Redesigning Intervention : Why the west should not be afraid of intervention

  

These days, the word 'intervention' occupies one of the darkest realms of our conciousness, particularly in relation to the Middle East. Indeed, it's tainted legacy in both Iraq and Afghanistan has reduced intervention either as an action destined to fail, or worse, an ugly form of pseudo-imperialism, designed ultimately to reassert brutal hegemonic structures of power. In our age, a much darker future can also be seen as one repetitive of the late 1980s, whereby intervention through the means of directly arming rebel groups, may in turn give rise to hard line, militant Islamists. As we have been warned- by both Arab and Western media outlets, walking down the road of military intervention, in whatever capacity, is too dangerous to bear the risks.

Despite such fears, I feel that the way in which we conceptualise 'intervention' is heavily misconstrued, in such a way that we immediately associate the notion with the darkest parts of recent history. Yet, on the current stage of international diplomacy, the Western world finds itself in a precarious poisition, whereby they must reconcile the rights of sovereignty whilst maintaining an ethos for universal human rights and liberties. In the case of Syria, this does not simply relate to the toppling of the Assad regime, or the removal of the ruling family. Indeed, while arming the rebels, or a direct NATO intervention may be successful in removing Assad, what will soon be found is that the lack of any coherent oppositional force to allow a transfer of governance will provide the capacity for rampant civil war. And while I certainly agree that direct military intervention, particularly on a ground level, is likely to provide further impetus for perpetuating such tensions, the philosophical basis on which the western world conducts its diplomacy should not be forsaken out of ease or fear.

The West, and in particular the United States, should therefore be proactive in forging the conditions to which Syrian society can not only resolve the violence, but also witness the political change so many have died for. In this case, the West should be more strategic in it's non-military attacks; As Michael Ignatieff wrote in the Financial Times earlier this year, a comprehensive 'quarantine' of Syria by the international community, that would reduce Assad to a perennial outsider on the global stage. Furthermore, sanctions on commerce that hit the Syrian elite, oddly aloof to the conflict, would also be substantial in weakening the foundations of Assad's regime. Finally, however, is that if intervention does take place, it must do so in a way that is devoid of political posturing; in this case, the West should not be afraid to work with the likes of Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Turkey as well as the recently established key player, Mr. Mursi of Egypt. By a proactive engagement in multilateral diplomacy within the region, the West can not only help to remove the neo-imperialist stigma of the past, but they may also find success in moulding a new model of humanitarian intervention removed of romantic politics.

Ultimately, our age now requires a different understanding of what 'interventionism' actually is. Indeed, while still maintaining the amiable goals of securing individual rights and security, the West should also consider reconstructing the means to secure these aims through more targeting, non-military approaches, as well as working with key players within the region to ensure that these principles are placed at the forefront of humanitarian ambitions. Not only would such an approach be the most likely to curb a prospective surge in civil violence once Assad's palace collapses, but it would also do well in repairing relations between the West and the Arab world.

Demo 2012 : Marching In The Wrong Direction

   This was originally published online, by my university newspaper, Nouse.

                                  

As students unions across the country prepare to march on London this Wednesday, they will do so under the new slogan devised by the National Union of Students (NUS) – “Educate, Employ, Empower”.
In the hope that this protest will recapture the energy of the student movement after its speedy demise in 2010, the NUS has thus far attempted to limit the possibilities of violence through framing the protests around attaining a ‘fair deal’ for students. As articulately put by YUSU president Kallum Taylor, “Whatever your politics are, it doesn’t matter. All students want value for money”. Yet, rather than a means of empowerment, such aims may instead further weaken both the credibility of the NUS, and the wider student movement itself.

There are two main reasons why, despite a high turnout of student activists, Wednesday’s protest is unlikely to realise its objectives. First relates to the increasing politicisation of NUS, whereby since 2010, the organisation has done little in terms of developing a coherent structure to which it can effectively organise students. Instead, the focus on the betrayal of the Liberal Democrats and the Coalition Government has reduced the organisation’s public image to one that loudly blames others for its tribulations, while simultaneously churning out student politicians and union leaders. Such characterisations are not completely misconstrued – indeed, under the presidency of Aaron Porter, the NUS became much more concerned with political polemics relating to student fees, than on the state of wider student representation. In looking at the first major event of Liam Burns’ presidency, it sadly seems likely that there will be further political positioning within the union.

