Posts Tagged ‘International Competition’

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Fighting over Crumbs

In Economics on August 5, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , , ,

The world has not recently experienced the sort of cutthroat national competition for natural resources that was a relatively common source of conflict during the long first era of industrialization from the mid-19th to the mid-20th Centuries. As Europe and the United States developed into industrial economies, their governments quickly recognized that secure supplies of those resources vital to maintaining growth had to be found. For the U.S., this was not a problem: the vast and barely-tapped resources of the young country kept industry well-supplied with virtually all it needed to continue production. European states, however, did not generally have the luxury of ample supplies of the raw material of industry within their borders; the result was a major impetus behind late-19th Century imperialism. European governments raced each other to secure every unclaimed corner of the globe, whether or not they knew what economic value it held. The competition for Southeast Asian rubber and West African palm oil, Egyptian cotton and Arabian oil to feed the machines became a race between states whose governments believed that they must continue to grow if they were to survive in the face of their ever-expanding rivals. The European imperial powers were moving toward a collective corner of industrial demand outstripping supply by the early decades of the 20th Century.

One might be inclined to wonder if the European leaders had ever heard of simply trading for what they required rather than going to such extravagant lengths to gather it themselves. Indeed, the years preceding the First World War saw global trade rapidly expanding, as ever-larger numbers of steamships moved cargoes around the world to the massive factories of Europe and the teeming markets of Asia, Africa, and South America. Yet even as trade was providing for unprecedented economic expansion, governments worried increasingly about the potential disaster that loomed over every industrialized state: What if our supplies are cut off? Scattered pessimists argued that nothing short of an economic cataclysm would befall them, while even the more numerous optimists understood that the increasingly perilous international diplomatic situation could erupt into war, though many of the latter argued that such a conflict would be short enough that shipping would not be seriously disrupted.

Rising international tension and increasing concern for economic security among the industrial powers were two sides of the same coin, and each fed into the other. While Britain considered the merits of “imperial preference,” a system designed to create a great interlocking economic network in an era of increasing pressure for autonomy among its various imperial holdings, Germany argued that it must be allowed to pursue its rightful “place in the sun” among the world’s great empires, as befitted such an economically powerful and dynamic state. But for each, along with France and Japan, and even the free-trading United States, there was the growing realization that the existing order could only survive as long as the sources of economic stability – natural resources and access to markets – remained secure. In order to do that, military and especially naval strength had to be maintained, strategically important territories acquired, and every effort made to render trade uninterruptible in the event of war or shortage.

As it happened, the privations of the First World War were largely the result of the war itself, not the cause of its outbreak. Yet the effects were clear long before they began to tell. The Allies imposed a naval blockade on the Central Powers design to deprive both their war machine and their industries of the things they needed to survive and triumph. The Central Powers sought to isolate the European Allies from the American market that increasingly kept them supplied with the raw materials and manufactured goods that allowed them to continue the struggle. The British North Sea blockade and the German submarine offensives were the most prominent of these efforts, and the former was far more successful than the latter; the result was economic disaster for Germany, leading to the end of the Kaiser’s regime in 1918, civil disorder, insurrection, and more than a decade of political and economic instability, with complete collapse only forestalled by infusions of American cash to keep the Weimar government afloat.

The lessons were clear: those states that were able to keep open their lines of supply to those things that allowed their economies to continue functioning during war were victorious; those that could not were destined for isolation and eventual defeat. It should have come as no surprise then that when the cycle repeated itself several decades later, the new rising powers of Germany and Japan felt they had little choice but to claw their way into the first rank of Powers by force if they were not to remain forever economically, and thus politically, inferior. There would be little point in developing their economies if they could not ensure that they could be protected; another British blockade of Germany, a reduction in American supplies to Japan would be all that was needed to render them immediately vulnerable. The First World War had shown that these threats were not idle speculation; industry and trade would be targeted directly, and total economic warfare was now something with which every industrial power had to reckon. The onset of the Depression in 1929 and the tariff war that broke out soon thereafter did nothing to assuage concern.

Securing the economic basis of the nation’s prosperity and power was among the foremost considerations of the interwar period for the rising powers. The status quo Powers were focused on maintaining the system as it existed; Britain had worked to focus on securing their overseas trade (though “imperial preference” did not materialize as state doctrine) and the United States was able to thrive for years with only domestic supplies of raw materials and an ever-expanding domestic marketplace (though this slowed considerably with the closing of the frontier in 1890). While not entirely self-sufficient, American and British (and to a lesser extent French) dominance of the global economy meant that their industries were relatively safe from international disruption. For the totalitarian states of the 1930s, however, the status quo meant perpetual weakness. Without directly challenging the Powers that controlled the world’s trade, there was little hope that they too could ensure their economic survival when it came under threat. They saw security in autarky, building empires that were beyond the reach of their rivals, empires that would stand the test of war.

Hitler saw both the strength and weakness of Germany in its continental position. In order to fulfill his vision of a secure Third Reich, he looked to establish a contiguous Eurasian empire, safe from the maritime dominance of the Royal Navy and the distant United States. The vast reaches of Soviet Russia held the key to Germany’s long-term economic security; Hitler viewed it as analogous to the way that the British looked to India as the cornerstone of their global empire (in Hitler’s own words, “Russia will be our India”), and drew heavily on American westward expansion in his conception as well. He knew that Germany must be able to feed its people, supply its factories and arm its soldiers if it were to resist the challenges that lay before it. Before colonization and settlement could occur, however, Germany’s continental rivals had to be eliminated as threats, and more vital resources secured. Only then could the building of a secure empire begin in earnest.

