Over the last several days, two pieces attacking the realist approach to Russia were published in prominent media outlets in the United States and Russia. One, co-authored by Lev Gudkov of the Levada Center, Igor Klyamkin, vice president of the Liberal Mission Foundation, Georgy Satarov, president of the Russian NGO the Indem Foundation and Lilia Shevtsova, a senior associate at the Carnegie Moscow Center was featured on the editorial page of the Washington Post. The other, by Andrei Piontkovsky, a visiting fellow at the Hudson Institute, was released in the Moscow Times.
I read these pieces concerning the moves to improve relations between America and Russia with a profound feeling of depression. This is not just because there is something bizarre and twisted about pro-Western Russian liberals attacking the recommendations of the Hart-Hagel Commission or statesmen such as Henry Kissinger and James Baker. It is also because their criticism serves as a mouthpiece for the agendas of the most bitterly anti-Russian and geopolitically aggressive liberal interventionists and neocons who help maintain tensions between Russia and the West—and actually between the United States and the rest of the world.
And these tensions are extremely damaging to any hopes of the long-term liberalization and Westernization of Russia which these liberals want to further. Do Piontkovsky, Shevtsova and the others seriously think that the U.S.-Russian rivalry in the Caucasus, and the war over South Ossetia which resulted, helped the cause of liberalism in Russia? Do they ever actually talk to any ordinary Russians, one wonders? Or do their duties briefing Americans simply leave them no time for this?
My depression is also because Russia does in fact desperately need a strong liberal movement which can influence the state in a positive direction. Thus figures like Igor Yurgens, a leading businessman and adviser to President Medvedev, are playing an extremely valuable role in resisting moves to further authoritarianism, centralization and nationalization in response to the economic crisis. They could do much better if they had bigger support within the population at large.
Tragically however, many Russian liberals in the 1990s—through the policies they supported and the arrogant contempt they showed towards the mass of their fellow Russians—made liberals unelectable for a generation or more across most of Russia; and to judge by these and other writings of liberals like the ones under discussion, they have learnt absolutely nothing from this experience. They think that they form some kind of opposition to the present Russian establishment. In fact, they are such an asset to Putin in terms of boosting public hostility to Russian liberalism that if they hadn’t already existed, Putin might have been tempted to invent them.
Two aspects of their approach are especially noteworthy. The first is the profoundly illiberal—even McCarthyite—way in which Piontkovsky tries to disqualify views with which he disagrees by suggesting that they are motivated purely by personal financial gain, rather than conviction. Where, one wonders, would this leave all those Russian liberals, and U.S. think tanks, which took money from Mikhail Khodorkovsky and other Russian oligarchs in the past? Where would it leave those U.S. officials linked to leading U.S. private financial companies whose shares benefited so magnificently from the plundering of Russia in the 1990s? Where, indeed, does it leave Russians—like two of the writers under discussion—who draw their salaries from U.S. think tanks? Actually, I do believe that most are motivated by sincere conviction—but all the same, they would do well to remember the old adage about people who live in glass houses.
The other is the intellectual sleight of hand by which Shevtsova, Gudkov and the others suggest—without arguing or substantiating the suggestion—that the desire of ordinary Russians for greater democracy and the rule of law equates both with hostility to the present Russian administration tout court, and to acquiescence in U.S. foreign-policy goals in Georgia and elsewhere. According to every opinion poll I have seen, it is entirely true that most Russians would like to see more of certain elements of democracy in Russia, including, as the authors mention, the rule of law and a freer media.
But, according to the same polls, this certainly does not add up to approval of “democracy” as it was practiced under the Yeltsin administration, and praised by some of the authors. Georgy Satarov was, in fact, a top official in Yeltin’s political machine with direct responsibility for some of the undemocratic practices of that administration. What is also absolutely certain according to the same polls is that whatever their feelings about Russian domestic policies, the overwhelming majority of Russians support the basic foreign-policy line of the present Russian administration and oppose that of the United States vis a vis Russia. This is not to say that every American policy decision has been wrongheaded and Russia remains justified in all of its positions, but rather that people who blindly back a U.S. democracy-promotion line are doing an injustice to the very liberalization they seek.
