Ethics and Diplomacy:
Contradiction in Terms?
by Sir Michael Palliser on Wednesday
24 May, 2000.
I must admit at the outset that I owe my title in part to my friend and former colleague, Sir Percy Cradock. At the beginning of a characteristically lucid and cogent lecture nearly a year ago at St. John's College, Cambridge, on "Morality and Foreign Policy", he suggested that for some people this could seem to be an oxymoron, a "contradiction in terms". Morality and foreign policy: ethics and diplomacy: two ways, apparently of saying much the same thing. But I shall try to show that they are not necessarily a contradiction in terms, though sometimes difficult to reconcile; and that, in practice, there is a distinction between Sir Percy's topic and mine, however alike they may seem. Ethics and morality: diplomacy and foreign policy: without wishing to split verbal hairs, I submit that we can and need to distinguish between each of these couples.
Ethics, in practice, are defined in a code, to which virtually anyone can subscribe, whether honestly or purely cynically. This means that ethics are more or less analogous to "motherhood", as that expression is used nowadays. They find at once their most precise and their most generalised expression in the preamble to the Charter of the United Nations, signed nearly 55 years ago and to which 185 governments now subscribe, on behalf of their peoples. That document is worth quoting, if only as an ironic reminder to us all of the commitments every member of the United Nations has accepted.
"We the peoples of the United Nations determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our life-time has brought untold sorrow to mankind, and to reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person, in the equal rights of men and women and of nations large and small, and to establish conditions under which justice and respect for the obligations arising from treaties and other sources of international law can be maintained, and to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom, and for these ends to practice tolerance and live together in peace with one another as good neighbours, and to unite our strength to maintain international peace and security, and to ensure, by the acceptance of principles and the institution of methods, that armed force shall not be used, save in the common interest, and to employ international machinery for the promotion of the economic and social advancement of all peoples, have resolved to combine our efforts to accomplish these aims etc.
One of the fascinating characteristics of that text is its timelessness - it could have been written with equal application to-day, not half a century ago. And I suppose it is the case that any government to-day which sincerely believes that it is fulfilling those pledges can reasonably claim to be internationally "ethical". The ethics in question are in no sense specific to any region or religion or ideology. They are universal and theoretically at least transcend the distinctions so familiar to us in the real world between, for example, so-called Western and Asian values, or the Christian, Muslim or Buddhist ethic - or indeed the ethic of the Enlightenment, of the agnostic or the atheist. Because, although myself a practising Christian, I would never deny that people of those persuasions may have a high standard of ethics to live by, indeed often higher than some of those who profess a specifically religious commitment.
But morality, I would argue, adds a further dimension to ethics. In morality, the ethic is subject to the touchstone of the individual or collective conscience. There may be acceptance in principle of the ethical code; but the way it is applied will be affected by the moral judgment of the human conscience - and that, of course, is formed by precisely those factors, religion, family example, education and the basic sense of right and wrong that those factors themselves induce. I need hardly say that I am not, at this point, concerned with the political, economic, military or commercial factors that in practice affect the international behaviour of a government, to which ethics and morality may be only tangentially related, even if a government tries to claim otherwise. My point, leaving aside the material factors just mentioned, is that there may be apparent agreement between peoples or governments on ethical standards, but their attitude towards what constitutes moral behaviour may still differ dramatically from region to region, religion to religion and even, of course, within countries themselves.
These may seem too obvious truisms to need restating. But there is so much confusion in the general use of these terms that I think some attempt at differentiation is needed. (I am reminded of the somewhat similar confusion that is widespread over power and influence: characteristics also very relevant to international relations, but too often discussed as if they were identical and not in fact distinct though closely related.)
So, if we draw some distinction between ethics and morality, can we do likewise for foreign policy and diplomacy? Here the answer is more clear-cut. "Foreign policy" defines the international objectives that a government or group of governments aim to achieve; and it is normally through "diplomacy" that they seek to achieve them. (Obviously, I am not overlooking Clausewitz's famous dictum. But the basic role of diplomacy in international affairs is the execution of foreign policy by peaceful means. Unless a government regards war as its objective, which can occasionally be the case, as we all know, the outbreak of armed conflict represents in fact the failure of diplomacy, whatever the cause, and a setback to the traditional conduct of foreign policy. In a European context, which is where I want principally to situate this talk, the Kosovo conflict is the most recent and obvious example of this.)
