Inside the Ivory Tower

Professors of international relations counsel the leaders of today and mold the policymakers of tomorrow. But what do they think about the most pressing foreign-policy issues facing the United States? In our second exclusive survey, FP steps inside the ivory tower.

Diplomats and politicians often deride academics' lack of firsthand experience when it comes to the practice of international relations. Cold warrior Paul Nitze once said that much of what is taught to political science students is "of limited value, if not counterproductive, as a guide to the conduct of actual policy." For many policymakers, the distance from which scholars view the political process is a distinct disadvantage: Academics are simply out of touch with the realities of a rapidly changing international landscape.

Yet that distance can also have an upside. The view from the academy allows scholars to reflect dispassionately on vexing foreign-policy problems, discern underlying patterns in state behavior, anticipate future threats, and forecast the consequences of different policy options. Academics can also remain above the political fray, providing counsel to current policymakers and molding the minds of the next generation of leaders. In our second biennial survey, we pull back the curtain on what the academy thinks about some of the most pressing foreign-policy issues facing the United States today.

For the survey, we attempted to contact all international relations faculty at 1,199 four-year colleges and universities in the United States. The schools include all national research universities, master's-granting institutions, and liberal arts colleges identified by U.S. News & World Report, as well as seven military colleges. When the results were tallied, 1,112 scholars, more than 41 percent of all international relations professors in the United States, participated in our study.

What emerges is a picture of remarkable, though incomplete, consensus on the critical foreign-policy issues of our time. Across the ideological spectrum, international relations scholars agree far more on current policy and future threats than they disagree. This consensus is particularly striking on the war in Iraq: Eighty-nine percent of scholars believe that the war will ultimately decrease U.S. security. Eighty-seven percent consider the conflict unjust, and 85 percent are pessimistic about the chances of achieving a stable democracy in Iraq in the next 10–15 years. Nearly all those who responded -- 96 percent -- view the United States as less respected today than in the past, a sentiment no doubt heavily influenced by the current war. Unsurprisingly then, professors give U.S. President George W. Bush very low marks for his foreign-policy acumen. A scant 1 percent rank Bush among the most effective foreign-policy presidents of the past century.

It is possible, of course, that such consensus derives from a common set of ideological blinders. Consistent with the public perception of academics, 70 percent of international relations scholars describe themselves as liberal, whereas only 13 percent consider themselves conservative. But this liberal bent alone does not explain the scholarly consensus. Majorities of both groups believe the war in Iraq will ultimately harm U.S. security. Liberal and conservative professors are similarly like-minded when it comes to determining which presidents had the most effective foreign policies.

International relations professors also demonstrate remarkable agreement when it comes to future challenges. When asked to identify the three most important foreign-policy issues the United States will face during the next 10 years, scholars overwhelmingly point to international terrorism (50 percent), proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (45 percent), and the rise of China (40 percent). Significant minorities consider armed conflict in the Middle East (34 percent), failed states (30 percent), and global warming (29 percent) to be top concerns. Surprisingly, given the periodic alarm raised in the media about the threat of a major pandemic, only 11 percent of academics deem it to be a pressing foreign-policy issue, placing it behind both global poverty (19 percent) and resource scarcity (14 percent).

At the same time, international relations scholars' research may be shortsighted, given their own assessment of future foreign-policy challenges. Sixty-two percent of respondents believe the Middle East is the most strategically important region for the United States today, and two thirds report that East Asia will be the most important strategic region in 20 years. Yet only 7 percent of scholars identify the Middle East and just 8 percent name East Asia as the primary focus of their research. Occupants of the ivory tower, it seems, suffer from one of the disadvantages inherent in being so far removed from the policy process: They can be slow to respond to the emergence of new threats in the international system. If they hope to get a better audience with policymakers in the future, academics must do more than simply anticipate future challenges. They must engage the issues that drive policy beyond the ivory tower.


The top tier of the academy seems to change very little over time: The 10 schools named the best in the field for either a Ph.D. or a master's degree in international relations all appeared in the top 10 of our survey two years ago. The most notable change is the rise of Princeton's Ph.D. program from fourth to second place, thanks to a series of high-profile faculty hires.

