GLOBAL DIALOGUE Volume 7 ● Number 1–2 ● Winter/Spring 2005—Humanitarian Intervention

The Iraq War and Humanitarian Intervention

JAMES KURTH

James Kurth is Claude Smith Professor of Political Science at Swarthmore College.

he 1990s were a decade of humanitarian intervention. With the end of the Cold War, there were initially high hopes that massive human rights abuses, particularly large-scale massacres or genocides, could be brought to an end with intervention by the United Nations. These hopes soon vanished because of the UN failures in Bosnia, Somalia, and Rwanda, but they were succeeded by new hopes for intervention by the United States. These hopes seemed to be validated by the US successes in Bosnia and Kosovo, and even to a degree by the US experience in Haiti. There was also the successful intervention carried out by Australia, with US support, in East Timor. 

The current decade, however, has not been one of humanitarian intervention by the United States, or indeed by anyone else. Rather, the United States has engaged in two wars, one in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. The Bush administration justified these wars, particularly that in Iraq, in human rights terms. The real impact of the Iraq War, however, has been to make humanitarian intervention by the United States impossible. This radically reduces the prospects for successful humanitarian interventions in the future. And this in turn increases the prospects for undeterred and uninhibited large-scale massacres or genocides, such as are now occurring in the western Sudan.

Ability and Will

When one examines each case of large-scale massacre or genocide in detail, it becomes clear that there has always been a sizeable organisation, indeed usually a modern bureaucratic state, behind the slaughter. In the prominent examples from the 1990s, this organisation was the Milosevic regime and the Serbian state and para-state organisations (i.e., army and militias) which it controlled and deployed in Bosnia and Kosovo; the Hutu regime and its state and para-state organisations (again, army and militias) in Rwanda; and the Indonesian military and its auxiliary militias in East Timor. (In Sierra Leone, the organisations which directed the massacres were not part of the state, which had largely collapsed into a “failed state”, but a number of warlords and their militias.)

Since large-scale massacres or genocides are really the work of specific state or para-state organisations, in particular, militaries and militias, it will take another military—i.e., an intervention from the outside with a foreign military force—to defeat the perpetrators and to stop the killing. Once the murdering organisations are destroyed by the intervention forces, a peace of sorts can be established. The central question for humanitarian intervention obviously then becomes, Who can and will provide the outside military force? Both the “can” (military capability) and the “will” (political will) are essential.

A humanitarian intervention requires both a political authority, which will decide upon and authorise it, and a military force, which will carry it out. The possible political authorities have varied from the government of a particular nation-state (e.g., the United States or Britain), through regional organisations composed of somewhat similar states (e.g., NATO or the European Union), to the most general or universal organisation of them all, the United Nations. The possible military forces have varied from a modern, standing, expeditionary force (e.g., the military forces of, again, the United States or Britain), through a temporary coalition of similar military forces under the leadership or command of one of them (e.g., the NATO forces in Bosnia and Kosovo), to an ad hoc multinational force composed of disparate military units drawn from several different states (e.g., the UN peacekeeping forces in the initial phase of the humanitarian interventions in Somalia, Bosnia, and Sierra Leone). In practice, therefore, there seems to be a correlation between the kind of political authority and the kind of military force.

Legitimacy versus Efficacy

As we examine these different political and military possibilities, it appears that there may be something of a trade-off between the legitimacy and the efficacy of intervention. The political authority with the greatest legitimacy among the widest number of states is likely to be the United Nations. However, almost any proposed humanitarian intervention is likely to be viewed by one of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council as a threat to its particular interests (as has recently been the case with China in regard to Sudan). The intervention will probably be vetoed before it has even begun. Thus, the most legitimate political authority is also likely to be the least efficacious one.

Conversely, the political authority with the greatest efficacy, in the sense of being able to decide upon and authorise an intervention quickly and coherently, is likely to be the government of a particular nation-state. In practice, this state is likely to be the United States, Britain, or France, because they are the ones with modern, standing, expeditionary military forces. Interventions undertaken by either Britain or France still have some problems with legitimacy, because of their colonial pasts (and because of France’s recent interventions in Africa, which were clearly in pursuit of particular French interests). Interventions undertaken by the United States have even greater problems with legitimacy, because of the controversial record of past US interventions and because of fears of a US imperial future. Thus, the most efficacious political authority is also likely to be the least legitimate one.

