In his presidential campaign in 1928, Herbert Hoover promised to help impoverished farmers by increasing tariffs on agricultural products; after the election, he also asked Congress to reduce tariffs on industrial goods. In April 1929, well before Black Thursday, U.S. Representative Reed Smoot, a Republican from Utah, introduced a bill that passed the House in May. The bill increased agricultural and industrial tariffs at levels that had not been seen for a century. This was a relatively benign beginning of what would become one of the most tragic policy measures of the 1930s. Within a few months of the bill being passed in the Senate as the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act, other countries in response raised their own trade barriers, which started a vicious circle of contracting world trade flows and economic activity, and rising unemployment from 1930 to 1933.

There are three main lessons from the policies mentioned above: 

1. “Beggar-my-neighbor” policies are bad.
2. Bad policies can have tragic consequences.
3. Beware of benign measures that can ignite uncontrollable chain reactions.

Indeed, these lessons have been in every policymakers’ mind since the Lehmann Brothers failure. In fact, the creation of the G-20 was a spectacular effort by the major economies of the world to cooperatively answer the challenges raised by the most severe financial crisis since the 1930s. The G-20 coordinated the management of strong macroeconomic policies, including huge deficits and easy monetary policies. These were bold decisions but not radical, and those who condemned government intervention have been rebutted by the urgency of these measures. And it is now widely acknowledged that these unconventional measures successfully avoided the transformation of the Great Recession into another Great Depression.

In the U.S., the recovery is at best shaky, unemployment is artificially reduced by the growing number of discouraged workers who have stopped looking for work, and the median income is dramatically lagging.

Today, there are reasons of hope that have been eloquently described by Roger Altman [1]: it can be argued that in the U.S., and to a lesser degree in Europe, the crisis has inspired significant reforms that have pushed the economy closer to a sound and sustainable growth trajectory. However others rightfull so object that enormous challenges are still facing the populations and their respective governments. The price paid for curing the damages of the global financial crisis is extremely high everywhere. In the U.S., the recovery is at best shaky, unemployment is artificially reduced by the growing number of discouraged workers who have stopped looking for work, and the median income is dramatically lagging. In Europe, austerity is the name of the game in every country except Germany and despair is growing among the populace. Japan has been stuck for two decades in deflation. Many citizens around the world feel that the efforts have gone too far, yet the benefits and retribution have benefitted too few. Electoral frustrations are on the rise as demonstrated in Italy where Mario Monti’s wise policies have been followed by the success of the Five Stars Movement of Beppe Grillo. Italy turning ungovernable is a bad sign for democracies. Could we see a comeback of desperate national policy experiments like the ones that democracies were progressively pushed to adopt after facing insurmountable difficulties in the early 1930s?

Now, a really radical policy experiment is already taking shape in Japan with the introduction of what has been named “Abenomics” after the name of the newly-elected prime minister, Shinzo Abe. It has taken only one election and one nomination at the head of the Bank of Japan to really revolutionize monetary policy. This revolution can be qualified in two ways, one benign, one threatening.

There is first reason to rejoice. After two decades of failed policies, it’s finally good to see bold politicians ready to do whatever it takes to extract Japan from its deflationary trap. Should Mr. Abe succeed, he would unclench the domestic brakes to economic growth, which deflation has so lengthily opposed: declining prices in effect are discouraging consumption (goods will be better and cheaper tomorrow, why spend now?) and investment (facing massive excess capacity of production and weak final demand, why invest now?). The new mission of the governor of the Bank of Japan is to raise inflationary expectations to 2 percent, which would make Japan converge with the world average inflationary trend and monetary policy. Demand would restart and Japan would contribute to an improved global economic outlook. This is the view that the IMF chief recently endorsed. As expected, Mr. Kuroda last week unveiled a much more aggressive package of quantitative easing than what we have previously witnessed, with a view to double the monetary base. Japan’s central bank will buy more long-term government bonds, pushing private investors to invest more in risky assets. Since the election, the Nikkei has risen 34 percent. Different polls and surveys suggest that the public is positively reacting to Mr. Abe’s promises.

