Читать книгу The Revenge of History - Seumas Milne - Страница 5
ОглавлениеLast Days of the New World Order
THE RISE OF LIBERAL INTERVENTIONISM (1999–2002)
The 9/11 attacks in New York and Washington did not come out of a clear blue sky, as was often said in the West at the time. They were the product of decades of US and Western support for client dictatorships across the oil-rich Middle East, sponsorship of Israeli occupation, war against the Soviet Union in Afghanistan and the militarily enforced asphyxiation of Iraq. They also followed a decade of untrammelled US power and neoliberal globalisation in the wake of the USSR’s collapse. These were the days of the US-proclaimed New World Order, reflected in a growing Anglo-American appetite to intervene militarily in the name of human rights – from Kosovo to Sierra Leone – while corporate-tailored triangulation set rigid limits on political alternatives and progressive change. But a backlash had already begun.
9/11: They can’t see why they are hated
Nearly two days after the horrific suicide attacks on civilian workers in New York and Washington, it has become painfully clear that most Americans simply don’t get it. From the president to passersby on the streets, the message seems to be the same: this is an inexplicable assault on freedom and democracy, which must be answered with overwhelming force – just as soon as someone can construct a credible account of who was actually responsible.
Shock, rage and grief there has been aplenty. But any glimmer of recognition of why people might have been driven to carry out such atrocities, sacrificing their own lives in the process – or why the United States is hated with such bitterness, not only in Arab and Muslim countries, but across the developing world – seems almost entirely absent. Perhaps it is too much to hope that, as rescue workers struggle to pull firefighters from the rubble, any but a small minority might make the connection between what has been visited upon them and what their government has visited upon large parts of the world.
But make that connection they must, if such tragedies are not to be repeated, potentially with even more devastating consequences. US political leaders are doing their people no favours by reinforcing popular ignorance with self-referential rhetoric. And the echoing chorus of Tony Blair, whose determination to bind Britain ever closer to US foreign policy ratchets up the threat to our own cities, will only fuel anti-Western sentiment. So will calls for the defence of ‘civilisation’, with its overtones of Samuel Huntington’s poisonous theories of post-cold-war confrontation between the West and Islam, heightening perceptions of racism and hypocrisy.
As Mahatma Gandhi famously remarked when asked for his opinion of Western civilisation, ‘it would be a good idea’. Since George W. Bush’s father inaugurated his New World Order a decade ago, the US, supported by its British ally, bestrides the world like a colossus. Unconstrained by any superpower rival or system of global governance, the US giant has rewritten the global financial and trading system in its own interest; ripped up treaties it finds inconvenient; sent troops to every corner of the globe; bombed Afghanistan, Sudan, Yugoslavia and Iraq without troubling the United Nations; maintained a string of murderous embargos against recalcitrant regimes; and recklessly thrown its weight behind Israel’s thirty-four-year illegal military occupation of the West Bank and Gaza as the Palestinian intifada rages.
If, as yesterday’s Wall Street Journal insisted, the east coast carnage was the fruit of the Clinton administration’s Munich-like appeasement of the Palestinians, the mind boggles as to what US Republicans imagine to be a Churchillian response.
It is this record of unabashed national egotism and arrogance that drives anti-Americanism among swathes of the world’s population, for whom there is little democracy in the current distribution of global wealth and power. If it turns out that Tuesday’s attacks were the work of Osama bin Laden’s supporters, the sense that the Americans are once again reaping a dragons’ teeth harvest they themselves sowed will be overwhelming.
It was the United States, after all, which poured resources into the 1980s war against the Soviet-backed regime in Kabul, at a time when girls could go to school and women to work. Bin Laden and his mojahedin were armed and trained by the CIA and MI6, as Afghanistan was turned into a wasteland and its communist leader Najibullah left hanging from a Kabul lamp post with his genitals stuffed in his mouth.
But by then bin Laden had turned against his American sponsors, while US-backed Pakistani intelligence had spawned the grotesque Taliban now protecting him. To punish its wayward Afghan offspring, the US subsequently forced through a sanctions regime which has helped push four million people to the brink of starvation, according to the latest UN figures, while Afghan refugees fan out across the world.
All this must doubtless seem remote to Americans desperately searching through the debris of what is expected to be the largest-ever massacre on US soil – as must the killings of yet more Palestinians in the West Bank yesterday, or even the two million estimated to have died in Congo’s wars since the overthrow of the US-backed Mobutu regime. ‘What could some political thing have to do with blowing up office buildings during working hours?’ one bewildered New Yorker asked yesterday.
Already, the Bush administration is assembling an international coalition for an Israeli-style war against terrorism, as if such counterproductive acts of outrage had an existence separate from the social conditions out of which they arise. But for every ‘terror network’ that is rooted out, another will emerge – until the injustices and inequalities that produce them are addressed.1
(13/9/01)
KOSOVO: A powerful and ominous precedent
As Nato embarks on its fourth week of ‘humanitarian war’ over the immolation of Kosovo, similar disasters around the world are attracting rather less attention. In East Timor, illegally occupied by Indonesia since 1975 in defiance of the United Nations, state and army-sponsored militias have massacred hundreds of civilians in recent weeks, in an apparent effort to prevent a UN-organised referendum on the territory’s future.
