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ROUTLEDGE ADVANCES IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS AND GLOBAL POLITICS Rethinking Foreign Policy Edited by Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini Rethinking Foreign Policy This edited volume is a tribute to, and a debate with, the scholarship of Walter Carlsnaes and his contribution to the study of foreign policy in both its conceptualisation and application. This book probes the theoretical boundaries of foreign policy analysis, and questions orthodox understandings of the field. It examines the agency–structure debate, the question of how human decision making affects the norms and institutions of international interactions (and vice versa), and analyses how the study of foreign policy can be applied to the European Union as a supranational entity devoid of traditional statehood. Contributors offer an in-Â�depth discussion on the intricacies of studying foreign policy, and provide new perspectives on the standing of the European Union (EU) as a foreign policy entity. Rethinking Foreign Policy will be of interest to students and scholars of International Relations, Foreign Policy, Global Governance, EU Studies and the work of Walter Carlsnaes. Fredrik Bynander is Associate Professor at the Swedish National Defence College in Stockholm, Sweden and was, until recently, Head of Unit at the Prime Minister’s Office. Stefano Guzzini is Senior Researcher at the Danish Institute for International Studies in Copenhagen, Denmark, and Professor of Government at Uppsala Â�University, Sweden. Routledge advances in international relations and global politics â•‡â•‡ 1 Foreign Policy and Discourse Analysis France, Britain and Europe Henrik Larsen â•‡â•‡ 2 Agency, Structure and International Politics From ontology to empirical enquiry Gil Friedman and Harvey Starr â•‡â•‡ 3 The Political Economy of Regional Co-Â�operation in the Middle East Ali Carkoglu, Mine Eder and Kemal Kirisci â•‡â•‡ 4 Peace Maintenance The evolution of international political authority Jarat Chopra â•‡â•‡ 5 International Relations and Historical Sociology Breaking down boundaries Stephen Hobden â•‡â•‡ 8 Politics and Globalisation Knowledge, ethics and agency Martin Shaw â•‡â•‡ 9 History and International Relations Thomas W. Smith â•‡ 10 Idealism and Realism in International Relations Robert M. A. Crawford â•‡ 11 National and International Conflicts, 1945–1995 New empirical and theoretical approaches Frank Pfetsch and Christoph Rohloff â•‡ 12 Party Systems and Voter Alignments Revisited Edited by Lauri Karvonen and Stein Kuhnle â•‡â•‡ 6 Equivalence in Comparative Politics Edited by Jan W. van Deth â•‡ 13 Ethics, Justice and International Relations Constructing an international community Peter Sutch â•‡â•‡ 7 The Politics of Central Banks Robert Elgie and Helen Thompson â•‡ 14 Capturing Globalization Edited by James H. Mittelman and Norani Othman â•‡ 15 Uncertain Europe Building a new European security order? Edited by Martin A. Smith and Graham Timmins â•‡ 16 Power, Postcolonialism and International Relations Reading race, gender and class Edited by Geeta Chowdhry and Sheila Nair â•‡ 17 Constituting Human Rights Global civil society and the society of democratic states Mervyn Frost â•‡ 18 US Economic Statecraft for Survival 1933–1991 Of sanctions, embargoes and economic warfare Alan P. Dobson â•‡ 19 The EU and NATO Enlargement Richard McAllister and Roland Dannreuther â•‡ 20 Spatializing International Politics Analysing activism on the internet Jayne Rodgers â•‡ 21 Ethnonationalism in the Contemporary World Walker Connor and the study of nationalism Edited by Daniele Conversi â•‡ 22 Meaning and International Relations Edited by Peter Mandaville and Andrew Williams â•‡ 23 Political Loyalty and the Nation-Â�State Edited by Michael Waller and Andrew Linklater â•‡ 24 Russian Foreign Policy and the CIS Theories, debates and actions Nicole J. Jackson â•‡ 25 Asia and Europe Development and different dimensions of ASEM Yeo Lay Hwee â•‡ 26 Global Instability and Strategic Crisis Neville Brown â•‡ 27 Africa in International Politics External involvement on the continent Edited by Ian Taylor and Paul Williams â•‡ 28 Global Governmentality Governing international spaces Edited by Wendy Larner and William Walters â•‡ 29 Political Learning and Citizenship Education Under Conflict The political socialization of Israeli and Palestinian youngsters Orit Ichilov â•‡ 30 Gender and Civil Society Transcending boundaries Edited by Jude Howell and Diane Mulligan â•‡ 31 State Crises, Globalisation and National Movements in North-Â�East Africa The Horn’s dilemma Edited by Asafa Jalata â•‡ 39 The International Criminal Court A global civil society achievement Marlies Glasius â•‡ 32 Diplomacy and Developing Nations Post-Â�cold war foreign policy-Â� making structures and processes Edited by Justin Robertson and Maurice A. East â•‡ 40 A Human Security Doctrine for Europe Project, principles, practicalities Edited by Marlies Glasius and Mary Kaldor â•‡ 33 Autonomy, Self-Â�governance and Conflict Resolution Innovative approaches to institutional design in divided societies Edited by Marc Weller and Stefan Wolff â•‡ 34 Mediating International Crises Jonathan Wilkenfeld, Kathleen J. Young, David M. Quinn and Victor Asal â•‡ 35 Postcolonial Politics, the Internet and Everyday Life Pacific traversals online M. I. Franklin â•‡ 36 Reconstituting the Global Liberal Order Legitimacy and regulation Kanishka Jayasuriya â•‡ 37 International Relations, Security and Jeremy Bentham Gunhild Hoogensen â•‡ 38 Interregionalism and International Relations Edited by Heiner Hänggi, Ralf Roloff and Jürgen Rüland â•‡ 41 The History and Politics of UN Security Council Reform Dimitris Bourantonis â•‡ 42 Russia and NATO Since 1991 From cold war through cold peace to partnership? Martin A. Smith â•‡ 43 The Politics of Protection Sites of insecurity and political agency Edited by Jef Huysmans, Andrew Dobson and Raia Prokhovnik â•‡ 44 International Relations in Europe Traditions, perspectives and destinations Edited by Knud Erik Jørgensen and Tonny Brems Knudsen â•‡ 45 The Empire of Security and the Safety of the People Edited by William Bain â•‡ 46 Globalization and Religious Nationalism in India The search for ontological security Catrina Kinnvall â•‡ 47 Culture and International Relations Narratives, natives and tourists Julie Reeves â•‡ 55 Developing Countries and Global Trade Negotiations Edited by Larry Crump and S. Javed Maswood â•‡ 48 Global Civil Society Contested futures Edited by Gideon Baker and David Chandler â•‡ 56 Civil Society, Religion and Global Governance Paradigms of power and persuasion Edited by Helen James â•‡ 49 Rethinking Ethical Foreign Policy Pitfalls, possibilities and paradoxes Edited by David Chandler and Volker Heins â•‡ 50 International Cooperation and Arctic Governance Regime effectiveness and northern region building Edited by Olav Schram Stokke and Geir Hønneland â•‡ 51 Human Security Concepts and implications Shahrbanou Tadjbakhsh and Anuradha Chenoy â•‡ 52 International Relations and Security in the Digital Age Edited by Johan Eriksson and Giampiero Giacomello â•‡ 53 State-Â�Building Theory and practice Edited by Aidan Hehir and Neil Robinson â•‡ 54 Violence and Non-Â�Violence in Africa Edited by Pal Ahluwalia, Louise Bethlehem and Ruth Ginio â•‡ 57 War, Peace and Hegemony in a Globalized World The changing balance of power in the 21st century Edited by Chandra Chari â•‡ 58 Eco nomic Globalisation as Religious War Tragic convergence Michael McKinley â•‡ 59 Globalization, Prostitution and Sex-Â�trafficking Corporeal politics Elina Penttinen â•‡ 60 Peacebuilding Women in international perspective Elisabeth Porter â•‡ 61 Ethics, Liberalism and Realism in International Relations Mark D. Gismondi â•‡ 62 Law and Legalization in Transnational Relations Edited by Christian Brütsch and Dirk Lehmkuhl â•‡ 63 Fighting Terrorism and Drugs Europe and international police cooperation Jörg Friedrichs â•‡ 64 Identity Politics in the Age of Genocide The holocaust and historical representation David B. MacDonald â•‡ 65 Globalisation, Public Opinion and the State Western Europe and East and Southeast Asia Edited by Takashi Inoguchi and Ian Marsh â•‡ 66 Urbicide The politics of urban destruction Martin Coward â•‡ 67 Transnational Activism in the UN and the EU A comparative study Jutta Joachim and Birgit Locher â•‡ 68 Gender Inclusive Essays on violence, men and feminist international relations Adam Jones â•‡ 69 Capitalism, Democracy and the Prevention of War and Poverty Edited by Peter Graeff and Guido Mehlkop â•‡ 70 Environmental Change and Foreign Policy Theory and practice Edited by Paul G. Harris â•‡ 71 Climate Change and Foreign Policy Case studies from East to West Edited by Paul G. Harris â•‡ 72 Securitizations of Citizenship Edited by Peter Nyers â•‡ 73 The Power of Ideology From the Roman Empire to Al-Â�Qaeda Alex Roberto Hybel â•‡ 74 The Securitization of Humanitarian Migration Digging moats and sinking boats Scott D. Watson â•‡ 75 Mediation in the Asia-Â�Pacific Region Transforming conflicts and building peace Edited by Dale Bagshaw and Elisabeth Porter â•‡ 76 United Nations Reform Heading North or South? Spencer Zifcak â•‡ 77 New Norms and Knowledge in World Politics Protecting people, intellectual property and the environment Preslava Stoeva â•‡ 78 Power, Resistance and Conflict in the Contemporary World Social movements, networks and hierarchies Athina Karatzogianni and Andrew Robinson â•‡ 79 World-Â�Regional Social Policy and Global Governance New research and policy agendas in Africa, Asia, Europe and Latin America Edited by Bob Deacon, Maria Cristina Macovei, Luk Van Langenhove and Nicola Yeates â•‡ 80 International Relations Theory and Philosophy Interpretive dialogues Edited by Cerwyn Moore and Chris Farrands â•‡ 81 Superpower Rivalry and Conflict The long shadow of the Cold War on the twenty-Â�first century Edited by Chandra Chari â•‡ 82 Coping and Conformity in World Politics Hugh C. Dyer â•‡ 83 Defining and Defying Organized Crime Discourse, perception and reality Edited by Felia Allum, Francesca Longo, Daniela Irrera and Panos A. Kostakos â•‡ 88 Human Security, Law and the Prevention of Terrorism Andrej Zwitter â•‡ 89 Multilayered Migration Governance The promise of partnership Edited by Rahel Kunz, Sandra Lavenex and Marion Panizzon â•‡ 90 Role Theory in International Relations Approaches and analyses Edited by Sebastian Harnisch, Cornelia Frank & Hanns W. Maull â•‡ 91 Issue Salience in International Relations Edited by Kai Oppermann and Henrike Viehrig â•‡ 84 Federalism in Asia India, Pakistan and Malaysia Harihar Bhattacharyya â•‡ 92 Corporate Risk and National Security Redefined Karen Lund Petersen â•‡ 85 The World Bank and HIV/ AIDS Setting a global agenda Sophie Harman â•‡ 93 Interrogating Democracy in World Politics Edited by Joe Hoover, Meera Sabaratnam and Laust Schouenborg â•‡ 86 The “War on Terror” and the Growth of Executive Power? A comparative analysis Edited by John E. Owens and Riccardo Pelizzo â•‡ 87 The Contested Politics of Mobility Borderzones and irregularity Edited by Vicki Squires â•‡ 94 Globalizing Resistance against War Theories of resistance and the new anti-Â�war movement Tiina Seppälä â•‡ 95 The Politics of Self-Â� Determination Beyond the decolonisation process Kristina Roepstorff â•‡ 96 Sovereignty and the Responsibility to Protect The power of norms and the norms of the powerful Theresa Reinold â•‡ 99 Genocide, Ethnonationalism, and the United Nations Exploring the causes of mass killing since 1945 Hannibal Travis â•‡ 97 Anglo-Â�American Relations Contemporary perspectives Edited by Alan P. Dobson and Steve Marsh 100 Caribbean Sovereignty, Development and Democracy in an Age of Globalization Edited by Linden Lewis â•‡ 98 The Emerging Politics of Antarctica Edited by Anne-Â�Marie Brady 101 Rethinking Foreign Policy Edited by Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini Rethinking Foreign Policy Edited by Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini First published 2013 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business. © 2013 Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors for their contribution. The right of Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Rethinking foreign policy / [edited by] Fredrik Bynander, Stefano Guzzini. p. cm. – (Routledge advances in international relations and global politics) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. European Union countries–Foreign relations. 2. Europe–Foreign relations–1989– 3. Carlsnaes, Walter. I. Bynander, Fredrik. II. Guzzini, Stefano. D2010.R48 2013 341.242'2–dc23 2012026854 ISBN: 978-0-415-63343-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-203-07362-9 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear Contents Contributors General preface xiii xvii F r e dri k B y n a nd e r a nd S t e f a no G u z z ini Abbreviations Part I xxii Walter Carlsnaesâ•›.â•›.â•›. 1 â•‡ 1 In the beginning was conceptualisation 3 S t e f a no G u z z ini â•‡ 2 Coming to terms with the ‘Other’: towards IR going global 15 A . J . R . G room Part II The agency–structure problemâ•›.â•›.â•›. 29 â•‡ 3 Agency, structure, international relations and foreign policy 31 C o l in W ig h t â•‡ 4 Agency, structures and time: from atemporal ontologies to explicit geo-Â�historical hypotheses and anticipation of global democracy 45 H e i k k i P a tom ä k i â•‡ 5 Theories, truisms and tools in international relations 59 K jell G oldmann â•‡ 6 The ritual/performance problem in foreign policy analysis: European diplomats at the Chinese court Eri k R ingm a r 68 xiiâ•‡â•‡ Contents â•‡ 7 Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practices 81 M agnus E kengren â•‡ 8 Agents, structures and international regime significance 95 C harles F . P arker Part III .â•›.â•›.â•›and the study of foreign policy 107 9 109 Does Europe have foreign policy traditions? Kn u d Eri k J ø rg e ns e n 10 A foreign policy without a state? Accounting for the CFSP 123 H elene S jursen 11 EU foreign policy: ‘High politics’, low impact – and vice versa? 137 J anne H aaland M atlary 12 The EU foreign and security policy: High expectations, low capabilities? 150 P e rni l l e R i e k e r 13 Ideas in foreign policy decision making: The invasion of Iraq 163 F r e dri k B y n a nd e r 14 Foreign policy analysis and the governance turn 176 T h om a s R iss e 15 Apostleship: A South African national role conception 186 D eon G eldenhuys PART IV Select publication list Bibliography 203 205 W alter C arlsnaes Index 207 Contributors Fredrik Bynander had Walter Carlsnaes as supervisor for his doctoral dissertation, which he defended at Uppsala University in 2003. Since then he has published on European security, crisis management and leadership succession effects in journals such as Political Psychology, Public Administration and Government & Opposition. Currently, Bynander divides his time between an Associate Professorship at the Swedish National Defence College, where he is the Research Director for CRISMART, and a position as special adviser at the Swedish Prime Minister’s Office. Stefano Guzzini is Senior Researcher at the Danish Institute for International Studies, Copenhagen, and Professor at Uppsala University, Sweden. He previously held tenured or guest professor positions at the Central European University (Budapest), Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, Bremen International Graduate School for Social Science, and Pontifícia Universidade Católica do Rio de Janeiro (PUC-Rio). Recent and forthcoming publications include Â�Foreign Policy Analysis, 5 vols. (Sage, 2011, co-edited with Walter Carlsnaes), The Diffusion of Power in Global Governance: International Political Economy meets Foucault (Palgrave Macmillan, 2012, co-edited with Iver Neumann), The Return of Geopolitics in Europe? Social Mechanisms and Foreign Policy Identity Crises (Cambridge University Press, 2013), and Power, Realism and Constructivism (Routledge, 2013). Magnus Ekengren is Associate Professor, Director of the Programme for European Security Research and Co-Â�director of the international research programme Building Societal Security in Europe at the Swedish National Defence College. He is a former Swedish diplomat and was previously Deputy Director at the Policy Planning Unit of the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs. He has served at the Political and the European Union Department of the Ministry and handled issues related to EU enlargement and institutional reform and the Common Foreign and Security Policy. Ekengren has worked at the European Commission and been posted at the Swedish representation to the Council of Europe, Strasbourg. He has been Visiting Professor at the Munk School of Global Affairs, University of Toronto. His recent publications include an article on transboundary threats and new forms xivâ•‡â•‡ Contributors of EU security co-Â�operation (European Security) and the book The Time of European Governance (Manchester University Press, 2002). His latest books are called The Politics of Security Sector Reform – Challenges and Opportunities for the EU’s Global Role (Ashgate, 2011) and The EU as Crisis Manager – Patterns and Prospects (Cambridge University Press, 2013). Deon Geldenhuys is Professor of Politics at the University of Johannesburg, South Africa. Focusing on international relations, he has published several books dealing with non-Â�conformist state behaviour. Kjell Goldmann has been Professor of Political Science at Stockholm University since 1978 and is now emeritus. He was Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences 1986–1996. Visiting appointments include those at Harvard University, Princeton University, Wissenschaftszentrum Berlin, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, University of British Columbia and McGill University. He is a Member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences and the Royal Swedish Academy of War Sciences. He is the author of the main chapter on InterÂ� national Relations in A New Handbook of Political Science (1996). Among his books in English are The Logic of Internationalism (Routledge, 1994), Transforming the European Nation-State: Dynamics of Internationalization (Sage, 2001), and Nationalism and Internationalism in the Post-Cold War Era (Routledge, 2000, co-edited with Ulf Hannerz and Charles Westin). A.J.R. Groom is Emeritus Professor of International Relations at the University of Kent. He teaches regular courses at Kent, Canterbury Christ Church University, Sciences-Â�Po Paris, Université Libre de Bruxelles and the Diplomatische Akademie Wien. He has published 16 volumes and over 160 articles and chapters in the fields of IR theory, Conflict and Strategic Studies, International Organisation and European International Relations as well as founding two journals – the European Journal of International Relations and Global Society, the latter of which he has also been the Editor. He has been on the ECPR Executive, Chairman of BISA, Vice President of ISA, Board member of ACUNS, Chair of the Scientific Council of the Flemish Peace Institute as well as Executive Secretary of WISC, and founder and Chairman of SGIR. Knud Erik Jørgensen is Professor in the Department of Political Science at Aarhus University. He has been a visiting fellow at Chatham House in London, at the European University Institute in Florence and at the University of Toronto. He is the former editor of the journal Cooperation and Conflict and editor/co-Â�editor of Reflective Approaches to European Governance (Macmillan, 1997); European Approaches to Crisis Management (Kluwer, 1997); The Social Construction of Europe (Sage, 2001, with Thomas Christiansen and Antje Wiener); Constructing International Relations (ME Sharpe, 2001, with Karin M. Fierke); International Relations in Europe. Traditions, Perspectives and Destinations (Routledge, 2006, with Tonny B. Knudsen); Handbook of European Union Politics (Sage, 2007, with Mark Pollack and Ben Rosamond); The European Union and International Organizations Contributorsâ•‡â•‡ xv (Routledge, 2009); and a new textbook, International Relations Theory: A New Introduction (Palgrave, 2010). Janne Haaland Matlary is Professor and Director of International Studies at the Department of Political Science, University of Oslo, and at the Norwegian Defence University College. Recent publications include European Union Security Dynamics: In the New National Interest (Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, forthcoming paperback 2013), NATO: The Power of Partnerships (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011, editor and author), and NATO’s European Allies: Military Capacity and Political Will (Palgrave Macmillan, forthcoming January 2013, editor and author). Charles F. Parker is Associate Professor of Political Science at the Department of Government, Uppsala University. His research has focused on international and EU climate change politics, the impact of international institutions, international regime theory, and the origins and consequences of the warning– response problem. His work has appeared in journals such as the Journal of Common Market Studies, Political Psychology, Global Environmental Politics, Foreign Policy Analysis, Public Administration, Cooperation and Conflict and the Journal of Contingencies and Crisis Management. Heikki Patomäki is a Professor of World Politics at the University of Helsinki, Finland. His research interests include philosophy and methodology of social sciences, peace research, global political economy, political theory of global justice and democracy and global futures. Patomäki’s papers have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. His recent books include Democratising Globalisation: The Leverage of the Tobin Tax (Zed Books, 2001), After International Relations: Critical Realism and the (Re)Construction of World Politics (Routledge, 2002), A Possible World: Democratic Transformation of Global Institutions (with Teivo Teivainen, Zed Books, 2004), The Political Economy of Global Security: War, Future Crises and Changes in Global Governance (Routledge, 2008), and The Great Eurozone Disaster: From Crisis to Global New Deal (Zed Books, 2013). Pernille Rieker is a Senior Researcher at the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI). She holds a doctoral degree from the University of Oslo (2004). Her dissertation, The Europeanization of National Security Identity: The EU and the Changing Security Identities of the Nordic States, was published by Routledge in 2006. Rieker has also published several articles and book chapters about European, Nordic and French security policy. Erik Ringmar is Zhi Yuan Chair Professor of International Relations at Shanghai Jiaotong University, Shanghai, China PRC. He graduated with a PhD in political science from Yale University and for 12 years he taught courses in comparative politics at the London School of Economics and Political Science. He is the author of five books and some 30 articles. He is a faculty xviâ•‡â•‡ Contributors fellow at the Center for Cultural Sociology, Yale University. His next book will deal with boredom and war. Thomas Risse is Professor of International Politics at the Otto Suhr Institute for Political Science, Freie Universität Berlin. He co-Â�directs the Collaborative Research Center ‘Governance in Areas of Limited Statehood’ at the Freie Universität Berlin and the Research College ‘The Transformative Power of Europe’, both funded by the German Research Foundation. He has taught at the European University Institute, Florence, Italy, at the University of Konstanz, as well as Harvard, Stanford, Yale and Cornell Universities, and the University of Wyoming. His most recent publications include A Community of Europeans? Transnational Identities and Public Spheres (Cornell University Press, 2010), Governance without a State? Policies and Politics in Areas of Limited Statehood (Columbia University Press, 2011) and Handbook of International Relations, 2nd edition (co-edited with Walter Carlsnaes and Beth Simmons: Sage, 2013). Helene Sjursen is a Research Professor at ARENA – Centre for European Studies at the University of Oslo. Amongst her publications are ‘The EU as a “normative” power: How can this be?’ Journal of European Public Policy (2006); Enlargement and the Nature of the Euro-Â�polity (Routledge, 2006); Contemporary European Foreign Policy (co-Â�edited with Walter Carlsnaes and Brian White, Sage, 2004); ‘The EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy: The quest for democracy’ Journal of European Public Policy 18(8) 2011, guest editor. Colin Wight is Professor of International Relations at the Department of Politics, University of Exeter and Editor in Chief of the European Journal of International Relations. His research focuses on the relationships between International Relations Theory, Social Theory, and the Philosophy of Social Science. He has published in Millennium, International Studies Quarterly, Political Studies, European Journal of International Relations, Review of International Studies and Philosophy of the Social Sciences. His book, Agents, Structures and International Relations: Politics as Ontology, was published by Cambridge University Press in 2006. He is currently researching the role played by the ‘idea’ of science in the development of political science as an academic discipline. General preface Fredrik Bynander and Stefano Guzzini This anthology on the study of foreign policy is inspired by the work of Walter Carlsnaes, Professor of Government at Uppsala University and longstanding contributor to core theoretical debates in international relations and foreign policy analysis. The authors are colleagues and friends of Walter who did not just gather for a traditional Festschrift in his honour, but wanted to make a more coordinated contribution to the topics closest to his heart. In so doing, we either engaged in a dialogue directly with his work or picked one of his favourite issues for our analysis. There are certainly aspects of his scholarship that perhaps made our endeavour difficult: its impressive theoretical scope and depth, its polemic qualities for the debates that have been engaged, and the complexity of the issues broached. Yet the clarity of argument and the acute sense of relevance that you get from reading his work make it easy to interact with and the room for dialogue considerable. In conceiving this volume, we decided to focus on the core of Walter’s contribution, the study of foreign policy1 – but in the particular way he conceived of it, with an interpretivist theory of action at its heart. For, despite having had most of his early experiences in South Africa, and having received much of his collegiate education in the United States, Walter is at heart a thinker in a more classical European tradition. He has resisted the calls for instant answers residing in unreflecting rationalism or behaviouralism. In its stead, he favours an altogether nuanced approach to the subject of international relations and foreign policy. Walter’s is a more humanist tradition, and his world is succinctly populated by ideas, governed by the interplay between actors, dispositions and structures, and only understandable through a comprehensive perspective. This principled position may not have earned him any shortcuts into the scholarly walk of fame, but they guarantee that his relevance will be above and beyond yesterday’s topic du jour. Foreign policy has always been in the foreground of Walter Carlsnaes’ work, as an object of study from a comparative perspective, and with considerable attention to ideational reasons of foreign policy actions. Ideology, he argues, works primarily through intentional psychological (as opposed to dispositional) processes and he thus takes issue with behaviourist and structuralist explanations xviiiâ•‡â•‡ General Preface of foreign policy actions. Individuals as decision makers are, in Carlsnaes’ world not merely ‘rational actors’, but meaning-Â�givers. The trappings of rational choice explanations, therefore, are not sufficient for providing a theoretical guide to political action. The typical rational choice causation is teleological (meaning a simple statement of the intention-Â�action relationship) and thus ignorant of underlying reasons for political behaviour. Carlsnaes has thus carved a niche for an interpretivist science of political action as reasoned choice – informed by ideas – in a time when the ‘constructivist turn’ in international relations was yet to come. Another theme that became increasingly important in Carlsnaes’ scholarship is the standing of the European Union in foreign policy and as a foreign policy actor. In European Foreign Policy: The EC and Changing Perspectives in Europe, a volume co-Â�edited with Steve Smith, he helped usher in European foreign policy as a major sub-Â�discipline of the field. The debate that the two editors decided to use to encapsulate their book was the agency–structure debate, and it is fair to say that this exchange of ideas between the co-Â�editors has come to frame a longstanding and important debate in the study of international cooperation as will be illustrated by several of the contributions to the present volume. As the founding editor for the European Journal of International Relations, Carlsnaes encouraged scholarship that took these metatheoretical issues seriously. The journal became a clearing-Â�house of critical theory and constructivist approaches. The authors in this volume have been fully committed to engage with these important topics: how to conceive of a theory of political action and how that impacts the study of foreign policy? The first two chapters give a more general overview of Carlsnaes’ contribution, be it his intellectual scholarship and his role in the development of IR as a discipline. Stefano Guzzini’s chapter deals with the importance of conceptualisation for the analytical use of theory, and the troubling back seat this endeavour has taken to operationalisation and a rush to arrive at a ‘clean scientific language’. Guzzini argues that Carlsnaes’ early engagement with conceptual analysis, and with the concept of ideology, is a necessary ingredient for understanding his theory of political action and study of foreign policy. In so doing, the chapter problematises the co-Â�dependence of theory and concept, as does Carlsnaes, and its repercussions for the study of foreign policy. A.J.R. Groom takes a hard look at the sociological and political underpinnings of international relations and foreign policy as its study is expanding across borders beyond the habitual western ‘zone of comfort’. This process is one of engaging with the Other, and unveils the Westphalian system as a means of exclusion, which has come to distinguish also the social sciences. In this light, Groom points to the significance of, as well as Carlsnaes’ contribution to, the professionalisation and the Europeanisation of International Relations. If IR is indeed to go global, so Groom argues, this development is crucial for the discipline to develop with full engagement with the Other. Colin Wight, in his chapter, scrutinises the problems attached with the often haphazard and unreflecting treatment of agents and structures as ‘mutually General Prefaceâ•‡â•‡ xix Â� constitutive’. As a grand statement of ontological fact, this is a position that meets few objections, but as a point of departure for empirical analysis, few scholars accept the implications for the constraints on ‘business as usual’ that they are. The chapter follows Carlsnaes’ reintroduction of time to the agent– structure problem and the three substantial uses which he makes of the debate: as a methodological device, as an organising instrument for the analysis of foreign policy, and as a mode of understanding the enduring interrelationship between IR and foreign policy. Heikki Patomäki engages in the same debate as Wight: the temporality of agency and structure, and adds to the analysis the geo-Â� historical conditions of increasingly complex societies that have given rise to effective agency in this sense. Processes of collective learning are changing the fabric of international relations, and developing geo-Â�historical conditions are thus indicative of new forms of global-Â�democratic interaction. Kjell Goldmann offers a scathing criticism against structural theories of power as statements of the obvious, and which are wholly unable to explain change in the international system. The longstanding and outsized preoccupation of the field with these theories is problematic for IR, and Goldmann suggests that ways out of this monocausal thinking needs to be developed. He offers two such escape routes: ideology and identity. Erik Ringmar’s chapter is an observation of the role of culture in international relations. He uses as his starting point the reaction of nineteenth-Â�century Europeans to the Chinese practice of koutou, the ritual of subordination by a full-Â�length prostration before the throne of the Chinese emperor. The ritual was offensive to most Europeans, but there were considerable utilitarian reasons for them to swallow their pride and go through with the humiliating procedure. Ringmar shows how national cultural traits are necessary in order to understand the choice of delegates from these European courts whether ‘to koutou or not to koutou’. Magnus Ekengren develops a Carlsnaesian agency–structure approach to European Union foreign policy that takes issue with the prevailing realist conception of the national interest of the member states as determinant of EU foreign policy. Ekengren argues the need for a ‘theory of practice’ concerning EU as an actor and an open-Â�ended and empirically guided approach to the importance of agency in IR in general and to the EU in particular. Charles Parker takes stock of international regime theory and its conceptualisation of agency–structure. He argues that the poor attention paid to this dimension of IR is causing regime theory to under-Â�perform on some of its self-Â�professed core tasks. Parker discusses the agency of international organisations as purposive but circumscribed, and the regime as superordinate of the organisation. Regimes are social institutions that enable and constrain the interaction between actors by favouring ‘norm-Â�directed behaviour’ and shaping their interests and behaviour. In order to understand and evaluate regime significance, the agency–structure dynamic needs to better inform the conceptualisation of regime theory and its analysis of regime compliance. Knud-Â�Erik Jørgensen explores the major European foreign policy traditions as a potential unifying factor in devising a more or less Common Foreign and xxâ•‡â•‡ General Preface Security Policy. Jørgensen puts serious emphasis on horizontal relationships and how they enable or constrain state actors, thus avoiding the policy-Â�oriented and case dependent grounds for inference that is currently dominating the field. He opens up for an ontology of the politics of foreign policy across all EU member states. Helene Sjursen addresses the EU’s much debated ‘normative power’ and, true to the themes of the volume, does so by re-Â�examining the concept as such. Her suspicion is that there is a core to the argument that EU foreign and security policy is different and does have a normative or ethical component that should not be ignored. But due to poor conceptualisation, its proponents are running the risk of having their baby thrown out with the bathwater of naïveté or cloaked imperialism. Sjursen proposes the establishment of an empirical research agenda that can see the normative aspect as one constituent part of the emergence of Europe as a foreign policy actor. Janne Haaland Matlary has a distinctly different approach to the EU as a foreign policy actor. She describes, from her realist outlook, a political entity with a dramatic internal asymmetry to its scope and tools of political power. By charting the choppy waters of EU capacities and constraints, Matlary arrives at a blueprint of the impact that the EU can muster in international relations. Pernille Rieker continues the debate on EU capacities by striking a more positive tone in that – when seen from a multi-Â�level governance perspective – the EU’s powers are indeed mutually reinforcing. The dynamic interplay that has evolved between the EU’s processes of integration and security is crucial for us to understand what kind of actor the EU is, and correspondingly, what it can do. A combination of a security community perspective and a multi-Â�level governance perspective is crucial, she argues, for properly analysing this aspect of EU politics. Fredrik Bynander discusses the problem of dealing with foreign policy value conflicts under tense political conditions. How do ideas and values inform foreign policy in times of uncertainty and high stakes? Using the British and American decisions to justify an invasion of Iraq on the grounds of the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, the chapter discusses how ideas inform the internal deliberations over choice and the assessment of international repercussions of alternative action. A prevailing finding is that ideas are not necessarily simple ‘roadmaps’ when material interest offers little guidance, or ‘stable equilibria’ are unattainable, but can be forceful harbingers for foreign policy action in their own right and typically carry strong causal beliefs with their followers. Thomas Risse takes on the importance of the governance perspective for international relations and its repercussions for the agency–structure debate. He argues that governance holds an inherent compatibility with a sophisticated understanding of the mutual constitution of agents and structures. Risse notes the real possibility that the governance research agenda uncovers a decreasing exclusivity of the state in foreign policy analysis and the rise of non-Â�state actors, which in turn opens up for new research questions that are not solely concerned with hierarchical modes of steering. With Deon Geldenhuys’ final chapter, we return to Carlsnaes’ youth and to another of his favourite topics: South African foreign policy. Geldenhuys General Prefaceâ•‡â•‡ xxi Â� portrays the ‘new’ South African foreign policy as one guided by a national role conception as ‘the apostle’, initially pursuing a policy exclusively centred around the promotion of universal human rights and democracy. In South Africa’s dealings with Zimbabwe, Sudan, Equatorial Guinea, and Myanmar, he notes the evolution of this strong principle, and how the African National Congress (ANC) government has been forced to compromise between the dogmatic early ambitions and with what is feasible in a complex regional neighbourhood, thus sometimes being muted in spreading the gospel by other interests, low probabilities for success, or preoccupation with other pressing needs. The volume has thus followed Carlsnaes’ footpath, from the early conceptual work to his theory of action and his study of foreign policy. We have been privileged to accompany him on different parts of this journey and offer this book to return the favour. Note 1 An earlier version of this Festschrift or Vennerbok (the golden book), offered to him at his day of retirement from Uppsala University, included more chapters in Carlsnaes’ honour. Abbreviations ANC ASP AU BBC BISA CESDP CFSP CIA COIN COSI CSDP CWC DG DIRCO DPA EADRCC ECHO ECPR EEAS EJIR ENP EP EPC ESS EU EUISS FPA IAEA ICANN ICC IGOs INGOs African National Congress The Agent-Â�Structure Problem African Union British Broadcasting British International Studies Association Common European Security and Defense Policy Common Foreign and Security Policy Central Intelligence Agency Counter-Â�Insurgency Operation EU Internal Security Committee Common Security and Defence Policy Chemical Weapons Control Regime Directorate General (EU) Department of International Relations and Cooperation (South Africa) Darfur Peace Agreement NATO Euro-Â�Atlantic Disaster Response Coordination Centre European Community Humanitarian Aid department European Consortium for Political Research European External Action Service European Journal of International Relations European Neighborhood Policy European Parliament European Political Cooperation European Security Strategy European Union EU Institute for Security Studies Foreign Policy Analysis International Atomic Energy Agency The Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Number International Criminal Court IntergovernÂ�mentÂ�al OrganÂ�izations International Non-governÂ�mental Organizations Abbreviationsâ•‡â•‡ xxiii IO International Organization IR International Relations ISA International Studies Association ISAF International Security Assistance Force JAIR Japan Association of International Relations JEM Justice and Equality Movement (Sudan) JIC Joint Intelligence Committee KISAKorea International Studies Association LSE London School of Economics and Political Science MI6 (SIS) Secret Intelligence Service, UK Foreign Intelligence Organization MICEU Monitoring and Information Center MoD Ministry of Defence NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization NGO Non-Â�Governmental OrganizaÂ�tions NLD National League for Democracy (Myanmar) NPT Non-Â�Proliferation Treaty OPCW Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons OSCE Organization for Security and Co-Â�operation in Europe PPPs Public Private Partnerships SADC Southern African Development Community SLM Sudan Liberation Movement TMSA Transformational Model of Social Activity UN United Nations UNDAC UN Disaster Assessment and Coordination UNHCR United Nations High Commissioner on Human Rights UN-Â�OCHAUnited Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs UNSC United Nations Security Council UNSCOM United Nations Special Commission USAIDUnited States Agency for International Development VOC The Dutch East-Â�India Company WISC World International Studies Committee WMDs Weapons of Mass Destruction WTO World Trade Organization ZANUZimbabwe African National Union Part I Walter Carlsnaesâ•›.â•›.â•›. 1 In the beginning was conceptualisation Stefano Guzzini Conceptual analysis never had it easy in International Relations. Annoyed by the continuous need to defend such analysis – ‘it is not mere semantics’ (leaving aside for the moment what this charge may precisely mean) – David Baldwin (1979, 1980) bitterly and repeatedly complained about the systematic neglect of the central role such analysis plays in the scientific enterprise. It seemed so self-Â� evident, that being clear about the meaning of concepts would enhance and indeed ensure any meaningful scientific communication to start with. Looking at how concepts fitted into frameworks of analyses and theories would moreover be fundamental for specifying the very building blocks of, and causal links in our explanations. Not basing one’s analysis on a careful conceptual discussion ran the risk of tautologies within the explanatory frameworks. Such a prior conceptual check was crucial to avoid the ‘garbage in – garbage out’ of empirical analysis, where analysts faced with anomalies busily fine-Â�tune methods and empirics, when the problem is already in their conceptual base (see the ‘wrecking exercise’ in Baldwin 1985). Surely, conceptual analysis as a first necessary step of all explanations was to be a central concern of any social science. And yetâ•›.â•›.â•›. As it seems, conceptual analysis of this systematic kind was left orphaned when political science bifurcated and divorced so-Â�called normative theory from empirical theory. Spending much time on a concept, its meaning, its evolution and the historical practices attached to it was to become the reserve of the historian of ideas. Erudite and multilingual, those scholars may inspire intellectual awe, but have an ephemeral effect on empirical theory. Worse, in the increasing divide between so-Â�called continental and analytical philosophy, the historian of ideas was not even considered a proper philosopher. Central ‘issues’ in philosophy, so we are told, need to be addressed ‘head on’ with increasing mathematical logic, not with a sense of how historical practices and concepts interact. And, as normative theory, they would address mainly issues of moral philosophy. Inversely, empirical theory, if it did see the need of conceptual analysis, was reduced to a question of variable formation or operationalisation. Since all we needed was a clean scientific language, the history and internal logic of concepts within the theories in which they appear was basically useless, their ‘value’ simply a question of definitional fiat. 4â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini Two things got lost in this bifurcation. First, the concern with the major issues and problematiques of our discipline, such as ‘the state’, or indeed the origins of ‘order’, could no longer be treated in any way comparable to Ernst Cassirer’s analysis of (political) ‘myth’ (Cassirer 1946). It simply does not fit the libertarian-Â�liberal-communitarian-Â�radical divide in Anglo-Â�Saxon moral philosophy-Â�cum-democratic theory and it does not provide us with a measurable variable for testing hypotheses. Between political philosophy and empirical theory, there was no place left for classical political theory. Second, the move to empirical theory seemed to have been misunderstood too. Max Weber had tried hard to establish a true empirical science about things political (order, the state, power, legitimacy). Not content with his own legal origins, where order was approached and understood in a formal way, he wanted to base its understanding in real social action. It was almost as if he reversed the logic of the lawyer: not how law makes order, but how social order makes law possible. And so his methodological writings are a scathing attack on both the formal logic of lawyers and the normative logic of philosophers. And yet, his empirical sociology is the quintessential reference for conceptual analysis. His magnum opus Economy and Society (1925) opens with an incredibly dense section on ‘basic concepts’ which he succinctly develops and justifies, and on which all his theory and analysis is based (Weber 1980 [1921–1922]). At the same time, these conceptualisations were fundamental to this late book in his career, but, in turn, were also the result of his previous studies. The formation of concepts and the formation of theories are intrinsically connected, ‘interdependent’ as Carlsnaes (1981: 7) writes. For, as Bulmer (1979: 658) reminds us, ‘concepts such as the “protestant ethic” or “marginal utility” derive their meaning from the part they play in the theory in which they are embedded, and from the role in that theory itselfâ†œ’. And hence, a conceptual analysis which isolates one concept necessarily slides into the task of assessing a whole theory. No empirical science can escape such a conceptualisation which goes far beyond mere operationalisation. Walter Carlsnaes’ (1981, 1986) early studies all focus on the issue of conceptualisation in this more comprehensive manner. This is truly pioneering given the otherwise very scant attention in the discipline. In this context, my earlier reference to Weber is not fortuitous. Max Weber appears prominently in Carlsnaes’ conceptual analysis, although not always as a main reference. He is the inspiration for a style of conceptual analysis that is embedded in an interpretitivist understanding of the social sciences and therefore ultimately relies on a methodological individualist position, at least at the start (for this, below). And yet at the same time, it is an empirical science which, just as for Weber, aims at causal analysis and falsification. Concept formation will have to feed into this understanding and be consistent with it. Indeed, the main claim of this chapter is that Carlsnaes’ early focus on conceptualisation is not only the logical start for a Weberian-Â�inspired social science, but also the basis from which his later discussion of the agency–structure debate and his theory of foreign policy derive. In the beginning was conceptualisation. In the beginning was conceptualisationâ•‡â•‡ 5 Conceptual analysis as theorising between history and meta-Â� theory When Carlsnaes embarks on his conceptual analyses at the earlier stages of his career, he is not just interested in the better understanding of some terms. Instead, analysing those terms is the condition for and is interdependent with his theorising. Conceptual analysis thus prepares for, and is constitutive of, his theorising of foreign policy which, in turn, reaches back to more conceptual analysis. This section will elaborate the way he ‘does’ conceptualisation. As I will argue, Carlsnaes’ type of analysis exposes some positivist tensions. Becoming aware of those, his approach eventually allows for a vision of theory which concentrates on its constitutive functions, on the way social theory assumptions interact with conceptualisation and actual explanatory theory. By the time, the agency–structure debate hits International Relations, he is therefore not only well prepared, but can immediately use it to elaborate his approach to foreign policy (which will be covered in the next section). Carlsnaes’ understanding of conceptual analysis is based on two crucial distinctions. It starts from the distinction between words and concepts. Whereas the first are mere linguistic expressions (‘ordinary language’), the latter are constructions of the mind. The process of conceptualisation is therefore understood as one ‘in which words and concepts constantly interact with each other, giving meaning not only to specific phenomena but also to the relationships connecting them’ (Carlsnaes 1986: 121). This means that conceptualisation is not primarily about trying to find the ‘best’ or most ‘accurate’ definition, an (often impossible) exercise in semantics as it were, but the delimitation of a meaning in view of its place for an explanation. Hence, although ordinary language and the language of scientific explanation meet, it is the latter which is his primary focus. A second distinction derives from this. Carlsnaes insists quite heavily on the distinction between the level of action and the level of observation. This seems to be the effect of his commitment to Weberian-Â�Schutzian interpretivism and also to the just mentioned more artificial language of observation, often supported by references to neo-Â�positivists like Oppenheim. Weberian interpretivism imposes an obligatory passage point through the meaning-Â�world of the analysed actor, whereas conceptualisation as a scientific enterprise is clearly located at the level of observation. The two levels should not be confused. Indeed, one of his repeated diatribes are different fallacies of reification, such as, for instance, conflating observational terms with the ones on the actor level (Carlsnaes 1981: 67, 81; 1986: 43–46). Only the latter can be actual motives for action, i.e. the base for an empirical explanation. This two-Â�fold distinction produces, in turn, two types of specification and also tensions in his thought, one with history and one with meta-Â�theory. Carlsnaes’ Weberianism makes him say that it ‘is from the world [of the actor] that we have to extrapolate “theoretically”, not to it that we can wilfully impute our own theoretical constructs’ (1986: 44). From here, it is only logical to insist that our conceptualisations need to be aware of the historical battles around words which are connected to major political upheavals. He writes: 6â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini It is this factor that gives a term like ‘ideology’ its causal effectiveness qua word in human discourse, an efficacy which, although it is patently emotive in nature and thus has to be differentiated from the function of a term as a technical designation in political analysis, nevertheless cannot be ignored and evaded simply by stipulative fiat .â•›.â•›. [w]e cannot hope to defuse or neutralise such emotive associations by merely positing an arbitrary and purportedly value-Â�free definition of ‘ideology’. (Carlsnaes 1981: 16) This sensitivity to the historical context in which meanings of the word evolve (see also Carlsnaes 1986: 137–144) and the need to conceptualise from the actor to the observer level seems however to be betrayed in other places, as when, for instance, Carlsnaes endorses Oppenheim’s position against Sartori (for the following, see the discussion in Carlsnaes 1986: 129ff.) Giovanni Sartori’s conceptual analysis, just as Carlsnaes’, is committed to the idea of explanatory theory. But he keeps a far more direct link to conceptual history, or, rather to the way concepts embody historical development and experience: .â•›.â•›.â•›our understandings of meanings are not arbitrary stipulations but reminders of historical experience and experimentation. Most of our political concepts were shaped and acquired their meaning out of a survival of the fittest process. .â•›.â•›. Thus, political scientists and sociologists – let alone the layman – ignoring the authors of the past have freed themselves not only from the constraints of etymology, but equally from the learning process of history. (Sartori 2009 [1975]: 62, original italics) For Sartori, it is therefore coherent to make his definitional work clearly start from the actual (ordinary) usage of words which he classifies within the context of statements and their relations (Sartori 1984). In contrast, Carlsnaes calls Sartori’s approach a version of ‘semantic inductivism’, which, according to him, probably produces a richer understanding, yet one which is not really needed for the purely explanatory purposes of conceptualisation. He prefers here Felix Oppenheim’s (1981) approach which consistently adheres to the observational context, checking concepts for their logico-Â�theoretical import. Oppenheim does reserve some role to ordinary language, but only in a secondary fashion. Yet this runs the very risk Carlsnaes identified earlier, namely, of indulging in the development of a private terminology divorced from the very reason for which we may have been interested in the concept in the first place, including its historical layers and developments. This neo-Â�positivist tendency prompts also a second tension in his approach, this time not with history, but with meta-Â�theory. On the one hand, he insists on the theory-Â�dependence of concepts. According to him, it makes a major difference if a conceptualisation takes place in a structural-Â�functionalist or individualist setting. Therefore, he undertook the analysis of ‘ideology’ with regard to the particular social theories of Marx, Lenin and Mannheim. By embedding them in In the beginning was conceptualisationâ•‡â•‡ 7 their theoretical context, one can unravel the exact nature of their conceptualisation, but also build up the theoretical critique for challenging them. And this theory-Â�dependence is consequential. As long as we do not have a general social theory, conceptual disputes are there to stay (Carlsnaes 1981: 15, 17); they are not just an effect of our intellectual laziness or academic ambition for the niche-Â� distinction. On the other hand, Carlsnaes is not convinced about the idea of ‘essentially contested concepts’. He reads it exclusively in terms of the value-Â�dependence of explanations (as in the reception by Lukes 1974: 26; 1977: 4–6). He then rejects it on the ground of a (Weberian) value–fact distinction, where, normative concerns may well intrude into a research design, but they do not produce non-Â� objective explanations, let alone ‘incommensurable’ ones. For Carlsnaes, incommensurability would imply conceptual relativism (1986: 125). And this, in turn, can be shown to be wrong since the claim for relativism in itself would be either relativistic itself and hence not persuasive, or, if not, self-Â�contradictory (Carlsnaes 1981: 218; 1986: 127). Indeed, scientific process would no longer be one of intellectual persuasion, but a mere ‘socio-Â�structural contest’ (Carlsnaes 1986: 126), here echoing Lakatos’ charge against Kuhn’s (1970 [1962]) analysis of paradigmatic revolutions as resulting in a view of science as ‘mob-Â� psychology’ (Lakatos 1970: 178). And so, for Carlsnaes, it is fair to work with the ‘assumption that a fruitful explanatory concept is in principle always a normatively (or morally, or ethically) neutral concept’ (Carlsnaes 1986: 128). But the necessary theory-Â�dependence of concepts (in the absence of a general social theory) and the assumption of a neutral conceptualisation do not easily meet. Or, rather, defending value-Â�neutrality does not really touch Kuhn’s neo-Â� Kantian approach in terms of concepts as the condition for the possibility of knowledge, i.e. of knowledge as an active enterprise, not a passive registration – a statement Carlsnaes (1981: 32) seems to endorse. How can a conceptualisation be theoretically (not ethically) neutral if concepts are theory-Â�dependent and we lack a general theory? One solution is traced by Oppenheim and seems to be endorsed by Carlsnaes in 1986. Here, the proof is in the pudding: if one can construct a concept which is explanatorily significant and yet does not exclude any other, that conceptualisation is neutral in its effect for empirical theory. Rather than assuming a solution to be impossible – something which is in itself impossible to prove – we could use such conceptualisations to help build a more neutral solution. But this will not do. Oppenheim’s conceptualisations were not neutral in this sense. As one can show (Guzzini 1994: 50–53; 2005: 504–507), there is no way, for instance, that an agent-Â�based concept of power such as Oppenheim’s could accommodate a Luhmannian conceptualisation (Luhmann 1975). In fact this solution only works if one can show the superiority of one social theory over all the others, i.e. de facto assuming the existence of a general social theory. And Carlsnaes seemed then often quite convinced that a widely-Â�conceived interpretivist and methodological individualist approach, one which does neither assume Humean causality nor narrow utilitarian rationalism, could play that role. 8â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini Another solution – and the one which seems to underlie Carlsnaes’ later writings (e.g. 1992, 2002) consists of admitting the meta-Â�theoretical dependence of theorisation and conceptualisation. Here, Carlsnaes classifies theories in a matrix according to two major meta-Â�theoretical commitments, one ontological (individualist-Â�holist), the other epistemological (naturalism-Â�interpretivism). This categorisation had then been proposed in IR by Martin Hollis and Steve Smith (1990), but also in the philosophy of science more generally (Sparti 1992; Hollis 1994). Yet, at the same time, as Carlsnaes would insist – and this is truly Â�important to him – this does not exclude meta-Â�theoretical checks and the adjudication of competitive conceptualisations for being better or worse. In doing so, I would argue, he resists the positivist blackmail mounted in defence of a neutral language: either there is a common language (and hence no incommensurable paradigms) or there is none (and then communication and debate is thus impossible). In response, interpretivists have insisted that such communication takes place in a type of ongoing mutual translation (Kuhn 1970a, 1970b), during which part of the worldview/theory may be lost, but which are anyway made possible exactly by the human capacity to interpret. In other words, the positivist blackmail only functions if one assumes a naturalist, and not interpretivist theory of action (here used both at the level of the actor and observer). Hence, when the agency–structure debate hit IR in the late 1980s, Carlsnaes was better prepared than most. It immediately allowed him to review his own approach in its light. There seems to be little question that he still prefers the individualist-Â�interpretivist corner (to this also later), but his resistance against theoretical perspectivism, the acceptance of the possibly irreducible difference between meta-Â�theories, has been weakened, because he could see that it would not undermine a debate about the superiority of some approaches to others. Whether or not there would be one general theory at the end – a vision which does not exactly entice the pluralist liberal Popperian streak in Carlsnaes – some meta-Â�theoretical commitments surely made less sense for conceptualisations if applied to certain explanatory aims. Perspectivism did not mean relativism. Trying to use conceptualisations in the give and take between explanatory purpose and theoretical frames was still possible, indeed more necessary than ever, since it now included also explicitly the meta-Â�theoretical frames. Systematic empirical analysis could do without only at its peril. The study of foreign policy: from concepts as ideas to ideas as a concept Knowing Carlsnaes, one may be astonished to see that his first major work is dedicated to the analysis of Marx, Lenin and Mannheim, materialists all of them. And yet, there is a clear logic in his approach. Carlsnaes is interested in the explanatory significance of a concept. From the start, his analysis ties concepts to their role in explanations, which, in turn, are embedded in more general social theoretical frameworks. And the three thinkers are, for him, the main references In the beginning was conceptualisationâ•‡â•‡ 9 for developing an explanatorily viable concept of ideology – albeit by critiquing them. Moreover, by analysing the concept of ‘ideology’, Carlsnaes is able to check materialist theories in the way they try to think the ideational components of collective action. Through their critique, he will set the basis for his own framework of analysis dealing with the role of ideas. At first sight his study is about the concept of ideology. But it is much more. By looking at the interplay between concept formation and theory formation it provides the background for developing a theory of action that includes the role of shared ideas as instruments for action (political doctrines) and also, eventually, as factors that constitute the political process in the first place. In fact, Carlsnaes’ analysis plays out in a hermeneutic circle. He uses conceptual analysis for making sense of ideology as an explanatory concept; making sense of ideology as an explanatory concept, he touches on questions of epistemology and the sociology of knowledge which, in turn, help us to better see the role of conceptual analysis. By looking at the role of ideas both for the involved actor and the observer, the conceptualisation of ideology turns out to be a central piece in the development of his meta-Â�theory, theory of action and, as we will see here, foreign policy analysis. After having specified the role of conceptualisation as explanatory constructions (concepts as ideas), he can now move to understand his empirical field where such constructions, both at the level of the actor and observer, play a role (ideas as concepts). In Foreign Policy Analysis (FPA), Carlsnaes’ main target is the attempt to reduce the explanation of action to an input-Â�output scheme, in which either the entire through-Â�put process is ignored (in the earlier behaviouralist manner) or, if acknowledged, reduced to a series of objective or external factors, such as bureaucratic politics, cognitive processes, or indeed (utilitarian) rational choice which assumes and de facto objectifies the actors’ preferences formation. His commitment to methodological individualism stands mainly for the role ‘meaning’ has in the analysis. He wishes to refocus FPA to the intentions of actors which cannot be understood without the meaning they give to their environment and their own actions. In his well-Â�known scheme, he conceives of this intentional dimension as the core of the analysis. Choice and preferences are the base for explaining action in a teleological sense (‘in order toâ•›.â•›.â•›.’, zweckgerichtet). But obviously, having criticised rationalist models for exogenising preference formation, the actual causal component is only added when we move to his second, the dispositional dimension, including (individual) perceptions and (social) values, answering the question why a certain actor was cognitively pre-Â�disposed in a certain way. This, in turn, is embedded within a situational (later: structural) dimension which refers to both the general material and (social) institutional setting within which action takes place. In his later elaboration of the agency–structure problematique, the whole scheme is made dynamic by sequencing all actions for becoming inputs into the structural and dispositional dimension of the next action. See Figure 1.1. It is not too difficult to see how the role of ideas has become central in such an ‘internalist’ analysis. And yet, as if he had opened a Pandora’s box of 10â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini 3 Objective conditions Institutional setting Foreign Policy Action 2 1 Perceptions Choice Values Preference 1 � Intentional dimension 2 � Dispositional dimension 3 � Structural dimension Causal relationship Teleological relationship Figure 1.1â•‡ Explaining a foreign policy action (source: Carlsnaes (1992: 254)). Â� ideational factors, his usage until his famous 1992 piece can be seen as too limited. By concentrating so strongly on the individual for the understanding of action, the pull for ideas does always come from the actors themselves. It is their perception, their values and belief systems which predispose their preferences and action. But by having such a strong commitment against holistic concepts or dynamics of all sorts, it is as if we would study ideational structures, such as belief systems, as being of a private sort. But there is no private language, no atomistic cognition. And hence, even though he does not subscribe to an ontological individualism, the explanatory scheme does not allow for an ideational structure to have some dynamic of its own, irreducible to the appropriations made by individual actors. It is as if Carlsnaes’ often scathing critique of those armchair scientists busily substituting their own interpretations for the ones of the actors, and his empiricist doubt about holistic units of analysis ever too prone to going metaphysical, would meet in an analysis which puts meaning at its core and yet ‘objectifies’ the structures within which they are formed, reducing this relation to a causal and external one (for a related critique of regime theory, see Kratochwil and Ruggie 1986). But also Carlsnaes’ interpretivism, precisely for its being interpretivism, will have to negotiate between an agential and a structural dynamic, if the agency–structure debate is truly taken seriously. Perhaps in a response to a similar critique of his book (Wæver 1990), Carlsnaes came to acknowledge the need to include a more autonomous ideational In the beginning was conceptualisationâ•‡â•‡ 11 component for making his own interpretivist scheme work. He now accepts that there is ultimately a meta-Â�theoretical divide. Yet, so he says, even when starting from an interpretivist-Â�individualist approach, this does not make it impossible to include structural factors as causes of the explanation. This can be done through the way they are understood by actors, i.e. by being thus ‘cognitively mediated’ (Carlsnaes 1993: 21). His real theoretical shift comes when he sees the interplay between agency and structure being played out between ‘institutions’ (which he adds to the structural dimension) and ‘discursive practices’ (in the dispositional and hence for him ultimately agential dimension). In particular the latter allows him now to conceptualise ideas not only as the passive channel for cognitive mediation, but as ‘constitutive of policy processes’ (ibid.: 27). Rather than reducing the relationship between meaning systems and ideas to an external one, driven by the purposeful actor, it becomes an internal one, which constitutes the conditions for the possibility for action. With the reference to discursive practices, his dispositional dimension now includes an intersubjective component. This does arguably complete his initial scheme rather than undermine it. For it does not necessarily mean, as he seems to have feared earlier on, that the focus on the actor’s meanings and intentions is lost. It only pushes the initial inspiration of the dispositional level a logical step further: if we wish to understand how cognition was predisposed, there is not only a pull from the purposeful actor, but also a push from the social practices and shared understandings in which he devises them. A study which has as its explanandum the understanding of foreign policy action may be well served by concentrating on the pull effect in the first place, but now integrating the intersubjective component from the start. Whether it makes sense to conceptualise this as part of agency rather than structure is debatable, since ‘intersubjective’ is not strictly speaking agential. But that is perhaps less important. The significant implication is, however, that a study cannot stop at the intentional dimension as he had earlier said: taking agency and structure seriously means that all dimensions have to be taken into account even if the focus remains on the intentional one. Being hence consistent to the spirit of his earlier analysis, or so I would argue, this solution may also provide a return to a more truly Weberian understanding of social action. After all, even though Weber’s analysis of the origins of capitalism passes through the understandings of the actors, it is their social practices which are the focus of the analysis and not what each individual did, whose behaviour may have resulted from different reasons (equifinality). And that social practice, in turn, is informed by an ideational structure (e.g. protestant ethics) which is intersubjective, not just subjective, and which is constitutive of their practices. And this, in turn, is used to understand the origins of practices (e.g. capitalism) which corresponds to the structural effect of such social practices, surely not in any sense intended, or indeed even part of the meaning system of the actor. I think it would take little effort to re-Â�phrase this analysis as the interplay between social institutions (such as a market economy) and discursive practices. This conceptualisation of ideas has also implications for Carlsnaes’ place within the field of foreign policy analysis. By his acknowledgement of the need 12â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini for combining different theoretical layers for the task of conceptualisation, by his pluralism in seeing the different frames within which it can be done, he becomes an obvious defender of an interpretivist and theory-Â�oriented understanding of FPA (Carlsnaes 2002). That puts him at odds with other equally actor-Â�oriented analysis, which tends again to underplay the role of meaning and proposes a single theoretical analysis of policy processes centred around elite actors (which is one of the possible readings of the programmatic statement in Hudson 2005). It also allows him to become the more individualist reminder of discursive analysis in constructivist FPA. In a sense, there is almost a division of labour: on the one hand, constructivist studies on FPA analysing the shared practices and understandings of the foreign policy actors (Carlsnaes’ dispositional dimension), but explicitly stopping short from making an analysis of the actual choice and action (see, e.g. Hopf 2002; Wæver 2004), and his own analysis concentrating on the actors themselves and their meaningful action in context (closer, in this regard, to e.g. Risse 2000). Only rarely have the two been combined (Weldes 1999). Finally, having conceptualised the role of ideas in foreign policy action in such a manner has methodological implications. Although he clearly endorses comparative analysis, that will have to be case-Â�centred, not variable-Â�centred. Concentrating on the role of ideas and individual understandings makes historically sensitive single or small-Â�n case studies the rule, contingent empirical Â�generalisations the aim (Carlsnaes 1992: 267). It would indeed ask for a form of (comparative) process-Â�tracing in a more interpretivist way than, for example, in George and Bennett (2005), since it features prominently discursive practices and elite intentions. And hence, what started as the conceptualisation of ideology eventually – but logically and systematically – became a distinct theory of foreign policy action straddling the interpretivist Weberian and more discursive approach. Indeed, without that conceptualisation, he could not have reached it, nor defend it, in such a systematic manner. Conclusion The assumption and also lesson of Walter Carlsnaes’ conceptual work is that empirical science cannot be made at the expense of political theory, and political theory not divorced from our attempt to empirically explain and understand. Rather than reducing one to the other (in either direction), they have to be thought in parallel, their interaction explored. Language is not just a neutral medium of representation, but a historical deposit of ideational fights, thus empirics in itself. The philosophical roots of conceptions shed a light on how we can use them within our explanatory frameworks; their meta-Â�theoretical dependence imposes coherence in their use and empirical operationalisation. For Carlsnaes, we cannot do without comprehensive conceptualisation, i.e. conceptual history and meta-Â�theory, not despite but because of our interest in an In the beginning was conceptualisationâ•‡â•‡ 13 empirical science. Having that end in mind, it is with conceptualisation that we have to start. References Baldwin, David A. (1979). Power analysis and world politics: New trends versus old tendencies. World Politics, 31, 161–194. Baldwin, David A. (1980). Interdependence and power: A conceptual analysis. International Organization, 34(4), 471–506. Baldwin, David A. (1985). Economic statecraft. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bulmer, Martin (1979). Concepts in the analysis of qualitative data. Sociological Review, 27(4), 651– 677. Carlsnaes, Walter (1981). The concept of ideology and political analysis: A critical examination of its usage by Marx, Lenin, and Mannheim. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Carlsnaes, Walter (1986). Ideology and foreign policy: Problems of comparative conceptualization. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 36(3), 245–270. Carlsnaes, Walter (1993). On analysing the dynamic of foreign policy change: A critique and reconceptualization. Cooperation and Conflict, 28(1), 5–30. Carlsnaes, Walter (2002). Foreign Policy. In Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse and Beth A. Simmons (eds), Handbook of International Relations (pp.Â€331–349). London: Sage. Cassirer, Ernst (1946). The myth of the state. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. George, Alexander and Bennett, Andrew (2005). Case studies and theory development in the social sciences. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Guzzini, Stefano (1994). Power analysis as a critique of power politics: Understanding power and governance in the second Gulf War. Florence: European University Institute. Guzzini, Stefano (2005). The concept of power: A constructivist analysis. Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 33(3), 495–522. Hollis, Martin (1994). The philosophy of social science: An introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hollis, Martin and Smith, Steve (1990). Explaining and understanding international relations. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Hopf, Ted (2002). Social construction of international politics: Identities and foreign policies, Moscow, 1955 and 1999. Ithaca, NJ: Cornell University Press. Hudson, Valerie M. (2005). Foreign policy analysis: Actor-Â�specific theory and the ground of International Relations. Foreign Policy Analysis, 1(1), 1–30. Kratochwil, Friedrich and Ruggie, John Gerard (1986). International organization: A state of the art on an art of the state. International Organization, 40(4), 753–775. Kuhn, Thomas (1970a). Logic of discovery or psychology of research? In Imre Lakatos and Alan Musgrave (eds), Criticism and the growth of knowledge (pp.Â€ 1–23). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kuhn, Thomas (1970b). Reflections on my critics. In Imre Lakatos and Alan Musgrave (eds), Criticism and the growth of knowledge (pp.Â€ 231–278). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kuhn, Thomas (1970 [1962]). The structure of scientific revolutions. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. 14â•‡â•‡ S. Guzzini Lakatos, Imre (1970). Falsification and the methodology of scientific research programmes. In Imre Lakatos and Alan Musgrave (eds), Criticism and the growth of knowledge (pp.Â€91–196). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Luhmann, Niklas (1975). Macht. Stuttgart: Ferdinand Enke Verlag. Lukes, Steven (1974). Power: A radical view. London: Macmillan. Lukes, Steven (1977). Power and structure. In Steven Lukes (ed.), Essays in social theory (pp.