Why they hate us (II): How many Muslims has the U.S. killed in the past 30 years?

Tom Friedman had an especially fatuous column in Sunday's New York Times, which is saying something given his well-established capacity for smug self-assurance. According to Friedman, the big challenge we face in the Arab and Islamic world is "the Narrative" -- his patronizing term for Muslim views about America's supposedly negative role in the region. If Muslims weren't so irrational, he thinks, they would recognize that "U.S. foreign policy has been largely dedicated to rescuing Muslims or trying to help free them from tyranny." He concedes that we made a few mistakes here and there (such as at Abu Ghraib), but the real problem is all those anti-American fairy tales that Muslims tell each other to avoid taking responsibility for their own actions.

I heard a different take on this subject at a recent conference on U.S. relations with the Islamic world. In addition to hearing a diverse set of views from different Islamic countries, one of the other participants (a prominent English journalist) put it quite simply. "If the United States wants to improve its image in the Islamic world," he said, "it should stop killing Muslims."

Now I don't think the issue is quite that simple, but the comment got me thinking: How many Muslims has the United States killed in the past thirty years, and how many Americans have been killed by Muslims? Coming up with a precise answer to this question is probably impossible, but it is also not necessary, because the rough numbers are so clearly lopsided.

Here's my back-of-the-envelope analysis, based on estimates deliberately chosen to favor the United States. Specifically, I have taken the low estimates of Muslim fatalities, along with much more reliable figures for U.S. deaths.

To repeat: I have deliberately selected "low-end" estimates for Muslim fatalities, so these figures present the "best case" for the United States. Even so, the United States has killed nearly 30 Muslims for every American lost. The real ratio is probably much higher, and a reasonable upper bound for Muslim fatalities (based mostly on higher estimates of "excess deaths" in Iraq due to the sanctions regime and the post-2003 occupation) is well over one million, equivalent to over 100 Muslim fatalities for every American lost.

Figures like these should be used with caution, of course, and several obvious caveats apply. To begin with, the United States is not solely responsible for some of those fatalities, most notably in the case of the "excess deaths" attributable to the U.N. sanctions regime against Iraq. Saddam Hussein clearly deserves much of the blame for these "excess deaths," insofar as he could have complied with Security Council resolutions and gotten the sanctions lifted or used the "oil for food" problem properly. Nonetheless, the fact remains that the United States (and the other SC members) knew that keeping the sanctions in place would cause tens of thousands of innocent people to die and we went ahead anyway. 

Similarly, the United States is not solely to blame for the sectarian violence that engulfed Iraq after the 2003 invasion. U.S. forces killed many Iraqis, to be sure, but plenty of Shiites, Kurds, Sunnis, and foreign infiltrators were pulling triggers and planting bombs too. Yet it is still the case that the United States invaded a country that had not attacked us, dismantled its regime, and took hardly any precautions to prevent the (predictable) outbreak of violence. Having uncapped the volcano, we are hardly blameless, and that goes for pundits like Friedman who enthusiastically endorsed the original invasion.

Third, the fact that people died as a result of certain U.S. actions does not by itself mean that those policy decisions were wrong. I'm a realist, and I accept the unfortunate fact that international politics is a rough business and sometimes innocent people die as a result of actions that may in fact be justifiable. For example, I don't think it was wrong to expel Iraq from Kuwait in 1991 or to topple the Taliban in 2001. Nor do I think it was wrong to try to catch Bin Laden -- even though people died in the attempt -- and I would support similar efforts to capture him today even if it placed more people at risk. In other words, a full assessment of U.S. policy would have to weigh these regrettable costs against the alleged benefits to the United States itself or the international community as a whole. 

Yet if you really want to know "why they hate us," the numbers presented above cannot be ignored. Even if we view these figures with skepticism and discount the numbers a lot, the fact remains that the United States has killed a very large number of Arab or Muslim individuals over the past three decades. Even though we had just cause and the right intentions in some cases (as in the first Gulf War), our actions were indefensible (maybe even criminal) in others. 