Japan, as an island state, held its naval strength as the first precondition of securing an empire that could feed its industry, but that introduced challenges of its own: a modern navy needed steel and oil in regular supply and prodigious quantities, neither of which Japan had. The push in to mainland Asia began early, with the Sino-Japanese War at the end of the 19th Century and the Russo-Japanese War in the first years of the 20th establishing Japan as the dominant regional power. But these were merely strategic maneuvers that facilitated acquisition of the the real prizes: the mineral and agricultural wealth of China. Beginning with the Manchuria Incident in 1931, and the invasion of China in 1937, Japan moved to actively secure access to the commodities increasingly vital to its industrial growth. The attack on the United States and Britain in December of 1941 was intended primarily to cover the drive to the south to secure the petroleum supplies of the Dutch East Indies, made all the more urgent by the disruption of oil supplies from America caused by the Roosevelt Administration’s increasing concern over Japan’s activities in China.

In both cases the conundrum is obvious: rising Powers must secure the resources they need to continue to grow, but in doing so they are very likely to threaten the interests of the existing Powers. This is particularly problematic in times of global economic difficulty, as well as when shortages of particularly important commodities loom. The Cold War saw very limited competition for most resources, and the peculiarity of the bipolar power structure rendered what competition there was relatively one-sided; for all the Western conflict with the Middle East during the Cold War, there was never any serious question as to which side was the more powerful, or that oil must continue to flow to Western markets. The self-imposed exclusion of the Soviet Union from much of the global economic system rendered inappropriate the experiences of traditional competitive relationships between Great Powers.

All that has changed. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the end of the Cold War, and the rise of China and India, the resurgence of Russia, and even the (ponderous) movement toward an actually unified European Union, the competitive nature of the international system looks poised to return with a vengeance. The only truly status quo Power remaining is the United States, and it is far less economically secure than it once was. Meanwhile, China is acquiring huge mining concerns in Australia and investing in African oil and Russia is leveraging its ample energy supplies for political advantage. Conflicts over the mineral wealth of such obscure places as the Spratly Islands (claimed by several Southeast Asian states as well as China, and thought to have significant oil deposits) are beginning to emerge as points of tension. Rising middle classes in developing states will demand greater access to manufactured goods, increasing economic pressures on their own governments as well as demand for production, and thus raw materials. Global economic development is not without risk; indeed, history suggests that the movement of states toward economic parity with the leading Powers will invariably lead to conflict. In difficult times, when there are more parties competing for limited supplies and limited markets, the pressure for success may escalate quickly and dramatically, as the alternative is not seen as anything short of existential national defeat.

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The Increasing Allure of Nukes

In Warfare on July 23, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , ,

Nuclear weapons are commonly viewed as the ultimate military capability that a state may possess. Those countries that have developed and constructed nuclear weapons, no matter how limited their numbers or capabilities might be, are set apart from those that have not in the calculations of leaders and foreign policy establishments charged with managing conflict. The possession of even a single functional device is often assumed to mark a quantum shift in that state’s global standing and military position. Yet if one looks beneath the surface and examines more carefully the realistic options available of nuclear-armed nations, the limitations are found to be quite significant for those countries with small, newly-developed nuclear arsenals. Indeed, minimal nuclear capability may in some ways serve to impose restrictions on policy options that might not otherwise be present while at the same time creating external pressures that might not otherwise develop. In the interest of understanding the strategic implications of states with limited nuclear capabilities on diplomacy and conflict, we must examine the effect of development on the state’s international relations, the conditions in which such weapons might be used, and what exactly can be expected from both their employment as well as mere possession.

Ascendancy to the small circle of nuclear-armed states brings with it considerably baggage. States which have developed their capabilities have done so either outside of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) or, if signatories, in direct contravention of it. Neither condition is likely to contribute to widespread support among the global community, at the very least introducing unwelcome complication, and opening the door to possible sanctions or other measures intended to punish the transgression. Naturally, this is likely to be haphazard and contingent upon the specific circumstances of the current balance of power; for example, the United States has made extraordinary efforts to assist India in normalizing their nuclear standing (thus making available to it civilian nuclear technology) in spite of that country’s nuclear program operating outside the NPT, with the U.S. intention being to strengthen diplomatic ties in the interest of longer-term security interests. It is of course much easier to overlook the violations of a potential ally half a world away than those of a known enemy or potential short-term rival.

Known nascent programs, such as Iran’s, are more likely to be targets of direct action, as the possibility of arresting the development prior to weaponization greatly simplifies the equation (though, with a nod to Clausewitz, one should not mistake simplicity for ease). Israeli strikes against the Iraqi and Syrian programs forestalled development of nuclear weapons in those countries, allowing Israel to maintain regional dominance in the nuclear arena, a cornerstone of her security strategy. In lieu of military action, stiff sanctions and other measures short of war may also be employed. If the state or coalition doing so are militarily dominant in relation to the nuclear aspirant, these efforts may be carried out in relative security (though not without consequence); in the face of a direct challenge, the aspiring nuclear power can be counted on to redouble its efforts in what amounts to a race to see if the sanctions can have a meaningful effect before the development process is completed. Even if it succeeds in building weapons, the costs of doing so under such external pressures will likely be severe. For all of these reasons, states seeking nuclear weapons have strong inducements to keep their programs secret for as long as possible.

The nuclear weapons themselves are only part of the equation; delivery systems must also be available if the state is to have meaningful nuclear capability. Surface-to-surface missiles are the most common method for delivery, as they have traditionally posed the greatest difficulty for defensive systems (though this is changing somewhat) and do not require the extensive air force capabilities necessary to contest air superiority in order to reliably deliver weapons to the target by that method. Submarine-launched missiles offer the most secure method of maintaining a nuclear force for both offensive and deterrent purposes, but this technology is not generally available to new nuclear powers. The range of whatever delivery systems are in use will dictate to a significant degree the extent to which the state will be able to employ (actively or passively) its nuclear weapons; conversely, states outside that range that may oppose the new nuclear state may increase the level of their resistance with relatively limited concern, though regional allies may find themselves more exposed.

