Category Archives: History

Choosing the lesser evil.

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(With Kate Nicholls)

Presidential elections were held in Venezuela on July 28th, delivering an apparent victory for the Opposition headed by Edmundo Gonzalez of the Unitary Democratic Platform (PUD) but a declared victory for incumbent Nicolás Maduro of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV). Gonzales was the hand-picked successor to businesswoman Maria Corina Machado, who was banned from running for president in the build-up to the election and who remains the power behind the PUD throne. Nicolas Maduro is the heir of Hugo Chavez’s “Bolivarian” legacy, something that sparked a resurgence amongst Latin American leftist movements at the turn of the 21st century but which has lost its promise and backtracked into decline and decay in the decades since then.

The election was held in the context of widespread claims and considerable evidence of electoral intimidation and fraud, against a backdrop of various restrictions on civil and political liberties, so the legitimacy of the declared outcome has been questioned from within Venezuela as well as abroad. In fact, wide-spread violent protests have broken out since the results were announced, and the possibility of civil war cannot be discounted as more evidence emerges that the election may have in fact been stolen by Maduro and his supporters. It remains to be seen whether he will remain power or face a coup, a domestic civil uprising, an escalation in regional or foreign intervention, or some combination thereof.

As even a causal observer will note, Venezuelan society has become especially polarized since the rise of former coup-monger Hugo Chávez to power in the 1990s (Chavez led two attempted coups before finally gaining power via electoral means). This polarization is not limited to Venezuelan partisan politics. Its echoes are heard as far away as New Zealand and elsewhere. Progressive left voices in particular, on social media and the blogosphere, are supportive of Maduro’s win, reject claims of electoral intimidation and fraud as right-wing disinformation, and highlight the potential for United States involvement should any coup eventuate. This championing of the Chávez-Maduro Bolivarian regime by the left is not new: Chávez’s brand of nationalist-Indigenous populism (cast as indigenous socialism) and its resistance to United States influence in Latin America gained much international attention in the early 2000s and continues to be supported today. For much of the Left in NZ and elsewhere, then and now, the historical sins of the US far outweigh the current crimes of contemporary Left authoritarians, Maduro included. For their part, Western media outlets see Maduro as a tin-pot dictator hell-bent on holding power at all costs, continuing in a long line of bad Leftist henchmen that extends back to Castro, Lenin, Mao and Stalin.

This framing poses a dilemma for political scientists. The discipline tends to prioritise regime type over left-right politics. That is to say, the discipline’s ideological preference is for democracy over dictatorship rather than the policy content of either type of regime. This is an obvious normative bias, one that is readily defended due to the fact that, despite all its limitations and contemporary flaws, empirically democracy does a better job at protecting basic human rights than any other regime type. The balance on how this is achieved (say, between individual and collective rights and responsibilities and between economic freedom, opportunity and equality) then becomes the stuff of quantitative and qualitative positive (objective) micro-analytic analyses rather than normative macro-analytic preferences. That allows political scientists to distinguish between specific types of dictatorship and democracy based on organisational features, public policies and socio-economic outcomes, including variants such as military-bureaucratic versus populist authoritarianism or social versus liberal democracy (which is also why political scientists can get very pedantic when words like “fascist” and “communist” are thrown around as epithets by mindless pundits).

The current situation in Venezuela underscores this dilemma all too well: from a democratic standpoint there is no comfortable way to back a winner given the nature of both sides, and the true loser in the game is likely democracy as an regime type and an ideal. Let’s examine why.

First, the Bolivarian regime. What began as a model for the “Pink Tide” of electoral socialism in Latin America in the late 1990s has devolved into a left-leaning nationalist populist authoritarian kleptocracy characterised by nepotism, corruption and incompetence. An increasingly shaky cadre of state managers, military leaders and Nicolas Maduro loyalists have stripped the country’s coffers nearly bare while allowing critical infrastructure to decay, including in the all-important oil sector. As a result, health, education and welfare indicators (including basics such as provision of transportation and potable water)  have dropped precipitously while poverty, unemployment and crime rates have spiked (a general assessment is provided here). Inflation is running at 130,000 percent per year, rendering the Venezuelan Bolivar worthless as a token of financial exchange. 8 million Venezuelans have migrated abroad, and the Venezuelan State has been hollowed out by bureaucratic parasitism and partisan agency take-overs and patronage. The result is country that has seen its GDP drop a staggering 80 percent in the decade since Maduro succeeded Chavez, even with considerable financial and material support from sympathetic foreign partners such as Cuba, Iran, the PRC and Russia. Truth be told, the country is ruled by thieves posing as anti-imperialist revolutionaries. In this they resemble Daniel Ortega’s Nicaragua or Putin’s Russia more than post-Castro Cuba or Xi Jin-ping’s PRC. In short, the situation is dire. Under Maduro Venezuela has become a failed State.

The curse of Venezuela is that the PUD-led opposition is not a choirboy’s convention either. Besides the failed 2002 coup against Chavez and the 2018 drone attack against Maduro during a parade and its member’s history of dubious commitment to democratic practice (Gonzalez’s admirable personal traits as an academic and diplomat as well as his middle class roots notwithstanding), the current opposition has significant ties to Venezuelan ex-pats linked to rightwing Cuban and Nicaraguan exiles, who in turn have attracted the support of conservative groups in the US and other Latin American countries (some of which have connections to the military and oligarchical dictatorships of the 1980s and 1990s as well as contemporary political figures like Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil and Javier Millei in Argentina). Machado has been courted by and has extensive links to very conservative foreign actors, especially those in the US, for two decades. She also has direct social links to the pre-Boliviarian oligarchical past, as her parents were wealthy members of the old elite. For all of their talk of “democracy” and “freedom” and the gloss of respectability offered by Gonzalez, the unifying feature of the Venezuelan opposition led from behind by Machado is more about retribution and roll-back wrapped in a nostalgic vision of the pre-Boliviarian past and a desire to return the country to the old, albeit re-branded status quo. For all the public discontent about Maduro’s government, that is a non-starter.

