foreignpolicy--2020-01-16--Egypt and Ethiopia Said to Be Close to Accord on Renaissance Dam

Egypt and Ethiopia Said to Be Close to Accord on Renaissance Dam Three days of intensive discussions in Washington , under the auspices of the U.S. Treasury and the World Bank , may have laid the groundwork for a preliminary agreement that could defuse growing tensions between Egypt and Ethiopia over the construction of Africa ’ s largest dam .
The overtime talks—lasting a day longer than scheduled—did not yet reach final agreement on the trickiest questions about how Ethiopia will operate the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam ( GERD ) or fully address Egypt ’ s fears about how the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Nile River , for millennia the country ’ s literal lifeblood .
The two countries , along with Sudan , agreed to meet again at the end of January with an eye toward nailing down precisely those technical questions , which have so far defied consensus and led to bitter recriminations between Cairo and Addis Ababa .
But at least , after four inconclusive meetings in recent months , Egypt , Ethiopia , and Sudan seem to have reached an agreement on what ’ s left to solve if they are to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has generated ill will and threats of military intervention since Ethiopia announced the dam ’ s construction almost a decade ago .
“ The filling of the GERD will be executed in stages and will be undertaken in an adaptive and cooperative manner that takes into consideration the hydrological conditions of the Blue Nile and the potential impact of the filling on downstream reservoirs , ” the concerned parties said in a statement late Wednesday .
The preliminary agreement , even if it leaves many important details undetermined , is important because Ethiopia @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fill the dam ’ s giant reservoir , during which it could begin to divert flows of water from Egypt downstream .
The fight over the GERD has become one of the most watched water conflicts in the world and , if not solved soon , could be a harbinger of what ’ s to come as climate change and shifting rainfall patterns put even more strain on water-stressed countries with growing populations .
“ It ’ s a foreshadowing of the water issues that we will be facing in the future , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of conflict much more than in the past , ” said Paul Sullivan , a water and energy expert at the National Defense University .
The three countries have spent the past eight years trying to find a solution , before finally turning toward the potential of international mediation last year if differences couldn ’ t be resolved .
“ It won ’ t just be the Nile .
There will be some massive water conflicts , and if we can ’ t solve this one , it doesn ’ t bode well.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ be the Nile .
There will be some massive water conflicts , and if we can ’ t solve this one , it doesn ’ t bode well , ” he said .
This showdown between Ethiopia and Egypt began in 2011 , when Ethiopia took advantage of Egypt ’ s distraction with the Arab Spring to begin construction on the long-planned GERD , a massive hydroelectric project on the Blue Nile just across the border from Sudan .
A dream since the 1960s , the dam is meant to provide huge amounts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , energy that could both fuel economic development and bring in cash through international electricity sales .
Across several Ethiopian administrations , the dam has become a must-have project politically—especially since Ethiopians themselves underwrote its $ 4.6 billion cost with a popular bond issue—and that ’ s doubly the case this year , with parliamentary elections tentatively set for late summer or fall .
But for Egypt , the dam at the headwaters of the Nile represents a potentially existential threat .
Some 90 percent of Egypt ’ s water comes from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that Nile water comes from the Blue Nile flows that Ethiopia is seeking to dam .
And it will be a huge one : The reservoir behind the GERD , once filled , will hold about 74 billion cubic meters of water—well over a year ’ s worth of river flow through that location .
In recent years , Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi had threatened to use military force to stop the dam ’ s construction , and it remains a heated subject in both the Egyptian and Ethiopian press .
Sudan @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the other two countries , initially opposed the dam but came to support it since it promises irrigation and electricity benefits and a way to regulate irregular flows of water that often lead to devastating floods .
For Egypt , Ethiopia ’ s project is a violation of a 1959 treaty that essentially divvied up the Nile ’ s waters between Egypt and Sudan—cutting Ethiopia out altogether .
Since then , Egypt has used even more water than it is allocated under the treaty , since Sudan ’ s underdeveloped economy requires less @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Ethiopia is essentially asking Egypt to forgo supplies of water that it has come to count on , at least for the next few years .
“ They disagree on the fundamentals—who owns the water , ” Sullivan said .
“ It ’ s one of those water issues that looks almost unresolvable.
” The talks in Washington , and the next meeting slated for the end of the month , zero in on a critical , if seemingly technical , question , said Kevin Wheeler , an expert on Nile water @ @ @ @ @ @ @ How fast will Ethiopia seek to fill and operate the reservoir behind the dam ?
If Ethiopia , as it has often vowed to do , seeks to fill the reservoir to get its hydroelectric plant up and running quickly , that would mean less water for Egypt in the short term .
But if Ethiopia fills the reservoir slowly , letting more water flow downstream , it could take years to fully realize a project that is already almost a decade in the making .
In the last round of technical talks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the reservoir be filled over a period potentially lasting between 12 and 20 years—too distant a date for an Ethiopia that needs more immediate payback for its big investment and that has argued for a filling period lasting only five to seven years .
But what matters , Wheeler said , is less the number of years the sides agree on to fill the dam than how much water will keep flowing in the meantime—and how flexible those plans are to account for sudden periods of drought or abundant rainfall .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on agreed release rates , ” Wheeler said , so that Ethiopia could fill the reservoir faster during rainy periods ( like this year ) and more slowly during droughts , like in 2015 .
There are related issues that technical talks have so far failed to address , such as Ethiopia ’ s willingness to ensure that Egypt ’ s Aswan High Dam has enough water of its own to generate electricity .
“ Under average hydrologic conditions , the water level at the Aswan High Dam will drop , but it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ levels , ” Wheeler said .
“ The big question is what happens if there is a drought while filling.
” That ’ s why Egypt initially wanted some sort of guarantee that Ethiopia would ensure the Aswan High Dam had enough water during the years it would take to fill the new dam , but so far the two sides haven ’ t worked out a final agreement that includes such provisions .
The five parties in talks in Washington essentially danced around the big questions but deferred their solution to a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of filling will be done according to a mechanism to be agreed that determines release based upon the hydrological conditions of the Blue Nile and the level of the GERD that addresses the filling goals of Ethiopia and provides electricity generation and appropriate mitigation measures for Egypt and Sudan during prolonged periods of dry years , drought and prolonged drought , ” they said in the statement .
An agreement is technically possible—but politics in both Egypt and Ethiopia have gotten in the way .
The Nile ’ s importance to Egypt ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s flow seem an existential question , and protecting its historic rights to Nile waters makes it a nationalistic lightning rod .
Ethiopia , for its part , wants to see a speedy return on the nearly $ 5 billion project that successive governments have sold as critical for the country ’ s economic future .
If there is enough trust between the two sides , Wheeler said there are sound technical solutions to the problem , ones that would enable Ethiopia to fill the reservoir and start generating power in a reasonable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to downstream flows to Egypt are minimal—especially if there is any repeat of the 2015 drought .
In an influential 2016 study , Wheeler and his co-authors found that as long as Ethiopia ensures a decent minimum flow of water downstream—say , 35 billion cubic meters a year—and agrees to help keep the Aswan High Dam sufficiently full during the filling process , while Egypt promises to take drought mitigation measures of its own , both sides can weather the GERD ’ s construction with minimal disruption .
The study concluded that “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and has provided a road map for the technical talks in Washington and elsewhere .
Failing a final agreement on the dam itself , there are other potential solutions that outside powers like the United States , Europe , and Gulf countries like Saudi Arabia could use to try to address the underlying issues .
Ethiopia has abundant renewable energy resources , especially in geothermal power , Sullivan noted—something that outside investment support could help galvanize , addressing Ethiopia ’ s need for more electricity without resorting to the controversial hydroelectric project .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ build expensive desalination plants that could bolster its water security , as well as help cushion the inevitable adjustments as the country seeks to make painful reforms to the way it uses water , which is largely used in inefficient flood irrigation agriculture for thirsty crops unsuitable for desert climes .
But for now , all eyes will turn to the next phase of ongoing technical talks to see if the two countries , along with Sudan , can work out a solution that meets Ethiopia ’ s desire to get the dam @ @ @ @ @ @ @ while ensuring Egypt doesn ’ t face any water shortfalls that could dent its own power generation or stunt agriculture downstream .
