Ten months usually suffice to establish an American president's foreign policy direction and his decision-making methods. During that time, he will also have learned that the world was not created anew on his inauguration, that his predecessor's blunders did not cause every problem, and that his electoral slogans do not always translate into effective policy. Obama is no exception, as becomes clear upon examination of his basic approach, and how he has fared on three issues: (1) the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, (2) Iran, and (3) Afghanistan.

NEW MAN, OLD IDEAS Obama first discussed the main lines of his foreign policy at length on July 7, 2009 in a speech to the New Economic School in Moscow, part of his visit to Russia. He announced five U. S. objectives: (1) a nuclear-weapons-free world; (2) a successful campaign against "violent extremists"; (3) global prosperity; (4) democratic virtues; and finally (5) an international system that advances cooperation but respects sovereignty. The locale offered little exposure and the speech hardly resonated, partly because of Michael Jackson's death.

Eight days later, on July 15, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's talk in Washington on the same subject got far more media attention. She included Obama's five points and called for: "a new era of engagement based on mutual interest and mutual respect." This Clinton contrasted with the 19th century concert of powers, the 20th century balance of power and, more recently, unilateralism. Instead, multi- polarity would be converted into "multi-partners." And the method? "Smart power," whereby all American assets, not only the military, would be deployed to deal with the problems of an interdependent world. It followed, of course, that State needed more resources to become so smart.

Clinton's oratory clicked with the White House for, on September 23 at the U. N., Obama also announced a "new era of engagement." The five objectives, however, were altered: the environment was added to the list and democracy was relegated to the peroration. But, like Clinton, Obama disparaged traditional approaches, among them "alignments of nations rooted in the cleavages of a long-gone Cold War," not a comforting phrase for NATO.

Taken together, these speeches sought to "reset" America's international image. Instead of Bush's implacable crusade against a dark world of terrorism, the United States would become the model international citizen abiding by principles and obligations while expecting others to do likewise. And to judge by Obama's popular reception, this was a mission accomplished mostly by the president himself. An original figure who defied political and cultural odds to win supreme power, Obama overshadowed the content of his policy. But if the man was original, his ideas were not. "Engagement" and "multi-partnership" were variations on traditional concepts of collective security. Smart power offered a trendy phrase for the perennial attempt to align means with ends.

The new administration's decision-making system offered no novelties. Retired USMC General James Jones, the National Security Advisor, copied George H. W. Bush's model, run by General Scowcroft, that promised largely silent, effective action. And that worked, too. Henry Kissinger, an expert on this subject, told Hillary Clinton there was less friction in State-White House relations than he had seen in forty years.

The White House was also running the show. Special representatives on the Middle East (George Mitchell), Afghanistan-Pakistan (Richard Holbrooke), and Vice President Joseph Biden's interest in NATO and Russia narrowed the Secretary of State's scope. Clinton's attempt to give State more play in China, India, and Africa were not obvious successes.

As for the specifics, the five interests were derived from both Democrat and Republican "pragmatics": former Secretaries of State, such as George Shultz, on the Reaganesque nuclear-free world; more vigorous diplomacy in the Middle East, such as detailed in the three-year-old bipartisan Baker-Hamilton Study Group on Iraq, and last but surely not least, the U. N.'s collective security mantra, invented by America and endorsed at least rhetorically by every administration since its founding.

The origin of so much of Obama's foreign policy in bipartisan consensuses is perhaps its most interesting feature. Initiatives supported by broadly shared opinions offer political safety and promise persistence. But this method does not always work. Sometimes a consensus cannot be had. And sometimes the one available does not deal effectively with the problem. Then what appears safe may actually be most risky. The hazards of running obsolete or ineffective ideas, even if backed by a consensus, are visible already in the Arab-Israeli, Iranian, and Afghani cases.

THE LIMITS OF CONSENSUS: THE MUSLIMS, THE ARABS, AND THE ISRAELIS Obama had promised a fresh start in dealing with U. S.-Muslim relations, the Arab-Israeli conflict and the war on terrorism. He would use his unique personal background as the son of a Muslim father to break decisively with his predecessor.

In his last year, Bush himself had attempted to ease U. S.- Muslim tensions through a formal speech in Abu Dhabi on January 13, 2008 to little effect. That same month, the United States did successfully launch the Annapolis negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority but no agreements resulted. The talks stopped when Israel invaded Gaza in December 2008, an event that also halted the indirect Israel-Syria negotiations under Turkish auspices.

