Spiteful Faces and Suicidal Tendencies

In squabbling over aid to Ukraine, the GOP is only making America more feckless and impotent.

Having spent the last few days talking to Ukraine experts, I have come to the conclusion that in this brewing crisis there is a Heaven-sent opportunity for the West to prove that it has something indispensable to offer to the world. At the same time, two immense obstacles threaten Ukraine's future: Russia's Vladimir Putin, who wants both Ukraine and the West to fail, and right-wing Republicans in the U.S. Congress, who can't be bothered with what happens to Ukraine.  

The opportunity is easily enough described: Ukrainians took to the streets to cast out a hated pro-Russian dictator and now aspire to join the other former Soviet states -- including Georgia, Moldova, and the Baltic nations -- that have moved towards the West. Their interim government is prepared to impose the kind of sacrifices necessary to qualify for Western assistance. And European and multilateral institutions are prepared to offer billions to keep the new Ukraine afloat.

Ukraine matters because it is strategically located between Europe and Russia and because, with 45 million people, it is a lot bigger than all the other Western-oriented, ex-Soviet states combined. But Ukraine is also a test case of the Western model of assistance, which uses the promise of funds to extract democratic and free-market reforms. That's why, at a moment when it is preoccupied with bolstering its own weak members, the European Union announced last week that it would furnish Ukraine with $15 billion in loans and grants.

That bitter Western medicine has done wonders for any number of ailing countries, including Turkey and Mexico, but in recent months the model has been challenged as never before.  In an article last December, I described a phenomenon I called "The Autocrats' Emergency Bailout Fund." These were cases where wealthy authoritarian leaders had dipped into their sovereign wealth fund to bail out fellow dictators.

Last summer, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the UAE agreed to spend $12 billion propping up Egypt's military government after the generals deposed a democratically-elected, though deeply unpopular, government. Then Putin rescued Ukraine from bankruptcy with an infusion of $15 billion. Both interventions allowed the enfeebled regime to spurn the International Monetary Fund and its demanding conditions (though the UAE has urged Egypt to renew negotiations with the IMF). Both favored the status quo over reform.

This is why Ukraine makes for such a powerful case. The country's crisis was precipitated when President Viktor Yanukovych refused to make the political and economic reforms demanded by the IMF and instead turned to Putin. Now Yanukovych is gone, Putin has invaded and effectively annexed the Crimea, and the new Ukrainian regime, facing bankruptcy later this year, has no salvation save the West. An IMF team is now in Ukraine, sounding the depths of the country's economic failure. Prime Minister Arseniy Yatsenyuk has already devalued the currency and made deep budget cuts, as the IMF has demanded; he has said "we will fulfill all the conditions, I repeat, all the conditions" for IMF funding.

The experts I talked to were remarkably optimistic about Ukraine's willingness to make the tough choices needed to modernize the economy, despite years of corruption and dithering and the entrenched position of a handful of oligarchs. "The advantage of having had terrible policies is that it's very easy to improve them," says Anders Aslund, a former advisor to Ukraine and now a fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics. Aslund asserts, for example, that of the $4 billion which Ukraine spent annually to subsidize the cost of gas, $3 billion went to line the pockets of the ruling clique; the $1 billion which the United States has already pledged to Ukraine could compensate those who truly depended on the subsidies. (Some portion of the international funds will also have to go to pay off Ukraine's debts to Gazprom, the Russian firm which supplies its natural gas, which is now almost certain to jack up the price.)

Aslund points out that states must reform in the immediate aftermath of democratic change, as Georgia did. Ukraine failed to do so after the Orange Revolution, in 2004; now it has a second chance. The Arab Spring has, of course, taught us to distrust the moment of euphoria; overthrowing a regime is nothing compared to shaping a new one that answers to people's needs. Ukraine has barely begun to address the immense gulf between its Europeanized west and its Russophone east; right-wing nationalists stand ready to exploit that division. Ukraine will thus be extremely vulnerable to the tension -- and one that is rapidly growing -- between Russia and the West.

Vladimir Putin has already jeopardized Ukraine's future by invading Crimea. Potential investors will have to think twice before risking their capital. If Putin sends troops into eastern Ukraine, as he now seems prepared to do, he would put Ukraine on a war footing in which the program of reform would be quickly thrown overboard. Will he? Nicu Popescu, a Ukraine expert with the European Union Institute for Security Studies, points out that Putin "tried everything short of military intervention" before concluding that he had no other effective leverage. He may up the ante once again unless President Barack Obama and his European allies can raise the price of aggression beyond what Putin feels he can afford.

