foreignpolicy--2020-01-14--Praise for the Suleimani Strike Isn’t Based in Reality

Praise for the Suleimani Strike Isn ’ t Based in Reality As the Middle East convulses from the Trump administration ’ s killing of Iranian military leader Qassem Suleimani—and as U.S. military forces and their Iraqi partners endure Iran ’ s reprisals—a subset of foreign-policy veterans has cheered the decision .
As the New York Times reported on Jan. 6 , the strike even elicited praise from some of U.S. President Donald Trump ’ s consistent critics on the right , including leading Iraq War proponents who have otherwise found him too timid on the world stage .
In turn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one of the United States ’ most disastrous foreign-policy decisions—the 2003 invasion of Iraq—are spinning a tale to support the president ’ s most dangerous move to date .
It is no surprise that the arguments they are putting forward now are just as misguided as those from nearly 20 years ago .
The most prominent such argument relies on the idea that Iran and its proxies understand only the language of strength and military might .
That ’ s why , in the parlance of some supporters , the hit against Suleimani @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In truth , whatever the concept of restoring deterrence may promise in theory , it bears little resemblance to reality .
Trump ’ s defenders , including Defense Secretary Mark Esper , may claim that the strike has thrown Iran off balance .
But in truth , the level of uncertainty and risk on both sides remains extremely high .
Logic and history suggest that further attacks from Iran—via proxies , militias , or other asymmetric actions—are probable .
Indeed , even if Tehran is satisfied with its response to date , namely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Iraq that housed U.S. troops , its proxies and those inspired by them may feel no such restraint .
In any event , it is not at all clear after months of escalatory action on both sides that the events of recent days represent the end point .
After all , a supposed need to restore deterrence will always be available as justification for further military action .
As if on cue , after the strikes on Iraqi bases , Trump ’ s defenders , such as Sen. Lindsey Graham and television commentator @ @ @ @ @ @ @ additional U.S. action to—once again—restore deterrence .
Some of Trump ’ s backers have also made the case that the Suleimani operation will weaken Iran—both at home and abroad .
In their telling , the killing demonstrated to the Iranian people that their regime is not invincible and untouchable .
Some have pointed to the protests currently roiling Iran to bolster this claim .
In doing so , they ignore the backdrop of deep and persistent ( and understandable ) public anger at Tehran ’ s incompetence , corruption , and authoritarianism as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this case , Tehran ’ s initial dishonesty over the downing of the Ukrainian airliner was the trigger , much as a controversy over gas prices sparked anti-government protests late last year .
This thinking also buys into the very idea it seeks to dispel .
It implicitly accepts the premise that Suleimani was singular , even mythical .
He was prominent , of course , but he rose to power over the course of more than two decades as the commander of the elite Quds Force , a unit of the Islamic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Iran ’ s leadership has already named his successor—Esmail Ghaani , a fellow Iranian general who served as Suleimani ’ s longtime deputy .
Ghaani ’ s own rise will take time , just as Suleimani ’ s did .
Nevertheless , his path may well be easier because of the long leash he now presumably enjoys .
Iran ’ s leadership is almost certainly more willing to countenance a major operation or set of operations against the United States than before Trump ’ s strike .
And , among Iranians and sympathetic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ accrue much of the credit for avenging his predecessor if there is a more muscular response .
Boosters of the Suleimani operation have further claimed that it will have the same effect as taking out al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden and Islamic State head Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi , which they say hindered the activities of those terrorist groups .
But the counterterrorism analogy misses a key point : Nonstate actors are profoundly different from state entities , and decapitation strikes are only effective , if at all , when a network is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in this sense , is nothing like the shells of their former selves that al Qaeda or Islamic State were at the time of their leaders ’ deaths .
If anything , Suleimani ’ s death will have done little more than steel the resolve among the ranks of Iran ’ s formal military and its proxies .
Then there ’ s the broader regional dynamic , with claims from Trump supporters that Suleimani ’ s death will neutralize Tehran ’ s capabilities throughout the Middle East .
We don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a full withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq .
But it will , in all likelihood , result in a diminished U.S. footprint and a further reduction of U.S. influence in Baghdad .
With U.S. troops under lockdown , the country ’ s diplomatic presence shrinking , and the State Department warning Americans to stay away , Iran will have an advantage in cementing its hold over Iraqi politics at a key moment .
The same broader dynamic may well play out elsewhere in the region .
Finally , the strike ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Iran nuclear deal , which , in their telling , enriched and emboldened Iran and Suleimani ’ s Quds Force .
On the question of finances , the deal didn ’ t offer Tehran anywhere close to $ 150 billion , which is what Trump alleges it handed the regime .
Rather , in return for a prohibition on Iran obtaining a nuclear weapon , the United States , along with its allies , partners , and the United Nations , allowed Iran access to a fraction of that amount of its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it came to using that money , even senior Trump administration officials have publicly conceded that Iran ’ s unfrozen funds went primarily to domestic uses , including debt servicing .
Even at the height of international sanctions , however , Tehran amply funded its military forces and regional proxies .
It ’ s certainly not the case that Iran needed to have its money unfrozen to sustain military activity .
Far from it .
The IRGC has a relatively small budget , which Iran has always prioritized .
What ’ s more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Iran deal sanctions offered the corps an edge because it tends to thrive off corruption derived from the black market economy .
Iranian President Hassan Rouhani sought to take advantage of sanctions relief to marginalize the IRGC ’ s role in the Iranian economy , even attempting to roll back its government contracts .
And Iran ’ s proxy forces are even cheaper .
According to Trump administration figures , Iran has spent an estimated $ 2 billion to $ 3 billion annually to support its regional allies—money that it would have had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Then there ’ s the claim that the deal emboldened Tehran , which is just as false .
After all , when the United States was part of the agreement—under both President Barack Obama and Trump—there were no Iranian or proxy attacks on U.S. personnel in Iraq , which changed after the United States departed the deal .
Nor was there the same level and brazenness of attacks throughout the broader region aimed at undermining the United States or its partners , including the downing of a U.S. military drone , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the sophisticated assault on Saudi Arabia ’ s Abqaiq oil production facility .
Indeed , it was not the Iran deal that set the conditions for the Suleimani strike ; rather , it was Trump ’ s decision to abandon it in spite of the advice of his national security team and the assessment of the U.S. intelligence community that the deal was working .
Attempting to place blame on one of the signature foreign-policy achievements of the prior administration may be good politics for Trump ’ s base , but it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for what comes next , Esper was right about one thing when he said of the implications : “ Time will tell.
” When it does , and if history is any guide , the operation ’ s defenders will cling to arguments that have already been widely discredited—with profoundly dangerous results .

As the Middle East convulses from the Trump administration’s killing of Iranian military leader Qassem Suleimani—and as U.S. military forces and their Iraqi partners endure Iran’s reprisals—a subset of foreign-policy veterans has cheered the decision. As the New York Times reported on Jan. 6, the strike even elicited praise from some of U.S. President Donald Trump’s consistent critics on the right, including leading Iraq War proponents who have otherwise found him too timid on the world stage.
As the Middle East convulses from the Trump administration’s killing of Iranian military leader Qassem Suleimani—and as U.S. military forces and their Iraqi partners endure Iran’s reprisals—a subset of foreign-policy veterans has cheered the decision. As the New York Times reported on Jan. 6, the strike even elicited praise from some of U.S. President Donald Trump’s consistent critics on the right, including leading Iraq War proponents who have otherwise found him too timid on the world stage.
In turn, many of the ideological architects of one of the United States’ most disastrous foreign-policy decisions—the 2003 invasion of Iraq—are spinning a tale to support the president’s most dangerous move to date. It is no surprise that the arguments they are putting forward now are just as misguided as those from nearly 20 years ago.
The most prominent such argument relies on the idea that Iran and its proxies understand only the language of strength and military might. That’s why, in the parlance of some supporters, the hit against Suleimani was necessary to “restore deterrence.”
In truth, whatever the concept of restoring deterrence may promise in theory, it bears little resemblance to reality. Trump’s defenders, including Defense Secretary Mark Esper, may claim that the strike has thrown Iran off balance. But in truth, the level of uncertainty and risk on both sides remains extremely high. Logic and history suggest that further attacks from Iran—via proxies, militias, or other asymmetric actions—are probable. Indeed, even if Tehran is satisfied with its response to date, namely some 20 missiles fired at bases in Iraq that housed U.S. troops, its proxies and those inspired by them may feel no such restraint.
In any event, it is not at all clear after months of escalatory action on both sides that the events of recent days represent the end point. After all, a supposed need to restore deterrence will always be available as justification for further military action. As if on cue, after the strikes on Iraqi bases, Trump’s defenders, such as Sen. Lindsey Graham and television commentator Sean Hannity, have already called for additional U.S. action to—once again—restore deterrence.
Some of Trump’s backers have also made the case that the Suleimani operation will weaken Iran—both at home and abroad. In their telling, the killing demonstrated to the Iranian people that their regime is not invincible and untouchable. Some have pointed to the protests currently roiling Iran to bolster this claim. In doing so, they ignore the backdrop of deep and persistent (and understandable) public anger at Tehran’s incompetence, corruption, and authoritarianism as drivers of the current unrest. In this case, Tehran’s initial dishonesty over the downing of the Ukrainian airliner was the trigger, much as a controversy over gas prices sparked anti-government protests late last year.
This thinking also buys into the very idea it seeks to dispel. It implicitly accepts the premise that Suleimani was singular, even mythical. He was prominent, of course, but he rose to power over the course of more than two decades as the commander of the elite Quds Force, a unit of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). Iran’s leadership has already named his successor—Esmail Ghaani, a fellow Iranian general who served as Suleimani’s longtime deputy.
