This piece is part of a series remembering the life, career, and legacy of Helmut (Hal) Sonnenfeldt — a member of the National Security Council, counselor at the Department of State, scholar at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS), and Brookings expert.
Sixty years ago this September as a first-year student at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS), I joined Hal Sonnenfeldt’s course on Soviet foreign policy. We scoured the Foreign Broadcast Information Service reports trying to make sense of the sterile, convoluted language of Soviet-speak. Hal’s writing assignments could have been comfortably handled in eight pages, but he accepted only two. Many years later, in my own teaching, I adopted Hal’s two-page paper drill; if looks could kill I would have been dead at the moment my students turned in their first papers. A painful assignment for sure. I’m not sure it occurred to us at the time that a fundamental underlying method in Hal’s approach was that to understand the Soviets, we had to listen to what they were saying and what they were not saying. Words counted heavily — theirs and, in our two-page papers, ours.
This was slightly less than two years after Sputnik and about a week since Nikita Khrushchev had concluded his spectacular visit to the United States and his Camp David meeting with President Dwight Eisenhower. The Soviet downing of an American U-2 spy plane and the exploded Paris four-power summit were several months away, construction of the Berlin Wall a little less than two years. Looking back, it was a perfect time to enter the world of Soviet foreign policy.
At that time, we and the Soviets were strongly committed to leadership of different international communities, including military alliances. Sino-Soviet differences were beginning to emerge, but in 1959, the Soviet Union appeared secure in its leadership, at least to most of us who were students. In this period of sharp zig-zags in our relations, we and the Soviets had not yet developed a systematic way of dealing with each other. That would come in the late 1960s and early ’70s, when Hal was a key member of Henry Kissinger’s National Security Council staff and when we opened negotiations with the Soviet Union on strategic nuclear arms, conventional forces in Europe, and principles of international relations in Europe. While the United States and the Soviet Union remained adversaries, we were able to establish structures that facilitated diplomacy on sensitive issues and that contributed to stability in our relations. That process, which yielded significant agreements, continued for over four decades, outlasting the existence of the Soviet Union itself.
And now, 60 years later? Would those of us in Hal’s 1959 class at SAIS find anything familiar? Well yes, a few things. For example, it’s hard not to notice a striking similarity in Russia’s strategy for annexing Crimea in 2014 with the Soviet approach to forcibly incorporating the Baltic Republics in 1940. (When you’ve got a playbook that works for you, why change it?) The cautious but forceful opportunism of Russia today would seem familiar. Distrust of the West? A visceral dislike of European integration? Antipathy towards NATO? Not so different today.
The arms control arena is a bit more complex. Perhaps someday China will join the trilateral arms talks that have been proposed, but at the moment it seems uninterested in doing so. There is a possibility that the U.S.-Russia arms control agreement New START will not be extended or succeeded soon by a different agreement. If New START lapses, we are in danger of losing not only the last remaining nuclear arms agreement with Russia, but possibly also lose the diplomatic framework for talks and negotiations. In some respects, this could transport us back to 1959, with each side free to pursue nuclear weapons without restraint and without a firm structure for addressing these issues.
What is truly different today is that the positions of the United States and Russia in the world have changed. Russia, considerably reduced in size and structure from the Soviet Union, is no longer the leader of an alliance or of a discernible international community. Whether the United States itself is committed to international leadership, generally, is now an open question. It appears that at this moment we have two heavily armed but somewhat unmoored powers facing each other squarely but not always certain how to define and carry out their relationship.
Sixty years ago we had a reasonably firm grasp of Soviet goals in the world. As Hal taught us to do, we listened carefully to what they said. Hal’s approach is now more important than ever, especially because Russia is necessarily going through a period of redefining itself. So, we must listen. Gone are the mind-numbing stock Marxist-Leninist phrases, replaced by more fluid language with overtones of imperial grandeur and not very well-defined “Eurasianism.” This, I think, makes Russia rather unpredictable. But, then, so are we.
President López Obrador's extension of the term of Supreme Court chief Arturo Zaldívar is part of his strong effort to recentralize power in the Mexican presidency and hollow out the independence and power of other Mexican institutions. His other moves to bend the justice system to his will include a reform that lowered the salary of judges but did not improve the quality of prosecutors and his unwillingness to allow an independent selection of the attorney general, with López Obrador himself retaining the power of appointment. His latest move with the two-year extension of Zaldívar’s term is especially worrisome. Zaldívar is also the president of the powerful Federal Judiciary Council. The council appoints and dismisses judges, sets career advancement rules and disciplines judges. Zaldívar will be setting the council’s and, thus, the whole judiciary’s, agenda and priorities for two years. This allows López Obrador to influence how courts will rule in cases regarding the executive branch, what cases they take up and the legality of new policies. These moves are taking place when the effectiveness of the judiciary in Mexico remains limited and deeply concerning. The attorney general’s office has proven weak, unwilling to take up key cases such as against the suspects in the brazen attack on Mexico City’s security minister, Omar García Harfuch—an event that symbolized the impunity with which Mexican criminal groups operate. Mexico’s justice system showed itself equally meek and disappointing in inadequately investigating the alleged complicity of former Mexican Defense Minister Salvador Cienfuegos and dismissing the case, potentially the most significant case of corruption and criminal collusion charges against a high-ranking Mexican official in two decades. A decade and a half after Mexico initiated its justice system reforms, 95 percent of federal cases still go unpunished. President López Obrador has scored some points, but the already precariously weak rule of law in Mexico, and thus the Mexican people, will suffer.