Contentious as those talks may be—with bitter fights over guaranteed river flows , suspicions over long-term plans for irrigation , and the ever-present fear of drought—they are better than the periodic saber-rattling that for years has threatened to spark open conflict between the two countries .
“ The last thing we need is for Egypt and Ethiopia to come to blows , ” Sullivan said .
“ It would be a @ @ @ @ @ @

Three days of intensive discussions in Washington, under the auspices of the U.S. Treasury and the World Bank, may have laid the groundwork for a preliminary agreement that could defuse growing tensions between Egypt and Ethiopia over the construction of Africa’s largest dam.
Three days of intensive discussions in Washington, under the auspices of the U.S. Treasury and the World Bank, may have laid the groundwork for a preliminary agreement that could defuse growing tensions between Egypt and Ethiopia over the construction of Africa’s largest dam.
The overtime talks—lasting a day longer than scheduled—did not yet reach final agreement on the trickiest questions about how Ethiopia will operate the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) or fully address Egypt’s fears about how the hydroelectric project could affect downstream flows of the Nile River, for millennia the country’s literal lifeblood. The two countries, along with Sudan, agreed to meet again at the end of January with an eye toward nailing down precisely those technical questions, which have so far defied consensus and led to bitter recriminations between Cairo and Addis Ababa.
But at least, after four inconclusive meetings in recent months, Egypt, Ethiopia, and Sudan seem to have reached an agreement on what’s left to solve if they are to avoid open conflict over a project that has generated ill will and threats of military intervention since Ethiopia announced the dam’s construction almost a decade ago.
“The filling of the GERD will be executed in stages and will be undertaken in an adaptive and cooperative manner that takes into consideration the hydrological conditions of the Blue Nile and the potential impact of the filling on downstream reservoirs,” the concerned parties said in a statement late Wednesday.
The preliminary agreement, even if it leaves many important details undetermined, is important because Ethiopia is just months away from beginning to fill the dam’s giant reservoir, during which it could begin to divert flows of water from Egypt downstream. The fight over the GERD has become one of the most watched water conflicts in the world and, if not solved soon, could be a harbinger of what’s to come as climate change and shifting rainfall patterns put even more strain on water-stressed countries with growing populations.
“It’s a foreshadowing of the water issues that we will be facing in the future, in which water will be a source of conflict much more than in the past,” said Paul Sullivan, a water and energy expert at the National Defense University. The three countries have spent the past eight years trying to find a solution, before finally turning toward the potential of international mediation last year if differences couldn’t be resolved.
“It won’t just be the Nile. There will be some massive water conflicts, and if we can’t solve this one, it doesn’t bode well.”
“It won’t just be the Nile. There will be some massive water conflicts, and if we can’t solve this one, it doesn’t bode well,” he said.
This showdown between Ethiopia and Egypt began in 2011, when Ethiopia took advantage of Egypt’s distraction with the Arab Spring to begin construction on the long-planned GERD, a massive hydroelectric project on the Blue Nile just across the border from Sudan. A dream since the 1960s, the dam is meant to provide huge amounts of clean electricity for the power-starved nation, energy that could both fuel economic development and bring in cash through international electricity sales. Across several Ethiopian administrations, the dam has become a must-have project politically—especially since Ethiopians themselves underwrote its $4.6 billion cost with a popular bond issue—and that’s doubly the case this year, with parliamentary elections tentatively set for late summer or fall.
But for Egypt, the dam at the headwaters of the Nile represents a potentially existential threat. Some 90 percent of Egypt’s water comes from the Nile, and about 57 percent of that Nile water comes from the Blue Nile flows that Ethiopia is seeking to dam. And it will be a huge one: The reservoir behind the GERD, once filled, will hold about 74 billion cubic meters of water—well over a year’s worth of river flow through that location.
In recent years, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi had threatened to use military force to stop the dam’s construction, and it remains a heated subject in both the Egyptian and Ethiopian press. Sudan, caught in the literal middle between the other two countries, initially opposed the dam but came to support it since it promises irrigation and electricity benefits and a way to regulate irregular flows of water that often lead to devastating floods.
For Egypt, Ethiopia’s project is a violation of a 1959 treaty that essentially divvied up the Nile’s waters between Egypt and Sudan—cutting Ethiopia out altogether. Since then, Egypt has used even more water than it is allocated under the treaty, since Sudan’s underdeveloped economy requires less than it is entitled to. Now, Ethiopia is essentially asking Egypt to forgo supplies of water that it has come to count on, at least for the next few years.
“They disagree on the fundamentals—who owns the water,” Sullivan said. “It’s one of those water issues that looks almost unresolvable.”
The talks in Washington, and the next meeting slated for the end of the month, zero in on a critical, if seemingly technical, question, said Kevin Wheeler, an expert on Nile water issues at the University of Oxford: How fast will Ethiopia seek to fill and operate the reservoir behind the dam?
If Ethiopia, as it has often vowed to do, seeks to fill the reservoir to get its hydroelectric plant up and running quickly, that would mean less water for Egypt in the short term. But if Ethiopia fills the reservoir slowly, letting more water flow downstream, it could take years to fully realize a project that is already almost a decade in the making.
In the last round of technical talks, Ethiopia reportedly balked at Egyptian demands that the reservoir be filled over a period potentially lasting between 12 and 20 years—too distant a date for an Ethiopia that needs more immediate payback for its big investment and that has argued for a filling period lasting only five to seven years.
But what matters, Wheeler said, is less the number of years the sides agree on to fill the dam than how much water will keep flowing in the meantime—and how flexible those plans are to account for sudden periods of drought or abundant rainfall.
“The time element can be flexible based on agreed release rates,” Wheeler said, so that Ethiopia could fill the reservoir faster during rainy periods (like this year) and more slowly during droughts, like in 2015.
There are related issues that technical talks have so far failed to address, such as Ethiopia’s willingness to ensure that Egypt’s Aswan High Dam has enough water of its own to generate electricity. “Under average hydrologic conditions, the water level at the Aswan High Dam will drop, but it is not likely to fall to critical levels,” Wheeler said. “The big question is what happens if there is a drought while filling.”
That’s why Egypt initially wanted some sort of guarantee that Ethiopia would ensure the Aswan High Dam had enough water during the years it would take to fill the new dam, but so far the two sides haven’t worked out a final agreement that includes such provisions.
The five parties in talks in Washington essentially danced around the big questions but deferred their solution to a later date.
“The subsequent stages of filling will be done according to a mechanism to be agreed that determines release based upon the hydrological conditions of the Blue Nile and the level of the GERD that addresses the filling goals of Ethiopia and provides electricity generation and appropriate mitigation measures for Egypt and Sudan during prolonged periods of dry years, drought and prolonged drought,” they said in the statement.
An agreement is technically possible—but politics in both Egypt and Ethiopia have gotten in the way. The Nile’s importance to Egypt’s entire existence makes the river’s flow seem an existential question, and protecting its historic rights to Nile waters makes it a nationalistic lightning rod. Ethiopia, for its part, wants to see a speedy return on the nearly $5 billion project that successive governments have sold as critical for the country’s economic future.
If there is enough trust between the two sides, Wheeler said there are sound technical solutions to the problem, ones that would enable Ethiopia to fill the reservoir and start generating power in a reasonable amount of time while ensuring that disruptions to downstream flows to Egypt are minimal—especially if there is any repeat of the 2015 drought.
In an influential 2016 study, Wheeler and his co-authors found that as long as Ethiopia ensures a decent minimum flow of water downstream—say, 35 billion cubic meters a year—and agrees to help keep the Aswan High Dam sufficiently full during the filling process, while Egypt promises to take drought mitigation measures of its own, both sides can weather the GERD’s construction with minimal disruption.
The study concluded that “a middle ground does indeed exist” and has provided a road map for the technical talks in Washington and elsewhere.
Failing a final agreement on the dam itself, there are other potential solutions that outside powers like the United States, Europe, and Gulf countries like Saudi Arabia could use to try to address the underlying issues.
