greatest hurdle facing the Beijing Organising Committee , who must now find the best way to respond to it.

Should the Olympic Games be the Focus of Political Debate?

Australian swimming hero, Susie O’Neil, recently pondered, “I just get a little bit angry when people use the Olympics as their protesting forum. It is so removed from politics, so why do they use that?” As talented as Madame Butterfly may have been in the water, she clearly flounders in the world of political reality.

Her statement ignores the fact that every host nation uses the Olympics for political purposes. Moreover, the history of the modern Olympic Games is littered with examples of host countries, competing nations, terrorist groups and athletes, using the Olympics as an opportunity to pursue their own political agenda.

The emerging story of the Olympic torch relay as a Nazi propaganda tool is one such example. So is the banning of South Africa from the 1964 Tokyo games, and the boycott of the Moscow and Los Angeles games. But these are by no means the only instances.

There is something about the Olympics which makes it a more attractive political platform than any other sporting event. It may relate to the patriotic support which follows most teams. Success is perceived not just as a measure of sporting prowess, but as an affirmation of the balance of power.

For example, during the Cold War the battle for supremacy on the medals table was perceived as a reflection of the battle between the two superpowers (assuming both countries showed up). While the Soccer World Cup is generally won by a team with a rare combination of technical precision, vision and flair (skills which cannot be bought), the Olympic medal table is routinely dominated by the world’s most powerful nations.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) has always perceived its primary duty as the maintenance of sporting excellence as a universal aspiration. As such, the Olympic Charter – the governing document of the IOC which sets out the principles and values of Olympism – is largely devoid of political language.

But the IOC President, Jacques Rogge, has publicly asked China to “respect the moral engagement” they made during their bid. The Chinese government has responded by asserting that the IOC should defend its commitment in the Olympic Charter to avoid “bringing in any irrelevant political factors.”

This is a shallow defence. The host country has always had an inherently political outlook. Chinese leaders sought the games as a way of legitimising their rule. Moreover, the IOC has never been that far removed from international relations. Even the governing law of the Olympics has been called upon as a means of venturing into international relations. The applications of East Germany and Taiwan to compete at the games posed such a challenge.

Was it a Mistake to Award Beijing the Olympics?

The hope was that the Olympics would do for China what they did for South Korea in 1988, when the country was run by a military dictatorship with an unpalatable human rights record. Since 1988, South Korea has flourished into a democracy and has noticeably improved relations with the global community.

Two strong arguments were made to support the awarding of the games to China. First, it was expected that awarding the games to Beijing would significantly reduce the chance of war across the Taiwan Strait. Taiwan in fact supported the Chinese Olympic bid. Second, it was hoped that it would increase the likelihood of substantive Chinese engagement with the West.

These reasons are sound. China’s membership of the WTO and its willingness to receive foreign dignitaries and open its markets to the West, have been of significant benefit.

But the true test of whether it was appropriate to award the games to Beijing is China’s commitment to respect human rights. Despite China having been dropped from the U.S. State Department’s list of the world’s ten worst human-rights violators, there is little evidence to suggest that human rights have improved since 2001.

The denial of religious freedom and the suppression of civil and political freedoms are of particular concern to human rights monitors. If not a mistake, it was recklessly quixotic of the IOC to think that the games would make a significant difference to the social agenda in China. Instead of helping to reform China’s social agenda, the lead-up to the games has provided a seven-year period where the Chinese leadership has simply practiced repression in quieter ways.

What the Olympics will do for China

Beijing’s proclaimed Olympic goals include enhancing China’s image as an open, civilised and harmonious country. China’s engagement with the issue of air pollution is commendable. Although a solution has been hard to find, the new-found willingness to tackle the problem is encouraging. With a new airport, revamped transport system and a plethora of quality venues, there are also certainly some benefits for the citizens of Beijing.

If the media focuses only on the sporting carnival, the image of China sent around the world will be of a civilised, well-planned and harmonious country. Particularly if national teams follow the example of the British Olympic Association, which earlier this year asked its athletes to sign contracts prohibiting them from protesting at the Olympics.

The Olympics continues to be an attractive marketing opportunity for some of the world’s largest companies. President George W. Bush, who has accepted his invitation to the opening ceremony, has consistently argued that trade is the best way to bring about human rights reform in China. The U.S. President has asserted that trade inherently brings greater personal and political freedoms.

Susan Ariel observed in World Policy Journal that Bush has elevated and simplified the trade-human rights relationship, by insisting that when American companies engage in sponsorship of the Olympics or ship goods to China, they are functionally “exporting freedom.” While some might accept this view, most serious observers know that promoting human rights requires considerable expertise in governance. It is probably fair to conclude that the ubiquitous display of the ‘Golden Arches’ will not bring much comfort to the people of Tibet.

If the battles outside the stadiums are as intense as projected, it is the protests that will be the lasting image of the games. Citizen journalism poses a considerable challenge for the organisers of the games. Even the most effective, centralised police force will struggle to stop a horde of protesters with blackberries and camera phones from sending eyewitness observations of the interaction between the authorities and activists around the world. Moreover, if the mainstream media is given a wide berth, citizen journalism will only increase.

The world, and China’s place in it, has changed significantly since the turn of the century. As one author suggests, this has made “the challenge for an authoritarian regime hosting the world games far greater than it might have imagined.”

Regardless of the mistakes of the past, Beijing is prepared to host what will be the most expensive and expansive games ever. If protests occur and the media is allowed a free reign, the celebration which was to mark China’s peaceful emergence as an affable global power is likely to instead lead to great discomfort for both the IOC and the Chinese government.

Peter Yeldham is in his third year of a Graduate Law degree. He has completed a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in History and Government and International Relations.