• Saudi Arabia
    Jamal Khashoggi’s Disappearance Is Even Stranger Than It Seems
    The full text of this article is available here on ForeignPolicy.com. What in the world? No seriously, what the…? When it comes to Saudi Arabia these days, things could not get weirder or uglier. Last November, Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman forced Lebanon’s Prime Minister to resign—from Riyadh in a television appearance that had all the characteristics of a hostage video. At the same time, Saudi authorities detained almost 400 people in the Ritz-Carlton over corruption charges, only to release them after they handed over significant sums of cash and assets in what appeared to be little more than a shakedown. This past spring and summer, the government began arresting women activists, some of whom had been at the forefront of the decades long fight to drive that ended with a lift on the ban in June, and declared them traitors. Then, in August, Saudi leaders lashed out at Canada over a tweet criticizing their treatment of oppositionists—canceling flights, preventing Saudi students on government scholarship from studying at Canadian universities, and transferring sick Saudis from Canada’s hospitals. All of this was going on against the backdrop of the ill-conceived war in Yemen. And now, a Saudi journalist named Jamal Khashoggi—a onetime confidant of senior Saudi officials and princes—has vanished. He disappeared into Saudi Arabia’s Istanbul consulate on Oct. 2 and has not been heard from since. The Turks say he is dead, killed in the consulate by a hit team, with his body removed in boxes. The Saudis have declared this grisly tale nonsense and insist Khashoggi left the consulate not long after he arrived.
  • Saudi Arabia
    Jamal Khashoggi’s Disappearance Is Even Stranger Than It Seems
    This article first appeared here on ForeignPolicy.com on October 9, 2018. What in the world? No seriously, what the…? When it comes to Saudi Arabia these days, things could not get weirder or uglier. Last November, Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman forced Lebanon’s Prime Minister to resign—from Riyadh in a television appearance that had all the characteristics of a hostage video. At the same time, Saudi authorities detained almost 400 people in the Ritz-Carlton over corruption charges, only to release them after they handed over significant sums of cash and assets in what appeared to be little more than a shakedown. This past spring and summer, the government began arresting women activists, some of whom had been at the forefront of the decades long fight to drive that ended with a lift on the ban in June, and declared them traitors. Then, in August, Saudi leaders lashed out at Canada over a tweet criticizing their treatment of oppositionists—canceling flights, preventing Saudi students on government scholarship from studying at Canadian universities, and transferring sick Saudis from Canada’s hospitals. All of this was going on against the backdrop of the ill-conceived war in Yemen. And now, a Saudi journalist named Jamal Khashoggi—a onetime confidant of senior Saudi officials and princes—has vanished. He disappeared into Saudi Arabia’s Istanbul consulate on Oct. 2 and has not been heard from since. The Turks say he is dead, killed in the consulate by a hit team, with his body removed in boxes. The Saudis have declared this grisly tale nonsense and insist Khashoggi left the consulate not long after he arrived. When the story broke on Saturday by way of a thinly sourced Reuters story followed by more substantial coverage from the Washington Post—where Khashoggi had become a columnist last year—a social media uproar ensued. Twitter was alight with frightened and outraged fellow journalists, analysts recounting a litany of alleged Saudi crimes, politicians demanding accountability, activists with maudlin paeans to a now apparently martyred critic, Saudis arguing that Khashoggi disappeared because he got cold feet over his impending marriage to a Turkish woman, and a few voices cautioning that the declarations of known Justice and Development Party (AKP) provocateurs and unnamed “Turkish security sources” should be taken with a grain of salt. It was a massive outpouring of bile and one-upmanship that was notable even by the notoriously low standards of Twitter. The most important question has been left unanswered, of course: What happened to Jamal Khashoggi? It seems abundantly clear that he never left the consulate, and the Saudi explanation that they cannot prove it because their security cameras weren’t working that day has a “dog ate my homework” quality to it.  If he is not dead and really is a runaway groom, then surely someone must have seen him somewhere—there must be a trail of credit card charges, ATM transactions, or grainy footage from the departure gates at the airport in Istanbul before he made his getaway. For their part, Turkish police sources claim it was premeditated murder, but thus far they have not offered any proof. The Turkish state’s Anadolu news agency, which has often had a problem with the truth, added to the story with ominous reports that 15 Saudis flew into Istanbul aboard two different private jets, that this apparent hit team was in the consulate at the time of Khashoggi’s disappearance, and they all left on Oct. 2. Still, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan seemed to back away from these claims on Sunday, before taking a tougher stand the following day. Either he is being atypically diplomatic—the Saudis and Turks are wary of each other but have worked to remain cordial despite significant differences—or the Turks have suspicions, but little evidence of Saudi misdeeds. It also seems odd that Khashoggi, who was fearful enough for his well-being to leave Saudi Arabia and live in self-imposed exile in the United States, believed that visiting the Saudi consulate in Istanbul—twice—was safe. The press reports that Khashoggi went there to obtain paperwork attesting to the fact that he is not married—he is divorced—before tying the knot with a 36-year old Turkish woman named Hatice Cengiz. To make things weirder, the Saudi press claims that Khashoggi’s son, who is still in Saudi Arabia, knows nothing of Cengiz and his father’s engagement to her. Of course, given the response to Khashoggi’s disappearance, the son is almost certainly under significant pressure to stick with Riyadh’s version of events. One can imagine that the Saudi authorities, already paranoid about the Qataris and their allies, were suspicious of Khashoggi’s fiancee given her alleged connections to Qatar and someone in Erdogan’s inner circle named Yasin Aktay. He has been identified as a friend of Khashoggi’s and an “AKP advisor” in the press, but he is much more than that. Aktay is more like a troubleshooter and troublemaker on behalf of the Turkish president. Indeed, Cengiz’s Twitter feed reveals that she does follow people who are critics of Saudi Arabia, organizations known to enjoy Qatari funding, Muslim Brothers—to whom Khashoggi was sympathetic—and Turkey’s ruling party, but so do a lot of people, including myself. Everything that everyone has said about Jamal Khashoggi to date remains speculation. The only thing that has been confirmed is that no one has seen the man in over a week. He is presumed dead. Are there any lessons to be learned from this episode? A few. It is surprising that there are so many who seem all too willing to accept the version of events that are attributed to Turkish security sources. These claims were uncorroborated—and remain so—but were quickly accepted as fact. This does not mean that they are untrue, but Turkey is a country with a poor record of press freedom, and its leaders and their supporters have embraced disinformation as a political strategy and a tool of foreign