Emotional Diplomacy: Official Emotion on the International Stage 9781501701139

Citation preview

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY Official Emotion on the International Stage Todd H. Hall

CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS

ITHACA AND LONDON

Copyright © 2015 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. First published 2015 by Cornell University Press Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hall, Todd H., 1976– author. Emotional diplomacy : official emotion on the international stage / Todd H. Hall. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8014-5301-4 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. International relations—Psychological aspects. 2. Emotions—Political aspects. 3. Taiwan—Relations—China. 4. China—Relations—Taiwan. 5. Germany (West)—Relations—Israel. 6. Israel—Relations—Germany (West) I. Title. JZ1253.H35 2015 327.201'9—dc23 2015005392 Cornell University Press strives to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the fullest extent possible in the publishing of its books. Such materials include vegetable-based, low-VOC inks and acid-free papers that are recycled, totally chlorine-free, or partly composed of nonwood fibers. For further information, visit our website at www.cornellpress.cornell.edu. Cloth printing

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contents

Preface Introduction 1.

2.

4.

1

Emotional Diplomacy

13

What Is Emotional Diplomacy? Emotional Diplomacy and the Emotions in International Relations Official Emotion as Emotional Labor Emotional Diplomacy as a Team Performance The Consequences of Engaging in Emotional Diplomacy Variation in Emotional Diplomacy Empirical Investigations

16

The Diplomacy of Anger

39

Explaining the 1995–96 Taiwan Strait Crisis from the Traditional Perspective The Diplomacy of Anger Empirical Investigations Looking at the Crisis as an Episode of Coercion vs. Official Anger 3.

vii

The Diplomacy of Sympathy

19 21 23 26 31 33

41 46 53

75 80

Explaining the RF and PRC Responses in Terms of Traditional Statecraft The Diplomacy of Sympathy Empirical Investigations Looking at RF and PRC Responses as Official Sympathy

107

The Diplomacy of Guilt

110

Explaining FRG-Israeli Relations from the Traditional Perspective The Diplomacy of Guilt Empirical Investigations The Luxembourg Agreement

83 89 93

112 117 121 123

vi

CONTENTS

5.

Bullets Instead of Ambassadors: FRG Weapons for Israel The Path to Normalization Subsequent Years

139

Further Studies in Emotional Diplomacy

164

The Diplomacy of Anger The Diplomacy of Sympathy The Diplomacy of Guilt

165

150 158

169 176

Conclusion Additional Strains Quotidian and Signature Forms of Emotional Diplomacy Official Emotion, Popular Emotion, and “Stickiness”

187

Notes References Index

195

188 189 191

227 243

Preface

It has been over a decade since an offhand discussion about the politics of the Olympics first sparked my interest in the intersection of emotions and international relations. Somehow the conversation gravitated to the puzzling observation that emotions seemed ubiquitous in the everyday language used to describe state behav ior, yet absent from our theories of international relations. What is more, this language actually appeared to capture something about how states act and react on the international stage. But how could this be? States are collective, institutionalized actors—why would we speak as if such entities evinced emotions? In seeking to answer this question, my first intuition was that we were indeed observing states acting in an emotional fashion, and that this was a function of popular and elite emotions infiltrating state decision-making processes and coloring state behav ior. More precisely, I hypothesized a process whereby (1) people within a state experienced a shared emotional reaction in response to an external event or actor, and (2) this reaction then became translated into an emotional display on the state level. I even came up with what I thought to be a snappy neologism to describe this phenomenon: the “emotionalization” of foreign policy. What I rapidly discovered when researching actual state behav ior, however, was a much, much messier reality. Emotions do influence foreign policy, but the process is far from straightforward. Emotions mix, mingle, and compete with numerous other factors and considerations in any given foreign policy decision making process, frequently leading to outcomes that in themselves do not appear particularly emotional. Moreover, the emotions of those involved are usually quite diverse and variable. Not only do emotions vary widely across policymakers and members of their constituencies, the emotions within individuals also can shift very quickly. It was often difficult to pinpoint one specific, commonly shared emotional reaction that had an impact on state behav ior. And on top of all this, I ironically found it quite common for the strongest emotions officials exhibited during foreign policy making processes to be directed not at external events or actors but rather at their own domestic rivals. At the same time, I also encountered evidence of intentional policies by state actors to display a particular emotional stance or demeanor in their official interactions with other states. State actors did deliberately seek to project vii

viii

PREFACE

the image of particular emotions with their words and deeds. The appearance of states acting emotional was therefore not an illusion. But—given the contrast between the premeditated nature of these policies and the sheer messiness of actual emotional reactions—it was difficult to claim such behav ior was the product of processes that conformed to my pet hypothesis of “emotionalization.” In short, I came to realize there existed a significant disconnect between emotions as experienced by policymakers and publics on the one hand, and explicit, state-level displays of emotional behav ior on the other. Quite simply, they were two separate classes of phenomena. In the years since my interest in emotions was first kindled, there has been an explosion of work on the implications of the former class of phenomena for the study of international relations, with scholars offering various theories of how felt emotional and affective responses impact international politics. In fact, I myself have been an active contributor to this trend, publishing on such topics as the role of feelings in leaders’ sincerity judgments and the affective politics that ensued in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. What has remained lacking, however, is an accounting of the latter class of phenomena: states appearing to act emotional. This book seeks to remedy that gap. Specifically, this is a book about how, why, and with what consequences state actors intentionally adopt the language and conduct associated with certain emotions in their interactions with other states. In doing so this book analyzes a heretofore unexplored form of strategic action on the international stage: emotional diplomacy. Emotional diplomacy entails the official deployment of emotional displays at the international level for political ends. A key claim of this book is that states pursue emotional diplomacy with the goal of realizing political outcomes the traditionally theorized tools of diplomacy—bargaining, persuasion, coercion—would have difficulty achieving. These include, for instance, reforming the image of a state through official displays of remorse or bettering relations after a tragedy with expressions of sympathy. Importantly, the choice to engage in emotional diplomacy can have quite surprising consequences, for projecting an emotional image in many cases requires behaving as if the standard dictates of calculating, self-interested politics do not apply. Emotional diplomacy is quite common as a practice within international politics; this book, however, constitutes the first scholarly endeavor to make its workings explicit.

This book would not have come into being without the assistance, support, comments, and advice of many different people who contributed at various stages of its development. These include Emanuel Adler, Steven Bernstein,

PREFACE

ix

Allen Carlson, Ja Ian Chong, Christopher Cochrane, Victor Falkenheim, Rosemary Foot, Taylor Fravel, Lee Ann Fujii, Lilach Gilady, Avery Goldstein, Steven Goldstein, Xavier Guillaume, Vaidya Gundlupet, Seva Gunitsky, Anne Harrington, Kai He, Matthew Hoffmann, Anne Holthoefer, Kristina Johnson, Jennifer Jordan, Scott Kastner, Andrew Kennedy, William Kirby, Mareike Kleine, David Leheny, Matthew Light, Michael McKoy, Jonathan Mercer, Michelle Murray, Takayuki Nishi, Louis Pauly, Andrew Ross, Robert Ross, Keven Ruby, John Schuessler, Duncan Snidal, Janice Stein, Lora Viola, Alan Wachman, Haibin Wang, Lynn White, Matthew White, William Wohlforth, Wendy Wong, Keren Yarhi-Milo, and participants at the Program on International Politics, Economics, and Security at the University of Chicago, the International Relations Research Colloquium at the Free University of Berlin, and the China and the World Program seminars at Princeton and Harvard Universities. Olga Kesarchuk provided much appreciated research assistance for chapter 3. Roger Malcolm Haydon was all one could ask for in an editor, and I thank him for all his time, support, and attention. And although anonymous, reviewers for Political Science Quarterly, Security Studies, and Cornell University Press supplied invaluable feedback. I am also grateful to the German Academic Exchange Association (DAAD) and the University of Chicago Mellon-Dissertation Fellowship for financial support while researching this project, and to the Blakemore-Freeman fellowship for providing me the chance to build up the language skills I needed for the cases that appear in chapters 2, 3, and 5. I particularly want to thank Thomas Risse of the Free University of Berlin and Chen Qi of Tsinghua University for supervising my stays as a visiting scholar at their respective institutions while conducting research for this book. A very special note of appreciation also goes to Thomas Christensen and Alastair Iain Johnston for giving me the opportunity to devote my full attention to this project as a fellow in the China and the World Program at the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs at Princeton University and the Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies at Harvard University, respectively. The China and the World Program offered an amazing experience, and I am extraordinarily grateful for all the support they showed to me while I was working on this manuscript. I cannot express enough thanks to Jennifer Mitzen, Ronald Suny, and Lisa Wedeen, and Alexander Wendt. I am indebted to them for all their attention, encouragement, and feedback during my time at the University of Chicago as I plied them with multiple (and much lengthier) versions of this project. Last but not least, my gratitude goes to my partner through this all, Chigusa Yamaura. What a long, strange trip it has been; thank you for your patience, support, and humor throughout this journey.

x

PREFACE

This book is dedicated to my parents, who inspired me to go out and see the world for myself.

Portions of chapter 2 were published as “We Will Not Swallow This Bitter Fruit: Theorizing a Diplomacy of Anger,” in Security Studies, 20(4): 521–55. Portions of chapter 3 were published as “Sympathetic States: Explaining the Russian and Chinese Responses to September 11,” in Political Science Quarterly, Fall 2012: 369–400. All translations from foreign-language texts appearing in the bibliography are mine, as are all errors.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

Introduction

What strategies do state actors employ in pursuit of their goals? How do we explain the outcomes of interactions between states? These are among the most basic questions driving scholarship in international relations. State actors apply coercive pressure, they bargain, they bribe, and they appeal to common interests. Such are the traditionally theorized tools of statecraft, and approaches that focus on these tools play an important role in answering key questions motivating the study of international politics. However, state actors do much more than just this, even when significant interests are at stake. During the 1995–96 Taiwan Strait Crisis, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) responded to a perceived provocation with outrage and explosive, even excessive, vehemence instead of proportionally escalating in a manner standard theories of coercion would have led us to expect. Following the 9/11 attacks, Russian Federation (RF) and PRC officials immediately conveyed their condolences to and solidarity with the United States. Subsequently, they did not just acquiesce to a U.S. military presence in their own regional backyard without haggling or seeking reciprocal payoffs, they actively assisted it. And for decades the government of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) proclaimed remorse for the Holocaust as it adopted unilateral policies of diplomatic, economic, and military support for Israel that complicated its pursuit of key political and economic interests in the Middle East. The goals behind these actions were relatively straightforward. The PRC government was seeking to prevent further violations of its interests pertaining to Taiwan. Russian and PRC officials were aiming to use 9/11 as an opportunity to 1

2

INTRODUCTION

reboot their relations with the United States and reframe their own domestic struggles as part of a larger battle against terrorism. And the FRG was engaged in an effort to rehabilitate its international image in the aftermath of World War II. These are all goals associated with tangible political benefits. But the forms of statecraft these state actors employed to pursue these goals entailed anything but politics as usual from the perspective of international relations scholarship. They did not apply coercive pressure, wrangle for advantage, or seek to use payoffs in the traditional ways the field of international relations would anticipate. In each case, the state actors involved deployed emotional rhetoric, engaged in emotional gestures, and invoked emotions as the motives for their policy choices. They explicitly inserted expressions of emotion into their dealings with other states and, moreover, backed up these expressions with substantive actions. Emotional behav ior is an essential part of how we as human beings communicate what matters to us, even what type of individual we are. A central claim I make in this book is that emotional behav ior can also play this role in relations between states, with important consequences for the strategies state actors adopt and the manner in which they interact with their counterparts. That said, while emotional behavior may be a ubiquitous part of human social interactions, transposing this observation from interpersonal to international relations is not so simple. Scaling up to the level of international relations requires a new theoretical approach, for despite common tendencies to anthropomorphize, states are not people. This book offers such an approach. It presents a theoretical framework for understanding the nature, significance, and consequences of state-level emotional behav ior on the international stage. In doing so, it also provides scholars with new theoretical tools for making sense of what would otherwise be puzzling state behav ior within international relations. Key to the arguments presented in this book is a concept new to the field of international relations, that of emotional diplomacy. Emotional diplomacy is coordinated state-level behavior that explicitly and officially projects the image of a particular emotional response toward other states. Concisely, when state actors engage in emotional diplomacy, the emotions being conveyed are official, and official emotion is a completely different animal from personal emotion. As I shall elaborate, official emotion entails what the sociologist Arlie Hochschild describes as “emotional labor”—the display of mandated emotions as part of one’s professional role.1 Because it occurs at the level of the state, it also involves what sociologist Erving Goffman has labeled a “team performance”—a collection of individuals working in concert to project a particular image.2 Emotional diplomacy consists of state actors—spanning top leaders to low-ranked officials—

INTRODUCTION

3

synchronizing their behav ior to project a specific emotion through their language, symbolic gestures, and substantive actions. Emotional diplomacy is by its nature intentional and collaborative. At the interpersonal level, emotional displays convey values and attitudes and can shape how interactions unfold. At the international level, state actors engage in emotional diplomacy when they want to enlist these properties of emotional displays to frame issues, to maintain or alter their state’s image, or even to transform the character of specific relationships. Emotional diplomacy—like other state efforts to shape images—is strategic, in the sense that it seeks to shape the perceptions and behaviors of others in order to achieve particular ends. This does not rule out the possibility that policymakers may also sincerely feel emotions consonant with the official emotional images they are presenting on the international stage; rather, it means that when the representatives of a state collectively and explicitly engage in a display of official emotion it is the product of a strategic choice. And emotional diplomacy is not simply rhetoric; it is a form of foreign policy behavior that can incorporate very substantive gestures with—as subsequent chapters demonstrate—real and important consequences, including how state actors use force, provide military aid, or even respond to major strategic shifts. In short, the focus of this book is the politics of officially expressed emotion on the international stage. Emotional diplomacy is distinct in that it intentionally injects displays of emotional behavior into interstate relations in order to shift such interactions outside the realm of standardly understood political practice. If international politics has traditionally been theorized as the dirty business of achieving interests through negotiating relations of relative power, what makes emotional diplomacy special is that it seeks to harness the social meaning attributed to emotional displays to create alternative political possibilities. One cannot, for instance, bring conventional power resources to bear—either through bribing or threatening—to convince a target audience that one is a repentant and reformed actor. But this is where the language and behav ior associated with guilt and remorse can play an important role. Indeed, what separates reparations from straightforward grants of aid is the fact that the former is couched in and justified by an official rhetoric of remorse. In fact this, as I shall argue in chapter 4, constituted the postwar strategy of the FRG vis-à-vis Israel. Emotional diplomacy comes in many diverse forms. Only the range of human emotion limits the potential different variations of emotional diplomacy. That said, for the purposes of this book I have chosen to concentrate on three specific, ideal-typical strains: the diplomacy of anger, the diplomacy of sympathy, and the diplomacy of guilt. There are important reasons behind the choice to begin an exploration of emotional diplomacy with a focus on these three strains as opposed

4

INTRODUCTION

to other possible candidates, such as joy or disdain. For one, all three constitute responses to significant negative situations, be they the violation of interests and values, the suffering of another, or even being a source of injury. For better or worse, such situations have a greater potential for conflict or harm. All else equal, the stakes involved in such situations are likely to be higher. Moreover, all three evoke expectations for accompanying concrete actions such as retribution, assistance, or reparations. Therefore all have clear implications for substantive state behav ior that allow us to look for deviations from traditional notions of statecraft. These provide important points of comparison to evaluate the analytical purchase of viewing behav ior through the lens of emotional diplomacy. Despite these similarities, each strain is distinct in terms of the specific combination of expressive and substantive gestures required for its enactment, its exact strategic implications and significance, and its corresponding equation of costs and benefits as pertaining to achieving particular ends. For that reason, it is important to delineate the characteristics of each strain separately. The diplomacy of anger consists of an immediate, vehement, and overt state-level display in response to a perceived offense. It invokes the discourse of outrage and threatens precipitous escalation—even violence—in the face of further violations. The diplomacy of anger is therefore risky, although it can be alleviated by reconciliatory gestures and will subside over time absent new provocations. It works to construct particular issues as sensitive and volatile, and thus outside the realm of standard cost-benefit calculations. The diplomacy of anger serves state actors in conveying that a normatively significant boundary has been crossed and consequently is a means of constituting red lines within a relationship. The diplomacy of sympathy is a response to other states having suffered a perceived tragedy. It involves symbolic displays of solidarity and condolence coupled with offers of assistance free from clear demands for compensation. By enacting the diplomacy of sympathy, state actors convey that they harbor a benign attitude toward the victim. The diplomacy of sympathy is therefore a means to reinforce existing bonds or, alternatively, to reframe previously hostile or neutral relations in a more positive light. While it is relatively easy to employ the discourse of sympathy, maintaining an image of sincerity may also require costly displays of substantive support. Conversely, refraining from even “cheap” statements of sympathy in the face of others’ suffering can project an apathetic, even hostile image. The diplomacy of guilt is a response to being perceived as responsible for earlier wrongdoing. The diplomacy of guilt couples a discourse of guilt and apology with symbolic displays meant to reinforce an image of penance and responsibility. It also can involve substantive gestures of compensation that entail significant costs. The diplomacy of guilt seeks to convey remorse and make amends for past ac-

INTRODUCTION

5

tions, thereby mitigating the harmful effects of past behavior on a state’s relations with others. Broadly speaking, each strain shares in the fact that it deploys emotional behav ior to achieve political goals and is shaped by a performative logic that necessitates presenting an outwardly sincere image. All constitute possible means for states to change how others view their intentions, frame the meanings of particular behaviors or issues, and even alter the trajectory of interactions; therein lies their strategic value. And all entail actions and interactions we would not anticipate given the standard expectations for statecraft described above. Bluntly, emotional diplomacy encompasses a variety of strategies available to state actors—of which this book only explores three—that international relations scholarship has largely overlooked. To be clear, emotional diplomacy as a practice is not new when it comes to the conduct of international politics. In press reports, historical accounts, and even everyday discussions of current events, one frequently encounters emotional language being employed to describe the behav ior of states. One need but look to the daily papers or evening news to see emotional diplomacy in action. But the concept of emotional diplomacy is new to the study of international relations. Although this book may be the first to explicitly explore emotional diplomacy as an intentional policy to officially display a specific emotion at the international level, my arguments are indebted to prior insights provided by both rationalist and constructivist approaches in the field of international relations, as well as work on emotions. Correspondingly, instead of seeking to pit these different approaches against one another, the arguments presented here aim to improve our understanding of international relations by weaving together a theoretical framework that draws upon insights from all three. In the end, the goal is to explain state behav ior, not maintain artificial boundaries between schools of thought in the field. I am indebted to rationalist approaches for their insights into the strategic nature of political actors, the role of signals in communicating intentions, and the interactive dimensions of international politics.3 From a rationalist perspective, state behav ior is ends-directed: states strategically select the course of action that, given what they believe about their environment and the likely choices of their counterparts, will realize the best possible subjective outcome. Rationalist approaches direct our attention to the instrumental and strategic elements of state behavior. The arguments of this book incorporate this focus, theorizing emotional diplomacy as a primarily instrumental form of behavior, a strategy by which state actors seek to achieve certain ends. This is so because by its very nature emotional diplomacy is the product of a deliberate, coordinated policy choice to project a particular image.

6

INTRODUCTION

Furthermore, some of the most influential rationalist works have been those that have emphasized the significance of signaling.4 Given that state actors make choices on the basis of what they believe about their counterparts, scholars in the rationalist tradition have been keenly interested in how states convey credible information to one another about their intentions, beliefs, and likely courses of action. Emotional diplomacy, by seeking to project a certain type of image about state intentions and attitudes, can also be viewed as a form of signaling. And for a strategy of emotional diplomacy to have any hope of being effective, it must to some extent seem sincere. Rationalist scholars have directed awareness to the ways in which states need to employ “costly signals” to convince others that they are not bluffing. I draw on this insight to posit that state actors can in certain circumstances find themselves having to employ substantial material resources—to put their money where their mouth is, so to speak—in order to convey their sincerity. That said, as I discuss in chapter 1, the notion of “sincere” emotional diplomacy is much less straightforward than rationalist understandings of state types, such as “status quo” or “revisionist.” Finally, rationalist models have pointed out how outcomes cannot be derived simply from the preferences of the actors involved; one has to look at the dynamics of the interaction, to examine how the choices of one party will shape the strategic options and calculations of its counterpart. Accordingly, I treat emotional diplomacy not just as a unilateral strategy state actors deploy, but also a policy choice that shapes the strategic responses of its targets and generates unique interactive characteristics. Indeed, certain strategies become available to a target only by virtue of the fact that its opposite has initiated a round of emotional diplomacy. For example, a target may choose to challenge the sincerity of an emotional display to either discredit it or elicit further substantive action, or alternatively embrace it in order to entrap its authors. In chapter 4, I argue that these were among the strategic options facing the State of Israel as the FRG sought to convey that it was a remorseful actor by offering Israel reparations. In short, emotional diplomacy can engender novel interactive strategic dynamics. Simultaneously, I am also indebted to the insights of constructivist scholars concerning the intersubjective constitution of socially meaningful behavior. Constructivists have long noted how the significance of actions, displays, or objects is not intrinsic; it is a function of the shared structures of meaning within which they are embedded.5 Heeding this observation, I pay attention to the ways emotional discourse and symbolic gestures importantly have the ability to constitute accompanying actions with specific meanings. For example, the official discourse of outrage (entailed by the diplomacy of anger) can frame concurrent military exercises as expressions of anger and thus dangerous but likely to subside absent

INTRODUCTION

7

further provocations—this is a phenomenon I examine in chapter 2 in the context of the 1995–96 Taiwan Strait Crisis. Such a relationship is not self-evident, but rather reflects the existence of a basic, shared background knowledge within the realm of international politics pertaining to what constitutes emotional behav ior, the significance attached to it, and the criteria for when and how it is displayed in a sincere manner. Indeed, given the social meanings attached to certain emotional displays, state actors may in some cases find it imperative to perform certain symbolic and substantive emotional gestures to maintain a desired image. To wit, for state actors not to express sympathy in the face of suffering by another party would be to send a quite malevolent message about their intentions, particularly when such expressions entail few costs. In chapters 3 and 5, I argue that we can observe this logic at work in the responses of various states to the 9/11 attacks on the United States. The concept of emotional diplomacy thus straddles what have been termed the logic of consequences and the logic of appropriateness, integrating elements of both.6 On the one hand, emotional diplomacy is goal-oriented and strategic, and thus on the surface appears to adhere to the consequentialist logic embraced by rationalist approaches. But on the other hand, emotional diplomacy draws upon a foundation of social expectations and meanings associated with emotional behavior. The empirical existence of emotional diplomacy indicates a basic, shared background knowledge within the realm of international politics pertaining to the meanings attached to emotional behavior as well as criteria for when and how it should be displayed in a sincere manner. It is a form of “socially thick” strategic action.7 But emotional diplomacy is also more than this, for it also reflects the significance emotions have within lived human experience. In the field of international relations there has been a growing interest in the role of affect and emotions in shaping behav ior on the international stage.8 This work has tapped into what the fields of psychology and sociology, not to mention the humanities, have long known: that emotions are a key element of human thought and behav ior. We see and experience emotions as natural and meaningful in everyday life, and the ways we seek to understand both ourselves and others reveal this. The work on emotions in international relations has sought to move beyond the quotidian and personal to further trace out the ways in which emotional reactions and experience can influence international political outcomes, and in the process has brought to the fore the emotional dimensions of political actorhood within international relations. I am indebted here as well, for emotional diplomacy only makes sense in a world populated by emotions-capable human actors. Without the subjective and

8

INTRODUCTION

social experience of emotions at the human level—which existing work in international relations has rightly stressed—there would be no basis for state-level emotional displays on the international stage. Human beings do not divest themselves of emotional experience by becoming policymakers, and it is as emotionscapable actors that policymakers are able to think through how their state as a whole should be responding in terms of emotional expressions and gestures to convey a particular image. To be clear, such judgments need not necessarily be accompanied by “in the moment” emotional reactions, just the ability to reason based on previous experience of emotions. So even if state actors do not need to personally feel the emotions they display when performing emotional diplomacy, the broader existence of emotions as an element of human social life is still necessary for this story. That said, while having incurred debts, I also offer new contributions to each in return. For those working in the rationalist tradition, this book develops a new domain of strategic signaling: the official display of emotional behavior. Certainly, within classic rationalist works, the idea that appearing emotional could serve instrumental purposes is not entirely alien. Thomas Schelling, for example, famously discussed the benefits of appearing mad in order to convey unpredictability and to convince others of the credibility of one’s threats.9 But for the most part, these arguments have remained underdeveloped or implicit. The idea that there exist different forms of emotional “types” a state can signal—such as “angry,” “sympathetic,” or “remorseful”—does present an original contribution. More importantly, theorizing emotional diplomacy requires—like Schelling’s madman theory itself—that we allow the possibility that players involved may conceive of their counterparts as acting out of emotion, or at the very least that those projecting the emotional display believe it possible their targets will not discount their behav ior as strictly instrumental. Put differently, the phenomenon of emotional diplomacy points to the intersection of strategic action with shared perceptions of a world inhabited by emotions-capable actors. Accordingly, this book opens up the question of what new games might exist if we allow actors to believe emotions belong to the repertoire of imaginable—even expected— responses. These include, for instance, the ways in which actors may seek to assuage angry counterparts or take advantage of sympathy proffered, the subjects of chapters 2 and 3 respectively. For those of the constructivist tradition, the arguments in this book serve to further flesh out what we know about the social realm in which states operate. Constructivists have done much work on the norms that shape and constitute state behav ior, classic examples being those that pertain to sovereignty, human rights, and warfare.10 The findings of this book point to a further set of assumptions and expectations concerning state actors on the international stage. These

INTRODUCTION

9

are the intersubjective understandings of emotional behav ior that are at work within the international realm, especially those pertaining to state-level displays of anger, sympathy, and guilt. Significantly, each strain of emotional behavior follows a logic that diverges from traditional notions of statecraft; being emotional requires acting as if political calculations are suspended. If one wants to engage in the diplomacy of sympathy or of guilt, for instance, one has to avoid the appearance of expecting something in return. And more basically, the existence of emotional diplomacy suggests the ways in which understandings of lived human experience can spill over into and shape the social framework of international interactions. For even if states as collective actors cannot experience emotions, it is the human experience of emotions that informs expectations that it makes sense for states to act as if they do. Finally, this book also has much to offer those who research emotions in international relations. As noted above, work by scholars in this vein has sought to demonstrate how emotions shape the choices and behav ior of international actors. Some have examined the effects of specific emotions, such as revenge or humiliation.11 Others have sought to challenge the very way we conceptualize what motivates rational actorhood.12 While this work has been important in demonstrating “emotions matter,” little has been done however to consider the secondorder implications of integrating emotion into our understandings of international relations.13 Emotional diplomacy is one such implication. For if emotions exist, so too does the possibility of displaying emotional behav ior for strategic purposes. In seeking to emphasize the importance of emotions, we must not lose sight of the fact policymakers and state officials are in most—albeit not all—cases sophisticated political actors. Moreover, states as collective, institutional actors do not exhibit the same spontaneity of expression that individuals do. Behind any individual display of emotion is a human being capable of an unpremeditated emotional response. Behind the state-level expression of emotion, however, is a set institutionalized decision-making practices that work to process diverse considerations, policy inputs, and policymaker positions to generate shared priorities and match to these a foreign policy strategy to guide behav ior across the various actors officially representing the state. In short, emotional diplomacy is what results when we mix the social existence of emotions with politically sophisticated actors operating in strategically oriented, institutionalized decision-making environments. The arguments of this book thus lie at the intersection of the three approaches— rationalist, constructivist, and psychological—and offer value to each. At the same time, they point to forms of action and interaction on the international stage outside standard expectations for political behav ior. They provide new answers

10

INTRODUCTION

concerning how states convey intentions, deploy material resources, and react to the behav ior of their counterparts. Again, nothing here denies the fact state actors do often engage in traditional hard politicking. But this is not all they do, and—as I shall demonstrate—at crucial points emotional diplomacy is their tool of choice.

The layout of the subsequent chapters is as follows. Chapter 1 presents in greater depth the theoretical foundations of this book, grounding the concept of emotional diplomacy in the work of sociologists such as Erving Goffman and Arlie Hochschild and drawing upon the writings of Robert Jervis on the role of images in international relations. The chapter seeks to clarify the relationship between personal and official emotion, outline the performative logic that governs the conduct of emotional diplomacy, and delineate the ways in which emotional diplomacy can shape substantive state behav ior and interactions. Chapters 2, 3, and 4 illustrate different variants of emotional diplomacy in action. Each chapter theorizes the constituent elements of a specific strain of emotional diplomacy to generate a set of expectations for state behavior and then applies these to an in-depth empirical study. Each study, in turn, contrasts the analytical purchase of an emotional diplomacy approach with that of traditional conceptions of statecraft in the field of international relations. Chapter 2 examines the diplomacy of anger in the setting of the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96. It argues that viewing PRC behav ior through the lens of the diplomacy of anger offers a more comprehensive and compelling explanation of PRC actions than existing theories of coercion. Specifically, an explanation based on the diplomacy of anger provides a better fit with the discourse of PRC officials, the timing of PRC military actions, and the pattern of escalation and deescalation. Moreover, it also better explains U.S. responses to the crisis as well as subsequent U.S. perceptions and behav ior. Chapter 3 investigates the diplomacy of sympathy in the context of the responses of the RF and PRC to the 9/11 attacks on the United States. Following the attacks, both the RF and PRC not only yielded to a U.S. presence on their inner flanks, they proactively facilitated it. Moreover, they also provided other forms of aid and assistance without seeking to lock in any concrete concessions in return. Such behavior defies expectations that great powers should seek to hinder the military encroachment of other great powers into their neighborhoods. It also defies the traditional expectation of statecraft that states should bargain for advantage wherever possible. This chapter argues that the choices and behavior of RF and PRC officials at the time—including their statements and symbolic gestures—only make sense when understood as part of a strong diplomacy of

INTRODUCTION

11

sympathy strategy, one aimed at seizing the opportunity of the moment to reboot relations with the United States and reframe their own domestic struggles as part of a larger fight against terrorism. Chapter 4 explores the role of the diplomacy of guilt during the initial decades of relations between the FRG and the State of Israel. During this period, the FRG repeatedly acted toward Israel in ways that jeopardized its political and economic interests in the Middle East. This chapter claims that FRG behav ior is best understood as part of an effort to rehabilitate its image on the international stage by pursuing the diplomacy of guilt vis-à-vis Israel. This required not only rhetoric, but also costly and controversial reparations, and eventually even came to involve secret weapons transfers as Israel leveraged its international acknowledgment of FRG overtures. A crisis between nuclear-armed great powers, the reaction of states to an unprecedented terrorist attack on the strongest power in the system, the response of FRG policymakers to the Holocaust—one might object that chapters 2, 3, and 4 constitute relatively extreme cases. Granted. But extreme cases are not necessarily easy cases for my approach. Quite the contrary, they are situations with high stakes in which we would least expect state actors to behave frivolously. They probe the limits of the influence of emotional diplomacy under conditions of stress. Put differently, a skeptical critic might concede that emotional diplomacy only occurs when nothing is at stake or the costs are minimal, but maintain that in instances of “real” international politics involving high stakes are states revert to hard-nosed bargaining or traditional forms of coercion. The studies in chapters 2, 3, and 4 refute that objection. At the same time, these cases are not necessarily hard ones for traditional expectations. Extreme situations may be rare, but if the basic assumptions of traditional understandings of international relations still hold, so should their expectations. Such conditions thus provide a natural experiment for both established and new theories of state behav ior. A body of international relations theory that only looks at routine behavior may falter when the routine is disrupted. Should traditional expectations fail when routines are broken, this would suggest the possible existence of additional mechanisms that may go unnoticed or unnoticed under “normal circumstances.” In this manner, extreme circumstances are similar in heuristic and theory-building value to what Alexander George and Andrew Bennett refer to as “deviant cases.”14 That said, chapter 5 seeks to supply additional evidence of the broader applicability of the above approaches beyond the contexts examined in chapters 2, 3, and 4. Specifically, chapter 5 presents several “mini-studies” that examine the diplomacies of anger, sympathy, and guilt at work in very different settings, spanning from the 2008 Andean Crisis to Sino-Japanese relations subsequent to normalization. Chapter 5 provides evidence to suggest that these forms of emotional diplomacy are not

12

INTRODUCTION

limited to the specific actors nor historical situations examined in the preceding chapters, but can be found to shape state behav ior across the international system. The conclusion proposes additional avenues of research that build on the framework provided by this book. These include the exploration of other strains of emotional diplomacy, such as friendship, hatred, or disgust; quotidian and signature practices of emotional diplomacy; and a more extensive theorizing of the relationship between public emotion, official emotion, and the “stickiness” of emotional diplomacy.

1 EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

Smolensk, Russia: 10 April 2010 It was already dark as Polish prime minister Donald Tusk and Russian prime minister Vladimir Putin solemnly made their way through the crash site. Scattered around them, among the trees and underbrush, pieces of twisted metal cut jagged shadows in the glare of floodlights. This debris constituted all that remained of a Tu-154 passenger plane, which just that morning had been carrying ninety-six people, including Polish president Lech Kaczynski and his wife, Maria, as well as numerous top Polish political and military officials. None had survived; it was an unprecedented tragedy for Poland’s post-Communist government. Stopping in front of one section of the wreckage, Tusk knelt down to lay a wreath. Against the background hum of generators and the sobbing of those in the accompanying delegation, Putin silently stood at Tusk’s side and made the sign of the cross. When Tusk returned to his feet, as numerous cameras flashed, Putin embraced him. Putin’s display of sympathy and condolences was emblematic of the response of the Russian state as a whole. Earlier that day, Russian president Dmitry Medvedev had called Tusk and Kaczynski’s successor, Bronislaw Komorowski, to express “deep condolences.”1 Medvedev had then filmed a television address directed to the Polish people, stating, “On behalf of the Russian people I express my deepest condolences to the Polish people and convey my sincere sympathies to the next of kin. . . . All Russians join you in mourning and grief.”2 He declared the following Monday to be a national day of mourning in Russia for those who had perished.

13

14

CHAPTER 1

In Moscow, other members of the Russian government also publicly added their voices to the chorus of condolences—for instance, chairman of the State Duma Foreign Affairs Committee Konstantin Kosachev, proclaimed that “we are mourning together with the Polish people.”3 Outside the Polish embassy, Russian youth belonging to Nashi, a Kremlin-linked group, engaged in a remembrance ceremony, lighting candles and laying down red and white flowers before the embassy gates.4 Later, on the official day of mourning, Medvedev and other high-ranking officials, including Russian foreign minister Sergey Lavrov, visited the Polish embassy to pay respects. The Russian government ordered flags lowered to half-mast and requested that “cultural organizations and radio and television companies . . . cancel all entertainment events and programs.”5 Within Poland, the efforts of the Russian side were acknowledged and appreciated, both officially and popularly. In Krakow, Komorowski stated that “in these difficult times for our country we are not alone. We are very grateful to Russian citizens, who expressed their condolences and sympathy voluntarily to Poland and the Polish people.”6 The Polish Sejm and Senate passed a resolution reading, “The deputies and senators of the Rzeczpospolita [Republic] express gratitude to the Russians for the sympathy and solidarity shown by them.”7 The Polish Senate speaker, Bogdan Borusewicz, later stated in an interview that “the reaction both of President Medvedev and of Premier Putin was very quick. Absolutely correct. . . . It is staggering, but this dreadful tragedy has brought our peoples closer. They are closer now than they have ever been since the end of the war.”8

Traditional approaches to statecraft within the field of international relations have little to say about interactions such as the one above. From the traditional perspective, international relations is the territory of cold, hard politics practiced through bargaining and coercion. In the words of Hans Morgenthau, one of the founders of the modern study of international relations, the tools of international politics are simply “persuasion, compromise, and threat of force.”9 It is a realm where goals are most often realized by appealing to interests, threatening pain, or employing some combination of the two. The protagonists in the episode above, however, appear to be engaging in a different type of international politics. The Russian response set in motion dynamics through which tragedy was transformed into solidarity. It precipitated a form of interaction at odds with the standard stories of hardnosed horse-trading and arm-twisting that populate a good portion of the international relations literature. In many ways it inhabits a blind spot for traditional understandings. What this incident does is point to the role of state-level emotional behav ior on the international stage. Indeed, it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

15

explain the set of interactions that played out between the Polish and Russian governments without invoking words that typically describe emotional responses, such as sympathy and mourning. Conversely, stripped of such language, this episode seems almost bizarre: a planeload of the ruling elite of one state dies a fiery death on the territory of another, and as a result relations improve between the two. Postulating the counterfactual brings the significance of emotional behav ior in this episode into even starker relief. For example, what would have happened had the Russian government not mustered a display of sympathy, but instead expressed cool, businesslike indifference? This is not as far-fetched as it may seem. There was arguably little love lost between Russian officials and the former Polish president, who had long been viewed as a thorn in their side. Kaczynski was famous for vocally supporting causes of irritation to Moscow, including North American Treaty Organization (NATO) expansion and Polish involvement in missile defense, and had even sided with the Georgian government during its war with Russia. In fact, some within Russia were very explicit in their lack of sorrow given the departed Polish president’s anti-Russian politics; the Russian Communist Party, for example, described the plane crash as “the wrath of God.”10 Moreover, what if on top of not displaying sympathy, the Russian government had also callously asked Poland to foot the bill for the damage caused by the airplane? It was at the time, after all, seen as the fault of the Polish flight crew. Common sense tells us that had the Russian side behaved in such a manner it would have been a disaster for Russian-Polish relations. The relationship would very likely have spiraled into mutual recriminations and enmity. Common sense tells us that of course Russia had to show sympathy if it was interested in maintaining—let alone bettering—relations with Poland. Indeed, to improve the tone to Russian-Polish relations, the Russian government not only had to show sympathy, it had to show sympathy in a sustained and emotionally sincere manner. And yet, using commonsensical emotional language to explain this episode raises more questions than it answers. For example, why does this behav ior seem so commonsensical in the first place? How do we square this with the fact that expectations for such behav ior are virtually absent from conventional theories of international relations? What implicit understandings of emotional behav ior are at work here? How do they shape the strategic options, opportunities, and constraints facing state actors when pursuing their goals? More fundamentally, how can one even speak of a state in international relations—a collective, institutionalized actor—as if it had emotions? The aspiration of this book is to offer an explicit theoretical account of the nature, significance, and consequences of state-level emotional behavior, one which can be integrated into the toolbox of concepts scholars of international relations

16

CHAPTER 1

employ to explain interactions on the international stage. Indeed, emotional discourse, expression, and behavior are such a fundamental part of human social existence it seems intuitive that they would play a role in international relations. But emotions between individuals are not the same as emotional displays between states, and the latter requires a tailored analytical framework. In what follows, I present the conceptual core of this book: a theory of emotional diplomacy. Put succinctly, emotional diplomacy is coordinated state-level behavior aimed at officially and explicitly projecting the image of a particular emotional response toward other states. What makes emotional diplomacy significant is that it shifts political interactions to a playing field whose rules do not fit traditionally theorized logics. It does so by injecting the social meanings, expectations, and patterns of behav ior associated with emotional responses into statelevel interactions. Emotional diplomacy serves the instrumental pursuit of conventional goals, but it requires acting as if the standard rules of politicking are suspended. As a result, it can generate state behav ior, interactive dynamics, and outcomes we would not predict given conventional accounts of international politics. In short, emotional diplomacy presents a set of strategies that constitutes both opportunities and constraints not currently recognized within the field of international relations.

What Is Emotional Diplomacy? Typically, when we speak of emotions we are referring to personal emotions. Personal emotions are those emotions that we each experience by virtue of being human. They involve changes in our physiology, our cognitive focus, even our individual wants and desires. They have a subjective, felt quality. States, however, are not people in the sense that they simply do not have unified, corporeal bodies capable of feeling emotions as individuals do. State-level behavior is the product of coordinated, collective action directed through institutionalized processes of decision making—it is a massive, orchestrated performance. We therefore need to view emotional diplomacy as belonging to a category different from that of personal emotion, as a form of official emotion. Official emotion is what happens when a collective, institutional actor such as a state displays the behavior associated with an emotional response in the form of explicit, outwardly directed behavior. Official emotion is thus an image projected by various members of an institution working in concert. It involves adopting on a collective level the discourse, expressions, and conduct that fit a particular emotional state. Emotional diplomacy, therefore, is the deployment of official emotion in the relations between states.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

17

Consequently, emotional diplomacy is intentional—indeed, by definition it has to be, because it requires the coordinated and synchronous action of numerous layers of government representatives for its realization. Emotional diplomacy is not a product of individual, uninhibited outbursts. Unlike personal emotion— whose expression in some cases we may not always fully control—emotional diplomacy involves an emotional image states actors want to display for others to see. It is a deliberate and strategic performance for the purpose of impression management. The concepts of performance and impression management as used here come from the work of Erving Goffman. Goffman was a sociologist profoundly interested both in how individuals and groups work to project images of themselves and a certain meaning of a situation to outside observers. Although the concept of performance is taken from the world of theater, Goffman employs it to characterize a more expansive field of social behav ior, namely the myriad ways in which social actors seek to shape the impressions formed of them by others. Calling behavior a performance or acting is not meant to imply that those engaged in the behav ior are necessarily disingenuous or faking it.11 Rather, even social actors behaving in earnest need to be aware at some level of the words, gestures, and actions they are employing in order to maintain a particular definition of a situation and their role in it. The wrong expression or turn of phrase, for instance, could inadvertently convey a meaning unplanned, unfelt, or undesired despite the intentions of its author. Social actors engage in performances even when they are entirely sincere in the sense that they adjust and monitor their own behav ior to convey particular meanings to outside observers—this is what Goffman refers to as “impression management.”12 This is not the first work to look at how state actors seek to manage the impressions others form of them on the international stage. Impression management is also at the heart of Robert Jervis’s work on images in international relations. In fact, Jervis, too, was explicitly building upon Goffman. As Jervis writes, “One important instrument of statecraft is the ability to affect others’ images of the state and therefore their beliefs about how it will behave.”13 Correspondingly, the impressions other actors form of a state can, in turn, shape how they view and treat it.14 For this reason, much is at stake with the images state actors project. These images can affect how a state is treated and thus how interactions unfold. Rationalist work on signaling types—for instance, as friendly or malign, or as resolved or uncommitted—can also be understood in these terms. What differentiates emotional diplomacy from previously theorized forms of state-level impression management, however, is the significance of projecting an official emotional image. Injecting emotional behav ior into interactions on

18

CHAPTER 1

the international stage works to shift them outside the realm of traditionally theorized political transactions. Emotional diplomacy attempts to invoke key values or constitute meaning in ways that cannot be achieved through the application of Morgenthau’s three tools of persuasion, compromise, and threat of force. Bribes and threats alone, for instance, are incapable of communicating one is sincerely repentant for past misdeeds and desiring of reconciliation or, conversely, outraged and likely to respond with excessive aggression. If politics is traditionally theorized as the dirty business of realizing interests through negotiating relations of relative power, emotional diplomacy seeks to harness the social meaning attributed to emotional displays to create alternative political possibilities. Specifically, emotional diplomacy can work on three levels. First, it can endow select issues with meanings and values that place them outside the realm of standard transactions. Displays of outrage, for example, can demonstrate that a certain issue is sensitive and volatile, and therefore not open to compromise. To foreshadow chapter 2, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has in the past used anger to indicate that the status of Taiwan is nonnegotiable. Second, emotional diplomacy can influence how a state is perceived, projecting a specific image of its intentions, beliefs, and values. Officially showing guilt, for instance, is a means for states to demonstrate that they are reformed actors. As described in chapter 4, this constituted an important element of Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) behav ior toward Israel during the first decades of the two states’ relations. Finally, emotional diplomacy can shift the character of the relationship between a state and other actors beyond the domain of the strictly instrumental. To return again to the example given at the beginning of this chapter, the Russian government’s expression of sympathy outlined above arguably had this effect on its relations with Poland, creating at the time solidarity between the two. To say emotional diplomacy is not politics as traditionally theorized, however, is not to claim it does not still entail state actors strategically pursuing their perceived interests. Quite the contrary, it is precisely because of its possible effects that it presents a means to strategically realize certain goals. Depending on the situation, there can be great value for an actor in projecting an emotional image. Anger may ward off further incursions. Remorse may help to mend estranged relations or rehabilitate an actor’s standing. Or, as in the example above, sympathy may help foster new opportunities within a relationship. Emotional diplomacy provides a means for state actors to attempt to shape perceptions to their benefit, to influence an audience for the purpose of achieving desired ends. As argued in subsequent chapters, these ends can range anywhere from seeking the material and security benefits of improved relations to preventing an actor from infringing upon core interests.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

19

Emotional Diplomacy and the Emotions in International Relations By describing emotional diplomacy in such instrumental terms, it might appear that I am giving short shrift to actual emotions. There is now a burgeoning literature within the field of international relations on the significance of emotions and affect.15 Scholars such as Jonathan Mercer and Rose McDermott, for instance, have explored the ways in which affective dynamics undergird beliefs and what we commonly describe as rational decision making.16 Andrew Ross goes even further by advocating a Deleuzian view of affect and its relationship to identity, whereby “affect is not a property of an individual but a capacity of a body that brings it into some specific social relation, such as a nation or political movement.”17 Others, such as Karin Fierke, Paul Saurette, or Oded Löwenheim and Gadi Heimann have focused on particular emotional dynamics—such as trauma, humiliation, or the desire for revenge—as a source of motivation in international relations.18 And Roger Petersen has even outlined the ways in which political actors may seek to play to or elicit emotions—such as anger, contempt, or fear—in order to alter the dynamics of strategic games.19 The above research has looked into emotions and affect as the basis for beliefs, perceptions, and motivations—none of which, however, are the same as emotional diplomacy itself. Jacques Hymans writes that “states are not gigantic calculating machines; they are hierarchically organized groups of emotional people.”20 Individual-level emotions on the part of policymakers may conceivably form inputs into the decisionmaking process through which foreign policy priorities are chosen. Yet at the same time, policymakers are not—for the most part—cognitive three-year-olds who display their emotional whims on their sleeves. Indeed, as Wynne Russell notes in her survey of classical theorists, there exists a tradition advocating the ability of diplomats to “repress their emotions.”21 It is one thing to personally feel emotion—even be motivated by it—and quite another to display emotional behav ior outwardly in a way others will notice. In particular, Oded Löwenheim and Gadi Heimann’s piece on the role of revenge in Israel’s behav ior during the Second Lebanon War of 2006 is very instructive in this regard. They note that although there is considerable evidence that Israel was driven by a desire for vengeance, the actual official discourse reflected “a material and utilitarian logic . . . revenge remained implicit.”22 When they asked a former Israeli cabinet member why this was the case, he replied that “Israeli leaders probably engage in auto-suggestive processes that allow them to claim that their acts are not led by emotions . . . from the fear of being criticized for such ‘primitive’ motivations.”23 Israeli leaders concerned about the image they

20

CHAPTER 1

were projecting in fact did not openly and officially express their emotions, even if these motivated their behav ior. As the above example illustrates, personally felt emotions as sources of motivation for state behav ior and officially expressed emotions are quite simply two different things. I do not propose or advocate here a unified theory of state motivations—emotional or otherwise. This book is not about why state actors want what they want, but rather the strategic tools in their foreign policy toolbox for pursuing such wants. Emotional diplomacy is one such tool, and it can serve a wide variety of strategic ends, none of which necessarily need stem from the personal emotions of state actors. None of this is to say that official emotion and personal emotional experience do not at times intersect or overlap. But the problems of bluntly equating official emotion and personal emotional experience quickly become apparent when one seeks to define the former in terms of the latter, let alone use it as a basis to create criteria for assessing what comprises “authentic official emotion” or posit that states “feel” emotions. For instance, how many individuals in a state would need to personally feel an emotion—such as sympathy—for a state-level display of sympathy to qualify as an authentic official emotion? Fifty-one percent? Fifty-one percent of what? The public? The government? The executive cabinet? What if only the highest official—be it the president, prime minister, supreme chairman, or whoever—feels sympathy? Does that still count? What about those instances when a large number of state officials feel a particular emotion, but nevertheless for strategic reasons the government in question chooses not to display that emotion openly in its diplomatic behav ior? What about instances when state officials only half-heartedly feel a certain emotion, but still view it as necessary to collectively project that emotional response outwardly? I could extend the list ad infinitum, but I imagine that the above has been sufficient to make my point. There is an institutionalized, collective, and coordinated quality to the state-level displays of emotion I examine in the subsequent chapters difficult to square with the vicissitudes, variances, and simply messy diversity of individual, personal emotion experienced by policymakers within a state, not to mention (with the possible exception of an eccentric autocrat) their presumed capability for strategic reflection and self-control. What is more, emotional diplomacy is not constituted simply by the actions of top policymakers; it is realized through a multitude of the gestures—expressive and substantive—required of diplomats, lower-level officials, and other representatives. Emotional diplomacy is a large, coordinated performance of official emotion that by its nature is intentional. From an analytical perspective emotional diplomacy is simply a creature distinct from personal emotion, and it is the former that is focus of this book.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

21

All that said, however, the social existence of personal emotions remains a logical precondition of emotional diplomacy as a strategy. Within social life, emotional expression and behav ior are integral parts of how human beings communicate their thoughts, feelings, and intentions to others. It is precisely because emotions play such an important role in our everyday lived social existence that displaying emotions on the international stage has value. So while policymakers need not be motivated by emotion when electing to engage in emotional diplomacy, it is nevertheless the lived experience and social embeddedness of emotion informing their choices, even making emotional diplomacy thinkable. As Neta Crawford has noted, “the fact that individuals feel it advisable to display emotion for some purpose highlights the perceived utility of the display. Even the ‘manipulator’ believes that others think emotions are important and is constrained by emotion to a certain extent.”24 The concept of emotional diplomacy is thus a second-order extension of the fact that our world is populated with emotions-capable actors. It speaks to those doing work on emotions in international relations by pointing to a further implication of their arguments: the strategic appropriation of emotional displays at the international level. At the same time, however, it also speaks to those interested in instrumental political behav ior, an area currently dominated by rationalist approaches. By positing a world in which emotions are conceivable— possibly even expected—responses, it opens the field for a wider range of strategic options. As noted in the introduction, the idea actors could employ emotional behav ior for strategic purposes was acknowledged in classical rationalist work, such as in Thomas Schelling’s suggestion one could feign madness to bolster the credibility of one’s threats.25 For the most part, however, this possibility has remained implicit and unexplored—I seek in this book to articulate it explicitly.

Official Emotion as Emotional Labor The official emotion constituting emotional diplomacy is best understood as the team performance of emotional labor on a grand and collective scale. Sociologists have defined “emotional labor” as work involving the mandated expression of emotion. This is exemplified in the pioneering research of Arlie Hochschild on flight attendants whose jobs required them to act in a friendly manner and bill collectors whose work required them to act contemptuous.26 Hochschild, who herself was building on the scholarship of Goffman, was keenly interested in the ways individuals outwardly project emotions as part of the image required by their professions.

22

CHAPTER 1

For those personally tasked with executing its public expression, emotional diplomacy is also a form of emotional labor. It requires its practitioners to project an emotional state and thus adjust their behavior accordingly. Apart from mouthing the words and taking the corresponding policy actions, officials must also manifest relevant official emotions in their own personal expressions and gestures.27 In fact, Hochschild cites her own experience with the world of diplomacy as part of the impetus for her work on emotional labor. She writes, “I think my interest in how people manage emotions began when my parents joined the U.S. Foreign Service. At the age of twelve, I found myself passing a dish of peanuts among many guests and looking up at their smiles. . . . Afterwards I would listen to my mother and father interpret the various gestures. The tight smile of the Bulgarian emissary, the averted glance of the Chinese consul, and the prolonged handshake of the French economic officer, I learned, conveyed messages not simply from person to person, but Sofia to Washington, from Peking to Paris, and from Paris to Washington.”28 Of course, not all manifestations are so subtle. Hitler’s behav ior upon the announcement that a British emissary had arrived to speak with him during the tense period prior to the outbreak of WWII provides an illustration of this: “Hitler stood up in agitation. ‘Gott im Himmel! Don’t let him in yet—I’m still in good humor.’ Before his staff ’s eyes, he then worked himself up, solo, into an artificial rage—his face darkened, he breathed heavily, and his eyes glared. Then he went next door and acted out for the unfortunate Englishman a scene so loud that every word was audible.”29 According to Hochschild, such emotional labor can take multiple forms. In some cases it may just be “surface acting,” where actors show emotions they do not feel and hide those that they do.30 In others it may be “deep acting,” in which individuals actually intervene in their own feelings to present an apparently authentic display. The sociologists Blake Ashforth and Ronald Humphrey add a further possibility: in certain cases when the identity of an individual coincides with that of the larger organization the emotion may on the individual level be genuine from the start.31 Under these circumstances, the dictates of emotional labor simply allow individuals to openly express what they actually feel. Consequently, within the same organization one may encounter surface, deep, and genuine displays depending upon the individual. What is more, over time reciprocal effects between enactment and actual feeling are possible. Psychologists have demonstrated that performing particular emotions can actually generate corresponding feelings.32 All this suggests a highly complex—even endogenous— relationship between personal emotion and that mandated officially, one that eludes simple assertions of a one-to-one correspondence.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

23

Emotional Diplomacy as a Team Per for mance The focus of this book, however, is not primarily on the individual emotional labor of certain diplomats and leaders, but rather on the team performance of emotional labor on a grand and collective scale. A team performance, as defined by Goffman, involves a group of individuals cooperating to project and maintain a certain impression or definition of a situation.33 Emotional diplomacy constitutes a team performance in that it requires a disparate group of government officials and other representatives of a state to attune their behav ior to a particular emotional display. It involves a full range of representative state actors— stretching from top leaders to low-ranked officials and soldiers—whose simultaneous behav ior in aggregate projects an emotional image. In fact, state-level performances aimed at impression management are necessary not just for emotional diplomacy, but for all actions that might be termed as belonging to the social life of states. Simply, for states to exist as corporate actors capable of socially interacting with one another or other international actors, state officials need to coordinate to convey relatively coherent messages about what their state wants, what sort of actor their state is, and what it intends to do. This cannot and does not occur spontaneously. Admittedly, the performances of state actors are seldom perfectly synchronized—in practice, things can and do at times become quite muddled. For example, leaders may contradict their subordinates in public statements, and soldiers may strike a different tone than that proclaimed by diplomats. But at base, for a state to function as a unit in international politics a certain degree of performative coherence is essential. If state behavior were simply a collection of individuals following their own personal inclinations, the state as collective actor would cease to be. Behind the front of official rhetoric and action there may of course exist within a state apparatus numerous conflicting views and disagreements. When acting in an official capacity on the international stage, however, state actors are generally expected to represent the formal line of state policy, and thus perform in a concerted manner to project a consistent image of where a state stands. This includes the emotional component, as Hochschild’s description of diplomatic smiles illustrates. For those on the frontlines, emotional labor is required to project a certain image. Indeed, when diplomats or other officials publicly take a stance—emotional or otherwise—at odds with declared state policy we frequently observe them being dismissed or forced to retire. As Goffman notes, in team performances not all actors are necessarily equal. First, specific actors may occupy positions with more “directive dominance,” meaning the ability to orchestrate the performance in which a team engages.34 In

24

CHAPTER 1

the realm of international relations, directive dominance is generally exercised by top leaders—those most responsible for setting foreign policy and vested with the institutional power to do so.35 These are the strategic state actors who seek to match emotional diplomacy to its political ends. The actual mechanisms through which the directive dominance of emotional diplomacy is exercised are varied. In some cases, lower-level state officials may receive very explicit directions concerning their language and emotional demeanor. For example, early Israeli diplomats were given detailed instructions on how to act toward West German diplomats at social occasions in third countries, including the admonition to quickly break off any attempted conversation and look for other interlocutors.36 In other cases, however, guidance may be looser or more implicit, and state officials may simply infer the appropriate emotional expression from the tone of higher-level pronouncements or the behav ior of top leaders. Second, certain actors may play a larger role in representing the team, which Goffman labels “dramatic dominance.”37 These are the individuals who are more central to the performance, those whose actions constitute a greater portion of the substance of the performance. On the international stage, presidents, prime ministers, or “supreme leaders” often exercise dramatic dominance in that their behavior is likely to carry much more weight and receive more attention than that of lower-ranked officials. There is a big difference, for instance, between it being Putin that hugged Tusk as opposed to an official translator conveying the gesture. The greater the dramatic dominance of an individual is, the more that may be required of them in terms of personal emotional labor. Often, those who have directive dominance also have dramatic dominance, although this is not always the case. The queen of England, for example, still commands considerable dramatic dominance when she makes official visits, even though she has relatively little influence over actual British foreign policy. To illustrate the above with an example of an actual team performance of emotional labor in action, consider the reaction of the U.S. government during the Clinton administration to the bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade by one of its planes in May 1999. Susan Shirk, the deputy assistant secretary of state at the time, writes that upon hearing the news, “my first response was to have us apologize, immediately and profusely, from the president on down.”38 She was not the only one with this reaction—a taskforce of different members from the White House, State Department, and Department of Defense assembled for the crisis also “recommended that U.S. leaders show more remorse in public.”39 Over the following weeks U.S. leaders and government officials, including the president, secretary of state, secretary of defense, director of Central Intelligence, and the U.S. ambassador to the PRC would indeed all deliver public apologies to the

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

25

PRC government.40 The United States eventually agreed to provide $4.5 million to those injured in the bombing and the relatives of those killed as well as $28 million to pay for the reconstruction of the PRC embassy.41 Moreover, the Central Intelligence Agency later publicly announced that it had fired one individual and disciplined six others as the result of an internal investigation into the incident.42 Here we can observe a team performance of emotional labor by U.S. officials seeking to project an emotional image—in this case remorse. This required various expressive displays of contrition by multiple government officials as well as material compensation and disciplinary action. In particular, those with dramatic dominance—such as the U.S. president, secretary of state, and the secretary of defense—had to participate. In this manner, the U.S. government sought to convey that the bombing was accidental. Indeed, the need for such a display was made explicit in the recommendations of the taskforce. It is important to note that the “team” of interest here in this team performance is composed of those who officially represent a state. These are individuals whose position requires them to abide by the mandates of their state’s foreign policy. Official emotion is therefore also a category distinct from that of popular emotion. Popular emotion is constituted by the unofficial, public expressions of emotion by private citizens within a state. Popular emotion is less subject to institutional management than official emotion, and thus may be more diverse and more closely reflect the personal emotions of those involved in expressing it. It is not a collective, organized team performance. State actors may seek to shape popular emotion and how it is represented to meet their needs, but displays of popular emotion are the choice of private citizens and may at times even run counter to the image state actors wish to present. This relationship between official and popular emotion can be seen in the Russian response described at the outset of this chapter. On the one hand, the Russian government sought to generate a sympathetic public reaction. It shaped news coverage, proclaimed a day of national mourning, and even broadcast an emotionally moving film about a World War II Soviet massacre of Polish military officials and elite by a Polish director the night after the crash.43 What is more, the initial appearance of flowers and the remembrance ceremony at the Polish embassy the day following the crash was far from spontaneous; it was organized by members of the Nashi youth movement—a group with strong Kremlin ties.44 On the other hand, there were still members of the minority Russian Communist Party who deviated from the message the Russian government was seeking to push. Governments may seek steer popular emotion to bolster the image they are conveying officially, but this is considerably more difficult as popular emotion is its own animal.

26

CHAPTER 1

Granted, certain authoritarian regimes may be quite adept at exercising control over displays of popular emotion. In fact, there has been recent work on popular displays of emotion in authoritarian states as a signaling device. Jessica Weiss, in particular, has argued in her research into the foreign policy of the PRC that authoritarian states may at times permit domestic protests against foreign actors to convey to other states their inability to back down.45 This also constitutes a further tool available to some states, but using popular emotions to tie one’s hands is different from using official emotion to convey particular intentions. The former involves restricting a government’s room for compromise, the latter an image state actors are seeking to present of themselves. One can surely imagine situations where both strategies would be used in conjunction. But one can equally imagine scenarios where the strategies are not aligned, such as when state actors represent themselves as not sharing the emotions of the masses limiting them in order to present a more moderate and reasonable face. Official emotion, popular emotion, personal emotion—at times these phenomena may overlap, but they nevertheless remain separate categories, each with their own properties. Emotional diplomacy is a manifestation of official emotion, a concerted team performance of emotional labor by state actors. Granted, official emotion can under some circumstances intersect with both popular emotion and the personal emotions of those who practice it. Indeed, in seeking to marshal a popular echo for their policies and cultivate genuine emotional displays, policymakers may generate situations where official, popular, and personal emotion come to coincide. But then again, they may not.

The Consequences of Engaging in Emotional Diplomacy Emotional diplomacy is a performance that aims to shape the perceptions of an external audience. In some cases the intended audience is not simply the explicit target, but also third parties including domestic publics or actors in other states. Regardless, it is a means state actors can employ to frame issues, to maintain or alter their own image, and even to transform the character of relationships in ways unachievable by the traditionally theorized tools of diplomacy. What gives emotional diplomacy this potential is the social meaning attributed to emotional displays. Emotional behav ior is infused with meaning about the beliefs and desires of the actor expressing it—meaning that cannot be communicated with traditionally theorized tools of statecraft. Emotional diplomacy draws on such meanings to realize political goals.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

27

While the choice of state actors to engage in emotional diplomacy may often be motivated by old-fashioned interests, emotional diplomacy entails acting and interacting in ways that have their own unique dynamics. Specifically, emotional diplomacy is composed of multiple, very dissimilar strains. Anger, remorse, guilt, hatred, gratitude—all form different conceivable strains of emotional performance. Each of these strains not only conveys a particular meaning, it also entails its own unique means of expression, trajectory of intensity, action tendencies, and interactive dynamics. What is common to these disparate strains, however, is that an actor desiring to reap the benefits of presenting such an image must seek to appear sincere. At the individual level, an actor expressing emotion may indeed be sincere about what he or she feels. At the interstate level, emotional sincerity is a projected image, for, as outlined above, states do not “feel” emotions. Performing sincerity requires that state actors maintain a consistent and coherent performance of an emotional response without slips or discrepancies. State actors must avoid behavior that, in the words of Goffman, would “contradict, discredit, or otherwise throw doubt upon this projection.”46 More significantly, performative sincerity in the case of state-level emotional displays not only requires individual emotional labor, it also requires representatives of a state to behave as if the standard playing rules of selfishly pursuing interests in international relations are suspended. An actor showing anger must appear as if they are ready to engage in destructive—possibly even self-destructive—behav ior in response to additional provocations. An actor showing sympathy must be willing to provide assistance without strings attached. In some situations, projecting an outwardly sincere image may simply entail having all actors in the government stick to the same script in terms of rhetoric and symbolic acts. These relatively costless behaviors I refer to as expressive gestures. While generally inexpensive, these gestures—which frequently take the form of emotional labor on the part of state representatives—may nonetheless be scrutinized by outside audiences as measures of sincerity. I would suggest that this dynamic is a function of the tendency of human actors, and policymakers in particular, to not only assume a certain competence in their abilities to distinguish between sincere and insincere expressions of emotion in their interlocutors, but also to view these as a window to state intentions.47 What is more, expressive gestures may be all that are necessary when state actors are expected to respond in a certain emotional fashion; the audience may see gestures as sincere because it anticipates them and thus has no grounds for skepticism. Under other circumstances, however, maintaining a sincere image may require state actors to back up their expressive displays with substance—to put their

28

CHAPTER 1

money where their mouth is, in a manner of speaking. Actions that involve a certain cost and thus can serve as signs of an actor’s sincerity I refer to as substantive gestures.48 Substantive gestures entail using material resources not as tools to coerce or attain bargaining leverage, but in a manner which substantiates a particular emotional display. Examples range from costly reparations as sign of remorse to belligerent shows of force to signal anger. In fact, in certain cases, state actors may not even anticipate the need for costly substantive gestures at the outset, but in the face of changing circumstances find them necessary to maintain a consistent image. This is a logic akin to that described by Frank Schimmelfennig as “rhetorical entrapment,” whereby state actors can find themselves bound to costly courses of behav ior in order to preserve coherence with previously declared positions or arguments.49 Disengaging from an emotional performance mid-display because it had become costly would render it insincere, negating its benefits and even possibly eliciting backlash. In short, while emotional diplomacy can offer the opportunity to change perceptions, it can also come with costs and constraints. In this manner, the choice to perform official emotion can generate substantive foreign policy outcomes one would not expect given traditional understandings of international politics. Significantly, because emotional diplomacy shifts interactions outside of traditional politics, sustaining an emotional image may require acting as if standard costbenefit calculations do not apply when deploying material resources. So while the motives of state actors for engaging in emotional diplomacy may be rooted in interests, the path to realizing those interests can require adhering to performative logics that entail a hefty substantive price. The significance of substantive signals, as described above, functions in much the same way as costly signals work in the rationalist, strategic choice literature.50 Namely, they act to convey credible information about an actor’s preferences or “emotional type,” to substantiate that an actor is indeed sincere. That said, it is again necessary to underscore that for emotional diplomacy the expressive gestures—the apparently sincere performances of emotional labor by state representatives, in themselves often perceived as a relatively costless signal—also play an important role. For one, these gestures create the context in which substantive gestures become meaningful. Constructivists have long noted the way in which discourse and social context can constitute certain objects or actions with particular meanings. This insight is relevant to emotional diplomacy. The difference between aid and reparations is the discourse and displays of remorse that accompany the latter. Additionally, as noted above, individual emotional displays by representatives of a state—when enacted in an apparently genuine manner— can contribute to the impression that a policy of emotional diplomacy is in fact

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

29

sincere. This, too, is a unique product of emotional diplomacy harnessing the social meanings associated with emotions. But emotional diplomacy is not simply a performance for a passive audience; it is interactive. It structures interactions by shaping the perceptions and expectations of its targets, thereby influencing their responses. It creates a meaningful context absent which it becomes difficult to understand why actors responded in the manner that they did. More specifically, emotional diplomacy generates its own emotion-specific games between state actors. Savvy targets can use this to their advantage. A state that projects an image of remorse, for instance, opens itself up to demands by a target for substantive indemnification. A state that shows sympathy presents its target with the possibility of requesting assistance without needing to reciprocate. Emotional diplomacy is thus a strategy that, in turn, can shape the strategic responses of others. Again, there would also appear to exist overlap here with rationalist approaches focused on games of strategic choice in international relations. Rationalist approaches, at their most basic, assume purposive actors that select strategic courses of action in a manner most likely to maximize the attainment of their goals.51 Emotional diplomacy describes a set of signaling strategies for conveying information about an actor’s preferences or type as yet untheorized in the field. While not the approach adopted here, one could conceivably even model the options subsequently available to a target of emotional diplomacy in decision-tree form, such as whether to challenge the sincerity of an emotional display or respond with endorsement. But these strategies are also only possible in a social context where common knowledge constitutes displays of emotional behavior (or lack thereof) as meaningful. The concept of emotional diplomacy therefore also intersects with constructivist arguments about the intersubjective nature of the international realm, that international politics is rich with shared beliefs that guide behavior.52 As outlined in the introduction, emotional diplomacy thus represents a “socially thick” form of strategic action. The question still remains as to why a target state would respond to emotional diplomacy as if it were sincere, given the differences between collective, official emotion and individually experienced personal emotion. Concisely, states as collective, institutional actors, cannot sincerely “feel” emotions, so why would external actors respond to them as if they did? One possible reason is that the discursive conventions that describe states as unitary actors, even anthropomorphize state behav ior, facilitate such perceptions. As Alexander Wendt notes, “in both academic and lay discourse we often refer casually to states ‘as if ’ they have emotions.”53 The anthropomorphization of state behavior can serve to produce a form of perceptual hypocatastasis, in which the metaphor of human behavior becomes

30

CHAPTER 1

the actual frame of understanding, such that no incongruity is perceived when states are described as and understood to be displaying an emotion. Second, it is possible that given the context and/or the apparent sincerity of relevant expressive and substantive gestures, the target simply views state displays of emotion as sincere in a way that elides the gap between personal and official. Specifically, state actors that present a relatively consistent emotional image— manifested across myriad individual representatives and actions, expressively and substantively—encourage a form of perceptual slippage in which an emotional response is attributed to a state. In fact, a coherent display of expressive and substantive gestures may be sufficiently costly or difficult enough to coordinate so as to be perceived as providing relatively credible evidence that a state is indeed a given emotional “type” during the interaction in question. As noted above, targets may also place inordinate stock in their ability to identify sincere emotion in the emotional labor of their interlocutors and read this as representative of the state as a whole.54 Moreover, if the context is one that would predispose the target to expect a particular emotional response from what it already views as a collective actor with particular commitments and values, it is not the display of emotion, but the lack thereof which would arouse disbelief. Third, targets may also respond to emotional diplomacy as if it were sincere because they view the state actors in question as compelled to maintain that particular response due to the domestic or international reputation costs that would emerge from abandoning it. Rationalist scholars have made much of the role of “audience costs” in committing leaders to particular policies once they have been made public—the idea being that leaders who back down from a particular policy would suffer political punishment by their constituents.55 There is no reason to think that these would not also bind state actors to a policy of emotional diplomacy, especially when it resonates with a domestic public. Finally, targets may see value in endorsing a policy of emotional diplomacy as sincere in order to rhetorically entrap an actor and elicit further substantive gestures. In cases of sympathy or guilt, there may be value in getting a state to perform further costly actions to demonstrate sincerity. Playing along with a display may have its own rewards. All said, while the desired consequence of emotional diplomacy is to shape the behav ior of a target audience by influencing its perceptions, even the most apparently sincere of displays may have difficultly swaying a highly skeptical target audience. But this does not mean that state actors can therefore dispense with emotional diplomacy. There is a simple logic behind this as well. Although engaging in emotional diplomacy may not be sufficient to convince a target, not displaying such behavior can have even graver consequences for their perceptions. Put differently, emotional diplomacy may still play an important role in preserv-

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

31

ing the possibility that an actor is sincere. For example, the U.S. display of remorse following the bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade may not have been capable of entirely convincing the PRC government and population the attack was an accident. But had the United States not shown any remorse, such a reaction would very certainly have signaled to the PRC and even the world community that the bombing was indeed intentional. The corollary of this is that the absence of particular emotional gestures can also communicate intentions, beliefs, or values. Just because communicative action concerning intentions or beliefs may not always be credible beyond all doubt by the standards of skeptical state elites does not mean that it is worthless. This is especially true when the observers are not simply other state actors, but also include third parties such as the domestic publics of other states. The choice not to engage in particular forms of emotional diplomacy, especially when it is expected of an actor with particular intentions or beliefs, can thus also have consequences. There is, therefore, also a logic of costless signaling at work here, one closely bound to the social meaning of emotional displays. In short, emotional diplomacy can shape how state actors perceive one another, how they act, and how they react. The potential results are substantive outcomes that we would not expect, nor could be achieved, with the traditionally theorized tools of statecraft. State actors may simply be seeking to realize traditional interests when they embark on a display of official emotion, but how the subsequent relationship unfolds depends upon a performative and interactive logic special to emotional diplomacy.