There is another example from the past, which is worth introducing at this point, because, like Kosovo, it raised the adequacy of diplomacy to achieve political - and, in both cases, perceived ethical and moral - objectives; and where the use of force to achieve those objectives was regarded as essential and indeed morally justifiable. I am referring to the ill-fated Anglo-French (or Franco-British) expedition to the Suez Canal in October 1956. For most of to-day's European generation this is now ancient history. But I dare say I am not alone in this room in remembering it clearly - if only because, in my case, it was the first time in what was to be a long period of public service when I asked myself if continuing to serve the then government could be reconciled with my conscience - a real moral dilemma.
The difference between Kosovo and Suez, if we compare them to-day, is that whereas for Kosovo diplomacy seemed manifestly to have failed and responsibility for that failure could confidently be ascribed to one man (though there will, of course, always be argument about that, as Russian attitudes in particular have shown) over Suez diplomatic action was continuing; but a conscious, if irrational, decision was nevertheless taken that that action was getting nowhere and that a tyrant had to be removed by military means, even if doing that required a very devious, not to say dishonest, presentational device to try to justify it to national and world opinion.
The failure of the enterprise is too well known to need description here. But we do need to remember that the men who made this dramatic mistake were upright and honourable men and they made it on the basis, amongst other things, of their judgment of the ethics of the case. As they saw it, a dictator in Cairo was seeking to destroy legitimate Western interests and to dominate by ideology, propaganda, terrorism and if need be military force, an entire region of vital concern to the West.
They were motivated by an honest but mistaken reading of the lessons of history. In the 1930s, as they saw it, correctly enough, the two main democracies of Europe, Britain and France, had not taken timely action to curb Hitler, while it was still possible; and that this had led directly to the horrors of World War II. A similar failure over Nasser could, they believed, lead to comparable horrors in the Middle East. He had to be stopped; and force was the only way.
Of course, with the benign benefit of hindsight, it now seems inexplicable that experienced statesmen could have made such misjudgments, both political and ethical. But that view itself is based on two misperceptions. First, a failure to understand the reason for the misreading of history that I have described; and secondly, linked to that, a misperception of the mood of the time and of the extent to which both moods and times have changed over 50 years. I am constantly struck, as I am sure many of you must be, by the failure of writers and reporters to understand, or try to explain, the way matters were perceived, by the press, politicians or public opinion at the time of which they are writing - or indeed analysing on Television or Radio. They constantly approach their subject from the public attitudes and perspective of 2000, as if they were those of the 1950s. I can think of many examples of this from my own experience. It was certainly the case of Suez. There was, as we know, immense controversy over the action, rightly so. But one must also recognise that there was a sizeable body of opinion in this country and even more in France, where I was stationed at the time, that wholeheartedly backed the action of the two governments and was deeply disappointed by their withdrawal. If Britain and France had not been obliged to stop but had continued (I wonder to where - to Cairo?) that support might well have increased, no doubt in parallel with the increasing difficulties and problems the two governments would have encountered.
Let me explain the main reason why I have juxtaposed, a little artificially, Suez and Kosovo. It is in order to underline, from the point of view of my topic this evening, the point I made a few minutes ago about the profound change in attitudes and therefore policies over the past half century. All those involved in the Suez affair regarded it, I am sure sincerely in most cases, as morally justified to use force to defend their own political, economic and military interests and those of people in the region who, they believed, were intrinsically friendly to us. Many of us believed then, and I suspect more believe now, that they were wrong. But at the time there was little questioning of the nature of the interests or the moral justification for seeking to protect them. The argument was essentially over the use of force and deception to do so. The attachment to an imperial tradition and Pax Britannica was still strong in this country; and similar, if somewhat different, attitudes were widespread in France, plagued as it was by the bitter Algerian conflict.
