Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Ross Douthat had a great column to start the new year, offering his own interpretation on the Ron Paul phenomenon.  His last few paragraphs:

There’s often a fine line between a madman and a prophet. Perhaps Paul has emerged as a teller of some important truths precisely because in many ways he’s still as far out there as ever.

The United States is living through an era of unprecedented elite failure, in which America’s public institutions are understandably distrusted and our leadership class is justifiably despised. Yet politicians of both parties are required, by the demands of partisanship, to embrace the convenient lie that our problem can be pinned exclusively on the other side’s elites — as though both liberals and conservatives hadn’t participated in the decisions that dug our current hole.

In this climate, it sometimes takes a fearless crank to expose realities that neither Republicans nor Democrats are particularly eager to acknowledge.

In both the 2008 and 2012 campaigns, Paul has been the only figure willing to point out the deep continuities in American politics — the way social spending grows and overseas commitments multiply no matter which party is in power, the revolving doors that connect K Street to Congress and Wall Street to the White House, the long list of dubious policies and programs that both sides tacitly support. In both election cycles, his honest extremism has sometimes cut closer to the heart of our national predicament than the calculating partisanship of his more grounded rivals. He sometimes rants, but he rarely spins — and he’s one of the few figures on the national stage who says “a plague on both your houses!” and actually means it.

Obviously it would be better for the country if this message weren’t freighted with Paul’s noxious baggage, and entangled with his many implausible ideas. But would it be better off without his presence entirely? I’m not so sure.

Neither prophets nor madmen should be elected to the presidency. But neither can they safely be ignored (emphases added).

Conor Friedersdorf and Glenn Greenwald take a similar position.  Greenwald in particular argues that Paul's positions on foreign policy/national security/civil liberties are so much better than the bipartisan consensus view that Paul's tacit approval of those odious newsletters should be heavily discounted.  As Greenwald puts it, progressives who don't support Paul must apparently accept the following preference ordering:

Yes, I’m willing to continue to have Muslim children slaughtered by covert drones and cluster bombs, and America’s minorities imprisoned by the hundreds of thousands for no good reason, and the CIA able to run rampant with no checks or transparency, and privacy eroded further by the unchecked Surveillance State, and American citizens targeted by the President for assassination with no due process, and whistleblowers threatened with life imprisonment for “espionage,” and the Fed able to dole out trillions to bankers in secret, and a substantially higher risk of war with Iran (fought by the U.S. or by Israel with U.S. support) in exchange for less severe cuts to Social Security, Medicare and other entitlement programs, the preservation of the Education and Energy Departments, more stringent environmental regulations, broader health care coverage, defense of reproductive rights for women, stronger enforcement of civil rights for America’s minorities, a President with no associations with racist views in a newsletter, and a more progressive Supreme Court.

I'm of two minds about this line of argument.  On the one hand, there is no denying that Paul's worldview has helped him to launch a powerful critique on American foreign policy.  This can't just be dismissed as "yes, he was right on Iraq, but..." either.  As Douthat, Friedersdorf and Greenwald observe, Paul really is the only candidate to bring up these issues not named Gary Johnson or Jon Hunstman.  His hypothesis that the United States has invited some blowback by overly militarizing its foreign policy cannot be easily dismissed.  

Think of it this way:  Paul is a hedgehog.  He knows One Big Thing and uses it to construct his worldview.  We know from Philip Tetlock that hedgehogs are less likely to be right when making predictions than foxes -- those people who know a little about a lot of things. Hedgehogs outperform foxes is in getting big macro-consequential events correct, however.  We tend to ignore such predictions, however, because hedgehogs usually lack the emotional intelligence necessary to persuade nonbelievers.  I  want Paul banging on about the dangers of excessive government intrusion and overexpansion.  That's not nothing.

Here's the thing, though -- precisely because Paul is a hedgehog, he brings other less-than-desirable qualities to the table.  I don't think his intriguing take on foreign policy and civil liberties can be separated from, say, his batshit-insane views about the Federal Reserve.  In fact, let me just edit Greenwald's proposed tradeoff so that it's a bit more accurate:

Yes, I’m willing to continue to have some Muslim children inadvertently die by covert drones and cluster bombs, and a disproportionate percentage of America’s minorities imprisoned for no good reason, and the CIA taking action with minimal checks or transparency, and privacy eroded further by the unchecked Surveillance State, and American citizens targeted by the President for assassination with no due process, and whistleblowers threatened with life imprisonment for “espionage,” and the Fed able to dole out trillions to bankers and lots of rhetoric & covert action against Iran that makes Glenn Greenwald hyperventilate in exchange for avoiding a complete and total meltdown of the global economy due to the massive deflation that would naturally follow from a re-constituted gold standard. 

I don't like this choice, but it's an easy one to make.    

To paraphrase both Douthat and This is Spinal Tap, there's a fine line between prophetic and crazy.  I would posit that only someone who fanatically accepted this entire worldview would have been capable of inspiring the Ron Paul movement.  Only those leaders with sufficient levels of ideological zeal to never compromise, never bend on principle, until they eventually reach a position of power are able to foment revolution.  This kind of zeal requires a singular worldview that might contain some worthwhile elements but is likely also based on some axioms or articles of faith that seem a little nuts and makes the person wrong an awful lot of the time.  These kinds of leaders, precisely because they were in the political wilderness, will tend to be supremely convinced in their own rightness if they ever win power. 

Ron Paul is great at affecting the marketplace of ideas.  He would be worse than Newt Gingrich if he actually became  president, however.  The great presidents -- Washington, Lincoln, FDR -- knew the when to compromise and when to stand firm, when to lead public opinion and when to follow it.  They were, in other words, great politicians.   The presidents who simply knew they were right on everything and resisted compromise -- Jackson, Wilson, Bush 43 -- tended towards the disastrous.  Paul would be part of the latter group. 

So if Ron Paul wants to influence the debate, that's good.  He raises important questions about important issues.  He's also wrong about some really important issues and therefore should be kept away from the presidency. 

Fortunately, as James Hohmann's Politico story suggests today, Paul and his supporters seem to care about the former more than the latter

As much as anything else, [Paul's] pitch centers on sending a message.

“This is ideological,” he said here late Friday night at his last campaign stop of 2011. “So it isn’t a numbers game. It has to do with determination.”

He paraphrased a Samuel Adams quote, saying, “It doesn’t take a majority to prevail. It takes an irate, determined minority keen on starting the brushfires of liberty in the minds of men.”

“So in many ways, it’s a political revolution to change these ideas, but it’s an intellectual revolution,” Paul explained, wrapping up a nearly hourlong speech. “It’s a change in ideas about economic policy, understanding our traditions about foreign policy, understanding monetary policy. This is where we’re making progress. This is where we have advanced so much over the last couple decades and even in the last four years.”...

Many of his die-hard supporters see him more as an alarm-sounding Paul Revere than a Founding Father.

“I would say its 10 percent campaign, 90 percent a movement,” said Quaitemes Williams, a 26-year-old nursing student who drove from Dallas to volunteer for the full week before the caucuses. “Once you’ve seen the light, you can never go back to the dark. Once you learn about the Federal Reserve and foreign policy, you can’t go back to thinking in the right-left dichotomy.” (emphasis added)

That last quotation, by the way, is part of what I find problematic about the Paul movement.  The revolutionary leader worries me -- but the Jacobin followers scare the ever-living crap out of me.   

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

I was never formally introduced to either Vaclav Havel or Christopher Hitchens, but I encountered both of them exactly once.  I was lucky enough to hear Havel deliver a speech at Stanford University in the fall of 1994.  I don't remember much about the speech itself beyond a vaguely metaphysical theme.  What I do remember is a specific physical gesture.  At one point during the proceedings, at Havel's request, Joan Baez came on stage, played her guitar, and sang a song.  After Havel spoke, everyone exited the stage, Havel last.  He noticed Baez's guitar, and picked it up.  As he left the stage, he looked over his shoulder and raised the guitar over his head.  The expression on his face screamed, "can you believe I'm holding Joan Baez's friggin' guitar??!!!

My encounter with Hitchens was a little more mundane -- we were both participating at an AEI panel in early 2001 on international law.  I was on a morning panel, and afterwards, Hitchens gave the lunch keynote.  I can recall the standard Hitchens attributes:  him reeking of cigarettes and alcohol, but nevertheless giving a very good speech.  What I also remember is talking with one of the AEI assistants who was tasked with "handling" Hitchens for the day.  We started chatting, and at one point she said plainly, "the minute he leaves here will not be soon enough for me." 

I'd love to be able to divine some deeper meaning from their deaths, but I'm not quite as inspired a writer as either of them.  It's funny to think that Hitchens started out politically to the left of Havel, swerving a bit to his right about a decade ago, but that's not a theme.  Rather, this being a blog, I have two unrelated thoughts. 

First, as someone who has written a thing or two about public intellectuals, Havel really was extraordinary as someone who could be trusted with power.  As Mark Lilla noted in his excellent The Reckless Mind, intellectuals don't really have a distinguished track record when they actually acquire power.  Havel was a notable exception -- perhaps because he never really thought he should have it.  In David Remnick's New Yorker write-up of the end of Havel's (politically successful) presidency, the politics of doubt that I like so much shines through quite clearly: 

At times, Havel felt thoroughly insufficient, a fraud. A familiar Prague voice, the voice of Kafka, told him what anyone who has grown up in a police state knows instinctually—that it could all end as easily as it started.

"I am the kind of person who would not be in the least surprised if, in the very middle of my Presidency, I were to be summoned and led off to stand trial before some shadowy tribunal, or taken straight to a quarry to break rocks," he told a startled audience at Hebrew University, in Jerusalem, less than six months after taking office. "Nor would I be surprised if I were to suddenly hear the reveille and wake up in my prison cell, and then, with great bemusement, proceed to tell my fellow-prisoners everything that had happened to me in the past six months. The lower I am, the more proper my place seems; and the higher I am the stronger my suspicion is that there has been some mistake."

In Havel's thirteen years as President—first of Czechoslovakia and then, after the Slovaks and the Czechs divided into two states, in 1993, of the Czech Republic—many of his advisers repeatedly begged him to delete, or at least soften, these public moments of self-doubt. What effect would they have on an exhausted people waiting for the radical transformation of their country? (Imagine Chirac or Blair, Bush or Schröder beginning a national address with an ode to his midnight dread!) Havel, however, would not be edited. The Presidential speech was the only literary genre left to him now, his most direct means of expressing not only his personal feelings but also the spirit of the distinctively human politics he wanted to encourage after so many decades of inhuman ideology. "Some aides tried to stop him, but these speeches had a therapeutic value for him," Havel's closest aide, Vladimír Hanzel, told me.

As Ta-Nehisi Coates observed recently, most people are mediocre and, if they were given power, would likely not exercise it all that benevolently.   Havel was about as far away from mediocre as one could be. 

Hitchens was not mediocre, but neither was he gentle, and so his passing generated a more variegated response.  There was the eruption of fond memories from fellow writers at his ability to consume and produce prodigious amounts of prose and other substances -- this one is my favorite.  It's also led Glenn Greenwald to grouse about the hagiography that the death of public figures ostensibly produces: 

We are all taught that it is impolite to speak ill of the dead, particularly in the immediate aftermath of someone’s death. For a private person, in a private setting, that makes perfect sense. Most human beings are complex and shaped by conflicting drives, defined by both good and bad acts. That’s more or less what it means to be human. And — when it comes to private individuals — it’s entirely appropriate to emphasize the positives of someone’s life and avoid criticisms upon their death: it comforts their grieving loved ones and honors their memory. In that context, there’s just no reason, no benefit, to highlight their flaws.

But that is completely inapplicable to the death of a public person, especially one who is political. When someone dies who is a public figure by virtue of their political acts — like Ronald Reagan — discussions of them upon death will be inherently politicized. How they are remembered is not strictly a matter of the sensitivities of their loved ones, but has substantial impact on the culture which discusses their lives. To allow significant political figures to be heralded with purely one-sided requiems — enforced by misguided (even if well-intentioned) notions of private etiquette that bar discussions of their bad acts — is not a matter of politeness; it’s deceitful and propagandistic. To exploit the sentiments of sympathy produced by death to enshrine a political figure as Great and Noble is to sanction, or at best minimize, their sins. Misapplying private death etiquette to public figures creates false history and glorifies the ignoble.

Meh.  I read a lot of the Hitchens write-ups, and a fair number of them were pretty blunt about his personal and political dark sides.  Even critics like Corey Robin acknowledge the  "consistent line" of “Yes, he was wrong on Iraq, but…”  in the public responses to his death.  This suggests that Hitchens has not, in fact, been a subject of one-sided requiems. even by those who liked him. 

I suspect two things are going on in the public reaction to Hitchens' death, one unique to him and one that's more general.  What was unique about Hitchens was that he was an archetype brought to life.  Here was a real, honest-to-goodness heavy drinking, heavy smoking, occasionally rude Brit who could nevertheless dash off excellent writing on a daily basis.  Where do you actually see that outside of the movies nowadays? 

