Tag Archive for: South America

Venezuela: what’s the mission, Mr President?

The proper use of military force in international relations is the indispensable subject of strategic policy. The national interests that could be promoted, protected or secured by the use or threat of military force, and how military force will achieve those objectives, should be intelligible in the military mission. So why has President Donald Trump again raised the possibility of US military intervention in Venezuela?

The impacts of military force are rarely, if ever, constrained to the battlefield. More often than not discontinuity, short- and long-term unpredictability, and occasionally revolution result. The mission defines the government’s parameters and determines the size and composition of the force, the rules of engagement, the exit strategy and, hopefully, the consequences.

Conceivably any combination of objectives might be driving the Trump administration. It might be to force a humanitarian corridor to bring much-needed aid to the hungry Venezuelans, a righteous abhorrence of corrupt and illiberal autocrats, or a wish to bring the blessings of democracy.

Despite the rhetoric, fostering democracy, enforcing human rights and addressing humanitarian concerns are not the drivers of US policy in Venezuela. If so, the administration would be threatening Abdel Fattah el-Sisi and Mohammad bin Salman as well as Nicolás Maduro.

Human Rights Watch’s 2018 report catalogued the corrupt and abusive practices of the dictatorial el-Sisi regime and enumerated the human rights abuses and war crimes taking place in monarchical Saudi Arabia.

Yet in Cairo, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said meekly, ‘[W]e encourage President Sisi to unleash the creative energy of Egypt’s people, unfetter the economy, and promote a free and open exchange of ideas.’ Despite the appalling war in Yemen, corruption, repression and intolerance in the kingdom, and Jamal Khashoggi’s murder, he uncritically lauded Saudi Arabia as ‘a powerful force for stability in an otherwise fraught Middle East’.

Perhaps the threat of more illegal immigrants generated by the chaos in Venezuela is behind Trump’s thinking. Or, less charitably, maybe he wants to seize the opportunity to secure greater US influence over Venezuela’s immense energy resources by installing a friendly government.

Military invention in Venezuela has risks and could be potentially counterproductive to US interests. It could descend into a prolonged conflict with the Venezuelan military, or another counter-insurgency imbroglio if strong civilian resistance was encountered. In the lead-up to the 2020 presidential election, this could be a divisive issue. Other Latin American nations undoubtedly would be perturbed if the US defaulted to past patterns of military intervention and regime change.

Interestingly, all of the above-mentioned possible justifications for intervention were noted in Congress’s Venezuela Humanitarian Assistance and Defense of Democratic Governance Act of 2017. It is also of significance that the bill expressed concern that if the Venezuelan oil giant PDVSA defaulted on bond payments, 49.9% of its US-based subsidiary Citgo would fall into the hands of the Putin-connected Russian energy company Rosneft.

Citgo owns critical infrastructure ‘including an extensive network of pipelines, 48 terminals, and 3 refineries’ across the US. The sense of Congress was that ‘the President should take all necessary steps to prevent Rosneft from gaining control’ of Citgo. Moreover, it warned, ‘Russia now owns significant parts of at least five oil fields in Venezuela, which holds the world’s largest reserves, along with 30 years’ worth of future output from two Caribbean natural-gas fields.’

Russia’s growth in economic and political influence in Venezuela has been also accompanied by increased Russian arms sales and strategic deployments—an unacceptable intrusion by a peer competitor and adversary into the US’s backyard.

More likely we’re seeing the reinvigoration of the Monroe doctrine and the reestablishment of the 19th-century doctrine of spheres of influence that informed it. The threat of military action is just part of the bigger geopolitical power settlement emerging across the globe—a declaratory act of delineation, or territory-marking.

As the US starts to pull out of the Middle East and Afghanistan, distances itself from NATO and contemplates disengaging from the Korean peninsula, Trump is sending a signal to Russia and China that the Western hemisphere is the US’s sphere of influence. In the era of declining hegemony and rising great-power competition, Russia has, in the Ukraine, Georgia, the Black Sea and Syria, already put down some forceful markers of its sphere of influence, as has China in the East and South China seas.

The Venezuelan crisis will probably not see US forces in the country. (Probably, but in these times anything is possible.) Trump has speculated that he ‘would have been a good general, but who knows?’ Maybe he would have been a good general. More to the point, perhaps he is a president-general who understands intuitively in the new geopolitical reality the strategic limitations of over-reliance on military force beyond the Western hemisphere, short of major war.

Americans have more often thought military leaders make good presidents than vice versa. First Washington, then Jackson, Taylor, Grant, Garfield, Arthur, Harrison and Eisenhower all transitioned to the presidency. As general-presidents, Washington, Jackson, Grant and Eisenhower stand out for their impact on the shape of the US republic and the office of the president, and their prudent, deliberate employment of military force.