policy. Even if the Turks have no incentive to lie, commentators should be cautious before engaging in public melodrama over Khashoggi’s fate based on Turkish leaks. Second, the Saudis need to ask themselves why they have even less credibility than the Turks. It is likely that they will blame everyone but themselves for this state of affairs, but the disappearance of Khashoggi is just the latest in a list of bizarre series of events for which the Saudis have offered a variety of explanations that have more often than not been met with collective disbelief. No doubt there are dedicated Saudi critics out there who would assail the Saudis no matter what they do, but even to fair-minded observers, they seem guilty because their stories rarely add up, leading one to conclude that they must be guilty. To many, the Saudis are now cold-blooded killers, and Mohammed bin Salman is not a benevolent despot—an image that he and his advisors have cultivated—but a despot in the mold of Saddam Hussein. Finally, and most poignantly, journalists, academics, dissidents, and oppositionists should fear for their lives. Governments have long targeted these groups, but now seems to be a particularly dangerous moment, especially for journalists. Russian President Vladimir Putin has been ordering the killing people he does not like at will—on St. Petersburg streets, at Washington hotels, in small British cities, and elsewhere. Turkey, the leading jailer of journalists in the world, has kidnapped followers of the exiled cleric Fethullah Gulen in Asia and Europe—and just before the Khashoggi disappearance, one of Erdogan’s closest advisors warned that Turkey’s dragnet would extend across the globe. Egypt is also a notorious jailer of reporters, holds countless other who oppose the regime, is responsible for the brutal death of an Italian graduate student, and killed at least 800 people in a Cairo neighborhood in a single morning in August 2013. China recently disappeared the Chinese head of Interpol and has interned a million people in concentration camps. Now, the Saudis stand accused of murder. If they did it, they will likely get away with it—not on Twitter or the editorial pages of the Washington Post and the New York Times, but where it counts: in the White House. Ours is an era of international thuggishness combined with a total absence of norms. That makes everyone a target.  
  • Turkey
    Could A Coalition of the “Friends of Turkey” Ride to Turkey’s Financial Rescue?
    Turkey is in a bit of financial trouble. It isn’t clear that today's rate hike on its own will be enough. The rate hike will make the lira a bit more attractive to foreign investors (and will raise the return on domestic residents holding lira deposits too).  But it will squeeze the banks—who run a funding mismatch in lira. And higher rates on lira won’t change the fact that Turkey, its banks, and its firms, have more dollar and euro debt coming due than they have liquid external reserves. Turkey is also a NATO ally of the United States, and, at least in theory, possibly a future member of the European Union. Though in both cases, Turkey’s actual position is, let’s say, rather complicated.  The United States and Turkey disagree more than they agree, despite being treaty allies. And there is no realistic possibility Turkey will be admitted to the European Union anytime in the foreseeable future. In the past, though, Turkey’s geopolitical significance would have added to the pressure on the United States to support an IMF package to bolster Turkey’s reserves.   And Turkey fits into the IMF’s current policy template for the kind of countries that deserve large scale financial support relatively well (e.g. it fits into the Fund’s exceptional access policy framework*), at least in some ways. It has a solid underlying fiscal position, even if it needs a bit of long-term fiscal adjustment and likely faces a significant bank recapitalization bill. Its government doesn’t have that much debt, and most of Turkey’s treasury debt is denominated in lira rather than dollars and euros. It’s just a bit short of external reserves, and its banks have an awful lot of short-term external debt.    Erdogan, of course, doesn’t want to go to the IMF—so the question of whether the United States would support a Turkish rescue is a bit theoretical for now. The more interesting question for the moment is whether Turkey might find a geo-strategic coalition of the willing that would be able to mobilize sufficient financial support to make a real economic difference without requiring that Turkey go to the IMF. The answer, I think, hinges on how much money Turkey needs—and of course just how much risk a coalition of the “friends of Turkey” might be willing to take. And to make it interesting, in a financial sense, I think you have to leave China and Europe out.   China has—in my view—about a trillion more reserves than it needs. And it has substantial lending capacity outside of its central bank as well: the annual increase in the external lending of China’s state banks recently has been about $100 billion a year. For all intents and purposes, China can mobilize financing if it wants to on a scale comparable to the IMF. But there is no sign for now that China has any interest in doing so. The institutional and political barriers to any European rescue are much higher. The EU doesn’t have a big existing facility that is well-suited for Turkey (see Claeys and Wolff of Bruegel), and it almost certainly would never lend without the IMF’s participation. But if it had the will to create a special Turkish Loan Facility, the underlying financial capacity is there—especially if lending were combined with pressure on European banks to maintain their existing exposure to their Turkish subsidiaries and other Turkish borrowers.  What of Russia and Qatar? Russia has about $450 billion in total reserves—$370 billion in foreign exchange reserves, and around $75 billion in gold. That’s about $75 billion more foreign exchange than the post-sanction, post-oil shock low of around $300 billion. And Russia’s reserves have been growing—they are up over $25 billion in the last year, thanks to funds set aside in Russia’s oil stabilization fund—though this inflow has temporarily been suspended to support the ruble. Finally, Russia runs a sizeable current account surplus too, one that should easily top $75 billion in 2018. For all that, lending Turkey $100 billion (well over 5 percent of Russia’s GDP) would be a financial stretch—foreign exchange reserves would dip below $350 billion if a large part was made available upfront. But in my view, Russia probably could join together with others to cover a $50 billion package while maintaining a decent reserve buffer of its own.   And if Russia wanted to structure a portion of its aid a bit more creatively, it also could help Turkey over time by convincing Gazprom to provide Turkey with gas at below market prices… Qatar is really, really rich. It has a huge amount of gas (and some oil too) relative to its population, and has accumulated one of the world’s largest sovereign wealth funds. It is again running a current account surplus too thanks to higher gas prices, even with some rather large domestic spending commitments. Plus Qatar historically hasn’t been afraid of leverage—its state backed banks could chip in. The only question is whether Qatar has enough spare foreign exchange lying around that it could lend a large chunk to Turkey while remaining in a financial standoff with its neighbors. Qatar has already promised $15 billion to Turkey—though it isn’t clear over what time frame. And in a bad scenario, Turkey needs foreign exchange today, not a promise of loans to fund new buildings and the like over time. The form Qatar’s support takes matters as well as the size.   