The United States is the closest thing Ukraine has to a security guarantor but it also plays a crucial role in the planned economic rescue. As the largest contributor to the IMF, Washington has the most important voice in shaping bailouts. President Obama has given strong support to reforms that would double the funds available to members while modestly increasing the authority of the emerging powers at the expense of Europe and the United States. Ukraine would be able to draw an additional $600 million in "rapid-financing" funds to cover immediate shortfalls, and could receive an additional $7 billion over three years. Congressional Republicans, however, have refused to support the reform, either because minuscule sums will be transferred from the Pentagon budget or because it allegedly reduces American influence.

Of course, nothing would reduce American influence more effectively than single-handedly blocking a reform that would double the IMF's emergency lending power and satisfy the demand of rising powers for greater authority. The $1 billion in loan guarantees the United States will extend to Ukraine will be dwarfed by the reduction in available IMF funds. Administration officials have testified in Congress, and say in private, that Washington will lose its ability to shape the rescue package for Ukraine if it is seen as the obstacle to IMF reform. For this reason, those Republican leaders who actually care about the world, like Senators Lindsey Graham and John McCain, have expostulated with their brethren to pass the bill, while those who don't care, or care more about a doctrinal haggle, have dug in their heels.

Putin poses a much graver threat to Ukraine than Eric Cantor does. The Republicans may do more damage to America's global influence than they will do to Ukraine. The Russian threat has united Europe, and the Europeans will take the lead in ensuring Ukraine's economic future. This is, finally, the hour of Europe. At this supreme moment when rival models of governance clash in the heart of Eurasia, the United States will stand to the side, reinforcing the view that it has lost interest in Europe and that it prefers to lead from behind, if at all. American exceptionalism will look increasingly like a euphemism for American isolationism.

The West has an immense stake in crafting a good outcome for the Ukrainian people, who have paid in blood for the right to determine their own future. Do congressional Republicans really believe that a diminished American role is in the interest either of Ukraine or of the United States?

Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images


Here to Stay

Don't like America leading from behind in the world? Get used to it.

Lately, those bemoaning the fate of the American Experiment have discovered a new way to make themselves (and the rest of us) feel miserable. America is not only in decline and ungovernable, they say. It's withdrawing from the world.

A recent Pew survey on America's "place in the world" stunningly shows that 52 percent of those polled believe the United States should mind its own business internationally. Only 38 percent disagree -- the most out-of-whack imbalance in the almost 50-year history of Pew asking the question.

What's going on here? Is this simply a cyclical turn of the wheel that runs throughout U.S. history, where Americans want to get off the roller coaster following a particularly turbulent period. Or are there other factors afoot that suggest a deeper syndrome -- a new form of U.S. retrenchment driven by idiosyncratic factors unique to some new and unprecedented American Moment?

Weightier minds than mine have considered this issue and come to a variety of conclusions. Stephen Walt, my fellow FP contributor, commenting on a piece by Dan Drezner, argues that whatever is promoting the risk aversion, it is healthy -- a new sobriety when it comes to biting off more than we can chew abroad. (As relevant and recent history lesson, see: George W. Bush). Others, including my good friend Robert Kagan, aren't so sure. Kagan argues that the central question is not whether America can or should play a role in the world, it's whether the public actually wants to. And he believes that Barack Obama, rather than pushing back against the public's caution abroad, encourages it. David Brooks, on the other hand, argues that the real dynamic driving the retrenchment is a loss of faith and trust in big units, armies, corporations, unions, and other such entities. These days, Americans think change comes about from masses of individuals gathering in public squares, and many people look at history as if it were leaderless.

My take on these matters is somewhat different. I think the polls and the president's policies reflect a mix of situational and traditional factors, but also a new element or two. And I believe that this hodgepodge isn't a passing teenage phase. It's here to stay, and it will influence how America decides when, how, and why to project its still-formidable weight in a world that's grown so fraught.

Indeed, if you don't like America leading from behind, you'd better at least get used to it. Three key factors are driving the country's approach to the world.

Iraq and Afghanistan. These two wars weren't as consequential as Vietnam, nor nearly as costly or disastrous, but they've created their own syndrome nonetheless. They were an effort to counter a perceived existentialist threat after 9/11, not just by taking the fight to the enemy or denying him sanctuary, but by transforming battlegrounds into functioning nations. Indeed, they were not just discretionary wars; they were driven by the unattainable goal of constructing states. There was never really any way to define victory other than by leaving.

