On March 5, Chinese President Xi Jinping spoke to the Shanghai delegates to the National People’s Congress (NPC) session in Beijing. China’s top leaders use these side meetings to convey policy guidance on a range of issues, and Xi used this particular one to offer his perspective on relations with Taiwan. There has been some nervousness in the wake of the January 16 elections, which swept the opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) to power in both the executive and legislative branches. Because the Beijing government has always suspected that the fundamental objective of the DPP is to permanently separate Taiwan from China, observers were waiting expectantly to hear what Xi would have to say about Taiwan.

Well before the March 5 speech, of course, Xi’s subordinates responsible for Taiwan policy had already laid out what Taiwan President-elect Tsai Ing-wen and her party would have to do to prevent cross-Strait relations from deteriorating, and they continued to emphasize those conditions after Xi’s speech. But analysts believed that Xi’s own formulation would be the clearest indicator of Beijing’s policy. He is, after all, China’s paramount leader, and his words carry a far greater weight than those of other Chinese officials.

This is what Xi said to the Shanghai NPC delegation about Taiwan [translation by the author, emphasis added]:

Compatriots on the two sides of the Strait are blood brothers who share a common destiny, and are people for whom blood is thicker than water…Our policy towards Taiwan is correct and consistent, and will not change because of a change in [who heads] the Taiwan authorities. We will insist upon the political foundation of the “1992 consensus,” and continue to advance cross-Strait relations and peaceful development…If the historical fact of the “1992 consensus” is recognized and if its core connotation is acknowledged, then the two sides of the Strait will have a common political basis and positive interaction [virtuous circle] can be preserved. We will steadily push forward cross-Strait dialogue and cooperation in various fields, deepen cross-Strait economic, social, and financial development, and increase the familial attachment and welfare of compatriots [on both sides], close their spiritual gap, and strengthen their recognition that they share a common destiny. We will resolutely contain the separatist path of any form of Taiwan independence, protect state sovereignty and territorial integrity, and absolutely not allow a repetition of the historical tragedy of national separation. This is the common wish and firm intention of all Chinese sons and daughters, and is also our solemn pledge and obligation to history and to the people. The fruits of cross-Strait relations and peaceful development require the common support of compatriots on the two sides; creating a common and happy future requires the common effort of compatriots on the two sides; and realizing the great revival of the Chinese nation requires that compatriots on the two sides join hands to work with one heart.

The italicized sentences are key: They state what the new DPP government should do if it wishes to maintain healthy cross-Strait relations and affirms Beijing’s resolve to oppose any behavior it doesn’t like. Xi didn’t threaten specific actions, but he probably didn’t have to. As always, Beijing reserves the right to decide what DPP attitudes and actions constitute separatism and a quest for Taiwan independence. 

Xi didn’t threaten specific actions, but he probably didn’t have to.

Some background

There are two important points of reference contextualizing this statement from Xi. 

Xi on November 7, 2015. First, there are his reported remarks on the future of cross-Strait relations during his unprecedented meeting with current Taiwan president Ma Ying-jeou in Singapore last November 7. At that time, Xi first appealed to ethnic solidarity and national unity, as he did again on March 5. He asserted that the stakes to end the state of division between Mainland China and Taiwan were very high because it was a critical part of how he views rejuvenating the Chinese nation—a theme he repeated to the Shanghai delegation. 

Xi said Taiwan, under the new government, could either continue to follow the path it has walked for the last seven-plus years under the current Ma Ying-jeou administration (“peaceful development”), or it could take the path of renewed “confrontation,” “separation,” and zero-sum hostility. If Taiwan wished to follow the first path, Xi insisted, its leaders must adhere to the 1992 consensus and oppose “Taiwan independence.” Without this “magic compass that calms the sea,” Xi warned, “the ship of peaceful development will meet with great waves and even suffer total loss.” He was willing to overlook the DPP’s past positions and actions, but only if it identified with “the core connotation of the 1992 consensus” (a reference to the PRC view that the Mainland and Taiwan are both within the territorial scope of China, a view the DPP contests). Xi alluded to the “core connotation” on March 5 but did not re-state its content. Xi then made clear that if “disaster” occurred, it would be the DPP’s fault—it was therefore up to Tsai, he implied, to accommodate to Beijing’s conditions. 

