When some bad actor does things over which the United States has no control, and in which our national strategic interest is limited, politicians and commentators rush to the editorial pages to do some moral posturing. They urge that we “do something,” almost always code for military action, even though those options are mostly nonexistent. A few months ago, it was the Burmese regime’s appalling indifference to the plight of its own people devastated by Cyclone Nargis. Back then, we had suggestions of military action, up to and including a U.S. invasion of Burma to distribute disaster assistance, and maybe topple the Burmese generals while we were at it – both absurd ideas that would have made an awful situation worse, gotten a lot of people killed, and embroiled us in an impossible, highly expensive Iraq-like nation-building project.

And today, it’s Georgia. Here the posturing gets even more transparent, as the Munich analogies fly once more. The basic problem here is that, no matter how much we might sympathize with pro-Western, pro-American Georgia, our military options are severely constrained. Russia’s actions are a problem and an ominous assertion of raw power. But Russia took them knowing there was very little the West would do about it – and also, presumably, with some strategic calibration, going far enough to humiliate Georgia and outrage the West, but not far enough to provoke a Western military response and a potentially catastrophic war. This is not to say we should trust Putin to be reasonable, just that he’s not crazy.

So, those urging “doing something” (or calling the immediate inclusion of Georgia into NATO, which would then require military action) have no clothes. But those urging the other course (I suppose, including myself) aren’t exactly sitting pretty either. Are we prepared to return to a Cold War era view and concede Russia a “sphere of influence” including hegemony over democratic, pro-Western states along its borders?

It is tantamount to saying that a large chunk of Europe, which isn’t wonderfully democratic but is surely more democratic than it used to be, should be subject to the effective authority of a state that doesn’t welcome the spread of democracy. This seems to me to set a terrible long term precedent. I don’t have specific policy recommendations for how the US and Europe should respond to the Georgia-Russia war – I am neither an area expert nor a guns’n’bombs specialist. But I’m going to stick my neck out and say that the key objective here isn’t to support Georgia – it’s to prevent this becoming a precedent for the recreation of Russian local hegemony across the wider region.

But of course this is not a binary choice between invasion and appeasement. There is nothing to be gained by openly or tacitly conceding Russia’s imperial designs here. The fact that the arguments are breaking down along these lines is one legacy of the simplemindedness of the post-9/11 Bush foreign policy (you’re either with us or against us; if you’re against us, we will not talk with you and might blow you up).

There’s good news and bad news out of Burma today. The good news: the Burmese generals have apparently agreed to let international aid workers into the areas hit hardest by Cyclone Nargis three weeks ago. The bad news: the junta is evidently planning to use its grudging concessions as leverage to grab a big prize – billions in reconstruction aid:

Burma’s military junta is seeking up to $11.7 billion in reconstruction aid at a donor conference scheduled this weekend in Rangoon, the former Burmese capital, raising fears among human rights activists and Western governments that Tropical Cyclone Nargis could become a diplomatic and financial windfall for the reclusive regime.

Burma has a gross domestic product of only about $15 billion, and Burmese officials have not indicated how they reached their damage assessment when as many as three-quarters of the 2.5 million victims of the May 2-3 cyclone have not yet received assistance.

If this gambit succeeds, it would be the worst of both worlds: disaster capitalism meeds totalitarianism. “Disaster capitalism” is a term coined by journalist Naomi Klein and explored in her book The Shock Doctrine. The basic idea is that our era’s mega-disasters have become a huge business for giant infrastructure corporations, and an excuse for clumsy free-market social engineering in which government support for disaster victims and reconstruction is supplanted by a kind of laissez faire free-for-all. (This thesis is a bit too deterministic for my taste, but Klein does put her finger on a broad trend we’ve seen in New Orleans, the 2004 tsunami and other disasters.)

In Burma’s case, the regime presumably hopes to get the billions while eschewing the free market part of the bargain. That would be a disaster in and of itself – sending billions to Burma without strict controls on how and where and by whom it is spent would facilitate one of the biggest thefts in history. Surely the diplomats and relief officials now on their way to Rangoon are well aware of this. The problem is, as the Post article notes, that both countries and corporations have been coveting Burma’s largely-untapped natural wealth for decades. They’ve sat by while the Burmese junta has become steadily more isolated. Now, there’s an entrée. But if history is any guide, unleashing the developers on Burma under the guise of reconstruction would enrich the regime and the companies involved, while providing little accountability on actual aid and reconstruction for the cyclone’s victims.

