Canada Among Nations, 1995: Democracy and Foreign Policy 9780773595774

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Canada Among Nations 1995 Democracy and Foreign Policy

EDITED BY MAXWELL A. CAMERON 8c MAUREEN APPEL MOLOT

Carleton University Press

© Carleton University Press, Inc. 1995 Carleton Public Policy Series # 17 Printed and bound in Canada

National Library of Canada cataloguing Canada Among Nations 1984Annual. 1995 ed.: Democracy and Foreign Policy Each vol. also has a distinctive title. Produced by the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs of Carleton University. Includes bibliographical references. ISSN 0832-0683 ISBN 0-88629-260-3 (1995) ed., bound) ISBN 0-88629-261-1 (1995 ed., pbk.) 1. Canada—Foreign relations-1945 —Periodicals. 2. Canada—Politics and government— 1984—Periodicals. 3. Canada—Politics and government— 1980-84—Periodicals. I. Norman Paterson School of International Affairs FC242.C345 F1034.2.C36

327.71

C83-031285-2

Carleton University Press gratefully acknowledges the support extended to its publishing program by the Canada Council and the Ontario Arts Council. The Press would also like to thank the Department of Canadian Heritage, Government of Canada, and the Government of Ontario through the Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Recreation, for their assistance.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Contributors Preface

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I Introduction — Does Democracy Make a Difference? Maxwell A. Cameron and Maureen Appel Molot Democracy and the Canadian Foreign Policy Process II The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy: The Elusive Ideal Kim Richard Nossal

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III Morality, Democracy and Foreign Policy Robert H. Jackson

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IV Civil Society and the Democratization of Foreign Policy Tim Draimin and Betty Plewes

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V Women, and Gender, in the Foreign Policy -Review Process Sandra Whitworth VI Construction of Consensus: The 1994 Canadian Defence Review Robert J. Lawson VII Canadian Foreign Policy and Quebec Gordon Mace, Louis Belanger and Ivan Bernier VIII The Politics of Oligarchy: "Democracy" and Canada's Recent Conversion to Latin America Jean Daudelin

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Democracy as a Foreign Policy Objective IX Negotiating Human Rights with China Jeremy T Paltiel

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X South Africa: Transition to Transformation Douglas G. Anglin

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XI Economic Reforms and Political Democratization in Mexico: Reevaluating Basic Tenets of Canadian Foreign Policy Ricardo Grinspun, Nibaldo Galleguillos and Richard Roman

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XII Democracy and the Problem of Government in Russia 235 Andrea Chandler XIII Markets, Democracy and Security in Latin America James Rochlin

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XIV Democratic Governance in an Era of Global Finance Eric Helleiner

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List of Acronyms

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CONTRIBUTORS Douglas G. Anglin is a professor emeritus in the Department of Political Science, Carleton University. Maxwell A. Cameron is an assistant professor in The Norman Paterson School of International Affairs, Carleton University. Andrea Chandler is an assistant professor in the Department of Political Science, Carleton University. Jean Daudelin is a project officer at the Canadian Federation for the Americas (FOCAL), Ottawa, Ontario. Tim Draimin is Director of Policy at the Canadian Council for International Cooperation, Ottawa, Ontario. Nibaldo Galleguillos is an assistant professor in the Department of Political Science, McMaster University. Ricardo Grinspun is an assistant professor in the Department of Economics,York University. Eric Helleiner is an assistant professor in the Department of Political Studies,Trent University. Robert H. Jackson is a professor in the Department of Political Science, University of British Columbia. Robert J. Lawson is in the Department of Political Science, Carleton University. Maureen Appel Molot is a professor in the Department of Political Science and a professor and director of The Norman Paterson School of International Affairs, Carleton University.

Betty Plewes is executive director at the Canadian Council for International Cooperation. Kim Richard Nossal is a professor and chair in the Department of Political Science, McMaster University. Jeremy T. Paltiel is an associate professor in the Department of Political Science, Carleton University. James Rochlin is an assistant professor in the Department of Political Science, Okanagan University. Richard Roman is an associate professor in the Department of Sociology, University of Toronto. Sandra Whitworth is an associate professor of Political Science at York University and a research associate at the Centre for International and Strategic Studies,York University.

Preface

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emocracy and Foreign Policy is the eleventh volume in The Norman Paterson School of International Affairs' series on Canada in international affairs. The appearance of this volume coincides with the thirtieth anniversary of the School of International Affairs. The chapters in the book analyze different issues in Canada's external relations and the environment in which Canada's external policies are formulated. The articles focus on calendar 1994, the first full year of the Chretien government. The theme of this year's volume is "Democracy and Foreign Policy," a topic which captures both the foreign and defence policy review process that occurred in Canada during 1994 as well as the challenge of moving toward democratic regimes in many parts of the world. The premise of the book is that democracy matters as a

principle and a process in foreign policy; democracies make foreign policy differently, and they make different foreign policies. This argument is illustrated by chapters which evaluate the Canadian foreign and defence policy reviews, with particular attention to the involvement of diverse segments of Canadian society in the process, as well as by articles which examine the struggle for democracy in Russia, South Africa and parts of Latin America. Related to the focus on democracy are discussions of human rights in China and the impact on sovereignty of the globalization of finance. We are happy to acknowledge the financial support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Military and Strategic Studies Program of the Department of National Defence, and The Norman Paterson School of International Affairs. Brenda Sutherland has performed her now-legendary role of supervising the initial editing of the manuscript. Her assistance has been invaluable and the editors are happy to acknowledge their debt to her. Janet Doherty organized the authors' workshop and maintained continuous liaison with our contributors. Our thanks to her for her willingness to help with the project from its inception to its conclusion. Carleton University Press is again publishing Canada Among Nations and we are pleased by our continuing association with the Press. Vivian Cummins and• the School's Resource Centre assisted with materials on the Canadian foreign policy review. Larisa Galadza provided valuable assistance by preparing the glossary and helping to edit the volume. We are pleased to acknowledge the editorial and production assistance of David Lawrence, Noel Gates and John Flood. Albert Legault and John Sigler graciously allowed Doug Anglin to revise and update his contribution to their Les conflits dans le monde 1993-1994 (Quebec: Centre quebecois de relations internationales, 1994) for inclusion in this volume. Our hope is that Democracy and Foreign Policy contributes to the current debate over future directions for Canada's international policies. Maureen Appel Molot Maxwell Cameron Ottawa, March 1995

Introduction

Does Democracy Make a Difference?

MAXWELL A. CAMERON & MAUREEN APPEL MOLOT

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his book begins with a simple question: does democracy matter in the conduct of foreign policy? We argue that it matters both as a source and objective of foreign policy: democracies make foreign policy differently, and they make different foreign policies. Democracies frequently promote democracy abroad, they coexist peacefully with other democracies, and they wage war almost exclusively with non-democracies. These observations are well supported in the literature on the domestic sources of international conflict.' However, we still know little about why democracies pursue different foreign policies. One important argument is that democracy contributes to peace by eliminating the security dilemma among democracies. The security dilemma arises from the fact that states must protect themselves

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in an anarchic system of sovereign states. Each state contributes to the insecurity of the others by providing for its own defense. The problem is that states are unable to distinguish between the defensive and offensive intentions of their neighbours. States taking defensive measures to protect themselves unintentionally create collective insecurity. Can collective security be achieved by creating more democratic regimes and regimes that are more democratic? The foreign policies of democracies are different from those of non-democratic states because the policy process is more open and more representative of a broad range of domestic voices. In democratic regimes policies are the result of public choices: since the policy process is more open and observable than in dictatorships, foreign powers can distinguish more readily between the aggressive and the pacific intentions of democratic neighbouring states. War is costly in democracies even when it is broadly supported, and it is most costly when public support is low. Bruce Russett argues that institutional constraints make it more difficult for democratic leaders to drag their countries into war: "Not only may it take longer for democracies to gear up for war, the process is immensely more public than in an authoritarian state."' The literature on the democratic peace does not claim that democracies are less war-prone in their dealings with non-democracies. Not only do democracies engage in wars with non-democracies, but they often start them. Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman suggest that democracies often fight non-democracies because dictatorships seek to exploit the perceived weakness of democracies, giving democratic leaders the option of striking first or fighting back later.' Conflicts between democracies and non-democracies often revolve around the credibility of the threat of force from democratic leaders. The issues are illustrated by the United States' occupation of Haiti. The Haitian dictatorship broke an international agreement, assuming that the domestic costs of war would inhibit the United States from using force to restore the democratically elected President, Jean-Bertrand Aristide. It required a full-scale military mobilization, with 61 airborne transport planes filled with troops over the Caribbean, to force the Haitian junta to back down. In his address to the nation, prior to mobilizing for war, President Clinton

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provided moral and security grounds for an invasion, and also indicated that U.S. credibility was on the line: "the United States must protect our interests, to stop the brutal atrocities that threaten tens of thousands of Haitians; to secure our border and to preserve stability and promote democracy in our hemisphere, and to uphold the reliability of the commitments we make and the commitments others make to us."' Clinton's rationale for invading Haiti raises an interesting question: Does it follow from the assertion "democracies never go to war with each other"' that democracy should be promoted abroad in the interest of global peace? Leaving aside the difficulty of deriving statements about what ought to be from what is, are we justified in asserting that democracies have an interest in the promotion of democracy abroad? This question is tackled by Robert Jackson in his contribution to this volume. Jackson's point of departure is global society, and he is sceptical about the prudence of crusading for democracy, especially where the promotion of democracy conflicts with other values like security and non-intervention. Democracy is an important value held by the major powers in today's global society, but it is neither the only, nor the most important, one. Jackson's insistence that democracy be weighed against other values acquires special significance for a country like Canada, which has historically, and for good reasons, supported non-intervention and the rule of law in international affairs.The United States is less committed to anti-interventionist and anti-paternalist values, especially in the Western Hemisphere. In fact, it is in the Western Hemisphere that the assertion that democracies do not fight with each other seems less than convincing. Georg Sorensen concludes that "The United States turns against some democracies because it fears that they will hurt U.S. economic interests or they will develop into communist regimes, which threatens U.S. security interests, or they will do both. Thus, not every kind of democracy is smoothly integrated into the pacific union envisaged by ICant."6 Until recently, the idea that democracy and security could be linked was often dismissed out of hand. International relations theory contributed to scepticism about the importance of democracy in international relations. The prevailing wisdom held that there was

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little evidence to support the claim that democracies are more peaceful than authoritarian regimes. An extreme version of the view that democracy was irrelevant in international politics was formalized by neorealists, who argued that all domestic political attributes were irrelevant to the foreign policies of states; what mattered was the distribution of capabilities, the balance of power.' This view made sense in the intellectual climate of the Cold War, when the bipolar structure of the international system seemed to provide powerful constraints on the behaviour of states, regardless of their domestic attributes. The connection between democracy and security was obscured after World War II by the new alliance patterns: "democracy was seen more as a binding principle of the Cold War coalition against communism than as a force actively promoting peace among democracies themselves?' The end of the Cold War challenged the claim that the internal attributes of states are irrelevant to their external policies. Domestic sources of foreign policy have assumed renewed significance in postCold War international relations theory, and the hypothesis that democracies do not fight wars with each other takes pride of place in the new scholarship.' In retrospect, it can be seen that domestic forces were always crucial determinants of foreign policy—international alliances in the Cold War period may have been glued together as much by a shared acceptance of liberal democratic norms as they were by international power balancing.'" Can democracy make a difference in international relations after the Cold War? New patterns of conflict and cooperation are emerging in the absence of competition and rivalry between superpowers. Political anarchy—long thought to be the defining feature of international politics—is increasingly pervasive in the domestic politics in parts of Eastern and Central Europe and the former-Soviet Union. In a trenchant critique of the notion of democracy promotion as security policy,Thomas Carothers argues that many of the emerging democracies around the world have precarious roots and that therefore the proposition that democracies rarely go to war with one another may be "significantly less true in the post-Cold War era than in the past." Democracy may not guarantee security, but does the democratic process influence the definition of security? The fact that the Clinton

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administration would use the threat of force to restore Aristide to power in Haiti—in spite of widespread doubts about whether he would act in a manner congruent with u.s. interests—suggests the need for a careful look at the domestic process that leads to the definition of security interests in the post-Cold War world. In his chapter in this book, James Rochlin argues that new optics—such as feminism and ethnicity—better enable us to understand the impact on security of human rights abuses, racism, gender inequality, resource depletion, environmental destruction, population explosion and immigration. The war in the former Yugoslavia illustrated how international security in the post-Cold War system is inextricably linked to the capacity of states to provide domestic political order, and it also revealed the limited ability of organizations like the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) to reverse the breakdown of domestic political order. In her analysis of Russia in this volume, Andrea Chandler argues that statebuilding and the creation of democratic institutions are inseparable. She urges us to recognize that the problems of democratic transition in Russia are linked to the more fundamental problem of establishing good government. Chandler's argument also has significant implications for economic policy, for Russia has attempted to simultaneously transform the economy and the political system. The difficulties inherent in this transition should not, according to Chandler, be seen as a repudiation of markets or democracy, but they do reveal tensions between the two; moreover, events in Russia illustrate the fact that neither democracy nor markets can survive political disorder. Chandler's analysis confirms the aphorism: "an economic transaction is a solved political problem."' The Russian experience seems to suggest that problems of law enforcement, property rights, and social justice cannot be postponed until after shock therapy. DEMOCRACY AND MARKETS

The tensions between markets and democracy have been accentuated by globalization. Global production networks, intra-firm trade, and the deregulation of internationally mobile capital weaken the

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role of the state in the legitimation of social relations because the state now has fewer means to ensure employment, equity, and security. Globalization undermines the boundaries between states, and makes borders more permeable as a result of capital flows and the restructuring of multinational firms. Globalization of the international economy and intensification of competitive pressures have constrained the ability of states to regulate and control their international economic environment. It also creates powerful pressures for "harmonization" and "coordination" of polldes, euphemisms for the erosion of the domestic compact, the fraying of social safety nets, the bidding-down of wages, and the race to lower regulations and standards. John Gerard Ruggie's famous "compromise of embedded liberalism" has given way to what he now calls "the new disembeddedness."' Eric Helleiner examines the tension between democratic government and global finance in Chapter 14. He argues that financial deregulation removes basic choices about the organization of the economy from the democratic process, bolsters the power of.a financial elite that manages enormous, mobile financial assets, and heightens concern about the stability of the international financial system over domestic stability. Events at the end of 1994 illustrate the growing power of financial capital and the potential for financial instability created by massive flows of liquid capital, or "hot money;' around the global economy. The chapter by Grinspun, Galleguillos, and Roman in this volume presents an analysis of Mexico very different from that of the one-sided and incomplete view presented by policy makers, financial analysts, and the Salinas government—a view that contributed to the emergence of a speculative bubble. A speculative attack on the peso in December 1994, and a bungled effort at devaluation by the Mexican government, led to a fullscale financial crisis." In what financial analysts called "the largest socialization of market risk in international history,"" the Clinton administration arranged a bailout package for Mexico worth in excess of $50 billion. The speed and volume of financial transactions outpaced the ability of the international community to respond without discord. Six European countries abstained from supporting the Clinton plan in the International Monetary Fund (IMF) because

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they were given too little time to examine documents on the agreement before voting on the package!' The United States justified its haste by saying the speed of financial transactions left no alternative. Critics pointed to the problem of moral hazard created by the bailout!' More disturbingly, the crisis showcased the ability of financial markets to force the hands of the most powerful governments in the world. As one investor said: "Who says you have to be elected to influence policy?"' Canada was not immune to the crisis in Mexico. The run on the peso placed pressure on the Canadian dollar.The slide in the value of the Canadian dollar was primarily the result of uncertainty over Finance Minister Paul Martin's budget of February 27, 1995 and the referendum in Quebec, but Canada also shared a number of problems with Mexico. The Wall Street Journal wrote: "Mexico isn't the only U.S. neighbour flirting with the financial abyss. Turn around and check out Canada, which has now become an honorary member of the Third World in the unmanageability of its debt problem.' In a meeting with bankers, politicians and journalists in Toronto, Mexico's Foreign Affairs Minister, Jose Angel Gurria, noted that Canada's debt to gross domestic product ratio was twice that of Mexico.' With much of the Canadian debt held by foreigners, Canada is also vulnerable to the perceptions (often based on little information) of international creditors, investors, and currency traders who move billions of dollars into or out of countries at the tap of a keyboard. CANADIAN FOREIGN POLICY IN AN ERA OF FISCAL CONSTRAINT

Canadian foreign policy faces financial constraints and intensified competitive challenges. Economic competition has replaced geopolitical rivalry in the foreign policy agenda. Trade dominates the policy agenda of the major powers in the aftermath of the Cold War. In this new environment, some analysts question whether countries like Canada can afford to be "boy scouts?' in the world. In this view, Canada should move away from Pearsonian internationalism towards a more self-interested policy based on a narrower economic definition of interests.

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How would a self-interested "Team Canada" approach handle economically important countries with records on human rights that range from mediocre (say, Mexico) to appalling (for instance, China)? Jeremy Paltiel's analysis of Canada's relations with China in his chapter in this volume reveals a number of telling ironies. The Chinese government sought to resist pressures to improve human rights while fostering trade and investment. According to Paltiel, the Canadian government accepted the Chinese agenda, lured by the prospect of lucrative contracts in the third largest economy in the world. Despite compelling arguments for democracy, Canadians are rightly reluctant to impose their values on others. But self-doubt may have deeper roots. One source of doubt has been called by Maier a "moral crisis of democracy," which he claims has accompanied the failure of democratic institutions to address many of Canada's constitutional, economic, and political difficulties in recent years. The defense of democracy around the world is seen as misguided selfrighteousness at best, and hypocrisy at worst. Canada is already plagued enough at home with a sense of collective failure, a distrust of political representatives, and a loss of historical purpose or confidence in progress." The moral crisis of democracy is reinforced by the belief that "Western" political institution should not be imposed on other countries. Although such moral relativism is often difficult to sustain in the face of such inspiring struggles for democracy as that of the South Africans (see Douglas Anglin's chapter in this volume), or the heroism of the students at Tiananmen Square, it is true that in many countries around the world democracy is failing to take root. Disenchantment and indifference set in quickly when democratic institutions fail to deliver immediate material improvements. A similar form of "democratic disenchantment" has developed in Canada. This is partly derived from the fact that Canadians believe their politicians are out of touch, distant, and unresponsive. The foreign policy bureaucracy was singled out by the Liberal Party, while in opposition, as among the most distant and least responsive of the country's political institutions. "Democratization of foreign policy" became a familiar demand of the Liberals at that time.

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THE 1994 FOREIGN POLICY REVIEW

In the Liberal Party's handbook, Creating Opportunity (the Red Book)," and also in its May 1993 Foreign Policy Platform,' the Liberals advocated a foreign policy that was not based on "special relationships between world leaders"—an oblique reference to the foreign policy style of Brian Mulroney, who was then Conservative Prime Minister. The Red Book suggested that democracy should be both a source and an objective of Canadian foreign policy.' The Liberals promised to strengthen the role of Parliament in foreign policy, giving it the right to debate any major international agreement signed by the government. Moreover, they would give individual members of Parliament and parliamentary committees a greater role in the legislative process. To encourage greater government accountability, the Prime Minister would table an annual foreign policy statement, create a Centre for Foreign Policy Development, and establish a National Commission on Canada's International Relations to consult Canadians. The government promised to listen to the views of the non-governmental organizations (NG0s) concerned with Canadian aid policy and not to make a false distinction between domestic and foreign policy. The first step in meeting the Liberal government's commitment to a broader consultation on foreign policy was the organization of a Foreign Policy Forum in March 1994. The Forum brought together a range of Canadians with interests in foreign policy, academics, representatives of NG0s, former members of Canada's foreign service, aid agencies, business leaders, and journalists. The contribution of the Forum to the democratization of Canadian foreign policy will be considered below as part of a larger discussion of the expectations and the reality of popular participation in the foreign policy process. The second step was the establishment of two special joint committees of the House of Commons and Senate to examine, and make recommendations on, Canadian defence and foreign policies. Each parliamentary review was followed by a departmental policy statement, National Defence's 1994 Defence White Paper, issued under the signature of Defence Minister Collenette in December 1994," and Canada in the World, a Government Statement tabled in the House of

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Commons on February 7, 1995.n Foreign Affairs Minister, Andre Ouellet, and International Trade Minister Roy MacLaren, also sent a comprehensive response to each of the recommendations of the Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy (hereafter the Special Joint Committee).' Two special joint committees were struck rather than one because of the insistence of the Minister of National Defence that there be a separate defence review. As a new minister, Mr. Collenette, was anxious to put forward his own views on defence issues and perhaps, through a welltimed report, to reduce the impact on his department of the government's program review. Although the Department of Foreign Affairs and its minister argued for an integrated parliamentary review process, they reluctantly acceded to the proposal for separate reviews in the interest of moving the overall review process ahead. The two committees operated more or less simultaneously and there was little coordination between them. Robert Lawson assesses the process and content of the defence policy review in his chapter in this volume and argues that neither Security in a Changing World"—the joint committee's report—nor the 1994 Defence White Paper grappled realistically with the implications of the new post-Cold War security environment for Canadian defence needs. The remainder of this Chapter outlines the content of the foreign policy documents and evaluates the review process. The Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy The Special Joint Committee was chaired by Senator Allan MacEachen and Jean-Robert Gauthier M.P. (now Senator). It consisted of twenty-two members, of whom six were Senators. The only Conservative members of the Special Joint Committee were from the Senate. The Special Joint Committee's deliberations were shaped by a government-prepared "Guidance Paper for the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy" which reiterated the Liberal Party's 1993 foreign policy objectives and listed issues to which the committee should direct its attention." To give effect to the government's interest in the "democratization of the foreign policy process...with greater involvement by Canadians directly and

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through Parliament," the Special Joint Committee held hearings across Canada during the spring and summer of 1994. The Committee received 561 briefs and heard from more than 550 organizations or individuals in some 80 meetings.31 Of the briefs, more than half came from NGOs, 49 came from business and six from labour. The chapters in this volume by Nossal, Draimin and Plewes, and Whitworth all address the participation side of the Special Joint Committee process. The Special Joint Committee Report is a broad tour d'horizon of the verities and challenges of Canadian foreign policy The Report comprises eight substantive chapters addressing topics such as the changing global environment, security challenges and their implications for the Canadian forces, international trade and finance, sustainable development, international development assistance, culture and foreign policy, Canada's place in the world, and the democratization of foreign policy. There is no chapter on human rights; instead, references to human rights appear in different parts throughout the document. The Report suggests the need to broaden the definition of security to include the environment, the growing gap between rich and poor, and resource depletion. It notes the impact of globalization on economic life and on the capacity of governments to control what occurs within their borders. And it reiterates the close link between foreign and domestic policy. Members of the Special Joint Committee were impressed by the interest of the population in foreign policy and by "Canadians' deep commitment to human rights."32 Many of Canada's goals with respect to security and prosperity can only be pursued in concert with others.To this end the Report noted the importance of a rules-based international system and the value of a multilateral approach to international issues. "Directed multilateralism" is the phraseology employed to capture the idea that Canada should combine its participation in the most relevant multilateral institutions with "selected bilateral approaches to cooperation with those like-minded countries best situated to help advance the common cause.,,33 Parliamentary reviews of an area as diffuse as that of foreign policy are better suited to covering the diverse subject matter than they are to articulating clear directions for government policy The Special

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Joint Committee was not enjoined to be attentive to the government's fiscal constraints and did not attempt to cost any of its recommendations. Nor did it establish priorities amongst them. Although the Special Joint Committee Report acknowledged the constraints on Canada's financial resources, many of its recommendations implicitly or explicitly call for the allocation of additional resources.The Reform Party's dissent criticizes the Committee's lack of attention to the costs of its recommendations and its failure to rank government programs.' There are some directions in the Special Joint Committee Report which are worthy of note if only because they provide benchmarks against which past and future foreign policy analyses can be measured. The first is Chapter 6, "Projecting Canadian Culture and Learning Abroad." The Special Joint Committee was heavily influenced by the arguments of Professor Franklyn Griffiths of the University of Toronto and John Ralston Saul that culture should be a significant component of foreign policy and that the government must increase the dollars devoted to the export of Canadian culture." Canada spends a very small amount of money on international culture, science and education relative to France, Germany, apan and the United Kingdom.' In fact, cultural exports are profitable for Canada and may well increase trade. The Committee Report noted that "[t]he projection of Canadian culture and learning abroad should...be regarded as a fundamental dimension of Canadian foreign policy' and made a number of suggestions about the steps the government could take to give concrete expression to this aspect of its external stance. The second direction is found in the discussion in Chapter 7 which addresses Canada's place in the world.This is always a sensitive topic because it encompasses Canada's relations with the United States as well as Canada's capacity to pursue its interests around the globe. The Report articulates a position ("With its membership in NAFTA Canada is now part of the evolving North American region...") and at once hastens to add that the Americas should not be the limit of Canada's vision. "Canada has important transatlantic and transpacific interests" as well as global concerns that require its active participation across continents. Moreover Canada should

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attempt "to build bridges between continents."38 There are a number of points at issue here: one is the challenge of managing the complexities of Canada's relationship with the only global superpower in a fashion that protects "Canadian sovereignty and independence;"" another is the recognition that Canada's current and future trade relationships and opportunities lie in Latin America and Asia-Pacific rather than in Europe; and the third, rather less baldly articulated, is the pursuit of economic opportunity, which carries with it resource implications. A third theme of interest is the advocacy of a continuing role for Parliament in the Canadian foreign policy process. At one level the promotion of an ongoing parliamentary role in foreign policy echoes the government's charge to the Committee with respect to democratization. At another it reveals a parliamentary concern about government accountability and the lack of transparency in Canada's participation in some international institutions.While this was a particular focus of Reform Party attention,' all members agreed that there should be annual reports by ministers and Canadian executive directors of the World Bank, the IMF, and the regional development banks to the parliamentary committees on foreign affairs and finance," as well as regular parliamentary reviews of Canadian aid and the performance of the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA)." Although the Special Joint Committee Report was endorsed by all members of the committee, there were differences amongst the members which were reflected in a dissenting report issued by the Bloc Quebecois and a dissenting opinion submitted by the Reform Party. Reference has already been made above to the Reform Party's dissatisfaction with the Committee's refusal to recommend budgetary cuts in foreign policy programs. Reform disassociated itself from the recommendations on culture which would necessitate additional spending and criticized the lack of coordination between the defence and foreign policy reviews. That party also expressed unhappiness with the lack of opportunity for "ordinary Canadians" to participate in the foreign policy review process." The Bloc dissent was more substantive, its content reflecting the party's raison d'etre. The Bloc expressed its dissatisfaction with the

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existence of two review committees and with the participation of senators in the committee process. Substantively, it argued that foreign policy was not the preserve of the federal government alone. A number of areas of foreign policy fall under provincial jurisdiction and these should be left to the provinces. (Mace, Belanger and Bernier discuss the role of the provinces in Canadian foreign policy, with specific attention to the experience of Quebec, in their chapter in this volume). The two topics on which the Bloc was most vociferous were culture and human rights. It questioned the premise of a single Canadian culture and argued that any projection abroad of a unified image of Canada would be detrimental to Quebec. On human rights it castigated the Special Joint Committee Report for a "superficial and inconsistent" treatment of the subject in the chapters on international trade and international assistance; from the Bloc's perspective, the topic is so important that human rights and democracy warranted a separate chapter in the Committee's report." The Government Response: Canada in the World The Government's response to the Special Joint Committee Report came in the form of a statement tabled in the House of Commons, rather than the white paper format adopted by the Department of National Defence. This organization of the process, a parliamentary report followed by a government paper, reversed the procedure adopted by the Conservatives in their foreign policy review of 1985; on that occasion the government's policy paper, Competitiveness and Security's was followed by parliamentary hearings. Moreover, this Government Statement is not the final word on the Liberal government's foreign policy; rather, Canada in the World is seen as establishing a basis for a continuing process of dialogue. The Government Statement was drafted by the Policy Staff of the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade (DFAIT), with input from senior officers at CIDA on the international assistance section of the document. Foreign Affairs Minister André Ouellet devoted considerable time to the process, reviewing the draft on a number of occasions. The statement also captured the interest of the Prime Minister, who participated in the discussion of the draft in cabinet. Given the other pressing items on its agenda, the government gave

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the foreign policy statement more attention than DFAIT officials had expected. In actual fact, as DFAIT officials noted, the government's major concerns—economic growth and unemployment and national unity—are explicitly or implicitly addressed in the statement. Canada in the World identifies three objectives that will guide the government's foreign policy decisions in the next few years: "the promotion of prosperity and employment; the protection of our security, within a stable global framework; and the projection of Canadian values and culture.'" The three objectives are compatible and mutually reinforcing; the placing of economic goals first did not privilege these above the other two in the Department's eyes. From DFAIT's perspective, the three objectives constitute a set of measures for evaluating decisions to be taken. Never before has the Department articulated criteria for measuring its policy choices quite so explicitly. Although the government statement came too late to influence the Department's estimates for the 1995-96 fiscal year, those for the next fiscal year will be expressed in terms of these new fundamental principles of Canadian foreign policy. Resources within DFAIT will be allocated in accordance with their contribution to the attainment of these objectives. The Government Statement agrees with most of the recommendations of the Special Joint Committee Report!' Differences exist primarily over questions of Official Development Assistance (ODA). For example, whereas the Special Joint Committee recommended the adoption of legislation that would spell out the basic principles to guide Canadian ODA, the government argued that its six program priorities for ODA were sufficient to focus these aid activities. Similarly the Committee Report argued for untying aid and the concentration of ODA on fewer recipients; the government replied that tied aid is of benefit to both Canada and the recipient and that Canada's interests around the globe make any a priori limit on the number of aid recipients difficult." Canada in the World is a statement that justifies the need for both DFAIT and CIDA and announces the creation of new mechanisms to ensure policy coordination. From the perspective of CIDA what is important in the Government Statement is the clear recognition that

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aid is an instrument for achieving Canadian foreign policy objectives. The Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade fulfils its role in the advancement of Canada's economic well-being through support for international economic institutions, the promotion of freer trade (in Asia-Pacific and Latin America), and assistance to Canadian firms to increase their participation in the international economy. DFAIT identifies a central leadership function for itself in promoting coherence of international activities across departments in order to facilitate the attainment of the government's policy objectives. To this end, DFAIT and CIDA will establish a new committee, chaired by the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, "to oversee coordination between the two organizations:" DFAIT is also assuming responsibility for the management of the range of the now not-sonew international issues, the environment, population growth, international migration, international crime, and democratization, to name but a few. To discharge this new role the Department is creating a Bureau for Global Issues under an Assistant Deputy Minister. This new bureau will also be responsible for international cultural relations." Like the Special Joint Committee Report, Canada in the World covers a broad range of topics. The difference is that this is a statement of government direction and therefore its phraseology has to be more carefully analyzed for clues on priorities. What is foremost is the emphasis on economic self-interest: "Influence depends increasingly on the strength of economic relations.... The promotion of prosperity and employment is at the heart of the Government's agenda."5' Traditional and more recent foreign policy concerns, global stability, peacekeeping, development assistance, the environment and population, are all present, but not primary. The government opted not to engage in the debate over Canada's place in the world that was presented in Chapter 7 of the Special Joint Committee Report. In the government's view, Canada has global interests; we fit where our objectives take us. Each region of the world has relevance for Canada in different ways.What is important is the flexibility to seek allies on issues as support is needed. The Government Statement adopts a slightly different perspective in its discussion of the Canada-U.S. relationship from that of the Special Joint Committee. There is in the Special Joint Committee

CAMERON & APPEL MOLOT 17

Report a hint of the "third option" of the Trudeau government (which argued for diversification of Canadian trade away from the United States)." This attitude may reflect the influence of Committee Co-Chair, Senator MacEachen, who was member of that earlier Liberal government. While there is no doubt that a trade dependent country like Canada must seek new trade opportunities, and that U.S. protectionism is an omnipresent concern, the tone of the Report underestimates the export advantage Canadian goods and services enjoy in the U.S. market; it also implies that the complexities of the,bilateral relationship pose difficulties for Canada that might be ameliorated through a broadening of Canada's trading partners and the search for counterweights.' The United States is the one country singled out for specific attention in the Government Statement. This treatment recognizes the overriding importance of managing Canada's economic relationship with the United States both directly and through multilateral fora. Although the intensity of the bilateral relationship generates inevitable tensions—such as those during 1994 over durum wheat and cultural industries—the Government Statement purposively places a positive interpretation on the resolution of Canada-U.S. differences, describing them as "differences between sovereign partners, acting as equals within [their] relationship?' Any divergence in interpretation of the relationship between the Parliamentary and Government documents, notwithstanding, it is clear that the Chretien government has adopted a more staid, business-like, style toward the Canada-U.S. relationship than its predecessor. Under the Chretien Liberals embassies and foreign service professionals play a more prominent role in the management of bilateral ties and capital visits and face-to-face meetings between heads of government have become less significant. Prime Minister Chretien and President Clinton did meet at a number of international gatherings during 1994; the first visit of one to the other's capital came with President Clinton's visit to Ottawa in February 1995. The major weakness of Canada in the World is its reluctance to make choices. The Statement notes the support of Canadians for an active foreign policy and Canada's global interests. It also recognizes the constraints on Canada's fiscal capacity; Canada can no longer do

18

DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

everything. The three objectives of Canadian foreign policy cited above are the touchstones against which policy choices will be made. But how will choices in fact be made? There are many steps between the articulation of goals and the specification of criteria against which alternative policy options and personnel decisions can be evaluated. How will we decide where our scarce resources should be spent, how much should go to the promotion of Canadian culture abroad, now identified as one of three overriding government foreign policy priorities, to which international organizations we should continue to belong, in which peacekeeping missions we should participate, which countries should continue to receive Canadian aid? DFAIT will face challenges to its determination to exercise overall leadership on the broad range of issues Canada in the World now defines as part of its mandate. Many of these subjects fall under the jurisdiction of other departments. There is no question that it is increasingly difficult to separate international and domestic policy and that within government there is currently no satisfactory mechanism for coordination. The lack of a foreign affairs committee within the current cabinet also means that there is no mirror committee of officials. While the joint DFAIT-CIDA coordinating committee may indeed produce a much needed strengthening of policy coordination between these organizations, it will not be easy for the new DFAIT Bureau for Global Issues to assume the lead amongst departments long suspicious of the knowledge base and style of Foreign Affairs. WHAT IS A DEMOCRATIC FOREIGN POLICY?

The Chretien government made much of its determination to consult with Canadians on foreign policy. This consultation is not to end with the publication of Canada in the World, but to continue on a regular basis. There will be annual fora, though future meetings will be smaller than the March 1994 Forum in Ottawa, will take place outside the capital, and will debate topics far narrower than the entire foreign policy agenda. Moreover, Parliament will continue to play a role in foreign policy, through debates on major foreign policy issues and through the committee process."

CAMERON & APPEL MOLOT 19

Given the government's intention to continue to consult with Canadians on matters of foreign policy it is essential to raise questions about the significance of this strategy—beyond the crass political motive of adhering to election campaign promises. Is a democratic foreign policy one in which the largest number of "average citizens" participate, or where a balance is struck between a wide spectrum of politically relevant stakeholders, such that no major group's interests and values are overruled? There is no single answer to this question and the views expressed in this book often reflect normative differences among the authors, as well as diverse interpretations of the meaning of democracy What are the sources of disagreement about the appropriate scope of public participation in the foreign policy review process? Different views of democracy are associated with interests, incentives to participate, and problems of collective action. For example, business executives are mainly concerned with improving their "bottom line." They therefore have little incentive to participate, except where the policy process directly affects their interests. Moreover, business executives often have direct access to policy makers. As one government official put it: when business executives want to influence policy "they pick up the phone and call Foreign Affairs?' Thus, these leaders may feel that they do not need to participate, that the review process is irrelevant, and that what counts is access to the cabinet and the foreign policy bureaucracy. Groups in civil society want to participate as actively as possible in the formulation of policy. At the same time, they often have less direct access to policy makers, and are more easily induced to participate with the promise of influencing the broad goals of policy. Indeed, they often see a great intrinsic value in participating in the policy process.Yet, precisely because groups in civil society represent heterogeneous constituencies, they also confront major collective action problems. The government needs public participation in the policy process to justify its existence before the electorate, especially the attentive elites. Public involvement increases the legitimacy of the state, and may enhance the quality of statecraft. If some participation is an asset, however, too much can politicize the policy process and make the

20 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

policy maker's life miserable. The government therefore prefers a moderate level of participation. What level of participation would be the most democratic? Assuming that the groups in civil society are the most broadly representative, then the highest level of participation would be preferred by the largest number of people; yet that would be the worst situation for the government and business. Perhaps a moderate level of participation—which is best outcome for the government, and second-best for business and civil society—is equally democratic." The attitudes and behaviour of business, civil society, and government, to the foreign policy review process support the contention that business had little interest in participation, groups in civil society were the most active, and the government sought a middle ground of limited, carefully-managed participation. For example, business participation in the review process was minimal. Business briefs predictably focused on trade, investment, and financial issues. As previously mentioned, the NGOs made the majority of the submissions. Much of their input revolved around broader issues, such as whether Canadian policy should be driven by values of community and civility or practical goals and economic self-interest. The NGO briefs gave prominence to the importance of civil society; democracy, human rights and peoplecentred development as objectives of Canadian foreign policy. Policy makers made an effort to encourage participation within a circumscribed process. Their self-defined role was that of the honest broker. At times, government officials reacted angrily to the vigorous and vociferous participation of the NGOs. They cautioned that the process was a "long, slow, intricate waltz, not a flashdance."58 But they also reacted with dismay to the lack of interest in the process exhibited by the business community. Above all, government officials tended to believe that the larger public was largely uninterested in foreign affairs and wanted the government, as much as possible, to go about its business without bothering them. Although the NGOs were more vocal in promoting their goals in the Forum than was business, the views of business were more often reflected in the opinions expressed by government officials. Some observers left the March 1994 foreign policy Forum with the distinct impression that the views of the NGO community were too

CAMERON & APPEL MOLOT 21

radical to have any impact on foreign policy; for their part, the NGOs were disappointed to find that both business and government accepted globalization as an inevitability rather than a force to be resisted. Some felt, quite correctly, that the government seemed to be more interested in using consultations to manage stakeholders than in improving or democratizing the foreign policy process. The foreign policy review was in fact designed to manage stakeholders, not to encourage mass participation. For government officials, an excessively high level of participation would politicize the foreign policy process, alienate business, and hinder the management of the affairs of state. As the experience of democratization in other countries has shown (see the discussion of this issue in Jean Daudelin's chapter), those who value democracy often have to avoid antagonizing powerful players whose acceptance of the democratic process is the sine qua non of democratic stability. CONCLUSION

The idea of democratizing the foreign policy process has been one of the central issues in the discussion of Canadian foreign policy in 1994-1995. It has stimulated a useful debate about the role of the public in foreign policy, and about the appropriate goals of a foreign policy in a democracy. Clearly there are different views about what a democratic foreign policy should look like, and it has been the objective of this book to explore these views. The book begins with the question: does democracy make a difference in the conduct of foreign policy? Discussion of this question is the subject of the entire volume. We have argued that democracy matters in the conduct of foreign policy, both because democracies conduct foreign policies in a more open and public way, and because democracies formulate and pursue foreign policy objectives in ways that have the potential to contribute to international security, broadly defined. Beyond this, the discussion of democracy and foreign policy raises thorny and intractable problems that force us to ask fundamental questions about the nature of the interstate system, the meaning of democracy, and how we weigh democracy against the pursuit of other legitimate values and interests in international affairs.

11

DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

The contributors to this book have addressed these issues in the context of the current review of foreign policy and the debate on democracy and foreign policy. Some disagree with the premise that "democracy matters."The tone of many of the chapters is decidedly, perhaps surprisingly, sceptical of the idea of the democratization of foreign policy. Our purpose was not to present a single answer to this debate, but rather to bring together a broad spectrum of specialists on Canadian foreign policy in an effort to explore competing views of the role of democracy, both as a domestic source and an objective of foreign policy, in order to contribute to what can only be a constructive discussion of Canada's role in the world.

NOTES 1 For a review, see Joe D. Hagan, "Domestic Political Systems and War Proneness," Mershon International Studies Review, 38, no. 2 (1994), 183-207. 2 Bruce Russett, Grasping the Democratic Peace, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993) 38. 3 See Bruce Bueno de Mesquita and David Lalman, War and Reason, (New Haven:Yale University Press, 1992). 4 From a speech by President Clinton. See "Clinton's Speech: The Reasons Why," New York Times, September 16, 1994,A10. 5 Bruce Russett, Grasping, 11. 6 Georg Sorensen, Democracy and Democratization, (Boulder: Westview Press, 1993), 105. 7 Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics, (Reading-Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1979). 8 Bruce Russett, Grasping, 10. 9 Michael W. Doyle, "Liberalism and World Politics," American Political Science Review, 80 (1986), 1151-69; David Lake, "Powerful Pacifists: Democratic States and War," American Political Science Review, 86, no. 1 (1992), 24-37; Charles W. Kegley Jr., "The Neoidealist Moment in International Studies?" International Studies Quarterly, 37, no. 2 (1993), 131-46. 10 Zeev Maoz and Bruce Russett, "Normative and Structural Causes of Democratic Peace, 1946-1986," American Political Science Review, 87, no. 3 (1993), 624-38.

CAMERON & APPEL MOLOT 23

11 Thomas Carothers, "The Democracy Nostrum," World Policy Journal, 11, no. 3, (1994), 48, 50. 12

The aphorism is attributed to Abba Lerner, who goes on to say: "Economics has gained the title of queen of the social sciences by choosing solved political problems as its domain" (cited in Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis, "The Revenge of Homo Economicus: Contested Exchange and the Revival of Political Economy," Journal of Economic Perspectives, 7, no. 1 [1993], 86).

13 John G. Ruggie, "Trade, Protectionism, and the Future of Welfare Capitalism,"Journa/ of International Affairs, 48, no. 1 (1994), 8-11. 14 The crisis was anticipated by Rudiger Dornbusch and Alejandro Werner, "Mexico: Stabilization, Reform, and No Growth;' Brookings Papers on Economic Activity, 1 (1994), 253-93. 15 William Glasgall, "Welcome to the New World Order of Finance," Business Week, February 13, 1995, 38. 16 "Western Allies Rebuff Clinton in Mexico Vote:' New York Times, February 3, 1995, Al. 17 Moral hazard refers to the problem that insurance policies, broadly speaking, may create incentives for irresponsible behaviour. The bailout of Mexico establishes a precedent under which another actor, like Russia, might expect similar treatment. I am grateful to Dane Rowlands for this observation. See also "To the Rescuer The Economist, February 4, 1995, 13. 18 "Borderless Finance: Fuel for Growth," Business Week, Special 1994 Business Issue, January 24, 1995. We are grateful to Tim Draimin for calling attention to this issue. 19 Reprinted in "Canada 'Bankrupt' U.S. Paper Warns," Toronto Star, January 13, 1995, B3. 20 "Mexican Minister Aims to Calm Investors' Fears;' Toronto Star, January 13, 1995, B3. 21 Charles S. Maier, "Democracy and its Discontents:' Foreign Affairs 73, no. 4, 48-64. 22 Maier, "Democracy." 23 Liberal Party of Canada, Creating Opportunity: The Liberal Plan for Canada (Ottawa, 1993). 24 Liberal Party of Canada, Foreign Policy Platform (Ottawa, May 1993), Mimeo. 25 Liberal Party of Canada, Creating Opportunity. 26 The Department of National Defence, 1994 Defence White Paper, (Ottawa, December, 1994).

24 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

27 Canada, Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, Canada in the World: Government Statement (Ottawa: Canada Communications Group, 1995). 28 Canada, Government Response to the Recommendations of the Special Joint Parliamentary Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy (Ottawa: Canada Communications Group, 1995). 29 Senate and House of Commons, The Report of the Special Joint Committee on Canada's Defence Policy, Security in a Changing World (hereafter termed Security), (Ottawa, 1994), 1. 30 This "Guidance Paper" is reprinted in Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services Canada, 1994), 33-35. Hereafter cited as

Dissenting Opinions. 31 Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future, (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services Canada 1994, 85-86). Hereafter cited as Special Joint Committee, Report. 32

Dissenting Opinions, 1.

33 Special Joint Committee, Report, 81. 34

Dissenting Opinions, 30.

35 Special Joint Committee, Report, 60-62. See also Saul's position paper "Culture and Foreign Policy," prepared for the Committee and published with the Committee's Report in November. John Ralston Saul, "Culture and Foreign Policy" Canada's Foreign Policy: Position Papers (Ottawa: Canada Communications Group, 1994). 36 See table in Special Joint Committee, Report, 62. 37 Special Joint Committee, Report, 62. 38 Special Joint Committee, Report, 78. 39 Special Joint Committee, Report, 77. 40 See Dissenting Opinions, 31. 41 42 43 44

Dissenting Opinions, 38-39. Dissenting Opinions, 51. Dissenting Opinions, 30-32. Dissenting Opinions, 16.The Bloc's dissent comprises 26 pages.

45 Department of External Affairs, Competitiveness and Security: Directions for Canada's International Relations (Ottawa: Minister of Supply and Services, 1985).

CAMERON & APPEL MOLOT 25

46

Canada in the World, i and 10. Some of what follows is based on an interview with officials of the Department of External Affairs and International Trade, February 8, 1995.

47 See Government Response. 48

Government Response, 60-68.

49

Canada in the World, 50.

50

Canada in the World, 50.

51

Canada in the World, i-u.

52 Hon. Mitchell Sharp, "Canada-U.S. Relations: Options for the Future," International Perspectives (Autumn 1972). 53 The Bloc Quebecois dissent criticized the Special Joint Committee Report's analysis of Canada-U.S. relations. See Dissenting Opinions, 21-22. 54

Canada in the World, 15.

55

Canada in the World, 48-49.

56 Comment by an official of the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, who spoke on condition of anonymity. Ottawa, December 8, 1994. 57 This point can be nicely illustrated with a simple example. Moderates, conservatives, and radicals rank their preferences over levels of participation in the foreign policy process, from best (1), to second best (2), to worst (3). Each is given a percentage that reflects the total votes they can deliver: Participation Level Low Moderate High Moderates (25%)

2

1

3

Conservatives (30%)

1

2

3

Radicals (45%)

3

2

1

Under plurality rule, high participation wins the most votes. But moderate participation beats the other alternatives in pairwise majority voting. Thus, whether moderate or high participation is more democratic depends on whether you prefer the plurality winner or the Condorcet winner. The example comes from "Common Questions and Fundamental Facts about Rational Choice Approaches:' Hoover Summer Program on International Politics. Available upon request from the editors, The Norman Paterson School of International Affairs, Carleton University, 1125 Colonel By Drive, Ottawa, Ontario, K1S 5B6. 58 Interview with DFAIT officials. Ottawa, February 8, 1995.

Democracy and the Canadian Foreign Policy Process

II The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy: The Elusive Ideal

KIM RICHARD NOSSAL

Discussions about the democratization of Canadian foreign policy are invariably ambiguous, imprecise, and heavily dependent on context. This is because democratization tends to refer to two markedly different political phenomena. On the one hand, democratization refers to an essentially external phenomenon: the pursuit of democracy as a goal of Canadian foreign policy, and the various efforts undertaken by the Canadian government to encourage the embrace of democratic ideals and practices by other governments and peoples. On the other hand, democratization can also refer to an internal condition: the degree to which Canadian foreign policy itself is democratic. Which meaning one is referring to, the external or the internal, is therefore always highly dependent on context, and, I will argue, not always logically related.

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As the chapter by Robert H. Jackson in this volume suggests, when we speak of the embrace of democratization by the Canadian government as a foreign policy goal, we tend to have a fairly clear idea of what we mean by the term. Generally, we know what democratization is designed to achieve; and, most importantly, we have a fairly well-developed sense of when a political community is or is not democratic. For example, we assess the degree to which the polity is governed from, by, and for the people, the many, the demos, as opposed to the elite, or the few. Asking one of the political scientist's most enduring questions—Cui Bono (who benefits)?—we also seek to assess in whose interests the political community is organized, searching for evidence of utilitarian value-maximization implicit in such ideas as the greatest good of the greatest number. On to such discussions we then tend to layer a range of subsidiary constructs that we deem to be important indicators of liberal democracy. Included in these are normative ideas such as popular sovereignty; the political equality of all adult citizens; governance by the consent of the governed, which usually involves elections which must be free and fair; the existence of a set of political and civil rights and liberties, including the right of assembly, of free speech, of political organization, and of opposition to the regime; the rule of law, including a fair and independent judiciary and a range of juridical rights, among which the most important is equality before the law We also seek evidence of equitable participation of all citizens, regardless of class, ethnicity, gender or other attributes, in the political life of the community. In other words, when Canadians speak of democratization as a goal of Canadian foreign policy applied to other states in the international community, they know, putting it bluntly, what they want to see: they know how they want others in the international community to organize their political communities (i.e., just as Canadians organize their polity); they know how they want foreigners to behave in the political sphere (just as Canadians do); they know how they want foreign governments to organize themselves and act on the citizens within their jurisdictions (in just the same way as the Canadian government). Thus, armed with a set of measures of democratization defined by themselves, Canadians have no difficulty in measuring the democratic performance of foreign governments and peoples.

NOSSAL 31

However, when the term democratization is applied to the domestic context of Canadian foreign policy, we see an interesting paradox. For the debate about democratization gets turned around as it moves from the external (the political forms and practices of foreigners) to the internal (the political forms and practices of Canadians).This may at first blush seem perplexing, for at one level, at least, Canadians already have achieved, for the most part, the political forms and the political practices that they seek so ardently to encourage by persuasion (or, more commonly, to impose by coercion or condemnation) on others in the international system. In other words, the Canadian political system is already marked by the institutions of representative government that exist by the consent, albeit hypothetical,' of the broad mass of Canadian adult citizens, exercised periodically in elections that by general concurrence are both fair and free from coercion. Citizens enjoy both liberty and, to a more contested degree, equality. Moreover, a range of political and civil rights is embedded in both rhetoric—in the form of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in the constitution—and also in practice, as their entrenchment is deepened by numerous Charter challenges that have since 1982 made their way through the Supreme Court. Finally, both that court, and others in the Canadian judicial system, have all the hallmarks of a judiciary that is independent of the executive. In short, if we were to ask whether Canadians themselves have achieved the "democratic ideals" that they are wont to press on others in the international system, the answer most probably would be in the affirmative. But if we were to pose the obvious corollary question—is then Canada's foreign policy democratic (as it should logically be if Canada has achieved the democratic ideal it seeks to encourage in others)?—we see an interesting shift in the use of the term "democratic." In response to the empirical question "Is Canadian foreign policy democratic?" the answer from many quarters tends to be a loud and firm "No." And in response to the prescriptive question "Should Canadian foreign policy be democratized?" the common answer rings equally loud and equally firm, but this time, "Yes." For example, a recurrent theme in the run-up to the 1993 general election campaign was criticism by the opposition of the foreign policy of the defeated Progressive Conservative government,

32

DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

emphasizing in particular how "undemocratic" Canada's foreign policy was. An equally recurrent theme was the promise and prospect that, with a change of government, Canadian foreign policy would be "democratized."The most vocal proponent of a democratized foreign policy was Lloyd Axworthy, who, before his appointment as Minister of Human Resources in the new Liberal government, had been the external affairs critic for the Liberal party. While in opposition, the Liberals had argued that the Progressive Conservative government seemed "unwilling to carry on a serious dialogue with the Canadian people on foreign policy issues," rarely consulting either the public or Parliament on important foreign policy decisions.' The party claimed that, while in opposition, it had "set out to democratize the process" by organizing "roundtables, public meetings on such issues as the circumpolar Arctic, human rights and the war in Bosnia." The Liberals claimed that they were the first party to initiate a public discussion of UN reform. Likewise, the Liberal party's campaign platform for 1993—the so-called Red Boole—also stressed the importance of ensuring that "efforts to seek democracy, openness, and respect for human rights in the world must be reflected at home in our institutions and structures."The Red Book promised that as part of the commitment to democratization, a Liberal government would establish a National Forum on Canada's International Relations to discuss foreign policy issues.' Echoes of this critique persisted after the change of government in November 1993. When, for example, the House of Commons debated the issue of Canada's contribution to peacekeeping in Bosnia in January 1994, a common theme sounded by many of the speakers was that such debates were a refreshing change in the direction of opening up the policy process to parliamentary input. Indeed, many speakers during this debate complained that there had been no debates on foreign policy at all during the Mulroney era, and praised the Chretien government for holding such debates.' (It should be noted, however, that such complaints were the result of unfortunate memory lapses by MPs, who appeared to have forgotten that they had in fact participated in numerous foreign affairs debates during the Mulroney era—on South Africa, on Central America, on the

NOSSAL

Tiananmen massacre, on free trade, not to mention the extensive and unprecedented three-day debate on the GulfWar.)6 The Chretien government also sought to fulfil its Red Book promise to organize a National Forum on Canada's International Relations. Co-sponsored by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Andre Ouellet, and the Minister of National Defence, David Collenette, a Forum was held on March 21 and 22,1994, in Ottawa. It was attended by more than a hundred experts in international affairs drawn from academe, the non-governmental organization (NGO) community, and business. Although it was in part designed to launch the Liberal government's dual reviews of foreign and defence policy, this forum was touted as a new departure for the making of foreign policy in Canada. The meeting, according to Neville Nankivell of the Financial Post, "threw up ... an extraordinary diversity of advice,"' but it nonetheless served to focus attention on the supposedly new consultative process that was about to unfold in the review initiated by special joint committees of the Senate and the House of Commons. And when the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy (hereafter Special Joint Committee) was established by the government, it had to include democratization in its deliberations: the Committee was instructed to consider the government's desire to democratize the foreign policy process, "with greater involvement by Canadians directly and through Parliament?' Clearly the Committee was meant to assume that the existing level of public involvement was inadequate. In other words, the discussions about the democratization of Canadian foreign policy in 1993 and 1994 suggest that when Canadians are talking about the democratization of foreign policy internally, they tend not to mean the achievement of the various political indicators to which they refer, when talking about democratization externally, as a goal of Canadian foreign policy On the contrary: domestically, the word democratization is used to mean something very different. However, precisely what is meant in the domestic context is not at all clear. If some of the critical literature on Canadian foreign policy is reviewed at least one common thread in discussions of the democratization of foreign policy emerges. That is that foreign policy is

33

34 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

undemocratic because it is elitist, made by a few in the interests of a few. In this view, the policy making process is dominated by a minority of officials in the federal bureaucracy. Decisions are made without public input or public consultation. If, in days gone by, international affairs in Europe were frequently characterized as the "sport of kings," in Canada, these critics suggested, foreign policy might instead be seen as the "sport of mandarins" in the Lester B. Pearson Building and the Langevin Block. In this critical perspective, someone is always being left out of the foreign policy making process. Lloyd Axworthy, foreign affairs critic for the Liberal party when it was in opposition, called the foreign affairs bureaucracy a "closed shop."' Likewise, Betty Plewes, president of the Canadian Council for International Cooperation, has argued that foreign policy tends to be "decided by stealth,' a theme that is revisited in her contribution with Tim Draimin in this volume. Likewise, Sandra Whitworth's article in this collection speaks to the almost invisible role of women and gender in the foreign policy process." It is worth noting that the plaint that someone is being left out of the foreign policy making process in Canada has a long history. James M. Minifie's critique of Canadian defence policy, written in the late 1950s, emphasized the role of a closed policy making process in perpetuating what he argued were outmoded policy perspectives." Likewise, Franklyn Griffiths, writing a quarter of a century ago in the waning days of the Liberal government of Lester B. Pearson, also focused on the dosed nature of Canadian foreign policy making. Griffiths contended that the foreign policy process in Canada was a "closed circuit;' dominated by state officials, and excluding outsiders. In his view there should be an "enlarged participation" in foreign policy making, an enlargement that was "necessary both for a fuller realization of the parliamentary democracy to which we are committed and for a better integration of the Canadian political community" In Griffiths' view, the most effective way to ensure that the policy process would be opened up was to ensure that what he called "intermediate groups" were involved more closely in the policy making process. Among these intermediate groups Griffiths included church and professional associations, trade unions, businesses, ethnic and expatriate organizations, as well as such bodies as the United Nations Association in Canada.'3

NOSSAL

To be sure, there were those, like John W. Holmes, who were willing to argue that a democratic foreign policy did not depend on average citizens involving themselves in the minutiae of policy; that, on the contrary, the essential dangers of politics in an anarchic world demanded management by an elite schooled in the intricacies of foreign policy and international affairs." But such voices have been relatively rare: the tendency has been to accept the critique that Canadian foreign policy is undemocratic because it is made in a "closed" fashion. However, the conflation of a closed policy process with an undemocratic policy tends to mask a thorny analytical problem; it is rarely explained by critics of the foreign policy making process precisely why an open policy making process is necessarily more democratic than a closed one. Rather, it tends to be accepted as an article of faith that there is a link between open policy making systems and democratic policy making. To illustrate the problems flowing from acceptance of this article of faith, we can usefully contrast the adoption of new foreign policy directions by the government of William Lyon Mackenzie King in the late 1940s with the setting of new foreign policy priorities by the government of Jean Chretien in the mid-1990s. In January 1947, Louis St. Laurent, King's Secretary of State for External Affairs, gave the Gray Lecture, generally held to be the starting point of a new era in Canadian foreign policy." However, this important speech, which was to lay out an approach to world affairs that would guide Canada's policy for the following decades, was formulated on the advice of state officials alone. There were no parliamentary reports; there was no outside consultation; there was no extended public discussion of the pros and cons of the old and the new In contrast, in the 1994 foreign policy review, which represented the first extended review of Canadian foreign policy in the post-Cold War era, there was considerable public input and consultation and discussion. A Special Joint Committee, composed of members of the House of Commons and the Senate, spent seven months considering 561 briefs, holding over 80 meetings in ten cities in Canada and three abroad, hearing from over 550 witnesses, and in the process generating over 10,000 pages in parliamentary testimony." In short, between

35

36 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

the end of the Second World War and the most recent efforts to set new directions for Canadian foreign policy, we have seen a marked opening up of the policy process, manifest in the numbers of citizens involved in that process. But the question remains: was the foreign policy pursued by the Canadian government in the late 1940s any less democratic because of the narrow base of public input on which it was formulated? And, similarly, was the foreign policy embraced by the Chretien government in 1994 any more democratic for the fact that many more hundreds of Canadians were consulted by the government and given an opportunity to testify before the parliamentary committees? True, if we use what has come to be the orthodox definition that equates maximal citizen involvement (an open process) with democratization, and lack of citizen involvement (a closed process) with elitism and lack of democracy, then we must conclude that St. Laurent's foreign policy was undemocratic and Chretien's foreign policy was democratic. But if we use a different understanding of what constitutes democratization, then it is not at all clear that one policy was any more democratic than the other. However, we do see one clear difference between the policy process of the late 1940s and that of the mid-1990s: an increase in the role of the public in policy formulation. While there may be a rise of populism and anti-establishment tendencies in Canadian foreign policy in the mid-1990s--as Porteous has argued—accompanied by growing concern about the vulnerabilities created by economic restructuring in the G-7 countries, and particularly the problem of widespread unemployment," there can be little doubt that, over the half century since the end of the Second World War, we have seen a secular, and quite dramatic, widening of the circle of public involvement in the making of foreign policy in Canada. To be sure, one would barely know this from the rhetoric of the democratization debate of 1993-94, which trumpeted the newness of public consultation, and complained bitterly of the putatively undemocratic nature of the Progressive Conservative approach to foreign policy. However, it is easy to be beguiled by a partisan perspective that draws for its rhetorical appeal on the deep unpopularity of the Progressive Conservative government of Brian Mulroney and his

NOSSAL 37

successor, Kim Campbell.' For example, to argue that the public consultations conducted by the Special Joint Committee of 1994 represented a new commitment to an open foreign policy is to conveniently forget that the Mulroney government undertook a similar exercise in the mid-1980s. In that process, a similar range of groups was invited to present views to the parliamentarians; a comparable number of briefs was received; a comparable number of pages of testimony was generated; and a similar interest in public participation was evinced. Moreover, the impetus for increased public involvement in foreign policy making has much deeper historical roots than this. As Denis Stairs has noted, Canadian foreign policy underwent a considerable "domestication" with the growth of so-called "low policy" agenda items in the 1970s. Denis Stairs pointed out that one of the consequences of this was that the government of the day—the Liberal government of Pierre Trudeau—increasingly sought to involve domestic groups in the making of policy, even if its 1968-70 review of Canadian foreign and defence policies was not accompanied by extensive public consultations.' And, as Stairs noted in an earlier article,'-0 evidence of increasing public involvement can be found as far back as the middle and late 1960s. In short, it can be argued that what is needed is a little less historical reinvention of the wheel every time there is a foreign policy review, and a little more clarification of what constitutes a democratic policy process. First, most of the critiques of the foreign policy process almost take for granted that the more people are involved in some way in the policy making process, somehow the more democratic that policy is going to be. It can be argued, however, that this is a highly questionable assumption. For it is not at all clear that a democratized foreign policy will be achieved simply by increasing the participation of the citizenry in the policy making process. If that were the case, then policy making in a democratic system should aim to involve as many citizens in the process as possible. But the problem is to know when one has reached the threshold of consultation that is fully democratic. What percentage of Canada's 27 million people need to be involved in the foreign policy making process for that process to turn from being undemocratic into being democratic? Such a question may

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sound flippant or mischievous, but it is not. On the contrary: the attempt to address it seriously points up a deficiency in assumptions that seek to link consultation and democracy. The final report of the Special Joint Committee, for example, acknowledged that there were serious limits to the amount of consultation its members could undertake, because of given constraints on their time. But what if they had been given 14 months to complete their review, rather than seven, and had been able to visit twice as many cities, hear twice as many witnesses, consider twice as many briefs, have twice as many meetings? Would the resultant process have been twice as democratic? Second, it is assumed that opening up the policy process in the way that Griffiths suggests—providing opportunities for interested groups to participate in the process—produces greater democratization. Indeed, it has become common practice for the state, in formulating policy in a variety of areas—not just foreign affairs—to involve and consult all of the various groups affected by a policy area. The stakeholders, as they have come to be known, are provided with an opportunity to participate in the making of policy. Unquestionably, stakeholder politics is an excellent tool of political management for state officials. It ensures that those primarily affected by a policy area will have an opportunity to have their say, to comment on proposed policy changes, to register their objections or to offer their ideas. It thus not only protects state officials against future claims by stakeholders; it also binds the stakeholders more tightly to the policies eventually adopted. And the policy that results from such a process of stakeholder consultation may well be much better than one that is formulated by state officials alone in the isolation chamber of a government agency. However, that having been said, can we conclude that such a process is democratic? A careful look at how stakeholder politics operates in practice reveals that, far from involving the demos, the many, in the policy process, stakeholder politics is concerned to purposely limit involvement in the process to those groups which, as the name implies, have a stake in policy outcomes.Almost by definition, involvement tends to be limited to those groups that Griffiths termed intermediate groups. But we tend to overlook an obvious conclusion: this is little more than

N 0 SSAL

policy making by elite invitation, where groups are actively sought out by state officials for participation in policy making. For example, in preparation for the 1994 foreign policy review, Andre Ouellet, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, sent letters to hundreds of NGOs, corporations, and universities, inviting them to express their views. Likewise, the National Forum of March 1994 was widely billed as an example of how to democratize foreign policy. There can be little doubt that it provided an excellent opportunity for foreign policy experts to participate in a broad-ranging discussion of Canada's role in the post-Cold War era. I, for one, would be unapologetic about the usefulness of such meetings, and others like it, for the development of foreign policy. But let us not delude ourselves—or insult the taxpayers who picked up the tab for flying the participants to Ottawa, putting them up in local hotels, and feeding them fine wine and food; this was not an affair of, or for, the demos. On the contrary; this was an elite gathering, strictly for Canada's conferencing classes. As the dissenting opinion of the Reform Party noted acidly, though ordinary folks might have footed the bill, there were no everyday Canadians to be found amongst the Forum's participants.'-' For these reasons, it can be argued that stakeholder politics, far from being democratic, instead entrenches and institutionalizes access to the policy making process that is limited to the few; the many have little place in such a process. Third, it is assumed that, since intermediate groups themselves tend to press the ideal of democratization, their participation in the process thereby serves to affirm the ideal of democratic policy making. Consider, for example, the perspective of the Canadian Council for International Cooperation (CLIC), a coalition of 125 Canadian NGOs. In a series of papers published in the summer of 1994, it recommended a series of steps for the democratization of Canadian foreign policy. In the CCIC's view: The government should commit itself to the effective participation of the Canadian public in the ongoing development and review of all areas of Canadian foreign policy. The processes for consultations and making decisions must be inclusive, participatory, transparent and accountable."