For those interested in policy careers, proximity to power is key: Four of the top 10 international relations master’s programs are located in Washington, D.C. Aspiring academics should head for the left coast: California boasts three of the top 10 schools for Ph.D. programs.

For the first time, scholars were also asked to identify the best places to study international relations as an undergraduate. The list that emerges looks much like those for top graduate programs. But academics still value a liberal arts education. Several schools in the winner's circle -- such as Dartmouth, Swarthmore, and Williams -- lack graduate programs in international relations.


The war in Iraq has been controversial from the start, and the debate has naturally rippled through the classroom. When asked to identify events that have most influenced the way they teach international relations, 40 percent of scholars cite the current Iraq war. And they are far from hopeful about the likelihood of success there. The chances of establishing a stable democracy in Iraq in the next 10-15 years, according to respondents, are extremely remote. After thousands of lives lost and hundreds of billions of dollars spent, they believe the odds of success have increased very little.

A slightly different picture emerges when political ideology is factored in. Conservatives are generally more positive than liberals about the effect of the invasion on Iraq’s democratic future. Liberals, on the other hand, are much more likely to believe that the war has been counterproductive. But large majorities in both camps -- 91 percent of liberals and 66 percent of conservatives -- remain pessimistic about the odds of a democratic Iraq emerging in the years to come.


Last year, political scientists John J. Mearsheimer and Stephen M. Walt ignited a fiery debate when they questioned the influence of the Israel lobby over U.S. foreign policy in the London Review of Books. The lobby's excessive power, they argued, has benefited neither the United States nor its ally, Israel.

The article provoked a fiery response. In the pages of Foreign Policy, Mearsheimer and Walt took on their critics in a special debate, "The War Over Israel's Influence." One of the critiques of their thesis targeted their academic arrogance. "From their Olympian perch," wrote Aaron Friedberg, a political scientist at Princeton University, "the authors, apparently alone, see what is truly in America's national interest."

But to many of their fellow academics, Mearsheimer and Walt's conclusions look to be dead on. According to our survey, the overwhelming majority of international relations scholars (66 percent) agree that the Israel lobby has too much influence over U.S. foreign policy. Just 20 percent of respondents disagree. But their beliefs about the Israel lobby do not appear to trickle down to their students. Our concurrent survey of nearly 700 students in introductory international relations courses at a dozen universities reveals that students were less likely to believe that the Israel lobby exerts too much influence over U.S. foreign policy after taking the course than before.


When asked to name the top three American presidents with the best records of advancing U.S. foreign policy, international relations scholars overwhelmingly agree: A resounding 72 percent of respondents place Franklin D. Roosevelt among the top foreign-policy presidents of the past century. Notably, FDR received high marks from liberals (77 percent), moderates (66 percent), and conservatives (55 percent) alike. Two other Democrats and two Republicans round out the top five. Apparently the disgrace of the Watergate scandal does not diminish Richard Nixon's foreign-policy achievements, including establishing relations with China and negotiating major arms control treaties with the Soviet Union.

If academics are in agreement about the most capable diplomats to occupy 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, they also concur on those who have been the most deficient. Seven U.S. presidents received less than 1 percent of all responses, although George W. Bush is the only member of this group to serve in the past 30 years. Disdain for the current president’s foreign-policy record transcends ideological divisions: More conservative scholars rate Bill Clinton among the best foreign-policy presidents than George W. Bush.


Contrary to popular belief, international relations scholars are not doves. Most believe that military force is warranted under the right conditions. Unsurprisingly, given the daily reminder of the challenges of going it alone in Iraq, academics favor using force only when backed by the full weight of the international community. If a military confrontation with North Korea or Iran emerges over nuclear weapons, scholars demonstrate an extreme aversion to unilateral American action. If the U.N. Security Council authorizes force, however, approval for action skyrockets.

This support for multilateralism is remarkably stable across ideology. In the cases of both Iran and North Korea, liberals and conservatives agree that U.N.-sanctioned action is preferable. More striking are the attitudes of self-identified realists. Scholars of realism traditionally argue that international institutions such as the United Nations do not (and should not) influence the choices of states on issues of war and peace. But we found realists to be much more supportive of military intervention with a U.N. imprimatur than they are of action without such backing. Among realists, in fact, the gap between support for multilateral and unilateral intervention in North Korea is identical to the gap among scholars of the liberal tradition, whose theories explicitly favor cooperation.