Against this background, Obama began early - and personally - on an overture to Muslims and, closely connected, a revival of the peace diplomacy. For the latter he chose to follow a controversial, if bipartisan view, often associated with former National Security Advisors Zbigniew Brzezinski and Brent Scowcroft. In their view, shared by many of Washington's Middle East hands and academic experts, excessive American deference to Israel crippled U. S. brokerage between the parties. Neither American efforts to rally Arab support for Palestinian Authority head Abu Mazen nor the project to forestall Iran's nuclear weapons could succeed unless the United States regained its credibility for independent action - even if the Israelis or their American supporters did not like it.

There remained one missing piece. How to separate from Israel without doing unintended damage to the overall relationship or raising unrealistic Arab expectations? Among U. S.-Israeli disagreements, one stood out: the settlement enterprise. Controversial even in Israel and not strongly supported by American Jews, the communities had long been called by Washington obstacles to peace. By focusing on this issue, Obama could make his play in relative political safety.

Political developments in Israel made the "distancing" easier. The February 10, 2009 Israeli elections brought a quarrelsome coalition to power, much of it opposed to a Palestinian state and supportive of settlements. Benyamin Netanyahu, the new prime minister, was familiar and unloved in Washington. On May 18, he and Obama strongly disagreed over U. S. demands for an immediate settlement freeze. Secretary of State Clinton followed up the pressure saying on May 27 that "no exceptions" would be made; all settlement growth beyond the 1967 lines must simply end.

The U. S. "reset" in this case was to return to the still- born Mitchell plan, later incorporated in the international Quartet's (U. S., U.N., E.U., Russia) equally abortive Road Map. This complex document set forth three phases and several confidence-building measures beginning with a total Israeli settlement freeze and Palestinian suppression of all violence and incitement. Both had signed; neither had complied. Since 2002, developments such as Israel's withdrawal from Gaza, Hamas' takeover, its rocket war against Israel and Israel's retaliation culminating in Operation Cast Lead, had rendered it obsolete. Annapolis focused on final status issues, not interim stages. And both sides had engaged in quiet measures, including settlement restrictions and improved Palestinian Authority security measures.

Now Washington abandoned Annapolis and set Senator Mitchell to work on reviving his plan, assisted by a personal presidential commitment. But Obama had begun the quarrel with Israel in the absence of any assurances of what the Arabs would do. What they did was disastrous. On May 19, a day after the Obama-Netanyahu clash, Abu Mazen declared that he would not resume negotiations unless Israel froze all settlements including Jerusalem and agreed that the 1967 borders would set the framework. Having negotiated with Ehud Olmert for an entire year without such preconditions, the Palestinian leader was now drastically upping the ante.

Then, on the eve of his Cairo speech to the Muslims, the president stopped in Saudi Arabia. When he sought a gesture that might reward an Israeli settlement freeze, he received a tart rebuff: Riyadh would do nothing at all.

Thus, when Obama delivered his overture to the Muslims (and Arabs) on June 4, he was already the victim of his own diplomatic malpractice. His quarrel with Netanyahu would not be eased by the Arabs. They would simply wait for him to deliver Israel.

What then was the point? In fact, Obama's policy was an act of willful amnesia. What he tried, consensus notwithstanding, had been tried before, notably by Presidents Carter and George H. W. Bush. The pattern proved to be the same: partial satisfaction painfully extracted from Israel (under both Likud and Labor governments) and passivity on the Arab side. In fact, settlements were an obstacle but they had never been the main obstacle to either negotiations or a final agreement.

These gathering troubles did not derail the Cairo speech which proved a tour de force for those who heard it. As had happened earlier in Istanbul or at the Al Arabiya interview immediately after inauguration, Obama's rhetorical gifts dazzled. He spoke "Muslim to the Muslims" and "Arab to the Arabs," persuading his audience to see themselves in him. Obama found much common ground between American and Islamic values; he called for a new partnership and confined the war on terrorism to extremists. The president criticized Holocaust deniers and 9/11 conspiracy theorists, both widespread phenomena even among the better educated in the region. (There was no applause for these lines.) And he repeated his demand on the Israeli settlements, coupled with empathy for the Palestinian suffering.

On June 14, Netanyahu replied to the president's demand in a speech at Bar Ilan University. The Likud leader found comfort in an Israeli consensus: yes, a two-state solution if you could find the Palestinian partner for a demilitarized state; yes, some restrictions on settlements but no complete freeze, especially not in Jerusalem.

