Democratic Imperialism: A Blueprint Policy Review, No. 118 By Stanley Kurtz
(backgrounders): <http://www.nationalreview.com/kurtz/kurtz012803.asp> <http://www.nationalreview.com/kurtz/kurtz092602.asp> <http://www.nationalreview.com/kurtz/kurtz030303.asp>
Although the united states is the preeminent power in the world, we are not yet an empire. Notwithstanding periodic foreign interventions and our considerable international influence, we have not used our military to secure direct and continuous control over the domestic affairs of foreign lands. If anything, the United States has avoided empire. We have abolished the draft, reduced taxes, cut defense spending, and eschewed nation-building. Only recently, we were accused of ³abandoning² Afghanistan in the wake of the Soviet departure from that country. Today, Afghanistan may be the germ of a new American imperium.
Iraq forces the imperial question. In the aftermath of an Iraqi war, it may suffice to install a friendly autocracy, withdraw the bulk of our forces, and exert our influence from afar. Yet some have called for more. From voices within the administration like Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz, to policy intellectuals like Richard Perle, to esteemed scholars like Bernard Lewis, many have argued that only a democratic transformation of Iraq, and eventually of the larger Arab world, can provide long-term security against terrorism and nuclear attack.
In an important address in February, George W. Bush lent his voice to this chorus. In no uncertain terms, the president affirmed that ³the world has a clear interest in the spread of democratic values,² not least because ³free nations do not breed the ideologies of murder.² The president invoked the examples of American-led democratization in post-World War ii Germany and Japan, and he pointedly rejected the claim that Arab nations are incapable of sustaining democracy. What the president did not say, yet gently and ambiguously implied, was that so deep a cultural change would require America to occupy Iraq in force and manage its affairs for years to come.
Could such a venture in democratic imperialism be harmonized with our liberal principles? Even if so, would it work? Is it possible to bring liberalism to a society so long at odds with the values of the West?
All of these questions were posed and answered, both in theory and in practice, during Britain¹s imperial rule of India. Three great British thinkers, Edmund Burke, James Mill, and John Stuart Mill, not only philosophized about liberal imperialism; they lived it. Burke helped force a major reform of Britain¹s early imperial system, while John Stuart Mill succeeded his father James as the ³chief examiner² in the London headquarters of the British East India Company.
Burke on one hand and the Mills on the other founded the two competing moral and administrative schools of thought on the British Empire. Burke¹s colonialism was conservative, respectful of indigenous practices and elites, and insistent on the highest standards of stewardship. The Mills were skeptical, even contemptuous, of traditional practices and elites; they were determined to force a democratic social transformation. Neither approach, it turns out, was able to operate independently of the other. If we find ourselves shouldering an imperial burden in Iraq or beyond, we shall want to study the wisdom ‹ and the folly ‹ of Burke, the Mills, and their respective disciples. Far more than America¹s post-World War ii occupation of Japan, the British experience in India may be the key precedent for bringing democracy to an undemocratic and non-Western land like Iraq.
>From India to Iraq
British imperial India might seem an unlikely model for an American occupation of Iraq. American rule in Iraq would ideally be a successful and time-limited experiment in democratization. Yet the British governed sections of the Indian subcontinent for nearly 200 years. The earliest period of British colonial rule was marked by extreme exploitation and neglect. Once colonial government was placed on a sounder footing, even the best-intentioned policies of dedicated and sympathetic administrators frequently went awry, leading to serious social disruption. Midway through the Raj, the British harshly suppressed a violent rebellion, leaving a legacy of suspicion between ruler and ruled. The aftermath of rebellion ushered in the later phase of empire, which was marked by an ideology of racial superiority, continued exclusion of Indians from the higher levels of the civil service, and a growing independence movement that was opposed consistently, sometimes violently, by the British
. If anything, therefore, the British experience in India might best be viewed as a model of what not to do in Iraq.
The British Raj does indeed represent a useful countermodel for any American venture in Iraq. Yet the experience of India under the British was by no means entirely negative. In fact, the very movement of Indians to free themselves from British rule was a product of British influence. Above all, the British cultural legacy explains why post-independence India took a democratic turn. Nor was the emergence of Indian democracy an entirely unintended consequence of British imperial domination. Despite the many problems and conflicts of empire, several critical threads of British imperial policy were intended to bring about eventual democratic self-rule in India. When India finally did attain independence and democracy, it was in no small part due to those policies.
