The Prague Spring and Détente: How the Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Helped to Reduce Tensions

[And now for Part II of our series on Eastern (Czecho and Hungary… so actually Central?) European reform movements from a U.S. foreign policy context during the Cold War! Apologies again for the Roman numerals; OpenOffice does that automatically for some reason. It’s the second-to-last piece of my undergraduate career (looking forward to posting my senior thesis here… after it’s finally done). I guess I should do something about Poland ’89 after graduation and make a trilogy out of this!]

By the late 1960’s, the lines drawn between NATO and the Warsaw Pact in Europe were static, and the hegemons at the head of either bloc had turned to expanding their influence and power in the third world where young, post-colonial states could be bought with arms and aid. The United States, under the Johnson administration, was mired in the Vietnam War; the Soviet Union, on the other hand, had just undergone a transition of leadership from Khrushchev to Brezhnev in 1964, and memories of Khrushchev’s heavy-handed brinksmanship, particularly in Cuba in 1962, led the new Politburo to toe a more moderate line.ⁱ By 1967, Soviet influence in the Middle East, where it had invested considerable energy and resources in building ties with the Arab states, was crumbling under the pressure of a strong Israel following its victory in the Six Day War.ⁱⁱ The United States, however, found itself in a similar situation of declining influence: by the waning years of the decade, there were over 500,000 American troops fighting in Vietnam, and domestic unrest in the United States over the war was at an all-time high.ⁱⁱⁱ Add to the equation domestic economic issues in the U.S.S.R. and the deteriorating ties between the Soviets and the Chinese, which would result in a border war in March 1969 across the Ussuri River,^iv and the two superpowers were all but ready to sit down at the negotiating table. A shock came to the Soviets in 1968, though, as their dominance of Eastern Europe was, as before in 1956 in Budapest, threatened by a reform movement in one of their satellites: Alexander Dubček’s so-called “Prague Spring,” a top-down reform movement of the communist system in Czechoslovakia, threatened the stability of the status quo in Europe. Dubček’s reforms, which resulted in press restrictions being lifted and culminated with rumors and talk of multi-party democracy, forced Brezhnev’s hand and triggered the Soviets into action. The ensuing Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia and occupation, as well as the declaration of the “Brezhnev Doctrine,” initially threw a wrench in the détente process: the outgoing Johnson administration had little to discuss, and the newly elected Nixon administration was reluctant to deal with the Soviets. Ultimately, however, the fallout from the invasion effectively forced the Soviets to sit down with the U.S., and a war-weary America was more than willing to oblige them.^v The Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia was a defining moment in Soviet foreign policy and in the Soviet-American relationship in the 1960’s, and it set the stage for a major reduction in tensions in the following decade by giving the United States an edge at the negotiating table.

In the lead-up to 1968, the United States was plunged knee-deep in the Vietnam War. The war had been escalating consistently under President Johnson since 1964, when the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution effectively gave the president carte blanche to conduct the war as he saw fit. A military coup in South Vietnam in 1963, approved by the CIA and executed by a cabal of South Vietnamese officers mere weeks before President Kennedy’s assassination, allowed a military government with neither a long term strategy nor any working cohesion to come to power in place of Ngo Dinh Diem’s unpopular regime.^vi This caused incredible weakness and instability in the South Vietnamese government, and forced the United States to make a much more devoted commitment to prevent its ally’s collapse: by the end of 1965, more than 184,000 American troops were on the ground in South Vietnam with more on the way.^vii An arrogant American foreign policy, guided by the assumption that what Johnson’s administration accomplished in the Dominican Republic could be replicated in Southeast Asia, allowed the United States to ratchet up its involvement rapidly.^viii Discontent and anti-war sentiments ballooned at home; morale plummeted among American troops and the American people. Until 1968, the administration asserted that victory was not only possible, but also right around the corner. Then, in January 1968, came the Tet Offensive: the resulting fallout caused the Americans to scale back their bombing campaign of the North and rethink their strategy. With discontent so high, President Johnson opted to not seek reelection, and he withdrew from the 1968 presidential race.^ix American prestige was reeling.

The Soviet Union was in a similar situation: its humiliation in 1962 from Cuba had led Brezhnev to seek a massive rearmament program and military buildup, but his investment in the Arab states of the Middle East also expanded. The 1967 Six Day War, which was a resounding victory for the Israelis, did not sway the Soviet commitment to the Arab states: they desperately continued to pour money into Syria and Egypt to maintain some influence in the region, and as a result Soviet foreign policy in the Middle East was held hostage by radical Arab nationalists.^x At the peak of the Six Day War, the Soviets sent Alexei Kosygin, a member of Brezhnev’s inner circle in the Politburo, to Glassboro, New Jersey to meet with President Johnson. The Americans were, at this time, ready for far-reaching talks to reduce tensions because of their involvement in Indochina, but Kosygin was not prepared for serious talks, especially since Moscow was in the process of building up its nuclear arsenal to reach parity with the United States.^xi Coming events would see the Soviets much more eager to return to the table not long after the failed attempt to reach a consensus in Glassboro.

With the turmoil unfolding in the third world, Europe, as divided by the Iron Curtain, was relatively quiet. Since 1956, the order established in Europe had remained unchallenged by either side: the Eisenhower administration had learned the hard way what encouraging revolutionary sentiments in Eastern Europe would do to the Soviet Union’s temper. A storm was brewing in Europe’s heart, though, on the eastern frontier of NATO’s border with Czechoslovakia. Czechoslovakia was a unique case in 20^th century Europe: it was the last democratic state in Europe east of the Rhine river prior to the Second World War, and it was also the first nation sacrificed to appease Hitler’s appetite in 1938.^xii After the war, it was the last Eastern European state to fall to Communism, where the democratic coalition government was forcibly overthrown in 1948 by a coup d’état, and a new constitution was drafted that solidified the dominance of the Communist Party.^xiii Through the 1950’s and early 1960’s, the Czechoslovak Communists followed a similar trend as the other European Soviet satellites: they consolidated their power through suppressing dissent and dismantling the opposition through a series of show trials and police crackdowns. In contrast to the rest of the Eastern European satellites, though, the Czechoslovak political system was remarkably stable. Stalinism endured in Czechoslovakia well after Stalin’s death in 1953; the regime in Prague survived revolts in Berlin and Warsaw, as well as a revolution in Hungary, without wavering.^xiv By the mid 1960’s, the Czechoslovak government had begun to loosen its grip. A growing desire for change among intellectuals reached a climax in June 1967 at the Congress of Czechoslovak Writers, and at student demonstrations in Prague in October of the same year.^xv

The government acknowledged these calls for reform, and on January 5, 1968, Antonin Novotny resigned as First Secretary of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia after fourteen years in that position.^xvi He was replaced by Alexander Dubček, a relatively obscure Slovak politician who had risen to the leadership of the Slovak branch of the party. Novotny further resigned from the Presidency of the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic in March. In April 1968, “The Action Program of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia” was adopted at the plenary session of the Party’s Central Committee, and was titled “The Czechoslovak Road to Communism.” The Action Program broadly outlined proposed political and economic reforms, and placed an emphasis on the government’s desire to bring Czechoslovakia into the “scientific-technical revolution.” The Program featured a proposal for a complete overhaul of the Czechoslovak legal system, which for the first time since the 1948 coup would guarantee certain rights and safeguards for individuals within the criminal justice system.^xvii The Action Program also promised to guarantee the rights to free speech and free press, which were unheard of east of the Iron Curtain. Overall, it shifted the focus away from the Party, which was mentioned briefly and vaguely, and instead concentrated on the state organs, particularly the National Assembly.^xviii The Assembly was to become a veritable legislature, rather than a rubber stamp assembly, and it would play a large role in instituting the proposed reforms. From April to June, the government made preliminary steps towards implementing the Action Plan, but public opinion often made demands that went much further than the moderate reforms proposed.^xix The Czechoslovak government, with the liberalization of the press, had essentially started rolling a boulder down a mountain: once it gained momentum, it would be very difficult to stop without a great amount of force.

The response in American foreign policy and intelligence circles was noticeably measured: the United States had been burned in 1956, and the lessons learned made them reluctant to rock the boat in 1968. A telegram from Washington to the U.S. embassy in Prague on February 13, before the Action Program was even published, indicated the policy direction that the United States would take:

Since political, social and economic situation in Czechoslovakia still very unclear and obviously in state of flux, believe our posture at moment should in general be one of responsiveness to positive Czech approaches without attempting to precipitate Czech action.^xx

This attitude of cautious optimism was guided by the assumption that Dubček would seek a more independent foreign policy from the Soviet Union, which would necessitate warming relations with the West. A month later, on March 21, Walter Stoessel, then Deputy Assistant Secretary for European Affairs, met with Dr. Karel Duda, the Czechoslovak Ambassador to the United States. At this meeting, Ambassador Duda foreshadowed the Action Program that would be unveiled at the Central Committee Plenum on March 28, and briefly mentioned some anticipated reforms: he specifically mentioned that, despite the Vietnam conflict, the new leadership in Prague would, as expected, “wish to improve relations with the United States.”^xxi The ambassador also brushed away concerns over intervention from the Soviets. A later telegram from Prague to Washington explicitly stated that they “hoped that lessons were learned on all sides from 1956,” and the embassy staff in Prague assured the State Department in Washington that they trusted the Czechoslovak government to remain cool, and to not undertake drastic changes that might provoke the ire of the Soviets.^xxii

As the reforms progressed, Brezhnev watched them nervously. The free press and democratic reforms in the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic were quickly becoming an existential threat to the Soviet Union’s hegemony over Eastern Europe; Brezhnev’s Politburo viewed the growing reform movement in Prague as a major challenge to the stability of Communism in the East, just as the Hungarian Revolution had been in 1956. The reforms in Prague were a revolution from the top-down, though, and there was no violence or strife: where the Hungarian Revolution was an explosion of popular passions, the Prague Spring was characterized more as an intellectual exercise driven by writers and students. Ambassador Duda had dismissed concerns of an intervention in his March meeting with Stoessel, but he had acknowledged that, in the event of strife or violence, an intervention would not be inconceivable.^xxiii While there was no civil strife, and the divisions that existed within the Czechoslovak government between reformers and hardliners were relatively tame, it would not keep the Soviets from finding strife to “help” alleviate. By May there were already signals showing: reports from Poland and East Germany told of massive Soviet troop movements towards the Czechoslovak border on May 9, 1968.^xxiv Prague publicly brushed this off as a military exercise that it had been alerted to beforehand, but the message from Moscow was received loud and clear around the world: shots had been fired across Prague’s bow. The U.S. government continued to keep a close eye on the situation, but it refrained from giving any real encouragement or assistance to the Czechoslovakians. A dispatch from the U.S. embassy in Moscow on July 11 described that Dubček’s government was coming under intense Soviet pressure to contain their “democratization” because of fears from Brezhnev that the Czechoslovak reforms could spill into not only the other Eastern European satellites, but also into the Soviet Union itself. Brezhnev publicly protested any interference in internal Czech affairs, but the embassy staff pointed out that a harsh media campaign by the Soviet government against Czechoslovak liberalization was in full swing.^xxv A memorandum written on July 22 recorded a conversation between Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Deputy Under Secretary of State Charles E. Bohlen, and Soviet Ambassador Anatoliy Dobrynin. During their conversation, Ambassador Dobrynin insinuated that the U.S. was involving itself in the “Czech situation” in a NATO plot involving the CIA. Rusk denounced the accusations, and went on to say that “no one knew better” than the members of the Soviet Union’s diplomatic mission to the U.S. the restraint that the American government had exercised regarding the situation in Czechoslovakia. The report made special mention that Dobrynin appeared considerably worried, unlike his “usual genial self.”^xxvi

Although the United States had firmly followed a wait-and-see strategy regarding Dubček’s reforms, Brezhnev was fearful that a Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia would provoke NATO into a war in Europe, and he hoped to utilize political options to pressure Dubček to back down before it was too late. Brezhnev’s own allies in Poland and East Germany, Gomulka and Ulbricht respectively, pushed for an invasion because they feared instabilities in their own countries that might be triggered by Czechoslovak reforms. On the 26^th and 27^th of July, the Soviet Politburo set a provisional plan for the invasion of Czechoslovakia with the understanding that negotiations would continue until they were exhausted. Their attempts failed, though, and on the 21^st of August, 1968, the Kremlin gave the order: the Red Army, along with forces from other Warsaw Pact states (with the notable exception of Romania) were unleashed on Czechoslovakia.^xxvii Still the 20^th of August in Washington, an emergency meeting of the National Security Council was called at 10:15 p.m. to address the crisis: all around the table, the Soviets’ actions were met with surprise.^xxviii President Johnson remarked that he called the meeting after being informed personally by Ambassador Dobrynin that the Soviet Union was intervening in Czechoslovakia “at the request of the Czechoslovak government.”^xxix On the night of the invasion, the NSC, at the suggestion of Secretary of State Dean Rusk, decided to immediately summon the Soviet ambassador again to clarify the situation. President Johnson also decided to consult with NATO allies that night, and the next day the UN Security Council convened to discuss the invasion.^xxx A statement released by President Johnson on the 21^st condemned the “tragic news from Czechoslovakia,” and urged a Soviet pullout, but otherwise did not make demands nor urge the Czechoslovak people to action.^xxxi Even at the peak of the crisis, the United States pursued a non-confrontational route for fear of provoking the Soviets to repeat the bloodbath that was Budapest.

