When the Stakes Are High: Deterrence and Conflict among Major Powers

When the Stakes Are High When the Stakes Are High Deterrence and Conflict among Major Powers Vesna Danilovic The Un...

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When the Stakes Are High

When the Stakes Are High Deterrence and Conflict among Major Powers

Vesna Danilovic

The University of Michigan Press Ann Arbor

Copyright © by the University of Michigan 2002 All rights reserved Published in the United States of America by The University of Michigan Press Manufactured in the United States of America c Printed on acid-free paper 2005

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Danilovic, Vesna, [date] When the stakes are high : deterrence and conflict among major powers / Vesna Danilovic. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-472-11287-2 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Balance of power—History. 2. World politics. 3. International relations. 4. Security, International. I. Title. JZ1313 .D36 2002 327.1'6—dc21

2002006743

For my mom, Jela Danilovic´

Contents

List of Figures

ix

List of Tables

xi

Preface

xiii

Part I

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Introduction Major Powers and Global Contenders Deterrence and Con›ict

3 26 47

Part II

Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Balance of Power and Power Shifts: Global Interests at Stake Credibility and Geopolitics: Regional Interests at Stake Resolve and Domestic Costs: Internal Interests at Stake

71 98 124

Part III

Chapter 7. Chapter 8.

Predicting Major Power Con›icts: High Stakes or Costly Signals? Theoretical and Policy Implications

143 163

Appendixes

Appendix A. Case Summaries and Sources Appendix B. Conceptual and Operational Rules for Major Powers Appendix C. Sources and Data for Colonial Possessions and Foreign Trade Appendix D. Questions of Statistical Analysis and Discrete Choice Models

183 225 231 236

Notes

245

References

259

Index

281

Figures

3.1. General and Immediate Deterrence 3.2. Extended-Immediate Deterrence 4.1. COW National Capability Index of Major Powers, 1895–1985 4.2. COW Military Power Index of Major Powers, 1895–1985 4.3. COW Economic Power Index of Major Powers, 1895–1985 4.4. Gross Domestic Product of Major Powers, 1895–1985 6.1. A Joint Domestic Regime Effect on the Probability of Defender’s Acquiescence 6.2. A Joint Domestic Regime Effect on the Probability of Challenger’s Acquiescence 6.3. A Joint Domestic Regime Effect on the Probability of Compromise 6.4. A Joint Domestic Regime Effect on the Probability of War

55 57 90 91 91 92 137 137 138 138

Tables

2.1. Relative Shares of Major Powers in Total World Manufacturing Output 2.2. GDP Growth 2.3. Total Land Areas of Major Powers (Home Area, Colonies, and Mandates) as Percentage of World Surface 2.4. Relative Shares of Major Powers in Total World Trade 2.5. Major Powers and Global Contenders, 1895–1985 3.1. General Deterrence Failure/No Immediate Deterrence, Major Powers, 1895–1985 3.2. The Cases of Extended-Immediate Deterrence among Major Powers, 1895–1985 3.3. The Cases of Direct-Immediate Deterrence between Major Powers, 1895–1985 4.1. Percentage Distribution of the COW National Capability Index among Major Powers, 1895–1985 4.2. Descriptive Statistics for Relative Capabilities 4.3. The Impact of Relative Power on Deterrence Outcomes for All Major Powers, Multinomial Logit Models 4.4. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes for All Major Powers 4.5. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes for Global Contenders 5.1. Geopolitical Regions: Classi‹cation and Composition 5.2. Descriptive Statistics for Regional Salience in General Deterrence Failures 5.3. The Impact of Regional Interests on the Onset of Extended-Immediate Deterrence, Binomial Logit Coef‹cients 5.4. The Impact of Regional Interests on Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 5.5. Predicted Probabilities of Deterrence Outcomes 6.1. Descriptive Statistics for the Domestic Regime Variable

30 30 32 34 46 62 66 68 89 93 94 95 96 113 119

120 122 123 134

xii

Tables

6.2. Domestic Regime and Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 6.3. Joint Regime Effects on the Probabilities of Deterrence Outcomes 7.1. The Impact of Regional Interests and Relative Power on the Onset of Extended-Immediate Deterrence 7.2. The Inherent Credibility Model of Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 7.3. The Impact of Regional Interests, Relative Power, and Domestic Regime on the Onset of ExtendedImmediate Deterrence 7.4. The Expanded Inherent Credibility Model of Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 7.5. Predicted Probabilities from the Expanded Inherent Credibility Model 7.6. Descriptive Statistics for Past Behavior and Costly Signals 7.7. A Comparison of the Defender’s Past and Current Behavior 7.8. The Impact of Past Behavior and Costly Signals on Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 7.9. The Model of Intraregional Past Behavior, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 7.10. Marginal Impact of Past Behavior on the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes 7.11. The Full Model of Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coef‹cients 7.12. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes: Relative Potential of All Variables in Predicting Major Power Con›icts B1. The Lists of Major Powers, 1895–current B2. The Lists of Global Contenders, 1895–current C1. Regional Distributions of Colonies C2. Regional Distributions of Foreign Trade

135 135 147 149

151 151 153 156 157 157 159 159 161

162 229 229 233 234

Preface

The premise of this book is that major powers have continually played a decisive role in international con›icts. Since the most precarious and quite common form of dispute between major powers arises over third nations, my primary focus is appropriately placed on so-called extended deterrence. In this type of deterrence, one side (deterrer) attempts to prevent another side (challenger) from initiating or escalating con›ict with a third nation (deterrer’s “protégé”). When is extended deterrence likely to be effective? What happens if deterrence fails? In what circumstances is war likely to result from a deterrence failure? In order to address these important questions, the book presents a critical examination of the relevant literature and offers a new understanding of the dynamics of deterrence and con›ict between major powers. For deterrence to work, a potential challenger must perceive the deterrer’s threats as capable and credible for retaliation. The impact of capabilities on deterrence has been extensively analyzed in the literature, yet the core problem of effective deterrence concerns the issue of credible intentions. That is, potential attackers need to believe that the deterrer is willing to carry out its threat. There are two ways to approach the credibility issue. Shaped by the dilemmas of superpower nuclear deterrence, the strategic literature has been largely in›uenced by commitment theory. It prescribes various “manipulation of risk” strategies intended to build a deterrer’s reputation for strong resolve, regardless of its national interests in the particular issue of dispute. Only a few analysts challenged this view and recognized the importance of intrinsic interests in the issues at stake, also known as the inherent credibility of deterrent threats. This book demonstrates the validity of this latter approach, emphasizing the importance of inherent credibility for explaining the history of major power clashes in the twentieth century, and also suggests its greater suitability for the post–Cold War context. More precisely, this study expands the inherent credibility

xiv

Preface

approach and takes the position, rarely examined elsewhere, that the salience of a protégé’s region for the deterrer’s national interests is a principal ingredient of the credibility of major power deterrence. My central argument is that a major power’s national interests, which shape the inherent credibility of threats and are shaped by various regional stakes, set the limits to the relevance of other factors that have received greater scholarly attention in past. Since this argument is strongly supported by the empirical ‹ndings presented in this study, the book draws important implications for con›ict theory and deterrence policy for the post–Cold War era. This book represents the culmination of a long research process during which I received indispensable help from many colleagues. My main and deepest debts are to Frank Zagare, Bruce Bueno de Mesquita, and Jacek Kugler. Their work has been a constant source of inspiration for my research interests and intellectual development. I have also been extremely fortunate to bene‹t directly from their generosity and scholarly brilliance. Each was kind enough to read the entire manuscript, and Professor Zagare provided wonderful guidance and encouragement at every stage of its preparation. Each gave a wide range of valuable and insightful suggestions that only made this a better book. Most of the credit for what is good in this work should go to them, with any errors or lapses in argument and interpretation remaining entirely my own. I would further like to express my appreciation to Paul Huth for his extensive and perceptive comments on separate papers, some of which have been incorporated here. Earlier versions of some of the material in this book appeared in my articles “Conceptual and Selection Bias Issues in Deterrence,” Journal of Con›ict Resolution (vol. 45, no. 1), and “The Sources of Threat Credibility in Extended Deterrence,” Journal of Con›ict Resolution (vol. 45, no. 3), used here with permission. My gratitude also goes to Belinda Bragg and Amilcar Barreto, who patiently read the complete manuscript and gave excellent editorial assistance. Their advice on matters of style and form often led to helpful observations on issues of substance as well. I am grateful to many other colleagues and friends for their useful advice at various stages of the project or generous help in other ways: Allison Astorino-Courtois, Jon Bond, Danette Brickman, Joe Clare, George Edwards, Anat and Nehemia Geva, Robert Harmel, Charles Johnson, Jan Leighley, John Robertson, Meg and Jim Rogers, Michelle Taylor-Robinson, Guy

Preface

xv

Whitten, Lucy Xie, and Edward Yang. Finally, I thank Jeremy Shine for his great editorial support, and Kevin Rennells and all the staff at the University of Michigan Press who assisted in the production of this book. Foremost, I am indebted to my mother and family, whose unwavering support, despite my life far away from home, gave me the strength to carry on with this and other projects during all these years.

Part I

C HAPTER 1

Introduction

Great quarrels . . . arise from small occasions but seldom from small causes. —Winston Churchill Perfection of means and confusion of goals seem, in my opinion, to characterize our age. —Albert Einstein For several decades during the Cold War, the “unrestricted globalism” of containment policy left a strong imprint on U.S. strategic thought.1 The question of what, if any, national interests the United States, or any other power for that matter, might have had in different parts of the world was not generally raised. Instead, many scholars and policymakers were puzzled over two issues regarding effective deterrence.2 The ‹rst of these issues concerned the development of the capabilities that would provide an effective deterrent and, if deterrence failed, give the capacity to carry out a threat. Central to this problem was the question of whether the strategic parity between two superpowers, reinforced by the threat of mutually assured destruction (MAD), was suf‹cient enough to deter the escalation of a minor dispute into a nuclear confrontation. Although prima facie disconnected, this pivotal concern of nuclear strategic thinkers was perfectly consistent with the research of a number of scholars in the general literature of international relations. Their similar focus on relative capabilities was largely shaped by the realist paradigm, which considered power as the omnipresent factor in world politics. The second predominant issue in strategic theory and policy resulted from the belief that the failure to stand ‹rm against an opponent in one region would re›ect negatively on the U.S. reputation to meet threats in other parts of the world. Consequently, strategic thought was mainly directed toward developing the techniques of signaling U.S. intention to use force, even when its stakes were low in the 3

4


particular area of dispute. In the post–Cold War era, however, the demise of a major global adversary has prompted the question of whether U.S. national interests and goals should be uniform across all world regions. Strategic theories, mainly shaped in the context of superpower deterrence, do not always have well-developed answers to this important policy question. To understand the intricate nature of credible threats in the nuclear age, the deterrence literature has thus centered almost exclusively on the problems of relative power and manipulative strategies. Astonishingly, it has almost completely bypassed the key question of what creates a genuinely credible reason to want to use force in the ‹rst place. What issues are at stake? How strong do the stakes, that is, a deterrer’s national interests, have to be for an opponent to believe the deterrer will carry out the threat? Is the belief about the deterrer’s credibility predicated on the perceptions of the deterrer’s inherent interests, regardless of how costly the intentions are communicated? The question of what, if any, political goals a deterrer and potential attacker have in the dispute over a third nation—the paradigmatic situation between major powers, and the one where the credibility of threats is most questioned—has been largely ignored. This book takes the position, rarely analyzed elsewhere, that regional stakes are a main ingredient of the credibility of deterrence between major powers. Speci‹cally, the salience of a particular region for a major power’s national interests indicates the inherent credibility of its (Defender’s) threat to retaliate if another major power (Challenger) attacks the third nation located in such a region. The regional stakes refer to the various forms of linkages between the Defender and the area in which the third nation (Protégé) is located, such as politicomilitary, diplomatic, and alliance ties, or the degree of economic interdependence measured by a high volume of trade and investments. Besides issues directly related to their own territory, I believe that it is regional ties that precisely provide the key cues to the national interests of major powers. Since “the criterion of ‘national interest’ should assist the policymaker to cut through the complex, multivalued nature of foreign policy issues” (George 1980, 234), it is one of the goals here to clarify the concept of threat credibility in terms of national interests. My main argument is that the national interest, shaping the inherent credibility of threats, sets the limits to the impact of the other two factors on the opponent, i.e., a deterrer’s capacity to carry out its threat and manipulative strategies it uses to communicate a strong resolve. It is national

Introduction

5

interest—in other words, the involved stake in the dispute—that shapes the opponent’s perception of the deterrer’s resolve. If there is an asymmetry of stakes to a potential attacker’s advantage, for instance, the deterrer’s persuasive power to retaliate if another nation is attacked is signi‹cantly diminished. On the other hand, if the asymmetry of stakes is to the deterrer’s advantage, the maintenance of overkill capacity or the use of various commitment strategies to defend an ally could be quite costly and, more important, super›uous. Why assume that an opponent is oblivious of a deterrer’s vital national interests? It could be the case, but only if the deterrer has not de‹ned its vital interests and prioritized its foreign policy goals. “Of course in many cases the balance of interest is ambiguous. . . . But at minimum, states seem able to separate peripheral from vital interests” (Jervis 1991, 42). Remarkably, this simple, but fundamental logic of foreign policy calculations, nuclear or nonnuclear alike, driven by differentiation between vital and peripheral interests, has been overshadowed by other concerns, as discussed previously. The main point is that simple power calculations and building a reputation for strong resolve should follow rather than precede the issue of foreign policy goals and the priority of stakes, which, in turn, shape inherently credible threats in deterrence situations. The occasional confusion about foreign policy goals seems then to be yet another legacy of the Cold War era. Phrases such as “conceptual poverty,” “from containment to confusion,” or “paradigm lost” are consequently found as descriptors of U.S. foreign policy in recent critical literature (e.g., Haas 1995; Posen and Ross 1997; Nye 1999). An emerging number of critics point to the problematic nature of foreign interventions based on reputational reasons, instead advocating the need to formulate a “grand strategy” as the guiding principle for post–Cold War policy. It is the strategy that “would be based on the belief that concrete vital interests should determine U.S. commitments (rather than credibility determining commitments and commitments, in turn, determining interests)” (Layne 1997, 115; see also Johnson 1994, 144; Haas 1995; Nye 1999). Clearly, current world events require a fresher look at and a reinterpretation of a number of old premises inherited from the past. This book points to one of the ways to rethink current and past events as they have emerged in relations between major powers. It is closely related to recent literature that emphasizes the need for grand strategy as opposed to ad hoc micromanagement of foreign policy crises. In order to make such a transition in the post–Cold War era, I argue that

6


it is essential to bring back into focus the long-neglected question of the role of national interests in both deterrence theory and strategic policy. This argument is strongly supported in my quantitative analysis of deterrence crises involving major powers during the ninety-year period from 1895 to 1985. A number of historical sources were consulted (see list at end of References) to generate a new data set of major power deterrence cases, which provided the grounds for the empirical analysis. Those cases of general deterrence failure that escalated into immediate deterrence crises between major powers are also summarized in appendix A.3 This book provides both a theoretical and rigorous empirical analysis of deterrence between major powers. The ‹rst three chapters (part I) introduce key debates in deterrence research and clarify the main phenomenon that this study attempts to explain. In this introduction, I present alternative theoretical explanations of deterrence and con›ict. In particular, the main arguments of those theories that focus on either relative power or manipulative strategies of costly signals are compared to the approach emphasizing the importance of inherent credibility. Later in the book I expand the notion of inherent credibility tying it to regional stakes. This conceptual expansion provides a criterion for identifying major powers’ national interests in extended deterrence. As this study is looking at the behavior of major powers, chapter 2 and appendix B provide a theoretical rationale for their ongoing relevance to international relations research. Conceptual criteria and historical background for identifying major powers during the observed period are also presented in detail. Chapter 3 further explores a number of conceptual and operational problems involved in any deterrence analysis and introduces the new data set of deterrence cases. Each chapter of part II gives a detailed theoretical discussion and empirical test of the individual impact of key factors on deterrence. These include relative power (chap. 4), regional stakes (chap. 5), and domestically driven stakes (chap. 6). Chapter 7, dealing with manipulative strategies of commitments and costly signals, is included in part III because it also probes the possibility of these factors’ interactive effects through a series of combined models. As the empirical results point to the vital role of regional stakes for understanding the dynamics of major power relations, whether individually tested or in combination with other factors, part III concludes with a discussion of their implications for con›ict theory and deterrence policy, particularly in the post–Cold War period.

Introduction

7

The Puzzles of Deterrence

Most theories of international con›ict and deterrence that we explore and implement today were formulated or reformulated in the nuclear context of the Cold War. They were meant to provide a logical roadmap for an age in which world stability and survival appeared to rest upon “the irrationality of the rational” logic of nuclear threats. The archetypal situation was that of two nuclear states facing each other with threats of mutual annihilation if either should launch an attack. If a side’s home territory was attacked, the response would be less uncertain since its survival would be at stake. The precarious nature of nuclear deterrence arose, however, when such threats were expected to deter attacks on a third nation, usually the deterrer’s ally or protégé, that is, in the situation of “extended deterrence.”4 In the nuclear setting of mutually assured destruction (MAD), the inherent value of a protégé for the deterrer’s national interests becomes a secondary question as this value could not possibly compensate for the costs the deterrer would have to sustain if its threat were carried out. Consequently, the problem of nuclear threats primarily concerns their credibility, which “depends on being willing to accept the other side’s retaliatory blow. It depends on the harm he can do, not on the harm we can do” (Kahn, cited in Freedman 1989, 134). To solve the credibility problem, i.e., to make irrational nuclear threats look rational,5 attention centered on the techniques of signaling intentions. This new focus, in turn, gradually overshadowed the issue of whether the protégé was vital for the deterrer’s national interests in the ‹rst place. Hence, the deterrer of the nuclear age faced the dif‹cult task of persuading its adversary that it would be willing to endure costs disproportionate to the issues at stake whenever its international commitments were challenged. Otherwise, its reputation for strong resolve would be compromised, and the adversary was expected to interpret the deterrer’s threats as bluffs in other places as well. To prevent such a chain of events, triggered by the failure to stand ‹rm, the deterrer had to effectively signal a strong commitment to retaliate, even at the cost of its own annihilation. Would the United States be willing to trade Washington or New York for Paris or Bonn? This was not just a rhetorical question Charles de Gaulle asked at the height of the Cold War. A number of modern strategic studies, born out of this puzzle, are still in the process of solving it. The questions being asked, and the carefully analyzed answers, delve into the best strategies for signaling foreign policy interests, especially when those interests are weak. Yet, it

8


appears to be forgotten that the interest in costly signals and reputation was predicated on a very speci‹c idea: that it was not rational for an adversary to believe that the deterrer’s interests were worthy of retaliation. While it is clear why this was the quintessential premise of nuclear deterrence analysis, it is questionable whether it is useful as a general theory of international con›ict. Nevertheless, this approach ‹nds advocates, both in theory and policy, even for nonnuclear deterrence encounters. Moreover, it seems that a reputation for standing ‹rm itself often becomes the key aspect of national interest. Such an approach can almost completely marginalize the critical question of politics, that is, which political goals are at stake in speci‹c situations, apart from the reputational issue. The dilemma regarding relative power capabilities that provide an effective deterrent is another issue that has dominated the con›ict and deterrence research. In strategic studies, the emphasis has been on the precarious nature of deterrence brought up by the advent of nuclear weapons. The idea that the strategic balance between superpowers, forged by their second-strike capabilities, assured deterrence stability, found both its advocates and skeptics. Critics of the MAD strategy pointed to its inadequacy to respond to limited attacks or solve the credibility problem. Instead of relying on the strategic balance of terror, they advocated nuclear superiority as a means of solving the credibility problem of nuclear threats in a nonsuicidal manner. The disagreement over the adequate balance of nuclear power that can provide an effective deterrent roughly corresponds to one of the major debates about the relationship between power distribution and war in the general international relations literature. The realists are divided over the question of whether power balance or imbalance is more likely to lead to deterrence failure and ultimately to war. However, whether considered in the nuclear or nonnuclear setting, the analysis of relative power alone can provide only partial understanding of con›ict behavior. It misses the motivational aspect or, in other words, the important factor of each side’s willingness to ‹ght over an issue. An asymmetry of motivation, for instance, can reverse the impact of capabilities on the probability of war. Theories and strategies that rest on simple power calculations, without considering motivation or willingness to ‹ght, are at best only incomplete. It is not by any means argued here that we should forsake the analysis of relative power or its undeniably signi‹cant impact on world politics. This study is also not suggesting a minor role of communication and bargaining strategies in crises. In fact, the use of adequate bar-

Introduction

9

gaining strategies has been shown to de-escalate even the most acute international crises. Rather, the issue that is raised here points to the danger of applying the logic of nuclear deterrence to nonnuclear situations. The “irrationality of the rational” premise behind nuclear threats is largely unsuitable for nonnuclear milieus. Evidently, deception and costly signaling were considered by some strategic thinkers to be workable solutions to the problem of “unthinkable” scenarios implicit in nuclear threats. However, their unquestioned generalization to other con›ict situations, ones void of the irrational logic of nuclear threats, is potentially erroneous and even dangerously risky.6 Moreover, the focus on signaling techniques or simple power calculations—at the expense of understanding the inherent issues at stake—obscures the fundamental question of what constitutes vital national interests. Even in cases of nuclear deterrence, the question of national interests needs to be clari‹ed before commitments are made and subsequently honored. As previously discussed, it is reasonable to assume that there is a connection between a deterrer’s national interests and an opponent’s perception of its threat resolve.

The Requirements of Deterrence and Conflict Avoidance

Traditionally, strategic thinkers were engaged in the study of deterrence, while international relations scholars focused on the causes of con›icts and their avoidance. It is reasonable to argue that separation of subject matter, however, is simply arti‹cial, disguised by differences in terminology. The question of what constitutes the “requirements of deterrence” (Kaufmann 1956) is in fact similar to the problem of con›ict avoidance. The factors that presumably contribute to deterrence failure can also be considered as the same factors leading to crisis escalation and, ultimately, the outbreak of war. Accordingly, an analysis of the requirements of deterrence should be seen as a special case of con›ict escalation theory if deterrence fails and, at the same time, as a theory of con›ict avoidance if deterrence succeeds. The traditional view of the necessary conditions for successful deterrence is that the potential attacker must perceive the deterrer’s threats of retaliation as suf‹ciently capable and credible for retaliation. Simply put, the potential attacker needs to be convinced that the deterrer can and will execute its threats if the attack occurs.7 “Deterrence requires a combination of power, the will to use it, and the assessment of these by the potential aggressor. Moreover, deterrence is a product

10


of those factors and not a sum. If any one of them is zero, deterrence fails” (Kissinger 1957, 12). There are, therefore, three basic conditions that need to be met to avoid deterrence failure and crisis escalation. The ‹rst requirement is related to the deterrer’s retaliatory capability and its effectiveness as a deterrent. Regarding power factor, two questions have dominated the deterrence literature: (1) Can an attack be deterred under power parity conditions? and (2) Do nuclear weapons provide an effective deterrent? The second requirement is related to the issue of a deterrer’s willingness to carry out its threat. Combined with the third requirement, that the potential aggressor believes the deterrer is indeed willing to retaliate, this de‹nes the notion of threat credibility. Power Capability

Deterrence strategists were principally interested in the limits and potentials of nuclear weapons as deterrents. In this respect, two schools of thought have emerged, one believing the strategy of mutual assured destruction (MAD) to be a suf‹cient deterrent, the other supporting the development of tactical nuclear weapons to overcome the credibility problem of the MAD strategy. The former theorists believe that the horror of mutual catastrophe works as a strong disincentive for escalatory behavior by either side. Since it makes the use of nuclear weapons unthinkable, the maintenance of a second-strike capability by both nuclear powers is seen as a suf‹cient deterrent. Or, as Waltz put it: “Nuclear forces are useful, and their usefulness is reinforced by the extent to which their use is forestalled” (1979, 187). On the other hand, tactical nuclear weapons, intended to be used for the purpose of winning a nuclear war, are considered dangerous and too risky. They are seen as dangerous because they might tempt adversaries to eventually use them and make “the unthinkable thinkable,” to use another of Kahn’s phrases. Contrary to this theory, Kahn and a few others believe in the alternative strategic doctrine, which is expected “to solve the ‘credibility’ problem of the US deterrent by making it possible to ‹ght a nuclear war in a non-suicidal manner, rather than by manipulating perceptions” (Freedman 1989, 372). In this view, the credibility problem associated with nuclear weapons can be overcome precisely through the development of tactical nuclear weapons, which would be used for limited retaliatory strikes (e.g., Kahn 1965; Gray 1979).

Introduction

11

Finally, there is a third approach, according to which nuclear weapons do not have any uniqueness in their deterrent effect and thus are not substantially distinguishable as deterrents from conventional weapons. This argument does not appeal to intuitive thinking about the nuclear age, but there is, nonetheless, a strong record of empirical evidence supporting it. In a number of empirical studies, the possession of nuclear weapons by one or both sides was not strongly correlated with deterrence success or failure (Organski and Kugler 1980; Kugler 1984; Huth and Russett 1984; Geller 1990; Huth 1990). Although a few studies found nuclear weapons to have an effect on the dynamics of deterrence (Bueno de Mesquita and Riker 1982; Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993), it is striking that the deterrent role of nuclear weapons is not as strong as assumed by generations of strategic thinkers. These empirical ‹ndings are reinforced by the results from a recent formal-theoretic analysis of deterrence that ‹nds the costs of war beyond a certain point have no impact on deterrence stability (Zagare and Kilgour 2000, 292, 304). Simply put, nuclear states do not behave any differently than nonnuclear states. Since the empirical evidence does not strongly validate the uniqueness of nuclear deterrence over other types of deterrence, it is plausible to consider the capability requirement for successful deterrence in connection to classical arguments about favorable distributions of power. That is, theoretical explanations of conventional wars as the outcomes of destabilizing power distributions can also be generalized to deterrent relations in the nuclear age. It is not then unusual for analysts to conclude that “the concept of mutual deterrence is, in sense, the classical notion of balance of power in modern disguise” (Dougherty and Pfaltzgraff 1997, 376). It follows that the logic of the nuclear debate largely corresponds to the essential nature of realist disagreements over what constitutes a more stable power distribution. The “balance of power” approach contends that power parity provides stability as each side faces the same odds of winning or losing a war. An alternative argument, advanced in the “power shift” literature, considers uncertainty about the outcomes of war, created by power balance, as a critical situation that can lead to the outbreak of war. According to power shift school, weaker states are unlikely to engage in con›icts against more powerful opponents, their chances of prevailing over opponents becoming feasible only when they reach a power balance. This, in turn, makes them more willing to initiate con›ict or resolutely respond to the opponent’s

12


challenge. Chapter 4 provides a thorough presentation of each school of thought and then proceeds with an empirical test of their validity for explaining the dynamics of major power deterrence and con›ict. Credibility and Resolve

While major powers can achieve, and often do have, the capability necessary for effective threats, their core problem consists of conveying their willingness to execute their threats. As Kaufmann (1956) and many others have indicated, the crucial requirement for a policy of deterrence lies in the realm of intentions. In addition, an adversary needs to be convinced that these intentions are credible. Hence, deterrence is described as a psychological relationship in which the Challenger’s perceptions of the deterrer’s willingness to execute threats matter most for deterrence stability or instability. If the core problem is identi‹ed strictly in terms of the perceived credibility of threats, it is not surprising that the deterrence literature has been greatly in›uenced by a theory of commitments, concerned with the manipulation of an adversary’s perceptions of the deterrer’s resolve and commitment to act (Schelling 1960, 1966). Still, the view that a threat’s credibility is chie›y subjective can fail to recognize some essential elements of deterrence. If the deterrer does not ‹nd it worthwhile to ‹ght a war, but attempts to convince the opponent that it does, why would the opponent believe that the deterrer’s threat is credible? Similarly, if the deterrer feels strongly about the issue at stake and is ready to ‹ght over it, why would it assume that the opponent would be persistently ignorant of such a strongly held intent? Why not simply communicate what is an already credible intention (if it is truly credible in the ‹rst place)? The approach stressing the manipulative aspects of deterrence strategy, dominated by the theory of commitments as its offspring, leaves these questions unanswered. Even forty years ago Kaufmann (1956, 20) recognized that “there must be some relationship between the value of the objective sought and the costs involved in its attainment. A policy of deterrence which does not ful‹ll this requirement is likely to result only in deterring the deterrer.” For these reasons, as Stephen Maxwell suggested, it is more appropriate to substitute interests for commitments in the theory of deterrence. The rationale is simple: The obvious conclusion to be drawn from the failure of a state to ful‹ll a commitment is simply that the commitment did not repre-

Introduction

13

sent an interest worth defending, at the level of violence and risk estimated to be necessary. Thus, if the Americans backed down over Berlin . . . [t]he only conclusion the Russians could con‹dently draw was that Berlin was not a vital national interest to the Americans. (1968, 19) Published at the height of the Cold War, when strategists turned to re‹ning the crafts of deterrence strategies, Maxwell raised an issue that has not been addressed systematically, even with the end of the Cold War. Maxwell was not alone, though. According to Jervis, the “thirdwave” theorists of the 1970s began to recognize the importance of “intrinsic interests,” that “represent the inherent value that the actor places on the object or issue at stake” (1979, 314; emphasis added). Basically, we can identify two different schools of thought concerning threat credibility: commitment theory and theory of inherent credibility. Although the fundamental differences between these theories are rarely registered in the literature, their logic roughly corresponds to Huth’s (1997) distinction between “strong-interdependence-of-commitments” and “case-speci‹c” credibility.8 Commitment theory can be traced to the pioneering work of Schelling, Kahn, and others. Since it is the single most in›uential theory of deterrence, it should be no surprise to learn that it has received much more attention in the literature than have theories of inherent credibility. Summaries of this classical approach to deterrence can be found in Young (1967), where it is labeled “manipulative bargaining theory,” and Zagare (1996) and Zagare and Kilgour (2000), where it is called “decision-theoretic deterrence theory.” Note that here the term commitment does not refer strictly to formal alliances, but it rather encompasses an entire range of techniques for signaling strong resolve regardless of the involved inherent stakes. Commitment Theory In their seminal studies The Strategy of Con›ict (1960) and On Escalation (1965), Schelling and Kahn, respectively, paved the way for the modern strategic studies that have contoured much of our thinking about deterrence and con›ict in the nuclear age. Kahn thought that the development of tactical nuclear weapons, for possible limited use, was one way to solve the nuclear deterrence problem. At the same time, he was interested in the question of achieving deterrence through strategies of ‹rm commitments and costly signals. Still, it is unquestionable that commitment theory is mostly the product of Schelling’s in›uential

14


work in this area (1960, 1966). Schelling essentially argued that the problem of nuclear threat credibility should be solved through the re‹nements of signaling techniques that manipulate the levels of risk. There are a number of ideas that follow from Schelling’s work on “the art of manipulation.” One of the major rationales for maintaining a reputation for strong resolve comes from the understanding that commitments and events are seen as interdependent (Schelling 1966, 55–59). In this view, the interdependence of events takes two forms. First, commitments and events are considered to be horizontally (spatially) coupled, implying that a state’s failure to react to challenges in one region would diminish other states’ perception of its resolve to honor commitments in other regions as well. The domino theory that guided Cold War containment policy was clearly premised on the understanding of international events as spatially interdependent. The other form of interdependence is related to the past behavior and the consistency of strong resolve over time, indicating what we may call the vertical (temporal) interdependence of commitments. Its metaphorical version, the “Munich analogy,” ‹gures prominently as a driving force behind a number of foreign policy decisions. Scholars in this tradition argue for the validity of both approaches to the interdependency of events, succinctly summarized by Schelling: “Few parts of the world are intrinsically worth the risk of serious war by themselves . . . but defending them or running risks to protect them may preserve one’s commitments to action in other parts of the world at later times” (1966, 124). As for the nature of threats, Schelling’s approach develops an entire range of techniques for signaling strong commitments. The key idea is that “it does not always help to be, or to be believed to be, fully rational, coolheaded, and in control of oneself or one’s country” (Schelling 1966, 37). Essentially, it is consequently assumed that the deterrer bene‹ts by leaving the impression that the process is not completely controllable (Schelling 1960, 187–203; 1966, 35–91). “The key to these threats is that, though one may or may not carry them out if the threatened party fails to comply, the ‹nal decision is not altogether under the threatener’s control” (Schelling 1960, 188; emphasis in the original). The idea is comparable to the “rationality of the irrational” strategy (Kahn 1965) that consists of compulsive or unreliable behavior, such as teaming up with a compulsive ally or delegating the authority to use nuclear weapons to lower-level commands (Schelling 1966, 36–43). Besides recklessness and unpredictability, such as compulsive or

Introduction

15

unreliable behavior and the “threat that leaves something to chance” (Schelling 1966, 36–43; 1960, 187–203), the deterrer’s threat can be greatly enhanced by costly signals. This notion is closely related to Schelling’s understanding of deterrence as “competition in risk-taking.” The creation of risk—usually of shared risk—is the technique of compellence that probably best deserves the name of ‘brinkmanship.’ It is a competition in risk-taking. It involves setting afoot an activity that may get out of hand, initiating a process that carries some risk of unintended disaster. (1966, 91; see also 1960, 199–201) “Bridge burning” is yet another idea in the catalog of costly signaling techniques. “Often we must maneuver into a position where we no longer have much choice left. This is the old business of burning bridges” (Schelling 1966, 43). Routinely attributed to Schelling, the notion of burning bridges is actually equivalent to Ellsberg’s earlier idea that the chances of successful deterrence are enhanced if a deterrer (“blackmailer”) “voluntarily but irreversibly gives up his freedom of choice” (1959, 357). Again, the essential message to be conveyed to an adversary is that the process of retaliation is not fully controllable. Deterrence theorists who subscribe to the signaling approach generally examine and re‹ne a number of ideas generated from Schelling’s works on “the art of manipulation” (e.g., Jervis 1970; Powell 1990; Fearon 1997). Fearon’s formal analysis, for instance, adds re‹nements by distinguishing between the “tie-hands” and “sink-cost” strategies. He ‹nds that signaling states do better by tying their hands, that is, by creating costs that would be paid ex post if they fail to honor their commitments, rather than by using a sink-cost strategy (Fearon 1997, 82). The tie-hands strategy is linked to the issue of ex post costs arising from the actions of domestic political audiences. Subsequent formal stylizations have added more insights into the credibility problem as a function of domestic audience costs (e.g., Fearon 1994b; Schultz 1998; Smith 1998). On the other hand, the sink-cost strategy is costly ex ante for the deterrer. “Leaders might . . . sink costs by taking actions such as mobilizing troops or stationing large number of them abroad that are ‹nancially costly ex ante” (Fearon 1997, 82). It is the sink-cost strategy, therefore, that ‹ts more closely the classical commitment theory as de‹ned here. As already discussed, its central idea is that events are interdependent rather than discrete. For this reason, costly threats such as troop mobilization or even limited interventions are deemed

16


necessary in order to project a reputation for strong resolve and prevent domino effects elsewhere. This is exactly what Fearon (1997) identi‹ed as a sink-cost strategy as distinct from the one that ties hands through the ex post domestic audience costs. To what degree is commitment theory empirically valid? It has certainly been in›uential in politics, a number of strategic thinkers observing that, during the Cold War, the United States was indeed greatly concerned with its reputation for ful‹lling its commitments. According to several historical analyses, this concern was found to be so strong that it was often given primacy regardless of the speci‹c contextual issue involved in the crisis (George and Smoke 1974; Betts 1987). It is interesting to note that the same studies did not ‹nd other major players following a similar logic (e.g., Betts 1987, 13; Mercer 1996), not even the Soviet Union (Jervis 1985; Hopf 1994), or an ally such as France (Weinstein 1969). The approach of other major powers to deterrence appeared to be rather context-dependent, ‹tting more the idea of what was inherently at stake in a particular situation. The goal of honoring commitments, irrespective of the particular context, seemed to play only a secondary role in their behavior. Besides the question of the degree to which states follow costly signaling prescriptions, there is also the empirical question of whether such strategies work as deterrents. The empirical ‹ndings are not quite positive in this respect. In their comparative case studies, George and Smoke (1974) did not ‹nd that communicating signals visibly affected potential attackers.9 Instead of the strategy of “burning bridges” and “leaving something to chance,” George and Smoke recommend a strategy that gives an adversary multiple options for response. Quantitative empirical studies also show that a successful resolution of international crises requires, among other things, less ambiguity achieved through overt communication of intentions (Leng 1993; Dixon 1996). In other words, bargaining strategies do matter, but not necessarily through the strategies of risk manipulation, costly commitments and signals, or foreclosing the options for response.10 As for the effect of past behavior on the chances for successful deterrence in current or future con›icts, Huth reports mixed ‹ndings. “Weakness in one situation did undermine a state’s future credibility; . . . But ‹rmness in one situation did not necessarily enhance a state’s credibility in another” (1988, 81). Nevertheless, the concern with international reputational costs appears to have guided U.S. policy in a number of Cold War and post–Cold War crises alike (e.g., Layne and Schwarz 1993; Layne 1997). As an illustration, U.S. credibility was listed at the top of the

Introduction

17

administration’s reasons for the invasion of Haiti: “First is the essential reliability of the United States and the international community. . . . we must make it clear that we mean what we say. Our actions in Haiti will send a message far beyond our region—to all who seriously threaten our interests.”11 Despite the post–Cold War environment in which the Haitian intervention took place, such a rationale for the intervention is hardly distinguishable from the logic of domino theory that guided U.S. Cold War policy: “if we were to let Asia go, the Near East would collapse [and] no telling what would happen in Europe” (Truman, cited in Jervis 1991, 20).12 The obvious impact of reputational concerns on U.S. strategic thought and policy after the Cold War has not faded away even though empirical ‹ndings point to the need for substantial modi‹cations in this kind of thinking. Based on these ‹ndings, it is plausible to suggest that the question of whether vital interests are at stake needs to be carefully examined ‹rst, before any costly signals are sent to an adversary. Such policy advice is more consistent with an alternative school of thought, one centered on the notion of inherent credibility rather than the manipulative strategies of commitments and signaling resolve. A Theory of Inherent Credibility In the 1960s and 1970s, several third-wave deterrence theorists (see Jervis 1979) raised doubts about the validity of the theory of costly signaling and commitments. Its suitability was questioned for both nuclear and conventional threats. Maxwell (1968) was one of the ‹rst to observe that it was dif‹cult to understand why it would be rational for a state to engage itself in a nuclear war over an issue it did not consider worth a war “simply in order to support the credibility of its commitment to other objectives it did consider worth waging a war. To do so would mean deliberately exchanging a risk of nuclear war, even if a very high one, for a certainty of nuclear war.” The most important inference drawn from his criticism is that “if interest is substituted for ‘commitment,’ the argument for interdependence immediately becomes less plausible” (12, 19). Even Schelling, as a ‹rst-wave theorist, was aware of the importance of the inherent stakes or interests that the opponents had in a deterrence situation. He originally made a distinction between “warnings,” intended to convey a deterrer’s “true incentive structure,” and “threats,” conveying the intention of changing it (1960, 123–24 n. 5). Because he focused on threats and not warnings, later works mostly interpreted the credibility of deterrence in terms of the deterrer’s effec-

18


tiveness in projecting its resolve to change its own “true” or “intrinsic” values placed on the protégé, particularly when they were inherently weak. This is exactly what Kaufmann called “deterring the deterrer” rather than deterring the potential attacker. Third-wave theorists, in fact, restated this distinction, but shifted their attention to the sources of Schelling’s warnings. Following Maxwell’s forceful essay about the hazardous aspects of commitment theory, Weinstein (1969) distinguished between “situational” and “nonsituational” concepts of commitments. The former was inherent to the situation, regardless of verbal or nonverbal signals. Weinstein argued that it was precisely the implicit “situational” commitments that were better predictors of behavior than verbal (“nonsituational”) commitments, since they were dictated by the national interests involved in the crisis (43). Jervis (1970) also made a distinction between “signals” and “indices,” respectively analogous to Schelling’s “threats” and “warnings.” “Signals are statements or actions the meanings of which are established by tacit or explicit understandings among the actors. . . . signals are issued mainly to in›uence the receiver’s image of the sender . . . [but] they do not contain inherent credibility.” In contrast to signals, indices “carry some inherent evidence that the image projected is correct” (18). Jervis de‹nes indices as a comprehensive category, which may include a leader’s personal behavior, a state’s domestic political system, or power capabilities. They can also be verbal statements, unless the receiver believes they are meant to in›uence him, in which case they are classi‹ed as signals (30–39). Snyder and Diesing (1977) followed with their distinction between “inherent bargaining power,” on the one hand, and “actual bargaining power” and “bargaining skill,” on the other. The latter were a function of a challenger’s perceptions and the deterrer’s manipulation of its own “inherent resolve,” whereas the former represents the “inherent” resolve that “sets a certain limit on what the parties can achieve by manipulative tactics” (Snyder and Diesing 1977, 190). It appears that Jervis’s work on deterrence eludes easy classi‹cation into one or another theory,13 though he did make an argument that the “indices” made the greatest impact on potential initiators (1970, 18, 65). This argument was stated even more strongly by George and Smoke, after their careful examination of a number of deterrence cases in American foreign policy. “The fact of the matter is that the task of achieving credibility is secondary to and dependent upon the more fundamental question regarding the nature and valuation of interests” (1974, 559; emphasis in the original).

