Book reviews

International Relations theory

After the Enlightenment: political realism and International Relations in the mid-twentieth century. By Nicolas Guilhot. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2017. 264pp. £74.99. isbn 978 1 10716 973 9. Available as e-book. The history of realism as a western IR discipline is vague. Realism as a theory traces its roots to Thucydides, Hobbes and Machiavelli, but realism as a discipline only started to develop in the years between the two most catastrophic and global wars of human history, which brought into question every assumption about state behaviour and war and peace. It gained momentum in the immediate postwar world, with Morgenthau channelling his inner Machiavelli and launching what can be seen as the predominant idea of international politics. This is especially important, and something which Guilhot writes about in detail. In the US, where at the time the study of International Relations was at its peak, there was a forced attempt to move towards a more scientific approach, discarding traditional behav- ioural approaches. Guilhot observes how the Rockefeller Foundation led to the emergence of a realist approach to international politics. Early scholars like Morgenthau, Niebuhr and Nietzsche were influenced by realpolitik when developing their ideas, and defined themselves against interwar Wilsonian liberalism, which they considered a failure. Guilhot also writes about realism’s ‘illiberal’ roots. This claim is a bit strenuous, but he ties realism, justifiably, to Carl Schmitt’s works. He is of course right to do that. Realism traditionally has been a conservative idea, which privileged nation-states over other actors in global politics. Classical realists especially were foreign policy elitists. Morgenthau himself wrote about the ‘incompatibility between the rational requirements of a sound foreign policy and emotional preferences of a democratically controlled public opinion’, something which has been forgotten since then. This is simply because autocratic states are faster in decision-making; it is unlikely that the Concert of Europe would have taken place today. However, the fact that early realists were traditionally conservative does not make them illiberal; nor does Carl Schmitt’s influence mean that they promoted autocracy—this is an example of ‘poisoned origins fallacy’. To Guilhot’s credit, he is masterful in his descriptions of ideas within realism, and how they are connected to the roots and development of the theory. His analysis of the evolu- tion of the concept of ‘security dilemma’ is fascinating, and he digs up the classical Christian roots of early theorists. He argues that Herbert Butterfield provides sociological justifica- tions of human predicament and that the eastern and western blocs avoided war because each was unsure of the others’ intention, as each was ‘beset by the devils of fear’. The book is a compelling read for anyone interested in the history of theory. After the Enlightenment is also timely. Realism is making a comeback after a quarter

International Affairs 94: 2 (2018) 427–475 © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of The Royal Institute of International Affairs. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: [email protected] Book reviews century of liberal internationalist utopia. In what seems like a repeat of the cyclical pattern of the interwar years of the last century, liberal institutionalism is again facing challenges, as nationalism and nation-states show that they remain the key variables in international politics. From Brexit to the rise of Trump, from Middle Eastern countries balancing against the independence bid of Kurdistan to Spain cracking down on Catalonia, the ideas of realism and power politics, which looked very nineteenth-century after the collapse of the Soviet Union, are experiencing a renewal of academic interest. Nothing could be more important at this stage than to go back to the theory’s roots. Guilhot’s book is an interesting contribution which will serve as a starting-point for young scholars trying to navigate the often confusing beginnings of their discipline. Sumantra Maitra, University of Nottingham, UK

International history*

Concentration camps: a short history. By Dan Stone. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2017. 176pp. £12.99. isbn 978 0 19879 070 9. Available as e-book. ‘In the future, I believe, when the word concentration camp is used, one will think of Hitler’s Germany, and only Hitler’s Germany’. Writing in autumn 1933, even so perceptive a diarist as Victor Klemperer could scarcely have imagined where the nascent Nazi camp system would lead. But he was proved largely correct. The images of starving inmates at the camps’ liberation, peering uncomprehending through barbed wire amid other-worldly scenes of suffering and death, are seared into the global consciousness. Klemperer’s diary entry, of course, also registers his awareness of similar carceral institutions elsewhere. He was almost certainly thinking of the Anglo-Boer War (1899–1902), when the British Army’s use of concentration camps to intern Boer civilians had sparked public outrage in Germany. The Nazi regime, chafing at purported ‘atrocity propaganda’ abroad about its camps, made much of this grim precedent. In this elegant and compact book, therefore, the prolific Holocaust historian Dan Stone poses a highly pertinent question: what is a concentration camp? The answer is anything but simple. He charts a deft path between the twin hazards of a definition so expansive that the concept is drained of analytical value, and of particularizing the Nazi camps to the extent that they appear sequestered from broader historical processes. He opens, however, with a decidedly inauspicious ‘working definition’ of the concentration camp as ‘an isolated circumscribed site with fixed structures designed to incarcerate civilians’ (p. 4) which is much too loose and fails to differentiate the camp from normative ‘total institutions’ (Erving Goffman) such as prisons and asylums. Fortunately, Stone moves away from this position throughout the book. He rightly stresses a colonial genealogy to the concentration camp stretching back to the violent depopulation and transfers of indigenous peoples to reservations and island prisons in Australia and the United States. This provides historical context to the better-known use of camps in Cuba and the Philippines in the 1890s, as well as the British and German camps in Africa in the following decade. Stone persuasively identifies the First World War, which vastly expanded the size and repressive capacity of the modern state, as a watershed moment in carceral practice. The conflict inaugurated an array of internment, forced labour and refugee camps as well as a continental topography of increasingly squalid and abusive prisoner of war facilities.

* See also Stefan Rinke, Latin America and the First World War, pp. 474–5. 428

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 International history

Finally, it was the totalitarian regimes of the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany, both deeply scarred by the experience of the Great War, which most fully pressed the Promethean potential of the camp. Stone’s expert appraisals of the vast literature on both the Nazi camps (chapter three) and the Gulag (chapter four) are remarkable feats of clarity and compression. As he shows, comparison between the two systems is fraught with difficulty, especially as both changed greatly over time. Moreover, even scholarly conceptions of the Nazi camps are distorted by their condition at liberation and by the presence of Holocaust survivors who had been marched westwards in the spring of 1945. Next to this, the far longer lifespan of the Gulag makes static comparison impossible. However, there were clear differences in lethality. Of the 2.3 million inmates in the Nazi camps, at least 1.7 million died, whereas 90 per cent of Gulag prisoners survived. There was no Soviet equivalent to Auschwitz or Majdanek, let alone Treblinka. This need not desensitize us, of course, to the extraordinary suffering in the Gulag: the annual mortality rate at Kolyma until 1949 was between 30 and 40 per cent. As Margarete Buber-Neumann—a survivor of both systems—reflected, ‘it is hard to know which is less humanitarian—gassing people in five minutes, or taking three months to crush them with hunger’ (p. 61). Stone makes a crucial point in noting that concentration camps everywhere have an ‘air of madness’ (p. 120) to them which is inaccessible to the detached methodologies of the social sciences. This ‘air of madness’ certainly applies to many of the postwar examples discussed in his fifth chapter, especially the totalitarian experiments in China, Cambodia and North Korea. It sits less easily with the discussion of the various internment and displaced persons facilities run by western powers which he gathers under the term ‘liberal internment’. However repellent, these lack the creatively lethal culture of the camps discussed elsewhere in the book. Similarly, to reject the proposition that Guantánamo Bay or the Gaza Strip are concentration camps is not to diminish their manifest iniquities. In the final chapter, Stone engages patiently with philosophical speculation about the camp as the ‘nomos of moder- nity’ and the global South as a giant economic concentration camp. The authors concerned evidently need a history lesson, and Stone’s admirably measured and insightful volume is an ideal place to start learning about the history of concentration camps. Christopher Dillon, King’s College London, UK

Asia after Versailles: Asian perspectives on the Paris Peace Conference and the interwar order, 1919–33. Edited by Urs Matthias Zachmann. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. 2017. 256pp. Index. £23.33. isbn 978 1 47441 716 7. As the world is commemorating the centenary of the First World War, Asia after Versailles is a much needed resource to understand how Asia was affected by the Paris Peace Conference and how Asia, in turn, influenced Versailles. The first chapters provide a general overview of the impact that Versailles had on Asia during the interwar period. This includes Mark Metzler’s persuasive demonstration that Asia became a vital part of world economic, monetary and financial systems at this time. Next to this, Cemil Aydin highlights that the First World War and the Versailles system were ‘as crucial for Muslims in Asia as … for Europe’ (pp. 56–7), and that even though the First World War had strengthened the political legality of demands made in the name of national self-determination, ‘Muslim claims to rights in the name of a broader racial and civilizational community ended up being suppressed and curtailed’ (p. 72). Moreover, Torsten Weber argues that ‘Asia’ after Versailles was not the same as before: ‘Through heated debate rather than consensus, and often as an expedient or a mere tool of rhetoric 429

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews rather than a principle, Asia had become a key concept in political discourse in Japan, China, other parts of Asia and, indeed, in the world’ (p. 89). The rest of the chapters are more specific and deal with individual cases or countries. Naoko Shimazu’s, John LoBreglio’s and Kevin M. Doak’s chapters all discuss different aspects of Japan’s relationship with the Paris Peace Conference. Shimazu describes Japan’s disastrous performance at the Paris Peace Conference by focusing on the role of public diplomacy—which Japanese leadership failed to understand and appreciate. LoBreglio argues that western infighting, racism, hypocrisy and power politics based on national self- interest at Versailles were key catalysts for Japanese Buddhist observers, and Japan more generally, to eventually abandon universal internationalist ideals and go down the road that would lead to the Second World War. Finally, Doak explores ‘the competing tensions between new forms of particularism and universalism and how they influenced the way nationalism was understood in Japan after the Versailles Treaty’ (p. 175)—suggesting that both particularism and universalism were ‘symbiotically reinforcing each other’ which created ‘a new postwar context in which ideas and ideals were given enhanced status in political life’ (p. 175). Gotelind Müller’s and Hiroko Sakamoto’s chapters discuss Chinese engagement with the Paris Peace Conference. Müller argues that the peace conference did not curb Chinese anarchist internationalism, since Versailles involved only nation-states and that, while nation- alism became a buzzword in postwar China, ‘internationalism was not dead, and among those trying to adhere to it for as long as possible were the anarchists’ (p. 205). Sakamoto, in discussing Versailles’s impact on this Chinese nationalism, looks at Shanghai’s urban culture from 1919–1931 and argues that, although Chinese nationalism has a long history, ‘it has also absorbed various heterogeneous cultural influences, especially during the early stages of globalization’ (p. 233). During the peace conference this was largely marked by anti-imperi- alism, ‘but cosmopolitan cultural influences were also noticeable’ (p. 233). Finally, Maria Framke, in her discussion of Indian public opinion and the League of Nations, argues that the First World War and its aftermath turned out to be a turning-point in the history of India and its national development. Asia after Versailles’s greatest contribution is through its transnational perspective on Asia during the interwar years. The book highlights that the First World War and the peace conference were ‘as crucial for their impact on Asia as they were for Europe. The war and subsequent events brought about the integration of Asia into global affairs at unprecedented levels, for better and for worse’ (p. 3). A recurring theme across the chapters is that the First World War indicated not only the decline of the West, but also an Asian challenge. Weber highlights this best when he suggests that the First World War ‘constitutes one of the first instances during which the concept of Asia was linked by people from different parts of Asia to criticism of the assumed superiority of western modernity and of globalization along western standards. Encouraged by the self-destructive Great War and incited by continuous racial discrimination, numerous Asian thinkers embarked on a full-scale attack on European civilization as the emblem of western materialistic modernity. Simultaneously, the hitherto neglected concept of Asia was re-evaluated’ (p. 77). These arguments and themes are signifi- cant in helping us reset international and transnational understandings of the First World War by instilling Asian voices and perspectives. Finally, although most of the individual contributions are excellent and the introduc- tion brilliantly tries to link the otherwise unconnected chapters, as an edited volume the book has substantial weaknesses. First, although the editor suggests that this volume tries to get away from eurocentric understandings of what constitutes ‘Asia’ by focusing on 430

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Governance, law and ethics

‘Asian sensibilities and motivations in their own right’ (p. 3), it would have benefited the book as a whole had the concept of ‘Asia’ been systematically defined and discussed in a more coherent way. Another problem is the unbalanced coverage—Turkey was included, but not Vietnam or Indo-China. Overall, it would have made the work much stronger if it had devoted more space to the issues that affected all of Asia through a global perspective— such as colonialism, internationalism, national development and globalization. This kind of systematic treatment would have ensured not only that most Asian nations were included, but, more importantly, it would have made the book’s central theme clearer, connecting the chapters more coherently and systematically. Guoqi Xu, University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong

Governance, law and ethics

Aftershocks: Great Powers and domestic reforms in the twentieth century. By Seva Gunitsky. Princeton, NJ, and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 2017. 304pp. £49.25. isbn 978 0 69117 233 0. Available as e-book. The debates about the decline of American hegemony and the reversal of the global spread of democracy have become intense in the last couple of years. This makes the publication of this perceptive work by Seva Gunitsky very timely. In Aftershocks, he argues that ‘the history of modern democracy cannot be completely understood without taking into account the effects of hegemonic shocks’ (p. 232). His central argument is that these ‘moments of sudden rise and decline of great powers’, whether caused by war or economic crisis, ‘act as powerful catalysts for cross-border bursts of domestic reform [by creating] incentives for domestic reform even in countries that have little to do with the great powers themselves’ (pp. 2–3). For Gunitsky, ideas about the most desirable political order—however attrac- tive—cannot generate waves of change on their own. For this to happen, there has to be a change in the hegemonic configuration of the international system. In this unabashed structural approach, even the intentions or actions of rising or declining hegemons who are championing their particular form of government are not crucial—what matters is the disruption produced by the rebalancing of power between them. Gunitsky identifies three mechanisms that interact to connect hegemonic shocks to waves of regime change: coercion, inducement and emulation. In short, these shocks increase the likelihood of external regime imposition by a rising power and enable it to shape the insti- tutional preferences of others through inducements. Furthermore, the shocks encourage other states to copy the political institutions of the rising power. Separate chapters map out how the hegemonic shocks caused by the First and Second World Wars, the Great Depression and the collapse of the Soviet Union produced the structural conditions that enabled subsequent periods of political volatility and cross-national trends towards or away from democratic forms of government. In doing so, Aftershocks puts forward a compelling argument and backs it up with case-studies built on a wider range of sources than one tends to find in much of the literature on democratic (and autocratic) waves. Gunitsky’s engagement with the manner in which these waves crest and retreat is one of the most important contributions of this book. Aftershocks goes beyond the range of usual explanations for democratic advances and for backsliding, seamlessly integrating them into a single phenomenon. Gunitsky makes a convincing case for his argument that the forces producing democratic waves after hegemonic shocks carry within them the seeds for the failures of many such transitions. The ‘extremely powerful but temporary incentives for 431

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews democratization’ that are created lead to ‘an artificially inflated number of transitions’. Therefore, transitions attempted during a post-shock wave are ‘systematically more fragile than democratization driven purely by domestic forces’ (pp. 5–6). At first, the impact of the hegemonic shock overwhelms the various domestic conditions that normally prevent democratic change. But as this effect gradually weakens, home-grown factors reassert themselves and lead to the failure of democratization. Furthermore, with the passage of time, hegemonic pressures shift, autocratic regimes adapt and learn, and initial ad hoc national democratic coalitions break up. All this adds up to a strong explanation of the ebb and flow of regime type tides in the international system. If there is perhaps one shallow spot in Gunitsky’s account of this phenomenon across the last century or so, it concerns the current trend towards so-called hybrid regimes. By now, it is well established that the optimism about the forward march of democratiza- tion following the end of the Cold War was not entirely justified, with many countries that enjoyed a moment of progress showing clear signs of reversal or becoming stabilized in a zone of minimal democratic form and anaemic democratic substance. While After- shocks does address this issue, it could have devoted more space to it, not least because of its connection to the weakening of western hegemony. In particular, it would have been good to read more about what happened in Russia and other post-Soviet countries since they are central to the story of hybrid regimes. This aside, Aftershocks is an important, well-argued and well-written contribution to the literature on the international dimension of change in political regimes across different countries. Not only does it clarify the processes that led to today’s world, it also raises necessary questions about where we may be heading. Gunitsky is correct in saying that the link between capitalism and democracy may not be as unique as some argue; the coming decades may well show autocratic or illiberal states growing in power on the back of capitalist economies. As we are beginning to see, this will abet the spread of non-democratic forms of government through strength of example and a balance of power that tilts more towards autocratic powers. Ultimately, whether this happens will depend a lot on the shape of the next hegemonic shock. Gunitsky convincingly argues that the experience of the last 100 years shows that prospects for global democracy are tightly bound with the health of the most powerful democratic state: ‘American power and success serves to legitimate the regime that it embodies and creates powerful incen- tives for leaders around the world to place themselves in the U.S. camp’ (p. 241). Based on the book’s core argument, Gunitsky warns that a sudden decline in American power—the potential next hegemonic shock—would be worse for global democracy than the gradual rise of undemocratic China. This is not a cheering thought for those already worried about the impact of the ongoing slow and soft rebalancing of power away from the United States and its western democratic cohort. Nicolas Bouchet, German Marshall Fund of the United States, Germany

Political trials in theory and history. Edited by Jens Meierhenrich and Devin O. Pendas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2016. 430pp. £81.00. isbn 978 1 10707 946 5. Available as e-book. When facing charges, both President Bill Clinton and Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi accused their judges of being instruments of political retaliation. They are not alone: even O. J. Simpson’s defence attorney argued that his trial was politically motivated. Were they right? Politicians, commentators and members of the public will hold contrasting views, 432