Ghaani’s own rise will take time, just as Suleimani’s did. Nevertheless, his path may well be easier because of the long leash he now presumably enjoys. Iran’s leadership is almost certainly more willing to countenance a major operation or set of operations against the United States than before Trump’s strike. And, among Iranians and sympathetic audiences throughout the region, Ghaani will accrue much of the credit for avenging his predecessor if there is a more muscular response.
Boosters of the Suleimani operation have further claimed that it will have the same effect as taking out al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden and Islamic State head Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, which they say hindered the activities of those terrorist groups. But the counterterrorism analogy misses a key point: Nonstate actors are profoundly different from state entities, and decapitation strikes are only effective, if at all, when a network is already hollowed out. The Iranian military, in this sense, is nothing like the shells of their former selves that al Qaeda or Islamic State were at the time of their leaders’ deaths. If anything, Suleimani’s death will have done little more than steel the resolve among the ranks of Iran’s formal military and its proxies.
Then there’s the broader regional dynamic, with claims from Trump supporters that Suleimani’s death will neutralize Tehran’s capabilities throughout the Middle East. We don’t yet know whether his killing will precipitate a full withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq. But it will, in all likelihood, result in a diminished U.S. footprint and a further reduction of U.S. influence in Baghdad. With U.S. troops under lockdown, the country’s diplomatic presence shrinking, and the State Department warning Americans to stay away, Iran will have an advantage in cementing its hold over Iraqi politics at a key moment. The same broader dynamic may well play out elsewhere in the region.
Finally, the strike’s defenders say it was necessary because of the Iran nuclear deal, which, in their telling, enriched and emboldened Iran and Suleimani’s Quds Force. On the question of finances, the deal didn’t offer Tehran anywhere close to $150 billion, which is what Trump alleges it handed the regime. Rather, in return for a prohibition on Iran obtaining a nuclear weapon, the United States, along with its allies, partners, and the United Nations, allowed Iran access to a fraction of that amount of its own previously frozen funds. And when it came to using that money, even senior Trump administration officials have publicly conceded that Iran’s unfrozen funds went primarily to domestic uses, including debt servicing.
Even at the height of international sanctions, however, Tehran amply funded its military forces and regional proxies. It’s certainly not the case that Iran needed to have its money unfrozen to sustain military activity. Far from it. The IRGC has a relatively small budget, which Iran has always prioritized. What’s more, the pre- (and post-) Iran deal sanctions offered the corps an edge because it tends to thrive off corruption derived from the black market economy. Iranian President Hassan Rouhani sought to take advantage of sanctions relief to marginalize the IRGC’s role in the Iranian economy, even attempting to roll back its government contracts. And Iran’s proxy forces are even cheaper. According to Trump administration figures, Iran has spent an estimated $2 billion to $3 billion annually to support its regional allies—money that it would have had even under the most intense sanctions pressure.
Then there’s the claim that the deal emboldened Tehran, which is just as false. After all, when the United States was part of the agreement—under both President Barack Obama and Trump—there were no Iranian or proxy attacks on U.S. personnel in Iraq, which changed after the United States departed the deal. Nor was there the same level and brazenness of attacks throughout the broader region aimed at undermining the United States or its partners, including the downing of a U.S. military drone, the attacks on tankers in the Gulf, and the sophisticated assault on Saudi Arabia’s Abqaiq oil production facility.
Indeed, it was not the Iran deal that set the conditions for the Suleimani strike; rather, it was Trump’s decision to abandon it in spite of the advice of his national security team and the assessment of the U.S. intelligence community that the deal was working. Attempting to place blame on one of the signature foreign-policy achievements of the prior administration may be good politics for Trump’s base, but it is not based in reality.
As for what comes next, Esper was right about one thing when he said of the implications: “Time will tell.” When it does, and if history is any guide, the operation’s defenders will cling to arguments that have already been widely discredited—with profoundly dangerous results.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-13--We Are Not Who We Think We Are

We Are Not Who We Think We Are

We Are Not Who We Think We Are The West does , of course , face challenges in an age when movements of people happen far more quickly across vast distances than ever before ; an age in which the notions of meaning and virtue are more contested ; an age where technological advancements and their corresponding impacts on society develop more rapidly .
All of that has understandable impacts on how communities and societies think of themselves and conceptualize their common bonds .
The question is , how do societies address these challenges and find answers that are likely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than exacerbate them on the altar of “ saving ourselves , ” when the notion of “ ourselves ” is a wholly mythical construct ?
A new book by the British writer Ben Ryan , who worked until recently for the religion and politics-focused think tank Theos , seeks to tackle this question .
His book , How the West Was Lost : The Decline of a Myth and the Search for New Stories , takes this distinctly Western anxiety and characterizes what many consider to be “ the West ” as something @ @ @ @ @ @ @ point of decline that may lead to its extinction as an idea .
As far as Ryan is concerned , Westerners themselves are to blame for it—because a critical mass of them no longer seem persuaded by the current formulations of what it means to be Western , and thus the West fails to be a convincing proposition altogether .
Yet , as Ryan posits , there is a chance to rescue the West from its own travails—if only Westerners could construct a new myth to gather around as they move forward in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ West as an intellectual space , rather than solely a geographical one .
His model of what the West entails has three pillars : “ the belief in a moral endpoint ; the trio of republican values ( liberty , equality , solidarity ) ; and universalism.
” Ryan correctly points out that all of these pillars are in crisis—and yet , the situation is , he argues , “ not entirely hopeless.
” The final section of the book , following Ryan ’ s take on what has happened to each of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to rebuild and renew those pillars .
For Ryan , rebuilding them is a necessity , because the Western model remains the best hope for a future world order that finds its root in virtue and morality .
Ryan identifies the West as an intellectual space , rather than solely a geographical one .
Ryan ’ s background within the world of political theology—which is evident in his writing , but also in his new professional capacity as a home affairs advisor for the Church of England , means that readers legitimately expect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , rather than a focus on the merely earthly domain of politics .
That ’ s an important element in the debate around the future of the West as well , which Ryan does touch on in terms of identifying the importance of Christianity to the formation of the West .
In this regard , he ’ s not positing Christianity as a rallying cry for promoting difference—as Hungary ’ s Prime Minister Viktor Orban does—nor in some kind of secular tribalistic fashion—as Murray does—but as the source of positive virtues , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be the historical roots of the West .
Much of what Ryan writes is a good place to start .
He is thoughtful and attempts to be inclusive , drawing far more on civic notions of patriotism rather than any reliance on ethnic nationalism , or even nationalism rooted in a religious identity .
That approach gives readers hope for progress toward a better future .
At the same time , however , some readers will be left hoping that Ryan had gone deeper and further , at times writing more critically than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ conceptualizing themselves as a Western “ us , ” European Christendom has historically done so by positioning itself against the Muslims of the Mediterranean , be they Ottomans or Arabs .
Indeed , the construction of national identities throughout the European part of the West—and in places like the United States and Australia—have ended up viewing Muslims in a particular way , usually negatively .
And when such societies consider how they go forward in the 21st century , that ’ s an obstacle that requires a massive rethinking .
That rethinking , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ needs to not construct new myths of the future—but rediscover large swaths of the past .
It ’ s a project that institutions such as the British Council have tried to bring to fruition , through enterprises like “ Our Shared Europe ” and “ Our Shared Future , ” which sought to uncover the huge amount of historical evidence that showed that Muslims and Islam played much wider historical roles internally in the West than was hitherto understood .
At a time when the likes of the far-right Orban in Hungary claim @ @ @ @ @ @ @ carrying out patently xenophobic policies , it ’ s tremendously important to transcend such rank tribalism with facts that provide a bedrock for a sustainable future .
Indeed , those inhabiting the intellectual universe of Christendom need to be clear that given the choice , they see the likes of Gabor Ivanyi—a Hungarian Christian minister who fought communism in the 1970s and now rails against Orban ’ s xenophobia—as their paragon , rather than Orban .
Ivanyi may not be perfect , but a form of Christianity that focuses on solidarity with the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ against the “ other , ” is precisely what Europe needs more of .
Such an understanding could help Westerners hold on to such values of inclusivity and pluralism , and at the same time respond to the concerns that certain people have about this multiculturalist modern age .
Ryan knows this , but his three pillars are still too narrowly defined .
And all of these three pillars have already been deconstructed by some of the best minds in Western intellectual thought , due to their internal contradictions—not simply in terms of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ realities .
After all , is “ liberty , equality , solidarity ” really what the West stood for in terms of its engagements with minorities at home , and colonized peoples abroad ?
If the West is to look for a better future , intellectuals ought to be transcending untenable readings of their history and looking for better ideas .
Ryan is admirably clear-eyed about the dangers of other ideologies masquerading as defenses of the West , including the “ great replacement ” theory that underpins much current white nationalist discourse—but Ryan @ @ @ @ @ @ @ these theories even more pointedly .
When he describes the U.K.-based academic Eric Kaufmann ’ s analysis of how , “ what is deemed to be the majority culture is more elastic than people might think ” ; and that , “ The category of what counts as ‘ white ’ is most likely to simply expand as the majority of the population inter-mixes and inter-marries , ” I instinctively wonder : should these cultures really be described as white at all ?
Rather , perhaps Ryan ought to take the critique of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ board .
Moving beyond Kaufmann ’ s suggestion to give preference to immigrants from ethnic or cultural backgrounds that are supposedly easier to assimilate , Portes suggests the British government should advocate “ a more positive approach to the impacts of immigration on communities and services at a local level – by promoting integration and channelling funding to areas where there are pressures resulting from population growth.
” In this regard , perhaps Ryan is not thinking as much out of the box as he might want to , though I suspect his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Portes ’ s .
