"Laws are silent in times of war."

Posts tagged “Turkey”

The Case for Coalitions of the Unwilling

Posted on December 3, 2014

For months, it was believed that the patchwork of 40-plus countries recruited in the fight against ISIS looked weak and wobbly. Who can forget that Vice President Joe Biden had to recently apologize to not one but three Middle East allies — Turkey, United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia — for accusing them in public of secretly abetting the Islamist rebels. Worse, the vice president was not factually incorrect in his assertion.

But then something remarkable happened. After much contentious back-and-forth, Turkey and the United States appear to have reached a tentative agreement on two fronts: The use of Incirlik and other bases, and the formation of a de facto no-fly zone in northern Syria. Iranian fighter jets, too, have joined in the fight against ISIS. No, the process has not been pretty. But in the long term, an alliance of strange bedfellows may actually be more helpful to prevent countries from shirking or contributing only token support.

This viewpoint is backed up by Stephen Gent, a scholar at the University of North Carolina, who found that when there is complete consensus on an issue, we get a “free rider” problem. That is, smaller countries assume others will do their bidding. The inability to prevent genocides in Darfur and Rwanda provides a case in point.

But when there are major disagreements over interests, countries are more willing to intervene jointly — since it gives them greater say in shaping the policy outcomes. Thus, the diversity of the coalition assembled against ISIS should be its strength, not weakness.

This is also akin to what international relations scholars call “buck passing,” which can be thought of as a game of musical chairs. Other countries will make concessions to a rising threat — say, Nazi Germany — so long as they are not the last ones standing in their way when the music stops. (Hence, Joseph Stalin signs a secret deal with Adolf Hitler to pass the buck, as it were, to France.)

A big reason we got bogged down in Iraq after our intervention in 2003 was the fig leaf “coalition of the willing” — there was nobody left to hand it off to when the music stopped playing.

To be sure, there are many members of our coalition who do not want to get rid of ISIS if it means empowering Shiites in Baghdad and Tehran. It looks as if Turkey is working at cross-purposes with its coalition partners by sitting by idly while anti-ISIS Kurds are slaughtered in Kobani and insisting on the removal of al-Assad as a precondition of military support.

This is a problem.

Now ISIS appears to be more on the run and Ankara has finally gotten off the fence. Indeed, an anti-ISIS coalition of more diverse interests is stronger down the road than a united one that just rubber-stamps whatever we want. Such diversity also imposes more constraints, prevents mission creep, and lends greater legitimacy to our missions, as Cornell University’s Sarah Kreps points out in her book, Coalitions of Convenience.

Turkey is perversely a case in point: Among its main interests all along was to impose a formalized buffer zone across much of northern Syria, which now exists, albeit de facto and across a narrower swath of territory, thanks to NATO bombing. Coalitions also make it easier to extricate oneself once the fighting stops and prevent occupations.

Consider that a big reason we got bogged down in Iraq after our intervention in 2003 was the fig leaf “coalition of the willing” — there was nobody left to hand it off to when the music stopped playing. The burden-sharing of a broader coalition, despite all its headaches, is preferable to the costlier strategy of going-it-alone. History shows it is better to have our shaky allies inside the tent doing their business than outside of it.

That is not to say that we will prevent duty-shirking by partners this time around or that our actions will always be legitimized. But the coalition against ISIS is reimagining a new Middle East framework that may have legs to it long after the Islamist threat has receded, as well as open the door for new alliances to emerge to combat regional problems beyond ISIS, including Shiite extremism, economic stagnation, among others.

Maybe the threat posed by ISIS will serve as a wake-up call, one that serves to unite the Middle East. That is, after all, how NATO formed in the first place.

 

[Photo source: Flickr Commons]

 

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Lionel Beehner is coeditor of Cicero Magazine, a Ph.D. candidate at Yale, and a visiting scholar at Columbia University’s Harriman Institute. He is a former senior writer and term member at the Council on Foreign Relations, and is a member of USA Today‘s editorial Board of Contributors.

For Refugees in Turkey, A Tipping Point Looms

Posted on September 2, 2014

On a clear day, she can climb up the hill with her mother to the mosque and get a glimpse of home. Thirty miles away the once densely populated city of Aleppo now sits vastly empty, its minarets on the horizon betraying a spectacle of normalcy. It is a home that Fatima (her name has been changed) can see, but one that could not feel farther away. Her war-torn country of Syria has made her family one small part of the more than 1 million unwilling refugees living in Turkey. Now reliant upon donations from non-profits and the little cash that trickles in when the men in the family find work, her mother wonders if the war will ever end. I had to wonder the same.

She now calls a makeshift tent, comprised of blue tarps on a hill overlooking downtown Kilis, home. Straddling Turkey’s southeastern border with Syria, the town has become the epicenter of a growing humanitarian crisis. Conditions in the government-run camp – touted, as the “perfect” refugee camp in early 2014 – are deteriorating quickly. The camp was said to be completely full in June when I visited.