Between them, though, I suspect Russia and Qatar likely could match the $50 billion the IMF provided Argentina over three years—the comparison works because Argentina is an economy that is (broadly) comparable in size to Turkey. But would that be enough? Well, it depends. Turkey’s current account deficit was running at a roughly $50 billion annual pace before the latest fall in the lira. It has been attracting about $10 billion in FDI, leaving a gap of $40 billion that the market currently isn’t willing to fill in. However, the current account deficit is clearly now falling sharply. Auto sales were down by 50 percent in August. The lira has already fallen significantly, Turkey’s government has promised a bit of fiscal consolidation, Turkey’s banks seem to have more or less stopped lending and Turkey is heading for a potentially sharp recession. Robin Brooks of the IIF thinks Turkey’s underlying current account is now heading toward a surplus—I want to see confirmation, but it seems safe to assume that the Turkey no longer needs to worry about financing a current account deficit. What then is Turkey’s financing need? Well, it depends. Turkey has about $180 billion external debt coming due, according to the latest central bank data. And most of that is denominated in foreign currency. The Central Bank of Turkey’s foreign exchange reserves are now just over $75 billion, and the banks may have about $25 billion (or a bit less now) in foreign exchange of their own. I left out Turkey's gold reserves, in part because they are in large part borrowed from the banks and unlikely to be usable.   Turkey’s banks also have about $160 billion in domestic foreign currency deposits. To be absolutely safe with that funding structure, Turkey would need to hold about $300 billion in reserves, or maybe $250 billion if the rule would be a year’s external rollovers and all domestic sight deposits in foreign currency. It obviously falls far short.   Let’s assume that Turkey’s foreign currency deposits stick around. Historically they have. And well, if they don’t, Turkey is clearly in big trouble. The potential drain from the $180 billion in external debt coming due depends on the rollover rate—if everyone renews their lending and Turkey’s current account goes away, Turkey would be able to survive on its current reserves. And it depends a bit on how carefully Turkey guards its reserves. All Turkey owes non-residents holding a lira denominated government bond is the lira that has been promised—if the foreign investors want dollars instead, they have to go and buy those in the market. Turkey’s government is under no obligation to provide the dollars. Similarly, Turkey’s government is under no obligation to provide dollars to firms that have maturing external debts.   Obviously if non-resident investors with maturing lira bonds are buying dollars and firms are buying dollars, the lira could fall significantly—and that has other consequences. But it’s also worth differentiating a bit between the external debt of the banks (the financial sector has over $100 billion coming due according to the central bank's data, with at least $70 billion and probably more in foreign currency—that counts the short-term debt of the state banks together with all claims on the private financial sector) and the government ($5 billion and other financing need). And it is of course possible to do an even finer grained scenario. The banks’ foreign currency debt is composed of a mix of deposits, syndicated loans from international banks, other loans, and a few bonds. The rollover rate in each category will vary. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that one third of all maturing external claims rolls off. That would burn through $60 billion in reserves—that could come directly from the roll off of bank claims, or from a decision now to allow a surge in foreign exchange demand from firms (or holds of lira bonds) to feed through entirely into the exchange rate. Turkey and its banks start with $100 billion in foreign exchange—perhaps enough to survive for the year if firms with external debt are left to fend for themselves. But it is close at best. Remember, the lower reserves go, the more likely a broader run becomes. In a run you want to get out and get paid in foreign exchange even if the underlying bank may be solvent because, well, you know the bank will run out of foreign exchange, and it is better to have a dollar in hand than a dollar at a bank that lacks dollars.   So at some point domestic residents would start to run too. A hypothetical $50 billion loan from Russia and Qatar (with $30 billion or so provided up front — Argentina was a $50 billion IMF program with $15 billion upfront, so this is a bit more generous than the IMF's initial Argentine program) would immediately raise foreign exchange reserves at the central bank to around $100 billion (with another $25 billion in the banks). That still leave reserves below maturing short-term external debt, but it would cover the maturing foreign exchange denominated debt of the government and the banks (around $20 billion of total short-term claims on Turkey are clearly denominated in lira).**  It thus provides enough to perhaps manage in a relatively benign state of the world, but falls short of the overwhelming display of financial force that would more or less guarantee success (provided, of course, that Turkey carries out the needed policies—which is no sure thing).  And, well, it isn’t clear that a Russian and Qatari bailout would be all that reassuring to many of Turkey’s current foreign creditors. After all it would signal that Turkey is determined to go at it on its own, and not tap into the biggest potential sources of funds around. And neither Qatar nor Russia have experience providing conditional financing All that means it also would be enormously risky for both Qatar and Russia, financially speaking—   The $50 billion they might provide wouldn’t go through a multilateral institution, so their bilateral rescue would lack the protections that by custom are afforded to the multilateral lenders.  And if it is tried and fails and Erdogan ends up relenting and going to the IMF, the IMF would at a minimum face pressure not to allow its lending to be used to pay Russia and Qatar back. Normal financial logic suggests it isn’t worth it. The financial risks are too high. Russia might face tighter sanctions. And squandering your reserves on a poorly designed financial rescue while cutting pensions has some obvious domestic political risks.    Turkey—an $850 billion economy before the lira’s depreciation, more like a $600 billion economy now—is large relative to the $1.25 to $1.5 trillion GDP of Russia and the $150 billion GDP of Qatar. But it also isn’t clear that today’s world is ruled by normal financial logic.    To be clear: I seriously doubt Russia would try to lead a rescue package on its own. But I wouldn’t be totally surprised if Putin had at least asked his bankers for an assessment of what Turkey might need, and pondered the question. Turkey is a big geopolitical prize. More importantly, it should be fairly obvious that the basic logic for estimating how much Turkey needs also applies should Turkey turn to a combination of the IMF and Europe for support…   * I personally think the IMF’s exceptional access policy decision puts too much weight on fiscal debt and too little on external debt, but, well, that fight was lost several years ago (it wasn't a fair fight, the Fund had all the high cards). ** Here is a chart looking at Turkey's external foreign currency financing need. The central bank's data shows $20 billion or so of short-term claims (on an orginal maturity basis) are in lira. I didn't infer that any of the additional claims in the residual maturity numbers are in lira, so technically this could be a slight over-estimate.