But why look to India at all when we have the American occupation of Japan as a model? That occupation was a successful and short-lived American-run venture in the democratization of a non-Western autocracy. Why not simply repeat the formula? The problem with the Japanese precedent is that the post-World War ii transformation of Japan was far less radical than meets the eye. Japan, after all, was already substantially modernized, else it would not have been able to challenge us militarily. Industrial might and an efficient, modern bureaucratic apparatus were keys to Japanese success, both during and after the war. And although World War ii Japan was far from democratic, military rule was actually a diversion from a long Japanese history of experimentation with government along Western and democratic lines. In comparison to Iraq¹s ethno-religious factionalism, moreover, Japan is culturally homogeneous. So American efforts to impose a democratic constitution on Japan succeeded
because they rested on a set of economic, social, and historical prerequisites, all of which are virtually absent in Iraq. 1The British, on the other hand, transformed a country with no democratic tradition into one of the more successful democracies in the non-Western world. This Indian experience more closely resembles the challenge we shall face in Iraq than does the example of post-World War ii Japan.
Democratic gradualism
How, then, did the British bring democracy to India? ³Very slowly² is a large and important part of the answer to that question, although this is not an answer Americans want to hear. Yet it is something we need to remember. Authentic democratic development is slow ‹ a lesson easily forgotten by a nation that was, in important respects, democratic from the start. Again, the example of post-World War ii Japan, which rests on a long and too-little-known history of indigenous experimentation with democracy, misleads us into thinking that supervised elections and imposed constitutional changes can, by themselves, suffice to introduce democracy to a non-Western country.
Until the 1830 s, British imperial policy in India was one of minimal interference with the indigenous social system. With a shockingly small number of British soldiers and administrators governing a land of many millions, the British had no desire to undertake potentially disruptive reforms of Indian society. Most British administrators were ³Orientalist² in inclination. That is, they were devoted to the respectful study of Indian culture. Orientalist scholarship served as the foundation for a policy of government by means of indigenous elites. In formulating that policy, the Orientalists drew on Edmund Burke¹s social conservatism ‹ his respect for the wisdom of tradition and for the local aristocracies that serve as its custodians.
As a prominent disciple of the liberal utilitarian philosopher Jeremy Bentham, James Mill became the leader of a reformist liberal opposition to the Burkean Orientalists. As chief examiner of the British East India Company, he drafted the memoranda of instruction that were sent to India during the 1820 s and 30 s. (Although Mill drafted the memos, and was highly influential, he did not have final authority over their contents.)
It was the liberals¹ education policy that successfully laid the groundwork for India¹s modern and democratic future. The Orientalists wanted to subsidize the advanced study of indigenous languages. The liberals, on the other hand, were determined to create a class of English-speaking Indians. Precisely because there were too few British administrators to govern India¹s vastness, the assistance of a corps of English-speaking Indian clerks was required. Yet liberal administrators were looking for something more than bureaucratic assistants. Their hope was to mold a class of Indians that was modern and liberal in outlook, a class that could eventually govern India on its own.
That is exactly what happened. Liberal administrative victories over the Orientalists in the 1830 s set up a system of English education that eventually produced a small but influential bureaucratic class of Anglicized Indians. Although a more conservative administrative policy of indirect rule through indigenous elites eventually returned (under the dual blows of failed land reform and the Indian Mutiny of 1857 ), a small but productive system of English-language education remained sacrosanct throughout British rule. By the 1880 s the growing class of English-educated Indians, frozen out of higher administrative positions, was agitating for a larger role in government. At that point, administrative liberals returned to power long enough to devolve a limited share of control to local representative assemblies on which Indians could sit. These English-educated Indians, who populated the bureaucracy, the courts, and the local democratic assemblies, formed the core of India¹s mo
vement for independence.