More than 200,000 people – around a third of the population – are estimated to have been killed since the Indonesian invasion. David Ximenes, deputy leader of the Timorese liberation movement Fretilin, remarked this week: ‘We have had our own Kosovo here for the last twenty-three years.’
The parallels between the treatment meted out by Serbia to Kosovan Albanians and Turkey’s war on its Kurdish minority are even closer – except that in the Turkish case, it has been on a larger scale. The Turkish war against Kurdish PKK guerillas – Turkey’s own Kosovo Liberation Army – has so far claimed 30,000 lives, driven three million Kurds from their homes and razed 4,000 villages to the ground. This week, Turkey sent a 5,000-strong force, backed up by fighter aircraft and attack helicopters, to hunt down PKK units in northern Iraq, where US and British bombers have also been in action again, ostensibly to protect Iraqi Kurds from Saddam Hussein.
And while Nato bombs rain down on Yugoslavia, Israeli warplanes have also been back in action in Lebanon against Hizbullah fighters in and around the Lebanese territory it has held for the past twenty-one years – along with the Syrian and West Bank territory it has occupied for rather longer – in violation of a string of UN resolutions. Meanwhile, Israel has accepted 112 Kosovan refugees, while well over two million Palestinian refugees and their families are still unable to return to their homes, in many cases more than fifty years after they were forced out of them.
There is no lack of other Kosovo parallels around the world. The significance of these particular instances of repression and war is not simply that the West is failing to act against the three states responsible, but that all are long-standing staunch Western allies and continue to be armed and funded by the US, Britain and other Nato states, even while the occupations and atrocities roll on. Indeed, Turkey, which also illegally occupies half of Cyprus, is not only a Nato member but also an enthusiastic participant in Tony Blair’s ‘war of values’ against Yugoslavia.
That is not an argument for air strikes against Jakarta, Ankara or Jerusalem. But if Nato’s self-proclaimed new internationalism is to amount to more than a modernised version of gunboat diplomacy and Liberal imperialism, it must at least mean that Western support is withdrawn from those states carrying out some of the very crimes for which it says it has gone to war with Serbia.
Nothing of the kind, of course, is going to happen. But what credibility can there be in a policy which claims to be based on a moral imperative, but only punishes ethnic cleansing and human rights abuses by regimes that refuse to toe the Western line? This is the fourth air assault on a sovereign state by the US, supported by Britain, in eight months, following those against Iraq, Afghanistan and Sudan. None was carried out in response to aggression against another state, and none has been sanctioned by the UN.
Even by Nato’s own lights, this war has scarcely been a success. It has self-evidently generated a worse humanitarian disaster than the one it was supposed to bring to an end – a point horrifically underscored by yesterday’s aerial slaughter of refugees – and failed to contain the conflict, while risking a wider war in the region.
By attacking an independent state over government-sponsored repression within its own borders, Nato has created a powerful but potentially ominous precedent. The emerging consensus that there must be some scope for human rights-based interventions will be destroyed unless they are made exclusively on the basis of recognised rules and explicit support from the UN or other universally accepted regional bodies. Without those safeguards, the risk must be of increased international conflict, as governments become judges in their own cause and the world’s most powerful states commandeer the new doctrine to promote their strategic interests.2
(15/4/99)
Sierra Leone: Raising the crusader’s flag in Africa
Any thought that the aftermath of Nato’s Kosovan imbroglio might have dimmed Tony Blair’s enthusiasm for ‘humanitarian wars’ has been swiftly dispelled. His government has emerged as the most interventionist British administration since decolonisation. No opportunity is now to be passed up, it seems, to raise the twenty-first-century crusader’s flag across the globe.
The increasingly grim Sierra Leone adventure, with its kidnappings and bloody military rescues, is the third time in eighteen months that New Labour has used British armed force outside UN control. It has also been the biggest independent British overseas military operation since the Falklands war.
Thirty-nine years after the union flag was hauled down in Freetown on almost two centuries of bloody colonial rule, British squaddies have now been back in force for months, their commanders directing the conduct of a gruesome and intractable civil war. With barely a murmur of public debate at home, British troops are once again killing Sierra Leoneans in their own land, while Royal Navy gunboats patrol the West African coast and the limb-hacking rebels of the Revolutionary United Front are routinely compared to Nazis, the standard designation for all post-1945 British enemies.
The British ‘training mission’ and its backup security units, denounced by the UN’s commander for their ‘Rambo tactics’, are now embroiled in a growing conflict with renegade British-armed militias, among others. The declared intent is not only to rescue hostages and maul the formerly pro-government ‘West Side Boys’, but also to take back control of Sierra Leone’s lucrative diamond fields.
The Blair administration’s intervention sprees began with the four-day Anglo-American onslaught against Iraq in December 1998. Bombing raids have continued ever since, outside UN resolutions and opposed by a majority of the permanent UN Security Council members, while the US and Britain’s enforcement of the failed sanctions regime is now almost universally recognised as having created a humanitarian disaster. US Democratic congressman David Bonnier described the sanctions as ‘infanticide masquerading as a policy’.
It was Nato’s self-proclaimed war of values over Kosovo that triggered Blair’s clarion call last year in Chicago for a new wave of worldwide intervention. It would be based, he declared, on a ‘subtle blend’ of self-interest and moral purpose, echoing the liberal imperialists of the late nineteenth century. A year on, reverse ethnic cleansing proceeds apace in Nato-occupied Kosovo.