Perhaps this perplexing trade-off between legitimacy and efficacy can be transcended by turning to the middle kind of political authority, that is, a regional organisation composed of somewhat similar states. For example, the NATO interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo seemed to have had a respectable degree of both legitimacy and efficacy. Unfortunately, most regional organisations are not yet organised to the extent that they can decide upon and authorise something as difficult and demanding as an effective humanitarian intervention. This is the problem with such organisations, or rather loose groupings, as the Association of South-East Asian Nations and all other regional bodies in Asia, and the African Union and all other regional bodies in Africa.

The UN’s Dismal Record

As it turned out, each of these UN interventions in failed states became failures themselves; indeed, they became notorious fiascos. In Somalia, the UN forces first had to be rescued by US ones, and then both the United Nations and the United States withdrew and left the Somalian population in anarchy. In Bosnia, the UN forces did not stop the ethnic massacres, which culminated in the murder of seven thousand men and boys in Srebrenica in 1995. In Sierra Leone, the UN forces had to be rescued by British ones, which then carried out an effective intervention. And in Rwanda, the most notorious case of all, the UN forces in the country were prevented by the UN leadership in New York from stopping the genocide of eight hundred thousand Tutsis. It is hard to imagine a more dismal and disgraceful record.

Other Interventions

The 1990s did see several cases of successful military intervention to stop large-scale massacres. These were by US and, more broadly, NATO forces in Bosnia (1995) and in Kosovo (1999), and by Australian forces in East Timor (1999). There was also a successful British intervention in Sierra Leone in 2000.

In addition, US military forces were successful in stopping human rights abuses by the military regime in Haiti (1994). However, the US-installed successor government, the Aristide regime, perpetrated its own abuses in later years, to the extent that the United States intervened again in 2004 in order to depose it. This time, however, the US military intervention was very modest in scale and very brief in duration, and upon the departure of American forces from Haiti a pervasive anarchy ensued in the country.

These five military operations, all undertaken by a particular nation-state, largely complete the list of successful humanitarian interventions in the decade-and-a-half since the end of the Cold War. They are balanced by some unsuccessful ones undertaken by a nation-state or a regional organisation, namely, by US (along with UN) forces in Somalia (1992–3) and by west African forces in Liberia and in Sierra Leone (the mid-1990s). Moreover, the successful cases should be compared with (and are perhaps outweighed by) the many cases of non-intervention, when large-scale massacres or even genocides occurred and persisted, but no one—not the United Nations, nor a regional organisation, nor a major power—used its military forces to stop them. The most notorious case was, of course, Rwanda (1994), but the list also includes several other countries in Africa: Sudan, in particular the southern region until 2003 and more recently the western region (Darfur) since 2003; Burundi; the Democratic Republic of Congo (DR Congo); and Angola. Overall, then, the historical record of humanitarian interventions is more one of failure than success.

Can anything constructive be learned from this record that might help advocates of humanitarian intervention work towards success in stopping large-scale massacres or genocide in the future? The obvious place to begin is with the five successful cases.

In each of these five cases, the intervention was decided upon by the political authorities of a particular country—the United States (even if it operated within the framework of NATO), Britain, and Australia—and it was carried out by that country’s modern military forces, which were highly professional and had an expeditionary capability. There was unity of command with respect to decision-making and decision-execution, i.e., with respect both to the political and the military levels. The combination of unity of command and highly professional forces meant that the military intervention could be undertaken decisively and quickly, and executed with focus, persistence, and effectiveness. This contrasts, for example, with the feckless and indeed cowardly UN intervention in Bosnia (which featured modern military forces, but no unified political authority) or the ineffective west African interventions in Liberia and Sierra Leone (in which there was some unity of decision-making around the Nigerian government, but there were no modern military forces). Of course, even when the decision-making is unified and the military forces are highly professional, the humanitarian intervention will fail if political decision-makers are feckless (and indeed cowardly), as with the Clinton administration in Somalia.

