Key point: May’s best option in terms of domestic politics is to offer the US logistical and intelligence support, avoiding the need either to bypass parliament or to risk losing a vote. If she wants to do more than that, she’ll have to take significant political risks.
Key point: Parliament has no legal war powers, but most MPs expect a say over future military combat operations. Future governments will face two related choices – do they think they can afford to bypass MPs, and do they think they can win a vote? What they do will depend on how they answer these questions (we’re in scenario 4 right now):
Key point: The Cameron government’s defeat over Syria said more about party politics than it did about military strategy. Had Cameron successfully done a deal with Ed Miliband, the 2013 Syria vote could have been won.
Key point: Cumulative precedents set in parliamentary votes on Iraq in 2003, Libya in 2011 and Syria in 2013 established a convention that MPs should have the chance to veto military combat deployments.
The prospect of UK military action against the Assad regime has returned to newspaper front pages. In light of parliament’s 2013 decision to block similar strikes, some Conservative MPs have argued that the Prime Minister should avoid a House of Commons vote, and rely on her authority under the Royal Prerogative to order British involvement. In this short post, I consider the different options available to May from a domestic politics perspective. I don’t touch on the strategic and legal difficulties with intervention against the Assad regime, but suffice to say these are considerable and largely unchanged since 2013.
Bypassing MPs is certainly an option, but it is not a straightforward one. A tentative convention has developed since MPs authorized the Iraq War in 2003 that parliament should sign off on the use of military force. It is recognized in the Cabinet Manual and has been endorsed by May’s own spokesman since she entered Downing Street. Many MPs do not even realize that their involvement in decisions on military action in Libya in 2011, Syria in 2013 (which they vetoed), Iraq in 2014 and Syria in 2015 derived from convention rather than law. Ignoring them would have political costs. May should not take this path without accepting that it might further undermine her shaky position in parliament, and without being willing to risk consequences up to and including a motion of no confidence.
Asking MPs for prior approval before joining US-led strikes also looks like a problematic option. It would be consistent with the War Powers Convention. But it seems highly likely that the government would struggle to win, just as David Cameron did in 2013. The government lacks an overall majority. While the DUP has supported military action in the past, it is not bound by the terms of its confidence-and-supply arrangement to support it in future. Its MPs have consistently argued that any use of force must be focused on upholding the national interest, and there is no direct British national interest at stake in Syria, at least as far as the Assad regime is concerned. The main opposition parties – Labour and the SNP – are likely to oppose further intervention in Syria. Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has a strong track record of voting against military action – he was, for example, one of just thirteen MPs who opposed intervention in Libya. Though Labour split over action against Da’esh in 2015, with Shadow Foreign Secretary Hilary Benn leading 60+ Labour MPs in supporting the government, the party looks more united now and the moral case for action is weaker.
May could order the use of force, then seek retrospective approval from MPs. David Cameron did this over Libya in 2011 and in authorizing a UAV strike on Syria in 2015. MPs do not, as a rule, like it when governments take this route. Cameron argued it was sometimes necessary, in light of an imminent threat to national security or humanitarian disaster, to act first and ask permission later. It is difficult to see how May could claim either exception to join US strikes against Assad. British national security is not directly threatened, and the humanitarian situation has largely remained unchanged for seven years.
May could, finally, restrict British participation in action against Assad to non-combat roles, such as providing surveillance and logistical support to its US and French allies, or by deploying Special Forces. Neither non-combat actions nor Special Forces operations presently fall under the War Powers Convention, meaning May retains discretion to act as she sees fit. Opponents of further engagement in Syria might, however, push back against this – they managed to prevent the Cameron government offering military support to opposition groups, for example, and one of the benefits of having a War Powers Convention instead of a War Powers Act is that MPs can demand more power over situations they particularly care about.
In sum, therefore, the May government’s best political option is probably not to join direct military action in Syria. Instead, it should offer its allies indirect support, perhaps including the use of Special Forces for reconnaissance purposes. That would enable it to demonstrate a degree of usefulness at a difficult diplomatic moment, without risking either holding, or visibly bypassing, a parliamentary vote.
I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Perhaps I’ve read too much Tony Blair, and absorbed the idea that there’s always a ‘third way’ somewhere. I think there is a form of Brexit that gives both Leavers and Remainers something that they want. I call it Medium Brexit.
Medium Brexit might also be called ‘hard in theory, soft in practice’ Brexit, but that’s a bit wordy. It involves all the trappings of hard Brexit – leaving the Single Market and Customs Union, removing the UK from ECJ jurisdiction and ending free movement of people into the UK from the (rest of the) EU.
At the same time, it also involves using the UK’s new-found independence judiciously. Having the right to ban all EU citizens from coming to work in the UK, but using it sensibly. Having the right to deviate substantially from EU regulations, but doing so only where it truly offers benefits that outweigh the costs – including the costs of increased barriers to entry to the EU market, and the costs of establishing a hard border on the island of Ireland. No longer being subject to ECJ oversight, but retaining existing jurisprudence and giving the Supreme Court the right to draw on ECJ judgements in determining its own stance.
Medium Brexit gives the Leavers much of what they want. Not necessarily a dramatic change in policy, but a repatriation of previously pooled sovereignty. Parliament would have the right to copy or to ignore new EU regulations. The Courts would have the right to emulate or set aside ECJ decisions. Ministers would have the right to admit or to exclude EU workers, to direct them towards sectors with specific needs – like agriculture, science, finance and healthcare – and to deny them whatever benefits they choose, but would not be obliged to do anything unless they thought it best for the British economy and for British society.
Medium Brexit also offers Remainers some of what they want. In particular, it leaves considerable room for regulatory alignment with the EU, avoiding a race to the bottom in areas like workers’ rights and environmental protections, and allowing European co-operation in areas currently working well, like financial and medical regulation. It would allow for movement between the UK and the EU – not unfettered movement, but not the travel bans and mass deportations of some nightmare scenarios. It would minimize – again, not necessarily eliminate, but perhaps reduce to a tolerable level – the need for border controls between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.
Theresa May’s biggest mistake was treating the question of what Brexit should mean as one she should answer alone. She should have consulted, openly, widely and for as long as it took to thrash out a compromise vision. Had she done so, we might have wound up with something that looks like Medium Brexit. Hard in terms of sovereignty, soft in terms of divergence. Not perfect, by anyone’s criteria. But perhaps acceptable to a majority – unlike anything May has come up with alone.
Theresa May’s great gamble failed. She hasn’t resigned yet, but she will. Her credibility is shot. Her majority is gone. Though the Conservatives can probably form a government with support from the Democratic Unionists of Northern Ireland, it will be weak and wobbly at best, not the ‘strong and stable government’ May promised. Even if she tries to stay in power, her party will probably get rid of her. Who comes next is unclear. Whatever the outcome, we can expect another election before the end of the year – and when that happens, all bets are off.
This was May’s election, and her defeat. She asked the electorate for a personal blank cheque – for Brexit, and whatever other challenges are to come. They refused. Jeremy Corbyn fought a far better campaign – a more interesting manifesto, with more carefully thought-out policies, smarter media work (!), and a more inspiring message. One of several reasons for the wide variation in pre-election opinion polls was that different pollsters used different approaches to estimate likely turnout. It looks like those (e.g. YouGov) who assumed respondents who promised to turn out and vote actually would got closer to the result than those who assumed past trends would continue this time around. In other words, it looks like more young people voted this time – though we’ll find out more in time.
So what does this all mean? What happens next? To begin with, Theresa May stays Prime Minister, at least until her party colleagues replace her. With DUP support she’ll be able to get her core policies through parliament, just. But something will have to change. To begin with, it is difficult to see how the government can credibly begin Brexit negotiations in 11 days’ time. May’s plan was to secure a personal mandate and a parliamentary cushion to allow her to cut whatever deal she saw fit. She failed. Given the choice, the electorate refused to endorse her proposal for ‘hard Brexit’. As I said in the immediate aftermath of the Brexit referendum last year, there is no majority in the country for any possible version of Brexit. Nor is there a majority for simply accepting whatever Theresa thinks is best.
Jeremy Corbyn will also stay on as Labour leader. He’s proven that you don’t need to be slick to inspire voters (especially the young). He’s also demonstrated that there is appetite in the country for more left-wing policies. I expect many of the MPs who have rebelled against his leadership to rally, but I still doubt he’s an election-winner.
