Foreign policy: Guided by the masses or the elite?

Reflecting on the ideal civil government, the 17th century philosopher John Locke concluded that a country’s foreign policy is better left to the professionals. “What is to be done in reference to foreigners, depending much upon their actions and the variation of designs and interests, must be left in great part to the prudence of those who have this power committed to them, to be managed by the best of their skill for the advantage of the commonwealth.”

International affairs are too complex, delicate and long-term in nature to be safely exposed to vulgar public sentiment.

Locke’s view on the mystical aspect of international relations still persists today. A recently published review of the challenges for Australia’s foreign policy professionals puts an emphasis on the need for sensitivity and particular skills in decoding language.

“Diplomacy attends to words and gestures and moods far more carefully than ordinary exchanges,” it argues. “For this is an area in which a misjudged word, or a misinterpreted message, can have disastrous consequences.” Critics of Australia’s recent foreign policy employ a similar rationale when attacking the government.

According to Professor Stephen FitzGerald, head of the Asia-Australia Institute, Prime Minister John Howard has pandered to the worst elements of common prejudice in his belief that foreign policy stems from ‘‘ordinary Australians’’ - the people.

‘‘But the people,’’ says FitzGerald, ‘‘even if their support was not fickle, don’t make foreign policy. It’s made by people with power or influence: political, bureaucratic, business, professional, academic and other elites.’’

All of this suggests that Locke’s prescription for expert management over the affairs of state has yet to be fulfilled. So, in a democracy, how much public input is welcome into foreign policy?

Schapelle Corby’s conviction for smuggling marijuana into Indonesia has sharpened this question, thanks to the foaming wave of public indignation that has since covered Australia. Corby’s trial brought out the most regressive elements of White Australia’s chauvinism. A radio commentator decried the three wise monkeys ‘‘who don’t even speak English’’ yet serve as learned Indonesian judges.

Her supporters blamed the Balinese court for unfairly taking the word of a ‘‘liar’’, ‘‘one of your people’’. Defence commentator Geoffrey Barker appropriately described these as ‘‘offensive and banal displays of the great Australian awfulness’’. He also warned this public outpouring was ‘‘potentially damaging to long-term Australian regional interests’’.

Other thoughtful observers concurred. It would be ‘‘very unfortunate’’, said the Australian Financial Review editorial, if Corby’s conviction were ‘‘elevated through government intervention or media hysteria on either side’’ to threaten Australia-Indonesia ties.

This betrays a fear that if foreign policy decisions were put to a vote in Australia, the SAS would by now be skipping back across the Arafura Sea, after mounting a daring break-in to rescue our Schapelle from the squalid Bali prison.

Some analysts feel the media coverage is largely to blame for the emotional public reaction. ‘‘Marshalled’’ by the Australian popular media, wrote RMIT academic Jeff Lewis in a Melbourne newspaper recently, the governments of Indonesia and Australia have been ‘‘lured’’ and the public ‘‘seduced’’ by simplistic polemics and myth-making, under a sinister ‘‘motif of nationalism and xenophobia’’.

Such assessments are plausible. But we should first assess our view of the news media. Do journalists act, as is so often characterised, as a spotlight that searches the darkness to expose a story, illuminating the facts (or succumbing to the spin) for all the public to see? Or is the media a mirror, one fashioned by the public it serves, reflecting our innate desires, hopes and even our ugliness?

It is worth recalling that during recent years, many events have acted to both stress and strengthen the Australia-Indonesia relationship:

• The popular appeal of Pauline Hanson after 1996, her taunts about the ‘‘danger of being swamped by Asians’’ and the perception of John Howard’s tacit support for her views;
• Australia’s weak diplomatic response to humanitarian atrocities in East Timor coordinated by the Indonesian military in early 1999, the eventual deployment of a United Nations peacekeeping operation under Australian leadership and the Prime Minister’s initial acceptance of the leitmotif ‘‘Deputy Sheriff’’ for the region;
• Exploiting the fear of an asylum-seeker influx in 2001, the Government’s chest-beating over sending the boats back to Indonesia, culminating in President Megawati’s refusal to answer Howard’s phone calls; and
• The Bali bombings in 2002, the Australian Government’s subsequent declaration of the right to take pre-emptive military action if necessary, and the Australian embassy bombing last year.

Each of these issues has produced an avalanche of advice on how to better manage Australia’s relations with its northern neighbour. Invariably, the media has been blamed for agitating and complicating an already fragile bilateral relationship.

And in most cases, there has been a gulf between popular opinion and the preferences of expert management. As the Lowy Institute showed in a survey issued in April this year, just under half of the Australian respondents professed negative feelings towards Indonesia. If the media is a reflection of the nation, problems like these will continue to plague dealings between the two countries until both peoples understand one another better. This means building public awareness of the key mutual interests and cultural differences.

This necessary renewal cannot be achieved by careful elite management alone. Quarantining foreign policy away from the public only reinforces jingoism, rather than promoting understanding. To the detriment of the nation, many mistakenly follow Locke’s hackneyed advice. Instead, we might look to the counsel of a more contemporary philosopher.

Bob Hawke put it well soon after taking office. ‘‘A government’s foreign policy will ultimately stand or fall on the extent to which it commands the public support and understanding of its domestic community. Where such support is not forthcoming even vigorously pursued policies will collapse.’’