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SoU1uiv× C.iiiov×i.

I×1iv×.1io×.i Riviiw
Volume 2, Number 1 - Spring 2012
Te Southern California International Review (SCIR) is a bi-annual interdis-
ciplinary print and online journal of scholarship in the ĕeld of international
studies generously funded by the School of International Relations at the
University of Southern California (USC). In particular, SCIR would like
to thank the Robert L. Friedheim Fund and the USC SIR Alumni Fund.
Founded in 2011, the journal seeks to foster and enhance discussion between
theoretical and policy-oriented research regarding signiĕcant global issues.
SCIR also serves as an opportunity for undergraduate students at USC to
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vides undergraduates valuable experience in the ĕelds of editing and graphic
Copyright · 2012 Southern California International Review.
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SoU1uiv× C.iiiov×i. I×1iv×.1io×.i Riviiw
Angad Singh
Assistant Editors-in-Chief:
Samir Kumar and Landry Doyle
Rashmi Rikhy
Chandni Raja
Taline Gettas
Cover Design and Layout: Samir Kumar
Dedicated to the memory of a beloved teacher and respected leader:
Robert L. Friedheim
Professor of International Relations, 1976-2001
Director of the School of International Relations, 1992-1993
1. Shalom, Y'all
Assessing the Inuence of ird-Party Mediators on Negotiation Outcomes
Landry Doyle
2. će Sounds of Silence
Explanations for the Lack of Political Participation and the Ramications for
Democracy in Russia
Lara Nichols
3. Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
Dual Citizenship, Expatriate Voting, and the Appeal of Migrant Political
Pedro Ramirez
4. će World Cup and World Order
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
Nancy Talamantes
A letter from the editor:
It is with great pleasure that I introduce the third issue of the new Southern California
International Review (SCIR). ćis bi-annual undergraduate journal based at the University
of Southern California seeks to create a unique opportunity for students to publish their
research and other academic work in order to spread their ideas to a wider audience. By fos-
tering such dialogue between students of international relations and other related ĕelds both
on campus and throughout the region, SCIR looks to promote a better understanding of
the global issues facing our world today. As our world becomes increasingly interconnected
through technology, trade, and diplomacy, it is evident that events occurring anywhere on
the globe have worldwide eČects. će need to study international relations has never been
more important and thus this journal desires to contribute unique and innovative ideas to
this fascinating and essential ĕeld of study.
In particular, I am happy to announce that this is the ĕrst issue in which SCIR accepted
article submissions from students at universities other than USC.
će pieces contained in the journal are written by undergraduate students and were
chosen by our six member editorial board. će graphics, templates, and formatting were
also done by our editorial board. In an eČort to not restrict students in their submissions,
SCIR welcomed submissions on a wide variety of topics in the realm of international studies
thereby emphasizing our commitment to interdisciplinary learning. SCIR is also available
on-line at će journal would also not be here without the
generous funding of the School of International Relations.
Lastly, SCIR would very much appreciate your feedback on this issue. Please send us
your comments, questions, and suggestions at scinternationalreview,
Angad Singh
Shalom Y’all
Assessing the Inuence of ird-Party Mediators on Negotiation
Outcomes (abridged)
Landry Doyle
Peacemaking eorts in intractable conicts rarely set high expectations for success.
e conict’s prolonged, historical nature paired with its deep psychological wounds make
it nearly impossible for leaders to adopt political solutions. Given these dicult realities, the
third-party mediators who lead peacemaking eorts are rarely held responsible for the outcome
of negotiations—the dicult circumstances are deemed to be outside of a mediator’s control.
Intrigued by the lack of consideration devoted to the third-party mediator, this study raises the
question of whether a mediator could in fact have a signicant inuence on the outcome of an
international negotiation, and if so, what factors could make some mediators more successful
than others in leading disputing parties to reach an agreement. Using comparative analysis,
this study oers an answer by evaluating the dierences between the Egyptian-Israeli nego-
tiations in 1978-9 and the Syrian-Israeli negotiations in 2000. ese two cases demonstrate
signicant similarities, and yet one reached an agreement while the other ended in failure.
While systemic, domestic, and individual analyses each attempt to explain the cases’ dier-
ing outcomes without considering the role of the mediator, these explanations are not entirely
convincing. By examining the inuence of third-party mediators, three relevant conclusions
1. A mediator who pursues a directive strategy, and has the power to enact it, is more likely
to reach an agreement than one who resorts to merely facilitative tactics.
2. A mediator who prioritizes the peace process over other national security concerns is more
likely to reach an agreement than one who does not deem the agreement to be essential to the
national interest.
3. A mediator who utilizes team members with signicant decision-making authority will be
more likely to reach an agreement than one who does not.
ese three conclusions suggest that a third-party mediator can have a signicant inuence
on the outcomes of a negotiation—one that can rival, and at times supersede, systemic, domes-
tic, or individual conditions.
1 Due to length constrictions, a literature review and a section on existing explanations were entirely removed from this draę;
the section on research methods and case selection was signiĕcantly altered. će full draę is available online at www.scinterna-
LĮĻıĿņ DļņĹIJ is a senior at the University of Southern California double-ma-
joring in International Relations and Spanish.
Landry Doyle
Peace has one thing in common with its enemy,
with the end it battles, with war—
Peace is active, not passive;
Peace is doing, not waiting;
Peace is aggressive—attacking;
Peace plans its strategy and encircles the enemy;
Peace marshals its forces and storms the gates;
Peace gathers its weapons and pierces the defense;
Peace, like war, is waged.
I. Introduction
On the week of January 3, 2000, the citizens of Shepherdstown, Pennsylvania decorated
store windows with the same peace propaganda posters used twenty years earlier to cel-
ebrate the signing of the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty. In 1979, Egypt became the ĕrst state
to establish bilateral peace with Israel, and in 2000, as Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak
and Syrian Foreign Minister Farouk al-Sharaa traveled to Shepherdstown to engage in an
unprecedented level of negotiations, the international community could not resist the urge
to hope for a similar outcome. će 1978 Camp David Summit led to the Egyptian-Israeli
peace treaty and was the ¨yardstick" against which all other mediation eČorts would be mea-
sured. Shepherdstown shared a particularly ¨eerie resemblance" with Camp David, and as
the New York Times reported, comparing and contrasting the two was ¨inevitable, because
parallels [were] so explicit."
Nonetheless as spectators evaluated the many similarities and
diČerences between the two cases-the historical context, the issues to be negotiated, the
prospect of success-there seemed to be one factor that escaped public scrutiny-the iden-
tity of the mediator himself. It is possible the role of the mediator was disregarded as being
insigniĕcant in comparison to the factors surrounding the negotiating parties or that the
mediators -Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton-were viewed to be so similar that a comparison
was not deemed to be of merit.
Unfortunately the Shepherdstown negotiations, and the Geneva summit which fol-
lowed it, failed to achieve an agreement between Syria and Israel, and, in attempt to interpret
the event's failure, comparisons to the Camp David Summit resurfaced. Again, diČerences
between the negotiating parties-their leaders, their domestic politics, and their position
within the international system-dominated the discourse. Each of these explanations has
merit, yet none is fully convincing. Intrigued by the lack of consideration devoted to the
2 Deborah Sontag, ¨You Need Good Glasses; Looking for Camp David on the Map of Shepherdstown," New York Times, Janu-
ary 9, 2000.
Shalom Y’all
third-party mediator, this study raises the question of whether this variable could have a
signiĕcant inĘuence on the outcome of an international negotiation, and if so, what factors
could make some mediators more successful than others in leading disputing parties to
reach an agreement.
II. Research Methods and Selection of Cases
ćis is a comparative case study that utilizes a method of diČerence framework. To suc-
ceed in this eČort, two cases must be selected that are similar in many respects but neverthe-
less have diČering outcomes. će strength of a comparative study is entirely dependent on
case selection; cases must have convincingly signiĕcant similarities. Although no two cases
are identical, the negotiations between Israel and Egypt, mediated by US President Jimmy
Carter in 1978-79, and the negotiations between Israel and Syria, mediated by US President
Bill Clinton in 2000, oČer a remarkably strong comparison. ćis study does not intend to
provide a complete account of all events surrounding either of the cases, but rather to simply
consider and weigh the systemic, domestic, and individual level factors that may have con-
tributed to the negotiations' outcome.
Case One: Camp David Negotiations 1978-1979
While there is no way to brieĘy summarize a history between two nations that have
been tenuous neighbors for thousands of years, this study is generally concerned with the
period following the Six-Day War ending June 10, 1967, aęer which Israel took control of the
Sinai Peninsula. In response to the Six-Day War, the United Nations Security Council issued
Resolution 242, which remains the primary international statement on the Arab-Israeli con-
Ęict. Resolution 242 calls on Arab states to recognize Israel's right to existence, while requir-
ing Israel to withdraw from territories acquired through war.
Since the UN ĕrst articulated
this ¨territory for peace" solution, it proved to be a challenging concept. However, Egypt was
the ĕrst state to adopt its precepts, albeit warily. Egypt was adamant about recovering its lost
land, and aęer a disappointing performance in the 1973 Yom Kippur War that exposed its
insuďcient military capabilities, it ĕnally seemed willing to give the ¨land for peace" strategy
a chance. Under the guidance of US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger's ¨shuttle diplomacy,"
Egypt and Israel signed the Sinai II agreement in 1973, in which both states pledged to use
diplomatic means to resolve the conĘict with Israel. While this major development seemed
to suggest that the two states were well on their way to full peace, it was also evident that both
parties had drastically diČerent views on what a peace could look like. Additionally, deep
distrust between the parties prevented them from negotiating directly, and throughout the
3 će comparison of systemic and domestic factors is not provided in the abridged version of this work.
4 će full text to U.N. Resolution 242 is available in William B. Quandt's, Camp David: Peacemaking and Politics (Washington,
DC: će Brookings Institution, 1986), 341-2.
Landry Doyle
period the United States established itself as the only mediating party with the relationships
and the leverage to advance Arab-Israeli relations.
Although the US put the Middle East on hold during the 1976 election, the new Carter
Administration was eager to return to the cause. će Carter Administration ĕrst sought to
achieve a comprehensive peace that would address all of the signiĕcant outstanding issues
in the region. Intending to draw from the successful 1973 Geneva conference, Carter tried
to establish another multilateral Geneva conference, in which all major players in the region
would negotiate alongside the United States and the Soviet Union. ćis strategic framework
collapsed as almost all parties disagreed over the general principles of a potential solution,
the appropriate process of negotiations, and the participation of a Palestinian delegation.
Just as prospects for improvement seemed dim, Egyptian President Anwar Sadat made
a surprising and unprecedented move by volunteering to travel to Jerusalem and speak di-
rectly with the Israeli Knesset. Sadat was the ĕrst Arab leader to oďcially visit Israel, and
although his speech articulated his longstanding position, the visit broke down signiĕcant
psychological barriers between the two nations. About a month aęer Sadat's visit to Israel,
Begin traveled to Ismailiya, Egypt to engage in direct negotiations with Sadat. In their ĕrst
attempt at direct negotiation, the two heads of state leę with drastically diČering accounts
of the outcomes. According to the Israelis, Sadat was on the verge of accepting Israeli pro-
posals, and if it hadn't been for his hard-line advisers, would have done so. Sadat however
claims to have leę the meetings feeling disillusioned by Begin's ¨ridiculous position." At one
point when Begin suggested maintaining settlements in the Sinai Peninsula, Sadat actually
thought it was a joke. Overall the Egyptians leę believing that the Israelis were still unpre-
pared to accept Egyptian sovereignty over the Sinai.
On January 3, 1978, Israel began work
on four new settlements in the Sinai, which angered Egyptians and Americans, who both
thought Israel had committed to freezing settlements.
While direct relations between Sadat and Begin seemed to hit an impasse, the Carter
Administration became more active in communicating with each side, working to under-
stand each side's proposals and trying to draw concessions to create a foundation for future
agreement. On June 30, 1978, Carter was ready for bolder action and issued letters to Begin
and Sadat inviting them to a formal summit. će Camp David Summit became a thirteen-
day negotiation, held from September 3, 1978 to September 17, 1978. President Carter and
his team mediated the negotiations, which were largely secluded from any media presence.
While the mediations were trilateral, Begin and Sadat only met directly on the ĕrst and
ĕnal days of the summit. će main issues of contention were Israel's settlements, oilĕelds,
and military bases remaining in the Sinai Peninsula and the question of ¨linkage," or to
3 Ibid., 3.
6 William B. Quandt, Peace Process: American Diplomacy and the Arab-Israeli Conict since 1967 (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 2001), 193; Jimmy Carter, White House Diary (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2010), 169.
Shalom Y’all
what degree a Palestinian solution should accompany a bilateral Egyptian-Israeli peace
agreement. Carter's team shaped both of the resulting agreements: ¨A Framework for the
Conclusion of a Peace Treaty between Egypt and Israel," and ¨A Framework for Peace in the
Middle East."
In the months following Camp David, each party confronted political problems, and
rather than quickly concluding the negotiations by signing a formal treaty, the process
reached an impasse. By the end of 1978, prospects for peace seemed dim.
Carter reentered
the negotiations, ramped up US ĕnancial and military assistance to each state, and conceded
loose linkage by allowing a weak and ambiguous statement on Palestinian peace. Eventually
a formal Egyptian-Israeli agreement was signed on March 26, 1979, guaranteeing the full
return and demilitarization of the Sinai Peninsula and the normalization of relations be-
tween Israel and Egypt. ćirty years later the agreement remains unviolated.
Case Two: Shepherdstown and Geneva Negotiations 1999-2000
će history of issues on the Syrian-Israeli border are remarkably similar to those of
the Egyptian-Israeli border. Much like the Sinai Peninsula, the Israelis invaded Syria's
Golan Heights during the Six-Day war in 1967 and have ruled over the territory ever since.
Although the Syrians tried to retake the land during the Yom Kippur War in 1973, they were
ultimately unsuccessful and instead signed a disengagement agreement, forged by Henry
Kissinger, agreeing to a ceaseĕre that continues to be enforced today. Under the auspices of
UN Resolution 242, the Syrians believe the Golan territory is rightfully theirs, and they have
refused to establish peaceful relations with Israel until every last inch of it is returned. Led
by Prime Minister Hafez al-Asad, Syria criticized Egypt's ¨land for peace" deal with Israel
in 1978 and saw Sadat's move as a betrayal of the Arab world. As Syria held strongly to its
commitment to Pan-Arab nationalism, prospects of involving Asad in the peace process
seemed dim throughout the 1980s. However, the 1990s opened a new chapter of hope on
the Syrian front. Aęer Saddam Hussein's forces invaded Kuwait in 1990, Syria joined the
US-led UN coalition in the Persian Gulf War and aęerwards agreed to participate in the
1991 Madrid Conference. Despite Syria's advance towards peace, the Israelis, led by Prime
Minister Yitzhak Shamir, were only interested in ¨peace for peace" agreements, refusing
to give up the territory Syria clearly sought. However, when Labor-party reformer Yitzhak
Rabin took oďce in 1992, peace on the Syrian front ĕnally seemed attainable. Rabin un-
derstood that peace with Syria would require full withdraw from the Golan Heights and
7 Quandt, Camp, 222.
8 Admittedly, the relationship between Egypt and Israel remains a ¨cold peace," yet the terms of the treaty have been upheld
even as Egypt undergoes democratic transition. In September of 2011, protestors in Cairo invaded the Israeli embassy, leading
many to question the stability of the Israeli-Egyptian relationship; however, no signiĕcant damage was done and Egyptian leader-
ship expressed its continued commitment to maintaining peace with Israel.
Landry Doyle
pledged to ¨withdraw fully from the Golan Heights provided Israel's [security] needs were
met and provided Syria's agreement was not contingent on any other agreement-such as
an agreement between the Palestinians and the Israelis."
ćis pledge became known as the
¨Rabin deposit," as it was a conĕdential commitment made to US negotiators to be presented
to Syrian leadership. Although Secretary of State Warren Christopher communicated the
oČer to the Syrians, little was done to prioritize movement on the Syrian track. Instead, at-
tention went to the Palestinians who were simultaneously negotiating the Oslo Accords to
be signed in 1993. Shortly aęer Oslo, a peace agreement with Jordan was signed in October
of 1994.
During this period Secretary Christopher continued to meet with Rabin to discuss the
Syrian track. On July 18, 1994, Rabin reconĕrmed his previous commitment and speciĕed it
further to meet Asad's demands. According to the long-held Syrian position, full withdraw
required a withdraw to the June 4, 1967 line-the line that divided Israeli and Syrian forces
on the eve of the Six-Day War. According to Ross and Christopher's accounts of their meet-
ing, Rabin agreed to withdraw to the June 4th line under the condition that security needs
were met.
ćis major breakthrough led to an ¨aims and principles" non-paper that began
outlining security arrangements. Although various obstacles arose during this time, forward
progress was evident. With an election approaching Rabin decided to put the Syrian track
on pause, as talk of possible concessions could be controversial to his campaign.
In November of 1993, aęer speaking at a peace rally meant to promote the Oslo Accords,
Rabin was assassinated by a right-winged Israeli extremist. His death shocked the interna-
tional community and increased domestic support for Rabin's commitment to peace, giving
Shimon Peres, Rabin's successor as Prime Minister, tremendous momentum to move nego-
tiations forward. Upon entering oďce Peres was unaware of the commitments Rabin had
made on the Syrian front and was surprised in particular by the promise to withdraw to the
June 4th line; nevertheless, he told President Clinton he would aďrm any commitments
¨Yitzak [had] made."
Peres' team made progress on the Syrian track through meetings at
the Wye River Plantation outside of Washington; however, as the third round of Wye talks
began in February of 1996, a series of terrorist attacks in Israel-four suicide bombings
in nine days-led Peres to suspend the negotiating process. će political climate in Israel
drastically changed, and in May's national election Benjamin Netanyahu, a right-wing Likud
leader, defeated Peres, ending hope of realizing Rabin's vision for peace. Netanyahu's term
leę little room for progress, and while some attention was given to peace on the Palestinian
front, little was done to address Syria. In 1999 Israel elected Ehud Barak, a protégé of Rabin,
9 Ross, 111.
10 Although there are various interpretations of this line, the Syrians believe it to be a line speciĕcally demarcated by UN truce
11 Ross, 212.
Shalom Y’all
to replace Netanyahu. Clinton's Administration had supported Barak's campaign and was
particularly encouraged by Barak's willingness to make historic strides in the direction of
peace-especially on the Syrian front.
Aęer months of preparatory talks, Syria and Israel agreed to convene intensive high-
level negotiations at Shepherdstown, West Virginia on January 3, 2000. While Barak had not
yet conĕrmed a commitment to the Rabin deposit, he had alluded to it and was expected
to deliver it. Hafez al-Asad, whose health was beginning to decline, did not attend the ne-
gotiations and sent Foreign Minister Farouk Shara on his behalf. Previously Asad had been
unwilling to send senior-level oďcials to negotiations without preconditions, thus sending
Shara was a notable concession.
However, some Israelis interpreted Asad's absence as a
sign that Shepherdstown would not be the ĕnal round of negotiations. Additionally, Israeli
domestic pressures had increased in the preceding weeks. Former Defense Minister Ariel
Sharon publically labeled the Rabin deposit as a ¨dangerous" proposition, and Barak's own
coalition seemed weary of giving up any territory.
With these fears in mind, Barak pri-
vately told US Ambassador to Israel Martin Indyk in mid-December of 1999 that due to the
change in his political circumstances, he would be unable to deliver the deposit.
Barak's trepidation, the American team still believed Shepherdstown would produce an
agreement, or at least make large strides in that direction. Shara made several concessions
during the round to demonstrate Syria's conciliatory posture; nonetheless, Barak did not
show Ęexibility on any territorial issues, oČering nothing to the Syrian delegation. Aęer
four days of negotiation, the American team put forth a proposal describing Israel's posi-
tion but used bracketed language to identify the Syrian position. će draę did not put forth
independent proposals and according to Ross, ¨reĘected the reality of the Syrians agreeing
on the principles of peace and the Israelis not accepting June 4 as the border."
Aęer tabling
the draę, the negotiations were suspended for the weekend; however, before reconvening,
the draę was leaked to the Israeli press. Arabs were immediately outraged by the degree of
concessions Syria had agreed to without being promised anything in return. Before leaving
Shepherdstown, Shara directly asked Barak if he would conĕrm the Rabin deposit. Barak
responded with only a dubious smile.
će round of talks quickly concluded, and Clinton's
team was leę to clean up the disaster. Although it is unclear what Clinton communicated to
Asad in the following days, it was evident that Asad felt betrayed and exposed and was weary
12 Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating Blame: US Mediation of the Arab-Israeli ConĘict from 1999 to 2001" (M.A. thesis,
Georgetown University, 2003), 6910
13 Ariel Sharon, ¨Why Should Israel Reward Syria:" New York Times, December 28, 1999, Op-ed.
14 Martin Indyk, Innocent Abroad: An Intimate Account of American Peace Diplomacy in the Middle East (New York: Simon
and Schuster, 2009), 231.
13 Ross, 339.
16 Indyk, 262-3.
Landry Doyle
to continue talks. Nonetheless, the US team continued communication with both parties.
Barak encouraged Clinton to organize a meeting with Asad, and Clinton agreed, believing
that Barak would ĕnally communicate an acceptable position.
Asad agreed, and the two met in Geneva on March 26th. Barak spoke with Clinton
on the morning of the 26th to deliver his ĕnal position, which demonstrated concessions
but only acknowledged withdraw to a ¨commonly agreed border" rather than fully aďrm-
ing the June 4th line.
Upon hearing the proposal, Asad immediately voiced his disin-
terest. Although the American delegation thought the proposal presented a fair solution,
Asad would not agree to territorial tradeoČs of any kind, and the Geneva summit ended
in failure only hours aęer it began. Clinton later described his disappointment: ¨In less
than four years, I had seen the prospects of peace between Israel and Syria dashed three
times: by terror in Israel and Peres' defeat in 1996, by the Israeli rebuČ of Syrian overtures
at Shepherdstown, and by Asad's preoccupations with his own mortality. Aęer we parted in
Geneva, I never saw Asad again."
ćroughout his presidency a peace agreement between
Israel and Syria seemed to be within reach; however, in the end, disagreement over a few
hundred meters made the diČerence between peace and continued conĘict. Little serious
progress has been made on the Syrian front since.
III. e Individual Mediator
In 1991, Jacob Bercovitch, a leading academic voice in conĘict and mediation stud-
ies established original data sets quantifying the variables that aČect mediation success.