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Governance, law and ethics and the more a trial involves the higher echelons of society—top politicians, tycoons or celebrities—the more it is likely that public opinion will become a jury outside the court- room. Indeed, Political trials in theory and history shows that, in too many trials, it is very diffi- cult to separate the administration of justice from explicit or, more often, implicit political goals. The book makes two key contributions to the understanding of political trials. The first comes from a rather dense, though well-articulated, introductory chapter from the editors. The second is a list of inspiring case-studies devoted to 14 trials held across 25 centuries, from Socrates to Guantánamo Bay. Jens Meierhenrich and Devin O. Pendas are well aware that the category of political trial is very heterogeneous and they make an attempt to divide it into three subcategories: those that lead to a real change in society (decisive trials), those that are educational and often help to establish a new cultural climate (didactic trials), and finally those that aim to annihilate political opponents (destructive trials). The subcategories are certainly useful, although they do not appear to be mutually exclusive and a typical political trial may combine elements of each of the three. More importantly, Meierhenrich and Pendas make a bold effort to identify three key components of the political trial: power, procedure and performance. According to the editors, only those holding power can call a suspect to the dock. These are typically states or, as in the case of international tribunals, associations among states. Due to this, they interpret political trials exclusively as acts of power exercised by state authorities. This definition seems to be too restrictive. Naturally, most political trials take place under the jurisdiction of a state, but it is wrong to assume that the judicial dynamics between accusation and defence in front of a supposedly impartial judge are monopolized by states. When Bertrand Russell and his associates accused the United States of committing war crimes in Vietnam, they did it in front of a court of public opinion. They were certainly organizing a political trial, in spite of the fact that no state authority was involved and none of the accused could ever be punished by such a tribunal. Moreover, a trial, especially one where the impartiality of the court is challenged, needs to follow specific procedures. The rules of the game must be respected, but we have seen how many defendants—including members of the National Liberation Front in Algeria; separatist groups, such as the Basque Homeland and Liberty (ETA) and the Irish Republican Army (IRA); and terrorists organizations, such as the Italian Red Brigades and the German Baader-Meinhof group—found that the best defence strategy was to deny the authority of the courts that tried them. Finally, both the editors in their introduction and the contributors to the volume discuss individual trials, emphasizing the importance of performance. Readers are warned that ‘much of the efficacy and legitimacy of trials depends on their performative quality’ (p. 63). Very often, the real outcome of a political trial is not the ruling of the court, but rather its legacy in public opinion and, more generally, in historical records. Both Socrates and Jesus Christ were found guilty, but their judges are known today only because they condemned them. This questions the very nature of a political trial. The case is often won not by establishing the truth, but by providing a convincing narrative. The competition between the prosecutor and the defendant is eventually won by the player able to provide the best theatrical performance. In conclusion, Political trials in theory and history is well documented and full of intel- ligent insights, but it does not necessarily help identify in what instances political factors dominate a trial. Moreover, though the contributors to the volume do a very good job of uncovering the political components in the trials they discuss, no solutions are offered. 433

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews

Should aspirations of impartial justice be abandoned or should the foundations of indepen- dent judicial institutions be reinforced? Daniele Archibugi, Birkbeck University of London, UK

Perilous interventions: the Security Council and the politics of chaos. By Hardeep Singh Puri. Noida, India: HarperCollins. 2016. 208pp. £11.39. isbn 978 9 35177 759 5. Available as e-book. Perilous interventions is a must-read for scholars and students of international politics, at a time when the global order itself feels imperilled. The United Nations and its apex crisis management body, the Security Council, created to protect future generations from the scourge of war, emerge as part of the problem in this disturbing and frank account of politics at the high table. Discussing cases of militarized intervention, carried out with and without the mandate and legitimacy of Council resolutions, the book provides a detailed and gripping insight into UN decision-making. The book’s tragic conclusion is that parts of the Middle East and North Africa have become sites of enduring crisis and chaos, as a result of ‘the vicious cycle of perilous interventions’ (p. 7). The book comes with a very concrete prescription: that interventions, especially those that entail the ‘use of force’, and more generally that ‘interventionist mindsets’ (p. 5), have disastrous consequences and need to be challenged and scrutinized. Hardeep Singh Puri, a long-serving and distinguished diplomat, draws on his experience of multilateral diplo- macy but especially focuses on the inner workings of the UNSC. Having served as perma- nent representative at the UN for India, he was President of the Council in August 2011 and November 2012, when Libya and Syria were high on the UNSC agenda. The UNSC comprises five permanent members—China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States—collectively known as the P5, each with the power to veto a resolution. The council’s ten elected members serve two-year, non-consecutive terms and are not afforded veto power. There is thus a particular nuance to the narrative and perspective provided in this book, as India, a non-permanent member, did not have veto power but was afforded an opportunity to steer and shape deliberations on two major international crises. Libya and Syria are cornerstones of the book, with chapters three and four providing intricate and detailed description and analysis of the decisions which led, in the first case, to UNSC-sanctioned military intervention and in the second to Council inaction. The author examines two further cases of recent intervention, Saudi Arabia in Yemen (chapter five) and Russia in Ukraine (chapter six). Together, they depict a troubling storyline of ad hoc decision-making, where major powers are swayed by short-term interests. Further- more, the arming of rebels on the ground emerges as a pattern of action, ‘without thinking through the consequences and the wilful encouragement of destabilization’ (p. 37). The UNSC has grown increasingly hostage to Great Power politics, competition and mistrust, resulting in gridlock. This is in many ways reminiscent of the Cold War. To understand this, the author draws attention to mistakes made in the distant and recent past that continue to haunt the present and determine the future. These include decisions dating back to colonial times that impacted state- and nation-making, the ‘folly of the 2003 Iraq misadventure’ (p. 27) and a drastic misdiagnosis of the Arab Spring (chapter two). Tyrants, strongmen and authoritarian rulers are certainly also to blame for bad governance and calamities; however, the book explores the rationale for international intervention, which it argues is often based on contingent factors rather than an examination of under- lying, embedded causes. 434

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Governance, law and ethics

Chapter seven shifts the book’s regional focus, jumping suddenly to delve into India’s own experience of intervention abroad—when it plunged into the evolving uncertain- ties of a civil war in Sri Lanka during the 1980s. Although the author suggests that there are lessons to be learned from this painful chapter in Indian foreign policy, the long and unintended implications of India’s own ‘perilous intervention’ remain under-specified. This is tantalizing, given that Puri served at the headquarters of the Ministry of External Affairs in New Delhi in the early 1980s, and later liaised directly with Sri Lankan political leaders and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam as First Secretary at the Indian High Commission in Colombo. Hopefully this is material for a book to come. Both realists, betting on chaos as a means of ensuring influence or enhancing power, and liberals, who foretold a better future to justify intervention, are put to shame in Perilous interventions. Furthermore, scholars and practitioners will need to grapple hard with the doctrine of the Responsibility to Protect, which gained such traction in the early 2000s. ‘Responsibility’ cannot be a clarion call for action by the international commu- nity without it also being a qualifying adjective: Puri draws attention to the need for responsible decisions that recognize and prepare for the consequences of the international community’s actions. Jivanta Schöttli, National University of Singapore, Singapore

We chose to speak of war and strife: the world of the foreign correspondent. By John Simpson. London: Bloomsbury. 2016. 384pp. Index. £20.29. isbn 978 1 40887 224 6. Available as e-book. John Simpson’s lively and engrossing history of the foreign correspondent’s trade is based on a surprising premise. His thesis is that while much has changed for the foreign corre- spondent over the past 400 years, ‘the entire business has in essence remained the same throughout’. How can that be in a world where, in the words of A. G. Sulzberger, recently appointed publisher of the New York Times: ‘trust in the media is declining as technology platforms elevate clickbait, rumour and propaganda over real journalism’? Simpson, the BBC’s world affairs editor with 50 years of experience on the road, begins by demolishing the idea that there was a golden age of news. The London stationer Nathaniel Butter, pioneer of English journalism, was a tabloid-style sensationalist. One of his front pages, from 1631, opens with the gripping headline, ‘Good news to Christendom’. According to sources in Italy, the Ottoman Sultan is about to embrace Christianity. As a sign of this miracle, blood has rained on Rome. The illustration shows the warlike Turks meekly hailing this portent as they gather to be baptised. Complete tosh, of course, but easily recognizable ancestor of today’s popular press. Moreover, Simpson’s choice of the finest scoop will make purists cringe. He gives the accolade to Henry Stanley who was sent by the New York Herald to central Africa in 1871 to ‘find Livingstone’. The fact that the words ‘Dr Livingstone, I presume’ (which Stanley seems to have made up to sound posher than he was) are remembered today is evidence of the lasting impact of this journalistic stunt. Not so different in spirit, Simpson concludes, from the celebrity chasing of the Kardashian era. Both erudite and flashy (his own word), Simpson is clearly the man to write a history of this dog-eat-dog world. No other journalist could mention in passing that Saddam Hussein, while on trial for his life in a Baghdad courtroom, smiled warmly at him or claim, as he unwisely did in 2001 after the withdrawal of the Taliban from Kabul, to have ‘liber- ated’ the Afghan capital. However, those looking for a comprehensive academic analysis 435

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews of the decline of the men—and they were until recently mostly men—in shiny brown brogues should seek this elsewhere. The pages are full of stories of the morally challenged practitioners of this ‘odd-job calling’—tales of exceptional bravery and ruthless deceit, and some useful hints on how to disguise journalistic intent. The prize here goes to the late Sue Lloyd-Roberts who disarmed the powerful and foxed the police by going around as a dopey tourist in a straw hat and flower-print cotton dress.This is a view from the ground up, and full of surprises. The finest piece of British TV writing, in Simpson’s view, is Michael Buerk’s report on the ‘Biblical’ Ethiopian famine in 1984, which launched Live Aid. This piece was not commissioned to help the starving, rather it was to spike the guns of the BBC’s rival, ITN, which was planning a special report on hunger. Such are the haphazard origins of agenda-setting reporting. There is an elegiac tone to the book. Even if the essence of the trade remains, it has been ‘diminished and controlled’ for technical, financial and security reasons. For Simpson’s first 30 years, his job was a joy to practise and governments and rebels accepted representatives of the media as people to be courted, or at least tolerated. In Simpson’s view, the magic spell which protected us lost its power in the 1990s: he came across drunken Bosnian Serb militiamen discussing how they were going to divide up his crew by gender into those to be killed and those to be raped. As for myself, I would date the change a bit earlier. When I was working for Reuters in Beirut in 1982, I was stopped by a group of armed men who piled into my Fiat and demanded to be driven to the front line in the war with the Israeli Army. They had a loud debate in the back of the car whether to dispose of me and steal the vehicle. In the end, their leader decreed that ‘the media serve the interests of the revolution’. The spell was intact. Three years later, Terry Anderson, my opposite number at the Associated Press, was kidnapped by Shia gunmen emboldened by the rise of political Islam. We did not serve their revolution. Next to this, technological advances meant that the editors in London were now able to micro-manage coverage. Top TV reporters were confined to a scenic rooftop where they mouthed platitudes for rolling news. Only Sky News—a motorbike to the BBC’s bumbling bus—still allows its reporters, such as Alex Crawford in Libya, to act as free-ish agents. The new age has also dented the prestige of authority figures such as Simpson, along with other experts. But Simpson is not afraid to insist that real eyewitness reporting is still necessary and must be paid for. He quotes another old BBC hand, the thoughtful Allan Little: ‘It has the power to settle part of the argument, to close down propaganda, to challenge myth- making’ (p. 347). This, sadly, does not seem to be true anymore. Alan Philps, Chatham House, UK

Conflict, security and defence

Religion on the battlefield. By Ron E. Hassner. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2016. 222pp. £18.39. isbn 978 0 80145 107 2. Available as e-book. Although today’s scholars often focus on the way religion serves as both a motivation and a justification for terrorist organizations and individual fanatics to undertake unspeak- able acts of carnage and destruction, religion can have a diverse impact on the battlefield, including on the operations conducted by professional militaries. This observation might seem obvious to those familiar with military history, but—as Ron E. Hassner notes in this finely crafted and timely monograph—scholars have recently dismissed the important, albeit sometimes subtle, ways that religion can shape the course and conduct of individual 436

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Conflict, security and defence battles or entire campaigns. Religion can exert an influence on the timing, location and conduct of battle—even when the combatants are co-religionists. Hassner begins his study by suggesting that religious practices and considerations can facilitate or inhibit military operations, depending on how they are viewed by friend, foe or third parties. When they bolster morale and unit cohesion, religious practices and chaplains can motivate troops to carry out their tasks, acting as a force multiplier. Sacred spaces and sacred times can also limit and channel combat, redirecting it away from locations and days of religious importance. When these constraints are violated in war—such as the allied bombing of the Abbey of Monte Cassino in the Second World War—a political backlash can occur where claims of military necessity are overpowered by the revulsion brought about by the loss of important religious monuments. Whenever possible, professional militaries as well as individual soldiers avoid harming religious sites and chaplains. This behaviour is prompted not only by the belief that it is morally wrong—or downright unlucky—to kill clerics or to destroy sacred places, but by the conviction that such attacks provoke the enemy. Hassner also highlights how the effects of religion in war can be subtle, difficult to antic- ipate and inconsistent. Japanese officers, for instance, selected a Sunday morning for their attack on Pearl Harbor, believing that ships would be in port and that their crews would be recovering from a night spent enjoying Honolulu’s nightlife. The Japanese were spot on in their estimate, but they failed to anticipate the political reaction to the timing of their attack, which produced a ‘provocation’ according to Hassner’s analytical framework. Over 75 years later, the fact that an opponent will stoop to exploit an idyllic Sunday morning to launch an attack reverberates in American strategic and political culture. By contrast, British and German bombing campaigns unfolded with reckless abandon during the Second World War, levelling urban areas and leaving populations more dazed than motivated by the loss of churches and buildings of religious significance. Religion on the battlefield concludes with a fine case-study of how religious considerations shaped the conduct and course of the 2003 invasion of Iraq—as well as highlighting the efforts developed by the United States to understand and to accommodate local religious practices and mannerisms. Chaplains were encouraged to serve as liaisons to local religious leaders and human terrain-mapping teams were sent out to document indigenous social networks, which reflected religious differences. Hassner notes that this sort of intelli- gence work is both difficult to undertake and to operationalize—it is not always possible to produce ‘actionable’ intelligence from local commanders based on mapping religious differences. Nevertheless, Hassner has produced a thoughtful and interesting survey that is of immediate political and strategic importance. In an age when social media can turn a minor local insult into an international crisis, soldiers and politicians alike ignore the impact of religion on war at their peril. James J. Wirtz, Naval Postgraduate School, USA

The darkening web: the war for cyberspace. By Alexander Klimburg. New York: Penguin Press. 2017. 400pp. Index. £13.72. isbn 978 1 59420 666 5. Available as e-book. The virtual weapon and international order. By Lucas Kello. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press. 2017. 336pp. Index. £20.29. isbn 978 0 30022 023 0. Available­ as e-book. Although different in their scope, both Alexander Klimburg’s and Lucas Kello’s books shed a particularly stimulating light on what is commonly described as the geopolitics of ­cyberspace. 437

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As The darkening web illustrates, analysing the geopolitical implications of cyberspace is profoundly challenging—the pace of the internet rarely matches the length of a necessarily strenuous writing process. Both the National Security Agency (NSA) debacle and many of the disclosures related to the Kremlin’s alleged interference in the 2016 US presiden- tial election occurred after Klimburg completed his manuscript. Despite these omissions, the book is a successful attempt at decompartmentalizing international politics and cyber studies. The author’s central argument is that cyberspace has become an arena for large- scale international security competition, fought in an increasingly uncivilized ecosystem of digital aggression and overt information warfare. One area of fierce contention has been the ‘battle’ for internet governance. The issue has long been ignored and restricted to small silos of experts. However, the documents disclosed by Edward Snowden triggered a massive backlash to the US’ historical ‘steward- ship’ of the internet. Furthermore, in recent years and particularly since the Arab Spring, governments around the world have become more alert to the disruptive potential of access to digital communications. Thus the line between technical and political governance is being increasingly blurred, predominantly—but not exclusively—by authoritarian governments who fear the ‘subversive power’ of networked technologies from both a political and an economic perspective. Unsurprisingly, Russia features prominently throughout the book. Klimburg describes Russia’s successive cyber attacks on the infrastructure of Estonia, Georgia and Ukraine, as well as documenting its dissemination of fake news—and the hacking of America’s Democratic National Committee’s emails in 2016. The Russian leadership sees the internet as a profoundly disruptive technology that threatens not only government-to-government relations, but also, and more importantly, the stability and integrity of nations. (This also highlights how the dissemination of networked technologies has increased the impact of domestic concerns on the formulation of Russia’s foreign policy.) Another stimulating insight into Moscow’s internet policy is that Russia—as a country seeking to challenge the international consensus on a number of issues—is eager to shift the western narra- tive on the current global governance regime of the internet, where the US still retains considerable leverage. Klimburg notes how, due to this, Vladimir Putin used Edward Snowden’s disclosure­ of NSA operations to charge the US with ‘cyber hypocrisy’. The perceived ‘American hegemony’ leads to two conclusions in the eyes of the Kremlin. First, the internet is a dangerous place and instrument in the hands of a hostile America—which emphasizes Moscow’s largely neo-Hobbesian view of international politics. Second, Moscow must have a US-centric cyber and information foreign policy—which is driven by both a deep anti-Americanism persisting in the top Russian foreign policy and security elites, and a will to position Russia as an exclusive interlocutor to Washington in key inter- national negotiations on, most notably, cyber norms. On the ‘information’ level, Moscow seeks to stir up widespread distrust in the western political system and values—understood as rule of law-based democracy. On the ‘cyber’ level, Russia is eager to challenge NATO member states’ reactions and capacities. This subtle combination has been poorly under- stood in the West—at least until the holistic nature of Russia’s strategy was dissected during the 2016–2017 electoral cycle in western democracies. Lucas Kello’s The virtual weapon extends some of Klimburg’s ideas—perhaps in a more structured and theoretical manner. The book’s main purpose is to explore the likely effect of ‘cyber’ on the balance of power among nations, as well as prospects for conflict and competi- tion. For the past few years, geopolitical friction has been contributing to a surge in the scale and sophistication of cyberattacks, particularly well-resourced efforts with state backing. 438

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Political economy, economics and development