Is success already underway? That would be good news for Japan and for the world. But it is clearly too soon to celebrate because this virtuous circle can simply fail to happen. No central bank until now has ever tried to raise inflationary expectations and no one knows if this can turn to be a practical and manageable reality. Inflationary expectations could also easily turn out of control. Before exercising traction on the economy, they could impose higher interest rates that would have devastating consequences for the Japanese Treasury in the management of a huge public debt (more than twice the size of the GDP). But there is something worse than the risk of Abenomics having poor or adverse domestic consequences.

The other side of Abenomics is currency management, a much less propitious theme for a government to communicate in the weeks leading up to the IMF Spring Meetings in Washington. This aspect of the policy is not only bold, it’s actually radical. As a candidate, Mr. Abe made extremely clear that he was willing to help the manufacturing sector by depreciating the yen and that monetary policy would be designed with this goal in mind. Remember that Japan, despite all its woes, remains a formidable exporter with an external surplus close to ¥650 billion in February (approximately $6.5 billion). As my fellow economists at Brookings have recently shown [2], the Japanese bilateral surplus with the U.S., which is $23 billion according to reported trade statistics, would dramatically increase by 60 percent and reach $36 billion if measured in added-value terms. Mr. Abe’s message was well received by investors who quickly after the election started to short the yen. As a result, the yen has slumped 21.5 percent in the past five months— the worst (or the best?) performance among the currencies of the developed economies. Following last week’s announcement that the Bank of Japan was really acting to debase monetary policy, the yen weakened beyond 99 yen per dollar and dropped against 15 major currencies.

A weakening yen also poses challenges for China, complicating the China’s strategy to reach its 8 percent target growth for this year; it could also trigger huge capital flows into China destabilizing the delicate control of financial stability

This is where Mr. Abe and Mr. Smoot cross ways: both are local politicians inspired by the difficulties facing their countries; both are willing to use every available policy tool to soften these difficulties; neither is willing to shock the global economy, which has never been the case when arguing in favor of protectionism or competitive devaluations. But these measures are nonetheless radical because they have the potential to ignite uncontrollable chain reactions. South Korea for one already declared itself very concerned by this aggressive policy, which is totally understandable. For instance, when Toyota and Sony take some advantage of Abe’s policy, the ones that would likely be first to suffer are Hyundai and Samsung. South Korea has vital interests at stake and, over In the last five months, it has been struggling with a pernicious appreciation of its currency. A weakening yen also poses challenges for China, complicating the China’s strategy to reach its 8 percent target growth for this year; it could also trigger huge capital flows into China destabilizing the delicate control of financial stability; SAFE, the financial institution that manages China’s huge official reserves, last week published its yearly report for 2012. Commenting on the global environment, the report emphasized that “a yen’s depreciation can’t solve Japan’s structural problem, … [but] could turn out of control and trigger a suspicion about its sustainability,… and finally have dangerous spill-over-effects”[3]. Chinese officials at the Boao Forum also expressed similar concerns.

We still don’t know the end. Hope is that we could see the positive interpretation of a bold Japanese policy experiment contributing to a better functioning world economy. Experience should nonetheless make us cautious. What the movement by the Bank of Japan does is to increase an already huge excess liquidity, inundating global markets. In addition, the Japanese government has added a dangerous touch of currency manipulation. Both aspects should be alerts for the IMF rather than too quickly fuel the artificial satisfaction of promises regarding higher inflationary expectations and increased domestic demand. In the end, competitive devaluations always prove inefficient and dangerous because they inevitably provoke reactions and retaliations. “Currency wars” have made headlines from time to time in the recent years but these were skirmishes. This time it could be for real, and this should be a major concern for the United States. It is a great thing that Japan recently expressed interest in joining the Trans-Pacific Partnership, but these are words with long delayed potential results. A more constructive and immediate task is to continue the cooperative global approach of exchange rate policies and to strongly discourage any temptation of national radical policy experiments. This should be a central issue next week during the IMF Spring Meetings in Washington.