That final point worth noting is that the nature of this hung parliament makes a further election later this year highly likely. The government will struggle to get anything done. And when that happens, all bets are off. If it’s Boris Johnson versus Jeremy Corbyn, there’s no telling what will happen. After all, we’ve just had another demonstration of the challenge of conducting accurate UK opinion polls. Constituency results deviated even more wildly from the national swing. The Conservatives took seats in Scotland and lost them in England, reversing the recent trend. More people voted for either Labour or the Conservatives than have done so for several elections. All this makes knowing what will happen at the second 2017 election that much harder. I’ll make only one prediction. Mayhem will follow.
I spent hours trying to write my take on tomorrow’s election, but I haven’t really been following it that closely and I felt I was just rambling nonsensically. I think the Conservatives will win, with an increased majority. I think it is unlikely but not impossible that either Labour will win or that the Conservatives will win by a landslide. I quite hope Ed Davey re-takes my home constituency of Kingston and Surbiton for the Liberal Democrats. I’m conscious that there is a lot of uncertainty and that the range of possible outcomes is very wide. So I decided simply to put together a reading list of links for anyone looking to enlighten themselves.
To begin with, if you have literally no idea what’s going on you might want to try the BBC general election FAQ page – which begins with the question “what is a general election?”. You can also use this page to find out which constituency you live in and who your local candidates are:
This post, by famed American poll aggregator Nate Silver (someone who looks at all the different polls and weights them depending on how reliable the same polling company has been in the past), explains the uncertainty that still surrounds the vote despite the number of polls taken:
This post, from BBC Newsnight Policy Editor Chris Cook, tries something different. It looks at where the main parties have sent their leaders to campaign, and uses this to estimate how well they think they are doing:
I was very pleased to see a full house turn out for a special panel discussion event at LSE on 27 April marking the publication of my book Public Opinion, Legitimacy and Tony Blair’s War in Iraq (Routledge). In particular I am grateful to guest panellists Professor Sir Lawrence Freedman of King’s College London and Professor Juliet Kaarbo of Edinburgh University, and to my colleagues Professor Toby Dodge for chairing the event and Sophie Wise for organizing everything. A podcast is available here but I’ve also reproduced the text of my talk below. This isn’t quite what I said – turns out I’m not that good at reading – but it’s what I meant to say.
Public Opinion, Legitimacy and Tony Blair’s War in Iraq
Democracies are not supposed to fight unpopular wars, but Britain did just that in Iraq. Professional politicians are not supposed to court career disaster by ignoring what the public wants. Tony Blair did exactly that when he ordered British forces to help overthrow Saddam Hussein despite hostile opinion polls, critical media commentary and both the largest parliamentary rebellion and the largest street protests against any government, ever.
In this book, I ask how it was possible that Britain wound up fighting a war in Iraq that so many British people considered illegitimate. It’s a complicated question. I begin by asking why public opposition failed to prevent the invasion, and show how, from a foreign policy analysis perspective, it wasn’t that surprising. I then consider how the arguments ministers made in the pre-invasion period constituted the legitimacy deficit that followed. Finally, I look at the consequences and implications of what very much deserves to be known as Tony Blair’s war.
In the first part of the book, I present what I call a ‘holistic’ account of British public opinion towards the prospect of war in Iraq during the period between January 2002 and March 2003. My holistic approach combines traditional survey methods – opinion polls – with an original content analysis of 2,115 newspaper comment pieces, 333 parliamentary speeches, participant accounts and the treasure trove of detail and documentation released by the Chilcot Report.
I argue that a holistic approach better reflects the goals of a foreign policy analysis study. As a foreign policy analyst, I’m not really interested in what public opinion objectively was. I’m interested in how political elites contested and constructed a certain idea of public opinion, and how that affected decision-making.
I also argue that a holistic approach helps compensate for some of the shortcomings of survey methods. Echoing critical analyses by Herbert Blumer and Pierre Bourdieu, I argue that opinion polls unreasonably assume that every citizen has a prior view on every foreign policy question, that they weight every individual equally when in reality some are more influential than others and that they reflect the concerns of elites with the resources to commission polls. In short, I argue that the latent views of the passive mass matter only when they are likely to be activated across the board – like when a referendum is proposed. Otherwise, I argue it is the active, elite public that really counts.
