Thomas+and+Will


 * Security**
 * Gender**
 * Plan: The United States federal government should implement a phased withdrawal of its military presence in the Republic of Korea.**

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Tan See Seng, Prof of Security Studies @ IDSS Singapore, ‘2 [July, “What Fear Hath Wrought: Missile Hysteria and The Writing of America, IDSS Commentary No. 28, []] Otherness, in Wolfowitz’s rendition, is also discursively constituted along a moral/immoral – or, alternatively, responsible/irresponsible – axis. Equally interesting is the notion that authoritarian or rogue-state leaders, besides lacking in rationality and viewing problem solving as a form of weakness, are “ruthless and avaricious” – an intentional, not accidental, choice of predicates. That (and here we are left to infer) “North Korea” or “Iraq” is ruled by such roguish elements can only mean that such states can, indeed they should, therefore be properly referred to as rogue states. Against these inscriptions of immorality or amorality stand, in diametric contrast, moral “America.” And here the unequal adoption by Wolfowitz’s discourse, in the case of “democracies,” of the analytical level of state/regime connotes that all America, and not only its leaders or certain individuals, is thereby kind, compassionate, altruistic – the polar opposite of all that rogue states, and possibly even China and Russia, represent. To be sure, nowhere in his words does Wolfowitz imply that there are as such no immoral or irresponsible Americans. Nor does he even hint that all citizens of rogue states are therefore roguish; political correctness, after all, is the norm in these enlightened times. But the discursive effect is such that we are left with the impression that leaders of rogue nations – Saddam Hussein, Kim Chong-il, and their ilk – epitomize the darkest of the dark metaphysics of human nature. And roguish as such are their foreign policies. In his evaluation of the missile threat from North Korea, the deputy CIA director asserted: Like everyone else, we knew the [Pyongyang] regime was brutal within its borders and a menace beyond. Its commando raids into South Korea and its assassination attempts against successive South Korean presidents – including the 1983 bombings in Rangoon that killed 21 people – were clear windows into the minds and morals of North Korean leaders.62 Again, it bears reminding that the argument here does not refuse the historical “reality” and tragic consequences either of Pyongyang’s oppressive policies at home or its ruinous forays abroad. In terms of exclusionary practices, however, interpretive conclusions concerning the brutality of the Pyongyang regime cannot be separated from the morality axis on which this particular statement turns. What, for instance, is the effect created by the use of the opening phrase, “Like everyone else”? To who exactly does “everyone” refer? That this analysis is intelligible at all depends upon the presupposition that this particular reading – an American reading, to be precise – is universally accepted by one and all. But this is clearly not the case as implied by the vociferous and potentially violent tide of militant Muslims in Pakistan and parts of the Middle East, who hold Washington in contempt for the latter’s alleged “brutality” and “menace” toward, say, the Iraqis, (by proxy) the Palestinians, or (most recently) the Afghans. As such, the discursive effect of the preceding constructions is the naturalization of the Pyongyang regime as immoral, irresponsible, or just plain evil given the damning evidence of dastardly deeds that proffer “clear windows into the minds and morals of North Korean leaders.” Further, that the enumerated acts above were those perpetrated by Kim Il-song and not by his son, Kim Chong-il, seems not to matter in this analysis, although it is the latter Kim’s government with whom the Bush Administration must deal. This is not to imply that this intelligence estimate on Kim was essentially all caricature and thereby shorn of “truth.” The CIA official continues in his assessment: It is easy to caricature Kim Chong-il – either as a simple tyrant blind to his dilemma or as a technocratic champion of sweeping change. But the extreme views of him tend to be the product of bias, ignorance, or wishful thinking. The reality is more complex… Like his father, he has been shrewd enough to make bad behavior the keystone of his foreign policy. He knows that proliferation is something we want to stop. Thus, Kim Chong-il has tried to drum up outside assistance by trading off international concerns about his missile programs and sales. He has – more subtly, of course – done much the same thing with foreign fears of renewed famine and the chaos that could accompany any unravelling of his regime.63 The evident attempt at nuance in the above analysis, however, does not preclude the continued deployment of representational practices along the axis of responsibility. “Like his father,” we are told, the “shrewd” Kim makes “bad behavior the keystone of his foreign policy” – an indication of chronic irresponsibility in North Korea’s international relations. We may note here the likely intrusive influence of another discourse, particularly that on nineteenth-century European diplomacy as it figures in American intellectual and popular culture. As historian Barbara Tuchman once noted, for most Americans the notion of diplomacy carries with it “all the wicked devices of the Old World, spheres of influence, balances of power, secret treatises, triple alliances”64 and other such forms of Machiavellian intrigue for which America, idealized as the New World – a seemingly virginal, innocent, and righteous identity – had no place. Indeed, just such a pristine identity is often adduced as the universal ideal to which all nations and peoples are presumed to aspire – a point made forcefully in the earlier cited “end of history” thesis popular in mainstream political debate at the close of the Cold War.65 In other words, what is good for America is obviously good for the whole world (or, at least those parts that are “rational,” “responsible,” “moral”). “Missile defense,” one congressman averred, “is for Americans, for Europeans, for Russians, and for all peace-loving peoples on the face of the Earth.”66 Without ignoring or denying North Korean complicity in the light of its sizeable transfers of missile technology to the Middle East, what those exclusionary practices produce is the materializing effect of a Pyongyang regime that, if anything, can be expected to harm the US at the slightest provocation – a representation of danger that finds easy resonance with American policymakers because of its familiarity rather than any likelihood of such an eventuation. Further, what is effaced or erased by the above statement are plausible illustrations of bad behaviour in American foreign policy: a policy orientation that, even by most orthodox accounts, has been realist – in both its prudential as well as Machiavellian aspects – throughout much of the Cold War period.67 Indeed, this effacement stands out starkly in the light of resistant discourses – mostly but not exclusively from European sources – which portray America as a rogue state68 given the apparent lack of “strategic restraint” in its post-Cold War foreign policy.69 Hence the tenuousness of such constructions of identity through excluding contradictions and tensions that are as much a part of Self as it is of the Other.
 * The discourses surrounding North Korea are dazed and confused – Kim Jong-Il is erratic, he’s insane, he’s evil, he’s cold and calculating – what all of these share is an investment in an us/them dichotomy by which America justifies its role as global hegemon through narratives of Korean instability**

Gusterson, 99 associate professor of Anthropology, (Hugh Gusterson, Associate Professor of Anthropology, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Nuclear Weapons and the Other in Western Imagination, CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY, February 1999, JSTOR) In the following pages I examine four popular arguments against horizontal nuclear proliferation and suggest that all four are ideological and orientalist. The arguments are that (1) Third World countries are too poor to afford nuclear weapons; (2) deterrence will be unstable in the Third World; (3) Third World regimes lack the technical maturity to be trusted with nuclear weapons; and (4) Third World regimes lack the political maturity to be trusted with nuclear weapons. Each of these four arguments could as easily be turned backwards and used to delegitimate Western nuclear weapons, as I show in the following commentary. Sometimes, in the specialized literature of defense experts, one finds frank discussion of near accidents, weaknesses, and anomalies in deterrence as it has been practiced by the established nuclear powers, but these admissions tend to be quarantined in specialized discursive spaces where the general public has little access to them and where it is hard to connect them to the broader public discourse on nuclear proliferation. In this article I retrieve some of these discussions of flaws in deterrence from their quarantined spaces and juxtapose them with the dominant discourse on the dangers of proliferation in order to destabilize its foundational assumption of a secure binary distinction between "the West" and "the Third World." It is my argument that, in the production of this binary distinction, possible fears and ambivalences about Western nuclear weapons are purged and recast as intolerable aspects of the Other. This purging and recasting occurs in a discourse characterized by gaps and silences in its representation of our own nuclear weapons and exaggerations in its representation of the Other's. Our discourse on proliferation is a piece of ideological machinery that transforms anxiety-provoking ambiguities into secure dichotomies. I should clarify two points here. First, I am not arguing that there are, finally, no differences between countries in terms of their reliability as custodians of nuclear weapons. I am arguing that those differences are complex, ambiguous, and crosscutting in ways that are not captured by a simple binary division between, on the one hand, a few countries that have nuclear weapons and insist they are safe and, on the other hand, those countries that do not have nuclear weapons and are told they cannot safely acquire them. It is my goal here to demonstrate the ways in which this simple binary distinction works as an ideological mechanism to impede a more nuanced and realistic assessment of the polymorphous dangers posed by nuclear weapons in all countries and to obscure recognition of the ways in which our own policies in the West have often exacerbated dangers in the Third World that, far from being simply the problems of the Other, are problems produced by a world system dominated by First World institutions and states.
 * This dichotomy specifically manifests itself in discussion of proliferation, obscuring that western security logic is what makes it possible**

George ’94 (Jim, Senior lecturer in international relations in the Department of Political Science, Australian National University, “Discourses of Global Politics: A Critical (Re)Introduction to International Relations,” p. 100, AM) Throughout the behavioralist period the issue of nuclear war loomed large. So, too, did the question of nuclear deterrence. Influential works by Herman Kahn introduced new levels of complexity to deterrence logic while prompting International Relations scholars to think the "unthink­able"—the use of nuclear weapons as an ultimate deterrent.49 Among nuclear strategists, however, it was the rationality premise associated with game theory that proved most appealing as the basis for scientific theoriz­ing about human behavior and decisionmaking processes in the nuclear age. Via game theory techniques, it was argued, strategic problems could be reduced to "a manageable form in which the dilemmas and paradoxes of the age could be bared and solutions explored." At the broader level (echo­ing logical positivism), the aims of nuclear strategic analysis were to con­struct a "nuclear strategy as a science [in which, first] the logic, dynamics and management of nuclear war and its deterrence can be explained and controlled by precise, quantifiable methods and policies."50 Throughout the 1960s, accordingly, the literature of International Relations specialists res­onated with rational deductive approaches and game-theorized models derived largely from neoclassical economic theory and utilitarian assump­tions about human nature and behavior.51
 * This understanding of deterrence justifies the use of nuclear weapons**

Kang, 3. David (Professor of International Relations and Business, Director of Korean Studies Institute), Getting Asia Wrong: The Need for New Analytical Frameworks International Security, Volume 27, Number 4, Spring 2003, pp. 57-85 MUSE Following the end of the Cold War in 1991, some scholars in the West began to predict that Asia was “ripe for rivalry.”12 They based this prediction on the following factors: wide disparities in the levels of economic and military power among nations in the region; their different political systems, ranging from democratic to totalitarian; historical animosities; and the lack of international institutions. Many scholars thus envisaged a return of power politics after de- cades when conºict in Asia was dominated by the Cold War tension between the United States and the Soviet Union. In addition, scholars envisaged a return of arms racing and the possibility of major conflict among Asian coun- tries, almost all of which had rapidly changing internal and external environments. More specific predictions included the growing possibility of Japanese rearmament;13 increased Chinese adventurism spurred by China’s rising power and ostensibly revisionist intentions;14 conºict or war over the status of Taiwan;15 terrorist or missile attacks from a rogue North Korea against South Korea, Japan, or even the United States;16 and arms racing or even conflict in Southeast Asia, prompted in part by unresolved territorial disputes.17 More than a dozen years have passed since the end of the Cold War, yet none of these pessimistic predictions have come to pass. Indeed there has not been a major war in Asia since the 1978–79 Vietnam-Cambodia-China conºict; and with only a few exceptions (North Korea and Taiwan), Asian countries do not fear for their survival. Japan, though powerful, has not rearmed to the ex- tent it could. China seems no more revisionist or adventurous now than it was before the end of the Cold War. And no Asian country appears to be balancing against China. In contrast to the period 1950–80, the past two decades have witnessed enduring regional stability and minimal conºict. Scholars should directly confront these anomalies, rather than dismissing them. Social scientists can learn as much from events that do not occur as from those that do. The case of Asian security provides an opportunity to examine the usefulness of accepted international relations paradigms and to determine how the assumptions underlying these theories can become misspecified. Some scholars have smuggled ancillary and ad hoc hypotheses about preferences into realist, institutionalist, and constructivist theories to make them fit various aspects of the Asian cases, including: assumptions about an irrational North Korean leadership, predictions of an expansionist and revisionist China, and depictions of Japanese foreign policy as “abnormal.”18 Social science moves forward from the clear statement of a theory, its causal logic, and its predictions. Just as important, however, is the rigorous assessment of the theory, especially if predictions flowing from it fail to materialize. Exploring why scholars have misunderstood Asia is both a fruitful and a necessary theoretical exercise. Two major problems exist with many of the pessimistic predictions about Asia. First, when confronted with the nonbalancing of Asian states against China, the lack of Japanese rearmament, and five decades of noninvasion by North Korea, scholars typically respond: Just wait. This reply, however, is intel- lectually ambiguous. Although it would be unfair to expect instantaneous national responses to changing international conditions, a dozen years would seem to be long enough to detect at least some change. Indeed Asian nations have historically shown an ability to respond quickly to changing circum- stances. The Meiji restoration in Japan in 1868 was a remarkable example of governmental response to European and American encroachment, and by 1874 Japan had emerged from centuries of isolation to occupy Taiwan.19 More re- cently, with the introduction of market reforms in late 1978, when Deng Xiaoping famously declared, “To get rich is glorious,” the Chinese have trans- formed themselves from diehard socialists to exuberant capitalists beginning less than three years after Mao’s death in 1976.20 In the absence of a speciªc time frame, the “just wait” response is unfalsiªable. Providing a causal logic that explains how and when scholars can expect changes is an important as- pect of this response, and reasonable scholars will accept that change may not be immediate but may occur over time. Without such a time frame, however, the “just wait” response is mere rhetorical wordplay designed to avoid troubling evidence.
 * These Cold War conceptions of Korea aren't true any more—changing representational practices is key to accurate predictions**