Assuming a successful program, the newly-minted nuclear power will now have to determine what it may do with its new capabilities. To have acquired militarily-viable nuclear weapons, that is to say weapons that can be delivered effectively and reliably against relevant targets, is a significant achievement, but it is not the same as having an arsenal capable of offering the full gamut of nuclear strategic options. While a great deal of thought was dedicated to nuclear strategy during the Cold War, and some very useful theories and doctrines generated, little of this is relevant to a state with a handful of low- to medium-yield nuclear weapons, especially if its rivals have larger and more versatile nuclear arsenals.

The Cold War calculus applied to nuclear war incorporated such sophisticated approaches as counter-force and counter-value targeting, secure second-strike capability, and eventually mutually-assured destruction; for a state possessing perhaps a few dozen warheads, many of these options simply do not exist. Counter-force targeting, aimed at an opponent’s nuclear weapons, is not likely to be possible, especially if that opponent has dispersed their warheads and has multiple methods of delivery available. Counter-value strikes against cities, intended to raise the cost of fighting to unacceptable levels, are the only realistic option for the small nuclear power, and then only if its delivery systems have sufficient reach. Counter-value targeting works primarily as a deterrent, in effect holding an opponent’s population centers hostage as a guarantee against an attack. If, however, this option is exercised, the state will draw the wrath of both its opponent and likely that of a significant portion of the world community. Having expended even one weapon thusly is very likely to provoke retaliation on a scale it cannot hope to match. Lacking both sufficient first-strike capability to inflict catastrophic losses on an opponent and its allies (while casualties and costs would be massive, catastrophic loss must be defined here as sufficient to persistently obstruct the ability of a state to function economically, politically, and militarily), and sufficient survivable second-strike capability to deter massive retaliation for limited nuclear first use, mutually-assured destruction does not apply in this case. In effect, then, any use, and particularly first-use, of nuclear weapons by a small nuclear power against another nuclear power would very likely amount to self-assured destruction.

If first-use against another nuclear power is simple suicide, it must be inferred that the possession of nuclear weapons is viewed as a primarily defensive measure to be held as a final reserve to prevent existential national defeat, or that they are intended to attain dominance over non-nuclear rivals. The logic of the former case is self-evident, if fatalistic: a government facing obliteration in a non-nuclear contest may attempt to forestall the result by escalating the conflict in order to so dramatically increase the cost to its opponent that unconditional surrender or regime change become less attractive than simply ending the conflict, or simply to reap final vengeance on an otherwise-victorious rival. Obviously such an approach is extremely high-risk, but for a state in extremis this risk is no greater than accepting otherwise inevitable defeat. If a state is the first in a region to seek nuclear weapons, doing so will probably trigger a race by regional rivals to develop arsenals of their own in the interest of maintaining the balance of power. This has been seen most notably in the acquisition of nuclear weapons by India and Pakistan, and previously in the early years of the Cold War. If the regional rivals succeed in building viable nuclear arsenals of broadly similar size and capability, the result may in fact be ultimately stabilizing; the possibility of a nuclear exchange has historically had the effect of causing leaders to willingly limit conflict so as to minimize the risk of escalation. The proliferation of weapons to additional states, however, must nonetheless mathematically increase the chance that they will be used.

We must infer then that those states that acquire nuclear weapons perceive a threat significant enough to endanger the existence of the government, and that the threat is compelling enough to offset the diplomatic and economic costs involved with development. Once acquired, nuclear weapons are only of practical value if they can be used to intimidate non-nuclear opponents, or to prevent nuclear-capable rivals from taking action. The possession of roughly equal nuclear arsenals will likely act to reduce the chances of all-out war between rival states, as neither will be willing to risk the costs of either first-use or being the victim of a first-strike, given that both will be restricted to counter-value targeting strategy. The moment of greatest danger for the nuclear aspirant, then, is the period between the decision to develop nuclear weapons and the point at which they become operational, when vulnerability to both nuclear and non-nuclear opponents peaks because they may seek to disrupt the effort before it succeeds. For non-nuclear rivals of a newly nuclear-capable state, the risk persists for as long as the imbalance remains. This of course encourages them to develop nuclear capability of their own, or to at least build stable alliances with nuclear powers. The inevitable conclusion is that, in lieu of a strong and reliable nuclear partner, states facing potential regional nuclear rivals will seek such capability of their own. During the Cold War, the presence of two nuclear superpowers made alliance with one or the other the preferred option for the vast majority of states. In the increasingly divided multipolar global system, however, with power becoming more diffuse and shared more equally among more states, governments are ever more likely to perceive that they must look after their own security, as the threats multiply and alliances become less stable. For all its drawbacks, indigenous nuclear capability provides, if nothing else, reasonable assurance that the regime will not be destroyed from without, and this alone is enough to make it increasingly desirable in a dangerous and uncertain world.


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We’d like to help, really we would, but…

In Diplomacy on July 9, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , ,

Recent candid comments by the Ambassador of the United Arab Emirates to the United States first reported by the Washington Times have shown that the problem of a nuclear-armed Iran is very much on the minds of other nations in the region, backpedaling and official “clarifying” statements to the contrary notwithstanding. The ambassador’s statement was not formal, which explains its unusual clarity and directness. Simply put, he indicated that a military strike might be necessary in order to halt Iranian nuclear development. In no uncertain terms that he recognized that there would be blowback in the form of economic, social and political pressure, but that all of these short-term issues were less dangerous than the long-term threat posed by a nuclear Iran, calling it the result of a “cost-benefit analysis.”

The problem here is not support for a strike from Persian Gulf nations; it is quite likely that, behind closed doors, there are few leaders in the region who would be even remotely troubled by a strike against Iran’s nuclear facilities. The calculus is the same: Which is more dangerous in the long-term – a strike against Iran, or a nuclear-armed Iran? No country in the Gulf region wants to see Iran take such an enormous step toward becoming a hegemonic power, and they are likely to accept that there is little that can stop them short of a military strike or sanctions so onerous that they would probably provoke an Iranian military response.