But being more explicit is warranted , given the current caustic tone of public debate in Britain .
The same reflex comes up when Ryan describes Islam as a newcomer to the West : “ In short , the task facing the West as it relates to newcomers and Islam is essentially the challenge of this book : to find a story and moral vision through which a diverse people can come together , and to find a way to create this collective ideal without betraying what the West @ @ @ @ @ @ @ noble goal ; the only problem is that Islam isn ’ t a newcomer .
A decade ago , I wrote a book titled Muslims of Europe : The ‘ Other ’ Europeans that included an examination of Islam ’ s long European history .
But one could write an encyclopedia that focused only on the history of Muslim European communities and figures , be they in premodern Spain and Portugal or the Emirate of Sicily or indeed the many Northern and Western Europeans who became Muslims .
Framing Islam as a newcomer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is needed .
And such framing leads to a focus on salvaging broken models rather than seeking a new model for the West .
There are two fault lines here that will be crucial to the future of the West .
The first relates to the issue of “ rootedness , ” that people like the British writer David Goodhart—who has recently renounced the center-left and joined the chorus of anti-immigration voices on the right—define as those who are “ Somewheres , ” as opposed to the so-called Nowheres , who , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ real loyalty to a place .
It is also tied to concern around Blue Labour , a movement within the British Labour Party that prioritizes emphasis on what it means to be English and British ( at least in Blue Labour ’ s conception of both ) and that seeks to restore some sense of patriotism to the left .
There is already a well-developed school of thought that takes the notion of common interest and many of the imperatives of so-called progressive patriotism very seriously—it ’ s the subject of works by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ University of Bristol , and it ’ s a topic I ’ ve written on myself .
Indeed , many writers discuss the remaking of common citizenship and national identity , not their ending .
But recently much of the discussion around rootedness has become infiltrated with undercurrents of bigoted notions about nonwhite foreigners , leading to proposed solutions like Murray ’ s—ones that are basically anti-immigrant .
The West needs better than that .
Any progressive patriotism must include all citizens and give all of them proper agency in defining what inclusive @ @ @ @ @ @ @ included as the result of debate ; they should be included in actually defining the terms of that debate .
The second fault line relates to religion , as most religious minorities in the West come from nonmajority ethnic groups .
The fear of Islam is where all of these insecurities come together—a world religion being caricatured to represent all the trials of the world coming upon “ us.
” It causes even normally thoughtful , interesting writers about these wider issues , such as the British Christian writer John Milbank , to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he did when he described the Irish singer Sinead O ’ Connor as a “ civilisational traitress ” when she converted to Islam .
That fault line of religion comes up every so often in Ryan ’ s book—and when it does , this reader came away wanting more .
After all , the subject of religion always arises when pundits and intellectuals discuss the ostensible faltering of the West .
Either it is the instrumentalization of a bigoted interpretation of Christianity ( à la Orban , but also many others ) to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Western civilization—or it is the demonization of a skewed view of Islam to create an other that the Western “ we ” should wage against with all their might .
It ’ s something Ryan hints at , but he doesn ’ t go far enough .
As Ryan notes , the sociologist Rogers Brubaker has characterized this stance as “ a secularized Christianity as culture .
… It ’ s a matter of belonging rather than believing.
” He further describes the attitude as being one in which , “ We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Otherwise , we are not Christian in any substantive sense.
” Here , Ryan is to be applauded for correctly noting , “ This says far more about the West ’ s insecurities over the depth and commonality of its own values than it does about a real threat posed by Western Muslims .
It is not a lack of certainty over who Muslims are , but rather a lack of confidence in who Westerners are.
” But Ryan doesn ’ t quite seem to recognize that Muslims are not only a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been part of the West ’ s story since its inception .
That said , Ryan ’ s book is a thought-provoking read even though it stops slightly short of taking the argument to its logical conclusions in certain places—especially in terms of correcting the mistakes around dominant discourses of who “ we ” and “ they ” are .
Righting that wrong means not simply reimagining a new national myth to gather around , but Westerners forging a new narrative that dispenses with the historical marginalization of “ them ” in favor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mythical “ us.
” What is needed is a new notion of “ us ” that emerges strongly and true , based on values and principles that the peoples of the West will be able to rally around in a cohesive manner for generations to come .
Ryan ’ s book is a welcome addition to that debate .

There is something strangely comforting about a community that seems preoccupied with the notion that it is in crisis. Throughout what is commonly known as the West, there has been a slew of books, articles, and public interventions calling attention to the notion of a cultural crisis within. Such a phenomenon ought to be followed by self-reflection, self-interrogation, and retrospection. By and large, however, the past decade has seen far more of the opposite: The alarm surrounding crisis has been more of a call for “us” to attack and problematize “them,” which invariably leads to propositions such as “conditions for Muslims in Europe must be made harder across the board,” as Douglas Murray, a hardcore right-wing pundit, once argued—not to mention conspiracy theories that blame all the ills of the modern world on those who look different than “us,” meaning white Europeans, or, worse, pray differently than “we” do.
There is something strangely comforting about a community that seems preoccupied with the notion that it is in crisis. Throughout what is commonly known as the West, there has been a slew of books, articles, and public interventions calling attention to the notion of a cultural crisis within. Such a phenomenon ought to be followed by self-reflection, self-interrogation, and retrospection. By and large, however, the past decade has seen far more of the opposite: The alarm surrounding crisis has been more of a call for “us” to attack and problematize “them,” which invariably leads to propositions such as “conditions for Muslims in Europe must be made harder across the board,” as Douglas Murray, a hardcore right-wing pundit, once argued—not to mention conspiracy theories that blame all the ills of the modern world on those who look different than “us,” meaning white Europeans, or, worse, pray differently than “we” do.
The West does, of course, face challenges in an age when movements of people happen far more quickly across vast distances than ever before; an age in which the notions of meaning and virtue are more contested; an age where technological advancements and their corresponding impacts on society develop more rapidly. All of that has understandable impacts on how communities and societies think of themselves and conceptualize their common bonds. The question is, how do societies address these challenges and find answers that are likely to heal the rifts that exist rather than exacerbate them on the altar of “saving ourselves,” when the notion of “ourselves” is a wholly mythical construct?
A new book by the British writer Ben Ryan, who worked until recently for the religion and politics-focused think tank Theos, seeks to tackle this question. His book, How the West Was Lost: The Decline of a Myth and the Search for New Stories, takes this distinctly Western anxiety and characterizes what many consider to be “the West” as something of a myth that is reaching a point of decline that may lead to its extinction as an idea.
As far as Ryan is concerned, Westerners themselves are to blame for it—because a critical mass of them no longer seem persuaded by the current formulations of what it means to be Western, and thus the West fails to be a convincing proposition altogether. Yet, as Ryan posits, there is a chance to rescue the West from its own travails—if only Westerners could construct a new myth to gather around as they move forward in the 21st century.
Ryan identifies the West as an intellectual space, rather than solely a geographical one. His model of what the West entails has three pillars: “the belief in a moral endpoint; the trio of republican values (liberty, equality, solidarity); and universalism.” Ryan correctly points out that all of these pillars are in crisis—and yet, the situation is, he argues, “not entirely hopeless.” The final section of the book, following Ryan’s take on what has happened to each of these pillars, is about identifying ways to rebuild and renew those pillars. For Ryan, rebuilding them is a necessity, because the Western model remains the best hope for a future world order that finds its root in virtue and morality.
Ryan identifies the West as an intellectual space, rather than solely a geographical one.
Ryan’s background within the world of political theology—which is evident in his writing, but also in his new professional capacity as a home affairs advisor for the Church of England, means that readers legitimately expect a discussion of higher morals and ethics, rather than a focus on the merely earthly domain of politics.
That’s an important element in the debate around the future of the West as well, which Ryan does touch on in terms of identifying the importance of Christianity to the formation of the West. In this regard, he’s not positing Christianity as a rallying cry for promoting difference—as Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orban does—nor in some kind of secular tribalistic fashion—as Murray does—but as the source of positive virtues, and a recognition of what he considers to be the historical roots of the West.
Much of what Ryan writes is a good place to start. He is thoughtful and attempts to be inclusive, drawing far more on civic notions of patriotism rather than any reliance on ethnic nationalism, or even nationalism rooted in a religious identity. That approach gives readers hope for progress toward a better future. At the same time, however, some readers will be left hoping that Ryan had gone deeper and further, at times writing more critically than he does.
When it comes to conceptualizing themselves as a Western “us,” European Christendom has historically done so by positioning itself against the Muslims of the Mediterranean, be they Ottomans or Arabs. Indeed, the construction of national identities throughout the European part of the West—and in places like the United States and Australia—have ended up viewing Muslims in a particular way, usually negatively. And when such societies consider how they go forward in the 21st century, that’s an obstacle that requires a massive rethinking.
That rethinking, if it is to be meaningful, needs to not construct new myths of the future—but rediscover large swaths of the past. It’s a project that institutions such as the British Council have tried to bring to fruition, through enterprises like “Our Shared Europe” and “Our Shared Future,” which sought to uncover the huge amount of historical evidence that showed that Muslims and Islam played much wider historical roles internally in the West than was hitherto understood.
At a time when the likes of the far-right Orban in Hungary claim they are defending Christian values, while carrying out patently xenophobic policies, it’s tremendously important to transcend such rank tribalism with facts that provide a bedrock for a sustainable future. Indeed, those inhabiting the intellectual universe of Christendom need to be clear that given the choice, they see the likes of Gabor Ivanyi—a Hungarian Christian minister who fought communism in the 1970s and now rails against Orban’s xenophobia—as their paragon, rather than Orban. Ivanyi may not be perfect, but a form of Christianity that focuses on solidarity with the oppressed, rather than promoting tribalistic hate against the “other,” is precisely what Europe needs more of.