Bleiker, 2005 (Roland, Professor of International Relations, pHD from the Australian National University, “Divided Korea: Toward A Culture of Reconciliation,” p. 103-4, TH) To move from trauma to reconciliation some aspects of the war have to be “forgotten.” Nietzsche stresses that the past suffocates the present unless we forget it. He calls upon people to have the courage to “break with the past in order to live.”21 Forgetting, in this sense, does not mean ignoring what happened. Forgetting, it must be remembered, is a natural process, an inevitable aspect of remembering. We all do it, whether we want it or not. We cannot possibly remember everything. We cannot give every event the same weight. Our memory of the past is the result of a process through which certain events and interpretations are remembered and pri- oritized, while others are relegated to secondary importance or forgotten altogether. This is particularly the case with a major event like the Korean War, which is far too complex to be remembered in its totality. The task of historians is to select the few facts, perspectives, and interpretations that ought to be remembered. The combination of forgetting and remembering is as inevitable as it is political. History is, in fact, as much about the present and the future as it is about the past. At the time an event takes place there is no memory. Historical awareness emerges later and by necessity includes values and inter- ests that have nothing to do with the original occurrence. History, in this sense, is one of the prime sites of politics. Nietzsche is par- ticularly critical of periods during which historical understandings lack critical awareness of this process—situations, say, when power- ful rulers fail to gain legitimacy on their own and thus rely on the misappropriation of historical figures and events to justify their form of dominance.22 Such is undoubtedly the case in contemporary Korea, where history has been geared far more toward supporting particular regimes than toward actually representing what happened in the past. But South Korea also displays signs of what Nietzsche calls “criti-cal histories”: attempts to challenge the notion of a single historical reality and create the political space in which diverging narratives of the past can compete with each other, perhaps even respect each other, despite the differences that divide them. A recent example of a breakthrough in this direction, timid as it may well be, can be found in revisions of history textbooks. Several generations of his- tory texts that are used in South Korea’s schools have studiously avoided even mentioning the role that Northern Communist gue- rillas played in the fight against the Japanese colonial occupiers. Textbooks released in early 2003 for the first time deal with a 1937 clash between Japanese colonial forces and resistance fight- ers allegedly led by Kim Il Sung, the future leader of North Korea. The passage reads as follows: In June, 1937, the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army crossed the Yalu river and seized Bocheonbo, south of Hamgyong province. . . . The Japanese were shocked by the attack and began to aggressively crack down on the Korean national movement. After Korea was lib- erated from Japan, Kim Il Sung was revered by North Koreans as a leader of Korean independence. . . . Some academics in South Korea have been critical of North Korea for exaggerating the battle.23 This account is undoubtedly far more balanced and less hostile than the overtly ideological representations that had prevailed for decades. A representative of the Ministry of Education called it an attempt to present “strictly the facts.”24 That is hardly possible, of course, but even so, the more balanced representation still created protest from conservative segments of South Korea’s society. Park Sung Soo, head of the Institute of Documenting Accurate History, warned of succumbing to North Korea’s propaganda. He argued that “the reference to the battle needs to be removed or it may taint the pure minds of youth.”25
 * Their one-sided appeal to empirics contorts history to support political goals - prefer our holistic approach**

Bleiker, 2005 (Roland, Professor of International Relations, pHD from the Australian National University, “Divided Korea: Toward A Culture of Reconciliation,” p. 110, TH) If history is to be placed in the service of reconciliation, it has to go beyond merely acknowledging that the two sides have different notions of the past. Leaving it at that would only entrench prevailing antagonisms and thus legitimize or even intensify the existing conflict. An ethics of difference must seek to create the conditions under which different identities can coexist and explore common ground. Here too the role of the Korean War is essential, for a process of reconciliation would need to seek out the lowest common denominator that could unite the diverging historical narratives on the peninsula. Susan Dwyer identifies three stages in the process of reconciliation. The first, she says, consists of an effort to find agreement on “the barest of facts.” The second stage involves identifying a range of dif- ferent interpretations of the events. And the third stage would entail narrowing things down to a limited set of interpretations that the two sides can tolerate.47 While such a goal of agreeing to disagree seems modest, the path to achieving it is littered with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. The first hurdle alone is gargantuan, for Dwyer defines agreeing on “the barest of facts” as finding a clear view of “who did what to whom and when.”48 In Korea these “bare facts” are, of course, precisely the major point of contention—and the source of trauma and hatred. And even if there were agreement on certain truth claims, promoting them may not necessarily bring more justice. Kwon Hyeok-beom, for instance, warns of searching for common roots between North and South and using them as a basis for reconciliation. The strong masculinism that still dominates both parts of the peninsula promotes identity practices that consti- tute women as “kind, gentle, and subservient.” Thus grounding rec- onciliation in common Confucian values may only strengthen the patriarchal social order and lead to further discrimination against women.49
 * And – the quest for perfect truth should take the back-seat to combating violence**

Bleiker, 2005 (Roland, Professor of International Relations, pHD from the Australian National University, “Divided Korea: Toward A Culture of Reconciliation,” p. 36-38, TH) I will pay particular attention the role of the United States, for nothing about the past and present dilemmas on the peninsula can be addressed or even understood without recourse to the United States. This is why China repeatedly stressed that the latest nuclear crisis was primarily an issue between North Korea and the United States.4 Kim Dae-jung, in his final speech as South Korea’s presi- dent, reiterated the same theme: “more than anything, dialogue between North Korea and the United States is the important key to a solution.”5 A solution is, however, far from imminent. Both the United States and North Korea see each other as a threat. And each has good reason for doing so. But each is also implicated in the pro- duction of this threat. The problem is that these interactive dynam- ics are hard to see, for the West tends to project a very one-sided image of North Korea, one that sees it solely as a rogue and thus a source of danger and instability. Nicholas Eberstadt, for instance, stresses that “North Korean policies and practices have accounted for most of the volatility within the Northeast Asian region since the end of the Cold War.”6 The deeply entrenched image of North Korea as a rogue state is part of an identity-driven political attitude that severely hinders both an adequate understanding and potential resolution of the crisis. The rhetoric of rogue states is indicative of how U.S. foreign policy continues to be dominated by dualistic and militaristic Cold War thinking patterns. The “evil empire” may be gone but not the underlying need to define safety and security with reference to an external threat. Rogues are among the new threat perceptions that serve to demarcate the line between good and evil, identity and difference. As during the Cold War, building up a strong military arsenal is viewed as the key means through which this line is to be defended. In the absence of a global power that matches the United States, this militaristic attitude has, if anything, intensified. Look at Washington’s recent promulgation of a preemptive strike policy against rogue states. The consequences of this posture are particu- larly fateful in Korea, for it reinforces half a century of explicit and repeated nuclear threats against the government in Pyongyang. The effect of these threats has been largely obscured, in part because the highly specialized discourse of security analysis has managed to at- tribute responsibility for the crisis solely to North Korea’s actions, even if the situation is in reality far more complex and interactive. Drawing attention to the interactive dimension of security dynam- ics, and the role of the United States in it, is not to absolve North Korea of responsibility. Pyongyang bears perhaps the lion’s share for much of the culture of insecurity that still persists on the penin- sula. Over fifty years it has committed at least a dozen terrorist acts, from bombings of civilian airliners to tunnel and submarine infiltrations across the DMZ, not to speak of countless other provo- cations and verbal aggressions. The production of crises has become a hallmark of North Korean politics, designed both to fortify its authoritarian rule and to win concessions from the international community. But this does not mean developments take place in a vacuum. Indeed, in an almost mirror image of North Korea’s vili- fied brinkmanship tactic, the U.S. administration under President George W. Bush has embarked on a form of crisis diplomacy that explicitly generates threats in order to improve its negotiation position and force its opponent into submission.
 * Threat construction only fuels the conflict**

Mack, 88 (John E., M.D. an American psychiatrist, writer, and professor at Harvard Medical School. He was a Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer. “The Enemy System” 1988. http://www.johnemackinstitute.org/passport/enemysystem.html, MT) The threat of nuclear annihilation has stimulated us to try to understand what it is about mankind that has led to such self-destroying behavior. Central to this inquiry is an exploration of the adversarial relationships between ethnic or national groups. It is out of such enmities that war, including nuclear war should it occur, has always arisen. Enmity between groups of people stems from the interaction of psychological, economic, and cultural elements. These include fear and hostility (which are often closely related), competition over perceived scarce resources,[3] the need for individuals to identify with a large group or cause,[4] a tendency to disclaim and assign elsewhere responsibility for unwelcome impulses and intentions, and a peculiar susceptibility to emotional manipulation by leaders who play upon our more savage inclinations in the name of national security or the national interest. A full understanding of the "enemy system"[3] requires insights from many specialities, including psychology, anthropology, history, political science, and the humanities. In their statement on violence[5] twenty social and behavioral scientists, who met in Seville, Spain, to examine the roots of war, declared that there was no scientific basis for regarding man as an innately aggkressive animal, inevitably committed to war. The Seville statement implies that we have real choices. It also points to a hopeful paradox of the nuclear age: threat of nuclear war may have provoked our capacity for fear-driven polarization but at the same time it has inspired unprecedented efforts towards cooperation and settlement of differences without violence. The Real and the Created Enemy: Attempts to explore the psychological roots of enmity are frequently met with responses on the following lines: "I can accept psychological explanations of things, but my enemy is real. The Russians [or Germans, Arabs, Israelis, Americans] are armed, threaten us, and intend us harm. Furthermore, there are real differences between us and our national interests, such as competition over oil, land, or other scarce resources, and genuine conflicts of values between our two nations. It is essential that we be strong and maintain a balance or superiority of military and political power, lest the other side take advantage of our weakness". This argument does not address the distinction between the enemy threat and one's own contribution to that threat-by distortions of perception, provocative words, and actions. In short, the enemy is real, but we have not learned to understand how we have created that enemy, or how the threatening image we hold of the enemy relates to its actual intentions. "We never see our enemy's motives and we never labor to assess his will, with anything approaching objectivity".[6] Individuals may have little to do with the choice of national enemies. Most Americans, for example, know only what has been reported in the mass media about the Soviet Union. We are largely unaware of the forces that operate within our institutions, affecting the thinking of our leaders and ourselves, and which determine how the Soviet Union will be represented to us. Ill-will and a desire for revenge are transmitted from one generation to another, and we are not taught to think critically about how our assigned enemies are selected for us. In the relations between potential adversarial nations there will have been, inevitably, real grievances that are grounds for enmity. But the attitude of one people towards another is usually determined by leaders who manipulate the minds of citizens for domestic political reasons which are generally unknown to the public. As Israeli sociologist Alouph Haveran has said, in times of conflict between nations historical accuracy is the first victim.[8] The Image of the Enemy and How We Sustain It: Vietnam veteran William Broyles wrote: "War begins in the mind, with the idea of the enemy."[9] But to sustain that idea in war and peacetime a nation's leaders must maintain public support for the massive expenditures that are required. Studies of enmity have revealed susceptibilities, though not necessarily recognized as such by the governing elites that provide raw material upon which the leaders may draw to sustain the image of an enemy.[7,10] Freud[11] in his examination of mass psychology identified the proclivity of individuals to surrender personal responsibility to the leaders of large groups. This surrender takes place in both totalitarian and democratic societies, and without coercion. Leaders can therefore designate outside enemies and take actions against them with little opposition. Much further research is needed to understand the psychological mechanisms that impel individuals to kill or allow killing in their name, often with little questioning of the morality or consequences of such actions. Philosopher and psychologist Sam Keen asks why it is that in virtually every war "The enemy is seen as less than human? He's faceless. He's an animal"." Keen tries to answer his question: "The image of the enemy is not only the soldier's most powerful weapon; it is society's most powerful weapon. It enables people en masse to participate in acts of violence they would never consider doing as individuals".[12] National leaders become skilled in presenting the adversary in dehumanized images. The mass media, taking their cues from the leadership, contribute powerfully to the process. The image of the enemy as less than human may be hard to dislodge. For example, a teacher in the Boston area reported that during a high school class on the Soviet Union a student protested: "You're trying to get us to see them as people". Stephen Cohen and other Soviet experts have noted how difficult it is to change the American perception of the Soviet Union, despite the vast amount of new information contradicting old stereotypes." Bernard Shaw in his preface to Heartbreak House, written at the end of World War I, observed ironically: "Truth telling is not compatible with the defense of the realm". Nations are usually created out of the violent defeat of the former inhabitants of a piece of land or of outside enemies, and national leaders become adept at keeping their people's attention focused on the threat of an outside enemy.[14] Leaders also provide what psychiatrist Vamik Volkan called "suitable targets of externalization"[10] – i.e., outside enemies upon whom both leaders and citizens can relieve their burdens of private defeat, personal hurt, and humiliation.[15] All-embracing ideas, such as political ideologies and fixed religious beliefs act as psychological or cultural amplifiers. Such ideologies can embrace whole economic systems, such as socialism or capitalism, or draw on beliefs that imply that a collectivity owes its existence to some higher power in the universe. It was not Stalin as an individual whom Nadezhda Mandelstam blamed for the political murder of her poet husband Osip and millions of other citizens but the "craving for an all-embracing idea which would explain everything in the world and bring about universal harmony at one go”.[16] Every nation, no matter how bloody and cruel its beginnings, sees its origins in a glorious era of heroes who vanquished less worthy foes. One's own race, people, country, or political system is felt to be superior to the adversary's, blessed by a less worthy god. The nuclear age has spawned a new kind of myth. This is best exemplified by the United States' strategic defense initiative. This celestial fantasy offers protection from attack by nuclear warheads, faith here being invested not in a god but in an anti-nuclear technology of lasers, satellites, mirrors, and so on in the heavens.Individual Group Linkages and Lessons in Childhood: To find out the source of hatred or antagonism we need to understand the complex relationship between the psychology of the individual, and the national group.[17] We can start by examining how enmity develops in childhood. In the first year of life a child begins to have a sense of self,[18] which includes the ability to distinguish between familiar people with whom he or she feels comfortable and those who are strangers or are felt to be alien. The small child's ability to distinguish between friends and strangers[19] is accompanied by thought patterns that tend to divide people and things into good and bad, safe and unsafe. It is out of such primitive thinking that the structures of enmity later grow. In the second year the child learns that ill-will directed towards those upon whom he is dependent is dangerous to his own well-being. He develops, therefore, mechanisms such as displacement and externalization which allow him to disown such negative impulses. Grandparents and parents may pass on to their children stories of the designated enemy groups' evil actions so that chosen displacements persist from one generation to another. From the drawings and comments of children in Germany, the United States, Central America, and Samoa, Hesse showed that by age five a child understands the idea of an enemy, which he or she will depict as whatever in the culture seems most immediately fearful or threatening-a monster, wild animal, or bad man.[20] By age eight a child understands that "the idea of the enemy" has to do with an unfriendly relationship. But this idea does not usually become cast in political terms until age ten to twelve. It is noteworthy that Hesse's research children, including the older ones, tend not to see their own country as bad or responsible for bad actions. The small child's sense of helplessness is accompanied by a feeling of vulnerability and awareness of dependence on others. The formation of relationships or alliances with other individuals and groups, beginning with family members and extending to the neighborhood, classroom, school playground, and teenage youth group, is an important strategy for gaining a sense of power. Such alliances are the prototype for later political relationships. All of these primitive, or child-like, mechanisms provide fertile soil for political leaders in real life interethnic or international conflicts. Nationalistic slogans and media manipulation focus the child's mind (or the child-mind of the adult) on the peoples or system he is supposed to hate or fear (Jews, Arabs, capitalists, or communists). In the United States patriotic recruitment is accompanied by commercial profiteering-for example, robotic war toys designed to kill communists.[21] The extraordinary dimensions of the nuclear threat have also spawned examples of apocalyptic thinking, in which the world is divided into forces of good and evil, and the belief that, in the event of a nuclear holocaust, the good would be saved and the evil would perish. In such thinking the primitive, polarizing tendencies of the child's mind are all too evident. Creating a Safer World: Hesse's finding that even older children do not perceive their own country's responsibility for states of enmity is in accord with those of psychologists and social scientists - that there is no self-awareness or self-responsibility at the political level which corresponds to the awareness of personal responsibility with which we are familiar in a clinical setting." In political life, the assignment of blame, disclaiming of responsibility, and the denial of one's own nation's contribution to tensions and enmity are the norm.[23] The first task, therefore, is to apply the insights of the behavioral sciences to create a new expectation of political self-responsibility. Nuclear weapons have connected all the peoples of the earth. Not only the nuclear superpowers but also all peoples are now interdependent and mutually vulnerable. Nations may have conflicting values but they cannot afford to have enemies. Education in elementary and secondary schools that reflects this new reality should be our highest priority. Instead of constant blaming of the other side, we need to give new attention to the adversary's culture and history, to his real intentions as well as his hopes, dreams, and values. To understand is not to forgive, but awareness and knowledge could lead to a more realistic appreciation of who has contributed what to the problems and tensions that exist in the world. Young people should be taught in their homes and schools how to identify and resist ideological propaganda. In the nuclear age we need to redefine hackneyed ideas such as national security or the national interest. just as we can no longer afford enemies, there is no longer such a notion as national security. The security of each depends on the other, and the communication of this reality must become a major focus of our educational system.
 * Threats real is not responsive – psychological manipulation by politicans means acting on threat perceptions makes war inevitable**