But the full flowering of Blair’s new doctrine has been in Africa, where the United States still fears to tread in the wake of its Somali debacle of the early 1990s. After weeks of interference in Zimbabwe’s internal crisis – with British ministers defending the cause of the white landowners who stood behind the racist Rhodesian regime – Blair’s paratroopers were despatched to Freetown to fill the vacuum left by the disintegrating UN peacekeeping force Britain refused to join a year ago.
The fact that Iraq, Zimbabwe and Sierra Leone are all former British colonies doesn’t trouble the cheerleaders of the new ‘doctrine of international community’, enveloped as they are in a blanket of cultural amnesia about the horrors of Britain’s colonial past. It is less than half a century since British soldiers shot dead striking Sierra Leoneans on the streets of Freetown, nailed the limbs of Kenyan fighters to crossroads posts and posed for pictures with the severed heads of Malayan guerrillas.
With such a record, Britain might be thought the least suitable country on the planet to sort out the ‘savagery’ of its one-time colonial subjects. The world, we are told, has moved on. But for the people of Africa – burdened with Western debt, arms, mercenaries, mineral-hungry multinational companies and commodity prices that have been falling for forty years – it has not moved on enough.
After supporting one corrupt dictator after another in Sierra Leone, Britain has thrown its military weight behind President Kabbah and his supporters, who Tony Blair insists are the democratic ‘good guys’, against the rural-based RUF, led by Vice-President Foday Sankoh until his capture by British soldiers in May.
But the 1996 elections which brought Kabbah to power, held when the country was already engulfed in civil war, did not include the RUF and were racked by violence and ballot rigging claims. While the RUF has the worst record of atrocities, according to Amnesty International, Kabbah and his Kamajor militias have also been heavily involved in torture and extra-judicial killings—and his ally Johnny Paul Koroma is responsible for the mutilation and massacre of thousands of civilians. These are the people British troops are supporting – or were, until Koroma’s former protégés, the West Side Boys, started kidnapping British soldiers.
The reality is that Britain and its corrupt friends are part of the problem in Sierra Leone, and no outside force can impose the necessary internal settlement. If Blair wants to build a genuine international community, he should be working through the UN and universally accepted regional bodies – rather than, as Nelson Mandela charged earlier this year, playing ‘policemen of the world’ with the US, and ‘introducing chaos into international affairs’ by acting unilaterally.
The record shows that the more effective peacekeepers in Sierra Leone have been regional forces, including Nigeria’s. The most useful contribution Britain and other Western states – which still refuse to write off the debts of countries such as Nigeria – could now make to Sierra Leone would be to support an African solution to an African crisis.3
(11/9/00)
Israel: Men of blood and global justice
Governments and their leaders can no longer hide from global justice, we have been repeatedly assured. They cannot shelter behind national jurisdictions and state sovereignty. Those responsible for human rights abuses, ethnic cleansing atrocities and, most of all, war crimes, must and will be pursued regardless of national boundaries in an interdependent world.
That was the theme of Nato’s ‘humanitarian war’ against Yugoslavia – enthusiastically championed by Tony Blair – and of the hunting down of Serbian and Croatian warlords. It was the argument behind the plans for an international war crimes court and the millions of dollars handed out by the US congress for the prosecution of Iraqi leaders and their families.
It was also the message of the citizen-led attempt to prosecute the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet, and the rupture of political relations between Austria and the rest of the European Union in response to the rise to power of Jörg Haider’s far-right Freedom Party in Austria. But the partisans of this brave new ‘doctrine of international community’ have been strangely subdued since the election of the extreme right-wing general Ariel Sharon as Israel’s prime minister. It has been business as usual with the man held personally responsible for the largest massacre of civilians in the history of the Arab–Israeli conflict.
The British prime minister had a reportedly cordial chat with Sharon on Wednesday, while Foreign Secretary Robin Cook looked forward to ‘building on common ground’ and ‘moving the peace process forward’ with a politician whose swaggering provocation in Jerusalem last year triggered the current Palestinian uprising – and whose suggestion for dealing with demonstrators was to ‘cut off their testicles’. President Bush meanwhile promised Sharon that US support for Israel was ‘rock solid’.
Of course, governments deal with all sorts of leaders with ugly records. But Sharon is more than that. By any reasonable reckoning, he is a war criminal. This is a man of blood, whose history of terror and violation of the rules of war stretches back to the early 1950s, when his unit slaughtered Palestinian villagers, through his brutal onslaught on the refugees of Gaza in the 70s, to his central role in Israel’s 1982 invasion of Lebanon in which up to 20,000 people died.
Around 2,000 of them were butchered in thirty-six hours in the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila by Lebanese Phalangists effectively under Sharon’s control. Sharon had repeatedly insisted that the camps were full of terrorists. In reality, the victims were overwhelmingly unarmed civilians, the PLO’s fighters having been evacuated with an American-brokered promise of protection for their families.
Israel’s own Kahan Commission found Sharon ‘personally’ but ‘indirectly’ responsible for the massacre, though whether an independent court would be so generous is open to question.