Â€3–29). New York: Columbia University Press. Oppenheim, Felix E. (1981). Political concepts: A reconstruction. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Risse, Thomas (2000). ‘Let’s argue!’ Communicative action in world politics. International Organization, 54(1), 1–39. Sartori, Giovanni (1984). Guidelines for concept analysis. In Giovanni Sartori (ed.) Social science concepts: A systematic analysis (pp.Â€15–88). London: Sage, Sartori, Giovanni (2009 [1975]). The tower of Babel. In David Collier and John Gerring (eds), Concepts and method in social science: The tradition of Giovanni Sartori (pp.Â€61–96). London: Routledge. Sparti, Davide (1992). Se un leone potesse parlare. Indagine sul comprendere e lo spiegare. Firenze: Sansoni. Wæver, Ole (1990). The Language of Foreign Policy. Journal of Peace Research, 27(3), 335–343. Wæver, Ole (2004). European integration and security: Analysing French and German discourses on state, nation, and Europe. In David R. Howarth and Jacob Torfing (eds), Discourse theory in European politics: Identity, policy and governance (pp.Â€ 33–67). Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Weber, Max (1980 [1921–22]). Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. Grundriss der verstehenden Soziologie. Tübingen: J.Â€C.Â€B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck). Weldes, Jutta (1999). Constructing national interests: The United States and the Cuban missile crisis. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. 2 Coming to terms with the ‘Other’ Towards IR going global A.J.R. Groom Introduction Walter Carlsnaes has made an extraordinary contribution to the study of international relations and not only in his particular area of expertise. Much of his writing has been in the relatively unfashionable area of foreign policy analysis. His work has been illuminating and has carried forward a subject area which was, in many ways, in the doldrums. In addition Carlsnaes is also a man of great scholarship, which can be seen in the contributions he has made to various handbooks on IR theory and, in particular, as the founding editor of the European Journal of International Relations. Thus Carlsnaes’ contribution has been not only in the traditional academic terms of research and scholarship, but also in the form of institution building, which has had a significant effect on the study of international relations, not only in Europe but also in North America. Moreover, his experience is relevant for International Relations as it aspires to go global. In plotting the evolution of IR as it begins to go global we are engaging in an endeavour which is not merely an intellectual history, but also an analysis of sociological and political trends. Where we have come from explains more than a little of what we are. Moreover, memory is a guide for the future, since we can draw upon its lessons, not only from our past failures but also from our past successes. In plotting this evolution a number of way stages can be identified. However, most great events, which may be signified by a particular act or period, are in fact part of a larger process. There is room for agency in bringing about particular acts, but there is also a need for a cognisant awareness of the structure of the greater process within which the agent acts. The work of Carlsnaes, both in foreign policy analysis and in the building of professional organisations, illustrates both the agency and the structure. He has contributed mightily to both. Our purpose is first to take some ‘snap-Â�shots’ of the structure in evolution and then to look at agency in the form of Carlsnaes’ contribution to institution building before drawing some lessons for IR as it begins to go global. An encounter with the ‘Other’ One way stage that I would like to identify is 2 January 1492, because it is a watershed between the notion of Europe, and that of the Other. In 1492 the 16â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom Â� conquest of the Americas by the Iberians was about to get underway and at the same time Granada fell to the Iberians thus ending 700 years of Muslim governance, culture, science and philosophy in Western Europe. Of course, the influence of the Muslims in Europe did not end there because as they were pushed out of Europe at one extremity geographically, they were entering Europe at the other extremity of the continent by establishing themselves in Anatolia and the Balkans to the extent that they were eventually rebuffed from the gates of Vienna in 1689. Nevertheless, since Europe was not tolerant of others, especially Muslims, they were perceived as Other. International Relations emerged to analyse a world in which notions of sovereignty increasingly took root. Sovereignty involved the idea of sameness and of equality and it became the basis of the Westphalian system. Muslims were beyond this system and not allowed to take part in it. Thus the idea of being the same was not applied to the new world of the Americas, nor to the old world of the Muslims as their home in Europe switched from Iberia to the Balkans. In this sense we can say that IR grew out of a stratified European world. The ‘world’ was Europe and the rest was Other. IR therefore developed within a system where primacy was with the European sovereign state. Europeans asserted their supremacy, the superiority of their civilisation, their right to exercise their manifest destiny, to bear the white man’s burden, to engage in a mission civilisatrice and to pillage the world. While relations between European states were hierarchical, because of their differing capacities, this stratification was nothing when compared to that between the European-Â�centric world and the Other. Speaking with many tongues What we speak has a significant influence on what and how we think. Galtung (1981) suggests that, in so far as IR is concerned, there were four approaches to which I wish to add a fifth. Galtung’s four worlds are Gallic, Nipponic, Teutonic and Saxonic, and to these I would add a Russian or Eurasian approach. The importance of language and the significance of the structural dominance of English as it replaced French as the language of both the conduct of international relations and its study needs to be stressed. He points out that English has had its successes, not only by dint of the fact that it is the language of the last two global leaders, the United Kingdom and the United States, but also because its simple linear argument stresses clarity. Short sentences with few sub-Â�clauses exemplify its style, however, while English can express a linear argument clearly, other languages, such as German, are better for expressing complexity. Indeed, it is interesting to speculate what might have been the development of IR if its principal language had been German or French. However, the collapse of German as an international medium for science in the Nazi period left French more exposed and less able to compete with English. Such a consideration is not merely an indulgence in thinking about what might have been, but may well prepare us for what might be, as other languages, such as Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese or Arabic come to play a more important role Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 17 at the global level. They will also surely have an impact on the conduct, conceptions and the study of IR. In considering these five linguistic-Â�structural approaches, we can see that the Gallic approach gives great emphasis to the notion of a state and therefore to the theory and practice of power, both as pouvoir and puissance, and administration. While the Gallic tradition is concerned with law, it has also developed a strong tradition of conceptualised area studies drawing on a wide interdisciplinary base, not only in the Social Sciences, but also beyond. The Nipponic tradition is one that is based on political philosophy, and it is interesting to note the linkages between German and Japanese philosophers in the 1920s in the area of international political theory. Moreover, the Nipponic tradition of that period also brought the tentative development of a particular niche in the area of peace research. The Teutonic approach also stresses philosophy, hence the linkages in the 1920s and, like the Japanese, Germany became an early centre for peace research in the 1960s. The Saxonic approach, however, gives much more attention to empirical research and is often conceived, at least in the United States, in terms of political science, whereas international history is the predominant root in the UK tradition. To these should be added a Russian or Eurasian tradition in which stratification, particularly in terms of class within states, stratification due to the spread of global capitalism and geopolitics were given salience. Along with the Ottomans, were the Russians part of Europe or were they part of the Other? For some the question is still pertinent. Three great traditions As Europe began to conceptualise international relations it did so in a framework which reflected not only these five cultural approaches but also three great traditions of political thought concerning intergroup relations. These go back beyond the Westphalian system to the ancient European world, and indeed, they go beyond Europe to other parts of the world, such as China and India, through thinkers such as Sun Tsu and Emperor Ashoka. Martin Wight (1991) summed up these three traditions as that of the realist, the rationalist and the revolutionary. Michael Banks (1985) suggested a similar division, which he called realists, world society approaches and structuralists. We can quickly see that thinkers such as Hobbes and Machiavelli fall into the realist tradition, whereas Grotius and Kant reflect a more pluralist philosophy. If we think in terms of structuralists, then the name of Karl Marx immediately comes to the fore. It is often the case nowadays that this third tradition of structuralists is ignored to be replaced by that of constructivists. However, it would be short sighted to drop the structuralist tradition and the constructivist approach can be seen as being more about method than a tradition of thought. In the nineteenth century all three of these traditions were evident as international relations was emerging as a social science. A realist framework could be seen through the operation of the balance of power and its institutionalisation in the concert system. It was an approach that was state-Â�centric, which saw power 18â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom politics as the main medium of influence and exhibited an overriding concern with the security dilemma. At the same time, it was also possible to identify a more rationalist, progressive and pluralist approach in the development of international public unions, the early attempts at arms control through the Hague Peace Conferences, the growth of arbitration and international courts, the humanitarian development of human rights and the involvement of civil society in such questions as the establishment of the International Committee of the Red Cross, the abolition of the slave trade and then, eventually, of slavery itself. The revolutionary or structural approach in the nineteenth century manifested itself in the analysis of Marx and others about the growth, evolution and ultimate downfall of capitalism, which was associated, in their eyes, with imperialism. Indeed, Lenin (1964) wrote a pamphlet entitled ‘Imperialism: the Highest Form of Capitalism’ during the Great War, which was his contribution to a debate involving others, such as Hobson and Schumpeter, about the relationship between capitalism and imperialism. This was not the only concern of structuralist analysis, since geopolitics, which had its early roots in Sweden, had become a major structural approach. It could be seen in the writings of Mahan and Mackinder, and later in the academic writings of Haushofer and others in Munich, in its twisted use as a ‘scientific’ base for racist expansion by Hitlerite Germany. The First World War, rightly called The Great War, was a catastrophe for the Euro-Â�centric world. It was a world-Â�wide European civil war. Pride comes before a fall, and the Europeans were undoubtedly arrogant to an almost unbelievable extent in their utter conviction of their racial and religious superiority, their advanced social and economic organisation and of their greater force of arms. The fall was equally great, as those who thought themselves as bringing civilisation to the world, destroyed their own civilisation in the Fields of Flanders, in the Dolomites, in the Levant and Near East and on the Great Steppes of Central and Eastern Europe. This catastrophe could not but give food for thought, and the question arose as to how such another collapse of civilisation could be prevented. It was in this atmosphere that the academic discipline of International Relations was founded. The agenda was clear: there were two fundamental questions, namely, what are the causes of war, and what are the bases of a stable, long-Â�term peace? Of the three traditions to which we have just made reference, two were, in fact, out of the running, in the sense that the balance of power system of power politics had failed in 1914, and the consequences of this failure were evident to all. On the other hand, structuralist approaches were, in their economic form at least, taken up by a revolutionary state, namely, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), which sought to eliminate the bourgeoisie and bourgeois states elsewhere in the world, but especially in Western Europe. The potential victims were not amused. For them, this left the tradition of rational, progressive thought, of large-Â�scale social engineering. Under the aegis of many groups in civil society, through such forms as the League of Nations Union, a grand attempt was made to create a new world order which would bring out the natural harmony of interests between peoples who could have no interest in the conduct of wars which Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 19 were essentially dynastic. States which were democratic and nations which became states were deemed likely to be of the liberal internationalist way of thinking. They could settle their differences peacefully if there were created, at the same time, an organisation of a universal nature. It could promote not only functional integration, but also establish a regime of international peace and security. This organisation was the League of Nations. Founding an academic discipline Thus International Relations grew out of the experience of the nineteenth century and reflected a long tradition of thought. The first Chair of International Relations was established at the University of Wales in Aberystwyth, a small seaside town on the Welsh coast, and this was followed quite quickly by Chairs at the London School of Economics (LSE) and at Oxford. At the same time, what later became the Royal Institute of International Affairs (Chatham House) was also founded. All of them were concerned with what was deemed to be the scientific study of the causes of war, and the conditions for permanent peace. Similar institutions followed quickly in the United States (US). The tradition in the United Kingdom (UK) grew out of a concern with international political history, whereas that in the United States was much more influenced by international law and the recently established political science. Both in the US and in the UK the state was not given the salience that was evident in continental countries. Indeed, the reference was usually to the government rather than to the state. There was no strong notion of l’État with a republican tradition, such as predominates in France and in many other continental countries. From the beginning, IR was essentially Anglo-Â�American, but not exclusively so. The Graduate Institute of International Studies in Geneva, established in 1927, was a case in point. As the League of Nations developed in areas beyond that of collective security, it established groups, such as the Institute for Intellectual Cooperation, which in turn organised many academic conferences in the 1920s and 1930s. These attracted academics in the newly established field of International Relations and also those from International Law and International History. This collegiality involved scholars from many of the independent states of the world, which at that time were essentially European, North American, the British Dominions and Latin American, with a few additions. It was broken by the rise of the Nazis in Germany, and more generally of Fascism and Social Darwinism in much of continental Europe. At the same time it brought an emigration of leading IR scholars, who brought a continental input of a more philosophical sort to the essentially empirical or historical analysis, which then pertained in Britain and the United States. The scholars included Georg Schwarzenberger in the UK and Hans Morgenthau, Ernst Haas, Arnold Wolfers and Karl Deutsch in the US. They quickly made their contribution along with the existing leaders of the field who included E.H. Carr, Sir Charles Webster, Sir Alfred Zimmern and David Mitrany in the UK, and Quincy Wright, William and Annette Fox, Norman Palmer, Pitman Potter and George Kennan in the US. Thus, while on the 20â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom Â� continent there was little development in terms of professorial positions, departments and the like, nevertheless, the continental voice was heard in the Anglo-Â� American domain. This phase of the continentalisation of IR in the US is now over. Global IR is perhaps the worse for it, since there are disturbing elements of hegemony and insularity leading to an ever greater parochialism in some aspects of academic life in the US. There is now little or no European influence on US scholarship and research, which may be because Europe has nothing to say. But it could also be because the US is increasingly parochial and in particular because many US scholars are not able to read that which is written in other languages. Translation often loses the subtleties of thought of the original. As IR became more heavily concentrated in the US, at least in terms of quantity, and as IR risked becoming, as some alleged it had already become, an American Social Science, then the study reflected the world as seen by a super Power and its clones. However, there were challenges to such approaches in the US, for example by Karl Deutsch and James Rosenau in the 1960s, and also in the writings of John Burton and David Mitrany in the UK, which circulated quite widely in North America. These writers began to regard the question of units of analysis, whether states or systems of transactions, and levels of analysis, with pluralist views of world society, as being of greater significance than was usually attributed to them in the US. Other new voices began to be heard, for example, in foreign policy analysis, where Indian scholars developed notions of non-Â�alignment, while structural theories of a centre-Â�periphery nature emanated from Latin America. The original ‘English’ school flourished in the UK, with Martin Wight, Herbert Butterfield, C.A.W. Manning and, later, Hedley Bull, Adam Watson, Richard Little and Barry Buzan. Moreover, historical sociology was not neglected in the writings of Michael Mann. However strangely, a key American enterprise was the development of integration theory, particularly when applied to the empirical case of the European Union. The Europeans paid scant attention conceptually to what was happening on their own doorstep, at least initially. The famous article An American Social Science: International Relations by Stanley Hoffmann (1977), who had received much of his training in France, but who was, nevertheless, a leading figure in IR in the US, suggested that IR was an American Social Science. There is no doubt, that in terms of quantity and quality, the US produced much that was excellent, but there was also work of lesser quality. In most of the main areas, or sub-Â�fields, of International Relations, the European contribution was considerable and independent of that of the US, whether in International Political Theory, Conflict Studies, Strategic Studies, International Political Economy, Political Geography and the like. Indeed, it could be said that there was a greater variety of high quality work in Europe than in the US, but while the Europeans were very aware of what was happening in North America, the reverse was not true, to the detriment of both. Only in rational choice theory was there a gross asymmetry. Where whole schools of rational choice theorists flourished in the US, only a few, rather isolated adepts Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 21 of this approach existed in Europe. So where are the major centres of International Relations as a discipline as we advance into the twenty-Â�first century? It is quite clear that there has been a significant contribution in the US, the UK, France, Germany, Russia, Scandinavia, Japan and Australia. On the other hand, the contribution from other areas, where it might have been expected, was less than anticipated, such as from Canada, the Indian sub-Â�Continent, South East Asia, Brazil, China, Korea, Italy and Spain. However, many of these are likely to make a significant contribution in the future, as will Turkey, but there still remain arid regions, such as Africa, the Levant and the Middle East and, to a large degree, South East Asia. This evolution of a discipline has been and will be carried forward by individuals, creating and reacting within a professionalised framework. They are the agents acting within and creating the structure bit by bit. One such individual is Walter Carlsnaes. Carlsnaes’ contribution The many contributions that Walter Carlsnaes has made to the study of international relations, and in particular, to foreign policy analysis, are the subject of other essays in this volume. I shall therefore, concentrate on his contribution to the professionalisation and Europeanisation of IR as an academic discipline, and the contribution that he has made to an even wider world, as the founding editor of the European Journal of International Relations. Indeed, Carlsnaes has left a lasting mark as the first editor and the journal is now established as one of the leading journals in IR in the world. However, it was not always thus. In various parts of Europe during the 1950s and 1960s there gradually emerged centres where IR studies were to some degree institutionalised in the form of departments or research institutes. Examples of this can be found in Britain, France, the Netherlands and in the Scandinavian countries. These centres clearly made a contribution of great importance to the subject world-Â�wide in the fields of International Political Economy, Conflict Studies, Strategic Studies, International History, International Law, and the conceptualised study of geographical regions, particularly in the developing world. For example, the phrase tiers-Â�monde is an indicator that Third World Studies began in the framework of French Social Science. At the same time, there was the original English School, which was formed by a number of scholars with an historical and philosophical background, who shared, for the most part, a Christian ideology and who put international political theory, back on to the agenda. Likewise, political geography was a subject that was strong in France. Nevertheless, International Relations, as an academic subject, was spread around Europe in penny packets, sometimes in the Humanities, in Social Science or in Law, and at other times attached to departments of Political Science, Economics, Political Economy or History depending on national traditions and conceptions. There were few departments or Chairs, and very few research institutes, although there were some academic think-Â�tanks, such as Chatham House and its equivalents in countries such as Belgium, the Netherlands, the Scandinavian 22â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom countries and Germany, not forgetting the Academy of Science Institutes in the Soviet sphere. There were very few professional associations. In short, except in the UK, there was no critical mass, and this remains to some degree the case in various countries in Europe and beyond, such as India. However, two professional associations began to give a degree of coherence to work in the field on both sides of the Atlantic. The first occurred in the US with the setting up of the International Studies Association (ISA) in the 1960s, which was initially based on the West coast, and then spread throughout North America, and indeed, beyond, so that it is now a North American organisation with an international membership. A little later, in 1974, the British International Studies Association (BISA) was founded in the UK. It grew out of something called the Bailey Conference, which in its turn was a hangover from meetings organised under League of Nations’ auspices between national groups in the inter-Â�war period. To give an indication of the growth in size in Britain, a Bailey Conference in 1966 had, from memory, 27 participants, and that represented grosso modo the academic field of IR. It was small, and concentrated in very few centres such as London, Aberystwyth and, to a lesser degree, small centres in places such as Aberdeen. However, in the decade that followed there was an expansion of posts so that it made sense to create BISA, and this was done by the leading professorial figures in the UK at that time, such as Alistair Buchan, Susan Strange, Philip Reynolds, David Wightman, Jack Spence and a few others. The rite de passage for graduate studies in IR still remained in the US, although some graduate students from the Commonwealth and the Continent came to the UK, as did Walter Carlsnaes. But this was all to change, and a European dimension was in the offing. The stimulus for building beyond national associations towards creating a European dimension for the study of international relations was a joint conference to be organised by BISA and ISA in London in 1989. At that time ISA was in a phase of what can only be called imperialistic expansion. It had aspirations to become not the national association in the US or regionally in North America, but to become a global hegemonic organisation under US leadership, finance and mentoring, and it saw, or so it seemed to people in BISA, that the proposed London conference would be an opportunity for ISA to establish itself in Europe, and for Europe to be a regional body of the ISA in a traditional centre–periphery structure. The planning for the conference on the BISA side was undertaken by a committee led by the chairpersons or vice-Â�chairpersons of BISA, who in the period 1986–1992 were Jack Spence, Barry Buzan and A.J.R. Groom. It was Groom, in fact, who raised the issue of ISA incorporating Europe into its framework and expressed the view that if Europe was to organise it should be done by Europeans, and not done for Europeans by an American association – benevolent or otherwise. The inevitable followed, since if an issue is raised in a Committee, those who raise the issue are normally told to get on with the job, and Groom set about doing this, with the aid of John Roper from Chatham House, and Bob O’Neill, from the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS). Both Jack Spence and Barry Buzan gave very strong support in alerting their academic networks. Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 23 It soon became evident that there was a market for some form of European dimension for the study of IR. Informal meetings were held at BISA conferences, and also at European Committee for Political Research (ECPR) Joint Sessions, which led eventually in 1989 to a Workshop on International Relations and Europe in the Paris Joint Sessions of ECPR. Many of the participants in that workshop then formed an informal committee to take the matter further, and Walter Carlsnaes was to become an important figure in that committee. They were a group of individuals who had imagination, commitment and the willingness to work hard. They were not put off by predictions of failure and they were careful not to turn anybody away, whether because of their nationality or their approach. Indeed, the aspiration was clearly to be pan-Â�European and it was a good moment in the sense that establishing ties with the Central and East European countries began to be easier with the end of the Cold War. The committee used a number of building blocks. One was to ensure that there was a strong French participation, because that would be a gate to participation by scholars in Mediterranean countries, such as Spain and Italy. At the other end of Europe was the Scandinavian group which already had ties amongst themselves, and there were particular strengths in the Netherlands, Germany and Russia, where the vice rectors of the Moscow State Institute of International Relations (MGIMO) were enthusiastic in playing a role. This process then culminated in the First Pan-Â�European International Relations Conference, which was organised at the University of Heidelberg in 1992 by Frank Pfetsch and Groom. Something approaching 500 scholars from all parts of Europe attended, as did a sprinkling of leaders in the field from North America. Indeed, by now the leadership and attitude of ISA towards Europe had changed radically from being that of incorporating the periphery to one of a welcome consensual and co-Â�operative collaboration. So what was to be the next step? It was now evident that there was a clear demand, and that some form of association needed to be created. There were two options. The first was to accept the notion of leadership from the ISA, and to become a regional body in ISA, and this was rejected on the basis that if Europeans were to be organised they must organise themselves, and not lean unduly on the ISA, valuable though its support and experience turned out to be. The second option was to be an independent body, but this raised financial questions, especially the establishment of a secretariat, which also raised the issue of membership and given that the aim was to be pan-Â�European, it was extremely difficult in those days for any individuals or institutions from East and Central Europe to pay dues in hard currency. A solution was found in the framework of the European Consortium for Political Research (ECPR), which had been set up in 1970 on the same basis as the IR organisation, namely, to create a European dimension so that Europeans did not have to go to North America to talk to each other. ECPR was therefore able to provide a legal framework, in the sense that it is a charity registered in England, under English law, and it had sub-Â�groupings which were known as Standing Groups of which the IR Committee became one. In other words, the ECPR provided a broad framework within which a 24â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom largely autonomous International Relations association on a European scale found a home, and there, happily, it remains. The Standing Group Committee had ambitions to go beyond that of simply holding a pan-Â�European conference every three years, of which the seventh was held in Stockholm in September 2010. The idea was quickly expressed that Europe needed a European journal and negotiations were started with publishers to investigate the possibilities. In those days the establishment of a journal was not easy, and most journals were associated with the membership dues of a particular association. Because the Standing Group did not have individual membership since it was open to all, without membership fees, although fees were charged for specific activities such as conferences, this option was not available. Thus it was necessary to find a publisher who would be willing to accept the risk of a journal which was not tied to a specific fee-Â�paying membership. In a sense the Conference at Heidelberg and the subsequent one in Paris in 1995 were very important because they revealed that there was a body of scholars who were easily accessible numbering 500 or more who might be interested in individual subscriptions, as well as the normal institutional subscriptions. Groom and WolfÂ�Dieter Eberwein canvassed publishers and came up with two possibilities, Sage and Frank Cass, they eventually recommended that the contract offered by Sage was the most advantageous for the European dimension. The Standing Group had now established a journal, so it was then necessary to choose an editor, and the committee used various networks to elicit the names of those who might be interested, and indeed, several candidates came forward. The Standing Group Committee chose Walter Carlsnaes as the first editor, and he in his turn was able to negotiate with Uppsala University a very generous arrangement in which his teaching load was lightened and he was given strong support by the university. Not only was the university generous, but so was Walter Carlsnaes – of his time, of his effort, and he made ample use of his connections in Scandinavia, in Britain, in various other parts of Europe, as well as in North America. He was also an editor, not only of high scholarly standing, but one with a catholic approach. Above all, he was an intensely professional editor. He set standards which were at the highest international level and would not break them in any substantive fashion. He was an editor of commitment, flair and reliability with an exemplary integrity. Occasionally explosive by nature, he would subsequently come down to earth feet first and well planted in good sense. He set out his philosophy for the new journal in the first issue, which was in March 1995. The attitude of the Standing Group Committee, the Editorial Board as well as its Advisory Council, was that, once having made a careful choice of editor, it was, within reason, the editor’s job to establish the journal as he saw fit. In short, we had confidence in Carlsnaes, and that confidence was amply repaid. In his 1995 editorial on the publication of the first issue of the new journal Carlsnaes saw it as ‘the obvious occasion to give voice to the intended intellectual timbre of a new journal, and to articulate its ambitions vis-Â�à-vis the research and scholarly community for which it has been created.’ Carlsnaes then went on to explain what he meant by European, by commenting that ‘although European Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 25 in terms of its genesis, governance and title, our aim is to make this a truly international journal in its intellectual scope and geographic reach. Since its purpose is to stimulate and disseminate research and scholarship in international relations throughout the global academic community, it should hence in no way be construed to be mainly a journal for Europeans writing about Europe.’ Carlsnaes felt ‘no concomitant need to impose a “European” point of view – either philosophically, methodologically or geographically – on its contents’. He added that ‘if there is a distinct advantage in being a European scholar (rather than, say, an American one), it is, perhaps, that we frequently have to cross geographic, linguistic and institutional boundaries in order to perform well as researchers and academic teachers. Paradoxical as it may sound, residing mainly within small or medium-Â�sized countries and academic milieus may very well function as a builtÂ�in antidote to parochialism; and to the extent that this is the case, I hope that this will be reflected in the pages of this journal.’Carlsnaes posed the question as to what sort of contributions the journal should publish, and he stated firmly that he was ‘equally open to submissions which are either typically mainstream or which .â•›.â•›. emanate from the more critical or dissident margins of International Relations, wherever these may be located. What matters in this respect is the quality of the argumentation being presented, not the intellectual domicile of the author(s).’ There was nevertheless a priority given ‘to issues of general theoretical concern over issues with a narrow empirical or policy import’. Moreover, the journal was ‘to facilitate ties with cognate disciplines within and outside the social sciences’. Carlsnaes reminded himself and others that the only effective way to produce an excellent journal is to attract the very best scholarship available; but to do so the journal must be made to be intellectually attractive in the first place, which is no mean feat and which certainly will not be accomplished simply by proclaiming lofty aspirations. He then went on to express the hope that he had struck ‘a responsive chord within both reader and prospective author, in whose hands the future of this venture ultimately lies’ (Carlsnaes 1995). In a word, he was successful, beyond our wildest dreams. Carlsnaes succeeded unequivocally in creating an International Relations journal that is the equal of any in Europe or North America, and which is widely acknowledged as such. He provided the foundation for the journal and much of the structure. Nevertheless, the European Journal of International Relations (EJIR) is a journal which does not reflect the Other. It is a journal of the centre which is essentially in Europe and North America, so the time is becoming ripe for a further step to embrace, not only the centre, but also the Other. Going global? IR is in the process of going global, not through a process of cloning, but by aspiring to the genuine opening of mind, spirit and research to the Other and to 26â•‡â•‡ A.J.R. Groom the agenda of the Other. In East Asia, Japan has had an independent voice in the field since the 1920s, although it was essentially a discussion in international political theory. India and China are now developing professional associations, and Brazil is well on its way to having a very vibrant critical mass in the field of IR. Just as the Pan-Â�European conferences brought the notion of a European IR community into embryonic being, then such a global community may also be in its embryonic stage. Over a 15-year period, first Buzan, and then Groom, acted as Chairpersons of the World International Studies Committee (WISC). WISC has a membership of over 20 International Studies Associations of a national or regional character from all over the world, including major bodies such as ISA, BISA, Japanese Association of International Relations (JAIR) and Korea International Studies Association (KISA). It has already held two global conferences, each with an attendance of around 1000 scholars, including the limited participation of scholars from areas of the world such as Central Asia, who normally do not participate in such affairs. The third such conference was held in Oporto in August 2011. The aim is to bring a more global perspective, in terms of participation and agenda, to the study of International Relations. In other words, it is to embrace the Other in a manner acceptable to all. At the moment there are areas with poor participation in terms of numbers from Africa, the Arab world, South East Asia and the sub-Â� Continent. Fortunately, there has been a growing and increasingly vibrant contribution from Latin America. But no national association, no regional association can act in a fully global manner from its own base. It must create a new base, and one that is acceptable to all – in short a global base. What the Standing Group did for Europe needs to be done for global IR. At the present time WISC is a potential vehicle for this, and individual scholars, such as Tickner and Wæver (2009), are undertaking very helpful and illuminating mapping exercises of International Relations all over the world. If the new generation adopts the openness, the commitment and the integrity of the generation of Walter Carlsnaes, then IR will be going global to the benefit of all. References Banks, Michael (1985). The inter-Â�paradigm debate. In Margot Light and A.J.R. Groom (eds), International relations: A handbook of current theory (pp.Â€ 7–26). London: Frances Pinter. Carlsnaes, Walter (1995). Editorial. European Journal of International Relations, 1(1), 5–7. Galtung, Johan (1981). Structure, culture, and intellectual style: An essay comparing Saxonic, Teutonic, Gallic and Nipponic approaches. Social Science Information/sur les sciences sociales, 20(6), 817–856. Hoffmann, Stanley (1977). An American social science: International Relations. Daedalus, 106(3), 41–60. Lenin, Vladimir I. (1964). Imperialism, the highest stage of capitalism. In Collected Works (Vol. 22). London: Lawrence and Wishart. Tickner, Arlene B. and Wæver, Ole (eds) (2009). International relations scholarship around the world. London: Routledge. Towards IR going globalâ•‡â•‡ 27 Waever, Ole (1981) The sociology of a not so international discipline. International Organization, 53(3), 695. Wight, Martin (1991). International theory: The three traditions (edited by Gabriele Wight and Brian Porter). London: Leicester University Press. Part II The agency–structure problemâ•›.â•›.â•›. 3 Agency, structure, international relations and foreign policy Colin Wight Introduction Discussions of the agent–structure problem (ASP) in International Relations (IR) invariably begin with Alexander Wendt’s 1987 piece on the issue. There is some justification to this, and although scholars prior to Wendt’s seminal article had addressed the issue, it is Wendt who most clearly states the problem and gives it a form of enduring resonance to IR theorists. Since the publication of Wendt’s article a small cottage industry surrounding the ASP has Â�developed and it is rare to find a theoretical piece that does not make at least a passing reference to it. Hence it is not surprising that the debate has seeped into all areas of the field, including of course, foreign policy analysis. Yet despite the prominence of Wendt’s structurationist approach to the issue his solution is not without its problems, particularly the commitment to the ‘mutually constitutive’ nature of the agent–structure relationship; a position that has become something of a leitmotif for most non-Â�rationalist approaches when addressing the issue. The problem with ‘mutually constitutive’ is that it seems to say everything and nothing. Moreover, it is not clear how such a relationship can be specified and unpacked in empirical research and as such, the methodological issues surrounding a structurationist ontology have yet to be fully explored. One notable exception to this neglect of the methodological dimensions is Walter Carlsnaes’ excellent 1992 piece on the subject: The Agency–Structure Problem in Foreign Policy Analysis. Anthony Giddens, who developed the structurationist model at the heart of Wendt’s treatment of the issue, said little about the methodological implications of his approach, other than that at some point one would have to ‘methodologically bracket’ either agents or structures in order to get research underway (Giddens 1984). But the choice of which (agents or structures) forms the starting point is left to the preferences of the individual researcher. Those of a more structuralist persuasion would inevitably begin with structures; those more inclined towards agential accounts would begin with agency. A related problem concerns how we interpret the ‘mutual’ aspect of mutually constitutive. Do both agents and structures play an equal role in the production of all outcomes, or might the complex interplay of both vary over time and space? Again, Wendt provides little guidance on this issue, although 32â•‡â•‡ C. Wight my view is that this is primarily an empirical question, since it is possible to conceive of social structural complexes that provide little room for the exercise of agency, or those that facilitate increased agential possibilities (Wight 2006: 99–102). And of course, in terms of any form of emancipatory politics understanding these differences is essential.1 My aim in this chapter is to engage with Carlsnaes’ important discussion of the agent–structure problem in relation to foreign policy analysis and explore his use of Margaret Archer’s (1985, 1990, 1995) morphogenetic framework as a means of reintroducing time into the agent–structure relationship. However, the reintroduction of time, whilst important, is only one aspect of Carlsanes’ approach to the problem and he innovatively uses the agent–structure problem in three interrelated ways: first, through the introduction of Archer’s morphogenetic approach he provides a methodological counterpoint to Wendt’s more ontologically orientated approach; second, as an organising device to understand the various ways of addressing foreign policy in IR, thus providing a useful resource aimed at generating a dialogue among differing approaches; and third, as a way of problematising any easy separation between foreign policy and IR. In this chapter, I will briefly examine how these three aspects of the problem relate to one another, and then suggest a reformulation of the levels-Â�of-analysis issue that can help strengthen Carlsnaes’ approach to all three of these issues. Carlsnaes and the agent–structure problem Although it is possible to read the agent–structure problem back into almost any theoretical approach, it is Alexander Wendt who takes the problem and gives it an explicit form and salience relevant to IR. The starting point for Wendt was, of course, Kenneth Waltz’s development of structural realism in 1979. In many respects, Wendt picked up on Richard Ashley’s (1984) deep critique (itself largely a development of E.P. Thompson’s (1978) critique of Althusser) of Waltz’s structuralism and using resources drawn from social theory developed an alternative ‘structurationist’ model. Over time, Wendt’s model of the Â�agent–structure relationship has changed from one of ‘mutual-Â�constitution’ to ‘supervienence’ (Wendt 1999: 155). However, the difference between a ‘mutually-Â�constitutive’ relationship and a ‘supervenient’ one is not clear, and both imply that a change in one element must necessitate a change in the other. Hence despite this terminological change Wendt’s model of the agent–structure relationship seems remarkably resilient. According to Wendt, any solution to the agent–structure problem must begin with a meta-Â�theoretical specification of the relationship between agents and structures that avoids the reduction of one to the other. A conception that can allow, ‘that the capacities and even existence of human agents are in some way necessarily related to a social structural context – that they are inseparable from human sociality’ (Wendt 1987: 355). Rejecting individualist and structuralist accounts of social inquiry, Wendt’s chosen meta-Â�theoretical stance is that of Giddens’ structuration theory underpinned by scientific realist philosophy of Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 33 science. Structuration theory is ‘a conceptual framework or meta-Â�theory for thinking about real world social systems’ (Wendt 1987: 355). Such an approach, argues Wendt, ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›tries to avoid what I shall argue are the negative consequences of individualism and structuralism by giving agents and structures equal ontological status’ (Wendt 1987: 339). Structuration theory then presents us with a radically different social ontology from that articulated in individualist or structuralist accounts because as Wendt puts it, ‘this conceptualisation forces us to rethink the fundamental properties of (state) agents and system structures’ (ibid.). The idea of ‘rethinking the fundamental properties’ of the constitutive elements of the relationship makes it clear that Wendt sees the ASP as primarily ontological in form. In terms of methodology he suggests that the consequence of adopting a structurationist ontology, and giving equal ontological status to both agents and structures, will necessarily involve two differing but complementary forms of explanation. The first is a question of ‘how is action X possible?’ the second ‘Why did X happen rather than Y?’ ‘How’ questions are concerned with what could happen (the possible), whereas ‘Why’ questions are concerned with what does happen (the actual). ‘How’ questions are essentially structural in form; ‘Why’ questions historical; Structural analysis explains the possible; Historical analysis explains the actual (Wendt 1987: 363). These different kinds of question can also be linked to Wendt’s understanding of the difference between constitutive (structural) and explanatory (historical) theory (Wendt 1998). Although Wendt wants to preserve the distinctions between structural and historical explanations, he believes not only that they can, but that they must, be combined in any adequate social theory. This combination is to be effected through what Wendt calls ‘structural-Â�historical’ or ‘dialectical’ analysis. The method by which ‘structural-Â�historical’ analysis advances is to ‘bracket-Â�offâ†œ’ first one mode and then the other, ‘that is, taking social structures and agents in turn as temporarily given in order to examine the explanatory effects of the other’ (Wendt 1987: 364–365). Hence for Wendt, the methodological issues are derived from the ontological ones. ‘Bracketing’ is only necessary if both agents and structures are be theorised in one account. Carslnaes’ (1992) contribution to the agent–structure debate is predicated not only on his dissatisfaction with both the conventional individualist and structuralist accounts but also with the solution proposed by Wendt, and his belief that a comprehensive understanding of the problem can be of major benefit to foreign policy analysis. Like Wendt, Carlsnaes warns against simplistic solutions that give primacy to either agents or structures. However, Carlsnaes also draws an explicit link to the issue of naturalism (the question of whether the social sciences can be considered to be sciences in the same manner as the natural sciences) and rejects those approaches that adhere to either strict explanatory or interpretive accounts. Thus Carlsnaes explicitly rejects the Martin Hollis and Steve Smith argument that ‘explanation’ and ‘understanding’ are two irreconcilable approaches to the study of social phenomena (Carlsnaes 2002: 342). Unlike 34â•‡â•‡ C. Wight Wendt, however, Carlsnaes does not turn to Giddens as an answer to the issue because, as he suggests, Wendt ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›is proposing a starting point that at least Giddens’ conceptualisation of structuration theory arguably cannot accommodate’ (Carlsnaes 1992: 258). Carlsnaes’ position on this is derived from Margaret Archer, who had argued that Giddens’ ‘central conflation’, or concept of ‘duality’, precludes the possibility of analysing the empirical interplay between agents and structure over time. In short, ‘central conflation’ rules out the possibility of conducting the kind of ‘historical analysis’ suggested by Wendt, because such a conflation is unable to incorporate the ‘dynamic interplay’ between agents and structures over time. Giddens, argues Carlsnaes: cannot incorporate the notion – quintessentially historical – that structure and action work on different time intervals .â•›.â•›. Giddens’s conception of duality is crucial here .â•›.â•›. his use of this notion leads him to preclude the possibility of analyzing the empirical interplay between action and structure, since the notions of action and structure ontologically presuppose each other .â•›.â•›. [and] the problem with collapsing action into structure and structure into action a la Giddens – of giving neither explanatory autonomy – is that it precludes a realistic possibility of conducting historical analyses along the lines proposed by Wendt. (1992: 258) Carlsnaes attempts to move beyond this impasse and provide a methodological framework that can account for the ‘dynamic synthesis of structural and agential factors in the explanation of change’ (ibid.: 247). Whilst there are clear similarities between Archer’s approach and that of Giddens, she suggests that there is a crucial difference. As she puts it, ‘where they [morphogenesis and structuration theory] differ profoundly is in how they conceptualise .â•›.â•›. the structuring (and restructuring) of social systems’ (Archer 1990: 74). For Archer, what is missing from the ‘structurationist’, approach is the ability to incorporate the distinction between synchronic and diachronic structural and agential effects and/or influences (1985, 1990, 1995). Morphogenesis denotes both the inner and outer form of a ‘thing’ or structure and also a process or developmental aspect of that same ‘thing’ or structure. Hence, claims Archer, ‘morphogenesis is also a process, referring to the complex interchanges that produce change in a system’s given form, structure or state’ (Archer 1990: 75). Such an approach allows for the introduction of an end product, ‘structural elaboration’, which differs from Giddens’ notion of a ‘visible pattern’. For Giddens, these ‘visible patterns’ can best be analysed as recurrent social practices and have, at best, a ‘virtual status’, whereas Archer’s ‘elaborated structure’ has properties which cannot be reduced to practices alone. Archer’s point is that ‘analytical dualisms’ cannot simply, and programmatically, be replaced by a ‘duality’, insofar as socio-Â�cultural systems imply discontinuity between initial interactions and their product – the elaborated structure, or complex system. Hence, the dualisms – voluntarism and determinism, synchrony Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 35 and diachrony, individual and society – Giddens is keen to overcome, are essential elements of social practice and must be theorised. Following Archer, Carlsnaes, suggests that explanations of foreign policy should proceed on the basis of ‘morphogenetic cycles’, which can be analytically broken down into intervals in order to penetrate the dynamic interplay, or relations, between structure and action over time. In this perspective, actions are not only causally affected by structures, but subsequently affect them; indicating a mutually dynamic relationship between the two over time. Such an approach, he concludes, accommodates an institutional qua structural perspective towards foreign policy analysis, whilst at the same time incorporating an interpretive epistemology (Carlsnaes 1992: 267).2 Indeed, Carlsnaes suggests that this approach allows him to combine ‘explanation’ and ‘understanding’ and as such it should be viewed ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›as an attempt to not only resolve the agency–structure issue’ but also a means of providing a ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›metatheoretical foundation for such a methodological reorientation of the field’ (ibid.). This is an ambitious set of claims, but one that is not, I think, without merit. What is important to note here is the explicit acknowledgment by Carlsnaes that the ontological problem of object conceptualisation needs to be separated from the methodological problem of how to study this reconceptualised object. Whilst intuitively a plausible solution to the methodological issue, and one I have advocated myself, Carlsnaes’ use of Archer’s framework is not without its problems. Most importantly are questions surrounding the underlying ontology that grounds morphogenesis. For if it is the case that Giddens’ structuration theory cannot accommodate the historical dimension advocated by Wendt, then what is the underlying ontology that makes it possible? When Archer initially developed her morphogentic approach she claimed that a realist ontology was not a requirement for morphogenesis. Her position on this has now radically changed and she has come to see the necessity, not only of a realist social ontology, but also a realist meta-Â�theoretical framework and metaphysics for morphogenesis.3 To this end, Archer has tied morphogenesis specifically to Bhaskar’s account of social science and attempted to disentangle Bhaskar’s resolution of the agent–structure problem from that Giddens proposed. In effect, Archer now sees Bhaskar’s model of society – the TMSA (Transformational Model of Social Activity) – as a complex social ontology to which is to be wedded to ‘morphogenesis’ as an explanatory social methodology (Archer 1995: 15–16). Of course, writing in 1992 Carlsnaes could not have been expected to anticipate this development in Archer’s thinking given that it only became clear to Archer in 1995. And in many respects he could legitimately claim to have realised this before Archer, since he does at times suggest his work is underpinned by a commitment to scientific realism (Carlsnaes 1992). Nonetheless, without an appropriate reconsideration of an alternative ontology to that proposed by Giddens it is not clear how morphogenesis can be put into practice. This issue becomes most apparent in Carlsnaes’ treatment of agency. Given his commitment to incorporating elements of an interpretive approach into his framework it is important that Carlsnaes has a robust account of agency such that beliefs and 36â•‡â•‡ C. Wight intentions can be allotted a fundamental role. However, despite claiming that his ambition ‘is to put forward a framework for analyzing foreign policy actions in terms of a dynamic account of the ways in which such actions are continually being constrained and enabled by contextually defined structures, and how these in turn are affected by human agency’ (ibid.: 263), he often uses agency to refer to collective social forms, such as the state. Such a move from human agency to social agency might be admissible, but it would require substantial theorising. Wendt recognised this problem and came to argue that states possess the same properties as human individuals; ‘states are people too’ (Wendt 1999: 215–223). It is not clear in Carlsnaes’ treatment of the issue if he would agree with Wendt on this or not. Foreign policy vs international politics The issue of agency is fundamental to Carlsnaes’ understanding of foreign policy analysis. He is adamant that foreign policy belongs in the academic domain of International Relations rather than the policy sciences (Carlsnaes 2002: 331). Moreover, he rejects the view that international politics and foreign policy analysis are two distinct realms of inquiry (ibid.: 332). The idea that international politics and foreign policy are separate realms of inquiry is most forcefully articulated by Kenneth Waltz (1996), although it also accepted by Wendt (1999:Â€11). According to Carlsnaes, the source of this separation of the two domains is the move towards systemic theories that occurred after Waltz published his Theory of International Politics (Carlsnaes 2002: 332). Foreign policy suffered in this structuralist environment because its focus is more on unit level factors driving state behaviour than the system forces advocated by Waltz. Yet, he argues, that following the end of the Cold War there has been a move towards a view of international politics more in line with the basic presuppositions of foreign policy (ibid.). Waltz (1996) had identified five main reasons why a theory of international politics is not and cannot be a theory of foreign policy. The most important of these in relation to Carlsnaes’ position is Waltz’s deep critique of reductionism. IR theory, as Waltz, understands it should be based primarily at the level of the system. As such, systemic theories explain similarities in the behaviour of states, despite varying individual or unit-Â�level properties. Foreign policy, on the other hand relies on unit-Â�level differences among states to explain why they pursue different foreign policies, despite similar structural positions. When viewed from the perspective of the agent–structure problem however, this distinction seems problematic. It is a distinction that only makes sense if a strong structuralist ontology can be defended. Carlsnaes, of course, rejects this structuralist position and embraces an ontology that attempts to give both agents and structures due weight in terms of explanatory power. Hence for Carlsnaes, and as a direct result of his position on the agent structure problem, foreign policy and international politics cannot be separated in any easy manner. Indeed, although not explicitly stated, it must be the case that Carlsnaes would agree with James Fearon who claims: Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 37 There is a straightforward and important sense in which neorealist and other systemic theories are indeed theories of foreign policy. Namely, the things that structural realist theory seeks to explain, such as balancing, the probÂ� ability of major power war, or a general disposition to competitive interstate relations are either foreign policies or the direct (if sometimes unintended) result of foreign policies. .â•›.â•›. In this natural sense, then, systemic and neorealist theories emphatically are theories of foreign policy. (1998: 292–293) Yet this position has implications for any account of the unit-Â�level factors that might help explain foreign policy, and when allied to Carlsanes’ claim to embrace elements of an interpretive epistemology it will require some theoretical location where intentions, beliefs and motivations can be specified. To my mind, this can only logically be achieved at the level of human agents, albeit agents deeply embedded within and constituted by the structural contexts they inhabit. Or, as Carlsnaes himself puts it, ‘action is always a combination of purposive behaviour, cognitive-Â�psychological factors and the various structural phenomena characterising societies and their environments’ (2002: 342). From levels-Â�of-analysis to foreign policy One barrier to such an integrated approach within IR, however, is the level of analysis problem, which is clearly closely related to the ASP. Indeed, at one point during the debate with Hollis and Smith on the ASP Wendt complains that Hollis and Smith ‘reduce the agent–structure problem to one of the levels of analysis’ (Wendt 1992: 181). Carlsnaes’ position on this issue is interesting because it seems that he can only be advocating a position on the level-Â�ofanalysis issue that is very similar to my own; although admittedly he has not articulated this explicitly. In short, I believe Carlsnaes’ position on the agent– structure problem, when combined with his commitment to elements of an interpretive epistemology, and his view of foreign policy, require a fundamental reconfiguration of the levels-Â�of-analysis issue along the lines indicated in my book Agents, Structures and International Relations: Politics as Ontology (2006). There is no doubt that thinking about IR in terms of levels is deeply ingrained in the disciplinary psyche. David Singer’s (1961) influential piece on this issue is rightly considered a landmark in the theoretical development of the discipline.4 According to R.B.J. Walker, this way of thinking about the discipline is ‘all pervasive’ (1993: 131). Moreover, for Walker all talk of levels may be seriously misleading since it implies a vertical ordering of the relations between individuals, states and system, whereas these might be better grasped as horizontal relationships (ibid.: 134). I think, however, that it is possible to defend a vertical yet non-Â� hierarchical (in the sense of an a priori privileging of one level over another) account of levels whilst accepting and expanding on Walker’s horizontal point. In effect, the image we need is one of vertical levels spread horizontally. 38â•‡â•‡ C. Wight Singer takes the behaviour of states as his unit-Â�of-analysis and posits two levels at which explanation of this unit might be based; that of the international system and of the nation state itself. Although Singer suggests only two levels his discussion opens up the possibility of a third level below that of the nation state; that of individuals. Singer’s recognition of a level-Â�of-explanation below that of the nation state is predicated on an unthematised social ontology; a social ontology within which Singer can view individuals as only fulfilling roles defined in terms of state interests. Thus, in an argument that is similar Wendt’s treatment of the state, Singer can argue that ‘nations may be said to be goal-Â� seeking organisms which exhibit purposive behaviour’ (Singer1961: 84–85). Insofar as individuals feature in this approach they can be considered as state agents who resemble ‘cultural dopes’ fulfilling predefined roles in the maintenance of national interests. This is not a position Carlsnaes can embrace given his position on the agent–structure problem. Although Singer only posited two levels, most treatments of the level-Â�ofanalysis problem on the discipline follow Waltz’s three level typology and add extra levels as required (Waltz 1959). Hollis and Smith (1990: 197) provide a good example of how the discipline typically conceives of these levels (see Figure 3.1). On this treatment of the level-Â�of-analysis problem, the levels are related as agents to structures, hence Wendt’s argument that they were conflating the two problems is generally sound. This formulation of the issue forces/allows the relocation of agency at every move up or down the levels, so that what appears as a structure on one level becomes an agent on another. Hence, at what Hollis and Smith call the first debate, the international system plays the role of structure with the nation state as an agent. At the level of the second debate, the nation state appears as a structure with the role of agent now played by bureaucracies. Individuals only appear on this model at the level of the third debate, where bureaucracies now constitute the structure and individuals play the role of agents. What appears as a structure at one level becomes an agent at another level. International system Level of analysis: first debate vs Nation-state Level of analysis: second debate vs Bureaucracy Level of analysis: third debate vs Individual Figure 3.1â•‡ The dominant view of levels in IR. Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 39 Underlying this account is a particular view of what it means to be an agent; an account of agency that is, that can allow that properties and powers attributed to one theoretical entity can be attributed to others. This treatment of the level-Â� of-analysis problem takes the relocation of agency as unproblematic and it cannot be consistent with Carlsnaes’ position on the agent–structure problem. Hence a reconfigured position on the agent–structure problem will require a rethinking of the issue of levels. Nicholas Onuf (1989) has suggested that we treat the levels identified by Singer as ‘levels-Â�of-being’ that require further disaggregating into their component parts (Figure 3.2 should help clarify what I mean here). The first thing to note is that a reformulation of the issue invites us to ask: ‘levels of what?’ Figure 3.2 relates to levels of political organisation, but could be amended to cover other aspects of the social field; legal, economic, social and cultural for example. In each of these examples the form, number and type of the levels may differ since there is no need to assume that one levels scheme fits all. Notice also, that on this understanding of levels there is no need for a distinct individual level beneath that of the state since individuals feature in every level and are tied into their social contexts. The location of individuals at every level is important since it highlights the fact that it is through the differing ‘positioning’ of individuals that the various levels interact. In effect, this way of thinking of the issue links micro and macro phenomena. The levels indicated here are merely suggestive and they should not be understood as an exhaustive typology. The components included in the levels are derived from categories developed by Derek Layder (1994) and are likewise merely meant to be suggestive. What is important to convey is the idea that each and every level includes individuals and some account of their various structural contexts; but also the manner in which these structural contexts are dynamic and interact with each other. Structural contexts are ‘products-Â�in-process’ as well as ‘processes-Â�in-production’. International/global Context Setting Situated activity Self/agent Nation-state Context Setting Situated activity Self/agent Bureaucracies Context Setting Situated activity Self/agent Figure 3.2â•‡ An alternative conceptualisation of levels in IR. 40â•‡â•‡ C. Wight Equally, researchers should feel free to focus their attention on any particular component. As with all such synoptic devices when it comes to their application in concrete research it is a matter of emphasis as to which element has the primary focus. Moreover, it needs to be stressed that the elements of this diagrammatic representation of the realm of international relations shade into and interweave with each other; or what Heikki Patomäki’s refers to as ‘interpenetration’ (1996). This is an important point, for although it may be necessary to give more emphasis to one element, it is vital to understand that they are all bound together in the ongoing flux of social life; hence the pictorial demonstration of a context that all levels share in common. In this respect, part of the context for each of the levels is the other levels. The point is that this kind of selective focusing of research should be seen as deliberate and selective and related to the research question and not as a result of an a priori theoretical tendency to see one aspect as more important than any other. The self, or agent, seems self-Â�evident but must be treated with care. Of course, selves cannot easily be separated from the social situations in which they are routinely embedded and researchers will have hard decisions to make about which aspects of agency to privilege. The powers of human agents to act in the world are derived more from their social positioning than any biological factors they may possess; hence social positionality is internally related to agency. Even though agents are always structurally embedded it is important to distinguish between differing levels of agency since it helps direct attention to the way individuals are empowered, respond to, and are affected by, their social involvements. The notion of self, then, refers to an individual’s sense of identity, personality and perception of the social world as these things are experienced and/or influenced by her, or his, social experience. Selves, however, are ongoing social constructions and we should reject extreme psychological explanations that view the individual as a separate unit possessing a fixed inner core or essence; the human self is socially constitued. Situated activity shifts the focus away from a concern with the individual’s response to various kinds of social situations towards a concern with the dynamics of interaction itself. Such a focus on the dynamics of interaction directs our attention to the manner in which gatherings of, or encounters between, several individuals can tend to produce outcomes and properties that are a result of the interchange of communication between the group as whole rather than the behaviour of the individuals viewed singly. That is to say, situated activity displays emergent properties that are the result of the way in which individuals interact and coalesce and which could never have been predicted through an analysis of the individuals themselves. Thus, there are two aspects of situated activity: first, the involvement of the individuals concerned is such that each occurrence of similar activity will bear the unique imprint of the particular configuration of individuals involved; and, second, the ongoing dynamic nature of the interactional process itself reacts back upon those individuals in unforeseen ways. Thus, for example, a group of diplomats coming together to discuss a particular issue can develop a group identity which helps facilitate, or impede, the outcome of Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 41 the deliberation. A change in membership of the group might dramatically alter the dynamics of the group, but equally if the group identity has become deeply embedded it may be the case that small changes in membership have little or no effect on the group. Setting highlights the manner in way the nature of the setting within which situated activity takes place will make a difference to the manner in which those individuals interact. The incorporation of the setting of situated activity highlights the impossibility of writing out the materiality of the social world or the reduction of it to a dependent variable. A good example of the role of setting in producing outcomes might be that of the Reagan/Gorbachev fireside summit in Geneva 1985. But consider also, the difference between a one-Â�off encounter between diplomatic colleagues in a formal meeting and the interaction between those same colleagues in a social setting such as a restaurant. In both examples, the kind of setting in which such interaction takes place is significant to the activity itself. In this respect, certain activities vary according to the extent to which they tend to be limited to specific settings and specific individuals. Thus, the setting has a set of properties that cannot be reduced to little more than particular patterns of activity. Settings, that is, have a set of properties that are identifiable apart from specific instances of situated activity. However, it is important to stress that these properties are dependent on the more general activities that constitute the setting in the first place and thus setting is linked to context. Context highlights the manner in which selves, situated activity and settings exist within a structurally organised context. For example, the concept of a diplomatic exchange presupposes that there is a larger organisational context that makes diplomatic exchange possible. Moreover, we also assume that this structure would persist irrespective of those particular participants and their specific routines and rituals. That is to say, that if two diplomats, or state leaders, retire, it may be the case that certain routines and rituals might disappear along with them (although perhaps to be replaced by other state leaders who replace them). However, it would also be true to say that organisational structure of the state system remains despite a change in personnel. Whilst settings and situated activity are always and only sustained insofar as they are reproduced and/or transformed by the social activities of agents, from the point of view of specific participants entering these settings, they are experienced as already established forms of organisation, with which they have to contend in various ways. Moreover, all social reproduction and/or transformation takes place under conditions inherited from the past; in effect the logic of morphogenesis. These conditions represent the already established quality of social forms that have been reproduced and/or transformed in the past and which confront new generations of individuals as objective structural contexts which reward certain forms of behaviour and punish others. As such, these structural contexts entail historically embedded forms of power and authority that decisively influence social activity in these settings and contexts. Context, as was the case with self, situated activity and setting has to be viewed as a stratified concept, thus there are many contextual layers. The 42â•‡â•‡ C. Wight Â� gendered nature of state occupations, such as the army, for example, has to be seen in the wider context of gender social relations that locate women in certain kinds of occupation. Moreover, as this example makes clear, the question becomes not one of how to integrate agents and structures into one coherent account, but of how it could ever be possible to consider methodological individualism, or methodological structuralism as viable alternatives. That is, that at certain junctures, it becomes difficult, if not impossible, to separate out the effects of the immediate setting and the more macro variables such as patriarchal power relations, or class relations. Similarly, it is impossible to understand the way in which these wider, macro structures are reproduced over time unless we understand how more micro processes feed into them. In this sense, macro proÂ� cesses feed into activity and in some way make it possible, while the micro activity itself reproduces these wider social relations. In general terms, thinking of the levels in this disaggregated manner will help facilitate research that aims to integrate agents and structures in a manner that is consistent with Carlsnaes’ treatment of the issue. Equally, the reformulated levels-Â�of-analysis problem highlights the erroneous nature of exclusively structural approaches to research that tend to deny or undervalue the importance of agential attributes and the interpretative element of all social analysis. In this regard, structural phenomena make no sense unless they are related to the social activities of individuals who reproduce them over time. Conversely, agential phenomena cannot be fully understood by exclusive reference to their internal dynamics; they have to be seen as conditioned by circumstances inherited from the past, as well as driven by beliefs about potential futures. In other words, agential actions have to be understood in relation to the influence of the structural contexts and settings that provide the wider social context and vice versa as well as in terms of the unfolding structural dynamic that occurs as interaction takes place. Thus, agential and structural contexts are inextricably bound together through the medium of social activity. Moreover, this reconfigured approach to the levels-Â�of-analysis issue avoids the any notion of reification that often accompanies structural theorising. As I have described them structural phenomena are clearly the outcome of human activity and hence the fear of reification is unwarranted and exaggerated. Conclusion Walter Carlsnaes’ contribution to the agent–structure debate is a valuable methodological corrective to the way the issue has been debated thus far. His approach is a sophisticated attempt to provide a methodological counterpoint to the ontological framing of the issue. In going back over these issues however, I have come to recognise something else about Carlsnaes’ approach that I had previously missed. Underpinning all his work in this area is a deep commitment to theoretical and methodological pluralism and a willingness to ensure that those working in IR, and foreign policy, engage in a sincere attempt to understand and take seriously alternative positions. This, I think underpins all his work. He Agency, structure, IR and foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 43 rejects purely individualist or structuralist accounts of social inquiry in favour of an account of the agent–structure relationship that sees both related in an Â�on-Â�going dynamic social process. He also rejects any attempt to set interpretive and explanatory approaches as somehow opposed. And he likewise rejects any attempt to compartmentalise the discipline into separate areas with few links between them. In this respect Carlsnaes is an eclectic and synthesising thinker. Some might find this problematic. I think it should be admired and encouraged. Notes 1 Insofar as social contexts enable some outcomes and constrain others, there are always going to be limits to the forms that emancipation can take. Thus emancipation can only be understood as the transition from an unwanted, unnecessary and oppressive situation to a wanted and/or needed situation (Bhaskar 1989: 6). This puts knowledge, and in particular social scientific knowledge at the heart of any form of emancipatory politics. 