Trump is not in that class. But his strategic policy might not be as incoherent as some judge. Perhaps he dimly perceives the decreasing utility of acting globally. The president-general might just be acting on an inchoate sense of the strategic logic inherent in the US becoming just one among a number of great powers each straddling and commanding a sphere of influence.

Securing the US’s sphere of influence in the Western hemisphere might be the national mission. There is no military mission for Venezuela, but a national strategic objective. Maybe initiating the remaking of post-hegemonic US strategic policy will be Trump’s most memorable achievement.

Santa Muerte will not save us: improving our understanding of Mexican organised crime

John Coyne’s recent ASPI report, Santa Muerte, are the Mexican cartels really coming?, is a welcome and timely addition to what is a growing area of interest for Australia’s security. Its main thrust is that there isn’t enough clarity in the current analysis of Mexican organised crime (MOC). In Coyne’s view, that leads to poor policymaking, which can have a negative impact on Australia’s security and the wider Asia–Pacific region.

I couldn’t agree more. Australian security agencies will require a much more nuanced understanding if they’re going to effectively tackle the future challenges of MOC.  The report makes some valuable policy recommendations—such as whole-of-government strategies, which could include public health approaches—and underscores the need to enhance international cooperation, especially in the Asia–Pacific region. However, it’s puzzling that there’s no recommendation that involves cooperation and linkages with Mexican authorities. For example, US and Mexican security forces have a long history of cooperation; Australian policymakers should seek a similar, productive long-term partnership with Mexico. That could include intelligence-sharing, research and policy linkages, consistent with recent joint responsibility discourses. It might also include multilateral partnerships with countries in the Asia–Pacific region.

Law enforcement is an important part of the response to drug trafficking, and the report makes that clear in its recommendations. But the enforcement focus can be effectively complemented by recognising ongoing policy discussions on harm reduction and prevention, the current debates taking place in Latin America and, indeed, the US about decriminalisation, the failure of the war on drugs, and other policy mechanisms that go beyond standard repressive responses.

Coyne offers part of the cartel narrative, which is important information in the design of potential bilateral policy instruments that tackle MOC. This includes issues such as the effect of US policy on the drug trade. While a report such as this may not have the space to do so, it’s important to understand the key instances that have determined the situation on the ground today. It’s vital to generate information on the number, location and scope of Mexican cartels, their dynamics, and/or their recent history in the Asia–Pacific region. The report doesn’t mention the war on drugs that’s been taking place in Mexico since 2006. Besides triggering a major security crisis in that country, the war has driven drug-trafficking cartels to look for other profitable markets, such as Australia. This has clear policy implications—for example, for bilateral trade relations between Australia and Mexico, Australia’s largest merchandise trading partner in the Latin American region.

The report pinpoints some areas that are very important for future focus. It refers to the complex set of practices and idiosyncratic cultural productions of drug trafficking, such as the adoption of Santa Muerte as a religious patron, and makes references to ‘barbaric violence’—such as the face-sewn-onto-a-football vignette—and other myth-making processes. The literature on violence and the drug culture in Mexico is burgeoning. The cultural production, iconography and performativity of drug trafficking are well-researched topics. It’s vital, therefore, that future policymaking efforts don’t fall to the temptation of trivialising those cultural productions, but seek a deep understanding of how drug trafficking has affected the lives of those who live in its vicinity.

In order to understand MOC, policymakers require frames of reference providing a solid depiction of the structure and genesis of cartels, gangs and so on. The report has a section on street gangs, but the analysis focuses on US-based Hispanic gangs, not Mexican (as in Mexico-based) street gangs. That may generate some confusion, since Hispanic gangs have a very different history, as Coyne rightly points out, from actual Mexican gangs. This is tied to immigration, diaspora dynamics and political-economic factors. Coyne also places US-based Mexican and Central American gangs in the same analytical category. They shouldn’t be, as a number of studies (for example, here and here) show. Moreover, the report focuses on the genesis of MS-13, which has marginal relations with the history, structure and operations of Mexican street gangs. MS-13 is a Central American gang with deep roots in the US, and even the Central American label is contested. Mexican cartels don’t engage with it consistently (MS-13 distributes their drugs at times), and there’s no strong evidence that it poses a significant threat beyond its communities. That points us to a key issue: the need to acknowledge and strive to understand the complexity and fundamental diversity that Latin American organised crime has, which will allow us to understand its capacities and, importantly, its limitations.

I agree with Coyne that MOC is a threat to Australia. His report makes an important contribution to raising awareness of this issue and underscores the fact that we require a deeper understanding of the phenomenon, as well as pointing to potential areas of future focus. Policymakers in Australia would be well advised to follow up on this.

What did Australia learn about drugs in 2015?