I have a piece up on the Guardian’s Comment is Free site on the problems of intervening in Burma. If I may quote myself:

Lamentably, the international community has few options when the rulers of a xenophobic police state decide to shut it out. Some food and supplies can be airdropped into targeted areas, but the risks would be high and the benefits limited. To have an impact on a disaster of this scale, you need organised supply chains, with people on the ground – lots of them – to distribute food, provide medical care and supplies, to clean up and rebuild. And they need to operate in safety. In other words, the cooperation of local authorities is necessary.

The Washington Post’s conservative internationalists are in full high dudgeon over Burma. But what they suggest … well, it’s not clear exactly what they are suggesting, other than, very urgently, that something be done.

Fred Hiatt is distressed over the United Nations’ failure to intervene to address the humanitarian disaster now underway:

But the stalemate in Burma, also known as Myanmar, shows how difficult it is to translate “responsibility to protect” into action. It’s hard to imagine a government more deserving of losing the national equivalent of its parental rights; yet it seems more likely that hundreds of thousands of people will die needlessly than that the United Nations will act.

This paragraph captures some of the incoherence of his argument. It is difficult to translate the UN’s vague commitment into action in this case – not because the UN doesn’t have its act together, but because there is not really anything it can do to force Burma to open its borders. Hiatt implies some kind of multinational force should be deployed. But this is preposterous. Even if there were willing participants, it would take weeks to organize. Even if it could be done by this Friday, the mission would be to, er, distribute aid while engaging the Burmese military and possibly overthrowing its leadership?

Anne Applebaum also comes up with nothing:

Yes, we should help the Burmese, even against the will of their irrational leaders. Yes, we should think hard about the right way to do it. And, yes, there isn’t much time to ruminate about any of this.

Lamentably, there is very little the international community can do when the rulers of a xenophobic police state decide to shut it out. Perhaps some food and supplies can be airdropped into targeted areas. But to have an impact on a disaster of this scale, you need people on the ground – lots of them – to distribute food, provide medical care and supplies, and clean up. And you need the cooperation of the local authorities. Maybe this can still be achieved. If it isn’t it will be a terrible crime. But fulminating that “something must be done” without an idea of what is just moral posturing, something that’s only gotten us into trouble in international affairs of late.

James Fallows has been watching Chinese TV news cover the Chengdu earthquake:

- The coverage included a long segment of premier Wen Jiabao reading a speech about his deep concern for the people of Sichuan, from aboard an airplane en route to the disaster scene. Background: after the country was paralyzed by unexpected snow storms in February, the leadership was criticized for a Katrina-like slowness in dealing with the problem. Prominent coverage now of the main officials responding immediately to this disaster.

He compares this to TV from Taiwan, Korea, Japan and Germany and finds it lacking in visuals and detail. But it does show that Chinese leaders do have to respond, and look like they are responding to, disasters for the sake of their own domestic standing first and foremost. Not necessarily because they care about people’s welfare, but because the system is open enough to create political problems if they fumble. One can assume that the constituency here is the growing middle and entrepreneurial classes, which are plugged into the media, strongly nationalistic, and have a lot to lose in a major disaster.

Earlier, Fallows noted the Burmese leaders’ failure to respond to the cyclone:

My wife and I have been to Burma several times over the last twenty years. The first time was in the summer of 1988, around the time of the August 8 uprising and subsequent bloody repression of monks and students. The most recent was a little more than a year ago, a few days before another bloody round of repression. Like almost everyone who has been in the country, we have viewed its regime as a peculiarly pre-modern and backward form of evil. It does not seems capable of thoroughly-organized evil and repression, as in the old Soviet system. Rather it displays a benighted, superstitious, and almost unthinking indifference to whether its people suffer and die.

A minor illustration would be the decision that effectively bankrupted many Burmese people and helped bring on riots 20 years ago. This was the out of the blue decree that most denominations of Burmese currency, except those in “lucky” denominations like 45 and 90 kyat, would be valueless. The major illustration is of course its refusal to allow relief workers from around the world to spare tens of thousands of Burmese people disease and likely death in the wake of the cyclone.

The sheer weirdness here does not lend much hope for disaster victims, nor for any end to the regime other than through violence.

Can you “disappear” a huge natural disaster with the whole world watching? This is the experiment that the government of Burma now seems to be conducting. The generals evidently have two purposes in keeping the country virtually locked down – preventing the population from being exposed to direct contact with foreign aid workers, and keeping the world from hearing too much about its own criminal non-response to the horrible aftermath of Cyclone Nargis. (The latest: Burma seized the first aid shipments, but more are on the way.)

Totalitarian states disappear things as matter of course – people, crimes, and history itself. No one knows how many died in the North Korean famine of the 1990s, though some estimates put the figure as high as 3 million. It’s hard to contemplate the horror of such events precisely because so much suffering and death occurred out of sight of the world, of history.