The invasion was luckily, by comparison to Hungary in 1956, relatively bloodless. The invading Warsaw Pact armies did not meet armed resistance from Czechoslovak forces, who were ordered by the government not to resist.^xxxii The citizenry were encouraged by their government to engage in passive and non-violent resistance. Aside from strong vocal opposition to Soviet aggression, the West was noticeably silent, whereas in Hungary they had goaded the revolutionaries to take to the streets with Molotov cocktails and submachine guns. There were some casualties, but they were mostly students gunned down by Soviet conscripts who had lost their nerve or were inexperienced with crowd control; Czech and Slovak blood spilled on the streets of Prague did unite the nation in hate, though, and the month long occupation was epitomized by the Soviet soldiers not receiving the warm welcome they had been promised by their superiors. Morale among the invading troops was low as the Czechs and Slovaks rejected them outright rather than welcoming them as liberators as had been expected.^xxxiii The reaction in the West was just as careful and measured after the invasion as it had been before: apart from discussion at the United Nations, the U.S. government remained publicly more or less silent on the issue. It would be some time after the invasion that the Americans would reap the benefits of the corner that the Soviets had backed themselves into.

In the autumn following the invasion, the Soviet Union announced the Brezhnev Doctrine: Brezhnev declared in November 1968 that it was the right and duty of the Soviet Union to intervene in any state where the Marxist-Leninist system was imperiled by the threat of a new capitalist system taking over.^xxxiv The invasion itself had, at least outwardly, appeared to be a resounding success: even American policymakers, specifically Secretary of Defense Clark Clifford, were impressed by the efficiency and swiftness with which the Soviet military had secured Prague and the surrounding countryside, and they discussed how this indicated a rising Soviet military strength in Eastern Europe.^xxxv The invasion was not a success, though; it was a massive gamble on the part of Moscow, and the Soviets would pay the price. The rising schism between China and the Soviet Union was exacerbated by the intervention, and it painfully strained the once monolithic force of world Communism that now appeared to be crumbling. Rising discontent in Romania and Yugoslavia against the Soviets also became more pronounced, and even on Red Square itself there was a historic protest against the invasion.^xxxvi Brezhnev had hoped that the invasion would stifle the yearning in Eastern Europe for reform and democracy; while it did so forcefully, the spillover of liberal ideas from Czechoslovakia had, as he had feared, been even worse than from the revolutions in Poland and Hungary in 1956.^xxxvii It was obvious to the Kremlin that these forces of dissidence were still at work under the surface, and that the invasion of Czechoslovakia could not possibly stamp it out completely. The Brezhnev Doctrine was a brave facade to portray the Soviet Union as strong and secure in its position in Eastern Europe, but the Soviet leadership was well aware of the reality of the price they would have to pay if they were forced to implement it again.^xxxviii Considering the need to avoid further conflict, and the loss of Chinese support, the foreign policy directive of the Soviet Union in the 1970s was to avoid at all costs implementing the Brezhnev Doctrine again. This meant improving relations with the United States and NATO was imperative in order to avoid economic sanctions and instability in Europe; this meant détente could proceed.^xxxix

As in 1956, the Soviet police action in Czechoslovakia came in the run-up to an American presidential election. The 1968 election was a landslide victory for Republican Richard Nixon, who was ushered into office on a wave of anti-Vietnam War fervor. Notably, Nixon was Eisenhower’s Vice President at the time of the Soviet invasion of Hungary, which put a special distaste in his mouth for the intervention in Czechoslovakia: in 1970, Nixon was reluctant to deal with Brezhnev with the fallout of 1968 in recent memory. His opportunity to make his move came before he took office, when in 1969 shots were fired across the Sino-Soviet border. In 1971, Nixon’s National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger traveled to China secretly; Nixon followed publicly in 1972.^xl By opening relations with Beijing, Nixon hoped to play the two Communist powers against one another in an attempt to permit a graceful American exit from Vietnam. In the meantime, his warming with China put additional pressure on the Soviets, who had by this time reached parity in strategic weapons stockpiles with the United States. Early in his presidency, Nixon had announced the development of a new anti-ballistic missile program in response to the growing Soviet arsenal.^xli With these factors in play, the Soviets had no choice but to sit down at the table and resume talks regarding arms reduction: the SALT I agreement was signed in 1972, and with it came an underlying principle of the détente process that would characterize Nixon’s administration: that neither side would attempt to take a unilateral advantage over the other.^xlii Curiously, Nixon proceeded to do just this, and he moved to press his advantages with his relations with China and Iran, among other states, to secure an advantage for the United States while maintaining an atmosphere of cooperation with the Soviets. The steps had been made in the right direction, though, towards developing mutual trust, and the foundation was laid for a further reduction in tensions between the two superpowers.

Ultimately, the Prague Spring and ensuing Soviet intervention did nothing to change the status quo in Europe, but the events in Czechoslovakia in 1968 did much to give momentum to the détente process and to influence the course of the Cold War in the following decade. While both superpowers were receptive to negotiations prior to the Soviet invasion, the Soviets were more hesitant than the Americans to commit to serious talks. The loss of prestige that the Soviets suffered as a result of their aggressive attempt to roll back liberal reforms in their sphere of influence had a major impact on their ability to negotiate from an advantageous position. By 1970, a new administration was in power in Washington, and its priority was withdrawal from the conflict in Vietnam. American prestige had been wounded by the Vietnam conflict, but Nixon’s administration had fresh political capital to play with and Henry Kissinger’s realpolitik to guide policy. With these assets, Nixon was able to position the United States in a way that made the Soviets, already suffering from loss of influence in the third world and teetering on shaky ground in their own backyard, unable to refuse rapprochement with America. The newly minted Brezhnev Doctrine, retroactively applied to Hungary 1956, was built on lies and bluffs: the Soviets could not possibly afford to invade another one of their satellites, especially within what was supposed to be their inner ring of buffer states. While their military might had reached both conventional and strategic parity with the United States, the Soviets were unable to exercise that might without risking either an all-out war or a dramatic disintegration of their bloc. Soviet relations with the Chinese were also crumbling, and were made worse by their invasion of Czechoslovakia. With the loss of their largest land border as a friend, the Soviets had little choice but to warm up to the West or risk economic repercussions in response to their aggressive containment policy. Brezhnev, in 1972, went on to give credit to his invasion of Czechoslovakia: “Without [the invasion of] Czechoslovakia – there would have been no Brandt in Germany, no Nixon in Moscow, no détente.”^xliii While his reasoning for giving credit to the intervention was more an exoneration of himself as the executioner of Czechoslovakia rather than a public acknowledgment of a weakened Soviet position, his assertion was true. The Soviet intervention in Czechoslovakia was a calculated risk by the Kremlin to stem the tide against the disintegration of their sphere of influence in Eastern Europe; while they were successful in containing the spillover into their other satellites and border territories, the Soviets expended immense political capital and sacrificed a large amount of prestige to do so. The new administration in Washington, under the direction of Nixon and Kissinger, pounced at the opportunity to press their advantage and to create a new balance of power in the Cold War.

i Vladislav Zubok, A Failed Empire (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 193-95

ii Ibid. 200

iii John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War: A New History (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 144

iv Ibid. 149

v Ibid. 153

vi Ibid. 133

vii Ibid.

viii Stephen E. Ambrose and Douglas G. Brinkley, Rise to Globalism, 9^th ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 2011), 206

ix Ibid. 221-23

x Zubok 200

xi Ibid.

xii Harold Gordon Skilling, Czechoslovakia’s Interrupted Revolution (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), 10

xiii Ibid. 11

xiv Zbyněk Zeman, Prague Spring (New York: Hill and Wang, 1969), 13

xv Philip Bergmann, Self Determination: The case of Czechoslovakia 1968-1969 (Lugano-Bellinzona: Istituto Editoriale Ticinese, 1972), 19

xvi Ibid. 20

xvii Ibid. 21-22

xviii Skilling 221

xix Ibid. 225

xx Telegram From the DoS to the Embassy in Czechoslovakia: 13 February 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d55&gt;

xxi Memorandum of Conversation between Dr. Karel Duda and Mr. Walter J. Stoessel: 21 March 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d56&gt;

xxii Telegram from the Embassy in Czechoslovakia to the Department of State: 25 March 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d57&gt;

xxiii Memorandum of Conversation between Dr. Karel Duda and Mr. Walter J. Stoessel: 21 March 1968

xxiv Harry Schwartz, Prague’s 200 Days (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1969), 142

xxv Telegram from the Embassy in the Soviet Union to the Department of State: 11 July 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d65&gt;

xxvi Memorandum of Conversation between Anatoliy F. Dobrynin, Secretary of State Dean Rusk, and Deputy Under Secretary Charles E. Bohlen <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d70&gt;

xxvii Zubok 208

xxviii Notes of Emergency Meeting of the National Security Council: 20 August 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d81&gt;

xxix Summary of Meeting between President Johnson, Anatoliy Dobrynin, and Walt Rostow: 20 August 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d80&gt;

xxx Notes of Emergency Meeting of the National Security Council: 20 August 1968

xxxi Statement by President Johnson on Czechoslovakia: 21 August 1968 <http://www.foia.cia.gov/sites/default/files/document_conversions/19/1968-08-21g.pdf&gt;

xxxii Bergmann 34

xxxiii Schwartz 212-13

xxxiv Gaddis 150

xxxv Summary of Meeting of Johnson Cabinet: 23 August 1968 <http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1964-68v17/d85&gt;

xxxvi Gaddis 153

xxxvii Zubok 209

xxxviii Gaddis 153

xxxix Ibid.

xl Gaddis 151

xli Ambrose 230

xlii Ibid. 231-32

xliii Zubok 209

The United States and the Hungarian Revolution: The Death of Rollback

[Apologies for the endnotes being Roman numerals, but they auto-converted when copied from the original text.]

The year 1956 was a tumultuous year on the international stage, but this proves particularly true when studying United States foreign policy at the time. It was a year of many unknowns for the United States, as while the Cold War had already gained momentum in the wake of the Korean War, U.S. policy was still in its developing stages for coping with the new postwar order. The Eisenhower administration had the legacy of Truman’s eponymous doctrine to work with, however questions still lingered over how that doctrine, that the United States would support any nation being threatened with takeover by an armed minority (implicitly meant to refer to Communists), would be implemented. Although the Truman Doctrine was initially a major step towards containment policy, as espoused by George Kennan in his 1946 Long Telegram,ⁱ in 1956 the policy of rollback was still popular in many Washington circles. Rollback was popularized within the United States government by NSC-68, a document published in 1950 by the National Security Council that called for unprecedented peacetime military spending and an increasingly coercive and confrontational attitude towards the Soviets.ⁱⁱ Rollback was essentially the policy of pressuring the Soviets out of Eastern Europe, possibly through military means, and, in effect, liberating the nations that had previously been “liberated” by the Soviets at the end of the Second World War. At the time of its writing, NSC-68 speculated on the development of Soviet thermonuclear capabilities;ⁱⁱⁱ by 1955, however, the Soviets had tested their first air-dropped thermonuclear weapon, and had bombers capable of reaching American targets.^iv This complicated matters significantly for American strategic planning and diplomatic policy, and made rollback appear increasingly less likely. In 1956, the United States had a tenuous, but stable, relationship with the Soviet Union. Stalin’s death in 1953 had opened inroads for an understanding to be reestablished between East and West, and by February 1956 the Soviet leadership officially renounced expectations of “imminent war” with the West.^v Khrushchev had worked to consolidate his power in the wake of Stalin’s demise, and had reoriented the Soviet Union through his de-Stalinization efforts such that it appeared peaceful coexistence between the two superpowers would be, in some way, possible. Six months after the renunciation of Stalin’s long-standing paranoia, however, came a shock that terrorized the Soviet leadership, and left the Eisenhower administration stunned: on October 23, 1956, the powder keg that had been simmering in Hungary exploded with incredible ferocity. What had started during the day as mass student demonstrations quickly spread throughout Budapest, and escalated between eight or nine o’clock that night into open combat in front of the state broadcasting headquarters.^vi What ensued was a period of tension between the Soviets and Americans, and the events that transpired in Budapest sent shock waves through both Moscow and Washington. The Hungarian Revolution of 1956 came at a pivotal point in time in the United States-Soviet relationship, and it had a lasting impact on the United States’ relationship with the Soviet Union and its satellites, particularly in the development of containment policy and the abandonment of rollback and liberation as strategic goals.