The real difficulty is that there are very few countries capable of conducting such a strike, no matter how necessary it is deemed. The United States and Israel would have the best chances, as each has a modern air force in the region capable of conducting a complex attack under difficult conditions. The Russians might be able to pull it off but have virtually no motivation to do so, and the British, French and Germans have the technology but not the numbers, regional presence or political will. The firestorm created by an Israeli strike would be tremendous, and would very likely cause Israel to face a major increase in terrorist activity from Iran’s Hamas and Hezbollah proxies in Gaza and Lebanon respectively. The simple fact is that, should the U.N. Security Council resolve tomorrow to destroy Iran’s nuclear program by force, everyone at the table would turn to the U.S. Ambassador.

Thus the U.S. seems once again to be the first, last and only resort. Most of the leaders in the Persian Gulf probably secretly hope the U.S. will simply do the deed and get it over with. This is their ideal set of circumstances: Iran’s power is diminished, the regional balance is restored, and the U.S. gets blamed for everything, allowing them the flexibility to manage popular discontent in their own countries. One hopes that American policy-makers are cognizant of how this scenario would play out; their reluctance to act more directly suggests that they are.

Yet American reticence and the inability of virtually every other interested country to carry out their own attack means that the Iranian program is able to continue. Increasingly strict financial sanctions against Iran and companies that deal with it will no doubt complicate Iranian planning, but as long as the world petroleum market provides an outlet for Iranian oil, resources to continue will be available. American efforts to build support in the U.N. are doomed to limited success, as the Russians and particularly the Chinese have too much to gain by staying on Iran’s good side; attempts to build a formal regional coalition to oppose Iran seem to be non-existent. Time is on the side of the Iranians, and the longer the crisis builds without strong direct opposition, the greater the chance that Iran will be able to successfully construct a weapon before the U.S. can move to stop it.

That leaves the Israelis, who are truly the wild card in this situation. There is little doubt that Israel regards a nuclear-armed Iran as nothing short of a mortal threat. How far are the Israelis willing to let Iran progress before they determine that they can wait no longer? One suspects that the Mossad is funneling support to the Iranian opposition movement, the Kurds, and any other group that might create trouble for the Iranian government, but suggesting that this alone could forestall the nuclear program smacks of desperation and wishful thinking of the first order. If Israel strikes, it will do so because it is doing the same exact calculations that led to the conclusions mentioned by the U.A.E. ambassador; the only difference being that Israel, unlike every other country in the region, can actually do something about threat posed by Iran.

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Reading Between the Lines in Asia

In Diplomacy on June 30, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , ,

Asia represents perhaps the best current example of a region in which rising powers are competing with each other as well as the existing powers for increased influence and power in a convoluted web of diplomacy. This behavior is not at all unfamiliar to those who have studied diplomatic history, but for those uninitiated in the twists and turns of competitive peacetime diplomacy in an anarchic world system it might seem that the countries involved were trying to make things as confusing (and thus unstable) as possible. Further, the dots of individual policies might seem so diffuse and without clear direction as to be impossible to connect. Yet connections may be inferred; it is these first threads of linkage between behavior and possible outcome that underpin the development of long-range strategic policy. While strategy always relies upon prediction and speculation, these are not applied without basis, at least by responsible practitioners.

Witness the developments of the last few days in East and Central Asia. The Economist reports that China has agreed to supply Pakistan with two additional nuclear reactors for its existing Chasma facility. (The Economist, The Power of Nightmares, 24 Jun 2010) With Pakistan being a non-signatory of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and already possessing nuclear weapons, as well as having an extensive history of proliferation and significant links to radical Islam, this is obviously of concern, particularly to India, Pakistan’s major regional rival. India, also a nuclear-armed power outside the NPT, is now engaged in preliminary discussions with both Japan and South Korea to expand its nuclear facilities, according to the Wall Street Journal. (The Wall Street Journal, Japan and India Launch Talks on Civilian Nuclear Pact, 29 Jun 2010) While there are legitimate energy needs to be met by nuclear power in both countries, these moves come too close together and raise too many questions to be simple coincidence.

China’s willingness to assist Pakistan is nothing new – it has provided arms in the past, as well as nuclear technology and even a nuclear warhead design. China views Pakistan as a useful client state that helps to balance India (China’s biggest regional rival in South Asia) and, indirectly, the United States (China’s biggest global rival). China is not particularly concerned about nuclear proliferation among Middle Eastern states or even Islamic radicals, as it appears to operate on the Machiavellian assumption that there are other powers that will suffer more from these developments, perhaps allowing China room to maneuver diplomatically.

Japan’s possession of peaceful nuclear technology has long been considered not only safe from domestic weaponization (opposition to nuclear weapons is understandably high among the Japanese people), but also from proliferation beyond its borders. Japan has had a strict policy of refusing to export nuclear technology to non-signatories to the NPT; the discussions with India vigorously cast aside that policy. Not only is India not a member of the NPT, but it has produced and tested nuclear weapons outside of it. Why has Japan suddenly altered its position, and why is it choosing to help India?

Part of the answer is mundane: the Indian market for energy is lucrative and growing, and the Japanese see opportunity. The willingness of South Korea to assist the Indians has only increased the market pressures on Japan to relax its nuclear policies. This alone, however, seems rather weak as the sole explanation for such a radical ideological shift.