Such an understanding could help Westerners hold on to such values of inclusivity and pluralism, and at the same time respond to the concerns that certain people have about this multiculturalist modern age. Ryan knows this, but his three pillars are still too narrowly defined. And all of these three pillars have already been deconstructed by some of the best minds in Western intellectual thought, due to their internal contradictions—not simply in terms of ideas, but in terms of empirical realities. After all, is “liberty, equality, solidarity” really what the West stood for in terms of its engagements with minorities at home, and colonized peoples abroad? If the West is to look for a better future, intellectuals ought to be transcending untenable readings of their history and looking for better ideas.
Ryan is admirably clear-eyed about the dangers of other ideologies masquerading as defenses of the West, including the “great replacement” theory that underpins much current white nationalist discourse—but Ryan could identify the problems with some of these theories even more pointedly. When he describes the U.K.-based academic Eric Kaufmann’s analysis of how, “what is deemed to be the majority culture is more elastic than people might think”; and that, “The category of what counts as ‘white’ is most likely to simply expand as the majority of the population inter-mixes and inter-marries,” I instinctively wonder: should these cultures really be described as white at all?
Rather, perhaps Ryan ought to take the critique of writers such as Jonathan Portes fully on board. Moving beyond Kaufmann’s suggestion to give preference to immigrants from ethnic or cultural backgrounds that are supposedly easier to assimilate, Portes suggests the British government should advocate “a more positive approach to the impacts of immigration on communities and services at a local level – by promoting integration and channelling funding to areas where there are pressures resulting from population growth.”
In this regard, perhaps Ryan is not thinking as much out of the box as he might want to, though I suspect his argument would actually dovetail quite neatly with Portes’s. But being more explicit is warranted, given the current caustic tone of public debate in Britain.
The same reflex comes up when Ryan describes Islam as a newcomer to the West: “In short, the task facing the West as it relates to newcomers and Islam is essentially the challenge of this book: to find a story and moral vision through which a diverse people can come together, and to find a way to create this collective ideal without betraying what the West fundamentally is.” That is a perfectly noble goal; the only problem is that Islam isn’t a newcomer.
A decade ago, I wrote a book titled Muslims of Europe: The ‘Other’ Europeans that included an examination of Islam’s long European history. But one could write an encyclopedia that focused only on the history of Muslim European communities and figures, be they in premodern Spain and Portugal or the Emirate of Sicily or indeed the many Northern and Western Europeans who became Muslims. Framing Islam as a newcomer immediately restricts the scope of discussion that is needed. And such framing leads to a focus on salvaging broken models rather than seeking a new model for the West.
There are two fault lines here that will be crucial to the future of the West. The first relates to the issue of “rootedness,” that people like the British writer David Goodhart—who has recently renounced the center-left and joined the chorus of anti-immigration voices on the right—define as those who are “Somewheres,” as opposed to the so-called Nowheres, who, in his view, are cosmopolitans with no real loyalty to a place. It is also tied to concern around Blue Labour, a movement within the British Labour Party that prioritizes emphasis on what it means to be English and British (at least in Blue Labour’s conception of both) and that seeks to restore some sense of patriotism to the left.
There is already a well-developed school of thought that takes the notion of common interest and many of the imperatives of so-called progressive patriotism very seriously—it’s the subject of works by scholars such as Tariq Modood of the University of Bristol, and it’s a topic I’ve written on myself. Indeed, many writers discuss the remaking of common citizenship and national identity, not their ending. But recently much of the discussion around rootedness has become infiltrated with undercurrents of bigoted notions about nonwhite foreigners, leading to proposed solutions like Murray’s—ones that are basically anti-immigrant. The West needs better than that.
Any progressive patriotism must include all citizens and give all of them proper agency in defining what inclusive means. They shouldn’t be included as the result of debate; they should be included in actually defining the terms of that debate.
The second fault line relates to religion, as most religious minorities in the West come from nonmajority ethnic groups. The fear of Islam is where all of these insecurities come together—a world religion being caricatured to represent all the trials of the world coming upon “us.” It causes even normally thoughtful, interesting writers about these wider issues, such as the British Christian writer John Milbank, to make fanatical and outrageous assertions, as he did when he described the Irish singer Sinead O’Connor as a “civilisational traitress” when she converted to Islam.
That fault line of religion comes up every so often in Ryan’s book—and when it does, this reader came away wanting more. After all, the subject of religion always arises when pundits and intellectuals discuss the ostensible faltering of the West. Either it is the instrumentalization of a bigoted interpretation of Christianity (à la Orban, but also many others) to support a renewed core at the heart of Western civilization—or it is the demonization of a skewed view of Islam to create an other that the Western “we” should wage against with all their might. It’s something Ryan hints at, but he doesn’t go far enough.
As Ryan notes, the sociologist Rogers Brubaker has characterized this stance as “a secularized Christianity as culture. … It’s a matter of belonging rather than believing.” He further describes the attitude as being one in which, “We are Christians precisely because they are Muslims. Otherwise, we are not Christian in any substantive sense.”
Here, Ryan is to be applauded for correctly noting, “This says far more about the West’s insecurities over the depth and commonality of its own values than it does about a real threat posed by Western Muslims. It is not a lack of certainty over who Muslims are, but rather a lack of confidence in who Westerners are.” But Ryan doesn’t quite seem to recognize that Muslims are not only a part of the current Western story—they have been part of the West’s story since its inception.
That said, Ryan’s book is a thought-provoking read even though it stops slightly short of taking the argument to its logical conclusions in certain places—especially in terms of correcting the mistakes around dominant discourses of who “we” and “they” are.
Righting that wrong means not simply reimagining a new national myth to gather around, but Westerners forging a new narrative that dispenses with the historical marginalization of “them” in favor of creating what has always been a mythical “us.” What is needed is a new notion of “us” that emerges strongly and true, based on values and principles that the peoples of the West will be able to rally around in a cohesive manner for generations to come. Ryan’s book is a welcome addition to that debate.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-13--Taiwan’s Voters Show How to Beat Populism

In 2016 , political scientists began to examine a worrying hypothesis : Global support for democracy was declining .
The four years since then have seen the rise and continued support of Donald Trump in the United States , the growth and success of Brexit and the election of Boris Johnson , and the continued power of authoritarian populists as far flung as India and Hungary .
But one democracy in East Asia , Taiwan , has resisted populism ’ s appeal—for now .
Han Kuo-yu , the presidential candidate for the pro-China Chinese Nationalist Party , or Kuomintang ( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when he won the mayoral election in Kaohsiung , a stronghold of the ruling Democratic Progressive Party ( DPP ) , in 2018 .
Just months after his mayoral victory , Han ’ s popularity continued to snowball , making him the most popular pro-China politician in Taiwan .
Despite being only months into his term as mayor , Han won the KMT nomination to run against incumbent DPP President Tsai Ing-wen .
The political scientist Nathan Batto describes Han ’ s strategy as presenting politics as a “ moral choice between himself @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ordinary people ] , and a corrupt elite who control the DPP and sap the country of its vitality.
” During his mayoral run , Han ’ s main campaign slogan was simply “ get rich ” —something that he claimed could not be done under the corrupt DPP .
But Han mirrored other populist politicians in his use of racist rhetoric toward domestic workers from the Philippines , whom he referred to by a racial slur , and in his regular controversies over sexist and misogynistic comments toward women .
Han , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pro-China .
He endorses the 1992 consensus , supports strengthening ties with the Chinese Communist Party ( CCP ) , and waxes fondly of an era in Taiwan ’ s history when economic growth was easy under an authoritarian government .
In March 2019 , Han went to Hong Kong , Macao , and Shenzhen to negotiate trade deals for Kaohsiung and .
Taiwanese were upset with his visit and closed-door meetings with CCP officials , but Han insisted he was just there “ to sell fruits.
” In May , Han ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , while Tsai , still recovering from a defeating midterm and presidential primary challenge , was below 35 percent .
A month before the election , their fortunes had completely reversed : Tsai was at 51 percent and Han at 29 percent .
This last Saturday , Tsai ended up with a historic win , defeating Han by more than 2.6 million votes .
How did Taiwan overcome its populist challenger , when the United States and United Kingdom did not ?
Mobilization was the secret behind Taiwan defeating its populist threat .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ game , not necessarily an ideological victory .
Tsai and the DPP managed to mobilize 2 million more voters this election than last—a turnout rate difference of 66 percent to 75 percent .
In 2016 , Tsai won 6.9 million votes , KMT candidate Eric Chu received 3.8 million votes , and former KMT politician James Soong received 1.6 million votes .
This election , Tsai won with 8.2 million votes—a sizable increase—but Han also received 5.5 million votes .
Soong received only 600,000 votes , meaning his votes likely returned to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ abysmal polling numbers , he still finished this election significantly stronger than Chu did in 2016 and even had a bigger increase in party votes from last election than Tsai .
Tsai ’ s secret was convincing enough new voters—likely young voters—to vote this election .
The role Hong Kong played this election as a whole is debatable , but it was certainly the key behind the DPP ’ s youth voter mobilization strategy .
The dominant political cleavage in every Taiwanese presidential election is independence versus unification , and the DPP beat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ every opportunity to push young voters into the idea that this was a life-or-death struggle .
Rejecting “ one country , two systems ” was an effective way for Tsai to simultaneously articulate her support for Taiwanese sovereignty .
Han needed no help making himself look bad ; his personal image itself made Tsai seem infinitely more competent , whether it was his poor leadership during city council meetings or his drinking problem that resulted in KMT politicians asking Han to quit drinking before the election .
