The doctrines of using force as an argument in resolving political questions are as old as the world. “Power politics” or “Machtpolitik” are derivatives of the axiom that the relationship of power is the key to solving a conflict of interests. Policy from a position of strength is in some ways the extreme expression of “Realpolitik”. “Man hat Gewalt, so hat man recht,” Goethe once concluded.
For example, “gunboat diplomacy” has become a classic embodiment of policy from a position of strength. It spread during the era of colonial expansion. The bargaining position of the Western powers in negotiating concessions and rights with the native population began to be strengthened by anchoring warships in the ports of an exotic partner. The gunboats made locals aware of the significant inequality of the parties in the negotiations. They didn’t even have to open fire.
Lord Palmerston himself sanctioned the gunboat policy in British foreign policy. In the so-called Don Pacifico case of 1850 (it concerned a British subject, and at the same time a Portuguese consul in Athens, who fell victim to an anti-Semitic pogrom), when the Greek government refused to pay the compensation due to the victim, Palmerston ordered the British fleet to block Piraeus and seize Greek ships. The moral reproach of the House of Lords was thwarted by a decision by the House of Commons to support the use of such methods to protect British citizens.
The British forced China to make concessions in the opium wars by naval force. With the help of the presence of ships, Matthew Perry opened Japan to the outside world in the mid-nineteenth century. The presence of American ships gave the spirit of the Hawaiian insurgents in 1893, who eventually attached Hawaii to the United States.
British gunboats in 1896 persuaded the Sultan of Zanzibar to step down from the throne. And it took them just 45 minutes. Theodore Roosevelt must have liked the argument of gunboats likewise when advising to speak softly and carry a big stick. The influx of the American gunboats greatly helped Panama to separate itself from Venezuela in 1903. In 1911, Wilhelm II sent gunboat “Panther” to protect the so-called German commercial interests in Agadir (but in fact it was part of the pressure on France to compensate Germany for taking Morocco under its control).
In 1932, the demonstrative call of ORP Wicher (escorting British ships) to Gdańsk turned out to be an effective argument in breaking the Free City’s opposition to access by Polish ships to its port.
Gunboats (military boats, destroyers, aircraft carriers, etc.) also emerge today as a political signal, especially where there is a territorial dispute about the affiliation of the islands (Senkaku / Diaoyu), the boundaries of territorial waters, the territorial shelf or the economic zone (Cyprus, Spratly Islands). Their presence is still symbolic (the visit of the American cutter Dallas with humanitarian aid to the Georgian port of Batumi in 2008) or becomes a demonstration (France sending the Lafayette frigate in August 2020 for joint exercises with the Greek fleet in the context of the tension caused by Turkish exploration activities on the Greek shelf).
Machtpolitik is not only a privilege of states with superpower status. It can also be cultivated by smaller countries. In March 1938, Poland used a minor incident on the Polish-Lithuanian border near Marcinkańce to launch an entire campaign of pressure on Lithuania to normalize relations. Anti-Lithuanian demonstrations of many thousands took place in Vilnius and other Polish cities at that time. Troops were drawn to the border. And on March 17, 1938, Poland issued a 48-hour ultimatum demanding the establishment of diplomatic relations without preconditions. And Poland had its way. It is true that the Polish action coincided with Anschlus of Austria. A year later, Germany in an ultimatum demanded from Lithuania that Klaipeda should join the Reich. The Lithuanians did not argue.
The demonstration of force as an instrument of foreign policy is still present not only in the pattern of gunboat diplomacy, as mentioned above. Planes (even transport and unarmed aircraft) are sent to consciously violate the foreign airspace (a case of notorious violations of the airspace of the three Baltic states by Russia). Manoeuvrers are carried out near the borders and massive concentration of forces is conducted there (as done by Russia near the border with Ukraine in 2021). A new phenomenon is the use of virtual space to demonstrate power.
It is estimated that the purpose of some massive hacker attacks is not so much to damage the sensitive infrastructure of another country, but simply to demonstrate the ability to conduct hostile actions (this especially applies to the so-called retaliatory strikes).
Demonstration of force is increasingly associated with politically extreme situations. For less and less can be achieved with force in the modern world, especially in Europe. Some observers have tried to present the 44-day Karabakh war of 2020 as a return to the policy of forceful solutions. Undoubtedly, the choice of the forceful method to resolve the dispute cannot be optimistic. It was, however, (triggered by impatience and perhaps desperation) more atavistic than a harbinger of new behaviour in international politics. Nobody in his right mind expects that, inspired, emboldened or justified by the Azerbaijani-Turkish approach, Spain will immediately deploy troops to Gibraltar, Cyprus to the northern part of the island, and Moldova to Transnistria.
Today, politics from a position of power is practised in a more veiled way. In October 2020, when China did not like Australia’s decision to conduct an independent investigation into the origins of the coronavirus, and there were public voices critical of China about how to fight the pandemic, Chinese authorities ordered local brokers to stop importing coal, barley and copper ore, sugar, wood, wine and lobsters. The ban, however, did not apply to Australian iron ore, because this import is of strategic importance for China. This was seen as a serious attempt to silence critics of Chinese politics.
