Editor's Note : In this piece from South Asia Hand, Teresita Schaffer and her husband, Howard Schaffer, reflect on how India and Pakistan sometimes find it difficult to shift gears to solve problems, even when they would greatly benefit from doing so. The authors develop this theme more fully in their forthcoming book, "India at the Global High Table: The Quest for Regional Primacy and Strategic Autonomy." The book will be published by Brookings Institution Press this spring.

A deadly avalanche that killed ten Indian soldiers earlier this month on the disputed 20,000 foot high Siachen glacier in Kashmir received extensive coverage in the Indian and Pakistani media. The avalanche prompted some commentators in both countries to call for an early settlement of what seemed to them and to many others (including ourselves) a senseless dispute.

Their voices were largely drowned out in India by an outpouring of patriotic fervor that cast the dead soldiers as “Bravehearts” who had died for their country. The Indian Defense Minister publicly dismissed pleas that both sides pull back from the 47-mile long glacier where they have confronted one another since 1984. Possibilities for a settlement seem remote.

Siachen is one of several disputes between India and Pakistan that range in importance from the future status of Kashmir to the precise location of a small stretch of their international boundary near the Indian Ocean. The Siachen dispute arose because the Line of Control drawn between the contending armies in Kashmir terminates in the high Himalayas. India and Pakistan have different versions of where it should go from there as it makes its way toward the Chinese border. This made the glacier a no-man’s land.

Anticipating a Pakistani move in 1984 to seize Siachen, the Indian army struck first. Since then it has controlled most of the glacier, including the main range. Pakistan also deploys troops in the area. Published figures say that the two countries together maintain about 150 outposts. Published figures would put the numbers of troops somewhere around 1000-2000 for each side. These are small numbers for both armies, but there is a long and complicated logistical and support chain that goes with them. India’s formal reports to parliament put the numbers of soldiers killed from 1984 to date at just under 900; Pakistani losses are variously estimated at 1000-3000.

Some fighting took place in the earlier years, but a ceasefire was worked out in 2003 and remains in place. The real enemy is nature, in this high altitude freezing desert. There have been no deaths by enemy fire in recent years. At the post most recently struck by an avalanche, the oxygen is so thin that it cannot support fire for cooking. Over time, both sides learned to deal more effectively with the bitter cold and piercing winds. The mudslides and avalanches that have kept up a steady stream of death have been triggered both by climate change and by human activity that unsettled the packed snow on the glacier itself. The recent disaster was by no means the most deadly: in April 2012, 140 Pakistani soldiers were buried by another avalanche.

Sporadic efforts to resolve the dispute have included the idea of converting Siachen into an “international peace park.” Less idealistic approaches have focused on the demilitarization of the glacier, but only after both sides had reached an agreement delineating the areas they had occupied before withdrawing and pledging not to try to take them back. These efforts won some support within the government headed by Indian National Congress party leader Manmohan Singh in the 2000s. But they were stoutly opposed by the Indian Army, one of the few security issues on which the normally apolitical uniformed military has taken a public stand.

This was particularly evident in 2006, when India and Pakistan seemed to be coming close to an agreement on the issue. In a telegram later released by Wikileaks, the U.S. Embassy in New Delhi reported in May of that year that “Army Chief J.J. Singh appears on the front page of the Indian Express seemingly fortnightly to tell readers the Army cannot support a withdrawal from Siachen.” The embassy went on to note that “given India’s high degree of civilian control over the armed forces, it is improbable that Gen. Singh could repeatedly make such statements without Ministry of Defense civilians giving it at least tacit approval.” It concluded that “[w]hether or not this is the case, a Siachen deal is improbable while his – and the Army’s – opposition continues to circulate publicly.” After the most recent tragedy, LtGen D. S. Hooda, who heads the Northern Command of the Indian army, has maintained this position. He was quoted in a Kashmiri paper as saying that despite these tragic casualties, India must remain in its present positions. He specifically ruled out the mutual demilitarization suggested by Pakistan.