2 I am using the term ‘epistemology’ here because it is Carlsnaes’ chosen term and one that resonates in the discipline. However, my own view is that interpretivism is more correctly understood as a methodology (see Wight 2006: 255–289). 3 Archer argues, if the adoption of a realist ontology is the litmus test, I leave it to the reader to apply it to the theory of structuration. It is not really a palm coveted by the morphogenetic perspective, which is based on neo-Â�Kantian rationalist foundations. (1990: 88) Her recognition of the need for a realist social ontology and metaphysical framework forms the rationale behind most of her realist inspired work (Archer 1995, 2000). 4 This typology is normally attributed to Singer (1961), although Singer derived his account largely from Waltz (1959). References Archer, Margaret (1985). Structuration versus morphogenesis. British Journal of Sociology, 33(4), 455–483. Archer, Margaret (1990). Human agency and social structure: A critique of Giddens. In Margaret S. Archer (ed.), Realist social theory: The Morphogenetic approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ashley, Richard. (1984) The poverty of neorealism. International Organization, 38(2), 225–286. Bhaskar, Roy (1986). Scientific realism and human emancipation. London: Verso. Bhaskar, Roy (1989). Reclaiming reality: A critical introduction to contemporary philosophy. London: Verso. Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agent–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 36(3), 245–270. Carlsnaes, Walter (2002). Foreign policy. In W. Carlsnaes, T. Risse-Â�Kappen and B.A. Simmons (eds), Handbook of International Relations (pp. 331–349). London; Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Clark, Jon, Modgil, Celia and Modgil, Sohan (eds) (1990) Anthony Giddens: Consensus and controversy. Basingstoke: Falmer Press. Fearon, James D. (1998). Domestic politics, foreign policy, and theories of international relations. Annual Review of Political Science, 1(1), 289–313. 44â•‡â•‡ C. Wight Hollis, Martin, and Smith, Steve (1990). Explaining and understanding international relations. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Giddens, Anthony (1984). The constitution of society. Cambridge: Polity Press. Layder, Derek (1994). Understanding social theory. London: Sage. Onuf, Nicholas Greenwood (1989). World of our making: Rules and rule in social theory and international relations. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press. Patomäki, Heikki (1996). How to tell better stories about world politics. European Journal of International Relations, 2(1), 105-133. Singer, J. David. (1961). The level-Â�of-analysis problem in international relations. In K. Knorr and S. Verba (eds), The international system: Theoretical essays (pp.Â€ 77–92). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Thompson, Edward P. (1978). The poverty of theory and other essays. London: Merlin Press. Walker, R.B.J. (1993). Inside/Outside: International Relations as political theory. Cambridge Studies in International Relations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Waltz, Kenneth N. (1959). Man the state and war: A theoretical analysis. New York: Columbia University Press. Waltz, Kenneth (1979). Theory of International Politics. Reading, MA: Addison-Â�Wesley. Waltz, Kenneth. (1996). International politics is not foreign policy. Security Studies, 6, 54–57. Wendt, Alexander E. (1987). The agent–structure problem in International Relations theory. International Organization, 41(3), 335–370. Wendt, Alexander (1992). Anarchy is what states make of it: The social construction of power politics. International Organization, 46(2), 391–425. Wendt, Alexander E. (1998). On constitution and causation in international relations. Review of International Studies, 24(Special Issue), 101–117. Wendt, Alexander E. (1999). Social theory of international politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wight, Colin (2006). Agents, structures and international relations: Politics as ontology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 4 Agency, structures and time From atemporal ontologies to explicit geo-Â�historical hypotheses and anticipation of global democracy Heikki Patomäki Introduction Following Richard Ashley’s (1984) and Alexander Wendt’s (1987) seminal contributions, Walter Carlsnaes helped to awaken IR theory from its dogmatic slumber and redirect scholars’ attention to a critical issue in the philosophy of social sciences: what is the relationship between agency and structures? In a series of papers, Carlsnaes (1992, 1993, 1994) discusses the agency–structure problematic in the context of foreign policy analysis. Carlsnaes’ intent to enrich foreign policy analysis through explicating a plausible social ontology (in line with Giddens 1979 and Archer 1985), he (Carlsnaes 1993: 13) talks about the ‘interplay over time which exists between agency and structure’. He argues that decision-Â�makers make choices and, through their actions, take part in theÂ� (re)production of structures the results of which, in turn, enable and constrain their subsequent actions. Furthermore, Carlsnaes stresses the importance of historical time for understanding foreign policy: ‘since neither structures nor actors remain constant over time, a social theory worth its salt must be able to account not only for particular changes but also for social change itself as an inherently dynamic phenomenon’ (1992: 246). In this chapter, I explore further the temporality of agency and structures. Carlsnaes’ Giddensian and Archerian social ontology presupposes that actors are self-Â�consciously knowledgeable social beings producing and reproducing society on the basis of practical reason. I agree with this assumption. However, we should not take knowledgeable and capable actors as given but study the geo-Â� historical conditions for their existence. It is possible to gain new insights into the nature and transformative possibilities of agency and structures by asking this deceptively simple question: when and how did the powers and liabilities now associated with agency emerge? Evidence suggests that the capacity to reflect upon and choose self-Â� consciously between alternative courses of action, by means of complex metaphors of time and self, developed alongside with complex society. This process can be best understood as collective learning. There is no reason to assume that human learning would have come to an end. Learning is an on-Â�going process. By studying the logic of collective learning, it is possible to anticipate future 46â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki forms of agency, power and authority in world politics. I conclude by outlining a few hypotheses about possible and likely planetary transformations of social beings and relations in the course of the twenty-Â�first century, and beyond. Historicising social ontology Giddens (1979: 64) defines structures as ‘structural properties [.â•›.â•›.â•›which] can be understood as rules and resources’. He recognises the existence of: (i) knowledge – as memory traces – of ‘how things are to be done’ on the part of social actors (i.e. actors must be competent); (ii) social (and positioned) practices organised through the recursive mobilisation of that knowledge; and (iii) the transformative capabilities, i.e. power, that the production of those practices presupposes. Although Archer (1985; see also 1995) criticises Giddens for conflating agents and structures, her morphogenetic approach, too, presupposes knowledgeable and competent actors. Carlsnaes draws on these two approaches and applies them to foreign policy analysis. In a parallel manner, I have (Patomäki 1991, 1996, 2002) specified the essential components of social world by developing the notion of causal complex, involving 1 2 3 4 5 historically constructed and positioned corporeal actors (AR); meaningful, historically structured, and reasoned actions (AN); regulative and constitutive rules implicated in every action and constitution of actors (RU); resources as competencies and facilities (RE); and relational and positioned practices (PRA). Causal complex K = {AR, RU, RE, PRA, AN} is an internally and externally related and open-Â�systemic whole. However, a key problem with all these conceptualisations of agency structures is that while the substance of the elements is understood as historical, the historicity of the elements themselves is left at least partly implicit. This is true even when it is acknowledged that in order to grasp thoroughly the relationship between action and structures it is not possible to stay at a metaâ•‚level. ‘No general, transhistorical or purely philosophical resolution of these problems is possible’ (Bhaskar 1983: 87). Modes of social agency and types of action are historically generated. However, where do the competent, knowledgeable, rule-Â�following but also improvising actors, who have the self-Â� reflective capacity to do otherwise, come from? Are these capacities universal human powers, part of our species-Â�being? Precisely what kinds of powers do social agency and actions presuppose? First, actors must be capable of assuming causal, moral and legal responsibility for their actions. In order to take responsibility and to be knowingly able to act otherwise, there must be reflective consciousness capable of remembering and interpreting the past and anticipating the future. Second, the power to reflect upon non-Â�actual action possibilities implies that actors are capable of thinking abstractly, i.e. that they can reason in terms of complex metaphors (cf. Lakoff Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 47 and Johnson 1999). Third, with the help of metaphors, actors can imagine an ‘I’ and self that can move about within spatialised time; or they can fix their self and see time as something that flows. Spatialised time can be linear and abstract, rather than just cyclical and tied to repetitive natural rhythms, making future-Â� oriented reflectivity possible. When and how did these human powers (Harré and Secord 1972) emerge? In the light of available evidence, it is striking how slowly the human genetic potential resulted in new cultural achievements. Anatomically modern humans first appeared in Sub-Â�Saharan Africa roughly 200,000 years ago. In the next 190,000 years, our African ancestors and their Eurasian, Australian and American offspring did not leave any traces of history, religion, arts, architecture, science or philosophy. For most of this time, the way of life of homo (sapiens) sapiens seems to have been similar to its human predecessors. It continued to use roughly made stone weapons and tools but otherwise to live in nature, following a biologically determined way of life, with hardly any signs of cultural or technical changes. How can we explain the gradual shift from biological to the much more rapid cultural pace of time? Clearly, although the genetic constitution of homo sapiens was necessary for what was to come, it was insufficient for the rapid release of the potential for human creativity and all those things we associate with human culture. The process of development was slow and fragile and must have involved something other than genes. But what else could have played a role? Julian Jaynes’ (2000; also Kuijsten 2006) theory of the development of human consciousness provides a plausible explanation of the gradual shift from biological to cultural time. Jaynes’ theory is based on the systematic assessment of the available archaeological and written evidence. Jaynes argues that the key to full human capabilities lies in the development of language. The first humans in Africa did not have complex verbal language, although – like other hominids before them – they could sustain various techniques and social expectations with a combination of imitation, visual images, body language, facial expressions and oral sounds and signals. The development of language was very slow (in terms of cultural-Â�historical scales of time) but started, step by step, to accelerate.1 Each new stage of linguistic learning created new perceptions and attentions, resulting in important cultural changes, which are reflected in the available archaeological record. Full sentences became possible probably sometime between 25,000 and 15,000 B.C.E. The first cave paintings of animals paralleled the appearance of nouns for animals; people can imagine and draw something for which they have a concept. The thing-Â�nouns begot new things such as pottery, pendants, ornaments and barbed harpoons and spearheads. The new functions of language and gradual acceleration of cultural learning also transformed the human brain – the brain is a highly connected and interconnected organ, in which connections and their activations are constantly shifting – and thus evolved the language hemispheres in human brain. Jaynes (2000: 134) maintains that language had important side effects. With complex oral language 48â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki humans can continue activities over time and concentrate on working on something; clearly a benefit for survival and likely cause of population growth among those groups that adopted complex language. Moreover, once nouns were carried over to names of individuals who could be remembered and thus also missed also when they were absent and also after they had died. This cultural innovation led to the increasingly common practice of ceremonial graves from 10,000â•›bce onwards. On the other hand, there was yet no subject or self that could sustain enduring activities by conscious effort. Rather, commands and memories coming from within the individual resembled what we would today call verbal hallucinations. Because of the development of language, people started to hear ‘external’ voices telling them what to do. Jaynes claims that this phenomenon also had a physiological basis. The language involved only one side of the brain in order to leave the other side free for the language of these voices, or gods, as humans came to think of them. The bicameral mind enabled a form of social control that made it possible for humans to establish a complex society and move from small hunter-Â� gatherer groups to large agricultural communities. Hence, with the development of bicameral mind, agricultural civilisations became possible, although the materialisation of this possibility was a slow and contingent process (see Jaynes 2000, Chs 4 and 5; and on the economics of early farming, Diamond 1999, 104–113). Auditory hallucinations involved the voice of the leader of the community – the chief or king – also in his absence, including after his death. This explains why people treated their dead kings as if they were still living for a long period after they died; later the decaying or mummified bodies were replaced with functionally similar posts and statues. The resulting hierarchical civilisations were literally built around god-Â�houses visible to everyone in the village or town. This meant increased division of labour, efficiency and in effect also population growth that was rapid when compared to earlier eras. While from 70,000–10,000â•›bce, human population had grown very slowly from perhaps mere 20,000 to something like one million, by the year 5000â•›bce, the number of humans had suddenly grown to five million and there were a few towns numbering a few thousand inhabitants each. In 2000â•›bce world population was already at 27 million and major cities had emerged; for example Lagash (80,000), Memphis (50,000), Uruk (50,000), Harappa (50,000) and Mohenjo-Â� Daro (50,000). A new level of complexity and social learning was reached. The emergent human civilisations invented or adopted writing, money and mathematics, and engaged in gift-Â�exchange, trade and wars with other communities, thus gradually paving the way to the burst of reflective consciousness. It is around this time that the capacity to articulate one’s own individual plans of action assumed such a level as to make rudimentary forms of individual moral/legal responsibility possible. With the Code of Hammurabi (c.1760â•›bce) and similar codes of law in the Near East, the general principle of justice was born as a rudimentary moral accounting of equivalents (an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth). The emergence of writing had far-Â�reaching consequences: Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 49 The [role] of writing in the breakdown of the bicameral voices is tremendously important. What had to be spoken is now silent and carved upon a stone to be taken in visually. (Jaynes 2000: 302)2 Reflective consciousness and all its consequences occur through language, especially through written language and metaphors, which make abstract thinking, linear narratisation and self-Â�reflection possible. At the dawn of the reflective consciousness, in the early first millennium bce, bodily things such as breath, blood, lungs, heart and head were turned into metaphors and started to denote psyche, spirit, soul, life, emotions, intelligence and self. The repertoire of simple affects that we share with other mammals was transformed into complex human emotions: fear became anxiety, shame was translated into guilt and mating was turned into sex. These and many other conscious emotions were made possible by analogues and metaphors, which were subsequently used to debate and theorise justice, goodness, morality, emotions and the meaning of human existence. According to Jaynes (2000: 65–66; cf. Lakoff and Johnson 1999: 139–161, 235–289), metaphor generates consciousness by creating a space in which the ‘I’ can move and ‘do’ things that we are not actually doing, constructs the ‘me’ that we can imagine and see doing things that we may or may not be actually doing; and tell stories where the ‘I’ and ‘me’ moves in spatialised time. The spatialised time, in which events and experiences can now be located, remembered and anticipated, makes also social agency, morality, law and politics possibility. Actors know that they can act otherwise and thus become reflective (even reflexive) about some of their doings. They can also learn that others may be equally conscious beings. Once they have fully learnt this, however, it then becomes difficult to imagine a succession of thousands of generations of genetically indistinguishable human beings without consciousness in the reflective sense of the term. Individual and collective learning In order to become competent and knowledgeable actors, each biological individual has to learn, in a very short period of time, many of those things that it took such a long time for humanity as a whole to develop. In The Language and Thought of the Child, Piaget (2002) explores how children progressively enrich their understanding of things by acting on and reflecting on the effects of their own previous knowledge. On the basis of their practical actions and reflective experiences, they are capable of organising their knowledge in increasingly complex and abstract structures. Piaget (2002: 240–241, 272–286) argues that the sequence of cognitive stages is conceptual-Â�logical rather than just empirically correct, which also explains the spontaneity of reaching higher stages in sufficiently enabling context. The child learns by engaging in imitation and playing for their own sake, at first monologically and ego-Â�centrically (for Piaget, the child’s egocentrism is an illusion of perspective that stems from the incapacity to 50â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki differentiate one’s self, others and external world). Communication for instru-Â� mental reasons – for instance to get something the child wants – remains limited and is often subsumed under magical discourse and hallucinatory experiences in which words substitute for reality. In this sense, every child seems to go through a phase that is reminiscent of the bicameral-Â�mind stage of the past civilizations.3 Gradually, with advancements towards more complex and abstract thinking, it becomes possible for a child to assume the perspective of others and have genuine dialogue with them. At the same time, his or her capacity to differentiate between things, categories and aspects of reality increases; and also causal why-Â�questions become possible. As the child starts to communicate his or her thoughts to other people, and listen to others, an individual person emerges from the process of learning through actions and language (for Piaget, action usually comes before reflective thought4), following the order of logically sequential cognitive stages. In his 1932 book, The Moral Judgment of the Child (1977), Piaget applies similar ideas to moral learning. How do children form ideas about right and wrong, and fair and unfair? According to Piaget, the essential aspect of morality is the tendency to accept and follow a system of rules which regulate interpersonal behaviour. Piaget (ibid.: 23) studied these questions empirically and concluded that there are three major stages of the practice of rules in children’s games such as marbles. In the egocentric stage children do not grasp or follow the rules, but insist that they do (each plays his own parallel game even when they play ‘together’). In the stage of incipient cooperation, mastery of the rules has improved and rule-Â�following has become a practice, but as the rules are grasped incompletely, there are often difficulties and conflicts. Finally, in the stage of genuine cooperation and codification of rules, children not only know the rules well but also enjoy reflecting and elaborating upon them. The collective rule is at first something external to the individual and consequently sacred to him; then, as he gradually makes it his own, it comes to that extent be felt as the free product of mutual agreement and an autoÂ� nomous conscience. And with regard to the practical use, it is only natural that a mystical respect for laws should be accompanied by a rudimentary knowledge and application of their contents, while a rational and well-Â�founded respect is accompanied by an effective application of each rule in detail. (ibid.: 24–25) In the earlier stages children’s moral judgements are based on the objective external consequences of actions, independently of intentions and circumstances. At the same time, rules are taken literally and authoritatively. With advancements towards more differentiated and cooperative thinking, children start to understand others’ intentions and their relevance, and be capable of distinguishing the spirit or purpose of a rule from its literal meaning (ibid.: 68–69). In the democratic Switzerland of the 1920s and 1930s, children learnt, by theÂ€age of 12–13, that law emanates ‘from the sovereign people and no longer Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 51 [mystically from the God or] from the tradition by the Elders’ (ibid.: 67). These children had realised that people are autonomous and can revise their own rules and laws; and that the purpose of rules and laws is to enable mutually enjoyable and beneficial co-Â�operation and to avoid and resolve social conflicts. Piaget (ibid.: 71, 194, 219, 257) stressed, however, that various stages of reasoning always overlap both in individuals and society. Like older children, adults, too, often practice lower stages moral reasoning and make underdeveloped moral judgements, often to conform to authority and institutional expectations. Stages of advancement? The agency–structure problematic seems to open up the Pandora’s box of thinking about human history in terms of stages of advancement. Most social scientists and philosophers avoid explicit theorisation of collective advancement, except in relativistic terms, or in local scales of time. Notions such as universal moral learning, cultural evolution, and ethico-Â�political progress have been widely seen as dubious at best – and potentially dangerous. Already the founders of sociology such as Emile Durkheim, Max Weber and Edward Westermarck tended to reduce values to culturally conditioned instinctive emotions, historical traditions, or particular social formations. Although in practice remaining ambivalent and even positive about the moral worth of modernisation, they verged on denying the possibility of collective ethico-Â�political learning.5 Anthropologists have been especially vocal in their opposition to the idea of universal stages of moral learning, an idea they have associated with the ‘white man’s burden’, ‘civilizing mission’ and other nineteenth-Â�century ideologies of imperialism. The self-Â�inflicted horrors of the First World War degraded the moral status of the West and made cultural and moral relativism popular among intellectuals and, in particular, anthropologists (who were also responding to the particular problems of the US society).6 Moreover, the ensuing catastrophes of the twentieth century, including Stalin’s purges, deepened the sense of nihilism among leftist social theorists especially in Europe. Theodor Adorno’s and Max Horkheimer’s (1979) pessimistic criticism of the Enlightenment legacy; Karl Popper’s (1960) widely read liberal attack on historicism and Marxism; and Michel Foucault’s (1984, 2001) sceptical studies on truth, normality and power strengthened the conviction that – as Jean-Â�Francois Lyotard (1984: 37) put it – the grand emancipatory narrative has lost its credibility. When pressed, few sceptics of cultural evolution or progress would deny that the Rawlsian notion of justice (or any relevant twentieth-Â�century conception) is not only more sophisticated and complex but also better than the one codified in the Code of Hammurabi. Yet most critical social scientists and philosophers seem reluctant to theorise collective human learning, cultural evolution and moral progress. But there have been exceptions. Building on Piaget’s work, as well as on Socrates, Kant and Dewey, Â�Kohlberg’s 3â•›×â•›2 stages were first outlined in his 1958 doctoral dissertation.7 They were further refined over a twenty-Â�year period of empirical research and 52â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki verification, including a large amount of cross-Â�cultural research that went beyond Piaget’s rather limited setting of empirical observations. Kohlberg died in 1987, but subsequent research has confirmed, method-Â�independently, the existence of common scheme of development of cognitive and moral reasoning and judgement, and related social perspective-Â�taking, across a variety of cultural and politico-Â�economic contexts (Boom et al. 2007; Dawson 2002; Gibbs et al. 2007; see also Robinson 2007). The contents of moral reasoning are culturally specific and contextual, but the stages of cognitive-Â�conceptual schemes are universal. These studies show the existing potential for human reasoning and judgements, not their role in actual practices.8 For a political scientist, ethico-Â�political judgements and principles are especially interesting. According to Kohlberg (1971, 1973), they are human constructions, but are in no way arbitrary. Rather they make increasingly more generalisable, differentiated and ‘equilibriated’ solutions possible. At stage (1) humans can only obey the powerful and claim simple rewards and retributive justice. At stage (2) reasoning is hedonistic and takes into account, in addition to authoritarian stage one considerations, only limited forms of reciprocity. Stage (3) actors are explicitly moral, but mostly only in a sense of recognising morality as conformity to the prevailing expectations. Stage (3) actors are, however, capable of differentiating between intentions and results of actions and, for instance, do not anymore demand punishments for non-Â�intentional actions or outcomes. Stage (4) is a step more abstract and general, based on the explicit recognition of the value of the community, its relations of authority, and one’s duty to it. However, pure stage (4) does not enable law-Â�making in any rational sense as there are no extra-Â�conventional reasons to draw on. At stage (5), utilitarian and contractual considerations become possible, and finally at stage (6), right is defined by the decision of conscience in accord with the self-Â�chosen ethical principles. Stage (6) corresponds to the Rawlsian principles of democratic justice. Jürgen Habermas (1979) has built on Kohlberg and added a seventh level. When Habermas first proposed a new stage (7) to complement Kohlberg’s account of moral learning, he was responding to a major problem of Kantian ethics. Kant’s categorical imperative denies the relevance of ego and its needs, emotions, interests and happiness to morality. It demands the submission of ego to whatever commands cognitive reason may generate. It also sees the categorical imperative in monological terms, thus denying any need for an intersubjective dialogue about moral rules and principles. On the basis of his criticism of monological reasoning, Habermas formulates the basic principles of discourse ethics, including ‘only those norms can claim to be valid that meet (or could meet) with the approval of all affected in their capacity as participants in a practical discourse’ (Habermas 1990a: 197). Further, Habermas argues that what is also required for a successful normative discourse is openness to learning. ‘Even those interpretations in which the individual identifies needs that are most peculiarly her own are open to a revision process’ (Habermas 1990b: 49). This openness notwithstanding, no-Â�one can replace individual’s own assessment of normative validity. Habermas also maintains that successful normative discourse Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 53 requires some minimal solidarity, i.e. concern for others’ welfare and empathy for their situation. Universal discourse ethics is thus entwined with the basics of ethics of care; and, by implication, it must also presuppose something akin to Rawls’ difference principle in order to sustain the socio-Â�economic and educational preconditions for free discourse. Habermas (1979: 89) argues that while stage (5) still somehow manages to limit applicability to legal associates (citizens of a state), at stage (6) the domain of validity of ethico-Â�political principles must include all humans at least as private persons. At the discourse-Â�ethical stage (7) all human beings are seen as members of an imagined world society, as world citizens. Thus cognitive stages (6) and (7) and stages beyond9 imply cosmopolitan principles of inclusion. While Kant still wanted to limit the public rights of world citizens to hospitality, his categorical imperative did not stop at state-Â�borders; for Kant, moral reasoning concerns all human beings. In discourse ethics, the all in ‘only those norms can claim to be valid that meet (or could meet) with the approval of all affected in their capacity as participants in a practical discourse’ refers potentially to every human being, depending of course also on who in fact affected. Similarly, Bhaskar’s (1994) principle ‘free flourishing of each is the condition of free flourishing of all’ is universalist and cosmopolitan. Consistent stages (6) and (7) reasoning thus question the moral relevance of state-Â�borders and other partitions, and anticipate a future planetary society. This is a conceptual-Â�logical consequence of moving to higher stages. Higher stage reasoning is both more differentiated (implying a nuanced understanding of social and cultural realities) and more integrated (implying symmetry and consistence) than prior stages. Therefore, further learning at the critical-Â�reflective stage implies cosmopolitanism. From stage (6) onwards, moral principles must concern universally all of humanity, for otherwise the symmetry and consistence of those principles would be undermined, or directly violated. Conclusion: in anticipation of a planetary ethico-Â�political community Social structures are concept- and action-Â�dependent. Society is both the ever-Â� present condition and the continually reproduced outcome of human agency (see Bhaskar 1979: 43). The mechanism generating the outcome that internal relations, social practices and systems transcend time, place and, also, the biological existence of human beings, is language, communication and learning. The actions of several actors are linked to one another by means of the enabling and regulative mechanism of reaching understanding. (cf. Habermas 1984: 274–275). This indicates that the structures of individual and collective learning are homologous and intertwined; yet they are not the same. The mechanisms and processes of collective learning through institutional transformations are dissimilar from those of the growth of an individual (cf. Habermas 1979: 102–103). The complications of institutional changes notwithstanding, involving relations of direct and structural power and many other conditions, actors’ further 54â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki advances in learning tend to change the social context. Knowledgeable and competent actors are not genetically determined beings, but results of a slow shift from predominantly biological to increasingly cultural time. Actors’ construction follows the conceptual and practical logic inherent in human culture. Complex language has not only made agency possible but also facilitated further stages of learning, gradually changing the prevailing types of action and modes of agency. This process is of course contingent upon many particular geo-Â� historical conditions and, therefore, temporary and contextual reversals are clearly possible, but as a real tendency, collective learning is moving us towards a cosmopolitan direction. From a future-Â�oriented perspective in world politics, foreign policy-Â�making is thus unlikely to remain the central focus of agency– structure dialectics. Rather, my analysis suggests that the shape of things to come will be determined in struggles over establishing global-Â�democratic public spheres and institutions. Notes 1 Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner (2002: 171–177) claim that there is no evidence of a gradual evolutionary development of language: ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›we can point to no simple languages, or even ones that are simpler than oursâ•›.â•›.â•›.; we have no evidence of intermediate, simpler forms of language’. First, there is now evidence for such a language; see Everett (2008). Second, developments in language are highly contagious through learning. Over a few thousands of years, linguistic and grammatical innovations can easily move across Eurasia and Africa. Whereas the gradual development of complex verbal language seems to have taken tens of thousands of years. Third, because linguistic complexity enabled new techniques and forms of cooperation, human population growth has concentrated almost exclusively in those groups that have successfully adopted complex verbal language (while many other groups may have faced physical extinction or cultural conversion or adoption). Fourth, because the stages of learning are logically and conceptually connected, there is no reason why a group of humans isolated from the rest since, say, 40,000â•›bce would not have made some progress on its own (e.g. aboriginals of Australia). No part of humanity has been isolated for more than 40,000 years; and we should only expect the isolated groups to have developed more slowly, not to lack all progress. 2 This is not only compatible with Jacques Derrida’s (1997) ‘science of grammatology’ but also gives it historical substance. Derrida maintains that our self-Â�conscious existence is possible only because of language and, more precisely (arch-) writing. Writing comes before subjectivity. What many political theories such as liberalism take for granted – self-Â�conscious individual actors – is an effect of language/writing. The formative context for consciousness and subjectivity evolved from the time-Â�consuming process of gradual cognitive and related technical (and later also artistic) developments in the long pre-Â�history of homo sapiens. 3 To what extent would it be possible to explain some of the phenomena Jaynes links with the special effects of the ‘bicameral mind’ in ordinary cognitive terms? Piaget (1977: 104–189) maintains that egocentrism, as a cognitive illusion of perspective and related incapacity to distinguish properly between self, community/society and nature, is essentially connected with heteronomy, which involves a literal/‘realist’ respect for the authority of the rules and their reified origin. It is true that – just like children hallucinate in contemporary societies – many ancient people did, and some contemporary people do, hallucinate ancestors and gods. Nonetheless, perhaps the hierarchical structures of these societies can be explained, to a degree, in terms of egocentric stage of Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 55 reasoning, rather than in terms of particular structuration of the brain? As Piaget (129) writes, at the egocentric stage ‘[.â•›.â•›.â•›rules] acquire the value of ritual necessities, and the forbidden things take on the significance of taboos. Moral realism would thus seem to be the fruit of constraint and of the primitive forms of unilateral respect.’ Similarly, ‘dreams, for example, even when the child already knows that they are deceptive, are, till about 7–8, systematically considered as an objective reality’ (180). 4 ‘We have often noted that in the intellectual field the child’s verbal thinking consists of a progressive coming into consciousness, or conscious realization, of schemas that have been built up by action. In such cases verbal thought simply lags behind concrete thought, since the former has to reconstruct symbolically, and on a new plane operations that have already taken place on the preceding level’ (Piaget 1977: 112). 5 Despite his social relativism about values, Durkheim argued that moral and legal individualism is uniquely suitable to modern conditions of social solidarity, thus presuming both linear history and historical inevitability in a sense that comes close to the standard modernisation thesis (Cotterrell 1999: Chs 7–9). Weber maintained that ultimate values are arbitrary and modern individuals can see the tragedy of this irreversible condition of humanity living in a godless and disenchanted world (Lassman 2004: 256–261); yet Weber also theorised world-Â�historical rationalisation, especially on its technical, institutional and voluntaristic dimensions, implying western superiority (Blaut 2000: 19–30). In a like manner, Westermarck believed simultaneously in (1) relativist emotivism and (2) progress understood as an increasingly logical-Â�reflective attitude towards moral rules and principles (Swabey 1942). 6 This used to be the constitutive idea of anthropology since the founding works of Franz Boas and others until the late twentieth century. It was articulated knowingly against the imperialist policies of European and North American states and against the attitudes prevailing in those state/societies. Michael E. Brown (2008) argues, however, that since the late 1980s most anthropologists have been trying to reconcile cultural relativism with universal human rights and other normative notions, rather than adhering to relativism. 7 Kohlberg’s stages should be understood as revisable models about the conceptual-Â� logical sequence of learning normative rules and principles, subsequently more adequate for enabling co-Â�operation and resolving conflicts. Models of stages of learning are double-Â�hermeneutical in two ways. At the first level, these models concern a pre-Â� interpreted world of lay meanings and can be, in part, checked against them; and second, they are necessarily moving between abstract normative theories of morality, justice and democracy, each of which enables one to perceive somewhat different things. 8 This is the criticism of Dennis L. Krebs and Kathy Denton (2006) of some of the recent studies confirming Kohlberg’s theory of moral stages. This criticism is pertinent only to the extent that Kohlberg’s stages are taken to determine actual conduct in social practices and institutions rather than indicate learning and cognitive capacity for moral reasoning and judgement. 9 In contrast to Habermas, Karl-Â�Otto Apel (1978: 82–84) starts his normative theorising from the late twentieth-Â�century global conditions of overpopulation, shortage of energy resources, ecological crisis, including global warming and ‘the enormous enlargement of the risks involved in human activities and conflicts’. On that basis Apel (1991, 1992, 2001) articulates a new philosophically grounded political ethics, what he calls ‘planetary macroethics’. Arguably, it is a new, higher stage in the cultural evolution of humankind, corresponding to requirements of a common and joint responsibility for the global consequences of human activities (Apel 1991: 261). Apel’s planetary macroethics is built on stage-Â�7 discourse ethics but goes beyond in its eco-Â�planetary future-Â� orientation. In addition, further levels are also possible, as indicated by Kohlberg’s (1981: 311–372) reflections on a cosmic perspective and how it can ultimately ground ethics and give life a meaning. 56â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki References Adorno, Theodor and Horkheimer, Max (1979). Dialectic of Enlightenment (translated by J. Cumming). London: Verso (original work published 1944). Apel, Karl-Â�Otto (1978). The conflicts of our time and the problems of political ethics. In F. Dallmayr (ed.), From contract to community: Political theory at the crossroads (pp.Â€81–101). New York: Dekker. Apel, Karl-Â�Otto (1991). A planetary macroethics for humankind: The need, the apparent difficulty, and the eventual possibility. In E. Deutsch (ed.), Culture and modernity: East– West philosophic perspectives (pp.Â€261–278). Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Apel, Karl-Â�Otto (1992). The ecological crisis as a problem for discourse ethics. In A.Øfsti (ed.), Ecology and ethics: A report from the Melbu conference, 18–23 July 1990 (pp.Â€219–260). Rondheim: Nordland Akademi for Kunst og Vitenskap. Apel, Karl-Â�Otto (2001). The response of discourse ethics to the moral challenge of the human situation as such and especially today. Leuven: Peeters. Archer, Margaret (1985). Structuration vs. morphogenesis. In S.N. Eisenstadt and H.J. Helle (eds), Macro-Â�sociological theory: Perspectives on sociological theory (Vol. 1). London: Sage. Archer, Margaret (1995). Realist social theory: The morphogenetic approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ashley, Richard (1984). The poverty of neorealism, International Organization, 38(2), 225–286. Bhaskar, Roy (1979). The possibility of naturalism: A philosophical critique of contemporary human sciences. Brighton: Harvester Press. Bhaskar, Roy (1983). Beef, structure and place: Notes from a critical naturalist perspective. Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour, 13,Â€82–95. Bhaskar, Roy (1994). Plato etc: The problems of philosophy and their resolution. London: Verso. Blaut, J.M. (2000). Eight Eurocentric historians. New York: Guilford Press. Boom, Jan, Wouters, Hans and Keller, Monika (2007). A cross-Â�cultural validation of stage development: A rasch re-Â�analysis of longitudinal socio-Â�moral reasoning data. Cognitive Development, 22, 213–229. Brown, Michael F. (2008). Cultural relativism 2.0. Current Anthropology, 49(3),Â€363–383. Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 36(1),Â€245–270. Carlsnaes, Walter (1993). On analysing the dynamics of foreign policy change: A critique and reconceptualization. Cooperation and Conflict, 28(5),Â€5–30. Carlsnaes, Walter (1994). In lieu of a conclusion: Compatibility and the agency–structure issue in foreign policy analysis. In W. Carlsnaes and S. Smith (eds), European foreign policy: The EC and changing perspectives in Europe (pp.Â€274–287). London: Sage, Cotterrell, Roger (1999). Emile Durkheim: Law in a moral domain. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Dawson, Theo Linda (2002). New tools, new insights: Kohlberg’s moral judgement stages revisited. International Journal of Behavioural Development, 26(2), 154–166. Derrida, Jacques (1997). Of grammatology, revised edition (translated by G. Spivak). Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Diamond, Jared (1999). Guns, germs, and steel: The fates of human societies. New York: W.W. Norton. Agency, structures and timeâ•‡â•‡ 57 Everett, Daniel (2008). Don’t sleep, there are snakes: Life and language in the Amazonian jungle. London: Profile Books. Fauconnier, Gilles and Turner, Mark (2002). The way we think: Conceptual blending and the mind’s hidden complexities. New York: Basic Books. Foucault, Michel (1984). Nietzsche, genealogy, history (translated by D. Bouchard and S. Simon). In P. Rabinow (ed.), The Foucault reader (pp.Â€76–100). London: Penguin. Foucault, Michel (2001). Madness and civilization (translated by D. Cooper). London: Routledge (original work published 1961). Gibbs, John C., Basinger, Karen S., Grime, Rebecca L. and Snarey, John R. (2007). Moral judgment development across cultures: Revisiting Kohlberg’s universality claims. Developmental Review, 27,Â€443–500. Giddens, Anthony (1979). Central problems in social theory. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Habermas, Jürgen (1979). Communication and the evolution of society (translated by T. McCarthy). Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Habermas, Jürgen (1984). The theory of communicative action, Vol. 1 (translated by T. McCarthy). London: Heinemann. Habermas, Jürgen (1990a). Moral consciousness and communicative action (translated by C. Lenhardt and S. Weber Nicholsen). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Habermas, Jürgen (1990b). Justice and solidarity: On the discussions concerning Stage 6. In M. Kelly (ed.), Hermeneutics and critical theory in ethics and politics (pp.Â€32–52). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Harré, Rom and Secord, P. (1972). The explanation of social behaviour. Oxford: Blackwell. Jaynes, Julian (2000). The origin of consciousness in the breakdown of the bicameral mind. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Kohlberg, Lawrence (1971). From Is to Ought: How to commit the Naturalistic Fallacy and get away with it in the study of moral development’. In T. Mischel (ed.), Cognitive Development and Epistemology (pp.Â€151–235). New York: Academic Press. Kohlberg, Lawrence (1973). The claim to moral adequacy of a highest stage of moral judgment. Journal of Philosophy, 70(18), 630–646. Kohlberg, Lawrence (1981). The philosophy of moral development: Moral stages and the idea of justice. Essays on moral development, Vol. 1. San Francisco, CA: Harper & Row. Krebs, Dennis L. and Denton, Kathy (2006). Explanatory limitations of cognitive-Â� developmental approaches to morality. Psychological Review, 113(3),Â€672–675. Kuijsten, Marcel (ed.). (2006). Reflections on the dawn of consciousness: Julian Jaynes’s Bicameral Mind Theory revisited. Henderson, NV: Julian Jaynes Society. Lakoff, George and Johnson, Mark (1999). Philosophy in the flesh. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Lassman, Peter (2004). Political theory in an age of disenchantment. Max Weber Studies, 4(2),Â€253–271. Lyotard, Jean-Â�François (1984). The postmodern condition: A report on knowledge (translated by G. Bennington and B. Massumi). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Patomäki, Heikki (1991). Concepts of ‘action’, ‘structure’ and ‘power’ in ‘critical social realism’: A positive and reconnstructive critique. Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour, 21(2),Â€221–250. Patomäki, Heikki (1996). How to tell better stories about world politics? European Journal of International Relations, 2(1), 105–133. 58â•‡â•‡ H. Patomäki Patomäki, Heikki (2002). After International Relations: Critical realism and the (re)construction of world politics. London: Routledge. Piaget, Jean (1977). The moral judgement of the child (translated by M. Gabain). Harmondsworth: Penguin (original work published 1932). Piaget, Jean (2002). The language and thought of the child (translated by M. and R. Gabain). London: Routledge (original work published 1923). Popper, Karl (1960). The poverty of historicism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Robinson, Paul H. (2007). The origins of shared institutions of justice. Vanderbilt Law Review, 60(6),Â€1633–1688. Swabey, William C. (1942). Westermarckian relativity. Ethics, 52 (2), 222–230. Wendt, Alexander (1987). The agent–structure problem in international relations theory. International Organization, 41(3),Â€335–370. 5 Theories, truisms and tools in international relations Kjell Goldmann In this chapter I shall argue first that leading theorists of power in international relations qualify their theories so as to render their assertions near-Â�truistic, second that we are more likely to go wrong in the future-Â�oriented analysis of foreign policy by limiting ourselves to such theory than by avoiding theory altogether, but third that other kinds of theoretical tools are useful for the exploration of international relations and foreign policy, including both pre-Â�theory in the sense of eclectic frameworks of analysis and meta-Â�theory in the sense of theory about pre-Â�theory. The theory of international power By 1898 Eduard Bernstein had concluded that Marx would be better served by revising his theory than by stretching it to explain everything. Developments in Europe had proven to be the opposite of what the theory of historical materialism had predicted, but this, Bernstein argued, did not mean that Marx had been wrong. When a new theory is proposed it is necessary to exaggerate and be one-Â� sided, but ‘of course’ Marx had not overlooked the role of politics and ideology (Bernstein 1898, 1899; Carsten 2003). Bernstein thus reduced a seemingly deterministic economic theory of society to an assertion that the economy is essential. In his effort to make Marxist theory compatible with the evidence he made historical materialism more truism than theory. An analogue in the discipline of International Relations (IR) is the theory that power is decisive.1 Governments seek to justify their actions in terms of legal or moral principles but, according to this theory, their real concern is power. This is not because they are narrow-Â�minded or immoral but because they must accept reality. A country whose government ignores the objective reality of power will suffer dire consequences. This theory is paradoxical. Politics is ruled by objective facts, and yet it matters what politicians decide. The actions of others are determined by the necessity of power, but the decisions of our own government may go in any direction if we don’t watch out. The way out is to admit that there is no necessity and that power is one factor among several. This is what power theorists do, however deterministically they express themselves. Three features of Thucydides’ The Peloponnesian War, often considered 60â•‡â•‡ K. Goldmann the foundational work of IR, combine to form a theory of power: (1) the view that what had happened to Hellas would, ‘at some time or other and in much the same ways, be repeated in the future’ because of ‘human nature’,2 (2) the contention that the ‘real reason’ for the war was disguised by an argument about the complaints of the parties and was in fact ‘the growth of Athenian power and the fear which this caused in Sparta’, and (3) the assertion, made by Thucydides’ own Athenians in the Melian Dialogue, that ‘our opinion of the gods and our knowledge of men lead us to conclude that it is a general and necessary law of nature to rule wherever one can’ (Thucydides 1954: 24–25, 363).3 It is a common observation, however, that Thucydides’ account of the war is cast in a non-Â�deterministic form. Time and again Thucydides has the actors debate options, none of which is pictured as obvious or necessary. As put by Morrison (2006), history is contingent in Thucydides’ thought. This is the opposite of necessity. Power does decide, but not only power, and not in a way that can be predicted. This is more truism than theory. Hans Morgenthau opens Politics among Nations (1961 [1948]) with the assumption that politics and society are ‘governed by objective laws that have their roots in human nature’. The ‘main signpost’ of political realism, he asserts, is ‘the concept of interest defined in terms of power’. A ‘realist theory of international politics’ will guard against two fallacies: ‘the concern with motives and the concern with ideological preferences’. Such theory, however, is merely a theory of ‘the rational essence to be found in experience, without the contingent deviations from rationality which are also found in experience’. What is more, in addition to interest defined as power there is ‘the moral significance of political action’: the ‘supreme virtue’ is not to pursue interest defined as power but to show ‘prudence – the weighing of the consequences of political action’ (Morgenthau 1961: 4–10). Morgenthau’s biographer Christoph Frei, as a matter of fact, shows Morgenthau to have been both realist and idealist throughout (Frei 2001). Kenneth Waltz’s style is more assertive that Morgenthau’s, but in Theory of International Politics the reader is told from the beginning that a theory is merely an indication that ‘some factors are more important than others’. The task is to find ‘the central tendency among a confusion of tendencies’, ‘the propelling principle even though other principles operate’, ‘the essential factors where innumerable factors are present’. A theory of international politics is not a theory of foreign policy, to cite one more of Waltz’s cautionary reminders (Waltz 1979: 8, 10, 72). When replying to his critics, Waltz adds that explanations are indeterminate because ‘both unit-Â�level and structural causes are in play’. Systemic theory has ‘bothersome limitations’ arising from the difficulty of weighing unit-Â� level and structural causes. This is a ‘serious, and seemingly inescapable, limitation of systems theories of international politics’ (Waltz 1986: 343). We are left with a theory asserting that the power structure of the system of states is essential. This does not take us far beyond the obvious. Bold assertion combined with cautioning reminder is a common feature among theorists of international power. To cite a further example, according to Theories, truisms and tools in IRâ•‡â•‡ 61 Mearsheimer’s theory of offensive realism, states are compelled to maximise power, and this makes power competition unavoidable and the threat of inter-Â� state violence incessant. Mearsheimer, however, mixes deterministic and non-Â� deterministic phrasing and admits that there are ‘many possible causes of aggression, and no state can be sure that another state is not motivated by one ofÂ€them’ (2001: 31). He also shares with other theorists of power the paradox of regarding his theory as deterministic and normative at the same time.4 The theory of power, from Thucydides to Mearsheimer, is structural in the sense of purporting to explain agency in terms of features assumed to be independent of individual actors.5 The calculations of agents are presumed to be uniformly determined by ‘objective’ (Morgenthau) or ‘structural’ (Waltz) features. The contribution of such theory to the explanation of agency is modest, however, since its explanatory power is not even remotely specified. There is little beyond caveats about what other factors need to be taken into account and how they relate to each other and to the international power structure. What is more, there is little or nothing about how the implications of international power may change over time. Ideas about how to modify the international system along the lines of liberal internationalism are not taken into consideration or are simply asserted to be unworkable. Hence this theory is of limited usefulness for the consideration of what change is likely to produce what long-Â�term effect on international politics. It is a valid question as to why so much attention in IR discourse has been devoted to this combination of pretensions and caveats. The manifest function of scholarly debate is to separate the wheat from the chaff. Scholars are expected to place substantive knowledge claims before the academic community, whose critical scrutiny will decide what must be rejected and what may provisionally be retained. This institution of quality control, crucial for academic life, presumes that the claims put forward are strong enough to be valid. This is not the case with theories embedded in caveats. The concern with such theory within IR suggests that IR discourse performs functions beyond the critical analysis of knowledge claims. I shall suggest two such functions: ideology and identity. From a social scientific point of view it is not very meaningful to debate whether, for example, power is more important than other factors for developments in society or whether ideas are more important. It is different from the point of view of ideology. In conservative thought, human nature is seen as imperfect both morally and intellectually; history and tradition have made the sovereign nation-Â�state the foundation of political thought; it is meaningless if not dangerous to attempt to change this condition by innovative institution building. In the liberal tradition, in contrast, man is presumed to be both good and rational; no historical necessity obtains; breaking with tradition and turning international relations in a new direction is the core of liberal internationalism. This disagreement has been a feature of western politics for two centuries, and the debate within IR has been a variation on this theme. A work such as Theory of Interna tional Politics can be seen as an academic justification of conservative thought, and the intensity with which it has been criticised can be understood as a defence 62â•‡â•‡ K. Goldmann of liberal internationalism against this attack. In ideological debate, of course, indeterminacy may be a virtue just as much as a vice. Furthermore, practitioners within a field of study seem to need a collective identity in the sense of a perception of community, of common aims, and of a common understanding of what the field is like.6 In IR, the focus on power has probably been enhanced by disagreement typical of an emerging field in need of common identity but lacking in common aims and understandings. As pointed out by Thies (2002), the theory of power has been promoted as a distinct IR identity which, very usefully, can be traced all the way back to classical antiquity. This helps explain not only the respect with which the theory of power has been treated within the profession but also the intensity with which it has been criticised. Some in IR have evidently felt it necessary to take up arms to prevent their identity from being defined by realism à la Morgenthau or Waltz. Some outside IR, moreover, have found Morgenthauian and maybe Waltzian realism useful as a significant other. Debating a truism appears useful for identity construction. Hedgehogs and foxes It is a standard response to prediction failure in the social sciences that prediction never was the aim. The matter was brought to a head by the financial crisis of 2008: soul-Â�searching among economists, to cite David Brooks (2010), made them rediscover the ‘humility of an earlier time’. The yearnings of human beings are not reducible to universal laws, Brooks wrote, and once this was accepted ‘economics would again be reduced to a subsection of history and moral philosophy’. This was as when the Cold War ended in a way that was not only unpredicted but unpredictable on the basis of IR theory, an event that demonstrated, among other things, the weakness of the theory of power.7 According to Robert Keohane, criticising IR for having failed in this regard ‘misunderstands what students of international relations can do’. We don’t have ‘recipes for foreign policy success’ and have a ‘manifest inability to predict complex events. .â•›.â•›. The model of science as increasingly successful prediction based on increasing numbers of validated generalizations is not appropriate for our field’ (1996: 463–464). I do not share Keohane’s view of the essential irrelevance of IR theory for policy considerations.8 However, so far as the theory of power is concerned the step is short to Isaiah Berlin’s famous distinction between hedgehogs and foxes. Berlin begins his essay about Tolstoy with a line from Archilochus: ‘The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.’ There is a chasm, according to Berlin, between those who ‘relate everything to a single central vision’ or ‘universal, organizing principle’ and those whose ideas are ‘centrifugal rather than centripetal’ and whose thought is ‘scattered and diffused, moving on many levels, seizing upon the essence of a vast variety of experiences and objects for what they are in themselves’, without seeking to fit them into any Theories, truisms and tools in IRâ•‡â•‡ 63 Â� embracing ‘unitary inner vision’ (1953: 2). The distinction, rephrased by a all-Â� psychologist, is between those who ‘toil devotedly within one tradition, and reach for formulaic solutions to ill-Â�defined problems’, and those who ‘draw from an eclectic array of traditions, and accept ambiguity and contradiction as inevitÂ� able features of life’ (Tetlock 2005: 2). Berlin thinks that there is a difference of this kind between political science and statesmanship: the statesman must be able to comprehend a unique situation in its full complexity, and all the political scientist can offer are simplifying Â�generalisations (1996). The theory of power would seem to be an outstanding example. In 2007, Berlin’s student Michael Ignatieff, prominent in politics as well as research, published a remorseful op-Â�ed piece in the New York Times headlined ‘Getting Iraq Wrong’. Ignatieff quoted Berlin to the effect that the trouble with academics is that they care more about whether ideas are interesting than whether they are true. I have learned that good judgement in politics looks different from good judgement in intellectual life, he wrote. ‘Among intellectuals, judgment is about generalizing and interpreting particular facts as instances of some big idea. In politics, everything is what it is and not another thing. Specifics matter more than generalities. Theory gets in the way.’ He added, apparently referring to his own Harvard and similar places, that a sense of reality ‘doesn’t always flourish in elite institutions’, and political science ‘promises more than it can deliver’ (Ignatieff 2007). Psychological research confirms that fox-Â�like insight makes for better predictions of political matters than hedgehog-Â�type theory (Tetlock 2005: 21–23, passim). Hedgehog commitment to a single theory as if it were deterministic thus makes for bad judgement. This would seem to be a risk inherent in the central position of the theory of power in IR, as it has been in the Marxist commitment of some other scholars. Foxes, to repeat, draw from a variety of traditions when puzzling together an assessment of a situation. This suggests that the maintenance of controversy between contending approaches is a way for IR scholarship to contribute to statesmanship. The theory of power, of questionable utility in itself, may contribute to insight if combined with rival theories of other orientations. A plurality of truisms may make for good foxness. From this perspective, IR discourse is to be seen as insight-Â�giving conversation rather than as a striving for systematic knowledge. Teaching students about realist theory and its critics may help improving their judgement, even if this debate differs from the academic ideal of the critical analysis of knowledge claims. Theorising in IR comprises more than the contention between near-Â�truistic generalisations, however. There is a different kind of theoretical activity that is useful for the academic analysis of events in international relations as well as for considerations of foreign policy in spite of, or because of, not representing an ideological or identity-Â�related commitment to a particular point of view. This is theorising to which many of us have contributed, but one that is more properly called pre-Â�theory and sometimes meta-Â�theory. 64â•‡â•‡ K. Goldmann Theories as tools The theory of power in international relations aims at being comparable, if not to theory in the natural sciences at least to the theory of economics; the parallel between economic theory and Waltz’s Theory of International Politics is often drawn. Other theoretical constructs in IR abstain from claiming to identify ‘political laws’ (Morgenthau) or ‘central tendencies’ (Waltz). Their justification is the more modest one of improving our tools for explanation and maybe forecasting. From the point of view of hedgehogs, such constructs offer toolboxes that should prove useful for the further development of their central visions – for specifying the interaction between power and other concerns in the making of foreign policy, for example. From the point of view of foxes, their utility lies in their structuring and systematising insights brought together from various approaches. While the theory of power is better for ideological and identity-Â�related purposes, more modest theoretical constructs may be better tools for research and thinking. The term pre-Â�theory, appropriate for such constructs, was made common property in IR by James Rosenau (1964). I take it for granted that it is impossible for foxes to do without such tools, even if they leave them implicit. Making them explicit opens the way for scrutiny and hence improvement. The logical scrutiny of pre-Â�theories may be called meta-Â�theoretical. The characteristic feature of a pre-Â�theory – or conceptual framework, or model – is that it defines variables and outlines relations between them without claiming to specify the effect on one variable of a particular change in another. A simple early example is Ole Holsti’s (1962) model of an individual’s decision resulting from information filtered though his or her belief system. No specifics can be derived from this model, but Holsti provides a tool for hedgehogs intending to dig deeper as well as for foxes considering an immediate issue. A more complex, early example is Snyder and associates’ outline of ‘state X as actor in a situation’, which brings together into a single diagram fifteen different phenomena and their relations with each other as well as with the interaction between decision making and action and between the internal and the external setting (Snyder et al. 1962). No specific conclusion about anybody’s action follows from specific assumptions about any of the fifteen phenomena included in the model; this is not a theory proper of foreign policy decision or action but an elaborate suggestion of what to take into account when exploring decisions or actions. Rosenau’s (1964) pre-Â�theory, of course, is a third example in arguing that the analysis of a country’s foreign policy needs to integrate five sets of sources, namely, individual, role, governmental, societal, and systemic. In the half-Â�century since these works were published, there has been a proliferation of such frameworks – simple or complex, verbal or mathematical, true to a single approach or bringing together elements from various approaches, resulting from theoretical thought or inferred from empirical findings. It is a reasonable question whether the pretentious theories of power I have found truistic are not better seen as pre-Â�theories and thus as mere tools. As a matter of fact, Mearsheimer’s theory of offensive realism has been used in Theories, truisms and tools in IRâ•‡â•‡ 65 Â� precisely this fashion in a dissertation about US policy after 9/11. The author, Johannes Rø, translates offensive realism into a number of ‘mechanisms’ and goes on to examine to what extent there is evidence of each of these in the White House and what other ‘mechanisms’, not derived from offensive realism, also need to be considered (2011). A pre-Â�theory may be strong or weak depending both on the quality of its concepts and on the degree to which its hypothesised relationships are supported by evidence. Applying it empirically may give insights that can be fed back to the original model or framework. A discovery likely to be made is that some of the concepts fail to be operational; learning more about how to operationalise key concepts is a likely experience from the empirical application of a pre-Â�theory. The empirical application of a pre-Â�theory, furthermore, may provide insights into what concepts need to be refined, differentiated, substituted or added. It may be seen as trial and error for the purpose of making the pre-Â�theory more similar to theory proper. The main point of making one’s pre-Â�theory explicit, however, is to make it available for critical examination. Since it is a feature of good scholarship to facilitate the scrutiny of one’s work, putting one’s theoretical assumptions on the table should be routine. A pre-Â�theory may be examined from the point of view of precision, comprehensiveness, and empirical evidence. However, since useful pre-Â�theory is often eclectic – not least Rosenau’s – it is important to scrutinise not only its details but also its logic. A scholar devoting himself to this task is Walter Carlsnaes. Even though Carlsnaes casts his oft-Â�cited consideration of the agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis (1992) in the form of a consideration of fundamental issues in political theory and social science philosophy, his analysis is also, if not predominantly, a comment on the implications of some of the pre-Â�theories the rest of us have used as tools. Much of Carlsnaes’ work can be read as a demonstration of the utility of examining the logic of eclectic pre-Â�theoretical frameworks. In works such as his, those using theoretical frameworks as tools for analysis can find the tools needed for improving their own. Carlsnaes, among other things, has indicated a way of combining the examination of the role of structure for agency with the exploration of the role of agency for structure. I have argued that the largely truistic theory of power in international relations is weak on both accounts. Many have contributed pre-Â� theoretical pieces to these interrelated puzzles. Carlsnaes’ meta-Â�theory indicates the logic of integrating them to a more coherent picture. Bismarck is Isaiah Berlin’s favourite example of a statesman whom he contrasts with political scientists. True, a Bismarck may not be helped by a political scientist telling him about the ‘rational essence’ (Morgenthau) or the ‘propelling principle’ (Waltz). He may however benefit from a good pre-Â�theory or maybe even meta-Â�theory to bring order to his intuitions. 66â•‡â•‡ K. Goldmann Notes 1 What is called the theory of power in this paper is the general theory of relations of power as determinant of political action. I am not going into power theories of more limited scope. Nor will I consider the very concept of power (for a suggestion about how to make it less ambiguous, see Goldmann 1979). 2 Thucydides is commonly translated in this way, but Zagorin (2005), who discusses the matter in detail, maintains that ‘given the human condition’ is a more appropriate translation. There is a difference between ‘human nature’ and ‘the human condition’ paralleling the difference between the power theories of Morgenthau and Waltz to be discussed in what follows. 3 In classical antiquity, the same thought was expressed by the Roman-Â�Jewish historian Flavius Josephus. There is, according to Josephus, ‘an immutable and unchallenged law among beasts and men alike, that all must submit to the stronger, and that power belong[s] to those in arms’ (Josephus 1981: 317). Josephus, however, confuses the issue by also explaining matters in terms of God’s will. 4 This is pointed out by Rø (2010: 14, fnÂ€3), whose perusal of offensive realism I have found quite helpful. 5 Much has been made of the difference between Waltz’s argument, which departs from the structure of the international system, and Morgenthau’s reference to ‘human nature’ as the root of international politics. However, the ‘objective laws’ which, according to Morgenthau, determine international politics may not differ much from structure in the sense of recurrent social arrangements, just as Waltz’s structure may ultimately be explained by what is akin to Morgenthau’s ‘human nature’. 6 This essentially is the concept of collective identity as I have defined it elsewhere (Goldmann 2008). 7 The relation between the end of the Cold War and IR theory is considered in Allan and Goldmann (1991), based on an ECPR workshop that was quite topical at the time it was held. The implications for the theory of power are considered in my own contribution to the volume. 8 Neither Morgenthau nor Waltz hesitated to provide such advice. Morgenthau, among other things, was a prominent critic of US warfare in Vietnam (Morgenthau 1965), and Waltz argued, on the basis of his theory of international politics, against invading Iraq (Kreisler 2003). References Allan, Pierre and Goldmann, Kjell (eds) (1992). The end of the Cold War: Evaluating theories of international relations. The Hague: Kluwer Law International. Berlin, Isaiah (1953). The hedgehog and the fox: An essay on Tolstoy’s view of history. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Berlin, Isaiah (1996). On political judgment. New York Review of Books, 43(15), 26–30. Bernstein, Eduard (1898). Erklärung an den Parteitag der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands (retrieved from marxistsfr.org/deutsch/referenz/bernstein/1898/10/ erklaerung.htm). Bernstein, Eduard (1899). Die Voraussetzungen des Sozialismus und die Aufgaben der Sozialdemokratie. Stuttgart: J.Â€H.Â€W. Dietz, nachf. Brooks, David (2010). The return of history. New York Times, 26 March (retrieved from nytimes.com). Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. Inter national Studies Quarterly, 36, 245–270. Theories, truisms and tools in IRâ•‡â•‡ 67 Carsten, Francis L. (1993). Eduard Bernstein, 1850−1932: Eine politische Biographie. München: Beck. Flavius Josephus (1981 [c.75]). The Jewish War. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Frei, Christoph (2001). Hans J. Morgenthau: An intellectual biography. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press. Goldmann, Kjell (1979). The international power structure: Traditional theory and new reality. In Kjell Goldmann and Gunnar Sjöstedt (eds), Power, capabilities, inter dependence: Problems in the study of international influence. London: Sage. Goldmann, Kjell (2008). Identitet och politik: nationellt, övernationellt, semi-Â�nationellt. Stockholm: SNS Förlag. Holsti, Ole R. (1962). The belief system and national images: A case study. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 6, 244–252. Ignatieff, Michael (2007). Getting Iraq wrong. New York Times, 5 August (retrieved from nytimes.com.). Keohane, Robert O. (1996), International relations: Old and new. In Robert E. Goodin and Dieter-Â�Klingemann, Hans (eds), A new handbook of political science (pp.Â€462–478). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kreisler, Harry (2003). Theory and international politics: Conversation with Kenneth N. Waltz (retrieved from globetrotter.berkeley.edu/people3/Waltz/waltz-Â�con0.htm). Mearsheimer, John J. (2001). The tragedy of great power politics. New York: Norton. Morgenthau, Hans J. (1961 [1948]). Politics among nations: The struggle for power and peace, 3rd edn. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Morgenthau, Hans J. (1965). Vietnam and the United States. Washington, DC: Public Affairs Press. Morrison, James V. (2006). Reading Thucydides. Columbus, OH: Ohio State University Press. Rø, Johannes F. (2011). Inside the black box: Offensive realism and the U.S. response to 9/11. Oslo: University of Oslo. Rosenau, James N. (1964). Pre-Â�theories and theories of foreign policy. In R. Barry Farrell (ed.), Approaches in comparative and international politics. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Snyder, R.C., Bruck, H.W. and Sapin, Burton (eds) (1962). Foreign policy decision-Â� making: An approach to the study of international politics. New York: Free Press. Tetlock, Philip (2005). Expert political judgment: How good is it? How can we know? Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Thies, Cameron T. (2002). Progress, history and identity in international relations theory: The case of the idealist–realist debate. European Journal of International Relations, 8, 147–185. Thucydides (1954 [c.411â•›bc]). History of the Peloponnesian War (translated by Rex Warner). Harmondsworth: Penguin. Waltz, Kenneth N. (1979). Theory of international politics. New York: McGraw-Â�Hill. Waltz, Kenneth N. (1986). A response to my critics. In Robert O. Keohane (ed.), Neo realism and its critics (pp. 332–346). New York: Columbia University Press. Zagorin, Perez (2005). Thucydides: An introduction for the common reader. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. 6 The ritual/performance problem in foreign policy analysis European diplomats at the Chinese court Erik Ringmar ‘But where does culture go?’ Walter Carlsnaes leaned across the table and looked me straight in the eyes. ‘You’re saying there is something missing from my boxes? You want me to include “culture”? But where, Erik, does it go?’ I must admit I was flustered. Our meeting had been going well up to this point. I had just read his ‘agency and structure’ paper, fresh in print with International Studies Quarterly (ISQ), and I believed I had found a problem with it (Carlsnaes 1992). Finding problems with your supervisor’s arguments, especially the ones published in prestigious journals, is exhilarating. It allows you to try out a new voice, the voice of a fellow colleague. Leaving my student identity behind for a moment, I was going to assert my independence. If only I had a good answer. ‘Well,’ I cleared my throat, ‘it should probably go somewhere here.’ I pointed to one of the blank corners on the graph before us, but as I pointed I could feel my self-Â�confidence dissipating. There was no place for culture in that graph and I knew it. Walter looked at me straight again. ‘Perhaps you’d better think this over until our next meeting,’ he said with a faintly ironic smile. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘perhaps I’d better.’ That next meeting never took place. I saw Walter Carlsnaes on a number of occasions, but never again formally, as a supervisor. I got my PhD from the United States in the end and he was on the committee, but we never had a chance to return to our topic. I never explained to him where culture goes. I’ve thought about this problem for about 20 years now, and I think I finally know the answer. The agency–structure problem, as other contributions to this book explain, is the question of how to theorise the relationship between human actions and the environment in which they occur. This is the hen-Â�and-egg problem of whether structures determine agents or agents structures. The obvious solution is to say that structures and agents determine each other, yet sensible as this solution sounds, it provides surprisingly little help when it comes to research design. We already know that ‘everything depends on everything else’, but what we do not know is which factors that are the most important. After all, it is only by keeping some things fixed that we can study how other things vary. The suggestion that we first should look at the structure, then at the agent, then at the structure again and so on, is not very helpful as long as we lack a more general framework which can integrate the two and explain the logic of their relationship. By refusing to The ritual and performance problemâ•‡â•‡ 69 opt for one side or the other of the agent–structure divide, we are back where we started – with the trite statement that eggs produce hens and hens eggs. Although the agency–structure problem has been extensively discussed by theorists of all stripes, what has received less attention is the fact that members of society too face the same problem. They too ask themselves what they can do given structural constraints and how those constraints could be re-Â�imagined or altered. Reflections on the structure/agency problem is a persistent theme of social life, including its treatment in novels, movies, arts and drama. In fact, the social scientists’ reflections on the problem are best understood not as the concern of scientists observing life in a test tube, but as part and parcel of this modern, more general, preoccupation. Social scientists pondering the agency– structure problem are only doing what everyone else, in some form or another, does. Since this is the case, the problem can be investigated not only as a matter of theoretical reflection but also empirically – by studying the publicly available reflections on how it can be addressed. This is true for a study of international relations too. The international system of states which emerged in Europe in the late Renaissance is often described as ‘anarchic’, and as such it constitutes a structural constraint on action (Dessler 1989; Wendt 1987; Carlsnaes 1992). What anarchy means, however, is not self-Â� evident but instead to be determined through the actions of states and other international actors, and the interpretations they provide (Wendt 1992). The topic to be investigated below concerns how such interpretations happen. Anarchy may be what states make of it, but to say as much still begs the question of how that which states make of it was made. There is a pragmatics to the interpretation which needs to be further elucidated. Specifying how meanings are made, we will argue, ‘culture’ can be reintroduced into our analyses. Indeed, a study of culture provides a way to investigate the inter-Â�relationship between agents and structures which explains the logic of their relationship. Eggs will still produce hens and hens eggs but we will have a better means of studying this process of production. European diplomats at the Chinese court In order to better understand how anarchy was made in Europe, let’s consider how anarchy was made in East Asia. There, before the middle of the nineteenth century, international relations were organised in a radically different fashion (Fairbank 1973; Zhang 2009; Ringmar 2012). The system was hierarchical and ordered and the units were explicitly unequal. The metaphor of a solar-Â�system is sometimes used, with China as the sun around which other political entities of varying sizes circled in increasingly distant orbits. Or, more commonly, we can talk about a tribute system where the subordinate states would bring gifts to the imperial Chinese court, usually some form of ‘native produce’. In Beijing the visitors were wined and dined and received in an audience with the emperor who treated them kindly, if condescendingly, affirming the social bonds that tied the system together. In this way order and peace was maintained, the Chinese 70â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar Â� confirmed in their world-Â�view, and the visitors recognised by the emperor of China as legitimate rulers. In addition the visitors took the opportunity to trade with the Chinese. Although the Europeans were outsiders to this system, trade and colonialism brought them into it, and as a result they too had to present themselves at the imperial court. From the beginning of the Qing dynasty until the system was abandoned in the wake of the Opium Wars, some 27 separate diplomatic missions showed up in Beijing: four Portuguese, four Dutch, twelve Russian, three delegations from Rome, three British and one American. At the imperial court the Europeans, much like visitors from East Asia, were required to follow a specific ritual which notoriously included the koutou, the full-Â�length prostration before the imperial throne.1 The koutou confirmed the paternalistic relationship which connected the tribute-Â�bearers to the Qing emperor. By koutou-Â�ing the visitors accepted their subordinate positions while the emperor agreed to take them into his benevolent care. There were solid utilitarian reasons why the Europeans should go through with this ritual – the merchants wanted access to Chinese consumers and the missionaries wanted access to Chinese souls – and yet they regarded it as profoundly humiliating. From a European point of view, a full-Â� length prostration was what slaves performed before a master, or a worshipper before a god, but before a political ruler – including their own kings – a European would at most go down on one knee. Only East Asian rulers, the Europeans decided, were despotic enough to insist on this ritual, and only East Asian subjects were submissive enough to go along with it. See Table 6.1. The question is how this pattern best should be explained. Why did some European visitors always koutou, some never koutou-Â�ed, and some koutou-Â�ed only some of the time? The question is puzzling since they all faced the same opportunities and the same constraints: they all wanted concessions from the Chinese. Moreover, once the embassy arrived in Beijing they had already invested a lot in its success and it would seem foolish to jeopardise the outcome by not following the required protocol. Yet some countries always did, some never did, and some did it only some of the time. Let us consider this as a problem of foreign policy: there were actions, there were structures, but there also seems to be ‘something cultural’ going on. Action and the pragmatics of discourse One particularly striking feature of the diplomatic interaction between China and the rest of the world during the Qing dynasty is its theatrical quality. The Europeans presenting themselves at the imperial court found themselves the actors in an elaborate state ritual, and it was the terms on which they appeared in this ritual that the conflict concerned. For scholars used to analysing action in terms of rational choices, this is bound to be puzzling. To them, rituals are ‘mere rituals’ and as such at best examples of ‘expressive behaviour’ (see, for example, Hamlin and Jennings 2011). Yet as the ritualism of the Chinese court reminds us, rational actions are only one of several kinds of behaviour in which states, Portugal Papacy Holland United States Great Britain Russia Koutou 1656, 1670, 1676, 1693–1694, 1716–1717, 1720–1721, 9 1721–1722, 1725–1727, 1757, 1763, 1767–1768, 1806 1670, 1678, 1727, 1753 4 1705–1706, 1720–1721, 1725 2 1656, 1667, 1685–1686, 1795 4 1859 0 1793, 1816, 1860 0 Visits Table 6.1â•‡ Responses of the diplomatic missions 0 0 0 1 2 2 Refused to koutou, no audience 0 1 0 0 1 1 Refused to koutou, audience 100 67 100 0 0 75 Koutou/visits (%) 72â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar and their representatives, engage. Ritualistic and theatrical behaviour are not simply actions that are insufficiently rational, but behaviour of an entirely different kind. As a result we need a different way to explain them. An action, lets remind ourselves, is the result of an actor interpreting a situation in a certain fashion, identifying the options available and considering which option that is most likely to bring most benefit. The process of rational deliberation thus understood, when brought before one’s mind at the appropriate moment, results in a rational action. Actions, that is, serve the desires of the persons carrying them out. Yet, since our desires typically are thought of as unlimited, the environment in which we act will never properly satisfy us. We always want more and the fact that everyone else wants more too means that we have to behave strategically in our interactions with others – to make sure that we get what we want before someone else gets it. Conditions of scarcity and competition mean that both the physical and the social environment – both ‘structures’ – are understood as constraints. Consider the place of culture in this process of rational deliberation. Rational actions, we said, rely on interpretations. Before we act, we need to define our interests, define the options available to us, define the situation we are in – and these definitions all pre-Â�suppose a world which is meaningful. Sense is never made by individuals alone but instead always together with other members of our society and by the people who preceded us. Obviously, all societies have several competing ways of making sense of things, and this gives us the option of choosing between them (see, for example, Swidler 2003). Equally obviously, we do not have to agree with the established interpretations. Even when we disÂ� agree, however, we have to disagree in a meaningful way. All in all, we take things to be the kinds of things that people in our society take things to be; we want the kinds of things that others want; we are the kinds of people that others are. As a result we come to incorporate a social element into even the most selfish of our desires. These ready-Â�made meanings make up an important part of the culture of our societies.2 Meanings form a vast system of interrelated, although disparate and not necessarily coherent, terms which together constitute what we could call a ‘discourse.’ A discourse can be understood as a vast imaginary dictionary, specific to our society, where various terms are defined in some particular, if not necessarily coherent, fashion. Actions are thus simultaneously real – meaning physiological and material – and discursive, meaning meaningful. We rely on a discourse in putting together the narratives through which we make sense of our lives (see, for example, Johnstone 2004). Narratives put meanings into action, as it were: a story identifies a protagonist who is located in a certain situation which includes other people but also the material, economic and social circumstances of their lives. The situation has some basic problem or tension which is worked out, scene by scene, through the actions in which the protagonists engage. In its telling, the story comes to provide an account of the relationship between agency and structure. Moreover, this relationship is no longer an endless succession of hens and eggs, but it is plotted in a certain The ritual and performance problemâ•‡â•‡ 73 fashion. The story has a beginning, a middle and an end, and agency is related to structure, and structure to agency, by means of a plot. When the story comes to an end, the tension between agency and structure is resolved. In addition to the problem of what something means, we said, there is the problem of how something means. Discourse has no social life; it is mute, like a book on a shelf before somebody reads it. Although this may be good enough for literary theorists who study texts, social scientists are in addition interested in how something came to be interpreted a certain fashion; how, that is, the book was read and received. There must be some process, in other words, through which discourse came to be activated and made available for public as well as individual deliberation (cf. Walker 2006). We could refer to this process as the ‘pragmatics’ of discourse. Such a pragmatics can take many forms, but two are particularly important for our purposes: rituals and what we will refer to as ‘social performances.’ Rituals are associated with particular times and places in the life of a person or a society.3 Rituals are established responses to an environment which is uncertain, risky, or in a state of change; rituals are associated with comings and goings, passages and turning-Â�points, transitions and transformations. Rituals take place in their own space, a location and an occasion removed from the ordinary stream of life, which you enter and leave – often by means of a ritual. Engaging with the ritual, we subject ourselves to the requirements of a script which specifies the use of particular movements, words and assorted paraphernalia; that is, we subject ourselves to a tradition of which our society is the custodian and perpetuator. Rituals, as a result, are social occasions, they are usually carried out together with others, and even when we carry them out alone, rituals necessarily make reference to a larger community – of believers, for example, co-Â�nationals or fellow party-Â�members. Yet rituals require no particular skill and they are not performed in the sense that they require a personal interpretation or expression; rituals can often be carried out without your hearts or minds being engaged. But not all performances are ritualistic. In addition to rituals there are plays, that is, theatrical performances (cf. Alexander 2006). Plays are staged in much the same fashion as rituals; they unfold in a confined space, dedicated to the purpose, which is set off from the continuity and flow of ordinary life. Yet theatrical performances, in contrast to rituals, have pretensions to verisimilitude; they are at the same time a presentation and a re-Â�presentation. The actions presented on the stage are representing life outside the stage – above all the lives of individuals and the social and material conditions in which they find themselves. The play has a narrative structure and a plot which turns on the actions carried out by the actors.4 Plays, in contrast to rituals, have an audience. The purpose of the performance is to show the audience something, to demonstrate or teach something, to convey emotions and experiences.5 Thus understood, performances are not only taking place in theatres but elsewhere in society too. A ‘social performance’ is a staged and narrated event, performed by actors in front of an audience, which takes a social, political or economic issue as its topic.6 Social performances also have plots that unfold 74â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar through the actions of actors, and the aim, just as in a theatrical performance, is to show or teach something, to convey emotions and experiences. Examples of social performances include extravagant displays of royal opulence, staged debates between presidential candidates, the destruction of a palace during a war, mass demonstrations, victory parades, state funerals, a revolutionary fête, the ‘cult’ of a political leader, and acts of terrorism. This is how societies conceptualise the agency–structure problem. In rituals and social performances the external world is internalised. The external environment is transformed into a known and far more easily graspable environment which belongs to the performance itself.7 Rituals, we said, are particularly common during times of transitions and transformations, that is, at moments when agency is badly defined, social structures uncertain, and the relationship between agency and structure unclear. The ritual replaces this external uncertainty with an internal certainty and helps ease the move from the one state to the other. The ritual re-Â�inserts the individual both into the unfolding context of her own life and into society as a whole. In this way the ritual provides a means of coping with a situation with which we could not have coped, or not coped as well, on our own. Social performances add verisimilitude and audience participation to these ritualistic representations. On the stage a world is created which has its own agents, structures, and relationship between them. The constraints set by this Â�internal environment, and the actions in which individuals engage on stage, are determined by what we regard as meaningful, not by economic, social or political factors. As audience members, we watch the performance and as a result the structural constraints and the actions available to us in our own lives come to be elucidated, criticised or reaffirmed. A performance, that is, is a way for society to think. As members of the audience, we are no longer telling only our own story, but forced to consider other people’s stories and the stories of our society as a whole (Walker 2006; see also Nellhaus 2000). This is the story-Â�telling to which social scientists too, in a modest fashion, make a contribution. To koutou or not to koutou? To say that an international system is ‘anarchic’ is not to say very much. Anarchy refers to the positioning of political subjects in relation to each other, but such a positional map tells us nothing as to how their relationships are interpreted. In order to understand the logic of a certain international system, we need not a theoretical analysis, but a historical account. Only a historical exposition can tell us how a certain definition of anarchy came to be established and how it came to matter to states and to the individuals acting in their name. The rituals performed at the imperial court in Beijing answer these questions as far as the Sino-Â�centric international system is concerned (Ringmar 2012). The fact that the system was centred on the Chinese capital, and that envoys from the rest of East Asia paid their respects before the imperial throne, reveals the basic logic of the system. The emperor stayed put, that is, and the envoys appeared The ritual and performance problemâ•‡â•‡ 75 before him carrying their respective tributes. Through the rituals, including the koutou, they affirmed their submission, much as a Chinese child might do before a father. The emperor responded in kind, affirming that the envoys and their masters now were under his care. The rituals, in short, stressed hierarchy, inequality, but also mutual obligations. This was how the Sino-Â�centric international system was interpreted and it was through these rituals that it became visible, that is, real. Through the ritual the relationship between agency and structure became obvious to all participants. Contrast and compare the international system which emerged in Europe in the late Renaissance (ibid.). This Westphalian system was not ritualistic but theatrical. The world, in the popular metaphor, was regarded as ‘a stage’ on which states acted and interacted with each other. This metaphor took on concrete manifestations in various locations across Europe – in theatres of war but also in the chambers of peace congresses or, more recently, in the assembly halls of international organisation like the United Nations. Here there were plenty of rituals too, but there was no set script and no one director. Instead the states and their representatives were free to write their own lines, subject only to the requirements imposed by the common performance. There was an audience too: a ‘world opinion’ expressed through the printing press which regularly passed its judgement on what states did and what they should do. In contrast to the rituals taking place in Beijing, these performances stressed equality, sovereignty and self-Â�determination. States were guided by their ‘interests’ and constrained only by other states who were guided in the same fashion. It was through these performances that the Euro-Â�centric international system came to be visualised and made real. It was in this way that agency was related to structure in the Westphalian system. Given that anarchy was so differently conceptualised in the two systems, there were bound to be misinterpretations and conflicts between them, symbolised, as we have seen, by the question of the koutou. To the legates dispatched by Rome, however – including the Jesuits fathers who were permanently stationed in Beijing – the issue was never presented in these terms.8 The Church, much as the Chinese emperor, had a ritualistic view of the world and a firm conviction regarding its own centrality – and it did not recognise the newfangled notion of state sovereignty. Given their incompatible universalisms, however, one would have expected Rome and Beijing to clash and the legates to have had serious problems with the koutou. Such confrontations, however, were avoided by the dexterity of Jesuits missionaries such as Matteo Ricci who argued that these were rituals of no particular significance. To Ricci what mattered was access to the imperial court which he regarded as key to a successful conversion of the Chinese people. It was only once the power of the Jesuits in Rome had been eclipsed by that of the Dominicans that this interpretation came to be questioned. It was also only now that Rome’s legates made trouble about the koutou. The Portuguese and the Dutch koutou-Â�ed, but in order to win commercial favours. To both countries trade was paramount and they were not going to make a fuss about the trifles of court protocol. In fact, the Portuguese took great pride in their respect for local customs – they did not, for example, like other Europeans, 76â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar impose their own place-Â�names on the foreign lands they encountered – and the Dutch were not even represented by the country’s diplomats but instead by officials of the VOC, the Dutch East India Company (Seed 1995). Moreover, both countries had a direct stake in the Sino-Â�centric system. Since 1550, the Portuguese had had a foothold in Macau and this made them, if not Chinese subjects, at least highly dependent on the emperor’s benevolence. And Holland first settled in Batavia on the island of Java in the early seventeenth century, and at this trading-Â�post they too were an integral part – of the Sino-Â�centric system (Wills 1984). As for Russia’s relations with China, they were established on an entirely different footing (Cahen 1914). Since the Russians approached China overland rather than from the sea, they were treated as a Central Asian rather than as a European power. Central Asian powers, the Chinese emperors knew only too well, were dangerous, and the Russians, as a result, were treated with far more respect. For example: the two countries concluded a series of agreements in the seventeenth century in which a common border was established. Meanwhile, back in Europe itself Russian diplomatic practices were considered as hopelessly old-Â�fashioned. The Russians thought of themselves as an empire – as a ‘Third Rome’ – and as such they shied away from the emerging Westphalian practices. They did not, for example, station ambassadors abroad, and European visitors to Moscow had to follow a protocol which resembled that employed in Beijing. Yet this was why Russia and China got along so comparatively smoothly. Russian ambassadors koutou-Â�ed in Beijing without complaints as long as the Chinese promised they would do the same in Moscow. That no Chinese ambassadors were likely to go abroad was less often mentioned. It was only as a result of the diplomatic reforms during the reign of Peter the Great that difficulties between the two countries arose. Once Russia had joined the Westphalian system, and suddenly found itself as an actor among others on its stage, the status of the country in the eyes of the Chinese became a matter of great concern to its diplomats. This was also when Russian visitors to Beijing suddenly refused to koutou. There was never a question of the one American delegation, led by John Ward in 1859, ever koutou-Â�ing. At the time Americans were sceptical even of European-Â�style diplomacy which they regarded as too secretive and too aristocratic (Satow 1917; Foster 1906). Thus no ambassadors were ever received in Washington, DC since this ‘extraordinarily foreign privileged class’ (US Secretary of State, Thomas F. Bayard, 1885, quoted in Watson Foster 1906) was thought to fit badly with American republican ideals. Moreover, the State Department insisted that its own diplomats ‘should appear in the simple dress of an American citizen’ when representing the country abroad (Foster 1906). As Ward was approaching Beijing, his fellow Americans worried that he would embarrass the country, yet Ward, firm in his republican convictions, did not koutou (New York Times 1859). His steadfastness does, however, raise the question of what the Americans aimed to achieve in China. When the imperial courtiers informed them that a koutou was mandatory, the Americans left on The ritual and performance problemâ•‡â•‡ 77 their own accord. Instead a partial agreement was signed, in a thoroughly unceremonious fashion, as they were about to board their ships to go home. British diplomats, like the Americans, never koutou-Â�ed, and ironically, the reason for this was that they shared many of the same ‘republican’ ideals (Ringmar 2006). Members of the British aristocracy took great pride in their commonsense attitude to life and they were often sceptical of empty ritualism and blind beliefs. While as a class they were often dismissive of their social inferiors, they had just as much disdain for all claims to absolute power. In their eyes, their own king was a primus inter pares entirely bereft of sublime attributes. Not surprisingly, British writers were scathing of the spinelessness of their fellow Europeans, and the Dutch in particular were endlessly lampooned (Barrow 1804). And yet the British, much as the Dutch and the Portuguese, wanted concessions on trade, and for that reason they needed to come to an agreement with the imperial authorities. The American solution of a partial treaty concluded in a provincial town was dismissed, however, as being beneath the dignity of the representatives of the British government. The British diplomats, in short, were confused, and the confusion was reflected in their instructions. George Macartney, visiting Beijing in 1793, was told not to ‘commit the honor of your Sovereign or lessen your own dignity’, yet neither should he ‘let any trifling punctilio stand in the way of the important Â�benefits which may be obtained by engaging the favourable disposition of the Emperor and his ministers’ (quoted in Pritchard 1943.) Macartney, that is, had the option to koutou, yet on the day he could not bring himself to do it. Much the same was true of the mission led by William Amherst in 1816. On the way to Beijing extensive discussions pro et contra the required prostration took place among Amherst’s staff. What they hoped for was some kind of face-Â�saving measure, yet when no compromise was forthcoming, Amherst excused himself from the audience, insisting he was ill. After being examined by the emperor’s own doctor, however, the whole embassy was promptly sent packing. Why the British acted in this manner was impossible for the Chinese to understand. Why travel so far, at such an expense, and then ruin everything over such a trifle? The British diplomats were confused since they were torn by conflicting imperatives. They wanted concessions on trade to be sure, but in addition they wanted the Chinese to treat them with respect. They demanded to be recognised as equals, that is, they wanted the Chinese to deal with them on European terms. That such recognition was impossible for the Chinese to even consider was Â�impossible for the British to understand and they constantly complained about the ‘stubbornness’ and ‘stupidity’ of Chinese officials (see, for example, Lane-Â�Pool 1894). This, in our terms, was not only a political, but also a cultural conflict. The Euro-Â�centric and the Sino-Â�centric international systems were incommensurate with each other and while imperial authorities and other visitors found a way to work around these incommensurabilities, the British refused to compromise. The issue was only resolved through the Opium wars, 1839–1842 and 1856–1860, in which the entire Sino-Â�centric international system was blown to pieces. Once Beijing was occupied and the emperor’s palace destroyed, there was no more talk of koutou (Ringmar 2012). 78â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar Where does culture go? Culture enters our analyses of social phenomena to the extent that the actions of actors are based on interpretations – and actions are always based on interpretations. Before we act we must understand what we want, who we are, what kind of a situation we are in, and who the other people in the same situation are and what they want. Understanding all these things requires interpretations. There are no ‘structures’ without interpretations, no ‘actions’ and no acting selves. The question, however, is not only what, but also how something means. There is a pragmatics of discourse, a way of showing and making known through which discursive meanings are turned into shared and socially relevant meanings. In this chapter we briefly contrasted and compared two such pragmatics – rituals and social performances. One of the main tasks of a pragmatics of discourse is to present solutions to the agency–structure problem. That is, to provide social actors with a means of understanding the world they are confronting and the options at their disposal. Social scientists do not analyse these pragmatics as much as to add to them. This is why, and how, culture matters to a study of international relations. Anarchy is not real but interpreted, or rather, the interpretations become real once they are staged, performed, and then acted on. As we have shown this is a social process, and as such it is delimited by the boundaries of a certain interÂ� national society. In this chapter we briefly analysed two such international societies and it was not surprising to find that their respective interpretations of anarchy varied widely together with the pragmatics through which these interpretations were expressed. In the Sino-Â�centric international system the units were unequal, hierarchically ordered and connected through mutual obligations; in the Euro-Â�centric system the units were taken as equal, sovereign and free to pursue their separate goals. The Sino-Â�centric system was visualised through rituals whereas the Euro-Â�centric system was visualised through social performances. If culture is the property of a particular international society, the question becomes what happens when different international societies come into conflict with each other. This was the topic of our historical case-Â�study. The koutou, as we saw, was interpreted in entirely different ways in East Asia and in Europe. In East Asia it was the ritual by which a foreign envoy was inducted into the international system organised by the Chinese. As such it manifested and confirmed a set of mutual obligations. To the Europeans it was a performance which signified complete submission and thereby national humiliation. Whether the Europeans in Beijing koutou-Â�ed or not depended on how they felt about performing on these terms; that is, it depended on how they defined their interests and their identities. This issue was easily dealt with by legates from Rome and by Russian diplomats prior to the reign of Peter the Great since both regarded international politics in similarly ritualistic terms as the Chinese. The issue was easy also for the Portuguese and the Dutch who did regard the ritual as humiliating, but who quickly decided that this was a small price to pay for subsequent commercial Â�benefits. The issue was easy for the United States too for whom a koutou always was out of the question. It was instead only Britain that struggled with the issue. The ritual and performance problemâ•‡â•‡ 79 What was at stake here was the place Britain saw itself as occupying in international relations. Commercial benefits were important to them too, but more Â�important still was Britain’s standing in the world. Instead of performing on Chinese terms, they defied their hosts and eventually destroyed the entire Sino-Â� centric international system. Notes 1 The most detailed description in English is Chun (1989). On the koutou in Sino-Â� European relations, see Rockhill (1905). 2 This definition follows Lisa Wedeen (2002). 3 Compare Turner’s discussion of ‘liminal moments’ (1975). 4 As already emphasised by Aristotle (1898). 5 ‘Theory’ and ‘theatre’ share etymological roots in the Greek, theo, meaning ‘seeing’. 6 Compare Turner’s (1975) ‘social drama’, which however has a more restricted definition. See also Alexander (2006). 7 Burke (1969). On the ‘pragmatics of discourse’, see Wedeen (2002). 8 For how this was a fortiori the case for the Jesuits working at the imperial court, see Mungello (1989). References Alexander, Jeffrey C. (2006). Cultural pragmatics: Social performance between ritual and strategy. In Jeffery C. Alexander, Bernhard Giesen and Jason L. Mast (eds), Social performance: Symbolic action, cultural pragmatics, and ritual (pp.Â€ 29–90). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Aristotle (1898). The Poetics (translated by Samuel Henry Butcher). London: Macmilllan. Barrow, John (1804). Travels in China, Containing Descriptions, Observations, and Comparisons, Made and Collected in the Course of a Short Residence at the Imperial Palace of Yuen-Â�Min-Yuen, and on a Subsequent Journey Through the Country, from Peking to Canton (pp.Â€9–13). London: T. Cadell & W. Davies. Burke, Kenneth] (1969 [1914]). A grammar of motives. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Cahen, Gaston (1940 [1914]). Some early Russo–Chinese relations. Shanghai: National Review Office. Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 36(3), 245–270. Chun, Allen J. (1989). The Ching tribute system as guest ritual: A preliminary description. In Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Sinology (pp.Â€169–208). Taipei: Academia Sinica. Dessler, David (1989). What’s at stake in the agent–structure debate? International Organization, 43(3), 441–473. Fairbank, John K. (ed.) (1973). The Chinese world order: Traditional China’s foreign relations. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Foster, John W. (1906). The practice of diplomacy as illustrated in the foreign relations of the United States. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Hamlin, Alan and Jennings, Colin (2011). Expressive political behaviour: Foundations, scope and implications. British Journal of Political Science, 41(3), 645–670. 80â•‡â•‡ E. Ringmar Johnstone, Barbara (2004). Discourse Analysis and Narrative. In Handbook of Discourse Analysis (pp.Â€635–649). Oxford: Blackwell. Lane-Â�Poole, Stanley (1894). The Life of Sir Harry Parkes, Sometime Her Majesty’s Minister to China & Japan. Vol 1: Consul in China (p.Â€376). London: Macmillan. Mungello, David E. (1989). Curious land: Jesuit accommodation and the origins of Sinology. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Nellhaus, Tobin (2000). Social ontology and (meta)theatricality: Reflections on performance and communication in history. Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism, 14(2), 12–20. New York Times (1859). Important from China: The American Minister at Peking. 16 November. Pritchard, Earl H. (1943). The kotow in the Macartney embassy to China in 1793. Far Eastern Quarterly, 2(2), 184. Ringmar, Erik (2006). Liberal barbarism and the Oriental sublime: The European destruction of the Emperor’s summer palace. Millennium, 34(3), 917–933. Ringmar, Erik (2012a). Performing international systems: Two East Asian alternatives to the Westphalian order. International Organization, 66(1), 1–25. Rockhill, William W. (1905). Diplomatic audiences at the court of China. London: Luzac & Co. Satow, Ernest M. (1917). A guide to diplomatic practice, Vol. 2. London: Longmans, Green, & Co. Seed, Patricia (1995). Ceremonies of possession in Europe’s conquest of the New World, 1492 – 1640. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Swidler, Ann (2003). Talk of love: How culture matters. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Turner, Victor (1975). Dramas, fields, and metaphors: Symbolic action in human society. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Walker, Julia A. (2006). The text/performance split across the analytic/continental divide. In David Krasner and David Z. Saltz (eds), Staging philosophy: Intersections of theater, performance, and philosophy (pp.Â€ 19–40).. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. Watson Foster, John (1906). The practice of diplomacy as illustrated in the foreign relations of the United States. Boston, MA: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Wedeen, Lisa (2002). Conceptualizing culture: Possibilities for political science. American Political Science Review, 96(4), 713–728. Wendt, Alexander E. (1992). Anarchy is what states make of it: The social construction of power politics. International Organization, 46(2), 391–425. Wendt, Alexander E. (1987). The agent–structure problem in International Relations Theory. International Organization, 41(3), 335–370. Wills, John E. (1984). Embassies and illusions: Dutch and Portuguese envoys to K’anghis. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Zhang, Feng (2009). Rethinking the ‘Tribute System’: Broadening the conceptual horizon of historical East Asian politics. Chinese Journal of International Politics, 2, 597–626. 7 Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practices Magnus Ekengren Introduction One common thread for the students of the European Union’s (EU) foreign policy is the search for new frameworks of analysis. For the actor-Â�oriented observers, this has been important in order to avoid a perspective based on traditional analysis of (national) foreign policy that misses out characteristics particular to the Union (Sjöstedt 1977). For similar reasons, the structurally interested analysts have wanted to avoid pre-Â�empirical assumptions of an EU foreign policy structure that could misguide the investigation and hide a possible new structural reality (Bretherton and Vogler 1999; Whitman 1998). Naturally there have been many calls for frameworks able to combine the EU-Â�as-actor (agent) and structuralist approaches in empirical study (White 2001: 32). New terminology has evolved to conceptualise the unique relationship between agency and structure in EU foreign policy, for example ‘actorness and presence’ (Bretherton and Vogler 1999). All these approaches have formulated the problem as a tension between, on the one hand, holding investigations as open as possible, in order not to limit the empirical examination unduly, and, on the other, using well established foreign policy analysis (FPA) categories able to provide a focus for the same research (Jørgensen 1997; Smith 2003). A central question has been to what extent the Union could be compared with existing, traditional foreign policy actors. This brief recapitulation explains why research on European foreign policy to such a large extent has been occupied with issues related to induction strategy and the agency–structure relationship. It also highlights the fundamental importance of Walter Carlsnaes’ ground-Â�breaking studies on agency and structure in processes of foreign policy change for how the key problematiques in the EU literature have come to evolve. Carlsnaes showed that the relationship should be understood as a dynamic process where agents and structures causally condition each other over time, and made EU students aware of the interplay’s constitutive nature (Carlsnaes 1992, 1993). In this way he inspired a whole generation of scholars who were significantly growing in number not least as a result of the important transformations of European foreign policy from the 1990s. Many of us are also indebted to Carlsnaes for introducing us to thinkers that, surprisingly, 82â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren came to have a tremendous impact on international relations theory in general, such as Anthony Giddens and Pierre Bourdieu. Without this opening up towards broader strands of social sciences in the thinking about IR and the European Union many of our dissertations in the 1990s would have looked very different, or perhaps not even existed. Carlsnaes encouraged us to choose subjects in the realm of social constructivism, and perhaps most important, hold on to them when research financing was running out and the pressure for chosing ‘easier’ (theoretical) ways forward was hardening. We are all very thankful for this. In this chapter I will keep following Carlsnaes’ advice and discuss how agency and structure can be inductively traced in the evolving practices of EU foreign policy in recent years. Purpose A central critical point of departure for a constructivist approach is that many existing analyses of the Union’s foreign policy activities is ingrained with ‘scientific’ divisions that distort reality by rationalising them into categories that have little to do with practical life – with actions in the ‘heat of the moment’. Pre-Â�empirical assumptions about the character of the EU-Â�as-actor and EU-Â�asstructure and definitions of subject areas that follow official lines of division of the field (‘common security and defence policy’, ‘area for freedom, security and justice’) are unduly limiting our search for the structures that generate EU agency in practice. The approach in this chapter is that EU foreign policy activities in practice take place as a whole in time and space, where the agency–structure logic is other than what is normally presented when action is rationalised after the event. Building on Bourdieu’s thinking, the theory of practice that is presented transcends prefabricated distinctions by a focus on the everyday work of EU practitioners in a rapidly growing field of EU foreign policy, namely, international crisis management and humanitarian aid. The chapter discusses the agency – structure relationship on the basis of the findings of a research programme carried out over several years at the Swedish National Defence College.1 The programme includes case studies focusing on the EU’s role in crises such as the Turkish earthquakes in 1999, the reconstruction of Kosovo from 1999 onwards, floodings in Central Europe 2002, armed conflicts in the Democratic Republic of Congo 2003, Portuguese forest fires in 2003, the Madrid bombings in 2004, the Asian tsunami disaster 2004 and the Haiti earthquake of January 2010. The empirical focus is chosen because like other researchers in the field, we assume that it is in the EU’s provision of ‘soft’ security, such as humanitarian aid, that the ‘translation of presence [structure] into actorness .â•›.â•›. is likely to be more efficacious than the “hard” security of military defence’ (Bretherton and Vogler 1999: 198). Hopefully the chapter can pass on some agency–structure insights to a new generation of scholars that currently – with the help of Bourdieu – are not only renewing the study of European foreign and security policy but contributing to Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 83 the ‘practice-Â�turn’ in IR-Â�theory in general (Mérand 2008; Pouliot 2010). The following can also be seen as a humble contribution to the development of a theory of practice of EU crisis and disaster managament that is able to challenge existing realist explanations and the view that national interests determine EU intervention and assistance (Gegout 2005; Versluys 2008). EU crisis management and humanitarian assistance Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) The so-Â�called Petersberg tasks were included in the Amsterdam Treaty 1999 (Article 17) encompassing peace keeping, peacemaking and humanitarian and rescue operations. CSDP missions should be carried out for the purpose of peacekeeping, conflict prevention and the strengthening of international security in accordance with the principles of the UN Charter.2 The Lisbon Treaty (Article 43) expands this list to include disarmament, military cooperation, conflict prevention, fight against terrorism: including cooperation with third country. The EU’s first independently launched military operation – Operation ARTEMIS in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), in 2003 – was carried out at the request of the UN (under a Chapter VII resolution).3 There have been six military missions, involving 15,200 troops in total, one peace-Â�monitoring mission, six police missions, three rule-Â�of-law missions and two border management support missions – in 15 countries and on three continents (Howorth 2007). In number of personnel they range from legal advice teams of only a handful of experts to thousands of military troops. With the European External Action Service in place – the EU high representative leads the external crisis management of the Union. She presides over the EU Council of Foreign Ministers and is at the same time vice chairman of the EU Commission. The Political and Security Committee, consisting of the security ambassadors of the member states prepares the ministers meetings together with the new internal security committee (COSI). These committees are supported by the EU military committee, seconded by a 150 strong military staff, and the Committee for Civil Crisis Management and the Council Secretariat. Civil protection The 11 September 2001 attacks led to the creation of a Community ‘mechanism’ for the compilation and use of member state resources, not only for natural disasters but also terrorist attacks (Ekengren et al. 2006). However, the idea of a mechanism had already been discussed in relation to the problems of Â�co-Â�ordination of the civil protection intervention teams of the EU member states to Turkey during the earthquakes in 1999.4 In 2007 the Union developed the mechanism into ‘A Community Civil Protection Mechanism’ and set the parameters for the development of a European rapid response capability based on civil protection modules of the member states. With the rise of the Common 84â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) member states ensured that also the mechanism could be used to coordinate events both inside and outside the EU (Duke and Ojanen 2006). The mechanism has been employed externally several times since its establishment. After the 11 September 2001 events more than 1,000 rescue workers from the member states were co-Â�ordinated through the mechanism for missions across the Atlantic (de Wijk 2004). The Monitoring and Information Centre of the mechanism (MIC) has launched requests for assistance in connection with the oil accident caused by the Prestige tanker outside the Spanish coast in the autumn of 2002.5 In 2006 the mechanism for the first time was used in a war situation when it helped member states to evacuate their citizens from Lebanon and coordinated European experts for the education of locals to clean up the oil spill caused by Israeli bombing. Major disasters where assistance was requested includes the Prestige accident (2002); earthquakes in Algeria (2003), Iran (2003, 2004, 2005), Morocco (2004) and Pakistan (2005); the tsunami in South Asia (2004, 2005); forest fires in Portugal (2003, 2004, 2005); floods in Romania and Bulgaria (2005); and Hurricanes Katrina and Rita in the US (2005) and Haiti (2010).6 National participation in EU civil protection cooperation has steadily grown (Hollis 2010). Humanitarian aid The mandate of the European Community Humanitarian Aid department (ECHO) is to provide emergency assistance and relief to the victims of natural disasters or armed conflict outside the European Union.7 Since 1992, when ECHO was established, it has funded humanitarian aid in crisis zones in more than 85 countries via partners such as NGOs and the UN Disaster Assessment and Coordination (UNDAC), UNHCR, UN-Â�OCHA8 and the Red Cross. ECHO grants cover emergency aid, food aid and aid to refugees and displaced persons worth a total of more than €700 million per year (in parity with US humanitarian aid). The legal basis of the ECHO, created in 1996, states that sole aim of EU aid ‘is to prevent or relieve human suffering’, resulting from natural disasters or human-Â�made crises such as wars.9 The EU humantitarian assistance competence was included in the treaties for the first time through Article 214 of the Lisbon Treaty, where it is shared with the member states. The Union has now the right to conclude agreements with other international organisations and to increase Â�coordination between the EU and the member states. While the EU’s civil protection provides for ‘first aid’ assistance in the intervention and relief phase, ECHO is mainly involved in the recovering phase and the rebuilding of infrastructure. The civil protection mechanism identifies the public service resources of the member states, while ECHO is engaging non-Â�governmental organisations and is dependent on the partners it can find in the field due to the fact that it has no operational capacity of its own. Civil protection assistance is only provided in response to a request from the relevant state. Humanitarian aid through EU-Â� ECHO provides non-Â�discriminatory humanitarian emergency assistance regardless of any request or agreement from the country hit by disaster. Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 85 Towards a theory of practice of EU crisis management The theory of practice that Pierre Bourdieu developed is strikingly applicable to the problematiques of EU FPA. He offers an inductive method for empirical studies able to integrate an analysis of agency’s room of manouvre vis-Â�à-vis structure in a strong focus on everyday practice (Bourdieu 1990). In the following I draw on an earlier application of Bourdieu’s theories in the study of the post-Â�national time logic of European governance and how it affects European policy making and institutions (Ekengren 2002). Bourdieu conceives of structure (habitus) as an unconscious memory of past experiences for future use disposing agents with a ‘knowledge’ of how ‘to go on’ (practical sense) in their practice.10 He constructs, via interpretation, an objective world of relations, an objective structure. The so-Â�called structural method is the same as in traditional structural theory; it is the search for the social relations that generates the practice of agents. However, the structure under investigation should not be assumed in advance, and only thereafter tested by means of empirical data. Instead, it should ‘crystallise’ in the process of empirical investigation, in what Bourdieu calls ‘the second break’. The researcher should try to situate himself in the position of the subject at the very moment when the act is taking place. In order to relate the agent’s own ‘feeling’ of his practice and the objective structure constructed by the researcher, Bourdieu uses the concept of habitus.11 In this way, we not only avoid assessing EU actors’ practices only from the outside, from the viewpoint of an ‘objective’ structure constructed by the researcher, but also a perspective based only on subjective or ‘visible’ (in a positivistic sense) social phenomena – a view that has tended to produce a-Â�historical assumptions about EU actorness and agency. Thus, structure is supposed to crystallise in our gradually growing understanding of how practices of EU foreign policy are created and organised, and based on a combination of actors’ subjective views and our objective interpretations. In the case studies carried out in the research programme referred to above we reconstruct what the most closely involved EU actors do in practice. It is these micro-Â�level practices that structure the field. Our sole pre-Â�empirical assumption is that there exists structures that generate EU agency. This looser type of hypothesis is based on a preliminary familiarity of the area. It is not a ‘testable’ hypothesis in the positivistic sense. Instead, these first steps of the investigation should provide material for the construction of systems of social relations, generating hypotheses which later on can be tested by sociological method, such as systematic ethnographic observation.12 The aim of the method is to throw light on new practices and define the object of study step by step. Bourdieu argues that we should not exclude ‘any’ of the relations and contacts of the actor beforehand. Systems of relations should instead crystallise during the process of collection of data. In other words, systems are not supposed to be included in the premises ofÂ€the study but should instead appear as a result of the investigation. The risk of leaving any significant facts – a particular EU style of 86â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren foreign policy – in the dark due to the use of prefabricated conceptions originating from the study of nation-Â�states, other international organisations or other fields of European integration should be minimised. The task is to reveal the generative structure that lies closest to the agent. Union actions are seen as a creator as well as an outcome of structure. EU agency is seen as a product of a feeling (sense) for ‘how to go on’ in relation to the structure searched for and constructed. As with all inductive strategies there is no exact in before-Â�hand given level of empirical findings when structural conclusions should be drawn. All empirical analysis is always a mixture of continuous observation and decoding. In our case, EU foreign policy structure exists to the extent the actors of the field attach importance to it and we can observe it as generator of action, when trying to put ourself in the actor’s situation. Hence, an actor’s refering to national ‘interests’ in her own description of what determines EU action is not enough evidence for the lack of an EU structure, perhaps more important in the generation of her or his action. Only by combining this subjectivist fact with an objectivist knowledge of social relations and actors’ un-Â�conscious sense of ‘how to go on’ in the field, can we construct an objective structure. How should we recognise and value significant social relations when we see them? The agent is always operating in a social context – a field, where the participants have in common a set of recognised social ‘capital’, which is at stake and over which they struggle. The capital consists of the specific competences, resources and recognition that are considered to be of value in the field. The field is also defined by the specific rules, questions, methods and style of risk taking and investments for the gaining of capital. The ‘tension’ of the field depends on the distribution of capital between the participants. A field with high tension is a field where there exists an uneven spread of capital, for example differences of competence and legitimation in the political field. According to Bourdieu, habitus is the result of experiences of similar situations and social relations where the degree of similarity to a high degree depends on the tension. The aim of this tool of induction is to increase our sensitivity for the unwritten as well as unspoken rules of conduct in our search for relations of high generative significance. What capital is the driving force for action in our field of study? What are the specific competences and resources? Who is in practice given the legitimate right to act? Structure and agency in EU practices As mentioned, the conclusions in this section are the result of a dozen of case studies of the EU’s crisis management and humanitarian aid based on participant observations, in-Â�depth interviews and written sources covering a wide range of official and informal documents. Taken together the cases give an indication of how EU policymakers go on in the field. They show the ‘commonsensical’ meaning EU agents attribute to their own, un-Â�conscious, future-Â�oriented practices when faced with crisis and natural disaster. In this way they constitute an important contribution to the construction of habitus in the ‘EU collectivity’ that Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 87 generates Union activities. Do members of this collectivity take their engagement in the crisis for granted in everyday life, or not? It is of course impossible to examine all actors of the ‘collectivity’ of EU institutions and member states. The strategy has been to select groups of practitioners that are more representative of the collective habitus than others. The implication is a lean towards officials at lower-Â�level of admistration and ‘first responders’. Decision makers at higher political levels – in the capitals of the EU member states and in the EU Council of Ministers – are not as central to the object of study as they normally are in investigations of EU decision making. The focus is of course highly problematic from a realist perspective that emphasises the fact that EU activities in the area of crisis management and humanitarian aid remain within the realm of intergovernmental decision-Â�making rules. It is the governments of the EU member states that ultimately decide when and how the EU should act. This is the reason, argues the realist, why national interests should be in focus in explanations of EU action. But again, the aim is not to define moments of formal, central government decisison making but to reconstruct the underlying common sense that dispose the EU collectivity for the practices of engagement and handling of international crisis. The task is to select groups of people that are representative ‘producers’ and holders of these tacit underlying trends, that is, the ‘background knowledge’ in the EU collectivity. In the emirical investigations it has been assumed that a key group consists of the actors who first try to make sense of the crisis, communicate their views and proposals for action upwards in the hierarchies for formal approval of their practices, and, implement the same formal decisions, that are – as we have discovered – very often in line with the practical logics of first responders in the field. What do these people sense as self-Â�evident when confronted with crisis? Each case study started off by focusing on the group of EU officials directly confronted by crisis and humanitarian disaster, normally Commission and EU agency officials. This group functions as the core from which further ‘circles’ of relations are mapped. The aim has been to ‘follow’ and reconstruct their actions over time with the help of a variety of empirical material that can help sketch the contours of structure and generate hypotheses for further research.13 In the following it is only possible to give a glimpse of the conclusions on structure and agency drawn from these detailed studies that account for practices on a day-Â�by-day, and often hour-Â�by-hour, basis.14 The aim is to exemplify the potential of a focus on the logic of EU practicality in international crisis as a way to illustrate the interplay between agency and structure. Structure There are many indications of a habitus making it self-Â�evident to act in situations of international crises and natural disasters. The Union’s officials and first responders in the Commission and EU agencies, such as ECHO, have embodied a practical sense that disposes them to engage. A tacit ‘background knowledge’ has evolved that simply makes it natural to act in such situations. 88â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren Habitus also includes a sense of the symbolic power struggle between the EU actors and representatives of other international crisis managers over intervention, resources and division of labour. Formally, the field of international crisis management and humanitarian aid is made up of distinct and overlapping international organisations and national-Â�states with equal status, responsibilites and actions, resulting from a non-Â�hierarchical order with regard to the legitimacy of the various players. In practice, however, the studied EU actors reveal a structure of greater generative significance; a structural whole originating from ‘inter-Â� organisational’ symbolic power struggles and informal hierarchies. A well recognised possession of instruments for crisis management and humanitarian aid seems to be the condition for participation in the field. A good ‘track-Â�record’ from earlier crises generates symbolic capital and respect. The field is held together by a common set of recognised values that can be illustrated by the strategic issues that guide the international actors that have gained a legitimate right to act in the eyes of other. These include, of course, the general humanitarian and political ones, but also when and in what way should the crisis management intervention and assistance begin?’ On the demand of whom? On the basis of what information? Who should take the lead? What will other actors than the EU do (NATO, the UN, etc.)? How should the needs be defined? What are the medium and longer term tasks? Indeed, it is difficult to understand the character of the field without including the practical sense that can in the heat-Â�of-moment ‘answer’ these questions. A sense which depends on the inter-Â�organisational tension and the tacit evaluation of competences and experiences gained from earlier crises. At stake is the elaboration and diffusion of the legitimate principles of geographical and resource limits for international humanitarian aid action. Basically, the principle concerns the question of how the global scene of crisis and disaster should be divided and how management responsibilities should be defined. The ultimate goal for each international player is to achieve a monopoly of providing these principles and thereby of the mobilisation of resources, groups, states, non-Â� governmental organisations etc. This would make their own particular tools objectified instruments of power.15 ‘At the back of their minds’, the involved actors attach a lot of importance to this tension in their everyday work and planning for future situations. It is the unquestioned conviction of all the participants that the struggle concerns these principles and that to a large extent holds the field together. Key social relations for the generative structure are the ones in which this struggle is expressed. This makes it not very meaningful to trace and isolate moments of ‘EU actions’ in the construction of structure (habitus), independent from the other main actors. Instead it is more correct to view the field as structured by relational practices and tensions in overlapping international organisations. See Figure 7.1. The competences, resources and instruments by the means of which the symbolic capital in the field are achieved are distributed unevenly among the actors. This creates a tension that is un-Â�consciously ‘remembered’ by the actors and forms their ‘knowledge’ of how to go on. The uneven distribution among the Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 89 UN-OCHA Council of Europe EADRCC NATO EU/ECHO Figure 7.1â•‡International actors involved in crisis management and humanitarian aid Assistance. main aid organs – EU-Â�ECHO, NATO-Â�EADRCC,16 UN-Â�OCHA, the Council of Europe – often leads to a tension that can explain the peculiar mix of coordination and competition in the field. Formally, every international actor is supposed to contribute a unique piece of the puzzle. In practice, they are largely overlapping, which makes each and every actor a part of a larger process they have in common. Of high generative significance is the channeling of resources of the international organisations from their member states to their humanitarian aid organs for implementation through contracts with non-Â�governmental actors closely cooperating with local authorities. There are a lot of tensions in these processes due for example to habitus’ ‘forgotten memory’ of the performance of the NGOs in the past. The international structure is characterised by information and decision networks of international organisations and non-Â�governmental implementation. It is a structure of non-Â�governmental implementation of non-Â� state decisions. Because the EU practices are so intertwined with other organisations’ activities – horizontally as well as vertically in nearly all phases of action – they are part of an international structuration. The integration in practical life is so tight that to conceive of a distinct EU foreign policy structure would only distort reality. Together with other international organisations possessing the recognised means and competences, EU actions both create and are the outcome of an international network. Consequently, the structure we are searching for in our study 90â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren of EU foreign policy might not be an ‘EU structure’. Instead our investigation so far points to an evolving international structure of crisis management. To sum up, the habitus of EU officials is oriented towards engagement and management in international crisis and disaster, and is adjusted to other actors’ moves so as to stay within the limits set by the unwritten division of labour and competition resulting from the field’s tension. On the basis of our case studies we can now tentatively define the interplay between EU agency and international structure. Agency Explaining EU agency only as a function of the revealed ‘international’ structure would leave out the choices of action in which the particular logic of EU crisis management might reside. It would risk seeing the EU actors as structural dopes. Neither would a one-Â�sided focus on the freedom of choice, constructed on the basis of subjective views of alternatives of action account for the structural constraints. It would overlook the complex agency–structure relationship in the many times un-Â�reflected strategic EU behaviours (which depend) on the current tension of the field. This includes not only the competition between the (potential) organisations involved but the strategic timing in the choices of action. In our case studies, the EU actors’ own sense of the situation was to a large extent determined by strategic time calculations of ‘the right moment’ for when decisions for crisis management could be taken, announced, implemented and prolonged. Plans were made both consciously in coordination with other organs and in the form of unconscious adjustments to foreseen up-Â�coming events. From the perspective of timing there were no independent EU, NATO, Council of Europe, UN or NGO actions. Instead, these were taken simultaneously, sequenced into each other over time and synchronised with the help of strategic calculations, predictions, anticipations, timing considerations – ‘when’–Â� questions. This does not mean that there was no overlapping and duplication of measures taken among the various actors. The synchronisation aimed at is not provided for by any formal leader, but achieved by the sharing of the same information, a hierarchy based on symbolic capital giving the UN a privileged status, and a sensitivity of each other’s status, competences, resources and moves, i.e. symbolic power. Tacit, unreflected, adjustment rather than conscious coordination shaped the interrelationships in the field. The very little knowledge of each others’ existence in the field, at least according to the interview answers, gives evidence to this interpretation. This ignorance was particularly striking in the case of the relation between the EU-Â�ECHO and NATO-Â�EADRCC. Some examples of EU agency, the case of the Turkish earthquakes (1999) for example, show that it was not self-Â�evident that the European Commission – despite the ‘international’ structure – should continue its crisis management in the reconstruction phase as well. There were choices for the Union representatives. The strategic moves by Commissioner van den Broek (responsible for humanitarian aid) and President Tarja Hallonen (EU president at the time), on Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 91 behalf of the Union were instrumental for the Union’s eventual decision to prolong its aid to Turkey into the reconstruction phase. There was room for subjective manouvre in the strategic forestalling of EU decisions of funding by van den Broek (that did not exist when he took the initiative). He based this on his ‘sense’ of a widespread feeling of European responsibility that eventually would result in formal decisions. Habitus disposed him for an action adapted to what he foresaw, towards the future. In ‘the heat of the moment’ the agent adjusts his action not only to what he sees in the present but what he foresees in an upcoming future, i.e. the ‘objective probabilities’ (Bordieu 1990: 81). In turn, the high-Â� level actions were only the top of an ice-Â�berg which was shaped by European contacts and international coordination structuring the field at lower levels at an earlier stage which preceeded the earthquake. Thus, the strategic room for manÂ� ouvre of Union representatives was not only defined by the international structure but also by complex intra-Â�institutional contacts and bargains within the Union. The European dimension of crises such as the reconstruction of Kosovo 1999, floodings in Central Europe 2002, Portuguese forest fires in 2003 and the Madrid bombings in 2004 was from the outset recognised by the EU collectivity which prompted it to act swiftly and forcefully in order not to jeopardise any trustÂ� worthiness with regard to taking a ‘European responsibility’. The common concern of this symbolic capital was a strong driving force behind agency. Habitus generated action for the protection of this capital. The capital was so Â�important that the financial resources allocated for the crisis management were, almost in all cases, not rationally calculated in relation to the size of the disaster and did not stand in proportion to the possibility of practical implementation. The engagement of institutions such as the European Parliament and the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe with no formal mandate and with little competence in crisis management and humanitarian aid, further witnessed of the strong symbolic basis of action. Our findings point to a new type of collective action for the EU agents involved. The agency–structure relationship reveals an EU actorness that could be defined as the capacity of the various actors to draw on ‘international’ structure in a synchronised manner. The tacit synchronisation for simultaneous action is based on informal leadership in horizontal networks, often held together by a strong feeling of European responsibility. Perhaps we are witnessing the contours of a unique dynamics and style of foreign policy agency? The existence of this agency might be analysed in terms of whether the agents drawing on the same structure also do it at the same time. This is in contrast to a definition based on formal organisational affiliations or material actor capabilities and interests. Our practice oriented approach helps us to define a new meaning of actorness better suited for the difficult examination of the EU’s role in international crisis management and humanitarian aid. EU agency is a question of to what an extent the actors disposed by the international structure, are – not only asserting a presence – but are acting in the same ‘present’. Our findings provide evidence of a distinct logic of practicality for the EU’s foreign policy role, unique in structure as well as agency. This can hardly be 92â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren subject to traditional foreign policy analysis. Our conclusions also challenge traditional explanations of EU foreign policy outcome as only ‘sub-Â�optimal’, ‘in-Â� efficient’, awaiting future transformation into a more efficient ‘normal’ style. The case studies on the agency–structure relationship have indicated that EU foreign policy, rather than being sub-Â�optimal, might have a logic of its own. Notes â•‡ 1 Programme for European Security Research (EUROSEC). â•‡ 2 United Nations, Charter of the United Nations, www.un.org/aboutun/charter/. â•‡ 3 Ulriksen (2004:Â€508–525). â•‡ 4 Interview, 11 February 2003. â•‡ 5 Interview with an official from the Commission’s civil protection unit, Directorate-Â� General for environment, 13 February 2003. â•‡ 6 http://ec.europa.eu/environment/civil/prote/mechanism.htm. â•‡ 7 Regulation (CE) n° 1257/96. â•‡ 8 United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. â•‡ 9 http://ec.europa.eu/echo/about/what/history_en.htm. 10 Behind the concept of logic of practice is the assumption that there is a fundamental difference between the logic of science and the logic of practice. The difference lies mainly in the perception and concept of time; while practice is inseparable from temporality, science is, according to Bourdieu, built on ‘intemporal time’. ‘Science has a time which is not that of practice’ (1990:Â€81). Bourdieu admits that it is very difficult to conceptualise and describe practice: ‘The logicism inherent in the objectivist viewpoint inclines one to ignore the fact that scientific construction cannot grasp the principles of practical logic without forcibly changing their nature’ (ibid.:Â€90). 