The Right to Interfere

It is not too extreme to suggest that Britain’s foreign policy, and the military arrangements which flow from it, are in a state of some disarray. This is largely because there seems to be some confusion about the fundamental aims of foreign policy, and what it is meant to achieve. This is a matter which demands serious and consistent intellectual analysis. Crisis management, however adroit, is not enough.

Much of the confusion surrounding policy-making springs from the apparent belief in something called an ‘ethical foreign policy’, as though this were some revelatory phenomenon hitherto absent from the proper conduct of international relations. The truth is that the making of foreign policy, like any other government activity, has always demanded a strong moral or ‘ethical’ dimension, as President Theodore Roosevelt insisted in his famous message to the United States Congress in 1904. Since Plato and the Sophists it has been axiomatic that morality or justice (both of which are subsumed in the Greek work dikaiosune) are essential to the existence of civilised political society. This is not to say, however, that they should entirely supersede consideration of other interests. As Pascal declared, many centuries later, “Il faut mettre ensemble la justice et la force, et pour cela faire que ce qui et juste soit fort ou que ce qui est fort soit juste.”

There is still a respectable case to be made for the view that foreign policy should be conducted primarily in the national interest. It is a proposition which derives from the concept of the nation state as the basic element of the global structure. It seems otiose to point out that the phrase ‘international relations’ implies relations among nation states. The borders of these states have hitherto been regarded as sacrosanct, and the political arrangements within those borders have been a matter for national governments alone to decide. Indeed, this principle is enshrined in the United Nations Charter, which declares that the organisation is based on the principle of the sovereign equality of all its members.

Article 2(4) of the Charter requires all members to “refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state,” while Article 2(7) emphasises that “Nothing contained in the present Charter shall authorise the United Nations to intervene in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state.” Although it goes on to provide that “this principle shall not prejudice the application of enforcement measures under Chapter VII,” this chapter provides only for action with respect to “threats to the Peace, Breaches of the Peace, and Acts of Aggression.”

Whatever may be the theory, it is self-evident that in practice this principle of noninterference no longer has much meaning. Its eclipse has been hastened by the significant advance in the development of open, transnational standards both for computing and telecommunications; these new technologies have provided the capacity to cope with the exponential increase in the dissemination of information. New, relatively cheap software allows even small personal computers to connect to the rapidly expanding universal network. Anyone with access to a microcomputer and the appropriate software can move into the global network and, as the scientific director of Sun Microsystems has said, “What they will find there is limited only by the power of the human imagination.”

The relevance of this phenomenon to foreign policy is that the dissemination of information will continue to escalate dramatically, facilitating, among other things, the spread of investigative television journalism throughout the international scene and helping to foster a ‘something-must-be done’ culture, especially in the West. The emergence of a category of ‘international crimes’ such as torture, genocide and ethnic cleansing has led to a conviction that internal political arrangements which cause large scale oppression can no longer be regarded as the private business of the state concerned. The non-interference principle has been replaced by a ‘right of interference’ on humanitarian grounds.

Some of the consequences of this are already evident. NATO has openly invaded the sovereign territory of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia and the borders of Somalia, Iraq and Indonesia have been violated in the light of various perceptions of human rights. Whether or not these interventions can be justified under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter, most of them are without precedent in the conduct of international affairs. It is surely at least arguable that to consign the principle of non-interference too readily to the rubbish bin of history is to risk undermining the very foundations of international order. As Boutros Boutros Ghali, the former Secretary General of the United Nations, has said on the growth of globalisation: “Between the isolated individual and the world there must be an intermediate element. This element is the State and national sovereignty. They respond to the needs of all human beings for identification.”

It is, however, the present Secretary General who has encapsulated the radically different and more politically correct current thinking on this issue and given rise to the slogan of ‘an ethical foreign policy’. Kofi Annan has declared that “the collective interest is the national interest” and that the core challenge to the United Nations in the next century is “to forge unity behind the principle that massive and systematic violations of human rights – wherever they may take place – should not be allowed to stand.” What Mr Annan says may well reflect the general direction in which the conduct of international relations is moving. It is, however, not self-evident that it is the right direction, and whatever the United Nations may say, national governments are still obliged to make a conscious decision as to whether the new ‘right to interfere’ is a principle upon which they wish to base their foreign policies.

Experience so far suggests that it has a number of serious weaknesses. The most important of these is that these ‘humanitarian’ interventions are not always notably successful. The adventure in Kosovo, apart from being a classic display of political incompetence and – disregard of proportionality in the deployment of armed force, has left the region in a worse situation than it was before the intervention took place. Secondly, there is inevitably something selective and inconsistent about this kind of military operation. Even those who pontificate most vociferously about the Russian abuse of human rights in Chechnya know that, even though they might bomb Belgrade into rubble with virtual impunity, they would be extremely foolish to attempt anything of that sort in Moscow. Furthermore, it is perhaps worth remarking that humanitarian considerations often seem to coincide with the strategic and economic interests of those exercising the ‘right to interfere’.