39

40 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

Likewise, in a compilation of its recommendations, Putting People First, the CCIC developed this theme further, arguing that what is needed is "much more than public hearings and consultations:' Rather than focusing on public opinion, which is often "short-sighted, ill-informed, and easily manipulated:' the CLIC recommended that new and innovative methods of encouraging better public judgement should be introduced. For example, the Council suggested the addition of "some non-Parliamentarians of diverse backgrounds who are recognized for their foreign policy expertise" to the parliamentary committee reviewing foreign policy Likewise, it suggested the establishment of "multi-stakeholder working groups" which would "seek consensus on key issues," and then act as a "reference group" for parliamentary committees on foreign affairs; this would "deepen the level of discussion and provide more open access to the process?' A further suggestion would have the government seek to involve foreign non-governmental organizations in the policy process, by creating an "international advisory group with eminent people, including representatives of grassroots organizations..." Moreover, in the Council's view, the mass media "must be involved in explaining international policy alternatives to the public and creating forums for Canadians to dialogue with 'experts' on future [policy] directions."23 At first sight, these sound like fine and eminently unobjectionable goals. But closer examination shows that what the CCIC is actually seeking, despite rhetoric that sounds democratic, is little more than an enhanced role for intermediate groups and their leaders in the policy process, rather than for the mass public, which is, after all, "short-sighted, ill-informed, and easily manipulated:' The public must be "educated;' with explanations about foreign policy offered by the media and "experts:""Eminent people," those "recognized for their foreign policy expertise," and leaders of organizations are the ones to be involved in the state-society institutions for the encouragement of a democratized policy process. All in all, the CCIC vision of a democratized foreign policy appears unabashedly elitist when the essence of the proposals is examined. To be sure, this elitism may not be what the CCIC intended; but it is undoubtedly what results from the entrenchment of the position of stakeholders in the process.

NOSSAL

In conclusion: we are not much further along in our attempt to determine what is a democratized foreign policy. We have seen a marked growth in public involvement and public consultation, but, as the debate of 1993-94 over democratization reveals, there is still a widespread view that the process is not democratic enough. In this chapter, I have argued that the clarion calls for the democratization of Canadian foreign policy that we have heard both before and after the election of October 1993 tend to be ahistorical, forgetting the record of the past, whether purposely or not. I have also argued that these calls tend to be based on flawed assumptions about the relationship between consultation and democracy. And I have suggested that most of the calls for democratizing the foreign policy process in Canada are fundamentally elitist rather than democratic in nature. That having been said, however, with what are we left? Are we left with the classical perspective that holds that a democratic foreign policy is one that reflects the preferences and interests, both expressed and implicit, of the governed, as measured by the confidence (or lack of it) displayed towards the governors in periodic elections? Or the related argument, to the effect that the most effective way to a democratized foreign policy is through greater discussion and deliberation of the issues in the most appropriate forum, the national legislature?24 These were at one time compelling statements of the nature of democratic policy making. But it is clear that they no longer persuade. Such views are now commonly regarded as just too simplistic, and insufficiently sensitive to the distortions in preferences that the institutions of representative democracy tend to produce. Moreover, any government that reverted to such a classical view would face outrage from the numerous stakeholders who have come to equate consultation by the state (however erroneously) with democracy. There is, in other words, no consensus on what constitutes democratization of the policy process. However, without that consensus, the democratization of Canada's foreign policy will continue to be an elusive ideal.

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NOTES

1 For a discussion of consent in democratic societies, see Thomas J. Lewis, "On Using the Concept of Hypothetical Consent," Canadian Journal of Political Science 22 (December 1989), 793-807. 2 Liberal Party of Canada,"Foreign Policy Platform," mimeo., May 1993; also Lloyd Axworthy, "Canadian Foreign Policy: A Liberal Party Perspective," Canadian Foreign Policy 1 (Winter 1992), 14. 3 Liberal Party of Canada, Creating Opportunity: The Liberal Plan for Canada, (Ottawa, 1993). 4 Liberal Party of Canada, Creating Opportunity, 109. 5 See, for example, the comments of Jesse Flis, the Parliamentary Secretary to André Ouellet, Minister of Foreign Affairs: Canada, Parliament, House of Commons, Debates, January 25, 1994, (unrev.) 134, 282. 6 On the Tiananmen debate, see Kim Richard Nossal, Rain Darning: Sanctions in Canadian and Australian Foreign Policy, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), chap. 8; on the Gulf debate in Canada, see Kim Richard Nossal,"Quantum Leaping:The Gulf Debate in Australia and Canada," in Michael McKinley, ed., The Gulf War: Critical Perspectives, (Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1994), 48-71. 7 Financial Post, March 24, 1994. 8 Canada, Parliament, Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices (November 1994), Appendix A, "Guidance paper," 33. 9 Lloyd Axworthy, "Canadian Foreign Policy: A Liberal Party Perspective," Canadian Foreign Policy 1 (Winter 1992), 14. 10 Betty Plewes, "Preparing for the 21st Century: Why Canada Needs a Foreign Policy Review," Canadian Foreign Policy 1 (Spring 1993), 107. 11 See also Deborah Stienstra, "Can the Silence be Broken? Gender and Canadian Foreign Policy," International Journal 50 (Winter 1994-5). 12 James Minifie, Peacemaker or Powdermonkey: Canada's Role in a Revolutionary World (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1960), 36. 13 Franklyn Griffiths, "Opening Up the Policy Process," in Stephen Clarkson, ed., An Independent Foreign Policy for Canada? (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1968), 110-18.

NOSSAL 14 John W Holmes, "The Public and Foreign Policy" The Better Part of Valour: Essays on Canadian Diplomacy (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970), 44-57. 15 Canada, Department of External Affairs, Statements and Speeches, 47/2, "The Foundation of Canadian Policy in World Affairs," January 13, 1947; reprinted in J.L. Granatstein, ed., Canadian Foreign Policy: Historical Readings (Toronto: Copp Clark Pitman, 1986), 25-33. 16 Special Joint Committee, Canada's Foreign Policy, 85-86. 17 Samuel D. Porteous, "Populism, Unemployment, and Foreign Policy," Canadian Foreign Policy 2 (Spring 1994), 137-45. 18 A good example of this tendency to use an unpopular action of the Mulroney government to lend legitimacy to portrayals of it as undemocratic is the case of the closure of the Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security (CLIPS). Many have argued, among them Draimin and Plewes in this volume, that the closure of CI1PS by the Mulroney government was additional evidence of its lack of commitment to a democratized foreign policy. But while CIIPS performed a number of useful policy functions, and while there are a number of good reasons to mourn its passing, it would be stretching the facts to suggest that the Institute was a force for the democratization of Canadian foreign policy. 19 Denis Stairs, "Public Opinion and External Affairs: Reflections on the Domestication of Canadian Foreign Policy" International Journal 33 (Winter 1977-78), 128-49. 20 Denis Stairs, "Publics and Policy-Makers: the Domestic Environment of the Foreign Policy Community," International Journal 26 (Winter 1970-1), 221-48. 21 Special Joint Committee, Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices, "Dissenting Opinion of the Reform Party..", 32. 22 Canadian Council for International Cooperation, Building and Sustaining Global Justice: Towards a New Canadian Foreign Policy (Ottawa, May 1994), Recommendation 25A, 53. 23 Canadian Council for International Cooperation, Putting People First: Towards a Canadian Foreign Policy for the 21st Century (Ottawa, n.d. [1994]), 6-9. 24 For an elaboration of this argument, see Kim Richard Nossal, "The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy?" Canadian Foreign Policy 1 (Fall 1993), 95-104.

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III Morality, Democracy and Foreign Policy

ROBERT H. JACKSON

I

n this essay I address the idea of democracy as a foreign policy goal and some ethical and legal issues that such a policy could raise. Brief attention is also given to Canadian foreign policy My argument can be summarized as follows: crusading for democracy would be not only wrong but unwise as a foreign policy, but seeking democratic converts by non-coercive diplomacy may have its merits providing other important values are not sacrificed along the way. At the core of my argument is the claim that the conduct of prudent foreign policy within the current normative framework of international society must come before any desire to expand democracy in world politics.

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A DEMOCRATIC "ZONE OF PEACE"

The conviction that the conduct of international relations between republican or, in our terms, democratic states can dispense with war dates back at least as far as Immanuel Kant's essay Perpetual Peace (1795).` Recently it has been revived by Michael Doyle.' The thesis understandably appeals to anyone who values democracy and peace. But that positive response should probably be a warning not to embrace the doctrine without at least preliminary scepticism. There are other important values in international relations, indeed there is a constellation of them: independence, security, self-determination, equality, reciprocity, to name a few. And those values can be expected at certain times or places to conflict with the value of democracy. Even a value which is often equated with democracy—self-determination—may be in conflict with democracy if people are determined to live under some other form of government—Islamic, for example. The rational foreign policy of any state, including Canada, should be founded upon full awareness of value pluralism in world politics. Democracy must take its place within that pluralism and not outside it. The thesis about a democratic "zone of peace" implies that democracy and security are not fundamentally in conflict; indeed, it implies that the expansion of democracy is the surest path to world peace. If we glance at international relations in the 20th Century we see ample evidence to support the claim that Western democracies observe non-coercive and non-violent standards of conduct in their relations with one another. These countries have not been belligerents or even military adversaries; instead, they have usually been not only at peace but also in alliance with one another. Ruptures of democratic alliances are moments of deep concern; for example, the threatened breach between Britain/France and the United States, provoked by the 1956 Suez crisis, which occurred during one of the coldest periods of the Cold War. That is not to claim that modern democracies do not engage in war, for they have done that recurrently since they came into existence in the late 18th Century. Indeed, the first modern democracies—the United States and France—were born out of revolutionary and international war. And democracies, when aroused against an

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enemy, are among the most formidable warrior states. This is surely one of the main lessons of the 20th Century concerning war, and it does not overlook the fact that democracies were usually driven into military alliance by the presence of hostile, threatening, or aggressive non-democratic states. That was evident in the Anglo-American alliance against the fascist powers during the Second World War and also in the Western alliance against the Soviet Union during the Cold War. So, presumably, as long as there are both democracies and nondemocracies we should not expect any abandonment of the military option on the part of democracies as a method of deterring adversaries or resolving international disputes which cannot be settled by peaceful means. We arrive, then, at a modified thesis concerning the peaceful inclinations of liberal democracies. At the present time, despite the spread of democracy in Eastern Europe and Latin America, there are still numerous authoritarian states around the world. As long as such states exist and are occasionally belligerent towards their neighbours, we should expect the indignation and even the ire of democratic states to be sometimes aroused, and we should not be surprised if democracies occasionally resort to war against authoritarian states if they determine that important interests or values are at stake.The latest demonstration of that proposition was the 1990-91 war in the Persian Gulf. But can we go further? In order to reduce the prospect of war in the future, would it be justified for democracies to pursue the abolition of authoritarianism and the institution of democracy around the world? Would it be justified even if it were conducive to peace in the long run? Or does such one-dimensional morality ignore other values? Would such a conceivable project be any different from earlier imperialist campaigns in which Western countries pursued the abolition of non-Western governments which did not conform to what was once referred to as the "standard of civilization"?3 Putting the question that way might make it clearer that such a campaign has precedents of which some at least—Western imperialism and colonialism—raise deeply troubling ethical questions. Democracy may conflict with rival conceptions of self-determination and self-government—such as one sees in East Asia and the Middle East today. On what grounds can democracy claim superiority over other forms of government?

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MAKING CONVERTS TO DEMOCRACY

Woodrow Wilson wanted to make the world safe for democracy—by force of arms, if necessary.' That was not the first time that international political correctness surfaced in world politics; crusading has a long history. Is crusading for democracy inherently more justified than crusading for Christianity or Islam or capitalism or communism? Setting aside the practical obstacles that stand in the way of a foreign policy aimed at spreading democracy around the world, would such a campaign be justified in the international community as it is presently structured and sanctioned? One of the main normative aims of the post-Westphalian states system has been to discourage, if not abolish, religious or ideological motives as a justification for war or intervention. This liberal principle has been violated recurrently over the centuries: in the era of colonialism it was completely abandoned, and it was severely tested during the Cold War.Yet it is still championed as the basic norm of international society and instituted as a fundamental legal obligation in the United Nations Charter (Article 2). It is one of the very few international standards of conduct that all states—South, North,West, East—recognize and avow even if in practice they do not always live up to it. Like any norm of human relations, that of non-intervention can be violated. But even when this happens the burden of moral justification rests squarely upon the intervening state.Violation is not the same as repudiation; so far the principle of non-intervention has not been repudiated. On the contrary, since the end of colonialism it has been generally regarded as perhaps, the most fundamental of all existing international norms: the intimate companion of equal sovereignty in a post-colonial world of legally independent states. What would justify a democratic crusade that would not justify Christian or Islamic or capitalist or communist crusades? The answer depends on how the enterprise is carried out. If it were pursued by methods which violated the basic norms of international society it would not be justified. But if it did not violate international law and the entailed morality of the states system, which is basically a morality of formally equal states, it could find justification. If democracy were pursued by means of intervention, war, conquest, or colonization—the

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methods by which European imperialism was pursued historically—it would obviously go against both the spirit and the letter of international society as presently constituted: an association of states that are formally equal despite their substantive inequality But if democracy were pursued by means of non-coercive diplomacy it would not contradict international law and the morality of state sovereignty. John Stuart Mill and Michael Walzer argue that it is wrong for outsiders to intervene to build democracy (Mill called it "civilized government") in other countries without further justification, such as a threat to peace or some other basic international value.' Without such further justification, external intervention would amount to the forceful exercise of paternalism, which would be morally objectionable between equally sovereign nation-states. Once countries are full members of international society—that is, they enjoy constitutional independence from all other states—and once they are recognized as such, they have a fundamental right to be treated in the same way as all other sovereign states.6 The legal basis of this right is Article 2 of the UN Charter. There is nothing in contemporary international law which gives democracies—even superpower democracies—special rights to ignore the non-interventionist provisions of the Charter. At the present time, making the world safe for democracy by force of arms is contrary to international law and the underlying morality of state sovereignty. Mill and Walzer also think that the exercise of coercive international paternalism to give people in other countries democratic institutions is futile: they claim it is basically up to the people in those countries to bring about democracy themselves. If Haiti is going to be a democracy it will be up to the Haitians and not the UN Security Council or the United States or any other outside party that may be in a position to try to impose it upon them. What Americans and everybody else must do is to refrain from obstructing the attempt of the Haitians to achieve that domestic political goal: in short, respect the norm of non-intervention.The key political responsibility in that regard obviously belongs to Washington.The Haitians would be wise to democratize their political life, if they are up to it, because that would very likely give them strong claims for material assistance from

50 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

existing democracies in the Western hemisphere, particularly their wealthy pro-democracy neighbour, the United States. But that course of action, to repeat, is basically the responsibility of the Haitians and nobody else. Mill and Walzer are arguing from the perspective of a distinctive liberal pluralist moral theory as it applies to international relations: or in the words of Mill, the principle that we ought to "let other nations alone.' International liberalism is sharply at odds with moral crusading in world politics, and that term must include crusades for democracy. Walzer refers to this perspective as the "legalist paradigm" because it is fundamentally consistent with, indeed it is identical to, international law and the underlying morality of state sovereignty.' I think liberal pluralism is the only sound moral and legal basis upon which to build an ethical foreign policy in world politics as organized at the present time, if we 'hope to avoid the disorder that would be inevitable if one part of the world, the democratic, set out to impose its values on the remainder. Liberal pluralism is tolerant of difference and intolerant of imposition. There is convincing historical evidence to support the scepticism of Mill and Walzer concerning the futility of trying to impose democracy on others. One major source of information is the colonial experience of Britain and France with attempts to endow the indigenous people in their Asian and African colonies with democratic institutions.With very few exceptions that effort was a total failure: once the colonial powers withdrew, the struggle for power in the new states got underway in earnest. Instead of democracy, what usually emerged was a contrary world of personal rule, either based on authoritarian parties or on the military. In Africa—seemingly imitating the earlier experience in Latin America—the coup became the normal and usually the only way of changing governments. In short, there was an expansion of authoritarianism around the world, an expansion because colonial rule, at least by the British and the French, had allowed some latitude for constitutionalism and the rule of law, however limited and paternalistic. This enlargement of the authoritarian world was, of course, underwritten by the Cold War, which made it very unwise, strategically speaking, for Western powers to insist on democratic government

JACKSON

before entering into political, economic, and military relations with ex-colonial states. The question arises as to whether the end of the Cold War changes this situation. Surely it changes some things. In the absence of the Soviet Union there is no longer the same worry that those authoritarian states will leave the Western orbit and fall under the influence, if not the control, of the Soviet Bloc. Are Western democracies now in a strong position to influence the domestic political life of authoritarian countries with a view to promoting democracy within them? This is a complicated empirical question and therefore difficult to answer briefly. (It is not the same as asking whether they should try to do that, and whether they would have any right to do it, a question which is discussed below). One simplification is to draw a distinction between large and important authoritarian states and small and unimportant ones. There are not many of the former, because most of the significant states in the contemporary world are democracies; there are, however, many of the latter. Presumably Western democracies will be very circumspect in their pro-democratic campaigning when it comes to major authoritarian powers. Consider China as a case in point. Such a country is too strong militarily and too important economically to be moved by Western demands for democratization. The Chinese government's unrelenting anti-democracy crackdown since the 1989 demonstrations in Beijing, which continues despite criticism from the United States and other democracies, demonstrates that fact. Recent diplomatic activities also suggest that few if any Western nations want to be shut out of what promises to be the biggest economic boom in world history. They are prepared to temper their criticism of China's authoritarianism if such an attitude is necessary to gain market access for themselves; that is Beijing's trump card. Democracy, and with it human rights, must therefore take a back seat to commercial interests if Western nations want to participate in this world-historical boom. We probably should not expect any changes in the domestic politics of China except those which are initiated and controlled by the Chinese government operating with their own interests and values in mind. Democracy is not one of these. And if we think their plans might change within the foreseeable future we should not forget that

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the Chinese government's authoritarianism is conditioned by an ancient tradition of imperialist and paternalist rule which is deeply embedded in Chinese history and Confucian civilization. China is only the most obvious and the most important case of a weighty authoritarian state which should not be expected to accommodate the demand for democratization merely because leading Western powers desire to see it happen. That demand could easily be construed by such states as an affront to their dignity and an unwarranted interference with their right to be treated with respect as long as they reciprocate by not interfering in the internal affairs of Western democracies or any other states. I think we are on safer ground if we assume that prudence and national interests, rather than moral crusading, will, for the foreseeable future, be the pattern of international relations between Western democracies and major authoritarian states. This puts the value of democracy in the proper perspective: it may be highly desirable to see the democratic zone expanded, but such an aim must be subject to other important considerations and cannot be pursued to their exclusion. On the other hand, there are many small and weak authoritarian states which depend heavily on political and economic relations with Western democracies, and the international institutions dominated by those democracies, for their status, security and welfare. The end of the Cold War implies a loss of influence, position and prestige for the Third World generally and for authoritarian states in particular, which must now confront a new situation in which they can no longer play the West off against the East in an ironic, inverted system of divide and rule.They have lost the privileged bargaining position in international relations that the Cold War gave them and today they are more exposed to the West than ever.The biggest worry of African governments is that they will be ignored and forgotten as Western aid is redirected to Eastern Europe and Russia. Thus, the end of the Cold War has increased the international freedom of Western democracies to place new conditions of their own choosing on non-Western authoritarian states which are in no position to bargain. The end of Cold War alignments in the Third World might be an auspicious moment for democratic proselytizing by Western states and the international organizations they control.We already see some

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evidence of this in the policy of making international financing (by the World Bank, the IMF and many Western governments) conditional on certain domestic reforms, not only economic but also in some cases political, including the protection of human rights, the rule of law, and democratic elections. Although so-called structural adjustment predates 1989 and indeed goes back to the 1970s, increased conditionality has been a striking feature of North-South relations, particularly those involving Sub-Saharan Africa, since the end of the Cold War. Is conditionality a justifiable method of promoting democracy in weak and vulnerable authoritarian states? As long as recipient states decide to accept conditionality of their own free will there is nothing wrong with the practice. That of course assumes that financial assistance is a grant from rich countries to poor countries, or a commercial transaction, such as a loan, and thus confers no special right on the recipient or borrower and imposes no special obligation on the donor or lender. Profound material inequality between developed and developing countries does not by itself alter that legality and morality. Unequal material conditions are an historical fact of international relations which have always liberated rich and strong states and constrained poor and weak ones. If a poor recipient country decides to take the aid or loan and accept the conditions that go With it, then that is its choice. Thus conditionality is consistent by and large with current international law and the morality of state sovereignty. To argue that poor countries have little choice but to accept conditionality because of their abject poverty is undoubtedly true. Poverty has always limited the choices that humans can make and the lives they can lead; the same material constraint applies to states. Economic backwardness used to be grounds for denying membership in the international community and for justifying colonialism. That changed with decolonization, after which poverty came to constitute grounds for claiming foreign aid from rich countries. But it did not alter the ethical practice of the states system, which rests on a liberal ethic and not a socialist ethic: it did not place a legal obligation on rich states to redistribute wealth to poor states. If aid were a legal obligation and not merely a voluntary act on the part of the

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donor, imposing prior conditions on the recipient would be a form of intervention, and not merely influence, and would therefore be unjustified. That would be the case if, for example, the 1974 Charter of the Economic Rights and Duties of States were not merely a declared international goal that states commit themselves to strive towards but, in addition, laid down binding obligations for the purpose of achieving that goal. This is not the case, however; to date the "new international economic order" has not gone beyond aspiration and we are still living in a liberal world in which economic transactions are based on agreement. Making democratization a condition of international financial aid would not be democratic crusading, because it would not trespass on the basic norm of non-intervention.What it would be is democratic proselytizing and there is nothing wrong with that in current international law and ethics. A proselyte is a convert: somebody who has been persuaded to change his or her beliefs and has thus converted to a new belief system. Promoting democracy in that non-coercive way would not be intervention and it would not be paternalism. It would simply be an act of seeking converts by whatever legitimate, that is, non-coercive, means available. If democratic states take it upon themselves to win converts to their political ideology from among weak authoritarian states this would not be objectionable on currently existing legal or moral grounds. As a democrat, I would celebrate every state which successfully converted to democracy and every non-coercive foreign policy which helped bring it about, providing it did not involve major sacrifices of other important values. SECURITY AND NON-INTERVENTION

Should expansion of the zone of democracy be a foreign policy goal if it threatens other important values, such as security and non-intervention? Common sense would surely answer "no." As indicated, democracy is not an absolute value; it is only one important value among others. Security is usually, and I believe justifiably, regarded as the most fundamental of all international values, which must necessarily "trump" other such values when they cone into conflict. That is because without security nothing else is possible: constructive and

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productive human life is severely undermined during conditions of war, as we know only too well from the recent cases of Somalia and Bosnia-Herzegovina. Hobbes long ago made what has become the definitive statement of this point: In such condition, there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation...; no commodious building; ...no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; ...and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.' States continue to be an essential means of providing security in an anarchical world society' Security is, however, an ambiguous value: we need to distinguish between the simple and direct security of a state and the more complex and indirect security of its inhabitants. National security is ordinarily justified on the assumption that it underwrites internal order and welfare: the good life of people in a particular state. That is the assumption of Hobbes. But can such external security still be justified if it does not translate into the domestic security of a state's population, perhaps because the government is a dictatorship which preys upon the people (for example, Haiti) or because the internal order of the state has completely broken down (for example, Somalia)? Should the international community respect the independence of all states unconditionally, a principle upon which the UN Charter more or less insists? Or should the international community withdraw such recognition and introduce a right of international intervention in states where domestic anarchy prevails or the government severely abuses its powers? Should the presently moribund UN Trusteeship Council be reinvigorated and adapted to deal with such cases by putting them under international administration until such time as they are prepared and equipped to resume self-government? That would of course be reverting to the ethic of paternalism. According to current international practice, the provision of domestic security is up to the people of independent countries and not up to the international community. This anti-paternalism and self-determination doctrine has been in effect since the end of colonialism. It has

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prevailed notwithstanding the existence of states which are disorganized, unstable, and even chaotic, even to the great detriment of their populations. More than a few Third World states are in this condition; and added to their number recently are some newly independent states that were part of former Yugoslavia and the former Soviet Union. In short, the world tolerates the existence of chaotic countries and despotic governments, sometimes called quasi-states, many of which are states largely courtesy of anti-colonialism. Most people in these countries pay a heavy price for non-intervention, which usually protects only ruling elites and their clients." The perpetuation of that doctrine often conflicts with humanitarianism. Yet its termination would break what is likely the only universally acknowledged standard of international conduct: non-intervention. This would undoubtedly have far reaching consequences which are impossible to foresee. In short, it would put in jeopardy the post-1945 and post-colonial international consensus. The dilemma of choosing between important values has surfaced in several recent international episodes, including the interventions in Somalia (1993) and Haiti (1994). The international community intervened in Somalia to prevent mass starvation brought on by a drought and aggravated by a civil war that obstructed the distribution of food aid. Once on the ground in Somalia, however, the UN humanitarian soldiers found themselves provoked into taking sides in the civil war. There was no "government" to speak of empirically, Somalia was stateless. At one point the effective government of the country consisted of the UN representative, a leading American official, and a committee of non-governmental organizations. Such incipient authority could have developed into an international trusteeship. That it did not was mainly owing to two things: first, the illegitimacy of trusteeship, except in transition from colonialism to independence, in which the UN Trusteeship Council has a limited role; second, the unwillingness of the United States to accept casualties to their troops, which would inevitably accompany any attempt at pacifying the country against the wishes of local warlords. The United States intervened in Haiti, with UN sanction, to restore a democratically elected government and thereby put an end to a military-authoritarian regime which had repeatedly acted in

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contempt of its international commitments and the resolutions of the Security Council. It will be interesting to see whether the Americans can be any more successful at underwriting democratization in Haiti today than they were earlier, this century, when their first intervention in the same ill-fated country left no positive legacy. Perhaps the fact that the Caribbean and Latin America are more democratic than they previously were will increase Haiti's chances of success. The intervention in Somalia was justified, for the most part, on humanitarian grounds, but those grounds remain controversial in international law.u2 The Haitian intervention was justified on grounds of restoring a democratically elected government. I am not aware of any solid legal reasons for such an action and it is difficult not to regard it simply as an armed intervention desired by the United States and underwritten by the Security Council. One fundamental problem of both a prudential and a legal kind which these acts of armed humanitarianism raise is the following: at the present time there are numerous chaotic states and despotic governments in the world which hide, so to speak, behind the UN norm of non-intervention. I think it is obvious that the United States and its main allies could not intervene in all of them even if they wanted to, so practicality and prudence work against changing the rules of the game. It is also obvious that the humanitarian interventions which they have undertaken have to a large extent been driven by public opinion responding to colour television, a shaky foundation for any foreign policy, humanitarian or otherwise. THE ROLE OF CANADA

The provision of security obviously imposes a far heavier responsibility on great powers: in that regard the United States and Russia carry much larger burdens than Canada and Poland. The United States as the sole remaining superpower still bears major responsibilities for the security not only of North America but also of East Asia and of Europe, including Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and other countries of Eastern Europe. Russia remains responsible for its own security and probably also for the security of some of the new states of the former Soviet Union, the so-called "near abroad," which have

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nowhere else to turn. Poland and Canada cannot truly provide for their own security, let alone the security of another country. Poland has the severe geographical disadvantage of living between two great powers whose imperialism is indelibly printed on the history of Europe: Germany and Russia. Unfortunate geography largely explains the tragedy of Poland as a state and its current government's understandably anxious desire to obtain security guarantees from NATO. Canada, fortunately, is in the opposite situation: it has no security anxieties and has long since given up even the pretence of providing national security on its own. One consequence is the tendency for Canadians to think of national security, if they think of it at all, as somebody else's responsibility, namely NORAD's or NATO's or, perhaps, even the UN Security Council's. The differences between Canadians and Americans in that regard are profound. Canada's insurance policy, underwritten, as it is, by the United States, obviously rests on the reassuring historical fact that Canada shares with its great neighbour many basic values and belongs to the same Western tradition of libei-al democracy. In that regard, Poles would have good reason to be envious of Canadians. However, Canada still has the problem of living beside a superpower which periodically understands its historical role as that of a country which is destined to be the vanguard of democracy in the modern world. The special awkwardness for the making of Canadian foreign policy is Canada's sharing and avowing the same democratic values while balking at the Hegelianism of America's historic self-conception." What should be Canada's role in these circumstances? The answer is not particularly obscure and can be derived from a brief recollection of the historical outlines of Canadian foreign policy during the past half century. Canada's international role, in greatly simplified terms, has two basic dimensions. First, the country has actively participated in every international forum—diplomatic, military, economic—where liberal democracies have promoted and defended their values. That includes all the major international organizations created and dominated by those same democracies, a list which would comprise the Group of Seven economic summit, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, and other bodies too numerous to

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mention. Secondly, and here Canada's differences with the United States emerge, Canada has been equally active in the United Nations in support of its basic institutions and doctrines, including most notably the doctrine of anti-paternalism and non-intervention. Canada has taken a well-known lead in many UN spheres, especially peacekeeping. In addition, it has been deeply involved in post-colonial organizations, such as the Commonwealth and La Francophonie, in both of which the majority consists of Third World authoritarian states. Canada's self-defined role, since Lester Pearson framed it, has consistently been that of a good citizen of international society. The United States, by contrast, began to move away from the UN in the late 1950s or early 1960s, certainly in its strategic thinking and military policy Military strategy to some extent eclipsed international law, in response, no doubt, to the compelling political and military necessities of the Cold War. Only since the end of the Cold War, and specifically since the August 1990 outbreak of the Gulf War, has Washington returned politically and emotionally to the United Nations arena of international discourse and decision. One of the interesting features of international relations at the present time is the new commitment of Russia to operate with strict regard for the rules of the UN Charter and the Resolutions of the Security Council. Beginning with President Gorbachev's 1988 speech to the General Assembly, Moscow has pursued this course, and in doing so has encouraged the Americans to return to the UN system as a major feature of their foreign and military policy. That change has of course produced noteworthy awkwardness and perhaps even some discomfort as United States foreign policy tries to adapt to the constitutional imperfections, political ambiguities, and diplomatic half-measures and frustrations of the Security Council, a collegium where it is difficult to be number one. At the present time there is no alternative system of international norms which can command the same universal acknowledgement as the anti-paternalist and non-interventionist rules of the UN Charter. The defeat of Iraqi aggression in the Gulf War was made possible not only by a widely shared international interest in preventing a Middle Eastern dictator from controlling the oil supplies, but also by a universal regard for the UN Charter which Saddam

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Hussein clearly and contemptuously violated in his invasion and occupation of Kuwait. The coalition of Western and non-Western states which supported the political, rather than military, defeat of Iraq, would have been impossible to build outside the framework of the UN Charter. There would have been no coalition if democracy had been a prerequisite for participation. Liberal democracy, despite its recent preliminary, but far from conclusive, successes in Eastern Europe and Russia, is unable to command the degree of support currently enjoyed by the rule of non-intervention. And besides the non-coercive encouragement of democracy, no other alternative to intervention is even conceivable. Canada's traditional role has been to uphold the universal framework of international society against its detractors, and to remind those who are apt to forget—including the United States from time to time—that it remains the only conceivable normative foundation of world politics. Of course it is maintained at the expense of those who live in chaotic or police states: they pay a heavy price for the universal doctrine of non-intervention. But they are not prevented by international society from taking their politics into their own hands and trying to build a better political life for themselves and their children. And it would be paternalistic for anyone else to pay that price and futile for anyone else to undertake their political development for them. To sum up, the current international society is basically a liberal pluralist order, and any campaign to spread democracy should be fitted into that order, because there are other important values at stake. Seeking democratic converts by non-coercive means would be justified in terms of current international legality and morality, but democratic crusading, by armed force if necessary, surely would not be justified. The traditional internationalist role of Canada has rightly been to support and defend the post-1945 and post-colonial international order. That order is not sacrosanct, and obviously it is far from perfect; improvement is possible, and hopefully will come sooner rather than later. But reform can only proceed with the consent of all important sectors of the international community; it cannot proceed from only one quarter. The global covenant, however inadequate it may be, is still the one institutional framework that can transcend

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the manifold differences between the countries of the world and serve as a legal and moral basis for their co-existence and cooperation. This consideration cannot easily be dismissed.

NOTES

I am grateful to Max Cameron for helpful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. I also wish to acknowledge the financial support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. 1 Immanuel Kant, "Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch," in Hans Reiss, ed., Kant's Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 93-130. 2 Michael Doyle, "Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign Affairs I and II," Philosophy and PublicAffairs 12 (Summer and Fall 1983), 205-35; 323-53. 3 Gerrit W. Gong, The Standard of "Civilization" in International Society, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). 4 Wilson's opponents in the United States, by contrast, wanted no foreign entanglements. 5 John Stuart Mill, "A Few Words on Non-Intervention," in Gertrude Himmelfarb, ed., Essays on Politics and Culture by John Stuart Mill (New York:Anchor Books, 1963), 368-84 and Michael Walzer,Just and Unjust Wars, 2nd. ed., (New York: Basic Books, 1992), ch. 6. 6 On this conception of state sovereignty, which is the current practice of international relations, see Alan James, Sovereign Statehood: The Basis of International Society, (London: Allen & Unwin, 1986). 7 Mill, "A Few Words on Non-Intervention," 368. 8 Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars, 58-62. 9 Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, Michael Oakeshott, ed., (Oxford: Blackwell, 1946), 82. 10 Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society (London: Macmillan, 1977). 11 I address this phenomenon in Robert A. Jackson, Quasi-States: Sovereignty, International Relations and the Third World, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 12 M. Akehurst, "Humanitarian Intervention," in Hedley Bull, ed., Intervention, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). 13 Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man, (New York: Avon Books, 1992).

IV Civil Society and the Democratization of Foreign Policy

TIM DRAIMIN

& BETTY PLEWES

Canadian foreign policy, as it struggles to understand and engage globalization, is undergoing dramatic changes. Although the change is slow, the policy process is indeed becoming mote complex, more transparent, more innovative, and more democratic. What constitutes a more democratic policy? Why would democratization be important? What are the ways in which the democratic evolution of international public policy is expressing itself? Has the 1994 Foreign Policy Review advanced this process? What agenda has to be followed to democratize foreign policy still further? This chapter addresses each of these questions in turn. It looks primarily at the experience and perspective of Canada's international cooperation non-governmental organizations (NGos), a subset of Canadian civil society which includes both development and

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environment NGOs.' It concludes that the growing pressures for a more democratic policy (and the growth of civil society associations worldwide) is a logical response to the apparently dis-empowering phenomenon of globalization, which is undermining traditional institutions and the power of nation states. We are only in a nascent stage of democratization of policy. Our ability to move ahead will depend on our willingness to experiment with new models of policy development and to challenge attitudes which constrain the process. Canada boasts numerous examples of democratizing initiatives, some successful, some not. Lessons learned from these initiatives will shape the quality of democratic governance in the next century. WHAT IS A MORE DEMOCRATIC POLICY?

Democracy is both a set of political institutions and a process. Globally, people are setting more demanding standards for judging what is "democratic:' In some instances they are calling for the improvement or transformation of political institutions, in others they demand a change in the democratic processes, in most cases they want both of these things. In Canada, the development of a more democratic international policy has focused on changing the policy process to make it more transparent (through the development of policy options, decision-making, implementation, and monitoring and evaluation) and more accessible (by such means as publishing documents, holding hearings, roundtables and townhalls); the effect is to expand opportunities for people's participation.' Democratizing policy involves more than meetings and consultations (usually with a limited set of informed constituencies). The process must have as a goal the expansion of the public's understanding of increasingly complex issues by engaging its attention in ways which develop its capacity to analyze and understand the trade-offs involved in policy choices. It must provide the public with the opportunity to move from a vague opinion to "public judgment." The latter term has been coined by Daniel Yankelovich, an American political scientist and pollster, who describes the public moving through distinct stages of thinking on policy issues in order to make an informed judgment.' Yankelovich expands

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traditional thinking on democracy: A deliberative democracy is democracy that revives the notion of thoughtful and active citizenship. Now citizenship is treated as a passive form of consumer behaviour. People fail at citizenship not because they are apathetic but because they do not think their actions or their views make any real difference. We need to expand the notion of citizen choice now confined to elections to include making choices on the vital issues that confront us each day. "The interaction between government and the citizenry," notes the Canadian Council for International Cooperation (CCM), "will take different forms at different stages in the policy making process. There must be opportunity for increased dialogue, research and analysis in the early stages, and an opportunity for deliberation by the public on the choices to be made once policy options have been identified."' This implies changes for both government and its practices, and the restructuring of civil society.' It involves strengthening the role of Parliament, designing innovative activities in response to the requirements of different stages of the public policy process, and expanding the capacity of civil society organizations to play an effective policy role. The democratization of foreign policy requires a change in the roles of "experts" and the "general public" in the policy process. Observers like Yankelovich note that in North America "creeping expertism" has inadvertently undermined the public's contribution to self-governance. Democratic policy processes must, therefore, strengthen the public's capacity for self-government without foregoing the real advantage of bringing expert knowledge to bear on democratically directed solutions. Non-governmental organizations of civil society are playing an emerging function as mediating institutions in these processes. In this report, NGOs facilitate the public's participation in the policy process by representing concerns of their constituencies to government, engaging their networks in discussion and debate of policy issues and options, and helping to shape the development, implementation and evaluation of public policy. The long-term desirability of this mediating role will depend on the evolution of the policy process

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and the effectiveness and accountability of the NGOs. Can NGOs facilitate democratization or do they merely stifle it by occupying too much space as a "conferencing class" conforming to an expanded version of "elite accommodation?" Do NGOs provide enhanced means for a growing proportion of the public to become constructively engaged in the political and policy processes? Significantly, NGOs are becoming much more self-critical about their role, their representativeness, and their accountability. For most of them, the policy role is a relatively new responsibility, presenting new challenges in the management of relationships between donors and active members. NGO boards are under pressure to be more active. Membership and donors require new and more sophisticated means of communication and participation.Any failure of an NGO to be accountable to its constituents undermines its legitimacy before the public and government. International cooperation NGOs face additional accountability issues: how do they achieve balance in their accountability to their Canadian and their overseas partners respectively? How do they develop a policy agenda which links the interests of Canadians with those of the Third World? Some NGO observers have even warned of a "democratic gap" in the international NGO movement.6 The real test of NGOs' policy usefulness will be the quality of their policy contributions: how do they move from being critics of policy to playing the role of informed and thoughtful sources of viable policy alternatives? In an age where social and institutional innovation has fallen behind technological advance there are no road maps to follow in developing a more democratic type of policy. An openness to experiment needs to be accompanied by active monitoring and evaluation of the tools employed in order to facilitate the evolution of more democratic forms of governance. WHY IS DEMOCRATIZATION IMPORTANT?

Democratization of policy is important for four reasons: first, it would revitalize political institutions; second, it would expand policy participation to new international policy actors and their constituencies;

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third, it would promote social cohesion; and finally, it would create a countervailing force to the negative aspects of globalization. Each of these reasons deserves further elaboration. Revitalize Political Institutions Canadian public life, especially just before and following the dramatic federal election of October 1993, has been gripped by the perception that there is a crisis of legitimacy in traditional political institutions. Prime Minister Jean Chretien believes his government is responsible for rebuilding the public's trust in its institutions. Democratizing policy is central to this task. Surprisingly, the most detailed recommendations for democratization in the Liberal Party's election platform focused on foreign policy.' Numerous recommendations were made concerning the need for government "to listen to and reflect on the needs" of the public, to "dialogue" and "consult," as well as to expand the role of Parliament and members of Parliament. Although the assumptions behind these recommendations are not made explicit, their important feature is the openness to exploration of innovative forms of democratization. Expand Participation The realm of foreign affairs is no longer the exclusive domain of states. Many actors are involved, from transnational businesses to non-governmental organizations. Collaboration, or at least dialogue, between government and NGOs is becoming desirable or even indispensable. The growth of internationally active civil society actors is a significant component of the evolving democratization of both the international system and individual nations. In the words of Lester Salamon: The scale of change is awesome. We are in the midst of a global `associational revolution' that may prove as significant to the latter twentieth century as the rise of the nation-state was to the latter nineteenth. The upshot is a global third sector: a massive array of self-governing private organizations, not dedicated to distributing profits to shareholders or directors, pursuing public purposes outside

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the formal apparatus of the state. The proliferation of these groups may be permanently altering the relationship between states and citizens, with an impact extending far beyond the material services they provide.' Many factors account for the rise of this "third sector" and, more specifically, its involvement in international affairs. Not the least of these factors is the impact of new information technologies (such as micro-computers, Internet, satellite communications, fax, camcorders, and so forth) which have the potential to democratize access to information and analysis, and to facilitate coordinated action across borders. Other factors include the end of the Cold War, the declining role of the state, pro-active funding strategies (both governmental and non-governmental) in the nations of the North which focus on empowering civil society in the South and expanding the role of participation strategies in the development process. The result is that NGOs, despite being decentralized, are increasingly active players in global affairs. For example, national and transnational NGOs, such as Amnesty International and Greenpeace, have shown it is possible to influence international public agendas. Churches and development NGOs have started to carve out roles as "citizen diplomats," especially in areas of conflict prevention and resolution. Canadian aboriginal organizations can be key factors in forging an international agreement on Arctic policy. One of the most visible signs of the growing NGO policy role is at the United Nations. The recent cycle of UN conferences has chronicled the growing influence of the sector. It began in 1992 with the UN Conference on Environment and Development in Rio de Janeiro, which "legitimized NGOs as vital players" in policy making.' By 1994, women's organizations were galvanizing progress on difficult policy subjects at the Cairo Conference on Population and Development.' The NGOs' emergence as global policy actors is forcing the UN Economic and Social Council to redraft the rules governing their participation; it has led Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali to seek a direct alliance with NGOs to help push UN reform."

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While not diminishing the reality of policy disagreements, examples of Canadian government collaboration with NGOs on international policy are becoming frequent, whether they take the form of lobbying the United States on transborder environment issues, advancing discussions at multilateral fora such as the Organization on Security and Cooperation in Europe and the United Nations, or promoting human rights in countries as diverse as Haiti, Cambodia, and South Africa. Promote Social Cohesion Democratized policy is also an important building block in the construction of a broad social consensus. Since the reform agenda we face will increasingly disrupt current patterns of economic activity and consumption (in order to address environmental imperatives and equitable resource use), maintenance of cohesion will present a growing challenge.' Democratic approaches favour broader public education, since "political and economic literacy" are prerequisites for the public's meaningful participation in the resolution of complex problems.' Non-governmental organizations, which often have greater public and media credibility than government, will play a central role in shaping alternative visions to be expressed in new policy agendas. Either the changes will be engineered from the bottom and will be democratic, or they will be forced from the top down and be authoritarian. The global trend towards democratization is one of the few hopeful trends. The voluntary sector, with experience in innovative adult education processes and new micro-institutional arrangements, has some contributions to make to this democratization process. In addition, new approaches to the development of social consensus around fundamental policy issues will rely on the partnerships between government, the voluntary sector and the private sector to create opportunities for the public to move from "opinion" on an issue to "public judgment" on the choices to be made. However, there seems to be little national experience of evolving and managing large-scale societal processes for consensus building. Create Countervailing Force To Globalization From the perspective of NGOs, democratization helps build a positive countervailing influence against the dislocating impact of

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globalization, a phenomenon which in its current stage is deepening global poverty and social marginalization, and accelerating environmental degradation.The world is experiencing the most far-reaching change process in human history. This change is driven by global forces—economic, social, environmental, technological, political— which increasingly override traditional capabilities of states to exercise control within their borders. Globalization accentuates sub-optimal distribution of wealth within and between countries; it has led to a doubling of income disparity between rich and poor over the last three decades." According to the latest UNICEF report, "inequality has now reached monstrous proportions. Overall, the richest fifth of the world now has about 85 percent of the world's GNP while the poorest fifth has just 1.4 percent.' This highlights the need for new forms of international governance to manage a highly interdependent world equitably. In its current form globalization spreads without democratic controls; it is in fact antidemocratic inasmuch as it allows for the concentration of power in the hands of the few. As even European industrialist James Goldsmith warns, "there is a divorce between the interests of -transnational corporations and those of [their] society."16 How is it possible to overcome the inequitable, environmentally destructive and undemocratic character of globalization? Some observers point to the prior need for a paradigm shift that will make it possible to manage the construction of alternatives to inadequate existing policies." Others, such as Peter Drucker, merely encourage social and political innovation.18 In his most recent writing, Paul Kennedy lays out the framework for a comprehensive approach, and stresses how urgently necessary it has become: The only serious alternatii.re is simultaneously to persuade our political leaders to recognize the colossal, interconnected nature of our global problem...Such an effort cannot rest on a single policy...it must instead be part of a major North-South package wherein all parties, in accepting changes to their present policies, are persuaded to see that a comprehensive and co-ordinated response is the only way forward."

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Kennedy sees a window of opportunity if action is taken in the next thirty years. He gives us more time than those environmentalists who say we already live in the "turn-around decade." Social movements, grassroots and community organizations, living and working in the midst of the poor and a rapidly degrading physical environment, are the Cassandras who play the part of the early warning system, struggling to halt and reverse the sometimes hidden, and often ignored, dimensions of globalization. They are part of the accountability mechanism framing the agenda Kennedy views as indispensable.' Many NGOs see the political process as trapped in short-term thinking which disregards the urgency of global human problems, the requirements of environmental stewardship, and the relationship between the two. Existing institutions, such as fiefdom-like government departments, continue to segment problems and resist a multidisciplinary, integrative approach. The final result is that, even where problems are rhetorically acknowledged, the institutional means to address them are grossly underdeveloped. In addition, there is an absence of the political will necessary to implement an agenda for change. Thus, the complexity of the problems we face forces us to redefine how we approach solutions. Traditional uni-dimensional responses, such as those being attempted to meet humanitarian emergencies in Africa, continue to fail.' Building multi-dimensional responses cannot be solely the work of governments; new models are needed.' The democratization civil society promotes is, therefore, a direct response to globalization. Over the long term, democratic policy making offers the opportunity for all actors to move together in the same direction at the same time. In the short term, it provides an entry point for resources outside government to contribute to the discussion of alternatives.The institutions at the periphery of society, and not the government, have historically been the originators of new ideas, often contrary but progressive. DEMOCRATIC EVOLUTION OF PUBLIC POLICY

The imperatives for democratization have already begun to make themselves felt. The last ten years have seen many significant changes

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in Canada's international public policy process. An incomplete catalogue of those developments would include the following: (i) Sustained commitment to the annual human rights consultation, where Foreign Affairs and a broad range of NGOs discuss the government's analysis and agenda immediately prior to the meeting of the UN Human Rights Commission. The contribution of the Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security (CLIPS). CIIPS supported organizations active in public policy sponsored independent research, encouraged academic-NGO linkages, and hosted or supported roundtables bringing government together with non-governmental institutions.The Institute, in too brief a life, greatly expanded the space for dialogue between the Department of Foreign Affairs (and the Department of National Defence) and the interested public, and strengthened policy capacity in the non-governmental sector. (iii) The growing use of one-time or serial policy consultations covering issues such as Third World debt, conflict resolution and reconstruction in the Horn of Africa, South Africa and Central America. Some of these activities were formal roundtables (some organized by the Department, others by academics or NGOs), others were informal events with the Minister present. (iv) More consistent (and controversial for their lack of representativeness) have been the trade advisory groups, the International Trade Advisory Committee (ITAC) and the Sector Advisory Groups on International Trade (SAGIT). These meetings started out under the domination of industry, but they included some labour representation. More recently they have brought in environmental NGOs. (v) Collaborative policy development and participation in official delegations to multilateral conferences. The most sustained joint work began with the UN Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED), at which time the government announced a policy of "transparency, inclusiveness and accountability".23 The partnership

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meant that Canadian NGOs could see the direct impact of their policy contributions (and those of their overseas partners) to UNCED's final document, Agenda 21. The relationships have continued through successive UN conferences and the annual delegations to the newly established UN Commission on Sustainable Development. Important joint activities continue, including preparation of the annual "National Reports" for the UN. Although at times important differences have separated government and NGO positions, there are numerous examples of shared agendas." (vi) Preparation of guidance documents and policy statements on consultative processes by the Privy Council Office (PCO) and various government departments. The Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) released a detailed policy on consultations which described them as "deliberations between two or more parties in which all have a reasonable expectation of influencing the outcome," and laid down the purposes and roles of consultation as well as guiding principles." (vii)The Liberal caucus, during its time in opposition, expanded its own consultations with outside groups on international policy. Formal mechanisms for doing this included: caucus-organized symposia and roundtables with a broad range of NGOs and academics (as well as an occasional government department representative) and invitations for NGOs and academics to make presentations directly to the full caucus.The events covered such topics as the Gulf War, UN Reform, and UNCED. These experiences contributed to the commitments in the Liberals' "Red Book" (and "Foreign Policy Handbook"), to the democratization of policy (summarized in Chapter 1) and to the decision to proceed with a Foreign Policy Review. FOREIGN POLICY REVIEW

The Foreign Policy Review was conceived of as an ongoing process which would progressively democratize Canadian foreign policy. It began in early 1994 with several open debates: in the House of

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Commons, on foreign policy issues (such as peacekeeping in Bosnia), and in the National Forum on Canada's International Relations held in March. The Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy was established in that same month, and a series of cross-Canada consultations began. The Forum was unique in bringing together, in a broadly representative way, constituencies active in foreign policy, including businesses, academics, research organizations, NGOs, ethnic and aboriginal organizations, as well as government and parliamentarians.' Significantly, it showed that there is strong agreement on some key directions for Canadian policy. Despite the Forum's weaknesses, many of which were identified by the Special Joint Committee, it pointed to the consensus building opportunities represented by the democratization of foreign policy.' In spite of (or because of) the varied interests of those present, the Forum highlighted the imperative need to build a comprehensive framework for international policy. The Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy was a more ambiguous experience. It is an example of how the Liberal government is placing greater responsibilities on Parliament to manage policy dialogue without recognizing the requirement for resources.The Special Joint Committee met with communities across the country, organized useful thematic roundtables, and received nearly 600 briefs. However, it operated within serious constraints: lack of time (especially for members new to international policy issues), insufficient international travel, inadequate coordination, lack of strategic planning and resources for expanded public communications and dialogue (no printed materials for the public except Hansard, no interactive use of C—PAC [the Parliamentary television channel]), and opaque research procedures. The Special Joint Committee dedicated the last chapter of its report to democratization, making appropriate suggestions for the next National Fora and endorsing the Red Book proposal for a "Centre for Foreign Policy Development" in order to strengthen dialogue between different constituencies, including the government. The most significant constituency addressing the Committee was the NGO community (providing nearly half of the briefs). On the one hand, this high level of involvement reflected the NGOs' faith in

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democracy. On the other, it stemmed from their growing recognition that aid is only a small part of the answer in building equitable North-South relations and sustainable development. In fact, it was the NGO community which first called for a Foreign Policy Review in early 1993 in order to promote the examination not only of official development assistance (ODA) but also of the broad policy framework governing Canada's international relations. The NGOs' contribution focused on the need for a values-based foreign policy and for a comprehensive framework integrating different sectoral issues (economic problems, security, development, human rights, and environment). Nearly a year's worth of preparatory policy work by cac (covering both policy development and consensus building with the NGO community) resulted in "a high degree of agreement on most priority policy issues" in NGO presentations.' This preparatory work reached out to the public by involving the volunteer boards and membership of many organizations. NGOs can identify numerous policy areas where the Committee accepted or adapted their recommendations. In the short term the Special Joint Committee had limited success. It did not attract enough public attention to contribute significandy to public education and it did not produce a new consensus on Canadian foreign policy. The vagueness of its recommendations accurately reflected the complexity of the issues and the need for additional resources (especially time and research support). Subsequent steps in the continuing "Foreign Policy Review" (the government's response, the 1995 National Forum, the ongoing role of the Standing Committee, and other consultative mechanisms) require a strategic framework linking public education and consensus building more explicitly. This, we hope, will be the role of the Centre for Foreign Policy Development. CONCLUSIONS

The past five years have seen a rapid expansion of opportunities for government-NGO consultation on a wide array of issues. These developments may lead to more effective forms of democratization of international public policy.This has not, however, translated into a

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corresponding improvement in policy development. Improvement has been significant, but insufficient. The uneven nature of the evaluation to date reflects both the stilldeveloping capacities of all participants and the evolving understanding among government personnel of their commitment to the goal of democratization. In too many instances, non-governmental participants feel that consultations are taken as an opportunity to "manage" or co-opt stakeholders rather than to open up and improve the public policy process. For some in government the implied risks (such as generating unrealistic expectations, or exposing ministers to bad publicity) seem to outweigh the opportunity for both government and non-governmental actors to achieve mutually beneficial results. It is important to be realistic about the democratization of policy. It is a long-term goal, and early successes will often be modest invisible ones: policy interests easily overlap and consistent relationships are required for mutual trust to develop. The Department of Foreign Affairs has many reasons to expand consultations, some of which are related to the improvement of policy development. But other, more significant motivations include: ministerial and political imperatives, information gathering and dissemination, public relations, and the desire to pre-test policy impact on constituencies, manage stakeholder relations, generate public support, and protect departmental turf." There needs to be a more concerted emphasis placed on the policy making goals of consultation, with the implications for improving the policy process being anticipated and acted upon. Civil society organizations are still adapting to their roles as actors in public policy. Besides building their policy skills, they must recognize their role and the resources they bring to it. NGOs do have vast, though often undeveloped, policy experience through their years of work around the globe. They enjoy much greater public recognition than many governmental agencies (such as CIDA), and have greater credibility with the public and the media.' Individually and together, NGOs have significant power to influence the public policy agenda and the public policy process. In recent years, especially since UNCED, international NGOs have begun to advance from criticism of government policies towards acceptance of greater responsibility for developing policy alternatives.3'

DRAIMIN & PLEWES 77 Their critical self-awareness will determine how effectively they make this shift from the role of participants in policy making to that of principals and "key catalysts in the change process!'" NGOs recognize that to succeed in achieving their policy objectives they will at times need to work together with other sectors. Such collaboration is required to enhance their policy contributions (for example, through collaboration with academics), lay the groundwork for consensus building (with other sectors, such as business), and generate broader public support. Strategic alliance building is a central feature of NGO planning and decision making that now influences staff activities and board composition. The work of building alliances is becoming more complex as the policy process becomes more porous and attracts new policy actors.This is especially true for international NGOs, as policy frameworks increasingly link foreign and domestic issues together.The preparation for the World Summit on Social Development (WSSD) is a good example of a process in which both international and domestic NGOs are challenged to look at social development from an integrated perspective. Within government bureaucracies, NGOs are often seen as the source of fragmentation of public policy, pushing single issues rather than comprehensive frameworks. However, the NGOs' own experience and new alliances are changing their intervention strategies in the direction of stronger comprehensive linkages between issues. Consultative approaches can be employed to facilitate that trend. Many of the challenges encountered in making democratic policy more effective are shared ones. A fundamental starting point is recognition of the importance of shared responsibility for the process, including agenda setting, vision building, strategy, and monitoring. No doubt this is a complex, time-consuming process which presupposes a new culture in which to build governmental-non-governmental relationships. It challenges current perceptions, behaviour, and historic arrangements. It means transforming the current system. Another challenge is to overcome negative attitudes, about government and about civil society actors, which stifle or prejudice opportunities. It means discarding double standards which accord varying levels of equity to different stakeholders (for example government-business versus government-NGO)."