They are also very bad for the interests of America. The military overstretch produced by Iraq and Afghanistan has now been compounded by the colossal burden on U.S. resources created by the present economic recession. In these circumstances, as the Obama administration has recognized, the United States needs firstly to identify its truly important international interests and prioritize them; to reduce the hostility of other states to America wherever this can be done without surrendering important U.S. interests and values; and to enlist the help of other states, including Russia, in dealing with truly important issues like Iran’s nuclear program and the long-term future of Afghanistan.
Do these Russian authors really think that U.S. interests and values are served by giving lectures on democracy that only infuriate ordinary Russians? By making further commitments to a regime such as that of Mikhail Saakashvili in Georgia? By pressing upon Ukraine a NATO membership which most Ukrainians oppose? The truth of the matter is that like Ahmed Chalabi and other “democracy promoters” who have sought U.S. aid, these writers care neither for American nor for Russian interests, but only to enlist U.S. help in trying to bring themselves and the groups they represent to power and influence in their countries—and do not even know enough about their countries to see that appealing for U.S. help in this way only reduces whatever popularity they still have.
By this kind of approach, foreign liberal informants like the Russians who authored these editorials have contributed to a deep flaw in Western journalism, reflecting in turn a tragic flaw in humanity itself: namely an extreme difficulty in empathizing with those whose background, culture, experience and interests differ from your own.
For of course, for better or worse, other peoples are just as nationalist as Americans themselves. They may well wish for democracy—but not always or necessarily if it comes with unconstrained capitalism and the assumption that to be a democrat means sacrificing your national interests to those of the United States. In the case of Russia, these American assumptions in the 1990s helped lead to the reaction of Vladimir Putin. And Putin’s Russia isn’t the worst we could see by a very long chalk. If the present Russian system falls, as the writers under discussion so ardently desire, we can be very sure of one thing: It would not be Russian liberals like them who would rise from the resulting ruins.
In none of the statements by the Hart-Hagel Commission or the likes of Henry Kissinger, is anyone an apologist for potential Russian aggression. Instead, they argue that compromise, when the West can afford it to get cooperation from Russia in the areas we need it, is the ultimate goal of sensible and realistic U.S. policy—not all or nothing strategies that will never achieve anything, and which these Russian liberals in any case never spell out in detail.
Understanding what narrative a specific nationalism is based on is key to creating better outcomes for U.S. policies in a number of countries of the world, including Iran and Pakistan. It is equally crucial in establishing better relations not just with the present Russian administration, but much more importantly with the Russian people; and thereby over time helping Russians get the freer media and more open elections they desire.
Part of the reason why both Russian liberals and many Western analysts tend to get Russia so badly wrong is that they instinctively compare that country with former Communist states, Soviet satellites in Eastern Europe and the Baltic nations. There, mass movements were generated in support of economic reform and democratization processes which, however flawed, spared them from the dreadful experience of Russia and Ukraine in the 1990s.
This comparison is dead wrong, and wrong for a reason that goes to the heart of the Russian liberals’ failure to win mass support in Russia. In Eastern Europe, successful democratization, the adoption of successful economic reform, and the eventual achievement of economic growth proceeded in tandem because they were backed up by very powerful mass nationalist drives in these countries that were directed first and foremost towards taking these countries out of the orbit of Moscow, and into their “rightful” historical place as members of the West.
The other aspect of Eastern Europe that cannot be replicated for Russia – or indeed, anywhere else in the world - is the pull, and the discipline, provided to the East Europeans and Baltics by the genuine offer of membership in the EU and NATO. The need to conform to the EU accession process in turn greatly limited opportunities for the kind of outright kleptocracy seen in Russia.
The failure to date to generate mass support for Westernizing reform in Russia has been a key factor in the extremely hesitant pace of such reforms compared to the central European countries and the Baltic states. This is due simply to the obvious fact that among Russians, anti-Russian nationalism cannot be a force of reform; and that, indeed, the whole drive to escape from the Soviet past has a completely different meaning.
If nationalism is to play a part in Russian development, then it will inevitably be along very different lines, and linked in some form to the restoration of Russia’s position as a great power (not of course a superpower) in the world. A key problem for Russia, however, is that given the geopolitical ambitions of both Russia and Western powers, such a course of development inevitably brings with it a strong measure of rivalry with the West.