His study considered multi-level variables such as the characteristics of the involved par-
ties, balance of power, nature of the dispute, and the duration of the conĘict. In regards
to Bercovitch's variables, these two cases have several signiĕcant similarities (although the
degree of similarity varies): the type/nature of issues in conĘict, the importance of the dis-
pute to each party, the relationship between the disputing parties, the international status
of the parties, the parties' acceptance of mediation and general commitment to settlement,
the degree of control over the process that parties and the mediator have, the expediency of
the mediation process, the environmental context of mediation, the expected likelihood of
reaching a satisfactory outcome, and the rank of the mediator.
će ĕnal variable Bercovitch identiĕes is the mediator's identity, skill, and strategy,
which he argues can be ¨the most crucial variable aČecting mediation outcomes."
study will argue that this variable does reveal the primary diČerence between these two
17 Quandt, Peace Process, 363.
18 Bill Clinton, My Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2004), 903.
19 Jacob Bercovitch, Jacob, J. ćeodore Anagnoson, and Donnette L. Wille, ¨Some Conceptual Issues and Empirical Trends in
the Study of Successful Mediation in International Relations," Journal of Peace Research 28, no. 1 (1991): 16.
20 Jacob Bercovitch, ¨Understanding Mediation's Role in Preventive Diplomacy," Negotiation Journal (July 1996): 234.
Shalom Y’all
cases. Although mediators are oęen ignored, their strategic role, and the way in which it is
utilized, does seem to account for the enduring shortcomings of the previous three expla-
Ironically, a comparison between these two particular mediators, Jimmy Carter
and Bill Clinton, is oęen overlooked because the two men have so many similarities. Both
were in the same position of authority as presidents of the United States, and both were
Democrats, Southerners, and optimists marked by their wit and sense of humor. Apart from
their similar authority and personal histories, both Carter and Clinton had unique personal
commitments to the Middle East-developing positive relationships with leaders, gaining
popularity amongst citizens (although Carter more so with the Arabs and Clinton more so
with the Israelis), and demonstrating impressive understanding of the region's complex his-
tory and current conditions. In addition, both mediators entered the process in uniquely
¨ripe" times for negotiation, where all parties had notable beneĕts to be gained.
despite the region being entrenched with controversy, both Carter and Clinton displayed
considerable impartiality. Although speciĕc members of Clinton's team may have been less
impartial, Clinton himself was greeted with praise in both Gaza and Jerusalem, demonstrat-
ing his ability to empathize with both sides. Despite these signiĕcant similarities, a critical
analysis comparing these two mediators yields three signiĕcant diČerences that may hold
causal inĘuence on the negotiation's outcome:
Mediation Strategy-the extent to which the mediator played an active or passive role
in the negotiations.
Mediator's Prioritization of the Negotiations-whether the mediator saw the negotia-
tion to be a priority to his administration and of importance to advancing the national
Mediator's Use of Negotiating Team-the extent to which the mediator utilized team
members eČectively and maintained the group's cohesion.
Assessing each of these diČerences requires comprehensive analysis, considering mul-
tiple perspectives and interpretations. ćis qualitative study proposes signiĕcant, but by no
means binding, evaluations suggesting that, while some variables may possess greater in-
Ęuence, each contributed to the mediator's eČectiveness and ultimately to the negotiation's
21 Due to length constraints, these existing explanations were not provided in the abridged version of this thesis.
22 While scholars debate how ¨ripeness" should be determined or deĕned, previous sections of this paper demonstrate the
beneĕts to be gained through agreement for each of the negotiating parties. ćus, while this claim is indeed debatable, this study
does not seek to further substantiate it. For further explanation see Asaf Siniver, ¨Power, Impartiality, and Timing: ćree Hypoth-
eses on ćird Party Mediation in the Middle East," Political Studies 34 (2006): 806-26, although this article does not include
discussion of the Syrian case.
Landry Doyle
IV. Variable One: Mediation Strategy
će ĕrst relevant diČerence between the third party mediators in these two cases is
their mediation strategy. While Carter chose to directly shape the negotiations as an active,
or directive mediator, Clinton allowed the negotiating parties to shape the process and slid
into a more passive, facilitative role. As Zartman and Touval's study suggests, a more active
mediator is more likely to succeed, especially if he is in a powerful position that provides
the resources to enforce his proposals. As Bercovtich concludes, ¨Mediation strategies that
can prod the adversaries, and strategies that allow mediators to introduce new issues, sug-
gest new ways of seeing the dispute, or alter the motivational structure of the parties, are
more positively associated with successful outcomes than any other type of intervention."
1. Carter succeeds as a directive facilitator intending to shape the negotiation process
and outcome
1.1 Carter’s problem-solving style preferred detail-oriented, comprehensive prepara-
First, President Carter's background, interests, and political style bolstered his ability
to engage directly in the negotiation process. Carter had a general inclination to be directly
involved in any issue he deemed to be of importance. At times he developed a reputation as
a micromanager, but his habitual attention to detail served him well as a mediator. With a
background in engineering, rather than politics, Carter was trained to understand complex-
ity, planning, and comprehensive design. ćis ability to comprehend intricate relationships
gave him a strong edge as a tactical bargainer.
Overall, Carter was a problem-solver at
heart, and he would not be deterred by a diďcult situation. In fact some in his administra-
tion suggest that he was actually most compelled to tackle challenging issues that no one
else had been able to solve.
In many regards Carter's personal morality colored his entire
approach to foreign policy-he was an idealist, who believed that with commitment and
creativity, problems could be solved through cooperation.
In addition to his commitment
to detailed problem-solving, Carter also thrived in smaller groups, much like the setting
encountered at Camp David. Carter was not a skilled orator and oęen fell Ęat on the public
stage, but in smaller groups he was able to build trust through personal interaction.

23 Bercovitch, Anagnoson, and Wille, 16.
24 Telhami, Power, 179.
23 Quandt, Camp, 131; Quandt, Peace Process, 177.
26 Telhami, Power, 179-80.
27 Quandt, Camp, 31.
Shalom Y’all
1.2 Carter proactively initiates a risky summit negotiation
Second, Carter was proactive in taking a risk to initiate a summit negotiation, although
the prospects for success seemed dim. Initially, Carter wanted to pursue a multilateral strat-
egy to address comprehensive peace in the Middle East that even included the Soviet Union;
however, when his strategy for a meeting in Geneva fell apart, he chose to boldly change
course. Aęer Begin and Sadat's tragic failure at Ismailia, Sadat publically rejected continuing
the negotiations. In response, Carter recognized that a ¨more active and forceful" approach
was necessary and decided that the only solution, ¨as dismal and unpleasant as the prospect
seemed," was to bring Sadat and Begin together for an extensive negotiating session.
¨We [understood] the political pitfalls involved, but the situation [was] getting
into an extreme state...ćis decision would prove to be a turning point in our eČort to
remove the only serious military threat to Israel's existence, and to provide a blueprint
for peace in the Middle East. At the time, prospects for progress were dismal...I
was fairly conĕdent that Sadat would cooperate with me, but I had no idea how Begin
would react to my invitation."

Carter's only certainty was that Begin and Sadat would get nowhere on their own. će
two men's previous attempts at direct negotiation were fruitless, and their personal incom-
patibilities prevented them from compromise. However aęer making the decision to con-
vene the summit, the Administration still had to decide what issues would be addressed and
what form the negotiating process would take.
Given the initially low prospects of success, Carter's advisers tended to be cautious in
setting goals and prepared to rationalize failure.
Although Carter recognized the impor-
tance of minimizing expectations, he was more interested in pursuing substantive ideas. By
garnering international attention and support from the world's political and religious lead-
ers, he tried to impress on Sadat and Begin the importance of entering the negotiations with
a willingness to make concessions.
Finally, once beginning negotiations Carter shaped the
process by determining when leaders would meet, when proposals would be issued, who
would be consulted before issuing proposals and also by emphasizing the beneĕts of peace
and the risks of failure.
Few envisioned reaching an oďcial agreement and suggested that
the summit instead end in a more general agreement on principles. However, Carter was
28 Carter, White, 168; Carter, Keeping, 323.
29 Carter, White, 210.
30 Carter, Keeping, 328.
31 Ibid., 324.
32 Quandt, Camp, 218.
Landry Doyle
determined to work out the details and personally assume the risk that accompanied such
an individual level eČort.
1.3 Carter places no time constraints on negotiation and devotes his full attention
ćird, in addition to the risk associated with convening a summit, Carter assumed
an additional risk by placing no time constraints on the process and by devoting two full
weeks to the negotiations. ćroughout his presidency Carter demonstrated an unrivaled
commitment to the Middle East peace process, but almost nothing illustrates this fact more
than the sheer time devoted to the Camp David Summit itself. ćirteen days secluded from
the press, other domestic and international issues, and vital presidential responsibilities,
Carter adamantly refused to put time limits on the negotiations in order to demonstrate his
commitment to reaching an agreement. While the depth of his focus undoubtedly diverted
attention from other important issues, Carter recognized that this is oęen the only way
to reach success in the Middle East as the highly personalized political-culture requires a
strong degree of direct negotiation between leaders.
1.4 Carter develops a profound understanding of both negotiating parties
Fourth, Carter was active in acquiring a personal understanding of both Begin and
Sadat. će two men diČered drastically in both personality and negotiation strategy, thus
his extensive eČorts to reconcile the two further demonstrates his commitment to directing
both parties to make concessions. Although Carter had developed a strong rapport with
both Begin and Sadat before the summit, his team provided psychological brieĕng books
that addressed how each leader could be expected to negotiate. će primary diČerence be-
tween Begin and Sadat was how they acted under pressure. While Sadat tended to generalize
about proposals and over-arching goals, Begin paid close attention to semantics and would
haggle over the meaning of individual words.
Carter committed to studying how best to
accommodate and communicate with each leader, and he was adept in responding to each of
these strategies as his inner-engineer could navigate intricacies for Begin, while his idealism
reassured Sadat's insistence on the broader picture. When Sadat threatened to leave Camp
David without concluding negotiations, Carter used his strong relationship and strategic
understanding of Sadat's interests to convince him to stay. Carter writes:
¨Vance walked in with his face white, saying that Sadat had decided to withdraw com-
pletely from the negotiations and leave Camp David. Sadat had abruptly decided that
33 Kenneth W. Stein and Samuel W. Lewis, ¨Mediation in the Middle East," in Managing Global Chaos: Sources of and Re-
sponses to International Conict, ed. Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson, and Pamela Aall (Washington, DC: United States
Institute of Peace, 1996), 467.
34 Carter, White, 213.
Shalom Y’all
our discussions would never yield an acceptable agreement and asked for a helicopter
to take him to the airport in Washington. ćis was one of the worst moments of my
life, I went to my bedroom, knelt down, and prayed, and-for some reason-decided
to change from my sports shirt and jeans to a suit and tie. I went immediately to
see Sadat...I explained to him the serious consequences of his breaking oČ the negotia-
tions: it would damage severely the relationship between the United States and Egypt
and between him and me; he would violate his word of honor to me-the basis on which
Sadat and Begin had been invited to Camp David...I told him he had to stick with me...
He was shaken by what I said, because I have never been more serious in my life.

Carter understood that Sadat valued their close friendship and hoped it would increase
the partnership between Egypt and the United States. By emphasizing the long-term conse-
quences ending the summit would have on this relationship both personally and politically,
Carter was able to seize Sadat's greatest fear and leverage it to save the negotiating process.
1.5 Carter sees himself as an active negotiator
Fięh, Carter himself deĕned his role as a ¨mediator and active negotiator."
Sadat encouraged the Americans to be a ¨full partner" in the negotiations in order to actively
create independent proposals; the Israelis, however, preferred the US to take on a more sym-
bolic role as a bridge builder between the two parties. In response to these opposing views,
Carter did describe his role as a ¨full partner," but on the condition that he would not try
to ¨impose the will of the United States on others," but instead search ¨for common ground
on which agreements [could] be reached."
ćus, Carter chose to maintain his role as a
mediator, but chose an active strategy that did advance independent proposals. In fact, the
Israelis oęen accused the American team of being too active in the negotiations, especially
when Carter took the Egyptian position towards the Sinai settlements.
Additionally, given
Sadat's disdain for details and trust in Carter, Sadat essentially gave the American President
the authority and Ęexibility to negotiate on Egypt's behalf.
ćus, Carter actively wielded
his inĘuence as the leader of the United States to encourage concessions from both sides. As
William Quandt recognizes, ¨Power is at the core of negotiations," and Carter was skilled in
blending pressures and incentives to arrive at a ĕnal agreement.
33 Ibid., 237.
36 Carter, Keeping, 331.
37 Brzezinski, 234.
38 Telhami, Power, 130.
39 Carter, White, 300.
40 Quandt, Camp, 336.
Landry Doyle
1.6 Carter advances a bold American position
Sixth, in addition to advancing bold and fair American proposals, Carter was person-
ally responsible for draęing the Sinai agreement. Before beginning the summit, there was
much discussion of whether the US would advance its own proposals, and many in Carter's
Administration advocated only advancing American ideas ¨if it [was] necessary to over-
come obstacles."
However, Carter seemed to be interested in constructing a solution from
the onset. Soon aęer taking oďce he wrote that his Middle East strategy was to, ¨put as much
pressure as [he could] on the diČerent parties to accept the solution that [the US thought
was] fair."
Additionally, once constructing the process for the summit, Carter was clear
that, while he would consult transparently with both sides, the American team ¨reserved the
right and had the duty" to introduce a position of compromise.
Aęer directly shaping the
negotiating technique that would require both sides to negotiate from a single-text, Carter
and his team would draę proposals and discuss them with each side separately.
će most
impressive aspect of this technique is the extreme amount of personal involvement Carter
had in developing these draęs. While the American team collectively wrote twenty-three
draęs of the ¨Framework for Peace in the Middle East," Carter handled the Sinai proposal,
which required eight draęs, on his own.
ćis strategy proved imperative to the success of
the summit. For both Egypt and Israel, it was much easier to accept American proposals,
rather than making concessions directly to each other.
Direct negotiations played a very
small role in the Camp David Accords, which not only gave Carter and his team an enor-
mous responsibility, but also a crucial power to shape both the process and substance of the
1.7 Carter sees the agreement through to its completion
Finally, aęer concluding the summit, Cater continued to be active in following the
agreement until its completion as an oďcial peace treaty. ćis proved to be more diďcult
than originally expected as Begin reneged on previous commitments, especially in regards
to the language on Palestinian autonomy. Nonetheless, Carter was willing to intercede di-
rectly as the process seemed to hit a stalemate. He traveled to both Egypt and Israel and
introduced new statements, including guarantees of US military aid and ĕnancial assistance
41 ¨Brieĕng Book for President Carter at Camp David, August 1978," September 17, 1978,
Books/peace_process.aspx, 4.
42 Carter, White, 44.
43 Ibid., 217.
44 Carter, Keeping, 406.
43 Carter, Keeping, 331; Quandt, Camp, 232.
46 Quandt, Camp, 238; Cyrus Vance, Hard Choices: Critical Years in America’s Foreign Policy (New York: Simon and Schuster,
1983), 173.
Shalom Y’all
as well as commitments to act if the agreements were violated in the future.
Carter main-
tained an active role for nearly eighteen months of negotiation until an agreement was ĕ-
nally signed on March 26, 1979.
Although the demands of the presidency could have limited Carter's role, his interest
in detailed problem-solving, his willingness to convene and devote tremendous time and
energy to a risky summit negotiation, his profound understanding of both Begin and Sadat,
and his leadership in advancing proposals demonstrate his active role as the architect of
the Camp David Accords. As Brzezinski describes, ¨ćis was indeed [Carter's] success. He
was the one that gave it the impetus, the extra eČort, and the sense of direction."
Quandt echoes these conclusions:
Carter ¨played the role of draęsman, strategist, therapist, friend, adversary, and media-
tor. He deserved much of the credit for the success, and he bore the blame for some
of the shortcomings. He had acted both as a statesman, in pressing for the historic
agreement, and as a politician, in settling for the attainable and thinking at times of
short-term gains rather than long-term consequences. In many ways the thirteen days
at Camp David showed Carter at his best. He was sincere in his desire for peace in the
Middle East, and he was prepared to work long hours to reach that goal. His optimism
and belief in the good qualities of both Sadat and Begin were reĘections of a deep faith
that kept him going against long odds. His mastery of detail was oęen impressive. And
he was stubborn. He did not want to fail."
1. Clinton slides into a more communicative role and refuses bold, shaping action
1.1 Clinton’s problem-solving style is centered on his superb political abilities
First, Clinton's personal and political style hindered his negotiation strategy. In many
ways Clinton shared the optimism and belief in cooperative negotiating that were integral
to Carter's success. He also shared Carter's personal interest in the Middle East peacemak-
ing, which he demonstrated by being the ĕrst President to travel to Gaza, and the ĕrst since
Nixon to visit President Asad in Damascus. However despite shared interest and optimism,
two traits separate Clinton from Carter. First, Clinton was much more of a politician. Many
consider Clinton to be ¨one of the greatest political minds of a generation," winning seven
out of eight elections and serving twenty-one years in public oďce.
President Clinton
47 Carter, White, 299.
48 Brzezinski, 270-1.
49 Quandt, Camp, 237-8.
30 Joe Lockhart, Press Secretary to President Clinton, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 303. Carter contrast-
ingly served only twelve years in public oďce, winning four out of six elections, winning reelection only once as State Senator.
Landry Doyle
understood the domestic political situations the negotiating parties had to deal with. In par-
ticular, Clinton exerted tremendous eČort and resources to get Barak elected, even sending
his own political strategists Robert Shurm, Stanley Greenberg, and James Carville to aid in
the campaign.
Clinton was uniquely tied to Barak's domestic political situation. Clinton the
politician also had the ability to reach across barriers and appeal to both sides in a conĘict;
however, this also caused him to ¨portray positions as more Ęexible than they really were,"
hoping that he would be able to charm his way past the details.

će second important diČerence between the two US Presidents is Clinton's intellectual
approach to problem solving. Clinton's knack for politics was aided by his incredible intel-
ligence, and multiple staČ members describe Clinton's mind as a ¨sponge" with a tremen-
dous capacity to quickly absorb detailed information.
Although he shared Carter's ability
to comprehend detail, he did not micromanage like Carter nor emphasize highly complex,
structured problem solving.
Rather, Clinton was a macro-level persuasion artist who used
his ability to understand detail only as it beneĕtted his overarching vision. Some argue that
Clinton may have become over-reliant on his intellectual ability and political savvy by failing
to prepare adequately. While Carter refers to months of studying, William Quandt equates
Clinton's approach to preparation as ¨pulling an all-nighter."
While Clinton did have an
incredible ability to hear both sides and empathize with each of them, Clinton was not one
to get involved with substance. As Quandt notes:
¨ćose who knew Clinton best would frequently argue that his strengths and weak-
nesses were inseparable. He was intelligent, but not focused; personable, but not loyal;
politically skillful, but deeply self-centered; Ęexible, but without a solid core of convic-
tion...He had a deep need for recognition and success; was inclined toward compromise
rather than principled stands; and was skillful with words and relationships to build
broad coalitions of support for himself and his policies."

Clinton preferred to be a politician with a talent for getting opposing sides to talk to
each other. Both Barak and Asad considered him to be trustworthy and committed to the
31 Indyk, 263.
32 Quandt, Peace Process, 379.
33 Ross, 631; Maria Echaveste, Deputy Chief of StaČ to President Clinton, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating,"
34 Samuel Lewis, former US Ambassador to Israel, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 426.
33 Swisher, ¨Investigating," 178.
36 Quandt, Peace Process, 379.
Shalom Y’all
process, but seeing everything from a political lens may have hindered his ability to objec-
tively push for a solution.
1.2 Clinton articulates a passive approach to the peace process throughout his term
Second, in addition to Clinton's political mindset and improvised approach to problem
solving, his Administration was hesitant to lead the Middle East peace process in general.
će Clinton Administration lived by the motto, ¨we cannot want peace more than the par-
ties do."
ćis articulates a passive approach that refuses to take the reins. Obviously this
does not mean that Clinton did not want to play an important role in the peace process,
indeed his record shows that his administration was involved in the Middle East peace
process throughout his presidency; however, it does suggest that his posture was purely
responsive to the wills of the negotiating parties. Clinton's record in the region substanti-
ates this claim: he played almost no role in developing the Oslo Accords, the Wye River
Memorandum was never implemented, the Syrian-track negotiations failed, and the 2000
Camp David Summit also failed. ćis is not to suggest that the issues were easy to address,
but for as much involvement as Clinton had, it is notable that in the end, he had little to show
for his eČorts, especially at the height of US' international prestige when the most leverage
was available to shape the process and outcomes.
1.3 Clinton does not prepare adequately for Shepherdstown and does not give the
summit his full attention
ćird, the Clinton Administration's general hesitancy to direct the peace process was
speciĕcally evident during the Shepherdstown negotiations, as the process lacked strategic
preparation. First, members of Clinton's administration admit a general lack of structure,
even calling the process ¨loosy-goosy."
Others echo a general sense of mismanagement and
insuďcient preparation, and Clinton himself referred to his role as merely ¨dragging a com-
promise over the ĕnish line."
Clinton's disillusioned conception of what would be required
was also evident in his time commitment to Shepherdstown. Unlike Carter at Camp David,
Clinton traveled back and forth between the negotiations and his other business at the White
House. ćis either projects a sense of distraction or suggests that the Clinton Administration
did not view Shepherdstown as a decisive round of mediation-either of which would have
been detrimental to the impression Clinton's team needed to make. Additionally, Clinton
37 Ross, 140; Joe Lockhart, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 302.
38 Quandt, Peace Process, 380.
39 Toni Verstandig, former Deputy Assistant Secretary for Near Eastern AČairs, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investi-
gating," 243-247.
60 Edward P. Djerejian, Danger and Opportunity: An American Ambassador’s Journey rough the Middle East (New York:
ćreshold Editions, 2008), 167; Branch, 607.
Landry Doyle
knew how important his authority would be in mediating between these parties, as nei-
ther responded well to other members of Clinton's team. Barak believed that all negotiating
should be done at the Head of State level and had a history of calling the White House de-
manding to speak directly with Clinton.
Similarly, Syrian Foreign Minister Farouk Shara
put up hard-line positions when dealing with Ross or Albright, and then became more Ęexi-
ble once meeting with Clinton. However as Ross admits, with Clinton constantly leaving and
returning, it was diďcult to keep the most Ęexible positions on the table.
While Clinton's
staČ worried that the President was being over-used, past experience with the Middle East
should have illustrated the Head of State's critical role as the ultimate authoritative ĕgure in
a highly-personalized political culture.
1.4 Clinton assumes a role as a passive facilitator at Shepherdstown
In addition to an ill-planned negotiation process at Shepherdstown, Clinton restricted
his negotiation strategy by assuming a facilitative role. Rather than adopting Carter's direc-
tive, shaping strategy, Clinton preferred to merely educate the negotiating parties on con-
cessions that were needed. He pointed towards a solution instead of forcing either side to
accept a position.
In addition, the Carter team focused the negotiations on the central trade
oČ to be made-land for peace-while Ross admits that President Clinton's ¨style" was not
suited to enforcing a basic tradeoČ.
Yet this allowed Clinton to avoid taking a position on
central issues in the negotiation. He considered everything to be negotiable rather than set-
ting clear terms for agreement. Both the Syrian and Israeli negotiating teams agree that the
United States failed to capitalize on major opportunities. As Israeli political scientist Zeev
Maoz observes, ¨će fact that the Clinton administration refrained from playing a more
assertive role at crucial junctures of negotiation may have been as decisive a factor for the
failure to reach an agreement as any error, hesitation, or misperception on the side of the
Israeli and Syrian decision makers."
In addition, during the process Secretary Albright was
aware of the directive leadership the negotiating parties expected from President Clinton.
As she recalls:
¨I asked both Shara and Barak privately if they seriously believed an agreement would
be reached. ćey each said yes, which I found encouraging until I probed for the reason.
61 Madeleine Albright, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 383.
62 Ross, 331-2.
63 Ibid., 639.
64 Ibid., 420.
63 Zeev Maoz, ¨Syria and Israel: From the Brink of Peace to the Brink of War," Cambridge Review of International Aairs 12,
no. 1 (1998): 266-67.
Shalom Y’all
ćey each believed that in the end President Clinton would intervene to force conces-
sions upon the other."
Clearly both parties expected Clinton to play a more directive role. Even Martin Indyk,
one of Clinton's leading advocates for the Syria ĕrst-track, admits, ¨It should not have been
beyond the capabilities of American diplomacy to bridge the gap...It remains puzzling why
[Clinton] didn't try harder."