There is, however, another vitally important matter to be considered in the context of this expeditionary force concept of military policy. If the implementation of the ‘right to interfere’ implies the frequent deployment of armed forces overseas, these forces might, in certain contingencies, be the targets of nuclear, chemical or biological weapons. So might their bases, either in the theatre of operations, or even in this country. It is not altogether evident that the implications of this threat have been seriously examined. Our nuclear deterrent is now entirely dependent upon four Trident submarines. While this may be credible in the context of any threat from Russia (at least in its present strategic disposition), it takes no account of the possible emergence of China as a military superpower with expansionist aspirations. What is more important, a simple retaliatory capability takes no account of one of the most pressing dangers looming on the strategic horizon, namely the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction and the means of delivering them. This development is not confined to the obvious examples of India and Pakistan, both of whom have conducted successful nuclear tests and missile flights.

In 1995 a report by the US Central Intelligence Agency estimated that at least 20 countries already had at that time “or may be developing, weapons of mass destruction and ballistic missile delivery systems.” That figure is now nearer to 40 and likely to increase to 50 within the next 10-15 years. Of these, the CIA said four countries – North Korea, Iran, Iraq and Libya – already possessed or were developing ballistic missiles that could threaten US interests. The phrase ‘US interests’ was deliberately chosen and is significant. Even if an aggressor were not capable of reaching the US with ballistic missiles, he could still dramatically influence American strategy and policy if he could threaten London, Paris or even Riyadh. Today, then, we are in a new and to some extent uncharted strategic environment.

In an article in the American magazine Commentary in 1998, Robert Kagan and Gary Schmitt advanced the sombre proposition that “the number of states trying to acquire weapons of mass destruction and the means to deliver them will grow, and the threat posed by such weapons will become an increasingly standard feature of international life.”

One of the obvious inferences from this scenario is that the attempts to achieve an effective non-proliferation regime have failed. At the time of its entry into force more than 30 years ago, it was possible to be optimistic about the possible effects of a non-proliferation regime, although even then the possibility of containing the spread of nuclear weapons was the subject of much controversy. At the arms control negotiations in what was then the Eighteen Nation Disarmament Committee, the Indian delegate once protested that advocacy of the non-proliferation treaty by the nuclear powers was “like a collection of alcoholics imposing total abstinence on everyone else.”

One of the consequences of the emergence of a world of many nuclear weapons states is that the strategic justification for the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty will have finally disappeared. This treaty, concluded in the era of the bipolar confrontation with the Soviet Union, legitimised and enshrined the doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD). There were many people who thought, even when the Soviet Union was the only potential enemy with the capacity to deliver weapons of mass destruction by ballistic missiles, that MAD was an implausible – even incredible – doctrine. Yet it worked in a way, because the adversaries in those days were, in the strategic sense, conservative powers with an aversion to the risk of nuclear catastrophe. In a multipolar world of nuclear powers, some of them often described as ‘rogue states’, this cosy assumption is no longer valid. Deterrence, in the form of the threat of nuclear retaliation, is no longer a credible strategic doctrine for every scenario.

Robert Kagan and Gary Schmitt have put the crucial question in this somewhat highly coloured form: “Suppose a ballistic missile were fired at Saudi Arabia by a dictator like Saddam Hussein… Is it credible that we would be willing to turn Baghdad into the next Hiroshima to punish his aggression?” There is surely only one answer to that question. If, then, deterrence alone is no longer to be relied upon as a means of preventing nuclear attack on the West or its interests, what else is there? If it is assumed that an effective non-proliferation regime has already proved unachievable, then effective defence against missile attack emerges as not only a plausible, but possibly the only, option.

This is, of course, not exactly a startling new perception. As long ago as 1993, the US Defence Secretary (then Les Aspin) announced that theatre ballistic missile defence was to be the first American priority in the post-Cold War environment. The Strategic Defence Initiative Organisation (SDIO) was formally renamed the BMDO – the Ballistic Missile Defence Organisation – and the concentration of effort was to be on GPALS – Global Protection Against Limited Strikes.

This was to involve a number of elements, including stand-alone defences which could either be permanently stationed in a theatre of operations or rapidly deployed to crisis areas; ground-based defences against strategic missiles; and space-based systems consisting mainly of kinetic energy weapons, known in SDI days as Smart Rocks, but later elevated to the rank of Brilliant Pebbles. The American plan to deploy GPALS systems in the US between 1998 and the early years of the next century, was linked with an agreement with Russia to co-operate on the development of ballistic missile defences. The significance of this for the deterrent forces of Britain and France scarcely needed spelling out.

The Gulf War had the effect of reviving interest in ballistic missile defence, and a number of European voices were heard advocating the development of European ballistic missile defences. British and French defence experts have echoed the statement made as long ago as the summer of 1990 by Hans-Heinrich Weise, a member of the planning staff in the German defence ministry: “A strengthened deployment of missile defence capabilities against the potential threat of Third Countries is in the interest of global stability, and is preventive protection against new threats to all the states of Europe.”