Ethiopia has abundant renewable energy resources, especially in geothermal power, Sullivan noted—something that outside investment support could help galvanize, addressing Ethiopia’s need for more electricity without resorting to the controversial hydroelectric project.
Likewise, financial support could help Egypt build expensive desalination plants that could bolster its water security, as well as help cushion the inevitable adjustments as the country seeks to make painful reforms to the way it uses water, which is largely used in inefficient flood irrigation agriculture for thirsty crops unsuitable for desert climes.
But for now, all eyes will turn to the next phase of ongoing technical talks to see if the two countries, along with Sudan, can work out a solution that meets Ethiopia’s desire to get the dam filled and operational as soon as possible while ensuring Egypt doesn’t face any water shortfalls that could dent its own power generation or stunt agriculture downstream. Contentious as those talks may be—with bitter fights over guaranteed river flows, suspicions over long-term plans for irrigation, and the ever-present fear of drought—they are better than the periodic saber-rattling that for years has threatened to spark open conflict between the two countries.
“The last thing we need is for Egypt and Ethiopia to come to blows,” Sullivan said. “It would be a total disaster for both.”


foreignpolicy--2020-01-17--Putin Is Planning a Partial Retirement

Putin Is Planning a Partial Retirement

There will be no second Vladimir Putin .
The Russian president sent out many messages in his State of the Nation address on Jan. 15 , some of them unclear and instantly debated by present-day Kremlinologists .
But one takeaway was clear .
No one individual will have the vast range of constitutional powers that Putin has enjoyed since the year 2000 in his four terms as Russian leader—or indeed be able to serve four terms as Putin has done .
Putin has now set out the road map for the transition he wants Russia to make in 2024 , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ almost certainly last presidential term .
It is a picture of continuity , in which Putin can still keep a pivotal role , even if not necessarily the most prominent one in public .
Planned changes to the constitution will limit the power of the Russian presidency and also mean that Putin himself will not be eligible to run for president in 2024 .
This will not be a repeat of the years 2008 to 2012 , when Putin took the job of prime minister and Dmitry Medvedev served four years as president @ @ @ @ @ @ @ experience of that “ tandemocracy , ” as it was sometimes called , and how he was unable fully to control his protégé , Medvedev .
Under the planned changes unveiled on Wednesday , Russia ’ s parliament will now appoint the prime minister and government .
The president will have the power to reject the nomination .
Basically , the holders of the two other main jobs of state , that of president and prime minister , will have their wings clipped , neither being as powerful as they are at the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a referendum , giving the changes a stamp of public legitimacy .
A third force , the State Council—currently a little-noticed advisory body in the Kremlin—is set to have a new enhanced role above everyone , although Putin was a little coy about what its new powers will be .
“ It would make sense to strengthen the status and role of the State Council in the Constitution of Russia , ” was all that Putin said on Wednesday .
So it seems more than likely that Putin will take the job @ @ @ @ @ @ @ served out his last constitutionally permitted presidential term .
Russia will still need a presidential figurehead , a new head of state with considerable powers , especially in foreign and security policy .
Who does Putin and his team intend to fill that role in 2024 ?
Probably not the new prime minister , Mikhail Mishustin , who is widely thought of as a mere technocrat .
Mishustin may grow into the role of presidential heir , however , as Putin himself did more than 20 years ago , when he was also @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s important to note here that Mishustin , having successfully run Russia ’ s tax service , a body that is devoted both to revenue collection and law enforcement , is half-economist , half-security official . )
Another change announced on Wednesday was that the governors of Russia ’ s regions will get increased powers .
It is more likely that the candidate to be the next president will emerge from among their ranks .
Several contenders are already being mentioned , among them two security officials who served Putin in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Dumin , who heads the Tula region , and Dmitry Mironov , the governor of Yaroslavl .
At first glance , Wednesday ’ s announcement was a humiliation for Medvedev , the perpetual No .
2 in Russian politics , who served four years as president after Putin had completed his first two terms , and who has now completed a further eight as prime minister .
His new job , deputy head of the Security Council , looks like a significant demotion .
But in actual fact the head of the security @ @ @ @ @ @ @ himself , so Medvedev is just keeping his No .
2 role in another capacity .
In the new more complex constitutional configuration , the Kremlin Security Council ( not to be confused with the State Council ) is set to have a more important role as arbiter of disputes and center of strategic decision-making .
Staffed by Putin ’ s inner circle , it is likely to be his personal Politburo over the next four years .
So by being Putin ’ s deputy in that body , Medvedev keeps the job @ @ @ @ @ @ @ known quantity and reliable option for the succession if , as so often happens in Russian court politics , things go awry .
Medvedev is a safe but not very inspiring option as far as Putin is concerned , lacking public popularity .
Russia ’ s main opposition leader , the anti-corruption activist Alexei Navalny , was also given a message : that he won ’ t even be permitted to compete .
Another proposed constitutional amendment stipulates that any future president needs to have lived in Russia for 25 years without a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ passport or residency permit .
That looks set to push Alexei Navalny , who studied in the United States at Yale University in 2010 , out of the running .
What ’ s more , it will exclude other pro-Western figures in the Russian elite who have studied or worked in the West .
The Russian patriots who make up Putin ’ s base will like that .
Overall , Putin ’ s speech is supposed to set the tone for the remaining swan song years of his presidency .
The message delivered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s titanic efforts to rebuild Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union have accomplished their goal , and that no other single person is required to bear this burden of leadership .
The executive roles will be shared out .
If we are looking for a parallel in Russian history , we need to go back to 1953 , when a collective leadership was in charge of the Soviet Union for a few years after the death of Joseph Stalin .
Moreover , the newly amended constitution will make Russian law preeminent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ longer be bound by foreign legal constraints from the European Court of Human Rights and the Council of Europe , which has been an irritant for the Russian government in many years in upholding human rights complaints from Chechnya in particular .
That means an end , the Kremlin is telling Russians , to the practice of foreigners instructing the Russian government to change its behavior toward its citizens .
Russia is imagined here as a kind of gilded cage : tightly defended on the outside , but strong and healthy within .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ with backgrounds in the KGB and other intelligence services like Putin himself , keep their role of defending the state against foreign intervention .
Capitalism and the market are maintained , but the goals of economic growth and technological modernization are entrusted to government technocrats .
In 1999 , Boris Yeltsin , beset by domestic opponents , got the better of them and named a comparatively unknown figure , Vladimir Putin , as his prime minister and then eventual successor .
Yeltsin resigned earlier than anticipated , and Putin won a smooth victory @ @ @ @ @ @ @ domestically but fears enemies abroad .
His inner circle still fears that the West could use the remaining political institutions as a weapon against him .
By setting the rules of the 2024 transition and announcing these constitutional changes so early , he is trying to stay ahead of the game and wrong-foot his top enemy : the West .

There will be no second Vladimir Putin. The Russian president sent out many messages in his State of the Nation address on Jan. 15, some of them unclear and instantly debated by present-day Kremlinologists. But one takeaway was clear. No one individual will have the vast range of constitutional powers that Putin has enjoyed since the year 2000 in his four terms as Russian leader—or indeed be able to serve four terms as Putin has done.
There will be no second Vladimir Putin. The Russian president sent out many messages in his State of the Nation address on Jan. 15, some of them unclear and instantly debated by present-day Kremlinologists. But one takeaway was clear. No one individual will have the vast range of constitutional powers that Putin has enjoyed since the year 2000 in his four terms as Russian leader—or indeed be able to serve four terms as Putin has done.
Putin has now set out the road map for the transition he wants Russia to make in 2024, the year he finishes his current and almost certainly last presidential term. It is a picture of continuity, in which Putin can still keep a pivotal role, even if not necessarily the most prominent one in public. Planned changes to the constitution will limit the power of the Russian presidency and also mean that Putin himself will not be eligible to run for president in 2024.
This will not be a repeat of the years 2008 to 2012, when Putin took the job of prime minister and Dmitry Medvedev served four years as president. Putin was evidently displeased with the experience of that “tandemocracy,” as it was sometimes called, and how he was unable fully to control his protégé, Medvedev.