  • Turkey
    We wanted Turkey to be a partner. It was never going to work.
    This article was originally published here in The Washington Post on August 17, 2018. In July, a deal to release an American minister jailed in Turkey came apart because, a White House official told The Washington Post, Turkey was changing the agreement and “upping the ante.” A few weeks later, President Trump tweeted that he had doubled tariffs on steel and aluminum imports from Turkey, punctuating his thought with: “Our relations with Turkey are not good at this time!” Magdalena Kirchner, an analyst at Conias Risk Intelligence, told Newsweek that this would stop both sides from seeking “consensus for the sake of the alliance.” In March, writing for Foreign Policy in response to outrage after Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan threatened American forces in Syria, former Bush administration officials James F. Jeffrey and Michael Singh soberly declared, “Turkey is a regional geographic and economic giant that stands as a buffer between Europe and the Middle East, and between the Middle East and Russia.” Writing for The Post, the Atlantic Council’s Matthew Bryza argued that “the White House has decided to give up on Turkey as an ally.” American officials have often insisted on seeing Turkey, a NATO ally since 1952, as a close partner, which is why the recent fallout seems so shocking. Don’t these two countries share interests and values? Not really. When you strip away all the happy talk, it’s clear the two nations aren’t really, and have never been, that close. This is a relationship doomed to antipathy. Alliances are never perfect, of course, and there have been moments over the past seven decades that justify Turkey’s image as a close partner of the United States: President Turgut Ozal shut down pipelines carrying Iraqi oil through Turkey during the run-up to the Gulf War, at great cost to the Turkish economy, for instance. A decade later, the Turkish government was among the first to condemn the 9/11 terrorist attacks and quickly committed troops to Afghanistan. Turkey became an important and valued component of the NATO-led International Security Assistance Force in that country. By that time, American officials had become accustomed to seeing Turkey as a partner, like their closest allies in Europe and East Asia. The country’s failure to live up to this role reveals more about our own desperation for Turkey to be something it isn’t, and about Cold War strategies, than about Turkish shortcomings. Except for Turkey’s 1974 incursion in Cyprus, which led Congress to punish Ankara with an arms embargo, conflicts and problems in the bilateral relationship could be swept aside for decades because of the overarching threat Moscow posed to both nations. In 1978, a year and a half after his inauguration, President Jimmy Carter and Congress lifted the embargo out of fear that a rift with NATO would imperil the West’s position in the eastern Mediterranean: Turkey was a physical and strategic buffer between the Soviet Union and the rest of Europe. In the decades since the Cold War ended, problems between the United States and Turkey have piled up, but Washington and Ankara no longer share a threat that mitigates these differences. After the Persian Gulf War, which Turkey supported, it grew exasperated at sanctions on Iraq that, it believed, hindered its own economy. So it began turning a blind eye to Iraqi oil exports crossing its border. When Turkey pledged to aid the mission in Afghanistan, its troops didn’t engage in combat. Turks opposed the later Iraq War on principle, which was their right, but also repeatedly threatened to undermine the stability of northern Iraq, the one region of the country that welcomed the American occupation, because it housed a separatist movement that advocated for Turkey’s oppressed Kurds. Elsewhere in the Middle East, Turkey became a champion of Hamas, supporting the organization diplomatically in its periodic conflicts with Israel and welcoming its operatives in Istanbul. In Syria, Ankara enabled extremists who used Turkish territory as a rear area in the fight against the Assad regime. And the Turkish government has stirred up unrest at Jerusalem’s holy sites. When it comes to Iran, the Turkish government (along with Brazil) negotiated a separate nuclear agreement with Tehran that ran at cross purposes to Washington’s; intentionally blew the cover on an Israeli intelligence operation in Istanbul gathering information on Iran’s nuclear program; and opposed the Obama administration’s effort to impose new U.N. sanctions on Tehran, then helped the Iranians evade those sanctions. Turkey’s incursions into northern Syria have complicated the fight against the Islamic State, for a time drawing Washington’s Syrian Kurdish allies away from the front line to face the Turks and their allies. In 2016, Erdogan threatened to allow tens of thousands of refugees to enter Europe, apparently because of suspended talks on Turkey’s European Union membership. “You did not keep your word,” he said in a speech in Istanbul. The threat, repeated months later by Turkey’s interior minister, stoked fears in Europe and the United States that such a move — intended or otherwise — would help further empower populist, nationalist and racist political forces already roiling the politics and potentially the stability of the E.U., a core strategic interest of the United States. In long-running disputes over small islands, the Turkish military has sought to intimidate Greece through repeated, needlessly provocative violations of Greek airspace. The danger from Moscow no longer justifies overlooking these significant differences in priorities. In fact, the Turkish government is buying an air defense system from the Russians that could provide Moscow with information about the American F-35 fighter jet, the newest high-tech plane in the U.S. arsenal, which Turkey also plans to fly. Under these circumstances, lamenting the end of our partnership with Turkey seems absurd. To be fair, from the Turkish perspective, the United States is not much of an ally, either. A staggering number of Turks believe that Washington was complicit in the attempted 2016 coup d’etat. One poll conducted online in 2016 by a Turkish newspaper found that almost 7 in 10 Turks blamed the CIA. This patently false idea (which Erdogan and other officials have nurtured) along with Trump’s tweet makes Erdogan’s latest accusation that the United States is attempting an economic coup all the more plausible to the Turkish public. Meanwhile, Washington’s Syrian Kurdish allies are directly linked to a Turkish Kurdish terrorist organization, the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, that has carried out a violent campaign against Turkey since the mid-1980s. So it’s easy to understand why U.S. approval ratings in Turkey hover between the low and high teens. The speed with which relations deteriorated after the deal to free the clergyman imploded highlights a relationship marked by frustration and mistrust, not common aims. It is no wonder the Turks seldom, if ever, defend their relationship with Washington. They believe America seeks to do them harm. In an address to Turkey’s parliament in 2009, President Barack Obama said: “The United States and Turkey have not always agreed on every issue, and that’s to be expected — no two nations do. But we have stood together through many challenges over the last 60 years.” Even with the hopeful gloss, that’s closer to reality than the standard characterization of the two nations as close partners. With the current tensions, expect the debate over who “lost Turkey,” and calls to protect the alliance, to grow louder. But it is hard to really lose an ally when it was not much of one to begin with.