[1] Roger C. Altman: “The Fall and Rise of the West”, Foreign Affairs, January-February 2013

[2] Kemal Dervis, Joshua Meltzer and Karim Foda: “Value-Added Trade and its Implications for International Trade Policy”, Brookings Opinion, April 2, 2013

[3] http://www.safe.gov.cn/resources/image/076044004f1fb34a9da59ff675a23beb/1365377817854.pdf?MOD=AJPERES&name=2012年中国国际收支报告.pdf

• {9ABF977A-E4A6-41C8-B030-0FD655E07DBF}, 978-0-8157-2554-1, $28.00 Add to Cart

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By the end of May, citizens of Europe will have left the polling booths and a new European Parliament will have been directly elected for the eighth time in the institution’s history. Since the last elections were held in 2009 on the heels of the global financial crisis, the eurozone has developed stronger economic stability mechanisms, kept its membership intact, and even added additional members. Yet Europe also faces a resurgence of extreme nationalism, political fragmentation within nation-states, and frustration and protest driven by high rates of unemployment. There are very different visions for the future of Europe.

On June 3, the Global Economy and Development program at Brookings hosted a discussion on Europe’s future and what Europe’s election results mean for critical choices like the formation of the new European Commission, fiscal policies, U.S.-EU relations, TTIP negotiations and the future of the EU-United Kingdom relationship. Some of the issues that were addressed are also analyzed in Europe’s Crisis, Europe’s Future, a recently published book (Brookings Press, April 2014) co-edited by Kemal Derviș and Jacques Mistral.

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• The European Elections and the Future of Europe

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Introduction

Ninety years after the foundation of the Turkish Republic, Ankara appears to be on the verge of a paradigmatic change in its approach to the Kurdish question. It is too early to tell whether the current negotiations between Ankara and the Kurdish Workers’ Party (PKK) will manage to accommodate Kurdish cultural and political demands. Yet, for perhaps the first time in its history, the Turkish Republic seems willing to incorporate Kurds into the political system rather than militarily confront them. For decades, Turkey sought to assimilate its sizable Kurdish minority, about 15 million people, or around 20 percent of its total population. From the mid-1920s until the end of the Cold War, Ankara denied the ethnic existence of Kurds and their cultural rights. It took a three-decade-long PKK-led insurgency – which started in 1984 and caused a death toll of 40,000 – for the republic to start accepting the “Kurdish reality” and introduce cultural reforms. This perhaps explains why the PKK’s jailed leader Abdullah Öcalan is a national hero in the eyes of significant segments of Kurdish society.

Of the approximately 30 million Kurds in the Middle East, about half live in Turkey. Kurds also constitute a significant minority in neighboring Iraq, Iran and Syria. The Palestinians are often referred to as the most famous case of a “nation without a state” in the Middle East. But the Kurds, who outnumber the Palestinians by a factor of five, are by far the largest ethnic community in the region seeking national self-determination. The future of Turkey - and the Middle East - is therefore intimately linked to the question of Kurdish nationalism.

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For the first time in Turkey’s history, the electorate directly cast their votes for president earlier this week, overwhelmingly electing current Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to the position with 52 percent of the votes. After 12 years in power, Erdoğan’s victory was widely expected, even though the two main opposition parties chose Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu as their common candidate in a rare show of unity, and Selahattin Demirtaş the leader of the main Kurdish political party in Turkey, tried hard to appeal to an electoral base beyond just Kurds. The impact of the election’s results, however, remains to be seen.

How should the election results be interpreted? Will Erdoğan succeed in transforming Turkey from a parliamentary system to a presidential one? Who will he chose as prime minister? What will this outcome mean for Turkey’s economic performance and its foreign policy at a time when the neighborhood is sliding deeper into instability, if not chaos? What will happen to Turkey’s European vocation and its transatlantic relations?

On September 4, the Turkey Project of the Center on the United States and Europe at Brookings hosted a panel discussion to consider what President Erdoğan’s new mandate means for the nation, its government and institutions and the ruling Justice and Development Party. Kemal Kirisci, TÜSİAD senior fellow and Turkey project director, moderated the conversation. Panelists included Robert Wexler of the S. Daniel Abraham Center for Middle East Peace, Kadir Üstün of the SETA Foundation, and Brookings Nonresident Senior Fellow Ömer Taşpınar.