1.5 Clinton allows Barak to assume a directive role
Not only did Clinton shy from directing the negotiations, he worsened the situation by
allowing Ehud Barak to maintain control throughout the process. First, it was Barak who
initiated the summit. Clinton clearly says, ¨Ehud Barak had pressed me hard to hold these
talks early in the year."
Rather than controlling the timeline of negotiations based on US'
preparedness or Syrian domestic concerns, Barak's wishes were paramount to all other con-
cerns. While surely the negotiating parties and their willingness to participate is important,
this directly contrasts the 1978 case where the Carter Administration initiated the process
to respond to a stalemate.
Aęer agreeing to Barak's call to begin talks, Barak continued to dominate the process
and substance at Shepherdstown. Ross recalls the ĕrst time Shara and Barak met at Blair
House to appear before the press. Ross recommended that only Clinton make a statement
in order to prevent either side from making a comment that might express rigid thinking.
However, as Ross recalls, ¨Barak had other ideas" and suggested that each leader make a
As Ross foresaw, Shara's statement appealed to the traditional Syrian base and
was highly critical of Israel. Obviously Shara was to blame for his discouraging comments,
but Clinton also deserved blame for allowing Barak to divert from the plan. Aęer negotia-
tions began, Barak set the pace, and was noticeably stalling to prevent progress.
Yet Clinton
continued to be conciliatory and was unwilling to force Barak outside of his comfort level.

Clinton acute awareness of Barak's political situation encouraged the US to be overly respon-
sive to Israel's internal political dynamics, causing them to ¨shię gears" on both substance
and strategy at Barak's request.
Ned Walker, a former US Ambassador to Israel and the
Assistant Secretary for Near East AČair reiterated Barak's control:
66 Albright, 479.
67 Indyk, 287.
68 Clinton, 883.
69 Ross, 340.
70 Albright, 478.
71 Swisher, ¨Investigating," 97.
72 Toni Verstandig, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 131.
Landry Doyle
¨Nobody was telling Barak what to do. President Clinton was fully supportive of
Barak. I don't think if anybody had stood up and said 'this doesn't make sense,' that
anybody would have listened! Barak was just...he was in the driver's seat throughout
this thing."
It's likely that Clinton believed his personal relationship with Barak and skilled politi-
cal persuasion would convince Barak to ĕnalize an agreement at Shepherdstown; however,
Clinton was unable to persuade Israel's leader to commit. Secretary Albright explains that
Clinton sincerely trusted Barak's commitment to peace and was ¨reluctant to substitute his
judgment for an Israeli Prime Minister who was so determined to make history"
Ross re-
iterates this dilemma:
¨We let Barak dictate too much of what was going to be possible and what we would
do. We could have taken a tougher posture towards him in terms of just making it clear
we wouldn't do certain things. će problem is that, here was a guy who was prepared
to make very far-reaching concessions and they were, aęer all, his concessions. ćey
weren't our concessions."

While it's understandable for Clinton to trust Barak's judgment, a directive approach
would have introduced other means to change Barak's mind that would not have hindered
the US' commitment to Israel. Possibilities could have included increasing weapons sys-
tems, withdrawing campaign commitments, or threatening to walk away from mediation.
Additionally, Clinton was an incredibly popular ĕgure in Israel during this time, more so
than Barak, and initiating a personal campaign for an agreement may have had a signiĕcant
impact on Israeli public opinion.
Overall, Clinton only facilitated the negotiation process
at Shepherdstown and instead allowed Barak to lead. ćis strategy allowed both parties to
escape without making any substantial commitments and furthermore, compromised the
trust of the Syrian negotiating team. ćey entered the process with the understanding that
the Rabin deposit would ĕnally be put on the table and instead were leę empty-handed and
disappointed. As Clinton laments, ¨If we had known of Barak's retreat in advance...we could
have prepared the Syrians. As it was, we had misled them."
While Clinton acknowledges
Syrian disappointment, and even hints at his own responsibility for it, he fails to recognize
how a change in strategy could have helped prevent it.
73 Ned Walker, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 133.
74 Albright, 484.
73 Dennis Ross, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 210.
76 Indyk, 283.
77 Branch, 381.
Shalom Y’all
1.6 Clinton never puts forth an independent American proposal
Sixth, Clinton's draę treaty failed to put forth independent ideas or use language that
moved the substance of negotiations forward. In Carter's Camp David negotiations, a sin-
gle-negotiating text was used to direct the process and substance while putting forth an
American position. Clinton's draę treaty did not serve the same purpose. Although Ross
told Clinton to present the draę as the American judgment of what agreement could be
possible, the draę was entirely silent on any Israeli concessions to be made.
će draę
only referred to a ¨commonly agreed border," failing to commit Israel to the Rabin deposit.
će Syrian team called the June 4, 1967 line the ¨ignition" to starting negotiations, and
the American draę intentionally refrained from including it.
In addition to concealing
Israeli concessions, the draę included all the concessions Syria had proposed, many of which
were substantial signs of progress.
Although Ross encouraged Clinton to sell this draę to
the best of his ability, Ross admits that the ideas never presented the best judgment of the
American team:
¨Agreements are forged...on the basis of reconciling the fundamentals each must have
to preserve its identity, dignity, and political base. će Clinton ideas presented on
December 23, 2000, did that between Israelis and Palestinians-at least in our best
judgment. We never did the same on the Syrian track; the ideas presented on March
26, 2000, in Geneva were what Barak was prepared to have us convey to Asad...We un-
derstood it on the Syrian track but wisely never presented our best judgment the way
we did between Israelis and Palestinians. I say wisely because... the most important
American role is not putting our best judgment on the table. Our most important role
may be getting the sides to the negotiating table when the only dialogue they have is
one of violence.... Imposed decisions will not endure. No agreement forced from the
outside will ever have legitimacy."
Ross clearly prides his Administration on refusing to propose its own ideas, suggesting
that somehow articulating an American position would have automatically ¨imposed" an
unacceptable solution. Yet in light of the success of Carter's single-negotiating text strategy,
this argument is hard to defend. An American draę did not have to be the be-all, end-all
to a negotiation. As Carter proved, an American position can be a starting point to objec-
tively identify central tradeoČs which would later be open to modiĕcations from each side.
Deputy Special Middle East Envoy Aaron David Miller also aďrms Ross' fear of taking
78 Ross, 338.
79 Indyk, 262.
80 Martin Indyk, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 188.
81 Ross, 772.
Landry Doyle
¨rigid" positions, but nonetheless, agrees that not taking any positions seems to have been
a mistake.
će Clinton team struggled in deciding how much to put forth throughout the
Middle East peace process. Secretary Albright says they entered with the mindset that the
parties needed to work it out for themselves; however, they ultimately realized that ¨the only
way to do it was to put down [American] parameters."
Unfortunately, on the Syrian-track
this never happened.
1.7 Clinton understands Syria’s bottom line, but never forces Barak to meet it
Seventh, aęer failure at Shepherdstown, the Clinton Administration continued to let
Barak drive negotiations at Geneva, while leading the Syrian delegation to believe their re-
quests would be met. First it is important to note a key diČerence between the Syrian and
Israeli delegations: the Syrian team was clear about its bottom line, while the Israeli team
never articulated their ĕnal position. With Syria, their bottom line had been clear for years-
they needed every inch of land within the June 4, 1967 line, and they had shown no Ęexibility
on this point. Syrian Deputy Foreign Minister Walid Mouallem describes the ĕrst time he
met Barak: ¨I told him twenty-eight times within two hours about Israeli withdrawal to the
4th of June, 1967 line. Barak told me, 'Why are you repeating this:' I said, 'Because I want to
you to go to sleep and dream of this line.'"
Asad also directly told Albright, ¨I cannot settle
for anything less...No person or child in Syria would agree to make peace with any party that
kept even one inch of our land."

Not only was Syria explicit in stating their position, but they were also not receptive to
even subtle alterations. When the US proposed looking at the 1923 International Boundary
instead, Asad's legal advisor warned them of presenting the idea, arguing that merely sug-
gesting it would illicit a negative reaction that could threaten the entire process.
For Asad,
the territory itself was not important, rather the land was a sign of dignity and honor.
addition, both Sadat in Egypt and King Hussein in Jordan had recovered all their land. Asad
was the only hold out and the last true Arab nationalist, if he agreed to a deal he needed to
be able to say ¨'I got the same thing the Egyptians got in the Arab world with Camp David
1978, and the Jordanians too in 1994.' He couldn't go home and say 'I got less.'"
Clinton had
82 Aaron David Miller, former Deputy Special Middle East Envoy, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 130.
83 Madeleine Albright, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 381.
84 Walid Mouallem, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 362.
83 Albright, 473.
86 Swisher, ¨Investigating," 98.
87 Ross, 73.
88 Ned Walker, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 134.
Shalom Y’all
tested Syria's Ęexibility on this issue, but even he concluded that creative formulations of the
Rabin pocket were not going to work-the June 4, 1967 border was the Syrian bottom line.
Not only did the Clinton team know Syria's bottom line, but as they approached the
Geneva negotiations, Clinton also led Asad to believe that his requests would be met.
Amongst the Clinton team there are various stories concerning what Clinton actually told
Asad when requesting the summit. However, the Syrian team convincingly contends that
Clinton assured a full withdrawal. Deputy Syrian Foreign Minister Walid Mouallem says
Clinton told Asad that Barak was ¨ready to please," and Asad's translator describes a phone
call in which Clinton said, ¨your requests are met; you will be very happy." Asad asked to
clarify if this speciĕcally meant the June 4th line would be delivered, and Clinton respond-
ed, ¨I don't want to speak over the phone. But trust me: you will be happy."
Not only do
Syrian claims substantially suggest that Clinton directly implied the June 4th line would
be presented at Geneva, but Saudi Prince Bandar Bin Sultan also claims to have relayed
secret messages between Clinton and Asad guaranteeing the June 4th border. According
to Bandar, Clinton said he knew Asad wanted Israel to withdraw from the Golan Heights
and reinstate the 1967 border. Clinton also said he was planning to pressure Barak to satisfy
these demands; and if successful, he would initiate a summit. ćis was the message Bandar
communicated with Asad. Bandar's covert role is now widely acknowledged by members in
Clinton's Administration, but at the time there wasn't a clear understanding of what he was
communicating to Asad. If Bandar's accounts are accurate, Asad was under the impression
that a summit would only be convened if Barak had agreed to the June 4th line. Secretary
Albright was not informed of this arrangement until she met with Bandar weeks aęer the
summit. She was angered that National Security Advisor Sandy Berger had not kept her in-
formed, ¨ćat Sandy...Now I understand why Asad looked so stupid to me."
While Albright
and others on the American team thought Asad came to Geneva to negotiate in general,
Asad was under the impression that his bottom lines had already been met. Instead, the US
team exploited Syria's trust by promising their bottom line without securing the assurance
that Barak would deliver it.
1.8 Clinton never forced Israel to disclose its bottom line
ćis leads to a second critical oversight-Clinton's team never speciĕcally knew where
Barak would draw Israel's bottom line. Barak had a history of presenting his ¨last absolute
ĕnal oČer" when he in fact was saving additional concessions for ¨later."
Albright and
89 Ross, 300.
90 Walid Mouallem, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 361; Dr. Bouthaina Shabban, interviewed by Clayton
E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 368-9.
91 Elsa Walsh, ¨će Prince," e New Yorker, March 24, 2003, 34-3.
92 Martin Indyk, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 201.
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Indyk both aďrm that President Clinton went to Geneva without knowing what Israel was
really willing to give up and that Barak refused to even discuss the issue.
In this sense,
the Administration had no end game in sight, no speciĕc Israeli positions, and no central
tradeoČ to build from. While Barak did articulate a position to Clinton, Barak's own Chief
Negotiator Uri Sagi claims that ¨he was prepared to go beyond that...He was prepared to go
all the way."
Barak himself may not have known what his limitations were, and in spite of
his undisputable desire for peace, he wavered in mustering the political courage to make
sacriĕces for it. Although Barak was too hesitant to state his absolute positions, he also did
not want to close the door on the peace process. Much like initiating Shepherdstown, Barak
prodded the Americans to arrange a meeting with Asad in Geneva. Clinton agreed, largely
as a favor to the Prime Minister he was ¨unwilling to say no to."
1.9 Barak continues to direct the negotiations at Geneva, while Clinton merely facili-
Clinton arrived in Geneva aware of Syrian demands and conĕdent in his persuasive
ability but entirely dependent on Barak's willingness to table the Rabin deposit. Once again
Clinton acted as a skilled communicator and trusted leader, but not as a director-that was
Barak's position. Albright describes the extent of Barak's control and explains Clinton's will-
ingness to go along with it:
¨Always the micromanager, Barak produced a complete script for the President's use
with Asad. In a manner I thought was patronizing, he said it would be ĕne for the
President to improvise the opening generalities, but the description of Israel's needs had
to be recited word for word. President Clinton went along with this process for several
reasons. He had more hope than the rest of us that the initiative would succeed, and
certainly Barak's oČer was more forthcoming than any other the Syrians were likely to
receive. će President has also promised to support those in the Middle East who were
willing to run risks for peace; astute diplomatic strategist or not, Barak led the region
in this category. Finally, the President's inherent optimism encouraged him to believe
that a concentrated push couldn't help but produce movement."

While optimism is important, a realistic perception of limitations is also necessary.
Clinton's team knew Syria would not accept creative alterations to the June 4th line, and
Asad was told that tabling the June 4th line would be the basis for resuming negotiations.
93 Madeleine Albright, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 374.
94 Uri Sagi, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 403.
93 Branch, 393; Ross, 736.
96 Albright, 480.
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Although the position Barak gave to Clinton hours before the meeting did express conces-
sions, they did not specify the June 4th line and contained territorial swaps that Asad had
always refused to accept.
As an optimistic facilitator, Clinton was willing to relay these po-
sitions and articulate the need for peace, but a directive mediator would never have agreed to
this process. At Geneva, Barak set Clinton up. Later Clinton told Barak he ¨felt like a wooden
Indian doing [his] bidding."
ćis is not the posture of someone shaping a negotiation-this
is the role of someone merely responding to it.
ćroughout the mediation process, Clinton did not leverage American power to pres-
sure both sides, but instead allowed Barak to take the lead. Clinton's empathy for Israeli
political concerns prevented him from issuing an American proposal or from forcing Barak
to vocalize his bottom line. At the same time Clinton manipulated Syria's trust, convincing
them to wait for a boundary that Barak would never deliver. While Clinton succeeded in get-
ting parties to the negotiating table-this was the extent of his role-thus he limited himself
to serving only as a facilitator.
V. Variable Two: Prioritization of Mediation Outcomes Relative to the Na-
tional Interest
će second relevant diČerence between the third party mediators in these two cases is
their perception of the mediation outcome as a priority to achieving the national interest.
When a third party mediator, especially one who is also a Head of State, views a mediation's
outcome as being essential to achieving policy goals, he will be more involved in shaping
the outcome to be in his favor. će Carter Administration considered Arab-Israeli peace to
be critical to resolving the tension between the US' commitment to Israel and its need to
secure a stable oil supply from Arab nations and made this a priority in its foreign policy
agenda. Conversely, the Clinton Administration recognized the value of Arab-Israeli peace
but did not seem to have an invested American interest in the speciĕc deal between Israel
and Syria. ćus the diČering prioritization of Arab-Israeli peace can be an inĘuential diČer-
ence between these two cases.
2. Carter saw the outcomes of mediation as a critical part of the national interest
2.1 Articulates the strategic importance of Middle East peace
Carter's strategic prioritization of the Arab-Israeli conĘict was grounded in his unique
grand strategy. First, given the Cold War context, it is important to consider the positive
eČect Middle East peace would have on consolidating the Western sphere of inĘuence. Carter
97 Indyk, 273.
98 Agha and Malley.
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articulates these concerns stating that he ¨did not want to see Soviet inĘuence [expand] in
the area."
However, it is incorrect to assume that this fear was the predominant reason for
Carter's interest in the region. His administration, especially in its ĕrst two years, had pro-
jected a continued message of disassociation from traditional Cold War policies. Jerel Rosati
argues that Carter's Administration intentionally moved away from containment, realpoli-
tik, and anticommunist rhetoric, to instead project a more forward-thinking, post-Cold War
grand strategy of preventative diplomacy, global complexity, interdependence, and human
Gaddis Smith repeats this conceptualization of Carter's foreign policy:
¨će four years of the Carter administration were among the most signiĕcant on the
history of American foreign policy in the 20th century...će fundamental debate about
how the US should behave in international aČairs was waged with unusual clarity...
An eČort was made to think in terms of a lasting world order beneĕcial to all people,
rather than to make every decision on the basis of short-term calculation of American
advantage over the Soviet Union."

ćus while Carter did have balance of power politics in mind, he also sought to un-
derstand the complexity of each issue rather than simplistically categorizing it in regards
to bipolarity. In his 1977 speech to the United Nations General Assembly, a common stage
for projecting grand strategy, Carter announced, ¨We can only improve this world if we are
realistic about its complexities. će disagreements that we face are deeply rooted, and they
oęen raise diďcult philosophical, as well as territorial issues. ćey will not be solved easily.
ćey will not be solved quickly."
In addition to Carter's overarching goal to use American inĘuence to shape complex
global issues, the Middle East conĘict was prioritized as being of critical strategic interest.
Historically the United States has had two enduring interests in the region: 1.) securing its
oil supply and 2.) ensuring Israeli security. However there is also an inherent tension be-
tween these two interests, and for Carter, creating Arab-Israeli peace was the primary way
to reconcile this tension.
Secretary of State Cyrus Vance describes the Administration's
approach to policy in the Middle East:
99 Carter, Keeping, 282.
100 Jerel A. Rosati, ¨Jimmy Carter, a Man Before His Time: će Emergence and Collapse of the First Post-Cold War Presi-
dency," Presidential Studies Quarterly 23, no. 3 (1993): 462.
101 Gaddis Smith, Morality Reason, and Power: American Diplomacy in the Carter Years (New York: Hill and Wang, 1986), 4.
102 Rosati, 464-3.
103 Telhami, Power, 13.
Shalom Y’all
¨ćere was an additional dimension to the Carter policy that sharply distinguished
our Middle East approach from that of our predecessors. Peace in the region would
be a critical element in a broader American strategy for shaping a more cooperative
world order in the coming decades. To cope with the complex challenges of a prolonged
period of widespread, turbulent upheaval, we believed we would have to work toward
developing institutions and processes for the prompt and orderly resolution of con-
Ęicts and the accommodation of social, economic, and political change. I also felt
that in addition to serving the people of the region, peace in the Middle East would
give support to those at home and abroad who believed that resolution of potential or
incipient conĘicts could be resolved by peaceful means."
Carter's term was also marked by its concern for economic interests in the Persian
Gulf-he established national energy policy, created the Department of Energy, and re-
sponded to the oil crisis instigated by the Iranian Revolution. Obviously stability in the Arab
region was integral to creating a long-term energy solution. In addition to energy concerns,
the Carter Administration also acknowledged the danger of increasing extremism in the
region. As Carter writes, the failure to establish peace ¨would provide an opportunity for
the most radical elements to take over in the Middle East" and spread beyond the region.

Hostile Arab-Israeli relations were the underlying problem behind many of these issues,
but the controversy and low-prospect for success deterred many from taking action. Yet
Carter continued to prioritize the Middle East:
¨Human rights, Israeli security, Soviet inĘuence, Middle East peace, oil imports-these
would be major concerns of our new administration. I struggled with the questions, and
sought advice from all possible sources, only to be told by almost every adviser to stay
out of the Middle East situation. It seemed that all the proposed solutions had already
been tried and failed. However, I could see growing threats to the United States in the
Middle East, and was willing to make another try."

Carter was advised to ¨stay as aloof as possible from direct involvement in the Middle
East negotiations" because the issues seemed too intractable. While Carter ¨could not think
of any reason to disagree" with these evaluations, he nonetheless felt the commitment was
too important to abandon.

104 Vance, 164.
103 Carter, Keeping, 371.
106 Ibid., 286.
107 Ibid., 321.
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2.2 Ignores domestic pressures and sacrices political interests to achieve peace
Not only did Carter articulate the importance of Middle East peace as a foreign policy
goal, but he also prioritized it to such an extent that it interfered or superseded domestic
political concerns. When Carter ĕrst met Sadat, the Egyptian President questioned Carter's
commitment to staying active in the long and arduous peace process, especially given the
heavy political pressures. Yet Carter conĕdently told Sadat that he ¨was willing to face any
necessary political risks to reach a settlement."
At this stage Carter's conĕdence may have
been naïve, but as the negotiations proceeded, his comment foreshadowed his eventual fate.
Carter was never able to explain his policies to the American public or win enduring
domestic support, and his disregard for public opinion proved politically costly, especially
amongst the American Jewish community.
In June 1977 Carter's Chief of StaČ, Hamilton
Jordan sent the President a memo describing the strength of the Jewish inĘuence within
the Democratic Party, but still the President did not seem overly concerned with catering
to the Jewish constituency.
Soon the time-consuming Middle East negotiations became
Carter's heaviest political burden, but he continued to move aggressively despite the heavy
domestic cost.
As election season approached, Carter failed to convince the public, or even
his own party, that his long-term vision for establishing a 'global community' was of utmost
importance. Carter writes:
¨I was really in a quandary. I knew how vital peace in the Middle East was to the
United States, but many Democratic members of Congress and party oďcials were
urging me to back out of the situation and to repair the damage they claimed I had
already done to the Democratic party and to United States-Israeli relations. It seemed
108 Carter, Keeping, 291.
109 Rosati, 472. Quandt, Camp, 318.
110 Out of 123 members of the Democratic National Finance Council, over 70 are Jewish; In 1976, over 60° of the large do-
nors to the Democratic Party were Jewish; Over 60° of the monies raised by Nixon in 1972 was from Jewish contributors; Over
73° of the monies raised in Humphrey's 1968 campaign was from Jewish contributors; Over 90° of the monies raised by Scoop
Jackson in the Democratic primaries was from Jewish contributors; In spite of the fact that you were a long shot and came from
an area of the country where there is a smaller Jewish community, approximately 33° of our primary funds were from Jewish
supporters. Wherever there is major political fundraising in this country, you will ĕnd American Jews playing a signiĕcant role."
Hamilton Jordan, Conĕdential File, Box 34, File ¨Foreign Policy/Domestic Politics Memo, HJ Memo, 6/77," declassiĕed June 12,
111 Quandt, Peace Process, 223-4.
Shalom Y’all
particularly ironic to be so accused, when I was trying to bolster our relations with
Israel and strengthen its security."