Joanna Montgomery Byles Undergraduate studies at the University of London and University of Syracuse, USA (B.A. 1967), graduate studies at the Syracuse University, USA. (M.A. 1969 and Ph.D. 1978 Department of English Studies University of Cyprus Psychoanalysis and War: The Superego and Projective Identification http://www.clas.ufl.edu/ipsa/journal/articles/art_byles01.shtml 2003 It is here of course that language plays an important role in imagining the other, the other within the self, and the other as self, as well as the enormously influential visual images each group can have of the other. In the need to emphasize similarity in difference, both verbal and visual metaphor can play a meaningful role in creating a climate for peaceful understanding, and this is where literature, especially the social world of the drama and of film, but also the more private world of poetry, can be immensely significant. Of course not all literature is equally transparent. In conclusion, war, in all its manifestations, is a phenomenon put into action by individuals who have been politicized as a group to give and receive violent death, to appropriate the enemy's land, homes, women, children, and goods, and perhaps to lose their own. As we have seen, in wartime the splitting of the self and other into friend and enemy enormously relieves the normal psychic tension caused by human ambivalence when love and hate find two separate objects of attention. Hence the .soldier's and terrorist's willingness to sacrifice her/his life for "a just cause," which may be a Nation, a Group, or a Leader with whom he has close emotional ties and identity. In this way s/he does not feel guilty: the destructive impulses, mobilised by her/his own superego, together with that of the social superego, have projected the guilt s/he might feel at killing strangers onto the enemy. In other words, the charging of the enemy with guilt by which the superego of the State mobilizes the individual's superego seems to be of fundamental importance in escaping the sense of guilt which war provokes in those engaged in the killing; yet the mobilization of superego activities can still involve the individual's self-punitive mechanisms, even though most of his/her guilt has been projected onto the enemy in the name of his own civilization and culture. As we all know, this guilt can become a problem at the end of a war, leading to varying degrees of misery and mental illness. For some, the killing of an enemy and a stranger cannot be truly mourned, and there remains a blank space, an irretrievable act or event to be lived through over and over again. This dilemma is poignantly expressed in Wilfred Owen's World War One poem "Strange Meeting" the final lines of which read as follows: I am the enemy you killed, my friend. I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed. I parried; but my hands were loath and cold. Let us sleep now. ... (Owen 126) The problem for us today is how to create the psychological climate of opinion, a mentality, that will reject war, genocide, and terrorism as viable solutions to internal and external situations of conflict; to recognize our projections for what they are: dangerously irresponsible psychic acts based on superego hatred and violence. We must challenge the way in which the State superego can manipulate our responses in its own interests, even take away our subjectivities. We should acknowledge and learn to displace the violence in ourselves in socially harmless ways, getting rid of our fears and anxieties of the other and of difference by relating and identifying with the other and thus creating the serious desire to live together in a peaceful world. What seems to be needed is for the superego to regain its developmental role of mitigating omniscient protective identification by ensuring an intact, integrated object world, a world that will be able to contain unconscious fears, hatred, and anxieties without the need for splitting and projection. As Bion has pointed out, omnipotence replaces thinking and omniscience replaces learning. We must learn to link our internal and external worlds so as to act as a container of the other's fears and anxieties, and thus in turn to encourage the other to reciprocate as a container of our hatreds and fears. If war represents cultural formations that in turn represent objectifications of the psyche via the super-ego of the individual and of the State, then perhaps we can reformulate these psychic social mechanisms of projection and superego aggression. Here, that old peace-time ego and the reparative component of the individual and State superego will have to play a large part. The greater the clash of cultural formations for example, Western Modernism and Islamic Fundamentalismthe more urgent the need. "The knowledge now most worth having" is an authentic way of internalizing what it is we understand about war and international terrorism that will liberate us from the history of our collective traumatic past and the imperatives it has imposed on us. The inner psychic world of the individual has an enormously important adaptive role to play here in developing mechanisms of protective identification not as a means of damaging and destroying the other, but as a means of empathy, of containing the other, and in turn being contained. These changes may be evolutionary rather than revolutionary, gradual ratherthan speedy. Peace and dare I say it contentment are not just an absence of war, but a state of mind. Furthermore, we should learn not to project too much into our group, and our nation, for this allows the group to tyrannize us, so that we follow like lost sheep. But speaking our minds takes courage because groups do not like open dissenters. These radical psychic changes may be evolutionary rather than revolutionary, gradual rather than speedy; however, my proposition that understanding the other so that we can reduce her/his motivation to kill requires urgent action. Peace is not just an absence of war, but a state of mind and, most importantly, a way of thinking.
 * Focusing on psychological motives for war is key**

Der Derian 05 (James, “National Security: An Accident Waiting to Happen,” Harvard International Review 27.3, p. 83) It often takes a catastrophe to reveal the illusory beliefs we continue to harbor in national and homeland security. To keep us safe, we place our faith in national borders and guards, bureaucracies and experts, technologies and armies. These and other instruments of national security are empowered and legitimated by the assumption that it falls upon the sovereign country to protect us from the turbulent state of nature and anarchy that permanently lies in wait offshore and over the horizon for the unprepared and inadequately defended. But this parochial fear, posing as a realistic worldview, has recently taken some very hard knocks. Prior to September 11, 2001, national borders were thought to be necessary and sufficient to keep our enemies at bay; upon entry to Baghdad, a virtuous triumphalism and a revolution in military affairs were touted as the best means to bring peace and democracy to the Middle East; and before Hurricane Katrina, emergency preparedness and intricate system of levees were supposed to keep New Orleans safe and dry. The intractability of disaster, especially its unexpected, unplanned, unprecedented nature, erodes not only the very distinction of the local, national, and global, but, assisted and amplified by an unblinking global media, reveals the contingent and highly interconnected character of life in general. Yet when it comes to dealing with natural and unnatural disasters, we continue to expect (and, in the absence of a credible alternative, understandably so) if not certainty and total safety at least a high level of probability and competence from our national and homeland security experts However, between the mixed metaphors and behind the metaphysical concepts given voice by US Homeland Security Director Michael Chertoff early into the Katrina crisis, there lurks an uneasy recognition that this administration--and perhaps no national government--is up to the task of managing incidents that so rapidly cascade into global events. Indeed, they suggest that our national plans and preparations for the "big one"--a force-five hurricane, terrorist attack, pandemic disease--have become part of the problem, not the solution. His use of hyberbolic terms like "ultra-catastrophe" and "fall-out" is telling: such events exceed not only local and national capabilities, but the capacity of conventional language itself. An easy deflection would be to lay the blame on the neoconservative faithful of the first term of US President George W. Bush, who, viewing through an inverted Wilsonian prism the world as they would wish it to be, have now been forced by natural and unnatural disasters to face the world as it really is--and not even the most sophisticated public affairs machine of dissimulations, distortions, and lies can close this gap. However, the discourse of the second Bush term has increasingly returned to the dominant worldview of national security, realism. And if language is, as Nietzsche claimed, a prisonhouse, realism is its supermax penitentiary. Based on linear notions of causality, a correspondence theory of truth, and the materiality of power, how can realism possibly account--let alone prepare or provide remedies--for complex catastrophes, like the toppling of the World Trade Center and attack on the Pentagon by a handful of jihadists armed with box-cutters and a few months of flight-training? A force-five hurricane that might well have begun with the flapping of a butterfly's wings? A northeast electrical blackout that started with a falling tree limb in Ohio? A possible pandemic triggered by the mutation of an avian virus? How, for instance, are we to measure the immaterial power of the CNN-effect on the first Gulf War, the Al-Jazeera-effect on the Iraq War, or the Nokia-effect on the London terrorist bombings? For events of such complex, non-linear origins and with such tightly-coupled, quantum effects, the national security discourse of realism is simply not up to the task. Worse, what if the "failure of imagination" identified by the 9/11 Commission is built into our national and homeland security systems? What if the reliance on planning for the catastrophe that never came reduced our capability to flexibly respond and improvise for the "ultra-catastrophe" that did? What if worse-case scenarios, simulation training, and disaster exercises--as well as border guards, concrete barriers and earthen levees--not only prove inadequate but might well act as force-multipliers--what organizational theorists identify as "negative synergy" and "cascading effects"--that produce the automated bungling (think Federal Emergency Management Agency) that transform isolated events and singular attacks into global disasters? Just as "normal accidents" are built into new technologies--from the Titanic sinking to the Chernobyl meltdown to the Challenger explosion--we must ask whether "ultra-catastrophes" are no longer the exception but now part and parcel of densely networked systems that defy national management; in other words, "planned disasters." What, then, is to be done? A first step is to move beyond the wheel-spinning debates that perennially keep security discourse always one step behind the global event. It might well be uni-, bi-, or multi-polar, but it is time to recognize that the power configuration of the states-system is rapidly being subsumed by a heteropolar matrix, in which a wide range of different actors and technological drivers are producing profound global effects through interconnectivity. Varying in identity, interests, and strength, these new actors and drivers gain advantage through the broad bandwidth of information technology, for networked communication systems provide the means to traverse political, economic, religious, and cultural boundaries, changing not only how we interpret events, but making it ever more difficult to maintain the very distinction of intended from accidental events. According to the legal philosopher of Nazi Germany, Carl Schmitt, when the state is unable to deliver on its traditional promissory notes of safety, security, and well-being through legal, democratic means, it will necessarily exercise the sovereign “exception:” declaring a state of emergency, defining friend from foe, and, if necessary, eradicating the threat to the state. But what if the state, facing the global event, cannot discern the accidental from the intentional? An external attack from an internal auto-immune response? The natural as opposed to the “planned disaster”? The enemy within from the enemy without? We can, as the United States has done since September 11, continue to treat catastrophic threats as issues of national rather than global security, and go it alone. However, once declared, bureaucratically installed, and repetitively gamed, national states of emergency grow recalcitrant and become prone to even worse disasters. As Paul Virilio, master theorist of the war machine and the integral accident once told me: “The full-scale accident is now the prolongation of total war by other means.”
 * This unveils a larger truth - security experts can’t keep us safe - the ideological apparatus of realism escalates all problems into global disaster**

David Grondin, Masters in Political Science and Ph.D. Candidate – University of Ottawa, 2004, (“(Re)Writing the ‘National Security State,’ Center for United States Studies, p. 12-17) Approaches that deconstruct theoretical practices in order to disclose what is hidden in the use of concepts such as “national security” have something valuable to say. Their more reflexive and critically-inclined view illustrates how terms used in realist discourses, such as state, anarchy, world order, revolution in military affairs, and security dilemmas, are produced by a specific historical, geographical and socio-political context as well as historical forces and social relations of power (Klein, 1994: 22). Since realist analysts do not question their ontology and yet purport to provide a neutral and objective analysis of a given world order based on military power and interactions between the most important political units, namely states, realist discourses constitute a political act in defense of the state. Indeed, “[…] it is important to recognize that to employ a textualizing approach to social policy involving conflict and war is not to attempt to reduce social phenomena to various concrete manifestations of language. Rather, it is an attempt to analyze the interpretations governing policy thinking. And it is important to recognize that policy thinking is not unsituated” (Shapiro, 1989a: 71). Policy thinking is practical thinking since it imposes an analytic order on the “real world ”, a world that only exists in the analysts’ own narratives. In this light, Barry Posen’s political role in legitimizing American hegemonic power and national security conduct seems obvious: U.S. command of the commons provides an impressive foundation for selective engagement. It is not adequate for a policy of primacy. […] Command of the commons gives the United States a tremendous capability to harm others. Marrying that capability to a conservative policy of selective engagement helps make U.S. military power appear less threatening and more tolerable. Command of the commons creates additional collective goods for U.S. allies. These collective goods help connect U.S. military power to seemingly prosaic welfare concerns. U.S. military power underwrites world trade, travel, global telecommunications, and commercial remote sensing, which all depend on peace and order in the commons” (Posen, 2003: 44 and 46). Adopting a more critical stance, David Campbell points out that “[d]anger is not an objective condition. It (sic) is not a thing which exists independently of those to whom it may become a threat. […] Nothing is a risk in itself; [...] it all depends on how one analyses the danger, considers the event” (Campbell, 1998: 1-2). In the same vein, national security discourse does not evaluate objective threats; rather, it is itself a product of historical processes and structures in the state and society that produces it. Whoever has the power to define security is then the one who has the authority to write legitimate security discourses and conduct the policies that legitimize them. The realist analysts and state leaders who invoke national security and act in its name are the same individuals who hold the power to securitize threats by inserting them in a discourse that frames national identity and freezes it.9 Like many concepts, realism is essentially contested. In a critical reinterpretation of realism, James Der Derian offers a genealogy of realism that deconstructs the uniform realism represented in IR: he reveals many other versions of realism that are never mentioned in International Relations texts (Der Derian, 1995: 367). I am aware that there are many realist discourses in International Relations, but they all share a set of assumptions, such as “the state is a rational unitary actor ”, “the state is the main actor in international relations”, “states pursue power defined as a national interest”, and so on. I want to show that realism is one way of representing reality, not the reflection of reality. While my aim here is not to rehearse Der Derian’s genealogy of realism, I do want to spell out the problems with a positivist theory of realism and a correspondence philosophy of language. Such a philosophy accepts nominalism, wherein language as neutral description corresponds to reality. This is precisely the problem of epistemic realism and of the realism characteristic of American realist theoretical discourses. And since for poststructuralists language constitutes reality, a reinterpretation of realism as constructed in these discourses is called for.10 These scholars cannot refer to the “essentially contested nature of realism” and then use “realism as the best language to reflect a self-same phenomenon” (Der Derian, 1995: 374). Let me be clear: I am not suggesting that the many neorealist and neoclassical realist discourses in International Relations are not useful. Rather, I want to argue that these technicist and scientist forms of realism serve political purposes, used as they are in many think tanks and foreign policy bureaucracies to inform American political leaders. This is the relevance of deconstructing the uniform realism (as used in International Relations): it brings to light its locatedness in a hermeneutic circle in which it is unwittingly trapped (Der Derian, 1995: 371). And as Friedrich Kratochwil argues, “[…] the rejection of a correspondence theory of truth does not condemn us, as it is often maintained, to mere ‘relativism’ and/or to endless “deconstruction” in which anything goes but it leaves us with criteria that allows us to distinguish and evaluate competing theoretical creations” (Kratochwil, 2000 : 52). Given that political language is not a neutral medium that gives expression to ideas formed independently of structures of signification that sustain political action and thought, American realist discourses belonging to the neorealist or neoclassical realist traditions cannot be taken as mere descriptions of reality. We are trapped in the production of discourses in which national leaders and security speech acts emanating from realist discourses develop and reinforce a notion of national identity as synonymous with national security.
 * Realism is not neutral but is discursively constructed to defend the state – those who define security decide which threats are worth combating**

