Romney is exaggerating his foreign policy differences with Obama

On foreign policy, the Republican candidate and the US President share a method and a worldview.

This year’s presidential election inverts the foreign policy attributes of the 2008 candidates: Barack Obama is now tough and experienced, Mitt Romney fallow and untested.

One of John McCain’s more memorable assertions in 2008 was that he would "follow Osama Bin Laden to the gates of hell." Obama’s actions have spoken louder than McCain’s hyperbole. When the president sanctioned the raid that killed Bin Laden in Pakistan on 2 May 2011 – declining to inform Pakistan of US intentions and using ground forces instead of launching an airstrike – he largely armoured himself to Republican attacks on his lack of fortitude. So where can Romney land meaningful blows now?

Romney’s main problem is that he is running against an incumbent who – through a step-change in the frequency, audacity and lethality of drone attacks – has arguably waged war on Al Qaeda more effectively than his predecessor, and unarguably at a lower human and financial cost. (Predator strikes, while ethically problematic, kill fewer people than ground wars.) In this context how does Romney communicate a greater desire to confront America’s enemies without sounding like Barry Goldwater in 1964, whose belligerence was an electoral godsend to Lyndon Johnson?

Romney is rarely less convincing than when seeking to out-hawk Obama on facing down Iran, Russia – "without question our number one geopolitical foe" – and China. Perhaps it is self-awareness that explains his discomfort in espousing such views. For Romney’s operating principles closely resemble Obama’s. Indeed, during his acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention in Tampa, Romney failed to name a single substantive difference with Obama on foreign policy.

Romney won the governorship of Massachusetts because he knows where to find the centre, and he sought out the median voter through this year’s fractious Republican primaries. The Tea Party ensured that this point was farther to the right than at any time in his party’s history. But the key point is that Romney is hardwired to operate in the middle-ground of whatever constituency he is charged with persuading. And the world looks more like pluralist Massachusetts than it does a bloc of Republican primary voters.

As a serious candidate in the 2007 primaries, Romney was commissioned to write a thought-piece for Foreign Affairs. The purpose of the article was to mollify and reassure in a polarized political environment. In it he stakes out little new ground, instead identifying points of agreement among so-called realists and neoconservatives.

Romney observes that the United States is in need of ‘an overarching strategy that can unite the United States and its allies,’ but cautions that this should be formed "not around a particular political camp or foreign policy school but around a shared understanding of how to meet a new generation of challenges. Romney’s emphasis is on achieving results not on pursuing agendas.

His speech at the Citadel last October was his most important foreign policy speech to date. Its purpose was to characterise Barack Obama as defeatist and out of tune with American values – in the same way that Senator Henry ‘Scoop’ Jackson and Ronald Reagan lambasted Henry Kissinger through the 1970s. So Romney accused Obama of issuing an "eloquently justified surrender of world leadership," a depiction far removed from reality. The president is utterly devoted to ushering in another "American century," as his well-documented admiration for Robert Kagan – author of The World America Made, and a key adviser to Romney – amply illustrates.

There are, of course, clear differences in each person’s style. Romney consciously emulates Ronald Reagan’s optimism and moral certainties. But like Reagan in his second term, Romney is likely to talk and act in substantively different ways. Rich Williamson, a veteran GOP foreign policy adviser, has struggled to differentiate his man from Obama. Williamson identifies "fundamental differences about a naive faith in engagement and a dangerous reliance on the Security Council versus having an approach where you have strength, where you're willing to lead, and where you have strong relationships with our friends and allies." But who could honestly say that Obama is not willing to lead or have strong relationships with friends and allies? And would Romney really ignore the UN when it might serve a useful function? Obama and Romney are cut from the same cloth; a source of angst to the base of both parties.

Writing in the Weekly Standard earlier this year, William Kristol observed that "Mitt Romney is an intelligent, hardworking, pragmatic problem-solver with a conservative disposition. He might as well present himself that way." This is true, though it fails to acknowledge the fact that Romney’s primary virtues – his competence, diligence and "small c" diplomatic conservatism – are also Obama’s.

A chasm separates the candidates on domestic policy and Congress is an alarmingly polarised and ineffectual place. On foreign policy, however, Obama and Romney share a method and a worldview. As an "etch-a-sketch" – as adviser Eric Fehrnstrom ill advisedly described him – Romney has shown a willingness to say and erase whatever it takes to win. But he will surely pursue a modest diplomatic agenda if a stagnant economy allows him to defeat Obama on election day. Authoring foreign policy with a permanent marker tends to concentrate the mind.

David Milne, senior lecturer in political history at the University of East Anglia, is the author of America’s Rasputin: Walt Rostow and the Vietnam War. A longer version of this article appears in the Chatham House journal, International Affairs.

Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney speaks during a campaign rally in Jacksonville, Florida. Photograph: Getty Images.

David Milne is senior lecturer in political history at the University of East Anglia, and the author of America’s Rasputin: Walt Rostow and the Vietnam War.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear