Anne Applebaum: What have we learned from the Hungarian revolt of 1956?
... as the anniversary [of the Hungarian Revolt of 1956] moves into its second week, I'd like to ask what, if anything, we in the West have learned since 1956. As many have observed, the U.S. role in the Hungarian Revolution was hardly admirable. Although U.S. governments had spent much of the previous decade encouraging Hungary and other Soviet satellite states to rebel, no one was prepared for the real thing. As late as June 1956 a clueless CIA (sound familiar?) published an internal document declaring that "there really is no underground movement" in Hungary at all.
As a result, the initial U.S. reaction was confused, to be polite about it. The White House first dithered about whether to call a "day of prayer" or call on the Red Cross or get the United Nations to do something. Only after four days of street fighting did the U.S. secretary of state, John Foster Dulles -- who had spoken often of liberating the "captive nations" of Eastern Europe -- declare that the U.S. government did not consider the Hungarians "potential allies." The message was clear: The West would not intervene....
The Hungarians kept fighting even after Soviet tanks arrived, believing help was on the way. Hundreds died. And Western policy in the region suffered a setback from which it took nearly 40 years to recover.
Has anything really changed since then? Once again an American president speaks openly and no doubt sincerely about human rights and democracy in the Middle East and around the world. He's supported by Congress, the media and even whole fiefdoms of the State Department that dedicate themselves to democracy promotion. Nongovernmental organizations, sometimes with U.S. government funding, have emerged around the world to do the same. It would hardly be surprising, then, if a group of Arab democrats came to assume that America would support a rebellion in their country today.
And yet try to imagine what would happen if an imaginary group of pro-democracy Saudis staged a street rebellion in Riyadh. No one would be prepared. No one would have ever heard of any of the rebels before. Some in the administration, Congress and the media would hail the "new democrats," just as in 1956. Arab-language radio stations might broadcast messages of encouragement to the rebels, just as in 1956.
Meanwhile, others in the administration -- alarmed by the potential for a Middle Eastern war, worried about oil supplies, horrified by the unknown rebels -- would call for maintaining the status quo, just as in 1956. The White House would mutter something about humanitarian aid, call on the U.N. -- and wind up supporting the old regime, just as in 1956.
Scholars always bang on about the debate between "realism" and "idealism" in U.S. foreign policy, but the truth is that for most of the past century Americans have been simultaneously realistic and idealistic -- in favor of democratic change and deeply wedded to status quo stability -- much to the confusion of everyone else.
Read entire article at WSJ
As a result, the initial U.S. reaction was confused, to be polite about it. The White House first dithered about whether to call a "day of prayer" or call on the Red Cross or get the United Nations to do something. Only after four days of street fighting did the U.S. secretary of state, John Foster Dulles -- who had spoken often of liberating the "captive nations" of Eastern Europe -- declare that the U.S. government did not consider the Hungarians "potential allies." The message was clear: The West would not intervene....
The Hungarians kept fighting even after Soviet tanks arrived, believing help was on the way. Hundreds died. And Western policy in the region suffered a setback from which it took nearly 40 years to recover.
Has anything really changed since then? Once again an American president speaks openly and no doubt sincerely about human rights and democracy in the Middle East and around the world. He's supported by Congress, the media and even whole fiefdoms of the State Department that dedicate themselves to democracy promotion. Nongovernmental organizations, sometimes with U.S. government funding, have emerged around the world to do the same. It would hardly be surprising, then, if a group of Arab democrats came to assume that America would support a rebellion in their country today.
And yet try to imagine what would happen if an imaginary group of pro-democracy Saudis staged a street rebellion in Riyadh. No one would be prepared. No one would have ever heard of any of the rebels before. Some in the administration, Congress and the media would hail the "new democrats," just as in 1956. Arab-language radio stations might broadcast messages of encouragement to the rebels, just as in 1956.
Meanwhile, others in the administration -- alarmed by the potential for a Middle Eastern war, worried about oil supplies, horrified by the unknown rebels -- would call for maintaining the status quo, just as in 1956. The White House would mutter something about humanitarian aid, call on the U.N. -- and wind up supporting the old regime, just as in 1956.
Scholars always bang on about the debate between "realism" and "idealism" in U.S. foreign policy, but the truth is that for most of the past century Americans have been simultaneously realistic and idealistic -- in favor of democratic change and deeply wedded to status quo stability -- much to the confusion of everyone else.