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Cadet Anne Hsieh, U.S. Army
Proceedings, December 2004

There are unceasing opportunities for the United States to participate in humanitarian intervention operations—which it chose not to do in Rwanda in 1994. Confronted by women who were party to that genocide and seeking understanding, a West Point cadet proposes criteria for U.S. involvement.

I sat in the middle of a cramped, deteriorating apartment room in the poorest section of Durban, South Africa, talking away the cool afternoon with the four refugee women I had met earlier. They had invited me to spend the afternoon with them, curious about a female officer-to-be in the U.S. Army. I had spent a few hours listening to their heartbreaking stories about witnessing the deaths of their loved ones in Rwanda, Burundi, and the Congo, when Elisabeth’s question silenced the room.

Looking at me with innocent curiosity, she asked, “Anne, why does not the U.S. help our situation? There is so much bloodshed still. You are part of the most powerful army in the world. Can America do nothing?”

Her earnest plea echoed off the walls. Why did the United States do nothing during those horrific months of 1994 in Rwanda, and practically nothing still ten years later? Why did Solange, sitting across from me, have to lose 11 of her family members in the Rwandan genocides, not to mention the similar losses of the two ladies sitting next to me, Petronille and Annonciata, in their own countries’ civil conflicts?

After a moment of searching for an answer, I finally replied, “It is complicated.” Then, trying to shed as moral a light on the United States as possible, I explained—awkwardly, almost ashamedly—that involving ourselves in such situations did not always serve our national interests.

The end of the Cold War marked a fundamental change in U.S. security imperatives, as our focus shifted from deterring communist expansion to preventing the emergence of a new threat. A number of nation-states once held intact by the ideological standoff between the Eastern and Western blocs have since “gone bankrupt, and chaos exists.”[1] The result has been a significant rise in regional conflicts throughout the world. Although these deadly intrastate conflicts may not directly threaten U.S. national security, they have other serious costs worth considering. Humanitarian crises take a significant toll in unjustified deaths, produce both financial and ideological support for terrorist groups, keep countries mired in economic misery, and cause massive refugee movements. Such damaging consequences not only create moral challenges to the common Western argument that democracies protect and promote human rights, but threaten international security as well.

COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR Cadet Hseih poses with some of the Rwandan refugee women who looked to her for insight into U.S. decisions about humanitarian intervention. The women are dressed in traditional attire to perform dances at the Women's Day celebration in Durban.

The hegemonic role of the United States in international politics since the end of the Cold War further accentuates the moral and strategic relevance of humanitarian operations to our national security policy. G. John Ikenberry aptly describes our situation as the world’s sole superpower:

The world is left with a confusing combination of new norms, old institutions, unipolar power, uncertain leadership, and declining political authority within the international community. Meanwhile, the United States—the one country with both the greatest political assets and the greatest liabilities in the service of concerted international action—is caught in its own debates about its interests and obligations within the international order.[2]

In light of the goals of the 2002 U.S. National Security Policy, which asserts that the United States will champion aspirations for human dignity, work with others to defuse regional conflicts, and expand the circle of development by opening societies and building the infrastructure of democracy, it is evident that formulating policy regarding humanitarian and peace operations has become increasingly important to our national interest.[3]

Nevertheless, cases in which military intervention may be the only way to prevent human slaughter often do not concern, and may even oppose, the nation’s vital interests. Our dilemma arises when certain absolute moral imperatives call us to act anyway. For example, genocide should be recognized universally as immoral. However, U.S. foreign policy traditionally has followed realist “power politics” thinking, where national interests always overrule humanitarian ones. Hence, in Rwanda in 1994, the United States refrained from taking action when more than half a million people were slaughtered by primitive methods in only six weeks, and 15,700 cases of rape were reported (the actual figure may have been 250,000 to 500,000).[4] The extremity of the genocide in Rwanda not only serves as an example of universal moral injustice, but also shows how humanitarian crises are fraught with moral complications for other countries that have an ethical responsibility to intervene.