For the PUD-led opposition the trouble is that, much like Cuba after the revolution, Venezuela is different for having undergone the Bolivarian experiment, especially when it comes to socio-economic and racial hierarchies. It therefore will not easily return to a past that was not always good for everyone. It is no longer the country of plastic surgery beauty queens, cheap petrol and affordable Scotch whisky for those who lived in the affluent Eastern Caracas foothill suburbs because if nothing else, economic and social decline and outward migration have made for a great leveller in Venezuelan society. In other words, the opposition yearns for a return to a political, social and economic status quo that no longer exists and which will be impossible to return to even if Maduro is forced from power. More importantly, a return to the pre-Bolivarian past is not only unrealistic, it is undesirable.

That is because Venezuela was no shining example of liberal democracy before the rise of Chávez. It is true, underpinned partly by the benefits of oil wealth, that it was one of the most stable polities in Latin America for much of the late twentieth century. The country did not experience the same pattern of populist authoritarianism and military rule that occurred in countries such as Chile, Brazil, or Argentina, or the kind of guerilla and para-military led violence that occurred in neighbouring Colombia or in Central America. Instead, the election-based two party-dominant regime that ruled Venezuela from 1958 until the late 1990s was what comparative politics specialists refer to as a limited, oligarchical or restricted democracy. The spoils of oil wealth and benefits of close ties with the United States were shared between two elite-backed political parties that allowed for relatively free elections, rotation in government office and key interest group cooptation via material incentives for favoured organisations. But that arrangement purposely left little room for truly leftist or authentic working class representation, thereby overseeing and perpetuating deep-seated socio-economic inequalities. Cheap fuel and commodity imports subsidized by taxes on primary (mostly petroleum) exports served as the opiate of the masses that maintained social peace. But as years passed after the 1958 tripartite agreement that founded the modern Venezuelan Republic (the Pact de Punto Fijo), the elite compact eventually turned into an increasingly distant and corrupt political duopoly unresponsive to popular demands for change, leading to outbreaks of protest and even episodic guerrilla violence.

Attuned to this discontent, Army officer Hugo Chavez led abortive “colonel’s coups” in the 1990s that paved the way for his eventually successful run for the presidency in 1999. His campaign was staunchly anti-elitist, anti-imperialist and redistributionist, with major state agencies expanded or granted control over previously private agencies. That contributed to the rise of the indigenous-socialist movement that came to be known as Bolivarianism and which continued after the eventual transfer of power from Chavez to Maduro (Chavez’s vice-president and former union leader) upon the former’s death in 2014. The trouble is that Chavez and his Bolivarian cohorts’ managerial skills did not match their ideological ambitions, and after much public spending at home and abroad–something that did lift basic domestic socioeconomic indicators and forged international solidarity links with foreign anti-Western regimes for the first ten years of the Bolivarian experiment–the wheels began to come off the Venezuelan cart. Graft crept into the public sector while investment declined and public spending continued unchecked even as it was increasingly untethered from hard currency earnings. The Boliviarians began to emulate their predecessors when it came to bourgeois lifestyles, the main difference being that they preferred to wear khakis and red berets rather than Liki likis, guayaberas and flowered polleras.

Occasional observers of Latin American politics tend to blame much of the region’s history of political instability, especially when it comes to worldwide attention-grabbing events such as military coups or foreign interference, especially on the part of the United States. While it is historically undeniable that the United States has supported various dictators in their rise to power, and withdrawn support when this no longer seems of benefit or, in true neo-colonial fashion, opposed revolutionary movements wherever they arose, other factors including political polarisation, democratic backsliding, bureaucratic corruption and military intervention cannot solely be explained by external factors. Domestic forces of one kind or another always play a role: from the problems of policy deadlock associated with forms of government that combine presidentialism with multi-party legislatures, to the failure to instil cultures of accountability and transparency in private and public institutions, to deeply ingrained social and racial hierarchies underpinned by institutional legacies, to historical patterns of land ownership and other forms of commercial exchange, and more. 

That said, foreign involvement, if not outright intervention, is already an element in the politics surrounding the Venezuelan presidential election. Cuba has sent para-military advisors to bolster the Maduro regime by helping organise the violent “colectivos” of armed young men intimidating election workers and demonstrators.These are modelled on the Cuban “turbas divinas” mobs that emerge as counters to episodic protests on the island. Hezbollah (and Iran) has had a decades-long presence in Bolivarian Venezuela, providing a criminal-ideological nexus that triangulates weapons, drugs and money smuggling activities that extend from the Levant to the Tri-border region of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay and which launder criminal as well as ideological assets under the protection of the Bolivarian State. More recently, Wagner Group mercenaries have appeared as part of Maduro’s personal guard, essentially playing the role of foreign praetorians for the besieged leader. It is a sign of his insecurity and lack of trust in his own forces that he now depends on the protection of these Russian proxies.

But the Opposition is in no real position to remove Maduro on is own even if it has the material, political and logistical support of foreign agencies. Hence, given the disarray in post-election civilian politics, and the inability of the PUD to dislodge the Maduro regime by weight of popular sentiment (and votes), it will be left to the Venezuelan military to ultimately determine the outcome of the current crisis. However, the Venezuelan military is not monolithic and is rendered by cronyism and corruption. Guarantees will have to be made and assurances given if military support for regime change is to occur (which will likely involve immunity from prosecution for graft and other acts of official malfeasance). Otherwise, the default option is to repress, which remains as a default because it is highly unlikely that any external forces (including the US) will overtly intervene in the event Maduro’s forces dig in and crack down on dissent. That sets the stage for more covert forms of subterfuge and grey area machinations, which will only prolong the impasse even if in somewhat sublimated fashion. And we can rest assured that these covert options are already being explored by various interested parties.

Whatever the eventual outcome, it will involve foreign actors supporting each side as well as soft-and hardliners in the PUD and PSUV ranks. In that light Maduro is at best just one rock in the road to a peaceful transition. At worst, he is now a pawn in a larger game that is beyond his control. In that light it is others with skin in the game that now matter most, and that includes the armed forces and foreign actors aligned on opposing sides of the Venezuelan political divide.

