Until last Thursday, world leaders were content to condemn the bloodshed but take no action in the Libyan revolt. They were guided, presumably, by an assessment of their strategic interests and an awareness of the risks associated with becoming embroiled in yet another civil war in a foreign land. While the sudden turn-around was undoubtedly sparked by our liberal sensibilities – which railed at the thought of 'unspeakable horrors' in Benghazi — this humanitarian duty had not permeated deeply enough to jolt our leaders to action when the rebels still had a chance.

This is not surprising. As I have argued elsewhere, armed intervention for humanitarian purposes is rarely as worthwhile or noble as it seems.

In almost every small war of strategic irrelevance, our liberal leaders have either stood on the sidelines (eg. Sudan and Rwanda) or have intervened half-heartedly (eg. Somalia). Even where we do consider our interests to be at stake (eg. Iraq and Afghanistan) the twin dilemmas of political will and public opinion conspire to undermine our military commitment. As such, our efforts are rarely enough to tilt the fortunes of 'our side', but invariably sufficient to prolong the conflict, encourage dangerous false hopes and put 'skin' in a game we've little intention of winning.

While we may espouse and believe our own humanitarian rhetoric, our actions speak volumes about our responsibility to protect.

Photo by Flickr user B.R.Q.

These tensions are playing out in two domains. On land, Sino-Indian rivalries simmer over the contested McMahon Line at Aksai Chin and the disputed border in Arunachal Pradesh, where New Delhi maintains a contingent of around 100,000 troops. At sea, strategic jostling is even more apparent as China and India modernise their navies and compete to extend their influence from the Malacca Strait to the Gulf of Aden.

Yet as my recent paper in the Lowy Institute's 'Strategic Snapshot' series points out, Sino-Indian rivalry in the Indo-Pacific region is far from inevitable. For the next two decades, both countries will be compelled to stay focused on their own relatively separate geostrategic neighbourhoods. Moreover, even as their naval forces come into more frequent contact on the high seas, there is reason to believe that confidence-building measures can help prevent destabilising clashes between Chinese and Indian fleets.

Premier Wen's trip to the subcontinent raises another reason for cautious optimism. If economic links and bilateral trade continue to grow over the coming years, Beijing and New Delhi may find that the rewards of interdependence will attenuate the latent mistrust in other aspects the relationship.

Photo by Flickr user rajkumar1220.

Sure, Australia might get away with contributing the ‘bare minimum’ towards what critics view as our alliance ‘obligations’. Indeed, in light of the political support we’ve offered over the years, Washington is highly unlikely to walk away from ANZUS and its southernmost Asia-Pacific partner.

But actually strengthening the alliance is about investment not obligation. It requires genuine political commitment to ventures of substance that matter to the Americans.

In Afghanistan, this means taking ownership of part of the problem and having a stake in its success or failure. As Whit Mason and others have argued, Australia could do this by leading in Uruzgan — a relatively undemanding task that would require few additional troops and would help Canberra rekindle the respect of our allies.

This commitment would also meet the demands of a growing number of frustrated Australian soldiers who believe our second-fiddle presence in Uruzgan will become a tactical ‘burden’ on American forces once the Dutch withdraw next month. As many have privately expressed, a ‘token’ commitment is no way to contribute to our most important strategic alliance.

By playing the Afghan game with one foot out the door, Australia has avoided committing political capital to the war. While our troops are doggedly professional, committed and willing to risk their lives for the mission, our politicians — more concerned with electoral risks — display cowardice, unwilling to assume political responsibility for even a small part of the war.

My other gripe with John and like-minded strategic critics concerns the view that Australia has nothing to gain from supporting a global rules-based order and its expression in Afghanistan. There are two problems with this reasoning.

First, as the current rules-based system is a manifestation of Westphalian laws and Western-liberal values that are backed, as John notes, by American military might, this global order is well-tailored to Australian interests. True, it’s not perfect, but it’s a pretty good system that, broadly, keeps state sovereignty intact, minimises regional instability, enforces collective security, attempts to regulate arms traffic, defends human rights and seeks to justify the use of force under (albeit fallible) international laws.