Known for its hospitality, Turkey left its borders open and gave visitor status to all Syrians fleeing the fighting. Scarred by firefights between the Assad regime and the opposition forces, most Syrians I spoke with fled their beloved country with only what they could carry. Many left believing it would only be a few months before they could return to their normal lives. Turkey welcomed them believing the same. That was two years ago. Many chose Turkey because it was easy to enter, but now they are finding life after crossing over anything but easy.

Known for its hospitality, Turkey left its borders open and gave visitor status to all Syrians fleeing the fighting.

Multiple barriers stand in the way of things like gaining employment and finding affordable housing. While Turkey’s guest status seemed welcoming at first, by not declaring Syrians as refugees, most were unable to provide the necessary documentation to legally work inside the country. Language differences also stand as a hurdle between the displaced Syrians and local Turks. Syrians speak Arabic which looks and sounds nothing like Turkish. According to my interpreter, Ola, a refugee herself, there is a push to teach English to the refugees to make them more employable. But jobs are few and far between and locals are growing more resentful about how the crisis is impacting their own well-being and wallets. Like the Iraqi refugees who flooded Amman in the 2000s, wealthier Syrians who can afford housing in Kilis and Gazientep are now being accused of raising rent prices and forcing Turks from their own neighborhoods. According to refugees and locals in Kilis, tensions are growing. Both groups worry about hitting the tipping point.

And for every girl like Fatima I met, there are women afraid to have their photo taken for fear of being sold into the increasingly rampant sex trade, families unable to leave their tents for fear of looting, children begging, refugees without potable water, illnesses, injuries, hunger, fear, and sadness—a sense that home may be forever lost. Violence and fighting between the two populations has intensified since my return. In nearby Gazientep, violence between the Syrians and the Turks has caused Turkish protesters to take to the streets against refugees. The clashes have the Turkish government now moving refugees to tent cities nearby.

When asked, refugees, especially women, quickly reply that they would rather go home. And men nursing their wounds in the local refugee hospital want to return to the fight. The 4,000 to 6,000 refugees queuing every day to receive food rations from Kimse Yok Mu, a Turkish NGO, surrounded us asking: Why were conditions so poor?

As the crisis continues in Syria, fears in Turkey, Lebanon and Jordan rise. Turks believe the total number of “official” refugees residing in their country is grossly lower than reported. And with Lebanon considering closing its borders to Syrian refugees, the number seeking refuge in Turkey could grow exponentially. Criticized for not creating a long-term plan, many are asking the Turkish government how it’s going to deal with the ramifications of a Syrian war with no end in sight. Standing under the blue tarps, it’s hard not to contemplate this life through the eyes of a child like Fatima. She did not want to leave her home in Aleppo, which may not even be there anymore.

Syria’s refugee crisis has been overshadowed by the growth of ISIS in Iraq and violence in Gaza. But with Turkish hospitality waning, there may be a breaking point soon.

 

melissa-harrisonMelissa Harrison is the Communications Director for the NRDC Action Fund. She traveled to Turkey as a Truman National Security Project partner with the Rumi Forum. This is one blog in a series she is writing about her journey. If you would like to help Syrian refugees living in Turkey please visit: http://bit.ly/1rr6nJD

[Top photo courtesy of Alex Stromin via Flickr Creative Commons]

 

 

Is Iraqi Kurdistan on the Verge of Statehood?

Posted on July 7, 2014

To get into Iraqi Kurdistan from Turkey by car, as I found out a few years back, requires no visa but two cups of tea with border guards on both sides, about a $100 in taxi fare, and lots of patience.

After a short drive we reach a line of lorries backed up for miles. It’s pitch black and cold outside. We wait for a few minutes until another car arrives. Words of Kurdish are exchanged and I’m told to get into this new car. OK, I think. That sounds good. I get into the backseat and the car speeds off down the wrong way on the highway, bypassing the line of trucks.

When our taxi reaches the border, a customs official eyes me suspiciously. The other passenger in the car—an older Kurd who I found out through his limited Russian is a chauffer—keeps telling me “problem,” then makes the international sign with his fingers for money. Translation: Please bribe this official so we can all get on our way. That’s how things work around here, kiddo. I smile at him politely and correct him, “No problem.”

We finally make it through, only to find out that the next guard is out to dinner. Back in an hour. So we cluster around the car, smoking cigarettes. My driver is a dead ringer for Sean Penn. When he smiles, it seems strained. The guy who speaks Russian and I go inside a lobby and share some tea. I ask if there is beer and he flashes me an angry stare. “No beer in Kurdistan,” he scolds me. Only chai, or tea. So we drink and talk about what’s better, Ankara or Istanbul? Turns out Ankara is better, he informs me. They treat their Kurds better.

