Anti-terror and racial balance

So presumably, people have heard the hilarious news that police are stopping and searching white people under anti-terror laws so as to 'balance' racial statistics. Now, I have to say that this does confirm some of the anecdotal evidence I have heard from various people. What I find very interesting is Lord Carlile's response to this. Whilst he is obviously right to say that this is frivolous, bad etc., I find his particular reponse to be very telling:

"I have evidence of cases where the person stopped is so obviously far from any known terrorism profile that, realistically, there is not the slightest possibility of him/her being a terrorist, and no other feature to justify the stop."

And what does he mean by 'any known terrorism' profile? Well, of course it is Islamic extremism, thus Carlile opines:

If, for example, 50 blonde women are stopped who fall nowhere near any intelligence-led terrorism profile, it's a gross invasion of the civil liberties of those 50 blonde women.

(So interestingly this is another bit of evidence as to how much the war on terror stuff is massively racialised - since one need not be brown to be a Muslim). But, for those of us not priveleged with being white being stopped and searched is perfectly fine and indeed does not seem to 'invade' our 'civil liberties' at all:

"The police are perfectly entitled to stop people who fall within a terrorism profile even if it creates a racial imbalance, as long as it is not racist."

What else could be racist in this context? In terms of institutions there can be no other definition of racism. And in terms of individual stops and searches, what possible way is there to judge whether a specific search is racist or not, given that all such searches are apparently prima facie valid? Indeed, the reports abound with such ridiculous ideas, perhaps most amusing is:

Former British diplomat Sir Edward Clay told BBC Radio 4's The World Tonight programme he was subjected to a stop and search five weeks ago while on his way to work at the National School of Government, near Victoria Station in central London.

He said he had found the experience "sinister" and "intimidating". He told the programme: "I'm 63, I'm a grey-to-brown-haired white male, I'm 5ft 10 ins tall, looking extremely conventional."

Or, to translate 'but I'm white!'.

I seem to have gone off on a bit of an unstructured rant here. But I think this links quite interestingly to something I said a while ago about liberty, security, Marx and race. Essentially, I noted that in human rights rhetoric (and often its delpoyment) there is a dialectic between liberty and security. Liberty is the ultimate goal, but some people use this liberty to undermine liberty, so this means that we have to bring in 'security', which means:

This amounts to saying: the right to liberty ceases to be a right as soon as it comes into conflict with political life, whereas in theory political life is no more than the guarantee of the rights of man – the rights of the individual man – and should, therefore, be suspended as soon as it comes into contradiction with its end, these rights of man.

But I noted that in practice this isn't some kind of irresolvable dilemma. The deprivation of liberty is always focused on some particular - often racial, often political - group. The above illustrates this really rather well. The fact that a blonde woman being searched must be a violation of her civil liberties, whereas a black man being searched just because he is black (and so fits the profile) apparently can't have his civil liberties violated shows us the way in which this dialectic plays out.

Liberal interventionism at home...

Just a tiny post of little worth (more substantive stuff coming soon - I promise; and who could resist a 'principled opportunism'/natural law post, and something on left liberalism/republican freedom), I was just reading this article about the new counter-terrorism stuff (although the Guardian headline is ridiculous, clearly the confrontation with the Muslim Council doesn't overshadow the launch of an anti-terror strategy, it's absolutely integral to it), anyway, this got me thinking about the relationship between the external war on terror and the internal war on terror.

As I've constantly stressed, what I find most important about the war on terror is the way that it gives a select group of states the ability to intervene - seemingly with impunity - in a temporally and spatially unlimited way, seemingly against anyone, but practically against a certain number of target states (whose ranks swell and shrink according to needs). However, as I have also noted there has been a shift in emphasising that a whole range of 'intervention' options are open, quite apart from just military force (although let's not pretend that the war on terror didn't always involve these options becaus it did). The situation is thus created whereby states can 'intervene' (broadly construed) in those states that are in some way 'at risk' of generating terrorism, or harbouring terrorists. This obviously involves constructing some kind of 'model' (e.g. the 'rogue state') which has certain objective characteristics that produce terrorism. In order to prevent this these states have to be transformed, or contained - as such 'liberal' interventionism is a key aspect of the war on terror.

What's interesting is the way that this is reflected in domestic life, especially in the UK. This is seen above all in anti-terror legislation, which increasingly concerns itself not with terrorist acts - but with support, glorification and radicalisation, what I've always found fascinating about the anti-terror laws is the wa in which the definition of terrorism is so ridiculously broad as to potentially cover any number of activities, in this way the potential for unlimited intervention, which we see internationally, is produced internally as well.

But more disturbing is surely all of this counter-terrorism strategy stuff. Because here, it's not concerned with regulating acts (and most of the anti-terror stuff was concerned with acts, even if it is with acts which clearly ought not to be criminalised) but with creating subjects. Counter-terrorism strategies are obsessed with looking at what 'causes' someone to 'become' a terrorist. The aim is to intervene and stop these processes. This is - of course - the perfect complement to the war on terror's liberal interventionism abroad; in both circumstances the intervention can seemingly go unchecked in its quest to create liberal subjects.

This focus is - I think - very important. Because of course the point is that those 'objective characteristics' which produce terrorism (or what we would think of as terrorism) are often the self-same conditions that produce political radicalism. When this is combined with the broad sweep definitions of anti-terrorism, the state can quite legitimately police the radical left under the aegis of anti-terrorism, indeed, as Alberto Toscano has astutely noted a propos the Tarnac Nine, any radical political activism can be portrayed as a type of 'pre-terrorism'.

This is obviously why we also need to question the declared purpose of anti-terror legislation. Internationally, I would argue that one of the driving forces behind the war on terror has been the decline in the imperial power of the US and its attempt to legally entrench a hegemonic coalition. Might anti-terror legislation 'at home' serve a similar function insofar as it legitimates a vast extension of state power into social and political life. Furthermore, is it not telling that anti-terror legislation has found its greatest use not against terrorists, but against left critics of the government in times when its legitimacy is in crisis.

Of course, this doesn't mean the argument is in bad faith. Perhaps (and indeed this seems probable) from the perspective of liberal-democratic capitalism anyone who opposes in a radical way this state of affairs is - at the very least - a potential terrorist. This in fact seems to be the message that underlies a whole host of legislation, action plans, school sylabuses and in fact the entire 'citizenship' course (which school children have shoved down their throats).

Plus ça change...

Unsurprisingly (for me at least, and for others I'm sure), there has been a trickle of stuff in the news noting that Obama may not be quite glorious defender of 'international legality' that we thought he would be. So we've got news that Obama will continue with the extraordinary renditions policy of the Bush administration (sans the 'torture'; also people need to get their terminology straight: 'rendition' or 'ordinary rendition' is taken to refer to transfers regulated by law - e.g. extradition; extraordinary rendition is any extra-judicial transfer and so as such doesn't necessarily involve torture). In a similar vein, we have the news that the Obama adminstration is going to maintain Bush's 'state secrets' policy.

Now, I'll reiterate, this does not surprise me. Firstly, extraordinary rendition was a process that was authorised and used by (at the very least) the Clinton administration, there's a continuity that runs all through from Clinton, to Bush and I suspect to Obama, not to say that there aren't differences but simply that much of the basic 'shape' of the policy is dictated by particular imperial concerns. This links into my second point, I've been quite keen to argue that the legal policies of the Bush administration are very similar to the basic orientation of the Clinton regime (as was spectacularly displayed in Kosovo) basically, I think that - as a response to an obvious decline in hegemonic power for the US - there has been a drive to legally entrench the US' ability the intervene anywhere, at any time 'in the interests of the international community'. The idea that the election of Obama would be able to alter this was always - for me - a bit silly, because I believe that this policy is the reponse to deep-rooted structural problems.

That being said, what initially surprised me was the degree to which Obama has remained within the war on terror paradigm. I was thinking that perhaps we would see a move back towards the old 'humanitarian/liberal interventionism' model because - as Richard Seymour notes - he's got to sell it to his constituency. But on further reflection, I think that Obama's continuation of the 'war on terror' model (which Norm of normblog has gleefully and constantly noted) makes sense in international terms and internal to the US (particularly internal to the US).