In terms of potential transition scenarios, the best that can be hoped for is the formation of a unity government made up of moderate elements of the outgoing regime and Opposition who commit to a military or perhaps internationally-overseen transition project leading to “restorative” elections down the road. The transition would focus on erecting an acceptable framework for political contestation while revitalising critical infrastructure, attracting investment and cushioning the dislocating effects of the economic crisis via promulgation of foreign aid-supported safety net programs for the most disadvantaged. All of that means that a variety of foreign interlocutors will need to be engaged on multiple policy fronts, starting with the political negotiations over procedures and paths forward and then moving onto substantive discussions about economic and social recovery planning. The Organisation of American States (OAS) may prove helpful in this regard even if its criticism of the Maduro regime has seen its representation at the election curtailed and stonewalled.

Returning to the political science angle, one way to envision the process is as a type of stylised multi-actor “game” in which the objective is to restore an open democracy to Venezuela. Any peaceful transition scenario to this end assumes that longer-sighted moderates will dominate negotiations on both sides of the domestic crisis and that their respective foreign backers will support such moderation over hard-line entrenchment and ongoing confrontation. That is a very big ask given the deep animosities extant between the adversaries. Again, the Venezuelan military will become a major focus of pressure from all sides, and it will ultimately be them who give the nod one way or the other. That is because the Venezuelan armed forces have one thing that no other stakeholder has: veto power over what is agreed to.

In a sense, the Venezuelan transition “game” boils down to a choice of lesser evil. That is true for Venezuelan society as a whole but especially true for the military as veto welders over the entire post-election process. Does the military choose the evil that it knows and which feeds it while continuing as the defenders of a failed State propped by like-minded foreign authoritarians, or does it take a step into the unknown and go with a side that has very patchy democratic credentials, very dubious foreign rightwing connections, but which is popular and represents the possibility of national recovery and renewal? Is continuity or change the better option, both for the military as an institution and for the nation as a whole?

Which is to say that there is much yet to happen before the Venezuelan crisis is resolved, peacefully or not. Or in antiseptic political science terms, the transitional “game” has moved from iterative (outcomes do not change with each successive play) to extensive-form in nature (outcomes change with each play), with the ultimate “foundational” conclusion leading to the next Venezuelan regime being uncertain and not necessarily Pareto (both sides advance their interests without hurting the other, leading to mutual second-best outcomes), much less Nash-optimal (both sides achieve preferred goals) for all concerned. That is to say, negotiations between and within the competing political blocs are not so much about immediate choices and outcomes but about setting the terms and conditions for an eventual resolution to the political impasse on terms that may not be the preferred result for anyone but which are mutually acceptable given the circumstances. It could even be a Pacto de Punto Fijo 2.0 moment, one that could be considered as a historical referent for current negotiations. It may seem like over-intellectualised gibberish to phrase things this way, but there is a core truth in this parsing of words that the principals involved may want to heed.

About boot camps.

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I am not a criminologist or organisational sociologist, so I cannot offer a data-driven opinion on the effectiveness of military-syle so-called ‘boot camps” when it comes to rehabilitating juvenile delinquents and youth offenders. They are popular in the US and other cultures where a premium is placed on using institutionalised discipline and punishment in order to enforce compliance with social norms, even at an early age (needless to say, Michel Foucault has much to say on this subject-he has a book on the subject–so I shall refer readers to his work). Now they have been resurrected in NZ by the ruling coalition, with the first ten inmates–all considered to be “serious youth offenders” convicted of at least two major crimes–scheduled to begin their 12 month rehabilitation trial starting early next week. It will be interesting to see how that works out for them.

I must admit to being unfamiliar with the specifics of the program that is about to be trialed, so am happy to be educated about it. I should also note that the NZDF declined to participate in the program, so whatever it is modelled on may not reflect current NZDF “boot camp” practices. Perhaps it is modeled on foreign juvenile delinquent “boot camp” programs and/or staffed by ex-NZDF or NZ police or a private security company that has expertise in such matters. Again, I am all ears on the who/what/how of the project (since it is just a trial according to the government). But for the moment and whatever the relative merits, I find the whole concept of using boot camps as models for rehabilitating miscreants somewhat perplexing.

Allow me to explain why.

“Boot camp” is a euphemism for military basic training. In basic training, which lasts approximately six weeks in most countries, followed by assignment to other military units, civilian recruits are isolated from civil society and psychologically “broken down” in order to install in them new military values and technical skills. The emphasis is reducing the individual’s notion of “self” and subordinating it to the notion of “service” via the harsh inculcation of rote obedience to authority, reflexive adherence to orders and submission of the ego to the collective good of a larger whole that is united by its common training in the skills of armed combat, i.e., the military unit. The purpose of this is to turn former civilians, with all of their notions of individuality, community and the fluid relationship between them, into soldiers, that is, a cohesive group of anonymous members of a larger hierarchical entity (the armed forces) dedicated via specialised training and political purpose to destroying designated enemies of the State.

Put bluntly, boot camps turn civilian recruits into sociopathic killing machines aimed at State-designated enemies in which their psychological reorientation and education in the techniques and instruments of organised murder serve the interests of the State and the society from which they came and which the State purports to defend. Loyalty is to the in-group above all else (hence the saying that soldiers fight for each other and have “espirit d’corps”), and their collective murderous intent is fixated on designated ‘others” by the powers that be, as expressed by the military chain of command.

One might say that if anything basic training boot camps are exercises in learning the ultimate form of mass anti-social behaviour (collective violence), but with organised features and specific targets. They are anything but rehabilitative in orientation.They simply replace the “looseness” of civilian life with the discipline and technical skills required to kill and be killed in battle.

In fact, when soldiers near the end of the service careers they are put through re-orientation programs designed to prepare them for the return to civilian life. These involve de-programming soldiers of most of what was learned in basic training boot camps and re-programming them with a more social-oriented ethos conducive to their better reintegration into civil society. In other words, they are taught to unlearn the sociopathic traits learned in boot camps in order to become contributing members of society.