These ‘public goods’ serve the interests of middle-powers like Australia. Of course, this does not mean there is a direct link between our commitment in Afghanistan and some future ‘return’ Australia might receive. Rather, Australia stands to gain from the broader stability, security and external support that this rule-governed order provides.

And to the extent that this system reflects the interests of powerful states like the US or EU members, these are our allies  —and we’ve a vested interest in a world they govern, and where our mutual needs remain intact. In short, Australia should follow its liberal-internationalist foreign policy tradition and do, as it generally does, its bit to support an international system that is conducive to our interests.

Second, the notion that the Afghan mission is irrelevant to the maintenance of this rules-based order is wrong. International rules exist to the extent that states choose to follow them, support their institutional foundations and deploy hard and soft power in their defence. Without such vigilance rules are meaningless and prone to being broken. Were ISAF to give up on Afghanistan — that is, on buttressing a fragile state, building South Asian stability and empowering those that resist extremism — doubt would be cast over the entire UN-sanctioned state-building agenda.

As this would demonstrate a weakening international resolve to assist (wherever possible) states in crisis, it risks hampering future peace-enforcement missions and emboldening those who would seek to challenge weak governments with impunity.

While practitioners may quibble over the merits of counterinsurgency in Afghanistan, it is clear that, from a strategic standpoint, there are good reasons to stay.

Photo by Flickr user United States Marine Corps Official Page's photostream, used under a Creative Commons license.

Inside the ship you get a sense of Sydney's logistics. From the bridge the crew steer and navigate, perched high above the bow. Seahawk helicopters are commanded from a tiny cubicle sunk into the rear landing deck. And the hull is stuffed with everything from workshops and supply centres, to armouries, surgeries and the 'bad to the bone' gym. 

It is easy to forget how little of a warship's day-to-day activities are about firing weapons. Sure, Sydney's weapons control room – crammed with radar-screens, launching systems and top-secret intelligence facilities – looks like something out of The Hunt for Red October. But a reality-check lies in the galley. Tasked with feeding 210 sailors three times a day for up to two months, supplying food is among Sydney's most expensive and important pursuits.

Another is self-preservation. During one exercise, RAAF jets flew menacingly low over Melbourne and Sydney to simulate a hostile air raid. Recently refitted to include a Vertical Launch System for Sea Sparrow missiles, Sydney and Melbourne are well-equipped to prevent such an attack. The frigates field a range of other weapons too, including a 76mm gun which, at one point, battered a target from a range of five miles. 

As we motored away from HMAS Sydney, it was difficult to reconcile its peaceful exterior with the relentless activity continuing below deck. 

Moreover, most Australians accept this argument. While the latest Lowy Institute poll puts opposition to the Afghan war at 54%, a clear majority of 86% continue to support the alliance. In fact, had the Australian Government more openly articulated 'alliance management' as a motive for being in Afghanistan, it is possible our contribution would have enjoyed greater public support from the outset. As no prime minister will dare to withdraw our troops until the US begins to leave, this defence of 'Australia's war' may still be worth making.

Second, it is in Australia's interest to support the kind of rules-based international order that finds its expression in the Afghan war. As a so-called 'middle power', Australia depends as much on collective security arrangements as it does on the American alliance. In terms of trade, regional security and global stability, we benefit from an international environment where conflict and violations of international law are met with a multilateral resolve to act. 

Since UN Resolution 1386, our participation in ISAF has served to uphold such a rules-based system. This is not to say that routing the Taliban is in Australia's direct (or indirect) national interests. But as collective security is premised upon the 'one for all, all for one' principle, assisting ISAF's mission is critical to its political underpinnings. And it is likely to pay dividends when we next require international support for a security contingency in our region.

Third, Australia has an interest in a positive resolution to the war. If stability cannot be achieved through national reconciliation and the consolidation of an ISAF-trained Afghan National Army, it is likely the conflict will further destabilise the Af-Pak border and spread across the region. While a failed Afghanistan would be dangerous, instability or state failure in nuclear-armed Pakistan would have dire implications for all of South Asia. And it would no doubt necessitate an even greater response from the international community, including Australia. If the Somalia debacle taught us anything, it’s that withdrawing in advance of a lasting solution will only come back to haunt us.