In language and tone, Xi’s Singapore statement was far more strident and alarmist than what he said on March 5. He made that first statement more than two months before the election, when perhaps he thought that tough talk would weaken Tsai’s and the DPP’s appeal to voters. If that was his objective, he failed. The tone of his March 5 remarks was more modulated, but the substance was the same. Beijing would define the crossroads that Taiwan faced, and it was up to Tsai to take the right path—at least what it defined the right path.

Beijing would define the crossroads that Taiwan faced, and it was up to Tsai to take the right path—at least what it defined the right path.

Tsai on January 21, 2016. Second, there is an interview that Tsai gave to Liberty Times (Tzu-yu Shih Pao) on January 21—less than a week after the elections—in which she sought to meet Beijing partway. For the first time, she used the phrase “political foundation” and said it had four elements: 

• “The first is that the SEF-ARATS discussions of 1992 are a historical fact and both sides had a common acknowledgment to set aside differences and seek common ground;” 
• “The second is the Republic of China’s current constitutional order.”
• “The third is the accumulated results of the more than 20 years of cross-strait negotiations, exchanges, and interactions;” and
• “The fourth is Taiwan’s democratic principles and the will of the Taiwanese people to make sure that Taiwan voters understood the limits to his tolerance.”

So, Tsai accepts the 1992 meetings as a historical fact and acknowledges that the two sides did reach an agreement of sorts, but does not accept the 1992 consensus itself as a historical fact. She spoke more about process than content. The Republic of China’s “current constitutional order” is also part of the foundation, which some have read as Tsai’s acceptance that the Mainland and Taiwan are both parts of China’s territory (Beijing’s “core connotation”)—I, however, am not so sure. Tsai did not reject Xi’s requirements out of hand, but she framed them in her own way. 

So are ties growing friendlier?

Was Xi’s tonal moderation on March 5—relative to November 7—an indicator that mutual accommodation was going on? Perhaps. But the fact that the November meeting was ostensibly private while the March speech was public might explain the difference. 

Moreover, the stream of Chinese articles and statements since March 5 that explicitly restate Beijing’s long-standing preconditions are reason to doubt that much accommodation is actually occurring. The three basic scenarios I outlined last December—accommodation, limited Chinese punishment of the Tsai administration, and comprehensive punishment—are still in play, and the key variable remains whether Xi and his subordinates trust Tsai Ing-wen’s basic intentions. That is, will they accept her recent formulations as a good-faith effort to avoid deterioration? The next milestone will be May 20, when Tsai Ing-wen gives her inaugural address and may provide a more detailed formulation of her approach to China.

The most noticeable trend under the leadership of Xi Jinping since the 2012 National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has been the continuing consolidation of power. In particular, the military has been a key forum in which Xi has strengthened both his personal power and his new administration’s authority. Xi has adopted several approaches and political tactics to achieve this, including purging the two highest-ranking generals under the previous administration for corruption and other charges; arresting 52 senior military officers on various charges of wrongdoing; reshuffling generals between regions, departments, and services; attempting to systematically reform the PLA’s structure and operations; and, last but not least, rapidly promoting “young guards” (少壮派) in the Chinese military.

These bold moves will have profound implications—not only for Xi’s political standing in the lead-up to the next leadership turnover in 2017, but also for the development of civilian-military relations in the country and for the trajectory of China’s military modernization. The third installment in this series focuses on personnel changes that have occurred during the early phase of military reform.

Who are the rising stars in the PLA following the recent reorganization and reshuffling? What are the distinguishing characteristics of the “young guards”? What are possible explanations for and implications of some of the highest-level personnel changes, such as the retirement of the heavyweight military figure General Liu Yuan and the marginalization of Xi’s confidant General Cai Yingting? How does Xi successfully perform the delicate balancing act in personnel appointments by aggressively promoting his own long-time protégés and new loyalists while avoiding making too many enemies?