The more general trend is that in an age of self-publishing, perhaps the personal and the public are more fused than Greenwald realizes or comprehends.  Hitchens hung around with a lot of writers, and as friends it's not shocking that their initial responses will be to talk about the private individual behind the public persona.  As time passess, more strangers will push back, there will be more sober reassessments, and eventually some kind of perspective is achieved.  The thing about the internet is that it amplifies these cycles of reactions and counterreactions for all to see.   

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Your humble blogger is down in Washington DC to attend FP's Global Thinkers gala, in honor of the magazine's annual Top 100 Global Thinker list.  I look forward to seeing some of the thinkers I know (Tyler Cowen, Joseph Nye) and meeting the many that I don't know. 

This list tends to beget a lot of carping from my friends who erroneously believe that I contol the entire FP-verse like a Muppeteer in the Twitterverse  about who's on the list, and in some ways, that's kind of the point -- to foster debate.  I'd like to ask my readers a slightly different question:  who got overlooked?  Who are the BigThinkers  that FP missed? 

Put your answer in the comments!

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Here's an open secret -- most American foreign policy observers loathe domestic politics.  To those who seek to define and distill the national interest, the notion that factions or parties can get in the way of the common good is very, very frustrating.  This is why, whenever gridlock breaks out in Washington, there is a spasm of caterwauling from prominent foreign policy thinkers that Something.  Must.  Be  Done. 

This leads to some silly memes, like claims that a third party will break the logjam.  It won't -- a glance at Duverger's Law and you know that the first-past-the-post electoral system in this country means that a two-party system is the only stable long-term equilibrium.  A third party in the United States could only achieve electoral viability in one of two ways:  either supplanting one of the existing parties, or focusing on success in a particular region.  Since neither of these outcomes has occurred since the Civil War, I'm not holding my breath. 

Gridlock frustration also leads to proposals of Grand Diagnoses and Remedies for Fixing the System.  Fareed Zakaria goes down this road, offering a diagnosis of why partisanship has been rising in the United States and then links to Mickey Edwards' essay in The Atlantic of how to fix things.  Zakaria, riffing off of Edwards, lists four reasons why partisanship is so high: 

1)  Redistricting has created safe seats so that for most House members, their only concern is a challenge from the right for Republicans and the left for Democrats....

2) Party primaries have been taken over by small groups of activists who push even popular senators to extreme positions.

3) Changes in Congressional rules have also made it far more difficult to enact large, compromise legislation.

4) Political polarization has also been fueled by a new media, which is also narrowcast.

These sound compelling, except that A) none of them really explain increased polarization in the Senate; and B) only the fourth trend is in any way recent (the rest of these phenomenas can be traced back to the 1970's).   

The real problem with Congress is that any proposed institutional reform to correct the problems would require either a dilution of legislative power or a dilution of the minority's power to obstruct.  Neither minority nor majority parties in Congress will be interested in moves like that unless and until we're in a crisis that made 2008 look like a ripple in the pond. 

If you are looking to this humble blogger for ways out of this current problem... um... look elsewhere.  My training is in international relations, and I've found that people with that kind of training tend to prefer policy reforms that provide political leeway and insulation to the executive branch.  These measures are appealing because they tend to minimize the number of stupid interactions with galactically stupid members of Congress.  Over the long-term, however, even a stupid Congress still serves as a valuable check on executive branch authority. 

I'm as frustrated as the next foreign policy observer when it comes to the current policy paralysis.  I know my own kind, however, and we suffer from the flawed belief that there was a halcyon era of bipartisanship in the foreign policy days of yore.  Be very, very wary when a foreign policy pundit gives advice about how to reform the American system of government.  Most of the time they are relying on decades-old Introduction to American Government arguments that are either obsolecent or incentive incompatible. 

Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

The Official Blog Son and I were lucky enough to catch Team USA's thrilling come-from-behind victory over Brazil in the FIFA Women's World Cup. It was a great and controversial game, sure to be replayed on ESPN Classic for years to come. It also got me to thinking about how prominent thinkers and writers about world politics would use the game as a hook for their foreign affairs columns and op-eds this week. Here are their opening paragraphs:

Tom Friedman:

I was quaffing hearty German pilsners with FIFA President Sepp Blatter in a luxury box in Dresden's Glücksgas Stadium (try the bratwurst!!) when he said something that hit me like a thunderbolt: "I can't understand why there's so much demand for video replay in soccer. You know, there is no instant replay in the real world." And really, that's what the global economy is like -- a fast-speed, arcing bullet of a free kick with no time to press the pause button. You have to use every part of your being -- your legs, your head, though admittedly not your arms -- just to keep pace.

Anne-Marie Slaughter:

Watching the thrilling run of the Americans leading up to Abby Wambach's header, I was struck by the complex, free-flowing sequence of passes that got the ball from the American end to Megan Rapinoe's left foot. It was such a seamless, interlaced network of exchanges -- dare I call it a web of them? -- that moved the ball forward. As the passes moved from one player to another, I bet social networking technologies moved even faster, alerting Americans that a Big Moment was about to happen. In winning, the United States showed the power of webbed networks -- or is it networked webs? -- yet again.

Kishore Mahbubani:

All of the Western media will focus on the "theatrics" of the USA-Brazil game, but it doesn't matter. This was an intramural match between Western Hemisphere teams, which means it was irrelevant. Japan's stunning upset of host Germany in the quarterfinals is the real story of this World Cup, yet another signal of how the one remaining Asian team will leave the three "Western" teams still alive in the dust.

Charles Krauthammer:

This was an example of American exceptionalism and American will to power at its finest. Battling a set of rules and referees that were clearly anti-American in their effect, the noble U.S. side displayed dogged determination and grit, vanquishing their Brazilian counterparts. The only black mark on the U.S. side was the timidity of the U.S. coach Pia Sundhage in obeying FIFA's absurd and corrupt rules. Sundhage, from that socialist bastion of meek multilateralism that is Sweden, adhered to the letter of FIFA law in pulling Rachel Buehler after she was "red-carded." A true American coach would have instead followed the spirit of the law and sent an 11th player onto the pitch in place of the unjustly accused Buehler.

Glenn Greenwald:

Americans will thump their chests, display their brassy jingoism, and bray to the heavens about how the refereeing in this game was "unfair" or "ridiculous." They'll claim that the referee's red card of Buehler and mandated do-over of the penalty kick during regular time was "anti-American." They'll overlook the fact that the Australian ref could have midfielder Carli Lloyd off the field for a flagrant, deliberate handball but didn't. They'll overlook the granting of a re-kick for U.S. player Shannon Boxx during the penalty kick phase. They'll overlook the aesthetic beauty of Brazilian star Marta's soccer artistry. They'll overlook the arrogance of U.S. goalkeeper Hope Solo -- a perfect American name if there ever was one -- as she had the audacity to question the ref (if the officials weren't so obviously in Corporate America's back pocket, Solo would have been red-carded). They'll overlook the fact that the extra half-hour of play insidiously stacked the deck for the Americans, rewarding their better conditioning against the poorer and put-upon Brazilians. They'll overlook the 158 other things that I will now lay out in excruciating detail. Only when WikiLeaks focuses its might on FIFA will the soccer world be more just.

Robert D. Kaplan:

The sweltering heat in Dresden clearly began to affect the crowd. They booed the Brazilian star Marta with all of her touches. You could sense a growing danger as the boos grew louder. The German fans, upset at seeing their own team get knocked out, had clearly decided to side with their tribal allies. It is likely that only Wambach's header prevented what would have been an unruly German/American riot, breaking down the tenuous social fabric. The riot would have started in the heart of Europe, but I have every confidence that, before long, the unrest would have spread to Halford MacKinder's heartland in the middle of Eurasia.

Gideon Rachman

This match crystallized both the promise and the peril of the rising BRIC powers as they assume more responsibilities in global governance. The game put FIFA's many problems -- bad decision-making, a lack of transparency about the bad decision-making -- on full display. Even after the match, FIFA never explained why Brazil was awarded a re-kick following Solo's block of Christina's penalty kick. Instead of constructively seeking reform, however, the Brazilian side tried to free-ride off of FIFA's flaws. Marta constantly whined to the refs about the lack of Brazilian free kicks. Defender Erkia flopped onto the pitch in a transparent effort to stall play. Unless and until the BRIC countries learn to play cooperatively with the fading West, global governance will look as effective as FIFA's efforts to block corruption. Which is to say, not effective at all.

Readers are warmly encouraged to offer their own suggestions in the comments.

As the fallout from Dominique Strauss-Kahn and The Chambermaid's Tale continues, the guy from the Dos Equis commercials French public intellectual Bernard-Henri Lévy is taking quite a beating inside the United States.  Lévy -- or BHL for those in the know -- is a longtime friend of Strauss-Kahn -- or DSK for, well, you get the idea.  After DSK's arrest, BHL penned the following in the Daily Beast:

I do not know what actually happened Saturday, the day before yesterday, in the room of the now famous Hotel Sofitel in New York.

I do not know—no one knows, because there have been no leaks regarding the declarations of the man in question—if Dominique Strauss-Kahn was guilty of the acts he is accused of committing there, or if, at the time, as was stated, he was having lunch with his daughter [we actually know that, given the timeline, DSK's lunch with his daughter is not an alibi, as even his defenders acknowlege --DWD].

I do not know—but, on the other hand, it would be nice to know, and without delay—how a chambermaid could have walked in alone, contrary to the habitual practice of most of New York’s grand hotels of sending a “cleaning brigade” of two people, into the room of one of the most closely watched figures on the planet....

And what I know even more is that the Strauss-Kahn I know, who has been my friend for 20 years and who will remain my friend, bears no resemblance to this monster, this caveman, this insatiable and malevolent beast now being described nearly everywhere. Charming, seductive, yes, certainly; a friend to women and, first of all, to his own woman, naturally, but this brutal and violent individual, this wild animal, this primate, obviously no, it’s absurd.

This morning, I hold it against the American judge who, by delivering him to the crowd of photo hounds, pretended to take him for a subject of justice like any other....

I hold it against all those who complacently accept the account of this other young woman, this one French, who pretends to have been the victim of the same kind of attempted rape, who has shut up for eight years but, sensing the golden opportunity, whips out her old dossier and comes to flog it on television.

I do not know the extent to which BHL fact-checked his column -- for example, the French woman he accuses of being opportunistic now actually went public in 2007 only to have herself censored on French television. 

I do not know the extent to which BHL is aware that DSK's other sexual indiscretions appear to have a greater element of coercion than had been previously realized. 

I do not know why BHL's understanding of "cleaning brigades" is somewhat at odds with the reality of how American hotels actually function. 

I do know that in the United States, BHL's reputation has fallen almost as fast as Ben Stein's. 

So, this raises an exceptionally uncomfortable question for some foreign policy commentators.  BHL might look like a horse's ass right now, but six or seven weeks ago, he was playing a very different role.  According to BHL himself multiple press reports, Bernard-Henri Lévy was the interlocutor between Libya's rebels and the rest of the world.  He therefore played a crucial role in getting French President Nicolas Sarkozy -- and therefore, the West more generally -- to intervene in Libya.  This caused some consternation at the time.  It would obviously set off even louder alarm bells now. 

Given this role, Ben Smith tweets a very valid question:  "So if the order of DSK-gate and Libya are reversed... do we go into Libya?"

This touches on some very interesting questions about temporality, causation, correlation and counterfactuals.  What are the necessary or sufficient conditions for a policy outcome to occur?  Do events have to happen in a particular sequence to reach a particular outcome? Was BHL either a necessary or sufficient condiition for the UN/NATO action in Libya? 

My answer would be that Bernard-Henri Lévy's intellectual reputation was neither necessary nor sufficient for Operation Odyssey Dawn to take place.  Consider the following: 

1)  French president Nicolas Sarkozy has been more circumspect than BHL in commenting on DSK, reflecting the general muteness of the French political class on the topic.  It seems unlikely that BHL's ardent advocacy would have caused Sarkozy to listen to him any less on Libya.

2)  One of the key aspects of the Libya decision was the compressed time frame in which it had to be made.  Qaddafi's forces seemed on the verge of retaking the country within a week.  Debating whether BHL was an honest broker or not seemed pretty peripheral to the real-time changes on the ground in Libya.  It's worth remembering that the Arab League and the UN Security Council acted very quickly by International Organization Standard Time, and I certainly don't think BHL had much of a role to play.  On the scale of things, one would have expected the "flickers" of Al Qaeda presence among the Libyan rebels to have acted as a bigger brake, and yet that fact did not derail the policy either. 

3)  Without in any way diminishing the allegatioons and official charges against DSK, there is a difference between  the (mostly) venal sins of BHL  and the French political class, and the (mostly) mortal sins of Qaddafi and his family  If the Libya decision was happening right now, my hunch is that it would drown out much of the Franco-American contretemps over American puritanism French misogyny one person's failings. 