Of course, the overall validity of the Afghan war will depend on the ability of NATO commanders to turn ISAF's strategic goals into victories on the ground. On the question of whether or not this is achievable, I willingly defer to the experts. Either way, this issue is of secondary importance to Australia. Our contribution is predominantly political. It was, by itself, never designed to win the war. If Australia stays the course in Afghanistan, it should be for the reasons outlined in this post.

Photo courtesy of the Department of Defence.

The US should do more to strive for a truly constructive engagement with its fledgling Central Asian ally. It should begin by recognising Otunbayeva's interim leadership, a move which Russia has already made. This should be followed up by a diplomatic campaign designed to hold the Otunbayeva regime true to its democratic ambitions.

This isn't as wildly idealistic as it sounds. There are two reasons why such a policy is feasible.

First, demanding better domestic governance would not upset broader geopolitical interests. Kyrgyzstan cannot disrupt the flow of oil, resources or finance, and 'getting tough' on its leaders will not provoke a wider regional conflagration. Although Russia has in the past sought to undermine US influence in this strategically important Central Asian state, President Dmitry Medvedev appears — at least for now — to be cooperating with the Americans on Kyrgyzstan. 

And as China is 'deeply concerned' by the civil unrest caused by the fall of the Bakiyev regime, it is unlikely that Kyrgyzstan's big neighbours would be overly concerned by such a policy.

Second, it is hard to believe that the US would be thrown out of Kyrgyzstan, even if it did demand political reform as a condition for continued payment of an increasingly expensive airport rent. Put simply, Kyrgyzstan needs the US$110 million a year. And under Obunbayeva's new leadership, there is so far nothing to suggest that the US Air Force base is unwelcome.

External pressure is needed to triumph over a Kyrgyz political system where corruption, self-enrichment and nepotism have been the status quo. This is not a call for neoconservative state-building or idealistic interventionism. But following over a decade of truly grassroots and democratic revolution, Kyrgyzstan is very much a country where the people want change. It is only the old political elite who do not.

In a recent interview, Obunbayeva said, 'I consider power to be an instrument with which to implement a program for the majority of people — and not for oneself or one's own family and relatives.' With luck, and a little help, Obunbayeva will be able to live up to her own ideals.

Photo, of the National Historical Museum in downtown Bishkek, taken by the author in 2009.

Yet fourteen years later he was still in office, having overruled a constitutional provision limiting his re-election, fraudulently won a third term as President in 2000, and presided over a series of often violent crackdowns on protesters, opposition figures and the media. 

Enter the Tulip Revolution of 2005. As thousands of protesters marched — under fire — on Government House in the capital Bishkek, many observers anticipated that a new wave of freedom and grassroots democracy had come to Kyrgyzstan (see here, here vs. here). In the wake of fresh corruption allegations and another electoral scandal, the 'masses' had revolted. Akayev fled the country. Opposition leader Kurmanbek Bakiyev became President, and for a while all seemed to be well.

But not for long.

By November 2006, President Bakiyev was himself ordering the armed suppression of violent anti-government protests that had erupted, again, in Bishkek. Having failed to address political corruption, lift living standards or introduce the democratic reforms (caps on presidential powers) he had promised in 2005, Bakiyev quickly lost the grassroots support that had propelled him to power.

And it got worse. Over the next four years President Bakiyev used violence to silence the media, consolidated his authoritarian rule, and — according to international observers — effectively stole elections in 2007 and 2009.

Which brings us to Wednesday's violence, and to our two reasons for hope.

First, Otunbayeva, a democrat and leader of the Social Democratic Party, has in the past demonstrated a willingness to leave government when it gets — for want of a better phrase — too draconian. In 2004, she fell out with President Akayev to become a key leader in the Tulip Revolution. Otunbayeva then quickly lost the support of the newly-installed Bakiyev Government, pushing instead for a new democratic constitution in 2006. 

Second, Otunbayeva boasts good relations with Russia, the West and the UN. As a former Soviet Ambassador to Malaysia, a former Kyrgyz Ambassador to the US, Canada and the UK, and a former deputy Head of the UN special mission to Georgia, Obunbayeva will be receptive to the entreaties of foreign stakeholders. This is likely to include a positive reaction to calls for democratic reforms within Kyrgyzstan.

For now, we can only wait in anticipation.

Photo by Flickr user timbrauhn, used under a Creative Commons license.