Variation in Emotional Diplomacy Emotional diplomacy, as used here, is an umbrella term that actually encompasses a significant diversity of forms of diplomatic behavior. Displays of emotional behav ior between states may be relatively subtle or loudly strident. They may stay at the level of rhetoric and symbolic gestures or incorporate costly military action. They may be brief and situational, or take the form of an enduring disposition to a particular target. Apart from variation in intensity and duration, however, emotional diplomacy is also composed of multiple, very dissimilar strains. As already noted above, displays of anger are quite different from displays of remorse. Each has its own means of expression, criteria for sincerity, and significance. But how do state actors know which expressions, behaviors, and meanings are associated with which strain of emotion? For the purposes of this book, I make a simple assumption: basic notions of emotional behav ior are largely shared throughout the international system. In

32

CHAPTER 1

other words, I assume that when choosing to perform emotional diplomacy, state actors are drawing upon a shared background knowledge of emotional behav ior. Or more precisely, I assume that the eliciting circumstances, expression, and meaning of emotions such as sympathy, anger, and guilt constitute background knowledge common to the state actors I am examining. I nevertheless need, however, a means to stipulate the content of this background knowledge independent of the behavior displayed in the cases I analyze. Otherwise, my claims would risk circularity. Therefore I further assume that by drawing upon existing scholarly literature on emotions—particularly from psychology and sociology—I can ex ante create an outline of the generally shared background knowledge pertaining to each emotional strain. I concede that these are simplifying assumptions. Nevertheless, there are reasons to think that they are not wholly unjustified. For one, there is the biological argument advanced by psychologists who take an evolutionary view.56 It states that because human beings all share a similar genetic heritage, there will exist recognizable similarities in socially acknowledged emotions across different societies and cultures. Evolutionary psychologists believe that emotions are the result of certain physiological and expressive responses that evolved over time to aid our ancestors in dealing with and reacting to external developments that were significant for their survival.57 Moreover, emotions relate to certain fundamental issues that have meaning for individuals in any given society—issues such as those of hierarchy, acceptance, novelty, physical danger, and loss.58 Accordingly, this view claims that we can, on the whole, expect a nonrandom degree of similarity across cultures in the basic composition of socially recognized emotions. As human beings, we rely on implicit knowledge of these emotions to have functioning relationships with other humans. State actors would not divest themselves of this knowledge when they enter into government. From this perspective, state actors would simply be transposing knowledge derived from universal social experience onto the international realm. Alternatively, there is the argument for the effects of international diffusion. Namely, despite the documented cultural variation of classical anthropological accounts, the actors being described here are not members of remote tribes, but for the most part educated elites in countries saturated with exposure to global cultural goods. Given that the global interpenetration of media and cultural goods has severely challenged the notion of independent, static cultures (if that was ever a viable model to begin with), it is highly likely that there is some basis for shared frames of reference. This latter view is complementary to the strands of scholarship in international relations associated with constructivism and the English School.59 According to such a view, emotional display rules would be part of the fabric of international society, rules that actors internalize through socialization

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

33

into the community of states. In essence, they would be another set of internationally disseminated norms. I cannot hope nor do I seek in this book to prove or disprove either of the above views. Moreover, they are not necessarily mutually exclusive and most likely reality is a mixture of both. Regardless, the point is that I view the state actors I examine in this book as sharing implicit background knowledge of the circumstances under which particular emotional responses are warranted; the discourse, expressive behav ior, and substantive gestures they entail; and the meanings that they convey. This claim, should it be empirically substantiated, can serve to enrich constructivist understandings of the social fabric of international relations, even conceivably suggest an alternative source—basic, shared understandings of human nature. Indeed, the very existence of emotional diplomacy points to the possibility that the lived individual experience of human beings spills over into state-level behav ior on the international stage. All in all, the assumption of basic similarity across the background knowledge concerning emotional displays in international relations is just that: an assumption. Cultural difference may well be a source of variation in performances of emotional diplomacy. There may also exist variance across historical eras. And these are all areas for possible future research, particularly that of the constructivist variety. Ultimately, the value of this assumption for the book will rest in its explanatory power. Should this assumption be incorrect, when state actors engage in emotional diplomacy we should expect to see mismatched perceptions, miscommunication, and conflicting interpretations. To foreshadow the findings of the follow chapters, however, for the cases examined in this book the assumption appeared to be sustainable.

Empirical Investigations So how does one study emotional diplomacy within international relations? The first step is to identify the strain of emotional diplomacy one is interested in investigating. The potential number of variants of emotional diplomacy is limited only by the range of human emotional experience. That said, some emotions— particularly positive ones like joy—are less likely to be invoked in high-stakes conflict situations or entail clear implications for substantive actions. As noted in the introduction, for these reasons, I have chosen to focus on three specific strains of emotional diplomacy: the diplomacies of anger, sympathy, and guilt. Granted, these are far from the only possibilities, a fact that I shall return to in the concluding chapter. But for the reasons given in the introduction they appeared to be decent bets for an initial foray into the field.

34

CHAPTER 1

Having identified the strain of emotional diplomacy one wishes to explore, the second step is to create a model of the basic components of the emotion in question prior to and independent of one’s empirical investigations. This model should include four basic elements: (1) the situational meaning for an actor that would elicit the emotion; (2) the discourse and expressive behaviors associated with the emotion; (3) the substantive action tendencies the emotion would elicit; and (4) what displaying this emotion would convey to other actors. The basic assumptions guiding this process are that (1) background knowledge of emotional behav ior is basically similar throughout the international system; and (2) that by drawing on existing scholarly literature one can make an approximate sketch of what that knowledge is as pertains to a specific emotion. For the purposes of this book, I have looked to the available American scholarly literature in the fields of psychology and sociology in constructing my models, and where feasible have also turned to scholarly literature in sending states (such as the FRG and the PRC) to further ensure that I was not overlooking important cross-cultural differences. Again, I admit that my basic assumptions quite possibly constitute gross simplifications of the complexity surrounding the social construction of emotions. However, I would argue that the value of the assumptions behind this method is to be judged by the analytical purchase gained. Moreover, this approach does not rule out revisiting the above assumptions in future studies to investigate the role of historical or cross-cultural variation in emotional expression. The third step is to translate the derived model into a set of propositions concerning when, how, and to what ends state actors would choose to project that specific emotion on the international stage. This includes specifying the expressive and substantive gestures required by that particular strain of emotional diplomacy as well as the meaning such an emotional display would communicate to other state actors. This creates clear expectations for why and in what manner state actors would engage in a particular strain of emotional diplomacy, including its strategic implications and its related equations of costs and benefits. Furthermore, doing so allows one to delineate the strategic options open to targets and the likely interactive dynamics that would follow. To be clear, emotional diplomacy is a strategy, not a knee-jerk response. The choice to engage in emotional diplomacy, as well as how much to invest in its performance, is a function both of the goals of the state actors in question and the situation they confront. Having established a basic model for the strain of emotional diplomacy of interest, it is now possible to shift to the stage of empirical investigation. When approaching an interaction where an investigator suspects emotional diplomacy to have been at work, it is necessary to first identify existing alternative explanations. These provide a benchmark for evaluating the analytical purchase gained by interpreting a specific interaction as an instance of emotional diplomacy.

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

35

For the purposes of this book, I label the alternative “traditional statecraft.” Traditional statecraft refers to a set of behaviors associated with a transactionalist notion of state interaction. Included under the label of traditional statecraft are the standard conceptions of bribery, quid-pro-quo bargaining, and coercion that fill much of the mainstream international relations literature; or as put in the words of Morgenthau, “persuasion, compromise, and threat of force.”60 Indeed, this set of actions is most commonly associated with what the international relations scholar John Ruggie has termed “neo-utilitarian” approaches.61 Such approaches generally view states as egotistical actors rationally pursuing their interests by navigating relations of material power.62 A basic assumption in these approaches is that the anarchic nature of the system forces states to rely on materially backed threats, incentives, or a mixture of the two to pursue their interests. In the chapters that follow, state actors may indeed at times be acting on the basis of the motives suggested by neo-utilitarian theories—I am agnostic on that account. To be clear, I am not offering a theory of motivations per se, nor do I offer a theoretical accounting of international anarchy, apart from noting the existence of certain shared understandings concerning emotional behav ior. This book is addressed to the forms of strategic action available to state actors and suggests that traditional notions of statecraft based upon such stripped-down materialist notions are too limited. Granted, constructivist approaches—with their thicker understanding of social behav ior—would seem to already have pointed in this same direction. But constructivism permits virtually any form of behav ior provided it has meaning for the actors involved; by further specifying the content of the social realm, the concept of emotional diplomacy is in many ways less a competing claim than a clarifying contribution. The most basic manner to discredit an explanation based on the propositions presented here is to demonstrate that the behav ior of the state actors involved was inconsistent with a strategy of emotional diplomacy, that their behavior conformed more closely to the dictates of traditional statecraft. Moreover, while it would be easy to point to the occasional flourish of emotional rhetoric on the international stage, the relative explanatory value of my contribution depends not only on whether or not actors employ emotional diplomacy as a strategy, but the extent to which it shaped important substantive behav ior, interactions, and outcomes within international politics. Investigating whether or not state actors were pursuing a strategy of emotional diplomacy necessitates in-depth qualitative analysis to survey state actors’ foreign policy decisions, private and public rhetoric, symbolic gestures, and foreign policy behavior, as well as the responses of their targets. Only by creating a full picture out of these various elements does it become possible to evaluate the theoretical

36

CHAPTER 1

claims presented here. The claim that state actors are employing a particular strain of emotional diplomacy can be checked against multiple empirical indicators. These include (1) the reasoning behind a particular course of action during foreign policy deliberations; (2) the actual discourse employed by sending state actors; (3) the expressive and symbolic gestures of sending state actors; (4) the timing and nature of substantive actions on the part of sending states; (5) the perceptions of target states; and (6) the reciprocal strategies of target states. If state actors are pursuing a strategy of emotional diplomacy, one should see explicit evidence of this in indicators 1–4, and very likely in indicators 5 and 6 as well. The empirical record can be examined across these indicators for correspondence to the model of a particular strain of emotional diplomacy the investigator has generated. In the case of indicator (1)—that is the reasoning behind a decision to engage in emotional diplomacy—one would ideally want to eavesdrop in on policymakers to see if they were explicitly selecting a strategy of emotional diplomacy and choosing substantive actions accordingly. And for indicators (5) and (6), one would also want to look in on deliberations within target states to see if their policies were indeed shaped by the perception that they were interacting with a state that was behaving emotionally. In a perfect world (for scholars, at least!), we would be able to sit in on all the processes of foreign policy decision making to observe whether these dynamics are actually at work. Alas, with few exceptions, we do not live in such a world and have to content ourselves with re-creating foreign policy decision making from available evidence.63 Possibly the second best alternative to such an ideal scenario is provided by those instances where the historical documents are open and available. By tracing the decision making processes at work (i.e., looking at those with directive dominance), it becomes possible to see if and how specific strategies of emotional diplomacy are explicitly chosen as a course of action. Absent open archives, one has to rely on memoirs, interviews, and reported accounts. In those cases where the archives are not yet open and other sources are also lacking, one has to rely on a congruence method, asking if the observable pattern of decision making, discourse, and expressive and substantive behav ior—that is, indicators (2), (3), and (4)—matches what would be expected from an actor engaging in emotional diplomacy, or if it is better explained by other theories. The objective is to examine whether or not state actors were engaged in a particular, coordinated strategic performance that involved projecting the image of an emotional response. This can be evaluated through triangulating their expressive gestures (particularly of those with dramatic dominance) and substantive behaviors, their own descriptions of and justifications for their behav ior, and the contemporary interpretations of outside observers. In addition, one needs to

EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

37

examine the target’s behav ior—indicator (6)—to evaluate whether the influence of emotional diplomacy fits what was expected. In the end, no one study can conclusively prove or disprove the absolute value of the propositions presented here. But each subsequent study can amass more evidence that strategies of emotional diplomacy are at work within international politics and significantly influence the choices and interactions of state actors. This, precisely, is the goal of the subsequent empirical chapters. Each follows the above template. As regards the empirical studies, where primary source evidence was available I have used this to examine the choices of state actors concerning whether or not to engage in emotional diplomacy and, correspondingly for their targets, how to react to such a strategy. Where such evidence was not accessible I have sought interviews, drawn upon open sources, and sought to triangulate rhetoric, actions, and external responses to make the case that the behav ior observed is best explained as an instance of emotional diplomacy. Should I make my case successfully in each of these studies, I will have convinced you, the reader, that there is indeed an alternative set of strategies at work in international relations, strategies rooted in emotional behavior. Such strategies manifest themselves in the choices and actions of state actors—not only those engaging in emotional diplomacy, but also those responding to it. Without recourse to such explanations, I claim, the behav ior of various state actors simply does not make sense.

To summarize, this book is addressed to an array of events that do not appear to conform to traditional understandings of how states pursue their interests and therefore suggests that there exists an alternative, as yet untheorized, species of international political behav ior: emotional diplomacy. Emotional diplomacy is an official, team performance of emotional labor on the international stage. It is intentional and strategic. Displaying emotion on the interstate level aims to shape perceptions and interactions in ways that bargaining or coercion cannot. This is possible because of the social significance attached to emotional behav ior. It is therefore an alternative means for state actors to realize certain goals. To be effective, however, emotional diplomacy must appear sincere, and performing emotions sincerely requires state actors to behave as if they are suspending standard, cold calculations of interest. It can therefore generate outcomes, including the deployment of material resources and the reactions elicited from its targets, at odds with traditional accounts of statecraft. The tools of international politics are not simply “persuasion, compromise, and threat of force”; they include the strategic, state-level display of emotions as well.64 And while I seek to challenge our traditional notions of statecraft as insufficient for explaining state behavior, I nevertheless draw upon the broader insights

38

CHAPTER 1

of rationalist, constructivist, and psychologically rooted work within the field of international relations.65 Emotional diplomacy can serve instrumental purposes; it may require substantive gestures as costly signals of sincerity; and it can shape the strategic choices of targets, thereby generating unique interactive dynamics. These are all aspects that echo rationalist arguments concerning games of strategic choice in the context of international politics. But emotional diplomacy also requires an international environment suffused with intersubjective beliefs concerning the nature and meaning of emotional behav ior. In this respect, the concept of emotional diplomacy is beholden to constructivist arguments concerning the social thickness of the international realm. Lastly, emotional diplomacy is only possible in a world where emotions have a social existence to begin with, and thus the arguments of this book also owe a debt to research on the significance of emotions in lived human experience. This book also offers contributions in return. For rationalists, it offers a new potential set of games. It does so by introducing the possibility that players may believe their counterparts capable of emotional responses, or at the very least, believe the other party susceptive to interpreting state-level displays of emotion as indicative of beliefs and intentions. For constructivists, it adds further content to the social realm state actors navigate. And for those working at the intersection of psychology and international relations, it further extends the implications of emotions for international relations while taking into account the complex, institutionalized character of state behavior. Perhaps even more significantly for all, this book offers a model of how we can integrate insights from different approaches within the field of international relations to generate new arguments.

2 THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

Southeastern Coastal Region, People’s Republic of China: 21 July 1995 Trails of fire lit up the early morning sky as the Second Artillery Division of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) launched two Dongfeng-15 missiles toward the East China Sea. One exploded prematurely over the territory of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The other, however, reached its objective: a target box mapped onto the ocean approximately ninety miles north of the Taiwanese capital city of Taipei. Over the next three days, the PLA would lob four more missiles into the waters northeast of Taiwan, causing panic on the island and inflicting damage to the value of the Taiwanese stock market and currency. Concurrently, the official PRC press deployed its own arsenal of ink against the island’s president, Lee Teng-hui. It repeatedly ran authoritative commentaries with apoplectic rhetoric, denouncing him among other things as “the wrongdoer responsible for damaging cross-strait relations.”1 The trigger for this combined assault was a visit one month prior by Lee Teng-hui to his alma mater, Cornell University. The PRC government had been engaged in a campaign to isolate Taiwan and viewed the visit as a major setback. Over the following months tensions would continue to escalate, climaxing in what one scholarly observer has termed “one of the most frightening” crises of recent times.2

How do we explain the ways in which state actors respond to perceived violations of their interests and the subsequent interactions that unfold? Traditional responses within the field of international relations tell us that state actors, to the 39

40

CHAPTER 2

extent that they are able, should engage in either bargaining or coercion, seeking to use payoffs and/or carefully calibrated threats to maintain their interests intact. This chapter offers an alternative possibility: the diplomacy of anger. The diplomacy of anger has its own logic and trajectory—it consists of a vehement and overt state-level display in response to a perceived offense. Although the diplomacy of anger threatens precipitous escalation in the face of further violations, it can be ameliorated by reconciliatory gestures and will subside over time absent new provocations. What is more, the diplomacy of anger can also exercise a reciprocal influence on the emotional dispositions of those that practice it. The diplomacy of anger can contribute to constructing particular issues as sensitive and volatile, and thus possibly outside the realm of standard costbenefit calculations. Consequently, while the diplomacy of anger is not necessarily more effective than traditional notions of coercion, it does differ in its implications. Specifically, the diplomacy of anger entails important differences for (1) the overt messages state actors communicate; (2) their particular sequencing of aggressive substantive actions; (3) the perceptions and responses of the state’s targets; and (4) the subsequent effects of an interaction. To explore the analytical utility achieved by theorizing a diplomacy of anger, this chapter looks to the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96. The crisis began in May of 1995, when the Clinton administration bowed to congressional pressure and approved a visit by Taiwanese president Lee Teng-hui to Cornell University. For the government of the PRC, this constituted a deliberate violation of prior understandings with the United States. Adding insult to injury, when Lee did visit Cornell several weeks later, he used the opportunity as a platform to make a political speech showcasing “the Taiwan experience” and appealing for more international space. The PRC subsequently responded with various punitive measures, including shows of force, and the crisis culminated in the United States dispatching two carrier battle groups to the seas around Taiwan. There are several reasons for selecting the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96 as empirical fodder. First, it is neither a trivial instance with little at stake nor a commonplace occurrence. It was a relatively extreme situation. This crisis involved displays of military force between two nuclear-armed powers and is one of the few such occasions during the post-Cold War period.3 As one account relates, at one point the Clinton administration began reviewing “combat scenarios that escalated up to nuclear war.”4 The Taiwan issue is one that scholars and other analysts have assessed as capable of resulting in war between the United States and PRC.5 Consequently, it fits the criteria of selection outlined in the introduction and, furthermore, was not a situation where policymakers would conceivably have had the leeway to act to frivolously.

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

41

Second, the crisis was not limited to one single event, but was composed of different stages that extended over a period of almost an entire year. These different stages involved significant variation in terms of rhetoric, behavior, and target response that begs for explanation. It therefore offers a rich empirical field. Third, and perhaps most importantly for our purposes here, there already exist scholarly analyses of this case. Because the PRC displayed force during this crisis, most accounts within the international relations literature have tended to view PRC behav ior as a standard example of traditional coercion.6 These alternative explanations provide a bar with which to measure the relative analytical utility of the new approach being presented here. This chapter proceeds in three parts. The section that immediately follows explores traditional explanations of the crisis as a standard case of coercion and argues they are incomplete for understanding the manner in which the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96 unfolded. The second section then outlines the basic components of the diplomacy of anger and contrasts this to theories of coercion. The third section shifts to the empirical study, examining the analytical value gained from viewing the behav ior of the PRC and its targets as an instance of the diplomacy of anger.

Explaining the 1995–96 Taiwan Strait Crisis from the Traditional Perspective When the U.S. government granted Taiwanese president Lee Teng-hui permission to visit his alma mater, it set in motion a series of events that culminated in shows of force both by the PRC and United States. How do we explain what occurred? The events of the crisis provoke a number of questions. The first is how to explain the vehemence of the PRC reaction to Lee’s visit, when in the words of one scholar, “China’s emotion exploded.”7 Instead of making demands and proportionally escalating, the PRC immediately responded with strong measures. PRC officials launched diplomatic broadsides, canceled visits, recalled their ambassador in Washington, initiated military exercises, and launched missiles. What accounts for this type of reaction? What type of strategy was this? Second, the ebbs and flows of PRC threats and displays of force beg additional explanation. After a strong initial outburst, the PRC subsequently acquiesced in a good number of the demands it had placed on the United States. But a few months later it escalated again. This all climaxed with the arrival of U.S. carriers in the waters around Taiwan, at which point tensions then dissipated quite quickly. The PRC and the United States went quite swiftly from displays of military

42

CHAPTER 2

strength to commitments for further dialogue. What explains such rapid shifts between types of behav ior? Finally, the initial response of the United States to PRC shows of force is also a puzzle. Although the PRC side went so far as to launch missiles into the waters near Taiwan, the United States at first maintained a decidedly reserved posture, and instead of making counterthreats or giving warnings adopted a relatively conciliatory attitude. More specifically, the United States refrained from harsh criticism of PRC military behavior; provided private assurances that future visits from high-level Taiwanese officials would be unofficial, seldom, and only decided case by case; and confidentially pledged the “United States opposed Taiwan independence, did not support a two-China policy, or a policy of one-China and one-Taiwan, and did not support Taiwan membership in the UN.”8 Although this still did not respond to a number of PRC demands, neither did it constitute a strong condemnation of PRC actions. It was only much later in the crisis that the United States chose to send carriers to the waters around Taiwan. How do we make sense of this?

Theories of Coercion The standard scholarly approach to this crisis in the field of international relations has been to view it as an episode of coercion, and to seek to make sense of it by applying existing theories of coercive diplomacy.9 Coercion, according to its most basic definition within international relations, is the use of threats of force to shape the behav ior of a target.10 Beyond that, there are multiple typologies of coercion, possibly the most famous being those of Thomas Schelling and Alexander George. Schelling subdivides coercion into compellence and deterrence.11 Compellence, according to Schelling, is the threat of punishment should an actor not carry out an action; it involves persuading an actor to undertake a specific action. Deterrence is threat of punishment should an actor carry out an action; it involves dissuading an actor from a particular action. George shares with Schelling this same definition of deterrence.12 George, however, views compellence as too broad a term, and thus proposes two alternative categories. He differentiates between the use of threats to force a target to “give up something of value,” which he calls blackmail, and the threat of force in order to “stop or reverse an action,” which he terms coercive diplomacy.13 What differentiates each of these types of coercion is the form and content of the communicated demand.14 In other words, whether coercion is being employed to compel or deter can only be known as a function of what is being required of the target. Consequently, the threat plays a central role in coercion, and how the threat is framed can have important implications for the likelihood

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

43

of its success. Threats can vary in the severity of their demands, the degree of urgency they create, the type and explicitness of the punishment they brandish, and the presence or absence of accompanying positive inducements.15 What unites all these types of coercion is that the use of force is held in reserve in case compliance is not forthcoming. Coercion succeeds through making the perceived pain caused to a target for noncompliance greater than the benefits to be gained from defiance.16 Coercion fails when the threat was insufficiently costly or credible to induce compliance. In this latter situation, the coercing party must then decide whether or not to follow through with the threat.

Looking at the Crisis as an Episode of Coercion So how does this approach do in making sense of PRC behav ior? Existing analyses have generally treated PRC behav ior during the crisis as a classic example of compellent behav ior (or, as phrased by George, coercive diplomacy).17 In other words, the standard explanation for PRC behav ior is that it was seeking to use the threat of force to alter U.S. and Taiwanese behavior. The position of this chapter is that such a view offers at best a partial and incomplete means of comprehending the behav ior of the PRC and its targets. First, if the PRC was in fact seeking to level compellent threats at the United States in the months after the Lee visit, it chose an odd communicative strategy for doing so. Indeed, one analysis admits that PRC threats aimed at compellence “were confusing.”18 This is true even if one filters out all the emotionally laden rhetoric. Instead of making clear threats to escalate should certain demands—such as for a “fourth communiqué” declaring a new understanding between the United States and China—not be met, PRC officials portrayed themselves as an aggrieved party deserving of compensation. In the summer and fall of 1995, the PRC repeatedly emphasized that the United States needed to, in the words of one PRC Foreign Ministry speaker, “take full responsibility, adopt earnest measures, and thoroughly dispel the horrible effects [of its actions]. . . . What polices the United States will take towards China, what direction [the United States] wants Sino-American relations to go, we are waiting to see.”19 The message was thus a clear one: the United States had damaged the SinoAmerican relationship and therefore bore the responsibility of taking acts to repair it. To quote the then PRC premier Li Peng, “the actions of the United States have enormously hurt the feelings of the entire Chinese people. . . . The United States should acknowledge its own mistake [and] should take real moves.”20 Robert Suettinger, former director for Asian Affairs on the National Security Council, described PRC behav ior in this period as an “effort to really milk this for all it was worth.”21

44

CHAPTER 2

PRC officials could have calmly announced explicit “lines in the sand” that would trigger escalated missile firings or exercises. PRC displays of force could have been proclaimed further in advance and made contingent on the fulfillment of clearly stated demands. The PRC could even have declared a willingness to bargain with the threat of force in reserve. All these would have made sense for an actor seeking to engage in traditional compellence. And yet actual PRC statements appear more to suggest attempts to extract concessions by depicting itself as an injured party requiring recompense. What type of communicative strategy was this? Further complicating analysis of this behavior as straightforward compellence is the reactive, punitive nature of PRC actions. Using military exercises, the PRC struck out at Lee by seeking to harm both the Taiwanese economy and electoral support for pro-independence actors. One could argue the PRC was seeking to ratchet up the costs for Lee in a “turning of the screw” approach.22 But this misses how the exercises were declared at short notice for maximum impact as opposed to being made contingent on specific demands. The PRC also lashed out against the United States not just by pulling back its ambassador, but also by canceling meetings, allowing factories producing pirated goods to reopen, rounding up dissidents (including an American citizen), allegedly transferring weapons and technology to Pakistan, and being uncooperative in the sharing of counternarcotics intelligence.23 The PRC could have first threatened these actions in succession, but instead it just acted. It was as if the PRC sought to have its targets suffer first, then give them the opportunity to change their behav ior. If the PRC was seeking to compel behav ior, why did it react so vehemently at the outset instead of seeking to sequentially and proportionally leverage its actions for concessions? What is more, on the surface PRC behav ior was not just compellent or punitive; the PRC also simultaneously sent deterrent messages. For instance, one commentary in the People’s Daily stated, “If Taiwan declares independence, China will not idly stand by, the word of the Chinese people is definite. Taiwan is a powder keg. . . . Advice for the American government, advice for people like Lee Teng-hui, advice for all who are heating up this powder keg of Taiwan independence for their short-term interests: caution, caution!”24 Or to quote the colorful language of the People’s Liberation Army Daily describing PLA soldiers, “their iron oath resounds through the seas and heavens . . . there is no way to permit one inch of territory to separate from the homeland.”25 More practically, the PRC repeatedly made known it would not rule out the use of force should Taiwan declare independence.26 These statements even further strain attempts at classifying PRC behav ior simply as compellent. Proponents of the traditional conception of coercion could claim the overwhelming focus on the compellent element of PRC behav ior in existing writings reflects the analytical choices of specific authors, not problems with the lens of

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

45

coercion itself—one could simply expand the analysis to include these other facets, such as the punitive and deterrent nature of PRC actions. Stated differently, one could describe PRC behav ior as concurrently aimed to punish past behav ior, change current behavior, and prevent undesired future actions. Additionally, deterrence and compellence/coercive diplomacy are ideal types; it is natural that these might bleed into one another in the real world.27 Nevertheless, how does one analytically reconcile all these different framings? It is dubious whether describing PRC behav ior as a trifurcated deterrentcompellent-punitive strategy would add analytical clarity. When it is not obvious where one category ends and the other begins, it becomes particularly difficult to allocate ratios of intention and priority among them. One can also seek to explain away such problems as complexities of the “real world” and the “noise” generated by all-too-human policymakers, but such post hoc attempts run the risk of what George himself calls “pseudo-explanations” with “a circular character.”28 The fact that PRC behav ior does not fit nicely into any one specific existing category (compellence, deterrence, or punishment) raises the question of whether or not these categories are simply being superimposed upon a phenomenon driven by a different logic.29 All the same, one could make the argument that the discourse and minor symbolic actions were simply window dressing and the labels we attach to the behavior secondary; what really mattered was that these actions were aimed at raising— or the very least threatening the prospect of—additional costs should its targets not change their behav ior. But here too is another puzzle. As stated above, in the immediate aftermath of the Lee visit, the PRC launched a ferocious verbal barrage coupled with various sanctions and military exercises. But several months later it acquiesced regarding many of its apparent demands on the United States including those seeking a formal, public statement on Taiwan and a full state visit for PRC leader Jiang Zemin. Scholars such as Robert Ross, Wallace Thiess, and Patrick Bratton all classify this as a coercive failure, but argue the PRC backed down in order to repair relations with the United States in advance of further plans for saber rattling in the direction of Taiwan in the winter of 1995.30 Yet deteriorating relations with the United States did not stop the PRC in the following spring from engaging in its largest display of force toward Taiwan in decades. In March of 1996 the PRC leadership demonstrated the lengths to which it was willing to go by engaging in massive exercises and launching missiles into the sea quite near to Taiwan—despite clear U.S. objections. If it was willing to take such measures in 1996, why did it apparently back down so readily in the fall of 1995? What explains the ebb and flow of PRC actions? Adding yet another wrinkle to this puzzle is the response of the U.S. government to the exercises and other punitive actions taken by the PRC in 1995. If the

46

CHAPTER 2

United States saw itself as a target of coercion—or even if it saw Taiwan as the target of an escalating series of coercive threats—why did it not react more strongly against PRC displays of force in 1995? Quite simply, from a coercive perspective, it would have made sense for the United States to signal to the PRC early on that the cost-benefit balance of attempting coercion was not in its favor. Instead, the response, in historian Nancy Tucker’s words, was one of “passivity in the wake of missile firings into waters close to Taiwan. . . . After subdued expressions of concern . . . nothing followed.”31 When commenting on the first round of missile exercises in 1995, the State Department simply stated it did “not believe that this test contributes to peace and stability in the area.”32 Two weeks later, as a new round of exercises were announced, it reiterated the same formulation.33 When the PRC held large military exercises in October, simulating an amphibious invasion, the official U.S. response was that “it is not unusual for a country to have military exercises.”34 Finally, when Joseph Nye, the assistant secretary of defense for International Security Affairs, was in Beijing in November, he remained purposefully vague, stating only “ ‘we don’t know and you don’t know’ exactly how the United States would respond to action against Taiwan.”35 How do we explain the U.S. decision to show restraint here? None of this is to say that traditional understandings of coercion would not have greater analytical purchase in other situations; rather, there appears to be a logic at work in this case the standard notion of coercion appears ill equipped to capture. The PRC leadership wanted to send a message to the United States and Taiwan about what it would tolerate. The questions are (1) how we make sense of the means it chose to do so; and (2) what effects that had on its subsequent interactions with its targets. The answers, this chapter argues, can be provided by viewing the PRC as engaging in a diplomacy of anger. Making this argument, however, first requires outlining what constitutes anger and then deriving from this a model of state behav ior.

The Diplomacy of Anger Anger The Roman poet Horace wrote that “anger is a brief lunacy.”36 Anger has the reputation of usurping rationality, even leading those under its sway into acts of destructive aggression. And yet anger is not without its utility. In the words of Aristotle, “people who do not get angry over what they should seem silly . . . as they do not get angry, they are not apt to defend themselves.”37 Herein lies the paradox of anger. It can imperil relationships and social stability, but at the same it time it works to maintain and protect what actors value. This paradox is also

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

47

at work within the diplomacy of anger, and shapes both the incentives and risks state actors face in its enactment. In what follows, I lay out in greater detail a basic model of anger, one that I contend undergirds the choices of state actors as concerns the diplomacy of anger.38 As with the other chapters, I operate from the assumption that this understanding of anger is shared across state actors on the international stage.39 Anger is a reactive emotion, a response to a wrongful violation or insult by a blameworthy party.40 Anger involves issues that are meaningful to the actor in question, and thus communicates to its target the perceived significance of the issue at stake. Anger also has an important moral component. It signals not just that others are behaving against an actor’s wishes, but that others ought not to be behaving in such a manner, that their conduct is unjust, unfair, or wrong. Notably, as evidenced in the quote from Aristotle above, not showing anger in the face of blatant affronts can signal weakness or capitulation.41 Actors in a state of anger are seen as less rational (i.e., Horace’s “brief lunacy”), more prone to belligerent behavior, and likely to lash out at the source of the obstruction or violation.42 Anger is also frequently accompanied by a discourse of accusation and blame. Anger on the individual level manifests itself in expressions that signal hostility and aggression—elevated tone of voice, glowering, sudden and violent movements. Anger motivates actors to strike back at and punish the cause of the eliciting offense, and the force of the reaction is related to the perceived importance of the violation in question. Actors under the sway of anger may be capable of destructive acts in which they otherwise would not engage. Anger is most intense immediately following a violation and will “cool” as the violation fades into the past. Anger, therefore, is temporary; it is a direct response to a specific situation whose intensity, without further stimulation, will generally dissipate with the passage of time.43 But if an actor in the midst of an anger episode is further provoked, anger and its attendant behavioral manifestations can escalate precipitously. Displays of anger encourage—even demand—acts of reconciliation by the target to placate their author. By acknowledging a violation has occurred and taking action to rectify it, targets of anger can seek to ameliorate an angry response. This requires, however, that the angry actor be open to such gestures, something that may not always be the case, particularly at the onset of the anger episode. In sum, anger has a very specific trajectory. It begins with an immediate aggressive and punitive reaction to a perceived wrong which then subsides over time. This process of abatement can be accelerated by conciliatory behavior on the part of the target, or can be reversed into renewed escalation by subsequent violations. While anger entails the possibility of extreme and destructive behav ior, it simultaneously serves the social function of seeking to rectify a wrong by pursuing

48

CHAPTER 2

satisfaction from the responsible party—whether through exacting retribution, eliciting compensation, or receiving an apology and revalidation of the norms that were broken.44

The Diplomacy of Anger Transferred to the realm of international relations, the above suggests that the strategic value of the diplomacy of anger lies in the image state actors convey to others about what they will or will not tolerate, where the red lines of acceptable behav ior are drawn, and what the strength of their commitments are. In short, there are different issues in the world. Some concern straightforward interests, where bargaining and coercion is standard practice. Others are normative issues, issues of principle in which actors are emotionally invested and will not accept breach. Displays of anger seek to communicate to their target that the latter is in play. By projecting the image of anger, state actors thus signal that a violation has occurred concerning a normative, emotionally salient issue about which they care. The benefit of displaying anger thus lies in its ability to communicate the sensitivity and significance of the issue at stake. To not show anger would be a sign of acquiescence. Yet for state actors, displaying anger also has its risks. If a target remains defiant and engages in further provocations, the logic of anger requires steep escalation. In real terms, this can involve substantive punishing gestures or concrete shows of aggression. Such behav ior carries the danger of damaging the relationship with the target and possibly ending in outright conflict. Conversely, abandoning an initiated episode of anger can signal weakness. State actors that react with harsh accusations and outrage at an initial violation but fall silent when their target persists in its provocations will have only revealed their own impotence. This, in turn, can conceivably be costly both in terms of their international reputation and popular domestic support.45 Consequently, this combination of incentive and risk suggests that state actors will engage in the diplomacy of anger when they view the imperative of defending particular norms as outweighing the danger of harming their relationship with the targets, sparking greater conflict, or being forced to back down. The diplomacy of anger becomes possible when a violation occurs. But it is through the choice of state actors to overtly project an image of anger on the international stage that it becomes policy. Granted, in some cases policymakers may also be encouraged to such a choice by their own anger in the moment. There is, however, a levels-of-analysis issue here. On the individual level, angry reactions, especially strong ones, can result in spontaneous, automatic, and unregulated expressive displays but are also of-

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

49

ten volatile and fleeting. For a state to appear to be expressing an anger—not just an isolated official here or there—the numerous state representatives involved all have to be following the same basic script, and this does not occur spontaneously. The diplomacy of anger—and emotional diplomacy more broadly—is a deliberate, state-level effort to actively project an emotional image. Individual anger on the part of certain policymakers may be one of many inputs into the decision-making process. The diplomacy of anger, in turn, is one of the possible forms of state-level behav ior state actors may select to achieve the goals that emerge from such processes. Policymakers can—and likely often do—feel anger without it resulting in a state-level display on the international stage. And statelevel displays of anger need not reflect the personal feelings of those tasked with their performance. The two are not the same and do not even bear a necessary relationship. Should state actors choose to project an image of anger, we should expect to observe this in a series of behavioral indicators. The first is discursive. Most obviously, we should anticipate statements that explicitly refer to anger or its variants, such as outrage or indignation, as well as ones that paint the situation in emotionally laden terms. While conceivably restrained by the conventions of diplomatic expression, derogatory or hyperbolic speech is possible. The discourse of anger also includes a particular framing of the conflict as a wrongdoing requiring rectification, for which the target bears responsibility. We should thus expect denunciations of the target and its alleged violation accompanied by demands for acts of penance or rectification. The second set of indicators is expressive. For those personally responsible for conveying official anger, the task can require employing the techniques of emotional labor as outlined in the previous chapter. The messengers of official anger may therefore need to display anger themselves, with all its accompanying indicators in the form of furrowed brows, clenched fists, brusque movements, and excited speech. To cite an example, Zou Jianhua, a former spokesman for the PRC Foreign Ministry, tells of a Foreign Ministry official who received a cellphone call from an American journalist about U.S. arms sales to Taiwan while shopping at a supermarket. In seeking to convey the PRC position, the official on the spot worked himself into such a “vehement and impassioned” attack that, according to Zou, other customers mistook him for a “lunatic.”46 We cannot know the form of emotional display in which the official was engaging—whether surface, deep, or genuine—but we can know that it was officially expected and required, and by no means a personal tirade. If the latter had been the case, it is unlikely the official would have kept his job. The final set of indicators falls under the category of substantive gestures. In some cases, state actors may deem it sufficient simply to communicate official

50

CHAPTER 2

anger with outraged speech and expressive gestures. In other cases, however, state actors may view it necessary to back up their expressive displays with substantive gestures meant to convey their sincerity and the seriousness of the situation. Under these latter circumstances, state actors may choose to engage in a series of behaviors ranging from minor punitive actions to major shows of force. Within international relations, punitive actions include withholding cooperation, shutting down channels of official communication, harassing or sabotaging the efforts of another state, or leveling various sanctions. In short, these are actions that aim to strike back at the target. Anger, however, is also associated with more aggressive behaviors, and therefore displays of military might such as military exercises or other forms of saber rattling are also a possibility. In extreme situations, outright hostilities may even ensue. The above constitutes the fundamental elements of the diplomacy of anger: its eliciting circumstances, its significance, and the manner in which it is performed both expressively and substantively. These allow for considerable leeway, in particular concerning the intensity and length of performance. All the same, the diplomacy of anger in any of its forms shares a basic logic that offers an alternative to existing theories concerning how state actors can and do respond to challenges to their interests. Certainly, at first glance, it may appear that the diplomacy of anger and traditional notions of coercion share much in common. Most prominently, both involve actors placing demands on a target and both carry the possibility of escalation to the use of force. Placed side by side, however, a number of significant points of divergence become apparent. These divergences have important implications for the interactions and escalatory dynamics that would emerge from their respective deployment. The first point of divergence is that the diplomacy of anger has a distinct expressive idiom. As noted above, the diplomacy of anger deploys a rhetoric of outrage and accusation, coupled with calls for the target to rectify a wrong. The diplomacy of anger has a specifically moral tone to it and calls upon the target to restore the norms that were violated. Coupled with this discourse are also gestures meant to convey displeasure—ranging from facial expressions and tone of voice to symbolic gestures like walking out of a meeting, terminating communication, or engaging in petty harassment. These expressive gestures and moral posturing are superfluous to standard approaches of coercive diplomacy, but play an important role for the diplomacy of anger in constructing the image of official, corporate anger. A critic might object that such rhetoric is decorative, and what really matters is the ways in which substantive actions convey the threat to use force. Ceasing cooperation, engaging in military exercises, and other forms of saber rattling—

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

51

these are the substantive actions cited above as corresponding with the diplomacy of anger. Stripped of decorative rhetoric, a critic might argue, these substantive actions just as easily fit within a coercive approach. The problem, however, is that stripped of accompanying rhetoric actions can take any number of meanings. As Robert Jervis notes, “actions are not automatically less ambiguous than words . . . without an accompanying message it may be impossible for the perceiving actor to determine what image the other is trying to project.”47 Consider the case of a visible PRC display of force, the 2007 antisatellite test. Official PRC silence at the time led to widespread confusion and speculation, prompting some China experts to suggest that it was the product of “the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing.”48 Lacking a clear message, this test elicited debate over whether or not there was even any strategy behind it at all. Accompanying rhetoric is therefore important in determining the meaning of actions, and is not so easily dismissed. Certainly, military shows of force can serve to underscore classic ultimata or constitute attempts to “turn the screw.” But they can also be used to intensify and bolster the diplomacy of anger. To determine the difference, one needs to look at the message with which substantive gestures are being paired. That said, there is another way to differentiate substantive actions deployed according to standard models of coercion from those that are part of the diplomacy of anger: sequencing. The standard logic of coercion and the logic of anger follow different trajectories. Standard coercion involves making a demand, waiting for a response, and should the target not comply, engaging in a threatened substantive action. Anger, in contrast, involves an immediate “lashing out.” It results in a strong initial punitive and aggressive display, which—absent further provocations—de-escalates over time and can be further assuaged by efforts of the target to reaffirm norms and rebuild the relationship. Targets of coercion can stop preannounced substantive action with compliance; targets of anger are expected first to suffer through before being allowed the opportunity for reconciliation. Additional provocation of an angry actor, however, can produce rapid escalation—not simply tit-for-tat—with the possibility that things might spiral out of control. An anger episode thus represents a period of heightened sensitivity to defiant behavior by the target during which the possibility of escalation over minor infractions increases. Differences between standard forms of coercion and the diplomacy of anger are further reflected in the ways in which other states are likely to react to being the targets of the official anger. It is not simply that targets will recognize and describe the behav ior of the state in question as “angry” or “emotional,” but that they will also choose their responses according to this logic. Specifically, targets

52

CHAPTER 2

will see themselves as having three options. First, they can choose to run the risk of further agitating the situation with defiant responses. Second, they can wait for the episode to subside. Should they take this course, however, they need to be careful to avoid even the appearance of additional provocations. Finally, they can make conciliatory gestures that would speed the process of reconciliation. To be clear, conciliatory gestures should not be confused with payoffs. Given the moral nature of anger, they must include efforts to reaffirm the norms that were broken and repair the relationship. Coercion, in contrast, is generally theorized as aimed at behav ior, and lacks this normative component. Whether or not targets actually engage in conciliatory action or continue with further provocations depends on several factors. First, targets may see little need for reconciliation if they do not value the relationship with the target and welcome conflict. Second, targets may also refrain from conciliatory gestures if they view the anger as unjustified and disagree about the norms in question. Finally, targets may see little need for reconciliation if they believe that the anger is not intense or serious enough to warrant concern. Just as repeated coercive threats on which actors fail to follow though may lead to dismissal, so too the rhetoric of anger may lose its significance if not frequently paired with substantive action. A last significant point is that while the diplomacy of anger is not necessarily more effective than standard forms of coercion, it does have distinct effects. This is due to its ability to both mobilize and project an emotional image. Schelling has written on the benefits of appearing irrational and impervious to costs.49 The diplomacy of anger threatens a similar dynamic, presenting the target with the possibility of rapid and disproportionate escalation in response to further violations. Moreover, the diplomacy of anger can work to constitute particular issues as “emotional” and “explosive.” By rallying a large-scale, collective display of anger, state actors can set in motion reciprocal emotional dynamics and reinforce the message that a specific issue is beyond the conventional realm of politics and subject to nonnegotiable emotional commitments. These emotional dynamics may be realized through several pathways. First, those within a government who may indeed feel genuine anger are allowed, even encouraged, to express it openly and cultivate it further. Anger becomes not just sanctioned, but promoted as an emotional response toward particular actors. Second, the indignant discourse that state actors adopt as part of their display can work to elicit further outrage by pointing out and playing up in poignant terms the ways in which a state has been unjustly wronged. In short, angry rhetoric may generate emotional echoes, both officially and publicly. Finally, the surface and deep acting techniques outlined in the introduction can conceivably create and feed into actual feeling. As noted earlier, psychologists have argued that enacting particular emotions can actually

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

53

generate corresponding feelings.50 Real emotion can thus be produced in the process of executing policy. Once unleashed, such reciprocal dynamics may take on a trajectory of their own, such that state actors find it difficult to reverse course.51 Mobilized emotion may not be easy to simply switch off. Even after an episode has subsided, targets may be left with the impression that a particular issue remains a source of emotional volatility. The diplomacy of anger thus works to depict issues as involving emotional factors outside standard cost-benefit calculations of interest. This emotional component is absent in traditional theories of coercion.

Empirical Investigations The above has laid out the two competing explanatory frameworks to be evaluated here. In what follows, I examine in depth the Taiwan Strait Crisis. My argument is simple: both PRC behav ior and the responses it evoked conform to what one would expect of the diplomacy of anger. At places interspersed through this study I highlight how different actions fit with this argument, and where appropriate compare these to the coercive approach. I reserve a comprehensive comparison of the analytical purchase of the coercive and diplomacy of anger approaches for the end of the study, after having introduced the details of the case. Before proceeding to the empirical meat of the study, however, it is necessary to place it within its historical context.

Background In January of 1994, Cornell University president Frank H. T. Rhodes invited Taiwanese president Lee Teng-hui, himself a 1968 PhD graduate of Cornell’s Agricultural Economics program, to return to the university to present a lecture and enjoy a round of golf. Lee had become president of Taiwan in 1988 and had overseen a number of democratic reforms on the island. Lee also embraced the policy of “pragmatic diplomacy,” seeking to boost international recognition of Taiwan, regain a seat at the United Nations (UN), and expand Taiwan’s formal diplomatic relations.52 Under Lee, the government of Taiwan discarded its policy of refusing to join international organizations where the PRC was a member, accepted the designation of “informal trip” or “vacation” when officials visited countries that had diplomatic relations with the PRC, and used the lure of development aid to obtain diplomatic recognition. The PRC leadership viewed these developments with anxiety and Lee, in particular, with suspicion.53 Taiwan under the leadership of Chiang Kai-shek and his son, Chiang Ching-kuo, had maintained

54

CHAPTER 2

the position Taiwan was part of China, even if they had not recognized the PRC as its legitimate government. The PRC now worried that the Lee’s true intention was to abandon the previous commitment of Taiwan’s ruling party to the principle of “one China” and promote Taiwanese independence.54 Consequently, the PRC government strongly opposed Lee’s U.S. visit. Anything that would raise the international status of Taiwan as an official government was an anathema to PRC leaders, and a trip by Lee to Cornell fell squarely into that category.55 Taiwanese leaders had already used the pretext of private vacations to visit states in Southeast Asia, traveling to countries such as the Philippines, Indonesia, and Thailand.56 The PRC government thus saw Lee as yet again using the guise of “informality” to cement Taiwan‘s position as a separate political entity on the international stage, and a trip to the United States would be a major coup. Furthermore, these efforts came against a background of various frictions within PRC-U.S. relations. In the first years of the Clinton administration, there had already been a showdown between the two states concerning U.S. renewal of most-favored-nation trading rights for the PRC given ongoing human rights concerns about the latter. Additionally, the Clinton administration had followed through with its predecessor’s decision to sell Taiwan new F-16 fighters and proffered E-2 Hawkeye early warning aircraft as well—choices hard to square with previous U.S. promises to reduce arms sales to the island. All this—when combined with the perceptions on the PRC side that the U.S. government had helped defeat Beijing’s bid for the Olympics, unlawfully forced inspection of the Chinese freighter Ying He for chemical weapons components, and wrongly applied sanctions in response to an alleged transfer of missile parts to Pakistan—served to steadily worsen relations between the two countries.57 That said, within the United States the administration of President Bill Clinton was also against the visit, despite the fact that it had become a cause célèbre among Republican and Democratic congressional representatives alike. Speaking in front of Congress in September of 1994, Assistant Secretary of State Winston Lord explicitly stated, “it would be a serious mistake to derail this basic policy of several administrations by introducing what China would undoubtedly perceive as officiality in our relations with Taiwan. This is why the Administration strongly opposes Congressional attempts to legislate visits by top leaders of the ‘Republic of China’ to the U.S.”58 The policy to which Lord was referring stated that relations between the United States and Taiwan should be of an unofficial nature only. This was not a unilateral policy; it was enshrined in three joint communiqués previously signed by the U.S. and PRC governments. Confronted in Congress in February the following year, the administration‘s position had not

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

55

changed. In response to Representative Sam Gejdenson’s observation that “it seems to me illogical not to let President Lee on a private basis go back to his alma mater,” Lord brusquely replied, “We have a balancing act, and we don’t apologize for that.”59 The U.S. government was conveying a similar message to the PRC. In April of 1995, Secretary of State Warren Christopher informed PRC foreign minister Qian Qichen that giving Lee a visa would be “inconsistent” with the nature of the relationship.60 Christopher also writes in his memoirs, however, that he warned Qian that congressional pressure for a visa was building, but surmises that “he only heard the first half of my statement.”61 Indeed, congressional pressure was building, and in early May of 1995, both houses passed nonbinding resolutions urging Clinton to approve a visit from Lee. Nevertheless, after their passage, State Department spokesman John Otta publicly reiterated that the U.S. government would not grant Lee a visa, stating that “a visit by a person of President Lee’s title, whether or not the visit were termed private, would unavoidably be seen by the People’s Republic of China as removing an essential element of unofficiality in the U.S.-Taiwan relationship.”62 Regardless of what the Clinton administration was saying publicly, however, behind the closed doors of the White House the external pressure had started to have an effect. On the one hand, the administration was worried that Congress might adopt more drastic measures regarding Taiwan if the White House did not take action; on the other, Clinton did not want to look like he was “kowtowing” to Beijing.63 On 19 May 1995, Clinton formally reversed the policy that State Department officials been publicly defending only a week earlier, and that very evening Taiwan was notified that Lee’s visit to Cornell would be approved. The U.S. government gave the PRC two days’ advance notice before making the decision public. On 20 May, National Security Advisor Anthony Lake and Undersecretary of State Peter Tarnoff summoned PRC ambassador Li Daoyu to convey Clinton’s decision. One Chinese account reports that upon hearing the news, Li “expressed strong protest.”64 According to a State Department official interviewed by James Mann, Li sarcastically inquired if Castro would also be allowed to enjoy the same freedom of travel to the United States.65 When the U.S. government publicly announced the decision in a press conference on 22 May, the administration reversed its past stance on the meaning of such a visit and sought to paint the trip as entirely unofficial and therefore without relevance for Sino-American relations. Asked at a press conference about the reaction of the PRC ambassador, a State Department spokesman glibly answered, “I don’t think that there was overwhelming applause.”66

56

CHAPTER 2

Preliminary Response The initial reaction of the PRC fits with what one would expect from a state engaging in the diplomacy of anger. The day after the announcement in the United States, the front page of the People’s Daily carried the PRC’s response: “On May 22, the American government, ignoring the Chinese side’s firm opposition and numerous solemn conveyances, announced permission for Lee Teng-Hui to make a so-called private visit to the United States. This is an extremely serious U.S. government action that completely violates the basic principles of the three joint Sino-American communiqués, injures Chinese sovereignty and damages the great cause of Chinese unification, and brazenly creates ‘two Chinas’ or ‘one China, one Taiwan.’ Towards this the Chinese government and people express enormous righteous indignation ( fenkai), and moreover convey strong protest to the U.S. government.”67 What followed this opening statement was a classic example of the discourse of anger, including accusations, emotionally loaded language, and the punctuation of statements with exclamation marks.68 For example, noting that the U.S. government had previously claimed that any visit by Lee could not avoid the appearance of having an official character, the statement proclaimed, “Before the sound of these words had stopped ringing, the U.S. government made a onehundred-eighty degree turn. Regarding such a major issue of principle, the U.S. government contradicted itself, ate its own words, is there any international believability left to speak of! The U.S. government by doing this has damaged its own reputation, damaged Sino-American relations, and in reality has damaged U.S. basic interests.”69 The statement concluded, “If the United States appraises the situation wrongly, clings obstinately to its course, it will cause SinoAmerican relations serious damage, for which all the results the United States will have to bear full responsibility.”70 The same day, Qian summoned the U.S. ambassador to “express extreme righteous indignation ( fenkai) and strong condemnation towards the abominable U.S. government actions that had violated Chinese sovereignty and done great damage to the cause of peaceful unification.”71 Qian added, “the development of the situation has forced us to have no choice but to strongly respond, the U.S. side bears the entire responsibility for this.”72 The U.S. ambassador to China at the time, Stapleton Roy, later said that after the announcement, “he had become a pariah in Beijing.”73 This message—replete with the language of indignation and anger—was broadcast in various iterations through multiple channels. The Foreign Affairs Committees of the People’s National Congress and the People’s Political Consultative Committee buttressed Qian’s comments with statements of their own, the

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

57

former announcing that its members “felt tremendous shock and righteous indignation ( fenkai),” the latter expressing “extreme righteous indignation ( fenkai) and strong condemnation.”74 The spokesperson for Taiwan Affairs also expressed “extreme righteous anger (yifen).”75 A further opinion piece in the People’s Daily noted that such actions “cannot but make people righteously indignant ( fenkai).”76 These words, in turn, were swiftly supplemented with actions. The first measure taken by the PRC government was to “postpone” the visit of defense minister and State Council member Chi Haotian and break off the visits of State Council member Li Chaogui and Air Force commander Yu Zhenwu.77 Shortly thereafter, the PRC government announced that it was suspending all talks regarding the Missile Technology Control Regime and nuclear cooperation between the two countries.78 Moreover, it suspended plans for visits to China by the U.S. deputy assistant secretary for Political and Military Affairs and the head of the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency.79 Arms control was an issue of importance to the U.S. government, particularly given past PRC military sales and sensitive technology transfers to countries such as Pakistan and Iran—by stopping all talks, the PRC government was striking back at something that mattered to United States. The U.S. government reacted to all this with a conciliatory effort meant to convince its PRC counterparts that Lee’s visit did not represent anything more than a private visit. Secretary of State Christopher sent a letter to Qian, explaining that Clinton had chosen to allow the visit in order to prevent Congress from taking stronger measures and, furthermore, stating that the visit was purely private— no White House representatives would meet with Lee.80 Shortly before Lee was to make his speech at Cornell, Clinton invited the PRC ambassador Li Daoyu to the White House where he personally explained that the goal of Lee’s visit was not to create “one China, one Taiwan,” and reaffirmed a “one China” policy.81 Suettinger nevertheless describes Li during his meeting with Clinton as “angry and insolent, clenching his fist and pumping his legs to augment his brusque talking points.”82 This was a small foretaste of what was to come.

Lee’s Visit and Its Fallout Lee’s airplane touched down in Los Angeles on 7 June, marking the first time that a Taiwanese president had ever visited in the continental United States. Accompanying Lee was a bevy of Taiwanese officials and spokepeople, as well as eightysix Taiwanese reporters.83 From the airport, Lee proceeded directly to his hotel where, among others, he met the mayor of Los Angeles and a representative of the Californian governor.84 The following day, Lee flew to Syracuse, where he was met by three U.S. senators.85 He spent the next two days at Cornell, meeting not

58

CHAPTER 2

only with alumni and professors, but also with several more congresspeople and viewing the videotaped messages of thirty others.86 Lee subsequently flew out of Syracuse and stopped for one more day in Anchorage, Alaska, where he met with the Alaskan governor before flying back to Taiwan.87 In total, Lee spent five days in the United States. Even if during this time he was not given “presidential treatment” by the U.S. government, Lee nonetheless enjoyed an impressive degree of celebrity, traveling in limousine motorcades, being everywhere received by flagwaving supporters, meeting with senators, congresspeople, and local officials, and attracting significant international media coverage. Although all this in and of itself would likely have been enough to elicit a harsh response from the PRC, it was the speech he gave at Cornell before an audience of over four thousand that PRC officials (and even members of the Clinton administration) would cite as the most flagrant provocation.88 The speech, far from being a few reminiscences about Lee’s time at Cornell, was clearly political in content. More than a decade later, numerous sources that I interviewed in the PRC still recalled the exact number of times that he used the name “Republic of China,” namely fourteen. Titled “Always in My Heart,” the speech presented the “Taiwanese experience” of political and economic development as a model for other countries including the PRC and lamented Taiwan’s lack of international recognition.89 In his concluding remarks, Lee stated, “The people of the Republic of China on Taiwan are determined to play a peaceful and constructive role among the family of nations. . . . We say to friends in this country and around the world: We are here to stay.”90 The accusations, name-calling, threats, and expressions of righteous indignation present in the formal statements of PRC officials and the government controlled press during the weeks after Lee’s visit are too numerous to reprint here in full. According to one scholar, within the two months after the Cornell speech, PRC newspapers had published more than four hundred personal attacks on Lee.91 A typical example is the language of an editorial published in the People’s Daily: “At the instigation of the American government, he enacted the farce of ‘alumni diplomacy,’ and moreover played up ‘two Chinas,’ ‘one China, one Taiwan,’ carelessly laying bare his real intentions of ‘faking reunification, actually seeking independence.’ . . . If Lee Teng-hui dares fly in the face of the will of the people, continue down along this dangerous road, then he will bring disgrace and ruin upon himself, become a traitor of the Chinese people for all time.”92 The United States was also the target of countless rhetorical assaults. For instance, one editorial stated, “On May 22, the American government announced permission for Lee Teng-hui to make a ‘private, unofficial’ visit. Toward the American government’s mistaken decision, the Chinese government expressed strong protest, the Chinese people, including Taiwanese compatriots, expressed extreme,

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

59

righteous indignation ( fenkai), and world opinion ceaselessly condemned America’s perfidious behav ior.”93 It continues with a list of indictments: “the American government violated its own word, flagrantly altered the almost 17 year old policy of American administrations forbidding Taiwanese authorities to visit the United States, at bottom still has not abandoned the policy of using Taiwan as an ‘unsinkable aircraft carrier,’ and attempts to play the ‘Taiwan card’ to obstruct China’s development, growth and unification.”94 There was a common pattern to the more than a dozen editorials attacking the United States carried by the People’s Daily in the immediate aftermath of the visa decision: harsh and often emotionally laden language (bianyici), pointed accusations, and warnings of explosive danger.95 PRC officials augmented their rhetoric with further substantive retaliatory measures. On 16 June, the PRC ambassador in Washington, Li Daoyu, was recalled to Beijing “to report.”96 That very same day, the U.S. ambassador ended his term in Beijing and left to take up a new post in Indonesia. The PRC government subsequently declined to give its approval to the appointment of a new U.S. ambassador, citing “complications,” and for the first time since diplomatic relations were established between the United States and PRC, neither country had ambassador-level representation in the other’s capital.97 Several days later, a speaker for the State Department confirmed the PRC had also canceled mid- and lower-level meetings, and expressed hope that PRC officials would respond to a proposal of high-level meetings.98 The press speaker for the PRC Foreign Ministry rejected the offer in no uncertain terms the very next day, explaining, “The United States still maintains its mistaken position and has not yet done anything to mitigate the odious results caused by Lee Teng-hui’s visit. . . . The United States wants to simply rely on a few empty statements or do some kind of posturing, intending to act like this is something big, this is absolutely unacceptable.”99 In other words, on the government-to-government level, the PRC was giving the United States the silent treatment. Moreover, David Shambaugh writes that “China made its displeasure known in a manner calculated to irritate American sensitivities.” As noted above, it began allowing factories producing pirated goods to reopen, rounding up dissidents (including an American citizen), allegedly transferring weapons and technology to Pakistan, and being uncooperative in the sharing of counternarcotics intelligence.100 Even private channels and “old friends of China” hit a wall—according to Suettinger, an unofficial delegation led by Kissinger to China in the beginning of July “was treated to the full display of Beijing’s anger over the Lee visit, including a finger wagging lecture by Li Peng.”101 In a similar manner, the first concrete action taken by the PRC government toward Taiwan was to indefinitely postpone the upcoming round of cross-strait

60

CHAPTER 2

talks. A representative of the PRC’s Taiwan Affairs Office declared that Lee had “wantonly poisoned the atmosphere between the two sides of the strait, damaged cross-strait development, obstructed Chinese unification, evoked the extreme righteous anger (yifen) and the strong condemnation of Chinese both in China and abroad. . . . Under these circumstances, the second Wang-Koo talks cannot proceed as planned.”102 This was, however, only the start—shortly thereafter PRC signals began to include a more belligerent component. During the last week of June, the PLA began its first set of exercises in the Taiwan Strait area, titled “Donghai Number Five.”103 These maneuvers caused the Taiwanese stock market to drop and prompted the Taiwanese government to make an appeal to its citizens not to panic.104 Little more than two weeks later, on 18 July, the PRC’s Xinhua News Agency was “authorized to announce” that “the Chinese People’s Liberation Army will conduct a training for launching a surface-to-surface guided missile into the open sea on the East China Sea. . . . The Chinese government requests the governments of relevant countries and the authorities of relevant regions to advise the vessels and aircraft of their countries and regions against entering the said sea area and airspace during this period.”105 The notice stated that the exercises would occur from 21 to 28 July, and provided the exact coordinates for the target box—a location to the northeast of Taiwan.106 True to its word, starting on the morning of 21 July, the PRC began launching missiles aimed at the preannounced coordinates.107 Concurrently, the official PRC press ran a slew of official denunciations of Lee Teng-hui and the so-called Taiwanese separatists. A special editorial series focused specifically on Lee’s speech at Cornell, bearing titles like “A Confession Encouraging Separatism” and “Lee Teng-hui Is the Wrongdoer Responsible for Damaging Cross-Strait Relations.”108 According to one analyst, these exercises and those to follow were “the most intensive use of nuclear-capable missiles for intimidation by any of the nuclear powers.”109 While none of these missiles struck Taiwan, the Taiwanese currency and stock markets did take significant hits, with the former dropping 139.7 points and the latter losing 8 percent of its value.110 In addition, Taiwanese fishermen reportedly lost millions of dollars in income.111

Explaining PRC Behavior In considering the rationale of the PRC government for its behav ior, there is evidence important officials were indeed angered by the U.S. decision. An officially sanctioned biography of PRC president Jiang Zemin states that “Jiang was personally offended by what he felt was deception on the part of the American president. . . . China had been insulted, and Jiang was irate.”112 Qian Qichen, the PRC foreign minister at the time, also evidently felt betrayed. As he wrote in his mem-

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

61

oirs, “Only a month before, the U.S. Secretary of State had personally made a promise to me, stating that the United States would not allow Lee Teng-Hui to visit. . . . The foreign minister of a super power made a promise, and suddenly goes back on his word, this cannot but make a person feel shocked and furious (qifen).”113 What is more, in the first weeks of June Jiang allegedly had received “more than 100 letters a day” from the PLA and People’s Armed Police ranks demanding an angry reaction.114 But this does not seem to be sufficient to explain why PRC officials acted in the manner that they did. One can feel anger, even act on it, all without making the expression of anger official policy. Actual anger possibly encouraged the course of action that they chose, but something else was also important. Specifically, PRC officials saw themselves in the position of having to send a message to the United States and Taiwan, or in other words, engage in “impression management.”115 As Qian writes in his memoirs, “Facing the diplomatic challenge from the American side, the Chinese government could not but adopt a series of forceful retaliatory measures to erase the illusion that after the United States had done a little posturing the Chinese side would swallow this bitter fruit, to make the United States truly realize the gravity of the problem.”116 Similarly, Jiang stated, “The United States brazenly fabricates ‘two Chinas,’ ‘one China, one Taiwan’ . . . we of course have to respond forcefully.”117 The result was that the PRC government engaged in a coordinated campaign of emotionally laden rhetoric, retaliatory symbolic gestures, and aggressive shows of force. The case that the overt message was one of anger is quite straightforward.118 PRC official statements were replete with words like “indignation” and “anger,” as well as other negative, emotionally laden terms,119 of which the above is but a small sample. This rhetoric was deployed in private as well as public settings; used in leadership statements, government events, and the official press; and repeated at multiple levels. More importantly, there was an implicit logic threaded throughout PRC statements: the United States and Taiwan had violated the norms of the relationship, forcing the PRC to take action; measures were needed on the part of the transgressors to restore the relationship and reaffirm those norms; and further provocations would be “playing with fire,” the consequences of which would be the responsibility of the transgressors. This last element added to the “passionate” flavor of the statements by suggesting that the PRC response was out of its own control. In analyzing substantive actions, it is necessary not only to point out that they were aggressive and punitive, but also to look at how they were timed and coordinated with the PRC’s overt message. Once the Lee visit occurred, the PRC immediately began a process of retaliation, culminating in the missile launches. The

62

CHAPTER 2

PRC did not present its targets a list of measures it would sequentially take should certain demands not be met, as the standard coercion model would expect; rather, the PRC launched a series of punitive actions on short (or in some cases no) notice. A standard coercive approach would suggest that the threat of missile tests or military exercises should be made in advance, with the threat’s realization made dependent on the actions of its target. Instead the PRC made known it would engage in displays of force only after Lee had visited Cornell and, from the PRC perspective, significant damage had already been done.120 Moreover, the announcements of the exercises would appear to have been timed for absolute effect, seeking to shock Taiwan and harm it economically. The extent to which this was coordinated with the rhetorical assault is captured in the phrase “four critiques, six bombs” (si ping liu dan) used to describe the combination of accusatory essays and missiles.121 One could argue that the response was for domestic consumption, but that would not explain the range of retaliatory measures the PRC engaged in that were not necessarily visible to the public—such as canceling meetings with mid- and lower-level U.S. officials or even the alleged proliferation of weapons technology. One could alternatively argue that the top leadership had to present a hard-line image to shore up political support within their own government. It would indeed seem that some actors within the government had suffered damage to their reputations due to the U.S. decision.122 One newspaper article reports Qian relating afterward, “I was assured a visa would not be issued. . . . Imagine what I thought and what was thought of me when the visa was granted.”123 And we need to take into account the possible need for the still relatively new leadership to bolster its credentials with the military. Yet, this is an issue of personal motives for wanting to support a hard-line stance, not an explanation of the particular strategy the PRC leadership collectively saw as necessary to convey such a stance, and it is the latter we are interested in here. The PRC official position coalesced around the consensus that a strong message needed to be sent to the United States and Taiwan that they had crossed the line. The manner by which this message was sent was an official display of anger.

The U.S. Reaction The argument of this chapter is not simply that states overtly project an image of anger, but that this also shapes the perceptions and reactions of its targets. There would appear to be significant evidence that the U.S. side did view the PRC as showing anger. For instance, a simple search of news reports at the time returns literally hundreds of news articles describing the PRC with words such as “an-

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

63

gry” or “furious.”124 Numerous scholars and analysts both during and after the event have also used similar terms.125 More importantly, this perception appears to have been shared by U.S. policymakers. According to Secretary of State Warren Christopher, “Beijing erupted”; he explicitly characterized the PRC reaction as “enraged.”126 Assistant Secretary of State Winston Lord later similarly stated, “the Chinese went ballistic after [Lee’s] speech.”127 Secretary of Defense William Perry wrote that the visit “outraged many in China.”128 Richard Bock, of the American Institute in Taiwan (AIT), also called the PRC reaction “outraged.”129 In the words of Ambassador Stapleton Roy, who was in the PRC at the time, “The Chinese were angry because we had reversed ourselves on an important issue.”130 The concrete response of the United States was to adopt a strategy of moderate conciliation, seeking to repair the relationship by reaffirming the prior norms concerning Taiwan. In July, Christopher gave a public speech in which he reiterated that the United States was not seeking to promote “two Chinas” or “one China, one Taiwan” and restated a U.S. commitment to the three communiqués.131 Shortly thereafter, Christopher met with Qian at the Association of Southeast Asian Nations ministerial meeting and regional forum in Brunei. There he delivered a letter from Clinton that explained that Lee’s visit was purely personal, reaffirmed the “one China” policy, and stated that no change in policy had taken place.132 The letter additionally contained a statement of U.S. policy later known as “Clinton’s three no’s”: no support for Taiwan independence; no support for Taiwan membership in the UN; and no support for “two Chinas” or “one China, one Taiwan.”133 Christopher expressed the U.S. desire to establish a “constructive, equal partnership” with China and offered the possibility of a visit by Jiang to Washington, D.C.134 Although Qian viewed the position of the United States on future visits by Taiwanese leaders as still unresolved, he agreed to allow Undersecretary of State Peter Tarnoff to visit Beijing.135 Tarnoff arrived in Beijing in late August to mixed messages. On the one hand, just days before the PRC had released from custody and deported a human rights activist with American citizenship whom the United States had been working to free.136 On the other hand, a commentary published in the PRC press “couched in angry, polemical terms” stated that U.S.-PRC relations were at their “lowest ebb since the two countries established diplomatic ties.”137 According to Qian, Tarnoff did not just reaffirm that the United States would abide by the three communiqués, he also made the further assurance that all future visits by Taiwanese leaders would be of an unofficial purpose, would avoid any trappings of an official character, would be extremely seldom, and be reviewed on a case-bycase basis.138 Qian states that this “answered and resolved the Chinese side’s

64

CHAPTER 2

most serious concerns.”139 In response, the PRC announced that its ambassador would be returning to the United States and, moreover, that it would accept the new U.S. ambassador.140 Nevertheless, the PRC sought to “milk” the situation for further concessions.141 Over the following two months the PRC continued to unsuccessfully press for a fourth communiqué that would cement a U.S. position against allowing the Taiwanese leadership to visit and furthermore sought a formal, summit-level meeting between Jiang and Clinton.142 While neither of these were forthcoming, the PRC did, however, express its satisfaction that the United States had “understood the gravity and sensitivity of the problem of Taiwanese leaders visiting the United States.”143 So while the PRC was willing to compromise on certain demands, it wanted confirmation of receipt for the message that it would not compromise on the status of Taiwan. Both sides eventually agreed on a “working meeting” between the two leaders when Jiang was in New York to visit the UN.144 On 24 October, Jiang met with Clinton at the Lincoln Center in New York City. In a meeting a week earlier with U.S. commerce secretary Ron Brown, Jiang had stated, “I hope the American side has learned an adequate lesson from the problem of Lee Teng-Hui visiting the United States, will scrupulously abide by the principles of the three communiqués, will keep its promises, and will avoid having such incidents occur in the future.”145 During the meeting, Clinton did indeed reiterate the mantra of abiding by the three communiqués, privately restated his “three no’s”—no support for Taiwanese independence; no support for “two Chinas” or “one China, one Taiwan”; and no support for a Taiwanese seat at the UN—and also repeated the promise that all further visits by Taiwanese leaders would be “unofficial, private, and rare.”146 Following their meeting, the relationship continued to improve. On 14 November, Assistant Secretary of Defense Joseph Nye arrived in Beijing “at the invitation of the Chinese Ministry of National Defense.”147 Nye viewed his trip as one of “relationship repair” and did not make any firm statements about how the United States would respond to further PRC military exercises.148 As noted earlier, Nye stated that “ ‘we don’t know and you don’t know’ exactly how the United States would respond to action against Taiwan.”149 Jiang and U.S. Vice President Albert Gore, during their meeting at an Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation conference in Osaka four days later, were even less confrontational, exchanging platitudes about improving U.S.-PRC relations.150 In fact, after the meeting Jiang was quoted as saying that the relationship was “back on track.”151 The question is how to explain this U.S. response. The decision to allow the Lee visit was, in the words of Assistant Secretary of State Lord, “a public flip flop . . . [an] awkward reversal of policy.”152 According to Robert Suettinger, the director for Asian Affairs on the National Security Council at the time, “There

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

65

was a broad recognition . . . we [the United States] had screwed up, that we needed to take some step that would put the relationship back on a healthier course.”153 As a result, he states, “statements were made, and the letter was written, and the invitations were made, and so forth—as an effort to sort of assuage anger in reaction to what we thought was perhaps a decision that maybe should not have been made.”154 Simply, the United States did not simply see the PRC as angry, they saw themselves as bearing some degree of responsibility for the violation of long-standing norms regarding Taiwan, and therefore took actions to “assuage anger.” These actions on their face were primarily aimed at reaffirming the norms of the relationship, and the PRC—although trying to garner further concessions— was eventually willing to accept those gestures. As Nancy Tucker writes, “that summer of 1995, the Clinton administration sought ways to repair the damage caused by Lee’s actions and Beijing’s anger.”155 What is more, as shall be outlined in greater detail below, the United States had only a muted reaction to PRC military exercises at the time. The reason Suettinger gives is that “looking at this as an opportunity for the PLA to sort of vent its rage, we didn’t really consider those military exercises and tests as anything that was severely over the top.”156 Crucially, the U.S. side did not see these military actions as a set of escalating coercive measures, but rather as a display that would abate—as one would expect from an angry actor. In the words of National Security Advisor Anthony Lake, “it was seen as something that would blow over.”157 In short, a specific logic of interaction was at work. The U.S. side saw the appropriate response to PRC behav ior as moderate conciliatory gestures with the assumption that the episode would eventually subside. Significantly, the United States also implicitly accepted that it needed to take moves to repair a damaged relationship in part due to its own behav ior. This suggests a situation much different from one in which an actor is responding to coercive threats. The perceptions, the reactions, and even the explicit justifications given by actors—such as Suettinger, who was closely involved in the U.S. decision-making process—all fit with a response one would expect to a diplomacy of anger.