This is part three of a series that will appear in the upcoming issue of the China Leadership Monitor. Download the article in full below. The first paper in the series can be found here: Promoting "young guards": The recent high turnover in the PLA leadership (Part 1: Purges and reshuffles), and the second paper here: Promoting “young guards”: The recent high turnover in the PLA leadership (Part II: Expansion and escalation).

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• Promoting "Young Guards": The Recent High Turnover in the PLA Leadership (Part III: Personal and Political)

For years China has been known as a destination for foreign direct invest- ment, as multinationals flocked there to build export platforms and take advantage of its fast-growing market. Now, however, it is China’s outbound foreign direct investment (OFDI) that is shaping the world. In the first quarter of 2015, China claimed its largest-ever share of global mergers and acquisitions (M&A), with mainland companies’ takeovers of foreign firms amounting to US$101bn, or 15% of the US$682bn of announced global deals. In three months, China recorded more outbound investment transac- tions than in the whole of 2015, when US$109bn in deals were announced.

These figures probably overstate the true level of capital flows, since some announced deals inevitably fail to reach fruition. But whatever the levels, it is clear that China’s outbound investment is rapidly growing, and that its share of global direct investment flows is among the largest of any country.

The rise in China’s direct investment in Europe is especially striking. According to a recent report by law firm Baker & McKenzie and consultancy Rhodium Group, the total stock of Chinese investment in Europe increased almost ten-fold from US$6bn in 2010 to US$55bn in 2014. In 2015 alone, Chinese OFDI in Europe increased by 44 percent (with deals such as Italian tire manufacturer Pirelli’s US$7.7bn takeover by ChemChina). Total flow of US$23bn exceeded China’s investments in the US, which were US$17bn in the same year. This year could see an even more dramatic jump, if ChemChina’s pro- posed US$46bn takeover of Swiss agro-technology firm Syngenta is approved by regulators.

There are two main reasons why Chinese investors favor Europe over the US. First, the issue of Chinese direct investment is less politicized in Europe. A handful of high-profile Chinese investments in the US have been blocked for political reasons, and the national security review process of the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States poses an obstacle for some types of acquisitions, especially by Chinese state-owned enterprises (SOEs). Europe lacks a similar review process, and this perhaps explains why SOEs represent nearly 70% of Chinese OFDI in Europe, but less than half in the US. Second, Europe’s ongoing economic and financial difficulties since the global financial crisis of 2008 mean there has been a hunger for Chinese cash to finance infrastructure or bail out debt-ridden firms.The flows are impressive, but it is important to remember that on a stock basis, China’s aggregate investment in Europe is still fairly modest. By the end of 2014, China’s cumulative OFDI represented only 3-4% of all FDI in Europe, and the pool of workers directly affected by Chinese FDI was a mere 2% of the number of Europeans working in American-owned firms in Europe. The rising trend of Chinese investment, however, raises some interesting economic and political questions for European leaders.

Moving up the value chain…

What motives, aside from the sheer availability of cash, are driving this enormous wave of Chinese outward investment? A review of China’s OFDI in Europe over the past decade points to five distinct strategies. Some of these are similar to the strategies seen in earlier waves of cross-border investment by Western, Japanese and South Korean companies; others seem to be more China-specific. They also display widely divergent reliance on political leverage—with SOE investments, unsurprisingly, being the most politically driven.

Authors research

The first strategy is driven by a desire to move from cheap products to more sophisticated ones. An exemplar is Haier, the world’s largest white goods manufacturer. Haier’s development closely tracks that of Japanese and South Korean consumer appliance makers: it first concentrated on making cheap copies of established products, for sale in the Chinese market. It gradually moved up to more sophisticated and innovate products and services and began to export more aggressively.

Haier came to cross-border M&A relatively late, and has used it main- ly to scale up its core “made-in-China” portfolio and accelerate its move up the value chain. Its first acquisitions came in 2012, when it bought a part of Sanyo’s Asian operations and New Zealand’s Fisher & Paykel. After a failed effort to acquire bankrupt European white-goods firm FagorBrandt in 2014, it bought GE’s consumer appliances business for US$5.4bn in January 2016. Political backing for Haier’s overseas expansion has been limited, probably because of the low political importance of the white goods sector.

A second strategy, exemplified by telecoms equipment maker Huawei Technologies, is a straightforward effort to raise margins by diversifying out of the low-margin Chinese market into higher-margin foreign ones. Huawei has derived more than half its sales from abroad for over a decade, and has gradually increased its presence in European markets, in part through loose alliances with major clients such as BT, Orange, Deutsche Telekom, and Telefónica. It has also moved quickly into the device sector. From tablets to smartphones and 3G keys, its products are now spreading across Europe, as are its greenfield investments in European R&D centers. Its efforts to expand through M&A have been hampered by its image as an arm of the Chinese state—although privately owned, it has benefited from huge lines of credit from Chinese policy banks, and has never put to rest rumors of close ties with the People’s Liberation Army.

…and acquiring technology

The third model essentially involves technology acquisition that enables a Chinese firm both to bolster its position at home and create strategic opportunities abroad. Notable examples include personal computer maker Lenovo (which bought IBM’s PC division), carmaker Geely (which acquired Volvo’s passenger-car unit), and more recently ChemChina (with its purchases of Pirelli and Syngenta). The technology-acquisition strategy is much more characteristic of Chinese firms than of Japanese or South Korean companies, which mainly preferred to build up their technological know-how internally, or through licensing arrangements. Even though many of the Chinese acquirers in these deals are private, they are often able to mobilize enormous state support in the form of generous and low-cost financing.

The fourth internationalization model is characteristic of the hospi- tality industry and is one we dub (perhaps controversially) “Orientalist.” Essentially this involves the acquisition of established high-end hotel and leisure brands, with the ultimate aim of reorienting them to cater to a growing Asian—and especially Chinese—clientele. Examples include Shanghai-based Jinjiang International’s recent purchase of the Louvre Hotels group and of 11.7% of Accor’s hotel business. Hong Kong hotel chains Shangri-La, Mandarin and Peninsula have focused their expansion over the past three years in Europe, buying high-end assets in Paris and London. Dalian Wanda, a conglomerate with interests in real estate, retail and cinemas has plans for a series of major mixed-use projects in the UK and France. Like many such projects in China, these are designed to offer a combination of commercial, residential, shopping and recreational facilities. These culturally-oriented acquirers have also benefited from generous financing from China’s state-owned banks.

Heritage Foundation, media reports

The final strategy is a “national champions” model, under which big SOEs use political and financial support from the government to make acquisitions that they hope will vault them into positions of global market leadership. A noteworthy recent example in Europe Dongfeng Motor’s purchase of 14% of PSA, the parent company of Peugeot.

The wave of Chinese investment creates several challenges for European companies and policymakers. For firms, the sudden appearance of hungry and well-financed Chinese acquirers has prompted incumbent multinationals to step up their own M&A efforts, in order to maintain their market dominance. Moves into the European market by China’s leading construction equipment firms, Zoomlion and Sany, most likely prompted the purchase of Finnish crane company Konecranes by its American rival Terex. Similarly, ChemChina’s unexpected bid for Syngenta has caused disquiet among European chemical firms, and probably motivated Bayer’s subsequent bid to take over Monsanto.

In the policy arena, two issues stand out. The narrower one relates to reciprocity: Chinese firms are pretty much free to buy companies in any sector in Europe, without restriction; foreign firms by contrast are barred from investment or majority control in a host of sectors in China, including banking, insurance, telecom, media, logistics, construction, and healthcare. One potential solution is to include reciprocity provisions in the EU-China bilateral investment treaty now under negotiation.

The broader question for Europe is whether some broader geopoliti- cal strategy lies behind China’s outward investment surge, and if so what to do about it. There can be little doubt that in recent years China has increased its political leverage in Europe, and has done so via a “divide and rule” approach of dealing as little as possible with the EU as a whole and as much as possible with individual states. Another tactic has been to create new multilateral forums in configurations favorable to China, the most prominent example being the “16+1,” which consists of 16 central and eastern European nations plus China. Beijing has tried—so far with- out success—to develop similar forums with the Nordic and Southern European countries.