In the end, Carter continued to press hard in the Middle East knowing it could cost
Jewish support, and more importantly, reelection.
When added to the poor economy, the
failure to rescue hostages in Iran, and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Carter's political
risks did not resonate positively with the American public. Carter reĘects on this strategy,
¨Some of my political advisors said that addressing so many controversial subjects in my ĕrst
term would alienate voters, and those predictions proved accurate."
While Carter's per-
sona as a Washington-outsider helped him win election in 1976, bringing a similar mindset
to the presidency- by pursuing an agenda in spite of its heavy political cost-did not prove
2.3 Describes Middle East peace as the dening issue of his presidency and continues
involvement aer leaving oce
In the decades following Carter's presidency, he has continued unprecedented levels
of involvement in Arab-Israeli conĘict resolution, demonstrating that the issue has always
been of considerable personal importance. Carter authored two books on the subject and
remains the leading supporter of comprehensive peace and a two-state solution in American
policy discourse-a solution that the current Obama Administration has adopted.
has taken numerous trips to the region, monitored elections in Lebanon and the Palestinian
Territories, and facilitated dialogue between various Arab and Israeli leaders. In addition,
the Carter Center has established permanent oďces in Ramallah, Jerusalem, and Gaza, dis-
playing a permanent commitment to actively participate in the peace process.
Carter de-
scribes Middle East peace as the deĕning issue of his presidency-indeed it took up a large
amount of his time, hindered his ability to address other critical issues, and proved to be
one of his only successes as President. ReĘecting on his eČorts Carter writes, ¨I have asked
myself many times if it was worth the tremendous investment of my time and energy. Here
again, the answer has not always been the same. It will depend on the wisdom and dedica-
tion of the leaders of the future."

While Carter's prioritization of Middle East peace reĘected the strategic importance
of the region, it is also demonstrates a general disconnect between these issues and the
112 Carter, Keeping, 323.
113 Quandt, Camp, 286.
114 Carter, White, 272.
113 Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid (2006) and We Can Have Peace in the Holy Land: a plan that will work (2009).
116 More information on Carter Center activities is available at
117 Carter, Keeping, 436.
Landry Doyle
interests of the American public. In this regard, some consider Carter's strategic priorities to
be ¨ahead of his time"-his long-term solutions did not resonate with a short-term-thinking
electorate. Although Carter's inability to garner public support hindered his political suc-
cess, his strong degree of prioritization increased his eČectiveness as third party mediator.
By personally and strategically prioritizing stability and peace in the Middle East, Carter was
willing to devote considerable time, personal energy, and ĕnancial and military resources to
the cause, all which proved to be essential in achieving an agreement.
2. Clinton expresses strategic interest in the Middle East, but the importance of Syri-
an-Israeli peace is unclear in the Administration’s long list of ambiguous priorities
2.1 e Administration articulates an ad hoc approach to national security goals
Although the Carter Administration tried to move US grand strategy away from tradi-
tional Cold War concepts, the Clinton Administration was forced to grapple with the uncer-
tainty of the post-Cold War era and struggled to articulate a coherent grand strategy within
this context. Like Carter, Clinton recognized global and regional complexity; however, his
record shows a lack of clarity concerning the goals of foreign policy and the proper means
needed to achieve these goals. According to Barry Posen and Andrew Ross, Clinton's foreign
policy attempted to mesh several divergent views: 1.) his own inclination towards American
activism, 2.) the necessity of exercising US leadership and power, 3.) Congress' preference
for unilateral US action, and 4.) the American public's disinterest in foreign aČairs. Under
the direction of National Security Advisor Anthony Lake, catering to each of these pres-
sures resulted in a strategy deĕned as ¨enlargement," which argued that the US could best
achieve its goals by actively engaging with the global community. Within this paradigm the
Administration's National Security Strategy deĕned the US' central goals as ¨sustaining se-
curity with military forces that are ready to ĕght, bolstering America's economic revitaliza-
tion, and promoting democracy abroad."
ćese broad goals, founded on an ambiguous
grand strategy, created considerable room for Ęexibility. However this tailor-made approach
had the consequence of appearing incoherent and disjointed, or even worse, causing a fail-
ure to appropriately allocate resources to protect long-term interests.
In order to avoid the
dangers of ad hocracy, the Clinton Administration tended to adapt or abandon eČorts that
proved costly on either the domestic or international front.
In this sense, Clinton's priori-
ties hinged on managing costs and beneĕts rather than adhering to a single ideological or
strategic paradigm.
118 će White House, A National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement. (Washington, DC: February 1993), i.
119 Barry R. Posen and Andrew L. Ross, ¨Competing Visions for U.S. Grand Strategy," International Security 21, no. 3 (1996-
1997), 30; Richard Haass, ¨Paradigm Lost," Foreign Aairs 74, no. 1 (1993): 32.
120 Posen and Ross, 30.
Shalom Y’all
2.2 Understands value of Middle East stability, but Syrian and Palestinian negotia-
tions vie for Administration’s attention
Given the ¨a la carte" procedure for determining foreign policy priorities, it is necessary
to analyze where the Middle East peace process ranked amongst other issues. Rhetorically,
the Administration publically identiĕed the Middle East's importance to global security, but
in the National Security Strategy's forty-plus pages of comprehensive planning, only two
small paragraphs are devoted to ¨enduring interests in the Middle East peace process."

ćis signals that while the issue was on the radar, it was not considered an imperative con-
cern. In addition to measuring the priority of Middle East negotiations, it is also neces-
sary to consider the prioritization of the Syrian-Israeli negotiations in comparison to the
Palestinian-Israel negotiations. Unlike Carter's attempt to link Egyptian and Palestinian
agreements, the Clinton Administration had to deal with both issues separately. Although
both tracks were pursued concurrently, Barak was unlikely to make major concessions to
both Syria and Palestine, thus the Clinton Administration tended to play the tracks against
each other, searching for the greatest room to maneuver; again, the strategy to maximize
gains is evident.
At the beginning of Barak's term as Prime Minister, Clinton's team made the strategic
choice to prioritize a Syrian agreement. Martin Indyk was the primary supporter of the
Syrian track, arguing that Syria was more critical for achieving US interests. Peace with
Syria, who occupied Lebanon at the time, would likely lead to peace with Lebanon which
could silence the lingering threat from Hezbollah. In addition, Syria was the only remaining
conventional army in the region and was also the primary leader of the pan-Arab move-
ment-this made Syrian peace essential to regional stability.
Indyk also argued that only
Syria had the regional power to persuade other nations to normalize relations with Israel
and isolate the rogue regimes of Iraq and Iran, potentially changing the ¨whole [regional]
dynamic in a very positive way."
In addition to the strategic value of the Syrian track, it
was also considered to be the easier, more straightforward tradeoČ.
Barak also supported a Syria-ĕrst option, and in the end, this was the strategy that
won the day. However, it was not the preferred approach from every voice in the Clinton
Administration, and several considered it ¨a big waste of time" because it focused too much
on regional balance of power instead of recognizing the Palestinian plight as the funda-
mental core of Arab-Israeli conĘict.
While approaching Syria ĕrst may signal its superior
strategic value, having the Palestinian negotiations on the back burner allowed Clinton's
team to shię gears as soon as the Syrian track became too complicated. ćus, it's diďcult
121 će White House, 30.
122 Clinton, 626.
123 Martin Indyk, interview with Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 187.
124 Gemal Helal, interview with Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 133.
Landry Doyle
to determine if one was prioritized over the other, or if instead the Administration simply
prioritized whichever track had the greater prospect for success.
2.3 Clinton demonstrates a concern for domestic political considerations and is un-
sure of the relation to national security concerns
A common criticism of Clinton's foreign policy at the end of his term is that interna-
tional goals became overly intertwined with domestic politics, grasping at straws to repair
Clinton's reputation and legacy. Indeed Clinton's precarious situation lent itself to increas-
ing eČorts at creating positive press. As Dennis Ross recalls, ¨ćere was no doubt in my
mind that under the pressure of the Starr Report, there was a strong desire to show that the
President was doing his job, was not distracted, and was visibly dealing with highly sensi-
tive, serious issues."
While this oČers some explanation for why the Administration may
have rushed the negotiation process, it does not convincingly suggest that the Middle East
peace process resurfaced solely to boost Clinton's image. On the contrary, it is important to
consider Barak's election in Israel as a primary reason for reemphasizing Arab-Israeli peace
towards the end of the Clinton era. Clinton showed interest in Middle East peace through-
out his presidency but struggled to negotiate with conservative Israeli leaders. ćus Clinton
played an active role in supporting Barak's campaign, and once elected, both leaders seemed
ready to get negotiations moving. ćis positive development in Israeli domestic politics only
coincidently coincided with Clinton's domestic troubles.
Clinton's PR considerations may have encouraged amplifying involvement in the Middle
East to some degree; however, the importance of the Middle East was still preceded by other
domestic considerations-primarily maintaining approval from the Israeli lobby. Although
Clinton was not up for re-election, he showed a commitment to both Vice President Al
Gore's presidential bid and his wife's campaign for Senate. While Carter chose to disregard
the American-Jewish voice, Clinton was not willing to risk making a ¨high-proĕle presiden-
tial commitment" that could ¨provoke a domestic controversy."
While making strides in
the Middle East would have provided a much-needed victory for Clinton's team, this could
not come at the expense of greater political calculations. Again, cost and beneĕt analysis is
the key determinant of the Administration's priorities, and it is evident that domestic con-
siderations outweighed aims for peacemaking.
Finally, unlike Carter's clear personal commitment to taking a great risk to reach agree-
ment-a risk that contributed to his failed re-election campaign and even the assassination
of Anwar Sadat-Clinton appears less convicted of the issue's importance. Ross recounts a
discussion with Clinton before beginning the Camp David II Summit: ¨As we walked out
123 Ross, 401.
126 Quandt, Peace Process, 361-2.
Shalom Y’all
the door, he looked at me and said, 'ćis is the right thing to do isn't it:' Nodding, I simply
said 'yes'...Sure, he understood the value of Middle East peace for his legacy. But ultimately,
he acted on the summit because he believed it was the right thing to do."
Despite Ross'
commentary, in this vulnerable moment it is unclear what Clinton actually believes. Indeed,
it is fair to second-guess any major decision, but Clinton appears to have no conviction,
no assuredness that his eČorts were essential-not just essential to some utopian notion of
world peace, but essential to securing US' interests. While Carter does say he questions the
worth of his eČorts, he adds that this is only because they are fragilely dependent on the ef-
forts of leaders that have followed him, not because he doubted the importance of the issue.
Clinton, however, seemed to ¨have no views of his own," addressing the conĘict ¨as if the
United States had no independent national interest at stake in the peace process."

In hindsight, this misjudgment proved costly, and the failure to make progress with
either the Syrians or Palestinians further destabilized the region. As Martin Indyk recognized:
¨We hoped to take advantage of a symbiotic relationship between peacemaking and
dual containment. će more we succeeded in brokering a comprehensive Arab-Israeli
peace, the more isolated Iraq and Iran would become; the more eČective we were in con-
taining the destabilizing activities of these two rogue regimes, the easier it would be for
Israel's neighbors to make peace with the Jewish state. It was a neat and logical design.
What we failed to foresee was that a reverse symbiosis could also take hold. If Clinton
failed at peacemaking, the rogue states would become less isolated and contained, and if
he failed at dual containment, peacemaking would become that much more diďcult."
Indeed this ¨reverse symbiosis" did occur-in Gaza and the West Bank the Second
Intifada broke out shortly aęer the Camp David II negotiations fell apart, and in Lebanon
Barak withdrew Israeli troops without signing a peace agreement, allowing Hezbollah to
gain power and count the withdrawal as a victory for violent extremism. A year later, aęer the
9/11 attacks, Middle East instability proved to be a foremost threat to US security, and it is all
too easy to wonder if a successful peace eČort could have made a diČerence. Clinton's priori-
tization of the Syrian-Israeli conĘict reĘects his administration's general ambiguity towards
setting strategic interests. Rather than deĕning a clear grand strategy, the Administration's
decision-making was anchored in cost-beneĕt analysis, seeking to ¨enlarge" the scope of its
economic, political, military, and humanitarian inĘuence where it could gain the most bang
for its buck. In the introduction to his memoir, Clinton closes by saying, ¨Even when I wasn't
127 Ross, 649.
128 Quandt, Peace Process, 340.
129 Indyk, 43.
Landry Doyle
sure where I was going, I was always in a hurry."
Although removed from its original con-
text, this statement seems all too ĕtting for Clinton's approach to foreign policy strategy-he
oęen didn't know what his priorities were and tried to take a short cut to ĕgure them out.
While this proved eČective in some cases, it was ultimately unsuccessful in this one.
VI. Variable ree: Use of Negotiating Team
će third relevant diČerence between these two cases is the primary mediator's abil-
ity to successfully utilize the remaining members of the negotiating team. While both
Administrations dealt with negotiating parties who highly valued the individual partici-
pation of the Head of State, it is obvious that a President cannot devote full attention to a
single issue or process that requires years of preparation, research, and diplomatic eČort.
ćus it is crucial to examine which ĕgures controlled the peace process in the President's
absence. Rather than extending this study to consider the numerous individual traits held by
each team member, this variable will only consider a team member's negotiating authority,
or bureaucratic rank within the administration, with the hypothesis that given the highly
personalized negotiation environment, a higher ranked oďcial would be more eČective. In
addition to the rank of leading team members, this variable also considers the degree to
which the President was able to maintain internal cohesion within the negotiation team.
ćus while Carter's team cooperated cohesively and allowed Secretary of State Cyrus Vance
to exert considerable authority, the Clinton Administration relied on Special Coordinator
Dennis Ross to lead the negotiating team.
3. Carter’s team works cohesively allowing Secretary Vance to exert authority as
Carter’s second in command
ćroughout the negotiating process President Carter was able to keep his foreign policy
team on the same page in regards to their strategic and procedural vision for the Middle East
negotiations. će unity between Brzezinki, Vance, and Carter was evident throughout the
Camp David Summit. As Carter himself reported:
¨će United States group was a smooth-running and well-organized team. ćere was
no way to distinguish between the staČ members who worked under me directly and
130 Clinton, 7.
Shalom Y’all
those who worked for Dr. Brzezinski or Secretary Vance. Even in times of fatigue,
stress, or disappointment, I do not recall a single unpleasant diČerence among us."
će negotiating parties also acknowledged the strength of the Administration's internal
dynamics. Israeli Defense Minister Ezer Weizman described the American team as being
¨marked by a high degree of unanimity."
Developing internal agreement allowed the
Carter team to present a united front with clearly articulated objectives.
Not only did Carter's team remain uniĕed, but Carter's negotiating eČorts were also
strengthened by delegating signiĕcant authority to Secretary of State Cyrus Vance. Before
entering oďce, Carter made it clear that he wanted Vance to assume a personal leadership
role in the Middle East.
Vance traveled considerably in the early stages of Carter's term,
leading diplomatic eČorts throughout the region to push for the Geneva meetings and then
later to garner support for the Camp David Summit. Not only did Vance lead a successful
diplomatic eČort, but he also played a signiĕcant role during the summit itself. As Brzezinski
noted, Vance, utilizing his extensive experience as a lawyer, ¨was at his best in the context
of these highly detailed and exhausting negotiations. He was persistent, solid, and well in-
formed. ćough oęen exasperated with the Israelis...he never let his feelings aČect his deal-
ings with the Israelis and as a consequence he was able to orchestrate the lengthy negotia-
tions which consumed so much of 1978."
Vance's mastery of legal esoteric argumentation
matched that of the detail-oriented Israeli team, enhancing the US' ability to keep pres-
sure on Begin and overcome his many semantic objections. Although the media suggested
that Brzezinski and Vance were bitter enemies, Brzezinski denies that he had anything less
than admiration for Vance's handling of the negotiation process and even asserts that ¨aęer
Carter, in the US government, Vance deserves most credit for this achievement."
As the
Secretary of State, Vance was the US' leading authority on foreign policy issues; while Vance
clearly had the personal ability to contribute to Carter's eČorts, he more importantly had the
authoritative weight to lead the parties. Carter recognized that utilizing the decision-mak-
ing authority of higher-ranking oďcials, in particular Secretary Vance, created the greatest
opportunity for success apart from his own personal involvement.
131 Carter, Keeping, 339.
132 Brzezinski, 238.
133 Vance, 13.
134 Brzezinski, 238.
133 Ibid., 288. A month aęer the summit, the media increased reporting on a clash between Vance and Brzezinski; however,
Brzezinski notes that while some genuine policy diČerences emerged (and would later prove to complicate their relationship)
their relationship remained strong. He wrote in his journal on November 8, 1978 ¨I must say [Vance] is really a very pleasant
person to deal with. It would be diďcult to imagine someone better as Secretary of State in terms of the personal relationship...
ćere is no doubt he is a very good person-extremely loyal, highly dedicated, and willing to do what the President wishes
without too much questioning. Moreover, he is really a very decent person. Finally, what is impressive is how well briefed he is on
most of the issues he has to deal with. He obviously has a lot of energy and a very good memory," Brzezinski, 39.
Landry Doyle
3. Clinton’s team is not utilized to its fullest capacity, allowing a non-authoritative
gure to lead the process
During the transition from the George H.W. Bush Administration, Clinton recognized
Dennis Ross' eČorts as Bush' State Department Director of Policy Planning, and particularly
his success in convening the Madrid Middle East Peace Conference. Although Ross initially
was planning to leave the State Department due to dissatisfaction with his demoted position
as a ¨special advisor," Tom Donilon, the White House Chief of StaČ, wanted to keep him on
board. Initially, Ross said he was not enticed by lower-level opportunities and that to satisfy
him, Donilon ¨would have to upset the whole bureaucratic structure."
Ross clearly wanted
signiĕcant independent authority to address Middle East issues, so they accommodated
his wishes by creating a new position as Special Middle East Coordinator responsible for
leading negotiations on Arab-Israeli issues. Ross would report directly to the Secretary of
State, and he accepted the position under the condition that ¨there would be no question
about [his] authority either within the State Department or outside it."
From the onset
Ross clearly demarcated his ownership of the Arab-Israeli issue. As Ned Walker, former US
Ambassador to Israel, noted, ¨When Secretary Albright hired me she said, 'I want you to
stay out of the negotiations-that's Dennis' job...So the whole portfolio of Israeli-Arab was
strictly housed in Dennis' shop."
Syrian Deputy Foreign Minister Walled Moallem said
Ross communicated similar sentiments to their negotiating team, ¨He told us...that nobody
could advise Clinton on the peace process except him...He told me that everything had to
come through him."
While working outside of the traditional bureaucratic structure gave
Ross the opportunity he wanted, in the eyes of the negotiating parties his arbitrary position
did not carry decision-making authority. As Quandt recalled from his negotiation experi-
ence, ¨Only the President and the Secretary of State have much clout with the Middle East
parties...No one in the Middle East will show his cards to anyone on the American side other
than the highest authority."
Additionally, to some degree, the Arab negotiating teams did
not trust Ross' impartiality and oęen considered him to be too pro-Israeli.
Despite Ross'
expertise and clear access to Clinton as an advisor, he could not put pressure on the parties
themselves because he did not possess that type of authority.
In addition, Ross took on such a large role that Secretary of State Madeleine Albright's
authority was signiĕcantly underutilized. Although Albright did succeed in diplomatic roles,
136 Ross, 97.
137 Ibid., 98.
138 Ned Walker, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 133.
139 Walled Moallem, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 138.
140 Quandt, Camp, 336.
141 Ross, 313.
Shalom Y’all
she relied on Ross' expertise to address procedure and strategy. As Mohammad Dahlan, a
former National Security Advisor for the PLO, observed:
¨Dennis Ross was the man who was in charge. With all my respect to Secretary Albright,
she didn't release any wonders about the ĕle unless she had the agreement of Dennis
Ross. She didn't say anything about [the] situation unless she had the agreement of
Dennis Ross...Even in some press conferences when she was talking, she was also look-
ing at Dennis, just to have his agreement."

Although Dahlan was speaking from his experience with Albright and Ross during the
Palestinian negotiations, it seems likely that Secretary Albright ceded control to Ross during
the Syrian negotiations as well. While Ross' expertise was of critical importance, it could
not ĕt the need for a strong, authoritative second-in-command, especially given that, unlike
Carter, Clinton was regularly absent from the negotiating table. While Clinton's team may
have possessed strong skills overall, he did not have a deĕnite leader to substantially drive
negotiations forward when he was not present. ćis oversight limited his team's ability to
maintain constant pressure on the negotiating parties.
In comparison to the previous two variables, the use of negotiating team members is
a much simpler concept, and while it may have less eČect on the negotiation's outcome, it
is an important diČerence to consider. If applying authority is necessary in order to move a
negotiation forward (in either a facilitative or a directive role), a mediator must have team
members who posses this authority to lead eČorts when he is absent. While Secretary Vance
skillfully served in this capacity throughout the Egyptian-Israeli peace process, Dennis Ross'
unauthoritative position could not ĕt the need for a strong secondary leader.
VII. Conclusions
ReĘecting on the failure of Shepherdstown and Geneva, Dennis Ross writes that op-
portunities for peacemaking are Ęeeting and fragile-¨they can be easily lost."
progress on Arab-Israeli conĘict since Clinton's ĕnal eČorts demonstrates the truth of Ross'
observation. However, the question persists-what factors can make the diČerence between
a negotiation that is ¨lost" and one that ends in a sustainable agreement: Using comparative
analysis, this study oČers an answer by evaluating the diČerences between the Egyptian-
Israeli negotiations in 1978 and the Syrian-Israeli negotiations in 2000. ćese two cases
demonstrate signiĕcant similarities and yet diČerent outcomes, making their comparison
optimal for a method of diČerence study.
142 Mohammad Dahlan, interviewed by Clayton E. Swisher, ¨Investigating," 328.
143 Ross, 389.
Landry Doyle
In response to the shortcomings of existing explanations, this study examines the role
of the third-party mediator and argues that a mediator can have a signiĕcant inĘuence on
the outcome of a negotiation. ćree relevant conclusions emerge:
1. A mediator who pursues a directive strategy, and has the power to enact it, is more
likely to reach an agreement than one who resorts to merely facilitative tactics.
2. A mediator who prioritizes the peace process over other national security concerns
is more likely to reach an agreement than one who does not deem the agreement to be es-
sential to the national interest.
3. A mediator who utilizes team members with signiĕcant decision-making authority
will be more likely to reach an agreement than one who does not.
Carter out-performed Clinton in each of these criteria, suggesting that Clinton could
have signiĕcantly increased his ability to reach an agreement between Syria and Israel by
shaping and prioritizing the peace process and by delegating primary responsibilities to
cabinet members who had the authoritative respect of the negotiating parties.
Accepting these conclusions still leaves several concerns unanswered-two primary
issues merit some discussion. First, it would be ignorant to avoid conceding that, although
both tried, neither Carter nor Clinton was able to make any progress on Palestinian-Israeli
peace. ćus, the extent to which a third-party mediator can aČect negotiation outcomes
seems to be dependent on the case's level of intractability. While Syria and Egypt had a com-
parable level of intractability, introducing the more diďcult Palestinian case undoubtedly
poses a challenge. A powerful, shaping mediator, with an authoritative team, who makes
peace his only priority will still not always achieve agreement. Yet, it also seems worthy to
note that as a one-term President, Carter did not have as much time to pursue the Palestinian
track. Israeli-Palestinian issues were of little concern to the Reagan Administration, which
undoubtedly prevented further progress. While one can only speculate the possibilities for
peace had Carter been reelected, at the very least it can be assumed that he would have con-
tinued to pressure Begin on settlements and Palestinian autonomy. ćis leads to the second
important consideration-although Carter's mediation style proved to be more eČective, it
undoubtedly distracted his attention from other concerns and could surely be linked to his
failure to win reelection. ćis begs the question: is great political sacriĕce necessary in order
to devote the attention and shaping power a negotiation of this type requires: If so, it seems
unlikely that many leaders will be willing to take up the cause. Although policymakers con-
tinue eČorts to address intractable conĘict, particularly between Israel and Palestine, eČorts
are unlikely to make signiĕcant progress unless they actively engage in the process with
steadfast political courage and perseverant personal dedication from the highest echelons
of leadership. Like war, peace must be waged with conviction that provokes sacriĕce, and
until peacemakers prioritize this level of commitment, their admirable eČorts will continue
to fall short.
Shalom Y’all
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The Sounds of Silence
Individual level explanations for the lack of political participation and
the ramications for a democratic future in Russia
Lara Nichols
is article seeks to explain the comparative lack of political participation in Russia
through the individual, as opposed to the aggregate, lens. Although this analysis takes
into account the inuence of more general factors like history and economics, the pri-
mary variables constitute Personal Engagement—an individual’s awareness and knowl-
edge of political and social issues of the day—and Personal Engagement—an individual’s
condence in government institutions and the sense that he or she has a “say” in policy
decisions and government machinations. By analyzing political participation at the indi-
vidual level, this article attempts to shed light on the democratic potential of the Russian
populace and on democratization in Russia in general.
će unusual path of Russian democratization has presented a conundrum to scholars
ever since the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991. An oxymoronic mixture of control-
ling government practices combined with irregular economic privatization and political
liberalization has created a nation that struggles to move forward and break root with its
authoritarian past. As such, the present literature on Russian democratization has almost
unanimously concluded that, whatever strides it has made, Russia is not yet a democracy.
Where scholarship diČers is the reason for this lack of success. Some suggest economic fac-
tors, while others point to Russia's long history of authoritarianism. Yet, regardless of per-
sonal reasoning, analysts generally come to the conclusion that Russia is lacking some basic
democratic traits including a free and lively civil society, an autonomous political society, a
rule of law protecting citizens rights, a functioning state bureaucracy, and an institutional-
ized economic society. For a democracy to be deeply internalized it must not only possess
these traits, but these traits must work together, for ¨no single arena in such a system can
function without some support from one, or oęen all, of the other arenas."
Rather than tackling the entirety of Russian democratization and the reasons for its
success or failure, I suggest that the comparatively low levels of political participation in
Russia, which will be described presently in detail, are a meaningful symptom of Russia's
1 Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America and
Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 13.
LĮĿĮ NĶİĵļĹŀ is a senior at the University of Southern California majoring in
International Relations and minoring in French, Russian, and Painting.
Lara Nichols
underdeveloped democracy. Furthermore, an in-depth analysis of the reasons for this lack
of participation might oČer revealing information about the failure of democracy in Russia
and even Russia's democratic potential.
In essence, this study seeks to answer the question: why don't Russians participate, par-
ticularly at the nonvoting level: Are they dissuaded by a general sense of apathy and lack
of interest in politics and the world of policy or, rather, by a distrust of institutions and the
lack of any feelings of personal agency and eďcacy at the political level: While other argu-
ments-namely historical and economic-can be made to account for the lack of political
participation in Russia, this paper is more concerned with the internal choices and opinions
of the Russian populace. Namely, do Russians at large care about politics and intellectually
involve themselves in a way that suggests they could support a lively civil society and an
independent political society: If so, perhaps they are instead discouraged by mores and in-
stitutions which they ĕnd to be unresponsive to their actions and desires, resulting in a low
sense of political eČectiveness or eďcacy. While economic and historical factors can work
in tandem with either the personal engagement or the eďcacy argument, engagement and
eďcacy are more mutually exclusive in relation to each other. Ultimately, the hypothesis of
this study is that Russians are not signiĕcantly behind other more entrenched democracies
when it comes to general interest in politics and current events and that this is not to blame
for the low levels of political participation in Russia. Rather, a better explanation is found
in the lack of conĕdence in government practices and institutions-including a shackled
media, an over presidential constitutions, and a weak party system-which, in turn, result
in a low sense of political eďcacy amongst Russians and mitigate the value of participation.
I have already noted that this analysis will focus on personal engagement and eďcacy:
variables that occur at the individual level and are indicative of the mindset of Russian
people today regarding participation. Still, the aggregate historical and economic factors are
worth discussing since they contribute to the memory of modern Russians and, thus, have
a bearing on individual choices.
će implications of Russian historical development on political participation are two-
fold. First, a legacy of totalitarian leadership leę by the tsars and the Communists has leę
the Russian people more accustomed than most to a repressive ruling authority with little
tolerance of dissent. Scholars have illustrated the eČect of Russia's long history of totalitari-
anism and autocratic rule on political participation and the development of democracy in
general. Some cite the longstanding cycle wherein dissent amongst the Russian masses and
intelligentsia was met with repression from the tsars who feared relinquishing their auto-
cratic power, and others suggest that this total control exerted by the tsar over the his realm
meant that the average Russian had no concept of private property and, thus, little concept of
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
the pride of individual ownership and agency. Into the Putin era, ¨this regime of oppression
became institutionalized, attacks on regime opponents stopped being extraordinary tasks
and became routine ones."
ćus, Russians ĕnd themselves ĕghting against several centuries
of Russian institutional development.
Second, what experiences Russia has had with democratic rule have been ill handled
times of social and economic upheaval which have leę many understandably suspicious
of democracy. While many Russian people do appreciate the egalitarian concepts behind
democracy and hope for the prosperity of states, the realities of the botched liberalization
eČorts of Gorbachev and Yeltsin have spawned bitter disillusionment. će detrimental ef-
fects of their programs have leę ¨the policies and political leaders of the 1990s.totally
discredited" along with faith in the democratization in general.
As such, Russia's historical
experience has created an environment where political activity and dissent on the part of
the average citizen is not only limited by the regime in power, but also looked askance at by
a populous that has learned to be wary of democratic processes.
će economy is another far-reaching factor with a similar inĘuence on the development
of democratic processes like participation in Russia. Despite Russia's history of totalitar-
ian regimes, in a World Values survey conducted in Russia in 2006, over a decade aęer the
breakup of the USSR, 90.2° of respondents indicated that they found it at least somewhat
important to live in a democratically governed country.
Why, then, are Russians so unlikely
to utilize political participation in order to create a civil society and other structures nec-
essary for a functioning democracy: će answer can not only be found in the historically
ingrained fear of consequences handed down from repressive regimes, but also in Russia's
recent economic past.
će initial years of Russian democratization brought with them economic diďculties
and general hardship worse than that seen under Communism. Indeed, the images of long
lines to get into under stocked markets with empty shelves that so many Westerners as-
sociate with Russia are related to this era. As a result, economic stability and a return to
normalcy have become important goals of the state in the minds of many Russians.
is particularly meaningful in the context of the Putin and Medvedev regimes which have
brought Russia into an era of increasingly centralized power which has included ¨the de-
cline of freedom and fairness in Russian elections, the weakening of independent media,
2 Brian D.ڀTaylor, State Building in Putin's Russia: Policing and Coercion aęer Communism (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 2011), 303.
3 Vladimir Popov, ¨će Long Road to Normalcy: Where Russia Now Stands," in Russia: the Challenges of Transformation, eds.
Piotr Dutkiewicz and Dmitri Treninڀ(New York: New York University Press, 2011), 30.
4 World Values Survey, 2006,
3 In the 2006 World Values Survey, 74.1° of respondents said that ¨a high level of economic growth" should be Russia's most
important aim in coming years.
Lara Nichols
[and] civil society crackdown."
However, the past decade under Putin (elected in 2000)
andMedvedev (elected out of Putin's United Russia Party in 2008) has also been one of com-
parative economic stability. In this sense, Putin has come to be seen as a sort of anti-Yeltsin
who represents ¨the de facto denial of the across the board liberalization policies of.his
Evidence of the connection between economic approval and approval of the
regime is seen in the ĕgure below which shows the approval ratings of the economy and
the current president from 1991 to 2009, a period covering the Yeltsin presidency, the Putin
presidency, and the very beginning of Medvedev's term in oďce.
(Fig. 1) Percent of respondents who approved of the economy and the current presi-
dent from years 1991-2009
Aside from a period of optimistic faith in Yeltsin at the very beginning of his term-
and thus the very beginning of his liberalizing reforms-the two trends are remarkably
similar, suggesting that, whatever the Russian people's opinion of government institu-
tions in general, their approval of individual leaders is generally dependent on economic
changes. Furthermore, it indicates that, as much as Russians might approve of the idea of
6 Taylor, 243.
7 Popov, 30.
8 Daniel Treisman,ڀće Return: Russia's Journey from Gorbachev to Medvedev (New York, Free Press, 2011), 248.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
a democratic government, economic stability is a priority. ćus, leaders like Putin can get
away with a more state-centric and repressive leadership style so long as they return life to
a state of ¨normalcy" and economic stability.
However, below in Figure 2, one sees the more recent ĕgures taken from the Levada
Center for the percentage of respondents who approved of both the economy and the cur-
rent president. It should be noted that near the end of 2011 the approval ratings for the
economy and the president cross and continue in opposite directions. ćis could be ac-
counted for by the December 4 parliamentary election scandal that rocked the country
when both European observers and Russian voters alike accused the government of rigging
the vote in favor of Putin and Medvedev's United Russia party through ballot stuďng and
other procedural violations.

It remains to be seen whether this disparity in approval ratings is a temporary blip such
as the one at the beginning of Yeltsin's term or whether it is an indicator of a more permanent
change in Russian sentiment. Indeed, Putin's recent re-ascension to the Russian presidency
earlier this year in an election just as highly contested as the one in December has leę his
credibility more in question than ever. Perhaps, as a younger generation of Russians with
little or no memory of the Soviet Union and the Cold War comes of age, Putin's promise of
trading in certain freedoms to avoid the economic instability of the Gorbachev and Yeltsin
years will do less and less to assuage his constituency.
9 ¨Fresh Voices against Russia's Old Regime,"ڀϗүҬҪҮҪ-ҠүҷҼҺ (Levada Center). Yuri Levada Analytical Center, January 11,
2012. Accessed March 23, 2012.°E2°80°99s-old-regime.
Lara Nichols
(Fig. 2) Percent of respondents who approved of the economy and the current presi-
dent from January 2010-December 2011

Voting, at least in name, has been a part of the Russian experience for many years. Even
under Communism, elections were common, although they were generally single party and
single candidate aČairs at odds with the type of voting seen in Western democracies. ćis
began to change with the introduction of the elected Congress of People's Deputies under
Gorbachev's perestroika reforms in the eighties and has continued in this post-Soviet period
with the Duma, the popularly elected parliamentary body of the Russian Federation. While
the number of voters in these elections is generally high-around 60° for the Duma and
63° or 70° for the presidency
-and well above the minimum levels required for elections
10 Data compiled from polls taken from the Levada Center's English language subsidiary Questions used
included ¨How would you estimate Russia's present economic situation:" and ¨On the whole do you approve or disapprove of the
performance of Dmitri Medvedev:"
11 Sergei Lounev, ¨Russia,"ڀin Voter Turnout since 1943: a Global Report (Stockholm: International Institute for Democracy
and Electoral Assistance, 2002), 31-34.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
these results must be taken in the context of Russia's history.
In the Soviet Union voting,
though not technically mandatory, was highly encouraged to the point where abstention
could be interpreted as a statement against the ruling party resulting in turnout that was
oęen as high as 99°. ćis phenomenon under Soviet leadership makes judging contempo-
rary voter turnout more complicated since, by these numbers, voter turnout has actually
decreased since Russia began its democratization process. It is also diďcult to determine
whether it is practices and traditions held over from the Soviet Era that are responsible for
these high levels of turnout, or whether it is the result of a genuine interest in participation.
Indeed, foreign observers of Russian elections have returned with mixed feelings re-
garding the legitimacy of the election process there. While elections are democratic in the
sense that multiple parties are represented on the ballot rather than just the Communist
candidate, it seems that there are still reasons to question the validity of Russian elections. In
2004 the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) observed Russia's
presidential elections, reporting that ¨though generally well managed, the nature of the
election process, in which the incumbent president [Putin] largely refrained from conven-
tional campaigning, and the absence of rigorous scrutiny by the media, have meant that
this election cannot be seen as a fundamental test of the Russian democratic system."

ćis, combined with accusations of ballot stuďng and voter coercion, suggests that, while
voter turnout rate is high in Russia, these elections are not genuine indicators of participa-
tion levels. Russian voters and Western observers reiterated these concerns during the most
recent Duma and presidential elections in which allegations of coercion and ballot stuďng
were also made.
Nonvoting Participation
Given that the level of voter turnout in Russian elections is possibly falsely augmented,
nonvoting contributions to elections become a more meaningful indicator of Russian par-
ticipation. In a series of surveys conducted over a period from 1993 to 2003, 4° and fewer
of Russians had ever participated in collecting signatures, 4° and fewer had ever agitated for
a candidate or party, fewer than 6° had ever attended election rallies and assemblies, and
fewer than 1° had ever donated money to a campaign.
Furthermore, in 2006 fewer than
3° of Russians were members of a political party and fewer than 1° claimed to be active
12 će Russian Constitution requires a 23° voter turnout for parliamentary elections and at least a 30° turnout for presiden-
tial elections.
13 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe. Oďce for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights,ڀPress Re-
lease.ڀRussian Election Generally Well Administered but Lacking Elements of a Genuine Democratic Contest. OSCE, March 14,
2004. Accessed October 24, 2011.
14 Timothy Colton and Henry Hale,ڀRussian Election Study 2003-2004. Accessed October 26, 2011.
Lara Nichols
ćis is at once an indicator of the low level of political participation in Russia
and is suggestive of a weak party system.
In recent months, however, the suspicious elections have also fueled a sharp spike in
public protest in Russia. As of December 2011, several protest rallies, some with groups of
attendees numbering in the tens and hundreds of thousands, have been held thoughout
Russia, though mostly in Moscow. Moreover, these protests have in turn inspired several
well-attended pro-Putin rallies. It is unclear at this point exactly what percentage of the
population has been mobilized by these rallies and to what extent this type of participa-
tory action will continue aęer this initial period of backlash against recent elections. ćis
question is particularly salient since, although multiple parties and groups have held rallies
against Putin and his supporters, the opposition remains largely fragmented and has yet to
coalesce into a political force capable of threatening Putin in the long-term. Although his
approval ratings have decreased, Putin still remains Russia's most popular individual politi-
cian. Unless the opposition can become a legitimate combined force with a popular indi-
vidual candidate at its center, its ultimate eČectiveness remains unclear.
While protesting is an obvious form of non-voting participation, there are other quieter,
less contentious methods that Russians have used in order to assert themselves politically.
¨Contacting," for example, is a term developed by scholar Dannielle N. Lussier that involves
phoning, writing, or otherwise communicating with an oďcial (whether at the local, region-
al, or national level) and constitutes another variety of nonvoting participation. Near the end
of the Soviet era in 1990, contacting was a regularly used form of nonvoting participation
under Communism: around 30° of the population had contacted authorities regarding
an issue or problem.
By 2003, this number had decreased to 9.3°, which, though low in
comparison to the 1990 ĕgure, is still higher than the concrete numbers available regarding
the other forms of participation discussed thus far.
Finally, while contacting is a legitimate
form of participation, it should be noted that it does not necessarily aid in entrenching
democratic values since it allows oďcials to deal with the people's concerns on a private
level without having to acknowledge faults publicly or enforce government accountability.

Other forms of nonvoting participation have also been on a decline in Russia since per-
estroika and early optimism following the breakup of the USSR. However, as of 2006, only
8.2° of Russians had ever signed a petition, 23.4° had attended a lawful demonstration,
13 World Values Survey Association, World Values Survey 2006 Wave Data Files, 2009,
16 ¨Fresh Voices."
17 James L. Gibson and Raymond M. Duch,ڀSurvey of Soviet Values. Inter-University Consortium for Political and Social
Research, 1990. Accessed October 26, 2011.
18 Colton and Hale.
19 Danielle N. Lussier, ¨Contacting and Complaining: Political Participation and the Failure of Democracy in Russia," Post-
Soviet AČairs 27.3 (2011): 314.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
and merely 2.4° had ever joined in a boycott.
ćese trends, particularly regarding the
diČerences between illegal and government sanctioned acts, seem to reĘect the initial op-
timism and freedom of expression caused by perestroika, the disillusionment with democ-
racy and democratic processes of the 90s, and Putin's controlling attitude towards dissent.
Furthermore, while the recent spike in protesting could augur some kind of permanent
change, it is unclear whether rallies will disappear like the wave of similar gatherings
prompted by perestroika that lasted through the ĕrst year or two of democratization and
eventually faded, or whether they will become an entrenched democratic habit. ćese pro-
tests are indicative of the democratic potential of the Russian people, but because similar
periods of participation quickly died away, it would be overly hasty to assume that these
protests will undo the two decades of low participation levels in the Russian Federation.
Political engagement is a term I use to describe the individual's awareness of the politics
and issues of the day in a way that is separate from whether that individual thinks he or she
is able to make a diČerence as a private citizen in the policy world. Rather, it assesses that
individual's ability to comprehend issues and to look at the government with a critical and
discerning eye, even if those ĕndings are not acted upon. Several groups of data are used
here to thoroughly assess personal political engagement amongst Russians. ćese factors
include the perceived awareness, media legitimacy and freedom, and the potential for par-
ticipation (i.e. whether people approve of various methods for participation as a potential
recourse). ćroughout this section, several of the polls used will include data from two dif-
ferent entrenched democracies-the United States (a presidential federal democracy) and
Sweden (a unitary parliamentary democracy)-to give context and meaning to the Russian
data and provide numerical benchmarks for comparison.
(Table. 1) News Sources: Percent who used the given news source last week to obtain
Russian Federation United States Sweden
Daily Newspaper 33.8° 64.2° 94.3°
News broadcasts on radio or
94.2° 87.4° 97.9°
Printed Magazines 30.9° 44.2° 60.6°
20 World Values Survey. World Values Survey Association, 1990, 1996, 1999, 2006. Accessed October 26, 2011. http://www.
21 World Values Survey, 2006.
Lara Nichols
In depth reports on radio or TV 70.4° 61.7° 74.1°
Books 34.9° 31.3° 44.0°
Internet, Email 19.4° 67.3° 71.1°
Talk with friends or colleagues 83.9° 82.2° 92.6°
će statistics displayed in Table 1 comparing political interest and information dis-
semination seem somewhat surprising given that two of these states are considered to be
patently democratic while one of them is not. While Russians tend to place less importance
on politics than their more democratized counterparts, Russia and the US are generally on
par when it comes to citizens being informed on a personal level, and both are surpassed by
Sweden. It seems clear that, whatever the status of Russian democracy, the drive to obtain
information from news and media sources or to discuss issues of the day with friends and
family has not been drastically reduced.
Indeed, the only signiĕcantly disparate set of numbers is the percentage of respondents
utilizing the email and the Internet. Since this set of data dates back to 2006 when com-
puter technology was not as widespread as it is today, it is necessary to reference some more
modern data that takes these fast moving technological advances into account. According
to the Internet World Stats: Usage and Population Statistics report, all three countries have
seen a jump in the number of Internet users over the past few years. As of March 2011, 78.2°
of the population in the United States used the Internet. As of June 2010, 92.4° of Swedes
were Internet users, and in Russia that same number made a signiĕcant jump from 19.4°
to 43.0°.
While this number isn't as high as the other two countries, the increase is signiĕ-
cant, especially since the Internet is one of the more diďcult areas of media and information
dissemination for the government to control.
Media Legitimacy
While the number of Russians using news media sources to absorb information regard-
ing current political and social events is impressive and on par with more established de-
mocracies like the United States and Sweden, the freedom of those media sources, and their
ability to oČer viewpoints in opposition to the government line is questionable. According
to Freedom House, which conducts a press freedom survey as well as a general freedom
survey of political and civil liberties, Russia receives a Press Freedom rating of ¨Not Free."

Furthermore, when comparing the changes in the Press Freedom ratings between countries,
Russia is in the category of countries whose score has declined the most during the 2006
22 Press Freedom Index. Reporters Without Borders for Press Freedom, 2010. Accessed October 26, 2011.
23 Press Freedom Index.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
to 2011 analysis period. ćis poor showing is due to the fact that much of the mainstream
media, particularly television, is tied to the Kremlin, and dissenting voices are frequently
Reporters Without Borders also oČers a comparative analysis of media health with a
numerical ranking system in which countries are placed in order according to the ability of
the media to speak honestly about the government and oČer ideological challenges with-
out fear of reprisal. In the 2010 survey, Russia received a ranking of 140 out of 178 in the
worldwide index, placing it in the category of ¨countries under surveillance."
Like Freedom
House, Reporters Without Borders mentions the way in which Russian media is kept on a
tight leash by its state or state inĘuenced owners. However, opinions tend to be more diverse
in print resources, like the Novaya Gazeta, and in the few independent radio news sources.
Additionally, press freedom tends to vary from region to region within Russia depending
on the local government.
Still, severe issues mitigating the press' ability to operate freely in Russia temper these
promising developments. će country has seen several disturbing instances of violence
against members of the press including Anastasia Babyrova, Mikhail Beketov (who was
disabled aęer a series of violent attacks), and the infamous murder of Anna Politkovskaya.
Increased government interference and attempts to regulate the Internet have also become
a factor in Russia's low ranking. Website blocking and attempts to censor independent news
outlet sites and even social networking sites like LiveJournal have all been problematic. će
blogosphere has also been targeted by the Russian government, which has prosecuted sever-
al bloggers through the questionable application of a vague ¨anti-extremism" law amended
in 2007.
In comparison to Russia's ranking in the worldwide index, the United States ranks 99
out of 178. Reporters Without Borders suggests that American media is generally free, but
the lack of government transparency and unwillingness to pass key legislation protecting the
media mitigates the press' freedoms. For example, a federal shield law, which would allow
journalists to protect their sources, has been passed by the House of Representatives, but was
voted down by the Senate. Furthermore, the implementation of the Freedom of Information
Act has been repeatedly blocked. Political issues, like the Guantanamo Bay torture scandal,
are also cited as evidence of institutional opacity.

In comparison to Russia and the US, Sweden shared ĕrst place out of 178 with Finland,
Iceland, Norway, the Netherlands, and Switzerland. ćese countries, beyond encouraging
24 Ibid.
23 Ibid.
26 Ibid.
Lara Nichols
the media to speak freely, also oČer unique levels of media protection from government
reprisals to criticism.
Although the use of media by citizens is not particularly diČerent between democratic
countries like Sweden and the United States and non-democratic Russia, the quality and
freedom of the media and its ability to speak honestly about the government might mitigate
participation. If state controlled media is able to hush up potentially embarrassing informa-
tion, people will have less to complain, and potentially express concern, about. Furthermore,
even if an issue personally aČects someone, they may be less inclined to speak out if they
have witnessed past instances where voices of dissent were silenced through blacklisting or
violence. It seems that media legitimacy is an area where Russia's Communist past, during
which the public sphere was closely monitored and history was essentially rewritten to favor
the central party, is still inĘuencing the way dissenting voices are handled by the Russian
Potential for Participation
Although Russians spend a comparable amount of time and eČort staying informed
to their democratic counterparts, they are not nearly as accepting of nonvoting forms of
participation, particularly when it comes to potentially contentious acts like boycotting and
signing petitions. In Russia, less than a third of the number of Americans and Swedes who
either have or would consider signing a petition or joining a boycott would support these
same actions. It seems that, despite the recent outbreak of protests, Russians are generally
still cautious regarding acts that could seem declamatory or in stated opposition to the
powers that be. Indeed, the number of Russians willing to participate in demonstrations
speciĕed as ¨lawful" and ¨peaceful" (such as rallies held by the party in power to show oČ
their support to the opposition), while still less than that in the United States and Sweden,
is behind by a much smaller margin.

Conclusions on Engagement
će data explored here supports the hypothesis that Russians are relatively politically
engaged in a manner that is comparable to more established democratic societies like the
United States and Sweden. Quality and freedom of Russian media aside, indicators suggest
that Russians are spending the time to become informed when it comes to issues salient to
their lives, indicating that lack of political engagement is not the only, or even the prima-
ry, issue holding back levels of participation. However, there is evidence that Russians are
27 Ibid.
28 World Values Survey, 2006.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
unwilling to put this knowledge into practice and remain skeptical regarding participation's
usefulness and attractiveness as a potential recourse.
As analysis of the eďcacy variable begins, three questions raised by the data in this
engagement section must be kept in mind: are institutional issues causing skepticism of the
utility of participation: Can a low sense of eďcacy explain the comparative lack of impor-
tance Russians place on politics: And where does media legitimacy factor into this variable:
ćus far, it seems that engagement with the issues themselves is not the variable causing
the low rates of participation in Russia. However, there is a disconnect between the level of
knowledge and the desire to act upon it that has yet to be explained.
Eďcacy involves the relationship citizens have with various institutions including the
government, media, law enforcement, etc. and whether these perceptions on the part of
Russians create a sense of cynicism that might explain low participation levels. će factors
discussed within this variable will include sense of eďcacy, sense of agency, generalized
trust, institutional trust, and conĕdence. All of these factors discuss the perception Russians
have of their political environment and how this sense of their place in it might aČect the
choice to participate.
Sense of Ecacy
In its simplest terms, political eďcacy is the sense an individual has that he or she
has a 'say' in their government and could, if they so chose, inĘuence the political process.
According to a series of polls taken in 1993, 1996, and 2004, Russians have an abysmally
low sense of eďcacy, with results wavering around a mere 10° of respondents who feel that
they have inĘuence over policy and oďcials.
With this amount of data, there is little to do
but take the low levels of political eďcacy in Russia at face value, suggesting that Russians
feel out of touch with their government and unable, as citizens, to assert any inĘuence on
political processes.
Sense of Agency
For the purposes of this analysis, as per the survey question used to generate the data
shown in Table 2, sense of agency is deĕned as an individual's sense of autonomy and control
in determining the course of his or her own life.
29 JeČrey W. Hahn and Igor Logvinenko, ¨Generational DiČerences in Russian Attitudes Towards Democracy and the
Economy," Europe-Asia Studies 60.8 (2008): 1343-1369.
Lara Nichols
(Table 2) How much freedom of choice and control do you think you have in the way your
life turns out: (percent)
Russian Federation United States Sweden
Little control 10.6° 1.7° 2.2°
Some control 39.8° 40.9° 33.8°
Signiĕcant control 49.8° 37.6° 63.9°
While nowhere in this data is it suggested that a particular institution or group of insti-
tutions is to blame for the levels of agency described by this poll, it seems signiĕcant that the
low levels of eďcacy experienced in Russia are mirrored in Table 2 by a comparatively high
percentage of Russians who feel that they have little control over their lives, especially when
related to their democratic counterparts. While this connection does not directly prove that
institutions are responsible for the lack of participation in Russia, it lends credence to the
idea that a low sense of eďcacy and a want of control over one's life could lead to a sense of
helplessness or even cynicism in political matters.
Generalized Trust and its Implications
Generalized trust is another concept that, though more abstract than some of the other
factors discussed in this section, contributes to a general understanding of the relationship
between Russia's people and its institutions. Analysts of generalized trust observe the way
in which levels of trust (in people one knows, members of one's community, strangers, and
people in general) aČect the way that governments, policy makers, and other institutions
of the state are perceived. Authors like Eric M. Uslaner observe levels of trust as a moral
value which only changes slowly over time and which can be revealing when analyzing the
conĕdence of citizens in their state. In his book će Moral Foundations of Trust, Uslaner
is careful to diČerentiate between the two kinds of trust, by stating that ¨the 'standard' trust
question (¨most people can be trusted") really is about trusting people 'we' don't know. ćere
are diČerent types of trust. Putting faith in strangers is moralistic trust. Having conĕdence
in people you know is strategic trust. Trust in strangers is largely based on an optimistic
view of the world and a sense that we can make it better."

ćese two diČerent types of trust, the moral or generalized trust and strategic trust, have
diČerent implications for a given government. Established democracies tend to have higher
levels of generalized trust, not as a direct cause of democratic institutions, but ¨because they
30 World Values Survey, 2006.
31 Eric M. Uslaner,ڀe Moral Foundations of Trust (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 4.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
depend upon cultural foundations (individualism, Protestantism, egalitarianism) that are
conducive to faith in strangers."
In this way, trust isn't an infallible method of determining
whether a given state is a democracy, but a higher level of trust is instrumental in ¨making
democracy work" with more eďcient bureaucracies and institutions with less corruption.

Trust in the government itself, Uslaner argues, is more similar to strategic trust, which is
established aęer continued positive experiences with an individual. In this way, a knowledge
of the way in which Russian trust levels ĕt into Uslaner's theories regarding generalized trust
could be symptomatic of the nature of Russia's institutions and whether they are run in a
manner conducive to democratic political participation.
Certainly, Uslaner is careful to point out the pitfalls of using trust as a barometer of
people's faith in the democratic eČectiveness of institutions, stating that ¨democracies make
trust possible. ćey don't necessarily produce it. Totalitarian governments make trust im-
plausible, though not impossible."
ćus, although the relationships between generalized
trust, democracy, and its implications for political participation are somewhat tenuous,
a look at trust levels in context might reveal some general attitudes about institutions in
Russia, particularly in light of Uslaner's position that the cultural foundations that help forge
democracy are oęentimes the same ones which foster higher levels of trust.
(Table 3) How much do you trust.:
Russian Federation United States Sweden
Your neighborhood 67.6° 80.2° 90.7°
People you know personally 83.4° 93.9° 98.3°
People you meet for the ĕrst
14.3° 40.3° 69.3°
In these ĕgures taken from the 2006 World Values Survey, Russia is clearly the most
distrustful of the three countries analyzed, followed by the United States and then Sweden.
ćese results, taken in the light of Uslaner's analysis, seem expected given previous data re-
garding the levels of freedom and democracy present in each of these states. It is interesting
to note that, while Russia is the least trusting across the board, the percentage of Russians
who say they generally trust people they meet for the ĕrst time (i.e. strangers or people in
32 Ibid, 8.
33 Robert D. Putnam, Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1993), 47.
34 Uslaner, 226.
33 World Values Survey, 2006.
Lara Nichols
general) is incredibly low both in comparison to the equivalent data from the United States
and Sweden and to the other levels of trust measured in Russia. ćis suggests a suspicion of
corruption and ineďciency in institutions given that the levels of general (moralized) trust
amongst Russians are fairly low, and also that, were these institutions to prove themselves
over time, the levels of trust and conĕdence might increase.
As Uslaner notes, trust is not a perfect indicator of conĕdence in institutions and gov-
ernment as it is a value that moves slowly over time. However, it is an indicator of the level
of entrenchment of a democracy and functioning democratic institutions, as levels of trust
tend to be higher in governments with a long democratic history. If Russia's institutions were
functioning in such a way that they might facilitate the type of participation and political
interest generally seen in the country's democratic counterpoints, one might expect to see
higher trust levels.
Institutional Trust
Uslaner's concept of generalized trust allows one to make broad generalizations about
Russian society and moral infrastructure and formulate vague hypotheses about trust in
institutions. However, the Edelman Trust Index, a report that surveys citizens of the world's
ten highest GDPs and evaluates their trust in various institutions, provides information that
is decidedly more concrete. According to the 2011 Index, Russia is one of the lowest scor-
ing high GDP countries when it comes to conĕdence in its institutions. Indeed, only 41°
of Russians said they trust businesses ¨to do what is right," and only 31° answered aďrma-
tively when the same was asked about their government, bringing Russia in last and second
to last on the business and government trust scales respectively. Furthermore, Russia also
received last place in the overall trust barometer, with a score of 40 out of 100. Meanwhile,
the median score was 33 out of 100.

Ultimately, it seems that Russians are comparably unable to depend on their private
and public institutions to act in their interests or according to an acceptable moral code. In
this way, the hypothesis created via trust analysis following Uslaner's ideas--namely, that
Russians are less likely than the citizens of many other developed countries to believe that in-
stitutions will act morally and for the greater good--is corroborated. ćis mistrust suggests
that Russians are disconnected from their institutions and might feel that these institutions
inhibit their political eďcacy as individuals.
36 2011 Edelman Trust Barometer Executive Summary. Edelman, 2011. Accessed October 26, 2011.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
Condence in Institutions
Many polls contain questions that, rather than asking for approval, ask respondents for
their level of conĕdence in a particular institution. 'Conĕdence' is a somewhat ambiguous
term, which could be interpreted by respondents in several ways: an approval rating, a level
of trust, belief in the ability of the organization to achieve its goals, conviction that a given
institution is operating with the respondent's best interests at heart, etc. For this reason, it is
somewhat diďcult to properly interpret what results from polls regarding conĕdence might
mean, but they are still interesting to look at when they relate to institutions that might aČect
an individual's choice to engage in political participation.
(Table 4) How much conĕdence do you have in.: (° of respondents who answered ¨a great
deal" or ¨quite a lot of conĕdence")
Russian Federation United States Sweden
će Press 36.9° 23.0° 33.1°
će Police 33.3° 70.3° 77.8°
će Parliament/ Legislature 29.9° 20.6° 36.3°
Television 43.3° 23.4° 33.0°
će Government 43.3° 38.2° 42.3°
će vague semantics of this question are important to keep in mind when evaluating
the results garnered from respondents. Indeed, the 2006 World Values Survey results dis-
played in Table 4 do not seem to be entirely consistent with the results on eďcacy and trust
discussed previously. In fact, according to these results, out of the three countries analyzed,
Russia is the most conĕdent in the press and the government and the second most conĕ-
dent in television and the parliament. However, at 33.3°, compared to the US and Sweden's
70.3 and 77.8° respectively, Russia is by far the least conĕdent in its police force. ćis
detail, at least, is consistent with Uslaner's suggestion that societies that display low levels
of trust towards strangers, as Russia did, tend to be very skeptical and mistrustful towards
law enforcement.

It is quite notable that Russians are so mistrustful of the government institution they
have the most personal contact with in day-to-day life, especially since the lack of transpar-
ency in the media means that the police are also one of the institutional groups of which
they probably have the most accurate impression. Indeed, ¨most Russians have either had an
37 World Values Survey, 2006.
38 Uslaner, 228.
Lara Nichols
encounter with a corrupt or abusive police oďcer or know someone who has."
Sweden, lauded for the transparency in its media and the government, has some of the
highest conĕdence numbers overall; even in instances where it does not have the highest
percentage, it is always a close second. će US, like Russia, has been criticized for a certain
lack of transparency in government and media. Interestingly, however, Americans seem to
be more cynical than Russians of every institution except the police force. Perhaps this is the
result of a media and government just transparent enough to reveal their faults:
ćere is a risk of reading too much into data from an ambiguous question like this one.
Suďce to say, Sweden's generally high levels of institutional conĕdence are consistent with
its position as an entrenched democracy with a trusting society and Russia's extreme lack of
conĕdence in the police helps to justify Uslaner's theory. će results from the US and Russia
are less straightforward, although potentially explainable using other factors including
American frustration with an overly politicized media and party system and the prevalence
of state control in Russia. će data here does not disprove the idea that the Russian people's
relationship with institutions is signiĕcantly responsible for the lack of political participa-
tion. However, the uncertain meaning of the question highlights the diČerence between
conĕdence in an institution's ability to function from day-to-day in the most basic sense and
trust that it will operate smoothly and ethically with the best interests of the public in mind.
Conclusions on Ecacy
Overall, Russian faith in politicians to protect the interests of the citizenry is quite low
and any sense of political eďcacy is even lower. Even though Russians are willing to vote in
elections and do so frequently, there is a sense that elected oďcials quickly fall out of touch
with their constituents and that other methods of participation are rarely eČective. In short,
there is enough cynicism regarding the ability and intentions of institutions that they are
rarely utilized in a democratic way. While judging exactly what is meant by 'conĕdence' in
a given institution is impossible, this data, when combined with the low levels of eďcacy,
agency, and trust in Russia indicates that, while Russians may be relatively conĕdent in the
government's administrative ability in the rudimentary sense of running the state, there is
still a disconnect between oďcials and the voice of the people at large. Furthermore, the
questionable ethics demonstrated in the media and in elections call into question the abil-
ity of these institutions to administer their services well, even to those that do have trust in
39 Taylor, 207.
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
će polling data used here to analyze potential reasons for the lack of political participa-
tion in Russia contradicts the notion that citizens are disengaged in politics or uninvolved
in gathering and interpreting related news and information. It seems that any cynicism
towards politics stems, not from a belief that Russian institutions are completely ineČective
as administrators or that politics is irrelevant, but from the idea that there is a gap between
the people and the government that inhibits empathy and eČective communication between
Indeed, compared to the United States and Sweden, Russians do seem to feel less control
over their lives in general and little eďcacy when dealing with their government. Between
the low level of trust amongst Russians regarding the government's ability to ¨do what is
right" and the modest number willing to engage in political participation outside of voting,
there is a sense of perceived futility connected to any attempt at a grassroots political eČort.
će goal of this analysis was to determine whether a lack of personal engagement or
a low sense of eďcacy better elucidates the lack of participation in Russia by focusing on
the individual level. Overall, eďcacy oČers the most comprehensive explanation for the low
participation levels in Russia. ćere are of course points where the two variables intercon-
nect, and complications in the data reĘect the really unusual nature of the Russian state and
the way that the government functions. Although elements of the Russian government are
democratic in theory, the Putin-Medvedev regime, like Yeltsin, is comfortable circumvent-
ing democratic processes when it is beneĕcial to its image and aims. ćere is a diČerence
between the normative state, for which ¨democracy remains the legitimating ideology," and
the realities of the administrative state, which is willing to ignore democratic ideals in favor
of expediency and a regime-centered power structure. ćis is particularly evident regard-
ing the issue of political awareness. Polls show that Russians are active in their use of media
and communication to learn about news and scholars, journalists, and politicians are able to
discuss the political system to an extent. However, this dialogue is ¨tolerated by the regime
[only] so long as [it] does not take structured independent political form."
Russian po-
litical classiĕcation dwells in a hazy place between democracy and authoritarianism where
the people are somewhat free to discuss the operation of their government and its inherent
parts, yet are generally barred from initiating change if they should take issue with some-
thing they ĕnd there.
In this way, a lowered sense of political eďcacy best accounts for the lack of partici-
pation in Russia at an individual level. Yet, to oČer a complete analysis it is valuable to re-
visit the alternative aggregate level variables-the historical and economic explanations.
While a low sense of eďcacy created by controlling and less than transparent institutions
40 Piotr Dutkiewicz and Dmitriʙ Trenin,ڀRussia: the Challenges of Transformation (New York: New York University Press,
2011), 99-100.
Lara Nichols
accounts for a lack of individual motivation to participate, the alternative aggregate theories
are needed to explain the development of these prohibitive institutions and why they are so
slow to change.
A history of autocracy and totalitarianism in Russia has enabled repressive institutions
to exist and, to an extent, to be accepted. Meanwhile, a desire to preserve the long awaited
economic stability of the Putin-Medvedev years has historically given Russians less incen-
tive to engage in protest. Russians are dissuaded from participation, not only by a strong
state with repressive tendencies, but by the threat of losing what economic gains they have
made under the current system. Whatever democratic ideals some Russians may have, they
are oęen overpowered by a desire for stability and a comfortable way of life. For example,
although Putin and Medvedev's approval ratings have been much higher than Yeltsin's (in
accordance with economic performance at the time), the Russian people's trust in most
other institutions, including those run by the state, has remained the same.
Indeed, it is
important not to confuse the Russian government's failure to develop into a functioning
democracy that people can trust to act ethically and morally with a failure to serve as a rea-
sonably successful administrative and economically stabilizing force.
će exact relationship between the sense of eďcacy (individual) and economic and his-
torical (aggregate) variables is an issue that bears further research. While it seems unlikely
that many Russians today would be willing to sacriĕce economic stability in favor of a mass
government overhaul, there is still a demonstrated appreciation for democratic ideals of
equality and representation that suggests that such a thing is not impossible, a theory proven
by the recent outbursts of protest over the 2011 Duma and 2012 Presidential elections.
Greater historical and economic forces prop up the institutions that inhibit the informed
and willing Russian populace from participating in the political process and, until this status
quo changes, the democratic potential of the Russian people will remain largely untapped.
Furthermore, although suspicions regarding the legitimacy of recent elections have
prompted a smattering of signiĕcant protests, if the opposition fails to coalesce and make
this kind of participation into a permanent habit, then nothing will have changed. As scholar
Nikolai Petro of the Carnegie Endowment's Moscow Center said of the opposition's goal to
replace Putin with a more legitimate leader, ¨će problem is not to replace a bad czar with a
better one.će problem is to change the whole system and to exercise democracy not once
in ten years to replace the czar, but on a daily basis."
41 Taylor, 207.
42 ¨Fresh Voices."
e Lack of Political Participation in Russia and Russia’s Democratic Future
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26, 2011.°20executive°20summary.pdf.
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26, 2011.
Dutkiewicz, Piotr, and Dmitriʙ Trenin.ڀRussia: the Challenges of Transformation. New
York: New York University Press, 2011.
Gibson, James L., and Raymond M. Duch.ڀSurvey of Soviet Values. Inter-University
Consortium for Political and Social Research, 1990. Accessed October 26, 2011. .
Hahn, JeČrey W., and Igor Logvinenko. ¨Generational DiČerences in Russian Attitudes
towards Democracy and the Economy." Europe-Asia Studies 60.8 (2008): 1343-
Linz, Juan J., and Alfred Stepan. Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation:
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Hopkins University Press, 1996.
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Failure of Democracy in Russia." Post-Soviet AČairs 27.3 (2011): 289-323.
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and Human Rights.ڀRussian Election Generally Well Administered but Lacking
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October 26, 2011.
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the Challenges of Transformation, edited by Piotr Dutkiewicz and Dmitri Trenin,
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Princeton University Press, 1993.
Taylor, Brian D.ڀ State Building in Putin’s Russia: Policing and Coercion aer Communism.
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Treisman, Daniel.ڀe Return: Russia’s Journey from Gorbachev to Medvedev. New
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Press, 2002.
World Values Survey. 2006. Accessed December 1, 2011.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican
Dual Citizenship, Expatriate Voting, and the Appeal of Migrant
Political Candidates
Pedro Ramirez
is paper explores the phenomenon of expatriate voting and other forms of transnational
political participation in the case of Mexicans living in the United States. In the mid-1990s, the
Mexican government abandoned decades of exclusionary policies and began to incorporate
migrants in the electoral process. Dual nationality was nally allowed and migrants were able
to cast their votes for the presidential elections of 2006 from abroad for the rst time. Despite
these positive changes, voter turnout in 2006 was a big disappointment and expatriate voting
remained limited to a relatively small pool of potential voters. While the government has spent
considerable resources to improve the expatriate voting process in time for this year’s presiden-
tial elections, migrant activists like Andres Bermudez–the Tomato King–have demonstrated
that the boundaries for migrant political participation can still be stretched further. Migrants
cannot only vote during elections; they can now run for public oce, as well.
In 2000, Vicente Fox made history by becoming Mexico's ĕrst opposition candidate to
win the presidency in over seventy years. Soon aęer being inaugurated, he promised to serve
as president to ¨all 118 million Mexicans"--the one hundred million or so living within
Mexico, and those living abroad.
His announcement symbolized a signiĕcant shię in state
discourse towards migrants, which culminated in the acceptance of dual nationality in 1996,
and continued with the approval of expatriate voting in time for the presidential elections
of 2006. ćis paper will attempt to provide answers to three main questions regarding this
transformation: (1) what factors prompted the Mexican government to change its long-
standing policy towards dual nationality and expatriate voting; (2) what are the shortcom-
ings of current expatriate voting legislation; and (3), expatriate voting aside, what are other
paths available to Mexican migrants who wish to participate in Mexican politics: Answering
1 Helene B. Clausen and Mario A. Velasquez, ¨Migrants, Votes, and the 2006 Mexican Presidential Election," in će Politics,
Economics, and Culture of Mexican-US Migration: Both Sides of the Border, ed. Edward Ashbee et al. (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2007), 300.
PIJıĿļ RĮĺĶĿIJŇ is a senior at the University of Southern California majoring in Interna-
tional Relations-Global Business, and minoring in Cinema-Television and East Asian Languages
and Cultures (Mandarin).
Pedro Ramirez
these questions will require ample historical context, as well as a close analysis of the tug of
war between political forces both within Mexico and in the United States.
e Struggle for Migrant Voting Rights: 1929-2006
For decades, the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) regime denied mi-
grants a space within domestic Mexican politics. As early as 1929, a US-based expatriate
group known as Mexicans Outside Mexico expressed interest in acquiring the right to vote
in Mexican presidential elections from abroad.
će PRI not only ignored their requests, but
also largely ignored the migration phenomenon as a whole. će government viewed emi-
gration as a sign that domestic policies were failing, and thus, brushed it aside.
were oęen seen as 'traitors' who Ęed the country to go beg the Americans for work. Mexican
nationalism--¨defensive and anti-American" by nature--reinforced this oďcial negative
view of migration and interpreted assimilation into American society as an act of ¨disloy-
alty and treason."
Migrants, who by leaving the country had already ¨voted with their feet,"
were also denied opportunities for political participation within Mexico out of fear that they
would support the opposition.