The Indian public has had ample opportunity to read about the terrible human cost of Siachen, but civilian public opinion is unlikely to force the issue. For Indians, the avalanche tragedy was heightened by the apparently miraculous survival of one of the soldiers, who was reportedly buried under twenty-five feet of snow for six days before being rescued. Medically evacuated to New Delhi, he was visited in the hospital by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and became an instant, highly publicized hero. His death a couple of days later made him a national martyr.

Siachen has been one of the issues discussed between India and Pakistan in the on-again, off-again dialogue they initiated in the late ‘90s. Plans to recommence these wide-ranging discussions in January were postponed following the attack on an Indian air base by Kashmiri dissidents whom the Indians were convinced had been directed from within Pakistan.

Progress on Siachen is unlikely when and if these talks actually begin. Although the Modi government was willing to exchange with Bangladesh a small number of enclaves along their border, abandoning territory in Kashmir would strike a much different nerve both in the ruling BJP, the army, and the country at large. (It would be easier for the Pakistanis to accept since their military, which calls the shots on these issues, could argue that Pakistan had got the better deal by forcing the Indians off the main glacier range.)

So the issue is likely to continue to perplex outsiders like ourselves. Retired Indian Army friends have told us how important Siachen is for Indian security. But we find it difficult to accept the assertion that Siachen is a potential invasion route. The difficulty both Pakistan and India have had sustaining small forces in that terrain would be magnified many-fold if one attempted a major military operation. By the same token, we wonder how important Siachen would be in India’s strategy against China. It has long struck us as a great waste of men and material which, were the two sides to act rationally, could be satisfactory resolved. Worse, the deaths suffered by both sides are only likely to increase as climate change increases the risk of avalanches and mudslides.

But Indians and Pakistanis are not the only people in the world who don’t always act rationally on emotionally-charged issues.

      

The videos showing an unruly scene in and around Brookings last Thursday during the visit of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan make for distressing viewing. The incongruity of what occurred—think Trump security meets Turkish nationalism—invites introspection about how scholarly institutions manage appearances by controversial leaders.

There are legitimate criticisms to be made of the Turkish government in general and of Thursday’s security detail in particular. But lost in the melee—and in the past year of terrorism, arrests, and media closures—is the message that Erdoğan most needed to convey.

Dramatic changes in the geopolitical neighborhood now present the most serious challenge to Turkish territorial integrity since the founding of the Republic. With the aid of Western intervention, the wars in Iraq and Syria accomplished more for the Kurdish cause than decades of terrorism and negotiation. Since the addition of a second stronghold in Syria to the de facto Kurdish territory in northern Iraq, Turkey is paying a price for conflicts not wholly of its own making.

It is not quite a century since European armies last seized Ottoman territories or supported national Kurdish independence from Istanbul. Whether or not now is the moment an autonomous Kurdish state takes legal form, the model is being proven nearby under Western protection. It does not make things easier that this time it is not Western countries’ intention to hurt Turkey’s national interests. Adding insult to Erdoğan’s injury, in 2015 the Kurdish cause met unprecedented support among urban elites around Turkey—and the United States and Europe—for a political party (HDP) that spoiled Erdoğan’s institutional ambitions by denying him a supermajority in parliament.

The Turkish president is criticized for allowing feelings of personal betrayal to color his strategic relationships—for example with Israel and Syria—yet many in the U.S. foreign policy community also now react to him emotionally. Because their high hopes were dashed after Gezi Park and the Gülen scandals, he can do no good again. This fuels Erdoğan’s outrage: Turkey gets no respect for its current role absorbing waves of refugees or for “taking the fight to terrorists.”

Erdoğan alienated Western allies with a take-no-prisoners approach in domestic politics and bears some responsibility for the government’s disastrous relationship with the country’s two major dissident groups—one ethnic (Kurdish) and one spiritual (Gülenist). But that should not relax similarly robust democratic expectations of these groups’ own political behavior, and the impression of such a double standard is at the root of the Turkish president’s annoyance. The suicide bombs and illegal wiretaps his country endured have failed to capture the American imagination. Instead, he perceives friends who would tie his hands as he defends the rule of law against terror and treason.