So firstly, there is Obama's whole 'post-partisan' thing. The war on terror has significant cross-party appeal in the US. This is linked to the fact that ultimately it strikes me as much easier to defend the war on terror to the American electorate than a policy of liberal interventionism. This is because it is really quite difficult to pitch liberal interventionism as being in people's immediate self-interest (I mean, part of the whole strategy is to defend the idea that such interventions are not self-interested). The trick is to be able to make self-interest coincide - nationally and internationally - with the putatitve interests of the international community. The war on terror is a much easier way of doing this, and earns politicians 'realist' street cred. Internationally, although the war on terror may look like a self-interested power-grab by the US, I still think it holds up as more convincing than a programme of explicit liberal interventionism, especially as it doesn't have so many historical resonances with colonialism. Furthermore, a lot of Obama's base seem to be sold on the idea that post-partisanship requires sacrifice, meaning they are willing to give him an easy ride, telling in this respect is the muted (or non-existent) opposition (and indeed support) of various human rights groups to the retention of extraordinary rendition policy .

Secondly, I've always emphasised that - in terms of form - liberal interventionism and the war on terror are very similar - insofar as both attempt to articulate a legally entrenched hegemonic power. But increasingly, the two are intertwined in terms of substance too, this is particualrly evident with the claim - made a while back by Bush - that liberal, democratic polities are less likely to give rise to terrorism; and the mirror claim of liberal interventionists that liberal interventions stop terrorism (or refugee flows etc.). This being the case, I really do think that much of the difference between the two is really one of emphasis, which is why liberal bombers were able to come on board so quickly (another obvious point is that in the clash of civilisations rhetoric that forms the bedrock of the war on terror, the enemy is seen as illiberal, fundamentalist barbarians).

But, onto my third point, this difference in inflection can be crucial. A few years ago Ryan Goodman wrote an very American political-sciency (but nonetheless good) article on Humanitarian Intervention and Pre-texts for War, in it Goodman suggests that humanitarian intervention is actually a fairly terrible pre-text to go to war, insofar as it creates 'blowback'. Basically, by phrasing the intervention as humanitarian it sets up a certain series of expectations on the part of the population of the intervening states. These are to do with the methods of warfare (hard to say carpet bombing is humanitarian), other justifications (hard to act explicitly in your self-interest) and how you negotiate (you should be aiming as quickly as possible for peace). Goodman argues - fairly convincingly - that humanitarian intervention tends to limit the publically acceptable scope, extent and methods of warfare as compared to - say - war over territory. But such considerations are much more difficult in the case of a war that is addressed against terrorists - indeed precisely because terrorists are non-state actors who live amongst the civilian population the opposite considerations may come into effect - of course schools, hospitals etc. will be blown up but that's the terrorists' fault. So, here, the utility of the war on terror argument is that it maintains the scope of humanitarian intervention, maintains also its transformative aims - liberal deomcracies/western protectorates don't produce terrorists, but totally manages to avoid the restraints that humanitarian intervention might bring into play.

So, I suspect Obama is going to stick with the war on terror. Obviously, it will not be exactly the same, notwithstanding the retention of extraordinary rendition, I expect some of the more overt abuses will be significantly toned down. There's also going to be less posturing on the issue of international law and legal nihilism. I also think that there was something of a civilising influence that humanitarian intervention invoked (however tiny) and the scope of the war on terror is at least as wide as humanitarian intervention (and we need to avoid the idea that the war on terror was ever just about deploying military force).

We really should have seen this coming, since Obama only ever seemed to campaign as being a more sensible manager of the war on terror.

Newey on torture

Soz folks, nothing really substantial again, just thought I'd flag up this interesting little piece on torture by Glen Newey in the always invaluable London Review of Books. Particularly relevant to my mind are these passages (emphasis mine):

Sometimes the surgery ran into complications. For instance, Article 2.2 of the Convention against Torture, to which the US is signatory, states: ‘No exceptional circumstances whatsoever, whether a state of war or a threat of war, internal political instability or any other public emergency, may be invoked as a justification of torture.’ By the standards of legal covenants, this seems pretty plain. But the waters muddy when attention turns to the definition of ‘torture’. A reservation entered by the US to the Convention specifies that torture is to be understood as set out in the US Constitution. Sands argues that a second memo signed by Yoo wrongly advised Bush’s counsel Alberto Gonzales that the reservation meant that the US could legally set a higher threshold for physical and mental torture and remain in compliance. But, as Yoo’s memo to Gonzales points out, it’s not clear that any of the provisions of the Vienna Convention (to which, anyway, the US is not party) limiting the scope for treaty parties to enter reservations apply. Sands remarks that the US ‘could not change the international legal obligation’ (his emphasis); but that still leaves room to specify more closely what kinds of act the obligation proscribes.

This I think it absolutely correct, and something that has to be more readily admitted by the anti-Bush brigade. Much of the argument was not that 'torture is ok' in times of crisis etc. A lot of the most sophisticated argument was simply that the acts in question did not meet the relevant threshold of torture. Certainly, a lot of people are coming out of the woodwork at the moment saying 'actually it was torture', but I don't think that negates the fact that at the time the strategy of the Bush administration was simply to say - look, we're allowed to use some methods of interrogation that go further than torture - of course we are.

[And this is a problem that I think international lawyers have to face up to squarely. It seems to me that international law 'forces us' to think like a bourgeois state, insofar as people making legal argument have to accede to 'reasonable' demands such a state might make, like - 'well of course we have a right to defend ourselves' or 'well of course we are allowed to interrogate people' etc. It strikes me that once you step into this particular discursive field everything just becomes a matter of degree, which makes things rather murky. A case in point is - I think - Israel, once we adopt the 'legal' viewpoint we are forced to acknowledge the 'reasonable' demand that Israel must have some recourse against Hamas rockets, once you're in this place you also have to accede to the reasonable demand that this right can't just extend to 'killing the same number of people' and you're already at least entertaining Operation Cast Lead as a possibility. This is the exact same thing that goes on with the war on terror, once you enter international law's discursive field on these issues and you are forced to 'think like a state' it becomes very difficult to resist a good deal of the war on terror's logic.

This is obviously quite badly phrased but I think there could be something to this. Note to self - link this back to Orford's stuff on international law as 'narrative'.]

Sands rues the fact that the law was fitted to the policy. But law is not an organic whole for politicians and bad lawyers to mangle. No doubt the mangling is real enough. But law is a shape-shifting congeries of norms, precedents, opinions, opinions about opinions, claims to authority, and – when reasoning fails to deliver a decisive outcome – power-broking, for example by vote, as in the Supreme Court’s verdict on Hamdan.

In other words, it’s all a bit like politics. Faith in the ‘majesty’ of the law as transcending or trumping the grubbiness of politics looks like what it is: a reversion to charismatic authority. That is why those, like Ronald Dworkin, who like to supplement or supplant democracy with judicial decisionism, think that there must always be a ‘right answer’ to questions of law. The right answer turns out to mean identifying the rights that right-thinking judges think we should have.

Firstly, one is tempted (and Newey may already be saying this) to push the last sentence a bit further. Because when he says 'right-thinking' judges this can surely only refer to 'judges that share my views', as Schmitt noted all those years ago, the apparent recourse to judicial decisionism is always always just a displacement of the political. So actually, I don't think we're dealing with - and indeed we cannot be dealing with - a simple reversion to charismatic authority, even Dworkin has judges who he doesn't like (especially as he's from the US) Indeed, to my mind, anyone that reads Dworkin cannot help but notice that he really, really sounds like a liberal-Schmittian (I know the term sounds like a contradiction in terms, but read him and you'll see what I mean), simply putting a happy gloss on Schmittian decisionism.