A comparison of those attitudes with the ones that have informed policy towards Kosovo brings out the extent of change since the 1950s; or even, one might say, since the later part of the 20th century, and especially since the end of the Cold War some ten years ago. Throughout the crisis of former Yugoslavia, the policy of Western European governments has inevitably had at its core the folk memory of the Balkans as the powder keg of Europe and the importance of resolving problems there lest they spread further afield; and there have, of course, been differing attitudes among the West Europeans towards the different Balkan participants, arising from the past history of each country's relations with them. But, increasingly, the main driving force for both Europeans and Americans has not been the perceived interests of one or other Western country but the importance of protecting the human rights and liberties of ethnic groups and individuals from persecution and slaughter by those of different ethnic or religious persuasion within the whole territory of former Yugoslavia. It is almost as if there has been a collective re-reading of the extract from the U.N. Charter that I quoted towards the beginning of this talk. I believe that the political leaders involved have been motivated by a genuine moral conviction that force was necessary to safeguard the interests of the human beings suffering violence and death in the territories concerned. History and the way matters develop in those territories now effectively under European and American tutelage will judge how right or otherwise our leaders were. But I think that at least one moral consequence emerges with complete clarity. Not only must a huge and costly effort now be made to help rebuild, politically, economically and in human terms what has, even with the best of intentions, been destroyed; but every effort must also now be made through diplomacy and not force to ensure that the trouble is contained and restrained elsewhere in the region. It is all too often in readiness to continue a sustained effort of this kind, when the immediate crisis seems to have passed, that Western governments show themselves inadequate. This is already, rightly or wrongly, being said about the renewed crisis in Sierra Leone, coupled with criticism about last year's so-called peace agreement brokered with the United Nations. Which leads to another conclusion - namely that if the United Nations are to be involved, as they should be, in the handling of these various conflicts and crises, the major member states must be prepared to involve them properly, with an adequate allocation of resources, material and moral, and not leave them all too often in the lurch, with little more than lip service. The U.N., for their part, clearly have to accept a responsibility not just for the diplomatic (and sometimes military) management of the crisis and its aftermath, but also for the ethical content of the governance of those territories. A pipe-dream, I can hear people saying. Maybe; but the alternatives do not strike me as at all appealing.
Moreover, one manifest casualty, though nowadays possibly a welcome one, of the process of change in international attitudes that I have described, is the provision in Article 2.7 of the U.N. Charter that "Nothing contained in the present Charter shall authorize the United Nations to intervene in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state or shall require the Members to submit such matters to settlement under the present Charter;" That part of the Article, of course, concludes with the let-out phrase "but this principle shall not prejudice the application of enforcement measures under Chapter VII." (The Chapter dealing with "Threats to the peace, breaches of the peace and acts of aggression.") However, recourse to Chapter VII has frequently been more evident in the breach than in practice. Ethics and diplomacy alike require more active U.N. involvement, however inconvenient that may sometimes seem to governments on both sides of the Atlantic.
I said earlier that I wanted to situate much of this talk in a European context. This responds, I think, both to the nature of the Trust and to the relevance of my subject to much of the current and future activity of the European Union. So I shall now move from the general to the more specific and try to discuss ethics and diplomacy as they affect and are affected by the European Union.
At first sight, it might seem that the principal ethical problems presented to E.U. foreign policy makers and to the diplomats trying to carry out their policy are liable to arise outside Europe rather than inside it. This is surely the case of the most obvious issues, such as arms supplies, human rights, the development of biological and chemical, not to mention nuclear, weapons and the protection of persecuted minorities, to list just a few. But the list encapsulates precisely the problem that faces the EU and its member governments: how to reconcile the diplomatic conduct of foreign policy with the ethical challenges that confront that policy. Increasingly, these challenges are confronting the EU as a whole, as it strives to construct a common foreign policy. The fact is that most of them can not satisfactorily be met by individual member governments, acting on their own, however much some of them might prefer to do so. The logic of this fact is in one sense helpful to the EU since it increases the need for a common policy and hence the pressure on governments to agree on one.
The search for such a policy in one form or another has gone on within the European Community since well before it became the European Union, with its specific "common foreign and security policy pillar", to use the jargon. And a good deal of progress has gradually been made over a period of years. This is only dimly perceived by public or political opinion in Europe and what has been achieved remains precarious. Those concerned have few illusions about the difficulty of achieving a really common policy and particularly one with a real and practical amount of "ethical" content.