Introduction

19

Most deterrence theorists did not move beyond these basic conceptual distinctions. As a result, they continued to view the credibility of deterrence in terms of effective manipulation (Schelling’s threats, Jervis’s signals, Weinstein’s nonsituational commitments, and Snyder and Diesing’s bargaining skills). In a series of quantitative deterrence studies, Huth and Russett (1984) revived interest in the issues raised by third-wave theorists. Their results provided additional justi‹cation for a better understanding of the “issues at stake,” that is, the less manipulable inherent interest in the issue of dispute. Their ‹ndings were not uniform for all indicators of interests at stake, but were nonetheless critical for the advancement of deterrence theory. In general, they provided empirical validation for the importance of inherent interests, apart from manipulative strategies, for the calculus of deterrence. Since inherent credibility can set limits on the effectiveness of risk manipulation, it is arguably an even more salient type of credibility. In this study, I provide an extension of the idea of inherent credibility, identifying it with the traditional notion of vital national interests. Previous work on extended deterrence focused exclusively on the isolated value of a Protégé to a potential Defender. However, even if a particular state does not have great individual signi‹cance for a major power, it may still be important if it is located in a region of critical strategic importance to that major power’s interests. For this reason, I suggest that a Defender’s vital national interests may be better understood by looking at the regional level of major power rivalry. The approach developed here provides a measurable indicator of national interests for major powers—apart from those directly affecting the homeland territory—by identifying them with the variable stakes they might have in different world regions. It is the search for better understanding of external sources of credibility that sets this analysis apart from the voluminous recent literature on domestic sources of foreign policy resolve. Domestic politics has been examined principally in terms of the impact of the regime type (assumed to be correlated with the domestic costs for foreign policy failures) on a deterrer’s resolve. My model of external (regional) sources of threat credibility is not incompatible with the domestic politics models. Nevertheless, we may compare their relative explanatory power as will be done in chapters 6 and 7. Theoretical Explanations

A central purpose of this work is, therefore, to explore the neglected issue of the effects of inherent credibility on deterrence stability. My

20


main argument is that vital national interests are intrinsically linked to the idea of inherent credibility, and that the question of what constitutes these interests should form the core of any examination of deterrence credibility. This question has not been suf‹ciently explored in the literature, nor is it always clearly understood in the actual conduct of foreign policy. The theoretical approach guiding my analysis does not view inherent credibility as an isolated factor. Rather, it points to the importance of the interplay between inherent credibility, resolve, and capabilities for explaining the dynamics of deterrence. The argument is analyzed in regard to major power relations, but it is logically generic and applicable to the behavior of other states as well. As for the importance of major powers, it has been empirically demonstrated that they have been the most frequent participants in international crises and wars (Bremer 1980, 79; Maoz 1982, 55; Small and Singer 1982, 180; Gochman and Maoz 1984, 596; Huth 1998, 744–45). The empirical evidence also shows that their involvement tends to both increase the probability of crises escalating into wars and heighten the severity of wars. Threats to a major power’s territory are rare, and most major powers react militarily and resolutely to any direct attack on their territory, as demonstrated by the U.S. response to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor (1941) and the Soviet reaction to the German blitzkrieg (1941). Major powers are therefore less likely to directly threaten each other’s territory than to clash over their interests regarding third nations, such as allies, major economic partners, or other protégés in regions vital to their interests. Examples of major wars resulting from extended deterrence failures are numerous: the Russo-Japanese War (1905) escalated from a dispute over Manchuria and Korea, World War I (1914) escalated from the Balkans crisis, and the German invasion of Poland triggered World War II (1939). Such disputes over third parties are common, yet we do not fully understand why only some of them escalate into major confrontations. To be precise, questions that still require adequate answers in the deterrence literature can be identi‹ed as follows: (1) When will a major power (Challenger) decide to become involved in a con›ict with another nation (Protégé)? (2) When will another major power (Defender) react to defend the Protégé against the Challenger? (3) Faced with the demand to withdraw from its con›ict with the Protégé, how likely is it that the Challenger will back down?

Introduction

21

(4) If the Challenger persists in its con›ict with the Protégé, will the Defender carry out its threat? My analysis attempts to answer these key questions of deterrence by estimating the explanatory power of four factors. Each factor is ‹rst examined individually, then their potential interactive effects on deterrence are explored in a series of combined models (chap. 7). These factors, providing four alternative explanations of deterrence, are as follows: (1) the capabilities for carrying out a threat, de‹ned in terms of power distribution between major powers at the moment of their dispute over a third nation; (2) the inherent credibility of each side’s threats, re›ecting the stakes that the confronting major powers have in the region of the third nation’s location; (3) the resolve of each side to carry out their threats, assumed to be a function of the domestic costs they are likely to endure as a result of foreign policy failures; (4) the international reputation for honoring commitments developed through the pursuit of costly signaling strategies. The book ties the analysis of the two basic requirements for successful deterrence, threat credibility and retaliatory capability, to the analysis of the causes of escalation and war. Retaliatory capability is linked to the analysis of relative power distribution, while threat credibility in this framework is a function of three alternative factors: (a) the intensity of linkages between a major power and the region in which a con›ict occurs (an extension of inherent credibility theory); (b) the domestic incentives for not backing down; and (c) the pursuit of a costly signaling strategy intended to develop an international reputation for strong resolve in honoring commitments (i.e., the core of commitment theory). Power Distribution

Of all factors, distribution of power has been the most widely analyzed factor in the literature. It gave rise to a major debate between those who believe that a balance of power constrains opponents from attacking each other and those who argue that power parity gives states incentives for using force, as either side might believe it has the chance

22


to win a war. I address this debate by exploring the question of which power distribution leads to more violent or peaceful resolutions. In deterrence, it translates into the question of whether deterrence is likely to fail under a balance or imbalance of power between the major powers involved. Chapter 4 presents and tests the validity of such theories, whereas chapter 7 compares their validity to the explanatory power of the other three factors and also assesses the possibility of their interactive effect on deterrence. In light of the previous discussion and empirical ‹ndings, the presence of nuclear capabilities is assumed to be relevant, but not critical for deterrent effects. The framework is intended to explain the logic of deterrence in general, whether it be nuclear or conventional. As such, it provides the basis for generalizations beyond Cold War dilemmas. Regional Salience or Stakes

As already discussed, threat credibility has routinely been examined in terms of choosing the best manipulative strategies for convincing an opponent that a threat will be carried out, even when one’s commitment to defend the third party is very weak. I take a different approach by emphasizing the importance of so-called inherent credibility or intrinsic interests, thus picking up where third-wave deterrence theorists left off in their conceptual discussions (i.e., George and Smoke 1974; Snyder and Diesing 1977; Jervis 1979). My research also expands, both conceptually and theoretically, the notion of the issues at stake explored empirically in quantitative deterrence research (Huth 1988; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990). To be precise, inherent credibility refers to the less manipulable interests or stakes that forge a major power’s willingness to carry out its threat. The question of how nations signal their weak and questionable stakes as credible commitments to defend a third party is considered irrelevant. Rather, it is essential to understand the conditions under which the commitments are likely to be strong in the ‹rst place, hence giving rise to inherently credible threats. If a third nation is located in the region of a Defender’s vital interests, I argue that the Defender will be willing to carry out its threat against the Challenger. The Challenger has the option of backing down, which I predict will happen if its stakes are not as high as those of the Defender. When the stakes are high for both sides, the probability of war between major contenders is heightened.

Introduction

23

In chapter 5, I introduce and examine a new observable category of inherent credibility, consisting of regional interests of major powers in the area of dispute. Speci‹cally, I provide a linkage between the notion of inherent credibility and the geopolitical literature on regional aspects of major power rivalry. My general assumption is that the more salient an area is for a major power, the more likely that power is to become involved in a crisis arising in the area. If an area is highly salient for more than one major power (i.e., it is an area of con›icting interests, also known as a gray area), the likelihood of a more serious con›ict between major powers increases. This view is consistent with the intuitive claims made by a number of diplomatic historians and geopolitical writers, but hardly ever rigorously tested in previous research. In order to test my argument, I developed a new measure for the salience of regions to major power interests and data were accordingly gathered for the observed period from 1895 to 1985. My theoretical argument about the relevance of regional stakes for understanding the credibility problem in major power deterrence is ‹rst examined apart from other factors. It is then combined with the capability variable—another key requirement of deterrence—to examine if there is an interplay between power distribution and regional stakes that can explain a good part of the variance in deterrence outcomes. Domestic Audience Costs

The disputants’ domestic regime type can be considered as the second important source of threat credibility. Although a few early deterrence writings considered threat credibility to be at least partially a function of domestic public opinion (e.g., Kaufmann 1956), this idea was not integrated into deterrence analyses until very recently. Recent formal stylizations of the impact of “domestic audience costs” on a state’s behavior have revived the issue of domestic politics in deterrence research (e.g., Fearon 1994b; Schultz 1998; Smith 1998). The models examined the domestic costs of deterrence for a Defender, foremost the costs of perceived foreign policy failure, as the critical indicator of a Defender’s resolve and of the credibility of its threats. A Defender’s vulnerability to its domestic audience demands is believed to be a function of its regime type, democratic leaders being more vulnerable to domestic audience costs than the leaders of nondemocracies (Fearon 1994b, 585). Hence, one of the key arguments is that democratic gov-

24


ernments’ threats have more credibility than those of their nondemocratic counterparts, as democratic governments face higher domestic political costs for not carrying out their threats. The argument is novel and appealing for its intuitive implication that resolve in deterrence is tied to the domestic milieu, and that costs of action or inaction subsequently arise from the interplay between domestic and foreign policies. Note that such a claim does not imply the notion of inherent credibility, though it also does not require any manipulative behavior for deterrence to work.14 As such, it does not belong to the research tradition emphasizing the importance of inherent credibility, yet neither does it contradict this tradition. Like the other three variables, the impact of domestic regime type—re›ecting different levels of costs for leaders’ foreign policy failures—on deterrence outcomes is ‹rst examined by itself. Chapter 6 addresses the question of whether the incentive for not backing down in deterrence crises is shaped by the domestic environment. In the following chapter, this variable is incorporated into the combined models to explore the robustness of the ‹ndings from chapter 6 and the possibility of interactive effects with other key factors. Commitment Strategies and Costly Signals

As previously discussed, commitment theory of credibility rests on the assumption that commitments are spatially and temporally interdependent. The failure to stand ‹rm on one issue is assumed to erode a deterrer’s reputation for strong resolve on other issues. Disputes can arise in different geographic areas or time periods. Regardless, this approach contends that opponents infer a deterrer’s resolve from one event to predict its behavior in another event, despite the spatial or temporal distance between their occurrences. Chapter 7 provides an empirical test of this view by focusing on two explanatory factors that are central to commitment theory. First, I explore the deterrent effects of the strategy of costly signals in terms of the behavior that creates ex ante costs for the deterrer (i.e., a “sink-cost” strategy). Second, I examine the impact of a deterrer’s past behavior on the rate of its success or failure in subsequent deterrence crises. As the ‹ndings will show, inherent credibility, interpreted to re›ect vital interests in the region of dispute, provides better explanatory power than either of these two key elements of commitment theory. In summary, this book examines the dynamics of deterrence between major powers, especially their behavior in military con›icts in which

Introduction

25

two or more major powers are disputing over a third nation. This is the most frequent type of major power con›ict, yet it has received little attention from scholars. The theoretical background suggests four factors be examined as predictors of the likely outcome of such con›icts: power distribution, regional stakes, domestic regime type, and commitment strategies of costly signals. Furthermore, the model assumes that regional stakes, a factor previously ignored in deterrence studies, are a more powerful source of inherent credibility of extended threats than other factors, such as relative capabilities or a deterrer’s resolve, shaped by the expectations of its domestic costs or international reputation for standing ‹rm. If we were to predict the choices that major powers are likely to make in their disputes over other nations, their involved stakes should be the most potent factor to keep in mind. This central argument of the book brings back into focus the often neglected issue of when and where vital national interests are at stake. The question of national interest should precede all other concerns and be addressed by policymakers before embarking on any risky behavior to defend a reputation for strong resolve and toughness for its own sake. This approach can thus provide a strategic guide for a major power’s grand strategy, such as that of the United States in the post–Cold War context. As a number of U.S. observers and scholars have been critical of U.S. foreign policy for its lack of clarity and prioritization of its post–Cold War national interests, this study provides one possible way to move beyond the residuals of “unrestricted globalism” driven by the domino and other Cold War metaphors.

C HAPTER 2

Major Powers and Global Contenders

A great number of historians and political scientists share the view that international relations cannot be well understood without paying attention to those states capable of making a difference. Most diplomatic histories are largely histories of major powers as represented in modern classics such as A. J. P. Taylor’s The Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848–1918, or Paul Kennedy’s The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. In political science, the main theories of international relations are essentially theories of major power behavior. The realist tradition, until recently a single paradigm in the study of international relations (Vasquez 1983), is based on the core assumptions of Morgenthau’s (1948) balance-of-power theory about major power behavior. As one leading neorealist scholar stated, “a general theory of international politics is necessarily based on the great powers” (Waltz 1979, 73). Consequently, major debates on the causes of war are centered on assumptions related to major power behavior. Past and present evidence also lends strong support for continuing interest in the major powers. Historically, the great powers participated in the largest percentage of wars in the last two centuries (Wright 1942, 1:220–23; Bremer 1980, 79; Small and Singer 1982, 180). Besides wars, they also had the highest rate of involvement in international crises (Maoz 1982, 55). It is a compelling record for the modern history of warfare (since the Napoleonic Wars) that major powers have been involved in over half of all militarized disputes, including those that escalated into wars (Gochman and Maoz 1984, 596). Any search for the causes of war can then hardly ignore the behavior of major powers, and yet little attention has been given to clarifying the notion of “major powers.” Typically, the question of identifying major powers is treated as “an empirical one, and common sense can answer it” (Waltz 1979, 131). Since one person’s common sense about this issue is not necessarily shared by all, it should not be surprising that the most commonly used list of major powers is a compromise.

26


27

This list, developed by Singer and Small (1972), was generated from a survey of fellow scholars about the states they would include in the major power subsystem. As the responses were evaluative and inevitably subjective, they differed in details, and a compromise, or an intercoder agreement, was the only option. An alternative and conceptually more satisfying approach is to ‹rst clarify the conceptual notion of major powers and then proceed with their historical identi‹cation according to speci‹c criteria. This approach has been attempted only once (Levy 1983), an astonishingly slim record for such a voluminous body of work on major powers. To rectify this lack of conceptual discussion about major powers, appendix B provides a thorough discussion of the requirements that differentiate them from other countries. Guided by the conceptual criteria for their historical identi‹cation as set out in appendix B, this chapter presents a historical survey of those states that have met one or all of these criteria in modern history, with an emphasis on the twentieth century. The survey should also help differentiate between the classical notion of major powers and the upper echelon of global contenders given that these two groups might not share the same interests or patterns of behavior.

The Idea of “Major Powers”

Although major powers have been shaping international events since ancient times, the phrase major powers or great powers did not appear in the of‹cial diplomatic or scholarly discourse until the early nineteenth century. Leopold Ranke’s seminal essay “The Great Powers,” published in 1833, established a precedent for historians to use this phrase, but Ranke was merely following of‹cial diplomatic usage. For their part, diplomats did not use the term before the Congress of Vienna (1814–15), when “Great Powers” were recognized for the ‹rst time through the establishment of “The Concert of Europe.” The diplomatic precedent for using the term appeared in Castlereagh’s circular letter sent to British ambassadors on February 13, 1814, where Castlereagh announces a great victory for his policy of building the post-Napoleonic peace through the Concert of Great Powers. It affords me great satisfaction to acquaint you that there is every prospect of the Congress terminating with a general accord and

28


Guarantee between the great Powers of Europe, with a determination to support the arrangement agreed upon, and to turn the general in›uence and if necessary the general arms against the Power that shall ‹rst attempt to disturb the Continental peace. (Webster 1931, 307)1 Only a month later, the distinction between the great powers and other states was formally recognized by other powers as well in the Treaty of Chaumont (Webster 1931, 229). The expression major powers has come into a common usage more recently, replacing the original phrase great powers. However labeled, it is important to understand the meaning that is directly or implicitly attached to this term. In this respect, major powers are usually speci‹ed through one or more de‹ning elements. 1. The power dimension re›ecting the sheer size of a nation’s capabilities. Despite a number of methodological disagreements, such as those over the amount of capabilities necessary for a nation to qualify as a major power, power potential is nevertheless routinely acknowledged as a necessary de‹ning requirement for major powers.2 2. The spatial dimension that refers to geographic scope of interests, actions, or projected power. Although often neglected in the literature, the spatial criterion is especially signi‹cant for distinguishing major powers from regional powers.3 3. The status dimension indicating a formal or informal acknowledgment of the major power status. Since the of‹cial or unof‹cial status of a major power also requires the nation’s willingness to act as a major power, it is the most subjective and thus a more dif‹cult criterion to establish empirically. Although some of these elements require more subjective assessment, particularly status, a fairly reliable list of major powers can be developed by evaluating states consistently along each dimension. Moreover, the spatial dimension that gives states some degree of global reach seems to be a more appropriate indicator of the upper layer of great powers, often labeled as global contenders (or superpowers). The chapter concludes with the listed composition of major powers and global contenders for the period from 1895 to 1985. This list of powers is developed from a historical survey of each nation that is generally considered to meet one or more of the above criteria during most or some part of the observed ninety-year period. The concluding list of major power composition will then provide the pool of nations for the empirical analyses in subsequent chapters.


29

The Position of Major Powers, 1895–1985

We now turn to a careful historical analysis of the development of major powers in all three dimensions in order to determine those with a predominant status over other powers. Those powers rising above others on power or spatial dimensions (e.g., having a global reach) that are also willing to assume the role of major power will be considered here as global contenders. After a historical survey of the entire pool of major powers, the chapter will conclude by identifying their hierarchical status as global contenders and the rest of the powers. We can start the survey with one of the oldest European powers—the ill-fated Austria-Hungary. Austria-Hungary

Since the accession of the Archduke of Austria to the Holy Roman Emperorship in 1452, the Hapsburgs were at the center of great power politics until their demise in 1918. Even when the death of Charles V divided the Hapsburg dynasty into Austrian and Spanish branches (1556), the Austrian Hapsburgs continued to play a major role in European politics. Their slow decline under internal pressures became more apparent in the nineteenth century, when the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary was created through the compromise (Ausgleich) acknowledging the rising domestic power of the Magyars. Still, by most indications, at the turn of the century Austria-Hungary belonged to the major power club. It was ahead of both Italy and Japan in industrial potential, accounting for more than 4 percent of the world’s manufacturing output (see table 2.1). In addition, its gross domestic product (GDP), which doubled from 1890 to 1913, was among the fastest growing in Europe (see table 2.2). Overall, it kept very close to the French level in terms of basic resources for industrialization and armament production such as coal, pig iron, and steel production (Taylor 1954, xxix–xxx). Although the empire was certainly not one of the leading military powers at the time, it had one of the largest armies in Europe (424,000 in 1914)4 and strong military alliance ties with the rising Germany and Italy. Its status as a great power was steadily acknowledged through regular participation at almost all major conferences from the Congress of Vienna (1814) through the Peace of Paris in the aftermath of the Crimean War (1856) to the Conference at Algeciras (1906). Yet, despite its high prestige and solid macrolevel power indica-

30


tors, Austria-Hungary was at best a second-ranked power by the eve of World War I, limited strictly to European affairs, and, more important, on the brink of imminent collapse. Its large population, second only to Germany and Russia in Europe, was the source of its formidable presence and, at the same time, the key factor of its ultimate vulnerability. Ethnic diversity and severe socioeconomic regional differences could not have been sustained for a long time and eventually led to the empire’s decline. The 1910 census was very revealing: it showed more Slavs (45 percent) than the combined percentage of both Austro-Germans (23 percent) and Hungarians (19 percent) in the entire empire.5 This ethnic fragmentation was exacerbated by the unequal development of the provinces: the annual growth rate of a real national prodTABLE 2.1. Relative Shares of Major Powers in Total World Manufacturing Output (in percentages)

United States United Kingdom Germany/West Germany Russia/USSR France Japan Italy China Austria-Hungary Other countries Total world

1860

1900

1913

1928

1938

1953

1980

7.2 19.9 4.9 7.0 7.9 2.6 2.5 19.7 4.2 24.1

23.6 18.5 13.2 8.8 6.8 2.4 2.5 6.2 4.7 13.3

32.0 13.6 14.8 8.2 6.1 2.7 2.4 3.6 4.4 12.2

39.3 9.9 11.6 5.3 6.0 3.3 2.7 3.4 — . 18.5

31.4 10.7 12.7 9.0 4.4 5.2 2.8 3.1 — . 20.7

44.7 8.4 5.9 10.7 3.2 2.9 2.3 2.3 — . 19.6

31.5 4.0 5.3 14.8 3.3 9.1 2.9 5.0 — . 24.1

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

Source: Bairoch 1982, 298, 304 (tables 10 and 13).

TABLE 2.2.

GDP Growth (1913 = 100)

United States United Kingdom Germany/West Germany Russia/USSR France Japan Italy China Austria-Hungarya

1870

1890

1928

1932

1938

1950

1980

19.0 44.6 30.4 36.0 49.9 37.0 43.8 62.2 35.9

41.5 66.9 48.7 43.2 65.8 56.6 55.4 77.6 56.2

153.6 108.7 119.9 99.8 125.9 173.4 126.9 126.1b —

119.0 106.2 92.8 109.5 114.7 181.2 127.9 133.1 —

154.5 132.5 151.9 174.4 129.7 245.7 150.8 132.8 —

282.4 160.8 147.5 219.6 152.6 227.1 172.8 111.5 —

803.3 335.5 652.3 735.6 563.9 2221.9 790.8 476.6 —

Source: Maddison 1995, 148–60 (table B-10). aAustria only. b1951 year.


31

uct per capita from 1890 to 1913 was slowest in the southern non-German lands such as Transylvania (0.88), Dalmatia (1.00), or CroatiaSlavonia (1.04), and it was predictably the highest (2.00) in the Germanic Alpine lands (Good 1991, 230–31).6 The internal vulnerability was further aggravated by a series of decisions made by the succession of foreign ministers, who were all domestically opposed to the idea of a Triple Monarchy with the Slavs.7 Consequently, their international policy was primarily directed against the rising pan-Slavist and Russian in›uence in the region (Albertini 1952; Taylor 1954), which, in turn, back‹red domestically among the disenfranchised Slavic population. Against this background, the Hapsburg monarchy entered World War I and the last phase of its history as one of the oldest European great powers. France

Also one of the oldest powers in modern history, France was at its zenith after the Peace of Westphalia (1648). With the Dutch and the British close behind, the French assumed a leading role in the second half of the seventeenth century, appropriately called the Age of Louis XIV. France lost its leading position soon after the War of the Spanish Succession (1702–13), sharing that status with Great Britain throughout the eighteenth century. Its ultimate defeat in the Napoleonic Wars and another crushing humiliation in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–71) pushed France into the background among major players such as Prussia/Germany, Russia, and Great Britain. France, nevertheless, enjoyed the reputation of a top-ranked great power at the dawn of the twentieth century. The French language was still widely used as the diplomatic language of the time, and France was at the core of alliance aspirations for both Russia (1892) and Great Britain (1904). France’s reputation as a great power continued to be recognized throughout the interwar period when it joined England to lead the League of Nations and share mandates over the colonial areas previously held by the defeated Germany.8 The French colonial empire was immense, growing aggressively from 3.7 percent (1878) to 8.7 percent (1913) and 9.3 percent (1939) of the world land surface, even though France itself occupies hardly 0.4 percent of the world area (see table 2.3). The French presence across several continents through vast colonial possessions kept it at the global level of competition, although this position as a global contender was not always suf‹ciently backed up by its declining power.

32


Throughout the twentieth century, France’s power base lagged behind the large transcontinental scope of its in›uence. French manufacturing production has been in the middle range of powers (see table 2.1), and its economic growth was never as fast as that of other powers. While it took Germany and even Russia only twenty years to double their gross domestic product (from 1890 to 1913), it took France forty years (from 1870 to 1913) to achieve the same growth (table 2.2). Its relative share of world manufacturing output steadily declined from 7.9 percent in 1860 to 3.2 percent a hundred years later (1953). Since the end of World War II, France continued its great power policy as one of ‹ve permanent members of the UN Security Council. Its permanent seat on the Council became an unof‹cial form of recognizing great power status in an era when diplomatic communication across the Iron Curtain became more symbolic than it was at the time of the Congress of Vienna (1814). France also became one of the few states with independent nuclear forces. Still, the size of its arsenal was far behind that of the superpowers. The most dramatic development was in the area of its rapidly diminishing colonial empire through the decolonization wave of the 1950s. For all these reasons, France may be said to have had a respectable position as a major power since 1945, but this was certainly the period when it lost its previous position as a global contender. Great Britain

The British insular position provided it with a retreat from European affairs whenever circumstances demanded it. Despite some remarkable military moments such as its defeat of the mighty Spanish Armada in

TABLE 2.3. Total Land Areas of Major Powers (Home Area, Colonies, and Mandates) as Percentage of World Surface

United States United Kingdom Germany/West Germany Russia/USSR France Japan Italy

1878

1913

1933

1939

7.1 18.9 0.4 17.2 3.7 0.3 0.2

7.3 22.3 2.6 17.2 8.7 0.5 1.9

7.3 23.8 0.4 16.0 9.3 1.5 2.1

7.3 23.9 0.4 16.0 9.3 1.5 2.2

Home Area Only 5.9 0.2 0.4 — . a 0.4 0.3 0.2

Source: For the years 1878, 1913, 1933, see Clark 1936, 23–24 (table I); for 1939, see Townsend 1941, 18. aThe sources do not distinguish between “colonial” and “home” areas for Russia.


33

1588, England did not take any signi‹cant part in decisive continental developments such as the Thirty Years’ War. Remarkably, it was the only power absent from the historic Congress of Westphalia (1648). The British rise to a leading maritime and industrial power was to come later. The turning point came with the end of the War of Spanish Succession. The British army had retreated before the war ended, but the Tory government managed to induce great diplomatic gains from the peace terms in the Treaties of Utrecht (1713) and Rastadt (1714). As historians remark, “considering the settlement as a whole, there was no doubt that the great bene‹ciary was Britain” (Kennedy 1987, 105). It was clear from the peace settlements that Britain was now joining France as a leading great power. In the following hundred years, the gradual decline of France and Napoleon’s self-defeating strategy paved the way for Britain’s ‹nal ascension to supremacy in the nineteenth century. At the turn of the century, the only challenge to British predominance could have come from two rising powers, the United States and Germany. Both powers overtook the British industrial position: the United States surpassed its economic lead in the second half of the nineteenth century and never lost it, while Germany showed a different pattern, passing British manufacturing levels before each world war (table 2.1). Yet British naval supremacy, which gave it the ultimate global reach, remained intact despite accelerating buildups by Germany at the turn of the century and, later, by the United States in the 1920s and 1930s. Furthermore, Britain’s relative industrial decline was compensated by its extensive foreign trade. It had the largest share of world trade, losing this position to the United States only at the beginning of the Cold War period (see table 2.4). As much as British naval power was an important element of the nineteenth-century Pax Britannica, its navy was hardly a suitable deterrent against the German land-based Drang nach Osten in the late 1930s (Northedge 1966, 624–25). Even though Britain continued to appear powerful, with an immense empire stretching over one-quarter of the globe (table 2.3), it was increasingly becoming a “troubled giant” (Northedge 1966). Despite the marginal increase in the area of its large imperial possessions, the lack of cohesion within the Commonwealth marked a signi‹cant departure from London’s previous tight control over its colonies and dependencies. Overall, the interwar period showed many signs of Britain’s demise as a global power, which eventually took place in the aftermath of World War II.

34


TABLE 2.4.

Relative Shares of Major Powers in Total World Trade (in percentages)

United States United Kingdom Germany/West Germany Russia/USSR France Japan Italy China Austria-Hungary Other countries Total world

1890

1913

1938

1950

1980

10.5 21.4 11.8 3.5 10.2 0.9 2.8 1.3 4.3 33.3

11.5 15.9 13.8 4.1 7.9 1.8 3.3 2.0 3.4 36.3

10.7 13.9 9.2 1.1 4.7 3.2 2.4 0.9 — . 53.9

18.3 12.6 4.5 2.4 5.8 2.2a 2.6 1.2 — . 50.4

11.8 5.8 9.4 3.6 6.1 6.7 4.4 0.9 — . 51.3

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

Source: For the years 1890, 1913, 1950, see Statesman’s Year-Books (selected years); for 1938, see League of Nations 1941; for 1980, see United Nations 1983. aYear is 1951 (from International Monetary Fund 1955).

Like France, Great Britain became one of ‹ve permanent members of the UN Security Council and one of the few nuclear powers. Its loss of colonial possessions was less traumatic and violent than the French experience, but it was nevertheless the ‹nal loss of its effective global reach. Once a leading world trade partner, Britain dropped to ‹fth place by 1980, ranking behind the United States, Germany, France, and Japan (table 2.4). The former industrial leader was now contributing 4 percent of the world manufacturing output in 1980, which paled in comparison to the top U.S. share of 31.5 percent (table 2.1). In short, while it has maintained the status and military capabilities of a major power in the last ‹fty years, it has de‹nitely lost the economic and colonial base of its previously held position of a major global contender. Germany

In the seventeenth century, Brandenburg-Prussia rose above the other German states to become one of Europe’s central forces. The fast rise of modern Prussia coincided with the collapse of the short-lived Swedish empire, a principal rival among other middle powers (Kennedy 1987, 91–92). This sudden rise is largely attributed to the famous Prussian “militarism,”9 consolidated by several successive leaders, most notably Frederick William I (1713–40), who created one of the ablest continental armies and reorganized it under the command of Junker of‹cers. However, subsequently weakened by the Seven


35

Years’ War (1756–63), Prussia remained in the middle range of powers until the Franco-Prussian War, which opened the door for its uni‹cation with other German states in 1871. In the following twenty years of the Bismarck chancellorship, Germany became a prominent European power. After Bismarck’s downfall, a turning point in many respects, Germany became free to launch its troubled campaign as a world power. “The German empire has developed into a world empire,” Kaiser Wilhelm II declared in 1896 (Townsend 1966, 179), announcing a major shift in German policy. The traditional policy of continental hegemony through alliance diplomacy, created by Otto von Bismarck and supported by his successor Caprivi, was now replaced with the new course of “world policy” (Weltpolitik) oriented toward global competition through an intense naval arms race and colonial expansion. The new course was strongly advocated by all key members of the post-Bismarckian foreign policy establishment: Kaiser Wilhelm II, his two successive chancellors (Hohenlohe-Landenburg and Count von Bülow), and the in›uential General Alfred von Tirpitz, a new secretary of the Imperial Navy since 1897. The consensus over the Weltpolitik resulted in two Fleet Acts (1898, 1900) that launched a considerable buildup of the German navy based on the view, shared with other major powers at the time, that naval capabilities were a prerequisite for global power. As a result, German naval power rose from ‹fth in 1890 to second by 1914, close behind the English navy (Wright 1942, 670–71). Besides naval power, foreign commerce and colonies were other major pillars of global power. An aggressive approach to colonialism was consequently launched in 1898 with the occupation of Kiao-Chow in China as the ‹rst demonstration of Weltpolitik (Geiss 1976, 84; Taylor 1954, 375), while the amount of German foreign trade grew to rank second in the world by 1913, again close behind Britain. German global power was revived in the 1930s despite the loss of its colonies and humiliating defeat in World War I. In the early 1920s, a new chancellor of the Weimar Republic, Gustav Stresemann, invested his great diplomatic skills in restoring the respectability of his nation. He eventually succeeded only after the concessions he had to make at the Locarno Conference of 1925, in return for which Germany was admitted into the League of Nations. Most important, Stresemann secured a permanent seat on the League Council, bringing Germany back into the ranks of major powers (Marks 1976, 63–82). In the 1930s, radical political changes, triggered by the rise of

36


Nazism, again shifted the course of both German and European history. From an economic perspective, Germany showed the most rapid recovery from the Great Depression, sharing with the USSR the fastest rate of GDP growth (see table 2.1). By 1938, it was one of the top powers in both manufacturing production (behind only the United States; see table 2.1) and world trade (behind only Britain, table 2.4). On the other hand, Nazi rule inevitably brought a strong militaristic element to the new German ascent, spending an astonishing 80 percent of its national income on military defense (Wright 1942, 2:671).10 This new economic strength was simultaneously translated into military might for an expansionist policy, leading to another major war. There is substantial disagreement over the position of West Germany in the Cold War balance of power. Singer and Small (1972) do not include it in the postwar great power system, but Levy (1983) makes a strong case for its inclusion since 1955. Stoll’s reliability analysis of Singer and Small’s standard list also recommends the inclusion of both West Germany and Japan as major powers since 1960 (Stoll 1989, 156), and Kennedy lists them both as recent postwar powers in his major historical survey (1987). If we compare some indicators of German strength in 1955 and 1980, it is not dif‹cult to trace radical differences. By 1980, West Germany was the second largest trading partner in the world (9.4 percent of international trade, table 2.4), third-ranked in industrial potential (behind only the United States and USSR; see Bairoch 1982, 299), and it had the largest of the NATO armies in Europe (Kennedy 1987, 479). Politically, Germany was divided and regulated by the “treaty powers,” and both Germanies were absent from the list of permanent members of the UN Security Council. Like France and Britain, Germany never came close to the top echelon of global superpowers. Nevertheless, the real power potential of the Federal Republic, both economic and military, put it in the limelight of rising powers by the late 1960s. For this reason, it seems to be valid to place West Germany among major economic powers at least since then. Russia/USSR

Despite its long history, Russia joined the ranks of major powers relatively late, during the reign of Peter the Great in the early eighteenth century.11 Peter the Great (1689–1725) formally assumed the title of emperor (imperata), and the Muscovy became known as the Russian Empire. These changes re›ected radical transformations initiated by the


37

new ruler after his travels to Western Europe. In an attempt to Westernize the Russian Empire, he drastically reorganized the military, created a standing army and navy, reformed the state administration and judicial system, divided Russia into provinces, increased state revenues by imposing higher duties on the nobility, and subordinated the church to the state (Florinsky 1953, 355–74; Seton-Watson 1967, 8–45). The rise of the Russian Empire was almost uninterrupted until the Crimean War when it suffered defeat. The domestic situation was exacerbated when the economic slump of 1899–1902 was followed by the war with Japan and the domestic disorders of 1905–6. At the same time, the second half of the nineteenth century marked a period of important reforms, including the abolition of serfdom in 1861, laying the grounds for modern Russia (Ulam 1974, 7–8). The immense Russian territory, spreading over European and Asian lands, and its massively growing population, which doubled from 1870 to 1914 reaching 171 million by the beginning of World War I (Wright 1942, 2:671), could not be ignored by other powers despite its social and political weaknesses. It is also important to realize that recurrent political problems and turmoil did not impede a steady military and economic progress. Russia went through remarkable recovery and growth, particularly after 1908 (Seton-Watson 1952, 281), accounting for more than 8 percent of world manufacturing output. This solid growth positioned it ahead of France and many other powers, though still behind U.S., British, and German industries. On the other hand, it continued to pursue a protectionist foreign trade policy (Seton-Watson 1952, 287), which explains its low share of world trade. The acquisition of Port Arthur in 1898 provided a navy route into less frozen water and by 1914, the Russian government was spending large sums on defense appropriations. Only Germany spent more on defense at that time, building the largest standing army in the world (Wright 1942, 2:670–71). The Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 and the ensuing civil war (1917–22) pushed Russia—by now the Soviet Union—into the backstage of great power politics. However, its enormous Euro-Asian territory, its equally large population, and the aggressive rhetoric of its new leadership in “world revolution” denied Western powers the luxury of ignoring its presence. It also became the fastest growing economy in the 1930s, leaving both Germany and Japan lagging slightly behind (see table 2.2). On the other hand, although it had the largest standing army, the Stalinist purges in 1937 virtually obliterated the army of‹cers’ corps.

38


The Soviets suffered tremendous casualties in World War II, but the beginning of the Cold War elevated them to one of two global power centers for next ‹fty years. In the nuclear age, only the Soviet Union and the United States played the roles of superpowers. In 1969 the Soviets reached parity with U.S. strategic missiles (ICBMs) and even developed more ICBMs by the following year (Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 279). On the other hand, the United States was leading the arms race in the number of nuclear warheads, strategic cruise vehicles, and long-range bombers (Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 304). Notwithstanding its nuclear superpower status, the early signs of the Soviet Union’s economic collapse started to show in the same decade as its nuclear superpower ascent. After the initial economic reforms of the early 1960s, which ultimately failed, its GNP growth plummeted from 6.4 percent in the 1950s to an annual average of 3.7 percent between 1967 and 1973. The ‹nal collapse of the Soviet Union three decades later found its industry technologically obsolete and, not unlike Austria-Hungary eighty years earlier, its internal nationality problems reaching acute proportions. Foundations for its ‹nal demise in 1990 had been laid much earlier, as it was a system driven by the quantitative standards of a noncompetitive economy that even gradual decentralization and perestroika in the 1980s could not salvage. Italy

Generally viewed as “the least of the great powers” (Bosworth 1979), Italy was nonetheless an important factor in European politics after its uni‹cation (1860). Unlike Austria-Hungary, Italy was not vulnerable internally, and it quickly joined other powers in their overseas expansions during the age of imperialism. While it certainly enjoyed great power status, the discrepancy between this status and its real strength sharply increased over time. Militarily, for instance, Italy was the third-ranked power in naval warships in 1890, but fell to sixth place by 1914 (Wright 1942, 2:670–71). While its colonial ambitions in the Mediterranean and Africa were not backed up by an adequate navy, it did succeed in waging a successful colonial war against Libya in 1911. The Ministry of Colonies was subsequently established in 1912, and its status as a colonial power became fully restored after its recovery from a disaster at Adowa (1896), when Ethiopian forces had simply crushed the Italian army. Italy’s economic situation was quite different from these occasional military successes. Almost completely lacking supplies of coal, it had to


39

depend on imports for this basic source of its industrialization. The level of economic development was chronically lower than that of other European powers: almost 60 percent of its labor force was still employed in agriculture by 1913 (in contrast to 35 percent in Germany),12 the illiteracy rate reached an alarming 37.6 percent and was even higher in the southern regions (Bosworth 1979, 4). Its manufacturing output was constantly the lowest among all major powers (table 2.1). Despite all these ‹gures, “European statesmen went on talking as though Italy were a Great Power . . . In the Spring of 1915, most extraordinary of all, many a European statesman awaited with bated breath Italy’s ‘decisive’ intervention in the Great War” (Bosworth 1979, 5). Justi‹ably or not, Italy’s great power status continued to be acknowledged during the interwar period, starting with its permanent seat on the League of Nations Council. Italy’s position as one of the chief arbiters of the postwar order, symbolized by its permanent seat on the League Council, descended under the fascist regime of Benito Mussolini. Mussolini’s policy led to its withdrawal from the League of Nations after being condemned by the same Council as an aggressor. Behind Mussolini’s theatrical facade as a modern age emperor, his policies were slowly but ‹rmly plunging his nation into chaos. His aggressive external policy increased the Italian colonial empire to twelve times the size of its homeland (table 2.3), but created more enemies than friends. Additionally, the colonization policy did not bring any economic gains since many conquered areas were mostly desert lands, scarcely populated, and generally considered worthless by the other powers (Townsend 1941, 20). The acquisition of new colonies also did not compensate for the chronic shortage of coal and other essential raw materials. Italy actually exported to its East African colonies twenty times as much as it received from them, and the overall imports from its colonies were just above 2 percent of its total imports (Mack Smith 1976, 121). Without any material, moral, or diplomatic gains from Mussolini’s regime, Italy’s short history as a great power ended dramatically with Mussolini’s fall in 1943. Unlike France or West Germany, it never succeeded in reestablishing itself as a great power in the postwar order. United States

A decisive victory in the Spanish-American War of 1898 brought the United States into the ranks of major powers, and, although at times reluctant to perform this role, the United States has not descended

40


from this position to this day (e.g., May 1961; Hinsley 1967, 254; Schulzinger 1984, 16). President McKinley, in many ways an enigmatic personality for he never left personal papers to get an insight into the motives behind his policies, epitomized the new policy shift as follows: “We need Hawaii just as much and a good deal more than we did California. It is manifest destiny” (May 1961, 244). The annexation of the Philippines after the war further expanded the U.S. foothold in the Paci‹c, which was quickly recognized by other powers as well (May 1961).13 Although a new industrial leader, the United States was still not a global power, lagging behind other world powers in military and naval strength. The U.S. government often did, however, offer the “good of‹ces” of a diplomatic mediator in several international crises thus showing the behavior typical of a major power. Theodore Roosevelt’s administration, in particular, consolidated the country’s new status by launching a major naval program, building the Panama Canal, mediating the truce between Russia and Japan in 1905, initiating the Second Peace Conference at the Hague in 1907, and even trying to play a role as diplomatic negotiator in the very tense atmosphere of the Moroccan crisis. Roosevelt had a vision for his country as a world power and steered his policy in this direction. This path toward global prominence was delayed by the Senate’s dramatic vote refusing to ratify all the terms of the Versailles Treaty, thus denying the United States membership, let alone leadership, in the League of Nations. The internationalist orientation, therefore, swung back into a semi-isolationist stage from Versailles to Pearl Harbor. Unlike traditional scholarship that treats the interwar period as strictly isolationist, a recent historiography reinterprets it as internationalist in economic affairs and naval concerns, but isolationist in almost all other respects (Schulzinger 1984, 144). The United States was notably absent from a number of post-Versailles conferences such as Locarno in 1925, Lausanne in 1932, or Munich in 1938. In the 1930s, Congress passed, and President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed, a series of neutrality laws in response to a growing number of crises, ranging from the Italian invasion of Ethiopia to the Spanish civil war. On the other hand, the preoccupation of three Republican administrations in the 1920s with U.S. commercial and naval standing ‹rmly placed their nation close to the British and later the Germans as the leaders in world trade (table 2.4). The United States also took the center stage of monetary diplomacy. The monetary leadership, however,


41

eventually back‹red in the ‹nancial collapse of 1929 and the Great Depression that followed, hurting the U.S. economy more than any other nation. From 1928 to 1932, the index of U.S. GDP growth fell from 153.6 to 119.0 (1913 = 100), which was astounding even by the standards of the time (see table 2.2; see also Hillman 1952, 429–30). By comparison, the GDP growth of Russia, Japan, and Italy was not signi‹cantly affected by the crisis, while the economic decline of Britain, France, and Germany was less sharp than that of the United States. Other countries also showed a quicker pace of recovery (table 2.2). Toward the end of the 1930s, the success of previous naval conferences freezing the relative naval strengths of the United States, Great Britain, and Japan at a 5:5:3 ratio (at both the Washington Conference of 1922 and later at the London Conference of 1930) was not repeated. At the 1935 naval conference, the prospects of arms control were clearly much dimmer: the German navy was growing rapidly, and France and Italy were reluctant to limit their already inferior naval strength. We can safely say that even in those few areas that concerned U.S. diplomacy in the interwar era, the United States had only partial successes at best while it suffered greatly from its ‹rst bid for economic hegemony. By 1945, however, the U.S. position as a global power, now grandly called a superpower, was indisputable, and the United States ‹nally had to recognize its “inescapable position as a world Power” (Hinsley 1967, 353; emphasis added). A major policy turn came with the adoption of the “containment” policy, of‹cially announced in the Truman Doctrine of 1947 and then militarily consolidated in the NSC68 document of 1950. As one of only two superpowers, the United States effectively translated its industrial strength and military might into signi‹cant in›uence in the world. It did lose its nuclear monopoly relatively quickly, but it maintained its nuclear and conventional forces at the level reachable only by the Soviet Union since the late 1960s. Between 1947 and 1989, it spent $8.2 trillion (in 1982 dollars) for military expenses (La Feber 1997, 352), an amount that only a superpower would and could afford for defense programs. Throughout the Cold War, the U.S. economy reigned supreme, although there was some relative decline in its economic and ‹nancial primacy as Japan and Germany reestablished their economies. The United States’ share of the world monetary reserves, for instance, dropped from 50 percent in 1950 to 8.8 percent in the mid-1980s, while the country’s debt reached a ‹gure of $3 trillion by 1989, which was

42


three times the 1980 amount (La Feber 1997, 353). It is debatable whether or to what degree the United States has been going through a relative decline.14 It is unquestionable, however, that its ‹rm superpower standing has not been shaken with the end of the Cold War. Japan

There are two relatively unresolved issues in the literature on major powers regarding Japan: When did Japan become a major power? Has it reemerged as a power since the 1960s? There are two schools of thought in regard to each question. The beginning of Japanese status as a major power is much more disputable than for any other power. Essentially, there are different views of whether the turning point came with the Japanese victory in the Sino-Japanese War of 1895, or later with its success in the RussoJapanese War of 1904–5. Some scholars argue that Japan became a full-›edged, albeit regional, great power only after it defeated Russia in 1905 and secured spheres of in›uence in the Far East at the Portsmouth (New Hampshire) peace conference (Hinsley 1967, 254; Levy 1983, 42; Kennedy 1987, 209). On the other hand, Singer and Small’s (1972) standard list of major powers, widely used in quantitative studies of international relations, includes Japan since 1895 (see also Kajima 1967, 311–12). That year, to the surprise of many European capitals, Japan demonstrated its largely overlooked military prowess, while China revealed many weaknesses. The European scramble for China at the turn of the century was a direct outcome of this surprising revelation of its deep vulnerabilities, which the European powers had largely overlooked before the 1894–95 war. Two leading British historians on Japan, Nish (1977) and Beasley (1987), furnish a more sophisticated angle on this issue. Nish divides Japanese history from 1853 to 1945 into three phases: “The Powers versus Japan, 1853–94; Japan among the Powers, 1894–1931; Japan versus the Powers, 1931–45” (1977, 3). More speci‹cally for the 1894–1931 period, Nish argues that after the defeat of China in 1894, Japan’s entry among the powers took place in three phases: (1) by 1910, Japan established itself gradually as “a continental Power in east Asia”; (2) from 1910 onward (the year it occupied Korea), it became a larger “Paci‹c power”; (3) by the end of World War I, it could claim to be a “world power,” albeit a marginal one (4). The Manchurian crisis of 1931 was a turning point that put Japan at odds with the League of Nations and most other powers.