Chernus 86, Ira, professor of religious studies university of Colorado at Boulder, “Dr. Strangegod: on the symbolic meaning of nuclear weapons” 1986 WM, TH Machines must inevitably see all the world as a machine: "The more a man acts on the basis of a self-image that assumes he is powerless, an impotent cog in a huge machine, the more likely he is to drift into a pattern of dehumanized thinking and action toward others."5 "We have become masters of the impersonal and the inanimate. Our energy and even our emotions have gone into things; the things serve us but come between us, changing the relationship of man to man. And the things take on an authority that men accept without protest. The impersonality is epidemic. It is almost as though we feared direct contact, almost as though the soul of man had become septic."6 Thus we find our identity not by relating to other individuals as individuals, but by seeing ourselves merely as a part of "the crowd" or "the nation," whose emblem and savior is the Bomb, the ultimate machine. We lose the subtleties and nuances of human complexity and see the world in absolutes, "us versus them." We view human relationships in terms of the mythic, apocalyptic vision, a vision whose ultimate promise is the annihilation of "their" machine and unlimited license for "our" machine to do whatever it wants. In fact, the ultimate goal of machine people is always to have total dominance, unlimited autonomy to manipulate the environ-ment—both human and natural—in endless technological ways. Thus the machine God also shapes our relationship with our physical and material environment, leading us to the environmental crisis that we now face. Again, the fouling of the air, water, and land was hardly begun in the nuclear age, but the symbolism of the Bomb makes it much more difficult to escape from this predicament too. Behind our callousness toward the natural realm there is not only a desire for quick and easy profit, but a more fundamental view of ourselves as radically separated from nature. In the battle of the machines to dominate the elements, we are clearly on the side of the machines—we are the machines—and this battle is seen in radically dualistic, even apocalyptic, terms. Thus, having no meaningful relationship with nature, we are free, perhaps even compelled, to manipulate it endlessly. The transformation of raw materials into manufactured goods thus becomes our primary goal and value; if the Bomb is God, then the GNP is chief of the angels. Yet our commitment to material goods as highest good may have a more complex significance. It is fostered not only by the symbol of the Bomb as divine controller, manipulator, and dominator, but also by the psychic numbing that the Bomb creates. If we dare not think about the true reality of our lives—the sword of Damocles that constantly threatens total extinction at a moment's notice—then we must divert ourselves, making the other, numbed level so complex and interesting that we shall not have time to think about the truth. And we must make ourselves so comfortable that we shall not care to deal with the danger. Thus the Bomb and the economy are interlocked not only from a strictly economic point of view (though most people do believe that more bombs are good for the economy, despite the doubts raised by economists), but also from the psychological and symbolic standpoints. The Bomb, the economy, and our lives all form parts of one interlocking machine, offering us enough satisfactions that we refuse to ask about the deeper meaning of the machine's life. When this question threatens to arise, the diversions of life as theater of the absurd and global Russian roulette are there to entertain us and soothe our doubts. Thus we desperately desire the security that we hope to gain from total domination and manipulation of our world, but we simultaneously demand the insecurity that will make life interesting and entertaining. And we certainly get this insecurity, for we have based our hopes of security on a God that, as we have seen, cannot provide it. We hope to dominate the Enemy with a weapon that by its very nature cannot offer the freedom that we seek through domination. We are caught in a vicious circle in which the quest for security can only breed the anxiety of insecurity. But machines can't feel anxiety, so it may be easier, for this reason too, to live as a machine. Finally, then, we come to treat not only the natural world and our fellow human beings as machines, but ourselves as well. We offer ourselves, our thoughts and feelings, to the machine and the nation that embodies it, and we perceive those feelings and thoughts as parts of the unreality that surrounds us: "Faced with the prospect of the destruction of mankind, we feel neither violent nor guilty, as though we were all involved in a gigantic delusion of negation of the external as well as of our internal reality." 7 We allow ourselves to be numbed, finding it the easiest way to cope with an impossible situation, and thus we commit "partial suicide," which in turn allows us to continue preparing for total suicide on a global scale. We commit ourselves to a machine that is infinitely violent and must wreak its violence on us if it is to be used on others. Therefore, as much as we fear the Enemy, we must fear ourselves in equal measure, and this fear of ourselves reinforces the numbing. So we find powerlessness attractive, even as we chase the delusion of ultimate power, for we know that this dream of ultimate power is ultimately suicidal and thus we want to perceive ourselves as weak—incapable of, or at least not responsible for, pushing the button. Caught in this contradiction, along with so many others, we escape by immersing ourselves in the air of unreality, of craziness, surrounding it all, and thus the circle is completed: at every turn, the symbolism of the Bomb as God, which makes nuclear weapons so attractive to us, reinforces the tendency toward numbing, and numbing reinforces our commitment to the Bomb as God.
 * The drive to secure solidifies identity with the state and its possession of the Bomb. We worship technology and become so desensitized that we provoke wars to make us feel safe**

Karsten Friis, UN Sector @ the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 2k [Peace and Conflict Studies 7.2, “From Liminars to Others: Securitization Through Myths,” []] The problem with societal securitization is one of representation. It is rarely clear in advance who it is that speaks for a community. There is no system of representation as in a state. Since literately anyone can stand up as representatives, there is room for entrepreneurs. It is not surprising if we experience a struggle between different representatives and also their different representations of the society. What they do share, however, is a conviction that they are best at providing (a new) order. If they can do this convincingly, they gain legitimacy. What must be done is to make the uncertain certain and make the unknown an object of knowledge. To present a discernable Other is a way of doing this. The Other is represented as an Other -- as an unified single actor with a similar unquestionable set of core values (i.e. the capital “O”). They are objectified, made into an object of knowledge, by re-presentation of their identity and values. In other words, the representation of the Other is depoliticized in the sense that its inner qualities are treated as given and non-negotiable. In Jef Huysmans (1998:241) words, there is both a need for a mediation of chaos as well as of threat. A mediation of chaos is more basic than a mediation of threat, as it implies making chaos into a meaningful order by a convincing representation of the Self and its surroundings. It is a mediation of “ontological security”, which means “...a strategy of managing the limits of reflexivity ... by fixing social relations into a symbolic and institutional order” (Huysmans 1998:242). As he and others (like Hansen 1998:240) have pointed out, the importance of a threat construction for political identification, is often overstated. The mediation of chaos, of being the provider of order in general, is just as important. This may imply naming an Other but not necessarily as a threat. Such a dichotomization implies a necessity to get rid of all the liminars (what Huysmans calls “strangers”). This is because they “...connote a challenge to categorizing practices through the impossibility of being categorized”, and does not threaten the community, “...but the possibility of ordering itself” (Huysmans 1998:241). They are a challenge to the entrepreneur by their very existence. They confuse the dichotomy of Self and Other and thereby the entrepreneur’s mediation of chaos. As mentioned, a liminar can for instance be people of mixed ethnical ancestry but also representations of competing world-pictures. As Eide (1998:76) notes: “Over and over again we see that the “liberals” within a group undergoing a mobilisation process for group conflict are the first ones to go”. The liminars threaten the ontological order of the entrepreneur by challenging his representation of Self and Other and his mediation of chaos, which ultimately undermines the legitimacy of his policy. The liminars may be securitized by some sort of disciplination, from suppression of cultural symbols to ethnic cleansing and expatriation. This is a threat to the ontological order of the entrepreneur, stemming from inside and thus repoliticizing the inside/outside dichotomy. Therefore the liminar must disappear. It must be made into a Self, as several minority groups throughout the world have experienced, or it must be forced out of the territory. A liminar may also become an Other, as its connection to the Self is cut and their former common culture is renounced and made insignificant. In Anne Norton’s (1988:55) words, “The presence of difference in the ambiguous other leads to its classification as wholly unlike and identifies it unqualifiedly with the archetypal other, denying the resemblance to the self.” Then the liminar is no longer an ontological danger (chaos), but what Huysmans (1998:242) calls a mediation of “daily security”. This is not challenging the order or the system as such but has become a visible, clear-cut Other. In places like Bosnia, this naming and replacement of an Other, has been regarded by the securitizing actors as the solution to the ontological problem they have posed. Securitization was not considered a political move, in the sense that there were any choices. It was a necessity: Securitization was a solution based on a depoliticized ontology.10 This way the world-picture of the securitizing actor is not only a representation but also made into reality. The mythical second-order language is made into first-order language, and its “innocent” reality is forced upon the world. To the entrepreneurs and other actors involved it has become a “natural” necessity with a need to make order, even if it implies making the world match the map. Maybe that is why war against liminars are so often total; it attempts a total expatriation or a total “solution” (like the Holocaust) and not only a victory on the battlefield. If the enemy is not even considered a legitimate Other, the door may be more open to a kind of violence that is way beyond any war conventions, any jus in bello. This way, securitizing is legitimized: The entrepreneur has succeeded both in launching his world-view and in prescribing the necessary measures taken against it. This is possible by using the myths, by speaking on behalf of the natural and eternal, where truth is never questioned.
 * And, the ontology of securitization creates the greatest possibilities for violence**

Neta Crawford ,PhD MA MIT, BA Brown, Prof. of poli sci at boston univ. Argument and Change in World Politics, 2002 p. 19-21 Coherent arguments are unlikely to take place unless and until actors, at least on some level, agree on what they are arguing about. The at least temporary resolution of meta-arguments- regarding the nature of the good (the content of prescriptive norms); what is out there, the way we know the world, how we decide between competing beliefs (ontology and epistemology); and the nature of the situation at hand( the proper frame or representation)- must occur before specific arguments that could lead to decision and action may take place. Meta-arguments over epistemology and ontology, relatively rare, occur in instances where there is a fundamental clash between belief systems and not simply a debate within a belief system. Such arguments over the nature of the world and how we come to know it are particularly rare in politics though they are more frequent in religion and science. Meta-arguments over the “good” are contests over what it is good and right to do, and even how we know the good and the right. They are about the nature of the good, specifically, defining the qualities of “good” so that we know good when we see it and do it. Ethical arguments are about how to do good in a particular situation. More common are meta-arguments over representations or frames- about how we out to understand a particular situation. Sometimes actors agree on how they see a situation. More often there are different possible interpretations. Thomas Homer-Dixon and Roger karapin suggest, “Argument and debate occur when people try to gain acceptance for their interpretation of the world”. For example, “is the war defensive or aggressive?”. Defining and controlling representations and images, or the frame, affects whether one thinks there is an issue at stake and whether a particular argument applies to the case. An actor fighting a defensive war is within international law; an aggressor may legitimately be subject to sanctions. Framing and reframing involve mimesis or putting forward representations of what is going on. In mimetic meta-arguments, actors who are struggling to characterize or frame the situation accomplish their ends by drawing vivid pictures of the “reality” through exaggeration, analogy, or differentiation. Representations of a situation do not re-produce accurately so much as they creatively re-present situations in a way that makes sense. “mimesis is a metaphoric or ‘iconic argumentation of the real.’ Imitating not the effectivity of events but their logical structure and meaning.” Certain features are emphasized and others de-emphasized or completely ignored as their situation is recharacterized or reframed. Representation thus becomes a “constraint on reasoning in that it limits understanding to a specific organization of conceptual knowledge.” The dominant representation delimits which arguments will be considered legitimate, framing how actors see possibities. As Roxanne Doty argues, “the possibility of practices presupposes the ability of an agent to imagine certain courses of action. Certain background meanings, kinds of social actors and relationships, must already be in place.” If, as Donald Sylvan and Stuart Thorson argue, “politics involves the selective privileging of representations, “it may not matter whether one representation or another is true or not. Emphasizing whether frames articulate accurate or inaccurate perceptions misses the rhetorical import of representation- how frames affect what is seen or not seen, and subsequent choices. Meta-arguments over representation are thus crucial elements of political argument because an actor’s arguments about what to do will be more persuasive if their characterization or framing of the situation holds sway. But, as Rodger Payne suggests, “No frame is an omnipotent persuasive tool that can be decisively wielded by norm entrepreneurs without serious political wrangling.” Hence framing is a meta-argument.
 * Thus, we must begin with representations – they determine what is and isn’t considered relevant in policy discussions**