One of Kello’s most fascinating insights relates to the attribution problem—‘the signa- ture of power in cyberspace’ (p. 129). It is still very hard to identify the origins of a cyber- attack—the perpetrators might hide behind a group of hackers or computers in another country. The quasi-impossibility of knowing precisely who attacked you makes the right to self-defence obsolete. This was demonstrated by President Barack Obama’s long hesita- tion about attributing the cyberattacks and intrusions perpetrated during the presidential campaign to the Russian government. For reasons that have more to do with geopolitics, the US did not want to be the first nation to declare a ‘cyberwar’—an American cyber attack targeting Russian networks, for instance, would open both a technical and a legal Pandora’s box. Though it fits into the framework of International Relations (IR) theory,The virtual weapon avoids a trap IR academics commonly fall into when analysing cyber issues. Policy- makers and academics have a hard time keeping up with how cybersecurity is changing ‘on the ground’. Alarmist debates about whether ‘cyberwar’ would take place did make senior policy-makers and the public care about cybersecurity, but they have also made them focus on threats from other states and interstate conflict. Due to this, Kello asserts that they have systematically neglected the role that hackers ‘from outside the states system’ (p. 187) play as proxies and how they facilitate state actors to develop and quickly deploy offensive cyber capabilities. It is now clear that actors other than states can cause significant harm through hacking. In fact, less sophisticated actors can potentially pose a greater risk than sophis- ticated ones—they often lack the skills to develop more precise codes that would limit the effect of the malware. TheWannaCry ransomware that hit 250,000 computer systems worldwide in 2017, and forced hospitals in the United Kingdom to turn patients away, demonstrates what can happen if a less sophisticated actor uses malware with an intent to cause harm. Julien Nocetti, IFRI, France

Political economy, economics and development

My life, our times. By Gordon Brown. London: The Bodley Head. 2017. 512pp. £12.50. isbn 978 1 84792 497 1. Available as e-book. Grave new world: the end of globalization, the return of history. By Stephen D. King. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press. 2017. 304pp. £15.44. isbn 978 0 30021 804 6. Available as e-book. Straight talk on trade: ideas for a sane world economy. By Dani Rodrik. Princeton, NJ, and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 2017. 336pp. £18.28. isbn 978 0 69117 784 7. Available as e-book. What links a former prime minister, a former chief economist and an academic? They have all recently written about globalization. The current wave of globalization started roughly at the beginning of the 1980s and coincided with new approaches to economic policy—notably Thatcherism in the United Kingdom, Reaganism in the United States and the ‘opening up’ of China driven by Deng Xiaoping’s reforms. In My life, our times Gordon Brown traces how these developments overlapped and affected his political trajec- tory. Brown was first elected to parliament in 1983 and was actively involved in politics and government, as Chancellor of the Exchequer and subsequently as prime minister, for the following three decades. 439

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To some extent Gordon Brown—who, with Tony Blair, developed New Labour and implemented a market-friendly economic agenda—embodies the dichotomy between global markets—and the idea that they can create a more prosperous world for all—and nation-states, which Dani Rodrik discusses in Straight talk on trade. Brown was, and remains, an unrepentant supporter of multilateral trade and of global governance through global rules and institutions, which are, according to Rodrik, ‘the mantra of our era’s elite’ (p. 16). Brown is a globalist and thus unlikely to score many points with today’s populists. As Theresa May famously stated, ‘if you are citizen of the world, you are citizen of nowhere’. All this is the backdrop against which Stephen D. King sets his book Grave new world, concluding that globalization and liberalism—and the world that we have known since the Second World War—are over. It is the end of history, according to King, meaning ‘our version of history’, for ‘those of us living in the West’, of steady and continuous progress. King frames his analysis in institutional terms and argues that because ideas underpin ­institutions, when the former begin to shift ‘with alarming regularity’ as today, the latter risk collapsing. We are now on the brink of another sustained period of turmoil and disin- tegration, similar to the one which ended the golden era of globalization, which lasted from the last decade of the nineteenth century to the First World War. As the political narrative of the last few years has made clear, inequality, mass migration, new technologies, fiscal austerity and competitive monetary policy are all factors of disruption and triggers of disruptive politics. This sorry state of the world, for King, is the result of a series of policy mistakes and the unconditional belief in the benefit of globalization—which were fuelled by many economists who should have known better. Rodrik frames his argument in similar, albeit not conceptually aligned, terms. For him the idea—or utopian presumption—of managing global markets through gover- nance is delusory. Globalization, democracy and national sovereignty cannot be achieved simultaneously, we need to choose a combination of two: globalization and democracy, without national sovereignty; or globalization and national sovereignty, with constrained ­democracy; or democracy and national sovereignty without globalization. I have a great deal of sympathy for Rodrik’s argument that there is thin empirical evidence for the benefits of globalization, and that costs to local economies and communities are disregarded. Rodrik reminds policy-makers of the preferences and trade-offs made when designing and imple- menting policies. In democracies these preferences are expressed by voters, but multilateral trade agreements and multilateral financial safety nets often stamp on democracy, citizens’ rights, cultures and identities. There are plenty of examples that show how ‘one size fits all’ simply does not work. Rodrik is also right to criticize structural reforms—a key tool of neo-liberal policy-making. The crisis in southern European countries, with Greece at its core, illustrates how structural reforms are seen as the solution regardless of the underlying problems, the sequencing of interventions and even their expected impact. But I find problematic Rodrik’s approach to Europe, starting with the concept of the nation-state. Is it the right unit? Do ethnical, cultural and linguistic divisions within states not require some consideration? Moreover, Rodrik seems to rule out the possibility that the EU can provide a reference and a sense of direction when national politics is too dysfunc- tional. Greece and Italy come to mind, especially when, at the peak of the sovereign debt crisis in 2011, non-elected technical governments replaced the elected governments which were unable to manage the emergency. Was it non-democratic interference? Or was it a necessary intervention in order to preserve democracy? These are all important questions that Rodrik’s book raises. As for the solutions, there are plenty of untested suggestions. Those put forward in Grave new world are the weakest, 440

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Political economy, economics and development as they revolve around increasing global governance and new institutions, which are unlikely to find traction under current circumstances. This leaves Gordon Brown and his fair, compassionate and progressive domestic agenda, where market failures are addressed through policies, rules are put in place to preserve and maintain public goods—from finan- cial stability to environmental sustainability—and where different dimensions—local, regional, national and international—are included. A still compelling agenda, and perhaps what we need for the post-globalization world. Paola Subacchi, Chatham House, UK

Governing through goals: Sustainable Development Goals as governance innova- tion. Edited by Norichika Kanie and Frank Biermann. Cambridge, MA, and London: The MIT Press. 2017. 352pp. Index. £74.95. isbn 978 0 26203 562 0. Available as e-book. Global governance in the Anthropocene is challenging for the planet and humanity; it is a multi-level, multi-dimensional and multi-stakeholder endeavour calling on the interna- tional system to transcend its anarchic and ‘glocal’ power configurations. The 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and the overarching 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development make the international to-do list for change more complex. This is as the SDGs encompass economic, social and environmental concerns—as well as involving all countries, all levels of decision-making and new actors. Synergies, cross-sectoral knowledge and local adapt- ability will be essential for their implementation. This edited volume is an output of the transdisciplinary Earth System Governance Project: an international research network which explores integrated governance systems that can ensure sustainability from the local to the global level. The contributors critically investigate goal setting and goal implementation as a new strategy, focusing on SDGs as a fundamental instrument for global governance towards 2030. They attempt to predict the potential usefulness and pitfalls of the SDGs in steering policies, actions and partnerships to attain sustainable development globally within the next 13 years. Published immediately after the adoption of the SDGs, the book is inherently prescriptive. The first part of the volume explains goal setting as an innovative governance mecha- nism, which integrates a ‘soft diplomacy approach’ in an increasingly ‘polycentric’ world system, and how it can complement more traditional rule making (chapters two to five). Oran R. Young and his co-authors suggest combining ‘aspirational’ goal setting and ‘prescriptive’ rule making—as neither of them is sufficient on its own (pp. 48–9), and call for a sustainability Grundnorm—an underlying, basic norm—to interpret existing laws through the sustainability lens in order to ‘build cooperative relationships among SDGs’ and guide ‘intertemporal priority setting’ beyond 2030 (p. 69). Frank Biermann et al. suggest including indicators of good, effective and equitable governance for every SDG (pp. 91–2). Finally, László Pintér et al. warn that SDGs will only prove transformative when measure- ment indicators are reformed to include eco-social factors (p. 115) and are linked to local governments and non-governmental organizations through a ‘bottom-up’ and ‘two-track’ approach (pp. 112 and 117). Part two looks at lessons learned from the previous global governance period (2000– 2015) through case-studies of the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) (chapters six to eight). Peter M. Haas and Casey Stevens foresee that interlinkages among SDGs will happen incrementally, through social learning at multiple levels (p. 157). Steinar Andresen and Masahiko Iguchi discuss the negotiations of the previous OECD International Devel- opment Goals and the MDGs and provide examples highlighting the role of individual 441

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews leadership in goal implementation (pp. 165–83). Lastly, Takahiro Yamada proposes a type of global governance based on different degrees of ‘coerciveness’ and ‘directness’, whereby SDGs become ‘goal-based hybrid governance’, and that ‘enablement’ skills, such as ‘activa- tion’, ‘orchestration’ and ‘modulation’, be used to counter the risk of a lack of effectiveness and manageability (pp. 190–94). Finally, part three explores SDG operationalization—focusing on the High Level Political Forum on Sustainable Development (HLPF)—through ‘governance diffusion’ (p. 278), financing needs, the private sector and vertical and horizontal policy coherence (chapters nine to twelve). Steven Bernstein analyses the possibility of the HLPF to become the leading body in a crowded multi-level system, as an ‘orchestrator of orchestrators’ (p. 214). Arild Underdal and Rakhyun Kim express concern about the manner in which the SDGs will operate, in a fragmented, ‘siloized’ system (pp. 252–4). Tancrede Voituriez et al. explore funding needs and the necessity of private-sector involvement through ‘blending’ and ‘public–private partnerships’ (pp. 259–71). Joyeeta Gupta and Måns Nilsson propose an action framework with mechanisms for vertical and horizontal integration (p. 288). The introduction and conclusion contextualize the discussion within the recent history of sustainable development and identify pathways for future research. The contributors put greater emphasis on the environmental component of sustain- ability as opposed to development: this follows growing concerns regarding the unsustain- ability of the contemporary growth paradigm, and is in line with the enlarged SDG scope of action which comprises both developing and developed countries. It also mirrors inter- national conceptual tensions between these categories of countries (developed or devel- oping), which prevented goal prioritization during the negotiations (pp. 143–4). However, it would still resonate with the glocal approach of the book to give more space to articula- tions of traditionally conceived developmental (economic and social) and environmental concerns in different regions of the world and across regions. This book is an enriching read and the chapters complement each other in a coherent and constructively critical manner, providing a solid basis from which to explore and reflect on potential pathways for global sustainability governance towards 2030. Valentina Brogna, Université Saint-Louis Bruxelles, Belgium

Energy, environment and global health*

Regulating the polluters: markets and strategies for protecting the global environ- ment. By Alexander Ovodenko. New York: Oxford University Press. 2017. 256pp. £42.42. isbn 978 0 19067 772 5. Available as e-book. Is concentrated business power bad for the environment? Alexander Ovodenko’s Regulating the polluters bucks intuition by showing how, under certain conditions, oligopolies can in fact facilitate effective environmental protection at the international level. This carefully researched study makes a valuable contribution to the international political economy liter- ature on environmental protection, a field whose increasing importance to global politics has not yet been matched by commensurate attention from International Relations (IR) scholarship. Ovodenko argues that the market structure of the industry producing an environmental harm shapes the nature of international regulatory agreements that states create to manage

* See Leanne Welham and Sophie Harman, Pili, pp. 458–59. 442

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Energy, environment and global health that harm. Both the concentration of producers and the elasticity of demand matter. When producers are oligopolistic and consumers have few options, companies are able to generate and diffuse the technological innovations required to satisfy environmental regulations, in part by passing costs along to consumers. International regulatory regimes will therefore be legally binding, integrated and standardized, as oligopolies will have incentives to ‘level the playing field’. In contrast, when producers are fragmented and consumers can pick and choose among them—or simply decide not to buy the products in question—producers will have little ability or incentive to generate and diffuse environmental technologies. They will therefore oppose ‘command and control’ style regulation and states will instead create non-binding obligations, disconnected international rules and divergent standards. Ovodenko shows how this market explanation of regime design applies across a range of environmental issues in a series of well-chosen, empirical comparisons. For example, states have sought to regulate ‘international’ greenhouse gases from maritime shipping and aviation—neither of which can be straightforwardly attributed to a single country—in specialized international organizations. But in the past regulation has moved faster for shipping than for airlines, a difference Ovodenko attributes to the highly competitive nature of the airline business. Customers can choose between a range of airlines, and will simply choose not to fly if prices are too high, while in international shipping, even if marginally more expensive, such circumstances matter little to purchase decisions. Other chapters exploit variation within a single issue area, showing how, even in the same treaty, regulation of ozone-depleting substances or mercury is highly legalized and centralized for industrial processes with a few large producers, but more voluntary and diffuse for more competitive industries. The chapters on aviation and shipping, ozone and mercury are particularly valuable empirical contributions because they address aspects of those regimes poorly represented in the IR literature. An important scope condition of the book is that it considers only cases in which some kind of international regulation has emerged. Given a decision to regulate, oligopolies can help create hard, centralized regimes. But, as Ovodenko notes, concentrated business power is a ‘double edged sword’, because it may also prevent states from regulating in the first place. The literature on business regulation contains countless examples of how powerful business interests are able to avoid or weaken regulation, or even undo existing regulation. Exploring negative cases, in which regulation is attempted but fails, or in which it is rolled back, would have perhaps created a more balanced interpretation of the role of oligopo- listic business power in regulation. Moreover, though Ovodenko’s theory explains why businesses may prefer certain kinds of international regimes over others, the book does not devote much attention to how certain preferences win out over others in domestic politics. Nor does it explore how negotiations between states are shaped by differential power. Such ‘two level game’ approaches, a standard international political economy framework, are assumed but not developed in Ovodenko’s argument. Without considering such dynamics, it is difficult forRegulating the polluters to rebut plausible alternative or complementary explanations for some of the empirical examples raised in the book. For example, is the regulation of mercury for artisanal gold mining soft law because of the industry’s market structure, or is it because such mining happens almost exclusively in poorer countries in sub-Saharan Africa? Are agricultural applica- tions of ozone-depleting substances regulated less stringently than industrial ones because the industry is less concentrated, or is it instead because electoral institutions give farmers greater sway in domestic politics in key countries? Is regulation of aviation more difficult than regulation of shipping because the market structures are different, or because airlines 443

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews and aircraft manufacturers matter a lot to big markets like the United States, which is able to resist regulation, while the shipping industry is dominated by smaller nations? As a theory-building book, Regulating the polluters remains valuable despite leaving the reader wondering what other factors may account for some of the empirical examples raised. Certainly it shows that students of international environmental politics must consider the structure of markets in order to understand how business interests may shape regulatory outcomes. In this way, Ovodenko provides an important theoretical argument to the growing literature on international regulation. Thomas Hale, University of Oxford, UK

The new politics of energy security in the European Union and beyond: states, markets, institutions. By Andrea Prontera. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. 2017. 254pp. £83.04. isbn 978 1 47247 692 0. Available as e-book. This book offers an innovative insight into the politics of energy security in the European Union, for which existing literature has sometimes proposed rather simplistic explanations. Andrea Prontera aims to explain the European approach to security of supply by proposing three theses. First, that despite the fact that the balance in the institutional structure of European energy security has shifted from states to the market, states still play a funda- mental role in the practice of EU energy security governance. Second, that interactions among states, markets and institutions must be put into specific geographical, historical and institutional contexts to understand the patterns of transformation in energy security policy. Third, that recent developments in European energy security suggest a combina- tion of new and old dynamics. These theses are tested through an analytical framework which combines International Political Economy (IPE) with historical institutionalism. The former is applied to explore the state–market nexus and the latter to consider the path-dependent nature of the politics of energy security. The book draws on IPE literature on the forms of states to explain the emergence of new patterns of energy diplomacy and the changing relationship between market actors and political authorities. More specifically, it focuses on provider states and catalytic states— and the transition from the former to the latter. The provider state foresees a limited role for public intervention and emphasizes multilateral patterns of energy diplomacy. In EU energy security policy, provider state dynamics manifest in processes of deregulation, liberalization and privatization in energy markets as well as in the European Commission’s effort to internationally promote a market approach to energy policy by projecting internal market rules beyond EU borders. Since the late 2000s, however, the EU has started demon- strating certain characteristics of catalytic states, where governments are strategic actors in a liberalized market environment, willing to support market actors and facilitate their efforts to realize specific investment projects on energy security. The European Commission now has a major role in EU energy security and member states have put greater emphasis on their foreign energy policies. Prontera traces the EU’s transition to a catalytic state across three policy areas. First, in the external energy governance of the EU, strategies for promoting energy security have created institutional arrangements that extend the EU’s rules and principles beyond its borders (chapter two). Second, Prontera discusses the politics of pipelines (chapter three), Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) and development (chapter four). Finally, he examines the politics and policies of offshore hydrocarbon exploration and exploitation (chapter five). His case-studies provide strong support for the rise of the catalytic state in the EU. National 444

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Energy, environment and global health governments support companies in building pipelines; apply policy instruments combining market-oriented tools with more direct, ad hoc measures and new modes of public involve- ment in ownership (e.g. LNG); inter-state coalitions are being created to support the projects proposed by energy companies; and EU institutions are involved in the export plans for the monetization of gas resources (e.g. offshore hydrocarbon). The richness of empirical data is a remarkable feature of this book. The detailed case- studies show a thorough knowledge of the objectives of the actors involved—from the EU as a whole to specific EU and non-EU countries—as well as of the specific features of EU external governance, pipelines, LNG and offshore activities. The case-studies are so comprehensive that, at times, readers might risk losing the link with the broader theoretical framework of the book, but specific sections at the end or within the chapters ensure that this will not be the case. Finally, the implication of this work is particularly interesting because it invites readers to rethink EU energy security strategy in terms of vertical and horizontal coherence. Prontera shows that it is important to consider the interaction among state and non-state actors at the national, supranational and subnational level. This is true for many policy areas, but it holds particularly for energy security given its links to domestic and foreign affairs, as well as the long-term perspective needed to address energy problems. The book therefore suggests that political agreements and a common understanding of the main goals and direction of the European integration process are needed to ‘coordinate actors’ strate- gies and promote coherent and effective policy responses to the current challenges’ (p. 237). Francesca Batzella, University of Hertfordshire, UK

Blue skies over Beijing: economic growth and the environment in China. By Matthew E. Kahn and Siqi Zheng. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. 2016. 288pp. Index. £27.95. isbn 978 0 69116 936 1. Available as e-book. When China launched its campaign to reduce emissions during the Asia–Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) Summit in 2014, in order to clear the haze and fog which have become permanent features of Beijing, the occurrence of a blue sky over Beijing caused the phrases ‘APEC Blue’ to storm the internet. Despite the enthusiasm, the arrangement largely concerned temporary measures and is not a substitute for a long-term plan to reduce air pollution. In discussing this, Blue skies over Beijing provides an interesting account of how urbanization in China is causing environmental problems; the book pushes for sustainable urban growth. Blue skies over Beijing, building on the experiences of cities in the United States, is optimistic about future ecological progress as both central and local government in China are promoting sustainable development to create a ‘Beautiful China’. The book thereby moves away from the usual non-Chinese discourse on environmental problems in China which tend to be pessimistic. In the first part of the book, Matthew E. Kahn and Siqi Zheng examine the geograph- ical distribution of the urban population in China by investigating urban industrializa- tion, the migration to cities, the causes and consequences of Chinese suburbanization and private vehicle demand in urban China. The second part emphasizes the rising demand for a greener China by looking at the lives of children, youth and the elderly. Part three shows that there is a growing desire for environmental protection and environmental account- ability in the country. In examining the environmental impact of China’s industrial production, Kahn and Zheng assert that the geographical distribution of industries and the availability of coal (p. 445

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27), together with a somewhat relaxed hukou (household registration system), prompted the migration of industrial workers to eastern and coastal cities. This has not only worsened pollution but also caused the cost of living to soar. Despite this, the authors now observe a new trend across China: manufacturing is moving away from the wealthy coastal megaci- ties (p. 31). This industrial relocation strategy allows provincial governments to reduce the environmental impact on the big cities while simultaneously helping their underper- forming areas. Kahn and Zheng calculate that a ten percentage point reduction of manufac- turing jobs in a city will reduce its air pollution (PM10 concentration) by 3 per cent (p. 35). Moreover, shifting industries to smaller cities reduces the number of people exposed to pollution and, as new industries are greener, the overall air pollution is further reduced (p. 36). Blue skies over Beijing asserts that part of this shift is due to the rapid growth of bullet trains. This has not only ensured the relocation of industries, but its low-carbon technology could also further reduce the use of private cars. Finally, Kahn and Zheng state that political stability in China now hinges on whether or not the expectations of poor migrants are met in cities and believe that the liberalization of the hukou regime would reduce urban–rural inequality. Thus it appears that there has been a change. Pollution poses severe health risks and affects the overall growth trajectory of China, and both the government and the public are aware that if coming environmental crises are not averted, they have the potential to destabilize China’s rise. Nevertheless, the party and officials have tended to favour economic growth over environmental protection. However, Blue skies over Beijing contends that a ‘regime shift’ has taken place, as environmental and energy efficiency criteria are now explicitly incorporated into the nation’s performance targets (p. 160). Kahn and Zheng provide three explanations for this paradigm shift. First, the new leaders of China have stronger prefer- ences for clean water and blue skies than previous leaders. Second, the Communist Party is seeking to boost its political legitimacy by implementing a more ambitious environmental protection agenda which appeals to domestic and international audiences. Third, the central government believes that the rest of the world is embracing a low-carbon energy agenda thereby creating a market imperative for China to become a technological and economic leader in this field (p. 162). Blue skies over Beijing also recognizes that civil society in China is instrumental in spreading environmental awareness and promoting the environmental and ecological agenda, as well as being the critical link between policy formulation and implementation. One ambiguity in Blue skies over Beijing is the problematic nature of translating and inter- preting hukou as ‘internal passport’. Moreover, although one of the authors is Chinese, the book cites mostly from English-language media. For example, Kahn and Zheng highlight that Chinese media have started devoting much greater attention to environmental issues, but refer to Google news items to substantiate their argument. However, Kahn and Zheng’s book is an essential read for students of economics, polit- ical science and environment studies. Rajiv Ranjan, Shanghai University College of Liberal Arts, China

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Europe* Framing the EU Global Strategy: a stronger Europe in a fragile world. By Nathalie Tocci. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. 2017. 184pp. Pb.: £12.46. isbn 978 3 31955 585 0. Available as e-book. The EU’s foreign, security and defence policy has been a desolate space in the last few years in terms of innovation and development, as well as being bereft of purpose, vision and unity. The two recent and bright exceptions are the EU Global Strategy (EUGS), published in June 2017, and more recently the activation of Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) in the field of defence in December 2017. Framing the EU Global Strategy is a revealing, elegant and pleasant account of why, how and when the EUGS was conceived, drafted and accepted by the EU and its member states, written by the EUGS’s main author Nathalie Tocci. Tocci was invited by Federica Mogherini, the EU’s High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, to compile the EUGS. Despite possibly being considered a ‘foreign element’ in EU institu- tional terms and perhaps not being trusted by resident Eurocrats, Tocci succeeded—under Mogherini’s aegis—in drafting a policy paper accepted by the EU and all its members in toto. More importantly, though, Tocci set an agenda which should guide the EU’s foreign and security policy for many years to come. The EUGS, according to Tocci, is neither an ‘action plan’ nor an account of the world as it ought to be. Mogherini wanted a strategy which would ‘provide the EU and its Member States with a common sense strategic direction that would ultimately guide action’ (pp. 33–4). Thus the EUGS sets out a strategy for EU action not merely as a response to events nor as a reaction to US policy, but based on a pragmatic understanding of a changing world order—and a changing EU position within that order—that necessitates stricter focus on the realities of geopolitics and interests. There are two major departures in the EUGS from the standard EU line. First, while it reaffirms the EU’s global agenda in some areas, it openly acknowledges thatgeopolitics ­ matters and that Europe’s neighbourhood should be the priority arena. The document stresses that while the world is ‘connected’ and that regions are interlinked and not isolated from each other’s influence, the EU should look closer to home and concentrate action specifically on its eastern and southern neighbourhoods. These regions have a direct and immediate effect on the EU and its citizens in material terms, whether as regards Russian revisionism or the refugee concerns due to conflicts in Libya or Syria. The second major departure in the EUGS from conventional thinking is that interests are given equal footing with values as a source of EU foreign and security policy. The EU’s liberal values are still of supreme importance—even though they are to become ‘internal more than external’ (p. 61)—but the strategy recognizes that pragmatism should be the guiding principle of EU decision-making in the foreign/security policy field, according interests due weight within policy formulation. Indeed, the term ‘principled pragmatism’ leaps out of the text to any student of EU foreign policy, as it is a soaring departure from previous EU foreign policy language steeped in normative concerns and the spreading of values. Tocci puts up a brave defence of this redirection in EU thinking—or strategizing— attempting to convince readers that this is not a turn to crude realpolitik or the supremacy of material interests over values. She stresses that interests and values are mutually constitutive and proposes that ‘“principled pragmatism” [is] the notion that sought to square of [sic] the circle’ (p. 55) of idealism and realism.

* See also Andrea Prontera, The new politics of energy security in the European Union and beyond, pp. 444–5. 447

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I have no doubt that Tocci’s reaction to this review would be to criticize latching on to the geopolitical and, more importantly, the interest/values dimensions to the strategy. In fact, she notes in the book that many commentators on EU foreign policy have focused on these dimensions to the detriment of other issues—such as building resilience in neigh- bouring states and regions—that deserve equal attention. But it is so striking a departure, that I, too, have succumbed to the attraction of these innovations and felt the need to accord them due emphasis here. There is one more noteworthy strand of argument in the book which reveals much about the origins and purpose of the strategy. The EUGS was meant to reflect the EU’s position in a turbulent and fluctuating international system, a ‘contested’ world in the language of the Strategy, and to set out strategic guidelines of potential action based on interests—and values—bound by serious geopolitical considerations. Equally, it was meant to focus atten- tion on internal divisions within the EU as well as to rekindle ‘some Europeans to the European project’ (p. 42) and create ‘a degree of political unity in the Union as a whole’ (p. 17). This marks an interesting conceptual link between foreign and security policy and the idea of Europe, where the formulation of strategic direction and action towards the outside world is used as a way of defining and perhaps reaffirming European unity and even identity. This bears a strong resemblance to the very inception of EU foreign policy in the form of the European Political Cooperation (EPC) in the 1970s, which also emerged as a response to concerns regarding political unity. In conclusion, Tocci has managed to outline the raison d’être of the EUGS, and its possible implications, in a manner which is neither self-serving nor overbearing. Framing the EU Global Strategy thus sheds much light on a policy process which resulted in a strategy that will have long-term effects on the EU’s position in the world. Spyros Economides, London School of Economics and Political Science, UK

Nordic states and European integration: awkward partners in the north? Edited by Malin Stegmann McCallion and Alex Brianson. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. 2017. 160pp. £44.99. isbn 978 3 31957 561 2. Available as e-book. This is a very British book, but with a Brussels perspective on European integration, though this may sound like a contradiction. Inspired by the allegedly ‘awkward’ nature of the United Kingdom’s relationship with the EU—including its nearing exit—the editors wish to find out if there are other ‘awkward’ partners in the European integration process. Malin Stegmann McCallion and Alex Brianson assert that the UK cannot be the only awkward pupil in the class and have selected the Nordic countries as candidates. ‘Awkward’ is understood as being ‘difficult to deal with’ (p. 2) for the other participants in a regional integration process, because the awkward partners ‘routinely stay outside the mainstream in their particular regions’ (p. 2), typically with opt-outs (p. 131). However, ‘such states are not automatically perceived as “awkward” by their partners’ (p. 2). In other words, the definition is not about partners’ perceptions, but about the editors’ own classi- fication. For explanatory purposes, a number of independent variables in relation to the dependent variable of awkwardness are stipulated—for instance, a ‘relationship with [an] extra-regional security guarantor’ (the United States) or policy preferences (p. 4, table 1.1). However, the schema lacks the more interesting and less self-evident factor of historical experience—including past geopolitics. Judged from the ensuing individual chapters and previous studies, this is actually the most important explanatory factor in relation to a country’s integration profile. Furthermore, the added value of classifying states as awkward 448

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Europe or the opposite is doubtful. No theory exists that connects awkwardness to other properties and we already have concepts in the literature (like ‘Eurocautiousness’, ‘Euroscepticism’ or Toivo Miljan’s ‘reluctant Europeans’) to describe the Nordic states—concepts that are less normative (‘awkward’ is obviously a negatively loaded term as in ‘awkward behaviour’ or an ‘awkward situation’). To discuss the purported awkwardness of the Nordic states, this edited volume includes chapters on each of the five Nordic countries and their national positions on European integration. Each of these chapters starts with a historical perspective—illustrating the countries’ widely different reasons for entering into the integration process. Brianson sums up contributors’ results by asserting that ‘our book demonstrates conclusively that the concept of awkwardness has useful applications in the context of European integration that go beyond the obvious case of the UK. In fact, each of the five states studied here is an awkward partner for … the regional integration institutions and processes of Europe’ (p. 130). This is a gross overstatement of what is concluded in the individual chapters. For instance, Finland is correctly analysed as being a paragon of virtue in the EU, with a few minor exceptions. Moreover, in the Swedish case, Stegmann McCallion finds that ‘the awkwardness label sits somewhat uncomfortably’ (p. 59) and is explicit in her doubt about its applicability. In fact, there is nothing awkward about the Nordic states’ approach to European integra- tion. They had developed welfare states and a mutual security community on their own long before the European Community was invented. Unlike the south Europeans liberated from dictatorships or east Europeans liberated from communism, the Nordics did not need ‘salvation’—they could adopt a cautious attitude by weighing expected costs and benefits, which had a somewhat different outcome in each of the five countries: Finland chose to be a member without opt-outs; Sweden and, notably, Denmark ended up with various opt-outs; and Norway and Iceland stayed outside, although with participation in the internal market and the Schengen Agreement. However, their rationalistic attitudes were the same; none of them would risk jeopardizing past accomplishments. There is nothing awkward about this, unless one takes a strongly normative Brussels perspective—that complete European integration is somehow a teleological end-state. To the editors’ apparent surprise, therefore, these states are seldom seen as ‘awkward’ by their partners and are not being punished for their behaviour. By contrast, the integration approach of the Visegrád states, in particular Poland and Hungary, does seem to qualify as ‘awkward’. Despite their declared ‘illiberalism’, as well as their actual deeds opposing the value base of the whole EU project, they still do not have the slightest intention of leaving. That, indeed, is awkward. These states may prove fruitful future case-studies for the analytical frame at stake. However, in a Nordic context, it consti- tutes a straitjacket, which the book will be remembered for, but which to some extent overshadows the fine comparative content of the individual chapters. The concept’s analyt- ical value is questionable, although it will surely be a good sell in the United Kingdom. Nonetheless, and contrary to the expectations of some, the Nordic countries will not follow in British footsteps. Hans Mouritzen, Danish Institute for International Studies, Denmark

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Europe’s eastern crisis: the geopolitics of asymmetry. By Richard Youngs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2017. 262pp. Index. £64.99. isbn 978 1 10712 137 9. Available as e-book. Among the litany of books published about the European Union these last few years, it was not rare to see ‘Europe’ associated with ‘crisis’. While Richard Youngs’s book contains both words, he addresses geopolitical phenomena and problems (or ‘crises’) that occur outside the EU, in eastern Europe. Youngs’s book concentrates on the Russo-Ukrainian crisis that began in late 2013—though Europe’s eastern crisis does also discuss the relationship between the EU and the countries involved in the EU Eastern Partnership (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Georgia, the Republic of Moldova and Ukraine). On 29 November 2013, the Ukrai- nian president Viktor Yanukovych refused to sign an association agreement with the EU under Russian pressure. This provoked a national, regional and international crisis, which has lasted since then. The Ukrainian pro-European side was in favour of a closer relation- ship with the EU, while some Ukrainian pro-Russian supporters wanted rapprochement with Russia. What started as a national political crisis became a military and geopolitical crisis when the Russian military directly intervened in Ukrainian territory. This provoked the de facto separation of Crimea from Ukraine and its annexation by Russia. These events give Youngs the opportunity to reconsider EU foreign policy. The topic is not new and studies attempting to describe and explain the international role of the EU or to qualify the type of actor the EU is on the international stage have thrived since the 1990s. However, Youngs proposes his own framework to conceptualize and evaluate EU foreign policy in action, in the light of Russian policy in eastern Europe, particularly since the military destabilization of Ukraine. Youngs constructs four categories which describe the different types of responses that the EU could have had to the eastern crisis: standard EU approach, offensive geopolitics, defensive geopolitics and liberal-redux geopolitics. These categories oscillate between traditional European actions in strategic affairs, based on the use of civil tools and cooperative approaches to manage crises, and a stronger commit- ment, including the use of force, when responding to geopolitical issues. The liberal-redux geopolitical category sits in the middle as a hybrid response. After the annexation of Crimea, in February–March 2014, the EU’s response corre- sponded to liberal-redux geopolitics, including a mix of traditional cooperative responses and a more coercive approach: ‘sanctions against Russia; defensive security measures; an increased commitment to the Eastern Partnership; and changes to energy policy’ (p. 65). Youngs points to the limits of such a European response to what he considers a hard security crisis. He notes the absence of a European military response—while NATO and the United States were preparing scenarios for military responses—and the weak sanctions which did not affect some important aspect of the Russian economy, such as the oil and gas industries. Europe’s eastern crisis offers an informative and valuable analysis to readers looking for more than just a description of the Ukrainian crisis. Nevertheless, in addressing the important question of the role of Russia as a driver for change in EU foreign policy and in constructing a conceptual framework for analysis, the book does recreate the existing debate on the external actions of the EU. The categories elaborated by Youngs replicate the general debate over the EU as a civil power vs a military power or the EU as a provider of low security vs hard security. These distinctions have structured discussions on the foreign and defence policy of the EU since the 1990s. The fact that, 25 years after the creation of a Common Security and Defence Policy by the Maastricht Treaty, the EU is still subject to this type of interrogation is illustrative of the difficulty of building a common foreign and

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International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Russia and Eurasia security policy among 28 countries. Youngs emphasizes that, over time, the EU has built its external policies based on a cooperative model developed internally, in contrast to the traditional state-centric, realist approach of international security, narrowly defined by the use of hard power to address geopolitical issues. In this European model, norms and gover- nance matter more than power. Robert Chaouad, The City University of New York, USA

Russia and Eurasia

A wary embrace: what the China–Russia relationship means for the world. By Bobo Lo. Melbourne: Penguin Random House Australia. 2017. 224pp. Pb.: £11.97. isbn 978 0 14378 600 9. Available as e-book. China and Russia’s deepening relationship has provoked a wide range of views on its signifi- cance, prospects and implications for the West. Bobo Lo’s concise and highly readable book offers a timely and thorough review of the issues and arguments. Until almost the end, its view is consistent and unequivocal: reports of the birth of the Sino-Russian alliance are greatly exaggerated. Lo acknowledges the case for ‘authoritarian entente’ based on shared resistance to a United States-led international order and its liberal values. He notes, too, the recent catalysts of this relationship, in particular the global financial crisis, strong personal chemistry between Xi and Putin and Russia’s post-Crimea crisis relationship with the West. Despite this, Lo argues that the Sino-Russian relationship remains essentially unchanged from the ‘axis of convenience’, in the phrase he coined a decade ago. It is emphatically not the official ambitious, if unwieldy-sounding, ‘comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination’. Lo begins with the thin history of the two countries’ ties: elite contacts grew only in the nineteenth century, leaving little legacy of cultural understanding or shared historical memory. Though history is not destiny, the low baseline puts into perspective the ‘best ever’ relationship the two countries enjoy today. More significant are the constraints imposed by deeper structural forces and trends. Lo invites us to look beneath the surface of effusive rhetoric and signing ceremonies at national interests, relative power and habits of strategic thought which drive the longer-term policies of a rising China and a resurgent-but-declining Russia. The picture is, inevitably, mixed: forces of convergence and divergence jostle. Driven by resentment of the West and alarmed by the ‘colour revolutions’, Russia seeks to reassert itself as an independent Great Power and cultivate relations with a wide array of non-western and non-liberal powers. Yet for all the rhetoric—and growing activity—of its ‘turn to Asia’, Russia struggles to overcome perceptions that (as Lo has eloquently set out elsewhere) it still adopts an essentially ‘instrumental’ approach. Engaging with Asia is less an end in itself and more a means to demonstrate to the West that Russia has other options. Its foreign policy, even identity, remain primarily European—even at its most hostile, Russia argues that it is the EU, not Russia, that has turned away from classical ‘European’ culture and values. The picture is further complicated by China’s and Russia’s contrasting attitudes towards the United States—though both are wary of American power. But while Russia’s relation- ship is thin, transactional and now engulfed by the investigation of the 2016 presidential election, China continues to set great store by its relationship with the US. This is not only because China aspires to shape ‘a new pattern of great-power relations’ as a future equal, but because its modernization drive makes it ‘highly receptive to western technology and know-how’ (p. 101). 451