The State Imperative

These observations point to a rather stern and sombre conclusion: under present-day conditions, a successful humanitarian intervention will be undertaken only when a modern state with modern military forces is willing to do so. These forces must not only be highly professional ones, but they must also be capable of expeditionary (overseas) operations.

The number of modern states is rather large; it includes, for example, more than twenty countries in Europe alone. However, the number of modern, professional, and expeditionary military forces is remarkably small. It actually consists of the forces of only the United States, Britain, France, Canada, and Australia. It is no accident that the five successful humanitarian interventions were carried out by three of these countries (the United States, Britain, and Australia), that another (France) has a long history of (non‑humanitarian) military interventions in Africa, and that Canada has a long history of participating in peace‑keeping operations.

Within this small number of states with a capability for effective humanitarian intervention, the United States obviously looms large. Indeed, in most cases, it is the only place from which humanitarian intervention might come. The other states on the list will take the lead in deciding upon and carrying out an intervention only in limited circumstances. Britain on occasion may do so with regard to one of its former colonies (if the country is rather small), as it did with Sierra Leone. France on occasion may also take the lead in an intervention in one of its former colonies (again, if the country is rather small, and if the intervention directly serves France’s particular interests), as in Côte d’Ivoire (2004). Australia may take the lead in an intervention in its immediate region, as in East Timor. As for Canada, it no longer has a substantial expeditionary capability. The only places where it might take the lead in an intervention are certain small islands in the Caribbean, which are former British colonies.

When we add up all of the afflicted countries which might be rescued by Britain, France, Australia, or Canada, it is obvious that many (and especially large countries) are outside the sphere of intervention of all four of these powers combined. The countries outside this sphere of intervention include such present and potential arenas of massacre or genocide as Sudan, DR Congo, Burundi and, not too far in the future, other parts of Africa as well. Can we expect the United States to step into this African void?

Shunning Africa

Even in the case of Liberia, the one African country where US political and economic involvement was long-standing and direct, the United States did almost nothing when that country collapsed after 1989 into anarchy and massacres. On occasion, the United States sent some marine units to protect or evacuate American citizens, but the murder and mayhem in Liberia continued for more than a decade.

Finally, in terms of the sheer number of deaths caused by war, genocide, or anarchy, the two most massive human rights disasters of the past generation have been DR Congo (more than two million deaths from war or from consequent famine and disease since the mid-1990s) and Sudan (more than two million deaths in southern Sudan in the 1980s and 1990s, and now more than one hundred thousand deaths in Darfur since 2003). The United States has done nothing in DR Congo, and the disaster continues. In regard to Sudan, it is certainly true that the George W. Bush administration did use extensive and focused diplomatic and political pressure to bring about a peace of sorts in southern Sudan in 2003. But this seems to have had the effect of directing the human rights violations, indeed genocidal operations, of the Sudanese government into western Sudan. The United States has officially criticised these human rights violations as genocide, but again it has done nothing in practice, and the disaster continues.

Africa, therefore, presents a particularly tragic and paradoxical problem in regard to the prospects for humanitarian intervention. The continent has the largest number of countries (and the largest countries) where massacres and genocides are now occurring and are likely to occur in the future. Africa is where the need for humanitarian intervention is greatest. For a few African countries (and particularly if they are small ones), either Britain or France might be able to undertake a successful intervention, comparable to their interventions in Sierra Leone or Côte d’Ivoire. However, for most African countries, it is only the United States that will have the military capability to undertake a successful intervention. But because of its lack of either deep historical connections or contemporary vital interests in Africa, the United States is unlikely to have the political will to do so.

The reluctance of the United States to undertake humanitarian interventions in Africa, or indeed anywhere else, in the near future is deepened by two other US realities. One relates to the perspective of the US military services, and the other relates to the consequences of the Iraq War.

The US Military Perspective

Only a military force which can conduct land operations can carry out a true humanitarian intervention, the kind that is necessary in order to defeat and destroy a local military or militia which is perpetrating large-scale massacres or genocide. The United States possesses two such military forces: the US Army and the US Marines. They are quite different from each other in regard to their potential for humanitarian intervention.

