The Kosovo Precedent

(Also posted at the United States Studies Centre blog.)

In the diplomatic negotiations that followed the First World War, Woodrow Wilson ushered in a new era in international relations by committing the United States to supporting the right of national self-determination. That principle still plays some role in the formulation of U.S. foreign policy, but its application has been inconsistent. A more forceful defence of self-determination might win America more respect around the world.

In the 1950s, Eritreans were told by John Foster Dulles to put their national aspirations on hold, as Ethiopia was an American ally whose sovereignty over part of the Red Sea coast was crucial to control of the world’s arterial water routes. A similar situation presented itself in the 1970s, when Washington backed Pakistan’s control of its rebellious eastern region (now Bangladesh). And in August 1991, the elder President Bush delivered the ‘Chicken Kiev speech’, in which he warned the peoples of the Soviet Union, some of whom had spent centuries under Russian domination, to think twice before adding new names to the General Assembly roll call. Even Wilson himself was not immune: his closeness to Britain during Ireland’s struggle for independence had devastating consequences for his party at the 1920 elections. On occasions such as these, realpolitik has made the United States the defender of regimes trying to put down revolts within their borders (and an unsuccessful one – Eritrea, Bangladesh, Ukraine, and Ireland all won their independence in the end).

The 2008 decision of the U.S. (and its allies) to recognise the independence of Kosovo, and its support for South Sudan’s separation in 2011, were thus something of a break with the practice of recent decades, whereby the U.S. has leant toward preserving existing national borders (a principle known in international law as uti possidetis juris). The results of these decisions can be seen in the politics of places such as Iraq and Bosnia-Herzegovina, where mélanges of warring of ethnic groups who would undoubtedly be happier living apart are forced into complex power-sharing arrangements. The cases of peaceful secession (such as Slovakia’s ‘velvet divorce’ from the Czechs or Montenegro’s split from Serbia) are overshadowed by the fear of ‘balkanisation’.

The recognition of Kosovo was quickly denounced by Russia, which backs separatist rebels in regions such as Abkhazia and South Ossetia (in Georgia) and Transnistria (in Moldova). In the intervening years, the Kremlin has become more assertive about the issue, and has used its veto on the Security Council to prevent Kosovo’s acceptance into the UN. Its official recognition of the two breakaway Georgian regions explicitly cited the Kosovo precedent, and some have speculated that it will allow for the normalisation of Kosovo’s status only in exchange for the West doing the same for Abkhazia or South Ossetia.

In the early days of the Cold War, American talk of human rights abuses in the Soviet Union was characteristically dismissed with the retort ‘and you are lynching Negroes’. Today, Moscow defends its support for its client states with a similar comeback: ‘and you are recognising Kosovo’ (shamelessly ignoring the hypocrisy of its own stance on Chechnya). Just as the mid-1960s victories of the civil rights movement allowed the U.S. to regain the high moral ground and force the world’s attention onto the human rights records of its enemies, Washington might consider the benefits of granting recognition to more aspirant states: not just in the Caucasus, but places such as Palestine, Somaliland, and Northern Cyprus. The downside of such a shift might be a thaw in relations with countries like Georgia, but the potential upside is worth thinking about: the U.S. would be seen as supporting self-determination everywhere, not just for regions and peoples with whom it is allied; indeed, it would find new allies among the beneficiaries of its neo-Wilsonian stance.