Secondly, I think the whole 'fact that the law was fitted to the policy' is something that has to be examined further. Ultimately, I think, as does Newey, that if the law is indeterminate - or at least under-determinate enough that there can plausibly be a number of 'right answers' - what else do political actors do except shape the law around their policies. That being said, it's not necessarily the conscious, cynical manipulation that this might imply (although this obviously happens too) I often suspect that the legal justification advanced is 'naturally' the one that fits. This could also - I think - be linked to the 'state perspective' that international law provides; international lawyers are naturally pre-disposed towards thinking 'reasonable' interpretations are those which reflect state interests. There's also the third - empirical - consideration to make, from what I can see this is the standard procedure for states: they have a problem and they ask their legal advisors to evaluate its legality, with this there is going to be explicit and implicit pressure to 'make the case' (and this may be the way the question is put) for the policy.

I think this deserves more, but my mind has kind of turned to mush. But I will close by talking about some of the interesting observations of others. Firstly, Scott Newton, at the thing in Glasgow (who has a wonderful turn of phrase) described the legal form as constituted of subjects who are 'operated' by social actors in a strategic context. Secondly, China Miéville on recognition (in Between Equal Rights, 2005: Brill):

Of course to claim, based on this political understanding of recognition, that such recognition is illegitimate, is to stick to the implausible theory of international law as a body of rules. If it is instead understood as a process, then such politically informed manipulation and creation of legal facts is precisely the constitutive fabric of international law itself. Recognition, in this case, might be criticised as imperialist, immoral, stupid, or many other things, but it is nonsensical to criticise it as illegal.
p.236

If international law is a constitutive part of the political process (if indeed we are to take international law seriously) then it is no surprise to see that political argument is expressed in legal terms and that international law is intimately interconnected with international politics.

Some Thoughts on Imperialism and International Law

Richard Seymour (i.e. Lenin of the Tomb) has written some very interesting pieces that touch on issues close to those I have recently addressed – namely the historical and theoretical relationship between imperialism, humanitarian intervention, self-defence and the war on terror. Both of these pieces are very insightful and I would recommend people read them (although I assume such a recommendation on my part is pointless, as I doubt anyone who reads my blog doesn’t read the Tomb). That being said, I have a few nit-picky concerns with Lenin’s stuff, particularly as concerns the role an importance of [international] law.

Who has the right to self-defence?
One of the important things that I think has to be done with this post is to properly disaggregate all the legal issues and then use them to properly frame some of the problems that Seymour identifies. So, to start with, he notes:

It might be argued that today the lower caste of states do have some rights of self-defence, but these are heavily circumscribed. Thus, the ruling caste reserves for its exclusive use the right to weapons of mass destruction, to aerial bombardment, invasion, and so on. Israel has a right to all of this but, say, Iran does not.

Immediately, there is a problem. Seymour is conflating the right to use self-defence, with the degree of force which can be used in self-defence and the degree of force that can be used more generally in an armed conflict. Although this may seem like a pedantic distinction, I’ll argue later that it’s actually pretty important.

In a similar vein, Seymour points out the centrality of statehood to many of the arguments defending Israel’s actions, noting:

The question of statehood is important. It is not uncommon for Israel's supporters to emphasise the fact that it is a sovereign state while its designated foes (Hamas, Hezbollah, Fatah, Islamic Jihad etc) are non-state actors. This emphasis presumably derives from the perspective of Just War theory…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. But it strikes me that the more sophisticated defenders of Israel’s actions don’t really need to refer directly to Walzer on this point. Instead all that needs to be referred to is international law, which although increasingly concerned with non-state actors, still takes the sovereign state as its main actor. Indeed, in international law, the right to self-defence can only be seen as accruing to states. Thus, I’ve noted before, the anomalous character of the Palestinians in international law really muddies the water. Historically, in the period of decolonisation (when there was a really radical Third World movement) this argument was less prevalent, precisely because the question of violence in pursuit of self-determination by non-state actors was so vital to their interests. But with the general move away from an international law whose agenda genuinely was – to some degree – shaped by these movements this argument seems to have disappeared (and to be honest may well surface in the imperialist camp with the perhaps Kosovo/Georgia serving as a bit of a harbinger to this).

It’s important to note this, I think, because it actually buttresses Seymour’s more general argument. International law’s focus on statehood (as opposed to just Walzer’s) is deeply exclusionary. As Anghie and the TWAIL movement have shown us, the centrality of the sovereign state to international law has a genetic connection to the old exclusionary/transformative notions of a Family of Nations that were around in 19th century international law. These notions of statehood were irreparably bound up with notions of European (and I would insist capitalist) notions of internal social organisation. I think this is important to note because it’s not just some commentators who embody these commitments but very fabric of our international order.

The general thrust of Seymour’s work is particularly provocative and although I find it persuasive I think the above caveats would lead me to slightly different conclusions to him. Seymour argues [this is a long quote but I think it’s worth engaging with]:

This caste arrangement was once structured by claims of racial solidarity, such as those of Anglo-Saxonism. Such are the origins of the 'special relationship' between the US and UK in the later 19th Century, in which the US resisted the urge to annexe any part of British territory in Canada or the British West Indies while the British not only acceded to American expansionism but embraced it at key points, such as during the 1898 war. Anglo-American competition did not disappear, but it was twinned with a new strategic orientation based in part upon racial sentiment and fear of emerging rival imperialisms of Russia and Japan. At this point, race and conceptions of democracy were inseparably intertwined, the latter seen as a function of the former. That is, for American imperialists such as Theodore Roosevelt no less than for the British empire, democracy was appropriate to the 'white race' which had alone reached a state of self-government.

The trend since 1945, however, has been to make racism invisible - as Robert Vitalis puts it, there is a pervasive 'norm against noticing' the way in which the global order is powerfully structured by race … It would be pedantic to list the examples of democratic states that have been targeted for subversion and military attack by western states, or the democratic movements that have felt the iron heel of western repression. It is sufficient to note that in the most recent case of Israel's 'self-defence', the opponent has been the elected government of Palestine. Such violence by western states is neither democratic in method nor in aim, unless one is willing to descend to the argument that by definition political coercion by democratic states constitutes an enlargement of democracy's scope.

I have to say I have a real problem with this. Whilst historically it is true that much of the old international law was racialised, this racism was of a cultural/social/economic type, rather than of the biological type (or it was at least an odd mix of the two). This is particularly notable because although the standard of civilisation was not always applied ‘fairly’ there were a good many ‘non-White’ states which gained full legal personality, or were at least granted ‘semi-civilised’ status. Once we hit early on in the 20th century (I don’t know exact dates for all of this) China, Japan, Egypt etc. were all fully sovereign. There are two driving factors behind granting these countries sovereignty – one is the direct, immediate interest of imperial powers, so as China Miéville points out (Between Equal Rights, 2005, Brill at pp.240-250) the recognition of certain states as possessing some sovereign rights was essentially driven by the fact that the major imperialist powers had made treaties with these nations that simply had to be accounted for.

The second factor was the internal character of the states – which comes from both 19th century international law and the Mandate System – essentially once many states genuinely had massively altered their internal life so that they were large, capitalist centralised nation-states they were granted some legal personality. Ultimately, I would argue that can again be (more broadly) related to the idea of ‘interest’, these nations were forced to reorganise so that they would be more suitable for the spread of international capitalism. To my mind the racialisation of these issues is secondary, or rather, much of the racism is as ad hoc as the notion of civilisation (indeed the two are bound up), often responding to particular imperial interests.

I would argue that the above considerations hold true today, albeit in a modified form. So, Seymour is right to point out that – to some degree, although again we shouldn’t go nuts about this either – ‘democracy’ has assumed a similar role to civilisation. He is also right to point out that in practice this notion of democracy is highly flexible as a good number of democracies have been undermined by Western states – often mounting some kind of international law claim [although as an aside I think part of this comes from the very formal notion of democracy deployed by Western states; democracy is a set of institutions – largely symbolised by continuing elections – and rights – often property rights but also an abstractly free press etc. – which have to be guaranteed for the future. This allows substantively democratic movements who do not meet these conditions to be ignored, whereas brutal reaction acting in the name of these commitments to be supported].

