A New Direction For The UN?

Something interesting is happening at the United Nations. No, really. In March the Security Council passed resolution 2098 which substantially altered the nature of MONUSCO- the body’s largest and most expensive peacekeeping force. 

 Up until now, MONUSCO has been concerned primarily with protecting the civilian population of the Democratic Republic of the Congo from bands of rebel forces, but soon three infantry battalions, an artillery battalion and a special force and reconnaissance company will aim to neutralise the insurgents- principally the marauding M23 group.

Two factors precipitated the shift. First, the M23 has been gaining ground. The UN has talked about ‘waves of conflict’ sweeping East, further decreasing the Government’s control. Second, these forays have made MONUSCO look ineffective. Last winter, without firing a shot, the blue helmets ceded the city of Goma to the rebels. Unfortunately, this was not the mission’s first set back: in the past they have been accused of failing to protect civilians from atrocities. Thus, the beefed up mandate can be interpreted as an attempt to rescue MONUSCO’s reputation. 

Will it work? Well, there have already been teething problems. Although a quarter of the offensive troops are in place, bureaucratic wrangling and logistical issues have held up the rest. Announced in March, it is now estimated that it will be autumn before the ‘intervention brigade’ becomes fully operational. 

The delay gives M23 more time to prepare. Speaking to The Guardian last month, rebel Colonel Vianney Kazarama sounded bullish: ‘They will not know the terrain, our tactics, not even the local languages. It will take them weeks to organise. If they attack we will respond very quickly and with full force."

Yet, while it is clear that the UN has a job to, there is reason to be optimistic. Well armed and properly trained troops- the force will be composed of men primarily from Tanzania, Malawi, India, Uruguay and South Africa- should be able to take the fight to the M23. More, the presence of African forces increases the pressure on Rwanda to keep its nose clean. Last winter a UN report suggested that Kigali’s defence minister, General James Kabarebe, is in ultimate control of the M23. President Paul Kagame has called such accusations ‘ridiculous’, but he perhaps protests too much. 

The other consideration is the internal state of the rebels. In March, former M23 leader General Bosco Ntaganda surprisingly turned up at the US embassy in Rwanda and handed himself in. Now on trial at the international criminal court, General Ntaganda- known widely as The Terminator- raises some interesting questions: foremost among them what (or rather who) caused him to flee?

Fractures within the rebel group would boost the MONUSCO’s cause, even if the situation within the Congo remains grim. The Goma debacle of late last year no doubt triggered the tactical change—but no one expects the MONUSCO forces to have it easy.

How, for instance, would the UN respond if M23 targeted not the new, shiny ‘intervention brigade’, but the pre-existing peacekeeping forces? Would they close down the humanitarian mission, arm those troops or redouble efforts elsewhere? Things could get very complicated, very quickly. 

More broadly, the mission represents something of a litmus test for the UN. Previously, as with the overthrow of Gaddafi last spring, even when the Security Council has approved action the fighting has been outsourced to others. This time things are different. If the mission proves successful (it must be said that what constitutes success in such a war torn country remains unclear) then perhaps similar ventures will follow in its wake. On the other hand, failure would invite further questions regarding the purpose and effectiveness of the modern UN. 

The stakes, therefore, are high. Not only for the people of the Congo but for the Security Council as well. It will be interesting to see how the situation plays out.

Greece Experiences Its Annual Political Crisis, But Who Is Really Endangering Democracy?

Last week Greece experienced another political crisis. This year’s predicament — which for various reasons received much less international attention than the previous few — centred on the state broadcaster ERT. Just over a week ago, Prime Minister Antonis Samaras announced that it, and its three channels, would close down with immediate effect. ERT, which receives annual funding of €328 million (collected unusually via electricity bills), was a source of “incredible waste” and had to be drastically reformed. 

Thus, the government announced that 2,500 employees would lose their jobs (a figure which, after the involvement of the unions, rose to 2,700) and that a pared down state broadcaster would be introduced at a later, unspecified date. Cue howls of anguish: “A blow to democracy” fumed ERT newsreader Antonis Alafogiorgos; an “institutional coup” claimed leftwing opposition leader Alexis Tsipras. 

Certainly, the shutdown occurred at breakneck speed: ERT’s channels went black at 11pm on the day of announcement (an anchor, it was reported, was cut off mid-sentence).  Understandably, this inflamed both Greece’s journalists and its opposition politicians. Indeed, ERT staff were so irate they pledged to continue broadcasting come what may.

Intriguingly, their white knight arrived in the form of the European Broadcasting Union (the folks behind the Eurovision song contest). The EBU immediately expressed its “profound dismay” at Samaras’ decision and moved a satellite truck into the ERT’s car park in order to facilitate continued, online broadcasting. More, the EBU wrote to the European Commission and also organised a letter of protest signed by the great and good of European public service broadcasting, including the Director-General of the BBC.

By Thursday the pressure on Samaras had steadily ratcheted. It was beginning to look like he had overplayed his hand. So outraged were the other political parties — including PASOK and Democratic left, his coalitions partners — that it seemed as if fresh elections might prove necessary.

This spooked both the Germans and the market. Although Samaras only moved to close the broadcaster in order to satisfy the demands of the Troika (which has called for the Greek public sector to shed a further 2,000 workers), the alacrity with which the ERT was taken off the air, combined with the lack of consultation, prompted a political crisis. 

By Friday the Prime Minister had begun to row back. He signalled his intent to form a committee which would entrust a small number of ERT employees to resume news broadcasts. But for his opponents, rather predictably, the comprise measure did not go far enough. 

Over the weekend, Samaras attacked the ERT as “sinful” and corrupt. He claimed that he was trying to modernise a country that resembled “Jurassic Park”. But his justifications fell on deaf ears. On Monday Greece’s highest administrative court, the Council of State, suspended the order to closedown ERT. However, it did add that the state broadcaster sorely required reform. 

Although this caveat allowed all sides to claim victory, in reality there can be no doubt that the Prime Minister’s authority has been weakened. Indeed, Samaras has already pledged to update the coalition agreement, to consult with his partners more frequently and to engage in a Cabinet reshuffle. 

What to make of all this? Some have claimed the victor was Greek democracy, but I’m not so sure. While the government clearly acted with undue haste, the scope of the ERT must be put in perspective: its audience share, for instance, has been on the decline for years and currently stands at 13%. Furthermore, Samaras was attempting (albeit clumsily) to satisfy the demands of the Troika, not hobble the Greek media.

And then there is the role played by the EBU. Whether or not Samaras acted wisely (and I think we can all agree he didn’t), his decision to close the ERT was undermined by an unaccountable trade union. Not only did the EBU facilitate the aforementioned satellite truck, but it actually enabled the ERT’s news channel, NET, to return to television screens by rerouting its signal. 

Quite rightly, the Greek government has threatened the EBU with legal action (it has also been in contact with Israel to protest the fact that a firm from that nation co-opted with the EBU). Although it may have disagreed with the Greek government’s decision, the lengths which it went to circumvent it are astonishing.

In essence, the decision to close the ERT can be interpreted as a clumsy attempt to satisfy the Trokia— the IMF, the ECB and European Commission. In other words, the Greek government was bowing to its creditors demands. It is also true that the decision was roundly attacked as an affront to democracy, and that the policy was vehemently opposed by the EBU. In other words, the will of the Greek government was undermined by pan-European organisation accountable to no one. 

So I ask, is Antonis Samaras the real threat to Greek democracy? I can’t help but feel that the past week proves he isn’t.

Book Review: ‘Back From The Brink- 1,000 Days At Number 11’- Alistair Darling

These memoirs were published in a hurry: extracts appeared in September 2011, less than eighteen months after Darling left Government. I’m tempted to speculate why. Did Darling want to get his contribution out of the way before taking charge of the Better Together campaign; was he pressurised by his publisher; or did he strike while the iron was hot in order to preserve his reputation? 

 

What is clear is that Darling and Brown did not see eye-to-eye. The Prime Minister felt that the Chancellor’s economic forecasts were unreasonably gloomy. For his part, Darling admits he was cautious, but then again he had access to all the data. Brown’s ‘investment verses cuts’ strategy, the author argues, missed the point: public spending had to be addressed. 

Darling characterises himself as an arch pragmatist prepared to tell truth to power, only for power to ignore the advice. Given the circumstances, the stakes, Darling feels that he dealt with the financial crisis rather well. Going further, he expresses his frustration that No 10 failed to capitalise on his astute economic fire-fighting. 

Of course there’s more to politics than assigning blame. There’s also credit to accrue. “In the aftermath of the crisis” begins my favourite passage from Back from the Brink, “there have been many who have claimed authorship of what proved to be a highly successful plan ... [but] it really doesn’t matter who thought of the scheme first. What matters is that it worked. What I know for certain is that the Treasury, the Bank and the FSA started work on 26 September, under my instruction.”

Brilliant stuff. Indeed, while the tone is hardly triumphant (the cover jacket is almost comically austere) Darling is primarily concerned with vindicating his chancellorship, a feat he almost pulls off.

Putting politics to one side, it would be folly to deny the fact that Darling- a competent, cautious, experienced Minister- handled the financial crisis in a calm, logical matter. Of course, this is the impression he wishes to give, but it would be churlish to deny credit where credit is due. (Pun almost intended).

That said, the book is light on detail. In part this will be because copious amounts of economic data would contravene two important rules: it would reveal too much about policies still in practise, and it would be mind numbingly boring. So instead Darling dwells on the characters he dealt with: there’s a late night meeting with Fred Goodwin, disagreements with Mervyn King. Interesting, but superficial. Anyone keen to understand the mechanics behind the Government’s decision making should head elsewhere. 