  • Turkey
    A Trade War Won't Fix Turkey
    President Trump is loving his trade wars. He hits Iran with sanctions, and European companies as well as American ones obediently cut ties with the country. He goes toe-to-toe with China, and the Chinese stock market falls. He takes a whack at Turkey, and the country descends into a full-blown currency crisis. Through all this, the U.S. economy is humming. “Tariffs are working big time,” Trump tweetedrecently. The president is discovering that the United States has some extraordinary advantages when it comes to economic war. It has the world’s largest economy, to which all other nations want access. It runs a huge trade deficit, meaning that it has more imports — and hence more opportunities to impose tariffs or sanctions — than any other nation. It is wide-open to foreign investment, with the result that all major global companies have large U.S. operations and therefore cannot alienate the White House. It manages the world’s reserve currency, which means it can freeze adversaries out of the international payments system. On top of those structural advantages, Trump has created a cyclical one. Like President Ronald Reagan in the early 1980s, Trump has put other nations on the defensive with his irresponsible budget policy. Aggressive tax cuts and a ballooning deficit stimulate U.S. growth in the short term, insulating Americans from fallout from global trade tensions. At the same time, the stimulus forces the Federal Reserve to raise interest rates, which drives up the value of the dollar; as a result, foreigners with dollar debts get slammed twice over — by higher interest rates on the one hand, by the mismatch between flat local-currency earnings and expensive dollar repayments on the other. Given this lopsided playing field, trade confrontations between the United States and others have wildly asymmetric outcomes. Americans barely notice; Turks hit the wall. Indeed, for reasons that Trump might not find flattering, Turkey presents an extreme example of vulnerability. Like Trump, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan draws his support from conservative voters in his country’s heartland, who have long resented ungodly cosmopolitan elites. Like Trump, Erdogan believes in using the classic populist formula to power his economy: reckless borrowing, a hot real estate market, a willingness to risk inflation. And, also like Trump, Erdogan has elevated his inexperienced son-in-law to a high-level post, but he has gone one better by inflicting this nepotism on Turkey’s key economic ministry. The upshot is that Turkey has foreign-currency debt amounting to more than 50 percent of gross domestic product, a giddy real estate market, 16 percentinflation and no credibility with foreign investors. Even before Trump hit Turkey with sanctions, the economy was primed for a fall. Since Trump began raising the pressure this month, Turkey’s currency has declined by a bit more than 20 percent, bringing this year’s cumulative slide to about 40 percent and raising the specter of broader contagion. History suggests we should be worried: The strong dollar and high interest rates of the early Reagan period triggered a Mexican default that spread panic through Latin America; Thailand’s currency collapse in 1997 sparked a wider conflagration in East Asia, Russia and Brazil. The Russian collapse brought the panic to U.S. markets, triggering the implosion of a major hedge fund and driving the Fed to cut interest rates three times. Today, emerging markets are generally far better managed. Most have flexible exchange rates rather than unrealistic dollar pegs that snap under pressure. Most have fortified themselves by accumulating foreign-currency reserves. And most run more-or-less responsible budget policies. But the big vulnerability lies in dollar borrowing. The long period of extremely low U.S. interest rates following the 2008 financial crisis made cheap dollar-denominated loans irresistible. Yet few countries are as much in hock as Turkey. Among significant emerging economies, South Africa is the next-most-vulnerable, with foreign-currency debt approaching 50 percent of GDP. After that come Mexico and Argentina, with external debt ratios in the high 30s. Sure enough, all three countries have experienced market jitters in the past week. But if the fire spreads, it would be wrong to blame sanctions. The unsustainable borrowing began long before Trump’s election. At worst, Trump provided the match. The real worry about Trump’s trade wars is not so much that they will cause a financial crisis but rather that they will fail in political terms. It is easy for the United States to inflict economic pain on other countries; it is harder to make them change their behavior. Iran is suffering under the impact of Trump’s sanctions, but there are signs that President Hassan Rouhani will respond by drawing closer to the hard-line Revolutionary Guard Corps. China’s stock market is down by more than 15 percent this year, but the trade pressure might only redouble the regime’s determination to barge past the United States in strategic technologies. How will Trump’s sanctions on Turkey affect its actions? The jury is out, but Erdogan is making nice with Russia. Americans might not worry much about the fate of Turkey’s currency, but they should care about the solidity of NATO.
  • Turkey
    The West Must Face Reality in Turkey
    We are witnessing the gradual but steady demise of a relationship that is already an alliance in name only.
