Ultimatum

by Matthew Glass

  They were stalled. Lisle suggested an adjournment. He and Wu went back to Washington, Lin and Gao went to Beijing.

  Joe Benton and President Wen went to India.

  ~ * ~

  They met in a room with a magnificent balcony overlooking the water and the yellow hills beyond. The luxury resort the Indian government had chosen for the summit was built in the middle of a lake and was accessible only by helicopter or boat. It also had only fifty-eight suites, which meant that a fleet of boats continuously crisscrossed the lake, taking hundreds of aides and journalists who accompanied the G9 leaders to and from hotels around the lake where they were being accommodated.

  Close to fifteen of the scheduled forty-five minutes allocated to the meeting were gone by the time the photojournalists were cleared out of the room. The two presidents remained sitting in armchairs, with interpreters behind them, and a small entourage on a sofa on either side. The two parties had agreed to bring three officials each. On the sofa beside Benton were Larry Olsen, Bob Colvin, the treasury secretary, and Ellen Wainwright, the U.S. trade representative. Flanking President Wen were Foreign Minister Chou, Finance Minister Hu, and Minister Li Wenyuan.

  The two presidents made general remarks. Wen talked about this being their first face-to-face meeting and hoping there would be many more. Benton responded appropriately. The two leaders discussed a recent bombing that had taken place in the Philippines and the need to cooperate against terrorism. Then Wen started talking about whaling and his hope that the industry could be outlawed forever. Benton wondered why Wen was devoting time to that, and responded by talking about his hopes that business links between the two countries would soon be as strong as ever—an oblique reference to the contract debacle back in March—and said that in token of American seriousness in this area he had brought Ellen Wainwright, the U.S. trade representative, to the meeting, along with Bob Colvin. Ellen nodded in acknowledgment. Wen said he was aware that Minister Hu knew Wainwright well and Hu nodded in turn. They would meet together afterward. More superficial remarks were exchanged. Joe Benton was aware of time passing. He had told Olsen that with about ten minutes to go he was going to suggest that Wen and he have a few minutes in private. Olsen had tried to discourage him, but Benton had overruled his objection. His gut told him this was what was needed. Direct, him and Wen, face-to-face, without the pressure of anyone else looking on, so they could be completely open with each other. That was the only way to break the deadlock in Oslo. Eventually he made the suggestion. Wen held up his hand as the interpreter began translating and said in English that he would be pleased to speak in private with the president.

  The entourages stood. Wen glanced at his interpreter and she stood as well. Everyone but the two presidents left the room.

  There was silence for a moment. Both men savored the rare treat of being left unattended.

  Joe Benton smiled. “I’m afraid it’s going to take a little while until we get to know each other and how we each do things.”

  Wen smiled as well. “That is the problem with world leaders, is it not? As soon as one gets to know another, the first one is gone.” Wen laughed. “We should all be leaders for life!”

  Benton chuckled along. “I don’t know about you, President Wen, but I’m not sure I’d want to inflict something that awful on the American people.”

  “What? Me or you?” said Wen. The two presidents laughed again.

  “Call me Joe,” said Benton.

  “Frankie,” said Wen. He had picked up the moniker when doing postgrad work at Harvard thirty years earlier, and there were at least four different stories in the diplomatic world supposedly explaining how he had got it.

  “Okay,” said Benton. He sat forward. “Here’s the thing, Frankie. My guys tell me we’re stalled in Oslo.”

  Wen looked at him with interest.

  “They’re stuck.”

  Still Wen didn’t reply.

  “Okay, I’m going to be completely open. Your proposal is way below our bottom line. We’re not bluffing, it’s just way below it. We can’t do it. We’ve given on some things, but nothing’s coming back. I’m being completely open. Neither of us is going to get anywhere from here if we don’t see any movement on your side.”

  Wen nodded.

  “This is difficult for all of us,” said Benton. “I know that. But President Wen—”

  “Frankie.”

  Benton nodded. “Frankie, if we can pull this off, the world is going to thank us for generations to come.”

  “It would truly be a historic step,” said Wen.

  “I know you have to be sure there’s stability at home. I understand that. And whatever way you want to sell it at home, that’s okay. I know, I just know, that if we both want to make this happen, we can do it. There’s got to be a way we can find to get this done. What choice do we have?”