The denouement of Obama's policy came swiftly. After months of fruitless diplomacy, the president met the Israeli and Palestinian leaders on September 22 at the U. N., demanding negotiations without preconditions.

Now Abu Mazen squirmed, complaining that Washington had failed him. He weakened his position further when he promoted the U. N.'s Human Rights Council Goldstone Report accusing Israel of war crimes in Gaza. Then, under U. S. pressure, he relented, agreeing to postpone the Council vote only to reverse his reversal in the face of popular Palestinian outrage. Was this the stalwart partner for an eventual peace deal?

Sent in to save the situation the secretary of state fared little better, over-praising Netanyahu's partial freeze offer on October 1, then a day later in Morocco declaring that "This Israeli offer falls far short of what our preferences would be but if it is acted upon it will be an unprecedented restriction on settlements_" When this lawyering failed, Clinton admitted in Cairo that she "could have been clearer in communicating" that Obama still wanted "a halt to all settlement activity." Ten months on, the president's strategy of separating from Israel on settlements had simply reduced U. S. influence with both sides. Obama had followed a bipartisan consensus into a deep ditch.

THE HAND AND THE FIST The new administration's most ambitious diplomacy concerned Iran. Here, too, history offered rich lessons. Bush the first and Clinton both offered open hands to Iran and both got the fist in return. Only on two occasions - after the Kuwait War in 1991 and Saddam's overthrow in 2003 - did Tehran launch its own diplomatic feelers, but Washington did not take them up. This background suggested that the logic of force rather than the reason of diplomacy registered on the regime.

Obama inherited a consensus (Baker-Hamilton) that a direct American overture should be made not only on the nuclear issue but also on Iran's support for terrorism. In his inaugural, the president declared that "we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist." As with the Muslim initiative, Obama began on a personal note sending New Year's greetings to the Iranian people and, as was later revealed, a secret letter to Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei.

These overtures found support in the United States from two very different groups. Some argued that if Obama, unlike Bush, made clear that he did not intend to overturn the regime, the Iranians would be ready to talk seriously. Others believed that new diplomacy could increase the pressure on Tehran, easing the task of obtaining fresh sanctions, especially from the Russians and the Chinese, if the Iranians did not come around. The president combined both approaches: he would welcome Iran as a responsible government if it behaved responsibly; otherwise there would be "greater isolation."

Just as this initiative began, Tehran produced a surprise. Ahmadinejad's controversial economic and social policies turned the Iranian presidential election into a lively contest. Then a crude fix of the results on June 12 and a violent suppression of huge public protests over the fraud mutated into a popular rejection of the regime itself. At the very moment when Washington was conceding the Islamic Republic's legitimacy, many of its citizens were repudiating it. As for Khamenei and Ahmadinejad, they claimed that the protests were an attempt at a "velvet revolution," a Zionist, American and British plot.

After a week of evasion, Obama finally denounced these events on June 20. He also warned that some progress should be shown by September. The entire engagement initiative would be reviewed at year's end.

Washington pressed forward. In September, cultivating the Russians, Obama announced that the Polish and Czech missile defense facilities intended to counter long-range Iranian missiles - bitterly criticized by Moscow - would be replaced by mobile units for a short- and medium-range threat. Vladimir Putin was pleased and the new, former Soviet bloc members of NATO were outraged. (Vice President Biden was dispatched in October to reassure the allies that military installations would indeed be placed in Poland and the Czech Republic, just not the original Bush-plan missiles.)

On September 21, Iran produced yet another surprise by notifying the IAEA that it had a secret enrichment plant inside a Guards military base - apparently having learned that the United States already knew of it. Using this information and the missile decision, Obama extracted from President Medvedev two days later a declaration that new sanctions might be "inevitable." French President Nicolas Sarkozy then argued for a public confrontation with Iran at the special disarmament session scheduled for the 28th with the president in the chair. Obama refused. This was not the message of his sermon summoning the world to virtue that day and Sarkozy was left to fume publicly that words were meaningless in view of Iranian (and North Korean) actions. Instead, the United States upstaged the G-20 Economic Summit in Pittsburgh with the revelation.

Although meeting formally on October 1, it was not until October 19-21 that the United States got its first full engagement with Iran. Over two days, the second of which featured long, private American and Iranian exchanges while the others waited, a deal was apparently reached. Lightly enriched uranium would be shipped out, an estimated seventy- five per cent of Iran's total known hoard thereby preventing an Iranian "break-out" capability for at least the year of the transaction. Russia and France would enrich the material and return it for medical use in Iran's research reactor under international supervision.