The Turkish government should be discouraged from abusing executive power, squelching dissent, or other acts of overzealous majoritarianism and break the cycle of retaliation against political opponents. But it is bizarre to equate the Turkish president with former Venezuelan leader Hugo Chavez or Russian President Vladimir Putin: Turkish democracy is battered but not yet sunk, and its government is still not a strategic opponent—it remains a NATO member in accession talks with the EU.

The Brookings incident is said to have exposed the regime’s true colors and thin skin, and to emblematize how polarized and undemocratic Turkey has become in the last decade. But a lopsided and illiberal democracy also preceded AKP rule: a quarter century of single party rule followed by four military coups in as many decades, with strict limits on free speech and religious exercise. American enthusiasm for democratization in the region must include a commitment to remain constructively engaged when the spring recoils and conservative parties win power—including those who appear to abuse that power—through exactly this kind of visit.

Because last week’s scene unfolded in the same auditorium where a younger Erdoğan appeared as a promising democratic leader years ago, it is fair to ask which was the real one. He who walked down the aisle with files on 57 imprisoned journalists in March 2016? Or the Erdoğan who arrived in government with dossiers on negotiations with PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan, opened talks with the Alevi religious minority, and established a ministry for European Union affairs?

Critics now say that was all just a show and diversionary tactic that have finally given way to his true attitudes towards the proverbial “tram of democracy.” But with friends who are deaf to some of Turkey’s legitimate concerns it is fair to ask what may now be an academic question: Is President Erdoğan an ex-liberal who simply got off the tram, or was he mugged by reality while on board?

      

As expected, on August 10, Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan from the Justice and Development Party (AKP) decisively won Turkey’s first directly-elected presidential election. He received just about 52 percent of the votes, falling somewhat short of the 55 percent that the polls were predicting.

At a time when Turkey’s neighborhood is in a state of chaos and the country is deeply polarized, what will his next steps as president be? Will he transform Turkey’s political system from a parliamentary to a presidential one? Will he be able to simultaneously run his party, control the prime minister and be the president of Turkey? Will he be able to overcome the authoritarian and abrasive politics of the last two years and replace it with politics reminiscent of the mid-2000s characterized by consensus building and liberal reforms? Or will it be a case of more of the same?

Traditionally, presidents were elected by members of the Turkish Parliament, and had limited powers. However, Erdoğan has been aspiring for a strong presidency since AKP won close to half of the votes at the national elections in June 2011. While serving as prime minister, Erdoğan attempted to write a new constitution, but resistance from opposition parties together with the May 2013 Gezi Park protests and the December 2013 corruption scandal prevented him from achieving his goal. Consequently, his fallback plan has been to emerge triumphant from the 2014 presidential elections,use the presidential powers in the current constitution to its full extent and aim to get AKP to emerge from the parliamentary elections scheduled for June 2015 with enough seats, enabling him to see to the adoption of a new constitution. This new constitution would transform Turkey’s parliamentary system into a presidential one and give Erdoğan the possibility to run the country until 2023, the Republic’s centenary.

Erdoğan’s Opponents: İhsanoğlu and Demirtaş

Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu and Selahattin Demirtaş were Erdoğan’s main opponents. Although neither constituted major challenges for Erdoğan, each represent something significant for Turkey. The left-leaning secularist Republican People’s Party (CHP) and right-wing Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) joined forces to support İhsanoğlu’s candidacy. İhsanoğlu, born and raised in Cairo, a prominent religious scholar, and a secretary-general of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation from 2004 to 2010, was seen as the best candidate to attract former AKP members, and votes from the wider conservative electorate. Though he lacked political experience and visibility in Turkey, he managed to receive more than 38 percent of the votes. This performance falls short of the 44 percent that CHP and MHP garnered at the local elections in March this year, but would still be considered as a respectable performance.

Demirtaş, a prominent figure amongst Turkey’s Kurdish minority population and a keen partner in government efforts to find a political solution to the Kurdish problem in Turkey, ran for presidency on a secular and somewhat leftist agenda, sensitive to the interests of especially minorities and women. He received almost 10 percent of the votes, one point short of most poll predictions, but almost twice the amount that his party, Peace and Democracy Party (BDP), received in March local elections. This suggests that Demirtaş received support not just from Kurdish, but also Turkish voters, a very significant development in terms of politics in Turkey.