It therefore strikes me as odd that anyone would think that it is a good idea to give youth offenders boot camp-style training. It seems that–not to be frivolous about the issue–it would only make them better (more disciplined, organised and prepared) criminals down the road. On the other hand, if the emphasis is on the non-sociopathic aspects of basic training–service to a higher good, sense of shared community, adherence to universal norms and values, subsuming of self to society, etc.–then perhaps the “tough love” approach might work, especially if it emphasises the re-integration aspects of military end of service separation programs.

But if the emphasis is on scary drill sergeants barking orders and enforcing physical compliance, 5AM wake-up calls and 8PM lights out rules, cold showers, detention mandates, forced schooling routines, hard physical exercise and endless drills and chores interrupted by short meal breaks, then it seems that is as much about punishment as it is about discipline and consequently not conducive to the individual’s comfortable transition into being a contributing member of the community (unless one believes that punishment itself is a form of rehabilitation. That appears to be the view of those responsible for the abuse in care atrocities recently detailed in a Royal Commission Report on the treatment of minors under state care in postwar NZ. Let’s just say that when it came to rehabilitation and social reintegration of the abused children, the results were not positive, so the irony of introducing the boot camp scheme shortly after the Royal Commission’s Report should not be lost on anyone).

In any event, the emphasis on military basic training as a model for young criminal rehabilitation seems suspect given the nature of military basic training. Perhaps the emphasis should be on offering a strong hand that helps and a firm shoulder on which to lean rather than on using the boot.

Still the 5 Eyes Achilles Heel?

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The National Cyber Security Centre (NZSC), a unit in the Government Communications Security Bureau (GCSB) dedicated to cyber-security, has released a Review of its response to the 2021 email hacking of NZ members of the Inter-Parliamentary Alliance on China (IPAC, a global organization of parliamentarians) and Professor Anne-Marie Brady, the well known China expert and critic. A number of problems were identified, both operational and (yet again) with regard to accountability and transparency, so I thought I would briefly summarise them.

The Review states that too much focus was placed by the NCSC on “technical” solutions to the email phishing probes instead of considering the “wider” context in which the hacking occurred. In layman’s terms that is akin to saying that the NCSC got busy plugging holes in the parliamentary server firewalls after breaches were detected without considering who was being targeted and what purpose the hacking may have served. This is remarkable because the hacking came from ATP-31, a unit linked to PRC military intelligence well known for having engaged in that sort of activity previously, in NZ and elsewhere. Moreover, the NCSC had to be alerted by a foreign partner that the email phishing efforts were part of a progressive hacking strategy whereby the ultimate target was not the emails of MPs but of the IP addresses that were being used by those MPs. In fact, the NCSC currently does not have procedures for how to respond to reports that foreign, including state-sponsored, actors are targeting New Zealanders. The NCSC found out about the parliamentary email servers hacking from Parliamentary Services in the first instance, and then from foreign partner intelligence that was passed on to it by the NZSIS.

This is of concern for several reasons, not the least of which is that it took a foreign 5 Eyes partner to alert the NCSC to something that it should have been well aware of itself (progressive hacking), and because the NCSC initially assumed, for whatever reason, that the phishing was done by ordinary criminals rather than foreign intelligence units. It also assumed that MPs were already engaged in providing their own security, even after Parliamentary Services flagged potential breaches of its email servers to the NCSC. In fact MPs were apparently told more by Parliamentary Services than the NCSC about their being targeted (albeit after the fact), and the University of Canterbury, Professor Brady’s employer, apparently was never contacted about potential security breaches of their servers.

Since MPs may have sent and received emails from multiple IP addresses attached to their official and personal devices, the security breach implications of the email hacks could be considerable given the potential cross-over between personal and official MP communications. Put bluntly, it is incredible that a dedicated cyber-security unit that is an integral part of the GCSB and through it the Anglophone 5 Eyes signals/technical intelligence network did not consider the membership of the targeted MPs in IPAC and that the phishing occurred at the same time that Professor Brady’s emails were targeted (Brady is known to have close contacts with IPAC). This is basic 1+1 contextual stuff when it comes to operational security in cyberspace, so one gets the sense that the NCSC is made up of computer nerds who have little training in geopolitics, foreign policy, international relations or how the world works outside of WAN and LAN (hint: these are basic computer terms). They simply approached the hacking attacks as if they were plugging a leaking dike rather than consider what may be prompting the leaks and red-flagging them accordingly.

The advice given by the Review was for the NCSC to engage more with the targeted individuals in real time, who only found out about their exposure long after the fact. Moreover, the Minister of Intelligence and Security was not briefed on these intrusions, much like the targeted MPs and Professor Brady were not. Again, this defies the notion of democratic oversight, transparency and accountability within NZ intelligence agencies. Worse yet, it follows on the heels of revelations that for a few years a decade ago the GCSB hosted a foreign partner “asset,” presumably a signals or technical intelligence collection platform, at GCSB headquarters in Wellington without the knowledge of the then Minister or even the GCSB Director-General. Operational control of that platform, including specific taskings and targets, were done by the foreign partner. Imagine if one of the taskings was to geotrack a foreign human target in order to eliminate that target. If word was leaked about GCSB’s hosting of the tracking platform, it might cause some diplomatic tensions for NZ. At a minimum it is a violation of both NZ’s sovereignty as well as basic notions of intelligence agency accountability in a democracy. It seems that, almost a decade later, the much vaunted reforms designed to increase intelligence community accountability embedded the 2017 Security and Intelligence Act had not filtered down to the NCSC dike-plugging level.

This is a very bad look for the GCSB, both in the eyes of its domestic clients as well as those of its 5 Eyes partners. NZ already had a reputation for being the “Achilles heel” or “weak link” of the 5 Eyes network due to its lax security protocols and counter-intelligence capabilities. This may only confirm that belief in spite fo significant efforts to upgrade GCSB capabilities and toughen up its defences, including in cyberspace. And, judging from the reactions of the targeted MPs and Professor Brady, domestic clients of the NCSC, who are both private and public in nature, may not feel too reassured by the Review and its recommendations.

