|
FOREWORD
This is a provocative book, not just because it advances a critical theory or a counter-intuitive interpretation but also because it poses important and tough questions about some crucial issues of both social science inquiry and contemporary U.S. foreign policy. Such is Alex Roberto Hybel's purpose: to stir thought about how one teases meaning out of the welter of phenomena relevant to the conduct of world affairs in general and the United States in particular. Readers are offered repeated opportunities to ponder alternative explanations even as Professor Hybel suggests a way of constructively synthesizing them. As a result, he provides readers with the power to fit the pieces of foreign policy puzzles together on their own and a host of good reasons why they are well-advised to exercise this power on behalf of greater comprehension.
The tough questions posed here revolve around the issue of rationality in world affairs. Although he does not say it in so many words, Hybel rightly presumes that adherence to the tenets of rational behavior can, other things being equal, have beneficial consequences for both those who act in the public arena and those toward whom the actions are directed. But, as he emphasizes, others things are rarely equal. A wide array of dynamics can intrude at a number of points in the processes through which foreign policy decisions are made and actions subsequently taken. The intrusions can originate with demands in the external world, with stresses and strains of the domestic scene, with rivalries that sustain governmental bureaucracies, and with distortions in the minds and hearts of officials. So pervasive and inevitable are the intrusions, in fact, that pure rationality—the kind in which action flows from a thorough assessment of the alternative means to move toward clearly specified goals on the basis of full and accurate information and frequent post-decision feedback—is beyond realization. Time is too scarce, information is too imperfect, resources are too limited, people are too flawed, and organizations are too cumbersome for rationality to ever carry the day in the policy-making process. The most that can be accomplished is a minimization of the obstacles to rational action, a continuous attention to the possibility of distortion, an ever-present readiness to correct for the mistakes that take policies off course.
Endless questions flow from an awareness that policy is destined to be less than rational: Do the prevailing conditions of world politics determine policy outcomes irrespective of the calculations and resolve of policy makers? Are the international and domestic forces which play upon officials so powerful and pervasive as to dictate their choices irrespective of their values and talents? Does it matter, that is, who the officials are, what their experiences have been, or how ambitious they may be? Dare one argue that causation is exclusively located in the perceptions and misperceptions of the individuals who decide on a course of action? Is it possible to synthesize the various sources of foreign policy in such a way as to allow for an interplay between the objective forces of world politics and the subjective interpretation of them by policy makers? If the latter know they are susceptible to misperception—to a need to maintain cognitive balances, group harmonies, and hierarchical arrangements at the expense of an accurate grasp of the situations they seek to affect—can they not offset their vulnerabilities and thereby ensure effective and efficient policy choices?
The answers to such questions are not self-evident. They can be varied as the theories one employs to attribute causal strength to the diverse factors at work in a situation. And to the extent situations are marked by unique demands, then to that extent will note also have to be taken of varying answers to the foregoing questions. There is, in other words, an interaction between the observers and their theories on the one hand and the actors and their situational circumstances on the other. If the actors conduct themselves in ways not anticipated by the theories of the observers, then explanation and understanding are bound to be faulty. It follows that cogent foreign policy analysis requires both sound theory and incisive empirical description that sorts out the relevant from the irrelevant, differentiates between causes and effects, allows for the intensity of motives, anticipates the likelihood of misperception, or otherwise accounts for deviations from the rational path.
It is the strength of this book that Professor Hybel offers both the theoretical and empirical materials out of which keen understanding is developed. His empirical focus is the Bush administration's policies designed to meet and reverse Iraq's conquest of Kuwait in 1990; but to the details of this case he brings a number of theoretical perspectives, noting their strengths and weaknesses in the light of the evolving circumstances of the Gulf War. Here readers can witness the interplay of actors and their goals, states and their constraints, decision-making organizations and their rivalries, individuals and their reasoning, all juxtaposed in the context of rational deterrence theory, attribution theory, cognitive consistency theory, and schema theory. Doubtless time will yield diplomatic and policy-making documents that necessitate alterations in Professor Hybel's early account of decision making high in the Bush administration, but the virtues of his analysis will not be undermined by subsequent modifications of the empirical materials. On the contrary, any new facts that emerge can be readily accommodated by the theoretical constructs he provides.
In short, this is more than another case study. Its enduring contribution is that it provides the context within which any case materials relevant to the conduct of foreign policy can be evaluated. So let the reader enjoy this brief tour of two horizons, one that depicts a crucial moment in international history and another that brings that moment vividly alive with insight and meaning.
