From Parameters, Spring 2001, pp. 125-35.
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Confronted with the political disintegration of the Yugoslav federation in the early 1990s, historian John Lukacs observed that Woodrow Wilson was in retrospect beginning to make Lenin look like a small fry. "The ideas of this pale Presbyterian professor-president," he wrote, "were more revolutionary than those of the Bolshevik radical from the middle Volga region." It's hard to argue with that. Just as Wilson's propagation of national self-determination destroyed European empires in 1918, it also demolished states Wilson helped to create--Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia--and it continues to pose challenges to the sovereignty of states that did not exist in Wilson's time. For all the mischief and misery it begat, the Soviet Union is gone. The ideas upon which it was founded are today taken seriously by nobody of consequence. Lenin is dead, but Wilson lives as possibly the most vital force in the international relations of our time.
This the more so, possibly, because Wilson himself is presently so badly understood. His Fourteen Points, presented to Congress on 8 January 1918, was simultaneously a statement of war aims and the proposed blueprint of principles for postwar peace. "An evident principle runs through the whole program," Wilson noted, "the principle of justice to all peoples and nationalities, and their right to live on equal terms of liberty and safety with one another, whether they be strong or weak." By declaring balance-of-power diplomacy defunct and raising national self-determination as a principle on which peace would henceforth depend, Wilson prescribed nothing less than a fundamental reconstitution of international relations.
However, as a President-at-war and international statesman he was in many respects less idealistic in 1919 than we tend to be now. Wilsonian internationalism--of which both the principle of national self-determination and the "opinion" of humankind in support of it became integral parts--was an ideological innovation of American foreign policy in response to the extraordinary threats posed by imperialism, fascism, and communism to the liberal democracies. Historian Frank Ninkovich points out that as they were interpreted and put into practice by his successors, Wilson's ideals amounted to a set of principles imperfectly applied to navigate American diplomacy through the century-long crisis "until the kind of world envisioned at the beginning of the century once again came into view." As of 1989, in other words, Wilsonianism could be considered a self-liquidating creed.
In the year 2001, moreover, we have the benefit of more than 80 years of European history to which Wilson could not turn for evidence that his hopes for international peace were justified. Wilson held, for example, that after 1919 democratic governments emerging in the place of autocracy would never permit the catastrophe of 1914-18 to happen again. He believed further that he understood better what was in the hearts and minds of the populace of the new German republic than the defunct regime that had taken the Kaiserreich to war. As it turned out, he was wrong. The Weimar Republic committed suicide at the polls, and its successor put self-determination to work in the name of Sudeten Germans but in the service of conquest. Today, illiberal democracy is fashionable as never before. Populist demagogues, many of them elected, cultivate ethnic resentment and ride it to power.
Over the past decade ethnonationalism--the mobilization of ethnic minorities in pursuit of political goals, ranging from redress of specific grievances against the majority population to outright secession and independent statehood--has established itself as possibly the most potent threat to international peace and stability. The principle of national self-determination was critical to the dismantling of the Soviet Union and thus a radical reduction of its military menace to the West. But the same process simultaneously unleashed long-repressed political energies which, in the prophetic words of Max Kampelman, could "drag much of Europe back into the shadows from which [it] has so recently emerged." It has certainly been just so in Yugoslavia, where ethnic minorities have sought human rights and self-determination in order to deny both to others. Propelled by a confused mixture of good intention and a frantic desire to adapt itself to a post-Cold War world, the NATO Alliance has made itself the errand boy of ethnic secessionism in the Balkans, most recently and spectacularly in the southern Serbian province of Kosovo. This has come about because NATO governments have sought agreement on a unified policy and have in the effort deluded themselves and their respective publics both about the nature of their specific actions in the Balkans and some of the more elementary facts of international affairs. It won't do to blame Woodrow Wilson for the consequences.