The Security Council's demand that Iran cease all enrichment was sidestepped by this negotiation. So was international pressure for sanctions. The Russians told Clinton new measures were unnecessary. Then Mahmoud Ahmadinejad added his peculiar logic to the situation, observing that while the Zionists had nuclear weapons, Iran would never give up its peaceful nuclear program.

Over the next ten days the Americans got a full taste of what "engagement" meant to Iran. Tehran said "yes," "no," and "maybe"; "yes" to its right to enrichment, "no" to any significant uranium shipments abroad, and "maybe" they could buy it and not ship at all. As the Europeans were quick to tell the Obama Administration, it was all depressingly familiar: yes meant talk, never action. Khamenei added his own metaphor on November 4: "Every time they have a smile on their face, they are hiding a dagger behind their back." The president's diplomatic ultimatum had come up barren.

Would "crippling sanctions," to use Clinton's phrase, be the consequences? Would the Russians and Chinese agree? And would the Israelis act? After ten months, the Iranian policy needed a strategic review except that the president was already fully preoccupied with another one.

AFGHANISTAN: DECIDING AND UNDECIDING Of all the early Obama foreign policy initiatives, Afghanistan proved to be the most divisive. It had not begun that way. Even before the election, Obama had made Afghanistan "his war," criticizing his predecessor for a wrongful focus on Iraq while the real front lay to the east. It was from there that Osama bin Laden had launched 9/11 and there that the United States and its allies were in danger of losing because of neglect. On February 17, the newly elected president announced a reinforcement of 21,000 troops. Following a thorough review, Obama also announced a new strategy on March 27: al Qaeda was the target, counterinsurgency the strategy for destroying it, complete with "clear metrics" for measuring progress. The new approach would also be coordinated through increased support for Pakistan. It was a "war of necessity," as Obama would later phrase it. A new team - the veteran diplomat Richard Holbrooke, and then after a command reshuffle, General Stanley McChrystal, a veteran of the Iraqi campaign - was appointed to prosecute it.

Afghanistan, as Obama found it, resembled Iraq of 2005-06 in one important respect, namely, that the American strategy had been a failure. A maddening mix of NATO and U. S. commands, the U. N. and NGOs, produced neither a minimally effective Afghan state nor decisive defeat of the Taliban. Meanwhile, the half-ally Pakistan, an increasingly unresponsive rental, had itself begun unraveling in the aftermath of General Musharraf's rule.

Obama hoped that a surge similar to Iraq might be managed with Kabul. The March 27th decision, however, masked a deep conflict among his advisors. Counterinsurgency required more troops on the ground, American and others. Obama discovered that his popularity in NATO Europe did not translate into much more help: some allies had little more to give and others were leery of domestic opposition to casualties or even war, especially Germany. The strategy also demanded a modestly functional government. Vice President Biden, in particular, doubted that President Karzai's mix of corruption and evasion could supply it. He, and others, argued that a "light footprint" directed at al Qaeda plus aid for Pakistan would be less risky and more effective.

Obama's words - al Qaeda as the target, counterinsurgency as the strategy - therefore represented a compromise among the factions. It was a consensus, of sorts, but, as would soon develop, a very shallow one. Before this became obvious, however, the United States was the beneficiary of a stroke of luck. The Taliban overreached.

Since 2005, the Pakistani government and army ceded ground to their native Taliban, allowing them, after ineffective military resistance, to take over the Swat Valley and much of the hill country in the northwest. While the generals and politicians maneuvered after Pervez Musharraf's fall, the Taliban progressed. In late winter and early spring, the Taliban took Lower Dir and Buner provinces threatening to sunder the vital Islamabad-Peshawar Road. These actions and a spate of bloody bombings against military and civilian targets in Pakistani cities outraged Pakistani leaders and public alike. A newly buoyant army spent May, June, and July retaking lost ground: By October, the generals were intent on seizing South Waziristan, the center of the Pakistani Taliban's tribal support. These actions were combined with new intelligence that allowed U. S. predator strikes unprecedented effectiveness.