What do you think? 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Your humble blogger has not been contributing to the Osama-a-thon here at FP blogging all that much, because he was busy being a moosehead attending the 2011 Estoril Conference.  Many Important topics were covered at this conference, including: 

1)  The eurozone crisis;

2)  The global governance crisis;

3)  The crisis in the Middle East;

4)  Other global security challenges;

5)  The life and times of Larry King

It was that kind of conclave. 

Actually, that really doesn't do it justice.  Here's a link to the opening video.  Even that doesn't do it justice -- the opening ceremonies featured a sporano suspended 50 feet in the air, a gospel choir, a drum corps, and what I can only assume are the backup dancers for Lady Gaga's music videos. 

For a rundown of what the Big Cheeses said at the conference, check out my Twitter feed.  The major substantive takeaway I got from the conference is that Portugal would like to do a serious hurt dance on Fitch, Moody's, and Standard & Poor.  Half of the conference presenters were Portuguese, and most of the audience was as well.  Here is a sampling of the questions the Portuguese asked anyone talking about anything remotely related to economics: 

"Why do the bond rating agencies still influence markets after they failed so badly in 2008?"

"Shouldn't the bond-rating agencies be punished for their malfeasance last decade?"

"Aren't the bond-rating agencies to blame for everything bad that has happened since 2008?"

"What do you think of the idea of creating a European standard-ratings agency?"

"Say, has anyone thought about taking the heads of the bond-rating agencies and putting them in a duffel bag?" 

OK, I made that last one up, but not the others. 

Obviously, the Portuguese have very good reasons to be stressed out.  And the bond-rating agencies deserrve an awful amount of flack.  Still, the idea that they -- and they alone -- triggered both the 2008 financial crisis and Europe's sovereign debt crisis is absurd.  They are far more the symptom than the cause of the crisis. 

More blogging after my eyes adjust to not seeing Lady Gaga's backup dancers everywhere I turn the weekend. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

As Laura Rozen, Michael Peel, Farah Stockman, Jon WienerJohn Sides, Siddhartha Mahanta & David Corn, and various reporters have observed, an awful lot of high-powered academics and academic institutions have some 'splainin to do about their relationship with Libya's Qaddafi family.

The Monitor Group ferried a number of high-profile international studies scholars, including Joseph Nye, Robert Putnam, Michael Porter, Francis Fukuyama, Nicholas Negroponte, and Benjamin Barber to the shores of Tripoli in an effort to burnish the regime's image. The London School of Economics and some of its faculty were deeply involved with Saif al-Islam al-Qaddafi, as he earned his Ph.D. there in 2007 with a dissertation on -- wait for it -- liberal democracy and civil society. Even FP's own Steve Walt went for a brief visit in 2010.

As the Qaddafi family has morphed from pragmatic strongmen to bloodthirsty killers, the fallout in the academic world has been uneven. On the one hand, Howard Davies resigned as the head of LSE in the wake of the Libyan revelations. The Monitor Group acknowledged in a statement that, "We … believed that these visits could boost global receptivity for Mr. Gaddafi's stated intention to move the country more towards the West and open up to the rest of the world. Sadly, it is now clear that we, along with many others, misjudged that possibility."

On the other hand, Benjamin Barber sounds totally unapologetic in his interview with FP. His basic message is that "second-guessing the past, I mean, it's just 20/20 hindsight." Then there's this response:

I mean, did LSE take Saif's money -- the Gaddafi Foundation money -- improperly? No, they all took it properly. And promised a scholarly center to study the Middle East and North Africa. And offer scholarships to students from the region. Just the way Harvard and Georgetown and Cambridge and Edinburgh have done -- not with Libyan money, but with Saudi money (look at Prince Alwaleed bin Talal). By the way, not just Monitor, but McKinsey, Exxon, Blackstone, the Carlyle Group -- everybody was in it. The only difference for Monitor was that it actually had a project that was aimed at trying to effect some internal change. Everybody else who went in, which is every major consultancy, every major financial group, went in to do nothing more than make big bucks for themselves. But now people are attacking Monitor because they took consulting fees for actually trying to effect reform and change.

Finally, there is an important background controversy here: It is about whether academics should stay in the ivory tower and do research and write books? Or engage in the world on behalf of the principles and theories their research produces? Do you simply shut your mouth and write? Or do you try to engage? This is an old question that goes back to Machiavelli, back to Plato going to Syracuse: Do you engage with power? Sometimes power is devilish and brutal; sometimes it's simply constitutional and democratic; but in every case, it's power, and to touch it is to risk being tainted by it.

My answer is that each person has to make their own decision. I don't condemn those who prefer the solitude of the academy, though they lose the chance to effect change directly; and I don't condemn those who do try to influence power, risking being tainted by it, even when power doesn't really pay much attention to them, whether its legitimate power like in the United States or illegitimate, as in Libya. The notion that there is something wrong with people who choose to intervene and try to engage the practice of democracy -- that they are somehow more morally culpable than people who prefer not to intervene -- is to me untenable.

Rereading his 2007 Washington Post op-ed, I think it's safe to say that Barber embraced sucking up to power juuuuuuuuust a wee bit more fervently than everyone else.

That said, the man has half a point here. As Ben Wildavsky has chronicled in The Great Brain Race, Western universities have been racing across the globe to set up additional revenue streams satellite campuses in authoritarian countries. Those schools that had no dealings with Libya likely do have dealings with the Gulf emirates, or China, or Russia, or … you get the point.

Furthermore, if you believe what Charles Kupchan writes in How Enemies Become Friends, it's precisely this category of interactions that potentially leads to reduced tensions between rival nations. Bear in mind that by 2006 Libya had renounced its WMD program and did seem somewhat interested in integrating itself into the West. Surely that's a moment when these kinds of interactions could havehad  an appreciable effect on a country's trajectory.

Another ethical question comes down to exactly how a scholar is engaging with a country. Engagement at the elite level, for example, has a greater potential for change, but also a great potential for "capture" by the authoritarian elite. Engagement with the population might have fewer moral quandaries (if there's a choice between teaching Saudi women* and not teaching Saudi women, for example, is not teaching really the morally correct option? ) but fewer opportunities for change.

There's an interesting quote in Farah Stockman's write-up that does stand out, however:

“The really nefarious aspect of [Monitor's parade of academics] is that it reinforced in Khadafy’s mind that he truly was an international intellectual world figure, and that his ideas of democracy were to be taken seriously,’’ said Dirk Vandewalle, associate professor at Dartmouth College and author of “A History of Modern Libya.’’ “It reinforced his reluctance to come to terms with the reality around him, which was that Libya is in many ways an inconsequential country and his ideas are half-baked.’’

In the Libyan case, maybe that is the best criteria for assorting ethical responsibility. For a scholar, engagement with power should not be automatically rejected, particularly if it means altering policies in a fruitful manner. When the exercise morphs into intellectual kabuki theater, however, then disengagement seems like the best course of action.

Those scholars who stopped participating after it was obvious that Qaddafi wasn't really interested in genuine change don't deserve much opprobrium. By that count, Barber really has a lot to answer for, while some of the others seem to have emerged relatively unscathed.

I'm curious what commenters have to say about this because I guarantee you one thing -- the more that autocratic regimes either buckle or crack down, the more this issue is going to come up for both universities and individual scholars.

[Full disclosure:  I taught a short course for Saudi women at Fletcher in the summer of 2009, and have absolutely no regrets about doing so.]

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Since I moved to Foreign Policy, the blog post that generated the most feedback was my impressionistic take on the Millennial generation's foreign policy perspectives.  I concluded that post on whether generaional cohorts would have distinct foreign policy attitudes with the following:

As I think about it, here are the Millennials' foundational foreign policy experiences: 

1)  An early childhood of peace and prosperity -- a.k.a., the Nineties;

2)  The September 11th attacks;

3)  Two Very Long Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq;

4)  One Financial Panic/Great Recession;

5)  The ascent of China under the shadow of U.S. hegemony. 

From these experiences, I would have to conclude that this generation should be anti-interventionist to the point of isolationism. 

There was a LOT of very thoughtful pushback in the comments and e-mails from Millennials themselves -- enough for me to wonder whether my jaded Gen-Xer eyes were growing too world-weary. 

Now, however, we actually have some data.  The Brookings Institution has released a new report, "D.C.'s New Guard: What Does the Next Generation of American Leaders Think?"  The survey results came from 1,057 respondents (with a average age of 16.4) who attended the National Student Leadership Conference, Americans for Informed Democracy young leaders programs, and other DC internships -- i.e., those young people already predisposed towards a political career.   

The results are veeeeery revealing.  The headline figure is that 73% of respondents think that "The U.S. is no longer globally respected" -- which actually suggests that the respondents haven't been looking at the data, but that's a side note.  No, the really interesting response is as follows:

[A]lmost 58% of the young leaders in this survey agreed with the statement that the U.S. is too involved in global affairs and should do more at home. Alternatively, 32.4% thought the U.S. had "struck the right balance" between issues at home and abroad," while only 10% thought that the United States should be more globally proactive.

This isolationist sentiment among the younger generation stands in stark comparison to the Chicago Council's recent 2010 polling of older Americans, which found that 67% wanted America to have an active role in the world and only 31% thought we should limit our involvement, a near exact reverse. The older generation survey concluded that there was "persisting support for an internationalist foreign policy at levels unchanged from the past," but this perceived persistence is certainly not there among the young leaders (emphasis added).

Now, to be fair, It is possible to reconcile beliefs that the United States is doing too much abroad now while still believing that the U.S. should exert global leadership, but on a more modest scale.  Still, I'm counting this as a clear win over the young people insisting that my impressionistic take on their generation was wrong.  Take that, Bieberheads!!!

[Hey, I just noticed this paragraph by P.W. Singer at the start of the report:

In 2011, a “silver tsunami” will hit the United States: the oldest Baby Boomers will reach the United States’ legal retirement age of 65. As the Boomers leave the scene, a new generation will begin to take over. But while the generation that directly follows the Boomers, Generation X, may be “of age”, there is a good chance that it will not actually shape public life and leadership as much the following generation, the Echo Boomers, also known as the “Millennials." (emphasis added)

Say, could that swipe at your generation explain your attitude in this post?--ed.] 

No!!  Really!!  It has nothing to do with that!  Now if you'll excuse me, I need to lock myself into a dark room and watch Reality Bites on an endless loop for the next 24 hours. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Erik Gartzke, an associate professor of political science at UCSD and a man who's Google Scholar citation count makes me feel very, very small, sent me the following thoughts on political science and policy relevance.  I reprint them, below, without edits or comment:

ZOMBIE RELEVANCE

by Erik Gartzke

Dan Drezner's penchant for zombies may have yet another application.  In the policy relevance debate, political scientists are like Renfield, Dracula's sidekick (or possibly like Thomas the Tank engine if children are present).  We really want to be "useful."  I know of no other discipline that is so angst-ridden about mattering, even those that don't matter in any concrete, "real world" sense.  Obviously, what makes us different from poets, particle physicists, or Professors of Pediatric Oncology is that we study politics and occasionally imagine that this gives us some special salience to that subject.  Policy makers, too, want us to be "relevant," though I think what they have in mind differs in important respects.

There are three ways that political science can be relevant to politics.  On both sides of the debate, attention seems focused on only one of these roles.  Interestingly, each side has chosen a different role to emphasize.  First, academics could have expertise that is valuable in connecting policies to outcomes.  We have lots of examples of this.  Economists invented theories like adverse taxation and tools like GDP to help policy makers more effectively manage the economy.  Unfortunately, there are very few insights or tools from political science, and those we do have are either very narrowly relevant (i.e. techniques for gerrymandering congressional districts to achieve affirmative action objectives), or very imprecise (i.e. nuclear balancing).  Academic political scientists consciously _want_ this role, but the complaint from policy makers is that they do it poorly, providing policy guidance that is not expert enough, or overly nuanced and complex.  This would seem to imply that political science should remain in the ivory tower, developing better tools.  Instead, however, the argument appears to be that political science should give up these tools and practice a form of political consultation more comprehensible by the policy community.  One then has to ask why, and what this will achieve.  Is it the case, as many argue, that non-expert political scientists will be more useful?  Why?

Interestingly, one of the critical exceptions to the general trend, and examples where political scientists have prospered in Washington as experts, involves pollsters.  Survey methodology got its start in political science and has penetrated deeply into the political process, precisely because pollsters can provide valuable information to politicians and policy makers about cause and effect.  Pollsters are now even regulars as pundits, asked to shill for policies and politicians on the basis of their expertise. 