There are several factors that contributed to the ferocity of the Hungarian Revolution, but there are two factors which stand out considerably from the myriad of background influences. The first was the repressive rule of Hungary’s “Little Stalin,” Matyas Rakosi, which was characterized by purges^vii and economic instability and stagnation.^viii The second, in the immediate run-up to the outbreak of fighting in Hungary, was the appointment of a reformist in Poland, Wladyslaw Gomulka, as the First Secretary of the Polish United Workers’ Party. Gomulka was able to negotiate a troop reduction agreement with the Soviets, which emboldened Hungarians who were resentful of the continued military occupation of their nation by the Red Army.^ix Following the death of Stalin, and with the support of the Soviet Presidium, Imre Nagy, a moderate reformist, was appointed Premier in Hungary on July 4, 1953; early in his tenure Nagy introduced numerous changes to the country’s economic system.^x Rakosi, however, maintained his post at the head of the Party, and the two clashed frequently.^xi Rakosi was eventually able to win back the favor of the Soviet Presidium, which put Nagy’s liberal tendencies under intense scrutiny by Moscow. Nagy suffered a minor heart attack, attributed to stress, in January 1955, effectively removing him from his capacity as Premier.^xii Nagy was expelled from the Hungarian Politburo and Central Committee three months later.^xiii Nagy, however, would be redeemed. Khrushchev’s address to the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, the so-called “Secret Speech,” in February 1956, although not published in the Eastern bloc, denounced Stalinism and the “cult of personality.”^xiv Rakosi, as a pupil of Stalin, was in trouble. After months of internal conflict, mainly between the intelligentsia and Rakosi’s Stalinist Politburo, Rakosi was dismissed from his post at Khrushchev’s request on July 18, 1956. Erno Gero, a close associate of Rakosi’s, replaced him as General Secretary.^xv The buildup of discontent centered around the character of Imre Nagy, who the nation thought of as their only hope to deliver them from the repression of the current government. When news of the reinstatement of Gomulka in Warsaw reached Budapest, the Hungarians immediately wondered: “why can the same not happen here?” The shakeup of the Hungarian Communists’ leadership, as well as the installation of a liberal-leaning government in Poland, gave the Hungarians the audacity to begin asking these sorts of questions.^xvi Nagy was aware of the coming storm, and when news of the demonstrations reached him at his country home on the morning of October 23, he made his way back to his villa on Orso Street in the center of Budapest. That evening, Nagy arrived at the Parliament building in Budapest where an angry mob armed with torches shouted for his reinstatement as leader. Nagy convinced the people to return to their homes peaceably, and they begrudgingly obliged him.^xvii News, however, arrived of shots being fired outside the headquarters of the state radio station. The violence quickly escalated: rebels raided state armories, and policemen and soldiers who were averse to fighting their own countrymen laid down their weapons. The rebels demanded Nagy be installed as both Premier and General Secretary of the Party. This put Nagy in a very precarious position as Moscow’s eyes were drawn to him.^xviii

The United States was keenly aware of the brooding sentiments among the Hungarian population during this period. A report was prepared in January 1956, one month prior to Khrushchev’s secret address, for U.S. Army Intelligence by Georgetown University. It examined Hungary’s suitability as a “potential theater for Special Forces operations.”^xix The report acknowledged that Hungary had widespread dissidence, with popular support of the regime estimated at less than 10% of the population in 1954. It also concluded, however, that the nature of dissidence in Hungary did not pose an immediate threat to the state’s health.^xx Passive resistance, the report asserted, was “perhaps more common in Hungary than in any other European satellite,” but there was no evidence to suggest active partisan activity or organized resistance against the Communist regime.^xxi The Georgetown report was also cognizant of the problem surrounding the youth in Hungary, who would become the driving force behind the uprising later that year. “Contrary to early predictions of Communist success in the indoctrination of youth,” it states, “the whole youth program has been far from successful, and the resistance of youth is one of the most serious problems facing the Communists.”^xxii The report attributed the lack of active, organized resistance movements and partisans to a problem of geography, which is also why it concluded that Hungary, despite its high levels of discontent and passive resistance, was not suitable for U.S. covert operations. The report stated that the nature of Hungary’s geography, as a landlocked and mostly flat nation, did not lend itself well to the execution of covert activities, as there were few places for operatives to conceal themselves.^xxiii

Mention of unrest in Hungary was again raised in American foreign policy circles days before Rakosi’s dismissal as Premier in July 1956. On July 12, the National Security Council met to create a new draft policy statement toward Eastern Europe: NSC-5608. In the minutes to the meeting, Vice President Nixon is quoted as saying that he would be “most reluctant” to follow any policy that followed George Kennan’s line that “there was essentially nothing we could do about the unhappy status quo now existing in the Soviet satellites.”^xxiv Nixon asserted that it would be a great error to use terms in the draft that would potentially discourage democratic elements in the Eastern bloc. The Vice President himself, in a sense, supported rollback, at least rhetorically, to buck the hold of the Soviet Union over its satellites. During the meeting, Nixon commented that it “wouldn’t be an unmixed evil, from the point of view of U.S. interest,” if the Soviet Union were again to come down hard on the satellites of Eastern Europe. He clarified, though, that it would be more desirable for the ongoing trend of liberalization in Soviet-satellite relations to continue.^xxv Director of Central Intelligence Allen Dulles, younger brother to Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, responded to Nixon’s mention of another possible Soviet crackdown by pointing out “indications of considerable unrest in Czechoslovakia and Hungary,” and said that U.S. attention had been diverted from these developments by the more “spectacular events” in Poznan, referring to the revolt in Poland that ultimately resulted in the re-installation of Gomulka to power in Warsaw.^xxvi The conversation at this meeting of the NSC foreshadowed the events of autumn 1956, but the U.S. intelligence community did not predict the uprising. Because it was not suitable for operations, Hungary remained largely under the radar.

It is apparent, judging by the Vice President’s comments, that, up until this point, rollback was still considered a feasible and, perhaps, a preferable option when compared to containment. In fact, when the Eisenhower administration took the reigns from Truman in 1953, statements made by the new Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles, suggested a more aggressive American foreign policy on Eastern Europe. Dulles promised to support an “explosive and dynamic” policy of “liberation.”^xxvii The rhetoric, however, did not match the substance of the administration’s policies: in 1954, Eisenhower decided that no moment “would be right to start a war,” and asserted that the United States would only retaliate against Soviet aggression. Both Secretary of Defense Charles Wilson and Secretary of State Dulles came to argue for containment, but a tension developed within U.S. foreign policy by the time the uprising of 1956 exploded. On the one hand, the United States had not changed its rhetoric, and actively encouraged the Eastern European states to break away from the Soviet hegemony. On the other hand, the United States privately refused to offer any sort of military support to states which did attempt to run the gauntlet of Soviet resolve. What resulted was a U.S. foreign policy characterized by psychological operations, inflammatory propaganda, and covert operations to disrupt Soviet control.^xxviii While the notion of rollback was popular in Washington, there was little enthusiasm for actually trying to implement it: the risk of open armed confrontation with the Soviets resulting from it was too high for the administration to seriously consider it. While the administration more or less formally rejected rollback as a viable policy in 1953 with the adoption of NSC-174,^xxix the spirit of liberation was still popular. Rather than propose forceful liberation of Eastern Europe, the Eisenhower administration continued to pursue the goals of rollback through covert means. The rhetoric associated with liberation from Dulles and other high-ranking officials continued, and it sent ambiguous messages to the populations of the Eastern bloc nations. These ambiguous messages had disastrous results in Hungary, where the people expected more support from the United States once their revolution had begun.^xxx

Because of both the affirmation from the report prepared by Georgetown that fostering a resistance movement in Hungary via covert means was untenable and the ambivalence of the Eisenhower administration towards the liberation of the Eastern European states, the United States was, in a sense, caught with its pants down when shots erupted in Budapest. American strategic planners had been completely unprepared for the possibility of armed rebellion and street fighting against the regime, and the ferocity of the rebellion quickly caught Moscow’s attention. On the night of the outbreak, the Soviet Presidium held an emergency meeting. Marshal Georgy Zhukov, then Soviet Minister of Defense, delivered the following assessment of the situation in Hungary: “A demonstration by 100 thous. in Budapest; the radio station is on fire.” All members of the Presidium except Anastas Mikoyan, Minister of Foreign Trade, approved of Khrushchev’s suggestion to send troops to put down the uprising.^xxxi The next day, on October 24, Soviet tanks were blockading the streets of Budapest.^xxxii Eisenhower was quick to denounce Soviet intervention, and he expressed sympathy for the Hungarian people. On October 26, the NSC was convened to formulate a strategy to forestall a major Soviet crackdown. The U.S. decided to attempt to negotiate a settlement, knowing that its own options were limited. The arrangement called for a neutral state, along the lines of Austria or Finland, to be established in Hungary.^xxxiii From the start, Eisenhower ruled out military intervention in support of the rebels, and even ruled out a CIA proposal to covertly drop arms and supplies into Hungary.^xxxiv American officials, along with the British and French, had brought the issue before the United Nations Security Council on October 28. On October 29, however, much to the dismay of the American government, hostilities broke out on the Sinai peninsula at Suez. The British and French joined the conflict, to the chagrin of the Americans, on October 31, and moved for the issue of Hungary to be presented to a special session of the UN General Assembly which would cover both crises.^xxxv The Americans blocked their efforts, however, and both crises remained on the Security Council’s agenda.

The U.S. was confident that its negotiation strategy was proving successful: on October 30, Marshal Zhukov spoke in favor of withdrawing Soviet troops from Hungary.^xxxvi Convinced that the threat of a Soviet crackdown was averted, the Eisenhower administration focused on the pressing Suez Crisis. French and British actions behind the scenes of Suez had infuriated Dulles: “Just when the Soviet orbit was crumbling and we could point to a contrast between the Western world and the Soviets, it appeared the West was producing a similar situation.”^xxxvii On November 1, just as the focus was shifting towards Suez, the Soviets reversed their previous decision. Negotiations between the Soviets and Nagy had proven fruitful, and an agreement had been reached both for the independence of Hungary and the removal of Soviet troops, as encouraged by the United States.^xxxviii The Soviets, however, reversed this agreement days later, just as life was returning to normal in Budapest. The Soviets were concerned that, if the Hungarians were to leave the Warsaw Pact, as Nagy intended, what would keep the Czechs or Poles in line?^xxxix Nagy had essentially forced the Soviets’ hand, and on November 4, 1956, the second Soviet intervention began. The first intervention had been relatively small, and was carried out by troops already stationed in Hungary; the second was an outright invasion.^xl With a flick of its paw, the Russian bear was able to crush the revolution and install a new regime under Janos Kadar.

Throughout the crisis, American rhetoric had encouraged the Hungarian rebels to continue fighting for their freedom. This was the tragic side effect of America’s “liberation” propaganda: while the U.S. government assured the world that it was committed to the goal of an independent Central and Eastern Europe, it did not publicly advertise the fact that it was not committed enough to risk a military engagement with the Soviets. The rhetoric, however, convinced the fighters on the ground otherwise.^xli The crisis, as it developed prior to the second Soviet intervention, was in some ways exacerbated by Western influences such as the Voice of America and Radio Free Europe, which delivered messages of encouragement to the fighters. A survey of fleeing refugees in 1957 indicated that one-half of U.S.-bound refugees expected American intervention on behalf of the rebels because of the content broadcast over the radio.^xlii American officials, however, were well aware of the fact that the Hungarians, without some sort of cease-fire or compromise, were fighting a suicidal battle. No effort was made to suggest to the Hungarians that Dulles felt they did not have a chance; even after the second invasion on November 4, the RFE and VOA broadcasts urged the rebels forward.^xliii

After the Soviet invasion on November 4, American diplomatic circles still did not yet count themselves out of the Hungarian crisis. A telegram from the American Ambassdor to Italy, Clare Boothe Luce, was forwarded through the U.S. Embassy in Paris to President Eisenhower. In it, Luce made a passionate plea for Eisenhower to make some sort of public move in support of the Hungarians, making the following comparison: “Franco-British action on Suez is a small wound to their prestige but American inaction about Hungary could be a fatal wound to ours.”^xliv In a move mirroring the previous attempt by the French and British, U.S. Ambassador to the UN Henry Cabot Lodge unilaterally submitted a draft resolution to the General Assembly to condemn the Soviet actions in Hungary, thus circumventing the Soviet veto on the Security Council.^xlv By this time, however, the Suez crisis had put the United States in a remarkably awkward position. Richard Nixon explained after the conflict: “We couldn’t, on one hand, complain about the Soviets intervening in Hungary and, on the other hand, approve of the British and the French picking that particular time to intervene against Nasser.”^xlvi Eisenhower very boldly ordered the French, British, and Israelis to withdraw from Egypt, both to distance the United States from a blatant imperial power-play and to try to refocus world attention on Hungary.^xlvii He also had to prevent the Soviets from threatening intervention in the Middle East, and to do so he invoked the Soviet invasion of Hungary. On November 5, the Soviets offered that the United States and Soviet Union join forces to put an end to the Suez Crisis. The implied threat in the rejection of this scheme, which the Soviets surely expected, was unilateral intervention by the Soviets.^xlviii Eisenhower instead issued a public statement that asked the states of the Middle East: “Do you want the Soviets in the Middle East doing what they are now doing in Hungary?” The statement committed the United States to maintaining the United Nations mandate, and implicitly threatened the Soviets that any unilateral action over Suez would not be tolerated. That evening he asked for a preliminary consultation with congressional leaders in case he was forced to ask Congress for a declaration of war, and the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean was put on full alert.^xlix This all occurred on the eve of the 1956 U.S. Presidential election; the Hungarian Revolution was effectively crushed, but tensions had reached a record high. On November 7, amid Eisenhower’s landslide victory in the election, a cease-fire in Suez was declared, and fears of Soviet intervention began to fade.^l The UN General Assembly had voted to issue ultimatums to both the Soviets in Hungary and the combatants in Egypt; only in the latter case did the involved parties heed the will of the UN.