Beginning in the late 1970s and early 1980s, however, migrants' contributions to the
Mexican economy became more apparent, and their economic leverage soon gave way to
limited political inĘuence. Remittances became an important source of foreign exchange
for Mexico. će government, in exchange for their money, was suddenly proud to pro-
claim emigrants its ¨heroic absent sons and daughters."
Hometown associations (HTAs)
boomed throughout the United States, providing the Mexican state with a platform to
communicate with its diaspora. To encourage the continued sending of remittances, the
Mexican government created programs to match remittance funds with public and private
Migrants took advantage of their improved bargaining position and used
their economic power to gain a voice in local politics back home. Since cash contributions
Ęowed from north to south, migrant leaders in the United States began to have a say in
which development projects at home would receive funding and which would not. Local
2 Clausen and Velasquez, 296.
3 Ibid, 296.
4 Carlos Gonzalez Gutiérrez, ¨Fostering Identities: Mexico's Relations with Its Diasporas," će Journal of American History
86.2 (1999): 331.
3 Enrico A. Marcelli and Wayne A. Cornelius, ¨Immigrant Voting in Home-Country Elections: Potential Consequences of
Extending the Franchise to Expatriate Mexicans Residing in the United States," Mexican Studies / Estudios Mexicanos 21.2
(2003): 432.
6 David Fitzgerald, ¨Citizenship à la carte" (Working paper presented at George Mason University's Center for Global Studies,
March 2008): 3. Accessed December 8, 2011.
7 Michael Jones-Correa, ¨Under Two Flags: Dual Nationality in Latin America and Its Consequences for Naturalization in the
United States," International Migration Review 33.4 (2001): 1009.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
Mexican politicians' ability to govern, thus, slowly became restricted by decisions taken
outside Mexican territory.
Migrants were not satisĕed with the limited political gains achieved through their im-
proved economic standing, and once again, expressed a strong desire to participate in the
Mexican electoral process. će amnesty granted to more than two million Mexicans under
the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986 released many migrants from ¨the shack-
les of the clandestine life to which they were sentenced by their undocumented situation"
and facilitated a more visible migrant activist eČort.
Politically-oriented migrant organi-
zations Ęourished throughout the United States. će activist eČort rallying migrants from
Zacatecas--an important 'sending-state' in Mexico--was particularly strong. Organizations
like the Federation of Zacatecan Clubs in Southern California (FCZSC) increased pressure
on the PRI regime in Mexico to provide avenues for migrant political participation.
eČorts in the United States soon attracted the support of Mexican intellectuals and oppo-
sition politicians, and a debate on the possibility of dual nationality and expatriate voting
gained momentum in the mainstream Mexican media.
In the run-up to the Mexican presidential elections of 1988, opposition political par-
ties capitalized on the issue of migrant political rights and began directly appealing to the
migrant population in the United States for political support.
Cuauhtémoc Cardenas, the
presidential candidate from the leę-wing Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD) vis-
ited cities in Texas and California during his campaign tour and collected signatures from
Mexican migrants supporting an expatriate voting initiative.
će center-right National
Action Party (PAN), armed with several victories at the state and local level throughout
Mexico's northern states, utilized its increased political weight to begin formal discussions
on extending the franchise to migrants.
Unfortunately, the PRI regime's grip on power at
the federal level remained strong, and a PRI candidate was once again crowned the victor in
1988. Expatriate voting legislation would have to wait--but not for long.
By the mid-1990s a series of unexpected crises undermined the PRI's credibility and
contributed to the array of forces pushing for the democratization of the regime.
First, the
1988 electoral process was deemed fraudulent by the opposition, and many Mexicans were
convinced that Cardenas was robbed of a clean victory. ćen, on January 1, 1994--the day
8 Gonzalez Gutiérrez, 362.
9 Michael P. Smith and Matt Bakker, Citizenship across Borders: će Political Transnationalism of El Migrante (Ithaca: Cornell
UP, 2008), 132.
10 Ibid, 133.
11 Jones-Correa, 1003.
12 Ibid, 1003.
13 Clausen and Velasquez, 297.
14 Ibid, 298.
Pedro Ramirez
on which the North-American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) went into eČect--the anti-
government Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) movement erupted in Chiapas,
and rebels soon gained partial control of the southern state. Two months later, that year's
PRI presidential candidate, Luis Donaldo Colosio, was assassinated while campaigning in
Tijuana. Adding to the chaos, a sudden devaluation of the peso led to a massive economic
crisis in December 1994. In light of these politically catastrophic events, the PRI vowed to
reform the Federal Electoral Institute (IFE) and ¨move toward greater democratization" in
order to redeem itself. As a result, expatriate voting was once again put on the table.
First on the agenda, however, was the issue of dual nationality. Up until the mid-1990s,
Mexican law did not authorize Mexican nationals who adopted foreign citizenship to main-
tain their Mexican nationality. Public opinion on this issue was split between two factions:
conservatives on one side, and liberals on the other. Conservatives voiced concerns that dual
nationality and the future possibility of expatriate voting would grant Mexican migrants
an unfair advantage over Mexicans living in Mexico. Migrants, they argued, would beneĕt
from participating in Mexican politics without directly bearing the consequences of their
decision-making actions--an argument in line with David Fitzgerald's citizenship à la carte
Furthermore, they argued that expatriate voting would be costly and logistically
problematic and that it ran counter to Mexico's traditional foreign policy principles of re-
spect for national sovereignty and non-intervention.
Liberals, on the other hand, believed
that dual nationality and expatriate voting were necessary components to a comprehensive
democratization of Mexican politics. ćey argued that allowing migrants to retain Mexican
citizenship and participate in the electoral process would strengthen ties with the dias-
pora and might also provide the Mexican government with a useful ¨lobbying group in the
United States around issues of concern to Mexico."
Opposition to dual nationality and expatriate voting, however, was not conĕned to
Mexico. American right-wing politicians and intellectuals also expressed concern that
Mexican legislation allowing for dual nationality would result in divided loyalties among the
Mexican-American population in the United States.
Dual nationality, they argued, would
hinder the assimilation of migrants into American society. ćese nationalist fears, however,
are incongruent with the ĕndings of a 2001 study that exposes a small correlation between
dual nationality and higher naturalization rates for immigrants in the US
Dual national-
ity, by helping immigrants ¨reconcile membership in both their countries of residence and
13 Ibid, 298.
16 Fitzgerald, 7.
17 Clausen and Velasquez, 297.
18 Jones-Correa, 1010.
19 Ibid, 1010.
20 Ibid, 1014.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
of origin," may actually facilitate incorporation into the host society.
In the end, Mexico's
liberal faction won the dual nationality debate, and the Mexican Congress approved a 'non-
voting' dual nationality provision in December of 1996, which came into eČect two years
će reforms not only represented a victory for pro-migrant activists on both sides of
the border, but also highlighted Mexico's newfound ¨willingness to break with deep-rooted
cultural and historical traditions" regarding emigration.
će Mexican government continued its eČorts to revamp an outdated migration ¨policy
of having no policy," and reached out to its migrant population through a series of revised
and brand-new programs.
će Paisano Program, created in 1989 to address the ¨extor-
tion, abuse of authority, and burdensome administrative procedures" that migrants return-
ing to Mexico for the holidays were oęen exposed to, was expanded to continue ensur-
ing a smoother 'welcome home' for these compatriots.
In 2000, the decade-old Program
for Mexican Communities Abroad was expanded and renamed the Institute for Mexicans
Abroad (IME), with the mission to protect Mexican nationals who live abroad and facilitate
cooperation between the numerous Mexican migrant organizations in the United States.

Each year, the Mexican government--through the IME and its network of nearly ĕęy con-
sulates in the US--provides bilingual training support to American teachers, oČers online
education programs for Mexican adults, sends hundreds of thousands of books in Spanish
to American public libraries, and organizes soccer competitions and meetings between
migrant leaders and local Mexican politicians.
Following the 'dual nationality' reforms,
Mexican consulates also began actively encouraging migrants to naturalize as US citizens,
in order to better assimilate into American society.
će struggle for migrant voting rights reached its ĕnal stage with the PAN presiden-
tial victory of 2000. Vicente Fox vowed to extend the franchise to Mexicans living abroad
in time for the next election cycle, in 2006. By 2003, the three main political parties agreed
that Mexican migrants should be granted the right to vote--yet disagreed on how the ex-
patriate voting process should work.
For months, politicians bickered over whether mi-
grants should be allowed to register to vote at consulates or be required to vote by mail,
21 Ibid, 1014.
22 Ibid, 1003.
23 Gonzalez Gutiérrez, 367.
24 Clausen and Velasquez, 298.
23 Gonzalez Gutiérrez, 363.
26 ¨¿Qué es el IME: / Antecedentes," Instituto de los Mexicanos en el Exterior (IME). Accessed December 8, 2011. http://ime. ¨¿Qué es el IME: / Antecedentes," Instituto de los Mexicanos en el Exterior (IME). Accessed December 8, 2011. http://ime. Accessed December 8, 2011. http://ime.
27 Gonzalez Gutiérrez, 346. alez Gutiérrez, 346. Gutiérrez, 346.
28 Jones-Correa, 1010.
29 Marcelli and Cornelius, 431.
Pedro Ramirez
and whether the vote should be restricted to those already in possession of valid voter IDs.
Eventually, they managed to compromise and agree on a framework, and in February 2003,
the Mexican Congress made expatriate voting a reality through an amendment of electoral
Migrants were given the opportunity to exercise this new right for the ĕrst time during
the presidential elections of 2006.
Expatriate Voting in the 2006 and 2012 Presidential Elections
Despite the hype surrounding Mexico's pilot expatriate voting program, migrant-voter
turnout in 2006 was extremely disappointing. In 2001 it was estimated that close to nine mil-
lion Mexican adults--14° of the eligible Mexican voting population--resided in the United
Mexican politicians across the board believed that this population could signiĕcant-
ly alter the election outcome in 2006. će IFE estimated that about three million Mexican
migrants--most of them located in the US--would register to vote.
Independent polls
that showed a majority of Mexican migrants were interested in participating in the Mexican
political process supported expectations of a high migrant-voter turnout during election
Scholars in the United States argued that such high expectations were unrealistic,
and estimated that only between 1.3 and 4.2° of Mexican migrants of voting age--123,000
to 360,000 of them--would complete the registration process and cast a vote.
Yet, in July
2006, once all ballots had been submitted, the actual numbers proved shocking next to even
the most conservative estimates. 40,876 Mexican expatriates registered to vote. Of these,
only 32,632 did so. 28,333 ballots came from the United States.
će shockingly low turnout of 2006 did not result from a lack of interest among Mexican
migrants, but rather, reĘected a series of structural limitations contained in the expatriate
voting reforms of 2003. ćese ¨political candados," or 'locks,' restricted the electoral pro-
cess to only those migrants in possession of valid voter IDs.
će IDs, commonly referred
to as IFE cards, can only be obtained in Mexico. Migrants without an IFE card were thus
expected to travel to Mexico to complete the necessary paperwork and either wait there or
return weeks later to receive the card. ćis proved particularly diďcult for the millions of
undocumented Mexican migrants who, by going back to Mexico to complete the electoral
registration process, would once again have to cross the US border illegally. Even those mi-
grants with valid IFE cards in 2006 were baĒed by mail-in-ballot policies ¨so cumbersome
30 Clausen and Velasquez, 300.
31 Marcelli and Cornelius, 431.
32 Clausen and Velasquez, 300.
33 Smith and Bakker, 136.
34 Marcelli and Cornelius, 431.
33 Clausen and Velasquez, 300.
36 Smith and Bakker, 138.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
they almost seem designed to discourage the practice."
će registration period for absentee
ballots lasted only four weeks, and expatriate voters were required to send in their applica-
tions by certiĕed mail--a relatively expensive process for many migrants earning lower-
than-minimum wages.
Furthermore, current Mexican electoral law forbids presidential
candidates to campaign abroad or accept extra-territorial monetary contributions.
As a
result, many potential voters lacked essential information about the diČerent candidates and
their policies, and only 33° of migrants polled a few months before the election were aware
that they could cast their votes from abroad.
Observers have pointed to alternative theories for why these candados were designed
in the ĕrst place. Some argue that the Mexican government purposefully limited expatri-
ate voting procedures to prevent a high migrant voter turnout from having a signiĕcant
impact on presidential election results. Jorge Carpizo and Diego Valdés, two inĘuential
constitutional scholars and political darlings of the PRI regime, for instance, have expressed
concern that elections ¨could be decided by voters who, because they had long been absent
from Mexico, were disconnected and ill-informed about its present needs and did not plan
to return, and therefore would neither beneĕt from nor suČer the consequences of their
Widespread migrant voting, they fear, could become ¨politicized with powerful
US interests" pushed by the American media, severely undermining Mexican sovereignty.

Smith and Bakker suggest that these nationalist arguments ignore the fact that most of the
Spanish-speaking media outlets in the United States - including Univision, America's ĕęh
largest television network - actually have ties to Mexican media giants Televisa and TV
Furthermore, they point out that Mexico's 'sovereignty' is already limited by the
will of its powerful northern neighbor.
A second theory explaining the candados--and the oďcial reason espoused by the
Mexican government--is that the limitations are in place to protect migrants and prevent
conĘict with the United States. Making expatriate voting more visible by allowing migrants
to vote at polling stations located inside Mexican consulates, oďcials say, would ¨only hurt
migrants by fueling the ĕres of anti-immigrant forces in the United States and subject un-
documented migrants to potential deportation because Immigration and Naturalization
37 Karen E. Richman, ¨Call Us Vote People: Citizenship, Migration, and Transnational Politics in Haitian and Mexican
Locations," in Citizenship, Political Engagement, and Belonging: Immigrants in Europe and the United States, ed. Deborah Reed-
Danahay et al. (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2008), 178.
38 Clausen and Velasquez, 301.
39 Smith and Bakker, 138.
40 Richman, 179.
41 Smith and Bakker, 134.
42 Ibid, 134.
43 Ibid, 133.
Pedro Ramirez
Service (INS) agents might conduct raids at polling stations."
Furthermore, expanding
the visibility of migrant participation in Mexican politics on American soil could lead to
uncomfortable diplomatic rięs between both countries. Regardless of whether these fears
are well founded or simply a mask for ulterior motives, scholars are right in pointing out
that current expatriate voting legislation eČectively disenfranchises a signiĕcant percentage
of the eligible Mexican migrant voting population and that restrictions on extra-territorial
campaigns and fundraising are ¨unrealistic."
će Mexican presidential election of 2012 is only months away, and unfortunately, it
seems unlikely that expatriate voting will play a much larger role this time around. će
IFE went to great lengths to publicize the expatriate voting process through online social
networking tools--Voto Mexicano' on Facebook and 'VotoExtranjeroMX' on Twitter--as
well as on YouTube and on the website. Pictures on the 'Voto Mexicano'
Facebook page oęen featured celebrity expatriates, such as soccer player Rafael Marquez,
submitting their registration forms and encouraging others to do the same. Mexicans
around the world posted photographs of themselves mailing their registration documents
from exotic foreign locations. Mexico's consular network did its part to promote the expatri-
ate vote by organizing conferences and information sessions on the topic. Furthermore, in
order to incentivize potential migrant voters, all postage costs were paid for by the Mexican
government. Despite these eČorts, however, the total number or registration forms received
by the January 13, 2012 deadline was only 61,687, of which 43,333 came from Mexicans
living in the United States.
Of these, it remains to be seen how many people actually return
their completed ballots in time for their votes to be counted in July. Evidently, many of the
same political candados in place in 2006 continue to limit the opportunities for migrant
electoral participation today.
Alternative Paths for Migrant Political Participation
Interestingly, voting for the next president is not the only option available to expatri-
ates who wish to participate in Mexican politics. Migrants have already begun to run for
public oďce, as well. In 2001, Andres Bermudez, the 'Tomato King,' attracted international
media attention when he was elected municipal president of Jerez, in Zacatecas. His story
is indicative of new opportunities for transnational political participation. Bermudez, who
crossed into the United States from Mexico hidden in the trunk of a car in the mid-1970s,
became a millionaire aęer he invented a tomato-planting machine and ran a very successful
44 Ibid, 139.
43 Marcelli and Cornelius, 438.
46 ¨Solicitudes Recibidas," Voto de los Mexicanos Residentes en el Extranjero. Accessed March 24, 2012, http://www.votoex-
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
agricultural enterprise in California for several years.
Unlike 'return migrants' who per-
manently relocate in Mexico and then seek political opportunities, Bermudez ran for oďce
from his home in Winters, California.
His credentials as a successful migrant easily gained
him the support of the people in a state in which most families have relatives living north of
the border. Bermudez ran under the PRD and won the election with 47° of the vote.
surprisingly, PRI legislators ĕled a lawsuit contesting his victory and succeeded in stripping
him of his post ¨for failing to fulĕll 'local' residency requirements."
Zacatecan law required
any elected oďcial to maintain uninterrupted residency in the municipality concerned for
an entire year prior to being elected.
ćis proved to be only a minor setback for a deter-
mined Bermudez, who returned to California and staged a ¨dramatic transnational political
comeback" three years later.
Aęer blaming president Fox for not intervening in the electoral dispute and for denying
migrants ¨full political rights," Bermudez toned down his hostile rhetoric and secured the
support of Mexican migrant organizations on both sides of the border.
He allied himself
with the leaders of Zacatecan hometown associations under the umbrella of the FCZSC and
sought the support of the Zacatecan Civic Front (FCZ)--a pro-migrant and anti-PRI group
based in Zacatecas.
With the help of his powerful friends, Bermudez managed to pressure
Zacatecan legislators into amending the state constitution. In 2003, the Ley Migrante intro-
duced the recognition of ¨binational and simultaneous residency" as a legitimate eligibility
criterion to run for local oďce and reserved two seats in the state's chamber of deputies
for migrant candidates.
Rięs within the PRD forced Bermudez to leave the party, but he
promptly managed to secure a nomination under the more conservative PAN.
In 2004,
Bermudez was once again elected by the people of Jerez to serve as their municipal presi-
dent--only this time, he was allowed to accept his post.
In 2006, he leę Jerez to catapult
himself unto the national political arena and won a seat in the federal congress in Mexico
47 Sam Quinones, ¨Andres Bermudez Dies at 38: 'Tomato King' and Mexican Oďceholder," Los Angeles Times, February 8,
2009. Accessed December 6, 2011.
48 Smith and Bakker, 111.
49 Ibid, 112.
30 Ibid, 109.
31 Ibid, 112.
32 Ibid, 110.
33 Ibid, 113.
34 Ibid, 122.
33 Ibid, 147.
36 Ibid, 113.
37 Ibid, 110.
38 Ibid, 129.
Pedro Ramirez
Bermudez's political successes were in large part facilitated by his clever campaign tac-
tics, which took advantage of his 'migrant' status to position him as the ideal 'anti-politician.'
For instance, his experience as a migrant in the United States provided him with practical
entrepreneurial and business skills needed to address economic problems in Zacatecas.

Additionally, his time abroad allowed him to observe ¨an alternative political culture," diČer-
ent from the corrupt system keeping ¨Mexico backward, both politically and economically."

Bermudez understood that the narrative of a campesino-turned-millionaire migrant stand-
ing up to a corrupt political establishment would appeal to the Zacatecan people and insisted
on highlighting his migration experience to distance himself from the political class at every
possible opportunity:
ćey are afraid of the migrant because we see politics diČerently. We are a true politics.
ćey are [not] going to be able to buy us oČ for a hundred pesos or with gięs. ćat is the
diČerence! Us migrants are not politicians. Us migrants aren't living from politics, nor do
we eat from politics. So, we go to another country and we learn to do things, because if we
don't, we don't eat, we don't live.
Bermudez envisioned a future in which migrants not only are allowed gradual partici-
pation in Mexican politics, but also have the power to transform the political system as a
whole, ridding it of its corrupt past.
će Tomato King's image as a successful transnational citizen may have won him popu-
lar support for his multiple political endeavors, yet it also resulted in a nationalist backlash
by Mexico's elite political class. Bermudez's 'migrant' status was simultaneously used to por-
tray him as ¨a legitimate member of the global Mexican nation" and as ¨an outsider who
had leę the nation and been acculturated into the values and interests of another nation."