That pro-Western Russian liberals like Lilia Shevtsova have the greatest difficulty confronting or even recognizing this dilemma stems from the tragic nature of their situation. They genuinely believe not only that their program is in Russia’s national interest, but that reform in Russia requires the closest possible relations with the West. This necessarily means that Russia has to sacrifice a range of lesser interests for the sake of their higher, indeed all-encompassing goal of “integration into the Western community” (a virtual leitmotif of her 2005 book Putin’s Russia).
But integration into the Western community, whether it be NATO or the EU, is not on offer at least for the foreseeable future. From the point of view therefore not only of Russian nationalists, but of ordinary nonideological Russians, there just are not enough benefits on offer in return for the concessions that Shevtsova and her allies are willing to make to the West in international affairs: like agreement to NATO membership for Ukraine and Georgia, reincorporation of Abkhazia and South Ossetia into Georgia, acquiescence in a U.S. missile shield in central Europe and so on. And indeed, even for a non-Russian, there is something a bit nauseating about Shevtsova’s determination in her published writings to agree with the United States and condemn her own country on every single issue on which they have disagreed.
This goes not only for issues where America was in the right, for example over past Russian interference in Ukraine’s presidential election campaign; but for issues where by far the greater part of the world supported Russia’s position, as over Bush’s abrogation of the anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty in 2002. The Putin administration’s efforts to maintain the treaty were, however, attributed by Shevtsova in her book to Soviet-style “complexes” and “neuroses.”
Nausea aside, the point once again is that such sentiments on the part of these sorts of liberals contribute to making them unelectable in Russia. And this of course is not the result of some form of unique Russian chauvinism or hatred of the West. Any American political grouping which openly and repeatedly identified with foreign interests over those of the United States would not, I think, be very likely to do well in an American election.
But then, Shevtsova and her allies do not really give a damn what ordinary Russians think or feel, and certainly take no interest in minor issues such as their incomes or living standards. The radical decline in the real value of state pensions in the 1990s, accompanied by long arrears in payments and the destruction of savings through devaluation, condemned many elderly Russians to hunger, despair and a premature death. Every reliable opinion poll on Putin’s popularity in his first years gave as one of the chief reasons the fact that under his rule pensions were paid on time, and their value had risen. The same was true of state wages.
By ignoring these issues, Shevtsova is able to write in her book that “For the intelligentsia, people who lived in large cities, and the politicized section of society, 2000 was much harder than 1999.” Statements of this kind consign the mass of the Russian population—including the elderly and the state-employed workers of the big cities—to non-existence. They implicitly state that the only sections of society whose opinions and interests should be of concern to the government are educated, young and dynamic urbanites. This was the approach of brash elite globalizers everywhere. They should not be surprised however if populations disagree, sometimes violently.
Gary Kasparov, treated by much of the Western media as the political face of Russian liberalism, has a very different approach. It has been to plan for Russian economic collapse, and with this in mind, to forge an alliance with savagely chauvinist neo-fascist groups, which will provide the tough street fighters who will exploit mass economic discontent. Shevtsova and her colleagues should take a close look at this repulsive but insightful strategy and ask themselves whether they really understand the country, and the world, that they are living in.
Anatol Lieven, a senior editor at The National Interest, is a professor in the War Studies Department of King’s College London and a senior research fellow at the New America Foundation.
Vice President Joe Biden is heading to Georgia and Ukraine next month. His trip will continue a foreign policy which has taken on the trappings of junior-high school: an endless search for new allies. More “friends” are believed to be better, irrespective of U.S. security. Instead, Washington should be shedding allies.
NATO has become the worst example of America’s junior-high foreign policy. Washington and its more traditional allies have welcomed a succession of new members which are security black holes, bringing with them geopolitical conflicts rather than security assets. Little pretense could be made that expanding NATO to Albania, Romania and similar states enhanced American security.
Even worse are proposals to add Georgia and Ukraine to the alliance. Both border Russia, have unresolved or potential territorial disputes with their nuclear-armed neighbor, and are politically immature. Bringing them into NATO would directly challenge Moscow’s border security and turn American foreign policy over to smaller powers of dubious reliability.
In fact, a new European Union report highlights the danger of extending U.S. protection to Georgia. Washington continues to press for NATO membership and in the interim has declared Tbilisi to be a “strategic partner.” The Georgian government had high hopes for the agreement; incoming Georgian Ambassador Batu Kutelia said that “cooperation with our strategic partner is almost the only assurance of our security.”