Ultimately, the revolution in Hungary was crushed wholly under the Soviet jackboot in an unprecedented display of force. Not since the Second World War had the Red Army’s fury been unleashed in such a monstrous display; at the peak of the invasion on November 4, over 200,000 Soviet troops and 4,000 tanks were streaming into Hungary.^li The United States was ultimately powerless to stop the onslaught with force, considering it lacked sufficient conventional forces in Eastern Europe, as well as the means to transfer said forces to Hungary without violating either Czechoslovak territory or Austrian neutrality. Additionally, Eisenhower was, wisely, unwilling to risk a military confrontation with the Soviets, especially a nuclear exchange. The remarkable violence which the Soviets used to suppress the uprising showed the United States firsthand the lengths that the Soviet Union would go to preserve its hegemony in Eastern Europe. This realization, combined with Eisenhower’s ultimate inaction in Hungary, effectively hammered the last nail in the coffin of rollback doctrine: the doctrine of liberation proved to be a “deadly sham.”^lii Although actual military intervention had been ruled out from the start, liberation of the Eastern European states was abandoned as an ultimate strategic goal. The invasion of Hungary by the Soviet Union, and the refusal of the West to involve itself more heavily beyond rhetoric, also caused many to come to the realization that, despite common illusions, a system of Eastern and Western spheres of interest, based on the acceptance of a post-war settlement, did exist, and was in practice.^liii While the Suez Crisis threatened the cohesion of the North Atlantic Alliance, the brutality of the Soviet response also legitimized the need for it. NATO was founded to counter Soviet aggression in Europe, and while Hungary was, ostensibly, already within the Soviet sphere of influence, the Soviet assault was the realization of the aggression that NATO feared. The Soviet Presidium acknowledged this: Matvei Saburov reminded his colleagues during the deliberations to renew the assault on Hungary that action against the rebellion would “vindicate NATO.”^liv It became obvious to the NATO powers that the Soviets would not be leaving Europe anytime soon, and that significant changes in Eastern European regimes were contingent upon significant changes within the Soviet ruling establishment. This would prove true come 1989, when Gorbachev’s release of the satellites resulted in the fall of each of their Communist governments. Until that time, however, the United States used the lessons it learned in 1956 to commit itself to implementing containment worldwide. The invasion of Hungary confirmed that the Soviet threat to Europe was real, and fundamentally changed the outlook of the United States when encouraging dissidence in Soviet satellites. From 1956 onward, the United States was consciously aware of the violence the Soviets were willing to perpetrate as the memories of Hungary lingered on the West’s conscience.

 

i Robert Griffith and Paula Baker, Major Problems in American History Since 1945 (Boston: Wadsworth, 2007), 39-42

ii Ibid., 51-54

iii Ibid., 52

iv John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War: A New History (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 68

v Vladislav Zubok, A Failed Empire (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 94

vi Paul Zinner, Revolution in Hungary (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), 239-240

vii Paul Kecskemeti, The Unexpected Revolution (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1961), 18-19

viii Ibid., 40

ix Ibid., 142-143

x Tibor Meray, Thirteen Days that Shook the Kremlin, trans. Howard Katzander(New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Inc., 1959), 17

x iIbid., 21

xii Ibid., 28-29

xiii Ibid., 32

xiv Zinner, 203

xv Ibid., 214-215

xvi Meray, 60-61

xvii Ibid., 80-82

xviii Ibid., 87-91

xix Hungary: Resistance Activities and Potentials, Project No. 9570, prepared by Georgetown University, 5 January 1956, 3
<http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB76/doc1.pdf&gt;

xx Ibid., 5

xxi Ibid., 4

xxii Ibid., 11

xxiii Ibid., 23-24

xxiv Minutes of 290^th NSC meeting, July 12, 1956, 12 July 1956, 2
<http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB76/doc2.pdf&gt;

xxv Ibid., 4

xxvi Ibid., 4

xxvii Laszlo Borhi, “Rollback, Liberation, Containment, or Inaction? U.S. Policy and Eastern Europe in the 1950s,” Journal of Cold War Studies, no. 1.3(1999), 88-89

xxviii Ibid., 69-71

xxix Ibid., 89

xxx Ibid., 90

xxxi Working Notes from the Session of the CPSU CC Presidium on 23 October 1956, 23 October 1956, Wilson Center Cold War International History Project, 1956 Hungarian Revolution Collection

xxxii Meray, 96-98

xxxiii Borhi, 98-100

xxxiv John Patrick Diggins, The Proud Decades (New York: W. W. Norton, 1989), 302

xxxv Csaba Bekes, “The Hungarian Question on the UN Agenda,” Hungarian Quarterly (Spring 2000)

xxxvi Borhi, 100

xxxvii Ibid., 101

xxxviii Meray, 160-161

xxxix Ibid., 198-199

xl Ibid., 236-237

xli Ibid., 115-116

xlii Borhi, 81

xliii Ibid., 109

xliv Clare Boothe Luce, Telegram From the Embassy in France to the Department of State, 4 November 1956
<http://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1955-57v25/d165&gt;

xlv Csaba Bekes, “The 1956 Hungarian Revolution and World Politics,” Wilson Center CWIHP Working Paper No. 16, 23
<http://www.wilsoncenter.org/sites/default/files/ACFB4E.pdf&gt;

xlvi Borhi, 105

xlvii Wm. Roger Louis, “Dulles, Suez, and the British,” John Foster Dulles and the Diplomacy of the Cold War, ed. Richard Immerman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 135

xlviii David A. Nichols, Eisenhower 1956 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2011), 245

xlix Ibid., 246

l Ibid., 258-289

li Ibid., 239

lii Diggins, 302

liii Bekes (CWIHP), 6

liv Zubok, 117

Russian Foreign Policy: Afghanistan

The Russian Federation has a troubled history with Afghanistan, perhaps most notably the blundered invasion perpetrated during the Soviet Era that saw the Soviet war machine get bogged down in a nation which has destroyed countless empires throughout history. Considering this past, contemporary Russian foreign policy regarding Afghanistan in the post-Soviet era is one of the rare instances where Russian policy goals roughly overlap with the goals of Russia’s counterparts in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Because of the overlap in interests, Russia has pursued a tentative and limited strategic “partnership” with the North Atlantic alliance in support of the alliance’s efforts in Afghanistan. While the overlap in goals is not entire nor complete, and there are, as always, tensions and disagreements, the Russian government acknowledges that NATO’s efforts to pacify the situation in Afghanistan and establish regional stability are, ultimately, within Russia’s interests.

Use of the word “partnership” may be debatable, however presently the Russian Federation, as of an agreement made in Bucharest in April 2008, permits the transit of supplies for ISAF and NATO forces in Afghanistan through Russian territory by road, rail, or air transit.¹ The cargo is limited to non-lethal materiel only: mostly commercial goods and other relief supplies intended for troops and for humanitarian purposes, but the route is critical to NATO’s supply lines nonetheless. More recently, in March 2012, a proposal was made to lease an airbase in the city of Ulyanovsk for use in NATO’s logistical supply lines. While materiel is currently permitted to traverse through Russian territory, the lease would be the first instance of an actual NATO base on Russian soil.² The Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs later rebuffed accusations that it was permitting a NATO military presence on Russian territory, stressing that the agreement would only permit civilian infrastructure, goods, and storehouses to be used in the transit of non-lethal goods to the Afghan theater of operations.³ In the same memo, however, the Russian government clarified that separate, bilateral agreements with the United States, Germany, France, Spain, Italy, and Sweden were being actively implemented to permit the transit of arms, personnel, and other military-type cargoes through Russian territory by air. The nature of these bi-lateral agreements, and how they are downplayed alongside a deal with NATO, illustrates the delicate political position that the Russian government is in regarding cooperation with NATO states.

According to an article published by Reuters, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov was quoted as saying that these moves towards closer ties and cooperation were being pursued “within the Russian national interest.” According to Lavrov, there are two things at the top of his agenda when dealing with Afghanistan: drugs and terrorism.⁴ In the same article, Lavrov went on to discuss the proposed 2014 ISAF withdrawal from Afghanistan: a date he feels is premature. Lavrov clarified that he believes NATO withdrawing prematurely from Afghanistan would leave a “security vacuum” near Russia’s border, in a region where the Soviet Union fought a bloody conflict from 1979 to 1989 and lost 15,000 of its sons⁵ (a specter which still haunts Moscow to this day). Because of this, Russia’s tentative yet vocal support for the coalition forces working in Afghanistan works to Moscow’s benefit: the Russians are able to reap the rewards of a stable and secure southern border without exerting effort (nor expending young lives) toward that goal.

Of course, there is a tradeoff. Initially, when the conflict in Afghanistan started in 2001, Russia was hesitant and wary towards the activities below its southern border and within its sphere of influence. Particularly, United States involvement in the region has caused the United States to form partnerships and alliances with nations such as Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan: nations traditionally seen as well within the Russian sphere of influence.⁶ The erosion of its influence from the Soviet era is something Moscow has experienced in the past, such as with the accession to NATO of various post-Communist states, but it is also something that Moscow will never entirely get used to nor come to terms with. Despite this, Russia has little choice in accepting further erosion of its influence: if Russia would prefer to continue not having to devote its own forces to the security of the region, it will have to continue to accept the United States and NATO being involved in its backyard.

Russia has even tacitly acknowledged the fact that NATO involvement is within its interests, however with a large slant towards its own agenda. In 2011, current Deputy Premier and then-Russian ambassador to NATO Dmitry Rogozin said to the French newspaper Le Figaro: “We don’t want NATO to go and leave us to face the jackals of war after stirring up the anthill. Immediately after the NATO withdrawal, they will expand towards Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, and it will become our problem then.”⁷ The Russian government fears that, following the withdrawal of NATO troops, the new government in Afghanistan will be laden with former-Taliban extremists. Russia has had painful experiences in recent memory regarding Islamic terrorism and extremism, considering the conflicts in Chechnya and the various subway and airport terminal bombings which were borne of that war. The Russians are rightfully wary of an unstable and potentially extremist-laden Afghan government straddling its southern sphere of influence. Foreign Minister Lavrov addressed the issue of premature withdrawal more recently in an interview in March of 2012 with TOLOnews, stating that it is imperative that NATO “report to the [UN] Security Council that the mandate has been fulfilled,” saying that it is illogical for NATO to begin making plans to withdraw now.⁸ “I don’t think the job has been done,” he responded when asked if he felt that the goals of the American-led mission in Afghanistan had been met. “It’s clear that trouble continues in Afghanistan and terrorist attacks do not subsided. [sic]”⁹ According to a Russian Foreign Ministry press release dated 5 April 2012, Afghanistan is a major topic of discussion at an upcoming meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs of the Collective Security Treaty Organization in Astana. The issue of peacekeeping capabilities is also a major point on the agenda of the meeting, suggesting that the Russian government is perhaps preparing for a near-future scenario where they will have to commit troops to preserving stability in the region with the absence of NATO forces.

The Russian government, while urging NATO forces to not leave the region prematurely, has also been vocal in declaring NATO efforts to curb drug production and trafficking as ineffective. About 25% of all heroin produced in Afghanistan travels through Russia and into Europe. Additionally, roughly 10% of Afghanistan’s gross economic output is estimated to be from opium poppy cultivation.¹⁰ Russia, however, does cooperate with NATO and US efforts in fighting narcotics trafficking in the region, and a joint US-Russia task force exists for that specific purpose. Even so, it is within Russia’s long-term interests to continue hounding NATO on its lackluster performance in fighting the narcotics trade: considering the Taliban makes much of its revenue from drug trafficking, Russia can use the continuing drug problem in Afghanistan as political leverage to assert that the NATO mission in Afghanistan is incomplete and the mandate unfulfilled.

Although Russia cooperates with NATO and ISAF loosely on Afghanistan, its ultimate policy goal is, as always, different. In 2010, Mr. Rogozin announced in his duties as Ambassador to NATO that Afghanistan, following the eventual withdrawal of coalition forces, should be a “neutral state.” The statement coincided with talk about a possible premature withdrawal due to the leak of 90,000 classified documents by the website WikiLeaks.¹¹ As mentioned, the Russian government chafes at the idea of its sphere of influence eroding. Considering the proximity to Russia of Afghanistan, a stable and independent Afghanistan would, for the Russians, ideally be “neutral” (but preferably, for Moscow, slant towards the Russian side of the table). It shows that despite cooperation and similar goals, the Russians still, as always, have a not-so-hidden agenda of their own.

Endnotes

1Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, “Response of A.K. Lukashevich, Official Representative of MFA of Russia, to Media Question Regarding Schemes of Transit of NATO Cargos from Afghanistan through Russian Territory,” 15 Mar 2012

2Astrasheuskaya N., Reuters, “Russia may give NATO a base for supply runs,” 14 March 2012

3Russian MFA, “Information and Press Department of MFA of Russia Comments upon Kirghiz Mass Media Publications on Procedure of NATO Cargo Transit from Afghanistan Through Ulyanovsk Airport,” 22 March 2012

4Astrasheuskaya N.

5Ibid.

6Kucera J., The Diplomat, “Why Russia Fears US Afghan Plan,” 18 October 2011

7Ibid.

8Russian MFA, “Exclusive Interview with Russia’s Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov to TOLOnews,” 18 March 2012

9Ibid.

10Zakaria F., CNN Global Public Square, “The U.S., Russia, Afghanistan – and drugs,” 14 March 2012

11The Permanent Mission of Russia to NATO, “Afghanistan should be neutral,” 30 July 2010

Top-Down Revolution: The Buildup to the Invasion of Czechoslovakia

[This is a primary-source analysis/research piece I wrote for my Cold War history class this past semester. The subject was a series of declassified Soviet communiques regarding the invasion of Czechoslovakia. I could have written much more as there were quite a few documents I didn’t get a chance to cover, but I was limited to seven pages in print. I may revisit it for fun at a later date.]