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The Sino-Russian economic relationship illustrates this mix of contrasting forces most clearly. While it has developed rapidly, it is also highly asymmetric in two senses. First, it is far more significant for Russia (China is its second-largest trade partner) than for China (Russia is only its 16th-largest partner). Second, China has many more options than Russia does. In energy, for example, China has abundant sourcing options, especially for liquefied natural gas (LNG), all of which compete with Russia’s new Power of Siberia pipeline. By contrast, Russia has few alternative customers for its major new fields. China’s firm negotia- tion of the historic May 2015 gas supply agreement reflected this basic imbalance. Further- more, economics can be a source of friction as well as a glue. The explosion of China’s trade and investment in central Asia has deepened its influence and caused quiet Russian anxiety—this influence is now extending still further into central and eastern Europe. Lo argues that, even at the dawn of its growing global role, China is already the de facto ‘senior partner’, an idea profoundly disconcerting to Russia. Lo is consistently sceptical of claims that the Sino-Russian relationship is, or will become, a significant force in global politics, still less that it represents a challenge to which the West must respond—by accommodating either or both countries. He repeatedly draws attention to the relationship's limits and weaknesses, and rejects the view that the two countries agree on the ‘big stuff ’ while disagreeing only on second-order issues. But this admirably clear thesis invites two questions. First, is the test of significance made too stringent? Lo implies that the ‘authoritarian alliance’ would have to threaten ‘the entire fabric of international norms, rules and institutions’ in order to matter (p. 98). But Russia and China need not aspire to anything quite as ambitious, or be aligned on every important matter, for their closer ties to become a major and, for the West, complicating factor. Second, the arguments can seem a little too categorical and the evidence marshalled supports, more than tests, the book’s scepticism. Policy-makers, who must deal in uncertainties and surprises, might be forgiven for remaining unconvinced by assurances that national interests, structural forces and long-term trends mean there is little for them to be concerned about. Lo does inject greater caution and contingency in the last chapter when exploring the implications of ‘the age of Trump’. Where he earlier discounted western influence on Sino- Russian relations, he now sketches several potential paths depending on the course of US foreign policy. China might commit more fully to its Russian ties, Russia might become a ‘global swing power’, or the two might even fall into what is now called a ‘Thucydides trap’. Lo concludes that it is ‘unclear whether Beijing and Moscow can … develop a qualitatively different relationship—one that goes beyond pragmatic self-interest to a more deep-rooted and long-lasting convergence’ (pp. 138–9). As with most diplomacy, here too the logic of trends is wrapped in contingency. Even if unlikely, a strong Sino-Russian relationship remains a possibility and one that the United States would be wise not to hasten inadver- tently. Nigel Gould-Davies, Mahidol University International College, Thailand

The house of government: a saga of the Russian Revolution. By Yuri Slezkine. Princeton, NJ and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 2017. 1128pp. £20.36. isbn 978 0 69117 694 9. Available as e-book. With this truly monumental volume, Berkeley historian Yuri Slezkine has masterfully succeeded in offering a comprehensive analysis of the Stalinist political, psychological and intellectual cosmos in the 1930s. We have here a splendid illustration of what we now call total history—superbly written, with a keen eye for the relationship between literature 452

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Russia and Eurasia and politics, and almost overwhelmingly detailed ( justifiably so, since in this case the devil really is in the detail). The house of government, the biggest apartment building in Europe and probably in the world, was designed by architect Boris Iofan and his team following politburo orders. It was in fact a state within the state—with its communication networks, mores, memories, administration, cultural exploits, favourite books, films and songs, and even a theatre. The house was immortalized in literature by writer Yuri Trifonov, son of a prominent Bolshevik who lived with his family in an apartment of this gigantic compound. It was surreally self-centred and self-enclosed. Between 1932 and 1941, it served as a protec- tive shelter for members of the Soviet elite and their families. As Slezkine luminously shows, the egalitarian ethos of the Bolshevik ideology, in fact a hypocritical pretence, was not at all replicated in the luxurious (by wider and Soviet standards) living standards of the higher- and lower-level magnates. They enjoyed privacy (limited, to be sure) in a country where communal apartments were the rule. Slezkine starts his absorbing story—he is right to call it a saga—with the pre-revolu- tionary times and the birth of a secular religion, Leninism, claiming to offer ultimate answers to moral dilemmas. This was indeed a chiliastic vision and Slezkine convincingly explores it a as a form of secular millenarianism. Fanaticism merged with apocalyptical visions in this revolutionary gospel. Some of the tenants of the house were old Bolshe- viks with formidable credentials in the anti-tsarist struggle. Some, like Aleksandr Arosev, Valerian Osinsky and Aleksandr Voronsky, had known Lenin personally and wished to provide enduring testimonies of such a privileged experience. Yet for Lenin’s victorious, apostolic successor, Joseph Stalin, this was a dangerous, and therefore unwelcome, under- taking. After all, many of these veterans had participated in the fierce, factious struggles of the 1920s as real or alleged supporters of Stalin’s rivals. Others, like Osip Piatnitsky, who were arrested and executed during the Great Terror, were exponents of an internationalism which Stalin and his clique regarded as foolishly outdated. Loyalty to Stalin meant complete renunciation of one’s personal beliefs, unless those were imbued with masochistic adoration for the omniscient despot. Slezkine offers a persuasive interpretation of Nikolai Bukharin’s downfall and the causes of his confusion regarding Stalin’s merciless attitude towards him. His old friend Koba (Stalin) had vanished—there was no reason for sentimental concessions when the issue was the very survival of the Soviet state. For Stalin, this meant the survival and strengthening of his unlimited power. In his mind, the classless society was achievable only through the sharpening of class struggle. The house was a cobweb of political intrigues, but also a place for forging deep friend- ships and attachments. Over six hundred apartments, thousands of individuals (infants, teenagers, mature and old people, husbands, wives, ex-wives, nannies) inhabited this secluded space. From furniture to medical care and food, it was all state-provided or state- controlled. Personal tastes were not encouraged. Intimacy was suspect and seditious. The atmosphere in the house reflected the growing regimentation of Soviet society during the years of high Stalinism. Social life was of course always watched, the tenants avoided family visits, except for official holidays. There were some genuine friendships, but one’s loyalty belonged to the party, that mystical entity created by Lenin and fostered by Stalin. These residents were the Soviet aristocracy (or the red bourgeoisie) and they knew it. Slezkine chooses a number of main characters and follows them through all the tribu- lations of the 1930s, from the enthusiasm about the first five-year plan and the Congress of Victors in January–February 1934, through the shock of Sergey Kirov’s assassination on 1 December 1934, to the Great Terror with its hundreds of thousands of victims and the imposition of universal terror. One of the most fascinating characters was the Polish- 453

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Jewish-Russian revolutionary Karl Radek. A cynical survivor, he served Stalin to indict Bukharin, yet he was to be killed himself in the Gulag. No less interesting a person was Mikhail Koltsov, Stalin’s favourite journalist, who plays a crucial role in Slezkine’s novel- like narrative. It was Koltsov who initiated the literary and political glorification of Nikolai Ostrovsky and his iconic proletarian novel How the steel was tempered. Stalin admired Koltsov’s feverish style and, for some time, he seemed to trust him. As Pravda’s correspondent to the Spanish Civil War, he wrote immensely popular reportages. Ernest Hemingway turned him into a character (Kotov) in his classic novel For whom the bell tolls. Then he returned to Moscow and to the house of government, became a member of the Supreme Soviet, was arrested in late 1938 and shot in 1941. His former companion, German communist journalist Maria Osten, shared Koltsov’s tragic fate. Political delusions, ideological passions and utopian expectations were the foundation for the abysmal debacle that engulfed the once proud revolutionaries and their offspring during one of the bloodiest periods in the history of a most terrifyingly cruel century. Vladimir Tismaneanu, University of Maryland, USA

Frustrated democracy in post-Soviet Azerbaijan. By Audrey L. Altstadt. New York: Columbia University Press. 2017. 304pp. £49.95. isbn 978 0 23170 456 4. Available as e-book. If the former Soviet countries have one thing in common, it is their dislike for the moniker ‘former Soviet’. Yet in many ways their internal politics is still shaped by their Soviet legacy—a theme prominent in this book on Azerbaijan’s political development since 1991 by a long-time observer of and one of the foremost experts on the country, Audrey L. Altstadt. For the most part, this is a story of how little the country has moved forward. The author provides ample evidence—for those who are still unconvinced—that the country’s poor democracy and human rights record is the result of the government’s systematic crack- down over the past two decades, and not the mistakes of a newly independent state. On the one hand, Altstadt reminds readers that much of this is due to the ‘hard wiring’ put in place during the Soviet era and not yet overcome. While generational change has taken place at the very top, the president’s closest advisers are of his father’s generation and have remained in their posts for the best part of two decades. It is their conception of politics and political experience that has shaped the country’s crackdown on dissent. This is compounded by the fact that the populace remains ‘for the most part, as politically naïve as they were under the communist rule’ (p. 177). Azerbaijan has still not had a chance to have free public debate on the substance of democracy, the source of sovereignty and the role of religion. The lack of progress on resolving the conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh is just one of the consequences of this. On the other hand, Altstadt argues, Azerbaijan’s political future is not predetermined by its Soviet past or its geopolitics. While clearly sympathetic to the Popular Front and its veterans—whom she calls the country’s ‘best and brightest’ (p. 49)—she also emphasizes how the human factor has contributed to the current weakness of Azerbaijani opposition: namely their lack of political acumen, infighting and failure to focus on issues instead of personalities. The selection of Rustam Ibragimbekov, a Russia-based film director, as the opposition candidate for the presidential elections in 2013 is symptomatic of both the closed nature of Azerbaijan’s political arena and the shortcomings of the opposition. The book would benefit from a stronger focus on the economy and its link to polit- ical development. The author concedes that economic conditions are more important for 454

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Middle East and North Africa regime survival than political freedom. Still, she mostly looks at the economy through the lens of hydrocarbons-related corruption and the regime’s failure to share the profits from energy exports with the wider population through social policies. The wider picture of lost entrepreneurship potential and frustrated human capital is not taken into account. The story of how far the country has moved from its Soviet past concerns mostly its elite. Drawing on the work of several investigative journalists and echoing the research done on central Asia by Alexander Cooley and John Heathershaw in Dictators without borders: power and money in central Asia (London and New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017; reviewed in International Affairs 93: 5, September 2017), Altstadt describes an elite increas- ingly more adept at using international financial networks to conceal their ill-gotten wealth. As the murder of Daphne Caruana Galizia, the Maltese journalist who led a Panama Papers investigation linked to Azerbaijan, reminds us, these networks have an impact on EU and US politics. Finally, Altstadt’s book also offers a detailed analysis of the Azerbaijani regime’s use of lobbying and criticizes the EU and US officials’ ‘willing blinders’ (p. 240)vis-à-vis Azerbai- jan’s worsening democratic, governance and human rights record. The book persuasively argues that such an approach does not help the Azerbaijani people or their government, and neither will it serve the EU and the US in the long term. By closing down all space for opposition, the regime risks pushing the discontent to violence—which the government may not be able to handle on its own, and inviting external assistance could threaten the country’s independence. In addition, by letting the regime’s crackdown pass without conse- quences, the EU and the US are depriving themselves of soft power not only in Azerbaijan, but also in the wider region. This is sound advice; it remains to be seen if it will be heeded. Ľubica Polláková, Chatham House, UK

Middle East and North Africa The rise of the Israeli right: from Odessa to Hebron. By Colin Shindler. New York: Cambridge University Press. 2015. 318pp. £62.00. isbn 978 0 52119 378 8. Available as e-book. Israel under siege: the politics of insecurity and the rise of the Israeli neo-revisionist right. By Raffaella A. Del Sarto. Washington DC: Georgetown University Press. 2017. 296pp. £50.50. isbn 978 1 62616 406 2 . Available as e-book. It has long been a mystery to many outside observers why in opinion polls a majority of Israelis support a two-state solution yet continue to vote directly, or indirectly, for right-wing political parties set against peace between Israel and the Palestinians. Due to its electoral code, the Israeli political system is doomed to be governed by coalitions, originally with the historic Labour party, and now the Likud party, at the centre of negotiating deals with smaller (and increasingly extreme) parties that dominate subsequent political agendas. In principle, and as declared by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in his oft-cited Bar-Ilan speech of 2009, the Likud party does (or did then) support a negotiated two-state solution. The problem is that Likud’s coalition partners of the secular and religious, New and Far, right do not. These books go a long way towards explaining why this is so. Colin Shindler analyses the historical trajectory of the people and ideas which gave rise to the ascendancy of the modern right wing in Israel. Since its publication in 2015, the book is already seen as a refer- ence in the field, even though its consideration of the modern era is limited to an overview of how the Likud party—under Menachem Begin from 1977 and Netanyahu since 2009— 455

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews has come to dominate the centre ground of Israeli politics at the expense of the Israeli Labour party and the political left. The book’s main achievement is to reposition the figure of Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky, claimed as the ‘father of the right’, as a more conflicted and progessively nationalist Zionist figure than a number of his successors (and critics) have asserted him to be. In Shindler’s early chapters, the young Jabotinsky comes across as a sympathetic character, a Russian and Italian—rather than Yiddish—speaking liberal intellectual, passionately engaged in the ferment of debates that transformed nineteenth-century European liberalism into the less palatable, and often violent, nationalisms of the twentieth century. His own ‘conver- sion’ to Zionism comes tinged with the regret that the originator of modern Zionism, Theodor Herzl, died almost as soon as Jabotinsky had discovered him. Jabotinsky himself died in 1940, ahead of the foundation of modern Israel, but in time for the right-wing revisionist Zionist ideology and movement he created and led to fragment—dispersing into the ‘Maximalist’ tendencies of the movement’s youth section and the violence of the Irgun and Stern Gang opposed to British Mandate rule in Palestine. Raffaella A. Del Sarto’s book on the neo-revisionist right of Israel focuses more closely on why and how the Israeli public has become so tied to voting for Likud and its allies, leaving behind the optimism of Israel’s early years and the risk-taking of the 1990s Oslo peace- making era. Del Sarto approaches her subject-matter through the prism of a foreign policy consensus which—hardened with victimhood dating back to the Shoah (Holocaust)—is based on a fear of terrorism and of a hostile regional environment, above all in the form of Iran, and the shared belief that there is no partner for peace on the Palestinian side. The net effect has been to favour a domestic discourse, or hegemony, based on security above all, which has effectively replaced any ideological debate about what kind of state Israel could and should be. The story is a gloomy one, as Del Sarto concludes: ‘without the occur- rence of an internal or external shock to the system, Israel’s new hegemony will be very difficult to reverse’ (p. 226). The centrality of security, fear and victimhood also creates a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy: the more Israel is criticized internationally, the more this reinforces public belief in the veracity of Israel’s self-image as beleaguered, alone and misunderstood. The answer is more self-reliance and heightened security—both reduc- tionist themes astutely instrumentalized by Netanyahu and his coalition colleagues to paste over the all-too-frequent political cracks among them. Del Sarto explores, in more depth than Shindler, the social and demographic changes in Israel over the past 25 years and the manner in which these have reinforced the neo-revisionist worldview and the hard-line political parties—like Avigdor Lieberman’s Yisrael Beitenu— that were born from new waves of inward migration from the former Soviet Union. Del Sarto registers some dissent to these attitudes from both the senior military establishment, for example over the conduct of the 2014 war against Gaza, and in the cultural sphere, where, since Del Sarto’s book was published, the Israeli film industry has put up a fight against the Likud Minister of Culture Miri Regev’s threat of censoring ‘anti-Israeli’ productions. However, the majority of religious and ethnic minority opinion—the Sephardic and recent migrant Jewry, not the 20 per cent of Israel’s population of Palestinian origin—remains on the side of the prevailing consensus. The majority’s support of the two-state solution can be explained by a choice between lesser evils: despite popular disillusionment with the left’s insistence on a negotiated peace agreement, the consequences of drifting towards a de facto one-state outcome that would threaten the Jewish majority within Israel itself is feared more. This is where political centrists, such as Yair Lapid’s Yesh Atid (There Is A Future) party, are attempting to step 456

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Middle East and North Africa into the breach if Netanyahu’s premiership becomes untenable due to corruption investi- gations in 2018. Lapid’s vision is one of partition with the buy-in of the Sunni Arab states which proposed a regional peace plan back in 2002, but he is also uncompromising about the unity of Jerusalem and sees walls and robust security measures as solutions to keeping Israeli and Palestinian populations apart. Claire Spencer, Chatham House, UK