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One useful model to evaluate in this regard is the post-Rio Projet de Societe, which was set up in 1992 as a multi-stakeholder forum to build a national sustainability plan for Canada. Now operating under the aegis of the National Roundtable on the Environment and the Economy, the Projet represents the most sophisticated national model of consensus building. Government and civil society face major difficulties in reinforcing democratic development of policy, since the roles of both are changing so rapidly. In the short term, the trends characterizing these changes could significantly impair the evolution of more democratic policy processes. For example, at the same time that government is downsizing (and often transferring responsibilities to the private and voluntary sectors), it is reducing support to voluntary organizations (pejoratively described as "special interest groups"). In the international policy area this has meant the closure of CLIPS and declining financial support for other private organizations such as the Canadian Centre for Global Security.34 In the United States, the wide proliferation of policy institutions is supported by highly developed philanthropic foundations. In contrast, Canadian organizations evolved into dependence on government funding. Today's cutbacks will hobble policy development unless accompanied by transitional strategies cooperatively developed by government and the voluntary sector. Finally, the government seems determined to establish its proposed Centre for Foreign Policy Development. Such an institution could play a key role in strengthening the democratic evolution of policy by monitoring and evaluating the process, promoting "shared learning," making practical proposals to both government and civil society actors for improvement in the form of an annual assessment, and initiating cooperative approaches to policy which enhance the capacity of the existing foreign affairs constituency to be a more effective participant while broadening public participation. Pressure to democratize policy is the natural byproduct of the traumatic period of global change through which we are living. It is more than just a positive and universal value; democratization of policy is also an integral part of building sustainable societies for future generations. It deserves much greater scrutiny, support and involvement on the part of all sectors of Canadian society

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NOTES 1 Differing definitions exist for what constitutes "civil society." The International Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development (ICHRDD) has described it as "the sum of all social institutions and associations (excluding the family) which are autonomous, independent of the state, and capable of significantly influencing public policy." See ICHRDD, Libertas: The Bulletin of the ICHRDD 3, no. 4 (September 1993), 3-4. The authors hold a narrower view of civil society, one as defined by Laura Macdonald, which excludes business: "civil society constitutes the arena of organized political activity between the private sphere (the household and the firm) and the formal political institutions of governance (the parliament, political parties, the army, the judiciary, etc.)." (See Laura Macdonald, "Non-governmental Organizations: Agents of a 'New Development'?," Canadian Council for International Cooperation Mimeo, 1994, 5.). 2 Kim Richard Nossal has argued that greater participation has been confused with greater democratization.While greater participation per se is not necessarily more democratic, it is true that a more democratic policy will be characterized by more inclusive forms of participation. This does not mean simply broadening participation in existing policy mechanisms but expanding the policy process to offer more effective forms of participation at different (and new) stages. And as we note below, it also means clarifying the "expert-public gap." See Kim Richard Nossal, "The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy?" Canadian Foreign Policy 1, no. 3 (Fall 1993). 3 See Daniel Yankelovich, Coming to Public Judgment: Making Democracy Work in a Complex World, (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1992). 4

Putting People First:Towards a Canadian Foreign Policy for the 21st Century, (Ottawa: Canadian Council for International Cooperation, 1993), 6.

5 See David Held, "Democracy", in Joel Krieger, ed., The Oxford Companion to Politics of the World, (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 220-24. 6 There is a welcome growth in critical and useful NGO literature. See for example: Peter Wahl,"A Job for Sisyphus? Building an International NGO Movement;' Northern Lights (n.d.), no. 6; and Jenny Pearce,"NGOs and Social Change: Agents or Facilitators," Development in Practice 3, no. 3 (October 1993) 222-27. 7 See the "Foreign Policy Handbook" (May 1993), a portfolio compendium having the status of an "annex" to the Liberal Red Book Creating Opportunity - The Liberal Plan for Canada, (Ottawa, 1993).

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8 Lester M. Salamon, "The Rise of the Nonprofit Sector," Foreign Affairs 73, no. 4, 109. 9 Yolanda Kakabadse N. with Sarah Burns, "Movers and Shapers: NGOs in International Affairs," International Perspectives on Sustainability, (Washington: World Resources Institute, May 1994), 1. 10 Doris Anderson, "Women Pry Open UN Conferences," Toronto Star, November 2, 1994. 11 "Only the expressed will of the people can impress upon their Governments the importance of committed participation [in the UN]. By deepening United Nations involvement with, and responsiveness to, the concerns of grassroots movements, and non-governmental organizations, support for the United Nations can be strengthened from the ground up...", Report of the Secretary-General, September 1994, 101. 12 At the global level, there is no democratic control over the consumption of non-renewable resources, since one-fifth of the world's population consumes four-fifths of all resources. Given the limits of the biosphere's carrying capacity, there is pressure on developing societies not to develop in ways which reproduce the same environmental impact as the developed world's model. How can environmentally sound resource management (and development) be made more democratic without impinging on current forms of development? 13 Public Policy Forum, Making Government Work, June 23, 1993, [v]. 14 See United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), Human Development Report 1992, (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), especially Chapter Three; "The Widening Gap in Global Opportunities." 15 United Nations Children's Fund, The State of the World's Children 1995, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 44. 16 James Goldsmith, The Trap, quoted in Richard Gwyn, "Thank God for a Few Heretics from Free Trade Dogma," Toronto Star, December 4, 1994. See also Richard J. Barnet and John Cavanagh, Global Dreams: Imperial Corporations and the New World Order, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1994); Richard J. Barnet,"Stateless Corporations: Lords of the Global Economy," The Nation, December 19, 1994; Robert Chodos, Rae Murphy and Eric Hamovitch, Canada and the Global Economy: Alternatives to the Corporate Strategy for Globalization, (Toronto: James Lorimer & Co., 1993). 17 See, for example, Hazel Henderson, Paradigms in Progress: Life Beyond Economics, (Indianapolis: Knowledge Systems, 1991), or ODII, The New Development Paradigm: Organizing for Implementation, (Washington: Organizing for Development - An International Institute, 1993).

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18 Peter Drucker, "The Age of Social Transformation:' The Atlantic, November 1994, 80. 19 Paul Kennedy and Matthew Connelly, "Our Backs to the World," Toronto Star, November 27, 1994, E4. 20 Jeremy Brecher andTim Costello,"The Lilliput Strategy:Taking on the Multinationals:' The Nation, December 19, 1994, 760. For a parallel analysis see: "New Alliances and Alignments: From the Local to the Global," Sustainable Development Bulletin 3, no. 15 Gune 15, 1994), 1-4. Some activists are even more explicit in envisaging a "Lilliputian" strategy for NGOs and social movements, aimed at tying down globalization. "The Lilliput Strategy;' say authors Jeremy Brecher and Tim Costello, "assumes that multiple threads of grass-roots action around the world are needed. It assumes the construction of a transnational social movement..." 21 See, for example, A. John Watson, "How We Botched It in Rwanda," Globe and Mail, December 23, 1994,A17. 22 For an examination of NGOs and the democratization of policy in Latin America see Tim Draimin, "Potential for Partnership: International Cooperation Institutions and Canadian and Latin American NGOs," Latin America and Caribbean Regional Office Discussion Series: I, (Montevideo: International Development Research Centre, July 1994). 23 In 1993 the House of Commons Standing Committee on the Environment described the policy: "The process must be transparent and accessible to all people who may be affected by the decisions. The second key to ensuring progress is the inclusion of all sectors of society in a decision-making partnership. From open negotiation and inclusive consensus flows all-sector accountability." Canada, Parliament, Report of the House of Commons Standing Committee on the Environment, A Global Partnership: Canada and the Conventions of the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED), (Ottawa, April 1993), 13. 24 One recent example of the latter was the shared approach taken by both the government and NGOs at the November 1994 meeting of the Intersessional Meeting of the ECOSOC Review of Arrangements for Consultations with NGOs at the UN. 25 "CIDA's Policy on Consultation with Canadian (Civil Society) Stakeholders," (September 22, 1993), 2. 26 One constituency, business, was less enthusiastic about participating than most others. Business usually has little difficulty in establishing

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liaison with government and probably had less incentive to participate in multi-stakeholder meetings such as the Forum. 27 Canada, Parliament, Report of the Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future, (Ottawa, November 1994), 87. 28 For an analysis of a representative sample of NGO briefs see: Brian Rowe, "A Review of Selected CLIC Member and Non-Member Briefs to the Joint Parliamentary Committee Reviewing Canada's Foreign Policy," (Ottawa: Canadian Council for International Cooperation, September 1994). 29 See Alison Van Rooy, "Debating the New Imperative: Public Consultation and the Department of External Affairs," Policy Planning Staff Paper No. 93/09, (Ottawa, April 1993). 30 See Sean Moore, "Notes for Remarks to CLIC June 17, 1993," in The Policy Formulation Process: An NGO Learning Experience, (CCIC: Ottawa, December 1933), 30. 31 A remarkable example of this change can be seen in the "international treaties" which NGOs from around the world negotiated among themselves at UNCED, setting out the embryonic elements of a comprehensive alternative policy agenda. See International NGO Forum (INGOF), The NGO Alternative Treaties and the NGO Treaty Process: A Complete Edition of the Alternative Treaties from the International NCO Forum, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, June 1-14, 1992, February 1994. 32 See Peter Padbury and Maximo Kalaw, "The Non-Governmental Organization Treaties:What Next?", in The NGO Alternative Treaties, 3. 33 The Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade finds it easier to develop consultative mechanisms with business than with other sectors. Some recent examples are the trade advisory mechanisms (e.g. ITAC and SAGIT mentioned above), special business advisory groups (such as the International Business Development Review), and a special liaison unit within the Department. 34 The cutbacks to domestic organizations will also affect international policy development. For example, the National Anti-Poverty Organization (NAPO), a key participant in the policy preparations for the WSSD, is threatened with loss of core grants from government.

V Women, and Gender, In the Foreign Policy Review Process

SANDRA WHITWORTH

When the Liberal Government called for a review of Canadian foreign policy, it indicated that democratization of the foreign policy process would be an important part of that review.' This announcement was a welcome one for women's organizations, which have been long and noticeably absent from the foreign policy process in Canada.' A variety of women's groups and individual women submitted briefs or appeared before the Special Joint Committee charged with reviewing Canada's foreign policy; they presented a range of opinions about the form and substance of Canadian foreign policy, among them concerns about peacekeeping, human rights, economic globalization and free trade. Participation in these hearings was far more extensive than it had been in previous foreign policy reviews: for example, three times as many women's

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groups appeared before the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy (hereafter Special Joint Committee) in 1994 as had done so in the 1986 foreign policy review conducted by the Conservative government.' Despite these more extensive consultations, however, the issues raised by women's groups appear in the Committee's Report in only a few instances, and where they do they are supported with little detail and few recommendations. As Kim Richard Nossal has argued, efforts such as the foreign policy review are not examples of democratization but rather techniques of political management, in which governments select from the variety of invited views those which justify their own preferences.' Noam Chomsky's notion of "manufacturing consent,' or Cranford Pratt's "erosion of dissent," capture a similar phenomenon.6 However it is characterized, the recent treatment of women's groups illustrates well the claim that this sort of review process is not aimed at democratization in any meaningful sense. While women's organizations were invited to submit briefs and appear before the Special Joint Committee, their views were largely ignored in the final Report. Moreover, it is reasonable to assume that even more will be left on the cutting room floor when the Liberal Government determines which elements of the Report to adopt in its February 1995 Policy Statement. The exclusion of women's views in a process which was aimed at being more, rather than less, inclusive reflects a number of characteristics which are endemic in foreign policy. For one, as Steve Smith has argued, foreign policy is the most undemocratic realm of any government's decision making apparatus, in part because of the way in which references to "the national interest" are regularly used to silence and contain inquiry and dissent.' Similarly, the study and practice of international relations in general, and foreign policy in particular, remain the most unrepresentative of women or of feminist analyses; resistance to any change in this respect is dependent upon the assumed, and regularly asserted, gender neutrality of these areas' These two characteristics blend together in a number of very specific ways when we consider the participation of women in the foreign policy review. Primarily, women's groups, when they engage in discussions of foreign policy, employ very different terms of debate

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and referents from those used by policy makers in Ottawa.' Even when understood in its most straightforward sense, the demand by many women's groups that account should be taken of the impact which different foreign policies will have on women and women's lives would fundamentally transform the way in which we understand foreign policy" This is so because women's organizations do not seek to privilege abstract notions of "the national interest," nor do they attempt to sustain traditional divisions between foreign and domestic policy public and private issues or political and personal affairs; women's groups see each of these as interrelated in obvious and yet complex ways." But while women's groups deny arbitrary boundaries, the central dilemma they face is speaking to governments and review committees which are premised, and which indeed depend upon, those very boundaries. Not only are government bureaucracies divided into branches and agencies which parcel up particular areas of expertise, but they also tend to acknowledge only those issues which fit into politics traditionally defined, the working of power within the "public sphere."' That distinction is one which historically has ensured the invisibility of women involved in political activities, and which serves to de-legitimize the issues which women do raise as importantly political. The experiences of women's groups in the foreign policy review illustrates these claims well.Women's groups participated in a consultative process, but do not appear to have been taken seriously by the Special Joint Committee. Moreover, a number of the women who appeared before the Committee reported that, while committee members listened politely to their presentations, they did not engage them in questions and in general did not seem to grasp the significance of their proposals. As one witness said, "they just didn't seem to get it."" Nonetheless, the manner in which these groups articulated their concerns provides us with the opportunity to review the different "visions" of foreign policy which emerged from women's organizations. If taken seriously, the demands of many women's groups would make sexual harassment on the part of peacekeepers as important a problem as funding for peacekeeping; they would make the working conditions of women factory workers around the world

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a central consideration in trade agreements; they would sharply reduce military spending and divert the resources saved to funding for education and sustainable development; and they would eliminate arms production and exports altogether, to name only a few recommendations. In short, proposals made by women's organizations would fundamentally alter the goals of Canadian foreign policy in such a way that current foreign policy makers would probably find them unrecognizable. The rest of this chapter outlines the extent to which the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future (hereafter Report) did discuss women and women's issues, and then contrasts this coverage with the kinds of suggestions and recommendations which women's groups made to the Committee. The conclusion suggests that the absence of women's views in the Special Joint Committee's final report marks a failure in the "manufacture" of consent. While Canadian foreign policy cannot incorporate the contributions made by women's groups and still maintain the status quo, neither can it ignore women's views and claim to have promoted the democratization of foreign policy in any meaningful sense." These arguments will be examined below. PRINCIPLES AND PRIORITIES FOR THE FUTURE: WHERE ARE THE WOMEN?

The five actual references to women in the Special Joint Committee Report, Dissenting Opinions' can be grouped around three themes: gender equity and status of women issues; the protection of women and children; and, women in development. The treatment of each of these themes will be described briefly here. The Report's concern about the status of women emerges in its opening chapter when, along with human rights, visible minorities, education and social justice, the "status of women" is mentioned as one of the increasingly prominent "human dimensions" of foreign policy.' Similarly, the final comment made on women in the Report appears in its discussion of multilateralism, in which is noted approvingly a recommendation pressing for gender equity within all levels

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of the United Nations (UN) Secretariat, made by the Canadian Committee for the 50th Anniversary of the UN. The Special Joint Committee Report suggests that the Canadian government should consider such proposals." The only recommendation in which reference to "women" is made appears in the Report's consideration of Official Development Assistance (ODA), where the theme of the status of women appears again. In this case, a little more detail is provided and it is noted that improving the status of women in developing countries will involve promoting education programs for girls, providing reproductive health services, reforming legal systems and supporting women's organizations.' The Report also suggests that women must be included as "decision-makers, participants and beneficiaries of development."' The final two references to women appear in the Report's discussion of trade, wherein it is noted that a number of groups recommended that Canada curtail its trade with nations which, among other things, "abuse women and children,' or "subjugate women and children."' The Committee agreed with these recommendations but, notably in its own recommendations, employed more "genderneutral" terms: human rights abuses and labour standards." In addition to noting how few references are made to women in the final Report, there are a number of further observations which can be made. For one, there is very little detail in any of the references. Neither the "status of women" nor the "subjugation of women and children" is described or defined in any detail; they are merely mentioned. Examples are not provided to support their alleged importance, or to illustrate how they are understood in this document. Likewise, and with the exception of the references to women and development (on which the Canadian International Development Agency—ciDA—has had formal policies in place for ten years), there are no practical solutions or plans of action provided, nor any suggested timelines to indicate when suggested policies ought to be implemented. The goal of gender equity in the UN Secretariat, for example, is cited as an important objective, but there is no suggested time frame within which such a goal might be accomplished.

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The two references to "women and children" are also very revealing.While the status of women references speak of an assumed equality between women and men, the "women and children" statements, in contrast, consist of much more traditional assertions about the importance of protecting women and children. We are concerned here with the special and differentiated mistreatment of women and children. Such protection is often quite laudable, but there is also much feminist analysis which explores the gendered assumptions which underlie this way of depicting women. It is worth noting briefly that in this type of formulation, women, like children, are assumed to be incapable of taking care of themselves; they are, in short, infantilized and deprived of their agency.' AsV. Spike Peterson and Anne Sisson Runyan write, women are thus depicted as "the ever-present victims in need of protection by men or through maledefined programs?' We therefore have a review of foreign policy which mentions women a mere five times, and in two of those references women are joined unproblematically with children. There are no examples, evidence or illustrations used to support the references to or concerns about the status of women or women's subjugation. The only reference which provides any proposals for change briefly reiterates a well-established focus of Canadian foreign policy of the last decade. WHAT DID THE WOMEN'S ORGANIZATIONS SAY?

In contrast to the lack of detail found in the Report, women's organizations provided lengthy accounts of their policy proposals and concerns. Not only is more information provided about these issues, but many additional issues are discussed as well. This section will review the details of some of these submissions. One of the issues raised in the Report was examined also by a number of the women's groups; that is, the promotion of gender equity within the United Nations. The Canadian Committee for UNIFEM (United Nations Development Fund for Women), the National Council of Women of Canada, Voice of Women Ontario and the Women and Foreign Policy Committee all suggested that the Canadian government should push for increased participation by

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women within the UN. Where these briefs differed from the Special Joint Committee's Report was in providing a more detailed rationale for such a proposal. Arguments were made to include women both for reasons of equality, and in order to bring women's points of view to important decision making bodies. It was also argued, by the Women and Foreign Policy Committee, that simple measures such as gender equity contribute to the strengthening of civil society and the promotion of good governance in countries around the world." The issue of human rights was raised numerous times in the submissions by women's groups. The Immigrant Women's Association of Manitoba, for example, noted simply that Canada needed to put more pressure on countries that committed human rights abuses and that discriminated against women.' The submission of the Women and Foreign Policy Committee provided examples detailing the kinds of human rights abuses women face around the world, including illiteracy rates of 40 percent in parts of Africa and Southern and Western Asia; laws in countries such as Kenya and Tanzania which prevent women from owning a house; the recourse to prostitution because of economic need, and so on? These examples illustrate well the different notion of rights employed by women's groups, as compared with traditional accounts of human rights. They did not focus strictly on civil and political rights, but made links to violence, literacy and also development. Sometimes picking up on the concerns about women and children which were noted above, groups like the National Council of Women argued that during armed conflicts, there have been serious transgressions of human rights, and this has been made devastatingly clear in the sexual abuse of women and children during war.' Other groups, such as the Canadian Committee for UNIFEM, noted a complex set of conditions which contribute to human rights abuses and violence against women and which are not particular to wartime or crises but can occur at any time and usually within the family.Along with religious and cultural practices, so UNIFEM argued, the negative effects of development strategies, structural adjustment policies and environmental degradation, often coupled with family tensions, led to family violence and abuse? The important point here is that not only are human rights understood more broadly, but also

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that the relationship between human rights and development and violence is underlined.As the UNIFEM document noted,"Only when women experience the practical enjoyment of human rights and fundamental freedoms, and are free from abuse, will they be able to participate fully in and benefit from development?'" A range of options was presented by women's organizations as a response to human rights abuses against women. Some simply urged the Canadian government to respond to such abuses, but the Women and Foreign Policy Committee provided an extensive and detailed list of policy alternatives, including Canadian leadership in encouraging all governments to ratify without reservations the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women; Canadian leadership in encouraging other countries to recognize persecution on the basis of gender as grounds for refugee status; the promotion of women's rights through mainstream multilateral institutions; and, lastly, provision of sufficient human and financial resources and a demonstration of high-level Ministerial support for the 1995 World Conference on Women in Beijing?' Some of these issues were raised independently of the question of human rights: for example, violence against women and violence specifically directed against refugee women appeared as separate and equally important issues in a number of the submissions." Such separate presentations were particularly notable in the case of development assistance, which, while linked to human rights, also received exclusive attention by several of the women's organizations. Some of the suggestions very closely parallelled those which appeared in the final Report. For example, education for women and girls, decision making roles within development projects and reproductive health issues were raised by several groups. Other important questions were also examined, including the impact of deforestation and water pollution on women, the role of women in agriculture and manufacturing and the impact on women of structural adjustment programs." Explicit attention was devoted to the ways in which the debt burdens of many developing countries affect women, and in the UNIFEM submission it was suggested that the Canadian government should promote "debt-for-development conversion," in which local currency is "swapped" for a reduction in the debt burden.

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Submissions also outlined the extent to which development assistance must be aimed at the world's poorest people. A number of concerns related to this theme were echoed in the Special Joint Committee's Report: it urged the Canadian government to ensure that half of all international assistance be devoted to the poorest groups, and suggested that the impact of structural adjustment programs on the most vulnerable segments of society must be examined.' It is, however, important to notice that each of the Report's references to structural adjustment and the world's poor is couched in gender neutral terms.While women's organizations pointed to the prevalence of women amongst the world's poorest people, any such observations are deleted by the Special Joint Committee. In addition to development, numerous submissions focused on the ways in which trade impacts on women around the world. Many of the groups noted the extent to which trade agreements affect women: for example, the recent Uruguay Round phase-out of restrictions in the clothing industry will disproportionately affect women in that sector in Canada, where they make up the bulk of the labour force." Trade liberalization was also cited as a contributing factor in the deterioration of labour standards in many developing countries. MATCH International provided examples of some 10,000 women in Santiago "locked in" sweatshops over night, "waiting for the boss to release them in the morning."36The Canadian Committee for UNIFEM highlighted the disastrous consequences of such labour practices, referring to the death of over 200 women in Bangkok, killed when a fire broke out in their "locked in" factory. The women's groups advocated gender sensitive monitoring of trade agreements and stronger enforcement of international labour standards. They noted that both particular countries, such as Canada, and multilateral trade institutions such as the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) and the World Trade Organization, need to monitor the impact of trade agreements on women and the promotion of labour standards." The review of Canada's foreign policy does mention the enforcement of international labour standards, but, as in its treatment of the poor and structural adjustment policies, the review has done so without noting the specific importance of this issue for women. No mention is made in the Special Joint

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Committee's report of more general monitoring of the impact of trade policies on women more generally. At least two of the submissions by women's groups referred to the specific issue of trade in arms and linked it to the issue of military spending.The Voice ofWomen and the Canadian Federation of University Women both urged the Canadian government to end its role in the commercial arms trade and take on a leadership role in ending the global arms trade. They both also argued that Canada, as the eighth largest military producer in the world (and fourteenth largest exporter of military products) should begin the process of converting military production to civilian production.' While a number of the groups supported Canada's role as a peacekeeper, in several of the submissions this kind of observation was made with qualifications. The Voice of Women argued that non-military applications of peacekeeping must be developed and pointed out specifically that the reliance on the military for peacekeeping missions has had little effect in the promotion of peace. More importantly, they state that military involvement in peacekeeping operations has often been accompanied by sexual harassment and exploitation of girls and women, phenomena which go unreported by the media and by governments. The only real concerns about peacekeeping in the Report of the Special Joint Committee related to the funding of such operations and the changing nature of peacekeeping missions; no reference was made to the occurrence of sexual harassment during peacekeeping to which the women's groups had referred." Finally, almost all of the submissions spoke of the environment. Some focused on the impact which environmental degradation can have on women's lives, and, like the Voice ofWomen, linked unconstrained technological advances with human and environmental exploitation. Other groups such as the Women and Foreign Policy Committee observed that "through their use of water, land, forests, and plants women have developed considerable knowledge of the sustainable use of natural resources?"40 There is a source of information and expertise, according to this group, which remains untapped. Again, while the Report briefly discusses the environment, there is no explicit attention given to the relationship between women and the environment.

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CONCLUSIONS

The introduction to this chapter cited Kim Richard Nossal as arguing that "encouraging many voices" may be a disingenuous approach to democratizing foreign policy, aimed more at political management than actual democratization. Usually, he observes, only a few elite groups are invited to participate in such events.' The experience of women's groups in this process is partly illustrative of this assertion, for while many of the groups presented insightful critiques of Canadian foreign policy, their number was not large, nor was it representative of the wide variety of women's groups within Canadian society which have opinions on foreign policy issues. Nossal's observation that these invited groups (whether they be women's groups or any other "interest group") are unrepresentative need not lead us to accept his proposal, which is to abandon participatory forms of democracy altogether in favour of greater public accountability through the agency of our elected representatives.' Party and electoral representation has historically not been any more representative of women, and indeed has been an area in which women remain extremely under-represented. While the women's groups that appeared before the Special Joint Committee were not entirely representative of women across the country, they were far more representative than our parliamentarians. Reliance on our backbenchers offers no solutions for women demanding greater input and representation in the foreign policy process. The view put forward here is that the political management of women's groups confirms very satisfactorily work by Noam Chomsky on the manufacture of consent or by Cranford Pratt on the dissolution of dissent. Both Pratt and Chomsky underline the extent to which the state seeks to secure the consent, not of the masses of citizens but of the educated, attentive public. The foreign policy review reflects such a process: the invited women's groups were representative not of all women, nor of all Canadians, but of part of the attentive public. Indeed, it is because they are a part of the attentive public that their views in particular must be managed. This chapter also suggests that the views of women's groups were not managed particularly well by the Canadian government.The fact

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that many of the arguments and recommendations made by women's groups were simply ignored indicates an unsuccessful attempt to manufacture consent on the part of these groups. This process is one which reminds women's organizations of their difficulty in engaging with the foreign policy elite. It stems in part from the very different ways of understanding foreign policy: women's organizations make explicit the gendered nature of particular foreign policies, while the Special Joint Committee Report opts for gender neutrality; women's groups see a clear relationship between trade agreements, the promotion of manufactured exports and the working conditions of women who are locked in to factories and risk death, while the Report acknowledges no such connections; women's groups explain the relationship between gender equity in UN staffing and civil societies while the Report simply names gender equity as something to be considered; and so on. The review process also illustrates the different notions of democracy being employed. For the Canadian government, the direct involvement of Canadian citizens in the consultative process is at least a partial step toward greater democratization. For many feminists, however, democracy is not just a process, it is also an outcome; it is not merely being represented, it is also being acknowledged." As has been argued in this chapter, women's groups may have been represented at the Special Joint Committee review, but their views went largely unacknowledged in its final report. While women's organizations find the consultation and reporting process of the Special Joint Committee disappointing, they should opt neither for a reliance on parliamentarians as suggested by Nossal, nor for abandoning the consultative process altogether in despair of ever being "heard." Instead, what the current foreign policy review process exemplifies is the need for continued consultation and confrontation with Canada's foreign policy elite. In the absence of such encounters, the invisibility of women's issues and concerns will become more, rather than less, legitimized. To paraphrase Cynthia Enloe in her discussion of militarism, feminists have to argue on two fronts simultaneously: the first is that foreign policy is too important to be left alone; and the second is that foreign policy is too important."

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POSTSCRIPT: Two months after the Special Joint Committee submitted its review of Canadian foreign policy, the Government issued both a Response and a Government Statement entitled Canada in the World. Like the Joint Committee report, there are few references to women or women's issues in either of these documents. In the Response, the government addresses each of the recommendations found in the Committee's review, and agrees with the one recommendation made by the Committee concerning women; that is, it agrees that "women in development" should be one of the priorities of Canada's Official Development Assistance.' Similarly, the government statement mentions women a few times, in reference to human rights and development.' With women's issues and concerns unrepresented yet again, the promise in both of these document to encourage a more democratized foreign policy process rings very hollow indeed.

NOTES The author would like to thank Mark Neufeld for advice and insights into numerous points made in this chapter and Guy Larocque for his research assistance on this project. 1 "Guidance Paper for the Special Joint Parliamentary Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy," Appendix A in Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices (hereafter Dissenting Opinions), 33. 2 For a general review of the absence of women from the Canadian foreign policy process, see Deborah Stienstra,"Can the Silence be Broken: Gender and Canadian Foreign Policy," International Journal, forthcoming. 3 See Report of the Special Joint Committee on Canada's International Relations, Independence and Internationalism, (Canada: June 1986), Appendices B and C. 4 Kim Richard Nossal, "The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy?" Canadian Foreign Policy 1, no. 3 (Fall 1993), 101-02. 5 Noam Chomsky, "The Manufacture of Consent," in James Peck, ed., The Chomsky Reader, (NewYork: Pantheon Books, 1989), 121-36.

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6 Cranford Pratt,"Dominant Class Theory and Canadian Foreign Policy: The Case of the Counter-Consensus," International Journal, 39, (Winter 1983-84), 120. 7 Steve Smith, "Reasons of State," in David Held and Christopher Pollit, eds., New Forms of Democracy, (London: Sage Publications, 1986), 193 and 195. 8 For a larger discussion of this, see my Feminism and International Relations: Towards a Political Economy of Interstate and Non-Governmental Organizations, (London: Macmillan, 1994). 9 This dichotomy is somewhat inaccurate, for it suggests that it is only women's groups which employ a "language" or set of priorities which are different from those of government officials. In fact, this was true of many of the NGOs appearing before the Special Committee, development agencies in particular. Indeed, many development agencies expressed a concern for "women's issues" and this has not been examined in this chapter. The purpose here has been to highlight a set of actors, women's organizations, regularly ignored in the foreign policy process, but it is not the author's intention to obscure the ways in which many other groups are engaged in similar struggles with the foreign policy establishment. 10 For a similar argument made about international relations more generally, see Christine Sylvester, "The Emperors' Theories and Transformations: Looking at the Field Through Feminist Lenses," in Dennis Pirages and Christine Sylvester, eds., Transformations in the Global Political Economy, (London: Macmillan, 1990), 230-53; Anne Sisson Runyan and V. Spike Peterson, "The Radical Future of Realism: Feminist Subversions of IR Theory," Alternatives, 16 (Winter 1991), 67-106. For another treatment of this argument and Canadian foreign policy, see Stienstra, "Gender." 11 The Special Joint Committee actually does refer to the extent to which domestic and foreign policy are closely interrelated, though the interrelationship is understood in traditional political-economic terms: for example, international events are seen to impact, and constrain, the Canadian government's ability to act autonomously, and likewise the strength of the Canadian economy is seen to affect Canada's ability to act as a legitimate actor on the world stage.This is quite different from the proposals made by women's organizations which, in general, call for an even more radical blurring of these distinctions. 12 V. Spike Peterson and Anne Sisson Runyan, Global Gender Issues, (Boulder: Westview Press, 1993), 45.

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13 Personal interviews, not for attribution. 14 Pratt, "Dominant Class Theory," 120. 15 There is no mention of"women" or "women's issues" in the Dissenting Opinions. 16 Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future (hereafter Report), 7. 17 Report, 82. 18 Report, 50. 19 Report, 50. 20 Report, 36. 21 Report, 37. 22 Report, 37. 23 See Whitworth, Feminism and International Relations, especially Chapter 5; and Cynthia Enloe, "The Gendered Gulf," in Cynthia Peters, ed., Collateral Damage: The "New World Order" at Home and Abroad, (Boston: South End Press, 1992), 93-110. 24 Peterson and Runyan, Global Gender Issues, 73. 25 Women and Foreign Policy Committee,"R.eviewing Canada's Foreign Policy: Focusing on Women," n.d., 5; National Council of Women of Canada, "Brief to the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy,: June 8, 1994, 2; Canadian Committee for UNIFEM, "Submission to the Special Joint Parliamentary Committee reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy" n.d., not paginated; Voice of Women, Ontario, "Presentation to the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canada's Foreign Policy," June 16, 1994, 6. 26 Immigrant Women's Association of Manitoba, Inc., "Brief to the Foreign Policy Review Committee," n.d., not paginated. 27 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 2. 28 National Council of Women of Canada,"Brief," June 8, 1994, 3. 29 Canadian Committee for UNIFEM, "Submission," n.d., not paginated. 30 Canadian Committee for UNIFEM, "Submission," n.d. not paginated. 31 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 3. 32 See for example Immigrant Women's Association of Manitoba, 1. 33 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 4; National Council of Women of Canada; Canadian Federation of University Women; Canadian Committee for UNIFEM.

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34 Report, 53. 35 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 8. 36 MATCH International Centre, "Presentation to the Special Joint Parliamentary Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy," June 8, 1994, 7. 37 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 9; MATCH International, 7. 38 Voice of Women, Ontario, 4-5; Canadian Federation of University Women, 5. 39 Voice of Women, 3. 40 Women and Foreign Policy Committee, 7. 41 Nossal, Democratization, 103. 42 See Smith, "Reasons of State," 211 fr. on the relationship of this view of democracy to realism in the study of international relations. 43 See Iris MarionYoung, Justice and the Politics of Difference, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), for a general discussion of democracy and justice. 44 Cynthia Enloe, "The Right to Fight:A Feminist Catch-22," Ms., July August 1993, 87. 45 Canada, Government Response to the Recommendations of the Special Joint Parliamentary Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, (Ottawa: February, 1995), 60. 46 Canada, Canada in the World — Government Statement, (Ottawa: February, 1995), 34, 40, 42, 45.

VI Construction of Consensus: The 1994 Canadian Defence Review

ROBERT J. LAWSON

The 1994 defence review began as an attempt to implement the Liberal Party's promises to democratize the process of defence policy formulation in Canada while shifting Canadian defence policy away from its Cold War fixation and into the service of a "far more activist, internationalist and independent foreign policy.' To facilitate the participation of Canadians in the development of Canada's first post-Cold War defence policy, the Liberal government created a Special Joint Committee of the House of Commons and Senate, tasked with public consultation and the preparation of a report which would contribute to the preparation of a White Paper on defence.' After consulting with soldiers, defence experts, defence industries, peace groups, bureaucrats and average Canadians, the Special Joint Committee issued its report on October 31, 1994,

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under the tide Security in a Changing World. One month later the Liberal government released a White Paper on defence. This chapter examines the nine-month review process with two questions in mind. First, how democratic was the process? And second, how well did the process meet the Liberal government's objective of developing an independent Canadian response to an increasingly complex post-Cold War security environment? DEMOCRATIZING CANADIAN DEFENCE POLICY

Despite the fact that Canadians have spent several hundred billion dollars on defence since the Second World War, defence policy reviews consistently fail to attract much public interest. Unfortunately, a similar observation can be made of Parliament's willingness to involve itself in defence matters. In the absence of public outrage or parliamentary concern over specific defence issues, such as cruise missile testing or the commitment of Canadian forces to potentially hostile actions, Canada's defence bureaucracy is generally allowed to navigate its own course through the international security environment. Thus, changes in Canadian defence policy are generally impelled either by the visions of a few defence and foreign policy thinkers and 'stakeholders' within the government of the day or, more likely, by fiscal constraints, rather than by genuine democratic debate over the purposes Canadians see for their military. Beyond the public and Parliament, another possible opening for democratic participation in the formulation of defence policy is provided by the release of a defence White Paper. However, defence White Papers are rare phenomena, possibly because their inability to stimulate public interest in defence policy has only been exceeded by the incapacity of their authors to judge successfully the trajectory of the international security environment. There have been only two Defence White Papers released over the three decades that have passed since Paul Hellyer's 1964 White Paper on Defence sent the Canadian Defence establishment on its painful course towards unification. Donald Macdonald's 1971 Defence in the 70s underestimated the fragility of detente, while Perrin Beatty's 1987 Challenge and Conunitnient saw no end to the Cold War less than two years before the fall of the Berlin Wall.

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The Liberal Party's strategy for democratizing the 1994 defence policy review was clearly based on the assumption that parliamentary activism could stimulate public interest in defence while forcing defence bureaucrats to pay greater attention to public and parliamentary views in the development of their White Paper.To this end, a Joint Parliamentary Committee on Canada's Defence Policy (hereafter termed the Joint Defence Committee) was created, composed of 11 members of the House of Commons and 5 members of the Senate. In February 1994, the Joint Defence Committee was provided with a Guidance Document from the Minister of National Defence and directed by Parliament to "consult broadly" and make recommendations "concerning the objectives and conduct of Canada's Defence Policy."' The work plan of the Committee was structured around public and private hearings in Ottawa and across Canada, combined with a series of visits to allied capitals, alliance headquarters, and Canadian Forces units in Bosnia, Croatia, and in the Adriatic Sea.4 The Committee was asked to report its findings by the Fall of 1994 in order to provide input into efforts within the Department of National Defence to release a defence White Paper before the end of the year. The Liberals did not go so far as to issue an "invitation to struggle" with the Government over defence policy on a regular basis, but they clearly gave Parliament an "invitation for advice."' As a blueprint for the democratization of the process of Canadian defence policy formulation, this model appeared, on the surface at least, to be suitable to the specificities of the Canadian parliamentary system. Kim Richard Nossal has argued that the key to the democratization of the policy process in this form of governance is to allow Parliament to "define the interests" of the entire community while subjecting policy decisions to a "full airing," in order to ensure that these policies reflect the interests of the "many rather than the few."' Within this process Nossal rejects "techniques of political management" which provide "academics" and a wide assortment of "interest groups, ethnic groups, and non-governmental organizations" with privileged access to inner policy circles.' He concludes that the national legislature remains the "most appropriate forum" for the discussion of issues affecting all Canadians.

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Not surprisingly, the practices of Canadian parliamentary democracy often fall short of our theoretical expectations. A critical overview of the 1994 Defence Review reveals serious weaknesses in the argument that Parliament is effective in defining the interests of Canadians as a whole rather than the interests of the few who are stakeholders within the Canadian defence establishment. The composition of the Joint Defence Committee, its approach to consultations with Canadians, and its final product all indicate significant flaws in the policy process which must be corrected before it can be claimed that Parliament truly represents the interests of all Canadians on defence matters. COMMITTEE COMPOSITION AND MINISTERIAL GUIDANCE

Drawing from all "recognized" parties within Parliament, the Joint Defence Committee included two Liberal and three Progressive Conservative Senators along with seven Liberal MPs, two members of the Bloc Quebecois, and two Reform members. The House representation was drawn from the House of Commons Standing Committee on National Defence and Veterans Affairs.With justification, Bloc Quebecois members questioned the "genuinely parliamentary character" of a Joint Defence Committee of which almost one third of the members were unelected Senators.' Among the eleven elected members of the Committee the interests of the Canadian defence establishment were obviously well represented. John Richardson (Lib) had served many years in the Canadian Regular Army and Militia and, with the rank of Brigadier-General, had served as the Commander of the Central Militia Area (1986-88) and the Chief of Staff (Reserves) at Land Forces Command (199091). Fred Mifflin (Lib) was a retired Rear Admiral and had been the Parliamentary Secretary for National Defence since December of 1993. The Air Force was represented by Jack Frazer (Reform), a retired fighter pilot, who had served for 36 years in the Canadian military and had received the Order of Military Merit in 1978 and the Meritorious Service Cross in 1986. Of the remaining eight members from the House, two represented ridings which contained large military bases, while two others had been commissioned officers within

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the Canadian Forces at some point in their careers.' Only one woman, Bonnie Hickey (Lib), served on the Committee. While the Joint Defence Committee clearly benefited from the wealth of military experience its members brought to the table, it is not clear how far this experience was applicable to the development of Canada's first post-Cold War defence policy. In the absence of New Democratic Party participation, the Canadian left appeared to be completely unrepresented on the Committee. The views of those who sought to challenge the fundamental principles of Canadian security which had dominated the country's defence policy since the Second World War were only to be heard during the public consultative process. Not a single member of the Committee seemed to be well positioned to represent these interests on the Committee itself. In addition to the questionable composition of the Joint Defence Committee, guidance provided to the Committee by the Minister of National Defence made it quite clear that there were boundaries to the review process. The Minister emphasized the continuity that had existed in Canadian defence policy over the years and recommended that the Committee focus its work on a review of the "existing missions and structures," related to the requirements of protecting Canadian sovereignty, working with the United States to defend North America, and participating in United Nations and other multilateral operations.' Beyond the conceptual parameters suggested by ministerial guidance, questions remained about the nature of the relationship between the defence review and the concurrent review of Canada's foreign policy If the end of the Cold War suggests anything about the trajectory of international relations, it is that military power has become simply one of many determinants of national security. Population growth and migration, poverty, environmental destruction, disease, nationalism and ethnic conflict all represent significant direct and indirect security threats which must be addressed through a broad range of national and international policy instruments. This would suggest that resources formerly allocated to the Canadian military might be redistributed to other programs aimed at treating some of the more fundamental sources of insecurity, such as environmental scarcity, poverty and political instability"

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Unfortunately, the defence and foreign policy reviews proceeded largely in isolation from one another. Any analysis of Canada's broader security concerns that might emerge from the foreign policy review would not be available to guide the work of the Joint Defence Committee. In the absence of such guidance, the Committee would not be compelled to move from the status quo emphasis on finding military forces to deal with the symptoms of security problems to a broader focus on the resources needed to treat the underlying sources of security problems.This initial failure to remove the existing barriers between defence and foreign policy would lead to further difficulties during a consultative process which, while advertised as open-ended, was clearly subject to constraints. TERRAINS OF DEBATE

The Joint Defence Committee began its formal consultations with Canadians in March 1994. Over the next seven months it would hear more than 275 witnesses and receive over 300 written submissions from individuals and groups as diverse as the Canadian Airborne Forces Association and the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom.' The Committee travelled across Canada and as far away as Bosnia to collect information and make its members accessible to all Canadians. It also visited the United Nations, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the North American Aerospace Defence Command (NORAD) headquarters, and it consulted with members of Canada's allied defence establishments in Washington and throughout Europe. The work of the Committee was ground-breaking in two important respects. It was to be the first fundamental review of defence policy ever conducted by Parliament. It was also the initial attempt to construct a public policy consensus capable of supporting Canada's first post-Cold War defence policy. While the Cold War made the world an incredibly dangerous place, its stark logic clearly identified allies, enemies, and territories to be defended. The relentless pace of competitive East-West militarytechnological innovation provided an equally clear strategic rationale for force structure development and weapons acquisition. Thus, for over forty years Canadian defence policy was supported by a relatively

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stable public policy consensus which held that Canadian security could best be served by supporting Euro-Atlantic security through collective efforts within NATO, NORAD, and a United Nations motivated by the concern that regional conflicts might become superpower confrontations.' The complexities and contradictions of the post-Cold War world have consistently frustrated efforts to detect a new geopolitical logic which could replace Cold War certainties. It did not take long for George Bush's 'New World Order' to become an ironic counterpoint to what many argued was really a 'New World dis-Order'. Once it began its hearings, the Joint Defence Committee quickly realized that almost all Canadians shared the belief that the world had entered a period of profound change. However, while this perception served as the starting point for the majority of presentations to the Committee, it also proved to be a point of departure for different destinations. Defence officials, serving and retired military personnel, military and foreign policy experts, and representatives from defence industries all tended to argue that the 'New World dis-Order' indeed made the world an unstable and very dangerous place in which any one "of a dozen conflicts might blow up into a major crisis," possibly requiring Canadian participation in multilateral military intervention operations.' Pointing to ethnic conflicts, instability within the former Soviet Union and the proliferation of military technology and weapons of mass destruction, these groups generally supported the view that Canada should retain general purpose combat-capable military forces. Such forces would be able to meet worst-case situations of high-intensity conflict, while also being capable of performing missions in lower-intensity conflict situations such as peacekeeping missions." While a minority felt that Canada's contributions to multilateral peacekeeping operations were entirely discretionary, the majority of these groups and individuals acknowledged the special relevance of Canada's international military activism to its interest in maintaining respect for international law and the peaceful resolution of conflicts!' Several witnesses also expressed the belief that Canada's influence within the multilateral institutions upon which it depends would be diminished if it refused to shoulder its fair share of the burden of collective security obligations."

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Peace groups, some independent analysts and certain non-governmental organizations involved in providing humanitarian assistance tended to agree that the post-Cold War world was an unstable place. However, they argued that this instability highlighted the need for defence policies based upon a wider conception of security that would consider "economic, social, environmental and other factors as fundamental in maintaining peace and order in the world."18 This approach would recognize that Canada's annual "security budget" actually includes money spent on national defence, official development assistance (ODA) and foreign affairs. Noting that this budget represented a five to one allocation ratio between defence and international assistance, these groups argued for a reallocation of spending which would reduce the ratio to two to one. The switch would allow Canada to double its development assistance while cutting defence spending to about $7.6 billion in 1994 dollars.' Within a smaller Canadian military, numbering about 55,000 in personnel, these groups advocated that there should be maintained a core peacekeeping capability which could sustain a maximum commitment of 3,000 personnel at any time. Budgetary restrictions would mean the elimination of CF-18 squadrons, reductions in the number of frigates and destroyers, and the elimination of the army's expeditionary brigade group with its associated heavy weaponry.' Between these two positions, some individuals and groups, such as the Canada 21 Council, saw merit in significantly increasing Canada's level of commitment to common security missions undertaken through the United Nations. These witnesses argued that the current trajectory of Canadian defence policy would have the effect of providing Canada with a "miniature" general purpose force with "a little of everything, but not enough of anything to be effective in any conceivable situation?'-1 The Council therefore recommended a dramatic reduction in Cold War weaponry, functions and units, designed for high-intensity combat, in order that resources might be reallocated for the purpose of doubling Canada's 20,425 soldier army, which provides the bulk of Canada's contribution to United Nations peacekeeping operations.' While the Council noted that peacebuilding required the integration of humanitarian relief, community building and peacekeeping, it felt that Canada's best contributions would be

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the provision of "preventative diplomacy, logistical, technical and traditional peacekeeping skills:'" THE CONSTRUCTION OF CONSENSUS

Having consulted with Canadians throughout the spring and summer, the Joint Defence Committee, in September, began the process of drafting its report. Parallelling the approach usually taken by defence White Papers, the report begins with an assessment of the strategic environment within which Canada's new defence policy will operate. Here the Committee was, initially at least, on relatively safe ground, as it faithfully reported that most Canadians believed the post-Cold War world to be an unstable and uncertain place. However, to this general consensus it attached the questionable assertion that "the world is in many ways a more dangerous place than it has been for the past 40 years:"-4 Dangerous to Canada? What could be more dangerous than a superpower nuclear exchange? The vast majority of witnesses before the Committee agreed that no direct military threats to Canada currently exist. What, then, are the sources of this danger? Although Security in a Changing World attempts to list the characteristics of the "New World dis-Order," its enumeration fails to support the linkages made by the Joint Defence Committee between greater uncertainty and a supposedly more dangerous world facing Canadians. Of the seven factors which the Committee cites as contributing to global instability, only two can be understood as sources of potential direct military threats to Canadian interests abroad: "growing regional and ethnic conflicts" and "the proliferation of military technology and weapons of mass destruction."' The first of these two claims is highly contestable. Recent research suggests that the severity and frequency of regional and ethnic conflicts has actually declined since the end of the Cold War.' And, while the second claim may be accurate, it hardly supports the assertion that the world is a more dangerous place than it was when under the threat of nuclear war. Overall, the impression is given that the Joint Defence Committee equated change itself with danger, regardless of the complexity of its origins or the context within which it operates. Although the

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Committee noted within its "Major Findings" that the concept of security is changing to "reflect political, economic, social, environmental and even cultural factors," it did so only under political pressure in the final days of its work." This suggests that members of the Committee experienced difficulty in understanding—or perhaps understood quite clearly—the implications of attempting to base defence policy upon a more sophisticated understanding of the socio-economic forces at play in the post-Cold War world. Whereas an unfocused sense of danger tends to support the belief that military force may be needed sometime soon, an analysis of the specific causes of conflict suggests that security dollars might be better spent on addressing those causes before they become military problems. The voices of those who dared to suggest that portions of defence spending be redirected to a broader security policy approach rapidly became unintelligible within a strategic framework dominated by perceived danger related to instability and uncertainty. These contestable judgements about the strategic environment quickly become unproblematic planning assumptions when Security in a Changing World asserts that Canadian defence policy should be based upon preparations for "instability because instability in the world inevitably will affect Canadians and their interests."' In what appears to be a contradiction of its earlier assertion that the world had become a more dangerous place, the Joint Defence Committee argues that "it is folly to base defence policy on the assumption that because the present appears comparatively safe, so too will the future' In any case, the Committee concluded that the only prudent and responsible course for Canadian defence policy was to maintain an adaptable, flexible and combat-capable navy, army and air force. Having decided to support the status quo, the Joint Defence Committee tackled the task of finding resources to bridge capability-commitment gaps opened by Canada's increased levels of participation in peacekeeping operations. Some of the solutions to these problems were obvious to the Committee as well as the public. The "top-heavy" nature of Canada's military establishment had been an object of criticism for some time.' It was fairly clear to most members of the Committee why a military establishment of approximately 74,000 personnel would have such difficulty sustaining an operational

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commitment to the United Nations of less than 3,000 of its members. Security in a Changing World recommended reducing the number of Canadian Forces headquarters units by one third and the number of headquarters personnel by 50 percent or approximately 4,000 positions.3' Finding resources for peacekeeping operations made good political as well as strategic sense to the Joint Defence Committee. Clearly, Canadians were proud of their contributions to United Nations missions over the years. The Liberal Party had made peacekeeping the central focus of its defence policy platform during the election. Moreover, the Gulf War and the United Nations blockade in the Adriatic had effectively expanded the types of forces nations could contribute to multilateral security operations.The Committee called upon the Navy to provide an expeditionary capability of up to three frigates, one destroyer and one operational support ship for such operations. The Air Force was asked to provide and sustain indefinitely a fighter squadron of CF-18 aircraft. The Army was promised a priority purchase of modern armoured personnel carriers and an increase of 3,500 combat personnel to improve its capability for sustaining and protecting Canadian forces stationed overseas.' This personnel increase would be in addition to the 2,000 extra soldiers authorized by the 1993 federal budget. Overall, the 'internationalist' focus of Security in a Changing World was used to provide justification for the maintenance of most of Canada's military capabilities. The only painful trade-off occurred in the final days of the Committee's work, as it became clear that Defence would not be immune to the impending budgetary crunch. Thus, the Committee recommended that the Canadian Forces reduce its CF-18 fleet by a minimum of 25 percent in order to free up resources and meet Federal targets for budgetary reductions." THE DEFENCE WHITE PAPER

While Security in a Changing World invited the Government to consider Parliament's views on defence policy carefully, the Minister of National Defence released the 1994 Defence White Paper barely one month after Parliament tabled its report. A parallel policy process

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within the Defence bureaucracy clearly existed throughout the defence review, raising a number of questions about the integrity of the parliamentary process. Questions must be asked about the degree to which Security in a Changing World and the Canadian public's reaction to its conclusions actually influenced the final drafting of the White Paper within the four week period between the release of the first report and that of the second. The timing of the foreign policy review process raises similar concerns about the relationship between Parliament and the Defence bureaucracy. The report of the Special Joint Committee reviewing Canadian foreign policy, Canada's Foreign Policy, was released two weeks after Security in a Changing World, and two weeks prior to the 1994 Defence White Paper. Thus, it would appear as though the Minister of National Defence produced a defence White Paper without the benefit of either parliamentary or governmental guidance on the overall direction of Canadian foreign policy. Indeed, Reform Party members on the foreign policy review committee claim that there was simply "no coordination" between the two reviews.' This lack of basic policy coordination tends to undermine the analytical content of these reviews as well their credibility as conduits for Canadian public opinion on foreign and defence policy. For example, in comparing $27 million in aid to $350 million in peacekeeping costs for Somalia, Canada's Foreign Policy acknowledges the need to adopt a broader concept of security "encompassing both military and non-military factors," and makes the case that "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure' Unfortunately, neither report suggests that the funds to purchase even an additional gram's worth of prevention can be found anywhere within Canada's foreign policy or defence budgets. The foreign policy review recommends that Canada abandon its pledge to spend 0.7 percent of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) on ODA and attempt instead to stabilize this spending at its current level of about 0.4 percent of GDP.36 The 1994 Defence White Paper ignores entirely the issue of an expanded notion of security. Despite the emergence of a relatively clear public and parliamentary voice on this issue, an expanded conception of security has yet to find a concrete existence in public policy.

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On the other hand, there is overall a high degree of consistency between Security in a Changing World and the 1994 Defence White Paper.The latter document reproduces the notion of a dangerous and unstable world contained within Security in a Changing World and uses it to justify the maintenance of"multi-purpose, combat-capable" military forces, able to fight "alongside the best, against the best."' While both documents highlight the dramatic changes reshaping the international security environment, neither suggests that these changes will require fundamental alterations in the posture of Canada's military force. With the exception of last minute recommendations to reduce Canada's expensive CF-18 fleet, both documents faithfully reflect a defence establishment consensus that Canada should retain approximately the same capital equipment, fleet mix and range of combat capabilities that it possessed at the end of the Cold War. There are significant risks in this approach. Both Security in a Changing World and the 1994 Defence White Paper fail to question the degree to which a force structure created to meet Cold War threats might be unsuitable for the security challenges of a post-Cold War world. The Cold War has left Canada with a capitalintensive military, heavily influenced by the demands of maintaining a relatively small number of high-technology weapons systems. In fact, it can be argued that the Canadian military has experienced a form of unilateral structural disarmament. A long-term trend towards the purchase of progressively more sophisticated and expensive weapons systems has resulted in a dramatic reduction in the variety and actual size of individual weapons fleets. Moreover, the commitment to purchase complex capital equipment has also carried with it direct personnel costs. The development, acquisition and life-cycle management of such equipment has created a large project management bureaucracy within the Defence Department. In order to retain personnel capable of operating and maintaining sophisticated weapons systems, Canada's military is highly paid and supported by elaborate training and personnel management systems which demand significant Departmental resources to perform non-operational functions.The fact that a force of some 74,000 has significant difficulties in properly equipping and sustaining an operational commitment to the United Nations of less than 3,000 of its members, while retaining

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a capability to defend Canadian airspace against Soviet bombers that no longer threaten us, speaks volumes about the degree to which our military force structure is out of keeping with the post-Cold War security environment. Fundamental change within Canadian defence policy should begin with a recognition that the majority of post-Cold War security problems will not be solved by the application of capital intensive military force. The intervention of multilateral forces to meet humanitarian needs or mediate conflicts will be very labour intensive operations, based upon countless local negotiations and supported by diplomatic efforts at the international level. On the ground these types of operation will depend upon skilled personnel supported by small packets of relatively unsophisticated capital equipment such as armoured vehicles, communications equipment and land, sea and air logistical support platforms. Once these basic capital requirements have been met, military personnel will be able to perform a wide variety of humanitarian, peacekeeping and related tasks, including the provision of support to the work of various non-governmental organizations. Unfortunately, fundamental changes in force structure tend to be quite difficult to make within a capital intensive military. Capital equipment tends to create deep vested interests within the various military services as well as within sectors of the Canadian economy which build and/or support the equipment. Technology policy, regional development, political "pork-barrelling," joint-defence production arrangements and export considerations all tend to favour the maintenance of a capital intensive military which offers something more tangible to the Canadian economy than "national security." However, in the face of fiscal constraints and new security challenges, changes in force structure will be essential. The 1994 Defence White Paper politely ignores the Joint Defence Committee's warning that a multi-purpose combat-capable force cannot be maintained at levels of defence spending much lower than those currently in place. While the precise course of defence spending will be determined by the Government's budgetary priorities the Minister has promised even deeper spending cuts, including a reduction in capital equipment acquisitions, amounting to $15 billion

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over fifteen years.' To the surprise of some, the 1994 Defence White Paper also projects deeper personnel cuts, with the Regular Forces being reduced to 60,000 and the Primary Reserve to 23,000." While the Army was promised an additional 3,000 soldiers for its field force, this will only replace a portion of the personnel already lost through cuts imposed on the entire Canadian Forces over the past five years. In short, in attempting to retain the same range of combat capabilities with fewer resources and personnel, the 1994 Defence White Paper risks producing the kind of military which the Canada 21 Council had warned about - a miniature force which has a little of everything, but not enough of any one capability to make a difference to any multilateral effort Canada would wish to support. CONCLUSION

While the 1994 defence review began as an attempt to democratize the process of defence policy formulation, it quickly became an exercise in the construction of a new policy consensus supporting the status quo. To replace the Soviet threat which structured Canadian defence policy for decades, we now have the dangers of the "New World dis-Order." While our defence policy has become quite internationalist in orientation, our defence force structure remains essentially the same—simply smaller. The difficult choices that the end of the Cold War might imply for our military have generally been avoided. Why did Parliament sidestep the difficult questions about force structure and expanded conceptions of security raised by the Canadian public during the Joint Defence Committee's hearings? The faulty logic in the argument that Parliament is the most appropriate forum for the discussion and formulation of defence policy is perhaps best illustrated by the Joint Defence Committee's recommendation that Parliament establish "an annual day of debate on defence policy"" The fact that there is currently so little Parliamentary oversight of defence policy that a single day of debate would be considered something worth recommending should be a cause of great concern for all Canadians. Parliament simply does not seem very interested in defence policy. As the 1994 defence review indicates, when Parliament has actively involved itself in defence

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policy formation its capacity to represent the interests of all Canadians has been relatively limited. Its mechanisms for selecting committee members were clearly weighted in favour of defence establishment interests. Potentially dissenting voices from the New Democratic Party were not included on the Committee. The irony of excluding democratically elected members of Parliament who lacked official party status, while including appointed senators, appeared to be lost on the Committee. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, when confronted with an internal disagreement, the Committee failed to work towards a consensus position. The proliferation of dissenting reports in the defence and foreign policy reviews process calls into question the willingness of the government's MPs to seek compromises which better represent the views of all Canadians." It is, however, difficult to imagine a democratic defence policy process which does not include Parliament. How then can Parliament be encouraged to take more seriously its responsibilities to ensure democratic oversight of defence matters? A well-informed public certainly has a role to play in holding Parliament accountable for defence policy. Independent scholarship and active peace organizations also provide sources of pressure on Parliament, while supplying the general public with alternative thinking on defence policy In this respect, the elimination of the Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security (CAPS) by the Mulroney government in 1992 stands as a significant defeat for independent thinking on defence matters in Canada, and it must be reversed. As the demise of CIIPS indicates, ultimately it is the government of the day which determines the extent to which Canadians are actually consulted about defence policy and provided with the resources to develop their views on the subject. Canada has never enjoyed a significant tradition of independent security policy research similar to that found in American think tanks.Therefore, the genuine democratization of the Canadian defence policy process would appear to require independent research, combined with a willingness on the part of Parliament to actually listen to what Canadian have to say.

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NOTES 1 Lloyd Axworthy, "Canadian Foreign Policy: A Liberal Party Perspective," Canadian Foreign Policy 1, no. 1 (Winter 1992/93), 14. 2 Department of National Defence, Review of Canadian Defence Policy: Minister of National Defence Guidance Document, Ottawa, February 1994. 3 Senate and House of Commons, Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the Special Joint Committee of the Senate and House of Commons on Canada's Defence Policy (hereafter termed Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy), no. 1, Ottawa, February 24, 1994, 3. 4 Senate and House of Commons, The Report of the Special Joint Committee on Canada's Defence Policy, Security in a Changing World (hereafter termed Security), Ottawa, 1994, 1. 5 Kim Richard Nossal, drawing upon Cecil Crabb and Pat Holt, identifies the constitutionally enshrined "invitation to struggle," addressed to the executive and the legislature, as one of the key sources of democratic debate within American politics. Kim Richard Nossal, "The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy," Canadian Foreign Policy 1, no. 3 (Fall 1993), 100. See also Cecil V. Crabb and Pat M. Holt, Invitation to Struggle: Congress, the President, and Foreign Policy, 4th ed., (Washington D.C.: Congressional Quarterly Press, 1992). 6 Nossal, Democratization, 100. 7

Ibid.

8 "Dissenting Report by the Bloc Quebecois Members of the Special Joint Committee on Canada's Defence Policy," Security, 69. 9 Canada, Canadian Parliamentary Guide, (Toronto: Globe and Mail Publishing, 1994). 10 National Defence, Review, 2-6. 11 For a discussion of the linkages between environmental scarcity and its security implications see Thomas Homer-Dixon, "Environmental Scarcity and Intergroup Conflict," in Michael Klare and Daniel Thomas, World Security: Challenges for a New Century, (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1994), 290-313. 12

Security, 1. For a complete list of witnesses and submissions received see Security - Appendices.

13 See for example, Allen G. Sens, "Canadian Defence Policy After the Cold War: Old Dimensions and New Realities," Canadian Foreign Policy 1, no. 3 (Fall 1993), 9-11.

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14 Jack Granatstein (York University), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 2, April 19, 1994, 9. While the direct quotations used here are drawn from Professor Granatstein's comments to the Defence Committee, the text as a whole is my summary of the views provided by these groups. 15 General John de Chastelain (Chief of Defence Staff), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 1, March 16, 1994, 22. 16 The minority view was expressed by Professor Joel Sokolsky (Royal Military College of Canada), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 7, May 3, 1994, 26. 17 See, for example, Lieutenant-Colonel (Ret.) Ernest Wesson (Conference of Defence Associations), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 3, April 20, 1994, 31-3. 18 John W. Foster, (National Secretary, OXFAM-Canada), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 15, June 2, 1994, 7. 19 Betty Plewes (President and Chief Executive Officer, Canadian Council for International Cooperation), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 15, June 2, 1994, 11. 20 Bill Robinson (Project Ploughshares), Minutes on Canada's Defence Policy, no. 6, April 28, 1994, 53-53. 21 The Canada 21 Council, Canada and Common Security in the TwentyFirst Century, (Montreal: Masse Communications Inc, 1994), 62. The Canada 21 Council describes itself as being comprised of "prominent Canadians from the fields of business, diplomacy, military affairs and university research." 22 Canada and Common Security, 84. 23 24 25

Aid., 57. Security, 5. Ibid. 26 See for example, Ted Robert Gurr, "Peoples Against States: Ethnopolitical Conflict and the Changing World System," International Studies Quarterly 38, no. 3 (September 1994), 347-77. 27 Information on the Committee's reluctance to consider broader concepts of security was obtained during a private interview. 28 Security, 17. 29 Ibid., 20. 30 For example, April Lindgren, "Defence Brass Keep Forces Heavy on Top," Ottawa Citizen, September 18, 1993, 1.