The strategic calculus involved is somewhat complex, but when considered it provides a stronger rationale for Japan’s rather sudden change of heart. Both Japan and South Korea are very concerned by China’s rise. Neither is capable of containing China on their own; China’s population is too big and its economy and military too large for either to confront directly. The United States has taken a very weak position on China’s growing power, accepting it in no small part due to the huge amount of U.S. debt that China buys; Japan and South Korea rightly fear that the U.S. may not be willing (or in fact able) to act assertively to protect their interests when they come into conflict with those of the Chinese. Thus both recognize that they must seek to protect their own interests and balance China by cultivating additional strategic alliances: India is the obvious choice for such a relationship.

India and China are major rivals in Southeast Asia, economically and diplomatically. While China’s industrialization and economic development is more advanced than India’s, India has made considerable strides and looks poised to continue, particularly in the information technology field. In current policy as much as reputation, India’s democratic government is considered less threatening than totalitarian China’s, affording India some advantage in dealing with other governments. Both compete for influence in such economically and strategically important countries as Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Vietnam. China’s aggressive attempts to penetrate these markets are increasingly seen as economic imperialism, while the region’s policymakers are all too aware that China’s military could easily dominate the region if the U.S. Navy’s presence were reduced.

China’s naval build-up has been going on for some time, but India too has been attempting to increase its naval power, most notably by developing a useful aircraft carrier force, the centerpiece of a blue-water navy capable of conventional power projection ever since the Second World War. While there is no joy at the prospect of India eventually becoming a regional hegemon or any sort of major armed conflict breaking out in the region, the idea of India rising to meet the primary challenge of the moment – a hegemonic China – is likely to be quietly welcomed in capitals from Tokyo and Seoul to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.

The nuclear deals with Pakistan and India are all part of the ongoing diplomatic maneuvering. Selective nuclear proliferation has long been used as a tool to bind alliances together more tightly, and to offset the rising power of rivals both directly and indirectly. China is trying to maintain its advantage over India, Japan and South Korea; Japan and South Korea are trying to balance China; Pakistan and India are seeking advantage in their own more localized rivalry, and are happy for the possibilities offered by the broader regional situation. Nuclear technology is one of the few things that the more developed powers can offer those nations whose assistance they seek; as noted, Pakistan and India both have burgeoning energy needs, and China, Japan, and South Korea otherwise have little to offer in this regard. The secondary possibilities – in this case, weapons falling into the hands of Islamic terrorists or technology into the hands of other states that seek nuclear capabilities outside the region – are too vague and too remote to receive significant value in the calculation.

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Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere Redux? (Part Two)

In Economics on June 22, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , , , ,

As noted in Part One of this topic, the rise of China as well as other powers in the western Pacific and Indian Oceans has sufficiently compelling parallels to the rise of Imperial Japan in the first half of the 20th Century that it may be instructive to revisit Japan’s ascent to power, culminating in its drive toward a regional maritime empire it euphemistically called the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere. This entity did not simply spring from the minds of Japan’s leadership, but was in fact heavily influenced by outside thought and experience, especially of and with the two predominant maritime powers of the era: Great Britain and the United States. In particular, the work of U.S. naval officer Alfred Thayer Mahan is known to have provided much of inspiration behind the Japanese strategy underpinning its rise to power. That Mahan’s ideas are gaining traction with the strategic planners of today’s rising Asian powers lends further credence to the relevance of Japan’s example.

Japan was introduced to Mahan’s seminal work with its translation into Japanese in 1896; many of his later works were translated as well. Mahan’s book was viewed as a blueprint for national greatness through naval expansion, with a battleship fleet providing the means to secure the colonies, bases, and lines of communication necessary to achieve this triumph. Indeed, this is largely what Mahan had intended, though his intended audience clearly was not Japan; the United States had begun to look outward for a variety of reasons – the closing of the frontier, domestic overproduction, concerns over European imperialism – and Mahan felt it must not merely look, but take a sufficiently active position as to be able to develop its commercial interests, and to create a fleet strong enough to protect them. The Japanese were impressed by arguments that seemed to apply as much to their own situation as to America’s, even though Mahan would have argued against this assertion. Key officers in the Japanese Navy were sent to Britain and the United States to study the new ideas underpinning what came to be known as navalism, and they returned to Japan to instruct their fellow officers through lectures and books of their own. These officers thus spread the gospel of Mahan not only to much of the naval officer corps, but to members of the government, industry and other influential citizens, inexorably intertwining Mahan with the general arguments in favor of expansion and naval procurement.

The First World War brought another important lesson that dovetailed nicely with the Japanese interpretation of Mahan’s teachings. In a long war, economic warfare could prove vital; the experiences of Great Britain and Germany showed that naval blockades, whether using traditional methods of boarding and inspecting merchant vessels for contraband or attacking them directly using a combination of open-sea raiders and the highly effective new technology of the submarine, could have a significant, if not decisive, impact on the outcome. Germany’s severe shortages of warmaking material, consumer commodities and foodstuffs by 1918, and Britain and France’s utter reliance on support from the U.S. as the war dragged on, demonstrated beyond a doubt to Japanese planners that only self-sufficient nations could hope to survive in the worst case scenario of a long war without proximate allies. Autarky became a vital element of Japanese industrial policy, but it was acknowledged that Japan – a nation hopelessly poor in most industrial commodities – could not achieve this without an overseas empire.

It is unsurprising then that the growth of the Japanese economy based on its industrial strength and its exports was concurrent with greater calls for measures to ensure continued economic development and security. What was needed to attain this seemed to be clear: acquiring productive resource-rich colonies, gaining control of key strategic positions to protect them, and building a navy strong enough to secure both. The 1922 Five-Power Naval Treaty that emerged from the Washington Conference, with its restrictions on Japan’s fleet building, was acquiesced to in no small part because the United States agreed to a nonfortification clause that gave Japan de facto control of the western Pacific. Despite concerns among some in Japan that the restrictions on fleet building would compromise her security, the Five-Power Treaty must be considered far more beneficial to Japan’s security interests than those of the United States, her principal rival in the Pacific. This may be evidenced by the fact that U.S. naval officers denounced the treaty as having undermined their service’s global mission (as defined by Mahan); U.S. Navy planners spent the rest of the decade working on ways to resolve the problem of war with Japan (considered a strong possibility since the beginning of the century) in light of the new limitations.