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When Süleyman Demirel died last week I asked myself why such a permanent giant of Turkish politics failed to change the country during his 40 years of active politics. Why is it that genuine political change in Turkey proved to be so elusive during the long decades of Demirel's public service? The answer has partly to do with the fact that Demirel was synonymous with the establishment. Establishment parties in Turkey have, time and again, proven unable to change the political system.

During most of the Cold War—and particularly during the 1980s and 1990s—Turkey had, for lack of a better word, a Kemalist consensus, and those outside the consensus, especially the Islamists and the Kurds were essentially excluded from politics.

The first wave of democratization in the post-Cold War era in Turkey came from the Islamists—specifically, from the Justice and Development Party (AKP). In 2002, when the AKP came to power, it decided that accession to the European Union should be its main goal and that that effort could serve as tool to undermine the political power of the Turkish military, which still lurked behind the scenes. So, incredibly, the AKP, an Islamist party, decided to bring about a post-Kemalist system by pushing for membership in the EU's essentially liberal, democratic project. This strategy explains why Turkish liberals supported the AKP and could hope that the Islamists would push the system in a liberal direction.

But then something tragic happened. The AKP became the establishment. After the military was essentially defeated as a political force, the AKP ceased to be an anti-establishment party. Rather, it became a party that started to use the privileges of power, and itself began its own networks of patronage clientelism, and became a victim of this entity called the state. The AKP became the state.

I think similar dynamics were at play in Demirel's political career. Demirel, too, started his career by challenging the establishment but ended up becoming one of the most permanent politicians identified with the state. His ability to change the system vanished the minute he became the system. The real puzzle is the failure of establishment political parties to challenge the system. It would have been wonderful for a center-right party or a center-left party to have taken Turkey to the post-Kemalist phase, to a post-military, pro-EU and progressive phase. But the mainstream political parties have failed. The establishment of Turkey has failed. The Kemalist order in Turkey has failed. And together with that order, Demirel failed.

There is reason to think that, in Turkey, only anti-establishment parties can actually improve the system. The old AKP was an anti-establishment party. Now we're in a situation where the second wave of democratization may also come from an anti-establishment party, this one mostly representing the Kurds. The most democratic, the most liberal, the most progressive narrative heard in Turkish politics today comes from Selahattin Demirtaş, co-leader of the pro-Kurdish Peoples' Democratic Party (HDP) -- not the main opposition Republican People's Party (CHP), not the far-right Nationalist Movement Party (MHP), and not the AKP.

What gives me hope about the HDP is that, even when it enters Parliament—and even if a miracle happens and it enters a coalition government—it will never become the state. By definition, the HDP is a Kurdish political party. The Islamists were able to become the state because Turkey is 99 percent Muslim and people could basically establish a sense of supremacy based on Muslim identity. The Kurds will never be able to represent the majority. They will never be able to become the state. They have vested and permanent interest in the rule of law—indeed their very survival depends on it. Their survival depends on minority rights and on checks and balances. This stark fact gives me hope about the HDP and its agenda.

This piece was originally published by Today's Zaman.

How to reconcile the approaches of Turkey and the United States over Syria? Both countries seek to depose President Assad while defeating ISIL, and also while reducing the terrible humanitarian plight of the Syrian people which has, among other effects, sent nearly two million refugees onto Turkish soil. But Ankara, wary of its own Kurdish population and particularly the militant PKK, which espouses violence in the pursuit of potential independence, is extremely reluctant to see Syrian Kurds armed and otherwise assisted by Washington. Alas, the Syrian Kurds, mostly aligned with the PKK, appear to be the only element of the so-called moderate opposition gaining any real traction, or showing any real military competence, within Syria. To lose the ability to work closely with them may, among other things, call into serious doubt Washington’s aspirations to help Syrian moderates mount a campaign against Raqqa, the capital of the region now controlled by ISIL. What a mess.