James N. Rosenau
Preface
It has been traditionally assumed that men and women make history. Few have captured this idea better than Thucydides some twenty-five centuries ago. Conscious that city-states were restrained by international necessities, he observed that it was up to their leaders to design policies that widened the range of choice.1 But he also noted that different leaders were not impelled by the same passions, beliefs, or intentions, and did not possess the same leadership qualities. In Pericles, Thucydides found a ruler who rekindled the Athenian spirit and recognized the obstacles Athens had to surmount in order to sustain choice. In Cleon, he encountered a ruler who used violence to promote not Athens's well-being but his own—a man who possessed "a vulgar mind, acute in a second-rate manner, without intelligence or humanity."2 It was on Pericles' shoulders that Thucydides placed Athens's hope, but it was Cleon's selfishness and meanness that helped bring about its downfall.
The interest expressed by Thucydides regarding the role leaders play as they seek to promote their states' objectives remained intact through the centuries. But then came Marx, and said to the world: "The mode of production of material life conditions the social, political, and intellectual life process in general. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness."3 Marx did not intend to argue that men and women did not have choices and could not alter their social environment.4 His words, however, weighed heavily on the minds of subsequent generations.
Influenced by the fear that the individual was being dehumanized by uncaring systems, and by the conviction that they could help alter such systems, social scientists began to probe their nature. Early successes inspired them to search deeper for better answers. In time, however, they lost sight of the fact that their original intent was to free the individual, not to forget him. Their remissness made the individual less relevant—an entity too weak to combat society's forces.
Scientific research without shared paradigms is impossible.5 But adherence to a set of paradigms also has the tendency to bind its promoters to a very narrow perspective of what is acceptable. The belief that structures mattered more than the thoughts and actions of individuals developed long and rigid tentacles, that extended into all but a few social science fields. In international politics, students lost interest on how foreign policy makers reasoned and why they reasoned the way they did. They accounted for the decisions and actions of foreign policy makers as part of rational processes responding to objective obstacles and opportunities. Foreign policy makers stopped being men and women with unique identities and became actors whose roles were defined entirely by situations, power, and interests.
To focus on decision makers is not deny the existence of systemic forces, but to view them through the eyes of those who must respond to their presence. This strategy is costly. Its most immediate victims are accuracy and parsimony. Data depicting the beliefs, values, and intentions of decision makers are difficult to access and unreliable. Moreover, cognitive models are inherently more complex than those that rely solely on power, national interest, and rationality. But if our ultimate goal is to understand better the nature of international politics, these obstacles should not deter us.
This book and the series in which it is presented, "The Making of Foreign Policy: Theories and Issues," are modest attempts to help revive the idea that decision makers matter. For some, the empirical content of the book may seem questionable. Some may wonder whether it is wise to address the nature of the decision-making process during the Gulf crisis by relying on so few empirical sources, published not long after the event itself had ended.
I think it is. Undoubtedly, as memoirs by members of the Bush administration are published and new documents released, many of the conclusions arrived here will come under attack. But such a risk comes with the territory.6 The intent of this book is not to put forward the last word on what transpired at the White House, Department of State, and Department of Defense. Instead, its objective is to propose a typology of decision-making aptitudes designed to explain foreign policy decisions and to assess the quality of the process. The handling of the Gulf crisis by the Bush administration is presented primarily as an example to demonstrate the typology's theoretical and practical value.
My indebtedness to others for the content of this book is substantial. Students come and go, and after a while most of them become part of a blur in our memory. But students at the School of International Relations at the University of Southern California were the ones who, as I voiced some of the theoretical ideas I have managed finally to put on paper, provoked me to rethink them, be clearer, and more precise. I also benefited extensively from the comments I received from Robert Keohane, Dwain Mefford, and anonymous reviewers. In addition, I am forever thankful to Thomas Biersteker, Stephen Lamy, Abraham Lowenthal, John Odell, James Rosenau, and Ronald Steel. Although they never read this manuscript as it was being put together, their friendship and unbending support made its completion possible. As always, I am very grateful to my mother-in-law, Barbara Peurifoy, for editing the final draft. And finally, I must extend my appreciation to Connecticut College for providing the funds necessary to complete the project.
Chapter One
Power, War, and Decision-Making Aptitudes
The very powerful can afford not to be rational. Inordinate amounts of power free decision makers from having to engage in systematic-decision making procedures to attain their objectives. Even amongst the powerful, however, success without rationality is not eternal. The presence of rationality in an uncertain world cannot guarantee victory, but its repeated absence courts disaster.
To many Americans, the Gulf War symbolized the end of the Vietnam syndrome and the beginning of a new era. A war that many experts claimed would drag on for months, result in the deaths of thousands of young American soldiers, and split the nation into rancorous factions, brought about precisely the opposite effects. Forty-eight days after the war had begun, and at the cost of but 146 American lives, the United States succeeded in preserving its access and that of the industrialized world to the Arabian oil fields.1 …
|
