SANDINISTAS

I admit that in my teens I had admired the Sandinistas (and to this very day I still admire the Clash album of the same name). I lost my admiration for them in my early twenties – realizing that Violetta Chammoro was a far more acceptable opponent to the Somoza regime than the corrupt, totalitarian, Sandinistas could ever be.

That said, I never fully came to terms with US support for the thuggish governments elsewhere in the region, particularly in Guatemala and Salvador. There, the death-squad culture seemed exceptionally ugly and the guerrillas somehow didn't seem as nasty as some of their South American comrades - notably Colombia's FARC and the nutcase Sendero Luminoso in Peru. Alberto Fujimori was one of the few right-wing dictators who, at that time, seemed far, far, more acceptable than the armed opposition.

I mention this because Mark Steyn offered me some food for thought about the record of Ronald Reagan in bringing democracy to the region:

What changed the dynamic in the region? Two things: Mrs Thatcher’s Falklands War, which was a decisive defeat for Latin-American macho militarism; and Ronald Reagan’s determination to roll back Communist expansion, at a time of Castro-friendly coups in Grenada and elsewhere. After the 1982 US-backed elections in El Salvador, Reagan addressed Parliament in London and committed America to a “campaign for democracy”. This was as big a break with the realpolitik crowd on Central America as last year’s Bush speech - also at Westminster, also on liberty - was with the realpolitik crowd on the Middle East.

When I read Steyn's piece, I accepted that Reganism was good for the Americas on a large scale - especially by setting the stage for the hemisphere-wide free-trade area. But still thought Reagan was too soft on allies in the region, turning a blind eye to abuses in Central America. As well, in the case of Argentina, the administration was too slow to back the British.

I tried to think that none of that mattered. Perhaps Reagan had a bigger vision that was worth achieving. But I couldn't quite bring myself to that point.

Steyn also noted Bush's Whitehall speech, in my mind the best one of his career:

We must shake off decades of failed policy in the Middle East. Your nation and mine, in the past, have been willing to make a bargain, to tolerate oppression for the sake of stability. Longstanding ties often led us to overlook the faults of local elites. Yet this bargain did not bring stability or make us safe. It merely bought time, while problems festered and ideologies of violence took hold.
As recent history has shown, we cannot turn a blind eye to oppression just because the oppression is not in our own backyard. No longer should we think tyranny is benign because it is temporarily convenient. Tyranny is never benign to its victims, and our great democracies should oppose tyranny wherever it is found.

The Bush Whitehall speech resonated strongly with me. And I agree with Steyn that in the post 9-11 world there is a need to turn one old cliché on its head and shed some former allies. No longer should we accept the line that “he may be a sonofabitch, but he’s our sonofabitch,“ instead we need to accept that “he may be our sonofabitch, but he’s a sonofabitch.”

I also remembered that when I heard Bush's Whitehall speech, it cheered me because I welcomed the indication that the US would back away from its support of unsavory characters. Something that in the 1980s, I felt Reagan didn't always do.

Of course, the Cold War was a different time and had different rules. Carter's humanitarian emphasis, it has been argued, paved the way for revolutions against friendly sonofbitches in Nicaragua and Iran - the latter revolution a regretable inspiration to today's Islamic militants. If I accepted this view, Reagan's foreign policy was the best for the time.

Reagan's UN Ambassador Jeanne Kirkpatrick, as noted in this book review, was somewhat of an advocate of supporting 'our sonsofbitches':

Authoritarian regimes she argued, like Iran and Nicaragua, though they obviously did not meet our preferred standards of democratization, were fundamentally just harsh, but traditional, governments of countries which had known no other type of government and were perhaps not yet ready for democracy :

Traditional autocrats leave in place existing allocations of wealth, power, status, and other resources, which in most traditional societies favor an affluent few and maintain masses in poverty. But they worship traditional gods and observe traditional taboos. They do not disturb the habitual rhythms of work and leisure, habitual places of residence, habitual patterns of family and personal relations.

Essentially, the autocracies protect their own power and wealth, but leave most other aspects of life relatively untouched. As the name implies, they are more concerned with who in society will wield authority, i.e. themselves, than with imposing any particular ideology. Because this is the case, they in fact preserve many of the institutions upon which democracy can later be built, whether the Church or corporations or other civic organizations.
Totalitarian regimes, on the other hand, as the name implies, seek to totally reinvent and control every aspect of society. This requires them to so violate the existing institutions as to render the society nearly incapable of evolving into a democracy.

While Kirkpatrick's essay indicates a US government willing to tolerate 'our sonsofbitches,' it would be unfair not to note that she was - and remains - considered one of the leading neo-conservatives – seeking to promote democratization through securing US strength, opposing détente and challenge the Soviet Union. Peter J. Wallison argues, fairly convincingly, that Reagan shared in the idealism of neo-conservatism.

So, why did I buy the neo-con argument today and not in the 1980s. Perhaps today's neo-conservatives (and I use that much-maligned term with respect) were more keenly aware that supporting autocracies was no longer in US interests. But I had to admit that there were still lapses – a more dedicated push for change is needed in several 'allies,' like Pakistan, Uzbekistan and the dreaded Saudi Arabia. For some reason that I didn't yet comprehend, the 'neo-con' worldview just seemed more positive to me in the present than it did in the 1980s.

As I thought back, I still found it hard to reconcile myself with Reagan's record in the Americas. I could logically accept that the man was considering a bigger picture than I was. I had become more of a realist since then - more willing to accept the necessity of the US dealing with places like Uzbekistan in order to attain longer-term goals.

Yet, I was uncomfortable with retroactively accepting Reagan's Latin American policies. I had accepted the logic and realism of his legacy, but I could not stop feeling, emotionally, that I was right. That's when I had my eureka moment.

In the 1980s I was interested in the same things as every teenager. Sure, there was a 'cold war' but it didn't seem real. It was abstract. It was something that always existed. It wasn't something that I felt threatened me. I didn't really believe that there was a war on. I had no fear of our enemies. I certainly had no anger.

Today things are different. I have no doubt that there is currently a war or that we have enemies. I don't live in fear, but I do harbor grave concerns that these nihilists will eventually move beyond boxcutters, car bombs and beheadings. Also, I am angry.

I see the parents of Kim Sun-il and I am angry. I see the bombings in Baghdad and I am angry. I consider the murders of Nick Berg, Danny Pearl and Paul Johnson and I am angry.

And I see people protesting the war – one that was declared on us - and I am angry.

“What can they be thinking?” I ask myself. If we stop fighting there will not be peace. If we retreat there will only be more blood. There can be no détente with these people, they want our blood.

Of course, I know what they are thinking. They are thinking the same thing that I was during the Cold War: “There is no war.”

I could defend my behavior back then by arguing that détente equaled a sort of peace, by remembering that there was no official declaration of war and recalling that the Soviets never actually attacked us. I could do that but I won't. I just admit that I was dangerously naïve.

Still, even remembering my naïveté, I can't understand how anyone can think that way today.