LAWSON 117 31 Security, 35. 32 Ibid., 39-40. 33 Private interview. 34 Special Joint Committee of the Senate and of the House of Commons Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices, Ottawa, November 1994, 31. Attempts to develop a more coordinated approach to the two review processes failed in the face of resistance from both committees. Private Interview. 35 Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future, Ottawa, November 1994, 12. 36 Ibid., 57-8. 37 The Department of National Defence, 1994 Defence White Paper, Ottawa, December 1994, 14. 38 National Defence, 1994 Defence White Paper, 41. 39 Ibid., 45. 40 Security, 57. 41 For example, the Bloc Quebecois issued a dissenting report within the defence review, and both the Bloc and the Reform party issued dissenting reports in the foreign policy review.

VII Canadian Foreign Policy and Quebec

GORDON MACE, LOUIS BELANGER & IVAN BERNIER

Prior to the 1970s, foreign policy was not the public policy sector most suitable for the study of domestic forces and their impact on the decision-making process. Almond has shown that domestic United States public opinion was more preoccupied by local events than by foreign affairs except, of course, in times of international crisis.' Similarly, in Canada scholars noted the limited impact of public opinion, the media, and even Parliament on the formulation and conduct of Canadian foreign policy.' Things have changed considerably in the past ten or fifteen years. Fast-paced development of information technologies, along with the ever-increasing globalization of the world economy, have brought the world to our doorsteps and into our living rooms. Interest in events occurring in foreign lands has surged at the same time as a

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growing consciousness has developed that more and more domestic problems have been the result of external forces. All this naturally influences the context of Canadian foreign policy making, and has encouraged societal actors to become involved in the decision-making processes. The emergence and impact of civil society in the foreign policy process in Canada is a phenomenon now underscored by most analysts' In this context, it is somewhat surprising to see how provincial governments have been mostly left out of the process of democratizating Canadian foreign policy, particularly in view of the importance of the larger provinces' international activities over the past twenty-five years.' In the light of Canada's shrinking position in the world economy and in the world system in general, one would have thought that the times demand greater input into the management of Canadian foreign policy. But, as usual, power plays and constitutional prerogatives are more important to Canadian decision makers than efficiency and the welfare of Canadian citizens. Provincial governments have not been present in the formulation and management of past foreign policy There were exceptions in areas like international trade and human rights, where ad hoc and sometimes permanent committees were established in order to coordinate federal and provincial positions on these matters.' Apart from collaboration between federal and provincial offices in the United States with regard to trade promotion,' there is little evidence that provincial governments were involved in the regular, day-to-day conduct of Canadian foreign policy over the last decades.The recent success of "Team Canada" in China may be a preview of things to come,' but it is certainly not representative of past behaviour in the field of federal-provincial cooperation in foreign affairs. What explains the minor role played by provincial governments in the formulation and management of Canadian foreign policy?' As Kim Nossal has rightly pointed out, the most significant explanation has to do with jurisdiction.' Most governments in Canada do in fact agree that foreign affairs fall under the jurisdiction of the federal government.This constitutional view is also reinforced by Ottawa's "classical view of foreign policy," in which "national security" writ large is the exclusive domain of the central government in Canada."

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Another explanation is to be found in the limited resources of provincial governments. In many cases the management of external relations has been conducted on an ad hoc basis by the Premier's office with the help of one or two civil servants." Finally the preeminence of the federal government in foreign affairs was probably due to the status of the Department of External Affairs which, as noted by Andrew Cohen,' was once considered the aristocracy of the federal public service. This aristocracy was not very receptive to intrusions by provincial civil servants or even by other federal agencies into its fiefdom. This chapter will attempt to deal with the particular case of Quebec as a domestic force in the conduct of Canadian foreign policy. It will focus on three problems. In the first part, why were Quebec governments often excluded, or why did they exclude themselves, from the foreign policy decision making process? The second problem is that of understanding Quebec's strategy in the field of external relations following the advent of a new Parti Quebecois government.The third part of the chapter explores scenarios for Canada in the aftermath of the Quebec referendum scheduled for 1995. Constructing such scenarios is, of course, a hazardous endeavour. FEDERAL-PROVINCIAL INTERPLAYS SINCE

1960

The relationship between Quebec and Ottawa in the realm of international relations parallels the relations which developed between Canada and Britain during the period from Confederation to the Statute of Westminster. In both instances, one witnesses two entities trying to assert themselves and develop an international personality based on the claim that they best express the will of their population.This fundamental fact is the real explanation of Quebec's peculiar status as a domestic actor in the Canadian foreign policy making process. The only remaining uncertainty now concerns the outcome of an evolution which started about thirty years ago. Quebec's behaviour in the Canadian foreign policy system can only be truly understood in the context of the subtle but relentless transformation of Quebec society from a community of French Canadians to one of Quebeckers. The term "Quiet Revolution" was

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coined as a way to represent an amazing period of fast and profound transformation of the political, economic and socio-cultural structures of Quebec society in the early 1960s." In the course of this transformation, the idea emerged that Quebec needed a "window on the world" in order to sustain, and at the same time to assert, the fundamental character of Quebec society. What was called later the "Quebec doctrine on international relations" was in fact first made public in 1965 by the then Minister of Education Paul Gerin-Lajoie." The main elements enunciated were incorporated into formal government documents published later, which served as the basis of Quebec's negotiating position during the constitutional conferences of the late 1960s and early 1970s." Essentially, the doctrine states that Quebec and other Canadian provinces have the right to intervene in international affairs on questions pertaining to provincial jurisdiction, including treaty-making power; the latter position is based on Quebec's interpretation of the Labour Conventions of 1937 and of the Letters Patent of 1947.16 But Gerin-Lajoie also made it clear that Quebec is not a province like the others: the Quebec state represents a distinct national community and must be able to represent it internationally on all matters related to this distinctiveness. The response of the federal government was stated explicitly in two major documents." In its view Ottawa, the central government, was the sole representative of the Canadian federation in foreign affairs and the only level of government entitled to sign treaties, appoint ambassadors, and speak for the country at international conferences. In this latter instance, the federal government admitted that provinces could participate in conferences dealing with matters related to provincial competence, but only as members of the Canadian delegation, on the model of Canada's participation in UNESCO conferences.' These opposing points of view could never be reconciled on the basis of legal interpretations of the Canadian Constitution. As is often the case with international legal norms, customary practice and precedents would be used to legitimize each government's position. That explains the nerve-racking period of 1968-1970, when there was great bickering between Quebec and the federal government

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over the place of Quebec in La Francophonie, and even over the flag to be flown at the conferences, a period that culminated in the grotesque episode of flag waving at Libreville. From this point on, the federal government as a whole, and the Department of External Affairs in particular, could not be anything but suspicious about Quebec's role in the foreign policy-making process, and could not be blamed for considering this provincial government as sometimes nothing more than a nuisance. But in the political context of the times, there was little that Ottawa could do to restrain Quebec's international activities. And in this connection, the 1970s constituted an important period of consolidation and enlargement of Quebec's capacity to act on the world scene, with the restructuring of the Department of Intergovernmental Affairs, the expansion of Quebec delegations (Brussels, Tokyo, Atlanta, Mexico City) and trade offices (Düsseldorf, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles), and the signing of numerous agreements with La Francophonie.19 The election of the Parti Quebecois in 1976 did not improve the situation, for this was a government whose main objective was the independence of Quebec and, consequently, the breakup of Canada. Naturally, this did not create a favourable climate for Quebec to act in any positive way as a domestic actor in the Canadian foreign policy system. On the contrary, the years leading to the 1980 referendum constituted a period during which every move of the Quebec government linked to international relations was closely monitored by Ottawa.' However, there were no overreactions by either party as had been the case in the late 1960s. The results of the referendum, the election of the Conservative Party in Ottawa and of the Liberal Party in Quebec, all contributed to a climate of "detente" in the Ottawa-Quebec relationship. The desire on both sides to try to find a solution to the constitutional impasse also affected external relations, with the 1985 agreement stating the modalities for Quebec's participation in the Summits of La Francophonie.' This agreement set the tone for the remaining years of Conservative rule in Ottawa and established a modus vivendi according to which the federal government recognized the right of Quebec and the other provinces to be involved in international affairs in domains of provincial jurisdiction, provided that this was done within

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a federal framework. Quebec, for its part, accepted the arrangement and managed the international activities of the province by adopting a low profile and developing a business-minded approach. This, however, does not imply that Quebec became less active in terms of international affairs. On the contrary, the government maintained the same rhythm of activities by signing agreements, participating in international conferences, and sending trade missions abroad. At a time when Ontario was closing all its offices and delegations abroad, Quebec was announcing a transformation of the Tokyo and Dusseldorf delegations into general delegations, while at the same time upgrading the offices in Atlanta, Caracas, Bogota, Singapore and Stockholm to the status of delegations.' As can be seen, careful examination of Quebec's international activities over the past thirty years reveals a pattern according to which the conduct of external relations has become an integral part of the normal functioning of government, whatever the ideology of the party in power.This probably explains why provincial governments in Quebec never strongly felt a need to act as a significant domestic force in the Canadian foreign policy making process. The Quebec government did intervene, as we have seen, in certain issue areas, but generally it seems to have preferred relying on its own resources in the pursuit of its objectives, rather than on the federal government. The recent election of the Parti Quebecois, following a return to power of the Liberals in Ottawa, along with the rise of the Bloc Quebecois as official opposition, introduces radical changes in the modus operandi underlying the conduct of external relations in Canada since 1985. The next section of this chapter assesses the strategies of Quebec during the period leading to the upcoming referendum. BACK TO THE FUTURE OR RETURN TO THE NATION-STATE: THE INTERNATIONAL STRATEGY OF THE NEW QUEBEC PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT

In his first attempt to define the basis of his new government's external policy, Vice-Premier and International Affairs Minister Bernard Landry spent considerable time describing what he sees as one of the fundamental aspects of today's international scene: the evolving but

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enduring role played by the nation-state. With some noteworthy exceptions, Landry said, nationalism no longer finds its roots in ethnicity but rather expresses, as is alleged to be the case in Quebec, an elective allegiance to a polity conceived of as a collective political project. Thus, the nation-state should be considered the privileged milieu of contemporary democratic life: Only the nation-state is able to integrate peoples, to build a polity, to create citizenship. In doing so, the nation asserts itself as the site where democracy is exercised, where social relations and arbitrations take place, where the citizen is more likely to take part in decisions he or she is concerned with, even if he or she is, in other respects, linked to multiple networks based on linguistic, religious, racial or cultural affinity." Obviously this description supports one of the provincial government's strategies concerning sovereignty: the neutralization of all perceptions of a link between Quebec nationalism and the recent secessionist movements in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. The present government must create a clear distinction between the Quebec situation and other ethnic separatist movements which have lately become enmeshed in violent conflict. Beyond the calculated strategy of seeking international recognition for an independent Quebec, the government calls for a return to the "Quiet Revolution's" concept of Quebec's international role, in which the state is the only legitimate spokesperson for the people of Quebec outside its frontiers.'-` In this renewed approach, citizen allegiance (a more neutral and much more popular concept) replaces cultural identity, but the essence of the policy remains untouched. Whereas the 1991 external policy of the provincial Liberal government tried to remove all political content from Quebec's international activities, and preferred to associate them with those of the other provincial governments," Minister Landry has repeated that the Pequiste government intends to revive Quebec's diplomacy from the doldrums into which it fell during the last Liberal mandate. Whatever the referendum results, the provincial government, in keeping with the actions of previous governments since the 1960s,

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will act as the main spokesperson for the people of Quebec and the defender of their specific interests in the international arena. This could mean implicating the government in international political matters that closely concern Quebeckers. For example, on the occasion of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide's return to Haiti, Jacques Parizeau, "expressing himself in the name of the People and the Government of Quebec," sent a message of support to the Chief of State in which he underlined the "multiple and deep relationships that unite both nations as well as their common participation in the international Francophonie."26 Likewise, the government appointed Dr. Rejean Thomas, a defeated election candidate, well known for his role in AIDS prevention campaigns, as a special adviser on international humanitarian aid. His mandate is to co-ordinate Quebec's international humanitarian actions. More recently the government announced its intention to table a bill in the National Assembly under the terms of which Quebec would adhere to the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) and the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) on matters related to its constitutional prerogatives. Developing Quebec's international personality also means trying to establish direct contacts with foreign governments. Minister Landry made an official trip to Paris where he met with Prime Minister Edouard Balladur, Foreign Affairs Minister Alain Juppe and Jacques Toubon, Minister for Cultural Affairs and La Francophonie. Premier Parizeau paid a visit to France in January, 1995 which included a meeting with President Francois Mitterrand. Furthermore, Minister Landry protested against the tendency of External Affairs in Ottawa to omit Quebec from planned itineraries of foreign dignitaries visiting Canada, thus depriving the Quebec government of opportunities to establish direct relations. However, the search for international contacts will not be pursued regardless of consequences. Officials will take special care to avoid situations where close federal surveillance would prevent the Premier or his ministers from representing Quebec with dignity.This explains Quebec's refusal to participate in Team Canada, the Canadian-organized Asian trip. On that occasion, Minister Landry insisted that the provincial premiers would be reduced to following the federal

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limousines in mini-vans.' Likewise, Parizeau will delay visiting Washington because of the Canadian Ambassador's steadfast attitude (supported by the State Department) with regard to federal precedence in all relations with American political authorities.' If federal actions might seem to be a return to old times or business as usual, the pre-referendum context gives them new national and international significance. This circumstance might complicate Quebec's action plan. In fact, in pursuing its strategy, Quebec will have to deal both with Ottawa's attitude and with the different levels of receptiveness of foreign governments. In the first case, it is foreseeable that, as in the Trudeau years, Foreign Affairs will use its powers and foreign influence to limit the scope and range of Quebec's diplomacy. One might doubt, however, that Ottawa will go so far as to openly engage in actions aimed at curtailing Quebec's international activities, including the privileged relationship with the French government.The keynote is "status quo."The present federal government, like most Canadian governments that have tried to maintain a foreign policy distinct from that of the United States,' has a favourable image in Paris. Ottawa will surely use this advantage to thwart any special Quebec initiative. The American arena, for its part, will most likely be the best place to demonstrate federal determination. Anne Legare, the newly appointed chief of Quebec's Washington office (officially a tourist information office) openly admitted that she intended to give it a definite political orientation." Now it is common knowledge that Ottawa's attitude towards provincial representatives in Washington has been unequivocal and firm: no provincial political adviser can reside, even on a temporary basis, in the American capital nor can they visit Washington regularly.31 Nevertheless, Jacques Parizeau's new advisor, the ex-journalist Jean-Francois Lisee, has expressed in the past the opinion that it would be easy for Quebec to informally enlarge the scope of its political action in Washington simply by getting rid of its timidity in face of the American giant." The imminence of the referendum will most likely make foreign actors more cautious towards Quebec. Aware of this particular situation, they will not always act as if it were "business as usual." Quebec, in an effort to prevent unwanted incidents, will probably keep a lower

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profile than expected. Claude Morin clearly demonstrated that even an unsolicited opinion, expressed by a foreign dignitary and interpreted as support for the government's project, could be perceived by the public as an inappropriate intrusion into an internal debate." For these reasons, Quebec's official international relations will be relatively intense during the first months of the Parti Quebecois (PQ) mandate, and then diminish as the referendum debate progresses. Until then, the government—with the close collaboration of the Bloc Quebecois—will closely monitor Ottawa's activities and prepare for Quebec's international recognition behind the scenes. It will therefore be difficult in 1995 for Quebec to establish high level contacts with foreign governments. A critical problem for Quebec government officials is that of deciding how to deal simultaneously with the referendum and the strategies for gaining international recognition.Whereas the 1980 referendum was limited to giving a mandate for negotiating sovereignty which would then be ratified in a subsequent referendum, the 1995 referendum is intended to directly address the question of political sovereignty. In the first case it was easier to have a low profile on the international scene because the quest for international recognition could be postponed until after a victory in the first referendum. Today, the situation is more complex. Off hand, we could easily imagine a twofold and simultaneous international strategy. The first component would be an open and public strategy, aimed at Quebec public opinion.This strategy would seek to maximize the benefits of Quebec's conventional international activities while taking care not to involve foreign parties in the Canadian political debate. Such an involvement, as was mentioned above, could backfire against the Quebec government. The second component, more discreet and this time aimed at foreign officials, would seek to maximize their eventual support in an international recognition process. However, this twofold strategy is more difficult and dangerous to implement than one might suppose. The Parti Quebecois strategists, for their part, have embraced the idea of stretching out the process of international recognition over a relatively long period following the referendum. They believe that this period would allow them sufficient time to plan the recognition

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process with their political allies. Nevertheless, because of the impact which the first official reactions will have on subsequent events after a victory at the referendum, Quebec cannot afford to stay away from the international scene. The present government's strategy seems to be centred on the belief that recognition will come from a series of individual decisions, in spite of the fact that the most recent experience in this area, following the dismemberment of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, indicates that decisions are taken on a collective and regional basis. Special attention is being given to the following key actors in this process: Washington, Paris, Brussels—seat of the European Community (EC)—Berlin, Tokyo. It is only in Berlin that Quebec has no delegation or office, the pied-a-terre being in Düsseldorf. This situation could nevertheless be rectified. In all these locations, the government has already appointed or will soon be appointing its most dependable representatives. The government avoids open discussion of its intended foreign policy for an independent Quebec in order not to alienate potential supporters. It is already limiting itself to taking conservative and reassuring positions. Bernard Landry, in his aforementioned speech, summed up the government's position on international questions: it stands for reform of multilateral institutions, for strengthening of international law, for liberalization of international trade, for integration of the social and cultural needs of societies, and for the respect of democratically expressed identity needs.' As reflected in the dissenting report signed by the Bloc Quebecois member of the Parliamentary Committee reviewing Canada's foreign policy,' the Bloc will try to defend a more democratic and, in a sense, "liberal" foreign policy The dissenting report criticizes the lack of democratic concerns both in the content and the elaboration of Canadian foreign policy; it pushes for a reorientation of the military in order to focus on peacekeeping; it proposes international assistance and asks the Canadian government to accept the reality of Canadian integration into the North American economy. The prime element in the pre-referendum policy of preparing for international recognition is the deliberate disociation of the Quebec case from other recent international recognition initiatives which have, in the international community's view, turned sour. In short,

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this means that the Pequiste strategists believe that it is possible, in due time, to convince the international community to evaluate the Quebec case on its own merits. They will do so by presenting the pre-referendum consultation and the referendum debate as models of how democratically Quebec society will behave when constituted as an independent state. Nevertheless, the government will most likely have to deal with more resistance than it expects because the international community has been left bitter by the most recent international recognition experiences. The international opinion is that recognition has often been delivered too rapidly, and that the new states were not asked to put forward the necessary guarantees for democracy and human rights. Quebec nationalism abroad, even if it is considered a peaceful movement, is nevertheless labelled, rightly or wrongly, as a manifestation of ethnic identity resurgence. Highlighting the democratic and pacific character of the undertaking might well turn out to be counterproductive for the PQ government. The interest of the international community is in maintaining the status quo; developing a favourable attitude towards the creation of a new state should be considered a solution of last resort, to be used only after all other peaceful solutions have failed. Since this is so, a democratic mandate is not only insufficient for obtaining international recognition, but may also be an indication that there still exists a basis on which the parties can work out a way to preserve national unity. This is reinforced by evidence of the vitality of democracy in Canada, including the presence of the Bloc Quebecois in the House of Commons. Kamal Shehadi, in a much cited essay on this subject published last year, enumerated the conditions leading to the recognition of a new state: In very limited cases the creation of a new state or the adjustment of international borders is recommended. The first criterion is irreconcilable differences: a history of persecution of a communal group and a likelihood that this persecution will continue. Some observers believe this to be a sufficient cause for accepting border changes. Second, that the leadership making the claim to self-determination has a democratic mandate. Third, that the border changes

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are a last resort because other options have been exhausted. Fourth, that the new borders and the new states will be stable: that they will be accepted by the concerned population and by the neighboring states." The United States, the country on which the sovereignists should concentrate their efforts, seems to have adopted this point of view. Not being as legalistic as the Europeans, the Americans accepted the dismemberment of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia only to the extent that Moscow itself did not offer any further opposition, and in the belief that this type of action could prevent a civil war.37 Hence, unless the Quebec government succeeds in convincing the Americans that an independent Quebec is an alternative to a potentially dangerous situation, which is far from evident, Quebec lobbying in Washington will be arduous without the backing of an unequivocal democratic mandate. France's position is not clear. Unlike Germany, France has demonstrated conservatism in recent years regarding international recognition. The French government also put forth a difficult diplomatic initiative with its proposal for a pact on stability in Europe. This proposal aims specifically at collectivizing and regionalizing the process of resolving frontier delimitation problems in Europe. Given the logic of this approach, it would be surprising if Paris took a unilateral stand in the case of Quebec. Certainly, France is the most likely country to consider the Quebec case separately from other international realities; nevertheless it will still have to deal with its partners' opinions and sensitivities. The main reason for Quebec's sovereignist strategy towards France was that it hoped to secure quick support from the French which would set off a more or less long, but irreversible, process of growing international recognition. However, the process of international recognition of a new state has become a collective affair and is always dependent on regional leadership. For example, the European states succeeded in acting as a collective with regard to the Yugoslav case, albeit with difficulty, after the United States agreed to let them manage the crisis on a regional basis. France, after having leaned so heavily on Germany to delay its recognition of Croatia and Slovenia, would find it very difficult to act alone on the Quebec question.The

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EC would most probably let the United States act as the leader in this

situation. Thus, even if France remains an important player and will probably be the arena for several referendum debates, it will not fulfil a strategic function in the post-referendum accession to independence. For this reason, it is understandable that Quebec will direct great effort at political, economic and media circles in the U.S. In summary, we can state that the PQ government's foreign policy will be determined by a combination of three strategic concerns. The first is a return to the traditional concept of Quebec's international status.The second is the referendum campaign, which will aim at stirring up nationalistic fervour while taking care to avoid internationally embarrassing situations. The third is related to the search for international recognition in the event of a referendum victory. Paris is central for the first two strategic issues, and Washington will be central to the third. These three strategies are not necessarily complementary, and Quebec decision makers will probably proceed with caution rather than risk mistakes. Within the framework of the referendum, whatever the results, each strategy will have tried to reassert that it is the Quebec state, and not the Canadian federation, that is the privileged instrument for expressing Quebec's democratic life and cultural identity on the international level. THE AFTERMATH OF THE REFERENDUM: CANADA WITH OR WITHOUT QUEBEC

Although it is generally admitted that the impending referendum in Quebec will play a crucial role in deciding Canada's fate as a unified country, it cannot be taken for granted that the result will automatically decide the matter. There is a growing perception outside Quebec that a close vote in favour of independence would not mean automatic decisive separation.' Even inside Quebec a poll realized in November 1994 showed that a clear majority of Quebeckers felt that a simple majority vote would not be sufficient." Therefore, in looking at Canada's foreign policy in the aftermath of the referendum, it is necessary to consider three distinct scenarios. The first, which is the one least likely to affect Canada's foreign policy, is that of a strong majority vote against Quebec independence.

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In this scenario, the Canadian government would probably want to dissipate the uncertainty outside Canada, engendered by the referendum, as quickly as possible. The result of the referendum would be presented as a confirmation of the fundamentally unified and democratic character of Canada, with the implication that the country was a safe and profitable place for foreign investors. The substance of Canada's foreign policy would remain what it was before the election of the Parti Quebecois and the referendum campaign. In this situation the Bloc Quebecois would have great difficulty, at least initially, in justifying its presence in Ottawa. Bloc leader Lucien Bouchard has never indicated clearly what he would do in the event of a referendum defeat, but there is a belief which gained wide currency after the serious illness that afflicted him in early December 1994, that he would not remain in place in Ottawa much beyond the referendum itself, and certainly not beyond the end of his mandate. In any event, the party as such would very likely survive as a defender of Quebec's interests in Ottawa at least until the next election, although this would no doubt require some serious adjustments. Depending on how it performs between the referendum and the election—a majority of Quebeckers are apparently quite satisfied with the record of the Bloc in Ottawa—and taking into account the precedent of 1980, when the Quebec electorate, after defeating the referendum on independence, re-elected the Parti Quebecois a few months later, there is a fair chance that the Bloc could come back in force at the next federal election. Were such a development to occur, the Canadian government might be forced to take a closer look, in the future, at Quebec's expectations in the area of foreign policy, particularly if the Bloc held the balance of power in Parliament.' The second scenario is that of a close vote in favour of or against independence. By close vote, we mean a difference of less than ten percent between the yes and no votes in the referendum. In this scenario, the impact of the referendum on Canada's foreign policy would remain rather limited if the no side were to win. Here again, Canada would probably want to publicize the fact that the referendum was over, with the country intact and more than ever open to foreign investment. However, a very close result would also justify the maintenance of a strong Bloc Quebecois presence in Ottawa, with a

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clear mandate not only to defend the views and interests of Quebec in all areas, including that of foreign policy, but also to keep alive, in Canada as well as abroad, the idea that the Quebec question was far from resolved. Quite a different situation would arise were the yes side to win by a close majority: Under the Quebec Sovereignty Draft Bill, Quebec would automatically become sovereign, at the latest, one year following a referendum in which a majority of 50 percent plus one of the voters would have answered yes to the question "Are you in favour of the Act passed by the National Assembly declaring the sovereignty of Quebec?"4' As pointed out above, considerable pressure would then be put on the federal government, particularly outside Quebec, to reject the result of the referendum as inconclusive (and possibly even as undemocratic, as some reactions to the Quebec Sovereignty Draft Bill have implied)" and to refuse to negotiate the independence of Quebec. If Canada were to adopt this attitude, which already appears to be a distinct possibility,' it would likely force Quebec to immediately declare the Quebec Sovereignty Act." In such a context, Canada would have no choice but to take immediate and decisive action to discourage recognition of the seceding province by foreign states. Even if there is already a strategy in place in Ottawa to win support abroad against Quebec independence,' discouraging recognition as such would definitely become, following the referendum, a central objective of Canadian foreign policy, until there were clear signs that the objective had been met. The main difficulty which the government of Canada would encounter in attempting to convince other states not to recognize Quebec would be the fact that the referendum as such would have been won by the yes side. Canada would probably want to explain that such a result, although attained through a democratic process, was not sufficient in itself to legitimize secession and that the strong opposition manifested, inside as well as outside Quebec, must be recognized. One can easily imagine that Canada would also want to emphasize the opposition of the native communities to such a development, as well as the refusal of Quebec to recognize in them the same right of self-determination that it claims for itself.' A last argument that Canada would probably want to use would be that of the

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lack of clear justification for secession in a context in which there is no alleged violation of minority rights. However, in attempting to explain its decision not to recognize the result of the referendum, the government of Canada could also find itself faced with some clear suggestions from other states that it should rapidly find a way of accommodating the distinct character of Quebec within the Canadian federation, in a manner acceptable to both Canada and Quebec. In this context of a unilateral declaration of independence, where the degree of support abroad for the seceding state becomes important if not crucial, there is no doubt that the Quebec government, as well as the Bloc Quebecois, would do everything possible to counter the arguments of the Canadian government and to present the independence of Quebec as the legitimate outcome of a democratic exercise. Like Premier Rene Levesque in 1980, following the defeat of the first referendum on sovereignty, today's leaders would probably want to emphasize the fact that by taking part in the referendum debate, the Canadian government had implicitly accepted its result.' In the end, however, the matter will probably be resolved largely on the basis of effectiveness. In essence, if the federal government were unable to exercise its constitutional powers in Quebec, foreign governments, after waiting for some time, would tend to interpret this as a sign of political incapacity to exercise its sovereignty and would proceed to recognize Quebec as an independent state. Considering the traditional reluctance of sovereign states to approve secession attempts, and their duty under international law to refrain from intervening in the internal matters of other sovereign states, Canada would probably have the benefit of a reasonable period of time within which to resolve the matter. If it did not succeed, however, and if no attempt whatsoever were made to find some way of accommodating Quebec, a growing movement of recognition could quickly seal Canada's fate. It should not be taken for granted, however, that a close vote in favour of independence would necessarily be greeted by a refusal on the part of Canada to negotiate with Quebec. The government of Canada, acknowledging the validity of the referendum as a democratic exercise, could always accept its result and proceed to discuss with Quebec the precise conditions under which Quebec's separation

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would become acceptable in practice. In the absence, however, of an agreement within the one-year period envisaged by the Quebec Sovereignty Draft Bill, Quebec would have no choice but to declare unilateral independence. All that Canada could do then would be to try to convince other states not to recognize Quebec until an agreement was reached. The third and last scenario, the least plausible in practice, is that of a strong and convincing vote in favour of Quebec's independence, with a margin of 10 to 20 percent separating the yes and no votes. Under this scenario, Ottawa would probably feel compelled to accept the result of the referendum and to undertake negotiations with Quebec on such difficult questions as the division of assets and liabilities, as well as the exact definition of boundaries. From a foreign policy point of view, it would also be confronted, immediately following the referendum, with tough policy decisions regarding the fate of the existing economic union. Quebec has already suggested that it would want economic ties to be maintained in some form or another, and chances are that the maritime provinces would push for their maintenance so as not to be left economically isolated from the rest of Canada. At the same time, strong pressures would be exerted, particularly in the west, for the severance of all links with Quebec. Since it is not obvious that the Canadian government would want to conclude an economic union agreement within the one-year period of time reserved for the conclusion of a negotiated settlement on independence, it is probable that the matter would remain on the foreign policy agenda of Canada for some time. Canada would also have to determine what position it would take with regard to Quebec's demand to become part of NAFTA. It is generally agreed that Quebec would have to negotiate its accession to NAFTA" and would not automatically become a member after succession. After arguing this during the referendum campaign, Canada would find itself obliged to specify under what conditions it would be ready to accept Quebec as a member of NAFTA. In so doing, however, it would have to be careful not to afford the United States an opportunity to exact further concessions from Canada itself. In the last resort, the solution to this question would probably depend to a large extent on the answer given to the question of the economic union.

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Canada would also have to cope with a somewhat diminished position in the world community in terms of population and GDP.49 It would certainly find itself hard pressed, for instance, to justify its continued presence in the Group of Seven. It might also have to renegotiate its share in the International Monetary Fund (IMF), since the quota is based on indicators such as imports and exports. Some adjustments might also have to be made to the Auto Pact, as Canada would no longer be in a position to deliver the Quebec market to the United States. The United States might jump at the occasion to put an end to this agreement." In the field of peace and security, Canada would probably have to envisage a smaller role in peace keeping missions in order to adjust to its diminished military capacity. Other consequences would follow from such a change that are difficult to determine here as they would require a program- by-program analysis of Canada's foreign policy. The only thing that can be said for sure is that a fundamental review of Canada's foreign policy would be required, following such a major development. Of the three scenarios that we have examined, only the first one, that of a strong vote against Quebec's independence, would leave Canada's foreign policy unaffected. The impact of the second scenario would depend on which side won the referendum. A slim majority in favour of independence, with a subsequent rejection of the result by Canada—which is not beyond the realm of possibility— would almost certainly open the door to a tense period of confrontation, in which both Canada and Quebec would want to influence the reaction of foreign states. Finally, the third scenario, which involves the acceptance of the result of the referendum by Canada, would have a substantial impact on Canada's foreign policy. It is also the scenario which appears the least plausible. In each of these three scenarios, the question of the democratic character of the referendum will obviously play an important role. CONCLUSION

Whatever the issue of the coming referendum, the Quebec factor will continue to be a major determinant of Canadian foreign policy and of Canada's ability to make democracy a policy objective and a

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part of the decision making process. The success or failure of the Quebec government in implementing its secessionist project will decide whether Quebec remains a domestic actor or becomes an external one. If, as one might expect from reading the polls, the PQ government fails to convince a majority of Quebeckers, it will not necessarily mean that the political game is over: Quebec will still be driven by the Gerin-Lajoie doctrine and will accordingly insist on having an independent voice in certain foreign policy matters: moreover, the constitutional debate will not be over and will continue to have an impact on Ottawa's foreign policy, especially if the Bloc Quebecois continues, as is the expectation, to occupy the position of Official Opposition in the House of Commons, inserting a strong nationalist voice into the Canadian legislative process.

NOTES 1 Gabriel A. Almond, The American People and Foreign Policy, (New York: Harcourt, 1950). 2 See, for example, Dennis Stairs, "The Press and Foreign Policy in Canada," International Journal 31, no. 2, 1976, 223-43; Dennis Stairs, "Public Opinion and External Affairs: Reflections on the Domestication of Canadian Foreign Policy" International Journal 33, no. 2, 1978, 129-49; David B. Dewitt and John J. Kirton, Canada as a Principal Power (Toronto: John Wiley and Sons, 1983), 171-77. 3 See, among others, Kim R. Nossal, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy, 2nd. ed., (Scarborough: Prentice-Hall Canada Inc., 1989), 116-17 and Andrew F. Cooper, "Questions of Sovereignty: Canada and the Widening International Agenda," Behind the Headlines 50, no. 3 (Spring 1993), 9-15. 4 See the special issue of Etudes internationales dealing with the cases of Alberta, Ontario and Quebec: Ivan Bernier, ed., "Les politiques exterieures des Etats non souverains: convergences et divergences," Etudes internationales XXIV, no. 3 (September 1994). See also Ivan Bernier and Andre Binette, Les provinces canadiennes et le commerce international (Quebec, Centre quebecois de relations internationales, 1988); T. Levy, Some Aspects of the Role of the Canadian Provinces in External Affairs: A Study in Canadian Federalism, Duke University, unpublished Ph.D. thesis, 1974; Thomas Keating and D. Munton, eds., The Provinces and

MACE, BELANGER & BERNIER 139 Canadian Foreign Policy (Toronto: Canadian Institute of International Affairs, 1985); Hans J. Michelmann and Panayotis Soldatos, eds., Federalism and International Relations: The Role of the Subnational Units (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990); Louis Balthazar, Louis Belanger and Gordon Mace, Trente ans de politique exterieure du Québec, 1960-1990 (Quebec/Sillery: Centre quebecois de relations internationales/Les editions du Septentrion, 1993). 5 Two very good documents on the subject are Douglas M. Brown,"The Evolving Role of the Provinces in Canada-U.S. Trade Relations," in Douglas M. Brown and Earl H. Fry, States and Provinces in the International Economy (Berkeley: Institute of Governmental Studies Press, 1993), 93-144, and Daniel Turp, "Le Comite permanent federalprovincial-territorial des fonctionnaires charges des droits de la personne et sa participation a la mise en ceuvre des traites," Annuaire canadien des droits de la personne, 1984-85, 77-136. 6 James D. McNiven and D. Cann, "Canadian Provincial Trade Offices in the United States," in Brown and Fry, States and Provinces, 176-77. 7 It is interesting to note how rapidly the term has found its way into official documents and how the idea is now accepted in some quarters that Canadian foreign affairs must be the object of joint efforts. See, for example, Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities for the Future, (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services Canada 1994), 7. Hereafter cited as Special Joint Committee, Report. 8 The most recent illustration is found in the last foreign policy review where, out of a total of 561 briefs, 115 were submitted by individuals, 277 by NG0s, 70 by educational and cultural organizations and only one by a provincial government. Special Joint Committee, Report, 89. 9 Kim R. Nossal, "The Impact of Provincial Governments on Canadian Foreign Policy" in Brown and Fry, States and Provinces, 235. 10 Brown and Fry, ibid., 236-38. 11 In the case of New Brunswick see, for example, Philippe Doucet and Roger Ouellette, "L'evolution de la structure de gestion des affaires intergouvernementales au Nouveau-Brunswick: 1960-1990," communication presentee au congres annuel de l'Association canadienne de science politique, Charlottetown (May-June 1992), 17-19. 12 Andrew Cohen, "The Diplomats Make a Comeback;' Globe and Mail, November 19, 1994, D 1-2. 13 See Jean Hamelin et al., I-listoire du Québec, (Toulouse/St-Hyacinthe: Privat/Edisem, 1977), 487-88.

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14 Paul Gerin-Lajoie, "La personnalite internationale du Quebec?: le Quebec est vraiment un Etat meme s'il n'a pas la souverainete entiere", Le Devoir, April 15,1965, 5. 15 Comite permanent des fonctionnaires, Document de travail sur les rela-

tions avec Pet ranger. Notes preparees par la Delegation du Québec, Conference constitutionnelle, Quebec, Mimeo, February 5, 1969. 16 Comite permanent, 20-21. 17 Paul Martin, Federalisme et relations internationales (Ottawa: Imprimeur de la Reine, 1968) and Mitchell Sharp, Fideralisme et conferences internationales sur Mutation (Ottawa: Imprimeur de la Reine, 1968). 18 Martin, Federalisme, 38. 19 Louis Balthazar and Gordon Mace, "Introduction generale," in Balthazar, Belanger and Mace, Trente ans, 16-17. 20 Claude Morin, L'Art de !'Impossible, La Diplomacie Quebecoise depuis 1960. (Montreal: Boreal, 1987), chap. 14. 21 Balthazar and Mace,"Introduction," 19-20. 22 Gouvernement du Quebec, Le Québec et l'interdependance. Le monde pour horizons: elements d'une politique d'affaires internationales (Québec: Ministere des Affaires internationales, 1991). For a broader view, see also Gordon Mace and Louis Belanger, "Synthese comparative," in Balthazar, Belanger and Mace, Trente ans, 341-82. 23 Bernard Landry, Les relations internationales du Québec: refleter noire realite. Speech given to the Conseil des relations internationales de Montreal (CORIM), Montréal, October 14, 1994, 4. [Our translation.] 24 See Paul Gerin-Lajoie, Allocution prononcee devant les membres du corps consulaire de Montreal le 12 avril 1965, retranscribed in Le Québec dans le monde. Textes et documents I (Ste-Foy:Association Québec dam le monde, 1990), 101-06. 25 For a view on the international policies of the last Liberal mandate, see Louis Belanger,"L'espace international de l'Etat quebecois dans l'apresguerre froide: vers une compression?," in Alain-G. Gagnon and Alain Noel, eds, L'espace quebecois (Montreal: Boreal, forthcoming). 26 Government of Quebec, Bureau du premier ministre, Communique, "Declaration du premier ministre sur Montreal, October 16, 1994. [Our translation.] 27 Norman Delisle, "Bernard Landry denonce le 'pays unitaire' de Chretien," Le Devoir, November 10, 1994,A-10.

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28 MichelVenne,"Parizeau ne veut pas embarrasserWashington: it se rendra a New York plutot que dans la capitale," Le Devoir, November 24, 1994,A-1, A-8. 29 As was the case, for example, with the Trudeau-Mitterrand relationship at the beginning of the 1980s. See Gabrielle Mathieu, Les relations franco-quebecoises de 1976-1985, Les cahiers du Centre quebecois de relations internationales, no. 8, (August 1992), 134-38. 30 Michel Venne, "Pas de guerre des drapeaux a Washington," Le Devoir, November 19 and 20, 1994,A-8. 31 The Federal Government's policy is dearly expressed in Ministere des Affaires exterieures et du Commerce international du Canada, Les relations ftderales-provinciales: les parametres d'un cadre de fonctionnement, January 1989, 28. 32 See Jean-Francois Lisee, Dans Neil de l'aigle: Washington face au Québec (Montreal: Boreal, 1990), 301-03 et 307-12. 33 See Morin, L'Art de 'Impossible, 262-65. According to Morin, only three leaders could give favourable assent to sovereignty without provoking such a reaction: the Canadian Prime Minister, the American President and the Pope. 34 Landry, Les relations internationales, 12-13. 35 Report of the Special Joint Committee Reviewing Canadian Foreign Policy, Canada's Foreign Policy: Dissenting Opinions and Appendices (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services Canada 1994). Hereafter cited as Dissenting Opinions. 36 Kamal S. Shehadi, Ethnic Self-determination and the Break-up of States, Adelphi Paper no. 283, (December 1993), (London: Brassey's), 84-85. 37 Shehadi, Ethnic Self-Determination, 26-28. 38 Speaking at a conference at the University of Alberta in November 1994, former Supreme Court Justice Willard Estey went so far as to claim that a majority of no less than 90 percent in favor of independence would be required to allow Quebec to proceed with its project. This amounts to a negation in practice of Quebec's right to secede. See Le Soleil, November 24, 1994, A-5. The reverse of that position, of course, is that a close vote against independence could well be interpreted in Quebec as just a temporary setback. Interestingly, the leader of the Reform Party, Preston Manning, argued that 50 percent plus one vote in a referendum was enough to justify Quebec's case for secession: see Globe and Mail, December 31, 1994, D6.

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39

Le Soleil, December 12, 1994, A-4.

40 This could change substantially the traditional method of influencing Canadian foreign policy, which was through the Quebec caucus of the national party in power. For an indication of the influence of that caucus in the field of foreign policy, see Paul G. Thomas, "The Role of National Party Caucuses," in the series of studies commissioned as part of the research program of the Royal Commission on the Economic Union and the Development Prospects for Canada: Peter Aucoin, Coordinator, Party Government and Regional Representation in Canada No. 36, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985), 102. 41 Quebec, National Assembly, Draft Bill on the Sovereignty of Quebec, First Session, Thirty-Fifth Legislature; Tabled by Mr. Jacques Parizeau, Premier, art. 17 and 18. 42 See "P.M. dismisses referendum plan as P.Q. `scam:"Globe and Mail, December 8, 1994, A6. 43 Judging by the reaction of Prime Minister Jean Chretien to the Quebec Sovereignty Draft Bill in December 1994; see "Chretien Leads Sovereignty Debate," Globe and Mail, December 9, 1994, A6. 44 Article 16 of the Quebec Sovereignty Draft Bill authorizes the National Assembly to determine an earlier date for the entry into force of the Act (assuming that the Bill itself has been adopted before the referendum). 45 See for instance Rheal Seguin and Suzan Delacourt,"Strategy Abroad, Winning Friends and Influencing People," Globe and Mail, November 5, 1994, D-1. 46 "Quebec Inuit Ask Ottawa to Save them from PQ Plan," Globe and Mail, December 9, 1994, Al. 47 Intervention by Mr. Rene Levesque, First Ministers' Conference, Ottawa, June 9, 1980, in J.-Y. Morin, F. Rigaldies et D. Turp, Droit international public, Tome 2, Notes et documents, (Montreal: Les editions Theinis, 1988), 396. 48 See on this, for instance, the declaration of Sandra Fuentes-Berain, the Mexican Ambassador to Canada, in September 1994: Le Soleil, September 20, 1994, B-16. See also "Un Quebec souverain clans l'ALENA serait force de faire des concessions," Le Devoir, August 15, 1994,A-2. 49 Stephen K. Halloway, "Canada Without Quebec: The Implications of Quebec Separation for Canadian Foreign Policy," paper presented at the New England International Studies Association conference 1991, 15 ff.

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50 As argued by Ronald Wonnacott, "Reconstructing North American Free Trade following Quebec's separation: What can be Assumed," in G. Ritchie, R.J. Wonnacott,W:H. Furtan, R.S. Gray, R.G. Lipsey and R. Tremblay, Broken Links, Trade Relations after a Quebec Secession, (Toronto: C.D. Howe Institute, 1991), 33-36.

VIII The Politics of Oligarchy: "Democracy" and Canada's Recent Conversion to Latin America

JEAN DAUDELIN

More than ever, Latin America is part of Canada's economic and political landscape. The currency crisis in Mexico, war between Ecuador and Peru, inflation prospects in Brazil, coming elections in Argentina, continuing prosperity in Chile: even five years ago so many of the issues and countries we hear or read about barely made the pages of our newspapers.While not yet household names, Fernando Enrique Cardoso, Ernesto Zedillo, Carlos Menem and Alberto Fujimori now compete for space and time with Europe's Edouard Balladur, Helmut Kohl and Silvio Berlusconi. Compare this with our interest in Asia which, in the political realm at least, is simply not part of our world: Deng Xiaoping aside, who could name two Asian political leaders? The increased visibility of Latin America in our media reflects the region's growing importance in Canada's international trade and

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political agenda. Since 1989, the Canadian government has taken a series of initiatives which, when viewed all together, configure a genuine—if not necessarily definitive—"conversion" to Latin America. The old tension in our foreign relations between Europe and the Americas has been resolved, for better or worse, to the advantage of the latter.' While still limited, our trade with Latin America is quickly growing. We have become an active and influential player in the major inter-American institutions—the Inter-American Development Bank (MB) and in the Organization of American States (OAS), which we joined at the beginning of 1990. Moreover, of the three major foreign trips which Prime Minister Chretien made at the beginning of his mandate, two were to Latin America. In our foreign policy outlook, this hemispheric conversion undoubtedly represents our major reorientation since the end of the Second World War. Since 1989, Canada has been betting on Latin America.This paper explores the mechanics of the conversion and asks to what extent the process has been democratic. The answer it offers is quite straightforward: the series of decisions that led to Canada's deepening involvement in the Americas was not the result of a democratic process. Instead, the movement was led by a small coterie of influential politicians—starting with Brian Mulroney, who was then Prime Minister—high-level government officials, academics and businesspeople. To summarily condemn this "politics of oligarchy" however, would be preposterous. The policy shift was mainly dictated by external dynamics: the Latin America option was imposed on, rather than adopted by, Canada; the country drifted South, rather than having purposefully sailed there, and it was forced to do so quickly. The context of the conversion was therefore largely responsible for the fact that, to the limited extent that they could exercise control, elites steered it.The growing importance of Latin America for Canada, however, is likely to change this oligarchic character of its policy; as Canadians measure the growing importance to their economic well-being of their country's relations with the region, they will be reluctant to leave those relations solely to the small clique that, until now, has directed them. It is not so much top-down consultations or formal opening of the foreign policy process, as the growing importance of basic material interests that will lead to the democratization of Canada's policy toward Latin America.

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The chapter is divided into three parts. It gives an overview of Canada's quickly expanding involvement in Latin America since 1989; it explores the dynamics of this "drift" South; and it examines the prospects for the democratization of Canada's Latin American policy. DRIFTING SOUTH

1945-1990: A Tenuous Relationship Until recently, Canada's external relations had two main poles, and Latin America was not really on the map. In trying to balance old but weakening ties with Europe and relatively recent but fast developing links with the United States, Canada had no time or energy for other regions of the world. Moreover, Latin America was seen—for obvious and forcefully expressed reasons—as the bailiwick of the United States. Diplomatic relations, first established with Argentina, Brazil and Mexico in the 1940s, developed only slowly. Economic relations were also limited:Venezuela was Canada's main trading partner, because of oil, and Brazil the main destination for Canadian private investment. In an effort to diversify Canada's trade relationships, commercial initiatives were directed at Latin American countries under the Trudeau governments.The 1970s marked a turning point as Canada propped up its relations with the region, joining the main interAmerican institutions and sending high-level missions—one of which was led by Prime Minister Trudeau—to some of the main countries of the region. In 1972, Canada joined the OAS as a permanent observer, and the IDB as a full member. During that period, a CANDU reactor was sold to Argentina's military government and economic relations with Brazil and Mexico became increasingly close. Although protests were regularly heard about human rights violations, especially in Chile, trade dominated the day.' The turn of the decade was marked by two events which redefined the parameters of Canada's relationship with the region. In July 1979, the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) took power in Nicaragua, toppling the Somoza family dynasty which had dominated the country for half a century.The new government rode a wave of popular support and proclaimed its intention of carrying out

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fundamental social reforms while maintaining a pluralistic and democratic society. Early signs of the limitations of the Sandinista experiment notwithstanding, the revolution generated remarkable enthusiasm and interest among progressive Canadians. The Sandinistas' success also encouraged the guerrilla groups active in Guatemala and, especially, in El Salvador and scared the conservative forces of these countries. Under newly elected President Ronald Reagan, the United States quickly sided with these conservative sectors to crush the "communist" forces. Beginning in 1982, it encouraged, financed, and manipulated the peasant resistance that was building up in Northern Nicaragua in reaction to Sandinista agrarian policies.' As a David versus Goliath drama unfolded, progressives the world over took up the fight against u.s. aggression in Nicaragua, as well as U.S. support for repression of left-wing insurgencies in El Salvador and Guatemala. In Canada, an impressive network of solidarity groups, academic research teams and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) banded together to denounce U.S. policy in the region, and to defend the Sandinista experiment. Pressure was exerted on the Canadian government to distance itself from the U.S. stand in Central America, to take a tough stand on Guatemala and El Salvador, and to help Nicaragua.' This surge of interest and involvement on the part of intellectuals, trade unions, members of progressive churches and NGOs became the dominant influence on Canadian policy toward Latin America after 1982. In August that year, Mexico had announced its inability to service the interest .on its international debt. Thus began the infamous debt crisis and Latin America's lost decade. As other countries of the region soon followed suit, the influx of private investment dried up, leading to a massive flight of capital and throwing the North American banking establishment into disarray. Adjustment programs followed special economic plans; inflation was rampant; and economic growth and exports came to a halt in most countries. Canadian banks and private companies joined the outmigration of capital, and the Canadian government shelved its trade development projects. The economic crisis in Mexico and South America thus combined with a political crisis in Central America to radically alter Canada's outlook on the region. For the rest of the

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decade, the agenda would be dominated by politics and human rights in Central America. Big countries—indeed the whole of South America—were forgotten, as was the promotion of trade and investment projects in the region.' A Slippery Slope South: 1990-1995 In 1990, Canada's neglect of the region ended. The new phase of relations had a low-key start: in January, Canada became a full member of the OAS. Although there were a variety of reasons for joining,' the fact was that for years the hemispheric forum had been little more than a political backwater, a kind of golden exile for embarrassing diplomats.While prospects for a revitalization of the organization are now better than ever, this was not the case five years ago when Canada joined. From the start, however, a very activist outlook was adopted by Canada, beginning with the nomination, as ambassador, of Jean-Paul Hubert, an energetic and upwardly mobile foreign service officer. Early on, the Canadian delegation started to push for institutional reform and called on the OAS to take a more active part in hemispheric politics. Canada was, for instance, one of the main supporters of the establishment of a Unit for the Promotion of Democracy (UPD) as part of the General Secretariat, Canada was active in funding that Unit; it also pushed for a clear commitment by the OAS to promote representative democracy on the continent.' Becoming a full member of the OAS, propping up the UPD, and promoting democracy were, however, no more than first steps. Because they were essentially political initiatives, these actions can still be considered a continuation of the 1980s agenda.The same can be said of Canada's quickly growing involvement in hemispheric security affairs. Starting at arm's length by demanding a substantial revamping of the Inter-American Defence Board, Canadian representatives soon found themselves discussing cooperation against drug trafficking, and then collaborating through North American Aerospace Defence Command (NORAD) in the entire—largely U.S.dominated—process.' A similar course was followed during in the Haitian crisis when Canada had to wait for the U.S. to take the initiative and provide a solution, however fragile, to the conflict.' While these initiatives still hark back to the political emphasis of the 1980s,

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they display the dominant character of Canada's Latin American policy in the 1990s: the lack of control the government seems to have over its own growing agenda in the region. The best example of this drift South, and also the central event of Canada's recent conversion to Latin America, was the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which became law in January 1994. NAFTA was the culmination of a process that began with the Canada-U.S. Free Trade Agreement (FTA). Following a very lively and even tense debate, Canada signed the FTA in 1988. Two years later, at the request of the government of President Carlos Salinas de Gortari, the U.S. began preliminary talks with Mexico to explore the possibility of a similar deal with that country. The prospect of free trade negotiations with a Latin American country threatened to turn Canada into a mere spoke in an expanding, U.S.centred, hemispheric trade system. There was no choice but to seek a seat at the negotiation table. As Ed Dosman put it in 1992: The proposal for a North American Free Trade Area caught Canada by surprise, and because the prospect of Mexico actually seeking a bilateral deal with the United States was so unexpected, Canada entered the trilateral trade talks initially for defensive reasons rather than as part of a broader, forward-looking North American policy. 10 Canada sought protection from three threats: the emergence of regional economic blocs; the increasing unilateralism of U.S. trade policy; and, after FTA, the danger of a U.S.-centred hub-and-spoke trade system in the hemisphere." Support for the Uruguay Round of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade was the principal element of Canada's trade strategy NAFTA was the second step in the establishment of a rules-based, potentially decentralized trade regime; further steps would be taken as the Agreement expanded. Canada, by calling for wider membership and in promoting the accession of Chile to the hemispheric free trade system, was acting in a manner consistent with this definition of the country's long-term interests. It was seeking to regain control over its involvement in a process it had not initially anticipated. In other words, the key component of

DAUDELIN 151 Canada's conversion to Latin America—NAFTA—was not really part of a coherent plan or a strategy, but was rather a response to necessity. From Trade to Politics and Back Canada's joining NAFTA placed trade back at the centre of a much expanded Latin American agenda. Politics and human rights did not suddenly disappear, but took a back seat to economic issues. Just as the Central American civil wars and the debt crisis had marginalized trade objectives, the progressive democratization of the whole hemisphere and the economic adjustment programs—relatively successful, from a macroeconomic standpoint—gave economic issues a renewed prominence. The end of the Cold War, symbolized in the region by the electoral defeat of the Sandinistas and by the peace agreement between the guerrillas and a right-wing government in El Salvador, put an end to the political debates that had divided the hemisphere since the Second World War: aside from the Workers' Party (PT) in Brazil (which would meet with defeat in 1994) and Rafael Caldera's Christian Democratic Party (COPEI) in Venezuela (whose return to populism plunged Venezuela into its deepest economic crisis in decades) no significant political force in the region was still questioning the basic tenets of neoliberal and export-oriented policies. This produced a depoliticization, however temporary, of Latin America's public life, thus reinforcing the predominance of trade and economic issues. As a consequence, Canada's focal point in the region moved away from Central America toward the most modern and the biggest economies of the hemisphere—primarily Mexico and Chile, but also Brazil and Argentina. From Canada's standpoint, the hemisphere now appears above all as a trade area and, with Asia, as one of the two ways to escape the overpowering influence of the United States. This diagnosis and strategy certainly make sense, although one can question the soundness of the Latin American economies. For example, the recent peso crisis should make us pause and reconsider Canada's unrealistic and over-enthusiastic view of short- and medium-term economic prospects for the region. The question we ask now, though, is very different:To what extent can we say that the crucial choices made in the last five years have been consistent with democratic processes and

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principles? Canada's "conversion" to Latin America is, to a large extent, a wager; since there is quite a lot at stake for Canadians in this wager, the question is far from merely academic. AN ELITE—LED CONVERSION

None of the decisions reviewed in the preceding section were a result of extensive public debate. OAS accession had been debated for a number of years, but only in very small circles. Arguably, it made no more sense to join in 1990 than it would have in 1988 or in 1992. The issue was resuscitated and pushed by a few influential Foreign Affairs officials who found a favourable environment and a favourably inclined Prime Minister. Although there were a few criticisms,' the final decision generally met with public indifference. Such was not the case with NAFTA. A constellation of trade unions, Canadian nationalists, and progressive NGOs and academics took the stand to express their reservations about the consequences for Canada of opening the market to Mexico-based cheap-labour manufacturing. Issues such as respect for labour and environmental legislation were also prominent." The creation, under NAFTA, of commissions dedicated to these issues helped to allay these apprehensions. Nevertheless, the Liberal party felt that resistance was strong enough to justify the promise—which would prove to be vain—of renegotiating parts of the agreement before signing it. Ultimately, however, resistance was a futile, rearguard affair. Opponents were quick, and possibly right, to denounce adherence to NAFTA as a decision taken primarily for trade and economic reasons, a decision likely, at least in the short term, to benefit only relatively few business interests. One can hardly contend, however, that the reorientation of Canada's policy toward the region manifested a decline in the democratic character of the process. It is certainly true that the proponents of the new policy did not care much about democracy, a central issue for the Central America human rights constituency which had been highly influential in the preceding decade. Yet this latter constituency, while no doubt larger than the trade interests, could not claim very wide popular support. Although a legitimate endeavour, it was not of itself democratic. In other words,

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the change was little more than a swap of dominant constituencies, replacing one whose membership was drawn from academics, NGOs and the trade union leadership with a combination of public sector technocrats and private sector business representatives: in both cases, elite groups by any standards. The change was nonetheless significant. The "old" constituency focused on social, political and human rights issues; its area of predilection was Central America; it was decidedly critical about U.S. policy toward the region; it opposed joining the OAS on the ground that it was still overly dominated by the United States;" it saw free trade and economic adjustment as more of a threat than an asset; and aid, by contrast, as a major issue. Finally, its conception of democracy was based upon substantive and comprehensive issues, including justice and respect for a variety of social and economic rights. By comparison, the "new" constituency values a democracy which is essentially limited to regular elections; it has few worries about the United States and no qualms about the OAS; its overriding priority is trade; aid, insofar as it is distinct from trade promotion, barely interests it; and its countries of predilection are Mexico, Chile and Brazil. The new phase of Canadian foreign policy involved a modification of the relative role of the state and the civil constituencies in the formulation of Latin American policy. While the government was pressured into action on Central America by civil organizations,' it played a much more active role in the post-1989 trade-centred phase. As political leaders, trade and foreign affairs officials pulled at least as much as they were pushed. The conclusion that the threat of a U.S.-centred hub-and-spoke system compelled Canada to join NAFTA clearly was not reached only in a few large companies' boardrooms. Initiatives such as the Prime Minister opening the 1994 trade show in Mexico and the Brazil-Argentina-Chile tour ofJanuary 1995 demonstrated the leading role that the government was willing to play in selling Latin America to the private sector. In other words, the government itself became a critically important stakeholder in the new policy, which it had not been before. Neither the "old" agenda nor those who supported it have vanished. Although the interest in human rights issues in El Salvador and Guatemala and the enthusiasm for Nicaragua's experiment have declined, substantial organizational and political capabilities, as well as

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concern for these countries and for "substantive" democritization, remain. Part of the old constituency has reconverted to Mexican affairs, especially after the Chiapas uprising of January 1994, which came to symbolize all that was wrong-headed and narrow-minded in the neoliberal agenda. Cuba, also dear to this constituency, remains on the agenda, with progressive groups joining Canadian nationalists in a rare situation in which Canadian policy can easily differ from that of the United States. It is probably with respect to Haiti, though, that the biggest "traditional" mobilization occurred. At stake were not only human rights and democratization, but also the credibility of the OAS and of Canada as major promoters and defenders of democracy in the region.The fact that both had to wait for the United States to be ready testifies to the practical limits of this credibility. The presence in Canada, especially in Montreal, of a significant exiled community gave the debate about Haiti an eminently public dimension and led to a wider, 1980s-type of discussion. The relative prominence of the issue and an apparently wide, if at times ill-informed, consensus on the return ofJean-Bertrand Aristide, should not lead us to the conclusion that the whole process was democratic. The course of action finally taken—first the embargo and then, quite a while later, support for U.S. intervention and substantial economic aid for the reconstruction of the country—was decided by a small circle of public officials. Even these decisions were not the result of an in-depth debate in Parliament. To argue that they are supported by a wide cross-section of the Canadian public would be to engage in speculation. Little Interest, Little Democracy Even more clearly than NAFTA, the Haitian case illustrates the basic challenge that democratizers confront with respect to Canada's foreign policy toward Latin America: limited interest, in both senses of the word, leads to limited involvement in the debate. A small number of stakeholders translates into a small number of willing participants. Let me briefly explore this issue, starting with Kim Nossal's statement on democracy and Canada's foreign policy, which is fast becoming a dassic.'6 I will not discuss Nossal's scathing and, in my view, definitive appraisal of consultation processes," but instead will use as a starting point his contention that Parliament has to be the main actor in a democratized

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foreign policy process. For Nossal, the main obstades to a democratization of Canada's foreign policy lie in the characteristics of a parliamentary system which, contrary to U.S.-style presidentialism, offers the people's representatives no real "invitation to struggle" on external affairs issues.' While agreeing with the thrust of this statement, I think it needs to be substantially qualified. The case of Canada's Latin American policy suggests that two other factors, one crucial and the other slightly less so, should be considered: the degree of public interest in foreign policy issues, and the degree of public awareness of the relevance of these issues. The term "interest" should be understood here in a restricted sense: the extent to which a foreign problem affects Canadians' material well-being and the economic and political stability of their country or region.This is very different from the humanitarian interest that leads to an involvement in human rights campaigns or in solidarity groups. Only basic, hard-nosed material interests can force Parliament to seriously discuss foreign policy decisions and to strive for wide public support for them: only when something important is at stake for the electorate will Parliament make decisions which please the electorate.This point is missed by Nossal when he notes, for instance, that "neither the Bloc Quebecois nor the Reform Party has evinced an interest in foreign policy matters."' Could this lack of interest not be traced back to the irrelevance, comparatively speaking, of foreign policy issues in the last election? How else could we account for the major victories of these "parochial" parties in three of the four biggest provinces of the country? Moreover, was foreign policy not neglected by the other major parties? To put it bluntly, had an external problem been decisive, or even only important, for their election, even the Bloc and the Reform Party would have "evinced an interest in foreign policy matters." In fact, this did happen no later than in 1989 with the Canada-U.S. Free Trade Agreement: at that time, every party took a stand, simply because the issue was central to the election. Nossal's conclusion should therefore be modified: Canada's parliamentary system only offers a real "invitation to struggle" on foreign policy issues when the latter are of critical relevance to Canadians' interests. This occurs only when important domestic economic or political interests are at stake. Only then can democracy reach the foreign policy field.