11 Habitus can be thought of as ‘forgotten history’. This unconscious capacity for action has been described by Bourdieu as the result of incorporation into habitus of the objective structures for future-Â�oriented practices. Thus, habitus is shaped but not determined by social processes (Bourdieu 1977: 78). A ‘strategic’ act is an act by which the agent consciously tries to do something different from that which, through habitus, she normally would do. With the concept of strategy, Bourdieu shows that it is indispensable to account for the subject’s own view of his situation in order to fully explain actions. However, Bourdieu strongly emphasises that strategic calculations ‘are first defined, without any calculation, in relation to objective potentialities, immediately inscribed in the present as things to do or not to do, to say or not to say, in relation to a probable, “upcoming” future’ (1990:Â€ 53). In this way, he places the freedom of the subject within a ‘framework of possibility’. 12 Bourdieu has used the so-Â�called correspondence analysis for the mapping of fields. The method has been applied to inter alia aspects of the cultural (Bourdieu 1979:Â€209, 296, 392) and academic field in France (1984:Â€73, 111). He has developed this method on the ground of a critical assessment of traditional statistics, which, according to him, apriori presume that a certain correlation is of higher importance, and more decisive for the position and action of the studied objects, than others. The model should in Bourdieu’s words follow data, and not the other way around. By the means of qualitative data, Bourdieu and his students create two dimensional ‘maps’ over the actors’ position in the field. 13 The interviews were conducted using ‘open’ questions, facilitating in-Â�depth conversations about the experience of the respondents, but also a ‘reading between the lines’ of what could be interpreted as the informants’ implicit and unreflected commonsense. That is, the ‘background knowledge’ that generated his practice. The interviews lasted approximately one hour each. First, we spoke mainly with representatives from Agency and structure in EU foreign policy practicesâ•‡â•‡ 93 the Commission. In all cases, we plan to complement the existing material with interviews with EU member state representatives, other Union organs and local actors. Although we have conducted a number of interviews with the implementers of ECHO’s humanitarian assistance (e.g. UNHCR and the International Federation of the Red Cross), we are far from having included all NGO perspectives. Although many of the central decision-Â�makers at mid-Â�level are included in our studies, we do not sufficiently cover those at the top-Â�level (for example, the Commissioners’ Cabinet). Time is also a problem as these interviews were conducted after the crises (one year after the Turkish earthquakes, three years after the start of Kosovo reconstruction, two years after the tsunami, etc.). People tend to forget things over time and to (consciously or unconsciously) alter their descriptions. It should be noted, however, that oral material is but one of the many sources used in this study. By comparing the content of interviews with that of official documents – reports, press releases, media material, policies and regulations–we were able to view the interview material with a critical eye. 14 The full case studies are found in Ramberg (2005), Ekengren et al. (2006), Ekengren (2007), Boin et al. (2007) and Myrdal (2010). 15 In analogy with ‘objectified political capital’ (Bourdieu 1991: 181). 16 Euro-Â�Atlantic Disaster Response Coordination Centre (EADRCC). References Boin, A., Ekengren, M. and Rhinard, M. (eds) (2007). Protecting the European Union: Policies, sectors and institutional solutions. Report ACTA B 38. Stockholm: National Defence College. Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a theory of practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1979). La distinction – critique sociale du jugement. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit. Bourdieu, P. (1984). Homo Academicus. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit. Bourdieu, P. (1990). The logic of practice. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bourdieu, P. (1991). Language and symbolic power. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bretherton, C. and Vogler, J. (1999). The European Union as a global actor. London: Routledge. Carlsnaes, W. (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 36, 245–270. Carlsnaes, W. (1993). On analysing the dynamics of foreign policy change: A critique and reconceptualization. Cooperation and Conflict, 28(1), 5–30. Duke, S. and Ojanen, H. (2006). Bridging internal and external security: Lessons from the European security and defence policy. Journal of European Integration, 28, 477–494. Ekengren, M. (2002). The time of European governance. Manchester: Manchester Â�University Press. Ekengren, M., Matzén, N., Rhinard, M. and Svantesson, M. (2006). Solidarity or sovereignty? EU cooperation in civil protection. Journal of European Integration, 28(5), 457–476. Ekengren, M., Matzén, N. and Svantesson, M. (2006). The new security role of the European Union – Transnational crisis management and the protection of Union citizens. Report ACTA B 35. Stockholm: National Defence College. Ekengren, M. (2007). EU civil protection and the flooding in Austria, the Czech Republic, Germany and Slovakia 2002. In M. Britz, O. Bures, M. Ekengren, H. Moroff and 94â•‡â•‡ M. Ekengren C.-E. Stålvant (eds), Challenges and opportunities for societal security in an enlarged European Union. Report ACTA B 39. Stockholm: National Defence College. Gegout, C. (2005). Causes and consequences of the EU’s military intervention in the Democratic Republic of Congo: A realist explanation. European Foreign Affairs Review, 10(3), 427–443. Hollis, S. (2010). National participation in EU civil protection. Report ACTA B 42. Stockholm: National Defence College. Howorth, J. (2007). Security and defence in the European Union. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Jørgensen, K.E. (1997). Introduction. In K.E. Jørgensen (ed.), Reflective approaches to European governance. London: Macmillan. Merand, F. (2008). European defence policy: Beyond the nation state. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Myrdal, S. (2010). Signature case: The Haiti earthquake 2010. Paper presented at the conference navigating the Boundaries of EU crisis management, Sainte Maxime, 26–27 April. Pouliot, V. (2010). International security in practice: The politics of NATO–Russia diplomacy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ramberg, B. (2005). The two earthquakes in Turkey in 1999: International coordination and the European Commission’s preparedness. In S. Larsson, E.-K. Olsson and B. Ramberg (eds), Crisis decision making in the European Union. Crismart Publication ,Vol. 29. Stockholm: National Defence College. Sjöstedt, G. (1977). The external role of the European Community. Farnborough: Saxon House. Smith, M. (2003). Europe’s foreign and security policy: The institutionalization of cooperation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ulriksen, S., Gourlay, C. and Mace, C. (2004). Operation Artemis: The shape of things to come? International Peacekeeping, 11(3), 508–525. Versluys, H. (2008). Depoliticising and Europeanising humanitarian aid: Success or failure? Perspectives on European Politics and Society, 9(2), 208–224. Wijk, R. de (2004). Civil defence and solidarity clause: EU homeland defence. Paper prepared for the Directorate-Â�General for Research of the European Parliament, Brussels, 5 January. White, B. (2001). Understanding European foreign policy. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Whitman, R.G. (1998). From civilian power to superpower? The international identity of the European Union. Basingstoke: Macmillan. 8 Agents, structures and international regime significance Charles F. Parker Interest in international regimes has grown as states increasingly assemble and enter into rule-Â�based governance arrangements to direct behaviour and solve problems in a variety of issue areas, such as trade, security, human rights and the environment. Much of the scholarship on international cooperation, regimes, law, and institutions has focused on the debate over the importance and efficacy of international institutions, with the bulk of the attention being devoted to the subject of compliance (Parker 2011). Many scholars have maintained that regimes are superfluous and that power relations are the most reliable predictor of international outcomes and states often strive to avoid complying with inconvenient obligations (Strange 1983: 345; Mearsheimer 1994/1995; Thayer 1995). In cases where compliance rates are high, these scholars tend to see the outcome as the result of shallow agreements that reflect the law of the least ambitious party or have merely codified what states would have done even in the absence of an agreement (Downs et al. 1996). Elsewhere, I have maintained that international regimes are not necessarily ephemeral reflections of power capabilities and that since regimes are plentiful and potentially persuasive, more work should be done to evaluate their strengths and weaknesses and to pinpoint the specific ways particular regimes make or fail to make a difference in their issue areas (Parker 1999, 2001). There is now a great deal of scholarship devoted to this undertaking (Miles et al. 2001; Breitmeier et al. 2006), although much of it has concerned itself somewhat narrowly with compliance (Chayes and Chayes 1993; 1995; Downs et al. 1996; Dorn and Fulton 1997; Simmons 1998). But the relationship between compliance and significance is a murky one (Simmons and Martin 2002). I maintain that compliance is not sufficient for effectiveness let alone a broader conception of regime significance. I believe that the scholarship expressing skepticism that international regimes can be significant determinants of state behaviour or the work that has focused narrowly on the issue of compliance has done so, at least in part, because of a truncated view that regimes should be treated primarily as structural constraints or injunctions that may or may not be observed by states. In this chapter, I want to make the case that if we as scholars are to meaningfully engage with the question of regime significance, there is a need for greater 96â•‡â•‡ C.F. Parker conceptual clarity and that our ability to make sense of regime significance would benefit from a sophisticated understanding of agency and structure as exemplified in the work of Walter Carlsnaes (1992, 1994, 2008). International regimes (re)conceptualized International regimes, simply put, are issue-Â�area specific multilateral arrangements designed to govern behaviour and address a particular set of transnational problems. Regimes should be considered as social institutions that consist of some combination of identifiable agreed upon or practiced principles, norms, rules, procedures, and programmes (Krasner 1983: 2; Levy et al. 1995: 274; Young 1999: 10). When utilizing the regime approach, it is important to heed James Rosenau’s caveat that regimes are not independent actors in their own right (1986: 881). As critics, such as Andreas Behnke (1993: 18–19; 1995), have noted, practitioners of traditional regime approaches are often guilty of treating regimes as actors with independent causal power of their own. On the other end of the spectrum another group of scholars has treated regimes primarily as structural constraints or ‘explicit injunctions’ (see, for example, Haggard and Simmons 1987: 495; Jervis 1983). Properly understood, regimes are not treated as independent actors or solely as structural constraints, but as arrangements with complex agency– structure dynamics that provide a structured setting for interaction within a realm of international life and which can give rise to and enable entities – such as secretariats, organizations, and agencies – that, as components of the regime, can act in various ways in specific domains. Following Carlsnaes (1992, 2008), it is best to discard conceptualizations that treat agents and structures in a mutually exclusive fashion. Instead, regimes should be regarded as enabling and constraining arrangements that are constitutive of complex and interactive agency– structure characteristics and dynamics. International regimes are agent induced attempts to create arrangements and competencies that attempt to bind targeted actors to certain rules, and aspire to govern both states and groups within states. Regimes can be desirable because they represent attempts to bring things in line with higher objectives. However, regimes should be seen as more than just structural constraints on states1: they also enable state action by creating a distinct context for it to take place. Regimes, as Robert Keohane has shown (1984: 97–98, 100–102, 114–115), can be used to provide information, reduce transaction costs, and stabilize mutual expectations regarding future behaviour by providing a ‘long shadow of the future’, all of which can result in reductions in uncertainty and insecurity. Similarly, Keohane and Hoffmann (1993: 395–402) identify six roles for international institutions such as regimes: (1) as arenas for the exercise of influence; (2) as mechanisms to constrain bargaining strategies; (3) as instruments to balance against or replace other institutions; (4) as tools to signal governments’ intentions; (5) as ‘templates’ for policy choice; and (6) as instruments to affect the preferences of states. Agents, structures, international regime significanceâ•‡â•‡ 97 An effective regime is used to persuasively influence state behaviour within its issue area. International regimes can have an intersubjective affect on the international environment by providing arenas for state action and socialization that can meaningfully influence the collective reproduction of the international system and potentially contribute to its transformation.2 Regimes are arrangements, or enablers, that states create and work through and in cooperation with to accomplish certain objectives or outcomes. Institutions, regimes and organizations Within the IR literature it is not uncommon for the terms institutions, regimes and organizations to be used indiscriminately, interchangeably, contradictorily or without adequate definition or explanation (see, for example, Hoffmann 1998: 57–58; Martin and Simmons 1998; Gruber 2000). Because these terms have been used inconsistently and the relationship among them often goes unspecified, a considerable degree of conceptual confusion exists.3 I will simplify this complex subject as I see it in what follows and provide a working sketch of how these concepts can be understood and how they relate to one another. March and Olsen (1989: 160) have defined institutions as ‘collections of interrelated rules and routines that define appropriate actions in terms of relations between roles and situations’.4 According to Robert Keohane, international relations are institutionalized in the sense that ‘much behavior is recognized by participants as reflecting established rules, norms, and conventions, and its meaning is interpreted in light of these understandings’ (1989: 1).5 Institutional forms vary and can range from the general and informal to the specific and formal (cf. Keohane 1989: 3–5; Keohane et al. 1993: 4–5). International regimes, formal international organizations, and conventions (informal practices) have all been identified as institutional forms (Keohane 1989: 3–5). Although both regimes and organizations can be seen as institutional forms, it must be underlined that they are not synonymous (Hasenclever et al. 1997: 10–11). 6 However, a formal organization or agency can be a component of a regime. Regime arrangements or complexes may or may not be attached to or give rise to a formal international organization (cf. Hasenclever 1997: 10–11; Haas 1990, 172–173; Young 1980: 332–333). Formal organizations are concrete material entities possessing physical locations (headquarters), offices, budgets, equipment, a staff and legal personalities (Young 1989: 32; 1999: 7; Archer 1992: 2–3). Organizations are ‘purposive’ entities and have the (circumscribed) capacity to act (Keohane 1989: 3–4; Hasenclever et al. 1997: 11). Broadly speaking, there are two main varieties of international organizations: intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) and cross-Â�national nongovernmental or international non-governmental (INGOs) organizations.7 This chapter is primarily concerned with the former, because the international organizations that accompany and support regimes tend to be of the IGO variety.8 Unlike perspectives that treat international organizations simply as arenas in which actors pursue interests or as little more than permanent conferences 98â•‡â•‡ C.F. Parker (cf. Buzan and Little 2000: 266–267), I contend that international organizations can act independently and exercise power autonomously from the states that created them (Reinalda and Verbeek 1998; Barnett and Finnemore 1999).9 Although many international organizations can act autonomously, it is important to recognize that this capacity is not boundless. In the case of autonomous international organizations, while they may have a legal personality separate from their members, independent powers granted by their constitutions, and organs to act independently, they are still a collectivity of states and must be regarded as bounded agents with specific and circumscribed competencies delimited to particular areas of international life. The WTO in realm of trade,10 the IAEA in the realm of nuclear energy and nuclear non-Â�proliferation, and the OPCW in the realm of chemical weapons control are examples of entities that could be termed as bounded agents, because while they have considerable powers and freedom of action, these are not unlimited nor equivalent to those held by states.11 Thus, in line with scholars such as Keohane (1989) and Haas (1990),12 I take the position that international organizations can be viewed as purposive agents, but that their agency (ability to act) is circumscribed. The study of formal international organizations has a long history and there is a vast literature on the subject that I will not go into here.13 Instead, I will elaborate a bit further on the relationship of regimes and organizations and I will concisely discuss the status of organizations as autonomous actors and as arenas for interaction. Regimes can function without international organizations, although in some cases they are accompanied by organizations designed to support them in various ways. Conceptually, regimes are superordinate to their accompanying organizations (Haas 1990: 172). Thus, these organizations should be understood as components of the overarching regime (ibid.: 53, 172). For example, the nuclear non-Â�proliferation regime and the chemical weapons control regime both have formal organizations as component parts. In the case of the nuclear non-Â� proliferation regime, an existing international organization, the IAEA, International Atomic Energy Agency was formally tied to the NPT.14 While in the case of the chemical weapons control regime, the CWC (Article VIII) provided for the creation of an international organization, the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPWC). Many of the regime’s rules and procedures can be located in the organizations that are attached to them. Depending on their autonomy and powers,15 organizations also can perform a host of activities and functions on behalf of the regime and the regime’s member states, including the provision of information, the monitoring and verification of compliance16 and the sanctioning of non-Â�compliance. Additional influence can be exerted through agenda setting activities, policy-Â�making, and policy implementation. Organizations also can serve as consultative bodies or venues for interaction for member states regarding regime issues. Thus, organizations can be important both as agents and interactive arenas (cf. Kratochwil and Ruggie 1986: 773; Haas 1990: 172; Archer 1992: 141–153). These types of regime organization possess the ability to act through their secretariats and but also Agents, structures, international regime significanceâ•‡â•‡ 99 serve as forums for their member states (the IAEA General Conference and OPCW Conference of the States Parties, for example). Once again illustrating how regimes can constitute complex entities with actor and structure qualities. For these reasons it may indeed be useful to consider applying general institutional solutions – such as equipping a regime with an international organization to carry out monitoring and verification duties – to regimes with similar goals such as arms control. Also the ‘management’ and ‘enforcement’ approaches to compliance that are pitted against each other in the literature should be seen as complementary elements instead of competing alternatives. The measures suggested by these approaches should be merged to provide a continuum of measures to promote compliance as well as deter and detect non-Â�compliance. International organizations, such as the IAEA and the OPCW, are well suited to perform and carry out the valuable tasks identified by these two approaches. Even so, those looking for easy answers should be warned that these features are no panacea, and may perform better in one issue area than another due to discrete factors such as the technology in question and differences in the various behavioural complexes and institutional settings (Parker 2001). Regimes as enabling and constraining institutions Thus, it can be argued that regimes are social institutions that represent both constraints on, and possibilities for, state action by organizing arrangements for the interaction of state actors and, in many cases, giving rise to and enabling purposive agents that can engage in a range of activities – regulatory, surveillance, sanctioning, resource provision, capacity building, etc. – in specific issue areas. If regimes are understood as arrangements created for norm directed behaviour within particular spheres of international life, one is then able to appreciate the following contribution from Friedrich Kratochwil (1989: 11): ‘Norms are therefore not only “guidance devices,” but also the means which allow people to pursue goals, share meaning, communicate with each other, criticize assertions, and justify actions.’ Furthermore, the normative framework provided by regimes allows states a context in which to develop behavioural habits that can be built up and sustained across time by processes of political socialization and learning; in other words, a regime can serve as a forum for the formation of habit driven actors (Rosenau 1986: 886). Regimes can influence and shape interests, behaviour, instrumentality (the way actors connect their preferences to policy choices), and outcomes. From a new intitutionalist norms perspective, state behaviour is not strictly determined by decision-Â�makers’ rational calculations of the state’s national security interests or their parochial bureaucratic interests, but by deeper norms and shared beliefs about what actions and policies are legitimate and appropriate in international relations (Sagan 1996/97: 73; Kowert and Legro 1996: 461–465; Franck 1990: 205–207; Henken 1979; Sundelius 1980: 193). Roles, routines and rituals are extremely consequential to individuals and organizations for, although individuals may indeed have ‘interests’, these interests are not formed in a 100â•‡â•‡ C.F. Parker vacuum (March and Olsen 1989). Interests are shaped by the social roles actors are asked to play, are pursued according to convention and favoured routines as much as through thought out decision making, and are embedded in a social environment that designates and favours certain structures as appropriate and legitimate and ‘denigrates others as irrational and primitive’ (Sagan 1996/1997: 74; Scott 1995; Powell and DiMaggio 1991; Meyer and Scott 1992). International regimes can contribute to this intersubjective process and can thereby serve the important function of both shaping and reflecting a state’s interests, identity and behaviour. The understanding of regimes expressed here implies a sophisticated relationship between agent and structure and the way they affect each other. Traditional international relations theory generally takes an objectivist stance that separates agent from structure. One example of this is the conception of the state as a rational-Â�unitary actor – the rational decision-Â�maker approach – that emphasizes the primacy of the individual: ‘It does so by attributing to the individual an ability to objectivize her circumstances as a series of choices to which she responds rationally’ (Onuf 1989: 56). Another example of this is structuralism, which emphasizes the social whole over the individual. Kenneth Waltz’s theories of international politics and balance of power are prime examples of neorealist structuralism. Waltz argues that structural forces produce outcomes regardless of the intentions or awareness of the units (1986a: 118–120).17 Waltz writes: ‘According to the theory, balances of power tend to form whether some or all states consciously aim to establish and maintain a balance, or whether some or all states aim for universal domination’ (ibid.: 118–119). Waltz claims what is explained is ‘the constraints that confine all states’ (ibid.: 122). The work of scholars such as Walter Carlsnaes (1992, 1994, 2008) and others (Wendt 1987, 1999; Wendt and Duvall 1989; Wight 2007) represents an effort to achieve a more adequate understanding of the agent–structure relationship in international relations The perspective advocated here builds on Carlsnaes’ view that actions are not only affected by structures but in turn subsequently affect them and that this interplay occurs in a continuous interactive cycle which indicates the ‘mutually dynamic relationship between the two over time as well as the inherently constraining and enabling character of the structural domain’ (1994: 284–285). Thus, the more sophisticated conception of the agent–structure relationship forwarded by Carlsnaes dovetails with the view of regimes sketched above as constituting arrangements with enabling as well as constraining impacts. This opens the door for more multi-Â�dimensional understandings of regime significance. As I have tried to show elsewhere, regime significance can potentially have a number of different faces (Parker 2001). Regimes can matter functionally and normatively as standard setting instruments, points of reference, assurance mechanisms, forums for interaction, policy tools, for, in some cases, giving rise to purposive agents, and for their overall issue area impact. Agents, structures, international regime significanceâ•‡â•‡ 101 Concluding reflections In the years ahead, additional work, methodological and conceptual, will be needed to help us better understand and evaluate international regime significance. Moreover, more effort needs to be expended to improve our understanding of the relationship between compliance and the influence exerted by international institutions, regimes, and agreements. The dense thicket of longstanding and emerging transnational problems that demand international solutions ensures that the subject of international cooperation and the challenge of international regime significance will be of enduring relevance and interest to scholars and practitioners alike. As this work proceeds researchers will need to think carefully about agency–structure dynamics, fortunately they will have the advantage of being able to draw on the important insights contained in Walter Carlsnaes’ rich scholarship in this area. Notes â•‡ 1 This view of regimes as structural constraints can be found in Robert Jervis’ (1983) more traditional modified structuralist approach, or Haggard and Simmons’ treatment of regimes as ‘explicit injunctions’ (1987: 495). â•‡ 2 This understanding of regimes (as a context for state action and socialization) is similar to what Katzenstein (1996: 19) describes as the cultural-Â�institutional context of state action. In his words: ‘Cultural-Â�institutional contexts do not merely constrain actors by changing the incentives that shape their behaviour. They do not simply regulate behaviour. They also help to constitute the very actors whose conduct they seek to regulate’ (22). â•‡ 3 Variations of this complaint can be found in Archer (1992: 2), Haas (1990: 172–173), Rochester (1986: 800) and Stein (1983: 115), among others. For a detailed discussion on institutions, regimes and organizations, see Young (1989: 25–27, 32–37). â•‡ 4 W. Richard Scott’s complex definition states: ‘Institutions consist of cognitive, normative, and regulative structures and activities that provide stability and meaning to social behavior. Institutions are transported by various carriers – cultures, structures, and routines – and they operate at multiple levels of jurisdiction’ (1995: 33). â•‡ 5 Robert Keohane has defined institutions as ‘persistent and connected sets of rules (formal and informal) that prescribe behavioral roles, constrain activity, and shape expectations’ (1989: 3). With Haas and Levy, ‘practices’ was added to this definition (Keohane et al. 1993: 4). â•‡ 6 In their excellent book Theories of International Regimes, Hasenclever et al. (1997: 10–11) offer some useful clarity on these issues. They declare that international regimes are international institutions, and that regimes and organizations both represent a type of international institution. However, although international regimes can include or be supported by international organizations, they ‘are neither synonymous (i.e. have the same meaning) nor co-Â�extensional (i.e. refer to the same entities)’ (10). Unfortunately, they do not completely escape from the conceptual confusion surrounding these issues. Somewhat contradictorily, they later state that ‘regimes per se do not constitute social institutionsâ•›.â•›.â•›.’ (21). â•‡ 7 There are, of course, many ways of categorizing international organizations. In addition to IGOs, in which the membership consists of states, and INGOs, in which membership is composed of nonstate transnational actors, there also exist hybrid international organizations open to both state and nonstate actors as well as supranational organizations. There is a difference between the first three types of organizations 102â•‡â•‡ C.F. Parker and supranational organizations. While IGOs, INGOs and hybrid INGOs can be more or less autonomous, they all remain subordinate to the state (cf. Buzan and Little 2000: 266). In contrast, a supranational organization, such as the EU, is generally considered to be one which has power to take decisions, directly binding upon individual, institutions, and enterprises, as well as upon the governments of the states in which they are situated, and in which they must carry out notwithstanding the wishes of such governments. (Shearer 1994: 550) Of course, the competencies and powers of supranational organizations such as the EU are restricted to certain areas as well. â•‡ 8 Unless otherwise specified, my usage of international organizations refers to IGOs. â•‡ 9 Barnett and Finnemore (1999), for example, forcefully advocate viewing IOs as autonomous actors that can wield power independently of the states that create them. They argue that this power emanates from two sources: ‘(1) the legitimacy of the rational-Â�legal authority they embody, and (2) control over technical expertise and Â�information’ (707). 10 For an examination of the WTO as an international organization, see Krueger (1998). 11 For further discussion, see, among others, Shearer (1994: 543–549), White (1996: 27–53), Barnett and Finnemore (1999) and Buzan and Little (2000). On one end of the spectrum, White argues that conceptually international organizations have a legal personality equivalent to states, and, in theory, have the same rights and duties as states, although he concedes that states are functionally supreme to international organizations in practice (1996: 52–53). Buzan and Little take the opposite view and argue that international organizations do not deserve to be treated as independent actors, which they are only in the weakest sense, and instead view them more as glorified permanent conferences (2000: 266–267). Shearer expresses what could be seen as an intermediate view and explains that while international organizations have an independent legal personality, they are not legally equivalent to states (1994: 547). 12 For other examples, see Barnett and Finnemore (1999), Reinalda and Verbeek (1998) and Cox and Jacobson (1973). 13 Consult Verbeek (1998), Ness and Brechin (1988) and Rochester (1986) for overviews of this literature. 14 INFCIRC/153 The Structure and Content of Agreements between the Agency and States Required in Connection with the Treaty on the Non-Â�Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, June 1972. 15 A number of factors, including its constitution or charter, its organs (the possession of a permanent secretariat), practice (policy initiatives taken by its executive body and the direction and funding of the organization through its general conference) and the support of the membership determine how autonomous an organization actually is. 16 According to Anthony Giddens (1985: 12), an organization is: ‘a collectivity in which knowledge about the conditions of system reproduction is reflectively used to influence, shape or modify that system reproduction’. This is closely tied with surveillance, which is the ‘control of information and the superintendence of the activities of some groups by others’ (ibid.: 2). Thus, the IAEA and the OPCW, for example, can be said to be aspects of the reflective monitoring of the inter-Â�state system concerned with the international surveillance of nuclear and chemical weapon acquisition and capabilities. 17 It should be noted that many criticisms of Waltz and neo-Â�realism (realist systemic approaches) fail to acknowledge that Waltz accepts that this approach leaves much of the details of international politics unexplained and therefore needs to be supplemented by other theories (Waltz 1986b: 322–345). In a recent debate article, Waltz writes: ‘An international-Â�political theory can explain states’ behavior only when external pressures dominate the internal disposition of states, which seldom happens. When they do not, a theory of international politics needs help’ (1996: 57). 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Knud Erik Jørgensen Introduction The emergence of a (common) European foreign policy and thereby the (re-)emergence of Europe in world politics is among the most significant novel features of international relations during the past two decades. Moreover, it is a development that should be capable of triggering an increased interest in properly understanding European foreign policy. The purpose of this chapter is to explore the potential consequences of making two seemingly small changes in terms of analytical perspective. The first ‘small’ change I have in mind is substituting a vertical with a horizontal perspective, i.e. instead of focusing endlessly on relations between member states and EU institutions, I focus on contending foreign policy traditions. The second ‘small’ change is to focus on the politics of foreign policy instead of on policy per se. The general aim of the chapter is to contribute to an explorative endeavour, an attempt to try out arguments, rather than summarise the conclusion of a multiple year research project. Whether we are considering analytical or theoretical approaches, vertical perspectives have dominated horizontal perspectives. Concerning analytical approaches, Christopher Hill (1983, 1996) has paved the way by means of focusing on national foreign policy traditions as a means of understanding advances in policy-Â�making at the European level. While downplaying Europe as a collective actor vis-Â�á-vis other global actors, Hill managed to (re-)connect policy-Â�making at national and European levels. Ian Manners and Richard Whitman (2001; see also Hadfield et al. 2012) have continued this tradition, yet also experienced the increasingly practical difficulties of including ever more member states. Concerning theoretical approaches, it is most revealing to briefly scan developments during the last 50 years. Among classical theories of integration, both neo-Â�functionalism and intergovernmentalism focused on whether some kind of European (supranational) political community would be feasible. While it is well-Â�known that they disagreed on the conclusion, they did share an interest in the vertically structured relationship between member states and European institutions. Also various realism-Â�informed approaches and neoliberal institutionalist perspectives have a pronounced interest in understanding relations between states (power) and international (European) institutions. Finally, the major non-Â�substantive approaches, 110â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen whether principal–agent analysis, rational choice or (parts ofâ†œ) social constructivism, also share an interest in understanding relations between member states and European institutions. Thus, principal–agent analysts focus on principals (member states) and their agents (European institutions), while employing the standard registers the approach is known for. Rational choice-Â�informed scholars focus on why rational actors (member states or governments) cooperate, engage in strategic bargaining or design institutions. Social constructivists, at least some, start off with (national) identity and proceed by means of analysing how identity causes interests, in turn causing policies. To be sure, these analytical or theoretical perspectives have produced excellent studies and significantly contributed to our knowledge of the dynamics of European foreign policy. However, as with any avenue of inquiry, there is also a downside. The vertical perspective tends to downplay the EU as a union – a collective actor – cultivating relations with states, regional groupings and international institutions around the world (on relations with international institutional, see Jørgensen and Laatikainen 2012). Indeed, the vertical perspective tends to produce somewhat biased studies, often Europe-Â� introvert and, thus, downplaying the global context in which the EU is situated. In other words, the vertical perspective on relations between member states and EU institutions tends to exclude factors external to Europe, whether major actors, global norms or international institutions. Moreover, the vertical perspective potentially reifies national perspectives (for example, interests or traditions) and, thus, downplays both possible common features of significance that might exist across national boundaries and international factors influencing institutions and policy-Â� making processes within the European Union. This is where the first seemingly small change in perspective comes into the picture. Specifically, what would be the consequences of changing to a horizontal perspective? Which avenues of inquiry would thereby be opened and which analytical challenges or weaknesses can be foreseen? Concerning the change from policy to politics, it has no less fundamental consequences for the research agenda. Rather than logging or rationalising the swings and turns of given policies, a focus on the politics of European foreign policy leads us to examine foreign policy attitudes at the level of both elite and general public. Moreover, the patterns of contending worldviews and general preferences will move to centre court, including change over time. Finally, we would begin to analyse relations between general dispositions (policy paradigms, discursive structures) and policy dilemmas. Horizontal perspectives on European foreign policy Most European states have long traditions in the conduct of foreign policy, indeed Europe has been the historical prototype of international society and, in the discipline of International Relations prominent theoretical models have been based on or extracted from this prototype. Historically, international politics simply meant politics among European nations. However, the emergence of a (common) European foreign policy and thereby the (re-)emergence of Europe in Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 111 world politics has added some significant features to contemporary international relations. Beginning modestly with experiments in common trade and development policy, followed by attempts at coordinating foreign policy (European Policy Cooperation (EPC), Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP), and ever more issue areas being added to the common policy portfolio, the European Union is today increasingly seen as an international actor in its own right and, in some issue areas, as an emerging superpower. Hence, the system of policy making has become double-Â� layered (national and European), a feature requiring ingenious legal-Â�institutional arrangements. As it happens, the process of treaty reform has produced a dynamic series of such arrangements. However, the double-Â�layered system also requires a process of epistemic reorientation and reconsideration, i.e. processes related to the ‘software’ of policy-Â� making, to broad concepts that are tied to values and moral principles, i.e. to so-Â�called public philosophies or policy paradigms, embedded in foreign policy traditions that might exist across national boundaries. The enduring political debates on these ‘software’ issues constitute what I call the politics of European foreign policy, at least part of such politics.1 One cluster of questions presents itself as being particularly important and intriguing, related to the genesis and dynamics of foreign policy traditions and their impact on policy. How do public philosophies organise the politics of European foreign policy? What are the properties of these philosophies and how do they generate and reproduce traditions? Should we expect public philosophies directing policy-Â�making? How or to which extent does the politics of foreign policy change over time? How do these philosophies contribute to define the ‘common’ in the common European foreign policy? Instead of focusing on national foreign policy traditions or a singular European foreign policy tradition, this chapter aims at identifying the major contending European foreign policy traditions. The employment of the term ‘tradition’ suggests that patterns of attitude or belief systems among European foreign policy elites will be fairly stable along a limited number of positions or orientations. Previous research can serve as an inspirational point of departure. Ole R. Holsti and James N. Rosenau (1990) point out how efforts to label differences often have obscured commonality. Their point is highly relevant for the argument forwarded in this essay because it might well be that labelling differences concerning national foreign policy traditions obscure European commonalities. Because the issue has not been part of our research agenda, it remains largely unknown whether or not this is the case. Sources of inspiration Having thoroughly reviewed the existing literature, it is clear that there are no major studies of the politics of European foreign policy to reconstruct or to criticise, i.e. some of the major methods of upgrading approach and knowledge are not available.2 However, the review does suggest that there are four main sources 112â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen that are highly promising for the analysis of horizontal dimensions of European foreign policy: 1 2 3 4 Research on American elite attitudes (Holsti and Rosenau 1990, 1996).3 Research on American foreign policy traditions (Mead 2002; Nau 2002; 2008; Kane 2008; Nordlinger 1996; Hellmann 1996). Research on political ideology and European foreign policy (Carlsnaes 1986, 2002, 2007; Holbraad 2003; Sylvest 2009). Research on public philosophies (Weir 1992; Schumaker 2008). Holsti and Rosenau analyse foreign policy attitudes among American leaders and use survey methods for the purpose. However, in the present context it is primarily their typologies that are of interest. Basically, they combine two dimensions, military internationalism and cooperative internationalism, and ask elites whether they support or oppose these forms of internationalism. The combination produces four types, labelled ‘internationalists’, ‘accomodationists’, ‘hardliners’ and ‘isolationists’. Holsti and Rosenau favour starting off with dimensions, rather than types, arguing it makes it easier to possibly extend the number of dimensions if need be. They are aware of the methodological problem that a focus on dimensions by definition makes differences between dimensions relatively bigger than differences within dimensions. As they point out, this is an unavoidable bias and essentially any analytical choice implies a trade-Â�off of some sort. They also point out that the types are not equal in terms of significance. In other words, some are more densely populated than others and the distribution of intellectual power changes over time. Finally, they point out that the isolationist type is the one that internally is the most heterogeneous, displaying a very rich diversity of attitudes. While Holsti and Rosenau’s approach produces great insights into the diversity of attitudes among American elites, the present context prompts us to the logical follow-Â�on question, namely, whether the approach can be applied to the case of the European Union. In other words, in addition to having conventional methodological nationalism shaping our inquiries it might make sense also to analyse the distribution of attitudes among European elites. As Thomas Diez, Markus Jachtenfuchs and Sabine Jung (1999) have pointed out, there are contending perspectives on or models of legitimate European governance. It is likely that the same applies when it comes to European leaders and their attitudes to foreign policy. The difference is that Diez et al. focus on contending perspectives along national lines, whereas I focus on contending traditions across member states. Finally, as mechanical application is seldom the most appropriate or rewarding approach, both the kind of dimensions and the labels of the types might need to be changed. Europe’s colonial tradition as well as its extension, development policy, might qualify as a tradition that does not exist to the same extent in the United States. By contrast, Europe’s anti-Â� Americanism is mirrored by America’s anti-Â�Europeanism, and functioned as one of the rationales for founding the United States. Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 113 The second inspirational source also begins in the United States, more precisely with studies of foreign policy traditions. Several authors employ this notion and their studies demonstrate that it is an approach characterised by great potential. The notion of ‘foreign policy tradition’ enables Walter Russell Mead (2002) to produce a grand narrative of American foreign policy ever since the nation was founded. As with most narratives, it is a narrative that is told from a certain position. Mead argues that American foreign policy has been informed or shaped by four traditions, labelled after famous American leaders/presidents (Hamiltonian, Jeffersonian, Wilsonian and Jacksonian) and that these four political mindsets have been in perpetual competition to determine the appropriate means and ends of American foreign policy. This might explain the considerable changes over time of the priorities of American policy-Â�makers as well as some of the differences between Democratic and Republican administrations as well as differences between administrations or within political parties such as Bill Clinton and Barack Obama or between Ronald Reagan and George Bush. Also Henry Nau (2002, 2008) employs the notion of tradition, first to analyse how a combination of power and identity theoretical perspectives allows us to avoid some of the weaknesses that a single-Â�perspective seemingly by necessity produces. Nau introduces foreign policy traditions in his outline of the identity perspective and subsequently uses the insight to avoid the analytical weaknesses that a mechanical international distribution of power can lead to. His traditions are labelled slightly differently to those of Mead and are to some degree overlapping, with labels used to categorise theoretical traditions within international relations. Such potentially problematic issues need not distract us in the present context. Instead, I will briefly introduce Nau’s (2008) second engagement with foreign policy traditions, i.e. his presentation of what he labels conservative internationalism. He argues that this tradition is not as recognised as another famous family tradition (i.e. liberal internationalism) but recognised or not, it is most suitable for the endeavour to understand the foreign policy of republican presidents since Ronald Reagan and, notably, also the foreign policy of President Obama. Indeed, Nau (2010) has been among the first to conceptualize Obama’s foreign policy priorities. Finally, John Kane (2008) is no stranger to the software or the mindsets of the foreign policy traditions introduced above. He explores the relationship between virtue and power, arguing that American foreign policy has been characterised by a persistent moral dilemma. He explains that he first became aware of the dilemma during the Vietnam War when the US conduct of war somehow was at odds with the highly prized American virtues. As the story seemed to repeat itself during the Iraq War, it prompted Kane to write his book which is essentially an excellent exploration of the American mind, when it comes to the making of foreign policy. Having now briefly introduced three slightly different yet similar approaches to American foreign policy, the question arises as to whether foreign policy traditions, however labelled, also characterises the politics of European foreign policy. The studies examined above suggest four major American foreign policy traditions: 114â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen • • • Holsti and Rosenau: hard-Â�liners, internationalists, accomodationists and isolationists; Nau: neo-Â�isolationist or nationalist, realist, primacist and internationalist; Mead: Hamiltonian, Wilsonian, Jeffersonian and Jacksonian. We do not know whether these categories apply to the case of Europe because no one has so far bothered to ask the question, let alone attempted to answer it. In other words, approaches do exist yet solutions are still missing. In his foreign policy model, Walter Carlsnaes (1986, 2002) introduces what he calls ‘structural dispositions’. Seemingly there are strong affinities between structural dispositions and foreign policy traditions/public philosophies. In other words, the two latter notions can be used to colour Carlsnaes’ category of ‘structural dispositions’. This leads me to the third inspirational source, namely, Carsten Holbraad’s (2003; see also Halliday 1988) analysis of European political ideologies and their interface to nationalism and internationalism, respectively. His point of departure is the classical troika of European political ideologies, conservatism, liberalism and socialism, the argument being that each of these political ideologies has experienced its encounters with both nationalism and internationalism. Hence, Holbraad ends up with a typology and a two by three matrix, consisting of six cells. His main objective is to present an overview of the ideas or – isms that have conditioned the international order of the European continent. The hypothesis is that the political order has been structured by the interaction between competing and overlapping trends of internationalisms and nationalisms. By emphasising the plurality of the two concepts, Holbraad draws attention to a central claim, namely, that internationalism and nationalism have been manifested in European political thought in various forms and shapes. By tracing down the origins and developments of conservative, liberal and socialist traditions, he seeks to analyse how they have manifested themselves in the conduct of European politics in the latter part of the twentieth century. For Holbraad, internationalism does not necessarily entail optimistic approaches towards cooperation or cosmopolitan aspirations, but represents as a starting point the ‘ideology of international bonding’ (2003: 1). The general purposes of such bonding differ greatly, which is why it is necessary to analyse internationalism from three different perspectives. Similarly, Holbraad’s understanding of nationalism is more ‘empty’ than the normal understanding of the term. Nationalism, according to Holbraad, comes in the same three broad ‘ideal types’, i.e. the conservative, liberal and socialist versions. As such, Holbraad describes nationalism and internationalism as ‘opposite sets of political forces’, but since they come in various forms and shapes Holbraad allows for a detailed analysis of not only how the concepts have clashed but also the frequent interplay between different versions of the two perspectives. Conservative internationalism is probably the version that stands furthest away from conventional connotations of the term ‘internationalism’. As a ‘lowest common denominator’ approach to international affairs, conservative internationalism can be understood as the ‘mere awareness of a shared interest in Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 115 security and survival’. This approach can be traced back to the peace of Westphalia and the maintenance of the balance of power, and is closely connected with political realism, characterised by its emphasis on a strong separation of foreign and domestic politics. Liberal internationalism is the broadest category of internationalist thought, but similarly contains a wide variety of sub-Â�categories (which, not surprisingly, reflects the definitional morass more generally associated with liberalism in political theory). Despite liberalism’s core focus on individual rights and prosperity, Holbraad draws attention to the highly different preferences as to how these ends are achieved. Agreeing that peace and prosperity are necessary components, liberal internationalism has focused on means ranging from free trade to integrationist policies. Finally, socialist internationalism can best be defined by its aspiration to reduce inequalities existing between peoples, with a sharp division between those advocating revolutionary means and those advocating domestic reforms and strengthening of state power combined with international organisation, as the best way forward. Conservative nationalism has been manifest in European politics since earliest times, and often as reactions to waves, or periods, of liberal and socialist internationalist influences. This pattern can still be traced, as the balance between reconciliation of national interests and the organisation of international relations is still at heart of modern European politics as witnessed in the upsurge of conservative nationalist parties in Europe over the last decade. Liberal nationalism can be seen as distinguished in its belief in the nation state as the primary place of ‘individual fulfillment and prosperity’. As such, the doctrine of national self-Â�determination is strongly associated with liberal nationalism and in particularly opposed to the doctrine of socialist internationalism, but also other forms of internationalism that are seen as threatening liberal values. Finally, socialist nationalism, according to Holbraad, is a twentieth-Â�century phenomenon, that can be traced to the revision of socialist thought and the ‘nationalisation’ of socialist ideology. In summary, one of Holbraad’s main arguments is that challenges, originating in a balance, or equilibrium, between the forms of nationalisms and internationalisms, has been and will continue to be the key question governing European political affairs. As Holbraad’s argument suggests, far from being linear, the political history of Europe has been a persistent patterns of action/re-Â�action, where conservative, liberal and socialist versions of internationalism and nationalism have pushed in different directions, in reaction, or as a challenge, to trends and developments. The European international organisation over the last half century should thus be seen partly as a reaction to former periods of nationalism, and current forms of conservative nationalism can likewise be seen as opposition to the prevailing liberal internationalism and its organisational manifestations. One of the strongest aspects of Holbraad’s argument is the understanding of various forms of internationalism and nationalism and their relevance for the analysis of European politics, for example, ‘to conceive nationalism as not merely the outcome of particular social and political circumstances on the Â�domestic scene but also as a reaction or challenge to certain ideological trends and political developments’ (Holbraad 2003: 173). 116â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen The fourth and final source of inspiration consists of the engaging and promising literature on the role of public philosophies. The point of departure is that the term ‘policy’ surely is popular among political scientists yet also severely over-Â�burdened with analytical functions, this makes conceptual unpacking very necessary. For this reason it is difficult to underestimate the analytical importance and possibilities embedded in the distinction between public philosophy, programmatic ideas (policy) and administrative programmes, the former coined by Samuel H. Beer (1978), elaborated by Margaret Weir (1992) and recently refined by Paul Schumaker (2008). Public philosophies promise that they enable policy debates as an alternative to ideological warfare. We have seen that foreign policy traditions are relative stable and coherent clusters of ideas about ends and means in foreign policy. Specific traditions are based on distinct public philosophies. In the words of Margaret Weir, public philosophy, expresses broad concepts that are tied to values and moral principles and that can be represented in political debate in symbols and rhetoric. .â•›.â•›. Public philosophies play a central role in organizing politics, but their capacity to direct policy is limited; without ties to programmatic ideas their influence is difficult to sustain. (1992: 207–208) Political rhetoric is often characterised by vague notions, ambiguity and generous inconsistency, leaving plenty of space for connotation. Sometimes, it is precisely such qualities that make political rhetoric work. According to Paul Schumaker, Public philosophies, like political ideologies, provide fairly comprehensive and coherent sets of ideas about politics. Both provide beliefs about how political communities are governed, ideals about the goals that should be sought by political communities, and principles providing broad guidelines for achieving those goals. (2008: 1) Schumaker not only defines public philosophy, he also provides a framework for generating, describing and analysing public philosophies. The four sources of inspiration all look promising in asking the right questions and subsequently finding answers to the key problematique of this chapter. In the following section I will outline some analytical bridgeheads that can serve as interface to the inspirational sources. Approaching applications As we have just seen existing studies provide fascinating information concerning American foreign policy, yet also subsequently trigger intriguing questions: for example, whether such traditions also exist in Europe, perhaps being similar to Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 117 American traditions in some respects and not in others. Several indications suggest that it is promising to follow the American example at least for an inspirational start. The four sets of literature outlined above can serve as sources of inspiration, but it will take considerable more effort to outline a proper research agenda and to actually analyse European foreign policy traditions, even without providing a comprehensive answer to the question asked in the heading of this chapter. What can be done in the present context is to examine a number of tentative beginnings. More specifically, the exploration in this chapter is based on four indicators suggesting the existence of European foreign policy traditions. First, according to Walter R. Mead, the origin of the Wilsonian tradition should be found in the United Kingdom, specifically in the British liberal tradition, and also among ‘the Protestant, Germanic-Â�language speaking peoples of northern Europe’ (2002: 137–138). Indeed, there are several studies of liberal internationalism in several EU member states (cf. also Sylvest 2007, 2009). Similarly, Henry Nau has emphasised that his conception of foreign policy traditions might be universally applicable even if he has only applied it to the case of the United States. In any case, both proponents and critics agree that the liberal internationalist tradition has to a considerable extent informed the making of European foreign policy during both the Prodi and the Barroso Commissions. European (liberal) values have been highlighted, including the need to promote or project these values internationally and, within both policy and scholarly communities, where Europe has been presented as a normative power (Manners 2002). The sponsorship of multilateral institutions, with the United Nations at the heart, has become one of the main objectives of European foreign policy (Aggestam 2004), indeed, multilateralism has been cherished as both a means and not least a political end that is valuable in itself. Subsequently, this shared understanding has enabled the emergence of ‘effective multilateralism’ as a key objective in the European Security Strategy (2003; see also Biscop 2005). Furthermore, research on the role of values and principles in foreign policy suggests that the values/principles and ethics/morality relationship is more complex than often assumed (Lucarelli and Manners 2006). Military interventions have not been excluded, specifically not when the objective is saving strangers (Wheeler 2000). The EU has been involved in several interventions but intervening in Iraq (as part of the US-Â�led invasion) was something the EU could not do. Instead the EU became/was deeply divided over the Iraq issue. Critics of liberal internationalism share the analysis yet are concerned about the outcome. John Mearsheimer (1994) has voiced strong criticism of the false promise of international institutions and though his target mainly was fellow-Â� academics, his point of departure was the liberal internationalism that characterised the Clinton administration. Jean-Â�Yves Haine (2009) echoes much of Mearsheimer’s criticism – indeed, Haine’s article can be characterised as standard realist critique of liberal orientations – yet his target is European liberal internationalism, claimed to experience a crisis. In this fashion, continuity can be traced back to E.H. Carr’s and Hans Morgenthau’s classical critiques of liberal thinking. While such continuity is interesting in itself, what is relevant in the 118â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen present context is that Haine’s criticism suggests both the existence of European foreign policy traditions and their diversity and contending or competitive nature. Second, even if predominant, European liberal internationalism, might not be the only foreign policy tradition that has shaped European foreign policy during the last 10–20 years. Hamiltonian foreign policy priorities might also have been influential. Big Business Europe has obvious commercial interest and, according to critics, the Directorate General for Trade (DG Trade) knows and promotes these interests. Hence, we should perhaps talk about Corporate Power Europe rather than Normative Power Europe. In any case, Big Business Europe has a strong interest in creating an extended home (the Single European Market), enlarging the home (processes of enlargement) and, to promote a global market (World Trade Organization (WTO) and Doha round). Representatives of the tradition share with American Hamiltonians a strong interest in keeping sea lanes open for commercial activity and expect European naval units to provide the service, whether in the Persian Gulf during the Iran–Iraq war during the 1980s (WEU joint minesweeping operation), off the coast of Somalia (operation Atalanta) or elsewhere. The idea of lifting the weapons embargo vis-Â�à-vis China did not exactly contradict the interests of the tradition, yet the strategic priority of alignment with the major military power also counts. Finally, Big Business Europe has an interest, despite corporate social responsibility, in downplaying most of the normative values promoted by liberal internationalists and analysed by scholars with an interest in this kind of ethical foreign policy. Third, European isolationists have a hard time in shaping European foreign policy. Partly because they are, as with American likeminded isolationists, a highly diverse and internally heterogeneous grouping. Notably, their isolationist attitudes prompt them to reject the European enterprise in the first place. Hence, when not feeling or enjoying ownership to the construction of Europe, it is very difficult to play a prominent role in shaping Europe’s changing foreign policy direction. Instead, isolationists may express concern about foreign adventures or the decline of democracy in Europe, i.e. nurturing the democratic deficit issue, or simply make pleas to cultivate our own (national or regional) gardens first and foremost. The contemporary proliferation of far right politics in Europe might trigger increasing efforts at understanding the role of ‘the international’ in this kind of politics. Fourth, the employment of terms such as tradition and public philosophy is novel and unconventional – essentially providing new underpinnings (ontology) to foreign policy analysis and creating a language or analytical vocabulary to Â�describe this ontology. This is a considerable task in itself as currently, there simply is no such vocabulary, except a few conceptual bits and pieces which include Atlanticism, Europeanism, Anti-Â�Americanism, isolationism, a legal international order, responsibility, hegemony, multipolarity, going-Â�it-alone, Alleingang, etc. It helps a little that research on both tradition and public philosophy contributes conceptualisations that have their counterparts in International Relations theory. This is one of the rare examples of the discourse of theory and the Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 119 discourse of political practice actually interfacing. In this context, discourse analysis becomes highly relevant suggesting that we should seriously explore the potential of this analytical perspective. Fifth, we have seen above that Holbraad (2003) has analysed foreign policy positions along ideological lines, essentially combining the three traditional European political ideologies – liberalism, conservatism and socialism – and the distinction between nationalism and internationalism, producing for instance liberal, conservative and socialist internationalism. Hence, attempts to identify European foreign policy traditions have been made. However, this literature has not explored the role of public philosophy or related insights in research on European foreign policy. In order to do so, it would probably be necessary to engage in an exercise of analytical macro triangulation, drawing on Comparative Politics, International Political Theory and International Relations. Finally, it is a complicating factor that part of the European enterprise is based on the assumption that contemporary European foreign policy is, or should be based on a distinct and fundamental rupture with the past, a profound discontinuity. In political reasoning it is often emphasised that Europe’s ‘other’ does not have a geopolitical nature but is simply Europe’s not so glorious past. In other words, Europe’s contemporary international identity and self-Â�image should represent a break with the past. Paradoxically, Europe’s debates on foreign relations seem more dynamic than American debates; compare Mead’s strong emphasis on a continuous debate stretching back to the founding fathers, and Nau’s deploring of ‘the limits of the traditional foreign policy debate among nationalists, realists, and internationalists’ (Nau 2002: 59). It remains an open question as to whether the rupture in Europe is a political preference or an undisputed reality. Conclusion and perspectives We have seen that studies of European foreign policy have focused strictly on the vertical relationship between EU member states and EU institutions. While acknowledging that this preoccupation has involved a multitude of theoretical perspectives – intergovernmentalism, neofunctionalism, rational choice, principal– agent theory and Europeanisation (in both uploading and downloading versions) – this chapter turns the perspective 90 degrees and focuses instead on foreign policy traditions over time and across member states. Moreover, the study of European foreign policy has traditionally been fairly policy oriented and descriptive, lacking an overarching analytical framework. This lack of a theoretical foundation implies that, although individual studies generate strong insights, they do not cumulate to create a coherent picture of, or promote focused debates about the dynamics of European foreign policy. The proposed change does enable an interface between, on the one hand, public philosophies being cultivated within traditions and, on the other, theories of international relations, not least their fundamental assumptions about international life. Finally, whereas Eurobarometer surveys focus on questions concerning the preferences among 120â•‡â•‡ K.E. Jørgensen European citizens concerning levels of decision making, and research on European foreign policy tends to dwell on legal-Â�institution issues, the essay invites studies of the politics of foreign policy, specifically contending foreign policy traditions and specialised debates on the objectives and means of foreign policy. Instead of paying exclusive attention to policy, the chapter focuses on the politics of foreign policy and on the public philosophies that inform and shape policy-Â�making. Instead of engaging in studies of single policy, single case or a limited selection of, say, three larger or four smaller EU member states, the subject here includes the politics of foreign policy in all EU member states. Different analytical trajectories have triggered the idea that European foreign policy traditions are emerging, yet remain largely undiscovered by the scientific community. Hence, the prime purpose has been to discover and to some degree examine these traditions, thereby opening a new research agenda for the study of European foreign policy and enriching the ontology of contemporary foreign policy analysis, specifically the politics of foreign policy. This chapter casts the politics of European foreign policy in a new light; creates a novel conceptual foundation for studying the politics of foreign policy and international behaviour more generally, and introduces some ideas about analytically premising avenues of inquiry. In addition, it might as a bonus have relevance for the making and planning of foreign policy. Notes 1 In a different kind of politics, political issues are allowed to masquerade as legal issues. Within such a politics, strategies ‘expire’, European diplomats only engage in issues when they have legal competence to do so, and international law is the key factor that enables or constrains political action. Morgenthau (2012 [1933]) was an early critic of this kind of politics. 2 Christopher Hill’s, The Changing Politics of Foreign Policy (2003) addresses some of the issues but is more general in its approach and coverage. 3 Whereas the United States has a long tradition in research on foreign policy attitudes among both elites and the general public, such a tradition hardly exists in Europe. To the degree survey data do exist they are almost entirely constituted by national boundaries, the Eurobarometer being among exceptions. References Aggestam, Lisbeth (2004). A European foreign policy? Role conceptions and the politics of identity in Britain, France and Germany. PhD thesis, Department of Political Science, Stokholm University. Beer, Samuel H. (1978). In search of a new public philosophy. In Anthony King (ed.), The new American political system (pp.Â€5–44). Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute. Biscop, Sven (2005). The European security strategy: A global agenda for positive power. Aldershot: Ashgate. Carlsnaes, Walter (1986). Ideology and foreign policy: Problems of comparative conceptualization. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Does Europe have foreign policy traditions?â•‡â•‡ 121 Carlsnaes, Walter (2002). Foreign policy. In W. Carlsnaes, T. Risse and B. Simmons (eds), Handbook of International Relations. London: Sage. Carlsnaes, Walter (2007). European foreign policy. In K.E. Jørgensen, M. Pollack and B. Rosamond (eds), Handbook of European Union politics. London: Sage. Hadfield, A., Manners, I. and Whitman, R. (2012). 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Manchester: Manchester University Press. Weir, Margaret (1992). Ideas and the politics of bounded innovation. In Sven Steinmo, Kathleen Thelen and Frank Longstreth (eds), Structuring politics: Historical institutionalism in comparative perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wheeler, Nicholas (2000). Saving strangers: Humanitarian intervention in international society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 10 A foreign policy without a state? Accounting for the CFSP Helene Sjursen Traditionally, there has been considerable scepticism to the value of conducting research on the European Union’s (EU) foreign and security policy. Many felt there was no such thing as a European foreign policy, and even more so, no European security or defence policy. Only states were seen as able to conduct foreign policy, and there were only national, foreign and security policies. To study European Political Cooperation (EPC), as it was once called, and even as some did, to write thick books about it (Ifestos 1987), was considered a bit odd. Nevertheless, it has become increasingly difficult to neglect the EU’s international role. It is the world’s largest trading power as well as a major donor of humanitarian assistance and development aid. Further, its gradual building of capabilities in security and defence makes it an important actor in areas of tension, as we can observe for example with regard to the Middle East. In spite of the scepticism, the European Union has forced itself upon the international agenda. And in fact, rather than a research topic that is only for those with very particular, not to say morbid, interests the EU’s foreign and security policy, the efforts to build a common European foreign and security policy (CFSP), is both a fascinating and important object of study. It is an experimentarium, not only in practical, political, but also in conceptual terms, forcing us to rethink deep seated understandings of what foreign and security policy actually is and of what a polity is that can conduct such policies. Walter Carlsnaes’ work very much reminds us of this (2006). Further, it leads us to think more carefully about the concepts we use to analyse foreign and security policy, and the way we describe and talk about it. In the following I would like to make some suggestions as to the direction in which this research could go. What kind of questions may we ask and what needs to be changed in the way we study foreign and security policy in order to pursue them? I will discuss this based on a critique of the existing literature on the EU’s so-Â�called ‘normative’ power, and on a reconstruction of some of its gaps and missing links. In so doing, I draw on a discourse theoretical perspective. 