  The Chinese president gazed at Benton.

  Then he spoke, and his voice shook with emotion. “This is a time for leaders, Joe. This is a time to do the hard things.”

  “It is.” Benton felt it strongly, and his voice almost shook as well. He felt that the Chinese leader understood. For the first time, he felt that he really had a partner in this process. “It is, Frankie. A time for leaders.”

  “Tell your men to go back to Oslo.”

  “I want to do that, but I can’t send them back if there’s not going to be anything new.”

  “Joe, trust me. Send them back.”

  ~ * ~

  When they came out, it was twenty minutes after the scheduled end of their meeting. The entourages waited outside in two small groups. The presidents were chatting as they emerged. Wen said something, and Benton laughed.

  Olsen sought his eye.

  Benton winked, head still half-turned to listen to something else that Wen was saying.

  Three days later, Lisle and Wu sat down in Norway across the table from Lin and Gao. Lin pulled a file out of his briefcase. He presented a redraft of the integrated paper.

  The demand for an adjustment to reflect historical levels of emissions had disappeared.

  ~ * ~

  Thursday, August 18

  Benton Ranch, Wickenberg, Arizona

  Joe Benton listened to what Lisle was telling him from Oslo. The rest of the Marion group were patched in on the call from wherever they were on vacation. After two weeks of intense bargaining, the difference between the sides was a matter of timing. One year.

  The team in Oslo had expanded. Lisle and Wu had been joined by an analyst from Jackie Rubin’s team, who was able to model the economic and demographic impact of each option as the negotiation continued, and by an experienced drafter from the State Department. The Chinese team had expanded as well, with four support officials flying in from Beijing.

  They had moved to an agreed emissions reduction of twelve and ten percent in the two five-year periods, less than the U.S. had wanted but a lot more than the Chinese had started with. That meant relocating approximately another two million American citizens than would have been the case with the larger reduction. On the apportionment of the cuts, the negotiation had been difficult and demanding. At various points, at the end of late nights, each side had threatened to walk out. According to Pete Lisle’s laws of negotiations, that was good. If a side didn’t threaten to walk out, they weren’t feeling any pain. Ideally someone actually should walk out, at least once, but for everybody’s sake Pete was prepared to forgo that step. Yet they hit a wall after agreeing to base the apportionment on the absolute level of national emissions—which was in the United States’ favor— adjusted to take account of per capita GDP—which was in China’s favor. The U.S. position was to adjust twenty percent of the cut by the per capita formula, the Chinese position to adjust fifty percent. On the basis of the modeling, and after extensive phone consultation with Olsen, Rubin and the president, Lisle knew the U.S. couldn’t go above thirty percent. He offered twenty-five, the Chinese came back with forty-five. Halving the difference wa
sn’t going to get there. Lisle offered thirty. The Chinese didn’t budge. Either that was the Chinese bottom line, or they were seeing if they could get more. They now had thirty in their pocket, which was the actual U.S. bottom line. They may or may not have realized this. Lisle was prepared to let them know that, and he did. Did they believe it? Another two days of fruitless negotiation ensued. They had been negotiating for ten days solid. They were exhausted. Lisle suggested they all take a day off.

  At this point, Pete Lisle didn’t know where to go next. He didn’t want to reopen the principle of absolute emissions with a partial adjustment. It had taken ten excruciating days to get there and if he reopened that, he knew, they were back to square one, or worse. Yet there seemed to be an unbridgeable gulf of fifteen percent in the weighting proportion, and since the effect of the per capita weighting was so great, that was simply too big.

  Lisle decided on a break in the talks and took the American team into Oslo for a day of sightseeing, trying to get everyone’s head clear. Todd Anderson, the modeling guy, was a naval history buff and was desperate to see the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo. Soon they were all staring at the long, curving, scroll-prowed hull of a ninth-century Viking ship—apparently the best preserved ninth-century Viking ship in the world —all except Todd, who wasn’t staring but walking excitedly around the thing like a kid in a candy store. As he looked at the vessel, Pete Lisle thought how fitting it was that they were here. Their negotiation, and the deal they would do if it succeeded, was just about as fragile a vessel as this canoe-like thing in which men had set out to cross oceans. Were they insanely brave or simply idiotic? Was there a difference? And it was while he was pondering this that Andy Rawlins, the drafter, who was gazing at the tapering hull of the vessel as well, had an idea. What if they tapered the adjustment, working up from twenty percent across the ten-year period?