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There is still a caveat to this conclusion: while an "objective" interest in a given foreign policy issue might exist, it can only become an electoral issue if there is wide public awareness of it. Information is essential, and Canadians are far from well informed about Latin American affairs. This is changing quickly, however, and independently of the limited initiative demonstrated by our media. Awareness follows closely on the heels of material interests. The peso crisis, the Peru-Ecuador war, the prospects of a currency devaluation in Argentina, and the likelihood of a major political crisis in Venezuela, are issues that have had and will have direct effects on the value of the Canadian dollar and on the behaviour of our stock exchanges. Such connections were weaker before• NAFTA, and we may rest assured that people will from henceforth notice them, regardless of media coverage. To sum up, the main obstacle to the democratization of Canada's Latin American policy lies in the lack of relevance of hemispheric affairs to Canadians' daily life.The parliamentary system has made things more difficult because the political parties will only pay attention to foreign issues if they directly affect their chances of being elected. PROSPECTS FOR DEMOCRATIZATION

For a while, but particularly since the Liberal Party's 1993 electoral victory, Ottawa has been in a consultative mood.We have had public audiences on defence, a "National Forum on Canada's Foreign Policy" in the Spring of 1994, and public audiences before a Joint Committee of the House and Senate, whose report was published in November 1994. Early in February 1995 the government's answer to this document was made public. The policy orientations chosen were presented as a positive response to the report of the Joint Committee, to that of the National Forum, and more generally, to the values and interests of all Canadians. As soon as these principles are translated into action, members of the Joint Committee, participants in the National Forum, and Canadians from all walks of life will surely denounce government policy as a poor reflection of their recommendations, proposals, principles and interests.' Kim Nossal's thesis will be confirmed: most will agree that consultations were not real

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"democracy in action," that they amounted to little more than public relations exercises, and that, in fact, the government ultimately did what it wanted to do. What else are we to expect? Democracy is about power. It is almost universally praised, even by those who have power. Yet those who possess it are never likely to share it willingly. Power is something not easily parted with,' especially if the job of the one in power is the only position at stake on election day. This very simple idea seems to escape those who, by presenting democracy as a cultural product and as something valued entirely for itself, implicitly attribute an extremely low value to the power that is at stake. Democratization is the wresting of power from the minority which used to have it by the majority which did not. One should not expect the current government to gladly share its hard-won control over Canada's foreign policy. Similarly, one cannot criticize the NGOs for being increasingly vocal and for wanting to share in this control. This kind of demand, however it is presented, is not a quest for democracy, it is a quest for power.Yet, democracy emerges precisely from the multiplication, from the generalization, of such quests: it is a contingent outcome of conflicts for power. What are the prospects for such a sharing of power with respect to Canada's foreign policy toward Latin America? At one level, they seem better than ever before. Objective interest in the region is growing fast. The morning news now tells us about Mexico's peso and stock exchange because what happens to them affects Canada's own dollar and stock exchanges. This means that Latin America's constituency is growing well beyond the two we have examined before: an increasing number of Canadians have something at stake. Consequently, as the demand for information increases, flows of information will also increase, and so will demands for consultations. As a result, the government's capacity to wield its foreign policy in the region as it wishes is, to some extent, diminishing. Latin America is becoming part of the Parliament's normal fare, increasingly requiring parties and parliamentarians to have an opinion on related matters, and to be better informed: there is little doubt that the Bloc Quebecois and Reform Party, relatively averse to foreign policy, have developed, and are quickly expanding, positions on Chile's accession to NAFTA, on Canada's

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currency swap fund with Mexico, and on the next steps in hemispheric integration. In other words, because Latin America is penetrating Canada's economic and political life, parliamentarians have to become more deeply involved in foreign policy matters. That being said, our parliamentary system makes it improbable that relations with Latin America will become a major political issue or that they will be addressed in any comprehensive manner by our democratic institutions. We are unlikely to see the kind of institutional changes needed for MPs to become involved in Latin American policy Unless economic integration with Latin America becomes a factor of overwhelming importance in Canada's domestic policy, our relations with the region will remain the preserve of a relatively small circle of politicians, bureaucrats, businesspeople, academics, and activists. In short, Canadian policy toward Latin America will remain restricted by oligarchic politics. CONCLUSION: IN PRAISE OF OLIGARCHY?

This discussion started with the implicit assumption that the democratization of foreign policy was a worthwhile endeavour. While generally sharing this assumption, I nonetheless have reservations which I will briefly set out in this conclusion. Even in a country such as the United States foreign policy matters cannot be said to be fully "appropriated" by the democratic process. Except for major ventures, the foreign policy establishment remains relatively insulated from the democratic arena. George Bush's defeat by Bill Clinton shortly after his Gulf War triumph testifies to the relatively secondary role that foreign policy plays in U.S. political life and to its relatively inconsequential nature. The current resistance by Congress to aid for Mexico, for instance, reflects not so much the prominence of foreign issues as their subordination to domestic priorities. Because of the design of its political institutions and the strength of its media, the United States does admittedly offer what is perhaps the most closely integrated "two-level game" between domestic and foreign policy anywhere in the world and, for that reason, one of the most open and democratic foreign policy processes. Even there, however, it would be far-fetched to talk of a democratized foreign policy: except in times

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of crisis, foreign affairs simply do not penetrate deeply enough into the lives of most U.S. citizens. Canada, however much a "trading nation," can claim even less salience for its foreign policy. An almost absolute prominence of domestic affairs is the rule. For that very reason, and despite the previously discussed institutional factors, foreign policy might forever remain the realm of an oligarchy of statesmen and stateswomen. How bad is this? Perhaps it is not as lamentable as it may seem. For some issues, if not most, democratic politics in a modern mass society might not offer the best prospects for a humane and responsible foreign policy. On the question of migration and refugees, for instance, just as on the death penalty or bilingualism at the domestic level, there is no substitute for the enlightened consideration of the problem by an informed elite ready to take the lead and the "heat." A "democratic" aid policy, likewise, would be subject to the whims and moods of a public that might not always resist the siren calls of populist politicians. In fact, budgetary considerations and lots of concern for changing public opinion have led to substantial cuts in the level of aid, with possibly more to come. More generally, fundamental, long-term foreign policy orientations and security interests might to a continually increasing extent escape the reach of electoral politics which are ever more deeply engulfed in short-term issues and myopic views.' In such a context, an elite of influential academics, business people, politicians and civil servants, some mediocre and some visionary, are bound to play a dominant role. The inability of President Clinton to win congressional support for a Mexican bailout demonstrates how a political system subject to particularism and populist manipulation can result in vacillation. As the Congress dithered, the crisis spilled over—through what was called the "Tequila effect"—to many other Latin American countries.' If we take a longer-term look at Canada's deepening relationship with the region, we may find that it will be easier for a more elitist polity to stay the course. And the evolution of relations with the region is bound to be troubled when, for example, Mexican political transition runs its course—with the Partido

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Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) a likely casualty—Brazil's economic adjustment inevitably meets with major political obstacles or, say, Argentina follows Mexico in a drastic devaluation of its currency. The argument of this chapter should not be construed as an allout defense of traditional modes of foreign policy making in this country. Checks of some kind that go beyond 'periodic electoral judgments must be placed on the policy elite. Recent decisions by Canadian policy makers appear to derive from motives which have never been spelled out, much less debated: for instance, is not Canada's decision to extend aid to Haiti ultimately motivated by a willingness to stem or prevent refugee flows? Such long-term orientations should be appropriated by parliamentarians, and the sooner the better. Likewise, media attention must be heightened, professional expertise deepened, and consultations, such as those of 1994, must be held regularly. A clear understanding of the limited, watchdog and wise-counsel character of the consultations would help maintain interest in them, while false illusions of partaking in power politics would inevitably lead to very real disillusionment.

NOTES

My thanks to the editors and the participants to the preparatory workshop for a most stimulating discussion, to Jacques Zylberberg and Ed Dosman for quite a few of the ideas taken up here, and to Michelle Hibler for thoroughly editing a first draft. Responsibility for the final product is all mine. 1 See Hal Klepak, What's in It for Us? Canada's Relationship with Latin America, The FOCAL Papers (Ottawa: Canadian Foundation for the Americas, 1994). 2 For a fuller discussion see J.C.M. Ogelsby, Gringos from the Far North: Essays in the History of Canadian-Latin American Relations, 1866-1968 (Toronto: Macmillan, 1976); and James F. Rochlin, Discovering the Americas (Vancouver: UBC Press, 1994). 3 This somewhat "revisionist" view of the contra war is quickly gaining ground, even in Sandinista circles. See for instance Alejandro Bendaiia,

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Una Tragedia Campesina, (Managua:Editora de Arte, 1991); and La Guerra en Nicaragua, ed., Orlando Ntinez Soto (Managua: CIPRES, 1991). 4 Elizabeth Spehar and Nancy Thede, "Canada and Central America's Democratization Process," in Beyond Mexico, eds., Jean Daudelin and Edgar J. Doman (Ottawa: Canadian Foundation for the Americas, Carleton University Press, 1995), 121-51. 5 Edgar J. Dosman, "Canada and Latin America: the New Look," International Journal, 47 no. 3 (Summer 1992). 6 See, by Peter McKenna,"How is Canada Doing in the OAS?," Canadian Foreign Policy, 1, no. 2 (Spring 1993), 81-98; and "Canada-OAS Relations: More of the Same?," in Daudelin and Dosman, eds., Beyond Mexico. 7 John W. Graham, "In Pursuit of Democracy: The Case of the UPD," Changing Americas Series: Report (Ottawa: Canadian Foundation for the Americas, 1993). Peter McKenna, "Canada in the OAS: More of the same?' 8 Hal Klepak, "Canada and Security Issues in Latin America" in Beyond Mexico. 9 See Jacques Zylberberg, "La spirale du vide et du chaos," in Beyond Mexico, 101-20; as well as Peter McKenna, "Canada's Policy toward Haiti," a forthcoming article; and, for an analysis of the fragility of the process, Bob Shacochis, "The Immaculate Invasion," Harper's (February 1995), 44-63. 10 Dosman, "Canada and Latin America," 538. 11 For a more careful examination of these threats, see Jean Daudelin and Edgar J. Dosman, "The New Era in Canadian-Latin American Relations," in Beyond Mexico, 1-11. 12 See for instance Jeffrey Simpson, "The Folly of Joining the OAS," in Globe and Mail, October 4, 1989, A6; and David MacKenzie, "The World's Greatest Joiner: Canada and the Organization of American States," British Journal of Canadian Studies, 6, no. 1, (1991), 203-20. 13 A very comprehensive critical overview of the treaty is The Political Economy of North American Free Trade, eds., Ricardo Grinspun and Maxwell A. Cameron (Montréal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1993). 14 Elizabeth Spehar and Nancy Thede, "Canada and Central America's Democratization Process," in Beyond Mexico, 121-51.

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15 See Laura Macdonald, "Current and Future Directions for Canadian NGOs in Latin America," in A Dynamic Partnership, Canada's Changing Role in the Americas, eds., Jerry Haar and Edgar J. Dosman (New Brunswick and London:Transaction Publishers, 1993); and Spehar and Thede, "Canada and Central America's Democratization Process." 16 Kim Richard Nossal, "The Democratization of Canadian Foreign Policy?" Canadian Foreign Policy, 1, no. 3, (Fall 1993), 95-107. 17 "... the democratizers have it all wrong: what they are proposing are not reforms that will 'democratize' Canadian foreign policy; rather, these are merely techniques of political management that are being paraded as examples of democracy in action:' Nossal, `Democratization" 101. 18 Nossal, 'Democratization" 99. 19

Ibid., 104.

20 For a crystal-clear precedent, see Cranford Pratt's analysis of the government's follow-up on the Winegard report on Canadian aid to the Third World, in a speech by Pratt, Some Lessons From the Last Time Around, (Ottawa:The North-South Institute, 1993). 21 For brilliant intellectual constructions based on this view, see Adam Przeworski, "Democracy as a Contingent Outcome of Conflict," in Constitutionalism and Democracy, eds., Jon Elster and Rune Slagstad (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988); and Dietrich Rueschemeyer, Evelyne Huber Stephens and John D. Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). For a humble extrapolation based on these theses, see Jean Daudelin "La democratic incertaine," in La Nmocratie dans tous ses Etats, eds., Claude Emeri and Jacques Zylberberg (Sainte-Foy: Les Presses de l'Universite Laval, 1993). 22 See "Democracy and Popularity," Chapter II of Conor Cruise O'Brien, On the Eve of the Millennium (Concord, Ontario: Anansi, 1994). 23 For instance the reluctance of the U.S. Congress to approve the lending of U.S. $40 billion to Mexico brought the Sao Paulo stock exchange down by 5.3 percent on January 30. jornal do Brasil,January 31, 1995, 1,11.

Democracy as a Foreign Policy Objective

IX Negotiating Human Rights with China

JEREMY T. PALTIEL

For nearly twenty years following the establishment of diplomatic ties with the People's Republic of China, in October 1970, Canada's relations with China were dominated by commercial and politicalstrategic concerns. Canada's commercial interests date back to the wheat sales initiated by Prime Minister John Diefenbaker in 1960, but were broadened as a consequence of Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau's interest in bringing China into the international community as a demonstration of a distinctive Canadian foreign policy.This independent initiative was soon overshadowed by the strategic relationship that developed between Washington and Beijing under President Nixon and Secretary of State Kissinger. China's strategic posture of hostility to Soviet Union, and the lure of commercial opportunities in an economy just entering the world

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trading system, caused Western politicians to overlook the country's human rights record and to highlight the difference between China and the main communist threat—the Soviet Union. China's isolation and cultural remoteness, which obscured human rights abuses, contributed to this wilful amnesia. The difficulty of penetrating Chinese society also impeded empathetic connection with individual human rights victims. In the period following the death of Mao Zedong, while China gradually opened up its society and economy under Deng Xiaoping, the extent of Chinese human rights violations became more widely known. However, politicians were reluctant to condemn the regime which was, after all, making efforts to establish the rule of law as well as offering tempting opportunities for Western businesses. In so far as the prospect of a more democratic China figured at all in foreign policy considerations, it was seen as consistent with the open door policy pursued under Deng Xiaoping. Canada extended bilateral development assistance to China under the Liberal government, in 1980, and inaugurated a "China Strategy" under Brian Mulroney's Progressive Conservative government in 1987. In short, until 1989 China's human rights record was hardly an issue in diplomatic relations with Canada or with the West generally, nor was it a matter of partisan controversy in legislative debate. Only when confronted with pictures of protest and bloody repression on living-room television, screens did public opinion shift and activists and politicians mobilize. The fact that the military repression of June 1989 in Beijing was carried out in full view of the world press, and that it was followed in a matter of months by the collapse of the Soviet empire, changed the context in which China was viewed. The "China difference" now connoted negative, rather than positive, imagery. Nevertheless, the more complex image of Chinese society and politics conveyed by the protests at Tiananmen made a consistent policy towards the Chinese regime more difficult. The instinctive revulsion at the repression was tempered by an international policy consensus that the gates must not be allowed to shut and that China must not be sealed off behind the Great Wall.The policies of sanctions and condemnation adopted in June 1989 soon became indistinguishable from a policy of "constructive engage-

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ment.' The ambiguity in the initial posture virtually ensured that commercial interests would be accommodated and would, in time, achieve primacy. The reasons for the decline in Western resolve are not difficult to trace. They include: Ambivalence from the outset about the political consequences of isolating China economically. Even Chinese democracy activists warned against provoking China's leadership into shutting the "open door." (ii) The need to gain China's support on the Security Council of the United Nations. This was indispensable for the adoption of a settlement over Cambodia in August 1990; China's acquiescence, if not outright support, was also required in the months of coercive diplomacy leading up to the GulfWar. (iii) The worldwide recession beginning in 1991. This intensified competition for international market share among advanced industrial states, especially in the emerging markets of Asia. (iv) In July 1990, following the devaluation of the Chinese currency (the Renminbi or RMB), the Chinese economy experienced a spectacular boom. Deng Xiaoping's decisive approval of market reforms during a tour of the South in February 1992 promoted economic growth rates of 12 and 13 percent. This consolidated China's position as the world's third largest economy.

(i)

CANADA'S CHINA POLICY AFTER TIANANMEN

Canada's sanctions policy was announced in the House of Commons by Secretary of State for External Affairs Joe Clark on June 30, 1989.2 This policy was adopted after consultation with an advisory roundtable including experts, interest groups and non-governmental organizations (NGOs). The policy included cancellation of several cooperative programs and aid projects, a ban on high-level visits, as well as immediate steps to provide refuge for Chinese students in Canada who had participated in pro-democracy activities.The extent of economic sanctions was limited, and when Export Development Corporation (EDC) financing was extended to several Chinese

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projects in subsequent months, there was active criticism in the media. Nevertheless, partly at the insistence of Clark's successor at External Affairs, Barbara McDougall, the moratorium on high level visits and contacts was maintained into 1991.This lasted longer than most of the bans imposed by Canada's allies, a fact which Chinese officials indicated with irritation' Even before 1991, the desire to maintain "normal" diplomatic relations with China in spite of the sanctions policy resulted in a number of low profile ministerial and vice-ministerial visits between Canada and China. A real change was signalled in October 1991, when External Affairs Minister McDougall met with Chinese Foreign Minister Qian Qichen at the UN and announced that it was time to "rebuild relations."' That month the Minister of Agriculture, Bill McKnight, led a trade mission to China. The turning point in relations came in April 1992, with the visit to Beijing of International Trade Minister Michael Wilson together with twenty of Canada's top executives.' Despite the apparent warming of relations, human rights remained on the Canadian foreign policy agenda throughout the years of the Mulroney government. Agriculture Minister McKnight raised human rights concerns with Chinese vice-Premier Tian Jiyun, and received a sharp rebuke for his temerity.6 When Joe Clark led a high profile visit to China in March 1993, he again raised the human rights issue in meetings with Chinese officials.' However, Clark assumed the best about Chinese willingness to address the issue without dwelling on the underlying reality that the Chinese government remained unrepentant about the past.' Canadian interest in the Chinese market was stimulated in particular by the prospects of infrastructure development, especially in the area of telecommunications and of power production, including both conventional hydro and thermal power, as well as nuclear power. In this connection, the visit of Chinese Vice-Premier Zhu Rongji to Canada in May 1993 was significant. Zhu emphasized the potential for Canadian investment and exports in these fields, and, as China's top economic official, he spoke with a voice that commanded attention in China's faction-ridden bureaucracy.' By the time of Zhu's visit, the Conservative government was at the nadir of its popularity,

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and Canada's industrial heartland was suffering a crippling recession; human rights became a footnote to the agenda.' Some indication of the change in relations between the two countries can be gleaned from the fact that by the end of 1993 Chinese investment in Canada had outstripped Canadian investment in the other direction. The Canadian total amounted to only some $260 million, while the total invested by China in Canada amounted to some $378 million." Among high profile Chinese investments in Canada was the planned purchase of the Sydney Steel Mill (Sysco) by Minmetals." By the time the Conservatives left office, in October 1993, relations with China were more or less restored. The status quo prior to 1989 could not be recreated, simply because NGOs and interest groups concerned with human rights—and more recently environmentalist organizations—had become more active monitors of Canada's relations with China.These groups were interested not only in the fate of democracy activists, but also in potential Canadian involvement in such controversial projects as the Three Gorges Dam." Their efforts resulted in the abandonment of the Canadian International Development Agency's (CIDA) support for these projects, and ensured that efforts to improve relations with China would be accompanied by vociferous protest. THE UNITED STATES: LINKAGE AND PARTISAN POLITICS

United States President George Bush had retained strong views on the imperative of maintaining close ties with China ever since his posting by Richard Nixon to the Liaison Office in Beijing (the name of the U.S. diplomatic post until the United States broke off relations with Taiwan in 1978). The efforts by the Bush administration to maintain high level contacts with China soon after the Tiananmen Square massacre attracted widespread criticism in Congress and in the media. As early as July 1989 he dispatched his National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft to Beijing, and again sent him on a public mission in November 1989.The howl of protest this excited was only slightly moderated by the Chinese promise to lift martial law early in 1990. So began China's cat-and-mouse game, played out between

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Congress and the President. Each year the President had to certify Chinese improvements in order to renew China's Most Favoured Nation (MFN) status, in the face of opposition from key legislators committed to the cause of Chinese human rights, namely Representative Nancy Pelosi and Senate Majority leader George Mitchell. China, faced with losing its largest market, of course joined in this game; so did Hong Kong, where the governor, Chris Patten, himself under attack from Beijing over his modest efforts at democratizing the colony, nevertheless lobbied Congress in person, to avoid a sideswipe of Hong Kong's own entrepot trade. Bill Clinton, as Democratic candidate for the presidency of the United States, seized the opportunity to undercut Bush's acknowledged experience in diplomacy by hammering at his ambiguous response to China's human rights record. Upon gaining office, President Clinton, therefore, was constrained to put greater pressure on China and achieve visible results in the area of human rights.This stance appeared to commit him to preferring an explicit policy of linking trade with human rights over the renewal of MFN, and to engaging the Chinese government precisely in the area in which it was least likely to give way. Clinton's policy seemed predicated more on smoothing relations with the Democratic majority in Congress than on achieving diplomatic results from China. Clinton's trump card was the trade deficit the United States ran with China which, according to U.S. statistics (disputed by China), ran to over U.S. $30 billion, second only to the deficit with Japan. Another card in Clinton's hand was China's expressed desire to enter (or "re-enter" according to China) the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT). From the outset, there was a calculated ambiguity about the kind of results Clinton wanted from his China policy; progress on • trade issues became conflated with human rights progress and, in turn, the United States felt it could apply trade leverage to extract human rights concessions. President Clinton presented his policy on MFN renewal to Congress on May 28, 1993. Forestalling congressional efforts to legislate MFN conditions, Clinton issued an executive order setting seven specific areas for improvement as a condition for renewal in the following year.These included: a ban on exports of goods produced by

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prison labour; an end to the jamming of the Voice of America; the release of prisoners; improvements in Tibet; and an end to religious persecution, forced abortions and sterilization." The Clinton administration may have felt that its list was specific enough to show seriousness yet broad enough to allow China to respond incrementally, but that is not how the issue was viewed in Beijing. CHINA'S RESPONSES TO HUMAN RIGHTS INITIATIVES

The Chinese position with respect to the United States was characterized by the "four Nos": 1) China does not want confrontation with the U.S.; 2) China will not provoke confrontation with the U.S.; 3) China will not avoid confrontation if the U.S. wants it; and, 4) China is not afraid of confrontation with the U.S." China responded with a combination of threats to retaliate against U.S. trade (including such important U.S. exports as aircraft and telecommunications equipment) into which it mixed sporadic releases of known dissidents. Chinese leaders, moreover, were not pleased at having China's policies singled out at the UN International Human Rights Convention in Vienna. Instead of making wholesale improvements, China expelled some well-known human rights activists, such as the independent labour union organizer Han Dongfang, and released others to coincide with the decision in September 1993 on the location of the 2000 Olympics. However, China made it clear that it would not respond to a U.S. agenda or laundry list. The pattern of Chinese responses to hard-nosed human rights diplomacy shows a number of distinct features. Chinese authorities were not entirely unprepared for the emergence of human rights diplomacy. They were far more acutely aware than their Western counterparts of the ideological gulf between them and the West, and were actively, if inconsistently, engaged in battling Western cultural and ideological influence. The Chinese agenda was clear: to actively resist the imposition ofWestern norms and standards of human rights conduct, but to continue to engage Western governments in the interests of trade and investment. The policy had two components: making clear to Western governments and firms the economic cost of political confrontation; and insisting on the moral validity of

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China's practices and their conformity with international law Chinese authorities made carefully timed gestures to placate the West; yet, at the same time, they insisted that these gestures were gratuitous and spontaneous and in no way to be seen as responses to Western pressure. Indeed, conditioned by the legacy of the "unequal treaties" and a century of humiliation, Chinese leaders, confronted with direct pressure, were likely to respond with provocative gestures of their own. This was a lesson learned by three Canadian members of Parliament in January 1992. Beryl Gaffney, Svend Robinson and Geoff Scott visited Beijing and made publicized visits to the families of imprisoned dissidents, as well as stating their intention to visit Chinese prisons. While it is not clear which activity specifically provoked the Chinese authorities, the three MPs were suddenly and without warning driven to the airport and expelled.' Canadian reaction to this affair was not especially unfavourable to China: many saw the actions of the MPs as provocative and meddlesome. If the incident caused an awkwardness in bilateral relations in the short run, in the longer term the relative indifference of the Canadian public created an opening for a more positive turn in bilateral relations. THE CHRETIEN GOVERNMENT'S CHINA STRATEGY

By the time the Chretien government took office in Ottawa in October 1993, tensions in U.S.-Chinese relations had eased to some extent. The U.S. Undersecretary of State for Human Rights had completed a low key visit to Beijing, and the U.S. Trade Representative, Mickey Kantor, had completed an agreement with China to strengthen intellectual property rights, a major trade irritant in bilateral trade. Jean Chretien signalled the importance of the Asia-Pacific region to his government when he took the unprecedented step of appointing Raymond Chan as the very first Minister of State for the AsiaPacific region. This appointment was not only remarkable for the symbolism involved in appointing the first Chinese-Canadian minister, but also for the fact that Chan had initially become politically active in response to the ill-fated Chinese democracy movement in

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1989. Prime Minister Chretien's first diplomatic venture was to participate at the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit in Seattle in late November 1993.There he met with Chinese President Jiang Zemin.The new government had already decided that Chinese trade was an important target, and the trade minister, Roy MacLaren was eager to tap the Chinese market!' At the APEC summit, which U.S. President Clinton had planned in order to showcase his commitment to the economy and the Asia-Pacific region in the postCold War world, the Chinese rebuffed American meddling on human rights, and, as if to highlight the importance of trade with China to the U.S. economy, Chinese President Jiang visited the home of a Boeing worker, bearing gifts." In January 1994 Raymond Chan embarked on a trade trip to China. By his presence in the country from which he had been expelled three years earlier' Chan symbolized the Canadian government's own retreat from its policy of giving priority to human rights." Inaugurating Canada's new policy Chan also began a remarkable year which saw Canada mounting an extraordinary effort in China, including visits by the Governor General and the Prime Minister, as well as the Foreign Affairs and International Trade Ministers. The Prime Minister himself spelled out the priority in Canada's relations with China when he spoke to students at the University of Moncton in March: "we have never linked trade absolutely with human rights?' "I'm not allowed to tell the Premier of Saskatchewan or Quebec what to do.Am I to tell the President of China what to do?""I'm the Prime Minister of a country of 28 million. He's the president of a country of 1.2 billion?' "If I were to say to China 'we are not dealing with you anymore' they would say, 'fine? They would not feel threatened by Canada?' These were not simply off the cuff remarks by a politician used to shooting from the lip. The same sentiments were echoed by Foreign Affairs Minister Andre Ouellet, who stated explicitly that in the future Canada would raise human rights issues with China only in private. He saw this as part of a strategy of restoring bilateral relations with China to a proper high priority on Canada's foreign policy and trade agenda.' Shortly afterwards, International Trade Minister Roy MacLaren left on a mission to China, opening a new trade office in Guangzhou." The Chretien government dearly intended to aggressively

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pursue increased trade with China, and signalled its intentions by disavowing any linkage between trade and human rights. The timing of these events coincided closely with a meeting of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights in Geneva on March 9, where a draft motion censuring China was presented by the European Union. With the help of Cuba and India, which was also the subject of a motion concerning repression in Kashmir, China managed to shelve the motion through a procedural motion to "take no action."' That China is indeed sensitive to such censure can be seen from the fact that the Chinese Premier interrupted his annual speech on the work of the government to China's National People's Congress using the following words: I would like to tell you about a just received news dispatch. In a vote yesterday evening at the UN Human Rights Commission an anti-China motion raised by some countries met with failure once again.This shows convincingly that it is unpopular to attack China using the human rights issue.' PLAYING OFF THE AMERICANS

Prime Minister Chretien's remarks in Moncton on Canada's position on human rights in China closely followed U.S. Secretary of State Warren Christopher's ill fated trip to Beijing. The U.S. hoped to obtain commitments and gestures which would allow President Clinton to renew MFN without conditions. China prepared for the visit by taking U.S. reporters on a visit to the prison where the dissident Liu Gang was held." However, the Secretary of State's visit was poorly timed, coinciding as it did with the annual meeting of China's legislature, the National People's Congress. Christopher sought to pursue a human rights agenda at a time when the government was determined to achieve an image of monolithic stability. Angered by a meeting which Under Secretary of State John Shattuck held with the dean of China's dissidents, Wei Jingsheng, the Chinese sent Secretary Christopher home to Washington with little progress of which to speak.' In effect, the Chinese had called Clinton's bluff, arresting dissidents even as the U.S. team was still in Beijing. As Premier Li Peng

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stated, "China prefers MFN but can live without it?' With China clearly demonstrating that it would not back down, Clinton faced growing domestic pressure.' The reaction in Canada to Chretien's own shifts on China policy was relatively muted. Editorialists lamented the fact that Canada was forswearing its influence even before making use of it. "The best way for Canada to ensure that it will have no influence with China is to say it has no influence.'3D As a Globe and Mail columnist perceptively pointed out: Mr. Chretien's refurbished foreign policy will feature a new thirdoption tilt, this time toward the dynamic fast growing Asia-Pacific region and at the core of the Asia thrust will be the creation of some kind of special relationship with the emergent Chinese superpower. The alacrity with which Mr. Chretien and Foreign Affairs Minister Ouellet have distanced themselves this week from Washington's hard-nosed human rights stance towards Beijing certainly underscores the high hopes Ottawa has of playing its own China card in the process of reaping a lucrative trade payoff.' Chretien's shift was supported by the position of the provincial premiers, who themselves were eager to make deals with China. In the fall of 1993 Premiers Ralph Klein ofAlberta and Gary Filmon of Manitoba had led high-powered trade missions to China, followed by Premier Clyde Wells of Newfoundland in January.' Perhaps the biggest disappointment to human rights groups was the about-face on China by Ontario's Premier Bob Rae. Rae had been a vocal critic of the repression of the democracy movement and in 1991 had opened an international conference to support Chinese democracy, against the protests of the Chinese embassy. In May 1994 he led a delegation to China and echoed the Prime Minister's sentiments on human rights." Rae ignored appeals to raise specific cases of labour activists with the Chinese authorities.34

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THE DEFEAT OF THE UNITED STATES LINKAGE POLICY

As the Canadian trade assault was gathering momentum in late May 1994, U.S. President Clinton admitted defeat of his high-stakes policy on MFN.35 Despite the fact that the State Department report in February had detailed widespread Chinese human rights abuses,36 and that a Congressional report had cited the lack of progress on Clinton's human rights agenda," intensive pressure left Clinton with little choice.mAmong the sources of pressure were not only giant U.S. corporations, such as Boeing and ATT,39 but also Hong Kong Governor Patten. Renewing China's trading status for another year, Clinton stated that the U.S. would henceforth eschew the linkage of trade policy to human rights. Putting a brave face on an ignominious defeat, Clinton claimed that extending MFN would place relations in a "larger and more productive framework" and would permit cultural and educational contacts in addition to trade.' After the failure of Secretary of State Christopher's visit in March, there was little cause to celebrate. The only important gesture made by Beijing was the release in April of the prominent democracy activist Wang Juntao to seek medical treatment in the United States. Henceforth U.S. China policy, like its Canadian counterpart, would focus on commercial ties. In August, U.S. Commerce Secretary Ron Brown made a triumphant visit to Beijing, accompanied by 24 American CEOs. U.S. Companies signed over U.S. $6 billion in deals. Grateful for the turn of events, China even agreed to resume a human rights dialogue.' "TEAM CANADA" GOES TO CHINA

Chretien's focus on China involved a personal element: his relationship with the conglomerate Power Corporation,' a firm he served in an unspecified capacity during the years he spent outside Parliament. Moreover, Chretien and Paul Desmarais, CEO of Power, and honorary Chairman of the Canada-China Business Council, are in-laws. Andre Desmarais, Paul's son, is Chairman of the Canada-China Business Council, the organization which sponsored the corporate side of the "Team Canada" effort as well as the mass signing of contracts

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at its annual meeting in Beijing on November 8, 1994.This personal connection with one who is a leading player in Canada's economic relations with China and among the most prominent federalist Francophone business leaders, may have been an important influence on the Prime Minister's thinking.' Liberal Senator Jack Austin is the President of the Canada-China Business Council, and came up with the idea of staging a mass signing of contracts, following the example set during German Chancellor Kohl's visit to China in 1993. The dilemma faced by policy makers in both the U.S. and Canada was real. A major attraction of the Chinese market was in the area of infrastructure. Infrastructure development involves a high degree of official discretion, which Chinese authorities had made very clear they were willing to exercise. Partly for this reason, the Canadian government adopted what became known as the "Team Canada" approach for the Prime Minister's visit in November 1994.4'The visit involved a delegation which included provincial premiers in addition to the Prime Minister. The joint delegation of premiers was B.C. Premier Harcourt's idea. It was a highly unusual approach, particularly since a number of premiers had been to China within the previous few months. However, some of the projects proposed were directly related to provincial interests, such as the use of provincial power consortia for electric power development. Moreover these same projects would require federal project finance through EDC if they were to be successful. The newly elected Premier of Quebec, Jacques Parizeau, leader of the separatist Parti Quebecois, refused the invitation to become part of "Team Canada." Nevertheless, the other first ministers did join. This was the largest trade delegation in Canadian history. Nearly 400 business executives joined the Prime Minister on the tour of Beijing and Shanghai from November 5 to November 10. The commercial benefit of the Prime Minister's visit was not free of controversy.' Of the $9 billion in deals, only $2.6 billion was in the form of final contracts and some $3.5 billion was accounted for by the Memorandum of Understanding on the sale of two Candu reactors by Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd. Apart from the environmental concerns it raises, this sale is dependent on obtaining $2.5 billion of long-term financing from Canada." Some have objected that the

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Canadian government is subsidizing a questionable technological export. Other critics point to China's continued program of nuclear weapons testing and its alleged role in the transfer of nuclear technology as signs that it is an unsuitable partner for the transfer of nuclear technology, despite the assurances contained in the CanadaChina Nuclear Cooperation Agreement and China's adherence to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.' It is also worth noting that Premier Li Peng has close ties with the Chinese power generation industry, which he served both as a power plant director and as minister in charge. Moreover, the choice of Candu technology (which the Chinese had previously rejected) required that Premier Li Peng be reassured not only as to the merits of the technology (given an earlier commitment to pursue light water technology) but also with regard to the political reliability of Canada as a source for the longterm transfer of high technology' The other controversial commercial endeavour is the Canadian participation in the Three Gorges dam project, potentially the largest hydroelectric project in history and another undertaking with which Premier Li Peng is personally identified. Canada initially provided funds to conduct a feasibility project under CIDA, but withdrew from further participation because of pressure from environmentalists in 1990. Canada has now resumed participation by agreeing to provide EDC financing for a $35 million management services contract signed by Agra Industries of Calgary.' According to one EDC spokesperson, the government regards this project as "business as usual:' Other Canadian firms involved in the project have also approached the EDC for financing. Only B.C. Hydro has officially backed off from participation, reversing a position the Harcourt government took in 1993. • Before leaving for China, the Prime Minister did promise that he would raise the issue of human rights in his private meetings with Chinese leaders." The actual outcome of this encounter was immediately in dispute. Chretien, emerging from the meetings, assured reporters that the matter had been raised, but the Chinese hosts denied that any such discussions were on the agenda. Adding more mystery to the matter, Nova Scotia Premier John Savage also declared that he had not heard the topic of human rights raised at meetings where he was present, until he stood corrected by his first minister

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colleagues. It appears certain that, if the topic was raised, it was not in a form which required a direct Chinese response, such as a request to take action on a number of specific cases. Instead, it amounted to a statement of Canadian concerns, outside the framework of bilateral discussions. Prime Minister Chretien made the point that "genuine integration in the world economy will require increasingly a respect for the rule of law" and that "economic rights, prosperity and pluralism go together." In the next breath he reassured his hosts that "we do not come to China to impose ourselves or our institutions.' The manner in which Canada expressed its commitment to human rights in the bilateral relationship was through such efforts as training for Chinese judges and joint study of the meaning of human rights.52 By assuming this posture, Canada implicitly adopted the Chinese approach to human rights questions. China's official position, according to President Jiang Zemin, is that human rights "is a problem which in the final analysis belongs in the sphere of affairs of a country's sovereignty' By agreeing (at a very low level and to a limited extent) to engage in a "dialogue" on human rights, China reiterated the posture it had adopted, together with other Asian countries, in the "Bangkok Declaration" just prior to the 1993 United Nations Conference on Human Rights. While the "universality" of human rights was acknowledged, "they must be considered in the context of... national and regional particularities and various historical, cultural and religious backgrounds:' From this perspective it becomes almost impossible to pursue human rights as claims across national boundaries. At most, therefore, Canada could engage in explaining what human rights mean in the Canadian context, without touching on what human rights entail with respect to the behaviour of the Chinese regime on its own soi1.55 This kind of diplomacy denies the universality of human rights and its ineffectiveness is compounded by the policy decision of Chretien to commit Canada to vigorously pursue human rights only where Canada can claim influence. In practice this would imply that human rights are only another aspect of power diplomacy, hardly different from claiming that "might makes rights." When Canada does decide to take a stand, countries such as China could justly point out the hypocrisy of this self-serving exercise. To deliberately eschew human rights diplomacy in one arena on the

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grounds of expediency may undermine its effectiveness everywhere. Human rights in diplomatic relations with China becomes a complex game of "face." In the Chinese culture, face cannot only be "lost" or "gained!' It can also be lent, borrowed, or given. In March 1994 President Clinton failed in his effort to get the Chinese to "lend" him a little face with respect to human rights so that he could make good on his executive order on MFN. Certain Chinese leaders, most notably Premier Li Peng, who was personally implicated in the repression of 1989, have gone to extreme lengths to avoid embarrassing confrontations over human rights.' By agreeing in advance not to raise embarrassing questions in public, Prime Minister Chretien was, in effect, "giving" Li Peng some face, effectively enhancing the legitimacy of his regime. Perhaps the Prime Minister expected that this would establish a "special relationship" which would enhance Canadian business opportunities in China.' Any "credit" gained, however, comes at the expense of those Chinese who rely on the West to reinforce their moral claims against an intractable regime. CONCLUSION: THE CHRETIEN POLICY IN CONTEXT

The Chretien government's China policy is in many ways an extension of its domestic strategy.The emphasis on commerce to the exclusion of any high risk foreign policy is meant to rebuild a domestic consensus around common prosperity. The willingness to risk offending human rights groups and environmental activists shows that the government has already discounted their views in the process of forming a national consensus. Symbolic nuggets thrown in the direction of human rights in China and elsewhere in Asia are meant to reassure the general public that Canada has not departed from a traditional policy of liberal humanitarian internationalism, while avoiding any effort to satisfy the demands of activists. This policy is likely to prove popular, so long as the public perceives gains in employment and welfare (and not just profits for particular corporations). In support of its own approach, the Chretien government can point to the obvious failure of Clinton's policy of linkage. However, the Canadian government must earnestly hope that none of the commercial endeavours it has helped to sponsor will entangle Canada in an international scandal. In

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Beijing, Chretien expressed the hope that the kinds of international contact he fostered would change China in a positive way. Canada, however, will not risk commercial interests for the sake of promoting values. Even before the joint Parliamentary foreign policy committee was drafted the government rejected its recommendation that Canada link trade and human rights." The Canadian position falls short even of the actions taken by countries that enjoy a friendly reputation in China, for example, the human rights diplomacy undertaken by Canada's Commonwealth partner, Australia. Australia has dispatched two parliamentary delegations to China to investigate human rights conditions and has published two reports of its findings, one in 1991" and another just recently. France also sent a commission of jurists to investigate the structures and institutions for the protection of civil rights.' It is demonstrably possible to carry the human rights dialogue with China beyond the limits of the Canadian government's endeavours. There is no reason to believe that Australia carries any more weight with the Chinese authorities than Canada. Australia's approach consists of specific inquiry into China's own practices. In response to these pressures, China produced its own White Paper on Human Rights in 1991.61 A dialogue which focuses on specific abuses would engage the Chinese authorities directly in discussion on improving human rights. The Canadian approach amounts to a monologue on the importance of human rights to Canada rather than a serious exchange with China on the international significance of such rights. International pressure in the 1990s led to increased official and unofficial involvement of China in the field of human rights. The domestic publication of the Human Rights White Paper was accompanied by numerous official and unofficial studies and investigations of national and international human rights problems. In this manner, the protection of human rights could be seen as an indispensable aspect of modernization and the "open door"—China's principal policy line. China's leaders are extremely sensitive to questions of international stature and prestige. Linking human rights practices to China's international prestige has been rejected by Prime Minister Chretien as a means of influencing the Chinese authorities.

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The best that may be said about the Prime Minister's visit is that it represents a missed opportunity for human rights diplomacy. Business contracts have been encouraged or accelerated, but there is no direct evidence that any Chinese firm or organization entered any deal out of gratitude for 'the Prime Minister's soft-sell on human rights.The frank promotion of Canadian interests symbolized by the term "Team Canada" serves to enhance the Prime Minister's democratic appeal at home, while dismissing the concerns of democracy activists in China as a possible objective of Canadian policy. POSTSCRIPT

On December 16, 1994, just a month after the Canadian Prime Minister's visit, a court in Beijing handed down unusually severe sentences to a group of pro-democracy activists. The twenty-year sentences were the harshest given to intellectual dissidents in more than a decade, and even exceeded those inflicted on persons branded as "ringleaders" of the Tiananmen demonstrations. To critics of the Chinese regime, such as the Hong Kong director of Human Rights Watch/Asia, these sentences weaken any hope that relaxed pressure will encourage China to improve human rights on its own.' When, in the same month, the Beijing municipality demolished the world's largest McDonald's in favour of a new development (despite a 20year lease),Western investors were finally jolted into a swift appreciation of the rule of law...63

NOTES 1 This term was used by the United States during its efforts to promote change in the Apartheid regime in South Africa, efforts which the critics saw as ineffectual. 2 For more about Canada's response to Tiananmen see the author's "Rude Awakening: Canada and China Following Tiananmen" in Maureen Appel Molot and Fen Osler Hampson, eds., Canada Among Nations 1989: The Challenge of Change, (Ottawa: Carleton University Press 1990), 43-60. 3 Interview with Chinese Foreign Ministry official, May 1992.

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4

Globe and Mail, October 4, 1991.

5 External Affairs, Statement, April 10, 1992. 6 Toronto Star, October 24, 1991. 7 "Clark Placing Rights, Trade on Beijing Agenda," Winnipeg Free Press, March 24, 1993, A9. 8 "Clark Discovers Hard-line Truth," Globe and Mail, March 27, 1993 All. 9 "China Wants Canada to Increase Exports:Vice-Premier (Zhu Rongji) Cites Canadian Strengths:' Globe and Mail, May 20, 1993, B14;"NorTel Plans R&D in China: Zhu's Visit an Opportunity to Lobby for Expanded Trade:' Globe and Mail, May 21, 1993, B2; "Power play: Power Corp Expects Investments in Southam, China to Pay Dividends," Montreal Gazette, May 20, 1993, C17. 10 "Clark Raises Rights Record with Chinese Official,"Montreal Gazette, May 19, 1993, B8. 11 "The Great China Goldrush," Globe and Mail, November 15, 1994, B1. 12 "NS Steel May Appeal to China," Halifax Chronicle Herald, June 17, 1993, D10;"Sysco Gets Chinese Ultimatum," Globe and Mail, March 30, 1994, B3. 13 "Harcourt Damned for Linking B.C. to Chinese Project," Vancouver Sun, June 1, 1993, A7. 14 Susumu Awanohara, "Lukewarm Welcome," Far Eastern Economic Review, May 5, 1993, 13. 15 "Bluff and Bluster," Far Eastern Economic Review, March 17, 1994. 16 E. Kaye Fulton, "Forbidden Excursions: China Unceremoniously Expels Three Canadian MPs," Maclean's, January 20, 1992, 27. 17 "Liberal Policy to Push Trade with China, MacLaren Says," Toronto Star, November 15, 1993, Bl, B6. 18 "China Rebuffs Clinton on Human Rights Record," Japan Times, November 22, 1993, 1, 3. 19 "Raymond Chan's Journey Home: Three Years after Being Expelled from China, Canada's Asia-Pacific Minister and MP for Richmond Returns to His Roots?' Vancouver Sunjanuary 15, 1994, Bl. 20 "Liberals Depart from Human-rights Link: Trade More Important, Minister Says," Vancouver Sun, December 22, 1993, D2. 21 Edward Greenspon, "Canada Can't Sway China on Rights, PM Says: Lack of Influence Cited as Chretien Presses on with Plans to Forge Trade Links." Globe and Mail, March 19, 1994, Al, A2.

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22 Le Devoir, March 17, 1994, A2; Jeff Sallot, " Canada Tries Balancing Act with China." Globe and Mail, March 22, 1994, A5. 23 News Release, no. 54, March 19, 1994; News Release, 59, March 29, 1994; "Chinese Trade Ties Canadian Priority, MacLaren Asserts;' Financial Post Daily, March 29, 1994, 8. 24 "India, China Escape Censure by UN Rights Committee," Globe and Mail, March 10, 1994, A9; "Western Anti-China Draft Rejected." Beijing Review, 32 no. 12, March 21-27, 1994, 32. 25 Jan Wong, "China Moves to Counteract Instability," Globe and Mail, March 11, 1994,A1-Al2. 26 Jan Wong, "China Trying to Put on Kinder Facer Globe and Mail, March 4, 1994, All. 27 "China 1, America 0," The Economist, March 19, 1994, 37-38. 28 Jan Wong,"China and U.S. Headed for Clash over Trade Status," Globe and Mail, March 14, 1994, Al. 29 "The Rites (and Wrongs) of Spring: Even Chinese Dissidents Think Bill Clinton's Threat to Lift MFN is Crazy" Newsweek, 123, no. 13, March 28, 1994, 30. 30 "Speak Softly and Carry a Small Stick," Globe and Mail, March 28, 1994, Al2. 31 Giles Gherson,"Looking Eastward for a New Twist on an Old Trudeau Theme;' Globe and Mail, March 23, 1994,A20. 32 "Klein Wants Piece of China's Boom," Financial Post Daily, November 12, 1993, 38; "Chinese Market Ripe for Manitoba Firms: Trade, Investment Mission Opened Doors: Filmon," Winnipeg Free Press, November 18,1993, A5; "Wells Woos China," Daily Commercial News, January 31, 1994, 9. 33 "Rights,Trade not Tied, Rae Says: Selling is Goal of China Trip," Globe and Mail, Metro Edition, May 24, 1994, Al, A13; "Don't Link China Trade to Human Rights: Rae," Toronto Star, May 29, 1994, A3. 34 Personal communication at a conference on Human Rights in China, held in Ottawa on the occasion of the 5th Anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre, in June 1994. 35 Amy Borrus and Joyce Barnathan, "China's Gates Swing Open," Business Week, June 13, 1994, 52-53. 36 Carl Goldstein, "Jerky Movements," Far Eastern Economic Review 17, February 1994, 20. 37 Goldstein, "Jerky Movements." 38 "Waving the 'Stick' at China is Futile," Aviation Week and Space Technology 140, no. 12, March 21, 1994, 68.

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39 Tim Clark, "U.S. Marketers Work to Secure MFN for China," Business Marketing 79, no. 5, (May 1994), 1, 45. 40 "China Welcomes MFN Renewal," Beijing Review, no. 6-12, June 1994, 6. 41 "Ron Brown's 'Lovefest' in Beijing;' Business Week, September 12, 1994 42 "The Powering Force of Paul Desmarais;' Financial Post, v. 88 (22), May 28/30, 1994, S16-517; Power Corp to Offer Cable TV in China (Annual Meeting), Financial Post, v.88(21), May 21/23, 1994, 3; "Power Corp Shops China Investments with $2b Cash," Toronto Star, May 21, 1994, C2; "Power Plays China Hand: Paul Desmarais has Finally Capitalized on 20 Years of Contacts in China withTwo Major Deals, and He's Looking for More;' Globe and Mail, March 4, 1994, B1, B15. 43 Paul Desmarais did not put his eggs in any one basket. See "Mulroney Gets Credit for Power-Barrick Link," Financial Post, February 3, 1994, 19. Characteristically the deal was sealed during the Chretien visit. "Barrick Power to Develop two Chinese Gold Mines," Globe and Mail, November 21, 1994. 44 See, for example, Alan Freeman, "Why Our Political Leaders Have Gone into Sales," Globe and Mail, Friday, November 4, 1994. 45 See, "PMO Overstated Many China 'Deals' Ontario Companies Say," Financial Post, November 24, 1994, 5; "China Deals Aren't Always Done;' Globe and Mail, November 11, 1994, B1. 46 "Solid Contracts May Still Be Long Way Off," Financial Post, November 24, 1994, 5. 47 "Prime Minister Chretien and Chinese Premier Li Peng Sign Nuclear Cooperation Agreement," Press Release, Office of the Prime Minister, November 7, 1994. 48 This information was compiled from conversations with Chinese and Canadian officials in November 1994. 49 Ross Howard, "Grits Reversed Stand on Dam:' Globe and Mail, November 15, 1994, A4. 50 Ross Howard, "PM to Talk to Chinese about Rights," Globe and Mail, October 22, 1994, Al; Ed Broadbent, former federal leader of the New Democratic Party and president of the Montreal-based Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development, published an open letter to the Prime Minister and the provincial premiers, urging them that "while democratically elected politicians have an obligation to promote trade, they have an obligation intrinsic to their very vocation, to promote human rights and democracy." See Ed Broadbent, "Economic Miracle Has Little Value when Human Rights are Trampled." The Edmonton Journal, October 31, 1994.

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51 "Speech by Prime Minister Jean Chretien at the Canada-China Business Council Dinner," Office of the Prime Minister November 8, 1994, 4. 52 See "Prime Minister Chretien and Chinese Premier Li Peng Sign Development Co-operation Agreement," Press Release, Office of the Prime Minister, November 7, 1994. 53 Jiang Zemin, "Jiakuai gaige kaifang yu xiandaihua jianshe bufa duoqu you zhongguo tese shehuizhuyi shiye de gengda shengli." (Speech to the 14th National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party), October 12, 1992, Qiushi 21, 1992, 17. 54 Susumu Awanohara,"Vienna Showdown," Far Eastern Economic Review, June 17, 1993, 17. 55 The Chinese position on human rights has not always been consistent. China has been prepared to criticize others for their human rights record when this has been part of a Third World consensus. Thus for example, China had no scruples about condemning the Apartheid regime in South Africa. See Andrew Nathan, "Human Rights in China's Foreign Policy" (forthcoming). The China Quarterly; see also, Ann Kent, Between Freedom and Subsistence: China and Human Rights, (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1993), esp. Ch. 1, "China and the International Law of Human Rights," 1-29. 56 "German Protests Anger Chinese PM: Offended by Human Rights' Activists, Li Peng Refuses to Visit Brandenburg Gate and Cuts Short a Visit to City of Goethe," Vancouver Sun, July 8, 1994, Al2. 57 Incidentally, the invitation to visit Germany was extended to the Chinese Premier as part of Chancellor Kohl's effort to lend the Chinese leader some face during Kohl's 1993 visit to China, arguably the first of such political-commercial extravaganzas. 58 Jeff Salott, "Linking Trade, Human Rights Urged." Globe and Mail, November 16, 1994, A1, A6. 59

Report of the Australian Human Rights Delegation to China, July 14-26, 1991 (Canberra: Department of Foreign Affairs, 1991).

60 La Mission de juristes francais, Justice repressive et droits de l'homme en Republique Populaire de la Chine, (Paris: October, 1991), cited in Kent, Between Freedom and Subsistence, 218, n. 103. 61 State Council Information Office, Human Rights in China, (Beijing: November 1991). 62 Rod MicIdeburgh,"Chinese Court Hands Dissidents Lengthy Prison Sentences," Globe and Mail, December 17, 1994, A9. 63 See, for example Thomas L. Friedman, "China Syndrome." New York Times, January 8, 1995, E19.

South Africa: Transition to Transformation

DOUGLAS G. ANGLIN

No transformation without transition; no transition without transformation. Chris Hani

The most notable development of the intense past year in Africa, and arguably of the previous decades of decolonization, was the South African "miracle"—the successful resolution of the most intractable conflict on the continent.The negotiated revolution that culminated in the peaceful transfer of power from an entrenched racist minority to a democratic majority constituted a truly extraordinary achievement of historic proportions. Its uniqueness marks it out as one of the great triumphs of the human spirit. That this unprecedented display of magnaminity on the part of the oppressed

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majority and of realism by a privileged minority, long accustomed to commanding a monopoly of power, should have occurred in South Africa makes it all the more remarkable. For most whites, Nelson Mandela's total absence of bitterness and genuine commitment to reconciliation were quite incomprehensible, and certainly not what they had expected or privately feared they deserved. POLITICS OF TRANSITION

By mid-1993, the process that culminated in democratic elections the following April was just beginning to gain momentum. Much of the previous year had been spent trying to get the negotiations back on track after the collapse of the all-party Convention for a Democratic South Africa (CODESA). In April 1993 the Multiparty Negotiating Process, comprising twenty-six parties operating on the basis of an undefined "sufficient majority," came into existence. In June, in the course of its deliberations, two decisions were taken that provided the context for the complicated and confused conflicts that gripped the country over the next ten months. These were, first, the setting of the date of the election at April 27, 1994 and, secondly, in protest against this action, the withdrawal of Chief Buthelezi's Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), based in KwaZulu-Natal, and the white right-wing Conservative Party (CP) from the negotiating forum. The conflicts that came to dominate the South African political scene were played out at three interrelated levels: between the National Party (NP) government and the African National Congress (ANC); between these two major actors and the Freedom Alliance (FA) comprised of conservative parties, both black and white, opposed to the impending changes; and among disparate interests and organizations on the streets and in the black townships. Thus, although the government and the ANC were locked into a fierce battle over constitutional issues and later as the chief contenders in a crucial election, they were at the same time compelled to work in close collaboration. Not only were they both committed to ensuring that the constitutional negotiations succeeded and that the elections were held, they also had a shared (though not identical) interest in

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meeting the formidable challenge posed by the Freedom Alliance, which was engaged in a desperate rearguard action to preserve apartheid privileges. This symbiotic relationship between the ANC and the ruling National Party is the clue to much of what transpired over the next year. Despite the legacy of bitter struggle and deep distrust, each of these antagonists relied on the support and survival of the other to achieve its bottom line—majority rule in the case of the ANC and a share of power in the case of the NP. If there was to be a negotiated settlement, it could only come about as a result of a deal between these two parties. They were the only parties prepared to negotiate. Like it or not, they were fated to sink or swim together. The politics of reconciliation co-existed uneasily with the politics of confrontation. Reconciliation Negotiations reached a decisive turning point in November 1993 with agreement on a constitutional accord. This pact was the product of elite accommodation among members of the Multiparty Negotiating Process. Despite the disparate character of the membership of this forum—many of them had dubious claims to popular support—it was nevertheless the most representative body of South African political opinion ever to assemble. Originally comprising twenty-six parties, interest groups and governmental authorities, its numbers were reduced by the self-exclusion of initially two and ultimately five members which subsequently came together under the broad umbrella of the misnamed Freedom Alliance. The remaining members were informally organized into two groupings. A majority were basically supportive of the ANC and accepted its leadership, while the rest were loosely allied under the NP banner. Inevitably, many of the most intractable issues were referred to the ANC and the NP to resolve bilaterally, a practice the Freedom Alliance complained of bitterly. The principals—Nelson Mandela and State President EW. de Klerk—did not participate directly in the day-to-day deliberations of the multiparty forum. Nevertheless, their presence was powerfully felt, not only initially, in the launching of the process, but subsequently in maintaining its momentum.

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Mandela's distinctive contribution was to recognize, when still in prison, the need to seek a negotiated settlement. While he remained convinced that the armed struggle had been justified, he had come to realize that "military victory was a distant, if not impossible, dream."' In any case, he feared that by the time victory was achieved there might be little left of the country or its economy worth inheriting. Also crucial for the ultimate success of the negotiations was Mandela's transparent sincerity and generosity of spirit. His acute sensitivity to the pain felt by those facing the prospect of inevitable change led him to go out of his way to help them to feel less threatened by the future. De Klerk had been chosen president on the basis of his safe conservative views.Yet, once in office, he quickly realized that apartheid as a policy was bankrupt. He was less concerned with the injustices and suffering it inflicted on Africans than with its consequences for Afrikaners. Far from being the promised prescription for salvation, maintenance of apartheid would likely prove suicidal for his people. De Klerk also had the foresight to see that Mandela offered Afrikaners an alternative to disaster. Moreover, having once committed himself to a process of negotiation, de Klerk persevered on that path even when the going got tough. Initially, he had hoped that the NP would share power equally with the ANC on the basis of joint decision making.Yet, when this proved unattainable, he pressed ahead nevertheless, dragging an increasingly sceptical National Party behind him. It was de Klerk's demonstrated courage, faith and realism in guiding white South Africa along a new and unknown path that earned him the right to stand alongside Mandela as a recipient of the 1993 Nobel Peace Prize. Neither one alone could have achieved what both together succeeded in doing. A third person who, in a somewhat different way, made a critically important contribution was the late Joe Slovo, Chairman of the South African Communist Party (SACP) and the "devil incarnate" in the eyes of many whites. For him, the cherished prize was political power; everything else was potentially negotiable. Consistent with his ranking of priorities, he advanced the imaginative suggestion of a government of national unity during a transitional period of five years.2 This proved to be the key to resolving the constitutional deadlock.