The obstacles in the way have always been considerable. It was, after all from Europe that such heady concepts as sovereignty, the nation state and the balance of power originated. None of those concepts has been greatly identified over the years with ethics, though diplomacy (and thus policy) has been active in their support. The household names in European diplomacy over recent centuries, such as Richelieu, Machiavelli, Metternich, Talleyrand, Bismarck; as well as Castlereagh, Palmerston or Salisbury, without mentioning Lloyd-George or Clemenceau, do not immediately conjure up a vision of men dedicated to ethics or morality in preference to what the French call "raison d'état"(which can be loosely translated as "the State decides its interests, right or wrong"). Europe's baggage train of conflict, of political and diplomatic skulduggery is long and weighty. Bertold Brecht's "Mother Courage" is a kind of permanent symbolic reminder for us, if we ever looked like forgetting it.
That may be the bad news; but there is good news too. Whatever the European legacy up till the early part of the 20th Century, it was decisively put in its place by the two world wars during the first half of the century. It is tragic to have to recognise that it required the deaths of literally millions of men, women and children and the vast material destruction of those wars to bring Europe more or less to its senses - to a recognition that these concepts that originated in Europe (nationalism, sovereignty and so on) were not only obsolescent in a changed world, but were in themselves potentially inimical to ethical and moral behaviour in international affairs. It is sometimes claimed that the driving force behind the initiation and early success of the European Community was fear of communism in Europe and of its standard-bearer, the Soviet Union. With the latter's disappearance, so the argument runs, the old antagonistic tendencies of the European states and their nationalistic atavisms will re-emerge; and the unity of the European Union will prove ephemeral. I believe this to be nonsense, not least because its premise is false. Of course, there was real fear of communism in post-war Europe. But this found its response in the Brussels Treaty and then, with the Americans, in the North Atlantic Treaty and NATO. The European Community had different well-springs - the resolve initially of a handful of determined men in Western Europe, resolve forged in the crucible of World War II -and, strengthened in several cases, by their experiences in World War I -who were determined that Europe had to be so reconstructed as to ensure the permanent elimination of the warfare endemic over centuries to our continent, culminating in the two World Wars. I do not need to remind this audience of the action they took, which resulted, during a half century of peace in Europe, in the EU as we know it to-day. But I would contend that their action represented a conciliation between foreign policy and morality, ethics and diplomacy of a virtually unique nature. These were men of genuine moral purpose - Monnet, Schuman, Spaak, Gasperi, to name only a few - who, though not all of any particular religious or ethical persuasion, were convinced that their cause was ethically and morally right, as well as politically beneficial for Europe. They were also hard-headed and practical. They knew that to crusade for European unity on a basis of morality would be insufficient; it had to be shown to be of real practical and material benefit, political and economic, to its members and that a merging - or, as their opponents would say, abandonment - of national sovereignty and national interest would be of real advantage to all concerned.
Let there be no illusions: they have been proved triumphantly right. The EU represents a huge success story. It has overcome endless obstacles and difficulties in its 50-year history and it will face many more. The success may seem to be primarily economic; but it would not have been achieved without a major degree of political consensus and will; and a recognition that common action on the world stage, political or economic, brings more advantage to EU members than separate action by all or some of them. This leaves open a big question - is there still at the heart of the EU that powerful foundation of moral purpose which characterised its founders? Where in its common action, both in policy and in diplomacy is the "ethical dimension", to coin a phrase?
The answer to that, of course, lies in the present and the future. I have made clear my view of the past, at least in the early days. But what answer can be given now? I am perfectly happy with the notion of an "ethical dimension" to foreign policy, whether at the national, or, as I would hope, at the EU level. I am, however, sceptical of the merit of proclaiming it to a largely cynical world. As I have just implied, I do not recall Monnet or Spaak publicly proclaiming the moral purpose of their policy for Europe. That it had one, I know. But realistically they recognised that peoples and parliaments would need convincing not that their souls would benefit, but that their social, material and economic prospects would.