In a study published as long ago as 1992 by the Institute for European Defence and Strategic Studies, Keith Payne set out the case for missile defence as a vital component of European security, arguing that deterrence by the threat of retaliation was no longer effective on its own – as the Gulf War seemed to underline – and that the achievement by Europe of an effective, even if imperfect, interception capability against limited offensive threats would be of immense value to the countries of NATO.

‘Brilliant Pebbles’, in its original conception, is no longer on the American agenda, and there appears to be a continuing affection in Europe for the traditional doctrines of deterrence. The US, however, is embarked upon a serious programme aimed at creating a National Missile Defence System, and intends to determine this year whether this is feasible. This would involve substantial amendment to the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty (ABM) now the subject of negotiation with Russia which, as the Soviet Union, was the other signatory of the agreement. If agreement on this cannot be reached, the United States will almost certainly abrogate the treaty unilaterally.

So far as the United Kingdom is concerned, the Strategic Defence Review of 1998 reflected no really profound analysis of this aspect of the strategic environment. On page -11 of the Review, under the heading of Security Priorities for the Future (Outside Europe), there appears the single reference to “the presence and potential spread of ballistic missiles, chemical and biological weapons and even nuclear weapons” and tucked away in one of the supporting essays published as an appendix to the Review, is the statement of British government policy on Ballistic Missile Defence: “A number of systems intended to destroy ballistic missiles are under development, notably in the United States. These may play a role within a balanced spectrum of capabilities to counter the risks posed by chemical and biological weapons and their means of delivery. But technologies in this area are changing rapidly and it would, at this stage, be premature to decide on acquiring such a capability. We will, however, monitor developments in the risks posed by ballistic missiles and in the technology available to counter them, participate in NATO studies, and work closely with our Allies to inform future decisions.”

At first glance, that seems to be a prudent and ‘conservative’ position; but it carries with it the clear implication that Britain may not acquire its own independent missile defence system. A definitive contribution to official thinking about this problem is contained in Professor Neville Brown’s magisterial report entitled The Fundamental Issues Study within the British BMD Review, published in February 1998.

In this context, it is perhaps permissible to advocate the pursuit in the United Kingdom of a clearer national policy on this issue. The Strategic Defence Review was in some ways a courageous and constructive prescription for the restructuring of Britain’s Armed Forces to meet the threats and dangers of the post-Cold War world. As George Robertson, the Defence Secretary of the day, said in his introduction to the SDR: “In the post-Cold War world, we must be prepared to go to the crisis, rather than have the crisis come to us.”

This clearly reflects the Expeditionary Force concept and it implies what George Robertson called “a massive agenda for change.” This will not, however, be successful nor will it deliver the ambitious and imaginative aspirations of the Strategic Defence Review unless these expeditionary forces are protected, while they are engaged in operations overseas, against the threat of attack on them or their bases by ballistic missiles, possibly carrying nuclear, chemical or biological weapons, now in the possession of so many potential enemies.

It is by no means evident that any serious thought has been applied to the consequences of a foreign policy which places these new demands upon a rapidly shrinking military capability. British Armed Forces are at present deployed not only in Ireland and in Europe, but in the Middle East, the Balkans and the Far East as well, with the result that the problem known as ‘overstretch’ is reaching critical proportions. At the same time there is much flirtation with the idea of a European Defence and Security Identity which, apart from alienating much of the defence community in the United States, would require a further expansion of military resources.

All this is against a background of a programme of persistent reduction in our Armed Forces. According to a recent House of Commons research paper, the Defence Budget has fallen from 5.3% of the GDP in 1984/85 to 2.7% in 1998/99. Since 1990, there has been a 32% reduction in the size of our regular Armed Forces. The consequence of this is that, as a proportion of GDP, we now spend less on our military establishment than, for example, Turkey and Greece; and, perhaps more significantly, our Armed Forces are substantially smaller than those of France, Germany and Italy. This cashing of the peace dividend may represent to some a welcome redistribution of national resources in the post-Cold War environment, but it carries with it some inevitable consequences.

To relegate the provision of military resources to a lowly position in the hierarchy of priorities is not only to forfeit the ability to behave like a superpower; it also means that the prime responsibility of Government – the defence of the realm – is being put at risk. Denis Healey once suggested, in a typically dramatic image, that “Once we cut expenditure to the extent where our security is imperilled, we have no houses, we have no hospitals, we have no schools, we have a heap of cinders.” (House of Commons, March 1969). The dilemma is not as sharply defined as it was during the Cold War, but it still retains a certain validity. If the fashionable doctrine of international relations enunciated by the present Secretary General of the United Nations is to form the basis of our future foreign and defence policies; if the right to interfere is to involve our Armed Forces in expeditionary operations around the world; and if that world is inhabited by a proliferation of states possessing weapons of mass destruction and the means to deliver them over long distances, then the priority accorded to defence expenditure may have to be drastically revised.