  Two minutes later, they were out of the museum, dragging a protesting Todd Anderson with them.

  The modeling went on all night. The next morning, they presented their proposal to Lin and Gao. Apply the per capita adjustment to twenty percent of the reduction at the start, and in year three begin tapering it so that it would reach forty percent in year ten. Privately, Lisle was prepared to go to forty-five percent in the last year.

  Lin and Gao came back with something different. Start the tapering in year two.

  Todd Anderson had already tried that and it didn’t look good. They went away and ran the numbers again. The trade-off between the extra five percent at the end, which Lisle was prepared to give, and the earlier start up front, was disadvantageous to the U.S. Approximately an extra half point of economic contraction.

  When they reconvened, Lisle offered the extra five percent at the end if they would agree to start the tapering in year three. Lin and Gao stuck. Start in year two or don’t start at all. It was a matter of timing. One year.

  ~ * ~

  “Give me those numbers again, Pete,” said Joe Benton in his study at the ranch.

  “An additional half percent decline in GDP. That’s as close as Todd can estimate it.”

  “When does the additional decline hit?” asked Jackie Rubin, who was patched in from Maine.

  “Year four,” said Lisle. “You should be able to access the spreadsheet on the secure server.”

  “I’ve got some kind of glitch up here. I can’t open it.”

  “A half percent,” said Benton. “Jackie, is that a deal breaker?”

  At her kitchen table in Maine, Rubin rolled her eyes. What was another half percent when you were already fourteen down?

  “No,” she said. “I don’t think so at this stage.”

  “And this makes a real difference to them?” said Benton.

  “Not that we can tell,” said Lisle. All through the negotiation, Anderson had been using the models to analyze the impacts on China as well, together with the effects of the various options on other major economies. But their level of knowledge of the Chinese position was limited, and they had no real understanding of how the Chinese government planned to handle relocation and the impact of economic contraction. Differences that looked trivial to them might have significant implications to the Chinese government in ways they didn’t understand.

  “Pete,” said Benton. “Give me your sense. What do you think?”

  “I think this is it,” said Lisle. “I think this is as good as it gets. But whether that’s good enough, that’s something I don’t know. Mr. President, I’m here. I’m in it. You’ve got to take that into account.” Pete Lisle knew that after a time, in any intense negotiation, the negotiators become invested in the process. They have a stake in reaching a result. They develop a relationship with their counterparts on the other side. They get weary and just want to get it finished. All of that can lead them to recommend agreements they ought to walk away from, or give too much to the other side in order to get a deal done. As an experienced mediator in other people’s disputes, he had seen it happen. It was always a mistake to persist with a deal under those circumstances. If you wouldn’t be able to sell the deal to your base, or if it wasn’t sufficient to deliver the minimum it had to deliver, you were better off to walk away no matter how much blood, sweat and tears had gone into the negotiation. Any agreement you did make would soon be repudiated by your own supporters, and the betrayal felt by the other side would make it that much harder to start again.

  “Oliver?” said the president.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get anything more.”

  Joe Benton considered the numbers he had written on the pad. They were worse than he had hoped for. But according to the models, the numbers on the Chinese side didn’t look too pretty either. Everyone was going to take pain. There was no way around it.

  He looked out the window at the field behind the house. The sky was blue, piercing blue. Outside, it was over a hundred degrees.

  “Let’s assume this is the best we can get,” he said. “Do we take it? What does everyone else think? Alan?”

  “It’s not as if I’ve had any time to think about it,” muttered Ball resentfully. The first he knew of the details of the deal were on this call.

  “What’s your feeling?” asked Benton, ignoring Ball’s insinuation.

  “If we do this, and we bring it into Kyoto, will the others follow?”

  “We have no choice but to make sure they do.” The figures were based on the assumption that cuts would be achieved globally. “Personally, by going out in front like this along with China, I think this is the best way to make that happen. Alan, do you have any other objection?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “No,” said Ball.

  “Larry?”

  Larry Olsen was on Cape Cod. He was amazed that there seemed to be a genuine deal on the table, one in which China took real pain. He had never believed it would get to this point. “I’m still not happy with where we are on verification.”