The second thing that academics can provide is thus credibility.  We can "speak truth to power" or perhaps just generally speak the truth, at least as we see it.  This could be valuable if policy makers themselves have become zombies, enslaved to a process that prevents them from stating things, even when obvious, that are unpopular or controversial.  We see this happening in processes such as the Base Closure Commission, where outsiders helped to smooth a transition that was politically difficult.  This kind of relevance is difficult, however, as politics is not really about the truth.  Paul Pillar, one of the protagonists the debate ("In your face, political science!") found this out, much to his regret.  One of the least zombie-like people in the national security bureaucracy, Paul was the perfect foil as author of the national intelligence estimate that legitimated the Bush policy of invading Iraq.  In his, and his boss's moment to speak truth, they propagated a politically-expiedent myth.  This kind of policy relevance really _is_ valuable to policy makers, especially since credibility is such a scarce commodity inside the beltway, and so valued elsewhere.  The problem, of course, from an academic perspective is that selling credibility has nothing directly to do with expertise and everything to do with what, for lack of a better phrase, was once called "moral turpitude."  The value in academics in holding forth in Washington may have as much to do on occasion with their _lack_ of contact with policy making, as with their putative expertise, at least in terms of credibility. 

A corollary to this is the role of academistic consultants, some with faculty positions, others with beltway connections, that provide "research" that feeds the beast of the Washington policy machine.  This can be financially rewarding, but the desire for funding leads to varying degrees of compromise, a zombification by extension.

The third contribution that academics can make to the policy community is one that all seem to agree upon, but which makes the least direct demand on political science as a substantive discipline.  The intellectual discipline of first getting a PhD and then practicing as an academic gives one an ordered, logical mind, which can then be applied to tasks in the policy community, as well as to more purely intellectual pursuits.  There is nothing wrong with this, but then again, there is nothing particularly unique about how political science does this that prevents scholars in other disciplines from applying themselves to policy making as well.  Indeed, this is what we observe.  Sociologists, economists, engineers and physicists (even the occasional poet) enter public service. 

-------------------------------------------------

What makes political science different from most other fields is that we have failed to resolve our conflict with our subject matter.  Poets report the human condition.  They do not expect to alter it, at least not permanently.  Physicians can make you better, so they do intervene, but their detachment is credible in the sense that they do not want to become illnesses.  No physicist I know of hankers to _be_ her subject matter, though of course we are all of us made of matter.  Political science alone wants to be different but engaged. 

Imagine suggesting to a congressional committee that Congress should abandon the forecasting models of the OMB as esoteric and speculative.  Try to suggest to someone like Paul Pillar that he should hanker after the "good old days" of pre-GDP census taking and data collection.  Economics became policy relevant in the first sense because it developed tools that could help policy makers better connect their actions with outcomes.  These are not perfect, as recent events illustrate, but they work better than the old way of doing things (i.e. whatever we did last time, or holding one's thumb up to the wind).  The problem is that political science does not yet have "killer apps" like GDP.  Optimists would say we are still working on these things.  Pessimists would say that they will never come.  I will not weigh in on that debate because in some sense it does not matter. 

The real point, however, is that the debate does not matter.  Either way, the search for policy relevance, as it is pursued by many in the policy community, makes no sense.
If you believe the optimists, then the correct role of political science is to get back in the kitchen (metaphorically) and cook up some good insights and tools so that we can eventually fulfill role number one.  If you are instead pessimistic and despair of political science ever achieving much headway in terms of expertise, then you should still prefer us in our academic enclaves, only occasionally venturing down from the mountain, since this is what gives us our credibility as unbiased agents.  The largely pessimistic perception of policy practitioners implies that they should treat political scientists like poets, or perhaps adherents of atonal music.  Someone gets it, but thank God it is hidden in academic cloisters!  This is perhaps what policy makers often do, as suggested by Paul Pillar's example of the debate between academics over perestroika witnessed by James Baker.

Another possibility is that those in the policy community wish academic political scientists were more like them for reason number three.  This, however, does not make much sense.  There can be no harm in making some political scientists esoteric if after all not everyone can move in policy circles.  The training of academic political scientists still provides disciplined minds.  Nor does it appear to be the case that there is a shortage of policy-eager political scientists to staff government bureaus and policy-focused beltway agencies and advocacy groups.  In this light, academic political science may be accused of leading the youth astray, but no more than poetry or physics departments.

So what is it that makes many in the policy community so uncomfortable with academic political science, and for that measure why are political scientists so anxious about being labeled as not policy relevant?  The best I can come up with again involves those zombies.  Zombies eat the living.  They move slowly, clumsily, if inexorably.  People who run away can escape the zombies.  So, the problem for zombies is that they cannot really catch unwilling prey.  Academic political scientists, for their part, are strangely attracted to these undead creatures.    They run, but not vigorously.  Having your brains eaten is bad, but still, it is nice to be valued for something in which you have considerable pride....
Academic political scientists keep looking back to see if they can make eye contact with one of those zombies, maybe share a good anecdote, provide some advice, secure funding for the next research project...

There is the hint of the symbiotic relationship between predator and prey, political scientist and policy community.  Each needs something from the other, even as both communities see the other as distant, alien.  Policy practitioner-political scientists who disdainfully remark that they cannot even read the American Political Science Review would never see the need to make such a comment about a journal like Solid State Physics, or the Journal of Philosophy.  Academic political scientists, for their part, should stop pretending that their main value to the policy community at present is in their expertise and fess up, if appropriate, to providing credibility or intellectual discipline (directly or through our students).

Becoming comfortable with this duality as a community also means embracing the differences that follow from that duality.  Some of us should be in the ivory tower, just like physicists, chemical engineers, and art historians.  In order for political science to fulfill the objective of expertise, it must --- like other fields of expertise --- become "expert", and unfortunately that really means becoming largely incomprehensible to all but those deeply enmeshed in the field or a particular subfield, at least for the purposes of "inhouse" debates.  Others will work best in applying, interpreting, or otherwise interacting with the "real world" -- though if this characterization of non-academia were true, we would not need anyone studying (i.e. how does one know the real world and still hanker after insights that would connect his-or-her actions with the (unknown) implications of policy?).  In any case, those of us on the academic side should stop teasing the zombies, just as the zombies should stop pretending that every academic brain is a ready meal.  "Policy relevance" is a complex set of social phenomena that both attract and repel political scientists on both sides of the policy divide.  Let some of us be more like our poet, mathematician or linguist brethren and become one with our academic-nerd nature.  Others can prefer to engage Washington more directly, but they will make themselves, and their sponsors happier if they are candid about the fact that those within the beltway want your brains (or your soul), not your incites.

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

New Year's is a time for resolutions, a time for pledging to shed the bad habits of the previous year.  Goodness knows, the foreign policy community and public commentators who occasionally foray into international relations have accumulated a lot of bad habits over the past year.  Here's a list of nine memes, tropes, rhetorical tics, and baseless arguments that I'd like to see less of in 2011:

1)  [Fill in the blank] is an "existential threat".   This term of art has been on the rise for decades, but it seemed omnipresent this past year.  To be sure, lots of actors face a lot of threats out there in world politics.  The bar has to be pretty high, however, for something to be an "existential threat."   For my money, it means that the country or its modus operandi could be completely extinguished. 

Using this criteria, there are no existential threats to the United States in the international system.  In 2010, this term was increasingly used by Israelis with respect to Iran.  So, let's stipulate that if Iran were ever to acquire/develop, say, a dozen nuclear weapons, then the country would represent an existential threat to Israel.  Commentators who do this, however, would also need to stipulate that Israel, in possessing 60-85 warheads, has represented an existential threat to Iran for decades. 

2)  Iran or North Korea are "irrational" actors in world politics.  Look, it's a lot of blog fun to point out the absurdities of the Kims or Ahmadinejad -- I get that.  Claiming a country's leaders are "irrational" simply because they don't want the same things that you want doesn't make them irrational, however -- it just means that they have a different set of preferences.  The question to ask is whether these governments are pursuing their desired ends in a strategic, utility-maximizing manner.  Based on their behavior in 2010, I'd say the answer for both governments is yes.  So quit saying either Pyongyang or Tehran might be crazy enough to launch a pre-emptive nuclear strike for no reason.  Both regimes have really strong self-preservation instincts, however -- the "crazy man launching the bomb" contingency ain't gonna happen. 

Note that this doesn't make it any easier to bargain with these countries -- these might be zero-sum bargaining situations.  Eliminating the "irrationality" dimension, however, might make public debates about what to do a little more grounded. 

3)  Wikileaks is just like a newspaper:  No it isn't.  There's a lot of loose talk about how Wikileaks is really just like Bob Woodward or the New York Times in what it's doing.  And sure, Wikileaks' Israel Shamir bears more than a passing resemblance to the Times' Walter Duranty.  To my knowledge, neither Woodward nor the Times has threatened to publish documents in its possession as a blackmail device, or warn people to get their money out of a financial institution before something damaging is released.   

Wikileaks is an NGO with a quixotic leader who really doesn't like the U.S. government... which makes Wikileaks like a lot of other NGOs.  I think a lot of invective directed against the organization has been misplaced, and I agree with Gideon Rachman that Wikileaks has actually does the U.S. a favor.  That said, tt's not an ethical journalistic entity.

4)  Barack Obama does not really believe in American exceptionalism.  I've heard this from a lot of Republican wonks that should know better.  The meme emerged from an answer that Obama gave at a news conference in April 2009.  John Dickerson at Slate addressed this a few weeks ago:  

In the complete answer of nearly 300 words... it's clear that Obama is saying something more complex."We have a core set of values that are enshrined in our Constitution, in our body of law, in our democratic practices, in our belief in free speech and equality, that, though imperfect, are exceptional," he says. What makes this moment notable is not that the president nails it but that, in real time, without a carefully crafted set of talking points to guide him, he is trying to find the balance between singing the song of America and demonstrating before a foreign audience that he understands that America is not the only country in the world. 

5) Everything is the fault of American grand strategy.  I'm too tired to repeat my criticisms of this theme -- just click here, here, and here

6) Networks will end hierarchy as we know itArguments like this one tend to underestimate the ability of hierarchical organizations to evolve over time.  More importantly, networks can have plenty of hierarchy embedded within them

7)  Sarah Palin's views correspond to either American public opinion or the official policy of the U.S. government.  Um... no.  Palin has perfected the art of using a tweet or Facebook post to capture attention.  She's also perfected the art of declining poll numbers and increasing unfavorability ratings

Some commentators have blurred the distinction between Palin and the United States as a whole.  Let's be clear -- Sarah Palin is a private citizen with absolutely no official authority.  Using her as an example of how "America" or the "United States government" feels about an issue is disingenuous in the extreme.  When the Wall Street Journal editorial page sides with Michelle Obama over Sarah Palin, I think it's safe to say that the former Alaska governor has jumped the shark. 

8)  Because some international relations uses numbers, it's useless to foreign policymakers.  Click here and here -- really, there was a surprising amount of crap written about this topic this year, and it would be just peachy if it could stop.  

9)  2011 will be all about zombies.  Oh, wait... that one is true.   

OK, there's a lot of smack talk in this post.  So, in the interest of karma, readers are warily encouraged to suggest what my 2011 reslutions should be for the blog. 

[You meant warmly, right?--ed.  Uh.. sure.]

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Over at The Atlantic, Ta-Nehisi Coates talks about why he largely abstains from cable news appearances and why this is in and of itself a problem:

The outlines of the problem are becoming clear--I'm a snob. More seriously, it's my impression that much of cable news is rigged. Complicated questions are forced into small spaces of time, and guests frequently dissemble in order to score debate points and avoid being intellectually honest. Finally, many of the guests don't seem to be actual experts in the field of which they're addressing, so much as they're "strategists" or "analysts." I strongly suspect that part of the reason this is the case is talking on TV is, itself, a craft and one that requires a skill-set very different than what is required of academics. I'm sure many academics themselves share the disdain for the format that I've outlined. Finally, the handful of scholars who regularly appear on the talk shows, generally aren't of the sort that hold my interests.

With that said, it's very difficult to inveigh against these shows when you refuse to participate. The discomfiting fact is that cable news reaches a ton of people, many of whom--presuming they're interested--could use the information (emphasis added).

As an academic who is occasionally asked to be on TV/radio after the producer has gone through their top ten options, I have similarly mixed feelings about the skill mismatch. Speaking from my own experience, I find that my biggest weakness in these venues is that I genuinely want to answer the question asked of me.

You'd think this would be a good thing, but it's not, because it means that you're a hostage to the interviewer's ability to ask good questions. Usually if you're asked to be on a program, you know what the news hook is, and you should (obviously) know your overarching take on the issue. The problem, for me at least, is that no interviewer asks, "So what do you think?" Instead, they'll ask a more specific question -- which I then try to answer specifically. I've rarely been able to integrate a specific answer with the larger theme I want to stress in the appearance.

I suppose I could just admit my failings and abstain from these kinds of media appearances. One of my 2011 resolutions, however, is to try and get better at doing this sort of thing.

I'll have my list of proposed resolutions for the rest of the foreign-policy community tomorrow.