There are no easy answers here, but there may in fact be a plausible path forward—a strategy that, if Washington were to adopt it, could assuage many Turkish concerns and lead to gradual progress in the campaign to put real military pressure on both ISIL and the Assad regime.

The first element of the new strategy begins with a more realistic framing of the military goals of the international coalition opposing both Assad and ISIL. Washington must take the lead on this. The starting point is to begin with a vision for the future of Syria based on confederation.

Declaring such a goal could help reconcile, or at least “deconflict,” American and Turkish views on the conflict. By now, it must be clear that aspiring to a strong successor government to the Assad regime is to hope for a miracle. Even if such a government could be constructed on paper, what army is going to give it authority? The current Syrian army is too tainted by Assad’s barbarism; the various militias in the country are too fractured and weak; ISIL itself must be defeated, so its fighters cannot be part of any solution. One reason Turkey does not trust the United States now in the conflict is that Washington’s stated goals are so out of kilter with the means it is willing to devote to the effort. A confederal model for Syria, though still ambitious, could help reduce the chasm between ends and means, making the strategy more credible.

A weak central government, tying together various separate sectors of the country that are governed and protected by their own autonomous institutions, makes much more sense. Confederation doesn’t mean the partitioning of Syria. In fact, a confederal solution is probably the best way to avoid disintegration. Such a concept could, among its other virtues, provide an outlet for Assad (he could go into internal exile in the future Alawite sector of the country). It could cap any aspirations among Kurds for self-rule well short of the possible goal of independence—the latter being something that Ankara would find fundamentally unacceptable. It could also provide a viable path forward for Russia—as principal protector of the Alawite sector in a future peacekeeping mission, after an eventual negotiated settlement.

As for the specific matter of the Kurds, additional steps are needed. The PKK needs to commit not to employ violence against Turkey any longer—not now, not in the future. But it can be given a new role, for those of its fighters seeking to stand up for their own people in a responsible way: as part of the Kurdish opposition within Syria. The PKK can be allowed safe passage into northern Syria, where its fighters can join the PYD militia there. They can help take on ISIL in support of the campaign now being envisioned against Raqqa as well as other missions. In return for the PKK’s demilitarization in Turkish territories, Ankara should immediately restart negotiations with the organization and this time quickly deliver on its promises of reforms.

There is one more key piece to this: American special forces would need to deploy on the ground too, building further on the very modest but welcome decision to several dozen Americans into Northern Syria. The Kurdish zone in Syria is reasonably well-established, so the risks associated with this move are likely manageable. The special forces would help further recruit, train, equip and advise these fighters as they work with nearby Arab units to prepare the next steps in the war. In addition to strengthening the Kurdish forces, the Americans would help monitor the custodianship of any weapons that were delivered to these units to help ensure they were not taken back into Turkey. The American commitment would have to be open-ended, until the conflict could be brought to a reasonable settlement. But it would not be large.

None of this is easy or particularly appealing. But neither is any dimension of the Syrian war. Right now, it is a war we are collectively losing. We need a new path forward, and the starting point has to be one that Turkey and the United States can truly rally together behind.

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As Turkey prepares for highly-contested elections on November 1, concerns are growing about the country’s politics, economy, security, and foreign policy. Just a few years ago Turkey was recognized as a model of democracy and beacon of stability and economic growth in a challenging region. However, more recently, Turkey’s economy has lost its dynamism, its leaders’ commitment to democratic principles seems to be eroding, and doubts are emerging about the country’s interests and engagement in the region. Even more disturbing, as the conflicts in Syria and Iraq continue unabated and massive refugee flows spill over into Europe, violent Islamic extremism has now surfaced in Turkey. With the government and opposition trading accusations, the horrific, recent bombing attack in Ankara has further polarized an already deeply-divided and anxious country.

On November 2, the Center on the United States and Europe at Brookings will host a discussion on the Turkish elections. Panelists will discuss how recent events might influence voters what the election results might portend for Turkey’s strategic orientation. Panelists will include Ömer Taşpınar of the National War College and Brookings; Gönül Tol of the Middle East Institute; Kadir Üstün of the SETA Foundation; and Robert Wexler of S. Daniel Abraham Center for Middle East Peace. Brookings Turkey Project Director and TÜSİAD Senior Fellow Kemal Kirişci will moderate the discussion.