Hero of the crossing: how Anwar Sadat and the 1973 War changed the world. By Thomas W. Lippman. Lincoln, NE: Potomac Books. 2016. 336pp. Index. £22.99. isbn 978 1 61234 702 8. Available as e-book. Its various names—the Yom Kippur War, the October War, the Ramadan War and the 1973 War—reveal that the Arab–Israeli war of October 1973 had and continues to have different meaning and symbolism for the belligerent sides. For the Israelis, the war repre- sents a national trauma that will be forever ingrained in the collective psyche, but for the Arabs, and particularly the Egyptians, the war represented a victory. The myth of total Israeli military superiority, largely reinforced by the Six-Day War, was smashed and the Arab forces managed to penetrate Israel’s territory, both in the north and south of the country. For the Egyptians, the war would also lead to both a return of the Sinai and a certain restoration of Arab military, political and national pride. Thomas W. Lippman very ably reveals the contours of President Anwar Sadat, a central character to this period of Middle Eastern statecraft, who took on the Arab world in his quest for peace with Israel and challenged the superpowers’ assumptions about policy-making, both domestically and on the world stage. Lippman asserts that by 1975 Sadat’s aims were becoming clear: restore Egyptian national pride, sign a peace deal with Israel and forge an alliance with the United States after the failure of former President Gamal Abdel Nasser’s Soviet alignment. With these three aims, Sadat was to carve himself a political niche surpassing regional boundaries, which would, in due course, release the extremist forces that killed him. Of particular interest is Lippman’s detailing of the Israeli intelligence failure in the buildup to the war. A flawed paradigm in both Jerusalem and Washington resulted in the assumption that the Arab world had no interest in a military confrontation with Israel, particularly after 1967—such thinking would be tantamount to political and military suicide. This miscalculation by both Israel and the US led directly to the Nixon administra- tion placing US forces around the globe on nuclear alert as it became clear that the Soviets might intervene on the side of their Arab clients, thereby preventing another trouncing of Soviet military hardware and doctrine. Another entry worthy of mention is the author’s depiction of UN Security Council Resolution 242. Lippman correctly points out that the omission of the definite article in the text of the resolution has allowed the Israelis and their patrons to maintain that they are not required to withdraw from the territories, or, for that matter, all territories acquired by Israel in June 1967. The Arab side, along with its patrons, has focused on the stipulation in Resolution 242 that the acquisition of territory by war is inadmissible. With a land for peace deal seemingly the only game in town for the Palestinians and Israelis, Resolution 242 will continue to divide, rather than unify. Lippman points out that former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger called the resolution an example of constructive ambiguity. That may be so, but the ambiguity has far exceeded the constructiveness. Finally, a leitmotif running through the work is the feeling of inevitability that Sadat’s actions in his quest for peace with Israel would be his downfall. Indeed, the fact that he 457

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews signed a separate deal with Israel—thereby rejecting the chance to forge a regional, compre- hensive deal and failing to entrench a Palestinian treaty with Israel through the Camp David Agreements—sealed his fate. His visit to Jerusalem was palpable proof for Islamists, if one were needed, that Sadat had betrayed his country and his religion. Lippman reveals that, at the end of his life, Sadat regretted the benevolence he had afforded the Muslim Brother- hood. Indeed, the rise of Islamism after Sadat’s death is a sad and somewhat unfair legacy for a man who gave his all for a new era. This is a well-written and thoroughly researched book and is suitable for all levels of interest and understanding. I have no doubt that it will become a core text for scholars of the Middle East. Howard A. Patten

Sub-Saharan Africa

Pili. Directed by Leanne Welham. Produced by Sophie Harman. London: British Council Film. 2017. 83mins. Sub-Saharan Africa is one of the regions most affected by the AIDS/HIV pandemic in the world. Nearly 70 per cent of people living with AIDS/HIV globally are local to sub-Saharan Africa, with two-thirds of new infections occurring in the region despite increasing efforts around prevention and treatment. Women are disproportionally affected by AIDS/HIV, yet the risk factors and mechanisms of infection in relation to gender inequality are poorly understood. The 2017 film Pili, directed by Leanne Welham and produced by Sophie Harman, provides profound insight into the everyday cultural, social, economic and polit- ical effects that further influence the gender disparity of AIDS/HIV. Pili visualizes the physical and emotional toll of living with AIDS/HIV while being constrained by the socio-political and socio-economic structures that define everyday life. Shot on location in the Pwani region of Tanzania, the film’s narrative is based on insights derived from 85 interviews with local women. The audience follows central protagonist Pili (Bello Rashid) as she navigates difficult circumstances over four days. When Pili is given the opportunity to rent a market stall—a highly prized alternative to her labour in the field for less than US$1 a day—she struggles to come up with the deposit while trying to keep her HIV status secret from her community. Pressured by kiosk owner Mahera (Nkwabi Elias Ng'angasamala) to come up with the money or risk losing the rare chance to run a market stall, Pili must undertake desperate measures to secure her tenancy. As time passes, Pili faces an increasingly stark choice between her health and the future financial security of her family. From the opening credits score of insects and nature, tension is built incre- mentally throughout the film, which helps constantly remind the audience of their anxiety about Pili’s situation and isolation. Gender is a significant theme inPili , and explicitly intersects with structures of inequality arising from uneven development. Pili herself is a farm labourer, and like many women in her community in Miono, she is a single parent. She is responsible for earning an income, maintaining her household and caregiving—leaving few opportunities for education in order to transition to a better life. To finance her deposit for the market stall, Pili approaches the Village Community Bank (VICOBA) which is run by a board of women from Miono. Here we see the intersection of gender inequality and development: micro-lending insti- tutions such as the VICOBA reinscribe a monetary set of relationships that commodify pre-existing social relations and can reinforce poverty by subsidizing individuals through 458

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Sub-Saharan Africa accrued debt. VICOBAs often rely on peer pressure and social constructions of shame to ensure debt repayment, which is brilliantly visualized in the film through the ongoing debates between VICOBA members as to whether Pili should be able to apply for a loan. The absence of men in the Miono VICOBA signifies, again, the individual becoming tied to a global economy of debt: microfinance institutions are predominantly founded by and for women precisely because the international organizations that fund them rely on existing social customs to enforce payments on the larger group debt. Yet husbands can use their position to compel their wives to take on a VICOBA loan, which further reinforces the power imbalance of the domestic household. Problems of development and gender inequality in relation to AIDS/HIV are also visual- ized in key scenes where Pili visits care and treatment clinics (CTCs). Many CTCs are under- staffed, lack essential equipment and at times are unable to provide medicine to patients. These CTCs and other health services rely heavily on external funding due to the wide- spread dismantling of government services in the 1980s following structural adjustment policies. These policies have resulted in inadequate care and insufficienteducation ­ about the spread of AIDS/HIV, which in turn reinforces the stigma surrounding the disease—another significant inhibitor to seeking help. As Pili says, ‘I’ve been hiding for a long time. I didn’t want anyone to know’. When the pharmacy price for anti-retrovirals increases, Pili sources her medication from a CTC in another village to avoid being seen at her local AIDS/HIV clinic by members of her community. When pressed by her friend Cecilia (Sesilia Florian Kilimila) about the relief she would feel if she were open about her status, Pili remains silent. Having control over how one is seen by others in the community is a risk factor that is often overlooked in examinations of the spread of AIDS/HIV. Pili is an aesthetically powerful film that offers an important contribution to the study of visual politics, global health and international relations. The film makes a path-breaking academic contribution to debates on AIDS/HIV prevention and treatment: it visually demonstrates the role of structures of gender inequality and development in exacerbating the AIDS/HIV pandemic, furthering our understandings of the possible political responses to alleviating such crises. Constance Duncombe, University of Queensland, Australia

Dangerous diplomacy: bureaucracy, power politics, and the role of the UN Secre- tariat in Rwanda. By Herman T. Salton. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2017. 320pp. £37.88. isbn 978 0 19873 359 1. Available as e-book. An extremely important and valuable work, Dangerous diplomacy contributes substantially and impressively to understanding the pathologies of politics and power at the United Nations, specifically with regard to the organization’s actions before and during the Rwandan genocide. The UN failed to prevent and stop the genocide in 1994 and ultimately contributed to its scale and scope. Herman T. Salton’s book is a work of great ethical and intellectual depth, as well as of interpersonal and organizational insight, which is genuinely exceptional, original and of superlative quality—it is a major contribution to literature on the UN. Salton honestly, analytically and rigorously exposes the inner workings of UN agencies responsible for envisioning and implementing UN policies vis-à-vis Rwanda, specifically in relation to peacekeeping, peacebuilding, and the purported prevention of genocide, crimes against humanity and other egregious human rights violations. At each of these tasks the UN failed, catastrophically, and with a staggering combination of incompetence, petti- ness and cowardice—while showing a profound lack of moral urgency and chronic ethical 459

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews blindness. The book reveals intra-agency, inter-agency and interpersonal dysfunction within the UN, including extensive information not previously available due to its private and confidential nature. Much of this dysfunction stemmed from a lack of communica- tion and coordination, as well as from turf wars between the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) and the Department of Political Affairs (DPA) within the UN Secre- tariat. Conflicts between their leadership, staff and closely related—often overlapping, but somewhat artificially and arbitrarily separated—missions are a central analytical concern of the book; the DPKO was ostensibly responsible for operational and technical aspects of peacekeeping and the DPA for political aspects of peacebuilding and larger questions of policy. Salton argues that much of the UN’s failure in Rwanda stems from the conceptual confusion about the scope and mission of these two UN agencies—acting more in a spirit of conflict and competition than coordination and cooperation. Along with this rigorous organizational and bureaucratic critique, Salton also offers illuminating and astute analyses of the individuals responsible for the UN’s Rwanda policies and practices between 1993 and 1995, and for their failures of leadership, ethics and policy execution. Former UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali was greatly compromised by his close ties to the Hutu supremacist regime ruling Rwanda prior to the genocide and as Egypt’s Deputy Prime Minister—just prior to becoming UN Secre- tary-General—facilitated arms shipments to that regime, which were then used during the genocide. In addition to Boutros-Ghali, Salton also discusses Kofi Annan, the Under- Secretary-General for Peacekeeping and later UN Secretary-General; Iqbal Riza, Assistant Secretary-General for Peacekeeping; Romeo Dallaire, United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) Force Commander; Jacques-Roger Booh-Booh, Special Repre- sentative of the Secretary-General in Rwanda; and Marrack Goulding, Under-Secretary- General for Peacekeeping and later Under-Secretary-General for Political Affairs. Salton’s analysis reveals how Boutros-Ghali and Booh-Booh were particularly responsible for many of the UN’s greatest failures in Rwanda, but Annan, Riza and Goulding contributed to them significantly as well. Only Dallaire, though imperfect, appears to have been focused on saving lives and protecting human rights. He acted with a moral integrity that was utterly lacking across the UN and the overwhelming majority of its leadership. Although Dangerous diplomacy’s preface states that its purpose is not to allocate blame for the UN’s role in the genocide, Salton does an excellent job of doing so. Readers will be left wondering how justice could and should be served for those UN officials who failed to act decisively in 1994, when they had the possibility, power and resources to prevent the Rwandan genocide—or at the very least reduce the loss of life. Salton does not analyse their legal responsibilities and obligations or how they may have violated them. But the evidence overwhelmingly reveals a systemic and egregious moral and human culpability which may indeed be a legal one as well. None of them faced international human rights accountability at the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, but many were complicit in these crimes. Ironically, and conveniently, the UN evades international legal responsibility by granting itself immunity from the very international laws it is responsible for creating and enforcing. The tone throughout the book is measured rather than emotive. This is a strength, as the book errs on the side of caution and in so doing renders its critique of the UN all the more searing and irreproachable. The writing is clear and compelling, but inevitably dense and detailed given the topic’s complexity. Both scholars and students of human rights and International Relations, however, have much to gain from reading this work. Dangerous diplomacy ought to be studied and appreciated, as well as inform both politics and policy 460

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Sub-Saharan Africa in national governments, at the United Nations, and among diplomats, civil servants and development and humanitarian aid practitioners. Salton’s relentlessly fair-minded writing makes this book’s indictment of the United Nations all the more devastating and complete. Noam Schimmel, McGill University, Canada and University of Oxford, UK

Africa in 21st century US and EU agendas: a comparative analysis. By Lola Raich. New York: Peter Lang. 2016. 250pp. £41.58. isbn 978 3 63167 247 1. Available as e-book. The burgeoning attention to African International Relations (IR) can be seen as a part of the overdue interest in global IR, while also serving to balance IR’s current obsession with Asia and especially with east Asia. Within this trend, Lola Raich’s monograph takes a novel approach, as it does not focus on, for example, African agency in sustainable development or on South–South cooperation. Rather, it discusses northern policies on African security or, more candidly, trans-Atlantic security via Africa. This subject is made all the more salient by the supposed cross-Mediterranean human ‘invasion’ of the last number of years. Sadly, while its topic might not be traditional, Africa in 21st century US and EU agendas does not approach it in a comprehensive manner, as non-state actors, non-traditional security threats and private security are not extensively discussed: the volume remains very state- centric. The strength of Raich’s work lies in its comparative analysis of the European Union’s and the United States’ post-Cold War formal security responses to Africa. The latter founded the US Africa Command (AFRICOM) in 2007 and the former launched, at the Africa–EU Summit of the same year, the Joint Africa–EU Strategy (JAES). The JAES later also largely defined the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) for which it provided the funding. Strangely, in discussing the US and EU approaches to African security, the book does not recognize the relative compatibility of EU and African Union (AU) approaches, in contrast to the more unilateral hard power of the United States. This is despite Raich’s observation that the continent has undergone a paradigm shift towards human security (pp. 28–40) based on soft power (pp. 31–40). Though the US’ African Growth and Oppor- tunity Act (AGOA) and the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) were relatively successful, it is clear that US efforts lack the continuous and informed civil society interaction which for the EU is secured by, among others, the European Centre for Devel- opment Policy Management (ECDPM). In highlighting the importance of civil society, Raich does, however, fail to recognize the growing influence of Africa’s diasporas on the foreign policies of both the US and the EU. It is also worth noting that Africa in 21st century US and EU agendas overlooks gender. Moreover, the nationalist and protectionist directions in which both the United Kingdom and the United States are heading—due to the premiership of Theresa May and the Donald Trump presidency, respectively—have since undermined both countries’ inter- ests in Africa. Simultaneous with this withdrawal of the US and the UK, new actors are increasing their influence in the African continent. Raich highlights the involvement of a number of these, including China (pp. 156–7) and India, but could pay more attention to South Korea and Turkey, as well as to non-state actors such as the Sovereign Wealth and Pension Funds, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and (especially Islamic) faith-based organizations. Raich also argues that ‘environmental degradation and climate change are the next major challengers for SSA [Sub-Saharan Africa]’ (p. 48). As Africa appears to be significantly more affected by global warming than most continents, many of the already existing concerns 461

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews will exponentially grow; the pressure on the water–energy–food nexus will especially intensify. This will significantly influence the nature of the US’s and the EU’s approaches to Africa and will lead to novel foreign policy challenges as well as to pressures from new actors and coalitions. Although Raich’s book does not provide the reader with a comprehensive analysis, it does begin to outline US and EU agendas with regard to the African continent. It would have benefited from a comprehensive index—though the book does offer seven pages of acronyms as well as 50 pages of references, allowing readers to delve deeper into the discus- sion that Raich started on the manner in which the EU and the US are approaching Africa. Timothy M. Shaw, University of Massachusetts Boston, USA

South Asia*

The new Pakistani middle class. By Ammara Maqsood. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2017. 208pp. Index. £34.95. isbn 978 0 67428 003 8. Available as e-book. Will the ‘real’ Pakistan please stand up? The question haunts a country still unsure of its identity. Yet few could have anticipated the weight it has come to assume in Pakistan’s tireless efforts to shed its international image as a centre of violent extremism and retro- grade expressions of Islam. This absorbing study by Ammara Maqsood enters the debate through an analysis of middle-class constructions of modernity within the urban milieu of Pakistan’s second largest city, Lahore. It suggests that competing ideas of the ‘other’ Pakistan—often intended to point with favour at the ‘real’ Pakistan, represent a bitter struggle between middle-class groups each intent on winning social recognition at home and abroad, as representatives of a ‘modern’ Pakistan. The mission of explaining this Pakistan to the outside world has largely been the preserve of those Maqsood describes as the ‘established middle class’, whose ­privileged access to global media helped consolidate its claim to preside over a modern Pakistan committed to the promotion of cultural diversity and religious harmony. But these efforts, Maqsood argues, were designed as much to win legitimacy for a self-professed progressive elite as the exclusive standard-bearers of Pakistan’s modernity, as to influence the international image of Pakistan in ways that corresponded to their vision of modernity. For doing so could determine the domestic political fortunes of this class, which now faces a potent challenge from a ‘new Pakistani middle-class’—whose competing conceptions of modernity threaten to displace the cultural and political dominance of old middl-class groups and redefine the contours of Pakistan’s class politics. Driving the aspirations of this new and ascendant middle class is a single-minded concern with Islamic piety, which the established middle class has long judged to be a sign of ‘backwardness’ that stems from the influence of Saudi-inspired Wahhabi Islam and that is contrary to a ‘modernist’ mentality. Yet, as Maqsood seeks to demonstrate, the practice of Islamic piety among Pakistan’s new middle class is consciously geared towards the time- honoured accoutrements of modernity: education, the exercise of personal autonomy, and new ideas and modes of consumption reflecting global trends. Here religious piety has been transformed from an instrument of ethical self-cultivation to a socio-political discourse that contests the normative claims of the established middle class, which has used its ties to illustrious families, its relatively high levels of education and its familiarity with a world

* See also Urs Matthias Zachmann, ed., Asia after Versailles, pp. 429–31; and Hardeep Singh Puri, Perilous interven- tions, pp. 434–5. 462