Anxiety along the Belt and Road

A related issue is to what extent Europe should welcome Chinese investment that comes in the form of infrastructure spending. Part of China’s “Belt and Road Initiative” is about increasing connectivity between China and Europe, and this comes with clear financial benefits: China has pledged, for instance, to contribute to the European Commission’s European Strategic Infrastructure Fund; and Chinese-led logistics platforms such as Athens’ Piraeus Port are proliferating. 

But with increased connectivity comes an increased flow of Chinese goods—and especially a flood of low-priced products from China’s excess capacity industries such as steel and building materials. In response to the apparent dumping of Chinese industrial goods in Europe, the European Parliament on May 12 adopted a non-binding but pointed resolution asking the European Commission to reject China’s claim to “market economy status” in the World Trade Organization (WTO). That status—which China says should come to it automatically in December this year under the terms of its 2001 WTO accession—would make it much harder for the EU to impose anti-dumping duties on Chinese imports. The Commission now faces the delicate choice of accepting China’s claim (to the detriment of European producers) or rejecting it (an action that is likely to invite some form of economic retaliation from Beijing). A possible middle way would be to recognize China’s market economy status but to carve out a set of exceptions to protect key European industries. However this dispute plays out, it will simply mark the beginning of a long and complicated relationship between Europe and its fastest-growing investor.

The piece originally appeared in China Economic Quarterly. 

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.

In “Designing Pan-Atlantic and International Anti-Crime Cooperation,” a chapter for the new book, Dark Networks in the Atlantic Basin: Emerging Trends and Implications for Human Security (Center for Transatlantic Relations, January 2015), Vanda Felbab-Brown discusses the context and challenges of designing policies to counter organized crime and illicit economies in West Africa. She argues that although large-scale illicit economies and organized crime have received intense attention from governments and international organizations since the end of the Cold War, the strategies designed to combat these developments have been ineffective and, at times, counterproductive. Many populations experiencing inadequate state presence, great poverty, and social and political marginalization are dependent on illicit economies; and policies prioritizing suppression of these economies can, paradoxically, increase the economic and political capital of criminal or militant groups.

The recent drug trade epidemic and the connections between various illicit economies and terrorism have cast a spotlight on West Africa, Felbab-Brown explains. But in analyzing how the drug trade affects West Africa, it is important to note that preexisting institutional and governance deficiencies crucially amplify the destabilizing effects of the drug trade. Neither the  drug trade nor the entrenchment of political corruption and misgovernance in West Africa are new phenomena emerging in the wake of cocaine flows through the region. Rather, political contestation in West Africa has long centered on the capture of rents from legal, semi-illegal, or outright illegal economies such as diamonds, gold, timber, cacao, human trafficking, and illegal fishing, resulting in a pervasive culture of illegality, in which society expects that laws will be broken, enforcement evaded, and that the state will be the source of rents rather than an equitable provider of public goods. A long history of rentier economies, illicit activity, smuggling, endemic corruption, weak institutions, and governance as mafia rule—that provides exceptions from law enforcement to the ruler's clique—has left West Africa with what Felbab-Brown terms the technology of illegality and the state as mafia bazaar.

This context makes West Africa a particularly vexing area for policymakers and international donors who want to combat militancy or organized crime in West Africa. The United States and international community should consider any intervention in the region strategically, calibrating assistance packages to the absorptive capacity of the partner country, focusing on broad state-building, and fostering good governance. The priority of the United States must be to combat the most disruptive and dangerous networks of organized crime and belligerency, recognizing that anti-crime interventions cannot eradicate the majority of organized crime, illicit economies, and drug trafficking in the region. Moreover, efforts by external donors, such as Colombia or Brazil, to transfer policy practices to West African countries need to carefully consider which external lessons and policies are suited for local contexts.

The full book, Dark Networks in the Atlantic Basin: Emerging Trends and Implications for Human Security, is available for purchase from The Brookings Institution Press.

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• Designing pan-Atlantic and international anti-crime cooperation