January 1968 brought a breath of fresh air to the Czech and Slovak peoples as it marked the election of Alexander Dubček as First Secretary of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia. Dubček announced his intentions to move along with extensive reforms within Czechoslovakia. These reforms brought about what was to be known as the Prague Spring, where Dubček’s government attempted to implement a policy he termed as “socialism with a human face.” The ultimate intended result of the Prague Spring was to be a moderate liberalization of political life in Czechoslovakia, as well as a decentralization of power from Prague. The news was very well received with the Czechoslovak people, as well as with reformist and intellectual elements within the Czechoslovak Communist Party. Dubček, who had been seen as a compromise upon which both reformist and more orthodox party members could agree, was proving himself to be an effective force of change within Czechoslovakia. It is well known, however, how the Prague Spring ultimately ended: on an August night the armies of the Warsaw Pact surged across their borders to “help” the Czechoslovakians suppress subversive elements. The invasion resulted from a buildup of distrust and disapproval from the Soviet hegemon and her satellites: the Prague Spring was the largest threat to Soviet authority east of the Iron Curtain since the Hungarian Revolution of 1956. The reality of that threat was the fact that unlike the Hungarian Revolution, the Prague Spring was a revolution from the top down: it was initiated by the Communist Party in Czechoslovakia. Because of this, it shook the legitimacy of the Soviet government along with its other satellites, which feared that liberalization in Czechoslovakia would lead to similar demands in their own nations. The buildup of tensions is apparent in a collection of declassified documents published by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in its Cold War International History Project’s Digital Archive. This collection of documents, ranging from the end of February 1968 up until the autumn after the invasion, is a series of reports and correspondences, mostly from within the Ukrainian wing of the Soviet Communist Party, discussing the events in Czechoslovakia. The documents dealing with the lead up to the invasion, from February until the night of the invasion, show firsthand the paranoia exhibited on the part of the powers that were in control in the face of what they saw as a direct challenge to their authority and ability to rule.

The first of the documents, dated 28 February 1968, is a short correspondence from Petro Shelest, First Secretary of the Communist Party in the Ukrainian SSR, to the CPSU Central Committee. In it, Shelest reports that an “unknown person” who identified himself as a Czech diplomat from the consulate in Kiev, in a drunken state, struck up a conversation with two Soviet train conductors about the Soviet hockey team. He “asserted that Soviet hockey players do not know how to play and will lose again next year, all things being equal.”¹ The translator notes underneath that the hockey rivalry between the USSR and CSSR often took on a nationalistic or political overtone, as evidenced by the “diplomat’s” next statement: “…The Czechs would be better off doing business with the West than with the Soviet Union. The Soviet people have us by the neck. … You Communists are worse than the imperialists.”² The man was confirmed to be the Czechoslovak Consul-General in Kiev, Josef Gorak, who was a frequent recipient of Shelest’s criticism.

This example was only the first event which foreshadowed future troubles in Czechoslovakia’s relations with its Communist brethren, despite Dubček’s best efforts to stay in their favor. On March 18, 1968, Secretary of the Ukrainian Transcarpathian Oblast Yuri Ilnytskyi met with Jan Koscelanský, First Secretary of the KSC’s East Slovakia regional committee, one-on-one at the Ukrainian-Czechoslovak border. Koscelanský described to him the troubles within the KSC’s Central Committee, where “sharp criticism was directed against the old methods of leadership, which had given rise to a cult of Novotny.” The report explains that the Czechs under Dubček sought to establish “free” (but still single party) democracy and eliminate censorship and repression within the CSSR.³ These revelations likely alarmed the central Soviet party apparatus, whose power would have been threatened by such reforms in a neighboring Communist country. Koscelanský had to assure Ilnytskyi that it was “not a repetition of the events of 1956 in Hungary,” because the reforms were instituted by the KSC Central Committee, rather than through a popular uprising against the Party: he clarified that the masses supported the Party in instituting reforms. Koscelanský, however, also felt the need to emphasize that, “beginning with Comrade Dubček and going through every rank-and-file Communist, they will do everything possible to strengthen friendship with the Soviet Union and to advance the cause of socialism on the basis of the principles of Marxism-Leninism.”⁴ Koscelanský appeared to try to placate Soviet concerns over the reforms within his country by playing up the CSSR’s friendship with the USSR: he could doubtlessly see for himself the growing dilemma that his country was finding itself in.

Josef Gorak, meanwhile, was again immortalized in official Soviet records as he had a meeting on April 23 with B. Baklanov, Third Secretary of the Ukrainian Foreign Ministry. During the conversation, the Consul-General played up his relationship with Dubček, and mentioned that he (Gorak) was to take over as head of the Soviet Department in the CSSR Foreign Ministry.⁵ This likely did not bode well for the perception of Comrade Dubček in Moscow, considering Shelest’s previous report on Gorak’s drunken encounter with two train conductors. During their conversation, Gorak further told Baklanov that the KSC would be adopting a similar outlook as the Italian and French Communist parties, as the CSSR wished to assume leadership of the industrialized, Central European Communist countries, which were closer culturally to the Western nations.⁶

A report delivered at the April Plenum of the CPSU on the 25^th of April, 1968 by Petro Shelest offered a bleak view of the events occurring in Czechoslovakia, and concurrently offered several scapegoats on which to place blame. The section regarding Czechoslovakia opens: “Comrades! The Communists and all workers of our country are especially alarmed about events in Czechoslovakia and the stepped-up activity of revisionist, Zionist, and anti-socialist forces in that country.”⁷ Shelest blames these elements for being behind a petit bourgeois conspiracy to influence the Czechoslovak leadership to accept, as Shelest puts it, “’unlimited’ democratization.” The language in Shelest’s report tries to paint the situation as one where the Czechoslovak leadership is losing its grip and being misled by a few subversive internal elements, rather than willfully moving towards democracy. As a result, despite a few “negative points,” Shelest points out that Dubček’s public speeches show the KSC leadership understands the “necessity of waging a struggle against anti-socialist forces.”⁸ Shelest’s report then turns its lens towards the West: he accuses the American and West German imperialists of making an effort to destabilize the internal situation in Czechoslovakia by manipulating nationalist sentiments among the Czech and Slovak peoples. He additionally accuses the West of supporting a gradual, step-by-step dismantling of the Communist infrastructure in Czechoslovakia; Shelest suggests that the imperialists learned from Hungary in 1956 that a sudden, violent attack to seize power would not work, and instead were pursuing a policy of gradual, peaceful change.⁹ Shelest closes his report by stating that the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia contains “healthy forces,” and that the task of the Soviet Union is to provide “comprehensive assistance” to these forces in order to thwart the efforts of their imperialist enemies. Shelest’s report is a sign that, relatively early on, elements of the Soviet party apparatus were already finding ways to rationalize future action in the defense of Communism in Czechoslovakia, and it is a thinly veiled attempt to shift the attention, and blame, away from the central party in Czechoslovakia.

Four days later, Yuri Ilnytskyi again met with Koscelanský in a one on one meeting at the border as a follow-up to their previous meeting on March 18. At this meeting, Koscelanský inquired about what had been discussed at the April Plenum of the CPSU Central Committee; Ilnytskyi replied that the Plenum had not specifically discussed Czechoslovakia, but had instead briefly brushed upon problems on the international scene regarding unity in the Communist movement. (The translator notes that this statement is not false, as numerous other issues were discussed at the Plenum; however it must be said that P. Shelest’s April 25^th report delivered at the Plenum suggests a great deal of concern was given to the “subversive elements” at work in the CSSR).¹⁰ Ilnytskyi also reported that Koscelanský discussed developments in Czechoslovakia: mainly that censorship of the press had been totally lifted, and that all leaders within the CSSR were subject to criticism. Ilnytskyi remarks that this is foolish; that he could not imagine why they would allow such “immature people” to spread propaganda.¹¹ At the conclusion of his report, Ilnytskyi declares that, at this meeting, Koscelanský’s behavior had changed: he was no longer as animated or lively. Ilnytskyi cited that he believed Koscelanský, as one of the original proponents of the reforms, had lost faith in how they were being carried out as the CSSR appeared to be drifting more “to the right;” it appears Ilnytskyi was trying to absolve Koscelanský of some of the responsibility for what seemed like the eventual collapse of Czechoslovak Communism.

May was a busy month for the Ukrainian Soviets. On May 12^th, Ilnytskyi filed a report regarding the Czechoslovak media to the CPSU CC.¹² In it he described a few items he found troubling: the border between West Germany and Czechoslovakia was opened to tourists (who Ilnytskyi referred to as spies, and accused of bringing anti-socialist ideas across the border). Another main point he discusses is, with the lifting of censorship, the Czechoslovak press is reporting on unsavory truths within the CSSR (and, more importantly, within other Communist nations: the Czechoslovak press criticized the weak points of Soviet tank production and released relevant technical data).¹³ A report filed on the seventeenth of May suggested that, much as they may criticize the handling of the German-Czechoslovak border, the Ukrainians had problems of their own. V. Nikitchenko, Chairman of the Committee on State Security under the Ukrainian SSR, cited “the growing influx of foreigners from capitalist countries” and the “opening of new routes for tourists in automobiles” in a list of matters which required greater attention from counterintelligence assets.¹⁴ Nikitchenko’s memorandum requested 208 additional personnel to tackle these issues in the border Oblasts, as the increase in hostile activity was too much for the current staff to keep up with. Five days later, on the 22^nd, KGB Chiefs Ivanov and Kozlov issued a report to Petro Shelest regarding the status of the Czechoslovak-Ukrainian border. The border control checkpoints had been especially busy seizing “ideologically harmful literature:” in the first quarter of 1968, they seized 11,833 items. The previous year they had seized 33,570 items total; four years earlier they had seized 1,500 items total.¹⁵ Shelest cited these statistics in a memorandum to the Politburo dated on the same day, and echoed Nikitchenko’s earlier request by requesting 1,500 additional border patrol personnel for the Western district and 200 additional KGB operational counterintelligence agents.¹⁶ It is apparent here that, with the statistics he cites, Shelest wanted to portray the situation in Czechoslovakia in as negative a light as possible in order to rally support for his cause of securing the border and keeping revolutionary ideas out.

Shelest’s paranoia in the lead up to invasion is also apparent in a series of documents published throughout the rest of May and early June. In them, Shelest requested of the KGB apparatus in Ukraine to report on the activities of the average Ukrainian, as well as his reaction to the events unfolding in the CSSR. The first of these reports is basically gossip collected by both common people residing in the Ukraine and, in the case of the last two examples, statements overheard from Soviet citizens visiting the CSSR. The individuals cited in the first report range from all different professions and ethnic backgrounds: school teachers, factory workers; even a dentist is quoted (it is also specified that said dentist, Jozef Ida-Mois, is a Jew and non-member of the Party).¹⁷ Shelest’s interest in the opinions of common folk on the matter, while hardly out of the ordinary in a totalitarian state, is important: considering the concern he had shown towards the situation in the CSSR, Shelest had an interest in keeping the popular sentiments sweeping Czechoslovakia from sweeping his own jurisdiction. Two subsequent reports outline the reactions to the situation by Soviet citizens visiting the CSSR. On May 30, a report was published by Shelest on the activities of Ukrainian journalists who visited the CSSR on a goodwill tour, who reported encountering widespread anti-Soviet sentiments and shocking displays of anti-socialist behaviors.¹⁸ The second report was published on the fourth of June, and described a group of Soviet workers who participated in an exchange with the CSSR, and encountered locals who described the situation as having gotten worse with time, rather than better.¹⁹

The latter two reports are, more than likely, selective reports of what Shelest wanted to portray: a country in distress, and in need of assistance. It is easy to draw conclusions about Shelest’s intentions from the reports he published, conclusions which could not be drawn from a secondary source: his antipathy towards the reform movement in the CSSR was readily apparent, as was his concern that the movement could spread to his own domain. Fear of losing power, along with losing a valuable ally and buffer in the struggle against the West, pushed Shelest and the other officials within the Soviet Union to work against the tide of reform in Prague. This series of documents illuminates the causes of the Soviet invasion by providing a window through which to peer directly into the internal structures and workings of the CPSU: a perspective a history textbook or second-hand account could not provide. By examining these reports sequentially, the documents in this collection can be strung together in a way that shows the causal links leading up to the ultimate decision to roll back Dubček’s Spring.