Under the planned changes unveiled on Wednesday, Russia’s parliament will now appoint the prime minister and government. The president will have the power to reject the nomination. Basically, the holders of the two other main jobs of state, that of president and prime minister, will have their wings clipped, neither being as powerful as they are at the moment. All this will be approved in a referendum, giving the changes a stamp of public legitimacy.
A third force, the State Council—currently a little-noticed advisory body in the Kremlin—is set to have a new enhanced role above everyone, although Putin was a little coy about what its new powers will be. “It would make sense to strengthen the status and role of the State Council in the Constitution of Russia,” was all that Putin said on Wednesday. So it seems more than likely that Putin will take the job of head of the council, having served out his last constitutionally permitted presidential term.
Russia will still need a presidential figurehead, a new head of state with considerable powers, especially in foreign and security policy. Who does Putin and his team intend to fill that role in 2024? Probably not the new prime minister, Mikhail Mishustin, who is widely thought of as a mere technocrat. Mishustin may grow into the role of presidential heir, however, as Putin himself did more than 20 years ago, when he was also more bureaucrat than politician. (It’s important to note here that Mishustin, having successfully run Russia’s tax service, a body that is devoted both to revenue collection and law enforcement, is half-economist, half-security official.)
Another change announced on Wednesday was that the governors of Russia’s regions will get increased powers. It is more likely that the candidate to be the next president will emerge from among their ranks. Several contenders are already being mentioned, among them two security officials who served Putin in the Kremlin and are now governors: Alexey Dumin, who heads the Tula region, and Dmitry Mironov, the governor of Yaroslavl.
At first glance, Wednesday’s announcement was a humiliation for Medvedev, the perpetual No. 2 in Russian politics, who served four years as president after Putin had completed his first two terms, and who has now completed a further eight as prime minister. His new job, deputy head of the Security Council, looks like a significant demotion. But in actual fact the head of the security council is no one other than Putin himself, so Medvedev is just keeping his No. 2 role in another capacity.
In the new more complex constitutional configuration, the Kremlin Security Council (not to be confused with the State Council) is set to have a more important role as arbiter of disputes and center of strategic decision-making. Staffed by Putin’s inner circle, it is likely to be his personal Politburo over the next four years. So by being Putin’s deputy in that body, Medvedev keeps the job of being a fallback option for president—a known quantity and reliable option for the succession if, as so often happens in Russian court politics, things go awry. Medvedev is a safe but not very inspiring option as far as Putin is concerned, lacking public popularity.
Russia’s main opposition leader, the anti-corruption activist Alexei Navalny, was also given a message: that he won’t even be permitted to compete. Another proposed constitutional amendment stipulates that any future president needs to have lived in Russia for 25 years without a break and have never had a foreign passport or residency permit. That looks set to push Alexei Navalny, who studied in the United States at Yale University in 2010, out of the running. What’s more, it will exclude other pro-Western figures in the Russian elite who have studied or worked in the West. The Russian patriots who make up Putin’s base will like that.
Overall, Putin’s speech is supposed to set the tone for the remaining swan song years of his presidency. The message delivered to the public is that Putin’s titanic efforts to rebuild Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union have accomplished their goal, and that no other single person is required to bear this burden of leadership. The executive roles will be shared out. If we are looking for a parallel in Russian history, we need to go back to 1953, when a collective leadership was in charge of the Soviet Union for a few years after the death of Joseph Stalin.
Moreover, the newly amended constitution will make Russian law preeminent, which means the country will no longer be bound by foreign legal constraints from the European Court of Human Rights and the Council of Europe, which has been an irritant for the Russian government in many years in upholding human rights complaints from Chechnya in particular. That means an end, the Kremlin is telling Russians, to the practice of foreigners instructing the Russian government to change its behavior toward its citizens.
Russia is imagined here as a kind of gilded cage: tightly defended on the outside, but strong and healthy within. The security elite, the so-called siloviki with backgrounds in the KGB and other intelligence services like Putin himself, keep their role of defending the state against foreign intervention. Capitalism and the market are maintained, but the goals of economic growth and technological modernization are entrusted to government technocrats.
In 1999, Boris Yeltsin, beset by domestic opponents, got the better of them and named a comparatively unknown figure, Vladimir Putin, as his prime minister and then eventual successor. Yeltsin resigned earlier than anticipated, and Putin won a smooth victory. Now Putin himself sees no threat domestically but fears enemies abroad. His inner circle still fears that the West could use the remaining political institutions as a weapon against him. By setting the rules of the 2024 transition and announcing these constitutional changes so early, he is trying to stay ahead of the game and wrong-foot his top enemy: the West.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-17--Anatomy of an Accidental Shootdown

Anatomy of an Accidental Shootdown

As part of our Document of the Week series , Foreign Policy is posting the U.S. military investigation into the accident , along with letters from top U.S. military brass defending the commander ’ s action as justified as a result of the fog of war .
The documents—marked secret—were obtained by the Black Vault , a repository of declassified U.S. government documents founded by John E. Greenewald Jr. through Freedom of Information Act requests .
The downing of Iran Air Flight 655 occurred at the height of the 1980s war that pitted the revolutionary Islamic government of Iran against @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sides repeatedly targeted their enemies ’ shipping vessels .
At the time , Iraq enjoyed the backing of the United States .
In the spring of 1987 , the United States committed naval forces to escort American-flagged oil tankers through hostile waters in the Persian Gulf , where Iran had planted mines and targeted merchant vessels linked to Iraq and its backers .
Iran considered the U.S. action hostile because it prevented the country from responding in kind to Iraqi attacks on Iranian oil ships .
Days before the attack on the Iranian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of air raids against Iranian oil facilities and tankers .
U.S. forces in the region braced for a wave of anticipated retaliatory strikes .
Tehran , meanwhile , deployed three F-14 fighter jets from an airfield in Bushehr to a joint military-civilian airport in Bandar Abbas , while Iran ’ s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps dispatched a swarm of small armed boats to the Strait of Hormuz , where they mounted attacks on merchant vessels passing through the narrow strip of water that divides the Persian Gulf from the Gulf of Oman .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ which was instructed to investigate , came under fire from one of the small Iranian gunboats .
The crew of the USS Vincennes was still engaged in a gunfight when the Iran Air Airbus A300 lifted off from Bandar Abbas en route to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates .
Seven minutes later , the aircraft was hit , killing everyone on board .
The United States acknowledged responsibility for the attack , but top U.S. military officials claimed that Iran bore substantial responsibility because it had not taken steps to prevent the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
On the day of the attack , Marine Corps Gen. George B. Crist , the head of U.S. Central Command , ordered an investigation by Rear Adm. William M. Fogarty into what went wrong .
The probe showed how a perfect storm of miscommunication , miscalculation , and human error in the heat of battle resulted in one of the deadliest commercial tragedies in modern times .
There were several key pieces of information that convinced Rogers that his ship was facing an imminent attack .
Around the time of takeoff , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a signal that had been associated with Iran ’ s F-14 fighter jets .
An Iranian P3 surveillance plane was spotted in the vicinity , raising fears that it was looking to identify targets .
But the most decisive bit of intelligence came minutes before the shooting when an agitated crew member informed the captain that the plane was headed directly towards the USS Vincennes—and it was descending and accelerating .
The report , it turned out , was wrong .
The ship ’ s own tracking system had recorded the plane was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had not come from the doomed airplane .
The plane , flying at an altitude of 13,500 feet , “ was on a normal commercial air flight plan profile , in the assigned airway … on a continuous ascent in altitude from takeoff at Bandar Abbas to shoot down , ” Fogarty ’ s report found .
There were mitigating factors , according to the U.S. military .
The Iranian military authorities did not inform the commercial tower in Bandar Abbas that hostilities were in progress on the plane ’ s route .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a 20-mile commercial air corridor , it had veered slightly off the corridor ’ s center line .
Iran used the Bandar Abbas airfield to fly military transport planes and fighters , adding to the confusion .
Several months earlier , Iran had launched a fighter jet in support of an attack on U.S. naval forces .
Shortly before the attack , the U.S. military issued tougher rules of engagement to their commanders , granting them authority to fire on suspected enemy targets even if they had not themselves come under fire .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ July , Captain Rogers and his senior CIC [ Combat Information Center ] watch personnel acted reasonably , ” William J. Crowe Jr. , then-chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff , wrote on Aug. 18 , 1988 .