Graeme Cheeseman, Snr. Lecturer @ New South Wales, and Robert Bruce Assoc. Prof in social sciences @ Curtin univ, ‘96 (Discourses of Danger & Dread Frontiers, p. 5-9) This goal is pursued in ways which are still unconventional in the intellectual milieu of international relations in Australia, even though they are gaining influence worldwide as traditional modes of theory and practice are rendered inadequate by global trends that defy comprehension, let alone policy. The inability to give meaning to global changes reflects partly the enclosed, elitist world of professional security analysts and bureaucratic experts, where entry is gained by learning and accepting to speak a particular, exclusionary language. The contributors to this book are familiar with the discourse, but accord no privileged place to its ‘knowledge form as reality’ in debates on defence and security. Indeed, they believe that debate will be furthered only through a long overdue critical re-evaluation of elite perspectives. Pluralistic, democratically-oriented perspectives on Australia’s identity are both required and essential if Australia’s thinking on defence and security is to be invigorated. This is not a conventional policy book; nor should it be, in the sense of offering policy-makers and their academic counterparts sets of neat alternative solutions, in familiar language and format, to problems they pose. This expectation is in itself a considerable part of the problem to be analysed. It is, however, a book about policy, one that questions how problems are framed by policy-makers. It challenges the proposition that irreducible bodies of real knowledge on defence and security exist independently of their ‘context in the world’, and it demonstrates how security policy is articulated authoritatively by the elite keepers of that knowledge, experts trained to recognize enduring, universal wisdom. All others, from this perspective, must accept such wisdom or remain outside the expert domain, tainted by their inability to comply with the ‘rightness’ of the official line. But it is precisely the official line, or at least its image of the world, that needs to be problematised. If the critic responds directly to the demand for policy alternatives, without addressing this image, he or she is tacitly endorsing it. Before engaging in the policy debate the critics need to reframe the basic terms of reference. This book, then, reflects and underlines the importance of Antonio Gramsci and Edward Said’s ‘critical intellectuals’.15 The demand, tacit or otherwise, that the policy-maker’s frame of reference be accepted as the only basis for discussion and analysis ignores a three thousand year old tradition commonly associated with Socrates and purportedly integral to the Western tradition of democratic dialogue. More immediately, it ignores post-seventeenth century democratic traditions which insist that a good society must have within it some way of critically assessing its knowledge and the decisions based upon that knowledge which impact upon citizens of such a society. This is a tradition with a slightly different connotation in contemporary liberal democracies which, during the Cold War, were proclaimed different and superior to the totalitarian enemy precisely because there were institutional checks and balances upon power. In short, one of the major differences between ‘open societies’ and their (closed) counterparts behind the Iron Curtain was that the former encouraged the critical testing of the knowledge and decisions of the powerful and assessing them against liberal democratic principles. The latter tolerated criticism only on rare and limited occasions. For some, this represented the triumph of rational-scientific methods of inquiry and techniques of falsification. For others, especially since positivism and rationalism have lost much of their allure, it meant that for society to become open and liberal, sectors of the population must be independent of the state and free to question its knowledge and power. Though we do not expect this position to be accepted by every reader, contributors to this book believe that critical dialogue is long overdue in Australia and needs to be listened to. For all its liberal democratic trappings, Australia’s security community continues to invoke closed monological narratives on defence and security. This book also questions the distinctions between policy practice and academic theory that inform conventional accounts of Australian security. One of its major concerns, particularly in chapters 1 and 2, is to illustrate how theory is integral to the practice of security analysis and policy prescription. The book also calls on policy-makers, academics and students of defence and security to think critically about what they are reading, writing and saying; to begin to ask, of their work and study, difficult and searching questions raised in other disciplines; to recognise, no matter how uncomfortable it feels, that what is involved in theory and practice is not the ability to identify a replacement for failed models, but a realisation that terms and concepts – state sovereignty, balance of power, security, and so on – are contested and problematic, and that the world is indeterminate, always becoming what is written about it. Critical analysis which shows how particular kinds of theoretical presumptions can effectively exclude vital areas of political life from analysis has direct practical implications for policy-makers, academics and citizens who face the daunting task of steering Australia through some potentially choppy international waters over the next few years. There is also much of interest in the chapters for those struggling to give meaning to a world where so much that has long been taken for granted now demands imaginative, incisive reappraisal. The contributors, too, have struggled to find meaning, often despairing at the terrible human costs of international violence. This is why readers will find no single, fully formed panacea for the world’s ills in general, or Australia’s security in particular. There are none. Every chapter, however, in its own way, offers something more than is found in orthodox literature, often by exposing ritualistic Cold War defence and security mind-sets that are dressed up as new thinking. Chapters 7 and 9, for example, present alternative ways of engaging in security and defence practice. Others (chapters 3, 4, 5, 6 and 8) seek to alert policy-makers, academics and students to alternative theoretical possibilities which might better serve an Australian community pursuing security and prosperity in an uncertain world. All chapters confront the policy community and its counterparts in the academy with a deep awareness of the intellectual and material constraints imposed by dominant traditions of realism, but they avoid dismissive and exclusionary terms which often in the past characterized exchanges between policy-makers and their critics. This is because, as noted earlier, attention needs to be paid to the words and the thought processes of those being criticized. A close reading of this kind draws attention to underlying assumptions, showing they need to be recognized and questioned. A sense of doubt (in place of confident certainty) is a necessary prelude to a genuine search for alternative policies. First comes an awareness of the need for new perspectives, then specific policies may follow. As Jim George argues in the following chapter, we need to look not so much at contending policies as they are made for us but at challenging ‘the discursive process which gives [favoured interpretations of “reality”] their meaning and which direct [Australia’s] policy/analytical/military responses’. This process is not restricted to the small, official defence and security establishment huddled around the US-Australian War Memorial in Canberra. It also encompasses much of Australia’s academic defence and security community located primarily though not exclusively within the Australian National University and the University College of the University of New South Wales. These discursive processes are examined in detail in subsequent chapters as authors attempt to make sense of a politics of exclusion and closure which exercises disciplinary power over Australia’s security community. They also question the discourse of ‘regional security’, ‘security cooperation’, ‘peacekeeping’ and ‘alliance politics’ that are central to Australia’s official and academic security agenda in the 1990s. This is seen as an important task especially when, as is revealed, the disciplines of International Relations and Strategic Studies are under challenge from critical and theoretical debates ranging across the social sciences and humanities; debates that are nowhere to be found in Australian defence and security studies. The chapters graphically illustrate how Australia’s public policies on defence and security are informed, underpinned and legitimised by a narrowly-based intellectual enterprise which draws strength from contested concepts of realism and liberalism, which in turn seek legitimacy through policy-making processes. Contributors ask whether Australia’s policy-makers and their academic advisors are unaware of broader intellectual debates, or resistant to them, or choose not to understand them, and why?
 * This means we should change our decision calculus to prioritize epistemology because it informs policy-making**

Greg Marston, Bachelor of Social Science (QUT), PHD (UQ) Social policy and Discourse Analysis, 2k4 p. 14-15 The positivist paradigm informs an idealized rational actor understanding of the policy-making process. The rational approach to policy-making is an extension of particular forms of positivism and neo-positivism that seek to purge the social scientist of values (Bryman, 1988, p.14). This idea of reason without values is maintained through instrumental and technical rationality. Instrumental rationality in policy-making can be defined as follows: 'in any organization there might be a number of ways of reaching goals; and when faced with the need to make a choice between alternatives the rational decision maker chooses the alternative most likely to achieve the desired outcome' (Ham and Hill, 1993, p.77). The idealistic representation of policy as a form of 'rational decision making' between available choices and options is problematic for a number of reasons. The limitations of rational approaches to policy-making arise from an insufficient account of the political context, insufficient emphasis on the participants in the process (and their conflicting interests) and the 'ideal type' nature of the models themselves (Dalton et al, 1996, p.17). A positivist view of policy-making asserts policy solutions as universal truths waiting to be discovered by the so-called policy 'expert'. Hillyard and Watson (1996, p.324) argue that this perception denies the constitutive role of discourse. In short, a positivist epistemology is not an adequate position for researchers and policy analysts aiming to explore and understand how policy meanings are discursively constructed, how regulatory functions of the state are being transformed and how policy actors represent and articulate policy problems and solutions. By focusing on 'objective' outcomes and grand narratives of 'progress', 'rationality' and 'truth', we remain blind to the multifaceted nature of policy-making processes. Positivist accounts of the social world do not recognize the constructive nature of discursive processes that produce knowledge and identities, or how conflict over policy meanings is manifested within specific policy environments. While not denying the place of positivist informed research in social planning, this paradigm is limited when it comes to understanding questions of power as experienced in the production, reproduction and transformation of policy agendas. As Yanow (1996, p.6) argues. 'positivist knowledge does not give us information about meanings made by actors in a situation. When we read a policy we see more than just marks on a page. we hear more than just sound waves'. Exploring the discursive dimensions of policy-making requires alternative theoretical frameworks and epistemologies that are able to capture the processes of subjectification and the relationship between agency, identity and discourse in local policy contexts. The various strands of critical social theory and post-structuralism are areas of theorizing that offer social policy researchers different ways of thinking about language and culture.
 * This is a radical break from status quo positivism and a pre-requisite to productive debate**

Mark Neocleous, Professor of the Critique of Political Economy; Head of Department of Politics & History Brunel Univ ‘8 [Critique of Security, 185-6] The only way out of such a dilemma, to escape the fetish, is perhaps to eschew the logic of security altogether - to reject it as so ideologically loaded in favour of the state that any real political thought other than the authoritarian and reactionary should be pressed to give it up. That is clearly something that can not be achieved within the limits of bourgeois thought and thus could never even begin to be imagined by the security intellectual. It is also something that the constant iteration of the refrain 'this is an insecure world' and reiteration of one fear, anxiety and insecurity after another will also make it hard to do. But it is something that the critique of security suggests we may have to consider if we want a political way out of the impasse of security. This impasse exists because security has now become so all-encompassing that it marginalises all else, most notably the constructive conflicts, debates and discussions that animate political life. The constant prioritising of a mythical security as a political end - as the political end constitutes a rejection of politics in any meaningful sense of the term. That is, as a mode of action in which differences can be articulated, in which the conflicts and struggles that arise from such differences can be fought for and negotiated, in which people might come to believe that another world is possible - that they might transform the world and in turn be transformed. Security politics simply removes this; worse, it remoeves it while purportedly addressing it. In so doing it suppresses all issues of power and turns political questions into debates about the most efficient way to achieve 'security', despite the fact that we are never quite told - never could be told - what might count as having achieved it. Security politics is, in this sense, an anti-politics,"' dominating political discourse in much the same manner as the security state tries to dominate human beings, reinforcing security fetishism and the monopolistic character of security on the political imagination. We therefore need to get beyond security politics, not add yet more 'sectors' to it in a way that simply expands the scope of the state and legitimises state intervention in yet more and more areas of our lives. Simon Dalby reports a personal communication with Michael Williams, co-editor of the important text Critical Security Studies, in which the latter asks: if you take away security, what do you put in the hole that's left behind? But I'm inclined to agree with Dalby: maybe there is no hole."' The mistake has been to think that there is a hole and that this hole needs to be filled with a new vision or revision of security in which it is re-mapped or civilised or gendered or humanised or expanded or whatever. All of these ultimately remain within the statist political imaginary, and consequently end up reaffirming the state as the terrain of modern politics, the grounds of security. The real task is not to fill the supposed hole with yet another vision of security, but to fight for an alternative political language which takes us beyond the narrow horizon of bourgeois security and which therefore does not constantly throw us into the arms of the state. That's the point of critical politics: to develop a new political language more adequate to the kind of society we want. Thus while much of what I have said here has been of a negative order, part of the tradition of critical theory is that the negative may be as significant as the positive in setting thought on new paths. For if security really is the supreme concept of bourgeois society and the fundamental thematic of liberalism, then to keep harping on about insecurity and to keep demanding 'more security' (while meekly hoping that this increased security doesn't damage our liberty) is to blind ourselves to the possibility of building real alternatives to the authoritarian tendencies in contemporary politics. To situate ourselves against security politics would allow us to circumvent the debilitating effect achieved through the constant securitising of social and political issues, debilitating in the sense that 'security' helps consolidate the power of the existing forms of social domination and justifies the short-circuiting of even the most democratic forms. It would also allow us to forge another kind of politics centred on a different conception of the good. We need a new way of thinking and talking about social being and politics that moves us beyond security. This would perhaps be emancipatory in the true sense of the word. What this might mean, precisely, must be open to debate. But it certainly requires recognising that security is an illusion that has forgotten it is an illusion; it requires recognising that security is not the same as solidarity; it requires accepting that insecurity is part of the human condition, and thus giving up the search for the certainty of security and instead learning to tolerate the uncertainties, ambiguities and 'insecurities' that come with being human; it requires accepting that 'securitizing' an issue does not mean dealing with it politically, but bracketing it out and handing it to the state; it requires us to be brave enough to return the gift."'
 * Security precludes the possibility of effective political action**

James B Rule, PhD Harvard, MA Oxford, BA Brandeis, The Military State of America and the Democratic Left, Dissent Vol. 57 No 1, Winter 2010 At this moment, for example, in 1984 (if it was 1984), Oceania was at war with Eurasia and in alliance with Eastasia. In no public or private utterance was it ever admitted that the three powers had at any time been grouped along different lines. Actually, as Winston well knew, it was only four years since Oceania had been at war with Eastasia and in alliance with Eurasia. But that was merely a piece of furtive knowledge which he happened to possess because his memory was not satisfactorily under control. We are not there, but the direction of movement is unmistakable. As the Iraq adventure has demonstrated, shrewd state manipulation of strategic information makes it possible to defuse criticism and discredit public skepticism, until it is too late. Many trends since Orwell's lifetime have aggravated the hazards that he anticipated. One is globalism - the growth of an ever-moretightly connected world, so that people, ideas, technologies, and even weapons move about the earth more and more readily. Such conditions can facilitate terrorism, conceivably on a scale well beyond what the world has yet witnessed. On the state side of the equation, we see the rise of vast bureaucracies dealing in essentially secret knowledge - intelligence about military matters and a host of other subjects held vital to national security, yet supposedly too sensitive for public disclosure. Mobilization of such knowledge in turn requires a high-tech establishment of civilian and military experts whose activities cannot readily be monitored by outsiders. One result is that government claims about matters of vital public concern, from weapons of mass destruction to terrorist dangers, are not easily challenged in public debate. As Orwell warned, the state may change the menu of deadly enemies from year to year but continue the same strictures on public inquiry and dissent. A few decades ago, Iraq was America's ally; more lately, it reappeared as part of the axis of evil. China rises and falls in Washington's official designations - sometimes a feared twenty-first-century competitor, more recently an ally in the quest for Asian "stability" and indispensable supporter of the U.S. economy. Pakistan under its last dictator was a stalwart participant in the so-called War on Terror. But that country could any day be redefined (with some justification) as a threat to the civilized world. Who can say with confidence what demonic qualities will be ascribed, perhaps quite accurately, to any of America's present-day allies, with the next shake of this country's foreign-policy kaleidoscope? And who can say what new military exploits, or domestic restrictions, will be proclaimed essential to repress these demons of the future? The one thing we can be sure of is that the supply of ugly movements and regimes around the world shows no sign of running short. If their sheer presence suffices to justify a hypermilitarized America and concomitant suppression of countervailing voices in domestic life, we are embarked on a long journey in the direction of 1984. There has to be a better way - as we on the democratic Left should be the first to proclaim. In a dangerous world, any course of action bears risks. No one can absolutely rule out the possibility that a steady diet of aggressive American military action abroad might forestall disasters yet unseen. Nor can anyone deny that relentless surveillance of domestic communications, or invocation of national security to rebuff all challenges to the exercise of government power could, conceivably, help block further terrorist acts on U.S. soil. But nor, for that matter, can anyone authoritatively deny that such measures might actually make matters much worse. Political programs are defined as much by the risks they are willing to accept as by the values they seek to promote. The democratic Left properly welcomes the risks of broader and deeper democracy, at home and abroad. It counsels more government openness and broader public engagement in governance, even while acknowledging that these things can go wrong. It seeks to build, however incrementally, supranational structures of authority and conflict-resolution - as against reliance on unilateral intimidation and worse. It refuses to let American fixation on worldwide dominance to serve as an excuse for not building a strong nation at home - that is, for neglecting health, employment, environmental responsibility, and education. We on the democratic Left must be quick to take risks on behalf of these ends - because the alternative risks of endless, deadly international conflict and narrowing attention to domestic well-being are far more alarming.
 * Status quo epistemologies make accurate policy assessment impossible – the military industrial complex has a monopoly on deliberation**