Wilsonianism, Muscular and Realistic
Admittedly, the transformation of Europe has for the most part been a far sunnier experience than the serial wars of the Yugoslav succession, and NATO has played a creative role in much of it. When the Alliance issued invitations of membership to the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland in July 1997, the strategic, economic, and above all historic prudence in doing so was readily apparent. It would have been strange indeed if, after the implosion of the Soviet empire, the West had been unwilling to extend its frontiers into three states so often the victims of geopolitical mischief and tyranny in the last century. Each had rebelled in its own way against Soviet tyranny; many of the changes ventured by Gorbachev to reform the Soviet system had been anticipated or attempted in Warsaw, Budapest, and Prague. Poland and Hungary had negligible ethnic minority problems, while the Czech Republic had divorced from Slovakia in a democratic process that stands out above all for its civility.
Additionally, hard interests and wholesome geopolitical factors were also at work. The consolidation of representative government and progress of market economies in all of them touched on the vital interests of the recently reunited Germany. Eastern enlargement of NATO, argued Karsten Voigt, a Social Democratic member of the Bundestag, would bind Germany "into a structure that practically obliges Germany to take the interests of its neighbors into consideration." The eventual eastward extension of the European Union will add another layer of deep multilateral ties Germany maintains with France and the Benelux states to its west and Poland and the Czech Republic in the east. To have all these states in an alliance of democracies represents a victory over history. Between the wars France attempted to build alliances in Eastern Europe against Germany. The new arrangement means that though the Europe of Yalta is gone the continent will not revert to the Europe of Versailles.
The enlargement also benefited from an alignment of German and American interests. Whereas for Bonn the geopolitics loomed large--a new and promising manifestation of Ostpolitik--Washington saw enlargement as integral to broadening NATO's functional mandate. In anticipation of Russian objections Volker Rühe, then German Defense Minister, gave the most hard-headed Wilsonian explanation of why expansion represented an investment in peace:
Now that [the states of Eastern Europe] have liberated themselves from Soviet hegemony, the time has come to extend them benefits, help them live by Western standards, consolidate freedom, democracy, and the rule of law. . . . This is the very essence of the concept of extending NATO and the European Union to the East. Without democracy, stability, and the free market economy, this geographic part of Europe will remain vulnerable to the old problems of conflicting historical resentments, ambitions, and territorial and ethnic disputes. . . . We cannot save reform in Russia by placing reform in Central and East-Central Europe at risk.Enlarging the ambit of civil democracy and multilateral security into the Visegrad countries, in short, draws on the best in Wilsonian tradition leavened by the bitter experience of Europe's 20th century in war and politics.
In appreciating the prudence of the Alliance's expansion into the Visegrad Three it is difficult to overstress the vital ingredient of credible self-interest. Few West Europeans fail to appreciate that the success of democratic government and market economies there enhances the political stability that a military alliance can shield from invasion but cannot of itself provide. In the Czech, Polish, and Hungarian economies, market and investment opportunities abound, relatively undisturbed by the shocks that have shaken the Balkans as a result of the cynical political orchestration of ethnic conflict. Although NATO has not expanded officially into the Yugoslav successor states, the great irony is that, beginning with the secession of Croatia and Slovenia from the Yugoslav Federation, the Alliance is in many respects more substantively present there than it is in any of the Visegrad Three. Alliance expansion in Northeastern Europe is the result of an astute and coherent diplomacy accomplished through a window of opportunity afforded by the collapse of Soviet power and the possible emergence of a recidivist regime in Moscow, a Wilsonianism both muscular and realistic. Muscular because the security guarantee is serious and strategically rational; realistic because major members of the Alliance--France, Germany, and the United States--see their interests served by it. Bluntly put, the Alliance is working with good wood.
The NATO commitment in the former Yugoslavia, by contrast, is the result of hesitant and ad hoc crisis management. In retrospect the Alliance's actions there cannot be accurately described as either realistic or very muscular. In Bosnia and Kosovo in particular the good wood of civility and tolerance that represents the foundation of any democracy appears to be in scarce supply. A year after the official success of the Alliance's punitive air war against Serbia and its subsequent occupation of Kosovo, the province was seething with hatred, corruption, and lawlessness. The nearly one million ethnic Albanians who were driven out by Serb paramilitary forces have returned. Homes are being rebuilt and voters are being registered for elections. But Kosovo is officially a UN protectorate and unofficially a NATO trusteeship, where arson, slayings, and grenade attacks serve as a daily reminder that peace is not the uppermost priority of everyone. The political future of the province is as uncertain as at any time since the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. A regime of international trusteeship, therefore, comes at a particularly inopportune time. The ethnic and political power struggle within the province has essentially been interrupted rather than resolved by the Alliance's intervention. Professions of disinterested neutrality notwithstanding, writes David Fromkin, NATO is "imposing an international regime on a foreign population that will perceive that regime as imperialist--and it is too late for imperialism."
