Isolation or engagement?

Tristan Mills’ provocative article on whether Milton Friedman should be castigated for engaging with Augusto Pinochet, and the Reason Magazine article that (I presume) inspired it, have raised the broader question of the extent to which we engage with, or isolate, unpleasant, illiberal and undemocratic rulers.

For brief context, Milton Friedman once met the Chilean autocrat for an hour, and following that meeting wrote him a two-page letter in which he proposed means by which the Chilean government (then under the control of the military dictator) could improve Chile’s economy. Furthermore, the Chilean economics ministry was heavily influenced by “the Chicago boys”, a handful of young Chilean economists who had participated in an exchange programme that had enabled them to study at Chicago University under Friedman and his colleagues. The consequence was that Chile adopted relatively liberal economic policies while at the same time suffering political tyranny.

The controversy surrounding this has several strands, not least the fact that both economic liberalism and nationalist/military dictatorship are frequently described as “Right Wing”, and here they appeared to march hand in hand. Ignoring for the moment the fact that the confusion is derived from the limited analysis resulting from trying to impose a bipolar model on a multifaceted world (I hare argued that a tripolar model provides a better explanation, but ultimately any model is bound to be limited in comparison to the complexity of the real world), there is undoubtedly uncontrolled glee that those on the “Left” who oppose both fascism and economic freedom should find some apparent link between the two – the smoking gun of “conservative” politics. And to be fair, with the abundance of opportunities for liberals to point to countries where socialism and tyranny have coexisted, one can understand their relief at having at least one counter-example.

Friedman of course denied any such link, as both Tristan’s and Brian Doherty’s articles make clear. For most, however, the main criticism of Friedman is not that his policies brought great harm to the people of Chile – an argument that only a few die-hard anti-capitalists make, and which requires a refusal to compare long-term growth rates and poverty reduction among South American nations. Rather, the criticism is that Friedman was willing to talk to Pinochet at all, that he advised him, and that he did not take the opportunity to criticise the regime. Doherty sympathises with this:

“He did not choose this as an opportunity to upbraid Pinochet for any of his
repressive policies, and many of Friedman’s admirers, including me, would have
felt better if he had… Friedman’s decision to interact with officials of
repressive governments creates uncomfortable tensions for his libertarian
admirers; I could, and often do, wish he hadn’t done it.”

This raises the question, previously raised by Richard Nixon and relevant today in the context of Iran and North Korea: To what extent should we engage with unpleasant regimes? Should we trade with the Soviet Union? Or isolate the Taliban? (You will note that I am assuming a degree of consistency that does not apply in practice, as the juxtaposition of these two examples make clear).

On the one hand, the argument is that we should make a stand and show our disgust for these regimes. They are evil and we should have nothing to do with them; indeed, we are complicit in their crimes if we work with or associate with them. A secondary argument is that the wealth created strengthens the regime. We have seen this in the past with calls to boycott South African and Israeli oranges, and more recently with calls for British businesses to disinvest from the Sudan and Myanmar.

The counter argument is that it is engagement that weakens these regimes by showing the citizens that there is a better alternative. If the Soviet Union was such a worker’s paradise, why did the workers have to eat American butter? And once the workers were trading the Red Army uniforms they were given during conscription (which the United States had long ago stopped imposing on its citizens – thanks in part to a campaign by Milton Friedman) for Levi jeans and other western products which to us are common but to them remained luxuries, could the end be far away? By comparison, sanctions generally hit the poorest first – it was in Soweto rather than in Cape Town that the pain of the South African boycott was felt hardest – and also empower the dictators – it was not the West that starved a million Iraqis with an inadequate Oil for Food programme, but the fact that the $46bn worth of imports were distributed by Saddam’s henchmen based on political criteria rather than need.

Friedman’s argument was in the same vein. Whether he approved of Pinochet’s regime or not (and his writings represent one of the strongest and most eloquent explanations of the benefits of freedom written in the 20th century), he knew that he would not prevent a single disappearance by castigating the tyrant, either to his face or in writing. But by proposing an alternative economic model that empowered citizens and created prosperity, he would not only alleviate the suffering that resulted from poverty, but also create the conditions where political freedom would flourish. For both Friedman and Hayek (his contemporary and another liberal economist and philosopher, though they theories of the two differed) demonstrated that tyranny is an inevitable consequence of central planning, while political oppression is far harder (perhaps impossible) to sustain if the economic levers of control are not in the hands of the state.
Another study (the citation for which I can never find) has noted that there is a correlation between wealth and political activism; that as citizens become richer the likelihood of protest in the face of political oppression increases. If so, enriching the people is itself a weapon in the armoury of freedom. And as for the claim that the wealth strengthens the regime, it is worth noting that Pinochet may have done better by his people economically than his interventionist neighbours, but he still lost the 1988 plebiscite in which he sought to renew his term in office. The liberal economic policies in Chile did not earn him praise; they merely unleashed a taste for freedom.

There are no hard-and-fast rules, of course, and sometimes it may be necessary to isolate a dictator or make a stand. But by-and-large is seems that engagement is more effective than sanctions. And if there is one thing of which we should be sure, it is that ideas should always be shared. This holds powerful lessons for today’s governments: sanctions in Cuba, Iran and North Korea have undoubtedly lengthened and deepened poverty, while failing to undermine and perhaps buttressing their terrible regimes. The same may very well be true of the Sudan and Myanmar, and should cause us to question calls for a boycott of the 2008 Olympics in China.