James B Rule, PhD Harvard, MA Oxford, BA Brandeis, The Military State of America and the Democratic Left, Dissent Vol. 57 No 1, Winter 2010 So what can the democratic Left offer as an alternative to the endless agenda of American world domination? We could well begin with an extremely modest proposal: retooling the United States as a normal country. Normal, that is to say, by comparison to other prosperous democratic societies. Just to get the ball rolling, consider reducing the proportion of American GDP devoted to military purposes by half - to roughly three hundred billion dollars per year, or about 10 percent of the national budget. Included in this reduction should be all unacknowledged expenditures for services of mercenaries and other off-the-books manifestations of U.S. militarism. This would still leave the United States as one of the most heavily militarized countries in the world. But it would also make vast resources available for more constructive purposes, ranging from universal medical coverage for Americans to investment in renewable energy to support of global initiatives to control of curable diseases in the world's poorest countries. The outrage at any such suggestion is predictable. What about the evils, dangers and conspiracies that constantly threaten this country? We've got Muslim fundamentalism, a resurgent China, failed states, nuclear proliferation ... We've got, we've got ... !slamo -fascismi The United States leads the world against these enemies of civilization. You're proposing abandonment of our allies, disengagement from the rest of the world - indeed, isolationism! One thinks of the desperate rationalizations of a morbidly obese person contemplating gentle suggestions for a diet: "Don't make me do it! I might wither away and die of starvation!" This modest proposal in no way requires categorical disengagement from global concerns. Under it, America would remain a major military power. It would allow ample resources to counteract violent threats to American wellbeing, both foreign and domestic. But halving our military budget would encourage longoverdue national debate about the wisest uses of this country's substantial remaining military resources. Most important, a lurch toward normalcountry status would make it easier for America and Americans to support one of the most significant recent trends in global affairs. These are the subtle shifts toward attenuation of exclusive prerogatives of states in general - in favor of other forms of global authority. Signs of these changes include efforts to create international authority over war crimes; the willingness of national courts to indict and prosecute highly placed human rights violators in other countries, notwithstanding claims of sovereign immunity; and the rising role of NGOs and other grassroots actors in challenging human rights violations and other atrocities. Very incrementally, states are losing their unchallenged monopoly to exert large-scale coercion. Neoconservatives will of course deride such tentative developments as insignificant in juxtaposition to the fixed and eternal (as they see them) forces of realpolitik. But in fact, these trends could hold the keys to curtailing the vast toll of state-sponsored violence that reached its climax - at least, we hope - in the twentieth century. We on the democratic left should be first to support such changes. Sometimes recourse to force is inevitable. In international affairs, as in civil life, some particularly destructive personalities and processes can only be blocked with coercion. Confronted by mass killings, unilateral invasion, imminent threat to one's own territory, widespread ethnic cleansing, and other preventable disasters, all nations should be prepared to act together in response. And the United States should play its part—no more, no less. But let us never believe the neocons and their allies, for whom all interventions are of a piece. That was the appeal of the liberal hawks, as they canvassed for support for the war at its outset: if you liked American-sponsored peacekeeping in Bosnia, what objection could there be to a reprise of that operation in Iraq? By now, nearly everyone realizes what more thoughtful commentators noted in 2002. The aims and the scale of military efforts were vastly different in these two cases. The Bosnian operation aimed at separating antagonists, stopping massive ethnic cleansing, and forcing the Bosnian Serbs into a peace agreement. The invasion of Iraq sought extirpation of an entrenched regime, followed by top-to-bottom remaking of the country's political institutions and practices. Above all, America has to get over the fantastical fixation on its status as the world's master military enforcer, both the obsession with maintaining that status and the frightening conviction of moral superiority that seems to go along with it. Most dangerous of all is the view of America as some sort of avenging angel of global righteousness, such that American failure to rain down military destruction on retrograde regimes becomes tantamount to supporting them. Such logic can never be applied systematically. There are just too many unappealing regimes and movements around the world for them all to be targeted. But the availability of that idea in the language of American politics enables whoever holds sway in Washington to demonize any regime that gets in America's way as the Evil du jour, hence a legitimate target for made-in-America mayhem. And it appears, alas, that there will always be intellectuals ready to supply high-minded rationales for such efforts. Such justifications must never come from the democratic Left.
 * We must refuse the U.S.’s role as globo-cop by withdrawing from Korea as a refusal to contain rogue regimes.**


 * Plan: The United States federal government should implement a phased withdrawal of its military presence in the Republic of Korea.**