But most critically , he was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could defend Taiwan ’ s sovereignty better than Tsai .
Han unsuccessfully tried to match Tsai ’ s enthusiasm about defending Taiwan ’ s democracy .
He was also supportive of the Hong Kong protests , at one point infamously declaring , “ One country , two systems—over my dead body !
” But his history of contact with the CCP made his words feel empty .
Han ’ s nostalgic nationalism did little to make young Taiwanese voters feel safe .
His brand of old-school nationalism was about reliving Taiwan ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Taiwan that young people wanted to see .
It was an effective strategy for mobilizing older , pro-China voters , but for young voters , it felt like a warning sign about a politician who did not value the Taiwan of today .
Tsai ’ s return to popularity was also contingent on a number of domestic factors , including her revamped image as a relatable politician to young people .
Tsai ’ s public relations team worked relentlessly last year to boost her image from a lame-duck president to the coolest politician @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country , and protect its self-image , than the sellout Han .
A year ago , no one was excited to vote for Tsai .
After doubling down on her image as the “ Iron Cat Lady , ” along with hundreds of cat memes and YouTube appearances , Tsai became the hippest politician in Taiwan , winning back the hearts of young voters .
One other number from Saturday ’ s results further shows the total rejection of Han as a candidate but not the KMT as a party .
For @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the DPP and KMT both received a near-identical share of votes with 34 percent and 33 percent respectively , despite the DPP ’ s overwhelming success in district council elections .
When Taiwanese voters go to the ballot box , they vote three times : first for the president , then for their local district representative , and finally for which party they want to support .
Thirty-four out of Taiwan ’ s 113 seats in the Legislative Yuan go toward the proportional representation party vote .
Typically , the party vote matches @ @ @ @ @ @ @ however , the DPP and KMT were practically tied despite Tsai ’ s strong lead over Han .
This tells us that when it comes to party support , Taiwanese voters see the DPP and KMT to be on a similar standing .
Yet Tsai still won by a large margin despite her party tying with the KMT for party votes .
This shows that the pro-China voter base has rejected Han as a candidate but not the KMT as a party .
Simultaneously , pan-green candidates support Tsai as president but do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ same degree .
When faced with a populist candidate , Taiwanese voters did not simply stay home .
Despite Trump ’ s numerous populist tactics during his 2016 campaign , the U.S. voter turnout rate was practically the same as 2012 .
In the U.K. , Johnson ’ s 2019 victory had a lower voter turnout rate than 2017 .
Young voters in particular were the lowest voting cohorts in both the United States and the U.K. Taiwanese youth , however , were far more mobilized .
In the end , Han was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mobilize voters over .
His populist appeals failed , and Hong Kong gave the DPP an infinitely stronger appeal to those concerned over an encroaching China .
A strongman politician , it turned out , is vulnerable to being beaten by a stronger woman—especially when she undercuts him on the key issue of national identity .
Han and his populism have not disappeared .
He will now return to his position as mayor of Kaohsiung , where he will continue to have formal political power and a major platform with which to continue @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Taiwan ’ s pan-blue base still had more than 5 million voters who bought into Han ’ s appeal .
How the KMT ’ s future leadership responds to Han ’ s support , and whether or not Han can maintain his support in the future , will tell whether Taiwan can win the long-term war against populism .

In 2016, political scientists began to examine a worrying hypothesis : Global support for democracy was declining. The four years since then have seen the rise and continued support of Donald Trump in the United States, the growth and success of Brexit and the election of Boris Johnson, and the continued power of authoritarian populists as far flung as India and Hungary. But one democracy in East Asia, Taiwan, has resisted populism’s appeal—for now.
In 2016, political scientists began to examine a worrying hypothesis: Global support for democracy was declining. The four years since then have seen the rise and continued support of Donald Trump in the United States, the growth and success of Brexit and the election of Boris Johnson, and the continued power of authoritarian populists as far flung as India and Hungary. But one democracy in East Asia, Taiwan, has resisted populism’s appeal—for now.
Han Kuo-yu, the presidential candidate for the pro-China Chinese Nationalist Party, or Kuomintang (KMT), took Taiwan by storm when he won the mayoral election in Kaohsiung, a stronghold of the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), in 2018. Just months after his mayoral victory, Han’s popularity continued to snowball, making him the most popular pro-China politician in Taiwan. Despite being only months into his term as mayor, Han won the KMT nomination to run against incumbent DPP President Tsai Ing-wen.
The political scientist Nathan Batto describes Han’s strategy as presenting politics as a “moral choice between himself, the representative of the shumin [ordinary people], and a corrupt elite who control the DPP and sap the country of its vitality.” During his mayoral run, Han’s main campaign slogan was simply “get rich”—something that he claimed could not be done under the corrupt DPP. But Han mirrored other populist politicians in his use of racist rhetoric toward domestic workers from the Philippines, whom he referred to by a racial slur, and in his regular controversies over sexist and misogynistic comments toward women.
Han, like most KMT politicians, is adamantly pro-China. He endorses the 1992 consensus, supports strengthening ties with the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), and waxes fondly of an era in Taiwan’s history when economic growth was easy under an authoritarian government. In March 2019, Han went to Hong Kong, Macao, and Shenzhen to negotiate trade deals for Kaohsiung and . Taiwanese were upset with his visit and closed-door meetings with CCP officials, but Han insisted he was just there “to sell fruits.”
In May, Han’s approval rating was at 50 percent, while Tsai, still recovering from a defeating midterm and presidential primary challenge, was below 35 percent. A month before the election, their fortunes had completely reversed: Tsai was at 51 percent and Han at 29 percent. This last Saturday, Tsai ended up with a historic win, defeating Han by more than 2.6 million votes. How did Taiwan overcome its populist challenger, when the United States and United Kingdom did not?
Mobilization was the secret behind Taiwan defeating its populist threat. Tsai’s victory was a numbers game, not necessarily an ideological victory. Tsai and the DPP managed to mobilize 2 million more voters this election than last—a turnout rate difference of 66 percent to 75 percent. In 2016, Tsai won 6.9 million votes, KMT candidate Eric Chu received 3.8 million votes, and former KMT politician James Soong received 1.6 million votes. This election, Tsai won with 8.2 million votes—a sizable increase—but Han also received 5.5 million votes. Soong received only 600,000 votes, meaning his votes likely returned to the KMT. Even with Han’s abysmal polling numbers, he still finished this election significantly stronger than Chu did in 2016 and even had a bigger increase in party votes from last election than Tsai. Tsai’s secret was convincing enough new voters—likely young voters—to vote this election.
The role Hong Kong played this election as a whole is debatable, but it was certainly the key behind the DPP’s youth voter mobilization strategy. The dominant political cleavage in every Taiwanese presidential election is independence versus unification, and the DPP beat on the drum of Hong Kong at every opportunity to push young voters into the idea that this was a life-or-death struggle. Rejecting “one country, two systems” was an effective way for Tsai to simultaneously articulate her support for Taiwanese sovereignty.
Han needed no help making himself look bad; his personal image itself made Tsai seem infinitely more competent, whether it was his poor leadership during city council meetings or his drinking problem that resulted in KMT politicians asking Han to quit drinking before the election. But most critically, he was incredibly unsuccessful at convincing Taiwanese voters he could defend Taiwan’s sovereignty better than Tsai. Han unsuccessfully tried to match Tsai’s enthusiasm about defending Taiwan’s democracy. He was also supportive of the Hong Kong protests, at one point infamously declaring, “One country, two systems—over my dead body!” But his history of contact with the CCP made his words feel empty. Han’s nostalgic nationalism did little to make young Taiwanese voters feel safe. His brand of old-school nationalism was about reliving Taiwan’s glory days rather than protecting the new Taiwan that young people wanted to see. It was an effective strategy for mobilizing older, pro-China voters, but for young voters, it felt like a warning sign about a politician who did not value the Taiwan of today.
Tsai’s return to popularity was also contingent on a number of domestic factors, including her revamped image as a relatable politician to young people. Tsai’s public relations team worked relentlessly last year to boost her image from a lame-duck president to the coolest politician in Taiwan—and one more ready to defend the country, and protect its self-image, than the sellout Han. A year ago, no one was excited to vote for Tsai. After doubling down on her image as the “Iron Cat Lady,” along with hundreds of cat memes and YouTube appearances, Tsai became the hippest politician in Taiwan, winning back the hearts of young voters.
One other number from Saturday’s results further shows the total rejection of Han as a candidate but not the KMT as a party. For Taiwan’s proportional representation vote, the DPP and KMT both received a near-identical share of votes with 34 percent and 33 percent respectively, despite the DPP’s overwhelming success in district council elections. When Taiwanese voters go to the ballot box, they vote three times: first for the president, then for their local district representative, and finally for which party they want to support. Thirty-four out of Taiwan’s 113 seats in the Legislative Yuan go toward the proportional representation party vote. Typically, the party vote matches the presidential vote. This year, however, the DPP and KMT were practically tied despite Tsai’s strong lead over Han. This tells us that when it comes to party support, Taiwanese voters see the DPP and KMT to be on a similar standing. Yet Tsai still won by a large margin despite her party tying with the KMT for party votes. This shows that the pro-China voter base has rejected Han as a candidate but not the KMT as a party. Simultaneously, pan-green candidates support Tsai as president but do not endorse the DPP nearly to the same degree.
When faced with a populist candidate, Taiwanese voters did not simply stay home. Despite Trump’s numerous populist tactics during his 2016 campaign, the U.S. voter turnout rate was practically the same as 2012. In the U.K., Johnson’s 2019 victory had a lower voter turnout rate than 2017. Young voters in particular were the lowest voting cohorts in both the United States and the U.K. Taiwanese youth, however, were far more mobilized. In the end, Han was an easy target for the DPP to mobilize voters over. His populist appeals failed, and Hong Kong gave the DPP an infinitely stronger appeal to those concerned over an encroaching China. A strongman politician, it turned out, is vulnerable to being beaten by a stronger woman—especially when she undercuts him on the key issue of national identity.