How Not to Build a Fence

The United States may soon fortify its border with Mexico. But what about the fence that is already there? A close look at the disjointed, makeshift barrier reveals America's ambivalent and conflicted attitudes toward immigration.

The United States is in the midst of an intense debate over its borders. Immigration is approaching historic levels, and an all-time high of 12 million people -- one third of the foreign-born population -- are in the United States illegally. Fifty percent of them are from Mexico, and another 30 percent are from elsewhere in Central and South America. Most have entered across the 1,950-mile U.S.-Mexican border. In recent months, the two houses of the U.S. Congress have each passed immigration reform bills. The differences between the two versions are yet to be resolved, but they do have at least one important thing in common: Both mandate that hundreds of miles of new physical barriers be added to the existing 125 miles of fence along the border.

That remote, often forbidding border has now become the focus of a symbolic struggle over how Americans see themselves in the world. But symbols are open to interpretation. To many Americans, border barriers promote national security. To others, they smack of fortification and militarization by empire-building Washington bureaucrats. Meanwhile, market-oriented conservatives at the Wall Street Journal and human rights activists at the American Civil Liberties Union have both denounced the border fence as a new "Berlin Wall" -- though its purpose is to keep foreign nationals out, not citizens in.

In this controversy, few have bothered to consider the mundane, physical details of the border fence itself. But when one looks at it closely, one encounters neither a particularly imposing structure nor a gold-plated military project. Instead, it is a jerry-rigged example of American ingenuity that reflects not merely ambivalence about immigration but also the competing objectives and compromises characteristic of America's decentralized and fragmented political system. Moreover, immigration control alone was never the driving force behind the building of the barriers. Instead, border-control policies have had to piggyback on other overriding national concerns. The result is a fence that is neither as draconian and militarized as critics claim, nor as effective as supporters would like.

The oldest section of the existing border fence begins at the Pacific Ocean and continues inland for 42 miles. When construction began in 1990, this densely populated area was the busiest site of illegal entry into the United States. This "primary fence" averages only 10 feet high, and is made of corrugated steel panels about 20 inches wide and 12 feet long, welded onto upright posts. But because the corrugations run horizontally, they form a kind of ladder that makes scaling the fence easy for young and old. And because there is no continuous concrete footing, this fence is easy to dig under, especially given the region's gravelly, erosion-prone soil. Contrast that with Israel's security fence on the West Bank, which in some places is a daunting, 25-foot-high, smooth concrete wall.

Why build such a user-friendly structure? Well, the corrugated steel panels -- military surplus used to build emergency landing strips in Vietnam -- were plentiful and free. And making the fence higher and harder to climb would have required placing the panels vertically instead of horizontally, a far more complicated and costly undertaking. This project also had to be approved by a welter of state and federal agencies, including Native American tribal jurisdictions. Then there were the nongovernmental organizations: immigrant rights advocates and well-organized environmentalists concerned about protecting plant and wildlife habitats. Faced with so many parties capable of delaying or even stopping construction, the fence's political sponsors were determined to drive stakes into the ground as quickly as possible. Finally, there was the Border Patrol itself. As scores of interviews reveal, this agency did not want a fence so difficult to climb that there would be injuries, taking up the valuable time of its agents and resulting in a mountain of liability claims.

Set back about 130 feet from the primary fence is a more intimidating "secondary fence," which begins a few miles from the Pacific and continues east for 10.5 miles through the most heavily populated part of the border in San Diego County, California. This barrier has a continuous, deeply sunk concrete footing and rises up to 15 feet. Constructed of tight, heavy-gauge steel mesh, it affords very little toehold. The mesh also allows the Border Patrol to see the other side -- a safety priority for its agents. With a well-graded road, high-intensity lights, and 24-hour surveillance cameras, this precision-crafted fence has far more infrastructure than one finds on most of the border. It also cost about twice as much per mile as the primary fence.