Stereosonic

Fighting the war on drugs has never been easy. But 2015 was a particularly brutal chapter in Australia’s illicit drugs history. The methamphetamine crisis and its countless headlines pushed the country into uncharted waters. Many types of illicit drugs, including some new ones, challenged the way we think about their influence and our responses to them. But Australia fought back. 2015 is over, but 2016 will call for further efforts on the part of Australian law enforcement so it’s time to better understand last year’s lessons on drugs—and there are seven major ones.

First, ice is a crisis for all levels of society to tackle. Record seizures and arrests for ice-related crime have had little effect on the use of the drug and its availability, which indicates that Australia can’t police its way out of the epidemic. The drug’s well-known and dangerous effects led the call for an integrated approach focused on harm minimisation. Former prime minister Tony Abbott established a National Ice Task Force in April to search for strategies to stop the rapid spread of lethal ice use in Australia. After months of consultations, Australia’s response to ice is shifting from policing to treatment. The taskforce found rehabilitation services have fallen short of demand and recommended governments invest more money in treatment and rehabilitation.

The second lesson is that there’s a bright side to marijuana. After September’s leadership spill, the Turnbull government began the process of legalising the growth of medicinal cannabis in October in a move many chronic disease-suffering patients believed to be overdue. The proposed changes to the Narcotics Drugs Act were passed, allowing cannabis to be grown for medicinal and scientific purposes. Christmas Island will be the first place where the Act will take shape, as AusCann will begin planting trial crops of marijuana on the detention centre island.

Third, in the words of Commissioner Andrew Colvin, much of what the AFP does is topical, controversial and puts it in the centre of the media cycle and public consciousness. Timely and effective police-to-police cooperation between the AFP and Indonesian counterparts during the Bali Nine investigations led to drug-related arrests and drug seizures, but surprisingly the AFP was criticised for disrupting the drug-trafficking network. Some suggested that the AFP had imported the death penalty into Australia. In May, following the execution of Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran, the AFP confirmed that it wasn’t in the position to arrest any of the members of the Bali Nine prior to their departure from Australia, when they were arrested in Indonesia. The execution of Chan and Sukumaran is a reminder for all Australians of the risks associated for those who travel overseas to participate in drug trafficking and other serious crimes.

The fourth important lesson is that Australia knows how to maximise resource dividends to disrupt drug importation. In October, Australia joined forces with Chinese police to investigate the smuggling of methamphetamine into Australia. The internationalisation of Australia’s ice market increases the importance of international cooperation efforts to stop the flow of drugs into the country. The disruption of offshore criminal networks often demands greater human and financial resources. But the Chinese–Australian joint task force set an example of timely and cost-effective police cooperation while using assets and personnel already in place in the region.

Fifth, ecstasy is becoming more lethal. The staggering number of people treated for drug overdoses—and the deaths of two teenagers at the Stereosonic music festivals last year—suggests that Australia is home to poor quality ecstasy. Although pure MDMA is perhaps the least dangerous illicit drug, the use of MDMA variants like PMA or PMMA are making the so-called recreational substance more dangerous. While the tragic deaths brought back the case for introducing pill testing at Aussie music festivals, different approaches have opted to advocate for making ecstasy legal and selling a regulated version at pharmacies.

Sixth, we’ve learnt that pharmaceutical opioids have much to do with the growth of the online illicit drug trade. The number of prescriptions for pharmaceutical opioids in Australia has soared, particularly prescriptions for oxycodone. But what has alarmed researchers is the growing trend to buy and sell those legal drugs online. Despite the closure of Silk Road two years ago, the number of drug dealers selling their wares online has increased by between 30–100%.

And finally, it turns out that Spanish-speaking police intelligence officers are strategic assets. The Sinaloa Cartel has been in the eyes of the Australian authorities for years, and to no one’s surprise when Joaquin ‘El Chapo’ Guzman escaped from prison in July (only to be captured again this month), Australia swiftly joined the ‘marathon’ manhunt. Latin American drug syndicates have expanded their networks in Asia—particularly in the Philippines, where Hispanic heritage and basic Spanish language skills help to build trust among criminals and facilitate the group’s incursion in the region. They have also increasingly targeted Australia as a destination point for all major drugs. Disrupting the expanding Latin American drug networks operating in the region will require more Spanish-speaking intelligence officers in the lines of the AFP.

2015 provided Australian authorities with a number of poignant lessons to combat illicit drugs. And it was indeed a tough year. This year, the United Nations General Assembly will have a Special Session (UNGASS) on the world’s drug problems, where leaders will ponder whether the global war on drugs approach has failed or not, as well as offering participants the chance to share their own experiences. Australia’s 2015 campaign against drugs will be one to remember, especially if learning from the past prepares the nation for the future.