Han and his populism have not disappeared. He will now return to his position as mayor of Kaohsiung, where he will continue to have formal political power and a major platform with which to continue to grow his dedicated base of support. Taiwan’s pan-blue base still had more than 5 million voters who bought into Han’s appeal. How the KMT’s future leadership responds to Han’s support, and whether or not Han can maintain his support in the future, will tell whether Taiwan can win the long-term war against populism.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-13--Why Iran Is Deporting Scores of Afghan Refugees

Why Iran Is Deporting Scores of Afghan Refugees It had been more than three decades since 48-year-old Zahra , who asked to be identified only by her first name , left Afghanistan with her husband to escape the increasing violence that would plague her country for many years to come .
“ I was married at 13 years , and soon after my husband and I moved to Iran seeking a better life for the family we wanted to start , ” Zahra , now a widow of many years , told me this past December .
She was surrounded @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 12 and 17 years .
Two days before we spoke , the family of four had been detained by the Iranian police .
In a matter of hours , their lives were turned upside down .
“ We were on our way to Mashhad to attend a wedding when we were stopped .
They arrested us .
Our refugee cards were canceled .
We didn ’ t get to defend ourselves .
I begged them to not send us back , but they didn ’ t listen , ” she narrated her ordeal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at the edge of the large reception hall for refugees in Islam Qala , a town in Herat province , on Afghanistan ’ s western border .
The enormous structure , opened by the Norwegian Refugee Council in April 2019 , supports an equally massive humanitarian operation sheltering hundreds of the thousand or so Afghan refugees who are sent back from Iran every day .
They are dropped off at a spot known as “ Zero Point ” —a neutral location between the two countries—where several international organizations work alongside Afghan government agencies @ @ @ @ @ @ @ responsible for smooth coordination among the many international and Afghan agencies working at Zero Point .
And lately , the hours have been long .
“ They start the deportations a little after noon daily , ” he said of the Iranian police .
“ Once the Afghans get here , we first give them a hot meal , since many have spent days in detention , possibly facing hardship and mistreatment.
” After that , he said , “ we register them and try to better understand their needs , whether its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ transportation to families or relatives around Afghanistan.
” According to Qaderi , women and children like Zahra and her family are worst affected by the deportations .
“ Of the forced deportees this year , 1,172 were women , and 140 were unaccompanied , ” he said .
“ Another 1,752 were unaccompanied children , sometimes young girls 16 to 17 years of age , who report to us of being sexually abused by the authorities , ” Qaderi added , recalling several cases of young girls separated from their families and forced @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in detention .
As she waited her turn to register herself and her children at the reception center , Zahra found a seat closer to the doors facing the crossing at Zero Point .
From her vantage point , she could see across the border into Iran , her home for nearly 35 years .
“ We didn ’ t even get to bring back our belongings , ” she said as she cried silently .
The cacophony of the large room filled with hundreds of others did not seem to affect her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her mind .
“ We have some distant family in Farah province .
We will request them to shelter us until we can figure out our fate .
We have nowhere else to go.
” This was her children ’ s first time in their parents ’ homeland .
Zahra had hoped they would return to see family in happier times , not in the terrifying circumstances in which they now found themselves .
Close by , her oldest child , 17-year-old Ali , was frantically calling anyone and everyone he knows in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mother and siblings , he seemed determined not to let the shock of their situation overwhelm him .
As the oldest male of the family , Ali takes his responsibility for them very seriously .
“ I am going to find a way to get my family to safety , and tomorrow , I will smuggle my way back to Iran , to our home , ” he told me .
He had already reached out to human smugglers to help , an arrangement that would possibly cost the family thousands of dollars @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rapidly declining security situation in Afghanistan , coupled with a weaker economy there , compels many deportees to make fresh attempts to make it back over the border .
While there are no accurate numbers on how many make the journey back , those working at Zero Point suspect that over 50 percent of the deported will try , some several times and despite inhumane treatment from the people smugglers they hire .
“ The anecdotal evidence we are receiving from returnees , ” Nick Bishop , a program manager at the International @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kabul in December , “ shows abuse by people smugglers , who hand them over to criminal groups , where they are placed in captivity and have to pay ransoms to be released.
” In recent weeks , he said , “ we have seen families of 18 persons and another of seven members who were taken in by smugglers and then forced to pay an exorbitant ransom fee after being held in captivity for eight days.
” In the process , most of the Afghans lose everything but the clothes on their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ come with them .
Many Afghans in Iran work as undocumented laborers , and they are prone to exploitation and abuse .
“ There are cases of people working as bonded laborers where employers … may not even pay in hard currency but sometimes with drugs , ” Bishop told me .
Indeed , drug addiction among returnees from Iran remains extremely high .
“ In some worst cases , they simply hand them over to the authorities when it ’ s time to pay their salaries , ” he added .
Those @ @ @ @ @ @ @ badly , physically abused , and extorted for money .
The deportations may also be a way for Tehran to remind Kabul of its dependence on its Western neighbor .
Afghanistan imports close to $ 2 billion of goods annually from Iran , making it the country ’ s largest trade partner .
Iran has also been keen to maintain influence in Afghanistan ’ s security .
It has also recruited Afghans into the Fatemiyoun Brigade , an Afghan militia that is part of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps ’ s Quds Force @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the precariousness of the refugees , humanitarian workers guess that tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of Afghans still try to make it to Iran each year .
Why ?
“ If you were an Afghan , you would know the answer to that , ” Qaderi said .
“ Because you are not Afghan , it is hard for you to imagine why someone would risk so much to find a safer place to earn a few hundred afghanis.
” As a former displaced person himself , he is familiar with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for an uncertain future .
“ When you have no work , no food to feed your family , when you are deep in insecurity , and when people around you are hurt and killed for no fault of theirs in a war you did not start , then you will understand why Afghans chose the miserable life in Iran.
” Ali , reflecting similar sentiments , explained his resolve to return to Iran , “ It is not safe for us here .
The security is worse than when my parents left @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is also no work , ” he said in between calls to distant family in Afghanistan and to friends to help him arrange funds for his journey back .
“ One of my uncles was picked up by the Taliban 10 years ago , and no one has heard from him since .
We suspect he was killed , but we can ’ t even give him a funeral.
” As tensions heighten in the Middle East after the United States ’ killing of the Iranian military commander Qassem Suleimani , humanitarian workers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ along the border .
Although Kabul has assured the United States and Iran that Afghan soil will not be used to launch strikes against any country , the already exploited Afghan refugees remain under threat in a country where they sought shelter .

It had been more than three decades since 48-year-old Zahra, who asked to be identified only by her first name, left Afghanistan with her husband to escape the increasing violence that would plague her country for many years to come. “I was married at 13 years, and soon after my husband and I moved to Iran seeking a better life for the family we wanted to start,” Zahra, now a widow of many years, told me this past December.
It had been more than three decades since 48-year-old Zahra, who asked to be identified only by her first name, left Afghanistan with her husband to escape the increasing violence that would plague her country for many years to come. “I was married at 13 years, and soon after my husband and I moved to Iran seeking a better life for the family we wanted to start,” Zahra, now a widow of many years, told me this past December.
She was surrounded by her three children, aged between 12 and 17 years. Two days before we spoke, the family of four had been detained by the Iranian police. In a matter of hours, their lives were turned upside down. “We were on our way to Mashhad to attend a wedding when we were stopped. They arrested us. Our refugee cards were canceled. We didn’t get to defend ourselves. I begged them to not send us back, but they didn’t listen,” she narrated her ordeal as she sat on a hard bench at the edge of the large reception hall for refugees in Islam Qala, a town in Herat province, on Afghanistan’s western border.
The enormous structure, opened by the Norwegian Refugee Council in April 2019, supports an equally massive humanitarian operation sheltering hundreds of the thousand or so Afghan refugees who are sent back from Iran every day. They are dropped off at a spot known as “Zero Point”—a neutral location between the two countries—where several international organizations work alongside Afghan government agencies to help reintegrate them.
According to data from the International Organization for Migration, as of the first week of this past December, a total of 451,073 Afghans returned from Iran in 2019 alone. Of these, 254,343 were forced deportees. “We have three categories of returnees—documented voluntary returnees, undocumented voluntary returnees, and forced deportees.” The forced deportees are the most vulnerable cases, continues Mobeen Sofiya Qaderi, the manager of the reception center and an official at the Afghan Ministry of Refugees and Repatriation.
Qaderi is responsible for smooth coordination among the many international and Afghan agencies working at Zero Point. And lately, the hours have been long. “They start the deportations a little after noon daily,” he said of the Iranian police. “Once the Afghans get here, we first give them a hot meal, since many have spent days in detention, possibly facing hardship and mistreatment.” After that, he said, “we register them and try to better understand their needs, whether its health care, shelter, and even transportation to families or relatives around Afghanistan.”
According to Qaderi, women and children like Zahra and her family are worst affected by the deportations. “Of the forced deportees this year, 1,172 were women, and 140 were unaccompanied,” he said. “Another 1,752 were unaccompanied children, sometimes young girls 16 to 17 years of age, who report to us of being sexually abused by the authorities,” Qaderi added, recalling several cases of young girls separated from their families and forced to return to Afghanistan after spending days in detention.
