British Foreign Secretary Philip Hammond’s April 2016 visit to Hong Kong
wasn’t unusual because he warned the Chinese government over human
rights infringements, or defended the territory’s long tradition of the
rule of law. Such is par for the course for British diplomats. What made
it unusual was that this was the first time a foreign secretary had
visited Hong Kong in five years.
Since Britain handed over Hong Kong
to China, the former colony has proven to be a thorn in the Anglo-Sino
relationship. While no longer sovereign over Hong Kong, the UK hoped
that institutions that made the territory such a success—a market
economy, freedom of speech and the rule of law—would continue under the
One Country, Two Systems regime. Consequently, the UK pledged to stand
up for Hong Kong’s liberties after it was returned to China. But ever
since China canceled or downgraded diplomatic meetings with British
officials in displeasure of David Cameron’s reception of the Dalai Lama
in 2012, the Prime Minister has been noticeably quiet where it concerns
Hong Kong, even in the face of the largest pro-democracy protests since
the 1997 handover and the recent disappearances of booksellers who had
printed material that criticized Beijing.
This comes as no accident.
Britain has refocused its relationship with China on trade, according
Chinese President Xi Jinping a state visit last year. Later, it
frustrated the United States by joining the Chinese-led Asian
Infrastructure Investment Bank.
While the UK might stick up for human
rights—as Hammond did on his visit—the message coming from London is
clear: when it comes down to it, trade trumps human rights and other
political concerns. China critics despair that for short and medium term
economic gains, London is kowtowing to Beijing.
Objectively, a shift
in British policy for trading purposes makes sense; however, when put
in context of Britain’s decidedly benign relationships with its other
former colonies, this shift seems less logical.
Britain has generally
pursued a post-colonial foreign policy that aims to bolster democratic
and liberal norms; even when it uses force, it often does so for
humanitarian reasons or to uphold the will of the international
community.
This approach is best reflected in Britain’s post-colonial
infrastructure, which is based more on soft rather than hard. The
Commonwealth champions democracy and human rights (as well as sports and
culture); Rhodes Scholars are often public relations triumphs; and the
"special” relationships with former settler colonies—the United States,
Canada, Australia and New Zealand—underpin global politics, culture and
commerce. Unlike countries like France, which has stayed militarily
involved in its former colonies to this day, Britain’s interventions in
its former colonies have been few and far between. For example, although
France has intervened in former African colonies dozens of times since
decolonization, Britain’s sole such intervention in sub-Saharan Africa
was in Sierra Leone.
While realpolitik certainly plays into British
foreign policy and its decisions to go to war, in recent decades, it has
been violations of international norms—like internationally-recognized
borders, human rights and democracy—that have prompted intervention. And
Britain has applied those ideas universally. The Blair Doctrine—itself a
form of historical legacy rooted in Britain’s sense of itself as a
historically important nation with a duty in the world—was applied to
ex-colonies and non-ex-colonies alike: by Prime Minister Tony Blair in
Kosovo, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, and Iraq (incorrectly, as it were); a
version of it has been applied by David Cameron in Libya, Syria and
Iraq.
That’s what makes Britain’s turn toward China and away from
Hong Kong puzzling. For the first time in decades, it seems the Treasury
is setting China policy, not the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.
And
it’s not just in China. Britain went from informally banning Narendra
Modi from the UK (it didn’t accord him diplomatic immunity as an
opposition leader and didn’t promise he wouldn’t be arrested in relation
to communal riots in 2012) to welcoming the Indian Prime Minister with a
state visit, shortly after the Chinese one in 2015, in order to boost
UK-Indian trade ties.
But these attitudes aren’t unprecedented. In
fact, such a trade-based foreign policy resembles a much older
historical legacy. Trade was the foundation upon which the Empire was
founded—Singapore, after all, was founded by the East India Trading
Company, and Hong Kong was itself won in a trade war. Today’s Asia
policy is, in a weird sense, Empire redux.
The difference is that
while trade was once the vanguard of British engagement, today, it is
its vestige. Britain, having lost its empire, hasn’t so much found one
role, but two, based in two different imperial legacies. It is now a
regional power, not a global one (albeit its ‘region’ is decidedly
large–and includes the Mediterranean, Levant, Europe, and much of
Africa). In those regions—which include Iraq, Syria, Libya, and
Afghanistan—it is mounting a full-throated defense of liberal norms. But
where it can’t project force, like in Asia, it has shifted to more
pragmatic, soft powered-based relationships, principally based on trade.
If
history is any guide, however, Britain will be unable to achieve its
goals in Asia by focusing on trade alone. The East India Company-ruled
India was absorbed into the Empire. Trade with China was established
only by naval flotilla, (multiple) Opium Wars and the Boxer Rebellion
intervention. Singapore and Hong Kong—both trading cities—were also
British naval bases. And of course, when the rising Japanese hegemon
disturbed order in the Asia-Pacific region, Britain had to defend its
territories (and trading prerogatives) during World War II.
Asia is a
very different place today. Britain is not about to use military force
there, nor should it. In an era of limited resources, it is wise to
refocus as a regional power; in any case, imperial ambitions are no
longer appropriate. But that doesn’t mean it should eschew Asian
geopolitics altogether. If there is one lesson Britain can learn from
its historic adventures, it’s that unsettled politics ultimately disrupt
trade, no matter how distinct the particular issues seem. Democratic
norms and a respect of human rights, after all, contribute to stability,
as does the fair settlement of multilateral issues like border
disputes. That Asia— especially China—is beset with challenges on all of
these fronts is a significant risk for any country seeking to do
business there and to develop a long-term economic relationship.
A
foreign policy that champions trade while remaining myopic on politics,
democracy and human rights doesn’t just contradict Britain’s
principles—it will ultimately be counterproductive to its commercial
ambitions.
Source:
thediplomat.com