Endnotes

1 P. Shelest, Note from P. Shelest to CPSU Central Committee (28 Feb 1968), Wilson Center Cold War International History Project, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

2 Ibid.

3 Yu. Il’nyts’kyi, Memorandum from the Secretary of the Transcarpathian Oblast, Ukrainian CP about tensions in Czechoslovakia (21 Mar 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

4 Ibid.

5B. Baklanov, Conversation with the Consul-General of the CSSR in Kyiv, J. Gorak (23 Apr 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

6 Ibid.

7 P. Shelest, Report by P. Shelest on the April 1968 Plenum of the CC CPSU (25 Apr 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

8 Ibid.

9 Ibid.

10 Yu. Il’nyts’kyi, Transcarpathian Oblast First Secretary Yu. Il’Nyts’Kyi’s Report to P. Shelest (5 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

11 Ibid.

12 Yu. Il’nyts’kyi, Yu. Il’Nyts’Kyi Reports on Items from the Czechoslovak Media (12 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

13 Ibid.

14 V. Nikitchenko, A Memorandum to the Ukrainian Committee on State Security Regarding Counterintelligence Difficulties (17 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

15 KGB Chiefs Ivanov and Kozlov, KGB Border Report to P. Shelest (22 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

16 P. Shelest, Memorandum to CPSU Politburo on Western District Border Controls (22 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

17 A. Zhabchenko, Summation of Informers from the Transcarpathian Oblast, Ukrainian SSR (25 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

18 P. Shelest, Report on Statements by Ukrainian Journalists in the CSSR (30 May 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

19 V. Shcherbytskyi, Report on the Trip by a Delegation of Soviet Workers to the CSSR (6 Jun 1968), Wilson Center CWIHP, Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia Collection

Power Players in the Promised Land

[This was my final for my Arab-Israeli conflict class last semester; I figured it was about time to post it here since its been a while since I’ve posted anything. It was something I actually really enjoyed writing, since I didn’t know much of anything about the conflict when going into the class. I find it absolutely fascinating now.]

As Aaron David Miller states in the opening of The Much Too Promised Land, promises have been made by four different parties over the course of history regarding Palestine: first by God, second the British, third the United Nations; fourth the United States. While disputing the validity of the first party would be better suited for a theological discussion, the latter three parties are of particular historic interest when examining the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is not only these three parties which are of interest in the greater conflict, but a whole cast of actors in a play where the Palestinians and Israelis take center stage. Some played more minor roles than others; some played villains and some heroes depending on one’s outlook on the conflict. And still, those characters proved to be so dynamic that, in the eyes of some, they often swapped sides between “good” and “evil.” The British were the single major player throughout much of the first half of the 20th century, the United Nations filled a relatively minor supporting role where it said much and did little; the United States is the newest major player in the search for a resolution to the conflict. Along the way have been the various Arab states and their antagonistic policies towards the Israelis, French policies backing the British; even the waning Ottoman Empire made an appearance. All of these actors have had interests in Palestine, and all of them have attempted to exercise those interests. The next few pages shall discuss these parties, their interests, the means through which they attempted to implement those interests, and their successes and failures in implementing said interests. Perhaps it would be bold of me to say that it is all quite ‘interesting.’
In the early days of the Palestinian conflict, before there was a true conflict, there were two  facts known: there were Arabs in Palestine, and Jews in Europe. Avi Shlaim describes the situation in the opening of The Iron Wall: “The Zionist movement, which emerged in Europe in the last two decades of the nineteenth century, aimed at the national revival of the Jewish people in its ancestral home after nearly 2000 years in exile.” This “Zionism” found its roots in Europe for two reasons: much of the diaspora had settled in Europe following the sack of Jerusalem at the hands of Titus, and their time spent living in Europe had been made “uncomfortable” by European leaders. On the opposite side of the stage, in the Promised Land itself, the star playing opposite the Zionists entered. As Morris states in Righteous Victims, Zionism had a twenty-five year head start on Palestinian-Arab Nationalism, which was developing in the latter half of the nineteenth century in opposition to the Ottomans. While, as Morris points out, the Arabs were loyal to the Islamic polity of the Ottoman Empire, many desired political distance. These feelings strengthened in 1877 when St. Petersburg declared war on Istanbul. Many Arab conscripts died in the war, which ultimately led to Ottoman defeat, and further alienated the Turks from Arabs. During this period, ups and downs would occur in Arab nationalism, and the first Aliyah (also influenced by Russia, but through pogroms) would bring thousands of Zionist settlers to the region. Morris points out in Victims that, although many returned to Russia or headed West, between 1881 and 1903 roughly 20,000 to 30,000 Jews made the journey to Palestine. At the dawn of the twentieth century, the stage had been set for the two principal actors in the drama. Their objectives were clear: the Zionists wanted a state in Palestine; the Palestinians had similar ambitions. Neither would deviate from these goals. It was time for the first of the major supporting cast members to enter in the throes of the Great War.

Two fateful shots fired in Sarajevo in June 1914 plunged the world into a war the scale of which had not yet been seen. While the First World War would be fought primarily on the fields of France, it would forever change the face of the Middle East. In November of 1914, the Ottomans threw their lot in with the Germans in the Central Powers’ struggle against the Allies, and the British, who Morris points out had previously worked towards maintaining the status quo in the Middle East to prevent other imperial powers from gaining where the Ottomans would lose, now felt that their own interests were at risk. The war would see the British deal duplicitously with various parties in the region during their struggle against the Ottomans, as they would make dealings and promises with both groups on the Arabian peninsula as well as Zionist influences within Britain. As Morris explains, it was the Suez Canal which made the British especially fearful for their imperial possessions. Once Turkey had been taken care of, however, Britain had another concern: containing Russian imperial interests. The British turned to the local Arab populations, first, who in 1915 finally managed to convince the British to support an Arab revolt against the Ottomans. The Arabs, of course, sought independence from the Ottomans; the British would perhaps grant them “autonomy under British tutelage.” Finally, in November 1915, the approximate shape of the interbellum Middle East was formed with the entry of Britain’s lesser accomplice to the drama in Palestine: France. François Georges-Picot and Sir Mark Sykes would meet in relative secret until, in 1916, an agreement divided the Middle East into two zones of influence between them. French interests were straightforward: secure influence, and solidify France’s political power in the region. Britain’s intentions, meanwhile, were similar, but took on a different aspect as the Zionist lobby gained clout within Whitehall. Chaim Weizmann in particular, Shlaim states, was crucial in winning over the British to the Zionist cause. Weizmann played off of both the British interests in having a friendly nation in the region (mainly to protect trade routes through the Suez), but also played off of British values. The fact that he wore a suit and tie rather than robes and sandals perhaps also made him more tolerable for the British. Regardless, in November 1917 Weizmann’s efforts bore fruit as His Majesty’s Government’s Foreign Secretary Arthur Balfour issued his famous declaration. The waning hours of the Ottoman Empire finally past, it was time for Palestine to fall into the hands of a power even further removed than Istanbul: London.

Immediately following the war, Arabic reactions to the Balfour Declaration were “disapproving” at best. In 1919, the “Syrian Arab Congress” convened under Faisal I, and declared its opposition to Zionism and the settlement of Palestine. Britain and France together waved off the declaration from Faisal, and the Zionists were permitted to continue their settlement by the British as they laid the groundwork for their eventual “commonwealth.” Violence between the Arabs and Zionists was largely averted during this early period; Morris specifically cites the annual Nabi Musa celebrations, where anti-Zionist sentiments ran rampant. Violence in this particular case, and overall, was prevented by precautions taken by the British military. It was finally in July of 1922 that the British were officially granted their Mandate by the League of Nations over Palestine. The Mandate included the entire text of the Balfour Declaration, and specifically outlined that it was “the Mandatory power’s duty” to facilitate the Jewish people’s establishment of institutions. It was during this period that Khalidi points to the Palestinians prodding the British for self determination and national institutions similar to those being developed for the Jews; they cited Wilson’s fourteen points as the basis of their claims. Their pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears, as each time they asked they were told to accept the Mandate and their status within its framework. This is the Iron Cage which Khalidi describes in the title of his book: the Palestinians were denied their political rights, unless they accepted a charter which granted them no political rights. In order to maintain control over the country, Khalidi adds, the British, unlike in other regions where they utilized local rulers to carry out their policies, maintained direct control over the Mandate. The Jews were granted autonomy within this Mandate, and even had diplomatic representation through the Jewish Agency; the Arabs had no such thing. While the British were not entirely malevolent here, they did little to help.

British control led to erratic governance, where Whitehall and Westminster were detached from the daily policy making, and such policies were left to local officers to make. The result was a period of flip-flopping, between pandering to the Zionists and sympathy towards the Arabs, by the Mandatory authority. The Arabs gradually grew weary of the situation, and in 1936 took up arms. This first revolt was especially long and bloody, and led to sporadic periods of violence. Bickering between the Arabs and Jews climaxed by 1939, when a rebellion claimed the lives of nearly 100 Jews and over 400 Arabs. Britain, growing weary of the cost of the conflict, issued the White Paper of 1939 in May under Chamberlain’s government. The White Paper represented an absolute about-face in British policy, as their interests changed from assisting the Jews to merely appeasing the Arabs to end the violence: it limited immigration, halted Jews from buying land; among other restrictions. The Zionists were outraged, and revisionist elements in particular (namely Haganah, a paramilitary organization of the time) began a guerrilla war against the British. Even so, antipathy towards the British was short-lived: worldwide war was imminent once again, and this time it would have special significance for not only the Zionists, but Jews everywhere. On September 1st, 1939, German tanks rolled into Poland. On September 3rd, 1939, Britain declared war on Germany. The world was yet again plunged into war, this one more destructive than the previous. The same day as the British declaration of war, the Jewish Agency declared its allegiance to the British. During the war, however, a campaign of illegal immigration by Jews into Palestine was undertaken in opposition to the standards established by the 1939 White Paper. Although the British were harsh in punishing it, the status-quo of the White Paper was only kept in place to keep the Arabs complacent, even after the German threat to the Middle East was eliminated. When Churchill came to the Premiership, he set to work filling his councils with pro-Zionists in preparation for the post-war period. As it turned out, he likely did not need to do so, as the Germans had succeeded in making the strongest case yet for the establishment of a Jewish state: the “greatest pogrom of all time,” the Holocaust.

In 1947, the British washed their hands of Palestine. It was now the infant United Nations’ turn to take charge in finding a solution. On November 29th, 1947, the United Nations General Assembly voted in favor of a partition resolution, a solution ruled out by the 1939 White Paper. The land was to be divided between the Jews and the Arabs, with the Jews receiving more land but mostly in the desert. It was seen as the best means for peace, which was among the UN’s only objectives. Morris points out that the resolution passed by a slim margin, but more interesting was the fact that Britain abstained from the vote. After only a day, though, war came. In the short term, the country was still nominally under the protection of the British, which kept the Arab states at bay. The British did not keep the Palestinians down, though, as the first stage of war, from 1947 to 1948, took the form of a civil war. In five months of fighting, the Jews had dealt crushing blows to Palestinian numbers, military capabilities, and morale. On May 14th, with the British in full withdrawal, the Jews declared themselves as the state of Israel. The second phase of the war, as well as the latter half of the 20th century, began.
The Arab nations had been playing a background role in the conflict for some time; it was now that they would step into the fray as Israel’s main antagonists. From May 15, 1948 until the spring of 1949, hostilities would exist between Israel and its Arab neighbors. The Israelis would use lessons learned in the first stage of the war to excel in combat against the Arab armies. Morris mentions that, in the early days, the British came back for an encore performance, and brought their old friends, the French, and their new friends, the Americans: the three nations executed an arms embargo against the Middle East. The measure devastated Arab supply lines, as they were dependent upon British and French arms imports. The Israelis, meanwhile, had resorted to dealing with private sellers and the Czechs; they had the cash and connections to successfully do so. By 1949, the Arab armies had more or less been crushed, and armistice talks proved fruitful in securing Israel. For the next few decades, wars would be intermittent as Arab goals shifted from the destruction of Israel to saving face; the Americans and Soviets would step in on the sides of Israel and the Arabs, respectively, as battle lines were drawn during the Cold War. Despite this polarized atmosphere, the Americans would take on yet another role; one which would last them into the new millenium as the primary power broker in Palestine.

Despite support for Israel, American interests also played into the peace process. The Suez Crisis in 1956 marked the end of British and French colonial ambitions, and the beginning of the dominance of American and Soviet spheres. As mentioned, the two would go on to oppose each other in the Middle East through their Israeli and Arabic client states, but even so the Americans had a vested interest in a peace process. While America supplied Israel with arms on one hand, it sent diplomats to the region to initiate talks between the Israelis and Arabs. As Miller points out in Promised Land, domestic interests in the United States play a crucial factor in US policy, and peace is perhaps the best method to attempt to cater to all interests within America on the issue. During the Cold War, dialogue with the Arab states also meant many could be wrenched from the Soviets’ grip. More importantly, especially today, peace brings stability and security to the region, and ensures the safety of Israel. Such was part of the agenda when Sadat extended his hand to the Israelis, and Jimmy Carter ran with it to Camp David. Other Arab states soon followed; when Israel’s position within the Middle East was secured with most of its neighbors, the US realized the need for the internal peace process to kick into high gear. Such is the nature of the peace process today, as the Palestinians still dream of statehood.
External interested parties have always had a stake in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, from as nearby as Cairo, to as far away as London, Moscow, and Washington. Perhaps the most successful party in achieving its goals thus far have been the Americans, whose devotion to the peace process has brought stability in the region between the Arab states and Israel. Now, however, comes America’s greatest hurdle: the internal status of the Palestinians. Other parties have either changed or abandoned their goals: the Arabs have mostly accepted Israel’s existence, the British have largely removed themselves from the situation since the failure of the Mandate, the French have retreated from the region nearly altogether, the Russians first indirectly affected the situation (as with pogroms) but then supplied Arab states to supplant American interests prior to the end of the Cold War; the Turks lost all stake in the area with the fall of their Empire. Will American efforts go the way of the British? Or can American promises pull through and see the establishment of a Palestinian polity? “Never,” “no way,” and “not a chance” are all the most likely answers, but one thing is certain: until failure actually comes about, the United States will surely keep persisting in its efforts.