“ It is impossible in the heat of battle to double check every piece of data being reported .
This is not to suggest that Vincennes personnel performed perfectly in this incident ; they did not.
” But he added : “ As the investigation makes clear , to say there were errors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to suggest culpability.
” “ Given the time available , the Commanding Officer could hardly meet his obligation to protect his ship and crew and also clear up all of the possible ambiguities , ” he wrote .

The Jan. 8 Iranian shootdown of a Ukrainian passenger flight shortly after takeoff from Tehran Airport was not the first time that U.S.-Iranian tensions had resulted in a major commercial airline tragedy. On July 3, 1988, William C. Rogers III, the commander of the USS Vincennes, ordered the downing of an Iranian passenger plane over the Strait of Hormuz, killing 290 people from six nations. He thought it was an F-14 fighter jet intent on attacking the U.S. naval vessel.
The Jan. 8 Iranian shootdown of a Ukrainian passenger flight shortly after takeoff from Tehran Airport was not the first time that U.S.-Iranian tensions had resulted in a major commercial airline tragedy. On July 3, 1988, William C. Rogers III, the commander of the USS Vincennes, ordered the downing of an Iranian passenger plane over the Strait of Hormuz, killing 290 people from six nations. He thought it was an F-14 fighter jet intent on attacking the U.S. naval vessel.
As part of our Document of the Week series, Foreign Policy is posting the U.S. military investigation into the accident, along with letters from top U.S. military brass defending the commander’s action as justified as a result of the fog of war. The documents—marked secret—were obtained by the Black Vault, a repository of declassified U.S. government documents founded by John E. Greenewald Jr. through Freedom of Information Act requests.
The downing of Iran Air Flight 655 occurred at the height of the 1980s war that pitted the revolutionary Islamic government of Iran against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Both sides repeatedly targeted their enemies’ shipping vessels. At the time, Iraq enjoyed the backing of the United States.
In the spring of 1987, the United States committed naval forces to escort American-flagged oil tankers through hostile waters in the Persian Gulf, where Iran had planted mines and targeted merchant vessels linked to Iraq and its backers. Iran considered the U.S. action hostile because it prevented the country from responding in kind to Iraqi attacks on Iranian oil ships.
Days before the attack on the Iranian airliner, Iraq carried out a series of air raids against Iranian oil facilities and tankers. U.S. forces in the region braced for a wave of anticipated retaliatory strikes. Tehran, meanwhile, deployed three F-14 fighter jets from an airfield in Bushehr to a joint military-civilian airport in Bandar Abbas, while Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps dispatched a swarm of small armed boats to the Strait of Hormuz, where they mounted attacks on merchant vessels passing through the narrow strip of water that divides the Persian Gulf from the Gulf of Oman.
A helicopter from the USS Vincennes, which was instructed to investigate, came under fire from one of the small Iranian gunboats. The crew of the USS Vincennes was still engaged in a gunfight when the Iran Air Airbus A300 lifted off from Bandar Abbas en route to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. Seven minutes later, the aircraft was hit, killing everyone on board.
The United States acknowledged responsibility for the attack, but top U.S. military officials claimed that Iran bore substantial responsibility because it had not taken steps to prevent the commercial plane from traversing a war zone.
On the day of the attack, Marine Corps Gen. George B. Crist, the head of U.S. Central Command, ordered an investigation by Rear Adm. William M. Fogarty into what went wrong. The probe showed how a perfect storm of miscommunication, miscalculation, and human error in the heat of battle resulted in one of the deadliest commercial tragedies in modern times. There were several key pieces of information that convinced Rogers that his ship was facing an imminent attack. Around the time of takeoff, the commander’s staff picked up a signal that had been associated with Iran’s F-14 fighter jets. An Iranian P3 surveillance plane was spotted in the vicinity, raising fears that it was looking to identify targets. But the most decisive bit of intelligence came minutes before the shooting when an agitated crew member informed the captain that the plane was headed directly towards the USS Vincennes—and it was descending and accelerating.
The report, it turned out, was wrong. The ship’s own tracking system had recorded the plane was actually ascending and that the F-14 signal had not come from the doomed airplane. The plane, flying at an altitude of 13,500 feet, “was on a normal commercial air flight plan profile, in the assigned airway … on a continuous ascent in altitude from takeoff at Bandar Abbas to shoot down,” Fogarty’s report found.
There were mitigating factors, according to the U.S. military.
The Iranian military authorities did not inform the commercial tower in Bandar Abbas that hostilities were in progress on the plane’s route. While the Iranian aircraft was well within a 20-mile commercial air corridor, it had veered slightly off the corridor’s center line. Iran used the Bandar Abbas airfield to fly military transport planes and fighters, adding to the confusion. Several months earlier, Iran had launched a fighter jet in support of an attack on U.S. naval forces. Shortly before the attack, the U.S. military issued tougher rules of engagement to their commanders, granting them authority to fire on suspected enemy targets even if they had not themselves come under fire.
“Given the conditions existing on 3 July, Captain Rogers and his senior CIC [Combat Information Center] watch personnel acted reasonably,” William J. Crowe Jr., then-chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, wrote on Aug. 18, 1988. “It is impossible in the heat of battle to double check every piece of data being reported. This is not to suggest that Vincennes personnel performed perfectly in this incident; they did not.” But he added: “As the investigation makes clear, to say there were errors made and lessons learned is not necessarily to suggest culpability.”
“Given the time available, the Commanding Officer could hardly meet his obligation to protect his ship and crew and also clear up all of the possible ambiguities,” he wrote.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-17--Taiwan Needs More Than Election Victories to Fend Off China

Taiwan Needs More Than Election Victories to Fend Off China The victory of incumbent President Tsai Ing-wen in Taiwan ’ s presidential elections on Jan. 11 represents a resounding repudiation of Beijing ’ s increasing pressure on Taiwan .
But with attempts to politically subvert Taiwan frustrated , the Chinese Communist Party ( CCP ) is now far more likely to turn to forced unification via military means .
Although it ’ s always difficult to distinguish rhetoric from intention , the Chinese press has stepped up war talk .
Tackling this means rethinking Taiwan ’ s approach to its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ adopted a limited “ porcupine ” asymmetric defense strategy in the face of the superior size and capability of the People ’ s Liberation Army ( PLA ) .
By prepositioning weapons around the island and training its forces to attack invading PLA troops at every turn , Taiwan ’ s military hopes to make the island indigestible , like a porcupine to any would-be predator .
However , it remains dependent on the procurement and deterrence of conventional weapons systems .
If Tsai is to maximize the deterrence effect of Taiwan ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have to usher in a difficult national discussion about the increased role Taiwan ’ s society must play in national defense .
In the future , deterring a PLA invasion will require delaying conquest as long as possible in order to allow international military assistance to arrive , which will be difficult to do without a strong presence in urban areas .
Taiwan ’ s military is largely based outside of the urban areas in which 79 percent of Taiwan ’ s population lives , which would be the focus of any PLA @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s cities will in turn require willing Taiwanese citizens to prepare for and resist those attacks .
While the need for such an asymmetric defense is obvious , the present political prospects of reforming Taiwan ’ s Ministry of National Defense ( MND ) and enlisting public support are weak .
The MND has adopted a stubbornly resistant institutional position .
Criticism of the MND ’ s approach has not resulted in major change , in part because these alterations require public discussion that would refute the MND ’ s claims that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
If Taiwan hopes to implement the reforms needed to give the PLA second thoughts in coming years , Tsai should initiate a difficult public conversation about the threat of war and what ordinary Taiwanese can do to deter it .
Tsai ’ s challenge is that there is little precedent for legitimate public discourse about the effectiveness of Taiwan ’ s military .
In most democracies , major change is driven by public discourse and demand for action that in turn incites action by elected leaders .
But historically , such discourse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for multiple reasons .
The MND has projected an “ all is well ” image for decades , and peacetime operations do not expose combat failures that would undermine that message .
