The Promise of Democratic Peace
By Condoleezza Rice
Soon after arriving at the State Department earlier this year, I hung
a portrait of Dean Acheson in my office. Over half a century ago, as
America sought to create the world anew in the aftermath of World War II,
Acheson sat in the office that I now occupy. And I hung his picture
where I did for a reason.
Like Acheson and his contemporaries, we live in an extraordinary time
-- one in which the terrain of international politics is shifting
beneath our feet and the pace of historical change outstrips even the most
vivid imagination. My predecessor's portrait is a reminder that in times
of unprecedented change, the traditional diplomacy of crisis management
is insufficient. Instead, we must transcend the doctrines and debates
of the past and transform volatile status quos that no longer serve our
interests. What is needed is a realistic statecraft for a transformed
world.
President Bush outlined the vision for it in his second inaugural
address: "It is the policy of the United States to seek and support the
growth of democratic movements and institutions in every nation and
culture, with the ultimate goal of ending tyranny in our world." This is
admittedly a bold course of action, but it is consistent with the proud
tradition of American foreign policy, especially such recent presidents as
Harry Truman and Ronald Reagan. Most important: Like the ambitious
policies of Truman and Reagan, our statecraft will succeed not simply
because it is optimistic and idealistic but also because it is premised on
sound strategic logic and a proper understanding of the new realities we
face.
Our statecraft today recognizes that centuries of international
practice and precedent have been overturned in the past 15 years. Consider
one example: For the first time since the Peace of Westphalia in 1648,
the prospect of violent conflict between great powers is becoming ever
more unthinkable. Major states are increasingly competing in peace, not
preparing for war. To advance this remarkable trend, the United States
is transforming our partnerships with nations such as Japan and Russia,
with the European Union, and especially with China and India. Together
we are building a more lasting and durable form of global stability: a
balance of power that favors freedom.
This unprecedented change has supported others. Since its creation
more than 350 years ago, the modern state system has always rested on the
concept of sovereignty. It was assumed that states were the primary
international actors and that every state was able and willing to address
the threats emerging from its territory. Today, however, we have seen
that these assumptions no longer hold, and as a result the greatest
threats to our security are defined more by the dynamics within weak and
failing states than by the borders between strong and aggressive ones.
The phenomenon of weak and failing states is not new, but the danger
they now pose is unparalleled. When people, goods and information
traverse the globe as fast as they do today, transnational threats such as
disease or terrorism can inflict damage comparable to the standing armies
of nation-states. Absent responsible state authority, threats that
would and should be contained within a country's borders can now melt into
the world and wreak untold havoc. Weak and failing states serve as
global pathways that facilitate the spread of pandemics, the movement of
criminals and terrorists, and the proliferation of the world's most
dangerous weapons.
Our experience of this new world leads us to conclude that the
fundamental character of regimes matters more today than the international
distribution of power. Insisting otherwise is imprudent and impractical.
The goal of our statecraft is to help create a world of democratic,
well-governed states that can meet the needs of their citizens and conduct
themselves responsibly in the international system. Attempting to draw
neat, clean lines between our security interests and our democratic
ideals does not reflect the reality of today's world. Supporting the
growth of democratic institutions in all nations is not some moralistic
flight of fancy; it is the only realistic response to our present
challenges.
In one region of the world, however, the problems emerging from the
character of regimes are more urgent than in any other. The "freedom
deficit" in the broader Middle East provides fertile ground for the growth
of an ideology of hatred so vicious and virulent that it leads people
to strap suicide bombs to their bodies and fly airplanes into buildings.
When the citizens of this region cannot advance their interests and
redress their grievances through an open political process, they retreat
hopelessly into the shadows to be preyed upon by evil men with violent
designs. In these societies, it is illusory to encourage economic reform
by itself and hope that the freedom deficit will work itself out over
time.
Though the broader Middle East has no history of democracy, this is
not an excuse for doing nothing. If every action required a precedent,
there would be no firsts. We are confident that democracy will succeed in
this region not simply because we have faith in our principles but
because the basic human longing for liberty and democratic rights has
transformed our world. Dogmatic cynics and cultural determinists were once
certain that "Asian values," or Latin culture, or Slavic despotism, or
African tribalism would each render democracy impossible. But they were
wrong, and our statecraft must now be guided by the undeniable truth
that democracy is the only assurance of lasting peace and security
between states, because it is the only guarantee of freedom and justice
within states.
Implicit within the goals of our statecraft are the limits of our
power and the reasons for our humility. Unlike tyranny, democracy by its
very nature is never imposed. Citizens of conviction must choose it --
and not just in one election. The work of democracy is a daily process to
build the institutions of democracy: the rule of law, an independent
judiciary, free media and property rights, among others. The United
States cannot manufacture these outcomes, but we can and must create
opportunities for individuals to assume ownership of their own lives and
nations. Our power gains its greatest legitimacy when we support the natural
right of all people, even those who disagree with us, to govern
themselves in liberty.
The statecraft that America is called to practice in today's world is
ambitious, even revolutionary, but it is not imprudent. A conservative
temperament will rightly be skeptical of any policy that embraces
change and rejects the status quo, but that is not an argument against the
merits of such a policy. As Truman once said, "The world is not static,
and the status quo is not sacred." In times of extraordinary change
such as ours, when the costs of inaction outweigh the risks of action,
doing nothing is not an option. If the school of thought called "realism"
is to be truly realistic, it must recognize that stability without
democracy will prove to be false stability, and that fear of change is not
a positive prescription for policy.