The Jargon of Conflict Resolution
I submit that Fromkin does not go far enough. Western claims to neutral disinterestedness have been critical both to the fact and form of a disingenuous intervention as well as to Serb and Kosovar perceptions of that intervention. When the Cold War ended, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia lost simultaneously a principal constraint on any open contest of its domestic disputes as well as its geopolitical importance to NATO. But in an international context that suddenly permitted a more forthright pursuit of Wilsonian goals; however, the advent of egregious human rights abuses in the Balkans seemed to demand a principled response. Faced with a situation in which no Western power had a direct interest, governments, nongovernmental organizations, and multilateral institutions turned to the desiccated vocabulary of conflict resolution in order to stake out noncommittal positions. The "international community" registered its outrage, reiterated its commitment to the "outer wall of sanctions" against Belgrade, and stressed the importance of a "negotiating process" to a "win-win outcome for both parties."
The Alliance had no consuming interest in Yugoslavia's dismemberment, but neither did its members want to get involved in holding it together. At each stage of secession and recognition, Western governments hoped against the available evidence that it would all go away. As NATO became more involved--driven more by the here-and-now of news management in the new age of ethnic cleansing than any vision of where involvement would lead--its member-states were increasingly alone in actually coming to believe in the purity of intention their rhetoric claimed. None of Yugoslavia's constituent nationalities were as deluded. For Belgrade, Western support for the principle of self-determination was a cover for the incorporation of chunks of the former Yugoslavia into the European Union and NATO, a predictable Drang nach Osten after the implosion of Soviet power. After events in Bosnia introduced the term "ethnic cleansing" to the popular Western vocabulary in 1992, both the Bush and Clinton administrations warned Belgrade that the United States would not regard human rights abuses inside the Serb province of Kosovo as a purely domestic affair. When limited NATO airpower was used to force the Serbs to the bargaining table in Bosnia, the most ambitious secessionist forces in Kosovo began to regard the Alliance as a rather promising air force. With its exclusive reliance on airpower in March 1999 in response to Belgrade's brutal repression of both the KLA and harmless civilians, the Alliance essentially lived up to that perception.
Ultimately, the gradualism of the air campaign and the want of ground troops meant that NATO's actions failed to deliver either a psychological shock to Belgrade or protection to the beleaguered Kosovars. The military shortcomings of this approach have been discussed more expertly elsewhere and need not be reiterated here. But it is worthwhile pointing out that the implications of Kosovo for modern warfighting are closely related to the failure to meet the mission's declared humanitarian objectives. Operation Allied Force made a hash of the joint doctrine integral to both the American way of war developed over the 1990s and the multinational, multiservice Combined Joint Task Force concept for European security contingencies under discussion within NATO for almost as long. In retrospect two missing ingredients of Allied Force--namely a joint campaign and decisive force--would have accomplished far more for the Kosovars.
The greater damage of NATO's Kosovo misadventure is potentially to the very principle of intervention in the name of Wilsonian goals. Tony Smith, an eloquent advocate of robust Wilsonianism, has written that "there is no reason humanitarian concerns cannot be married to self-interested considerations when intervention occurs." The lesson of Kosovo, surely, is that he is right but also that intervention is likely to be effective and perceived as legitimate only when it is married to credible self-interest. The absence of an abiding Western interest in the future of Kosovo was reflected in the qualified nature of NATO's action at every level, from diplomacy to its restricted bombing.