Now Sharon’s return to power will put the good faith of supporters of an international justice system to the test. Their critics maintain that the new supranational doctrine of intervention and extra-territorial legality is a fraud, designed to give a spurious human rights legitimacy to big-power bullying of weaker states that threaten their authority or interests. War crimes or human rights violations committed by the major powers, or by Western allies in particular, they argue, will always be treated according to different standards and go unpunished.
The prospects are certainly not encouraging in the case of Israel, which has long been allowed by its Western sponsors to violate a string of UN Security Council resolutions, while other states in the region are subjected to lethal regimes of sanctions and bombing attacks for their transgressions.
Sharon’s most horrific crimes are more recent than Pinochet’s, and his responsibility for the Sabra and Shatila killings is better documented than, say, that of the indicted former Yugoslav leader Slobodan Milošević for the comparable Srebrenica massacre. It will be objected that Sharon has been chosen in a democratic election and that pursuing him for eighteen-year-old crimes will do nothing to advance the chances of a peace settlement.
Such a settlement will become more likely once the majority of Israelis realise that Sharon’s hardline policies of repression will not deliver the security they crave, while sanctions seem more suitable for a state whose citizens have a say in policy, rather than for dictatorships where they have none.
Of course, no Western government is likely to lift a finger against Sharon, though human rights and pro-Palestinian groups are already gearing up to attempt a Pinochet-style legal action if he ventures abroad. There is little prospect even of some mark of disapproval, such as a Haider-style diplomatic protest or the suspension of arms sales called for by a group of Labour MPs. These might at least send Israeli voters the message that there are limits to external material support.
During the Kosovo war, Blair announced that his foreign intervention policy was based on a ‘subtle blend’ of self-interest and moral purpose. Given the reaction to Sharon’s election, that seems to boil down to moral purpose for dealing with enemies, but self-interest when it comes to friends.4
(9/2/01)
Iraq: Where the victims have no vote
It is a fair rule of thumb that the more important a political issue, the less likely it is to be discussed during a general election. That certainly applies to Britain’s 2001 campaign, where the Blair government’s zeal for bombing, occupying and generally interfering in other people’s countries – described by the former Tory prime minister Edward Heath as an attempt to resurrect a colonial system – has not even registered as a flicker on the election radar.
British soldiers and air crews have been shedding blood in the Gulf, the Balkans and West Africa on a scale unprecedented since the demise of empire. But these interventions merit no debate – perhaps because all the main parties support them, or because such issues are considered best not discussed in front of the electorate. The victims have no vote.
Nowhere has more blood been shed or more lives reduced to misery than in Iraq, where ten years after Saddam Hussein’s army was expelled from Kuwait, its twenty million people are still being punished by the British and American governments for the decisions of a man they did not elect and cannot peacefully remove. RAF and US air attacks on the unilaterally declared no-fly zones in Iraq have continued unabated, while politicians in Britain concentrate on the minutiae of marginal tax rates.
The decade-long sanctions siege of Iraq, effectively sustained by the US and Britain alone, has cut a horrific swathe through a country devastated by two cataclysmic wars and a legacy of chemical and depleted uranium weapons contamination. Unicef estimates that 500,000 Iraqi children have died from the effects of the blockade. They are still dying in their thousands every month, while the living standards of a once-developed country have been reduced to the level of Ethiopia.
Aware that they have lost the battle for international opinion over responsibility for this national calvary, Britain and the US have now come up with a plan for ‘smart sanctions’, which they claim will ease the embargo on civilian imports and decisively shift the blame for Iraqi suffering on to Saddam. That is the spin, at least. The reality is that the British scheme currently before the UN Security Council would actually make sanctions more effective, and prolong indefinitely Iraq’s subjection to a form of international trusteeship.
One reason why the allies, as the Blair and Bush governments like to call themselves, are so keen to act is that the existing sanctions are, mercifully, eroding fast. Smuggling, cash surcharges on contracts, unsanctioned preferential oil supplies to Iraq’s neighbours and flights in and out of Baghdad have all helped to ease conditions for ordinary Iraqis. Anglo-American smart sanctions would put a stop to most of that by forcing neighbouring states to police the unlicensed trade across Iraq’s borders. In return for this tightening of the vice, the British are proposing to restrict controls to military and ‘dual use’ goods – those with civilian and military applications.
But the obstruction of dual-use products is at the heart of the problem with the current sanctions. The secretive New York-based sanctions committee already rubber-stamps Iraqi imports of flour and rice. But it has blocked or vetoed more than $12 billion-worth of alleged dual-use contracts. Everything from chlorine and ambulances, vaccines and electrical goods to hoses, morphine and anaesthetics have been stopped, in every case by the British or US representative, on the grounds that they might have military uses.
The same will apply under smart sanctions, as will the arrangement by which Iraq’s oil income is controlled from outside, with a third of it used to pay reparations to cash-rich Kuwait and the cost of administering sanctions.
The pretext for maintaining and tightening the embargo is supposedly to prevent Iraq from developing new weapons of mass destruction and to force it to readmit the arms inspectors withdrawn two years ago. One of those inspectors, Scott Ritter, insists Iraq has long since been disarmed and no longer has the means to develop significant chemical and biological, let alone nuclear, weapons.