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

As the rest of the Foreign Policy gang hobnobs with the foreign policy glitterati tonight, I'm stuck in Boston mulling over the fact that Tom Friedman managed to earn a Bullock.

What is a Bullock? You might recall that earlier this year Sandra Bullock managed to win both an Academy Award for Best Actress (for The Blind Side) and a Golden Raspberry for Worst Actress  (for All About Steve) -- the first time that has ever happened. So a Bullock is when one manages to earn both a "best of" and "worst of" in the span of a single year.

Lo and behold, this week Friedman's name appears on both Foreign Policy's Top 100 Global Thinkers as well as Salon's Hack Thirty -- which is definitely the first time that's ever happened. What can we infer from Friedman earning the Bullock? I suppose this depends on who you ask and which mention you think is the more unjustified. Friedman is the certainly the most prominent international relations columnist working today. Your humble blogger has had his occasional issues with Friedman's columns. That said, even Friedman's harsher critics tend to acknowledge that he makes an interesting point every once in a while. And I've had to write enough 700 word columns in my life to know that it's a much harder task than most people realize.

In a perfect world, foreign affairs columnists would rotate in and out of the op-ed pages after 18 months or so. In the branding world in which we live, I can think of better options than Friedman, but man, I can think of a lot more aspirants who would be worse.

This goes back to my point about the opportunity cost of stupid ideas. Friedman is frequently wrong (as are we all), but he's usually wrong in a way that tends to requires serious engagement rather than a backhanded wrist-slap or easy put-down.

For comparison in terms of stupidity, consider Dan Shaughnessy's latest Boston Globe column in which he suggests that the Boston Red Sox sign Derek Jeter:

Suppose the Red Sox step up and shock the world? There is simply no downside to making Jeter a massive offer. In the worst-case scenario he calls your bluff and you get the Yankees captain.

I don't care if Jeter is way past his prime or if the Sox would have to wildly overpay a player of his diminished skills.

I say offer him the world. Forget about Jayson Werth. Blow Jeter away with dollars and years. At worst this would just mean the Sox would jack up the final price the Yankees must pay. It could be sort of like Mark Teixeira-in-reverse…

What's the harm in offering Jeter $20 million a year over three years? If you can pay J.D. Drew $14 million per year… if you can pay a Japanese team $50 million just for the right to speak with Daisuke Matsuzaka… if you can buy a futbol club for $476 million, why not spend $60 million to bust pinstripe chops for all the ages?

Jeter is closing in on 3,000 hits. Imagine if he gets his 3,000th hit as a Red Sox… at Fenway… against Mariano Rivera?

Since we are pretty certain Adrian Beltre is gone, the Red Sox have a big hole at third base. Jeter could play third. Or you could trade Marco Scutaro and put Jeter at short.

This certainly would make the Sox less boring.

This is bad even when grading on a Shaughnessy curve, which already sets the bar ridiculously low.

First, it's horribly written: in the span of three paragraphs, Shaughnessy manages to give two very different worst-case scenarios. Which is it, exactly?

Second, it's horribly argued. If Jeter is not going to move off of shortstop for the Yankees, why would he do it for the Red Sox? Smart baseball people will tell you that Jeter's recent numbers don't justify anyone paying him $20 million a year -- and no one but the Yankees should even pay him $15 million. If I'm the Red Sox, I would make a play for closer Mariano Rivera -- but why sign an aging shortstop when the Red Sox already have one decent veteran (Marco Scutaro) and two pretty promising younger shortstops (Jed Lowrie and Jose Iglesias)?

Shaughnessy thinks the merit of this option is to force the Yankees payroll up. OK, except that a few paragraphs down, he implies that the Red Sox budget is essentially unlimited. There's no world in which a) the sky is blue; and b) the Yankees have a more constrained budget than the Red Sox. Either there are opportunity costs in paying Jeter a lot of money (in which case the cost for the Sox is greater) or both franchises are so rich that money doesn't matter (in which case there's no point to starting a bidding war in the first place).

I've just wasted untold minutes and several neurons of brainpower to explain why Shaughnessy's column might be the stupidest sports column I've read this year. It's not even stupid in an interesting way -- it's just a brainless rant. Arguing when and why Tom Friedman is wrong doesn't feel like the same waste of time to me.

In other words, he deserves his Bullock.

Question to readers: if not Tom Friedman, who would you want to read on world politics on the New York Times op-ed page?

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Over the weekend Doug Schoen and Pat Caddell wrote a Washington Post op-ed suggesting that for the good of the country and the Democratic Party, Barack Obama should announce he won't seek re-election in 2012. My first response was that this was the dumbest op-ed I'd read in a decade, but upon further reflection... it's just the second-dumbest (I'd forgotten about this one). Even Barack Obama's harshest critics thought this was a foolhardy idea.

Slate's David Weigel doesn't go that far, merely labeling it "the worst column of the year." That said, he points out that regardless of its stupidity, a lot of people are talking about it. This suggests a serious flaw in the idea ecosystem:

A typical Post column may get a few hundred comments, a few hundred recommendations on Facebook. George Will's bitter I-told-you-so about the Chevy Volt, for example, has inspired around 700 "likes" on Facebook. Caddell and Schoen have inspired almost 5,000 "likes" and almost 2,000 comments (and counting), in what has become the paper's most-read piece of the day. Undoubtedly they've inspired some smaller number of TV producers to book "One and Done" segments, even though no one buys the Schoen/Caddell argument that Obama could achieve more by declaring himself a lame duck....

This is the paradox of the opinion industry: If it sounds stupid, it leads. If it's counterintuitive, it's surely because the columnist has found a fresh angle on a mundane problem, and this angle will produce insights. Data is unexciting, especially if it's the same data everyone else has. Discussions of fantasy scenarios that could prove your theories right? Exciting!

This is just as much of a problem in international politics as domestic politics. If there's a crisis somewhere, inevitably someone will suggest the use of force even if it's wildly inappropriate, and someone else will suggest that the United States just withdraw its influence completely and immediately, even if it's wildly impractical. If it's dumb, it goes on Page One! [Um....op-ed pages are in the back of newspapers, and everyone reads them online now anyway--ed. Hey, you get your fact-based arguments away from my imperfect rhyming scheme!]  I mean, in talking about how stupid Schoen and Caddell's argument is, I'm calling attention to Schoen and Caddell's argument. 

This was less of a problem in the bad old days, when powerful gatekeepers to the opinion industry weeded out the non-mainstream viewpoints. Of course, the best and the brightest of the mainstream had some galactically stupid ideas too. I'm not suggesting we return to that world -- it's neither possible nor desirable.

When it comes to policy debates I'm always on the side of John Stuart Mill -- the best way to deal with stupid arguments is to counter them with better arguments in the public sphere. That said, there's a serious cost to this philosophy in a world in which the stupid ideas can command the policy agenda. The opportunity cost to the inordinate amount of time that is spent swatting away these ideas is that less time is spent debating policies and ideas that have a real chance of being enacted. Furthermore, sometimes the dumbass idea just goes into hibernation among a few die-hard believers until a propitious moment arises for its zombie revival.

In the end, I think Mill still carries the day. Still, every once in a while, it sure would be nice not to have to waste the energy and the attention on stupid policy ideas.

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Foreign Policy's AfPak channel tweets the following query:

I don't understand why political science, as a discipline, rewards bad, unclear writing. Don't these journals have editors??

To the Blogmobile -- there's some explaining to do!! 

Let's get one thing straight.  The problem isn't just the political science discipline -- it's all academic disciplines.   Open up any academic journal and you're likely to be exposed to an overwhelming number of run-on sentences, obscurantist jargon, and  fancy Latin words displacing of good-old-fashioned, no-BS Anglo-Saxonisms.    

Nor is AfPak the only lamenter of this fact.  Via Rob Neyer, I see that Bill James, the godfather of sabermetrics, doesn't like it when academics talk all jargon-y. 

It modern America it is the accepted practice for experts in each field to develop their own language, their own expressions and reference points, and to write to one another in professional jargon almost indecipherable to the public.

I feel very strongly that this is a mistake. I have felt this way for 40 years; I have argued against this for 40 years, and I've never made any headway, but that's still what I think and that's still what I argue. People complain about anti-intellectuatlism in American life. I live in an academic community; many of my friends are academics. They complain frequently about the lack of respect for intellectuals in the mainstream debate, about the difficulty in getting the public to accept science and to accept the knowledge that experts in the field generate -- yet they insist on speaking and writing in ways that the public cannot understand. Well, duh. If you write in a way that excludes the general public from reading what you are saying, the general public will not accept your conclusions.

To use academic jargon is rude, lazy, elitist, and counter-productive. It diminishes the influence of the academic world; it diminishes the influence of thinking people on the general debate. If you want people to accept your ideas, you have to speak in language that others can understand. This is common sense, and it is common courtesy.

As someone who has a Bill James bobblehead in his home, I take this kind of critique seriously -- far motre seriously than, say, Charles Murray's blatherings about academic elites.  The problem is that I'm not sure it's right. 

First of all, a lot of jargon exists for a good reason.  All disciplines, professions, and careers have their own specialzed argot that's used as a way to economize on communication.  If I use the phrases "two-level game," "credible commitment," "moral hazard," or "beggar-thy-neighbor" to people in my profession, they're going to know what I'm talking/writing about without me having to spend paragraphs explaining the point. 

For example, if I say,

we're approaching a CreditAnstalt moment in the global political economy

to a bunch of international political economy scholars, they get it.  To the rest of the world, I'd have to write: 

In the near future we could face a financial crisis when in which foreign economic policy leaders prioritize nationalism and geopolitics above preservaing the integrity of the global financial system.  Since the CreditAnstalt crisis played a leading role in making the Great Depression the ten-year agony of mass unemployment, poverty, famine and despotism that we remember today, this would really suck.  

Yes, jargon is a time-saver. 

Now, it could be argued that academics should be smart enough to use jargon when speaking with each other and use plain English when speaking to, you know, outworlders anyone outside their field. 

There is a big problem with this solution, however.  Most academics spend most of their time writing, responding and talking to other academics.  They already know the jargon, so there's no reason to drop it.  [Um... what about the students?--ed.  One could argue that an awful lot of instruction is teaching students the concepts behind the jargon, so that doesn't count.] 

If you spend 90% of your day using one kind of language, it's actually pretty hard to switch conversational styles to engage the outworlders rest of the public.  As Paul Krugman wrote some many moons ago

I hope you think that I am an acceptable writer, but when it comes to economics I speak English as a second language: I think in equations and diagrams, then translate. The opponents of mainstream economics dislike people like me not so much for our conclusions as for our style: They want economics to be what it once was, a field that was comfortable for the basically literary intellectual.

This goes for most of the social science disciplines. 

I grant that the failure to communicate to the rest of the world is a flaw of many academics.  What it's not, however, is inefficient.  If we're writing for political science journals, then the audience is other political scientists (and these journals, my dear AfPak, are edited by other political scientists as well).  They already know the jargon.  By using professional argot, political scientists -- and academics in general -- are able to write and communicate with each other more quickly and efficiently than by using ordinary plain language. 

My non-academic readers might claim that this is absurd, preposterous, and a particular failing of the academy.  Maybe, but I don't think so.  Bill James' original complaint was levied against baseball stat geeks.  Journalists and editors throw about "lede," "graf" and "TK"  without even thinking about it.  All occupations and organizations have their own forms of shorthand that sounds like jibberish to the outsider.  No one would accuse most members of the military as being obscurantist, but go to an Army staff meeting and try to decipher the glut of acronyms that fly around like so much schrapnel. 

Is that the only reason for bad political science writing?  Probably not.  We get rewarded for coming up with new jargon like "Bradley effect" or "Stackelberg leader" or "bandwagoning" that catches on.  And, yes, there are scholars who write in a deliberately confusing manner because their ideas ain't all that coherent.  As a regular reader of political science journals, however, I'm pretty sure these are the exception rather than the rule.  I'm so inured to the jargon that I can read these papers without conscious translation. 

Some political scientists (ahem, cough) do try to write for a wider audience.  Some political science journals like Perspectives on Politics are intended for a wider audience.  But the bulk of political science publications are intended for other political scientists -- and there's little upside to eliminating jargon if that's how everyone in every field communicates.

So this is my very long-winded answer to AfPak.  Whereas if I was using jargon, all I'd have said was:

The specialization of knowledge leads actors to reduce the transacton costs of communication with each other.  Naturally, this phenomenon creates a barrier to entry for outside consumers, while instilling a common identity among specialists. 

Am I missing anything?

UPDATE:  Yes, I did miss something.  FP editor extraordinaire Blake Hounshell tweets

[B]ut jargon is only one aspect of bad academic writing. There's also the passive voice, nominalizations, bland verbs, etc.

Oy. 