Had there been a draft in the United States, it would have been highly unlikely that America would have stayed in these wars for a decade or more. In fact, there is something very wrong about having the two longest wars in the nation's history waged by 0.5 percent of the population, particularly when there is little sense of shared obligation, challenge, or sacrifice. Is it really OK for the military to be at war if the country is not?

This kind of disconnect, particularly in losing wars, undermines national resolve. It will be a long time before another president from either political party gets into another one of these trillion-dollar social-science projects. Our economic travails and the downsizing of the military and changing nature of how we plan to fight wars guarantee it.

Broken Home. The argument that foreign policy begins at home has already been made in a compelling way by my former colleague Richard Haass. That we have serious problems on our own turf (I call them the six deadly Ds: debt, deficit, dysfunctional politics, dependence on hydrocarbons, and deteriorating educational system and infrastructure) has been evident for some time. And these are slow bleeds -- systemic challenges that evade simple or quick solutions. We will be dealing with them for years to come.

If you combine the failed wars in Iraq and Afghanistan with the nation's domestic woes, you can begin to see how retrenchment in our foreign policy may indeed be different than previous cycles. We also wanted off the roller coaster in the wake of World War II. But that war gave the country a foundation on which to build a credible post-war policy. People also had faith in government both because of the remedy it had provided during the Great Depression and because of victory in the war against Germany and Japan.

Today, the United States is in a far different position -- weaker at home and abroad, with the public left doubting its government and itself. Americans may not feel it as acutely now, but the period from the decade or so following 9/11 has left the country exhausted and hoping for better times without really believing they're coming.

Americans don't want to disengage from the world, certainly not on the economic side. But the last thing they want now is to tilt at more foreign windmills in the name of democracy, freedom, or anything else. Barring an attack on the continental United States, I'm not sure what would justify the use of military force now or in for the foreseeable future.

Our Complicated World. Today the world may actually be a less dangerous place for America. I just don't believe in these world-falling-apart analyses that suggest things abroad are actually getting worse, and we face an end-of-civilization challenge. There are fewer major conflicts in the world, fewer authoritarian powers, more democratic ones, and despite the threat from jihadists, America and its allies are holding their own. In the Middle East, the area I know best, America is actually keeping above water on several issues that really count: preventing another 9/11; getting out of Iraq and Afghanistan; and weaning itself off Arab hydrocarbons. I'm not at all sure how the fourth core issue, stopping Iran from getting nukes, will turn out. And who knows what will happen to Syria, the poster child for everything Obama's critics think is wrong with his approach to foreign policy. America may very well be dragged into doing more there.

The real problem, from the perspective of America's place in the world, is that conventional applications of U.S. military and diplomatic power are no longer well matched and as functional as they used to be, when it comes to fixing the problems that ail humanity. Clearly, in the wake of Iraq and Afghanistan, the notion that U.S. military power can be used to alter the internal character of nations that really aren't nations or to confront Vladimir Putin in Ukraine where proximity, geography, and local politics are on Russia's side isn't even worth debating. And having served in the two previous administrations and having watched this one, I don't have a great deal of confidence that the United States has the will or skill to take on seemingly intractable conflicts with any hope of resolving them.

In other words, it's not the problems have become bigger; it's that they've morphed, and the United States is out of its league.

The last serious and effective foreign policy team America had was George H.W. Bush and James Baker. In their honest moments, even they would probably concede now that the situations they were dealing with were vastly different than those the country is faced with today.


So what will happen? The United States won't be withdrawing into a shell behind its two oceans, which one historian brilliantly described once as liquid assets. (They give America a greater margin for error and for retreat, to be sure.) The county's economic interests alone will compel it to remain active in the world, and it is in the middle of the mix on just about every kinetic foreign policy issue there is, many of which may endure for a long time yet: Ukraine, Iranian nukes, the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, and a gazillion counterterrorism operations, to name a few.

How effective America will be in any of these endeavors is another matter.

All that said, Obama inherited the presidency at the end of a long arc of hyper U.S. involvement in the world, which hardly comprised a series of slam-dunk successes. It created enormous ambivalence in the world about American power and tremendous doubts at home about activities abroad. That sense of uncertainty is going to continue. The world isn't coming to an end; but neither is America going to be the master of it.

All presidential successors are bound to some degree by the actions of their predecessors. And the next president will be bound by what Obama has done and not done, caught somewhere between a world that America can no longer transform and a public that's lost a good deal of enthusiasm for transforming it. The key for the next president will be finding the balance between George W. Bush's risk readiness and Obama's risk aversion in protecting America's image and interests.