No other state in the region – notably nuclear-armed Israel, which daily violates a string of UN resolutions in its illegally occupied territories – is subjected to such punishment. The obvious way out of this inhuman and failed policy would be negotiation for the simultaneous lifting of sanctions and return of UN inspectors. That is unlikely to happen. Iraq has been singled out, not because of the brutality of its dictator, but because it cannot be trusted to toe the Western line in a strategically critical part of the world.5
(30/5/01)
Blair, Berlusconi and the heirs of Mussolini
The choice is not between New Labour and some imaginary, more radical Labour government, Tony Blair never tires of chiding critics from the heartlands, but between his administration and William Hague’s barking, slavering Tories. When it comes to this election, his point is unanswerable. Even in Scotland and Wales, where there are electorally credible challenges from Labour’s left – or in England, where the Liberal Democrats have adopted more progressive positions on some issues – only two parties have the remotest chance of forming a government next month.
The alternatives on offer are a party which, for all its policy outrages and grovelling to the rich and powerful, has brought in the country’s first national minimum wage, a legal right to union representation and the biggest-ever increase in child benefit – or a party which promises to slash spending on public services, ban public-sector strikes and lock up all asylum seekers in internment camps.
That, however, is only the beginning of the story. Any illusion that the government might be gradually turning itself into a more recognisably Labour administration has been firmly dispelled by the prime minister and Gordon Brown in the past few days. Both have been busy explaining why those earning over £100,000 cannot afford to pay a few thousand pounds a year more in tax for fear of undermining their incentive to work, and the chancellor has declared he wants to see every teacher in the land winning over children’s hearts and minds for the spirit of private enterprise.
Meanwhile, Blair says he wants to intensify the modernisation (for which read privatisation) of health and education, as well as the reform of welfare (for which read cuts). Unconcerned about the growing anti-corporate mood, New Labour has shown it is determined to position itself as Britain’s foremost party of big business. And there have been renewed mutterings at Millbank about breaking the party’s links with the trade unions if there is any more nonsense about transport workers going on strike. The Blairite project, it seems, is up and running again.
This week’s Italian elections – won by a billionaire media monopolist running in harness with a regionalist xenophobe and the political heirs of Benito Mussolini – offer a timely warning about where this kind of marginalisation of core supporters can end up. To be fair to the Blairophile centre-left coalition that has ruled Italy for the past five years, it never stretched quite as far to the right as its British counterpart. But, like New Labour, it offered itself as the best bet for international business – which repaid the compliment by campaigning hard against a Berlusconi victory – and pushed through a programme of welfare cuts, privatisation, labour flexibility and budget austerity to squeeze Italy into the eurozone.
Faced with a left-leaning government which failed to deliver to its heartlands and a demagogic opposition which played mercilessly on the racism and social tensions around illegal migrants, voters haemorrhaged to the right, producing Sunday’s gruesome result. Factor out the specifics of Italian political culture and it is not so hard to imagine a British version of this debacle a few years down the line.
Politicians are articulators of power and social interests and they respond to pressure. At the moment, New Labour feels far more heat from its powerful business and media friends – as well as allies and international institutions abroad – than it does from its own core supporters, such at the trade unions, which have sold their loyalty cheaply over the past four years.
Tony Blair’s government has, arguably despite itself, shifted the terms of political trade, for example, around the issue of public spending. But the prime minister has also helped create a crisis of political representation by effectively closing down internal Labour democracy, while weighting the balance of political influence inside his big tent heavily towards middle-class and employer interests. Under the current electoral system, both main parties have to be led as genuine coalitions or they undermine confidence in politics itself.
Supporters may acknowledge a Labour government as preferable to a Tory one, but if the gap is seen as too narrow, some will inevitably peel off and the coalition will erode. Without a second-term shift to a politically broader administration, challenges from the left are bound to grow and where they are credible – as in London last year – are likely to be effective. The risk must also be, though, of a parallel drift into voter apathy and an eventual collapse, Berlusconi-style, of part of Labour’s electorate into Tory populism.6
(16/5/01)
Globalisation and a war on asylum
The mood music has become steadily harsher as the extent of the far right’s advance on the European mainland has been rammed home. First David Blunkett described asylum seekers as ‘swamping’ schools and medical services. Then Peter Hain singled out Britain’s Muslims for their supposed ‘separatism’, while denouncing southern Europe for being a ‘soft touch’ for asylum seekers. But now, as the tabloid campaign against refugees reaches a new frenzy, Whitehall officials say it is Tony Blair – far more even than his would-be hardman Blunkett – who is driving the government towards an aggressive new line on asylum and immigration.
Earlier this week, Blair celebrated his success in convincing José María Aznar, the Spanish prime minister, to back a British plan to withdraw EU aid from poor countries which fail to join the crackdown on migrants. The message could not be clearer. Just as Australia’s conservative prime minister John Howard swept away an electoral challenge from the populist right by stealing its clothes on immigration, Blair is now determined to buy off any potential domestic backlash from the racist right with a political war on asylum.
How far he intends to go is spelled out for the first time in an ‘action plan’, delivered by Downing Street last week to senior ministers and civil servants – and leaked to me – aimed at bringing about a ‘radical reduction’ in the number of ‘unfounded asylum applications’.