We head back out and are finally waved through. I am motioned into an office by a burly border guard clutching a Kalashnikov. I explain my business. I’m a journalist. He nods but seems unconvinced, as I have no press credentials or proof of lodging. Then he pulls out a picture of a mustachioed man wearing what looks like a fez. “Who’s this?” he asks. “Ataturk,” I respond. “Yes. Ataturk is number one,” he beams. With that he escorts me out into the cold.

The next checkpoint is manned by Iraqi Kurds. I’m shown into a squat office and offered tea again. The guard likes America but is not buying my story. To pass the time, we drink tea. He then signs a flurry of paperwork, before asking: “Who are the best—Turks, Arabs, or Kurds?” Hmm, I think, the Kurdish sun-kissed tricolor flag staring me in the face. “Kurds,” I say. “Kurds are the best.” He smiles and stamps my passport. With that I am whisked back into the car.

If war is what makes the state, then, in Iraqi Kurdistan’s case, an absence of war is what makes its statehood even a prospect, however distant.

By now, it’s very late. We drive through a few more checkpoints before Sean Penn hands me off to another driver. I tell him the name of my hotel. “OK, no problem.” Every request in Kurdistan is met with either a “no problem” or “problem.” You don’t want the latter. We drive along an eerie highway with no light. My driver has a cold. When we arrive at my hotel, I am relieved to see a bevy of go-lucky Kurdish journalists who offer me, yes, more tea.

Getting out of Iraqi Kurdistan is remarkably much easier. You can literally walk through a hole in the wall in a dusty border town in the northeast of Iraqi Kurdistan and find yourself in Iran. There are no border guards, no customs officials barking for your passport and visa. You will likely be given to someone smuggling cigarettes across the border, as I was.

 

State Life?
Iraqi Kurdistan finds itself on the precipice of possible statehood. No, nobody is handing Erbil a UN seat just yet. But its role as a stable buffer state and lucrative trading partner with Turkey has made its semi-autonomy semi-permanent. Political scientist Tanisha Fazal holds up buffer states between two rivals as the most vulnerable to “state death.” A case in point might be present-day Ukraine. But what about one’s buffer status as a cause for state life?

After all, Iraqi Kurdistan has been spared most of the violence that has raged across Iraq in recent years. The vast majority of Turkey’s $12 billion in annual trade with Iraq, its second largest trading partner (after Germany), is with Erbil, not Baghdad. And Kirkuk, and its vast energy reserves, is now in Erbil’s hands. If war is what makes the state, then, in Iraqi Kurdistan’s case, an absence of war is what makes its statehood even a prospect, however distant.

Even tourism is beginning to blossom. I met retirees from Middle America, a young Brit bent on biking across Iraq, and a Cheech-and-Chong-like pair of Swedish hippies. I met religious tourists and history buffs, anthropologists and archaeologists. A number of Western travel agencies offer guided tours of Kurdistan and say they cannot keep pace with growing demand.

Kurdistan (Flickr Commons)

Kurdistan is a region teeming with cultural treasures, such as the mud-caked ruins of ancient hilltop fortresses and former palaces of Saddam. The scorched-earth plains where Alexander the Great tamed the Persians calls to mind the setting of a “Mad Max” film. And the hiking east of Sulaymaniyah rivals the Rockies.

There are also incongruent oddities, like giant Ferris Wheels, 18-hole golf courses, and even a roller coaster. There are New Urbanist communities, glitzy new shopping malls, and a women’s-only swimming pool. When Iraqi Kurds talk about being the next Dubai, they mean it. And the people here are remarkably pro-American (despite being betrayed by the Nixon administration). When I told a barber I was from New York, he practically hugged me. A popular destination in Erbil is a ratty row of kiosks that hawks U.S. army surplus combat gear.

Still, it is not an entirely safe region to roam as a backpacker. The electricity in my hotel in the border town of Zakho went off after Turkish warplanes shelled a nearby town and refugees poured into town. The fancier hotels are wrapped in concertina wire, like a federal penitentiary.

But the threat of war between Ankara and Kurdish separatist rebels has receded after being overtaken by the threat of Islamist militancy to the south and of Iraq coming apart. The Kurds may never get the full statehood promised them by Henry Kissinger and countless others. But, compared to the rest of the region, their status quo is not looking half-bad.

 

lionel BeehnerLionel Beehner is formerly a senior staff writer at the website of the Council on Foreign Relations, where he was a term member. He has reported from over two-dozen conflict or post-conflict zones, including Iraq, Sri Lanka, and the Balkans. He is a member of USA Today’s Board of Contributors and is a PhD candidate at Yale, focusing on nonstate actors and the use of force. He taught oped writing for seven years at Mediabistro. His writing has appeared in Foreign Affairs, Slate, The Atlantic, and The New Republic, among other publications. He is a frequent contributor to the Washington Post’ Monkey Cage and Political Violence @ A Glance blogs. He lives in Harlem, NYC with his wife and two children.