Hi Joel, New threat or opportunity for Zimbabwe?
One the one hand, more platinum from ZIM will be required, and more global fiat paper will be available to pay for it, which is good for ZIM revenue, and OTOH, concurrently with the local Mugabe fiat printing program, causing further devaluation of local fiat, ZIM's cost will be reduced, increasing output per poorer labour, and raising efficiency to never-before-seen levels. Can you spell BULLISH?
OTThirdH, as is often the case with countries like Zimbabwe, third hand, I meant, the global uncertainty may not be good for car catalyst demand, especially if some countries fail to multilaterally sign on to the Kyoto agenda.
stratfor.biz
The American Empire
Al Qaeda’s goal always has been to unify the Islamic world under an Islamic government—to create, in effect, an Islamic empire that is ready to both protect the interests of the Islamic world and to expand Islamic influence. It is doubtful that al Qaeda will achieve this goal. Indeed, it is STRATFOR’s view that al Qaeda’s actions will, contrary to its intentions or expectations, generate the exact opposite effect -- the creation of an American empire.
In a sense, the American empire already was created by the nearly simultaneous fall of the Soviet Union and the Japanese economy. With the fall of the Soviet Union, the United States became the only power capable of projecting military force globally. With the crash of Japan’s economy and the extraordinary expansion of the American economy in the 1990s, the United States also became the dominant global economic power, the primary source of capital and innovation. These two forces combined to give the United States overwhelming political power and with that came the ability to shape the international order as it wished.
American power did not match the American appetite for power. The United States did not perceive itself as having major global interests and its economy was less dependent on either imports or exports than were those of other major powers. Nevertheless, the United States had an interest in maintaining the stability of the international economic order. In general, this meant maintaining and expanding market capitalism in other countries and developing an international free trade regime with the inevitable protectionist aspects that domestic American politics had come to require.
On another level, the United States, no longer riveted by any serious threats to its national security, had the luxury to focus on the moral character of regimes. It intervened in Somalia to end appalling hunger; in Haiti to put a stop to a brutal and repressive regime; in Bosnia and Kosovo to limit Serbian excesses. All of these were elective operations. The United States did not undertake these missions because it had any overriding interests at stake, but because it had a massive surplus in politico-military power and could afford to indulge. When Somalia proved more complex and painful than the United States was prepared to endure, it withdrew. When the Haitian operation failed to provide the promised blessings, the government changed its focus.
The central reality of the 1990s was this: while the United States had the ability to impose a global order, it clearly did not need one and the cost of imposing one outstripped any benefit that the United States might derive from it. Although the United States was clearly the world’s leader in every sense, and even thought of itself as the leader, it did not wish to take on the disciplines of leadership or assume the cost of forming a global order. Leadership includes developing coherent principles for governing the international system, deploying the power to impose that system and the willingness to create appropriate institutions with which to govern.
The lack of American appetite for power in the 1990s resulted in a subsequent lack of any predictable, coherent behavior in the international system. Instead, Washington's principles were vague, its political and military power was diffuse and the institutions it chose to operate through (namely the United Nations and NATO) were both relics of the Cold War and were fundamentally unsuited to the tasks at hand.
Nothing is more dangerous than power without appetite or fear. Appetite and fear focus power, make it predictable and make it possible for other nations to craft policies that accommodate, avoid or resist that power. Where there is neither appetite nor fear, power is unfocused and therefore inherently unpredictable. That unpredictability was the mark of U.S. policy between the fall of the Berlin Wall and Sept. 11.
For most of the rest of the world, the 1990s was like living with a huge gorilla whose intentions were generally good if somewhat addled. It was impossible to predict what the gorilla might become interested in next, what it might do and the consequences of its actions. For other nations, the United States potentially could be the solution to their problems, but, if unfocused, also could be dangerous.
Other countries therefore had two predominant goals. One was to try to take advantage of a relationship with the United States. The other was to try to form coalitions large enough to focus the United States or at least render it predictable to some degree. The latter was difficult. Working with the United States was more profitable than resisting it. Thus every time a coalition started to form, the U.S. government would shift its policy slightly, perhaps seducing one of the potential coalition members, and the effort would collapse.
The rest of the world did not find this situation amusing. U.S. power and indifference posed a threat to their national interest. The problem did not derive from any defect in the American character, but from geography and power. The United States was physically secure from the rest of the world and so powerful and prosperous that it needed little from that world. American self-sufficiency and the power to secure what little it needed collided with the very different experience of the rest of the world.
Nowhere was this clearer than in Somalia. The United States, under former President George Bush, intervened for humanitarian reasons, stayed to try to build a nation, then pulled out when the nationals resisted. From the American point of view, this was a humanitarian mission that just didn’t work out.
From the standpoint of the Islamic world -- and particularly that of al Qaeda’s founders -- this was an example of the random and unpredictable nature of U.S. foreign policy, coupled with a lack of moral fiber. Washington’s actions may have been well intended, but were perceived as an unwarranted, imperial intervention. Worse, the intervention was perceived as an imperial move by a nation with no appetite for empire.
Somalia led directly to Sept. 11. Al Qaeda was part of the international community that found U.S. behavior erratic, unpredictable and ultimately weak. Al Qaeda’s goal -- building an Islamic empire -- required that it challenge the United States and demonstrate that the United States was both inherently weak due to moral corruption and that it would be incapable of destroying al Qaeda. For al Qaeda, challenging the United States would change the psychology of the Islamic world, thereby undermining the perceived power of the United States.