But I really don’t think this is a racialised notion. To my mind this is – as civilisation was – much more about the interests of imperial powers. The West didn’t undermine Latin American or Arab leftist regimes because they weren’t white, they did it because these regimes contradicted their interests (and let’s not forget that the CIA ran operations even against some of its 'allies'). It seems to me that the criterion of democracy – as noted in my very long square brackets – has responded much more clearly to interests than to race. Now, often the two coincide, and I think some of this is just contingent – Europe developed capitalism first, Europe expanded first; so capitalist organisation is European – but it’s telling that imperialists don’t seem to care about the colour of its puppet regimes’ skins and will happily support some ‘brown-on-brown’ (and even brown-on-white) action should it support their interests.

Conclusions
Putting all of this hodge-podge together with some new stuff I want to make some conclusions.

Firstly, international law often has an abstract standard that it applies to everyone – this may not always be done fairly but in principle people support this. This abstract standard is something like – all states have the right to self-defence etc. But very often although this standard is abstract it essentially universalises a certain way of doing things which gives imperialist states a massive advantage. So every state has a right to self-defence. More importantly for us the rules regarding what it is permissible to do in war are massively in favour of high tech imperialist states. So, long range weapons which can’t be aimed properly (i.e. rockets) are ‘indiscriminate’ and as such any attack by them is per se impermissible. But long range, high-tech ‘smart’ weapons which nonetheless kill many more civilians are not per se indiscriminate and so the standard of proportionality, which is often largely a whitewash.

Indeed this abstract focus on direct-ness often operates in such a way. Whilst it is a war crime to directly target any civilian not taking part in the hostilities, it is not per se a war crime to launch an attack knowing that it will kill civilians not taking direct part in the hostilities (which leads to the ridiculous situation where a civilian driving an ammunition truck cannot be shot, but the truck could be blown up). As Marx noted, applied equal standard to unequal people is a right of inequality.

Often this is the favoured tool of the imperialists because it allows them to claim faux equality whilst massively reinforcing their own interests.

Secondly, outside of this equal standard there are some formally unequal standards that attempt to entrench imperial power within the law. Humanitarian intervention is one of these – insofar as the right clearly doesn’t accrue to everyone. More important in this respect is the War on Terror – which in practice is an attempt to entrench the right of certain states to intervene military unlimited by temporal or spatial considerations.

But, I believe that resort to this type of logic – and to some degree it underpins most Israeli interventions – often is a sign of weakness. The preferred method of imperialist states is surely to be able to operate through the ‘normal’, formally equal channels of international law as this allows them to avoid accusations of – well – imperialism. I think the vital point is that these sort of logics only come into play in the case of weakness or inter-imperialist rivalry. As I have previously noted, the US only resorted to strategies such as humanitarian intervention or the war on terror because it was facing opposition in the Security Council (although not initially with the war on terror).

What is common about both of these strategies – to my mind – is that whilst there may be something of a ‘colour line’, this colour line is secondary to, or viewed through the prism of, imperial interests. So, whilst the standards may be somewhat Eurocentric, this is – I think – largely because capitalism and imperialism grew up here (as it were). China Miéville – in his forthcoming article on Haiti – has a fascinating reflection on the relationship between international law and capital accumulation, arguing that we might well conceive international law as serving to facilitate capital accumulation. This is something I may run with in the next few years (providing someone gives me money to do a PhD), as we can interestingly see the initial period of exclusionary international law as linked very much with primitive accumulation. Present international law – and the way that it facilitates certain types of imperial violence – can be useful conceptualised in terms of accumulation by dispossession, allowing imperial states to intervene against those who are proving problematic for accumulation.

It’s vitally important to distinguish between these two and condemn them both. Because if we argue only that the second type (of formal exclusion) operates, we allow our opponents to point out the way in which genuine formal equality does operate.

Obama the Imperialist
I find this piece much more straightforward to agree with, so I’m not going to comment on it massively. One thing I would say is that the attacks in Pakistan seem to indicate that Obama won’t necessarily be dropping the ‘war on terror’ moniker (not that it really matters because, in substance, it is much the same thing as liberal interventionism). Indeed, in many respects Obama may simply strengthen the US’ claims to imperial exceptionalism. In the case of Bush it was ridiculously easy to point out the flaws and contradictions in claiming to love freedom etc. because of the obvious mistreatment of vast numbers of people – Guantánamo and extraordinary rendition being the most evident. But Obama has been quite decisive in ending much of this ‘spectacular’ mistreatment (through a series of spectacular moves of his own) whilst maintaining the claims as to American exceptionalism. The spectacular is actually quite a useful category for examining the transition from Bush to Obama. Bush (and the opposition to him) embodied the spectacular insofar as his administration was involved in some very spectacular forms of violence – torture, detention without trial, shock and awe. These forms of violence were vehemently opposed by a coalition of liberals and the left. But the point is that the US claims to exceptionalism should not just be undermined by spectacular violence but structural violence too – the prison industrial complex, immigration, poverty, complex racial problems. Since much of the opposition to the Bush administration was based on spectacular violence, Obama’s spectacular renunciation of much of this violence leaves him in the perfect position to argue for a renewed American exceptionalism.

John Bolton was very telling on election night – arguing that with the election of Obama the US could no longer be criticised for its racial problems (around 1:10). Ultimately, then, I fear that a lot of what China Miéville has said has come to pass – by emphasising the ‘revolutionary’, spectacular problems of the Bush administration (which did give us some allies) – we have undermined our abilities to criticise that which follows it, and may even have inadvertently created the conditions for a revitalised American exceptionalism.

The Non-War on Terror?

So, one story in this week is David Miliband’s repudiation of the ‘war on terror’. Now, notwithstanding the obvious cynical timings of the remarks (viz. just before Bush goes and Obama comes in) I can imagine that there are a good number of liberals (although not those of the cruise missile type) who draw hope from these words. The same can evidently be said (with less caveats) for the incoming Obama administration, especially in light of the noises Hillary Clinton has been making.

Personally, I’m not so sure. This is not to say that I think these people are lying (although they could be) but rather that this change in policy is much more likely to be a change in emphasis, with the same systemic, structural and conjunctural forces shaping this policy as before. However, I do think that Miliband’s piece illustrates – quite usefully – a certain liberal take on the war on terror.

Importantly, Miliband argues that:

The phrase had some merit: it captured the gravity of the threats, the need for solidarity, and the need to respond urgently - where necessary, with force.

These ‘merits’ should be borne in mind, because I think they tell us more than you might think initially. Having identified these merits Miliband goes on to identify some of the problems that he associates with the ‘war on terror’. Firstly, it ‘gave the impression of a unified, transnational enemy, embodied in the figure of Osama bin Laden and al-Qaida’ whereas in reality ‘the motivations and identities of terrorist groups are disparate’. Secondly, (and I think this is especially important to Miliband) it ‘implied that the correct response [to terrorism] was primarily military’.

I think that this misses a good deal of the real importance of the war on terror. The idea that the war on terror merely implied that the ‘correct response was military’ whilst obviously being correct (as the alternative could have been criminalising terror) misses the way that it also shapes the way in which military force can be used. In other words, Miliband’s analysis of the ‘military’ aspect of the war on terror misses its legal aspect. In this respect it’s worth revisiting an old post I made on a great article by Fredric Megret. Essentially, Megret points out that the logic of declaring a ‘war’ on terror didn’t just mean that ‘the correct response was primarily military’ but also that (owing to the continuous threat of terrorism and presence of terrorists all over the world) this military force was temporally and spatially unlimited – in other words it was a right to intervene anywhere, at any time.

This unlimited right to intervention comes with a second point, which again shows us that Miliband misses some of the (legal) import of the war on terror. For Miliband the logic of the war on terror treats terrorists as one unified bloc, again I think this is a shallow analysis that misses the real function. Because of course if – as above – the war on terror rhetoric lets you intervene against terrorists anywhere and at any time then we have a problem. Unless this ability is limited then certain rogue states etc. might take it upon themselves to use military force against their enemies. Thus, the designation of terrorists as the ‘enemy’ and (further) of certain states as ‘terror states’ or ‘terror supporting states’ is absolutely crucial. These states become disallowed from using force. The converse of this (and again this is crucial) is that certain non-terrorist, good states gain the right to act in the above special way.