The British, of course, went back on their promise of eventual democratic self-rule, forcing Indians to seize their independence through a decades-long campaign of agitation and resistance. Yet the educational policies set up by liberal British administrators 100 years before independence had laid the foundation for democratic self-rule in India.
Another key contribution of liberal and reformist British administrators to independence was the construction of an all-India communications and transportation network in the 1850 s. An efficient national postal service, telegraph system, and railroad network were all laid down in that decade. Of course, this network increased the efficiency of British military and administrative control over the subcontinent. Yet the new infrastructure also generated a national consciousness among Indians, who had not previously seen themselves as members of a single society. In particular, the English-educated Indian bureaucratic class was brought to awareness of its shared identity, values, and grievances by the new networks of communication. Thus was born the idea of a modern, independent, and democratic Indian state.
The lesson in all this is that a slow process of English-medium education in modern and liberal ideas has the potential to transform a traditional non-Western society into a modern democracy. (Because of its status as the world¹s lingua franca, by the way, even Sweden now makes English a compulsory second language.) To work, such an education needs to be followed by actual experience in legal, administrative, and legislative institutions constructed along liberal lines. India¹s English-speaking bureaucratic class made up only 1or 2percent of the population. Yet that class was sufficient to manage a modern democracy and slowly transmit modern and liberal ideas to the larger populace. So the route to modernization is not a direct transformation of the traditional social system, but an attempt to build up a new and reformist sector.
Several problems with this scenario as a model for a postwar Iraq are immediately apparent. For one thing, it took just over 100 years to move from the establishment of English-language education in India to independence and democracy. We don¹t have that kind of time in Iraq, where our purpose is to liberalize the culture quickly enough to undercut the growth of terrorism and anti-Western ideologies. Of course, after an initial outburst of liberal enthusiasm, the British did everything in their power to prevent their Indian subjects from attaining democratic self-rule. In contrast, since our national safety depends on establishing a successful liberal society in the Arab world, we have no reason to delay. Ideally, we could see good results in the time it takes to educate a single generation.
That is still a long time. And we live in an era of nationalism. British rule actually created Indian nationalism, and in many ways the Raj depended for its survival on the initial absence of nationalist sentiment. Yet Arab nationalism has been a force to reckon with since just after World War i. In fact, the British themselves took over Iraq in 1917-1918 and initially tried to govern it directly. But by 1920-1921 , an Arab nationalist rebellion forced the British to abandon direct rule and install a friendly and pliable monarch instead. By the same token, any American attempt to govern Iraq, or to supervise the education and training of a liberalized bureaucratic Iraqi class, is sure to generate Arab nationalist resistance. So even if the democratizing lessons of British imperial India might work in principle, will we be able to implement them in practice?
There are at least two possible solutions to the problem of Arab nationalist reaction ‹ the Iraqi immigrant returnees and what we might call ³blended rule² (a combination of direct and indirect rule). The Iraqi returnees, who have lived in the West and imbibed its culture for years, may already be a class of modern and liberal citizens who can help to govern and reform their society. Unfortunately, the evident divisions in the ranks of the returnees suggest the ongoing power of traditional regional, ethnic, and religious loyalties among them. Nonetheless, the returnees may provide a sufficient number of relatively liberalized Iraqis to jump-start the long-term process of cultural change.
The other question is whether, after an initial period of military rule, America can devise a way of exercising influence in postwar Iraq that is something less than classic direct imperial rule, yet something more than the ³Orientalist² policy of indirect rule through traditional elites. (The latter policy might create a stable Iraq but will not produce a democratic Iraq.) This is a delicate and complicated question. To create a modernizing and liberal bureaucratic elite in a country where no such class exists, Westerners will be needed to run the schools and to serve as model administrators and judges. While the returnees may be able to help here, substantial American or Western involvement in the administration and staffing of a reconstructed Iraq will almost certainly be essential to any hoped-for democratic transformation. The question is, can that kind of intimate American involvement take place under the umbrella of an Iraqi government?