The problem is that the US Army sees itself as the military service which fights other large armies in conventional ground combat operations. Its major historical, even classic, opponents had been the German army and the Soviet army, and for decades the US Army had designed itself to fight this kind of enemy. In the 1990s, the closest remaining equivalents were the Iraqi army and the North Korean army, and the US Army was still organised to fight this kind of enemy. Although it would have been perfectly capable of fighting the regular Yugoslav (actually Serbian) army of the Milosevic regime, the US Army certainly was not prepared to fight irregular militias or to maintain a military occupation. Its reluctance to undertake this kind of military operation in Haiti, Bosnia, and Kosovo was powerfully reinforced by its experiences in Vietnam and Somalia. As it happened, the US Army was able to withdraw quickly from Haiti, and even though it remained in Bosnia and Kosovo for a long period, it did not have to engage in significant combat there. This did not, however, make it any more eager to engage in these kinds of unconventional operations.

The course of the Iraq War has largely demonstrated the good sense of the US Army’s self-definition. The army was extremely successful in defeating the regular Iraqi army in March–April 2003. However, it has been very unsuccessful since then in dealing with the irregular Iraqi insurgents and in maintaining the military occupation. Its current ordeal in Iraq will make it extremely reluctant to undertake any such unconventional operations in the future. This resistance will apply to humanitarian interventions.

However, in the 1990s, the marines began to recover and re-emphasise their earlier tradition of being an expeditionary force capable of unconventional warfare. Although their experience in Iraq, like that of the army, has been an ordeal, the marines are more likely to view it as one to build upon, rather than to reject totally. It is possible, therefore, that the US Marine Corps will remain open to undertaking humanitarian interventions in the future.

For the most part, however, the Iraq War will have very damaging consequences for humanitarian intervention. The war has developed in a way that will make it almost impossible for the United States to undertake a humanitarian intervention in the next several years. It has greatly impaired both the political will and the military capability necessary for such interventions.

Had the Iraq War followed a course similar to the Bosnian intervention of 1995, the Kosovo War of 1999, or the Afghan War of 2001, the prospects for more US humanitarian interventions in the future would have been greatly enhanced. In each of these cases, and prior to the beginning of US military operations, critics and sceptics—often with great professional expertise and reputation—had warned that US forces would get bogged down in a long and difficult war against local insurgents and guerrillas. They pointed to the past cases of Somalia, Lebanon and, especially, Vietnam. As it happened, however, in Bosnia and Kosovo, US air power (along with the ground forces of local allies, such as the Croatian army) was sufficient to win the war. In Afghanistan, the combination of US air power and a small number of US special forces (again along with the more numerous ground forces of local allies, such as the Northern Alliance) was sufficient to win the war. These successes seemed to demonstrate that the United States had perfected a new American way of war, one which involved very little commitment of US ground forces, which could achieve its objectives very quickly, and which would result in very few American combat deaths. The critics and sceptics, it seemed, had been proven wrong. Most importantly, the United States could now look forward to similar quick and cheap successes in future military operations. These could obviously include humanitarian interventions.

The human rights advocates in the Clinton administration drew this conclusion after Kosovo, and had Albert Gore become president in 2001, the United States might have been ready to undertake another humanitarian intervention when an appropriate case arose. By contrast, the new Bush administration in its first months publicly and clearly expressed its view that humanitarian intervention was remote from US vital interests. Human rights advocates, however, were still enthusiastic that humanitarian interventions with US military forces could and should be a major pillar of the emerging global order of universal human rights. They became even more enthusiastic after the apparent success of the Afghan War. Some, most notably Michael Ignatieff, director of the Carr Center for Human Rights Policy at Harvard University, even became advocates of an “American empire” which would impose and enforce human rights around the world.

