The title for this post is taken from a book of the same name, which is sort of a manifesto for a larger project aimed at achieving something like what it is called: a Westphalia for the Middle East. This is not the first time I have seen efforts to link Westphalia and the Middle East, nor even the first academic effort to do so. This one is different, however, because it is sponsored by Cambridge University and includes an ongoing effort to make something happen rather than just discussing some parallels. It was kicked off by a conference a few years ago which I was, unfortunately, unable to attend. I was recently invited to another, much smaller conference in May of this year, which I did participate in, and where I got a copy of the book shown here. As someone who has written critically of other attempts to link Westphalia and the Middle East, I have to say that this one is better thought-out than most and addresses most of my up front concerns. The general approach is for a comprehensive, regional conference (and subsequent agreement) with major power involvement and some kind of enforcement mechanism. I expect to hear more about it in coming years.
Posts Tagged ‘Middle East’
History repeats itself, and historians repeat each other. We are witnessing a case of one or the other in the current situation in Syria, where religious conflict has called to mind the religious conflicts of 16th and 17th century Europe. If Europe ended its religious wars with the Peace of Westphalia, the thinking goes, a new Peace of Westphalia may be the prescription for bringing peace to Middle East.
A quick recap of the events leading up to the first Westphalia: Martin Luther started the Reformation in 1517, and a major competing version of Protestantism arose in the 1530’s under John Calvin. Every Christian state in Europe struggled to come to grips with this movement, but the ones that saw the most fighting between Protestants and Catholics were France, the Low Countries, and the Holy Roman Empire (now Germany). In 1618, civil war broke out in the Empire between Protestants and Catholics, and gradually drew in other European states until nearly the whole Continent was fighting. It was over a generation before the fighting in Germany finally stopped. The settlement, signed in 1648 in two small towns in Westphalia, gave considerable latitude to subordinate rulers within the Empire to manage religious affairs within their realms, while guaranteeing certain basic rights to religious minorities – a federalist solution that would make Americans proud.
Islam has its own problem with disputing versions Shia and Sunni, dating back to the 7th century. Only recently, however, have Westerners begun seeing it as an analogue to Europe’s religious struggles. As long as Sadam Hussein and Bashar Assad managed the religious divisions in their countries, however ruthlessly, the split within Islam was peaceful for the most part. With the breakdown of authority in Iraq and Syria and the bloody wars there between the two Islamic sects, religious differences have suddenly become an international issue of the first order. Unlike the war against generic “Islamic extremists,” which could be viewed in terms of the long-term conflict between the West and Islam, these new civil wars can’t be easily pigeon-holed and are causing analysts to stretch their imaginations to come up with solutions.
As far as I can tell, the first person to compare the situation in Syria with the Peace of Westphalia was Henry Kissinger, in 2012. He did so in entirely conventional terms: Westphalia, he wrote, is the foundation of our international order, and it is based on state sovereignty. Intervening in Syrian affairs would compromise the principle of sovereignty and thereby risk unleashing another Thirty Years’ War on the world. Ironically, within a few years scholars were drawing the exact opposite lessons from the past, seeing the Peace of Westphalia not as a reason to stay out of Syria but as a model for intervention. At least two academic conferences have been organized on the basis of comparing Europe’s religious wars with the Middle East’s, one of them explicitly pointing toward the Peace of Westphalia as a model for a solution.
These scholars are certainly right about one thing: the Peace of Westphalia says nothing about sovereignty or non-intervention. We can blame the tradition of “historians repeating themselves” that the connection between Westphalia and sovereignty ever became popular in the first place, as one writer after another repeated the claim without investigating its origins until it became an unquestionable orthodoxy. Anarchist philosopher Pierre-Joseph Prudhon, who first proposed that Westphalia endorsed the principle of sovereignty (as an aside in an article that he wrote on the much later treaties of 1815), would probably have been astonished how thoroughly his idea informed international relations theory in the second half of the 20th century. Instead of approving non-intervention, Westphalia did the opposite: it endorsed France and Sweden’s intervention in the Holy Roman Empire to protect the rights of religious minorities.