The United States no longer can ignore global moral imperatives. Those who have the capability have a moral obligation to intervene in certain cases, even when national interests are not at stake. At the same time, no nation should dive heedlessly into a humanitarian crisis simply because the perceived injustice is emotionally appalling. Leaders who act purely from emotion may risk straining the nation’s resources while neglecting their primary responsibility of serving the interests of the citizens.

Instead, we must approach each situation by carefully considering several factors. First, we must look closely at the need or problem at hand. Each crisis is different, and most humanitarian needs do not require full-fledged military interventions. In fact, we need to invest more in pursuing solutions that do not require military presence, such as diplomacy, funding, or other types of aid, until such measures are exhausted. Responding differently to various crises has been criticized as selective; however, such selectivity may be, in the words of Mark Evans, necessary and desirable:

Although it would be sound in theory if we could undertake interventions in all comparable cases, doing so is impossible in practice, even for the United States. We must scrutinize every humanitarian crisis before deciding what actions to take.

In examining each case, we must decide whether humanitarian interests override national interests. We should accept though, that governments act from a mixture of motives. As Kenneth Roth argues, “purely altruistic interventions are probably rare and should not be required. We should insist on military action guided foremost by a human rights rationale, not on an absence of other motivating factors.”[6]When motives of national interest come into conflict with the implementation of humanitarian and human rights objectives, we need to ensure the latter takes precedence if we are to use human rights rationale as justification for military action.

Next, we must consider our own capabilities. If a military intervention is necessary, are we capable of successfully carrying it out? What are the costs and commitments involved, and are we willing to pay? In Somalia, “nobody conditioned the American people to the prospect of losing troops on a humanitarian mission. When it happened the American people were outraged and wanted to pull them out. Assessing risks should be an integral part of the decision-making process.”[7] We need to enter every military operation with the expectation that our troops will be required to interact with noncombatants in situations involving humanitarian aid, peacekeeping, or state building, and moreover, work with civilian agencies in addressing such situations.

Finally, we must set clear objectives and prioritize them, tying them to a definite exit strategy. For example, the 2003 Iraqi intervention was initiated as a unilateral effort without clear objectives or an exit strategy; today, the Bush administration finds itself mired in reconstruction efforts and still without U.N. support as insurgent attacks against our troops increase. Policy makers must assert what we want to achieve before we enter a humanitarian or peace operation. Exit strategies should involve a transition from military to civilian control, such as through nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and local officials. Fundamentally, the military cannot and should not nation-build. However, according to Adam Roberts, “If the practice of the 1990s has proved anything it is that humanitarian assistance cannot realistically be considered in isolation from security.”[8] We must create a policy that enables the military to provide security and direct assistance to NGO work in peace operations, while allowing NGOs the ability to forge long-term relationships within divided societies.

Humanitarian interventions are inherently complex, on both moral and practical levels. Nevertheless, simply because there is no clear and simple way to approach the dilemma at hand does not mean we should abandon attempts at addressing humanitarian crises. Instead, we must realize that although there is no perfect solution, we should do our best in meeting both our national and moral-humanitarian obligations.

A man once asked Senator John McCain, “Why did my son have to die in Somalia?” Senator McCain used the question in an article to further his point that the United States should not involve itself in operations that do not directly affect our vital national interests. Although I understand why most Americans may not be willing to sacrifice their tax dollars, much less their sons and daughters, to save a few families in a remote African nation, I would propose an answer different from Senator McCain’s. I believe there is a certain necessity to intervene where our vital national interests are not involved, but we must go about it carefully and deliberately, recognizing the costs are high while doing our best to reduce our losses. However, if such interventions require the lives of my fellow soldiers, I can think of only one honest response to the families who must suffer these losses: If I am ordered to risk my life so that children like Elisabeth’s can live in Rwanda as dignified human beings, I cannot think of a more honorable cause for which to die. And if the nation I choose to serve is one that refuses to turn its head as people across the world are unjustly killed, I could not be more fortunate than to give my life for such a country.

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