124â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen The ambivalence of ‘doing good’: scholars or naïve moralists? Seeking to capture the ‘uniqueness’ of the EU, a number of scholars have described it as a normative, civilising or ethical power within the international system (Whitman 1998; Smith 2000; Stavridis 2001; Manners 2002; Aggestam 2004; Lightfoot and Burchell 2005). There are considerable challenges involved in such conceptualisations. They easily conjure up images of European imperialists or missionaries, who set out to shape the world in their image, convinced that their values and way of life was superior. Alternatively, it could be the stuff of hypocrisy, a simple cover for the promotion of particular interests. Not only do scholars refering to such concepts risk appearing as naïve moralists, as realists will argue with Morgenthau or Kissinger that the purpose of a foreign policy is to pursue state interests and keep well away from morality. They also become vulnerable to the charge that they are unable to distinguish between their own sympathy for the European project and their academic role as critical analysts. The problems with taking such conceptions as the starting point for research become even more evident against the backdrop of recent developments in European security and defence. How is the availability of military resources reconcilable with a conception of ‘normative’ or ‘ethical’ Europe? In spite of the difficulties with conceptualising the EU as a ‘normative/civilising/ ethical’ power, a number of empirical observations related for example to the EU’s policy of democracy promotion, its introduction of human rights clauses in trade agreements, the emphasis on encouraging regional cooperation or the focus on building international institutions suggest that there may actually be something distinctive about the EU’s foreign and security policy that requires attention, at least in comparison with what we tend to think of as the typical foreign policy of great powers (Risse and Börzel 2007). Hence the need to pursue this further. What kind of ‘normative’ power? The need for a critical standard Rather than questioning the ‘reality’ of the EU as a foreign policy actor, the ‘normative power’ literature takes its existence for granted and seeks to define and conceptualise it. In this sense the fundamental question is that which is asked in much of the literature on the EU – i.e. ‘what kind of polity is it?’ However here it is asked with a specific focus on its external dimension. The EU’s status is unclear and ambiguous. There are different interpretations of what constitutes its core characteristics, as well as the future direction of integration. It is less than a state, but certainly more than a classic international organisation. What then, is it, and how should it be conceptualised? And what kind of foreign policy may such an undefined entity be able to produce? In order to assess the putative particularity of the EU’s foreign policy, we need to know not only whether or not the EU ‘is’ a normative power, but what A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 125 kind of normative power it is. Norms are a variety of different things and, after all, most actors pursue norms; most preferences also reflect a normative position and many foreign policy actors have some kind of normative influence or agenda. In fact, the United States or the former Soviet Union have both in different respects been ‘normative’ powers. Still, ‘normative power’ Europe is clearly identified as different from these. As the ‘normative power’ literature does not discriminate between different types of norm, it does not have a sufficiently nuanced conceptual apparatus to investigate what kind of normative power the EU may be and to substantiate this claim of a particularity to the EU’s foreign and security policy when compared to that of other powers. A second and crucial problem that follows from this indiscriminate view of norms is the often implicit link between the pursuit of norms and the idea that the EU is ‘doing good’ in the international system, or between the idea that the EU is a ‘civilian power’ and that such a power is necessarily positive. The challenge here is not only that norms are a variety of different things, but that all of them do not necessarily lead to good things. In order to resolve this we need to find a way to assess if the pursuit of norms is legitimate. It could very well be that the EU’s pursuit of norms or efforts to define what is considered ‘normal’ (Manners 2002) for example is an expression of Eurocentric cultural imperialism, even though the literature claims that this is not the case. If we fail to distinguish between different types of norm and their validity and legitimacy basis, we cannot really tell – we are required to trust the analyst’s personal assessment of what is ‘good’, without being provided with clear reasons and critical standards. Hence the concern that the ‘normative power’ literature is simply apologetic and uncritical. It is only if we are clear regarding the basis on which such claims are made, that they may be critically assessed and vindicated – or rejected.1 In other words, there is a need to establish what kind of standard for ‘goodness’ is being used and to clarify its legitimacy basis. Surprisingly, this is rarely done in the existing literature.2 A cosmopolitan perspective I suggest that a criterion, a critical standard, for a ‘normative’ – or what will hereafter be referred to as a ‘humanitarian’ – power may be derived from a cosmopolitan perspective. This perspective presupposes the possibility of a community based on certain universal principles, and depicts an international order constrained by a higher ranking law, and not by a balance of power.3 An emphasis on law is important as a foreign policy that claims to be ‘doing good’ – to act in the name of ‘humanity’ – must be held accountable. Unchecked power, exercised in the name of ‘humanity’ as such, in the name of human rights alone, may easily lead to totalitarianism (Eriksen 2006). Further, the law would alleviate suspicions of hypocrisy and ensure consistency in the application and pursuit of norms. There is always a risk that actors will follow their own interests even if they know that this may harm others, or suspect that others do so, even if they say the opposite. In order to avoid such risks, common rules are necessary. The 126â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen law functions as a system of action that makes it possible to implement moral duties as common commitments.4 A distinction is made, then, between traditional international law and multilateralism on the one hand and a cosmopolitan law of the people on the other hand. While the rights of states to external sovereignty is a core principle in international law and multilateralism, cosmopolitanism refers to the rights of individuals and prioritises this above the rights of states.5 Such a critical standard would be consistent with the idea of a foreign policy actor that breaks with what we understand by the ‘traditional’ foreign policy practice of great powers. The core feature of a humanitarian power would be that it acts externally in order to transform the parameters of power politics through a focus on the international legal system, rather than to write itself into the existing international system through an emphasis on multilateralism or with the aim of establishing a (new) balance of power. It would be one that seeks to overcome power politics through a strengthening of cosmopolitan law, emphasising the rights of individuals and not only the rights of states to sovereign equality, the purpose being to establish a global law of citizens. Further, a humanitarian power would be a power that is willing to bind itself, and not only others, to such common rules. Nevertheless, what is suggested here is a thin version of cosmopolitanism, where few functions are considered ‘up loadable’ to the global level. It is based on a narrow conception of justice, where the cosmopolitan level would focus on human rights and security. As the international system is still one in which legal procedures for protecting human rights are weak, a question for empirical research could be to what extent the EU’s arguments for human rights were presented only with regard to particular actors or cases or whether they were also part of a broader effort to transform their legal status in international law. An example of such efforts would be to support the establishment of the International Criminal Court (ICC). Furthermore, one might expect that a humanitarian power would develop standards, mechanisms and policy instruments that would ensure that its own policies are consistent with such principles. The confirmation of the Charter of Rights as legally binding for the EU and its member states would be one such indicator, as it would ensure greater consistency between internal and externally projected standards. What kind of norms? As noted, a cosmopolitan perspective presupposes the possibility of agreement on certain universal principles. Hence it rests on the analytical distinction between moral and ethical norms. Moral norms refer to questions that may be settled with reference to justice and concern deontological principles such as human rights, democracy and rule of law. Ethical norms, or values, refer to questions of what is conceived of as the common good and thus revolve on what can be justified in a context-Â�bound ethical-Â�political discourse. While ethical norms and the concept of values are connected to the characteristics of a specific A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 127 Â� community and to the identity of the members of that community, understood as collective representations of the good that vary according to cultural and social context; moral norms or rights – referring to justice – are universal in the sense that they pertain to humanity as such, independently of particular identities and belongings.6 The distinction becomes central for example if what we have in mind is a conception of the EU as an actor that promotes norms, but does so without following the path of European imperialism. Whereas it would not be reasonable to expect transcultural agreement about values, the same is not necessarily the case with regard to higher order norms such as ‘equality, freedom, solidarity, self-Â� realisation and human dignity’ (Eriksen and Weigård 2003: 138). Values or conceptions of what is good may vary according to cultural or social contexts. They are particular for example to a specific community or a specific collective identity. If the EU defines itself, and thinks of itself, as a ‘force for the good’, then, as already noted, this could be a subjective definition linked to a particular European understanding and defined in a particular European cultural context. It may not match what is defined as good or valuable in other parts of the world, conditioned by other cultural or social norms. So ‘normative power’ Europe could be true to its own norms, yet be perceived as acting in the same way as ‘historical empires’. This basic analytical distinction is important but lacking in the literature on the EU as a ‘humanitarian power’. The suggestion here is that a critical standard for a humanitarian power be linked to an emphasis on moral norms, seeking to establish what is right, fair or just, and which can be kept separate from ethical norms. Utopian normativity? Many will however consider that even when such precautions are taken, multilateralism is as good as it can get and that the idea of a cosmopolitan perspective resting on shared universalistic norms must be set aside. Some would argue that this is due to cultural differences that make it impossible to come to a rational agreement on universally acceptable norms (Brown 1999). Others would rather emphasise the inherent characteristics of the international system leading to insurmountable practical difficulties in establishing cosmopolitan law, which would ensure the rights not only of states but also the fundamental rights of citizens. The former seems to be the position of Diez (2005), who suggests that the ‘normative’ power argument should be understood as a practice of constructing a European identity. From an identity perspective, actor rationality is linked to a particular context, and the potential for a rational agreement beyond different cultural contexts or identities is limited. Consequently, from this standpoint, claims to universality can only be viewed as expressions of a particular conception of what is ‘good’, at worst they represent a form of hypocrisy aiming for the domination of others. This is what Diez appears to imply when he argues, with reference to the EU’s international role, that: ‘The standards of the self are not simply seen as superior but of universal validity, with the consequence that the 128â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen other should be convinced or otherwise brought to accept the principles of the selfâ†œ’ (2005: 10). However, if this is so, the conclusion regarding ‘normative’ power EU is given in advance. Then, ‘normative’ power cannot be anything else than a form of cultural imperialism, unless it abandons the ambition to ‘shape conceptions of what is normal’ (Manners 2002: 239). Quite clearly this puts the scholarly claim that ‘normative’ power or ‘civilian’ power is a good thing in a dubious light. Not all agree. Axel Honneth writes that although a critique of the universalism of human rights finds advocates in growing numbers, it ‘belongs to the antiquated heritage of the counter-Â�Enlightenment’ (1997: 167). He further rejects the claim that ‘the moral obligations of universalism are too great a burden both for individual subjects and for nations’ (ibid.). He argues that the character of the moral relationship between nations and civil actors has changed and that due to the spread of democracy, civil society plays an increasingly independent role also in international affairs. Increased transparency and access to information pressure governments to provide reasons for their policies. A number of organisations and movements promote the realisation of human rights across state borders. Consequently, the transformation of power politics is already under way, according to Honneth. Regardless of where one’s sympathies would lie in the above debate, the main point here has been to highlight that if we are to pursue research on the notion of the EU as a ‘normative’ or as it has been labelled here, humanitarian, power, there is a need for an explicit critical standard, as well as a clarification of the validity and legitimacy basis of the norms that are referred to. Further, if empirical research is to be pursued, indicators that are consistent with this standard must be established. This is lacking in the existing literature. It may well be that, in empirical terms, the critical standard suggested here will not ‘fit’. It may also be that there are other critical standards ‘out there’ that analysts find more acceptable. What has been presented here is simply one suggestion as to where we may look for a such a standard, as well as to what may be its sources of legitimacy. Rethinking core categories What are the implications of this perspective – of the theoretical presuppositions of the cosmopolitan view – for the study of the EU’s external policy? If we are to examine its relevance we need to rethink some of the basic categories, or analytical tools traditionally used in the study of foreign policy and international relations. I will highlight three such here and make some preliminary suggestions with regard to the direction of a possible rethinking. First, the conception of actors’ rationality. In international relations it is conventionally linked to instrumentality – actors are seen as rational in the sense that they seek to maximise their own interests (Krasner 1999). International politics is considered to be the outcome of adverse self-Â�interested behaviour under conditions of anarchy. As I have already hinted, an alternative A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 129 conception would suggest that actors may also act on the basis of normative expectations or assessments. Justice and fairness, and not only self-Â�interest, would be within the realm of rationality. This is linked to a communicative conception of rationality where actors are considered rational when they are able to justify and explain their actions in relation to intersubjectively valid norms, i.e. norms that cannot be reasonably rejected in a rational debate, and not only when they seek to maximise their own interests (Eriksen and Weigård 2003). A rational actor could explain actions with reference to principles that, all things considered, can be recognised as ‘just’ by all parties, irrespective of their particular interests, perceptions of the ‘good life’ or cultural identity. This conception provides an additional basis to that developed through a rational choice perspective from which we may understand the policy-Â�choices that actors make. It provides the necessary micro foundations for the cosmopolitan perspective, because it allows us to account for ideal motives as a basis for rational action. It allows us to conceive of actors that may act in accordance with normative conviction and not only with reference to particular interests. Further, the idea of the legitimacy of cosmopolitan law rests on the assumption that it is possible to come to a rational agreement on universally acceptable norms. It is the process of deliberation, of giving and taking reasons, leading to such a rational agreement that would provide the test for the legitimacy – or lack of such – of the pursuit of norms. Second, the conception of power. Traditionally (in international relations) it is understood in materialist terms. Power is seen as linked to physical resources, be they economic or military. These resources are considered to be what is necessary in order to allow actors to enforce their own will/to impose it on others. An alternative conception would suggest that you also need legitimacy in order to have power. In fact, it would suggest that if an actor does not have legitimacy, i.e. support for what it does, it does not, in the long run, have power either. Such a reconceptualisation would highlight that the concept of power is not absent from a cosmopolitan perspective (in spite of what is often argued in international relations), as the threat of sanctions may be necessary to in order to ensure that the law is upheld. However, a cosmopolitan perspective relies on the assumption that it is possible to find a basis for legitimate power.7 This would arise in the communication between citizens: ‘Power is collective and intersubjective by nature; it is created in the interaction between agents, and it is only in operation and is only strong as long as the people are assembled and agree’ (Eriksen and Weigård 2003: 173). Incidentally, such a conception of power is not a far fetched utopia. In fact, several empirical examples suggest that there is already a conception of ‘legitimate power’ at work in the international system and further that there are already informal sanctions of some kind in world politics connected to the breach of accepted norms regarding the exercise of power. This may explain why even the United States (US), in spite of its overwhelming military might, keeps returning to the United Nations (UN) to gain support for its policies. Even the world’s largest, perhaps only, superpower appears ultimately to be dependent on 130â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen Â� legitimacy in order to achieve its foreign policy objectives. It may also help us understand why the US was so concerned with highlighting that there was a large number of participants in the so-Â�called ‘coalition of the willing’ in Iraq, even though, in terms of resources, they did not all make a substantive contribution. The ‘symbolic’ support that such a coalition provides gives legitimacy to the action itself. Likewise, through such a reconceptualisation it may seem less paradoxical that the European Parliament (EP), which has no traditional power tools to wield in foreign policy, is nevertheless listened to and taken seriously when it raises its voice on international issues. As described by MEP Elmar Brook: when the EP criticises a state for example for violations of human rights, the representatives of the state in question usually show up in his office the next day to defend or justify their policies. Why, one might wonder, when the EP has no resources whatsoever available to influence the flow of world affairs – it does not even have much of a say on the development of the EU’s own foreign and security policy – would they bother to take it seriously? In order to understand the power of the EP in such situations, an alternative to the materialist conception is required. – And in turn, this suggests that some elements of the prerequisites for a cosmopolitan world order may actually be in place. A third concept that may require rethinking in light of a cosmopolitan perspective is that of sovereignty. It is defined formally with reference to international law. In order to be sovereign states, as legal entities, have traditionally been seen to need two things: first, control over a territory – they need to have constitutional independence; and, second, recognition from other sovereign states. There has been no formal link between the perceived legitimacy of a particular government and the status of (external) sovereignty. However, due to two parallel developments at the domestic and international level, that is the increase in the number of states that have formally committed themselves to democratic rule (1); and the strengthening of the legal protection of human rights internationally (2), a state that does not respect the sovereignty of its people faces increasing difficulties in achieving international recognition. The establishment of the International Criminal Court, for example, exemplifies the tendency towards an ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›increasing conditionality of sovereignty’ (Dryzek 2006: 61). Consequently, an attempt at redefining the concept of sovereignty could take the question of human rights into account, and move in the direction of a link between the question of a state’s respect, or lack of such, for the fundamental rights of the individual and its status as sovereign. Such a move would be in line with a cosmopolitan perspective in the sense that it considers the individual as the core legal subject. In the words of David Held: ‘The ultimate units of moral concern are individual people, not states or other particular forms of human association’ (Held 2003: 470). From a cosmopolitan perspective the individual human being is seen as the holder of rights within a legal framework. Only individuals can claim moral respect. Borders of states or collectives do not make the same strong claim (Eriksen 2003: 54) Such reconceptualisations as the ones suggested above, and in particular the introduction of the concept of communicative rationality, may also help us tackle A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 131 a second question arising through the literature on the EU as a ‘normative/ethical power’: how can it be that a polity such as the EU – which, as noted, is neither a state nor an international organisation – can conduct foreign and security policy at all? The CFSP and its Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) are voluntary arrangements, held together by a set of common norms and rules; however, the possibility of formally sanctioning a norm breaker, an actor that does not comply with a common standpoint, is limited. How come that this policy ‘hangs together’, then, in particular in situations where there is no obvious and easily calculable gain for the participants? And, what is the normative basis for this foreign policy? How is collective action possible? A focus on institutions and procedures A number of empirical observations regarding the operations of the CFSP/ESDP suggest that cohesion within this policy field is linked to a departure from a simple intergovernmental organising model (Sjursen 2011). Several authors refer to a process of ‘Brusselsisation’ of European foreign and security policy (Allen 1998; Howorth 2003), which is defined as a shift in the locus of national decision making to Brussels-Â�based institutional structures. As a consequence it becomes increasingly difficult for national foreign ministries to control all aspects of national foreign policy-Â�making. The Brussels-Â�based institutions are considered to ‘gain the advantage’ partly due to easy and daily access to information and dialogue with partner states. Further, and in line with the notion of ‘Brusselsisation’, a number of authors point to a certain transformatory capacity of the EU’s foreign and security policy vis à vis national foreign policies (Aggestam 2004; Tonra 2001; Torreblanca 2001; Pijpers 1996). Despite the well-Â�known solo initiatives of some of the EU’s member states in situations of crisis, it is argued that it is increasingly difficult for member states to escape expectations of consistency between national foreign policy and the foreign policy positions of the EU. The existence of clearly distinguishable national preferences within European foreign policy has become less obvious. The overall impression that emerges through observations such as these is that although the CFSP remains formally intergovernmental and hence in principle is simply an instrument in the hands of the member states; the Brussels-Â� based institutions have gained considerable autonomy (Tonra 2000; Duke and Vanhoonacker 2006; Curtin 2007). They contribute to shape the EU’s foreign and security policy and also to re-Â�shape national perspectives and preferences in the field. However, a number of questions remain unanswered. Much further research is required in order to confirm the significance and validity of the above observations. The phenomenon of ‘Brusselsisation’ must be further specified in order for us to assess its significance and implications for our understanding of European foreign and security policy. Most importantly, however, how may these developments be accounted for in theoretical terms? After all, they challenge deep seated ideas and conceptions of this policy-Â�field as the exclusive 132â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen domain of the nation state. How do member states manage to come to agreement on a common foreign and security policy and how can we account for a voluntary relinquishing of sovereignty to common institutions? Departing from the concept of communicative rationality, we may conceive of dialogical actors ‘.â•›.â•›.â•›who co-Â�ordinate their plans through argumentation, aimed at reaching mutual agreement’ (Eriksen and Weigård 1997: 221). Actors would be conceived of as able to change viewpoints as a result of a better argument. On this basis it is possible to conceive of a process of deliberation – of arguing and counter arguing – as a mechanism that might contribute to account for developments beyond intergovernmentalism (Eriksen and Weigård 1997; Sjursen 2004). Deliberation stands in contrast to threat-Â�based bargaining and voting as procedures for coordination. Bargaining, which is considered to be the dominant mode within international affairs, presupposes the availability of carrots and sticks and leads to a compromise. However within the framework of the CFSP/ESDP bargaining resources are rather slim – there are few opportunities to threaten. Hence, at first sight this does not appear to be sufficient reason to account for a putative move beyond intergovernmentalism. As for voting, which is mostly linked to Â�domestic politics although also practised in some international settings, it is less relevant with regard to the CFSP/ESDP as decisions in this field require unanimity. Deliberation may be particularly relevant because it is a mechanism that highlights the voluntary aspect of a process that leads to an agreement. In a context where compliance-Â�ensuring mechanisms are missing, deliberation, or a process of giving and taking reason, may be seen to compensate for this. Parties coordinate actions through giving and taking arguments, rather than through power, threats and/or warnings. Deliberation is expected to lead to a common understanding, rather than a mere compromise reflecting the relative power balance between the parties involved. Hence it may also contribute to explaining stability over time of a given entity. The risk of defection that follows from a process of bargaining is less pronounced, as actors agree on a joint set of reasons for common policies.8 However, such argumentative processes are fragile. Actors must be in a setting where they are able to trust that the other parties are also playing by the rules, i.e. are willing to abide by the better argument. Consequently, this perspective would point us in the direction of the institutions and procedures that are in place and the extent to which they allow for argumentative processes to be realised. What kind of values and norms are enshrined in the institutions of European foreign and security policy, and what kind of sovereignty, power and rationality do they presuppose or embody? To what extent are the institutions only aggregative, as one would expect if interaction primarily takes the form of bargaining or voting? Do they only register preferences or do they function in a way that allows for an integration of preferences and thereby contribute to establish or provide a basis for collective action? Does a sense of trust, we-Â�feeling and collegiality, an institutional identity, allowing for a common agreement on policies appear to have developed amongst the participants? To take but some examples, mechanisms such as the requirement for consultation between member states, which entails (in principle) that member states A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 133 take no final position on foreign policy matters before consulting with the other member states may be important in this respect. This requirement has (according to observers such as Nuttall 2000) become the standard in the CFSP – that is, there is what is often called a ‘coordination reflex’ at work in European foreign and security policy. The frequency of meetings amongst national representatives in the various institutional settings organised under the Council and located in Brussels, the time spent on the preparation of these meetings as well as their duration, may also be important factors. Research may investigate if they contribute to establish trust as well as a sense of commonality amongst the actors involved? Committee studies of other EU areas, as well as IR studies, have documented changes in role-Â�perception, learning and alteration of preferences in such sites.9 Concluding remarks In this chapter I have presented a three-Â�step argument based on a particular strand of literature on European foreign and security policy. First, I have suggested that we need to develop a critical standard for assessing the putative normative basis of an EU foreign policy; Second, I have argued that developing this critical standard entails a need for rethinking some core analytical categories in the study of international relations and foreign policy. Third, this reconceptualisation opens for a distinct empirical research agenda on European foreign and security policy, allowing us to move forward in terms of accounting for the emergence of a foreign policy actor such as the EU. My intention has neither been to ‘prejudge’ the outcome of any empirical research that might be developed on the basis of concepts such as those discussed here, nor to make substantive empirical claims about the EU’s external policies. Although, as noted, it seems to me that there are some empirical observations ‘out there’ that justify the development of such an analytical scheme, much more systematic empirical research is required. My point has been, in the spirit of Walter Carlsnaes’ work, that we need to reconsider, clarify and specify the analytical tools we use in order to conduct such research (Carlsnaes 1992). Finally, the conceptual scheme discussed here should not be seen as a call for a ‘normative’ theory of the kind that suggests what ‘ought to be done’ in European foreign and security policy. Rather, and perhaps most importantly on this occasion, the aim has been to point towards a conceptual apparatus that would make it possible to understand or conceive of ideal motives as a basis for action – to suggest that there is rationality also to such a form of action. Ideal motives are not a ‘naïve’ desire to do good. They are linked to the aim of upholding the legitimacy and stability of a political order. Thereby, such concepts may help us understand the puzzle of how the emergence of the CFSP/ESDP has been possible even though our traditional conceptual toolbox in foreign and security policy tells us that it is a virtual impossibility. 134â•‡â•‡ H. Sjursen Notes 1 For a more detailed analysis of the ‘normative’ power literature see Sjursen (2006a, 2006b). 2 It follows that attempts at assessing the empirical fit of the ‘normative’ power argument are not necessarily helpful unless a critical standard is established. 3 There are a number of different ‘cosmopolitanisms’ Brown (1992). What is presented here can only be a sketchy outline, pointing to some core components. It draws in particular on the chapters contained in Bohman and Lutz-Â�Bachman (1997), Habermas (2001) and Eriksen and Weigård (2003). 4 The argument is based on the assumption that modern law is premised on human rights. For further discussions of the relationship between law and morality see Apel (1997) and Habermas (1997). 5 For analyses of the legitimacy of cosmopolitan law, see Habermas (1996), Rawls (1999), Beitz (1979) and Forst (2001). 6 The distinction is connected to that often drawn in debates on international relations theory between cosmopolitan and communitarian perspectives (Brown 1992). 7 This conception of power may be traced back to Hanna Arendt’s consensual view of power, and her distinction between power and coercion. She writes that: ‘Power springs up whenever people get together and act in concert, but it derives its legitimacy from the initial getting together rather than from any action that then may follow’ (2002: 141). 8 The distinction between deliberation as a decision-Â�making procedure and deliberative democracy is important here, as the hypothesis outlined above does not imply that the establishment of a common European foreign policy entails a democratisation of this policy-Â�field. The opposite is more likely to be the case. 9 See Joerges and Vos (1999) and Risse (2000). References Aggestam, Lisbeth (2004). A European foreign policy? Role conceptions and the politics of identity in Britain, France and Germany. Doctoral dissertation, Department of Political Science, Stockholm University. Allen, David (1998). Who speaks for Europe? The search for an effective and coherent external policy. In John Peterson and Helene Sjursen (eds), A common foreign policy for Europe? Competing visions of the CFSP (pp.Â€41–48). London: Routledge. Apel, Karl-Â�Otto (1997). Kant’s ‘Towards Perpetual Peace’ as historical prognosis from the point of view of moral duty. In James Bohman and Matthias Lutz-Â�Bachmann (eds), Perpetual peace: Essays on Kant’s cosmopolitan ideal (pp.Â€79–110). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Beitz, Charles (1979). Political theory and international relations. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bohman, James and Lutz-Â�Bachmann, Matthias (eds) (1997). Perpetual peace: Essays on Kant’s cosmopolitan ideal. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Brown, Chris (1992). International relations theory: New normative approaches. Exeter: Harvester Wheatsheaf. Brown, Chris (1999). Universal human rights: A critique. In Timothy Dunne and Nicholas J. Wheeler (eds), Human rights in global politics (pp.Â€103–127). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carlsnaes, Walter (1992). The agency–structure problem in foreign policy analysis. International Studies Quarterly, 26(3), 245–270. A foreign policy without a state?â•‡â•‡ 135 Carlsnaes, Walter (2006). European foreign policy. In Knud Erik Jørgensen, Mark A. Pollock and Ben Rosamund (Eds), Handbook of European Union politics. London: Sage. Curtin, Deirdre (2007). Transparency, audiences and the evolving role of the EU Council of Ministers. In John Erik Fossum and Philip Schlesinger (eds), The European Union and the public sphere: A communicative space in the making? (pp.Â€ 246–258). New York: Routledge. Diez, Thomas (2005). Constructing the self and changing others: Reconsidering ‘Normative Power Europe’. Millennium, 33(3), 613–636. Dryzek, John (2006). Deliberative global politics. Cambridge: Polity Press. Duchêne, François (1972). Europe’s role in world peace. In Richars Mayne (ed.), Europe tomorrow: Sixteen Europeans look ahead (pp.Â€32–47). London: Fontana. Duke, Simon and Vanhoonacker, Sophie (2006). Administrative governance in the CFSP: Development and practice. European Foreign Affairs Review, 11(2), 163–182. Eriksen, Erik Oddvar (2003). Why a constitutionalised Bill of Rights? In Erik Oddvar Eriksen, John Erik Fossum and Agustín José Ménendez (eds), The chartering of Europe: The European Charter of Fundamental Rights and its constitutional implications (pp. 48–70). Baden-Â�Baden: Nomos. Eriksen, Erik Oddvar and Weigård, Jarle (2003). Understanding Habermas: Communicative action and deliberative democracy. London: Continuum. Eriksen, Erik Oddvar (2006). The EU – a cosmopolitan polity? Journal of European Public Policy, 13(2), 252–269. Eriksen, Erik Oddvar and Weigård, Jarle (1997). Conceptualizing politics: Strategic or communicative action? Scandinavian Political Studies, 20(3), 219–241. Forst, Rainer (2001). The rule of reasons: Three models of deliberative democracy. Ratio Juris, 14(4), 345–378. Habermas, Jürgen (1990). Moral consciousness and communicative action. 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Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pijpers, Alfred (1996). The Netherlands: The weakening pull of Atlanticism. In Christopher Hill (ed.), The actors in Europe’s foreign policy (pp.Â€ 247–267). London: Routledge. Rawls, John (1999). The law of peoples. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Risse, Thomas (2000). ‘Let’s argue!’ Communicative action in world politics. International Organization, 54(1), 1–39. Risse, Thomas and Börzel, Tanja A. (2007). Venus approaching Mars? The EU as an emerging civilian world power. Paper prepared for the bi-Â�annual conference of the European Union Studies Association (EUSA), Montreal, Canada, 17–19 May. Sjursen, Helene (2004). Changes to European security in a communicative perspective. Cooperation and Conflict, 39(2), 107–128. Sjursen, Helene (2006a). What kind of power? Journal of European Public Policy,, 13(2), 169–181. Sjursen, Helene (2006b). The EU as a ‘normative’ power: how can this be? Journal of European Public Policy 13(2), 235–251. 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From civilian power to superpower? The international identity of the European Union. Basingstoke: Macmillan. 11 EU foreign policy ‘High politics’, low impact – and vice versa? Janne Haaland Matlary Walter Carlsnaes’ contribution to the study of foreign policy is formidable. He has written extensively in the most important journals in the field as well as edited the SAGE Library of International Relations (with Guzzini 2011, a five-Â� volume set) and contributed to Foreign Policy Analysis (Smith et al. 2012). While being famous for his scholarship on the structure-Â�agent problem, he has also worked extensively on EU foreign policy (Carlsnaes 1994, 2004), inter alia as editor of a book where both the undersigned and many other contributors to this Festschrift appeared (Carlsnaes et al. 2004). ‘Foreign policy is neither fish nor fowl in the study of politics, but an empirical subject matter straddling the boundary between the internal and the external spheres of a state’ (Carlsnaes 2012: 3). This simple starting point has informed my own work on foreign policy, in particular security and defence policy. Situated in the rationalist tradition, I have sought to find out what the dominant political dynamics in the European Union (EU) are (Matlary 2009). In my 1994 doctoral thesis where Carlsnaes served as first opponent at the defence, I tried to show – somewhat unsuccessfully, I must admit with hindsight – that the EC Commission has agenda-Â�setting power in the field of energy policy (Matlary 1997). The starting point and perhaps the conclusion about EU foreign and general policy is that it is both intergovernmental and supra-Â�national, depending on issue area and governments’ engagement – it is ‘neither fish nor fowl’. The EU is a laboratory for the testing of foreign policy theories, semi-Â�supranational as it is in trade policy while being intergovernmental in foreign and security policy. All variables vary when we try to characterise the EU: the scope of foreign policy – when including trade, economic policy and enlargement, the EU is a major actor on the world scene and has great powers over candidate countries (Smith 2011); when defining the scope as traditional diplomacy and security policy, however, the EU has little actor capacity and impact (Howorth 2011). When we look at foreign policy tools, the picture is also bewildering: the EU has no military capacity of its own and a small budget for traditional foreign policy. But it can impose economic sanctions and greatly influence the rules of international trade, as well as make rules for markets, labour, capital, and a host of other market-Â�related policy fields inside the EU itself, with great ramifications on the 138â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary outside (Wong 2011). The sheer size of the EU as an economic actor means that it has leverage – others must adapt to its rules (Smith and Steffenson 2011). Thus, if we look at traditonal tools of statecraft, the EU appears to be very weak. But if we look at economic and normative tools, the EU is very strong as an actor. Finally, the relationship between structure and agency is important: where the EU has structural powers, as in trade and economic matters, it also has agency, being vested with mixed sovereignty by and with member states. It acts as one actor in the World Trade Organisation (WTO), albeit with a mandate sanctioned by member states. But where the EU has no structural power, such as in traditional diplomacy, it is often very divided and unable to agree to be one actor (Hill and Smith 2011; Edwards 2011). Thus the EU poses many challenges to the student of foreign policy. In this chapter I will try to analyse the political dynamics of security policy in the EU, contrasting it with areas where the EU has structural power in order to show the variance in EU foreign policy and to discuss the impact that the EU has as a foreign policy actor. EU foreign policy today The EU is generally thought to punch below its weight in foreign policy today. Despite the new formal powers of the High Representative, Lady Ashton, the choice of a politician without experience in the field indicates that states are uninterested in a strong EU foreign policy. Her predecessor Javier Solana had much less power in formal terms but made the most of his role. Wherever the EU could be an actor, he inserted himself. Lady Ashton, however, is slow to react, travels much less and she has yet to make her mark. Despite some few rather surprising moves in traditional high politics, like the embargo on imports of Iranian oil in 2012, there has not been much common action from the EU over the last few years. Member states conduct their own foreign policy and do not seem to seek consultation with each other as they should according to EU rules. For instance, at the Munich security policy conference in February 2012, Guido Westerwelle, the German foreign minister, stated that the EU will not tolerate nuclear weapons in Iran, but that Germany rules out military action to stop this from occurring. Other EU states, like France and Britain, however, do not rule out military action, and those two states were the leading actors in the Libya operation in 2011 where Germany abstained in the UN Security Council. There is thus a glaring difference between the main actors of the EU with regard to traditional ‘high politics’. Does this mean that the EU is impotent in foreign policy? This chapter poses the question of EU impact in foreign policy. It will explore the perhaps counter-Â� intuitive idea that EU foreign policy is the more powerful the less it is in the headlines. Where the policy content is routine and does not provoke rivalry and controversy among member states, it is at its most powerful. So-Â�called ‘low EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 139 Â� politics’ areas is where the EU has a role in the world; one that is often unnoticed. However, when we move to the area of so-Â�called ‘high politics’, the EU seldom manages to speak with one voice and the national prerogative of member states is challenged. Typically, security and defence issues belong in this category. In ‘high’ politics, the EU has an arena function only; and actors use and choose arenas as they see fit. This initial distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ is neither novel nor original. The EU has great structural power because it is the largest trading bloc in the world and it also has legal competence in trade policy, thus acting with one voice. The fact that ‘mixite’1 applies also in this area, thus involving the member states at every turn of trade policy negotiations at the World Trade Organization (WTO) only seems to strengthen the EU as an actor in the world. When united as one with a power base that is large enough to be structural; the EU is on a par with the US. Also in other areas of foreign policy it is well-Â�known that the EU has major impact. Enlargement is the foremost. As long as a country is a candidate, the EU Commission wields very great powers over it, to the point of being able to interfere with almost any aspect of the internal political and legal set-Â�up of the state in question. The EU applies conditionality and it works. But when the state is a member, diplomatic etiquette rules among equals. Only in very rare cases does the EU openly criticise another member state, as for example in the case with Hungary in 2012 after it adopted a constitution that challenged the separation of powers. In March the same year Hungary had economic sanctions imposed on it because the budget deficit was too large. This was the first time the EU had imposed economic sanctions on a member state, but as the International Herald Tribune notes, hardly the last.2 Thus, the severity of the economic crisis in Europe seemingly made the EU bolder than before towards its members. The EU thus has powers to have major impact on the world and in the world, but these powers depend on issue, area and on which tools are the relevant ones. The lack of unitary action capacity is very much of a problem when there is a need for swift and unitary action and reaction, but the cumbersome negotiation procedure of the EU’s decision-Â�making system may be an asset insofar as its brings legitimacy to the decisions made. This slow grind of decision making ensures processes where everyone is included, and also routinises policy-Â�making. The outcomes of these processes are predictable and standardised and rarely make the headlines. But such outcomes may have great impact. In this chapter I wish to compare and contrast the dynamic of EU foreign policy-Â�making in high politics – choosing the hardest of hard cases, namely, security and defence involving military means – with the low politics that is typical of areas involving third country trade and political agreements, including aid.3 In the former area we will see that the EU has an arena function where states can move in and out, using the arena and moving away from it. In the period 1998 to about 2010, France and Britain used the EU arena in security politics, but now seem to have abandoned it for bilateral cooperation and coalitions of the willing, exemplified by the Libya operation. The EU capacities built up by 140â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary these two states, particularly the battle groups, are not used any more. Thus, the impact of the EU in high politics comes and goes. When states no longer chose the EU as their arena, there is no impact. But when we look at the EU’s role in trade, enlargement and third country agreements, we find a permanent set of agreements which cover the entire globe and where the EU, represented by the Commission, is the stronger party and can set the conditions. Political conditionality is a hallmark of all these agreements, and the impact of the EU is continuous (Carbone 2011). Which type of foreign policy is the more important? The policy resulting from an occasional arena function for the EU or the policy that is always there, as a structural feature? This question requires a discussion of power in terms of types of power, as well as power as agency and structure. Power, agency and structure The EU wields structural power as the world’s major trading bloc and as the pre-Â� eminent organisation in Europe itself. It is so important in economic terms that almost all states in the world have to take it into account. The same structural power pertains to the relationship between the EU Commission, the Court and the member states: the latter become heavily ‘Europeanised’ through a steady stream of directives from Brussels that are transposed into national law. The Norwegian EES-Â�agreement4 with the EU, which functions rather like a ‘passive membership’, has fundamentally transformed Norwegian domestic politics over the years. A recent in-Â�depth study of this concluded that two-Â�thirds of all Â�domestic policy in Norway stems from the EU (Europa-Â�Utredningen 2012). This illustrates the point that the impact of the EU is fundamental in areas where it is not visible in the headlines. If we accept that also economic policy is foreign policy, the EU is a giant as an actor, both towards its member states and towards the world. It possesses both structural power and united agency capacity. Further, this power is exercised in routinised ways and follows the treaty rules that member states have signed on to. The ‘day to day’ nature of such bureaucratic politics usually means that its impact goes unnoticed as it is incremental. In contrast, traditional foreign policy – high politics – concerns issues that are highly visible, highly politicised, and often the subject of disagreement among states. In the EU, foreign policy has a short history precisely because it is such a sensitive and contested area. The European Political Cooperation (EPC) was recognised as a cooperating mechanism among the foreign ministers in 1970, but was not included in the treaty until 1985, in the Single European Act. With an important addition of security policy in the Treaty on European Union in 1992, the EU has had a modest budget and apparatus for foreign policy since them, with incremental steps towards more unitary actor capacity with each treaty revision. However, the main decision-Â�making basis has remained intergovernmental. In the economic field, the EU has major structural power, and with this basis, also a major agency ability. The EU is a unitary actor in economic policy. Within EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 141 the EU in dealings with member states, DG Competition can launch morning raids against businesses in member states, take them and/or governments to court, impose fines, etc. Towards the international community the Trade Commissioner acts as a unitary actor in the WTO, seconded by governments and sharing sovereignty with them. In sum, it is clear that in the economic field the EU has unitary actor status as well as major structural power. Turning to foreign policy proper, the situation is entirely different. As we shall see below, there is little if any common EU actor capacity, and there is no structural power in the security field. Although the EU may be argued to represent European values and democracy, human rights, and rule of law as a bloc in the world, this structural power is activated only when there is unitary action. There is no structural power vested in the EU; the various tools of power ‘belong’ to member states, and are only activated when there is a decision among all to do so, i.e. to create unitary actor capacity. This rarely happens, although the EU manages to agree with speak with one voice at the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) each autumn delivering one intervention on behalf of all members and voting in the same ways on resolutions. The process towards agreeing on one stance is subject to least common denominator-Â�outcomes, as was the case when Sweden and other ‘progressives’ had to give in to Poland, Malta and other states that refused to promote abortion as a woman’s right at the UN during the spring of 2012, much to the regret of the Norwegians (FN-Â� sambandet 8 March 2012). Thus, unitary action comes at the price of watered-Â� down substance and the impact is accordingly limited. Thus, we see that the EU is powerful when acting as one, but this happens routinely only rarely, as in the case mentioned above. Usually there is no unitary EU action – at the UN Security Council, the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Council of Europe or at NATO – despite the fact that European states mostly agree on foreign policy. Thus, the lack of common action is the more remarkable. When it comes to using military force or to threaten such use in coercive diplomacy, the lack of unitary action is typical. Summing up, structural power has impact, even when there is no unitary actor capacity. States must adapt to the way a major actor acts – be it the US or the EU. But when there is unitary actor capacity coupled with structural power, the impact is even greater. The EU is an economic giant – despite the current financial crisis, and when it can act as one, as in trade agreements with third countries or at the WTO, it is one of the three most powerful actors in the world in terms of impact. The US, China, and the EU ‘rule’ the world economically. But without structural powers and unitary action capacity, the EU is reduced to a mere arena for intergovernmental action – one that can be abandoned at will by states. Case: EU security and defence policy Britain and France undertook to ‘boost’ EU security policy around 1997–1998. They also turned away from the EU some ten years later, simply by not using the 142â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary battle groups they had created. The question is why these two states chose to build up EU security policy in the first place, and then why they abandoned it for bilateral cooperation and NATO as their preferred arena. When France returned to NATO’s military structure in 2008, the French–British cooperation took place there or bilaterally, no longer in the EU. Understanding the political dynamics behind these developments allows us to infer whether there was an EU role in this at all, or whether the EU was simply an arena. France and Britain share a number of important security interests that explain why the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) got seriously under way after 1998. France and Britain ‘hang together’ in mutual dependency in the ESDP: neither state can realise this policy without the other. Britain thinks France cannot be left alone in the ESDP because that would endanger the primacy of NATO in the European security architecture. On the other hand, the French conclude that Britain cannot be allowed to dominate the ESDP as that would ensure that the EU would rank as a second-Â�order security organisation. Both states are therefore bound to participate in all ESDP initiatives in which one of them engages in order to shape, constrain or counteract the former – provided that one of them opts to use the EU arena (Matlary 2009). As Howorth puts it, ‘There is a paradox in the French–British security relationship. The two sides cannot manage a European security policy without one another, yet they have enormous difficulty, where transatlantic policy is concerned, in working with one another’ (2005: 39). There is an interdependence between France and Britain despite the different strategic interests they have. Even strong governments have a need to operate at an international level, in this case that of the EU. The EU decision in 2003 to form 16 battlegroups and to rotate them two by two biannually was spearheaded by the UK and France, who also have lead nation roles. A lead nation role in command and control is not realistic unless it contributes significantly on the ground. Big states are therefore dominant in military integration schemes because they can offer HQs as well as entire units, like battle groups. The battle groups of the EU illustrate the discrepancy between the military integration commitment and the intergovernmental nature of political decision making. Although the EU Council will decide on deployment by consensus, only those states that are military contributors are likely to matter in real terms. We know that the coalition of leaders regarding the use of force in the EU consists of France and the UK, with the support of Germany, but that no request for an EU deployment arises without prior consultation with troop contributing states. We can assume that the EU will remain vague on the question of ‘grand strategy’, and will be willing to deploy only on an ad hoc basis, as in the case mentioned. Thus, the consensual character of the decision-Â�making process will remain in formal terms, but the real decision making will evolve around those states that are on rotation with a battle group, always involving the major states France and the UK. In the case of multinational battle groups, all contributing states are bound to deploy together even if the formal option of defecting exists. EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 143 As Andersson points out in his study of the Nordic–Baltic battle group, even non-Â�EU member Norway is formally ‘consulted’ on the decision to deploy (2006: 39). In theory, states can withdraw their contribution. In reality to do so would be a significant blow to the credibility of that battlegroup member state. Which political dynamic? In the example of EU security and defence policy we see that states – even large ones – seek influence through an international organisation (IO) which serves as an arena for state action. Small states in particular seem to seek power within IOs as they do not have the ‘great power option’. The typology of power suggested by Barnett and Duvall (2005) is useful in this regard: power can be direct – A makes B do something B would not otherwise do; but it can also be indirect, in the form of institutional rule-Â�making – when A cannot compel B to do something, he can create conditions for B’s freedom of action that set the agenda or preclude certain types of decision. Thus, building international regimes, institutions, and law are not power-Â�neutral activities, but are as much a result of strategic thinking as is coercive diplomacy. Barnett and Duvall (ibid.: 9) criticise much of the liberal institutionalist literature on the basis that it ignores power and presents international cooperation and the concept of governance as benign arrangements for solving ‘cooperation problems’. But institutional power, they point out, ‘can operate .â•›.â•›. in underlying social structures and systems of knowledge that advantage some and disadvantage others’. States can be expected to seek IO arenas for bolstering their power, using indirect power rather than direct power. As multilateral legitimacy matters, even in high politics, this may explain why also great powers turn to IOs like the EU. But acting in and through an IO does not mean that the IO in question is Â�important in its own right. It has an arena function that ends when states cease to use it. This is the political dynamic of security and defence policy in the EU, I argue. Security policy in the EU is driven largely by the national interests of states. However, these national interests are not the traditional, static geo-Â�political interests that used to characterise security policy. The cooperation that occurs in the EU foreign policy area is often referred to as a ‘pooling’ of sovereignty. This means that states agree to cooperate, but that this cooperation is reversible although it may occasionally entail obligations. The main political dynamic in EU security policy is directly tied to the post-Â� national situation in Europe: the more optional the war, the weaker the support achieved. Hence the need for ‘negotiating’ between the domestic and the multilateral levels on the part of the state executive. Further, the more dangerous the mission, the more contested it becomes. Taken together, this means that an ‘optional war’ that is dangerous equals wavering and weakening public support. As we move from humanitarian missions of peacekeeping into very dangerous wars in places like Afghanistan and Iraq, the domestic political stakes are much 144â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary higher. Which government can survive major losses in an optional war in a society that no longer understands the risks of war? In sum, this fundamental change makes for new security policy dynamics in Western nations, particularly in Europe. The relevance of the domestic policy level becomes high also in security policy. Foreign policy analysis as well as the more specialised security studies field is not usually concerned with domestic factors. The dominant theory of security studies – realism – rules out the importance of domestic factors altogether, dismissing them. States are thought to be unitary actors pursuing a geo-Â�political interest where self-Â�help and relative power counts. The realist view is that states always pursue security because they are always threatened in an anarchic world. Thus, the state’s interests are given, and take pre-Â�eminence over all other political interests because they concern the very survival of the state. Today’s optional wars are of another kind than the existential state-Â�to-state war. As security and defence policy has become ‘normalised’, so has the political process. Where can we find analytical frameworks that help in the study of these new security dynamics? In the international relations literature, there is still very little emphasis on domestic determinants of foreign policy even if they now impact heavily also on security policy. The most sophisticated theorist of the domestic – international foreign policy dynamic is Robert Putnam. In his renowned article about two-Â�level games from 1988, he outlines how government executives use their exclusive access to both levels to gain advantages on both (Putnam 1988). When a minister emerges from a EU ministerial meeting, he addresses his national press and tells them how he has advanced national interests. If his interests were not favoured, he is able to argue that ‘the EU made me do it’– and so blame the EU. Putnam defines several policy dynamics. Policy pressure from the international level can be used to change policy domestically, as the government binds itself to international obligations and can argue that it is bound to implement them at home. Also, domestic constraints can be used to get one’s way in the international organisation – in fact, the more bound one is, the more one may gain because other states that want to reach an agreement and have larger scope for negotiation may be forced to concede much more than they would normally do. The government elite can play both levels of policy to their advantage, as we shall see in this book. In security and defence policy, governments can blame the international level when things go wrong; they can share risk and cost, and they can use the second level to effect changes at home. In neutral states like Sweden and Finland, the EU has been used to change the meaning of neutrality as one example of how the international level impacts on the national level (Græger et al. 2002). Having a multilateral ‘cover’ becomes increasingly important and makes for a precarious balance between commitment in ongoing operations and domestic public opinion. Western elites increasingly lack the experience of war and a ‘war ethic’, and the same must be said for Western publics When media report from the battle field, criticism mounts, and NGOs and media request detailed information on targets, weaponry, calibration, etc. (Frantzen 2005). They demand the EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 145 right to change views on deployment as fighting progresses and are often swayed by day-Â�to-day events in the field. Only in operations without much media coverage can elite control be maintained – both political and military. But almost all military operations today are highly media aware. Media are often ‘embedded’ in operations themselves, and in general, operations must count on much media interest once military force is employed. The Putnam (1988) framework of analysis postulates that states strong in the policy field in question – here security and defence – also can make use of the two-Â�level dynamics. The strong state can impact the more on negotiations and use the IO as a multiplier for its interests. Where the weak state can make use of its weakness to argue that others may accommodate it in order to an agreement to be made, a strong state can play games more freely. The development of this theme is especially interesting in the work by Koenig-Â�Archibugi (2004), who advances the thesis that governments ‘collude’ in seeking a strengthened role for themselves vis-Â�à-vis their own publics. He cites examples that show how the Italian government has opted for collusion in order to effect change at home, acting from a position of weakness: ‘During the Cold War, the government was quite happy to surrender sovereignty to international organisations if it meant removing defence from the political debate’ (ibid.: 173). This has also been the case with Germany in the security and defence field. Thus, weak governments will welcome ‘self-Â�binding’ at the international level precisely because the domestic level is so important in policy-Â�making. As for states with strong powers in a given issue area, they may need ‘pooling’ of sovereignty for other reasons, such as ‘pooling’ of risk and cost, and/or shaping of the IO in question. The importance of the EU means that also EU-Â�sceptical states like Britain have to participate. Thus, postmodern national interests are very different from the static geo-Â� political interests of traditional realist security policy. Instead they are changeÂ� able and optional, but not more optional than the fact that a government that wants influence in NATO and/or the EU must be able to contribute relevant military capacities and take risk. What we see emerge here is a fascinating political dynamic: the domestic level now matters most in security and defence policy, but its interests are often different to those of the government. The government typically wants to make major contributions to operations under NATO and the EU in order to strengthen their hand in these and to maintain them as such, and governments regard security policy in the traditional manner of ‘high politics’. Publics and domestic actors have little insight into and knowledge of this traditionally secret policy area, and are wont to use civilian yard sticks and criteria for making their judgements. There is controversy over risk and rising casualties, over cost and longevity of operations, and over motivations: why participate in optional wars, may be for the sake of gaining general influence? Both weak and strong governments need the multilateral setting of IOs, as arena, scape-Â�goat and as raw material for shaping their strategies. Thus, the French and the British cooperated bilaterally and also opted to develop the EU in this policy field. The inventions of the battlegroups as well as 146â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary the EDA were made by them. The battle groups were a major novelty requiring enormous effort by many states. Yet the battlegroups of the EU have not been deployed in the six years since 2006. The British under PM Gordon Brown refused to deploy them to the Congo. It remains unclear why, but also this was a highly optional ‘war’. It seems that both the British and the French decided to ‘nationalise’ their cooperation some years ago. Today their bilateral cooperation continues as the major showcase of such in Europe, but it is now bilateral, presented as a ‘partnership’, and the international arena both states choose, is NATO, not the EU. The Libya operation was planned and led by London and Paris, and only belatedly did NATO assume the role of military command and control, after intensive lobbying to be accorded such a role. NATO’s secretary-Â�general was not even invited to the crucial coalition meeting in the Elysee Palace on Saturday, 22 March 2011, when the operation commenced. Only the heads of state from contributing nations were invited. Each of the two states, France and the UK, could have provided national HQs to command the operation. In the Libyan operation the EU had no role whatsoever. It was not invited to any meetings, only the Germans wanted to involve the EU (albeit not themselves). The Libyan case illustrates the logic presented above. Security and defence policy is conducted at the national level, and states use IOs as arenas. They need and want such arenas in a post-Â�modern political setting where domestic politics matter also in this field. Yet the arena can be abandoned, as it was in the case of the EU’s battle groups. Despite the major effort made at creating the battlegroups, France and the UK have retreated to their bilateral collaboration in security and defence and sometimes opt to bring this to another arena, namely, NATO. But also here the movement is from capital to IO, based on pure intergovernmentalism. To sum up, the empirical data on EU security and defence policy strongly suggest that it has an arena function only. In the eight year period between 1998–2006 it played a role, but was subject to great powers’ political will to use it. After 2006 the EU played no military role. Conclusion: does the EU need military power? Joseph Nye has written much about contemporary power – types and levels (2002, 2008, 2011). In his most recent book, The Future of Power (2011), he argues that today, power in the world is distributed in a complex three-Â�dimensional chess-Â�game. On the top chess-Â�board, military power is largely uni-Â�polar and the US is likely to remain supreme for some time. But on the middle chess-Â� board, economic power has been multi-Â�polar for more than a decade, with the United States, Europe, Japan, and China as the major playersâ•›.â•›.â•›. (XV) EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 147 Thus, on the structural level of economic power we find Europe (EU) – as one of four major actors. In the field of military power, however, no one rivals the US. How important are types of power in relation to each other? Can they be compared at all? Nye attempts to do so, and concludes his analysis of the utility of force today thus: Military force remains important because it helps to structure world politics .â•›.â•›. markets and economic power rest upon political frameworks. In chaotic conditions of great uncertainty, markets fail. Political frameworks rest upon norms and institutions, but also upon management of coercive power. (ibid.: 49) In other words, the ordering power of military force is indispensable, even if this source of power cannot be used to achieve gains as it could in previous centuries. Applied to the EU, we can say that the stability and order of its member states presupposes the deterrent effect of police and military, and beyond the EU, that this role of force is even more important. Ideally therefore the EU should be able to complement its economic power with military force, but it cannot. It relies on the coercive ability of economic and political dependence and on its ‘power of attraction’, assuming that Europe remains politically stable. Yet, the territorial dimension of power is not the most relevant one today. Power is related to innovation, education, and global attractiveness. It is increasingly a matter of effective public diplomacy and of being, in the words of Chayes and Chayes (2005); a constructive international citizen. The competition is not for land, but for attraction talent and capital, what we can refer to as innovation ability. The EU’s race to overcome the economic crisis is necessary in order for it to work on becoming the most attractive and innovative region in the world, in order to achieve the goal set by the Lisbon strategy. Military power and the ability to coerce through such power seem rather irrelevant to the EU’s political goals. The EU ‘commands’ economic power, not military power. It has structural-Â� level economic power because the EU is an internal market and because it can act in the world both as a major rule-Â�maker, as in the WTO, and because it uses its economic power of money and of attraction as the template for impacting on candidates, third countries, and the other actors in the world economy. The economic strength of the market and the structural funds provides the EU’s power of coercion as well as attraction. In addition to this the EU mostly acts as one in this field, and the impact is great, especially when contrasted to the feeble role the EU plays in traditional ‘high politics’. Here it is but an arena; ‘now you see it, now you don’t’. Notes 1 The term refers to shared competence, and has been developed as a legal category byÂ€ the EU court. In practice this means that all member states must co-Â�sign a WTO 148â•‡â•‡ J.H. Matlary agreement, and they also partake in discussions on the mandates of the trade commissioner in Brussels in a committee wittily named ‘le comittee des belles-Â�meres’. 2 International Herald Tribune, ‘EU agrees to punish Hungary for budget slips’, 14 March 2012. 3 I focus in depth on the former policy area, and use ‘low’ politics in the EU as illustrations only. Space does not permit equal attention to both. 4 European Economic Area. References Andersson, Jan J. (2006). Armed and ready? The EU battlegroup concept and the Nordic battlegroup. Stockholm: International Peace Research Institute. Barnett, Michael and Duvall, Raymond (eds) (2005). Power in global governance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carlsnaes, Walter and Smith, Steve (1994). European foreign policy: The EC and changing perspectives on Europe. London: Sage. Carlsnaes, Walter and Smith, Steve (2004). Contemporary European foreign policy. London: Sage. Carlsnaes, Walter and Smith, Steve (2012). Foreign policy analysis in international relations. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chayes, Abram and Chayes, Antonia Handlerl (1995). The new sovereignty. compliance with international regulatory agreements. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Frantzen, Henning A. (2005). NATO and peace support operations, 1991–1999. London: Frank Cass. Edwards, Geoffrey (2011). The patterns of the EU’s global activity. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union (pp.Â€44–75). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Græger, Nina, Larsen, Henrik and Ojanen, Hanna (2002). The ESDP and the Nordic countries. Berlin: Institut fur Europeaische Politik. Hill, Christopher and Smith, Steve (2011). Acting for Europe: Reassessing the EU’s place in international relations. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Howorth, Jolyon (2005). From security to defence: The evolution of the CFSP. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Howorth, Jolyon (2011). The EU’s security and defence policy: Towards a strategic approach. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Koenig-Â�Archibugi, Mathias (2004a). International governance as a new raison d’etat? The case of the EU CFSP. European Journal of International Relations, 10(2), 147–188. Matlary, Janne Haaland (1997). Energy policy in the European Union. The European Union series. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Matlary, Janne Haaland (2009). European Union security dynamics: In the new national interest. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Nye, Joseph (2011). The future of power. Philadelphia, PA: Public Affairs. Putnam, Robert (1988). The logic of two-Â�level games. International Organisation, 42(3), 427–460. Smith, Michael (2011) «The EU and the US». In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. EU foreign policyâ•‡â•‡ 149 Smith, Steve, Hadfield, Amelia and Dunne, Tim (eds) (2012). Foreign Policy Analysis: Theories, Actors, Cases. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wong, Reuben (2011) The Europeanization of foreign policy. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Carbone Maurizio, (2011). The EU and the developing world: Partnership, poverty, politicization. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Smith, Michael and Steffenson, Rebecca (2011). The EU and the United States. In Christopher Hill and Michael Smith (eds), International relations and the European Union (Ch. 2). Oxford: Oxford University Press. 12 The EU foreign and security policy High expectations, low capabilities? Pernille Rieker Introduction As Knud Erik Jørgensen has argued in Chapter 9, vertical perspectives (emphasizing the relationship between the national and the European levels) have dominated horizontal perspectives (emphasizing the EU as an actor) in the literature on European foreign policy. This chapter offers a horizontal perspective, but also recognizes the importance of the national level, in that I argue for a multi-Â�level governance perspective on European foreign policy. More systematic empirical studies of the functioning of European foreign policy are needed for us to understand and thereby conceptualize this field better. Walter Carlsnaes has made an excellent contribution with the edited volume, Contemporary European Foreign Policy (Carlsnaes et al. 2004). This chapter follows up on this endeavour.1 For over 30 years, scholars have argued that the EC/EU has lacked the required capabilities needed to be perceived as a credible actor (Bull 1983; Hill 1993, 2007; Hoffmann 2000; Hyde-Â�Price 2006, 2008; Kagan 2003). However, the EU’s many achievements in the area of security policy since the early 1990s should provide ample grounds for concluding that it must now be seen as a security policy actor. Suffice it here to mention only four. First, the EU has had a Common Foreign and Security Policy since 1992 (CFSP) and a Common European Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) since 1999. Second, in 2003 the member states agreed on a European Security Strategy (ESS) that identifies threats, objectives and instruments. Third, the European Union (represented by the European Commission, the Council or the newly established European External Action Service) has implemented a wide range of programmes and activities to promote stability and conflict prevention in Europe and all over the world. Finally, the EU has had responsibility for a considerable number of crisis management operations (17 civilian/civil–military operations and seven military operations) since 2003.2 While the European integration process has long been an important security policy instrument that has helped to prevent wars and conflict among its members, as well as having a stabilizing effect on the region as such, today’s European Union can also be characterized as a security policy actor. Surely, then, the question is no longer whether the EU is a security policy actor, but rather what kind of actor it is. The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 151 Among those who accept that the EU is an actor, it has been common to emphasize its importance as some kind of normative or cosmopolitan actor (Manners 2002, 2006; McCormick 2006; Sjursen 2006; see also Chapter 10 in this volume). While providing insights, this literature has tended to downplay the capability issue. In this chapter, I focus on the actual functioning of the EU as a security actor and how it differs from most other actors in international society (Moravcsik 2010). The fact that the EU is something between an international organization and a federal state makes it different from OSCE and NATO on the one hand, and national security policy actors on the other (Rieker 2006, 2009). Instead of using the normative power argument as a point of departure, I will therefore start by analysing the relationship between integration and security and then turn to the various actor capabilities of the EU. While Christopher Hill’s (1993) argument concerning the gap between expectations and capabilities remains valid to some extent, the EU’s many achievements in security policy since the early 1990s also illustrate the need to revisit his argument, as I intend to do here.3 Security and integration There is general agreement that the integration process as such has been, and remains, an important security policy instrument. In fact, it was precisely the desire for lasting peace and stability in Europe after two disastrous world wars that made the integration process so important. Also other factors have contributed to peace and stability in this part of the world, but there can be little doubt that stronger economic integration in Europe has been a pivotal instrument for creating peace. According to Buzan and his colleagues, the ‘European Security Complex’ is characterized by centralization, with the EU as the core. Further, they hold, a reversal of this process is unlikely, since any form of fragmentation of the European integration process would have negative security policy consequences (Buzan 1991; Buzan and Wæver 2004; Buzan et al. 1998: 12). The integration process has had security policy consequences beyond the Western part of Europe. The Eastern enlargement of the EU after the end of the Cold War, and more recently also its European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) must be seen as continuations of this idea (Epstein and Sedelmeier 2008; Rieker 2012; Sæter 2003). These projects have aimed at creating peace and stability on the continent through commitments and interdependence. Membership of the EU requires, among other things, a well-Â�functioning market economy, democracy and respect for human rights and minorities. This means that the prospect of joining the EU can serve to discipline and prevent conflicts internally in these aspirant countries and thereby in the region as such. This is evident in relation to the 12 countries accepted as members in recent years, and among current applicants in the Balkans. While the EU is a peace project in itself, with the desire for peace and security serving as the main reason behind the integration process, the fields of security studies literature and integration literature have long been seen as belonging to 152â•‡â•‡ P. Rieker two different disciplines. With the security community literature, we find an opening for a combination of the two. The EU as a tightly coupled security community The concept security community was first developed by Karl Deutsch in the late 1950s (Deutsch 1957) in order to contribute to a deeper understanding of the tight transatlantic relations that, in his view, could be characterized as a pluralistic community built on co-Â�operation and transactions on many levels, with common understandings and common values. The concept has since been applied and further developed by other scholars. Adler and Barnett (1998), for instance, have examined how it can be used for understanding other regional processes around the world. They distinguish between loosely and tightly coupled security communities. Both types are characterized by mutual dependence and respect, but differ in the degree of political integration: a loosely coupled security community has a low degree of political integration, a tightly coupled one has a high degree of political integration. This is not a dichotomous relationship. We should perceive such of a security community as a continuum, with differing possible degrees of loose or tight coupling. The EU, being something in-Â�between an international organization and a federal state, has gradually evolved and moved along this continuum, becoming an increasingly tightly coupled security community. Just what do we mean by saying that the EU is a tightly coupled security community? And what consequences does this have for its security policy role? In order to grasp how the EU functions in practice, we need to take a closer look at how it is governed. Perhaps the functioning of the EU can be best understood as a kind of multi-Â�level governance system where the member states, the Council of European Union and the European Commission all play important roles. The EU understood as a multi-Â�level governance system Multi-Â�level governance refers to a ‘polity-Â�creating process in which authority and policy-Â�making influence are shared across multiple levels of government – sub national, national and supranational’ (Marks and Hooghe 2001: 2). It can be argued that the EU as a whole functions as a multi-Â�level governance system in most policy areas and that this is a consequence of it being neither a true federation nor a true international organization. However, this approach has been applied in order to understand how the European Community (previously referred to as ‘pillar 1’) functions, and why that particular area has achieved such a high degree of decision-Â�making power. Other policy areas, such as the Common Foreign and Security Policy (‘pillar 2’), have generally been analysed in line with an interest-Â�based perspective that sees the member states as the most important actors. In fact, an institutional perspective can be fruitful for analysing also this policy area. Even though CFSP still is a policy area where most decisions are The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 153 made by unanimity, and where the member states are the main actors, the EU level – represented by the Council Secretariat and the Commission and now primarily the External Action Service – has gradually come to assume a more central role in the development and implementation of foreign and security policy. Several initiatives have come from the EU level (until recently represented by the High Representative for CFSP alone or together with the Commissioner for External Relations). This was the case, for instance, for the programme for conflict prevention decided upon in 2001, the European Security Strategy in 2003, the report on climate change and international security that the member states jointly supported in 2008 and the recent report (2011) proposing an EU response to the Arab awakening and the changing EU neighbourhood. In addition, most proposals for the development of the CSDP have been prepared by the High Representative (until recently, often in cooperation with the presidency) before the members adopt them at the bi-Â�annual summits. With the establishment in of a new High Representative assisted by an External Action Service (EEAS), the EU level has assumed even greater importance. It is also the EU level that, to a large extent, implements the CFSP. Until recently the Commission has implemented activities within the frame work of civilian crisis management and conflict prevention, with the Council implementing the ESDP operations. Now, with the establishment of the new High Representative and the EEAS, these efforts must be seen as a whole. The difference between the ‘pillars’ within the EU has become less important than previously. A perspective on the CFSP that stresses the importance of different levels has the advantage that it avoids giving the EU level too little or too much emphasis, which is the case with, respectively, the intergovernmental and the neo-Â� functionalist perspectives on EU policy (Rosamond 2000). A multi-Â�level governance perspective enables us to study the EU as an actor, on the basis of how decisions in are made and how they are implemented. At this point, we may conclude that the EU is a security policy actor underway to becoming a tightly coupled security actor, with a decision-Â�making structure best characterized as multi-Â�level governance. Let us now see what consequences such a perspective on the EU could have for drawing conclusions as to its capacity to act. The EU’s actor capabilities Actorness in international politics may be understood in various ways. While some scholars stress the importance of internal resources (Sjöstedt 1977), others put more emphasis on the perceptions of international society (Bretherton and Vogler 2006). I would argue that two basic preconditions must be fulfilled in order to claim that an actor has the capacity to act and to avoid a gap between expectations and capabilities (Hill 1993). First, the actor has to be able to formulate clear objectives and make decisions according to these objectives; second, the actor must have the necessary administrative and operational capabilities 154â•‡â•‡ P. Rieker (Rieker 2009). To what extent has the EU managed to develop these capabilities? Ability to formulate objectives The EU lives up to expectations when it comes to the ability to formulate objectives. Its member states have adopted a wide range of declarations and agreed on fairly ambitious objectives within the area of foreign and security policy, which would indicate that the political will to strengthen the EU as a security policy actor is in place. This is also made explicit in the European Security Strategy adopted in December 2003. Here the member states identify potential threats, strategic objectives and implications for the instruments of the EU (European Council 2003). In order to implement these objectives, the EU must be able to make Â�decisions that commit its members. As was seen in relation to the Iraq War in 2003, the EU will not be able to act if its various member states differ deeply in their approaches and views concerning a given conflict. In the case of Iraq there was a divide between those who supported a US-Â�led war, and those that were against. A further example: the EU countries failed to send troops to Congo in November 2008 – a country then on the brink of exploding into civil war. Whereas France was keen to send EU’s battle groups, which have been developed for precisely for such cases, Germany feared that such an EU force could weaken the legitimacy of the UN operation in the country. Despite occasional difficulties in making decisions, there have been many instances of internal ‘crisis’ or major international events that led to decisions which have made the EU gradually more capable of action. While CFSP was established as a consequence of the end of the Cold War, the establishment of the ESDP came as a consequence of the Balkan wars and the recognition that the EU would have to strengthen its capacity for handling international crises in its neighbourhood. Moreover, the events of 9/11 led to a strengthening of the EU’s anti-Â�terror policy. Internal disagreements among member states prior to the Iraq War also helped to bring about the adoption of a European Security Strategy. Finally, the enlargement of the EU has led to institutional reforms, here materialized in the establishment of a High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy (Catherine Ashton) and an External Action Service aimed at making an enlarged Union more capable of acting – also in security policy.4 There is also broad agreement within the EU concerning what kind of security policy orientation it should have – for instance, as to the importance of multiÂ� lateral institutions, and that the focus should be on a broad approach to security where conflict prevention and civilian crisis management play an important role in addition to the development of a military crisis-Â�management capacity. Thus, the member states have managed to agree on the overarching objectives even though they may from time to time find it difficult to make decisions in relation to specific crises and conflicts. On the other hand, the EU has implemented a total of 24 crisis-Â�management operations, and has developed capabilities in The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 155 Â� intelligence, analysis and anti-Â�terror policy: surely evidence that it does have the ability to make decisions. Capabilities and resources In addition to the ability to formulate objectives and make decisions, an actor needs certain administrative capabilities. According to March and Olsen (1995: 91), these include a well-Â�functioning set of rules, rights and authorities, necessary resources (in the form of budgets, staffs and equipment), knowledge and competence, and organizational capacity. The remainder of this chapter will examine the extent to which the EU possesses these administrative capabilities in foreign, security and defence policy. 1â•‡ The existence of a formal set of rules, rights and authorities A smoothly-Â�functioning set of rules, rights and authorities is necessary in order to act, since this clarifies what the actor can do, in what way and with what kind of means. In security policy, the EU’s rules have gradually become more extensive. The CFSP is currently regulated in the Title V of the Treaty on European Union signed at Maastricht in 1992 and revised in 1997, 2001 and 2007. The Treaty identifies some overarching goals and principles (for instance, that the CFSP shall be in accordance with the UN Charter and with international law), together with more detailed rules clarifying the competencies of the different EU institutions. Whereas the CFSP was included in the 1992 Maastricht Treaty, the establishment of a High Representative for CFSP was not introduced in the Treaty until 1997. The position was meant to be held by the Secretary General of the Council, thereby contributing to make this policy area more visible at the overall EU level. The Commission – otherwise the most important institution of the European Union – has a more limited role in this policy area. Article 27 of the Treaty confirms, however, that the Commission s is to be fully associated with the work under the CFSP and is to ensure that EU policy is undertaken in accordance with the acquis communautaire. In addition, the Commission has, through the budget, a certain role concerning implementation of this policy. The Commission may also, in the same way as the member states, propose changes to the Treaty. Thus, there can be little doubt that the EU is equipped with a set of rules in the field of security policy, and that these have been gradually strengthened since the CFSP was first established in 1992. Still, this policy area is formally an intergovernmental cooperation where most of the decisions are taken by unanimity. On the other hand, as we have shown, there has been a development towards greater influence by the EU level, also in this area. The establishment of a High Representative for CFSP and the gradual strengthening of the role of the Commission have led to more supranationality here as well. The Lisbon Treaty, making the High Representative (HR) also the Vice President (VP) of the Commission, has made this even more evident. The fact that it is the HR/VP (and no 156â•‡â•‡ P. Rieker longer a rotating presidency) who is to preside over the Foreign Affairs Council as well as representing the EU in matters of CFSP also strengthens the role of the EU level in this policy area. The new diplomatic service, the European External Action Service (EEAS), will also assist the HR/VP in fulfilling her mandate. While this new service will not be fully operational before 2012, perhaps even later, the considerable capabilities at its disposal might prove crucial when in place. One clear result is a stronger centre formation. Another possible development is the downscaling of some of the member states’ capabilities. Already some member states have announced that they might reduce their own national diplomatic corps as a consequence of the EU developing this service under the EEAS. In periods of financial uncertainty and debt problems, many member states may wish to consider more cost-Â�effective arrangements, and they may prove more willing to consider the benefits of economies of scale. 2â•‡ Limited, but increasing, resources In addition to a formal set of rules, an actor also needs certain resources, such as a stable economic frame, staff and equipment, in order to implement its policy. As we shall see, the EU has had limited but increasing resources in this area. In 2011 the CFSP budget (€0.3 billion) represented 0.2 per cent of the overall EU budget. If we include all the funds earmarked for its international activities – in the budget referred to as ‘the EU as a global actor’ (€8.8 billion), which includes the enlargement process, neighbourhood policy, development assistance, various activities to promote democracy and human rights around the world, CFSP and the Stability Instrument – this represents 6.1 per cent of the total EU budget.5 In other words, only a very small part of the budget is used for various security policy initiatives, even when we apply a broad understanding of ‘security’ as a basis. On the other hand, it should be noted that the CFSP budget has increased substantially since 2002 (from €30 million to €300 million) and that the financial framework for the period 2007 to 2013 envisages a further increase (up to €340 million).6 As the EU budget goes to the activities of the Commission, EU military operations will be covered by national contributions, not by this budget. National contributions come mainly from those countries that participate in the various operations. To make the EU more dynamic here, however, the member states have agreed on a financing mechanism, ATHENA, which allows the Council Secretariat to have a certain amount of funding available to cover the shared costs of an operation – typically, the cost of headquarters, infrastructure and medical help. The participating countries then contribute with soldiers, weapons and equipment. But since ATHENA represents only 10 per cent of the total costs of a military operation, the EU is still dependent on the participation of one or more of the larger member states.7 A major challenge to the EU is still that it lacks funds to enable it to act quickly in an emergency. This leads to a disparity between the ambitions expressed in the EU’s official security strategy and the means it actually has at its disposal. The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 157 The Council and the Commission are together responsible for ensuring that the EU has a consistent foreign policy. This includes all aspects of external relations, security policy, economy and aid. Among the Commission’s staff, there were, prior to the establishment of the EEAS, only 6 per cent who in one way or the other were working within this field, even though many different offices and ‘ministries’ are involved. In the Council Secretariat there has, since the establishment of the CFSP, been an increase in the number of employees working with this policy area. All the same, the criticism that the EU has many institutions and few people to implement its security policy is probably still valid. Although the number of employees may not be the most important factor in determining whether the EU is an effective security policy actor, it gives nevertheless an indication of how much priority is accorded to this policy area. Beside budgets and staff, an actor must also have the equipment necessary for implementing policies. A security policy actor cannot function properly without civilian and military capabilities. The EU has relatively limited resources in this area, but its members have pledged to make a certain number of civilians and military capabilities available through various ‘Headline Goals’ (Lindström, 2007). At the summit in Laeken in December 2001, the member states declared that the EU was now able to conduct some crisis management operations. Since then, it has further developed and improved its abilities in international crisis management. On the military side, the focus has been on developing smaller battle groups that can be inserted in a crisis area at short notice. A Defence Agency was established in 2004 to support the member states and the Council in their efforts to strengthen EU military crisis-Â�management capabilities and to develop industrial policy. However, some shortcomings remain. The lack of common European military headquarters, evacuation forces, joint training and interoperability is considered to be the main challenge in this area (Howorth 2007). On the other hand, the EU has been very effective in drawing on and utilizing member-Â�state military facilities to achieve common European goals (Ulriksen 2007). The establishment of emergency response forces or ‘battle groups’ has also strengthened the ability to act quickly when needed. On the civilian side, member states have met the objectives, but some uncertainty remains as to how accessible these capabilities actually are. Many of the same capabilities are also committed to other multilateral institutions and might therefore be in use by the UN or the OSCE when the EU needs them (Jakobsen 2006). The fact that the EU has been able to carry out 17 civilian and civil-Â�military operations and seven military crisis management operations since 2003, however, indicates that it does have a certain amount of resources available. 3â•‡ A continuous learning process A third type of administrative capability necessary for an actor is security policy expertise, experience and knowledge. As individuals acquire knowledge and 158â•‡â•‡ P. Rieker skills through education and training, institutions represent enshrined knowledge in traditions and rules. Skills and knowledge will therefore depend on a combination of good recruitment policies, good leadership, good training programmes and the appropriate use of advice emanating from the expertise of reputable research institutes and think-Â�tanks. For the EU, security policy competence will hinge on a combination of the institution’s ability to draw on the expertise of its member states and its ability to develop specific programmes for training and learning. It has been argued that the EU is a young and inexperienced security political actor (Hoffman 2000; Kagan 2003) or a small power (Toje 2011). Such criticisms fail to account for the fact that the member states all come with extensive experience – from their individual security policies, as well as through participation in other multilateral structures such as NATO and the UN. In turn, this expertise will be channelled into the EU through national participation in various expert groups (the Commission) and working groups or committees (the Council). However, we should also note that the Commission has significantly reduced its use of expert groups in this area since 2000 (Gornitska and Sverdrup 2011). The Council, on the other hand, draws heavily on national expertise. The Political and Security Committee (PSC, represented by the member-Â�state ambassadors), which gets advice from the Military Committee (MC, represented by the member countries’ designated heads or their representatives) and the the Committee for Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management (CIVCOM, represented by various national experts), has been particularly influential. Additionally, many workshops are held, with national experts in various fields. The EU has proven surprisingly adaptable to the new security policy context – perhaps even more so than many of its individual member-Â�countries. Perhaps because the EC/EU had no clearly defined security policy until after the Cold War, it was easier to adapt to a new era. Unlike well-Â�established security policy actors, the EU did not have to go through long and difficult restructuring proÂ� cesses: it could start to develop a security policy from scratch. Since then, the EU has taken a range of initiatives to increase its expertise in this field. For one thing, both the Commission and the Council have made use of expertise from various research institutes and think-Â�tanks. The EU’s own Institute for Security Studies (EUISS) in Paris is frequently used, as is the European Policy Centre in Brussels. The EU has also established a separate college, the European Security and Defence College (founded in 2005), which offers training of civilian and military personnel. Training programmes for civilian–military coordination are implemented by both the Commission and Council in addition to a range of civilian and military crisis management exercises. This is an ongoing process. The EU has built up a certain degree of expertise in this field, both by virtue of the experience held by its member states, and by developing its own learning programmes. The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 159 4â•‡ Lack of organizational skills Organizational skills are the last but perhaps most important capability essential to an actor’s ability to take collective action. While such skills also depend on the presence of other capabilities (regulations, resources and expertise), all these must be applied effectively. As March and Olsen argue, ‘Without organizational talents, experience, and understanding, the other capabilities are likely to be lost in problems of coordination and control [.â•›.â•›.]’ (1995: 95). There are many institutions at several levels that have a role to play in EU’s security policy. In fact, the Commission, the Council, various independent agencies and member states all contribute to the development and implementation of the CFSP. Although there are regulations for how they are to operate together, these are often so general that uncertainties remain as to the distribution of responsibilities. Such coordination problems can be observed within the Commission, within the Council as well as between the Commission and the Council. Coordination problems within the Commission relate first and foremost to the fact that there are several DGs and underlying bodies responsible for the external relations and security policy of the EU. Due to internal communication problems, the Commission does not always manage to act in a unified way. In some cases this has even led to contradictory policies towards third countries (Duke 2006: 10). However, various reform measures have been implemented to remedy these problems. With the Amsterdam Treaty, for instance, the Commission’s various bodies responsible for external relations were simplified and a separate ministry for external relations (DG Relex) was created, tasked with ensuring Â�coordination and cooperation. The creation of a programme for conflict prevention in 2001 and the increase in flexible funding arrangements, such as the Rapid Reaction Mechanism (2001) and the Stability Instrument (2007), have also aimed at streamlining the Commission\s activities. By contrast, coordination problems within the Council are of a different character, with political as well as institutional dimensions. While the political dimension concerns the traditional coordination problems between member states within a policy area where most formal decisions are taken by unanimity, the institutional dimension is about coordination problems between civilian and military personnel. While the problems in the political dimension have no solution in the short term and will from time to time continue to put certain restrictions on the EU’s ability to act, those in the institutional dimension have led to the creation of structures designed to strengthen civil‒military cooperation. The establishment of a civilian–military unit within the military staff in 2005 must be understood as an attempt to do precisely that (Knutsen 2008). As we have seen, measures have been undertaken in order to do something about the coordination problems within the Commission and the Council. Despite the measures set out in the Lisbon Treaty, there remain some important coordination problems between these two institutions (Topala 2010). This is due mainly to different bureaucratic cultures and an unclear division of labour – especially as regards civilian crisis management. 160â•‡â•‡ P. Rieker Recently, efforts have been made to promote such inter-Â�institutional coordination. In addition to the Lisbon Treaty, the new financial framework for the period 2007–2013 opens the way for a more flexible funding system for international civilian crisis management that may facilitate better coordination in this policy area. Concluding remarks We have seen that the European Union is both a security policy instrument and a security policy actor – or rather, the European integration process is a security policy instrument and the EU is a security actor. While the integration process itself is an instrument of security policy and peace-Â�building, the creation of a common foreign, security and defence policy, in addition to the Commission’s activities in civilian crisis management and conflict prevention around the world have demonstrated that the EU has also become an important security political actor. Since the EU is neither an international organization nor a state, alternative analytical tools are needed in order to understand what kind of actor the EU is and how it works. This chapter has shown how a combination of a security community perspective and a multi-Â�level governance perspective may prove fruitful. With this combination, the value of the integration process as the security policy instrument is emphasized, while the EU is presented an actor without over- or under-Â�emphasizing on the EU level as such. We have also seen how a study of the EU’s ability to formulate goals and make decisions together with a study of its administrative capabilities can contribute to a better understanding of the EU’s actor properties. While it has formulated clear objectives for its security policy in the European Security Strategy of 2003, the EU has not always succeeded in taking the decisions necessary to follow up these goals. In this sense there has been created a certain gap between expectations and capabilities, as described by Christopher Hill (1993). On the other hand, the various crises in EU history related to the inability to make Â�decisions have led to a continuation of the integration process in this area. The question is now what consequences the current financial crisis will have for the further development of the CFSP. With regard to administrative capabilities, study of the EU regulations, resources, expertise and organizational capabilities shows that the EU is gradually, although sometimes slowly, becoming a more potent security policy actor. Despite some remaining deficiencies in these areas, the biggest challenge is perhaps still related to the lack of coordination, control and management in the EU. This is a significant point since, according to March and Olsen (1995), precisely these are the most important of the necessary capabilities. While it is the lack of decision-Â�making ability that most often places limitations on the EU’s ability to perform as a security policy actor, coordination problems between the institutions (or levels) often restrict what it can achieve even when a decision has been reached. And perhaps this is the main reason why the EU’s potential as a security political actor has yet not been fully exploited. The EU foreign and security policyâ•‡â•‡ 161 Notes 1 I have enjoyed the support and guidance of Professor Walter Carlsnaes – first as my supervisor, then as a colleague at the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs. His experience, academic skills and extensive connections have been crucial to my work, and I am extremely grateful for having the opportunity of working so closely with him. 2 www.consilium.europa.eu/showPage.aspx?id=268&lang=en. 3 An earlier version of this work was published in 2009 in the Journal of European Integration, 31(6), 703–720). 4 The External Action Service was officially launched in December 2010, but will not be fully operational before 2012. 5 http://ec.europa.eu/budget/library/publications/budget_in_fig/dep_eu_budg_2008_ en.pdf. 6 http://eur-Â�lex.europa.eu/budget/www/index-Â�en.htm. 7 www.consilium.europa.eu/uedocs/cmsUpload/ATHENA_june-Â�2007.pdf. References Adler, Emanuel and Barnett, Michael (eds) (1998) Security Communities. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bretherton, Charlotte and Vogler, John (2006). The European Union as a Global Actor. London: Routledge. Bull, Hedley (1983). Civilian power Europe: A contradiction in terms? 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The European superpower. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Moravcsik, Andrew (2010). Europe, the second super power. Current History, March, 91–98. Rieker, Pernille (2006). Europeanization of national security identity: The EU and the changing security identities of the Nordic states. London: Routledge. Rieker, Pernille (2009). The EU – a capable security actor? Developing administrative capabilities. Journal of European Integration, 31(6), 703–719. Rieker, Pernille (2012). Integration, security and the European neighborhood: The importance of the ENP as a security policy instrument. Studia Diplomatica, 1, 69–77. Rosamond, Ben (2000). Theories of European integration. London: Macmillan. Sæter, Martin (2003). EU-Â�prosessen omformer europeisk sikkerhet. In P. Rieker and S. Ulriksen (eds), En annerledes supermakt? Sikkerhets- og forsvarspolitikken i EU. Oslo: Nupi. Sjöstedt, Gunnar (1977). The external role of the European Community. London: Saxon House. Sjursen, Helene (2006). 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Not only do ideas matter, but equally the manner in which they originate, diffuse and are perceived. The reaction from the mainstream rationalist camp was that either the whole notion was dismissed as lacking in scientific rigour and methodological potential, or it was co-Â�opted into the prevailing narrative of the rational actor as a calculation of the existing ideological ‘moods’ that could affect the success of a foreign policy framework pursued by any given government. The most vivid installment into the second portrayal of ideas was an edited volume by Robert Keohane and Judith Goldstein, Ideas and Foreign Policy: Beliefs, Institutions and Political Change (1993). Walter Carlsnaes offered this book as required reading in his Master’s course for several years, and used it to problematize ideational causation and expand the notion that ideas do matter to foreign policy. The gist of the book’s argument, elaborated in Goldstein and Keohane’s succinct introductory chapter is that ideas have causal pathways to influence (that are largely compatible with formal models of rational choice) and that arguably satisfies the call for ideational causation. The Goldstein and Keohane suggestion of a space for ideas in actor’s choices is part and parcel of the ‘thickening’ of rational choice theory, and the incorporation of new explanans into the rational actor model of analysing politics. The problem with these thick-Â�rational accounts is that they ‘contain no theory determining the selection of agent identities, values, beliefs, and strategic opportunities’ (Ferejohn 1991: 282). More than that, in combining analytical entities that are both the traditional ingredients to rational choice modeling, and others that have been allowed to shape the theoretical and conceptual tools of distinct approaches, thick-Â�rational accounts of political action risk putting the cart before the horse. Ian Shapiro has put it concisely: ‘That is why we press the question, What seems most likely to account for X? as superior to: How can a rational choice model be developed that can account for X?’ (Shapiro 2005: 89). 164â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander This chapter will suggest a number of ways that ideas, in these cases deeply held ideological convictions, can influence foreign policy decisions in spite of serious objections based on legal, political, strategic and popular grounds. It will not provide conclusive evidence of the ‘causal pathways’ that these ideas traveled into policy, nor will it falsify alternative explanations to the specific policy outcomes, but it will make credible and reflect upon ideas as political currency, and ideological compatibility as conducive to salience, on a given government’s agenda. The theoretical tools used will be retrieved from the broader field of political psychology, and will devise credible strategies for individuals coping with the cross pressure of ‘evidence’ and political expedience. The cases selected for this discussion, the US and UK use of intelligence information in their respective decision to initiate military action against Iraq are, considering what is generally known about the decision-Â�making processes a most likely case. Most likely, that is, to reveal poorly disguised attempts by the political leadership to influence ostensibly rule-Â�based processes of intelligence gathering, evaluation, and analysis. On the other hand, the two national systems under scrutiny have admittedly strong traditions of accountability and public disclosure, which attaches a measure of real risk to tampering with ‘due process’ and the independence of professional intelligence organizations. Numerous scandals over the years, in both national governments, have demonstrated both the risks involved and the conflicting proclivity to manipulate and use political power in illegal or illegitimate ways in order to produce support for controversial policies. The decision to intervene in Iraq 2003 When the bombing campaign in Iraq was initiated on 20 March 2003, the timing was based on last second intelligence from the CIA that Saddam Hussein and his sons were gathered at a southern Baghdad compound, Doura Farms, which was targeted with cruise missiles and bunker busting bombs. The intelligence proved to be unreliable. It was the latest installment a series of intelligence mistakes, the most infamous of these being reports on Iraqi Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMDs) that had been served to the White House in the President’s Daily Briefs and the Senior Executive Intelligence Briefs (US Senate 2004). As Secretary of State Colin Powell prepared for his speech to the U.N. Security Council on the eve of war in February that year, he spent time face to face with Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) George Tenet going over the best possible estimate of Iraqi capabilities, questioning the CIA’s reports and their sources. ‘Tenet looked him in the eye and told him it was rock solid’ (Weiner 2007: 568). In light of this, can the failure of providing a casus belli for the invasion of Iraq thus be squarely placed with the CIA, or is it more complicated than that? Was it, rather, the extreme and well-Â�documented pressure applied by the principals of the Bush team rather that threw the intelligence system out of orbit and produced the fiction and fables that the administration wanted to hear? I will try to shed light on these questions by exploring value complexity as a dilemma Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 165 when faced with a more or less acute security context, and relate the resulting dynamic to the intra-Â�governmental pressures as they may be applied and/or anticipated. The link between these decision processes and the failure to produce a legitimate policy is constituted by ignorance of long-Â�term consequences that usually would conflict with decision-Â�makers’ own ethical standards. The concern with a greater good forces a number of lesser evils into the policy process that undermine the possibility of an outcome that abide by established ethical norms, to the damage of the primary actors as well as their institutional surroundings. In order to draw reasonable conclusions about the administration of classified intelligence and discreet advice, we need to recognize both the limited (some would say inconclusive) empirical basis for such studies, and the often self-Â� serving account decision-Â�makers and advisors provide of actual deliberations and decisions. The cases This chapter will examine and discuss early empirical accounts of the decisions by the Bush administration and the Blair government to invade Iraq in 2003. Obviously, the historical record is far from complete regarding the decision-Â� making and intelligence processes that preceded the invasion, and facts that could potentially affect the validity of our findings could surface as more classified material is made public. Nevertheless, the actions of these two governments have been more publicly scrutinized in closer proximity to the events in question than perhaps any other event of global political importance. Furthermore, the value complexity that drives the processes hypothesized here, and that manifested themselves over the course of the decision-Â�making process, are to a large degree in the public domain (such as the evidence presented by Secretary of State Colin Powell in the UN Security Council in February 2003). The US The primary, and extremely public, failure of both the studied governments to legitimize their cause for war was their ultimately discredited claim that Saddam Hussein had the capacity to unleash weapons of mass destruction in 45 minutes. The more substantial argument presented to the United Nations’ Security Council was that Iraq was in material breach of UNSC resolution 1441, in its refusal to cooperate with the UN weapons inspectors and provide evidence of the destruction of its known possession of WMDs. However, the pièce de résistance was the repeated claim that Saddam indeed possessed and planned to deploy these weapons. In attempting to trace the intelligence process that provided cover for the claim, we need to consider the end of the first Gulf war, and the weapons inspection regime that was put in place under the auspices of the UN. The evasive tactics of the Iraqi military and political establishments rapidly eroded any remaining shred of credibility that the regime might have had with 166â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander the inspectors (or with the CIA, which was deeply involved in the search for elements of a weapons programme). Faced with a culture of lies, the prevailing wisdom in the West was that whatever Saddam could get away with, he would (Kay 2004; Blair 2010: 413). The CIA was, throughout the end of the Cold War and with the depletion of resources that followed it, short on human intelligence, eyes and ears on the ground, in current and likely future hotspots of US foreign policy (Berkowitz 2003). This became painfully obvious as Al Qaeda raced up the security agenda and it turned out that their capabilities were largely unknown to the western intelligence community (Woodward 2006: 49–52, 90). The CIA tried to make up for their poor intelligence capacity by offering large sums of money to defectors and regional experts with knowledge of the Iraqi military system. The result was a flow of low quality intelligence that could not be verified or validated through other means (Kay 2004). The relationship between the Bush administration and the intelligence community was, despite their common interest in finding the goods on Saddam Hussein, a tense one. The most visible sign of the distrust that existed between the levels of government was the politically motivated exposure of a covert CIA operative named Valerie Plame. Plame’s husband, former Ambassador Joseph Wilson IV, had been sent by the CIA to investigate the rumor that Iraq tried to acquire yellow cake from Niger. He had quickly decided that the rumor was false, and when the allegation started to show up in government arguments for a war with Iraq, Wilson published an op-Â�ed in the New York Times, entitled ‘What I didn’t find in Africa’. Plame’s identity was revealed, allegedly as an act of Â�retribution against Wilson, by Vice President Cheney’s chief of staff Lewis ‘Scooter’ Libby. Libby was convicted in federal court for his role in outing Plame (US v. Libby 2005). Other senior figures of the Bush team were also implicated: Senior Adviser to the President Karl Rove, Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage, and the vice president himself. The affair exacerbated the conflict between the intelligence community and the administration. That conflict had simmered ever since Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney returned to posts in the federal government with the election of George W. Bush. They were both critics of the US intelligence community in general and of the CIA in particular. Rumsfeld had, during his first stint as Secretary of Defense 1975–1976, a poisonous fight with the CIA over budgets and had stated that the CIA was spying on him. Ironically, the director of central intelligence at that time was George H.W. Bush (Garthoff 2005: 113–116). The distrust from Â�important principals was well known in the intelligence community and there was a sense of desperation in the CIA as the mission became more complex, and publically demanding, but the intelligence resources had already been eroded (Woodward 2008: 137). If the administration had realized that the intelligence on Iraqi WMD was phony, they would not have stressed this aspect of their causes for war as strongly. They would likely have prepared for a post-Â�invasion debate and argued the poor human rights record of Saddam Hussein more strongly, for example. In Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 167 a way, the leadership had duped themselves into believing information that was the product of doctored intelligence from suspicious sources. This manipulation, in turn, was a product of their own single-Â�mindedness in dealing with the Iraq problem and the way they directed federal agencies to implement their view of that problem. The US modus The active communication of flawed intelligence came from several government units and was originally a product of poor sources on Iraq combined with rapidly growing political pressure after 9/11. The reliance on defectors in search of asylum, protection, and cash, was never a solid basis for estimating the capabilities of Saddam’s regime. Furthermore, the political urge to build a case for action crowded out concerns over the legitimacy of a war in the longer run. The intelligence community became increasingly aware that the Iraq policy was in relentless motion, and the constant worry of the intelligence leadership was of not being onboard, of not being useful to the administration when it was summoned. The results were errors of judgement in at least three stages of the intelligence cycle: the intelligence-Â�gathering was sloppy and did not meet professional requirements, the communication of the resulting analysis was overÂ�confident and lopsided, and the reaction of the principals was not one of sound skepticism but of impatient calls for tougher conclusions, the return of lost nuggets from previous briefings, and erring on the side of recklessness (US Senate 2004; Weiner 2007). The US administration over-Â�emphasized internal values domestically and internationally (how to sell the war, rather than establish a cause for war that would hold up across time). It clearly selected information that confirmed and premiered pre-Â�existing beliefs over anomalies and the multiple sources that argued that the Baghdad regime was in general compliance with international treaties. The US administration was overconfident that the intelligence community had reliable information; and leading administration officials have repeatedly and honestly testified that the war on terror gave Iraqi WMD a new sense of urgency and made a qualitative difference in the decision-Â�making process (Halverscheid and Witte 2008). The pre-Â�existing belief that Saddam was toying with the international community, that he was still pursuing WMD capabilities, carefully concealed those efforts, and was willing to deploy them against his enemies, was so strong that it tended to marginalize evidence to the contrary. Opponents of forceful action against Iraq would concede as much in the long debates that preceded the war, and the issue of the smoking gun would become increasingly academic to the proponents of such action. Even the cautious head of the United Nations Special Commission (UNSCOM) at the time, Hans Blix, talked about the Iraqi behaviour in this way, although arguing that there was no detection of the proverbial smoking gun (Blix 2004: 151). Cheney, Rice and others in the Bush administration would answer that the ‘smoking gun might be a mushroom cloud’ (Blitzer 2003). 168â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander In addition, there was a strong conviction in the top circles of the Bush administration that being successful is being right, and that as long as regime change would be swift, comprehensive and stabilizing to the region, the international and domestic criticism would be mild. The UK In Britain, the Iraq policy was strongly linked to that of the US, and the intelligence process followed a similar trajectory. The intelligence cooperation between the two states is far-Â�reaching, and British intelligence agencies have become growingly dependent on the larger resources and longer reach of their American colleagues. Nevertheless, British intelligence has some comparative advantages in their remaining ties with their former colonies and other (commercial) spheres of interest around the globe that US organizations sometimes have a hard time penetrating. If the Valerie Plame controversy was a defining incident for the relationship between the intelligence community and the political leadership in the US, the leaked identity and suicide of WMD expert Dr David Kelly in July of 2003, was the British equivalent. The Kelly affair cut right to the heart of the Blair government’s handling of dissenting voices in the civil service and in the media regarding the war. The controversy started with BBC radio reporter Andrew Gilligan claiming on national radio that Downing Street had doctored intelligence reports to strengthen the case for war against Iraq and that the government knew that the 45-minute claim was false when they stated it. Blair’s team immediately went on the offensive and took action against the BBC, forcing a showdown that shook the public service broadcaster to its foundations. The Ministry of Defence (MoD) released a statement on the unauthorized sharing of information to Gilligan that was phrased in a way that made it possible to guess Kelly’s identity. When confronted with Kelly’s name, the MoD confirmed it, and Dr Kelly was thrown into the public eye. In June he appeared before two parliamentary committees, one of them public and televised. Kelly was interrogated quite harshly and his employer informed him that he might be subjected to legal action. On the afternoon of 17 July, Kelly left his home to take a walk, during which he committed suicide (Hutton 2004). Kelly’s suicide brought to light the aggressive communication tactics of Blair’s Downing Street operations. In order to contain public outrage, Lord Hutton was appointed to lead a judicial inquiry into the death of government employee Kelly and the events that had preceded it. When Lord Hutton released his report in 2004, he basically exonerated the government from driving Dr Kelly to suicide, but in the testimonies that had been delivered, several troubling issues had surfaced. For the prime minister himself it was damaging that his former Permanent Secretary, Sir Kevin Tebitt, had pointed to Blair as chairing the meeting that was instrumental in the strategy of naming Dr Kelly (Hutton 2003b). Blair had denied this in the media, but was let off conspicuously easily when he appeared before the Hutton inquiry (Hutton 2003a). The immediate Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 169 victim of this controversy was Alastair Campbell, Blair’s belligerent communications director who had been such a central figure in the conflict with the BBC, and in the preparation of evidence of an Iraqi breach of UN resolution 1441. The 45-minute claim had been the account of a single source. According to the chairman of the Joint Information Committee, John Scarlett: ‘This was a report from a single source. It was an established and reliable line of reporting; and it was quoting a senior Iraqi military officer in a position to know this Â�information’ (Hutton 2003c). According to senior intelligence officials, this disputed fragment had remained in the intelligence flow because of its significance for potential military action against Iraq. If such action was to take place, the deployment time for WMDs was of the utmost importance and any piece of intelligence that could shed light on strategies for conflict initiation was of some value. In fact, there seems to have been a slow merger going on between a classified assessment of Iraq’s WMD capacities and the infamous public dossier that was being prepared for the prime minister to state his case against Iraq. The classified text talked about deployment times for biological weapons by Iraq’s army in terms of 20–45 minutes (ibid.). These assessments were based on scenarios with input variables that were speculative at best for the purpose of preparing the British military for an invasion. The JIC team that was in charge of preparing the intelligence matter of the dossier was called to Alastair Campbell’s office at 10 Downing Street on several occasions to discuss presentation. The dossier for the use of the prime minister was to have a foreword that used a looser and more suggestive language than the intelligence-Â�based text body. The body of the report, however, recounted testimonies by individual Iraqi citizens in order to strengthen the argument that Saddam Hussein was a cruel dictator who needed to be deposed. The communications staff had, through this arrangement, a reason to get involved in the drafting process, and to give advice. In an odd passage of Alastair Campbell’s published diary, Manchester United Manager Alex Ferguson said Campbell was: ‘really worried about Iraq, said he thought it was a very dangerous situation for [Blair]. I said that TB had a real sense of certainty about this one’ (Campbell 2007: 639). The influence by the prime minister’s staff on the process of crafting the dossier increased exponentially as the moment of presentation drew closer. Blair’s own position was set with the decision to join forces with the US. His foreign policy adviser, Sir Stephen Wall recalls: ‘He didn’t ask a lot of crucial questions about the extent of Saddam’s nuclear capacity, for example. Partly because he didn’t want to ask the questions’ (Rawnsley 2010: 115). But the real problem at the Cabinet level was the lack of high-Â�level quality control. The MoD and the Foreign Office were excluded from the work on the dossier, and Defence Secretary Geoff Hoon first laid eyes on the full document hours before its presentation. The other Cabinet members were sent to see Head of MI6 Dearlove and JIC Chairman Scarlett one by one, and were presented with evidence that ‘there was nothing speculative about’ according to Culture Secretary Tessa Jowell (quoted in Rawnsley 2010: 115). 170â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander In Blair’s own account of his thought process leading to the conclusion that an invasion was called for, there is a strong emphasis on Saddam’s track record of defying sanctions and engaging in human rights abuse. This underscores the idea that the possession of WMDs was not the primary reason for the decision on either side of the Atlantic (Blair 2010: 383–387). At the political level, for which the integrity and credibility of the intelligence community was not the overriding concern, the behaviour and the duplicity of the Iraqi regime was evidence enough of the ambition to retain and develop WMD capabilities. However, there is strong evidence to suggest that the idea that Saddam possessed WMDs was intimately linked to the image of Saddam Hussein as a highly motivated and politically reckless leader. There was nothing in the behaviour of the Iraqi regime that suggested he had forfeited the WMD option after the Gulf war, and his consistent uncooperative behaviour towards the UN weapons inspectors was considered further proof that this was an option he was still pursuing. As mentioned earlier, the US administration embedded the smoking gun debate in the Saddam Hussein as reckless villain narrative, and many accounts reflecting a similar attitude can be found among the UK leadership. Finally, we need to address the fact that the two cases in this study are closely linked, and that they in a sense contaminate or spill over to one another. When studying the meetings between the leaders and their senior advisers, it is clear that there is a mutually reinforcing air of moral certainty, not only about the correct strategy to deal with Iraq, but also about the existence of Iraqi WMDs. According to a declassified diplomatic telegram that was sent from the British embassy to the Foreign Office, the following was said between Bush and Blair in their 5–7 April meeting in Crawford, Texas: ‘They agreed that Iraq’s WMD programs were a major threat to the international community, particularly when coupled with Saddam’s proven track record on using these weapons. Letting that program continue unhindered was not an option’ (Iraq Inquiry 2002). The bolstering of one another’s attitudes on Iraq and WMDs was an ongoing process between Bush and Blair, causing British senior advisers great worry. Foreign Secretary Jack Straw wrote Blair a letter days before Blair left for the Crawford meeting with Bush: ‘[t]he rewards from your visit to Crawford will be few’; he urged Blair ‘to beware of elephant traps’, stating that ‘regime change per se is no justification for military action’ (Straw quoted in Rawnsley 2010: 93). US officials, too, pressured Blair to hold back the seemingly relentless movement towards war that had originated in Washington. Colin Powell had long conversations with Jack Straw to devise a strategy to get their leaders to tone down their war rhetoric, and appealed personally to Blair to be firm with Bush, especially concerning a second UNSC resolution in 2002. Blair would express his concerns, but he would never lie down on the railroad tracks. Jack and I would get him all pumped up about an issue. And he’d be ready to say ‘Look here, George.’ But as soon as he saw the President he would lose all his steam. (Powell, quoted in Rawnsley 2010: 104; see Schaefer and Walker 2006) Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 171 The two cases are thus intimately intertwined and the initiation of the Iraq war, and the intelligence failure that preceded it, constitutes a unique case of personal interactions between national leaders, not only on strategy, but also on the world views that informed their respective foreign policies. One overriding theme of these encounters was the nature of the war on terror and that they both saw themselves as the leaders of this war. Blair, who prided himself on having understood and successfully mitigated the complex and sectarian conflict in Northern Ireland, assumed a natural authority on the subject (Seldon 2007: 535–541). But when it came to global terrorism, represented by Al Qaeda, he saw the problem as having deeper roots and requiring violent action in a way that had not been the cure for Northern Ireland. ‘Back in the instant following the cataclysmic act of terrorism that stunned, shocked and appalled the world, the issue was clear: the madmen had declared war. They would be rooted out and eliminated’ (Blair 2010: 349). The connection between 9/11 and Iraq was made in similar terms: [t]he issue of Saddam and his ten-Â�year obstruction of weapons inspection was not upfront, but from then on, it was there in the background. There was no decision at that point as to how to deal with him; nevertheless, that he had to be confronted, brought into line or removed was, on any deeper analysis, fairly obvious. (ibid.: 357) The world views of the two leaders were highly compatible, and the main difference seems to have been the means by which to further the end of regime change in Iraq: unilateral action or multilateral? Blair’s appeals for Bush to be more patient with the UN Security Council process ultimately fell on deaf ears, and Bush entered the Iraq war a believer in regime change as the one remaining option. The only way forward in justifying this course of action was to argue material breach of UNSC 1441, and Blair, more than Bush, needed the intelligence to prove it. The UK modus The British case is different from the American, in the sense that the UK intelligence apparatus never over-Â�estimated their own intelligence capacity regarding Iraq nor, for any longer time spans, that of the US or other services. The JIC process that produced the public Iraq dossier failed primarily because of political pressure. Blair’s own involvement was not motivated by a will to consciously distort intelligence, but his strong conviction on the facts and the way forward made his close advisers realize that in order to keep up with his thinking, and to protect him from future political fallout, they needed to influence the process in terms of presentation to the general public. This is the reaction of party officials in an environment that is threatening to be politically disastrous and to wipe out political support for their boss. 172â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander The result of this strong emphasis on presentation was the deterioration of responsibility and quality control, and ultimately a break-Â�down in political-Â� administrative relations, as political appointees ended up influencing what was generally perceived as intelligence material. The long debates about the doctoring of intelligence and the integrity of the JIC cannot significantly alter this general finding. One reason for the ethical failure was the erased boundaries between the public dossier and the material prepared for operational planning. This suggests a strong top-Â�down pressure to conform to the official line and deselect anything that would contradict it. There is little to suggest that this was part of a declared strategy, but rather that the interpretation of the preferred process hardened as it descended from the prime minister down the ranks of the British government. Conclusions The two cases of this study are different in a number of core aspects. The UK security apparatus was subject to a much more temporary break-Â�down as the combined impact of political pressures caused a short circuiting of its quality control mechanisms and its separations of products aimed at evidence collection and those aimed at tactical intelligence. The US system on the contrary was suffering from a longstanding lack of trust between representatives of major institutions for foreign policy making. It is a fact that the outcome of these two national processes was similar, but we would need further evidence (over a longer time period) to fully substantiate this claim. The specific breakdown of the British system is one of political-Â�bureaucratic relations, and it only occurred in a combination of extreme uncertainty, scarcity of validated information, and great political momentum. This suggests a scenario that is pre-Â�determined in the sense that there are too many converging policy incentives for the system to absorb, thus forcing a disintegration of the analytical process. In fact, British intelligence organizations had avoided several potential ‘traps’ by discrediting a number of sources early on, only to have them seep back into the process as pressure mounted in 2003. The other greatly influential factor in explaining the British outcome was the influence of the American intelligence services and the cooperation between the two states’ leaders. MI6 and the JIC operated in an environment that slowly, but surely, converged around cherry-Â�picking from the highly dubious stories of defected Iraqis. We should not overstate their attempts to discredit this information, but a central vehicle for doing so would have been political support. As Jack Straw lost Tony Blair’s ear and was marginalized in the Cabinet, and Colin Powell seemed to drop his objections and jump aboard his administration’s push for war, that avenue was closed. The US case seems much more deep-Â�seated and systemic in the origins of its failure to legitimize its actions. The intelligence community was operating under a credibility deficit with the administration that forced them to deviate from professional standards on a number of occasions and to report findings it knew to be Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 173 false. The idea of actionable intelligence and the notion of the usefulness of the intelligence agencies had acquired a political dimension that was impossible to ignore. George Tenet’s personal position as a survivor from the Clinton administration, and the elevation of his office following 9/11, seemed to further reinforce the need to capitalize on the proximity to power and turn it into political legitimacy. The in-Â�fighting in the Bush foreign policy team was detrimental to critical debate. Powell was shut out of important processes regarding the Iraq policy and war planning, and the mentality that produced the Valerie Plame incident illustrated a perception of the administration as being under siege by appeasers and containment advocates. Bush wrote in his autobiography about his phone call to Bush Sr. after reading the op-Â�ed article of his father’s former security adviser, Brent Scowcroft, in the Wall Street Journal, entitled ‘Don’t attack Saddam’ (Scowcroft 2002): ‘â•› “Son, Brent is a friend,” he assured me. That might be true. But I knew critics would later exploit Brent’s article if the diplomatic track failed’ (Bush 2010: 297). The ideological challenge that was the focus for both these governments was one of standing up to a tyrant vs. international legal requirements of the causes for war. The first dimension remained more important and would in the main actors’ own minds legitimize the gentle fabrication of the second. Besides, Â�‘everybody knew’ that Saddam had WMD programmes; only the weakness of the inspection regime prevented evidence from being on the table. Also, both governments considered the breach of UNSC resolution 1441 as the foundation for the cause for war, and a second resolution based on findings of Baghdad’s material breach of UNSC resolution 1441 was to shore up international support. To this day, the main representatives of both governments argue that UNSC resolution 1441 was enough to justify an intervention (Bush 2010; Blair 2010). The failure of the intelligence system in this view is secondary, and coupled with the laurels of victory theory that success breeds legitimacy, presentation of evidence was allowed to take precedence over actually proving the case. The false WMD claim came to be a white lie rather than a blatant lie in these deliberations, and the ethical deficiency in the formal causes for war was, in the eyes of the US and UK governments, amply justified by the secondary legal arguments regarding human rights abuses, previous aggression and poor compliance with existing resolutions. The weakness, however, of this position is manifested when the long-Â�term effects materialize. It is hard for the former leaders to justify their previous statements in the absence of WMD discoveries and the ability to sustain a policy in line with the principles stated at the outset of the campaign is greatly weakened. Both Bush and Blair in their autobiographies, published two months apart in 2010, blame the intelligence services for overstating their case (Bush 2010; Blair 2010). As we have seen, that is a highly dubious approach, and it would serve future governments much better to take a long hard look at how the political level interacts with these agencies, and which pitfalls and quagmires lurk when the relationship is compromised. 174â•‡â•‡ F. Bynander References Berkowitz, Bruce (2003). Failing to keep up with the information revolution: The DI and ‘IT’. Studies in Intelligence (unclassified version), 47(1). Blair, Tony (2010). A journey. London: Hutchinson. Blitzer, Wolf (2003). Search for the ‘smoking gun’. CNN. Retrieved from http://articles. cnn.com/2003–01–10/us/wbr.smoking.gun_1_smoking-Â�gun-nuclear-Â�weaponshans-Â�blix?_s=PM:US. Blix, Hans (2004). Disarming Iraq. New York: Pantheon Books. Bush, George W. (2010). Decision points. New York: Crown Publishing. Campbell, Alastair (2007). The Blair years. London: Hutchinson. Ferejohn, Michael. T. (1991). The origins of Aristotelian science. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Garthoff, Douglas F. (2005). Directors of Central Intelligence as leaders of the U.S. Â�intelligence community, 1946–2005. Washington, DC: CIA Center for the Study of Intelligence. Goldstein, Judith and Keohane, Robert, O. (1996) Ideas and foreign policy: Beliefs, institutions, and political change. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Halverscheid, Susanne and Witte, Erich H. (2008). Justification of war and terrorism: A comparative case study analyzing ethical positions based on prescriptive attribution theory. Social Psychology, 39(1), 26–36. Lord Hutton (2004). Report of the inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the death of Dr David Kelly C.M.G. London: House of Commons. Hutton Inquiry (2003a). Testimony of Mr Anthony Charles Lynton Blair (Called). Retrieved from www.hutton.softblade.com/transcripts.php?action=transcript&session= 22&witness=35#wit35. Hutton Inquiry (2003b). Testimony of Sir Kevin Reginald Tebitt (Called). Retrieved from www.hutton.softblade.com/transcripts.php?action=transcript&session=14&witness=16 #wit16. Hutton Inquiry (2003c). Testimony of Mr John McLeod Scarlett (Called). Retrieved from www.hutton.softblade.com/transcripts.php?action=transcript&session=18&witness=29 #wit29. Iraq Inquiry (2002). 5–7 April 2002 – Diplomatic telegram about meeting between Prime Minister Blair and President Bush. Unclassified. Retrieved from www.iraqinquiry.org. uk/transcripts/declassified-Â�documents.aspx. Kay, David (2004). Weapons of Mass Destruction: Lessons learned and unlearned. Miller Center Report, 20(1), 3–52. Rawnsley, Andrew (2010). The end of the party: The rise and fall of New Labour. London: Viking. Schaefer, Mark and Walker, Stephen (2006). Democratic leaders and the democratic peace: The operational codes of Tony Blair and Bill Clinton. International Studies Quarterly, 50(4), 561–583. Scowcroft, Brent (2002). Don’t attack Saddam. Wall Street Journal, 15 August, p.Â€4. Seldon, Anthony (2007). Blair unbound. London: Simon & Schuster. Shapiro, Ian (2005). The flight from reality in the human sciences. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. UNSCOM (1995). Notes on a meeting between Hussein Kamal and UNSCOM and IAEA. Amman, Jordan, 22 August. Retrieved from www.un.org/Depts/unmovic/new/ documents/hk.pdf. Ideas in foreign policy decision makingâ•‡â•‡ 175 United States of America v. I. Lewis Libby (2005). Indictment. United States District Court for the District of Columbia, 28 October 28. US Senate (2004). Report on the U.S. intelligence community’s prewar intelligence assessments on Iraq. Report. Washington, DC: Select Committee on Intelligence. Weiner, Tim (2007). Legacy of ashes: The history of the CIA. New York: Anchor Books. Woodward, Bob (2006). State of denial. London: Simon & Schuster. Woodward, Bob (2008). The war within. London: Simon & Schuster. 