43

Beasley (1987) also believes that the rise of Japan as a power went through several stages, and he also selects 1895 as the starting point. The ‹rst stage, starting in 1895, is the period of “dependency” when Japan became a leading power in the region, but was still dependent on outside powers, Britain and the United States, for the growth of its empire. In the second stage, starting in 1905, Japan strengthened its major power position and embarked on “self-assertive imperialism.” The last stage began after 1930 and was marked by “a Japan-centered system of imperialism” (Beasley 1987, 251–55). There are, therefore, compelling reasons to conclude that 1895 was the decisive moment that marked the early formative years of Japan’s rise as a major power. In this ‹rst period, Japan succeeded in having both the United States and Britain on its side in the Far Eastern rivalry against Russia. The tacit cooperation on this issue was cemented through the steady renewals of the Anglo-Japanese alliance (1902, 1905, 1911) and through the Taft-Katsura Agreement of 1905.15 The interwar development was not linear either. In the 1920s, Japan was the only non-European power to have a permanent seat on the League Council (Marks 1976, 29–30). The reversal of its policy came with the Manchurian crisis, starting in 1931, eventually leading Japan to leave the League and gravitate toward Hitler’s Germany and Mussolini’s Italy. Its external policy became obviously militaristic, manifested through a number of campaigns in East Asia. Like Italy, Japan had some territorial gains, but lost its respectability in the world community. Also like Italy, Japan was short of industrial raw materials and largely dependent on imports. Unlike Italy, however, Japan’s new colonial conquests did provide it with a reliable ›ow of imported iron ore, coal, and other key materials for heavy industry.16 Defeated in World War II, Japan descended from the ranks of major powers; yet opinion is divided about whether it has regained that status. Once the U.S. occupation of Japan of‹cially ended in 1952, Japan became a fully independent state with some constitutional restrictions on its armed forces and defense policy. It has spent about 1 percent of its budget on defense expenditures, which is minimal when compared to the average of 3 to 4 percent that NATO members spend (Kennedy 1987, 468). On the other hand, Japan’s economic recovery and growth are unsurpassed. Its GDP growth index reached a staggering 2,221.9 level by 1980 (1913 = 100) while the same GDP measure for the United States, ranked second in growth rate, was 803.3, or almost three times less than that of Japan (table 2.2). By 1980, the United States did not

44


yet lose its primacy in international trade, and Britain was still ‹rmly in second position. However, the dynamics of foreign trade growth were different for the United States and Britain as opposed to West Germany or Japan. From 1950 to 1980, the British share of world trade dropped by one-half and the U.S. share by one-third; the German share doubled and the Japanese tripled during the same thirty-year period (see table 2.4). Organski and Kugler (1980) consider Japan a global contender. Kennedy (1987) includes Japan in his discussion of great powers for the second half of the Cold War, and Stoll’s (1989) analysis of the reliability of Singer and Small’s (1972) list of major powers also recommends the inclusion of Japan among major powers. Additionally, the brief survey in this chapter seems to indicate as well that, despite its low defense expenditures by great power standards, Japan’s phenomenal growth and economic expansion have reached proportions that place it at the very top of all nations at least since the late 1960s or early 1970s.17 China

The Sino-Japanese War of 1894–95 revealed how much Western powers had overestimated China’s strength, and its defeat opened a process of ‹nancial penetration and semicolonial expansion into the Chinese territories by almost all other powers. This period of de facto dependence on other powers and of domestic vulnerability (from a protracted civil war) lasted until the People’s Republic of China was established in 1949. Its sheer territorial size, combined with the largest population in the world, put Communist China immediately in the category of prospective power. Not until the Korean War ended, however, was its undeniable strength fully recognized by others, most importantly by both superpowers. “Its ability to in›ict ‹rst a defeat then a stalemate upon the U.S. armies illustrated dramatically the emergence of a new world power” (Ulam 1974, 532). The war also changed the Sino-Soviet relationship: China entered the war as a Soviet satellite and came out of the war as an almost equal partner. This major shift between the two largest communist states had far-reaching repercussions: the rift between the Soviets and the Chinese ‹rst surfaced in the border disputes of the 1960s. More profoundly, however, these two communist giants were already in a ‹erce competition for leadership of the communist world. As a country that had suffered from past colonial aspirations, China was in a much better posi-


45

tion to be accepted as a leader of anticolonial struggles in Asia and Africa, although this position was almost lost during the Sino-Indian troubles of 1959–62 (Wang 1977, 74). It took almost two decades for the U.S. administration to realize that communist ideology (albeit different versions) was perhaps the only common denominator between the Soviet Union and China. The famous “triangular diplomacy” of Nixon and Kissinger and the subsequent Sino-American rapprochement after 1971 clearly indicated this new understanding of China as an independent power. Inherited economic backwardness plagued the ‹rst years of a new nation-building process for China. The Cultural Revolution and Mao’s Great Leap Forward retarded the country in many ways, including economic setbacks after some initially successful steps toward accelerated industrialization. Nevertheless, the recovery was rather fast even in the area of foreign trade, which ‹rst recovered to pre–Cultural Revolution levels by 1970 and then steadily increased from $4,246 million (1970) to $9,870 million (1973), doubling in only three years (Camilleri 1980, 166). The process of industrialization also took a steady course, and by 1980 China rose from an underdeveloped agricultural economy to the ‹fth-ranked nation in world manufacturing production (table 2.1). Its steel production, for instance, increased from 3.5 million ingot tons in 1957 to 18 million in 1970 (Camilleri 1980, 122), and many other indicators, in heavy industry especially, suggest the same pattern of remarkable growth. China is also one of the major nuclear powers today, having conducted its ‹rst nuclear tests in October 1964 (Wang 1977, 87). Its nuclear forces are primarily land-based medium range missiles (IRBMs), although it has started to develop submarine-based missiles as well as long-range ICBMs, some of which were successfully tested (Camilleri 1980, 42, 155). Beside these impressive but moderate indicators of power in comparison to the superpowers, its regional orientation toward Asia in foreign policy matters also prevents it from assuming a role as a global contender. Nevertheless, China is ‹rmly and unquestionably one of the major players in world politics.

Conclusion

This historical survey examined the development of major powers in modern history from three angles: (1) their power potential, both economic and military as well as demographic and territorial; (2) their

46


TABLE 2.5.

Major Powers and Global Contenders, 1895–1985 Major Power

Austria-Hungary France United Kingdom Germany/West Germany Russia/USSR Italy United States Japan China aSo

1895–1918 1895–1940, 1945–85 1895–1985 1895–1918, 1925–45 (1965–85a) 1895–1917, 1922–85 1895–1943 1898–1985 1895–1945 (1965–85a) 1950–85

Global Contender — 1895–1940 1895–1945 1895–1945 1895–1985 — 1945–85 — —

far, Germany and Japan have reestablished themselves only as economic powers since 1965.

scope of interests and their capabilities to sustain the interests that transcend the boundaries of their home region (this aspect more than any differentiates global contenders from the rest of the major powers); (3) their willingness to pursue a great power role or the acknowledgment by at least some other powers that a nation is expected to assume this role. If applied consistently, these requirements for major powers and those for global contenders would result in the list shown in table 2.5. This list is not substantially different from others (see tables B1 and B2 in appendix B), but it does include the years of inclusion or exclusion of those powers for which we ‹nd different interpretations. Japan and Germany have reestablished themselves as economic powers, but hardly as military powers. Neither state has been involved in a single case of extended deterrence either as a challenger or as a defender of the third party. Actually, we ‹nd Germany only as a pawn in the early Cold War crises of extended deterrence between the United States and the Soviet Union. Neither Germany nor Japan has independent nuclear weapons, which have become a sine qua non for major powers of the modern age. Since this book is concerned with the military aspect of major power con›ict, these two countries will not be treated as major powers of the nuclear age. In the historical overview, a careful argument was made and thorough evidence was offered to clarify these and other choices. The rest of the book will look at the dynamics of con›ict between major powers and global contenders during the ninety-year period of modern history.

C HAPTER 3

Deterrence and Conflict

In the past two decades, the rapid growth in quantitative research on international con›icts has expanded into the area of deterrence studies. The attempts at quantitative testing of deterrence have quickly come under criticism on the grounds that many elements of deterrence, such as threat credibility and deterrence success or failure, are dif‹cult to establish, let alone quantify. This chapter addresses several key conceptual and measurement problems that have often weakened the validity of empirical research in this area. The discussion starts with the issue of the difference between deterrence and compellence, then clari‹es the problems resulting from previous ambiguities in distinguishing between general and immediate deterrence. This distinction, in turn, facilitates a better delineation of the generic decision structure and stages in deterrence encounters. The chapter also examines the issue of what can be tested logically in deterrence theory and what has been claimed to have been tested (i.e., deterrence success), but fails to meet the logical criteria of testability in the ‹rst place. The conceptual discussion should then lead to a re-formulation of several analytical elements in deterrence theory, which allows for a more valid and reliable quantitative analysis of deterrence encounters. Yet the analysis remains consistent with the semantics and lexicography of traditional deterrence literature, which has been persistently skeptical about systematic large-N research in this area. The chapter also introduces a new data set of deterrence cases between major powers from 1895 to 1985, which resulted from thorough historical research and guided by the rigorous conceptual and operational rules discussed here. This new comprehensive set of deterrence cases will accordingly provide the empirical grounds for testing the theoretical framework outlined in the introduction.

47

48


Conceptual Issues and Deterrence

In general, deterrence refers to a situation in which one side (i.e., the deterrer) threatens to retaliate if the other side (i.e., the potential attacker) takes some unacceptable action. Both the unacceptable action and the threatened retaliation may be undertaken through the use of military, economic, diplomatic, or other means. This general de‹nition of deterrence also indicates that the main function of deterrence is to prevent some action from happening. In the military context, its most common purpose is to prevent an adversary from using force. In the strategic literature, therefore, deterrence theory stipulates the conditions for preventing wars. The Notions of Deterrence

Although there is a general agreement on what constitutes deterrence, there are variations in understanding of the speci‹c properties of deterrence as a relational concept. First, some specify that deterrence is different from compellence (Schelling 1960, 1966; Snyder 1961). The problem is that it is dif‹cult sometimes to distinguish compellence from deterrence, as states often use both strategies simultaneously. As Lebow and Stein conclude from their extensive case studies, “Deterrence may be used to reinforce compellence, and compellence to deter” (1990, 352). In other words, although they are distinct analytical concepts, the difference between them may be blurred in reality. For this reason, some even de‹ne deterrence in terms of compellence, that is, as a “theory about the ways in which an actor manipulates threats to harm others in order to coerce them into doing what he desires” (Jervis 1979, 292). Generally, however, deterrence is rather understood as dissuasion of an adversary from a speci‹c action rather than as coercion into an action. The latter situation is more often identi‹ed as “compellence,” at least for analytical purposes. In its most elemental form, therefore, “strictly speaking, the word ‘deterrence’ means dissuasion by terror” (Kahn 1965, 280). It is also typical to think of deterrence as an action that involves the threat of sanctions or the promise of rewards (Kaufmann 1956; Snyder 1961; George and Smoke 1974). The latter form is characterized as deterrence by positive inducements, while the former (which is more often practiced) is characterized as deterrence by negative sanctions. Another common approach to deterrence speci‹es that the deterrer threatens by convincing the adversary that the costs and risks

Deterrence and Con›ict

49

of the undesired action would outweigh its potential bene‹ts (Snyder 1961), as well as the bene‹ts of inaction (Kaufmann 1956). Consequently, it is typical for this approach to imply the classical de‹nition of deterrence as “simply the persuasion of one’s opponent that the costs and/or risks of a given course of action he might take outweigh its bene‹ts” (George and Smoke 1974, 11). In this respect, Snyder (1961, 14–16) distinguishes between deterrence by denial (which threatens to decrease the bene‹ts from an undesired action) and deterrence by punishment (which threatens to increase the costs of such an action). This is an important distinction since, under the in›uence of Schelling’s classic statement of the theory of commitments in the nuclear age (1960, 1966), much of the literature has focused on strategies that might enhance deterrence success by punishment, i.e., by “manipulating” the adversary’s costs and risks from an undesired action. Both theoretical and empirical works on “deterrence by denial” through inducements and via positive incentives are rather scarce in the strategic literature and, arguably, are often neglected in the of‹cial foreign policies as well (for a similar criticism, see George and Smoke 1974, chap. 21; 1989, 182). These different de‹nitional angles have greater consequences for testing a theory of deterrence. As will be seen later, disagreements over identifying particular historical cases as examples of deterrence or something else (e.g., compellence) often result from different conceptual approaches to deterrence and only secondarily from different empirical interpretations of historical facts. Deterrence Success and Failure

Scholars are divided over how to approach deterrence success and failure. According to some, deterrence failed if the threatener had to use force (e.g., Karsten, Howell, and Allen 1984), while the others consider deterrence to fail if the threatener either had to use substantial force or did not attain its policy goals (e.g., Huth and Russett 1988, 1990). Deterrence theorists are sometimes criticized for speaking of deterrence failure when war breaks out, but the criticism is misplaced. Both critics and deterrence proponents sometimes confuse conceptual de‹nitions with causal inference. Quester makes a critical observation that de‹ning deterrence failure in terms of the outbreak of war is “tautological” and furthermore incorrect because “many wars may erupt simply because of inadequate retaliatory threats” (1989; emphasis added). This remark is relevant as it points to the perplexing nature of

50


what constitutes deterrence failure. It can also be argued, however, that de‹ning deterrence failure in terms of the outbreak of war is not necessarily tautological unless it implies an exclusive causal linkage between the strategy of deterrence and its failure. Deterrence may fail for many reasons and not necessarily for those related to the effectiveness of deterrent threats. It may fail because of inadequate threats, but it may also fail despite threats, because it may be that some other factors have a stronger impact on the attacker’s decision than the deterrer’s behavior. Hence, the de‹nition of what constitutes deterrence failure should be treated separately from the question of what caused this failure. If the threat is intended to prevent the use of force, then the use of force marks the deterrence failure notwithstanding the reasons for it. Most recent empirical research is thus quite correct in identifying deterrence failure in terms of the use of force as long as no causal inference is implied. On the other hand, the same argument is not applicable for de‹ning deterrence success. Namely, a potential attacker’s restraint from using force because of the deterrer’s threats indicates that deterrence has succeeded. Analysts of deterrence are therefore correct when they de‹ne deterrence success as “a situation in which a state’s leaders want to resort to force, prepare to do so, but ultimately decide to refrain because of the military capability and demonstrated resolve of their adversary” (Lebow and Stein 1987, 24; also Huth and Russett 1984, 497). In other words, the term deterrence success implies that the absence of war should be attributed to the effectiveness of threats. On the other hand, nonviolent outcomes of international crises may result from many conditions despite the deterrent threat, rendering the identi‹cation of cases of deterrence success dif‹cult. Moreover, the absence of a challenge to a deterrer’s threat against upsetting the status quo should not necessarily be interpreted as a deterrence success; a potential challenger may restrain itself from upsetting the status quo for many reasons, not all of which are attributable to a deterrent threat (George and Smoke 1989, 178). For instance, the putative Challenger may already be satis‹ed with the status quo. The following Kissinger quote astutely acknowledges how it can be misleading to attribute the absence of war to the deployment of a particular deterrent strategy. The Nuclear Age turned strategy into deterrence, and deterrence into an esoteric intellectual exercise. Since deterrence can only be tested negatively, by events that do not take place, and since it is never possible to demonstrate why something has not occurred, it


51

became especially dif‹cult to assess whether the existing policy was the best possible policy or a just barely effective one. Perhaps deterrence was even unnecessary because it was impossible to prove whether the adversary ever intended to attack in the ‹rst place. (1994, 608) Only if an analyst controls for all possible conditions except for the deterrer’s threats, a quite impossible endeavor, may we say that a potential attacker abstained from using force because of the deterrer’s threats. In addition, the analyst must demonstrate that the attacker indeed intended to use force in the ‹rst place. Since the ‹rst requirement is impossible to achieve and the second is mostly speculative, it is questionable whether deterrence success can ever be validly tested.1 On the other hand, Kissinger’s implication that deterrence can only be tested negatively, that is, via those cases where deterrence did not fail, does not seem to offer a satisfactory resolution to the methodological problem. If we are interested in the conditions promoting deterrence success, then focusing only on cases with a “successful” deterrent outcome would yield results on necessary conditions at best. Furthermore, these same conditions may also precede deterrence failures (Jervis 1989, 193–94). The impossibility of interpreting the nonviolent outcome of dispute as a deterrence success does not necessarily leave us with just the option of considering only those cases where deterrence fails. It is, in fact, vital to consider both cases of deterrence failure and nonfailure, but it is essential not to automatically interpret the latter as a deterrence success. Some empirical analysts acknowledge this important analytical issue (e.g., Huth and Russett 1984, 497), though many others, despite its methodological relevance, continue to label peaceful resolutions as deterrence success. Major Types of Deterrence

Several criteria can be used for distinguishing various forms of deterrence. First, deterrence can be exercised in different areas of foreign policy, though the primary concern of scholars and practitioners is overwhelmingly in the domain of national security, especially nuclear strategy. In the context of military deterrence, we can further differentiate between strategic (nuclear) and substrategic (conventional) levels of deterrence, and, within the latter category, we can separate the deterrence of local and limited wars from the deterrence of less violent con›icts (George and Smoke 1989, 172). Second, we can make a typology of deterrence cases based on the

52


question of what constitutes a deterrent threat. It is conventional to recognize deterrent threats through public verbal statements issued by of‹cial governments, but deterrent threats have been interpreted, both by analysts and policymakers, in many other ways. They can also be manifested through behavioral forms that imply a threat, such as the movement of troops into particular areas, partial or complete mobilization, putting forces (nuclear or conventional) on the highest alert, and so forth. Though not accompanied by explicit verbal warnings, these actions constitute unspoken signals of a deterrer’s intent to take action unless the other side changes its behavior. That deterrence can be manifested in diverse ways is important, because it can signi‹cantly affect the identi‹cation of deterrence cases in empirical analysis. Third, most quantitative studies of deterrence follow Morgan’s (1983) distinction between general and immediate deterrence: Immediate deterrence concerns the relationship between opposing states where at least one side is seriously considering an attack while the other is mounting a threat of retaliation in order to prevent it. General deterrence relates to opponents who maintain armed forces to regulate their relationship even though neither is anywhere near mounting an attack. (Morgan 1983, 30; emphasis in the original) The distinction is quite intuitive, though it is apparent that it can be dif‹cult, according to this de‹nition, to distinguish an arms race, for instance, from “cases” of general deterrence. Finally, another widely used classi‹cation, relevant especially for major power relations, makes a distinction between direct and extended deterrence. Basic or direct deterrence refers to the prevention of attack on the deterrer’s home territory. In extended deterrence, a state attempts to deter an attack on a third party, such as an ally (e.g., Weede 1983, 234 ; Huth and Russett 1988, 30), a protégé (Stein 1987, 326; Wu 1990), a “pawn” (Russett 1963; Zagare and Kilgour 2000), or any other state (George and Smoke 1974, 58; Lebow and Stein 1990, 336). Extended Deterrence as the Prevalent Deterrence Form

Extended deterrence is a common and precarious element of major power relationships, but it was not directly addressed in the literature until very recently. In particular, a series of works by Huth and Russett laid the grounds for quantitative research in this area (Russett 1963;


53

Huth 1988, 1994; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990; Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993), while formal models of extended deterrence also expanded (Wu, 1990; Kilgour and Zagare 1994; Zagare and Kilgour 2000). The relevance of extended deterrence for major power relations is indicated by the recent attempt to record all deterrence encounters among great powers from 1816 through 1984: 65 percent of these encounters were cases of extended deterrence, while only 35 percent represented direct deterrence (Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993, table A-1). The list of major power deterrence cases in this book (see tables 3.1, 3.2, 3.3) indicates a similar pattern despite slightly different criteria for their identi‹cation. The historical record shows that almost all major wars have occurred after the failure of extended deterrence, that is, when at least one major power tried to prevent the other power’s attack on a third party. Since the Congress of Vienna, almost all major power con›icts resulted from the failure of extended deterrence between powers. Nevertheless, there have been some notable and dramatic exceptions, such as the Franco-Prussian War or the Soviet and U.S. entries into World War II, which were triggered by direct attacks by Germany and Japan respectively. Notwithstanding these few exceptions, it may be argued that major power wars tend to develop from disputes over issues related to minor power(s). Typically, an initial con›ict between a major power and some minor power(s) would trigger a military response by another major power in support of its protégé (the minor power). This dynamic, in turn, highlights the problem of maintaining stable extended deterrence in order to prevent major wars. In addition, many intricacies of the stability of deterrence primarily relate to the credibility problems of extended deterrence. In fact, the entire theory of commitments developed by Schelling (1960, 1966), which dominated most of the strategic literature throughout the Cold War, was designed to strengthen the effectiveness of extended threats, especially when the “inherent” credibility of defending the third party was weak. Quester (1989, 63), for instance, argues that “in truth, basic deterrence is very easy to accomplish, where there is much more doubt comes in ‘extended deterrence’ ” (see also George and Smoke 1974; Betts 1987). Like the traditional strategic literature, almost all recent quantitative research in this area primarily examines extended deterrence between states (Russett 1963; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990; Huth 1988, 1990; Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993). In the evolution of the idea of extended deterrence, Snyder (1961, 17) was one of the ‹rst to introduce the distinction between “primary”

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and “secondary” deterrence, the latter being the “deterrence of enemy attack not against oneself, but against a third party.” Kahn later (1965, 281) distinguished between three types of deterrence, depending on whether the goal of deterrence was to prevent “attacks directed at the United States” (i.e., the threatener—Type I), “extreme provocations, such as nuclear or even conventional attack on Europe” (i.e., an important ally—Type II), or “relatively minor or moderate provocations” (i.e., any third party other than allies—Type III). While Kahn’s Type II and Type III deterrence are both incorporated under Snyder’s “secondary” deterrence, later analysts tended to specify extended deterrence primarily in terms of Kahn’s Type II deterrence (for an exception, see George and Smoke 1974; Lebow and Stein 1990). This restriction is problematic, however, because it does not differentiate the issue of a possible condition for successful extended deterrence (i.e., that the third party is a close protégé or an ally to the deterrer) from the very de‹nition of extended deterrence. For this reason, it would be more appropriate to retain the original meaning of Snyder’s “secondary” deterrence. Extended deterrence can then be de‹ned simply as an attempt to deter an attack on a third party, be it an ally, a protégé, or any other state.

The Conceptual and Operational Refinements Basic Deterrence Stages and Decision Structure

The previous discussion demonstrates that any attempt to identify cases of deterrence success can be only speculative, and any list of such cases would be spurious at least. This is true for all types of deterrence situations, whether general (i.e., when there is no challenge to a deterrer’s threat) or immediate (i.e., the challenger is dissuaded from using the force). With this caveat in mind, we can provide a working distinction in both general and immediate types of deterrence between those situations that can be perceived as deterrence successes and those of deterrence failure. This working distinction is a necessary step toward a more rigorous selection of cases of immediate deterrence. Figure 3.1 delineates such situations and also outlines the sequence of events that distinguish general from immediate deterrence. Figure 3.1 is helpful in clarifying which decision choices precede general or immediate deterrence and which decisions indicate the failure of either type of deterrence. Most scholars subscribe to the view that any overt or less explicit form of competition for in›uence


55

Fig. 3.1. General and immediate deterrence

between two or more powers, such as maintaining armed forces, can be interpreted as a case of general deterrence (Morgan 1983, 30). Figure 3.1, however, points to a more restrictive and reliable approach to identifying general deterrence cases. It indicates that general deterrence is triggered only if at least one side makes a certain threat, either through direct of‹cial statements or through any other behavior commonly understood to imply a threat, such as a substantial troop movement or putting armed forces on high alert. If there is no such verbal or behavioral form of threat, then actions such as the intensi‹ed maintenance of armed forces would be more correctly interpreted as an arms race, which might have different underlying dynamics than deterrence. Figure 3.1 identi‹es deterrence successes only in order to draw an analytical distinction between “successes” and failures, though empirical identi‹cation of deterrence success can be very problematic for the reasons already discussed. Deterrence failure occurs when any other

56


party challenges the deterrer’s original threat. As a simple generic de‹nition, it applies to both general and immediate deterrence. As ‹gure 3.1 shows, the failure of general deterrence does not necessarily lead to immediate deterrence, a point that has been often overlooked in previous empirical studies. In large part, this oversight is related to the requirement for a Challenger’s intention to attack as a trigger for the onset of immediate deterrence, and the Defender’s commitment to react. Though widespread, this requirement is problematic. The obvious empirical problem is in establishing a Challenger’s intention to retaliate. As with any other motivational or cognitive construct, intentions escape a replicable empirical identi‹cation.2 Furthermore, it is important to specify whether the Defender’s commitment to defend the Protégé precedes or follows the Challenger’s threat of attack. As indicated in ‹gure 3.1, it is important to recognize that once general deterrence fails, immediate deterrence does not automatically start unless the Defender reacts to the challenge to its general deterring threat. Any prior Defender’s threat against such a challenge belongs to the dynamics of general deterrence. If this prior threat is also considered as a de‹nitional requirement for immediate deterrence, then the line between general and immediate dynamics of deterrence is blurred. To remove any possible confusion in this respect, a revised and more precise delineation of immediate deterrence is accordingly illustrated in ‹gure 3.1. This clari‹cation should provide better conceptual guidance for a more robust and replicable identi‹cation of historical cases of deterrence encounters. To avoid all these problems, I de‹ne deterrence as a situation in which one side threatens the other side with some punitive retaliation if the other side takes a certain action. In direct deterrence, this undesired action is aimed at the territory of the deterrer, while in extended deterrence it is aimed against a third party. I focus on the immediate type of extended deterrence, which occurs when general deterrence fails and a Defender threatens to retaliate against the challenge (see ‹g. 3.1). In the extended form of immediate deterrence, the Challenger’s threat and Defender’s responses are related to a third party, which does not have to be the Defender’s of‹cial ally. Deterrence Outcomes

If a general deterrence failure enters the immediate crisis stage—that is, if the Defender demands the Challenger back away from its threatened or actual attack on a third party—then there are four possible out-


Fig. 3.2.

57

Extended-immediate deterrence (EID)

comes: either Challenger or Defender can acquiesce to the other’s demands, they can reach some sort of compromise, or, if neither is willing to concede, the crisis escalates into war (see ‹g. 3.2). It should be noted that these outcomes are only partially comparable to the deterrence success and failure outcomes typically used in quantitative deterrence analyses. A Challenger’s acquiescence is comparable to a “deterrence success” for the Defender (i.e., deterrer). However, “deterrence failure,” as commonly used, can refer to either a situation where the Defender acquiesces, or war breaks out. Compromise outcomes have been routinely neglected in previous quantitative works. Unlike “compromise” as de‹ned in the MID data set, which allows for a substantial use of force as long as disputants agree to accept or rede‹ne the status quo (see Mousseau 1998), compromise here simply refers to the absence of an exchange of serious threats, or the reciprocated use of force between a Challenger and Defender. In this regard, it is similar to the “negotiation” outcome in Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman’s international interaction game (1992) and “peaceful settlements” in Dixon (1994). The advantage of this treatment of deterrence outcomes over the simple dichotomy of success or failure is twofold. First, though some

58


might argue that the outcomes of Defender’s acquiescence or war can be viewed as deterrence failure and the outcome of Challenger’s acquiescence as deterrence success, compromise, as a midpoint between success and failure, escapes this dichotomy. Consequently, it is important to include the possibility for an outcome that does not present a clearcut success or failure for either side.3 Second, it is common for the dichotomized approach to deterrence outcomes to identify deterrence failure with the use of force and deterrence success with a peaceful outcome. The classi‹cation of four outcomes reveals why such an approach can be misleading. While war undoubtedly represents deterrence failure, peaceful outcomes imply three possibilities in terms of perceived successes: a deterrer’s perceived success if the Challenger peacefully acquiesces (AcqCh), the Challenger’s success if the deterrer acquiesces without ‹ghting (AcqDef), or compromise by both. These three peaceful outcomes carry different political implications for either side in terms of winning or losing the con›ict, which are all con›ated in the single notion of deterrence success as a peaceful outcome.

The Historical Cases of Major Power Deterrence, 1895–1985

In their search for more robust and rigorous ways to measure and test deterrence arguments, a number of analysts have made remarkable contributions. Theoretical arguments on deterrence have been tested in both qualitative and quantitative research. Among those who use qualitative methods, comparative case studies ‹gure prominently (George and Smoke 1974; Snyder and Diesing 1977; Organski and Kugler 1980; Lebow 1981; Mearsheimer 1983; Betts 1987), though there were some theoretically signi‹cant single case studies as well (Russett 1967; Stein 1987). On the quantitative side, the pioneering work by Russett (1963) was followed by a series of studies on extended deterrence in the 1980s and later (Weede 1983; Huth 1988, 1995; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990; Wu 1990). In contrast to the empirical studies, attempts to address issues of extended deterrence in formal theory have been less widespread. In this respect, a series of formal modeling works by Zagare and Kilgour (Zagare 1992; Kilgour and Zagare 1994; Zagare and Kilgour 2000) can be singled out for their signi‹cant contribution to our better understanding of theoretical rami‹cations and the logic of


59

extended deterrence. Regardless of the adopted method, it is clear that extended-immediate deterrence has received much scholarly attention. The Operational Rules for Identifying Deterrence Cases

Partly to address several conceptual weaknesses and partly to guide a more robust and replicable empirical analysis, the operational criteria for selecting the cases of deterrence will be consistent with the rules set out in the previous conceptual section. The cases of general deterrence failure include all instances in which (1) at least one major power (Challenger) upsets the status quo in general deterrence vis-à-vis another major power (Defender) by getting into a con›ict with a third state (Protégé), and (2) the Defender demands the Challenger pull out from the con›ict against the Protégé. The ‹rst stage constitutes general deterrence failure as a necessary but not suf‹cient condition for immediate deterrence. The second stage marks the onset of immediate deterrence between the powers in their extended deterrent encounter. The focus here is on those types of crises and deterrence in which military means are used by either power. The essential moves marking general deterrence failure and the beginning of immediate deterrence, therefore, are operationally de‹ned in terms of military moves. As deterrent threats can be manifested both verbally and behaviorally, as discussed previously, the range of such moves includes:4 (1) a threat of force (including the threat to blockade, occupy territory, declare war, or use force); (2) a display of force (alert, mobilization, or show of force); and (3) the use of force (blockade, occupation, seizure, limited use of force, or war).5 A more re‹ned distinction among several possible outcomes should help us overcome the problematic nature of identifying deterrence outcomes as a success or failure. Speci‹cally, we need to ‹rst identify whether general deterrence failed or not. Once general deterrence between major powers fails, i.e., con›ict breaks out between at least one major power (Challenger) and a third nation (Protégé), it can either escalate into immediate deterrence between the Challenger and another major power (Defender), or not. If there is at least one other major power willing to aid the Protégé as its Defender, then the analysis differentiates four possible outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence: (1) the Challenger’s acquiescence to the Defender’s demands to pull out from the con›ict against the third party (AcqCh); (2) the Defender’s acquiescence to the Challenger’s perseverance in its con›ict

60


against the Defender’s Protégé (AcqDef); (3) a compromise between Challenger and Defender in which each side achieves some goals while yielding on some other issues without any use of force (compromise); (4) a war in which Challenger and Defender use force against each other as a means of resolving the dispute (war). The operational rules for identifying deterrence outcomes are evidently based on a combination of two factors: the extent to which each side’s demands are met and the degree of escalation in the use of force.6 An Empirical Survey of Major Power Deterrence Cases, 1895–1985

Following these operational rules, we can determine the universe of deterrence cases between major powers from 1895 to 1985. Table 3.1 lists all cases of general deterrence failures that did not escalate into immediate deterrence crises (a total of 105 cases), while the cases of escalation to extended-immediate deterrence (EID) between major powers are presented in table 3.2 (a total of 44 cases).7 Five of these cases contained 2 distinct subcrises, as the threats issued by each side were for different targets. Finally, there were only 4 cases of direct deterrence between major powers (see table 3.3), which once again justi‹es the focus on issues of extended threats. Each table identi‹es major actors (Challenger, Defender, Protégé) and lists conventional names for con›icts as commonly used in historical surveys. The list of general deterrence failures that escalated into extended-immediate deterrence (table 3.2) also identi‹es the outcomes according to the operational de‹nitions for EID outcomes.8 Brief historical summaries of all listed cases of extended-immediate deterrence are given in appendix A along with the sources of information used for developing the entire set of all three types of deterrence cases. While this is the ‹rst attempt to develop a set of all cases of general deterrence failures between major powers, there have been a few similar attempts to collect information on the universe of extended-immediate deterrence cases (see Huth and Russett 1990; Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993). Despite some degree of overlap between these lists of cases, there are some signi‹cant differences among all three studies. First, the earlier set developed by Huth and Russett (1990) included fewer cases of deterrence encounters than the data set introduced here or that of Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett (1993). About 20 cases included in this study are not found in Huth and Russett’s list, while 4 cases from their set are ruled out as cases of extended-immediate deterrence here.


61

On the other hand, Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett (1993) list 17 cases of extended deterrence that are not found in the present analysis, but they omit 13 cases that can be found here. The difference in determining the Defenders and the Challengers is relatively small: out of 26 commonly identi‹ed cases in my list and that developed by Huth and Russett (1990), only 20 percent have reversed roles for Defenders and Challengers; the difference is even smaller in comparison to the list provided by Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett (1993). Major differences between this list of extended-immediate deterrence cases and the previous ones result from several factors, both conceptual and empirical. The operational rules for identifying the cases are guided here by the conceptual distinction between general deterrence failure and the onset of immediate deterrence as presented in ‹gure 3.1. This clari‹cation resulted in identifying several cases as general deterrence failures, but not as immediate deterrence cases as well. Furthermore, at the conceptual level, I do not specify deterrence in terms of actors’ intentions, but strictly behaviorally, to avoid (among other things) the problem of reliability in identifying intentions. Finally, an attempt was made to consult more comprehensive number of historical sources than those reported in previous studies of deterrence (e.g., Huth 1988, 26–27; Huth and Russett 1984, 504–5). This reanalysis of historical materials explains many differences in the coding of some historical cases.9 There are a few general patterns that can be observed in tables 3.1 through 3.3. First, strategic thinkers’ primary interest in issues of extended deterrence is fully justi‹ed given that there were only 4 cases of direct-immediate deterrence between major powers compared to 44 cases of extended-immediate deterrence. Second, the argument advanced in the previous conceptual discussion that general deterrence failure should not be confused with the onset of immediate deterrence is also proven valid. Out of 153 cases of general deterrence failures between major powers, 105 cases (68.63 percent) never escalated into crises of immediate deterrence, whether extended or direct (see table 3.1). Third, regarding the outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence (see table 3.2), half of the cases (50.0 percent) resulted in the Challenger’s acquiescence to the Defender’s demands without ‹ghting, but 32.87 percent led to deterrence failure (i.e., either war or Defender’s acquiescence without ‹ghting), while the remaining 17.1 percent were resolved through compromise. Almost half of the deterrence failures escalated to war. The data set presented here will provide the empirical material for

Year

1895–96 1895 1895–96 1899–1900 1899–1902 1900 1900 1903 1903 1903 1903–4 1906 1906–8 1906–9 1909–12 1910–12 1911 1911–12 1911–14 1912 1912 1912 1913 1913–14 1914 1919 1919–21

No.

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27)

France UK Italy France UK Russia Russia UK U.S. U.S. UK UK France U.S. Russia U.S. U.S. Italy U.S. U.S. Italy Russia Italy, A-H U.S. U.S. Italy France

Major Power (Madagascar) Turkey Ethiopia Morocco South Africa Afghanistan (Manchuria) Iran Colombia Dominican Republic (Tibet) Turkey (i.e., Palestine/Egypt) (Algeria)/Morocco (Cuba) Iran Nicaragua Honduras Turkey (Libya) Dominican Republic Cuba Turkey Bulgaria Greece Mexico Haiti Greece Turkey

Minor Power French Annexation of Madagascar Armenian Massacres Italo-Ethiopian War French Occupation of Tuat Boer War Russo-Afghan Frontier Dispute Russian Intervention in Manchuria Persian Gulf Naval Demonstration Panama Independence Dominican Turmoils British Invasion of Tibet Akaba Affair French Occupation of Sahara and Mauretania Cuban Revolution Russian Invasion of Northern Persia Nicaraguan Revolution Honduran Revolution Tripoli War Occupation of the Dominican Republic “Negro Revolt” in Cuba Italian Occupation of Dodecanese Islands Constantinople Issue (First Balkan War) Albanian Boundaries Issue (Second Balkan War) Mexican Revolution American Intervention in Haiti Smyrna Cilician War

Crisis Name

TABLE 3.1. General Deterrence Failure/No Immediate Deterrence, Major Powers, 1895–1985

(28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58)

1920 1921 1921 1922 1922–32 1923 1923–24 1923–25 1924 1924 1925–26 1925 1925–27 1927–28 1928 1929 1929–34 1931–32 1932–33 1933–34 1934 1934 1934 1936–39 1937 1937–41 1938 1939 1939 1939 1939

France U.S. France, UK UK Italy Italy U.S. France UK UK France UK U.S. Japan UK USSR U.S. Japan Japan U.S. Italy Italy Italy Germany, Italy France Japan Germany Italy Germany Germany USSR

(Syria) Panama Germany Turkey (Libya) Greece Honduras Germany Egypt Turkey (i.e., Iraq) (Morocco) China Nicaragua China Egypt China (Haiti) China China Cuba Albania Austria Ethiopia Spain Turkey (i.e., Syria) China Austria Albania Czechoslovakia Lithuania Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania (continues)

French Colonization of Syria Panama–Costa Rica Border Dispute Reparations Problem Chanak Affair Italian Recolonization of Libya Corfu Crisis Honduran Revolution Ruhr Occupation British Ultimatum to Egypt Mosul Land Dispute Riffians Rebellion Shanghai Incident Second U.S. Intervention in Nicaragua Shantung Sinai Ultimatum Chinese Eastern Railway U.S. Withdrawal from Haiti Manchurian War (Mukden Incident) Jehol Campaign “Sergeants Revolt” in Cuba Italo-Albanian Frictions (Durazzo Naval Demonstration) Dolfuss Affair (Nazi Putsch in Austria) Wal-Wal Spanish Civil War Alexendretta Crisis Sino-Japanese War Anschluss Italy’s Invasion of Albania German Annexation of Czechoslovakia Memel Annexation Soviet Occupation of the Baltics

Year

1940 1948–51 1950–51 1951–52 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1956 1957 1958 1958–61 1959–60 1959–62 1961 1961–62 1962 1962 1963–65 1964 1964 1964–66 1964–75 1964 1965 1965

No.

(59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85)

TABLE 3.1.—Continued

USSR USSR China UK China USSR U.S. U.S. USSR USSR U.S., UK U.S. France China China U.S. U.S. China U.S. UK U.S. France UK U.S. U.S. China U.S.

Major Power Finland Yugoslavia (Tibet) Egypt Portugal East Germany Guatemala Nicaragua Poland Hungary Jordan Lebanon Tunisia Nepal India Cuba Laos/Thailand Taiwan Yemen Indonesia Panama Gabon North Yemen Vietnam Congo India Dominican Republic

Minor Power Russo-Finnish War Soviet-Yugoslav Rift Chinese Invasion of Tibet Canal Zone Macao East Berlin Uprising U.S. Intervention in Guatemala Nicaragua-Costa Rican Dispute Polish October Hungarian Intervention Jordanian Civil War Lebanon Upheaval Tunisian Military Bases and Bizerta Conflict Sino-Nepalese Border Dispute Sino-Indian War Bay of Pigs Laos Taiwan Strait Yemeni Civil War (1962–current) Borneo Panama Canal Military Putsch in Gabon Yemeni Civil War (1962–current) Vietnam War Congo Indo-Pakistani War 1964-65 Dominican Intervention

Crisis Name

1968 1968 1969–72 1970 1975 1978 1978–79 1978–82 1979 1979–89 1979 1979–80 1980 1980–81 1981 1982 1983 1983 1983–84 1983–84

U.S. USSR France U.S. U.S. France China France U.S. USSR USSR U.S. UK, France USSR U.S. UK U.S. U.S. France China

North Korea Czechoslovakia Chad Cambodia Cambodia Zaire Vietnam Chad Yemen Afghanistan Pakistan Iran Vanuatu Poland Libya Argentina Nicaragua Grenada Chad Vietnam

Pueblo Seizure Prague Spring First Chadian Civil War (1965–72) Invasion of Cambodia (Vietnam War) Mayaguez Crisis Shaba Sino-Vietnam War Second Chadian Civil War (1978–82) Yemeni Civil War (1962–current) Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan Soviet Threat to Pakistan U.S. Hostages in Iran Espiritu Santo Secessionist Fighting Solidarity Movement in Poland Gulf of Syrte Falklands (Malvinas) War Contras U.S. Invasion of Grenada Third Chadian Civil War (1983–current) Sino-Vietnamese Clashes

Note: Parentheses are used for those third parties that were not classified as independent states in the Correlates of War project (Singer and Small 1982).

(86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105)

Year

1895–96 1897 1897–98 1898–99 1898–99

1899–1900 1901–03 1902 1904–5 1905–6 1908

1911 1912 1914–17 1914–18 1920–23

1932 1935–36 1935–36

1937 1938 1938 1938

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

(13) (14) (15a) (15b) (16)

(17) (18) (19)

(20) (21) (22) (23)

USSR USSR Italy Germany

Japan Italy Japan

Germany A-H, Germany A-H, Germany Germany USSR

Germany Germany France Russia UK, U.S. France Russia Russia UK, Germany Russia Germany A-H, Germany

Challenger

Japan Japan France UK, France

UK, U.S. UK USSR

France Russia Russia UK, France UK

UK Russia UK UK Germany UK Japan Japan U.S. Japan France Russia

Defender

(Manchuria) (Manchuria) (Tunisia) Czechoslovakia

China Ethiopia (Outer Mongolia)

Morocco Serbia Serbia Belgium, France Iran, Afghanistan

(South Africa) China (Nigeria) China (Samoa) (Sudan) Korea (Manchuria) Venezuela Korea, (Manchuria) Morocco Serbia

Third Party

AcqUSSR AcqJapan AcqItaly AcqUK, France

AcqJapan AcqUK AcqJapan

AcqGermany AcqRussia War War Compromise

AcqGermany Compromise Compromise Compromise Compromise AcqFrance AcqRussia AcqJapan AcqUK, Germany War AcqGermany AcqRussia

Outcome

The Cases of Extended-Immediate Deterrence among Major Powers, 1895-1985

No.