It is known that the GCSB is made up of an assortment of engineers, translators and computing specialists. It has a remit that includes domestic as well as foreign signals and technical gathering and analysis, the former operating under the framework of NZ law under the 2017 Act (most often in a partnership with a domestic security agency).This brings up a question of note. If the staff are all of a “technical” persuasion as described above, then it follows that they simply adhere to directives from their managers and foreign partners, collect and assess signals and technical intelligence data as directed by others, and do not have an in-house capacity to provide geopolitical context to the data being analyzed. It is like plugging leaks without knowing about the hydraulics causing them.

In that light it just might do good to incorporate a few foreign policy and comparative political analysts into the GCSB/NCSC mix given that most of NZ’s threat environment is not only “intermestic” (domestic<–>international) but “glocal” (global and local) as well as hybrid (involving state and non-state actors) in nature. Threats are multidimensional and complex, so after the fact “plugging” solutions are temporary at best.

Given their diversity, complexity and sophistication, there are no “technical” solutions that can counter contemporary threats alone. Factoring in the broader context in which specific threats materialise will require broadening the knowledge base of those charged with defending against them or at a minimum better coordinating with other elements in the NZ intelligence community in order to get a better look at the bigger picture involved in NZ’s threat environment.

The NCSC in-house Review is silent on that.

Voting as a multi-order process of choice.

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Recent elections around the world got me to thinking about voting. At a broad level, voting involves processes and choices. Embedded in both are the logics that go into “sincere” versus “tactical” voting. “Sincere” voting is usually a matter of preferred choice, specifically of a candidate or outcome. Simply put, a person votes for their preferred option. But what about “lesser evil” or “second best” choices? Are they “sincere”? Rather than a matter of genuine sincerity of choice, the general demarcation separating “sincere” voting from “tactical” voting is not so much the motive for choice or the specific choices involved but the all or nothing of the process–it is the final selection point before an elected entity or outcome is confirmed. In other words, sincere choices are end choices, regardless of the logics by which they are made.

This allows us to distinguish between elections as a process versus elections as choices between options. Until the last vote is counted in the final round of voting, everything is tactical even if choices for individuals are sincere in the moment.

Under Mixed Member Proportionate (MMP) electoral systems like that in NZ voters do tactical voting all of the time. They consider the relationship between party and candidate votes and choose accordingly. Sometimes voters go with a straight party-candidate vote but other times they split votes between party and candidates. That depends on how they view specific party chances in inter-party competition, the electorate candidate in relation to their party, that candidate in relation to the electorate voting history (does she stand a chance?), and the merits of other candidates in a given electorate. Much of this assessment is done unconsciously in the moment of choice but in any event the voter’s calculation is multi-level and relative in nature.

A vote is tactical when we vote for a candidate or party or coalition or ballot option with the shadow of the future in mind, as far as we can foresee it. We may do so for defensive as well as win-seeking reasons, like what happened in France this past week, where the Left removed competing candidates in a number of electorates in order to improve the chances of designated “unity” candidates defeating rightwing opponents in the second round of parliamentary elections. That was done in order to help defeat the serious possibility of a rightwing victory in the second round parliamentary elections after the first round saw the Right win a significant plurality of the vote. The tactic of limiting inter-Left competition was defensive in nature rather than a “go for the win” effort because all involved understood the costs of allowing a rightwing victory and put their immediate preferences (and differences) aside in order to confront the common threat.

When it comes to tactical voting people may also vote for lesser evils rather than preferred options because the context in which voting occurs may advise them to do so. Voters may simply have to choose between otherwise distasteful candidates or options. In multiple round voting it is the process as much as the immediate outcomes that motivate voters in the first instance, as they are seeking to do something now in order to set up a better sincere choice option in the future. Think of the US primary system, where party candidates are selected not just for their merits but also with an eye towards their “electability” in the general elections. A candidate with lesser ideological purity or Party credentials may win in the selection round because primary voters feel that s/he is more likely to be elected in a general election where sincere choices are made.

On the other side of the coin, as a campaign strategy, what Labour recently did in the UK when it flooded electorates with candidates, even in Tory strongholds where it traditionally had zero chance of competing, was a “throw it at the wall and see what sticks” first-order approach. Labour put up slates of candidates who in many cases have little to no experience in politics and who were in a number of instances sent as electoral cannon fodder into historically secure Conservative electorates. Labour strategists banked on the belief that public disgruntlement with the Conservatives would spill over into Labour winning at least some traditionally Tory seats, and in that they were successful. But this was just the first order outcome. The second order outcome is how these candidates-turned-MPs will perform given their lack of experience. Some will do well but if enough turn out to be incompetent or worse, then Labour runs the risk of incurring a voter backlash against it in just one electoral cycle. That is the second-order problem of the “throw at the wall” candidate selection tactic: good for the short-run, but a bit uncertain over the longer term.

For his part, French President Macron has ruled out working with the largest of the Left parties (“France Unbowed”) in the coalition that came first in the second round of the French parliamentary elections thanks to the defensive unity candidate first order manoeuvres, so is now trying to carve away smaller Left parties from the Left coalition so they can form a majority coalition with his Centrists. He apparently has promised the Prime Minister’s job to a Left candidate if they agree to his terms (in France the president selects the PM). But if he cannot do this, then France will be in political gridlock through and beyond the Olympics. So his first order tactical gambit of calling snap elections and forming a defensive alliance against the Rightists worked, but now the second order consequences embedded in the process must be confronted and resolved less the otherwise unwelcome triumph of the Right become reality.

In Iran the reformist Pezeshkian won the run-off election against a conservative hard-liner. The latter could be seen as a “continuist” following the approach of his dead predecessor (recently killed in a helicopter crash), whereas Pezeshkian seeks a thaw in Iran’s foreign relations with the West and a relaxation of restrictions on social freedoms at home. But since the Council of Elders and the Ayatollah Khamenei are the real power brokers in Iran, perhaps they allowed Pezeshkian to run (they did not allow any other reformist to do so) in order to gauge public sentiment and/or use the elections as an escape value that eases social pressures on the regime by allowing the electorate to institutionally vent its views. Think of it as an Iranian political pressure cooker, with the electorate permitted to let off pent-up steam during the election process.

The first round of that vote only brought 40 percent of the electorate to the polls, but the second round brought in 53 percent. Beyond the narrowing of the field of candidates in the second round, the turnout and strong majority vote for Pezeshkian demonstrates the apparent need for some reform-mongering when it comes to policy making. This is a strong signal that the Elders must consider if they are to keep a lid on things. They have been sent a message about what the public wants in public policy, especially (judging from field reports) about social mores and behaviours. But what about the hard-liners? They have the guns, are not going away and are ill-disposed towards Pezeshkian’s proposals.. So the second order question is to reform monger or not and if so, how much is too much? Again, it is a process, and the choice of Pezeshkian is a first-order means towards a perhaps necessary but uncertain end.

In the US the Biden question is not only should he stay or should he go, but also how and when? Sooner or later? At the convention or before? Does he designate an heir if he goes (presumably Vice President Harris) or does he throw it open to a short-list of previously vetted candidates? The James Carville opinion piece in the New York Times was an interesting proposition, with its geographically organized Town Halls acting as an extended job interview process for designated candidates. And the George Clooney op-ed in the same newspaper pretty much spells out why Biden has moved from being an asset to a liability for the Democrats. Here too there is a process as well as the individual to consider, something that must converge into an electable platform that can defeat Trump. So the first order choice is about Biden staying or going, the second order choice is about when and how to replace him and the third order choice is about the agenda and team needed to defeat Trump. With those three parts of the process resolved, a sincere choice can be presented to the electorate in November.

This is about more than Joe Biden. In a democracy people serve their party in the first instance, the party serves the country in the second instance and the country serves the nation in the last instance (“country” being a political entity with territorial boundaries codified in the notion of “State” and “nation” being a political society or culture legally represented by a country). For the Democrats the issue is not just about choice of a presidential candidate in light of Biden’s perceived limitations (age, fragility, cognitive decline), but about the institutional process by which their candidate choice is made. The process is time-sensitive given the upcoming Election date, so the choices must be soon and facilitated by the institutional process. It remains to be seen if Biden and other Democrats fully understand the difference between his fortunes and those of the party–and the country itself, but if they do, then the process of candidate selection is as important as the candidates themselves.

Again, I am no voting behaviour expert (too much bean-counting and tea leaf-reading for me), so please take this very incomplete and shallow sketch as a a preliminary rumination about choice and process in voting. I will leave for another day discussion of certain hard realities about voting in practice–things like voter suppression, gerrymandering, redistricting, incumbent advantage, campaign finance laws and loopholes, polling, etc.–as well as the use of game theoretic and AI models as predictive tools in voting analysis. That is best left to those who focus on such things. But having said that I do think that recent elections offer an opportunity to ponder the process as well as the choices that democratic elections involve. Hence this note.

Author’s Postscript: This essay serves as the basis of my remarks for the “A View from Afar” podcast of July 14, 2024.

Media Link: Post-pandemic economics and the rise of national populism” on “A View from Afar.”

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On this edition of AVFA Selwyn Manning and I discuss post-pandemic economics and the rise of national populism. It seems that a post-pandemic turn to more nationalist economic policies may have encouraged the rise of populists who use xenophobia and bigotry as a partisan tool by adding non-economic fear-mongering and scapegoating to the necessity of shifting to more inwards-looking structural reform. You can find the show here.

Differentiating between democracy and republic.

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Although NZ readers may not be that interested in the subject and in lieu of US Fathers Day missives (not celebrated in NZ), I thought I would lay out some brief thoughts on a political subject being debated in the US. It seems crazy but there seems to be some confusion on what a the terms “democracy” and “republic” mean.

There are (MAGA) right-wingers and conservative media commentators who claim that the US is a Republic, not a Democracy. They are either cynical or ignorant. The two are not antithetical. Democracy is a means of giving political voice, selecting political representatives and granting social (and often economic) equality. It comes from the Latin word “demos,” or polity.

Republics (from the Latin res publica) are a type of political governance where, unlike monarchies or other forms of oligarchical rule, leadership purportedly derives from or is delegated by the sovereign will of the people (which may/may not be voiced democratically). There are democratic republics and there are authoritarian republics, so the two terms–democracy and republic–while having different specific meanings, may or may not be overlapped when it comes to a given political framework.

In fact, as the old saying goes, any country with “democratic” in its name is likely not regardless of whether it has “Republic” in its title. For example, the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea (DPRK) is anything but. The Peoples Republic of China (PRC) holds elections (in the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)), but is certainly not democratic in the liberal (universal, free, fair and transparent elections) sense of the term. Argentina under its dictatorships remained a “Republica Federal.” In fact, Republics can be federal in nature, where political administration is decentralized and broken into constituent parts such as US or Brazilian states, or unitary in nature, where the central government has administrative jurisdiction over the entire country (as in NZ). In neither case does this necessarily involve democracy as a concept or practice. It is simply a type of governmental administration within given territorial limits, to which different types of political voice, representation and accountability are attached.

Again, democracy is about political expression and social equality; republic is about political organisation. The US was founded and has been broadened via much struggle and conflict as a democratic republic (first for some, eventually for all). The process involved two parallel processes that were not always congruent or synchronised, which consequently has led to repeated conflict (think Civil War and the Civil Rights movement). In fact, the broadening of “democratic” rights within the US over the years has produced backlash from small and large-R “republicans” who believe that the awarding of rights to previously marginalised groups and non-citizens somehow infringes on their existing rights (which assumes that “rights” are an indivisible pie where awarding some to one group means that other groups will lose their fair or previously allotted share). This has extended into discussions of “states rights” versus those accorded by US federal law, where advocates of the Republic versus Democracy designation argue against democracy because it interferes with State’s autonomy over their internal (political, economic and social) affairs. In this view, a US Republic leaves the issue of individual and collective rights to be decided by States under their own self-made laws. Democracy removes that prerogative by federal fiat, subjugating states to the dictates of a federal overseers (who in turn are seen as pawns or tools of nefarious elites). This view is deeply flawed, if not dishonest.