14 Foreign policy analysis and the governance turn Thomas Risse Throughout his academic career, Walter Carlsnaes has been among the strongest promoters of comparative foreign policy analysis, not as a separate subdiscipline of International Relations, but linked to international relations theories in general (see, for example, Carlsnaes 1986, 2002, 2004, 2012; Carlsnaes and Smith 1994; Carlsnaes et al. 2004). In particular, his contributions to the agency–structure debate have been significant and very influential in the discipline (Carlsnaes 1992). This chapter introduces the governance perspective into the study of comparative foreign policy thereby engaging in a discussion with Walter Carlsnaes’ work. I argue that the governance turn in international relations, while not ignoring the state and state foreign policy, broadens the perspective of foreign policy analysis by overcoming a state-Â�centric focus. Since governance encompasses actor, process, and structure dimensions, it also takes the mutual constitutiveness of agency and structure seriously and is fully compatible with it. This chapter starts with a short description of the ‘governance turn’ in international relations and then discusses the consequences for foreign policy analysis. (Global) governance and the study of international relations There is quite some confusion in the debate over global and/or transnational governance that needs to be clarified before one can discuss its repercussions for democracy and legitimacy.1 ‘Global governance’ in particular is often used simultaneously as an analytical concept and a normative prescription for how global problems should be handled (on the latter see World Commission on Environment and Development 1987). But even as an analytical concept, the term ‘governance’ has become such a catchword in the social sciences that it connotes a whole variety of things (Pierre and Peters 2000; Kooiman 1993). In the broadest possible definition, ‘governance’ relates to any form of creating or maintaining political order and providing common goods for a given political community on whatever level (Williamson 1975). A more narrow view has been promoted by international relations scholars, such as James N. Rosenau and Ernst-Â�Otto Czempiel (Czempiel and Rosenau 1992). Accordingly, ‘governance without government’ refers to political arrangements which rely primarily on non-Â�hierarchical forms of steering (see the excellent reviews by Mayntz 1998, Foreign policy analysis and the governance turnâ•‡â•‡ 177 2002). In other words, governance beyond the nation-Â�state means creating political order in the absence of a state with a legitimate monopoly over the use of force and the capacity to authoritatively enforce the law and other rules. Of course, there is no state or world government in the global realm, even though the United Nations Security Council has limited authority to impose world order and peace. To the extent that the international system contains rule structures and institutional settings, it constitutes ‘governance without government’ by definition. But why do we need to use the language of ‘governance’, if we can talk about international institutions, such as International Organizations (IOs) or international regimes? While IOs are inter-Â�state institutions ‘with a street address’, international regimes are defined as international institutions based on explicit principles, norms, and rules, that is, international legal arrangements agreed upon by national governments (Keohane 1989). The nuclear non-Â�proliferation regime, the world trade order, the regime to prevent global climate change or the various human rights treaties all constitute international regimes, i.e. form part of global ‘governance without government’. These regimes have in common that they are based on voluntary agreements by states and that there is no supreme authority in the international system capable of enforcing these rules. Hence the elaborate schemes to monitor and verify compliance with the rules and regulations of international regimes! There is one emerging realm of international institution which is not covered by the language of international inter-Â�state regimes or organizations as commonly used in the international relations literature. The Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Number (ICANN) regulates the internet, but is a non-Â� governmental institution. Private rating agencies claim authoritative, consensual and therefore legitimate knowledge about the credit-Â�worthiness of companies and states and, thus, play an enormous role in international financial markets, as the Euro crisis demonstrates. The UN Global Compact consists of firms voluntarily agreeing to comply with international human rights and environmental norms. Thus, we observe the emergence of governance structures in international life which are based on private authority, private regimes, or some mix of public and private actors (see Hall and Biersteker 2002; Cutler et al. 1999; Haufler 1993; Reinicke 1998; Reinicke and Deng 2000). In particular, there seems to be an increasing number of ‘public private partnerships’ (PPPs) in international life, some of which are concerned with international rule-Â�setting. Other PPPs – the Global Compact, for example – focus on rule implementation or service provision (Rosenau 2000; Börzel and Risse 2005; Schäferhoff et al. 2009). ‘Transnational governance’ refers to those governance arrangements beyond the nation-Â�state in which private actors are systematically involved.2 Moreover, we should clearly distinguish between lobbying or influence-Â�seeking activities of private actors – firms and non-Â�governmental organizations ([I]NGOs) – on the one hand, and their direct involvement in rule-Â�setting, rule implementation and service providing activities, on the other. Only if and when non-Â�state actors have a say in the decision-Â�making bodies of global governance, should we speak of ‘transnational governance’. 178â•‡â•‡ T. Risse Transnational governance as ‘new modes of governance’ is ‘distinct from the hierarchical control model characterizing the interventionist state. Governance is the type of regulation typical of the cooperative state, where state and non-Â�state actors participate in mixed public/private policy networks’ (Mayntz 2002: 21). Thus, ‘new modes of global governance’ refers to those institutional arrangements beyond the nation-Â�state that are characterized by two features (see Table 14.1): • • the inclusion of non-Â�state actors, such as firms, private interest groups, or non-Â�governmental organizations (NGOs) in governance arrangements (actor dimension); an emphasis on non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering (steering modes). Most of the literature on ‘new modes of governance’3 is concerned with the actor dimension and, thus, with the inclusion of private actors in global governance. But we must also look at the steering modes. Modes of political steering concern both rule-Â�setting and rule-Â�implementation processes including ensuring compliance with international norms. Hierarchical steering refers to classic statehood in the Weberian or Eastonian sense (politics as the ‘authoritative allocation of values for a given society’; see Easton 1965) and connotes the ultimate ability of states to enforce the law through sanctions and the threat of force, if need be (Weber 1921/1980: 29). Hierarchical steering is notably absent in the international system except, for example, in supranational organizations such as the European Union (EU) where European law constitutes the ‘law of the land’ and, thus, some elements of hierarchy are present. However, no modern state relies solely on coercion and hierarchy to enforce the law. The main difference between modern states and global governance is not that non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering do not exist in the former. The main difference is that global governance – whether through inter-Â�state regimes or PPPs – has to rely solely on non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering in the absence of a world government. As to these non-Â�hierarchical modes, we can further distinguish between two forms which rely on different modes of social action and social control. First, non-Â�hierarchical steering can use positive incentives and negative sanctions to entice actors into compliance with norms and rules. The point is to use incentives and sanctions to manipulate the cost-Â�benefit calculations of actors so as to convince them that rule compliance is in their best interest. As to rule-Â�setting, ‘bargaining’ during which self-Â�interested actors try to hammer out agreements of give-Â�and-take based on fixed identities and interests has to be mentioned here, too. This mode of steering essentially follows a logic of instrumental rationality as theorized by rational choice. Actors are seen as egoistic utility maximizers or optimizers who agree to rules, because they are in their own interests. Voluntary compliance follows from self-Â�interested behaviour in this case. A second type of non-Â�hierarchical steering focuses on increasing the moral legitimacy of the rules and norms in question. The idea is that actors will comply •â•‡ traditional nation-state; •â•‡supranational institutions (EU, partly WTO) •â•‡ international regimes •â•‡ international organizations Hierarchical: Top-down; (threat of) sanctions Non-hierarchical: Positive incentives; bargaining; non-manipulative persuasion (learning, arguing, etc.) Note: Shaded area = ‘new’ modes of governance. Public actors only Actors involved steering modes Table 14.1â•‡ The realm of governance Private actors only •â•‡ corporatism •â•‡public–private networks and partnerships •â•‡ bench-marking •â•‡private interest government/ private regimes •â•‡private–private partnerships (NGOs–companies) •â•‡Contracting out and out-Sourcing •â•‡ corporate hierarchies of public functions to private actors Public and private actors 180â•‡â•‡ T. Risse voluntarily with norms and rules, the more they are convinced of the legitimacy of the rule (see Hurd 1999). The legitimacy of a rule can result from beliefs in the moral validity of the norm itself, but it can also result from beliefs in the validity of the procedure by which the rule had been worked out. Voluntary rule compliance is based on the acceptance of a particular logic of appropriateness (March and Olsen 1989, 1998). But how do actors come to accept a new logic of appropriateness? They acquire the social knowledge to function appropriately in a given society or they start believing in the moral validity of the norms and rules in question. In either case, the micro-Â�mechanism underlying this type of social steering involves learning and persuasion based on arguing. Arguing implies that actors try to challenge the validity claims inherent in any causal or normative statement and to seek a communicative consensus about their understanding of a situation as well as justifications for the principles and norms guiding their action. Argumentative rationality also means that the participants in a discourse are open to be persuaded by the better argument and that relationships of power and social hierarchies recede into the background (Habermas 1981; Risse 2000). Argumentative and deliberative behaviour is as goal-Â� oriented as strategic interactions but the goal is not to attain one’s fixed preferences, but to seek a reasoned consensus. Actors’ interests, preferences and the perceptions of the situation are no longer fixed, but subject to discursive challenges. Where argumentative rationality prevails, actors do not seek to maximize or to satisfy their given interests and preferences, but to challenge and to justify the validity claims inherent in them – and are prepared to change their views of the world or even their interests in light of the better argument. In other words, argumentative and discursive processes challenge the truth claims which are inherent in identities, interests, and norms. To summarize the analysis so far, ‘global governance’ refers to international regimes and international (inter-Â�state) organizations, on the one hand, and to transnational arrangements, on the other, which involve non-Â�state actors directly in rule-Â�setting, -implementation and service provision. Both inter-Â�state and public–private governance beyond the nation-Â�state must rely on non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering, be it via incentives and sanctions or be it via learning and persuasion. What does the governance perspective add to foreign policy analysis – and vice versa? For quite some time, foreign policy analysis used to be a sideshow in the study of international relations. This is unfortunate, since the analysis of states’ external affairs adds a decidedly agency-Â�oriented perspective to the international relations discipline (Carlsnaes 2002) which used to suffer from overly structural approaches, be it from a neo-Â�realist (Waltz 1979), Marxist (Wallerstein 1974, 1980, 1989) or social constructivist standpoint (Wendt 1999). In fact, the governance perspective – I would not use the term ‘theory’ here – has often been overly structural, too. Some works on global governance or on the rise of private Foreign policy analysis and the governance turnâ•‡â•‡ 181 authority in international life have been suspiciously actor-Â�free (e.g. Hall and Biersteker 2002; Held and McGrew 2002; for a critical perspective, see Lederer and Müller 2005). Only recently have scholars started asking ‘who governs the globe?’ (Avant et al. 2010). This is where foreign policy analysis and the governance perspective meet. Foreign policy analysis tries to explain the external affairs of particular agents in international life, namely, states. Governance focuses on the various modes of steering by which actors – whether state or non-Â�state – try to contribute to the political regulation of social affairs or to provide common goods. Yet, foreign policy analysis has been overly state-Â�centric. When we think ‘foreign policy’, we mostly conceptualize relations among sovereign states. Interestingly enough, Walter Carlsnaes’ own definition of foreign policy already contains an opening toward transnationalism: foreign policies consist of those actions which, expressed in the form of explicitly stated goals, commitments and/or directives, and pursued by governmental representatives acting on behalf of their sovereign communities, are directed toward objectives, conditions, and actors – both governmental and non-Â�governmental – which they want to affect and which lie beyond their territorial legitimacy. (Carlsnaes 2002: 335; see also Carlsnaes 1986, Ch. 2; 2013) This definition already encompasses transnational relations as defined by Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye (see above, fn.Â€ 2) insofar as state actors can direct their foreign policy decisions and actions toward non-Â�governmental entities. State X offering multinational corporation Z some favourable investment conditions would still be foreign policy. Moreover, Carlsnaes’ conceptualization implies intentional action and directedness – irrespective of whether the foreign policies of a state might have some unintended consequences. At least implicitly, the definition also encompasses non-Â�hierarchial modes of social Â�coordination as most states pursue their foreign policies through negotiations, bargaining or arguing without interfering in another state’s territorial control and authority (‘Westphalian sovereignty’ in Stephen Krasner’s terms; see Krasner 1999). In short, non-Â�hierarchical actions directed at other states as well as transnational relations between states and non-Â�state actors are the subject matter of foreign policy, too. However, Walter Carlsnaes still confines foreign policy analysis to the study of state behaviour, whether directed at state or non-Â�state actors. But why not extend the use of the tools of foreign policy analysis to the external affairs of multinational corporations or of globally operating non-Â�governmental organizations (INGOs)? For example, most multinational corporations have instituted their own external affairs departments by now to deal with the policy world as well as with stakeholders around the world. In this sense, Daimler, General Motors or BP all conduct their own foreign policies. Why not compare them with the external affairs of states? 182â•‡â•‡ T. Risse This is where the governance turn has something to contribute to foreign policy studies. Work on the ‘new’ modes of governance encompassing non-Â�state actors and non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering is still interested in politics and policies and, thus, in the regulation of social affairs. Market behaviour by private actors is not subject to governance research, even though the externalities (positive and negative) of market activities are. From a governance perspective, one would examine the contributions of actors – whether state or non-Â�state – to the regulation of global affairs and would not confine foreign policy analysis to states. Of course, the main objection to this attempt to blur the boundaries between state and non-Â�state actors is that Daimler and ExxonMobil – despite all their market power – still lack one important ingredient of statehood, namely, sovereignty. INGOs such as Amnesty International or Greenpeace might affect global governance and might contribute to international norm creation and implementation. And they are increasingly co-Â�governing international affairs (Hall and Biersteker 2002; see also Risse 2013). But they are not sovereign states, of course. The objection is correct to the extent that non-Â�state actors lack international sovereignty and the legitimacy which international recognition confers upon states. At the same time, however, other ingredients of national sovereignty are more fiction than fact in the contemporary international system. For example, even the most society-Â�centric work on transnational actors still takes consolidated statehood for granted with full domestic sovereignty as the ability to implement and enforce central decisions and the monopoly over the means of violence (Krasner 1999). We might be puzzled by the rise of ‘private authority’ in international affairs, but we assume that nation-Â�states fully enjoy the ability to rule hierarchically within their domestic system. What, however, if ‘limited statehood’ in terms of constraints on the state’s ability to exert domestic sovereignty constitutes the rule rather than the exception in the contemporary global system (see Risse 2011)? Fragile, failing and failed states are only the tip of the iceberg with regard to such ‘limited statehood’. In this case, the distinction between state actors and non-Â�state actors in terms of the (in-)ability to steer hierarchically starts blurring. Moreover, we might face situations in which state actors act like private actors in the sense of not encountering institutional constraints on self-Â�interested and egoistic behaviour, while so-Â�called private actors contribute to the public good. This calls for a research agenda in which the usual distinctions of Western modernity according to which ‘the state’ equals ‘the public’ and non-Â�state actors equal the private domain no longer make sense. Rather, we would have to look for the governance contributions of either actors irrespective of whether they occupy governmental positions or not. These considerations challenge conventional foreign policy analysis as mostly confined to the external affairs of sovereign states. Here, the governance perspective might serve as an eye-Â�opener in at least two ways: first, it opens up the research agenda toward studying the external affairs of non-Â�state actors and comparing them to the foreign policies of states. Second, its emphasis on hierarchical as well as non-Â�hierarchical modes of steering offers important distinctions among various modes of social action and interaction which foreign policy analysis might find useful. This is particularly relevant, since foreign policy Foreign policy analysis and the governance turnâ•‡â•‡ 183 action as defined by Walter Carlsnaes is predominantly non-Â�hierarchical, because most states in the international system – not even to mention non-Â�state actors – do not have coercive means at their disposal in external affairs. Conclusions: foreign policy analysis and the governance turn Almost fifty years ago, Ekkehart Krippendorff asked whether foreign policy is actually foreign policy (1963). He argued at the time that foreign policy action constitutes domestic politics by other means and that domestic circumstances more or less explain the foreign policies of state. While Krippendorff was a Marxist, Ernst-Â�Otto Czempiel made a similar point from a liberal perspective, namely, that one could only understand US foreign policy during the Cold War when taking the US political system and the struggle for power among the various interest groups into account (Czempiel 1979). Several decades later, there is little doubt that foreign policy analysis requires a look at domestic politics and that one has to open up the black box of the state (Carlsnaes 2013). It is less clear, however, whether a state-Â�centric perspective on foreign policy analysis (and on international relations in general) is still helpful to understand and explain contemporary world affairs in an age of globalization. Of course, states remain central actors in international relations. However, the state has got company in the meantime with regard to global governance. To ask ‘who governs’ in world affairs is to acknowledge that non-Â�state actors – whether multinational corporations or international non-Â�governmental organizations (INGOs) – are part and parcel of rule-Â�making and rule implementation in international politics (Avant et al. 2010). While transnational actors have always been significant and have influenced international relations as inter-Â�state relations, they have now become ‘global governors’ in their own right. As a result, foreign policy analysis needs to take the governance turn more seriously, if it wants to remain relevant for the study of world affairs. Notes 1 This part of the chapter builds on Risse (2004). 2 For the classic definition of transnational relations, see Keohane and Nye (1971); also see Risse (2013). 3 One should note, however, that ‘new modes’ of governance are not new at all. 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One is provided by Walter’s response when, in 1994, I told him of the strongly ethical thrust of the foreign policy that the ‘new’ South Africa was about to pursue. ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ was his sceptical response. The present chapter investigates the record of democratic South Africa’s ethical foreign policy over the past 16 years. The other marker is a question I heard Walter ask of work produced by political scientists: ‘Where is the theory?’ Here, an individualist interpretative approach to the study of foreign policy (Carlsnaes 2002: 341) will be used. Known as national role conceptions, this under-Â�utilised approach developed out of role theory which, in turn, originated in the fields of social psychology and sociology (Aggestam 1999: 11; Adigbuo 2007: 88–89). National role conceptions In a seminal article Holsti (1970: 245–246) defined national role conceptions as ‘the policymakers’ own definitions of the general kinds of decisions, commitments, rules and actions suitable to their state, and of the functions, if any, their state should perform on a continuing basis in the international system or in subordinate regional systems’. These role conceptions, Holsti suggested, explain to a large extent the foreign policy behaviour of governments (i.e. decisions and actions, or ‘national role performance’). Holsti also hypothesised that national role conceptions have both domestic and external sources. The internal origins are a complex mixture of location, capabilities, socio-Â�economic needs, national values and ideology, public opinion, political needs and the personalities of leaders. The external environment is the source of what Holsti termed ‘role prescriptions’, and includes the structure and values of the international system, general legal principles, multilateral treaties, world opinion and the expectations that other governments have of the state concerned (Holsti 1970: 243–246; Walker 1987: 243). Holsti (1970: 256–284) identified a set of 17 national role conceptions based on statements by the leaders of 71 states found in nearly 1000 different sources Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 187 during the period 1965–1967. The vast majority of these countries articulated more than one role conception, some as many as eight. Since his inquiry was conducted in the mid-Â�1960s, Holsti’s role conceptions understandably reflected the state of world politics at the time. Six were typical Cold War roles, namely, faithful ally, anti-Â�imperialist agent, defender of the faith, bastion of the revolution, regional protector and protectee. Non-Â�aligned roles were those of independent, active independent, mediator-Â�integrator, bridge and isolate. The remaining six role conceptions were regionally directed, namely, liberation supporter, regional leader, regional-Â�subsystem collaborator, developer, internal development and example (Adigbuo 2005: 60). Holsti (1970: 246–247) maintained that role theory, as he transposed it to the international context, ‘offers a framework for describing national role performance and role conceptions and for exploring the sources of those conceptions’. Several scholars have tested and indeed confirmed these claims, while others Â�developed Holsti’s typology of role conceptions and adapted it to the post-Â�Cold War international environment (Walker 1987: 241–259; Aggestam 1999: 15–18; n.d.: 3–6; Hyde-Â�Price 2000: 22–48; Hernández 2006: 3–7; Adigbuo 2007: 83–97; Adigbuo 2008: 223–245; Krotz 2010: 6–35). Drawing on Holsti’s theoretical framework, the present inquiry offers a brief case study of an ethical foreign policy. Advocates of such a policy typically reject the notion that ‘ethics cease at the water’s edge’; instead, they are committed to exporting human rights and invariably also democracy to other societies (Smith and Light 2001: 3–4). The most appropriate of Holsti’s role conceptions is the defender of the faith, presumably derived from the title fidei defensor that Pope Leo X in 1521 conferred on King Henry VIII for defending the Roman Catholic faith against the Protestant Reformation (Adigbuo 2008: 227–228). Holsti (1970: 264) portrayed the role conception as ‘defending value systems (rather than specified territories) from attack’, adding that defenders of the faith ‘presumably undertake special responsibilities to guarantee ideological purity for a group of other states’. President John F. Kennedy famously articulated this role conception in his inaugural address: ‘Let every nation know .â•›.â•›. that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and success of liberty’ (as cited in Holsti 1970: 264–265). Holsti’s conceptualisation of a defender of the faith needs a two-Â�fold revision to make it relevant to today’s world. We require not merely a reactive defence of certain values (Western liberal democracy or communism) against a grave and imminent threat (the Soviet bloc or the Western alliance), but also the active promotion abroad of values or a set of ideas without there necessarily being a specific enemy to be confronted. The notion of apostleship is proposed as an alternative designation, defined as championship or leadership in propaganda. The latter term incidentally also has religious origins: in 1622 the Catholic Church founded a congregation called Propaganda to spread Catholicism (de propaganda fide). The propaganda associated with apostleship involves ‘theÂ€ spread of opinions and principles, especially to effect change or reform’ 188â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys (Chambers Twentieth Century Dictionary 1974). The leadership role involved in apostleship should, however, extend beyond the dissemination of a message. Following Riddell-Â�Dixon’s (2005: 1067–1068) typology of leadership, we could distinguish between the task of articulating, promoting and implementing a secular gospel. Democracy and human rights are the heart of the ‘faith’. In investigating South Africa’s apostleship, all three tasks Holsti claimed for his analytical scheme will be attempted: the particular role conception will be presented in the words of the policymakers who formulated the role (articulation); the country’s accompanying role performance will be sketched in terms of the deeds of the policymakers (promotion and implementation); and the likely sources of the role conception will be identified. It involves recording what South African policymakers say, investigating why they say it, and describing what they do (or fail to do) in terms of advancing democracy and human rights. It should be borne in mind that apostleship is by no means the only national role conception that South Africa has pursued since its democratic rebirth in 1994. Using Holsti’s typology, regionally directed roles – where South Africa speaks and acts as a major power in Africa and on behalf of the continent to the wider world – are especially pertinent. South Africa’s solidarity with countries of the Global South resembles elements of Holsti’s anti-Â�imperialist agent of old, just as its ‘liberatory solidarity’ with countries that had supported the ruling African National Congress (ANC) in its struggle against apartheid bears some similarity with Holsti’s liberation supporter. At the same time South Africa regards itself as a bridge-Â�builder between North and South, again a role conception corresponding to one featured in Holsti’s framework. Articulating the faith Seven months after assuming power in 1994, the ANC issued a foreign policy blueprint which asserted that democratic South Africa will ‘canonise human rights in our international relations’ and assume a ‘central role’ in a ‘worldwide human rights campaign’ (Foreign Policy Perspective 1994: 2–4). In like vein, Foreign Minister Alfred Nzo proclaimed: ‘Human rights are the cornerstone of our government policy and we shall not hesitate to carry the message to the far corners of the world’ (Discussion Paper 1996: 16). That message, according to the ANC’s 1994 policy document, was that ‘just and lasting solutions to the problems of human kind can only come through the promotion of democracy, worldwide’. And in donning the mantle of apostleship, ‘we shall not be selective nor, indeed, be afraid to raise human rights violations with countries where our own and other interests might be negatively affected’ (Foreign Policy Perspective 1994: 2–4). Nor would South Africa be swayed by claims of cultural relativism in the sphere of human rights. ‘There cannot be one system for Africa and another for the rest of the world,’ President Nelson Mandela (1994–1999) insisted (as cited in Vickers 2003: 85). Mandela and especially his deputy Thabo Mbeki used the notion of an African renaissance as a vehicle for promoting human rights and democracy on Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 189 the continent. At a summit of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) in 1997, Mandela referred to ‘[o]ur dream of Africa’s rebirth as we enter the new millennium’. That ‘rebirth’, Mandela argued, was critically dependent on African countries committing themselves to ‘the principles of democracy, respect for human rights and the basic tenets of good governance’ (as cited in Gumede 2005: 201). For seriously errant African states, Mandela had little mercy: ‘We must all accept that we cannot abuse the concept of national sovereignty to deny the rest of the continent the right and duty to intervene when behind those sovereign boundaries, people are being slaughtered to protect tyranny’ (as cited in Landsberg 2007: 199). Apostleship remained a feature of South Africa’s foreign policy during Mbeki’s presidency (1999–2008). The first two principles underpinning its foreign policy, the Department of Foreign Affairs reaffirmed in 2003, were a commitment to the promotion of human rights and democracy (Strategic Plan 2003–2005: 11). Consider also Mbeki’s denunciation of one-Â�party rule, military governments and personal dictatorships in Africa and his assertion that governments must ‘derive their authority and legitimacy from the will of the people’ (as cited in Landsberg 2004: 162). President Mbeki was also a stout defender of the new sovereignty regime incorporated into the African Union founded in 2002: We [African leaders] should not allow the fact of the independence of each one of our countries to turn us into spectators when crimes against the people are being committed .â•›.â•›. we will have to proceed from the position that we are each our brothers and sisters keeper. (Guardian 2003) An ardent champion of an African renaissance, Mbeki regarded the establishment of democratic political systems and the protection of human rights as one of the initiative’s principal tasks (Mbeki 1999: 3–4). It should be noted that Mbeki made Africa the centrepiece of South Africa’s external relations, thereby combining regionally-Â�directed role conceptions with that of apostleship. The conflation of regional roles and apostleship has continued under President Jacob Zuma, who took office in May 2009 (after the interim presidency of Kgalema Motlanthe). Maite Nkoane-Â�Mashabane, Zuma’s Minister of International Relations and Cooperation (as the earlier portfolio of Foreign Affairs was renamed), spoke of the ‘primacy of the African continent’ in South Africa’s foreign policy, at the core of which is a ‘developmental agenda’ (Nkoane-Â� Mashabane 2009a: 1–2). The Strategic Plan, 2010–2013 of the Department of International Relations and Cooperation (DIRCO) in turn allows for ongoing apostleship by asserting that the principles underpinning South Africa’s foreign policy have remained the same since 1994. The first two are still a commitment to the promotion of human rights and democracy, respectively (Strategic Plan 2010–2013: 7). In June 2009 the Deputy Minister of International Relations and Cooperation, Ebrahim Ismail Ebrahim, assured Parliament that the Zuma 190â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys Â�government will place ‘a greater emphasis on human rights’, will focus on ‘preventing gross violations of human rights’ abroad, and that ‘[w]e intend to more robustly flex our muscles on human rights issues so that we can never be accused of betraying the ideals on which our democracy was founded’ (Ebrahim 2009: 1,4). Such unequivocal commitments to the international promotion abroad of human rights and ipso facto democracy as desirable objectives have been rare since Zuma assumed the presidency. More often than not, this ethical element has lately been expressed in the context of a developmental agenda that acknowledges the importance of good governance in Africa in particular. Consider Minister Nkoane-Â�Mashabane’s statement that South Africa’s so-Â�called African Agenda ‘is grounded in a philosophy that recognises the inseperable, triangular linkage between democracy and good governance, peace and security, and socioÂ�economic development’ (Nkoane-Â�Mashabane 2009b: 9–10). Sources of the faith South Africa’s history, especially the black majority’s denial of fundamental human rights under apartheid, has been a major domestic source of foreign policy since 1994. The Republic will spread the message of human rights across the globe, Foreign Minister Nzo promised, because ‘[w]e have suffered too much ourselves not to do so’ (Discussion Paper 1996: 16). A second and related source was that South Africans owed their victory over apartheid to support and solidarity from the rest of Africa. ‘That’, Deputy President Thabo Mbeki said in 1998, ‘imposes an obligation on us to use this gift of freedom .â•›.â•›. to advance the cause of the peoples of our continent’ (Mbeki 1998: 7). In the third place the new rulers asserted that ‘our foreign relations must mirror our deep commitment to the consolidation of a democratic South Africa’ (Foreign Policy Perspective 1994: 2–4). A fourth source is the policymakers’ belief that South Africa’s ‘miracle’ of democratisation could and indeed should serve as a role model for other societies suffering injustice and conflict (Foreign Policy Perspective 1994: 2–4). The Republic’s status as a regional power provides a fifth source of its apostleship. The end of apartheid had left South Africa’s tangible power resources largely intact. The country was still a regional power at the continental level and a superpower in the Southern African context. In addition to its economic and military strength, South Africa possessed non-Â�material resources such as exemplary political and social values, quality political leadership at home and a sound diplomatic reputation abroad (Flemes 2007: 7–18). A 1996 policy document of the Department of Foreign Affairs declared that ‘South Africa possesses the intrinsic capabilities to play the role of a middle power in global terms’ (Discussion Paper 1996: 66). Herein lies a sixth source of South Africa’s apostleship. Whereas regional powers have a geographically restricted scope, middle powers have traditionally played their roles on a global scale; consider Canada, Norway and Sweden in the Cold War era. These Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 191 Â� countries exerted a measure of influence in world politics not through the projection of military might but on the basis of soft power resources like their democratic credentials, political stability, socio-Â�economic prosperity, diplomatic skills and nuclear weapon-Â�free status (Breuning 2007: 150,182; Bischoff 2003: 183–4). Since the end of the East-Â�West divide, so-Â�called emerging middle powers from the Global South have entered the world stage. With India, Brazil and South Africa in their ranks, the new generation of middle powers are also expected to exercise moral authority in the world generally and to help keep their backyards ‘neat and orderly’ (Chase et al. 1996: 35). (All three the new middle powers incidentally qualify for the status of regional powers too.) What Holsti referred to as role prescriptions, or role expectations in Aggestam’s (1999: 12) terminology, constitute a seventh source of South Africa’s apostleship. Not only has ‘a leadership role .â•›.â•›. been imposed on South Africa’, as then Deputy Foreign Minister Aziz Pahad explained over ten years ago, but the international community entertained ‘great expectations from South Africa’s role’ (as cited in Landsberg 2004: 215). External expectations are being heeded by the Zuma government too. ‘Our country finds itself today in a position of responsibility as a member of the international community’, the Minister of International Relations and Cooperation told Parliament in April 2010. ‘We are constantly reminded .â•›.â•›. that more is expected of us. For our country, our region and continent, this is a responsibility we can neither shirk nor fail in’ (Nkoane-Â� Mashabane 2010a: 3). South Africa’s election to a second term as a non-Â� permanent member of the UN Security Council (2011–2012) will add to foreign expectations of the country’s role at the global level. A closely related eighth source is South Africa’s vaunted moral authority. In 1996 the Department of Foreign Affairs spoke glowingly of the new South Africa’s ‘unique moral legitimacy’ in the world (Department of Foreign Affairs 1996: 66). Nearly ten years later, the Department still invoked South Africa’s ‘particular moral authority’. This was said to derive from the country’s ‘principles, policies and priorities’ that ‘provide hope not only for the people of South Africa and Africa, but also for the [Global] South since they essentially provide hope for humanity as a whole’ (Department of Foreign Affairs Policy, Research and Analysis Unit 2005: 2). Finally, South Africa’s moral standing, combined with its remarkably peaceful transition from pigmentocracy to non-Â�racial democracy, its relative prosperity and stability as well as its regional-Â�cum-middle power status, have contributed to South Africa’s ‘exceptionalism’ in Africa and beyond. This status in turn equips if not entitles South Africa to take on an international leadership role. Western powers seem to share this assessment. On the eve of the EU–South Africa summit in July 2008 in Bordeaux, an EU statement referred to South Africa as ‘the main regional power in Africa. .â•›.â•›. It is one of the drivers of growth in the continent and a success story that refutes Afro-Â�pessimism’ (EU–South Africa Summit 2008). 192â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys Promoting the faith One of the main ways in which South Africa has promoted the core ideas of its apostleship – human rights and democracy – is in shaping Africa’s new institutions of continental governance. South Africa, in the person of Mbeki, was one of the leading architects of the African Union (AU). The Constitutive Act of the AU of 2000, unlike the Charter of the preceding Organisation of African Unity, lists the promotion of ‘democratic principles and institutions, popular participation and good governance’ as well as the protection of human and peoples’ rights among its 14 objectives. The AU is even authorised to intervene in a member state ‘in respect of grave circumstances, namely: war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity as well as threats to legitimate order’. At its inaugural summit in 2002, the AU adopted the Declaration on Democracy, Political, Economic and Corporate Governance, which commits member states to uphold the rule of law; the equality of all citizens before the law; individual and collective freedoms; equality of opportunity; individual participation in democratic political processes; periodic elections of leaders for fixed terms of office; the separation of powers; and good governance. The African Peer Review Mechanism, also created in 2002, is an ambitious system of partner evaluation designed to promote good governance and sustainable development in participating states. The Peace and Security Council, the AU’s standing decision-Â�making organ for the prevention, management and resolution of conflicts, enumerates the advancement of democracy, good governance, the rule of law and human rights among its objectives. Africa’s progressive system of continental governance is indeed a tribute to South Africa’s apostleship. Implementing the faith The task of implementation involves giving practical effect to policy positions, or ‘walking the talk’. One way in which South Africa has done this, is by acceding to all major international human rights instruments, including the 1948 Â�Universal Declaration of Human Rights; the twin covenants on civil and political rights, and on economic, social and cultural rights of 1966; the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination of 1966; and the 1981 African Charter of Human and People’s Rights. A keen proponent of the African Peer Review Mechanism, South Africa submitted itself to partner evaluation. Reference can also be made to South Africa’s adoption of the Implementation of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court Act 2002, to give local legal effect to its accession to the Rome Statute of the ICC. In addition, South Africa’s advocacy of democracy and human rights in Africa (and elsewhere) is grounded in its compliance with these standards at home. Through such Â�domestic actions, South Africa has shown that it practices at home what it preaches abroad, and in so doing it may be trying to serve as an example to others (cf. Holsti’s national role conception of ‘example’). There is also another side of the ledger, containing cases of South Africa not ‘living by the faith’ when dealing with some other countries. Its relations with Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 193 Zimbabwe, Sudan, Equatorial Guinea and Myanmar illustrate the limits of South Africa’s apostleship. Zimbabwe Following his defeat in a referendum on a new constitution in February 2000, President Robert Mugabe’s political repression and ruinous economic policies brought Zimbabwe to the brink of state collapse. Mbeki stoutly defended Zimbabweans’ sovereign right to resolve their own problems without foreign pressure and dictation. Foreign Minister Nkosazana Dlamini Zuma even vowed that Mugabe would ‘never be condemned’ by South Africa as long as the ANC remained in power (as cited in Olivier 2003: 819) – an acknowledgement of the liberatory solidarity between the ANC and Mugabe’s Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU). Rather than confront or criticise Mugabe, Mbeki opted for constructive engagement by assuming the role of mediator between opposing political forces in Zimbabwe. As a consequence Mbeki opposed Zimbabwe’s suspension from the Commonwealth in 2002 and he also rejected the smart sanctions that Western states imposed against Zimbabwe’s ruling elite. In no mood for compromise, Mugabe resorted to a new and singularly brutal crackdown on opposition parties and groups in March 2007. Britain in response urged the UN Security Council to accelerate punitive action against Zimbabwe. South Africa, then a non-Â�permanent member of the Council, was adamant that the Security Council should not deal with the matter as Zimbabwe did not constitute a threat to international peace and security. Instead, South Africa insisted that SADC was the appropriate multilateral forum for dealing with the problems in Zimbabwe by diplomatic means. SADC duly gave Mbeki a mandate to continue his diplomatic endeavours in Zimbabwe (Kagwanja 2009: 294–295). It took a further deterioration of the situation to give international mediation a new impetus. The uncontested presidential election of June 2008, which Mugabe won by default, prompted African states to invite representatives from both the AU and UN to assist Mbeki. The increasingly multilateral character of the mediation effort seemed to pay off: within weeks ZANU and the two factions of the MDC began talks on forming a government of national unity based on power sharing. Although the so-Â�called Global Political Agreement was signed in September 2008, continuing discord between the protagonists delayed implementation until February 2009. By then Mbeki had been ousted from the presidency. As main mediator and co-Â�guarantor (with the AU and SADC) of Zimbabwe’s Global Political Agreement, Zuma acknowledged, South Africa has a vested interest in advancing political reconciliation and economic reconstruction in its neighbouring state (Zuma 2009; Ebrahim 2009: 3). Zuma is, however, unlikely to adopt a more forceful approach to Mugabe than previously, despite the latter’s often obstructive behaviour in the multiparty cabinet. For one thing, political debts weigh with Zuma. Speaking in Harare in August 2009, the president mentioned ‘the critical incidents in our history which will forever bind us for generations to come’. The Zimbabweans ‘never ceased to provide material and 194â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys political support to us during the struggle against apartheid’, Zuma recalled (Zuma 2009). In sum, its involvement in the Zimbabwe situation since 2000 reflected very little of South Africa’s apostleship role conception. Far from prioritising the restoration of democracy and human rights in Zimbabwe, South Africa’s engagement was informed by the need to stabilise the situation there and help rebuild the devastated economy, not least to contain the negative spill-Â�over of Zimbabwe’s near implosion on surrounding countries. South Africa also drew on its status as a continental power (and sub-Â�regional superpower) and on sentiments of liberatory solidarity with Mugabe’s party. Sudan In 2003 a civil war broke out in the Darfur region of Sudan between two rebel movements, the Sudan Liberation Movement (SLM) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM), on the one side, and the Sudanese Armed Forces and their Arab Janjaweed proxies, on the other. Sudanese and Janjaweed forces have been accused of the deliberate destruction of between 80 and 90 per cent of black African villages, scorched earth tactics, bombing and murdering civilians, attacks on refugees, racially targeted sexual violence, abduction of children, obstruction of humanitarian relief operations and ethnic cleansing (Human Rights Watch 2007). By the time the Darfur Peace Agreement (DPA) was concluded in May 2006 under the auspices of the AU, estimates of the death toll from the six-Â�year war ranged between 200,000 and 400,000. Violence continued despite the peace accord, albeit on a lesser scale than before (De Waal 2009). In June 2009 the US Agency for International Development (USAID) reported that since 2003 the humanitarian emergency in Darfur has affected over 4.7 million people, of whom 2.7 million were internally displaced. South Africa opposed moves in the UN Human Rights Council and the Security Council to censure the Bashir government or subject it to punitive measures (Nathan 2008: 2). The Republic’s loyalties became even clearer when President Omar al-Bashir paid the country an official visit in 2007. Mbeki lauded Sudan as a strategic partner of South Africa and the two leaders concluded agreements on defence, economic ties and trade cooperation. On the Bashir government’s widespread atrocities in Darfur, Mbeki was conspicuously silent. In July 2008 the Darfur saga took a new turn when the chief prosecutor of the ICC asked the court to issue a warrant of arrest for President Bashir on charges of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity in Darfur. The Arab League and the AU’s Peace and Security Council wanted the UN Security Council to stop the ICC action against Bashir in the interests of peace in Darfur. Mbeki shared this view (News24.com 2008). Mbeki’s response to Darfur suggests that South Africa’s apostleship was subordinated to other considerations. The old code of solidarity among African leaders featured, as did the tenet of African solutions for African problems. More pragmatically, economic factors may have weighed with Mbeki, not the least of which is Sudan’s abundant oil reserves (Nathan 2008: 5). Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 195 Under Zuma South Africa has adopted a new tone by acknowledging that continuing human rights violations against civilians in Darfur and the humanitarian crisis there ‘are of such magnitude that we cannot afford to dissociate ourselves from this ongoing conflict’ (Ebrahim 2009: 4). While South Africa still took care not to apportion any blame, the International Criminal Court (ICC) had no doubt about the identity of the main perpetrator of the mass abuses. In March 2009 the Court issued an arrest warrant for President Bashir on two counts of war crimes and five of crimes against humanity; there were no charges of genocide, as in the 2008 application. In July 2009 the AU Assembly decided that member states would not cooperate with the ICC in arresting Bashir and surrendering him to the court. South Africa again supported this position. Nkoane-Â�Mashabane (2009b: 11) in October reiterated that ‘the imperatives of justice should not undermine equally important efforts to promote lasting peace’ in Sudan. The Director-Â�General of the Department of International Relations and Cooperation (DIRCO), however, conceded that the refusal to cooperate with the ICC over Bashir meant that South Africa violated both its constitutional values and obligations under the Rome Statute and so harmed its international reputation (Ntsaluba 2009: 4, 6). In due course Zuma gave notice that if the Sudanese president visited South Africa, he would be arrested (Nkoane-Â�Mashabane 2010b: 1). This may not represent a change of heart on South Africa’s part, but may merely indicate a grudging acceptance of its obligations under international law. Equatorial Guinea The tiny West African state of Equatorial Guinea has been ruled by President Obiang Nguema Mbasogo ever since the coup d’état that brought him to power in 1979. Although nominally a multiparty democracy, the country’s elections have been marked by fraud and irregularities and its human rights record is one of the worst in Africa. In May 2010 a large group of international human rights organisations branded Nguema Mbasogo ‘a cruel and corrupt despot’ whose government resorts to arbitrary arrests, incommunicado detentions and unfair trials. The human rights watchdogs accused the president and his immediate family of diverting vast amounts of oil revenue (Equatorial Guinea is sub-Â� Saharan Africa’s third-Â�largest oil producer) to their private benefit. Such is the scale of official corruption that Transparency International recently ranked Equatorial Guinea among the world’s 12 most corrupt states. Nguema Mbasogo’s government also has to contend with the challenges of a separatist movement and a government in exile. Early in 2009 the presidential palace in the capital Malabo came under armed attack (Human Rights Watch 2010: 1–3; BBC News 2010: 1–3). Unperturbed, Zuma paid an official visit to Equatorial Guinea in November 2009 aimed at ‘strengthening the excellent relationship of friendship and cooperation’ between the two countries. According to a joint communiqué, Zuma 196â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys renewed his support for his friend and brother Obiang Nguema Mbasogo’ and the two leaders renewed their profound adherence to the principles of democracy, respect of human rights, rule of law and good economic and political governance, which are core values of any economic and social development policy. They also agreed on the need to respect the UN Charter and shared a conventional view of sovereignty by endorsing ‘independence and sovereignty of states and non-Â�interference in the internal affairs of other countries’ (Department of International Relations and Cooperation 2009: 1–2). In evidently upholding thisÂ€ principle on his visit to Equatorial Guinea – by not questioning Nguema Mbasogo’s style of government – Zuma was probably influenced by the dictates of intra-Â�Africa fraternity and solidarity as well as his host country’s oil riches. Myanmar Myanmar’s dismal human rights record has been under the international spotlight for nearly 20 years, with the fate of Aung San Suu Kyi taking centre stage. In the general election of May 1990 Suu Kyi’s opposition National League for Democracy (NLD) scored a resounding victory, but the military rulers refused to surrender power to the NLD. Instead, opposition figures were persecuted and Suu Kyi remained under house arrest – to which she had been confined in 1989. During this first bout of incarceration she received the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize. The UN General Assembly, the Commission on Human Rights (and its successor, the Human Rights Council) and the International Labour Organisation have since the early 1990s repeatedly taken issue with Myanmar’s military junta over gross human rights violations. In 2005 the Security Council for the first time declared that it could no longer ignore the wholesale abuse of human rights in Myanmar. The EU and America have resorted to punitive economic measures against the military dictatorship. Even the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) member states have roundly condemned political repression in Myanmar, while at the same time pursuing ‘constructive engagement’ with the errant regime (Geldenhuys 2006: 165–168). When Suu Kyi was freed from house arrest in 1995 (after nearly six years), South Africa publicly praised her for her ‘dedicated perseverance in striving for a democratic dispensation in Myanmar’ and expressed the hope that her release signalled Yangon’s intention to engage in serious dialogue with the opposition to normalise the democratic process (quoted by Geldenhuys 2006: 168). Instead, the military rulers placed her under renewed house arrest in 2000. Her release in 2002 was welcomed by South Africa’s Department of Foreign Affairs as a major development giving significant momentum to the process of restoring democracy and human rights in Myanmar. It was wishful thinking: Suu Kyi was again condemned to house arrest in 2003. An evidently disillusioned Aziz Pahad, Deputy Foreign Minister, described the move by ‘the military government’ of Myanmar as a ‘blow’ to efforts at achieving national reconciliation and democracy. Pahad Apostleshipâ•‡â•‡ 197 joined scores of foreign governments in calling for Suu Kyi’s immediate release and the urgent resumption of talks to resolve the political future of Myanmar (quoted by Geldenhuys 2006: 169). Despite Pahad’s critical utterance, South Africa refrained from voting in UN organs on resolutions concerning Myanmar or making statements in debates on the situation in that country. The Department of Foreign Affairs in 2006 depicted this as a principled stance followed across the board. ‘South Africa recognises that each country has specific issues and challenges that will be resolved only by participation of all domestic stakeholders’, a policy document declared. South Africa accordingly took ‘a position of consistent support for no-Â�action motions where resolutions have been tabled by countries seeking to rectify human rights issues in other countries’. Where such motions have been voted on, South Africa chose to abstain (Geldenhuys 2006: 169). Myanmar was one of the cases in which South Africa applied this combination of moral neutrality and political inaction, also during its two-Â�year term on the UN Security Council (2007–2008). It was the very antithesis of apostleship. In a redeeming move of sorts, the Department of Foreign Affairs in October 2007 summoned the ambassador of Myanmar in Pretoria to protest against the crushing of peaceful protest by monks in Yangon (Fritz 2009: 17). Since Zuma’s became president, more signs of apostleship have been noticeÂ� able in South Africa’s dealings with Myanmar. In 2009 the new Minister of International Relations and Cooperation publicly condemned the latest trial of Aung San Suu Kyi and called for her immediate release. Nkoane-Â�Mashabane’s deputy also conveyed South Africa’s concern about Suu Kyi’s trial to Myanmar’s ambassador and offered to send a South African delegation to that country to facilitate negotiations between local political parties (Fritz 2009: 16). When Suu Kyi was subsequently convicted on charges of subversion and sentenced to further house arrest, South Africa was swift in joining the international community in ‘unequivocally condemning’ this decision of the Myanmar authorities. South Africa also called for Suu Kyi’s immediate release and for an inclusive dialogue between all parties in Myanmar to create the necessary conditions for free and fair elections there in 2010 (Department of International Relations and Cooperation 2009). Conclusion A modern-Â�day defender of the faith, like South Africa, assumes a foreign policy role involving much more than defending a value system from attack. For this reason the notion of apostleship was proposed, focusing on a state’s promotion of democracy and human rights abroad. Although the fervour with which the new South Africa initially articulated this role has since been tempered, its foreign policy still carries a strongly ethical content. The policymakers keep drawing on the sources from which the role originally sprang, namely, a combination of internal experience, regional pre-Â�eminence and global expectation. South Africa’s actual role performance has been rather mixed. Its greatest 198â•‡â•‡ D. Guldenhuys Â� successes in promoting the gospel of democracy and human rights is to be found in the AU’s embodiment of universal standards of human rights. However, in dealing with individual states that openly violate these very norms – for instance, Zimbabwe, Sudan, Equatorial Guinea and Myanmar – South Africa has compromised its lofty commitments. Democratic South Africa is of course not alone in facing the dilemma of trying to be an exemplary state in an imperfect world. Countries proclaiming to act ethically in the world arena, like Britain and America, are often criticised ‘for not living up to their own rhetoric’ by being inconsistent and selective in tackling ethical issues written into their foreign policy agendas (Smith and Light 2001: 10). Based on his personal experience in the Carter administration, Brzezinski (1985: 547) recorded that ‘rigid moral consistency is not possible in a complicated world’. States typically have to marry judgements of desirability with assessments of feasibility, often resulting in what Niebuhr called ‘uneasy compromises’ (quoted by Howard 1977: 375). This has not surprisingly been true also of South Africa’s interaction with errant states. Yet the Republic can be faulted for being unnecessarily ‘soft’ in dealing with such countries, especially human rights abusers in Africa. 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International Studies Quarterly, 26( 3), 1992, pp.Â€245–270. On Analyzing the Dynamics of Foreign Policy Change, Cooperation and Conflict, 28(1), 1993, pp.Â€5–30. Sweden Facing the New Europe: Whither Neutrality? European Security, 2(1), 1993, pp.Â€71–89. Co-Â�editor (together with Steve Smith), European Foreign Policy: The EC and Changing Perspectives in Europe (London: Sage, 1994). Founding editor, European Journal of International Relations, 1995–1999. Co-Â�editor (with Marie Muller), Change and South African External Relations (Johannesburg: International Thompson Publishing, 1997). The Compatibility of EU Membership with Neutrality. In Bill McSweeney (ed.). Morality in International Affairs: Problems in European Integration (London: Macmillan, 1998). Co-Â�editor (with Beth Simmons and Thomas Risse), Handbook of International Relations (London: Sage, 2002; paperback 2005; 2nd edition, 2012). 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Index Page numbers in italics denote tables, those in bold denote figures. Adler, Emanuel 152 Adorno, Theodor 51 African National Congress (ANC) 188 African Union 192 Agency Structure Problem in Foreign Policy Analysis, The (Carlsnaes) 31 agent-structure theory 31, 32–6, 37, 42–3, 45; Bourdieu’s theories 85–6; and discourse 72–3; interpretations of actions 77; plays 73–4; problems of 68–9; rituals 70, 72, 73, 74; social performances 73–4; social scientists reflections on 69; Wendt’s discussion of 32–3; Westphalian system 75; see also European Union foreign policy practices Agents, Structures and International Relations: Politics as Ontology (Wight) 37 American Social Science, An: International Relations (Hoffman) 20 Amsterdam, Treaty of (1999) 83, 159 anarchy 69, 74, 75, 77 Anderson, Jan J. 143 Apel, Karl-Otto 55n9 apostleship 187–8, 189; implementation 192–3; promotion of core ideas 192; sources of apostleship in South Africa 190–1 Archer, Margaret 32, 34–5, 43n3, 46 Arendt, Hanna 134n7 Ashoka, Emperor 17 Ashton, Catherine, Baroness Ashton 138, 154; see also High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy ATHENA 156 Bailey Conference 22 Baldwin, David 3 Banks, Michael 17 Barnett, Michael 143, 152 Beer, Samuel H. 116 Behnke, Andreas 96 Bennett, Andrew 12 Berlin, Isaiah 62–3 Bernstein, Eduard 59 Bhaskar, Roy 35, 46, 53 bicameral mind 48, 54n3 Bismarck, Otto von 65 Blair, Tony 168–71 Bourdieu, Pierre 82, 85–6, 92n10, n11, n12 Brazil 26 British International Studies Association (BISA) 22 Broek, Hans van den 90–1 Brook, Elmar 130 Brooks, David 62 Brown, Michael E. 55n6 Brzezinski, Zbigniew 198 Bull, Hedley 20 Bulmer, Martin 4 Burton, John 20 Butterfield, Herbert 20 Buzan, Barry 20, 22, 26, 151 Bynander, Fredrik xiii, 163–75 Campbell, Alistair 168–9 capitalism 18 Carlsnaes, Walter xvii–xviii, 68, 161n1, 186; agent-structure problem 31, 32–6, 37, 42–3, 45; agent-structure relationship in EU foreign policy 81–2, 100; concept of ideology 9; Contemporary European Foreign Policy 150; contribution to IR as an academic 208â•‡â•‡ Index Carlsnaes, Walter continued discipline 15, 21–5, 137; early studies of conceptualisation 4; editor of European Journal of International Relations 24–5; essentially contested concepts 7; European Foreign Policy: The EC and Changing Perspectives in Europe xviii; foreign policy analysis (FPA) 9–12, 10; foreign policy, definition of 181; interpretivism 10–11; materialism, analysis of 8–9; pre-theory 65; relationship between foreign policy and international politics 36–7; structural dispositions 114; tensions between history and meta-theory 5–7; theories, classification of 8; understanding of conceptual analysis 5 Carr, E.H. 117 Cassirer, Ernst 4 causal complex 46 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) 166 Chayes, Abram 147 child learning 49–51 China 17, 26; European diplomats at the Chinese court 69–70; koutou 70, 71, 74–7, 78; rituals 70, 72, 73, 74 Code of Hammurabi 48–9, 51 Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) 131–2, 150–62; ability of EU to formulate objectives 154–5; CFSP budget 156; civilian and military capabilities 157; EU as a multi-level governance system 152–3; EU as a security actor 150–1, 153; EU as a tightly coupled security community 152; organisational skills, lack of 159–60; rules, rights and authorities, existence of 155–6; security and integration 151–2; security policy expertise 157–8; staffing resources 157; see also research on EU foreign and security policy Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) 83, 131–2, 141–3, 150; political dynamics 143–6 conceptual analysis 3; Carlsnaes, influence of 4; distinction between levels of action and observation 5; distinction between words and concepts 5; essentially contested concepts 7; meta-theoretical dependence of theorisation and conceptualisation 8; theory dependency 7; Weber, influence of 4 conservative internationalism 114–15 conservative nationalism 115 Contemporary European Foreign Policy (Carlsnaes) 150 context 41–2 culture 68, 69, 78–9 Czempiel, Ernst-Otto 176, 183 Daimler 181, 182 Declaration on Democracy, Political, Economic and Corporate Governance 192 defender of the faith concept 187–8 Derrida, Jacques 54n2 Deutsch, Karl 20, 152 Diez, Thomas 112, 127–8 discourse ethics 52–3, 72–3 Durkheim, Emile 51, 55n5 Duvall, Raymond 143 Eberwein, Wolf-Dieter 24 Ebrahim, Ebrahim Israel 189–90 Economy and Society (Weber) 4 egocentrism 49–50, 54–5n3 Ekengren, Magnus xiii–xiv, 81–94 emancipatory politics 32, 43n1 emotions 49 empirical analysis and theory 3–4 English language 16 Equatorial Guinea 195–6 Eurasian tradition see Russian tradition Europe: diplomatic relations with China 69–70; European diplomats at the Chinese court 71 European Commission 155, 158 European Consortium for Political Research (ECPR) 23–4; Standing Group Committee 24 European Evaluation Society 128 European External Action Service (EEAS) 150, 153, 154, 156 European Foreign Policy: The EC and Changing Perspectives in Europe (Carlsnaes and Smith) xviii European Journal of International Relations xviii, 15, 21; establishment of 24–5 European Neighbourhood Policy 151 European Parliament (EP) 130 European Political Cooperation (EPC) 140 European Security and Defence Policy see Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) European Security Strategy 150, 153, 154 European Union foreign policy 81–94, 137–49; agency ability 140–1; agency Indexâ•‡â•‡ 209 and crisis management 90–2; agentstructure relationship 81–2, 91–2, 138; candidate countries 139; civil protection 83–4; consultation between member states 138; crisis management, agentstructure relationship 86–7; crisis management, theory of practice 85–6; current situation, description of 138–40; decision making processes 139; foreign policy tools 137–8; humanitarian aid 84; institutional power 143; international actors in crisis management 88–9, 89; military power, need for 146–7; security, political dynamics of 143–6; structural power 140–1; structure and crisis management 87–90; trade policy 139; Turkish earthquakes 90–1; unitary action, lack of 141; see also Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) Fauconnier, Gilles 54n1 Fearon, James 36–7 Finland 144 First Pan-European International Relations Conference (1992) 23 First World War 18, 51; aftermath 18–19 foreign policy analysis (FPA) 9–12, 10, 176–85; agency, issue of 35–6; Carlsnaes’ definition of foreign policy 181; and global governance perspective 181–3; governance, definition of 176–7; governance structures based on private authority 177; ideas, importance of 163–4; international regime significance 177; levels of analysis 37–42, 38, 39; modes of political steering 178, 180; morphogenetic cycles 35; multinational corporations, external affairs 181–2; non-governmental organisations, external affairs 181–2; relationship with international politics 36–7; sovereignty issues 182; transnational governance 177–8, 179, 181; see also European Union foreign policy Foreign Policy Analysis (Smith et. al.) 137 foreign policy traditions 109–22; attitudes of American leaders 112; conservative internationalism 114–15; conservative nationalism 115; Hamiltonian priorities 118; Holbraad’s analysis of European political ideologies 114–15; horizontal perspectives on European foreign policy 110–11; isolationism 118; liberal internationalism 115, 117–18; multilateralism 117; public philosophies 111, 116, 118–19; socialist internationalism 115; socialist nationalism 115; US foreign policy traditions 113, 116–17; vertical versus horizontal perspectives 109–10 Foucault, Michel 51 France: language 16; security relationship with UK 141–2, 145–6 Frei, Christopher 60 Future of Power, The (Nye) 146–7 Gallic tradition 17 Galtung, Johan 16 Geldenhuys, Deon xiv, 186–201 George, Alexander 12 German language 16 ‘Getting Iraq Wrong’ (Ignatieff) 63 Giddens, Anthony 31, 34, 46, 102n16 Gilligan, Andrew 168 Goldmann, Kjell xiv, 59–67 Goldstein, Judith 163 Graduate Institute of International Studies 19 Great War see First World War Groom, A.J.R. xiv, 15–27 Guzzini, Stefano xiii, 3–14 Haas, Ernst B. 98 Habermas, Jürgen 52–3 habitus 85, 88, 92n11 Haine, Jean-Yves 117–18 Hallonen, Tarja 90–1 Hasenclever, Andreas 101n6 Held, David 130 High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy 138, 153, 154, 155–6 Hill, Christopher 109, 151, 160 historians of ideas 3 history, tensions with meta-theory 5–7 Hoffman, Stanley 20, 96 Holbraad, Carsten 114–15, 119 Holland 75–6 Hollis, Martin 8, 33, 37, 38 Holsti, Ole 64, 111, 112, 186–8, 190 Honneth, Axel 128 Horkheimer, Max 51 Howarth, Jolyon 142 human development 47–9; learning, individual and collective 49–51, 53; stages of moral reasoning 51–3 human rights 18, 128, 130, 188–90; Equatorial Guinea 195; Myanmar 195–6; Sudan 194–5; Zimbabwe 193–4 210â•‡â•‡ Index Hungary 139 Hussein, Saddam see Iraq, invasion of Iberians 16 Ideas and Foreign Policy: Beliefs, Institutions and Political Change (Keohane and Goldstein) 163 Ignatieff, Michael 63 ‘Imperialism: the Highest Form of Capitalism’ (Lenin) 18 India 17, 26 individuals 39–41 Institute for Intellectual Cooperation 19 institution building 15 integration theory 20 intelligence services see Iraq, invasion of interaction, dynamics of 40–1 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) 98, 99, 102n16 International Criminal Court 130 international organisations (IO) 177; ability to act 97–8, 102n11; use of, as arenas 143–6 international politics, relationship with foreign policy 36–7 international power, theory of 59–62, 66n1; Berlin’s hedgehogs and foxes theory 62–3, 64; offensive realism 64–5; pre-theory 64–5; theories of power as tools 65; see also power international regime significance 95–106; agent-structure relationship 100; compliance, relationship with significance 95; institutions, regimes and organisations, use of terms in literature 97–8, 102–3n7; international organisations, ability to act 97–8, 102n11; regimes as enabling and constraining institutions 99–100; regimes, conception of 96–7; regimes, relationship with organisations 98–9 international relations (IR): as an academic discipline 19–21; agent-structure problem 31, 32–6, 42–3, 45; Carlsnaes’ contribution to IR as an academic discipline 21–5; culture, role of 78–9; development of 16; First World War, effects of 18–19; global development 25–6; institutionalisation of IR studies 21–2; international power, theory of 59–62, 66n1; languages, influence of 16–17; see also international power, theory of International Studies Association (ISA) 22, 23 International Studies Quarterly 68 internationalism, concept of 114–15 Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Number (ICANN) 177 interpretivism 5, 8, 10–11 Iraq, invasion of 154, 163–75; CIA lack of intelligence 166; CIA, relations with Bush administration 166; decision to intervene in Iraq 164–5; defiance of sanctions 170; errors of judgement in US intelligence cycle 167–8, 172–3; importance of ideas to foreign policy 163–4; relationship between Blair and Bush 170–1; UK intelligence controversies 168–70, 171–2; UN weapons inspections 165–6 Jachtenfuchs, Markus 112 Jaynes, Julian 47–8, 49 Jesuits 75 Jørgensen, Knud Erik xiv–xv, 109–22 Josephus, Flavius 66n3 Jung, Sabine 112 Kane, John 113 Kant, Immanuel 52, 53 Katzenstein, Peter J. 101n2 Kelly, David 168 Keohane, Robert 62, 96, 97, 98, 163, 181 Koenig-Archibugi, Mathias 145 Kohlberg, Lawrence 51–2, 55n7, n8 koutou 70, 71, 74–7, 78 Krasner, Stephen 181 Kratochwil, Friedrich 99 Krippendorf, Ekkehart 183 Kuhn, Thomas 7 Lakatos, Imre 7 language 16–17; development of 47–8, 54n1 Language and Thought of the Child, The (Piaget) 49–50 Layder, Derek 39 League of Nations 18–19 learning, individual and collective 49–51, 53 Lenin, Vladimir 18 liberal internationalism 115, 117–18 liberal nationalism 115 Libya 146 Lisbon, Treaty of (2009) 83, 84, 155, 159–60 Little, Richard 20 Lyotard, Jean-Francois 51 Indexâ•‡â•‡ 211 Maastricht, Treaty of (1992) 155 Mandela, Nelson 188–9 Mann, Michael 20 Manners, Ian 109 Manning, C.A.W. 20 March, James G. 97, 155, 159, 160 Marx, Karl 17, 18, 59 materialism 8–9 Matlary, Janne Haaland xv, 137–49 Mbasogo, Obiang Nguema 195–6 Mbeki, Thabo 188–9, 190, 192; and Sudan 194; and Zimbabwe 193 Mead, Walter Russell 113, 117, 119 Mearsheimer, John J. 61, 64–5, 117 media reporting of military operations 144–5 meta-theory, tensions with history 5–7 Mitrany, David 20 Moral Judgement of the Child, The (Piaget) 50 moral learning 50–1; stages of moral reasoning 51–3, 55n7, n8 Morgenthau, Hans 60, 66n5, 117 morphogenesis 34–5, 41 Morrison, James V. 60 Moscow State Institute of International Relations 23 Mugabe, Robert 193 Muslims 16 Myanmar 196–7 national role conceptions 186–8 nationalism 115 NATO 142, 145, 146 Nau, Henry 113, 117, 119 neutrality 144 Nipponic tradition 17 Nkoane-Mashabane, Maite 189, 190, 191, 195 Norway 140, 143 Nye, Joseph 146–7, 181 Nzo, Alfred 188, 190 offensive realism, theory of 64–5 Olsen, Johan P. 97, 155, 159, 160 O’Neill, Bob 22 Onuf, Nicholas 39 Operation ARTEMIS 83 Oppenheim, Felix E. 5, 6 Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPWC) 98, 99, 102n16 Parker, Charles xv, 95–106 Patomäki, Heikki xv, 40, 45–58 Peloponnesian War, The (Thucydides) 59–60 Pfetsch, Frank 23 Piaget, Jean 49–50, 54–5n3, 55n4 Plame, Valerie 166 pluralist tradition 17, 18 political thought, traditions of 17–19 Politics Among Nations (Morgenthau) 60 Popper, Karl 51 population growth 48 Portugal 75–6 power: institutional power 143; and legitimacy 129–30, 134n7; military power 146–7; see also international power, theory of public philosophies 111, 116, 118–19 Putnam, Robert 144–5 Rapid Reaction Mechanism 159 rational actions 72 rational choice theory 20–1 realist tradition 17–18, 144 regimes see international regime significance research on EU foreign and security policy 123–36; actors’ rationality conception 128–9; bargaining resources 132; ‘Brusselisation’ process 131; collective action, possibilities of 131–3; communicative rationality 130–1; consultation between member states 132–3; cosmopolitanism 125–6, 134n3; deliberation 132, 134n8; EU as a normative or ethical power 124; moral and ethical norms, distinction between 126–7; normativity standards 127–8; power and legitimacy 129–30, 134n7; pursuit of norms 124–5; sovereignty 130–1; voting 132 Ricci, Matteo 75 Riddell-Dixon, Elizabeth 188 Rieker, Pernille xv, 150–62 Ringmar, Erik xv, 68–80 Risse, Thomas xvi, 176–85 rituals 70, 72, 73, 74 Rø, Johannes 65 role theory 187 Roper, John 22 Rosenau, James 20, 64, 96, 111, 112, 176 Russia 17, 76 sameness, idea of 16 Sartori, Giovanni 6 212â•‡â•‡ Index Saxonic tradition 17 Schumaker, Paul 116 settings 41 Shapiro, Ian 163 Singer, David 37, 38, 43n4 situated activity 40–1 Sjursen, Helene xvi, 123–36 Smith, Steve xviii, 8, 33, 37, 38 Snyder, R.C. 64 social ontology, historicising 46–9 socialist internationalism 115 socialist nationalism 115 Solana, Javier 138 South African foreign policy 186–201, 187–8; African Union 192; apostleship 187–8, 189; defender of the faith concept 187–8; Equatorial Guinea, relations with 195–6; human rights, promotion of 188–90, 197–8; implementation of apostleship 192–3; Myanmar, relations with 196–7; national role conceptions 186–8; promotion of core ideas of apostleship 192; sources of apostleship 190–1; Strategic Plan 2010–2013 (DIRCO) 189; Sudan, relations with 194–5; Zimbabwe, relations with 193–4 Southern African Development Community (SADC) 193 sovereignty 16, 130–1, 182 Spence, Jack 22 Stability Instrument 156, 159 Strategic Plan 2010–2013 (DIRCO) 189 Straw, Jack 170, 172 structuralist tradition 17, 18 structuration theory 32–3, 34, 35, 85–6 Sudan 194–5 Sun Tsu 17 Suu Kyi, Aung San 195–6 Sweden 144 Swedish National Defence College 82 Tenet, George 164, 173 Teutonic tradition 17 Theories of International Regimes (Hasenclever et. al.) 101n6 Theory of International Politics (Waltz) 36, 60, 61–2, 64 Thies, Cameron T. 62 Thucydides 59–60, 66n2 Tickner, Arlene B. 26 Transformational Model of Social Activity (TMSA) 35 Treaty on European Union (Maastricht) 155 Turkey 90–1 Turner, Mark 54n1 UN Global Compact 177 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) 18 United Kingdom (UK): international relations development 19; relations with China 77, 78–9; security relationship with France 141–2, 145–6; see also Iraq, invasion of United States (US): foreign policy attitudes of leaders 112; increased academic parochialism 20; international relations development 19; power and legitimacy 129–30; relations with China 76–7; studies of foreign policy traditions 113, 116–17; see also Iraq, invasion of Wæver, Ole 26 Walker, R.B.J. 37 Wall, Sir Stephen 169 Waltz, Kenneth 36, 60, 61–2, 64, 66n5, 100, 102n17 Watson, Adam 20 weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) see Iraq, invasion of Weber, Max 4, 5, 51, 55n5 Weir, Margaret 116 Wendt, Alexander 31, 32–3, 36, 37, 38 Westermarck, Edward 51, 55n5 Westphalian system 16, 75, 76 Whitman, Richard 109 Wight, Colin xvi, 31–44 Wight, Martin 17, 20 Wilson IV, Joseph 166 Workshop on International Relations (1989) 23 World International Studies Committee (WISC) 26 writing, development of 48–9, 54n2 Zimbabwe 193–4 Zuma, Jacob 189, 193–4, 195–6 Taylor & Francis eBooks FOR liBRARIES Over 23,000 eBook titles in the Humanities, Social Sciences, STM and Law from some of the world's leading imprints. 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