Yet, despite all the trappings, Border Patrol agents report that individuals routinely manage to scramble over both the primary and secondary fences in less than one minute. Officials now acknowledge that the fence was never designed to stop illegal immigrants cold, just slow them down so they could be apprehended. "The fences were never meant to be more than a filter," one Border Patrol officer explained.

Perhaps most revealing about both fences is what they lack. For example, nowhere on the primary fence, sitting directly at the border, is there a south-facing flange -- out of concern that it would offend Mexico. Nor is there any barbed or razor wire on either fence. Again, the contrast with Israel's security fence is striking. Although most of that structure is a chain-link fence outfitted with sophisticated electronics, the Israeli Ministry of Defense still relies on razor wire to stop potential terrorists from making the climb. Or, compare America’s fences to the two razor-wire-topped fences that Spain has placed on the boundary between its North African territories and Morocco, on which scores of people have been injured and at least 17 have died. True, hundreds have perished along the U.S.-Mexican border, but that is because of heat and exposure, not because of a fence that maims and kills.

There is even less of a "filter" in more remote areas. In the sparsely populated eastern half of San Diego County, there is no secondary fence, only the primary fence. For several miles, it runs only 5 feet high. Further east, close to the Imperial Desert, the fence is not even constructed of steel panels, but of two metal rails, welded to vertical posts. The Border Patrol prefers a low fence for the same reason it prefers wire mesh: Its agents can see what they're up against on the other side. Then, too, stopping illegal immigrants directly at the border is less critical in remote, unpopulated areas than in densely settled neighborhoods where they can quickly disappear. As for the rail fence, it was designed to accommodate flash flooding that would knock down a more substantial structure, and in a few stretches, it is preferred because it permits the free movement of protected wildlife.

Obviously, a rail fence does little to stop the free movement of illegal immigrants. Does this mean that the whole reason for building the fence was forgotten amid all the bureaucratic jockeying? No, because as it turns out, the primary rationale for building the entire border fence was never about stopping illegal immigrants. It had more to do with the interdiction of illegal drugs, a policy goal for which there was much more political consensus. As one congressional staffer directly involved with the fence bluntly stated, "Drugs is the money train." To be sure, illegal immigration and drug traffic overlap at the border, allowing policy entrepreneurs to blur the distinction. But when the primary fence was first built in the early 1990s, choices had to be made. The result was a rail barrier in eastern San Diego County that can stop a drug smuggler's 4 x 4 vehicle, but not illegal aliens on foot.

Today, the counter-drug rationale has been superseded by counterterrorism. In 2005, the U.S. Congress granted Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff the authority to waive all laws necessary to achieve border security. Last September, he invoked that authority to end a decade-long court battle by environmentalists who were lobbying against completion of the final segment of the secondary fence, near the Pacific. As U.S. Customs and Border Protection Commissioner Robert C. Bonner put it, "Maybe this [kind of protracted dispute] was acceptable in the pre-9/11 days… But in the era of global terrorism, we just can't wait around forever to get these things done." Once again, immigration control comes in second. But if public outrage over illegal immigration continues to grow, it could overcome the constraints built into the American political system. At that point, immigration control may itself become the top priority at the border.

The U.S. Border Patrol has set up barriers like these on particularly rocky terrain, where building a fence would be difficult. It doesn't stop foot traffic,but it does prevent vehicles from driving across.

The primary fence, which averages only 10 feet high, doesn't fall exactly on the border. It actually sits two feet back, so U.S. officials can make repairs on the south side without intruding into Mexican territory. It's also easy to dig underneath, because there is no concrete footing.

A rail fence lies along eastern parts of the border in San Diego County, where there are fewer people. It allows the free movement of animals and stands up to flash flooding.

The oldest section of the fence is made of corrugated metal panels -- free military surplus from the Vietnam War. The corrugations make it easy for people to scramble over, as though they're climbing a ladder.

The secondary fence lies about 130 feet north of the primary fence, which allows plenty of space for vehicles to maneuver in between. It's made of steel mesh, so the Border Patrol can see what's on the other side. And though the secondary fence is 15 feet high, ironically its flange serves as an excellent stage for those helping others across.