Enloe 93 – Professor in the Department of International Development, Community, and Environment at Clark University, Ph.D in Political Science from UC Berkeley (Cynthia Enloe, “The Morning After: Sexual Politics at the End of the Cold War” p. 21-31 MT) It is a misplaced hope. For the significant work now being done on masculinity is not a repopulating of the political landscape with men in the name of postmodernism. Rather, those conducting the valuable investigations of masculinity start from the essential feminist discovery that we can make sense of men's gendered reactions only if we take women's experiences seriously. Indeed, the more we have learned about the deliberate efforts to circumscribe women's behavior, the more we have exposed the human decision making that undergirds much of masculinity. We don't yet have feminist-informed studies of such male-dominated institutions as the United Nations Security Council or the Central Intelligence Agency. But the day when we will may not be far off. Already we have a Canadian feminist's analysis of the International Labor Organization.17 And there are North American, European, and Japanese feminist scholars energetically at work right now charting the masculinist assumptions that have guided the distinctively post-World War II profession of international relations research.18 The 1989 revolutions in Eastern Europe brought about the dismantling of the Warsaw Pact and a surge of demilitarization. But although Polish, Czech, Hungarian, East German, and Romanian women played central roles in the grass-roots organizing that made the eventual upheavals possible, this demilitarization was not guided by feminist insights into the causes of militarization.19 In a mirror image of Western anti-Communist regimes' needing the symbol of the overworked, "unfeminine" Soviet or Polish woman to justify their Cold War policies, the Communist regimes had depended on feminism's being so tainted by its association with Western bourgeois individualism that no woman in their own nations would be inspired by feminist analyses or aspirations. Without the image of the self-absorbed, materialistic, man-hating Western feminist to combat, the restlessness of women in Eastern Europe might have translated into gender-conscious political action much earlier. Olga Havel might have become famous in her own right rather than as an imprisoned playwright's loyal wife. But, unlike the revolutions in Eritrea and Nicaragua, most of those in Eastern Europe were informed by only the faintest glimmers of organized feminist consciousness. Thus, men were not challenged to rethink their own masculinist presumptions about power or public life until after the Communist regimes had crumbled. East Germany initially appeared to provide a contrast. Cities such as Berlin, Dresden, and Weimar were the sites of feminist organizing in 1989. 20 It often appeared ahead of male-led organizing because the regime was preoccupied with monitoring the masculinized coffee houses and universities and thus was caught unprepared for the political activism that flowed out of the theaters and the churches, sites of women's organizing. During those turbulent autumn months, women's groups presented detailed platforms, built diverse umbrella organizations, and mobilized thousands of women in public rallies. For a while they couldn't be ignored by the male contestants for power. They wedged their way into the bargaining rooms and into the transitional regime. But even these consciously feminist women of East Germany couldn't direct the course of the next stage, the government-to-government bargaining sessions that ultimately produced German reunification. Whereas the bringing down of the old regime had been a process shaped by struggles between politicized women and men in East Germany, German reunification was a virtually all-male political process. Soon after, many East German women joined many East German men in voting for Helmut Kohl's Christian Democratic Party, with its promises of material wellbeing and free markets. Those few feminists who warned that reunification without feminist guarantees could be a disaster for women were seen as out of step. Even they might have found it hard to believe that, within two years after reunification, 12 percent of single mothers in eastern Germany would be among the ranks of the unemployed.21 Democratization and demilitarization have commonly been presumed to serve women's interests. Demilitarization loosens the bond between men and the state; thus, it should make the state more transparent and porous. Democratization simultaneously opens up the public spaces; thus, it should permit more voices to be heard and policy agendas to be reimagined. But such changes will take place only if the two processes are not designed in such a way as to reprivilege masculinity. The democratic elections of 1990 in Eastern Europe revealed the tenacity of patriarchy. The results of these elections made invisible women's contributions to creating the conditions that made these elections possible: ·The percentage of women in Czechoslovakia's parliament dropped from 29.3 to 8.6. ·The percentage of women in Poland's parliament dropped from 20.2 to 13.5. ··The percentage of women in Hungary's parliament plummeted from 26.6 to 7.2. ·In the pre-reunification election of March 1990, the percentage of women in East Germany's parliament slipped from 33.6 to 20.5; parliamentary elections in December for a unified German legislature managed to return the same proportion of women, 20.5 percent. ·· The percentage of women in Romania's parliament fell from 34.4 to 5.5. 22 It is not that those Cold War legislatures in which Eastern European women had held a quarter or a third of the seats had wielded effective influence. They hadn't. But that may be the point. Demilitarization and democratization together infused these once drab and impotent bodies with new vitality and new power. Legislatures became places where one could give meaningful voice to public concerns. Even in Poland, where a conservative woman has been made prime minister, the legislative agenda which assigns priority to restricting Polish women's freedom of reproductive choice is being hammered out with little organized influence by Polish women.23 If a man had never felt comfortable spending his waking hours fixing his car or building a garden shed, now he had an alternative outlet for his energies. It was precisely because the legislatures were transformed by the end of the Cold War that they became, in many men's eyes, worthy loci for re-emergent civic activism. Legislatures became thereby places too important to allow more than a handful of women. Does the democratization of parliaments equal the defeminization of parliaments? While Eastern European nations' legislatures have been masculinized, their popular cultures have been sexualized. As women have filed out of the parliaments, they have walked into proliferating beauty contests, franchised brothels, free-enterprise escort services, and joint-venture overseas marriage services. 24 Nor have they done so necessarily against their wills. Russian and Eastern European feminist social commentators who have observed the postrevolutionary traumas of the last several years explain that consumerism is being woven into the democratized fabric of civic life in ways that co-opt many women in their own objectification. "Now there are calendars full of nude women everywhere in the ministry." A Czech feminist who worked in her country's environmental affairs ministry is describing the new bureaucratic culture of post-1989 Prague. Such sexist expressions were defined as pornography and prohibited under the old regime. But with the emergence of capitalism and liberalism in the 1990s, nude women's photos on office walls have become so commonplace that most women office workers feel they have no space to object. "And imagine what it's like coming into a colleague's office to discuss a policy. You sit down and have to put your cup of coffee on a glass-topped coffee table which is displaying assorted cut-out photographs of nude women."25 Some women even seem to be taking pleasure in the widespread availability of pornography. The shriveled consumer markets of the Cold War the price paid for Cold War expenditures on bloated armies and protected weapons factories nurtured aspirations among the double-burdened women that can only now be pursued: for beauty, for pleasure, for financial security, for the marriageable man with a good income and a two-car garage. Filipina feminists allied with women working as prostitutes servicing American sailors around Subic Bay naval base learned what Eastern European feminists trying to create a nascent women's movement today are learning (and what impatient American feminists still may have to learn): any woman hoping to sow the seeds of political consciousness must take other women's desires and even fantasies seriously. Those fantasies could throw light on how political priorities constructed in one era shape women's attitudes toward themselves and the men in their lives in the following era. Writing off as merely a victim of false consciousness a Russian woman who sends her name to a new marriage service for American men risks missing a chance to gain a new understanding of how the post Cold War world is being constructed.Like militarization, demilitarization is sexualized. Men returning from wars have sexual expectations. Fathering is one form of demilitarized citizenship. A year after victory but still in desert fatigues, proud men hold up their newborn babies. No women are inside the photographer's frame. But they are more than bit players in any country's demilitarization. Other men return from war zones anxious about jobs, not just for their own well-being but with a sense of the male breadwinner's familial responsibilities. With the many-stranded winding-down of the Cold War, wars have been ending often raggedly in Angola, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Namibia, Cambodia, Afghanistan, Ethiopia, and Lebanon. Each of these wars was fueled by its own particular internal sparks its class disparities, factional rivalries, and ethnicized oppressions. But each was prolonged and made more ferocious by American and Soviet infusions of direct and indirect aid and encouragement, sometimes to the regime and sometimes to the insurgents. To end each of these Cold War proxy wars, thousands of men must be persuaded to change their ideas of what is right and natural and even pleasurable to do as men. Militarized forms of manliness may be all that some of the younger Cambodian, Lebanese, or Ethiopian men have known. The precise recipes for militarized masculinity will differ, however. Each man's willingness to hand in his grenade launcher or his combat boots and to imagine a demilitarized role for himself in his society will depend on his own experiences as a vigilante, a death squad assassin, an army conscript, a unit commander, or a nighttime civil guard. Perhaps he has been humiliated by other men and thus sees demilitarization as a chance to regain his manly dignity. Or perhaps he has felt more important in his military role than he ever did as a shopkeeper or civil servant. He may have been embarrassed in front of his buddies when he vomited every time he saw a person being wounded. Or he may have felt energized by his new license to wield violent force. Perhaps he found emotional satisfaction in a rarely felt intensity of friendship among men. Or perhaps he felt lonely, deprived of the support and comfort formerly supplied by his wife or mother. Just how a man (or adolescent boy) has experienced militarization and how willingly he sheds the habits and expectations of militarization will redound on the women he returns to. His new definition of his masculinity or his refusal to redefine his identity will be played out in his family life, in his interactions with women workmates, and in his exchanges with women who are perfect strangers. Each of these women, in turn, will be counted on, as she always has been, to coax, absorb, sacrifice, and tutor. Some women, however, may not want to give up their jobs, may not want to have another child, may have grown used to having sex only on occasional leaves, or may not think donning a veil is a proper price for peace (in the home or in the government). These women may rebel against the sorts of expectations leaders will try to impose on them in the name of post Cold War ''political stabilization." It can take years to demilitarize a society. Masculinity and femininity will be among the political territories where the struggles for demilitarization will have to be played out. Vietnamese women and men are still in the process of demilitarization, long after most Americans and Europeans have turned their attention elsewhere. During 1990-92 alone, 500,000 Vietnamese soldiers overwhelmingly male were demobilized. 26 Some had fought in the earlier war against the United States and its Saigon ally. Many were young boys then but were conscripted to fight the succeeding war in neighboring Cambodia. The conclusion of that conflict, due in large measure to the new cooperation between Washington and Moscow, has reunited husbands and wives after long separations. It has also thrown thousands of men onto the already strained Vietnamese labor market, causing the regime to feel nervous over the lack of jobs for men who believe they have made patriotic sacrifices. These scores of male veterans are searching for jobs at a time when Hanoi is cutting support to unprofitable state companies. Women's own waged work, as well as the continuing high birth rate, have thus become issues not simply of economic planning but also of demilitarization. It is no coincidence that prostitution has spread. Local Women's Federation activists are expressing alarm. Vietnamese journalists estimate that there are now one hundred thousand women working as prostitutes in Ho Chi Minh City and another thirty thousand in Hanoi.27 We often think that increasing numbers of women are pressed into prostitution because of militarization. But there are forms of demilitarization such as in Russia or Vietnam that can bring rising prostitution, as men look for new enterprises and as women are displaced from other forms of livelihood. In September 1991, the Hanoi newspaper Lao Dong reported that "hundreds of girls have been sold to brothels in Phnom Penh and southern China."28 An American reporter assigned to Phnom Penh in early 1992 went to the disco at Le Royal Hotel, only to see "swarms of Vietnamese prostitutes descend on unaccompanied men." He offhandedly speculated that, "with lighter skins and more experience than Cambodian women, they dominate the market, and apparently find Phnom Penh more profitable than Saigon."29 These articles did not explore what these Vietnamese women had done before working as prostitutes, who had transported them to Cambodia or southern China, or who owned the brothels in which some of them worked. Prostitutes were mentioned either as features on the landscape or as indicators of economic stress. Women working as prostitutes requiring radical reformations of existing state defense institutions in El Salvador, South Africa, Cambodia, and Lebanon. Every one of these new militaries will prompt government officials to make decisions about whether to recruit women, whether to inaugurate compulsory military service, how to instill discipline and enthusiasm in young men, and whether to acknowledge homosexuality in the ranks. These decisions are only the beginning. Governments creating new militaries will also make deliberate decisions about whether to manipulate masculinized ethnic stereotypes to enhance officers' authority, how to control soldiers' wives, whether to condone military prostitution with what safeguards for male soldiers and whether to turn a blind eye to wife battering within soldiers' homes. As they reach these decisions, to which existing militaries will they look to provide models? Canada? Finland? The United States? India? It is important to record which groups are invited to sit around the policymaking table when these crucial decisions are made. Whose credentials will be deemed relevant those of prostitutes? Of school teachers? Of mothers? The large industrial states are reacting to the end of the rivalry between the great powers by forecasting substantial personnel reductions "downsizing" is the American bureaucratic term. But cutting back on the number of soldiers a military needs is never a simple numerical operation. Will African-American women, who currently comprise 45 percent of all the women in the U.S. Army's rank and file, make up such a large percentage after the cuts? In the wake of the Los Angeles riots, will there be more pressures on the Pentagon to continue to serve as a major socializer of African-American men, even if this means organizing troop reductions so that more white soldiers are given early demobilization? 31 If German leaders respond to calls to end male conscription and introduce an all-volunteer force, will women be allowed to enlist in greater numbers than they are now? What about Turkish-German men? And what will happen to the peculiar relationship of Scottish men to the British army if historic Scottish regiments are merged into less regionally distinct units? If the Gurkha Brigade falls under the same British budgetary ax, will Nepali notions of masculinity undergo a profound transformation? A substantially reduced military is rarely just a smaller military. Cuts in any military's personnel usually alter significantly its relationships to the women and men in the country's various social classes and ethnic communities. Not all of the militaries being created, redesigned, or proposed are being tied to orthodox, sovereign nation-states. French and German officials have proposed the formation of a new European defense force under the aegis of the previously dormant WEU, the Western European Union. Such a force has the attraction to some of being separate from NATO and at arm's length from U.S. influence. Simultaneously, the United Nations peacekeeping forces, drawn from the militaries of its member states, are being looked upon by the governments of many industrialized and Third World countries as offering the best hope for a genuinely post Cold War, non imperialist military. Others worry that so much preoccupation with the UN's new military responsibilities will draw money and value away from the organization's less glamorous, somewhat less masculinized development efforts. Like any other institution, the United Nations is susceptible to masculinization and militarization. Thus we are entering a period of global history when perhaps more new militaries are being designed and launched than at any time since the multiplication of new states during the decolonialization of the 1950s. However, the point is not that militaries have been fixed institutions during the Cold War and are only now being projected into uncertain orbit. A military isn't like a Georgia O'Keeffe painting or an I. M. Pei building when it's done it's done. A military is forever in a state of becoming like a compost heap. The questions we must pose today to understand just what is happening in the Ukraine or South Africa are questions we should have been asking of any military in 1951 and 1985. They are questions that come out of an awareness that any government trying to use its military to sustain its domestic authority and its influence with other states will attempt to use ideas about femininity and masculinity as well as ideas about race and class to get the armed force it feels it can trust. At this moment, then, someone in the corridors of Estonia's fledgling defense ministry is mulling over whether gay men and lesbians should be allowed into the country's new military. That decision is not a foregone conclusion. It never has been a foregone conclusion not in any country's military since homosexuality became an object of explicit state manipulation in the twentieth century. So there will be memos, discussions, advice from psychologists, off-the-record anecdotes, and sly asides. Faxes will likely be sent to Brussels to ask NATO about the policies of its fifteen allies on homosexual soldiering. Back will come faxes saying that the Dutch and Canadians no longer see heterosexuality as a requisite for effective soldiering, while the Americans and British do, though with far less confidence than they did even five years ago. Of principal concern for designers of the Estonian military will no doubt be the question of whether permitting gay men and lesbians to soldier will enhance or jeopardize the new military in the eyes of the country's citizenry. Another matter for official debate will be whether a homosexual man lacks the sort of manly qualities presumed to be needed to wield a gun, follow orders, risk physical danger, and support fellow soldiers under stress. Lesbians will be considered quite differently. If the Estonian bureaucratic discussions sound at all like those in the United States, Canada, and elsewhere, then Baltic concern over lesbians will be voiced in terms of their being "too" compatible, not incompatible, with soldiering. In the London headquarters of the once-somnolent WEU, another official is having to figure out how to respond to the official referred to as Mrs. Baarveld-Schlaman. She is formally titled the vice-chairman of the WEU's Defense Committee, so she cannot be dismissed cavalierly. Mrs. Baarveld-Schlaman has submitted a formal report that surveyed the status of women in the union's member forces and found it wanting. She and her committee have looked forward to the mid-1990s, when in all probability a number of WEU forces that now rely on male conscriptionsuch as France, Germany, and Italywill have forsaken that personnel formula and moved toward volunteerism. At that point, she predicts, there will be more appreciation for the skills, educational attainments, and commitment that women can bring to soldiering. She and her colleagues urge the entire WEU not to drag its feet until that day arrives, but instead to take the initiative now to lower the barriers which are keeping the proportion of women in the military well below 10 percent throughout Western Europe. If the WEU is to play a more active role in postCold War security arrangements, it cannot afford to deprive itself of such potentially valuable "manpower." Nor can it afford to be so far out of step with changes in all other sectors of European socioeconomic life. 32 Portugal, with one of the most patriarchal of Western European militaries, is moving in the direction the report recommends. In 1992, the Portugese defense ministry cautiously opened the officer corps to women. Joana Costa Reis, a twenty-five-year-old student of modern languages, was one of the first applicants for the fifteen slots. She thought officer training would allow her to pursue her interests in camping, survival skills, and guns. She was joined by twenty-three-year-old Rosa Maria Santos, who quit her job in order to pursue a career in the army.33 At about the same time, Japan's Self-Defense Agency admitted thirty-nine women cadets into the National Defense Academy. Upon graduation, they will become the first women officers in Japan's military.34 The creation and reorganization of so many military institutions are occurring at a time when gay men and lesbians are more vocal and better organized politically in a wider array of countries than ever before. Militaries have never conducted their discussions about the sorts of sexuality they deemed best suited for soldiering under such a public gaze. Not that there is agreement among gay and lesbian activists in any country over whether military service offers a chance for homosexuals to gain first-class citizenship. What is true, however, is that discussions of such topics among gay men and lesbians have served to underscore for everyone the state-sanctioned artificiality of the heterosexualized soldier.35 Similarly, the question of how and when to use women to compensate for shortages of the kinds of men the government trusts with its weaponry can no longer be addressed within the safe confines of ministerial offices. Women officers in NATO have their own organizations. Civilian feminists, women legislators, and civil rights lawyers in the United States, Canada, and Scandinavia monitor closely their governments' responses to sexual harassment and discrimination in promotions as well as any refinements in the definition of combat. As among gay men and lesbians, however, there is no consensus among feminists about how women should regard military service. Some feminists in each of these countries see the state's military as a potential site for economic advancement and for political legitimation and never use the concept of militarism to gauge that military's impact on the social order. Other feminists start with questions about militarism. They begin their assessment of their country's military with a wary belief that a military is essentially a patriarchal institution, even if it occasionally sees fit to enlist women into its fold. 36 As each new country joins the ranks of nonconscription militaries and as governments are tempted to reach out to at least a small sector of women, these debates will grow more common. They are already going on in Italy.37 The form of military force that is inspiring perhaps the greatest hope is the United Nations peacekeeping force. It inspires optimism because it seems to perform military duties without being militaristic. And its troops at first glance appear to escape the distorting dynamics of militarism because they may not depend so heavily on patriarchal masculinity. According to one UN official, who observed UN peacekeeping soldiers in Namibia in the 1980s, local women seemed to view men soldiering under the UN's banner as less alienating, more approachable, and perhaps more trustworthy than men soldiering for any of the several rival governments. This official reported that she witnessed a higher proportion of marriages between UN soldiers and local women than she believed had occurred between, for instance, American soldiers and local women in Korea.38 To date we in fact know amazingly little about what happens to a male soldier's sense of masculine license when he dons the blue helmet or armband of the United Nations peacekeeper. The contents of formal agreements, or "codes of conduct," between the United Nations Secretary and specific host officials are kept secret. This makes it difficult, for instance, for women in a host country to find out what suppositions about male peacekeeping soldiers' sexuality are written into the code's provisions for health and policing. The crucial question may be whether soldiering for a state calls forth different notions of masculinity than soldiering for a nonstate international agency does. What exactly happens to a Canadian or Fijian male soldier's presumptions about violence, about femininity, about enemies, or about his own sexuality when he is placed in the position of maintaining peace between two warring armies? If a man can discard inclinations and presumptions with just the switch from one set of stenciled initials to another, it may mean that militarized masculinity is only shirtsleeve-deep. 39 Any United Nations peacekeeping unit whether in Bosnia, Cambodia, or Somaliais in practice a compilation of soldiers enlisted in and trained by particular states. There is no direct UN recruitment. There is no UN basic training. From the UN-sanctioned action in Korea in the 1950s through the UN-sanctioned action in the Persian Gulf in 1991, U.S. presidents refused to allow U.S. soldiers to be commanded by anyone but a U.S. officer. Only in early 1993 did President Bill Clinton permit a small group of noncombat soldiers left behind as peacekeepers in Somalia to be commanded by a non-American, a Turkish general operating under UN authority. On the other hand, there are certain governments which have quite consciously viewed UN peacekeeping as a priority mission for their soldiers, and this purpose has undoubtedly filtered down through the ranks in as yet unanalyzed ways. Ireland, Fiji, India, Ghana, Finland, and Malaysia are among the countries whose governments have routinely contributed troops to UN missions. Canada's former prime minister, Brian Mulroney, announced in early 1992 that with the end of the Cold War his country's military would see UN service as its most important function after self-defense. From the south came rumblings of displeasure. Washington officials saw the Mulroney declaration as a diversion of Canadian military resources from NATO.40 They were right. Finland's new women volunteer soldiers serve in the Finnish contingent on loan to the UN, and Australia's military has just deployed its first women soldiers to Cambodia on UN duty. Nonetheless, United Nations peacekeeping forces remain as overwhelmingly male as most state militaries. With such a composition, it must have the same sort of policies around masculinity as other, more conventional forces do. We have yet to hear how United Nations force commanders imagine male sexuality. Are the blue-helmeted men on duty in Cambodia explicitly ordered not to patronize prostitutes? What steps are taken to prevent AIDS and other forms of sexually transmitted diseases among UN peacekeepers? Each of these policies will be informed by ideas about women, about the roles women must play if a male soldier is to be able to do his job. United Nations male peacekeepers are as likely to have mothers, girlfriends, and wives as the male soldiers of any other military. Just as in those more orthodox forces, the contributions of these women are accepted as natural, even if policies are devised to ensure that they fill these roles. Nowhere was this clearer than in the New York Times 'discussion of the proposal that Britain's famed Gurkhas, the celebrated troops recruited from Nepal, should serve as the core of a genuinely nonstate United Nations peacekeeping force. 41 The advantage of this proposal was not only that the Gurkhas, being citizens of an impoverished Asian country, would cost less than Canadian or Finnish soldiers. Nor was it only that Gurkhas had established a record of battlefield competence and discipline. It was also an unstated plus that the Nepali men serving in the Gurkhas apparently didn't need the company of their wives while stationed abroad and didn't compensate for their wives' absence by engaging in alienating abuse of other countries' women. These Nepali men seemed to have learned a kind of militarized masculinity quite unlike that of their British, American, or French counterparts. While such different constructions may indeed exist and while they may make one set of men better at post Cold War international peacekeeping than another, such a proposal leaves out the women. Gurkhas have earned this reputation for celibate soldiering because of what their wives absorb, are compelled to absorb, because they live under British military policies for wives. Nepali women at home in Darjeeling, India, or in villages in the hills of Nepal construct their lives in ways that have made life easier for British defense planners. They have made it possible for the British to use their husbands in ways that have given the Gurkhas the image of the ideal post Cold War peacekeepers. 42 What is distinctive here is not the particular marriage practices of Nepali women. Rather, by making Nepali women visible we are reminded that one cannot assess which forms of masculinity are most suitable for the postCold War world unless one asks, Where are the women? The end of the superpower rivalry that has shaped the distribution of aid, the construction of fears, and the ferocity of hostilities has not made masculinity irrelevant in international relations. To make sense of how masculinity is being demilitarized and remilitarized today, one must pay attention to women and to ideas about femininity. The Australian woman soldier donning the UN's blue helmet to serve in Cambodia, the Vietnamese woman trying to find a client in Le Royal Hotel's disco, the international civil servant devising policies to bolster the morale of UN troops, the recently demobilized Khmer Rouge guerrillaall are partners in a postCold War dance.
 * Reducing Military presence is necessary but not sufficient—we must prioritize an understanding of masculinity and femininity**

