Policymaking in Troubled Times: The long and the short of it
Echoing calls in Davos, Mark Beeson argues that we must not let the naked application of power to determine our collective future.
Spare a thought for beleaguered policymakers in some of the world’s less powerful states. The democratic variety in particular have to try and convince voters that they have real agency in a world dominated by increasingly assertive and—in America’s case—unpredictable great powers. Unsurprisingly, they are consumed with immediate problems and have little time to think about their own futures, let alone the planet’s.
Even autocrats are compelled to spend more time and scarce resources than they would like responding to one or other of the urgent, intersecting elements of the ‘polycrisis’ that defines our age. Little wonder that many populists peddle the idea that if only they were left to their own devices free of external ‘interference’ they could return the country to some bygone halcyon age when life was less complex and sovereignty was more secure.
As the Trump administration is discovering, however, it may be possible to reproduce elements of the past, but possibly not the ones you were hoping for; or not unless you were hoping to recreate the social dislocation and upheaval that distinguished the Weimar Republic. Unfortunately for the rest of us, what goes in in America definitely doesn’t stay there.
Recognising and trying to respond to the possibility that the world’s most powerful state has gone rogue and upended the established order, not to mention the complacent shibboleths about the benign nature of American power that frequently underpinned it, is a critical test for the fabled ‘international community’. As challenging as this is plainly proving for political elites everywhere, it is not even the greatest problem we face.
In the long run, we’re all dead
Keynes’ famous aphorism has often been misunderstood and quoted out of context. It refers to the tension between immediate economic crises and the expected return to ‘normal’ once they had been resolved. In other words, fix the present problem and let the future take care of itself. While this way of thinking might have made sense in the context of the currency crises of the 1920s, it’s not terribly helpful as a guide to economic, foreign or—most consequentially—environmental policy now.
To be fair, no one talked much about the environment as a public policy problem until the 1960s. But given the consensus amongst climate scientists about the causes and likely consequences of unmitigated climate change, our policymakers can’t really plead ignorance. But there’s nothing to stop them from displaying their ignorance or even their belief that the whole issue is a hoax ‘created by and for the Chinese in order to make US manufacturing non-competitive’, as Trump believes.
It is problematic enough that the most powerful man in the world is so breathtakingly ill-informed, but it is even more concerning when he makes his own instincts and/or interests the basis of domestic and foreign policy. Interestingly, the invitation to ‘drill baby drill’ has not been enthusiastically taken up major oil companies, which remain concerned about the chaotic and unreliable nature of Trump’s approach to policymaking.
However, as Trump’s determination to exploit Venezuela’s massive oil reserves make clear, his administration is completely unconcerned about the impact this may have on the natural environment or the international political and legal institutions that constitute the so-called rules based international order, for that matter. On the contrary, Stephen Miller, Trump’s deputy chief of staff summed up the administration’s evolving approach when he argued that ‘we live in a world, in the real world … that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power’.
The underlying philosophy, hubris and arrogance of this claim are bad enough, but they are made infinitely worse by the nature of the real environmental challenges we collectively face, which will remain unaddressed by the US. Such an approach also gives allies like Australia, one of the world’s worst polluters on a per capita basis, an excuse for inaction.
Recognising reality
Ironically enough, the current crisis in Iran, one of a growing number of countries that have been subjected to, or threatened with, American military coercion, highlight all of the contradictions and problems that flow from a failure to understand, let alone address, problems with immediate and long-term consequences.
While most people would agree that Iran’s theocratic government and brutal instruments of repression are indefensible, they are arguably not the country’s biggest problem, especially in the longer term. It is entirely possible that Tehran, a city of some 10 million people will have to be abandoned and its population relocated. The cause? A combination of decades of mismanagement of the city’s water system and an unrelenting drought caused by global warming.
In the unlikely event that the authorities can address the economic problems that triggered the current protests, the regime will still be faced with an existential environmental crisis that ensures a bleak future for the country’s youthful population. Little wonder they risk their lives to protest. It’s a looming catastrophe that neither their own government nor the US seem capable of addressing or even recognising in America’s case.
Nor is Tehran a unique problem. On the contrary, Kabul, Bogata, Chennai, and Cape Town are all facing similar crises, some of which may well prove beyond the capabilities of local states to manage, much less resolve. Under such circumstances, it is entirely plausible to expect deteriorating environmental conditions to trigger mass migration in an understandable effort to simply survive.
The idea that climate change might be a threat security, even the sort that has traditionally focused on military conflicts, is hardly new. Like the possibility of environmental breakdown itself, it is also supported by a good deal of evidence. The reality of the dangers posed by unaddressed climate change, if only as a ‘threat multiplier’ , has even been recognised by America’s security establishment. It is unlikely such insights will be taken seriously by the Trump administration though, as it seeks to use the military as an arm of domestic and foreign policy.
Getting our priorities right
For policymakers, one of the most problematic features of the polycrisis is that it’s hard to know quite what to prioritise. As the renewed interest in ‘state capacity’ reminds us, some states are capable of focusing on one challenge at a time. Even so, the understandable danger is that they will choose to prioritise the most immediate over the longer-term, even if the latter ultimately threatens the end of civilisation. This is, of course, precisely where we—the human race—find ourselves at this especially perilous moment.
Clearly, we have faced major crises in the past and lived to tell the tale. Surviving the Second World War and the Cuban missile crisis, both merit big ticks, for example, but the climate crisis really is different. There is no historical precedent for the challenge of preventing environmental breakdown.
True, there are conflicts in Eastern Europe and the Middle East that are proving difficult to resolve and growing tensions between the world’s ‘great powers’. Any of these could spiral out of control. But they are all fundamentally political problems that are potentially amenable to political solutions, possibly very rapid ones given sufficient commitment and a willingness to put international cooperation ahead of narrow national interests.
This would be a challenge under any circumstances, but when the leader of most powerful state in the world has made putting its own interests first and uses its military might unilaterally in violation of international law to achieve narrow national interests, less powerful states need to think differently and even creatively about their roles and options.
Recognising that they have more in common with each other than they do with the hegemonic forces that seek to shape their destinies would be a start. The European Union’s continuing support of Ukraine, and its willingness take a stand against Trump’s desire to annex Greenland demonstrates what could and should be done, no matter how difficult it may be.
And that’s the point, of course. Rising to the challenge and recognising what’s at stake if we allow the naked application of power to determine our collective future, either by action or inaction, is essential. If ever there was a moment for so-called middle powers around the world to step up and at least try to act in unison, this is it. One relatively painless way of indicating the international community’s unhappiness with the Trump administration might be to boycott the forthcoming World Cup, as suggested by a German foreign policy spokesman.
There is no shortage of issues upon which they could make common cause, and not just among the usual suspects either. The only good thing about climate change is that we really are all in together, even if some if ‘us’ are much more badly affected than others. Cooperating across continents is clearly not easy but making a serious effort to stabilise the environment, whether the natural or the geopolitical variety, is a good place to start.
The old order may not be quite dead, but it’s certainly in a Trump-induced coma. Trying to shape what comes next really ought to involve the majority of the world’s population, especially its younger members. After all, they will inherit a future that is being made by the decisions world leaders make today. No wonder they’re so worried and anxious.
Mark Beeson, Adjunct Professor, Australia-China Relations Institute, University of Technology Sydney.
Photo by Ollie Craig
