The Statesman

He was punked by Hugo Chavez at the Summit of the Americas.

The Chinese refused to support tougher sanctions against Iran and Syria and refused to allow greater Internet access and freedom of expression for their citizens.  They also undertook aggressive action to control the oil-rich Spratly Islands while we failed to support Japan and the Philippines, two key allies in his new Pacific strategy.

The Russians also refused to support stricter sanctions against Iran and Syria and insisted on the removal of missile defense radars in Poland and the Czech Republic, to which he readily agreed, exposing our NATO allies to political criticism and the very Russian missiles the radars were intended to deter.  He followed that up by confiding to then-President Medvedev (publicly, as it turned out) that he would be “more flexible” concerning nuclear arms cuts after the November election, confirming that he assumes an attitude of submissive inferiority to the Russians.

His overture to Iran “without preconditions” was a failure.  Iran not only refused to stop its nuclear program but increased the number of gas centrifuges required to enrich uranium to weapons grade.  Now Iran threatens to close the Strait of Hormuz in the face of international sanctions and he says nothing.

He refused to support the pro-democracy demonstrators in Teheran in 2009 when strong U.S. involvement could have led to the regime change he says he wants.  He was confused by the Arab spring of 2011, paralyzed with indecision by the choice in front of him: Do I support the demonstrators who are chanting for democracy but who are led by jihadists or do I stand with the Arab strongmen who jail and torture their political opponents?  Unable to answer his own question, he did and said nothing until France took the lead in bombing Libya and he suddenly found his courage, then lost it again when faced with Bashar Assad.

His answer to the financial crisis that threatens to bankrupt Europe is to raise taxes and spending in America.

He leaked national security information to the press (the double agent in Yemen, the Flame virus that has infected and disabled much of Iran’s information systems, the extent of the Predator strike program) in an attempt to raise his foreign policy prestige in an election year.

His answer to the bloodbath in Mexico was to allow Mexican drug traffickers to buy more American guns.

After his inauguration, he cancelled a joint press conference with British Prime Minister Gordon Brown, presented him and his family with cheap gifts and removed a bust of Winston Churchill from the Oval Office.  He also criticized British colonial policy in Kenya (his grandfather was arrested during the Mau Mau uprising in 1953) and endorsed negotiations over the Falkland Islands which the British consider sovereign territory and over which they fought Argentina in 1982.  He then invited British Prime Minister David Cameron to a State Dinner at the White House when it was politically expedient.

He took eight months to approve a troop surge in Afghanistan, “the war we have to win” in his parlance, then sent fewer than were requested, then announced that we would retreat.

At a time when China and Russia are pursuing aggressive policies, when a war between Israel and Iran seems imminent and when we are still faced with global Islamic terror, he cuts the Defense Department by $500 billion.

He promised to close the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay and signed an Executive Order to that effect, then reneged.

His foreign policy is marked not by the bumbling naiveté of Jimmy Carter but by the tense frustration of an Ivy League professor whose meticulous theories begin to fail when put into practice, then consistently fail, then fail utterly; like an aficionado of chess who has studied the game for decades, studied and memorized the strategies of the great masters of the past and is sure he can beat any player in the world, but when playing the game for real, finds himself trapped and stares at the board unblinkingly, frozen by the certainty of defeat.  All his supposed brilliance and eloquence, all his gifts for diplomacy and nuance, his magnetic personality, have slammed into reality and fallen lifeless to the ground, and we are left to wonder, “Is this the best you got?”  America, the world’s lone superpower and the undisputed leader of the Free World for seventy years, is itself leaderless, a papier mache figure set in the White House for display, inanimate, idle, obsolete.  But can we do better than a well-dressed mannequin?  Can we regain the respect of our allies and enemies alike?  Can we demonstrate the firm resolve and powerful action that is our hallmark?  Yes, of course we can, if we simply put our minds to it.  Barack Obama has failed: It is time for him to step aside and let a steadier hand take the wheel.