The ability to act as the dominant regional power in the western Pacific gave Japan the chance to begin the process of imperial acquisition. Beginning with the taking of Manchuria in 1931, and already controlling the important Korean peninsula and numerous islands in the southwestern Pacific (gained at Germany’s expense during the First World War, and tellingly identified by Mahan at that time as posing a serious concern to U.S. Pacific interests), Japanese policymakers, increasingly influenced by the competing leadership of the Army and the Navy, moved toward what they believed to be the Mahanian-dictated path to national greatness.

Yet it failed; Japan did not develop the increasingly stable, prosperous and defensible empire that it sought. Instead, the problem of securing resources sufficient to meet both industrial demands and the construction and operational requirements of the increasingly large naval contingent meant that Japan became increasingly desperate as its leaders realized that gaining the territory required to attain self-sufficiency would generate active opposition from Japan’s main trading partner and rival, the United States. The embargoes and financial measures taken by the U.S. in the years before Pearl Harbor reinforced the perceived requirement for creating an autarkic Japanese empire while making it harder to achieve, as the needs of the navy for steel and oil continued to increase as the U.S. threat loomed larger. American restrictions on petroleum and steel exports – put in place to protest Japanese actions in China – pushed the Japanese toward a point at which supplies of these vital commodities would run out, long before imperial territory could be extended and exploited to make up the shortfall. Rather than wait for the inevitable, the Japanese struck out for oil reserves of the Dutch East Indies, while following Mahan’s doctrine of decisive battle by concurrently attempting to knock out the only forces that could stop them, and the bases from which they would operate: the Royal Navy at Singapore, the “Gibraltar of the Pacific,” and the United States Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, along with U.S. bases in the Philippines.

What went wrong? Simply put, Japan’s reading of Mahan was flawed. Japan’s devotees of Mahan’s ideas believed that a maritime empire and a strong navy were the keys to survival because they allowed the imperial power to control the resources it needed to succeed; they saw the global dominance of the British Empire demonstrated in The Influence of Sea Power upon History as an irrefutable example of this. Yet Mahan’s argument was as much about British success as it was about French failure; failure to concentrate on a maritime policy, failure to recognize the meaning of British commercial and naval strength, failure to see the dangers inherent in concentrating on the Continent. The Japanese would have done well to consider this.

While Britain was forced to be a maritime power by geography, France had a choice; in Mahan’s view, it was so indecisive in this as to give Britain de facto control over the vital seas while rendering itself unnecessarily vulnerable to commercial isolation and military impotence against its primary rival. Where Britain’s empire was remote and diffuse and her main rival close, Japan sought a regional empire and faced a distant rival; while this might seem to offer greater security, in fact the inability to restrain the United States by bottling up its merchant shipping and naval forces as Britain had those of France meant that Japan would face a far greater challenge, as Britain did in those instances where France’s navy was met in open seas rather than confined to its ports.

Britain’s maritime power was based on a large and active commercial fleet that provided what Mahan considered a necessary pre-condition for naval power; both Mahan’s France and Imperial Japan had far smaller commercial fleets, a condition that would contribute to the precariousness of their respective strategic positions rather than provide support for the navies needed to protect them. An array of sources for imports and markets for exports, within the Empire and without, gave Britain a commercial advantage that neither France nor Japan came close to matching. American sanctions against Japan further reduced her already limited commercial potential, further weakening the foundation on which her navy was being constructed, as no viable imperial alternative to this trade existed.

The considerably reduced material and technical requirements for the construction of wooden sailing ships when compared with 20th vessels meant that neither France nor Britain faced the severe problems encountered by the Japanese navy in constructing their fleet. While it is true that Mahan’s turn of the century American audience also had to meet the needs of modern technology, the U.S. had more than adequate supplies of the industrial commodities necessary, rendering the earlier conditions of the two European powers far more relevant than they were to Japan, to which fleet construction became a strategic objective itself, reversing Mahan’s order and perverting his logic.

Britain needed to commit few resources to her army, as the presence of the Royal Navy, the “wooden walls of Britain,” rendered Britain secure regardless of the size of the armies of her Great Power rivals, while France was forced to face them on the Continent; by the time Japan sought her empire, she too was forced to face the Great Powers not only at sea but on land, as well as the comparatively limitless manpower of Great Power-supported China, if she hoped to gain the territory she needed.

In short, despite outward appearances and the perceived universality of the doctrines espoused in The Influence of Sea Power upon History, Japan met few of the criteria set out by Mahan. Thus when it set out to construct a maritime empire, an act which would necessarily challenge the United States – a nation far better suited to succeed in attaining Mahan’s vision of global strength – it did so with a deeply flawed strategy that misunderstood the tenets of one of its primary influences. In light of this, the outcome was hardly surprising.

The objective of the final part of this discussion will be to identify the relevance of Mahan’s ideas to the situation in East Asia today, and specifically to determine if the rising powers there – primarily China, but also India – are similarly misinterpreting these ideas, and what this in turn means for the United States and other powers that will be forced to accommodate or confront these powers.

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Ottoman Redux

In Diplomacy on June 11, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , ,

Recent events suggest that Turkey’s government has determined that the country’s future lies not with Europe, but in the Middle East. This is a major change in strategic direction, one which marks a return to the nation’s traditional orientation after an interlude of almost a century begun by the Western-leaning Mustafa Kemal Ataturk in 1922. When one considers how much the political geography surrounding Turkey has changed in those years, and the conditions it currently faces, this change is perhaps less the result of obvious popular pressures than it is a tacit acknowledgment that the nation now has more to gain from a return to a traditional eastward policy focus.

Consider the situation facing Turkey at the time of the formation of the modern republic: after over a century as the “sick man of Europe,” the Ottoman Empire had been slowly shedding the territory accumulated in the wake of its explosive 15th and 16th Century growth. Pressured from all sides, the Ottomans had surrendered control of Egypt to the British, Libya to the Italians, and much of the Balkans to the Austro-Hungarian Empire and numerous smaller claimants. It was very much an empire in the final throes of its decline; the disastrous experience of the First World War simply hastened its demise. The end of the war brought further turmoil, as Turkey itself was invaded by nations seeking to expand their reach into the eastern Mediterranean at her expense, most notably Greece. It was not until 1922, and not without significant foreign intervention, that Turkey proper was once again under its own control.

Yet the war also fundamentally altered the strategic situation in which Turkey found itself. Prior to the war, the Ottoman government was unable to focus on any one strategic direction, as it was pressed on all sides: the Russian Czar was her traditional rival to the north, always pushing toward the vital straits; to the east and south, the needs of empire demanded constant attention as the Sultan tried to maintain control of his crumbling domains; to the west, small states motivated to conquest by the rising tide of nationalism in Europe only added to the threat posed by the powerful empires that pressed incessantly against Ottoman borders.

While defeat in the war caused the final collapse of the Ottoman Empire, the new state that rose from its ashes found itself the beneficiary of circumstances that facilitated a new, far more focused political direction. Gone were many of the traditional concerns that plagued sultan after sultan: the empire, much of which was both indefensible and unprofitable, had been forcibly taken by the war’s victors; the Middle East was divided up by the British and the French, while the Balkan territories of both Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian Empires were cobbled together into a new state – Yugoslavia. Russia was convulsed by revolution and civil war beginning in 1917, with the Bolsheviks only consolidating power fully in 1922, and even then commanding a backward and broken state that would take decades to regain its influence beyond its own borders. In other words, Turkey was free to choose her political and strategic orientation for the first time since the Ottomans conquered the unconquerable city of Constantinople in 1453.

Under Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the new state looked west. It was perfectly logical in light of the circumstances: Who had won the war? The British, and the French, and the Americans. Which powers were able to control their own vast empires in ways the Ottomans could only have dreamed about, and to project their influence anywhere they chose? The empires that had at their hearts great industrial strength. Even before the war, the Turks had looked enviously west – they brought in first French and later German military advisors, and purchased rifles and artillery from the Germans and battleships from the British – but saddled with the baggage of empire, they were forced to look from afar. With this crushing weight removed decisively, the new Turkish state would be able to reform itself using the most successful of the Great Powers as her models.

The problem inherent in this conception was simple: even as the Turks sought to embrace the West, the West looked askance at the upstart Turks, thinking it virtually impossible that a nation born of an empire that could be argued to have had decline as its single most defining characteristic was now going to become a modern state. Further, regardless of Ataturk’s secularizing efforts, Turkey remained a Muslim nation, and in a world still dominated by self-consciously Christian powers, Turkey would always be too exotic, too foreign, and too archaic to be considered a part of the modern world by those who defined it.

This conception of Turkey is little changed today. Turkish efforts to join the European Union have been stalled for years as Europe tries to reconcile its public pronouncements on the value of diversity with the idea of including a state that is, perhaps, a bit “too diverse” for European tastes. Recent controversies over the wearing of Islamic headscarves (France) and the building of minarets (Switzerland) further illustrate that Europe’s willingness to accept Muslim influences into its ostensibly open society is still far from absolute (politically correct protestations notwithstanding).

After banging its collective head into the proverbial wall presented by European intransigence, it should come as no surprise that the Turks have begun to have second thoughts about whether they should be putting all their efforts into joining the West while continuing to turn their backs on the other regions surrounding them. The recent change in Turkish policy focus is not simply based on frustration, however; it is in fact a clear acknowledgement of something the Europeans themselves are not quite ready to accept: the dominance of Europe and the West is ebbing, and Turkey has more strategic options of economic and political alignment than ever before. The end of the Cold War and the relative decline of naval power as the primary measure of national power has reduced the Russian threat to the Straits while opening up the Turkic states of Central Asia to Turkish influence and significantly reducing the need for a Western alliance. The decline in direct Western influence in the Middle East offers Turkey a chance to once again become a dominant force in the region. Even the rise of distant regional powers like China, India, and Brazil creates possibilities for strategic maneuver that would have been utterly unthinkable when the republic was born.

Combined with useful side-effect of reducing domestic Islamist tensions, Turkish leaders have determined that opposing the West may be a more lucrative path that continuing to stand around waiting for it to finally open the gate. Recent events have shown that the Turkish government is becoming more vocal in its attempts to extend its influence in the region. While diminished, Turkey geographic position is still strategically vital with respect to the eastern Mediterranean and the Middle East. While it is not at all likely that Turkey will be able to challenge for regional hegemony (Israel, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Iran are each too strong and willing to resist such a move), its influence will probably continue to increase, while the influence of the West on it will decline. The Ottoman Empire was for at least the last 150 years of its existence reduced to being a small fish in the big pond of the Great Powers; the 20th Century forced the new Turkish state to continue on in this relationship with the West. Now, however, Turkey is recalling fondly that it was once a big fish in a smaller, regional pond, a situation to which – for the first time in several hundred years – it is now poised to return.

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New Sanctions on Iran. Again.