There's no way I'm going to be able to offer a single explanation for bad academic writing beyond the jargonese.  That said, I'll suggest that many of the tropes that editors don't like about academic writing are actually an effort at hedging.  The classic academic answer to whether something will happen is, "It depends."  In academic journals, political scientists can articulate all of the qualifications, exceptions, and emendations that come with their central argument. 

This hedging instinct makes it very tricky to convert a scholarly article into something more accessible to the general interest reader.  Editors everywhere want the writer to get to the point with clear, forceful prose.  Academics are a bit leery of the declarative statements that get editors all hot and bothered -- because the simple direct statement is often far more sweeping in scope than the academic's original argument.  This is a natural tension, and one that breeds resentment on both sides. 

I'm just here to play peacekeeper.  [Me too!!--ed.]

I confess that I haven't yet read all of Robin Marantz Henig's 8,000 word New York Times Magazine essay on the extended adolescence of twentysomethings because I have a life I need to clip my toenails I don't care oh, OK, I care a little but I'm too inured to generational politics to read 8,000 words on it of a variety of reasons. Instead, I've been reading (and enjoying) Peter Beinart's The Icarus Syndrome:  A History of American Hubris [Hey, what the hell happened to your late summer reading list?--ed. I've read some of them, but since I've long ago left my twenties, I've determined that I'm allowed to discard any leisure book that does hold my interest after thirty pages.]

Henig's essay and Beinart's book are linked in that they both are talking about generational cohorts and how their experiences affect their thinking going forward. The Icarus Syndrome follows multiple generations of foreiogn policy thinkers who were seared by formative experiences (mostly wars) and how their initial enthusiasms and/or mistakes colored their foreign policy views going forward. 

I bring this up because I wonder whether the current generation of millennial twentysomethings will develop a worldview about international relations that transcends party and clique. If that happened, it would profoundly shape the contours of American foreign policy starting next decade. 

As I think about it, here are the Millennials' foundational foreign policy experiences: 

1)  An early childhood of peace and prosperity -- a.k.a., the Nineties;

2)  The September 11th attacks;

3)  Two Very Long Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq;

4)  One Financial Panic/Great Recession;

5)  The ascent of China under the shadow of U.S. hegemony. 

From these experiences, I would have to conclude that this generation should be anti-interventionist to the point of isolationism. Then again, I'm looking at this through my own irony-drenched Gen-X eyes. 

I'm curious to hear from twentysomethings in the comments -- what are the foreign policy lessons that you can draw from your upbringing? I'm also curious what lessons twentysomethings in other countries can draw from their own formative experiences.  

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Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Ezra Klein made an interesting observation a few days ago about how opinion journalists read papers by experts:

[T]his is one of the difficulties with analysis. Fairly few political commentators know enough to decide which research papers are methodologically convincing and which aren't. So we often end up touting the papers that sound right, and the papers that sound right are, unsurprisingly, the ones that accord most closely with our view of the world.

To which Will Wilkinson said "Amen": 

This is one of the reasons I tend not to blog as much I’d like about a lot of debates in economic policy. I just don’t know who to trust, and I don’t trust myself enough to not just tout work that confirms my biases. This is also why I tend to worry a lot about methodology in my policy papers. How much can we trust happiness surveys? How exactly is inequality measured? How exactly is inflation measured? Does standard practice bias standard measurements in a particular direction? Of course, the motive to dig deeper is often suspicion of research you feel can’t really be right. But this is, I believe, an honorable motive, as long as one digs honestly. Indeed, I’m pretty sure motivated cognition, when constrained by sound epistemic norms, is one of the mainsprings of intellectual progress.

One way to weigh competing research papers is to consider the publishing outlet.  Presumably, peer-reviewed articles will carry greater weight.  Except that Megan McArdle doesn't presume:

Especially for papers that rely on empirical work with painstakingly assembled datasets, the only way for peer reviewers to do the kind of thorough vetting that many commentators seem to imagine is implied by the words "peer review" would be to . . . well, go back and re-do the whole thing.  Obviously, this is not what happens.  Peer reviewers check for obvious anomalies, originality, and broad methodological weakness.  They don't replicate the work themselves.  Which means that there is immense space for things to go wrong--intentionally or not....

This is not to say that the peer review system is worthless.  But it's limited.  Peer review doesn't prove that a paper is right; it doesn't even prove that the paper is any good (and it may serve as a gatekeeper that shuts out good, correct papers that don't sit well with the field's current establishment for one reason or another).  All it proves is that the paper has passed the most basic hurdles required to get published--that it be potentially interesting, and not obviously false.  This may commend it to our attention--but not to our instant belief.

This jibes with a recent Chonicle of Higher Education essay that bemoaned the explosion of research articles: 

While brilliant and progressive research continues apace here and there, the amount of redundant, inconsequential, and outright poor research has swelled in recent decades, filling countless pages in journals and monographs. Consider this tally from Science two decades ago: Only 45 percent of the articles published in the 4,500 top scientific journals were cited within the first five years after publication. In recent years, the figure seems to have dropped further. In a 2009 article in Online Information Review, Péter Jacsó found that 40.6 percent of the articles published in the top science and social-science journals (the figures do not include the humanities) were cited in the period 2002 to 2006.

None of this provides much comfort for the layman interested in navigating through the miasma of contradictory research papers.  How can the amateur policy wonk separate the wheat from the chaff? 

Below are seven useful rules of thumb to provide you.  These are not foolproof -- in fact, that's one of the rules -- but they can provide some useful filtering while trying to discern good research from not-so-good research: 

1)  If you can't read the abstract, don't bother with the paper.  Most smart people, including academics, don't like to admit when they don't understand something that they read.  This provides an opening for those who purposefully write obscurant or jargon-filled papers.  If you're befuddled after reading the paper abstract, don't bother with the paper -- a poorly-worded abstract is the first sign of bad writing.  And bad academic writing is commonly linked to bad analytic reasoning. 

2)  It's not the publication, it's the citation count.  If you're trying to determine the relative importance of a paper, enter it into Google Scholar and check out the citation count.  The more a paper is cited, the greater its weight among those in the know.  Now, this doesn't always hold -- sometimes a paper is cited along the lines of, "My findings clearly demonstrate that Drezner's (2007) argument was, like, total horses**t."   Still, for papers that are more than a few years old, the citaion hit count is a useful metric.

3)  Yes, peer review is better.   Nothing Megan McArdle wrote is incorrect.  That said, peer review does provide some useful functions, so the reader doesn't have to.  If nothing else, it's a useful signal that the author thought it could pass muster with critical colleagues.  Now, there are times when a researcher will  bypass peer review to get something published sooner.  That said, in international relations, scholars who publish in non-refereed journals usually have a version of the paper intended for peer review. 

4)  Do you see a strawman?  It's a causally complex world out there.  Any researcher who doesn't test an argument against viable alternatives isn't really interested in whether he's right or not -- he just wants to back up his gut instincts.  A "strawman" is when an author takes the most extreme caricature of the opposing argument as the viable alternative.  If the rival arguments sound absurd when you read about them in the paper, it's probably because the author has no interest in presenting the sane version of them.  Which means you can ignore the paper. 

5)  Are the author's conclusions the only possible conclusions to draw?  Sometimes a paper can rest on solid theory and evidence, but then jump to policy conclusions that seem a bit of a stretch (click here for one example).  If you can reason out different policy conclusions from the theory and data, then don't take the author's conclusions at face value.  To use some jargon, sometimes a paper's positivist conclusions are sound, even if the normative conclusions derived from the positive ones are a bit wobbly.  

6)  Can you falsify the author's argument?    Conduct this exercise when you're done reading a research paper -- can you picture the findings that would force the author to say, "you know what, I can't explain this away -- it turns out my hypothesis was wrong"?  If you can't picture that, then you can discard what you're reading a a piece of agitprop rather than a piece of research. 

7)  Fraudulent papers will still get through the cracks.  Trust is a public good that permeates all scholarship and reportage.  Peer reviewers assume that the author is not making up the data or plagiarizing someone else's idea.  We assume this because if we didn't, peer review would be virtually impossible.  Every once in a while, an unethical author or a reporter will exploit that trust and publish something that's a load of crap.  The good news on this front is that the people who do can't stop themselves from doing it on a regular basis, and eventually they make a mistake.  So the previous rules of thumb don't always work.  The  publishing system is imperfect -- but "imperfect" does not mean the same thing as "fatally flawed." 

With those rules of thumb, go forth and read your research papers. 

Other useful rules of thumb are encouraged in the comments. 

Sean Gallup/Getty Images

Two recent articles suggest that things in the ivory tower are really going downhill.  In the Boston Globe, Keith O'Brien notes that students aren't studying like they use to

It is a fundamental part of college education: the idea that young people don’t just learn from lectures, but on their own, holed up in the library with books and, perhaps, a trusty yellow highlighter. But new research, conducted by two California economics professors, shows that over the past five decades, the number of hours that the average college student studies each week has been steadily dropping. According to time-use surveys analyzed by professors Philip Babcock, at the University of California Santa Barbara, and Mindy Marks, at the University of California Riverside, the average student at a four-year college in 1961 studied about 24 hours a week. Today’s average student hits the books for just 14 hours.

Meanwhile, as Steve Walt noted, there's a new article by Lawrence Mead in the latest issue of Perspectives on Politics on "Scholasticism in Political Science."  (Full discosure:  I'm on the editorial board at PoP).  Mead argues that political scientists, "often address very narrow questions, and they are often preoccupied with method and past literature."  He demonstrates this by looking at the evolution of the American Political Science Review over the past few decades.  He ends with a plea for "political scientists to seek greater engagement with government" and for journalm editors to "shift research somewhat away from rigor and towards relevance." 

When I see essays and arguments claiming that things are going to hell in a handbasket in the academy, I get very leery.  I've heard this script before -- academics have been complaining about the decline of the academy since the days of Socrates. 

Sure enough, looking a bit deeper at both essays, it's not clear whether things are really so bad.  Deeper in O'Brien's article, for example, there's this small nugget of information: 

[T]he greatest decline in student studying took place before computers swept through colleges: Between 1961 and 1981, study times fell from 24.4 to 16.8 hours per week (and then, ultimately, to 14).

If the really big drop took place before 1981, then I'm not sure I buy the argument that things are worse now.  As the article notes, technological innovations like computers and the Internet have made students more productive with the time they do devote to studying. 

As for Mead's essay, well, again, there's less there than meets the eye.  His own data suggests two trends that somewhat blunt his initial argument.  First, one reason for greater specialization in political science nowadays is that there are just a lot more political scientists lying about in the profession.  Now I'm not a political theorist, but I vaguely recall someone somewhere saying that "the division of labor is limited by the extent of the market."  Mead wants political scientists to write for a broader audience -- a sentiment I partially share.  I'd like to see political scientists write both big and small, specific and general.  With more political scientists, it is possible to write more narrow, detailed work and actually have it read by an informed audience.  That ain't being a public intellectual, but it ain't nothing, either. 

More importantly, Mead's own data also suggests that this "scholasticism" trend peaked a decade ago and has been ebbing ever since.  The APSR data shows that after 1998 or so, more general and more empirical articles were published.  There are a lot of possible explanations for this contrary trend (shifts in the APSR editorship, the perestroika movement, the rise of poli sci blogs), but none of them are terribly persuasive.  Maybe, just maybe, things are naturally getting better. 

Shorter blog post:  the academy is not going to hell in a handbasket. 

UPDATE:  One last observation and link.  Mead argues: 

Anyone who has attended recent APSA conferences knows that the “audience” for many panels, even on the official program, is now no more than the panelists themselves.

Mayb e I'm going to different panels, but I honestly don't see this, either for panels I attend or for panels where I present.  And zombies aside, I don't pick particularly "sexy" topics to write or listen to either.  

On the other hand, Seth Masket's proposal for reforming APSA conference panels is officially the Most Awesome Idea Ever

Ian Waldie/Getty Images

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

There's been a raging debate the past few weeks over whether conservatives suffer from what Julian Sanchez labeled "epistemic closure."  If conservatives get their information and opinion only by listening to other conservatives, the argument runs, they will be unprepared and unconcerned about criticisms from outside their intellectual cocoon. 

The blogosphere has been having a grand old time with this debate, and whether the problem afflicts conservatives more than liberals (click here for Patricia Cohen's roundup in today's New York Times).  Paul Krugman goes so far as to argue that this problem has clearly affected macroeconomics in freshwater schools. 

This leads me to wonder if the problem affects the GOP wing of the foreign policy community.  And as much as David Frum might argue for greater internal debate within the GOP on the political facts of life, for example, he was never shy in attacking the realpolitik wing of the Republican foreign policy establishment (more here). 

A few years ago I implicitly made this kind of critique when it came to neoconservatives.  That saids, my gut instinct on this is that the epistemic closure problem is not nearly as big a deal in foreign policy circles as it is in domestic policy circles.  That is to say, conservative foreign policy wonks do collect their information from a diverse array of sources.  They might not agree with every scrap of information about a particular issue, but they usually acknowledge its existence.  A quick glance at FP's own Shadow Government tells me that even if I disagree with these bloggers on policy recommendations, I still think we're operating in the same epistemic universe. 