Unlike the United States , Taiwan does not have well-respected and fully independent think tanks that can openly question Taiwan ’ s generals , testify to opposing views in the Legislative Yuan , or write op-eds that expose misleading statements by military leaders and highlight gaps in strategy .
( Taiwan ’ s most prominent security think tank is led by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government , which makes it practically subordinate to the MND leadership . )
Until the past decade , the MND ’ s confidence was well justified .
Based on a strategy of symmetric defense in which Taiwan had a qualitative advantage over the PLA with more advanced weapons systems , MND leaders were reasonably confident in their deterrent effect .
But in the past decade , as the PLA ’ s advancements have tipped the balance of power in its favor , the MND has not significantly changed its strategy or its posture @ @ @ @ @ @ @ confidence to Taiwan ’ s people about its ability to deter and defeat the PLA .
Beijing ’ s military advantages have outgrown the viability of a conventional , symmetric defense strategy in Taiwan .
Under what appears to be U.S. pressure to focus more resources on an asymmetric defense strategy , Taiwan recently compromised on its desire for conventional M1A2T tanks by purchasing an additional 1,500 anti-tank missiles and 250 Stinger man-portable surface-to-air missiles that could be used asymmetrically .
It has taken other steps to implement a porcupine asymmetric defense strategy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ attack boats , but its conventional forces and high-end weapons systems remain the core of the Taiwanese armed forces .
The shift from conscription to an all-volunteer force has been the most significant change to the MND in recent years—one that has arguably left it worse off as it struggles to recruit and retain its best service members .
It is questionable whether Taiwan ’ s 175,000 active-duty soldiers—with virtually no combat experience to inform their training—are enough to deter the CCP , whose reluctance to attack may be as much a function @ @ @ @ @ @ @ capabilities as Taiwan ’ s .
MND officials may argue that projecting symbolic strength and political unity in defiance of Beijing ’ s military threats , despite the real problems , is critical .
It ’ s true that shows of strength grow more important by the day as Taiwan ’ s government is forced to counter the PLA ’ s soft-power message—combined with military provocations and shows of force—that resistance is futile .
Still , Taiwan ’ s public opinion does not appear to reflect the confidence in the military that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ strategy , calling the need for visible strength into question .
The burden of history weighs on Taiwan ’ s ability to drive policy changes in the MND from the outside .
Taiwan ’ s thriving democracy has evolved significantly from the brutal authoritarian days of Chiang Kai-shek ’ s Kuomintang ( KMT ) military government .
Despite the success of the political transition , modern democratic Taiwan inherited the KMT ’ s military , led by KMT officers unaccustomed to oversight by an opposition political party with which they disagreed .
Most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ early careers shaped under military rule and remain KMT party members .
Though the transition from Taiwan ’ s military authoritarian government to democracy put the MND under civilian control at the most senior level , that careful compromise also left it largely independent of day-to-day civilian oversight .
Exacerbating this issue , Tsai ’ s Democratic Progressive Party ( DPP ) , having no historical military ties of its own , does not benefit from the military credibility of retired officers throughout its ranks , making DPP civilian oversight of the MND—especially @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Under the DPP , Taiwan ’ s National Security Council ( NSC ) has only one midlevel official who manages MND matters .
With Tsai ’ s reelection amid broad popular support , she is better positioned than ever before to take the most difficult steps that are sorely needed to improve Taiwan ’ s defense .
Although she would be best served to enlist allies in the MND leadership as she continues to drive reforms , her agenda can also include the establishment of stronger NSC oversight over the MND ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The Taiwanese MND is in need of a civilian military oversight office—the equivalent of the U.S. Office of the Secretary of Defense—that could be housed within the NSC and should be staffed with a mix of former midlevel military officers with relationships in the MND and independent academics and PLA experts who can provide critical analysis .
Rather than confrontationally infringe on the power of existing leaders , she can lay the groundwork for major changes in the future .
As the generation of KMT military officers retires , she can identify @ @ @ @ @ @ @ create programs to enhance their development .
Such programs could include career-broadening tours at the NSC , as staffers in the Legislative Yuan , as fellows at Taiwanese and foreign universities , and training at the world ’ s best private military courses .
Together , such programs would create a stronger sense of civil-military relations in the ranks and improve her and successive administrations ’ ability to oversee the MND .
Most importantly , Tsai can now capitalize on the wave of support for her repudiation of Beijing ’ s aggressive pressure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people about the need for them to participate more actively in Taiwan ’ s defense .
This national conversation can be framed as about the future rather than the present , easing the sting of alarm in change of tone on security matters .
Together with the NSC and allies throughout society , she must make a compelling case why Taiwan ’ s taxpayers will have to fund increased defense spending , which has fallen behind China by a factor of 15 to 1 .
She can convey that despite promises once made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ large enough to deter the PLA of the future—but that rather than suffer under the harsh conscription of a newly drafted army , Taiwanese citizens could join a new reserve force or national guard that would provide attractive benefits , effective training , and good equipment while allowing people to serve in their own communities .
A new force , with new branding , would improve recruiting relative to the poor reputation of unforgiving training and espionage in the Taiwanese armed forces .
Tsai can also work with the MND to create and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ national guard that would be well funded and well equipped in order to attract Taiwan ’ s citizens and current reservists to join .
In the end , the argument boils down to this : A country determined to protect its independence needs a citizenry willing to step up and do so .

The victory of incumbent President Tsai Ing-wen in Taiwan’s presidential elections on Jan. 11 represents a resounding repudiation of Beijing’s increasing pressure on Taiwan. But with attempts to politically subvert Taiwan frustrated, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is now far more likely to turn to forced unification via military means. Although it’s always difficult to distinguish rhetoric from intention, the Chinese press has stepped up war talk.
The victory of incumbent President Tsai Ing-wen in Taiwan’s presidential elections on Jan. 11 represents a resounding repudiation of Beijing’s increasing pressure on Taiwan. But with attempts to politically subvert Taiwan frustrated, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is now far more likely to turn to forced unification via military means. Although it’s always difficult to distinguish rhetoric from intention, the Chinese press has stepped up war talk.
Tackling this means rethinking Taiwan’s approach to its defense. The Taiwanese armed forces have adopted a limited “porcupine” asymmetric defense strategy in the face of the superior size and capability of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). By prepositioning weapons around the island and training its forces to attack invading PLA troops at every turn, Taiwan’s military hopes to make the island indigestible, like a porcupine to any would-be predator. However, it remains dependent on the procurement and deterrence of conventional weapons systems. If Tsai is to maximize the deterrence effect of Taiwan’s limited military resources, she will have to usher in a difficult national discussion about the increased role Taiwan’s society must play in national defense.
In the future, deterring a PLA invasion will require delaying conquest as long as possible in order to allow international military assistance to arrive, which will be difficult to do without a strong presence in urban areas. Taiwan’s military is largely based outside of the urban areas in which 79 percent of Taiwan’s population lives, which would be the focus of any PLA invasion. Delaying the PLA in Taiwan’s cities will in turn require willing Taiwanese citizens to prepare for and resist those attacks.
While the need for such an asymmetric defense is obvious, the present political prospects of reforming Taiwan’s Ministry of National Defense (MND) and enlisting public support are weak. The MND has adopted a stubbornly resistant institutional position. Criticism of the MND’s approach has not resulted in major change, in part because these alterations require public discussion that would refute the MND’s claims that its strategy and structure are already optimal. If Taiwan hopes to implement the reforms needed to give the PLA second thoughts in coming years, Tsai should initiate a difficult public conversation about the threat of war and what ordinary Taiwanese can do to deter it.
Tsai’s challenge is that there is little precedent for legitimate public discourse about the effectiveness of Taiwan’s military. In most democracies, major change is driven by public discourse and demand for action that in turn incites action by elected leaders. But historically, such discourse has been difficult to incite in Taiwan for multiple reasons. The MND has projected an “all is well” image for decades, and peacetime operations do not expose combat failures that would undermine that message. Unlike the United States, Taiwan does not have well-respected and fully independent think tanks that can openly question Taiwan’s generals, testify to opposing views in the Legislative Yuan, or write op-eds that expose misleading statements by military leaders and highlight gaps in strategy. (Taiwan’s most prominent security think tank is led by a military general and funded by its government, which makes it practically subordinate to the MND leadership.)