The War in Iraq

When the Bush administration in late 2001 (after the 11 September attacks and even before the conclusion of the Afghan War) decided that it would go to war with Iraq, it certainly did so because of its own definition of US vital interests. These included both security interests (the presumed threat of weapons of mass destruction under the control of Saddam Hussein’s “rogue state” or even of the al-Qaeda terrorist network) and economic ones (the anticipated control of Iraqi oil production). But some prominent members of the administration (most obviously Deputy Secretary of Defence Paul Wolfowitz, and also probably President Bush himself) saw a US vital interest in bringing about the democratisation of Iraq, and then using Iraq as a model and a base from which to spread liberal democracy and free markets to other countries in the Middle East, primarily Syria and Iran. And because the Saddam Hussein regime had engaged in massive human rights violations, including large-scale massacres in the past (against the Kurds in 1988 and against both Kurds and Shi’ites in 1991), it was easy for the Bush administration to claim that its war against Iraq was actually a sort of humanitarian intervention. The fact that the massacres had occurred more than a decade before was unimportant. Michael Ignatieff and other prominent advocates of humanitarian intervention joined the Bush administration and its supporters, such as the neo-conservatives, in promoting and justifying the war against the Saddam Hussein regime.

The first phase of the Iraq War (March–April 2003) seemed to follow the trajectory of the Bosnian, Kosovo, and Afghan wars, and to validate the new American way of war. The Iraqi regime and army quickly collapsed, just as the administration had predicted. It looked as if there had been yet another great leap forward in the grand narrative of progressive democratisation and humanitarian intervention. But then something happened.

In the summer of 2003, there began a pervasive and persistent insurgency against the occupation forces of the United States and its allies. The continuing ordeal of US military forces in Iraq has greatly diminished, if not totally demolished, the confident predictions about the new American way of war and the grand speculations about a new American empire. 

Among the casualties of the Iraq War have been the prospects for future US humanitarian interventions. There is no longer any political will in the United States to undertake new military interventions, and certainly not any humanitarian ones which would be remote from US vital interests. Even with the re-election of President Bush in November 2004, the administration has no mandate to undertake a new intervention, in part because its justifications for undertaking its Iraq intervention have been drained of all credibility. Those political writers who only two years ago enthusiastically advocated war in Iraq, as well as interventions to impose democratisation and human rights more generally, now devote themselves to criticising the administration for its inept conduct of the war and the occupation. In so far as they contemplate any new military operations, it is only in regard to the growing nuclear capability of Iran. About humanitarian intervention, even with respect to the well-publicised human rights disaster, indeed genocide, in Darfur, they have nothing to say.

Even if by some oddity the American political will to undertake military interventions had survived the ordeal in Iraq and was present to order a new intervention, the US military capability to carry it out no longer exists. As is well known, US ground forces have been stretched to their limit in Iraq. There is simply no reserve of ground forces left to engage in sizeable and extended operations anywhere else. It is telling that the US Marine operation in Haiti in 2004 was much smaller and much briefer than the joint army–marine operation there in 1994; it was truly a case of too little, too late and quick in, quick out. The Haitian population have been left in chaos and misery. In a sense, they too have become casualties of the Iraq War.

The Iraq War also diminished the diplomatic credibility of the United States with respect to arguing a case for intervention before the United Nations, as with the Darfur genocide in Sudan. The way the United States treated the United Nations regarding the Iraq War in the spring of 2003 (presenting evidence and arguments that were later discredited, then going to war despite UN opposition) meant that it was burdened with a bad reputation and ill feelings when it returned to the United Nations over Darfur in the autumn of 2004. Of course, on Darfur the United States would have faced substantial opposition from other UN members purely because of calculations of state interest (e.g., China in the Security Council, the Arab states and many African states in the General Assembly). But the baleful legacy of the Iraq War made it seem legitimate, and therefore made it easy, for these countries to oppose the United States on Darfur.

In sum, because of its destructive impact upon the political will, the military capability, and the diplomatic credibility of the United States, the Iraq War has made it almost impossible for the United States to undertake any humanitarian intervention in the foreseeable future, or at least for the duration of that war. In particular, it has made it impossible for the United States to undertake any intervention against the greatest case of genocide now going on, that by the Sudanese government and its auxiliaries against the African population in Darfur. And so they, too, in a sense have become casualties of the Iraq War.