PRC-Taiwan Escalation Under other circumstances, the incident may have indeed “blown over.” While the PRC government had not gotten a fourth communiqué or seen other demands met, the United States had made reconciliatory gestures and reaffirmed the norms of the relationship. The problem was, however, that Taiwan was not making similar moves—Lee was not interested in placating the PRC for that meant restricting Taiwan’s international space and autonomy. Lee indeed noted that “Peking is

66

CHAPTER 2

angry.”158 But conciliatory behav ior toward the PRC would not win political points for Lee, who had little gain for his political agenda by placating the PRC leadership.159 The Taiwanese government continued to push for further foreign presidential visits, called for admission to the UN, and engaged in military parades and counterexercises of its own. In response to the missile exercises of July, Lee made two defiant speeches, one defending his speech at Cornell, the other advocating the buildup of Taiwan‘s military forces, claiming that separation was a fact, and further declaring that Taiwan would make every effort to participate in international organizations and activities.160 At the same time, the Taiwanese military engaged in maneuvers and declared that further exercises would occur in August.161 These statements simply elicited more attacks from PRC officials, with the PRC defense minister giving a speech on 31 July titled “We Will Not Promise to Abandon the Use of Force.”162 Having committed itself early on to the image of anger, not responding would indicate that the PRC would “swallow such bitter fruit.” Consequently, the logic of provocation and angry reaction continued to play out between the PRC and Taiwan. Indeed, throughout the month of August, the PRC government persisted in its attacks on Lee Teng-hui and conducted additional military exercises while the United States remained relatively passive. Starting on 3 August, the People’s Daily launched another series of articles condemning Lee and his “separatist” goals.163 A day after the series had concluded, the PRC Ministry of Transportation announced the coordinates for a new round of military exercises using missiles and live artillery to take place starting 15 August and continuing until ten days later.164 Once again, the Taiwanese stock market plummeted in response.165 As the exercises concluded, the People’s Daily published more rhetorical assaults on Lee. One article, for example, in its own words seeking “to help people better understand Lee Teng-hui,” gave a harsh verdict: “Lee Teng-hui has colluded with international, anti-Chinese forces, wrongly judged the situation, thinks that the American dollars in his hand are omnipotent . . . [and] in the end has evoked the unparalleled righteous indignation ( fenkai) of all Chinese [and] encountered the unified voice of condemnation by Chinese here and abroad.”166 Lee’s behav ior, it continues, has “ripped off his own disguising mask, revealed his fiendish character.” The article concluded with the assertion that “sweeping Lee onto the garbage pile of history is the shared responsibility of Chinese on both sides of the strait.”167 The U.S. State Department’s response to these developments was, however, muted, noting only that they do not “contribute to peace and stability in the area.”168 Entering September, the attacks on the Taiwanese leadership in the PRC press continued, alternating between disparaging Lee and denouncing Taiwanese efforts to enter the UN.169 One article, for example, stated of Lee, “This type of de-

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

67

ceiving oneself and others, this self deceptive vain desire makes one’s hair stand on end with anger, [and we] have faith that the absolute majority of clear headed Chinese clearly recognize Lee’s sinister intentions to betray the motherland, split its territory.”170 In October, in response to Taiwan’s review of troops commemorating the founding of the Republic of China, the PRC launched a new series of amphibious and naval exercises in the East China Sea, this time with full press coverage and Jiang presiding.171 In mid-November, a day after Nye had arrived in Beijing, the PRC initiated yet another series of exercises, even larger than those of the previous months. These maneuvers employed between 16,000 and 18,000 personnel, incorporating the army, navy, and air force in a joint simulation of an amphibious invasion.172 As a set of PLA authors wrote, “This amphibious exercise was conducted on Dongshan Island in Fujian Province—the area’s terrain, climate, ocean currents, and other geographic and weather conditions are all similar to Taiwan. . . . [These exercises] displayed that our military has the determination and ability to protect our motherland’s unification, protect national sovereignty and territorial integrity.”173 In case the message was not loud enough, footage was broadcast via satellite so that “everywhere in the world” could see.174 Lee, for his part, called the PRC military exercises “useless and stupid.”175 The timing of these maneuvers was by no means coincidental: Taiwan had legislative elections scheduled for 2 December, so the exercises ran parallel to political campaigns on the island. The elections were a three-way race between Lee’s Kuomintang (KMT), the pro-independence Democratic People’s Party (DPP), and the more conservative, pro-unification New Party (NP), which had broken off from the KMT in 1993.176 The PRC was obviously rooting for the last. In the end, the KMT still won a majority but lost a significant number of seats, while the NP tripled its share of the legislature.177 While the electoral results may not be solely attributable to the PRC’s military pressure, PRC leaders could certainly see some degree of vindication in the losses suffered by Lee’s party.

The United States Becomes Concerned So while U.S.-PRC relations were apparently on the mend toward the end of 1995, PRC behavior toward Taiwan continued within the idiom of anger that had been triggered in June of that year. For every perceived affront on the part of Taiwan, the PRC responded with even more outraged rhetoric and military posturing. Throughout this period, the United States continued refraining from strong criticism, stated that it did not know how it would respond to renewed tension in the strait, and repeatedly expressed its desire to improve U.S.-PRC relations.178 When a U.S. State Department spokesman was asked in January 1996 whether or not this

68

CHAPTER 2

policy would “invite aggression,” he replied, “No, it shouldn’t.”179 As tensions progressed into 1996, however, the U.S. side became more concerned. At the end of January, the PRC government launched a new propaganda blitz, one which involved more emotionally loaded denunciations of those that might seek to “split the motherland.” In one publicized meeting, for example, PRC leaders stated that Lee Teng-Hui had “betrayed the nation’s interest, is producing national separatism, hurting the great cause of the unification of the motherland, has incited the great righteous indignation ( fenkai) of all Chinese people including Taiwanese countrymen, countrymen on both sides of the strait of course will resolutely oppose and assail him.”180 A PLA editorial published at the same time carried a similar message, expressing extreme righteous indignation ( fenkai) directed personally at Lee, and promising to “struggle for the great cause of completing the unification of the motherland.”181 These attacks continued over the following month without abatement, the majority with Lee as their focus. An article published on the 17 February asked, “What Is the Cause of Cross-Strait Tensions?”—its answer of course was Lee.182 Corresponding to the rhetorical onslaught, starting the first week of February, the PLA began to concentrate a massive force of troops and equipment across the strait from Taiwan.183 The U.S. government took notice, and in a meeting in Washington told PRC vice foreign minister Li Zhaoxing that “the United States had a clear interest in protecting peace across the Taiwan Strait,” but also softened the message with an assurance that no further Taiwanese officials would be permitted to visit that year.184 As the military buildup nevertheless continued, the U.S. chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, John Shalikashvili, told the U.S. leadership that “inherent in the escalating discord was an enormous risk of misunderstanding and accident . . . the confrontation could produce a nuclear exchange.”185 As the United States began military contingency planning, U.S. officials also scheduled for PRC vice foreign minister Liu Huaqiu to come to Washington in order to establish a dialogue and convey their concerns.186 A significant factor in all of these calculations was the upcoming Taiwanese presidential election on 23 March. This election would be the first time that Taiwanese had directly elected a president and was therefore representative of a further step toward democratizing the island. The race was divided among four tickets: Lee as the KMT candidate, Peng Ming-min for the DPP, Lin Yang-kang as an independent with NP support, and Chen Li-An, also running as an independent. Peng was largely seen as the pro-independence candidate. The last two were antiindependence candidates and former KMT members who had become disenchanted with both the party and Lee.187 Despite there being a well-populated field of contenders, Lee was at the time expected to win—a fact of which the PRC

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

69

leadership was well aware—and the question was mainly whether or not he would garner an outright majority.188

Tensions Climax On 5 March, just two days before vice foreign minister Liu was scheduled to arrive in Washington and shortly after the official presidential campaign period in Taiwan had begun, the PRC press announced a further round of military exercises.189 This time the exercises were to include missile launches that were targeting zones just outside of two important Taiwanese harbors, Keelung and Kaohsiung, and would splash down significantly closer to Taiwan than the tests in July.190 The announcement included a long list of coordinates specifying exclusion zones and requested that “governments of relevant countries and the authorities of relevant regions” inform their ships and aircraft to stay away.191 At the same, a new wave of anti-independence, anti-Lee commentaries appeared in the official PRC press. As one commentary stated, “Lee Teng-hui once again is resorting to his customary two-faced tricks, plotting to use the cover of ‘democracy’ to conceal his separatism, engage in separatist activities to create ‘two Chinas’ or ‘one China, one Taiwan,’ use deception to get the Taiwanese public’s votes.”192 Accordingly, “the true danger is allowing Lee to continue pursuing ‘Taiwanese independence,’ destroying cross-strait relations.”193 The People’s Congress, which was in session at the time, also became a format for fiery assaults on Taiwanese independence and Lee, with various delegates taking turns to make denunciations.194 In the early hours of 8 March, the PLA’s second artillery division fired three Dongfeng-15 missiles from inside the PRC, with two landing outside the harbor of Kaohsiung and one near Keelung.195 In Taiwan, stocks prices fell and the Taiwanese Central Bank had to intervene to maintain the value of the currency as Taiwanese bought gold and U.S. dollars.196 In Washington, U.S. officials readied for the meeting with Liu, downgrading it from a banquet to a working dinner to show “indignation” and canceling a session with Clinton to “show his anger.”197 The U.S. side had already publicly labeled the decision to conduct the tests “irresponsible,” “destabilizing,” and “reckless” and warned of consequences should something go wrong.198 To these comments the spokesman for the PRC Foreign Ministry had responded that the issue was an “internal affair” and accused the United States of having “repeatedly violated [the] three Sino-US communiqués” and of “encouraging the ‘pro-independence’ forces in Taiwan.”199 On the evening of Liu’s arrival, Secretary of State Christopher, Secretary of Defense Perry, National Security Advisor Lake, and Assistant Secretary of State

70

CHAPTER 2

Lord met with him for dinner. According to Suettinger, who was present, the discussion was “hot,” with Liu giving a “spirited attack on Taiwan and U.S. support for Lee Teng-hui’s ‘Taiwan independence’ aspirations.”200 Perry replied that the exercises were “dangerous, coercive, absolutely unnecessary, and risky” and warned of an American response.201 In response, Liu reportedly “laid out a full menu of Chinese recriminations over the visa issue, over the sale of F-16s to Taiwan, over sanctions, and over American churlishness with regard to providing the technology that China needed for its development.”202 A meeting the day after between Lake and Liu did not provide much more headway on the issue of the exercises, with Liu giving a “harsh” response to Lake’s opening comments, condemning U.S. and Taiwanese actions, and stating that it was “up to the US to improve the bilateral relationship.”203 Nevertheless, they were able to agree to “initiate strategic dialogue” and decided Lake would visit the PRC later that year.204 Following the meeting with Liu, U.S. officials decided a response was necessary. On the one hand, the U.S. officials viewed PRC behav ior as “reckless and provocative.”205 According to Clinton, “China had gone too far.”206 On the other hand, Lord testified before Congress that, “we have not concluded that there is any imminent threat to Taiwan.”207 While there were rumors that the PRC might engage in action against Taiwanese-held offshore islands, intelligence did not indicate anything signaling preparation for a large-scale attack.208 Additionally, as the elections grew closer, the Taiwanese side had also begun making, according to Lord, “a lot of conciliatory statements . . . about reaffirming that the leaders are against independence, that they’re for unification, albeit gradually, et cetera.”209 Consequently, the speaker for the Defense Department announced that “everybody expects that there will be a peaceful [sic]—these are military exercises, which will end when they’re scheduled to end—they will not lead to military action— they’re exercises—and that China and Taiwan will return to their policies of peaceful reunification.”210 Nevertheless, the Clinton administration still had concerns that miscalculations or provocations by either side might result in escalation.211 U.S. officials thus met secretly with Taiwanese representatives “urging Taiwan . . . not to provoke Beijing.”212 As Lord later stated, “We were urging Taiwan to cool it.”213 They also made clear that “this cross-Strait confrontation was in significant measure traceable to the Cornell episode, and . . . that the Administration would not look kindly on another effort by Taiwan to take unilateral action.”214 At the same time, they wanted to prevent the PRC from doing, in the words of Perry, “something stupid” and demonstrate U.S. interest in preserving regional peace and stability.215 The result was that the administration elected to send two full carrier groups, those of the USS Independence and USS Nimitz, into the waters near Taiwan.216 The objective was, according to Christopher, “to calm the situation.”217 The administra-

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

71

tion decided against sending the carriers into the strait, as this would be, in Perry’s words, “unnecessarily provocative.”218 In the U.S. response one again can observe a particular logic—one that saw the PRC behav ior as likely to subside, but still needing precautionary measures to contain the danger of escalation from further provocations. The United States thus sought not only to demonstrate its commitments in the region, but also to deter any further exacerbation of the situation, either through PRC or Taiwanese actions. Concurrently, the U.S. side itself made sure to avoid behaviors that might overly provoke the PRC and actively reiterated that it was “not going to change our policy on One China.”219 All the same, PRC foreign minister Qian responded to the news that the United States would be sending carriers with a list of incriminations, stating, “if there are people who brazenly clamor for the Seventh Fleet to get involved with the problem of cross-strait unification, even suggest ‘protecting Taiwan,’ well that is just preposterous. Maybe they have forgotten that Taiwan is Chinese territory, not an American protectorate. . . . One has to say, during the spring of 1995, the situation in the strait was peaceful, and it was the erroneous decision of the United States, also a ‘careless’ and ‘reckless’ decision, that caused this kind of situation today.”220 The following day, the PRC Navy started live fire exercises in areas in the strait across from Taiwan.221 These exercises were to last a week and included a combination of submarines, destroyers, guided missile ships, fighters, and bombers engaging in naval and air defense warfare.222 On 13 March, the PLA launched yet another Dongfeng-15 missile into the target box northeast of Keelung.223 Although the PRC government declared on 15 March that its missile exercises had officially concluded, it simultaneously announced new, large-scale military maneuvers to take place between 18 and 25 March, exactly overlapping with the week of the Taiwanese presidential election.224 As this latter round of exercises began, the USS Independence maintained its distance in the seas east of Taiwan as the USS Nimitz rushed from the Persian Gulf to arrive in the western Pacific by 23 March. The accusatory and emotionally laden rhetoric against Taiwan, and Lee in particular, also showed no signs of ebbing in the days leading up to the election.225 According to the PRC official press, since taking office Lee had “brazenly engaged in activities to split the motherland.” One article, for example, presented an impressive list of charges: “In order to ingratiate himself with, rope in, and rely on foreign, anti-Chinese forces he abused the Taiwanese people’s hard earned money, not being afraid to spend large amounts to buy an entrance ticket to the United States. In order to achieve the goal of splitting the motherland, Lee Teng-hui has said one thing and meant the other, deceived the Taiwanese people, and used the Taiwanese people’s desires for democracy as a pretext to wantonly engage in

72

CHAPTER 2

activities to split the motherland. . . . Lee Teng-hui has already entirely fallen into the evil morass of national splittism.”226 Despite everything, on 23 March 1996, the Taiwanese presidential election took place as scheduled; Lee won the race with a clear majority. This large majority was arguably a consequence of the PRC eliciting the indignation of the Taiwanese electorate. Nevertheless, the PRC official press gave the results a slightly positive spin, pointing out that the vote for the pro-independence DPP candidate was “surpassed” by the combined percentage of votes given to the anti-independence candidates.227 Indeed, Ross argues that curbing the vote for the more openly proindependence parties was one PRC achievement in this crisis.228 When the PRC government announced the successful completion of its military exercises, it lauded them as demonstrating that “the Chinese armed forces are resolved and able to safeguard the unity of the motherland and defend state sovereignty and territorial integrity.”229 As expected, the tensions did abate following the elections. On 25 March, Lord stated, “China cools anti-Taiwan rhetoric . . . initial comments out of Taiwan indicate a desire to cool things down . . . clearly both sides in the first 48 hours or so have made moderate statements.”230 That day, the U.S. Defense Department also made known that the Independence would be returning to Japan.231 In his subsequent inaugural speech, Lee announced that Taiwan had “has absolutely no need for, and cannot possibly choose, the path of so-called Taiwan independence,” declared that “both sides should pursue eventual national unification,” and stated that he was willing “to undertake a journey of peace to mainland China.”232 He later revealed that in this speech “based on his promise to the United States during the Taiwan Strait Crisis . . . [he was] intentionally showing goodwill to the CCP.”233 In sum, in this round as well, the PRC did not give its targets the option of taking steps that would avert a missile test as one would expect from the standard model of coercion. Instead, they were declared at short notice for maximum effect and accompanied with a message seeped in a rhetoric of anger, vague danger, and denunciations. Some have claimed that the objective of the last round of missile tests was to coerce Taiwanese into not voting for Lee. Certainly, the PRC leadership would have liked to politically damage Lee as much as possible, but it was evident to virtually all involved that Lee would be elected.234 Nevertheless, to have “stood idly by” would have signaled acquiescence—to various audiences, including the Taiwanese people—particularly given the backdrop of the prior year. And the PRC could still hope to reduce support for more openly pro-independence candidates.235 Once the elections were over, however, the PRC display subsided as the space opened for conciliatory gestures. Under U.S. pressure, these were now forthcoming from Lee.

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

73

The Aftereffects Following the crisis, there were no further visas for Taiwanese leaders to make “personal visits” to the United States. Moreover, the Clinton administration later acceded to PRC demands to publicize “Clinton’s three no’s.” On the other hand, the U.S. military began to pay more attention to the PRC as a serious threat, U.S. cooperation with the Taiwanese military increased, and the PRC’s neighbors became more apprehensive.236 Significant from the perspective of this chapter, however, is the effect the crisis had on perceptions. Ambassador Stapleton Roy later stated, “What the Chinese response in 1995 did is it restored understanding in the Clinton administration about the sensitivity of this issue.”237 Lord similarly described the PRC behav ior as sending “a signal about the sensitivity of [the Taiwan] issue.”238 On the PRC side, numerous scholars and analysts have also claimed this crisis played a key role in communicating to the United States the “sensitivity” (minganxing) of the Taiwan issue.239 “Sensitivity” implies something more than simply importance; it suggests a degree of volatility, even emotional precariousness. This description points to the ways in which PRC behav ior helped contribute to framing Taiwan as an emotional issue. For as Andrew Nathan and Robert Ross observe, “China’s interest in Taiwan is often viewed as emotional and nationalistic.”240 This belief that the fate of Taiwan constitutes an emotional issue to the PRC and thus one that is extremely volatile—both for the external actors and the Chinese leadership—is shared by a number of important “China hands” and foreign policy actors. Robert Sutter, a China expert and former U.S. intelligence official, describes Taiwan’s status as “a deeply emotional and nationalistic issue for Chinese leaders and citizens.”241 Similarly, Susan Shirk, the former deputy assistant secretary of state responsible for U.S.-PRC relations, writes that “no matter how reasonable Chinese foreign policy becomes, the Taiwan issue remains an emotional blind spot.”242 Importantly, this view is evident in National Security Advisor Lake’s discussion of the crisis afterward: “I don’t think either Perry or Christopher or I really thought that the Chinese were not going to react. And of course it is always very difficult to tell how much a reaction is real and how much of it is posturing. But certainly in my subsequent talks with the Chinese I was more and more impressed with how visceral their view of Taiwan is as opposed to all other issues. . . . You could just tell from their expressions. You could tell because on almost every issue that I would address with them, they would read their talking points. But on Taiwan, they almost didn’t have to read them and the voice would rise and you could see the emotion in them.”243 Consequently, when asked how he judged PRC intentions regarding Taiwan, Lake answered, “you just remember that they are

74

CHAPTER 2

emotional about this issue. And so let’s not do this purely in games of rational actor models. . . . That is why I think Taiwan is a dangerous issue.”244 Lake would take the lead on U.S. policy toward the PRC following the crisis.245 Lake’s comments reflect something not captured by standard coercive accounts—the ways in which emotions are projected and received within international relations. On the one hand, it is unlikely that PRC officials would be long in their jobs if they engaged in unsanctioned shows of emotion. On the other hand, it is also unlikely that he was deceived by brilliant actors. Rather, as I argue above, what we are observing are the reciprocally enforcing effects of state policy and individual emotional dynamics through endorsement, encouragement, and emotional labor. In this manner, the PRC projected the image that the Taiwan issue was emotional and volatile, and provocations were to be avoided. In fact, the U.S. officials would appear to have been acting with exactly such an image in mind when tensions reignited in 1999. Specifically, in that year Lee Teng-hui initiated a new round of cross-strait conflict by claiming that PRCTaiwan relations were “nation-to-nation, or at least as special state-to-state ties, rather than internal ties within ‘one China.’ ”246 This was no casual remark, but was based on a legal study prepared earlier that year and timed to influence the upcoming round of talks with the mainland.247 The official PRC response soon followed, accusing Lee of “duping” both Taiwanese and world opinion, and warning him that he was “playing with fire.”248 Over the succeeding weeks, PRC officials angrily denounced Lee as a “troublemaker,” “national separatist,” “traitor,” and “reactionary.”249 The PRC then suspended cross-strait exchanges and canceled Association for Relations Across the Taiwan Straits president Wang Daohan’s visit to Taiwan. PRC diplomats spread “tales of PLA outrage and a desire to teach Lee Teng-hui a lesson.”250 On the military front, PRC fighters became more aggressive in the Taiwan Strait and the PLA test-fired a new missile.251 According to Tucker, “Washington, bracing for an explosive reaction from Beijing, sought to make Taiwan accountable and demonstrate US blamelessness to China.”252 Shirk writes, “we worried about a replay of the 1995–96 High Noonstyle confrontation and acted immediately to discourage Beijing from overreacting.”253 Consequently, the U.S. government responded by quickly reaffirming its commitment to the “one China” policy and several days later went on to characterize Lee’s remarks as “unhelpful”—the same language used to describe PRC missile tests in 1995.254 Behind the scenes, it sent AIT chairman Richard Bush to Taiwan to meet with Lee and emphasize U.S. commitment to the “one China” principle; simultaneously, National Security Council senior director Kenneth Lieberthal and Assistant Secretary of State Stanley Roth were dispatched to Beijing to state the same.255 On 18 July, Clinton took the additional measure of telephoning Jiang to restress that the United States stood by its “one China” policy.256 The

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

75

United States then put such pressure on Lee not to make further provocative moves that in 2000 the latter was reportedly referring to Clinton administration representatives as “Beijing’s running dogs.”257 This is not to say that every time the PRC uses the word fenkai (indignation), the United States becomes concerned. For instance, more recently this rhetoric has frequently been used in conjunction with symbolic gestures of diplomatic protest every time the United States authorizes a new set of weapons sales to Taiwan—in which case the U.S. side waits for the episode to blow over and relations continue as usual. But even these less intense displays have had a disrupting effect on the relationship, as they have frequently been matched with a rupture of military-to-military contacts. The important point, however, is that when such signals increase in intensity and are coupled with substantive gestures—such as in 1999 and again in 2002 when Taiwanese president Chen Shui-bian made a statement about their being states on either side of the strait—the United States has moved to quickly defuse the situation. Granted, simple flourishes of rhetoric may in some cases be treated as bluster. But it is the combination of these with substantive gestures that suggests a particular escalation dynamic, one different from standard models of coercion.

Looking at the Crisis as an Episode of Coercion vs. Official Anger Traditional understandings of coercion, as outlined at the beginning of this chapter, are insufficient to explain the events of the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96. PRC behav ior does not fit neatly into any one category of coercive behav ior, but rather seems to demonstrate elements of compellence, deterrence, and punitive action simultaneously. Moreover, the manner in which the PRC communicated its position appears not to match a standard coercive strategy. Finally, the initial response of the United States seems difficult to explain in the context of coercive action. All this points to the possibility that an alternative logic was at work. The argument here has been that there indeed was a simple, coherent logic behind PRC behav ior: the PRC was engaging in the diplomacy of anger. Punitive action, threats of explosive danger, and demands for compensation—all these fit together under the logic of displaying anger.258 They are the products of the push for rectification combined with the danger of further escalation in face of additional provocations. This offers a much more parsimonious explanation than attempts to parse the deterrent, compellent, and punitive coercive elements. Moreover, a diplomacy of anger approach explains the communication strategy adopted by the PRC. As demonstrated repeatedly above, the PRC couched its

76

CHAPTER 2

statements in massive amounts of emotionally laden rhetoric. If this was simply an instance of military coercion, why all the emotional flourish, the accusations and denunciations, the personal attacks on Lee, the numerous small gestures that “expressed displeasure,” or even the diplomatic measures that signaled a downgrading of relations? Most obvious was the repeated use of the emotional term fenkai, or “righteous indignation,” a more formal word in the family of Chinese terms expressing anger ( fennu) that has moral overtones and suggests outrage at a perceived injustice.259 The frequent use of other words such as gongran (brazenly), cubao (crudely), and dasi (wantonly)—all of which carry a clear emotional connotation in Chinese—fits this idiom as well. This is the discourse we would expect as part of a show of anger. Furthermore, the PRC made repeated reference to norms that had been violated and demanded their reinstatement. For the U.S. side, these norms were enshrined in the three communiqués and an understanding that promises were to be kept. For Taiwan, the norm at stake was that of abiding by the principle of “one China,” a principle that had been shared by the governments on both sides of the strait for almost half a century. Indeed, in the months after Lee’s visit was approved, the instances of the People’s Daily mentioning the three communiqués, and the alleged violation thereof, numbered literally in the hundreds; for the principle of “one China,” the amount was even higher.260 The emphasis on particular shared norms instead of simply behaviors is also one for which a coercive approach has little explanation. Again, this discursive strategy is one that matches the logic of state actors engaging in the diplomacy of anger. It fits the model of an actor that views itself as wronged and deserving rectification—both to compensate the damage and reestablish the norms that were violated. If state actors want to exercise coercion, it would be odd for them to hide or embed their message in such a barrage. However, if they want to project the image of an aggrieved and angry actor, the discursive choices outlined above make perfect sense. And while there is evidence that various PRC officials did indeed feel angry, this does not contradict the argument that the diplomacy of anger was a strategic tool. As Andrew Scobell writes, “Since the 1995 actions were more hastily staged and scripted when PLA leaders were most furious, one might expect to hear the most hawkish rhetoric at this time. But the most venomous barrage of threats and condemnations came in the lead up to March 1996, when Beijing and the PLA had months to prepare both for the exercises and coordinate and carefully script the blasts of rhetoric. This suggests the barrage of militant rhetoric was less an emotional diatribe expressing gut feelings and more a sequence of deliberate and well-rehearsed sound bites.”261 The diplomacy of anger is an intentional strategy, and Scobell’s observation reflects this.

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

77

That is not to deny the possibility emotional reactions or other psychological factors—such as the willingness to take risks, as we would expect when actors view themselves in domains of loss262—did not function as individual-level inputs into the choice to display official anger. But these were far from the only inputs, and there was a clear strategy at work here to convey the PRC would not compromise on Taiwan’s status. Importantly—and even overlooked by Scobell’s analysis above—there is a levels-of-analysis issue. Individual anger is often uneven and fleeting. For the PRC to appear to be expressing anger—and not just an isolated outburst by an official here or there—the numerous PRC representatives involved all have to be following the same basic script, and this does not occur spontaneously. PRC officials had multiple reasons for sending a signal to the United States and Taiwan, apart from possible anger over the Clinton administration’s reversal. In their eyes, Lee had been long pushing the envelope with “vacation diplomacy” and other tactics and needed to be reined back. There were numerous frustrations with the Clinton administration as well, including continued pressure on human rights issues, arms sales to Taiwan, and conflicts over arms control. And Jiang and other newer members of the leadership still needed to shore up their credentials vis-à-vis hardliners in the government and military. The issue at stake here is not the exact mix of motivating factors behind the choice to draw a firm line on the issue of Taiwan, but rather the strategy the PRC leadership selected to achieve that goal once it was chosen: it was not simple coercion, but the diplomacy of anger. There are also no puzzles in the initial restrained U.S. response when the episode is viewed as part of the action-reaction chain associated with the diplomacy of anger. The PRC launched an initial diplomatic and military show of anger, and many on the U.S. side—as outlined above—viewed it as such, thus choosing to take a conciliatory approach and allow things to “blow over.” Significantly, Ross himself acknowledges this reasoning, writing that U.S. officials “believed that as the ‘offended party,’ Beijing needed to vent its anger.”263 Once the initial show of anger had subsided and the United States had moved to reassert the norms of the relationship, the PRC side chose to accept reconciliation, even if it had not received all it desired. It had achieved recognition of its red line, and this was primary. But such conciliatory gestures were not forthcoming on the Taiwanese side, and things continued to escalate. Still, the United States sought to avoid further provoking the PRC—in Ross’s words, “aggravate the situation”—and thus did not push back until it was significantly concerned.264 What is more, the theory of the diplomacy of anger provided in this chapter alerts us to further key elements of the crisis that approaches rooted in theories of coercion overlook. One is perceptions of the danger of provocation during

78

CHAPTER 2

displays of anger. At various points in the crisis, the U.S. side was clearly concerned about provoking the PRC. These concerns shaped not only its own actions—not responding strongly to military exercises in 1995, not sending the carriers into the Taiwan Strait in 1996—but also the pressure it put on Taiwan. There was a perception underpinning U.S. behav ior that the PRC was in a period of heightened, thin-skinned sensitivity that could lead to further escalation, one that matches the logic of anger outlined earlier. Interestingly, these perceptions were successfully conveyed even though the PRC government did not in this case seek to “tie its hands” by permitting or encouraging mass public demonstrations. Jessica Weiss has argued that the PRC regime at certain times allows large-scale anti-foreign public protests—uncorking the bottle holding in the genie of popular emotions, so to speak—as a means to signal it cannot back down due to domestic pressure.265 We can only conjecture as to the reasons why such a strategy was absent in this case. Susan Shirk argues the PRC government viewed the possible reciprocal effects of mobilizing the public (and thus further enflaming public emotion) as too volatile, and therefore there were no mass demonstrations during the crisis.266 The lack of protests does point to the differences between the diplomacy of anger and the strategy of mobilizing public emotions. The latter is a strategy to constrain action (and possibly also allow for a release of public tension);267 the former a concerted effort to present a particular image. Another significant element on which theories of coercion are silent is the ways in which state actors can work to constitute particular issues as “sensitive” and emotional. As Alan Wachman observes, “Beijing is depicted—in the way it frequently depicts itself—as frustrated, angry, and less-inclined to compromise with Taiwan because of the various ways political leaders in Taipei have, by their own initiatives, invited the PRC’s wrath.”268 The PRC’s behav ior during the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, when in the words of one scholar, “China’s emotion exploded,” arguably played an important role in promoting this perception.269 Clearly, certain officials within the PRC may have indeed been angry. But without the blessing of the PRC leadership, it is unlikely that their displays of outrage would have gone unsanctioned. As an officially endorsed account of the crisis by a PRC scholar states, “Facing the vehement anger and condemnation (qianglie fennu he qianze) of the Chinese government and people, the American policymakers realized the graveness of the issue.”270 PRC state actors mobilized to collectively project an image of anger and indignation, and the emotional labor of officials at various levels was part of this.

This episode illustrates how the diplomacy of anger can shift interactions outside the realm of traditionally understood political behav ior. The various actions and

THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

79

reactions of its protagonists cannot be explained simply as the standard dance of coercive diplomacy. The PRC show of anger projected the image of an actor in an exceptional state: one that might respond aggressively and violently to further provocations, but that, with the passage of time, would be amenable to reconciliatory gestures. PRC behav ior also constituted the status of Taiwan as sensitive, volatile, and emotionally salient, and thus not subject to negotiation. Finally, the PRC’s emotional diplomacy shaped the strategic responses of its targets, most significantly the initial subdued reaction of the United States. All this was a product of injecting anger into an international political interaction. It involved a sustained team performance of emotional labor on a grand, collective scale, including not just rhetoric and symbolic gestures, but also displays of military force. Nothing here denies that states do not at times engage in traditional forms of coercion. But this is not all they do; the diplomacy of anger is also a tool in their diplomatic toolbox. The diplomacy of anger can serve quite instrumental purposes, but at the same time, its ability to do so depends on the meanings angry behav ior holds for actors within the realm of international politics. It is the special significance attributed to anger within social life that gives the diplomacy of anger its strategic value. The diplomacy of anger, however, is but one strain of emotional diplomacy. In the next chapter, we turn to a strain with a very different logic of interaction, the diplomacy of sympathy.

3 THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

Moscow, Russian Federation: 11 September 2001 Russian president Vladimir Putin was in his office when the call came from his chief of intelligence: the United States had just been attacked. Putin turned on the television, canceled his meetings, and assembled the heads of the Russian security and military agencies.1 His initial response was to call the White House, making him the first international leader to do so. U.S. president George W. Bush was on Air Force One at the time, but he was able to reach National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice. Putin later related the contents of the call: “First, I expressed solidarity with the American people. I was just saying that Russia had itself experienced terrorist strikes, especially after the houses in Moscow were blown up. And I had a very clear idea—perhaps more than anyone else—of how the American people and the American president felt.”2 Putin also notified Rice that although he was aware U.S. forces had been put on alert, Russia was standing down and even canceling previously planned exercises.3 Rice recalls, “I thanked him, and for one brief moment the thought flashed through my head: the Cold War really is over.”4

How do state actors respond when an unexpected calamity befalls a fellow state? The traditional view within international relations would be state actors should operate in an opportunistic manner. Therefore, we should not expect state actors to engage in “other-help” behav ior without first being assured of concrete, reciprocal benefits. In this chapter I argue that while state actors may not neces80

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

81

sarily be altruistic, they do still behave in ways at odds with the standard expectations of how states should pursue their interests. Specifically, I theorize an alternative logic of behav ior in the form of the diplomacy of sympathy. The diplomacy of sympathy is a response to other states having suffered a perceived tragedy. It involves symbolic displays of solidarity and condolence coupled with offers of assistance free from any clear demands for compensation. By enacting the diplomacy of sympathy, state actors convey that they harbor a benign attitude toward the victim. While it is relatively easy to employ the discourse of sympathy, maintaining the perceived sincerity of that image may also require costly displays of substantive support. Conversely, refraining from even “cheap” statements of sympathy in the face of others’ suffering projects an apathetic, even hostile image. In this manner, the choice to engage in the diplomacy of sympathy—as well as the choice of how much to invest in its performance— can involve strategic calculations about the intentions state actors wish to signal to their targets. To probe the utility of theorizing a diplomacy of sympathy, this chapter examines the responses of the Russian Federation (RF) and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) to the 11 September 2001 (9/11) attacks on the United States. On that day terrorists hijacked four jets for the purpose of attacking civilian and government targets within the United States. Two of these collided with and eventually destroyed the World Trade Center towers in New York City; a third was flown into the Pentagon building in Arlington, Virginia; and a fourth crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. In total, 2,839 were reported killed in the attacks, although estimates at the time were almost double that figure.5 In the hours after the attacks, RF and PRC leaders found themselves formulating policy under quite uncertain circumstances. While it was quite apparent that the United States would retaliate against the source of the attacks, what form this would take and the consequences it would have for various members of the international system were far from clear. The question driving the empirical study presented here is how to explain RF and PRC responses. This chapter argues that both the RF and PRC relatively quickly engaged in a strong diplomacy of sympathy, and that this strategy explains accommodating conduct that would be a puzzle given more traditional understandings of state behav ior. There are multiple reasons for selecting RF and PRC responses to 9/11 as the target of this study. Certainly, within international relations, 9/11 is far from the only situation in which we might expect that states would display sympathy. Indeed, there exist numerous examples within international relations of states showing sympathy in response to natural disasters. Pointing out instances of sympathy and support provided by state actors in the aftermath of natural disasters would be relatively easy. But this support—even including the direct costs of

82

CHAPTER 3

aid, medical equipment, or rescue teams—is relatively inexpensive. And such support generally has little to do with the donors’ security calculations. In contrast, the 9/11 attacks were anything but the product of a natural disaster. The attacks constituted an unexpected and unprecedented assault by nonstate actors on the most materially powerful state in the system. Consequently, as Thomas Christensen notes, “the response of the United States was not simply search and rescue at home, but search and destroy abroad”—and, significantly, this was in the RF’s and PRC’s backyards.6 Not only did RF and PRC officials quickly have to take a position on U.S. military action in their region but also on the broader “war on terror.” This included choices about the provision of security cooperation, intelligence, and support for (or at least acquiescence to) military action. Concisely, the 9/11 attacks created a situation that entailed important political and security consequences for the RF and PRC. Correspondingly, the reactions of RF and PRC state actors in this instance involved much higher stakes than standard natural disasters. Moreover, while the relations of the RF and PRC with the United States prior to the 9/11 attacks were not openly hostile, in neither case was there a lack of contentious issues. For RF officials, these included North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) expansion, U.S. plans for a National Missile Defense (NMD) system, U.S. criticism of RF military conduct in Chechnya, and RF relations with Iran.7 In addition, memories in the RF were yet fresh of the NATO military action concerning Kosovo that occurred despite its objections.8 PRC officials were also opposed to U.S. NMD plans and even more resentful of U.S. actions in the former Yugoslavia, during which the PRC embassy had been bombed. Furthermore, the Bush administration at the time appeared more openly supportive of Taiwan than its predecessors and ready to take a combative approach to U.S.-PRC relations. All this was exacerbated in April 2001 by the collision of a U.S. surveillance plane with a PRC fighter, causing a minor crisis. More broadly, PRC officials suspected the United States of trying to encircle it in its pursuit of “hegemonism.”9 Quite simply, there existed issues where both the RF and PRC governments were at odds with the United States or could seek quid pro quos, and willing cooperation was not necessarily a given. Unlike the United Kingdom, for instance, cooperation was not overdetermined by allied status. Therefore, this combination of security concerns, contentious issues, and conceivable trade-offs means that RF and PRC responses to 9/11 are not easy cases for the logic of sympathy behavior presented in this chapter. Engaging in the diplomacy of sympathy in these cases entailed both direct costs and opportunity costs. Added to this combination is the fact that the RF and PRC are relatively strong states. As a result, they were unlikely to be subject to the constraints faced by other states. They were not small states that could easily be coerced or cowed

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

83

into submission; they were regional great powers.10 Both RF and PRC state actors had real choices and the leeway to have decided otherwise. In fact, as will be discussed in greater detail subsequently, if RF and PRC state actors were conforming to traditional notions of statecraft, the combination of factors outlined above should have resulted in their responding very differently than they did. This chapter consists of three parts. In what immediately follows, I discuss how RF and PRC behav ior did not conform to traditional expectations. In the subsequent section, I outline an alternative logic of action, the diplomacy of sympathy. Lastly, I analyze the empirical evidence available concerning RF and PRC responses to 9/11 to probe the relative explanatory power of the diplomacy of sympathy.

Explaining the RF and PRC Responses in Terms of Traditional Statecraft In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, both the RF and PRC not only extended their condolences to the United States, they also provided substantive support in the form of diplomatic backing, intelligence cooperation, and political assistance to facilitate U.S. and NATO entry into Central Asia. All this they did without locking in any substantive benefits in return. The behav ior of these two states is difficult to square with traditional notions of how great powers interact within in international relations. Why would either be so generous? For one, the security relationship between these two states and the United States was not such that one would expect them to welcome an increased U.S. military presence in their region.11 And the war on terror did result in the unprecedented presence of U.S. and other NATO forces on the inner flanks of both Russia and the PRC—not only in Afghanistan itself, but also in the former Soviet republics of Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan.12 Consequently, not a few voices in Russia did object that the U.S. presence represented a new and significant threat to Russian security.13 In U.S. secretary of state Colin Powell’s words, “there were some on the Russian side who were nervous about us fiddling in their backyard.”14 Similarly, from the PRC perspective, U.S. expansion into Central Asia meant that the United States was closer to “encircling” the PRC geographically than ever before. In both states one could observe voices wary of permitting the United States a further toehold in their strategic backyards. Given their political influence and regional presence both could have found ways to complicate a U.S. presence by denying support, by dissuading other actors from providing assistance, conceivably even covertly arming forces that would have caused the United States military to suffer.

84

CHAPTER 3

Yet, in the months following the 9/11 attacks, RF and PRC officials did not simply acquiesce to an unprecedented U.S. military presence on their Central Asian flanks, they actively facilitated it. President Putin vocally supported the cooperation of Central Asian states with U.S. and NATO military forces, and RF officials provided diplomatic, intelligence, and logistical support for the U.S. campaign. As Powell later testified, the RF “played a crucial role in [U.S.] success in Afghanistan by providing intelligence, bolstering the Northern Alliance, and assisting [U.S.] entry into Central Asia in a way that they would have found threatening just a few months ago.”15 PRC officials, for their part, made unprecedented diplomatic and financial gestures to aid the United States in its effort. Although the PRC had abstained on the United States Security Council from authorizing the use of force for the 1991 Gulf War, in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks it voted in favor of providing the United States with the legal right to retaliate. The PRC also surprisingly refrained from raising objections to Japanese military involvement in the Afghanistan campaign. Moreover, the PRC backed Pakistan in its new alignment with the United States, both through diplomacy and financial aid. In fact, when Pakistani president Pervez Musharraf defended alignment with the United States on Pakistani television, he explicitly cited “Chinese leaders” as opposing a “policy of engagement” with the Taliban.16 Certainly, in neither regime was love lost for the Taliban—but the alternatives also had significant implications for their security. A successful U.S. campaign would very likely result in a long-term U.S. and NATO military presence in their backyard; a failed campaign would bring the threat of instability that could spill over into the region, destabilizing neighboring allies. An influx of refugees, expanded Islamic militancy, and increased domestic pressure on the former Soviet republics in Central Asia or Pakistan all were, and at the time of writing remain, possible adverse outcomes of the conflict in Afghanistan for both the RF and PRC. The argument that the absolute material power of the United States cowered them into a position of support falls flat—if this were the case, one would have expected the same level of assistance two years later as the United States moved against Iraq. As noted earlier, both the RF and PRC also had serious issues of contention with the United States, and could have sought to leverage the situation to their advantage by striking hard deals in return for their support. If anything, catastrophic events are situations where the victims are in need of help and thus vulnerable—they therefore present the perfect opportunity to extract everything possible. Even if the RF and PRC were willing to acquiesce to U.S. action against Afghanistan despite its possible risks for their security, they still could have milked the situation for concessions in other areas of interest. Such behav ior would be expected given traditional conceptions of statecraft.17

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

85

Accordingly, we should have seen the RF and PRC at least adopting a bargaining approach, seeking to trade-off cooperation for other advantages and to extract everything possible—yielding only when others proposed policies in line with their own goals or they had received sufficient payoffs. As noted above, RF and PRC officials actively assisted in the U.S. campaign against Afghanistan. The important question is therefore: Were RF and PRC officials able to capitalize on this to obtain benefits for their own interests? The answer would appear to be a mixed bag at best. While there certainly were issues where the RF could have leveraged its support for payoffs, the available evidence suggests that this did not occur. One such issue was the U.S. position on the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty of 1972. The RF was strongly opposed to terminating the treaty and had gone so far as to sponsor a resolution in support of it that subsequently passed in the United Nations (UN) General Assembly in 2000. Indeed, the lone discordant note during the Russian president’s meeting with President Bush in October 2001, shortly after the attacks, was related to U.S. plans for withdrawing from the ABM Treaty, with Putin presenting a willingness to discuss “solutions,” but expressing doubt regarding the U.S. rationale for pursuing NMD.18 Nevertheless, on 13 December Bush announced that despite the repeated overtures by Putin to renegotiate its terms, the U.S. government had chosen to formally notify Russia it was withdrawing from the treaty.19 The Russian government had already been given advance warning during Powell’s visit to Moscow several days earlier, but waited until Bush’s announcement to respond; Putin was succinct in his answer: “this step has not come as a surprise to us. But we do believe it to be a mistake.”20 Beyond this, the Russian government did not launch any major protests, and Putin confidently stated that Russia “has long possessed an effective system to overcome anti-missile defense.”21 All the same, Russia had invested considerable political energy in trying to preserve the treaty—Putin himself would later admit, “To this day I fail to understand this insistence [on withdrawing from the treaty], given our position, which was fairly flexible.”22 Another issue negotiated was cuts in both sides’ nuclear arsenals, which would help the RF in its goal of devoting more funds to its conventional forces.23 During Putin’s November visit to the United States, Bush had proclaimed that the United States would be willing to reduce its nuclear arsenal to between 1,700 and 2,200 warheads.24 Not long after Bush’s announcement, however, U.S. officials began to qualify the offer, explaining that the U.S. government was simply discussing reducing its active stockpile. In other words, the U.S. side was only willing to reduce weapons that were ready for deployment, and it intended to warehouse dismantled weapons instead of destroying them.25 This prompted the Russian defense minister to respond, “Can such a reduction be considered a real

86

CHAPTER 3

one?”26 Still, the RF was unable to get a better deal. In the euphemistic words of Yevgeny Primakov, the former prime minister of Russia, “the terms of the [Strategic Offensive Reductions] treaty were not entirely agreeable to Russia.”27 In the realm of Russian relations with NATO, after 9/11 there was a brief upturn in rhetoric, with some NATO members proposing greater opportunities for Russian participation and Russia becoming involved in the “NATO at 20” forum.28 But Russia was still left outside of NATO military planning and had no vote, let alone the desired veto, on NATO military decisions. More importantly from the Russian perspective, NATO expansion continued apace, and perhaps because of its newfound cooperative attitude, Russian objections remained muted. At the start of 2002, NATO was in the process of growing nearer to Russia’s western borders and the war on terror had resulted in the unprecedented presence of U.S. and also other NATO forces on its southern and eastern flanks—not only in Afghanistan itself, but, as noted above, also in the former Soviet republics of Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan. All this occurred without any concrete, substantive change in RF-NATO relations. Finally and perhaps most significantly, was the issue of the U.S. position on the ongoing conflict in Chechnya. Putin had made a significant effort following 9/11 to link the Russian struggle in Chechnya to the war on terror, saying for example that the 1999 apartment bombs in Russia “bore the same signature” as the attacks on the United States.29 RF conduct in Chechnya had long been a point of contention between the two states, and Putin was clearly moving to reframe the conflict as part of a larger shared struggle. In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, U.S. criticism of the RF government did lessen slightly, as the United States welcomed Russia’s efforts to renew political discussion with the Chechen rebels.30 Within a period of a few months, however, the U.S. government had resumed its pattern of commenting on RF policies in Chechnya and was once again raising the issue of human rights abuses.31 When the State Department released its annual report on human rights in March of 2002, for example, it assessed Russian conduct in Chechnya as “poor,” claiming that “federal security forces demonstrated little respect for human rights.”32 The RF government quickly denounced the report, stating, “There is an impression that the authors of the report just copied old clichés as if nothing has happened in Russia or the United States, as if there were no events of September 11, and the international community did not unite to fight against terrorism. . . . Passages about Chechnya look especially odious against this background.”33 If RF officials had hoped for their U.S. counterparts to look the other way regarding RF behav ior in Chechnya, it is obvious that they were soon disappointed.34 National Security Advisor Rice later wrote that while Putin “moved quickly to associate the attacks on the United States with the terrorism of Chechen fighters . . . we did not fully support that view or

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

87

Russia’s brutal tactics in Chechnya.”35 And the United States did not refrain from continuing to point that out publicly. In short, judging from both the statements of U.S. officials and actual outcomes in terms of U.S. policy, the evidence would appear to suggest that the RF government did not condition its cooperation on reciprocal compensation. That said, nothing here is meant to claim that the RF side was not attempting to further perceived interests by its behav ior. But if it was, it was not doing so via the traditional means of horse-trading and haggling. Substantively, the PRC does not appear to have capitalized on its cooperation for concessions in its main areas of concern either. That is not to say that there were no positive developments for the PRC during the period outlined above— most significantly, the PRC was granted permanent normal trading rights with the United States and became a member of the World Trade Organization (WTO). This, however, was already on track to occur before 11 September, and WTO negotiations actually faced delays as a result of the attacks.36 Conversely, not only were sanctions leveled at Chinese companies for their role in exporting missile technology shortly before 9/11 left in place, but new sanctions were placed on further Chinese firms for their exports to Iran in January 2002.37 As for other issues of interest to the PRC leadership, there was also less change than it might have desired. Regarding Taiwan, little changed in the U.S. position in the direct aftermath of 9/11. Weapons sales, for example, continued apace. In fact, the United States would elicit PRC anger in March of 2002 by inviting Taiwanese defense minister Tang Yiau-ming to attend a “defense summit” in Florida and allowing him to meet with Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz and Assistant Secretary of State James Kelly.38 As a PRC scholar wrote, after 9/11, “on the most crucial issue of Taiwan, one still did not see any signs of the United States and China growing closer . . . the United States sold arms to Taiwan, the U.S.-Taiwan security relationship comprehensively improved, and the level of U.S.-Taiwan political contacts slowly increased.”39 PRC protests against the U.S. withdrawal from the ABM Treaty also were without effect. For the PRC, the consequences of the United States developing a functional ABM defense system in the near future would be much more acute than for Russia. Given the size of its nuclear arsenal, PRC second-strike capability would be significantly vulnerable to such a system should it achieve some degree of competency.40 Nevertheless, as is obvious from the previous section, the United States disregarded PRC objections. And yet, even concerning this issue, official PRC rhetoric was relatively benign; the response of the speaker for the Foreign Ministry was simply to state that the PRC “hopes the United States seriously consider the opinions of the majority of nations.”41 This was a far cry from the language used just days before the 9/11 attacks to denounce the United States

88

CHAPTER 3

for sanctioning PRC firms, when the government had expressed, “strong indignation at and resolute opposition to the United States’s [sic] hegemonic act.”42 Finally, the Bush administration did anything but rush to embrace the PRC depiction of Uighur separatist movements as composed of terrorists. As Rice would later note, “Cooperation was delicate because, as with Chechnya in Russia, the terrorism issue was tangled up with an ethnic conflict—in this case Uighurs.”43 While Powell did acknowledge that the PRC had “their terrorism problems,” in October Bush made explicit the U.S. stance that “the war on terrorism must never be an excuse to persecute minorities.”44 In December, U.S. ambassador Francis Taylor publicly reinforced and elaborated on this position in Beijing, stating that “the United States has not designated or [sic] considers the East Turkestan organization as a terrorist organization. . . . While these people are indeed involved in terrorist activities in Afghanistan . . . the legitimate economic and social issues that confront people in Northwestern China are not necessarily counter-terrorist issues and should be resolved politically.”45 Indeed, it was not until August of 2002, after reports that it had planned an attack on the U.S. embassy in Kyrgyzstan, that the United States eventually listed the East Turkestan Islamic Movement as a terrorist group.46 It is difficult to make the argument that this was traded as a concession to PRC demands in return for assistance in the direct aftermath of 9/11. Sources at the State Department have emphatically stressed that the listing was not part of a quid pro quo and that requests to place certain groups on the terrorist watch-lists were distinctly separated from other areas of cooperation.47 Even if one were skeptical of such assurances, the timing appears rather late for it to be a payoff for cooperation the PRC proffered immediately after 9/11. Given what was happening at the time, the hypothesis of a quid pro quo fits much better with either the goal of eliciting PRC support at the UN vis-à-vis U.S. efforts concerning Iraq or as a reward for increased export controls. All told, by the beginning of 2002, for multiple issues of import to both RF and PRC officials—be it recognition of domestic struggles as involving terrorists, the ABM Treaty, or concerns about other regional issues seen as core interests— the trends were far from ideal. Analyzing the RF, a number of authors have suggested that Putin was simply taking what he could get and avoiding unwinnable political fights. For example, Bobo Lo writes, “it is obvious to all but the most intransigent that Russia was powerless to prevent this [the U.S. presence in Central Asia] in any event; better to package it as part of a strategic partnership against a greater enemy, and this Putin has done brilliantly.”48 Similarly, Michael D. Swaine claims that the PRC benefited from cooperating in the war on terror because it shifted the focus

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

89

of U.S. security concerns away from itself and made the United States less tolerant of “distractions” caused by Taiwan.49 But even according this logic, the question remains: Why did the RF and PRC governments not attach a higher price tag to their cooperation, not seek to lockin specific gains? Granted, the evidence of failure to obtain benefits does not in and of itself prove that the RF and PRC did not desire them. And yet that still raises the questions of why they would offer what they did in return for so little and why they did not push harder for a quid pro quo. Intelligence, acquiescence, and outright assistance all could have been played as valuable bargaining chips to be traded off incrementally, and yet neither RF nor PRC officials appear to have chosen this strategy. On the contrary, they did their best to avoid behaving like there existed a quid pro quo. This was not simply for public show. Powell states, “it was never in the context of we did this for you for 9/11, therefore you’ve got to do this . . . never in the context of you owe this to us.”50 In the words of Putin, the RF position was “Russia is not bargaining, it is cooperating.”51 Lawrence Wilkerson, part of Powell’s Policy Planning Staff at the State Department, similarly writes regarding PRC cooperation that “no pressure of any sort resulted with regard to Taiwan, Tibet, the Uighurs, or any other policy issue.”52 Powell confirms, “I am not aware of any quid-pro-quo between us and the Russians or us and the Chinese.”53 If haggling is the standard fare of international relations, what was different in this case? So herein lies the puzzle. On 10 September 2001, relations between the United States and both the RF and PRC were, at the very least, difficult. However, literally overnight both the RF and PRC switched from oppositional policies to offering cooperation, even to the point of aiding the U.S. military in establishing a presence in their backyards. Moreover, they did so while vehemently denying that their cooperation came without strings attached. They did not suddenly abandon previous concerns and stop caring about their prior interests. Rather, the answer, I argue, lies in understanding the strategy that guided their response: they were engaged in the diplomacy of sympathy.

The Diplomacy of Sympathy Sympathy Sympathy is an emotional reaction to the perceived distress or anguish of others.54 Correspondingly, sympathy often involves a form of empathy or role taking, whereby one feels “for someone else’s misery.”55 Not all individuals or objects that suffer will necessarily elicit sympathy: first, the victim must in some way be

90

CHAPTER 3

significant to the agent feeling sympathy; second, the cause and magnitude of the suffering should not be trivial; and finally, the victim should not be to blame for its situation.56 To parse this out, the victim must first be seen as capable of suffering and similar enough to generate empathy—a stone or a cockroach, for example, would not likely be the object of sympathy.57 Second, sympathy is proportional—minor discomfort is less likely to produce sympathy than sudden, immense suffering. Finally, it is difficult to arouse sympathy when suffering is perceived as deserved or the product of the victim’s own behav ior.58 In contrast, those most warranting sympathy are those who suffer for no fault of their own. The expression of sympathy on the personal level can include shows of distress or displays akin to sadness.59 Sympathy is therefore not simply a cognitive awareness of another’s misfortune; it is an emotional engagement with their plight.60 Sympathy also contains a tendency toward action: “the suffering of the other person is experienced immediately as something to be alleviated.”61 One study of sympathy describes multiple forms of expression: conveying condolences, providing extra tolerance, offering assistance, and similar means of displaying consideration.62 Candace Clark writes that “the sympathizer must coordinate words, gestures, facial expressions, offerings, and perhaps even his or her costume into an internally consistent front . . . [and] align the performance with the recipient’s persona, condition, and mood.”63 Sympathy thus produces a propensity toward a display of calibrated concern and understanding, coupled with the possibility of assistance.64 One author writes, “In a case where A asserts that he sympathizes with B but subsequently, though it is within his power to do so, does nothing aimed at alleviating B’s plight, we should be justified, unless A could produce reasonable grounds for his inaction, in concluding that he was either lying or weak-willed or misusing the word ‘sympathy.’ ”65 The authentic sympathizer must therefore be willing make a sincere effort to assist the victim. In sum, sympathy is a response of “sorrow or concern” to the undeserved suffering of others that generates a tendency to comfort and aid others in their time of distress.66 Others are unlikely to receive sympathy if they are seen as so different as to be impossible to empathize with; as responsible for their own fate; or as being justly punished. Defined loosely, even small children and primates have been documented as displaying degrees of sympathy by exhibiting consoling behav ior to those that appear to be upset.67 But what is being described here is a more complex response that is carefully gauged toward the apparent misery of others and demonstrates a concern for their welfare. It signals that the well-being of others is important and that they are not alone. All this needs to be qualified, however, with the caveat that sympathy generally subsides as the sympathyinducing event recedes in time. Sympathy is not an enduring response—it spikes

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

91

in the initial realization of the other’s plight, but decreases afterward.68 As the precipitating event fades in time, the imperative of continuing to display sympathy also recedes, particularly if the victim no longer appears to be suffering or has not displayed sufficient gratitude. From the discussion above, we should expect expressions of sympathy to demonstrate identification with the emotional state of the suffering party; conversely, a lack of sympathy can signal indifference, that the victim is perceived as deserving its plight, or even that the victim’s situation is seen as a cause for pleasure. Moreover, actions done out of sympathy should occur without the demand for compensation—otherwise, this casts doubts upon the sincerity of the sympathizer as simply being motivated by the desire to assist.

The Diplomacy of Sympathy Transposed onto the level of interstate behav ior, this understanding of sympathy suggests a number of expectations. State actors should display sympathy in response to perceived undeserved suffering or misfortune on the part of their counterparts—for instance, in response to the death of a leader, man-made or natural catastrophes, or victimization by unwarranted aggression. This display can have both expressive and substantive components. On the expressive side, apart from direct use of the term “sympathy” itself, one should expect to see expressions of consolation, statements to the effect that the sympathizing party can empathize with the victim’s loss, and offers of support. These statements should be conveyed in a solemn tone and accompanied by a somber emotional demeanor on the part of the individuals charged with their delivery. Termed differently, for state actors tasked with dramatic dominance, this entails the emotional labor of appearing to empathize with and feel for the target’s plight. Sympathetic displays can take the form of, but are not limited to, official statements, communication between leaders, and behav ior during official visits. Additional symbolic gestures include actions such as observing minutes of silence, laying wreaths, or lowering flags to half-mast in solidarity. Those tasked with these responses may feel actual sympathy; then again, they may not. What is important for the state-level display is that it appears sincere, both in terms of individual performance as well as across actors that represent the state. On the substantive side are actions that aim to provide aid or assistance to the victim in dealing with its plight. For state actors, this can range from the provision of personnel or materiel for humanitarian purposes to greater support for the victim within international institutions and settings. Granted, some provisions of support—such as sending rescue teams—are relatively inexpensive and thus more likely to fall under the category of expressive gestures. In other cases,

92

CHAPTER 3

however, depending on the circumstances support may require a more significant contribution, whereby state actors may be forced to “put their money where their mouth is.” As noted above, providing extra tolerance can also be an expression of sympathy in terms of allowing a victim greater leeway for behav ior than would be proffered under normal circumstances—state actors may therefore tacitly condone behav ior that under other circumstances would raise objections. All these actions, to conform with an image of sympathy, must appear to be offered without expectations of a quid pro quo. All the same, under many or even most circumstances, displays of sympathy may be relatively costless. For example, the cost of showing sympathy in response to the death of a leader may be no more than the cost of travel to the funeral and flowers. But that does not mean state actors can dispense with such gestures. Here I would theorize an interesting logic of costless signals to be at work. If showing sympathy is a relatively inexpensive way to convey benevolent intentions and state actors nevertheless choose to refrain from such behavior, this can be a significant sign of animosity. For why else would state actors abstain from a costless sympathy display if their intentions were truly benign? Consequently, such displays are arguably not superfluous. Alternatively, state actors whose relations with the target were previously hostile (or at the least questionable) may seek to use a tragic opportunity to send a signal of benign intentions through engaging in the diplomacy of sympathy. If the state in question previously has been seen as a rival, successful signaling would offer the chance of rapprochement and reduce diplomatic and military pressure. This can work directly, by changing the perceptions of target policymakers, or indirectly, by lessening antagonism within the general populace of the target state. The diplomacy of sympathy may therefore be a means for state actors to project images at opportune moments that further their strategic interests. Then again, things may not always be so straightforward. In situations where the display of sympathy may entail costly substantive gestures to maintain the appearance of sincerity, state actors face a dilemma. On the one hand, should they seek to project a strong image of sympathy, they may become rhetorically entrapped in substantive commitments to the victim they would prefer to avoid. Backing out or seeking reciprocal trade-offs after such a strong initial display, however, would reveal the expressions of sympathy to be a hollow show and render them without effect, or conceivably even elicit a backlash. Moreover, there is no guarantee that even apparently sincere expressive displays of sympathy backed with strong substantive gestures will have the desired effect of reshaping the target’s perception of the sender. Nothing requires the target to respond graciously. The diplomacy of sympathy has a relatively one-sided interactive dynamic. Sympathetic gestures are those that are made without stipu-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

93

lation of reciprocal payoff. The sender wagers that the target will respond positively, and that this will result in a change in perceptions and an improvement in relations. But of the target is required nothing. Granted, while a positive acknowledgment from the target may increase the likelihood of further substantive gestures, the logic of sympathy dictates that the target is not obliged to respond in kind. On the other hand, however, while more reserved displays would limit the possibility of “rhetorical entrapment,” they may appear shallow and thus have little positive effect on the relationship. Such restraint may result in missing the chance to change how the target state perceives the sender, or even work to entrench existing negative patterns. In short, the diplomacy of sympathy can be a gamble. Stronger shows of sympathy promise higher possible payoffs, but risk entrapment. Weaker shows of sympathy allow state actors to avoid commitments, but may entail lost opportunities.

Empirical Investigations This basic question motivating this section is how to explain the responses of RF and PRC state actors to 9/11. I argue that both were pursuing strong diplomacy of sympathy. The primary objects of analysis are the choices and behav ior of RF and PRC officials from the day of the attacks until January 2002. The main reason for limiting the scope of investigation to this period—apart from the fact that the Taliban was deposed by the latter date—is that on 29 January 2002, U.S. president George W. Bush labeled Iraq, Iran, and North Korea the “Axis of Evil” in his State of the Union address. Bush’s speech introduced an entirely new dynamic into international perceptions of U.S. goals, causing even close allies to display reservations. U.S. ambitions beyond Afghanistan are outside of the purview of this chapter.69 In examining RF and PRC behav ior, this section gives analytical preference to the statements and gestures of high-level leaders and diplomatic representatives (as opposed to civil society actors), as these were officially responsible for orchestrating and shaping the image their respective states projected abroad—or in the terms provided in chapter 1, had directive and dramatic dominance. To explore whether or not state actors were engaging in the expressive and substantive gestures that correspond to the diplomacy of sympathy, I have surveyed available wire reports, press releases, transcripts, diplomatic records, and secondary literature. Where possible I have also conducted interviews and drawn upon biographical accounts in an attempt to access the rhetoric used and substantive gestures offered in closed settings. Unfortunately, because the full content of behind-door

94

CHAPTER 3

meetings during this period is not yet open to scholars, this chapter is constrained by the information available at the time of its writing. There is nevertheless considerable evidence that RF and PRC officials were seeking to comprehensively project an image of sympathy, and at significant junctures this is reflected in their expressive gestures and substantive actions.

The RF Response As noted at the outset of this chapter, Russian president Vladimir Putin’s first reaction to the 9/11 attacks was to call the White House and express his sympathy and support. From that point on, the Russian government engaged in what might almost be termed a “sympathy assault.” Immediately after his call with National Security Advisor Rice, Putin additionally drafted a telegram to the U.S. president, writing, Dear George, I am deeply shocked by reports about tragic events that took place in the US today. A series of barbarous terrorist acts directed against innocent people fills us with resentment and indignation. Please convey our most sincere sympathy to the relatives of this tragedy’s victims, as well as to all who suffered, and to the entire American people. We understand your grief and your pain only too well. The Russians have experienced the fear of terror themselves. There is no doubt that such inhuman actions should not go unpunished. The entire international community should rally together in the struggle against terrorism.70 He then reinforced these same themes that very evening, just hours after the attacks, during a special address on Russian television, emphasizing Russian sympathy for the U.S. experience and calling upon the international community to unite against terrorism. In particular, he stated, “First of all, I express sincere and profound condolences to all the victims and the families of the dead.” He continued, “Russia knows at firsthand what terrorism is. So, we understand as well as anyone the feelings of the American people. Addressing the people of the United States on behalf of Russia I would like to say that we are with you, we entirely and fully share and experience your pain. We support you.”71 Other high-ranking RF officials quickly echoed these sentiments. Russian Security Council chairman Vladimir Rushailo called Rice to convey his condolences and discuss possible Russian-U.S. security measures. Russian defense minister Sergey Ivanov prematurely ended a trip to the Caucasus, publicly expressed his sympathy, and offered assistance from his ministry.72 He spoke with U.S. secre-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

95

tary of defense Donald Rumsfeld by phone, and according to the latter, “He pledged Russia’s cooperation.”73 The chairman of the State Duma Foreign Affairs Committee publicly announced, “This is a terrible tragedy. . . . I send my heartfelt condolences to all the injured and to the families of those who died.”74 Russian ambassador Yuri Ushakov published an open letter in the Washington Post which stated, “I would like to share the overwhelming grief and compassion every Russian feels these days for the people of the United States.” He also outlined the various ways in which the Russian government and people had displayed sympathy and proclaimed Russia’s readiness to be of assistance, noting that “we have offered to provide our resources, including special services assets, to identify the perpetrators.”75 On 12 September, Putin was twice on the phone with Bush.76 According to White House spokesman Ari Fleischer, Bush first thanked Putin for his expression of condolences.77 Alexei Gromov, Putin’s press secretary, stated that the main theme of their remaining conversation was “the need for Russia and the US to be closer to each other.”78 The RF government had already taken the significant gesture of canceling its military exercises and standing down its forces after the attacks. Now, it began to add other substantive offers of assistance to its declarations of sympathy. Defense Minister Ivanov called Rice and Rumsfeld, not only to express condolences but also to propose to supply them with any Russian intelligence related to the terrorists.79 A spokesman for the Federal Security Service revealed that the Russian intelligence organization was in contact with U.S. intelligence services and publicly suggested that Osama bin Laden might be responsible.80 Apart from the repeated statements on the part of Russian policymakers, the RF also made symbolic gestures of support and solidarity. On 12 September, Putin declared that Russian emergency services had been “put on alert and can fly to the site of the disaster at any moment to join in the rescue work.”81 A separate press report announced that the Far Eastern Regional Center of Russia’s Ministry for Emergencies had prepared “20 rescuers of international class” to be sent to New York.82 The symbolic gestures of sympathy continued over the following days. On 13 September, as per decree, flags across Russia were lowered to half-mast and the government observed a minute of silence. The Russian Cabinet of Ministers suspended their meeting at this time, Russian television and radio broadcasts were paused, and “hundreds” assembled outside the U.S. embassy.83 Ordinary Russian citizens expressed their sympathy, leaving flowers, icons, and notes in front of the U.S. embassy.84 In the words of Prime Minister Mikhail Kasyanov, the RF was displaying “a sign of mourning in connection with the tragic consequences of the acts of terrorism in the United States of America.”85

96

CHAPTER 3

RF officials also sought to express sympathy within multilateral forums, both symbolically and substantially. In New York, the RF representation at the UN helped to pass resolutions before the Security Council and General Assembly condemning the attacks and expressing sympathy. Security Council Resolution 1368 also labeled the attacks “a threat to international peace and security” and recognized “the inherent right of individual or collective self-defense,” thus providing the United States with the legal basis for an armed response.86 Meanwhile, in Brussels, an extraordinary session of the NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council released a statement describing their “deepest sympathies,” and declaring that NATO and Russia “are united in their resolve not to let those responsible for such an inhuman act to go unpunished.”87 Subsequently, in Almaty, Kazakhstan, at the Shanghai Cooperation Organization meeting on 14 September, Prime Minister Kasyanov also proposed that the organization condemn the 9/11 attacks.88 Consequently, member states declared that they “condole with the American people and sympathise with the victims” and, furthermore, desired to coordinate their efforts to combat terrorism.89 The RF continued to back its symbolic gestures with substantive ones. Behind closed doors, RF officials began to discuss with the United States the level of cooperation they would provide for strikes against Afghanistan. On 17 September, U.S. undersecretary of state John Bolton arrived in Moscow—originally he had been scheduled to meet Russian officials on 12 September to discuss “strategic stability,” but the talks had been delayed and priorities had changed.90 Two days later, Undersecretary of State Richard Armitage arrived in Moscow to discuss U.S. plans with Russian first deputy foreign minister Vyacheslav Trubnikov under the auspices of the Russian-U.S. Working Group on Afghanistan.91 During their meeting, the U.S. side provided a comprehensive statement of its intentions and available intelligence. The Russian side appeared unprepared for the degree of sharing displayed by the United States, but after internal consultations agreed to a high-level of cooperation and subsequently dispatched an intelligence team to provide information on Afghanistan.92 Just hours after the Working Group had adjourned in Moscow, U.S. secretary of state Colin Powell met with Russian foreign minister Igor Ivanov in Washington, D.C., and the latter again conveyed a message of Russian sympathy.93 On 22 September, Putin held a six-hour marathon session with the “power ministries” in his government to discuss the cooperation the RF would additionally provide.94 That same day, Bush again spoke by phone with Putin.95 While the RF would not send troops into Afghanistan, he said, it was willing to provide overflight rights for humanitarian purposes, offered search and rescue for American pilots in northern Afghanistan, and would not object to a nonpermanent U.S. basing presence in the former Soviet republics of Central Asia.96 What is more, ac-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

97

cording to Bush, “he even ordered Russian generals to brief their American counterparts on their experience during their Afghanistan invasion in the 1980s.”97 Bush later related, “I suspected he would be worried about Russia being encircled. . . . It was an amazing conversation. I told Vladimir I appreciated his willingness to move beyond the suspicions of the past.”98 The very next day, Putin was on the phone with the leaders of five Central Asian states bordering or near Afghanistan.99 On 24 September, Putin appeared on Russian television to announce that the Russian government would, in conjunction with a campaign against the Taliban, be providing intelligence, access to its airspace for humanitarian flights, and search and rescue services.100 In addition, it had agreed to allow its “allies in Central Asia” to share their airfields and would be providing the Afghani resistance forces with weapons.101 While the RF government may not have been able to fully prevent U.S. entry into Central Asia, given the fact that the United States was already negotiating directly with the Central Asian republics, this public declaration nevertheless displayed a marked change from earlier statements made by other officials in the RF.102 Soon U.S. troops would be operating out of the former Soviet republics of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan.103 As the United States moved against Afghanistan, the RF remained true to its declarations of assistance and solidarity. On the evening of 7 October, Bush called to inform Putin that the United States would be commencing hostilities in Afghanistan.104 That same evening, the Russian Foreign Ministry released a statement in support of the action, and the next day Putin also voiced his approval, declaring that he “had no doubt” the United States would do its best to limit civilian casualties.105 The RF government had that week already begun humanitarian deliveries to northern Afghanistan, and with the initiation of the U.S. bombing campaign, it opened three corridors for U.S. transport flights as well.106 In the days following, press reports even told of Russian military personnel advising Northern Alliance troops in Afghanistan, although this was vehemently denied by the Ministry of Defense.107 The RF did, however, supply provisions to the Northern Alliance. Rice tells of one incident when Bush instructed her to contact the RF side to make sure the Northern Alliance would be provided for; her Russian counterpart assured her that they were doing their best, although they were having trouble finding sufficient donkeys to use for transport.108 On the U.S. side, acknowledgment of RF support was closely linked to expressions of gratitude for initial RF displays of sympathy. When Bush met Putin later that month while attending the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit at Shanghai, Bush publicly thanked Putin for being the first leader after the terrorist attacks to have “extended his sympathy . . . extended his support” and for canceling Russian military exercises at the time.109 One month later, Bush and

98

CHAPTER 3

Putin again came together when the latter visited the United States, traveling first to Washington, D.C., later to Texas, and finally to New York. Putin’s time in the United States was rich with statements of solidarity and gestures of sympathy. Bush repeatedly thanked Putin for being the first to call on 11 September. For his part, Putin not only made further pledges of continued cooperation regarding Afghanistan, he also paid homage to those killed in the 9/11 attacks, viewing the ruins of the World Trade Center and attending a commemoration service at New York’s St. Nicholas Cathedral.110 This support continued as events in Afghanistan rapidly developed. Kabul had already fallen by the time of the Bush-Putin summit, and the Northern Alliance was continuing its push south. To the reported “delight” of the Bush administration, Russia had moved troops to the Tajikistan-Afghanistan border to intercept fleeing Taliban forces.111 On 26 November, twelve RF military transports landed in Kabul.112 Initially there were fears that a RF presence in Kabul might signal an attempt to influence the shape of the post-Taliban government in Afghanistan.113 RF officials, however, swiftly announced that they supported the Afghani opposition talks in Bonn, and in the following month did indeed officially accept the Bonn outcome and even voted to endorse it at the UN Security Council.114 On 22 December, the Russian special envoy to Afghanistan was in attendance when Hamid Karzai was inaugurated.115 One month later, at the Tokyo aid conference, a Russian representative joined numerous other countries in pledging assistance to the new government, offered in the form of mine-clearing services and infrastructure improvement.116

Explaining RF Behavior The evidence given in the account above conforms to what we would expect from state actors seeking to expressively and substantively project an image of sympathy. The argument that RF officials engaged in expressive behav ior that corresponds with the diplomacy of sympathy is relatively straightforward. Shortly after the 9/11 attacks, RF officials launched a veritable “sympathy assault” on the United States. Most prominent in this endeavor was Putin, who in his efforts to display sympathy and condolences phoned, sent telegrams, appeared on television, and later visited the sites of the attacks. Putin actively performed the emotional labor of showing sympathy in ways that were very public and visible. Given his dramatic dominance, this was not simply as an individual, but as a head of state. Primakov writes that Putin’s actions “expressed Russia’s sympathy for the suffering of American citizens.”117 Putin, however, was far from alone. Other Russian officials also made repeated statements of sympathy and engaged in the symbolic actions to match. This be-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

99

hav ior does not appear to have been simply for public show; it was also exhibited in discussions with U.S. officials. Rumsfeld recalls that Sergey Ivanov “sounded sad as we discussed the casualties.”118 Lawrence Wilkerson of the State Department similarly writes, “Putin and his ministers, particularly Igor Ivanov, were genuinely empathetic.”119 The RF did attempt to work within this idiom to link its own conflict in Chechnya to the war on terror, but it did not force the issue. Even the larger Russian public was enlisted in efforts to demonstrate sympathy. The minute of silence declared by the RF government became a point around which to marshal popular displays and sentiments—such as the gathering outside the U.S. embassy—that then were reported by prominent news sources as evidence of widespread Russian feelings. It is quite possible that Russian policymakers felt the emotions that they professed. An aide to Putin, Sergey Yastrzhembsky, when asked about the response of the Russian leadership, replied that, “the first reaction was, quite naturally, that of deep condolences. . . . This is because a normal person can feel no other emotion than this after what happened in the US cities.”120 What is significant for this account, however, is the extent to which RF officials collectively and publicly sought to project this image, and even to organize the domestic citizenry behind it. It is the overt, concerted, officially orchestrated element of this expression that places it within the category of official emotion. In terms of substantive gestures, the RF appears to have provided relatively significant support.121 As Powell testified before the House Committee on International Relations in February of 2002, the Russian government “played a crucial role in [U.S.] success in Afghanistan by providing intelligence, bolstering the Northern Alliance, and assisting [U.S.] entry into Central Asia in a way that they would have found threatening just a few months ago.”122 The RF additionally assisted by “opening Russian airspace to relief missions, taking part in searchand-rescue operations, rallying central Asian countries to the American cause, and arming anti-Taliban forces inside Afghanistan.”123 This assistance came with political costs; there was strong resistance within the RF to acquiescing to a U.S. military presence in Central Asia, let alone aiding it.124 Nevertheless, the provision of support is in itself insufficient to qualify such behaviors as substantive gestures of sympathy. To project the image of sympathy, the state actors in question have to refrain from explicitly seeking gain from the suffering of others. Assistance needs to be offered without explicit demands for trade-offs. While there certainly were issues where the RF could have leveraged its support for payoffs, the available evidence concerning issues such as the ABM Treaty, nuclear force reductions, NATO expansion, or the continuing U.S. position on the civil conflict in Chechnya would all appear to suggest that this did not occur. Judging both the statements of U.S. officials and actual outcomes in

100

CHAPTER 3

terms of U.S. policy, the evidence strongly suggests that the RF government did not condition its cooperation on reciprocal compensation. According to Powell, during their talks the Russians were “very forthcoming . . . they want to be helpful, and they didn’t put any specific requests or bills or links on the table.”125 As one scholar of Russian foreign policy observed, “Putin did not ask for a payoff. . . . Unlike previous Soviet and Russian rulers, who engaged in horse-trading over every compromise they struck with the West, there was no request for a quid-pro-quo.”126 Indeed, it is clear that the RF actively sought to avoid projecting the image of haggling. Putin himself publicly stated that “Russia is not bargaining, it is cooperating.”127 That said, nothing here is meant to claim that the RF side was not attempting to further perceived interests by its behav ior. The 9/11 attacks offered an apparent opportunity for RF officials to “reboot” their relations with the United States and, moreover, conceivably reframe the conflict in Chechnya as belonging to a larger shared struggle. By projecting a strong image of sympathy, the RF officials could paint themselves as standing on the same side, even as victims of the same affliction. Moreover, they could conceivably hope to benefit from U.S. gratitude in terms of more favorable policies. But by engaging in the diplomacy of sympathy the RF government committed itself to eschewing traditional politics that might have locked in benefits before cooperation was rendered. The substantive gestures required to foster an image of sympathy with any degree of sincerity also required that RF officials refrain from haggling or strongly criticizing their target. RF officials had to appear ready and willing to cooperate without attaching strings. This explains why RF behav ior did not conform to traditional expectations.