I'll get to why I think this is true later, but for now, I'm curious if my experience corresponds to my readers.  So, a genuinely open question -- is there an epistemic closure problem among the conservative foreign policy community? 

Frazer Harrison/Getty Images

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Your humble blogger has occasionally been asked to give speeches and/or presentations at other campuses.  Most of the time this comes with an economy-class air ticket and a very modest honorarium.  After reading Sarah Palin's standard speaking contract*, however, I realize I have been far too modest in my demands.  So, from now on, any university that wants to bring me out needs to meet the following criteria: 

1)  The host is responsible for providing a first-class airline ticket between Boston and the event city.  The host is further responsible for ensuring that Courtney Love is seated next to me so I can have her thrown off the plane.  If neither a first-class airline ticket nor Ms. Love is available, Wonder Woman's invisible jet will suffice -- but only if Wonder Woman herself is piloting the craft. 

2)  The host is also responsible for travel within the event city.  The host will provide a jetpack, a Batmobile, or that Aston-Martin DB5 with the ejector seat for local travel.  No giant ants -- so not cool. 

3)  The host will make sure that the following items are available backstage at his speaking engagement: 

1 six-pack of Diet Coke 

1 jar of Ba-Tampte Half-Sour Pickles

6 boxes of frozen Thin Mints

1 bullwhip

1 light saber

1 complete edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.  None of those condensed/abridged versions, either  -- it's the whole smash or nothing.

4)  Twenty minutes before the speaker's talk, the host will ensure a student walks out to the podium, wearing an incredible sexy ballroom gown, and reads Book One of Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian WarNote:  the gender of the student doesn't matter, but that ballroom gown had better be damn sexy.   

5)  The host shall ensure that the following is located on the speakers' podium:

1 bottle of water

1 bag of Funyuns 

1 t-shirt launcher -- those things really do look like they're a lot of fun.

6)  The host shall ensure a moderator asks all of the questions from the audience.  The host shall further ensure that the moderator only asks these questions after inhaling lots of helium.

7)  At the end of the talk, the host shall ensure that this music is played as the speaker leaves the building. 

8)  Under no circumstances is Jay Leno to precede or follow the speaker. 

Readers are encouraged to list their own demands  to be a speaker in the comments. 

*Which, while perhaps at odds with her populism, don't seem all that strange given the surging demand for her services at the moment

Darren McCollester/Getty Images

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

How does your humble blogger engage in debate when he's still coasting on his vacation tan?  Now's the opprtunity to view this natural experiment in the latest bloggingheads diavlog.  Henry Farrell and I debate the foreign policy effects of health care, the U.S.-Israel relationship, the Frumble in the Jungle, the abuse scandals in the Catholic church, and what the hell is happening in the European Union.

 Enjoy!!

[Um... what does Mel Brooks have to do with this?--ed.  Henry said something when we were talking about the Catholic church scandals that reminded me of this.] 

Thomas Sowell has a new book out called Intellectuals and Society (here's a precis from his National Review essay on the topic from January). It sounds like a remix of Mark Lilla's The Reckless Mind: Intellectuals in Politics, mixed with Hayek's "The Intellectuals and Socialism."  Those are pretty good source materials. And as someone who occasionally writes about this topic, I'm always intrigued by new arguments on this topic.

Sowell recently gave an interview to Investor's Business Daily that's worth excerpting, however:

IBD: How do you define intellectuals?

Sowell: I define intellectuals as persons whose occupations begin and end with ideas. I distinguish between intellectuals and other people who may have ideas but whose ideas end up producing some good or service, something that whether it's working or not working can be determined by third parties.

With intellectuals, one of the crucial factors is their work is largely judged by peer consensus, so it doesn't matter if their ideas work in the real world.

IBD: What incentives and constraints do intellectuals face?

Sowell: One of the incentives is that, to the extent that intellectuals stay in their specialty, they have little to gain in terms of either prestige or influence on events. Say, an authority in ancient Mayan civilization just writes about ancient Mayan civilization, then only other specialists in ancient Mayan civilization will know what he is talking about or even be aware of him.

So intellectuals have every incentive to go beyond their area of expertise and competence. But stepping beyond your area of competence is like stepping off a cliff — you may be a genius within that area, but an idiot outside it.

As far as the constraints, since their main constraint is peer consensus — that's a very weak constraint on the profession as a whole. Because what the peers believe as a group becomes the test of any new idea that comes along as to whether it's plausible or not.

I'm pretty sure that Sowell's answers contradict each other. If the primary means through which intellectuals assess their value is through peer assessment, then why is peer assessment such a weak constraint on intellectual activity?

Methinks Sowell is underestimating both the power of academic culture and the ways in which the marketplace of ideas has become more competitive. But this is certainly good fodder for debate.

What really caught my eye, however, was this section:

IBD: You say that intellectuals during Hitler's rise subordinated the mundane specifics of the nature of the German government to abstract principles about abstract nations, by which you meant the idea espoused at the time that "nations should be equal" and thus Germany had a right to rearm. Does that description apply to the Obama administration's approach to Iran?

Sowell: I hadn't thought of it, but it certainly does. In fact, there are other people who have said, "Some countries have nuclear weapons, why shouldn't other countries have nuclear weapons?" And they say it with an utter disregard for the nature of the countries and what those countries have been demonstrably doing for years and show every intention of doing in the future.

IBD: Do you think also that the Obama administration has abstract notions that you can negotiate with Iran the same way you can negotiate with, say, Australia?

Sowell: Oh, yes. And the question is not whether you should negotiate. We negotiate with all kinds of countries. The question is whether we think negotiations will be at all effective in carrying out what we want to do.

Give Sowell credit -- it's clear that he really hasn't thought about the question. Anyone who has paid any attention to the Obama administraion's Iran policy would be hard-pressed to characterize it as tolerant of Iran's right to arm itself with nuclear weapons. As Robert Kagan recently pointed out in FP:

Republicans may complain, along with many Democrats, that the administration has been too slow to support the Iranian opposition and took too long to pivot to sanctions. Yet some also realize that Obama's prolonged effort at engagement accomplished what George W. Bush never could: convincing most of the world, and most Democrats, that Iran is uninterested in any deal that threatens its nuclear weapons program. As a result, France, Britain, and even Germany appear more determined than at any time in the past decade to impose meaningful sanctions. A majority of Republicans, along with most Democrats, will support the administration as it toughens its approach to what Secretary of State Hillary Clinton now calls the "military dictatorship" in Tehran.

In other words, the Obama administration's actual policy towards Iran bears no resemblance whatsoever to Sowell's characterization of it.

One should not be completely surprised by this; Sowell is an economist by training and should not be expected to know much about American foreign policy, as it's beyond his area of expertise. I do find it a little rich, however, that Sowell has written a book complaining about what happens when intellectuals leave their knowledge reservation to opine about events of the day -- and then proceeds to commit that precise sin during his book promotion.

There are two possibilities here. Either Sowell has no capacity for irony, or he's cleverly trying to add data points to support his argument.

Over at Aid Watch, William Easterly tries to turn the Tiger Woods imbroglio into a teachable moment about development economics.  No, really: 

What Tiger considerately did for our education was to show how the Halo Effect is a myth....

So if we observe a country is good at say, technological innovation, we assume that this country is also good at other good things like, say, visionary leadership, freedom from corruption, and a culture of trust. Since the latter three are imprecise to measure (and the measures themselves may be contaminated by the Halo Effect), we lazily assume they are all good. But actually, there are plenty of examples of successful innovators with mediocre leaders, corruption, and distrustful populations. The US assumed world technological leadership in the late 19th century with presidents named Chester Arthur and Rutherford B. Hayes, amidst legendary post-Civil War graft. Innovators include both trusting Danes and suspicious Frenchmen.

The false Halo Effect makes us think we understand development more than we really do, when we think all good things go together in the “good” outcomes. The “Halo Effect”  puts heavy weight on some explanations like “visionary leadership” that may be spurious. More subtly, it leaves out the more complicated cases of UNEVEN determinants of success: why is New York City the world’s premier city, when we can’t even manage decent airports (with 3 separate failed tries)?

The idea that EVERYTHING is a necessary condition for development is too facile.  The principles of specialization and comparative advantage suggest you DON”T have to be good at everything all the time. 

Hmmm...... maybe. 

Really, I get Easterly's point -- not everything is a necessary condition for economic development.  Still, as I read this, my mind kept drifting back to a gem of an article William Baumol wrote called, "Entrepreneurship:  Productive, Unproductive and Destructive."   It's gist: 

The basic hypothesis is that, while the total supply of entrepreneurs varies among societies, the productive contribution of the society's entrepreneurial activities varies much more because of their allocation between productive activities, such as innovation, and largely unproductive activities, such as rent seeking or organized crime. This allocation is heavily influenced by the relative payoffs society offers to such activities. This implies that policy can influence the allocation of entrepreneurship more effectively than it can influence its supply.

Not everything is a necessary condition for development.  But some things are VERY IMPORTANT necessary conditions.  Without them, a country's natural endowments get used in very, very perverse ways.  It is entirely possible to have an innovative society in a corrupt state, for example -- but the question is, how does a corrupt public sector skew the incentives of entrepreneurs and inventors? 

I don't think Easterly is completely wrong in his point about the Halo Effect -- but I don't think he's completely right, either. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

This is an interesting press release

In response to the policy challenges presented by the economic crisis and the need to develop fresh approaches to economic theory, a group of top academics, policy-makers, and private sector leaders today announced the creation of the Institute for New Economic Thinking (INET)....

The Institute was established with a pledge of $5 million per year for 10 years from Open Society Institute Chairman George Soros, a long-time critic of classical economic theory, who will fund the effort through the Central European University (CEU).

The Institute will make research grants, convene symposia, and establish a journal. A first conference will be at King's College, Cambridge on April 9-11. Scholars will explore the implications of the financial crisis for regulatory policy. The first round of research grants will be made before the end of the year to cutting-edge scholars working with leading universities around the world. INET’s Executive Director will be Robert Johnson, an economist with long experience in government, academia, and the private sector....

Speaking in Budapest at the CEU, through which INET will be funded and which will be a hub of the INET network, Soros said, “The entire edifice of global financial markets has been erected on the false premise that markets can be left to their own devices, we must find a new paradigm and rebuild from the ground up. I decided to sponsor INET to facilitate the process. I hope others will join me.” Because he is both an INET benefactor and proponent of a particular theory, Reflexivity, Soros will recuse himself from the grant-making process.  “While I hope reflexivity will be one of the concepts examined, there are numerous alternatives to the prevailing dogma that must be explored.” Soros added. 

Based on his track record, Soros is not very good at influencing political movements, but he is quite good at influencing the world of ideas.  So, it's quite possible that this new institute will wean economists from the neoclassical paradigm. 

Over at Newsweek, Michael Hirsch certainly thinks this is important

It might be tempting to dismiss all this as a war of words among brainiacs. It's not. The critical issues being discussed in Washington about the future regulation and control of the financial industry—the very nature of Wall Street and the health of the economy—depend on this battle of ideas. What led to wholesale deregulation in the '90s and '00s wasn't just Wall Street lobbying money. It was also that key legislators and policymakers, among them Larry Summers, persuaded themselves that deregulation was sound economics and good policy, and that markets and Wall Street institutions could take care of themselves. Many of those views have been discredited by the crisis. But in the absence of a new paradigm of economics, confusion still reigns in Washington. With no new concept of the proper role of government and regulation in the economy, of the proper balance between the markets and their minders, the old school still dominates.

Similarly, Veronique de Rugy is freaked out by this Soros initiative, which suggests it might actually matter.   

I think Hirsch is correct about the persistence of market-friendly ideas contained in Washington Consensus.  Let's call this the zombie Washington Consensus, because it keeps moving on even after suffering politically fatal blows. 

That said, real shifts in ideas only take place when one dominant idea is replaced by another dominant idea that has both intellectual and political cachet.  Looking at Soros' Board of Advisors, I'm not sure there is a consensus about what paradigm should replace a free market approach. 

Hopefully, this institute will lead to a mess of heterodox work that forces everyone to bring their "A" game to the problems at hand -- includind free market enthusiasts.  The worst-case scenario is that George Soros is funding the economic equivalent of Ross Perot's Reform Party.    

Developing....

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

When someone publishes an op-ed, longer essay, or book, they have to write a tagline.  It's usually two sentences describing their title and affiliation, and whatever big projects are associated with them. 

After watching the preview for The Invention of Lying, however, I began to wonder what these tag lines would look like if they were brutally honest.  With a nod to Megan Mcardle's "Full Disclosure" post from a few years ago, here's fifteen examples I came up with: 

  • Jack Silver is a fellow at the Institute for Strategic Studies.  He has been Henry Kissinger's bitch for something like three decades, so when Henry passed on writing something for us, he was the next logical choice.     