Until the past decade, the MND’s confidence was well justified. Based on a strategy of symmetric defense in which Taiwan had a qualitative advantage over the PLA with more advanced weapons systems, MND leaders were reasonably confident in their deterrent effect. But in the past decade, as the PLA’s advancements have tipped the balance of power in its favor, the MND has not significantly changed its strategy or its posture, projecting an image of perhaps false confidence to Taiwan’s people about its ability to deter and defeat the PLA.
Beijing’s military advantages have outgrown the viability of a conventional, symmetric defense strategy in Taiwan. Under what appears to be U.S. pressure to focus more resources on an asymmetric defense strategy, Taiwan recently compromised on its desire for conventional M1A2T tanks by purchasing an additional 1,500 anti-tank missiles and 250 Stinger man-portable surface-to-air missiles that could be used asymmetrically. It has taken other steps to implement a porcupine asymmetric defense strategy, such as the procurement of fast attack boats, but its conventional forces and high-end weapons systems remain the core of the Taiwanese armed forces.
The shift from conscription to an all-volunteer force has been the most significant change to the MND in recent years—one that has arguably left it worse off as it struggles to recruit and retain its best service members. It is questionable whether Taiwan’s 175,000 active-duty soldiers—with virtually no combat experience to inform their training—are enough to deter the CCP, whose reluctance to attack may be as much a function of self-doubts about the PLA’s capabilities as Taiwan’s.
MND officials may argue that projecting symbolic strength and political unity in defiance of Beijing’s military threats, despite the real problems, is critical. It’s true that shows of strength grow more important by the day as Taiwan’s government is forced to counter the PLA’s soft-power message—combined with military provocations and shows of force—that resistance is futile. Still, Taiwan’s public opinion does not appear to reflect the confidence in the military that the MND seeks to inspire under its current strategy, calling the need for visible strength into question.
The burden of history weighs on Taiwan’s ability to drive policy changes in the MND from the outside. Taiwan’s thriving democracy has evolved significantly from the brutal authoritarian days of Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang (KMT) military government. Despite the success of the political transition, modern democratic Taiwan inherited the KMT’s military, led by KMT officers unaccustomed to oversight by an opposition political party with which they disagreed. Most of today’s leaders had their early careers shaped under military rule and remain KMT party members.
Though the transition from Taiwan’s military authoritarian government to democracy put the MND under civilian control at the most senior level, that careful compromise also left it largely independent of day-to-day civilian oversight. Exacerbating this issue, Tsai’s Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), having no historical military ties of its own, does not benefit from the military credibility of retired officers throughout its ranks, making DPP civilian oversight of the MND—especially disagreements on policy and strategy—even more difficult. Under the DPP, Taiwan’s National Security Council (NSC) has only one midlevel official who manages MND matters.
With Tsai’s reelection amid broad popular support, she is better positioned than ever before to take the most difficult steps that are sorely needed to improve Taiwan’s defense. Although she would be best served to enlist allies in the MND leadership as she continues to drive reforms, her agenda can also include the establishment of stronger NSC oversight over the MND’s strategy, plans, and policy. The Taiwanese MND is in need of a civilian military oversight office—the equivalent of the U.S. Office of the Secretary of Defense—that could be housed within the NSC and should be staffed with a mix of former midlevel military officers with relationships in the MND and independent academics and PLA experts who can provide critical analysis.
Rather than confrontationally infringe on the power of existing leaders, she can lay the groundwork for major changes in the future. As the generation of KMT military officers retires, she can identify rising stars in the military establishment and create programs to enhance their development. Such programs could include career-broadening tours at the NSC, as staffers in the Legislative Yuan, as fellows at Taiwanese and foreign universities, and training at the world’s best private military courses. Together, such programs would create a stronger sense of civil-military relations in the ranks and improve her and successive administrations’ ability to oversee the MND.
Most importantly, Tsai can now capitalize on the wave of support for her repudiation of Beijing’s aggressive pressure to facilitate an open discussion with her people about the need for them to participate more actively in Taiwan’s defense. This national conversation can be framed as about the future rather than the present, easing the sting of alarm in change of tone on security matters.
Together with the NSC and allies throughout society, she must make a compelling case why Taiwan’s taxpayers will have to fund increased defense spending, which has fallen behind China by a factor of 15 to 1. She can convey that despite promises once made, the all-volunteer force may not be large enough to deter the PLA of the future—but that rather than suffer under the harsh conscription of a newly drafted army, Taiwanese citizens could join a new reserve force or national guard that would provide attractive benefits, effective training, and good equipment while allowing people to serve in their own communities.
A new force, with new branding, would improve recruiting relative to the poor reputation of unforgiving training and espionage in the Taiwanese armed forces. Tsai can also work with the MND to create and invest in a reformed reserve force or national guard that would be well funded and well equipped in order to attract Taiwan’s citizens and current reservists to join. In the end, the argument boils down to this: A country determined to protect its independence needs a citizenry willing to step up and do so.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-17--Putin Is Following the Game Plan of Other Autocrats Before Him

Putin Is Following the Game Plan of Other Autocrats Before Him All of the sudden , the transition of power in Russia has begun .
In his annual state of the nation speech on Jan. 15 , Russian President Vladimir Putin surprised many by proposing constitutional changes that would redistribute power within the Russian government , giving more authority to positions Putin might himself take over when his presidential term expires in 2024 .
It ’ s not that the idea of tinkering with Russia ’ s highest law was so shocking .
After all , it was widely expected @ @ @ @ @ @ @ extend his time in power beyond 2024 .
Instead , it was the timing of his announcement—four years before he has to step down—that caught people off guard .
Yet by making the announcement now , Putin is avoiding succession pressures that could have built up over the course of the next several years and possibly triggered protests .
Already , elite infighting was intensifying as individuals jockeyed for influence amid the uncertainty over Putin ’ s future .
Moreover , the public ’ s discontent with the Russian economy , which has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to abate .
It could even worsen given Russia ’ s stagnant economic outlook .
The most significant among Putin ’ s proposed changes is the shifting of power from the presidency to the parliament .
Russia ’ s current constitution provides for a strong executive .
Although the first president under this constitution , Boris Yeltsin , was never able to fully leverage those powers , Putin has been able to maximize his role in Russian politics .
But now , Putin plans to shift control away from the president and strengthen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ parliament .
This change would pave the way for Putin to retain his influence over Russian domestic and foreign policy , albeit from a new perch .
One option for Putin is to step back into the role of prime minister , which he occupied in 1999-2000 and 2008-2012 , and strengthen the powers of that position .
This move would be akin to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan ’ s efforts to maintain power by calling a national referendum to create a strong presidential system , stepping down as prime minister , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2014 .
For Putin , this option would be risky , given that parliament and its head tend to get blamed for poor public services and economic disappointments .
And by many accounts , Putin is no longer interested in tending to the day-to-day responsibilities of running a government .
The more likely option is that Putin will step into a new role as the head of the State Council , a body he created in 2000 to advise the president but that now has little influence .
The idea of Putin transitioning @ @ @ @ @ @ @ play the senior statesman or the “ father of the nation ” role had been floating around the Kremlin for some time .
And lending credence to the theory , in his address , Putin did call for upgrading the status of the State Council .
This pathway would resemble the transition of power in Kazakhstan in 2018 .
There , President Nursultan Nazarbayev ruled Kazakhstan for almost 30 years .
Before he resigned last year , Nazarbayev strengthened the powers of the country ’ s Security Council and then became chairman of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kazakhstan ’ s effective power broker for as long as he lives .
Regardless of the precise path Putin takes , it is almost certain that he will continue to pull the strings of Russian politics for the foreseeable future .
Such an outcome is not unique to Russia .
Rather , it is the most common course for authoritarian regimes that look like Putin ’ s Russia—highly personalized and run by the same leaders for 15 years or longer .
Examining leadership transitions in all these countries , I find that in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 14 out of 37 leaders ) , leaders change the rules of the game and continue to retain power until their natural death in office .