The PRC Response Similar to the RF, the first response of PRC policymakers was also to declare their sympathy and condolences. Due to a twelve-hour time difference, it was already evening in Beijing when the first plane collided with the North Tower of the World Trade Center. According to Wu Jianmin, formerly of the PRC Foreign Service, PRC president Jiang Zemin learned of the attacks from television and promptly summoned a meeting of the standing committee of the Politburo.128 Jiang quickly sent off a message expressing condolences to the White House just before midnight in Beijing, so that it would still be dated 11 September.129 The message itself reads as follows: Dear Mr President, I am shocked to learn that some parts of New York and Washington D.C. were disastrously attacked, which caused severe causalities. On

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

101

behalf of the Chinese government and people, I would like to express sincere sympathy to you, and through you, to the US government and people and condolences to the family members of the victims. The Chinese government consistently condemns and opposes all manner of terrorist violence. Jiang Zemin President of the People’s Republic of China 11 September, 2001 in Beijing130 According to PRC vice premier Qian Qichen, the PRC leadership did not sleep that night, but instead stayed up “watching the television broadcasts and deliberating the development of the situation.”131 Jiang’s message of sympathy was soon made the public face of the PRC response. Shortly after Jiang’s telegram was sent, the PRC Foreign Ministry released its contents to the press and made a statement expressing “shock” at the attacks, condemning terrorism, and conveying Jiang’s “deep concern” about the status and safety of Chinese citizens and “compatriots” in the United States.132 That same evening, PRC foreign minister Tang Jiaxuan also sent a similar message to Powell.133 Interestingly, there would appear to have been a degree of initial confusion, or at the very least caution, regarding how to portray the attacks domestically—official news outlets did not begin providing full coverage until hours after the events had already occurred.134 By 12 September, however, the official PRC media was reporting details of the attacks and other PRC officials and ministries began adding their voices to express sympathy. PRC premier Zhu Rongji, who was in Kazakhstan at the time, stated that China “has always been against terrorism” and that the Chinese “share the pain of the American people and take it as their own.”135 The Ministry of Foreign Trade and Economic Cooperation sent out messages of condolence stating that the PRC government denounces terrorism and “will offer all possible assistance required.”136 Zhu Bangzao, the speaker of the Foreign Ministry, announced that the PRC government was concerned about the plight of U.S. citizens in the PRC and “expressed sincere condolences and wanted to help them deal with problems and difficulties they may encounter.”137 The Chinese National Tourism Administration made a similar statement and additionally announced that it would “provide all necessary services to American tourists stranded in China.”138 In New York, the Chinese representative on the UN Security Council, Wang Yingfan, expressed the Chinese government’s “deep shock and strong condemnation” and that stated that it had conveyed “its profound sympathy to the United States and deep condolences to the victims” in messages to Bush and Powell.139 The Security Council resolution “expressing deepest sympathy” and “recognizing the inherent right of individual or collective self-defence” passed that day with

102

CHAPTER 3

PRC support.140 As two Chinese scholars noted, “this was the first time when a Security Council vote involved the use of force that China cast an affirming vote.”141 On the evening of 12 September, Jiang spoke with Bush by phone. According to the PRC Foreign Ministry, Bush began by thanking Jiang for his telegram and describing terrorism as a threat to world peace.142 Jiang reportedly “on behalf of the Chinese government and people . . . extended deep condolences to the American government, people, to the families of the victims, and heartfelt condolences to the victims.”143 Moreover, he stated that “we [the Chinese government] are willing to provide to the United States all needed support and cooperation and assistance.”144 The following day, Vice Premier Qian spoke with Powell by telephone and conveyed a similar message, expressing “profound condolences” and reaffirming Chinese opposition to terrorism.145 When the Shanghai Cooperation Organization met in Kazakhstan two days later, the PRC joined the RF and other organization members in declaring its sympathy and offering to combine efforts to combat terrorism.146 In Beijing, however, the PRC government had begun to sound a slightly cautionary note. For example, Vice Foreign Minister Wang Guangya noted that if NATO were to use force outside of Europe, there would be a need for “consultation.”147 Nevertheless, he stated that “our attitude towards international cooperation against terrorism is positive . . . it all depends on the final formula.”148 All things considered, this was a significant contrast to the vehement opposition the PRC displayed toward NATO involvement in Yugoslavia just two years earlier.149 On the evening of 19 September, PRC foreign minister Tang Jiaxuan landed in Washington, D.C.150 That next day, the first U.S. official he met with was Vice President Richard Cheney, to whom he, in his own words, conveyed “the message of sympathy, condolences and also the anger that the leadership, the Chinese government and Chinese people have been feeling about the terrorist attack.”151 Later that day, when speaking to the U.S.-China Business Council, he further elaborated on this theme, stating, “the Chinese Government and people wish to share your grief. . . . I felt such pain in my heart when I saw the familiar World Trade Towers collapse and claim so many lives, and great indignation at these terrorist crimes.”152 The following day, Tang met with Powell, Rice, and Bush. At the same time, the PRC government moved to dampen domestic expression that deviated from its message. While various PRC officials may have professed that the Chinese public sympathized with the victims of the 9/11 attacks, the postings of Chinese citizens on the Internet immediately after the attacks conveyed a different image, with some actually applauding the destruction of the World Trade Center towers as the United States getting its just desserts.153 According to the Washington Post, by the evening of 12 September, the PRC Ministry of

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

103

Propaganda had distributed an “urgent notice” to Internet service providers and the wider media to purge messages that “gloated about the attack or seemed to insult the United States.”154 Confronting questions about the behavior of PRC citizens, the speaker for the PRC Foreign Ministry found himself having to reassert explicitly that the official position was one of sympathy and condemnation, stating, “The remarks by some individuals on China’s Internet obviously do not represent the attitude of the Chinese Government. The attitude of the Chinese Government is reflected in the telegram from President Jiang to President Bush. . . . What represent [sic] the attitude of the Chinese Government and people? What represent [sic] the views of some individuals? . . . There should not be any misinterpretations.”155 PRC officials also had to deal with an incident involving Chinese journalists who had laughed and cheered the collapse of the World Trade Center when they saw it on television while visiting the State Department.156 The State Department immediately curtailed their visit, euphemistically citing reasons of security, but the story leaked to the press.157 The PRC representative denied the story, stating, “I don’t believe [reports] they were expelled are true. They were not expelled.”158 In the subsequent days, the PRC side did not simply continue to express sympathy, it moved to substantiate its statements with supportive actions, working to aid the United States with its goals in the region. On 17 September, the PRC sent Vice Foreign Minister Wang Yi to Pakistan.159 The purpose was to “promote the cooperation of Pakistan with the United States.”160 As noted at the start of this chapter, when Pakistan’s President Musharraf appeared on Pakistani television to defend his decision to align with the United States, he explicitly cited “Chinese leaders” as opposing a “policy of engagement” with the Taliban.161 On 20 September, in a press conference after his meeting with PRC foreign minister Tang, Powell announced that the PRC government would be sharing intelligence with the United States on terrorism and reaffirmed that there was “absolutely no discussion of a quid pro quo.”162 As heralded, the following week a team of thirty-two PRC counterterrorism experts arrived in Washington, D.C., to hold talks at the State Department; the U.S. side would characterize the meeting as “serious and productive.”163 One author later described this team as presenting “unprecedented access to China’s detailed intelligence about the Taliban and Osama bin Laden’s al-Qaeda network.”164 Admiral Dennis Blair later characterized the intelligence sharing as “a good, workman-like exchange of information,” but qualified that intelligence from the PRC was a “little bit general” and not the level of detail that was being received from states such as the Philippines and Malaysia.165 On 28 September, the PRC backed a wide-ranging UN Security Council resolution against terrorism and thus provided further legal backing for the United

104

CHAPTER 3

States to act in “self-defence” against the Taliban.166 The PRC government was additionally continuing to provide support for U.S. actions in its relations with Pakistan. On 30 September, Jiang called Musharraf to explicitly endorse the latter’s “tough stand against terrorism” and extended an offer of more than 10 million Chinese yuan in “emergency aid.”167 According to Radio Pakistan, PRC foreign minister Tang had also by that time already been in contact with his Pakistani counterpart to express solidarity and promise PRC assistance in dealing with any possible refugee problems.168 Little more than a week later, on 8 October—a day after the United States began its bombardment of Afghanistan—Bush spoke to Jiang by phone. Jiang reportedly once again expressed sympathy and condolences (tongqing yu weiwen).169 The PRC official news service, Xinhua, reported Jiang as stating that the PRC “supports anti-terrorism activities” and that “President Bush has for many times said that . . . measures will be taken to avoid injuring the innocent. . . . The Chinese side believes that adhering to the above-mentioned principles is very important for effectively fighting terrorism.”170 In other words, Jiang was characterizing the U.S. military assault on Afghanistan as falling under the category of “anti-terrorism activities” and thus offering PRC backing. This was a rare manifestation of open PRC support for U.S. military action in the postCold War period.171 This position would be publicly reiterated on multiple occasions over the following days during the visit of U.S. assistant secretary of state James Kelly to Beijing; the U.S. delegation, for its part, “thanked China for its sympathy and support” and took the opportunity to consult with PRC counterterrorism experts.172 On 19 October, a day before the APEC Economic Leaders’ Meeting was to begin, Jiang and Bush met for the first time in Shanghai. Facing the press afterward, Jiang yet again expressed qualified backing for the U.S. campaign in Afghanistan, stressing the importance of “clearly defined targets” and allowing the UN to play a role.173 Bush, in his statement, mentioned that the PRC was one of the first to respond after the attacks and that the PRC government had agreed to share intelligence and work to thwart terrorist financing. Bush’s comments, however, also revealed the areas where the United States and the PRC still had differences, with Bush touching upon the issue of Taiwan, weapons proliferation, and his belief that “the war on terrorism must never be an excuse to persecute minorities,” a veiled reference to the fact that the United States had not fully accepted PRC conduct toward its Uighur minority in Xinjiang as being justified by the need to prevent terrorism.174 All the same, both sides hailed the meeting as a success, and the PRC subsequently backed an APEC statement on counterterrorism.

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

105

Over the following month, the PRC government continued to provide support for U.S. counterterrorism efforts and also moved to play a role in rebuilding post-Taliban Afghanistan. At the UN, for example, both in the General Assembly and at the Security Council, PRC officials voiced firm endorsement for stronger counterterrorism measures and voted in favor of the relevant resolutions.175 Moreover, the PRC government continued counterterrorism consultations with the United States, welcoming the U.S. State Department coordinator for counterterrorism, Francis Taylor, to Beijing at the beginning of December.176 While there, Taylor stated that “the United States is pleased with the support we have received from China in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks. . . . The Chinese Government has responded quickly and positively to specific requests for assistance, and also took steps to protect its own borders and respond to that common threat.”177 Regarding Afghanistan, on 12 November the PRC government joined with seven other states at the UN in pledging support for “a political solution” in Afghanistan, condemning the Taliban, and endorsing efforts by “the Afghan people to rid themselves of the Taliban” as well as other “international efforts.”178 That same month, the PRC sent representatives to meetings on the post-Taliban rebuilding of Afghanistan in Washington, D.C.179 In December, the PRC government was quick to welcome the interim plan produced at the Bonn conference, offered its assistance to the new Afghani government, and was in attendance later that month when Karzai was sworn in to office in Kabul.180 The PRC complemented these gestures with its actions in international forums, facilitating the passage of UN Security Council resolutions establishing an international security force in Afghanistan, joining other members of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization in expressing “firm support” for the new Afghani government, and pledging $1 million in immediate aid at the Tokyo conference in January.181 Significantly, PRC officials sought to dispel the impression that PRC cooperation was conditional upon U.S. reciprocity, such as support for the PRC’s own struggle against Islamic Uighur separatists in the province of Xinjiang. PRC foreign ministry spokesman Zhu Bangzao did state on 18 September, “The United States asks for China’s support . . . China, in the same token, has reason to ask the United States to give its understanding and support in China’s fight against national splittism and terrorism.”182 However, after foreign journalists reported this as the PRC seeking a quid pro quo, Zhu vehemently denounced such depictions as having “artificially linked together the two things and vilified that we have put forth conditions. . . . This evidently has seriously distorted the stand of the Chinese government.”183

106

CHAPTER 3

Explaining PRC Behavior As in the case of the RF, PRC behav ior can also be broken into its expressive and substantive components. The expressive gestures of PRC officials following the 9/11 attacks appear to hew quite closely to what one would expect from actors adhering to the diplomacy of sympathy. PRC officials quickly moved to express condolences and offer assistance in diverse forums at multiple levels. Premier Jiang Zemin played a central role, sending a telegram to the White House and personally conveying sympathy to Bush. When later asked about his response to the attacks, Jiang answered, “9/11 caused so many unfortunate Americans to die, we Chinese will of course display sympathy and grief, all people’s hearts are made of flesh after all.”184 But Jiang was not acting individually; his behav ior was part of a state-level display that included other officials and ministries, most prominently the Foreign Ministry. As Lawrence Wilkerson, part of Powell’s Policy Planning Staff at the State Department at the time, has stated, “the Chinese were genuinely empathetic.”185 Significantly, the PRC government additionally sought to mute discordant notes coming from its populace. This was accomplished both by suppressing statements on the Internet that did not match the party line as well as aggressively claiming to be the authentic representation of the “Chinese government and people.” The PRC government also offered various forms of support. Some actions were more symbolic than substantial, such as the offers of assistance extended to U.S. tourists stranded in the PRC. Others, however, did involve clear substantive assistance to the United States in its campaign to pursue Al Qaeda and overthrow the Taliban. Rice later wrote that “China reacted quickly after September 11, 2001, sharing information more fully than we’d expected about terrorist activities.”186 Cooperation extended to other areas as well. In the words of one PRC scholar, “After 9/11 occurred, China supported the relative resolutions during votes in the UN Security Council; sent high level foreign affairs officials to Islamabad to promote Pakistan cooperating with the United States; provided humanitarian aid to Afghani refugees; shared counterterrorism intelligence with the United States; promised to smash organizations associated with Al Qaeda in China and froze accounts in Hong Kong associated with Al Qaeda; and supported U.S. military action in Afghanistan.”187 The PRC furthermore assented to having the Federal Bureau of Investigation open a field office in Beijing.188 Notably absent were the earlier refrains of “hegemonism” and calls for the United States not to interfere in the domestic affairs of other countries. Based both on the statements of U.S. officials and the trajectory of U.S. policy on issues of importance to the PRC, PRC officials do not appear to have conditioned their cooperation on reciprocal payoffs. In fact, regarding PRC coopera-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

107

tion Wilkerson later wrote that “no pressure of any sort resulted with regard to Taiwan, Tibet, the Uighurs, or any other policy issue.”189 This does not mean that PRC officials may not have wished the United States would change its position on specific issues, but it does indicate that they did not attempt to barter assistance for rewards, as befits an image of sympathy. This, in turn, was the image the U.S. government received. In February 2002, Powell testified before the Senate that “President Jiang Zemin was one of the first world leaders to call President Bush and offer his sorrow and condolences for the tragic events of September 11th, and in the almost five months since that day, China has helped in the war against terrorism.”190 PRC behav ior following 9/11, both expressively and substantively, matches what we would expect from an actor engaging in the diplomacy of sympathy. As with the RF, this does not negate the possibility the PRC government was acting for strategic reasons, either in the hope of improving its relationship with the United States or recasting its domestic struggles as part of the war on terror. But such a strategy required projecting a seemingly sincere image of sympathy. Indeed, Wu Jianmin, a former PRC diplomat, explicitly describes this logic when explaining the PRC response to 9/11: “When they are grieving, people need sympathy, support, and condolences. . . . When a person is in their most desperate plight, if you express sympathy and condolences to them, they will not forgot it. . . . As you can see, diplomacy not only cannot simply exclude human nature, but at times human nature is a key factor in guiding the correct diplomatic decision.”191

Looking at RF and PRC Responses as Official Sympathy As noted earlier in this chapter, from a traditional perspective it is difficult to explain the sudden shift in political behav ior after the 9/11 attacks. If we simply examine the behav ior of both the RF and PRC in terms of their security interests, it is quite surprising that regional great powers should so willingly acquiesce to the military presence of an offshore power in their backyard. Even relaxing these concerns, it is odd that states should so quickly abandon the standard haggling behav ior of statecraft and so willingly offer cooperation without seeking to lock in reciprocal trade-offs. The premise of this chapter is that there was an alternative strategy available, one that promised potential benefits, but also entailed risks: the diplomacy of sympathy. The 9/11 attacks created the conditions in which the reaction of sympathy became possible, even expected. Both the RF and PRC chose to project strong

108

CHAPTER 3

images of sympathy. Officials of the two governments quickly displayed the expressive gestures associated with sympathy, and in many instances this involved individual emotional labor. We cannot know what their true initial feelings were. What is obvious, however, is that both sides chose to officially and concertedly project a collective image of sympathy. They also coupled this with substantive gestures in the form of offers of cooperation, all the while seeking to avoid the impression that their behav ior was linked to a quid pro quo. From the evidence available, this was not just a mask for the U.S. public. According to Powell, there was “the same response behind closed doors.”192 Not showing sympathy would have conceivably been a significant sign of hostility. Showing sympathy offered both states the opportunity to recast their relations with the United States in ways that would have been impossible using traditional tools. Within the constraints of a strong sympathy strategy both states could hope to rebrand their domestic struggles with separatist groups and reap the benefits of improved relations with the United States. Indeed, one can observe in their rhetoric and gestures attempts to change U.S. views of their intentions and frame themselves as victims of domestic terrorism. But a strong sympathy response also entailed the risk of political, security, and material costs in terms of substantive support as well as the opportunity costs of not having traded such support for assured gains. This was the gamble the RF and PRC took. Although the motives behind this conduct may well have been entirely selfish ones, the calculations and limitations of this strategy are inexplicable absent the “common sense” of sympathy, something that helps to explain the lack of RF and PRC attempts to either undermine U.S. efforts or aggressively bargain for concessions in return for cooperation. The result was that U.S. officials acknowledged both governments as showing sympathy and support; and in the immediate aftermath, relations did indeed appear to briefly improve on the surface. In his State of the Union speech on 29 January 2002, Bush announced that “America is working with Russia and China . . . in ways we never have before, to achieve peace and prosperity.”193 On the multiple issues outlined above, however, the United States did not change its stance in a way RF and PRC officials would have desired. The diplomacy of sympathy may offer the possibility of improved relations, but it does not guarantee that the target will respond in kind. The U.S. government arguably took full advantage of this.

The diplomacy of sympathy entails an alternative logic of political interaction, one which goes against our traditional understandings of international relations as the domain of horse-trading, backstabbing, and arm-twisting. Like the diplo-

THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

109

macy of anger, it involves the emotional labor of concertedly projecting an emotional image through the expressive gestures of state actors. However, whereas the diplomacy of anger endangers relationships, the diplomacy of sympathy offers the possibility of positive redefinition. It provides state actors a means to reframe relations with their counterparts in ways unattainable using standard tools. Nothing guarantees that the target will react as desired, but that does not mean state actors will not take that gamble, even when it requires backing expressive gestures with substantive actions. In short, the diplomacy of sympathy is a strategic option available to state actors when a tragedy befalls a fellow state. But how much sympathy to display? How much to back words with actions? Will the target seek to take advantage of sympathy proffered? What are the costs of not displaying sympathy? And at what point to abandon a strategy of sympathy should the desired outcome not be forthcoming? These all are questions that state actors face as they consider how to respond to another state’s misfortune. In other words, the diplomacy of sympathy engenders its own peculiar strategic calculi. And yet, these questions and calculi only exist by virtue of the fact that the actors involved to some extent believe sympathy to be the natural response of those who harbor humane feelings toward the distressed party. The concept of the diplomacy of sympathy presented in this chapter thus further deepens our understanding of the social expectations and forms of meaningful behav ior that populate the realm of international politics. Moreover, the emphasis by the performing parties on feeling—whether shared suffering or sorrow—also points to the additional ways in which the emotional dimension of human behavior comes to be transposed onto the relations between states, albeit for possibly instrumental purposes. In the next chapter, we turn to the diplomacy of guilt, a strain of emotional diplomacy that also offers the promise of improved relations, but under a very different set of circumstances.

4 THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

Luxembourg: 10 September 1952 At 8:00 a.m. in the morning a solemn group assembled at the Luxembourg City Hall. The atmosphere was tense; there were fears Jewish extremists would make an attempt on the lives of the participants.1 As a consequence, the location had been kept secret and only a very few select journalists were present, belying the moment’s historic importance.2 Once everyone had assembled in the designated conference room, a brief signing ceremony took place without speeches. At its center were three individuals: Moshe Sharett, the Israeli foreign minister; Nahum Goldmann, representative of the Jewish Claims Conference; and Konrad Adenauer, the chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). The text to which they affixed their names committed the FRG to transferring 3.45 billion Deutschmarks (DM) worth of goods and services to the State of Israel, the purpose being, in the wording of the document, “wiedergutzumachen” (lit. “to make good again”). This was an unprecedented agreement.

How do state actors seek to mitigate the influence of past actions that could have harmful effects on their relations with other states? Under such circumstances, the diplomacy of guilt offers a course of action for state actors wishing to remedy their position. The diplomacy of guilt entails a complex of expressive and substantive gestures meant to convey remorse and make amends for past actions. It couples a discourse of wrongdoing, remorse, and apology with symbolic displays 110

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

111

meant to reinforce an image of penance and responsibility. The diplomacy of guilt can also include substantive gestures to repair or compensate a perceived wrongdoing; in some cases, these may even involve significant costs. Importantly, the diplomacy of guilt places its target in the position of accepting or denying the sincerity of the expressed remorse, and thus provides the latter a degree of leverage in the interaction. State actors may see significant benefit from being perceived as repentant and reformed. The diplomacy of guilt draws upon the social meaning of emotional displays of remorse and regret to convey such an image. And yet, to accomplish this, state actors must appear as if they are not following the traditional dictates of interest. State actors seeking to project an image of remorse must behave as if the traditional rules of politics are suspended and they are acting unilaterally to atone for past wrongs. In seeking to illustrate how the diplomacy of guilt can shape state behav ior, this chapter looks to the early decades of the relationship between the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) and the State of Israel. When the FRG came into being in 1949, it inherited a legacy of international suspicion and hostility born of the acts of the Nazi regime during World War II. Perhaps nowhere was this more in evidence than in Israel, which officially treated the FRG as a pariah. In subsequent decades, however, FRG relations with Israel would not only improve, but would also come to involve diplomatic support, substantial transfers of aid, and even covert and open military assistance. This chapter looks at the motives and means of early FRG attempts at rapprochement with Israel and the subsequent trajectory of relations between the two states. Given the nature of the Holocaust, the circumstances of FRG-Israeli relations arguably fit under the designation of an “extreme case” as outlined in the introduction. That said, it was far from obvious at the time that the FRG would pursue the policy of implementing a costly diplomacy of guilt vis-à-vis Israel. Indeed, there were substantial pressures working against such a choice. For one, the FRG was burdened not only with the cost of domestic reconstruction following World War II, it had also assumed the debts of the former Third Reich. Particularly in the early 1950s, it was not clear that the FRG government would have the material ability to take on further financial commitments without courting economic and political collapse. Additionally, the FRG diplomacy of guilt was oriented toward Israel, a state that did not exist at the time of World War II. From an international legal perspective, the FRG did not have any obligations to Israel; there was no precedent, and reparations efforts could have solely been addressed to individuals. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, the FRG was strongly concerned about its relations with other states in the Middle East, and these rehemently opposed any FRG support for Israel. In short, given the countervailing pressures,

112

CHAPTER 4

at the outset it was far from given the FRG would engage in a diplomacy of guilt or that FRG-Israeli relations would assume the trajectory they did. This chapter consists of three sections. The first section discusses why traditional framings of statecraft are at best incomplete when explaining the behav ior of the FRG toward Israel during the first decades of their relations. The second section introduces an alternative model, the diplomacy of guilt, and the third constitutes the empirical meat of the chapter—a study of FRG-Israeli relations over a period of almost two decades.

Explaining FRG- Israeli Relations from the Traditional Perspective The German scholar Josef Joffe writes, “Without Israel and Germany’s horrifying historical legacy, German diplomacy in the region could have been quite straightforward. The Federal Republic might have established intimate, indeed far better relations with the Arab world than have the United States, Britain or France because Germany suffers none of their historical handicaps.”3 Indeed, for both political and economic reasons, the FRG had much to gain by courting Arab states. Politically, in the initial decades after the founding of the FRG, the cooperation of Arab states was seen by FRG officials as crucial for their efforts to diplomatically isolate the German Democratic Republic (GDR), the FRG’s eastern socialist counterpart. Economically, the FRG had a high degree “economic complementarity” with Israel’s Arab neighbors.4 On the one hand it was strong in industrial manufacturing, and Arab states constituted a large potential market. On the other hand, it was reliant on energy imports, and the Arab states were to become important suppliers.5 And yet, the FRG repeatedly jeopardized its relations with Arab states as well as other interests through its policies toward Israel. Consider FRG-Israeli relations in the first few decades after World War II. With the ratification of the Luxembourg Agreement on 27 March 1953, the FRG government committed itself to provide significant material transfers to Israel, all at a time when the future state of the FRG economy was uncertain and the FRG government was struggling to make existing creditors lower their demands. Several years after the agreement was signed, in 1956, Israel signaled its willingness to take steps toward establishing diplomatic relations. The FRG, however, was at the time involved in a diplomatic struggle with the GDR to be recognized as the sole representative of the German people. Fearing backlash from Arab states, the FRG demurred. But as compensation, over the following years it embarked on the risky policy of secretly supplying increasing larger amounts of weapons and economic aid to Israel. Things came to a head in the mid-1960s as press reports laid bare

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

113

the fact that the FRG had been providing military support for Israel in direct contradiction of its claims of neutrality. Confronted with threats from Arab states, the FRG terminated the military aid. But then, in the face of strong Arab opposition, it went on not only to diplomatically recognize Israel, but also to supply even more economic aid. There are three puzzles here. First, why did the FRG sign the Luxembourg Agreement? There were numerous reasons not to sign. For one, signing imperiled FRG efforts to reduce its debt burden at the London Debt Conference, which was convened for the FRG to negotiate with creditor nations over the fate of Germany’s prewar and wartime debts. In fact, the head of the FRG delegation to the conference, Hermann Josef Abs, strongly objected to making any financial commitments to Israel before the FRG had reached an agreement over its debt payments and established its credit.6 He viewed the Luxembourg Agreement as putting the FRG in the difficult position of trying to convince creditors to absolve FRG financial liabilities at the same time that it was promising Israel to spend more. Additionally, it was not clear that the FRG government would have the material ability to take on more commitments without inviting economic collapse. This was the position of the FRG minister of finance, Fritz Schäfer, who viewed any further financial burdens as “impossible.”7 At the time, it was far from clear that the FRG economy was headed toward recovery and the reparations constituted a significant sum. As Freidmann Buettner notes, “seen from today’s perspective, the amount finally agreed upon, 3.45 billion DM, seems somewhat small; for post-war Germany, however, this sum amounted to 15 percent of the total annual budget—23 billion DM—for the year in which the treaty was signed.”8 Schäfer also argued that from an international legal perspective, the FRG did not have any obligations to the State of Israel since it did not exist during World War II; his position was that reparations directed toward individuals were sufficient. What is more, the agreement faced foreign and domestic opposition. On the one hand, the agreement elicited strong protest from various Arab states, most prominently Egypt, which denounced the treaty as a breach of neutrality that would strengthen Israel.9 Egypt, among other states, threatened a boycott and sent a delegation to the FRG to lobby against ratification of the agreement.10 On the other hand, the agreement did not enjoy large popular support either—a poll at the time found that only 11 percent of the public endorsed it as it was.11 The West German business community especially feared that it would hurt economic relations with Arab states. As Buettner notes, “Exports and investments under discussion between German industry and representatives of Arab countries in 1952 were valued by a representative of the German Ministry of Economy at 3 billion DM—50 percent more than the value of orders from Israel that German industry could expect over the next twelve to fourteen years under the restitution

114

CHAPTER 4

agreement.”12 For all these reasons, the FRG decision to agree to reparations appears at odds with traditional expectations of how states should pursue their own welfare. It placed significant political and economic strains on the nascent FRG government. The second puzzle concerns the extremely risky FRG choice to provide weapons and aid to Israel beginning in the late 1950s. FRG transfers included ammunition, spare parts, helicopters, planes, and tanks. The FRG additionally trained Israeli military personnel and purchased Israeli machine guns to support its armaments industry. Granted, the FRG was also interested in countering the influx of Soviet weapons to Arab states such as Egypt. But the decision to engage in military cooperation, particularly the transfer of arms, ran contrary to FRG efforts to maintain friendly relations with Israel’s neighboring Arab states and represented a significant potential danger for FRG efforts to gain allies in its campaign to diplomatically exclude the GDR from a political role in the region. The FRG sought to avoid the consequences of this schizophrenic policy by keeping its military aid to Israel secret. In doing so, however, it acted in direct contradiction to the public statements of the Foreign Ministry, which announced that the FRG would not deliver weapons to Israel or any other areas of tension.13 In effect, FRG officials were blatantly lying to their Arab counterparts and thus inviting a significant possible backlash if caught. This is indeed what happed, leading to what Hans Maull has termed “an almost complete political rupture with the Arab world.”14 Third, when the weapons transfers eventually did become public, the FRG government chose to diplomatically recognize Israel despite the possible consequences. Not only this, it also offered additional economic aid as compensation for having terminated further weapons shipments. Again, the direct economic or security benefits of pursuing relations with the State of Israel, as compared to the other states in the region, were relatively small. In contrast, the conceivable level of political damage that could come from normalizing relations with Israel was seen by FRG officials at the time as quite high. For example, Horst Osterheld, director of the Foreign Affairs Office of the Chancellery, objected to Ludwig Erhard, the FRG chancellor at the time, that establishing diplomatic relations would be “too big a step,” because “it will turn all the Arabs against us. . . . The hatred of Israel is the only thing where they are united. Do not do it!”15 Apart from the economic significance of maintaining good relations with other states in the region, FRG officials were apprehensive that Israel’s Arab neighbors would establish diplomatic relations with the GDR in retaliation. In the end, while none recognized the GDR outright, ten Arab states did break off diplomatic relations and three others recalled their ambassadors. It would be many years before these relations were reestablished.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

115

In the text quoted at the outset of this section, Joffe’s counterfactual suggests that without the stain of the Holocaust, the FRG would have been able to pursue traditional political and economic interests in the Middle East.16 As Joffe writes, “realpolitik . . . pulls the FRG toward the Arab world with its vast command over a strategic resource (oil), its demographic strength and its vast potential market.”17 It would therefore appear something other than traditional realpolitik—the modus operandi we should expect from standard accounts of international relations—is at work. The Luxembourg Agreement, the secret weapons shipments, and the normalization of FRG-Israeli relations—all are policy choices that run counter to what we should expect from a state pursing traditional realpolitik. Certainly, even the most hard-nosed of realists would concede that states occasionally take on additional causes—but only when they do not interfere with significant interests. And yet the political and economic interests FRG officials imperiled with their policies toward Israel were significant. Joffe attributes FRG policy toward Israel as the product of “Germany’s horrifying historical legacy.”18 But how does a “horrifying historical legacy” influence policy? How do we explain FRG behav ior? Lily Gardner Feldman provides one possible answer in her path-breaking research on the history of FRG-Israeli relations. She employs the framework of “special relationships” to explain FRG behav ior.19 Feldman categorizes as “special” those relations that are characterized by mutual needs that cannot be satisfied by others, historical preoccupations, multilayered contacts, and preferential treatment. The difficulty with this approach, however, is that while the relationship between the FRG and Israel certainly is “special,” it involves a particular dynamic of obligation that is difficult to generalize given her approach. Bluntly, there appears to be a dimension to the “specialness” of FRG-Israeli relations peculiar to the Nazi legacy that is quite different than other cases she examines, such as BritishAmerican relations, and which is thus in need of a more exact explanation. Other scholars, such as Jennifer Lind, Yinan He, and Thomas Berger, have looked more specifically looked at the manner in which historical legacies can shape relations between states. Lind addresses these issues by developing a theory of “apologetic remembrance.”20 She proposes that apologetic remembrance can lessen threat perceptions by creating domestic costs for belligerent action, changing state identities, and influencing the emotional perceptions of past victims of aggression. Lind also suggests that attempts at apologetic remembrance may fail when they elicit backlash from domestic nationalist groups, thus casting doubt on the social support for such efforts. Yinan He, along similar lines, proposes the concept of “deep reconciliation,” which refers to the “harmonization of national memories between parties involved.”21 He is interested in how processes of national mythmaking shape

116

CHAPTER 4

mutual perceptions between states and argues that where national histories are consonant, the foundations exist for a stable peace. He nonetheless also discusses the role of restitution, which she defines as including apologies and material compensation.22 For He, restitution can play a role in healing the psychological wounds of victims of past harm. The arguments of both these authors seek to explain how historical victims respond to or interact with perpetrator states. Neither, however, explicitly theorizes the motives or behaviors of perpetrator states. Lind herself admits that she does not fully answer the question of “why do some states pursue contrition at all?”23 Particularly in the case of FRG-Israeli relations, the two states did not face the same issues concerning traditional security-based threat perceptions as other states Lind examines, such as Japan and South Korea, which are in much closer geographic proximity. He, as well, is less interested in motives than she is in the effects of deep reconciliation. As such, it is difficult to use their approaches to explain what drove FRG policy toward Israel to take the form it did, as opposed to, for instance, focusing on individually targeted reparations and educational reforms. Indeed, why would the FRG even seek to deal with this historical legacy, given the difficulties relations with Israel posed for its position vis-à-vis other states in the Middle East? Thomas Berger has suggested both the growing international significance of the norms of the human rights regime and increased international interdependence have pushed states to apologize. He writes, “In the past, Disraeli’s quip ‘never explain, never apologize’ might well be taken as the maxim by which most states conducted their foreign policies. Over the past few decades, however, a concatenation of longterm trends has placed historical justice squarely on the international agenda.”24 This, together with the demands of maintaining amicable relations with other states in a more interdependent world, has led to more instances of apologizing on the international stage. While Berger’s arguments speak to the reasons why human rights violations would be seen as something that would harm a state’s image, the question remains unanswered as to why that would need to be rectified through a display of remorse as opposed to simple payoffs and policy changes. None of this is to say that Lind, He, or Berger have “gotten it wrong.” Quite the opposite; all are extremely important and valuable contributions, and I view what I am doing in this chapter as a friendly addition to their research projects. Lind and He, for example, respectively acknowledge that “apologetic remembrance” or “deep reconciliation” involve actions that do not fit traditional conceptions of international relations. But a number of questions still remain. For instance, from where do these complexes of behav ior come? What specific con-

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

117

fluences of circumstances, as opposed to broad historical trends, motivate leaders to adopt these behaviors? What consequences can such behav ior entail? How do these behaviors shape the strategies of their targets? The answers to these questions, I argue, lie in explicitly theorizing a diplomacy of guilt.

The Diplomacy of Guilt Guilt Guilt is an emotional response to the belief that one has engaged in behav ior that is morally wrong, often resulting in harm to others. Guilt is elicited when an actor views itself as having done wrong through word, thought, deed, or inaction.25 In particular, guilt is often cited in conjunction with harm done to others, harm for which the actor is responsible. It is important to note that the attribution of personal responsibility plays an important role.26 It is the disjuncture between behavior for which one is personally responsible and one’s moral code. This causal responsibility need not be one of direct intention; it can also be one of inaction, insufficient action, or negligence.27 What is significant is that the actor perceives such a responsibility. Guilt is a negative, unpleasant emotion associated with subdued, solemn expressions and displays of remorse. The English playwright and poet Nicholas Rowe (1674–1718) wrote that “Guilt is the source of sorrow! ’tis the fiend, / Th’ avenging fiend that follows us behind / With whips and stings . . .”28 Or as June Tangney, a contemporary professor of psychology writes, “feelings of guilt can be painful . . . guilt involves a sense of tension, remorse, and regret over the ‘bad thing done.’ ”29 Guilt is felt as a burden, an internal pressure or weight.30 Feelings of guilt contain an element of empathy for the victim of one’s behav ior.31 What is more, they include “a nagging focus or preoccupation with the specific transgression—thinking of it over and over, wishing they had behaved differently or could somehow undo the bad deed that was done.”32 Actors displaying guilt should therefore adopt a solemn, even pained, outward countenance. Guilt is characterized by the desire to make amends and to ameliorate the harm done.33 One author writes, “The basic action tendency of guilt is make repairs, to undo the bad one has caused.”34 Another states, “Not surprisingly, the tension, remorse, and regret of guilt . . . often motivates reparative action— confessing, apologizing, or somehow repairing the bad thing that was done.”35 Consequently, guilt is associated with the discourse of contrition, remorse, and apology. Substantively, it translates into an active effort to offset the damage done

118

CHAPTER 4

either through compensating the injured party or punishing the self. Guilt can thus even motivate self-inflicted harm.36 In short, displays of guilt demonstrate that an actor views its past behav ior as wrong and is seeking to make amends. When combined, the expressive behav ior and action tendencies outlined thus far serve to indicate a particular internal disposition of an actor toward its own past behav ior. The actor in question views its past actions as morally reprehensible, acknowledges the harm that may have been caused, and desires to make up for them. Such behav ior can thus be interpreted as an actor simultaneously taking responsibility for and repudiating prior actions. An actor lacking in such expressions, consequently, would send the signal that it does not view its past behav ior as reprehensible or wrong.

The Diplomacy of Guilt The above offers a basic model of guilt behav ior. The subsequent question is how this model manifests itself as a form of diplomacy. The following outlines what such a translation would entail. As a state-level performance, the diplomacy of guilt is a means for state actors to present an image that distances themselves from past transgressions and works to rehabilitate their state on the international stage. The diplomacy of guilt takes individual remorse and penance as a model for coordinated state-level action to present a state as reformed. State actors engaging in the diplomacy of guilt are drawing upon the significance that displays of remorse have within social life to convey an image about the present beliefs and intentions of their state. On the level of discourse, corresponding expressive gestures include a number of elements. First, and most obviously, is direct usage of terms such as guilt, remorse, and shame.37 A second element is acknowledgment of the pain or suffering that past actions have caused. Finally, one should expect statements condemning or apologizing for those actions. This last form of expression follows from the notion that a guilty actor should be motivated toward confession. What is more, the expression of guilt also is associated with certain types of body language and comportment; this can manifest itself in the form emotional labor on the part of officials that fits the tone of the emotion, such as adopting a solemn and subdued posture, displaying a grave facial expression, or maintaining silence in the face of accusations by others. State representatives that were jovial, defensive, or aggressive would therefore not be considered to be acting according to the expectations of guilt behav ior. Guilt can also be projected through symbolic gestures that convey the emotional tone of guilt in a ceremonial form, such as “minutes of silence” or wreath-laying for those affected by the actor’s transgressions.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

119

Nothing in this discussion suggests that state actors need actually express personal feelings of guilt to project this image. There is in fact a tension when notions of guilt behav ior are applied to the state level; guilt is generally an individual emotion, while the state is a collective actor. Granted, it is possible in certain cases for individuals to feel guilt on behalf of the group to which they belong.38 But for the most part, because on a personal level guilt is only felt for one’s own actions, we should not expect to see explicit statements of guilt by state officials not personally responsible for the transgressions at issue. Rather, one particular implication of this is that state actors may cite the relevant transgressions as a source of shame or remorse.39 These latter discourses involve a repudiation of attributes or actions with which one is associated without necessarily implying personal responsibility.40 We should also most likely see state actors select rhetoric and symbolic gestures in a manner intended to convey that they represent the state as corporate actor. These include apologies on the part of the state, official statements of remorse for past actions, and ceremonial participation in commemorative functions. The diplomacy of guilt can further involve a state accepting substantive obligations toward a target to convey remorse. Substantive gestures consist of costly gestures (either material or political) that seek to made amends for past transgressions.41 Aid, reparations, and diplomatic support all form means by which state actors can provide concrete substantiation of the image of guilt. These substantive actions should be oriented toward alleviating the suffering of or providing compensation to the injured party. Reparations that were imposed instead of freely provided, however, would not be signs of intent, as these were not actions undertaken willingly. The form and internal consonance of the performance, both expressively and substantively, are important for giving the intentions behind the diplomacy of guilt the appearance of sincerity. For one, rhetoric of contrition and remorse without corresponding substantial gestures may be easily dismissed as “cheap talk.” Conversely, substantial gestures such as aid may not be viewed as reparations or an expression of guilt absent discourse that characterizes it as such. State actors engaged in guilt behav ior must be willing to both perform the emotional labor associated with contrition and follow through on obligations to make substantive amends. This characterization of the diplomacy of guilt in many ways dovetails with existing work that examines apologies and reconciliation in international relations. This literature has generally fallen into one of two categories. The first category has taken a positivist approach to explaining apologetic behav ior. The work of Lind, He, and Berger as already outlined above would fall under this heading. The second involves work that takes a normative approach to apologies,

120

CHAPTER 4

seeking to assess the existing behavior of state actors according to a moral yardstick, and frequently finds them failing. This is the approach adopted by Girma Negash, for instance, who argues that apologies should involve acknowledgment, truth-telling, remorse, and a delineation of the participants and their responsibility.42 Negash claims that the removed position of state actors coupled with the imperatives of self-interested statecraft leave many apologies within international relations wanting. This is also the approach of Elazar Barkan, who adopts a slightly more optimistic view, taking international apologies and restitution as evidence of specifically negotiated settlements between victim and perpetrator to create a new relationship against a loose international moral background.43 Missing from much of the current work on apologies in international relations, however, is an ontological account of what apologetic behav ior is. Certainly, there exists no dearth in the scholarly literature of typologies of the subvarieties of apologetic behav ior.44 But in these accounts, apologies and apologetic behav ior appear to belong to a sui generis category. By taking such behav ior as a variant of emotional diplomacy, it becomes possible to extricate how such behaviors are linked to an emotionally rooted understanding of an actor’s intentions and beliefs. To appear sincere, apologies cannot simply be apologies; they need to be couched in a broader emotional performance of expressive and substantive gestures that convey remorse. It is not that emotional expression is ancillary to apologies, rather apologies, reparations, and other similar behaviors flow out of a logic that takes them as indicative of an internal emotional state. It is by hewing to the performative logic of such an emotional state that state actors generate the behaviors in which these authors are interested. This perspective places the diplomacy of guilt within a family of emotional displays on the international stage, a domain much broader than focused discussions of apology and reconciliation. As such, the diplomacy of guilt is also subject to interactive and strategic political processes similar to those in previous chapters. State actors may see much benefit in being perceived as repentant—rehabilitation of one’s image can facilitate better relations, either by changing the views of other state actors or lessening the antipathy of foreign publics. The emotional behav ior associated with the diplomacy of guilt offers a way to accomplish this. It has the potential to achieve what traditional tools of politics cannot. One cannot simply bribe or coerce an actor into thinking one is now a reformed actor. But projecting an apparently sincere image of guilt and remorse requires state actors to behave as if traditional concerns about costs or other political interests do not apply. Something overlooked by many approaches is that the diplomacy of guilt has an interactive dynamic; it is not simply limited to the behav ior of the sender. As

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

121

Berger—a lone exception—has noted, “For reconciliation to occur, apologies must not just be given; they also have to be accepted.”45 Specifically, a target of the diplomacy of guilt has three options: (1) to reject the display of guilt; (2) to register the attempt, but deign it insufficient and call for further signs of contrition; or (3) to fully accept the sender as sincere. In cases where the sender is seeking the political benefits that accrue from reconciliation, such aims can provide the target with sufficient political leverage to extract concessions. This adds an element of strategic calculation to interactions between target and sender, as the former may test the willingness of the latter to back expressive gestures with substantive actions. Alternately, and a further wrinkle in Lind’s discussion of apologies eliciting domestic backlash, targets may under certain circumstances have incentives to overlook discordant notes in the sender’s display of remorse in order to benefit from the proffered restitution. Ironically, validating the sender as sincerely attempting to display remorse may be a means to rhetorically trap it into providing further substantive support. In sum, the diplomacy of guilt offers states a means to rehabilitate their image in light of past historical transgressions. It achieves this by projecting emotional behav ior onto the international stage. This can have positive political consequences where the stain of past misdeeds is coloring current relations with fellow states or other significant actors. The political incentives behind the diplomacy of guilt are the benefits that flow from an improved image. The diplomacy of guilt, however, can be costly, as it can also require substantive gestures. It also has an important interactive dynamic. The target of the diplomacy of guilt plays a key role in determining these costs, for its acceptance or refusal of remorseful gestures determines in no small part the success of the effort.

Empirical Investigations The purpose of what follows is to examine the motivations, implicit understandings, and shared expectations that shaped the behavior of policymakers in the nascent FRG toward the State of Israel in the immediate decades following World War II. In short, the question guiding this study is how to explain FRG policy toward Israel in the postwar years. In contrast to studies that have sought to examine broader issues of social reconciliation, this chapter is interested in state action. Consequently, the focus of this chapter is less on the domestic attitudes in the FRG and Israel than foreign policy choices, although this study does note when these choices were constrained by, or even sought to steer, larger public sentiments. Correspondingly, this chapter gives analytic priority to the actions of the leaders and foreign policy officials in both states. For these purposes, I have

122

CHAPTER 4

surveyed memoirs, foreign policy documents, official correspondence and records, and numerous secondary accounts. The argument is simple: FRG state actors engaged in the diplomacy of guilt in an effort to redeem their state’s image, and this, in turn, generated the basis of expectations around which FRG-Israeli relations would revolve for the subsequent decades. Specifically, when FRG officials sought to rehabilitate their state on the international stage, they intentionally selected expressive and substantive gestures associated with the emotions of guilt and remorse. This is not to say that the leaders who decided upon these behaviors subjectively felt guilt or even had reason to; many had personally suffered under Nazi rule themselves.46 Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, in particular, had endured imprisonment during the Nazi regime. Another key player, Franz Böhm, who headed the FRG delegation negotiating with Israel, had been active in the opposition to the Nazi regime. Instead, my claim is that they pursued a collective diplomacy of guilt that portrayed the FRG as a repentant actor. This was done consciously, and while moral considerations were not entirely absent, at key points the significant driver was the goal to change how the FRG was viewed not only by Israel but also the broader international community. Consequently, I do not claim that FRG officials lacked strategic reasons for wanting to project an image of guilt. Rather, I argue that their strategic choices can only be understood against a background of expectations about what the “natural” behav ior should be for an actor that is repentant and reformed. FRG officials navigated these expectations in formulating their policy toward Israel, and initially were quite aware of its costs and benefits. The benefits to the FRG of projecting an image of guilt have been mentioned above—the ability to send the message that their state was reformed and thereby rehabilitate the image of the FRG on the international stage. FRG officials saw this important both for shaping attitudes of influential Jewish groups in the United States as well as facilitating their reentry into the broader “family of nations.” There were, however, also significant costs. The FRG diplomacy of guilt evoked expectations on the part of Israel for substantive gestures in the form of expensive reparations or additional types of obligations. In fact, Israeli strategies toward the FRG involved playing upon what is expected from a truly remorseful actor. Israeli officials would draw upon previous FRG proclamations of guilt and responsibility to push for further concessions. The costs of the latter became particularly acute for the FRG when they began to conflict with other stated economic, political, or security interests. Nevertheless, concern about the political repercussions of damaging their image prevented them from abandoning this course. Over time a “special responsibility” to Israel would become internalized as a fundamental element of FRG foreign policy.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

123

The Luxembourg Agreement Historical Background Konrad Adenauer, the first chancellor of the FRG, wrote in his memoirs that “one of the darkest chapters of the times that lay behind us is the persecution of the Jews by the Nazis. . . . Nothing had so disgraced the German name and produced such an amount of contempt by other peoples than this destruction of the Jews.”47 By the end of World War II, the genocidal policies of the Nazi regime had resulted in the deaths of approximately six million European Jews. When the FRG was formed in 1949 out of U.S., British, and French occupation zones, FRG officials inherited that legacy. Post-World War II Germany was, in the words of Adenauer, “surrounded by a sea of hate, fear, and contempt.”48 This was arguably nowhere more evident that in the conduct of the State of Israel. Created as a Jewish state in 1948, Israel treated the newly formed FRG as an anathema. The Israeli government forbid the purchase of German goods and services, Germans were categorically denied entry visas, and Israeli passports were stamped with the qualification that they were valid for travel to states “with the exception of Germany.”49 Even use of the German language in Israel faced bans.50 Directly prior to the establishment of the FRG, a speaker for the Israeli government declared that Israel would “never” establish diplomatic relations with it.51 Not only were diplomatic relations out of the question, Israeli diplomats were directed to avoid all contact with FRG officials—they even received instructions that upon being approached by FRG representatives at social occasions in third countries, they were to quickly break off conversation and look for other interlocutors.52 Internationally, the recently formed Israeli government actively worked against anything that would restore the position of Germany within the “community of nations.” Standing before the United Nations (UN) in 1950, Israeli foreign minister Moshe Sharett proclaimed that “the people of Israel and the Jews throughout the world view with consternation and distress the progressive readmission of Germany by the family of nations, with her revolting record intact, her guilt unexpiated, and her heart unchanged.”53 The Israeli government also vocally opposed FRG membership in international organizations ranging from the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, the World Health Organization, and the International Labor Organization to the International Grains Council.54 For instance, FRG delegates to an international parliamentary organization were confronted by Israeli objections that “it was an insult to every honest and decent human being to have to deal with Germans.”55 When the Western Allies began moving to arm the FRG for the emerging Cold War, the Israeli government lodged a strong protest. The Knesset decried the fact that rearmament would be permitted

124

CHAPTER 4

“the same Germany that killed six million of our people; cold-blooded, calculating, and with satanic brutality, unrepentant—and without there having been a fundamental change in the attitudes of the German people.”56 For their part, FRG officials perceived their relationship with Israel to be an indicator by which the rehabilitation of their state would be measured. As Adenauer later stated, “We had committed such crimes against [the Jews], that this needed to be atoned (gesühnt) or recompensed (wiedergutgemacht) should we want to win back esteem among the peoples of the earth.”57 This perspective was echoed by the U.S. high commissioner in Germany, John McCloy, who in 1949 had publicly stated that FRG behav ior toward Jews would “be one of the real touchstones and the test of Germany’s progress towards the light.”58 Consequently, shortly after the FRG was established, certain FRG officials started to consider how to reach out toward Israel. According to Herbert Blankenhorn, Adenauer’s foreign policy advisor at the time, “In the first weeks of the federal government’s existence, discussions between the Chancellor and myself took place about how to establish a new basis for the relationship of the German state to the Jewish people and the State of Israel. . . . The new German state could only win back esteem, reputation, and credibility in the world when the Federal Government and parliament, through a freely made decision, distanced itself from the past and with impressive material compensation contributed . . . to helping those who had lost everything build a new existence.”59 In short, the perceived political necessity of rehabilitation provided the initial motive for FRG efforts to achieve reconciliation with Israel. Granted, there were those in the FRG government who also referred to the moral significance of such efforts. But political and reputational concerns were almost always mentioned in tandem. The result was that the FRG leadership embarked on the path toward a diplomacy of guilt.

Initial Efforts The first public move by Adenauer in this direction was made during an interview in November 1949 with the General Weekly of Jews in Germany. In this interview, Adenauer stated that “the German people is willing to atone for (wiedergutmachen) the injustice that was perpetrated in its name against Jews by a criminal regime to the extent that this is possible, after millions of people have been irrevocably annihilated. . . . Since 1945 too little has been done for this atonement (Wiedergutmachung).”60 As a “first, direct sign” of the FRG’s desire to atone for the past, Adenauer offered the State of Israel 10 million DM.61 Adenauer’s statement was significant for two reasons. First, it recognized Israel as a representative of Jewish claims stemming from the Holocaust. Second, it extended the possibility

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

125

of a comprehensive material transfer. Previous forms of compensation for Nazi victims, which Western occupying powers had instituted in a patchwork fashion after the end of the war, had only been addressed to individuals.62 While the sum named by Adenauer was likely only intended as a first gesture, limited at the time due to the precarious and uncertain financial nature of the newly established FRG, from the Israeli side it was met with significant scorn.63 Some in Israel accused Adenauer of offering 1.66 DM per Jewish victim.64 At the same time, however, the newly formed State of Israel was under significant economic pressure itself: regionally isolated by hostile neighbors, faced with the need to provide for large numbers of immigrants, and lacking both in industrial means of production and sufficient sources of foreign currency.65 As a result, the Israeli government collected information through various channels—including members of the Jewish diaspora—about the possibility of receiving more substantial material restitution from the FRG.66 In the spring of 1950, the Israeli government sent its director of customs, Kurt Mendelssohn, to the FRG to explore the matter further. He reported back that the FRG had “apparently great political interest in direct talks with the State of Israel” and that “official, statelevel approach to this matter appeals to the Germans.”67 In Israel, there was considerable controversy within the government as to whether to pursue direct negotiations with the FRG.68 On the one hand, direct negotiations held the greatest chances of success. The Israeli government was in a grave financial situation, and could desperately use the aid promised from a settlement with the FRG. As Robert Kempner, the former chief prosecutor at the Nuremburg trials advised the Israeli government, restitution claims “cannot be dealt with by means of telepathy.”69 On the other hand, there was strong opposition in Israel to any type of official interaction with the FRG, particularly when this might serve to increase the latter’s legitimacy. Consequently, the Israeli government decided to appeal to the occupying powers for German reparations. In notes addressed to the United States, the United Kingdom, and France on 16 January 1951, the Israeli government sought to press for better implementation of individual restitution measures for the victims of Nazi Germany as well as lay the foundation for general transfers to Israel. It outlined the “immeasurable injury inflicted upon the Jewish people” and the “belief that atonement by the German Government and people for this injury is a necessary prelude to any political and moral rehabilitation of Germany in the eyes of the civilized world.”70 Two months later, on 12 March, it presented an additional note to the occupying powers, describing in greater detail the events of the Holocaust and stating again that without reparations, there could not be “any approach to the rehabilitation of Germany among the community of nations.”71 It therefore “urgently” requested that “the Occupying Powers should not hand over full powers to any German

126

CHAPTER 4

Government without express reservations having been made for the payment of reparations to Israel.”72 Significantly, the Israeli government was seeking to play upon the need for FRG rehabilitation to elicit reparations without giving FRG officials the legitimacy of direct interaction. The subsequent replies from the occupying powers were not unsympathetic, but all declined Israeli entreaties to impose a settlement on Germany.73 In particular, the Western occupied powers were concerned about the possible financial burden such payments would place on the newly formed FRG.74 The Israeli government also faced the problem that, unlike other claimants for restitution from the FRG, it did not exist as a legal entity during World War II. The FRG was under no international legal obligation to Israel. In other words, the Israeli pursuit of material compensation was dependent on the desire of the FRG to pay. In private, however, U.S. officials did express some support for Israeli claims, but it was up to Israel to pursue them directly with FRG officials.75

The First Expressive Gesture The first real significant meeting between both sides hewed closely to the expectations associated with guilt behav ior. The meeting occurred at Adenauer’s initiative. Specifically, two days after the March note had been submitted, Adenauer began pushing for direct talks with Israeli government representatives. The Israeli government, ever more desperate for economic aid, agreed to a meeting in Paris under the condition of full secrecy.76 On 19 April, Adenauer met with the director general of the Israeli Ministry of Finance, David Horowitz, and the Israeli ambassador to France, Maurice Fischer. Fischer had received instructions to “make Adenauer feel the historic meaning of the meeting with its fully tragic aspects.”77 During the meeting, Horowitz “passionately” presented the history of the Holocaust and the Israeli position.78 Furthermore, Horowitz demanded an “official and public declaration of guilt,” acknowledging responsibility and condemning the Nazi crimes, as a precondition for further negotiations.79 Adenauer, in response, agreed to “do everything in his power to compensate the material damages caused by the Hitler regime.”80 In the following months, the FRG government began working on a statement that would satisfy Israeli demands and set the stage for negotiations. The Israeli side demanded an expressive statement that conveyed guilt and remorse. An insufficient declaration of guilt risked rejection by the Israeli government and other Jewish organizations. The difficulty was that the statement also needed to avoid appearing to embrace the domestically unpopular notion of collective guilt (Kollektivschuld) in order to prevent a public backlash in the FRG. Such a response would counteract the very image such a statement was aiming to project. Conse-

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

127

quently, there was an extensive, and highly secretive, back-and-forth as drafts were circulated between FRG officials on the one side and representatives of Jewish organizations and the Israeli government on the other. Early versions of the statement contained an explicit renunciation of the notion of collective guilt, while at the same time “unconditionally acknowledging the collective responsibility of the German people for the injustices committed in its name.”81 Eventually, this direct repudiation of the collective guilt thesis was dropped, and by late August 1951, the final version of a statement was ready. Adenauer chose 27 September, a date close to the Jewish New Year, to officially make the declaration before the Bundestag regarding German responsibility and proclaim the desire of the FRG to pay damages to Israel. This was the first major expressive gesture in the FRG’s diplomacy of guilt toward Israel. The statement was framed by the emotional demeanor of both Adenauer and his audience. As Yeshayahu Jelenik writes, “the ceremony in the Bundestag, the delegates in contemplative mood and the visitors’ gallery full of guests—including Israeli journalists and representatives of the JAFP [Jewish Agency for Palestine] created an impressive setting for the declaration of the Federal Government. Chancellor Konrad Andenauer read it in a serious tone.”82 In his declaration, Adenauer began by outlining the legal measures that the FRG had taken to protect individuals within the new republic. He then sought to differentiate the past Nazi regime from the new FRG government and the German populace. He stated, for example, that “out of shame (Scham) for the disgrace done to the German name . . . many Germans aided their fellow Jewish citizens.”83 He nevertheless acknowledged a German responsibility: “Many unspeakable crimes were committed in the name of the German people that obligate us to moral and material compensation (Wiedergutmachung).”84 With this speech Adenauer thus implicitly argued against the notion of the German people as being collectively guilty, juxtaposing against such claims the individuals who defied the Nazis. At the same time, he admitted that crimes were committed “in the German name” that required Wiedergutmachung. As noted above, the term Wiedergutmachung carries the sense of “making good again”—a stark contrast to the term Schilumim, later used by the Israelis, which simply means “remuneration” or “payments.”85 Adenauer concluded by saying that the FRG was “deeply committed, that the spirit of true humanity should again become alive and fertile. . . . The Federal Government views serving this spirit with all its strength the foremost duty of the German people.”86 In crafting this expressive gesture, Adenauer’s statement drew upon existing discourses about German responsibility at the time, invoking in particular the language of shame. Theodor Heuss, the president of the FRG, had spoken out in 1949 against collective guilt—guilt simply for the reason of being German—but

128

CHAPTER 4

acknowledged a collective shame (Kollektivscham). Specifically, he stated that “the worst that Hitler did to us—and he had done much—is this, that he had forced onto us the shame of baring the same German name as he and his associates.”87 Heuss himself had been involved in drafting the declaration, and it would appear to reflect in part his philosophy. The themes in Adenauer’s speech were also echoed in the responses of the Bundestag representatives: namely an acknowledgment of wrongdoing “in the German name,” expressions of shame, and support for Wiedergutmachung. For example, Social Democrat Paul Löbe stated in his response that “every correctly thinking person is ashamed (schämt sich) of the these disgraceful actions that occurred under the misuse of the German name.”88 He continued, “Every German is therefore called upon to make good (wiedergutzumachen) the injustice done to the Jews among us.”89 The entire parliament showed its support of Adenauer’s declaration by standing for one minute in silence. The Israeli government responded that very day with a press statement it had prepared in advance.90 It noted, “it seems that the German Federal Government unreservedly acknowledges that unspeakable crimes were committed in the name of the German people and that this implies an obligation to make moral and material reparation.”91 The Israeli government neither rejected nor enthusiastically endorsed the FRG declaration—it simply concluded by stating that it would “study the German Chancellor’s declaration and will in due course make its attitude known.”92 In contrast, U.S. high commissioner McCloy stated that he was “very impressed from its tone and content,” while the British acknowledged it with “satisfaction.”93

Toward Substantive Gestures Having engaged in the expressive gestures of a diplomacy of guilt, the central issue now became the extent of the substantive gestures the FRG was willing to undertake. The Israeli side therefore backed a meeting between Nahum Goldmann, chairman of the Jewish Claims Conference, and Adenauer to establish a basis for negotiations. The Claims Conference—constituted by various international Jewish organizations—had itself been convened at the suggestion of Israeli foreign minister Sharett, to provide broader support for Israeli remuneration efforts.94 The meeting occurred in London on 6 December 1951. The meeting centered on the basic need for the FRG to substantively engage in a diplomacy of guilt. Goldmann emphasized that while the Jewish people would never forget what had occurred, “a widely visible symbol of reconciliation (Wiedergutmachung) would show Jews and the world that a new Germany had emerged.”95 Goldmann cautioned, however, that should the FRG want “to

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

129

bargain over pennies,” it would be best not to begin negotiations, as the result would be to “further poison relations between Germany and the Jews.”96 Adenauer responded that he viewed Wiedergutmachung an obligation of honor (Ehrenpflicht) for the German people, and agreed on the spot to accepting $1 billion—a considerable sum at the time—as the basis for negotiations.97 Adenauer then put this commitment in letter form.98 It was now up to the Israeli government to authorize the start of negotiations. The idea of dealing with the FRG—and thus granting it some legitimacy—was highly controversial within Israel. Goldmann himself had been consistently traveling with bodyguards due to death threats.99 The Knesset deliberations over reparations initiated one of the first major domestic political crises within Israel. During the debate, the Knesset was surrounded by protestors seeking to prevent Israel from accepting “blood money” from the Germans. The situation escalated when they started throwing stones and attempted to storm the building, causing the Israeli government to call upon the army to quell the demonstrations and the Knesset to be fenced in with barbed wire.100 Nevertheless, the prime minster of Israel, David Ben-Gurion, was able to achieve a small majority for opening the talks, arguing, “Let not the murderers of our people be also their inheritors.”101 Pragmatic financial and political interests overrode domestic opposition. Negotiations were set to begin on 21 March 1952 in Wassenaar, Netherlands. The FRG government chose Franz Böhm as its chief representative and Otto Küster as his delegate, both individuals with clean records during the Nazi period and the former a known proponent of reconciliation. The location was kept secret to prevent possible attacks by Jewish groups opposed to any arrangement with the FRG. The negotiations were divided into morning meetings with representatives of the Israeli government and afternoon meetings with representatives of the Claims Conference. The emotional labor of the diplomacy of guilt extended to the negotiations. The atmosphere of the first meeting was, according to a report from the Israeli delegates, “cool and formal.”102 The Israeli side was under instructions not to shake hands or engage in conversation with their German counterparts.103 Giora Josephthal, the leader of Israeli delegation, later wrote, “the first encounter was a dramatic one. . . . Nobody shook hands with anybody but just bowed mutely when introduced.”104 The Israeli delegation opened with a statement that contained a detailed discussion of the Holocaust and its victims, and was amended with the caveat that “these losses and this suffering cannot be made good by any material recompense. . . . For a settling of the historical account, the hour has not yet come.”105 According to an Israeli observer, “the tension in the room was very oppressive. . . . The Germans sat there with folded hands. One could see how difficult it was to listen to the description of horror and robbery.”106 The FRG delegation,

130

CHAPTER 4

for its part, stated that “[the FRG] hopes that the efforts that will be taken by Germany to overcome the damages caused to the Jewish community will be perceived by the Israeli and Jewish side as evidence of a serious and sincere desire for conciliation (Wiedergutmachungswillen).”107 As Jekutiel Deligdisch writes, “The prevailing emotional climate, that was created by the sense of guilt (Schuldbewusstsein) of one party and the great injustice suffered by the other, fundamentally differentiates these negotiations from other reparations conferences, which primarily had a purely businesslike character.”108

Obstacles to Substantive Gestures of Guilt: The Role of Other Interests The talks soon faced difficulties primarily due to the fact that they were running parallel to one such “businesslike” set of negotiations: the London Debt Conference. The FRG had proclaimed itself the sole legal successor of Nazi Germany in order to bolster its position vis-à-vis its eastern counterpart; this, however, entailed accepting the financial burdens amassed by the Nazi state. The London Debt Conference offered the FRG the chance to seek concessions from its inherited creditors. The head of the London delegation, Hermann Josef Abs, opposed making any financial commitments to the Israelis before the FRG had reached an agreement over its debt payments and established its credit.109 He viewed the Wassenaar negotiations as putting the FRG in the difficult position of trying to convince creditors to absolve FRG financial liabilities at the same time that it was promising the Israelis to spend more. Due to these concerns, Böhm and Küster were only empowered to study the amounts being sought by the Israeli side; they were not allowed to officially acknowledge these sums, let alone pursue an agreement.110 Once the Israeli requests had been received and examined, the negotiations hit a wall. In a note authored on 1 April, Böhm and Küster appealed to the FRG government to officially acknowledge Israeli requests, noting that “through every delay, the ultimate moral and political effect of the accommodation will be diminished.”111 They went on to state that “it is the conviction of this delegation that the agreement on a responsibility for recompense (Wiedergutmachungspflicht) will only have a political and moral effect in the German interest if there is an impressive offer of action.”112 In a meeting on 5 April, Böhm and Abs went were at odds over the issue of acknowledging Israeli requests.113 Adenauer overruled Abs, agreeing to a statement that recognized Israeli claims, but postponed negotiations regarding what the FRG would offer as compensation until after the conclusion of the London Debt Conference. When this decision was conveyed to the Israeli delegation, the response was overwhelmingly negative—not only was the possibility that Israeli

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

131

claims would be met in full after the needs of other creditors had been satisfied very small, but such a move also placed Israeli claims on the same level as commercial debts.114 The Israeli delegation protested that “it was considered that the utterly unique and tragic background and nature of the Israel claim would bestow on it a weight which is far beyond comparison with any other German debts.”115 The Israeli side consequently stated that it would await the decision of its government as to whether negotiations should continue.116 With this began a crisis in the negotiations—the Knesset subsequently passed a resolution that negotiation would not begin again without a concrete, acceptable offer from the FRG.117 In short, when the Israeli side perceived the FRG to be violating the expectations associated with truly remorseful behavior by taking other interests into account, it called foul.