I still use opinion polls – they both reflect and shape elite discourse, and do affect decision-makers too. Slide 1 shows aggregate poll results in the pre-invasion period. It makes clear that for most of the build up to war, most poll respondents opposed the use of force in Iraq.
These results didn’t stop the war for two main reasons. Firstly because, in Douglas Foyle’s classic terms, Tony Blair was an “executor” – he thought public support was desirable, but not necessary. Ultimately, he thought it was his job to lead rather than follow public attitudes. Secondly, and relatedly, because Blair predicted that people would ‘rally round the flag’ if it actually came to war. It is well documented that support for war spikes once the fighting starts. People don’t want to look disloyal, and many resign themselves to the inevitable. Blair was right. In the final week before the invasion support went from 38% to 54%.
As Slide 2 shows, most British newspapers also predominantly opposed the invasion of Iraq.
The picture was not actually as negative as this slide suggests, however. For one thing, it combines editorial lines and the views expressed by commentators. The Observer, for example, printed more anti-war than pro-war commentary, but its editors ultimately broke with their counterparts at its stablemate the Guardian, and supported the invasion. More crucially, the papers that most strongly supported the invasion sold more copies than those that opposed the invasion. During this period the strongly pro-war Sun, for example, sold fifteen times as many copies as the anti-war Independent, nine times as many as the Guardian and 1.7 times as many as the Mirror. On average pro-war publications sold 1.88 million copies and anti-war publications 1.24 million copies. Compounding this advantage still further was that the government’s most vocal supporters were the right-wing publications that traditionally opposed Labour governments, and its main critics were the left-wing publications that traditionally supported Labour.
As slide 3 shows, finally, the government also enjoyed the support of Conservative Party MPs in the House of Commons, while the small Liberal Democrat party offered the most consistent opposition and the government’s own back-benchers also took a more anti-war than a pro-war stance. This meant the government did not need to worry about being punished by voters for ignoring their opposition – it would make no sense to switch from Labour to the Conservatives over Iraq given the Conservatives supported the war. Combined with the massive size of Labour’s 2001 election victory, it also ensured the government could survive back-bench rebellions fairly comfortably. Tony Blair then capitalized on this advantage still further by threatening to resign if MPs voted against him. Forced to choose between their most successful leader ever and Saddam Hussein, many Labour MPs backed Blair.
So from an FPA perspective it makes perfect sense that British domestic opposition failed to stop the war in Iraq. A holistic approach also allows us to consider how the direction and the intensity of public attitudes interacted. How much public attitudes matter depends on how much public actors care about the issues at stake. Slide 4 shows what share of the source material investigated during this study came from each month during the pre-invasion period.
As we can see, there were three increasingly significant spikes in public interest, around March and April 2002, September 2002 and then early 2003. The first was driven by President Bush’s condemnation of Iraq as part of an ‘axis of evil’ during his first State of the Union speech in January, and Blair’s subsequent visit to his Texas ranch in April. The second was driven by widespread debate in Washington during August 2002 over the prospect of war in Iraq, by the Blair government’s failure to respond sufficiently quickly to media demands for more information and by the speculation that followed. The third was driven by the UN inspection process, the deployment of troops and ultimately the start of the war.
Slide 5 combines data on the direction and intensity of attitudes in polls, parliament and the press. It shows spikes in opposition in March 2002, August 2002 and February 2003 followed by a rally effect across all three source types in March 2003. Crucially, what the holistic approach shows is that the first two spikes declined largely because the government released more information that calmed speculation. In April 2002 Blair made clear publicly that he supported confronting Saddam Hussein but that there was no immediate prospect of military action. In September 2002 Bush promised to work through the UN while Blair released the now-notorious ‘dossier’ on Iraqi WMD. In February 2003 Blair successfully blamed France for scuppering the UN process while the inevitability of war bred resignation among opponents.
This observation – that the government’s communications efforts changed few minds but lowered the salience of Iraq as an issue – then plays into the discussion of legitimacy in part 2.