  • Turkey
    Trump Is the First President to Get Turkey Right
    Last Friday, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan published an op-ed in the New York Times outlining his country’s grievances toward the United States. The Turkish leader raised valid concerns about U.S. policy that genuinely vex Turkish leaders and citizens alike. Yet Erdogan only told half the story, leaving his readers to believe that Washington has victimized a reliable ally and partner. The United States has long had its own list of grievances, however—and it’s to the Trump administration’s credit that, unlike its predecessors, it finally seems to be doing something about it. U.S. grievances include Ankara’s plans to buy the S-400 advanced air-defense system from Russia; because Turkey will both operate the F-35, the newest high-tech jet in the American military inventory, and depend on Russia for maintenance and spare parts for the S-400, Moscow will be in a position to glean valuable intelligence on how to detect the plane. The Turks have also complicated the U.S. fight against the self-declared Islamic State, first by forcing the United States to negotiate for a year over the use of Incirlik Air Base, and then through their incursion into northern Syria, targeting Washington’s Kurdish allies. Against this backdrop, President Erdogan himself threatened U.S. troops in Syria. When it comes to Iran, Ankara has done everything possible to undermine U.S. policy, whether by negotiating a separate nuclear agreement or opposing and then helping Iran evade sanctions. Then there is the detention of Pastor Andrew Brunson in Turkey since October 2016. This has become a flashpoint between the two countries this summer, especially after Ankara seemed to renege on a deal for his release. But Turkey is also holding between 15 and 20 U.S.-Turkish dual citizens—including a NASA scientist—on trumped-up terrorism charges. Three Turkish employees of the U.S. Embassy have also been arrested. They are being used as bargaining chips to force the United States to hand over Fethullah Gulen, a green card holder who Ankara accuses of masterminding the failed July 2016 coup, and/or to secure the release of a Turkish banker convicted in a New York court of aiding the elaborate scheme to help Tehran get around multilateral sanctions. The sharp deterioration of relations between Washington and Ankara in the last week is only one of two crises enveloping Turkey at the moment. The Turkish lira is in a free fall as investors sell it off over concerns about economic mismanagement and uncertainty caused by the strain between the United States and Turkey. No doubt there are a lot of people in Washington busy developing three, five, and 10-point plans to save the Turkish economy and the U.S.-Turkey relationship. They are wasting their time; there is nothing for the United States to do. Of course, the United States has an interest in a healthy Turkish economy, if only to prevent the meltdown of the lira from affecting other emerging markets’ currencies. That threat is somewhat diminished right now because investors are on vacation, but August will soon become September. To head off a deepening of their economic woes next month, the Turks have to want to help themselves, and it is not at all clear that’s the case—or that Erdogan’s political interests will let them. The president’s son-in-law, Berat Albayrak, who also happens to be Turkey’s minister of finance and treasury, has unveiled a plan that is fairly responsible. According to Bloomberg, Albayrak plans to pursue fiscal discipline, help companies most affected by the lira’s slide, and, contrary to rumors, the government will not seize foreign exchange deposits—good news for foreign investors. At the same, the minister stated that the volatility of the lira was unsupported by the underlying economic data, thus it is clear Turkey is under “attack by the biggest player of the global financial system.” He means the United States. No one should be surprised by the accusation that the United States is responsible for Turkey’s currency crisis. Since at least 2013, Erdogan has been telling Turks that when the day of reckoning comes for the Turkish economy, it will be someone else’s fault. If Turks are suffering, then it could not possibly be the responsibility of a government led by someone who believes high interest rates cause inflation (which is exactly backward), but rather the result of the nefarious machinations of the “interest lobby,” Zionists, and the always useful “foreign forces.” Because Erdogan has made the economy a nationalist issue, seeking help from the IMF is politically risky. Instead, all of the Turkish president’s incentives are to do exactly what he has been doing: hang tough, blame Washington, appeal to God, and encourage his constituents to exchange dollars and euros into lira. So why should anyone believe Albayrak when he announces how he is going to rescue the lira? On the relationship with the United States, Erdogan’s declaration that Washington is waging “economic war” on Turkey reflects just how toxic relations between the two countries have become over the last five years. In certain offices at the State Department, Pentagon, and among a dwindling number of foreign-policy analysts who want to give Ankara the benefit of the doubt, there is much anxiety about the end of the “strategic relationship” and the need to save it. But why? It should be clear by now that there is no strategic relationship. Turkey and the United States have different interests and priorities. The lists of grievances on both sides reflects that fact. The fallout is not a function of the unique personalities and worldviews of the American and Turkish presidents, but rather at a fundamental level is the result of a changing world in which Washington and Ankara no longer share a common threat. No doubt the White House poured gas on a fire with the announcement of tariffs as the lira was sliding—a gratuitous move that smacks of Trumpian chest-thumping in anger over pastor Andrew Brunson that only helps Erdogan’s narrative that everything is Washington’s fault. Still, the pressure that the Trump administration has brought to bear on Turkey is a welcome change from the passivity of the last two administrations, which preferred to overlook Turkey’s malign policies, either in an effort to try cajole Ankara to support the United States or because they did not want to risk a rift with a “strategic partner.” Not only did this approach not work, but it also sent the message to Ankara that it was so valuable an ally that there would be no consequences for its actions. Applying pressure on Ankara may not work either, but the stakes are pretty low. Turkey’s importance to Washington has been waning for some time. The Turkish government is ambivalent about the Atlantic alliance, has found common cause with extremist groups, and stirred up trouble in the Gulf, Jerusalem, and the Red Sea. Even the value of Incirlik has diminished as the threat of the Islamic State has receded. Besides, with Ankara developing ties to Moscow it seems unlikely that the base will be as useful in the coming great-power competition as it was during the Cold War. What else is there? Not much. For the longest time, the legacy of the Cold War and the NATO alliance have framed the discussion of Turkey in Washington and Europe. Perhaps the controversy over Pastor Brunson and the way the Turkish government has responded to the lira crisis will be a clarifying moment, highlighting what should be clear by now: Turkey is no longer an ally or partner.