The “states versus feds” debate has been rehashed endlessly and largely settled as a matter of US constitutional law. Despite ongoing efforts by groups like the Federalist Society to redefine the relationship between the central government and states, it has never really been framed as a “Republic versus Democracy” issue. But in the hands of malevolent or ignorant actors, this adversarial distinction contributes to the false dichotomy between and binary juxtaposition of the two different but often compatible terms.

It would be a pity if the narrative that democracy is antithetical to being a republic begins to take larger hold in the US in the lead-up to the November elections. Perhaps some of those who espouse such a view really would prefer that the US become an authoritarian republic. But what the very presence of such views does show is that when it comes to fundamental concepts underpinning the US political order, there sure are a lot of misinformed if not downright stupid people out there–and plenty of others who wish to exploit their ignorance for myopic partisan gain.

Media Link: AVFA on post-colonial blowback.

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Selwyn Manning and I discuss varieties of post colonial blowback and the implications its has for the rise of the Global South. Counties discussed include Palestine/Israel, France/New Caledonia, England/India, apartheid/post-apartheid South Africa and post-colonial New Zealand. It is a bit of a ramble but it raises some infrequently discussed points. You can find the episode here.

Te Pati Loco?

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Normally I would not write about Maori issues. I may have been living in NZ for over 25 years but I do not feel that it is my place to opine because I am not an expert on Maori history and politics and do not speak Te Reo (because as anyone who seriously studies comparative politics will attest, foreign language proficiency is a bottom line requirement for scholarship in the field unless you only study countries and cultures that speak your mother tongue). Hence in the past I deferred to Lew to write about Maori issues here at KP, but since he has departed there is no one left to do so.

However, in light of the recent carkoi and protests organised by Te Pati Maori (TPM) in response to the Coalition of Cruelty’s budget, I thought I would touch briefly on a matter of Te Pati Maori praxis. I was dragged into the debate about the protests when I noted on social media that the use of the term “strike” to characterise the direct action was done in error or for dramatic effect since “strike” is codified in employment law as a collective withholding of labour services by employees from employers in the context of workplace disputes. If the labour service withdrawal is called by collective agents and follows the procedures for engaging in such action (giving notice, etc.) then it is a strike “proper.” if it is done by individuals or groups of workers without collective authorization, then it is a “wildcat” strike that may be deemed unlawful by employment courts. A general strike is a labour service withdrawal across economic sectors done for economic and/or political purposes, which is difficult because it requires unity of purpose and action by employees working in different productive areas, which in turn requires agreement between union agents and agent/principal agreement in every union on the action. That is a big ask.

Taking a day off from work to go to a protest, be it by using paid, unpaid or medical leave or no leave at all is not a strike no matter what one calls it. Workers assume the employment risks associated with such actions. Employers can weigh their responses according to the law and their relationship with employees. That could even include giving people the day off or paying them overtime to stay on the job, among other options. Again, the nature of the relationship between boss and worker outside of the legal framework can influence an employer’s response for better or worse.

I figured that since I have written two books and a dozen or so scholarly articles about comparative labour relations, including the subject of strikes and State responses to working class collective action, that my neutral if pedantic observation about the proper use of the term “strike” would be as unremarkable as it was incontrovertible. I was wrong.

To be sure, the use of the term “strike” in the Te Pati Maori protest literature, which explicitly references it as a display of Maori economic power, lent itself to the view that Maori were going on strike. As such, right-wingers seized on the term to call for employer retaliation against those who joined the protests. There was much agitation on the Right about violations of contract (individual or collective) and the penalties that should be levied. The PM weighed in with the comment that workers should be careful about striking and that strikes should be done on weekends because that way they would not be as disruptive.

Besides the fact that a PM should know the difference between a strike and a protest (rather than cynically feed into the “strike” narrative), it is pretty rich for him to suggest that strikes are best done on weekends. As I said on social media, by that logic we should take our holidays on weekends as well. The whole point of strikes, protests, demonstrations and other types of direct action is precisely to be disruptive of the status quo as given in defence of a cause or to air grievances. A protest without disruption is like an army without a fight, full of rebels with causes but no stomach for consequences. Protests and strikes are about assuming collective and individual risk. The risk may be large or small depending on circumstance, but in one way or another it hangs over acts of “unauthorised” direct action in most every instance.

Having said all of that, I understand the call to strike in the Te Pati Maori literature as using the original sense of the term, which means “to deliver a blow.” The protest was organised as a symbolic blow against the reactionary anti-Maori thrust of the Coalition of Cruelty’s policies. It was not about Maori labour service withdrawals per se.

For my troubles in clarifying what is and what is not a strike and how the term was misused in the call to action by both supporters and opponents of the protests, I was called condescending, paternalistic, pompous, a lightweight, and best of all, a “racist c**t,” the latter by a lady who surely must kiss her mum and perhaps children with that mouth. As I wrote to her, she must be fun to be around.

All of that aside, I then got the pleasure of watching Te Pati Maori leaders speak in and outside of Parliament on the subject of the protest and much more. Although Ms.Ngarwera-Packer presented her views coolly, her counterpart Mr. Waititi was at his bombastic, hyperbolic best, taking the tradition of Marae oratory to a level that even that tax-funded weiner-tugger Shane Jones cannot match. He threw out gems such as “if Maori are 60 percent of the prison population then (we) deserve 60 percent of the Corrections budget,” a feat of logic so extraordinary that it would be akin to saying that NZ should pay the PRC, Russia and rightwing extremists most of the intelligence budget because they are the ones being spied on. To be frank, I have always found Mr. Waititi to be a bit of a buffoon and charlatan, but then again, that is probably the old Pakeha racist codger in me doing the assessment (I have been characterised as such before).