The Situation Comes to a Head Efforts to engage in the diplomacy of guilt had thus come head-to-head with other interests. In the FRG, this was mirrored in the two camps that emerged in response to the suspension of negotiations. On the one side was Abs, supported by the minister of finance, Fritz Schäfer, who opposed an agreement for financial reasons; Schäfer, in particular, viewed the possibility of taking on further financial burdens as “impossible.”118 On the other side were Böhm and Küster, who saw the importance of reaching an agreement as outweighing other economic concerns. In Böhm’s words, “Overcoming the bitterness, that the Nazi crimes have produced in Jews all over the world and in all reasonable individuals, and also the terrible blow that these crimes have delivered to the German reputation, is the most important and pressing task in German politics.”119 These debates reached a climax in late May when Böhm and Küster both tendered their resignations, citing insufficient will on the part of the FRG to pursue an agreement with Israel. The catalyst for Böhm was the decision to send Abs to London in an attempt to make an offer to the Israeli side far lower than their claims—in part due to the perception that the dire economic situation of Israel would force the Israeli side to accept.120 After resigning his post, Böhm went public, sharing his concerns with the German press. Adenauer, in a cabinet meeting shortly thereafter, described the actions of Böhm and Küster as “a step that could be feared to have serious consequences for the economic and political situation of the Federal Republic in the world,” pointing to a newspaper headline that read “German disgrace.”121 The resignations also elicited an international response—Adenauer noted that “reconciliation with Israel (regarding money) was pressed by Eden, Achenson, and McCloy.”122 In the meantime, Abs was strongly rebuffed in London by the Israeli

132

CHAPTER 4

side, which described his offer as “inadequate and out of the question.”123 Goldmann consequently wrote to Adenauer, with a copy being delivered to McCloy, that the offer made by Abs threatened the continuation of negotiations. Specifically, he noted that “the consequences of a breakdown in negotiations, that unfortunately after the offer by Mr. Abs is a very real possibility, would be unavoidable. . . . The trust in the earnest will of the new German state to engage in reconciliation (Wiedergutmachung zu leisten) would be deeply shaken.”124 Over the next few days, Israeli representatives worked to amplify this message by making U.S., British, and French officials aware of the pending collapse of negotiations.125

Embracing the Costs The FRG government was confronted with the choice of making a costly gesture to substantiate its diplomacy of guilt or abandoning it. Given concerns about the FRG image on the world stage, the former won out. Adenauer later wrote, “I was deeply concerned over the situation that had developed and immediately contacted Prof. Böhm.”126 Adenauer asked Böhm to withdraw his resignation, and instructed him to approach Goldmann with an unofficial offer that matched the original sum acknowledged by the FRG delegation—3 billion DM—spread out over a series of yearly transfers, primarily in the form of goods. Goldmann responded positively, and Böhm’s offer became the basis for further negotiations.127 Goldmann met with Adenauer a week later, at which time they released a public communiqué heralding the renewal of negotiations.128 A subsequent meeting in early June hammered out the remaining issues—including a 500 million DM payment for the Claims Conference to be added to the goods transfers to Israel— and the technical details were left to the delegations in Wassenaar to clarify.129 When the contents of the offer were presented to the FRG cabinet, Schäfer objected strongly to the financial burden.130 Adenauer, however, cited the “paramount meaning the matter had in relation to the entire Western world and especially the USA. The unsuccessful termination of the negotiations with Israel would provoke the gravest political and political-economic dangers for the Federal Republic; therefore even sizable financial sacrifices needed to be accepted in order to reach an agreement with Israel.”131 The cabinet ruled in favor of the agreement.

Signing and Ratifying By the beginning of September that year, the text of the treaty was ready. The preamble had been rewritten twenty-seven times as a compromise was sought between the strong condemnatory language favored by the Israeli side and the ac-

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

133

knowledgment desired by the FRG of the transfers as a gesture of reconciliation.132 In the end, the preamble stated both that “unspeakable criminal acts were perpetrated against the Jewish people during the National-Socialist regime of terror” and that “the Federal Government of Germany made known their determination, within the limits of their capacity, to make good the material damage caused by these acts.”133 On the morning of 10 September 1952, Adenauer, Sharett, and Goldmann assembled at the Luxembourg Rathaus in order to sign the agreement. Originally, it had been planned for each side to give a short address. Adenauer objected, however, to the strong, condemnatory elements of the Israeli draft as “old testamentlike” and stated that “I am prepared to hear that, but not Germany.”134 As a result, both sides agreed to refrain from making statements. The signing took place in an atmosphere Goldmann later described as “solemn, silent-dramatic.”135 Adenauer later wrote that “as I sat across from Minister Sharett in Luxembourg, I was deeply moved, but also happy that I at least could do something to offset the harm. Naturally, it was clear to me that this agreement only signified a symbol of reconciliation (Wiedergutmachung), that it only represented an attempt to rehabilitate Germany on this issue.”136 On 4 March 1953 Adenauer appeared before the Bundestag to speak for ratification. He justified the agreement by stating, “Clearly, not all Germans were Nazis, and there were also some Nazis that opposed the atrocities committed. Nevertheless, this act of compensation (Wiedergutmachung) by the German people is necessary. Because it was through the misuse of the German name that these crimes were committed. . . . As far as it is at all possible that something in our power can be done to overcome what happened . . . the German people has the serious and sacred duty to help, even when those of who do not personally feel guilty are called upon to sacrifice, maybe sacrifice greatly.”137 The treaty achieved a near two-thirds majority in the West German parliament. Its approval, however, was dependent upon the support of the Social Democratic opposition party—this due to the fact that many members of Adenauer’s own party withheld their vote.138 Even so, the debate was rather subdued, because with the exception of the extreme right and left, the parties wanted to avoid any comments that would jeopardize the moral appearance of the effort.139 The Luxembourg Agreement became effective on 27 March 1953. In concluding the Luxembourg Agreement, the West German government agreed to transfer in total 3.45 billion DM worth of goods and services over a period of twelve years to the State of Israel.140 Apart from iron, steel, industrial machinery and products, another significant component was crude oil, whose delivery from Great Britain the FRG had agreed to finance.141 For Israel, a state on the verge of economic collapse, the deliveries not only came as a “rescue” that

134

CHAPTER 4

kept it afloat, but also allowed it to develop a modern, high-quality infrastructure and industrial base at an extraordinarily rapid pace.142 Among other things, the FRG “virtually built Israel’s commercial fleet”; “supplied around one-quarter of the total investment in power installations” between 1954 and 1961; and “supplied one-half of all railway investment” between 1954 and 1959.143 As Kenneth Lewan notes, “There can be no doubt that these various basic development projects did more than enhance the recipient’s immediate economic well-being; the striking advances in electric power, transportation, communications, iron and steel production, and so forth could not fail to strengthen Israel’s military capacity.”144

Explaining the Luxembourg Agreement With the end of World War II, the FRG officials found themselves, in the words of a Bundestag representative, surrounded by “walls of hate, contempt, and rejection.”145 In response, the FRG government saw itself as needing to project a different image of its state that would enable its rehabilitation. In spite of the fact that FRG officials consequently decided to undertake actions that were relatively unprecedented within international relations, there nevertheless would seem to have been clear expectations and understandings guiding the behavior of FRG officials. The argument of this chapter is that these reflected a basic, implicit model of remorseful behav ior applied to the state level: the diplomacy of guilt. FRG undersecretary for the Foreign Ministry, Walter Hallstein, when describing the agreement with Israel to the German press tellingly used the analogy of a criminal returning to society.146 FRG officials similarly saw themselves as seeking to facilitate the return of their state to “the family of nations.” In this context, Israel symbolized both the most obvious representative of Nazi victims as well as the strongest opponent to FRG reintegration. Consequently, as Adenauer later noted, “It was clear to me, that if the Federal Government was able to reach a settlement with Israel and international Jewish organizations, that it would be a political accomplishment for the Federal Republic of Germany that at the very least would be on the same level as the General Treaty and European Defense Community.”147 This was not a typical agreement, however. First of all, there was a specific rhetoric associated with the agreement—the expressive component of the image the FRG was seeking to project. On the one hand were the declarations made by Adenauer and other officials renouncing the Holocaust and expressing shame. This was epitomized by Adenauer’s 1951 statement in front of the Bundestag, but also replicated many times subsequently. For example, on the day the Luxembourg Agreement was ratified Hallstein an-

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

135

nounced to the press, “We cannot undo the actions of the past. But we can show the world that we are ashamed (schämen).”148 All the same, these statements were constrained by concern about possible domestic backlash. For instance, Adenauer’s 1951 declaration was much weaker than statements he had made in private. Indeed, when justifying the agreement with Israel to the party committee of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) in 1952, Adenauer stated, “Even when we, and I mean our circle, did not participate in the atrocities of Nazism perpetrated on the Jews, a considerable part of the German people participated, and not only actively participated, a certain percent also became rich through it. We cannot ignore this fact.”149 As FRG foreign policy advisor Blankenhorn subsequently admitted regarding Adenauer’s declaration, “it could not have been done by simply issuing a declaration admitting German guilt and perhaps also expressing readiness to compensate the Jewish people . . . as it would have been disastrous for Germany’s standing in the world had objections been voiced.”150 FRG officials therefore sought to use a language that projected an image of guilt—demonstrating a rejection of the past and remorse for what occurred— while avoiding terms that would suggest the controversial “collective guilt thesis.” This was done by describing Nazi actions as being “in the German name,” speaking of “a moral responsibility,” and invoking Heuss’s conception of “collective shame.” In this manner, FRG officials navigated between Israeli demands for stronger declarations of guilt and fear of a domestic reaction that would derail the image they hoped to project. On the other hand was the language used to describe the act of compensation itself—Wiedergutmachung (lit. “to make good again” as noted above), a term also associated with the discourse of guilt. Jelenik further observes that the word Sühne or “atonement” was frequently deployed in discussion of the agreement, stating that “atonement means apart from remorse for past sins also betterment and reparation, or with other words to make good again (Wiedergutmachung).”151 This rhetoric sought to give the transfers of aid special meaning as an act of remorse and reconciliation, and not simply payments for damage. Adenauer in particular was very intent on preserving the former framing. In one meeting he even emphasized, “We have to be careful that the Israeli delegates do not deceive us. It is not about reparations. It is about an act of reconciliation (Versöhnung).”152 Adenauer’s point was that the FRG needed to preserve the depiction of the material transfers as a freely chosen gesture of atonement acknowledged by the Israeli side and not a response to Israeli demands. Apart from rhetoric, there was also a symbolic performative element. This can be seen, for instance, in the emotional conduct of participants at key

136

CHAPTER 4

junctures—such as the solemn behav ior that accompanied Adenauer’s 1951 announcement in the Bundestag, the initiation of negotiations, or the signing ceremony. Moreover, FRG officials saw themselves as compelled to avoid the impression that the agreement was subject to normal politics. For example, Adenauer at one point expressed the hope that “the cabinet does not cause me any major problems . . . should it do so, that would signify a foreign policy catastrophe of the first degree.”153 It is in this sense that the public resignations of Böhm and Küster created a political crisis that forced Adenauer to act. By exposing the political debates about the agreement, they threatened to dispel the image that the agreement was a unanimous act of freewill and sacrifice. Finally, there was the material compensation itself—the substantive component of the image. This was meant to demonstrate the sincerity of FRG remorse. Adenauer himself outlined this logic quite succinctly, stating, “The parliament has repeatedly in unanimous resolutions made proclamations of remorse regarding the outrages against the Jews. . . . Words are cheap. Words also need to be followed by actions.”154 The material transfer was costly, both materially and politically— as Hallstein stated, “this really is a burden that we are taking on . . . but also on top of that is that the issue was tainted with certain risks, risks which include the whole problem with the issue of relations to Arab states.”155 But as Böhm noted in a letter to Adenauer during the negotiations, “Should we not manage to reach an agreement in the Haag that is viewed by our negotiating partners and serious world opinion as evidence that Germany went to the limits of its capabilities . . . then the political, moral, and economic meaning of this agreement would be put in question.”156 Together, all this served to project an image of guilt and remorse, conveying that the FRG was a reformed state. Many states give foreign aid or engage in material transfers—what differentiated the material component of FRG behav ior from other forms of aid or even reparations was the meaning it was given by the rhetorical and symbolic signals in which it was couched. Certainly, there were moral considerations behind the desire to project this image. Adenauer, for one, repeatedly emphasized the moral nature of the agreement.157 And there were particular individuals, such as Böhm and Küster, who believed reparations were the proper thing to do. In fact, it was often those who had been opponents of the Nazi regime, such as Böhm, that were most likely to push for the FRG to assume the costs of an agreement. This is also why Böhm and Küster were chosen to be involved to represent the face of the new Germany in the first place. Nothing here is meant to suggest that well-meaning individuals were not involved, or that Adenauer himself did not genuinely see a moral element to the reparations.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

137

But such factors are insufficient to explain the decision fully and certainly were not given consistent pride of place in internal deliberations. FRG officials in internal discussions and correspondence repeatedly cited the political consequences of the agreement in terms of its success or failure. The political nature of the agreement lay in the impact it would have on external observers of the FRG. Indeed, the resignations of Böhm and Küster arguably were effective in spurring action on the part of Adenauer precisely because they threatened the political benefits of the agreement. Specifically, FRG officials were concerned both about the perceptions of “international Jewry” as well as a larger and more amorphous “Western world” or “world opinion.”158 In internal party discussions, for example, Adenauer stated, “We should be clear, that the power of Jewry (Judentum) is extremely strong, as much now as before, so that this . . . reconciliation with Jewry as well as from a moral perspective as from a political perspective, as also from an economic perspective, is an absolute necessity for the Federal Republic.”159 More broadly, however, was also the notion that the FRG needed to change its image in order to be accepted by “world opinion” and “re-admitted to the family of nations.” In the words of Blankenhorn, the agreement was “to serve to overcome the great bitterness that the Nazi crimes had caused in Jews all over the world and also in all reasonable individuals.”160 These expectations concerning what was required of the FRG, as well as what effects the agreement would have, were also shared by outside parties, including Israeli, U.S., and British officials. Dean Acheson, the U.S. secretary of state, in a memorandum for President Harry S. Truman stated that “the German government is aware of the U.S. position that the German people have taken on the inescapable moral burden of compensating the victims of Nazi persecution, and this responsibility, so long as it remains unfulfilled, will heavily impede the reentry of the German nation into the circle of free peoples.”161 The British government similarly linked the agreement to “its firm interest in the integration of West Germany into the West European community of states.”162 The Israeli side, for its part, saw its acceptance of FRG offers of compensation as aiding the return of the FRG to the international community. In a meeting with Israeli officials, for instance, Goldmann expressly stated that what the Israeli government could offer was “political rehabilitation of Germany in return for a solution to the question of restitution.”163 From the above, it would appear that all sides were acting quite strategically. FRG officials sought the political benefits of rehabilitation, while the Israeli side desired the economic support an agreement would provide. The United States and United Kingdom also wanted the FRG to improve its relationship with Israel, but in the words of Josephthal, the head of the Israeli delegation, their

138

CHAPTER 4

attitude was, “just wind up this matter with the Jews, and try to see it does not cost too much.”164 The question all this raises is: how do the motives and outcomes described above—particularly in relation to the behav ior of FRG officials—differ from traditional forms of statecraft? The answer is that while these actors were behaving strategically, their expectations and strategies only make sense within a framework of expectations and understandings based on an implicit model of guilt behav ior. In other words, the actors involved shared particular understandings of how the FRG could project an image that would function to rehabilitate it on the international stage. These understandings seemed self-evident to these actors, but in no way do notions of states as egotistical actors pursuing security or economic interests tell us why this would be so. In fact, given that the FRG was undertaking a significantly unprecedented gesture on the international stage, the relative unanimity of expectations is remarkable. To explain this historical episode, one has to refer to the shared model of guilt behav ior that formed the “rules of the game” so to speak. These rules included the common expectations pertaining to the belief that the FRG should provide some sort of compensation and that that it needed to do so in a way that rhetorically, perfomatively, and substantively demonstrated remorse. Only in this manner did FRG officials believe that they would attain the sought-after political benefits. The argument here is that these rules were analogically derived from an implicit model of behav ior associated with the emotion of guilt. Indeed, both in terms of expressive and substantive gestures, there is a strong correspondence between the image FRG officials sought to project and what one would expect from a “remorseful, guilty actor” seeking to redeem itself. What is more, Adenauer and others within the FRG leadership valued adhering to a diplomacy of guilt over other traditional concerns, such as the domestic economic costs of the agreement or the damage it would cause to the FRG’s political and economic relations in the Middle East. These were not minor issues, to which the strong opposition voiced by Schäffer and others within the FRG attests. Nevertheless, the fact that undertaking a “gesture of reconciliation” was valued higher demonstrates calculations one would not expect from traditional understandings of state conduct. In sum, FRG officials sought the political rehabilitation of their state; their efforts were relatively unprecedented, and yet they, their Israeli interlocutors, and outside parties such as the United States and the United Kingdom all had relatively clear ideas of what image was required for this purpose. The FRG sought to engage in—indeed was expected to engage in—a diplomacy of guilt. This explains the ways in which rhetoric, symbolic behav ior, and material compensation were combined with the aim of altering external perceptions. Again, none

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

139

of this is to claim that the actors involved were not at times acting strategically. All the same, this strategy cannot be understood without the shared model of guilt behav ior that formed the framework of implicit expectations and understandings within which it was operative—a traditional approach lacking this background of shared ideas about natural emotional behav ior would have expected the FRG to privilege its domestic economy and its relations with other states in the Middle East.

Bullets Instead of Ambassadors: FRG Weapons for Israel The ratification of the Luxembourg Agreement ushered in a significant change in the quality of relations between the FRG and Israel. As early as May 1953 an internal memo of the German Press Agency (DPA) reported that “the internal Position of Israel to the German Federal Republic and to Germans has gone through a decisive change in the last months.”165 According to the report, this positive change was in no small part due to both the agreement and the resolve of the FRG government in the face of Arab opposition. For the FRG, this did not end its diplomacy of guilt toward Israel. Quite the contrary, it was the first step in cementing specific norms of interaction and obligations between the two states. In this section I address the second puzzle: the choice of the FRG to supply Israel with arms. Here too we can see the dynamics of a diplomacy of guilt at work. FRG weapons transfers were substantive gestures borne of a continuing adherence to a diplomacy of guilt. What is interesting in this period, however, is that these substantive gestures were provided secretly in order to avoid backlash from Arab states. This policy was made possible by the fact that Israeli officials apprised of this cooperation were publicly active in proclaiming that the FRG was indeed a repentant and reformed actor.

Background Originally, FRG officials had hoped that conclusion of the Luxembourg Agreement would be coupled with diplomatic recognition on the part of Israel. An exchange of ambassadors at the time of ratification would have served both to further improve the image of the FRG internationally as well as prevent a future round of conflict with Arab states.166 Over the course of the Wassenaar negotiations, however, it had become clear that the Israeli side was not ready to accept an immediate normalization of the relationship. FRG officials thus resigned themselves to waiting for the Israeli side to signal its willingness, while realizing that the

140

CHAPTER 4

process required time. As Adenauer stated when speaking before the FRG parliament during the ratification process, “We have the legitimate hope that the conclusion of this agreement will lead to an entirely new relationship between the Jewish and German peoples as also to the normalization of relations between the Federal Republic and the State of Israel. We will, after all that has happened, show patience and need to trust in the effect of our willingness to make amends and ultimately the healing power of time.”167 As a result, the immediate period following the Luxembourg Agreement was marked by a FRG interest in diplomatic relations and an Israeli disinclination toward the same. The Israeli government did, however, for the purpose of executing the Luxembourg Agreement, establish a mission in Cologne. Although primarily tasked with coordinating the flow of goods and services from the FRG to Israel, it also took on the role of political representation, and the head of the mission, Felix Shinnar, enjoyed significant access to leading FRG policymakers. In other words, Israel was not necessarily disadvantaged by the arrangement. Still, the international political environment was not static, and as time passed the Israeli side began to see not only the greater potential of benefits from moving toward full diplomatic relations, but also the possible risks of continued resistance. In 1955, the Israeli director for public affairs, Dr. Chaim Yachil, wrote a memo in favor of establishing full diplomatic relations with the FRG given its economic status and place within the international hierarchy of power.168 He further voiced concerns that the FRG position toward full relations might shift due to “Arab propaganda” and even the pressure of American interests, by which was meant the U.S. wish for the FRG to maintain good relations with the other states in the Middle East. What is more, he noted that the FRG “no longer required a pass from us to encounter good will in the West.”169 He therefore made an appeal for public relations efforts to steer Israeli domestic opinion in favor of an exchange of ambassadors in the near future before the tide changed. By the beginning of 1956, the Israeli government had indeed shifted toward an interest in formalizing relations with the FRG. On 27 January 1956, Shinnar conveyed to FRG foreign minister Heinrich von Brentano the Israeli cabinet’s decision to incrementally pursue political relations.170 In practice, this meant the intention of first establishing a mission or consular relations, with the eventual goal of a full diplomatic exchange. Yachil’s concerns about a change in FRG intentions, however, revealed themselves to prescient. Responding to Shinnar, Brentano voiced worries about possible “Arab blackmail” and thus replied that further consultation was necessary before he could provide a definitive answer.171 Specifically, in using the term “blackmail,” Brentano was referring to the possibility that the states of the Arab League would recognize the FRG’s eastern counterpart, the GDR, in retaliation. The FRG opposed any foreign actions that

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

141

would cement the separation of Germany into two states, and foremost among such actions was third-party diplomatic recognition of the GDR. Following Adenauer’s visit to the Soviet Union in 1955 (in order to facilitate the return of German prisoners of war), FRG officials feared that other states would take the visit as a relaxation of the FRG stance. As a result, the FRG publicly announced what later came to be known as the “Hallstein Doctrine”—that the FRG would cut off relations with any state that recognized the GDR. The problem was that this doctrine acted as a double-edged sword. The FRG government did not want to break off relations with Arab states and was afraid of an international domino effect should the latter extend recognition to the GDR en masse. Consequently, Arab states were able to turn the Hallstein Doctrine on its head to threaten the FRG with a massive setback of both its unification policy and position in the Middle East should it take steps toward formalizing relations with Israel.172 In this manner, a core interest of the FRG—maintaining its position as the sole representative of the German nation—came into direct conflict with its commitment to Israel. Although Brentano did eventually reply to Shinnar with a letter that expressed interest in “establishing an administrative office in Israel that— mutatis mutandis—would be equivalent to the Israel mission,” the FRG government soon backpedaled even from that modest proposal.173 A crucial turning point in this process was the FRG ambassadorial conference in Istanbul during the first week of April 1956. During the conference, FRG diplomats forcefully repeated an assessment that had already been circulating in their internal reports to the Foreign Ministry: that the states of the Arab League would recognize the GDR should the FRG seek to formalize relations with Israel. Hallstein, secretary of state in the Foreign Ministry, emphasized at the meeting that “all the reasons, that led us to enter into the Israel-Agreement—I do not want to go into the very serious question belonging to history—today have no small weight: it has to do with the liquidation of a very difficult past.”174 But he faced a plethora of German diplomats who argued in converse that the Arab states would view such action by the FRG as “a stab in the back” and the ensuing backlash would be devastating to FRG efforts to isolate the GDR and maintain a foothold in the Middle East.175 As a result, Hallstein returned from the conference dissuaded from the idea that the FRG should establish a mission in Israel. Meeting with Shinnar on 14 May 1956, Hallstein apologized that the FRG would not be able to fulfill its promise given two months earlier, citing fears of Arab backlash and growing Soviet influence in the Middle East.176 An Israeli Foreign Ministry memorandum written shortly afterward made the following conclusion: “Bonn declares its ongoing interest in relations to Israel, but is not prepared to pay the price. . . . The emphasis on guilt is no longer a significant factor in the German relations to Israel.”177

142

CHAPTER 4

The FRG Moves toward Military Aid The Israeli Foreign Ministry memo was correct in the first assessment, but arguably quite mistaken in the second. But instead of German obligations manifesting themselves in diplomatic relations, they were manifested in arms. On 27 December 1957, the general director of the Israeli Ministry of Defense, Shimon Peres, secretly traveled to Germany to meet with the FRG defense minister, Franz Josef Strauss.178 As Strauss later stated, “I had made up my mind that good cooperation between Israel and the Federal Republic would be a significant contribution to overcoming the past. That is not only in the sense of reconciliation—but also in the sense of a re-acknowledgement of Germany in the circle of peoples, in the sense also of esteem and respect for the Federal Republic being seen as an equal state in the context of contemporary world politics.”179 Peres, writing later about the meeting, stated he proposed that “Germany would be taking a far-sighted step in building bridges to the past if she would help us with arms without requiring either money or anything else in exchange. . . . Mr. Strauss readily agreed.”180 Military cooperation subsequently grew to encompass multiple dimensions. First and foremost was the outright transfer of arms. Peres writes, “Within only a few months of our first meeting, very valuable equipment began to reach the Israeli army. . . . We obtained ammunition, training devices, helicopters, spare parts, and many other items.”181 Second, the FRG also participated in the training of Israeli soldiers. In the beginning this took the form of permission and support for French training on German soil; later, the Bundeswehr was directly involved, training paratroopers, artillery officers, and tank officers.182 Finally, the FRG also indirectly supported the Israeli defense effort by openly directing acquisitions orders in its direction. Large FRG purchases of Israeli-made arms material, such as the Uzi submachine gun, helped not only to support the nascent Israeli arms industry, but also to provide the State of Israel with much needed foreign currency. Strauss later stated that the choice of Israel as a weapons supplier was motivated by “political considerations.”183 Werner Knieper, head of the armaments section in the FRG Ministry of Defense, put it more directly: “Our attempt to give Israel preference in the purchase of weapons for the Bundeswehr was an exception.”184 Any and all military transfers directly imperiled FRG efforts to maintain friendly relations with other Middle Eastern states and represented a large potential danger for its policy of excluding the GDR from a political role in the region. Moreover, this policy was in direct contradiction to the public statements of the Foreign Ministry, which announced that the FRG would not deliver weapons to Israel or any other areas of tension.185 The FRG dealt with this by keeping the shipments secret.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

143

In the late 1950s, the FRG government would repeatedly return to the question of establishing relations with Israel, only to pull back out of concern for Arab backlash—a threat that was amplified by dispatches from FRG diplomats in the Middle East.186 So while officially the FRG refrained from formalizing relations for fear of Arab retaliation, behind the scenes—and known only to a very few top members of both governments—a covert relationship of military assistance was well underway. Ben-Gurion, who was well appraised of this cooperation, did his part both inside the Israeli government and publicly to describe the FRG in positive terms. For instance, in an internal executive council meeting of the Mapai party, without outlining details, Ben-Gurion defended the FRG saying, “Despite the lack of diplomatic relations between us and Germany, Germany has helped Israel on the political level. This help and political friendship has great importance.”187 Peres, as well, took on the role of “representative of the Federal Republic” and pushed the message that “this land has changed, the days of the aggressive Germany are over, Hitler and his militarism are gone.”188

Further Impetus for Military Aid: The FRG’s Image Threatened Military cooperation would deepen even further when, starting December 1959, the international image of the FRG as a reformed actor encountered a period of setbacks. The FRG’s troubles began when two young right extremists painted antiJewish graffiti on a synagogue in Cologne, setting off a series of copycat crimes across West Germany.189 The GDR not only took advantage of these crimes to launch a propaganda attack on the FRG as still harboring Nazi elements, but may even have been directly involved in some of the incidents.190 The FRG government immediately denounced the crimes—Adenauer personally gave a radio and television announcement declaring them a “disgrace” and calling upon Germans to “beat up” anyone they caught in the middle of such acts.191 The Bundestag also passed additional laws against racist and Nazi “incitement” and called for further educational measures.192 In order to deal with this damage, FRG officials again looked to their relations with Israel. At this time, there were a number of voices in the FRG that suggested normalization with Israel as a means of neutralizing the effect of the incidents. An internal memo authored by the Israeli ambassador to Brussels mirrored this logic, suggesting that the Israeli Foreign Ministry “use the weak position, in which the Adenauer government at this time finds itself, to shift the question of relations onto the right track,” particularly by encouraging international pressure behind the scenes on the image of the FRG.193 However, the Israeli government, or more specifically Ben-Gurion, chose to take a different approach.

144

CHAPTER 4

Both Ben-Gurion and Adenauer had plans to visit the United States during March 1960, and following the graffiti incidents, the respective heads of state agreed to arrange a “chance” meeting at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. For Adenauer, a meeting with Ben-Gurion offered the opportunity to counteract the damage done by neo-Nazi actions in the FRG. As Markus Weingardt notes, “therewith signaled Ben-Gurion first to the Jews (especially in America, whose influence Adenauer so broadly estimated), then the U.S. government, with whom Adenauer wanted to meet, but also the entire world public that he had goodwill toward and trust in the government and people of this ‘new,’ ‘changed’ Germany.”194 Ben-Gurion, in return, viewed the meeting as a chance to solicit FRG assistance and aid, particularly given the approaching conclusion of the transfers stemming from the Luxembourg Agreement. As Ben-Gurion privately stated before the meeting, “The [diplomatic] relations do not bother me. I think two issues are important: that the Germans in the next ten years invest a quarter million dollars in our industry and that they deliver to us weapons.”195 The meeting, which took place on 14 March, lasted less than two hours. BenGurion began by discussing the consequences of the Holocaust for Israel, which he stated had deprived the state of people needed for its development. He continued that “on the basis of the historical responsibility, that the German people have for the crimes that occurred in their name for the development of the state of Israel, they should help the survivors in the construction of a new, peaceful life.”196 In concrete terms, Ben-Gurion requested that the FRG provide a decadelong extension of credit in yearly sums of $50 million for the development of the Negev desert. Furthermore, he asked for Adenauer’s support for military aid, discussing submarines and rockets, and inquiring if Strauss would continue to enjoy the chancellor’s support for his efforts.197 For both, Adenauer answered in the affirmative. Absent from the discussion was any mention by either side of diplomatic relations. Coming out of the meeting, Ben-Gurion again spoke in favor of the new FRG, declaring, “I have said . . . that the Germany of today is not the Germany of yesterday. After my meeting today with the Chancellor, I am convinced that this judgment was correct.”198 In this manner, Ben-Gurion gave his support to the image of the FRG as a new state in spite of its recent spate of anti-Semitic incidents. He thereby gave Adenauer a political boost prior to his meetings with U.S. officials. In short, when FRG officials found their state’s image once again threatened, they sought Israeli assistance in mitigating the damage. The interaction was choreographed according to a diplomacy of guilt. Ben-Gurion reiterated the suffering of the past, and Adenauer responded with substantive gestures of assistance. Consequently, Ben-Gurion publicly reaffirmed the FRG’s status as a reformed actor.

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

145

The FRG would have further cause to be grateful for Ben-Gurion’s support as a second possible challenge to its image emerged shortly afterward. On 23 May 1960, the Israeli government announced that it had captured Adolf Eichmann in Argentina and would be putting him on trial. Eichmann was one of the “desk criminals” of the Nazi era, a bureaucrat responsible for organizing and facilitating the Holocaust. The news was greeted with apprehension in the FRG. For one, FRG officials harbored broad fears that it would remind the world of Germany’s Nazi-era past. A memo authored by Brentano at the time is instructive both in terms of the concerns it outlines, as well as the strategies suggested for dealing with possible fallout from the trial. He writes, “The Eichmann trail will give a boost to all foreign forces that view Germany or the Federal Republic with mistrust and resentment. . . . Damage to the image of the Federal Republic is feared.”199 The necessary response, he states, is “to make clear internationally, that the Germany of today, represented by the Federal Republic, is no longer the Germany of Hitler. I request especially that care be given, that the remarkable number of our positive actions (reparations, persecution of Nazi crimes, education of the public and especially the youth about the Third Reich, help for Israel, etc.) be made known to foreign publics in an impressive manner.”200 Second, the FRG side had more specific worries about unexpected revelations that might emerge to taint current FRG officials. In particular, rumors at the time pointed to the possible implication of Hans Globke—a high-ranking advisor to Adenauer, who had never possessed Nazi Party membership, but had authored legal opinions on the Nuremburg race laws.201 Globke had been an ongoing target of attacks from the East Block, and his proximity to Adenauer made him a particularly useful tool for propaganda.202 FRG concerns on this issue, however, were misplaced. An internal Israeli document describing a meeting between Shinnar and an unnamed Israeli official reveals both that Eichmann had in fact been interrogated early on to vet the risk he posed to Globke (he had no recollection of Globke) and, furthermore, that the Israeli side would seek to make it difficult for Eichmann’s defense to use Globke to shift focus onto the FRG.203 Indeed, for the FRG the Eichmann trial turned out to be much less damaging than had been feared. The Israeli side played no small role in ensuring that the process focused on the individual of Eichmann and did not become a propaganda piece against the FRG.204 During the trial, Ben-Gurion repeatedly sought to separate Eichmann from the FRG. For instance, in an interview for the Deutsche Zeitung, he stated, “My views regarding today’s Germany have not changed. Nazi-Germany no longer exists . . . . I have faith in the moral commitments taken by Dr. Adenauer and other leading personages in today’s Germany.”205 The Israeli prosecution also called upon individuals such as Heinrich Grüber, a nonJewish German who had been persecuted for assisting Jews, to testify, thereby

146

CHAPTER 4

demonstrating that not all Germans had supported the Nazis.206 The FRG, for its part, used the opportunity to emphasize its efforts at reconciliation and the changing attitudes of its public in the face of German reporting on the trial.207 Behind the scenes, the FRG economic and military assistance continued apace. But both, as noted above, remained secret out of fear of Arab retaliation. Even within the FRG internal accounts, these efforts were hidden behind codenames. Economic aid was given the ambiguous label “Operation Business Friend” (Aktion Geschäftsfreund) and kept at levels just under those requiring parliamentary oversight.208 The weapons deliveries, which had increased both in quality and quantity after a further agreement in 1962, received the codename “Frank/Kol,” short for “French colonies.”209 Military cooperation under this title involved a number of ruses. In some instances, weapons systems bought in third countries were shipped directly to Israel, whereupon the bill was sent to operatives in the FRG; in other instances, weapons from the FRG were secretly transferred between ships in third-country ports; or in the case of planes, flown into third countries by German pilots and then flown out—after being repainted—by Israeli ones.210 As Strauss later revealed in his memoirs, some equipment and weapons for Israel taken from Bundeswehr weapons depots were even intentionally reported to the police as stolen in order to provide cover.211 In short, there was a significant degree of support flowing from the FRG to Israel, none of which could be publicly acknowledged.

Pushing the Limits This approach was not without its problems, however. While the FRG could depend upon the public statements of individuals such as Ben-Gurion and Peres to bolster its image as a reformed actor, it was unable to openly defend itself from accusations—both international and, increasingly, domestic—that it was not doing enough to assist Israel given the events of the past. Although the FRG officially maintained a rhetoric of remorse and responsibility, there was little visible evidence of this in its policies apart from a decade-old agreement. Against this background, the lack of diplomatic relations was a particular irritant. The tension between the visible and covert elements of the FRG-Israeli relationship can be observed in the ambiguous response of Ludwig Erhard, who replaced Adenauer as chancellor in 1963, to a question about Israeli relations during his first press conference. He stated, “Our relationship to Israel is less characterized and marked by the establishment of diplomatic relations than the responsibility of the German people and also the practical assistance for all that which arises from the German debt (Schuld) to the Jewish people.”212

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

147

This problematic tension was exacerbated by FRG paralysis in the face of two very public controversies. The first revolved around a group of German scientists who, of their own initiative, had become involved in the Egyptian missile program. Measures by the FRG to create legal sanctions against such behav ior soon became mired in concerns about the constitutionality of restricting freedom of movement, the difficulties in defining and proving illegal military assistance, and the problems that such a law would present for scientific cooperation with other countries, including Israel.213 The second controversy to trouble the FRG-Israeli relationship concerned the statute of limitations for crimes committed during the Nazi era. Internationally—meaning in particular states that had suffered under Nazi rule, Israel, and Jewish-American lobbying groups—the idea that Nazi criminals would be allowed to escape persecution evoked strong protest.214 At first, in November 1964, the FRG government chose to allow the statute of limitations to remain in place, but under strong international pressure elected to postpone the decision pending an appeal to other states to provide documents related to unprosecuted Nazi crimes. By the second half of 1964, the publicly visible side of FRG-Israeli relations was increasingly strained by the ongoing absence of diplomatic relations, inaction on the part of the FRG regarding German scientists in Egypt, and the possibility that the FRG would not extend the statute of limitations for Nazi-era murders. This is captured in a report by a senior FRG bureaucrat written at the end of 1964, who noted that for the above reasons, “Relations between the Federal Republic and Israel, which since the conclusion of the reparations agreement of 10 September 1952 were at first developing with promise, recently have become quite cool, if not actually poor.”215 At the same time, in direct contrast to the publicly visible side of their relations (and thus arguably preventing a full breakdown), FRG military aid to Israel was reaching a new level of intensity. Following a 1962 meeting between Peres and Adenauer, the FRG had become engaged in supplying Israel with “helicopters, transport planes, anti-aircraft artillery, howitzers, patrol boats, submarines, and anti-tank rockets.”216 Starting in 1964, the United States also became involved. When first informed of the weapons deliveries, U.S. officials had not been particularly supportive, fearing their impact on the FRG position in the Middle East. By 1964, however, the U.S. side was encouraging the FRG to supply Israel with additional weapons in the form of tanks. Specifically, U.S. officials wanted the weapons transferred not only to maintain a Middle Eastern balance, but also to encourage Israeli acquiescence to U.S. arms sales to Jordan and plans to negotiate Middle Eastern conflicts over water resources.217 But U.S. officials were also worried about preserving the appearance of neutrality in the region. Consequently,

148

CHAPTER 4

the United States exerted pressure on the FRG to secretly supply Israel with the tanks so that the United States would not have to, invoking among other things the FRG’s “moral responsibility.”218 The FRG side assented and soon was clandestinely transporting tank chasses to Italy where they would be rerouted to Israel. The FRG government was fully entrenched in a grand subterfuge. By mid-1964, Arab diplomats had already brought up rumors of German arms shipments to Israel in their discussions with FRG diplomats.219 FRG policy was to “strongly deny” any such reports, fearing the damage they could do to FRG standing in the Middle East.220 Despite various missteps—such as a column of trucks transporting tanks becoming wedged in a tunnel while crossing the Alps—these denunciations were sufficient to shield FRG-Israeli military cooperation from Arab backlash.221

Explaining FRG Arms Transfers to Israel With the successful ratification of the Luxembourg Agreement, the FRG had managed to present a different image of itself on the international stage, and in the subsequent years it would repeatedly refer back to the agreement as evidence of its new status. Far from being the end of the FRG’s commitments to Israel, however, the Luxembourg Agreement enshrined a diplomacy of guilt vis-à-vis Israel as part of the FRG’s foreign policy. It set the basis and structure for what would become a set of informal norms in the relationship, norms grounded in an implicit model of guilt behav ior. Granted, the FRG commitment to these norms would at times fluctuate both with the strength of competing interests and ongoing concerns about its image. But while FRG officials may have sought to construct delicate balancing acts, the diplomacy of guilt remained an important part of their foreign policy. In comparison to the earlier period, two factors were at work in lessening the imperative for FRG officials of projecting an image of guilt by cultivating relations with Israel. The first were the perceptions—held by both FRG and Israeli officials—that acceptance of the FRG in the international community was growing, and that soon the FRG would be less dependent on Israeli approval. The second was the intensification of the struggle between the FRG and GDR for international recognition, one that gave the Arab states significant leverage over the former. FRG officials perceived the prevention of GDR diplomatic successes to be a core national interest, and the members of the Arab League were able to use this to their advantage. Importantly, at no point during this period did the FRG abandon its diplomacy of guilt toward Israel—it negotiated, balanced, attempted to square its di-

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

149

plomacy of guilt with other interests, yes, but it never abandoned it. Once initiated, the implicit expectations that the FRG would play the role of repentant actor toward Israel in order to receive acknowledgment that it was reformed—and thus that there continued to exist an ongoing responsibility and debt—became an important structuring factor in the relationship. So much so that the FRG engaged in the very precarious business of secretly providing financial and military aid to Israel to compensate for the lack of diplomatic relations. FRG officials put much at risk with their choice to provide covert aid to Israel: their political competition with the GDR, their political and economic standing in the Middle East, and even their domestic position. But they preferred this to stepping away from relations with Israel and forsaking the image that they had cultivated. Moreover, FRG officials were especially willing to submit to such obligations when their state’s image was threatened. This is evident in Adenauer’s 1960 meeting with BenGurion. It was the graffiti incidents that created the impetus for this “chance” encounter. A critic might here argue that the aid and weapons deals were therefore simply a “payoff” to Israel in return for political cover. This, perhaps, would come closest to a traditional explanation for FRG behav ior. However, I would argue that this would be a gross oversimplification—if not outright mischaracterization— of the historical evidence. Instead, with the ratification of the Luxembourg Agreement an implicit model of guilt behavior was inaugurated as the basis for the norms of the relationship, with each side occupying a particular role attached to specific, but generally unspoken, obligations. For the FRG, its role was to persist in an ongoing diplomacy of guilt buttressed with continuing substantive gestures, even if the latter were not public. Indeed, Strauss justified the initial weapons transfers in exactly this idiom—“a contribution to overcoming the past”—and the Israeli side pushed for further assistance by citing that same logic. In the most private and closed of meetings between Adenauer and Ben-Gurion, it was still the discourse of victimization and reconciliation that the Israeli leader employed. Even the United States, when pressing the FRG to take over further deliveries of tanks, invoked the FRG’s “moral responsibility.” The continuing use of such discourse and reasoning, even in highly secret settings, points to something more than a simple bribe. The weapons transfers were not a direct payoff, but rather flowed from the obligations entailed in a sustained diplomacy of guilt, expected not only by Israel, but also by the United States. This is a fine distinction, but an important one, for at its heart is the significance of unspoken guidelines for the relationship. As for the Israeli side, its part was to openly acknowledge the FRG as a reformed actor, so long as the FRG performed the role satisfactorily. The FRG had to persist in a policy of remorse and its associated commitments or otherwise the Israeli side would cry foul. The material

150

CHAPTER 4

consequences of this were not insignificant. As Buettner notes, “No one at the time could have known that the arms delivered by Germany . . . were going to play an important role in the Six-Day War of June 1967.”222

The Path to Normalization From the beginning, officials in the FRG Foreign Ministry—or at least the few officials that were appraised of the weapons transfers—had strongly opposed military cooperation with Israel, fearing a breach of secrecy that could topple their policy in the Middle East.223 In the second half of 1964, their fears would be realized, precipitating a crisis. How do we explain what happened? As one might expect, as the backlash mounted in the Arab states, FRG officials quickly sought to extricate themselves from their arms deals with Israel. But they soon found that this was difficult to do without causing harm to their international image, especially among Jewish groups in the United States. The diplomacy of guilt had become entrenched in external expectations toward the FRG-Israeli relationship. The result was that the FRG eventually chose normalization of diplomatic relations with Israel coupled with additional economic aid. In other words, the outcome was a resolution of the crisis in Israel’s favor.

“A Very Serious Crisis” On 23 October 1964, an Egyptian newspaper (and then three days later also a German newspaper) pushed FRG-Israeli military cooperation into the open, exposing both the weapons deliveries and the presence of German nuclear scientists in Israel.224 The Israeli side quickly rejected the reports and urged the FRG to do likewise.225 FRG officials were hesitant to openly lie to their domestic public and, moreover, concerned that disclaiming the truth would simply cause additional problems as further details emerged.226 In short, FRG officials no longer perceived denial as possible, but they had no clear policy on what should follow. The situation suddenly thrust FRG policy in the Middle East into, in the words of Ministerial Director Josef Jansen, “a very serious crisis.”227 In his report on the state of FRG-Arab relations, he wrote that “the facts that have become publicly known stand too much in contradiction to all the official and half-official statements of the last few years . . . that we do not provide weapons to areas of tension. The credibility of our ambassadors and the FRG has been shaken.”228 FRG foreign minister Gerhard Schröder similarly wrote that reports about the weapons “have led to very strong agitation in the Arab world and hostile actions against us.”229

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

151

On 22 November the president of the German parliament, Eugen Gerstenmaier, traveled to Cairo to meet with the Egyptian leader Gamal Abdel Nasser in an attempt to find a way out of the crisis. On the one hand, Gerstenmaier sought to gain Nasser’s understanding for the “deep feeling of disgrace” felt in Germany visà-vis the Jewish people.230 On the other hand, he also asked Nasser to help to draw a “line under the past.”231 He elaborated that this “would mean for the Germans they would be freed from the fact that the general feeling of guilt towards Israel . . . is even more intensified by the Israeli accusation that the Germans are reluctant to normalize relations. It is natural that the Israelis use this situation to pose oversized demands on the Federal Republic.”232 In other words, Gerstenmaier was arguing that normalizing relations would also be in Egyptian interests because it would release the FRG from its implicit obligations to Israel. In return, he offered an end to all weapons deliveries and, to further gain Nasser’s interest, extended an invitation to visit the FRG. Because Nasser did not raise any major objections, Gerstenmaier left the meeting believing that a breakthrough was possible. The FRG ambassador to Egypt was more skeptical, noting that “a reserved reaction . . . should not be read as a sign of agreement,” but still saw the chance that, if plied with “spectacular economic and financial assistance,” Nasser might accept normalization of the FRG-Israeli relationship.233 At the beginning of 1965, FRG officials still hoped that the damage caused by the revelations about FRG-Israeli military cooperation might be contained through some kind of arrangement with Nasser, even though they remained hesitant to stop already scheduled deliveries.234 These hopes, however, sustained a heavy blow on 24 January 1965, when the Egyptian government announced that it would be hosting Walter Ulbricht, the chairman of the Council of State of the GDR. While the Ulbricht visit likely was in no small part a product of Soviet pressure linked to promises of aid, for the FRG it signaled a significant failure of its policy in the Middle East.235 Ministerial Director Franz Krapf noted in a memo, “If the Ulbricht visit in the UAR [Egypt] really takes place as outlined in the reports of our ambassador in Cairo . . . then this will yield the most difficult situation for our policy of exclusive representation as of yet. Ulbricht is a symbol of everything that we reject in the SOZ [Soviet Occupied Zone, meaning the GDR].”236 The FRG ambassador was sent to Nasser in an attempt to impress upon him the seriousness with which the FRG viewed the visit. Nasser responded that not only was the decision to host Ulbricht a done deal, but that should weapons deliveries to Israel continue, diplomatic recognition of the GDR could very well follow.237 Consequently, FRG officials shifted to damage control. To this purpose, the FRG enlisted the help of Spanish diplomat Marqués Francisco de Nerva to intercede with Nasser in an effort to cancel or postpone the Ulbricht visit.238 The Nerva

152

CHAPTER 4

visit, however, turned into even more of a fiasco, as the Spanish diplomat made promises to the Egyptian side that the FRG would halt all weapons deliveries and refrain from normalizing relations with Israel—promises that the FRG had not endorsed or authorized Nerva to make.239 The Spanish foreign minister, in the words of the FRG ambassador in Madrid, “in accord with the Spanish mentality and local need for prestige,” declared the Nerva visit a success.240 For the FRG, it simply complicated matters, and FRG officials found themselves arguing both to Israeli and American representatives that Nerva had gone beyond his instructions.241 Nevertheless, Egyptian officials now believed the FRG was willing to stop all weapons to Israel, and to subsequently deny this would only further sour relations with Egypt.242 Chancellor Erhard, meeting with Shinnar on 11 February, attempted to get Israeli acquiescence to a halt of weapons deliveries compensated by side payments.243 Shinnar was unable to agree, but the FRG still went ahead the following day to declare that “no longer would weapons be delivered to areas of tension” and that the FRG was “striving for the cancellation of these deliveries [to Israel].”244 With this declaration the FRG had hoped to dull the ongoing outrage of Arab states—particularly Egypt—and prevent them from recognizing the GDR.

Israel Leads a Backlash The decision to cease weapons deliveries evoked the immediate and harsh condemnation of the Israeli government. Shinnar returned to Israel, where he met with top Israeli officials who decided that “Israel sees no possibility to accept the offer of the Federal government, as it would it mean a capitulation to Arab blackmail to the detriment of Israel.”245 Two days later, Israeli prime minister Levi Eshkol elaborated on this position before the Knesset, stating “Germany has an unprecedented, heavy responsibility. It is its duty, to provide Israel the material necessary for its security; compensation or alternative gestures cannot take the place of this responsibility.”246 Moreover, he repeated the rhetoric frequently used at the time of the Luxembourg Agreement, namely that the “treatment of the Jewish peoples is a test for the return of Germany to the family of nations.”247 The FRG now became worried that the “Israeli side will mobilize public opinion against us.”248 Already in the United States, Jewish organizations had started to organize protests and even boycotts against the FRG for attempting to pull out of its agreements to arm Israel.249 The FRG ambassador in Washington reported on 17 February that textile firms in New York had begun canceling orders from companies in the FRG.250 On 18 February, the same ambassador met with U.S. secretary of state Dean Rusk to ask that the U.S. side “take steps to discourage

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

153

such actions and . . . stand protectively in front of us [the FRG] in the face of attacks from Jewish organizations.”251 On 22 February, the head of the FRG Press and Information Agency, Karl-Günther von Hase, reported to top officials of the FRG that “a campaign by world Jewry has begun . . . in the propaganda it is as if Israel had an authentic right to military assistance.”252 In Paris, a French diplomat warned his FRG counterpart of the possibility of an even larger “campaign of violent proportions” should the FRG fully abandon its commitments to Israel in the field of weapons cooperation.253 Compounding these difficulties was the ongoing inability of the FRG government to find a resolution to the issue of the statute of limitations for Nazi-era murders.254 Regarding this issue, not only Israel, but also groups in the United States had lodged protest.255 On 3 February, Krapf wrote that “nothing has had such a negative effect on our policy for reunification than the demand not to extend the statute of limitations.”256 Specifically, he explained that “it is increasingly doubtful that we can hold our moral and political position on the Germanyquestion without a correction of our hitherto existing attitude on the issue of the statute of limitations. To improve our position, we should therefore try—where possible—to overcome the strong pressure that bears upon us. . . . We desperately need this relief.”257 The FRG government was additionally under domestic pressure. For one, since the 1950s there had been a growth in domestic groups such as Aktion Sühnezeichen (Operation Sign of Reconciliation) that had sought to improve FRGIsraeli relations on the nongovernmental level.258 For these groups, the ongoing lack of diplomatic relations with Israel was a stain on the FRG image. Students, in particular, displayed greater support for better FRG-Israeli relations, and engaged in demonstrations at the time in favor of normalizing relations.259 Concurrently, there was a strong domestic backlash against the secret weapons deals, which both went against declared FRG policy on military cooperation and circumvented parliamentary oversight.260

The Crisis Comes to a Climax It was against this background that Ulbricht arrived in Egypt on 24 February 1965 proclaiming that “we [the government of the GDR] alone speak in the name of German people.”261 He was greeted with a twenty-one gun salute and a flyover by planes from the Egyptian air force. Ulbricht used the visit as an opportunity to attack the “imperialist” FRG government and its military cooperation with Israel, label Israel an “imperialist outpost in Arab territory,” and present the GDR as the true friend of Arab states.262 Ulbricht and Nasser agreed on a communiqué that proposed further cooperation in areas of economic, scientific, and cultural

154

CHAPTER 4

relations.263 The week-long visit may not have resulted in diplomatic recognition of the GDR, but it was nevertheless an anathema to FRG officials given their attempts to internationally isolate the GDR. For the first week of March, FRG policymakers sought to formulate a response that would put an end to their perceived crisis. FRG leaders considered terminating relations with Egypt or ending all assistance, but Foreign Ministry officials and even the U.S. ambassador countered this with concerns that such measures would simply push Egypt further into the arms of the GDR.264 FRG officials were further worried about a “chain reaction” in the Arab world, particularly when Israel had not yet agreed to a termination of military cooperation.265 While FRG policymakers continued to debate about how to react to Egypt, they chose to send a special envoy to Israel, parliamentary representative Kurt Birrenbach, to offer an exchange of consulates and attempt to convert outstanding military commitments into an alternative form of compensation.266 On 6 March, Rainer Barzel, the parliamentary group leader of the CDU, returned from a visit in the United States. While there, he had not only met with U.S. officials including President Lyndon Johnson, but also the leaders of numerous Jewish groups and the Israeli ambassador to the UN, Avraham Harman.267 The Jewish leaders and Ambassador Harman pressed Barzel with arguments for recognizing Israel. Upon returning, he immediately met with Erhard. Jelenik writes that Barzel was “apparently impressed by Harman’s words” when he reported back to the chancellor.268 His advice, which went beyond any of the options considered thus far, was not to cut relations with Egypt, but to establish diplomatic relations with Israel: “This action would stabilize the situation in the Middle East, with the help of economic assistance render the (problematic) weapons deliveries to Israel unnecessary, reduce the worldwide pressure on the coalition and parliament regarding the issue of the statute of limitations, and, if he decided this weekend, also regain domestic control.”269 The following day, Erhard decided upon a course of action. He ordered a statement prepared that suspended economic aid to Egypt without cutting relations, ended all weapons deliveries to areas of tension, and declared the desire to establish diplomatic relations with Israel. As noted at the start of this chapter, Horst Osterheld, director of the Foreign Affairs Office of the Chancellery, objected, “Herr Chancellor, we can do a general consul, but diplomatic relations! That is too big a step; it will turn all the Arabs against us. . . . The hatred of Israel is the only thing where they are united. Do not do it!”270 In response, however, Erhard answered that “he would no longer allow anyone to change his mind.”271 Osterheld writes that it was “above all Barzel and that fraction that pushed [Erhard] to this decision.”272 Consequently, that day the FRG government announced that “the Federal Government seeks the establishment of diplomatic relations with Israel. The

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

155

step is aimed to bring about a normalization of the circumstances. It is not directed against any Arab state.”273 Furthermore, the FRG stated it sought to “convert the remaining deliveries through an agreement with Israel.”274 The suddenness of the decision resulted in Birrenbach—the FRG emissary to Israel—arriving 8 March at the negotiating table to propose a consulate, only to be surprised by Israeli counterparts who responded that the FRG government in Bonn had already declared itself in favor of full relations.275 The Israeli side soon accepted the offer of diplomatic relations—on 16 March a clear majority of the Knesset approved the exchange of ambassadors.276 Nevertheless, before an agreement could be sealed, Birrenbach still faced the task of reaching Israeli accord regarding other outstanding points of contention. Some of the issues that had plagued FRG-Israeli relations in the recent months the FRG was able to alleviate unilaterally. For instance, soon after Erhard’s declaration, the FRG parliament was able to find a solution to the problem of the statute of limitations. The FRG chancellery had already shown its support of an extension in a 10 March report to the parliament that stated—in light of newly received documents—that the possibility of unprosecuted Nazi crimes remained strong.277 The parliament subsequently reached a compromise by voting to treat 1949, instead of 1945, as the start date for the statute of limitations, thereby granting a four-year extension.278 By the time of the negotiations, the controversy over FRG scientists in Egypt had also for the most part lost its salience as an issue. With legal attempts to deal with the problem having repeatedly run into dead ends, the FRG had engaged in an alternative approach of luring the scientists back with well-paying positions.279 In March, the FRG could report that “the number of German experts active in Egyptian aerospace and rocket production has drastically decreased.”280 The major remaining issues were the fate of the outstanding weapons deliveries and the future of economic aid. While the FRG refused to complete the deliveries and pushed Israel to accept alternative compensation instead, the Israeli side rejected any attempt by the FRG to free itself from its commitments.281 The two sides were able to find a solution, however, after the United States—following repeated pleas by the FRG—agreed to abandon its reluctance to supply Israel with weapons and thereby take over responsibility for the delivery of tanks.282 This marked the beginning of a major, sustained relationship of security cooperation between the United States and Israel that at the time of writing is still ongoing. The FRG, for its part, pledged to reimburse Israel for the tank purchases, as well as any other weapons purchases needed to offset the weapons the FRG had originally promised.283 In this manner, Israel was to receive the promised military aid paid for by the FRG, but without the FRG acting as the direct supplier. The FRG additionally promised to negotiate further financial help, declared publicly, to

156

CHAPTER 4

replace the secret “Operation Business Friend” loans after diplomatic relations had been established. These latter negotiations would subsequently result in yearly loans to Israel on better terms than the original arrangement.284 The resulting loans would continue until 1996, and as the first Israeli ambassador Asher Ben-Nathan would later note, “the total sum in the end would prove to be many times higher than that which Adenauer had promised” and “the conditions were . . . even more advantageous.”285

Normalization and Its Fallout On 12 May 1965 Erhard and Shinnar exchanged letters formalizing their intent to exchange ambassadors. In his letter, Erhard declared that “The attitude of the Federal Republic of Germany in the past demonstrates that it is aware of the special position of the Germans vis-à-vis the Jews all over the world, including Israel. It fills me with satisfaction that an agreement regarding the exchange of full diplomatic relations has been realized by our two states.”286 Eshkol, in return, wrote that “Both our governments have reached their decisions against a dark historical and stormy political background. I share your hope, that our shared decision will prove itself a substantial step to a better future.”287 Three months later, the ambassadors of both states would be at their posts. As for the reaction in the “Arab world,” the FRG faced an immediate backlash. In a number of Arab capitals—including Cairo, Taiz, Beirut, Damascus, and Tripoli—demonstrators attacked FRG establishments, in some cases looting and starting fires.288 Nasser denounced the FRG, declaring that “through its traitorous policies, it has shown that it is one of the worst imperialist powers of the world.”289 At a conference of the Arab League in Cairo on 14 March, the member states were divided among those that wanted to end relations with the FRG and recognize the GDR, those that only wanted to sever relations with the FRG, and a small minority that did not want to take any action.290 The member states decided to break diplomatic relations when the FRG exchanged ambassadors with Israel.291 FRG officials saw this as an opportunity to play upon the divisions in the Arab League to its favor, seeking to convince states not to follow through with their threats.292 In the end, ten of the thirteen members of the Arab League (the exceptions being Libya, Morocco, and Tunisia) severed diplomatic ties with the FRG.293 None, however, chose to recognize the GDR.

Explaining the Choice for Normalization In this period we can observe the “stickiness” of the FRG having pursued a sustained diplomacy of guilt. Internationally, the FRG had become entwined in its

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

157

own rhetoric. FRG officials had adopted a discourse of responsibility toward Israel as part of an ongoing diplomacy of guilt. Precisely because of this, the FRG could become the target of Israeli and international accusations that it was not fulfilling that responsibility. In fact, this is exactly what happened in 1965 when the FRG sought to curtail its weapons shipments to Israel. The FRG was under no treaty or other official obligation to provide for Israel’s defense. But the FRG was vulnerable to criticisms that it was abandoning its duty in no small part because of how FRG officials had framed its relationship with Israel. The significance of Israeli approval for its image as a reformed actor meant that it could not easily extricate itself from its commitments. Throughout the period following the Luxembourg Agreement, FRG officials did indeed continue to worry about their state’s image as a reformed actor on the international stage and more specifically about the perceptions of the American Jewish community. The graffiti incidents, the Eichmann trial, the outcry against the FRG cutoff of arms to Israel—all these appear in the FRG records as sources of concern. But it was the crisis over the arms transfers that was especially acute, as it saw Jewish groups in the United States threatening the FRG with a boycott. It is likely no small coincidence that Barzel—who had just returned from meeting the Israeli ambassador and leaders of Jewish organizations in the United States—played a key role in convincing Erhard to recognize Israel. This logic also is evident in a memo from the newly appointed FRG ambassador, Rolf Pauls, regarding the subsequent negotiations over the conversion of weapons deliveries into economic aid. He wrote, “When the result of the upcoming negotiations is impressive enough to make it impossible for Israel to mobilize the Jews of the world, above all in New York, against us, than it is enough.”294 The outside audience served as an important bar for measuring FRG commitments. What is more, the diplomacy of guilt had gradually become sticky domestically as well. FRG officials had been active in domestically cultivating a different attitude toward both Jews and the past through educational measures, especially after the graffiti incidents brought the FRG negative publicity on the global stage. Consequently, as Hannfried von Hindenburg notes, pro-Israeli domestic groups within the FRG—many composed of students of the younger generation—had begun to emerge more strongly in favor of policies of reconciliation.295 The choice to establish diplomatic relations with Israel had significant consequences for FRG interests in the Middle East. But to not have normalized relations after cutting off weapons shipments would have meant an Israeli repudiation of the FRG’s painstakingly cultivated image. To maintain the benefits of being seen as a reformed actor, it had to continue to abide by the role of an obligated, remorseful one, even when the costs of that performance came into direct conflict with other core interests.

158

CHAPTER 4

The Luxembourg Agreement, the weapons transfers, the choice to normalize relations—all these policies endangered traditional FRG interests in the Middle East. The argument here is that these policies can only be understood as the result of the FRG seeking to rehabilitate itself through pursuing a diplomacy of guilt toward Israel. This involved expressive gestures—such as renouncing Nazi crimes and acknowledging a historical debt—as well as costly, substantive gestures of assistance. The latter were not always immediately forthcoming, but they did promptly appear at times when there was the threat of potential damage to the FRG’s image as a reformed actor. These dynamics explain a relationship that is difficult to rectify with traditional understandings of state interests. The diplomacy of guilt required the FRG not simply to announce its remorse, but to take on substantive obligations. FRG officials had to conform to an emotional logic that ran contrary to the dictates of their traditional interests in the region.

Subsequent Years With diplomatic relations and an aid agreement in place, the pressure on the FRG to provide Israel with further compensation to some degree decreased.296 The immediacy for the FRG to present an image of remorse to the world had also faded. But the relations were far from “normal,” and neither would they be for the foreseeable future. In the words of Pauls’s Israeli counterpart in Bonn, the Israeli ambassador Asher Ben-Natan, “the relations could be formalized, but not normalized.”297 Similarly, in 2005, Ben-Natan would write, “The question, if our relationship has a special character or is completely normal remains to this day disputed. . . . The deciding factor is not how it is named, but rather the content, and in this sense the relationship is clearly anything but normal.”298 The decision of FRG state actors to engage in a diplomacy of guilt early on would set the basis for FRG-Israeli relations for decades to follow, institutionalized in the form of a “special responsibility.” Throughout the subsequent decades FRG officials would continue to balance an imperative to maintain good relations with Middle Eastern states, upon whom the FRG economy depended for oil imports, with a perceived special obligation toward Israel. In the 1969 Six-Day War and 1973 Yom Kippur War, the FRG projected an image of neutrality, but behind the scenes did what it could to aid the Israeli side, for example by overlooking, in 1973, the U.S. transshipment of weapons to Israel from FRG ports until the tide of the conflict had turned.299 The willingness to risk the appearance of complicity despite what FRG officials saw as the danger of “an oil embargo against the Federal Republic [that] would lead to chaotic conditions,” suggests the extent to which an obligation to Israel had

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

159

become embedded in FRG foreign policy.300 Over time, the diplomacy of guilt had been institutionalized. In an indicator of how far this had come since the 1950s, a secret memo, written by a Foreign Ministry official in 1970 for internal consumption only, stated that “the Federal Republic is aware of her moral burden and in a certain measure accountability for the past.”301 Nothing here is meant to say that FRG-Israeli relations have subsequently been smooth sailing. Nor does this chapter take a stance on the normative question of what the FRG should have done or how relations should be. Rather, the simple point is the diplomacy of guilt present at the initiation of FRG-Israeli relations created an interactive foundation in which was embedded a notion of obligation. In FRG chancellor Willy Brandt’s words before the European Parliament in 1973, “In regards to the German-Israeli relationship, everyone will understand when I also say here that they have a special character. This character remains unchanged. There can for us be no neutrality of heart or conscience.”302 These words would continue to find their echo even decades later, after the FRG and GDR unified. In his speech opening the first session of the newly unified Bundestag on 20 December 1990, Brandt explicitly stated, “We cannot escape our shared responsibility for the security and well-being of Israel.”303 As the ambassador to Israel at the time, Otto von der Gablentz, later explained, “the relationship between Germany and Israel was seen exactly as it had been before, as a very special relationship, a relationship of a very special nature, on the basis of the past—that plays naturally, at that time, before then, also in 1991, and after, even now, a very large role.”304 At the core of Israeli-FRG relations was the discourse of a special responsibility. In the words of Rita Süssmuth, head of the Bundestag at the time, the “special responsibility” was characterized by “on the one hand, a special responsibility for the well being of this land [Israel], for the protection of this land, the peace in this land; on the other, the special duty to prevent what had happened from being forgotten.”305 In fact, shortly after reunification that responsibility would again be thrust to the fore in FRG-Israeli relations, and FRG officials would once again be engaging in the diplomacy of guilt. The catalyst was Iraqi Scud attacks on Israel at the outset of the 1991 Gulf War. These attacks coincided with emerging revelations that German firms had been complicit in providing technology and material to Iraq’s chemical weapons and missile programs. The emergence of an Iraq capable of striking Israel, combined with revelations that German firms had been involved in making this possible, produced a wave of protest against the FRG in Israel. Gablentz states, “the notion, ‘for the second time German gas threatens the lives of Jewish people,’ that of course was of extraordinary psychological [importance]— all of a sudden, practically the whole of Israel . . . was under the spell of that term, ‘for the second time threatens the life of Jews.’ ”306

160

CHAPTER 4

As a result, FRG officials responded with both expressive and substantive gestures to convey remorse. Most significantly on the expressive side was what Der Spiegel reporter Hans-Joachim Noack has described as “penance-tourism.”307 For instance, on 24 January 1991, German foreign minister Hans Dietrich Genscher led a delegation to Israel. He was greeted by Holocaust survivors loudly picketing with signs reading “Eichmann’s successors are helping Iraq” and “Zyklon B— Mustard Gas—Nerve Gas—All made by Germans for Jews.”308 While there he visited Yad Vashem, the central Israeli memorial to the victims of the Holocaust, and pledged 250 million DM in aid.309 He also announced that he was “filled with deep shame (Scham)” regarding the role of German firms in increasing Iraq’s destructive potential.310 Genscher’s delegation was only one of many that made their way to Israel. On 4 February the same year, a delegation of nine German parliamentarians, spontaneously organized and led by the president of the parliament, Dr. Rita Süssmuth, arrived in Israel.311 Although the stated purpose of FRG visits to Israel was to demonstrate solidarity, there were those, particularly in the media, who interpreted these actions differently. Noack’s account of a formal dinner during Süssmuth’s stay conveys this: “Then the pressure that was burdening her became visible. As Dan Tichon uses the dinner as an opportunity to give a speech like one that came out of the freezer, the guilty conscience turns into obsequiousness. Unnerved, muddling her words, [Süssmuth] seeks refuge in a phrase and insures Israel of ‘total solidarity.’ ”312 Süssmuth herself stated that there was “massive criticism.”313 Other groups of state and local government officials also paid visits. In fact, there were so many that the German ambassador later stated that “it was not easy for the Israelis to receive all those visitors, for there were just too many at the moment”—this at a time when citizens of other countries were abandoning Israel for their safety.314 Several German visitors have commented that, despite the tension of the situation, they were personally well received in Israel.315 They also described their own motives as wanting to display solidarity with Israel in its time of danger, linking this to the special responsibility Germany had for Israel.316 But it would seem that it was the special nature of the situation that brought this to the fore. As Süssmuth would later state, “in a very sensitive situation, and that is especially true for 1991, where there was disappointment over the numerous weapons deals that were very heavily criticized by Israel, this [the special responsibility] plays an important role.”317 FRG officials could easily have protested more vocally that it was very difficult to prevent all criminal activity, or that other countries such as Britain and France were also guilty. Certainly there were those in the FRG who did make these arguments. But if one is to give any credence to reports by the press or other outside observers, the FRG delegations in Israel did not project the image of having

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

161

come to defend themselves.318 Rather, the impression was, in the words of one Israeli reporter, of “a veritable storm of breast-beating German visitors,” acting “in a fit of bad conscience.”319 Apart from expressive gestures, there was also a substantive side to FRG behav ior: outright gifts of aid and military hardware to Israel. Four days after Genscher’s visit to Jerusalem, an Israeli delegation arrived at the meeting room of the German cabinet. The Israeli ambassador began by providing a “historical overview, that was painful on both sides” and then discussed how the Israeli civilian population had been attacked by Iraq without any provocation.320 When asked by German chancellor Helmut Kohl what the Israeli priorities were, the ambassador answered, “The first, second, third, and up to the tenth priority are submarines.”321 The Israeli government had been seeking to acquire Dolphin-class diesel submarines for some time, but did not have sufficient resources available to finance them—they were requesting that Germany foot the bill.322 Additionally, an Israeli general made demands for Patriot missile batteries.323 The delegation was ushered out of the room and after a very short deliberation period the cabinet decided that Israel was to receive 1.3 billion DM worth of military aid, including two Dolphin-class submarines, 8 Fox-type ABC-detection vehicles, Patriot batteries,324 100,000 ABC-protective suits, and medical supplies.325 Fifty further ABC-detection vehicles were offered from the stocks of the former GDR.326 As one scholar writes, “the package was approved in record time by circumventing the usual channels and instead taking the decision at the highest levels of German government.”327 Given reports that the German government had just weeks before turned down Israeli entreaties for assistance, this was a significant about face.328 This choice by the FRG to provide substantive aid is difficult to justify on the grounds of traditional statecraft. For one, the FRG had no direct security interests at stake. Israel was not part of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and it did not play a major role in intra-European politics. Neither could FRG officials hope for economic benefit from providing aid to Israel. Indeed, the Kohl government was suffering from resource constraints at the time. Due to the costs of reunification and FRG contributions in support of Coalition troops, the FRG was suffering financially, something that would eventually come back to hurt Kohl’s popularity. Furthermore, by helping Israel the FRG complicated its relationship with other Arab states who either had much more to offer, or conversely would also demand compensation. Thus, aid to Israel was in fact more costly than it may have seemed at first, in that money subsequently had to be spent to also placate Israel’s neighbors who cried foul. Rather, at issue was a substantive component in a performance of remorse to work against damage to FRG-Israeli relations and the image of the FRG. This

162

CHAPTER 4

produced a rapid decision at the highest level that went against decades of weapons export policy. Indeed, when pushed on the question of whether the FRG had abandoned its tenets on weapons exports because German firms had assisted in the production of Iraqi chemical weapons, Genscher answered, “It is an exception. The uniqueness of this situation should not be interpreted as a signal of the reorientation of our policy on weapons exports. The participation of Germans in the production of poison gas is, after everything that happened in Auschwitz, a terrible crime, one that I did not ignore when making my decision.”329 To quote the speaker for the Israeli Ministry of Defense at the time, “I think everyone can understand why the Germans are offering us this aid. That is in the face of the information we are hearing every day about the aid given by German elements to the Iraqi war machine, and beyond that to the Iraqi ability to fire missiles at Israel and to Iraq’s chemical warfare capability.”330 Concisely, when former FRG officials found themselves confronted with accusations that linked the newly unified Germany with its Nazi past, they chose those behaviors they deemed necessary to work against such an image. As the former ambassador to Israel stated, “We do know that our relationship with Israel is for many other countries and for many people in the world a test of the honest way that the Germans look at their own history and the commitments and responsibilities that flow from it.”331 The strategy they chose mirrored that of earlier FRG eras—they engaged in the diplomacy of guilt vis-à-vis Israel. This included both expressive and substantive gestures, the latter of which entailed nontrivial costs. The Israeli side, for its part, recognized the nature of this interaction and saw the opportunity to request submarines that previously it could not afford. To explain this episode, as to explain FRG and Israeli interactions in earlier periods, it is necessary to look at the implicit model of guilt behav ior that underpinned what they understood as the strategically appropriate courses of action.