After the program, panelists will take questions from the audience.

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This weekend’s election results in Turkey were a surprise to the vast majority of Turkish pollsters and pundits, myself included. The ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) won nearly 50 percent of the popular vote. The party can now form a single-party government, even if it doesn’t have the supermajority necessary to remake the Turkish constitution. What happened?

As with much in life, the result does make sense in hindsight. Prior to the June 7 election, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the AKP leadership had supported a Kurdish peace process, in part in the hope of gaining Kurdish votes. In that election, however, not only did the AKP fail to win new Kurdish votes, but support for the Nationalist Action Party (MHP)—a far-right Turkish nationalist party—swelled, apparently out of frustration among nationalist Turks with the AKP-led peace process with the Kurds. In other words, the AKP had the worst of both worlds.

Erdoğan and the AKP leadership, recognizing the political problem this posed for them, allowed the peace process to collapse amid mounting instability driven by the Syrian civil war. This, combined with disillusionment with the MHP leadership due to their perceived unwillingness to form a coalition government, drove about two million MHP voters to the AKP this weekend. The exodus shows, in a sense, what close substitutes the two parties can be among a more nationalist voting bloc.

The controlled chaos that resulted from the collapse of the peace process—combined with the escalating refugee crisis, the fear of ISIS attacks, and the struggling economy—helped the government politically. Voters evidently recalled that it had been the AKP that brought the country out of the very tough times of the 1990s.  

In contrast, the opposition parties seem to lack leadership and appear to promise only internal squabbles and indecisiveness. Craving security and stability, voters have now turned to the one party that appears to have the strength to provide it. In that sense, Erdoğan’s nationalist gambit—which was actually a well-conceived series of political maneuvers—worked. Even some one million conservative Kurdish voters returned to the AKP.

These voters perhaps did not notice the irony that the government had also engineered the instability they feared. In part, this success derives from government’s control over the media. These elections may have been free, in the sense that Turkish voters can cast a ballot for the candidates they want. But they were not fair. The state maintained tight control over traditional and social media alike. Freedom House and the Committee to Protect Journalists, among others, have cast doubt on Turkey’s press freedom credentials. Real opposition voices are difficult for media publish or voters to see on television. Thus, for example, Selahattin Demirtaş, the leader of the pro-Kurdish Peoples' Democratic Party (HDP) and the most charismatic opposition politician in Turkey, had essentially no air time during the campaign.

There are some important upsides to the election results. For one, HDP again passed the 10 percent threshold to remain in parliament. That will help mitigate—though hardly erase—the polarization that grips the country, and will hopefully make government reconsider its abandonment of the Kurdish peace process.

More significantly, the AKP does not have what it needs to convert Turkey’s government structure into a presidential system, which would be a bad move for the country. The election results will undoubtedly revitalize Erdoğan’s push for a presidential regime in Turkey. But that requires changing the constitution, and the AKP did not achieve the supermajority that it would need to do that on its own.

Critically, changing to a presidential system will require some support from the opposition and even more importantly popular support via a referendum. As political strategists around the world have learned, people tend not to vote on the actual referendum item, per se, but based on more general opinions of their leadership. So to win a referendum on the presidential system, Erdoğan and his AKP colleagues would need to show improvements in the economy, in the security situation, on the Kurdish issue, on Syrian refugees, and on national stability more generally. Instability in Turkey, particularly the renewal of violence in the Kurdish region, will deter investment and deepen the economic slump throughout the country.

With its new majority, AKP leaders are now in a position of strength to negotiate with the HDP over Kurdish issues. The refugee crisis also means the government also has more leverage with the EU. If it chooses to use its strength to reach positive agreements on those fronts, the outcomes could be very good for the Turkish people.

To actually win a referendum on the presidential system, Erdoğan would have to work to depolarize his country. While the presidential system itself would not be good for Turkey, the process of getting there might be.