As she waited her turn to register herself and her children at the reception center, Zahra found a seat closer to the doors facing the crossing at Zero Point. From her vantage point, she could see across the border into Iran, her home for nearly 35 years. “We didn’t even get to bring back our belongings,” she said as she cried silently. The cacophony of the large room filled with hundreds of others did not seem to affect her; there were more immediate concerns on her mind. “We have some distant family in Farah province. We will request them to shelter us until we can figure out our fate. We have nowhere else to go.” This was her children’s first time in their parents’ homeland. Zahra had hoped they would return to see family in happier times, not in the terrifying circumstances in which they now found themselves.
Close by, her oldest child, 17-year-old Ali, was frantically calling anyone and everyone he knows in Afghanistan who could help. Unlike his mother and siblings, he seemed determined not to let the shock of their situation overwhelm him. As the oldest male of the family, Ali takes his responsibility for them very seriously. “I am going to find a way to get my family to safety, and tomorrow, I will smuggle my way back to Iran, to our home,” he told me. He had already reached out to human smugglers to help, an arrangement that would possibly cost the family thousands of dollars they don’t have.
The rapidly declining security situation in Afghanistan, coupled with a weaker economy there, compels many deportees to make fresh attempts to make it back over the border. While there are no accurate numbers on how many make the journey back, those working at Zero Point suspect that over 50 percent of the deported will try, some several times and despite inhumane treatment from the people smugglers they hire. “The anecdotal evidence we are receiving from returnees,” Nick Bishop, a program manager at the International Organization for Migration, told me in Kabul in December, “shows abuse by people smugglers, who hand them over to criminal groups, where they are placed in captivity and have to pay ransoms to be released.” In recent weeks, he said, “we have seen families of 18 persons and another of seven members who were taken in by smugglers and then forced to pay an exorbitant ransom fee after being held in captivity for eight days.”
In the process, most of the Afghans lose everything but the clothes on their backs. Their serious social problems also come with them. Many Afghans in Iran work as undocumented laborers, and they are prone to exploitation and abuse. “There are cases of people working as bonded laborers where employers … may not even pay in hard currency but sometimes with drugs,” Bishop told me. Indeed, drug addiction among returnees from Iran remains extremely high. “In some worst cases, they simply hand them over to the authorities when it’s time to pay their salaries,” he added. Those detained in Iran for deportation are treated badly, physically abused, and extorted for money.
After the fall of the Taliban regime in 2001, many Afghans voluntarily returned home from Iran in hopes of rebuilding their lives in a more stable Afghanistan. However as the security situation started to deteriorate after 2009, an increasing number of Afghans started to leave for Europe via Iran. As this number steadily increased, there was also an increase in deportations from Iran, with a noticeable spike from 2014 onward.
The deportations may also be a way for Tehran to remind Kabul of its dependence on its Western neighbor. Afghanistan imports close to $2 billion of goods annually from Iran, making it the country’s largest trade partner. Iran has also been keen to maintain influence in Afghanistan’s security. It has also recruited Afghans into the Fatemiyoun Brigade, an Afghan militia that is part of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps’s Quds Force, to fight in Syria.
Despite the precariousness of the refugees, humanitarian workers guess that tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of Afghans still try to make it to Iran each year. Why? “If you were an Afghan, you would know the answer to that,” Qaderi said. “Because you are not Afghan, it is hard for you to imagine why someone would risk so much to find a safer place to earn a few hundred afghanis.” As a former displaced person himself, he is familiar with the trauma and pain of leaving home for an uncertain future. “When you have no work, no food to feed your family, when you are deep in insecurity, and when people around you are hurt and killed for no fault of theirs in a war you did not start, then you will understand why Afghans chose the miserable life in Iran.”
Ali, reflecting similar sentiments, explained his resolve to return to Iran, “It is not safe for us here. The security is worse than when my parents left. And as a result, there is also no work,” he said in between calls to distant family in Afghanistan and to friends to help him arrange funds for his journey back. “One of my uncles was picked up by the Taliban 10 years ago, and no one has heard from him since. We suspect he was killed, but we can’t even give him a funeral.”
As tensions heighten in the Middle East after the United States’ killing of the Iranian military commander Qassem Suleimani, humanitarian workers worry about the fate of Afghans caught along the border. Although Kabul has assured the United States and Iran that Afghan soil will not be used to launch strikes against any country, the already exploited Afghan refugees remain under threat in a country where they sought shelter.


foreignpolicy--2020-01-13--The Global Policeman Will Always Shoot People

The Global Policeman Will Always Shoot People Was U.S. President Donald Trump ’ s order to kill Iranian military commander Qassem Suleimani by drone strike justifiable ?
Trump ’ s surrogates have argued that the drone strike represented an appropriate response to a credible and imminent threat .
Critics point out that Suleimani was an administrator , not an operator ; that evidence for an imminent threat has not been produced and may be fictional ; and that the United States had plenty of other tools to address the issue .
Implicit in both positions is a long-standing argument about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : They exceed the law because they are a response to an ongoing emergency .
Yet drone strikes are no longer exceptions but a normalized part of American power .
To grasp the assassination ’ s relationship to law , it may be better to think about it in light of recent police killings in the United States—as an exemplary instance of police power .
The strike represents the ordinary activity of police taken to a geopolitical scale .
The defining feature of policing is discretion .
Police decide when and how to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , often in a split-second decision .
Sometimes discretion means choosing to issue a warning .
Often it means citation or arrest .
Occasionally it means pulling the trigger .
Theorists of policing consider discretion inevitable because police encounter such varied , surprising , and confusing situations on a daily basis .
For police , discretion is the possibility of avoiding being bound by law in the act of enforcing the law .
Exceeding , circumventing , or breaking rules that apply to regular people as a given situation warrants it is the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Police are authorized to answer exigencies with coercion .
This makes policing an executive form of power , guided by officers ’ ability to identify and manage threats .
The law needs police to enforce it , but police do not need the law to offer them detailed guidelines as they do so .
When police kill , oversight occurs after the fact .
Investigators assess whether officers have adhered to a patchwork of internal protocols .
These are designed according to loose boundaries set in Supreme Court decisions that authorize but never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of policing is distinctive .
At the top of the hierarchy are chiefs , pressed to lower crime rates and foster good community relations by mayors , city councils , and voters .
In the middle are the commanding officers who decide where and how to deploy resources to achieve these goals .
They typically have some flexibility .
Down at the bottom are patrol officers , who decide on a minute-to-minute basis how to maintain social order .
They have the greatest discretion , chiefs the least .
Discretion increases as you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ military is the reverse organizationally , with discretion increasing as you ascend the chain of command .
Soldiers and drone operators typically operate under strict guidelines called rules of engagement , which U.S. police lack .
Commanding officers make tactical decisions about where and when engagement should occur .
Up the ladder of rank , military leaders develop strategy , planning for the long term .
Many decisions are left to their expertise , informed by intelligence .
At the top is an echelon of civilians , including the National Security Council , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of course , the president .
The executive maintains the greatest discretion to steer U.S. global strategy .
Suleimani ’ s killing illustrates how military power and police power have converged in contemporary U.S. security operations .
Under the claim that a threat was imminent—which seasoned observers recognized as flimsy , if not completely false—Trump acted unilaterally , with extreme prejudice .
Although the president did not literally pull the trigger , the drone operator who did had no discretion .
That operator could not have let Suleimani off with a warning .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ The drone strike illustrates how the United States has globalized its police beat .
The underlying assumption is that U.S. leaders are rightful arbiters of what Theodore Roosevelt once called “ chronic wrongdoing ” requiring an international police power .
A drone ’ s reach facilitates this evaluation .
Even as claims of imminent threat swirled , Suleimani ’ s long biography factored in as well .
The killing may have been ugly , but , as the press loves to say of the dead , he was no angel anyway .
Reports @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most severe on a menu of options given to the president for dealing with turmoil or chronic wrongdoing in the region .
After exhibiting what hard-liners like Secretary of State Mike Pompeo considered undue restraint in prior confrontations with Iran , Trump chose the opposite .
Given this discretionary decision , it was up to Trump ’ s surrogates to craft the legal reasoning in the hours and days after the killing and to notify Congress .
This reasoning is becoming circular .
Presidents enjoy broad prerogative on national security , and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Suleimani would also prove it .
Whether justified under constitutional authority ( Article II , as clarified by the War Powers Resolution ) or statutory authority ( George W. Bush-era Authorizations for Use of Military Force , or AUMFs ) , the claim of imminent threat came ex post facto , once lawyers worried it was needed .
Notifying Congress turns the killing into an act of war , but the fact that the administration had no intention of informing Congress in advance suggests that it saw the killing as a routine discretionary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ power but of police power .
Trump is not inventing something new here .
The era of drone strikes that President Barack Obama inaugurated differs in a crucial way from what immediately preceded it , even as a single legislative architecture underwrites both via the AUMFs .
For Bush , stopping an imminent threat , “ a ticking time bomb , ” was the reliable justification for torture .
Today , imminent threats summon a different response .
Instead of capture and interrogation , targeted killing is often preferable .
Suleimani ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ official , however .
By virtue of his position in a complex bureaucracy , Suleimani ’ s death would be unlikely to halt any attack plans already in the works .
Trump ’ s critics argue the killing may increase security threats .
The legal reasoning Obama ’ s Justice Department developed to justify drone strikes recognizes this possibility by invoking policing .
A 2011 white paper notes that speed limits do not apply to a police officer trying to catch a fleeing criminal .
An officer may violate the law to enforce @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by speeding inherently ranks lower than the threat posed by a criminal , as evidenced by the extreme measures the officer employs to try to catch him .
It is always difficult to determine after a targeted killing whether a threat actually was imminent .
In this case , supporting evidence acquired by intelligence agencies is unlikely to become public , nor will skeptics believe it anyway .