Linked to this is that making terror ‘central’ in the way that the war on terror does means that terrorism is posited as threatening the integrity of the international system. In practice then, the move to war, created a legal situation in which a few – western states – are able to use violence, anywhere and at any time so as to secure the interests of the international system. In other words, the war on terror was a way for a certain section of imperialism to legally entrench its capacity for intervention against its enemies (because terrorists always reside somewhere an attack on terrorists is always an attack on a state).

Even in this piece Miliband doesn’t do this. Let’s return to the merits that Miliband identified with the war approach – clearly the sum total of these remains the same, terrorism is a massive threat (that must sometimes be met by force) and ‘solidarity’ has to be invoked against it. Indeed according to Miliband a community of ‘values’ is what needs to respond to terrorists.

So, in practice, what I have identified as the most salient features of the war on terror seem to go unchallenged by Miliband. This should not surprise us. Miliband has always been an advocate of humanitarian intervention. Indeed in November of 2008 he wrote an article defending ‘liberal interventionism’ (and this phrasing is important - liberal interventionism is - theoretically - much broader than mere humanitarian intervention). As I have previously noted, those salient features of the war on terror are – in some sense – a continuation of humanitarian intervention, whereby certain ‘liberal’ states gain the special right to intervene in other states, in the name of protecting the universal values of the system – e.g. human rights. Again, as I have noted before, these attempts at entrenching imperial power strike me as stemming from a structural weakness of Anglo-American power, which is seriously challenged on all fronts by a resurgent Russia, by China, by certain states in the Middle East, by Latin America and by domestic movements. This can only be exacerbated by the current economic problems.

So rather than address these key features, what is it that Miliband wants? Well it strikes me that his key manoeuvre is an attempt to move away from the perceived military focus of the war on terror. So what does Miliband want instead?:

Terrorist groups need to be tackled at root, interdicting flows of weapons and finance, exposing the shallowness of their claims, channelling their followers into democratic politics.

And from the liberal interventionism article:

Intervention should not always be military and only rarely be forcible. We must focus on intervening early, before a country descends into full-scale conflict – much as the international community did in Kenya following last year's election.

Where troops are needed, we must plan rigorously for the immediate aftermath. The first months after a military intervention are critical to maintaining local support and legitimacy. We must recognise that military solutions alone will not stop conflict. We need a civilian force – police, judges, engineers and others – with the professionalism and responsiveness of the armed forces. There needs to be clarity about who is in charge of the international presence, rather than fragmentation between countries and between military and civilian operations.

So, basically, Miliband wants to keep the scope of the war on terror in place, but wants to make a – quite Foucauldian move – from the ‘sovereign violence’ of war to the power of discipline. So he is basically proposing that certain imperial states have a monopoly on intervening in any number of seemingly domestic fields in countries on the periphery. Now, the first point to note is that this clearly isn’t something we should celebrate, there is at least something honest about invading a country and using military force. But also we need to realise that this is nothing new. Imperialist states have been claiming this right – or actualising such a ‘right’ in practice – since imperialist states first came into being. More importantly, the war on terror always involved this stuff too. It may be true that the Bush regime foregrounded military violence as being particularly important – but it also skilfully used the UN (with the Counter Terrorism Committee, 1267 Committee etc.), sanctions, aid etc. to achieve its aims. Now it may be true that the Bush regime was slightly less flexible than Miliband’s proposal, but I really don’t think there’s a fundamental break.

So then, why the rhetoric? Well, a big part of it has got to be ideological (in the crude sense). Knowing how unpopular the old war on terror is it becomes necessary to differentiate oneself from it. Shrewdly then, Miliband (and by extension Obama et al) is able to differentiate himself from ‘Bush’ without actually changing very much at all.

This is very clear in relation to international law. The Miliband-type liberal claim is that the Bush regime simply ignored international law and what has to be done is to ‘move back’ to the rule of law. But – and I think China Miéville puts it best – the problem with this is that:

[I]t allows right and left to agree on an agenda which actually obscures many truths of power. So for example, much of the mainstream left will stress how there has been a neo-conservative revolution manifested by an upsurge of violently aggressive unilateralism, a complete denigration of international law, the complete ignoring of its European partners and so on. What I would say is that in fact the American ruling elite are, and have always been, much more split and nuanced and variegated on these questions, as have the European elite, than that would suggest; and that this discourse of the European liberal left creates a kind of simplistic bogeyman. For every Richard Perle, saying that international law is dead, yay-hay, there is for example a John Yoo, very eruditely defending American imperial interests in international legal terms … So this discourse of revolution—from the right it can legitimate certain things, such as Guantánamo, which I’m not prepared to legitimate; and from the left, it lets European social democracy and some apparatchiks of American power equally off the hook.
p.8

(China has written a fantastic article on Haiti that deals with these issues which will eventually be available in the Finnish Yearbook of International Law – everyone must read it as soon as it comes out). I think the point here is totally right. The particular ignorance of the war on terror’s intimate connection with international legal argument was something I think both left and right wanted to promote in public. The right got to pose as big strong men. The left was able to ‘let law off the hook’. What was really important about this was that the liberal-legal-left could totally deny any complicity in the war on terror, brilliantly, when it was their turn to promote imperial interest they could simply claim to be restoring the ‘rule of law’ without really changing very much (and indeed changing very little fundamentally) [note - Phil has a good post that (as ever) disagrees with me, I need to address this properly].

Such are the politics of imperial law.

The League of Democracies and Hegemonic Power

Well, I finished my exams, and now just have the horrible wait for my results – what fun. Anyway, to stave off the ever encroaching threat of boredom here are some ruminations on some recent developments in international law. Over at Splintered Sunrise SS has been looking at the recent discussion – by a bunch of people – on the idea of a ‘League of Democracies’, he argues that:

You see, the point about the UN is its very universality. But that leads to a problem, at least since the great 1960s wave of decolonisation, which is sort of analogous to Britain’s Eurovision problem. That is, the UN is full of uppity Third World countries who believe they have a right to be heard and who have a distressing tendency to go off message and say the most extraordinary things.

I will return to this point a little bit later, as I do think there is something in it, but firstly I want to ask a few questions about the concept itself. My first question is what exactly is a League of Democracies supposed to do? I think it’s quite telling that Norm really doesn’t make much of a mention of this. In strict international law terms it is difficult to see exactly what such a League would do. It couldn’t ‘shape’ customary international law as against the ‘non-democracies’, since custom is (supposedly) made through the state practice and opinio juris of all states. Indeed, owing to international law’s consensual basis, such a League would likely hinder such a purpose, as ‘non-democracies’ would simply become persistent objectors to any norm the League tried to create. Secondly (and perhaps most likely), there is the use of force. Now, again, turning to strict international law, this wouldn’t wash, the UN Charter controls the use of force, subject to the exception of self-defence. Thus, a League of Nations couldn’t go around the Charter. Again, any ‘new’ rules of force that might be created would only be binding upon the members. What about treaty law? Well, I guess the League could decide that it would only include its members in whatever treaties it created. I’m not really sure this would work as a strategy, but in any case, the building of a ‘League’ doesn’t really add anything to such a strategy. Finally, there is the notion of some kind of League of Common Propaganda, again I’m not really sure what the League would add to this.

It thus strikes me that in terms of the existing international law, such a League is comparatively meaningless. However, perhaps what we need to understand is that this is an attempt to transform the law, what McCain says here is interesting:

"It could act where the U.N. fails to act," he said last month, and pressure tyrants "with or without Moscow's and Beijing's approval."

McCain said the League might impose sanctions on Iran, relieve suffering in the Darfur region of Sudan and deal with environmental problems.

Bearing in mind what I have said above – that acting together doesn’t really need a new League – I think we can only really interpret this as an argument that the LoD should start exercising the functions of the UN. More to the point, and bearing in mind the particular US posturing over Iraq, this probably means that they want the LoD to authorise force in the event of a ‘failure’ of the Security Council to secure a resolution to that effect. So what McCain is essentially proposing is that international law should not an enterprise in which formally equal states have some say over its content. Instead, what is argued is that a certain group of (dare I say it) civilised states should have the power to create law, and use force.