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In addition, Slovo's radical credentials enabled him to counter critics who were quick to denounce the coalition arrangement as a sellout. The comrades in the township in particular found the concession bewildering. Their understanding of the purpose of the liberation struggle was to rid the country of the hated "Nats," not to get into bed with them. The Constitution Act was not formally enacted by the existing (white) Parliament until January, 1994. Subsequently, it was amended in important respects several times prior to the elections in April, when it officially came into force. Nevertheless, the agreement in November on the constitutional accord effectively marked the point of no return in the transformation of the apartheid state into a working democracy. The achievement of this historic accord was greeted with widespread national rejoicing. Few South Africans, black or white, had dreamt that a mutually acceptable settlement was within their grasp. Under it, the white minority (represented by the NP) agreed to the holding of democratic elections and, implicitly, the inevitability of Mandela as president. As one measure of the progress this represented, it need only be recalled that, a few years earlier, the prospect of a black president was regarded by most whites as the ultimate calamity. Now, it was surprisingly non-controversial except among the lunatic far right. In return, the black majority undertook to include the minority in a Government of National Unity, which would operate on the basis of consensus decision making for a maximum of five years. Governments of national unity were installed at the national and provincial levels only after the elections. Up to that time, a unique system of diarchy prevailed nationally, with the NP government and a multiparty Transitional Executive Council each exercising political power—sometimes in conflict, more often cooperatively.With the precise division of responsibilities ill-defined and the parties increasingly absorbed in a bitterly fought election campaign, it took conscious effort to ensure that this novel expedient functioned effectively. The Transitional Executive Council (TEC) formally came into existence at the end of 1993, with essentially the same membership (including both the National Party and the NP government) as the Multiparty Negotiating Process. It heralded a radical change in the

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way in which government business was conducted in South Africa. Although the de Klerk government remained in office with its powers formally undiluted, its authority over a range of issue areas was curtailed in practice. The TEC encroached on it in two important respects. First, the TEC had substantial legal powers to demand information from the government, to investigate aspects of government activity, and even to veto certain actions of ministers and officials. In addition, it commanded considerable political influence. Although none of its twenty members was democratically elected—and only four of the parties succeeded in electing anyone to the National Assembly—it could daim greater legitimacy than the government, which was rooted in racialism. That made it difficult for the government to ignore the TEC. No longer was it politically possible for ministers to take unilateral decisions on many important policy matters without consulting TEC members. Although, technically, TEC jurisdiction was restricted to issues directly or indirectly related to the elections, in practice its mandate was interpreted more broadly, even by the government which frequently sought its support and legitimacy for its own initiatives. As a result, the Council was often overwhelmed by the number, variety, and complexity of the problems inflating its agenda, many of them marginal to its central concerns. These were to create and promote: (1) "a climate for free political participation in a democratic society;" and (2) "conditions conducive to the holding of free and fair elections:* In pursuing these objectives, the TEC operated mainly through its seven functional subcouncils. Its one major weakness was its inability to enlist the support of members of the Freedom Alliance. Resistance The Freedom Alliance (FA) was a mariage de convenance among conservative black and white groups that had worked within and benefited from the apartheid system, and were now concerned to perpetuate their power and privileges. Five organizations were involved: two of the nominally independent bantustans (Bophuthatswana or "Bop" and Ciskei, led respectively by Chief Lucas Mangope and Brigadier. Oupa Gqozo), Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi's Inkatha Freedom Party (MP), the pro-apartheid Conservative Party (CP)

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headed by Ferdinand Hartzenberg, and the Afrikaner Volksfront (AVF), itself an umbrella organization embracing a number of rightwing movements including Eugene Terre'Blanche's neo-Nazi Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB). Although Hartzenberg was also AVF chairman, the moving spirit behind the party was General ConstandViljoen, a popular and respected former chief of the South African Defence Force (sADF). What united FA members was their fierce opposition to the impending political changes in the country, and a fanatical determination to use every means at their disposal, including violence, to prevent the implementation of change—beginning with the elections. Although each organization had its distinctive political manifesto, the common denominator was a commitment to a high degree of decentralization of power and to the inherent right of peoples to self-determination, including independence for the bantustans and an Afrikaner volkstaat.The most immediate FA demand, however, was for postponement of the elections pending acceptance of its sweeping demands. While not all the ensuing violence can be attributed to the Freedom Alliance, a good part of it was clearly instigated and orchestrated by FA units or their agents. Much of it was in the nature of armed propaganda, with little attempt to deny responsibility.This was the case with the brazen armoured car assault on, and occupation of, the Multiparty Negotiating Process headquarters in June 1993. Neither the ANC nor the NP government could ignore the FA challenge. If the FA boycott were carried through it would jeopardize the legitimacy of the forthcoming elections and the proposed government of national unity.Worse still, the ability to hold any elections that were credibly free and fair was placed in doubt. The situation was the reverse of that prevailing elsewhere on the continent, where typically the threat to democratic elections came from an incumbent regime clinging to power. In South Africa, it was the government, along with the ANC, that had an interest in free and fair elections, and the FA opposition that was resolved to create such conditions of chaos as to render free and fair elections impossible. In responding to this threat, the government and the ANC frequently worked in close concert or at least in parallel. Their common

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objective was to entice as many FA parties as possible to register as their opponents in the election. To achieve this goal, they sought to buy the individual FA members off with sweeping concessions. On the whole, the strategy worked, though the political price paid to ensure a peaceful election was high, and has still not been fully paid. In the case of the "independent" homelands, which relied heavily on Pretoria's subsidies, a policy difference did develop between the ANC and the government. The former favoured simply pulling the financial rug out from under these puppet regimes, while the latter wanted to maintain firm control of the process of change. In the event, the "Bop" government was toppled in March, 1994, in a confused state of turmoil following upon a popular uprising leading to a breakdown of law and order. This situation precipitated an invasion by three rival armies—two of them private—an outbreak of unrestrained looting, and the takeover of the territory jointly by the government and the TEC. Ciskei's military dictator quickly read the writing on the wall and decided to join in the elections (in which, predictably, he failed to win a single seat). Controversy over participation in non-racial elections created disarray in the ranks of the white right. For a majority of hardliners led by Hartzenberg, opposition was a matter of conscience. However, GeneralViljoen and a group of ambitious CP parliamentarians had no intention of relegating themselves to the political wilderness. Accordingly, after suffering a series of humiliating defeats within the CP and the AVF, they founded the Freedom Front (FF) and entered the elections.They were supported in this action by the ANC and NP which undertook to give serious consideration after the elections to "the idea of self-determination including the concept of a volkstaat," provided the FF could demonstrate "substantial proven support" for it.' This it claims to have done by winning 2 percent of the vote nationally (or an estimated one quarter of the Afrikaner electorate), and over 6 percent in three of the provinces. Of all the committed spoilers, Chief Buthelezi was undoubtedly the most difficult to coax on board, since his ultimate objective was to prevent elections from being held at all. Not only was he uncertain of his popular support, he also feared that an ANC government might cut the huge subventions which he had been receiving in

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return for collaborating with the apartheid regime. Besides, he was extraordinarily ambitious, ruthless and intransigent, qualities that had enabled him to extract major concessions in negotiations without giving up much in return. Successive efforts to appease him proved counter-productive, as he treated each fresh offer as an invitation to demand more. In the end, Buthelezi overplayed his hand. The momentum propelling the country towards elections could not be checked. Moreover, whatever residual international sympathy remained for him was fast slipping away. The fiasco of the Henry Kissinger-Lord Carrington mediation mission in mid-April was the last straw. With the media pronouncing his political obituary,' the Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini showing signs of impatience, and increasing frustration among moderate IFP members, Buthelezi was finally persuaded to draw back. A bare week before the elections, the ANC and the government once more came to his rescue with additional substantial constitutional concessions and innovative arrangements to enable the IFP to participate in the elections at that late date.' Their motivation for bending over backwards to accommodate the IFP and rehabilitate Buthelezi politically was clear. The stark alternative was continued bloodshed, with every likelihood that the holding of free and fair elections would prove impossible. This unexpected reprieve caused the nation to breathe a profound sigh of relief. Competition

The last-minute entry of the IFP into the elections transformed the character of the campaign.Whereas up to that point security had been the overriding concern, now it was the administrative capacity of the Independent Electoral Commission (MC) to conduct the operation. The announcement of the election date in June 1993 had produced a swift escalation in political violence. Politically related deaths in July were more than double the June toll, with the jump in the Pretoria-Witwatersrand-Vereeniging (Pwv) area (now renamed Gauteng) nearly fourfold. Over the next seven months, a gradual decline in the death rate set in but, in March 1994, as the election campaign intensified, it again more than doubled.This situation continued until the IFP decision to join the contest, when there was an

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immediate, dramatic and revealing drop in the daily toll from 18 deaths to 12. "Violence levels plummet" proclaimed the headline in the Star! In May, figures for politically related deaths were down 60 percent compared with April, with the greatest decline (70 percent) in KwaZulu-Natal. Had the IFP not abandoned its boycott, it is doubtful if the security forces could have maintained a semblance of peace sufficient to ensure "substantially free and fair" elections in KwaZulu-Natal and on the East Rand.The proclamation of a limited state of emergency in KwaZulu-Natal at the end of March, and the earlier declaration of eleven PWV magisterial districts as "unrest areas," had little effect on the level of political violence. The National Peacekeeping Force, formed only in January out of disparate armed formations in the country, turned out to be, almost inevitably, a tragic failure. It was unrepresentative, inadequately trained and ill-disciplined.' That left hopes for electoral peace in the hands of the South African Defence Force (SADF) and the South African Police (SAP), long perceived as instruments of apartheid. Both organizations were making conscious efforts to win public confidence—with some success, especially in the case of the SADF. Nevertheless, the SAP in particular suffered from being seriously understaffed by international standards. How well the security forces could have coped with a really major challenge is uncertain. Fortunately, the limits to their resources, competence and loyalty were never fully put to the test. In a country without a tradition of political tolerance, even in past white elections, there were inevitably breaches in the admirable code of conduct to which all political parties were required to subscribe. Initially, parties experienced considerable difficulty campaigning in opposition strongholds, and were completely excluded from many "no-go" areas. The right of the National Party and even the liberal Democratic Party to hold rallies in Soweto and on the Cape flats was widely disputed. The ANC also encountered intimidation from both white and black groups. However, following action by the IEC in imposing exemplary penalties and initiatives by party leaders to educate their supporters, the dimensions of the problem greatly diminished.Verbally, however, the campaign was hard fought, even bitter at times. At one stage, Mandela accused the NP government of using

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"murder as a method of rising to political power;' while the NP charged the ANC with being a communist wolf in sheep's clothing.' The Independent Electoral Commission (IEC), composed of eleven distinguished South Africans and five international experts (including Ron Gould, Assistant Chief Electoral Officer, Elections Canada), was given a free hand to organize and conduct the country's first democratic elections.The one thing that it could not change was the election date—that was immutable. This time constraint made the IEC's task impossible. It meant that it was given a mere four months to establish a network of national, provincial and district offices and over 10,000 voting stations, and hurriedly staff them with over 200,000 officials. Almost all of these officials were inexperienced, some were unqualified, inefficient or incompetent, and a few were dishonest or disloyal. Moreover, the IEC was saddled with a complicated electoral system. Ten elections were held simultaneously—one national and nine provincial ones—under a sophisticated system of proportional representation (PR) requiring each party to submit up to nineteen different lists of candidates. As there was no registration of voters and individuals were free to vote anywhere in the country (or in 80 centres around the world), it was impossible to estimate the turnout at any one voting station. To complicate matters, the Electoral Act was subject to frequent amendment, the last occasion being only one day before the elections. Initially, for the sake of simplicity, it had been decided to have only one ballot, and to count it twice—once for the National Assembly and a second time for a provincial legislature. To appease the smaller parties, including the IFP, it was agreed to have separate ballots for the national and provincial elections. This required the IEC at a late stage to print ten separate ballots instead of one, acquire larger voting stations, and double its order for equipment and voting materials. In the interests of inclusiveness, "final deadlines" for party registration or the submission of candidate lists were repeatedly postponed. So flexible did the IEC become—for sound political reasons—that it even allowed the IFP to register a week before the voting was to take place, and after 80 million ballots had been printed. Not only did this mean panic ordering of IFP stickers which were then affixed to

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the ballot papers at the time of voting, but 500 additional voting stations in hostels and other previously "no-go" areas had to be located, equipped and manned. Two problems in particular very nearly brought the whole operation crashing down: the distribution of voting materials, and the counting procedures. With respect to the former, although there was circumstantial evidence of some deliberate efforts at sabotage, the major factors were sheer incompetence and irresponsibility, often on the part of former Department of Home Affairs officials. As a result, thousands of voting stations opened hours or even a day or more late. Security concerns account for the decision to have counting take place at special counting centres. The danger of armed attacks on voting stations by IFP militants or of right-wing commandos hijacking ballot boxes was considered too real to risk. What was not anticipated was that, in the process of transferring the ballot boxes to the counting stations, utter confusion would result. As the days passed and the announcement of election returns was delayed, public disquiet mounted. So potentially explosive did the situation become that the IEC abandoned the legal requirement to complete the process of "reconciling" votes before commencing the count. This breach of the Electoral Act was justified on the compelling grounds that the end justified the means: the national interest demanded that the public be told the outcome of the elections as soon as possible.' When challenged on the legality of his action, Judge Johann Kriegler, IEC chairman, simply said: "Let's not be squeamish." A less critical problem, but in the circumstances one that was still serious, was the discovery that a hacker had tampered with the computer totals. The only option was to discard the sophisticated computer technology that had been installed at great expense and revert to manual methods of recording the count. To conclude the catalogue of calamities that befell the IEC, evidence mounted of massive electoral fraud in Natal and, to a lesser extent, in the Transkei. At one point, as a gesture of reconciliation, the ANC and the IFP appeared ready to resolve their election cornplaints through negotiations. This cop-out the IEC rejected. Instead, the Commissioners settled for rough and ready decisions based on

ANGLIN 199 their best judgments. Thus, in one counting station in the Eastern Cape, where 30 ballot boxes were found to have been forcibly opened, 50,000 votes were deducted from the votes of competing parties in proportion to the share of votes they had received. This and other actions to deal with cases of serious voting irregularities enabled the IEC to satisfy itself that all ten elections had, in terms of the Act, been "substantially free and fair."" The United Nations and the other intergovernmental observer groups confirmed that the outcome of the elections "reflects the will of the people," though they declined to certify them as "free and fair."" Nevertheless, what was remarkable was not that the IEC encountered grave problems but that the election administration did not collapse completely." Not only did the IEC feel able to certify the results of the elections, but the parties themselves were prepared to accept the results. By sheer good luck, each of the three main parties could claim impressive victories, and consequently could live with the successes of others. The NP could relish its convincing majority in the Western Cape (with 55 percent of the seats), and its strong showing in the Northern Cape and the PWV. The IFP's unexpected victory in KwaZulu-Natal (with 51 percent of the seats)—however achieved—helped compensate for the party's poor performance elsewhere in the country. The ANC too was content, receiving over 62 percent of the votes and carrying seven of the nine provinces. Mandela admits that some members were disappointed that the party fell short of the constitutionally significant two-thirds majority, but adds: "I was not one of them. In fact I was relieved; had we won two-thirds of the vote and been able to write a constitution unfettered by input from others, people would argue that we had created an ANC constitution, not a South African constitution. I wanted a true government of national unity"" Only in KwaZulu-Natal was there real unhappiness in ANC ranks and, even there, the party managed to suppress its sense of bitterness (with some difficulty) in the wider interest of national reconciliation. Although both the ANC and the NP enlisted the services of high-priced foreign media and election consultants, in terms of its professionalism the NP campaign was the more polished. (This did

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not prevent the party from indulging in dirty politics, even racism, when it suited its purposes.) The organizational superiority of the NP was scarcely surprising in view of its decades of experience in managing and manipulating elections. NP propaganda focused on four main themes: first and foremost, de Klerk's personality and international prestige; second, the party's supposed wealth of experience in government in comparison with the inexperience of ANC neophytes; third, the alleged communist domination of the ANC; and finally the assertion that the NP was a new party ("We have made the change"). Not only did it insist that it had turned its back firmly on its past, but it had the audacity to claim credit for purging the country of apartheid. The projection of an image of a "New National Party" evoked a positive response among the so-called Coloured (persons of mixed race) in the Western Cape and Northern Cape, but elsewhere shedding the baggage of apartheid was not so easy. Memories of NP oppression were too recent and too vivid. Much of the electoral success of the ANC can be attributed to Nelson Mandela's personal magnetism and to the record of the party in the liberation struggle ("We did it"). Also, it offered the most comprehensive reconstruction and development program of any of the parties." Despite this, its performance in KwaZulu-Natal was disappointing. Electoral irregularities are obviously part of the explanation, but less so than is commonly assumed. Overconfidence, poor organization and, above all, the intervention of King Zwelithini in support of IFP were also significant factors.As Mandela frankly admitted, even allowing for the vote-rigging, "We had underestimated Inkatha's strength." Of the other sixteen parties that contested the national elections, only four elected any members. All suffered from the circumstance that this was a "liberation" election. Many people who might otherwise have supported minor parties voted strategically, at least nationally. In most cases, these parties performed better provincially. The Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) and the Democratic Party (DP), both of which expected to attract more support, can lay part of the blame on their ill-conceived campaigns. So disastrous was the DP campaign that the party received even fewer votes than it had in the previous white election in 1989.

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POLITICS OF TRANSFORMATION

Chris Hani, the respected general secretary of the South African Communist Party (SACP), captured the essence of ANC strategy in a dictum, shortly before his assassination in 1993 at the hands of the white right: No transformation without transition. No transition without transformation. His argument was that, in the circumstances of South Africa, there was no possibility of bringing about the radical transformation required in a society still bearing the legacy of apartheid without enduring a period of transition during which political power would have to be shared with the architects of the majority's misery. But, equally, the trauma of transition could only be tolerated if it did, in fact, ultimately usher in a transformed South Africa. The transition pact was a necessary means to the attainment of a genuinely new South Africa, not an end in itself. It did not set limits on the reforms to be pursued, as many in the National Party persist in believing. The April elections and the inauguration of Nelson Mandela as the country's first democratically elected president on May 10, 1994 completed the first and easier stage of the transition. The new government now faced the much more daunting task of translating its promises of real change into concrete policies. As Mandela explained: "...we are not yet free; we have merely achieved the freedom to be free, the right not to be oppressed. We have not taken the final step on our journey, but the first step on a longer and even more difficult road....The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.' Predictably, the attempt to maintain the momentum of change needed to complete the process of transformation encountered fierce resistance, and the final outcome is still problematical. Almost immediately, the transition pact came under severe strain. This was evident at three levels: within the coalition cabinet, within the parties to the coalition, and among the population at large.

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Government by Consensus The transition constitution, with its entrenched provisions for a government of national unity (GNU), is an inherently difficult system to operate. Each of the political parties gaining at least 5 percent of the popular vote-10 percent in the case of the provincial governments—was entitled to a proportionate number of seats in the cabinet.Thus, former President de Klerk became a Deputy President, and NP members received five other ministries, among them Finance. Similarly, three posts went to the IFP, including Home Affairs, which Chief Buthelezi headed. A comparable situation in Canada would see a cabinet with Preston Manning (leader of the Reform Party) as Deputy Prime Minister, Reform Party nominees in the Finance portfolio and several other ministries, Lucien Bouchard (leader of the separatist Bloc Quebecois) as Minister of Intergovernmental Affairs, and a number of other key posts in the hands of each of the "opposition" parties. It was a recipe for paralysis, especially as the constitution specified that the cabinet was to function "in a manner which gives consideration to the consensus-seeking spirit underlying the concept of a government of national unity as well as the need for effective government."' The task of reconciling these competing criteria provided an additional source of conflict. Did consensus decision-making accord NP ministers a veto over policy? Inevitably, the system has repeatedly appeared on the point of collapse. That it has somehow managed to survive successive crises is a tribute to the determination of most members of the cabinet—Mandela and de Klerk in particular—to make it work. What has kept the ship of state afloat, if not always on course, is the recognition that there is no salvation in abandoning ship or sailing on alone. In any case, NP ministers have grounds for satisfaction at their success in whittling away at the core of the ANC's action program. This is evident in the way the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) has been recast to appease business interests and promote reconciliation. As one informed business analyst observed, following publication of a White Paper on the revised RDP, the economic debate in South Africa, since 1990, has "turned on the relative priorities of redistribution or economic growth.What is clear from the White Paper is that government has come down

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solidly in favour of growth. It has embraced the formula that there can be no redistribution without growth."' Why has the ANC, with its massive popular support, proved so accommodating? Some ANC leaders may have been persuaded of the merits of conservative economic arguments or, at least, of the need for prudence in view of the current parlous state of the economy. More important, the presence of the NP in the GNU offered some assurance that the inherited civil service would cooperate, that the security services would remain loyal, that the "hard right" would be kept in check, and that capital outflows would be reduced. Moreover, the success of the GNU would be a test of the ANC's policy of reconciliation. Reconciliation is a matter of faith with Mandela. "I saw my mission," he records, "as one of preaching reconciliation, of binding the wounds of the country, of engendering trust and confidence?"20 Unfortunately, not all his colleagues and supporters are equally committed. Nor was de Klerk who, in the dying days of his presidency, surreptiously rushed through decrees granting indemnity to two of his most compromised cabinet ministers and over 3,500 police officers, including many of the most senior and suspect members of the force. This undercut multiparty agreement on establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to investigate politically motivated crimes committed in the name of apartheid. While there was a consensus that the country had an obligation to future generations not to bury the ugly truth about apartheid in the interests of reconciliation, no one wanted a witch-hunt. However, major disputes arose over whether confessions of crimes should be heard in private, whether names and not just the crimes should be made public, and whether those guilty should be subject to prosecution. Once again, the NP got the better of the arguments, a result that has outraged human rights groups who contend that amnesty should be granted only for deeds that are known and acknowledged. As Archbishop Tutu explained, "We want to know whom we are forgiving, and for what." Another looming confrontation that is taxing the fragile unity of the cabinet concerns the drafting of the new constitution. In the preliminary skirmishes, devolution has emerged as the most critical issue in dispute, with the NP calling for a "strong federation" (that is, strong

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provinces) and the IFP demanding something reminiscent of "sovereignty association" for KwaZulu-Natal. Although the official ANC position is to minimize the degree of devolution, it will be hardpressed to maintain even the status quo. All the parties are bound by constitutional principles agreed to in advance of the elections. These provided for "appropriate and adequate" provincial powers.' Moreover, while the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) is national, its implementation will be largely the responsibility of provincial and local governments. Most significant of all, the seven provincial governments with ANC majorities are already behaving like typical provincial governments. Even before they were fully established, several of them were clamouring for increased powers and tax resources. Party Tensions While the conflicts that erupted in cabinet were highly visible, the rumblings of discontent within the various parties were, in some respects, more ominous. A fundamental premise of the transition pact, arrived at by elite accommodation, was that the leaders were capable of carrying their constituents with them. Since the elections, the ANC and the NP have found this task increasingly difficult. Previously, party members were confused and sceptical but trusting. Now, the automatic support of the members can no longer be taken for granted. The troops are restless. The wisdom of the compromise formula of a government of national unity (GNU) is being openly questioned. Many NP party stalwarts apparently thought they had won more concessions than they actually had. Instead of being joint managers of the country, they found themselves junior partners. Each incremental change the ANC introduced reinforced their fears that they were losing control. Accordingly, they took their frustrations out on de Klerk, whom they accused of being too passive. He, in turn, indulged in periodic public outbursts of anger at the ANC. Among ANC cadres, disillusionment with the GNU set in quickly, once it was realized that the ANC was merely in office, not in power. Although many other constraints exist on its freedom of action, these have tended to be overlooked and, instead, criticism has been focused

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on the GNU itself Moreover, the party has still not made the mental transition from a movement "steeped in a resistance mode" (Mandela) to a party of government. Unlike elsewhere on the continent, many members are persuaded that the ANC must maintain its independence from even an ANC-dominated government. This led to the ANC provincial premier of the Orange Free State being deposed as leader of the provincial party. The frustrations of the party faithful came to a head at the ANC's 39th national conference in December 1994, with a marked shift of support to militants in the elections to the National Executive Committee. As was evident in some of the ANC's provincial party election results, a reputation for too great a devotion to reconciliation (with whites) proved not to be an electoral asset.22 High among the concerns of the ANC delegates were the constitutional guarantees of security for civil service jobs, pensions, property and farms. Accordingly, the party leadership has been instructed to make creative use of affirmative action to speed up a radical transformation of the public service, the courts, the police and army, and the media—all traditional white institutions. "Until we transform the state machinery as a whole into a loyal instrument of democracy," the resolution read, "transfer of power to the people will not be complete:' Particular attention was given to restructuring the Public Service Commission and putting it under political control, if necessary by amending the interim constitution. Support was also expressed for restricting job preference to Africans, not all blacks— perhaps in response to the electoral support some so-called Coloureds gave the NP. There was also unhappiness with the pace of integration of the various armed forces. The intention had been to dissolve the existing forces—the South African Defence Force (SADF), the four homeland armies, and the liberation movements, principally the ANC's Umkhonto weSizwe (MK)—and to create a new South African National Defence Force (SANDF) in their place. Instead, little more than the name has been changed; the SADF has effectively absorbed the others. Moreover, until recently, the whole process has been handled clumsily and with little sensitivity, even by the new MK generals. The lively debates within South African political parties suggest that a realignment of political forces is underway. The ANC, as an

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umbrella movement, embracing a broad range of political opinions, is especially vulnerable to fission. No longer is apartheid the unifying focus in the struggle. Already, the ideologues (and opportunists) with their various agendas—Africanist, socialist, populist among others— are seeking to capitalize on the troubles the party has encountered in fulfilling its promises. The mainly white parties are also experiencing strains as they attempt to adapt to the new political realities. Across the whole political spectrum, the division that is emerging is between those who accord priority to policy and those for whom the process remains the critical issue. Public Response It can be claimed that, whereas millions of blacks fully expected the elections to usher in the millennium overnight, many whites complacently assumed that little or nothing would change, at least not quickly. Certainly, whites faced the future with remarkable equanimity, or at least resignation. Nevertheless, the uncertainty did generate a good deal of unease and stress.Then, with the outcome of the election, a profound sense of relief set in, as well as a feeling of pride at the ease with which they had managed to take in their stride a black president, communists in the cabinet, a new flag, and Nkosi sikelel'i Afrika as the national anthem along with the Afrikaner hymn Die Stern. Inevitably, the mood of confidence is beginning to wane as changes—especially integration of the schools, affirmative action in the civil service, and the proposed restoration of land to victims of forced removal—begin to impinge on the lives of white citizens, and as they come to realize that Mandela may not be immortal. Still, a surprising number of whites appear committed to seeing the course through. "We have come this far," they are saying. "There can be no turning back now" Equally remarkable is the almost total eclipse of the far right, at least for the moment. Mad schemes to establish an Afrikaner volkstaat by military force have been shelved in favour of the uncertain prospect of constitutional negotiations. The local government elections planned for October 1995 will no doubt revive interest, especially as the Conservative Party has decided to participate this time. Nevertheless, the movement for Afrikaner self-determination

ANGLIN 207 no longer has the momentum it had a short year ago.'' The same cannot be said of KwaZulu-Natal, where Chief Buthelezi's inordinate ambition has, if anything, grown as a result of the IFP's surprise success at the polls. Moreover, his fury reached new heights, following the unexpected decision of King Zwelithini (with ANC encouragement) to assert his independence. Currently, the two pillars of Zulu society are locked in a deadly struggle for the allegiance of traditional leaders. Here, Buthelezi's utter ruthlessness gives him the edge. He has also reverted to boycott tactics, pulling his IFP MPs out of parliament (though not yet out of the cabinet).Whether intransigence will prove as politically profitable as it did prior to the elections has yet to be seen. Meanwhile, politically inspired factional fighting in the black townships has resumed. Overshadowing all these issues is the mounting concern that the reasonable demands of the black majority have yet to be adequately addressed.The release of Mandela from prison in February 1990 aroused public expectations of instant, dramatic improvements in the miserable conditions of the masses. The ANC successfully held popular pressures in check by saying that the ANC must first win the elections. During the intervening four years, virtually nothing happened to change the lot of most blacks. If anything, the quality of their lives deteriorated. Despite this, they showed remarkable patience. Then, with the advent of the elections, people were once more warned not to expect early, substantial change. Few believed their leaders. Now President Mandela has had to confess to the residents of an informal settlement (squatter camp): "I have not been able to bring you the things I promised you before the election...and I might not be able to bring you good news for next year and the year after that. Don't expect us to do miracles.' The patience of the people has reached the point of exhaustion. Admittedly, the constraints on government are real. The available resources are "extremely limited" (Mandela), and sharp differences of opinion exist on how to maximize them. Yet the question remains, who will secure access to whatever limited funds are available? Will they be absorbed in salary increases (however justified) for those already privileged to hold jobs, or will they be used to meet the basic

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needs of the most disadvantaged, especially in the rural areas? Who will constitute the target group for the multimillion rand housing program: the emerging petit bourgeoisie or the destitute residents of informal settlements? Who will be the beneficiaries of affirmative action? How South Africans respond to these and other concerns will profoundly affect, not only the lives of the deprived majority, but the social cohesion of society, and particularly the level and character of domestic conflict. Already, there are signs of a widening gap between those members of society who are fairly comfortable, better organized and politically effective and those who are badly off, poorly organized and politically marginalized, though increasingly the distinction is based on class rather than race. Archbishop Tutu struck a sensitive nerve in government when he quipped irreverendy that the nation's new leaders, after promising to derail the "gravy train" so characteristic of the apartheid regime, had merely stopped the train long enough to get on. Unless effective measures are taken to deal with the prevalence of poverty and despair in the country, the outcome of South Africa's promising democratic experiment may be a subject of some doubt. The need for reconciliation to "heal the nation" remains as great as ever. The list of seemingly insuperable challenges confronting the divided government is so formidable that it would be easy to conclude that the attempt to combine radical reform with racial reconciliation is fated to fail. Certainly, the transition to transformation is not and will not be smooth or assured. The possibilities for conflicts are too numerous. Nevertheless, South Africa has demonstrated that it can command remarkable resources of the human spirit. A broad band of opinion exists across racial lines which, while conscious of the sobering realities, is convinced of the compelling need to succeed, is committed to making the necessary effort, and is confident that success is attainable. Here, South Africans have a great deal to teach Canadians about ranking one's political priorities, about tolerance in the face of deeply felt differences, and about accepting the inevitability of change. Faced with the awesome alternative, South Africans have discovered a shared love for their country, and have shown a willingness to pay the price to preserve it.

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NOTES

This chapter is a revised and updated version of the South Africa section of my chapter on "Conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa" in Albert Legault and John Sigler, eds., Les conflits dans le monde, 1993-1994 (Québec: Centre quebecois de relations internationales, 1994). It is published here with kind permission of the editors. 1 Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela, (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1994), 457. 2 Mandela, Long Walk, 528. On Slovo's death from cancer, Business Day (Johannesburg), January 9, 1995, eulogized him as "the mastermind behind much of the innovative planning to emerge from the multiparty talks....[t]he true needs of his country were always paramount in his reckoning." 3 "Transitional Executive Council Act," no. 151 of 1993, sec. 3. Republic of South Africa, Government Gazette 15184 (October 27, 1993). 4 "Accord on Afrikaner Self-Determination between the Freedom Front, the African National Congress and the South African Government/National Party," April 23, 1994, 3. 5 Editorial: "Guilty as charged," Business Day, (Johannesburg), April 15, 1994, 6. 6 "Memorandum of Agreement for Reconciliation and Peace between the Inkatha Freedom Party/KwaZulu Government and the African National Congress and the South African Government/National Party," Pretoria, April 19, 1994.

7 Star (Johannesburg), April 21, 1994, 1. 8 Douglas G. Anglin, "The Life and Death of South Africa's National Peacekeeping Force,"Journal of Modern African Studies, 33, no. 1 (March, 1995), 1-32. 9 Star,January 20,1994, 3; Sunday Times (Johannesburg), March 27, 1994, 23. 10 Business Day, May 2, 1994, 6. 11 Judge J.C. Kriegler, SABC-TV broadcast, May 6, 1994. 12 May 5, 1994, UN doc. S/1994/717, June 16, 1994, 30. 13 Yunus Mahomed, "The IEC: Inexperienced, Yes. Inept, No," Weekly Mail & Guardian (Johannesburg), June 10 to 16, 1994, 13. 14 Mandela, Long Walk, 539. Consensual politics has deep roots in African traditions.

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15

The Reconstruction and Development Programme: A Policy Framework (Johannesburg: ANC, 1994).

16 Farouk Chothia, "Mistakes and Omissions Cost ANC the Natal Vote", Weekly Mail & Guardian (Johannesburg), May 13 to 18 1994, 15; Blade Nzimande, "What Went Wrong in Natal?," African Communist, 137 (Second Quarter 1994), 38-46; Mandela, Long Walk, 539. 17 Mandela, Long Walk, 544. 18 "Constitution of the Republic of South Africa Act," no. 200 of 1993, sec. 89(2), Government Gazette, 15466 (January 28, 1994). 19 Denis Worrall, "The RDP in Perspective," Perspectives on South Africa, (Ottawa: South African High Commission, December 1994); White Paper on Reconstruction and Development: Government's Strategy for Fundamental Transformation, (Pretoria, September 21, 1994). 20 Mandela, Long Walk, 540. 21 Constitution of the Republic of South Africa Act, Schedule 4, XX. 22

Southern Africa Report (Johannesburg), 12, no. 48 (December 2, 1994), 1-2.

23

Weekly Mail and Guardian, December 23, 1994 - January 5, 1995, 3.

24

SouthScan (London) 9, no. 47-48 (December 16, 1994), 369.

XI Economic Reforms and Political Democratization in Mexico: Reevaluating Basic Tenets of Canadian Foreign Policy

RICARDO GRINSPUN, NIBALDO GALLEGUILLOS & RICHARD ROMAN

C

anada's official approach to Mexico's affairs appears to be guided by a single-minded, narrowly focused, purpose. Both the former Conservative government and the current Liberal administration base their approach on excessive optimism about the economic gains that might accrue to Canadian corporate business in the short run. In this chapter, we discuss some alarming social and political developments taking place in Mexico, which we see as resulting from the strongly neoliberal economic orientation that has guided the last two governments and that is likely to persist with the inauguration of the new President, Ernesto Zedillo. We argue that, in light of past and recent events in Mexico, Canada should not actively support the current strategy because it is not likely to bring about significant long-term benefits for most Mexicans or Canadians. We suggest the need for an

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alternative Canadian foreign and trade policy which responds to a broader set of interests in Canada and that is based on a deeper understanding of the complex patterns of social, political and economic development in Mexico. The Canadian corporate world perceives Mexico to be both a good place for investment in the areas of finance, banking services and communications and a relatively sizable market for the consumption of some Canadian goods.The Canadian government has actively supported its corporate sector's inroads into the Mexican economy by strongly pushing for economic integration between Canada, Mexico, and the United States. This effort contributed to the framing of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) among the three countries which became operational on January 1, 1994. To a large diplomatic contingent in the country, the Canadian government added a large Trade Office in Mexico City in the fall of 1994. Canada's shortsightedness arises from an inability to weigh the consequences that Mexico's pursuit of radical economic liberalism is having on that country's social fabric and polity. This, in turn, may affect Canadian interests in the not-so-distant future.' The lessons of the 1982 debt crisis in Mexico do not appear to have been learned by Canadian decision makers: a deep social and economic crisis can drive away foreign investors and close business opportunities, literally, overnight.' Recent developments in Mexico, such as the emergence of a guerrilla organization in the Chiapas region, the increasing popular awareness of the manipulation of electoral results through political clientelism and fraud, and the growing radicalization of civil society and of grassroots organizations which demand greater democratization, point to a new scenario of instability and unrest quite different from the traditional view of Mexico as a predictable and stable society. One of the sharpest debates in Canada during the negotiation and ratification of NAFTA was on the likelihood that such an agreement would promote a more open and democratic political system in Mexico. The opinions differed widely. The official view, generally shared by supporters of NAFTA, argued that the best way to encourage political stability and democratic advances in Mexico was through the consolidation of economic reforms which had been

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undertaken in earlier years, the promotion of further economic liberalization, and a greater integration into international markets. A contrasting position, shared among others by social scientists, developmental organizations, labour representatives, and anti-NAFTA advocates, was that NAFTA would have the opposite effect, by creating further social tensions, by strengthening the discretionary role of the President, and by insulating a "well-behaved" Mexico (at least, as seen by the international financial markets) from external criticism of its flawed democratic practices. The present chapter will, in its first substantive part revisit this debate, with the hindsight permitted by recent Mexican developments such as the Chiapas uprising and the August 1994 federal elections. Rather than focusing on the specific impact of NAFTA, it will emphasize the impact of the neoliberal economic regime (that NAFTA helps to consolidate) on the democratic process. The general conclusions will shed doubt on any linear relationship between economic and political liberalization and will offer serious lessons for Canadian policy toward Mexico and the rest of Latin America and the Caribbean. The next part of the paper discusses the effects of economic and social restructuring on the urban working class and the potential for political or other types of urban resistance. The following section addresses the rural crisis, highlighting active mobilization, the Chiapas uprising and the legal changes to the ejido institution, the traditional communal landholding system. The final substantive section discusses recent electoral processes, the question of democratization, and Canadian attitudes towards them. The conclusion raises further issues regarding Canadian foreign policy towards Mexico. THE ONSLAUGHT AGAINST URBAN LABOUR

The new economic orthodoxy which has shaped Mexicans' lives since the 1982 crisis has contributed to a fundamental alteration of the labour market and the distribution of income and wealth. The Achilles' heel of this new strategy is its inability to create enough employment, thus promoting structural unemployment and a notable decline in labour's income and in the economic and political

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influence of labour unions. The austerity programs, union-busting privatization, and the general recession of the economy have led to a significant rise in unemployment and underemployment, a dramatic reduction of real wages, a shrinking of the already limited social net (in scope and spread of coverage), and a further limitation of the bargaining power of trade unions. There are two dominant features of the Mexican labour market that explain why depressed real wages remain the norm. The first one is the inhibiting effect on wages that results from widespread disguised unemployment. This unemployment derives from both demographic trends and economic restructuring. The demographic source is obvious: Mexico's population continues to grow at such a fast rate that every year about one million people enter the economically active population.' The Mexican economy needs to create one million jobs every year just to keep pace with population growth. The monetarist macroeconomic policies, supported by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank, and their correlates in terms of deregulation, privatization, and trade liberalization, have depressed the economy and destroyed many jobs both in the industrial and the rural economy. Since Mexico has no effective unemployment insurance, people must work, and for the most part they find some type of part-time occupation in the "informal" service sector. Official statistics showing open unemployment at about 3 percent do not reflect the reality of the Mexican economy. Estimates indicate that about one-quarter of the Mexican labour force is in a disguised state of unemployment, precariously eking out a living at the margins of formal markets.' This bleak employment situation stands in sharp contrast to that of earlier times, when industrial employment was booming. The era of the "Mexican miracle" during the 1950s and 1960s witnessed a significant growth of investment and of industrial employment, with cities absorbing both migration from the countryside as well as natural urban population growth. In contrast, the 1980s and early 1990s have seen declining investment and stagnation in industrial employment and, in some of the older industrial centres, an actual decrease in industrial jobs. Large number of jobs in import-substituting, domestically oriented industrial sectors have been lost. These sectors

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could not withstand the combination of recessionary macroeconomic conditions and a shrinking domestic market, the inability to access credit (resulting from high interest rate policies), the elimination of government subsidies, and the surge of cheap imported goods (due to trade liberalization, leading first to accession to the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), and next to NAFTA implementadon).This combination of forces has meant that, while the rate of urban growth has continued, the ability of the urban labour market to absorb surplus labour has declined sharply. The second factor explaining the behaviour of Mexican wages has to do with the institutional framework of the labour markets and the larger set of economic and political forces at play. The Mexican labour movement is closely controlled by the official party and state institutions. The Mexican state (through, for example, a sequence of "social contracts" or patios de solidaridad) played an active role in recent years in lowering labour costs, as a way of achieving and maintaining international competitiveness. If that did not suffice, the Mexican state resorted to more authoritarian measures. Some spectacular examples support this contention, such as the violently repressive role of the government in the 1992 Volkswagen strike.The state's impact is not always so transparent but it is pervasive and widespread, as can be seen from the recent efforts to substantially alter the provisions of labour laws and Article 123 of the constitution which had traditionally protected workers. NAFTA, by increasing the mobility and rights of transnational capital, has contributed to this power imbalance and has shifted the constellation of forces against an already debilitated trade union movement. Not surprisingly, the lowering of workers' incomes was accompanied by attacks on collective contracts; these were generally perceived as obstacles to the maximum and most flexible utilization of labour. These attacks took a variety of forms, but their common purpose was to further weaken labour and cheapen its cost. Privatization was preceded by various moves aimed either at breaking a trade union or at abandonment of the old collective agreement. At times, companies were declared bankrupt and then reopened without the old union or collective agreement; on other occasions factories were closed down and then relocated without the old workers, unions, and collective

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contract.Yet again elsewhere the official union leaders colluded with management and government to lower wages and make the allocation of labour more flexible from a management perspective. Maquiladorization was one method of lowering the wage bill and increasing management's discretionary authority over labour. Maquilas were initially set up by agreement between the United States and Mexican governments in border regions for in-bond production, where part of the U.S. production process would be contracted out to a Mexican plant with cheaper labour costs, but the product would have to be re-exported (duty-free) back to the United States.The maquilas also came to represent techniques of labour control, a means of lowering the wage bill, and de facto exemption from labour law provisions. In 1989, the government of Mexico extended the maquila status to companies in Mexico which had under-utilized capacity, with the requirement that part of their production be directed for export only. The impact on the real wages of workers has been dramatic. Average real wages in 1990 were still more than 40 percent below their 1981 level.' At the aggregate level, the share of wages and salaries in national income decreased from 35 percent in 1982 to 26 percent in 1988.6 Whereas the living standards of workers (as well as those of many professionals, small business people, and other middle strata) declined precipitously, wealth at the other end of the social spectrum has reached unprecedented levels of concentration. Just one indicator suffices here: Mexico now ranks as the fourth country in the world in number of billionaires (households with a net worth in excess of one billion U.S. dollars). The offensive against workers' livelihood has met with opposition from workers, but their resistance has remained largely fragmented, localized, and subject to repression by the government, capitalists, and labour officials. The combination of Mexican labour laws, which allow tri-pirtite Boards of Conciliation and Arbitration to declare strikes illegal, with the integration of most labour leaders into the official sector of the ruling party, has made resistance very difficult. Violence perpetrated by the government, the companies, or strongarmed men from the official unions has also been a tool used to break resistance to these changes.The relatively muted responses of workers

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to this deterioration of wages and working conditions has to be seen within this institutional context; it is also conditioned by the disorganization of the working class resulting from the relocation of jobs, the growing insecurity of employment, and the growth in unemployment. The absence of genuine, independent unions in most industrial sectors, an absence actively perpetuated by the government-sponsored unions that operate in various ways to restrain the activity of the working class, renders organized resistance to these changes very difficult. The situation could, however, change. The influence of trade union leaders tied to the official party has been diminishing, as the government has shifted from corporatist mechanisms of control of the working class to neoliberal methods of busting and bypassing unions. The inability of official union leaders to deliver gains for their members has weakened their position as intermediaries between workers and the regime. Thus, these labour leaders have lost efficacy as agents of social control.This weakening power of the traditional labour leadership, accompanied by a severe deterioration of living standards, would suggest the likelihood of an upsurge of spontaneous or disorganized protest. The striking decline in real wages caused by the financial crisis and devaluation of the peso in December 1994 may well trigger a growing mobilization of"independent" labour groups.' Political and social developments in Mexico hinge upon the question of whether the urban working class, faced with a continuing deterioration of living standards, will continue to be relatively passive or will emerge as a political actor.What happens will be conditioned by several factors: whether or not the government moves forward with significant changes to labour law and to Article 123 of the Constitution;' whether wage and employment conditions improve to any extent; and whether the opposition parties manage to channel the discontent. The working class would have to respond politically and organizationally to the ongoing reorganization of the labour markets, establish effective independent unions to resist such policies, and develop alternative economic perspectives. Some important seeds for such developments can be found in efforts to organize independent labour unions (such as the Authentic Labour Front, or FAT) and political movements such as the Mexican

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Network Against Free Trade (RMALC), but at this stage they remain marginal players. Their effort is geared to channelling local resistance and discrediting the official Confederation of Mexican Workers (CTM), in anticipation of an explosion of workers' activity and the creation of a new independent trade union movement. Previous attempts at developing an independent and democratic labour movement have been contained, but with much repression. Any new explosion of independent workers' activity and government's repression would now take place in the context of a Mexico that would be far more visible to the rest of North America and the world.' CRISIS IN THE COUNTRYSIDE

Mexican economic and social turmoil has gained a hold on the rural economy as great as—or even greater than—its grip on the urban sector. Fiscal restraints and free market ideologies have coalesced into the policies of the last decade: withdrawal of administrative protection, shrinking credit availability and technical assistance, elimination of price guarantees, and the disappearance of other government programs that supported small agrarian producers, at a time when surging imports of cheap basic grains were biting into these farmers' share of the domestic market. A major policy step was the dramatic change in the ejido landholding system, promoting the growth of an export-oriented agribusiness sector with close links to large U.S food corporations. These policies threaten the continued existence of the rain-fed, small-scale agrarian sector, and drive hundreds of thousands to migrate to Mexican or U.S cities. Those small and medium peasant landholders that remain on the land do so under conditions of decapitalization and a huge debt burden, with dangerous social and environmental implications. Mexican neoliberal agrarian policies came about through the combined efforts of government technocrats, large Mexican corporate capital allied to transnational capital, the World Bank, and the U.S. government. All contributed to the formulation and implementation of a policy that will radically change the traditional ejido land tenure system. Part of the strategy developed was aimed at overcoming the anticipated resistance to these changes. When, in 1989, technocrats

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first proposed changes to agrarian law, there was much resistance, even in the ranks of the official party (Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI). Ultimately this resistance disappeared, as the World Bank used its leverage through financial aid conditionality and the United States government applied its own pressure, in the midst of the NAFTA negotiations, to push for the required constitutional changes. The nature of the required ejido reforms was spelled out as early as February 1990 in a World Bank document." This paper suggested reforms in the ejido land tenure system that would later be enacted by the Mexican government in the change to Article 27 of the Constitution passed in early 1992, legalizing the leasing of ejido lands, allowing the sale of parcels internally, and permitting both the leasing of, and private investment in, commons. The World Bank had even envisioned the need for a gradual strategy, recommending not the direct abolition of ejidos—as this would provoke too much resistance—but measures that would undermine them. In mid-1991, the Secretary of Agriculture and Hydraulic Resources and the Secretary of the Treasury and Public Credit submitted a letter of intent to the World Bank stating the conditions for a large loan.This letter was the antecedent of the reform ofArticle 27 calling for elimination of institutional rigidities and new schemes of production that would attract greater investment. In addition, there are a variety of indications that the secret talks between the United States and Mexico in regard to NAFTA involved an understanding that Mexican land would be opened up to U.S investors (particularly the large food transnational corporations) interested in establishing agro-maquila operations in Northern Mexico." The final ingredient for the constitutional change came through as a result of the widely questioned 1991 general elections, in which President Salinas gained a larger than needed congressional majority which allowed him to amend the Constitution at will. The agrarian policies promoted by President Salinas are premised on the notion that the ejidos are necessarily unproductive organizations which discourage individual initiative. In fact, most ejido land is farmed individually with some lands, such as pasture and woods, being managed communally. The juridical form of the ejido, however, protects the ejidatarios from losing their lands. The changes to

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Article 27 facilitate the losses of these lands through a variety of mechanisms.' These legal procedures, applied in the absence of financial supports for the ejido sector, would foster the disappearance of ejidos and their replacement by agribusiness. The social consequences of the processes described are a vast encouragement of rural migration to the cities, cities in which there . already is a great lack of employment, housing, health, and schooling programs. For those who remain, the increase in the landless rural population will depress the wages of rural wage earners below their current near-starvation level.The human consequences of these policies are starkly brought home by government studies revealing severe malnutrition among children in the countryside as well as infant mortality.The number of children under five years of age in the rural sector who suffered from severe malnutrition went from 7.9 percent in 1979 to 15.1 percent in 1989.13 Furthermore, the proportion of total preschool infant mortality due to nutritional deficiencies increased sixfold, from 1.5 percent in 1980 to 9.1 percent in 1990." The severe social toll is the result of policies that have favoured export-oriented agricultural development over subsistence or production for local markets. Thus the "modernization" of Mexican agriculture has made Mexico more dependent on food imports and has further impoverished the rural population." These policies and effects predate the revision of Article 27 and the adoption of NAFTA. The role of NAFTA is to consolidate this policy orientation through an international treaty, which reinforces the impact of the constitutional change. The rural poor have not responded passively to the iniquitous consequences of neoliberal policies for their communities. Most peasant and indigenous organizations have protested against the revisions to Article 27 of the Constitution. They have called on the government to respect and deepen the social contract with the agrarian sector embedded in this Article, whose establishment goes back to the Mexican Revolution. An alliance of peasant and indigenous organizations put together a counter-proposal to the government's plan. Even important sectors of the official party's rural base have opposed these changes. It was, however, the Zapatista rebellion in Chiapas, on January 1, 1994, that gave dramatic expression and political direction to the sim-

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mering rural discontent. The Zapatistas specifically cited NAFTA and the changes to Article 27 as part of the assault on the standard of living of the rural population and called for the reversal of both. They insisted that only a new and democratic government could carry out true reforms, and called the Salinas administration undemocratic and unrepresentative of the rural and indigenous population. The Zapatista movement had significant reverberations throughout Mexican society, and in particular among the rural sectors. Its spectacular insurrection, including the remarkable orchestration of an international mass media frenzy, posed a direct challenge to the hegemonic argument of the regime that there was no reversing the neoliberal transformation of Mexico, and that the new global realities required that Mexico "open itself to the outside world" or be shunted aside.The Zapatistas strongly rejected this myth of inevitability, posing a huge threat to the integrity of the PRI regime and its radical policy program. Many peasant and indigenous groups supported the demands of the Zapatistas. The Zapatistas sought to create a national movement for political revolution and a change of economic direction, two goals which they saw as inseparable. In June 1994, with the presidential and congressional campaigns already in progress, the Zapatistas, and the coalition of peasant and native groups of Chiapas that supports them, called a National Convention and brought together popular and democratic forces to discuss the strategy and substance of change. Participating groups held local and state assemblies and then sent their delegates to the National Convention in Chiapas held from August 6 through 9, 1994.The process leading to the National Convention parallelled the electoral campaign, with many of the groups that supported the Convention also participating in the elections, in the hope of forcing an honest outcome.Thus a grassroots political process running parallel to the official elections was put in place, commanding the popular legitimacy which, it was claimed, the official process lacked. The Convention brought more than 6,000 delegates, first to the major city of San Cristóbal de las Casas in Chiapas, and then to an amphitheatre that had been created in the Zapatista-held jungle areas. The Convention adopted a program of struggle and declared itself an ongoing organization that would evaluate the integrity of the

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elections and decide on a course of action should the elections be stolen by ruling party fraud. The Chiapas situation remains explosive. The basic demands of the Zapatistas (restoration of the old Article 27, a national transitional government to hold truly democratic elections) remain unmet, and a military confrontation is likely. The Zapatistas and the civilian popular movements that support them feel that the PRI stole the governor's election on August 21, 1994. Thus on December 8 two ceremonies for the installation of the Governor of Chiapas occurred.The official PRI candidate was installed in a ceremony attended by the new President of Mexico while, in another part of the capital city of Chiapas, Tuxtla Gutierrez, the candidate put forward by the rival Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD), the popular organizations and the Zapatistas was installed in another ceremony. The Zapatista Army for National Liberation (EZLN) declared the truce over and made a bold symbolic military move on December 19. Demonstrations and road blockages to protest the electoral fraud have been continuing all over the state. And the Mexican army, now provided with foreign advisors, has been strengthening its military presence in Chiapas. The Chiapas insurrection is the most dramatic, the most immediately polarized, and the most likely situation to lead in the short run to large-scale violence and repression in Mexico. But similar settings, with a variety of types of mobilization and polarization, exist in other parts of the country.The immediate outcome of the Chiapas rebellion is to encourage multiple challenges to the new economic orthodoxy and the lack of real democratization. It offers a powerful political alternative to the passive acceptance of "inevitable" economic restructuring leading to marginalization and impoverishment in the countryside. Thus, both the consequences of this restructuring and the insurgent traditions of the Mexican countryside make significant clashes there seem likely to continue into the near future. The Chiapas situation illustrates the complex way in which movements for grassroots, democratic participation intertwine and conflict with an elite-driven process of economic reforms. To the extent that the economic model is exclusionary—tending to impoverish and marginalize small and medium farmers, and to increase the

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population of landless, largely indigenous, rural workers, while concentrating the control over the land within a narrow stratum of wealthy landholders and corporate interests—the ingredients for a social explosion are given. These are the same ingredients which, in the past, have fuelled peasant rebellions in Mexico, including the Mexican Revolution. It is not surprising that, in such a context, the ruling party, and the elite interests that it represents, fear the outcome of genuine democratization. In preference, they choose a process of "democratization" that emphasizes formal aspects of electoral democracy, while maintaining full political control through a combination of corporatism, cooptation, coercion, clientelism, repression and manipulation of public opinion. Groups in civil society will, however, react to this lack of real democratization by intensifying their efforts to delegitimize the economic and political regime. The elements of authoritarianism and instability are therefore part and parcel of that regime. These clashes between the rural poor and the Mexican state may yet threaten the regime's stability and make the partial opening up of the political system precarious. To the extent that the responses from civil society remain centred in the countryside, the regime is likely to maintain control, even at the cost of harsh repression. However, should significant urban sectors join in active challenge to the political regime (as happened in 1968), the explosiveness of the situation could increase. CANADA AND THE POLITICAL TRANSITION IN MEXICO

Canada's tepid support for political development in Mexico is in stark contrast with its enthusiastic approach to economic development. While the latter attitude is uniformly expressed in unmitigated praise for the accelerated and unrelenting processes of economic "rationalization" pursued by Mexican ruling groups, the former is characterized by either denial or benign indifference. Thus, during the heated NAFTA debates in the Canadian Parliament, the Prime Minister of the day, Brian Mulroney, categorically dismissed the oft made references to Mexico as a "perfect dictatorship" by claiming that country was a true democracy. Hence, there was, apparently, no need to discuss Mexican

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political issues in Canada. And none were discussed at that time. More recently, such an approach has softened under the current Liberal government. Prime Minister Jean Chretien has adopted a more "pragmatic" stance by stating that Canadians cannot expect Mexicans to behave like Canadians; that Mexicans are entitled to their own "kind" of democracy. In either case, neither the Conservative nor the Liberal government has appeared willing to try to positively influence the course of the democratic transition in Mexico. In adopting this approach, the Canadian official policy toward Mexico reveals a profound contradiction. It appears to be saying that somehow Mexican ruling sectors have a unique talent for learning and implementing the still fashionable neoliberal economic policies being promoted by Canadian and U.S. advocates, but that, when it comes to political development, they still have a long way to go in learning about participatory democracy. To say it in slightly different terms: Mexicans are encouraged to adopt as radical a "shock treatment" approach as might be needed to overhaul the old economic protectionism and replace it with unrestricted market freedoms while, on the other hand, they are praised and supported for moving at a rather glacial pace in the transformation of the country's political system. Remarkably, neither the economic nor the political modernization has succeeded so far. The 1994 presidential and congressional elections in Mexico provide a good illustration of Canada's concern with a mostly formal, procedural, approach to democracy The Mexican government's electoral reforms in the last six years have been greeted with nothing but admiration.The use of technologically sophisticated procedures to produce a new voters' registry, a foolproof voter's card, and the computerized centralization of election results, complemented by the establishment of the newly created Federal Electoral Institute, and the admission, for first time, of national and international election observers, sufficed in the opinion of many Canadian public and private sector officials to define the 1994 elections as an exercise in fairness, honesty and transparency. It was, according to them, yet another positive sign that Mexican democracy is well on its way to becoming less formal and more substantive. We beg to differ from such an unquestioned vindication of that electoral process, as seemingly many Mexicans do as well. The latter

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have a better understanding of the cosmetic nature of the recent electoral reforms. One constantly hears Mexicans repeating the saying that "the more things change, the more they remain the same." In effect, there seems to be little disagreement over the fact that the political opening experienced by Mexico has as its ultimate goal the consolidation of the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party's sixtyfive year old control over the Mexican polity. Few Mexicans are willing to believe that the same ruling party, whose trademark has been a combination of unrestrained presidentialism, authoritarianism, clientelism, corruption, repression, human rights violations and socio-economic and political marginalization of the majority, can voluntarily "democratize" itself out of power. The PRI is, after all, the same party that introduced a constitutional amendment in 1990 to ensure its control of Congress even in the event of an electoral defeat—the so-called "clause of governability" which guaranteed that the party that got 35 percent of the popular vote in a congressional election would automatically receive a majority of seats in Congress. This clause never became operational since the ruling party went on to win a larger majority in the Chamber of Deputies (290 out of 300 seats) and the Senate (31 out of 32 seats) in the August 1991 congressional elections. Not surprisingly, one of the first pieces of legislation approved by the 1991-1994 Congress was to grant authorization for the burning of the 1988 presidential election ballot boxes, thus eliminating the material evidence of the massive fraud that allowed the PM's candidate Carlos Salinas de Gortari to become the country's president. This same legislature went on to amend the Mexican constitution's clauses dealing with land tenure, labour rights, foreign investment, and state ownership of natural resources, especially oil, all in an effort to provide the legal framework for the economic modernization of the country pursued by President Salinas and his team of neoliberal technocrats. The 1994 general elections were readily endorsed by Canadian officials, even though most Canadian observers from non-governmental organizations raised serious doubts about their fairness and transparency.' They, along with Mexican, U.S., European, and Latin American observers, documented an array of irregularities and, in some instances, outright fraud." A report by the Civic Alliance

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(1994), an umbrella organization of more than 300 Mexican nongovernmental organizations, points to traditional as well as new forms of electoral corruption. Rather than criticizing the margin of victory for the ruling party—no one denies that it won—the Civic Alliance emphasizes those non-measurable aspects of the electoral process which contributed to the PRI's hold onto power. They included, among others, the staffing of the Federal Electoral Institute with PRI supporters, and the Federal Electoral Institute's apparent lack of autonomy, given that its president was at the same time the Minister of the Interior and therefore the most important political official in the government.This official resigned abruptly in late June 1994 while claiming that his impartiality in running the electoral process was being jeopardized by "sectors of a political party" that he refused to identify. At the request of civil society organizations, which trusted him more than they trusted the government, he then withdrew his resignation. The Federal Electoral Institute is also blamed for its bias in the selection of the citizens who staffed the polls on election day (less than half were chosen at random, the others were administratively appointed by the electoral authorities). Moreover, the same institution is responsible for the unexplained elimination of many voters from the Voters' Registry, as well as for the failure to supply enough ballots to the so-called "special polls" on the day of the election.' In addition, the Civic Alliance documented numerous instances of voter intimidation by public officials (bosses in government agencies and school principals who coerced teachers and students' parents). Still, the more serious charges relate to the lack of objectivity exhibited by radio and television.The ruling party's candidate regularly received as much as 45 times more coverage than the opposition candidates combined. To that can be added the use of government resources on behalf of the ruling party's candidates and the lack of clear rules on the subject of election expenditures. The failure on the part of the ruling sectors to create a truly democratic society is bound to produce serious consequences for the country's future. On the one hand, many Mexicans, greatly discouraged by the continuing manipulation of the electorate, will return to the traditional apathy that characterized their political attitudes in the past.This

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will leave the political process open to only a few individuals or sectors, mainly within the ruling party itself, who are already positioning themselves to capture the spoils of the new economic strategy pursued by the government. This latter scenario is one of corruption, associated with a greater use of violence to settle political rivalries. Another element, which is addressed by Rochlin's chapter in this volume, is the increasing influence secured by the drug cartels, the role of which was apparent in several political assassinations during 1994.19 On the other hand, the Chiapas uprising appears to be a warning sign that neither the Mexican nor the Canadian and U.S. governments can afford to ignore. That some Mexicans are willing to pursue strategies other than, or in addition to, electoral ones, in order to right the traditional wrongs of Mexican society, is now a distinct possibility. If history can teach us something it is precisely that the 19101917 Mexican Revolution, with its legacy of one million dead, occurred to a great extent because of the blatant inequalities created by the dictator Porfirio Diaz's blind adherence to extreme forms of capitalist accumulation without a corresponding development of political, economic and social democracy. CONCLUSIONS

We have argued that the Mexican situation remains uncertain and prone to instability, as exemplified by the organized responses from rural groups. Events such as the Chiapas uprising threaten to derail the economic reforms and make the partial opening up of the political system precarious. Should significant sectors of the urban working class become more active, vocal, and sufficiently organized to resist an unaccountable and closed political system, the explosiveness of the situation could intensify. The August 1994 Congressional and Presidential elections did not seriously contribute to a democratic resolution of the basic issues confronting Mexico. Notwithstanding loud claims to the contrary, these elections further demonstrated the remarkable ability of the Mexican elite to maintain almost absolute control over the political process, and to systematically disregard calls for real democratization. Despite the introduction of expensive and sophisticated electoral technology, and

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despite the participation of foreign observers, extensive fraud seems to remain an inevitable component of the electoral process. However, most observers agree that the PRI would have won these elections even without direct electoral fraud. The most troublesome part of the Mexican political system is not electoral fraud, but a tightly controlled political system in which one party can win the elections through mechanisms of control outside the electoral process. The widespread, systematic use of political manipulation and 'clientelism' is such that voters, particularly in the rural areas, feel compelled to give their support to the official party as a necessary quid pro quo for the services received from government. The growing use of overt presidential authoritarianism to manipulate electoral behaviour, through such programs as PRONASOL," and the intricate but amazingly effective system of social control that the official party exercises at all levels of social organization (for example, rural village, labour union, and professional association) all give the sense of an almost complete closure against democratic alternatives. The crushing defeat of alternatives to the existing regime, and the huge disappointment of the millions who placed their hopes in a Cardenas victory, puts the Mexican political system at a crossroads.' There is a real possibility that the Mexican people will become even more convinced of the irrelevance of the electoral process for political change. This is not an imaginary scenario, since Mexicans have already had a violent political history. The recent experience, and particularly the social and economic deterioration evident in late 1994, presents hard lessons for Canadian policy towards the Americas. Promotion of democracy and a more equitable social and economic system should be a priority objective of Canadian foreign policy. For example, Canada can and must do much more to assist in the democratization of the Mexican political system. It should actively promote and support the initiatives aimed at changing those institutions which have for so long been the pillars of the authoritarian Mexican state. Canada can assist in the professionalization of the judiciary and the police, so that these organizations exist for the protection and not the persecution of the average Mexican citizen; Canada can also provide expertise on the reform of the electoral system, to ensure that elections occur under clear and

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objective rules and in ways in which the will of the electorate can be truly expressed. Likewise, Canadian expertise should be offered to reform the public administration, which has long been the focus of corruption and arbitrariness. Canada should also establish an endowment fund for the creation of a chair of human rights at one of Mexico's major universities. Last but not least, Canada should increase its support of Canadian NGOs which have been actively working with various sectors of Mexican civil society (indigenous groups, human rights organizations, election observation organizations, women) in order to promote democratic development. Democracy and equity must be pursued in the international context as well. Canada can contribute to the reduction of the tensions between markets and democracy, so that globalization of trade and finance has less impact on the ability of individual states to shape market forces. For example, it should promote trading regimes that protect the rights of labour and the disenfranchised in each country. Declaratory documents such as the NAFTA side agreement on labour should be transformed into enforceable social charters that provide for minimum wages, the right to associate, safety in the workplace, the right to strike, and acceptable working conditions for women and children. If NAFTA had been structured along such lines many of the inequities and huge concentrations of wealth that generate the current Mexican instability could have been attenuated. The main lesson of this chapter is that economic reforms and democratic development cannot be considered as separate goals of Canadian foreign policy. The pursuit of democracy should go hand in hand with the promotion of trade relations. Accordingly, the traditional modernization thesis, that economic growth precedes political democracy, must be re-evaluated. Democratic development should be given a heightened priority even while efforts to turn economies around are maintained.This prescription was not followed in the Mexican case; Canada supported a process of economic reforms and an international agreement (NAFTA) that undoubtedly contributed to greater economic inequality, the weakening of the labour movement, and the closing of democratic spaces in Mexico. These outcomes are quite inconsistent with the explicit Canadian goals of promoting democratic and human development.