But what of American security?
Obviously, Georgia is geopolitically peripheral to the United States. Georgia was not only part of the Soviet Union. It was part of the Russian Empire. And the status of the territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia has varied over time—they enjoyed special autonomy even during the Soviet era. Who rules which of these lands matters to the people there, not to Americans. The presence of energy pipelines in Georgia changes little. Caspian Basin energy is useful, not critical, to the United States and the West’s access is not likely to be impeded short of war. Americans should be sympathetic to the Georgian people, given misgovernment at home and threats from abroad. But friendly feelings do not warrant promises of military intervention.
Some alliance advocates believe that no harm would come from guaranteeing Georgian security, since Moscow would not dare test America’s promise. However, history is littered with defense commitments that failed to deter. The major World War I alliances proved to be transmission belts of—rather than firebreaks to—war. The British and French guarantees to Poland in 1939 did not stop Germany from attacking; instead, they pulled the two countries into a conflict for which they were not prepared.
Moreover, Russia already has demonstrated that it views its border security as worth war. Further, geopolitics in the Caucasus matters far more to it than to America. Moscow is likely to discount U.S. threats, figuring that American policy makers are unlikely to risk Washington to protect Tbilisi. Exactly how the United States would defend Georgia against Russia isn’t clear, and how the United States would prevent any conflict from quickly escalating is even less clear. Think of the Cuban missile crisis: Washington was able to stare down Moscow for a number of reasons, including the fact that the United States had far more at stake and could bring far more force to bear near its border. The situation in Georgia is reversed.
Formalizing a security guarantee for Tbilisi also would make conflict more likely by insulating the Georgian government from the consequences of its own provocative actions. Here, too, history is replete with disastrous examples. In the summer of 1914, both Serbia and Austria-Hungary acted more provocatively because they could count on their allies’ support; Germany’s famous “blank check” to the latter made war a virtual certainty. More recently, former–Taiwanese President Chen Shui-bian spent eight years challenging China in the belief that the United States would come to his aid in any conflict. Washington’s attempt to moderate Chen’s behavior proved unavailing. Yet Beijing seemed to downplay the threat of American intervention. Similar irresponsibility was evident last August in Georgia. There was plenty of evidence of President Mikheil Saakashvili’s aggressive intentions in winning back the separatist territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia with force. His own officials indicated that they discounted the likelihood of Russian intervention and expected U.S. support.
Georgia’s role in triggering the crisis has been affirmed by an investigative commission established by the European Union after the war. Reports Spiegel online: “a majority of members tend to arrive at the assessment that Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili started the war by attacking South Ossetia on August 7, 2008. The facts assembled . . . refute Saakashvili’s claim that his country became the innocent victim of ‘Russian aggression’ on that day.” Retired British Colonel Christopher Langton said: “Georgia’s dream is shattered, but the country can only blame itself for that.” The office of Heidi Tagliavini, who heads the inquiry, countered that her work “is continuing” and that she had “the sole and exclusive responsibility” for final report. However, the apparent opinions of her panel’s experts are not new. Spiegel online had earlier reported:
One thing was already clear to the officers at NATO headquarters in Brussels: They thought that the Georgians had started the conflict and that their actions were more calculated than pure self-defense or a response to Russian provocation. In fact, the NATO officers believed that the Georgian attack was a calculated offensive against South Ossetian positions to create the facts on the ground.”
OSCE observers on the ground drew much the same conclusion. Although commission members apparently criticize both nations’ conduct of the war, they reportedly have compiled evidence that President Saakashvili long considered a military solution. Indeed, the panel is said to have found no evidence that, as he claimed, Russian tanks entered on August 7, initiating hostilities. These judgments are consistent with the testimony of Erosi Kitsmarishvili, Georgia’s former ambassador to Moscow, to the Georgian parliament that “Saakashvili wanted that war, he has been bracing for that during the last four years.”
The point is not that Russia was blameless, but that Georgia contributed greatly to its own plight. Added Kitsmarishvili: “Georgia broke out the war in South Ossetia, and Russia provoked it.” Unfortunately, it apparently didn’t take that much provoking. Despite subsequent claims of Russian aggression made by his government, Ambassador Kutelia, then-deputy defense minister, said Tbilisi hadn’t expected Moscow to respond with force: “We did not prepare for this kind of eventuality.”
