Fighting terror: "muscular" Cameron versus "nuanced" Obama

America's new counter-terrorist strategy points is better, more confident alternative to the UK's 'P

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On Wednesday, the Obama administration launched its new counter-terrorism strategy - the first published revision since the Bush presidency. It did so from a position of strength, having finally tracked down and killed Osama bin Laden. Recent polls show rising approval of Obama's handling of terrorism, boosting his overall ratings and helping him hold the generals to the deal he struck in late 2009, to start bringing troops home from Afghanistan in big numbers.

The new strategy contains a fairly detailed discussion of the Arab Spring, arguing for applying "targeted force on Al Qaida at a time when its ideology is under extreme pressure" from events in North Africa and the Middle East. By contrast, Britain's revised Prevent strategy published three weeks ago, mentions these events only once - in a footnote, saying with characteristic bureaucratic obtuseness that it's too early to say what the effects will be. The British system has probably been too busy thrashing around on the argument which has divided our politicians, counter-terrorist officials and experts over the last year - the argument about whether the real enemy is terrorism, violent extremism, or extremism more widely.

That question was supposedly resolved in the Prevent strategy, which committed the Government to broadening out its counter-terrorist efforts to include non-violent extremists, defined as people and organisations who disagree with our "core values", including democracy, equality before the law, and universal human rights. David Cameron had flagged this shift in his Munich speech, when he explicitly criticised the previous governmentfor focusing too narrowly on terrorism and violent extremism, and failing to be sufficiently 'muscular' in standing up for our values.

The most interesting thing about the new US strategy from a British perspective is that it essentially takes the diametrically opposite path. President Obama's foreword asserts that "we must define who we are fighting with precision and clarity", and the strategy states that "by ensuring that counter-terrorist policies and tools are narrowly tailored, and applied to achieve specific, concrete security gains, the US will optimise its security and protect the liberties of its citizens."

At the time the Prevent strategy was published I criticised it for being sloppily written and not properly thought through - as well as representing a fundamental wrong turn. It fails to make clear whether the Government believes in tackling non-violent extremism as a matter of principle, or because it thinks this will reduce the risk of terrorism. (I noted that either or both are legitimate - if arguable - positions, but the Government needs to be much clearer which is driving policy in which area, as they can have quite different implications.) The instruction to universities and those who oversee internet provision in any "public institution" to intervene directly against groups or individuals who "do not share our core values" is both confusing and dangerous. The wording slides between asking universities to monitor and take action against people or groups involved with terrorism - which academics may tolerate - and asking them to monitor and take action against groups who disagree with our "core values" - which they surely cannot. It slides between talking about blocking online content which is "unlawful" - which is a matter of fact, and relatively uncontroversial - and blocking online content which is "harmful" - which is a matter of judgment, and highly controversial.

There are very specific risks here for freedom of speech and thought, on campus and online, which need to be addressed urgently. The deeper question is whether Britain is going in the wrong direction on the fundamental question of how we win the argument for our values - as well as whether it makes sense to go in the opposite direction to the US, given how closely the two countries work together.

Cameron was praised by the likes of Matthew d'Ancona for characterising the struggle against the ideology behind terrorism as a "new Cold War". The analogy was hardly new - Gordon Brown was using it five years ago - but more important than who got there first, is which of the two has understood the analogy in the right way. When Brown invoked it, he remembered how:

It was fought not only with weapons and intelligence but through newspapers, journals, culture, the arts, literature. It was fought not just through governments but through foundations, trusts, civil society and civic organisations. We talked of a cultural Cold War - a war of ideas and values - and one which the best ideas and values eventually triumphed. And it is by power of argument, by debate and by dialogue that we will, in the long term, expose and defeat this threat.

The new US strategy emphasises a similarly positive approach, relying on the power of American values to win arguments and attract admirers, rather than the negative approach of attacking, or trying to silence, those who hold different values. The key, the strategy says, is winning the positive argument, engaging with and discrediting the ideology of Al Qaida and its supporters and adherents, limiting its resonance by addressing the grievances it feeds off - and avoiding doing anything that will discredit ourselves and undermine our values in the eyes of others.

Brown struggled to put his own version of this strategy into practice, and we will have to wait and see how the Obama administration fares. Some will observe that they need to do better in particular at avoiding undermining themselves: most notoriously in the continuing Guantanamo saga, but also in their response to the Wikileaks episode (they would have benefited from reading the section of the new strategy headed 'Balancing Security and Transparency'). But the strategy is the right one, and it contrasts favourably with Cameron's Munich speech, with its unfortunate echoes -"we need to wake up to what is happening in our own countries" - of the McCarthyite paranoia and conspiracy theories which are a less proud part of the Cold War story.

Cameron likes to sum up his new approach as 'muscular liberalism', but the Munich speech shaded from muscular into macho, and the Prevent strategy verges on the ham-fisted. Obama's alternative points us to a better alternative: confident rather than muscular, more nuanced - but also more open and more positive - and in the end more likely to succeed.

Matt Cavanagh is Associate Director at the Institute for Public Policy Research (IPPR)

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue