Occupation

The Policies and Practices of Military Conquerors

Eric Carlton

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 1992
• Topic: History
• eBook ISBN:
  9781134931590
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

In this exploration of the nature of occupation, Eric Carlton concentrates on the complex relationship between military authority and civilian population and explores the methods used by dominant powers ot maintain their authority. Drawing from a wide range of case studies, including examinations of British colonial interests in India and the Nazi

1

Analyses of power

The policies and practices of occupation control are merely one aspect of the problem of social control generally. So here we are not just concerned with theories of control—important as these are—but also with the actualizations of control, and this really means examining the ways in which control is practically implemented. But before we see how this operates in particular societies, we must ask just how this implementation of control is possible. How can it be achieved? The short—and obvious—answer is that occupying forces must have the capacity to implement their policies. Theoretical political plans can only be operationalized through the medium of power. So it is therefore the nature and exercise of power that require some analysis.

The term power is variously defined. Theories and interpretations of power are more or less useful in their particular ways. So it might be helpful if we looked briefly at these to see how they can be related to the societies under discussion. The word ‘power’ is really an abstract noun with many ‘concrete’ applications. It used to be said that ‘the Greeks had a word for it’, and seeing as so many of our political ideas derive from the Greeks, it is worth noting that they had at least two words for power. The term exousia which is loosely translated as authority, and the more arresting term dunamis (from which is, of course, derived the word dynamite) which denotes the ability to change something—by force, if necessary. This is well exemplified by Mao Tse-tung who suggested that the most effective command grows out of the barrel of a gun. Perhaps, therefore, it would add definitional clarity to the discussion if we distinguished the terms and regarded authority as legitimized power.

Power has a variety of associations, from the might of armies to the energies driving machines to more intangible influences such as, say, modern advertising. We regard—perhaps with legitimate fear—the terrible potentialities inherent in the power of modern science, but so many of these fears can only be actualized by the state. It is states that set up institutionalized methods of utilization and control. They apply and exercise power. As far as we know there is no cosmic nemesis awaiting mankind; no Damoclean sword waiting to descend of its own volition. Barring unintended nuclear disaster, the sword will only fall when somebody deliberately wants it to. Power, therefore, for our present purposes is not an abstract commodity, it is rather the capacity to impose policies and practices, usually by institutionalized means. Power can be exercised as persuasion or manipulation, but essentially it implies the ability to change things—by force, or the threat of force, if necessary.

Among many sociologists and political theorists, a distinction is made between ‘constant-sum’ and ‘variable-sum’ approaches to power. ‘Constant-sum’ theories are normally associated with marxists who maintain that power is held by a particular section of society whose members try to ensure that it stays in their hands. This dominant group use their power to the detriment of others. Thus power is not primarily about agency or intentionality but about class relations. In this sense it is seen as ‘illegitimate’ as it derives not from social consensus but from the ownership of land and capital. This power is ‘explained’ by ideology—a distorted set of beliefs about the historical process and the social situation—and is mediated through education, the media, and other agencies of political socialization. Thus it is insidious yet acceptable, and is rarely seriously questioned by the majority of the population. The continued inequalities of capitalism are therefore seen to be perpetuated by the subtle promotion of the view that it is really in the interests of the proletariat to support the status quo, which means the power structure as it currently exists.

These arguments have a certain cogency. They are rather reminiscent of Mosca's contention (1939) that the history of mankind can be seen as a perpetual conflict between the tendency of certain traditional groups (‘the old forces’) to monopolize power, and the attempts of others (‘the insurgent new forces’) to dislocate the status quo and replace it with a new system. This really results in what the sociologist Pareto (1966) termed the circulation of elites. A political merry-go-round in which the more things change, the more they remain the same.

The ‘variable-sum’ or consensualist view of power maintains that there is no invariable concentration of power in the hands of the few—at least, not in the long term. Of course, coercive capacities are necessary and must be exercised from time to time as an important back-up in certain difficult social situations. But this power is merely increased and decreased in order to further desired goals; it can be varied in accordance with public commitments as in, say, the case of war. But it is admitted that the actual exercise of this power may lie with those who justify their actions in terms of birth (the aristoi 8 the best people), or merit, or simply the strength that comes from military superiority.

One of the main difficulties with the sociological approach to power is that it can lead to forms of theoretical reductionism. Every relationship, from sex relationships and familial relationships (especially of parents vis-à-vis their children) to teacher-pupil relationships and on to class and political relationships are seen in terms of power. Any careful analysis will show that in most, if not all these instances this kind of reductionism is a dangerous half-truth. On the other hand, this approach does have certain merits. There are undoubtedly situations where the power dimension is not fully recognized. For example, the current problems in South Africa which are usually attributed to racial factors are almost certainly much more to do with power and which factions are to hold it or maybe share it. Similarly in Northern Ireland; this ostensibly religious conflict is really about power, and it would be naïve to assume that if the British troops were ever to leave the province that the IRA would consider their work done. Who is going to rule is what it's really all about.

Another kind of approach is that associated with Kenneth Galbraith, in which he identifies three different kinds of power: (i) condign power, i.e. straightforward coercive power (ii) compensatory power i.e. inducive or persuasive power, the power to get others to do what you want them to do, and (iii) conditioned power i.e. manipulative power, a more blatant form of (ii) in which power is exerted in such a way as to make disapproval or refusal difficult. In effect, Galbraith is not really saying anything very new here. It is an exercise in nomenclature rather than analysis. The key issues and the main divisions are pretty much the same (Galbraith 1984).

The particular dimension of power that has perhaps not been suitably emphasized in this discussion so far is that of legitimacy. For the sociologist Max Weber, for example, the capacity for coercion is at the root of all power relations. This gives political—and certainly military—action its operational effectiveness, and this, in turn, is facilitated by belief in the legitimacy of the system. This can, of course, be called into question in particular cases. There are recognized instances where the system flourishes while its acts are expressly—if confidentially—deplored. For example, in the upper echelons of the German hierarchy during the Second World War, there was often less than fulsome support for the behind-the-line atrocities of the SS. Ulrich von Hassell, one-time German ambassador to Rome (1932–8) who was eventually executed in September 1944 after the abortive plot to assassinate Hitler, noted in his diary in August 1942,

very strained relations in the occupied territories, thanks to the evil Party administration…particularly…the bloody reign of terror [in places in Bohemia] where all the men are shot, the women deported and the children taken off to be compulsorily trained…the same thing has now happened in Norway. In France too…draconian measures are constantly taken. In Poland, terrible things continue; it is like a nightmare and makes one red with shame.

(Ulrich von Hassell 1948)

Perhaps one of the most generally useful models for the analysis of power has been put forward by Almond and Powell (1966). They direct their attention to the capacities of political systems to ensure that certain functions are fulfilled—a point which can be particularly well illustrated from the Nazi period in Germany, especially in relation to their occupational policies from 1938 to 1945.

First of all, they suggested that a state or system must have EXTRACTIVE capacities. The emphasis here is essentially quantitative. A system—the state or military authority—must be able to mobilize resources, recruit manpower and accumulate funds—whether voluntarily as taxes or involuntarily as tribute—and there may be a very fine line between the two. So much here depends upon the compliance of the subjects themselves and the willingness of subordinates through whom the policies are mediated. For instance, during the Second World War when the Nazis tried to induce their allies the Italians to co-operate in their anti-Jewish policies there was a marked reluctance to do so. All sorts of temporizing and prevarication took place which successfully denied the SS their full complement of victims. So no state or system can be completely immune to the needs and aspirations of all its subjects.

Second, the state or system must have REGULATIVE capacities. This is obvious and self-evident. No system can survive without stability, and stability requires controls which maintain order. This may be achieved by either formal (legal) or informal mechanisms which in their own ways ensure political and social coherence. The use of sanctions is the key element here. What kinds of sanctions? How are they used? When are they used? And with what frequency and intensity are they used? In Nazi Germany, this was facilitated by a leaven of Party members at every level of state organization, and by the ubiquitous presence of the SS—the state within a state—whose ideology was most notoriously expressed (as we shall see) in its racial purity programmes in the occupied territories from 1938 onwards.

Third, it is suggested that a state or system must have DISTRIBUTIVE capacities. This has marked economic implications, and concerns not only the distribution of goods and services, but also defines the allocation of statuses and rewards within the state or system. Thus again in Nazi Germany, as in so many autocratic systems, rewards and particularly statuses were predictably linked to one's position within the Party hierarchy, or related to ownership of those industries such as Krupps and I.G.Farben whose products were most closely linked with the interests of German expansionism.

Fourth—and, in some ways, most insidiously—a state or system must have SYMBOLIC capacities. Here we are thinking of something qualitative rather than quantitative in nature. Every system has to explain itself to itself, especially the—as yet—unconvinced or those who are still free to doubt at the margins. Just as important is its need to assure the world outside of its good intentions. On rare occasions even Nazi concentration camps were cosmeticized for pre-arranged visits by the Red Cross. In the early days of the regime it was important to create the right impression; it was regarded as essential that neutral observers should remain neutral.

Symbolic capabilities may be credible and persuasive, or they may appear as trivial and faintly ludicrous—as with some of the traditional rituals surrounding monarchies. On the other hand, particularly in more repressive systems, they are not without a hint of menace. Where power is monopolized in this way, it is usually found necessary to control the ‘symbolic flow’ from rulers to people. This may be accepted on the basis of believed autocratic charisma, connoting as it does impressions of infallibility and inspiration. And this, in turn, may be rationalized or justified in terms of certain absolutes, in the case of Nazi Germany the myth of racial superiority, and the special mission of both ruler and people. As Mosca (1939) once indicated, those who rule do not have to justify their power by its exclusive possession but try to find a moral and legal basis for it and represent it as a logical and necessary consequence of their doctrines and beliefs. In their own way, symbolic mechanisms validate the system and provide unanswerable legitimations for its policies and practices.

Lastly, a state or system should possess RESPONSIVE capacities, that is, the capability for eliciting enthusiastic support for the current regime. In Nazi Germany this was reinforced by social and military rituals such as the Nuremberg rallies which served to generate nationalistic fervour and anaesthetize critical judgement.

The discussion until now has concentrated on the uses of power in autocratic/totalitarian systems, and it may therefore have been supposed that there is something essentially different in the way power is exercised in totalitarian/autocratic systems from the way in which it is exercised in a democracy. This is quite a natural inference which sometimes serves to reinforce chauvinistic attitudes. But we must be careful here. The ‘truth’ in so far as we can ascertain it is much more complex than this—as some of our case studies will show.

Before that, however, some preliminary discussion is called for. As types, the autocracy (the rule of the one) and the oligarchy (the rule of the few) are both forms of elitist systems, and are usually contrasted with democracies (the rule of the people) which for convenience can be designated People's systems. Elitist systems can be equated with what has been called ‘the role of the conscious part’ in that society is likened to an organism—in this case, the body—comprising limbs, trunk and head. Thus the brain is the ‘conscious part’—the thinking, deliberative part of our being, and which, by analogy, represents the elite, those who alone are fit to command. All other members of society are required to endorse that com

mand and conduce to its requirements. As the political philosopher Thomas Hobbes once suggested that by surrendering our rights to rule ourselves to this man or that assembly, the multitude becomes a single person (Hobbes 1963). If, of course, this surrender is to an autocrat or an oligarchy, it means that they are entrusted with a right of command that can have—though rarely does have—no limits. Individual rights are given over to others in whom is vested the collective right. It is a view born of despair of the masses to make intelligent decisions for themselves.

This has interesting implications for modern Western societies in particular where they pride themselves on their political sophistication, and their ability to take a detached, educated view of the situation. Political activity implies the ability to make considered choices, but it is worth noting that where education is both intensively and extensively developed it does not necessarily lead to more enlightenment and therefore the capacity for more knowledgeable decision-making. Education is a two-edged sword, and can be an agent of reform and also a tool of repression.

Elitist systems are said to ensure greater social stability even if there are curbs on various kinds of political freedom. Hobbes conceded that the state of subjects who are exposed to the irregular passions of the man or men who own such unlimited authority may be one of great misery. The ruled not only have to endure the arbitrary potentialities endemic to such systems, they are also often faced with the actualities of unacceptable political repression. How can they ensure that those who rule will not only serve their own interests but also those of the ruled? And what guarantees can be given that this arbitrary power will not be transmitted to others—possibly heirs—without any due reference to those who must obey, or endure, the dictates of the rulers? This was the abiding problem with tyrannies. It is worth noting that in ancient Greece, tyrants, who were to be found in many city-states, were often men who seized power unconstitutionally, and were seldom able to perpetuate that authority through their sons. They were often rather charismatic figures who ruled by some degree of popular consent, but their sons were rarely able to command such respect, and therefore had to resort to repressive measures to secure the same degree of conformity. Needless to say, this was their undoing. As with the sons of the tyrant Pisistratus of Athens (sixth century BC); they were either ousted or assassinated. Greek tyrannies rarely lasted more than two generations.

Two advantages of an elitist system are, first, that when it is eventually overthrown or suspended, the late ruling elite can always be blamed for the ills that have befallen the society. Taking the Nazi situation once again: in the post-war period, it was common to find the ‘evil days’ blamed on the Nazi hierarchy alone—and especially on the SS. The ordinary people often disclaimed responsibility for the support and conduct of the war, and sometimes denied all knowledge of its worst excesses. Second, the disgrace of the late ruling elite can be used to justify the take-over of the new ruling elite, as happened in post-war East Germany. People hope that life is going to be different under the new regime, but in so many cases this is little more than a delusion.

Elitism, then—particularly in its more moderate forms—can be defended in special kinds of circumstances. Elites are frequently faced with the debris of failed democracies—a common factor in the ancient Greek states. They often set out with the very best intentions but their particular brands of political rationalization tend to ignore circumstantial complexities in favour of quick and radical solutions. Not uncommonly, therefore, they turn out to be little better than the systems they replace. Religious elitism too—especially in its institutionalized quasi-political guise—has often proved to be a considerable disappointment to those idealists whose designs are rarely matched by their actual programmes. One has only to glance at Cromwell's Long Parliament or, more recently, Iran's theocracy to see how contentious and fragile such systems can be. When metaphysical edicts have to be operationalized by mere mortals they are shown to be no real improvement on secular systems.

Whether some kind of cultural-cum-philosophical elitism would ever work is open to debate. This was Plato's solution—that philosophers should become kings, or kings philosophers. In a sense we may now be witnessing the realization of such ideas in the growing dominance of the scientific community. This is a new kind of cultural elite and not quite the thing Plato envisaged, but an elite nevertheless, and one whose ascendancy is unprecedented and generally accepted. Even the back-to-nature advocates do not normally disparage science per se, only—as they see it—the wrongful applications of science. Respect has increased with the scientific facility for improving the general lot of the ordinary citizen. It is, of course, vitiated by all sorts of disturbing anomalies (how we can put men on the moon and still not eradicate the common cold, let alone cancer, etc.), but whatever the reservations about science, it either does deliver the goods or is believed to be capable of delivering them in the not too distant future. How this new cultural elite will exercise its burgeoning power is anybody's guess. It could be an exciting yet frightening prospect; the past has shown that so-called disinterested scientists are not always noted for their keen moral sensibilities.

So much, then, for elitism. How, by comparison, have societies fared under People's systems? What has been their experience when subjected to the not too tender mercies of the General Will? Jean-Jacques Rousseau (d. 1778), said by some to be the father of revolutionary philosophy in France, argued that the General Will was righteous and tends always to the public advantage. Needless to say, in time he modified his opinion on this and probably would have aband...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Foreword
• Introduction: Ideology and control
• 1 Analyses of power
• 2 Assimilation: The expedient policies of the Roman Empire
• 3 Re-education: British colonialism in India
• 4 Culturation: The neo-colonialism of the United States in Latin America
• 5 Reconstitutionalization: The Macedonian Empire of Alexander the Great
• 6 Malintegration: Japan and the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere
• 7 Arbitrary repression: Mussolini and the Italian African Empire
• 8 Exploitation: The Spanish in Peru
• 9 Subjugation: Europeans and the indigenes of North America
• 10 Depredation: The Assyrians and population transfer
• 11 Selective control: Nazi non-Eastern occupation policies
• 12 Extermination: Nazi policies and practices in the ‘East’
• 13 Excursus: The Holocaust and the SS intelligentsia
• 14 Afterthoughts on models and morality
• Postscript: The Iraqi occupation of Kuwait
• Bibliography
• Index