TABLE 3.2.

Delagoa Bay and Jameson Raids Kiao-Chow (German occupation) Niger Dispute Anglo-Russian crisis Samoan Islands Dispute Fashoda Masampo Episode Manchurian Evacuation Venezuelan Crisis Russo-Japanese War First Moroccan (Tangier) Crisis Annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina Second Moroccan (Agadir) Crisis First Balkan War World War I World War I Anglo-Russian Frictions in Central Asia Shanghai Incident Italo-Ethiopian (Abyssinian) War Outer Mongolian Frontier Dispute Amur River Incident Changkufeng Italian Colonial Claims Sudetenland Problem and Munich Crisis

Crisis Name

1957 1957 1958 1958–59 1961 1962 1967 1967 1970 1971 1973 1973 1975

(35a) (35b) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40a) (40b) (41) (42) (43a) (43b) (44)

U.S. USSR China USSR USSR USSR U.S. USSR Syria/USSR U.S. USSR U.S. USSR

Italy Japan Germany USSR France USSR USSR China U.S. China UK, France USSR USSR U.S. U.S. U.S. U.S., UK, Fra. U.S. USSR U.S. U.S. USSR U.S. USSR U.S.

UK, France USSR UK, France U.S., UK UK U.S. U.S., UK, Fra. U.S. China U.S. USSR U.S. Syria Turkey Taiwan West Germany West Germany Cuba Egypt, Syria Israel Jordan (Bangladesh) Israel Egypt, Syria Angola

Greece Mongolia Poland Iran Syria Turkey West Germany Taiwan North Korea Taiwan Egypt France, UK AcqU.S. AcqUSSR AcqChina AcqUSSR Compromise AcqUSSR AcqUSSR AcqUSSR AcqUSSR AcqU.S. Compromise Compromise AcqU.S.

AcqItaly War War AcqUSSR AcqFrance AcqUSSR AcqUSSR AcqChina War AcqChina AcqUK, France AcqUSSR

Note: Parentheses are used for those third parties that were not classified as independent states in the Correlates of War project (Singer and Small 1982).

1939 1939 1939–45 1945 1945–46 1946 1948–49 1950 1950–53 1954–55 1956 1956

(24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34a) (34b)

Italy’s Invasion of Albania Nomonhan Incident World War II Azerbaijan Issue Levant Turkish Straits Berlin Blockade Taiwan Strait Korean War Chinese Offshore Islands Suez Canal Suez Canal (Soviet retaliatory threat) Turkish-Syrian Frontier Dispute Turkish-Syrian Frontier Dispute Quemoy-Matsu Berlin Deadline Berlin Wall Cuban Missile Crisis Six Day War Six Day War Black September Bangladesh Yom Kippur War Yom Kippur War Angolan Civil War

68


TABLE 3.3. 1895–1985

The Cases of Direct-Immediate Deterrence between Major Powers,

No.

Year

Challenger

Defender

(1) (2) (3) (4)

1936 1941 1941 1969

Germany Germany Japan China

France USSR U.S. USSR

Outcome AcqFrance War War Compromise

Crisis Name Remilitarization of Rhineland World War II (Barbarossa) World War II (Pearl Harbor) Sino-Soviet Border Dispute (Ussuri River)

testing the role of the explanatory factors (see chap. 1) in accounting for variations in deterrence outcomes. In cases of immediate deterrence, where at least one major power acted as the Defender of its Protégé (extended-immediate deterrence), the test will use deterrence dyads as the unit of analysis. Some of the cases had more than one Challenger, Defender, or Protégé, which results in a total of 70 cases of EID dyads as the unit of analysis of this empirical test. In next part of the book, each chapter examines the individual effect of a speci‹c explanatory factor on deterrence outcomes. This includes the key variables of relative capabilities (chap. 4) and inherent credibility, the latter being examined in terms of the interests at stake, either external (chap. 5) or internal (chap. 6). Chapter 7 tests their joint interactive effect and, most important, compares the explanatory power of two basic models of deterrence—inherent credibility and interdependent commitments—as outlined in the introduction.

Part II

C HAPTER 4

Balance of Power and Power Shifts: Global Interests at Stake

What made war inevitable was the growth of Athenian power and the fear which this caused in Sparta. —Thucydides

Relative capabilities are widely acknowledged as one of the key factors that determine the outcomes of deterrence and other con›ictual situations. In the general international relations literature, realism stands out for its central focus on the idea of power. The realist tradition gives us two opposite approaches to power distributions and war: the balanceof-power school insists on peaceful consequences of power equality, while the power preponderance, or, more accurately, the power shift school, ‹nds this condition unstable and conducive to war. Thus, in the context of deterrence, realism provides us with two mutually exclusive precepts for con›ict avoidance. According to the balance-of-power theory, we should not expect deterrence failure between two equal powers, while according to the power shift approach, the exact opposite is to be expected. This chapter ‹rst offers an analytical survey of these competing realist arguments, then empirically examines the effects of relative power on deterrence outcomes between major powers.

Balance of Power

The international relations literature was dominated for several decades by the classical realist approach, which states that a balance of power creates peaceful structural conditions (Morgenthau 1948; Waltz 1979). This approach was later challenged by power transition theory on both logical and empirical grounds (Organski 1958; Organski and 71

72


Kugler 1980). Related theories of hegemonic decline (Gilpin 1981; Kennedy 1987) and global cycles (Modelski and Thompson 1989) also attempt to demonstrate that the history and logic of major power relations run contrary to the classical realist model. The arguments of both schools have been tested in formal models and systematic empirical analyses. The tests tend to grant greater validity to the power shift argument. Still, there are a number of strong adherents to the balance-of-power school who have shaped the modern study of international relations since the early postwar publication of Morgenthau’s classic Politics Among Nations. Although the balance-of-power notion was in›uential in establishing modern studies of international relations, the idea is quite ancient. In his mid-eighteenth-century political essay “Of the Balance of Power” (1742), English philosopher David Hume did not fail to observe that the phrase “balance of power” could have been the invention of later ages, but the very idea originated in ancient Greece as testi‹ed in the records of Thucydides and other Greek historians. Nevertheless, the policy of balance of power in the Western world was recognized only centuries later, speci‹cally in Renaissance Italy. Machiavelli is often cited for his acknowledgment of the balance-of-power policy of his political master Lorenzo Medici, who, prior to the French invasion of 1494, wrote “Italia era in un certo modo bilanciata” (“In those days when there was a balance of power in Italy,” 1950, 78). Equally famous in his lifetime, the Renaissance historian Guicciardini went a step further in his well-known Storia d’Italia by attributing “the foundations of the tranquility of Italy” to the fact that Lorenzo Medici “employed all his devices, means and directions that the things of Italy should be evenly balanced” (the ‹rst 1579 English trans. by Fenton, cited in Vagts 1948, 97). The idea that balance-of-power policy brings peace continued to attract many great intellectual ‹gures from different epochs, including the modern realists. Multiple Meanings

In his Politics Among Nations (1948), Morgenthau elevated the idea of power to the very core of the modern study of international relations, and balance of power became the central theory in modern realism. The problem that plagues balance-of-power theory, however, is that its key term carries many different meanings. As Claude (1962, 13) noticed, “the trouble with the balance of power is not that it has no meaning, but that it has too many meanings.” Balance-of-power schol-

Balance of Power and Power Shifts

73

ars did not seem overly concerned to narrow down its meaning, and Morgenthau himself listed four different meanings of his central term: (1) as a policy aimed at a certain state of affairs, (2) as an actual state of affairs, (3) as an approximately equal distribution of power, and (4) as any distribution of power (1948, 134). Haas (1953) and Wight (1966) later developed their taxonomy of distinct meanings of balance of power as found in the literature, well illustrating the severity of the conceptual problem. Distinct Meanings of the “Balance of Power”

Haas 1953, 447–58

Wight 1966, 151

1. Distribution of Power 2. Equilibrium 3. 4.

5.

6. 7. 8.

1. An even distribution of power 2. The principle that power ought to be evenly distributed Hegemony 3. The existing (any possible) distribution of power Stability and Peace 4. The principle of equal aggrandizement of the Great Powers at the expense of weak. Instability and War 5. The principle that our side ought to have a margin of strength in order to avert the danger of power becoming unevenly distributed Power Politics generally 6. A special role in maintaining an even distribution of power Universal Law of History 7. A special advantage in the existing distribution of power System and Guide to 8. Predominance policy-making 9. An inherent tendency of international politics to produce an even distribution of power

Despite its diverse connotations, whenever the term balance of power is employed, it is most likely to be used to refer to the balancing policy or the condition of balance. Thus, Quincy Wright (1942, 2:743) ‹ltered out two principal definitions from the array of different usages by distinguishing between the condition of balance (“static balance of power”) and the policy adopted by governments to maintain that con-

74


dition (“dynamic”). Going a step further, Wight (1966, 151) emphasized that the primary meaning refers to an even distribution of power, and Morgenthau (1948, 134) similarly clari‹ed that “whenever the term is used without quali‹cation, it refers to an actual state of affairs in which power is distributed among several nations with approximate equality.” The Balance-of-Power Policy and Dyadic Condition

In his seminal work on world politics that laid the grounds for modern realism, Morgenthau distinguished between two methods of balancing: “The balancing process can be carried on either by diminishing the weight of the heavier scale or by increasing the weight of the lighter one” (1948, 172). The principle of “divide and rule” is the classic manifestation of the former method, while the latter method of adding power to the weaker nation can be carried out through a policy of territorial compensation, arms buildup, or alliances. Later advocates and critics of Morgenthau’s balance-of-power theory concentrated on his theory of balancing through alignments, though Morgenthau himself did not by any means exclude other balancing techniques. One aspect of Morgenthau’s theory of balancing by means of an alliance was particularly criticized for its logical inconsistency. According to Morgenthau (1948, 187), one of the scenarios for the balance-ofpower system “consist[s] of two scales plus a third element, the ‘holder’ of the balance or the ‘balancer.’ The balancer is not permanently identi‹ed with the policies of either nation or group of nations. Its only objective within the system is the maintenance of the balance, regardless of the concrete policies the balance will serve.” Organski (1958) was ‹rst to observe that the idea of equilibrium as the primary goal of a “balancer” is logically inconsistent with Morgenthau’s ‹rst principle of realism that considered all states equal in their primary motivation for power maximization. This theoretical incoherence led Organski and others to reconsider the very idea of the balance of power as a stable system and develop instead an entire range of power shift theories as an alternative explanation. As for balance of power itself, recent literature has devoted greater attention to the methods of balancing versus bandwagoning. While balancing in the narrower sense refers to the process of alignment against the prevailing power or threat, the term bandwagoning is used to describe the process of siding with the strongest power or threat. Both Waltz (1979, 126) and Walt (1987, 33) maintain that balancing is


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more common than bandwagoning, but Schweller (1994) found the reverse pattern in his historical analysis.1 If Machiavelli was one of the ‹rst to recognize the of‹cial policy of power balancing in Lorenzo Medici’s Italy, he was also one of the ‹rst skeptics concerning the prudence of such a policy: In those days when there was a balance of power in Italy, this was doubtless well done, but does not seem to me to be a good precept for the present time, for I do not believe that the divisions thus created ever do any good; on the contrary it is certain that when the enemy approaches, the cities thus divided will be at once lost, for the weaker faction will always side with the enemy and the other will not be able to stand. (Machiavelli, Prince, trans. Ricci, 1950, chapter XX, 78) Over the past two centuries, statecraft based on balancing policies has been lauded by such illustrious ‹gures as Metternich, Castlereagh, Churchill, and Kissinger. It has encountered much skepticism as well. Even those scholars who advocated the balance-of-power approach moved in the direction of studying it as a situation or condition rather than as part of a nation’s intentional policy. As a condition, balance of power can be conceived either as a dyadic situation between any pair of states or as a structural condition of the entire international system. It is interesting to note that most empirical research has applied a dyadic approach, while theoretical progress of the balance-of-power school has been mostly limited to structural analyses, as exempli‹ed in the neorealist works (e.g., Waltz 1979). Balance-of-Power Structures: Bipolarity versus Multipolarity

Neorealism, or structural realism, broadens the classical realist theory by focusing on the impact that system properties have on the probability of war.2 Waltz (1979), one of the most in›uential neorealists, makes the case for a systemic theory of international politics, thus diverging from traditional balance-of-power theorists. Unlike Morgenthau, who considers balance of power to result from a state’s policies, Waltz (1979, 119) maintains that “these balances tend to form whether some or all states consciously aim to establish and maintain balance, or whether some or all states aim for universal domination.” Like other structural realists, he is more concerned with the impact of power

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structures on states’ behavior, rather than the reverse. In the structural approach, therefore, whether states consciously pursue a balancing policy or not is irrelevant for explaining the probability of peace or war. One major debate in the structural balance-of-power approach is centered on the effects of polarity (i.e., the number of power centers in the system) on the probability of war. Morgenthau (1948, 332–35) and Deutsch and Singer (1964) advance an argument about the stabilizing effects of a multipolar balance of power. In this argument, shifting alliances are considered to be an important element of multipolar stability. On the other hand, Waltz (1964, 1979) develops a theory of bipolar stability in which the main source of power capabilities is internal. It is interesting that there have been only a few attempts to analyze the balance-of-power structure deductively. Most formal models have found tripolarity to be the most stable system (e.g., Wagner 1986; Niou, Ordeshook, and Rose 1989). The equilibrium of Powell’s game (1996), however, contradicts the expectations of both balance-ofpower (bipolar or multipolar) and power preponderance theories, suggesting instead that stability is most likely when the expected bene‹ts from war are not signi‹cantly different from the status quo distribution of bene‹ts. Empirically the results are inconclusive. Hopf’s study (1991a), though restricted to the shorter period from 1495 to 1559, did not ‹nd any signi‹cant difference in warfare frequency between bipolar and multipolar European systems. Thompson (1986) and Levy (1984) obtained similar results over a longer time-span of nearly ‹ve centuries from 1494 to 1983. Ostrom and Aldrich (1978), on the other hand, found a curvilinear relationship between polarity and major power wars. Wayman (1984) reported mixed and quite distinct results. The number of wars was lower in a bipolar system if polarity was measured in terms of the individual capabilities of major powers. On the other hand, the magnitude of warfare decreased in multipolar systems if polarity was measured in terms of alliance clusters. The ‹ndings of Brecher, James, and Wilkenfeld’s study (1990) were also mixed. While there was generally a lower frequency of international crises in multipolarity, in instances of major power crises the reverse pattern was apparent: major power crises occurred with less frequency in bipolar systems. Nevertheless, as Mans‹eld (1993) also points out, it is erroneous to assume that the poles are generally similar in their power base. That is, there can be both equal and unequal distributions of power between the poles in either bipolarity or multipolarity. As the fundamental premise of the balance-of-power theory is that war


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becomes more likely when there are power inequalities, the neorealist focus on structural conditions (polarity) does not always have to be consistent with this premise. For both theoretical and empirical reasons, a number of scholars shifted their analysis from the structural to dyadic level when considering the linkage between power distribution and international con›icts, including deterrence and wars. For example, in their extensive study, Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman (1988) did not ‹nd structural variables, including polarity, to affect the probability of war, further shifting attention from systemic to dyadic power distributions. The arguments of both the classical balance-of-power theory (Morgenthau 1948) and power shift theories are also essentially dyadic. For these reasons, most empirical research “has clearly favored dyadic over systemic explanations for understanding such key phenomena as the outbreak of war” (James 1995, 182). The dyadic approach is thus also appropriate for the empirical analysis in this book. Furthermore, deterrence is not a systemic property, and a systemic level of analysis could hardly be a valid choice for its empirical analysis. Before presenting the results of previous empirical tests based on a dyadic level of analysis and those of this study, major theoretical arguments of the power shift school need ‹rst be clari‹ed.

Power Shift Theories

Organski (1958) was the ‹rst international relations scholar to challenge the balance-of-power paradigm. His power transition theory provided the foundation for the emergence of a number of similar theories jointly referred to as power-shift theories. Their common argument is that systemic instability and the likelihood of major wars do not decrease, but rather increase during periods of power parity when there are power shifts between major contenders in the system.3 Power preponderance, therefore, creates a much more peaceful structural condition. The preponderant nation is considered to be satis‹ed with its advantaged position in the system, while other major powers are not capable of challenging the established order. The Pax Britannica and Pax Americana offer historical evidence for this argument. By contrast, the condition of parity between two or more major powers is assumed to create a much less stable condition. Under such circumstances, more than one power is capable of assuming a leading role in the international system. The period of power parity, when a shift in

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power positions occurs between a rising challenger and a dominant status quo power, is thus a period of competition for leadership and may be critical for systemic stability. The two world wars in the twentieth century are examples of the unstable nature of this condition as the rise of German power brought an end to the era of Pax Britannica. Power shift theories may be classi‹ed according to the key notions they use to support their central argument: power transition (Organski and Kugler), hegemonic stability (Gilpin), global cycles (Modelski and Thompson), Kondratieff waves (Goldstein), and the world-system (Wallerstein, Chase-Dunn). In addition, there are several individual works that are not strictly classi‹able under the power shift framework and yet they support some of its central tenets (e.g., Midlarsky, Blainey). After a brief survey of these theories, empirical evidence for the power transition model will be reviewed as this theory was most frequently examined within the power shift paradigm. Power Transition

Power transition theory (Organski 1958; Organski and Kugler 1980; Kugler and Organski 1989) is often regarded as the most important challenge to the prevailing balance-of-power theory in the ‹eld (Morgenthau 1948; Waltz 1979). They differ in several critical respects (see also Kugler and Organski 1989). First, the classical realist assumption regarding the anarchical nature of the international system is challenged by the alternative assumption that the international order is hierarchically structured (Organski 1958). In a hierarchical system, some states are presumed to be satis‹ed with their place in the system, while others are not. Satisfaction with the existing hierarchy is one of the critical factors in the power transition model. “Degrees of satisfaction as well as power are critical determinants of peace and con›ict” (Kugler and Organski 1989, 173). Satis‹ed states do not, in general, initiate con›icts. A negative attitude toward the status quo distinguishes a potential Challenger from the order’s Defender. In the classical realist model, however, where all states are presumed to be dissatis‹ed due to their constant security dilemma, preponderance in power capabilities is suf‹cient to provide an incentive to initiate war. The second difference between the two theories lies in their disagreement over the question of what is the most destabilizing power distribution. In the balance-of-power framework where anarchy


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reigns, states are seen as power-maximizers intent on preserving and enhancing their security. An advantage in capabilities facilitates the pursuit of this goal, making power preponderance a critical requirement for initiating a con›ict. Inversely, parity constrains con›ict initiation, thus creating a stable environment. Assumptions about the ordered nature of the international system bring power transition theory to the opposite conclusion about a more stable power distribution. Similarly to hegemonic stability and long cycle theories (Gilpin 1981; Modelski and Thompson 1989), power transition theory maintains that a large power gap dividing the dominant nation from the next layer of major powers facilitates maintenance of the international order, as created by the dominant nation. Instability arises when the power gap between the dominant nation and a challenger narrows. As Organski and Kugler (1980, 20) argue, “the source of war is to be found in the differences in size and rates of growth of the members of the international system.” It is precisely the competition for leadership in the international system between a declining status quo power and a rising dissatis‹ed challenger, commonly occurring when they reach parity, that creates the critical condition for the outbreak of major wars. The third difference is that “the balance of power is a theory of statics, while the power transition is a theory of dynamics” (Siverson and Miller 1996, 58). Kaplan (1957) included dynamic changes in the balance-of-power systems, but he did not explain the underlying dynamics and reasons for such changes. Organski and Kugler (1980) overcame this limitation by pointing to the differential rate of growth between the status quo defender and challenger as a source of changes, leading to destabilizing power balances and violent power transitions. Hegemonic Decline

Gilpin’s (1981) theory of hegemonic war is based on an important premise, one that also substitutes hierarchical order for anarchy in the international system. As he argues, “although the international system is one of anarchy (i.e., absence of formal governmental authority), the system does exercise an element of control over the behavior of states” (28). Gilpin further identi‹es analogous mechanisms of control in domestic and international systems. While the components of domestic systems consist of laws, property rights, the domestic economy, authority, and government, their international counterparts may be

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found respectively in the rules of the system, division of territory, international economy, hierarchy of prestige, and great power dominance (distribution of power). According to Gilpin, the system is stable as long as the distribution of power is asymmetric, with a hegemon providing “public goods” to the system while, at the same time, designing other elements of the system to its own advantage. As both the system and its hegemon bene‹t from the asymmetric power distribution, there is an overall condition of “hegemonic stability.” However, “once a society reaches the limits of its expansion, it has great dif‹culty in maintaining its position and arresting its eventual decline” (Gilpin 1981, 185). That is, the costs to the hegemon for maintaining order begin to exceed its revenues. Meanwhile, other powers, unencumbered by the costs of dominance, are able to rise relative to the hegemon. “In time, the differential rates of growth of declining and rising states in the system produce a decisive redistribution of power and result in disequilibrium in the system.” This “disequilibrium” is the result of a disjuncture between the new distribution of power and the other components of the system which were previously designed by the hegemon. Consequently, “a rising state attempts to change the rules governing the international system, the division of the spheres of in›uence, and, most important of all, the international distribution of territory” (185, 187). Gilpin points out that the disequilibrium is most likely to be resolved by a “hegemonic war,” unless the declining hegemon somehow succeeds in restoring the equilibrium. Yet, declining hegemons often fail in their attempts to restore the status quo peacefully. Kennedy (1987) ‹gures most prominently among historians whose argument is similar to Gilpin’s theory. In his sweeping attempt to account for the rise and fall of the great powers throughout all of human history, Kennedy attributes structural changes in the international system to the hegemon’s relative decline. This decline results from the hegemon’s “imperial overstretch,” which occurs as the military burden of maintaining hegemonic order and global interests weakens the economic base of the hegemon. As other great powers do not share the same military burden of maintaining the existing order, their economic growth accelerates at a faster pace and ultimately surpasses that of the hegemon. Kennedy’s goal was not to develop a general theory of war, but rather to offer an account of why empires eventually vanish, to be replaced by others that repeat the same cycle of rise and decline. Nevertheless, the logic of his argument is identical to the core assumptions found in power shift theories.


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Global Cycles

Modelski and Thompson (1989) argue that the global system evolves through cycles, each approximately a hundred years in duration. Each period is seen as a four-phase process. The phase of Macrodecision (global war) is marked by profound and severe violence, but it also settles the question of leadership. The Implementation (world power) phase sees one nation-state, which acts as a global leader, implement major new programs. In Agenda setting (delegitimation), questions are raised about the legitimacy of that leadership, and new problems enter the global agenda. In the phase of Coalitioning (deconcentration), leadership reaches a low point; it is an open season for challengers and for new coalitions. (24) The theory is, therefore, more comprehensive in scope, aspiring to explain the history of the modern world system (since 1494) as a cyclical process. The explanation of global warfare is only one component of this larger framework, when it might occur in the “macrodecision” phase, which can be either violent or nonviolent (Modelski and Thompson 1989, 49). In any event, Modelski and Thompson do offer an explanation of system-transforming wars, as they interpret a “global war” as “a ‹ght to determine the constitution or authority arrangement of the global political system” (Thompson 1988, 46). Like Organski and Kugler (1980) and Gilpin (1981), they also ‹nd the cause of major con›icts in an uneven rate of growth between the “world power” and the “challenger.” On the other hand, they claim neither uncertainty nor the challenger’s intention to assume global dominance as the triggering factor for global war. That is, “global wars tend to begin as relatively localized affairs, becoming global in scope only after the globally oriented power(s) decides to participate. Thus, what we see in retrospect as a major challenge may not have been fully intended as one by the challenger’s decision-makers” (Thompson 1983, 349). The historical argument is that challengers, driven by their fast economic growth, sought mostly limited regional expansion. But if the challenger’s continental expansion comprised the core region of the global system, it was likely to trigger global war. The globally oriented world power, whose superior naval capabilities guarantee it a global reach, would then react

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when it saw its leading position threatened by this continental expansion in “the active zone of the global system.” Kondratieff Waves

Goldstein’s (1985) attempt to link the onset of major power warfare with the Kondratieff waves represents yet another cyclical approach to the study of major powers. In his analysis of the economic cycles of core states since 1495 (i.e., Kondratieff waves), Goldstein reports the occurrence of synchronic war cycles. More speci‹cally, he characterizes economic long waves, each lasting about ‹fty years, as an alternation of downswings and upswings in prices. In search of a possible correlation between the economic phases and international warfare, he reports that “the upswing periods are characterized not by more wars than on the downswings, nor by wars that last much longer, but by bigger wars—six to twenty times bigger as indicated by battle-fatalities” (Goldstein 1985, 424–25). A further important ‹nding is that only the wars between great powers are strongly correlated with the economic phase periods (425). Goldstein does not consider economic waves as triggering factors for major power wars, but rather reverses the causal direction. Each war cycle ends with major power warfare and, since it occurs almost simultaneously with the end of an in›ationary upswing in the economic cycle, Goldstein is more inclined to explain the Kondratieff waves by such wars rather than vice versa. He argues: “These observations, connecting war to major in›ationary periods on long wave upswings, are consistent with the theory that wars cause long economic waves. However, . . . [o]ne must reserve the possibility of bidirectional causality between economics and war” (1985, 431). Notwithstanding this apparently unresolved problem of causality, Goldstein’s analysis can still be interpreted as a contribution to the power shift paradigm of international con›ict. In this respect, his important argument is that the upswing escalatory phase, which ends with major power warfare, is marked by “a shift away from unilateral leadership toward the classical rules of power balancing and alliance formation” (1985, 434). The World-System

Wallerstein’s (1984) primary concern is to explain the history of the modern “world-system” in terms of the capitalist “world-economy” as


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it emerged in the mid–‹fteenth century. World wars are interpreted as periodic phases in the expansionary patterns of world capitalism. The main characteristic of the modern world-system is its division between core and periphery, with the productive superiority of core states giving them the means to exploit weak and peripheral regions. A single power, leading in industrial production, agriculture, commerce, and ‹nance, is characterized by Wallerstein to rise above other core states as a hegemon. The productive, commercial, and ‹nancial superiority of the single hegemon coincides with periods of general expansion in the world economy. As the hegemon’s costs of advancing its imperialistic interests begin to increase, its gains start to decline relative to the gains of other core states. Intensifying competition within the core begins to take place, occurring almost simultaneously with an emerging stagnation in the world economy. This overall stagnation follows from the previous expansionist phase as supply begins to exceed demand. Rival competition among the core states ensues as each core power attempts to restructure the world economy to its own advantage. This situation eventually leads to world wars, which Wallerstein interprets as the succession struggles that follow the relative decline of a hegemonic power. Chase-Dunn’s (1981) variant of the world-system perspective also ties a radical economic analysis to an explanation of major wars. In his theory, an uneven rate of economic growth between the declining hegemon and other core powers is also said to be at the root of “world wars.” This process of changing power differentials in the core area results from the dynamics of capitalist development. As Chase-Dunn summarizes his argument: The accumulation process expands within a certain political framework to the point where that framework is no longer adequate to the scale of world commodity production and distribution. Thus world wars and the rise and fall of hegemonic core powers can be understood as the violent reorganizations of production relations on a world scale, which allows the accumulation process to adjust to its own contradictions and to begin again on a new scale. (1981, 23) Other Power Shift Approaches

Several authors develop arguments that do not strictly belong to any of the reviewed theories within the power shift paradigm, either because

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they are more eclectic (e.g., “power cycle” developed by Doran 1989; see also Vayrynen 1983) or simply tangential to the paradigm (e.g., Midlarsky 1986, 1989; Blainey 1988). Regardless, their underlying ideas reinforce, at least in part, the power shift premise. Blainey (1988), for instance, develops an argument that essentially opposes the balance-of-power idea. As he contends, wars break out when parties disagree about their relative bargaining positions, which are based on their power differentials. If there is a disagreement about relative power, implying uncertain chances of winning or losing, a peaceful solution to a crisis is less likely. Blainey’s approach, however, includes an important caveat to the strictly power-based premise: “It is not the actual distribution or balance of power which is vital: it is rather the way in which national leaders think that power is distributed” (1988, 114). For this reason, peace breaks out in situations of decisive power superiority, such as those emerging at the end of wars with recognizable winning and losing sides. What is implied here is that power proximity creates uncertainty concerning the relative strength of nations, and this situation makes war-triggering disagreements over bargaining positions more likely. Uncertainty, therefore, is a crucial ingredient in Blainey’s “perceptual” formulation of an essentially power preponderance argument. Midlarsky (1986, 1989) develops the idea of “hierarchical equilibrium” to describe the conditions for systemic peace. Essentially, it is an attempt to reconcile balance-of-power and power transition theories, by positing that a stable international structure (i.e., hierarchical equilibrium) consists of: (a) two or more alliances (or other loose hierarchies such as loosely knit empires) of varying size and composition, but clearly including a great power and a number of small powers within each; and (b) a relatively large number of small powers not formally associated with any of the great powers. (1986, 82) His model incorporates an element of power transition theory by requiring that “the power differentials within each hierarchy are substantial” (1989, 56). On the other hand, an element of balance-ofpower theory is also incorporated through the requirement of rough power equality among multiple hierarchies. Midlarsky argues that only under these conditions can a dangerous interdependence of crises be avoided. Otherwise, the breakdown of a hierarchical equilibrium struc-


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ture may lead to the accumulation of interdependent and unresolved disputes and their escalation to “systemic war.”

Power Balance versus Power Shifts: Empirical Evidence

Empirical evidence for either power paradigm has not been conclusive. Critical tests of parity and preponderance assumptions ‹nd support for each of them, but during different centuries (Singer, Bremer, and Stuckey 1972). Also applying a systemic analysis, Mans‹eld (1988) found a higher number of wars during unipolar periods when a hegemon was dominating the system, but Thompson (1986) and Spiezio (1990) report the opposite ‹ndings. Unlike the aggregate-level analyses, examinations of power distribution as a dimension of dyadic relationships gave more leverage to the power transition argument. While a few analyses failed to ‹nd a correlation between power parity and war (Ferris 1973; Siverson and Tenefoss 1984), most other tests reported a positive correlation (Garnham 1976; Weede 1976; Organski and Kugler 1980; Houweling and Siccama 1988, 1991; Moul 1988; Kim 1989, 1991, 1992; Bueno de Mesquita 1990; Gochman 1990; Bremer 1992; Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992; Geller 1992; Kim and Morrow 1992; Lemke and Werner 1996; De Soysa, Oneal, and Park 1997; Werner 1999). In short, most of dyadic empirical analyses found parity or transition to be a necessary, but not a suf‹cient, condition for war. It is important, however, to recognize that many of these tests used different research designs, different temporal and spatial domains, and different operational de‹nitions of the independent and dependent variables. For instance, while the original version of the theory was designed to explain the behavior of major “contenders” in the system (i.e., only the upper layer of major powers), most empirical analyses examined the behavior of all major powers. Some analyses went a step further to test power transition in cases of smaller states (e.g., Garnham 1976; Weede 1976; Lemke 1996; Lemke and Werner 1996). The question can be raised then whether power transition theory can be considered as a general theory of war or, rather, as a more speci‹c theory of major power or system-transforming wars. The temporal domain of these studies also ranged from the period 1648–1975 (Kim 1992) to the period 1969–74 (Garnham 1976) or 1950–69 (Weede 1976). Most analyses, however, use a time span from 1815 to 1975 (since the Napoleonic Wars). The original study by Organski and Kugler (1980)

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looked at the period since 1870, the beginnings of modern industrialization for most major powers. The measurement of power, as a critical variable, was based largely on internal capabilities (GNP or, alternatively, the Composite Index of National Capabilities), although some studies also de‹ned power in terms of alliances (e.g., Kim 1991). These and many other differences make it dif‹cult to compare ‹ndings, but some generalizations can still be made in support of a principal line of the power transition argument. Some empirical studies stand out for their theoretical rami‹cations regarding the transition argument. Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman (1992) augment power factors with the importance of domestic politics for foreign con›ict behavior. But, generally, they do ‹nd that power transition theory fares better than the balance-ofpower theory. Kim (1991) reports that parity and a challenger’s dissatisfaction increase the likelihood of war, but transition and relative growth rates do not matter signi‹cantly. Moreover, he de‹nes power in terms of alliances rather than just in terms of internal capabilities. Kim and Morrow (1992) make several extensions to the power transition model: they ‹nd that war is more likely during periods of equality, but that it will not occur unless the dissatis‹ed challenger is risk-acceptant, the declining defender is risk-averse, and the costs of war decrease as well. They also report that both the growth rate of nations and the transition point do not have an impact on the probability of war. Gochman (1990), however, reports a signi‹cant correlation between rapid rates of power change and the probability of war (see also Werner 1999). In his formal derivation, Zagare (1987) con‹rms that war may occur only during parity, but adds that peace may also ensue if the revisionist power is risk-averse. Kugler and Zagare (1987, 1990) further elaborate formal speci‹cations of and derivations from the model, and ‹nd that war is indeed more likely under parity, but only if both sides are risk-acceptant or one side is risk-acceptant while the other is riskneutral. Common to both the empirical ‹ndings of Kim and Morrow (1992) and the formal analyses of Kugler and Zagare (1987, 1990) and Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman (1992) is the importance of a state’s risk-propensity. The level of satisfaction with the international order is a key element in the power transition version of power shift theory. Power transition is only a necessary condition for war, while dissatisfaction with the status quo is a critical requirement for these periods of transition to erupt into war (Organski 1958, 325–33). Despite its central place in the


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theory, the issue of dissatisfaction was not originally tested (Organski and Kugler 1980) and was largely ignored in empirical analyses. Yet, all formal models of power transition point to the critical importance of the challenger’s dissatisfaction (Kugler and Zagare 1987, 1990; Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992; Danilovic 1996; Zagare and Kilgour 2000). Only recently there were several attempts to operationalize this concept. Operational de‹nitions of dissatisfaction are still in the developmental stage and, so far, have included such indicators as similarities in alliance portfolios between the dominant nation and other powers (Kim 1989, 1991; Kim and Morrow 1992), money market discount rates (Bueno de Mesquita 1990), “frustration” resulting from “status inconsistency” (Danilovic 1996), domestic regime types (Lemke and Reed 1996), the rate of arms buildup (Werner and Kugler 1996), and related “extraordinary growth” of military expenditures (Lemke and Werner 1996). The next chapter will offer a new, geopolitical approach to understanding the issue of dissatisfaction with the status quo as the critical variable for differentiating between peaceful and violent power distributions. Before moving to the geopolitical aspect of major power rivalry and deterrence, this chapter will outline the dynamics of power change in the twentieth century. The validity of the alternative arguments of the balance-of-power and power shift schools concerning deterrence outcomes will then be tested.

Power Trends, 1895–1985 National Power: Alternative Indicators

While there are several indices of power, most studies use the Composite Index of National Capabilities developed by J. David Singer in the Correlates of War project (also known as the COW index). The index is a combination of demographic, industrial, and military components and each component is presented with two indicators: (1) demographic size, measured by total population and urban population (cities larger than 20,000); (2) industrial potential, operationalized in terms of iron or steel production and energy consumption; and (3) military capabilities, indicated by size of the armed forces and military expenditures (in U.S. dollar values). For this study, the COW index for a major power is constructed as a percentage of the major power total for each indicator. These percentages are added and then divided by the number of

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indicators. In other words, the index gives equal weight to each dimension of a nation’s power potential.4 Although the index has been widely used in empirical analyses, an alternative measure would be a nation’s gross national product (GNP) or its gross domestic product (GDP). It is interesting that Organski and Kugler’s original formulation and test of power transition theory employs GNP as a power indicator, while most other studies that tested and largely con‹rmed their theory used the COW index. Merritt and Zinnes (1989) compared several power indices and found the scores for the most powerful nations to be twice as consistent between the indices as the scores for less powerful nations. Similarly, Lemke and Werner (1996, 246) report a high correlation between GDP and COW (r = 0.85) for great powers. On the other hand, Kugler and Arbetman (1989) found that the COW index and GNP measure the strength of most powerful nations differently. While they did not ‹nd such a variance for smaller major powers, the difference arises for major contenders mostly because of the explicit inclusion of military indicators in the COW index. Furthermore, De Soysa, Oneal, and Park (1997) report differences between major powers and contenders in their sensitivity to power measures. Speci‹cally, they found support for power transition theory for all major powers when the COW index was used, but this support was lacking for contenders unless the GDP was used as an indicator. The COW index is often chosen for empirical tests partly because GNP is still a somewhat unreliable indicator for several critical years for Germany and Russia/USSR. Data are scarce and largely missing for czarist Russia at the turn of the century (and earlier), and the Russian of‹cial statistical reports did not present the country’s GNP during the Soviet period. Despite a few attempts to reconstruct the Soviet GNP (e.g., Maddison 1969), these data are not yet consistently reliable for the entire period. Most recently, Maddison (1995) produced a historical series of national gross domestic products for the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, which is also the main source of GDP data in this book. The Dynamics of Power Rise and Decline, 1895–1985

Each major power’s percentage share of their joint power potential, measured by the COW National Capability index, is presented for every ‹ve-year period in table 4.1. Figures 4.1 through 4.4 present the dynamics of relative power growth among major powers during the


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entire period, showing the COW index as a composite score (‹g. 4.1) and trends for its military and economic components (‹gs. 4.2 and 4.3, respectively). Figure 4.4 shows GDP growth for each major power, also presented as a percentage share in the major power total. As indicated in ‹gure 4.1 and table 4.1, several transitions occurred during the entire period if we measure power with the COW composite index. In the period 1895 through 1914, Germany passed Great Britain and Russia. Russia also reached Great Britain in its power potential, but Britain quickly regained a marginal advantage

TABLE 4.1. Percentage Distribution of the COW National Capability Index among Major Powers, 1895–1985 Year

U.S.

U.K.

France

Germany

A-H

Italy

Russia

Japan

1895 1900 1905 1910 1914

23.53 22.20 24.58 26.39 24.16

20.23 21.03 14.15 14.09 15.87

9.88 9.89 8.17 9.38 9.55

14.46 16.16 14.93 16.91 18.70

7.05 6.23 5.54 6.20 8.54

4.57 4.13 3.62 4.34 3.61

15.38 16.11 22.60 17.58 15.43

4.90 4.26 6.41 5.11 4.96

U.S.

U.K.

France

Germany

Italy

Russia

Japan

34.55 33.63 30.95 25.65 24.22

24.09 13.99 11.72 10.09 12.74

6.51 10.04 9.81 7.60 5.73

4.18 11.23 10.80 14.05 23.98

4.98 5.89 6.16 8.76 4.45

18.20 17.82 23.02 26.01 20.55

U.S.

U.K.

France

Russia

China

60.74 37.82 38.60 33.44 34.25 32.85 28.62 27.46 26.13 30.29 35.25

12.02 9.14 8.20 6.88 6.67 5.89 5.35 4.69 4.10 5.14 5.65

1.81 4.91 4.90 5.56 4.97 4.53 4.43 4.72 3.89 5.31 5.87

23.61 26.52 27.88 27.26 28.69 30.01 33.50 33.97 35.57 29.43 12.56

1.83 21.62 20.42 26.86 25.42 26.72 28.10 29.16 30.32 29.82 40.67

1920 1925 1930 1935 1939

1946 1950 1955 1960 1965 1970 1975 1980 1985 1990a 1995a

7.49 7.41 7.54 7.83 9.33

Note: All rows total 100 percent. aThe COW National Capabilities data are not available for 1990 and 1995. Figures for these years were calculated from the following sources: United Nations, Statistical Yearbooks 1990/91, 1993, 1996, 1997 (New York, 1993, 1995, 1999, 2000); United Nations, Demographic Yearbooks 1993, 1995, 1996, 1998 (New York, 1995, 1997, 1999, 2000); SIPRI Yearbook 1999: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security (Oxford University Press, 1999); The Statesman’s Year-book 1991–1992, 1996–1997, 2001 (New York: St. Martin’s Press).

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Fig. 4.1. COW national capability index of major powers, 1895–1985

over Russia. During the interwar period, Germany again passed both Britain and later the USSR in the 1930s. Power overtaking further occurred between Japan and France. According to the COW index, overtaking took place even during the Cold War period, with the Soviet Union passing the capabilities of the United States during the 1960s and early 1970s. China also passed the United States in the early 1980s according to the COW index. On the other hand, military and economic components of the COW index (see ‹gs. 4.2 and 4.3) show quite different trajectories for the rise and decline of major powers. The growth of military capabilities is more volatile, while economic growth seems to show less dramatic changes. The dynamic of GDP growth (see ‹g. 4.4) resembles that of the COW economic components (‹g. 4.3), suggesting more stable developments in economic growth, though not always free from the incidents of power overtaking.

Fig. 4.2.

Fig. 4.3.

COW military power index of major powers, 1895–1985

COW economic power index of major powers, 1895–1985

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Fig. 4.4.

Gross domestic product of major powers, 1895–1985

The Impact of Relative Capabilities on Deterrence Outcomes

A theoretical framework for explaining deterrence outcomes needs to incorporate both capability and credibility as key factors. As previously suggested, the deterrence literature has long focused on relative capabilities, neglecting the impact of the inherent credibility of threats on the probability of their success. The key argument in this book is that both are necessary to any explanatory framework of deterrence outcomes. This argument will be fully tested in chapter 7, while this and the following two chapters will examine the predictive power of each factor individually. Measurements

Relative capabilities simply capture a major power’s strength relative to that of another power. It is commonly measured as the ratio of one side’s capability to the sum of both sides’ capabilities. The higher the value of this variable, the more powerful the country becomes relative to another. In this case, relative capability is measured by the ratio of the Defender’s capability to the sum of the Defender’s and the Chal-


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lenger’s capabilities. The value of the variable ranges from zero to one hundred indicating a relatively more powerful Defender as the value increases. As the variable’s value decreases, the Defender’s relative capability becomes either equal to or less than the Challenger’s capabilities, with the point of parity at 50.0. The Challenger is vastly superior to the Defender if the variable’s value is closer to zero. The main power shift theories—power transition, hegemonic decline, and global cycle—all primarily focus on the top layer of great powers, which are identi‹ed as global contenders in chapter 2 (see table 2.5). Their theoretical arguments were later empirically extended to include other major powers and even nonmajor states. In order to examine whether the power shift argument is universally applicable to all major powers or rather restricted only to global contenders, my analysis presents empirical ‹ndings for both classes of powers. Empirical Analysis

A brief descriptive survey of the power variable (see table 4.2) shows that the mean value for power distribution was close to parity with a relatively high standard deviation indicating adequate variance in the 70 cases of deterrence dyads.5 For the most part this trend is consistent across different power indicators and similar for both general contenders and major powers in general. Table 4.3 presents a multinomial logit model of deterrence outcomes. As explained in appendix D, parameter estimates indicate the predicted marginal effects of each explanatory variable on the log-odds ratio between two outcomes in each possible pair of deterrence out-

TABLE 4.2.