The combination of famine with brutal government oppression a la Kim Jong Il or Stalin, however, is a slow-moving, manmade catastrophe, easier to shield from outside eyes. A natural disaster creates a sense of global urgency. Even China in the last days of the Cultural Revolution managed to mobilize itself to respond to the 1976 Tangshan earthquake, which killed at least 250,000 people (though it refused outside aid, and Qiang Qing put things in perspective by saying, “There were merely several hundred thousand deaths. So what? Denouncing Deng Xiaoping concerns 800 million people.”)

The networked world makes it much harder to keep the lid on. Satellites see all. Giant natural disasters are prime material for 24-hour news operations. The constant gush of information ratchets up political pressure on nations and international organizations to act, and to strong-arm recalcitrant governments to do more. Journalists with satellite phones will sneak across borders. It’s not clear this will help get more aid to millions of cyclone victims, but it can’t hurt, and may make other autocrats think twice about how they respond to future disasters.

Photo: Desolate … a woman sits in front of her destroyed home in Bogalay, south-west of Rangoon. Whole streets have been destroyed in the city and water and food are scarce. (Reuters)

One additional thought on the Burma post below. I hadn’t seen much detail on conditions in Rangoon, which was directly in the path of the cyclone. Turns out things are quite bad there:

Residents of Rangoon, Burma’s largest city, faced the prospect Wednesday of weeks without electricity, a worsening drinking water shortage and spiraling food prices, even as authorities slowly began the massive task of cleaning up and repairing the city’s shattered infrastructure.

It also looks like the Burmese junta has a “Brownie” problem:

State-controlled newspapers have appealed for patience and public understanding of the difficulties now confronting the authorities. But among middle-class residents of the colonial-era former capital, anger at the Burmese military is growing. It has been perceived as slow to respond to the catastrophe, leaving citizens to fend for themselves.

“In the past, if one person came out holding a poster for a protest, dozens and dozens of soldiers and police came out in five minutes,” Ludu Sein Win, a prominent retired journalist, said in a telephone interview. “But now nobody can help us. They say we have to do everything by ourselves.”

“We have no electricity, no water,” he added. “A very big tree fell on the roof of my house, but when I told the municipal authorities, they told us we must clear it ourselves.”

When governments fail to respond to disasters because they are overwhelmed or indifferent, it sows political instability. This is another lesson in the rising risks of storms as we plunge into the 21st century. “Urban” storms will mean more infrastructure damage and a more severe economic toll. They also affect middle-class populations, and there’s no greater engine of political change worldwide than a pissed off middle class. Even (or especially) in Burma.

Human settlement is always intruding on nature, and sometimes nature intrudes right back. This week’s Burma cyclone disaster is one of the worst examples of that phenomenon in recent memory. Just look at this Washington Post map of Cyclone Nargis’s path across the Irrawaddy delta:

The storm’s eye made a beeline across the delta region, its counterclockwise winds driving storm surge tides up 13 feet. A delta, of course, is flat and wet. The sea basically rolls inland, swamping everything for miles – in this case, small fishing and rice farming communities with no flood control infrastructure at all.

This disaster is immeasurably compounded by the awfulness of the political situation – the secretive, kleptocratic Burmese regime doesn’t give a damn about such things (or, only inasmuch as they might lead to political instability). I don’t know if having Laura Bush blast the Burmese generals is productive at this point, when the most important thing is logistics. Chris Mooney has an interesting take on the cyclone here.

What worries me, though, is that as the world changes, the frequency and the character of these mega-catastrophes also changes – for the worse.

Obviously, the character of a natural disaster varies depending on where it takes place: urban or rural, the developed or underdeveloped worlds. In the United States and the developed worlds, almost all hurricane strikes are to some degree urban or suburban – the American landscape of homes, apartments, box stores, government buildings – and the population is protected by some kind of infrastructure along with evacuation policies and post-disaster aid. That minimizes loss of life but creates a moral hazard situation where we just keep rebuilding without ever reflecting on whether it’s wise to be there in the first place.

In the developing world, meanwhile, hurricane strikes are more rural – there’s considerably less infrastructure, but lots of people. So many more die. And since there wasn’t much stuff to begin with, it’s easy to rebuild. And so the same pattern repeats.

As time goes by, though, these two distinct scenarios may converge into something even more horrific. It’s the century of the megalopolis, after all. More developing countries will have populations concentrated in vulnerable, built-up areas. In rural areas, environmental degradation will reduce natural resilience to storms. There will be more people and more infrastructure, the oceans will be rising, and the pace of development will far exceed the capacity of governments to anticipate disaster. Katrina was a kind of hybrid, an urban-developed world-underdeveloped world disaster, and it may also be a model for what’s to come around the world.

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