This came out in a press conference given by General Klaus Naumann, Chairman of NATO's Military Committee, on 9 May 1999, wherein a succession of reporters asked why the NATO command conceded no need to change its approach to the war despite the fact that the air campaign had not stopped ethnic cleansing inside Kosovo. Naumann's answer dealt adroitly with the dilemma of defending a policy with which he was clearly uncomfortable but which reflected nothing so much as a shallowness of commitment among the member-states:
You are asking a moral question. I understand you fully and from a moral point of view I also hate to see this news, but on the other hand, you can only do what is achievable and what is acceptable by our nations in this Alliance. And for that reason I have to tell you once again that we have no reason at this point in time to change the strategy which is focused to some extent on the philosophy of our democracies that we should avoid casualties, we should avoid the loss of life. That is the basic point. You may be morally dissatisfied with that but that is how life is.The warring parties in Kosovo, certainly, could appreciate the fact of NATO's relative disinterestedness, but both understood further that the Alliance's Balkan policy, if it may be called such, was not neutral and never had been. Beginning with the initial stages of Yugoslavia's territorial disintegration, NATO has constituted an anti-Serb coalition whose diplomacy recognized with quite remarkable speed the sovereignty of Croatia and Slovenia, before becoming much more directly involved in deciding the terms of self-government for Bosnia-Herzegovina. The NATO states have thrown in their lot with Croats, Slovenes, and Kosovars against the Yugoslav Rump State of Serbia. Admittedly, this was not the intended outcome, but in substance it is what the sum of NATO's actions represent.
In order to marry Wilsonianism with self-interest, the Wilsonian ideal of enlarging the ambit of democracy has to be divorced from the bogus claim to disinterested neutrality. The jargon of conflict resolution rings hollow when those using it in the service of policy cannot explicitly connect professed ideals to an identifiable and credible self-interest. The Alliance has aided Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia in becoming sovereign entities; after what transpired in Kosovo between March and July 1999, it is difficult to see how Kosovo can be returned to Serbian sovereignty. In the face of a century's awful experience with ethno-nationalism in Europe, NATO finds itself in the business of helping to create ethnic nations out of a multi-ethnic federation. In retrospect it is hard to avoid the conclusion that the Alliance has since 1989 been much too frantic to redefine itself as a vehicle of conflict resolution. Operating in an international environment where an imminent military threat to the liberal democracies no longer exists, NATO has drawn in ad hoc fashion on Wilsonian principles to justify its innovations in intervention and peacekeeping. In the effort it has inadvertently put itself in the service of secessionism yet has not necessarily enlarged the ambit either of liberal democracy or genuine respect for basic human rights.
The most worrisome aspect of this fact is that many Balkan states are bereft of so many of the features of a political culture capable of sustaining democratic government and the rule of law. Of the Yugoslav successor states only Slovenia has an encouraging report card. Elsewhere NATO's humanitarian intervention may have the effect of furthering the political goals of secessionist movements whose leaders have no intention of respecting fundamental human rights. Because the question of NATO's presence in the Balkans is now water under the bridge, the Alliance's governments need to ask themselves whether they can in time make reasonably civil societies--forget about liberal democracy for now--out of the states in a region where the Alliance's troops represent the sole barrier to the return of murderous anarchy. What's more, that barrier is as imperfect as Britain's decades-long attempt to stand between Catholics and Protestants in Ulster. Since NATO and the United Nations assumed joint responsibility for Kosovo, an estimated 150,000 Serbs have left the province because of violent retribution by ethnic Albanians. Far from representing isolated and random acts of revenge, these numbers are thought to be driven by the coordinated efforts of extremists. Unless NATO governments genuinely believe they can extend the elected government and market capitalism of the Euro-Atlantic realm into Southeastern Europe and will accept an open-ended commitment to political trusteeship, it is easy to predict that their random reference to Wilsonian values can only unravel more than it knits up.
The hoary principle of national sovereignty sustains serious damage when an alliance of civilized states sets it aside in favor of the competing principle of human rights, as NATO did when it commenced air operations against Serbia. True, the principle of state sovereignty has lost a good deal of the prestige it enjoyed earlier in the history of the international system, but we have not replaced it with a principle of equal moral authority and practical political utility. Even if state sovereignty remains an organized hypocrisy, its great practical virtue is that it does organize.