PRI politicians indeed appealed to nationalist sentiment to discredit Bermudez's ĕrst mu-
nicipal victory, voicing fears that politicians with migrant ¨hybrid identities" would shove
American values down unwilling Mexican throats.
Such fears were certainly fueled by the
fact that the only debate among the candidates running for mayor of Jerez in 2001 was held
in Montebello, California. Bermudez's statements along the campaign trail that he sought
¨to transform Jerez into a little United States" surely did not help either.
Yet, much to the
PRI's chagrin, Bermudez's skillful use of the 'heroic migrant' narrative ensured him wide-
spread support among the people of Zacatecas and among the PAN and PRD. Furthermore,
39 Ibid, 114.
60 Ibid, 114.
61 Ibid, 121.
62 Ibid, 112.
63 Ibid, 137.
64 Ibid, 112.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
his conceptualization of 'the migrant' as a much-needed political savior also paved the way
for future migrant political participation.
So far, this discussion has ignored the fact that despite the progress made in terms of po-
litical opportunities available to Mexican migrants, some migrant subgroups remain highly
marginalized. Class and gender-based considerations continue to exclude poor and female
migrants from the political process--a problem that must be addressed in order to achieve
a full democratic transformation of Mexican politics. Hometown associations in the United
States, which control a large part of the remittance Ęows sent to Mexico, are led mostly by
¨well-to-do, oęen business-owning men."
Women are underrepresented in the ranks of
economically successful migrants and are thus at a disadvantage to make an incursion into
Mexican politics. While Andres Bermudez has inspired other male migrants to run for oďce
in Mexico, we have yet to witness 'Tomato Queens' following in his footsteps.
migrants--say, 'professionals and entrepreneurs' with legal status in the United States--are
also in a better position to enjoy the beneĕts of dual nationality and a transnational iden-
tity than are undocumented migrants working menial jobs.
While these class and gender
divisions are obstacles to political participation even to non-migrant Mexicans, expanding
eČorts to reach marginalized migrants to inform them about expatriate voting would be a
good place to start addressing their unequal access to political opportunities.
A variety of factors help explain the Mexican government's dramatic change in its policy
towards dual nationality and expatriate voting. First, the democratization of national poli-
tics--evidenced by a gradual loss of credibility in the PRI regime and the rise of the oppo-
sition--played an important role in allowing for legislative debates around these issues to
surface. Second, the will and determination of migrant activists on both sides of the border
created the necessary pressure to hold Mexican politicians accountable for respecting mi-
grants' political rights. ćird, migrants' increasing economic importance to the Mexican
economy propelled their transition from being viewed as traitors to being recognized as
heroes, and the Mexican public is now arguably more sympathetic to their struggles than
ever before. Current expatriate voting legislation disenfranchises migrants who do not pos-
sess a valid voter ID and cannot travel to Mexico to get one, and further, restricts the infor-
mation available to migrants due to a ban on extra-territorial campaigning. While remov-
ing these bans would likely make expatriate voting much more accessible, doing so will be
politically diďcult. Migrants like Andres Bermudez have demonstrated that the boundar-
ies for migrant political participation can still be stretched further. Zacatecas' 'binational
63 Ibid, 132.
66 Ibid, 133.
67 Fitzgerald, 7.
Pedro Ramirez
residency' provision is likely to inspire similar reforms by other states, and expatriate voting
is slowly beginning to trickle down to state and local-level elections. Migrants have managed
to ĕnd a window into Mexican politics, yet there are still many doors waiting to be unlocked.
Clausen, Helene B., and Mario A. Velasquez. ¨Migrants, Votes, and the 2006 Mexican Pres-
idential Election." In e Politics, Economics, and Culture of Mexican-US Migration:
Both Sides of the Border, edited by Edward Ashbee, Helene B. Clausen, and Carl Peder-
sen, 293-304. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007.
Fitzgerald, David. ¨Citizenship à La Carte." Working paper presented at George Mason Uni-
versity's Center for Global Studies, March 2008. Accessed December 8, 2011. http://cgs.
Gonzalez Gutiérrez, Carlos. ¨Fostering Identities: Mexico's Relations with Its Diasporas."
e Journal of American History 86.2 (1999): 343-67.
Instituto de los Mexicanos en el Exterior. ¨¿Qué es el IME: / Antecedentes." Accessed De-
cember 8, 2011.
Jones-Correa, Michael. ¨Under Two Flags: Dual Nationality in Latin America and Its Con-
sequences for Naturalization in the United States." International Migration Review 33.4
(2001): 997-1029.
Marcelli, Enrico A., and Wayne A. Cornelius. ¨Immigrant Voting in Home-Country Elec-
tions: Potential Consequences of Extending the Franchise to Expatriate Mexicans Re-
siding in the United States." Mexican Studies / Estudios Mexicanos 21.2 (2003): 429-60.
Quinones, Sam. ¨Andres Bermudez Dies at 38; 'Tomato King' and Mexican Oďceholder."
Los Angeles Times. February 8, 2009. Accessed December 6, 2011.
Richman, Karen E. ¨Call Us Vote People: Citizenship, Migration, and Transnational
Politics in Haitian and Mexican Locations." In Citizenship, Political Engagement, and Be-
longing: Immigrants in Europe and the United States, edited by Deborah Reed-Danahay
and Caroline Brettell, 162-180. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2008.
Smith, Michael P., and Matt Bakker. Citizenship across Borders: the Political Transnational-
ism of El Migrante. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2008.
Voto de los Mexicanos Residentes en el Extranjero. ¨Solicitudes Recibidas." Accessed March
24, 2012.
Opportunities for Migrant Participation in Mexican Politics
Nancy Talamantes
NĮĻİņ TĮĹĮĺĮĻŁIJŀ is a junior at the University of Southern California ma-
joring in International Relations-Global Business.
ćis study aims to analyze the way soccer is used as a tool to promote peace and to
establish diplomatic relations between countries. As a vital component of many cultures,
soccer is used to attain global recognition. Because soccer can be considered an imminent
driving force that unites people on a national level, the study will explain how this national
identiĕcation with soccer fosters nationalism. ćrough an analysis of the collective theory of
social identity, this study will then explore how an allegiance to a particular national soccer
team groups people under a collective, national identity. Next, the analysis will focus on the
global soccer governing body, the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA),
to discover how the association utilizes soccer as a means to advertise peace and appease
relations between member countries. ćen the study will then discuss the World Cup, FIFA's
forum for facilitating diplomatic relations. Additionally, focusing on FIFA's policy of Fair
Play will demonstrate FIFA's moral code of conduct enforced to ensure peaceful and just
soccer matches. Lastly, a discussion of the counterargument to soccer's' ability to promote
peace and establish diplomatic relations will show how soccer nationalism can be counter-
productive and cause violence.
In understanding the global importance of soccer, it is imperative to mention that ac-
cording to Pascal Boniface, Director of the Institute de Relations Internationales et Stratégiques
(IRIS), soccer has become a component and a deĕning factor of statehood. Boniface posits
that independent states are now deĕned by four elements that include territory, population,
e universal popularity of soccer stems from its inclusivity of dierent ethnicities,
races, and cultures. People without common languages, traditions or backgrounds
can engage in a game of soccer simply because it is easy to understand and play.
e unifying aspect of soccer enables it to unite people under a common goal and
objective. In essence, the inclusive quality of soccer allows for it to become a common
language people universally speak and thus a source of communication among them.
Soccer therefore has the power to communicate social, cultural, and political matters.
erefore, as an integral part of the cultures of many nations, soccer can potentially
be considered an imminent source to promote peace and conduct cultural diplomacy
between nations.
The World Cup and World Order
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
Nancy Talamantes
Nancy Talamantes
government, and a national soccer team.
It therefore has become a priority for newly in-
dependent states to establish national soccer teams in an eČort to attain recognition by the
international soccer governing body, FIFA. Boniface alleges that newly independent states
request FIFA membership as if it were as ¨natural and necessary" as United Nations' (UN)

Both the UN and FIFA have similar admissions criteria. Both entities require the states
in question to submit a written formal agreement abiding to comply with the obligations,
regulations, and decisions of the respective governing body of the organization they wish to
In eČect, through both processes, countries seeking approval and admission have to
give up sovereignty in exchange for recognition. It follows that comparing FIFA member-
ship with UN membership reĘects how FIFA membership serves, to a certain extent, vali-
date statehood for FIFA members and allows them to achieve global representation through
soccer. Currently, FIFA has 208 members in comparison to UN's 193 member-states, por-
traying FIFA's inclusivity of political entities and the magnitude of global support for soccer.
Furthermore, soccer helps conĕrm identity on a national level. Boniface describes
national soccer teams' contribution to constructing national identity by stating, ¨national
teams have not been a mere result of the creation of new states, they have oęen helped forge
the nation."
In explaining soccer's role in creating national identity, however, the concept of
identity must ĕrst be deĕned. According to USC International Relations professor Andrew
Manning, the essence of identity is the conceptualization of the self largely in relation to oth-
In other words, modeling oneself according to a larger social entity essentially creates
identity. In this process, citizens conceptualize themselves in relation to their national soccer
teams, and their allegiance to their national soccer team becomes a vital component of their
identity. One can therefore claim that soccer forges national identity, and consequently na-
tionalism, as citizens pledge loyalty to their national soccer teams and thus become identi-
ĕed with their nation via soccer.
It should be acknowledged that national identity refers to collective identity represent-
ing the views of the state.
će countries' national soccer association, the soccer players on
the national team, and the soccer aĕcionados become part of a collective identity through
their connection and support for their respective national soccer teams. Collective identities
1 Pascal Boniface, ¨Football as a Factor (and a ReĘection) of International Politics," International Spectator 33.4 (1998): 3.
2 Ibid., 3.
3 ¨UN General Assembly - Rules of Procedure - Admission of New Members to the United Nations," General Assembly of the
United Nations.
4 Richard Witzig, e Global Art of Soccer (New Orleans: CusiBoy, 2006), 38.
3 Boniface, 3.
6 Andrew Manning, ¨Evil on the Scale of Bosnia, Rwanda or Auschwitz Could not Happen Here" (lecture, University of South-
ern California, Los Angeles, CA, October 27, 2011).
7 Manning, A.
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
are deĕned by political psychology expert Marilyn Brewer as ¨shared representations of the
group based on common interests and experiences, but it also refers to an active process of
shaping and forging an image of what the group stands for and how it wishes to be viewed
by others."
će common interest shared by the group is their passion and appreciation for
soccer. će group creates an image of what it stands for by developing and wearing repre-
sentative gear, singing chants at matches that convey the soccer team's core values, waving
the national Ęag, and playing the national anthem. Moreover, the group inĘuences the per-
spective of others through the fans and players' behavior at matches--the fans' methods to
convey their fanaticism, and the national soccer team association's ability to administer the
aČairs of the national team. ćerefore, as people identify with their national soccer teams
they develop a sense of national pride. All expressions of support for their teams are essen-
tially expressions of national pride. ćerefore, one can say that a growing sense of national-
ism results as fans come to share the excitement of the nation's wins and suČer accordingly
with the nation's losses.
Moreover, international soccer can also serve as a medium to establish diplomatic re-
lations and unite people on an international level. Diplomacy is deĕned as the interaction
between two or more nation states to conduct negotiations and other relations between
In using sport, and speciĕcally soccer, as a diplomatic tool, cultural diplomacy is
essentially being conducted. Cultural diplomacy is deĕned as ¨the exchange of ideas, infor-
mation, art, and other aspects of culture among nations and their peoples in order to foster
mutual understanding."
Soccer players who travel to foreign countries to engage in soccer
matches serve as vehicles to enable cultural diplomacy between nations. International
soccer matches are a reĘection of cultural exchanges between the two participating coun-
tries. When traveling abroad, soccer players become exposed to foreign cultures, and in
turn, expose their own culture to the host nation. Upon returning home, they bring their
experiences with them and communicate their ĕndings to their respective countries. će
cultural exchange that occurs through international soccer matches can have the profound
eČect of proving or disproving preconceived notions that national soccer players have of
their opponents. International soccer matches are thus crucial, as they provide a way for
national athletic representatives to become more cultured and establish relations on an in-
ternational sense that might ultimately lead to diplomatic relations between the nations they
8 Marilynn Brewer, ¨će Many Faces of Social Identity: Implications for Political Psychology," Political Psychology 22.1 (2001):
9 Spencer Cocanour, United States. Sports: A Tool for International Relations. (Maxwell Air Force Base: United States Air Force,
2007), 8.
10 Ibid., 8.
Nancy Talamantes
are representing.
For this reason, international soccer has ¨provided a useful channel for
diplomatic initiatives to improve relations between hostile governments."
Soccer's global governing body, FIFA, facilitates the establishment of diplomatic rela-
tions between countries by providing a forum for political negotiations to be conducted
through soccer. će World Cup event, which FIFA hosts every four years, allows for thirty-
two political entities to congregate under the pretext of a common passion for soccer.
placement of the participating countries in groups, to engage in the subsequent rounds of
the World Cup tournament, is not based on their geography, political status, or economic
standing but rather on a general lottery aimed to separate the top contestants and teams in
the same continental federations.
će planning and coordination of matches and, most
importantly, the succeeding results of the matches thus have the ability to unite rival and
conĘicting countries during a ninety minute time span. ćese international matches require
the presence of the emblematic representatives of each country, which makes the encounter
between rival presidents or head of states relatively easy and possible. ćus the World Cup
tournaments ¨help [political] decisions made in other spheres to be fulĕlled by providing a
favorable environment."
For instance, in order to explain the signiĕcance the World Cup tournaments have in
shaping and encouraging diplomatic relations between participating countries a compari-
son should be made between a World Cup tournament and a world war.
A World Cup tour-
nament is analogous to a world war because a mega sporting event enables an assemblage
of nation states to rally together in times of peace through the use of soccer.
Boniface sug-
gests that a sporting event allows representatives of nations to confront one another with-
out killing each other; in eČect re-igniting national passion for their respective countries.

ćus these World Cup soccer tournaments provide for a ¨residual confrontation zone that
allows for a controlled expression of animosity without aČecting the most important areas
of cooperation between countries."
Unlike a world war, where animosity serves to destroy
diplomatic relations between countries, a World Cup has the ability to have the reverse eČect
11 Ibid., 6.
12 Peter Hough, ¨Make Goals Not War: će Contribution of International Football to World Peace," International Journal of
the History of Sport 23.10 (2008): 1293.
13 ¨ - Fair Play Code," - Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA). http://www.ĕ
14 Ibid.
13 Boniface, 11.
16 Ibid., 6.
17 Ibid., 7.
18 Ibid., 6-7.
19 Hough, 1296.
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
of enhancing diplomatic relations between countries through their collaborative eČorts in
a soccer match.
It is important to clarify that during a World Cup, far from being a physical war, what
is essentially being conducted is a war of ideologies. Every nation's soccer team is compa-
rable to a nation's army. će soccer ĕeld where they hold their confrontations becomes their
battleĕeld. As a war of ideologies, the referees serve as the mediators preventing injustices
or unfair advantages and thus allow for a just war to occur. In terms of weapons to achieve
and advance their means, a soccer ball is the crucial and only weapon the soccer team has
to inĘict damage on their opponent. Consequently, during soccer matches, goals and the
corresponding points ¨are golden for emerging countries. ćey symbolize the nation; they
buy recognition. ćey are a source of great pride."
At the end of the match and thus, the
culmination of the war, the prevailing soccer team becomes the winning ideology.
As a result, the critical point this analogy makes is that ¨to win the World Cup is the
postmodern equivalent of winning war, but with no target bombing, no deceit, and no col-
lateral damage."
Hence, one can claim that winning a World Cup is equivalent to winning
a world war because both victories grant nations global recognition and accreditation of
their statehood. Nevertheless, winning a World Cup is a more eČective way to attain this
recognition as it does not require bloodshed and revolt on nations' behalves. Also, unlike
world wars, large, privileged countries do not have the comparative advantage in winning a
tournament over smaller, less powerful countries because what is essentially evaluated is the
performance of the national soccer teams and not the global inĘuence of the participating
countries. Because of this, publicity and recognition from FIFA is unbiased and, in essence,
beneĕts countries on an impartial level by focusing on their merits instead of their global
status. će idea that no country is unfairly advantaged or disadvantaged, based on their
size, wealth, or political supremacy, ensures that every country has an equal opportunity for
competition and representation within FIFA.
Engaging in World Cup soccer matches, for all intents and purposes, is a peaceful ap-
proach for nations to vent antagonism and national frustrations on the ĕeld to the eČect of
signiĕcantly reducing pressure of ¨societal expectations of national glory."
winning these international matches satisĕes the urge of the national populace, of each
participating country, for victory and supremacy over other nations in a nonviolent way.
A sense of national pride accompanies every nation's wins and successes during a World
Cup enhancing the nations' solidarity. će ultimate winner of the tournament, just like the
20 Boniface, 6.
21 Hough, 1293.
22 Ibid., 1296.
Nancy Talamantes
winner of a war, is recognized on the world stage as a renowned world power because of
their superior abilities.
Furthermore, FIFA's use of soccer to establish diplomatic relations is eČective only be-
cause it is organized and administered as a political association. Although recognized as a
nongovernmental association, the association's decisions, on a variety of matters, are reĘec-
tive of political and social issues present in their member countries.
ćus, FIFA's decisions
are aimed to have political and social implications to the eČect of reinforcing, and on most
occasions, reconstructing relations between their member countries. For example, FIFA's
political ordeals, which portray their political involvement in a global sense, include sepa-
rating conĘicting member states into confederations using strategies similar to the UN.

FIFA places countries tactically in confederations, or umbrella organizations of the national
football associations present on each continent, where they will be able to peacefully coex-
ist with other members.
For example, ¨FIFA places Israel in the European group (UEFA)
while Palestine is placed in Asia (AFC)--even though some land governed by the Palestine
Authority (the Gaza strip) is west of any Israeli territory."

Next, FIFA also conducts ¨soccer ĕxtures" in an attempt to inĘuence and manipulate
international soccer politics and, simultaneously, international relations between countries.
¨Soccer ĕxtures," are essentially strategic matches intended to appease relations between
conĘicting countries and therefore improve inter-societal and inter governmental relations
between them.
For instance, in 1997 FIFA arranged an ethnic Greek versus ethnic Turk
match with the intention of initiating communication between the two nations. Although
FIFA failed to unite these countries in a soccer match, as the soccer match never occurred,
it shows how FIFA can be viewed an active advocate of amending altered relations between
In addition, another political move for FIFA is choosing the host for the World Cup.
It is crucial to note that FIFA's decision is politically biased as FIFA oęen makes a political
statement through the country they choose as the host.
će nation that is selected to host
the World Cup is used as a model to exemplify how soccer can amend the social and politi-
cal unrest present in the country. će decision to have Japan and South Korea host the 2002
World Cup is a prime example. ćis strategic move on FIFA's behalf attempted to bring two
leading Asian countries, and historical antagonists, together. FIFA was successful in the
23 Boniface, 3.
24 Witzig, 67.
23 ¨ - Fair Play Code."
26 Witzig, 67.
27 Hough, 1293.
28 Hough, 1294.
29 Hough, 1294.
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
sense that oďcials from both countries compelled to communicate in order to discuss mat-
ters pertaining to the World Cup.
ćus, FIFA provided the forum, and South Korea and
Japan's common appreciation for soccer enabled their diplomatic engagement.
Apart from their eČorts to appease relations between their members, FIFA is also known
to use soccer to campaign for peace on an international scale. FIFA's mission statement
boldly proclaims its ideal to ¨develop the game, touch the world, build a better future."

Although not explicitly stated, FIFA aims to build a better future through the transcendence
of peace among generations via the positive values soccer promotes. ćeir mission state-
ment details this central peace keeping notion:
¨Played by millions around the world, football is the heart and soul of FIFA, and as the
guardian of this most cherished game, we have a great responsibility. ćis responsibil-
ity does not end with organizing the FIFA World Cup and the various other world cup
competitions; it extends to safeguarding the Laws of the Game, developing the game
around the world and to bringing hope to those less privileged. ćis is what we believe
is the very essence of fair play and solidarity.
Consequently, as a peacekeeping organization, FIFA has its own moral code of conduct
exempliĕed by the FIFA Fair Play Policy. će FIFA Fair Play policy is a series of rules and
regulations of sportsmanship that players are instructed to follow to guarantee just soccer
matches between countries. In reality, though, it is more than that--it is an indirect state-
ment, on FIFA's behalf of justice and tolerance for the world. ćis policy is intended to
¨reinforce a sense of fraternity and cooperation among members of the worldwide football
će major provisions of the Fair Play policy include the promotion of fair matches
where the principle of honesty to achieve victory is highly valued. Furthermore every player
is not only encouraged to play to win by abiding closely to the rules of the game, but also to
lose with dignity. In addition, in order to maintain a peaceful playing environment, respect
for opponents, teammates, referees, oďcials, and spectators is emphasized. Next, in accor-
dance with good sportsmanship, every soccer player is taught to reject the negative actions
that plague soccer including corruption, drugs, racism, violence, and gambling. In general,
this philosophy provides players with a foundation to use soccer to positively inĘuence the

30 Ibid., 1294.
31 “ - Fair Play Code.”
32 Ibid.
33 Ibid.
34 Ibid.
Nancy Talamantes
A notable example of how soccer was used to promote peace occurred in 2003 when
Didier Drogba, Chelsea striker, acted as a political advocate for peace and uniĕcation of his
country. Civil war had been present in the Ivory Coast for ĕve years, and Drogba saw an
opportunity to communicate his discomfort about the situation aęer the match that quali-
ĕed the Ivory Coast for the 2006 World Cup. In the dressing room, Drogba united his team-
mates and made a plea, via national television, for the warring sides in his country to stop
the ĕghting. His plea was answered within a week and resulted in a ceaseĕre.
ćis event in
soccer history reĘects the way soccer is used as a tool to communicate political matters to
people and appease conĘicts. Furthermore, it conveys the impact the Fair Play policy has in
inĘuencing soccer players to use soccer to bring change in the world.
On the other hand, it can be alleged that the nationalism soccer produces can be coun-
terproductive and can prompt violence. Soccer's inĘuential power to move masses to action
has been used for harmful nationalistic propaganda. Mussolini's regime is an imminent
example as he is thought to have bribed oďcials at the 1934 Italy World Cup to ensure a
win for the host nation in order to further increase national pride and support for his re-
In addition, soccer is thought to have incited systematic conĘict, and, most recently,
inspired hooliganism.
In current times, hooliganism is the modern expression of extreme
nationalism as a result of a strong allegiance to national soccer teams. Hooligans are deĕned
as fanatics to a cause, in this case their respective national soccer teams, that leads them to
abuse foreign players and plan violence against them.
Hooliganism exempliĕes how sup-
port for soccer is a strong enough force to rally people to commit murder. For instance, the
most renowned dictators of the 20
century took an interest in soccer and used it to their
advantage as a societal controlling tool.
Moreover, systematic conĘict is also thought to result when soccer causes extreme na-
tionalism amongst its fans. It is important to note that extreme nationalism contradicts the
provisions of nationalism, as it is divisive and destructive force that produces factions.
soccer war of 1969 between El Salvador and Honduras exempliĕes how extreme nationalism,
derived from the nations' support for their respective national team, was the driving force
that motivated engagement in violent action. će El Salvador 3-0 victory against Honduras
in the World Cup qualifying match, held in El Salvador, enabled them to avenge themselves
for their loss days earlier. će poor sportsmanship of the El Salvador's fans caused them to
burn the Honduran Ęag and rally against Honduras' fans. Two fans were killed which led
33 Hayes, 2007.
36 Houghs, 1289.
37 Ibid., 1289.
38 Witzig, 43.
39 Ibid., 72.
40 Ibid., 71.
An Analysis of Soccer as a Tool for Diplomacy
to the closing of the border between the nations, but unfortunately violence continued.
In Mexico on June 29,

1969, El Salvador won the deciding match against Honduras, and
Honduras reacted by using its militia to take revenge oČ the ĕeld by actually invading El
Salvador. će El Salvadorian army reacted by attacking Honduras and igniting in a ĕve-day
war that claimed two hundred lives.
Granted, it is contended that soccer is a societal tool that has the eČect of being ma-
nipulated to create violence. It is of utmost importance to note and question whether sup-
port and appreciation for soccer is really the detrimental force driving people to engage in
violent and racist aČairs. It can be argued that the violence observed through soccer is actu-
ally a reĘection of social and political unrest inĘuencing people to rebel. Soccer becomes
associated with this type of violence as it is used to unite people under a cause. će primary
factors inĘuencing people to engage in violent acts where soccer is involved may originate
from social instability, ignorance, poverty, and historical animosity.
Soccer is an essential component of both society and national identity, and it serves to
unite people of diČerent origins, ethnicities and backgrounds under a common platform of
integration and negotiation. National soccer teams are emblematic representatives of the
nation, and the nationalism soccer generates can have both positive and negative eČects
in a global context. In analyzing the extent to which soccer meets its objective to promote
peace it should be emphasized that ¨soccer is an important part of life, but its existence is
not the salvation of humanity."
Furthermore, although FIFA is a rather inĘuential inter-
national organization that uses soccer eČectively as a means to conduct cultural diplomacy,
its limitations should be discussed. Without the support of the UN and other peace mediat-
ing international organizations, FIFA's would not have the same ability to promote global
peace. će UN signiĕcantly complements FIFA's initiatives to mediate conĘict and promote
peace by providing a forum for its member states to conduct other types of multilateral di-
plomacy. ćese include preventive, developmental, and public diplomacy, each of which is
an essential medium of negotiation. ćey are crucial as they do not only contribute greatly
to the peacemaking eČort, by allowing countries to coordinate policy on other aspects of
statehood, but also as they help maintain and advance peace.
Boniface, Pascal. ¨Football as a Factor (and a ReĘection) of International Politics." Interna-
tional Spectator 33.4 (1998): 1-12.
41 Boniface, 7.
42 Witzig, 403.
Nancy Talamantes
Brewer, Marilynn. ¨će Many Faces of Social Identity: Implications for Political Psychol-
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Cocanour, Spencer. United States. Sports: A Tool for International Relations. Maxwell Air
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¨ - Fair Play Code." - Fédération Internationale de Football Association
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Hayes, Alex. 'Didier Drogba brings peace to the Ivory Coast.' e Telegraph. London, 8
August 2007.
Hough, Peter. ¨Make Goals Not War: će Contribution of International Football to World
Peace. ¨International Journal of the History of Sport 23.10 (2008): 1287 - 1303.
Manning, Andrew. ¨Evil on the Scale of Bosnia, Rwanda or Auschwitz Could not Happen
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¨UN General Assembly - Rules of Procedure - Admission of New Members to the United
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