Now, for those of you who do not realise it, this bears a striking resemblance to the international law of the 19^th century. Here, according to its positivist conception, only civilised states were entitled to the full range of sovereign powers, with the right to make law being central. As a category civilisation was essentially structured around the European model of the nation-state, based on exclusive territorial sovereign and control, in practice this was not always applied fairly and often served as an instrumental device to project European power. But the fact remains that McCain’s vision seems strikingly similar to this form of international law – as against the post-colonial ‘consensus’ which emerged following decolonisation. Although one can question the extent of anti-colonial international law (indeed I will do so later, and this was essentially what my dissertation was all about) it is at least different in form to colonial international law, and this is important.

I think it should be immediately noted that proposals for a League of Democracies shouldn’t surprise us. In many respects it represents the logical conclusion of a number of prominent arguments about the use of force and the war on terror. So, firstly, the ‘Bush doctrine’ of pre-emptive self-defence. The content of this doctrine is well known, essentially the US reserved the right to act pre-emptively against emerging threats. But – as Anghie notes (here) this doctrine cannot operate within the present framework of international law:

All sovereign states are equal. Given that self-defence is arguably the central and most fundamental right of the sovereign, it would follow that the right of pre-emptive self-defence will be enjoyed by all states. Such a doctrine would surely contribute to enormous instability, given the various tensions that exist between states. Equally, it might be argued that if the right to pre-emptive self-defence is a part of existing international law, then both North Korea and Iran have a legal right to attack the United States.[1]

Should this be the case there are only two options. Either, we accept all states could do this in theory, but have limitations on the right in practice – through the maintenance of the balance of power. This itself represents a return to international law’s past – force was only ‘outlawed’ in 1928 following the Kellogg-Briand Pact. Yet there is another option, one can also legally entrench the balance of power. To some degree this was attempted in the Bush doctrine itself, where pre-emptive self-defence was indivisible from the concept of rogue states – who were the target of pre-emptive self-defence, but could not themselves use it. In other words, there is a return to the division between civilised and uncivilised states in the use of force. These problems also make themselves known in relation to a series of other doctrines elaborated by the United States and its groupies. Thus, humanitarian intervention (which actually hasn’t been invoked by the US) and the unilateral ‘enforcement’ of Security Council Resolutions both seem to require this dichotomous approach. I think it can be seen that the LoD represents the culmination of these doctrines, with the second option being taken, the legal entrenchment of the power of ‘civilised states’.

The question arises as to why this solution has suddenly arisen. In this respect I have found Tony Carty’s essay Marxism and International Law: Perspectives for the (American) Twenty-First Century (which is to be found in Susan Marks’ wonderful collection of essays International Law on the Left[2]). Carty notes that the myth of sovereign equality has always been constrained by hegemony. Thus, he notes that generally, the ‘first option’ prevailed:

By the time of the Korean War, the United States had ringed the Soviets and Chinese with an unprecedented number of military bases, which meant that not merely were there only two super-powers, there were, in fact, in the classical (Westphalia) international law sense of the term, only two (maybe three) sovereign states in the world, i.e. states with the power to declare and wage war.[3]

In other words, the US had no need to return to the colonial international law (what Gerry Simpson calls ‘legalised hegemony’) because it had factually curtailed the ability of its rivals to wage war. But – analysing various economic positions – he argues that the United States has now lost this dominance. It is financially and economically dependent on its former ‘protectorates’ and is ‘neither financially nor militarily capable of ensuring the monopoly of the use of force which has to be, since Max Weber, the characteristic of legality in modernity’.[4] Carty argues that this new-found weakness, ‘explains why [international law] is being systematically, or structurally violated’[5], I disagree with the precise nuance of this analysis. Carty forgets that one of the paradoxes of international law is that in order to make new law it is often necessary to break old law. Thus, whereas Carty argues that through the elaboration of its ‘illegal’ doctrines on the use of force the US is attempting to cow its erstwhile allies through a show a force, I would argue that something deeper is going on. Instead, the US is attempting to entrench its hegemonic position by building a legally empowered grouping of ‘civilised states’. In other words, since the US can no longer factually guarantee its hegemony, it is moving back towards the colonial model of excluding certain states and legally entrenching its power – it has taken ‘the second option’. But, since the US can no longer go it entirely alone, this objective is conducted in tandem with the War on Terror (or on ‘Rogue States’ more generally), in this way, the US is able to bring in Europe and its puppet states, as Anghie puts it:

[T]he WAT represents a set of policies and principles that reproduces the structure of the civilizing mission. Further, it is precisely by invoking the primordial, imperial structures latent within international law that this supposedly new initiative seeks to disrupt and transform existing international law. It is a novel initiative that relies for its power on a very ancient set of ideas – regarding self-defence humanitarian intervention and conquest. It is almost as though any attempt to create a new international law must somehow return to and reproduce, the colonial origins of the discipline. What is perhaps distinctive about the dynamic of difference as it is asserted in the WAT, is the belief that, in a globalised world, the transformation of the ‘other’ is essential for the defence, the very survival of the Western self. This could give rise to a uniquely dangerous situation of continuous and self-sustaining violence.[6]

This, I hope, at least helps us understand the structural imperatives behind the re-emergence of an explicitly exclusionary international law. This should be seen in the context of a growing imperial revival movement (the obvious example being Ferguson, but one shouldn’t forget the orientation of governments and newspapers in this regard) and the ‘importance’ of the decent left/neo-conservative movements. Of course, this question doesn’t answer the question of why it is that seemingly ‘decent’ people have gotten caught up in what is essentially a project for securing US hegemony. I’m not really sure (and frankly not that interested), but I guess it would take some kind of sociologist of the academy/intellectuals to offer a proper explanation.

What I think we can take away from this is that far from being a mere flight of fancy the idea of the LoD does represent something interesting and perhaps even fundamental about our current conjuncture, even if it will probably come to nothing.

---

[1] p.49

[2] 2008 Cambridge University Press

[3] Ibid. p.182

[4] Ibid. p.183

[5] Ibid. p.169

[6] Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of International Law, 2005 Cambridge University Press

Detention

And so once again the government has gone on a big terror offensive, and once again it seems to be an ill-conceived one. Here are a series of random thoughts on what I think about the idea of 42 days detention without charge. My first point to note is that this proposal represents a general trend towards the ‘infinite’ which is replicated in a lot of the countries which are participating in the war on terror. As its ‘high point’ this tendency is represented by Guantanamo, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to call this a moment in the same trend. So here are a few ideas about why 42 days detention (were it to become law) would prove anything but an exception.

Definition of Terrorism
As part readers of this blog will know, the way in which terrorism is defined in the United Kingdom has been a real bugbear of mine. The definition of terrorism which is operative in UK legislation is taken from the Terrorism Act 2000:

(1) In this Act “terrorism” means the use or threat of action where—

(a) the action falls within subsection (2),

(b) the use or threat is designed to influence the government or to intimidate the public or a section of the public, and

(c) the use or threat is made for the purpose of advancing a political, religious or ideological cause.

(2) Action falls within this subsection if it—

(a) involves serious violence against a person,

(b) involves serious damage to property,

(c) endangers a person’s life, other than that of the person committing the action,

(d) creates a serious risk to the health or safety of the public or a section of the public, or

(e) is designed seriously to interfere with or seriously to disrupt an electronic system.

(3) The use or threat of action falling within subsection (2) which involves the use of firearms or explosives is terrorism whether or not subsection (1)(b) is satisfied.

(4) In this section—

(a) “action” includes action outside the United Kingdom,

(b) a reference to any person or to property is a reference to any person, or to property, wherever situated,

(c) a reference to the public includes a reference to the public of a country other than the United Kingdom, and

(d) “the government” means the government of the United Kingdom, of a Part of the United Kingdom or of a country other than the United Kingdom.

(5) In this Act a reference to action taken for the purposes of terrorism includes a reference to action taken for the benefit of a proscribed organisation.