Sept. 11 redefined the world for the United States. It turned the world from a vaguely irrelevant, generally harmless place in which there were economic opportunities and the chance to do good deeds into one that was deadly. It also created a focus for U.S. power that changed the dynamic of the entire international system. Prior to Sept. 11, the United States had only a vague interest in the international system; after the attacks this international system -- and the destruction of al Qaeda, to be precise -- became an obsession.
The problem for the United States, however, is that destroying al Qaeda is not a straightforward action. The group has dispersed itself globally, which forces the United States to follow suit. Prior to Sept. 11, the United States completely dominated the world’s oceans and space. This allowed it to go anywhere and see everything, but its ground forces were deployed fairly randomly. For example, thousands of troops were still deployed in Germany, more from habit than from need. The U.S. presence in Eurasia was essentially without a mission and not particularly deep.
Over the past 10 months, the United States has not only dispersed its forces throughout Eurasia and the surrounding islands, but also has moved deeply into the governments, intelligence agencies and security apparatus of many of these countries. U.S. forces have been deployed, in small numbers, to areas ranging from Europe and Georgia to the "stans" and the Philippines. More important, in many of these countries small numbers of U.S. forces are "advising" (i.e. commanding) native forces while U.S. advisers monitor and influence decisions from the these countries’ ministries.
Sept. 11 created an unintended momentum in U.S. foreign policy that has led directly to empire-building. Empires are not created by salivating monsters seeking power. Such empires usually fail. The Romans did not intend to build an empire, but each step they took logically led to the next and in due course they had an empire. In turn, being an empire profoundly changed their institutions and their self-definition. Aside from a deep belief in their own virtue, becoming an empire was not an intention but an outcome.
The United States does not intend to become an empire. Its birth was the first great anti-imperial exercise. It certainly has little economic need for empire because, like the British, it can trade for what it needs. But the logic of empire does not consist of avarice nearly as much as fear. The Romans’ first impulse to empire was defensive. So, too, the American impulse is entirely defensive. The United States is not trying to build an empire: It simply wants to stop al Qaeda. However, to do so is to follow the classic imperial process.
Driven by the need to defeat al Qaeda, American forces are deploying to scores of countries around the world -- sometimes overtly, sometimes secretly; sometimes in uniform and sometimes as secret agents. In all of these countries, the United States is engaged in reshaping domestic policies. Al Qaeda cannot be rooted out unless the social fabric of these countries can be managed.
Few will dare resist. The United States is enormously powerful and has been transformed from a vaguely disinterested gorilla into a brutally focused and deadly viper, ready to strike anywhere. Given U.S. power and the American mood, few nations are prepared to risk U.S. displeasure by refusing to cooperate in the fight against al Qaeda. Indeed, many see it as a chance to profit from collaboration with Washington.
In practice this means that, in the course of defeating al Qaeda the United States is becoming an integral part of the domestic policy process and implementation in virtually all countries around the globe. Those that resist are potential targets for American attack. This was an inevitable -- but unintended – consequence of the attacks of Sept. 11.
The intention is to defeat al Qaeda; the means to do so is a global war against them. This requires the United States to be present in a majority of countries, overseeing processes that are part of a sovereign nation’s purview, therefore, in effect, usurping its sovereignty. Since the war itself requires reconstructing social orders, the American presence will have to intrude deeply into these societies. Since the war against al Qaeda could take a generation, the United States will be there for a long time.
Most American policymakers would deny that this is their intention. All would be sincere, but the unintended consequence is the nature of politics. In this case, the unintended consequence is empire. U.S. power, having met an obsessive need, is moving throughout the world. Where it meets resistance, it has no choice but to plan war. The United States can neither decline combat with al Qaeda nor avoid the consequences of such combat.
The United States has been a democratic republic, an anti-imperial power. Now it is an imperial power, not in the simplistic Leninist sense of seeking markets, but in the classical sense of being unable to secure its safety without controlling others. The paradox is that al Qaeda -- ultimately a very minor power -- is driving the world's greatest nation toward this end.
The problem, of course, is that all of this is visible tactically to Americans. They see the deployments into each country. They see the acceptance of advisers into ministries. They have come to expect cooperation by police in Yemen, bases in Kyrgyzstan, information from Egypt and accommodation from Germans or Russians. They expect it, but have not yet constructed a coherent picture or named what they are getting into: empire. Empires begin not with rabid manifestoes, but with short-term solutions leading only one way.
The dispersal we see today will last at least as long as the Cold War dispersals, and will be even harder to abandon. There will be resistance to an American empire, from great powers as well as small. There will be burdens to be borne in holding this empire that cannot be abandoned. The American dilemma is that it is better at winning an empire than explaining it or even admitting what has happened.
The United States is taking control of countries throughout the world, bringing benefits and making threats. But the United States has no theory of empire. How can a democratic republic and an empire coincide? Once, this was an interesting theoretical question. Now it is the burning -- but undiscussed -- question in American politics.
The issue is not whether this should happen. It is happening. The real issue, apart from how all this plays out, is what effect it will have on the United States as a whole. A global empire whose center is unsure of its identity, its purposes and its moral justification is an empire with a center that might not hold. As the obvious becomes apparent, this will become the focus of a pressing debate in the United States. |