The human rights advocates who supported going to war in Iraq have much to answer for. They did not themselves cause the war; the Bush administration had its own reasons and would have gone to war for these alone. However, the human rights advocates helped to legitimise the war; the administration used them to confuse and divide liberals who were otherwise inclined to oppose the war. In a sense, these human rights advocates were accessories to the war and to its attendant deceptions. They contributed to the war and to the afflictions it has brought to its victims, directly in Iraq (medical experts have estimated more than one hundred thousand civilian deaths) and indirectly elsewhere, as in Darfur. They are guilty, in short, of a kind of wilful recklessness or criminal negligence.

An ‘Iraq Syndrome’? 

The Iraq War will not only prevent the United States from undertaking humanitarian interventions for the duration of the war. The ghost of the war is likely to haunt America and to deter US interventions for years even after the war is over. For this is what happened in the aftermath of the Vietnam War. The US debacle in Vietnam produced “the Vietnam syndrome”. Its practical effect was a period of more than a decade in which both policymakers and the public were extremely reluctant to undertake any intervention involving substantial numbers of ground forces.

Although it is to be hoped that the Iraq War will not reach the depths of the debacle that was the Vietnam War, it is very likely that it will produce its own “Iraq syndrome”, an extreme reluctance in American policymakers and the public to undertake new military interventions, and this reluctance is likely to persist for at least several years (and through the term of at least one presidential administration elected in the wake of the war). And if and when the United States again begins to undertake military interventions, it is likely to do so in defence of concrete and vital security, political, or economic interests, rather than in defence of human rights in countries which are remote from those interests.

However, given the effects of the Iraq syndrome, these military interventions probably won’t be in the Middle East or more broadly in the Muslim world. And given the lack of vital US interests in Africa, they almost certainly won’t be there either. In short, the United States is unlikely to undertake military interventions in the very regions where, from a humanitarian viewpoint, they are most likely to be needed.

Prospects

Our analysis has issued in a prognosis for humanitarian intervention which is quite bleak. In the past, only a modern state with a modern expeditionary military force has been capable of conducting a successful military intervention. These conditions are now met only by the United States, Britain, France, and perhaps Australia and Canada. But in the future, Britain and France are likely to intervene at most only in small countries which are former colonies. Australia and Canada are likely to intervene at most only in small countries in their immediate region. And because of the effects of the Iraq War, the United States for the foreseeable future is not likely to intervene at all. There is not much hope for humanitarian intervention to be found in the modern-state formula.

The antithesis of the modern-state formula has been the UN formula: the UN organisation directing an ad hoc multinational military force. As we have seen, this formula for humanitarian intervention has a record of dismal failure. It is unlikely to produce any better results in the future. It will almost always be the case that one of the five permanent members of the Security Council will see the proposed intervention to be against its national interest and that it will exercise its veto. It will also often be the case that a large number of countries in the General Assembly will oppose the intervention as a threat to their interests or as an outside intrusion into their particular region. Even if these political obstacles could be overcome for a particular humanitarian crisis, the ad hoc multinational military force will be assembled only after frustrating delays and only with poorly organised forces, a classic case of too little, too late.

Between these two formulas there may lie a third: a regional organisation directing a standing, modern military force whose units are drawn from the region. The example which would have the greatest potential capability would be a standing force directed by the European Union and drawn from its member states. This would be available to intervene in future ethnic conflicts in, say, the Balkans. However, since NATO has already shown that it has this capability, an EU force might be redundant.

Conversely, the example which would address the greatest potential need would be a standing force directed by the African Union and drawn from its member states—a force equipped and trained up to modern standards, and probably with very substantial financial and logistical support from the European Union and the United States. Of course, the political will of the African Union could be weak: its decision‑making process might recapitulate that of the United Nations, i.e., there may always be some members who will find it in their particular interest to veto or sabotage the intervention. The military force could also be weak: before it would be actually able to undertake an effective humanitarian intervention, it would have to acquire certain standards and skills, and the development of this force would take several years at least.

Still, given the seeming inevitability of more ethnic conflicts and humanitarian crises in Africa for the foreseeable future, and given the seeming paucity of other options for effective humanitarian intervention, a standing African Union intervention force may be the only plausible way to go. The European Union and the United States can each provide material support to enable African countries to move in that direction. And the time to move—already too late for Darfur and not too soon for the next humanitarian disaster—is now.