US-New Zealand relations shipshape again
Are we there yet?
The three-decade-long self-imposed freeze on United States ship visits has been declared over. Thawed, melted.
The relationship is, in a word, shipshape again.
There remains only one hurdle, now Vice-President Joe Biden has accepted the invitation for a US navy vessel to attend our navy’s 75th birthday in November.
That hurdle is the symbolic formal assessment of the vessel’s non-nuclear credentials for compliance with New Zealand’s law. New Zealand officials will advise Foreign Minister Murray McCully to that effect; he will in turn advise Prime Minister John Key, who will sign the approval. Symbolic, because as former foreign affairs minister Winston Peters rightly asked, what is there – really – left to decide?
Since the invitation was made public, we have witnessed a shadow play of the diplomatic drama that has already been resolved behind closed doors. The public act of sending the invitation implied the groundwork had been done on acceptance. The acceptance would not have been forthcoming without a clear understanding that Key would approve the nominated vessel.
And the nature of the ‘‘asset’’ – not necessarily a warship – would have been canvassed at the get-go before the invitation was disclosed. That adds weight to the notion it will be a support ship; not bristling with missiles and guns. The hospital ship Mercy from Hawaii has been mooted, where any whiff of uranium is limited to X-ray machines and medical gear. That will open the way for further, more militaristic options in the future, and there are those who will urge vigilance given the US stance that surface vessels are not nuclear armed ‘‘in normal circumstances’’.
Labour and luminaries of the antinuclear movement have already declared such a visit acceptable and a victory for the country’s resolve in the face of years of US pressure. But this first step will be as noncontentious as possible.
If the Mercy is the vessel of choice, New Zealand and US officials are likely savouring the thought of Valerie Morse and her latter-day protesters sailing a brave flotilla out to oppose the entry of a hospital ship. If they were wise, they would heed the message from their protesting predecessors and stay tied to the wharf.
That’s not to say the total legacy of the anti-nuclear protesters has passed into history. As former prime minister Sir Geoffrey Palmer has correctly pointed out, it was not just about nuclear ship visits but part of a wider call for nuclear disarmament . . . and more countries have the bomb now than back in the 1980s.
But those old enough will be able to recall debates from the time that seem quaint now, and which underscore how much has changed – and why the ship standoff had become absurd from both sides. Those opposed to the anti-nuke law argued New Zealand was ‘‘free-loading’’ by making use of US nuclear deterrence while refusing the ships that helped provide it. Friends who expect help don’t ask friends what they bring to the war party.
And back before the fall of the Berlin Wall, Russian missiles were still a major bogy.
But Key’s joking exchange with then Russian President Dmitry Medvedev at the 2010 Apec summit dinner somehow summed up the changed world.
The two were sitting next to each other and the topic turned to the 15 minutes it took for a missile to travel from Russia to the US capital. Key – in full goofy uncle mode – asked how long it would take to hit New Zealand.
Medvedev rocked back and consulted an official standing behind him before turning back to Key.
‘‘22 minutes, but I’ll ring you beforehand.’’
Now the strategic issues are so much more complex.
In the Pacific the main strategic rival to the US is the new economic – and military – superpower China.
New Zealand’s traditional strategic links endure but the point of balance in our current and future trade interests is shifting towards a China-dominated Asia. That gives the US added reason to play the indulgent uncle and accept New Zealand’s stance on its ships.
Asking us to side with it, including a down-low military role in the Middle East and over tensions in the South China Sea, is incompatible with a tough stance on ship visits. The various other elements of the standoff, from bans on intelligence sharing and exercising to docking in US miliary bases, have progressively fallen away in recent years.
Taking this final step was inevitable, returning New Zealand and the US to the status of allies (Key’s word) enjoyed before the 1980s anti-nuclear elephant was ushered into the room.
But despite all the back-slapping, as far as the US-New Zealand relationship goes, it does not mark the end of history.
The next question the US will have to ask itself, not just about New Zealand but the wider Asia Pacific, is how the tortuously negotiated Trans-Pacific Partnership Agreement fits into the mix.
If anti-TPPA rhetoric in the presidential race means the free trade pact does not make it over the Congressional line, or there are attempts to skew it further towards the US by the incoming administration, how will the region respond?
What is the strategic value of a trade deal with 11 countries – that notably excludes China – as opposed to any domestic heartburn it may cause?
How does it expect countries wanting better access to the giant US market to react when there are Sino-centred trade pacts on offer, or in New Zealand’s case where there is an existing free trade deal with China?
To put it crudely, it is inconceivable that New Zealand would ever side with China in a shooting war with US.
But equally, given the real economic realpolitik of trade, it will grow harder for New Zealand to openly oppose China’s interests in the region as it flexes its muscles. More so if improved trade is not part of the US offering.
The unlovely sight this past week of China trying to strongarm NZ Inc over a steel anti-dumping complaint – and the links it made to US anti-dumping actions – should make the point with crystal clarity in both Washington and Wellington.