In Syria , for example , Hafez al-Assad ruled Syria for almost 30 years until he died in office .
Closer to home , Turkmen President Saparmurat Niyazov and Uzbekistan ’ s Islam Karimov died in office after 16 and 25 years in office , respectively .
Perhaps surprisingly , this path raises the prospects that the ultimate transition to a post-Putin Russia will be relatively smooth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leaders who died of natural causes in office between 1946 and 2012 reveals that the broader regime remained intact that year 92 percent of the time .
Even highly personalized regimes such as Russia ’ s survived the death of a leader 78 percent of the time .
The experiences of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan illustrate this : Both regimes withstood the deaths of their longtime respective leaders , Niyazov and Karimov .
This is because when an autocrat dies in office , political elites tend to coalesce around a new successor .
To @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to power .
This means that rather than ushering in significant change , Putin ’ s announcement—and his eventual passing from the scene—is likely to signal a continuation of the status quo .
The announcement of Mikhail Mishustin as the country ’ s new prime minister supports this claim .
As the head of the Federal Tax Service , Mishustin was a relatively unknown figure and certainly not one who pundits thought would play a role in any transition .
In many cases of leadership transition in autocracies , leaders do seek to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at times mistakenly ) that they will be able to control them .
And if powerful members of the elite feel that they will have sway over such “ compromise figures , ” they may be more apt to go along with the decision .
It is , of course , far too soon to know if the leadership transition in Russia will follow the well-trodden path of other autocracies .
While a change in the rules of the game to allow Putin to maintain real power is the most likely outcome , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ percent of cases , longtime authoritarian leaders are ousted by mass protests .
In another 16 percent , such leaders are removed in a coup .
And the trajectory of autocracies where leadership transitions unfold in these ways is more dismal .
Data from 1946 to 2012 shows that when highly personalized dictators exited office by means other than natural death , the regime collapsed along with the leader 74 percent of the time .
Putin appears to recognize just how precarious the leadership transition in an autocracy can be , especially for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like a powerful political party to guide the transition .
By moving away from a strong presidential system , Putin likely seeks to convince the public ( and perhaps the elite around him ) of the viability of a post-Putin Russia .
In this way , he is likely looking to solve the transition problem that has plagued personalized autocracies and , in doing so , pave the way for a smooth transition that would secure his legacy as one of Russia ’ s great leaders .
The problem is that once the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Russia is broken , it becomes difficult to anticipate the nature of change that could transpire .
Even the best-laid plans sometimes go awry .

All of the sudden, the transition of power in Russia has begun. In his annual state of the nation speech on Jan. 15, Russian President Vladimir Putin surprised many by proposing constitutional changes that would redistribute power within the Russian government, giving more authority to positions Putin might himself take over when his presidential term expires in 2024.
All of the sudden, the transition of power in Russia has begun. In his annual state of the nation speech on Jan. 15, Russian President Vladimir Putin surprised many by proposing constitutional changes that would redistribute power within the Russian government, giving more authority to positions Putin might himself take over when his presidential term expires in 2024.
It’s not that the idea of tinkering with Russia’s highest law was so shocking. After all, it was widely expected that Putin would find a way to extend his time in power beyond 2024. Instead, it was the timing of his announcement—four years before he has to step down—that caught people off guard. Yet by making the announcement now, Putin is avoiding succession pressures that could have built up over the course of the next several years and possibly triggered protests. Already, elite infighting was intensifying as individuals jockeyed for influence amid the uncertainty over Putin’s future. Moreover, the public’s discontent with the Russian economy, which has grown in recent years, is unlikely to abate. It could even worsen given Russia’s stagnant economic outlook.
The most significant among Putin’s proposed changes is the shifting of power from the presidency to the parliament. Russia’s current constitution provides for a strong executive. Although the first president under this constitution, Boris Yeltsin, was never able to fully leverage those powers, Putin has been able to maximize his role in Russian politics. But now, Putin plans to shift control away from the president and strengthen the powers of the prime minister and parliament. This change would pave the way for Putin to retain his influence over Russian domestic and foreign policy, albeit from a new perch.
One option for Putin is to step back into the role of prime minister, which he occupied in 1999-2000 and 2008-2012, and strengthen the powers of that position. This move would be akin to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s efforts to maintain power by calling a national referendum to create a strong presidential system, stepping down as prime minister, and then getting himself elected president in 2014. For Putin, this option would be risky, given that parliament and its head tend to get blamed for poor public services and economic disappointments. And by many accounts, Putin is no longer interested in tending to the day-to-day responsibilities of running a government.
The more likely option is that Putin will step into a new role as the head of the State Council, a body he created in 2000 to advise the president but that now has little influence. The idea of Putin transitioning into a position in which he can play the senior statesman or the “father of the nation” role had been floating around the Kremlin for some time. And lending credence to the theory, in his address, Putin did call for upgrading the status of the State Council. This pathway would resemble the transition of power in Kazakhstan in 2018. There, President Nursultan Nazarbayev ruled Kazakhstan for almost 30 years. Before he resigned last year, Nazarbayev strengthened the powers of the country’s Security Council and then became chairman of the body for life—which will make him Kazakhstan’s effective power broker for as long as he lives.
Regardless of the precise path Putin takes, it is almost certain that he will continue to pull the strings of Russian politics for the foreseeable future. Such an outcome is not unique to Russia. Rather, it is the most common course for authoritarian regimes that look like Putin’s Russia—highly personalized and run by the same leaders for 15 years or longer. Examining leadership transitions in all these countries, I find that in nearly 40 percent of cases (or 14 out of 37 leaders), leaders change the rules of the game and continue to retain power until their natural death in office. In Syria, for example, Hafez al-Assad ruled Syria for almost 30 years until he died in office. Closer to home, Turkmen President Saparmurat Niyazov and Uzbekistan’s Islam Karimov died in office after 16 and 25 years in office, respectively.
Perhaps surprisingly, this path raises the prospects that the ultimate transition to a post-Putin Russia will be relatively smooth. A review of all 79 authoritarian leaders who died of natural causes in office between 1946 and 2012 reveals that the broader regime remained intact that year 92 percent of the time. Even highly personalized regimes such as Russia’s survived the death of a leader 78 percent of the time. The experiences of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan illustrate this: Both regimes withstood the deaths of their longtime respective leaders, Niyazov and Karimov. This is because when an autocrat dies in office, political elites tend to coalesce around a new successor. To do otherwise would risk their privileged access to power.
This means that rather than ushering in significant change, Putin’s announcement—and his eventual passing from the scene—is likely to signal a continuation of the status quo. The announcement of Mikhail Mishustin as the country’s new prime minister supports this claim. As the head of the Federal Tax Service, Mishustin was a relatively unknown figure and certainly not one who pundits thought would play a role in any transition. In many cases of leadership transition in autocracies, leaders do seek to appoint relatively weak officials, calculating (at times mistakenly) that they will be able to control them. And if powerful members of the elite feel that they will have sway over such “compromise figures,” they may be more apt to go along with the decision.
It is, of course, far too soon to know if the leadership transition in Russia will follow the well-trodden path of other autocracies. While a change in the rules of the game to allow Putin to maintain real power is the most likely outcome, others are possible. In about 16 percent of cases, longtime authoritarian leaders are ousted by mass protests. In another 16 percent, such leaders are removed in a coup. And the trajectory of autocracies where leadership transitions unfold in these ways is more dismal. Data from 1946 to 2012 shows that when highly personalized dictators exited office by means other than natural death, the regime collapsed along with the leader 74 percent of the time.
Putin appears to recognize just how precarious the leadership transition in an autocracy can be, especially for highly personalized systems that lack institutional mechanisms like a powerful political party to guide the transition. By moving away from a strong presidential system, Putin likely seeks to convince the public (and perhaps the elite around him) of the viability of a post-Putin Russia. In this way, he is likely looking to solve the transition problem that has plagued personalized autocracies and, in doing so, pave the way for a smooth transition that would secure his legacy as one of Russia’s great leaders. The problem is that once the equilibrium in a long-standing authoritarian regime like Russia is broken, it becomes difficult to anticipate the nature of change that could transpire. Even the best-laid plans sometimes go awry.