Descriptive Statistics for Relative Capabilities

Explanatory Variables All Major Powers Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Defender’s Relative Military Power (COW) Defender’s Relative GDP Global Contenders Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Defender’s Relative Military Power (COW) Defender’s Relative GDP

Standard Mean Value Deviation Minimum

Maximum

Cases

49.42

16.94

15.71

83.87

69

46.27 56.18

20.18 18.87

11.58 18.71

91.38 83.15

70 68

48.68

10.99

19.29

69.59

40

45.29 57.29

13.08 15.80

12.75 27.72

70.65 83.15

40 38

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comes. The substantive impact of relative power on deterrence outcomes is assessed by means of the predicted probabilities of each outcome for different power con‹gurations. They are calculated according to equations 1 and 2 (see appendix D) and reported in table 4.4. Table 4.3 shows that relative power is a signi‹cant predictor of behavior given that the overall explanatory power of the model is strong (chi-square is signi‹cant regardless of power measures). However, the degree of signi‹cance for relative power varies for different pairs of outcomes. The most striking ‹nding is that, almost uniformly across all three power measures, the signi‹cance of the power predictor is high only for those pairs of outcomes that include the Challenger’s

TABLE 4.3. The Impact of Relative Power on Deterrence Outcomes for All Major Powers, Multinomial Logit Models

Variable

Compromise AcqCh vs. vs. AcqDef AcqDef

Model 1 Def’s Relative Power (COW)

.107 .041** (.025) (.022) Constant –.490 –1.010 (1.228) (1.135) Model Chi-Square (df) = 12.008*** (3) Log Likelihood Function = –79.048 N = 69 (missing data for 1 case) Model 2 Def’s Relative Military Power –.017 .023* (.022) .018 Constant .680 –.039 (.985) (.889) Model Chi-Square (df) = 7.218** (3) Log Likelihood Function = –83.334 N = 70 Model 3 Def’s Relative GDP

–.015 .030* (.022) (.019) Constant .554 –.650 (1.188) (1.088) Model Chi-Square (df) = 7.372** (3) Log Likelihood Function = –79.582 N = 68 (missing data for 2 cases) Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

War Compromise War War vs. vs. vs. vs. AcqDef AcqCh AcqCh Compromise –.034 (.027) 1.206 (1.206)

–.040** (.022) .961 (1.137)

–.075*** (.026) 2.217** (1.162)

–.035* (.028) 1.255 (1.211)

–.013 (.022) .448 (1.012)

–.040** (.019) .719 (.866)

–.036** (.019) .487 (.893)

.004 (.022) –.232 (.967)

–.004 (.022) .105 (1.198)

–.045** (.020) 1.204 (1.098)

–.034** (.019) .756 (1.101)

.011 (.023) –.449 (1.196)


95

acquiescence as an option. The direction of correlation indicates that the stronger the Defender is relative to the Challenger, the more likely it is that Challenger’s acquiescence will dominate over all other deterrence outcomes. Table 4.4 also reveals the limited explanatory power of relative capabilities in a substantive sense. It is the strongest predictor of outcomes under the condition of Defender’s power superiority (e.g., a two-to-one ratio of capabilities to the Defender’s advantage, as in table 4.4), when the Challenger’s acquiescence is the most likely outcome. This predictive power declines as power shifts to the Challenger’s advantage. For example, the probability of all four outcomes is almost even if the ratio of capabilities is two-to-one to the Challenger’s advantage. In other words, if we consider relative power alone, as in the models presented in tables 4.3 and 4.4, either the results are less robust (as in the situation of the Challenger’s power superiority) or, at best, they can provide only an intuitive ‹nding (e.g., Challenger is likely to acquiesce when it is relatively weak). As for the parity condition, neither balance-of-power nor power shift theories were robustly con‹rmed or rejected. The results are again skewed to indicate the outcome of Challenger’s acquiescence, the singular outcome that the power-based TABLE 4.4. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes for All Major Powers AcqDef p ∆

AcqCh p ∆

COW Defender’s Power Superiority Power Parity Challenger’s Power Superiority

12.50 18.31 +5.8 22.20 +3.9

70.29 51.94 –18.3 31.76 –20.2

12.79 18.40 +5.6 21.91 +3.5

4.42 11.35 +6.9 24.12 +12.8

Military Capabilities (COW) Defender’s Military Superiority Military Parity Challenger’s Military Superiority

14.70 17.44 +2.7 19.13 +1.7

66.05 53.31 –12.7 39.77 –13.5

9.53 14.94 +5.4 21.64 +6.7

9.72 14.30 19.46

+4.6 +5.1

GDP Defender’s Superiority Economic Parity Challenger’s Superiority

15.69 19.65 +3.9 22.42 +2.8

60.58 46.00 –14.6 31.82 –14.2

10.13 16.25 +6.1 23.76 +7.5

13.60 18.11 22.00

+4.5 +3.9

Power Distribution

Compromise p ∆

War p

∆

Note: Power superiority is calculated as a two-to-one ratio of forces. Predicted probabilities of deterrence outcomes (p) are calculated according to equations 1 and 2 (see appendix D). The sum of predicted probabilities for all four deterrence outcomes should yield a total of 100 percent. The marginal change (∆) presents a percentage change in the predicted probabilities from the value above in the table. For example, using COW measure, changing power distribution from the Defender’s superiority to power parity increases the probability that the Defender will acquiesce by 5.8 percentage points.

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model seems to explain best at the expense of its predictive power for the other three outcomes. Overall, the ‹ndings are neither robust enough nor suf‹ciently interesting to warrant the use of relative power alone for predicting major power behavior. How much do the results change if we examine global contenders only? In terms of the direction of correlation, the patterns are largely similar to those obtained for other major powers. Both the probability of war and Defender’s acquiescence increase as the power shifts from the Defender’s advantage to parity, and further toward the Challenger’s advantage. For example, using the COW National Capability index as an indicator, the probability of Defender’s acquiescence increases from 2.05 percent to 36.10 percent as the power shifts from the Defender’s to Challenger’s superiority (see table 4.5). The trend is similar if we use the other two indicators, that is, only the military components of the COW index or, alternatively, the gross domestic product. The magnitude of change for Defender’s acquiescence and war as deterrence outcomes, however, is much smaller than the magnitude affecting the probability of Challenger’s acquiescence. As was also the case for other major powers, the probability of the Challenger’s acqui-

TABLE 4.5. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes for Global Contenders Power Distribution COW Defender’s Power Superiority Power Parity Challenger’s Power Superiority

AcqDef p ∆

AcqCh p ∆

Compromise p ∆

War

2.05 15.09 +13.0 36.10 +21.0

70.31 47.14 –23.2 10.26 –36.9

27.17 29.89 +2.7 10.67 –19.2

0.47 7.89 +7.4 42.97 +35.1

p

∆

Military Capabilities (COW) Defender’s Military Superiority 9.09 Military Parity 16.74 Challenger’s Military Superiority 22.10

+7.6 +5.4

74.51 48.80 –25.7 22.91 –25.9

12.98 23.91 +10.9 31.58 +7.7

3.41 10.55 +7.1 23.41 +12.9

GDP Defender’s Superiority Economic Parity Challenger’s Superiority

+8.9 +8.9

55.06 35.47 –19.6 19.18 –16.3

15.55 25.32 +9.8 34.60 +9.3

16.12 17.03 +0.9 15.10 –1.9

13.27 22.18 31.12

Note: Power superiority is calculated as a two-to-one ratio of forces. Predicted probabilities of deterrence outcomes (p) are calculated according to equations 1 and 2 (see appendix D). The sum of predicted probabilities for all four deterrence outcomes should yield a total of 100 percent. The marginal change (∆) presents a percentage change in the predicted probabilities from the value above in the Table. For example, using COW measure, changing power distribution from the Defender’s superiority to power parity increases the probability that the Defender will acquiesce by 13.0 percentage points.


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escence increases if the power shifts in the Defender’s favor. These patterns for global contenders remain unaltered and follow the same intuitive logic found for the rest of the powers. More important, the ‹ndings show that war does not necessarily become more likely if the global contenders become equal in their capabilities. On the other hand, the correlation between compromise and relative power slightly changes, becoming curvilinear for the COW overall measure. Overall, in light of these results, it is dif‹cult to provide any de‹nite answer to the question of whether power parity or disparity creates unstable conditions, leading to deterrence failure. Relative power is a strong predictor of behavior, but only for less complicated situations. For example, when the Defender has the power advantage, the Challenger’s acquiescence is not a surprising outcome. For more precarious situations, however, the search for additional factors is warranted. After all, as Bueno de Mesquita (1989) noted, the key difference between the balance-of-power and power shift schools lies in their opposing implied assumptions about the ways that individuals respond to uncertainty. According to many balance-of-power theorists, for instance, the incentive to wage war is diminished by the belief that the chances for success are only ‹fty-‹fty. This is similar to the statement that decisionmakers facing the choice of waging war act as if they are generally risk averse. Conversely, many preponderance theorists seem to subscribe to the belief that war is most likely when opposed forces are roughly equal, implying that decisionmakers generally act as if they are somewhat risk acceptant. (154) In other words, both theories assume “uniform responses to uncertainty or to risks” (Bueno de Mesquita 1989, 154), which is very restrictive. Thus, any power-based argument can only be partial, as it assumes away the variation in people’s propensities toward risk, their different degrees of willingness to bear the costs of action, and any other aspect of variation in individual responses to risk. As argued in the introduction, an actor’s willingness to carry out a threat is an essential requirement for deterrence provided it also has suf‹cient capabilities to carry out such a threat. The next three chapters will examine the degree to which the inclusion of the factor of willingness can correct for the presented inconclusive empirical ‹ndings regarding the impact of relative capabilities on deterrence outcomes.

C HAPTER 5

Credibility and Geopolitics: Regional Interests at Stake

A theoretical analysis of deterrence is primarily concerned with relative power and threat credibility as necessary conditions for deterrence stability, or, alternatively, their lack thereof, as sources of deterrence failure. The introductory theoretical framework clari‹ed the importance of a state’s interests, that is, “inherent credibility,” for the stability of deterrence. As an extensive survey in the previous chapter clearly showed, the literature focused primarily on the issues of relative power. In the context of deterrence, this means that credible threats were largely analyzed in terms of a state having the capacity to carry out a threat effectively. The focus on relative capabilities overshadowed the basic issue of a genuinely credible reason to want to use power in the ‹rst place. The main argument in this book is that the willingness to carry out a threat is a function of the stakes that a major power might have in a crisis. In direct deterrence, when a major power’s territory is directly threatened, the issues at stake are at their highest. In extended deterrence, its willingness to get involved in a con›ict depends on the strength of its interest in the third party (Protégé) threatened by another power. Previous deterrence research (e.g., Huth 1988; Huth and Russett 1984, 1990) examined the stakes in extended deterrence in terms of the ties between a major power and its Protégé. The notion of inherent credibility of extended threats can be reinterpreted, however, to re›ect the importance of the ties between a major power and the entire region where a Protégé is located. It can be argued, therefore, that a crisis is not likely to escalate unless it involves strong and con›icting interests of major powers in the region of con›ict. In other words, unless there is a crisis of strong geostrategic salience for both competing powers, the situation between them of power disparity or transition would not lead to major ‹ghting as respectively suggested by balance-of-power and power shift schools. While geopolitical salience is an old idea, as it steadily evolved under different names, past treatments were mostly impressionistic, 98

Credibility and Geopolitics

99

and there was no attempt to develop a rigorous theoretical framework for examining it, though the “new geopolitics” should provide a disciplinary context. The idea of “spheres of interest” is also closely related to the argument tying regional stakes of major powers to the inherent credibility of their threats in extended deterrence. A few recent studies developed the related notion of “shatterbelts,” which should also be mentioned in this context. Although less rigorous in their treatment of these ideas, some prominent writings need to be brie›y reviewed. After reviewing the evolution of those geopolitical writings that are related to the idea of major powers’ regional stakes in their con›icts, the chapter will empirically examine the argument developed here, which links geopolitics to the analysis of credibility of deterrent threats.

Geopolitical Views Old Geopolitics

The German geographer Friedrich Ratzel, often regarded as the founder of modern political geography at the turn of the twentieth century, is best known for his thesis that the behavior of states is shaped by geographic attributes of location (Lage) and space (Raum). His deterministic view in›uenced the Geopolitik school in interwar Germany, casting a shadow on the legitimacy of his thought. But Ratzel also established the tradition, later followed by a number of geopolitical writers, of searching for a geographic area with critical strategic importance for the politics of world powers. Unlike other writers of his time, Ratzel did not see Europe as having a major role in world geostrategy and instead argued that “history would be dominated by larger states occupying continental areas, like North America, Asiatic Russia, Australia, and South America” (cited in Cohen 1973, 40). Admiral Alfred T. Mahan, the next major ‹gure in the development of the old geopolitics,1 continued the search for a strategic regional “epicenter” of world politics. In his seminal book, The In›uence of Sea Power upon History (1890), he argued that the power controlling the sea was in the best position to control the world. To achieve full control over the seas, a power needed to have both preponderant naval capabilities and control over the landmass with the best strategic position for an effective use of naval capabilities. In Mahan’s view, this critical landmass was located within the Eurasian hinterland, which was the zone of con›ict between British sea power and Russian

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land power at the time. Mahan’s writings, although in a somewhat simpli‹ed interpretation, have in›uenced the contemporary idea that seapower leadership is the key to world power (e.g., Thompson 1988). The idea that a preponderant sea power is the best candidate for the leading world power, so often attributed to Mahan, also had a tremendous impact on many statesmen at the turn of the twentieth century. As an illustration, Germany’s fateful decision to shift away from Bismarckian policies and embark upon the rapid naval program in the 1890s was crowned by the Kaiser’s famous proclamation “Our future lies on the water” (cited in Gooch 1923, 231). But, as Cohen (1973) pointed out, what Mahan had in mind was in fact a sea-transported power, the key to which was control over the Eurasian land. In this sense, Mahan’s ideas can be recognized in the geopolitical writings of Halford Mackinder, who also attributed the major role to Eurasia (“Heartland”) as the critical geostrategic source for world domination. He summarized his thesis in this often-quoted statement: “Who rules East Europe commands the Heartland: Who rules the Heartland commands the World-Island: Who rules the World-Island commands the World” (Mackinder 1919, 150). Mackinder’s thoughts ostensibly indicate a deterministic view of the relation between geography and world politics, which was quite common in early geopolitical thought. The last major writer of the old geopolitics was Nicholas Spykman (1944), who argued that the so-called Rimland was the key to world control. The Rimland was speci‹cally located in Eurasia’s shorelands and corresponded to Mackinder’s “Marginal Crescent” (“Maritime” Europe, Middle East, Southeast Asia, India, and China). Spykman was an American political geographer, and his intent was to ‹nd a U.S. geostrategic response to the rise of German hegemony. Hence, his Rimland doctrine advocated an alliance between Anglo-American sea power and Russian land power as an effective counterbalance to the German threat. Spykman’s work was the last offspring of the old geopolitical thinking and did not ‹nd a home among contemporary writings. With the end of World War II, the era of old geopolitics was closed, and the role of geography was removed from the study of international relations for some time. New Geopolitics

Several factors contributed to the decline in the postwar interest in geopolitics. First, the advent of nuclear technology and technological


101

changes in transportation and communication made the constraints of geographic space and distance less relevant for the conduct of world politics. In this respect, the global reach of world powers could bypass the limitations of distance and could be achieved through the mere possession of technological advantages. Second, traditional historical analysis of the regional interests of major powers was centered around the notion of “spheres of in›uence” or “spheres of interest.” These notions were even subject to international legal regulation at the turn of the century, but their obvious incompatibility with the principle of equal sovereignty led to their removal from international legal codes. Moreover, since the sphere-ofin›uence politics was often unjust toward smaller nations located within the spheres, major powers of the postwar period have not of‹cially endorsed the pursuit of this policy. Hence, analysts of superpower behavior rarely concentrate on the effects of regions upon the superpower global competition or vice versa. Third, the neglect of regional aspects of major power rivalry is also a product of the strategic thinking of the Cold War era. Since the policy of containment was pursued as a globalist strategy, deterrence theorists did not discriminate among world regions when analyzing the relations between superpowers. The exceptions were rare: George Kennan, Walter Lippman, and Henry A. Wallace, to name a few notables, were early critics of the U.S. globalist position that did not differentiate among geopolitical regions in terms of their relevance to U.S. vital national interests.2 Nevertheless, the globalist approach strongly dominated both the containment policy and strategic scholarship of the Cold War era. Despite the neglect of geopolitics, an emerging number of new scholars began to adopt a geopolitical approach to international relations, while completely abandoning the old deterministic views. As O’Loughlin and Anselin (1992, 14) point out, “The central distinguishing difference between the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ geopolitics is that the ‘old geopolitics’ had geography as a determining variable while the central belief of the ‘new geopolitics’ . . . is that geography is only one of many possible conditioning factors in international relations.” Most prominently, Sprout and Sprout (1957, 1965) played a key role in shaping a new geopolitical school of world politics. They introduced the concept of an ecological triad composed of an entity, its environment (“milieu”), and the entity-environment relationship. Depending on how the relationship between the three components was interpreted, the Sprouts distinguished among several “relationship the-

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ories.” In environmental determinism, environmental attributes determine man’s behavior, as it was presented in the old geopolitical thought. In the doctrine of environmental possibilism, typical for the new geopolitics, “the milieu is conceived as a set of opportunities and limitations” and the initiative lies with man (Sprout and Sprout 1965, 83). The environment makes certain actions possible, but it is a person or the state as an entity that makes choices about them. Once the environment sets limits of what is possible, it also may have an impact on what choices would be more or less probable, which is the subject of environmental probabilism. Finally, there is cognitive behaviorism. While not a speci‹c theory of man-milieu relationship, it postulates “the simple and familiar principle that a person reacts to his milieu as he apperceives it” (Sprout and Sprout 1957, 314). Most, Starr, and Siverson (Most and Starr 1989; Siverson and Starr 1991) demonstrated that the majority of these models could be integrated into a single framework such as their model of “opportunity and willingness.” According to this model, “both opportunity (possibilism) and willingness (probabilism and cognitive behaviorism) are necessary for understanding behavior” (Starr 1991, 4). An increasing number of studies focusing on geography and international con›ict subsequently ›ourished in the 1980s and 1990s. It is common for this new wave of studies to look primarily at the impact of geographic proximity and shared borders on the frequency of warfare or the spread of con›ict (for reviews, see Most, Starr, and Siverson 1989; Diehl 1991). The analysis of geographic distance as a constraining factor for con›ict was ‹rst initiated by Boulding and his notion of a “lossof-strength gradient,” referring to “the degree to which military and political power diminishes as we move a unit distance away from its home base” (1962, 245) The effect of geographic distance was not, however, con‹rmed for major powers (Bueno de Mesquita 1981). Another area of research examines territory as a source of con›ict rather than as a facilitating or constraining condition for it.3 Here, also, border disputes ‹gure prominently, and the focus is on their origin, outcome, or recurring patterns in the form of “enduring rivalries.” There is one research strand, however, that goes beyond border disputes while still examining territory as a source of dispute. It is centered on the idea of “shatterbelts” or regions characterized by fragmentation and instability, thus representing arenas for major power competition. Although it is believed to be a relatively new concept (Diehl 1991, 21), it has a long history in the traditional writings (not to be confused with the old geopolitics) about gray areas or spheres of con›icting interests in major power rivalry.


103

Geostrategic Salience and Regional Issues at Stake

To date, regional aspects of major power rivalry have not been subjected to a rigorous theoretical and empirical analysis. Although there is almost no theoretical framework available for their examination, these issues are related to the idea of spheres of in›uence in earlier writings or to its modern version of shatterbelts. Related Geopolitical Terms

Spheres of Interest. One of the earliest records of agreement on spheres of interest dates back to 509 B.C. when Rome and Carthage agreed not to interfere in each other’s areas (Keal 1983, 38). The term spheres of in›uence was possibly not used before the 1880s, when major powers signed a series of treaties delineating the boundaries of their colonial empires. The reluctance to directly admit such a policy led to the adoption of the term sphere of interest, as Lord Balfour stressed in his speech to the House of Commons in 1898: “Spheres of in›uence we have never admitted, spheres of interest we have never denied.” The distinction can indeed be viewed as “hair-splitting,” as Hudson (1939, 105) observed.4 Naturally, the sphere-of-interest policy directly con›icts with the doctrine of sovereignty. Despite its questionable legitimacy, let alone legality, most historians argue that such a policy was traditionally pursued by major powers (see, e.g., Taylor 1954). However, the globalism of the Cold War containment strategy questioned its acceptability. Still, it should be noted that even in the early formative years of U.S. containment policy, a few intellectuals and policymakers were not persuaded that so-called indiscriminate globalism, i.e., a containment strategy that did not discriminate among the regions according to their national security relevance for U.S. interests, was a prudent policy.5 In his essay on the origins of the Cold War, Arthur Schlesinger Jr. distinguished between “universalist” and “sphere-of-in›uence” views: One theme indispensable to an understanding of the Cold War is the contrast between two clashing views of world order: the ‘universalist’ view, by which all nations shared a common interest in all the affairs of the world, and the ‘sphere-of-in›uence’ view, by which each great power would be assured by the other great powers of an acknowledged predominance in its own area of special interest. The universalist view assumed that national security would be guaranteed by an international organization. The

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sphere-of-interest view assumed that national security would be guaranteed by the balance of power. While in practice these views have by no means been incompatible (indeed, our shaky peace has been based on a combination of the two), in the abstract they involved sharp contradictions. (1967, 26; emphasis added) Although Schlesinger’s remarks were con‹ned to the Cold War period, they are clearly generalizable for other epochs as well. At least, the sphere-of-interest view can be generalized for the conduct of major powers in their long history of mutual rivalry. Schlesinger was one of the rare writers to use the term spheres of in›uence in the Cold War context. But the cited passage is also important in a larger theoretical sense: the term was tightly related to the concept of balance of power. As discussed in chapter 4, traditional writers tended to use the notion of balance of power with multiple meanings. Even Morgenthau (1948) argued that the delimitation of spheres of in›uence between major powers has been one of the mechanisms for balancing their power, which replaced an earlier direct exchange of territorial and colonial possessions. Indeed, he wrote that the “historically most important manifestation of the balance of power” was “to be found not in the equilibrium of two isolated nations but in the relations between one nation or alliance of nations and another alliance” (169). Precisely because he emphasized alliances as the most important mechanism in the balancing process, later scholars tended to disregard other balancing mechanisms such as “the delimitation of colonial and semicolonial spheres of in›uence [which] is organically connected with the balanceof-power system” (168). Among political scientists, like Morgenthau, Robert Gilpin also stressed the importance of regional in›uences of major powers, though he did not subscribe to the balance-of-power approach but instead to the power shift argument. It does not seem he intended to develop a coherent theoretical argument about spheres-of-in›uence politics, yet one can discern several ways in which this notion was treated in his work. First, he argues that there are three state objectives: territorial conquest, control over the world economy, and in›uence over the behavior of other states “through the use of threats and coercion, the formation of alliances, and the creation of exclusive spheres of in›uence.” Gilpin argues further that control over the international system is a function of three factors: distribution of power, hierarchy of prestige, and a set of rights and rules governing interactions among states. The last factor includes “simple understandings regarding


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spheres of in›uence.” Finally, in his discussion of the conditions that precipitate hegemonic wars, he attributes a critical role to a rising challenger: “As its relative power increases, a rising state attempts to change the rules governing the international system, the division of the spheres of in›uence, and, most important of all, the international distribution of territory” (1981, 24, 34, 187). Gilpin thus attributes several meanings and functions to the spheres of in›uence, that is, as an objective, an element of the rules, and an aspect of challenger’s dissatisfaction. Undoubtedly, Gilpin’s work is relevant in his acknowledgment that the politics of the spheres of in›uence plays an important part in major power behavior. An exact causal relationship between this kind of politics and international con›ict was, however, left unspeci‹ed. Rigorous empirical research on spheres of interest is also virtually nonexistent.6 The issue of causality was, to some extent, attempted in the literature on shatterbelts. Shatterbelts. This is a new term for a relatively old notion concerning major power disagreements, tacit or open, over their in›uence in particular regions. Cohen coined the term shatterbelt and de‹ned it as “a large, strategically located region that is occupied by a number of con›icting states and is caught between the con›icting interests of adjoining Great Powers” (1973, 85). The terms spheres of in›uence and spheres of interest are evidently substituted with the term impact areas. Cohen is also more inclined to use the term nodes instead of major powers or superpowers. These terminological substitutions may veil the essence of his study, which is centered on the geostrategic behavior of major powers and not far removed from the spheres-of-interest approach. We may look at this world as one world, divided and polycentric— a world in which certain nodes (points or places) exercise or share primary power or in›uence over broader impact areas, shaping these areas, ultimately, into unique kinds of landscapes. . . . The major tensions of international relations occur when these nodes or places clash with one another as they interact in areas that are common ground. (1973, 25) Cohen’s picture of the postwar “world landscape” rests on the division between two geostrategic realms: the “Trade-Dependent Maritime World” and the “Eurasian Continental” world. Each is dominated by one node (i.e., superpower): the United States and the Soviet Union, respectively. Each geostrategic region is then subdivided into a

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number of geopolitical regions. According to Cohen, the Middle East and Southeast Asia constitute shatterbelts, because their political and economic fate is of vital concern to both superpowers (1973, 87). In his later works, Cohen made several revisions: he argued that the geostrategic realms became less cohesive, while geopolitical regions arose as more relevant; sub-Saharan Africa also became a shatterbelt region, but by the 1990s it lost this status, together with Southeast Asia, leaving only the Middle East as a region of fragmentation and contention. His de‹nition of shatterbelts also underwent some changes, highlighting them as an area of major power contention. Although generally considered to be politically fragmented, the “distinguishing feature of the Shatterbelt, however, is that it presents an equal playing ‹eld to two or more competing powers operating from different geostrategic realms” (1991, 567). The idea of shatterbelts apparently developed from Fairgrieve’s earlier notion of the “crush zone” of small states which “remain in the unsatisfactory position of buffer states, precariously dependent politically, and more surely dependent economically” (1915, 329). Fairgrieve argued that this zone, “crushed” between major powers, consisted of the small European states, the Balkans, Iran, Afghanistan, Siam, and Korea. Later, Hartshorne (1944) developed a similar idea of a European “shatter zone,” in which both world wars broke out. Hoffman (1952) also ascribed vital importance to the East European “Shatter-Belt” in the East-West competition. As Hensel and Diehl (1994, 35) correctly observe, these earlier writings “tended to describe a single region or belts of states, most often East-Central Europe, and did not attempt to draw any cross-regional comparisons or generalize beyond this one area.” It was Cohen who built upon these previous notions to develop his idea of “shatterbelts” and extend their empirical domain. On the other hand, he did not develop a theoretical framework for explanatory purposes; it was still a rather impressionistic and descriptive study of the role of shatterbelts in world politics. A few recent studies attempted to re‹ne the research in this area. Their improvement was limited primarily to conceptual matters that produced some revisions in the empirical delineation of shatterbelts (Kelly 1986; Van der Wusten and Nierop 1990; Hensel and Diehl 1994). In terms of the instability of shatterbelts, Van der Wusten and Nierop (1990) found that outside interventions were indeed more frequent in shatterbelts than in other regions. One of Hensel and Diehl’s (1994) ‹ndings was that the frequency of major power intervention was greater in shatterbelts than in other regions for interstate wars and dis-


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putes. However, the reverse trend was found for extrasystemic wars and civil wars. Both studies focused only on areas of con›icts, thus excluding other, relatively peaceful, regions as a control variable. Once again, the causal model was not a part of the research agenda, which leaves the research on shatterbelts mostly void of a rigorous explanatory theory. Foreign Policy Portfolios Similarity. Bueno de Mesquita (1981) pioneered the idea that foreign policy portfolios of states can signi‹cantly affect the degree of similarity or divergence of their security interests. Particularly, it was proposed that the similarity of states’ alliance portfolios was a useful indicator of their security interests, using Kendall’s τb as the operational measure for the similarity of portfolios (Altfeld and Bueno de Mesquita 1979; Bueno de Mesquita 1981). A number of studies subsequently used the τb measure of alliance portfolio similarity between two or more states to estimate their willingness to get involved in con›ict against each other (e.g., Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1988, 1992; Kim 1991; Kim and Morrow 1992). Signorino and Ritter (1999) recently criticized the appropriateness of Kendall’s τb for measuring policy portfolio similarity, suggesting instead an alternative measure S that is more consistent with spatial models of international politics. Their further argument was to expand alliance portfolios with additional indicators of revealed policy preferences, speci‹cally supplementing it with the UN voting patterns as an illustration. In fact, Bueno de Mesquita (1981) also originally suggested the use of multiple indicators to measure the similarity of states’ policy positions. His eventual choice of a single measure was simply necessitated by the theoretical assumption that alliances were the most relevant aspect of security policy as opposed to, for example, involvement in international organizations. Notwithstanding these differences on the issue of appropriate measures and indicators, both Bueno de Mesquita (1981) and Signorino and Ritter (1999) are concerned with the impact of foreign policy similarities on states’ behavior in disputes. The notions of foreign policy portfolio similarity and regional salience ties, central to this study, may be prima facie interpreted as complementary, with two signi‹cant differences. First, tight linkages between a major power and most states in a region may, but do not necessarily have to, indicate the similarity of their foreign policy positions. The Cold War case of U.S. ties with the Western Europe and the Soviet presence in the Eastern Europe can easily be interpreted as an example of convergence between these two notions. Similar foreign policy positions between each super-

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power and the respective regions (i.e., United States and West Europe; USSR and East Europe) were obviously correlated with the strength of their ties, which, in turn, shaped the variant level of salience of each region for the two superpowers. The same cannot be said for many other historical and contemporary cases. British and French strong presence and stakes in the Middle East until the late 1950s can hardly be assumed to re›ect their similar foreign policies with such regional protégés as Egypt, Lebanon, and Syria. To use another example, the Austro-Hungarian policy positions would be dif‹cult to identify with those of most Balkan states, and yet its ties and stakes in the Balkans were quite strong. The second difference is even more pronounced at the level of relations between major powers. In this respect, theoretical expectations about the similarity of their foreign policy interests could turn out to be opposite. Regardless of the measure of policy similarity (τb or S), a general expectation is that states are likely to have common security interests if they have similar partners for allies, foreign trade transactions, and so on (Bueno de Mesquita 1981; Signorino and Ritter 1999). One can argue, however, that the logic might be somewhat reversed at the regional level. It is quite possible that con›icting, rather than common, security interests between two states can result if both achieve or aspire to have similar strong levels of alliance, trade, and other bonds with various states within the same region. As argued in this study, it is precisely the similarity of their foreign policy stakes in the same region, manifested through different forms of linkages with local states, that might trigger a severe clash between them over in›uence in the region. Other Related Terms. The notion of regional salience, as advanced in this study, is further similar to what Goertz and Diehl (1992) call “relational importance” of the territory. It is different from its “intrinsic importance,” which re›ects some permanent or semipermanent attribute of the territory, such as the physical size of the area, its natural resources, or its population. On the other hand, “the relational importance of a territory is made up of characteristics that have different degrees of signi‹cance for different states” (Goertz and Diehl 1992, 14). States may attach relational importance to the area on less tangible grounds (cultural, ethnic, historical ties), but they can also attach different degrees of importance to the area on a more tangible basis (economic and military ties, alliances, geographic proximity, etc.). On the other hand, the “multiple hierarchy” model developed by Lemke (1996) is not entirely comparable to the idea of “regional


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salience” as advanced here. In his model, Lemke examines the power standings of minor powers in their local “relevant neighborhoods,” testing if the power transition argument (see chap. 4) is generalizable from global to the regional domains. Therefore, the focus is mainly on the power distribution between local minor powers whereas “the question of great power interference [in local areas] has only been tangentially addressed and thus remains as an important area for continued research” (Kugler and Lemke 2000, 141). It is precisely this underexplored question of major power in›uence in various regional areas, either distant or close, that is the focus of my analysis. Regional Salience

Previous empirical research on deterrence looked exclusively at the Defender’s ties with a particular nation (Protégé) to measure the issues at stake in extended deterrence. However, the ties that the Defender and the Challenger have with an entire region where the third state is located might be a better choice to capture the idea of inherent credibility (or, alternatively, intrinsic interests). Namely, a particular state may be less signi‹cant for a major power, but it may be located in a region of greater national interest for that power. For this reason, regional stakes are viewed here in terms of a major power’s interests in an entire region rather than vis-à-vis a single state, which brings it closer to the idea of spheres of interest. Speci‹cally, a major power’s stake in an entire region of con›ict could be considered a main source of the inherent credibility of its extended threat. Regional stakes or, in other words, regional salience can, in turn, be interpreted as a re›ection of the tightness of relations between a major power and most states in the region. These relations can take many forms, usually manifested through alliances, colonies of the past, or high volumes of mutual trade, arms transfers, and other military, diplomatic, and economic transactions.7 It is apparent that the notion of regional salience incorporates the idea of spheres of interest, and at best only indirectly those of shatterbelts and foreign policy portfolios similarity. As previously suggested, however, the causal linkage between spheres of interest and major power con›icts was never rigorously established. The purpose of this analysis is precisely to establish such a linkage and test it empirically. Furthermore, the regional salience variable refers to the less manipulable interests or stakes that forge a major power’s willingness to carry

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out its threat. As such, it is close to the concept of inherent credibility advanced by the third-wave deterrence theorists (i.e., George and Smoke 1974; Snyder and Diesing 1977; Jervis 1979). In this sense, it also expands, both conceptually and theoretically, the notion of the “issues at stake,” empirically explored in quantitative research on deterrence (Huth 1988; Huth and Russett 1984). The general assumption is that the more salient the area is for a major power, the more likely it is to become involved in a crisis arising in the area. In the context of extended deterrence, it follows that the more salient the area is for a major power, the more likely it is that the power will be willing to defend a third party against another major power. The willingness of the state to carry out its threats when challenged, which is at the core of threat credibility issues, can thus be tied to the regional salience of a crisis for that state. Moreover, the logic of the argument can be extended to claim that if an area is highly signi‹cant for more than one major power (i.e., an area of con›icting interests or a gray area), there would be a higher probability of a more serious con›ict between major powers. Once again, this argument is not at odds with the intuitive claims advanced by a number of diplomatic historians and traditional scholars, who often refer to the spheres of in›uence raison d’être when interpreting the major powers’ clashes over seemingly localized disputes. It is also consistent with the current literature that criticizes interventions based on reputational reasons and instead emphasizes the need for a grand strategy of “selective engagement” as a guiding principle for post–Cold War policy (for further details, see chap. 8). Note that regional stakes can also help us identify an observable aspect of inherent resolve in extended deterrence.

The Impact of Regional Salience on Deterrence

To examine the validity of the argument that ties the geopolitical notion of regional salience to the credibility of extended threats, empirical measures need ‹rst to be developed. As the past research was limited in this respect, this chapter will introduce a number of new measures. The operationalization of regional salience (i.e., a major power’s stakes in world regions) requires two operational speci‹cations: the regions need to be delineated, and a measure of regional stakes must be developed.


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Geopolitical Regions

There are many dif‹culties in delineating regional boundaries if regions are understood in a geopolitical sense and not simply in geographic terms. Any attempt at such delineation needs to be consistent with the differentiation of the regions by both geographers and historians. The operational issues are related to their size, composition, variation over time, etc. If they are de‹ned as geopolitical regions, then some of them inevitably change over time by merging with or separating from other geopolitical regions. This is especially true for the long time-span under observation. The notions of Near East and Middle East are cases in point for the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. While the Maghreb states have been incorporated into a large cluster of the Middle East since World War II, the geopolitical dynamic of their international position was distinct from the Arabian Peninsula for the previous periods, largely because of the vested French, Italian, and Spanish presence there. In a similar way, some states in Southwest Asia (e.g., Iran or Iraq) were less related to, say, Egypt or Sudan as Middle Eastern states in the period before World War II. Rather, their geopolitical dynamics re›ected their middle position between the Ottoman Empire and India. Hence, British and Russian interests occasionally clashed in this area, while the Arabian Peninsula was more in dispute between the British and the Ottomans. This is precisely the reason why many historical surveys distinguish between the Near East (Southwest Asia) and the Middle East (Arabian Peninsula, Egypt, and Sudan). This distinction is less viable for the post–World War II period, as some Southwest Asian states began to resemble other Middle Eastern countries in their geopolitical position, outlook, and politics, thus merging with them in a larger regional cluster. Even if a region itself does not change, some states are proximate to at least two subcontinental areas and may be subsumed within different regions in different time periods, which often depends on their political positioning. The case of Austria is illustrative. Under the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Austria covered large areas of Central and Eastern Europe; after its collapse in 1919, Austrian politics shifted westward, while Hungary remained, both geographically and politically, a part of Eastern Europe. Greece was also a traditional actor in the Balkan and East European politics, but after World War II it moved toward the Western European geopolitical cluster with its

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strong military, political, and economic ties to West Europe, despite its marginal geographic distance. Nevertheless, most other geopolitical regions remained constant throughout the twentieth century in terms of both size and composition. Table 5.1 classi‹es countries into distinct geopolitical groupings using their contemporary names.8 It indicates 16 regions for the 1895–1914 period, 15 regions for 1920–39, and 14 for 1945–85. The difference in number results from the shifting nature of the area that is currently encompassed by the notion of Middle East. The size of the regions also matters. If they are identi‹ed with the size of entire continents, there is the danger of missing subcontinental aspects of major power rivalries. Asia, for instance, has always been an area of vested interests for many powers. However, their interest was not uniform throughout the Asian continent: as an illustration, the traditional Anglo-Russian rivalry was often acute in South or East Asia, but almost completely absent in Southeast Asia. The distinction between Eastern and Western Europe is, after all, essential for testing the argument of those who believe that the spheres-of-interests view was a modus operandi of both superpowers during the Cold War despite their of‹cial policies of globalist commitments. Most studies of shatterbelts also delineate them as subcontinental areas (Cohen 1973, 1991; Kelly 1986).9 Measuring Regional Salience

The salience of geopolitical regions remains to be operationalized for each major power to capture the notion of inherent credibility (i.e., intrinsic interests) in deterrence situations. It should be measured by looking into the tightness of political, military, and economic linkages between a major power and a region.10 The measure is very similar to Huth and Russett’s (1984) operationalization of individual ties between the Defender and its Protégé in extended-immediate deterrence. The ties may be forged through colonial possessions, alliances, diplomatic exchange, arms sales, foreign trade, investments, and so on.11 Some principal modes of linkages among states change and ultimately erode over time, while others emerge and strengthen in importance. During the last hundred years, for instance, colonial ties reached both their peak and rapid collapse. Similarly, through the middle of this century, diplomatic exchanges of permanent missions stood as a symbol of the reputational status granted to different states, but their post–World War II explosion in numbers eroded their previous

TABLE 5.1. Geopolitical Regions: Classification and Composition West Africa: Benin, Burkina Faso, Cape Verde, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Ivory Coast, Liberia, Mali, Mauretania, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Togo Central Africa: Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad, Congo, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, Sao Tome and Principe, Zaire East Africa: Burundi, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Kenya, Madagascar, Rwanda, Somalia, Tanzania Southern Africa: Angola, Botswana, Lesotho, Malawi, Mozambique, Namibia, Swaziland, Zambia, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Uganda South Asia: Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Maldive Islands, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, (Tibet), USSR: Kazakhstan, USSR: Kirghizia, USSR: Tadzhikistan Southeast Asia: Brunei, Burma, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnama East Asia: China, Japan, North Korea, South Korea, (Manchuria), Mongolia, Taiwan Oceania: American Samoa, Australia, Fiji, Guam, Marianne, Caroline, and Marshall Islands, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, Western Samoa North Asia: USSR: Northern Republics of Russia North America: Canada, U.S. Central America and the Caribbean: Antigua and Barbuda, Bahamas, Barbados, Belise, Bermuda, British West Indies, Costa Rica, Cuba, Dominica, Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Grenada, Guadeloupe, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Jamaica, Martinique, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Puerto Rico, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, St. Kitts and Nevis, Trinidad-Tobago, Virgin Islands South America: Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Ecuador, Guyana, Paraguay, Peru, Suriname, Uruguay, Venezuela Western Europe: Austriab, Belgium, Denmark, France, (West) Germanyc, Greece (after 1945), Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, Malta, Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, United Kingdom Eastern Europe: Albania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, East Germany, (Estonia), Finland, Greece (1895–1939), Hungary, (Latvia), (Lithuania), Poland, Rumania, USSR: Byelorussia, USSR: Moldova, USSR: Russia, USSR: Ukraine, Yugoslavia Maghreb (1895–1939): Algeria, Libya, Morocco, Tunisia Middle East (since 1945): Algeria, Bahrain, Cyprus, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Libya, Morocco, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Syria, Tunisia, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, USSR: Armenia, USSR: Azerbaijan, USSR: Georgia, USSR: Uzbekistan, USSR: Turkmenistan, North Yemen, (south) Yemen Middle East (1895–1939):d Bahrain, Cyprus, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Syria, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Yemen aAs

North Vietnam and South Vietnam during the period 1954–75. Austria-Hungary during 1895–1914, it was classified in Eastern Europe. cWest Berlin is included. dThe Maghreb states are included in the Middle Eastern region since 1945. bAs

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signi‹cance. On the other hand, ties established through less formal channels (such as arms sales, foreign trade, and investment) have become more salient since the middle of this century, if not earlier. Typically, the forging of alliances was and continues to be a principal means for major powers to secure a foothold in various corners of the world. Hence, any measure of the stakes that major powers have in world regions needs to be adapted to the variable nature of the linkages they form with other states. For these reasons, one needs to use partially different indicators of regional salience for a long period such as that extending from 1895 to 1985. Moreover, as no single type of linkage predominates, this measure must be composite. While alliances are included throughout the entire time span (1895–1985), colonial possessions and diplomatic exchanges are added to the alliance bonds only for the period from 1895 to 1939. They are replaced by the level of foreign trade for the period from 1945 to 1985. Foreign trade is also included for the 1920–41 period. In short, the measure of regional salience is composed of alliances, colonial possessions, and diplomatic exchange for the period 1895–1939. Then foreign trade is added for the interwar period (1920–41), whereas the regional salience variable for the period 1945–85 is composed of alliances and foreign trade. Since the composite score of regional salience is an additive index, it is constructed as a sum of the components and then averaged out by dividing the sum by the number of included components. As for the individual components speci‹cally, alliance bonds were measured in terms of the regional distribution of alliances in a major power’s alliance portfolio. The data on the number and types of alliances between major powers and other states were collected from the original data set by Small and Singer (1969), updated by Oren (1990). The measurement proceeded in several stages. First, if there was an alliance between the major power and other states, the variable was coded one; all other dyadic relations between that major power and other states without alliance ties were coded zero. Then, the number of alliances between the major power and every state in the region were added into the regional sum (e.g., call this ‹gure Xi for a region i, Xo for a region o, etc., to calculate the alliance portfolio of a major power X). Finally, the obtained regional sums were calculated as a percentage share of all the alliances concluded between that major power and all other states in the world. The sum of the percentage shares of all regions in a major power’s alliance portfolio should then yield 100 percent (i.e., Xi + Xo + . . . = 100 percent). Diplomatic exchanges were