The Triumvirate of Palestine: Three Documents Which Shaped Modern Zion

[The following is my mid term which I wrote for HIST 284, a course on the Arab/Israeli conflict, dealing with three documents which shaped the foundation of the modern state of Israel and the current situation.]

The territory of Palestine, and the modern state of Israel which resides within its borders, traces its scarred, bloody lineage directly to the imperial ambitions of western Europe of the prewar era. At first dominated by the Turks, the fate of Palestine was ultimately to be determined by parties far removed from the ground, and from the people. As the Ottoman Empire met its waning hours, the major powers of Europe moved forward to carve up the remnants among themselves, and to claim their spheres of influence in the Middle East. Three documents in particular were created by that power which ascended to the position of Palestine’s imperial keeper, Great Britain: one during the latter stages of WWI, the secretive Sykes-Picot Agreement; one during the closing months of the war, the (in)famous Balfour Declaration; and one during the late interbellum period, the White Paper of 1939. Each of the three documents played a role, some more notably than others, in the development of the current situation within the modern Israeli state. While some aspects of the three were interrelated, other differences are made especially apparent when considering the documents’ varying purposes, authors, and influences. However, their differences notwithstanding, these three documents intertwined to shape the current rift between the Islamic and Jewish populations of Palestine. Through studying and analyzing the three, it becomes possible to partially understand a few of the countless factors which contributed to the current status quo in Palestine.

The first of the three documents, the secretive Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916, was convened by the British and French governments during the First World War to carve up the Middle East into spheres of influence in the aftermath of the expected fall of the Ottoman Empire. The talks for Sykes-Picot began in November 1915: France was represented by François Georges-Picot; the British by Sir Mark Sykes. Picot demanded the area the French defined as “Syria” for an area of French interest and influence: in reality modern day Syria, Lebanon, Israel/Palestine, Jordan, Northern Iraq, and part of Anatolia (Morris 70). Sykes, meanwhile, pursued British interests in Palestine, Jordan, and Mesopotamia. By January of 1916, the two were able to iron out an agreement where both parties were granted roughly what they wanted: Britain’s sphere of influence lay in the south, consisting of most of modern day Iraq and of parts of Palestine, while France’s area consisted of the north with much of what they had originally referred to as “Syria.” A joint zone was developed within the majority of Palestine, specifically Gaza, which was to be administered jointly by the French-British Allied forces (Morris 70-71). While mostly wishful thinking towards the not-long-off destruction of the Ottoman Empire, the agreement had real ramifications for Palestine as it cemented British interests in the region, namely the Suez Canal and the Anglo trade routes it facilitated (specifically to India). The divisions outlined by Sykes-Picot also assisted in the establishment of the various postwar League of Nations Mandates, however Britain’s scrapping of Sykes-Picot, due in no small part to its near unilateral victory over the Ottoman Empire on the eastern front, saw France excluded from much of the territory it was originally granted. In particular, Britain took total dominion over Palestine and Gaza, and was able to completely exclude France from the originally planned joint-control zone (Morris 88). Sykes-Picot had additional ramifications for the future of Arab-western relations, however: concurrently with the formation of Sykes-Picot, Britain had promised Hussein bin Ali, Sharif of Mecca, an Arab Empire in return for his assistance against the Ottomans. The nature of Sykes-Picot undermined this promise, as Britain would be unable to fulfill both agreements (Shlaim 7). These two were not the only wartime promises Britain would be unable to fulfill, however, as November 1917 brought perhaps one of the most important documents contributing to the current state of affairs in the state of Israel in the present day.

Chaim Weizmann, born in Russia and later emigrated to London, became one of the most notable leaders of the Zionist movement in the United Kingdom. He became noteworthy in many of the inner circles of His Majesty’s Government for his contributions in the field of artillery shell manufacture, which was especially helpful to the Allied war effort. By 1920, he had been elected president of the World Zionist Organization (Shlaim 6). The former was the cause; the latter the effect of his influence in crafting the “Balfour Declaration” of 1917, which was to become one of the single most important documents to the Zionist cause. The Balfour Declaration, a letter issued by the British government stating support for the establishment of a “Jewish Home” in Palestine, found its roots, ironically, in a similar declaration issued by the French Quay d’Orsay not five months earlier. At this time, the Zionist organization had offices with both the Allied and Central Powers, effectively making itself neutral. The French were convinced by one Nahum Sokolow, a Russian Zionist who would later play a crucial role alongside Weizmann in the creation of the Balfour Declaration, to open themselves up to the Zionist cause in an attempt to preempt the Germans in making a similar declaration (Morris 73-74). Weizmann was soon able to convince the British to follow the French lead, playing upon British trade interests in the region: the same interests which had factored into the creation of Sykes-Picot. Weizmann was able to convince the British government that a Jewish commonwealth would be a valuable asset to the British Empire; an allied state so near the Suez would be a major help in securing trade routes. Weizmann’s own interests were quite obvious as well: if the Zionists were to achieve their goal of international recognition, no nation could thrust the Zionist cause to the forefront of the world stage better than the preeminent world power of the time: the British Empire (Shlaim 6-7). During the negotiations to develop the Declaration, there were three parties which participated: the British government, the Zionists, and non-Zionist British Jews. Each of the three parties had specific objectives they sought to establish and defend. The British government was primarily concerned with winning the war, and sought support from any and all parties it could. The Zionists (led by Weizmann and Sokolow), meanwhile, sought international recognition for their cause: a Jewish state in Palestine. The non-Zionist Jews (represented by Edwin Montagu and Claude Montefiore), however, had other interests: the preservation of the rights of Jews elsewhere, besides within a proposed Jewish homeland in Palestine (Mallison 66-67).

The declaration underwent six drafts, before a finalized version was approved to be published by Balfour’s Foreign Office. The Foreign Office created a first draft, which outlined the creation of a refuge and sanctuary for oppressed Jewish populations in Palestine. The Zionists found the language of the first draft to be insufficient, and set out to create a draft of their own. In the Zionists’ early draft, they were quick to list their demands almost in full: the draft first used the term “National Home” to describe the Zionists’ desired status within Palestine, and further established “Jewish internal autonomy” and “unlimited immigration.” Both Balfour and Sokolow had their reservations with this draft, and Sokolow soon returned with a draft he felt was more concise and fitting for the cause, which outlined two specific principles: (1) the recognition of Palestine as the Jewish national home and (2) the recognition of the Zionist Organization (Mallison 71-72). Balfour returned in kind with what is referred to as a “slightly revised version” of the Zionist Draft, showing de facto approval for the Zionist objectives by the foreign minister. It was understood, however, that such a clear acceptance of Zionist motives would not find itself in the rest of the Cabinet’s good graces. It was therefore left to Lord Alfred Milner to prepare a draft to present to the Cabinet. Milner’s draft was less explicit in its support of Zionism, but even so the non-Zionist (soon to become anti-Zionist) Jews were slow to accept even a watered down version of the Balfour draft. Montagu, the only Jewish member of the Cabinet, railed against the proposal, supporting the interests of the local Christian and Muslim populations against the prospect of being replaced by implanted Jews (Mallison 73-75). The Zionists were quick to counter, as Weizmann and Mark Sykes, the previous architect of Sykes-Picot, drafted a memorandum which retreated further from previous Zionist objectives: rather than a Jewish “republic” or “commonwealth” in Palestine, they would instead seek recognition as a “national unit” which would be “federated” with the other, local populations (Mallison 76). The resulting Milner-Amery draft included the two safeguard clauses which protected Jews abroad and the local Palestinian populations which would have otherwise been supplanted by the influx of Jews (Mallison 77-80).

The Milner-Amery draft evolved into the final draft which was then approved and published by His Majesty’s Government. While numerous concessions had been made for the non/anti-Zionist Jews, the declaration was still hailed as a victory for Zionists. The declaration served as one of the founding documents of the Zionist push for statehood in Palestine, and while such a reference had been specifically omitted from the text of the declaration, Balfour himself said that he hoped “the Jews will make good in Palestine and eventually found a Jewish State.” He referred to the declaration as their “great opportunity (Morris 75).” While the Balfour Declaration was a victory for the Zionists, it would also serve some British interests. Much of the spirit of the declaration would be incorporated into the later mandate, specifically articles 2, 4, 6, 7, 11, and 22. These articles related to the obligation of the mandatory power to “foster and support” the development of a Jewish nation in Palestine, which gave the British cause (and imperial ambitions) in Palestine legitimacy. This obviously also assisted the Jews, whose national institutions would be shaped and tailored by the British during the mandatory period (Khalidi 32). The long term effects of Balfour have been far reaching on the status quo of the conflict in contemporary times, and are reflected by many Zionists’ assertion that the Balfour Declaration was an official recognition of Zionism as a movement, and that it was a blessing by the British Empire for the eventual establishment of a Jewish state.

The final of the three documents, which played less of a crucial role in the actual establishment of Israel and more of a role as a catalyst for the eventual independence and formation of Israel, was the White Paper of 1939. The White Paper of 1939, also known as the MacDonald White Paper for the Minister who presided over it, was published and accepted under the Chamberlain Ministry, and represented a nearly complete about-face in British policy regarding Palestine. The White Paper was the product of the intense fighting and revolt which had been ongoing in Palestine between 1936 and 1939, and was an attempt by Whitehall to appease the Arabs with political concessions in an attempt to keep native populations elsewhere complacent (Morris 156-157). The British set out to appease the Arabs’ demands in 1939 (a policy Chamberlain’s government was already somewhat famous for) by essentially limiting the amount of support they would lend to the Jews and increasing the political rights and protections of Arab populations. A cap of 75,000 in five years was proposed for Jewish immigration. Additionally, Jews were forbidden from purchasing land in certain districts, and it was also proposed that an Arab-majority rule state be established within ten years’ time (Morris 158). The White Paper of 1939 effectively negated the previous findings of the Peel Commission, which had suggested separate states for Jews and Arabs in Palestine. While its publishing was not entirely unexpected, as it was the product of policy and events during the interwar years which saw increased Arab militancy, many within the Zionist community, especially Weizmann, felt bitter about the change in policy (Shlaim 10). The revisionist Zionist community, led by Ze’ev Jabotinsky, embarked on a campaign of anti-British terrorism in response to the new limits placed on the Yishuv, which laid the seeds for the eventual severance of the Jewish community in Palestine from the British as the mandate crumbled (Morris 161). The White Paper of 1939 was originally meant to benefit the Arab peoples of Palestine, but in this way it was also inadequate. Hajj Amin al-Husayni, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, was especially vociferous in his opposition to the White Paper, which revealed the deep divisions within Palestinian society and the failings of the Palestinians’ national institutions to unite them in the face of certain subjugation. While initially cooperative with the British, the mufti gradually changed his outlook as talks with the British dissolved, and he eventually openly denounced the White Paper, aligning himself with the younger, more militant sects of Palestinian society who had previously criticized him for collaborating with the British. The mufti demanded full independence for Palestine, but at this point he was ignored by the British, who largely blamed him for the revolts between 1936 and 1939 (Khalidi 115-117). The unwillingness of the Arabs to compromise, combined with the resistance to the limits imposed upon the Yishuv by the Zionists, resulted in the White Paper of 1939 contributing greatly to the current situation in the Arab/Israeli conflict: the White Paper caused a rift to form between the British and Yishuv, and caused the rift between the Palestinians and Yishuv to deepen further.

These three documents hold special significance in the history of Palestine/Israel as being primary catalysts for major events which shaped the current structure of the situation today. Each had their own beneficiaries, actual or intended, and each also had their own specific purposes. They intertwine in the sense that their effects built upon one another up until the establishment of the state of Israel: for Sykes-Picot, the agreement established Britain’s interests and eventual dominance in Palestine and the Middle East at large. For the Balfour Declaration, Britain’s imperial interests in the region were furthered with the prospect of an allied Jewish state to safeguard trade lines to India. Somewhat in contrast, the White Paper of 1939 represented an about-face in British policy, as Chamberlain’s Ministry attempted to undo both what it may have perceived as “moral wrongs” and what it knew as political and societal instability, as the Arab revolts against Jewish settlement had gained Britain’s attention with the potential of throwing other colonial possessions into chaos. The White Paper failed in that regard, however, as it delayed the inevitable: Zionist resistance, both covert and overt, ensured the survival of the Yishuv, and Palestinian disjointedness ensured a unified Arab state in Palestine would remain an impossibility, even with British support. The inevitable, of course, was the establishment of a Jewish state in 1948, and the war and conflict which surrounded the circumstance. Sykes-Picot opened the door to Jewish statehood, the Balfour Declaration gave the Zionists the means to do it; The White Paper of 1939 gave them a cause célèbre to pursue it.

Works Cited

Khalidi, Rashid. The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood. Beacon Pr, 2007.

Mallison, W.T. “The Balfour Declaration: An Appraisal in International Law”. The Transformation of Palestine. Abu-Lughod, Ibrahim, ed. Northwestern University Press, 1971.

Morris, Benny. Righteous victims: a history of the Zionist-Arab conflict, 1881-2001. Vintage, 2001.

Shlaim, Avi. The Iron Wall: Israel and the Arab World. W. W. Norton & Company, 2001.

Reversing a Century of Law

[Written for my second semester American Politics regarding the landmark decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission. It’s a short but sweet analysis drawn from a couple different news sources.]