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 South Asia outside Pakistan to set standards of modernity. Due to this the old middle class has been able to accumulate social capital and justify its hold on power. Maqsood finds that these standards no longer apply for Pakistan’s new middle class, which has crafted new foundations for modernity. Their status rests on the cultivation of Islamic ethics rather than pride in noble genealogies, on critical skills to understand ‘true’ (often generic) Islam rather than the protection of ‘regressive’ cultural practices, and on the fostering of links with a global community of Muslims rather than on slavishly imitating the West. However, while the opposing modernist rhetorics of the established and new middle classes appear to set them radically apart, both are found to share a common anxiety triggered by an imagined audience, namely, the outside world—whose representations of Pakistan as ‘backward’ they each seek to allay by depicting Pakistan in its own image of ­modernity. Many of Maqsood’s insights are rich and draw skilfully from her ethnographic research. Her book adds to a growing corpus of work that explores the increasing appeal of religious piety among the Muslim middle classes in contemporary societies. Unlike other compa- rable studies, however, Maqsood is careful to avoid the hazards of treating expressions of Islamic piety as conclusive evidence of personal agency, as Saba Mahmood does in Politics of piety: the Islamic revival and the feminist subject (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004), or reading the impulse to rationalize religious practice encouraged by such piety as heralding the onset of secularization, as in Humeira Iqtidar’s Secularizing Islamists?: Jama’at- e-Islami and Jama’at-ud-Da’wa in urban Pakistan (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2011). Both can thwart an understanding of Pakistan, where piety has historically served to entrench patriarchy and where, as Maqsood found, the dialectical relationship between faith and rationality can be gravely compromised by the tendency to ‘overstand’ Islam and set it beyond the reach of human rationality. Nevertheless, questions remain about Maqsood’s heavy emphasis on piety as the defining feature of Pakistan’s upwardly mobile urban classes. Not the least of these is the risk of ignoring challenges to piety that have emerged within these circles, where the use of social media, for example, is rapidly transforming perceptions of modernity, especially among women. The case of the social media star Qandeel Baloch (labelled ‘Pakistan’s Kim Kardashian’) who was killed in 2016 for defying new middle-class strictures on sexual conduct, as well as the campaign by the transgender community to reset the parameters of new middle-class morality, suggest that it may not be long before sexual agency competes with piety as an index of Pakistan’s new middle-class modernity. Farzana Shaikh, Chatham House, UK

My enemy’s enemy: India in Afghanistan from the Soviet invasion to the US withdrawal. By Avinash Paliwal. London: Hurst. 2017. 288pp. Index. £28.00. isbn 978 1 84904 834 7. Avinash Paliwal traces India’s changing policies towards Afghanistan by highlighting the oscillation between proactive engagement to exploit opportunities and restraint. My enemy’s enemy is a retort to accusations, mostly emanating from Islamabad, that India uses Afghani- stan simply as a Machiavellian device against Pakistan. Instead, Paliwal argues that India has been successful in maintaining a strategic balance and avoiding ‘rash and immature’ decisions (p. 13), and that Indian policy has been guided by the consistent desire to maintain a balance of power in the region—although critics might perceive inconsistencies as indecision and see a regional balance of power which is tilted permanently in India’s favour. 463

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews

The book provides a comprehensive overview of Indian policy-making and of the country’s strategy towards Afghanistan. It makes extensive use of previously unpublished official documents and correspondence, as well as of interviews with diplomats and politi- cians. The author, formerly a journalist, is clearly very strong in the arts of interroga- tion and the results are fascinating. What emerges is a contested and much-debated policy agenda, shaped by momentous events in Afghanistan: from the Soviet invasion of 1979 and the Afghan civil war and Taliban rule (including the traumatic hijacking of Indian airliner IC 814), to the American intervention of the 2000s. This chronology is reflected in the structure of the book, which looks at three broad periods in India’s attitude towards Afghanistan, namely neutrality (the Soviet period), containment (the civil war and Taliban rule) and engagement (after 2001). Many have commented on India’s willingness to engage with certain Afghan leaders and to invest in the country, without explaining its motives. Paliwal shows that there are two broad categories of policy-makers and influencers in India. The ‘partisans’ favour supporting those factions in Afghanistan that are most likely to secure power and act in India’s interests. The underlying driver for this approach is the confrontation with Pakistan and Islamabad’s support for the Taliban. Some advocates of this school of thought are more hawkish. Paliwal labels the second group the ‘conciliators’. As their name suggests, this group is eager to use economic power to develop Afghanistan as a means to reduce conflict, and they express a willingness to talk to all Afghan groups, including the Taliban, in order to reduce conflict and improve stability. They would argue that simply ignoring Pakistan- backed factions is pointless, and that a comprehensive negotiation strategy has the best chance of success. Paliwal acknowledges that these are convenient distinctions and that, at times, the two approaches have been used in tandem. When looked at in the context of events in the region, it is not surprising that commentators have been critical of India’s policy towards Afghanistan in action. Moreover, Paliwal examines Indian policy through its driving forces: the attempt to create equilibrium between Afghanistan and Pakistan, to prevent Kabul becoming depen- dent on Islamabad; the international pressures, particularly from the United States, which strongly influence India’s policy-makers; and the domestic politics of Afghanistan, where India’s relations with Afghan leaders—such as former presidents Mohammad Najibullah and Hamid Karzai—have ebbed and flowed. The other driver of policy, not separated as a category by Paliwal, but evident throughout the volume, is India’s own domestic politics. National strategies often reflect the political economy of a state or its strategic culture and, perhaps without acknowledging it, the book can be read as a reflection of changes within India itself. Among the most striking aspects of this engaging volume is its description of the country’s fractious relationships with Pakistan and the US, and, in particular, the Indian view of western reconciliation efforts. Paliwal is at times too generous to India’s policy- makers—including heralding a ‘successful’ approach to reconciliation with the Taliban through engagement with China (p. 279) when the empirical results seem less positive. Despite this, My enemy’s enemy is a superbly researched and detailed analysis of India’s policy towards the Afghan conflicts and their international setting. It is likely to stand as a core text on India’s foreign policy and answers the conundrum of New Delhi’s approach to Afghanistan. Robert Johnson, University of Oxford, UK

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International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 East Asia and Pacific

East Asia and Pacific*

Middle Kingdom and Empire of the Rising Sun: Sino-Japanese relations, past and present. By June Teufel Dreyer. New York: Oxford University Press. 2016. 472pp. Index. £22.99. isbn 978 0 19537 566 4. Available as e-book. The old expression that familiarity breeds contempt never applied to two countries better than China and Japan. The neighbouring states have interacted with each other for nearly 2,000 years, and Japan has been greatly enriched by infusions of Chinese culture (think written Chinese characters, Buddhism and ceramics, to name only three), yet official relations have been contentious for centuries. The two countries have gone to war at least three times in modern history, and political dust-ups occur every time a prime minister visits the Yasukuni Shrine dedicated to Japanese war dead or a politician makes an ill-considered comment about Japan’s militarist past. In this marvellous history of bilateral relations and contemporary issues, Sinologist June Teufel Dreyer provides readers with rich context to aid both special- ists and casual observers in understanding one of the most significant regional ties. Dreyer masterfully illustrates how bilateral relations have been fraught with mutual misperception and petty conflict from the beginning. For much of pre-modern history, Japanese leadership chafed at Chinese condescension and efforts to confine the island nation within the Sino-centric tribute system. For their part, the Chinese saw the Japanese as disrespectful upstarts. The coming of western foreigners to Asia completely upset China’s domination of east Asia, and Japan more effectively integrated itself into the Westphalian state system and globalizing economy. Japan turned the tables as they joined the western game of carving out spheres of influence and later colonies, now viewing the struggling Chinese with condescension. During the Cold War, both countries felt the need for better relations and, together with Deng Xiaoping’s hunger for foreign investment and technology, this helped create a ‘golden age’ of normalized relations from 1972 to 1989 (p. 156). China’s rise to Great Power status, combined with loss of economic dynamism in Japan, subsequently brought old historical and territorial resentments back to the surface. Dreyer points out that a perceived natural synergy of the Japanese and Chinese econo- mies drove both countries to upgrade relations, even before normalization. Trade agree- ments required balanced trade, and both sides had to work around that, given the advantage Japanese exporters held. Normalization greatly aided trade and removed various restric- tions, but Japanese companies faced the same problems that western firms encountered inside China. Japanese business and government were concerned about aiding potential Chinese competitors, while Chinese officials worried about a chronic and growing trade deficit with Japan, along with China’s lack of competitiveness. Japanese industrialists saw China as merely part of their country’s trans-Pacific trade network. The post-Tiananmen advance of the Chinese economy, accompanied by Japanese stagnation, corrected the imbalance to a degree, as Japan grew more dependent on China as its largest export market (replacing the United States) and the trade surplus shrank. Shared concerns about military stances have shaped postwar security policies, as each country reacted to the perceived militarization of the other. The Korean War and China’s intervention therein was a major factor in the creation of the Japanese Self-Defence Forces (SDF) in the early 1950s, which in turn was a driver of Chinese military buildup. Japan’s cautious efforts nonetheless were constrained by its pacifist constitution, a security treaty

* See also Urs Matthias Zachmann, ed., Asia after Versailles, pp. 429–31; Matthew E. Kahn and Siqi Zheng, Blue skies over Beijing, pp. 445–6; and Bobo Lo, A wary embrace, pp. 451–2. 465

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews with America, and the Yoshida Doctrine, by which Tokyo yielded security leadership to America. After normalization, China only infrequently complained about Japanese milita- rization. However, the perceived Japanese assertiveness in the 1980s, the enhanced Tokyo– Washington cooperation from the 1990s onwards and the Japanese upgrading of the SDF provoked increasing howls about a perceived US–Japanese effort to contain China. Current Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s robust nationalism and desire to amend the constitu- tion now confirm Chinese worries. A chapter on the Taiwan issue is a neat summary of the history of the not-quite-nation island. Taiwan has been at the centre of Japan–China relations since 1949, just as it has been a key concern to Sino-American ties. Because the island was a Japanese dependency for so long, Beijing has been wary of perceived Japanese efforts to gain influence in Taipei. The popularity of Japanese culture in Taiwan underlines this perception. Since Sino-Japanese normalization, Taiwanese leaders such as Lee Teng-hui and Chen Shui-bian have used their Japanese connections to keep unofficial bilateral ties strong. While this book is nearly the definitive text on its subject, it is not without a few drawbacks. While the history is superbly written and deftly explained, it may take up space that could have been devoted to more discussion of recent issues (there are only four chapters on contemporary matters). A second edition thus could use a condensed history, while adding chapters on political relations, Sino-Japanese competition in south-east and south Asia, the importance of US ties for both, and bilateral socio-cultural ties. Middle Kingdom and Empire of the Rising Sun would also be strengthened by a chapter on diverging perceptions of past relations and war memory in both countries. Joel Campbell, Troy University, Global Campus, Japan–Korea

Education and society in post-Mao China. By Edward Vickers and Zeng Xiaodong. London and New York: Routledge. 2017. 408pp. Index. £105.00. isbn 978 0 41559 739 5. Available as e-book. Is China’s education system ‘successful’? Many think so, citing strong performance in inter- national rankings in maths and sciences, the numbers of university graduates, or simply the basic education enrolment and literacy rates which are strikingly high for a developing economy. Others, however, question whether education in a one-party state can deliver the sort of innovative thinking needed for China to become the global ‘leading economy’ in an Asian century. Edward Vickers and Zeng Xiaodong dig beneath the surface of these issues, describing and evaluating education in China since 1978. Success, of course, ‘depends on what one thinks education is ultimately for’ (p. 328) and, in attempting to respond to this question, the volume identifies the mainstream ideology on the purpose of education in China and the debates and tensions centred on policy-making. Detailed chapters put education and development in historical and comparative perspective, discuss the politics of education and take the reader through early childhood education, basic education, the curriculum, the teaching profession, assessment and senior high school, the market and competition, vocational and technical education and higher education and its international dimen- sions, which reflect the fact that ‘many urban Chinese have become profoundly trans- national in their outlook and interests’ (p. 309). In the process this volume covers issues relating to education for the so-called ‘ethnic minorities’ in China as well as the extent to which international practices have been adopted, including those inspired by ‘new public management’. 466

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The result of these discussions is a comprehensive account of education in China, based on a thorough reading of the secondary literature and primary sources in both English and Chinese. One of the book’s strengths is its historical depth and while it focuses on the post-Mao period this is put in the context of earlier developments—generally going back to the late Qing dynasty. Indeed, the legacies of education of the Mao era from 1949 to the late 1970s, in particular in basic education and literacy, are important foundations for the system’s subsequent development. Despite this, the volume’s core message is one of change rather than continuity in the education system. After December 1978, the Communist Party shifted its ‘central task’ from class struggle to economic development. For the authorities, education became increas- ingly about developing the ‘human capital’ required to contribute to economic growth and China’s comprehensive national power. In the process, the system has become more compet- itive and regimented, but not apolitical. Vickers and Zeng comment that ‘the ostensible depoliticisation of education and the sponsorship of international agencies camouflaged the introduction, or reintroduction, of a highly politicised ideology of pseudo-merito- cratic competition allied to strong-state nationalism’ (p. 101). They further demonstrate this throughout the volume by highlighting how political education remains a feature of the system at all levels. Furthermore, since the 1980s, disparities in education opportunities and outputs have grown, reflecting broader regional and urban–rural economic gaps and the power of money—or what is often called ‘the market’. China’s education system is therefore not as meritocratic as the official ‘legitimating ideology’ (p. 197) might claim, especially given the strong role of market forces and the self-reinforcing, state-bestowed status of educa- tional institutions. The political–economic imperatives of developmentalism in contempo- rary China therefore lead the authors to somewhat depressing conclusions, including that reform is unlikely. As reporters from the Chinese media outlet Caixin put it in 2013: ‘Those who have power use connections, those who have money go abroad to pursue their educa- tion, those with no money study hard for the Maths Olympiads; those with no money, power or energy go to the back of the queue. The psychology of parents becomes warped, and so does that of their children’ (p. 194). Tim Summers, The Chinese University of Hong Kong and Chatham House, Hong Kong

North America

Collusion: how Russia helped Trump win the White House. By Luke Harding. London: Guardian Faber Publishing. 2017. 352pp. Index. Pb.: £10.49. isbn 978 1 78335 149 7. Available as e-book. President Donald Trump’s first year in office was dogged by the ‘Russiagate’ scandal, sparked by allegations that the Russian authorities intervened to sway the 2016 US presi- dential election in Trump’s favour by undermining the campaign of his opponent, Hillary Clinton. President Trump has strongly denied that his campaign team colluded with Moscow and has deplored the allegations as ‘a cloud’ overhanging his presidency. The ongoing controversy has tied the hands of his administration and undermined hopes of improved relations between Russia and the US. These relations are now, according to a Russian Foreign Ministry statement in 2017, the worst they have been since the end of the Cold War. Improving them seems set to be, at best, a long and difficult process.

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Luke Harding describes the many forms that Russian meddling is alleged to have taken to further Trump’s presidential campaign and undermine Clinton’s. His book is a compel- ling read, providing much deeply researched detail. It opens with the story behind the so-called Steele dossier—a series of reports prepared by former British intelligence officer Christopher Steele. Their publication in January 2017 highlighted the possibility not only that the Russian authorities might have interfered in the US presidential election but, even more sensationally, that members of the Trump campaign team might have collaborated with the Russians in these efforts. The dossier was and remains highly controversial— supporting evidence has surfaced for some of its assertions but much has not (yet) been either confirmed or disproved. This is hardly surprising, given that, as Harding notes, Steele could not travel to Russia but depended for his information on intermediaries. As a result, Steele himself could not support the claims with verifiable data. To Harding’s credit, he repeatedly points out that, while Steele could not be sure of the dossier’s veracity, he did believe that it was credible (pp. 30, 32). One thing of which we can now be reasonably sure is that it was not the Steele dossier that prompted the US Federal Bureau of Investigation to launch its investigation into allega- tions of Russian meddling. That was provoked by information from foreign intelligence services who notified their US counterparts that Russia-connected hackers had attempted to access the computer systems of the US government in 2014 and those of the Democratic National Committee in 2015. Hacking foreign computer systems is standard practice for any intelligence service, but normally it is kept secret. Harding quotes the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency, General Michael Hayden, as telling him that what made this hacking operation different was that the data were ‘weaponized’ and ‘shoved into U.S. space’ in an apparent attempt to sow confusion in the minds of American voters (p. 104). Because of this, the US intelligence community saw it as part of a broader effort by the Russian authorities to undermine the 2016 election. The book draws on Harding’s own extensive research, which includes detailed informa- tion about Trump’s business connections in Russia, dating back to his first visit to Moscow in 1987. Harding reports on the interactions known and reported to have taken place between members of Trump’s campaign team and Russian officials, as well as delving into any Russia- or Ukraine-related business activities of Trump’s close associates—including campaign manager Paul Manafort, but also many other lesser-known individuals. He also describes how the Russian authorities purportedly sought to influence US public opinion, including through the purchase of advertisements on Facebook in 2015.Throughout the book, Harding provides additional insights drawn from his experience as Moscow corre- spondent for the Guardian. However, as with the Steele dossier, much of the evidence that Harding cites is circum- stantial and cannot be easily verified. In this respect, the book’s title is misleading—a question mark might have been appropriate. While the evidence that the book provides appears to point in the direction of collusion between the Russian authorities and members of the Trump campaign, we do not yet know whether Trump’s team actually engaged in such cooperation—that is, whether they did more than meet with Russian officials. Neither do we know what Russia’s intentions were. It seems likely that, rather than hoping for a Trump victory, which for a long time few foresaw, Moscow sought to undermine US democracy by, as General Hayden suggested, weakening American voters’ trust in their own system. If that was Moscow’s aim, then one might argue that the operation was largely successful since, as Harding argues, ‘it exploited pre-existing fault-lines in American society’ (p. 110). But if Moscow was hoping to see a US 468

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 North America administration that would be friendlier towards Russia—in particular, one that would lift the sanctions imposed by the Obama administration—it must have been disappointed. The ‘cloud’ remains over the heads of the Trump administration to this day and has prevented it from building better relations with Russia. This is a point that Harding makes strongly in the epilogue, where he asserts that Moscow’s attempt to intervene in the 2016 election was, for President Vladimir Putin, ‘a tactical triumph and a strategic disaster’ (p. 326). Hopefully we shall learn more when the investigation led by special counsel Robert Mueller reports its findings later this year. It is precisely because that investigation is ongoing that this book will remain useful, since it provides painstakingly researched background information on highly complex issues. On a concluding note, the book has an ­excellent index. A chronology might, however, have been a useful addition, as would a bibliography, of course not of the secret intelligence, but just of the several printed documents that are referenced in the text. Elizabeth Teague