For American alliance leadership this difference is critical. The United States and its allies are fundamentally status-quo powers insofar as their financial, commercial, and political interests require international stability. Yet the pursuit of Wilsonian goals internationally leads inevitably to radical change and occasionally violent upheaval, the outcome of which can be a net loss for fundamental human rights and democracy. Because it is the calling of American leadership to define what contemporary Wilsonianism means, it is doubly important that Washington not permit Wilson's legacy to be hijacked and redefined out of all coherence and utility to foreign policy by the dumbed-down commentary that today too frequently accompanies international crises. Unable to ignore appalling video images of human suffering, national governments have become reflexive to press imagery and inclined to regard military force in the name of human rights as an addition to their toolkit for short-term political and diplomatic contingencies that offer little of lasting value to international peace.
The success of NATO's air strikes against Serbia--if not in rescuing the Kosovars at least in driving the crisis from television screens--is likely to enhance this perception. Since the 1970s there has been a robust publishing business devoted entirely to the mounting evidence that Western publics trust their governments less and less. The prosecution of the Kosovo war, based as it was on the assumption that Western electorates possess only a limited attention span for international crises, testifies that those governments hold their publics in similarly low esteem. While such an attitude is not entirely unfounded, its application to political leadership in the dark arts of war is irresponsible in the extreme. The Alliance's airpower-only strategy in Kosovo was designed to vindicate the Wilsonian principle on the cheap, assuring the public that the war would introduce no difficult ruffles to their lives. Historic change does not happen this way. Moreover, an alliance under the spell of the human rights imperative runs a serious danger of viewing the requirements of regional peace and democracy in the abstract, utterly separated from the interests of its members. The same abstraction will encourage its members to articulate--and, worse still, to believe in--a formula for reconciliation and stability that ignores the lessons of history and is compelling only in the imagination of international relations theorists. The habit is a harmless enough exercise in a university seminar, but governments and their policymakers should stay clear of it. This applies above all to the political and military leadership of the United States.
The war in Kosovo underscored the indispensability of American leadership in some unfortunate ways. Anyone even casually familiar with the past decade's literature on future directions of the Atlantic Alliance will know how remarkable this is given the number of solemn declarations about the need for greater European self-reliance in defense and security. Additionally, there is a palpable and understandable impatience in Washington with continuing American troop deployments in neighborhoods where the United States has rich and capable allies who ought to be able to do more of the job. This impatience was most recently and symbolically expressed in the Senate's failed attempt to impose a timetable for withdrawal from Kosovo. In light of this impatience, it was clearly not in America's self-interest to wage war in Kosovo, formally in concert with its NATO allies, yet using airpower and advanced weaponry that only the United States possesses. The airpower-only approach deepened European dependence on the United States in a crisis that possibly could have been a catalyst for greater European initiative. As its stands, notes one of the most thoughtful promoters of European unity, Carl Bildt, the United States is "as much a solo player as ever."
A lower-tech alternative using even a preponderance of European ground troops might have come closer to meeting the humanitarian rescue challenge and made the Kosovo operation an appropriately more European affair. The Clinton Administration turned to airpower in order to accomplish two things. The first was to answer in a visibly forceful way the ethnic cleansing in Kosovo. The second was to avoid the political exposure of deploying ground troops. In the process the Administration gave the major European governments every excuse to abdicate on European responsibilities. While the Administration itself was guilty of excessively heroic rhetoric in justifying the Kosovo mission, European governments too invoked Wilsonian values with the language of swollen self-righteousness. So excessive were the claims that NATO had to act in the very name of humanity, yet so minimal the substantive interests of its member-states in Kosovo, that airpower and precision munitions alone had to redeem the Alliance's claim to noble purpose--an awful gamble on credibility. What is remarkable in contrasting NATO expansion in Northeastern Europe against its entanglement in Southeastern Europe is that sober words explained the former, where truly historic progress took place, while heroic bluster justified the latter, where NATO unintentionally abetted some of the ugliest sentiments of the European past. Whatever his faults, the peacemaker of 1919 deserved a better reading than this.