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measured in a similar way. The number of diplomatic missions received by a major power from all independent states in a particular region was ‹rst computed into the regional sum, which was then converted into the percentage share of all diplomatic missions received by that major power. The data on the number and ranks of permanent diplomatic missions are provided by the University of Michigan data set of the Correlates of War (COW) project conducted by Singer and Small. As was done for alliances, the diplomatic mission variable was ‹rst coded as a binary variable, with the value of one if there was a diplomatic exchange between a major power and another state; otherwise, it was coded zero. Since there is no comprehensive data set available for colonial possessions and foreign trade, an original data set had to be created. Detailed information on the sources consulted for creating the new data set for major powers’ colonies and their individual trade with all independent states is presented in appendix C. The appendix also presents the tables of regional distributions of colonies and foreign trade for all major powers for sample years, as this information is not available elsewhere. For colonial possessions, the square miles of colonial territory controlled by a major power were accrued for each region, then converted into a percentage share of the total colonial holdings of that major power. The New Encyclopædia Britannica (1998) and Townsend (1941) were the primary sources of information for the square mileage of colonial areas, supplemented by a number of additional sources as described in appendix C. The regional score of a major power’s foreign trade was constructed in the same way as the other three components of the regional salience variable. That is, the amount of trade between a major power and a particular region was expressed in terms of its percentage of the total trade between that major power and the rest of the world. The calculation of regional shares of a major power’s foreign trade and diplomatic exchange followed an additive logic similar to that used for alliances and diplomatic exchanges. The main sources for the amount of foreign trade between major powers and each independent state were the annual statistical reports on world trade issued by the League of Nations, the United Nations, and the International Monetary Fund. More details are provided in appendix C. Since the composite score for regional salience is an additive index, it is constructed as a sum of the components, then averaged out by dividing the sum by the number of included components. For example, the salience of a region i for a major power X during the 1945–85

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period consists of the region i’s percentage share in power X’s alliances with the world (let us label this ‹gure as Xialliance) and its percentage share in X’s foreign trade with the world (Xitrade). The composite score for i’s regional salience for a state X during the 1945–85 period is then calculated as the sum of the components divided by their number: Xisalience = (Xialliance + Xitrade) / 2 Note that this is only an illustration for calculating the regional salience for the post–World War II period. As discussed, other components, such as diplomatic exchanges and colonies, were added for the earlier periods, when their impact on world politics was more prominent. To summarize, the composite score of regional salience is a multidimensional observable category consisting of military, diplomatic, and economic ties between major powers and world regions. It, therefore, provides valid grounds for assessing the presence and intensity of stakes that major powers have in different parts of the world. Regional Stakes in Extended Deterrence: An Empirical Test

There are two separate questions that need to be addressed when assessing the impact of regional stakes on the dynamics of extended deterrence between major powers. General deterrence failures do not necessarily mark the beginning of immediate deterrence (see ‹g. 3.1 and chap. 3). In fact, only 31.37 percent of all cases of general deterrence failures escalated into crises of immediate deterrence—either extended or direct ones. The issue of whether any power would be willing to protect a third party against another power, therefore, addresses the question of what causes extended-immediate deterrence (EID) to occur in the ‹rst place. Huth’s (1994) examination of this question is a rare exception and provides the starting point for future research. The results of his analysis indicated that a Defender was likely to attempt extended deterrence if the Protégé was an ally, geographically proximate, and, surprisingly, dissimilar from the Defender in its domestic regime type. Neither the amount of foreign trade between the Defender and the Protégé nor the Protégé’s strategic natural resources had any signi‹cant effect on the probability of attempted deterrence. Apart from Huth’s study (1994), empirical research rarely addressed this issue at all, concentrating instead on explaining the outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence. The logic of the inherent credibility of


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threats, as suggested in the introductory chapter, may have the potential to illuminate some answers to both issues—at least in part. To summarize the argument brie›y, the question of the inherent credibility of extended deterrent threats has been undeservedly overlooked in the deterrence literature. The neglect of this issue is remarkable since it should be prior to all other concerns such as what types of actions can create a more believable threat to an adversary. If the stakes are low, there might not be a deterrent threat in the ‹rst place, because states “select themselves” into con›icts based on the intensity of their vital interests involved. Vital interests, in turn, are directly related to the strength of the ties between a major power and the region of con›ict, which the conventional wisdom of traditional scholarship has customarily labeled as the “spheres of interest” issue. The measure of regional salience, developed in the previous section, is one of the ‹rst attempts to quantify this old notion. It remains to be seen whether states do indeed select themselves into foreign crises (i.e., extendedimmediate deterrence encounters) based on how much their stakes or interests are involved in a region of an ongoing con›ict between another power and a third state (i.e., general deterrence failure between major powers). To test this argument, the cases of general deterrence failures that never escalated into extended-immediate deterrence against another power should be compared to those cases where this escalation indeed occurred. While the identity of the Defender is certain for the latter situation, it can be a methodological challenge to identify a potential Defender for the former situation, since it does not involve an actual Defender. Nevertheless, the issue is not problematic here as this study is only concerned with major powers as Defenders or Challengers. All major powers provide the universe of potential Defenders in situations of general deterrence failure, whether these cases escalate into immediate deterrence or not. Consequently, the regional stakes of all other major powers were compared to those of the actual Challenger in all cases of general deterrence failure, that is, when the Challenger was involved in a con›ict against a smaller nation. Each case was disaggregated into the same number of dyadic cases as there were major powers in the international system, minus the Challenger. This is not the most optimal solution as it creates a large number of “zeros” (i.e., nonevents), but it is nevertheless used here as one of the optional methods for testing purposes. There are three other methods that were also used for selecting, as randomly as possible, a potential Defender. One is straightforward,

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consisting of a simple random selection of one power from the pool of all major powers except for the Challenger.12 Another option is to calculate the average value of stakes that all other powers have in a region of general deterrence failure. To mitigate the problem of skewness if there is a power with vastly preponderant stakes (i.e., to control for the variance), one standard deviation (SD) needs to be added to the mean value of regional salience for all other major powers as potential Defenders. Finally, there is one measure that makes it more dif‹cult to con‹rm the argument that only the states with high regional stakes are more likely to “select themselves” into immediate deterrence. Major powers with the highest stakes, but who did not act as the Defender (the Challenger naturally again being exempted), can be compared to the actual Defenders in the EID cases. Note that this criterion for selecting a potential Defender for the cases of general deterrence failures that did not escalate into immediate deterrence is biased against the argument developed in this book. Tables 5.2 and 5.3 present the test results concerning the potential of regional salience for explaining the onset of extended-immediate deterrence using the entire range of measures. The descriptive comparisons in table 5.2 reveal that a random selection of a potential Defender is a solid methodological choice since the mean value of a randomly selected Defender is almost equal to the mean value of all potential Defenders. That is, it is analogous to a lottery rather than being a biased selection. Even when a standard deviation is added to the mean value of all potential Defenders, the values of regional salience are still lower for a potential Defender than for the Challenger in general deterrence failures that did not escalate into immediate deterrence. These values are also lower than the average value of regional interests of actual Defenders when extended-immediate deterrence did occur. In short, this brief descriptive survey indicates that general deterrence failures that do not escalate into a major power crisis over the third party are situations in which the Challenger has stronger regional interests than most other powers. Only when there is another power with strong interests in the region of con›ict will this power likely become a Defender. Table 5.3 subjects this conclusion to a more rigorous test. The dependent variable is dichotomous, with a value of zero indicating the absence of EID in a major power dyad and a value of one marking the onset of EID in the dyad. Binomial logit was accordingly used for estimation. Each binomial logit analysis uses alternative measures for selecting a potential Defender when there was no actual Defender (i.e., the cases when there was no EID), whereas the actual Defender is


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always included for all cases of general deterrence failures that escalated into EID crises. The results are statistically signi‹cant and strong across all alternative measures, indicating a positive correlation between the Defender’s interests and the probability of extended-immediate deterrence. These ‹ndings thus provide strong support for the argument on “self-selection” into immediate deterrence based on regional stakes. Note that the same results are found in the test using a measure that is biased against this argument. That is, it selects a major power with the strongest regional interests, apart from the Challenger, for a potential Defender in those cases that did not escalate into immediate deterrence, whereas the cases with escalation into EID include only actual Defenders. These consistently strong ‹ndings across different measures provide a robust validation for the importance of regional salience in predicting the onset of extended-immediate deterrence.

TABLE 5.2. Descriptive Statistics for Regional Salience in General Deterrence Failures Explanatory Variables No Immediate Deterrence Challenger’s Regional Interests Regional Interests of a Potential Defender: A Randomly Selected Major Power Regional Interests of All Potential Defenders: Mean Value Regional Interests of All Potential Defenders: Adjusted Mean Value (mean + SD) Regional Interests of a Potential Defender: A Major Power with the Highest Regional Stakes Immediate Deterrence Cases Challenger’s Regional Interests Actual Defender’s Regional Interests Regional Interests of All Potential Defenders: Mean Value Regional Interests of All Potential Defenders: Adjusted Mean Value (mean + SD)

Mean Value

Standard Deviation

N

14.665

12.716

112

6.484

9.300

112

6.865

6.861

112

12.548

12.304

112

15.424

15.320

112

16.578 15.558

15.613 13.230

70 70

11.522

8.342

70

21.689

14.103

70

Note: As already explained in chapter 3, the number of test cases (N) refers to deterrence dyads. The number of cases for general deterrence failures that did not escalate into immediate deterrence is 105, but some cases involved more than one Challenger, which results in a higher number of cases and subcases (N = 112). The immediate deterrence cases could involve more than one Challenger, Defender, or Protégé, which results in N of 70.

TABLE 5.3. The Impact of Regional Interests on the Onset of ExtendedImmediate Deterrence (EID), Binomial Logit Coefficients Variable

Coefficient

Standard Error

Constant Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests: A Random/Actual Defender Model Chi-Square (df) = 26.184*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –108.171 N (dyads) = 182

–1.167*** –.002

.270 .012

.072***

.016

Constant Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests: A Mean Value of All Potential Defenders Model Chi-Square (df) = 15.523*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –113.501 N = 182

–1.152*** –.002

.278 .012

.080***

.022

Constant Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests: An Adjusted Mean of All Potential Defenders Model Chi-Square (df) = 19.558*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –111.484 N = 182

–1.275*** –.005

.289 .012

.053***

.013

Constant Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests: A Major Power with the Strongest Interests Model Chi-Square (df) = 19.689*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –111.418 N = 182

–1.272*** –.007

.290 .012

.044***

.011

–2.793*** –.012

.210 .010

.049***

.009

Dyads Constant Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests: A Random/Actual Defender Model Chi-Square (df) = 27.426*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –231.777 N (dyads) = 894 *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).


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The coef‹cients for the Challenger’s interests, however, are statistically insigni‹cant, though their sign is negative, suggesting that other major powers are less likely to interfere in con›icts between a major power (Challenger) and a third state located in the region of the Challenger’s vital interests. Nevertheless, this ‹nding is not statistically signi‹cant, leading to the conclusion that the Challenger’s regional stakes are not as relevant as the Defender’s in accounting for the onset of extended-immediate deterrence. Simply put, whether there is another major power that is willing to act as the Defender of a third party depends on the strength of its stakes in the region of con›ict. The probability of extended-immediate deterrence occurring is much less likely to depend on the Challenger’s stakes. The results regarding the relevance of the Challenger’s or Defender’s stakes for the outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence are presented in table 5.4. Since there are four types of outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence, a multinomial logit analysis is used.13 The coef‹cients for both the Defender’s and Challenger’s regional interests are now statistically signi‹cant, though not for the same pairs of deterrence outcomes. Also note that the results are more signi‹cant than those obtained for the predictive power of relative capabilities as an explanatory variable (chap. 4). A careful inspection reveals that the results strongly indicate that a Challenger with strong interests in the region of con›ict is more likely to ‹ght or even agree to compromise rather than yield to the Defender’s demands. Moreover, the higher the Challenger’s stakes, the stronger the Challenger’s preference for war over compromise. The Defender’s willingness to acquiesce is also partly a function of the regional salience of the crisis for the Challenger. Similar patterns emerge for the Defender’s regional interests as well. Most importantly, the positive and statistically signi‹cant parameter estimates for the Defender’s stakes regarding the choice between war or compromise (note that compromise is the base category here) also indicate that the Defender with strong regional interests is more likely to ‹ght than compromise—exactly the same ‹nding as that for the Challenger. These results further con‹rm the strong explanatory power of regional stakes in accounting for the onset and outcome of extendedimmediate deterrence. In the context of the selection bias issue, tables 5.3 and 5.4 strongly indicate that regional ties are positively related to both general and immediate deterrence success despite the potential selection bias.14 That is, the model does not include the Challenger’s ex ante resolve, but the coef‹cients for immediate deterrence are still not

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reversed from those obtained in general deterrence models. Despite some expected attenuation in the estimated coef‹cients due to selection bias, the ‹ndings suggest that favorable regional interests have strong deterring effects in both general and immediate deterrence. A more re‹ned insight into the impact of regional interests is provided by table 5.5, which reports predicted probabilities and their marginal change for different values of regional stakes on both sides. Table 5.5 reveals that, for war to occur, the regional interests of both sides must not only be equal, but must also be strong. If the stakes are low for both major powers (e.g., set at their minimum in the example), they are unlikely to ‹ght. Fighting is also unlikely if only one side has high stakes. The probability of war increases substantially only if both sides have equal and strong stakes in the Protégé’s region. This pattern clearly con‹rms one of the key arguments in this book, that it is the geopolitics of commitments that often explain why certain deterrence failures lead to war. Overall, the results con‹rm the validity of the argument that a state’s decision to join a crisis, in the role of Defender, is largely a function of its intrinsic interests. There is convincing evidence as well that these interests are manifested through the Defender’s ties with its Protégé’s entire region. The variable of regional interests is also a valid predictor of deterrence outcomes, and these ‹ndings are consistent with the logic of deterrence theory emphasizing the role of inherent credibility. In addition, it is an observable category, and if these inter-

TABLE 5.4. The Impact of Regional Interests on Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients

Variable

Compromise vs. AcqDef

AcqCh vs. AcqDef

Challenger’s Regional Interests Defender’s Regional Interests Constant

War Compromise War War vs. vs. vs. vs. AcqDef AcqCh AcqCh Compromise

–.102*** –.057*** .026 (.039) (.024) (.029) –.025 –.032 .046* (.034) (.028) (.033) 1.882** 2.610*** –1.819* (.871) (.769) (1.265) Model Chi-Square (df) = 28.010*** (6) Log Likelihood Function = –72.938 N = 70

Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

–.045* (.036) .007 (.028) –.728* (.560)

.083*** .128*** (.029) (.043) .075** .071** (.031) (.037) –4.429*** –3.701*** (1.181) (1.255)

Credibility and Geopolitics TABLE 5.5.

Predicted Probabilities of Deterrence Outcomes

Regional Interests Challenger Defender

AcqDef p ∆

Symmetric Low Stakes minimum minimum

4.72

Symmetric High Stakes maximum maximum

9.60

AcqCh p ∆ 63.69

+4.9

Asymmetric Stakes maximum minimum

43.58 14.31

p

30.82

0.78

25.62

1.03

+88.7 –59.7

29.77 +21.2

22.28

∆

88.43 +1.0

+5.7 31.37

War

–30.8 0.05

+24.7

–29.3 maximum

Compromise p ∆

–62.8 0.92

+34.0

minimum

123

+2.3 32.05

Note: The calculation of predicted probabilities and marginal change is described in appendix D and chapter 4 (table 4.4).

ests are indicative of the inherent credibility of threats in extended deterrence, as argued in this analysis, then the ‹ndings con‹rm the importance of inherent resolve, as identi‹ed with regional stakes, for predicting both the onset and outcomes of EID crises. The next chapter turns to the problem of potential domestic in›uences on foreign policy credibility as a factor alternative to, but not necessarily incompatible with, a state’s regional stakes as a source of its external resolve.

C HAPTER 6

Resolve and Domestic Costs: Internal Interests at Stake

Only a few works in modern deterrence theory allowed for threat credibility to be at least partly a function of domestic public opinion. One of the pioneering studies pointed to the problem of threat credibility as a function of the audience’s perception of the deterrer’s behavior and suggested that “the audience may be broken down very simply into enemy, domestic, and allied categories” (Kaufmann 1956, 18). Nevertheless, the idea of domestic audiences as a key to the credibility of a government’s foreign threats was not integrated into deterrence analyses until very recently.1 Fearon’s (1994b) formal stylization of the impact of domestic audience costs on a state’s behavior revived the issue of domestic politics in deterrence research. The model presumes that if a Challenger is not deterred in a general deterrence and “selects itself” into con›ict by initiating an immediate deterrence crisis, its resolve must be so strong that it cannot be deterred by an unfavorable balance of forces.2 According to Fearon (1994b, 586; also 1994a), the main implication of this “self-selection effect” is that the balance of force or interests becomes less relevant to the success of immediate deterrence. Instead, the major concern of the players at this stage of con›ict shifts toward their domestic audiences. This argument ‹ts closely the idea, shared by many proponents of the democratic peace view, that domestic politics may have a larger impact on the outcomes of con›icts than does relative power. Speci‹c to deterrence, this view implies a shift in our analytic focus from capabilities to the issue of threat credibility. Furthermore, in immediate deterrence, the domestic costs of foreign policy failure for a Defender are now considered to become the critical indicator of a Defender’s resolve and, thus, the credibility of its threats. Even the “balance of interests,” that is, external issues at stake, becomes less relevant for explaining a state’s behavior at the immediate crisis stage. The Defender’s vulnerability to domestic audience demands corresponds

124

Resolve and Domestic Costs

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closely to its regime type (i.e., “democratic leaders on average have an easier time generating audience costs”; see Fearon 1994b, 582), democratic leaders being more vulnerable to domestic audience costs than autocratic leaders (Fearon 1994b, 585). Consequently, their resolve is assumed to be strong if general deterrence escalates into immediate deterrence crisis. This chapter examines the relationship between a major power’s regime types and its willingness to prevail in deterrence. In particular, the propositions about this relationship speci‹ed in the domestic audience costs model of deterrence (Fearon 1994b; Schultz 1998; Smith 1998) will be examined in the context of all cases of extended-immediate deterrence between major powers from 1895 to 1985. A multinomial logit model is again used to examine whether and how a major power’s domestic political system affects its willingness to acquiesce, compromise, or ‹ght. Threat credibility is explored now as a function of domestic audience costs for failing to protect a third party in an extended deterrence situation. This is contrasted with the explanation, examined in the previous chapter, that treats threat credibility as a function of the regional salience of con›ict for a potential Defender. The domestic audience costs model of deterrent threats is also a part of the democratic peace research program as it attempts to resolve several puzzles in this area.3 A brief survey of the research puzzles that prompted the domestic costs arguments will, therefore, precede the closer examination of the model and its implications for threat credibility in deterrence.

The Democratic Peace Puzzles

The number of empirical studies reporting the absence of war between democracies has grown steadily in the last two decades (e.g., Rummel 1983; Doyle 1986; Maoz and Abdolali 1989; Maoz and Russett 1993; Russett 1993; Ray 1995). Despite extensive research,4 some basic puzzles have yet to be resolved. Even among those who accept the democratic peace theory, there remain strong disagreements over several issues, and the question of why this phenomenon occurs is still to be adequately explained. Are democracies more paci‹c than other regimes in general, or only when they face similar systems? Are democracies dovish in all types of military con›icts including those short of war? The model of domestic audience costs is an important recent

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attempt to address these critical questions, while also introducing the context of deterrence, which was mostly neglected in the democratic peace literature. Causal Explanations

The democratic peace puzzle has been well-publicized since the emergence of the ‹rst empirical reports of the absence of war between democracies (Rummel 1983; Doyle 1986). Such ‹ndings contradicted the previous contention that there was no signi‹cant relationship between domestic regime type and war (Small and Singer 1976). The newly uncovered “joint democratic peace” phenomenon led to alternative theoretical explanations (for the distinction of alternative explanations, see Ember, Ember, and Russett 1992; Maoz and Russett 1993). Proponents of the cultural or normative explanation argue that the phenomenon is the result of domestic socialization into the democratic norms of political compromise and accommodation being externalized into the foreign arena (e.g., Doyle 1986; Dixon 1994). This externalization succeeds because democracies share expectations of similar behavior from each other, which evolves from their common domestic experiences of peaceful con›ict resolutions (Dixon 1994; also Mintz and Geva 1993). Consequently, if democracies get involved in low-scale military disputes they are expected to search for peaceful resolutions, especially when dealing with other democracies. Alternatively, the institutional or structural explanation does not focus on norms and perceptions, but rather concentrates on domestic constraints and costs, which are expected to be higher for democratic leaders than for their authoritarian counterparts. These higher costs make democratic leaders more constrained and therefore less willing to accept the risks associated with war (e.g., Morgan and Campbell 1991; Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992; Lake 1992; Bueno de Mesquita, Morrow, Siverson, and Smith 1999). The predominant argument is that democracies rarely ‹ght each other because their governments face greater decisional constraints than do authoritarian ones (Morgan and Campbell 1991; Morgan and Schwebach 1992). In addition, Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman (1992) suggest that democratic governments are vulnerable to higher domestic political costs in the case of foreign policy failures and are consequently more reluctant to engage in violent con›icts that often have uncertain outcomes. More recently, Bueno de Mesquita, Morrow, Siverson, and Smith (1999) expanded the institutional model of democratic peace to include


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some elements of audience costs arguments as well. Since democratic leaders are more vulnerable to domestic costs for foreign defeats, they avoid con›icts they do not expect to win. Moreover, due to domestic institutional constraints, they need to try harder than autocrats to mobilize domestic support and resources for risky foreign policies. So “two democrats in a dispute both . . . can anticipate that, if they go to war, each will spend lots of resources in a risky situation in which neither is disproportionately advantaged by greater effort. Therefore, democrats are generally inclined to negotiate with one another rather than ‹ght.” By contrast, the political survival of autocratic leaders primarily depends on satisfying key constituents (either the military or civilian domestic elite) “through the distribution of private goods. Autocrats do not have a great need to produce successful public policies. Consequently, they try less hard than democrats in war” (794). This, in turn, makes them an easier target, which then explains why democratic states are not as restrained against autocratic regimes as they are when facing other democratic states. Their argument, developed through a formal model as well, seems to explain both dyadic and monadic aspects of democratic peace regularities (see the next section). It is also closely related to the audience costs literature (Fearon 1994b; Schultz 1998; Smith 1998), which suggests that once a democracy “selects itself” in a serious dispute, the high domestic costs of foreign policy defeat make it less willing to compromise and thus more prone to con›ict escalation. Note that this theoretical expectation of audience costs models is at odds with the normative model’s expectation that democracies should be less likely to escalate, especially when interacting with other democracies (e.g., Dixon 1994). That is, unlike the model developed by Bueno de Mesquita and his coauthors (1999), the audience costs models of deterrence do not seem entirely consistent with the monadic approach to democratic con›icts (see below). These divergent predictions alert us to the importance of a closer examination of con›ict initiation as well as escalation. Empirical tests of the relative explanatory power of both normative and structural theories have produced inconsistent results. Some studies lend support to normative arguments (Ember, Ember, and Russett 1992; Maoz and Russett 1993; Russett 1993), while others ‹nd a greater explanatory power in institutional arguments (Morgan and Schwebach 1992). Despite their different understandings of the causal mechanism behind democratic peace, both normative and structural approaches challenge the realist paradigm of international relations.

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Instead of treating a state as a black box in the international struggle for power, both see foreign policy as a function of domestic politics. The realist view, on the other hand, considers the democratic peace ‹ndings to be confounded by factors such as a stable balance of power, alliances, or mutual interests in a realpolitik sense, like those shared by democratic allies during the Cold War (e.g., Farber and Gowa 1997; Gowa 1999). The critics of democratic peace theory argue that the low probability of democratic states engaging each other in wars was limited to the period between 1945 and 1980. They consequently doubt that the “democratic peace phenomenon” is generalizable beyond the Cold War era, and question the appropriateness or timeliness of U.S. foreign policy, for instance, aimed toward spreading democracy in the post–Cold War context (e.g., Gowa 1999). Unlike the rest of the democratic peace scholars, who juxtapose domestic political variables to power- and interest-based factors, the domestic audience costs model claims that these latter factors matter less only in the immediate stage of deterrence crises. That is, observable measures of the balance of forces and balance of interests do deter challenges. However, if the challenge does occur, despite an unfavorable balance of power or interests, then the Challenger has signaled its strong resolve. This high resolve, then, overshadows the importance of power- or interest-based factors. Accordingly, a secondary objective of this analysis is to examine the relative explanatory power of domestic politics and realist paradigms in the case of deterrence—a type of con›ict that warrants closer attention in the democratic peace literature. Are Democracies Generally More Pacific?

A second puzzle that is as yet unresolved is related to the question of whether democracies are inherently more paci‹c than nondemocracies. Both monadic and dyadic approaches to this question have emerged (Rousseau et al. 1996). Proponents of the former argue that it is suf‹cient to study democracies as monads as they are less aggressive when dealing with any opponent, regardless of its regime type. On the other hand, those who use dyadic analysis expect the behavior of democracies to vary depending on their opponent’s regime characteristics. The proponents of the domestic audience costs model also advocate the dyadic position. “In the model, democratic leaders have a structural incentive to pursue more escalatory, committing strategies when they face authoritarians than when they face fellow democrats”


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(Fearon 1994b, 586). This study provides the ‹rst empirical test of such a proposition in strictly deterrence situations.5 As for previous empirical ‹ndings concerning the validity of monadic or dyadic explanations of military disputes and wars, here again the evidence is mixed. While cases of violence between democracies have been rare, Maoz and Abdolali (1989) ‹nd at least the same frequency of violent con›icts in mixed pairs (democracy vs. nondemocracy) as in nondemocratic dyads. Moreover, democracies are just as likely to initiate such disputes. Some studies show a higher probability of violent con›ict among nondemocratic dyads than among those with at least one democracy involved (Bremer 1993; Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992), while others ‹nd the reverse pattern (Morgan and Schwebach 1992; Oneal and Russett 1997). In yet another analysis, Dixon (1994) ‹nds no difference between mixed and strictly nondemocratic dyads in their likelihood to settle con›icts peacefully.6 Despite these diverse ‹ndings, the weight of empirical evidence seems to suggest that democracies are less paci‹c when facing a nondemocratic opponent. In Search of the Dependent Variable

What does “democratic peace” really tell us? Is the democratic peace argument relevant only for wars? Or, alternatively, can it provide some insights into the less severe forms of con›ict, those short of war? In one of the ‹rst systematic analyses of the connection between regime type and con›ict behavior, Maoz and Abdolali (1989) found democratic dyads to be less likely than nondemocratic or mixed dyads to enter either wars or militarized disputes short of war. Subsequent re‹nements of this result have shown democratic states to be less likely than other regimes to participate in militarized disputes in general, although more likely to escalate to wars against nondemocracies (Rousseau et al. 1996). Relatedly, Bremer (1993) ‹nds that disputes between democracies are more likely to escalate in the ‹rst stages of con›ict (i.e., to some form of the limited use of force), but less likely to continue escalation to full-scale war, than those disputes involving mixed or nondemocratic dyads. Together, these ‹ndings suggest that the impact of regime type on foreign behavior varies according to the type and severity of military con›ict. Besides differentiating con›ict types by severity, it is also important to examine the linkage between domestic factors and peaceful

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forms of crisis resolution. Indeed, an improved understanding of the dynamics that lead to compromise, or adjustments without force, might illuminate the causal mechanism underlying the democratic peace phenomenon. As Dixon has noted, the problem of ambiguous evidence and tangled causal mechanisms (e.g., normative vs. institutional) is not solved, but actually “exacerbated by the fact that most of these studies employ but a single testing ground where questions focus on what democracies do not do (i.e., ‹ght), rather than on what they might do differently” (1994, 15). Within democratic peace research, alternate peaceful forms of dispute termination have been explored much less frequently than violent outcomes.7 It is evident that much more work needs to be done in specifying and enriching the domain of the dependent variable in democratic peace research. The differentiation among peaceful outcomes might be particularly informing about the absence of wars between democracies. Did two democratic states decide not to ‹ght because they were willing to compromise, or because one of them was more willing to yield to an adversary sharing similar democratic institutions than to an adversary with a different ideological makeup? The last scenario of peaceful resolution represents deterrence failure as much as war does. If the ultimate concern is related to policy success or failure, then de‹ning the dependent variable dichotomously, as the absence or presence of war, is not particularly revealing about the political gains and losses from the dispute. Such a de‹nition can merely indicate that neither side was willing to lose face peacefully. Re‹nement of the dependent variable to re›ect such nuances as the notions of violent and peaceful foreign policy failures should provide a more adequate empirical test for the democratic peace propositions. My differentiation between four distinct deterrence outcomes (introduced in chap. 3) directly addresses these concerns.

Domestic Audience Costs and Deterrence

As already pointed out, recent models of domestic audience costs (Fearon 1994b; Smith 1998) represent a variation of the structural approach to democratic peace and also provide a link to strategic studies of deterrence. They certainly enrich modern deterrence studies, by providing a means of exploring the possible connections between domestic politics and threat credibility, a long-neglected issue in deterrence theory. The audience costs approach is essentially based on two


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premises. First, leaders’ domestic audience costs for foreign policy failures are a function of their regime type; second, leaders “select” themselves into foreign con›icts depending on their prior beliefs about their opponent’s future behavior (Fearon 1994b).8 The formal stylizations of deterrence, based on these two premises, generated several theoretical expectations. Central to the democratic peace debate is the expectation that leaders in democracies are less likely to back down in con›icts with authoritarian states than with democracies, because their domestic costs for such failures are higher. On the other hand, if the rate of domestic costs is similar and high for both disputants, as would be the case in con›icts between democracies, escalation is less likely to occur. Furthermore, due to these selection bias effects, the key variables in realist analyses—relative power and alliances—become less important predictors of behavior once general deterrence fails and the immediate deterrence crisis starts. Smith (1998) also takes up the issue of domestic political survival and the credibility of foreign commitments. He models crisis behavior in the context of domestic reelections and assumes that voters evaluate foreign statements as signals of their leaders’ competence. Leaders have an incentive to make hawkish statements since “nonintervention signals lower competence. . . . This interpretation supports Fearon’s conjecture that electorally vulnerable democratic leaders have larger audience costs than their autocratic rivals. At the extreme, when leaders have nothing to risk, they cannot commit to carrying out their threats” (633–34). Once again, the major implication is that democratic states make more credible threats than autocracies as they are likely to sustain larger domestic political losses as a result of foreign policy failures.9 The main question to be examined here is, then, whether deterrence works differently depending on the regime types of the actors. It is worth reiterating that the link between domestic politics and threat credibility has been a long-neglected issue in deterrence theory. The domestic audience costs models, however, provide us with three key hypotheses linking the deterrer’s willingness to persevere in deterrence to the level of its domestic costs. One hypothesis contradicts the monadic democratic peace argument, as it maintains that democracies are less likely to back down in an ongoing dispute (i.e., immediate deterrence encounters) than are authoritarian states, since their domestic political costs are higher for policy failures. On the other hand, the second argument of the audience costs approach is quite consistent with the dyadic approach to democratic

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peace. The logic of the model suggests that deterrent crises between democracies are less likely to escalate than those between the states with divergent audience costs rates (i.e., those between democratic and authoritarian states). The third key hypothesis compares the impact of internal and external factors on the onset and outcomes of deterrence. It is generally expected that balance of power and issues at stake matter more in the onset stage, while domestic regime factors have stronger impact once the deterrence encounter started. According to this model, we should generally expect the direction of correlations to be reversed when moving from the question of whether deterrence would start to the issue of how it is likely to end. The main implication of the self-selection effect is that the balance of forces becomes less relevant for the success of immediate deterrence, while it is indeed signi‹cant, together with the external issues at stakes, for predicting the onset of immediate deterrence. On the other hand, the major concern of the players in the stage of immediate deterrence, i.e., once general deterrence failed and escalated into immediate deterrence, shifts toward their domestic audiences. The credibility of their threats then becomes a function of their domestic costs for failing to succeed in an immediate deterrence crisis. The third argument about the factors impacting the onset and outcomes of immediate deterrence will be subject to empirical analysis in the next chapter. Although Fearon (1994b), for example, was primarily referring to the power balances as a factor that affects the choices of states whether to “select or do not select themselves” into immediate deterrence, the empirical analysis here points in the direction of a potential Defender’s regional stakes as the critical selfselecting determinant. Contrary to the domestic audience model (Fearon 1994b), however, regional interests are also found to be signi‹cant in accounting for immediate deterrence outcomes as well (see chap. 5).

An Empirical Analysis of Domestic Costs in Deterrence A Quantitative Measure of Domestic Regime Type

The magnitude of domestic audience costs is considered to be a function of the domestic regime type (Fearon 1994b, 582; see also Schultz 1998; Smith 1998). Regime type is commonly measured in terms of a nation’s overall level of democracy as operationalized in the Polity III


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data set (Jaggers and Gurr 1995). The Polity III democracy and autocracy scores are additive continuous measures that aggregate a nation’s ratings on several variables: degree of competitiveness and openness of executive recruitment, extent of regulation and competitiveness of political participation, and constraints on the chief executive. The measure is calculated by subtracting a state’s autocracy score from its democracy score. The resulting regime score ranges from –10 (complete autocracy) to +10 (complete democracy).10 The Effects of Regime Types on Deterrence Outcomes

Descriptive statistics for the independent (domestic regime type) and dependent (the outcomes of extended-immediate deterrence) variables in this data set show several distinct patterns. First, as shown in table 6.1, exactly 50 percent of all cases of extended deterrence ended with the Challenger’s acquiescence. The frequency of the Challenger’s acquiescence in democratic dyads is particularly striking (83 percent of the total), while there was no instance of Challenger’s acquiescence in nondemocratic dyads.11 This pattern is almost reversed for nondemocratic dyads. Although no instance of Defender’s acquiescence was found in democratic dyads, it is three times more likely for the Defender to acquiesce in nondemocratic dyads (57.1 percent) than in the entire universe of cases (17.1 percent). Note also that the descriptive statistics are consistent with democratic peace research, since not a single case of war was found between democratic powers (table 6.1). A brief descriptive survey of explanatory variables also reveals several interesting patterns, to be subjected later to more robust examination in the logit analysis. For instance, the average regime score for the Defender is higher than that for the Challenger, potentially indicating that it is more likely for a nondemocratic state to challenge the status quo and trigger a deterrence crisis. Most important, regime similarity seems to have a signi‹cant impact on either side’s willingness to yield to the opponent’s demands. Table 6.2 presents the results of the multinomial logit analysis of deterrence outcomes. The parameter estimates indicate the predicted marginal effects of the regime score on the log-odds ratio between the outcomes in all six pairs of deterrence outcomes. The logit analysis shows the domestic politics variable to be a statistically signi‹cant predictor of certain types of deterrence outcomes. The chi-square is far less signi‹cant than the chi-square of the regional salience model, but it nevertheless has a strong explanatory power especially for the pairs of

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outcomes that include the Defender’s acquiescence as one of the two possibilities. A democratic Defender is least likely to acquiesce to the Challenger’s demands. Moreover, a democratic Defender is also less likely to acquiesce (see the ‹rst three pairs of outcomes in table 6.2) if the Challenger is also a democratic power. This is indeed a puzzling ‹nding, worthy of further examination. While the parameter estimates in a logit (or probit) analysis are convenient for establishing the statistical signi‹cance of independent variables and the direction of their effects on deterrence outcomes, they are inconvenient for assessing the magnitude of those effects. To assess the substantive impact for the statistically signi‹cant independent variables, equations 1 and 2 in appendix D were used to predict the probabilities of each deterrence outcome for different combinations of regime types (see table 6.3). In addition, this method provides a convenient solution to the measurement problem that often arises in testing the dyadic democratic peace argument. It is common to select a cutoff point on the democracy scale in order to classify states as either democratic or nondemocratic types. The selected numerical cutoff, usually set at +7 on a scale from –10 to +10, is necessarily a somewhat arbitrary decision (see Jaggers and Gurr 1995). To avoid the arbitrariness of such a selection, the threshold I use is set by the mean value of the sample in this study.12 That is, the predicted probabilities of deterrence outcomes are calculated given the average values of regime scores for the four types of

TABLE 6.1. Descriptive Statistics for the Domestic Regime Variable Explanatory Variables

Mean Value

Defender’s Regime Score Challenger’s Regime Score

4.83 –1.87

Total Distribution of Deterrence Outcomes

Defender’s Acquiescence Challenger’s Acquiescence Compromise War Total

SD

Minimum

Maximum

7.19 7.42

–9 –9

10 10

Only Both Non- Defender democratic Democratic

Only Challenger Both Democratic Democratic N

N

%

N

%

12 35 12 11 70

17.1 50.0 17.1 15.7 100.0

4 0 1 2 7

57.1 0.0 14.3 28.6 100.0

N 6 25 7 7 45

% 13.3 55.6 15.6 15.6 100.0

2 5 3 2 12

% 16.7 41.7 25.0 16.7 100.0

N 0 5 1 0 6

% 0.0 83.3 16.7 0.0 100.0


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actors in this data set of deterrence encounters. Those are: democratic Challengers (the mean value of +9.0 in this data set), democratic Defenders (+9.1), nondemocratic Challengers (–5.63), and nondemocratic Defenders (–6.63). In this way, we can estimate the probabilities of different deterrence outcomes for the typical Defender and Challenger of each regime type.

TABLE 6.2. Domestic Regime and Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients Compromise AcqCh vs. vs. AcqDef AcqDef

Variable Defender’s Democracy Score

Challenger’s Democracy Score Constant

.211** (.098) .225** (.103) –.156 (.490)

War Compromise War War vs. vs. vs. vs. AcqDef AcqCh AcqCh Compromise

.290*** (.093) .237*** (.097) .487 (.448)

.125* (.093) .143* (.102) –.027 (.460)

–.078 (.068) –.012 (.061) –.644* (.460)

–.165** (.080) –.094 (.078) –.515 (.441)

–.086 (.088) –.082 (.088) .129 (.484)

Model Chi-Square (df) = 16.326* (6) Log Likelihood Function = –86.943 Predicted correctly = 54% N = 70 Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

TABLE 6.3.

Joint Regime Effects on the Probabilities of Deterrence Outcomes

Political Regime Types

AcqDef

AcqCh

Compromise

War

Joint Democracy Democratic Defender, Democratic Challenger

0.40

77.34

17.83

4.43

Mixed Democratic Defender, Nondemocratic Challenger

9.99

59.93

16.51

13.57

Mixed Nondemocratic Defender, Democratic Challenger

16.27

32.74

25.94

25.05

Joint Nondemocracy Nondemocratic Defender, Nondemocratic Challenger

76.28

4.77

4.51

14.43

Note: Predicted probabilities are presented as percentage values. Defender’s (Challenger’s) democracy = +9.1 (+9.0), Defender’s (Challenger’s) nondemocracy = –6.63 (–5.63).

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Figures 6.1 through 6.4 visually facilitate a better interpretation of the likelihood of each deterrence outcome for the entire range of the Challenger’s and Defender’s regime scores, not only for their average values as shown in table 6.3. Note that the ‹gures use the same 21point scale of regime score for both Defenders and Challengers (i.e., ranging from –10 to +10), but the order of the values is sometimes reversed on the axis to facilitate a better visual insight into the pattern of relationships. It is evident from these ‹gures that the domestic regime variable is useful for predicting the probability of either side’s acquiescence (‹gs. 6.1 and 6.2), where the predicted probabilities range from 0 to 100 for different combinations of domestic regimes. On the other hand, the validity of the domestic variable substantially decreases if we want to predict the probability of compromise or war. Note that the highest probability of either compromise or war, which can be predicted with the domestic regime variable, is less than 30 percent (‹gs. 6.3 and 6.4). As table 6.3 and ‹gure 6.1 show, acquiescence by a democratic Defender is less likely to occur in both joint and mixed regime dyads. This is especially the case with joint democratic dyads where the Challenger’s acquiescence is the consistent outcome (see also ‹g. 6.2). The mixed regime dyads also have a low frequency of Defender’s acquiescence if the Defender is democracy. However, the Challenger’s acquiescence is the probable outcome in dyads with a democratic Challenger and a nondemocratic Defender (see ‹g. 6.2). Overall, it seems that, almost regardless of regime type, it is playing the role of the Defender that makes a state less likely to back down. Nevertheless, to the extent that democracies are presumed to have higher audience costs, the result at least partly supports the audience costs argument about the escalatory propensities of states with high domestic costs. Another hypothesis of the domestic audience costs model, which is consistent with the democratic peace argument, predicts less frequent escalation between democracies than between other types of regimes. The test indeed shows that war is most likely to result only in the case of deterrence failures between different types of political regimes. However, table 6.3 and ‹gure 6.4 reveal that war is also unlikely between authoritarian states (for similar ‹ndings, see Maoz and Abdolali 1989, 32; Ray 1995, 35),13 that is, the relationship is curvilinear. Contradicting the logic of domestic audience costs and democratic peace arguments in general, this suggests that similarity of domestic regimes, regardless of type, makes war a less likely occurrence in extended deterrence con›icts between major powers. War is

Fig. 6.1. A joint domestic regime effect on the probability of defender’s acquiescence

Fig. 6.2. A joint domestic regime effect on the probability of challenger’s acquiescence

Fig. 6.3. A joint domestic regime effect on the probability of compromise

Fig. 6.4.

A joint domestic regime effect on the probability of war


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more likely than any other outcome only between dissimilar regime types, though the predicted probability of war is very low (always less than 30 percent) to allow for any de‹nite conclusions. In sum, the empirical analysis shows the domestic costs model to have strong predictive power, but only for limited combinations of regime types and only for some deterrence outcomes. The domestic costs model is superior in explaining deterrence outcomes for similar regime dyads, that is, both democratic and authoritarian dyads. Furthermore, where extended deterrence situations involve two democracies, it is essential to distinguish between Challengers and Defenders for predicting outcomes. Democratic Defenders are unlikely to back down when dealing with democratic opponents, and democratic Challengers tend to acquiesce almost as much as their authoritarian counterparts. It is also important to distinguish Defender from Challenger in joint authoritarian dyads. However, the pattern of expected behavior is reversed. In con›icts involving authoritarian major powers, it is the Defender who is most likely to acquiesce. In contrast to similar regime dyads, the potential of the domestic costs model to explain deterrence outcomes between dissimilar regimes is weak. One interesting ‹nding here is that compromise, an often neglected outcome in the deterrence literature, is a likely outcome only between dissimilar regimes of equivalent power capability. However, as pointed out earlier, war is also unlikely between similar regimes, either democratic or authoritarian. In the context of the democratic peace puzzles reviewed earlier, the results are mixed. Regarding monadic versus dyadic arguments, the test shows that the domestic politics model is superior in explaining deterrence outcomes if the opponents have similar regimes. There was no case of war in democratic dyads (table 6.1), and the dyadic argument is, therefore, corroborated. Yet the monadic argument of the theory of domestic audience costs is not supported here. Democratic Defenders are less likely to back down regardless of the opponent’s regime type. Regarding the validity of normative versus structural explanations, my analysis is not by any means a test of their validity. Still, it is interesting to observe that normative/cultural explanations of democratic peace anticipate that compromise should be most likely between democracies, whereas my results show that this does not appear to be the case in deterrence situations between major powers.