The document bears all the hallmarks of official panic, with civil servants pulling every conceivable policy lever in an effort to respond to pressure from the top: from proposals to park British immigration officials at Paris and Amsterdam airports, and the tightening of visa requirements for countries such as Zimbabwe, to cutting the length of time refugees from war zones are given exceptional leave to remain. There are plans for bulk removals by the RAF, a new ‘white list’ of ‘safe’ countries such as Pakistan, and entitlement cards for asylum seekers. And so the list goes on.
In an accompanying letter circulated around the upper reaches of Whitehall, the No. 10 policy adviser Olivia McLeod singled out two ideas in particular for ministers to discuss at a meeting with Tony Blair last Wednesday. Would it be possible, she asked, for the Ministry of Defence and security services to help catch ‘people traffickers’ bringing asylum seekers to Britain? The Royal Navy warships in the eastern Mediterranean, she proposed, should be given the job.
This would be a new departure for Britain indeed – though already a staple of Australian political theatre – and gives a literal twist to Blair’s war on asylum. But Downing Street’s other main demand last week is likely to cause even more internal trouble for the government. No. 10, it transpires, now wants direct British aid to ‘source countries’ for asylum claimants (such as Turkey) to be made conditional on cooperating with repatriation. Having just steered an international development act through parliament outlawing any such conditions, Clare Short is said to be fighting a rearguard action against the linkage.
The aid penalty plan encapsulates the dislocated absurdity at the heart of Britain’s asylum and immigration policy. Migration into western Europe is the inevitable product of pauperisation and conflict at its periphery, in an arc stretching across the former Soviet Union and eastern Europe through the Middle East and North Africa. The free-market globalisation policies promoted by Britain and other EU governments have decimated jobs and living standards throughout those regions, while conflicts for which Britain and its allies share responsibility have become a veritable engine of refugees. Afghanistan, Iraq, Turkey and, until recently, the former Yugoslavia have long headed the list of countries of origin for asylum seekers coming to Britain – and the British government has either directly or indirectly intervened with bombs, sanctions or support for large-scale internal repression in every one. Deliberately to impoverish these states still further would be utterly perverse.
Many of those most closely involved in managing asylum, including in government, believe this to be a confected crisis. The 130 asylum seekers the authorities are said to lose track of every day roughly equal the number of mostly antipodean ‘working holidaymakers’ daily flying into Heathrow. Almost 50 per cent of asylum seekers are either eventually granted refugee status or given exceptional leave to remain. And there was no correlation whatever in this month’s local elections between BNP votes and the presence of asylum seekers. But by talking and acting as though there is a growing crisis and appeasing a racist agenda, the government risks destabilising and poisoning community relations for years to come.7
(23/5/02)
Zimbabwe: Colonialism and the New World Order
Tony Blair is not a man renowned for his humility. But after failing to get his way over Zimbabwe at the Commonwealth summit last weekend, his arrogance could hardly be contained. Fulminating at African heads of government for refusing to back Britain’s demand for Zimbabwe’s immediate suspension, the prime minister declared that ‘there can be no question of Mugabe being allowed to stay in power’ unless this weekend’s watershed presidential election was free and fair. Since he had already made clear he regarded it as rigged, his meaning could not be plainer: the British government is determined to see Robert Mugabe ousted.
It must be galling for a man who last autumn offered himself as Africa’s saviour to be so publicly rebuffed by Africa’s leaders. Isolated with Australia and New Zealand in a gang of three mainly white states, the prime minister insisted: ‘This type of behaviour has got to stop.’ What entitles Zimbabwe’s former colonial master to insist on a change of government in Harare was not explained. But since Blair’s ministers began openly to champion the cause of the white farmers who made up the backbone of the former Rhodesian regime – while denouncing the black leadership which defeated it as ‘uncivilised’ – British interference in Zimbabwe has been ceaseless.
Perhaps taking its cue from the government, most mainstream British media coverage of the Zimbabwean crisis has now abandoned even a veneer of even-handedness, as reporters and presenters have become cheerleaders for the opposition Movement for Democratic Change. In a BBC television interview on Sunday with Foreign Office Minister Baroness Amos, David Frost talked blithely of ‘100,000 people being killed by Mugabe supporters over the last two years’. In fact, human rights groups estimate the total number killed on both sides during that period at around 160. Frost and the shadow foreign secretary, Michael Ancram, went on to denounce Mugabe as a ‘fascist dictator’ and ‘black racist’, both urging more decisive British action. The same day an unrelentingly hostile BBC ‘Correspondent’ programme passed without a single balancing interview.
There is little sense in any of this of Britain’s responsibility for the rapacious colonisation of Zimbabwe and the continuing grotesque inequality of land ownership two decades after independence, which has left 6,000 white farmers in control of half the country’s 81 million acres of arable land, while around 850,000 black farmers are crammed into the rest. It was after all a British Labour government which refused to put down Ian Smith’s white racist rebellion in 1965 because of fears that the army would balk at acting against their ‘kith and kin’, provoking a war which cost 40,000 lives. It was a British Tory government which imposed white parliamentary quotas and a ten-year moratorium on land reform at independence. Now the British government (through the Westminster Foundation for Democracy) and the Tories (through the Zimbabwe Democracy Trust) – along with white farmers and corporations – are all funding the MDC, committed as it is to free-market policies and the restoration of white farms to their owners.
