Many commentators have discussed the “strategic ambiguity” — undoubtably purposeful — of the Security Council’s resolution authorizing the use of force in Libya. The resolution speaks of protection of civilians, but nowhere nails down the following, among many other issues:
- Is regime change a lawful policy as the means to protection of civilians? There is little question that the Obama administration believes that it is the preferred outcome, but is that built into the terms of the SC resolution? Alternatively, does the resolution permit only narrow actions either in defense of civilians coming under direct attack?
- Are the civilians only those who are genuinely non-combatants, or does it include, as has been suggested, even those civilians who have taken up arms in rebellion? Meaning, does it include fighters who take part in hostilities but who are, under current rubrics in the law of armed conflict, regarded by many as still “civilians” even if targetable by opposing forces on account of their participation?
- Does the US remain committed to its Kosovo-era view that Security Council authorization for humanitarian intervention might be a good idea or legitimizing or diplomatically useful — but not a legal necessity? Or has it by implication, and by the decidedly expansive language of its diplomats, accepted — or at least significantly furthered — the idea that only the Security Council can authorize such expeditions. This was, after all, what the 2005 UN reform Final Outcome document — a General Assembly resolution, but one with greater diplomatic weight than most, because of its connection to a larger UN reform debate — said about the much-debated Responsibility to Protect, that it required Security Council authorization.
The fundamental fudge in all of this debate arises over the meaning of “humanitarian” action in relation to the use of force. It might have a broad meaning that endorses, in this particular instance, regime change as the only way to achieve the humanitarian outcome — in other words, taking sides in the war, but without openly acknowledging it. Or it might have a narrow meaning (or several potential narrow meanings) that limits intervention to “neutral” humanitarian activities. Ensuring the delivery of humanitarian aid might be one such activity, even if it means using force; but the activity itself does not take sides and remains neutral. Or it might have a narrow meaning that allows the interventionists to target fighters insofar as they are engaged in unlawful attacks upon civilians; once again, the interventionists are “neutral” and in a role akin to referees to ensure that the fighting sides leave the true non-combatants out of it.
Different parties — read China and Russia and many other countries in the world not present on the Security Council — are able to take the Security Council resolution in any of these or other ways. It was almost certainly drafted precisely to that ambiguous end. The upside, of course, is that it provides an avenue by which parties can move forward. The downside, equally obviously, is that precisely that features that make ambiguity attractive in the short run are the features that cause it to come-a-cropper in the longer run. A longer run that, in the case of Libya, might turn out to be days or weeks rather than years or decades.
Strategic ambiguity, as I discuss in a
certain forthcoming book, is often a bad idea for these reasons, no matter how beloved of diplomats. It indeed has an honorable, if occasional, place: the fiction of the two Chinas has long been a useful ambiguity, since the alternative might be a truly devastating conflict. The question is one of judgment as to whether ambiguity lessens or instead stores up greater trouble in the future.