Tony Blair tried to argue his way to war in Iraq. He made set-piece speeches, held press conferences and published information dossiers. He took questions from MPs and live television audiences. He led five major House of Commons debates in addition to his weekly question time grilling. He even appeared on MTV. He claimed he wanted a full, open and well-informed public debate on the prospect of war in Iraq, and on the surface he appeared to act that way. Surface appearances can, however, mislead.
In the second part of the book, I discuss how both the content and the form of Blair’s arguments in the pre-invasion period constituted the legitimacy deficit surrounding the war. I define legitimacy as a discursive construct, as a product of public debate. Echoing debates amongst scholars of legitimacy between advocates of political definitions – in which legitimacy derives from public consensus – and normative definitions – in which legitimacy derives from abstract principles, I present two ideal types of communicative legitimacy. At the political end is a model derived from the social theory of Michel Foucault – though I claim no particular expertise in Foucault’s work. From this Foucauldian perspective, legitimacy reflects political consensus and political consensus reflects power. Legitimacy is, in other words, simply a product of power, lacking any distinct normative value. At the normative end, meanwhile, is a model derived from Jurgen Habermas’ Theory of Communicative Action. From this Habermasian perspective, legitimacy derives not just from political consensus, but from a consensus achieved in the right way. For Habermasians, legitimacy emerges from a public debate based on truthfulness, openness to everyone looking to participate, and flexibility on the part of all involved.
I argue that the main driver of the legitimacy deficit surrounding the Iraq War was the clash between the Blair government’s explicitly and repeatedly professed commitment to seeking deliberative legitimacy in Habermasian terms, and the much more manipulative, Foucauldian reality of how it actually behaved. Though I find that ministers generally did not lie outright, they were often economical with the truth, especially when discussing the evidence underpinning their beliefs. Though Blair in particular engaged in a range of communication exercises, he still sought actively to control the timing of debates and who participated in them. Even members of the Cabinet found themselves shut out of key discussions, and Blair took certain fateful decisions alone. Finally, though some individuals like Foreign Secretary Jack Straw and (in particular) Attorney General Lord Goldsmith showed some willingness to revisit their views in the face of new evidence, most ministers and officials stuck resolutely to their established positions regardless of developments.
I further highlight a range of more specific shortcomings in the government’s communication campaign that further undermined its arguments. In particular, I talk about the claims that Iraq was developing weapons of mass destruction in violation of UN Security Council disarmament obligations that threatened British national security, that there were good grounds in international law for invading Iraq in March 2003, that overthrowing Saddam was the morally proper thing to do and that the Blair government possessed sufficient political authority to make that decision in the first place. I find each claim problematic – both in terms of Habermasian criteria, and more prosaically in terms of how persuasive they were.
Threat and WMD
By making clear pre-invasion statements about the threat posed by Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction programme, the government both undermined its claim to legitimacy in Habermasian terms and set itself standards it later struggled to meet.
To begin with, the government got key judgements wrong. MI6 failed to spot that one of its sources based his description of Iraqi chemical weapons on the movie The Rock, starring Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage. It was slow to admit as much. More generally, the Joint Intelligence Committee fell victim – admittedly, in line with several allied intelligence communities – to groupthink. Having repeatedly underestimated Iraq’s WMD capacity in the past, the JIC interpreted new intelligence as the tip of the iceberg. It also failed to update its assessments as new information came in – for example, treating the fact that UN inspectors found no banned material as evidence that Iraq was successfully concealing an active WMD programme and not considering the possibility that there was no programme to hide.
More damagingly, ministers drew conclusions that went beyond what the JIC advised. Blair wrote in his foreword to the dossier that Iraq’s WMD posed a “current and serious threat to the UK national interest”. Chilcot concluded that Blair did indeed believe that, but that the JIC did not. Indeed, MI5 advised Blair that Iraq lacked the capacity to threaten Britain directly and that it had showed no sign of intent. Blair similarly wrote that “I believe the assessed intelligence has established beyond doubt” that Iraq was developing WMD. Again, Chilcot concluded that Blair did indeed believe “beyond doubt”, but the JIC thought differently. Jack Straw summed up the issue. He told Chilcot that “all the little bits of information, however patchy and sporadic, all pointed in one direction”. The problem, however, was that – as the JIC advised both Blair and Straw – the information available was indeed “patchy and sporadic”. Indeed, Chilcot found that MI6 had no sources with first-hand knowledge of either Iraq’s capabilities or its intentions during this period. Blair described the evidence as “extensive, detailed and authoritative”. He seems genuinely to have believed it was. It was not, and he was in a position to know it was not.