Conclusion: The Virtues of Imaginative Humility
Because words can be retracted while actions cannot, the Alliance has taken up under American leadership a burden of political trusteeship in Kosovo in addition to its commitments in Bosnia. It has in effect interrupted a civil war and regional power struggle which will likely resume in some form if and when NATO forces leave. What remains, therefore, is to make the best of a bad situation. In the present tense keeping the peace in Kosovo looks a lot like remaining there indefinitely. The vocation of peacekeeping will be more difficult and the prospects of civil society dim so long as NATO clings to the myth of neutrality and fails to declare openly that its mission is to meet and thwart any real and perceived threat to regional peace emanating from Belgrade. For the new Bush Administration step one should consist of establishing a clarity of purpose that is both humanitarian and credibly self-interested. Only the United States can lead the way by openly articulating a strategic vision of the future of the entire Balkan region. If such a vision includes a sovereign state of Kosovo, the Alliance that created it will have to commit to underwriting its security.
This is all very regrettable, since a good many substantive humanitarian deeds could have been accomplished without NATO going to war against Serbia. Certainly, the pious vocabulary of human rights should not have been used unless at some point the Alliance was willing to be as heroic as its words. There was no inherent virtue in seeking to sacrifice NATO soldiers for the lives of Kosovars, but in light of the mission as it was articulated there was an inherent moral imperative in being willing to risk their lives for the same. Shakespeare's Henry V maintains that "the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers," for "they purpose not their deaths when they purpose their services."
Still, the deployment of ground troops in a humanitarian cause raises the deeper issue of the unstated limits of the moral contract between soldier and state. If the prosecution of the Kosovo war testifies to the recognition of such limits, then it is indeed time to "reassess the moral equation at the basis of the intervention." Americans and their allies had better ask themselves not whether a case can be made for muscular Wilsonianism--surely it can in so many places--but rather whether they are up to its challenge. Kosovo does not return an encouraging answer. At the very least it is to be hoped that Kosovo sets no precedent and that in the future the Alliance will exercise more of what Edmund Burke called "imaginative humility" by claiming less and perhaps accomplishing more. If the democracies will abandon the human rights reflex and choose their interventions more opportunistically, looking at all times for the good wood of cultural and political circumstance that promises truly transformative possibilities, the service rendered to human rights is likely to be more substantial. Otherwise, it is an easy prediction that the number of humanitarian emergencies will outrun the will and resources of the democracies to act.
When the cause is just and interests are engaged, American leadership will have to ponder the virtues of unilateralism or working smaller coalitions-of-the-willing. The widely differing attitudes of NATO governments on the use of military force in situations such as Kosovo meant possibly that in March 1999 the Alliance could unite only on the strangest of lowest common denominators, namely to kill but not to die for human rights. Still greater divergence seems likely in the future. Witness Germany's continuing cuts to military manpower and defense spending, most recently dressed up as a radical reform of the Bundeswehr. Though the Schröder government would be quick to deny the charge, every action of the Kohl and Schröder governments over the past decade testifies to a determination to cut defense appropriations and avoid military deployments proportional to Germany's importance, punctuated by solemn declarations of Germany's unswerving loyalty to the Alliance. For solid historical reasons many of us welcome this order of priorities in a post-unification Germany. But a NATO that seeks unity on collective initiatives on German terms will find that in the future agreement on robust actions are even harder to come by than was the case with Kosovo.
To reiterate, this is a separate matter from the question as to whether it was ever prudent to intervene militarily in Kosovo in the name of Wilsonian principles. There is something hugely paradoxical about the present condition of Wilson's legacy to international relations. Wilson demolished the notion that a democracy could formulate foreign policy behind closed doors without routine reference to the fears and aspirations of its citizens. Yet today democratic governments lead only by following. They craft policy to the contradictory impulses of public opinion. This is more visibly true in the United States, because of the comprehensiveness of its democratic constitution relative to parliamentary regimes. Its consequences for the world are also more profound because of the indispensability of American power. A new administration in Washington that explains frankly to an intelligent public the burdens of a realistic and muscular Wilsonian diplomacy will simultaneously be truer to the spirit of the man and possibly achieve more of the substance of his challenge.