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Canada cannot pretend to promote peace, stability and democracy, on the one hand and, on the other, continue to encourage economic policies that create more inequality, social tensions and strengthening of authoritarian regimes. It cannot have its cake and eat it too.

NOTES

The authors acknowledge useful comments on an earlier draft provided by Maureen Appel Molot, Max Cameron, and the other participants in the December 1994 "Canada Among Nations" workshop. 1 These words were written in November 1994, just before the collapse of the peso in December.The 40 percent devaluation against the u.S.$, as of January 1995, represents a corresponding 40 percent loss in the value of Canadian investments in Mexico, measured in U.S. dollars. There is no doubt that when Canadian investors placed their money in Mexico, they were expecting financial, economic, social and political stability. Clearly, those expectations were wrong. 2 Again, this sentence was written before the financial crisis that started in December 1994.The massive wave of capital flight that initiated and propelled this crisis has forced the U.S. government to pull together an unprecedented salvage package of U.S.$ 18 billion (to which Canada is contributing one and half billion) ("Mexico's Ailing Economy Gets $18 Billion Lifeline;' Toronto Star,January 3, 1995, Al). This package is larger than any put together to salvage the countries of the ex-Soviet Union! The new crisis arrives at a time when the 1982 foreign debt crisis that hit Mexico is far from resolved. Mexico's foreign debt reached its highest level in 1993: U.S.$ 121 billion. This figure was 20 percent higher than the debt inherited by the Salinas administration. Moreover, Jose Luis Calva, a researcher at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, argues that the total foreign debt is, in reality, dose to u.S.$ 194 billion if, in addition to the acknowledged debt, other items, such as direct foreign investment, and internal debt held by foreigners in bonds and other issues, are also considered ("Llego a 121 mdd la deuda externa del pais," La Jornada, August 19, 1993, 43, 56; "121 mil millones de dls., deuda externa total; bajo en fluxion del PIB: Hacienda;' Uno Mas Uno, August 19, 1993, 1, 20). Pursuit of structural adjustment during this period failed to make even a modest dent on the debt which is likely to remain high given the dramatic events of 1994.

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3 Nora Lustig, Mexico: The Remaking of an Economy, (Washington: Brookings Institution, 1992), 75. 4 Data from Organizacion de Cooperacion y Desarrollo Economicos [OECD]. Estudios Econ6micos de la OECD. (Paris: OECD, 1992), 236. According to this source, for people 45 years of age and older, employment in the informal sector is about 50 percent of total employment. 5

OECD, Estudios Economicos, 278.

6 OECD, Estudios Economicos, 58. 7 North American workers have reason to be unhappy. As of early January 1995, a devaluation of the peso (from 3.4 pesos to the U.S. dollar on December 19 to 5.7 on January 7) meant a similar fall in Mexican wages, measured in dollars. This means that transnational corporations now face dramatically lower wage costs in Mexico, and thus are even more likely to pressure U.S. and Canadian workers to "become competitive" by decreasing labour costs. This is another example of a situation in which economic integration, without adequate protection for labour rights (which is what NAFTA encouraged), promotes a "race to the bottom." As if this were not enough, the "emergency economic plan" set out by President Zedillo to deal with the crisis sets clear priorities as to who will bear the costs of adjustment: the workers and low-income Mexicans. The new plan will mean further losses in real wages. The Ministry of Finance now forecasts 19 percent inflation in 1995, and an increase in nominal wages of 10 percent (that is, an additional planned fall in real wages, measured in domestic currency, of 9 percent during 1995), ("Mexico Revamps Goals and Forecasts for 1995," Toronto Star, January 6, 1995, E2). It is noteworthy that most mainstream analyses of NAFTA in the last few years forecasted stability, growing prosperity, and increases in Mexican real wages. 8 In the Mexican constitution, the dispositions concerning workers and workers' rights occupy a prominent place.They are enshrined in Article 123, originating from the Mexican Revolution and one of the longest articles in the constitution. 9 It would also take place in a radically new context of financial crisis, massive capital flight, and a new President Zedillo who, just on assuming power, loses control over the macroeconomy and enrages big financiers by orchestrating an unexpected devaluation. 10 John R. Heath, Enhancing the Contribution of Land Reform to Mexican Agricultural Development, World Bank Working Paper (Washington: World Bank, 1990).This paragraph, and Heath, both draw on Jose Luis Calva, La Disputa por la Tierra: La Reforma del Articulo 27 y la Nueva Ley Agraria, (Mexico City: Fontamara, 1993), 73.

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11 José Luis Calva, La Disputa. 12 Some of these mechanisms are: (1) an ejido parcel can be sold to another ejidatario or neighbour (with only two witnesses to the sale needed, making fraud by political bosses and local elites relatively easy); (2) the ejido as a whole can vote to break up the parcels into absolute private property with as few as one third of the members plus one voting in favour at a second assembly on the question; (3) parcels can be used as collateral for loans and lost upon default on the loan; (4) the parcel can be rented out or an association formed with a mercantile group; or (5) the land can be willed to any persons as heirs without imposing on such persons any obligation whatsoever to the family of the ejidatario. 13 Studies of the Institut° Nacional de la NutriciOn, cited in Jose Luis Calva, La Disputa por la Tierra, 69. 14 Lustig, Mexico, 88. 15 The dependence on food imports shows its dark side when the country must curtail imports to deal with a balance of payments crisis, exactly like the one that arose in December 1994. The "emergency economic plan"• established in January 1995 is intended to cut the massive trade deficit in half; which means severely curtailing imports into the country ("Mexico Revamps," E2). This will likely cause further worsening of the nutritional status of low-income Mexicans. 16 The final results of the August 21 presidential and congressional elections are as follows: ELECTION OF THE PRESIDENT Ernesto Zedillo-PRI

17,336,325

48.77%

Diego Fernandez-PAN

9,222,899

26.69%

Cuahtemoc Cardenas-PRD

5,901,557

16.60%

PPS

168,603

0.47%

PFCRN

301,524

0.85%

PARM

195,086

0.55%

PDM

99,216

0.28%

PT

975,356

2.74%

PVEM

330,381

0.93%

1,000,782

2.82%

Annulled votes

GRINSPUN, GALLEGUILLOS & ROMAN 233

THE SENATORIAL ELECTION

(96 seats contested out of 128 in total) Proportional representation

Relative majority PRI

64

PAN

23

PRD

9

PRESENT COMPOSITION OF THE SENATE Total PRI

95

PAN

24

PRD

9

THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES ELECTION (300 seats contested, 200 allocated on the basis of proportional representation) Relative majority

Proportional representation

Total

PRI

277

23

300

PAN

18

101

119

PRD

5

66

71

10

10

PT

17 See, for example, Teresa Healy, ed., Canadian NGO-Church-LabourWomen Delegation to the International Visitors-Civic Alliance Observation: 1994 Mexican Election, Final Report, (Ottawa: OXFAM, November 1994); International Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development [ICHRDD], Mexico Election Monitoring Mission, (Ottawa: ICHRDD, December 1994). Another comprehensive report is: Civic Alliance, La calidad de la jornada electoral del 21 de agosto de 1994, (Mexico City: Civic Alliance, September 1994). 18 The "special polls" were established to permit transient voters (away from their usual place of residence) to vote for president. They were located mostly in bus and train terminals. The problems arose since

234 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

only 300 ballots were allocated to each poll. In several places, thousands of Mexicans protested when they were not allowed to vote because the polls ran out of ballots. 19 See, among others: Sarah Kerr, "The Mystery of Mexican Politics," New York Review, November 17, 1994, 29-34; New York Times, December 1, 1994, A9; Peter Smith,"Politics that Kill," NewYork Times, October 24, 1994, A13; Michael Serrill, "Conspiracy Theories," Time, June 20, 1994, 32; Kevin Fedarko, "His Brother's Keeper:' Time, December 5, 1994, 34. 20 The National Solidarity Program is a large program of assistance to popular sectors. 21 Cuautelunoc Cardenas, a left-oriented presidential candidate in 1988, claimed that Salinas stole the victory through fraud. Cardenas ran again in 1994, commanding a wide front of popular sectors, and came third.

XI I Democracy and the Problem of Government in Russia

ANDREA CHANDLER

When the Soviet Union broke up in 1991, Canada responded fair-

ly quickly to the need for Western countries to redefine their orientations towards the Soviet successor states. The Canadian government's approach towards the region emphasized the goal of contributing in subtle ways to the achievement of stable, peaceful and pluralistic societies. However, the political volatility of the region since 1991 demonstrates not only the perils that await Western observers who hope to predict and prevent conflict, but also the complexity of evaluating whether or not a country is democratic.This is, perhaps, particularly the case in Russia, which is the largest and most powerful country of the former Soviet Union. It has also been the most prominent "democracy" of the region, and yet in the few short years since Boris Yeltsin led the Russian Federation to independence, the country has faced its share

236 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

of ethnic conflict, violent struggle between political elites, and most recently the controversy over the government's military intervention in the separatist republic of Chechnya. Given the apparent setbacks to Russian democratic reform, Canadians might justifiably wonder whether Western policies designed to assist political development in the former Soviet Union are having any positive impact. Since 1993, a number of Western and Russian experts have raised in fact serious doubts about the future of democratization in Russia.' The violence that resulted from the conflict between President Boris Yeltsin and the parliament in October 1993 had already raised concerns about the future of Russian democracy, and indeed the stability of Russian politics in general. The parliamentary elections in December 1993 created further unease when the Russian reformers faced disappointing results in the portion of the State Duma (lower house) elected by proportional representation, while Communist and nationalist blocs fared relatively well.' Events since the parliamentary elections have displayed a combined pattern of ministerial turnover, a vigorous yet uncooperative parliament, and a president who remains the subject of criticism for what is perceived to be an imperious style of rule.Throughout 1994, PresidentYeltsin was thought to have been putting considerable trust in Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin, but by the end of that year a number of changes in top government personnel had accompanied a politically and economically stressful autumn.3 President Yeltsin continued to face both an inhospitable parliament in Moscow and intransigent ethnic groups and regions throughout the country. The Russian government's use of force in December 1994 in its attempt to suppress General Dzhokar Dudaev's separatist government in Chechnya, a small republic in the Caucasus region, was a dramatic example of Boris Yeltsin's failure to retain popular legitimacy. The attack on Chechnya faced resistance from local populations in the Caucasus and met widespread opposition from civil society throughout Russia, while the international media graphically reported the suffering of Chechen civilians. It seemed clear by 1994 that Russia's politics remained unstable: its direction was unresolved, and its leaders faced serious tensions. This chapter argues that, while democracy is very fragile in Russia, it is not necessarily doomed to fail. However, the dynamics of

CHANDLER 237

the political process in Russia since 1991 have intensified the difficulties of establishing stable and consensual government. Even in those instances where violence is avoided, confrontation and intransigence are characteristic of the behaviour of the country's political actors.' The implications of these characteristics for the other countries of the post-Soviet region, and for relations with the West, cannot be dismissed. It is therefore important to understand the roots of the present political difficulties in the context of the evolution of Russian democracy since 1991. The question of the performance of the state and confidence in government belongs at the centre of analysis of any discussion of Russian democracy. As in other democratic states throughout the world, the leaders are being evaluated at home for the effectiveness of their rule. Such widely observed phenomena as corruption, restive regions, legal confusion and government arbitrariness must all be seen as part of the single problem of constructing a fair, ust, and effective state.To echo an argument made by Samuel P. Huntington in 1968, Russia's problems as a new polity reflect the weaknesses of its government structures: state building cannot be separated from the struggle to create democratic political institutions.5 The experience of Russian democracy should be examined as a crisis of governmental performance and responsibility, rather than simply as a test of democracy or market reform. The West, including Canada, has played a part in Russian democratization which must not be underestimated. However, the role of Western countries and Western ideas in Russian politics are very controversial in the country's domestic political arena. Therefore it is essential for Westerners who are interested in Russia's fate to understand the workings of democracy and government in that country in the last few years. Russia is a perfect example of the difficult choices that Western governments will face if they choose to promote democratization and market reform elsewhere. DEMOCRACY IN RUSSIA SINCE

1991

The analysis of Russian democracy in this chapter stresses the causal role of institutional factors and the dynamic interplay of political actors since 1991. However, many pressures serve to complicate the

238 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

post-Communist transition, not the least of which are historical legacies of authoritarian rule and the severe economic crisis that accompanied the breakup of the USSR. Such factors have been cited in the scholarly and policy debate over Russian politics. Some experts blame structures, such as international institutions like the International Monetary Fund, which was criticized for not giving Russia sufficient financial backing; others saw the political struggle as a manifestation of an ongoing clash of ideologies in Russian political culture; and still others posited that Boris Yeltsin and his economic henchman, Egor Gaidar, were the culprits, because they had forced "shock therapy" on a population not ready for a market economy.' Similarly, those difficulties have been variously interpreted as a conflict between reformers (who stood to benefit from market reform) and the former Communist elite (nomenklatura), or as a collision of differing beliefs regarding the purposes and goals of reform.' Inter-group struggles and differences in world view are extremely important, but do not in themselves explain the weaknesses of Russian democracy. Among the many purposes of a democracy is the resolution of differences between competing groups, in order to ensure that various interests have a fair chance to be represented in government and an opportunity to determine policy.' It is therefore essential to evaluate the institutions in which leaders of differing political interests interact. Some analysts have correctly depicted the struggle between the president and parliament as a constitutional conflict, rather than a dispute concerned merely with economic reform.' In view of PresidentYeltsin's thwarted aspiration for support in the parliament, and the resultant discontent with his approach to the legislature, another relevant factor that must be considered is the lack of political dialogue and persuasion on behalf of political leadership.'" These explanations all suggest the importance of examining the political process. A number of related factors have influenced the development of democratic institutions in Russia, including: the nature of the executive-legislative relationship; contentious debates over the style and practice of policy formation and implementation, and over the substance of policy; weaknesses of governmental and legal institutions; and concerns regarding the competence of the government, including the presidential leadership.

CHANDLER 239

Russia began the path to democracy in 1990 when, in the course of Mikhail Gorbachev's perestroika, elections were held in the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic for the reorganized legislature (consisting of the Congress of People's Deputies and the Supreme Soviet). The Russian Parliament, which included the Supreme Soviet chosen indirectly by the larger, popularly elected Congress of People's Deputies, was elected in 1990.11 Boris Yeltsin assumed political leadership when he was elected Chairman of the Supreme Soviet.' However, his power as Chairman was shaky, due to the split in parliament between reformers and more conservativeminded Communists.' As Thomas Remington and others argued, the position of Chairman was a position formerly tantamount to head of state. This created confusion and conflict over the powers of the president, a new office to which Yeltsin was elected in 1991, and that of the Chairman of the parliament, the position to which Ruslan Khasbulatov acceded when Yeltsin vacated the post." Boris Yeltsin was directly elected as president of Russia in June 1991, which in his view gave him a democratic mandate." After the failed Soviet coup attempt of August 1991, President Yeltsin's policy was to pursue market reforms, to neutralize the Communist Party's advantage in politics, and to consolidate Russia's power for the purpose of the break-up of the Soviet Union. With the formal dissolution of the Soviet Union in December 1991, Yeltsin accelerated his economic program, having won temporary, extraordinary powers from the Russian parliament to do so. With the help of economist Egor Gaidar (Yeltsin's minister of the economy, who then became acting prime minister until December, 1992),Yeltsin initiated a controversial policy of market-oriented economic reform, price liberalization, and privatization, a policy more commonly known as "shock therapy"' However, the reformist position of the president, became unacceptable to the parliament, where opposition to shock therapy grew in strength in 1992; in addition, the fragile and amorphous nature of the party system in Russia, accentuated by the tendency of Yeltsin to eschew identification with any party, further encouraged this mutual isolation.'7 Another serious source of conflict was the difficulty of drawing up a constitution. Although a constitutional process was initiated, it was delayed because of regional

240 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

demands from the periphery (in assertive regions such as Tatarstan and Chechnya), and of the dispute over the respective powers of the president and parliament's In 1992, the parliament reconsidered the degree to which it had previously placed its faith in the power of Yeltsin's leadership to transform the economy. In December of that year its dissatisfaction with Yeltsin was made apparent when the Congress rejected the candidacy of Egor Gaidar for prime minister. A further dispute arose in March 1993, which resulted one month later in a referendum on the question of holding early elecdons.'s The conflict between the executive and legislative branches of government came to a head in September 1993, when Yeltsin attempted to dissolve parliament and call early elections; this led to violence when leaders of the parliament resisted what they perceived as an impermissible act by Yeltsin. The leaders of the parliamentary opposition included, most prominently, the chairman of the parliament, Ruslan Khasbulatov, and Yeltsin's estranged vice-president, Aleksandr Rutskoi. President Yeltsin's rhetoric fostered the notion that the crisis resulted from a struggle between pro-market democrats and hard-line Communists and nationalists, between those who sought to reform the old Soviet institutions and those who benefited from the status quo. In contrast, assessments of experts and scholars from Russia often fault Boris Yeltsin's behaviour and executive leadership for encouraging arbitrary and autocratic behaviour within the executive apparatus, for failing to give priority to legal and governmental reform, and for adopting confrontational approaches rather than building consensus within the parliament.2° Charging that reformist leaders in the government were unwilling to consider constructive feedback on their policies, Alexei Arbatov argued that it was the heavy-handed method by which shock therapy was imposed rather than the principle of market reform per se which was found particularly politically objectionable.'-' In this light, it is important to consider the controversy over the way in which policy was made and executed in Russia, in addition to the serious differences of opinion that existed over substantive issues such as economic reform. BorisYeltsin's leadership has been criticized for combining his assertive resoluteness with a poorly-coordinated government bureaucracy

CHANDLER 241

unable to enforce or implement laws." One of the most widely discussed problems in Russian government has been the presidential issuance of decrees that contradict and confuse the laws emanating from the parliament, and which make it unclear who is responsible for what function and which regulation should prevail." Partly in response to this problem some of Yeltsin's advisors, allegedly, pressured him to exercise strong presidential power and to neutralize the parliament." Political actors on all sides in the Russian government have consistently acknowledged that the weaknesses of the state and the uncertain attribution of decision making powers are a primary cause of the country's political instability. This widely acknowledged legal confusion and dualism led in turn to other problems. First, Russian politicians have freely admitted that such weaknesses encouraged corruption.' Corruption, as Samuel P. Huntington has argued, is common in new, modernizing states." However, the question in Russia was whether corruption was becoming an entrenched, destructive part of the system. Second, as Deputy Supreme Soviet Chairman S. Filatov argued at the Congress of People's Deputies in April 1992, the uncertainty over what laws were to be enforced allowed regional and local governments to carry out the central government's will selectively and according to convenience." Finally, it encouraged an ongoing competition between the legislature and the executive, exemplified when Yeltsin permitted the development of a large presidential bureaucracy, separate from the control of the government ministries.' This bureaucracy has been described as having "real power" in the country" Filatov, a Yeltsin supporter, conceded that this behaviour by the presidential elite was encouraging "irresponsibility" on the part of the government ministries and the parliament.' It would be unfair to blame the shortcomings of the Russian government solely on PresidentYeltsin; all political actors, including the parliament and the judiciary, must share responsibility for the problems. The endemic weakness of Russian government institutions and the government's slow progress towards establishing the rule of law have decisively affected the development of democracy in Russia. In the constitutional discussions the establishment of the rule of law and the power of the judiciary were recognized as important principles.31 Yet constitutional struggles and legal delays hampered

242 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

the entrenchment of a strong judiciary.' The judiciary's neutrality was compromised when its chief, Valerii Zorkin, became involved in partisan support of the Russian parliament against Yeltsin.33 While the behaviour of the parliament was also considered irresponsible and obstructionist, serious questions were raised about the competence of the Yeltsin government, its economic wisdom and its policies, and the fate of society and social welfare. It is one thing to oppose shock therapy on ideological and political grounds; it is another thing to doubt that shock therapy will work, and still another to doubt whether Yeltsin and Gaidar were leaders capable of implementing shock therapy effectively. Given the legitimate doubts raised by the performance of Yeltsin and his government, there is reason to see opposition to shock therapy as an issue of policy confidence, rather than as an outright rejection of the market system. Western economists have debated and disagreed over the effectiveness of "shock therapy" as an economic and reform strategy, which should prove that objections to it can be based on policy evaluation as well as on ideological grounds or vested interests.34 Rightly or wrongly,Yeltsin and Gaidar were criticized inside and outside Russia for giving the impression of endorsing economic theories without sufficient consideration of the indigenous political context, and without sufficiently emphasizing the necessary legal infrastructure for economic reform.' Even in 1992, parliamentary chairman Ruslan Khasbulatov expressed doubts about the effectiveness of "shock therapy" and about the political wisdom of leaders whom he accused of dilettantism and who, he charged, had concentrated on the theoretical aspects of economics rather than on the practical application and efficacy of various policies in the Russian context.36 The emphasis here is on the soundness of the policy and the skill of the leaders, not on the ideological or social implications of shock therapy. DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT SINCE THE

1993

ELECTION CAMPAIGN

By 1993, one of the most serious criticisms being levelled against the Yeltsin government was that it was insufficiently sensitive to the effects of market reform (whose introduction was accompanied by

CHANDLER 243

high inflation) on the citizenry. The social dislocation and economic hardship which accompanied shock therapy was one factor which provoked resistance in the parliament and greatly influenced voter behaviour in the 1993 parliamentary elections." An interview with Egor Gaidar in Moscow News showed that this touched a raw nerve. Gaidar was quoted as saying, "I am tired of repeating that we have had no 'shock therapy,'" to which his interviewer rejoined, "We had— for people with low incomes."' In fact, the government did consider the concerns of society and questions of fairness: for example, the Russian government introduced the controversial program of voucher privatization in the hopes of providing citizens with resources and opportunities to receive a fair share of reorganized state industry." However, as United States President Bill Clinton well appreciated after the 1994 midterm elections in his country, incumbent parties are held accountable for unpopular programs and economic weaknesses, regardless of whether or not such unpleasant things are their fault. Elections in the post-Communist countries in general have shown a tendency to reject parties identified with incumbent governments.' One should expect the opposition to rise to the occasion, as when Russian Communist Party leader Gennadii Ziuganov charged that Yeltsin and Gaidar had no social base whatsoever, and had flagrantly ignored the wishes of the people.' While Ziuganov was certainly overstating the case, and himself held a rather debatable view of society's desires, he found a significant social constituency receptive to his message in the December 1993 parliamentary elections. In those elections, the constitution submitted by Yeltsin was approved in the referendum, and a parliament was elected whose lower house (Duma) promised, at best, a lively mix of dissonant views.That half of the Duma which was elected by proportional representation embodied significant successes from the Communist Party, the Communist-leaning Agrarian Party, and the Liberal Democratic Party led by Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Experts have argued that Zhirinovsky's success is disquieting due to his inflammatory nationalist rhetoric, but his support in the legislature remains relatively small and isolated.' For example, unlike the Russian Communist Party, Zhirinovsky's party did not refuse to sign the Civic Accord, in which Yeltsin proposed to other political elites, in

244 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

the spring of 1994, that they join him in establishing a set of resolutions on constructive dialogue in Russian politics." Support in elections for the other half of the Duma made Gaidar's Russia's Choice bloc the most significant single group in the new body, but still the reformers faced formidable opposition from their opponents.' In some ways, the new constitution gives the parliament less power than previously.' For example, the president can dissolve the parliament if it votes non-confidence twice within three months or fails three times to approve a prime minister.The constitution also gives the president the right to resolve disputes between government organs and to suspend laws which violate the constitution.' Yet the parliament retains legislative power and the ability to pass the budget. This power has already been used in ways that are inconvenient for the president and government. A good example is the amnesty to the Soviet coup plotters of 1991 and the leaders of the parliamentary resistance of 1993.47 Moreover, the Duma's attitude toward the 1995 budget in the autumn of 1994 foreshadowed problems for the government. In the immediate aftermath of the elections, a number of prominent reformers, including Gaidar, left the government.Yeltsin depended on the cooperation of Prime Minister Chernomyrdin, whose economic reforms were continuing, although in a more subdued fashion." Chernomyrdin reportedly asserted the power of the government to downplay the controversial presidential bureaucracy, whose power had increased in 1992 and 1993." Michael McFaul argues that the new parliament was anxious to avoid the previous mistakes and ultimate fate of the old legislative body, while the Duma's Speaker Ivan Rybkin has been praised for his professional behaviour and restraint."Yet the parliament faced criticism for its inaction when, in its first half-year, the Duma apparently only managed to pass the law on the status of deputies and the (belated) 1994 budget.5' Rybkin, for his part, expressed the idea that the parliament took seriously its legislative role, although he criticized the Communist Party for actively promoting a vote of non-confidence in the government." Meanwhile, the government and Yeltsin took the (somewhat overdue) position that social welfare and social policy had to be considered more carefully, as a matter of urgency for the country."Yeltsin has, however, continued to use his power to issue controversial decrees. In June 1994, he issued one

CHANDLER 245

which was aimed at fighting organized crime and corruption and which gave law enforcement authorities special powers to arrest, detain, enter property and examine the papers of suspected criminals and their family members.' This decree was criticized for violating civil rights and giving officials greater opportunity to abuse power.' The autumn of 1994 brought new uncertainty to the Russian government. The head of the Communist party, Gennadii Ziuganov, emerged as a real presence in the Duma, causing consternation among both democrats and reformers. When the new session opened in October, a journalist paraphrased Ziuganov's comments as "there is no need to pass laws because no one carries them out."' The Coinmunist party pushed for a vote of non-confidence, while the plunge of the ruble in October threatened the credibility of Chernomyrdin's government. A shake-up of government ministers accompanied the crisis." A member of the Agrarian party, ideologically close to the Communists, became the new Minister of Agriculture." As for market reform,Yeltsin tried to continue the existing reform direction, as shown by the rise of Anatoly Chubais, then in charge of privatization, to the post of First Deputy Prime Minister." In the wake of the currency crisis, the tone of political discourse remained confrontational. When he defended the strict 1995 draft budget before the Duma on October 27, Chernomyrdin was in effect being asked outright to affirm whether or not he had a sense of patriotic loyalty.' The democrats in the Duma remained divided in their support of Yeltsin and Chernomyrdin.' By December of 1994 even Gaidar, who only a month earlier had urged fellow Democratic Russia's Choice members to continue to support Yeltsin,62 came out in condemnation of the government's military action in Chechnya.63 As the Duma prepared at the end of 1994 to debate the 1995 budget, the Russian press began to discuss the possibility that Yeltsin might seek to dissolve the parliament." IMPLICATIONS FOR RUSSIAN FOREIGN POLICY

The current concerns of Western governments about Russia include: the desire for assurances about the stability of Russia's government; the fate of market reform; and the prospects for continuing Russia's

246 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

relatively pro-Western foreign policy direction. By 1994, experts noted with concern that President Yeltsin was pursuing a more domineering foreign policy than previously toward the other post-Soviet countries." In December 1994, Yeltsin and his Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev attracted further Western attention when Russia balked suddenly at formalizing its participation in the Partnership for Peace Program of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and Yeltsin criticized the possibility of expanding NATO to include East European countries." Whether or not they were temporary policy shifts, the relationship of these measures to democracy was puzzling. On the one hand, in view of the influence that Russian nationalist leaders now have in the country's political arena,Yeltsin was likely taking account of domestic pressures to reassert a broader view of Russian territorial interests, particularly in the other former Soviet republics." On the other hand, he appeared to have much difficulty in mustering public support: his intervention in Chechnya, for instance, was criticized by other political leaders as well as in the Duma." The position of Kozyrev, whose relatively pro-Western stance had made him politically vulnerable at home, seemed precarious: during the government crisis of October 1994, rumour had it that he and Chernomyrdin would be removed from the government." As of the end of 1994, Kozyrev continued to hold his position. The West walks a fine line between constructive support and assistance for the Russian reform effort on the one hand, and avoiding reinforcement of any impression of either partisanship towardsYeltsin or pressure for compliance with Western demands on the other. The question of Yeltsin's links with, and support from, the West has been an issue in his disputes with the domestic opposition.' It has been suggested that Yeltsin is primarily concerned with furthering the interests of global capitalism.' A public opinion survey by two Western experts suggested that Russian citizens thought that foreigners had too much influence in Russian politics.' Prominent Russian expert Jerry F. Hough argued recently that the United States, by regarding both shock therapy and presidentially-based democracy as being in the American national interest, was contributing to an economic crisis that could weaken power structures in Russia and provoke an anti-Western backlash."

CHANDLER 247

CANADIAN POLICY RESPONSES

The Canadian government should take such concerns seriously. Canada's approach has been to support market reforms, expand trade, and promote democracy. Indeed, under the Mulroney government, Canada was quick to support reforms in Russia. As Jeanne Kirk Laux pointed out, Mulroney evoked some controversy when he rapidly established the Task Force (later Bureau) on Central and Eastern Europe to offer assistance to the East European countries and Russia.' Canada has offered Russia various types of assistance." The House of Commons Standing Committee on External Affairs and International Trade, early in 1992, heard testimony from experts on the political situation in the former Soviet Union, and issued a lengthy report in June of the same year.' The directions outlined in the report focused on the limited ways in which Canada could help the former Soviet republics, noting that Canadian assistance could help modestly in promoting democratic practices, environmental safety, and organizations in civil society, as well as involvement in bilateral and multilateral programs.The report recommended that in addition to Russia, the Baltic republics and Ukraine should be objects of expanded assistance.' The report did not consider the consolidation of democracy to be a foregone conclusion in the region, and noted that, consistently with aid policy in general, assistance to the region should take account of Canadian interests regarding human rights, the environment, and other issues." As in other areas of Canadian foreign policy, direct involvement in the region was to be limited, and Canada would see its involvement in multilateral organizations, such as the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) and the G-7, to be important ways of participating in political and economic development in the former Soviet Union. Canada signed a trade agreement with the Russian Federation in 1992." During his official visit to Canada in June 1992 Yeltsin expressed particular interest in cooperation between the two countries with respect to nuclear safety, the Arctic, and intergovernmental relations within federalism.6° Canada sent observers to Russian parliamentary elections as a means of demonstrating support for democracy.' Canada

248 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

has also offered assistance to Russia in limited and potentially useful ways, such as aid to rural areas, sharing skills in federal conflict resolution, and various educational and exchange projects. This has occurred through both non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and government departments. As John Lamb has noted, Canada has developed programs to promote and assist the process of "good governance" in Russia." Canada should be encouraged to offer aid to people in need—such as women and local self-help groups—which will filter down to society at the grassroots, instead of using programs that work strictly through elites." The positive role that Canada could play in facilitating grassroots social initiatives in Russian localities, and contacts between Canadian and Russian nongovernmental organizations, has been cited in policy discussion as a potential contribution to building "civil society."84 Canadian responses to Yeltsin's dissolution of the Russian legislature in September 1993 and to the more disquieting aspects of the December election results were quite cautious and guarded, affirming support for the continuation of the democratic process and for the principles of free elections." Given the difficulties and pitfalls of taking sides in internal political matters, this approach seems a wise one. Should the Russian government move in a more expansionist or authoritarian direction the Chretien government may wish to reexamine its policy towards Russia. The Liberal government's policy stance seems to have changed little from that of the previous Conservative leadership, despite the rapid changes in the former Soviet region since 1992. Canada will want to watch closely Russia's behaviour towards the Baltic states and Ukraine, since these countries have been identified as areas of Canadian domestic concern. In the fall of 1994, Ukraine, under its newly-elected President Kuchma, embarked on its own ambitious economic reform program with the support of the International Monetary Fund." Canada's Foreign Minister Andre Ouellet praised the reform program and announced assistance and loan programs for Ukraine during Kuchma's visit to Canada in October.' While this country has more than its own fair share of political problems, notably the recalcitrant Crimea, it is hoped that it can avoid the type of violence and social hardship that have accompanied the market transition in Russia.

CHANDLER 249 CONCLUSION

By the end of 1994, the Russian political arena was full of tension, even though, on balance, the democratic process and market reform continued. To speak positively, political discourse in Russia throughout 1994 was to a great extent preoccupied with who should run, and how strategy should be conducted, in the forthcoming parliamentary and presidential elections of 1995 and 1996 respectively. This suggests continuing faith in the process of competitive elections. In a world where the state is the predominant form of political organization, Russian leaders have yet to determine definitively what kind of political process they will have, and how they will enforce laws in a consistent and equitable manner. Evaluations of Russian democracy should not merely look for the appearance of elections and civil liberties, but should also take into consideration the actual functioning of government, its mechanics and its possible abuses of power. They should apply criteria such as equality before the law, regular and fair elections, mechanisms for compromise and consent, and limits on government power. If Westerners have an interest in promoting democracy and market reform in Russia, it is crucial that they distinguish between support of these principles in general, and support for the strategies adopted by particular Russian government leaders. On the other hand, Western observers should realize that there are very real possibilities for further social and political instability in Russia.

NOTES I would like to thank Henri Jarque for his careful reading of the first draft of the paper. I would also like to acknowledge the valuable comments of editors Maureen Appel Molot and Max Cameron, and the suggestions of other contributors to this volume. 1 For example, see Jeffrey Sachs, "The Reformers' Tragedy" New York Times, January 23, 1994, E17; Yuri N. Afanasiev, "Russian Reform is Dead: Back to Central Planning," Foreign Affairs 73, no. 2 (March/April 1994), 21-26; Jonathon W. Moses, "The Eighteenth Brumaire of

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Boris Yeltsin," Security Dialogue 25, no. 3 (1994), 335-37; Philip G. Roeder, "Varieties of Post-Soviet Authoritarianism," Post-Soviet Affairs 10, no. 1 (1994), 61-101. 2 See Vera Tolz, "Russia's Parliamentary Elections: What Happened and Why," RFE/RL Research Report 3, no. 2 (January 14, 1994), 1-8. 3 See "Russia's Crisis of Capitalism," The Economist, October 15, 1994, 63-64. 4 See the argument of Michael Urban, "The Politics of Identity in Russia's Post-Communist Transition: The Nation Against Itself," Slavic Review 53, no. 3 (Fall 1994), 733-65. 5 This argument is influenced by the theory of Samuel P Huntington, who argued over twenty-five years ago that diverse problems of political development in the third world were caused by the weaknesses of government. Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven:Yale University Press, 1968). 6 For examples of these respective viewpoints, see Jeffrey Sachs, "The Reformers'Tragedy," E17;Yuri N. Afanasiev,"Russian Reform is Dead:' 21-26; Jonathon W. Moses, "The Eighteenth Brumaire," 335-37. 7 See Michael McFaul, "Russian Centrism and Revolutionary Transitions," Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 3 (1993), 196-222. For the second view, see Judith S. Kullberg, "The Ideological Roots of Elite Political Conflict in Post-Soviet Russia:' Europe-Asia Studies 46, no. 6 (1994), 929-53. 8 Adam Przeworski, "Democracy as a Contingent Outcome of Conflicts," in Jon Elster and Rune Slagsted, eds., Constitutionalism and Democracy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 59-80. 9 See Hellmut Wollman, "Change and Continuity of Political and Administrative Elites in Post-Communist Russia;' Governance 6, no. 3 (July 1993), 335-36. Also, Robert Sharlet, "Russian Constitutional Crisis: Law and Politics underYeltsin," Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 4 (1993) 314-36. 10 Archie Brown, "The October Crisis of 1993: Context and Implications," Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 3 (1993), 184-85. 11 See Thomas R. Remington, Steven S. Smith, D. Roderick Kiewiet and Moshe Haspel,"Transitional Institutions and Parliamentary Alignments in Russia, 1990-1993," in Thomas R. Remington, ed., Parliaments in

Transition: The New Legislative Politics in the Former USSR and Eastern Europe (Boulder:Westvievv, 1994), 162-63; Stephen White, Graeme Gill and Darrell Slider, The Politics of Transition: Shaping a Post-Soviet Future (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 20-38.

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12 Alexander Dallin, "Causes of the Collapse of the USSR," Post-Soviet Affairs 8, no. 4, (October-December 1992), 299. 13 Regina A. Smyth,"Ideological vs. Regional Cleavages:Do the Radicals Control the RSESR Parliament?" Journal of Soviet Nationalities 1, no. 3 (Fall 1990), 112-57. 14 Remington, et al, "Transitional Institutions," 162-63. See also Robert Sharlet, "Russian Constitutional Crisis," 318-19. 15 Boris Yeltsin, The Struggle for Russia, trans. Catherine A. Fitzpatrick (NewYork: Random House, 1994), 34-36. 16 See Peter Murrell, "What is Shock Therapy? What Did It Do in Russia and Poland?" Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 2 (1993), 131-37. 17 These arguments are made in Yitzhak Brudny, "The Dynamics of `Democratic Russia,' 1990-1993," Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 2 (1993), 168-69; Jan Ake Dellenbrant and Oleg Andreev, "Russian Politics in Transition: Political Parties and Organizations in Russia and the Murmansk Region," Scandinavian Political Studies 17, no. 2 (1994), 109-42; Richard Sakwa,"Parties and the Multiparty System in Russia," RFE/RL Research Report 2, no. 31 (July 30, 1993), 7-15. On weak parties and charismatic leaders in post-Communist countries in general, see Baohui Zhang, "Corporatism, Totalitarianism, and Transitions to Democracy" Comparative Political Studies 27, no. 1 (April 1994), 124-32. 18 Edward W.Walker,"The New Russian Constitution and the Future of the Russian Federation," Harriman Institute Forum 5, no. 2 (June 1992), 1-16. It has been argued quite convincingly that presidential systems encourage this kind of institutional conflict, while on balance parliamentary systems tend to achieve more political stability. Alfred Stepan and Cindy Skach, "Constitutional Frameworks and Democratic Consolidation: Parliament-arism versus Presidentialism," World Politics 46, no. 1 (October 1993), 1-22. 19 Remington et al. "Transitional Institutions," 172-76. 20 See Alexei G. Arbatov, "Russia's Foreign Policy Alternatives," International Security 18, no. 2 (Fall 1993), 15-17; Lidia Shevtsova, "Russia Facing New Choices: Contradictions of Post-Communist Development," Security Dialogue 25, no. 3 (1994), 321-334; Mikhail Piskotin, "Rossii nuzhno sil'noe gosudarstvo, no demokraticheskoe i pravovoe," (Russia needs a strong state, but a democratic and legal one), editorial, Rossiiskaia Federatsiia, no. 6 (1994), 4-6. 21 Arbatov, "Russia's Foreign Policy Alternatives," 16. 22 Piskotin, "Rossii nuzhno sil'noe gosudarstvo," 5-6.

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23 Roman Frydman, Andrzej Rapaczynski and John S. Earle, eds., The Privatization Process in Russia, Ukraine, and the Baltic States (London: Central European University Press, 1993), 15; this point is also discussed at length in Archie Brown, "The October Crisis of 1993," 185-87. 24 Philip G. Roeder, "Varieties of Post-Soviet Authoritarianism," PostSoviet Affairs 10, no. 1 (1994), 89. 25 See for instance the discussion on corruption at the 6th Congress of People's Deputies, April 1992, Stenographic Report, published in Foreign Broadcast Information Service, Central Eurasia, FBIS-USR-92082, June 30, 1992. 26 Huntington, Political Order, 59-60. 27 S. Filatov, in 6th Congress of People's Deputies, Stenographic Report, 97. 28 Victor Yasmann, "The Russian Civil Service: Corruption and Reform," RFE/RL Research Report 2, no. 16 (April 16, 1993), 18; see also Alexander Rahr, "Russia: the Struggle for Power Continues," RFE/RL Research Report 2, no. 6 (February 5, 1993), 2. 29 "Komu prinadlezhit' vlast' v Rossii? chast' 1: Prezidentskii Klub," (Who holds power in Russia? part 1: the Presidential Club), Izvestiia, July 4, 1994, 5. 30 Filatov, in 6th Congress of People's Deputies, Stenographic Report, 98. 31 Rett R. Ludwikowski, "Constitution making in the Countries of Former Soviet Dominance: Current Development," Georgia Journal of International and Comparative Law 23, no. 2 (1993), 155-267. 32 Carla Thorson, "Russia," in RFE/RL Research Report, special issue, "Toward the Rule of Law," 1, no. 27 (July 3, 1992), 41-49. Prominent legal expert Valery Savitsky criticized the judiciary for its continuing vulnerability to political influence and bias, and for the inability of the Constitutional Court to shoulder all the burdens placed upon it.Valery Savitsky, "Will There be a New Judicial Power in the New Russia?" Review of Central and East European Law 19, no. 6 (1993), 647-49, 655-56. 33 On this point, I would like to thank Brenda Goddard for making me aware of the importance of Zorkin's role in the Constitutional Court and for conversations with her about the complexities of the rule of law in Russia. Also, see Robert Sharlet, "Russian Constitutional Crisis," 331-32. 34 See the debate on shock therapy, as illustrated in Josef C. Brada, "The Transformation from Communism to Capitalism: How Far? How Fast?" Post-Soviet Affairs 9, no. 2 (1993), 87-110; Peter Murrell, "What is Shock Therapy? What did it do in Russia and Poland?" Post-Soviet

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Affairs 9, no. 2 (1993), 111-140. Another critical view, in addition to that of Murrell, can be found in Padma Desai,"Aftershock in Russia's Economy," Current History 93, no. 585 (October 1994), 320-23. 35 Jerry F. Hough,"The Russian Election of 1993: Public Attitudes toward Economic Reform and Democratization," Post-Soviet Affairs 10, no. 1 (January-March 1994), 5-6; Shevtsova, "Russia Facing New Choices," 321-34. 36 Interview with Ruslan Khasbulatov by M. Piskotin and Iu. Zviagin, "Stanovlenie Rossiiskogo gosudarstva," (The development of the Russian state), Narodnyi deputat 5 (1992), 11. 37 Kullberg, "The Ideological Roots," 947-48; Hough, "The Russian Election of 1993," 5. 38 In fairness to Gaidar, his answer to this retort suggested that he agreed that low-income citizens had paid a price, but that he thought the risks of non-reform were a graver threat than the pains of shock therapy. Tatyana Yakhlakova, "Gaidar's Party Targets the Provinces," Moscow News, no. 38 (September 23-29, 1994), 2. 39 Stephen Fortescue, "Privatization of Russian Industry," Australian Journal of Political Science, 29 (March 1994), 138-41. 40 Thomas F. Remington, "Conclusion: Partisan Competition and Democratic Stability," in Remington, ed., Parliaments in Transition, 217-18. 41 Gennadii Ziuganov, Drama Vlasti (The Drama of Power) (Moscow: Paleia, 1993), 72, 94. 42 Peter Lentini and Troy McGrath, "The Rise of the Liberal Democratic Party and the 1993 Elections," Harriman Institute Forum 7, no. 6 (February 1994), 1-2, 12. 43 Vera Tolz, "The Civic Accord: Contributing to Russia's Stability," RFE/RL Research Report 3, no. 19 (May 13, 1994), 2. 44 Vera Tolz, "Russia's Parliamentary Elections: What Happened and Why," RFE/RL Research Report 3, no. 2 (January 14, 1994), 1. For the response of the regions in the 1993 elections, see Darrell Slider, Vladimir Gimpelson and Sergei Chugrov, "Political Tendencies in Russia's Regions: Evidence from the 1993 Parliamentary Elections," Slavic Review 53, no. 3 (Fall 1994), 711-32. 45 United States Congress, Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe, Russia's Parliamentary Election and Constitutional Referendum (Washington, D.C.: January 1994), 1-5. 46 See articles 85, 111, and 117, Konstitutsiia Rossiiskoi Federatsii (Moscow: Iuridicheskaia Literatura, 1993), 36-37, 48, 51.

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47 McFaul, "Russian Politics: The Calm before the Storm?" Current History 93, no. 585 (October, 1994), 317. 48 Anders Aslund, "Russia's Success Story," Foreign Affairs 73, no. 5 (S eptember-0 ctober 1994) , 60-61. 49 Irina Savvateeva, "Komanda Chernomyrdina v politicheskom inter'erom," (The Chernomyrdin Team in the political interior) Izvestiia, April 14, 1994, 4. 50 McFaul, "Russian Politics," 317-18. A recent artide in the Economist also praised Rybkin, which is rather surprising, given Rybkin's membership in the pro-communist Agrarian Party "Ivan Rybkin: Next in Line?" The Economist, November 5, 1994, 52-53. 51 "Komu prinadlezhit 'vlase v Rossii? chast 3, Parlament: trudnoe ditia," (Who holds power in Russia? part 3, Parliament: a difficult child), Izvestiia, July 7, 1994, 5. 52 Ivan Rybkin, "Toward a Peaceful Parliament," Moscow News, no. 39 (September 30-October 6, 1994), 1. 53 See Tat'iana Khudiakova, "V pravitel'stve est' sotsial'naia programma. No derzhat ee v sekrete," (The government has a social program. But it's keeping it a secret), Izvestiia, April 1, 1994, 4. 54 "President idet na chrezvychainye mery v bor'be protiv rasgula prestupnosti," (The president will adopt extraordinary measures in the struggle against rampant crime), Izvestiia, June 15, 1994, 1. 55 Iurii Feofanov, "Chrezvychainye mery po bor'be s prestupnostiu mogut obernyt'sia proizvolom vlastei," (Abuses of power could pervert the extraordinary measures for the struggle against crime), Izvestiia, July 16, 1994, 1-2. 56 The words in quotation marks are Skorobogatko's. Tatyana Skorobogatko, "Duma Not About to Make Amends with President," Moscow News, no. 41 (October 14-20, 1994), 3. 57 "Russia's Crisis of Capitalism," The Economist, October 15, 1994, 63-64. 58 Valerii Konavalov, "Prezident dal selo Agrarnoi Partii," (The president has given the countryside to the Agrarian Party), Izvestiia, October 29, 1994, 2. 59 "Call That a Reshuffle, Boris?" The Economist, November 12, 1994, 63. 60 Valerii Konavalov and Sergei Chugaev, "Kok Viktoru Stepanovichu dokazat' svoiu liubov' k Rossii?" (How can Viktor Stepanovich [Chernomyrdin] prove his love for Russia?), Izvestiia, October 28, 1994, 1-2.

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61 FormerYeltsin ally Boris Fyodorov said in an October 1994 interview that the government was to blame for the economic situation and advocated abstaining on any confidence vote in the Duma. Tatyana Skorobogatko, "Fyodorov Predicts a Year without Hopes," Moscow News, no. 42, October 21-27, 1994, 2. 62 Anna Ostapchuk and Evgenii Krasnikov, "Gaidar predlozhit vsemirno podderzhivat' prezidenta," (Gaidar offers full support to the president), Nezavisimaia, November 22, 1994, 1. 63 "Russia Bombs Chechen Capital," Globe and Mail, December 19, 1994, A1, A18. 64 For example, Evgenii Krasnikov, "Pokhozhe, Boris Eltsin meniaet ne taktiku, a strategiu" (Apparently Boris Yeltsin is changing not tactics, but strategy) Nezavisimaia, November 18, 1994, 1; Tatyana Skorobogatko, "The Duma Plays Russian Roulette," Moscow News, no. 44 November 4-10, 1994, 3. 65 Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, "Russia's Monroe Doctrine: Peacekeeping, Peacemaking, or Imperial Outreach?" in Maureen Appel Molot and Harald von Riekhoff, eds., Canada Among Nations 1994: A Part of the Peace (Ottawa: Carleton University Press, 1994), 231-65; Zbigniew Brzezinski, Foreign Affairs 73, no. 2 (March-April 1994), 6786; Brian D. Porter and Carol R. Saivetz, "The Once and Future Empire: Russia and the Near Abroad," Washington Quarterly 17, no. 3 (1994), 75-90. 66 Ian Black, "Yeltsin and Clinton Clash over NATO," Manchester Guardian Weekly 151, no. 24, December 11, 1994, 1. 67 Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, "Russia's Monroe Doctrine," 243-45. 68 "Russian Forces Clash with Chechen Rebels," Globe and Mail, December 13, 1994, Al, A8. 69 "Viktor Chernomyrdin: Could Be Worse," The Economist, October 22, 1994, 64. On the "tougher line" in Russian foreign policy, see Richard Burger, "Rethinking Russia;' Moscow News, no. 35, September 2-8, 1994,7. 70 Arbatov, "Russia's Foreign Policy Alternatives," 22. 71 Jonathan Moses, "The Eighteenth Brumaire," Security Dialogue 25, no. 3, (1994), 335-37. 72 Stephen Whitefield and Geoffrey Evans, "The Russian Elections of 1993: Public Opinion and the Transition Process;' Post-Soviet Affairs 10, no. 1 (1994), 45-46. 73 Jerry F. Hough, "America's Russia Policy: the Triumph of Neglect," Current History 93, no. 585 (October 1994), 308-09.

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74 Jeanne Kirk Laux, "From South to East? Financing the Transition in Central and Eastern Europe," in Maureen Appel Molot and Harald von Rielchoff, eds., Canada Among Nations 1994:A Part of the Peace (Ottawa: Carleton University Press, 1994), 187-89. 75 See John M. Lamb, "Canadian Relations with the New Russia: Security Concerns and Policy Responses;' Canadian Foreign Policy 2, no. 1 (Spring 1994), 79-107. 76 House of Commons, Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the Standing Committee on External Affairs and International Trade, Issue no. 24 (February 18, 1992); and Standing Committee on External Affairs and International Trade, June 1992, Strategic Choices: Canadian Policy toward the New Republics of the Former Soviet Union. 77 Strategic Choices, 5-8. This was intended to parallel the importance of people of Baltic and Ukrainian descent in Canadian society 78 Strategic Choices, 13-14. 79 Canada Treaty Series, 1992/21, June 19, 1992. 80 Canada, House of Commons Debates, Official Report (Hansard) 132, no. 162, 3rd session, 34th Parliament, Friday June 19, 1992, 12483-485. 81 Canadian International Relations Chronicle (October-December 1993), 17. 82 Lamb, "Canadian Relations," 9. 83 This echoes a point made by Joan DeBardeleben quoted in Strategic Choices, 13. 84 See remarks by Neil MacFarlane, 7-8, and Lloyd Axworthy, 24-25, in House of Commons, Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the Standing Committee on External Affairs and International Trade, cited above. 85 See Department of External Affairs and International Trade, News Release no. 181, September 22, 1993, and no. 225,13 December 1993. 86 See Daniel ICaufmann,"Market Liberalization in Ukraine:To Regain a Pillar of Economic Reform;' Transition 5, no. 7 (September 1994), 3. 87 Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, News Release no. 216, October 24, 1994.

XIII Markets, Democracy and Security in Latin America

JAMES ROCHLIN

T

hroughout the hemisphere, the road to the democratic ideal is marked by potholes and complications. Within the inter-American system, traditional forms of democracy are weakening, while new forms may be emerging. These include democratic structures associated with the tendency towards regionalism, the development of grassroots democracy expressed through transnational non-governmental organizations (NGOs). Canadian foreign policy must come to grips with the changing face of democracy. The changing relationship between production, democracy and security suggests that Ottawa must formulate a new security agenda in the hemisphere which conforms to regional economic integration. The meaning of democracy is historically specific, and is currently undergoing some considerable transformation. The traditional,

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Western view of liberal democracy includes a "laundry list" of characteristics, many of which remain absent in most of Latin America: a plurality of political parties; clean, regular elections by secret ballot; an independent judiciary; a strong parliament or congress; freedom to assemble and free speech; relatively free media, and access to the media by competing political groups; military and security forces under civilian control and respectful of human rights; and a willingness by the public at large to accept the legitimacy of political institutions and processes. DEMOCRACY, MARKETS AND SOVEREIGNTY IN THE POST-COLD WAR ERA

Some observers have deemed the current historical period to be post-Westphalian, or an era of "post-sovereignty"This is the result of "sea changes" within national and international systems, which are arguably the most sweeping since the 17th century, and which have altered the relationship between democracy, markets and sovereignty. Throughout most of the Cold War period sovereignty signified that national governments generally held a substantial degree of control over the economic, cultural and political systems within state boundaries. In the current era, however, national governments wield steadily decreasing power over their geographical territory.The ascendancy of transnational capital, through both production processes and the mechanisms of international finance, has severely curtailed the sovereign power of governments and their citizens. Spatial boundaries which characterized the previous four hundred years of sovereignty have been obliterated by the faceless and virtually boundless power of roughly 2,000 interlinked monitors in currency trading rooms all over the world.' Transactions on the international currency market are close to $1 trillion (U.S.) per day; one week of such activity exceeds the annual U.S. Gross Domestic Product (GDP).2 Governments seem ever more accountable to transnational capital and the democratic power of the populace is correspondingly diminished.' Governments are perceived to be less capable of grappling with issues of increasing importance to the populace, such as escalating crime rates and ethnic rivalry. One result of this has been

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a crisis of democracy,' in the sense that citizens expect more from the government than it has the capacity to deliver.The crisis is sharpened by contradictions between labour and the state, between national capital and the state, and between the shifting location of core and peripheral regions both within national boundaries and globally. The situation is aggravated in heavily indebted countries such as Canada, where the government finds it more difficult to employ the old formula of spending its way out of economic recessions. Debt has also meant that the apparatus of the central state is shrinking, further diminishing its capabilities. It would be folly to consider the question of democracy as an objective of Canadian foreign policy without appreciating the extent of changes in the "post-sovereign world:' Democracy needs to be conceptualized within the new global context, in terms of the relation between itself and shifts in economic power. Throughout the Western Hemisphere there is a growing gap between the rich and the poor, both within countries and between them.' One must take seriously Stephen Gill's observation that a "harsher, perhaps less democratic and legitimate order seems to be emerging, with a reconcentration of power in favour of large-scale capital.' While certain forms of democracy are eroding, particularly at the level of the central government of the nation state, other forms are emerging. One manifestation of this is a democratic counter-reaction, throughout the hemisphere, to the forces of globalization. It is expressed through attempts at greater political control at the regional level. Paradoxically, globalization and regionalization are two sides of the same coin. One expression of this phenomenon is the desire by some Quebeckers to utilize the democratic process to form a sovereign state. They are motivated by a desire, both historical and generational, for greater political control within the geographical boundaries of Quebec, and this motivation has been strengthened by growing threats to sovereignty and culture. Similarly, California's Proposition 187, passed through a democratic referendum in 1994, illustrated the state's economic desperation in the wake of the defence industry's collapse at the end of the Cold War.The desperation was fuelled by racist sentiments stemming from demographic changes, as a result of which the white population found itself

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headed toward minority status. Amid perceptions that California is besieged by pernicious global influences, this law attempts to exercise the state's sovereign control over its geographic territory by denying illegal immigrants, largely Mexican, the same social rights as those available to U.S. citizens.Yet businesses within California remain as eager as ever to exploit the cheap labour these immigrants have to offer. Mexico, too, is witnessing growing regionalism. This has been exemplified in an "autonomous zone" established by the Zapatista rebels, and in other claims to sovereignty on the part of indigenous groups in Chiapas during 1994 and 1995. While we are witnessing the emergence of the hegemony of transnational capital—through an increasing global match between ideology, institutions and material capabilities—a counter-consensus is appearing. It sometimes takes the form of struggles to preserve or create territorial sovereignty in an era of globalized production, culture, and political power. Canadians will have to grapple with greater regionalism within their borders; and Ottawa's foreign policy must also contend with emerging forces of regionalism within the hemisphere. DEMOCRACY AND INTER-AMERICAN TRADE

In contrast to the uncontested dominance of a North Atlantic focus in Canadian foreign policy during most of the Cold War period, a major concern for Ottawa in the current era is the Americas.The central determinants behind this shift have been transnational changes in the realm of production, as well as the new global security arrangement caused by the disappearance of the Soviet Union. Since Canada's economic and strategic interests are tied more closely to Latin America, it is urgent that Ottawa formulate a coherent policy toward the region.The question arises as to where democracy fits as an objective of current Canadian foreign policy in the Western hemisphere. A point of departure is the relationship between democracy and stability in Latin America. A primary prerequisite for Canadian trade and investment with Latin American countries is political and economic stability. But the association between democracy and stability is country-specific and ambiguous. This is illustrated by the cases of Mexico, Colombia, and Peru.

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In the period leading up the Mexican national elections of August 21, 1994, there was considerable national and international concern that the elections would be followed by massive political and economic instability. In the end, the Mexican elections were generally viewed as the cleanest in the country's history, although there was considerable fraud, especially in the poorest states and in the countryside. Yet it was anybody's guess whether the Mexican elections would generate stability or chaos. In retrospect, we can see that there were two key factors affecting the relationship between elections and stability in Mexico. The first was that stability rested on the strength of the public conviction that the electoral process had been relatively clean. As it turned out, the large and legitimate vote for the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) demonstrated a public willingness to endure the neoliberal integration scheme with the U.S. and Canada in the hopes of achieving a healthier economy and higher standard of living. It was also a vote in favour of the familiarity associated with the PRI, and the stability its re-election would presumably bring. The other key factor related to markets and stability, was that a win by the PRI or the right-wing Partido Accion Nacional (PAN) would have been viewed as consistent with the prevalent model of neoliberalism. By contrast, a win by the left-of-centre Partido de la Revolucion Democratica (PRD) might have produced greater market instability: the PRD was more critical of the transnationalization of the economy, and it was also seen by some as uncomfortably cosy with the Zapatista rebels. A PRD victory might have incited a hostile response by supporters of the neoliberal project and, to this extent, instability could have ensued (but not in its current form). In the Mexican case, therefore, post-election stability rested upon the perception of a relatively clean election and the ultimate victory of a party that harmonized with the emerging hegemony of transnational capital.' It is worth emphasizing that this discussion of the relationship between democracy and stability is, in essence, a discussion of the correlation between elections and stability. Despite the progress made towards a fairer electoral process, it remains appropriate to characterize the Mexican political system as authoritarian rather than democratic. Further, it is not clear whether the near future will bring a new stability to Mexico.