How Has the Turkish Political System Worked in the Past?

With Erdoğan’s victory, Turkey is now at an important crossroad. Since World War II, Turkey has been a parliamentary system. The prime minister was the head of the executive branch of government and the president, elected by the parliament, held a ceremonial role. This changed after General Kenan Evren led the 1980 military coup d’état. In 1982, Evren introduced a new constitution that empowered the president with some executive powers intended to exert some control over civilian politicians. However, with the exception of Evren and his successor, Turgut Özal, subsequent presidents, Süleyman Demirel and Ahmet Necdet Sezer, refrained from using these constitutional powers in any conspicuous manner. So where did the notion of a directly-elected president come from?

The idea of a president elected directly by the electorate, rather than by the parliament, is an outcome of the military’s interference in politics in 2007. As the end of the staunchly secular and politically shy Sezer’s term approached, the military in a rather undemocratic manner, tried to prevent the then-Minister of Foreign Affairs, Abdullah Gül, from becoming president. The military and the judicial establishment deeply distrusted Gül’s, as well as the AKP’s, commitment to secularism. The government overcame the challenge by calling for an early snap election that AKP won handsomely, opening the way for Gül’s election as the new president. Furthermore, the electoral victory encouraged Erdoğan to hit back at the military by calling for a referendum on whether future presidents should be directly elected by the people or by the parliament. Erdoğan’s initiative received support from 58 percent of the electorate, thereby quite decisively demonstrating to his opponents the very extent of his popularity while allowing him to emphasize the “will of the people” as the basis of his understanding of democracy.

The Campaigns: Two Approaches to Turkey’s Future

The 2014 presidential campaign unfolded as a competition between two political approaches to the future of governance in Turkey. The first approach, represented by Erdoğan, calls for a narrow and majoritarian understanding of democracy based on the notion of the “will of the people” (milli irade) at the expense of constitutional checks and balances and separation of powers. In return for such an authoritarian form of governance, Erdoğan promises a prosperous Turkey that will grow to be the 10th largest economy by 2023 and become a major regional, if not global power. It is with this in mind that Erdoğan aspires for a powerful presidential system dominated by him alone. The second approach, especially pushed for by İhsanoğlu, advocates the maintenance of the existing parliamentary system and warns that a hybrid system where both the prime minister and the president is elected directly by the people, risks creating instability, tension and polarization within the country. He advocated for a president who would be above party politics and who would focus on protecting freedoms and the rule of law.

Does Erdoğan Have a Mandate?

What will Erdoğan do now? He is confident that he enjoys wide-spread popularity among the masses. However, it is difficult to conclude if the electorate went to the polls on Sunday with a referendum to change the political system in mind. If they did, then they did so with a rather slim margin. Nevertheless, it is likely that Erdoğan will interpret the results of the elections as an explicit approval of his political agenda, and will thus proceed to transform Turkey towards a presidential system. However, a number of challenges will be awaiting his project. The first and immediate challenge will emerge with respect to the next prime minister. As a prominent Turkish columnist put it, Erdoğan will want a prime minister who will always be “one step behind”. But will politics allow for this to occur? Can Erdoğan find a loyal and unquestioning prime minister? The current constitution requires the president to resign his/her political party affiliations. Once he takes up his position as president at the end of August, will he be able to continue to enjoy control over AKP from a distance? This is not a challenge to be taken lightly considering that there will be parliamentary elections in 2015 and the ranks of AKP will be quite restless both in terms of the selection of candidates, as well as the prospects of ensuring a victory at the polls. Lastly, with ISIS’s growing power, political instability in many neighboring countries, a troubled relationship with the European Union and the United States and continued bloodbath in Syria, keeping the Turkish economy on course may turn out to be Erdogan’s greatest challenge. The coming months are going to be critical in terms of whether Erdoğan will overcome these challenges and succeed in transforming Turkey’s political system. The outcome will illustrate if Erdoğan is actually bigger than Turkey or vice versa. However, whatever happens in the next few months, it will largely determine if in 2023, Turkey will celebrate its centenary as a liberal or illiberal democracy. In the meantime, the fact that Erdoğan plans to use a constitution that was drawn up under military tutelage to achieve his presidential ambitions is both ironic, but also not very promising in terms of Turkey’s democracy turning liberal.