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Is threat credibility then a function of domestic political costs? It depends. The expectation of the domestic audience costs models that democracies will not back down in confrontations with nondemocracies is supported for democratic Defenders. However, it is not substantiated for democratic Challengers in extended deterrence. This ‹nding underscores the need to differentiate states according to the roles they play in extended deterrence in order to develop a more re‹ned insight into the willingness of the states with high domestic costs to persist and carry out their international threats. It is further interesting to explain theoretically the rationale for the Challenger to acquiesce in democratic dyads, while the pattern is reversed in nondemocratic dyads where the Defender is the one who acquiesces. This ‹nding eludes explanations provided by previous research. The next chapter will attempt to solve this and other puzzles, uncovered by the test, in the context of the interactive effects of all three factors—relative capabilities, regional salience, and domestic regime type—on deterrence outcomes.

Part III

C HAPTER 7

Predicting Major Power Conflicts: High Stakes or Costly Signals?

The traditional view of the necessary conditions for successful deterrence is that a potential attacker must perceive the deterrer’s threats as capable and credible for retaliation. Major powers can achieve, and often have, the capability necessary for effective threats. Their key problem is conveying their willingness to execute threats. This problem has been further exacerbated by the advent of the nuclear age, as retaliation against another nuclear power could trigger one’s own selfdestruction given that the adversary has second-strike capability. As outlined in the introduction, two different schools of thought have emerged from the concern with threat credibility: commitment theory and theory of inherent credibility. As pointed out in the introduction, deterrence literature has mostly been in›uenced by the theory of costly signals and commitments. The idea of inherent resolve, which I argue is more suitable for understanding the majority of international con›icts, has been left largely undeveloped. In this chapter, I turn to the ‹nal test and compare the empirical validity of these two approaches to deterrence. Previous chapters examined several factors individually that may shed light on the dynamics of deterrence between major powers. In particular, the notion of inherent credibility, as a function of either external or internal interests at stake, was explored as an alternative to the idea that deterrence works best when the signals are costly and behavior is ‹rm regardless of inherent stakes. In this chapter, I ‹rst examine to what degree external regional stakes are more potent elements of inherent resolve, and then combine them with domestic stakes into an expanded version of the inherent credibility model. I then compare the explanatory power of both inherent credibility models to that of costly commitments. The last chapter concludes with a discussion of the different policy implications that follow from the two approaches to threat credibility. In light of the empirical ‹ndings, it will evaluate

143

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which approach is more suitable for understanding historical and contemporary developments in world con›icts.

Inherent Credibility Model

The key components of the inherent credibility model are (1) relative capabilities, indicating whether the deterrer’s threat can be carried out, and (2) inherent resolve, indicating the observable and nonmanipulable elements of the Defender’s threat credibility. Regarding the second component, this book argues that regional interests should be considered as its primary ingredient in extended deterrence. Deterrence and National Interest

Extended deterrence is the most common form of con›ictual interaction between major powers (see chap. 3). What then constitutes a major power’s national interest in extended deterrence? My argument throughout the book is simple and quite intuitive, although often forgotten in the nuclear dilemmas of the Cold War climate. Namely, in extended deterrence, a state’s (Defender’s) willingness to become involved in con›ict depends on the strength of its interest in the third party (Protégé), threatened by another power (Challenger). Regional aspects of major power rivalry have rarely been subject to rigorous theoretical and empirical analysis (for an overview, see chap. 5). Although there is almost no theoretical framework available for their examination, these issues are partly related to the earlier idea of “spheres of interest” found in historical and geopolitical writings and its modern counterparts such as “shatterbelts” (Cohen 1973) and a territory’s “relational importance” (Goertz and Diehl 1992). The notion of inherent credibility in deterrence studies (alternatively, the issues at stake) can thus be tied to the traditional scholarship on the regional aspects of major power rivalry. Speci‹cally, as suggested and illustrated in chapter 5, a major power’s stakes in the entire region of con›ict can be considered as a main source of the inherent credibility of its extended threats. The regional stakes, in turn, can be interpreted to re›ect the tightness of relations between a major power and most states in a particular region. Another observable element of resolve could be internal, related to the domestic costs of foreign policy failure. When threat credibility was examined as a function of domestic factors, the signi‹cance of domes-

Predicting Major Power Con›icts

145

tic costs was high, although lower than the signi‹cance of external regional stakes as an indicator of inherent resolve (chap. 6). These ‹ndings suggest that foreign stakes, primarily manifested through selective regionalism in foreign policy orientations, predominate over other factors, though they do not necessarily supplant them. Empirical Evidence

In this section, I examine the impact of relative capabilities and geopolitical interests on both the onset and outcome of deterrence. Later I add domestic political costs to the model in order to examine whether and how the addition of domestic aspects affects the ‹ndings. First, I argue that the inherent credibility model, the keystone of this book, has the potential to explain both the onset and outcome of immediate deterrence. The results are, therefore, expected to be statistically and substantively signi‹cant for explaining why general deterrence fails and what outcome is likely to ensue. Second, the model can also provide valuable insights into the ongoing discussion regarding selection bias and deterrence. As discussed in chapter 6, one of the main theoretical issues in deterrence studies concerns the problem of selection effects. States “select or do not select themselves” into foreign disputes depending on their prior beliefs about the likely behavior of their opponents if the dispute occurs. One consequence of this self-selection is that “hypotheses that are true for general deterrence may be exactly reversed for immediate deterrence” (Fearon 1994a, 245). For this reason, recent theoretical research on selection effects (Bueno de Mesquita 1990; Bueno de Mesquita and Siverson 1995; Fearon 1994a, 1994b; Morrow 1989; Smith 1996, 1998) has developed new assumptions about deterrence behavior that challenge some of the premises of previous conventional approaches to deterrence. The approach to selection effects concurs with the empirical literature on deterrence (e.g., Huth and Russett 1984) that general deterrence is likely to succeed if the balance of interests and forces favors the Defender. However, the argument concerning selection effects reverses conventional expectations about the effects of these factors on immediate deterrence. If general deterrence fails, it indicates a strongly resolved Challenger, willing to select itself into the con›ict despite possible differences in capabilities and observable interests in the Protégé. Consequently, these variables are expected to be related to general deterrence success, but immediate deterrence failure: “ex ante mea-

146


sures of the defender’s commitment to the protege should be related to general deterrence success, but immediate deterrence failure” (Fearon 1994a, 258). The logic of the inherent credibility model, however, clearly anticipates the opposite results. A nation with stronger regional stakes, taken as an observable measure of interests, is also expected to prevail in immediate deterrence crises. Since the empirical test in the present analysis does not incorporate the Challenger’s ex ante resolve, then, according to the argument on selection effects results, the estimated coef‹cients are likely to re›ect selection bias. This bias should, in turn, attenuate and may even reverse the expected relationship between regional interests and immediate deterrence outcomes. In other words, if the selection bias literature is correct, then the present empirical analysis should make it harder to validate the inherent credibility model as it predicts the same intensity and direction of effects of regional salience for both the onset and outcomes of immediate deterrence crises. A Basic Model: Capabilities and Regional Stakes The Onset of Immediate Deterrence. Previous chapters examined each explanatory factor individually. Let us now turn to examining their combined effect on deterrence. The two key components of deterrence—relative power and inherent credibility, the latter manifested through regional interests—are both included in the model of general deterrence failure as presented in table 7.1. There are two variations of the model: Model 1 includes a composite military-economic measure of power (Correlates of War index of National Capabilities), while Model 2 includes only the military components. The second variable— inherent resolve—is indicated by relative regional interests. The estimation of the relative ratios of the Defender’s and Challenger’s regional interests follows the same calculating routine as that used for their relative capabilities. The unit of analysis is the major power dyad. This unit of analysis (also used in chap. 5) compares the regional stakes of the actual Challenger to those of all other major powers in all cases of general deterrence failure. The same method is used for examining the variable of relative power. Each case of general deterrence failure, that is, a con›ict between a major power and a smaller nation, is disaggregated into the same number of dyadic cases as there are major powers in the international system, minus the Challenger. The dependent variable is coded zero if the con›ict did not escalate into immediate deterrence between two major powers in the dyad, and one if it did.


147

Table 7.1 shows that the results are statistically signi‹cant. A major power with stronger regional stakes (inherent resolve) than the Challenger is likely to act as the Defender of the smaller nation against that Challenger. Given the high statistical signi‹cance of parameters, this ‹nding ‹rmly points to self-selection effects regarding the observable variable of Defender’s inherent resolve, if this variable is interpreted in terms of the Defender’s and Challenger’s regional stakes in the disputed area. It should also be noted that the results show similar self-selection effects for the power variable. The stronger a potential Defender is relative to the Challenger, the more likely it is to become the actual Defender of the target nation. Deterrence Outcomes. Two variations of the inherent credibility model of deterrence outcomes are presented in table 7.2. Both use the relative ratios of the Defender’s and Challenger’s regional interests and capabilities. Model 1 analyzes the same variables as those tested for predicting the onset of extended-immediate deterrence (see table 7.1), that is, the Challenger’s and Defender’s regional interests are used as explanatory variables. Speci‹cally, Model 1 uses the ratio of the Defender’s capabilities (or, regional interests) to the sum of the Defender’s and Challenger’s capabilities (or, regional interests). Model 2 examines the effects of power parity as well as the effects of parity or disparity between the Defender’s and Challenger’s regional stakes on deterrence outcomes. TABLE 7.1. The Impact of Regional Interests and Relative Power on the Onset of Extended-Immediate Deterrence Variable Model 1 Constant Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Model Chi-Square (df) = 48.334*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –217.224 N (dyads) = 874 Model 2 Constant Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (Military COW) Model Chi-Square (df) = 44.073*** (2) Log Likelihood Function = –223. 453 N (dyads) = 894 *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

Coefficient

Standard Error

–4.570*** .029*** .021***

.436 .004 .006

–4.248** .028*** .015***

.407 .004 .005

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One direct way to estimate the effect of power parity or disparity on deterrence outcomes is as follows: Power Disparity = abs|(DefCAP – ChCAP)/(DefCAP + ChCAP)| where DefCAP = Defender’s capability ChCAP = Challenger’s capability Power Disparity = the degree of power inequality between Defender and Challenger The resulting value ranges from 0 (exact parity) to 1, with a higher value indicating a larger distance from parity, that is, an increase in power disparity. The same method is used to calculate relative interests.1 As table 7.2 shows, the ‹ndings for both relative capabilities and regional interests are signi‹cant for most of the pairs of outcomes, and the coef‹cients for the regional interest disparity are particularly statistically signi‹cant. Note that only EID dyads are now the appropriate unit of analysis for this test. Since there are a number of tables presenting MNL models of deterrence outcomes in this chapter, for the sake of simplicity they all represent the effects of the variables on three outcomes (Defender’s acquiescence, Challenger’s acquiescence, compromise) relative to the same baseline category, that is, war. Due to the number of alternative models tested in this chapter, the tables representing the MNL coef‹cient estimates do not include the odds ratios for the three remaining pairs of outcomes (i.e., the probability of the Defender’s acquiescence relative to the probability of the Challenger’s acquiescence and that of each side’s acquiescence to the likelihood of compromise). The estimates for these three pairs of peaceful outcomes will, however, be presented and discussed in the text, and the tables that show the substantive signi‹cance of explanatory variables will include probabilities for all four deterrence outcomes, which are easier to interpret (see appendix D for technical details). The ‹ndings obtained for Model 1 are signi‹cant for most pairs of outcomes. The coef‹cients’ positive signs indicate that a Defender with stronger regional interests or power is more likely to prevail over the Challenger, prompting the Challenger to acquiesce rather than ‹ght. War is also less likely than the Defender’s acquiescence when there is an asymmetry of regional stakes to the Defender’s advantage. These results strongly support the model, but with one puzzling ‹nding.


149

There is a statistically signi‹cant likelihood for compromise if the alternative choice is war even though the Defender has stronger stakes than the Challenger. By contrast, under the same conditions of stronger Defender’s stakes, compromise is not likely to occur when the alternative choice is the Challenger’s acquiescence. This ‹nding is, in turn, quite supportive of the general argument concerning regional saliencies. Although not shown in table 7.2, the results indicate that a Defender with stronger relative interests or power is less likely to acquiesce than the Challenger. The probability of the Defender’s acquiescence in this situation is also much lower than the likelihood of compromise. As for Model 2, positive and statistically signi‹cant coef‹cients indicate that war is less likely than the other three deterrence outcomes if the Defender and the Challenger do not have equal stakes in the Pro-

TABLE 7.2. The Inherent Credibility Model of Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients Defender Acquiesces Model 1 Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Constant

Challenger Acquiesces Compromise

.014 (.017) .043** (.031) –2.279 (1.853)

.024** (.016) .094*** (.029) –4.283*** (1.813)

.029** (.017) .058** (.032) –3.836** (1.998)

.011 (.016) –.013 (.021) .146 (.956)

.028** (.014) –.007 (.018) .231 (.852)

.057*** (.019) –.046** (.027) –1.873* (1.297)

War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 15.753** (6) Log Likelihood Function = –77.176 N = 69 (missing capabilities data for 1 case) Model 2 Disparity in Regional Interests Power Disparity (COW) Constant War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 17.371*** (6) Log Likelihood Function = –76.367 N = 69 (missing capabilities data for 1 case) Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

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tégé’s region. Therefore, the results clearly show that parity in regional interests makes war more likely. This ‹nding supports the old, but almost never rigorously tested, idea of gray areas found in the traditional historical and geopolitical literature. That is, war is more likely to erupt if the Challenger and Defender have equally strong stakes in the region of con›ict. This ‹nding is statistically signi‹cant if there is a choice between the Challenger’s acquiescence or compromise (not shown in table 7.2). It is not statistically signi‹cant at the conventionally acceptable levels, however, for the Defender’s choice between acquiescence and war. Power parity is suf‹ciently signi‹cant only to determine the choice between war and compromise. In this respect, the direction of its effect is opposite from that of regional interests: adversaries of equal capabilities seem to be more likely to compromise than ‹ght, or, in other words, power disparity makes compromise less likely than war. It is also worth mentioning that, although not shown in table 7.2, the probability of compromise, relative to any other outcome, is consistently signi‹cant for both relative power and interests, again indicating the reversed effects of these two variables. Adversaries with asymmetric inherent (regional) stakes are more likely to compromise than acquiesce or ‹ght. The trend is exactly opposite for adversaries of unequal power, who are more likely to acquiesce or even ‹ght rather than compromise with each other. These ‹ndings point to a number of previously neglected questions about the requirements for effective deterrence. Most important, the prevailing focus on relative capabilities to carry out a threat undeservedly marginalized the issue of equal regional stakes as a more disturbing factor leading to deterrence failure, with war as a likely consequence. These and other issues, carrying signi‹cant theoretical and policy implications, will be discussed more thoroughly in the conclusion. An Expanded Model: Relative Capabilities, Regional and Domestic Stakes To what extent does the addition of domestic costs to the model modify the ‹ndings? Regarding the probability of general deterrence failure escalating into EID crisis (compare tables 7.1 and 7.3), the statistical signi‹cance and direction of correlation for balance of power and regional interests remain the same. Escalation into an extended-immediate deterrence crisis is likely to occur if the Defender has stronger stakes or capabilities than the Challenger. The onset of EID crisis is also more likely if the Defender is democratic, but the pattern is


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reversed when considering the Challenger’s regime type. Before its challenge to the general status quo escalates into a serious dispute against another major power, a nondemocratic Challenger is more likely to back off than a democratic Challenger. Once a general deterrence failure escalates into a major power crisis (that is, EID crisis), table 7.4 indicates that the empirical results for the impact of power and regional salience on deterrence outcomes are virtually the same as those in the simple inherent credibility model (i.e., the one not including domestic stakes). The impact of domestic factors

TABLE 7.3. The Impact of Regional Interests, Relative Power, and Domestic Regime on the Onset of Extended-Immediate Deterrence Variable Constant Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Defender’s Democracy Score Challenger’s Democracy Score Model Chi-Square (df) = 73.058*** (4) Log Likelihood Function = –200.425 N (dyads) = 850

Coefficient

Standard Error

–5.105*** .032*** .025*** .054*** –.067***

.507 .005 .007 .019 .018

*p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

TABLE 7.4. The Expanded Inherent Credibility Model of Deterrence (EID) Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients

Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Defender’s Democracy Score Challenger’s Democracy Score Constant

Defender Acquiesces

Challenger Acquiesces

Compromise

.029* (.023) .068* (.045) –.120 (.115) –.217** (.123) –4.270 * (2.870)

.047** (.021) .148*** (.044) .184** (.098) –.041 (.098) –8.843*** (2.866)

.046** (.022) .095** (.046) .105 (.105) –.019 (.107) –6.647** (2.963)

War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 37.095*** (12) Log Likelihood Function = –66.505 N = 69 (missing capabilities data for 1 case) Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

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becomes less statistically signi‹cant in this combined model than in the model including only the Defender’s and Challenger’s democracy scores (see table 6.2, chap. 6). On the other hand, the results in tables 7.4 and 7.5 show that the domestic regime variable better explains the outcomes other than compromise and war (i.e., it is more suited to explain either side’s peaceful acquiescence). These ‹ndings are easier to interpret from table 7.5, which reports the substantive signi‹cance of the parameters. The predicted probabilities calculated from the model in table 7.4 show that domestic regime type is a particularly useful variable for predicting the side that is likely to acquiesce.2 It is interesting to note that one side in the dispute is likely to acquiesce if it is of a similar regime type to the adversary. The Defender is likely to acquiesce if both powers are nondemocratic and thus their governments are assumed to endure low domestic costs for foreign policy failures. On the other hand, the Challenger is likely to acquiesce if both powers have democratic governments and thus presumably high domestic costs for failures. Unlike the probability of Defender’s acquiescence, the Challenger’s capitulation is also more likely than any other outcome in the mixed dyad when the Defender is a democratic nation. In other words, the Challenger is most likely to yield to the demands of a democratic Defender except when the Challenger has a clear power advantage. These ‹ndings about the impact of regime type on either side’s willingness to acquiesce peacefully are consistent with those presented in tables 6.2 and 6.3. Hence, the addition of other variables to the simple domestic model (chap. 6) does not alter the ‹ndings in this respect. The statistical and substantive signi‹cance of the domestic variable for explaining the probability of compromise or war also remains low as found in the simpler domestic model (compare tables 6.2, 6.3, 7.4, and 7.5). As for the outcomes of compromise and war, the addition of the domestic regime type does not signi‹cantly alter the ‹ndings from the simpler model of inherent credibility. Note in table 7.5 that the probability of war increases if the Defender’s regional interests are symmetric to those of the Challenger for all combinations of power distribution and joint regime types. The probability of war also increases if the power shifts to the Challenger’s favor, and it is especially more likely than any other outcome if a democratic Challenger is confronted by a less democratic Defender. In such situation of mixed regime types, war is also more likely to occur, even under power parity. Finally, there is an interesting relationship between relative power and the probability of compromise: the probability of compromise linearly increases as the

Challenger’s Superiority

Power Parity

Defender’s Superiority


Power Parity



Power Parity



symmetric stronger symmetric stronger symmetric stronger




Defender’s Interests

93.6 92.1 95.9 95.9 93.4 95.2

25.3 21.9 28.6 30.9 16.4 22.3

4.6 3.5 13.8 10.9 27.7 25.0

0.1 0.1 0.4 0.3 0.8 0.7

AcqDef

4.1 5.4 1.1 1.5 0.3 0.4

37.7 43.8 11.1 16.1 1.7 3.0

87.4 88.8 68.7 72.8 35.9 43.5

87.3 88.0 69.9 73.2 33.9 43.4

AcqCh

1.7 2.2 1.1 1.4 0.7 0.9

24.8 27.8 17.6 24.6 0.6 11.2

7.7 7.5 14.5 14.9 18.3 21.4

11.9 11.6 22.9 23.2 26.8 33.2

Compromise

0.6 3.6 1.9 1.1 5.6 3.5

12.3 6.5 42.7 28.4 75.6 63.4

0.3 0.1 2.9 1.4 18.1 10.1

7.1 0.3 6.7 3.2 38.6 22.7

War

Note: (a) democracy = +10, nondemocracy = –10; (b) power superiority = 66.67, power parity = 50.0; (c) Defender’s symmetric interests = 50.0, Defender’s stronger interests = 66.67.

Joint Nondemocracy Defender Nondemocratic, Challenger Nondemocratic

Mixed Defender Nondemocratic, Challenger Democratic

Mixed Defender Democratic, Challenger Nondemocratic


Joint Democracy Defender Democratic, Challenger Democratic

Power Parity

Power Distribution

Predicted Probabilities from the Expanded Inherent Credibility Model (in percentages)

Political Regime Types

TABLE 7.5.

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power shifts from the Defender’s to Challenger’s advantage if the Defender is democratic; it linearly decreases, thus showing the reverse pattern, if the Defender becomes a less democratic state. In short, the inherent credibility model (table 7.2) is very robust for predicting deterrence outcomes, particularly those that yield compromise or end in major confrontations. Roughly equal inherent (regional) stakes of major powers are the raison d’être for wars, while equal power forces them to unilaterally acquiesce or even compromise rather than ‹ght. Domestic regime type does not signi‹cantly alter these ‹ndings in an expanded version of the model, which further strengthens their robustness.

Commitment Model

As discussed extensively in the introduction, deterrence studies have been shaped by traditional concerns over costly signals and other methods of enhancing threat credibility. The preceding ‹ndings show that the prior question of inherent resolve, that is, establishing whether threats are inherently credible in the ‹rst place, needs to be addressed before any manipulative strategies are implemented. If the observable indicators of inherent credibility show strong resolve on part of the deterrer, costly signaling techniques might become costly only for the deterrer, while being quite redundant for deterring the potential attacker. Since superpower nuclear threats are premised on the possibility of mutual assured destruction, their credibility is assumed to be weak. For this reason, research on costly signals, which typically presumes weak credibility, has continued to grow. Schelling, one of the foremost scholars of modern deterrence studies, outlined a new paradigm for deterrence studies when he proposed to solve the problem of nuclear threat credibility through the re‹nement of signaling techniques that manipulate the levels of risk. A number of deterrence studies followed, examining and re‹ning Schelling’s idea of “the art of manipulation” (e.g., Jervis 1970; Powell 1990; Fearon 1997). A major concern for maintaining the reputation for strong resolve comes from the understanding that events are interdependent (Schelling 1966, 55–59). In this view, the interdependence of events takes two forms. First, events are considered to be horizontally (spatially) coupled, implying that the failure to stand ‹rm in one region diminishes the perception of one’s resolve to honor commitments in other regions as well. Another form of interdependence concerns past


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behavior and the reputation for strong resolve over time, representing the vertical (temporal) interdependence of events (for details, see chap. 1). As for the nature of threats, this approach develops an entire range of techniques for signaling strong resolve. The main idea remains, however, that threats need to be costly for the deterrer in order to be an effective deterrent. To what extent do the assumptions and prescriptions of the “commitment” model hold empirically? Before testing their empirical validity, the measures for the model’s essential variables must ‹rst be developed. Measures

Past Behavior. Following Huth (1988, 69), the Defender’s past behavior is analyzed for its most recent past case of attempted extended deterrence. I do not include an alternative measure of the most recent past con›ict between the Defender and the same Challenger since almost half of the cases would entail Russo-American con›icts during the Cold War.3 If the most recent deterrence outcome involving the same Defender resulted in compromise or the Defender’s acquiescence, this variable was coded zero, indicating a Defender less resolute in its most recent deterrence encounter. If the past outcome resulted in war or the Challenger’s acquiescence, the variable was coded one, suggesting a Defender more resolved in its recent behavior. If there was a long period between the Defender’s most recent and current con›icts, i.e., extending beyond 15 years, such historically distant cases of a Defender’s past behavior were not included in the analysis. For example, the U.S. involvement as a Defender against Britain and Germany in the Venezuelan crisis of 1902 was the only case of its involvement in extended-immediate deterrence against another major power before its confrontation against Japan in the Shanghai incident of 1932. It is reasonable to assume that Japan was not drawing lessons from U.S. past behavior in the Venezuelan crisis of thirty years ago. Costly Signals. A straightforward indicator was selected for measuring the Defender’s threats as costly signals. If the highest hostility level for the Defender’s behavior in the crisis stage (before the potential outbreak of war) was costly in terms of delivering the threat, such as troop mobilization or a display of force, the variable was coded one (“a costly signal”). If the Defender’s extended threat was a verbal statement without any costly movement of troops or display of force, the variable was coded zero (“cheap talk”).4 Fearon’s (1997) concept of “sink-cost” signals, for instance, ‹ts this measure (see the discussion in

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chap. 1). As already discussed in the introductory chapter, the notion of costly signals, as analyzed here, does not include behavior that is intended to create domestic or other audience costs that would be paid ex post. The present analysis is focused on the assumption that the interdependence of events makes costly behavior necessary for deterrence to work (e.g., Schelling 1960, 1966). The alternative “tie-hand” strategy of ex post domestic audience costs is not premised on this idea and, consequently, it is not tested here. Empirical Evidence

Tables 7.6 and 7.7 present descriptive statistics and simple cross-tabulations for the key explanatory variables in the commitment version of deterrence theory. A Defender’s past behavior accounts for a large number of cases that result in compromise or the Challenger’s acquiescence (table 7.6). About three-fourths of con›icts that end in compromise or the Challenger’s acquiescence involve a Defender who previously displayed a high degree of resolve. This ‹nding is also consistent with the results of the multinomial analysis reported in table 7.8, which shows that either compromise or the Challenger’s acquiescence is more likely than war if the Defender displayed a strong resolve in its most recent deterrence crisis. Interestingly though, the cross-tabulated ‹ndings reported in table 7.6 also indicate that the impact of this variable is indeterminate for war or Defender’s acquiescence. Table 7.7 reveals some further interesting patterns. If the deterrence outcome is compared to the outcome

TABLE 7.6.

Descriptive Statistics for Past Behavior and Costly Signals Defender’s Past Behavior Resolute?

Current Outcome AcqDef Compromise AcqCh War Total

No

Yes

6 (50.0) 2 (22.2) 6 (26.1) 4 (50.0) 18 (34.6)

6 (50.0) 7 (77.8) 17 (73.9) 4 (50.0) 34 (65.4)

Defender’s Signal: Threat Only?

(100) (100) (100) (100) (100)

Yes

No

9 (75.0) 7 (58.3) 9 (25.7) 4 (36.4) 29 (41.4)

3 (25.0) 5 (41.7) 26 (74.3) 7 (63.6) 41 (58.6)


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of a previous deterrence encounter with the same Defender, then the behavioral consistency in the Defender’s commitment to act resolutely is almost insigni‹cant for the prenuclear age. Among individual major powers, this consistency is apparent only in the case of the United States. Such a trend offers some support for the claim of third-wave deterrence theorists that the preoccupation with interdependent commitments in the temporal sense was almost unique to U.S. policy in the Cold War era (Weinstein 1969; George and Smoke 1974; Betts 1987). TABLE 7.7. A Comparison of the Defender’s Past and Current Behavior Defender’s Past and Current Behavior Both resolute (AcqCh or War) Other Total

Nuclear Power? No 9 (28.1) 23 (71.9) 32 (100.0)

Yes

Defender (Major Power) France China

Russia

UK

11 4 0 2 4 (47.8) (57.1) (0.0) (14.3) (26.7) 12 3 4 12 11 (52.2) (42.9) (100.0) (85.7) (73.3) 23 7 4 14 15 (100.0) (100.0) (100.0) (100.0) (100.0)

U.S.

Total

11 21 (73.3) (38.2) 4 34 (26.7) (61.8) 15 55 (100.0) (100.0)

TABLE 7.8. The Impact of Past Behavior and Costly Signals on Deterrence Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients Defender Acquiesces Defender’s Past Behavior Defender’s Costly Signal Def’s Relative Power (COW) Constant

.877 (1.167) –1.103 (1.091) .063* (.042) –1.974 (2.136)

Challenger Acquiesces 2.625** (1.264) 1.442* (1.109) .114*** (.042) –6.322*** (2.424)

Compromise 2.738** (1.397) –.840 (1.233) .119*** (.049) –6.292** (2.723)

War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 30.792*** (9) Log Likelihood Function = –49.795 N = 51 Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. Since this analysis encompasses the period 1895 to 1985, cases of the Defender’s past behavior occurring prior to 1895 were not included in the data set. Also, as already explained in the body of the text, if there was a period greater than 15 years between the Defender’s previous and current conflicts, the case of its past behavior was not included for lack of reasonable historical proximity. Consequently, the number of observed EID dyads in this model, which uses the past behavior as an independent variable, dropped from 70 to 51. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

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A Defender’s behavior as a costly signal is relevant only for predicting the probability of the Defender’s or the Challenger’s acquiescence. As indicated in table 7.6, about 75 percent of the EID cases that resulted in the Defender’s acquiescence included only the Defender’s verbal threat (cheap talk), whereas almost 75 percent of the EID cases that ended in the Challenger’s acquiescence were cases where the Defender used costly moves (e.g., mobilization, display of force). The results, therefore, provide some support for the argument of commitment theory that less costly threats (cheap talk) are more likely to result in deterrence failure than threats issued as costly signals. On the other hand, about two-thirds of the wars occurred despite a Defender’s costly signal. Since such ‹nding is inconsistent with the preceding argument of commitment theory, it is reasonable to conclude that costly signals are not best deterrents against resolved Challengers. The question of why Challengers are resolved to ‹ght, despite a Defender’s signaling efforts, seems to be more validly explained by the inherent credibility model. Note also that table 7.8 shows that the impact of this variable is statistically insigni‹cant for the choice between most alternatives. An Intraregional Version of Commitment Theory

Although the commitment theory of deterrence does not specify the implications of a Defender’s past behavior in the same region, they are worth exploring, particularly as this issue has been recently suggested in the literature on reputation. Huth (1997, 92) suggests that if “reputations do form, they tend to develop on the basis of the past record of interactions between the same defender and potential attacker within the same geographic region.” His argument is interesting in the context of the present analysis, which highlights the importance of regional salience, but juxtaposes it with the reputational argument. The cited suggestion, however, opens the possibility for a combined effect of these two variables. To explore this possibility, a test was done for cases where the Defender’s most recent deterrence encounters occurred within the same regional area as its current con›icts (see table 7.9). If the cases used to examine the Defender’s most recent deterrence encounters are selected from the same regional area as its current con›icts, then the coef‹cients for the Defender’s past behavior become highly statistically signi‹cant for most pairs of outcomes. In particular, a Challenger is more likely to acquiesce to a Defender with a strong past record of honoring its commitments in the same region of con›ict. Furthermore, table 7.10 indicates that the magnitude of the effect of


159

the Defender’s past behavior within the same region is substantially stronger than the impact of the Defender’s past resolve in general. A change in the Defender’s intraregional past behavior from weak to resolute increases the probability of the Challenger’s acquiescence in the current crisis by 64.8 percent, while the likelihood of compromise and war is decreased by 31.4 and 27.9 percent, respectively. These ‹gures substantially increase the magnitude of the effect of past behavior on deterrence outcomes, producing effects of less than 10 percent if not restricted to behavior within the same region. This ‹nding is certainly

TABLE 7.9. The Model of Intraregional Past Behavior, Multinomial Logit Coefficients Defender Acquiesces


Compromise

3.104** (1.801) .245 (1.532) .100* (.063) –5.621 (3.474)

5.702*** (2.084) 1.916 (1.672) .194*** (.070) –12.502*** (4.206)

2.389** (1.634) 1.193 (1.452) .085** (.058) –4.770** (3.135)

Defender’s Intraregional Past Behavior Defender’s Costly Signal Def’s Relative Power (COW) Constant War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 27.238*** (9) Log Likelihood Function = –26.697 N = 33

Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. Note that this model uses the Defender’s most recent conflict behavior only within the same region as an independent variable. Unavoidably, this resulted in the number of EID dyads appropriate to this model being further reduced to 33. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

TABLE 7.10. Outcomes

Marginal Impact of Past Behavior on the Probability of Deterrence Defender Challenger Acquiesces Acquiesces Compromise War ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

A General Signaling Model (table 7.8) Defender’s Move as a Threat only Defender’s Resolute Past Behavior An Intraregional Signaling Model (table 7.9)a Defender’s Intraregional Resolute Past Behavior

–1.7 0.0

–9.1 –3.5

+11.4 +7.7

–0.6 –4.2

–5.5

+64.8

–31.4

–27.9

aMarginal impact of the Defender’s move is not calculated for the intraregional version of signaling model (table

7.9) since this variable is not statistically significant. The marginal effect of each explanatory variable is calculated by changing its value from zero to one while holding all other variables in the model at their mean (e.g., relative power) or modal value.

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worth further exploration as it again validates the signi‹cance of regional factors for understanding extended deterrence, but it does not necessarily contradict the reputational argument regarding the temporal interdependence of events. Still, the ‹nding does call in question the validity of reputational arguments about the cross-sectional (i.e., cross-regional) interdependence of events, suggesting instead that closer attention should be paid to intraregional issues. As for the issue of the Defender’s use of sink-cost signals, the combined model does not appear to help in any way—the variable is statistically insigni‹cant for all outcomes as alternatives to war.

A Combined Model

Let us now estimate the impact of all variables, those that are key factors in both inherent credibility and commitment models, within a single model. In this way, we can check if the impact of any variable on deterrence outcomes changes once they are all combined in a single model. In addition, by including all variables from the competing theories in a single model, we can once again examine the comparative signi‹cance and magnitude of their effects. In this way, we can verify the robustness of the previously obtained results in this analysis when these competing models were tested separately. It is clear from table 7.11 that two variables—the Defender’s past behavior and the Challenger’s domestic regime—completely lost even the limited statistical signi‹cance they had in separate models (compare the parameter estimates for these two variables in table 7.11 to those in tables 7.4 and 7.8). The remaining variables retained, and some even increased, their statistical signi‹cance. Only relative power and regional salience are statistically signi‹cant for the choices between war and any other outcome. The direction of their correlation is also the same as in the simple inherent credibility model (see Model 1 in table 7.2). The statistical signi‹cance of the Defender’s domestic regime type is largely consistent with the results obtained in the separate models, but the parameter estimates for its behavior in terms of less or more costly behavior show the most interesting changes. Now, this variable becomes statistically signi‹cant, but indicating a direction of correlation opposite to that expected by the sink-cost argument of the commitment model. Negative signs indicate that ex ante costly signals, such as the movement of troops or mobilization, do not deter wars. In fact, if the Defender chooses the strategy of costly deterrent threats, the Defender


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is less likely to acquiesce, compromise is more dif‹cult to reach, and war is more likely to occur. Therefore, at best costly signals do not have a signi‹cant effect on deterrence outcomes, which is the ‹nding obtained from the analysis of the commitment model alone (tables 7.8 and 7.9). At worst, ‹rmness of behavior, manifested through costly moves, is unlikely to convince the Challenger to choose compromise over war as found in the model combining all variables from the competing models (table 7.11). As shown in table 7.12, for example, the probability of compromise decreases by 30.1 percent if the Defender uses more costly signals. On the other hand, with almost equal probability, this kind of behavior may precipitate the desired outcome of the Challenger’s acquiescence, as the probability of such an outcome increases with a shift in the Defender’s behavior from verbal threats to more costly moves. Table 7.6, presenting descriptive statistics for the commitment model variables, is consistent with this ‹nding: 74.3 percent of the Challengers acquiesce if the Defender’s behavior does not include only verbal threats. The probability of Defender’s acquiescence also decreases in this situation (it is

TABLE 7.11. The Full Model of Deterrence (EID) Outcomes, Multinomial Logit Coefficients

Defender’s Relative Regional Interests Defender’s Relative Power (COW) Defender’s Democracy Score Challenger’s Democracy Score Defender’s Past Behavior Defender’s Costly Signal Constant

Defender Acquiesces


Compromise

.155** (.088) .261** (.148) .413 (.359) –.162 (.187) –1.530 (2.176) –5.272** (3.082) –15.464** (8.565)

.173** (.089) .355*** (.153) .847** (.367) .180 (.174) –1.073 (2.278) –2.836 (3.231) –22.948*** (9.036)

.147** (.089) .352** (.155) .784** (.364) .208 (.171) –.925 (2.295) –5.462** (3.281) –20.486** (8.931)

War is the baseline outcome. Model Chi-Square (df) = 55.671*** (18) Log Likelihood Function = –37.356 N = 51 (missing data for 19 cases) Note: Numbers in parentheses are standard errors. *p < .10; **p < .05; ***p < .01 (one-tailed t-tests).

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TABLE 7.12. Marginal Change in the Probability of Deterrence Outcomes (in percentages): Relative Potential of All Variables in Predicting Major Power Conflicts Defender Challenger Acquiesces Acquiesces Compromise War ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ Change in the Ratio of Defender’s to Challenger’s Capabilities: From min to max Change in the Ratio of Defender’s to Challenger’s Regional Interests: From min to max Change in the Defender’s Democracy Score From min (–9) to max (+10) Change in the Challenger’s Democracy Score From min (–9) to max (+10) Change in the Defender’s Move From min (threat) to max (costly signal) Change in the Resolute Past Behavior From min (weak) to max (resolute)

+0.3

+87.9

+11.8

–99.9

+3.2

+91.8

+3.4

–98.5

+0.0

+89.4

+9.7

–99.1

–44.3

+37.9

+11.6

–5.2

–17.6

+54.1

–39.1

+2.7

–3.9

+0.4

+1.7

+1.8

Note: The marginal effect of each explanatory variable is calculated by changing its value while holding the other variables at their mean or modal value.

statistically signi‹cant as shown in table 7.11), which is consistent with the cross-tabulated ‹gures in table 7.6. These ‹ndings are additionally apparent in table 7.12, which shows predicted probabilities of each outcome. It thus enables us once again to compare the substantive signi‹cance of all variables, but this time by including them in a single model. Regional stakes, relative power, and Defender’s domestic costs are shown to have the strongest impact on the probability of war. As the balance of regional interests or power shifts from the Challenger’s to the Defender’s advantage, the probability of war decreases by approximately 99 percent. The same intensity of effect is created by the Defender’s regime type: the probability of war decreases by 99 percent if there is a change from a Defender without democratic institutions to a democratic Defender. As already discussed, ex ante costly behavior (the sink-cost strategy) makes compromise substantially less possible, although it may force the Challenger into acquiescence. In the combined model, the statistical and substantive signi‹cance of the Defender’s past behavior does not seem to have any impact on its opponent in the current con›ict. The magnitude of change in the probability of each deterrence outcome, as past behavior moves from less to more ‹rm, is very low in both the simple commitment model (table 7.10) and the combined one (table 7.12).5

C HAPTER 8

Theoretical and Policy Implications

Before discussing the major implications of this study for deterrence theory and policy, it might be helpful to start with a brief summary of the key issues addressed in previous chapters. The book’s main concern with major power behavior echoes the belief that “the theory, like the story, of international politics is written in terms of the great powers of an era” (Waltz 1979, 72). There is a substantial amount of empirical and theoretical research on major power behavior, but, surprisingly, only a few attempts provide clear conceptual and operational criteria for identifying major powers, most relying on the conventional wisdom of diplomatic histories.1 It was appropriate, therefore, to take on the challenge of specifying the operational requirements for a state to be identi‹ed as a major power (appendix B). These operational speci‹cations then guided a historical reconstruction of which countries quali‹ed as “major powers” or “global contenders,” and during what period, since the end of the nineteenth century (see chap. 2). Furthermore, one of the central questions addressed in this book concerns the con›ictual aspect of major power relations. As discussed in the introduction, the development of research on the causes of wars independent from the strategic studies of deterrence is unwarranted since con›ict avoidance is, for the most part, logically and empirically inseparable from deterrence stability. The question of why and when deterrence is likely to fail is analogous to the question of why some crises escalate to wars while others do not.2 In the analysis of possible explanations for deterrence failure and con›ict escalation between major powers, I have thus merged insights from both research areas. I also raise a number of methodological issues concerning the testability of deterrence theory (see chap. 3). In this respect, my analysis reveals logical ›aws and empirical limitations in the widespread approach to deterrence outcomes in terms of success or failure. Most studies have considered only two outcomes, either success or failure, differentiated mainly by the use of force. To consider deterrence outcomes with greater precision, I introduce four outcomes instead— 163

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Challenger’s acquiescence, Defender’s acquiescence, compromise, war—three of which are all peaceful but entail very different political implications for either side. This expanded view of deterrence outcomes reveals two forms of deterrence failure, one violent and the other peaceful, and it also includes compromise, which allows for a mixture of gains and losses to both sides. This differentiation of four outcomes can therefore uncover patterns that are obscured by a simple dichotomy of deterrence outcomes. Based on these and other conceptual re‹nements of deterrence, as presented in chapter 3, a new data set of deterrence cases for the 1895–1985 period was developed. Brief historical summaries of the cases of extended-immediate deterrence (EID) are provided in appendix A, along with the historical sources consulted for all three types of deterrence cases—general deterrence failures that did not escalate into EID crises, EID crises, and direct deterrence between major powers.

Theoretical Implications for the Study of Deterrence and Conflict

After delineating the key actors and clarifying deterrence phenomenon conceptually and empirically, I presented several factors generally considered essential for understanding foreign con›ict behavior, such as relative power (chap. 4) and domestic regime type (chap. 6). The issue of deterrence credibility, however, has been suggested as central to any such analysis. The presented analysis provides some novel insights in this respect, facilitated by my expansion of the notion of inherent credibility by linking it to the traditional geopolitical concerns of major powers (chap. 5). In a nutshell, unlike other states, whose national security primarily rests on rather limited goals of self-defense or subregional security, major powers’ security concerns are much more expansive, reaching beyond their borders and immediate surroundings. Major power relations are largely shaped by their involvement regarding third nations, geographically either distant or close, that is, in situations known as extended deterrence. I argue that regional stakes are a major source of inherent credibility for this type of deterrence. Although regional stakes have been ignored in deterrence studies, this study shows that they are powerful predictors of major power behavior. Moreover, they provide a better means for explaining the onset and outcomes of deterrence than does the examination of other individual factors such as rel-


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ative power or costly signaling strategies. The results of the empirical tests conducted here strongly support this argument, demonstrating that extended-immediate deterrence is likely to be attempted by a major power with strong interests in the region of con›ict. A deterrer with strong regional stakes is also less likely to acquiesce to another power’s demands, while war is more likely to result if both sides have equally strong and competing interests in the Protégé’s region. The latter ‹nding is consistent with the conventional wisdom of historical and geopolitical literature on the precarious role of gray areas in major power relations (for more details, see Cohen 1973). The empirical evidence supporting the pivotal role of geopolitics and regional stakes for understanding the dynamics of major power behavior is quite robust. The results are almost identical in their high statistical and substantive signi‹cance both when the regional salience variable is examined individually (chap. 5) and when it is included with other factors in combined models (chap. 7). The regional interests of major powers are an observable category, and if (as is argued here) these interests are indicative of the inherent credibility of extended deterrence threats, then the ‹ndings about their importance for predicting both the onset and outcomes of extendedimmediate deterrence between major powers have several theoretical and policy implications. Power Capability

Under the in›uence of realism, the impact of power on world politics has become one of the hallmarks of international relations research and of con›ict theories in particular. Almost parallel to this trend in the scholarly literature, the advent of nuclear weapons placed the issue of adequate levels and type of military capabilities at the core of strategic studies concerned primarily with the precarious nature of deterrence between nuclear superpowers. The ‹ndings presented in chapter 4, however, challenge the validity of an exclusive focus on power relations to explain international con›icts and deterrence. Regardless of the power measure employed (i.e., COW Index of National Capabilities or GDP), the ‹ndings about the impact of relative power on deterrence outcomes are fairly intuitive and signi‹cant only for less complicated situations. The single conclusion we can draw from examining the power factor alone is that a weaker Challenger is likely to acquiesce to the demands of a more powerful Defender—hardly a novel theoretical insight.