Losing an enemy: Obama, Iran, and the triumph of diplomacy. By Trita Parsi. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press. 2017. 256pp. Index. £25.00. isbn 978 0 30021 816 9. Available as e-book. The nuclear agreement reached between Iran and the P5+1—the permanent members of the United Nations Security Council and Germany—is widely regarded as one of the most significant diplomatic achievements of recent times and a prime example of the efficacy of diplomacy when reinforced by a determined political will. Not surprisingly, it has resulted in a slew of accounts by those who were either keen observers or participated in the events in question. Trita Parsi, the president of the National Iranian American Council (NIAC), is the author of two previous books on US–Iran relations. Parsi, a passionate advocate of diplomacy between the United States and Iran, charts the stages of this relationship until, as the title suggests, the United States lost an enemy and diplomacy triumphed. This is above all a narrative of redemption. Lest there be any doubt, the preface is headed by the quote—‘Blessed are the Peacemakers’—which Parsi helpfully attributes to ‘Jesus of Nazareth ca. ad 30’. This is a tale of salvation, replete with its own cast of heroes and villains and narrated with self-assurance by an author who, at the very least, had a front row seat. Parsi goes to some length to establish his credentials as an objective observer, noting the extensive interviews his book is based on—‘more than seventy’—and makes much of the access he enjoyed ‘as a witness and minor actor in the process’ (p. x). He adds that he was both consulted and briefed by US government officials while maintaining close contacts with the Iranian negotiators, not least the Foreign Minister Javad Zarif. He stresses that he is careful to warn readers when developments depend on one or two sources. To this access and professed methodological rigour he adds his own analytical understanding of Iranian cultural norms and behaviour. While this is all very reassuring, it is a conceit that is unjustified. The narrative is engaging, but it is the established narrative. For all Parsi’s stated access, there is little material here that will be new to anyone who has had any interest in the negotiations. The book relates the abduction of the hikers in Iraqi Kurdistan; the Omani backchannel; John Kerry’s gradual engagement until he is finally appointed US Secretary of State; and the triumphant election of President Hassan Rouhani. The problems with and contestations of this narrative are, however, never addressed. For example, in an interview with a newspaper in Iran, the head of the Iranian Atomic Energy Agency, Ali Akbar Salehi, stated that Rouhani was shocked to learn of the extent 469

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews of the negotiations and that, far from being a turning-point, Rouhani’s election was but a staging post. Even Parsi concedes that ‘thanks to the Oman Channel’, the US and Iran had reached the finishing line of the interim agreement by September 2013—a few weeks after Rouhani’s inauguration. Although one could argue that the crucial finishing touches were implemented by Rouhani in a matter of weeks, this seems unlikely. The heroes in Parsi’s narrative are President Barack Obama, Kerry and Rouhani, along with the ubiquitous Zarif. They are the champions of diplomacy against the warmon- gers—chiefly the Israelis and their supporters in the Washington beltway—and the French, who, while not necessarily belligerent, are certainly petulant. The Iranians are by no means problem free and Parsi is clear that Rouhani had his own villains to contend with. He pulls no punches with respect to the inadequacies of Iranian politics and of the Green Movement in particular. However, these are presented as being incidental to the broader ­geopolitical challenges. Indeed, the political dynamic and debate within Iran is largely treated as secondary to the main narrative which focuses on the US and is dominated by English- language sources. Moreover, the overall sense is that the Iranians are much misunderstood. Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s statements are described as being belligerent and uncompro- mising to ‘the untrained eye’, but containing openings to be found by those who seek. One particular example is Khamenei’s much discussed case for ‘heroic flexibility’, which Parsi interprets as pragmatism and willingness to compromise. But of course an alternative reading—which is closer to the statement Khamenei actually made—is that in any engage- ment with an opponent, one may have to make tactical concession for strategic advantage. In fact, the metaphor Khamenei uses is that of a wrestler whose purpose is clearly to win, not to achieve some mutually acceptable compromise. Finally, the central problem with any attempt to narrate contemporary history, of course, is that of memory—all the more so when the narrative depends almost exclusively on interviews. This is by no means a problem particular to this case. In the absence of access to contemporaneous minutes, it is difficult to know who said what and when. And we know that in these negotiations, there were periods when no note-takers were present, as when Kerry and Zarif engaged in private talks. It is not surprising that there are contradic- tions in the interviewees’ recollections about what was intimated, suggested and promised. A much more rigorous approach to the sources is therefore a necessity. None of us are exempt from the problems of memory. In the conclusion, Parsi recounts a conference where he claims the Iranian delegation suggested they could recognize the state of Israel subject to the Israelis joining the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). This is an extraordinary claim which implies that the Iranians are not driven by ideology where the recognition of the state of Israel is concerned. Fortunately, this reviewer was also at the conference and my recollection is different. One of the Iranians, protesting double standards, pointed the finger at Israel. It was, as usual in these circumstances, noted that Israel was not a member of the NPT, to which the Iranian participant immediately responded that it should join. The enthusiasm rapidly receded when it was suggested that this demand, if publicly made, implied a formal recognition of the state of Israel. The suggestion stalled, and was quietly dropped. But then of course, that is my recollection, and subject to all the usual caveats. Ali Ansari, University of St Andrews, UK

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Republic in peril: American empire and the betrayal of the liberal tradition. By David C. Hendrickson. New York: Oxford University Press. 2017. 336pp. £22.99. isbn 978 0 19066 038 3. Available as e-book. The United States in 2018 is a country far removed from the founding principles of its foreign policy. America’s interventionist and hypocritical foreign policy has gravely undermined the liberal republican values of the country, causing harm both at home and abroad. Such is the argument offered by historian David C. Hendrickson inRepublic in peril. Hendrickson’s concern about the direction of US foreign policy is well founded and this well-written, flowing volume will be of interest to scholars, policy-makers and students of international relations. The irony of the US’ modern, militaristic foreign policy is hard to miss. The early republic was counselled by President George Washington not to indulge in any ‘habitual hatred or habitual fondness’ towards any country because to do so would make America ‘to some degree a slave’. He advised as ‘little political connection as possible’ to any other nation, placing an emphasis on commercial relations (Felix Gilbert, To the farewell address: ideas of early American foreign policy, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1961). Early American leaders, like their English ancestors, were worried about the threat a standing army might cause to elected civilian rule. Thus from the founding of the republic to the onset of the Cold War, the default setting was to downsize the military and significantly decrease funding after each war. But the permanent mobilization (supposedly) required by the Cold War turned the American model of civil–military relations on its head. The result—as President Dwight D. Eisenhower so prophetically warned during his farewell speech in 1961 and as George Kennan lamented on numerous occasions—has been the development of a supposedly ‘liberal’ militaristic American empire in all but name. Hendrickson addresses this issue head-on by pulling together political theory, historical cases and contemporary policy analysis in a comprehensive review of this paradoxical situation. The most important charge is that both Republicans and Democrats abandoned the US’ liberal values in exchange for military dominance and persistent interventionism. Democrats will not like hearing it, but as the author accurately notes: ‘Despite the promises of 2008 [of the Obama Campaign], there was more continuity than change in the Obama administration’s approach to foreign policy’ (p. 3). Hendrickson does an excellent job of unpacking the creation and expansion of an American ‘empire’ in the second half of the twentieth century and how America’s imperialist interventions helped contribute to the deterioration of the Westphalian system based on the principles of non-intervention and balance of power. It is the collapse of this system which, according to the author, invites pushback from more non-liberal forces. He contends that actions to uphold the ‘liberal world order’ actually destroy it. Central to its narrative is the fetishization of the military in modern America. This is in the same vein as Andrew J. Bacevich’s The new American militarism: how Americans are seduced by war (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), Rosa Brooks’s How everything became war and the military became everything: tales from the Pentagon (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016) and Rebecca U. Thorpe’s The American warfare state: the domestic politics of military spending (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2014). In the Trump era, where the US State Department is being dismantled bit by bit with even more promises of additional military funding, the reasons for concern highlighted by Hendrickson are very real. This is especially so given the (nearly) unquestioned worship of the armed forces by the public and the military’s perception of the armed forces as superior to the public they serve (‘After the wars’, Washington Post/Kaiser Family Foundation, 2013). 471

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The book, however, is not without flaws. Hendrickson lumps the US approach to Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea into the same category as the interventions in Iraq (2003) and Libya (2011). This is simply bad analysis. The uprising against Viktor Yanukovych came from within Ukraine after he appointed a hard-line cabinet and went back on several promises directly against the wishes of the voters—it was not a US initiative. Similarly, Hendrickson’s interpretation of the conflict in the South China Sea between the People’s Republic of China and international law is reduced to a conflict between China and the US. He argues that the US position on ‘freedom of navigation’ is facile, since China would also want to ensure the same right. However, in his zeal to attack the US, the author fails to acknowledge the Chinese are both paving over underwater reefs—which, in addition to being an environmental tragedy, is also completely illegal—and that they have used these ‘islands’ not for commercial reasons but as bases for military assets, which greatly upsets China’s neighbours. The International Court of Justice in The Hague ruled in favour of the Philippines and against China on this issue in July 2016, which seems to be a rather good example of how the liberal world order should work, but Hendrickson does not address this important facet of the situation. It would be a shame, however, to allow these overreaches to detract from the finer sections of the book. The author’s analyses of the unsuitability of the US Air–Sea Battle plan for use against China, the lack of strategic thinking about the functionality of modern nuclear weapons and, most importantly, the need for a general rethink about American engagement with the world under a ‘new internationalism’ are to be recommended. Isola- tionists and interventionists will both be disappointed with the conclusion of Republic in peril, which argues that a return to the traditions of republican liberty will be better for US national security and genuine global stability. Some of the suggestions to pull back from certain areas, such as the Baltics or parts of Asia, are not realistic, but there are many lessons in this rather fine book that policy-makers on both sides of the political aisle in Washington would do well to heed. Michael John Williams, New York University, USA

Latin America and Caribbean

Forgotten peace: reform, violence, and the making of contemporary Colombia. By Robert A. Karl. Oakland, CA: University of California Press. 2017. 328pp. £70.95. isbn 978 0 52029 392 2. Available as e-book. On 9 April 1948, Colombian Liberal Party politician Jorge Eliécer Gaitán was murdered on the streets of Bogotá. The killing ignited urban riots and spurred a new round of partisan violence across the countryside. The following decade, so central to the national narrative that it became known simply as La Violencia (the violence), saw perhaps 200,000 people killed and tens of thousands displaced. Violence provoked a coup and several years of military rule—an aberration for Colombia. Historian Robert A. Karl’s exceptional new book, Forgotten peace, recounts efforts to end the pattern of violence. As Karl notes, Colom- bia’s history is marked by an unusual combination: relative democracy and staggering levels of internal violence. That pairing continues to this day, alongside efforts to create peace, making his book strikingly current. While spectacular in its scale and intensity, La Violencia continued old practices of settling political scores. The Colombian Conservative Party ended a period of Liberal rule in 1946 and used its ascendancy to solidify local political control and seize land through forced 472

International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Latin America and Caribbean displacements. This merged violence, politics and economic motives—all indicating that peace would require more than halting the killing. In 1957, political leaders forged a power- sharing agreement called the National Front to ease the transition back to civil rule. The pact’s originator was Alberto Lleras Camargo, a former Liberal provisional president and the first secretary-general of the Organization of American States. The statesman embodied the optimistic ethos of the early years of the National Front, which saw real progress, with a reduction in the violence and the gradual return of the displaced. Some combatant groups disbanded and the national state engaged the countryside with resources to support peace and meet longstanding demands for land, loans and roads. In short, there was a substantial effort to create local peace pacts, a so-called ‘paz criolla’ (creole peace) as the 1950s ended. Above all, Karl sheds light on the contributions of the letrados (men of letters), whose involvement emerged, in part, from the disconnect between urban elites and the realities of rural violence. The National Investigatory Commission on Violence sent letrados into the countryside for an exceptional effort of investigation, memory collection and peace- building. Commissioners visited far-flung regions with little history of state interaction— exercising a combination of inchoate sociology, political symbolism, negotiation and Christian fellowship (clergy were central participants). Colombian understandings of this period were substantially developed by or in contestation to work that emerged from the Commission. The victories of the creole peace soon spurred contestation. The local distribu- tion of resources often followed partisan logics, sparking Conservative criticism. As the displaced returned to their lands, they clashed with those who had claimed the territory. International interest in development was accompanied by increasingly inflexible anti-­ communism provoked by events in Cuba, which Conservatives referenced to reject social reforms. A more surprising threat to conviviencia (roughly, coexistence) originated from the work of the Commission. In 1962, these letrados published La violencia en Colombia, drawing on the Commission’s earlier research. The study treated violence as a defining feature of Colombian politics; in later iterations, its authors converted lower-case ‘violence’ into the capitalized La Violencia. The book uncovered barely submerged partisan rancour and the ensuing storm threatened the tenuous political truce. Meanwhile, the Colombian military launched offensives against holdout ‘independent republics’, at times accompanied by military-led modernization efforts. However, this ‘could not substitute for civilian neglect of the frontier’ (p. 208), which remained a feature of the Colombian conflict. Coupled with increased militarization, this neglect set the stage for the emergence of Colombia’s best-known rebel band, the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC). Engagingly written and peppered with anecdotes, Karl’s book is both a part of and a rejoinder to the new generation of studies of Latin America and the Cold War. Like Forgotten Peace, many of these studies draw on deep archival research in Latin America. They have supplemented our knowledge of local dynamics of the Cold War and demonstrated that local actors retained agency and often centrality. This is visible in the National Front and its creole peace, but it is even more evident in the event most associated with the Cold War in Colombia—the emergence of communist guerrilla forces. Karl firmly situates the FARC’s creation and historical leadership in grievances springing from local politics. Only later, and somewhat hesitantly, did the FARC’s founders embrace the internationalized rhetoric of their urban, communist brethren (p. 183). Karl’s history celebrates a remarkable effort at peace-making in Colombia while also reminding us of its tremendous challenges. Tom Long, University of Warwick, UK

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International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Book reviews

Latin America and the First World War. By Stefan Rinke. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2017. 314pp. Index. £64.99. isbn 978 1 107 12720 3. Available as e-book. In Latin America and the First World War, a translation of a work that first appeared in German in 2015, with the more evocative title Im Sog der Katastrophe [In the maelstrom of the catas- trophe], Stefan Rinke examines the profound impact that the First World War had on all the countries of Latin America. ‘Never before’, Rinke contends, ‘had an event overseas aroused such a response among the Latin American public’ (p. 107). The war represented a departure for Latin America in several important respects. It marked the first time that independent Latin American states entered into an extra-hemispheric war and the widespread debate about the war brought the continent—somewhat more nebulously—into the ‘global public sphere’ (p. 195) as never before. The sanguinary conflict also destroyed the ‘meta-narrative about Europe’s singular embodiment of civilization and culture’ (p. 262) that had prevailed since the early nineteenth century. Rinke had made use of a truly impressive range of primary sources: ten Latin American archives—including those of Costa Rica, Ecuador and Paraguay—as well as the standard German, British and US holdings; a host of newspapers and magazines from all nineteen independent Latin American countries, in which the region’s intellectuals fervently debated the various issues arising from the war; and a number of contemporary cartoons which reflect some of the themes discussed. The author has also consulted—and substantially built on—the budding Latin American historiography on the subject, although this has been limited to the stance of individual countries towards the war. Thus, the bibliography alone constitutes an important resource for researchers. Unsurprisingly, the book devotes considerable space to the German attempt to influ- ence public opinion in its favour and to the social sectors that proved responsive, dispelling the hitherto predominant notion of overwhelming pro-Entente sentiment in the region; conversely, Rinke has understandably nothing especially new to say about the ‘secret war’ in Mexico—the most salient aspect of which was the infamous Zimmermann telegram in early 1917—that has brought forth a slew of monographs. The introduction outlines Latin America’s post-independence economic and cultural orientation towards Europe, in particular France, in order to highlight the profound sense of disillusionment that ensued from the unprecedented carnage. A lengthy opening chapter treats the years 1914 to 1917, when all the Latin American states maintained formal neutrality. The chapter discusses the varying reactions to the outbreak of war; the problems to which the status of neutrality gave rise, such as the internment of German ships and the Entente’s blacklisting of German firms; the initial shockwaves to the regional economy deriving from an overdependence on the European market; and the propaganda offensive by both sets of belligerents. Rinke then turns to analysing the decision by each country—in the wake of the US entry into the war in April 1917—either to break relations with Germany and subsequently enter the war on the side of the Entente or to maintain neutrality. He next considers the impact of the wider war, particularly the regional reverberations of the Russian Revolution and Latin American states’ frustrating experience at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919. The book’s two remaining chapters turn back to more discursive topics. First, the variegated stance of Latin American intellectuals throughout the course of the war, and second, a final meditation on the way the war, directly and indirectly, proved a ‘catalyst and transformer’ for Latin America, creating a more open ‘path to the future’ by giving rise to ‘emancipatory ambitions’, particularly in economic and cultural terms (pp. 254–5).

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International Affairs 94: 2, 2018 Latin America and Caribbean

I have a number of general criticisms of this fine book. The first concerns the limited range of belligerents dealt with by the author. Austria–Hungary, Germany’s closest ally and arguably the war’s progenitor, is virtually invisible; there are just three passing references to the Central Powers as a grouping, and no mention at all of the Ottoman Empire as a major belligerent, despite the acknowledged presence in Latin America of influential traders from its constituent parts. What was the attitude of the Latin American states towards these two multi-ethnic empires? Were diplomatic relations maintained or broken after 1917? On the Entente side, the only mentions of Russia relate to the domestic ramifications of the Russian Revolution. Did Latin American intellectuals supportive of Britain and France have difficulty in reconciling the fact that these two democracies were aligned—before its collapse—with an empire even more autocratic than Germany? Rinke refers only twice to the presence of Italian immigrant communities in countries such as Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay, though they must surely have had an impact on the course of the public debate about the war in favour of the Entente. These are clearly avenues for future research. Second, the book has unfortunately been translated a little too literally from the German original, resulting in the overuse of the definite article and some rather clunky sentences. Finally, readers will need to refer frequently to the index, as well as to the separate list of contemporary sources, to keep a handle on the myriad personalities and their respective platforms—this is due to the inadequate way they are identified after their first citation. In sum, Stefan Rinke’s deeply researched volume proffers the broad Latin American dimension—hitherto lacking—of the most transformative conflict of the twentieth century. It is the kind of nuanced study that is needed about Latin America’s role in the even more calamitous global conflagration twenty years later. Philip Chrimes

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International Affairs 94: 2, 2018