The same, I believe, is fundamentally true to-day, even despite the major change I have described in public perceptions of international morality and in particular of such developmental issues as poverty, the environment, human rights etc. Policy makers and their diplomatic executants are absolutely right to remember the demands of ethics and of their consciences in conducting international affairs. But they also have to heed the domestic pressures and interests of their electors in a democratic society, and, in those, morality may not be the principal consideration. Politicians may therefore be well-advised to establish clearly in their own minds what they will not do, for ethical reasons, rather than seek dramatically to proclaim and take action without adequate preparation of the necessary amount of domestic support. That support, incidentally, or lack of it will vary from country to country, depending on the subject and local reactions to it. Hence, in part, the difficulty of achieving a common policy on certain topics.
What then are the topics which now and in the foreseeable future are liable both to be acute and to pose acute ethical problems to the EU? Let me first dispose of one that is not, much discussed and argued over as it is. That is the euro: I can see no moral dimension to that; simply one of common sense. That a failure to join could before too long present some very unpleasant dilemmas to the U.K. is, I think, clear. But I do not see them as moral dilemmas.
On the other hand, there are several current and future EU problems with a distinct ethical dimension. Of these, by far the two most important, and in some degree related to each other, are enlargement and immigration (or the problems arising from the free movement of peoples and refugees, as well as economic migrants.) In both these issues, it seems to me, there are some clear moral imperatives which should motivate EU policy and diplomacy - and where, in practice, some of that diplomacy has to begin at home.
Enlargement is an imperative not just because of the Rome Treaty provision that any European state may apply to become a member. Treaty revision since then has rightly made acceptance of such an application conditional on the applicant state meeting certain important democratic and human rights conditions. That obviously applies to the candidate states of Central and Eastern Europe, towards whom the EU also has manifest prudential and moral obligations. After nearly half a century of life under a repressive totalitarian regime, they need our support in preserving and consolidating the political and economic freedom they have attained over the past decade and in making that achievement irreversible. That is a moral obligation for us; it is also a substantial political and economic opportunity. But, at the moment, the EU's feet seem pretty leaden on the diplomatic road; and as the major problems come up for negotiation (agriculture for one) there is increasing prevarication and procrastination from various parts of the EU. This derives in part from the recognition that structural reform of the EU's institutions is essential, if the enlarged Union is to work properly; but that apparently raises serious difficulties for virtually every existing member. This discouraging atmosphere is having a manifestly demoralising impact on several of the candidate countries. The consequences of delay and obstruction of this kind could be very damaging both to the EU itself and to the candidates and Europe in general. Common sense, common interest and moral purpose all combine to argue for a fresh impetus to be given to enlargement.
To achieve that, ethics and diplomacy need to work hand in hand; and here too, so far as the EU countries are concerned, diplomacy has to begin at home. If the moral imperatives of enlargement, as well as the mutual interests of the EU and the applicants are to be met, the EU must accept the need for change both in some of its policies and financial arrangements and in its structures and voting methods, as I indicated a few moments ago. None of that is easy, given long-standing interests - and powerful lobbies - in several member states. But if due weight is not given in the diplomatic negotiations to the "ethical dimension" - or, if you wish the political imperatives, since here at least the two coincide - the whole process could indeed be disastrously delayed, with the implications for all concerned to which I have already referred.
The second major issue, bedevilled in part from the same kind of problems as affect enlargement, is that of migration, the free movement of peoples, refugees and immigration to the member countries of the EU. Here too, perhaps even more than in regard to enlargement, there is a direct relationship between domestic and foreign policy; and the ethical aspect is self-evident. But, given the character of government policy, reacting largely to the varied domestic pressures in most member countries, conflict seems inevitable between ethical considerations and the diplomacy needed to carry out that government policy. Obviously, the extent of this conflict will depend on the extent to which ethical considerations are genuinely, rather than synthetically, taken into account by EU governments; and indeed, the extent to which they are even recognised to exist. This is, in fact, an example of where morality and conscience are profoundly involved.