Which is why I paused to reflect on my reaction to his rants. Others have already noted the hypocrisy of TPM being funded by taxpayers and gaining prominence via “Pakeha” procedures and institutions. They have noted with alarm the seditious rhetoric of Mr. Waititi’s wife, the daughter of none other than that paragon of indigenous resistance, John Tamihere (although Mr. Tamihere’s management of the Waiparera Trust, for whatever its faults, was first rate during the pandemic and is widely respect in the West Auckland community). Now the TPM is calling for a separate Maori parliament, presumably to run in parallel to the “Pakeha” parliament and be equal to it. I am not sure how it will be funded and what outcomes it hopes to achieve, but it provides some food for thought about political alternatives even if it has a snowball’s chance in hell of materialising while the current government is in power.

The proposal is interesting in part because one of the features of a Mixed Member Proportional (MMP) democratic system like that in NZ is that it allows small, narrow-focused or single issue parties to get elected and press their interests within parliament, using coalition-building and vote-trading as a means of doing so. The ACT and Green Parties started out this way and have now widened their political appeals beyond their original core policy platforms. Whether that is for better or worse is for others to decide, but the general thrust for both of them was to start narrow and then widen their platforms via the incorporation of other agenda items and constituencies. ACT has gone with the gun rights crowd, incels and racists; the Greens have gone with identity issues, animal rights and rainbows. Both have had success by doing so. NZ First has done something a bit different, using malleable nationalist populism as a vehicle for Winston Peter’s political aspirations. To his original xenophobia and self-loathing Maori appeal (to blue rinse Pakehas), he has now added anti-vaccination conspiracy weirdness and slavish “anti-woke” corporate bootlicking to the party repertoire. Like the broadening shifts undergone by ACT and the Greens, it has served his party well and allowed it and ACT to become the tail-wagging rump ends of the Coalition of Cruelty dog.

Te Pati Maori is a different kettle of fish. Gone are the days of Pita Sharples and Tariana Turia, who tried to play the centrist–some might say assimilationist–parliamentary game.They supported both Labour and National-led governments while confining themselves to practical pursuit of “reasonable” goals, that is, objectives that could be achieved by and within the system as given. Truth be told, the Maori Party record was mixed at best, but one thing that did come out of its emergence on the political scene is that outside of Maori-related issues (say, rural health and lower-income welfare support), it had zero to little impact on NZ government policy. The “big” policy decisions were made by Pakeha-dominated parties, including things like foreign and defence policy (I wrote about the Maori Party’s lack of consequence in NZ foreign policy other than on international indigenous affairs in this scholarly article).

Today’s Te Pati Maori is different. More than a just a party name change, it is overtly anti-Establishment and “progressive” in orientation (whatever “progressive” means to them, which may not be what other “progressives” think that they are). As the proposed Maori parliament suggests, TPM rejects the system as given. That is why it uses the word “strike” without regard to the Pakeha convention known as Employment Law. It’s spokespeople openly speak of “revolution” and government overthrow even if it is unclear what they actually mean when they use those terms. What is clear is that TPM is more about political theatre and symbolic politics than delivering tangible policy outcomes to and for their constituents. If anything, its marginalization within the political system has increased along with its militant rhetoric and actions. It might be too early to tell, but the carkoi protests could be seen in that light: as a lot of bluster and fanfare but no tangible impact or results to show for them. In fact, the response from most other parties was to either lambaste or shrug and ignore Te Pati Maori’s antics. Time will tell if the impact of the protests are more subtle and longer-term in nature but for the moment TPM stands alone, seemingly barking into the wind.

Again, that got me wondering as I stopped to check my white privilege. Am I being unkind to TPM? Or am I just another racist cracker bleating about the rise of a righteous and strong indigenous voice?

I found my answer in Gramsci. It occurs to me that, because TMP often refers to its actions and rationales in neo-Marxist terms with a smattering of Paulo Freire, Franz Fanon and Norm Chomsky thrown in, that Te Pati Maori sees itself waging a war of position within the “trenches” of the NZ Pakeha State. That is to say, it is working from within to disseminate its “counter-hegemonic” vision and policy prescriptions in civil and political society. Its focus is on grassroots organising, starting with Maori and reaching out from there into other “progressive” communities such as those grouped under the Green and Left Labour banners. It is not worried about converting the old Pakeha elites or engaging in parliamentary compromises because, as the recent census shows, Maori are growing in demographic numbers while Pakeha are declining. Given the structure of MMP, that growth can translate into increased seats in whatever parliament they chose to stand in, and given the youth appeal that they presently feel that they have, time is on their side. Along with forging alliances within the Labour and Green parties, unions and other civil society organisations, TPM is using a long-game strategy where what it is doing now sows the seeds for its successes down the road.

They may not be so loco after all.

So what to make of Te Pati Maori? Are they just nuts (as the term “loco” implies)? Are they communists, extremists and separatists as Winston First and Tugger Jones claim them to be? I would argue no to both suggestions. What TPM is doing is a time-honoured yet new form of politics in a social media age, where their theatrics are part of a grassroots appeal to marginalised and disaffected (not always the same) groups, especially proletarians of colour. By working “in the trenches” TPM can slowly promote an ideological re-orientation away from neoliberal vestiges (because neoliberalism is not just an economic doctrine but has become over the course of two generations a social construct that frames our way of life) and towards a type of post-modern indigenous-centric perspective infused with working class-based values and perspectives. This view is self-realised and awake rather than woke, defiant but not always disrespectful, confrontational but not conflictual, independent rather than (Pakeha) dependent, cooperative and collective rather than corporate in organization. It may take time for the TPM-led movement to congeal, but the stirrings are there and the people are ready for generational change to take effect. That is the plan and TPM sees itself as the instrument for converting that plan into praxis.

Or so they hope.