 

  • Suzie Wong has never been to the country about which she is writing.  What's in this op-ed is culled from a quick perusal of the Economist and a few phone calls.     

 

  • Cass Bunstein is a law professor.  He dashed off this essay in his head while commuting to work this morning, wrote it in under thirty minutes, and it's still smarter than anything, my dear reader, that will ever pop into your brain. 

 

  • Augustine Cornington has been teaching at an obscure state school for two decades, lying in the tall grass, waiting for her archnemesis to make a mistake in print.  This book review is her chance to completely eviscerate him. 

 

  • Joe Schlub Jr. is a law professor.  This essay is a badly mangled version of an interesting idea he heard Cass Bunstein riff on at a cocktail party last week. 

 

  • Andrew McClutchen is a former governor.  He hopes that this op-ed is the first step in getting beyond that horrible sex scandal from a few years ago. 

 

  • Madeleine McFadden is a former cabinet secretary, and did not write a single word of this policy essay.  It is possible she read the first few paragraphs of it, but that's being really optimistic.

 

  • Jane Babbington has no extraordinary policy expertise.  She does have an awesome book jacket photo, however, and will have better hair and skin than you do until the day she dies.  

 

  • Lou Marston is a very smart professor at Princeton University.  This op-ed is woefully underplaced because he took his own sweet time writing it, and this issue is from last week's news cycle.  

 

  • Robert Knaus lost the capacity to write long-form essays years ago - what you just read is what an intern scraped together from one year's worth of Twitter tweets. 

 

  • Ann Stoneham is the foremost expert on this topic, and cannot write her way out of a paper bag.  Her uber-competent editor busted her ass for the last 48 hours to try and convert this essay into semi-readable prose

 

  • Gwen Pollard is an area expert at a prominent DC think tank.  She fervently hopes that everyone has forgotten how completely wrong she was about this topic just five short years ago.

 

  • C. Thomas Pope is a professor at the University of Chicago, and his worldview hardened into an inpenetrable black mass the day he turned twenty-four.  As no amount of contradictory evidence will cause him to change his mind, he is perfectly willing to make absurd, idiotic statements without worrying that he is wrong. 

 

  • Richard Jensen is a professor at Harvard University.  He has the Mother of All Balloon Payments due on his mortgage next year, so any extra income helps. 

And, of course.....

  • Daniel Drezner is a professor at Tufts University, and is publishing the fifth version of exact same idea with this essay.  Seriously, the man would be nothing without the cut and paste function.

Readers are warmly welcomed to come up with their own brutally honest tag lines in the comments. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

As your humble blogger has aged matured, he finds himself invited to more shindigs that are logistically impossible for him to attend [He also has started referring to himself in the third person -- what's up with that?--ed.  Oh, stuff it.] 

This occasionally gnaws atmy psyche, because missing high-falutin' conferences preys on the same insecurity I have possessed since my grad school days -- that somewhere, at this very moment, there is an awesome, interesting conference going on, and I wasn't invited. 

Fortunately, Slate's Jack Shafer makes me feel better about not attending The Atlantic's "First Draft of History" conference.  Whenever I get one of these invites in the future, I'm going to have to re-read this paragraph: 

I've got just three questions about "conferences" like these: Why, why, why? Other than hustling a little cash for the good cause that is the Atlantic magazine, what purpose do they serve? No, certifying members of the power elite does not qualify as a good cause. Will Gen. Petraeus make history by disclosing that he regrets the surge plan? Will David Axelrod volunteer that the Obama administration is a mess? Will Vikram Pandit fall to his knees and confess that the crash of 2008 was all his fault and beg to be shot? Not a chance. The participants will regift the presents they've given away dozens of times before, and the by-invitation-only audience will tear into the packages as if it's their ultimate Christmas.

According to the Associated Press, Russian President Dmitri Medvedev wants to get outside of the DC beltway in his next trip to the USA: 

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev says he would like to meet with "dissidents" when he visits the U.S. next week.

Russian news agencies quote him as telling a group of visiting foreign experts that "I believe there are dissidents in the United States."

ITAR-Tass quotes him as saying: "Let them tell me what problems the United States has. That won't be bad, considering the Soviet experience."

I think that this is a fantastic idea, when one considers the potential pool of dissidents.  Fortunately, Andy Heil has come up with a list of possibile dissidents at RFERL's Transmissions blog.  His list:

  1. Noam Chomsky
  2. Rush Limbaugh
  3. Michael Moore
  4. Kanye West
  5. Sarah Palin
  6. Jeremiah Wright
  7. Gus Hall
  8. Sean Penn
  9. Chirstopher Hitchens
  10. Eric Cartman

This is an excellent start, but I think we can add a few names to the old dissident list.  Let me think.... who else is railing against the System these days?

  1. Glenn Beck
  2. U.S. Representative Ron Paul
  3. Glenn Greenwald
  4. Dick Cheney
  5. Serena Williams
  6. U.S. Representative Dennis Kucinich
  7. Jimmy Carter
  8. U.S. Representative Joe Wilson
  9. Terrell Owens
  10. Beyonce (OK, technically, she's not railing against the system -- but as much of a jackass as he might have been, Kanye was right:  this is the most awesome video ever.  She was robbed, and I blame The Man). 

I'm just trying to imagine Medvedev meeting this crew. 

Commenters are encouraged to suggest additional names in the comments.

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Matt Yglesias linked to this months-old Emily Stokes profile of Rory Stewart in the Financial Times.  Yglesias highlights one of the funnier metaphors I've seen about the trouble with advising policymakers:   

“It’s like they’re coming in and saying to you, ‘I’m going to drive my car off a cliff. Should I or should I not wear a seatbelt?’ And you say, ‘I don’t think you should drive your car off the cliff.’ And they say, ‘No, no, that bit’s already been decided – the question is whether to wear a seatbelt.’ And you say, ‘Well, you might as well wear a seatbelt.’ And then they say, ‘We’ve consulted with policy expert Rory Stewart and he says ...’"

OK, that's really funny, and I think it's true a fair amount of the time. 

On the other hand, I'm not sure that metaphor holds up all of the time.  Consider another possibility.  From the policymaker's perspective, getting outside advice is like trying to figure out which railroad track to take if you're driving a train.  There are three options ahead, and for myriad reasons each of the possibilities carries some risk.  So you go place an emergency phone call to the head of Harvard's Department of Railroad Studies to get a recommendation.  His advice?  "Why don't you go off-track?"  

To revisit a recurring theme on this blog, sometimes the outside advisor is right to make policymakers question core assumptions.  At the same time, however, sometimes a policymaker has neither the time nor the political capital to go back to first principles.  Sometimes they just need to know what is the least bad policy option.  And I guarantee you that having an academic tell them, "they're all bad policy options" is of no use whatsoever in that moment.   

I suspect that knowing which metaphor applies is more art than science, but I'm curious to hear from commenters on both sides of the policymaking divide. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Here I am this morning, furiously trying to avoid online distractions and Red Sox news at the breakfast table, when I stumble upon this Eric Zencey op-ed in the New York Times.  Sure enough, the content of this op-ed is rich enough in stupidity that I have no choice but to spit out my coffee and declare, "to the Blogcave!" 

Zencey's basic argument is about the use of gross domestic product as a metric for economic well-being.  He points out that because GDP measures only economic activity, it misses out on a lot:  volunteer activities, nature, etc.  Furthermore, GDP overstates the benefit of reconstruction efforts -- like, say, post-Katrina spending -- because GDP counts it as new economic activity rather than salvaging pre-existing assets. 

So far, so good -- anyone who takes an Econ 101 class is told this immediately after they are introduced to the concept of GDP. 

The problem with the op-ed is two-fold.  First, the NYT editor was apparently asleep at the wheel, because otherwise sentences like this do not ever see the light of day: 

In general, the replacement of natural-capital services (like sun-drying clothes, or the propagation of fish, or flood control and water purification) with built-capital services (like those from a clothes dryer, or an industrial fish farm, or from levees, dams and treatment plants) is a bad trade — built capital is costly, doesn’t maintain itself, and in many cases provides an inferior, less-certain service.

Why, yes, I look back with nostalgia when the natural-capital provision of flood-control services was in its heyday.  I believe it was called "flooding."  Ah... good times.  The modern-day system is definitely an inferior product.

This is a venal sin in the op-ed, a case of an editor not helping out his writer.  Now we get to the mortal sin.  Here's Zencey's core argument for why we should discard the idea of GDP: 

Wise decisions depend on accurate assessments of the costs and benefits of different courses of action. If we don’t count ecosystem services as a benefit in our basic measure of well-being, their loss can’t be counted as a cost — and then economic decision-making can’t help but lead us to undesirable and perversely un-economic outcomes.

OK, that's an interesting argument.  And I would be persuaded to take it seriously if the op-ed provided a single data point to back up that assertion

Instead, we get.... nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  No evidence is provided whatsoever that reliance upon standard GDP measures has distorted U.S. economic policies.   

Someone needs to sit the op-ed team at the New York Times down and explain to them the concept of "opportunity cost."  Because the cost of publishing this unedited dreck instead of something more interesting was pretty big. 

Posted By Daniel W. Drezner

Martin Feldstein has become the whipping boy du jour in the blogosphere because of a Washington Post op-ed he published on Monday on U.S. global warming legislation.  The nub of his argument: 

Americans should ask themselves whether this annual tax of $1,600-plus per family is justified by the very small resulting decline in global CO2. Since the U.S. share of global CO2 production is now less than 25 percent (and is projected to decline as China and other developing nations grow), a 15 percent fall in U.S. CO2 output would lower global CO2 output by less than 4 percent. Its impact on global warming would be virtually unnoticeable. The U.S. should wait until there is a global agreement on CO2 that includes China and India before committing to costly reductions in the United States.

Henry Farrell, Jonathan Chait, Matthew Yglesias, and David Roberts all call foul on Feldstein's argument, pointing out, as Yglesias puts it:

[T]his is clearly a proposition about international relations and the domestic politics of China and India rather than a proposition about economic analysis of the Waxman-Markey bill. And it’s not a proposition that anyone actually working in the field of climate policy or diplomatic relations with China seems to agree with.

I don't exactly work on climate policy or on diplomatic relations with China.  I did, however, stay at a Holiday In Express last night write a book on global regulatory coordination that is kind of relevant to the question.  I agree with the bloggers above that the U.S. is not going to be undercutting its bargaining position by passing something like Waxman-Markey. 

That said, let's be honest -- it's not really going to be strengthening it all that much either.  Any kind of comprehensive climate policy will require China and India to take measures that will hobble their growth trajectories in the short run.  So the adjustment costs are enormous for them.  What could convince them to engage in genuine policy coordination? 

International relations theory suggests two mechanisms to ensure cooperation: the logic of appropriateness (i.e., the power of norms), and the logic of consequences i.e., the power of sanctions).  Certainly, the normative pressure to "do something" about global warming has been on the increase. The problem is that Chindia can deploy a counternorm of fairness. They can and will argue that because the economies belonging to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development were historically responsible for the bulk of carbon dioxide emissions, they should be responsible for shouldering the burden of ameliorating the problem. With competing norms at play, it is unlikely that a logic of appropriateness will work on its own.

The logic of consequences involves the creation of material rewards and punishments to encourage more compliance. From everything I've read, however, the utility of trade sanctions or border taxes is very problematic from either a legal or a welfare perspective. Simply put, most CO2-emitting activity in these countries is for domestic consumption rather than export. 

There's an additional reason why IR theory is pessimistic about the likelihood of cooperation on this issue.  China has supplanted America as the biggest emitter of greenhouse gases. From an economic perspective, we are witnessing a transition from a bipolar world (the US + EU) to a multipolar world (OECD + BRICs). International relations theory is not sanguine about what this means for international cooperation. In theory, a concert of great powers can still foster cooperation. Possible does not mean likely, however.  In practice, as the number of powerful actors increases, the likelihood of meaningful cooperation declines.  The unending Doha Round of multilateral trade negotiations is obvious evidence of this. Future trends in the distribution of power do not make the creation of an effective climate change regime impossible -- but they do make it much more difficult.

So, in the end, my expert take is that Waxman-Markey is kind of like Obama's other soft power initiatives -- they certainly don't hurt, but they also don't help all that much either. 

[So, your brilliant solution is to do nothing?--ed.  No my half-baked solution is a bit more perverse:  link adaptation benefits to construictive steps on mitigation.  The expert consensus on global warming is that regardless on what is done to mitigate its effects, adaptation to elevated levels of greenhouse gases will be required. Furthermore, this burden will fall disproportionately on the developing world.  Unlike mitigation, which is a pure public good, adaptation is an excudable benefit.  If a climate change regime proffers an adaptation fund of some sort linked to concrete steps on mitigation, it could nudge the big LDC emitters towards the necessary levels of cooperation.]

Daniel W. Drezner is professor of international politics at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University.

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