Strong intelligence could help Trump ’ s case that he did nothing illegal , but he is unlikely to face any legal challenges precisely because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wide latitude .
This is also reminiscent of policing .
Police executives use the phrase “ good shooting ” when officers who have killed someone claim that their lives were endangered .
A constraint on using such force would be unreasonable because of the threat the victim posed , as the 2011 white paper acknowledges .
When police kill , courts have determined that the test of whether it was justified is if , in the moment , officers ’ actions were “ objectively reasonable.
” One way to interpret this finding is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a similar set of training and skills would also feel an imminent threat .
The problem is that only police are endowed with what the sociologist Egon Bittner defined as the right to “ coerce a provisional solution upon emergent problems without having to brook or defer to opposition of any kind.
” Police discretion actually operates within a limited scope : kill , jail , or control , as one former Los Angeles Police Department deputy chief declared while stationed in Saigon in 1964 , globalizing U.S. police power .
Even if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ officer to shoot Michael Brown or Tamir Rice in the moment , the other available options were also coercive .
The outcome of the situation was predetermined by the officer ’ s presence : some form of control of a suspect , living or dead .
On the global stage , Trump has arrogated to himself the desire , though not the actual ability , to exert control as well .
In turn , the president will not be controlled by a democratic will .
His ability to make such a discretionary decision @ @ @ @ @ @ @ This is an old script , dating at least to Harry Truman ’ s secret decision to drop the atomic bomb .
The bureaucratic infrastructure of technocratic security expertise , unanswerable to the people , also dates to Truman ’ s presidency , with the creation of the peacetime national security state .
About it , we might ask an impossible question : What place does this unanswerable discretionary decision-making authority hold in a democracy ?
The aftermath of the Suleimani assassination remains unknowable , but the conditions that enabled it were surprisingly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be a reassessment of whether the chief executive should be endowed with the type of discretionary executive power already given on an everyday basis to police .

Was U.S. President Donald Trump’s order to kill Iranian military commander Qassem Suleimani by drone strike justifiable? Trump’s surrogates have argued that the drone strike represented an appropriate response to a credible and imminent threat. Critics point out that Suleimani was an administrator, not an operator; that evidence for an imminent threat has not been produced and may be fictional; and that the United States had plenty of other tools to address the issue. Implicit in both positions is a long-standing argument about drone strikes made by proponents and detractors: They exceed the law because they are a response to an ongoing emergency.
Was U.S. President Donald Trump’s order to kill Iranian military commander Qassem Suleimani by drone strike justifiable? Trump’s surrogates have argued that the drone strike represented an appropriate response to a credible and imminent threat. Critics point out that Suleimani was an administrator, not an operator; that evidence for an imminent threat has not been produced and may be fictional; and that the United States had plenty of other tools to address the issue. Implicit in both positions is a long-standing argument about drone strikes made by proponents and detractors: They exceed the law because they are a response to an ongoing emergency.
Yet drone strikes are no longer exceptions but a normalized part of American power. To grasp the assassination’s relationship to law, it may be better to think about it in light of recent police killings in the United States—as an exemplary instance of police power. The strike represents the ordinary activity of police taken to a geopolitical scale.
The defining feature of policing is discretion. Police decide when and how to intervene in various situations on the spot, often in a split-second decision. Sometimes discretion means choosing to issue a warning. Often it means citation or arrest. Occasionally it means pulling the trigger. Theorists of policing consider discretion inevitable because police encounter such varied, surprising, and confusing situations on a daily basis.
For police, discretion is the possibility of avoiding being bound by law in the act of enforcing the law. Exceeding, circumventing, or breaking rules that apply to regular people as a given situation warrants it is the essence of what patrol officers do. Police are authorized to answer exigencies with coercion. This makes policing an executive form of power, guided by officers’ ability to identify and manage threats. The law needs police to enforce it, but police do not need the law to offer them detailed guidelines as they do so. When police kill, oversight occurs after the fact. Investigators assess whether officers have adhered to a patchwork of internal protocols. These are designed according to loose boundaries set in Supreme Court decisions that authorize but never define discretion.
Organizationally, the bureaucracy of policing is distinctive. At the top of the hierarchy are chiefs, pressed to lower crime rates and foster good community relations by mayors, city councils, and voters. In the middle are the commanding officers who decide where and how to deploy resources to achieve these goals. They typically have some flexibility. Down at the bottom are patrol officers, who decide on a minute-to-minute basis how to maintain social order. They have the greatest discretion, chiefs the least. Discretion increases as you descend the chain of command.
The military is the reverse organizationally, with discretion increasing as you ascend the chain of command. Soldiers and drone operators typically operate under strict guidelines called rules of engagement, which U.S. police lack. Commanding officers make tactical decisions about where and when engagement should occur. Up the ladder of rank, military leaders develop strategy, planning for the long term. Many decisions are left to their expertise, informed by intelligence. At the top is an echelon of civilians, including the National Security Council, the secretary of defense, and, of course, the president. The executive maintains the greatest discretion to steer U.S. global strategy.
Suleimani’s killing illustrates how military power and police power have converged in contemporary U.S. security operations. Under the claim that a threat was imminent—which seasoned observers recognized as flimsy, if not completely false—Trump acted unilaterally, with extreme prejudice. Although the president did not literally pull the trigger, the drone operator who did had no discretion. That operator could not have let Suleimani off with a warning. Only Trump has that executive ability.
The drone strike illustrates how the United States has globalized its police beat. The underlying assumption is that U.S. leaders are rightful arbiters of what Theodore Roosevelt once called “chronic wrongdoing” requiring an international police power. A drone’s reach facilitates this evaluation. Even as claims of imminent threat swirled, Suleimani’s long biography factored in as well. The killing may have been ugly, but, as the press loves to say of the dead, he was no angel anyway.
Reports have indicated that this assassination was the most severe on a menu of options given to the president for dealing with turmoil or chronic wrongdoing in the region. After exhibiting what hard-liners like Secretary of State Mike Pompeo considered undue restraint in prior confrontations with Iran, Trump chose the opposite. Given this discretionary decision, it was up to Trump’s surrogates to craft the legal reasoning in the hours and days after the killing and to notify Congress.
This reasoning is becoming circular. Presidents enjoy broad prerogative on national security, and the killing proves it. But not killing Suleimani would also prove it. Whether justified under constitutional authority (Article II, as clarified by the War Powers Resolution) or statutory authority (George W. Bush-era Authorizations for Use of Military Force, or AUMFs), the claim of imminent threat came ex post facto, once lawyers worried it was needed. Notifying Congress turns the killing into an act of war, but the fact that the administration had no intention of informing Congress in advance suggests that it saw the killing as a routine discretionary act, not an example of war power but of police power.
Trump is not inventing something new here. The era of drone strikes that President Barack Obama inaugurated differs in a crucial way from what immediately preceded it, even as a single legislative architecture underwrites both via the AUMFs. For Bush, stopping an imminent threat, “a ticking time bomb,” was the reliable justification for torture.
Today, imminent threats summon a different response. Instead of capture and interrogation, targeted killing is often preferable. Suleimani’s killing is the first of a government official, however. By virtue of his position in a complex bureaucracy, Suleimani’s death would be unlikely to halt any attack plans already in the works.
Trump’s critics argue the killing may increase security threats. The legal reasoning Obama’s Justice Department developed to justify drone strikes recognizes this possibility by invoking policing. A 2011 white paper notes that speed limits do not apply to a police officer trying to catch a fleeing criminal. An officer may violate the law to enforce it. The threat to safety posed by speeding inherently ranks lower than the threat posed by a criminal, as evidenced by the extreme measures the officer employs to try to catch him.
It is always difficult to determine after a targeted killing whether a threat actually was imminent. In this case, supporting evidence acquired by intelligence agencies is unlikely to become public, nor will skeptics believe it anyway. Strong intelligence could help Trump’s case that he did nothing illegal, but he is unlikely to face any legal challenges precisely because the national security rubric affords him such wide latitude.
This is also reminiscent of policing. Police executives use the phrase “good shooting” when officers who have killed someone claim that their lives were endangered. A constraint on using such force would be unreasonable because of the threat the victim posed, as the 2011 white paper acknowledges. When police kill, courts have determined that the test of whether it was justified is if, in the moment, officers’ actions were “objectively reasonable.” One way to interpret this finding is that anyone in a similar situation with a similar set of training and skills would also feel an imminent threat.
The problem is that only police are endowed with what the sociologist Egon Bittner defined as the right to “coerce a provisional solution upon emergent problems without having to brook or defer to opposition of any kind.” Police discretion actually operates within a limited scope: kill, jail, or control, as one former Los Angeles Police Department deputy chief declared while stationed in Saigon in 1964, globalizing U.S. police power. Even if it had been objectively reasonable for an officer to shoot Michael Brown or Tamir Rice in the moment, the other available options were also coercive. The outcome of the situation was predetermined by the officer’s presence: some form of control of a suspect, living or dead.
On the global stage, Trump has arrogated to himself the desire, though not the actual ability, to exert control as well. In turn, the president will not be controlled by a democratic will. His ability to make such a discretionary decision is what insulates him from democracy. This is an old script, dating at least to Harry Truman’s secret decision to drop the atomic bomb. The bureaucratic infrastructure of technocratic security expertise, unanswerable to the people, also dates to Truman’s presidency, with the creation of the peacetime national security state. About it, we might ask an impossible question: What place does this unanswerable discretionary decision-making authority hold in a democracy?
The aftermath of the Suleimani assassination remains unknowable, but the conditions that enabled it were surprisingly ordinary. Perhaps the best outcome would be a reassessment of whether the chief executive should be endowed with the type of discretionary executive power already given on an everyday basis to police.