1. John Lukacs, "The End of the Twentieth Century," Harper's, January 1993, p. 41.
2. Woodrow Wilson, address to Joint Session of Congress, 8 January 1918.
3. Frank Ninkovich, The Wilsonian Century: U.S. Foreign Policy Since 1900 (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1999), pp. 288-89. See also Arthur Walworth, America's Moment, 1918: American Diplomacy at the End of World War I (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977), pp. 117-18; Arthur S. Link, The Higher Realism of Woodrow Wilson and Other Essays (Nashville: Vanderbilt Univ. Press, 1971), pp. 138-39; Cathal J. Nolan, "Woodrow Wilson, German Democracy, and World Order," in Shepherd of Democracy? America and Germany in the Twentieth Century, ed. Carl C. Hodge and Cathal J. Nolan (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1992), pp. 21-39.
4. Fareed Zakaria, "The Rise of Illiberal Democracy," Foreign Affairs, 76 (November-December 1997), 22-43.
5. Quoted in William Korey, The Promises We Keep (New York: St. Martin's, 1993), p. 416.
6. Quoted in David Yost, NATO Transformed: The Alliance's New Roles in International Security (Washington: United States Institute of Peace, 1998), p. 111.
7. See Nicole Jordan, The Popular Front and Central Europe: The Dilemmas of French Impotence, 1918-1940 ( New York: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1992); Zbigniew Brzezinski, The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and its Geostrategic Imperatives (New York: Basic Books, 1997), pp. 85-86.
8. Quoted by Angela E. Stent, Russia and Germany Reborn: Unification, the Soviet Collapse, and the New Europe (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1999), p. 217.
9. Jeffrey Smith, "A Year After the War, Kosovo Killing Goes On," The Washington Post, 12 June 2000, p. A01; David Fromkin, Kosovo Crossing: American Ideals Meet Reality on the Balkan Battlefield (New York: Free Press, 1999), p. 191.
10. For example Richard N. Haass, Intervention: The Use of American Military Force in the Post-Cold War World (Washington: Brookings, 1999), pp. 91-94, 173-74; Peter F. Herrly, "The Plight of Joint Doctrine After Kosovo," Joint Force Quarterly, No. 22 (Summer 1999), pp. 99-104.
11. Tony Smith, "Morality and the Use of Force in a Unipolar World: The `Wilsonian Moment'?" Ethics and International Affairs, 14 (2000), 20. See also his America's Mission: The United States and the World-Wide Struggle for Democracy in the Twentieth Century (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1994).
12. Transcript of press conference given by General Klaus Naumann, Chairman of the Military Committee, NATO Headquarters, 4 May 1999, internet, http://www.nato.int/docu/speech/1999/s990504c.htm.
13. Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 22 June 2000.
14. Stephen Krasner, Sovereignty: Organized Hypocrisy (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1999).
15. Alberto Coll, "Introduction American Power and Responsibility in a New Century," Ethics and International Affairs, 14 (2000), 5; John A. Gentry, "The Cancer of Human Rights," Washington Quarterly, 22 (Autumn 1999), 95-112.
16. Quoted in Simon Duke, The Elusive Quest for European Security: From EDC to CFSP (New York: St. Martin's, 2000), p. 234.
17. Martin Cook, "Immaculate War: Constraints on Humanitarian Intervention," Ethics and International Affairs, 14 (2000), 65.
Dr. Carl Cavanagh Hodge is professor of political science at Okanagan University College in British Columbia, Canada. He is widely published in history, comparative politics, and international relations in the United States and Europe. His books include Shepherd of Democracy? America and Germany in the Twentieth Century (1992), The Trammels of Tradition: Social Democracy in Britain, France, and Germany (1994), All of the People, All of the Time: American Government at the End of the Century (1998), and Redefining European Security (1999).
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Reviewed 15 February 2001. Please send comments or corrections to email@example.com