So, to sum, an act is a terrorist one if involves serious violence to a person, or serious damage to a person and is done to ‘influence the public’ or to advance ‘a political, religious or ideological cause’. This is obviously a hugely broad definition which includes (as a possibility) pretty much every political grouping in the UK today (as they all advocate this to some degree). Presumably then, if one is suspected of planning violence towards people or property for a political end there is the possibility of being detained for 42 days without being charged.

Of course, in practice ‘terrorist’ will usually be taken to mean ‘Islamic terrorist’, but even then the wide-ranging nature of the definition can feasibly cover protest which ends up in intended property damage. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that this would not be extended past this ‘core’ of ‘terrorists’ (not that I think this core is acceptable), there is nothing in the wording which doesn’t mean this might extend broadly to a number of political groupings which we wouldn’t think of as ‘terrorists’. Having established the ‘infinite’ character of the ‘definition’ of terrorism, we go on to consider some other elements of the proposals. The Home Office has offered four examples when the power might become activated.

The foiling of a major plot
There are problems with this right off the bat. What is a ‘major’ plot? One which kills a number of people? One that damages a lot of property? But this of course raises another question how much is enough? Perhaps the proposed law will set a number of people that might be killed which we be sufficient to count as a ‘major’ operation. But this itself would be difficult, does anyone really want to make the type of moral judgment calls that say ‘only ten people could die, well that’s not enough’?

So it seems to me that even in the abstract a ‘major’ operation is one which is hard to judge. This is of course compounded by the fact that the 7/7 bombings would presumably be treated as a major operation. Now, whilst the bombings are obviously abhorrent the fact is that only 50 killed were people in them, if this is taken as a benchmark for a ‘major’ operation, then I would imagine it could extend to a good number of ‘potential’ terrorist operations. Linked to this of course is the fact that it is ultimately impossible to know in advance how major a terrorist operation is likely to be. This is one of the true problems with ‘pre-emptive’ detention, just like pre-emptive self-defence it has to act before the ‘attack’ has taken place, but it is not possible to know how serious it will be in advance. Compounding this is the fact that by definition there is an absence of evidence in these cases (hence the need for longer detention). What this all tends to mean is that it will be very difficult to determine a ‘major’ attack before it happens.

A complex individual case
It strikes me that by definition any case which the police will request an extension for is one which is ‘complex’. If the case was not complex enough to warrant 42-days detention then presumably the police would simply have charged the suspect. Bearing this in mind, I fail to see how – in the abstract – such a category could be particularly useful. However, it is probably the case that this would be part of an overall justification, but this of course brings exactly the same problems prior.

A major operation
I take it ‘operation’ refers here to the size of the police operation. Again, this strikes me as problematic for the reasons raised above. Presumably a major police operation is one which corresponds to the threat of a major terrorist attack. I question how it is that the ‘size’ of an operation can really be judged. So again, it seems of certain, possibly unlimited application.

An operation involving many countries
Many countries? One? Two? Three? Involving? How close of a link? All of which seems to belie the fact that apparently we are living in an age of ‘international terrorism’ with international terrorist networks etc. It strikes me then, that even if a threshold is established for what constitutes ‘international’ this will still be massively over-inclusive.

These brief considerations are only meant to argue one thing. This is that the apparent ‘exceptional circumstances’ that might be generative 42 days are entirely indeterminate, in that they don’t provide any real guidance for a decision-maker as to when it is that the power becomes active. In effect then, the power becomes ‘infinite’. This is of course a function of the ‘discourse’ on terrorism, which posits that terrorists are everywhere, and always a potential threat. But the point is that this threat is always unknowable in advance, therefore anyone is a potential candidate for intervention.

Resolution?
Of course, ultimately this doesn’t necessarily matter. I personally would argue that indeterminacy is a structural condition that is thrown up systematically by the contradictory nature of the legal form. Since the law is a form of social regulation that operates as between abstract individuals it constantly oscillates between ‘protecting the individual’ and ‘protecting the public’, these two imperatives basically mean that diverse outcomes can be justified. The point therefore is not what the ‘law’ says, but what the decision-maker does (a decidedly Schmittian point I know). So what we have to question is – bearing in mind the potentially infinite character of such provisions how will they be resolved?

Here, of course there are a plethora of inquiries we could make. Schmitt, for instance, at first resolved this is a decisionistic fashion. Thus, he tended to argue (in Political Theology) that this decision would ultimately read of the personal decision of the decision-maker. Later he realised this position was probably inadequate and moved towards what he called ‘concrete order’ thinking, whereby institutional priorities are what determines a decision (he advocates this position in On the Three Types of Juristic Thought which people tend to ignore). Then there are the American Realists, who tended to argue that economic factors were the prime determinant of decision-making. I tend to think that our inquiry into decision-making cuts across several lines. Firstly, we do have to understand that an individual (or group thereof) is making a decision. But this decision is informed by a number of factors, these are primarily economic, political and (dare I say it) ‘moral’, but these factors are articulated within an institutional matrix. With this in mind, I think we should take a look at the way in which the ‘decisions’ about 42 days will proceed:

A chief constable and the director of public prosecutions ask the Home Secretary to authorise the extension which remains in force for up to 60 days. She then tells Parliament within two days the 42-day rule is available to police.

A judge has to approve the holding of each suspect for more than 28 days and the terror powers watchdog overseas the case. Parliament gets a vote within 30 days of the law being activated - and if they object, the 42-day power is quashed. If they approve, the power remains in force for the full 60 days.

Parliament cannot quash the power at the outset. If police applied to use the power on day 27 of an arrest, and Parliament did not get an opportunity vote until two weeks later, then an individual would have been held for the full 42 days before MPs had been able to oppose the measure.

The first point to note is that there will always be a tendency for ‘public pressure’ about being ‘soft on terrorism’ to push decision-makers towards deferring to the police. The constant threat that they might be responsible for the next big terrorist attack is something that will be politically important to Ministers and MPs and morally important to Ministers, MPs and Judges. This is reinforced by my analysis earlier – that it feels particularly difficult to say this number of deaths would not be sufficient to warrant depriving someone of their ‘liberty’. Furthermore, there is the pretty much omnipresent discourse about ‘the police’ which permeates everything, our society has a tendency to venerate the police and everything they say and do, although there may currently be problems, it still seems a political taboo to question the veracity or accuracy of police statements.

It seems to me that we can pretty well rely on a Home Secretary to go with most of what the police say about threats etc. Aside from the general political pressure, it is clearly the case that the institutional position of the Home Office tends to push Home Secretaries towards authoritarianism, or at the very least listening to the police. Now whilst this may not be the case in respect of pay, I tend to think that in respect of ‘security’ the Home Secretary will always agree with the police.

I’d imagine that – to a large extent – most MPs would be the same. Here I think we have to draw a distinction between the abstract and the concrete. I think that it is quite possible MPs will oppose an abstract law, which makes it possible to detain people, especially on the basis that it is ‘not needed’ or is ‘hypothetical’. This is because they can claim to be in favour of liberty as against hypothetical problems etc. But, when they are faced with the Chief Constable telling them ‘if we don’t detain this person there is a possibility he will conduct a major terrorist attack, for which you will be responsible’, things may be slightly different. This is of course always compounded by the fact that the police are unable to give all the evidence they have a their disposal, for fear of giving away informants etc. Ultimately, it seems to me that the political cost of going against the police and then being proved wrong is much better with agreeing with them and detaining an innocent man.

And finally the judiciary. Well, I think it is probably a little bit more complex. Firstly, it is the case that judges – as they are not elected – are not subject to direct political pressure in the same way that politicians are. This being said, judges are still participants in the collective, communal life of the country, and so as such are subject to some of the same forces. Furthermore, although judges are not direct participants in the ‘democratic’ political process they are nonetheless a constituent part of our political system as a whole. As such, their position can be threatened or strengthened in given political conjunctures. One need only observe the mini-declaration of war by Lord Woolf a while ago, to understand that judges are just as ‘political’ as your average MP.