It is impossible to sustain the case that Zimbabwe has been singled out for international denunciation by the British government because of political violence, intimidation or restrictions on democratic freedoms, alarming as these are. Such factors are common to other African states supported by Britain, such as Kenya and Zambia (where an election was rigged earlier this year). And Blair is bosom buddies with dictators such as General Musharraf of Pakistan and the Saudi royal family. In Zimbabwe, the liberation war leader Mugabe is at least holding an election of sorts; there are anti-government newspapers and a parliamentary opposition.
There are only two possible explanations for Britain’s role. One is a racist concern for the privileged white minority. The other is that, unlike Zambia and Kenya, Mugabe is no longer playing ball with the West’s neoliberal agenda and is talking, credibly or not, of taking over private businesses and a return to socialism. That cannot be tolerated and, in the New World Order, the US now appears to have subcontracted supervision of Africa largely to the former colonial powers, Britain and France.
The struggle over power and land has brought Zimbabwe to a virtual state of civil war. Unemployment and inflation are rampant; living standards have plunged, while Aids is taking a horrific toll (and Mugabe promotes a grim homophobia). Zimbabwe needs to find its own way to a peaceful political evolution and a return to the progressive reforms of Mugabe’s early years in power. But these are issues for Zimbabweans to settle. Outside interference can only make that process more difficult – and Britain is the very last country to dictate to its once-captive subjects.8
(7/3/02)
Catastroika has not only been a disaster for Russia
Throughout the past decade, it has been an article of faith in the West that the implosion of the Soviet Union represented a liberation for its people and an undiluted boon for the rest of the world. At a stroke, the evil empire had been miraculously swept away and the ground laid for a great leap forward to freedom, peace and prosperity.
There was rejoicing across the political spectrum, from free-market conservatives to the far left. The nuclear threat had lifted and a new world order of democratic global governance had been inaugurated. History had come to an end and the long-suffering East European masses would at last be able to step out from under the Communist yoke to enjoy the liberal capitalism (or genuine socialism, in the leftist version) which was to be the fortunate lot of all humankind.
This weekend, it will be ten years since the comic-opera coup which precipitated the downfall of Mikhail Gorbachev, the banning of the Soviet Communist Party and the dissolution of the USSR. As the dust and debris have cleared from the convulsive events of 1989–91, the real nature of what they brought about has come into focus. For all the action on the streets, the changes were mostly engineered by sections of the nomenklatura that realised the old system was in crisis and saw the opportunities for enrichment.
Far from opening the way to emancipation, these changes led to beggary for most citizens, ushering in the most cataclysmic peacetime economic collapse of an industrial country in history. Under the banner of reform and the guidance of American-prescribed shock therapy, perestroika became catastroika. Capitalist restoration brought in its wake mass pauperisation and unemployment; wild extremes of inequality; rampant crime; virulent anti-Semitism and ethnic violence, all combined with legalised gangsterism on a heroic scale and the ruthless looting of public assets.
The scale of the social disaster that has engulfed the former Soviet Union and much of eastern Europe in the past ten years is often underestimated outside, or even by visitors to Moscow and other relatively prosperous cities in the former Soviet bloc. Some of the more startling facts are set out by the US professor of Russian studies Stephen Cohen in his book Failed Crusade,9 a savage indictment of Western blindness to what has been inflicted on the one-time communist world.
By the late 1990s, national income had fallen by more than 50 per cent (compare that with the 27 per cent drop in output during the great American depression), investment by 80 per cent, real wages by half and meat and dairy herds by 75 per cent. Indeed, the degradation of agriculture is, Cohen argues, in some respects worse even than during Stalin’s forced collectivisation of the countryside in the 1930s.
The numbers living below the poverty line in the former Soviet republics had risen from 14 million in 1989 to 147 million, even before the 1998 financial crash. The market experiment has produced more orphans than Russia’s 20 million-plus wartime casualties, while epidemics of cholera and typhus have re-emerged, millions of children suffer from malnutrition and adult life expectancy has plunged. As this human tragedy was unfolding, Western politicians and bankers harried Russia’s leaders to push ahead more energetically with the ‘reform’ and privatisation treatment producing it: a transition in many areas to a premodern age.
Only with the rise in oil prices, the devaluation of the rouble and the merciful departure of Boris Yeltsin has the economic slide begun to be reversed. And in eastern Europe, only star performers like Poland have managed to return to the output levels achieved before 1989 – and even then at a cost of millions of unemployed, widespread poverty and social regression.
Some who have championed the lurch from a centralised, publicly owned economy to the robber-baron capitalism of today’s Russia will doubtless comfort themselves with the thought that the grim figures exaggerate the costs of change and ignore the greater freedom, democratic structures and better quality of goods now available.
But those freedoms and competitive elections – heavily circumscribed as they are – were largely the fruit of the Gorbachev era and predate the Soviet collapse, while for most Russians and other former Soviet citizens, the bulk of that wider range of goods is priced out of reach.
That is why people who lived in conditions of full employment, with low housing and transport costs and access to basic health and social provision, mostly tell opinion pollsters they are now worse off than under Communist rule. It’s hardly surprising in the circumstances that 85 per cent of Russians regret the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Similarly Leonid Brezhnev – Soviet leader in the 1970s, known as the era of stagnation, but also a period when living standards were rising – was picked out as the outstanding Russian politician of the twentieth century.10
Russians have seen their country reduced from a superpower to a nuclear-armed basket case in a decade, and hatred of the West has grown as its role in that process has been driven home. For the rest of the world, the impact of the Soviet abdication a decade ago has been no less profound. The removal of the only state that could challenge the power of the US militarily, even if it bled itself white by doing so, drastically narrowed the room for manoeuvre for everybody else.