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So far, in our treatment of the relationship between democracy and markets, we have focused only upon the effects of the so-called "legitimate markets:' However, since the mid-1980s, narcotrafficking has been viewed as Latin America's largest multinational industry.' A recent report by the Colombian National Narcotics Board, the first study of its kind, indicated that in 1993 Colombian drug traffickers sold between $5 billion (a conservative estimate, equal to the global sales of the Gillette Corporation) and $13.6 billion (a less conservative estimate, the value of which is equal to the global sales of the Coca-Cola Corporation in that year) worth of cocaine, heroin and marijuana.' Profits accruing to Colombian traffickers alone are estimated to have ranged from $2.5 billion to $7 billion in 1993. Overall, we are confronted with a curious contradiction. There is little doubt as to the popularity of the free trade doctrine in the Americas; yet the illicit business of narcotrafficking represents free trade in the extreme. Not only are these astronomical figures associated with the free trade in drugs startling in and of themselves, they bear profound implications for Latin American democracy and security. With regard to democracy, the primary challenge which narcotrafficking raises is exorbitant corruption. There are innumerable examples of this. In 1994 alone, four crucial cases come to mind. Audio tapes demonstrated that Colombia's new President, Ernesto Samper, had been offered (it is unclear if he accepted) at least $4 million in funding from Colombian traffickers during his campaign.'" Mexican narcotraffickers are among those implicated in the assassination of the Secretary-General of the PRI, Jose Francisco Ruiz Massieu. Serious allegations appeared in June of 1994 that the former Bolivian President, Jaime Paz Zamora, had received huge amounts of cash from drug traffickers in his country." Throughout that year, the wife of Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori, Susana Higuchi, in her bid to run against her husband for the office of president, accused. key members of the Fujimori Government of being in the pockets of narcotraffickers.' Similar tales of corruption can be documented for many countries in the hemisphere. If democracy is an objective of Canadian foreign policy on Latin America, Ottawa will have to grapple with the drug issue. So far, most of the blame for this problem has been placed upon those countries of Latin America whose citizens

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produce, and traffic in, drugs. Little effort has been put into reducing the apparently insatiable consumption patterns in the North which fuel drug production in the South. The only realistic solution is to legalize illicit drugs.'3 This would eradicate the huge profits accruing to bloodthirsty criminals throughout the Americas who are engaged in the illegal trade. Legalization would free the emerging democracies of Latin America from the horrific levels of corruption attributable to drug trafficking. It would produce a more pacific environment by denying certain terrorist groups funds for their role in drug dealing. In consequence, it would save the lives of those who are killed by police and the armed forces in this hopeless but deadly struggle. Such a stance should not be confused with supporting drug use. Indeed, if one wishes to reduce the consumption of such drugs, one should view legalization as a measure freeing up large sums of money which are currently misspent on militarization and interdiction, to be spent instead on education and rehabilitation." There is no question that the current policy is a total failure, with more illicit drugs being produced now than ever before.'s Legalization would have to be multilateral: the United States, as an important political power and the one most responsible for militarizing the campaign against illicit drugs, would have to be lobbied to support it. Colombia, Argentina and European countries such as Germany have already taken the lead by legalizing for personal use relatively small quantities of some previously illicit substances. Canada should follow suit, and should work with the agency responsible for illicit drugs within the Organization of American States (OAS) as well as the United Nations Drug Control Program to press for multilateral legalization. Not only has illicit drug trafficking weakened democracy through corruption, but it has also been a contributing factor in the emergence of a certain type of democracy, sometimes referred to by Latin Americans as "low-intensity democracy," or Fujimorazo. As the latter nomenclature suggests, Peru is the prototype for this development. President Fujimori was elected in 1990 on a political platform which emphasized his resolve to reject a harsh International Monetary Fund (IMF) restructuring program. This contrasted sharply with the platform of his rival, the noted novelist Mario Vargas Llosa, who

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warned Peruvians that IMF-type reforms were inevitable. Almost immediately upon election, however, Fujimori implemented the very same IMF reforms he had campaigned against and these policies were dubbed the Fujishock. In April of 1992, the Fujimori self-coup (or autogolpe) was initiated. It came amidst: 1) economic hardship caused by the shock program; 2) political instability caused by terrorist violence; and 3) the sometimes selfish concerns expressed by the established political parties participating in Congress. The government's fortuitous capture in September 1992 of Abimael Guzman, leader of the revolutionary movement Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) reinforced the self-coup and encouraged the growth of public support for Fujimori.' The President, with the backing of the military, assumed nearly absolute power by suspending the constitution and dissolving Congress. President Fujimori can claim to lead a democratic government in the sense that initially he had an electoral mandate, and opinion polls showed him to hold 60 percent of public support through late 1994. He can boast that he has done much to restore both economic viability and political order, with Sendero Luminoso all but defeated. Peru's economy, after passing through an initial phase of contraction associated with the economic shock program, grew at a rate of 12 percent in the first five months of 1994. However, employment remains at 64 percent of 1979 levels, the purchasing power of current salaries is 40 percent of what it was in 1987, and there has not been adequate assistance for the huge poverty-stricken population." In short, low-intensity democracy is characterized by the election of a head of state who subsequently assumes nearly absolute power. The purpose is to confront intense warfare within a civil society polarized by class, ethnic and regional issues, destabilization associated with illicit drug production and trafficking, and an economy under global siege for being out of step with the project of transnational capital." Similar understanding of democracy is far from conventional usage in Western developed countries. Low-intensity democracy may spread to other countries in Latin America where situations may exist similar to those in Peru. In 1994, Venezuelan President Rafael Caldera, and an important senator in

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Bolivia (the brother of President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada), threatened to bring Fujimorazo to their respective countries. An earlier attempt to install such a model in Guatemala failed. In all those cases, the context was market volatility, in a variety of dimensions, coupled with political instability and the concomitant emergence of profound security problems. Venezuela remains the likeliest candidate for lowintensity democracy, due to the economic predicament of the country. Once again we arrive at a novel intersection between stability and democracy. Ottawa must be clear as to which types of democracy it is willing to support in its foreign policy objectives, and how its choice relates to the presumably primary goal of stability in Latin America. Ottawa's views on democracy must be pragmatic: it must avoid any temptation to project liberal democratic structures associated with developed states on to developing countries which may be trapped in economic destitution, class conflict, political chaos, and civil war. Canada must also develop effective policies to address those perils, so that more advanced forms of democracy may develop. This section has focused upon the notion of democracy within states.A theorist of post-modern international relations, R.B.J.Walker challenges the commonly accepted notion of the "inside/outside" duality, that is, the aspiration to democracy and community within states, in contrast to an often non-democratic Hobbesian struggle between them.' With this in mind, the present chapter addresses the issue of democracy in relation to inter-American organizations, as well as the development of transnational democracy among various non-governmental organizations. A key challenge in the Western Hemisphere is that of achieving a greater degree of democracy not only in the OAS but also within the emerging institutions of trade pacts." Democracy in this sense implies greater political power for states other than the United States. Despite the emergence of an ideological consensus which diminishes interstate friction in the Americas, it is realistic to assume that the United States will generally continue to possess the capacity to bully other states into accepting its position when controversies appear.The quest for Canada, now as in the past, is to reduce this potentiality. There are hopeful signs that Canada's current Liberal government is attempting to accomplish exactly that. On his official visit to Mexico in March,

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1994, which was tragically upstaged by the assassination of PRI candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio, Prime Minister Chretien urged that Canada and Mexico should work together in an attempt to counter the colossal power of the United States. It is, however, not only a question of the political will of Ottawa and Mexico City to work together; as of yet there is no clear view as to where Canadian and Mexican interests intersect and diverge with respect to particular issues. Further, Roy MacLaren, Canada's Minister for International Trade, has suggested that the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) be expanded to include not only Latin American countries, but rich Oceana and Asian countries as well.' Here, too, there is the hint of a multilateral attempt to reduce U.S. power within NAFTA, thereby making the institutional structure of this trade agreement more democratic. Again, the questions of political will and converging interests must be addressed. Beyond this, there is an obvious relationship between the economic power of states and their political power. Canada's chances of diluting U.S. power in multilateral institutions are better if it aligns itself with a group of like-minded countries, including as many relatively rich states as possible. Another positive development in the hemisphere is the emergence of grassroots-transnational democracy among NGOs. An international conference was held in Mexico City in July 1994, the first meeting of its kind in the NAFTA era. It included NGO representatives from the three member countries. The conference, entitled "Integration, Democracy, and Development - Towards a Social Agenda for the Continent," was designed to coordinate the efforts of disparate NGOs to work together democratically on the common agenda of countering what are considered to be the pernicious effects of economic integration in North America.' As we saw, in some ways democracy may be weakening within states. But there is the potential for democracy to be strengthened between them, as well as for the development of grassroots-transnational democracy among NGOs. MARKETS, DEMOCRACY AND SECURITY

The 1990s have heralded the unfortunate discovery that the world is more insecure than ever, despite the evaporation of U.S.-Soviet rivalry

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However, there is a positive side, too, since it is now possible to redefine security in a progressive way and within a more democratic context. The Canadian Government has been attempting to formulate a foreign policy which harmonizes with the features of the post-Cold War era." For this purpose, the most immediate task will be to conceptualize the link between democracy, markets and security in the Western hemisphere, in broader terms than those illustrated by the examples discussed in the previous section. What is so fascinating at the current juncture is that not only are events proceeding at an astoundingly rapid pace,24 but the mode of analyzing international relations is in a state of tremendous flux. Realism, the most enduring perspective on international relations, with conceptual roots dating back over 2,400 years, is currently being refashioned to deal with new global realities." The classical writings of Thucydides, Clausewitz, and Machiavelli, for example, are now being revisited in ways which produce interpretations of realism different from those predominantly employed by U.S. scholars during the Cold War period." Indeed, theorists such as Daniel Garst provide a rather provocative case that the writings of Thucydides have more in common with the perspectives of Antonio Gramsci and Hannah Arendt than with endeavours of cold warriors such as Henry Morgenthau." This revised realist argument focuses upon power defined as a hegemony of consent," and the ability of like-minded people or groups to work in concert for common objectives—a point alluded to above with respect to Canada's attempt to democratize NAFTA, and with regard to the agenda of North American NG0s. Others who have marched under the banner of neorealismKenneth Waltz, Samuel Huntington and Theodore Moran—now utilize the same fundamental principles of realism that were expressed in strategic-military terms during the Cold War, but extrapolate them to the development of what they view as trade bloc rivalry during the post-Cold War era." The emergence of trade areas has given rise to new-found security concerns not only between these areas, but within them. With inter-American economic integration have come new responsibilities in the realm of security. There is no clearer reminder

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of this than the Chiapas uprising which received international attention at the beginning of 1994." While the entire NAFTA debate focused almost solely upon economic, and to a very limited extent, social issues, there was virtually nothing in the literature which expressed any concern whatsoever with Mexican security as it related to NAFTA. This was a serious oversight. Since 1994 we have been witnessing the "Colombianization" of Mexico: the escalation there of guerrilla warfare, political homicide, terrorism, narcotics trafficking, general crime rates, and human rights abuses.' Political instability has contributed to $9 billion in capital flight during the first half of 1994, a virtual doubling of interest rates within a stalled economy, and finally a speculative attack on the peso at the end of 1994." NAFTA negotiations rested on what may be the false assumption that Mexico was a stable country.' Another relevant insight of realism, in its various formulation, is Thomas Hobbes' observation of the historical relationship between fear and security. It is fear that motivates individuals and groups to seek security through governmental-institutional mechanisms. While fears, conceptions of security, and the design of institutional mechanisms change over time, Hobbes' central principle of the relation between them is as pertinent now as ever.What do we fear today, and how do our present fears differ from those of the previous historical era? How must our conceptions of security be revised so that we can grapple with new fears? This question begs two more: whose fears and security for whom? There is a clear relationship between these questions and democracy In Canada, for example, the process of redefining security under the Liberal government resulted in a national forum on the topic, and a cross-country road show aimed at seeking a variety of perspectives, before the government issued its Statement in early 1995. That kind of participatory process is absent in many of the developing countries in the Americas. Since democracy is generally weak, security is defined solely by the state, and usually by the executive in conjunction with the armed forces. For the most part, security in Latin America is conceived in relation not to external threats but to internal challenges to the status quo,' to the state, and to the interests of national and transnational capital.'

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Under such circumstances, the state may actually threaten the security of its citizens through a variety of mechanisms, including human rights abuses and structural violence, and by perpetuating problems which it is ostensibly devoted to resolving, such as corruption. If the concentration of power within the state in many parts of Latin America has resulted in a "security racket:' so to speak, what security issues might be defined in a more democratic context? Canada should encourage the reconceptualization of security in the Americas, to include themes such as feminist perspectives, class conflict, human rights abuses, racism, the environment, and immigration. Although these topics are to be treated separately, there is often an obvious relationship between them. While Sandra Whitworth's chapter addresses the general relationship between feminism and Canadian foreign policy, the brief discussion here will focus upon feminism and inter-American security. Although there exists a diverse assortment of feminist standpoints, perhaps the most impressive and convincing theoretical work in this regard is that ofV. Spike Peterson.' In a post-modern critique of positivist and binary approaches to the fields of international relations and global security, Peterson traces the historical evolution of security concepts which are fundamentally masculine constructions. With a more participatory and inclusionary democratic process as the instrument, the task is to employ a feminist approach to dissect and eradicate such biases inherent in mainstream perspectives of security. Hence, the project is initially a conceptual one, which goes beyond the "bean-counter" method of simply adding women to committees which grapple with security matters. A number of relevant themes have emerged from such theoretical enterprises. In reference to the Americas, the security issues include: sex tourism; structural violence against women, which conceptualizes pain as inflicted in ways other than the sole application of brute force, for example, through the feminization of poverty; protection from physical violence perpetrated by males (rape, assault and battery); women and reproductive rights; threats to women in new production relations, exemplified by hazards to workplace safety apparent in maquiladora industries; the role of women in relation to the armed forces; and the relation of women to revolutionary struggles."

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It is also important to note that women's groups have made significant contributions to democratic progress and security matters in the Americas, as for example, in Argentina, where the Mothers of the Plazo de Mayo protested the disappearances of their children, and also in Chile, where women created soup kitchens which gave birth to broad-ranging political organizations during the Pinochet dictatorship. Class, as an analytical variable, is out of fashion in an era characterized by the hegemony of neoliberalism.38 But one does not have to be a Marxist to realize that class conflict remains the fundamental factor with regard to a number of struggles in the Americas. These include the simmering Central American disputes (largely forgotten now that their strategic significance has waned in the aftermath of the Cold War), the debacle in Haiti, the Zapatista uprising in Mexico," and the civil wars in Colombia and Peru. Further, those cases demonstrate the conceptual convergence of economic democracy and inter-American security. It is time to unbuckle the ideological straightjacket of the Cold War and to recognize class conflict as one of the central security concerns of the hemisphere, one which is threatening, among other things, successful economic integration within the Americas. Signs of incremental progress in this direction are already appearing. An example is the new-found appreciation, on the part of institutions such as the World Bank, that poverty remains the number one threat to free market development in Latin America.' More fundamentally, the focus should be directed toward the questions of what is produced and why and how it is produced, and to the system of distribution of product and profit. Human rights represent another key security concern in the hemisphere. It is strongly related to other themes noted in this section, and any improvement in this realm is closely tied to democratization. Human rights abuses persist throughout Latin America, and are also present in less obvious forms in the United States and Canada. Overall, they include: violation of civil rights by security forces (arbitrary arrest, torture, disappearances); the absence of social justice in judicial and electoral realms; curtailed political liberties; and the lack of proper food, shelter, and education for significant portions of the population, among many other forms of abuse.

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Racism continues to be a grave security threat throughout the Americas. Demonstrative of its expression in developed countries are the Los Angeles riots and Canada's Mohawk crisis earlier in the decade. In Latin America examples such as the Chiapas uprising and the revolutionary conflict in Peru indicate the presence of racial factors in profound security problems. Further, Patricia Mische points to the "latent racism" apparent in "ecological apartheid," whereby the North uses the South for toxic dump sites.' Although it seems much easier said than done, one astute observer helpfully suggests that "...it is not by synthesis but by learning to live with irreconcilable differences and multiple identities—in high theory and in everyday practice—that we might find our best hope for international relations."' Finally, we shall address the notion of"walls" and security. In some important domains, walls are falling. We have already noted this with respect to markets and production. Another obvious area where barriers are disintegrating is the relationship between the environment and security. At a minimum, new definitions of security must entail the perpetuation of human existence—and this is threatened by ecocide. There exists a frightening roster of environmental threats. For instance, it is important to note that in 1994 soil degradation affected 25 percent of Mexican land.' Not only do such figures convey an alarming pace of ecological damage which has global implications, but such ecocide will likely result in political and strategic problems, as local populations find themselves unable to subsist. Obviously, this sort of potential instability potentially undermines the climate for successful economic integration under NAFTA. Another related example worth mentioning is Haiti. As one scholar has noted, "While many of the boat people who fled to the United States left because of the brutality of the Duvalier regimes...many were forced into boats by the impossible task of farming bare rock. Until Haiti is reforested, it will never be politically stable."' Hence, the well-meaning attempts by Canada, the u.s. and other countries at constructing democracy in Haiti will be confronted by environmental challenges. While some walls are crumbling during the post-sovereign epoch, others are being erected. Perhaps most alarming in this hemisphere is the creation of what some Mexicans have dubbed the "New Berlin

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Wall," that is, the intense refortification of the fence along the U.S.Mexican frontier. This wall represents a significant strengthening of an existing physical barrier, the installation of additional electronic surveillance devices, and the provision of considerably more immigration troops on the u.s. side of the border.' Like the original Berlin Wall of the Cold War, this fence is a vivid insult to human freedom and dignity. It is just one more reminder of the developmental chasm between the rich North and the poverty-stricken South and it signals that immigration is destined to become an increasingly important security issue in the Americas. To meet this challenge, developed countries such as Canada and the United States must address the task of shaping an integration process which entails sustainable and relatively equitable development throughout the Americas. Thus the question of "security for whom?" must be twinned with the question of "development for whom?" A CONCLUDING THOUGHT: NEW DEMOCRACY AND COMMON FATES

Canadian foreign policy towards Latin America must reflect an understanding of the rapid and profound changes associated with the relationship between production, democracy and security. Further, while it seems daunting enough these days simply to (re)establish some sense of community within Canada, let alone to engage in the historical project of constructing a global community which transcends spatial boundaries, reality dictates that we must try. Perhaps a starting point will be a regional endeavour aimed at forging a democratic and secure inter-American community As a member of both the OAS and NAFTA, Canada is well placed to make a significant contribution to such a venture.

NOTES 1 See Walter Wriston, "The Twilight of Sovereignty," Fletcher Forum, Summer 1993, 117-30. 2 Reported in The News, Mexico City, July 4, 1994.

ROCHLIN 273 3 Related to this, although formulated from a perspective distinct from the one presented here, is the notion of the "moral crisis of democracy" faced by states in the current era. See, for example, Charles S. Maier, "Democracy and its Discontents," Foreign Affairs 73, no. 4 (July/August 1994) 48-64. 4 For a different perspective on the crisis of democracy, one which emphasizes a moral element, see Maier, "Democracy and its Discontents," 48-64. 5 See, for example, Samuel D. Porteous, "Populism, Unemployment and Foreign Policy," Canadian Foreign Policy 2, no. 1 (Spring 1994), 137-46. 6 Stephen Gill, "Reflections on Global Order and Sociohistorical Time," Alternatives 16, no. 3 (1991), 310. 7 While the Mexican elections were the cleanest in the country's history, it is important to appreciate their limitations. As noted by Raul Benitez, who is working with the new Zedillo government to fashion a new security agenda in Mexico:"...this new-born democracy is shallow. It is characterized by a plurality of political parties and periodic elections, but other elements necessary for an effective political process—such as an independent judiciary, strong parliaments, and military and security forces that respect the law and human rights—are notably absent." From Raul Benitez Manuat, "Identity Crisis: The Military in Changing Times," NACLA: Report on the Americas 17, no. 2 (September-October 1993), 15. 8 See Rochlin, Discovering the Americas, (Vancouver: UBC Press), 1994, Chapter 11, and Cynthia McClintock, "The War on Drugs: The Peruvian Case," Journal of Inter-American Studies and World Affairs 30 (Summer 1988), 128. 9 For an analysis of this, see Andean Commission of Jurists, Drug Trafficking Update, no. 52, Lima, August 8, 1994, 6-7. 10 See Andean Commission, 4. 11 See Andean Commission, 8. 12 See, for example, Latin American Weekly Report, no. 34, September 8, 1994, 2. 13 I have come to change my opinion on this issue, with respect to views I expressed earlier in works such as Discovering the Americas. 14 The White House has requested at least $151,000 for the 1995 fiscal year, to be spent on fighting narcotics in South America. In comparison, in Federal Year 1992, the U.S. spent about $200 million on military aid and police training for the war against drugs in Colombia, Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador. Obviously, this does not include U.S. funds

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for militarization and interdiction efforts elsewhere. See: P. Andreas and K. Sharpe, "Cocaine Politics in the Andes," Current History: (February 1992); and J. Rochlin, Discovering the Americas. 15 There exists considerable documentation for this. See, for example, P. Andreas, et. al., "Dead End Drug Wars," Foreign Policy, no. 85 (Winter 1991-1992). 16 Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) is a political movement seeking to overthrow the Peruvian state. Originally based in the Ayacucho province, its leaders espouse a Maoist ideology. 17 See Latin American Regional Report:Andean Group Reportjune 30, 1994, 7, and Latin American Weekly Report, July 14, 1994, 305. 18 For another view of low-intensity democracy, see Abraham Lowenthal, "Latin America: Ready For Partnership?" Foreign Affitirs, no. 72, 1993. 19 See R.B.J. Walker, Inside/Outside (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993). 20 For a conceptual discussion of this, see David Held, "Past, Present, and Possible Futures," Alternatives, no. 18 (1993), 259-71. 21 See Roy MacLaren, "The Road from Marrakech: The Quest for Economic Internationalism in an Age of Ambivalence," Canadian Foreign Policy 2, no. 1 (Spring 1994), 1-8. This view is shared by the Mexican Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs, Andres Rozental, La Jornada, October 21, 1994. 22 Conceptually, a critical theory perspective would classify such a development as the emergence of a serious counter-hegemonic project. For a post-modern conceptualization of this, see Simon Dalby, "Security Modernity, Ecology: The Dilemmas of Post-Cold War Security Discourse," Alternatives 17, no. 1 (1992), 95-134, especially at 115. 23 The Government's national forum identified six threats to Canadian security: demographic pressures; environmental degradation; world poverty; proliferation of weapons of mass destruction; ethnic and regional wars; and instability in the former Soviet Republics. See Globe and Mail, July 11, 1994.A parallel project is "Canada 21," see Canadian Foreign Policy 2, no. 1 (Spring 1994). 24 For an excellent article which conceptualizes the significance of speed in international relations, see James Der Derian, "The (S)pace of International Relations: Simulation, Surveillance, and Speed," International Studies Quarterly 34, no. 3 (1990), 295-310.

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25 The notion that conceptions of realism are historically specific is dealt with by Richard K. Ashley, "The Geopolitics of Geopolitical Space: Toward a Critical Social Theory of International Relations," Alternatives 12, no. 4 (1987), 403-434. 26 See, for example,Wallcer, Inside/Outside. 27 See Daniel Garst, "Thucydides and Neo-Realism," International Studies Quarterly 33, no. 1 (March 1989), 3-27. With regard to a work which focuses specifically upon a revisionist view of HannahArendt, see Jeffrey Isaac, "Oases in the Desert: Hannah Arendt on Democratic Politics," American Political Science Review 88, no. 1 (March 1994), 156-88. 28 This perspective has been utilized by critical theorists such as: Robert Cox, Production, Power and World Order (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987); Stephen Gill, "Refections on Global Order and Sociohistorical Time," Alternatives 16, no. 3 (1991), 275-314; and Rochlin, Discovering the Americas. 29 See: Samuel Huntington, "Why International Primacy Matters," International Security 17, no. 4 (Spring 1993), 68-83;Theodore H. Moran, "An Economics Agenda for Neorealists," International Security 18, no. 2 (1993), 211-15; and Kenneth Waltz, "The Emerging Structure of International Politics," International Security 18, no. 2 (Fall 1993), 44-79. 30 Experts on the Chiapas situation will note that uprisings in that state can be traced back for decades, and so it is incorrect to say that the uprising began in January 1994. See, for example: Patricia Gomes Cruz and Christina Kovic, Con Un Pueblo Vivo, En Tierra Negada (San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas: Centro de Derechos Humanos Fray Bartolome de las Casas, 1994); and Mario Monroy, ed., Pensar Chiapas, Repensar Mexico (San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas: Convergencia de Organismos por la Democracia, 1994). 31 Indeed, Bogota's leading newspaper, El Spectador, offered the ominous premonition in the summer of 1994 that Mexico is bound to become the "new Colombia!' Similar assessments are made by the peace negotiator for the Chiapas uprising, Samuel Ruiz, La Jornada, October 18, 1994, and by academics in Mexico: for example, interview by author with Professors Jorge Lopez and Juan Gonzalez, Universidad Nacional Auuinoma de Chiapas, San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico, October 13 and 14, 1994. This is not to say that there are not important distinctions between the Colombian and Mexican cases, in terms of political culture and historical development, both economical and political. Moreover,"Colombianization" of Mexico is an exaggeration, since Mexico pales in comparison to Colombia with regard to human rights abuses, crime, narcotrafficking, etc.

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32

Mexico City. News, October 24, 1994.

33 This issue is dealt with in James Rochlin, Redefining Mexican Security Under NAFTA (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, forthcoming). 34 See, for example, Maria Cristina Rojas Gonzalez, "Las Nuevas Concepciones sobre Seguridad Internacional," Relaciones Internacionales, UNAM, Mexico City, no. 59 (September 1993), 19-25. 35 A clear example of this is the Chiapas situation, where the military and police for decades have attacked and intimidated the indigenous population when it seeks greater equity and land reform. 36 See: V. Spike Peterson, ed., Gendered States: Feminist (Re)Visions of International Relations Theory (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1992);V. Spike Peterson, "The Politics of Identity in International Relations," The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs 17, no. 2 (Summer 1993), 1-12. See also: Georgina Waylen, "Women and Democratization: Conceptualizing Gender Relations in Transition Politics," World Politics 46, no. 3 (April 1994), 327-54; Lynn Stephen, "Women in Mexico's Popular Movements," Latin American Perspectives 19, no. 31 (Winter 1992), 73-96; J. Arm Tickner, Gender in International Relations: Feminist Perspectives on Achieving Global Security (NewYork: Columbia University Press, 1992); and Judith Hellman, "Making Women Visible: New Works on Latin American and Caribbean Women," Latin American Research Review 27, no. 1 (1992), 182-91. 37 This theme is dealt with at length in J. Rochlin, Redefining Mexican Security, and is based in part upon interviews by the author with, for example: Marta Figueroa, Grupo de Mujeres, San Cristobal de Las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico, October 6, 1994; Pilar Muriedas, Salud Integral Para las Mujeres, Mexico City, September 27, 1994; Profesora Walda Barrios, Universidad Autonoma de Chiapas, San Cristóbal de Las Casas, October 10, 1994; Malu Valenzuela, Grupo de EducaciOn Popular con Mujeres, Mexico City, September 23, 1994; and Ifigenia Martinez, Directora, Instituto de Estudios Sobre Revoluciones, Mexico City, September 23, 1994. 38 See, for example, Jose Nun, "Democracy and Modernization, Thirty Years Later," Latin American Perspectives 20, no. 4 (Fall 1993), 7-27. 39 More generally, it is relevant to note that the richest 24 families in Mexico earn as much annually as the poorest 25 million citizens of the country. La Jornada, October 1, 1994. 40 The News, Mexico City, September 15, 1994. 41 See Patricia M. Mische, "Ecological Security and the Need to Reconceptualize Security," Alternatives 14, no. 4 (1989), 399.

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42 Der Derian, S(p)ace, 303. 43 World Resource Institute, World Resources 1994-1995 (New York: World Resource Institute, 1994), 7 and 132. 44 See Jessica Tuchman Mathews,"Redefining Security," Foreign Affairs 68, no. 2 (Spring 1989), 168. 45 See, for example: John Saxe Fernandez, "Latin America and the United States After the Cold War: Preliminary Strategic Notes," Proceedings of the Conference of Latin American and Caribbean Research Institutes (New York: United Nations, 1993), 159-82. It should also be noted that there are obvious differences between the former Berlin Wall and the U.S.Mexican frontier.

XIV Democratic Governance in an Era of Global Finance

ERIC HELLEINER

I

n the past, it has not been terribly common for the dynamics of the global financial system to be discussed when a group of political scientists have gathered to analyze Canadian foreign policy International finance has traditionally been seen as belonging more appropriately to the academic domain of monetary economists trained in the latest mathematical techniques. However, as the appearance of the present chapter in this volume suggests, such a division of labour is no longer justifiable. Global financial markets have emerged as one of the central pillars of the post-Cold War world order and any discussion of political choices and state policy within this order must place them at the forefront. Some understanding of the new global financial system is particularly important for the study of the limits and possibilities of democratic forms of governance in the emerging world order. As David Held

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has recently suggested, a basic paradox of the post-Cold War global political environment appears to be that democratic ideals have triumphed in an era when the efficacy of democracy as a national form of political organization is increasingly jeopardized by the pressures of "globalization."' Since the globalization trend is especially apparent in the financial sector, it is here that the challenges to democratic governance are likely to be particularly striking. This paper explores the relationship between financial globalization and democratic politics in the context of advanced industrial states such as Canada.The first section emphasizes that the tension between global financial markets and democratic governments is not a new one: it was witnessed for the first time during the interwar period, an experience which prompted delegates to the Bretton Woods conference to endorse the use of capital controls in the post-1945 world.The second section asks why democratic states in recent years have dismantled these controls, which were designed to protect democratic politics from global financial market pressures. The third section examines the possibility that financial globalization and democratic government may be incompatible, and enquires how democratic values might be strengthened in the new financial world. Finally, the essay concludes with a discussion of the particular relevance of the issues in the Canadian context. HOW NEW IS THE TENSION BETWEEN GLOBAL FINANCE AND DEMOCRACY?

Discussions of the contemporary globalization of finance sometimes demonstrate a tendency to overstate the novelty of the trend. Global financial markets are, after all, not unique to our era. Between the late nineteenth century and the early 1930s in particular international capital markets flourished and financial capital was sent around the world in enormous volumes and at great speed. Does this historical experience contain any lessons about the relationship between democracy and global financial markets that may be instructive in the current period? The lessons from the pre-1914 period would seem to be few, for the simple reason that only a very limited form of democratic control over money and finance existed across the industrial world in those years. In

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the words of Brian Johnson, this was the age of"oligarchic money" when financial affairs were controlled by a powerful elite of private financiers and central bankers committed to maintaining the convertibility of currencies into gold and the free movement of international capital.' Their autonomy with regard to domestic political forces derived in part from the limited nature of the electoral franchise; until the early years of this century the vote in most industrial countries was restricted to middle and upper class males. Autonomy also stemmed from the fact that key policy making bodies in the financial sector were not yet fully public institutions. Most central banks, for example, remained private profitseeking institutions until well into the present century. When, after World War One, policy makers sought to reconstruct the "globalized" financial order of the pre-1914 period, the difficulties involved in reconciling global finance and democracy became readily apparent for the first time.The insulation of monetary and financial issues from democratic pressures did not survive the war and its aftermath. In particular, the widening of the electoral franchise during and after the war incorporated such issues into the realm of mass democratic politics. As several recent works of economic history have demonstrated, this new, more inclusive and democratic domestic policital environment played an important role in undermining the post-1918 initiative to rebuild a stable liberal global financial order in two important ways.3 First, the democratic domestic political environment encouraged the growth of new disruptive and speculative international capital movements. In the pre-1914 period, such movements had been rare, in part because financial market actors had perceived as "credible" the commitment of central banks to maintain the gold convertibility of their currencies given that central bankers faced few domestic pressures. In the new "democratic" world after 1918, however, central banks could no longer be trusted. These institutions were now heavily pressured by domestic groups to pursue monetary policies that targeted internal goals, such as the reduction of unemployment, instead of the pre-1914 objective of maintaining the external convertibility of the currency. Speculative financial movements were also encouraged by the fact that governments could no longer be trusted to pursue the "proper" disciplined fiscal policies amid the post-war domestic political struggles over appropriate levels of government spending and taxes.

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New types of disruptive, "politically motivated" capital flight appeared after 1918, in response to fears on the part of wealthy classes that leftof-centre governments would soon levy taxes on their assets. These various types of new speculative capital movements contributed substantially to the instability of the post-1918 global financial order, as well as to its eventual collapse in the financial crisis of the early 1930s. The "democratization" of monetary and financial policy making also undermined the efforts of central banks to cooperate with each other in preserving global financial stability in this new, more volatile environment. Such cooperation had been crucial in preventing major international financial crises in the pre-1914 era and it had been fostered then by the relative freedom of central banks from domestic political pressures. In the new political atmosphere of the 1920s, however, efforts to rebuild this kind of "central bankers' internationalism" proved less than successful. Despite the exhortations of bankers, demanding that the independence of central banks be preserved, the efforts of these institutions to coordinate policy in the 1920s could only be sporadic, because of the new domestic constraints on their activities.Thus, they were unable to prevent the breakdown in the early 1930s of the global financial order. The post-1918 period, therefore, demonstrated the difficulties involved in reconciling a liberal global financial order with the new more inclusive democratic form of politics being practised domestically across the industrial world.While bankers in the 1920s had sought to resolve the tension between global finance and democracy by curtailing the latter, the financial crisis of the early 1930s signalled that it was to be the liberal global financial order that would be sacrificed instead. And not surprisingly, once the external discipline of the gold standard and global financial markets disappeared after 1931, the post-1918 efforts to make money and finance begin to serve national political goals simply accelerated: central banks were nationalized; monetary policy became targeted more than ever at domestic goals; regulations governing the domestic activities of private financiers were introduced; and controls over the international movement of money were put in place. The triumph of national political objectives over the imperatives of a liberal global financial order was confirmed at the 1944 Bretton Woods conference, when the use of capital controls in the post-war

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period was strongly endorsed by the delegates. Indeed, the architects of the Bretton Woods Agreements—John Maynard Keynes and Harry Dexter White—explained more clearly than anyone yet had why a liberal international financial order was not necessarily compatible with the new democratic pressures and more inclusive national governing structures. From their standpoint, the key problem with a liberal financial order was that it prevented democratic governments from choosing to manage money and finance in the interests of the people who elected them. In what ways did a liberal financial order inhibit the policy autonomy of democratic governments? First, Keynes and White noted that capital controls were needed to prevent speculative capital movements from disrupting the new national macroeconomic planning techniques that had emerged during the 1930s. Second, they argued that such controls were required to discourage tax-evading financial flows from undermining domestic tax policy objectives, particularly when account was taken of the fiscal needs of the growing welfare state. Keynes also noted that regulations over domestic financial and monetary activity, introduced during the 1930s to direct credit and supervise finance according to political priorities, would be difficult to maintain if savers and borrowers could evade the regulations through active participation in foreign financial markets. Finally, both Keynes andWhite argued that democratic governments needed to be protected from the disruptive impact of capital flows motivated by "political reasons" or by a desire on the part of elite groups to evade the "burdens of social legislation."4 WHY DID DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENTS LIBERALIZE CAPITAL CONTROLS?

Fifty years after the Bretton Woods conference, a liberal globalized financial order has been established. In view of the lessons learned in the 1920s and the views expressed at Bretton Woods, one may ask why have democratic governments in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) region permitted global financial markets to re-emerge? According to some observers, governments have not in fact had much say in the matter. From this standpoint, the globalization of finance since the 1960s has been the

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result of unstoppable technological and market pressures. As I have argued elsewhere, however, this view is not easily defended.' Although technological and market developments have been important, states have themselves actively encouraged the globalization process in various ways. Particularly important have been their decisions to liberalize capital controls in recent years. It is necessary, therefore, to explain why democratic states have chosen to liberalize the controls on cross-border financial movements which were designed to protect their own policy autonomy. Part of the answer is that policy makers have been driven by objectives unrelated to the issue of policy autonomy. One such objective has been that of enhancing the international attractiveness and competitiveness of each country's financial sector: footloose global financial business and capital are likely to be drawn to more liberalized and deregulated financial systems. A second aim has been that of satisfying the demands of increasingly internationalized financial and industrial firms, which seek to rid themselves of cumbersome restrictions on their growing cross-border economic activities. These two objectives appear to have taken precedence over the Bretton Woods goal of preserving the policy autonomy of democratic states for a simple reason. Both promised to bring immediate and visible political benefits to governments: the attraction of financial business or capital, and the political support of powerful internationally oriented firms. In contrast, the loss of policy autonomy that would accompany financial liberalization was a cost that was less immediately apparent and was more difficult for the general public and even key policy makers to understand. Indeed, it is striking that the financial liberalization decisions taken across the advanced industrial world over the last two decades rarely prompted a widespread public and democratic debate about these costs. However, democratic governments liberalized capital controls not just because of"competitive deregulation" concerns and the demands of internationally oriented firms. They were also influenced by increasingly popular neoliberal ideas that called into question the desirability of the Bretton Woods goal of maintaining the policy autonomy of democratic governments with respect to financial market pressures. Neoliberal thinkers—led above all by Friedrich Hayek

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and Milton Friedman—have argued that democratic governments should not be given this kind of policy autonomy because shortterm political considerations and the demands of special interest groups inevitably prompt them to pursue monetary and financial policies that are injurious to a healthy market economy and individual liberties. According to this perspective, governments can only be trusted to preserve an appropriate monetary and financial order if they are constrained by a set of "constitutional rules." In addition to favouring the guaranteed independence of central banks and automatic money supply targets, neoliberals view the prohibition of the use of capital controls as an additional important "rule" constraining inappropriate government behaviour. From their viewpoint, the elimination of capital controls not only encourages a more efficient allocation of capital and removes a set of restrictions on individual liberty; it also ensures that democratic governments are appropriately disciplined by international financial markets when they attempt to pursue policies in the macroeconomic, tax and regulatory realms that undermine the vitality and freedoms of a market economy. For neoliberals, therefore, the re-emergence of a liberal global financial order is viewed as a development which is helping to turn back the perceived loss of individual freedom and excesses in economic policy, produced by active governmental control of money and finance during the middle decades of this century.6 Although neoliberals want constraints placed on the freedom of action of democratic governments in the monetary and financial realm, their position should not be misconstrued as an anti-democratic one. Rather, they are simply putting forward a very different notion of "democracy" from that which Keynes and White advanced at Bretton Woods. Using C.B. Macpherson's terminology, they are advocating a kind of "protective" democracy of the sort that nineteenth century liberals had also favoured.' According to this conception, the function of democratic governments is limited to that of "protecting" the individual liberties and structures of a market economy that are seen to be the necessary preconditions for a free and democratic society. The government's role within the economy is to be prevented from going beyond the task of establishing the rules and constitutional setting within which the market can function.With this

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different conception of democracy, neoliberals appear to offer a possible reconciliation of the tension between democratic government and global financial integration. From their viewpoint, financial globalization does not undermine democracy (as Keynes and White had suggested) but rather strengthens it, in this "protective" form, by eliminating restrictions on individual freedom and preventing governments from pursuing policies that might undermine a market economy. DEMOCRACY IN THE NEW GLOBAL FINANCIAL ORDER?

How persuasive is this argument that financial globalization and the spread of democracy are mutually reinforcing? Three weaknesses are highlighted by critics of neoliberalism. First, the "protective" model of democracy is said to offer too limited an idea of democratic politics. In particular, it seems to remove from the realm of democratic decision making basic choices relating to the issue of how the economy might be organized. Indeed, in the neoliberal conception, democracy appears to be merely a means to an end, with the end being the protection and preservation of a market economy and liberal society. However, from the standpoint of the Bretton Woods architects and many contemporary critics of financial globalization, a broader conception of democracy would allow for the possibility of a democratic government choosing to implement policies that neoliberals would not favour. From this latter perspective, the global financial marketplace appears not as a useful external discipline on democratic governments but rather as an unhelpful constraint on their ability to implement macroeconomic, tax and regulatory policies that may best serve the preferences of their citizens.' Second, critics of the concept of"protective" democracy also argue that the constitutional constraints which are introduced to support it often appear to be simply protecting the interests and political power of an elite at the expense of the majority, in the context of an unequal market society. This argument was made particularly strongly by Keynes and White at Bretton Woods with respect to the abolition of capital controls. They argued that in a world without capital controls democratic governments would find themselves paralyzed by politically motivated capital flight if they lost the confidence of what White

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called the "5 or 10 percent" of the population who had large assets that could be moved quickly at the international level' In their view, accordingly, democracy would not be strengthened, but rather weakened, by the abolition of capital controls, as unelected wealthy asset holders acquired a kind of "veto" power over the political and economic fortunes of elected governments.This case is often repeated by critics of neoliberalism in the contemporary context. From their perspective, the financial globalization trend is not only eroding the policy autonomy of democratic governments but also bolstering the political power of an economic elite who hold and manage flows of mobile financial assets. They suggest that elected governments of all political stripes are today increasingly forced to respond to the preferences of bond-rating agencies, financial managers and asset holders operating primarily in the world's leading financial centres of New York, London or Tokyo, instead of meeting the demands of their domestic citizens. Through their control of financial flows, these groups are seen to have acquired a kind of"structural power" in world financial markets over democratically elected governments.' There is a third and final way in which contemporary critics of neoliberalism suggest that financial globalization is undermining democratic governance structures. Governments are seen as being led by their fear of instability in the new global financial environment to consider institutional reforms which further remove the formulation of monetary and financial policy from direct democratic control. To prevent a major crisis in the fragile global markets, for example, it has been increasingly necessary for policy makers to consider ways in which the financial supervisors and monetary authorities of different countries can coordinate their activities in institutional settings which are insulated from domestic political pressures. Similarly, individual governments have been tempted to make their central banks more independent of political control in order to ensure that their monetary policies have greater "credibility" in the volatile global financial marketplace. The need for such "credibility" in the face of powerful global financial markets has also been behind moves in many countries to strengthen those parts of the state bureaucracy which are most attuned to the needs of international financial markets, at the expense of those which are more responsive to domestic

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concerns. Such developments suggest that the same tension has emerged today, between democracy and a stable global financial order, as was witnessed during the 1920s. In that earlier period, those concerned with maintaining the stability of international financial markets also recognized the need to contain the influence of mass democratic politics on fiscal and monetary policy making, if major crises and disruptive speculative financial flows were to be prevented. If we are now witnessing a reappearance of the tension experienced in the 1920s between the global finance and democratic governance, how might this tension be released in a fashion that would avoid the enormous financial volatility and chaos of that earlier era? One solution is the neoliberal one: embrace the globalization trend and stabilize international financial markets by insulating monetary and financial affairs from the everyday workings of mass democratic politics as much as possible. While attractive to some, this solution holds little appeal for those seeking a broader conception of democracy than the "protective" form endorsed by neoliberals. A second option is to return to the world of extensive capital controls that Keynes and White sought to build in 1944. In contrast to the first proposal, which sacrifices a broad notion of democracy in order to preserve global financial stability, this option would essentially dismantle the new global financial order in the interest of preserving and strengthening democratic governments. This proposal, however, is also unlikely to attract widespread support in today's integrated world economy. Effective capital controls would, after all, require extensive regulation of international economic activity that would be very cumbersome and disruptive in the contemporary context. Such controls will also be strongly opposed by the same internationally oriented firms that pressed for financial liberalization over the past two decades, and by financial officials and firms which are concerned with the competitive position of the national financial system. Moreover, these forms of opposition will be particularly difficult to overcome in view of the broader public's lack of understanding of international financial issues. It would thus appear that, barring the ocurrence of a major financial collapse, critics of financial globalization must accept that the new global financial order is likely here to stay in some form. How,

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then, can these critics strengthen the kind of democratic values they espouse in this globalized financial context? In his discussion of the changing nature of democratic politics in an age of globalization, cited at the beginning of this chapter, David Held provides a useful suggestion. He favours abandonment of the notion that the nationstate is the only arena within which democratic politics is practised. Because nation-states are too small to cope with powerful transnational forces and new global-level problems, Held argues that the focus of democratic activity must increasingly shift to the international arena. At the same time, he suggests that subnational local settings should also attract the attention of those concerned with strengthening the vitality of democratic life, because the nation-state appears too large to respond effectively to changing local needs in the context of a volatile and rapidly evolving globalized world. In what concrete ways might this form of democratic values be promoted in international and local arenas in the context of the new global financial order? At the international level, an initiative that has attracted considerable attention in recent years would involve the introduction of a so-called "Tobin tax." This tax, first proposed by the American economist James Tobin, would be imposed at a very small level (perhaps one percent) on foreign exchange transactions in the world's financial centres. While not discouraging beneficial long-term capital flows and trade transactions, the tax would have the effect of diminishing short-term speculative international capital flows. Tobin and his supporters argue that this, in turn, would not only diminish the risk of volatility in exchange markets, but also provide greater policy autonomy to democratic governments. The tax would also have the additional benefit of raising considerable revenue, which Tobin suggests could be used to bolster aid transfers from the rich countries of the world to the poor. The prime difficulty associated with the tax is that, in the contemporary globalized financial context, it must be introduced in all major foreign exchange centres in the world to prevent evasion. For this reason, its backers recognize that international advocacy is an essential aspect of the campaign to introduce such a measure." A second type of initiative at the international level would involve the creation of international agreements or democratically accountable international institutions which could help to manage and

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"tame" the new global financial markets in ways that will better serve the "public interest." This kind of initiative has been pursued most seriously in the regional context of Western Europe, where governments have set up the European Monetary System, an arrangement which, since its creation in 1979, has helped to stabilize exchange rates among member countries in the face of speculative financial flows. The commitments in the Maastricht Treaty to create a common currency and central bank by 1999 will, if fulfilled, make regional cooperation in this area even more extensive, although it must be added that the limited nature of democratic control over the future European central bank is a concern to many democratic activists in Europe. At the global level, public international financial institutions such as the IMF and World Bank already exist, but their power over the global financial marketplace is relatively limited at the moment. They have also been heavily criticized in the past for their lack of openness and democratic accountability. To address this situation, a number of international campaigns have been launched by development and environmental groups in recent years, the aim of which is to make these institutions more responsive to popular groups and democratic pressures.''- Their occasional successes suggest that this strategy provides a further means by which a broad conception of democratic values might be promoted within the global financial realm. In addition to such activities at the regional and global level, the last decade has also seen a proliferation of local efforts to restore a form of democratic control over money and finance.These initiatives appear to be a response to the growing loss of power of national governments that is inspired by the environmental slogan "think globally, act locally'? One of the most interesting of these initiatives has been the creation, since the early 1980s, of hundreds of "local currencies" (sometimes called "green currencies") in communities across the advanced industrial world.'3These currencies can be used only within the confines of a local community, although their value is usually linked to that of the national currencies. The objective of the participants has been to encourage economic self-reliance at the local level. They have, in other words, sought to create monetary instruments that foster a limited form of "delinking" from the global financial order in order to achieve a greater degree of democratic control over the use and management of money

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Does the growing interest in such local and international initiatives suggest that democratic politics within the nation-state should be seen as increasingly irrelevant in a globalized world? Absolutely not.The success of the local or international initiatives outlined above will depend enormously on the decision of nation-states to support them: the Tobin tax would, after all, be administered by nation-states in their respective financial markets; regional financial agreements and reform of the international financial institutions can only succeed if participant states endorse them; "local currency" initiatives also benefit from regulatory support provided by national governments. Democratic activity within the national context is therefore essential for obtaining support for such proposals. Moreover, the loss of national governments' policy autonomy in a globalized financial environment should not be overstated.The Mundell-Fleming model, for example, makes it clear that an independent monetary policy can still be quite effective in a world of capital mobility, provided that governments are willing to accept considerable fluctuations in their country's exchange rate." The fiscal options of governments in a globalized financial world may actually be enhanced in the short term if they borrow in an effective way on world capital markets to supplement shortfalls in revenue. Pressures of international regulatory arbitrage are also unlikely to be so strong as to completely undermine the distinct financial structures that permit national governments to intervene in unique sectoral ways in their financial systems." For these various reasons, then, national forms of democratic governance should not be written off in the contemporary financial world by those wary of the implications of globalization. Held's proposal simply suggests that local and international democratic action could make up for some of the weaknesses that national democracies are currently experiencing. WHAT ARE THE IMPLICATIONS FOR CANADIANS?

What is the relevance of this discussion in the Canadian context? Like citizens of other advanced industrial states, Canadians have increasingly encountered the challenges that the financial globalization trend poses for the practice of democratic politics. Such challenges

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were, in fact, experienced much earlier in Canada because of longstanding free linkages between Canadian and U.S. financial markets. These linkages were extensive as far back as the 1950s and 1960s, and were encouraged in part by Canada's decision in 1951 to remove its wartime exchange controls.This situation ensured that Canadian policy makers would face, at an early date, the kinds of constraints on macroeconomic policy making that other countries did not encounter until more recendy.' Indeed, this experience led Canadian policy makers to experiment with innovative responses that were not contemplated until later by other governments. Between 1950 and 1962, for example, they employed a floating exchange rate as a means of increasing their macroeconomic policy autonomy in the new open financial environment, a policy that was unique across the advanced industrial world at that time but which was imitated by others after the early 1970s. The financial globalization trend of more recent years has produced further external constraints on the policy autonomy of Canadian governments, constraints which have often been experienced in a more intense form by Canadians than by citizens of other OECD countries. This particular vulnerability has partly reflected our lack of power within the new global financial order, as a relatively small economy which does not house major financial markets or issue a world currency. Canadian policy makers have, for example, felt increasingly pressured to dismantle domestic financial regulatory structures—such as the "four pillars" system—in the face of the competitive pressures induced by recent deregulatory decisions and trends in more important financial centres abroad.' Pressures to bring tax levels in line with those of major trading partners have also increased, as the opportunities for individuals and corporations to move assets internationally have multiplied. The expanding volume of trading in the world's foreign exchange markets has put additional pressure on Canadian monetary authorities to match the anti-inflationary policies of the governments of the principal OECD economies in order to minimize the possibility of currency crises that will be hard to contain.'s An equally, if not more, important factor that has rendered Canadians particularly vulnerable to global financial developments has been the tendency over the past decade for provincial and federal

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governments to rely increasingly on borrowings in international financial markets to fund their growing debts. The attraction of this borrowing was that it provided the opportunity to enhance policy autonomy in the short run; Canadian governments found the financing of fiscal deficits easier because of access to international financial markets. However, as provincial and federal debts have grown in the last few years to levels that international financiers have found worrying, the new-found vulnerability of Canadian policy makers to global financial developments has become clear. Fears have grown that a sudden crisis of confidence in Canadian investments and the Canadian dollar on the international markets may produce a situation in which foreign bondholders or even the International Monetary Fund might dictate the kind of economic measures that are necessary to restore stable financial conditions. Such a scenario is not at all implausible: Britain was forced to agree to an IMF-supervised adjustment program at the height of a currency crisis in 1976, and international financial markets have imposed serious discipline on many other advanced industrial states in recent years. It is not surprising, then, that provincial and federal politicians have already been taking seriously the views of major bond rating agencies and other private financial institutions with a view to avoiding such a crisis. This potential threat is also increasingly invoked to defend domestically unpopular decisions. As Human Resources Minister Lloyd Axworthy put it when justifying his social security review in November 1994,"I don't want to let our social programs be dictated by New York bond traders."" Given their particular vulnerability, it is no wonder that Canadians are especially aware of the challenges posed by financial globalization to democratic politics. Not only have their politicians seemingly lost considerable policy autonomy, but also the pilgrimages of these same politicians to financial houses in New York and Tokyo for consultations and new funding have only served to heighten the sense that power in the new environment is shifting away from democratic governments towards private financial institutions and wealthy asset holders.'"Moreover, parallelling developments in 1920s, the desire to minimize financial volatility and instability is encouraging the consideration of initiatives that would roll back the direct influence of mass democratic politics on Canadian monetary and financial policy

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making. There has, for example, been growing discussion in the last few years of proposals to introduce statutory obligations forcing the Bank of Canada to pursue strict domestic inflation objectives, and even to privatize the Bank." In this context, many Canadians who find neoliberal concepts of democracy too limited have increasingly discussed ways of defending and strengthening a broader conception of democratic values in the new global financial environment. In these circles, proposals to reimpose the kind of tight capital controls over speculative capital movements envisaged at Bretton Woods have generally attracted little interest. Such initiatives would clearly encounter stiff domestic opposition because of the open nature of Canada's economy, and their effectiveness would be questionable in a country with a long undefended border with the United States. Attention has therefore been focused on other kinds of proposal that might enhance the room for manoeuvre of Canadian policy makers at the national level." Some analysts would, for example, like to see Canadian policy makers exercise a more independent monetary policy, even though such a course would result in increased fluctuations in the dollar's value. Another proposal would involve Canadian governments in an attempt to reduce their vulnerability to sudden debt crises by using fewer shortterm and more long-term financial instruments to finance the debt. Public influence within the Canadian financial system might also be augmented through the establishment of publicly controlled financial institutions, perhaps along the lines of Quebec's Caisse de depot, which draws on pension funds and automobile insurance premiums and plays a major role in Quebec financial markets. Clearly, however, these kinds of initiative at the national level would restore only a limited degree of policy autonomy to national governments. For this reason, Held's idea of extending the focus of democratic politics to include not just the national arena but also international and local settings has also held particular appeal for Canadian critics of neoliberal ideas in the financial sector.At the local level, for example, the now worldwide "local currency" movement was initiated by a Canadian, Michael Linton, in the early 1980s and his ideas have been embraced enthusiastically in recent years by many local democratic activists across the country.' The proposal to

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impose a Tobin tax at the international level has also attracted growing support in Canada within the last year." In addition, more and more lessons are being drawn from the European experience about the possibilities for regional financial cooperation in North America, in the wake of the introduction of NAFTA on January 1, 1994. The first step along this road was, in fact, taken in April 1994, with the decision of the U.S., Canadian and Mexican governments to create a U.S. $8.8 billion trilateral swap arrangement that can be used to minimize the disruptive impact of speculative financial movements on the currencies of the three countries." Will initiatives such as these help to resolve in the Canadian context the post-Cold War paradox outlined by Held; namely, that democratic ideals have triumphed just as national democratic governance structures are apparently being undermined by globalization pressures? Some Canadians—those adopting a neoliberal standpoint—would question this conclusion. From their perspective, the new globalized financial order is strengthening a kind of "protective" democracy, by pressuring the Canadian government to adopt macroeconomic, tax and regulatory policies that promote individual liberties and a market society. According to this viewpoint, democracy is best encouraged in a globalized context by measures that ensure that governments cannot reimpose capital controls of the kind advocated by Keynes and White at Bretton Woods. Indeed, the 1984 decision of the Canadian government to finally accede to the OECD's Code of Liberalization of Capital Movement seemed to represent an effort to subject future governments to this kind of "constitutional" discipline.' To those, however, who are not fully satisfied with neoliberal conceptions of democracy the kinds of local, national and international initiatives outlined above are seen to be worthy of consideration. Indeed, just as the new-found economic power of Canadians during World War Two led them to play an important role in shaping the 1944 Bretton Woods Agreement, their particular vulnerability to globalization pressures in finance today may make them especially inclined to promote innovative responses to the challenges posed to democratic forms of governance in the post-Cold War global financial order.

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NOTES

I am grateful to Maureen Molot, Max Cameron and Murray Smith for their useful comments as well as to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for helping to fund some of the research for this paper. 1 David Held, "Democracy the Nation-State and the Global System," Economy and Society 20, no. 2 (1991), 38-72. 2 Brian Johnson, The Politics of Money (London: John Murray, 1970). 3 See in particular Barry Eichengreen, Golden Fetters: The Gold Standard and the Great Depression 1919-39, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992); Beth Simmons, Who Adjusts? Domestic Sources of Foreign Economic Policy During the Interwar Years, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994).An earlier work that made the same point was Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation, (Boston: Beacon Hill Press, 1944). 4 Quoted in Eric Helleiner, States and the Reemergence of Global Finance: From Bretton Woods to the 1990s (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994), 34. 5 Helleiner, States and the Reemergence. For more detail on the arguments presented in the next two paragraphs, see this same source. 6 For a recent prominent example of neoliberal thinking in the international financial realm see Richard McKenzie and Dwight Lee, Quicksilver Capital: How the Rapid Movement of Wealth Has Changed the World, (NewYork: Free Press, 1991). 7 C.B. Macpherson, The Life and Times of Liberal Democracy, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977). 8 See, for example, Phil Cerny, "The Infrastructure of the Infrastructure? Toward 'Embedded Financial Orthodoxy' in the International Political Economy," in R. Palan and B. Gills, eds., Transcending the State-Global Divide, (Boulder: Lynne Reiner, 1994). 9 Quoted in Helleiner, States and Reemergence, 35. 10 See for example Stephen Gill and David Law, "Global Hegemony and the Structural Power of Capital," International Studies Quarterly 33, (1989), 475-99; Robert Cox, "Global Perestroika," in L. Panitch and R. Miliband, eds., New World Order? (London: Merlin Books, 1992); Tim Sinclair, "Passing Judgement: Credit Rating Agencies As Regulatory Mechanisms of Governance in the Emerging World Order," Review of International Political Economy 1, no. 1, (1994), 133-59.

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11 For Tobin's proposal, see James Tobin, "A Proposal for International Monetary Reform," The Eastern Economic Journal 4, no. 3-4, (1978), 153-9. 12 See for example Bruce Rich, Mortgaging the Earth: The World Bank, Environmental Impoverishment and the Crisis of Development (London: Earthscan, 1994). 13 Abraham Rotstein and Colin Duncan, "For a Second Economy" in Daniel Drache and Meric Gertler, eds., The New Era of Global Competition (Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991). 14 See for example Jeffry Frieden, "Invested Interests: The Politics of National Economic Policies in aWorld of Global Finance," International Organization 45, no. 4, (1991), 425-52. 15 Louis Pauly, "National Financial Structures, Capital Mobility, and International Economic Rules," Policy Sciences 27, no. 4, (1994). 16 William White, Some Implications of International Financial Integration for Canadian Public Policy, (Ottawa: Bank of Canada Technical Report No. 57, 1991). 17 White, Some Implications, 5.

Ibid., 3, 7,19. 19 Quoted in Globe and Mail, November 12, 1994, A6. In a widely publi18

cized March 1993 speech to the province's New Democratic Party executive, Ontario Premier Bob Rae also invoked the threat that the IMF might dictate how social cuts would be made in Ontario if tighter fiscal measures were not implemented. (Richard Mackie, "Rae Issues Debt Warning," Globe and Mail, March 29, 1993). 20 As the Economic Council of Canada noted in a 1989 report, the financial globalization trend raises concerns about "the possibility that the sheer size and power of financial institutions give them relatively greater influence in economic and political decision-making than has been the case in the past". Economic Council of Canada, A New Frontier: Globalization and Canada's Financial Markets, (Ottawa: Minister of Supply and Services, Government of Canada, 1989), 8. 21 See for example, Terence Corcoran,"Bank of Canada Reform Gathers Steam,"G/obe and Mail, June 15, 1991. 22 There has, however, been interest in some quarters in strengthening existing limited measures that curtail the outflow of capital from Canada, such as the current limit on the amount of investment abroad by private pension funds. The National Automobile, Aerospace and

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Agricultural Implement Workers' Union of Canada (CAW), for example, has suggested that the limit—now set at twenty percent of a pension fund's total investment—should be lowered, as part of a package of measures designed to enhance "democratic" control of the financial system. Most of the following suggestions are also contained in the CAW's paper "Submission to the House of Commons Standing Committee on Finance, 1994 Pre-Budget Consultations," November 16, 1994. 23 Ross Dobson, Bringing the Economy Home from the Market (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1993) 24 See for example T. Corcoran, "Outbreak! Ottawa catches Tobin Tax virus," Globe and Mail, March 22, 1995. 25 It was also agreed that finance ministers, central bank governors and their deputies in the three countries would now meet regularly in a body called the North America Financial Group to discuss common economic and financial issues. The immediate catalyst for these decisions was the potential for a peso crisis created by the assassination of Mexican presidential candidate Donaldo Luis Colosio. More broadly, however, they are seen by participants as a natural outgrowth of the regional integration initiative represented by NAFTA (Kelly McParland, "US$ 8B Currency Crisis Pact Set" Financial Post, April 27, 1994). 26 See Louis Pauly, Opening Financial Markets: Banking Politics on the Pacific Rim, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), 112-13, 116-17.

ACRONYMS 299

ACRONYMS ANC AVF AWB APEC CCIC CIDA CIIPS CODESA COPE! CP CRTC CSCE CTM DFAIT DP EC EDC EZLN

FA FF FAT FSLN FTA G-7 GATT GATS GDP GNU ICHRDD IDB IEC IFP IMF

INGOF ITAC

African National Congress (South Africa) Afrikaner Volksfront (South Africa) Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (South Africa) Asian Pacific Economic Cooperation Canadian Council for International Cooperation Canadian International Development Agency Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security Convention for a Democratic South Africa Christian Democratic Party (Venezuela) Conservative Party (South Africa) Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Commission Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe Confederation of Mexican Workers Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Democratic Party (South Africa) European Community Export Development Corporation Zapatista Army for National Liberation Freedom Alliance (South Africa) Freedom Front (South Africa) Authentic Labour Front Sandinista National Liberation Front Free Trade Agreement (Canada-U.S.) Group of Seven General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade General Agreement on Trade in Services Gross Domestic Product Government of National Unity International Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development Inter-American Development Bank Independent Electoral Commission (South Africa) Inkatha Freedom Party (South Africa) International Monetary Fund International NGO Forum (South Africa) International Trade Advisory Committee

300 DEMOCRACY AND FOREIGN POLICY

MFN

MP NAFTA NAPO NATO NGOs NORAD OAS ODA OECD PAC PAN PCO PQ PR PRD PRI PT PWV RDP RMALC RMB SACP SADF SAGIT SANDF SAP TEC

UN UNCED

UNDP UNIFEM

UPD WSSD WTO

Most Favoured Nation Member of Parliment North American Free Trade Agreement National Anti-Poverty Organization North Atlantic Treaty Organization Non-governmental Organizations North American Aerospace Defence Command Organization of American States Official Development Assistance Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development Pan Africanist Congress Partido AcciOn Nacional Privy Council Office Parti Quebecois Proportional Representation Partido de la Revolucion Democthtica Partido Revolucionario Institucional Worker's Party Pretoria-Witwatersrand-Vereeniging Reconstruction and Development Programme (South Africa) Mexican Network Against Free Trade Renminbi (China) South African Communist Party South African Defence Force Sectoral Advisory Group on International Trade South African National Defence Force South African Police Transitional Executive Council (South Africa) United Nations United Nations Conference on the Environment and Development United Nations Development Programme United Nations Development Fund for Women Unit for the Promotion of Democracy World Summit on Social Development World Trade Organization