More important, however, is that an NUS devoid of a progressive direction for the student movement has found itself confined to debating the issue on the Government’s terms. For the NUS, Wednesday’s protest will aim to set out clear demands for a fair and equitable ‘deal’ for students, which will provide them with the end product of paid employment. Additionally, various student unions, including YUSU, have aligned themselves to similar sentiments. Certainly, this is a far cry from 2010, where students collectively argued (both through on campus occupations and the NUS demo) that any attempt to increase the financial cost of education would not only damage the student, but would also risk the integrity of educational institutions themselves. Ultimately, the nature of the debate has shifted, from a discussion on the wider social value of British higher education institutes, to one reduced to how students can maximise their benefit from the costs of university.

The NUS seems to have abandoned efforts to argue the importance of universities in relation to wider social democracy, and has instead accepted the government’s increasing rhetoric, that the institutions of higher education should simply be extensions of a consumer society.
Although Wednesday’s demo will show the vivacity and energy of the national student body, it seems unlikely that it will be concentrated into a clear and coherent oppositional narrative to the government. Indeed, despite the amiable goals of both student unions and the NUS, the demo seems little more than continued political posturing, ultimately designed as an attempt to reassert the credibility of the NUS as a valuable organisation.

Rewriting History

When the poet Benjamin Zephaniah recently stated that Black and Asian students in the UK are only told ‘half the story’ in the study of history, he inadvertently contributed to the long-standing debate that has lingered not only in the ivory towers, but also at the heart of society. Having famously turned down his OBE on the basis that “Empire evokes slavery, brutality, and oppression” and holding republican views have been referred to in the past as ‘Anti-British’, Zephaniah’s comments should be welcomed in that they illuminate some of the most pressing challenges of our generation – particularly relating to identity, citizenship and the role of public institutions today.

Such comments provide an opportunity to understand how history operates. Though Zephaniah’s argument is by no means novel, it does contribute to a much wider debate on how Europe should deal with it’s imperial past, particularly within multi-racial and multi-ethnic societies. Should the history of Empire be premised on negative notions of guilt and salvation, or exude a forceful triumphalism? Indeed, the former has been characterised through a wealth of post-colonial literature, particularly from scholars such as Catherine Hall and Edward Said, whose work illustrates the subjugation of colonial subjects by European Imperial structures in ways that are almost alien to students of History today. 

 Conversely, latter polemics of Empire, probably best asserted through Niall Ferguson, construct an image of ‘Imperium’ as a revolutionary force, while being somewhat apathetic towards illuminating the tribulations of it’s victims. The conflicts of ideology evident in post-colonial scholarship provide an extremely difficult environment for our public education institutions, particularly those providing secondary education, to teach things like the history of Empire. 

Yet, rather than scholarship itself, the structure of history teaching at public institutions may perpetuate the problems Zephaniah speaks of. Most students who studied history as a GCSE or A level subject are likely to agree that their experience of the subject remained somewhat confined to specific periods, with a practice reduced to approved textbooks. 

Indeed, students who have gone on to study History in university will note how academic research methods vastly contrast with the neatly boxed narratives of the curriculum-based system. Indeed, one could argue that the latter actively encourages historical events to be both generalised and arbitrarily defined to meet the approved standard of Education bureaucrats. This is not to say that history teaching formulates within an ideological paraxis, but rather that a restraining cirricula provides little capacity for critical thought against historical generalisations. 

 

Further, the comments also address a root problem in historical scholarship that many – not least, Niall Ferguson – have warned about; the dialogue between universities and public schools is extremely weak. 

Addressing the Cambridge Union in 2009, Ferguson laid a humorous, yet savage attack on the academic community in failing to bring their research outside of the university. The result was not only that children in public schools failed to receive a vicarious and wide-ranging historical education, but also that many students left school feeling disenfranchised with history itself. This point is extremely crucial if we consider the large amount of poor and ethnic minority children within our public education system today. 

 

Zephaniah’s comments ultimately highlight two problems. First, the dangers of an ideologically driven history should be heeded, particularly by the current education secretary, Michael Gove. More important however, is the danger of university departments failing to engage with the wider public. Such introversion reduces history to textbooks written by untrained historians directed by political bureaucrats, which will ultimately marginalise all school pupils.

Orientalism & the Fallacy of Modernity

                                  
Earlier this year, the words 'Muslim Rage' were splashed out in bold print on the cover of Newsweek magazine. The article, written by the self proclaimed feminist, 'Muslim dissident', argued that acts of angry protest in the 'Muslim world' against a short, anti-Islamic film, actually indicated a wider deficit of modernity. Accompanied by the almost cartoon-like image of an angry Arab man, naturally boasting a beard and turban, the article followed an almost identical line of argument to that of Bernard Lewis' essay, 'The Roots of Muslim Rage'; That the Muslims, despite all Western optimism, are inherently incapable of transitioning into modernity.