On Thursday, 21 January of this year, the Supreme Court decided in favor of Citizens United in the case Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, causing an about face in the laws which have governed elections for over a century. The decision, which saw a narrow vote of five to four, has been among the most controversial news topics of recent weeks, and has garnered much criticism from varying ends of the political spectrum. Perhaps among the most notable of the decision’s critics is President Obama, who has openly declared his opposition to the court’s opinion on numerous occasions; prime among them his referencing the decision in his first State of the Union address.

Justice Kennedy’s opinion made reference to the statutes and precedents the court’s decision overturned, and specifically pointed out in his opening that, in this case, the court was asked to reexamine McConnell v. Federal Election Commission and the earlier Austin v. Michigan Chamber of Commerce, as well as 2 U. S. C. §441b. The former two cases, taking place in 2003 and 1990 respectively (Cornell Citizens United), had dealt with campaign finance law and the ability of the complaining parties to contribute to independent media campaigns (that is, media campaigns promoted by third parties aside from the candidate him or herself). These two decisions went alongside Section 441b of Title 2 of the US Code, and upheld the law which defined limitations on these sorts of contributions (Cornell US Code). The majority upheld, and Justice Kennedy outlined in the opinion, that these previous decisions and statutes violated the first amendment in limiting the funds that entities could contribute to independent campaign efforts based upon their corporate identities (Cornell Citizens United).

As the National Journal’s Eliza Carney is quick to point out, however, this reversal in campaign finance law is not as extensive as some people seem to believe, specifically because of the “independent media campaigns” outlined above: “Second, the court’s dramatic reversal does not threaten the existing ban on direct corporate and union campaign contributions,” she explains, “So while those players may now lavish money from their treasuries on independent campaign expenditures, they still may not donate directly to candidates.” Eliza’s criticism extends further, as she outlines later her fears of undue corporate and union influence in elections (Carney). The editorial voice of the Wall Street Journal, however, stands in stark disagreement with Ms. Carney’s analysis of the situation. “Freedom has had its best week in many years. On Tuesday, Massachusetts put a Senate check on a reckless Congress,” it starts, referencing Scott Brown’s ascent to the Kennedy throne, “and yesterday the Supreme Court issued a landmark decision supporting free political speech by overturning some of Congress’s more intrusive limits on election spending.” The editorial continues mainly in supporting the decision for its Constitutional roots, and it optimistically opines that someday the Court may overturn further restrictions on corporate and other donations (Wall Street Journal).

Of course, these examples of opposition and support, respectively, are commonplace. Unique is the opinion of the decision’s biggest detractor: President Obama. As the BBC reported on the day of the decision, President Obama was quoted as saying it was a major victory for his usual nemeses: “…big oil, Wall Street banks, health insurance companies and the other powerful interests that marshal their power every day in Washington to drown out the voices of everyday Americans (BBC News).” Obama also used his weekly radio address to assault Citizens United, going so far as to use inflamed rhetoric that the ruling “strikes at our democracy itself (Burnes).” Of course, these statements pale in comparison to his reference to Citizens United on the 27^th of January during the State of the Union. The President declared that the decision was a massive mistake, that it would “open the floodgates,” and that it had reversed “a century of law (Toobin).” Obama’s statement, placing him among the decision’s largest detractors, drew a reaction from one the the decision’s largest supporters: Justice Alito. Alito’s reaction to the President’s declaration hardly went unnoticed, and became a major headline overnight as cameras caught Alito giving a reaction most commentators thought unbecoming of a justice: Alito was seen sitting amongst his fellow justices shaking his head, and while audio could not be heard, his lips clearly declared: “Not true, not true.” Alito’s reaction stands in contrast to the image often portrayed of the Supreme Court justice: stately, reserved; above the political machinations of the District. This contrast is where much of the controversy over his reaction stems (Toobin). President Obama, however, has received much the same criticism in addition to that from Alito over his blatant snipe at the court. As The Washington Post reports, numerous legal experts have published opinions on both the decision itself and the ensuing debate. The Post quotes Lucas Powe, an expert on the Court from the University of Texas law school: “I can’t ever recall a president taking a swipe at the Supreme Court like that.” The closest example Powe was able to cite was a comment made by FDR during his 1937 address to Congress (Barnes).

Some legal experts, according to the same Washington Post article, are now calling into question future relations between the Court and the executive branch. The article cites the Court’s seemingly forced appearance at such events as the State of the Union: a cadre of black-clad stoics who are meant to be seen as immune to the partisan, boisterous crowd surrounding it. Add to this such high officers of state as the President attacking the Court’s decision, and some validity is added to the idea that Powe puts forth: “I do not expect to see justices at the next State of the Union address (Barnes).” No matter what these events formulate into further down the road, it is almost certain that the relationship between the executive and judicial branches will fundamentally change. Whether or not this means the Court will not attend the next Address is left in question, and that question will not be answered for nearly a year.

Works Cited

Barnes, Robert. “Reactions split on Obama’s remark, Alito’s response at State of the Union.” The Washington Post. 29 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp- dyn/content/article/2010/01/28/AR2010012802893.html?sid=ST2010012803706>.

Burnes, Judith. “Obama Assails Supreme Court Ruling On Political Advertising.” Wall Street Journal. 23 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://online.wsj.com/article/BT-CO-20100123- 700221.html>.

Carney, Eliza. “Court Unlikely To Stop With Citizens United.” National Journal Online. 21 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://www.nationaljournal.com/njonline/rg_20100121_2456.php&gt;.

Toobin, Jeffrey. “Alito’s Face.” The New Yorker. 28 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2010/01/alitos-face.html&gt;.

“CITIZENS UNITED V. FEDERAL ELECTION COMM’N.” Cornell University Law School. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://www.law.cornell.edu/supct/html/08-205.ZO.html&gt;.

“A Free Speech Landmark.” Wall Street Journal. 22 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703699204575016843479815072.html&gt;.

“US Code: Title 2, § 441b. Contributions or expenditures by national banks, corporations, or labor organizations.” Cornell University Law School. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/2/441b.html&gt;.

“US Supreme Court overturns campaign spending limit.” BBC News. 21 Jan 2010. Web. 16 Feb 2010. <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8473253.stm&gt;.

Locke and the Second Treatise of Civil Government

[Written for my Euro History class, this analysis struck a nerve with me since Locke is arguably my greatest political influence. I’m actually pretty damn proud of this one.]

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Arguably among John Locke’s most important and influential works, the Second Treatise of Civil Government is an analytical work regarding the purposes and functions of government, as well as how it operates with regard to society at large. Published in 1689, the Second Treatise is a compilation of Locke’s own beliefs regarding government and its various aspects. Ordered into nineteen chapters, and further subdivided into a total of two-hundred forty-three sections, Locke’s work begins with several fundamental concepts key to his philosophy, then outlines the purposes and limits of both government and civil society, and finally describes the two entities’ relationships therein. The work, however, is written by Locke in such a way that is meant to be simple to understand and easy to grasp. Locke does not rely on rhetoric to promote his arguments, and instead relies upon the arguments by themselves and his logical and philosophical justifications for them. In the preface to his Second Treatise, Locke himself states that “cavilling here and there, at some expression, or little incident of my discourse, is not an answer to my book” and that “I shall not take railing for arguments.” Locke thereby establishes Second Treatise as a work rooted in what he perceives as fact, and not in sensationalism or rhetorical arguments. To fully understand Locke’s arguments, however, one must understand his credentials and background, as well. With this knowledge, it becomes easier to understand the context within which Locke’s Second Treatise was written, and just why it has become one of the most influential works of modern political thought to date.

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John Locke was born a lawyer’s son in August of 1632, in the town of Wrington, Somerset. Locke’s father, also named John, was a country lawyer and a Puritan man who had served in the English Civil War on the side of the Parliamentarians. It was this connection which allowed Locke an excellent education: Locke’s father’s commander in the Civil War became the local Member of Parliament, and it was through this connection that young Locke was afforded an education at Westminster School in London, which was among the most prestigious educational institutions of the time in England. Following Locke’s education at Westminster, he attended Christ Church, Oxford in 1652. It was here that Locke indulged himself in his studies, particularly in those of medicine and experimental science, both of which were outside of the standard curriculum. Locke graduated with his B.A. in 1656, and subsequently with his M.A. in 1658. Following his education, he spent a short period as a teacher at Christ Church for four years, however declined to teach further as to do so would require him to enter a holy order. It was during this time that Locke had begun reading such figures as Boyle and Descartes, the former whom Locke knew personally from his experience at Oxford. When Locke read Descartes, however, he admired the Frenchman’s outlook in contrast to the Aristotelian philosophy he had been taught at Oxford: philosophy he had found to be largely useless and sterile. His reading both Boyle and Descartes, and his working with Boyle directly, greatly solidified his interests in two fields: his admiration of Boyle solidified his interest in the natural sciences, while his admiration of Descartes solidified his interest in political and social philosophy. It was in 1666 when Locke met and became close friends with Lord Ashley, later to become 1st Earl of Shaftesbury. Locke became the Lord’s medical advisor, despite his lack of training as a physician, but moreover he became the Lord’s closest confidant and advisor in all matters. The men particularly found friendship in one another because of likeness in their political beliefs: both promoted a constitutional monarchy, both promoted civil liberties, both promoted the rule of Parliament, and both shared many other beliefs. Ashley himself was a prominent politician, and with their connection Locke was often granted a say in numerous matters of state and of personal interest to the Lord. By 1647, now Lord Shaftesbury had left government, and Locke returned to Oxford to actually pursue medicine. Locke was forced into exile, however, when Shaftesbury fell into disfavor with King Charles II. It was discovered that a number of Shaftesbury’s followers and friends had plotted an assassination attempt against the King, and under scrutiny Locke fled England for Holland where he remained until 1688. When the Glorious Revolution occurred in 1688, Locke returned to England aboard the royal yacht. It was on his return that Locke published a number of works, but most importantly, in this context, he published his Two Treatises on Civil Government. Published anonymously, the Two Treatises, particularly the Second Treatise, were an enumeration of Locke’s beliefs regarding government and the divine right of kings, which had been eliminated in England by the Glorious Revolution; it was a defense overall of the Glorious Revolution and the new King William. Locke’s later years, until his death in 1704, were spent in relative retirement, however he continued to publish works and serve in public life until 1700.

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Considering the political climate of Locke’s England, especially upon his return in 1688, it should be no surprise regarding his previous beliefs towards constitutional government that he worked in his Second Treatise to discredit the divine right of kings. As one can see even by only skimming the chapter titles for their central themes, Locke’s work in Second Treatise postulates a society rooted in moral ideals and common principles where individuals, society at large, and the governments they create work towards maintaining order. The last of these three is paramount: it is Locke’s belief that governments are created solely by the people and to serve the people, particularly to protect the properties of individuals, and that if a government does otherwise, it has done wrong. Specifically, for instance, one can reference Section 87 of Chapter VII in how it relates man to civil society and to political society, where political society serves as an “umpire” with regard to the natural laws which exist for all men, asserted earlier in Chapter II and onwards. It is in this way that Locke balances the various aspects of society and theorizes social contract: the idea that people give up some rights to ensure the protection of others, specifically property rights as established in Chapter V. It is also through these arguments that Locke promotes the rule of law, and that if the rule of law fails to carry out its prescribed duties, then the civil government established to maintain said law has failed in its duties. Among the more notable examples of this in Locke’s text is covered in Chapter III: “Of the State of War;” it is in Section 20 of this chapter where Locke equates a miscarriage of justice to the violence of the crime which the law failed to properly prosecute. In addition, in further promoting his theory that the state is responsible to the people and that no ruler may rule without his (or her) people’s consent, the final chapter of Locke’s Second Treatise sets out the mechanisms by which a society may change its government if it fails to serve the people correctly. Chapter XIX, aptly titled “Of the Dissolution of Government,” sets forth the causes, justifications, and ideas which should “govern” the dismantling of a system of government in favor of a system which would perform in a capacity better suited to serve the people and protect their rights and liberties. It is with this chapter that Locke sets forth a map of sorts by which both current and future individuals could justify their own revolutions with, in addition to further solidifying and legitimizing the Glorious Revolution of 1688, and subsequently legitimizing the reign of the new King William.

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Locke’s Second Treatise is, as stated, among the most influential works of modern western political thought ever published. The Second Treatise, and the other works of Locke, have inspired countless political movements and several revolutions, and perhaps most notably the ideals of Locke were embodied in the Declaration of Independence and its assertion to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” as well as subsequently being featured in the US Constitution. To read Locke’s Second Treatise directly, rather than to read about it through other means such as through interpretative essays or textbook accounts of his work, gives the reader a glimpse into Locke’s very own words and ideas. Thusly, it opens up Locke’s own work for direct interpretation, and allows the reader to observe it in context with regard to the historical circumstances surrounding it. To study the Second Treatise through reading it is to glimpse back towards the circumstances surrounding the Glorious Revolution of 1688, where for the first time in English history the dominance of Parliament was fully asserted over the power of the monarch. It was during this period of time that modern liberal thought began to develop, particularly in England where the nature of English law and government had allowed such thought to flourish in the light of healthy political discourse. Locke, as a major figure of early liberal political philosophy, laid the foundation for the rise of such prominent western powers such as the expanded British Empire and the United States of America, where his ideas and theories were incorporated into the basic compositions of these two great nations’ governments, and of their derivatives and imitators. The modern western liberal nation-state owes much of its origin to Locke’s basic philosophical ideals, for without his contributions and influence it is doubtful that such great political revolutions and changes would have occurred as extensively they did.