FRG behav ior toward Israel, particularly given its interests in the region, deviated markedly from how we would understand the pursuit of interests given traditional notions of statecraft. The explanation for this behavior is that the FRG was pursuing a diplomacy of guilt toward Israel. Presenting an image of guilt not just expressively but substantively was costly for the FRG, and at times forced FRG officials to act at the expense of other significant interests. This diplomacy of guilt was not simply motivated by altruism, but was closely linked to FRG expectations of how it would influence the perceptions of key external audiences, from specific Jewish groups in the United States to the more amorphous “family of nations.” Significantly, FRG officials viewed Israeli validation of their efforts as

THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

163

playing an important role in the FRG’s rehabilitation. The Israeli side was aware of this and not above using FRG officials’ concerns about their state’s image to extract aid and concessions. What thus emerged was an interactive dynamic centered around an implicit model of guilt behav ior. Over time, this became institutionalized within the relationship with consequences that persisted long afterward. This latter dynamic further points to the ways continued adherence to a policy of emotional diplomacy can result in its stickiness, a possibility I will return to in the conclusion. The diplomacy of guilt thus constitutes another strain of emotional diplomacy on the international stage. Like the diplomacies of anger and sympathy, it too offers a means for states to pursue perceived interests by acting in ways that defy traditional notions of “normal” state behav ior. Writing in a confidential memo shortly after the exchange of ambassadors between the FRG and Israel, FRG ambassador Rolf Pauls noted that “the actual normalization begins now.”332 For Pauls, that meant that “German-Israeli relations will be built on a ‘quid-pro-quo’ and that Germany will no longer accept having to perform (leisten).”333 Pauls’s note is revealing, for it demonstrates how even FRG officials conceived of a difference between “normal” relations governed by the standard rules of statecraft and those that existed between the FRG and Israel. Pauls, however, was wrong in thinking that would change with the establishment of diplomatic relations.

5 FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

Phnom Penh, Cambodia: 30 January 2003 The riot left the façade of the Thai embassy in Phnom Penh stained with black streaks of soot. Inside much of it had been looted and set afire; outside stood the still smoldering wrecks of several vehicles. Reports stated that police guarding the embassy the previous evening had been outnumbered; mobs even smashed the windows of fire trucks that had approached the blaze.1 Thai-owned businesses in the city suffered similar or worse fates—their windows shattered, their possessions stolen, and their buildings set aflame. In January 2003 popular outrage erupted in Cambodia in response to news that a Thai actress had allegedly claimed that Angkor Wat, an archeological temple complex located in Cambodia’s northern province of Siem Reap, belonged to Thailand. The result was massive demonstrations that became violent, and the targets of their wrath were Thai diplomatic and business facilities. All this occurred in spite of repeated, explicit requests from the Thai prime minister for police protection. Eventually, the Cambodian army did take control of the situation, but this was not before significant damage had already been done. In response, to quote a U.S. State Department report on the incident, the Thai government “reacted swiftly and angrily.”2 It lodged “the strongest official protest” before downgrading relations, recalling its ambassador, expelling the Cambodian ambassador, suspending all economic cooperation, stopping aid, forbidding Thai nationals from entering Cambodia, and closing the border to Cambodians.3 The Cambodian government moved to immediately apologize, but this was rejected by the Thai 164

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

165

prime minister as “not enough.”4 Only after the Cambodian side presented repeated formal apologies, proffered compensation for the damages, and promised a domestic public relations campaign to clarify that Thailand was not claiming Angkor Wat did the Thai side agree to move toward reestablishing full diplomatic relations.

The preceding three chapters employed focused, empirical studies of puzzling episodes of state behav ior to probe the explanatory purchase gained by theorizing the existence of emotional diplomacy. There is no reason, however, to assume that emotional diplomacy is limited to either these instances or their protagonists. In the episode outlined above, for instance, the Thai government’s response followed exactly what one would expect from state actors engaging in a diplomacy of anger: it combined outraged rhetoric with immediate punitive substantive actions, and these did not subside until the Cambodian side had repeatedly apologized. Nor do we have grounds to assume that the diplomacies of sympathy or guilt are confined to the actors and historical circumstances described in chapters 3 and 4. The purpose of this chapter is to offer further illustrations of the diplomacies of anger, sympathy, and guilt in action as evidence of the wider applicability of the approaches presented in previous chapters. To these ends, the following offers a series of additional “mini-studies” that add support to the conclusion that the diplomacies of anger, sympathy, and guilt constitute recurring patterns of action and interaction present across multiple episodes of interstate relations.

The Diplomacy of Anger While chapter 2 focused primarily on the actions of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), as the incident provided at the outset of this chapter demonstrates, the PRC is far from the only state to engage in the diplomacy of anger. It is not possible to offer here a comprehensive catalogue of all such episodes within international relations. But it is possible to point to additional incidents that suggest the tractability of this model beyond Sino-U.S. relations or PRC foreign policy behavior more broadly. Below I offer a further mini-study of a diplomatic crisis that occurred literally half a world away from the setting of the Taiwan Strait Crisis and all the same demonstrates a similar logic in its dynamics of escalation and dissipation: the 2008 Andean Crisis. Here too we can observe a sudden and vehement reaction containing both symbolic and substantive components as well as an equally sudden and surprising resolution. Triggered by a Colombian raid against an Armed Revolutionary Forces of Colombia (FARC) camp on Ecuadorian

166

CHAPTER 5

territory, the crisis had some in the region speaking of the possibility of war.5 And yet, the crisis disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, ending in smiles and handshakes. The argument here is simple: the 2008 Andean Crisis followed the arc one would expect from a diplomacy of anger.

2008 Andean Crisis Shortly after midnight on 1 March 2008, Colombian forces first bombed and then raided a FARC camp located little more than two kilometers across the Colombian border in Ecuador.6 The attack killed FARC leader Raúl Reyes together with twenty-four other members of the insurgent group.7 Hours later, Colombian president Alvaro Uribe called his Ecuadorian counterpart, Rafael Correa, to inform him that Colombian troops had entered Ecuador in “hot pursuit” of FARC soldiers.8 At first, the Ecuadorian response was relatively muted. When, however, Ecuadorian troops finally reached the scene and found dead FARC members “wearing only underwear,” the Ecuadorian side shifted to suspecting that the Colombian side had prevaricated and what had actually occurred was a premeditated violation of its sovereignty.9 Consequently, the Ecuadorian response rapidly changed to a full display of anger. According to one author, “Within hours after the attack, President Correa fulminated against Uribe, thus beginning a ferocious diplomatic assault.”10 Correa declared that “President Uribe was poorly informed or lied outright to the President of Ecuador, however the Ecuadorian government will not allow any more of this outrage from the Colombian government and we will take this to the end and so clear-up this scandalous act of aggression to our territory and our country.”11 Over the following days the Ecuadorian government employed the rhetoric of outrage, time and again renouncing their Colombian counterpart. Correa accused Uribe of “lying to Ecuador and the world. . . . We cannot trust a government that violates a brother country.”12 Ecuador also started bolstering its words with substantive gestures. It began by recalling its ambassador and sending troops to the border; two days later it broke off relations with Colombia altogether.13 What is more, Venezuela too became involved and cut relations with Colombia. Venezuelan president Hugo Chávez further mobilized Venezuelan military forces and threatened war should Colombia enter Venezuelan territory.14 For its part, the day after the raid, the Colombian Foreign Ministry initially engaged in relatively conciliatory behav ior, offering its apologies for violating Ecuadorian sovereignty, but qualifying this with the claim that the raid was “indispensable” and its forces were “forced to advance” across the border.15 This framing was quickly denounced by Correa as a “travesty of the truth.”16 The following day the Colombian government released a further statement, this time

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

167

expressing that Colombia would not send troops to the border, but at the same time accusing Venezuela and Ecuador of having dealings with FARC.17 This elicited further denials and denunciations from Ecuador, with Correa disparaging Uribe as “mendacious and insolent.”18 With tensions rising between Colombia, Ecuador, and Venezuela, the Organization of American States (OAS) assembled in Washington, D.C., on 4 March to address the incident. On the eve of the meeting, OAS president, José Miguel Insulza, described the situation as “serious” and appealed for the states involved to resolve the crisis peacefully.19 After a two-day meeting, the group agreed to a resolution that acknowledged that Ecuadorian territory had been transgressed and reaffirmed the inviolability of borders, but fell short of an outright condemnation of Colombia.20 Moreover, the OAS arranged to send a commission to examine the incident and reconvene 17 March. While Ecuador had agreed to the resolution, Correa nonetheless vowed that the Ecuadorian government “would not stay silent” until Columbia had been “overwhelmingly condemned.”21 To these ends, Correa continued his criticism of Colombia throughout a subsequent five-state tour where he met with regional leaders to gain support. It was at this time that Nicaragua also chose to break diplomatic relations with Colombia. Things truly came to a head several days later on 8 March, as the Group of Rio Summit brought together various Latin American leaders, including Correa, Uribe, and Chávez in the Dominican Republic. Uribe avoided conflict the evening before the summit by remaining absent from the welcoming dinner.22 The following day, however, placed the various protagonists of the crisis in the same conference room. The morning session contained multiple scenes of accusations, insults, and “displays of disrespect.”23 At one point, for instance, a minor scene ensued when Correa walked out while Uribe was talking. Uribe demanded to know where Correa had gone and refused to continue in his absence. The Ecuadorian foreign minister had to announce that Correa had left to use the washroom.24 When Correa did return, he loudly complained, “For the love of God, president, how long are you going to continue talking?”25 At another point, Correa warned the summit’s hosts, “be careful, if President Uribe thinks that there is another Raúl Reyes in Santo Domingo and comes and bombs you, and if there is a computer left, he is going to moreover say that you are responsible for the bombing. Be careful!”26 A verbal fight then erupted between Correa and Uribe, in which Uribe retorted that Correa should not “apply to me that cynicism with which you deceive your people.”27 Correa in turn declared “how hard it is to believe someone who has lied so many times.”28 This led the Argentinean president, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, to observe that while women are frequently accused of “a certain degree of hysteria when we have some

168

CHAPTER 5

issues . . . some scenes we have seen here make us women possibly the most rational people on this planet.”29 Chávez appealed that “we cool our heads.”30 Remarkably, however, in the final hours of the summit a relatively dramatic shift took place. Its catalyst was the intervention of the summit’s moderator, Dominican Republic president Leonel Fernández, who appealed to the protagonists to stand, share hugs and handshakes, and “reaffirm the values of peace, friendship, and fraternity among us.”31 To this, Uribe suddenly responded that he accepted the proposal. With that, he stood up and crossed over to Correa to shake his hand, apologized, and furthermore promised that Colombia would never again violate Ecuadorian territory.32 Correa, who accepted the handshake, replied, “We can say this very serious incident has been resolved.”33 All this was greeted with the standing applause of the summit participants. The participants then proceeded to approve a declaration that denounced the “violation of territorial integrity of Ecuador,” noted “with satisfaction” Uribe’s apology, and also recognized the “pledge by President Uribe . . . that these events will not be repeated under any circumstances.”34 Consequently, Venezuela and Nicaragua also agreed to restore relations with Colombia. While it would still be some time before Ecuador and Colombia fully reestablished diplomatic relations, the scene at the end of the summit had the immediate and remarkable effect of significantly defusing the tensions between the two states.

Analysis We can quite clearly observe the diplomacy of anger at work in this episode. First, the substantive and expressive gestures on the part of Ecuador conform to what we would expect from the diplomacy of anger. On the one hand were the repeated accusations and denunciations that Correa and other representatives of the Ecuadorian government leveled at their Colombian counterparts. On the other were the punitive and aggressive substantive actions, such as breaking off diplomatic relations and moving troops to the border. We additionally see the logic of the diplomacy of anger reflected in the responses of other regional actors who sought to lower tensions by eliciting reconciliatory gestures from Colombia. In fact, the Colombian response of not moving troops to its border in response to Ecuador’s military deployments would seem puzzling were it not placed in the context of seeking to assuage anger. Significantly, at the heart of the episode would appear to be less an exchange of threats and counterthreats concerning the use of force than an attempt to reaffirm norms and punish a perceived wrongful violation. Notably, the Ecuadorian government sought first and foremost a reaffirmation of the norm of territorial inviolability. Coupled to this was an all-out diplomatic push for a regional

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

169

condemnation of Colombian actions. And yet, all this subsided significantly and suddenly in the face of a drastic shift to conciliation by the Colombian president, who reaffirmed the norms that had been broken and offered apologies. Although Uribe’s gestures may not have been enough to completely erase the incident, they did have a highly significant de-escalatory effect. The manner in which the participants so quickly went from “insults to hugs” was likely startling for even those close to the events.35 Here too we can observe the logic of the diplomacy of anger playing out—the Ecuadorian displays of anger subsided quite rapidly in the face of reconciliatory gestures.

Further Applications The additional illustration of the diplomacy of anger above is far from alone. The episode in Thai-Cambodian relations cited at the beginning of this chapter also displays a similar dynamic. Or alternately, we can see such behav ior in the Pakistani response to the killing of several soldiers by U.S. ordnance near the Afghan border in 2010. Pakistan lodged vehement protests and “angrily” closed the border to North American Treaty Organization (NATO) supply convoys.36 The border was reopened months later only after U.S. secretary of state Hilary Clinton caller her Pakistani counterpart to say “sorry.”37 The simple point is that the diplomacy of anger is not something confined to the PRC’s diplomatic arsenal. It is a pattern of behav ior used by state actors to respond to perceived violations of their interests in a manner that constitutes the issue at stake as one of principle. It involves sudden and aggressive flares of tension, but has the remarkable quality of dissipating in the face of conciliatory gestures. As such, the lens provided by the diplomacy of anger can be used to make sense of seemingly puzzling behavior— such as the sudden resolution of the 2008 Andean Crisis—in other parts of the world as well.

The Diplomacy of Sympathy The diplomacy of sympathy, similarly, is not a course of behav ior limited to the Russian Federation (RF) and PRC. This is clear from the aftermath of 9/11. The fact that numerous states—not simply the RF and PRC—engaged in official displays of sympathy in response to 9/11 suggests the degree to which the diplomacy of sympathy is a response pattern common to actors in the international system. The British government, for example, observed minutes of silence, held memorial services, and pledged substantial military support. The Council of the European Union declared 14 September a day of mourning and requested that “all

170

CHAPTER 5

Europeans” observe three minutes’ silence at noon that day.38 Granted, the reaction of the European states may in some ways appear overdetermined by their status as allies. But this was true of historical adversaries as well. The subsequent subsection presents a mini-study that focuses on the diplomacy of sympathy in the context of such a relationship, one that had previously been characterized by more than four decades of official animosity: U.S.-Cuban relations.39 To provide some background, at the time of the 9/11 attacks, the United States and Cuba lacked formal relations, and the United States classified Cuba as a “state sponsor of terrorism,” subjecting it to a number of laws aimed at economically isolating and politically destabilizing the regime.40 The Cuban government therefore found itself in the shadow of a militarily superior and openly hostile great power committed to fostering regime change, and without the economic and military support it had enjoyed from the Soviet bloc during the Cold War.41 In April of 2001, Cuban leader Fidel Castro characterized Cuba’s position as having been “the target of an economic war that has lasted more than 42 years, as well as serious crimes and acts of genocide like the blockade on food and medicine.”42 Moreover, the Cuban government additionally leveled charges at the United States of supporting terrorism, in particular for harboring Cuban exiles that had engaged in bombing attacks against Cuban civilians.43 There were a few areas of cooperation between the two states—collaboration on drug interdiction and immigration being notable examples—but these were more the exception than the rule.44 In short, U.S.-Cuban relations immediately prior to the 9/11 attacks can be described as antagonistic at best. Given such a history of hostility, sympathy would conceivably be the last response one would expect. But what the Cuban government did after 9/11 was to immediately deploy the rhetoric and symbolic gestures of sympathy and offered substantive assistance as well. Here too one can observe state actors navigating the logic and behaviors that correspond to a diplomacy of sympathy, even if tempered by opposition to certain U.S. policies.

The Cuban Reaction The first official Cuban response to the 9/11 attacks was an expression of sympathy that came from the Cuban foreign minister Felipe Pérez Roque, who shortly after the second tower fell stated, “Our reaction is truly one of rejection of these acts that have undoubtedly resulted in heavy human and material losses. Our condolences go out to the families of the victims and the authorities and people of the United States.”45 The Cuban government then quickly proffered substantive gestures, announcing that nine Cuban airports were open to accepting diverted flights and that there existed capacity for receiving up to sixty planes.46 In the United States, the Cuban ambassador to the United Nations (UN), Bruno Rodri-

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

171

guez Parrilla, “expressed his condolences with the people and government of the United States” and appealed for international cooperation against terrorism.47 At 3:00 p.m. local time, the Cuban government released a formal statement of sympathy to the international press, worth quoting at length: The government of the Republic of Cuba has received with pain and sadness the news about the violent surprise attacks realized this morning against civil and official installations in the city of New York and Washington, which have produced numerous victims. The position of Cuba is known to be against all terrorist actions. It is not possible to forget that our people has been victim of more than 40 years of such acts initiated from the very territory of the United States. As much as for historical reasons as for ethical principles, the government of our country renounces and condemns with all force the attacks against the installations mentioned and expresses its sincere condolences to the North American people for the pain and unjustifiable human loss caused by said attacks. In this bitter hour our people is in solidarity with the people of the United States and express the full intent to cooperate, within the capacity of its modest abilities, with the health care services or any other institution of medical or humanitarian nature of that country for the attention, care, or rehabilitation of the victims caused by the acts that occurred this morning.48 That evening, Castro further elaborated on this statement, announcing that Cuba had “never felt hatred towards the people of North America” and declared that “we have felt profound pain and sadness for the people of North America.”49 He also expanded upon the offer of medical support, stating “if blood of any type is lacking, or plasma—any other supplies that we could donate, we would be happy to.”50 Castro then went on to discuss the terrorist behav ior of exile groups in Miami, denounce the world economic order, and caution the United States against trying to respond to terrorism with force. Instead, he advocated that the “international community” should act to end terrorism. The expressions of official sympathy continued the following day when the official Cuban Communist Party newspaper, Granma, ran a headline stating, “We Feel Pain and Sadness together with the North American People,” and republished the official statement of the Cuban government.51 On 16 September, the Cuban government organized a rally under the theme “Our Solidarity with the American People during the National Tragedy They Are Living Through.”52 Presided over by Raul Castro, Fidel’s brother and the Cuban defense minister at the time, the rally reportedly had over twenty thousand in attendance.53 As a writer for the Washington Post noted, “Cuban rallies that involve the United States usually denounce it.”54

172

CHAPTER 5

It was around this time that meetings also started taking place between Cuban and U.S. officials for the exchange of information regarding terrorist activities.55 Over the days following the attacks, however, the Cuban government and press noted with increasing alarm the growing readiness in the United States to engage in military action.56 On 19 September, the Cuban government published an official appeal in Granma under the title “Still Not All Is Lost,” calling the attacks “sad and brutal,” but petitioning the United States not to engage in war as an answer.57 On 20 September, however, an alternative to war appeared even less likely after Bush publicly leveled an ultimatum at the Taliban and famously declared, “Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”58 Castro responded two days later. Calling the attacks “an enormous error, a colossal injustice, and a great crime,” a “surprising and shocking murder of thousands of innocent citizens,” he nevertheless denounced the coming military actions, claiming that their first victims would be “inhabitants of the poor and underdeveloped world.”59 Promising that Cuban territory would never be used for terrorist attacks against the United States, Castro declared his solidarity along with a call for “calm and peace.”60 It was at this point that he first coined the phrase that would come to characterize the Cuban position to the Afghanistan campaign, proclaiming Cuba “against terrorism and against war.”61 In other words, Castro sought to express opposition to a possible U.S. response while still maintaining the image of sympathy. On 1 October, the Cuban representative at the UN, Rodriguez Parrilla, spoke before the General Assembly during a session focusing on measures to eliminate international terrorism. While his speech focused less on displaying sympathy for the United States than those of other representatives that spoke that day, we can nevertheless observe a degree of restraint.62 Parrilla argued that any response to the attacks needed to be channeled through international cooperation at the UN as opposed to war, and protested the lack of UN response to terrorist acts against Cuba. Nevertheless, he still withheld from overtly attacking the United States, stating, “Only the consideration and respect our people have for the victims of the attack of 11 September and the seriousness of the current situation . . . encourage me to contribute to the spirit of this debate by remaining silent on the subject of the origins of the terrorism against Cuba.”63 He furthermore reiterated Castro’s pledges to oppose terrorism and not allow Cuban territory to be used as a base for terrorist activity against the United States. Two days later, Castro sent UN secretary-general Kofi Annan a letter, stating that “the Republic of Cuba has decided to adhere, as you requested, to the twelve international instruments that exist regarding terrorism.”64 Cuban efforts to link terrorism against the United States to its own experience continued in Cuba. On 6 October, Castro led a political rally of “hundreds of

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

173

thousands” to commemorate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the bombing of a Cuban airliner by Cuban exiles.65 During his speech, Castro not only discussed the victims of the 1976 attack, but also drew direct parallels to the terrorist acts against the United States, stating for example that “in both cases, an immense emptiness and infinite anguish enveloped the families, an unendurable sorrow and deep indignation caused in everyone of our peoples by a horrible crime . . . these were intentional acts, callously conceived and realized.”66 He additionally announced that “we have convened this great act against terrorism as a homage and tribute to the memory of our brothers and sisters killed in Barbados 25 years ago, but it is also an expression of solidarity with the thousands of innocent people that died in New York and Washington and of condemnation of the brutal crime against them.”67 So while denouncing political violence against Cuba, Castro was also tying this to a larger campaign in solidarity with the victims of the 9/11 attacks against terrorism—a stance adopted by other speakers at the rally as well.68 Over the following weeks, despite repeatedly denouncing the U.S. campaign in Afghanistan within the idiom of “opposing terrorism, opposing war,” the Cuban government still continued to make gestures of sympathy and solidarity toward the United States as a victim of terrorism. The anthrax attacks that occurred shortly after 9/11, for example, provided an additional opportunity for Cuban gestures of solidarity. On 26 October, Cuban officials reportedly proposed supplying the U.S. government with stocks of ciprofloxacin, an antibiotic used to combat anthrax, and on 12 November offered the United States “low cost, Cuban made devices to detect and eliminate anthrax.”69 There is one more incident of interest pertaining to this case that occurred within the time frame of this study. In January of 2002, the United States announced its decision to use its naval base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, as a holding center for designated “enemy combatants.” Significantly, the Cuban government not only withheld objections, but actually expressed willingness to assist with medical and sanitary issues.70 In a surprise visit to a lookout over the base that same month, Raul Castro even promised that escaped prisoners would be “detained and returned to the door of the Americans.”71 Here, too, the Cuban government was taking a cooperative approach.

Analysis In short, after 9/11 the Cuban government found itself reacting to terrorist attacks on a militarily superior neighbor that regarded it both with hostility and as a “state sponsor of terror.” The immediate responses of Cuban officials to the attacks were statements of sympathy and condolences, offers of assistance, and a

174

CHAPTER 5

proclaimed dedication to the cause of fighting terrorism. In particular, the language used on 11 September by Fidel Castro—“we have felt profound pain and sadness for the people of North America”—was a classic example of sympathy discourse. This framing of the attacks on the United States as a horrible tragedy that cost many innocent lives would persist even after the United States began bombing Afghanistan. Nevertheless, it was in the immediate aftermath that these reactions were most salient, such as during the rally presided over by Raul Castro to express solidarity with the American people. While the Cuban government did not abandon its objections to U.S. policies, it did embed them within a discourse of sympathy that lacked much of its prior animosity. In this fashion, the Cuban government sought to convey that it too abhorred terrorism, viewed the United States as a victim, and was not an enemy. Cuban officials were thereby able to offer aid, intelligence, and anti-terrorist cooperation without embracing the U.S. resort to force or fully abandoning grievances against Cuban exiles’ activities. The logic of sympathy behav ior thus played a visible role in shaping Cuba’s initial responses. Indeed, from the perspective of a diplomacy of sympathy, one could argue that it was precisely because relations between Cuba and the United States were so poor that the Cuban government made the effort to express sympathy with the victims of the attacks. Granted, Cuba did not exhibit a strategy of unconditional sympathy and tempered its statements with concerns about U.S. military action and references to its own suffering from terrorism. But, having not made gestures of sympathy would have conveyed a provocative message of enmity; this latter reaction arguably would not have been the best response for a state labeled by the United States as a sponsor of terrorism. All the same, throughout the period examined here the United States nevertheless remained cold to Cuban gestures of sympathy or offers of aid and even accused the Cuban government of providing useless intelligence in an attempt to waste U.S. resources.72 Quite simply, the Bush administration was committed to opposing and isolating the Castro regime. This position was most clearly underlined by the Bush administration’s “Initiative for a New Cuba” unveiled in May 2002, a proposed set of additional measures for undermining the Castro government. Nothing requires the target to respond graciously. The simple point is that a state in a highly antagonistic relationship with the United States nevertheless engaged in behaviors belonging to the diplomacy of sympathy. In fact, this is true not only for Cuba—Libya, Iran, and North Korea also made statements expressing condolences and condemning the attacks.73 Importantly, one of the only leaders not to express condolences was Iraqi president Saddam Hussein, and this was against the express recommendations of his cabinet.74 All this indicates the ways in which the diplomacy of sympathy was broadly

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

175

perceived as both the prudent and necessary response to the attacks, even if the strength of its actual expression did vary.

Beyond 9/11 The relevance of the diplomacy of sympathy outlined here extends beyond international responses to 9/11. Tragic events within international relations are, unfortunately, far from uncommon. While qualitatively different in important ways from the 9/11 attacks, responses to natural disasters also frequently elicit the diplomacy of sympathy. The expectation that states, particularly great powers such as the United States, should show sympathy and offer assistance following humanitarian disasters may seem to some intuitively obvious, but it remains theoretically difficult to explain when it involves long-term adversaries such as Iran. For a field that is allegedly dominated by “self-help,” displays of sympathy in international relations following natural disasters present a curious phenomenon— especially between rivals or enemies. In response to the Bam earthquake of 2003 in Iran, the United States not only offered condolences, but also airlifted in medical supplies, blankets, plastic sheeting, tents, kitchen sets, and an eighty-one member emergency team.75 This in turn led to a window of improvement in the relations between the states. While offering the caveat that “we should not think that just because of this humanitarian rapprochement it immediately leads to a political rapprochement,” U.S. secretary of state Colin Powell nonetheless noted in an interview at the time that, “it showed that in a crisis like that we could cooperate, and maybe that will lead to other areas of cooperation. . . . I think it has opened up some opportunities for dialogue with Iran.”76 The “earthquake diplomacy” between Turkey and Greece in 1999 is another example where displays of sympathy and assistance were exchanged between antagonistic states, in this case serving to pave the way for better relations. The episode taken from RF-Polish relations at the outset of this book would also appear to be a further instance of this logic at work. Given standard assumptions in the field of international relations, such examples of other-help for adversaries would seem inexplicable. The possibility being posited here is that in the case of natural disasters or accidents, the diplomacy of sympathy can open up the possibility for bettering relations. Whether or not the diplomacy of sympathy eventually results in long-term rapprochement after the catalyzing event has receded arguably hinges on subsequent political dynamics and leadership choices beyond the purview of this study. All the same, the diplomacy of sympathy does constitute a means for initiating such a process by breaking out of traditional patterns of interaction to project a benign image of intentions. These are possibilities that invite future empirical investigation.

176

CHAPTER 5

The Diplomacy of Guilt The FRG’s behav ior toward the State of Israel analyzed in chapter 4 is far from the only instantiation of the diplomacy of guilt on the international stage. There are multiple other examples, and these offer important variation in terms of the extent of official remorse displayed. As noted in chapter 4, within international relations there has emerged a literature deeply interested in the issue of international apologies. Significantly, many working in this vein have examined not only at the behav ior of the FRG, but also that of Japan.77 While the wartime Japanese government did not engage in the meticulously planned genocide that was the Holocaust, it nevertheless was responsible for an imperial project that caused massive pain, suffering, and death in East and Southeast Asia. China, in particular, was the target of a sustained campaign of territorial invasion, and its population was subject to a brutal occupation, arbitrary killings, forced labor and rape, and even biological and chemical warfare. When the behav ior of the FRG and Japan in the postwar period toward history is compared, the FRG generally emerges much more favorably. In the words of Ian Buruma, German attitudes toward the past are seen to be like “a massive tongue seeking out, over and over, a sore tooth,” whereas Japan resembles “a petulant child, stamping its foot, shouting that it had done nothing wrong, because everybody did it.”78 In what follows, this final section examines how viewing PRC-Japanese relations through the lens of the diplomacy of guilt can offer further insights into their relationship and the more general comparison between the FRG and Japan. To be clear, there are numerous, significant differences between postwar Japan and the FRG, and even more so between FRG-Israeli and PRC-Japanese relations. In Japan there exists continuity in the emperor system across the pre- and postwar eras; the conservative Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) for many decades held a monopoly on Japanese politics, with no small amount of U.S. approval and assistance; and Japan did not face the same pressures as the FRG due to alliance dynamics.79 As for PRC-Japanese relations, there exist territorial disputes, security concerns, and much more complex economic interests that are absent from FRGIsraeli relations.80 Moreover, the nondemocratic nature of the PRC political system adds an additional wrinkle to interactions between both states and spurs doubts on the Japanese side about the sincerity of PRC discourses concerning history. This being a mini-study, the point here is not to provide a sustained account of all the divergences between the two cases, but rather to present a further illustration of how the dynamics involved in the diplomacy of guilt have played out in a different context. I posit that Japan did also at various times engage in a diplomacy of guilt toward the PRC, primarily in the form of expressive gestures.

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

177

What is of interest from the perspective of this book, however, is how a very different interactive dynamic emerged given the differing international and domestic political incentives facing both sides, some of which themselves were the endogenous consequences of prior mutual choices.81 The PRC choice to waive substantive gestures of reconciliation in the form of reparations arguably played an important role in this, as did the presence of other outstanding issues.

Separated by a Narrow Strip of Water State-to-state relations between the PRC and Japan did not exist in any significant form until 1972. Following the end of World War II, under pressure from the United States, Japan established relations with the Nationalist government in Taiwan and maintained a policy of nonrecognition toward the PRC. While there were limited trade and unofficial contacts between the two states, it was only after U.S. president Richard Nixon visited Beijing in 1972 that the Japanese government saw an opening for establishing diplomatic relations. The key Japanese players in this were Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei and Foreign Minister Ohira Masayoshi, both of whom took office in July 1972 having proclaimed a desire to normalize relations with the PRC.82 Several months before assuming office Tanaka had declared that in regard to normalization with PRC, “the feeling from the heart of apology—my feeling is that this truly needs to be the primary precondition.”83 Significantly, however, this did not appear to be a major issue for the PRC side; early draft statements and communications surreptitiously conveyed to the Japanese side were much more concerned with the status of Taiwan and Japanese treaties with the Kuomintang (KMT) government than the issue of Japanese remorse.84 Moreover, for the PRC the even more pressing issue was gaining recognition to counter a perceived Soviet threat.85 As Ming Wan writes, “the ‘apology issue’ was not on the agenda.”86 Ironically, it was only through a botched attempt on the Japanese side of displaying remorse that the apology issue became salient. On 25 September 1972, Tanaka and Ohira flew to Beijing for negotiations to establish relations with the PRC. That evening, at a welcoming banquet, Tanaka stated that Japan had “caused trouble for Chinese people (meiwaku wo kaketa).”87 The PRC side, based on the equivalent meaning in Chinese of the particular phrase used, viewed such a statement as far too trivializing of the Chinese experience. This elicited an emergency meeting of PRC officials that evening where it was agreed that the Japanese needed to be made aware of the issue of war responsibility.88 The subsequent day, the PRC premier, Zhou Enlai, explained that the phrase, when translated into Chinese, is only used to apologize for very minor inconveniences, and consequently would evoke animosity among the Chinese people.89 As a result, both sides agreed

178

CHAPTER 5

to include a sentence in the communiqué announcing the normalization of relations that would state, “The Japanese side is keenly conscious of the responsibility for the serious damage that Japan caused in the past to the Chinese people through war, and deeply reproaches itself.”90 A second issue was that of reparations. The PRC side had already communicated its willingness to waive claims for reparations, but wanted to ensure that this was perceived as a sign of magnanimity, and not for lack of a legal claim. Specifically, the KMT had already renounced its right to further reparations in 1952, and some on the Japanese side had argued that this precluded PRC claims.91 During negotiations, Zhou argued very strongly against such a position. Still, in a speech one Japanese diplomat described as something to “move one to tears,” he declared that the PRC did not want to inflict on the Japanese people the same suffering it had experienced and thus was abandoning its claims.92 So while the Japanese side did engage in some expressive gestures of remorse, it was not burdened with substantive ones. Over the next decade, there were no further PRC demands for even expressive gestures. Negotiations over a subsequent treaty of peace and friendship between the two sides several years later were much more concerned with the issue of including an “anti-hegemony clause”—something the Japanese side worried would provoke the Soviet Union— than anything to do with apologies.93 The treaty itself, concluded in 1978, contained no word of Japanese wartime responsibility.94 Shortly thereafter, however, as the PRC initiated a series of policies to reform its economy, the Japanese government began what would be a decades-long practice of official development assistance (ODA). According to the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, at the time of writing the PRC has received “approximately 3.1331 trillion yen in loan aid (yen loans), 145.7 billion yen in grant aid, and 144.6 billion yen in technical cooperation.”95 While the Japanese government did have geopolitical and economic reasons for providing such aid, multiple sources have attributed its motivation at least in part to a sense of responsibility for Japanese conduct during World War II.96 As officials at the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs whom the scholar Allen Whiting interviewed stated, “We owe it to China. We must help after all the damage we did to them.”97 Japanese ODA for many years allocated the PRC a special status, providing five-year-long packages to fit PRC central planning, and for decades constituted the largest source of overseas PRC development assistance.98 But if ODA was meant as a substantive gesture of remorse, these intentions remained implicit. It was only in the 1980s that the “history problem” first became a salient, contentious issue between the PRC and Japan. The initial catalyst was reports in 1982 of alleged official demands for changes to Japanese textbooks that would soften language about Japanese war responsibility, reports that were actually

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

179

subsequently retracted.99 This issue also resurfaced in 1986, when a right-wing group sought approval of a textbook with a more nationalist perspective.100 Another source of conflict was the visit in 1985 of Japanese prime minister Nakasone Yasuhiro to Yasukuni Shrine, a Shinto shrine where Japanese war dead, including fourteen Class A war criminals, are enshrined. Both cases elicited strong criticism from the PRC government, not to mention public protests and accusations that Japan was reviving its past militarism. In both cases, however, the Japanese side ultimately took a conciliatory position. After the textbook issue became an international incident, the Japanese government released an announcement that reiterated “Japan’s remorse” and stated that future textbooks would respect “the spirit” of the Japan-China Joint Communiqué described above.101 The prime minister at the time, Suzuki Zenko, visited Beijing to state “the Japanese government’s position that its awareness of the suffering inflicted upon the Chinese people during the war had not changed . . . and errors in the textbooks would be corrected on the government’s responsibility.”102 When the issue came up the second time four years later, then Prime Minister Nakasone forced revisions to answer criticisms again.103 In response to PRC protests to his visiting Yasukuni Shrine, Nakasone announced, “I am going to cancel the visit. China’s reaction to the enshrinement of Class-A war criminals was strong. The imperial army’s conduct, including the Manchuria incident, were [sic] factually excessive.”104 On other occasions he further emphasized that Japan did engage in a war of aggression.105 What is more, when Nakasone’s minister of education rejected those who criticized the textbook and proposed a more revisionist take on history, Nakasone dismissed him.106 A similar incident occurred later in 1988 as well, when the minister of justice, Okuno Seisuke, was forced to resign for claiming that Japan was not the aggressor in World War II.107 Following the violent PRC government crackdown on protestors in June 1989, most prominently around Tiananmen Square, the Japanese government was under significant international pressure to suspend its aid programs. While the Japanese government did put a temporary halt to its ODA programs, within months it had resumed numerous projects.108 In August 1991, Japanese prime minister Kaifu Toshiki was one of the first leaders from the group of sanctioning countries to visit Beijing. When a Japanese cabinet official was asked to explain the relatively muted Japanese response, he answered, “I say clearly that Japan invaded China 40 years ago. Japan cannot do anything against a people who experienced such a war.”109 For its part, the PRC “held diplomatic fire” toward Japan during this period.110 In addition, the 1990s produced multiple official displays of remorse from the Japanese side. This was the peak for the Japanese diplomacy of guilt, although it

180

CHAPTER 5

remained primarily at the expressive and symbolic level. In 1991, Japanese prime minister Kaifu expressed “sincere remorse for Japanese actions in the past which inflicted unbearable suffering and sorrow upon multitudes in the Asia Pacific region.”111 Japanese emperor Akhito, while visiting China in 1992, acknowledged “an unfortunate period in which my country inflicted great sufferings on the people of China. I deeply deplore this.”112 A year later, Japanese prime minister Hosokawa Morihiro first acknowledged that “it was a war of aggression, a mistaken/wrong war” and subsequently expressed “sincere sympathy toward all victims of the war, starting with Asian nations and their families.”113 Two years later, a coalition government between the LDP and the Japanese Socialist Party authored a Diet resolution that stated Japan had engaged in “acts” that inflicted “pain and suffering upon the peoples of other countries, especially in Asia,” and that therefore, “the Members of this House express a sense of deep remorse.”114 Several months later on the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war, however, the coalition prime minister, Murayama Tomiichi, made a much stronger statement, describing Japanese behav ior as “colonial rule and aggression” and expressing “feelings of deep remorse” and “heartfelt apology.”115 While Murayama did not stay in office much longer, as Jane Yamazaki writes, “The long term effects of the speech were even more successful than initially realized. . . . At every occasion where an official apology has been needed in the years following 1995, the model of Murayama’s apology has been used.”116 Indeed, even Murayama’s conservative successor, Hashimoto Ryutaro, would later repeat the same words.117 Still, the 1990s were not without controversy. The 1995 Diet resolution in particular was highly controversial, especially given the diverse views of the two coalition parties, and this had the effect of watering down its text and mitigating its significance. Consequently, the PRC Foreign Ministry explicitly stated that the resolution “would not help change Japan’s global image.”118 The issue of Japanese wartime involvement in the forced prostitution of women from occupied territories, euphemistically labeled “comfort women,” also emerged at this time. While the Japanese government subsequently issued an apology (the “Kōno Statement”) and set up a public fund to provide compensation, activist groups criticized it for not directly offering restitution.119 Additionally, Prime Minister Hashimoto made a personal visit to Yasukuni Shrine in 1996. However, after this again elicited a vehement response from the PRC, Hashimoto announced that he would not return.120 The issue of official Japanese remorse again came to the fore in the context of PRC president Jiang Zemin’s visit to Japan in 1998. Prior to the visit, Japanese prime minister Obuchi Keizo had signed a declaration with South Korea that professed “deep remorse and heartfelt apology.”121 Observing this, the PRC also de-

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

181

manded a written apology during Jiang’s visit. Yet the Japanese side resisted because PRC officials, in contrast to the South Korean government, were unwilling to reciprocate with “a statement of forgiveness.”122 Consequently, the Japanese sentiments conveyed in the resultant declaration were limited to “deep remorse.”123 Nevertheless, during Jiang’s visit Obuchi did verbally express a “feeling of remorse and apologies to China,” and the declaration did include the word “aggression” to describe Japanese wartime conduct toward China.124 Still, having been spurned on the issue of a written apology, Wan writes that for the remainder of his visit, “Jiang seized every opportunity to remind the Japanese of their country’s past aggression against China and the tremendous Chinese loss of life and property at the hands of Japanese. Jiang’s approach caused a major backlash.”125 It was during Koizumi Junichiro’s tenure as Japanese prime minister (2001– 2006), however, that relations between the two states approached a low point. In the lead-up to his election, Koizumi had promised a domestic veterans’ group that he would conduct yearly visits to Yasukuni. This was a move some perceived as aimed at stripping support from a political opponent who had said he would not visit the controversial shrine.126 During his five years as prime minister, Koizumi remained true to his word in spite of domestic criticism, the objections of his own first foreign minister, strident PRC renunciations, and even large Chinese popular protests.127 It also did not help that he assumed office just as a textbook authored by a right-wing group received certification for use in schools, an issue that would again surface in 2005.128 Significantly, Koizumi sought to mitigate the PRC response by engaging in other gestures of remorse. Two months after his first visit to Yasukuni he traveled to Beijing to pay homage at Marco Polo Bridge, site of an incident used as justification for further Japanese invasion into China, and publicly repeated Murayama’s apology.129 But as relations appeared to be improving, Koizumi again visited Yasukuni in 2002, eliciting yet another vehement reaction from the PRC.130 Several months later Koizumi expressed remorse anew for Japanese wartime behav ior, but this did not stop him from going to Yasukuni in 2003. This pattern continued, culminating in Koizumi reiterating feelings of “deep remorse and heartfelt apology” on 15 August 2005, and visiting Yasukuni one last time while still in office on 15 August 2006.131 Throughout, Koizumi consistently sought to separate his visits to Yasukuni from the issue of Japanese contrition, but the PRC side refused this interpretation and accused him of “destroying the basis of SinoJapanese relations.”132 The six subsequent prime ministers that followed Koizumi in rapid succession over the following six years abstained from such visits. Of particular interest is Abe Shinzō, who immediately succeeded Koizumi. Abe was a well-known

182

CHAPTER 5

conservative who had advocated for Yasukuni visits in the past. Upon assuming office, however, he sought to mend relations with the PRC, and thus refrained from visiting the shrine or challenging existing Japanese apologies concerning wartime aggression or the “comfort women” issue.133 This stance changed, however, a year after he assumed office for a second time in 2012. On 26 December 2013 Abe visited Yasukuni. He had expressed regret for not doing so when previously prime minister, so the decision was not completely surprising, even though it went against the recommendations of his foreign minister and many of his advisors.134 The visit came at a time when Abe’s position was secure, with his coalition holding both houses of parliament. Significantly, it also came at a point where Japan’s relations with the PRC and South Korea—the two states most likely to express offense—were already quite frigid. With the PRC, relations were strained due to ongoing territorial issues, and the PRC had recently elicited much international criticism for unilaterally establishing an air defense identification zone over a large swath of the East China Sea, including an area where Japan and China held contesting claims. As for South Korea, the new president, Park Geun-hye, had recently said meeting with Abe would be pointless unless Japan did more to apologize for its past behav ior.135 The reaction to Abe’s visit was swift: both the PRC and South Korea vehemently denounced it.136 Significantly, in a rare public step, the United States also expressed its “disappointment.”137 The Japanese foreign minister Kishida Fumio subsequently held a press conference to declare the Abe government continued to stand by the Murayama and Kōno apologies.138 Abe would also reiterate this same position later.139 At the time of writing, Abe has not undertaken any further visits to Yasukuni.

Analysis As of this writing, the official position of the Japanese Foreign Ministry continues to be that “Japan has always engraved in mind feelings of deep remorse and heartfelt apology with regard to the tremendous damage and suffering that it caused in the past through its colonial rule and aggression to the people of many countries, particularly to those of Asian nations.”140 In surveying relations between the PRC and Japan over the past decades, it is apparent that the Japanese government has at various times engaged in the diplomacy of guilt toward the PRC. On repeated occasions, starting with the establishment of diplomatic relations, Japanese officials have expressed remorse for their state’s wartime behav ior. Moreover, with the exceptions of Koizumi and more recently Abe, many Japanese prime ministers have displayed an important degree of deference to PRC concerns about history textbooks and visits to Yasukuni.

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

183

The diplomacy of guilt implies not only expressive gestures but also an obligation to substantive ones. The expected return on this, however, is recognition by the target as a reformed actor. This dynamic has not played out in PRC-Japanese relations. PRC officials have indeed implied an ongoing obligation on the part of Japan due to the past. Deng Xiaoping, for instance, told Japanese visitors in 1987 that “Japan is indebted to China more than any other nation in the world . . . we are thinking of principle and I think Japan should make much greater contributions in order to assist China’s development.”141 But as noted above, while Japan has provided much aid to the PRC, it was explicitly framed as ODA, not reparations. The PRC choice to waive reparations was seen at the time as a generous gesture, but it also meant that the PRC side was subsequently not required to acknowledge Japan as having provided a sincere gesture of remorse. Given only expressive gestures of contrition from the Japanese side, the PRC government has not fully recognized Japan as a state that has fully repented for its past. Instead, the PRC has maintained the specter of a resurgent militarist Japan as an ever-possible danger in spite of Japanese apologies and decades of declarations of peaceful intentions. The result has been a growing perception in Japan that the PRC is using the “history card” to shore up domestic support and to contain Japan internationally.142 Granted, as Jennifer Lind notes, conservatives in Japan have provided PRC critics with ample ammunition for protest with their attempts to revise history and visits to Yasukuni.143 Yet as Allen Whiting observes, “These protests, publicly reiterated ad infinitum at all levels, in turn irritate and exacerbate rising nationalistic sentiments in Japan, creating an antireaction syndrome.”144 Moreover, such protests may in fact put domestic Japanese proponents of contrition at a disadvantage by casting the issue as one of whether or not to “give in” to PRC pressure. This raises the question of the role of political incentives facing both sides concerning the display and acknowledgment of remorse for wartime behav ior. The Jiang visit in 1998 is instructive in this regard. The Japanese side refrained from providing the written apology the PRC requested because the PRC did not want to offer “forgiveness” in return. As Thomas Berger writes, “A catch-22 situation emerged in which Japan failed to apologize in part because it felt that its apologies would not be accepted, and such apologies as it did—grudgingly—offer tended to be viewed with suspicion because Chinese and Koreans tended to view them as insincere.”145 But taking into account the role of Japan in the PRC’s domestic nationalist discourses and the way in which history can be usefully employed to oppose a larger Japanese role on the international stage, it is not clear what the Japan side could offer to entice the PRC government to recognize it as sincerely repentant and reformed.146 Consequently, if the only international incentive Japanese state actors

184

CHAPTER 5

face is a temporary cessation of criticism, the rising domestic political incentives of appearing to stand up to PRC pressure, especially in light of other disputes, may work against any stronger Japanese diplomacy of guilt. Where the international incentives for presenting an image of remorse are lacking, domestic political incentives and the ideology of the individual who holds the office of Japanese prime minister may thus play a more defining role. It is therefore hardly a coincidence that Abe chose to visit Yasukuni when relations with not only the PRC but also South Korea were already quite poor. Interestingly, at the time of writing Abe appears to have at least temporarily desisted given the—possibly unexpected—U.S. response. To be clear, nothing here is meant to exonerate Japanese official conduct or exculpate it from responsibility for the past. Nothing here excuses the loud revisionist voices that continue to exist on the right within Japanese politics. The simple point is that the diplomacy of guilt has played out in relations between Japan and the PRC, even though it has taken on a dynamic very different from relations between the FRG and Israel. The Japanese government repeatedly issued apologies. But rather than a relationship in which official reparations were exchanged for recognition of the state as reformed and repentant actor, the PRC renounced its right to material compensation, arguably in the interest of quickly establishing relations with favorable terms of recognition to aid in its diplomatic war with Taiwan. Even still, the PRC did later benefit from material transfers and ODA. But while these may have implicitly been linked to a sense of historical obligation, they were not tied to any recognition on the PRC’s part of Japan as sincerely remorseful and reformed. Consequently, there was little to stop the PRC from repeatedly bringing up the issue of history in the 1980s and onward in an accusatory manner. As the issue surfaced in the 1980s and 1990s, the Japanese side did make efforts to show contrition—but without the tacit agreement that the PRC would accept these gestures or overlook discordant notes emanating from the Japanese domestic political arena. Over time, the PRC’s complaints came to be seen in a more cynical matter and domestic political incentives to stand up to the PRC increased. If anything, ongoing PRC criticism has weakened the hand of those most likely to pursue reconciliation by reducing domestic political incentives and increasing popular Japanese bitterness over the history issue. In such a context, space is opened for more conservative political actors such as Abe to push back. Although on the surface this may sound like an analysis based on seemingly cynical interest-based assumptions about costs and benefits, the choices of actors in this interaction are inextricably shaped by implicit understandings of what constitutes the diplomacy of guilt. The apologies, gestures, and actions that the PRC

FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

185

side has at various points framed as obligations stemming from Japanese wartime behav ior are those that fit the logic of guilt outlined in chapter 4. Official Japanese responses have not overtly rejected this, but in many ways can be seen as seeking to negotiate the extent by which the Japanese government and society are bound by that logic.

Further Examples The examples of FRG and Japanese performances of official remorse are in response to major historical events. It does not require a world war, however, to elicit the diplomacy of guilt. On a lesser scale we can also observe numerous instances of states seeking to project the image of remorse. The U.S. government, for example, has at various times employed the diplomacy of guilt in an attempt to lessen the fallout from undesired incidents. The U.S. reaction to the 1999 bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade, cited in chapter 1, is one such case. In response, the diplomacy of guilt was explicitly proposed as foreign policy—a taskforce of various officials from the White House, State Department, and Department of Defense “recommended that U.S. leaders show more remorse in public.”147 A more recent incident in which U.S. soldiers burned Korans in Afghanistan set into motion a similar diplomatic performance. As a result, the U.S. ambassador to Afghanistan delivered a letter to Afghani president Hamid Karzai from President Barack Obama that read, “I convey my deep sympathies and ask you and the people to accept my deep apologies.”148 The commanding general of NATO, John R. Allen, also recorded a statement for broadcast in Afghanistan in which he offered his “sincere apologies for any offense this may have caused, to the president of Afghanistan, the government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan and, most importantly, to the noble people of Afghanistan.”149 Simply, the diplomacy of guilt is present across multiple scales of diplomatic action. The diplomacy of guilt is a means by which state actors seek to rehabilitate the image of their state in the wake of events that they view as having a conceivably harmful legacy. It is one additional concept denoting a complex of expressive and substantive gestures that belongs in the toolbox of international scholars seeking to make sense of state behav ior.

The diplomacies of anger, sympathy, and guilt are specific and recurrent patterns of emotional display that state actors deploy on the international stage. While they involve a departure from politics as usual, these strains of emotional diplomacy can still serve political goals. They constitute meaningful clusters of practices that

186

CHAPTER 5

respectively provide state actors with the ability to draw red lines, signal solidarity, or mitigate the damage of past behav ior. The goal of this chapter has been both to suggest that these strains of emotional diplomacy are not limited to the actors or episodes examined in the preceding chapters and to propose further possibilities for research. In the conclusion, I suggest additional applications and avenues of research beyond these specific strains of emotional diplomacy.

Conclusion

In the episodes examined in preceding chapters, state actors have employed emotional diplomacy to prevent further violations of their interests, to seek to refashion their relations with other states, and to rehabilitate their image on the international stage. Chapter 2 outlined how the People’s Republic of China (PRC) sought to reestablish the status quo in the Taiwan Strait by pursuing a diplomacy of anger that manifested itself not just in rhetoric, but also in its displays of force. These behaviors, in turn, shaped U.S. responses and efforts to assuage the PRC side. Chapter 3 discussed the ways, following the 9/11 attacks, both the PRC and the Russian Federation (RF) engaged in strong enactments of the diplomacy of sympathy in order to put their relations with the United States on a new footing and reframe their own domestic struggles as part of a greater battle against terrorism. Consequently, they found themselves making concessions hard to square with traditional views of great power behav ior. Chapter 4 described how, in order to facilitate its acceptance into “the family of nations,” the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) performed a diplomacy of guilt vis-à-vis Israel that not only imposed material costs, but for decades also curtailed its ability to realize other interests in the Middle East. Understanding these strategies and their respective outcomes requires understanding the nature of emotional diplomacy. Through deploying a team performance of emotional labor, emotional diplomacy offers a means to shape the perceptions of others and steer interactions in ways not possible using traditionally theorized tools of statecraft. Emotional diplomacy endows state actors with the means to frame issues, to alter their own image, and even to transform the course of relationships by harnessing the social meanings associated with emotions and injecting them into international political interactions. But for emotional diplomacy to have any hope of achieving its desired effects, it must appear sincere. This requires not simply performing concerted and collective emotional labor in the form of rhetoric and expressive gestures, but also conforming to the substantive— even costly—expectations associated with a particular emotional response. As the preceding chapters have illustrated, depending on the strain of emotion being displayed, such substantive gestures can range anywhere from assistance without strings attached to aggressive punitive action. Moreover, emotional diplomacy can generate its own games by creating specific possibilities for strategic

187

188

CONCLUSION

responses on the part of its targets, such as challenging a display’s sincerity or seeking to entrap its author. While the proceeding chapters have sought to show traditional notions of statecraft to be incomplete, the theory of emotional diplomacy presented here nevertheless owes important debts to existing approaches to the study of international relations. To rationalist work, it owes its appreciation for the importance of strategic considerations in political action, the role of signals in communicating intentions, and the interactive dynamics of strategic play. To constructivist work, it owes its recognition of the intersubjective constitution of socially meaningful behav ior. And to work on the emotions in international relations, it owes the observation that emotions are a fundamental element of lived human experience. But this book also has something to offer each in return. For those working in a rationalist vein, it outlines the bases for a novel set of strategies and interactive games based upon the instrumental display of emotion. Moreover, it points to the new theoretical possibilities that emerge when we allow strategic players to believe they occupy a world populated with emotions-capable actors. For constructivists, it further thickens the social content of the international realm and draws attention to potential sources of shared understandings in the lived experience of human emotions. And for scholars of emotions in international relations, it elaborates a second-order implication of “emotions mattering”—the appropriation of emotional displays for strategic purposes. In the remaining pages, I would like to suggest even more ways in which to expand on the framework presented here. These possibilities include examining additional strains of emotional diplomacy, investigating more quotidian manifestations, and more thoroughly researching the relationship between official emotion, public emotion, and the “stickiness” of emotional diplomacy. Each contains potential new avenues of research.

Additional Strains Up until this point, this book has focused on the strains of anger, sympathy, and guilt. There exist, however, many other strains conceivably worthy of investigation. Friendship, as embodied in the emotional gestures and substantive obligations that convey amity, is one such possibility. Friendship has been theorized within the constructivist literature as a form of role identity. Alexander Wendt, for instance, defines friendship as an open-ended commitment (1) not to mutually engage in warfare to settle disputes and (2) to come to the other’s aid in case

CONCLUSION

189

of attack.1 But for leaders and diplomats, enacting camaraderie with their counterparts is both a form of individual emotional labor and part of a larger corporate performance of emotional affinity. On a related note, while it might seem odd to suggest happiness is a form of emotional diplomacy with political salience on the international stage, the display of happiness during interactions conceivably does have a role in providing a visible indicator of the quality of a relationship. Emotional shows of friendship and happiness may function as cheap but meaningful signals. In other words, precisely because it is relatively easy to display the superficial emotional trappings of friendship, choosing not to do so can itself be a strong signal of intentions. Another possibility is the flip side of friendship, namely hatred. The foreign policy behavior of Iran, for example, in the past repeatedly evinced hatred toward both the United States and Israel. Enmity, too, has been theorized as a role identity within constructivism, but similarly to friendship, such a theorization glosses over the emotionally performative element of such a relationship. In other words, hatred can also involve significant emotional labor on the part of its practitioners as well as the coordination of a corporately projected image. An interesting question is the extent to which state actors can become rhetorically entrapped in the display of hatred in ways that close off other conceivably advantageous strategic choices. Finally, displays of contempt and disgust within international relations also constitute possible avenues for future research. The apocryphal refusal by U.S. secretary of state John Foster Dulles to shake the hand of PRC premier Zhou Enlai is but one example of such behav ior on the international stage. Israeli diplomats initially engaged in such behav ior toward their FRG counterparts as well. Contempt and disgust can be employed to signal a certain perception of the target that minimizes the possibility for interaction. Correspondingly, the performance of contempt by state actors may work to constitute certain states as pariahs or rogues.2 These are but a few suggestions, and certainly are not exhaustive. The basic point is that analyses of emotional diplomacy need not be limited to anger, sympathy, and guilt, even if these are relatively prominent strains.

Quotidian and Signature Forms of Emotional Diplomacy The empirical studies in this book have focused on extreme events that have an episodic quality. The corresponding forms of emotional diplomacy have been relatively large in scale, involving not just expressive gestures but significant

190

CONCLUSION

substantive actions. Apart from large, situationally specific spikes in state-level emotional behav ior as demonstrated in the preceding chapters, there may also exist a more enduring hum of small-scale emotional performances embedded in the day-to-day practices of international relations. These conceivably work as a barometer of the quality of relations among states and a means to communicate and reaffirm mutual perceptions. As noted in the introduction, there has been a growing interest within international relations in the role of practices—“the socially meaningful patterns of action which, in being performed more or less competently, simultaneously embody, act out, and possibly reify background knowledge in and on the material world.”3 Of particular interest are the routinized and quotidian practices that make state interactions function smoothly. It is difficult to imagine that emotional performance is not part of the communicative practices and economy of social exchange that constitute the diplomatic “everyday.” The theoretical approach offered in this book points to the possible role of micro-practices of emotional labor to convey, maintain, and even repair the condition of relations among states. Researching such practices would require more fine-grained ethnographic work on the micro-politics of diplomatic interactions. Arlie Hochschild’s work on emotional labor in the airline industry offers a suggestive example. Hochschild was able to observe both the training and day-to-day work of flight attendants, achieving a Goffman-scale perspective on interpersonal interactions. The difficulty of replicating such a project with diplomacy as its object would be gaining access to a realm that in many cases prefers and guards secrecy, particularly when dealing with those who are not conationals.4 Nevertheless, it may be possible to indirectly access these processes through transcripts, interviews, and open-source material. Of particular interest would be the ways in which minor or brief expressions of emotion may be either taken as signals of intentions or become points of contention concerning appropriate conduct. It may be that emotional diplomacy permeates day-to-day diplomatic exchange to the extent that traditional understandings of state behav ior have even less traction at the quotidian level. An added and not unrelated issue of interest is that different states may have distinctive signature styles of emotional diplomacy. The baseline pattern of emotional diplomacy may be state-specific, and as such contribute to constituting a state’s reputation on the international stage. The repetitive use of violent, angry rhetoric by the government of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, for example, arguably has shaped how it is viewed by its neighbors and more broadly within the international system. This stands in stark contrast to the diplomatic

CONCLUSION

191

style cultivated by states like Canada or Norway. Indeed, the choice to avoid appearing “overly emotional” or to seem “calm” is itself also a choice to project a particular emotional image with communicative value. There may be different baseline degrees of emotionality or emotional tone present in the foreign policy behav ior of particular states that work to constitute them as specific types of actors.

Official Emotion, Pop u lar Emotion, and “Stickiness” The theoretical and analytical focus of this book has been on official emotion. For these reasons, popular emotion—the unofficial, public expressions of emotion by private citizens within a state—has occupied only a peripheral role in the previous chapters. All the same, at various points this book has nodded to its significance. For instance, in some cases examined in previous chapters, state actors explicitly sought to cultivate or shape particular popular emotional responses. As outlined in chapter 1, the RF government mobilized the Nashi youth movement to lay flowers at the Polish embassy after the death of Polish president Lech Kaczynski. Similarly, after 9/11, it organized a public forum for displays of sympathy and solidarity with the United States. For its part, the PRC after 9/11 sought to prevent the public expression of gloating and schadenfreude. And the FRG government altered its educational measures after anti-Semitic graffiti appeared in Cologne and other cities in 1959 to prevent similar foreign policy debacles. And yet while state actors may seek to elicit or steer popular emotions pertaining to their foreign policies, they may also encounter popular emotions to be a constraining force. FRG chancellor Konrad Adenauer at various times limited the amount of contrition he displayed toward Israel out of concerns for the possibility of domestic backlash.5 The PRC government, especially in the case concerning Japan, arguably was not completely free from fears about popular emotional backlash either. Indeed, the extent to which the PRC government is beholden to public emotions on issues concerning Taiwan and Japan is a question that has elicited much debate within the scholarly community.6 Importantly, these two phenomena—official steering and official constraint— are not necessarily separate. Long, sustained state efforts to present an image of emotional diplomacy may have effects on popular emotions that in turn create

192

CONCLUSION

blowback.7 Repeated justification of a policy of emotional diplomacy to domestic audiences, even efforts at popular mobilization to reinforce the official image being presented, can conceivably create genuine believers. Such effects may not be limited to broader public attitudes, but also shape the personal emotional commitments of state officials who come to believe their own rhetoric, or even new generations that subsequently enter government service.8 This position is bolstered by work in psychology that has found that the performance of an emotion can in some cases elicit that emotion.9 Indeed, given constructivist scholarship we would expect repeated performance to trigger internalization as certain policies become habit.10 Emotional diplomacy—when sustained over long periods of time—can thus theoretically become ingrained in both personal and popular ways detached from its original official motivations. Arguably we can observe such a dynamic in the context of FRG-Israeli relations as examined in chapter 4, whereby a commitment to Israel came to be entrenched in FRG policy and thus persisted even after the FRG was widely seen as rehabilitated. While not the focus of this book, the effects of sustained emotional diplomacy on elite and popular attitudes—and its possibly “sticky” consequences—present promising areas for additional research. As for the question of the exact relationship of popular emotion to official emotion, however, this remains subordinate to the larger question of the relationship of popular emotion to foreign policy making more generally. Scholars like Andrew Ross and Janice Stein have produced exciting work addressing this issue, in particular concerning the possibility of emotional contagion.11 Still, much more remains to be done to theorize the nature of popular emotion, let alone the paths by which it may shape foreign policy. Popular emotion is diverse, inchoate, and contradictory.12 It is not clear to what extent it is pliable and vulnerable to manipulation or rigid and resistant. Moreover, the influence of popular emotion on foreign policy is not likely to be a direct one, but rather one further filtered through the perceptions of policymakers who may or may not view it as significant. All this suggests a complex, expansive, but potentially very fertile field for future research.

This book has sought to add an additional tool to the toolbox of theories international relations scholars use to explain state behav ior: a theory of emotional diplomacy. Emotional discourse, expression, and behavior are a fundamental element of human social existence. This book has sought to bring that insight to bear on the realm of international relations. State actors engage in team performances of emotional labor on a grand, collective scale, and these can shift interactions outside the realm of traditional politics. Without understanding the

CONCLUSION

193

performative logic of and interactive dynamics involved in such displays, the various episodes examined in this book simply do not make sense. That said, emotional diplomacy is likely but one manifestation of the ways in which the emotional dimension of our existence shapes behavior in the international realm. Our efforts to understand the influence of this emotional dimension on international relations have arguably only just begun.

Notes

INTRODUCTION

1. Hochschild 1983. 2. Goffman 1959, 79. 3. For a basic introduction, see Lake and Powell 1999; Morrow 1994; Snidal 2013. 4. For a few representative examples, see Schelling 1966; Schelling 1980; Fearon 1995; Fearon 1997; Kydd 2005. 5. For representative examples, see Adler 2002; Checkel 1999; Hopf 1998; Katzenstein 1996; Kratochwil 1989; Wendt 1999. 6. March and Olsen 1998; Fearon and Wendt 2002. 7. The author thanks Vincent Pouliot for this point. 8. For representative works, see Mercer 2010; McDermott 2004; Crawford 2000; Bleiker and Hutchinson 2008. 9. Schelling 1966, 36–43. 10. For representative examples, see Finnemore and Sikkink 1998; Katzenstein 1996; Klotz 1995; Kratochwil 1989; March and Olsen 1998; Price 1998; Tannenwald 1999; Zacher 2001. 11. Löwenheim and Heimann 2008; Saurette 2006; Fierke 2004; Crawford 2000. 12. Mercer 2005; McDermott 2004. 13. One important exception to this is the work of Roger Petersen on the manipulation of emotions by opponents to external interventions: Petersen 2011. 14. George and Bennett 2005, 75. 1. EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

1. “Medvedev Condoles over Death of Polish President,” TASS, 10 April 2010. 2. “April 12 Declared Day of National Mourning—Medvedev,” TASS, 10 April 2010. 3. “State Duma Members Mourning over Death of Polish President,” TASS, 11 April 2010. 4. “Moscow Remembers Polish Presidential Plane Crash’s Victims,” TASS, 11 April 2010. 5. “Russia to Mark Day of Mourning over Demise of Polish President,” TASS, 12 April 2010. 6. “Russian Press Review of April 19 (Itar-Tass World Service),” TASS, 19 April 2010. 7. “Polish Senate Speaker Commends Russia’s Handling of Smolensk Plane Crash,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 22 April 2010. 8. Ibid. 9. Morgenthau 1973, 519. 10. Nicholas Kulish and Clifford J. Levy, “Deadly Polish Plane Crash Creates Unexpected Bond,” New York Times, 13 April 2010, A8. 11. Goffman 1959, 16–19. 12. Ibid., 208; Jervis 1989, xvi. 13. Jervis 1989, xiv. 14. Ibid., xvi. 15. For the seminal piece in this regard, see Crawford 2000. 16. Mercer 2006; Mercer 2010; McDermott 2004a; McDermott 2004b. 195

196

NOTES TO PAGES 19–28

17. Ross 2006. 18. Fierke 2004; Saurette 2006; Löwenheim and Heimann 2008. 19. Petersen 2011. 20. Hymans 2010, 462. 21. Russell 2004, 394. 22. Löwenheim and Heimann 2008, 702. 23. Ibid., 708. 24. Crawford 2000, 155. 25. Schelling 1966, 36–43. 26. Hochschild 1983. 27. This corresponds to Jervis’s observations about how personal behavior may be read as an index of state intentions, particularly when it is perceived as sincere and natural— hence unfeigned. Jervis 1989, 32–33. 28. Hochschild 1983, ix. 29. Irving 1978, 120. 30. Hochschild 1983. 31. Ashforth and Humphrey 1993. See also Sasley 2011. But the argument presented here suggests that while some individuals may feel emotion because they identify with their state, it is not necessarily all that will, nor is it necessary that all do. 32. Ekman 2003. 33. Goffman 1959, 79. 34. Ibid., 97. 35. Hagan 2001; Byman and Pollack 2001. 36. Hansen 2002, 66. 37. Goffman 1959, 101. 38. Shirk 2007, 214. 39. Campbell and Weitz 2006, 337. 40. Ibid., 336–37. 41. Ibid., 342. 42. Suettinger 2003, 376. 43. Judy Dempsey, “Tragedy as a Catalyst for Change,” International Herald Tribune, 15 April 2010, 2. 44. “Moscow Remembers Polish Presidential Plane Crash’s Victims.” 45. Weiss 2013. 46. Goffman 1959, 12. 47. Jervis 1989, 32–33; Hall and Yarhi-Milo 2012. 48. I deviate slightly from Jervis in this by disaggregating images into expressive and substantive gestures. Jervis breaks images down into signals and indices. According to him, signals are relatively cheap forms of communication; they transmit messages, but are insufficient for demonstrating that an actor is behaving in good faith. Indices, on the other hand, are those forms of behav ior that serve to reveal the sincerity of an actor. In Jervis’s words, “indices carry some evidence that the image projected by state is correct,” and must be perceived as incapable of being manipulated or faked. My categories may seem to be mirror images of those used by Jervis, but there is an essential difference. He defines indices as nonmanipulable indicators of sincerity—thus seemingly beyond the control of an actor—because his focus is on the potential for deception within international relations. I, however, am interested in the possible costs entailed in maintaining the appearance of sincerity or consistency and thus draw the line of division at whether or not an action carries a substantive price. In other words, certain costly behaviors may be necessary for an actor not to contradict earlier expressive gestures, thus qualifying under my definition as substantive, but still not be a fully reliable index in Jervis’s sense. It is a fine distinction,

NOTES TO PAGES 28–43

197

but one that will be important for subsequent analytical sections. In this manner, my conceptualization is closer to rationalist work on cheap versus costly signals, as I shall elaborate subsequently. See Jervis 1989, pref. and chaps. 1–2. 49. Schimmelfennig 2003. 50. For a few representative examples, see Schelling 1966, 1980; Fearon 1995; Fearon 1997; Kydd 2005. 51. Lake and Powell 1999. 52. Wendt 1999. 53. Wendt 2004. 54. Jervis 1989, 32–33; Hall and Yarhi-Milo 2012. 55. Fearon 1994; Weeks 2008. 56. Ekman 1994; Izard 1991; Lazarus 1994; Cornelius 1996, 172–75. 57. Panksepp 1994. 58. Ekman 1994. 59. For representative examples of this scholarship, see Wendt 1999; Bull 1977. 60. Morgenthar 1973, 519. 61. Ruggie 1998. 62. These include neorealist, neoliberal, and many existing rationalist works on international relations. 63. There are, however, a few instances where scholars have been allowed to research foreign policy making in progress. One excellent example is Iver B. Neumann’s work on the Norwegian Foreign Ministry: Neumann 2012. 64. Morgenthau 1973, 519. 65. Ibid. 2. THE DIPLOMACY OF ANGER

1. RMRB, 27 July 1995, 1. 2. Nathan 1999, viii. 3. The other incidents being between India and Pakistan. 4. Suettinger 2003, 251. 5. See Bush and O’Hanlon 2007; Carpenter 2004; Copper 2006. 6. See Ross 2000, 112–18; Thies and Bratton 2004, 556–84; Zhao 1999c. Zhao does not, however, theorize coercion. 7. Ding 2003, 379. 8. Ross 2000, 96. 9. Whiting 2001; Zhao 1999a; Zhao 1999c; Nathan 1996; Xin 2002; Ross 2000; Thies and Bratton 2004. 10. Schelling 1966, 1–7; George 1994a, 1–2; Byman and Waxman 2002, 1–10; Art 2003, 7–10. 11. Schelling 1966, 69–78. 12. George 1994b, 7–8. 13. Ibid. 14. Lauren 1972. 15. George 1994c, 17–19. 16. Schelling 1966, 1–6. 17. Possibly most explicit in applying the lens of coercion to PRC behavior are the analyses offered by Robert Ross, Walter Thies, and Patrick Bratton. Thies and Bratton label PRC threats as “compellent.” Robert Ross writes, “China used coercive diplomacy to threaten costs until the United States and Taiwan changed their policies.” Thies and Bratton 2004, 563; Ross 2000, 88.

198

NOTES TO PAGES 43–52

18. Thies and Bratton 2004, 571. 19. RMRB, 21 June 1995, 1. See also RMRB, 6 June 1995, 4; 10 June 1995, 3; 12 June 1995, 6; 13 June 1995, 6; 18 June 1995, 1. 20. RMRB, 5 July 1995, 4. 21. Robert Suettinger, former director for Asian Affairs on the National Security Council, author’s interview, December 2008. 22. George 1994c, 18. 23. Shambaugh 1995, 241. 24. RMRB, 10 June 1995, 3. 25. JFJB, 21 March 1996, 1. 26. RMRB, 9 August 1995, 4; 19 September 1995, 1; 17 March 1996, 3. 27. Byman and Waxman 2002, 7–8; Art 2003, 382–83. 28. George 1994c, 20–21. 29. Alternately they could claim that PRC behavior conformed to what Schelling terms a “rock the boat” strategy of threatening risks to get a target to believe that further punishment will come if they are noncompliant. But this still raises the question, further explored later in this section, of why the PRC “rocked” in the way it did, with angry rhetoric, symbolic punitive gestures, and an emphasis on the wrongdoing of the other side. (I thank Avery Goldstein for this point.) 30. Ross 2000; Thies and Bratton 2004. 31. Tucker 2009, 217. 32. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 24 July 1995. 33. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 11 August 1995. 34. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 19 October 1995. 35. R. Jeffrey Smith, “China Plans Maneuvers off Taiwan; Big Military Exercise Is Meant to Intimidate, U.S. Officials Say,” Washington Post, 5 February 1996, A1; originally quoted in Suettinger 2003, 244. 36. Andrews 1993. 37. Aristotle 2006, 51. 38. For general reviews of anger and its associated behaviors, see Averill 1982, 318–25; Lazarus 1991, 217–27; Schieman 2007, 494–95; Sander and Scherer 2009, 32–33. 39. I have in other work, however, explicitly contrasted Chinese writings on anger with those in mainstream American scholarship in order to ensure that I was not assuming similarity where it did not exist. Chinese sources provided very similar characterizations, and what I found mirrors the outline presented here. See Hall 2008, 142–47; for writings on anger in Chinese, see Feng 1991, 93–98; Meng 2005, 94–97, 160–61; Meng 1989, 268– 69, 321–23; Liu 1999, 238–40; Luo 1989, 33–35. 40. Averill 1982, 318. 41. Aristotle continues, “putting up with being dragged through the mud oneself and standing by watching it happen to people who belong to one is slavish.” Aristotle 2006, 51; see also Schieman 2007, 508–9. 42. Lazarus 1991, 226. 43. Averill 1982, 325. 44. Ibid., 321–22. The economist Robert Frank has suggested that anger actually solves the commitment problem of actors to punish those who wrong them, even when such behav ior is costly. Frank 1988, 83. 45. Fearon 1997; Weeks 2008; Sartori 2002. 46. Zou 2005, 17. 47. Jervis 1976, 19. 48. See Gill and Kleiber 2007, 2–6. 49. Schelling 1966, 36–43.