We are all, I suppose, well seized of the problem in this country - "bogus asylum seekers flooding into the country" etc., reports of whose nefarious activities tend to drive out from much of the media any serious analysis not just of the moral aspects of dealing with immigrants, whether seeking asylum or not, but also of the potential benefits to this country that historical experience suggests immigrants (and particularly their descendants) will bring. Most other EU countries have similar problems to ours, though differing from country to country; and our common diplomacy is basically directed at trying somehow to stem the flow from "exporting" countries; and to influence each other not to pass on to neighbouring countries those unfortunates who turn up uninvited in this country or that. I suppose this must be one of the easiest problems to over-simplify and in particular to take a high moral tone over! So one addresses it with care. But, having entered that caveat, let me nonetheless say that I think it is a subject where the EU as a whole emerges at present with little credit.
There are, as I said earlier, many other issues of foreign policy which raise ethical questions and should stir the moral conscience of policy makers. As a consequence of the phenomenal change and speed of the process in information and communication in recent years, it has become increasingly difficult to separate foreign from domestic policy. This affects policy on matters such as arms sales, the environment or the defence of human rights: all issues which have a EU as well as a purely national dimension; and where there can be a real conflict between morality and policy, made taking many other factors into account beyond purely ethical ones. The art of the possible is not true only of politics: like it or not, in the real world it applies to ethics too; and we all know the dilemma. What justification is there for taking no action towards country A because similar - and equally merited - action towards country B, however morally justified, is simply not on the cards. We all know the examples of this; and we no doubt have differing views about them. The conclusion I draw, perhaps not over-courageously but I believe realistically, is that it is wrong to generalise, even when a general moral case can be made. Policy makers and the diplomats serving them have to work on a case-by-case basis; which brings me back to a point I made earlier: it can be more useful for them to decide what they will not do than to try on a general basis to say what they will. That is not, of course, remotely an adequate solution to some exceptionally difficult problems. But what I would hope could always be done before a decision is made is to ask "What, if anything, is the moral case here? Are there ethical considerations to be taken into account?" If the answer is "yes" and the considerations seem weighty, then a decision to over-ride them on whatever grounds has to be exceptional and to have very powerful justification. With some reluctance, I do not say it should never be taken, even though many will disagree with that. But it is much easier to think of unacceptable justification - to win an election, to secure a huge contract, even via torture possibly to save lives - than of acceptable ones. And perhaps least acceptable of all is to decide on a policy for reasons which have nothing to do with ethics or morality and then to scratch around for, if I may use the word, bogus reasons of morality in justification of it.
I think there is a tendency to see this problem of ethics and morality in politics as something that has caught the attention of the world relatively recently; indeed, I have myself referred in this talk to the remarkable changes in public attitudes in the last few years. I stand by that. But it remains the case that the dilemmas posed by this problem go back a long way. Let me, as I conclude, quote to you an extract from President Theodore Roosevelt's message to Congress in 1904.
"If a nation shows that it knows how to act with reasonable efficiency and decency in social and political matters, if it keeps order and pays its obligations, it need fear no interference from the United States. Chronic wrong-doing, or an impotence which results in a general loosening of the ties of civilised society, may in America, as elsewhere, ultimately require intervention by some civilised nation, and, in the Western Hemisphere, the adherence of the United States to the Monroe Doctrine may force the United States, however reluctantly, in flagrant cases of such wrong-doing or impotence to the exercise of an international police power."
"Plus ça change..." the cynic will say; noting, no doubt, that over the past 100 years the Monroe Doctrine has been expanded so as to cover the whole world, not just the Western Hemisphere. American foreign policy, as Henry Kissinger points out in his massive book on "Diplomacy", has long been a complex blend of the idealistic and the hard-nosed. In Europe in the past it is arguable that the hard-nosed has tended to be uppermost. But I think it only fair to men and women in public life, whether as Ministers or as members of the public service in most West European countries, to recognise that ethics and the personal conscience have often conditioned their attitudes towards policy; but so too has raison d'état; and the right balance between them is always difficult to strike. The aim in future should surely be to give a higher priority to what is right rather than simply to what is perceived as being in the immediate national or political interest. My own experience tells me how difficult that is. If this, however, is what is intended by "an ethical dimension to foreign policy", that is fine by me. But if it is simply treated as a convenient P.R. tool or gimmick, it will in due course boomerang on its author. On the whole, a prudent policy-maker and diplomat will be content, in effect, to do good with as little boasting about it as possible. The important thing is to do good; and if policy is sincerely aimed at that, there need be no contradiction between ethics and diplomacy.