The winding down of nuclear and strategic confrontation under Gorbachev allowed states like Britain to cut military spending, but also created the conditions for untrammelled US power in a unipolar world, while potentially more volatile nuclear threats emerged. It is difficult to imagine the Gulf War of 1991 and the subsequent throttling of Iraq or the dismemberment and inter-ethnic wars of Yugoslavia taking place, let along Bush’s current rush to unilateralism, if the Soviet Union had not been on its knees or extinct.
For developing countries, in particular, the destruction of the second superpower – which had championed the anti-colonial movement and later the third world cause – largely closed off the scope for different alliances and sources of aid and sharply increased their dependence on the West. Throughout the world, the removal of the ideological challenge represented by the Soviet Union dramatically weakened the labour movement and the left – and even confidence in political ideas of any kind, something that is only now beginning to change.
Perhaps it is still too early, as the Chinese Communist leader Zhou Enlai said of the French Revolution, to make a considered assessment of the seventy years of Soviet power: its achievements, failures and crimes, its legacy to progressive politics and the search for an alternative social model. The particular form of society it created will never be replicated, nor will the conditions that gave rise to it. But the effects of its destruction will be with us for decades to come.
(16/8/01)
The return of anti-capitalism
The signal for yesterday’s May Day madness – the mobilisation of 10,000 police to corral a few thousand anti-capitalist protesters, plus a handful of headbangers – was given by the prime minister almost a year ago. By any objective reckoning, the televised trashing of McDonald’s and daubing of a Winston Churchill statue last time around scarcely amounted to an orgy of street violence. But Tony Blair was adamant. ‘This kind of thing cannot happen again,’ he declared, as jail sentences were handed down for crimes such as throwing a plastic bottle, painting slogans and using threatening behaviour.
This year, the Met have got the message. In an orchestrated climate of absurdist and self-fulfilling hysteria about the threat of ‘atrocities’ from US-trained anarchists, public opinion was duly softened up for yesterday’s New Labour police operation, complete with terrifying mugshots of alleged rioters, excitable talk about rubber bullets and mutterings about the Real IRA using the demonstrations as cover for a bomb attack.
Fresh from his hostile reception at Sunday’s South African Freedom Day concert, Blair was at it again on Monday, accusing protesters of planning to inflict ‘fear, terror, violence’, while Jack Straw denounced the ‘evil people’ behind last year’s ruck. No doubt being seen to crack down hard on an apparently unpopular target looks like a sensible move in the run-up to an election in which Labour will be attacked for its record on crime. But by dismissing the ideas behind yesterday’s demonstrations as a ‘spurious cause’, the prime minister made clear he does not simply want to demonise riotous protest, but also the increasingly influential anti-corporate movement that has fuelled them.
It is, of course, much easier to shock the bourgeoisie than to overthrow it, as the historian Eric Hobsbawm put it. And while a few ‘hardcore’ anti-capitalists appear to have succeeded in shocking the powers-that-be – or at least cabinet ministers and the tabloid press – they can hardly imagine that throwing stones at the police or smashing shop windows is going to shake the capitalist order. The only political violence that has ever achieved its aims has been either spontaneous or decisive: anything else merely tends to weaken the cause of those carrying it out. Groups that want a barney with the police have always attached themselves to large-scale demonstrations – whether against the Vietnam war, poll tax or apartheid – and the anti-corporate protests are more than usually vulnerable to such diversions because of their highly decentralised, ultra-democratic forms of organisation.
But far more significant in the longer run than apportioning blame for yesterday’s clashes is the fact that ten years after the end of the cold war and the supposed global triumph of liberal capitalist ideas, the international workers’ day has again become a focus of international protest, animated yesterday by a common political agenda from London to Sydney, Moscow to Seoul: rejection of neoliberal globalisation, opposition to the eclipse of democracy by corporate power and demand for international action to tackle the ecological crisis. Even by simply making the slogan of anti-capitalism common currency, the movement has raised the possibility of a systemic alternative, derided as a nonsense for most of the past decade.
And far from being a minority cause, the central concerns of the anti-corporate movement are becoming mainstream, finding support far beyond the ranks of environmentalists, animal rights activists and global economic justice campaigners on the streets of London and other British cities yesterday. This week’s NOP poll for Channel 4 found most people believe multinational companies have more power over their lives than Blair’s government, and that the corporate giants care ‘only about profits and not the interests of the people in the countries where they operate’.
The weakness of the anti-corporate movement, in Britain at least, is not so much that it lacks a common world view or programme of action – something of a strength at this stage – but that it is disconnected from other more socially rooted groups and organisations. A crucial factor behind the impact of the protests at the Seattle World Trade Organisation summit eighteen months ago was the alliance between trade union and direct action campaigners that underpinned them. So far, links have been at the margins of both movements; yesterday’s labour march was kept far from the anti-corporate protests. That is one gap that will have to be bridged if the central social demands of our time are going to be met.11
(2/5/01)