NOTES TO PAGES 53–58

199

50. Ekman 2003. 51. Crawford 2000, 155. This parallels, and adds an emotionally reinforcing dynamic to existing arguments about audience costs. See Fearon 1994; Weeks 2008. 52. Hickey 1997; Rigger 1999, 155; Huang and Lin 2006, 80–91. 53. Jia 1992; Xu 2007, 15–18; Cheung 2001, 76. 54. Zhang 2004, 1084–88. 55. Chen 1999, 140–41. 56. Huang and Lin 2006, 214. 57. Mann 1998, 274–91; Su 1998, 674–80. 58. Winston Lord, “Taiwan Policy Review,” State Department Dispatch, Vol. 5, No. 42 (1994). 59. “Hearing of the House International Relations Committee, Asia and the Pacific Subcommittee,” Federal News Service, 9 February 1995. 60. Suettinger 2003, 217. 61. Christopher 1998, 287. 62. Steven Greenhouse, “Clinton Rebuffs Senate on Letting Taiwan President Visit U.S.,” New York Times, 11 May 1995, A6. 63. Mann 1998, 322–24. 64. Tao 2004, 263. 65. Mann 1998, 325. 66. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 22 May 1995. 67. RMRB, 23 May 1995, 1. 68. While not always apparent in English, in Chinese there is often a clear differentiation in words that are neutral (i.e., describe an objective state) and those that carry emotional connotations (ganqing secia). One example is the word xingjing, which is translated into English as “action” or “behav ior”; in Chinese however it carries a strong degree of disapproval or criticism. 69. RMRB, 23 May 1995, 1. 70. Ibid. 71. RMRB, 24 May 1995, 1. 72. Ibid. 73. Tyler 1999, 416. 74. RMRB, 25 May 1995, 1. 75. RMRB, 27 May 1995, 1. 76. RMRB, 26 May 1995, 6. 77. Liu 2001, 69. 78. Ibid., 70. 79. RMRB, 29 May 1995, 1. 80. Qian 2003, 265. 81. Tao 2004, 266. 82. Suettinger 2003, 221. 83. Jiang 1996, 327; Gary Gerew, “Syracuse Airport Prepares Welcome for Taiwan President Diplomatic Furor Prevents Lee Teng-Hui From Landing in New York City,” PostStandard (Syracuse), 7 June 1995, A8. 84. Mann 1998, 326. 85. Suettinger 2003, 219. 86. “Taiwan Leader Wraps Up Milestone Visit,” Associated Press Worldstream, 11 June 1995. 87. Liu 2001, 71; Dan Southerland, “Lee Visit Turns into a Balancing Act; Governments, Groups Jockey to Put Spin on U.S. Trip by Taiwan Chief,” Washington Post, 9 June 1995, A8.

200

NOTES TO PAGES 58–61

88. See, for example, Romberg 2004, 166; Jiang 1996, 482–84. 89. Teng-Hui Lee, “Always in My Heart.” The Spencer T. and Ann W. Olin Lecture delivered at Cornell University Alumni Reunion, Cornell University, Ithaca, New York, 1995. Available at: http://cns.miis.edu/straittalk/Appendix%2080.htm, accessed August 2008. 90. Ibid. For a full account of Lee’s writing of the speech, see Zou 2001, 264–67. 91. Zhao 1999b, 113. 92. Jiang 1996, 484. 93. RMRB, 18 June, 1995, 1. 94. Ibid. 95. See RMRB 26 May 1995, 6; 30 May 1995, 6; 8 June 1995, 4; 9 June 1995, 6; 10 June 1995, 3; 11 June 1995, 2; 12 June, 1995, 6; 13 June 1995, 6; 16 June 1995, 6; 18 June 1995, 1; 20 June 1995, 6; 26 June 1995, 7; JFJB, 25 May 1995, 4; 8 June 1995, 4; 10 June 1995, 4; 16 June 1995, 3. 96. Liu 2001, 72. 97. Garver 1997, 73. 98. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 21 June 1995. 99. RMRB, 23 June 1995, 1. 100. Shambaugh 1995, 241. 101. Suettinger 2003, 231. 102. RMRB, 17 June 1995, 1. 103. Jiang 1996, 332. 104. Ibid. 105. “PLA Announces Missile-Launch Training on East China Sea,” Xinhua News Agency, 18 July 1995 (Item No. 071813). 106. Specifically: “a circular sea area with a radius of 10 nautical miles with the central point being 26 degrees 22 minutes north and 122 degrees 10 minutes east.” “PLA Announces Missile-Launch Training on East China Sea,” Xinhua News Agency, 18 July 1995 (Item No. 0718139). 107. Fischer 1997, 170. 108. RMRB, 24 July 1995, 1; 27 July 1995, 1. 109. Fischer 1997, 168. 110. Jiang 1996, 336. 111. “Mainland’s Missile Tests Cost Taipei Fishing Industry $15m,” Straits Times, 12 September 1995, 11. 112. Kuhn 2004, 267–68. 113. Qian 2003, 305–6. 114. Willy Lam, “Get Tough with Taiwan and US, Generals Tell Jiang,” South China Morning Post, 17 July 1995, 1; Kuhn 2004, 268. 115. The strategic and deliberate element of this choice comes into relief when contrasted to the subdued nature of the PRC’s earlier response to the U.S. decision to sell Taiwan F-16s in 1992. At that time the PRC did make its objections known, but its response was comparatively muted. Specifically, it was PRC leader Deng Xiaoping who imposed restraint. Deng was aware Bush made the decision to preserve jobs and shore up votes and still preferred Bush to his rival candidate for the presidency, Bill Clinton. Moreover, Deng did not want to harm PRC chances at renewal for Most Favored Nation trading status with the United States. Therefore the PRC reaction was previously more limited. Suettinger 2003, 142–43; Mann 1998, 270; Romberg 2004, 152–53; Garver 1997, 52–53; Scobell 2000, 231. 116. Qian 2003, 308. 117. Wang 2003, 192.

NOTES TO PAGES 61–63

201

118. Chinese scholars also describe PRC behav ior in these terms. See for instance, Su 1998, 743; Su 2009, 259. 119. Such as “brazenly” (gongran), “crudely” (cubao), and “wantonly” (dasi). 120. Swaine 2001, 322–24. 121. Yu and Jia 2010, 355. For more on the significance of these commentaries, as well as the general significance of commentaries published in the People’s Daily and by Xinhua, see Li and Qi 2009, 238–39. 122. According to Lam, the move to military tactics represented the victory of PLA hardliners over moderates in the PRC government, with both Jiang and Qian being forced to make self-criticisms. Garver, Suettinger, Shirk, and Zhao side with Lam in their views of the situation within the PRC leadership; they claim that it was PLA generals pushing the hardest for a forceful response. Swaine and You, however, take a more consensual view of the PRC decision-making process, stating that there might have been differences of opinion about the exact policy to be followed, but that in the wake of Lee’s visit, PRC leaders were essentially in agreement that an aggressive policy was needed. My own research tends to support the latter view, but a number of sources noted that the Foreign Ministry’s status had declined after the visa was issued. It is probably safe to say that if there had been advocates for a “softer” line toward Taiwan and the United States, they were either silenced or convinced otherwise by the middle of June. See Lam, “Get Tough with Taiwan and US, Generals Tell Jiang”; Swaine 2001, 322–24; You 1996, 199–225; Bush 2005a, 8–11; Garver 1997, 61–63; Suettinger 2003, 225; Zhao 1999b, 116; Shirk 2007, 188–89. 123. Elaine Sciolino, “U.S. Offers China 2 Olive Branches, but Not on Taiwan,” New York Times, 29 July 1995, 3. In fact, according to one interview source in the PRC, a number of scholars had actually argued that Clinton would eventually bow to the pressure— they were, however, sternly rebuffed by a representative of the Foreign Ministry who upbraided them for having no understanding of the situation, repeatedly emphasizing that the U.S. government had already given its word. 124. A Lexis-Nexis news search for the terms “Taiwan and China and Lee and angry or anger or fury or furious or ire or outrage or enrage” for the period 21 May 1995 to 1 September 1995 returns over five hundred hits. 125. Dryer 1997, 34; Fischer 1997, 169; Garver 1997, 72; Rigger 1999, 175; Scobell 2003, 241; Suettinger 2003, 220; Tao 2004, 565; Tucker 2009, 217; Zhao 1999b, 120; Xin 2002. 126. Christopher 2001, 244; Christopher 1998, 287. 127. Winston Lord, former assistant secretary of state, author’s interview, September 2009. 128. Carter and Perry 1999, 94. 129. “Interview with J. Richard Bock,” The Foreign Affairs Oral History Collection. Available at: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/D?mfdip:2:./temp/~ammem_wkzJ::, accessed April 2011. 130. Former U.S. ambassador to the PRC Stapleton Roy, author’s interview, February 2009. 131. “National Press Club Luncheon Speaker Secretary of State Warren Christopher,” Federal News Service, 28 July 1995. 132. Romberg 2004, 170. 133. Suettinger 2003. Qian, however, writes in his memoirs that the letter stated the United States “opposed ( fandui) Taiwan independence.” Qian 2003, 312. This was also the wording used by the official account of the meeting published in the People’s Daily. See RMRB, 2 August 1995, 6. 134. Qian 2003, 312. 135. Ibid. 136. Liu 2001, 84.

202

NOTES TO PAGES 63–67

137. “Commentary: Cold War Thinking, Hegemonic Logic,” Xinhua News Agency, 23 August 1995, originally cited in Suettinger 2003, 236. 138. Qian 2003, 313. 139. Ibid. 140. Tao 2004, 268. 141. Suettinger, author’s interview. 142. Ross 2000, 97–99. 143. RMRB, 29 September 1995, 6. 144. Xiong 2006, 360. 145. RMRB, 19 October 1995, 1. 146. John Harris “Clinton, Jiang Confer; Thaw in Relations Seen; Differences With China Remain, U.S. Aides Say,” Washington Post, 24 October 1995, A1; Xiong 2006, 361. 147. “Assistant Chief of PLA General Staff Confers with U.S. Guests,” Xinhua News Service, 15 November 1995 (Item No. 1115144). 148. Suettinger 2003, 243–44; Ross 2000, 103. 149. Smith, “China Plans Maneuvers off Taiwan”; originally quoted in Suettinger 2003, 244. 150. Marcus Eliason, “China Pleased with Gore Meeting; Relations ‘Back on Track,’ ” Associated Press, 18 November 1995; RMRB, 19 November 1995, 1. 151. Ibid. 152. “Interview with Winston Lord,” The Foreign Affairs Oral History Collection. Available at: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?ammem/mfdip:@field%28DOCID +mfdip2004lor02%29, accessed April 2011. 153. Suettinger, author’s interview. 154. Ibid. 155. Tucker 2009, 217. 156. Suettinger, author’s interview. 157. Anthony Lake, former national security advisor, author’s interview, September 2009. 158. Government Information Office 1997, 29. See also Zou 2001, 268. 159. Tucker 2009, 199. 160. Jiang 1996, 530–33. 161. Ross 2000, 96. 162. Lin et al. 2006, 152. 163. Jiang 1996, 494–505. 164. Lin et al. 2006, 153. 165. Ibid. 166. RMRB, 24 August 1995, 1. 167. Ibid. 168. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 11 August 1995. 169. See, for example, RMRB, 1 September 1995, 11; 20 September 1995, 4; 21 September 1995, 1; 29 September 1995, 11. 170. RMRB, 29 September 1995, 11. 171. Junshi Kexue Yuan Junshi Lishi Yanjiusuo 2007, 517; Su 1998, 745. 172. Garver 1997, 93. 173. Lin et al. 2006, 159; Junshi Kexue Yuan Junshi Lishi Yanjiusuo 2007, 517. 174. Lin et al. 2006, 161. 175. “Relations with China,” BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 20 November 1995. 176. Rigger 1999, 168–72. 177. Rigger 1999, 172. 178. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 16 January 1996.

NOTES TO PAGES 68–70

203

179. Ibid. The United States did, however, send an aircraft carrier, the USS Nimitz, through the Taiwan Strait in December. The official reason given after the transit was inclement weather, but it was later revealed to have been done “at the discretion of the Pacific commander in chief.” There is some question as to whether this was known by the PRC before Taiwan publicized it the following year. See Tucker 2009, 219; Ross 2000, 105. 180. RMRB, 31 January 1996, 1. 181. JFJB, 31 January 1996, 4. 182. RMRB, 17 February 17 1996, 2. 183. Garver 1997, 99–100. 184. Mann 1998, 335; Fischer 1997, 183. 185. Tucker 2009, 219. 186. Suettinger 2003, 250. 187. Tien 1995. 188. Ibid., 39; Rigger 1999, 174. 189. “PLA to Conduct Missile Launching Trainings in East, South China Seas,” Xinhua News Agency, 5 March 1996 (Item No. 0305024). 190. Garver 1997, 100–101. 191. “PLA to Conduct Missile Launching Trainings.” 192. RMRB, 7 March 1996, 4. 193. RMRB, 9 March 1996, 1. 194. RMRB, 10 March 1996, 1. 195. Office of Naval Intelligence, “Chinese Exercise Strait 961: 8–25 March 1996” (Washington, DC: ONI Public Release, 1996). Available at: http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv /NSAEBB/NSAEBB19/, accessed August 2012. 196. Peter Montagnon and Laura Tyson, “Chinese Cloud over Taiwan Stocks— Emerging Markets,” Financial Times, 11 March 1996, 28; “Taiwanese Rush for Gold, US$ ahead of China Missile Tests,” Business Times, 8 March 1996, 1. 197. Suettinger 2003, 253; Tyler, 1999, 144. 198. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 7 March 1996. 199. “Chinese Spokesman on US Reaction to PLA’s Missile-Launching,” Xinhua News Service, 7 March 1996 (Item No. 0307180). 200. Suettinger 2003, 253. 201. Ibid.; Tyler, 1999, 144. 202. Tyler 1999, 32. 203. Suettinger 2003, 254. 204. Lampton 2001, 53. 205. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 8 March 1996. 206. Clinton 2005, 703. 207. “House International Relations Committee, Subcommittee on Asia and the Pacific Hearing,” Federal News Service, 14 March 1996. 208. Suettinger 2003, 258; Federal News Service, “The U.S., China, and Taiwan,” 25 March 1996. 209. “The U.S., China, and Taiwan.” 210. “Defense Department Regular Briefing” Federal News Service, 19 March 1996. 211. “Interview with Winston Lord.” 212. Suettinger 2003, 257. 213. “Interview with Winston Lord.” 214. “Interview with Howard H. Lange,” The Foreign Affairs Oral History Collection. Available at: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/D?mfdip:3:./temp/~ammem_wkzJ::, accessed April 2011. 215. Suettinger 2003, 255.

204

NOTES TO PAGES 70–75

216. Mann 1998, 336–37; Suettinger 2003, 255. 217. Christopher 1998, 426. 218. Carter and Perry 1999, 98. 219. “Interview with Winston Lord.” 220. RMRB, 12 March 1996, 1. 221. Office of Naval Intelligence, “Chinese Exercise Strait 961.” 222. Ibid. 223. Ibid.; Fischer 1997, 173. 224. “PLA’s Missile Launching Trainings End,” Xinhua News Agency, 15 March 1996 (Item No. 0315145); Xinhua News Agency, “PLA to Conduct Joint Ground, Naval, Air Exercises in Taiwan Straits,” March 15, 1996 (Item No. 0315144). 225. See, for example, RMRB, 18 March 1996, 4; 20 March 1996, 5; 21 March 1996, 4; 23 March 1996, 4. 226. RMRB, 23 March, 1996, 4. 227. Ibid. 228. Ross 2000, 116. 229. “PLA Military Exercises in Taiwan Straits Successful,” Xinhua News Agency, 25 March 1996 (Item No. 0325097). 230. “The U.S., China, and Taiwan,” Federal News Service, 25 March 1996. 231. “Independence Sailing Back to Yokosuka From Taiwan,” Japanese Economic News Wire, 27 March 1996. 232. “Inaugural Address by Lee Teng-hui.” Available at: http://www.taiwan-panorama .com/en/show_issue.php?id=199668506016E.TXT&table=2&h1=About%20Taiwan&h2 =Politics, accessed April 2011. 233. Zou 2001, 286–87. 234. You 1996, 123. 235. Ross 2000. 236. Ibid., 117; Kan 2003, 4. 237. Roy, author’s interview. 238. “Interview with Winston Lord.” 239. Chen 2003, 83; Ma 1999, 64; Wu 2004, 57; Gong and Xie 2010, 116; Tao and He 2009, 298. 240. Nathan and Ross 1997, 206. 241. Sutter 2008, 201. 242. Shirk 2007, 265. 243. Lake, author’s interview. 244. Ibid. 245. Suettinger 2003, 263. 246. Xu 1999, 70. 247. Bush 2005b, 219–21. 248. Xu 1999, 261. 249. Guowuyuan Taiwan Shiwu Bangongshi 2006, 131. 250. Suettinger 2003, 384. 251. Ibid., 383–84. 252. Tucker 2009, 241. 253. Shirk 2007, 192. 254. “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 12 July 1999; “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 15 July 1999. 255. Bush 2003, 16. 256. Liu 2001, 263. 257. Sheng 2002, 47.

NOTES TO PAGES 75–84

205

258. A number of Chinese scholars have also described the PRC response as displaying anger. See Gong and Xie 2010, 112, 14; Su 1998, 743; Lin et al. 2006, 150; Sun 2009, 259. 259. For more on anger words, see Feng and Huang 2004, 704–11. For an evaluation of the various degrees of severity of anger words in diplomatic exchange, see Yan 2010, 731–34. 260. A cursory count based on a limited number of articles for the period between the decision to grant Lee a visa and Clinton’s meeting with Jiang in New York that fall already put the number of times the three communiqués were mentioned at 125; for the principle of “one China” that number is 185. 261. Scobell 2000, 238. 262. McDermott 1998. 263. Ross 2000, 104. 264. Ibid. 265. Weiss 2013. 266. Shirk 2007, 189. 267. Reilly 2011. 268. Wachman 2007, 27. 269. Ding 2003, 379. 270. Su 1998, 743. 3. THE DIPLOMACY OF SYMPATHY

1. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “September 18, 2001—Interview with the German Newspaper Bild,” 18 September 2001. 2. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “November 7, 2001—Interview with the American Broadcasting Company ABC,” 7 November 2001. 3. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Freezes Terrorists’ Assets,” 24 September 2001; Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Bush and President Putin Talk to Crawford Students,” 15 November 2001; Bush 2010, 196. The national militia in Russia was, though, put at readiness, and airspace around Moscow and St. Petersburg was closed. 4. Rice 2011, 75. 5. U.S. Department of State, “A Selected Chronology of Key Events, September 11, 2001—Present (Washington, DC: Office of International Information Programs, 2002). Available at: http://usinfo.state.gov/journals/itgic/0902/ijge/gjchron.htm, accessed August 2008. 6. Thomas Christensen, personal communication with author, September 2009. 7. Buckley 2003, 221–38; Black 2004, 105–34; “Russian President Gives Extensive News Conference in the Kremlin,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 18 July 2001. 8. Buckley 2003, 221–38; Black 2004, 105–34. 9. Li 2005, 264–78. 10. Mearsheimer 2001, 5. 11. Neither would one expect such behav ior from an offensive realist perspective. For if great powers fear one another as much as offensive realists such as John Mearsheimer argues, the RF and PRC should have done whatever they could to hinder or complicate U.S. military expansion into their region. Mearsheimer 2001. 12. Cummings 2003, 239–51. 13. Jackson 2002, 373–400; “Russian Army Paper Eyes Growing Western Presence in Central Asia,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 26 January 2002. 14. Colin Powell, former secretary of state, author’s interview, February 2009. 15. “Hearing of the House International Relations Committee,” Federal News Service, 6 February 2002.

206

NOTES TO PAGES 84–87

16. “Pakistan: Musharraf Addresses Nation, Defends Siding with USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 19 September 2001. 17. And this fits with the neo-utilitarian notions of state behav ior found in neoliberal and defensive realist writings, whereby states are “egotistical value maximizers,” opportunistic actors unconcerned with moral limitations. While these “egotistical rationalists” care about their security, they are more capable of cooperation when it brings benefits and in some circumstances can escape the preoccupation with relative gains. Ruggie 1998, 855– 85; Baldwin 1993, 9; Keohane and Martin 1995, 39–51. 18. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Bush and Russian President Putin Discuss Progress,” 21 October 2001. 19. “Press Release: President Discusses National Missile Defense,” Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, 13 December 2001; Black 2004, 155. 20. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “December 13, 2001—A Statement regarding the Decision of the Administration of the United States to Withdraw from the Antiballistic Missile Treaty of 1972,” 13 December 2001. 21. Ibid. 22. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “December 17, 2001: Interview with the Financial Times,” 17 December 2001. 23. Donaldson and Nogee 2009, 343. 24. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Announces Reduction in Nuclear Arsenal,” 13 November 2001; Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Bush and President Putin Talk to Crawford Students,” 15 November 2001. 25. “Defense Department Special Briefing, Re: Results of the Second Nuclear Posture Review,” Federal News Service, 9 January 2002. 26. Michael Wines, “Russia Assails U.S. Stance of Arms Reduction,” New York Times, 12 March 2002, A4. 27. Primakov 2004, 67. 28. Black 2004, 139–54; Jackson 2002, 373–400. 29. Paul Ames, “Citing Terror Attacks, Putin Calls for Closer Security Cooperation with EU and NATO,” Associated Press, 3 October 2001. 30. “Ari Fleischer Holds White House Briefing,” FDCH Political Transcripts, 26 September 2001. 31. “Hearing of the House International Relations Committee,” Federal News Service, 6 February 2002; “Prepared Statement of George J. Tenet before the Senate Select Intelligence Committee,” Federal News Service, 6 February 2002; “State Department Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 10 January 2002. 32. U.S. State Department, Country Reports on Human Rights Practices (Washington, DC: Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, 2001). 33. “Russian Foreign Ministry Strongly Criticizes U.S. State Dept. Report on Human Rights,” Interfax News Agency, 7 March 2002. 34. Donaldson and Nogee 2009, 348. 35. Rice 2011, 93. 36. “China Spokesman on Jiang Zemin Conversation with Bush after Terrorist Attacks,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 14 September 2001. 37. Guo 2005, 228. 38. Lampton and Ewing 2002, 17. 39. Li and Xic 2010, 192. 40. Lieber and Press 2006a; Lieber and Press 2006b. 41. “China Urges USA to Listen to Others on Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 14 December 2001.

NOTES TO PAGES 88–94

207

42. “FM Spokesman: China Opposes U.S. Sanctions,” Xinhua News Service, 5 September 2001. 43. Rice 2011, 518. 44. “Media Availability with Secretary of State Colin Powell and Chinese Foreign Secretary Tang Jiaxuan Following Their Meetings,” Federal News Service, 21 September 2001; Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: U.S., China Stand Against Terrorism,” 19 October 2001. 45. U.S. State Department, “Transcript: Coordinator for Counterterrorism’s Remarks in Beijing,” 6 December 2001. 46. Kan 2005, 5. 47. Powell, author’s interview. 48. Lo 2003, 125. 49. Swaine 2005. 50. Powell, author’s interview. 51. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “November 7, 2001—Interview with the American Broadcasting Company ABC,” 7 November 2001. 52. Lawrence Wilkerson, former member of State Department Policy Planning Staff, personal communication with author, December 2008. 53. Powell, author’s interview. 54. Mercer 1972, 5. 55. Clark 1997, 43–44. 56. Clark 1987, 296–300; Lazarus 1991, 289–90; Nussbaum 2001, 321; Wispé 1991, 71–76. 57. Wispé 1991, 71–76. 58. Clark 1987, 296–300; Lazarus 1991, 289–90. 59. Lazarus 1991, 44–45. 60. Eisenberg 1986, 31. 61. Wispé 1991, 314–21. 62. Clark 1997, 56–79. 63. Ibid., 63–64. 64. Ibid. 65. Mercer 1972, 11. 66. Eisenberg 2000, 678. I use the term “sympathy” here—following Eisenberg, Wispé, Clark, and others—to describe an emotion involving expressed concern for a distressed other, but one also can find it described under different labels (compassion, concern, sorrow-altruism, internalized other-distress). Regardless of whether this actually denotes a “basic emotion” (should such things exist), these labels all point to the perception that there does exist a certain type of emotional response that involves feeling for an injured other and a desire to assist said suffering party. Wispé 1991; Clark and Schmitt 2007; Lazarus 1991. 67. Wispé 1991, 84–89. Chimpanzees, for example, will wrap their arms around fellow group members that have recently suffered attacks or been defeated in fights: De Waal 2006, 29–36. 68. Clark and Schmitt 2007, 487–88. 69. That said, where relevant, I will reference material and events appearing after the above time period to allow for the possibility of a time lag in the emergence of payoffs or at least the evidence thereof. 70. “Vladimir Putin Sends Telegram of Sympathy to US President,” RIA Novosti, 11 September 2001. 71. “Vladimir Putin: ‘It Is a Brazen Challenge to the Whole Humanity’,” Komsomolskaya Pravda, 12 September 2001, 3.

208

NOTES TO PAGES 94–97

72. “Russian Defence Minister Sends Condolences to US Armed Forces, Offers Help,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 September 2001. 73. Rumsfeld 2011, 344. 74. E. Larina and D. Bulgakov, “Putin ‘Deeply Shocked’ by U.S. Tragedy,” Russia Journal, 36, 2001, 1. 75. Yuri Ushakov, “Sympathy from Russia,” Washington Post, 13 September 2001. 76. “The White House Regular Briefing,” Federal News Service, 12 September 2001. 77. Ibid. 78. “Vladimir Putin and George W. Bush Agree That Russia and US Should Be ‘Closer to Each Other,’ ” RIA Novosti, 12 September 2001. 79. “Russia Urges International Response to Terror Attacks on US,” Agence France Presse, 12 September 2001. 80. “Russia Ready to Help Probe U.S. Terrorist Attacks—Spokesman,” Interfax News Agency, 12 September 2001. 81. “Putin Offers Help in US Rescue Work, Orders Extra Security,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 12 September 2001. 82. Leonid Vinogradov, “Far Eastern Regional Centre Ready to Send Rescuers to NY,” TASS, 12 September 2001. 83. “Russian Cabinet Marks Minute’s Silence for Victims of Terrorism in USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 13 September 2001. 84. Oskana Yablokova, “Stunned Russians Open Hearts in Sympathy,” Moscow Times, 13 September 2001, No. 2283. 85. Ibid. 86. Greenwood 2002, 306–13. 87. NATO Press Office, “Press Statement (2001 13 Sept): Meeting in Extraordinary Session of the NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council at Ambassadorial Level,” 13 September 2001. 88. “Russian Premier Arrives in Kazakhstan to Attend Regional Leaders Meeting,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 13 September 2001. 89. “Shanghai Cooperation Organization Premiers Condemn Terrorism,” RIA Novosti, 14 September 2001. 90. “Official Kremlin Int’l News Broadcast: Press Conference with Under Secretary of State for Arms Control and International Security John Bolton,” Federal News Service, 17 September 2001; “Russia, USA Downplay Differences over NMD, ABM Treaty,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 19 September 2001. 91. “Russian-American Working Group for Afghanistan to Hold Meeting in Moscow,” Interfax News Agency, 19 September 2001. 92. Elizabeth Jones, former Assistant Secretary of State for European and Eurasian Affairs author’s interview; Woodward 2002, 103. 93. “Secretary of State Press Releases: Remarks with Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov,” Federal News Service, 19 September 2001. 94. Shevtsova 2005, 206. 95. Bush 2010, 196. 96. Ibid.; Woodward 2002, 196. 97. Bush 2010, 196. 98. Ibid. 99. John Iams, “Putin Consults by Phone with Central Asian Leaders,” Associated Press, 23 September 2001. 100. “Full Text of Putin’s Televised,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 25 September 2001. 101. Ibid. 102. Jones, author’s interview; Black 2004, 143; Herspring and Rutland 2005, 273.

NOTES TO PAGES 97–100

209

103. Cummings 2003, 239–51. 104. “US, British Leaders Told Putin about Operation Beginning,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 8 October 2001. 105. “Russia Supports Anti-Terrorist Operation in Afghanistan,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 7 October 2001; Sergei Yakovlev, “Terrorists Provoke Leading States to Act as They Do: Putin,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 8 October 2001. 106. “Russia Completes First Stage of Aid to Afghanistan,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 7 October 2001; “Russia Opens Three Air Corridors for US Aircraft,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 8 October 2001. 107. Vanora Bennett, “Russian Forces ‘Already in Action,’ ” The Times, 11 October 2001; “Russia Denies Sending Troops to Afghanistan,” ITAR-TASS News Agency, 11 October 2001. 108. Rice 2011, 94. 109. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: President Bush and Russian President Putin Discuss Progress,” 21 October 2001. 110. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “State Visit to the United States of America—Chronicle.” Available at: http://www.president.kremlin.ru/eng/events /chronicle/2001/11/142348.shtml, accessed December 2014. 111. Woodward 2002, 304. 112. Nabi Abdullaev, “Il-76s Fly Aid Teams into Kabul,” Moscow Times, 27 November 2001. 113. Black 2004, 152–53. 114. Moscow Views Bonn Talks Serious Stage in Afghan Settlement,” Xinhua News Service, 27 November 2001; “Russia Hails UN Resolution on Afghan Settlement,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 7 December 2001; Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7234: Security Council Endorses Afghanistan Agreement on Interim Arrangements Signed Yesterday in Bonn, Unanimously Adopting Resolution 1383 (2001),” 6 December 2001. 115. David Rohde, “Afghan Leader is Sworn In, Asking for Help to Rebuild,” New York Times, 23 December 2001, A1. 116. “Afghan Leader Seeks Aid from Russia,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 21 January 2002. 117. Primakov 2004, 68. 118. Rumsfeld 2011, 344. 119. Wilkerson, personal communication with author. 120. “Russian Presidential Aide Expects International Cooperation against Terrorism,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 September 2001. 121. Mankoff 2009, 112; Primakov 2004, 69. 122. “Hearing of the House International Relations Committee,” Federal News Service, 6 February 2002. 123. Tsygankov 2010, 138. 124. Shevtsova 2005, 206; Mankoff 2009, 112–13; Donaldson and Nogee 2009, 347; Primakov 2004, 69. 125. “Hearing of the House International Relations Committee,” Federal News Service, 6 February 2002. 126. Shevtsova 2005, 205. 127. Presidential Press and Information Office, the Kremlin, “November 7, 2001—Interview with the American Broadcasting Company ABC.” 128. Wu Jianmin 2007, 342. 129. Wu also claims that Jiang responded quickly, calling the White House at 1:47 a.m. (Beijing time) to denounce terrorism, express sympathy, and convey sorrow for the victims and their family. Wu Jianmin 2007, 342–43.

210

NOTES TO PAGES 101–103

130. “China: Jiang Zemin Sends Letter to US President Bush on Terrorist Attacks,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 September 2001. The Chinese text used the terms shenqie weiwen and chengtong aidao. RMRB, 12 September 2001, 1. 131. Qian 2003, 408; see also Li Peng 2008, 789. 132. “China’s Spokesperson Issues Statement on Attack on USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 September 2001. 133. RMRB, 13 September 2001, 4. 134. Shirk 2007, 88–89. 135. “Chinese Premier in Kazakhstan Says World Must Unite against ‘Terrorism,’ ” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 12 September 2001. 136. “MOFTEC Sends Condolence Message to U.S., XINHUA,” Xinhua News Service, 12 September 2001. 137. RMRB, 13 September 2001, 4. 138. “China Helps American Tourists Stranded in the Country, XINHUA,” Xinhua News Service, 12 September 2001; RMRB, 13 September 2001, 4. 139. Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7143: Security Council Condemns, ‘In Strongest Terms’, Terrorist Attacks on United States,” 12 September 2001. 140. Ibid. 141. Tao and He 2009, 344. 142. “China Spokesman on Jiang Zemin Conversation with Bush after Terrorist Attacks,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 14 September 2001. 143. Ibid. The Chinese text used the terms shenqie weiwen and chengtong aidao. RMRB, 13 September, 2001, 1. 144. “China Spokesman on Jiang Zemin Conversation with Bush after Terrorist Attacks.” 145. “China’s Qian Qichen Discusses Terror Attack with Colin Powell over Phone,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 14 September 2001. 146. “Shanghai Cooperation Organization Premiers Condemn Terrorism,” RIA Novosti, 14 September 2001. 147. Jason Leow, “China Pledges to Fight Terrorism,” Straits Times, 14 September 2001, 1. 148. Ibid. 149. Suettinger 2003, 363–64. 150. Tang 2009, 296–97; “Chinese Foreign Minister Arrives in USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 20 September 2001. 151. Barry Schweid, “Europeans, Saudi Arabia Rally to Support the United States Against Terrorism,” Associated Press, 20 September 2001. 152. Tang Jiaxuan, “Deepen Mutual Understanding, Build up Mutual Trust and Promote Healthy Development of China-US Relations.” Speech at US-China Business Council, 20 September 2001. 153. John Pomfret, “In China, Anti-U.S. Sentiment Unfettered,” Washington Post, 14 September 2001, A26; Kuhn 2004, 471. 154. John Pomfret, “China Censors Anti-U.S. Reaction,” Washington Post, 15 September 2001, A19. 155. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China, “Foreign Ministry Regular Press Conference by Spokesman Zhu Bangzao,” 18 September 2001. 156. Mann 2004, 297; Lam 2006, 215; “Press Conference with Mr. He Yafei, Deputy Chief of Mission,” Federal News Service, 18 September 2001. 157. Mann 2004, 298; “Press Conference with Mr. He Yafei, Deputy Chief of Mission.” 158. “China Denies Journalists Expelled from US after Terror Strikes,” Agence FrancePresse, 18 September 2001.

NOTES TO PAGES 103–105

211

159. Li 2008, 792. 160. Zhou 2009, 264. 161. “Pakistan: Musharraf Addresses Nation, Defends Siding with USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 19 September 2001. 162. “Media Availability with Secretary of State Colin Powell and Chinese Foreign Secretary Tang Jiaxuan Following Their Meetings.” 163. “State Department Regular Briefing, Briefer: Richard Boucher, Department Spokesman,” Federal News Service, 26 September 2001; Kuhn 2004, 1. 164. Ibid. 165. “Press Roundtable with Adm. Dennis Blair, Commander, U.S. Pacific Command, Hong Kong,” Federal News Service, 18 April 2002. 166. Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7143: Security Council Unanimously Adopts Wide-Ranging Anti-Terrorism Resolution,” 28 September 2001; Greenwood 2002, 301–17. 167. RMRB, 1 October 2001, 1; Jim Randle, “China Praises Pakistan’s ‘Tough Stand’ on Terror,” Federal News Service, 1 October 2001. 168. “China Expresses Total Support for Pakistan over Regional Crisis,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 1 October 2001. 169. RMRB, 9 October 2001, 1. 170. “Chinese, U.S. Presidents Talk over Phone,” Xinhua News Service, 8 October 2001. 171. During the 1990 Gulf War, the PRC had abstained on the UN resolution authorizing the use of force against Iraq. 172. “U.S. Assistant Secretary Visits China,” Xinhua News Service, 10 October 2001; “State Department Regular Briefing, Briefer: Richard Boucher, Department Spokesman,” Federal News Service, 10 October 2001. Arms proliferation was also a major issue, but little headway was made—the United States did not end up lifting its sanctions against Chinese firms for exporting missile technology to Pakistan. See “State Department Regular Briefing, Briefer: Richard Boucher, Department Spokesman.” 173. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: U.S., China Stand against Terrorism,” 19 October 2001. 174. Ibid. 175. United Nations General Assembly, “A/56/PV.16: General Assembly, Fifty-Sixth Session, 16th Plenary Meeting,” 3 October 2001; Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7207: Security Council Calls on All States to Intensify Efforts to Eliminate International Terrorism,” 13 November 2001. 176. “China, USA End Anti-Terrorism Talks, Reach ‘Broad-Ranging Consensus,’ ” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 6 December 2001. 177. U.S. State Department, “Transcript: Coordinator for Counterterrorism’s Remarks in Beijing.” 178. Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7210: Afghanistan, One of UN’s Greatest Challenges, At ‘Most Urgent Stage,’ ” 13 November 2001. 179. “China Wants a Role in Rebuilding Afghanistan—Foreign Ministry Spokeswoman,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 20 November 2001. 180. “China Welcomes Interim Afghan Government, Pledges Assistance,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 6 December 2001; “China Congratulates Interim Afghan Government,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 22 December 2001. 181. Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Press Release SC/7248: Security Council Authorizes International Security Force for Afghanistan,” 20 December 2001; “China: Foreign Ministry Spokesman on Shanghai Six Consensus,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 8 January 2002; “China ‘Poised to Offer’ 1m Dollars in Aid to Afghanistan,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 21 January 2002.

212

NOTES TO PAGES 105–117

182. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China, “Foreign Ministry Regular Press Conference by Spokesman Zhu Bangzao,” 18 September 2001. 183. “China Condemns Foreign Media for Artificially Linking Anti-Terrorism Statements,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 20 September 2001. 184. Wu 2007, 345. 185. Wilkerson, personal communication with author. 186. Rice 2011, 518. 187. Zhou 2009, 264. 188. U.S. State Department, “Transcript: Coordinator for Counterterrorism’s Remarks in Beijing.” 189. Wilkerson, personal communication with author. 190. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, “Fiscal Year 2003 Foreign Affairs Budget,” 5 February 2002. 191. Wu 2007, 346. 192. Powell, author’s interview. 193. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “President Delivers State of the Union Address,” 29 January 2002. 4. THE DIPLOMACY OF GUILT

1. Vogel 1967, 61–62. 2. Deutschkron 1991, 62. 3. Joffe 1992, 195. 4. Maull 1992, 115. 5. Ibid. 6. Wolffsohn 1989. 7. Germany 1982, 329. 8. Buettner 2003, 122. 9. Theis 1989, 236–40; Jelinek 2004, 217–42. 10. Jelinek 2004, 235–42. 11. Wolffsohn 1986, 33. 12. Buettner 2003, 123. 13. Weingardt 2002, 118. 14. Maull 1992, 115. 15. Osterheld 1992, 169. 16. Joffe 1992, 195–98. 17. Ibid., 195. 18. Ibid. See also Buettner 2003. 19. Feldman 1984. 20. Lind 2008. 21. Levy 1992. 22. He, 37–40. 23. Lind 2008, 197. 24. Berger 2009, 346. See also Berger 2012. 25. Katchadourian 2009, 21–24; Elster 1999, 150–51; Stets and Turner 2007, 551–53; Lazarus 1991, 240–43; Lindsay-Hartz et al. 1995, 274–81. For German-language sources, see Bartosch 1982, 37–48; Wurmser 1997, 134–35; Geppert and Heckhausen 1990, 18; Hilgers 1996, 1; Schwan 1997, 217. 26. Katchadourian 2009, 23; Taylor 1987, 91. 27. Katchadourian 2009, 22–24; Tangney 1995, 116–17.

NOTES TO PAGES 117–125

213

28. Rowe 1756, 268. 29. Tangney 1995, 117. 30. Taylor 1987, 90; Mascolo and Fischer 1995, 68; Schwan 1997, 217. 31. Lindsay-Hartz et al. 1995, 291–92; Stets and Turner 2007, 552. 32. Tangney 1995, 116–17. 33. Elster 1999, 153; Mascolo and Fischer 1995, 67–68; Taylor 1987, 93; Tangney 1995, 119–20; Lindsay-Hartz et al. 1995, 288–98. Significantly, the German word commonly used in the literature for this goal is Wiedergutmachung, which translates literally as “the act of making things good again.” See Landweer 1999, 4; Schwan 1997, 6; Geppert and Heckhausen 1990, 183–185; Schultheiss 1997, 99. 34. Elster 1999, 153. 35. Tangney 1995, 118. 36. Taylor 1987, 93; Elster 1999, 153; Lindsay-Hartz et al. 1995, 289. 37. In German, these terms are expressed with the words Schuld (guilt), bedaueren (to regret), and Reue (remorse). 38. Roccas et al. 2006. 39. In German, the corresponding terms are Scham (shame), sich schämen (be ashamed), bedaueren (to regret), and Reue (remorse). 40. See Heuss 1964, 122. 41. The corresponding German terms here are wiedergutmachen and sühnen. 42. Negash 2006, 10–11. 43. Barkan 2001. 44. See, for example, Kampf and Löwenheim 2012; Cohen 2004. 45. Berger 2009, 348. See also Berger 2012, 248. 46. Berger 2012, 44. 47. Adenauer 1967, 132. 48. Ibid. 49. Primor 1997, 1–33; Jelinek 2004, 40–44; Hansen 2002, 25–26. 50. Jelinek 2004, 40–44; Hansen 2002, 25–26. 51. Document Nr. 3, ZMR. 52. Hansen 2002, 66. 53. Schwartz 1991, 176. 54. Hansen 2002, 54. 55. Vogel 1987, 27. 56. Document Nr. 10, ZMR. 57. Deligdisch 1974, 21. 58. Jelinek 1991, 32. 59. Blankenhorn 1980, 138. 60. Vogel 1987, 16. 61. Ibid., 17. 62. Theis 1989, 45. 63. Deutschkron 1991, 13–15; Jelinek 2004, 47. 64. Jelinek 2004, 47. 65. Feldman 1984, 66–75; Balabkins 1971, 96–118. 66. Hansen 2002, 36–67; Jelinek 2004, 56–64. 67. Document Nr. 8, ZMR. 68. Hansen 2002, 67–74. 69. Deutschkron 1970, 33. 70. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953f, 16. 71. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953e, 24.

214

NOTES TO PAGES 126–131

72. Ibid. 73. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953d. 74. Document Nr. 15, ZMR. 75. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1991. 76. Document Nr. 13, ZMR. 77. Hansen 2002, 89. 78. Shinnar 1967, 25. 79. Jelinek 2004, 96; Hansen 2002, 95. 80. Shinnar 1967, 25. 81. Hansen 2002, 123. 82. Jelinek 2004, 113. 83. Vogel 1967, 36. 84. Ibid. 85. Hansen 2002, 41. 86. Vogel 1967, 36. 87. Heuss 1964, 122. 88. Vogel 1967, 37. 89. Ibid. 90. Jelinek 2004. 91. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953b. 92. Ibid. 93. Hansen 2002, 133; Document Nr. 23, ZMR. 94. Goldmann 1980, 377. 95. Ibid., 384. 96. Ibid., 385. 97. Adenauer 1967, 138. 98. Ibid. 99. Goldmann 1980, 380–81. 100. Boord 2001; Feldman 1984, 47; Kurzman 1983, 336–39. 101. Balabkins 1971, 121. 102. Hansen 2002, 159. 103. Jelinek 2004, 172. 104. Halpern and Wurm 1966, 146. 105. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953b. 106. Jelinek 2004, 172. 107. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953b. 108. Deligdisch 1974, 27. Although it should be noted that the atmosphere loosened somewhat on the second day when Felix Shinnar, the deputy chairman of the Israeli delegation, discovered that Otto Küster, Böhm’s representative, had attended the same school (Realgymnasium) in Stuttgart. See: Vogel 1967, 46. 109. Wolffsohn 1989. 110. Document Nr. 92, 1952, AAPD. 111. Ibid. 112. Ibid. 113. Document Nr. 95, 1952, AAPD. 114. Hansen 2002, 187–88. 115. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953c. 116. Ibid. 117. Document Nr. 20, ZMR. 118. Germany 1982, 329. 119. Vogel 1987, 63.

NOTES TO PAGES 131–140

215

120. Germany 1982, 328–30. 121. Ibid., 348. 122. Ibid. 123. Goldmann 1980, 393. 124. Vogel 1987, 66. 125. Hansen 2002, 227–28. 126. Adenauer 1967, 147. 127. Goldmann 1980, 397. 128. Ibid., 398; Adenauer 1967, 151–52. 129. Hansen 2002, 231–36. 130. Germany 1982, 397. 131. Ibid., 398. 132. Jelinek 2004, 205–6. 133. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1953a. 134. Hansen 2002, 259. 135. Goldmann 1980, 406. 136. Adenauer 1967, 157. 137. Vogel 1987, 93. 138. Krekel 1996, 40. 139. Deligdisch 1974, 35–39. 140. Included in this sum were the payments the FRG agreed to pay the Jewish Claims Conference. Israel was to receive goods and services and then reimburse the Jewish Claims Conference for its share. See Weingardt 1997, 19. 141. Krekel 1996, 37. 142. Weingardt 1997, 20–23. 143. Feldman 1984, 98. 144. Lewan 1975, 43. 145. Vogel 1987, 106. 146. Adenauer et al. 1984, 423. 147. Adenauer 1967, 158. 148. Hansen 2002, 342. 149. Adenauer 1975, 266. 150. Deutschkron 1970, 30. 151. Jelinek 2004, 112. 152. Document Nr. 95, 1952, AAPD. 153. Adenauer 1975, 267. 154. Ibid., 266. 155. Adenauer et al. 1984, 249. 156. Vogel 1987, 63. 157. Adenauer 1967, 132–35. 158. Jelinek 2004, 198–99. 159. Adenauer 1975, 267. 160. Blankenhorn 1980, 138. 161. Document Nr. 30, ZMR. 162. Document Nr. 23, ZMR. 163. Jelinek 2004. 164. Halpern and Wurm 1966, 154. 165. Document Nr. 59, ZMR. 166. Weingardt 2002, 110. 167. Vogel 1987, 98. 168. Document Nr. 110, ZMR.

216

NOTES TO PAGES 140–148

169. Ibid. 170. Hansen 2002, 399. 171. Document Nr. 114, ZMR. 172. Hansen 2002, 399–421; Deligdisch 1974, 52–53; Weingardt 2002, 106–10. 173. Document Nr. 121, ZMR. 174. Hansen 2002, 424. 175. Ibid.; Weingardt 2002, 107. 176. Document Nr. 112, ZMR. 177. Document Nr. 123, ZMR. 178. Hansen 2002, 481. 179. Vogel 1987, 137. 180. Peres 1970, 71. 181. Ibid., 72. 182. Hansen 2002, 487; Vogel 1987, 143. 183. Vogel 1987, 140. 184. Feldman 1984, 126. 185. Weingardt 2002, 118. 186. See Document Nrs. 145, 147–49, 154, ZMR. 187. Document Nr. 160, ZMR. 188. Hansen 2002, 492. 189. Ibid., 539. 190. Weingardt 2002, 127; Meining 2005. 191. Hansen 2002, 541. 192. Ibid., 542. 193. Document Nr. 173, ZMR. 194. Weingardt 2002, 127. 195. Hansen 2002, 548. 196. Vogel 1987, 151. 197. Hansen 2002, 548; Jelinek 2004, 412. 198. Vogel 1987, 150. 199. Document Nr. 194, ZMR. 200. Ibid. 201. Jelinek 2004, 348–51. 202. Vogel 1987, 176–77. 203. Document Nr. 187, ZMR. 204. Jelinek 2004, 348–51; Vogel 1987, 190–92. 205. Vogel 1987, 191. 206. Hansen 2002, 571. 207. Document Nr. 211, ZMR. 208. Document Nr. 76, 1964, AAPD; Weingardt 2002, 129. 209. Hansen 2002, 482. 210. Deutschkron 1991, 254–55. 211. Strauss 1989, 342. 212. Vogel 1987, 254. 213. Document Nr. 222, ZMR; Document Nr. 164, 1964, AAPD; Weingardt 2002, 141; Deutschkron 1970, 236–37. 214. von Hindenburg 2007, 82–84; Hansen 2002, 670. 215. Vogel 1987, 247. 216. Document Nr. 289, 1964, AAPD; Jelinek 2004, 410. 217. Jelinek 2004, 412–13; von Hindenburg 2007, 89–91. 218. Jelinek 2004, 414.

NOTES TO PAGES 148–154

217

219. Document Nr. 164, 1964, AAPD. 220. Document Nr. 289, 1964, AAPD. 221. Deutschkron 1991, 259. 222. Buettner 2003, 134. 223. Document Nr. 2, 1965, AAPD. 224. Jelinek 2004, 448; Document Nr. 306, 1964, AAPD. To this day, it is not clear who was responsible for the leak; see Hansen 2002, 693–94. 225. Ibid.; Document Nr. 314, 1964, AAPD. 226. Ibid. 227. Ftn. 5, Document Nr. 315, 1964, AAPD. 228. Ibid. 229. Document Nr. 315, 1964, AAPD. 230. Document Nr. 352, 1964, AAPD. 231. Ibid. 232. Ibid. 233. See ftn. 3, Document Nr. 352, 1964, AAPD. 234. Document Nrs. 9–10, 1965, AAPD. 235. Lavy 1996, 97–99. 236. Document Nr. 41, 1965, AAPD. 237. Document Nr. 48, 1965, AAPD. 238. See ftn. 2, Document Nr. 59, 1965, AAPD. 239. Hansen 2002, 716–17; Document Nrs. 70, 73, 1965, AAPD. 240. Ftn. 14, Document Nr. 73, 1965, AAPD. 241. Ftn. 22, Document Nr. 70; Document Nr. 73, 1965, AAPD; Shinnar 1967. 242. Document Nr. 77, 1965, AAPD. 243. Document Nr. 70, 1965, AAPD. 244. Ftn. 19, Document Nr. 70, 1965, AAPD. 245. Shinnar 1967, 156. 246. Hansen 2002, 726. 247. Jelinek 2004, 455. 248. Document Nr. 84, 1965, AAPD. 249. von Hindenburg 2007, 142–43; Barzel 1979, 25. 250. Ftn. 47, Document Nr. 84, 1965, AAPD. 251. Document Nr. 85, 1965, AAPD. 252. Document Nr. 88, 1965, AAPD. 253. Document Nr. 79, 1965, AAPD. 254. Barzel 1979, 27–28. 255. Document Nrs. 58, 77, 88, 1965, AAPD. 256. Document Nr. 53, 1965, AAPD. 257. Ibid. 258. Hansen 2002, 505. 259. Ibid., 354; von Hindenburg 2007, 65. 260. Hansen 2002, 709; von Hindenburg 2007, 113. 261. Document Nr. 104, 1965, AAPD. 262. Deutschkron 1991, 280–81. 263. Ibid. 264. Document Nrs. 101, 111, 112, 1965, AAPD. 265. Document Nr. 112, 1965, AAPD. 266. Hansen 2002, 750. 267. Barzel 1979, 45; Osterheld 1992, 168–69. 268. Jelinek 2004, 458.

218

NOTES TO PAGES 154–160

269. Barzel 1979, 46. 270. Osterheld 1992, 169. 271. Ibid. 272. Ibid., 229. 273. Vogel 1987, 262. 274. Ibid. 275. Birrenbach 1984, 102. 276. Hansen 2002, 759. 277. von Hindenburg 2007, 89. 278. Weingardt 2002, 146. 279. Document Nr. 9, 1965, AAPD; Weingardt 2002, 141. 280. Ftn. 11, Document Nr. 133, 1965, AAPD. 281. Shinnar 1967, 162–63; Jelinek 2004. 282. Document Nr. 120, 178, 1965, AAPD. 283. Document Nrs. 163, 167, 172, 178, 1965, AAPD. 284. Hansen 2002, 818. 285. Ben-Natan 2005b, 29. 286. Vogel 1987, 269–70. 287. Ibid., 270. 288. Hansen 2002, 764. 289. Document 119, 1965, AAPD. 290. Document 143, 1965, AAPD. 291. Ibid. 292. Ibid. 293. Hansen 2002, 798. 294. Document Nr. 20, 1965, AAPD. 295. von Hindenburg 2007. 296. The Israeli side did however raise new claims for health damages suffered by victims of the Nazi regime, which in turn caused FRG officials to worry that they might make their claims public. See Document Nr. 332, 1966, AAPD. 297. Ben-Natan 2005a, 103. 298. Ibid. 2005, 189. 299. Document Nr. 190, 1967, AAPD; Document 335, 1973, AAPD. 300. Document 337, 1973, AAPD. 301. Document Nr. 66, 1970, AAPD. This was not boundless, however. Frank argued that “this must find its limits when it threatens the peace,” meaning the stability of the Middle East. 302. Vogel 1987, 489. 303. Kevin Costelloe, “Brandt Says Germany Responsible for Israel’s Safety,” Associated Press, 20 December 1990. 304. Otto von der Gablentz, former ambassador to Israel, author’s interview, March 30, 2005. 305. Rita Süssmuth, former president of the German parliament, author’s interview, 27 July 2005. 306. von der Gablentz, author’s interview. 307. Hans-Jaochim Noack. “Die Totale Beistandschaft [The Total Solidarity],” Der Spiegel, 4 February 1991, 32–33. 308. Michael Sheridan, “Crisis in the Gulf: Genscher Jeered by Bitter Israelis,” Independent, 25 January 1991, 7. 309. “Deutsche Raketen Sollen Jetzt Israel Verteidigen Helfen [German Rockets Should Now Help Defend Israel],” Berliner Zeitung, 26–27 January 1991, 1; Genscher 1995, 913.

NOTES TO PAGES 160–166

219

310. Herbert Kremp, “In Einer Schicksalhaften Stunde Zeigen Die Israelis Weder Angst Noch Panik [In a Fateful Hour, the Israelis Show neither Fear nor Panic],” Die Welt, 16 January 1991, 6. 311. Süssmuth, author’s interview. 312. Noack, “Die Totale Beistandschaft,” 33. 313. Süssmuth, author’s interview. 314. von der Gablentz, author’s interview. 315. Burkhard Hirsch, former vice president of the German parliament, author’s interview, March 27, 2005; Otto Schreiner, member of the German parliament, author’s interview, June 15, 2005; Konrad Weiß, former member of the German parliament, author’s interview, June 28, 2005. 316. Ibid. 317. Süssmuth, author’s interview. 318. Herbert Kremp, “Blaß Und Geduckt Erträgt Genscher Israels Tribunal [Pale and Cowering Genscher Bears Israel’s Tribunal],” Die Welt, 26 January 1991, 3; Noack, “Die Totale Beistandschaft”; J. Ungar, “Schwerer Stand Für Deutsche in Israel [A Difficult Position for the Germans in Israel],” Berliner Zeitung, 7 February 1991; Hugh Carnegy, “Cool Reception for Genscher in Tel Aviv,” Financial Times, 25 January 1991, 2; “Das Wird Ein Schwieriges Jahr [It Will Be a Difficult Year],” Der Spiegel, 28 January 1991, 18–23. 319. Elon 1998, 207–8. 320. Navon 2005, 193. 321. Ibid. 322. Nassauer and Steinmetz 2003, 19. 323. Ibid. 324. These were financed by Germany but bought from the United States—Patriot missiles in Germany were anti-aircraft and not anti-missile weapons. See Kaiser and Becher 1992, 36. 325. “Bundestags-Drucksache 12/535,” Deutscher Bundestag. Bonn, 2001. 326. Terrence Petty, “Germany Offers Israel Patriots, Anti-Gas Gear,” Associated Press, 30 January 1991. 327. Balaj 1997, 370. 328. “Das Wird Ein Schwieriges Jahr,” 17; Hubel 1991, 55. 329. “Ich Habe Kurs Gehalten [I Held the Course],” Der Spiegel, 4 February 1991, 32– 38. 330. Joel Brinkley, “Israel Gets $670 Million in German Aid,” New York Times, 1 February 1991, 11. 331. von der Gablentz, author’s interview. 332. Document Nr. 148, 1965, AAPD. 333. Ibid. 5. FURTHER STUDIES IN EMOTIONAL DIPLOMACY

1. “Protest in Cambodia—Thai Embassy in Flames,” Bangkok Post, 30 January 2003. 2. U.S. State Department, Report to the Congress on the Anti-Thai Riots in Cambodia on January 29, 2003 (Washington, DC: Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs, 2003). 3. “Protest in Cambodia—A Serious Blow to Bilateral Ties, Says Shocked PM,” Bangkok Post, 30 January 2003; “Envoy Recalled, Apology Rejected,” Bangkok Post, 31 January 2003. 4. “Envoy Recalled, Apology Rejected.” 5. “Take a Deep Breath,” New York Times, 6 March 2008, A30; Simon Romero, “Venezuela Threatens War with Colombia: Cross-Border Raid in Ecuador Territory,” International

220

NOTES TO PAGES 166–167

Herald Tribune, 4 March 2008, 6; “Ecuadoran President Correa Meets Chavez, Insists OAS Condemn Colombian Incursion,” BBC World Monitoring Americas, 6 March 2008. 6. Lugar 2008, 30. 7. Marcella 2008, 2–3. 8. Lugar 2008, 27. 9. “Ecuador Says FARC Leader Reyes Killed in Sleep, Incursion Planned,” BBC World Monitoring Americas, 4 March 2008. 10. Marcella 2008, v. 11. “Correa: Uribe Lied, only a Massacre Took Place,” El Universo, 2 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eluniverso.com/2008/03/02/0001/8/06AF92A3F8EE43C0BFE39935B 32B2042.html, accessed September 2011. 12. Maggy Ayala Samaniego, “Correa expulsa al embajador colombiano en Quito [Correa Expels the Colombian Ambassador in Quito],” El Tiempo, 3 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eltiempo.com/archivo/documento/MAM-2848713, accessed September 2011. 13. Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Comercio e Integración, “Ecuador Rompe Relaciones Diplomáticas con Colombia [Ecuador Breaks Diplomatic Relations with Colombia],” Boletín de Prensa No. 146, 3 March 2008; “Ecuador protesta y expulsa al embajador de Colombia [Ecuador Protests and Expels the Colombian Ambassador],” El Universo, 3 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eluniverso.com/2008/03/03/0001/14/D 0782642414F4B18B25D75E325F184CE.html, accessed September 2011. 14. Romero, “Venezuela threatens War with Colombia.” 15. Sala de Prensa, Presidencia de República de Colombia, “Respuesta de la Cancillería de Colombia al Gobierno de Ecuador [Response of the Colombian Chancellery to the Government of Ecuador],” 2 March 2008. 16. “Ecuador protesta y expulsa al embajador de Colombia.” 17. Sala de Prensa, Presidencia de República de Colombia, “Comunicado [Communication],” 3 March 2008. 18. “Correa Slams Uribe as ‘Mendacious and Insolent’ during Visit to Panama,” EFE News Service, 7 March 2008. 19. “OEA convoca reunión extraordinaria por disputa Colombia-Ecuador [OAS Holds Special Session for the Dispute between Colombia and Ecuador],” El Universo, 3 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eluniverso.com/2008/03/03/0001/14/1F493BCC3B104970A59E BAB70D772DEA.html, accessed September 2011. 20. Lugar 2008, 15–16. 21. “Correa endurece sus críticas en Venezuela después de su reunión con Lula en Brasilia [Correa Sharpens His Criticism in Venezuela after His Meeting with Lula in Brasilia],” El Universo, 6 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eluniverso.com/2008/03/03 /0001/14/1F493BCC3B104970A59EBAB70D772DEA.html, accessed September 2011. 22. “Presidentes de Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador y Nicaragua pasaron de los insultos a los abrazos [The Presidents of Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador and Nicaragua Go from Insults to Hugs],” El Tiempo, 7 March 2008. Available at: http://www.eltiempo.com /archivo/documento/CMS-3992207, accessed September 2011. 23. Ugarriza 2008, 10. 24. “XX Cumbre de Jefes de Estado y de Gobierno del Grupo de Río [Twentieth Summit of the Heads of State and Government of the Rio Group],” transcript, Santo Domingo, 7 March 2008. Available at: http://www.radiomundial.com.ve/yvke/download.php?id =3793, accessed October 2011. 25. Ugarriza 2008, 9. 26. “XX Cumbre de Jefes de Estado y de Gobierno del Grupo de Río.” 27. Ibid.

NOTES TO PAGES 167–171

221

28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. Ibid. 32. Jose Cordoba, “Colombia Crisis Nears Resolution; Dominican Leader Urges Venezuela and Ecuador to Resolve Standoff,” Wall Street Journal, 8 March 2008, 5. 33. Ibid. 34. Lugar 2008, 19. Ecuador would see further vindication in the 17 March OAS report which stated that “a violation of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Ecuador and of principles of international law” had occurred. Ibid., 30. 35. “Presidentes de Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador y Nicaragua pasaron de los insultos a los abrazos.” 36. Jane Perez and Helene Cooper, “Signaling Tensions, Pakistan Shuts NATO Route,” New York Times, 1 October 2010, A1. 37. Eric Schmitt, “Clinton’s ‘Sorry’ to Pakistan Ends Barrier to NATO,” New York Times, 4 July 2010, A1. 38. European Union, Delegation of the European Commission to the United States, “Declaration by the European Union,” 12 September 2001. 39. For example, the 1998 National Defense Authorization Act stated as a finding of Congress that “Cuba has maintained a hostile policy in its relations with the United States for over 35 years.” U.S. Congress, “Public Law 105–85, November 18, 1997, 105th Congress,” 1997, Sec 1228 A. Note that this is toned down from an earlier draft with stated that “The United States has been an avowed enemy of Cuba for over 35 years, and Fidel Castro has made hostility towards the United States a principal tenet of his domestic and foreign policy.” U.S. Congress, “H.R.1119 National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 1998 (Engrossed Amendment as Agreed to by Senate),” 1997. 40. Zebich-Knos 2005, 31–52; Brenner 2006, 280–304; LeoGrande 2005, 12–58. 41. Brenner 2006, 280–304. 42. Castro and Keeble 2002, 97. 43. The most famous case of this is that of Orlando Bosch, who was involved in the 1976 bombing of a Cuban passenger airliner. See Zebich-Knos 2005, 36–38. 44. For more detail, see Ziegler 2007. 45. “Cuban FM Extends Condolences to USA,” BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 September 2001; “Cuba: Highlights of Radio Rebelde News 1700 gmt 11 Sep 01,” BBC Monitoring Latin America—Political, 11 September 2001. 46. Orlando Oramas León, “La Lucha Contra el Terrorismo Precisa del Concierto International [The Fight against Terrorism Needs International Cooperation],” Granma, 13 September 2001, 5. 47. Ibid. 48. “Declaración del Gobierno de la República de Cuba [Declaration of the Government of the Republic of Cuba],” Granma, 12 September 2001, 1. 49. Castro 2001, 5. 50. Ibid., 7. 51. “Sentimos Dolor and Tristeza Junto al Pueblo Norteamericano [We Feel Pain and Sadness together with the American People],” Granma, 12 September 2001, 1. 52. “Cuba Rallies against Terrorism, Backs United States,” Associated Press, 15 September 2001; Castro Marino 2005, 195. 53. “Cuba Rallies against Terrorism, Backs United States”; “Cuba: Highlights of Cubavision TV News 0000 gmt 16 Sep 01.” BBC Monitoring Latin America—Political, 16 September 2001.

222

NOTES TO PAGES 171–176

54. Keith Richburg, “Worldwide Sympathy Mixed with Caution; Even Some Adversaries Offer Kind Words, but Deepening Violence Is Feared,” Washington Post, 16 September 2001, A18. 55. “Cuba Confirms Contacts with US Over Anti-Terrorist Campaign,” Agence France Presse—English, 19 September 2001; “US Reaches Out to Cuba, Sudan in Wake of Terrorist Attacks,” Agence France Presse—English, 18 September 2001. The Bush administration dismissed the value of this information, however: Fisk 2002, 34–35. 56. See, for example, “Discurso de Agresión Suena en EE.UU. [The Language of Aggression Sounds in the U.S.],” Granma, 17 September 2001, 4; “La Respuesta Bélica de Washington Solo Sembrará Más Odio y Temor [A Bellicose Response from Washington Will only Plant More Hate and Fear],” Granma, 17 September 2001, 5; “¿Vencerán la Paz y el Raciocinio o Se Impondrán la Guerra y la Violencia? [Will Peace and Reason Triumph or Will War and Violence Impose Themselves?],” Granma, 18 September 2001, 4. 57. “No Todo Esta Perdido [Not Everything Is Lost],” Granma, 19 September 2001, 1. 58. Office of the Press Secretary, the White House, “Press Release: Address to a Joint Session of Congress and the American People,” 20 September 2001. 59. Castro 2001, 29–31. 60. Ibid., 34. 61. See the headline “Cuba Contra el Terrorismo y Contra la Guerra” [Cuba against Terrorism and against War],” Granma, 23 September 2001, 1. 62. See, for example, the statements of Costa Rica, Russia, Mexico, Ecuador, Turkey, Chile, Nigeria, etc.: United Nations General Assembly, “A/56/PV.13: General Assembly, Fifty-Sixth Session, 13th Plenary Meeting, Monday, 1 October 2001, 3 P.M., New York,” 1 October 2001. 63. Ibid., 20. 64. “Carta de Fidel a Kofi Annan [Letter from Fidel to Kofi Annan],” Granma, 4 October 2001, 1. 65. Anita Snow, “Castro Expresses Sympathy for U.S. Victims of Terrorism, Demands Justice in 1976 Bombing,” Associated Press, 6 October 2001; “Cuba: Highlights of Cubavision TV News 0000 gmt 7 Oct 01,” BBC Monitoring Latin America—Political, 9 October 2001; “Suplemento Especial [Special Supplement],” Granma, 8 October 2001, 1–8. 66. Castro 2001, 50. 67. Ibid., 62. 68. Ibid. 69. Castro Marino 2005, 195. 70. Ziegler 2007, 109; Klepak 2005, 132–33. 71. “Cuba Promises to Return Any Escaping Guantanamo Prisoners,” Agence France Press—English, 20 January 2002; Vivian Sequera, “Raul Castro Makes Surprise Stop at Lookout over American Base,” Associated Press, 19 January 2002. 72. See Fisk 2002, 32–37. 73. “Nations Often at Odds with U.S. Express Sympathy at Attacks,” Associated Press Newswires, 12 September 2001; “Conferences, Concerts, Sports Matches Canceled as World Mourns U.S. Terror Attacks,” Associated Press Newswires, 12 September 2001; Jonathan Wright, “U.S. Calls Iran’s Response to Attacks ‘Positive,’ ” Reuters, 14 September 2001. 74. Gordon and Trainor 2002, 55. 75. “Assistance for Iranian Earthquake Victims,” USAID. Available at: http://www.usaid .gov/iran/, accessed December 2011. 76. “Powell Foresees Political Dialogue with Libya after Resolution of WMD—Interview with Abu Dhabi TV January 9,” Federal Information and News Dispatch, 9 January 2004. 77. Lind 2010; He 2009; Buruma 1994. 78. Buruma 1994, 8, 294.

NOTES TO PAGES 176–180

223

79. Dower 1999. 80. Wan 2006; Bush 2010. 81. Given the focus of this book on state-level interactions, I will only note Japanese government policies toward individuals when relevant to state-to-state relations. 82. Fukui 1977, 70–74. 83. Hayasaka 1987, 362–63. 84. Ogata 1988, 47–55. 85. Wan 2006, 86–88. 86. Ibid., 88. 87. Ishi et al. 2010, 52. 88. Zhu 1992, 37. 89. Ishi et al. 2010, 54. 90. Wan 2006, 89. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Joint Communiqué of the Government of Japan and the Government of the People’s Republic of China,” 29 September 1972. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/region/asia-paci/china/joint72.html, accessed April 2012. This statement, too, however, required some discussion of the wording given differences in nuance between the Japanese and Chinese languages. Ishi et al. 2010, 93. 91. Zhu 1992, 37. 92. Ishi et al. 2010, 223. 93. Ogata 1988, 78–97. 94. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Treaty of Peace and Friendship between Japan and the People’s Republic of China,” 12 August 1978. Available at: http://www.mofa .go.jp/region/asia-paci/china/treaty78.html, accessed April 2012. 95. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Overview of Official Development Assistance (ODA) to China,” June 2005. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/policy/oda/region/e_asia /china/index.html, accessed April 2012. 96. He 2009, 196; Wan 2006, 279; Whiting 1989, 123; East Asia Analytical Unit 1996, 68–69; LeoGrande 2005. 97. Whiting 1989, 123. 98. Wan 2006, 263–65; Taube 2002. 99. Rose 1998, 79–119. 100. Rose 2005, 57. 101. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Statement by Chief Cabinet Secretary Kiichi Miyazawa on History Textbooks,” 26 August 1982. Available at: http://www.mofa.go .jp/policy/postwar/state8208.html, accessed April 2012. 102. Rose 1998, 174. 103. Rose 2005, 57. 104. Tanaka 2008, 128. 105. Rose 2005, 57. 106. Tanaka 2008, 128. 107. Lind 2010, 49. 108. Söderberg 2002, 120. 109. Ijiri 1996, 77. 110. He 2009, 250. 111. Rose 2005, 101. 112. Ibid. 113. Yamazaki 2006, 76. 114. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Resolution to Renew the Determination for Peace on the Basis of Lessons Learned from History,” 9 June 1995. Available at: http://www .mofa.go.jp/announce/press/pm/murayama/address9506.html, accessed April 2012.

224

NOTES TO PAGES 180–183

115. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Statement by Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama ‘On the Occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the War’s End,’ ” 15 August 1995. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/announce/press/pm/murayama/state9508.html, accessed April 2012. 116. Yamazaki 2006, 109. 117. Ibid. 118. Yan 2010, 341. 119. Yamazaki 2006, 57–70. 120. Tanaka 2008, 133. 121. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Japan-Republic of Korea Joint Declaration: A New Japan-Republic of Korea Partnership towards the Twenty-first Century,” 8 October 1998. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/region/asia-paci/korea/joint9810.html, accessed April 2012. 122. He 2009, 264; Rose 2005, 105. 123. Rose 2005, 106. 124. Ibid. 125. Wan 2006, 130; Berger 2012. 126. Tanaka 2008, 134. 127. Wan 2006, 237–41. 128. This book, however, was later revised and would eventually be adopted by less than 0.5 percent of Japanese schools. Mitani 2008, 85. 129. Wan 2006, 245. 130. Yan 2010, 360–61. 131. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Statement by Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi,” 15 August 2005. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/announce/announce/2005/8 /0815.html, accessed April 2012. 132. Yan 2010, 386. 133. Mochizuki and Porter 2013, 35. 134. International Crisis Group 2014, 5. 135. Ankit Panda, “Park Geun-hye: Japan Summit ‘Pointless’ without Apology,” Diplomat, 5 November 2013. Available at: http://thediplomat.com/2013/11/park-geun-hye -japan-summit-pointless-without-apology/, accessed July 2014. 136. Sheila Smith, “Abe’s Yasukuni Visit: The Consequences?” Council on Foreign Relations: Asia Unbound, 30 December 2013. Available at: http://blogs.cfr.org/asia/2013/12 /30/abes-yasukuni-visit-the-consequences/, accessed July 2014. 137. U.S. Embassy, Japan, “Press Release: Statement on Prime Minister Abe’s December 26 Visit to Yasukuni Shrine.” Available at: http://japan.usembassy.gov/e/p/tp-20131226 -01.html, accessed July 2014. 138. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Press Conference by Minister for Foreign Affairs Fumio Kishida,” 14 January 2014. Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/press/kaiken /kaiken4e_000036.html, accessed July 2014. 139. “Abe shushō, Kōno danwa “minaosanai” Murayama danwa mo tōshū [Prime Minister Abe States He Will Not Revisit the Kōno Statement, Murayama Statement Likewise],” Asahi, 3 March 2014. Available at: http://www.asahi.com/articles/ASG3G3694G3GUTFK001 .html, accessed July 2014. 140. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “History Issues Q&A,” 1 January 2006 (last updated 8 April 2014). Available at: http://www.mofa.go.jp/policy/q_a/faq16.html, accessed July 2014. 141. Ijiri 1996, 63. 142. He 2009, 282–87; Wan 2006, 119. 143. Lind 2010, 160–67.