The fashioning of such rhetoric is far from novel. As Edward Said argued in his seminal 'Orientalism', western observeration since the eighteenth century commonly tended to place it's own comparative constructions on what is deemed to be the 'Orient'. Such a construction, which includes the Middle East, is characterised as a completely adverse world, occupied by despotic rulers, savage practices and men with uncontrollable libido. Today however, an increasingly volatile region continues to be ravaged by conflict, the Western world finds itself facing renewed temptations to 'reconstruct' the orient. Yet, in contrast to Said's Orientalism through power relationships, the seduction of a 'new orientalism' is founded on the premise of establishing modern institutions designed to 'liberate' people from medieval tyranny.

It is therefore worth considering the underlying framework that conceptualises 'modernity'. On a superficial level, one could argue that such a notion would entail democratic institutions, freedom of speech and minority rights- particularly potent in the case of women and homosexuals. Much broader, is the suggestion that modernity necessitates pluralism, meritocracy and the acceptance of dissidence. Certainly, such a conceptualisation has been examined and developed by a great number of scholars and cultural commentators. Max Weber notoriously coined the 'Protestant work ethic' in 1905, in which he argued that European productivity was the eventual result of an amalgamation between individualism and the translation of labor as a mode of worship. The philosopher John Locke, argued that successful societies require laws that provide safeguards to private property, alongside the human rights of life and liberty. Even today, the composition of 'modern' societies seem to be primarily understood through the existence of western orientated institutions, not least by historians like Niall Ferguson, whose latest book 'Civilization : The West and the Rest', associates the rapid development of the East with the imitation and adoption of western practices. In such cases as these, the idea of modernity seems not to be one that exists upon an axiom subject to time and space, nor on alternative understandings of rights and duties. Rather, the conception is framed in a way that can only be examined as a comparative to western counterparts.

             

The appeal of such narratives lies in it's inherent simplicity- one which placed the 'modern' western world on a higher moral ground than it's 'uncivilised counterparts'. Moving toward the end of the twentieth century, the United States occupied the position of the most powerful nation on earth; it had supposedly 'defeated' communism, attained the greatest financial system in recorded history, and proclaimed itself once more as the 'leaders of the free world'. In the spirit of this triumphalism, emerged a new group of self-proclaimed liberators, who we now refer to as the neo-conservative movement. The movement, built by policy makers, think tanks, businessmen and disenfranchised academics, sought to revive the old imperial traditions of 'bringing modernity to the savage'. So, as the World Trade Centre fell to ashes in 2001, what rose, was a phoenix of opportunism. The neoconservatives that were occupying the Bush whitehouse helped to construct a narrative that claimed the moral imperative to destroy the backward, despotic enemy of modernity, and in so doing, liberate those who were deemed helpless.

In retrospect, it seems clear that the agents of modernity had failed to understand the nature of the force they challenged. For, despite the Leo Straussian inspired moral crusade, and the imaginings of the East through the lens of Bernard Lewis, the 'oriental menace' was ironically, forged in modernity. Far from the origins of Islamic thought espoused by the the early Arabian philosophers such as Ibn Khaladun and Ibn Rushd (both profound contributors to the development of later European intellectual thought). Instead, the ideologies espoused by many of the militant groups, derived from modern writers, such as Sayyid Qutb. In a series of books, Qutb had redisgned the Islamic concept of 'Jahilliyah ', a state of being which suggested a state of ignorance and promiscuity. According to Qutb, it was the duty of the Islamic community to rise up and overthrow the anti-Islamic institutions that had constructed this state, targeting the American consumer society, as well as concepts of 'unholy' rule. Following such a mode, other revolutionary Islamic thinkers, including the Iranian revolutionary, Ali Shariati, assisted in developing new conceptions of philosophical thought. Islamic liberation theology augmented through incorporating ideas of individual emancipation, evident in the thought of Frantz Fanon, amongst other prominent intellectuals such as Jean-Paul Satre. These new ideas, were ultimately built around the idea that through a revolutionary mode of Islam, one would be able to liberate himself from the effects of 'psychological opression', inherent in the moderninising efforts of self proclaimed western 'liberators'.


                       

Thus, the past decade had vidly portrayed a region far more complex and vivacious than may have ever been imagined. paradigms suggesting a conflicting battles of 'good versus evil', or 'civility and barbarianism' prove not only be be drastically distorted, but ultimately unhelpful in the long term. Instead, what is clear in a post-Arab Spring world, is the renewal of dignity and respect, from classes who have long been denied such rights. Understanding this in relation to where we are now, it seems clear that the western world may find it essential to 'modernise' the foundational understandings of modernity itself.