Finally, the WMD dossier itself conflated the sort of neutral information exercise Blair claimed it represented – the sort of exercise required of a government seeking legitimacy in Habermasian terms – and more Foucauldian policy advocacy. Though Lord Hutton’s inquiry concluded there was nothing intrinsically wrong about the fact that the JIC consulted Alastair Campbell on the wording of the dossier, since the JIC didn’t accept phrasing that didn’t fit the intelligence, there is still a difference between publishing intelligence assessments – which are usually balanced, nuanced and uncertain – and publishing the dossier, which was clearly designed to make the case for war. One particular element that later proved controversial was the claim that Iraq could deploy chemical and biological weapons within 45 minutes of an order to do so. Journalists interpreted this as a claim that Iraq could attack Britain in that sort of timeframe. But the JIC’s assessment referred specifically to battlefield weapons, which don’t have that kind of range.
The government, in other words, was neither entirely truthful in presenting its case to the public, nor flexible in the face of contradictory information. It wasn’t that ministers lied about what they believed – it was that they believed things that were wrong, and failed to publicise how weak the evidence was on which their beliefs relied. To some extent, this worked. Though critics challenged the dossier, and it changed few minds – polls suggested just 4% of respondents shifted stance after the dossier came out, mostly anti-war to undecided – it did dampen damaging speculating over the summer of 2002. At the same time, however, the dossier established unrealistic criteria. Had the government said “we don’t really know what’s going on in Iraq, but it doesn’t look good” it would not necessarily have looked dishonest later on. But it would probably have faced much stronger opposition.
An independent commission famously described NATO’s intervention in Kosovo as “illegal, but legitimate”. Britain’s UN Ambassador Jeremy Greenstock later described the Iraq war as “legal, but of questionable legitimacy”. Chilcot refused to comment on the substantive question of whether or not the invasion of Iraq was in fact legal, but described the process by which ministers took legal advice as “far from satisfactory”. As Philippe Sands QC, a leading international lawyer, put it – “far from satisfactory” is “a career-ending phrase” in civil service language.
Part of the problem lay in the “deliberate ambiguities…necessary to get a consensus” on UN Security Council Resolution 1441 – as British ambassador to the US Christopher Meyer put it. Part of it lay also in Blair’s refusal to involve Attorney General Lord Goldsmith in negotiations surrounding the resolution, fearing either that involving him would lead to leaks, or that he would set legal standards impossible to reconcile with the political realities. As a result, Chilcot concluded that the British government voted for SCR 1441 despite the fact it “didn’t really know what it was voting for”. It took Straw and Blair until a week before the invasion to agree an interpretation. Blair clearly believed Iraq would quickly be caught refusing to co-operate with UN weapons inspectors. When that did not happen, he had to disparage an inspection process he worked hard to establish, and then search for ‘smoking guns’ he knew were unlikely to be found.
More damaging, still, was the fact that Blair believed both that Britain should uphold international law and that it was morally proper for powerful states to use force to overthrow regimes, like that in Iraq, that abused their own people. Blair believed in regime change, and he believed his own moral judgement was superior to that of those who criticised him – even the Pope himself. He never acknowledged, let alone resolved, the clash between what international law actually allowed and what he personally believed it should allow. That meant he had to downplay his strong commitment to regime change because it clashed with his equally strong commitment to acting within the law. This led to contradictions – he railed against the injustice of leaving Saddam Hussein in power and promised to do just that if Saddam complied with UN inspections. He described his “enthusiasm” for regime change and called it a “myth” that he sought it in Iraq. Blair was not truthful, in that he downplayed how strongly he believed in regime change, and failed to discuss the clash between his legal and moral positions. He was not open, in that he tried to exclude the Attorney General from policy discussions. He was not flexible, given he repeatedly rejected legal advice that did not match what he felt he could negotiate in Washington and New York, and ignored moral counsel that contradicted what he personally thought. No wonder his Chief of Staff Jonathan Powell accused him of having a “messiah complex”.