NOTES TO PAGES 183–192

225

144. Whiting 1989, 185. 145. Berger 2012, 228. 146. Shirk 2007, 140–80; Gries 2004, 94. 147. Campbell and Weitz 2006, 337. 148. “Barack Obama Apology to Afghanistan over Koran Burning,” BBC News Asia, 23 February 2012. 149. Sangar Rahimi and Alissa Rubin, “Koran Burning in NATO Error Incites Afghans,” New York Times, 22 February 2012, A1. CONCLUSION

1. Wendt 1999, 298–99. 2. O’Reilly 2007. 3. Adler and Pouliot 2011, 6. 4. One excellent exception is the ethnographic work of Iver B. Neumann in the Norwegian Foreign Ministry. See Neumann 2012. 5. This fits with Lind’s arguments about the dangers of backlash in derailing reconciliation efforts. See Lind 2008. 6. Fewsmith and Rosen 2001; Shirk 2007; Gries 2004; Downs and Sanders 1998; Reilly 2011. 7. This is a process akin to what Jack Snyder has referred to as “blowback.” Snyder 1991, 41. 8. Snyder 1991, 41–43; Crawford 2000, 155. 9. Ekman 2003. 10. Hopf 2010. 11. Ross 2006; Stein 2011; Ross 2013. 12. Ross 2006; Ross 2013.

References

ABBREVIATIONS

AAPD

JFJB RMRB ZMR

Aussenpolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland: Dokumente von 1949 bis 1994 [Foreign Policy of the Federal Republic of Germany: Documents from 1949 to 1994]. Cologne: Verlag Wissenschaft und Politik, 1995. Published document collection. Jiefangjun Bao [People’s Liberation Army Daily]. Newspaper, Beijing, China. Renmin Ribao [People’s Daily]. Newspaper, Beijing, China. Jelinek, Yeshayahu A. 1997. Zwischen Moral und Realpolitik: Deutsch-Israelische Beziehungen 1945–1965 [Between Morality and Realpolitik: German-Israeli Relations 1945–1965]. Gerlingen: Bleicher Verlag. Published document collection.

SOURCES CITED

Adenauer, Konrad. 1967. Erinnerungen 1953–1955 [Recollections 1953–1955]. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt. ——. 1975. Reden 1917–1967: Eine Auswahl [Speeches 1917–1967: A Selection]. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt. Adenauer, Konrad, Hanns Jürgen Küsters, and Hans Peter Mensing. 1984. Teegespräche, Adenauer Rhöndorfer Ausgabe [Tea Conversations, Adenauer Rhöndorfer Edition]. Berlin: Siedler. Adler, Emanuel. 2002. Constructivism in International Relations. In Handbook of International Relations, edited by Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse-Kappen, and Beth A. Simmons, 95–118. London: Sage. Adler, Emanuel, and Vincent Pouliot. 2011. International Practices: Introduction and Framework. In International Practices, edited by Emanuel Adler and Vincent Pouliot, 3–35. New York: Cambridge University Press. Andrews, Robert. 1993. The Columbia Dictionary of Quotations. New York: Columbia University Press. Aristotle. 2006. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by C.C.W. Taylor. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Art, Robert. 2003a. Coercive Diplomacy: What Do We Know? In The United States and Coercive Diplomacy, edited by Robert Art and Patrick Cronin, 359–420. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. ——. 2003b. Introduction. In The United States and Coercive Diplomacy, edited by Robert Art and Patrick Cronin, 3–20. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Ashforth, B.E., and R.H. Humphrey. 1993. Emotional Labor in Service Roles: The Influence of Identity. Academy of Management Review 18: 88–115. Averill, James R. 1982. Anger and Aggression: An Essay on Emotion. New York: Springer Verlag. Balabkins, Nicholas. 1971. West German Reparations to Israel. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. 227

228

REFERENCES

Balaj, Barbara. 1997. The Federal Republic of Germany and the Middle East. PhD. diss., George Washington University. Baldwin, David. 1993. Neoliberalism, Neorealism, and World Politics. In Neorealism and Neoliberalism, edited by David Baldwin, 3–25. New York: Columbia University Press. Barkan, Elazar. 2001. The Guilt of Nations: Restitution and Negotiating Historical Injustices. New York: Norton. Bartosch, Erwin. 1982. Das Narzißtische Negativ [The Narcissitic Negative]. Göttingen: Verlag für Medizinische Psychologie. Barzel, Rainer. 1979. Auf Dem Drahtseil [On the Tightrope]. Munich: Droemer-Knaur. Ben-Natan, Asher. 2005a. Brücken Bauen—Aber Nicht Vergessen: Als Erster Botschafter Israels in Der Bundesrepublik (1965–1969) [Build Bridges—but Do Not Forget: As the First Israeli Ambassador in the Federal Republic]. Düsseldorf: Droste Verlag. ——. 2005b. Herausforderungen Im Schatten Der Geschichte [Challenges in the Shadow of History]. In Israel Und Deutschland: Dorniger Weg Zur Partnerschaft [Israel and Germany: Thorny Path to Partnership], edited by Asher Ben-Natan, and Niels Hansen, 24–41. Cologne: Böhlau Verlag. Berger, Thomas. 2009. Sorry States in a Sorry World: Beyond German Exceptionalism. Journal of East Asian Studies 9: 343–49. ——. 2012. War, Guilt, and World Politics after World War II. New York: Cambridge University Press. Birrenbach, Kurt. 1984. Meine Sondermissionen [My Special Mission]. Düsseldorf: Econ Verlag. Black, J.L. 2004. Vladimir Putin and the New World Order: Looking East, Looking West? Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Blankenhorn, Herbert. 1980. Verständnis Und Verständigung: Blätter Eines Politischen Tagebuchs 1949 Bis 1979 [Understanding and Agreement: Pages from a Political Diary 1949–1979]. Berlin: Propyläen. Bleiker, Ronald, and Emma Hutchinson. 2008. Fear No More: Emotions and World Politics. Review of International Studies 34: 115–35. Boord, Ofer. 2001. Reparationszahlungen [Reparations Payments]. Psychosozial 24(83): 55–66. Brenner, Philip. 2006. Overcoming Asymmetry: Is a Normal U.S.-Cuban Relationship Possible? In Redefining Cuban Foreign Policy: The Impact of the “Special Period,” edited by H. Michael Erisman and John M. Kirk, 280–304. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Buckley, Mary. 2003. Former Superpower: The Russian Federation. In Global Responses to Terrorism: 9/11, Afghanistan and Beyond, edited by Mary Buckley and Rick Fawn, 221–38. London: Routledge. Buettner, Friedemann. 2003. The Dilemmas of a “Policy of Even-Handedness.” In Germany and the Middle East: Past, Present, and Future, edited by Haim Goren, 115– 59. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press. Bull, Hedley. 1977. The Anarchical Society. New York: Columbia University Press. Buruma, Ian. 1994. The Wages of Guilt: Memories of War in Germany and Japan. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Bush, George W. 2010. Decision Points. London: Virgin Books. Bush, Richard. 2003. United States Policy towards Taiwan. In Breaking the China-Taiwan Impasse, edited by Donald Zagoria, 11–22. Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers. ——. 2005a. Policy towards Taiwan. Paper presented at Behind the Bamboo Curtain: Chinese Leadership, Politics, and Policy. Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for Peace.

REFERENCES

229

——. 2005b. Untying the Knot. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. ——. 2010. The Perils of Proximity: China-Japan Security Relations. Washington, DC: Brookings Institute Press. Bush, Richard, and Michael E. O’Hanlon. 2007. A War Like No Other: The Truth about China’s Challenge to America. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Byman, Daniel, and Matthew Waxman. 2002. The Dynamics of Coercion: American Foreign Policy and the Limits of Military Might. New York: Cambridge University Press. Byman, Daniel, and Kenneth M. Pollack. 2001. Let Us Now Praise Great Men. International Security 25(4): 107–46. Campbell, Kurt M., and Richard Weitz. 2006. The Chinese Embassy Bombing: Evidence of Crisis Management? In Managing Sino-American Crises: Studies and Analysis, edited by Danielle F.S. Cohen, Michael D. Swaine, and Tousheng Zhang, 327–49. Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Carpenter, Ted Galen. 2004. Foreign Policy Briefing: President Bush’s Muddled Policy on Taiwan. Washington, DC: Cato Institute. Carter, Ashton, and William Perry. 1999. Preventive Defense. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Castro, Fidel. 2001. Cuba: Contra El Terrorismo Y Contra La Guerra [Cuba: Against Terrorism and against War]. Havana: Editora Política. Castro, Fidel, and Alexandra Keeble. 2002. War, Racism and Economic Injustice: The Global Ravages of Capitalism. Melbourne: Ocean Press. Published in association with Editora Politica. Castro Marino, Soraya. 2005. The Cuba-United States Conflict. In Foreign Policy toward Cuba: Isolation or Engagement?, edited by Michele Zebich-Knos and Heather N. Nicol, 191–223. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Checkel, Jeffrey T. 1999. Norms, Institutions, and National Identity in Contemporary Europe. International Studies Quarterly 43(1): 83–114. Chen Chao. 2003. Lengzhan Hou Mei-Tai Junshi Guanxi De Fazhan Jiqi Yingxiang [Post-Cold War Development of U.S.-Taiwan Military Relations and Their Influence]. Shijie jingji yu zhengzhi luntan 2(1): 82–86. Chen Qimao. 1999. The Taiwan Strait Crisis. In Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 1995–1996 Crisis, edited by Suisheng Zhao, 127–59. London: Routledge. Cheung, Tai Ming. 2001. The Influence of the Gun: China’s Central Military Commission and Its Relationship with the Military, Party, and State Decision-Making Systems. In The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, 1978–2000, edited by David M. Lampton, 67–90. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Christopher, Warren. 1998. In the Stream of History: Shaping Foreign Policy for a New Era. Stanford: Stanford University Press. ——. 2001. Chances of a Lifetime. New York: Scribner. Clark, Cadence, and Christopher Schmitt. 2007. Sympathy. In Handbook of the Sociology of Emotions, edited by J.E. Stets and J.H. Turner, 467–92. New York: Springer Verlag. Clark, Candace. 1987. Sympathy Biography and Sympathy Margin. American Journal of Sociology 93(2): 290–321. ——. 1997. Misery and Company. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Clinton, Bill. 2005. My Life. New York: Vintage. Cohen, Raymond. 2004. Apology and Reconciliation in International Relations. In From Conflict Resolution to Reconciliation, edited by Yaacov Bar-Siman-Tov, 177–96. New York: Oxford University Press.

230

REFERENCES

Copper, John F. 2006. Playing with Fire: The Looming War with China over Taiwan. Westport, CT: Praeger Security International. Cornelius, Randolph R. 1996. The Science of Emotion. Upper Saddle River, NJ: PrenticeHall. Crawford, Neta. 2000. The Passion of World Politics. International Security 24(4): 116–56. Cummings, Sally N. 2003. Negotiating the U.S. Presence. In Global Responses to Terrorism: 9/11, Afghanistan and Beyond, edited by Mary Buckley and Rick Fawn, 239– 51. London: Routledge. De Waal, Frans. 2006. Primates and Philosophers: How Morality Evolved. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Deligdisch, Jekutiel. 1974. Die Einstellung Der Bundesrepublik Deutschland Zum Staate Israel [The Position of Federal Republic Germany to the State of Israel]. Bonn-Bad Godesberg: Neue Gesellschaft. Deutschkron, Inge. 1970. Bonn and Jerusalem. Philadelphia: Chilton Book Company. ——. 1991. Israel Und Die Deutschen [Israel and the Germans]. Cologne, Germany: Verlag Wissenschaft und Politik. Ding, Arthur S. 2003. The Lessons of the 1995–1996 Military Taiwan Straight Crisis. In The Lessons of History: The Chinese People’s Liberation Army at 75, edited by Laurie Burkitt, Andrew Scobell, and Larry M. Wortzel, 379–402. Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute. Donaldson, R.H., and J.L. Nogee. 2009. The Foreign Policy of Russia: Changing Systems, Enduring Interests. Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Dower, John W. 1999. Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II. New York: W.W Norton. Downs, Erica Strecker, and Phillip Sanders. 1998. Legitimacy and the Limits of Nationalism: China and the Diaoyutai Islands. International Security 23(3): 114–46. Dryer, June Teufel. 1997. A History of Cross-Strait Interchange. In Crisis in the Taiwan Strait, edited by Chuck R. Downs and James Lilley, 13–44. Washington, DC: National Defense University Press. East Asia Analytical Unit. 1996. Asia’s Global Powers: China-Japan Relations in the 21st Century. Canberra: EAAU, Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Eisenberg, Nancy. 1986. Altruistic Emotion, Cognition, and Behavior. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. ——. 2000. Empathy and Sympathy. In Handbook of Emotions, edited by Michael Lewis and Jeannette M. Haviland-Jones, 671–91. New York: Guilford Press. Ekman, Paul. 1994. All Emotions Are Basic. In The Nature of Emotion: Fundamental Questions, edited by Paul Ekman and Richard J. Davidson, 15–19. New York: Oxford Univeristy Press. ——. 2003. Emotions Revealed. New York: Times Books. Elon, Amos. 1998. A Blood-Dimmed Tide: Dispatches from the Middle East. New York: Columbia University Press. Elster, Jon. 1999. Alchemies of the Mind: Rationality and the Emotions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fearon, James D. 1994. Domestic Political Audiences and the Escalation of International Disputes. American Political Science Review 88(3): 577–92. ——. 1995. Rationalist Explanations for War. International Organization 49(3): 379–414. ——. 1997. Signaling Foreign Policy Interests: Tying Hands versus Sinking Costs. Journal of Conflict Resolution 41(1): 68–90. Fearon, James D., and Alexander Wendt. 2002. Rationalism v. Constructivism: A Skeptical View. In Handbook of International Relations, edited by Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse-Kappen, and Beth A. Simmons, 52–72. London: Sage.

REFERENCES

231

Feldman, Lily Gardner. 1984. The Special Relationship between West Germany and Israel. Winchester, MA: Allen and Unwin. Feng Jiangping 1991. Cuozhe Xinlixue [Psychology of Frustration]. Shanxi: Shanxi Jiaoyu Chubanshe. Feng Sihai, and Huang Xiting. 2004. Qingxu Xingrongci Ciyi De Mohu Fuzhi [Fuzzy Evaluation Statistics for Emotional Adjective Semantics]. Xinli Xuebao 36(6): 704–11. Fewsmith, Joseph, and Stanley Rosen. 2001. The Domestic Context of Chinese Foreign Policy: Does Public Opinion Matter? In The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, 1978–2000, edited by David M. Lampton, 151–89. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Fierke, Karin. 2004. Whereof We Can Speak, Thereof We Must Not Be Silent: Trauma, Political Solipsism and War. Review of International Studies 30(4): 471–91. Finnemore, Martha, and Kathryn Sikkink. 1998. International Norm Dynamics and Political Change. International Organization 52(4): 887–917. Fischer, Ricard. D. 1997. China’s Missiles over the Taiwan Strait: A Political and Military Assessment. In Crisis in the Taiwan Strait, edited by Chuck R. Downs and James Lilley, 167–216. Washington, DC: National Defense University Press. Fisk, Dan. 2002. Bush Administration Point of View. In National Summit on Cuba. Washington, DC: World Policy Institute, 32–37. Frank, Robert H. 1988. Passions within Reason: The Strategic Role of the Emotions. New York: Norton. Fukui, Haruhiro. 1977. Tanaka Goes to Beijing. In Policymaking in Contemporary Japan, edited by T.J. Pempel, 60–102. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Garver, John W. 1997. Face Off: China, the United States, and Taiwan’s Democratization. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Genscher, Hans-Dietrich. 1995. Erinnerungen [Memories]. Berlin: Siedler Verlag. George, Alexander L. 1994a. Introduction. In The Limits of Coercive Diplomacy, edited by Alexander L. George and William E. Simons, 1–4. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. ——. 1994b. Coercive Diplomacy: Definition and Characteristics. In The Limits of Coercive Diplomacy, edited by Alexander L. George and William E. Simons, 7–11. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. ——. 1994c. Theory and Practice. In The Limits of Coercive Diplomacy, edited by Alexander L. George and William E. Simons, 13–21. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. George, Alexander L., and Andrew Bennett. 2005. Case Studies and Theory Development in the Social Sciences. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Geppert, Ulrich, and Heinz Heckhausen. 1990. Ontogenese Der Emotionen [Ontogeny of the Emotions]. In Psychologie Der Emotionen [Psychology of the Emotions], edited by Klaus R. Scherer, 115–214. Göttingen: Verlag für Psychologie. Germany, Bundesregierung. 1982. Die Kabinettsprotokolle Der Bundesregierung: 1952 [Cabinet Protocols of the Federal Government: 1952]. Boppard am Rhein: Harald Boldt Verlag. Gill, Bates, and Martin Kleiber. 2007. China’s Space Odyssey: What the Antisatellite Test Reveals About Decision-Making in Beijing. Foreign Affairs 86: 2–3. Goffman, Erving. 1959. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Goldmann, Nahum. 1980. Mein Leben Als Deutscher Jude [My Life as a German Jew]. Munich: Albert Langen Verlag. Gordon, Michael, and Bernard Trainor. 2002. Cobra II. New York: Pantheon Books. Government Information Office. 1997. Lee Teng-Hui’s Selected Addresses and Messages 1996. Taipei: Government Information Office.

232

REFERENCES

Greenwood, Christopher. 2002. International Law and the “War against Terrorism.” International Affairs 78(2): 301–17. Gries, Peter Hays. 2004. China’s New Nationalism: Pride, Politics, and Diplomacy. Berkeley: University of California Press. Guo Xiaobing. 2005. Zhong-Mei Zai Fang Kuosan Lingyu Hezuo Yu Fenxi [Sino-U.S. Cooperation in the Area of Anti-Proliferation and Analysis]. In Zhong-Mei Guanxi Zhanlue Guanxi Xinlun, edited by Mengzi Fu, 205–214. Beijing: Shishi Chubanshe. Guowuyuan Taiwan Shiwu Bangongshi. 2006. Zhongguo Taiwan Wenti Waishi Renyuan Duben [China’s Taiwan Issue Reader for Foreign Affairs Personnel]. Beijing: Jiuzhou Chubanshe. Hagan, J.D. 2001. Does Decision Making Matter? International Studies Review 3(2): 5–46. Hall, Todd H. 2008. Emotional States: Theorizing Emotional Idioms for International Relations. PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2008. Hall, Todd H., and Keren Yarhi-Milo. 2012. The Personal Touch: Leaders’ Impressions, Costly Signaling, and Assessments of Sincerity in International Affairs. International Studies Quarterly 56(3): 560–73. Halpern, Ben, and Shalom Wurm. 1966. The Responsible Attitude: The Life and Opinions of Giora Josehpthal. New York: Schoken Books. Hansen, Niels. 2002. Aus Dem Schatten Der Katastrophe. Die Deutsch-Israelischen Beziehungen in Der Ära Konrad Adenauer Und David Ben Gurion. [Out of the Shadows of the Catastrophe: German-Israeli Relations in the Era of Konrad Adenauer and David Ben-Gurion]. Düsseldorf: Droste Verlag. Hayasaka, Shigezou. 1987. Seijika Tanaka Kakuei [Kakuei Tanaka: Politician]. Tokyo: Shueisha. He, Yinan. 2009. The Search for Reconciliation: Sino-Japanese and German-Polish Relations since World War II. New York: Cambridge University Press. Herspring, Dale R., and Peter Rutland. 2005. Putin and Russian Foreign Policy. In Putin’s Russia: Past Imperfect, Future Uncertain, edited by Dale R. Herspring, 259–92. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Heuss, Theodor. 1964. An Und Über Juden [On and About the Jews]. Düsseldorf: Econ Verlag. Hickey, Dennis. 1997. U.S. Policy and Taiwan’s Bid to Rejoin the United Nations. Asian Survey 37(11): 1031–43. Hilgers, Micha. 1996. Scham: Gesichter Eines Affekts [Shame: Faces of an Affect]. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Hochschild, Arlie R. 1983. The Managed Heart. Berkeley: University of California Press. Hopf, Ted. 1998. The Promise of Constructivism in International Relations Theory. International Security 23(1): 171–200. ——. 2010. The Logic of Habit in International Relations. European Journal of International Relations 16(4): 539–61. Huang, Jiashu, and Lin Hong. 2006. Liang an “Waijiao Zhan” [The “Diplomatic War” between the Sides of Straits]. Beijing: Zhonggou Renmin Daxue Chubanshe. Hymans, J.E.C. 2010. The Arrival of Psychological Constructivism. International Theory 2(3): 461–67. Ijiri, Hidenori. 1996. Sino-Japanese Controversy since the 1972 Diplomatic Normalization. In China and Japan: History, Trends, and Prospects, edited by Christopher Howe, 60–82. New York: Oxford University Press. International Crisis Group. 2014. Old Scores and New Grudges: Evolving Sino-Japanese Tensions, Asia Report No. 258. Brussels: International Crisis Group.

REFERENCES

233

Irving, David. 1978. The War Path: Hitler’s Germany 1933–1939. London: Michael Joseph Limited. Ishi, Akira, Jianrong Zhu, Yoshihide Soeya, and Xiao Guang Lin. 2010. Nitchu Kokkou Seijouka, Nitchu Heiwa Yuukou Jouyaku Teiketsu Koushou [Concluding Negotiations for Sino-Japanese Normalization, the Sino-Japanese Treaty of Peace and Friendship]. Tokyo: Iwanami. Israel, Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 1953a. Agreement between the State of Israel and the Federal Republic of Germany. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 125. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1953b. Document 29: German Delegation’s Statement of 21 March 1952 at the Opening of the Negotiations on Reparations. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 79–81. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1953c. Document 31: Israel Delegation’s Statement of 8 April 1952, in Reaction to the Statement of the German Delegation of 5 April 1952 concerning the Amount of the Reparations. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 82–84. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1953d. Documents 7–12. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1953e. Israel Note of 12 March 1951 to the Four Occupying Powers concerning Reparations. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1953f. Israel Note of 16 January 1951 to the United States, United Kingdom, and France concerning Restitution and Indemnification. In Documents relating to the Agreement between the Government of Israel and the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany, edited by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hakirya: Government Printing Press. ——. 1991. Documents 90, 112. In Documents on the Foreign Policy of Israel, edited by Yemima Rosenthal. Jerusalem: Government Printing Press. Izard, Carroll E. 1991. The Psychology of Emotions. New York: Plenum Press. Jackson, William D. 2002. Encircled Again: Russia’s Military Assesses Threats in a PostSoviet World. Political Science Quarterly 117(3): 373–400. Jelinek, Yeshayahu A. 1991. John J. Mccloy, Jacob Blaustein, and the Shilumim: A Chapter in American Foreign Affairs. In Holocaust and Shilumim: The Policy of Wiedergutmachund in the Early 1950s, edited by Harmut Lehman, 29–48. Washington, DC: German Historical Institute. ——. 2004. Deutschland Und Israel 1945–1965: Ein Neurotisches Verhältnis [Germany and Israel 1945–1965: A Neurotic Relationship]. Munich: Oldenberg Verlag. Jervis, Robert. 1976. Perception and Misperception in International Politics. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ——. 1989 [1970]. The Logic of Images in International Relations. New York: Columbia University Press. Jia, Qingguo. 1992. Changing Relations across the Taiwan Strait: Beijing’s Perceptions. Asian Survey 32(3): 277–89. Jiang Dianming. 1996. Taiwan Yi Jiu Jiu Wu [Taiwan 1995]. Beijing: Jiu Zhou Tushu Chubanshe.

234

REFERENCES

Joffe, Josef. 1992. Reflections on German Policy in the Middle East. In Germany and the Middle East, edited by Shahram Chubin, 195–209. London: Pinter Publishers. Junshi Kexue Yuan Junshi Lishi Yanjiusuo. 2007. Zhongguo Renmin Jiefang Jun Bashi Nian Dashiji [People’s Liberation Army Eighty-Year Chronicle]. Beijing: Junshi Kexue Chubanshe. Kaiser, Karl, and Klaus Becher. 1992. Deutschland Und Der Irak-Konflikt [Germany and the Iraq Conflict]. Bonn: Europa Union Verl. Kampf, Zohar, and Nava Löwenheim. 2012. Rituals of Apology in the Global Arena. Security Dialogue 43(1): 43–60. Kan, Shirley A. 2003. Taiwan: Major U.S. Arms Sales since 1990. Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service. ——. 2005. U.S.-Counter-Terrorism Cooperation: Issues for U.S. Policy. Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service. Katchadourian, Herant. 2009. Guilt: The Bite of Conscience. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Katzenstein, Peter J. 1996. The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics. New York: Columbia University Press. Keohane, Robert, and Lisa Martin. 1995. The Promise of Institutionalist Theory. International Security 20(1): 39–51. Klepak, H.P. 2005. Cuba’s Military 1990–2005: Revolutionary Soldiers during CounterRevolutionary Times: Studies of the Americas. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Klotz, Audie. 1995. Norms in International Relations: The Struggle against Apartheid. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Kratochwil, Friedrich. 1989. Rules, Norms, and Decisions. New York: Cambridge University Press. Krekel, Michael W. 1996. Wiedergutmachung: Das Luxemburger Abkommen Von 10. September 1952 [Reparations: The Luxembourg Agreement of 10 September 1952]. Bad Honnef-Rhöndorf: Stiftung Bundeskanzler-Adenauer-Haus. Kuhn, Robert. 2004. The Man Who Changed China. New York: Crown. Kurzman, Dan. 1983. Ben-Gurion: Prophet of Fire. New York: Simon and Schuster. Kydd, Andrew H. 2005. Trust and Mistrust in International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Lake, David A., and Robert July Powell. 1999. Strategic Choice and International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Lam, Willy Wo-Lap. 2006. Chinese Politics in the Hu Jintao Era. Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Lampton, David M. 2001. Same Bed, Different Dreams. Los Angeles: University of California Press. Lampton, David M., and Richard D. Ewing. 2002. U.S.-China Relations in a Post-September 11th World. Washington, DC: Nixon Center. Landweer, Hilge. 1999. Scham Und Macht [Shame and Power]. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Lauren, P.G. 1972. Ultimata and Coercive Diplomacy. International Studies Quarterly 16(2): 131–65. Lavy, George. 1996. Germany and Israel: Moral Debt and National Interest. London: Frank Cass. Lazarus, Richard S. 1991. Emotion and Adaptation. New York: Oxford University Press. ——. 1994. Universal Antecedents of the Emotions. In The Nature of Emotion: Fundamental Questions, edited by Paul Ekman and Richard J. Davidson, 163–71. New York: Oxford Univeristy Press. LeoGrande, William. 2005. The United States and Cuba. In Cuba, the United States, and the Post-Cold War World: The International Dimensions of the Washington-Havana

REFERENCES

235

Relationship, edited by Morris H. Morley and Chris McGillion, 12–58. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Levy, Jack S. 1992. Prospect Theory and International Relations: Theoretical Applications and Analytical Problems. Political Psychology 13(2): 283–310. Lewan, Kenneth M. 1975. How West Germany Helped to Build Israel. Journal of Palestine Studies 4(4): 41–64. Li Chengwu, and Qi Jialin. 2009. Dalu Taiwan Liushinian [The Mainland and Taiwan: Sixty Years]. Haikou: Hainan Chubanshe. Li Gong and Xie Lijiao. 2010. Ru He Gen Meiguo Gongchu: Lengzhan Hou Zhongguo Dui Meiguo Fangzhen Yu Zhongmei Guanxi [How to Coexist with America: China’s Diplomatic Guidelines for the United States and the Sino-U.S. Relations after the Cold War]. Beijing: Jiuzhou Chubanshe. Li Peng. 2008. Heping Fazhan Hezuo: Li Peng Waishi Riji [Peace, Development, Cooperation: Li Peng’s Foreign Affairs Diary]. Beijing: Xinhua Chubanshe. Li Qingchun. 2005. Bushi Zhengfu De Mei-Tai Junshi Hezou Yu Dui Tai Junshou Wenti [The Bush Government’s U.S.-Taiwanese Military Cooperation and the Issue of Armsales to Taiwan]. In Zhongmei Zhanlue Guanxi Xinlun [New Theories of Sino-American Strategic Relations], edited by Mengzi Fu, 264–78. Beijing Shishi Chubanshe. Lieber, Keir, and Daryl Press. 2006a. The End of Mad? The Nuclear Dimenson of U.S. Primacy. International Security 30(4): 7–44. ——. 2006b. The Rise of U.S. Nuclear Primacy. Foreign Affairs 85(2): 42–54. Lin Jiangong, Cheng Youlong, Cao Hong, Cui Shuxia, and Qu Jingtao. 2006. Da Yuebing, Da Lianbing, Da Yanxi, Da Caijun [Large-Scale Troop Reviews, Large-Scale Troop Training, Large-Scale Exercises, and Large-Scale Disarmament]. Hunan: Renmin Chubanshe. Lind, Jennifer. 2010. Sorry States: Apologies in International Politics. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Lindsay-Hartz, Janice De Rivera, and Michael Mascolo. 1995. Differentiating Shame and Guilt. In The Self-Conscious Emotions: The Psychology of Shame, Guilt, Embarrassment, and Pride, edited by Kurt Fischer and June Price Tangney, 274–300. New York: Guilford Press. Liu Fang 1999. Qingxu Guanlixue [Emotional Management Studies]. Beijing: Zhongguo Wuzi Chubanshe. Liu Liandi. 2001. Zhong-Mei Guanxi De Guiji [The Trajectory of Sino-U.S. Relations]. Beijing: Shishi Chubanshe. Lo, Bobo. 2003. Vladimir Putin and the Evolution of Russian Foreign Policy. Oxford: Blackwell. Löwenheim, Oded, and Gadi Heimann. 2008. Revenge in International Politics. Security Studies 17: 685–724. Lugar, Richard. 2008. Playing with Fire: Colombia, Ecuador, and Venezuela: Report to the Members of the Committee on Foreign Relations. Washington, DC: United States Senate. Luo Zheng. 1989. Qingxu Kongzhi De Lilun Yu Fangfa [Emotion Control: Theory and Methods]. Beijing: Guangming Ribao Chubanshe. Ma Wanyi. 1999. Lengzhan Hou Mei-Tai Guanxi De Yanbian [Evolution of Post-Cold War U.S.-Taiwan Relations]. Dangdai yatai: taihai guancha, 10: 58–64. Mankoff, Jeffrey. 2009. Russian Foreign Policy: The Return of Great Power Politics. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Mann, James. 1998. About Face: A History of America’s Curious Relationship with China, from Nixon to Clinton. New York: Knopf. ——. 2004. Rise of the Vulcans: The History of Bush’s War Cabinet. New York: Penguin. Marcella, Gabriel. 2008. War without Borders: The Colombia-Ecuador Crisis of 2008. Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College.

236

REFERENCES

March, James G., and Johan P. Olsen. 1998. The Institutional Dynamics of International Political Orders. International Organization 52(4): 943–69. Mascolo, Michael, and Kurt Fischer. 1995. Developmental Transformations in Appraisals for Pride, Shame, and Guilt. In The Self-Conscious Emotions: The Psychology of Shame, Guilt, Embarrassment, and Pride, edited by Kurt Fischer and June Price Tangney, 64–113. New York: Guilford Press. Maull, Hanns. 1992. Economic Relations with the Middle East: Weight and Dimensions. In Germany and the Middle East, edited by Shahram Chubin, 113–35. London: Pinter Publishers. McDermott, Rose. 1998. Risk-Taking in International Politics: Prospect Theory in American Foreign Policy. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. ——. 2004a. The Feeling of Rationality: The Meaning of Neuroscientific Advances for Political Science. Perspectives on Politics 2(4): 691–706. ——. 2004b. Political Psychology in International Relations. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Mearsheimer, John J. 2001. The Tragedy of Great Power Politics. New York: Norton. Meining, Stefan. 2005. Beziehung Zwischen Israel Und Der DDR [Relations Between Israel and the GDR]. Paper presented at the conference, “40 Jahre deutsch-israelische Beziehungen,” May 12, Wendgräben. Meng Zhaolan. 1989. Renlei Qingxu [Human Emotions]. Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe. ——. 2005. Qingxu Xinlixue [Emotional Psychology]. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Mercer, Jonathan. 2005. Rationality and Psychology in International Politics. International Organization 59: 77–106. ——. 2006. Human Nature and the First Image: Emotion in International Politics. Journal of International Relations and Development 9: 288–303. ——. 2010. Emotional Beliefs. International Organization 64: 1–31. Mercer, Philip. 1972. Sympathy and Ethics. London: Oxford University Press. Mitani, Hiroshi. 2008. The History Textbook Issue in Japan and East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories and the Resurgence of Nationalism. In East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories, edited by Tsuyoshi Hasegawa and Kazuhiko Togo, 83–93. Westport, CT: Praeger Security International. Mochizuki, Mike, and Samuel Porter. 2013. Japan under Abe: Toward Moderation or Nationalism? Washington Quarterly 36(4): 25–41. Morgenthau, Hans. 1973. Politics among Nations. New York: Knopf. Morrow, J.D. 1994. Game Theory for Political Scientists. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Nassauer, Otfried, and Christopher Steinmetz. 2003. Rüstungskooperation Zwischen Deutschland Und Israel [Defense Cooperation between Germany and Israel]. Berlin: Berliner Informationszentrum für Transatlantische Sicherheit. Nathan, Andrew J. 1996. China’s Goals in the Taiwan Strait. China Journal 36: 87–93. ——. 1999. Forward. In Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 1995– 1996 Crisis, edited by Suisheng Zhao, vii–x. London: Routledge. Nathan, Andrew J., and Robert S. Ross. 1997. The Great Wall and the Empty Fortress. New York: W.W. Norton. Navon, Benjamin. 2005. Im Vereinten Deutschland [In Unified Germany]. In Israel Und Deutschland: Dorniger Weg Zur Partnerschaft [Israel and Germany: The Thorny Path to Partnership], edited by Asher Ben-Natan and Niels Hansen, 187–94. Cologne: Böhlau Verlag. Negash, Girma. 2006. Apologia Politica: States and Their Apologies by Proxy. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.

REFERENCES

237

Neumann, Iver B. 2012. At Home with the Diplomats: Inside a European Foreign Ministry. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Nussbaum, Martha. 2001. Upheavals of Thought. New York: Cambridge University Press. O’Reilly, Kelly P. 2007. Perceiving Rogue States: The Use of the “Rogue State” Concept by US Foreign Policy Elites. Foreign Policy Analysis 3(4): 295–315. Ogata, Sadako. 1988. Normalization with China: A Comparative Study of US and Japanese Processes. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley. Osterheld, Horst. 1992. Aussenpolitik Unter Bundeskanzler Ludwig Erhard: 1963–1966. [Foreign Policy under Federal Chancellor Ludwig Erhard: 1963–1966] Düsseldorf: Droste Verlag. Panksepp, Jaak. 1994. The Basics of Basic Emotion. In The Nature of Emotion: Fundamental Questions, edited by Paul Ekman and Richard J. Davidson, 20–24. New York: Oxford Univeristy Press. Peres, Shimon. 1970. David’s Sling: The Arming of Israel. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Petersen, Roger D. 2011. Western Intervention in the Balkans: The Strategic Use of Emotion in Conflict. New York: Cambridge University Press. Price, Richard. 1998. Reversing the Gun Sights: Transnational Civil Society Targets Land Mines. International Organization 52(3): 613–44. Primakov, E.M. 2004. A World Challenged: Fighting Terrorism in the Twenty-First Century. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Primor, Avi. 1997. “. . . Mit Ausnahme Deutschlands”: Als Botschafter Israels in Bonn [“. . . With the Exception of Germany”: As Ambassador of Israel in Bonn]. Berlin: Ullstein. Qian Qichen. 2003. Waijiao Shiji [Ten Diplomatic Episodes]. Beijing: Shijie Zhishi Chubanshe. Reilly, James. 2011. Strong Society, Smart State: The Rise of Public Opinion in China’s Japan Policy. New York: Columbia University Press. Rice, Condoleezza. 2011. No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington. New York: Crown. Rigger, Shelley. 1999. Politics in Taiwan. New York: Routedge. Roccas, Sonia, Yechiel Klar, and Ido Liviatan. 2006. The Paradox of Group-Based Guilt: Modes of National Identification, Conflict Vehemence, and Reactions to the InGroup’s Moral Violations. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 91(4): 698–711. Romberg, Alan. 2004. Rein in at the Brink of the Precipice: American Policy toward Taiwan and US-PRC Relations. Washington, DC: Stimson Center. Rose, Caroline. 1998. Interpreting History in Sino-Japanese Relations: A Case Study in Political Decision-Making. New York: Routledge. ——. 2005. Sino-Japanese Relations: Facing the Past, Looking to the Future? New York: Routledge. Ross, Andrew A. G. 2006. Coming in from the Cold: Constructivism and Emotions. European Journal of International Relations 12(2): 197–222. ——. 2013. Mixed Emotions: Beyond Fear and Hatred in International Conflict. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ross, Robert. 2000. The 1995–1996 Taiwan Strait Confrontation: Coercion, Credibility, and the Use of Force. International Security 25(2): 87–123. Rowe, Nicholas. 1756. The Works of Nicholas Rowe. London: Tonson, Draper, and Lintot. Ruggie, John. 1998. What Makes the World Hang Together? Neo-Utilitarianism and the Social Constructivist Challenge. International Organization 52(4): 855–85.

238

REFERENCES

Rumsfeld, Donald. 2011. Known and Unknown: A Memoir. New York: Penguin. Russell, Wynne. 2004. “Control Yourself, Sir!”: A Call for Research into Emotion Cultures in Diplomacy. In Intercultural Communication and Diplomacy, edited by H. Slavik, 391–402. Geneva: Diplo Foundation. Sander, David, and Klaus R. Scherer. 2009. The Oxford Companion to Emotion and the Affective Sciences. New York: Oxford University Press. Sartori, Anne E. 2002. The Might of the Pen: A Reputational Theory of Communication in International Disputes. International Organization 56(1): 121–49. Sasley, Brent E. 2011. Theorizing States’ Emotions. International Studies Review 13(3): 452– 76. Saurette, Paul. 2006. You Dissin’ Me? Humiliation and Post 9/11 Global Politics. Review of International Studies 32(3): 495–522. Schelling, Thomas. 1966. Arms and Influence. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. ——. 1980. The Strategy of Conflict. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Schieman, Scott. 2007. Anger. In Handbook of the Sociology of Emotions, edited by Jon Stets and Jonathan Turner, 493–515. New York: Springer. Schimmelfennig, Frank. 2003. The EU, NATO and the Integration of Europe: Rules and Rhetoric. New York: Cambridge University Press. Schultheiss, Carlo. 1997. Scham Und Normen: Überlegungen Aus Sozialwissenschaftlicher Und Analytisch-Philosophischer Sicht [Shame and Norms: Contemplations from a Social Scientific and Analytic Philisophical Perspective]. In Scham: Ein Menschliches Gefühl, edited by Rolf Kühn, Michael Raub and Michael Titze, 97–110. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag. Schwan, Gesine. 1997. Politik Und Schuld [Politics and Guilt]. Frankfurt: Fischer. Schwartz, Thomas 1991. America’s Germany: John J. McCloy and the Federal Republic of Germany. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Scobell, Andrew. 2000. Show of Force: Chinese Soldiers, Statesmen, and the 1995–1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis. Political Science Quarterly 115(2): 227–46. ——. 2003. China’s Use of Military Force. New York: Cambridge University Press. Shambaugh, David. 1995. The United States and China: A New Cold War? Current History 94(593): 241–46. Sheng, Lijun. 2002. The Taiwan Issue: Does China Have a Strategy? Cambridge Review of International Affairs 15(1): 123–29. Shevtsova, Lilia. 2005. Putin’s Russia. Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Shinnar, Felix. 1967. Bericht Eines Beauftragten. Die Deutsch-Israelischen Beziehungen 1951– 1966 [Report from an Envoy: German-Israeli Relations 1951–1966]. Tübingen: Rainer Wunderlich. Shirk, Susan. 2007. China: Fragile Superpower. New York: Oxford University Press. Snidal, Duncan. 2013. Rational Choice in International Relations. In Handbook of International Relations, edited by Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse, and Beth Simmons, 73–94. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Snyder, Jack. 1991. Myths of Empire: Domestic Politics and International Ambition. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Söderberg, Marie. 2002. The Role of ODA in the Relationship. In Chinese-Japanese Relations in the Twenty-First Century: Complementarity and Conflict, edited by Marie Söderberg, 114–29. New York: Routledge. Stein, Janice. 2011. Psychological Dimensions of International Decision Making and Collective Behav ior. (Unpublished manuscript.) Stets, Jan, and Jonathan Turner. 2007. Moral Emotions. In Handbook of the Sociology of Emotions, edited by Jan Stets and Jonathan Turner, 544–66. New York: Springer Verlag.

REFERENCES

239

Strauss, Franz Josef. 1989. Die Erinnerungen [Memories]. Berlin: Siedler Verlag. Su Ge. 1998. Meiguo Dui Hua Zhengce Yu Taiwan Wenti [U.S. Policy towards China and the Taiwan Issue]. Beijing: Shijie Zhishi Chubanshe. Su Yan. 2009. Taiwan Wenti Yu Zhongmei Guanxi [The Taiwan Issue and U.S.-China Relations]. Beijing: Beijing University Press. Suettinger, Robert. 2003. Beyond Tiananmen: The Politics of U.S.-China Relations, 1989– 2000. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Sun Yan. 2009. Taiwan Wenti Yu Zhongmei Guanxi [The Taiwan Issue in China-U.S. Relations]. Beijing: Beijing University Press. Sutter, Robert G. 2008. Chinese Foreign Relations. New York: Rowan and Littlefield. Swaine, Michael D. 2001. Chinese Decision Making regarding Taiwan, 1979–2000. In The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, 1978–2000, edited by David M. Lampton, 289–336. Stanford: Stanford University Press. ——. 2005. China, Exploiting a Strategic Opening. In Strategic Asia 2004–2005, edited by Ashley Tellis and Michael Wills, 67–101. Seattle: National Bureau of Asian Research. Tanaka, Akihiko. 2008. The Yasukuni Issue and Japan’s International Relations. In East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories, edited by Tsuyoshi Hasegawa and Kazuhiko Togo, 119–141. Westport, CT: Praeger Security International. Tang Jiaxuan. 2009. Jin Yu Xu Feng [Heavy Storm and Gentle Breeze]. Beijing: Shijie Zhishi Chubanshe. Tangney, June Price. 1995. Shame and Guilt in Interpersonal Relationships. In The SelfConscious Emotions: The Psychology of Shame, Guilt, Embarassment, and Pride, edited by Kurt Fischer and June Price Tangney, 114–41. New York: Guilford Press. Tannenwald, Nina. 1999. The Nuclear Taboo: The United States and the Normative Basis of Nuclear Non-Use. International Organization 53(3): 433–68. Tao Wenzhao. 2004. Zhong-Mei Guanxi Shi (1972–2000) [History of Sino-American Relations (1972–2000)]. Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe. Tao Wenzhao and He Xingqiang. 2009. Zhong-Mei Guanxi Shi [A History of China-U.S. Relations]. Beijing: Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Yuan Chubanshe. Taube, Markus. 2002. Japan’s Role in China’s Industrialization. In Japan and China: Cooperation, Competition, and Conflict, edited by Hans Hilpert and Rene Haak, 103–20. New York: Palgrave. Taylor, Gabriele. 1987. Pride, Shame, and Guilt: Emotions of Self-Assessment. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Theis, Rolf. 1989. Wiedergutmachung Zwischen Moral Und Intresse [Compensation between Morality and Interest]. Frankfurt: Verlag füer Akademische Schriften. Thies, Wallace, and Patrick Bratton. 2004. When Governments Collide in the Taiwan Strait. Journal of Strategic Studies 27(4): 556–84. Tien, Hung-mao. 1995. Taiwan in 1995: Electoral Politics and Cross-Strait Relations. Asian Survey 36(1): 33–40. Tsygankov, A.P. 2010. Russia’s Foreign Policy: Change and Continuity in National Identity. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Tucker, Nancy B. 2009. Strait Talk: United States-Taiwan Relations and the Crisis with China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Tyler, Patrick. 1999. A Great Wall. New York: PublicAffairs. Ugarriza, Juan Esteban. 2008. Deliberación En La Cumbre De Río: ¿Farsa O Triunfo De La Razón [Deliberation and the Rio Summit: Farce or Triumph of Reason?]. Paper presented at Primer Congreso de Ciencia de Politica. Bogotá. Vogel, Rolf. 1967. Deutschlands Weg Nach Israel [Germany’s Path to Israel]. Stuttgart: Seewald Verlag.

240

REFERENCES

——. 1987. Der Deutsch-Israelische Dialog: Documentation Eines Erregenden Kapitels Deutscher Außenpolitik: Teil I, Politik [The German-Israeli Dialogue: Documentation from an Exciting Chapter in German Foreign Policy: Vol. 1, Politics]. Munich: Saur Verlag. von Hindenburg, H. 2007. Demonstrating Reconciliation. New York: Berghahn Books. Wachman, Alan M. 2007. Why Taiwan? Geostrategic Rationales for China’s Territorial Integrity. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Wan, Ming. 2006. Sino-Japanese Relations: Interaction, Logic, and Transformation. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Wang Yongqin. 2003. Zhongguo Jie [The China Knot]. Beijing: Xinhua Chubanshe. Weeks, Jessica. 2008. Autocratic Audience Costs: Regime Type and Signaling Resolve. International Organization 62(1): 35–64. Weingardt, Markus A. 1997. Deutsch-Israelische Beziehungen: Zur Genese Bilateraler Verträge 1949–1996 [Germany-Israeli Relations: Concerning the Genesis of Bilateral Agreements, 1949–1996]. Konstanz: Hartung-Gorre. ——. 2002. Deutsche Israel- Und Nahostpolitik [German Israeli and Middle Eastern Politics]. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag. Weiss, Jessica Chen. 2013. Authoritarian Signaling, Mass Audiences, and Nationalist Protest in China. International Organization 67(1): 1–35. Wendt, Alexander. 1999. Social Theory of International Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——. 2004. The State as Person in International Theory. Review of International Studies 30(2): 289–316. Whiting, Allen. 1989. China Eyes Japan. Berkeley: University of California Press. ——. 2001. China’s Use of Force, 1950–96, and Taiwan. International Security 26(2): 103–31. Wispé, Lauren. 1991. The Psychology of Sympathy. New York: Plenum Press. Wolffsohn, Michael. 1986. Deutsch-Israelische Beziehungen: Umfragen Und Interpretationen 1952–1986 [German-Israeli Relations: Polls and Interpretations 1952–1986]. Munich: Bayerische Landeszentrale für Politische Bildungsarbeit. ——. 1989. Globalentschädiung Für Israel Und Die Juden? [General Reparations for Israel and the Jews?]. In Wiedergutmachung in Der Bundesrepublik Deutschland [Compensation in the Federal Republic of Germany], edited by Ludolf Herbst and Constantin Goschler, 161–90. Munich: Oldenbourg. Woodward, Bob. 2002. Bush at War. New York: Simon and Schuster. Wu Jianmin. 2007. Wai Jiao An Li [Case Studies in Diplomacy]. Beijing: Zhongguo Renmin Daxue Chubanshe. Wu Xinbo. 2004. Fanying Yu Tiaozheng: 1996 Nian Taihai Weiji Yu Meiguo Dui Tai Zhengce [Response and Adjustment: 1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis and U.S. Policy toward Taiwan]. Fudan xuebao (shehui kexue ban) 2: 54–60. Wurmser, Leon. 1997. Identität, Scham Und Schuld [Identity, Shame, and Guilt]. In Scham: Ein Menschliches Gefühl [Shame: a Human Feeling], edited by Rolf Kühn, Michael Raub, and Michael Titze, 11–26. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag. Xin, Xu. 2002. Coercion against Foregone Losses: Beijing’s Strategy during the 1995–1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis. Ritsumeikan Journal of Asia Pacific Studies 9: 15–44. Xiong Zhiyong. 2006. Bainian Zhong-Mei Guanxi [One Hundred Years of Sino-U.S. Relations]. Beijing: Shijie Zhishi Chubanshe. Xu Shiquan. 2007. Jidangzhong De Taiwan Wenti [The Taiwan Issue amidst Turbulence]. Beijing: Jiuzhou Chubanshe. Xu Xuejiang. 1999. Weixian De Yi Bu [A Dangerous Step]. Beijing: Xinhua Chubanshe.

REFERENCES

241

Yamazaki, Jane. 2006. Japanese Apologies for World War II: A Rhetorical Study. London: Routledge. Yan Xuetong. 2010. Zhong-Wai Guanxi Jianlan 1950–2005: Zhongguo Yu Daguo Guanxi Dingliang Hengliang [China’s Foreign Relations with Major Powers by the Numbers (1950–2005)]. Beijing: Gaodeng Jiaoyu Chubanshe. You Ji. 1996. Taiwan in the Political Calculations of the Chinese Leadership. China Journal 36: 119–25. Yu Keli and Jia Yaobin. 2010. Haixia Liang’an Guanxi [Cross-Strait Relations]. Wuhan: Changjiang Chubanshe. Zacher, Mark W. 2001. The Territoriality Norm: International Boundaries and the Use of Force. International Organization 55(2): 215–51. Zebich-Knos, Michele. 2005. U.S. Policy towards Cuba: Trends and Transformation during the George W. Bush Administration. In Foreign Policy toward Cuba: Isolation or Engagement?, edited by Michele Zebich-Knos and Heather N. Nicol, 31–52. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Zhang Chunying. 2004. Haixia Liangan Guanxi Shi [The History of Cross-Strait Relations]. Vol. 4. Fuzhou Shi: Fujian Renmin Chubanshe. Zhao, Suisheng. 1999a. Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 1995– 1996 Crisis. London: Routledge. ——. 1999b. Changing Leadership Perceptions. In Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 1995–1996 Crisis, edited by Suisheng Zhao, 99–125. London: Routledge. ——. 1999c. Military Coercion and Peaceful Offence: Beijing’s Strategy of National Reunification with Taiwan. Pacific Affairs 72(4): 495–512. Zhou Qi. 2009. Zhong-Mei Guanxi Liushinian De Huigu Yu Sikao [Reflections and Thoughts on Sixty Years of Sino-U.S. Relations]. In Zhongguo Dui Wai Guanxi Liushinian De Huigu Yu Sikao [Reflections and Thoughts on Sixty Years of Chinese Foreign Relations], edited by Zhang Yunling, 248–68. Beijing: Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Yuan Chubanshe. Zhu Jianrong. 1992. Chugoku Ha Naze Baishou Wo Houki Shita Ka? [Why Did China Abandon Reparations?]. Gaikou Foramu 49: 27–40. Ziegler, Melanie M. 2007. U.S.-Cuban Cooperation Past, Present, and Future, Contemporary Cuba. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Zou Jianhua. 2005. Waijiaobu Fayanren Jiemi [The Speaker of the Foreign Ministry Reveals Secrets]. Beijing: Shijie Zhishi Chubanshe. Zou Jingwen. 2001. Li Denghui Zhizheng Baobai Shilu [Record of the Revelations of Lee Teng-Hui’s Administration]. Taipei: INK.

Index

9/11 attacks on the United States, 1, 7, 10, 80–81, 83–89, 93–109, 170–75, 187; British response to, 169; Cuban responses to, 170–75; European Union response to, 169–170; Iranian response to, 174; Iraqi response to, 175; Libyan response to, 174; North Korean response to, 174; PRC responses to, 1, 10, 81–89, 100–108, 187, 191; Russian responses to 9/11, 1, 10, 80–89, 93–100, 107–8, 187, 191 Abe Shinzō, 181–82, 184 Abs, Hermann Josef, 113, 130–32 Achenson, Dean, 131, 137 Adenauer, Konrad, 110, 122–39, 140–41, 143–47, 149, 156, 191; and the Luxembourg Agreement, 130–39; meeting with David Ben-Gurion, 144, 149; speech before the Bundestag, 126–29, 134–35 Afghanistan, 83–86, 88, 93, 96–100, 104–6, 172–74, 185 Allen, John, 185 Andean Crisis of 2008, 165–69 anger, 18, 27, 46–50, 52–53, 60–61, 76–78. See also diplomacy of anger Angkor Wat, riots over, 164–65 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty of 1972, 85, 87–88, 99 anti-Semitic graffiti incidents in the FRG in 1959, 143–44, 149, 157, 191 apologies: in international relations scholarship, 115–16, 119–21, 176; between Japan and the PRC, 177–85; and the diplomacy of guilt, 118–21. See also diplomacy of guilt Arab League, 140–41, 148, 156. See also Germany, Federal Republic of (FRG): relations with Arab states Aristotle, 46–47 Armed Revolutionary Forces of Colombia, 165–67 Armitage, Richard, 96 Asian Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), 97, 104 audience costs, 30, 199n51

Barzel, Rainer, 154, 157 Belgrade bombing of the PRC embassy by the United States in 1999, 24–25, 31, 82, 185 Ben-Gurion, David, 129, 143–46, 149 Ben-Natan, Asher, 158 Bin Laden, Osama, 95, 103 Birrenbach, Kurt, 154–55 Blair, Dennis, 103 Blankenhorn, Herbert, 124, 135, 137 Bock, Richard, 63 Böhm, Franz, 122, 129–32, 136–37 Bolton, John, 96 Borusewicz, Bogdan, 14 Brandt, Willi, 159 Brentano, Heinrich von, 140–41, 145 Bush, George H. W., 200n115 Bush, George W., 80, 85, 88, 93, 95–98, 101–8, 172 Bush, Richard, 74 Cambodia, 164–65 Canada, 191 Castro, Fidel, 55, 170–74 Castro, Raul, 171, 173 Chávez, Hugo, 166–68 Chechnya, 82, 86–88, 99–100 Cheney, Richard, 102 Chen Li-An, 68 Chen Shui-bian, 75 Chiang Ching-kuo, 53 Chiang Kai-shek, 53 China, People’s Republic of (PRC), 18, 165; and 9/11, 1, 10, 81–89, 100–108, 187; anti-satellite test of 2007, 51; and arms control, 44, 57, 59, 62, 87–88, 104; and arms sales to Taiwan, 49, 54, 200n115, 75, 77, 87; and the bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade, 24–25, 31, 82, 185; counterterrorism cooperation with the United States, 103–4, 106; relations with Japan, 176–85, 191; response to Lee Teng-hui’s “nation-to-nation” comment, 74–75; support for U.S. invasion of Afghanistan, 84, 89, 103–7; and the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, 1, 10, 39–46, 53–79, 187

243

244

INDEX

Christopher, Warren, 55, 57, 63, 69–70, 73 Clinton, William, 24, 54–55, 57, 200n115, 201n123, 63–65, 69–70, 73–74 coercion: in contrast with the diplomacy of anger, 50–53, 62, 77–78; and the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, 43–46, 62, 72, 75–78; theories of, 42–43 Colombia, 165–69 constructivist approaches to international relations, 5–9, 28–29, 32–33, 35, 38, 188–89, 192 contempt, 189 Cornell University, 39–40, 53–54, 57–58 Correa, Rafael, 166–68 counterterrorism: international cooperation and intelligence sharing after 9/11, 95–96, 103–7, 172, 174; statements condemning terrorism after 9/11, 94, 101–4, 171–74 Cuba, 170–75 Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. See North Korea Deng Xiaoping, 200n115, 183 diplomacy of anger: and the 2008 Andean Crisis, 165–69; definitions of, 4, 40, 48–50; in contrast with theories of coercion, 50–53, 77–78; and Pakistan’s response to the killing of its soldiers by U.S. forces, 169; and the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, 10, 56–78, 187; and Thai-Cambodian relations, 164–65, 169 diplomacy of guilt: and the bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade, 24–25, 31, 82, 185; and the burning of Korans by U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan, 185; definitions of, 4–5, 110–11; and FRG-Israeli relations, 10, 111–12, 121–22, 134–39, 148–50, 156–58, 162–63, 187, 192; and Sino-Japanese relations, 176–85; stickiness of, 156–57, 163, 192 diplomacy of sympathy: and Cuban responses to 9/11, 170–75; definitions of, 4, 80–81, 91–93, 108–9; and earthquake diplomacy between Turkey and Greece, 175; and natural disasters, 81–82, 175; and PRC responses to 9/11, 10–11, 81, 106–9, 187; and Russian responses to 9/11, 10–11, 81, 98–100, 107–9, 187; and Russian responses to the death of the president of Poland, Lech Kaczynski, 15, 175; and U.S.-Iranian relations, 175 Dulles, John Foster, 189

earthquake diplomacy, 175 East Germany. See German Democratic Republic (GDR) East Turkestan Islamic Movement (ETIM), 88 Ecuador, 165–69 Egypt, 113–14, 147, 150–55 Eichmann, Adolf, trial of, 145–46, 157 emotion: basic components, 34; nature versus nurture, 32; and the study of international relations, vii–viii, 7–9, 19–21, 188, 192–93. See also emotional labor; official emotion; personal emotion; popular emotion emotional diplomacy: and constructivism, 5–9, 28–29, 32–33, 35, 38, 188–89; definition of, 2–3, 16, 37–38, 187–88; and emotion, 7–9, 19–21, 191–93; how to study, 33–37; and rationalist approaches, 5–6, 8, 21, 28–29, 38, 188; and stickiness, 192; as a team performance, 2, 23–26, 37; varieties of, 3–5, 27, 31, 33, 189–91 emotional labor, 2, 21–25, 27, 30, 37, 187–90, 192; and the diplomacy of anger, 49, 52–53, 74, 78–79; and the diplomacy of sympathy, 91, 98, 108–9; and the diplomacy of guilt, 118–19, 129 Emperor of Japan: emperor system, 176; Akihito, 180 English School, 32 Erhard, Ludwig, 146, 152, 154–57 Eshkol, Levi, 152, 156 European Union, 169–70 expressive gestures, definition of, 27, 196n48 FARC. See Armed Revolutionary Forces of Colombia Fernández, Leonel, 168 Fischer, Maurice, 126 France, 125–26, 132 friendship in international relations, 189 Gablentz, Otto von der, 159, 162 Genscher, Hans Dietrich, 160–62 German Democratic Republic (GDR), 112, 114, 140–43, 148–49, 151–54, 156 German-Israeli Relations. See Germany, Federal Republic of (FRG): and Israel (general); Israel, State of: and the Federal Republic of Germany (general) Germany, Federal Republic of (FRG): aid and loans to Israel, 114, 144, 146, 155–56; comparison with Japan, 176; establishment of diplomatic relations with Israel, 112, 114–15, 139–41, 143, 144, 146, 149, 150–58;

INDEX

and German scientists in Egypt, 147, 155; and the Gulf War, 159–62; and Israel (general), 1–2, 6, 18, 110–17, 121–63, 176, 184, 189, 191–92; reparations to Israel (see Luxembourg Agreement); weapons transfers to/military cooperation with Israel, 112, 114–15, 142–44, 146–52, 154–58, 161–62; relations with Arab states, 111–15, 136, 138–43, 147–58, 161 Gerstenmaier, Eugen, 151 Globke, Hans, 145 Goffman, Erving, 2, 17, 21, 23–25, 27, 190 Goldmann, Nahum, 110, 128–29, 132–33, 137 Gore, Albert, 64 Greece, 175 Group of Rio, 167 Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, 173 guilt, 3, 18, 117–21, 138; collective guilt, 126–27. See also diplomacy of guilt Gulf War, 1991, 84, 159–61 Hallstein, Walter, 134, 136, 141 Hallstein Doctrine, 141 happiness, 189 Harman, Avraham, 154 Hashimoto Ryutaro, 180 hatred in international relations, 189 Heuss, Theodor, 127–28, 135 history education: Germany, 143, 145, 157, 192; Japan, 178–79, 181–82 Hitler, Adolf, 22, 128 Hochschild, Arlie, 2, 21–23, 190 Holocaust, 1, 111, 123–25, 129, 133–34, 144–45, 160, 176 Horace, 46–47 Horowitz, David, 126 Hosokawa Morihiro, 180 Hussein, Saddam, 174 Indonesia, 54 Initiative for a New Cuba, 174 Insulza, José Miguel, 167 Iran, Islamic Republic of, 57, 82, 87, 93, 174–75, 189 Iraq, 82, 88, 93, 159–62, 174 Israel, State of: antipathy towards Germany, 123–24; and the Federal Republic of Germany (general), 1–2, 6, 18, 24, 110–17, 121–63, 184, 189, 191–92; and Iran, 189; aid and loans from the FRG, 114, 144, 146, 155–56; mobilization of pressure against the FRG, 152–53; establishment of diplomatic relations with the FRG, 112, 114–15,

245

139–41, 143, 144, 146, 149, 150–58; reparations agreement with the FRG (see Luxembourg Agreement); weapons transfers from/military cooperation with the FRG, 112, 114–15, 142–44, 146–52, 154–58, 161–62; and the second Lebanon War, 19–20 Ivanov, Igor, 96, 99 Ivanov, Sergey, 94–95, 99 Jansen, Josef, 150 Japan, 84; relations with the PRC, 176–85; and South Korea, 180–81, 183–84 Jewish Claims Conference, 110, 128, 132, 215n140 Jiang Zemin, 45, 60–64, 67, 74, 77, 100–107, 180–81, 183 Jordan, 147 Josephthal, Giora, 129, 137–38 Kaczynski, Lech, 13–15, 191 Kaifu Toshiki, 179–80 Karzai, Hamid, 98, 105, 185 Kasyanov, Mikhail, 95–96 Kelly, James, 87, 104 Kempner, Robert, 125 Kirchner, Cristina Fernández de, 167–68 Kishida Fumio, 182 Kissinger, Henry, 59 Knieper, Werner, 142 Kohl, Helmut, 161–62 Koizumi Junichiro, 181–82 Komorowski, Bronislaw, 13–14 Kōno Statement, 180, 182 Kosachev, Konstantin, 14 Krapf, Franz, 151, 153 Kuomintang (KMT), 67–68, 177–78 Küster, Otto, 129–31, 136–37 Kyrgyzstan, 83, 86, 88, 97 Lake, Anthony, 55, 65, 69–70, 73–74 Lavrov, Sergey, 14 Lee Teng-hui, 39–41, 44–46, 53–78; comments on nation-to-nation ties, 74–75; PRC criticism of, 39, 58, 60, 62, 66–69, 71–72, 74; presidential election of, 68–69, 72; visit to Cornell University, 53–60 Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) of Japan, 176, 180 Libya, 156, 174 Li Daoyu, 55, 57, 59 Lin Yang-kang, 68 Li Peng, 43, 59

246

INDEX

Liu Huaqiu, 68–70 Li Zhaoxing, 68 Löbe, Paul, 128 London Debt Conference, 113, 130 Lord, Winston, 54–55, 63–64, 70, 72–73 Luxembourg Agreement, 110, 112–14, 128–40, 144, 148–49, 152, 157–58; negotiations of, 128–32; signing and ratification of, 132–34 McCloy, James, 124, 128, 131–32 Medvedev, Dmitry, 13–14 Mendelssohn, Kurt, 125 military aid (FRG-Israel), 112, 114–15, 142–44, 146–52, 154–58, 161–62 military exercises: and the diplomacy of anger, 6, 50; in the context of the Taiwan Strait Crisis, 1995–96, 39, 41, 44–46, 60, 62, 64–67, 69–72, 76: Russian cancellation of after 9/11, 80, 95, 97 Morgenthau, Hans, 14, 18 Morocco, 156 Murayama Statement, 180–82 Murayama Tomiichi, 180 Musharraf, Pervez, 84, 103–4 Nakasone Yasuhiro, 179 Nashi youth movement, 14, 25, 191 Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 151, 153, 156 National Missile Defense, 82, 85 Nerva, Marqués Francisco de, 151, 152 Nicaragua, 167–68 Nixon, Richard, 177 North American Treaty Organization (NATO), 15, 82–84, 86, 96, 99, 102, 161, 169, 185 Northern Alliance, 84, 97–99 North Korea, 93, 174, 190–91 Norway, 191 nuclear arms, 40, 60, 68, 85–85, 87, 99 Nye, Joseph, 46, 64 Obama, Barack, 185 Obuchi Keizo, 180–81 official emotion, 2, 16, 20–21, 23, 25, 29–30, 99, 191–92 Ohira Masayoshi, 177 Organization of American States, 167–68 Osterheld, Horst, 114 Overseas Development Aid (ODA) from Japan to the PRC, 178–79, 183–84 Pakistan, 44, 54, 57, 59, 84, 103–4, 106, 169 Park Geun-hye, 182

Parrilla, Bruno Rodriguez, 170–72 Pauls, Rolf, 157–58, 163 Peng Ming-min, 68 People’s Republic of China (PRC). See China, People’s Republic of (PRC) Peres, Shimon, 142–43, 146–47 Perry, William, 63, 69–71, 73 personal emotion, 2–3, 16–17, 20–22, 26, 29–30, 52–53, 192 Philippines, 54 Poland, 13–16, 18, 25, 175, 191 popular emotion, 25–26, 99, 191–92 Powell, Colin, 83–85, 88–89, 96, 99–103, 107–8, 175 practice theory, 190 Primakov, Yevgeny, 86, 99 Putin, Vladimir, 13–14, 24, 80, 84–86, 88–89, 94–100 Qian Qichen, 55–57, 61–63, 71, 101–2 rationalist approaches to international relations, 5–6, 17, 21, 28–30, 38 remorse. See guilt reparations: as a gesture of remorse, 3, 18, 28, 119, 135–36; from the FRG to Israel (see Luxembourg Agreement); and Sino-Japanese relations, 177–78, 183–84 Republic of China. See Taiwan Republic of Korea. See South Korea Reyes, Raúl, 166 rhetorical entrapment, 28, 30, 92–93, 121, 156–57, 189 Rhodes, Frank H. T., 53 Rice, Condoleezza, 80, 86, 88, 94–95, 97, 102, 106 Roque, Felipe Pérez, 170 Roth, Stanley, 74 Rowe, Nicholas, 117 Roy, Stapleton, 56, 59, 63, 73 Rumsfeld, Donald, 95, 99 Rushailo, Vladimir, 94 Rusk, Dean, 152 Russia. See Russian Federation (RF) Russian Federation (RF): counterterrorism cooperation with the United States, 95–96; and the death of the president of Poland, Lech Kaczynski, 13–16, 18, 25, 175, 191; and responses to 9/11, 1, 10, 80–89, 93–100, 107–8, 187, 191; support for U.S. invasion of Afghanistan, 83–84, 89, 96–100

INDEX

Schäfer, Fritz, 113, 131–32 Schelling, Thomas: and coercion, 42–43, 198n29; and the madman theory, 8, 21, 52 Schröder, Gerhard, 150 self-help, 175 September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States. See 9/11 attacks on the United States Shalikashvili, John, 68 shame, 119, 127–28, 134–35; collective shame, 127–28, 135 Shanghai Cooperation Organization, 96, 102 Sharett, Moshe, 110, 123, 128, 133 Shinnar, Felix, 140–41, 145, 152, 156 Shirk, Susan, 24–25, 73–74 signaling, 5–6, 8, 17, 26, 28–29, 31, 38, 91–92, 188–90, 196n48 sincerity, 3, 5–7, 17, 27–31, 37 Sino-Japanese “history problem,” 178–85 Sino-Japanese Joint Communiqué of 1972, 178–79 Sino-Japanese relations. See China, People’s Republic of (PRC): relations with Japan; Japan: relations with the PRC Six-Day War, 150, 158 South Korea, 180–81, 183–84 statute of limitations for crimes committed during the Nazi era, 147, 153–55 Strauss, Franz Joseph, 142, 144, 146, 149 substantive gestures, definition of, 28, 196n48 Suettinger, Robert, 43, 57, 59, 64–65, 70 Süssmuth, Rita, 159–60 Suzuki Zenko, 179 sympathy, 14–15, 18, 27, 89–93. See also diplomacy of sympathy Taiwan, 89, 107, 177, 191. See also Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96 Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, 1, 10, 39–46, 53–79, 187 Tajikistan, 83, 86, 97–98 Taliban, 84, 93, 97–99, 103–6, 172 Tanaka Kakuei, 177 Tang Jiaxuan, 101–4 Tarnoff, Peter, 55, 63 terrorism: designation of Cuba as a state sponsor of, 170, 173; Cuban claims to be a victim of, 170, 171–74; PRC claims to be a victim of domestic terrorism, 88, 104–5; Russian claims to be a victim of domestic terrorism, 86, 94, 99. See also 9/11 attacks on the United States; counterterrorism

247

textbook issue. See history education Thailand, 54, 164–65 Three Communiqués (between the United States and the PRC), 54, 56, 63–64, 69, 76, 205n260 Tibet, 89, 107 traditional statecraft: definition of, 35; and emotional diplomacy, 1–2, 14, 16–18, 28, 37–38; as an explanation for PRC and Russian responses to 9/11, 83–89, 107–9 Treaty of Peace and Friendship of 1978 (PRC-Japan), 178 Trubnikov, Vyacheslav, 96 Tunisia, 156 Turkey, 175 Tusk, Donald, 13–14, 24 Ulbricht, Walter, 151, 153 United Kingdom, 82, 125, 132–33, 137–38, 169 United Nations (UN), 88, 123; and 9/11, 84, 96, 101–103, 106, 170, 172; and the ABM treaty, 85; and Afghanistan, 98, 103–106; and Taiwan seeking membership in, 42, 53, 63, 66 United States of America: and arms sales to Taiwan, 49, 54, 200n115, 75, 77, 87; and the bombing of the PRC embassy in Belgrade, 24–25, 31, 82, 185; and burning of Korans by U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan, 185; and Cuban responses to 9/11, 170–75; and FRG-Israeli relations, 122, 124–26, 131–32, 137–38, 144, 147–49, 152–55, 157, 162; and Japan, 176–77, 184; and PRC responses to 9/11, 1, 10, 81–89, 100–108, 191; response to the Bam earthquake of 2003 in Iran, 175; response to the death of Pakistani soldiers, 169; response to Lee Teng-hui’s “nation-tonation” comment, 74–75; and Russian responses to 9/11, 1, 10, 80–89, 93–100, 107–8, 191; and the Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1995–96, 1, 10, 39–46, 53–79, 187 Uribe, Alvaro, 166–69 Ushakov, Yuri, 95 Uzbekistan, 83, 86, 97 Venezuela, 166–68 Wang Guangya, 102 Wang Yi, 103 Wang Yifan, 101 War on Terror, 2, 82–83, 88–89, 99–100, 104, 107

248

INDEX

West Germany. See Germany, Federal Republic of (FRG) Wilkerson, Lawrence, 89, 99, 106–7 Wolfowitz, Paul, 87 World Trade Organization (WTO), 87 Xinjiang, 88, 104–5. See also East Turkestan Islamic Movement (ETIM)

Yachil, Chaim, 140 Yasukuni Shrine, 179–84 Yom Kippur War, 158 Zhou Enlai, 177–78, 189 Zhu Bangzao, 101, 106 Zhu Rongji, 101