Editor's Note: Ranu Nath, the Turkey Project intern in the Foreign Policy Program at Brookings, contributed to this piece.

       

The Brexit vote has stunned us. It has shaken us. It has forced upon us a set of dreadful questions none of us ever wished answers were required for:

• How do you disarticulate deeply integrated economies? How do you prevent the rancor of the U.K.'s divorce from the EU wreaking more havoc, not only in Europe but in the rest of the world? The divorce metaphor is apt here as it signals the treacherous waters ahead when the feeling of betrayal and the temptation of revenge may result in a misguided punitive approach to separation. Let's not forget that almost half of U.K.'s referendum voters chose "remain." Let's not forget that the youth in the U.K. overwhelmingly chose the EU for their future. EU leaders therefore face the ultimate test of leadership. In negotiating exit terms they must strengthen this constituency for internationalism. The U.K. needs committed internationalists. We all need them.
• How do you prevent rising nationalism from dialing back globalization? Is the "Great Convergence" at risk? In the past few decades, developing countries have emerged into the international trading system, and in opening their economies they have lifted millions from abject poverty. Will this future be off-limits to the next round of poor nations seeking to avail themselves of the opportunities of the international marketplace? Has globalization already peaked and are we to be the unlucky generation that lives through the tumultuous process of retrenchment? Are we to feel firsthand the dread that the generation of a century ago experienced when they all suffered from beggar-thy-neighbor policies?
• Are we next? Are the forces of economic nationalism and nativism that drove the referendum outcome in the U.K. unstoppable elsewhere? Will they decide the outcome of the American presidential election this fall? And if so, what happens to the international economic order?

These are still imponderable questions, but I would venture two answers: Brexit is not the final indictment of globalization, and our futures are not yet destined to be ruled by the politics of grievance.

The United States need not become the next domino to succumb to the harmful influence of populism. The parallels in the anti-globalization campaign on both sides of the Atlantic are of course unnerving:

• Anti-elitism: Fueled by the sense of economic disenfranchisement of older white voters who feel that a future of "splendid isolation" is possible.
• Nationalism: Driven by a desire to "take back" our country.
• Nativism: Spurred by strong anti-immigration feelings and rejection of a multicultural polity.

But the differences are also striking, especially when it comes to the issue of trade which commanded so much attention during both the Brexit campaign and the American presidential nomination debates. In reading the "Leave" campaign's statement on trade policy, you will not find:

• The rejection of trade deals for "killing jobs" with special blame placed on developing countries (aka China) for inflicting a mortal wound on manufacturing prowess;
• The promise to impose punitive tariffs on major trading partners even at the risk of initiating a trade war;
• The call for a boycott of firms that relocate part of their production overseas.

Brexit then is not an endorsement of the Trump brand of predatory protectionism.

Instead, what the Leave campaign offered on trade policy are heaps of wishful thinking and hidden truths. It sought to downplay the importance of the EU market to U.K. producers in order to justify setting its sights on other horizons. It promised to open up trade opportunities and job growth by negotiating trade deals with emerging economies such as China and India. And it confidently stated that trade links with the EU could be restored through a U.K.-EU trade deal that would mirror what countries like Norway have done. But this optimistic prognosis left out a lot. For starters, a future U.K.-EU free trade agreement will most likely yield pared-down benefits. Norway gained access to the single market by agreeing to free movement of labor that Brexiters vehemently reject. Moreover, the U.K. cannot chart its own course on trade policy until its separation from the EU is complete. Restructuring U.K.'s trading relations will take years and the results are hard to predict. But the costs of uncertainty are immediate as companies and investors will recalibrate their strategies without waiting for a protracted process of trade negotiations.

Brexiters struck a xenophobic note, but did not produce an overtly protectionist manifesto. Yet, their success at the ballot did deliver a major blow to economic internationalism. Trumpism is both xenophobic and protectionist, and were it to prevail in the November election, its negative impact on globalization will be vastly more profound. But the die has not been cast, and there are sound reasons to doubt a Trump victory.