It is also striking to observe that virtually all of the Muslim deaths were the direct or indirect consequence of official U.S. government policy. By contrast, most of the Americans killed by Muslims were the victims of non-state terrorist groups such as al Qaeda or the insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan. Americans should also bear in mind that the figures reported above omit the Arabs and Muslims killed by Israel in Lebanon, Gaza, and the West Bank. Given our generous and unconditional support for Israel's policy towards the Arab world in general and the Palestinians in particular, Muslims rightly hold us partly responsible for those victims too.

Contrary to what Friedman thinks, our real problem isn't a fictitious Muslim "narrative" about America's role in the region; it is mostly the actual things we have been doing in recent years. To say that in no way justifies anti-American terrorism or absolves other societies of responsibility for their own mistakes or misdeeds. But the self-righteousness on display in Friedman's op-ed isn't just simplistic; it is actively harmful. Why? Because whitewashing our own misconduct makes it harder for Americans to figure out why their country is so unpopular and makes us less likely to consider different (and more effective) approaches.

Some degree of anti-Americanism may reflect ideology, distorted history, or a foreign government's attempt to shift blame onto others (a practice that all governments indulge in), but a lot of it is the inevitable result of policies that the American people have supported in the past. When you kill tens of thousands of people in other countries -- and sometimes for no good reason -- you shouldn't be surprised when people in those countries are enraged by this behavior and interested in revenge. After all, how did we react after September 11? 



The Third-Rate Third Way

Just a few years ago, politicians like British Prime Minister Tony Blair and U.S. President Bill Clinton rejected left-right distinctions and proclaimed the emergence of a new “Third Way.” English sociologist Anthony Giddens, whose book The Third Way provided much of the intellectual ballast for the movement, called it a “fundamental paradigm shift in politics” and predicted that it would “dominate the next twenty or thirty years.” Leaders embracing the Third Way -- which combines a reliance on free markets with progressive social policies -- gained power in Germany, Belgium, Italy, and several other countries. Prominent politicians and public intellectuals debated Third Way principles at conferences in Florence, New York City, and Berlin, reinforcing the impression that an innovative global movement had been born.

Today, however, this once contagious movement looks less promising than its proponents anticipated. Blair’s popularity has eroded steadily over the past year, and several other Third Way leaders have experienced significant electoral setbacks. The recent wave of antigovernment protests in Europe and the continued weakness of the euro have put Third Way governments on the defensive. The U.S. economy remains strong, but Third Way rhetoric was noticeably absent from the 2000 presidential election. And at the most recent gathering of centrist politicians, held in Berlin in June 2000, the phrase “Third Way” was abandoned in favor of the bland “progressive governance,” raising new doubts about the movement’s claims to ideological novelty.

The initial popularity of Third Way politics was due in part to the natural tendency of political leaders to emulate success. By combining conservative views on free markets with liberal concerns about social justice (while ignoring the thorny issue of how one resolves trade-offs between them), both Clinton and Blair were able to seize the center without appearing overly opportunistic. The “Third Way” made “triangulation” sound like a principled innovation rather than a cynical political tactic. And with U.S. and British success, politicians in other industrial democracies were quick to leap on the bandwagon.

So why did the movement lose steam? One problem may be boredom: Though it is hard to find anything objectionable in the ideology, it’s equally hard to find anything exciting. There was genuine drama in the old struggle between left and right, but only the most dedicated wonks will find their pulses quickening while reading the banal proclamations from a typical Third Way proceeding. Second, attendance at annual Third Way conferences has not helped save politicians who fail to deliver at home, demonstrating that membership in the Third Way club cannot guarantee electoral success. Third, the allure of these policies may have owed less to the program itself than to the personal charisma of its proponents; men like Clinton, Blair, or German Chancellor Gerhard Schröder have few equals in the fine art of making vague nostrums sound fresh and appealing. Finally, Third Way thinkers had little to offer nondemocratic and less developed countries, except for the familiar (and often unwelcome) advice to become more like the West. As a result, the program has had little impact outside the Western world. Political fads fade when they are mostly style and no substance, and the Third Way is beginning to look less like the wave of the future and more like a catchy slogan with a short shelf life.