After all, who truly believes, after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001,
that the status quo in the Middle East was stable, beneficial and worth
defending? How could it have been prudent to preserve the state of
affairs in a region that was incubating and exporting terrorism; where the
proliferation of deadly weapons was getting worse, not better; where
authoritarian regimes were projecting their failures onto innocent nations
and peoples; where Lebanon suffered under the boot heel of Syrian
occupation; where a corrupt Palestinian Authority cared more for its own
preservation than for its people's aspirations; and where a tyrant such as
Saddam Hussein was free to slaughter his citizens, destabilize his
neighbors and undermine the hope of peace between Israelis and
Palestinians? It is sheer fantasy to assume that the Middle East was just peachy
before America disrupted its alleged stability.
Had we believed this, and had we done nothing, consider all that we
would have missed in just the past year: A Lebanon that is free of
foreign occupation and advancing democratic reform. A Palestinian Authority
run by an elected leader who openly calls for peace with Israel. An
Egypt that has amended its constitution to hold multiparty elections. A
Kuwait where women are now full citizens. And, of course, an Iraq that in
the face of a horrific insurgency has held historic elections, drafted
and ratified a new national charter, and will go to the polls again in
coming days to elect a new constitutional government.
At this time last year, such unprecedented progress seemed impossible.
One day it will all seem to have been inevitable. This is the nature of
extraordinary times, which Acheson understood well and described
perfectly in his memoirs. "The significance of events," he wrote, "was
shrouded in ambiguity. We groped after interpretations of them, sometimes
reversed lines of action based on earlier views, and hesitated long before
grasping what now seems obvious." When Acheson left office in 1953, he
could not know the fate of the policies he helped to create. He
certainly could never have predicted that nearly four decades later, war
between Europe's major powers would be unthinkable, or that America and the
world would be harvesting the fruits of his good decisions and managing
the collapse of communism. But because leaders such as Acheson steered
American statecraft with our principles when precedents for action were
lacking, because they dealt with their world as it was but never
believed they were powerless to change it for the better, the promise of
democratic peace is now a reality in all of Europe and in much of Asia.
When I walk past Acheson's portrait upon departing my office for the
last time, no one will be able to know the full scope of what our
statecraft has achieved. But I have an abiding confidence that we will have
laid a firm foundation of principle -- a foundation on which future
generations will realize our nation's vision of a fully free, democratic
and peaceful world.
The writer is secretary of state.
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- 评论人:陈铁源
2005-12-14 01:19:34
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回“mailman”感谢你不辞辛苦地贴这个东西。由于没有交代,读起来可能不便。我又重新完整地贴出来了。再次感谢。以后有好东东,如果长了话,不妨发到我们的邮箱里,然后我们再统一发出来。再谢 |
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- 评论人:mailman
2005-12-13 14:59:08
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去年此时,这些前所未有的进展似乎是不可能的。到了一定的时候,一切似乎都将成为必然趋势。这正是不同寻常的时代的特徵,艾奇逊对此了然于胸,曾在他的回忆录中进行了准确的描述。他写道:"事态发展的意义一度隐藏不露,模糊不清。我们解读事物,探本求源,时而改变根据以往的观点采取的行动,在没有把握目前看来显而易见的情况之前,曾长时期举棋不定。" 艾奇逊在1953年卸任时,还无法了解他参与制定的政策会产生什么结果。他当然从来不可能预见,几乎40年之后,欧洲列强之间爆发战争已不可思议。他也不可能想到美国和全世界已因他制定的良策获得成果,促成共产主义的崩溃。艾奇逊等领导人在没有任何先例的情况下以我们的原则指导美国的国策,他们现实地面对当时的世界,但绝不认为自己无力改善世界局势,因此如今民主和平的前景已在整个欧洲乃至亚洲大部份地区成为现实。
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- 评论人:mailman
2005-12-13 14:55:32
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美国受今日世界召唤采取的国策有远大的目标,甚至具有开创性,但并不是轻率之举。保守观念可以对任何希望变革和要求改变现状的政策表示怀疑,但并不能构成一种理由否定有关政策的价值。正如杜鲁门所言:"世界并非一成不变,现状也并非神圣不可改变。"在我们这个发生巨变的时代,如果不采取行动的代价超过采取行动的风险,绝不能无所作为。所谓"现实主义"学说如果的确实事求是的话,就必须认识到事实将证明没有民主的稳定只是一种假象,害怕变革并不是一剂政策良方。
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- 评论人:mailman
2005-12-13 14:53:52
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我们在这个新世界的历程使我们认识到,如今各类政权的根本性质比权力的国际分配更加重要。一味否认这一点是轻率和不切实际的。我们的国策旨在建设一个各国实行民主和良治的世界,各国既能满足本国公民的需求,又能在国际体制中采取负责任的行为。试图用一条清晰的界线划分我们的安全利益和民主理念并不能反映今日世界之现状。支持所有的国家发展民主机制并不是一时的道义冲动,而是为迎接我们目前面临的挑战采取的惟一切实可行的方式。
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- 评论人:mailman
2005-12-13 14:53:08
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布什总统在第二个任期的就职演说中阐述了有关国策的设想:"美国的政策是寻求并支持每一个国家和每一种文化的民主运动与民主机制发展壮大,最终目标是结束全世界的暴政。"诚然,这是具有雄才大略的行动方针,这个方针符合美国对外政策的光荣传统,特别与哈里·杜鲁门(Harry Truman)和罗纳德·里根(Ronald Reagan)等后期总统的政策息息相通。最重要的是:与杜鲁门和里根雄心勃勃的政策一样,我们的国策之所以将取得成功,是因为这项国策不仅锐意进取,具有现实意义,而且以健全的战略逻辑和正确理解我们面临的新现实为前提。
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- 评论人:mailman
2005-12-13 14:52:03
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国务卿赖斯指出促进自由是保障安全的惟一现实途径
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