If we are to prevail in overcoming the politics of grievance, we must first reckon that populism did not materialize from thin air. It is based on a fact: As globalization intensified during the past two decades, the middle classes in the industrialized world experienced stagnant incomes. The inward push is enabled by the manipulation of this fact: Offering trade as an easy scapegoat for a vastly more complex set of factors producing economic disparities (such as technological change and political decisions on taxation, education, and safety nets). And this populism is based on a false promise—that "taking control," i.e., taking our countries out of the existing trading regime will make those left behind better off. Its one unmistakable deliverable will be to make all of us worse off.

       

Federal departments and agencies received just above $133 billion in R&D funds in 2013. To put that figure in perspective, World Bank data for 2013 shows that, 130 countries had a GDP below that level; U.S. R&D is larger than the entire economy of 60 percent of all countries in the world.

The chart below shows how those funds are allocated among the most important federal departments and agencies in terms of R&D.

Those looking at these figures for the first time may be surprised to see that the Department of Defense takes about half of the pie. It should be noted however that not all federal R&D is destined to preserve U.S. military preeminence in the world. From non-defense research, 42 percent is destined to the much-needed research conducted by the National Institutes of Health, 17 percent to the research of the Department of Energy—owner of 17 celebrated national laboratories—16 percent for space exploration, and 8 percent for understanding the natural and social worlds at a fundamental level. The balance category is only lumped together for visual display not for its importance; it includes for instance the significant work of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and the National Institute of Standards and Technology.

Despite the impressive size of defense R&D, we hear little about it. While much of defense research and development is classified, in time, civilian applications find their way into mainstream commercial uses—the Internet and GPS emerged from research done at DARPA. Far more visible than defense R&D is biomedical research, clean energy research, or news about truly impressive discoveries either in distant galaxies or in the depths of our oceans.

What produces this asymmetry of visibility of federal R&D work?

In a recent Brookings paper, a colleague and I suggest that the answer lies in the prominence of R&D in the agencies’ accounting books. In short: How visible is R&D and how much the agency seeks to discuss it in public fora depends not on the relative importance, but on how large a portion of the agency’s budget is dedicated to R&D.

From a budget perspective, we identified two types of agencies performing R&D: those agencies whose main mission is to perform research and development, and those agencies that perform many functions in addition to R&D. For the former, the share of R&D in the discretionary budget is consistently high, while for the latter group, R&D is only a small part of their total budget (see the chart below). This distinction influences how agencies will argue for their R&D money, because they will make their case on the most important uses of their budget. If agencies have a low R&D share, they will keep it mixed with other functions and programs; for instance, research efforts will be justified only as supporting the main agency mission. In turn, agencies with a high R&D share must argue for their budgets highlighting the social outcomes of their work. These include three agencies whose primary mission is research (NASA, NSF, NIH), and a fourth (DoE) where research is a significant element of its mission.

There is little question that the four agencies with high R&D share produce greatly beneficial research for society. Their strategy of promoting their work publicly is not only smart budget politics but also civic and pedagogical in the sense of helping taxpayers understand that their tax dollars are well-spent. However, it is interesting to observe that other agencies may be producing research of equal social impact that flies under the public radar, mainly because those agencies prefer as a matter of good budget policy to keep a low profile for their R&D work.

One interesting conclusion for institutional design from this analysis is that promoting a research agency to the level of departments of government or its director to a cabinet rank position may bring prominence to its research, not because more and better research will necessarily get done but simply because that agency will seek public recognition for their work in order to justify its budget. Likewise, placing a research agency within a larger department may help conceal and protect their R&D funding; the politics of the department will focus on its main goals and R&D would recede to a concern of secondary interest in political battles.

In the Politics of Federal R&D we discuss in more detail the changing politics of budget and how R&D agencies can respond. The general strategies of concealment and self-promotion are likely to become more important for agencies to protect a steady growth of their research and development budgets.

Data sources: R&D data from the American Association for the Advancement of Sciences historical trends in Federal R&D. Total non-discretionary spending by federal agency from the Office of Management and Budget.