Even if we can reduce the process of generating a liberal, Western-educated, and modernizing bureaucratic class to a generation, and even if we can do so without provoking excessive cultural backlash, we still face the reality that authentic democracy takes time to develop. Holding democratic elections in a fundamentally illiberal environment invites ethnic conflict, Islamist or secular dictatorship, and the same round of military coups that eventually brought Saddam Hussein himself to power. This suggests that a period of quasi-imperial, and therefore undemocratic, control might be a necessary prerequisite to democracy itself. That brings us to another critical lesson of the British experience in India ‹ the paradoxical compatibility between imperialism and democracy.
A failed reform
James mill¹s theory of social change was straightforward: Replacing priestcraft and local despotism with wholesome government would quickly sweep away irrational prejudice. Educate the populace, make them secure in their property, govern them well, tax them lightly, and their economic habits will be transformed to resemble those of enterprising British citizens.
Mill¹s attitude toward indigenous Indian elites was diametrically opposed to that of the Burkean Orientalists. Where the Orientalists looked at Hinduism¹s sacred texts and saw legal subtlety and literary brilliance, Mill saw barbaric punishments and wild-eyed myths. For the Orientalists, brahman priests were the leading caste of the land whose understanding should be taken by administrators as the key to prudent rule. To Mill, on the other hand, brahmans were the ultimate embodiment of sinister priestcraft ‹ wielding abstruse rituals and extravagant tales to keep the masses ignorant and docile.
The Orientalist administrators feared that by displacing indigenous elites, James Mill¹s policy of radical reform would provoke a revolt. Yet Mill was confident that any prejudice in favor of tradition, self-rule, or indigenous elites would fall away once the populace perceived the social and economic benefits of Britain¹s modernizing policies. In Mill¹s utilitarian theory, the mind was a tabula rasa that could quickly be shaped, and reshaped, by changing external influences. Tradition, in this view, counted for little.
In practical terms, James Mill¹s strategy, which was eventually taken up by a generation of liberal administrators in India, centered on land reform. For Mill and his followers, the key to social progress in India was to undercut the power of reactionary local elites by deeding land to individual peasants. Once these peasant cultivators had secure ownership of their land, market forces would take over, and spontaneous economic development would rapidly follow. This formula for modernization is not unlike that favored today by Peruvian economist Hernando de Soto.
Yet in early nineteenth-century India, liberal land reform was a dismal failure. 2Reform did indeed undercut the traditional system of village self-rule and did also initiate a limited market in land. Yet the spirit of British economic enterprise did not follow. Instead, the local economy remained stagnant while the collapse of the traditional village political system put new demands on already strained British administrators.
The failure of liberal land reform was a vindication of sorts for the Orientalists. Yet they, too, had misjudged the situation. Even the Orientalist administrators had favored a policy of limited reform in the districts under their control. While they had no intention of undercutting indigenous elites, the Orientalists did sponsor surveys that recorded who worked the land. In doing so, the Orientalists meant only to verify that traditional village leaders were not unfairly exploiting peasants ‹ or deceiving the British ‹ as they collected taxes on the government¹s behalf. Yet the unintended effects of the Orientalists¹ land surveys were almost as disruptive of the traditional system of ownership and political control as the more intentionally radical reforms of the Millian liberals.
Although the upshot of reform was to parcel out control of land to individuals, and although the traditional politico-economic leadership of the village was greatly unsettled thereby, fundamental Indian patterns of caste and ³joint family² association remained strong. The notion of collective property ownership among kin, while disrupted in its details, remained pervasive, whatever the technical system of title-holding. With the bonds of traditional kinship and caste relatively unbroken, a shift toward capitalist enterprise was anything but automatic. Nor did either the Orientalists or the liberals have a very clear understanding of the real social underpinnings of the system they were (unsuccessfully) toying with.
The lessons of empire, then, include a caution to democratizing optimists. Western economic and political habits are not simply waiting to be unleashed by a few simple legal reforms. The real barrier to modernity in the non-Western world lies in the pervasive and recalcitrant structures of everyday life ‹ structures few Westerners understand. In India, the key barriers to modernization are the joint family system and caste. The counterparts in Iraq are the patriarchal family system, the bonds of lineage and tribe, and related conceptions of collective honor. 3Traditional social practices like these can sometimes adapt themselves to modernity. Yet a direct attempt to overthrow these structures is difficult to manage and unlikely to succeed.
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