Moreover, some commission members reportedly were suspicious about the American role. They wished they could ask what U.S. Ambassador to Georgia John Tefft knew and when he knew it. The panel also pointed to a remark by then-Assistant Secretary of State Daniel Fried that President Saakashvili “went out of control.” It seems unlikely that Washington promoted a Georgian attack. However, the Bush administration’s extravagant gestures of support and rhetorical backing for Tbilisi could have been misinterpreted by the impulsive, authoritarian and erratic Saakashvili.
Indeed, while some friends of Georgia portray Saakashvili as a great liberal, human-rights groups tell a different story. For instance, Human Rights Watch reported that his policies seemed “to fuel rather than reduce abuses.” He has used force to put down opposition demonstrations. Investigative journalist Nino Zuriashvili complained that “there was more media freedom before the Rose Revolution,” which propelled Saakashvili to power. NATO membership likely would make him more repressive and irresponsible. In particular, a formal defense guarantee would encourage Saakashvili to adopt more confrontational policies towards Moscow. For the alliance then to abandon Tbilisi in a crisis would wreck NATO’s credibility. However, a proposal for armed intervention would divide the alliance, with the older core members likely unwilling to initiate war against Russia. And large-scale conflict with Moscow—avoided during the entire cold war—would be a catastrophe for all concerned.
The Georgian people deserve our sympathy. But they are not entitled to Americans’ blood and treasure. It would extremely foolish to put the full military faith and credit of the United States on the line in the Caucasus. The way to make the United States more secure is to reduce, not increase, its security commitments.
Doug Bandow is a senior fellow at the Cato Institute. A former special assistant to President Reagan, he is the author of Foreign Follies: America’s New Global Empire (Xulon Press).
Nowhere Man
Why Ban Ki-moon is the world's most dangerous Korean.
BY JACOB HEILBRUNN
Ban Ki-moon, a general nonentity as secretary-general
For such a seemingly crucial position, the secretary-generalship of the United Nations has historically had a rather low bar for success. Kurt Waldheim? In his memoir, A Dangerous Place, Daniel Patrick Moynihan recounted that Waldheim functioned as "a post office, a somewhat antique but reasonably efficient public service run along Austro-Hungarian lines. As one sat down with him, he would be mentally sorting the mail while making small conversation." Boutros Boutros-Ghali? His arrogance and fecklessness as the Serbs laid waste to Bosnia prompted the Clinton administration to veto a second term. Kofi Annan? Brought low by his son Kojo's financial peculation in the Iraq oil-for-food scandal.
Even in this unimpressive company, though, Ban Ki-moon appears to have set the standard for failure. It's not that Ban has committed any particularly egregious mistakes in his 2½ years on the job. But at a time when global leadership is urgently needed, when climate change and international terrorism and the biggest financial crisis in 60 years might seem to require some—any!—response, the former South Korean foreign minister has instead been trotting the globe collecting honorary degrees, issuing utterly forgettable statements, and generally frittering away any influence he might command. He has become a kind of accidental tourist, a dilettante on the international stage.
Not for him bold speeches or attempts to mobilize public opinion behind what could be an organization that helps tackle nuclear proliferation or reconstruct Afghanistan. Not for him championing human rights, or even rallying in defense of beleaguered civilians. Visiting Malta in April for yet another honorary degree, he was evasive when asked about the island's penchant for sending illegal African immigrants packing off to Italy, saying, "I am not in a position to intervene." As tens of thousands of Tamil refugees lingered under fire on a narrow strip of beach in Sri Lanka, Ban and his advisors did little more than huddle in New York and wring their hands, only making a trip to the war zone after hostilities ended. Under his stewardship, the United Nations isn't merely an unhelpful place—it's a largely irrelevant one.
Ban's flaws were obvious dating back to his decades toiling in the South Korean foreign ministry, where he earned a telling nickname, "The Bureaucrat." Luckily for Ban, if not for the rest of the world, The Bureaucrat was exactly what the Bush administration was looking for after years of tussling with the assertively anti-American Annan. When it became Asia's turn to nominate a secretary-general, Bush's secretary of state, Condoleezza Rice, made Ban's election her pet project. But Ban failed to charm outside observers. In his book The Best Intentions, James Traub recounts a speech at the Council on Foreign Relations during Ban's campaign to become secretary: "[B]etween his anodyne oratory, and his unsteady grasp of English, I found that I had been lulled to sleep."