In Economics on June 9, 2010 by AEG Tagged: , , , ,

With yet another round of U.S.-backed sanctions adopted by the U.N., the fiction that something meaningful is being done to curb Iran’s nuclear ambitions continues. The loud protestations of Iranian president Ahmadinejad further enhance the illusion that these sanctions might actually have an effect. Despite the outward appearance of action, it is not the United Nations nor the United States that is determining the pace and course of events; it is the Iranians who hold the strategic initiative and are able to manipulate the situation to their best advantage. The Iranians have learned a lot about how to effectively oppose the United States by evaluating the experiences of those that have done so before. There are four vital concepts they have learned from history, and, in combination with a clear set of strategic objectives, they are applying these to good effect in the current situation. The West, by contrast, has not developed the sort of sophisticated appreciation of the strategic situation in the Persian Gulf that is necessary to effectively counter Iran’s efforts to dominate the region, nor does it appear to have considered how the Iranian leadership might view the lessons of recent history.

First, Iran’s government understands that the biggest ally they have when dealing with a hostile Western government is time; simply hold out for a few years and the people will lose interest, or grow tired of the effort, or the leaders will change. Even if the new leadership appears overtly hostile, the shift buys time for opponents to maneuver, and public hostility serves to reinforce the raison d’etre of the regime. North Vietnam played this game with the U.S. and the French and won. If the new Western leadership offers an olive branch, the opportunities to gain expand, as the typical form of such an offer involves financial or material support in exchange for promises to desist from certain behaviors. Of course, no mechanism actually capable of enforcing these promises can be included, but this is easily avoided by insisting that trust must be demonstrated by both parties. North Korea has managed to manipulate several American administrations this way, accepting aid while breaking the unenforceable agreements made in exchange for it. Each new U.N. secretary general and U.S. president seems to believe that they can make the North Koreans comply; it has not happened yet, for the simple reason that the leaders of the North are far better off in their current circumstances.

This raises a second important point that Western leaders (and the U.N. leadership in included in this, as the organization is fundamentally Western in its objectives) have failed to understand, but of which the Iranians are very much cognizant: peace is not an end in and of itself. The West does not appear grasp that the sort of settlement they propose would badly weaken the Iranian government; after all, why would the Iranian people support an oppressive regime unless it was the only thing keeping their enemies at bay? Totalitarian governments learned long ago that external enemies are vital to maintaining their hold on power (see George Kennan’s “Sources of Soviet Conduct” for a highly cogent discussion of this). More disturbingly, it is possible that some Western leaders actually do realize that their proposals would undermine the Iranian leadership, but somehow think that the Iranians will accept them anyway. Given that the U.S., the rest of the major Western democracies, and the U.N. are collectively the least Machiavellian political entities in the world, it is entirely possible that such delusion exists at the highest levels. This sort of misapprehension suggests that utopian optimism, expressed in the assumption that all the world seeks free markets, openness and democracy, is still the predominant characteristic in Western strategy. The Iranians would likely reject this assertion.

More recent history has demonstrated to Iran a third simple truth: nations without nuclear weapons may be attacked with relative impunity; those with nuclear weapons can survive indefinitely. This is an oversimplification of the strategic value of limited nuclear capability, but the positive example of North Korea is once again in the forefront, along with the counterpoints starkly provided by Iraq and Afghanistan (both of which of course border Iran). Here Iran has gone to great lengths to avoid the enforcement of non-proliferation as applied to Iraq and Syria in 1981 and 2007 respectively by the Israeli Air Force, burying its facilities in hardened underground complexes and dispersing them widely. The result is a more survivable program, one which is likely to be more survivable than any military weapons it might produce (surreptitiously-delivered weapons are another matter). The value of these weapons is strictly as a deterrent, but this raises obvious questions about first-use, particularly against countries like Israel or the United States, both of which have large nuclear arsenals. In the end, the deterrent value of nuclear weapons to Iran is likely to be considerably less than its leaders think – nonetheless, any factor that complicates the strategic calculations of its opponents is viewed positively, and nuclear capability certainly accomplishes that goal.

Finally, there is the question of sanctions themselves. The current Iranian regime has been subject to international sanctions of various sorts virtually since its inception in 1979. The fact that the government not only still exists, but has in fact consolidated its hold on power in the intervening years suggests that the sanctions have not achieved their purposes, whatever they might be. The watered-down nature of sanctions regimes developed as the result of a collective process certainly does not help to create real pressure. The fact remains, however, that there have always been countries willing to trade with Iran despite the sanctions, and the unwillingness of those applying the sanctions to unilaterally enforce them (when this is even possible) has been one of the few consistent elements in the Western effort.

The problems underlying Western sanctions efforts are easy to explain: the sanctions applied against Iran (and most other nations that have been subjected to similar treatment) have often been without specific purpose, and even when they have had a direction (as in the case of nuclear technology), they have been too weak to actually compel changes in behavior and have not been effectively enforced. Here again Western understanding is at odds with the strategic realities of history. Sanctions have historically worked (i.e., forced a change in behavior on the part of the country subject to them) only when they have caused consequences so damaging that to continue to exist under them was even more distasteful than complying with the wishes of those who implemented them. There are very few examples of sanctions working in that fashion; the fall of South Africa’s apartheid regime (which, it should be noted, had and voluntarily gave up indigenously-produced nuclear weapons) might be one of the best recent examples, and certainly the one that offers hope to proponents of sanctions as a peaceful means to alter an undesirable situation.

History offers another, considerably less desirable example, however: it was in large part the effectiveness of American sanctions against Japan in 1940-1 that led that government to conclude that it had to act decisively to protect its national interest or surrender to the will of its opponent. It is the potential of a similar outcome in the Middle East that strikes fear in the hearts of Western leaders; ironically, it is knowledge of this fear that the Iranians have used so successfully to avoid becoming the target of more direct action. Franklin Roosevelt’s government recognized that Japan had to be stopped before it became a regional hegemon in East Asia, too entrenched and too powerful to stop without enormous cost, if it could be stopped at all. The current governments of the West do not seem to appreciate that the rise of Iran to similar hegemonic status in the Persian Gulf would be every bit as dangerous to their strategic interests, if not moreso.