The cheering in Washington did not last long. On August 20, despite a U. N. presence and forces deployed to protect the process, only an estimated 38 percent of voters participated in the Afghan presidential poll. Biden's forebodings were borne out. Widespread fraud, eventually claiming one-third of Hamid Karzai's votes, gave the incumbent a majority. This raised serious questions about America's ostensible partner in counterinsurgency.

Then General McChrystal reported on what he needed to turn around the situation, which, if allowed to continue for another year, "risks an outcome where defeating the insurgency is no longer possible." The general wanted 40,000 more troops.

In the face of these developments, the president's March consensus promptly dissolved. The same disputes resumed with more edge. The McChrystal report leaked on September 21. Although Secretary of Defense Robert Gates warned that military advice was given best through the chain of command not the press, the report ignited public debate over Afghanistan. Obama's sudden discovery that a new strategy was needed - or at least a new consensus - proved politically awkward, and more awkward still were the long meetings and weeks of delay.

By the end of October, NATO, briefed by McChrystal, supported him with pledges of modest increases. Still it was primarily a U. S. decision and Obama would not be rushed. Milestones came and went. The shoddy election needed a run- off. Senator John Kerry, Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, successfully cajoled Karzai into accepting one. But Karzai's major rival, former Foreign Minister Abdullah Abdullah, did not think it was winnable or would be honest. On November 1, he declined to run. It would be Karzai or no one.

The review went on. So did the fighting. The Pakistani army entered South Waziristan on October 16. Meanwhile, Pakistani (and Afghan) cities were attacked in horrendous suicide bombings.

A CAUTIONARY TALE It would be an error to judge Obama's entire foreign policy based on these three case studies. Nor is it prudent to predict presidential fates from their early experience. Harry Truman, for example, was derided universally as a bungler in 1945-46. John F. Kennedy, for another, judged himself to have blundered badly in dealing with the Soviet Union in 1961.

We also do not know yet how Obama will perform under severe stress. By this time in their tenure, Clinton had gone through the Somalia fiasco, the Berlin wall had fallen unexpectedly for George H. W. Bush and, most dramatic of all, George W. Bush was wrestling with the consequences of the 9/11 attacks.

Still, one can draw some conclusions about what may be called the end of Obama's beginning. Administrations should be judged less on the efficacy of their initial strategies, which sometimes do not survive contact with reality, and more on whether they can make timely adjustments. Three elements in particular should now be subjected to scrutiny:

(1) Too Much on the White House: The current National Security Council (NSC) system, while it apparently duplicates the successful Scowcroft model from 1989 is missing a vital component, namely the State Department. George H. W. Bush's system worked well because Secretary of State Baker was a full partner with the president and took on the burden of most of the foreign policy. While the White House occasionally took the lead and the president himself was directly involved in a few matters, for the most part, Baker and his department were the "address." This prevented terminal overload at the White House and preserved the president's prestige. Whether such a partnership can be made between Obama and Clinton remains to be seen. But, as Clinton's recent excursions to Pakistan and the Middle East illustrate, it would be better for Obama if the secretary led the elephants rather than trying to clean up after them. The "special envoy" technique only muddled matters to no good effect.

(2) Consensus Does Not Guarantee Results: As illustrated by both the Arab-Israeli issue and Afghanistan, recourse to obsolete ideas or shallow agreement, even if backed by a consensus, will not rescue a policy from inherent error or breakup under stress. Obama has had to beat a personal retreat on the one and an attempt to reconstruct strategy for the other. These tactics ultimately raise the question of presidential commitment and with it, leadership. And part of leadership may be the invention of new ideas and then the formation of a consensus behind them, as was done notably by State and the NSC in 1989-90 to manage German unification. It is not clear whether the current NSC, deeply involved in operations, or State's policy planning bureau, are up to the task.

(3) Collective Security may be the Wrong Concept: The rhetoric of common interests and interdependencies make for good poll ratings and applause at the U. N. but this hardly translates into effective policy on the ground. The president may argue that right and responsibilities are reciprocal but if they are not reciprocated then what will be done to assure American interests? Time and again when it comes to difficult actions, regional allies backstopped by those with global reach, such as the United States, offer the real power.

There is a cautionary tale here. Once there was an American president who rose precipitously from obscurity, touched the American soul with his oratory and, riding a domestic consensus for reform, worked with congressional government. He stood apart from his allies abroad, adopted a high moral tone, and sang the song of collective security. In the end, he failed, disillusioning a generation. His name was Woodrow Wilson.

---------------------------------------------------------- Copyright Foreign Policy Research Institute (http://www.fpri.org/).