As secretary-general, Ban's soporific effect has never left him. One U.N. watcher told me that Ban is like the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one around to witness its crash—if you don't hear him, does he really exist? Aside from his role as a subsidiary of South Korea, Inc.—lining his office walls with Samsung televisions and hiring his South Korean buddies as senior advisors—his imprint has been negligible. Even Ban seems aware of what a nonentity he is: Last August, speaking to senior U.N. officials in Turin, he described his management style as elevating teamwork over intellectual attainment. But he went on to bemoan his difficulty overcoming bureaucratic inertia, ending with a gnomic admission of general defeat: "I tried to lead by example. Nobody followed."
At their best, U.N. secretaries-general can serve as a goad to the world's conscience and a genuine catalyst for change. Dag Hammarskjold, for example, sought to expand the United Nations' mandate by undertaking high-profile and frequently risky missions, from meeting with Chinese leaders under Mao to securing freedom for 15 American pilots captured during the Korean War to traveling several times to the Congo in hopes of averting warfare during decolonization. During the 1980s, the urbane Javier Pérez de Cuéllar earned high marks for conducting talks between Argentina and Britain after the Falklands War and for bringing about Namibian independence from South Africa.
So far, Ban has no such successes to his credit. It's not as if there aren't enough crises around the globe for him to make his mark, whether in Sri Lanka or Sudan or the Middle East. But Ban hasn't given any indication that he's going to have an impact in any of these places—or even that he wants to.
Ban Ki Moon is certainly not above criticism. In contrast to his predecessor, he is much more "secretary" than "general." No one looks to him as a "secular pope" as many looked to Kofi Annan for moral leadership. Rather, in his 2 1/2 years in office, it's become clear that Ban's diplomatic style is one that favors quiet, direct diplomacy over grandstanding.
There are benefits and drawbacks to this leadership style. But he is far from, as Jacob Heilbrunn asserts in Foreign Policy, "the world's most dangerous Korean" that has "set the standard for failure" among Secretary Generals.
Heilbrunn is a gifted writer, but his analysis of Ban's first two and a half years shows only a passing familiarity with what the United Nations has been up to since January 2007. For example, Heilbrunn suggests that Ban has been passive when it comes to climate change. This is just plain wrong. Ban has made climate change his signature issue. In September 2007, Ban invited world leaders, ranging from Nicolas Sarkozy to Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger to Al Gore to the United Nations headquarters for a climate change summit. (Foreign Policy even covered the event!) And there will be a repeat of this summit in September, which is intended to build some momentum for the climate talks in Copenhagen in December.
At the center of Heilbrunn's assertion that Ban is somehow "dangerous" is that in his 2 1/2 years, Ban has no successes of which to speak and that his quiet diplomatic style is making the UN irrelevant. There are two points to make here. First, 2 1/2 years is not a very long time with which to pass such sweeping judgments on a Secretary General. Most serve for five or ten years. Second, Heilbrunn seems to think that the Secretary General is a position with all means of authority over global affairs. Sure, it's a big title, but the Sec Gen has no real power other than the moral authority that comes with the title. Kofi Annan was skilled at wielding moral authority to press for human rights. For his part, Ban's been spending his moral capital on climate change.
The Sec Gen does have some (but not much) authority over how the General Secretariat runs itself. For example, he can't open or close new offices or bureaus with out the General Assembly's approval -- but he can make a few suggestions and prod the General Assembly to take them up. One important institutional reform he saw through was dividing the overburdened Department of Peacekeeping Operations into two directorates. That may not sound like much to outsiders, but it was a huge change in how the UN manages its over 100,000 peacekeepers in the field.
The bottom line is that Heilbrunn passes some sweeping judgements on the current Secretary General without showing that he knows very much about the position itself. A more useful way of judging the success or failure of a Secretary General is to analyze the extent to which he is able to achieve certain goals within the institutional and legal constraints that he faces. Simply picking a problem in the world and blaming the Secretary General for not fixing it is an easy way to beat up a Secretary General, but it is pretty unhelpful as a heuristic device.
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