The claim that France prevented agreement on a ‘second’ UN Security Council Resolution failed all three Habermasian criteria but, interestingly, did not lead to punishment after the invasion. It was a rare example of how normative and political legitimacy can play out differently.
Then International Development Secretary Clare Short later described this claim as “one of the big deceits” of the entire pre-war period. As Ambassador Greenstock told Chilcot, Britain never secured the minimum nine votes needed to pass the ‘second’ resolution – so France’s threat to veto it was not decisive. As Blair told Bush in a private letter on 11 March 2003, however, French President Chirac’s clear determination to take a stand did “provide some cover” for Britain’s failure at the UN. Ministers and officials actively blamed France and encouraged press and parliamentary critics who echoed that blame. They continued despite frantic French efforts to clarify Chirac’s 9 March statement that “whatever the circumstances, France will vote no”. When French Foreign Minister Dominique de Villepin told Jack Straw that Chirac was still open to compromise, Straw ignored him and insisted that he “read the comments differently” – as if his interpretation of French foreign policy carried more weight than that of the French foreign minister. British ambassador to Paris Sir John Holmes wrote to London that “our position can hardly surprise the French, nor the fact that we are using Chirac’s words against him…he did say them, even if he may not have meant to express quite what we have chosen to interpret”.
No-one in Britain suggested taking France’s position – that military action might yet be necessary, but that it was not justified yet – seriously. That betrayed a lack of flexibility. Ministers maintained that France had closed off all room for compromise, despite French officials insisting the contrary. That reflected a lack of truthfulness. Finally, the government tolerated suggestions – mostly from public commentators – that France did not really deserve to have a say – that its objections were unwarranted in some way. Blair’s insistence that he could legitimately ignore an “unreasonable” veto at the Security Council underpinned this stance. This showed a lack of openness. Despite these shortcomings, the argument worked. YouGov found 70% of British voters rejected Chirac’s stance. Labour MP and Chair of the Foreign Affairs Committee Donald Anderson attacked France. A series of Sun editorials compared Chirac to “a cheap tart” and a “worm”, contrasting his “arrogance and greed” with Blair’s “highest moral principles”.
On 28 July 2002 Blair wrote to Bush “I will be with you, whatever”. Cabinet neither discussed nor even knew about this letter. In public, Blair maintained “no decisions have been taken”. At the end of October he formally offered British ground troops to the US for planning purposes. In mid-January 2003 he privately gave up on the UN inspection process and approved invasion plans. Again, Cabinet was not told. It is true that the government faced widespread and at times unreasonable press hostility. It is true that some Cabinet ministers leaked everything they heard about Iraq to the press at the earliest opportunity. It is true that some parts of the government’s argument could not have survived a full, frank, open and flexible public debate.
But the Blair government, and Tony Blair in particular, repeatedly claimed they sought a proper public deliberation. In making that claim, then failing so dramatically to meet it, they created the conditions for the legitimacy deficit that followed. At the same time they made inconsistent, irreconcilable and incorrect arguments that became impossible criteria for success.
That the Stop the War movement failed to stop the war made a good deal of sense. That it nevertheless wound up widely regarded as illegitimate made sense, too. Ultimately the approach the government took proved neither properly deliberative nor persuasive.
What we learn from all this is simple. How governments talk about foreign policy matters. It influences public debate, though more by raising and lowering the salience of an issue than by persuading people to adopt a different view. It determines both the political and the normative legitimacy of a decision. It establishes criteria for success. The clash between deliberation and persuasion in the Blair government’s case for war in Iraq explains a good part of the legitimacy deficit surrounding it. Shortcomings in the specific arguments made explain the bulk of the rest. It would perhaps have been better not to have talked so much after all.
I have just sent this letter to my local MP, James Berry of Kingston and Surbiton, asking him to defy the Conservative Party whip and vote against the invocation of Article 50 on the grounds that his constituents voted remain and he is vulnerable to a ‘progressive’ challenger at the 2020 general election.