Understandably, when first released the ruptures in the Brown-Darling relationship caught the eye. But these passages, intended to be climatic, fall a little flat. He dutifully knifes Brown on his management style, on policy, but he does so with little relish.

Yet their policy disagreements were substantive. Brown’s adherence to the ‘investment versus cuts’ line and Darling’s insistence on the need for budgetary rigor hinted at something larger, namely the tension between a Keynesian response to the crisis and New Labour’s mantra of economic prudence. This debate has yet to be fully resolved, but Darling will have keenly noted the words of Ed Balls last week and probably afforded himself the faintest of smiles. 

Book Review: Unfinest Hour: Britain and The Destruction of Bosnia - Brendan Simms

The Balkans is a difficult region to navigate. There are ancient blood feuds to content with, not to mention many ethnic quarrels and various border disputes to understand. Inevitably, therefore, most books on the subject are weighty tomes; replete with battles and conflicts, small tribes and large bands. 

 

Unfinest Hour, however, does things differently. Its author, Cambridge historian Brendan Simms, makes a straightforward case: that between 1992 and 1995 the West, Britain in particular, abandoned Bosnia in her hour of need. Not only were the invading Serb forces able to act with impunity, but their cause (which involved ethnic cleansing) was abetted by a British government which undermined calls for international action at every available turn. 

Not only, Simms contends, did this constitute a dereliction of duty (after the Holocaust what happened to ‘never again’?) but it revealed a moral deficiency at the heart of Whitehall. ‘Conservative pessimism’ is blamed for this malaise, as are Douglas Hurd and Malcolm Rifkind, its two principle embodiments. 

In their language Bosnia was a land of ‘factions’, where different ‘parties’ vied for land. Such notions are rejected by Simms. There was, he argues, no moral equivalence between the various sides: Bosnia was a sovereign state under persistent attack from an outside enemy force. Indeed, by failing to draw this distinction the British government misconstrued the conflict and made matters more complicated than they ought to have been. 

Washington, on the other hand, saw Bosnia in a clearer light. ‘Lift and strike’ (end the weapons embargo, attack Serb armed facilities) is characterised as a positive policy stymied by the pernicious Brits -- who invoked UNPROFOR and their men on the ground whenever offensive action was tabled. 

As ‘lift and strike’ died the enthusiasm of the Clinton administration went with it. However, after a period of futility, in 1995 America witnessed a ‘revolution from above’ when Congress defied the Whitehouse and voted in favour of a military response. Simms favourably contrasts this activism with what he sees as the supine behaviour of the British parliament.

Going further he characterises London’s Bosnia policy as a failure of the establishment-class.

In this vein both David Owen, co-author of the Vance-Owen plan, and General Michael Rose, UNPROFOR commander, are personally assailed for their contributions. Such personal attacks are unusual in British political writing and come across as unwarranted and unkind. That said, Owen too readily toed the Foreign Office line, and Rose harboured an unhealthy respect for the Serb forces’ professionalism, heritage and history. 

For those interested in decision making there is much to gain from Simms’ account. For instance, the construction of a consensus is particularly interesting to behold. Indeed, whatever one thinks of British policy it is clear that Ministers failed to adequately challenge the advice they received; they were beholden to the men on the ground. 

In addition, analogy (not for the first time) had a negative effect. A little history, it seems, is a dangerous thing, especially when old-hands justify present positions by invoking the past. Too often, officials made fatuous reference to Northern Ireland (and to a lesser extent Cyprus) when discussing Bosnia’s plight. Moreover, the role the Serbs played during the Second World War appeared all too often in British thinking.

More troublingly, Simms is guilty of glossing over the contributions many nations made to pacifying Bosnia. Britain, of course, was very much at the forefront of these efforts, and while Simms may not agree with the tone and direction of such contributions, his work gives the false impression that the international community spent much of the early-to-mid 1990s wringing their hands. 

Stylistically, published in 2000, Unfinest Hour relies almost exclusively upon the public record to support its claims. Not only does such an approach have obvious weaknesses, but it tests the readers’ will. Too often chapters disintegrate into ceaseless newspaper reports interspersed with passages from Hansard. 

The date of publication is notable for another reason. At the turn of the century New Labour was at its peak, and Tony Blair dominated the British political scene. His Chicago speech, given the year before, (in)famously laid out the argument for an interventionist foreign policy. Simms appears to have been impressed for Unfinest Hour is essentially a liberal-imperialist tract. 

What’s interesting is that now, in 2013 we appear to have come full circle. In Syria a brutal regime has been targeting its own population for over two years. Quite terrible horrors are occurring on a daily basis and yet no international action has, or looks likely to occur. The spectre of Iraq haunts the decision-makers of Washington and London; no one wishes to overreach like Tony Blair and George W. Bush. In this regard, the position of Simms appears curiously old-fashioned, almost quaint. 

And yet, his argument retains force. His contention that we must confront brutality the world over is simple but powerful, and it’s refreshing to encounter this position argued with passion, purpose and clarity, even if he pushes too far.