Friedman was right to offer his wisdom to all who would listen (and he advised Communists in China and Yugoslavia as well as fascists in Chile and Brazil). He was not showing his support for the regime; just trying to help its people in the only way he could. In other theatres, in other ways, we should try to do the same.

Zimbabwe in danger of becoming next DR Congo

The spiralling crisis in Zimbabwe is about to take an ominous turn. Until now the situation has been a tragic but domestic issues, but it appears on the verge of becoming an international crisis.
It seems a long time since President Mugabe began to use the coercive power of the state to confiscate land from white farmers and distribute it to the majority black population. The situation has long-since morphed from being an ethnic and class struggle among Zimbabweans to an unequal and often brutal conflict pitting a black-African government against a largely black-African opposition. Over the past few years this crisis has become increasingly tragic and violent.

But until now it has mercifully remained within the borders of Zimbabwe (if one ignores the millions of refugees that have now fled to neighbouring countries). The Mugabe regime has been ostracised internationally: Zimbabwe has been suspended from the Commonwealth, it is under an arms embargo, its assets in Europe have been frozen and its leaders are banned from travel to most of the civilised world (i.e. those bits that respect democracy and the rule of law). But this does not represent an internationalisation of the conflict. This is simply the refusal of civilised countries to have anything to do with kleptocrats and tyrants. Similarly, the criticism of the government by foreign countries is not intervention but interaction and – one would hope – influence. That influence would be more effective if it came from South Africa, but Thabo Mbeki has been pusillanimous in his criticism.

Fortunately, despite the one-sided nature of the conflict, spiralling inflation (the world’s highest rate, at 1,700 per cent), collapsing trade (those white farmers didn’t half sell a lot of tobacco!) and stupidly thuggish land-clearances have undermined the regime to such a degree that it is now struggling to pay its police force. Large numbers of police have resigned due to poor and unreliable wages; commentators are predicting that the situation is reaching its endgame.

Mugabe has one more ace up his sleeve, however. According to The Times he plans to draft in around 2,500 Angolan paramilitary police. Nicknamed “Ninjas” because of their black uniforms (from boots to balaclavas), they terrify the Angolan people. Now they are being lent to Mugabe to help crush dissent. “I doubt if any of them speak English” a police source told the Times. “They can only be here for riot control and to back up our own riot police.”

This is blatantly illegal and represents a dangerous escalation of the crisis. The principle of national sovereignty does not only exist to protect governments from external meddling; it exists as well to protect people from unpopular governments. The people of Zimbabwe know that with patience and resilience they will eventually prevail against Mugabe. But no people can guarantee to prevail against their government if that government relies on foreign troops to crush dissent. Indeed, it is a fine line between foreign support and foreign occupation, as the history of the Soviet Union makes clear.

Fortunately, the world is not powerless to affect this decision. Action is needed promptly, however. Firstly, it must be made plain to President José Eduardo dos Santos of Angola that intervening in the internal affairs of another country is unacceptable. He is welcome to give vocal support and continue to deal with the regime if he wishes – if he has no self-respect – but sending his shock-troops to help crack down on the opposition must not be tolerated. If he proves resistant to persuasion and obdurately sends in his thugs, he will be complicit in the violence and oppression that is taking place there, and must be punished alongside Mugabe and his henchmen. In the first instance, this should see an extension of the travel ban and arms embargo extended to Angola. If the intervention continues, Angolan assets in Europe and America should be frozen. Finally, if the situation escalates and Angolan troops commit murder or human rights abuses, charges should be filed before the International Criminal Court.

It is possible, however, that the situation may worsen. Violence begets violence, and there is a danger that foreign intervention may tip Zimbabwe over the edge into civil war. One need only look at the Democratic Republic of the Congo to see what that would mean. (Ironically, Angola and Zimbabwe intervened in the Congo, supporting the unpleasant regime of Laurent Kabila.)

However, there is danger here for Angola as well as Zimbabwe. One of the few clear cases where intervention in a foreign country is deemed legitimate is where it is an act of counter-intervention to drive out a foreign power that is upsetting the natural balance of political forces within a country. All things being equal, civil wars play themselves out: nobody had a right to intervene in the English or American civil wars. But when a party steps in to help one side – as Serbia did in Bosnia, for example, or Liberia in Sierra Leone – it is acceptable and perhaps even desirable to redress the balance and punish the meddling nation.

Angolan intervention in Zimbabwe would therefore open the door to an African or even Western military response that has until now had no justification. Jaded readers may point out that Iraq and Afghanistan raise doubts about the efficacy of Western military action. However, a Zimbabwean campaign would be more like Sierra Leone or East Timor. Mugabe’s backers would collapse and flee very quickly; what little support he has is bought with money that is rapidly losing its value. There is a strong and popular opposition that would unite the country – though it would have to contest open and fair elections with Zanu-PF and other parties so that there was no suggestion that a puppet government was being installed. And once the currency was stabilised and trade restored, Zimbabwe’s battered but naturally strong economy (it was once the bread basket of Africa) would begin to boom.

Military intervention should be a last resort, and considered only if another country sent troops to support Mugabe’s regime. Sadly, the alleged deployment of Angolan paramilitaries is the first stage of just such an intervention. The world must act now to forestall such a deployment if a humanitarian catastrophe – and perhaps warfare – are to be avoided.