To that extent, it makes sense to look to Westphalia as a model for a peace in Syria that would be brokered by outside powers such as the U.S. and Russia. But if we look at the comparison any closer, we find that it is an exceeding weak model for peace. Whereas the Holy Roman Empire already had a history stretching back 700 years or more by 1648, Syria is a relatively recent creation of the retreating colonial powers that owes more to the Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916 than to the sort of organic process that created the Empire over centuries and fostered such a strong sense of unity among its inhabitants. During that time, the Empire had become politically decentralized, managing to continue to exist in spite of the fact that its subordinate duchies, counties, and cities conducted their own foreign policies and even raised their own armies. It was a difficult task, and there was a tendency for border regions of the Empire to become independent (such as the Dutch Republic in 1648) or get incorporated into other states (such as Alsace, which was absorbed into France before the end of the century). Yet it was functional to a surprising extent. The quasi-independent units paid taxes, submitted to Imperial justice, and even waged war as part of the Empire.
It is difficult to imagine Syria surviving a similar decentralization. Hardly anything binds Syrians together that does not also bind them to other people – Muslim Arabs, Kurds, Druze – in neighbouring states. Regional governments exist, but have no tradition of operating independently or of co-ordinating their relations with each other. The division of Syria into smaller, more religiously homogeneous regions would likely result in civil war, possibly leading to re-unification, or to the regions’ withdrawing entirely from Syria and joining with those they share most in common with. Would Syrian Kurds be more likely to stay with Syria or to try to join with other Kurds in Iraq? This even presumes that relatively homogeneous units could be created out of Syria, which may be the case for Sunnis and Shi’ites, and perhaps Kurds, but what about Syria’s other religious groups, such as the Druze (3% of the population) or Christians (10%)? What about people who share a religion but are an ethnic minority, such as Armenians, Turkomens, and Circassians?
Then again, Syria would not have the advantages of settled neighbours the way the Holy Roman Empire did. The Empire was the last Christian state to resolve its religious problems in 1648, so it had little to fear from rebel groups in adjacent countries raiding or fomenting division among its provinces. Syria faces the opposite situation, as Lebanon and Iraq are still violently divided and show no signs of resolving their problems any time soon. To the contrary, it seems certain that extremists on both sides of the Islamic divide will continue to do their best to unify the region under a single religious law; and, failing that, to spread terrorism, fear, and disorder wherever they cannot control. No purely Syrian solution is going to solve the underlying conflict of goals because there are parties that have no intention to restrict themselves to national boundaries. That includes many Syrians, who may be forced to accept an agreement for a time, but are likely to ignore it as soon as the immediate threat is over.
The Westphalian model for Syrian peace, therefore, fails because the historical situations are only superficially similar. The Thirty Years’ War was the last war in Europe fought primarily for religious reasons. Does anyone think that the Syrian civil war will be the last Middle Eastern war fought for religious reasons?
Here is yet another article linking the Syrian civil war with the Peace of Westphalia (and the Thirty Years’ War). I don’t have anything to add to what I’ve already said here and here. The comparison is picking up steam (this is the fourth article that I can recall) in spite of my best efforts to point out that it doesn’t work very well. But, hey, people are talking about the Peace of Westphalia, so it can’t be all bad.
Last Friday was Peace of Westphalia Day — the 366th anniversary of the signing of the treaties. I was, appropriately enough, delivering a paper on the Peace of Westphalia. I was at a conference at Columbia University that brought together specialists to compare early modern Europe’s religious wars with the current religious conflicts in the Middle East. This seems like a bit of a stretch for historians, but not so much for political scientists. Fortunately, both I and the other member of my panel, Wayne Te Brake, were open to the comparative perspective. Professor Te Brake is most known for Shaping History: Ordinary People in European Politics, 1500-1700, but he is currently working on a book on the ends of Europe’s religious wars. Hopefully there will be a publication coming out of this conference some time next year.
I recently bought and started to read Henry Kissinger’s latest book, World Order, which begins (of course) with the Peace of Westphalia. Perhaps ironically, he also compares the Thirty Years’ War to contemporary Islamic wars, although from a cynical perspective: “Much like the Middle Eastern conflagrations of our own period, sectarian alignments were invoked for solidarity and motivation in battle but were just as often discarded, trumped by clashes of geopolitical interests or simply the ambitions of outsized personalities” (pp.25-26). You can read my comments on it here.