After the detention of Meng Wanzhou, Huawei’s vice president, in 2018, the Chinese authorities suspended imports of Canadian pork and beef to China for a while, and pests were detected in the shipment of Canadian timber, as well as colza imports were suspended. So when China banned pork from Germany in September 2020 citing the African swine fever case (and Germany was China’s third largest supplier of pork), many observers were reluctant to believe that it had nothing to do with the planned the so-called lex China restricting the freedom of Chinese investments in the technological sphere.
A specific Pavlovian reaction in trade policy had been introduced earlier by Russia. When, as in 2006, it did not like the behaviour of Georgia or Moldova, Rospotrebnadzor introduced an embargo on wine imports from these countries (and almost all foreign sales were dependent on the Russian market). Gennady Onishchenko, the then head of Rospotrebnadzor, was becoming the executor of Russia’s foreign policy. He did so with pleasure several times. It was not, as in the case of, for example, Polish apples or French cheese in 2014, retaliation for the EU sanctions imposed on Russia after the annexation of Crimea. The Russian import embargo in the post-Soviet space (it concerned even the most devoted allies, such as Belarus) was a forceful signal of dissatisfaction with the partners’ policies. A demonstration of commercial force.
Can the Russian extrajudicial killings carried out in the territory of NATO countries (Great Britain, Germany or France) be considered a similar demonstration of force? And what about demonstrations of new types of weapons, the operational suitability of which may be questioned, but are intended to be evidence of having the determination to accelerate the arms race. The demonstration of force becomes a sheer posturing, which is to cover the real weakness (like the expedition of the aircraft carrier “Admiral Kuznetsov” to the Middle East at the turn of 2016 and 2017).
Force still tempts you to flaunt it. But it’s getting harder and harder to deploy it.
Every diplomat experienced in his daily activities the action of the factor of strength in even the softest, allusive form. It appears most often in the scare of the unpleasant consequences of rejecting the negotiation proposals of the “stronger” partner, even in third-rate matters. Diplomats are also no stranger to a ruthless attitude. To be successful, some diplomats are ready to use any arguments, including completely non-diplomatic ones.
Pressure is exerted on the Member States also by the heads of international organizations. International institutions have a natural tendency to alienate themselves from the Member States. This applies especially to organizations with a technical profile, the so-called specialized organizations. Over time, their secretariats become so aloof in views and politics that the bureaucracy acts as another member state. No wonder that in their contacts with smaller or weaker member states they are starting to act as a superpower. Because smaller Member States often have to act as a petitioner: they seek employment of their fellow citizens, compete for contracts, vie for operational programs, for grants. Larger states, which have a decisive influence on the size of the budget and the staffing of managerial positions in the secretariat, may, although sometimes even with difficulty, ensure the ability to control the activities of the secretariats, but small and even medium-sized states must take into account sometimes quite imperial behaviour of officials. Of course, imperial in content, and not in form, because the principles of diplomatic manners always require that representatives of member states be treated with respect and courtesy.
I have experienced the international secretariats acting from a position of strength at least several times in my career. In 2006, while negotiating the budget of the Council of Europe as a permanent representative of the Republic of Poland, I turned out to be quire a difficult partner for the Secretariat management. Not only did I expose the obvious weaknesses of the draft, but I also mobilized a solid coalition of states (including big payers, such as Great Britain, Turkey and Switzerland), which refused to support it. The stalemate was serious. Secretary General Terry Davis (a keen and capable micromanager) did not want to change the draft and believed that, as in the past three decades, no one would dare to vote against the proposal of the Secretariat. The Secretariat always negotiated the draft budget from a position of strength (which in the case of the Council of Europe was an established practice; the Member States had the decisive say in setting the global ceiling, but the Secretariat always wanted to do its own way the details).
The stalemate continued and, over time, the Secretariat could not help but be tempted to put pressure on reluctant Member States. Polish employees of the Secretariat started calling me. They suggested that if our tough position was maintained, they or their organizational units would become victims of the cuts that the budget envisaged. Blackmail, one might say, not very elegant. So I decided to blow the matter to the largest possible size and raise it at a formal meeting of the Committee of Ministers Deputies. The Secretary General reacted with well-acted indignation, condemned such practices of pressure, demanded that the names of employees be given to him, etc. The budget was passed with five votes against, which tainted the Secretariat’s image (and made it more flexible in relation to the demands of the Member States in the following years). There were no unpleasant consequences for Polish employees and interests. And the Secretariat of the Council of Europe has earned itself among the sarcastic Strasbourg ambassadors the title of the forty-eighth member state.
At least a few more times I clashed quite sharply with Terry Davis on substantive matters. We left each clash while multiplying mutual respect and appreciation. Towards the end of his tenure as Secretary General, Terry Davis gave me publicly the greatest compliment he could ever give to a guy in Birmingham, where he came from (and accidentally also across Australia): “Piotr, you are a good bloke!” Russell Ward described a guy characterised as a “bloke” like this: a practical man, rough and ready in his manners and quick to decry any appearance of affectation in others… Though capable of great exertion in an emergency, he normally feels no impulse to work hard without good cause. He swears hard and consistently, gambles heavily and often, and drinks deeply on occasion… he is a greater knocker of eminent people unless, as is in the case of his sporting heroes, they are distinguished by physical prowess. He is fiercely independent… above all he will stick to his mates through thick and thin, even if he thinks they may be wrong… He tends to be a rolling stone, highly suspect if he should chance to gather much moss. ” All I would have to remark in this connection is to rectify that I have never ever gambled in my life.