Secondly, people tend to invoke cases like the Belmarsh detainees case to show that the judiciary is either ‘soft on terrorism’ or ‘finding the right balance’. But of course this is problematic, especially if one actually examines the reasoning in that case. In the wake of 7/7 the House of Lords (with the exception of Lord Hoffman) acknowledged that there was a public emergency which threatened the life of the nation. This meant that the only question was whether the measures were proportionate or not. The majority concluded they were not because there was no rational connection between the means and ends, and because there was irrational discrimination. In theory both of these problems could have been overcome by locking up everybody up rather than just foreigners. This being said I haven’t read many of the recent cases on control orders, so I’m not entirely sure about this.

Ultimately, when it comes to the judiciary, I think that they are less likely to immediately lock people up. But I do tend to think that when faced with the stark opposition between ‘liberty’ and ‘security’ a judge may ultimately choose the latter. Simply because there is always the chance – no matter how small – that he will be ‘responsible’ for a terrorist attack. Putting someone in such a concrete situation does not – for me – seem conducive towards finding a balance.

In lieu of a conclusion
So what do we conclude here? I think the first point is that the particular shape of the ‘enemy’ in the ‘war on terror’ (and indeed its characterisation as a war) tends to push ‘law’ to its indeterminate limits. This ends up creating exceptions with infinite grasps. But of course a concrete decision has to be articulated within this context. And it strikes me that any concrete decision will be so agonising, that seems to me it will allow for an unchecked expansion of this power, I leave everyone with a quote by Žižek (on torture) which seems appropriate, if not entirely so:

If the choice is between Dershowitz’s liberal ‘honesty’ and old-fashioned ‘hypocrisy’, we’d be better off sticking with ‘hypocrisy’. I can well imagine that, in a particular situation, confronted with the proverbial ‘prisoner who knows’, whose words can save thousands, I might decide in favour of torture; however, even (or, rather, precisely) in a case such as this, it is absolutely crucial that one does not elevate this desperate choice into a universal principle: given the unavoidable and brutal urgency of the moment, one should simply do it. Only in this way, in the very prohibition against elevating what we have done into a universal principle, do we retain a sense of guilt, an awareness of the inadmissibility of what we have done.

Hypotheticals

Picture the scene, a serial killer is on the loose, he's (for it is likely to be a he) is killing people very often. The police have suspects, but nothing firm. Every day this killer is on the loose more people are threatened, but the investigation is proving long and complex. Should we be able to lock these suspects up for 42 days? It's a hypothetical you say.

But maybe we should put in a provision in case it becomes unhypothetical?

Jacqui Smith...

... is an idiot! Her case for 42-days detention?

The sorts of scenarios we have been talking about have been those where there might be a range of multiple plots. It might be those where we have got an extremely complex investigation, perhaps to get evidence internationally or from a large amount of computer disks.

So, the existence of this provision is premised on an entirely hypothetical situation? Pft. More on this when I can be bothered.

'War'?

So in fact my triumphant return was somewhat less of both than I imagined it would be (it was not particularly triumphant and the rumours of a return were greatly exaggerated) that being said I think I'll make a conscious effort to post a bit more on both of my homes. Anyway, what I think I'll try to do now is just to post the occasional little tidbit and thought, in the hope that I can once again garner some readers. I was moved to post by an interesting article today, by Frederic Megret. The article was written in 2002 and is entitled 'War? Legal Semantics and the Move to Violence'. The article is a somewhat prescient account of how Megret thought the use of the term 'war' would affect the US global strategy.

Megret's starting contention is that although the term 'war' may not be used in its technical legal sense it nonetheless has implications:

If one appreciates the power that is in words, the fact is that, for all intents and purposes, ‘war’ as a word is likely to influence legal debate on the use of force – and statesmen know this better than any. In view of the previous care taken not to use the ‘W’ word, one cannot help thinking that there is more than simply a quantitative difference between the loosely and variously labelled skirmishes of the past, and the embracing of a word that belongs more to history books than to legal ones.
(p.4)

This starting point is a useful one, insofar as it manages to strike a good position between ignoring the legal implications altogether and making taking a legally imperialistic view, whereby particularly actions are saturated with 'legality'. Megret's substantive argument begins with the de rigeur reference to Schmitt's 'Concept of the Political'. Thus, in the aftermath of the 9/11 attack there was a traumatic gap owing to their lack of an explicit 'author' (p.6); this gap was fulfilled by the typical act of 'enemy positing'; which is - for Schmitt - the ultimate function of the sovereign is to designate the friend enemy distinction (which leads to war, which leads to the exception). So the response to the 9/11 attacks internally is a reassertion of sovereign power (and the political order), Megret's inquiry is how this will be manifested externally.

The first, vitally important, point to note here is that Schmitt typically talked about his enemy as the 'public enemy' (Concept of the Political, page 28) viz. the state, but of course the response to terrorism is directed against terrorist 'networks' not states, states are only an incidental target here (or so the reasoning goes). These Schmittian presuppositions are mirrored in international law concerning self-defence, the central thrust of his article is how this dynamic plays out.

It is worth briefly noting here some of the basic principles of self-defence in international law. Essentially, self-defence is activiated when one state makes an armed attacked upon another state; the reponse to this armed attack must be both necessary and proportionate. Whilst we are all willing to accept that there has been an armed attacked, the problem of necessity and proportionality causes a problem. Whilst this clearly includes force used to repel armed attacks, responses to such attacks - might often look like 'illegal' armed reprisals. In response to this there are two routes:

• Firstly, one can argue that self-defence includes the use of force to pre-empt an armed attack. Whilst it is clear that self-defence has always included force used against an imminent threat, this argument has to be much broader. It is not usually possible to know if a threat is imminent or not (since it is carried out by unpredictable terrorist networks), what must therefore be assumed is that, whilst terrorists exist, there is always an 'imminent' threat, and so the use of force is always on the agenda.

• Secondly (and linked to the above point) one can characterise the 'war' on terror as continuous, one which began with the earlier terrorist attacks and continues to this day. Again the result of this is that any 'self-defence' can be continuously exercised.

Both of these outcomes lead to the same result, that self-defence loses the 'time restraint', meaning there is no time limit to its exercise. The second problem with the self-defence rationale, is that self-defence can only be exercised against states. This is true both factually and legally. Factually, because terrorists always reside in an area which is under the jurisdiction of some other state, therefore any attack on 'terrorists' is by consequence an attack on some other state's territory. Legally, this is so because any 'armed attack' to which a state is entitled to respond must be in some way attributable to another state.

This problem of imputing the behaviour of non-state actors, to states becomes crucial in the 'war on terror'. There are a number of ways in which responsibility can be imputed in international law, I don't intend to go into them here, but we can say a few things. Firstly, harbouring people explicitly isn't a way of incurring international responsibility, it's a breach of a direct obligation under the Friendly Relations Declaration, but it doesn't mean their conduct becomes your own. Secondly, 'control' and 'endorsement' are modes of imputing responsibility, but there have been few instances of 'terrorist supporting' regimes having active control (particularly over Al-Qaeda) or overtly endorsing such attacks. Finally, supplying terrorists whilst again a direct breach of international obligations it only imputes responsibility if there is direct control (something the US has often used to its advantage).

In order to actualise its 'war' policy, the US has been forced to argue that harbouring, supplying or even being lax on terrorists is sufficient to incur responsibility on the part of a state; as Megret notes:

But if a right to self-defence were exercisable on the basis of half-disclosed evidence against any country that had at one time or other been lax on ‘terrorism’ (assuming, of course, that one could agree on a definition of terrorism), it is not difficult to see how one might be confronted with a war that is not only infinite in time, but also risks being infinite in space, extending potentially to all corners of the earth.
p.24

What Megret therefore predicted was that the language of 'war' means that any 'war' on terror necessarily implies violence unlimited by time or space. To return to the Schmittian theme the exception would become the norm. He saw this reflected in the usage of the terms 'Infinite Justice' and 'Enduring Freedom'. This prediction remains, to this day, strikingly accurate and penetrating. Furthermore, as Ranciere noted the effects of this become dialectical. What starts off as a response to stabilise the internal order (as reflected in civil liberties etc.) is pushed into the external sphere (as reflected in war), rebounds back into the internal sphere, the infinite exception in the shape of war becomes the infinite exception in respect of internal political life.