[Note: This post originally appeared on my blog on February 9, 2014.] The idea of linking Syria and Westphalia had never occurred to me until I stumbled across it on an unrelated search last week. I found that it was not a new or isolated connection, but one that has been going since the beginning of the Arab Spring and has been raised by several people from different angles.
The earliest reference that I have seen (without spending much time trying to ferret out exactly how far back this goes) is this article by Henry Kissinger in the Washington Post nearly two years ago. He approaches Westphalia from the traditional standpoint of sovereignty, which is kind of depressing because I would hope that people would start getting over that mistake by now, but hardly surprising. Most other references I have seen link Syria and Westphalia in a similar fashion: intervention in Syria challenges the international order of sovereign states established in 1648 at Westphalia.
I have found one article that takes a completely different tack. It appeared in the “Los Angeles Review of Books” and was written by Robert Zaretsky under the title Syria and the Peace of Westphalia. Zaretsky makes passing reference to sovereignty as a key feature of Westphalia, but his argument is not about sovereignty or intervention at all. Instead, he approaches Syria as a region struggling to hold together a central government in spite of deep-seated religious differences among its people, much as the Holy Roman Empire was in the first half of the 17th century. He proposes a federalist solution along the lines of the Peace of Augsburg (1555), as modified by the Peace of Westphalia: different regions could have different established religions, and people who wanted to live in an area where their faith was predominant would be encouraged to move to one. If they chose to stay behind as a minority, “they would be granted limited rights and protection to practice their faith.”
Merely by recognizing that Westphalia was based on international intervention in the religious and political affairs of one state, Zaretsky has shown himself to understand it better than almost any other commentator. And, since I am a strong believer in federalism, I think his solution is promising. However, I would like to point out two differences with the situation in 1648 that make it problematic. The first is that the Holy Roman Empire was already politically decentralized to an extreme degree. It needed no new structures to allow its constituent parts — duchies, counties, cities, and so forth — to exercise a large degree of self-government; they had already been doing so for centuries. In Syria, there is no tradition of regional government, so creating new territories along religious lines and setting up administrative organs would be a major challenge.
The other difference concerns the geopolitical situation around the Holy Roman Empire compared to that around Syria. The Empire was surrounded by states that had basically resolved their religious problems (mostly by eliminating the minorities in one way or another, but sometimes by compromise). The Reformation was over a century old by 1648; unlike in the 16th century, when restive minorities proselytized across the Continent and fomented rebellion, most of the missionary zeal had spent its force and political institutions had had a chance to adapt to new realities. There was, therefore, not much chance that the Empire’s religious peace would be upset by subversive outsiders. This was especially the case because of France’s role as a Catholic power which supported Protestant estates in the Empire. France did not want Catholics to unify the Empire, which would probably benefit their Habsburg opponents, but neither did they want to see Protestants make gains at the expense of Catholics. It was a difficult position to maintain, but as long as France was the most powerful nation in Europe, it was unlikely to allow either side to make drastic changes — as it had demonstrated in the 1630’s, when it intervened to limit the expansion of its own ally, Sweden.
Syria has none of these benefits. The Shi’a-Sunni conflict, although many centuries old, has not settled into anything like mutual toleration. Both sides have shown themselves willing to use terrorism to destabilize their opponents, which makes it difficult for any state to hold together, especially one that would be based on a loose, federal structure. Chronic instability in its neighbours, Lebanon and Iraq, creates an even greater challenge for Syria. There is also always a possibility that the government might become involved in a foreign war, and the Holy Roman Empire offers little encouragement in this regard, since different estates took different sides in several foreign conflicts after 1648. The Empire was able to remain together in spite of this because it had centuries of history, a common language, and common institutions in its favour; it is doubtful if a federated Syria would be able to come together again after its parts fought each other.
The conflict between Austria and Prussia — nominally both part of the Empire — was itself a driving force behind the international conflicts in the middle of the 18th century. Would a federated Syria also tempt foreign powers to seek relations with individual Syrian regions, perhaps with the overt aim of defending that region’s religious position, but with a covert intention to weaken the central government and perhaps ultimately to take over? It is precisely the fact that the Peace of Westphalia was not based on state sovereignty that creates a difficulty with this solution, because the introduction of semi-sovereign units below the state level expands the opportunities for conflict enormously. Sovereignty creates issues of its own, but in a volatile region where governments have little respect for each other’s legitimacy, the existence of a powerful central government limits opportunities for meddling.