  • Turkey
    Strongmen Die, but Authoritarianism Is Forever
    This article first appeared here on ForeignPolicy.com on July 5, 2018 A few summers ago, a Turkish military officer stopped me to chat after a lecture I gave at a conference in Washington. During our conversation, he observed that Western analysts tend to exaggerate the importance of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, insisting that “He is just a man, but we [the armed forces] have been around for a long time and will still be here when he is gone.” The suggestion was that the military can wait out Erdogan — this was before the failed July 2016 coup — and when the Turkish leader does finally leave office, Turkey will revert to something resembling a pre-Justice and Development Party (AKP) status quo. This idea — that if Erdogan were to lose an election, retire, or die, Turkish politics would automatically change — is not limited to the officer I met. Any number of Turkish academics, journalists, and policymakers have expressed their belief that Turkey would return to a system that was democratic enough to inspire hope that one day Turkey could join the club of democracies. Their conviction has more to do with hope and faith than analytic judgment. Erdogan and his party have irrevocably altered Turkey; there is no going back. Turkey’s political trajectory is an exemplary case of a country permanently rolling back democratizing reforms, but it’s not the only one. Hungary’s Viktor Orban and Jaroslaw Kaczynski’s Law and Justice party in Poland are undermining the rule of law, democratic values, and human rights in the service of what they define as authenticity and security. These are developments that predate the migrant crisis that is buffeting Europe, though the large number of people from Africa and the Middle East seeking refuge in the European Union has made Orban’s and Kaczynski’s message more politically potent, and thus the undoing of democratic institutions and liberal values politically acceptable, for large numbers of Hungarians and Poles. Observers often describe the way these leaders — including Erdogan — have forged illiberal democracies, or in Turkey’s case, an elected autocracy, as demonstrations of power politics. But these pejoratives are meaningless outside the imprecisions of newspaper editorials. Orban, Kaczynski, and Erdogan have articulated a vision of the future of their societies that appeals to and makes sense for large numbers of people. The Hungarian and Polish leadership have done so basically in opposition to the liberal principles upon which the EU was built. In the Turkish case, the AKP’s program can best be summed up as piety, prosperity, and power. Voters in all three countries have justly rewarded these leaders. Yet for all their apparent success, the Turkish, Hungarian, and Polish leaders have opposition. Over the last 15 years, about half of Turkey’s electorate has consistently opposed the AKP and Erdogan. In 2016, Orban staged a referendum aimed at preventing migrants from entering Hungary. The proposed measure received 98 percent support of the people who voted, but in a political blow, it fell well short of the 50 percent voter turnout needed to become binding. In Poland, the Law and Justice party’s turn away from the West produced the Committee for the Defense of Democracy that has been able to bring large numbers of people into the streets at various times to protest Kaczynski’s worldview. But what’s important is how, in response to opposition, leaders in Turkey, Hungary, and Poland have established new institutions, manipulated existing ones, and hollowed out others to confront political challenges or to close off their possibility. Formal institutions come in the form of laws, rules, regulations, and decrees; their origins are found in political contestation and often reflect the interests of the winners in those conflicts. Informal institutions are uncodified, but that doesn’t mean they are less powerful than formal institutions. Sometimes these norms, which are based on the way things have long been done, are more powerful than written rules. The old boys’ network that has sustained elite, white, male privilege in the United States has often trumped legislative and administrative measures created to level the playing field for women and minorities. One of the best examples of institutional manipulation is the way in which Turkey’s AKP used its majority in the Grand National Assembly to whitewash a 2014 parliamentary investigation into corruption charges against four government ministers that threatened to ensnare Erdogan and his family. The process rendered the idea of parliamentary oversight essentially meaningless and gave the Turkish leader an opportunity to argue — credibly for his constituents — that the original allegations were an attempted coup. Since the corruption allegation, Erdogan has manipulated institutions to reverse the outcome of an election he did not like in 2015, tried his opponents in courts packed with his supporters, and debased Turkey’s electoral laws to ensure the passage of a referendum on constitutional amendments that would grant the presidency extraordinary powers. The AKP has used the legal system to jail journalists — most often on spurious terrorism-related charges — and force ownership changes in the media industry. These attacks on the press, along with the transformation of the state-owned broadcaster and state-run news service into an arm of the AKP, have crowded out independent newsgathering. In the recent elections, the state-owned Anadolu Agency called the presidential election for Erdogan well before the Supreme Electoral Council — made up of AKP appointees — could count the vast majority of ballot boxes. This prompted Erdogan to appear on television graciously accepting another presidential term, making it impossible for the election board to contradict Anadolu’s projection and thus rendering the board a mere prop in AKP’s electoral theater. The institutional manipulations and innovations during the AKP era that have been employed to serve Erdogan’s goals will endure after he is gone. This is because institutions tend to be sticky — they remain long after the moment when they are needed, often leveraged by a new cohort of politicians to advance their agendas. This does not imply that institutional change is impossible. It is just that revisions take place in the context of existing institutions and previous innovations. For example, the origins of Egypt’s current repressive laws concerning the press and civil society organizations can be traced back through any number of revisions to the 1950s and 1960s. In this way, authoritarianism tends to build on itself. It may eventually give out, but short of a revolution that undermines a mutually reinforcing political and social order, institutions will have a lasting impact on society. Despite all the apparent change in Egypt since early 2011, the country’s politics still revolve around a system that Gamal Abdel Nasser and the Free Officers founded in the 1950s. The data social scientists have generated indicate that transitions to democracy often fail: Some countries lose their democracy, and those that do only get it back in rare and very specific circumstances. France became democratic again after the defeat of the Vichy government and Nazi Germany. Hungary and Poland were supposed to be shining examples of transitions to democracy. Those countries may yet live up to democratic ideals that as EU members they ostensibly share with other democracies, but because of what Orban and Kaczynski have done, the path to that goal will be long and hard. As for Turkey, no doubt the military will outlast Erdogan, but it is unclear if it will outlast Erdoganism.
  • Turkey
    What Erdogan's Victory Means for Turkey, the Kurds, and Syria
    On Sunday, June 23, 2018, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan was re-elected to the Turkish presidency and secured a parliamentary victory. The Center for Preventive Action (CPA) interviewed CFR’s Senior Fellow for Middle East Studies Henri J. Barkey to discuss what this victory means for Turkish foreign policy in Syria and, domestically, what it means for Turkey’s Kurds.