Enloe 93 – Professor in the Department of International Development, Community, and Environment at Clark University, Ph.D in Political Science from UC Berkeley (Cynthia Enloe, “Bananas, Beaches and Bases” p. 11-15 MT) Making women invisible hides the workings of both femininity and masculinity in international politics. Some women watching the Iran/Contra hearings found it useful to speculate about how the politics of masculinity shape foreign-policy debates. They considered the verbal rituals that public men use to blunt the edges of their mutual antagonism. A congressman would, for instance, preface a devastating attack on Admiral Poindexter's rationale for destroying a document by reassuring the admiral and his male colleagues that he believed the admiral was 'honorable' and 'a gentleman'. Another congressman would insist that, despite his differences with Reagan officials Robert McFarlane and Oliver North, he considered them to be 'patriots'. Would these same male members of Congress, selected for this special committee partly because they had experience of dealing with military officers and foreign-policy administrators, have used the word 'honorable' if the witness had been a woman? Would 'patriot' have been the term of respect if these men had been commending a woman? There appeared to be a platform of trust holding up these investigations of US foreign policy. It was a platform that was supported by pillars of masculinity, pillars that were never subjected to political scrutiny, but which had to be maintained by daily personal exchanges, memos and formal policy. A theme that surfaced repeatedly during the weeks of the Iran/Contra hearings was 'We live in a dangerous world'. Critics as well as supporters of selling arms to Iran and using the profits to fund the Contras were in agreement on this view of the world in 1987. No one chimed in with, 'Well, I don't know; it doesn't feel so dangerous to me.' No one questioned this portrayal of the world as permeated by risk and violence. No one even attempted to redefine 'danger' by suggesting that the world may indeed be dangerous, but especially so for those people who are losing access to land or being subjected to unsafe contraceptives. Instead, the vision that informed these male officials' foreign-policy choices was of a world in which two super-powers were eyeball-to-eyeball, where small risks were justified in the name of staving off bigger risks the risk of Soviet expansion, the risk of nuclear war. It was a world in which taking risks was proof of one's manliness and therefore of one's qualification to govern. Listening to these officials, I was struck by the similarity to the 'manliness' now said to be necessary for success in the international financial markets. With Britain's 'Big Bang', which deregulated its financial industry, and with the French and Japanese deregulators following close behind, financial observers began to warn that the era of gentlemanliness in banking was over. British, European and Japanese bankers and stockbrokers would now have to adopt the more robust, competitive form of manliness associated with American bankers. It wouldn't necessarily be easy. There might even be some resistance. Thus international finance and international diplomacy seem to be converging in their notions of the world and the kind of masculinity required to wield power in that world in the 1990s. 8 At first glance, this portrayal of danger and risk is a familiar one, rooted in capitalist and Cold War ideology. But when it's a patriarchal world that is 'dangerous', masculine men and feminine women are expected to react in opposite but complementary ways. A 'real man' will become the protector in such a world. He will suppress his own fears, brace himself and step forward to defend the weak, women and children. In the same 'dangerous world' women will turn gratefully and expectantly to their fathers and husbands, real or surrogate. If a woman is a mother, then she will think first of her children, protecting them not in a manly way, but as a self-sacrificing mother. In this fashion, the 'dangerous world' evoked repeatedly in the Iran/Contra hearings is upheld by unspoken notions about masculinity. Ideas of masculinity have to be perpetuated to justify foreign-policy risk-taking. To accept the Cold War interpretation of living in a 'dangerous' world also confirms the segregation of politics into national and international. The national political arena is dominated by men but allows women some select access; the international political arena is a sphere for men only, or for those rare women who can successfully play at being men, or at least not shake masculine presumptions. Notions of masculinity aren't necessarily identical across generations or across cultural boundaries. An Oliver North may be a peculiarly American phenomenon. He doesn't have a carbon copy in current British or Japanese politics. Even the Hollywood character 'Rambo', to whom so many likened Oliver North, may take on rather different meanings in America, Britain and Japan. 9 A Lebanese Shiite militiaman may be fulfilling an explicitly masculinist mandate, but it would be a mistake to collapse the values he represents into those of a British SAS officer or an American 'Rambo'. Introducing masculinity into a discussion of international politics, and thereby making men visible as men, should prompt us to explore differences in the politics of masculinity between countries and between ethnic groups in the same country. These differences have ignited nationalist movements which have challenged the existing international order, dismantling empires, ousting foreign bases, expropriating foreign mines and factories. But there have been nationalist movements which have engaged in such world challenges without upsetting patriarchal relationships within that nation. It is important, I think, to understand which kinds of nationalist movement rely on the perpetuation of patriarchal ideas of masculinity for their international political campaigns and which kinds see redefining masculinity as integral to re-establishing national sovereignty. Women do not benefit automatically every time the international system is re-ordered by a successful nationalist movement. It has taken awareness, questioning and organizing by women inside those nationalist movements to turn nationalism into something good for women. In conventional commentaries men who wield influence in international politics are analyzed in terms of their national identities, their class origins and their paid work. Rarely are they analyzed as men who have been taught how to be manly, how to size up the trustworthiness or competence of other men in terms of their manliness. If international commentators do find masculinity interesting, it is typically when they try to make sense of 'great men' Teddy Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Mao Tset'ung not when they seek to understand humdrum plantation workers or foreign tourists. Such men's presumptions about how to be masculine in doing their jobs, exercising influence, or seeking relief from stress are made invisible. Here are some examples: In 1806 executives of the Northwest Company decided it was no longer good international company politics for their trappers to take Native Canadian women as their wives; they calculated that it was more advantageous to encourage their Canadian white male employees to import European women. That was a self-conscious use of power to reshape the relationships between women and men for the sake of achieving specific international goals. The decisions of managers in London altered the way in which Canada was integrated into the British empire. It was an imperial strategy that relied on the currencies of gender and race. 10 When US Defense Department officials insisted that the Philippines government take responsibility for conducting physical examinations of all women working in the bars around the American military bases in the Philippines, it affected the lives of thousands of young Filipinas and sent a clear message to thousands of American sailors and Air Force pilots. The message symbolized the unequal alliance between the US and Philippines governments. Its implementation rooted that government-to-government inequality in the everyday lives of American military men and Filipino working women.11 The chapters that follow explore some accepted arenas of international politics: nationalist movements, diplomacy, military expansion, international debt. However, we will examine these familiar realms from unconventional vantage points. We will listen to male nationalist leaders worrying about their women abandoning traditional feminine roles. Those masculine worries and nationalist women's responses to them will be taken as seriously as male nationalists' strategies for ousting colonial rulers. We will look at diplomacy by listening to wives of foreign-service careerists. To understand how military alliances actually work, we will consider the experiences of women who live and work around military bases and women who have camped outside those bases in protest. We will explore bankers' international operations by paying attention to women who have to live on austerity budgets or work in factories, hotels and other people's kitchens in order for government debts to be serviced. Later chapters explore areas assumed to fall outside 'international politics'. Looking at fashions in clothing and food sheds light on the relationships between affluent and developing countries. The often difficult relationships between domestic servants and the middle-class women who hire them will be examined to make sense of new trends in international politics. We will take a close look at the foreign travel of Victorian women explorers and present-day businessmen to understand how power between countries is made and challenged. We will listen to women married to diplomats in order to see to what extent governments' foreign-policy machinery depends on notions of wifely duty.
 * Continuing to act as the protector of Asia reinforces gender binaries**

Enloe 93 – Professor in the Department of International Development, Community, and Environment at Clark University, Ph.D in Political Science from UC Berkeley (Cynthia Enloe, “Bananas, Beaches and Bases” p. 61-64, MT) Nationalism has provided millions of women with a space to be international actors. To learn that one's culture But many of the nationalisms that have rearranged the pattern of world politics over the last two centuries have been patriarchal nationalisms. They have presumed that all the forces marginalizing or oppressing women have been generated by the dynamics of colonialism or neocolonialism, and hence that the pre-colonial society was one in which women enjoyed security and autonomy. Thus simply restoring the nation's independence will ensure women's liberation. Many nationalists have assumed, too, that the significance of the community's women being raped or vulgarly photographed by foreign men is that the honor of the community's men has been assaulted. And frequently they have urged women to take active roles in nationalist movements, but confined them to the roles of ego-stroking girlfriend, stoic wife or nurturing mother. Repeatedly male nationalist organizers have elevated unity of the community to such political primacy that any questioning of relations between women and men inside the movement could be labeled as divisive, even traitorous. Women who have called for more genuine equality between the sexes in the movement, in the home have been told that now is not the time, the nation is too fragile, the enemy is too near. Women must be patient, they must wait until the nationalist goal is achieved; then relations between women and men can be addressed. 'Not now, later', is the advice that rings in the ears of many nationalist women. 'Not now, later', is weighted with implications. It is advice predicated on the belief that the most dire problems facing the nascent national community are problems which can be explained and solved without reference to power relations between women and men. That is, the causes and effects of foreign investments and indebtedness can be understood without taking women's experiences seriously; foreign military bases and agribusiness-induced landlessness can be challenged without coming to grips with how each has relied on women's labor and silence; the subtle allure of cultural imperialism can be dissected without reference to masculine pride and desire. Each of these presumptions seems politically shallow. In addition, the 'not now, later' advice implies that what happens during the nationalist campaign will not make it harder in the future to transform the conditions that marginalize women and privilege men. It also rests on the prediction that political institutions born out of a nationalist victory will be at least as open to women's analysis and demands as the institutions of a nationalist movement. Both of these assumptions are questionable. The very experiences of a nationalist campaign whether at the polls in Quebec, or in the streets of Armenia, or in the hills of Algeria frequently harden masculine political privilege. If men are allowed to take most of the policy-making roles in the movement, they are more likely to be arrested, gain the status of heroes in jail, learn public skills, all of which will enable them to claim positions of authority after the campaign is won. If women are confined to playing the nationalist wife, girlfriend or mother albeit making crucial contributions to a successful nationalist campaign they are unlikely to have either the skills or the communal prestige to gain community-wide authority at a later time. The nation of what 'the nation' was in its finest hour when it was most unified, most altruistic will be of a community in which women sacrificed their desires for the sake of the male-led collective. Risky though it might indeed be for a nationalist movement to confront current inequities between its women and men, it is more likely to produce lasting change than waiting until the mythical 'later'. There is a long history of nationalist women challenging masculine privilege in the midst of popular mobilization. Erasing those women's efforts from the nationalist chronicles makes it harder for contemporary women to claim that their critical attitudes are indigenous and hence legitimate. Thus nationalist feminists in countries such as Vietnam, Sri Lanka and Jamaica have invested energy in recapturing local women's nationalist history. As Honor Ford Smith of the Jamaican feminist theater group Sistren recalls, What we knew was that a spate of tongue-in-cheek newspaper and television reports had projected white feminists in Europe and North America as 'women's libbers', hysterical perverts. . . We did not know of the struggles of women for education and political rights between 1898 and 1944. We did not know the names of the early black feminists. . . 39 Challenges have been hardest to mount when women within a movement have lacked the chance to talk with each other in confidence about their own experiences and how they shape their priorities. Women in an oppressed or colonized national community are usually not from a single social class, and thus they have not experienced relations with the foreign power or the coopted ruling élite in the same ways. Nor do all women within a national community have identical sexual experiences with men or with other women. Women who haven't had the space to discuss their differences and anxieties together have been less able to withstand men's charges of being lesbians or aliens. Women's efforts to redefine the nation in the midst of a nationalist campaign have been especially difficult when potentially supportive women outside the community have failed to understand how important it is to women within the community not to be forced to choose between their nationalist and their feminist aspirations. As stressful as it is to live as a feminist nationalist, to surrender one's national identity may mean absorption into an international women's movement led by middle-class women from affluent societies. This is the caveat issued by Delia Aguilar, a Filipino nationalist feminist: when feminist solidarity networks are today proposed and extended globally, without a firm sense of identity national, racial and class we are likely to yield to feminist models designed by and for white, middle-class women in the industrial West and uncritically adopt these as our own. 40 Given the scores of nationalist movements which have managed to topple empires and create new states, it is surprising that the international political system hasn't been more radically altered than it has. But a nationalist movement informed by masculinist pride and holding a patriarchal vision of the new nation-state is likely to produce just one more actor in the international arena. A dozen new patriarchal nation-states may make the international bargaining table a bit more crowded, but it won't change the international game being played at that table. It is worth imagining, therefore, what would happen to international politics if more nationalist movements were informed by women's experiences of oppression. If more nation-states grew out of feminist nationalists' ideas and experiences, community identities within the international political system might be tempered by cross-national identities. Resolutions of inter-state conflicts would last longer because the significance of women to those conflicts would be considered directly, not dismissed as too trivial to be the topic of serious state-to-state negotiation.
 * This must take priority for change to be effective**

Warren 94. Professor of philosophy at Macalester College. (Ecological Feminism, p. 193-194), MR In a similar vein, Paula Smithka argues that sexism, naturism, nuclearism, and other “isms of domination” are symptoms of the disease of dissociation by which humans attempt to sever their relationships with others and with nature (Smithka 1989). In the terminology introduced here, patriarchalism constructs one’s perception of the “other” as inferior, permits the psychological and conceptual distancing (dissociation of “the other,” and justifies the interiorizing of “the other.” Suppose nuclearism is indeed an “addiction,” as Lifton and Falk claim, or unhealthy dissociation, as Smithka claims – partly psychological conditions. How does one recover from it? Addictions and dissociation ultimately involve faulty beliefs which, for recovery to occur, must be seen and rejected (Warren 1990). Nuclear awareness, then, involves seeing the insanity of nuclear confrontation. For a feminist peace politics, this involves seeing the patriarchalist biases of nuclear parlance (in addition to whatever other biases must be seen.) The case is the same for sexism, racism, classism, naturism, and any other “isms of domination” based on faulty belief systems – what I have called oppressive and patriarchal conceptual frameworks. They must be seen to be rejected. What is involved in seeing and breaking through the addictions, the illusions against the earth (e.g. “rape of the land”); perhaps even global, systemic, economic violence (e.g. poverty). This would involve, the dissociation? To employ the familiar language of recovery from addictions such as alcoholism, to recover from nuclearism and other “isms of domination” we can and must now, in the pre-feminist patriarchal present, choose to become recovering nuclearists, recovering naturists, recovering sexists and racists. And we can start to do that by seeing and changing the faulty patriarchalist thinking that underlies and sustains these “isms.” Seen in terms of the psychological phenomena of dissociation, addiction, or dysfunctional systems generally, then, patriarchalism might be also viewed as ecofeminist Charlene Spretnak views it: as a primary, progressive, terminal disease, the “logical” because predictable consequence of which could quite literally be the death of the planet. Seen from a psychological perspective, nuclear madness needs to be taken seriously as a madness, that is, as a craziness which has delusion, denial, and dissociation at its core. An ecofeminist peace politics would help explore and clarify the nature of the conceptual, psychological, and behavioral ties of nuclearism and other “isms of domination” to this flawed thinking – patriarchalism. Feminists can being to develop analyses of violence and nonviolence which show the interconnections among kinds of violence: violence against the self (e.g. anorexia and bulimia, suicide); violence against others (e.g. spousal and child abuse, rape); violence showing ways in which patriarchalism underlies all such kinds of violence and itself breeds violence.
 * That guarantees extinction**