  • Middle East and North Africa
    Turkish Presidential Elections with Henri Barkey and Steven Cook
    Podcast
    Henri Barkey, senior fellow for Middle East studies at CFR and former member of the State Department Policy Planning Staff, and Steven Cook, the Eni Enrico Mattei senior fellow for Middle East and Africa studies at CFR, join James Lindsay to discuss Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the result of Turkey’s recent election.
  • Turkey
    Turkey’s Elections: Partially Free, Fair, and Fake
    It should not be a surprise except to the most hopeful that Recep Tayyip Erdogan is once again president of Turkey and his Justice and Development Party (AKP) will enjoy an effective parliamentary majority with its partner, the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP). Erdogan supporters are rejoicing while his opposition, which many Turks believe was revitalized even in defeat, licks its wounds. It is an outcome that sounds familiar and was likely never in doubt. President Erdogan has worked hard over seven long years to get to this point; he can now put what Turks refer to as the “executive presidency” into action. As a result, he will enjoy significant new powers with little oversight, allowing Erdogan to pursue the transformation of Turkey into a powerful, prosperous, and pious society unencumbered. The extraordinary aspect of Turkey’s elections was obviously not the outcome, but rather the way it was conducted. The entire process was somewhere on the spectrum between free and unfree and fair and unfair, bewildering participants and observers alike. The confusion helped Erdogan win with a veneer of democratic legitimacy. It seems to be the perfect template for future elections in Turkey and other countries with populist and authoritarian leaders. When the polling stations closed and the ballots were counted, Erdogan won 52.5 percent of the vote, soundly defeating his closest competitor, Muharrem Ince of the Republican Peoples’ Party (CHP) who garnered 30.7 percent of the vote after a spirited campaign. In the parliamentary elections, the AKP lost 7 percent of its vote total from the controversial November 2015 election. Even though it can claim 42.5 percent electoral support, it lost its parliamentary majority. However, its partner, the MHP, won 11 percent of the vote, meaning that as long as the two parties stick together they will effectively control the parliament. The CHP won 22.6 percent of the vote while a new party called Iyi (Good) Party attracted 9.95 percent of Turkish voters. The Kurdish-based People’s Democratic Party (HDP) won the requisite minimum 11.7 percent to earn mandates in the Grand National Assembly. For Erdogan and the AKP there is no reason to question these results. Erdogan has a strong record of accomplishments and has remained popular; Ince drew huge crowds leading up to Sunday’s vote without interference from the government; the HDP, whose leader is in jail with most of the rest of the party’s senior officials, made it into parliament; and the AKP actually lost its parliamentary majority. This is all entirely accurate, but the opposition has many legitimate concerns about the government’s conduct prior to and during the elections. For example, like the 2017 constitutional referendum that paved the way for the executive presidency, Erdogan and the AKP dominated the media. According to Reuters, in May Erdogan enjoyed almost ten times as much airtime as Ince on TRT—Turkey’s state broadcaster. The Iyi Party’s presidential candidate, Meral Aksener, got a measly twelve minutes of airtime. These huge disparities are compounded by the fact that after fifteen long years of AKP rule most of Turkey’s privately held media outlets mindlessly recycle Erdogan talking point out of either ideological conviction or fear. Then there is the question of the MHP’s results. This is a party that split in 2017, that had become a wholly owned subsidiary of the AKP, that never held a campaign rally, and in only one poll did it come close to the 10 percent threshold to enter parliament, but it nevertheless garnered 11 percent of the vote. How did this happen? One line of analysis suggests that Iyi, which Aksener carved out of the MHP, drew votes away from CHP, not her former party. It is a plausible scenario, but the result is so at variance with almost every poll that it deserves scrutiny, especially since the implications of an AKP-MHP majority in parliament for Turkish politics are so important. Under the new system, if the president is a member of the party that controls the Grand National Assembly, his or her powers are largely unchecked. The alliance gives Erdogan and AKP that effective majority. Their supporters argue that the difference between the MHP’s results and its poll numbers is the result of unprofessional pollsters rather than manipulation. In fairness, Turkey’s polling agencies do not have a sterling record.     After the polling stations closed, the state run news service, Anadolu Agency, behaved less like a news organization than an arm of the AKP. Anadolu’s early projections of an Erdogan win with support in the mid-50 percent range seemed intended only to sow confusion at a moment when there was a cascade of exit polls that are notoriously inaccurate. Ince intimated as much when he declared that Anadolu was projecting results based on a relatively small number of returns from smaller cities and towns that were known AKP strongholds. The Supreme Election Council (YSK) is supposed to have the first and final word on results, yet Erdogan declared victory before it was finished counting ballots from what the opposition believed were vote rich districts in Ankara and Istanbul. It turns out that Anadolu’s projections and the CHP’s own vote tracker eventually converged, but the aggressive and early call of the presidential election raises serious questions whether it was employed to establish a fait accompli. Finally, there is the composition of the YSK, which is supposed to be an independent body, but its officials are all AKP appointees. It is the government’s prerogative to appoint to this agency whomever Turkey’s leaders would like. Yet given the way in which the AKP has politicized, manipulated, and hollowed out Turkey’s institutions, it seems unlikely that the YSK would defy Erdogan. Midway through the the 2017 constitutional referendum, its officials ruled that ballots without the required official seals would nevertheless be counted as valid, a decision that opponents believe lifted supporters of the executive presidency to victory. This is why Ince’s supporters were so fearful that once Anadolu declared Erdogan the victor, the YSK would just rubber stamp the result. Then again, there is no evidence that Erdogan’s victory is fraudulent. Sunday’s Turkish election is a perfect example of post-truth politics. There are two competing narratives that partisans on both sides believe in fiercely. They respond ferociously to any effort to question their particular truth even if there are good reasons to do so. The unfortunate result is more anger, greater polarization, further instability, and a deepening of authoritarianism. This is Turkey’s present, but it is the wave of the future.
  • Turkey
    Trump Backtracks on Family Separation and Crucial Presidential Election Held in Turkey
    Podcast
    Contentious OPEC meetings continue in Vienna, nationwide elections take place in Turkey, and outrage grows over the Trump administration’s family-separation policy.