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Even when combined with other factors, such as regional salience or domestic regime type (see chap. 7), it is dif‹cult to establish whether power balance or preponderance provides a more stable condition. The results indicate that, unlike the situation of equal regional stakes between two sides, power parity situations are more likely to lead to a compromise than to war. Still, the coef‹cients are not statistically signi‹cant at the conventionally acceptable levels for the odds between the probability of war and the likelihood of either side’s acquiescence under the same power parity conditions (see Model 2 in table 7.2). This means that the results for the impact of power balances on the probability of war as a violent form of deterrence failure are at best inconclusive. It all depends on whether the alternative choice to war is a peaceful unilateral concession or a compromise. Interestingly, the ‹ndings provide some new insights into the correlation between balance of power or balance of interests on the one hand, and deterrence outcomes, on the other hand. For instance, as already mentioned, the results are not consistent with the power shift argument that wars are likely to result from an uncertainty of power parity (see discussion in chap. 4). On the other hand, if power balancing is reinterpreted in terms of the in›uence of major powers in world regions (Morgenthau 1948) rather than in terms of sheer size of national capabilities, then the equal presence or in›uence of competing major powers in the same region can lead to major clashes. In other words, it is important to differentiate between balance of power and balance of interests, as they can have reverse effects on deterrence outcomes. In this context, my results do not support the argument advanced in the literature (Betts 1987, 20 et seq.) that balance of power is a stronger predictor of reactions to threats (i.e., EID outcomes), while the balance-of-interest approach is more valid for predicting the decision to issue threats. This analysis instead indicates that regional interests are important factors for predicting both the onset and outcomes of deterrence. Credibility and Resolve

If the capability requirement of deterrence is not suf‹cient to explain con›ict dynamics, then theoretical focus needs to be shifted toward a better understanding of the second essential requirement for deterrent threats, that is, their credibility. In particular, what constitutes the credibility of a threat? Under what conditions do credible threats deter attacks and prevent wars? Does the threat credibility provide a more


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effective deterrent than the capability to carry out threats? Or, if some combination of both requirements provides a more robust deterrent effect, what constitutes such a combination? Before answering the last question, which will be more thoroughly addressed in the concluding discussion of main policy implications, the other questions will be ‹rst addressed in the context of three alternative factors regarding the credibility issue: (1) domestic constraints or opportunities, or alternatively, the domestic costs for failing to stand ‹rm abroad, (2) international reputation for strong resolve, which is the focal point of the in›uential commitment theory, and (3) intrinsic interests in the issue at stake, generally identi‹ed with the notion of inherent credibility, and de‹ned here in terms of the regional stakes in the context of major power relations. Resolve and Domestic Costs It is an old idea to consider the credibility of external threats as a function of domestic constraints or, alternatively, of domestic costs for foreign policy failures (e.g., Kaufmann 1956). But it is only recently that this idea has received closer scholarly attention, handled with more rigor and subject to both formal-theoretic and empirical analyses. The magnitude of domestic constraints or costs has usually been considered as a function of a nation’s domestic regime type. Democratic governments are assumed to be more constrained than their authoritarian counterparts in making foreign policy decisions, particularly those that involve the use of force. It has been further suggested that the domestic costs for major foreign policy failures are higher in democratic than nondemocratic regimes, as domestic audiences in democracies have greater leverage to punish their leaders for policy failures. Whether the impact of the domestic regime variable on deterrence is examined separately or in combination with other factors (see chaps. 6 and 7), the ‹ndings in this study are almost identical. The domestic factor is particularly relevant for explaining the dynamics of deterrence between similar regimes, where unilateral peaceful acquiescence to the other side’s demands is a likely outcome. This variable is, however, less helpful in understanding the dynamics of behavior between dissimilar regimes such as that between the United States and USSR during the Cold War period. Its explanatory range is also limited in terms of types of outcomes, better explaining the probability of either side’s peaceful acquiescence than the likelihood of compromise or war. There are two important patterns, however, that validate theoretical expectations about threat credibility as a function of domestic

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costs. First, democratic Defenders are less likely to back down once an EID crisis has started, regardless of the Challenger’s regime type. Second, there was not a single case of war between democratic states in this analysis. Since war is less likely between authoritarian states as well, and given the high signi‹cance of the domestic variable for explaining the behavior between similar regimes, these ‹ndings point to the need for further research on the impact of political similarity, regardless of regime type, on foreign behavior. As for the evidence showing the low probability of democratic Defenders backing down, it appears that threat credibility can be considered to be a function of domestic audience costs but only if these costs are expected to be high. The puzzle remains why a deterrer with low domestic audience costs (i.e., a nondemocratic Defender) is also unwilling to yield to the opponent under certain circumstances (e.g., if it faces a democratic Challenger). In its current stage, domestic audience costs theory does not yet provide a clue to solving this puzzle. Reputational or Intrinsic Interests? Besides the recently revived interest in the linkage between foreign threat credibility and domestic audience costs, strategic studies have been mostly centered on two main approaches to the issue of credibility and resolve: commitment theory and the theory of inherent credibility. Which approach proves to be more valid? According to the presented empirical ‹ndings, inherent credibility is the key to understanding deterrence, which leads us to the next, most critical, conclusion. One of the most important ‹ndings of this study is that the insuf‹cient attention paid to less manipulable factors, such as the intrinsic interests upon which credibility depends, is unjusti‹ed. My analysis substantiates the importance of intrinsic interests for understanding the dynamics of deterrence as advocated by third-wave deterrence theorists (Maxwell 1968; Jervis 1970; George and Smoke 1974; Snyder and Diesing 1977) and subsequently suggested in the empirical research of issues at stake (Huth 1988, 1994; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990). This book demonstrates that, if these interests or issues at stake are interpreted in terms of the ties between a major power and the Protégé’s region, their effects on deterrence attempts and outcomes are very strong. In this respect, the ‹ndings are largely, though not entirely, consistent with previous results about the effects of individual ties between a Defender and its Protégé on deterrence outcomes.3 At the least, the evidence for regional salience in deterrence relations


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clearly supports the general argument from quantitative deterrence literature, holding that the issues at stake matter (Huth and Russett 1984). On the other hand, this empirical analysis does not generally support an alternative argument that considers credibility to be a function of an effective signaling of strong resolve. As presented in the introduction, this argument is based on the idea of interdependent commitments (events viewed as tightly coupled spatially and across time). In fact, the ‹ndings here support only a restricted version of the commitment theory. In general, the consistency of resolute responses over time is not con‹rmed for the behavior of most major powers, and certainly not during the prenuclear age. Still, a Defender’s past behavior is likely to in›uence a Challenger’s decision whether to acquiesce or compromise. Furthermore, it is a signi‹cant predictor of deterrence outcomes if the Defender’s resolve is inferred only from its past behavior in the same region. Therefore, the overall ‹ndings are mixed and certainly point to the need for future re‹nements that would restrict the notion of interdependent commitments to intra-regional affairs. As for the deterrer’s behavior as a costly signal or cheap talk, the analysis shows that this variable does not account for the probability of most deterrence outcomes and certainly cannot predict escalation to war. This result is consistent with the prediction of a formal-theoretic re‹nement of deterrence analysis that “demonstrates that in core areas where both players have inherently credible threats, increasing the costs of con›ict past a certain point does little to enhance deterrence stability” (Zagare 1990, 259). It also lends justi‹cation to the policy prescriptions of third-wave deterrence studies, mostly employing the inductive approach of comparative case studies. “Instead of . . . emphasizing the critical importance of credibility and signaling to deterrence strategy, theorists would do better to caution that sophisticated opponents will judge credibility on the basis of a more fundamental analysis of the defender’s interests” (George and Smoke 1974, 560). Despite methodological differences, my quantitative analysis con‹rms and further re‹nes these conclusions. It is worth remembering that the theoretical focus on reputation and costly signals originated from concerns about the irrationality of nuclear threats. The advent of nuclear weapons made the willingness to carry out such threats questionable, as it is dif‹cult to envision anyone being willing to accept nuclear annihilation even for the sake of preventing an attack on an ally. The value of any target, save for one’s own home territory, can hardly be worth a nuclear exchange. Yet, from

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the U.S. strategic viewpoint, the Soviets had to believe that the United States was prepared to launch a nuclear attack for the sake of protecting West Berlin, or any other ally for that matter. In the superpower context of the nuclear dilemma, a target’s inherent value to a deterrer’s national interests was not at issue since the Soviets had the secondstrike capability to retaliate with the same degree of annihilation. For this reason, estimates of a target’s value to a deterrer’s national interests were replaced by the issue of convincing a potential aggressor of the real possibility of mutual annihilation, despite its irrationality. “We are back again at the commitment. How can one commit himself in advance to an act that he would in fact prefer not to carry out in the event, in order that his commitment may deter the other party? . . . One may try to stake his reputation on ful‹lment, in a manner that impresses the threatened person” (Schelling 1960, 36). As a result, a state’s reputation for resolve itself became the interest at stake, ultimately leading to an apolitical approach to deterrence (see also Maxwell 1968, 18–19; George and Smoke 1974, 556; Morgan 1985, 130). As George and Smoke observed, this view “has given the theory . . . a somewhat narrow, mechanistic, and technical character” (1974, 65). Moreover, if not placed in the right context, the consideration of deterrence as simply a manipulative strategy led to the effective signaling of strong resolve itself becoming the interest at stake (George and Smoke 1974; Morgan 1985). Consequently, insuf‹cient attention was given to the less manipulable factors, such as intrinsic interests upon which credibility depends. On the other hand, as Jervis noted, “the bulk of major international actions are nonmanipulable indices since they involve actions inextricably linked to the pursuit of important goals. . . . actors have only limited leeway to project images on the cheap” (1970, 65). Commitment theory tends to neglect the initial value that the Challenger attaches to action, or restraint from action, irrespective of the deterrer’s signals of its intention. It also neglects the relevance of the value that the deterrer inherently holds toward the issue at stake. Simply put, “the technique is no substitute for having the national interest at stake” (Morgan 1985, 130). Since both the Challenger’s and Defender’s inherent stakes are the key ingredients of their vital national interests, they should be brought back into deterrence studies. I address this problem by identifying what constitutes the national interests of major powers, apart from the protection of homeland territory. These factors are essentially identical to so-called intrinsic interests or inherent credibility of threats that set limits to the believability


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of costly signals. In the 1970s, third-wave deterrence theorists pointed to the need to separate reputational from intrinsic interests. In the 1980s, quantitative deterrence studies approached this notion in terms of the individual ties between a deterrer and its protégé in extended deterrence. Likewise, the puzzle of whether the in›uence of international reputation for strong resolve outweighs that of intrinsic interests in the issue of dispute was subject to formal stylizations. Nevertheless, commitment theory, concerned primarily with reputational rather than intrinsic interests (including its policy version in the form of the “domino theory”), continued to be paradigmatic for both theory and policy of deterrence. It was apparent that both scholars and policymakers were not yet paying suf‹cient attention to the relevance of intrinsic national interests in extended deterrence. Thus, at the beginning of the 1990s, it was pointed out that it appears that the domino theory exaggerates the role of reputational interests in determining the outcomes of confrontations . . . and commensurately underestimates the importance of intrinsic interests. This topic is large and dif‹cult; only tentative conclusions are possible. Quantitative studies tap these dimensions only approximately and have yielded ambiguous results. (Jervis 1991, 42) The purpose of this book was to address these research problems by conceptually identifying national interests with the inherent credibility of threats, de‹ning their essential aspects in major power extended deterrence in terms of the geopolitics of regional stakes, and providing robust ‹ndings about their strong impact on major power behavior. It remains to evaluate these research advances in the context of their policy implications for the post–Cold War international setting.

Policy Implications for the Post–Cold War Era

Continuing major power involvement in regional con›icts in the post–Cold War age further justi‹es the attempt to better understand what constitutes their vital national interests in different parts of the world. The recurrent threats and subsequent direct military interventions of U.S. and NATO troops in the Balkan wars put the refreshingly cooperative U.S.-Russian relationship on a temporary hold, while U.S.-Chinese tensions over Taiwan and North Korea have not abated,

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despite the end of the Cold War. To what extent did these post–Cold War superpower tensions result from clashing interests over issues vital to both sides? Alternatively, to what extent did they result from one or the other side’s concern with its own reputation for toughness in areas of lesser importance in order to deter similar developments in areas of vital interests? To what extent are current policies the residual of the Cold War concern with domino effects, and how much are they still based on the logic of nuclear deterrence that retaliation is irrational and thus credibility is weak? These are questions that still require clear answers from both strategic thinkers and practitioners if the continuing tensions between major powers are to become at least manageable or, if at all possible, avoidable. Still Dominoes? Reputational Interests and “Threat Inflation”

Critics who characterize the 1990s as the decade of interventionism point to the continuation of policy driven by the domino metaphor leading to “threat exaggeration”4 as well to the ad hoc or “case-bycaseism” policy (Haas 1995) caused by the absence of a well-developed grand strategy for the post–Cold War world. The U.S. foreign policy record in the immediate decade after the Cold War seems to suggest that conceptual and strategic residuals from the Cold War era remain, seen in the prevailing concern with reputational interests based on the idea of interdependent commitments and “falling dominoes.”5 As this concern is also at the core of commitment theory in strategic studies, it appears that the importance of inherent credibility is still overshadowed by other considerations, particularly those related to developing a reputation for strong resolve. Traditional Cold War policy aimed at maintaining a reputation for standing ‹rm can be interpreted as having in›uenced U.S. decisions in a number of post–Cold War crises, including the military interventions in the post–Persian Gulf Iraq, Somalia, Haiti, and the former Yugoslavia. The of‹cial rationale for the intervention in Haiti, giving importance to sending strong signals to other parts of the world about strong U.S. resolve, was already cited in the introductory chapter. The military interventions in the former Yugoslavia are frequently interpreted (e.g., Art 1998/99, 108–9) and of‹cially acknowledged (e.g., Holbrooke 1998) to re›ect, at least in part, the Clinton administration’s concern about NATO’s credibility. Even the U.S. show of force


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in the 1996 Taiwanese crisis was reportedly interpreted as bluff, designed only to demonstrate its strong resolve to the world (Blechman and Wittes 1999, 24; see also Layne 1997, 108). The bombing of Iraq in December 1998 was justi‹ed on similar grounds: “The U.N.’s credibility is on the line, and I think U.S. credibility as well.”6 However, as critics point out, “crises are usually discrete happenings—not tightly linked events” (Layne and Schwarz 1993, 16). It is unconvincing, for example, to argue that leaders in the Balkans were deterred by U.S. intervention in Haiti, or that the Haitian government was learning “lessons” from a series of U.S.-Chinese crises of mutual probing of each other’s resolve over Taiwan. Furthermore, states are likely to separate their rival’s peripheral and vital interests. In his comparative historical study of Soviet reactions in some key Cold War crises, Hopf (1991b, 146) concludes that “American policymakers have grossly exaggerated the effects on Soviet thinking of American defeats in the periphery, and hence greatly overestimated the stakes involved in any con›ict.” Despite major structural changes in which the zero-sum aspect of Cold War bipolarity has abated, critics point to the continuation of “America’s ‹xation with credibility” (McMahon 1991, 456). Once again, as was the case with Soviet reactions, states do not seem to draw inferences about each other’s resolve from resolute behavior on low-stakes issues. Thus, one of the major conclusions from the analysis of U.S. policy in the post–Cold War era astoundingly resembles Hopf’s remarks about U.S. misconceptions concerning Soviet inferences: “When the United States fails to intervene in peripheral areas, others will not draw adverse inferences about its willingness to defend vital, core interests” (Layne 1997, 115). Nonetheless, the Munich analogy and domino theory—policy metaphors for the idea that events are interdependent and consequently require displays of strong commitment to act, even in peripheral areas, in order to contain instabilities in central areas—were often invoked to justify post–Cold War interventions.7 If of‹cial foreign policy visions are seen through domino metaphor lenses, frequent interventions are likely to ensue. “The post–Cold War domino theory, like the Cold War domino theory, will doom America to a string of military interventions in strategically peripheral regions” (Layne and Schwarz 1993, 17). The resulting criticism of such “uninhibited interventionism” largely re›ected concerns about military overstretch in areas of dubious interests for U.S. national security. If these areas are categorized into a hierarchy of threats, descending from “A” to “C” lists in

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their gravity, it has become “striking,” according to the critics, “how the ‘C list’ has come to dominate today’s foreign policy agenda” (Nye 1999, 27). Instead of the predominant focus on reputation and credibility for its own sake, this literature suggests the need for a “grand strategy” based on “selective engagements.” This alternative view puts forth the notion that national interests should be at the core of any potential intervention, thus corresponding closely to the notions of inherent credibility and intrinsic interests found in deterrence studies. The Need for a Grand Strategy

Formulating a grand strategy involves several steps. According to Posen and Ross (1997, 100) and Layne (1997, 88), a grand strategy speci‹es vital national security interests, the threats to those interests, and the appropriate means to meet them. Art (1998/99, 79) speci‹es the process of formulating a grand strategy by identifying two major decisions: selecting basic goals, which consists of identifying a state’s national interests, and choosing appropriate means, particularly military power, to protect these interests. Based on different answers to these questions, scholars have developed several models of possible grand strategies for the post–Cold War context. Posen and Ross (1997), for instance, identify ‹ve paradigms, each competing for selection as a new U.S. grand strategy: neoisolationism, selective engagement, collective security, containment, and primacy. Haas (1995) reviews ‹ve general views of U.S. priorities in the post–Cold War world: Wilsonianism, economism, realism, humanitarianism, and minimalism. Art (1998/99) compares the strategy of selective engagement to six alternative grand strategies: dominion, global collective security, regional collective security, cooperative security, containment, and isolationism. Extracting the most essential elements in these different classi‹cations generates four major options: (1) the strategy of global preponderance advocating U.S. leadership in the system (though there are wide variations within this paradigm in interpreting major global threats and the means to meet them); (2) the strategy of collective security advocating, among the other elements of liberalism upon which it is based, multilateralism and actions through international institutions; (3) neoisolationism, proposing, at best, only minimal use of force abroad; (4) the strategy of selective engagements, a new model for U.S. foreign policy that restricts U.S. globalism to those regional areas or issues that bear vital importance for its national interests.8


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A Geopolitical Version of the Selective Engagement Strategy

This study clearly suggests the grand strategy of “selective engagements” as the most appropriate option for post–Cold War policy. First, the national interests of major powers transcend their borders, and I view them accordingly in terms of the stakes that these states have in different parts of the world. Hence, the vital national interests of major powers, consisting of homeland security and the protection of interests in critical regions, are the ‹rst issue that needs to be clari‹ed in formulating any grand strategy. Note that regional salience is interpreted in this analysis exclusively in terms of tangible elements, such as the ties developed between a major power and regional states through alliances and trade. This approach may thus be viewed as a “hard” version of the strategy of selective engagements since it omits intangibles, such as the protection of human rights and the spread of democracy, from issues deserving U.S. exercise of military deterrence and eventual use of force.9 While humanitarian crises might in some cases necessitate military interventions, they are in themselves qualitatively different from the type of military crises explored in this book. As such, they arguably require very different criteria for intervention. Moreover, despite the strong sense of moral reasons for humanitarian interventions, unless indiscriminately applied, these interventions risk the charge of “double standards” (e.g., see Johnson 1994, 234) or the essential immorality of “selective humanitarianism.” As an illustration, though the human toll was much more tragic in Angola or Sudan, calls to “do something” were negligible, and the force was instead used in other cases such as Bosnia or Haiti. Hence, there are two basic problems with a “soft” version of the strategy of selective engagements that includes humanitarian issues among vital national interests, worthy of military interventions. First, since selectivity of military involvements is an essential aspect of this strategy, it has to provide a “clear strategic guide to which interventions are worth doing and which not” (Posen and Ross 1997, 109). It requires, therefore, at least some tangible strategic reason for the use of force, which, in turn, makes it ultimately indistinguishable from the “hard” version of this strategy. Otherwise, it runs the risk of arbitrariness or double standards. Second, interventions on purely humanitarian grounds require moral consistency across all cases; otherwise their moral credibility is undermined. In other words, a policy that includes

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humanitarian issues among vital national interests and thus considers them as worthy of the use of force must be universalist, not selective. The major problem of any universalist strategy, however, whether it is in the form of realpolitik global containment or liberal Wilsonianism, consists of “commitment creep”—the exact problem that the strategy of selective engagement is supposed to avoid. This does not mean that the humanitarian problems—such as the tragedy of ethnic and other wars, famine, and violations of human rights—need to be ignored. Rather, the question is whether they should provide a criterion for the use of force. It is in the essence of the strategy of selective engagement to suggest that nonmilitary means need be fully exploited to address the important moral questions that humanitarian disasters raise. If the use of force is chosen as an acceptable means to combat such problems, and if the moralism is genuine, hence requiring consistency in all cases, then this strategy would transform into its opposite—“indiscriminate globalism.” Since humanitarian issues were not examined in this study, policy implications can only be drawn from the presented analysis that con‹nes national interests to tangibles. To be precise, this book identi‹es the magnitude of regional stakes as a strategic guide for exercising military deterrent policy or even, if necessary, actual use of force. The ‹ndings suggest the necessity of distinguishing several types of regions: (1) an area of competing interests; (2) an area of unilateral predominance; and (3) an area of low stakes for either side. The most precarious situations arise in the areas where at least one other power has strong stakes. My ‹ndings show an exceptionally high probability of war only if two or more major powers have equally strong stakes in the same region (see table 5.5). The probability of war somewhat decreases in the situations of con›icting regional interests only if the Challenger is a democratic and stronger power (see table 7.5). The likelihood of serious militarized escalation still remains relatively high, raising the question of how such historical trends can be reversed and con›icts in the areas of competing interests prevented. The recently suggested “Bismarckian” model for U.S. grand strategy seems to provide a reasonably acceptable option. It propounds that “the key issue for the United States is not balancing against rivals real or latent but bandwagoning with them . . . to keep them from ‘balancing’ and ultimately coalescing against the United States” (Joffe 1995, 110, 113). In the contemporary context, Europe and East Asia ‹t this description of a situation where more than one major power has strong


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regional stakes.10 The proponents of discriminate internationalism (i.e., “selective engagements”) consider either Russia or Germany or both as major powers that could challenge U.S. primacy in European affairs. In East Asia, another area where U.S. national interests continue to be strong, China and Japan are regarded as potential or actual rivals to U.S. interests.11 Since neither of these powers, with some exception for China, poses a serious security threat to the United States, a grand strategy for such contending regions based on the Bismarckian bandwagoning model becomes even more feasible. However, in a case with only two major contenders in an area of potential con›ict, the potentially zero-sum nature of bipolarity would require different strategies for con›ict avoidance. One possibility for avoiding serious military con›icts is to acknowledge a rival’s legitimate role in regional affairs, while demanding a reciprocal response. This policy is, of course, predicated on a state’s preference for compromise over war. My research ‹ndings indicate that, if war does not occur, then the Defender’s acquiescence is ten times more likely than either of the other two peaceful outcomes—Challenger’s acquiescence or compromise. Therefore, if a Defender prefers peace over war, it is essential to avoid the failure of general deterrence in the area through attempts of positive inducements and achieve at least an exchange of concessions, thus dissuading the other power from challenging the status quo. If the regional area is of primary concern only to the Challenger, then it is unlikely that the Challenger’s use of force in the region would trigger military reactions by other powers, although this ‹nding was not signi‹cant at conventionally accepted levels (table 5.3). Even if another power therefore decides to react, as a protector of the third nation, in such a con›ict involving only the Challenger’s vital national interests, it is likely to quickly back down. This suggests that it is better for a potential Defender to stay away from areas if its interests are only peripheral, whereas at least another power has strong stakes. Even if deterrence is exercised by the Defender, say for the sake of “saving face” as in the globalist scenario of interdependent commitments, it is likely to fail, thus ultimately eroding the Defender’s prestige and exactly reversing the desired effects. In regions of the Defender’s predominance, such as the Western Hemisphere or Middle East for the U.S. position after the Cold War, challenge by another power is very unlikely (table 5.3). Military interventions by the Defender in regional disputes, designed only to send signals elsewhere and essentially contain other major powers from encroaching on its area of in›uence, are thus almost entirely

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super›uous and unnecessarily costly. This does not mean that a challenge cannot occur. Though an unlikely scenario, if it nevertheless occurs, the outcome is likely to depend on each side’s domestic costs for backing down. The Defender’s acquiescence is the least likely outcome if the regional stakes are examined apart from other factors (table 5.5). However, if the interplay between domestic and international factors is taken into account, then the Defender’s acquiescence becomes highly probable if both powers are not democracies, that is, their government’s domestic costs are lower for their failures in foreign con›icts. This pattern certainly warrants further theoretical research, as it hardly ‹ts any current theoretical expectations, although it does not have a signi‹cant bearing for the United States or any other democratic power’s foreign policy.12 The question of what to do in peripheral areas where neither power has strong stakes is not thoroughly examined in the literature and was only tangentially covered in this analysis. My results suggest that a major power crisis in such a region, if it arises at all, would lead to a compromise or the Challenger’s acquiescence. In order to better see how the key aspects of each variable might have an interactive effect on deterrence outcomes, the symmetry of low stakes (the situation of lesser importance for the probability of major power con›ict) was not examined within any combined models (chap. 7). Only one ‹rm conclusion can therefore be inferred: that the United States should not initiate interventions in the major power periphery for reputational reasons. Such action can be perceived as an offensive strategy of extension and expansion of in›uence, which can, in turn, trigger responses by other powers. This ‹nding provides some additional insights to the existing, albeit scarce, literature on the dynamics of con›ict in areas of peripheral interest to either power. The prescriptions advanced by the selective engagement proponents, for example, range from multilateralism to doing nothing (Art 1990/91, 49–50), or even skepticism regarding the ability of this strategy to provide proper guidance for action in the Third World and other areas of low stakes for either power (Johnson 1994, 149; Posen and Ross 1997, 110). While there is nothing intrinsic to the strategy itself to make it un‹t for explaining major power behavior in areas of mutually low stakes, it requires further conceptual and theoretical re‹nements to explain patterns such as those found in this research. The advantage of a selective engagement strategy based on regional stakes over its major alternative, the preponderance or primacy paradigm, is at least twofold. First, currently from the U.S.


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angle, “those who possess the weights (China, Japan, Russia, Europe) are not really challengers, whereas those who are challengers (e.g., Iraq, Iran) do not have the weight” (Joffe 1995, 116). While proponents of a U.S. global primacy strategy would undoubtedly disagree with this interpretation of world trends, it is nevertheless obvious that the United States ‹nds itself more at odds with those who aspire to regional hegemony than it does with the states reaching for a position of global hegemony. The regional challengers may well be minor powers, as indicated in the preceding citation, but, at some future point, any major power can also contest U.S. in›uence in particular regions. However, the key aspect here is not who is likely to become a challenger, but the fact that these challenges are limited to regional rather than global levels. As an illustration, even if some proponents of primacy are correct in predicting that China has the greatest potential to become a major challenger to U.S. international standing (e.g., Khalizad 1995)—a prediction on which not even all proponents of this strategy agree13—this challenge is unlikely to occur at the global level, but rather take place in regions of vital interest to China (such as Far East, South Asia, and Southeast Asia). In other words, the fact that China, Japan, Germany, or Russia may become a potential challenger does not require U.S. global involvement, as these threats are likely to be con‹ned to speci‹c regions, those (if any) of vital interest to the challenger. A policy that is based on keeping global commitments strong in order to deter regional challenges is simply unnecessarily costly. This brings up the second advantage of the geopolitical version of selective engagements over the global primacy argument—it requires less resources to defend and promote U.S. national interests. That is, not only is it a less expensive strategy than that requiring indiscriminate globalism, but it also provides more robust guidance for strategic decisions related to peace and war. The concern with power relations and signaling techniques of strong commitments has dominated both the theory and policy of deterrence. The focus on these two factors has come at the expense of understanding the inherent issues at stake, particularly those related to regional interests. It can potentially obscure, therefore, the important question of what constitutes vital national interests in extended deterrence. As shown in this analysis, it is better for the question of national interests to be clari‹ed, rather than to have misleading signals sent to the other side. My empirical test has shown that the power factor alone is insuf‹cient to explain the dynamics of deterrence and con›ict behav-

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ior. Also, preoccupation with a reputation for standing ‹rm—before making a thorough evaluation of what is at stake—does not generally constitute an adequate response to the precarious nature of major power deterrence. Moreover, it could even have the opposite effect, inadvertently prompting escalatory behavior. If statesmen believe they need to act for the sake of action, then there is a heightened tendency toward a self-ful‹lling prophecy (e.g., Jervis 1991, 25; Johnson 1994, 143). Standing ‹rm, regardless of one’s actual interests at stake, can back‹re, prompting an opponent to trigger the cycle of escalation. Once begun, this process can lead both sides to con›ict over an issue that perhaps was not inherently vital to the deterrer in the ‹rst place. In terms of policy implications for U.S. post–Cold War diplomacy, the analysis indicates that crisis management of particular foreign policy issues needs to be conducted within the framework of a grand strategy of selective engagement. The empirical evidence presented in this book suggests that this kind of strategy would require, among other things, the differentiation of national interests across regions, thus adjusting the Cold War policy of “unrestricted globalism” to regional realities.

Appendixes

APPENDIX A

Case Summaries and Sources

In appendix A, all cases of extended-immediate deterrence between major powers are summarized for the period 1895–1985 (for their summary listing, see table 3.2). The headings for each case include the year(s) of its commencement and termination and the names under which these cases are most commonly referred to in the historical literature. Brief narrative summaries document all actions that are relevant for this study, that is, those that indicate military acts as operationalized in chapter 3. Each case summary is completed with the bibliographic references for the consulted sources. For those surveys that provide case summaries, such as Brecher and Wilkenfeld (1997), the numbers (#) refer to the case numbers rather than to the relevant pages. Sources used for the case summaries are listed at the end of the references. The second section of this appendix identi‹es all other cases of general deterrence failure that did not escalate into immediate deterrence between major powers. The summary for each case includes the starting and ending years of its occurrence, its conventional historical name, major actors and outcome (also listed in table 3.1), and the bibliographic information used in its analysis from the relevant historical literature. The third section presents the cases of direct-immediate deterrence failure (see also table 3.3) between major powers, and the same information format is used as in the second section.

1. Extended-Immediate Deterrence Cases (Summaries and Sources) 1895–96 South African Crisis (Delagoa Bay and Jameson Raids)

The Transvaal (Boer Republic), Cape Colony, and Rhodesia were viewed as parts of the British Empire and as such were not allowed to 183

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have independent foreign relations with other powers, although England did not interfere in their internal affairs. President Kruger of Transvaal, however, resisted British in›uence and encouraged close relations with Germany. In 1895, he ‹nished the construction of the Delagoa Bay Railway and, by imposing high tariffs, made transportation from Cape Colony dif‹cult and expensive. In June 1895, two German warships were dispatched to Delagoa Bay as a demonstration of support for Kruger’s actions. When shippers from the Cape began to use the drifts (the fording-places) in order to avoid the high railway rates, Kruger retaliated by closing the drifts. After the British government had protested vigorously, ordering troops to South Africa, Kruger yielded to an ultimatum and the drifts were reopened (November 3). Soon another crisis emerged. Dr. Jameson, an administrator in the Chartered Company, launched raids in Transvaal. On December 29, 1895, his forces crossed the frontier, but they were quickly defeated by the Transvaal forces on January 2, 1896. The British government had no prior knowledge of the Jameson Raid and later condemned the entire operation. Nevertheless, on January 2 the Kaiser sent a telegram to Kruger (the “Kruger telegram”) with congratulations and assurances of German support for the independence of Transvaal. Moreover, Germany of‹cially suggested an international conference to regulate the status of Transvaal, thus challenging the British claim to Transvaal as a part of the British Commonwealth. The German government also ordered troops to proceed to Delagoa Bay, but the Portuguese government refused to allow them to land in Portuguese West Africa (Angola). England sent a squadron to Delagoa Bay and a torpedo-›otilla to the Channel, while Russia and France refused to support the German action. Very soon Germany backed down. On February 13, in his Reichstag speech, German Chancellor Marschall announced that Germany had no wish to interfere in Transvaal, although he reiterated that South African uni‹cation would damage German economic interests. Several excuses and explanations were communicated to the British government as well. Source: Langer 1951, 226–47; James 1976, 177–83, Grenville 1964, 98–107; Seton-Watson 1937, 575–79; Townsend 1966, 84–85; Brandenburg 1933, 80–89; Taylor 1954, 362–66. 1897 Kiao-Chow (German Occupation)

By the end of 1895 Germany decided to claim rights to the Chinese port of Kiao-Chow, although the port was apparently leased to the

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Russians. In the summer of 1896, a German squadron was sent to Chinese waters under the command of General Tirpitz. Before stationing in the harbor, Kaiser Wilhelm II raised the issue with the czar during his visit to St. Petersburg in August 1897. The czar gave only a general response, but did not object to German warships wintering there with the consent of Russian naval authorities. In October 1897 Germany noti‹ed the Russian admiral about the arrival of the German warships. As no prior consent had been requested, the Russian government protested. In the meantime, two German Catholic missionaries were attacked and killed by a Chinese “gang” on November 1. The incident was used as a pretext for the seizure of Kiao-Chow. On November 7, the Kaiser ordered the German squadron to sail to the port, but on November 9 the Russians demanded that Germany look at some other location for its compensation from China. At the same time, the Russian admiral was ordered to enter the port if the German vessels reached it. Nevertheless, the German squadron occupied the port on November 14. The exchange of telegrams between Berlin and St. Petersburg intensi‹ed, and the czar was informed that Germany would not object if the Russians also took a Chinese port. The Russians quickly agreed and informed Germany about the renunciation of their claims over Kiao-Chow. The Russian squadron would anchor at Port Arthur in the meantime. After the Germans’ prompt approval on December 17, the Russian occupation of Port Arthur took place at the end of December. On January 2, Germany also recognized Manchuria, Chinese Turkestan, and the province of Pechili as part of the Russian sphere of interest in the Far East. Source: Malozemoff 1958, 95–112; Langer 1951, 445–80; Morse and MacNair 1951, 424–27; Grenville 1964, 135–39; Townsend 1966, 186–89; Geiss 1976, 84–85; Taylor 1954, 372–77; Joseph 1928, 189–221, 264–314. 1897–98 Niger Dispute

In Central-West Africa, Britain and France disputed each other’s claims in the Upper Niger, and a settlement was sought through a Joint Niger Commission in Paris. Despite the Commission’s work, both powers sent expeditions into the disputed area in 1897. Although negotiations continued through the winter of 1897 and spring of 1898, the crisis became acute in February and March 1898 when the two powers seemed to be at the verge of war. On June 14, 1898, an agreement was

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‹nally reached delimiting their respective spheres of in›uence from Senegal to the Nile region and clearing up the boundary questions between their possessions in this region. Source: Grenville 1964, 121–24; Langer 1951, 550. 1898–99 Anglo-Russian Crisis

In January 1898, British top-ranked cabinet members issued a number of statements warning that England was determined, even at the cost of war, to oppose any action by other powers that would jeopardize British commercial interests in China. The appearance of British ships at Port Arthur further heightened Anglo-Russian tensions. However, after the United States and Japan declined the British request to become involved in the dispute, the British government eventually accepted the compromise. In March 1898, the Chinese government leased Port Arthur and Talienwan to Russia, and Weihaiwei to Britain. The tensions yet continued, now over railway concessions in northern China, but an Anglo-Russian agreement was reached on April 29, 1899. Each party recognized the other side’s sphere of interest in China; Russia recognized the British railway sphere in the Yangtze basin in return for the British promise not to interfere in the Russian sphere in Manchuria. The partition of China, triggered by the German seizure of Kiao-Chow, expanded when France obtained a lease on Kwangchowan in April 1898. Source: Malozemoff 1958, 113–16; Langer 1951, 463–74. 1898–99 Samoan Islands Dispute

The death of Samoan king Malietoa in August 1898 led to internal ‹ghting between the Samoan factions. Supporting Malietoa’s son against the rival Mataefe, who was backed by the Germans, British and American warships bombed Apua on March 15, 1899. As the German consulate was damaged during the bombings, Germany vehemently protested, threatening to break off diplomatic relations with England, but ultimately sought the partition of the Samoan islands. Salisbury’s opposition to any partitioning gave way to the Kaiser’s pressure, who sought the principal island Upolu as an outpost for his navy. On November 1, 1899, a treaty was concluded, granting the island of Tutuila to the United States, Upolu and Savari to Germany, and Tonga Islands, Savage Islands, and an area in Togoland to England, while Germany renounced its rights in Zanzibar. Source: Gooch 1936–38, 1:212–17; Townsend 1966, 198–201;

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Brandenburg 1933, 125–29; Langer 1951, 619–24; Grenville 1964, 274–77. 1898–99 Fashoda

Despite the Grey Declaration (March 28, 1895) that any French advance in the Nile Valley would constitute “an unfriendly act” against England, France sent two missions, led by Louis Monteil, to reach the upper Nile (1894 and 1895). After both missions failed, the Marchand mission was sent out from the Congo region in February 1896. Soon after the Marchand mission had been dispatched, the British sent the Kitchener mission (April 1896), designed to reconquer Sudan and move toward Fashoda. The two missions, Marchand heading from the west and Kitchener moving from the north, were both involved in heavy ‹ghting with the native populations on their way to Fashoda. Marchand succeeded in reaching the Nile at Fashoda on July 10, 1898. On September 19, 1898, Kitchener’s army also arrived at Fashoda, refusing to negotiate with Marchand and demanding French withdrawal. In October 1898, the Russian foreign minister, Muraviev, visited Paris, but declined to give any Russian support to the French claims in Fashoda. The Germans also refused to give their support to France, due to the Anglo-German agreement of 1890 by which Germany recognized English rights to the Upper Nile in exchange for German acquisition of Heligoland. The British government demanded of France an unconditional withdrawal from Fashoda and dispatched several squadrons to Gibraltar and Alexandria to guard against the French Mediterranean ›eet. With these extensive naval preparations in October, England seemed to be preparing for war. After the long deadlock, the French government made the ‹rst conciliatory move: on November 4 it ordered the evacuation of Fashoda. On March 21, 1899, a convention was signed: France agreed to renounce all its claims in the Nile basin, but was not required to recognize British claims in Egypt. In exchange England gave France a free hand in the Sahara and the interior of Western Sahara from the Atlantic to Lake Chad. Source: Langer 1951, 537–70; Grenville 1964, 218–34; Schuman 1931, 164–67; Anderson 1966, 102–7; Gooch 1936–38, 1:94–105; Seton-Watson 1937, 579–81; Cooke 1973, 81–97; Taylor 1954, 380–83. 1899–1900 Masampo Episode

Since 11,000 miles separate Vladivostok from Port Arthur, acquired by Russia in 1898, securing a port in southern Korea became an impor-

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tant strategic goal for Russian diplomacy in the Far East. In 1899 the Russians approached the Korean government in a series of abortive attempts to obtain a concession of the land at Masampo. On March 16, 1900, a Russian squadron then arrived at Chemulpo, alarming both Korea and Japan. The Japanese navy was urgently mobilized, and a part of the army was also put on the highest alert, leading the Russians to retreat. While an agreement on the Russian lease of an uninhabited coaling station at Masampo was signed on March 30, it also obliged Russia never to demand the use of Masampo or surrounding areas for military purposes. After learning about the restrictive terms of the lease, which de facto re›ected the Russian retreat, the Japanese accepted the favorable terms and subsequently halted their military preparations. Source: Malozemoff 1958, 120–23; Langer 1951, 688–92; Morse and MacNair 1931, 506–7. 1901–3 Manchurian Evacuation

During the joint effort of major powers to suppress the Boxer Rebellion in China, Russia occupied Manchuria. As the Boxer Rebellion subsided, Russian troops were expected to withdraw from southern Manchuria. When their withdrawal was delayed, the Japanese sent the ‹rst sharp Note in March 1901. The Russians, convinced that war was inevitable, doubled their troops at the Manchurian border. The tensions temporarily subsided, only to reemerge after the Russians failed to carry out the terms of the Russo-Chinese agreement of 1902, which provided for the Manchurian evacuation. In August 1903, the czar dismissed Count Witte, marking the victory for the so-called Bezobrazov group in the Russian government, which favored Russian imperial designs in Manchuria and Korea. This cabinet reshuf›ing further hardened the Russian position in Manchuria. It was again challenged by the Japanese in their Note of April 1903, threatening to resort to force if the evacuation again failed. Russia swiftly rejected the renewed Japanese demands, thus giving the appearance of victory for Russian diplomacy. The following year the two powers found themselves in a new standoff, also compounded by the Korean issue, which ultimately culminated in war (see the case of Russo-Japanese War). Source: Malozemoff 1958, 208, 227, 237–49; Langer 1951, 711–29; Takeuchi 1935, 132–41.

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1902–3 Venezuelan Crisis

By 1902 Venezuela owed large debts to foreign investors, primarily British and German creditors, which were long overdue. Coupled with the damage claims by foreign companies and citizens who lost their property in Venezuela’s frequent internal disorders, the debt problems prompted Britain and Germany to apply harsher pressures for ‹nancial settlements. After Venezuelan President Cipriano Castro had refused to respond to the ultimatum of December 7, British and German warships attacked the Venezuelan navy on December 9, 1902, and later also proclaimed a blockade of the Venezuelan coast on December 20. In the ongoing negotiations of January 1903, the blockading powers insisted their claims be paid ‹rst, while the U.S. representatives insisted on equal treatment of all nations with unsettled claims against Venezuela. As Germany and Britain refused to renounce their claims for priority treatment, President Roosevelt ordered the U.S. ›eet into the eastern Caribbean. Uneasy with the rapid concentration of U.S. warships in the Caribbean waters, the British and German governments ended the blockade in February 1903 and agreed to U.S. arbitration of the debt issue. Source: Healy 1988, 100–103; Townsend 1966, 206–7; Langley 1980, 24–26; Langley 1985, 20–22; Munro 1964, 66–77. 1904–5 Russo-Japanese War

In this war, Russia and Japan clashed seriously for the ‹rst time over their in›uence in Korea and Manchuria. After its decisive victory in the Sino-Japanese war for control of Korea in 1895, Japan emerged as a serious rival to Russia and other powers in the Far East. Russia intensi‹ed its forward policy of penetration with its Trans-Siberian Railway and the occupation of Manchuria. Concerned with the prospects for its hegemony in Korea, on February 8, 1904, Japan attacked Port Arthur, and two days later war was declared. The Russian forces were defeated in a series of Japanese attacks, and a treaty of peace was ‹nally signed at Portsmuth on September 5, 1905. Russia ceded the northern part of Sakhalin to Japan, transferred its lease of the Liaotung Peninsula, and recognized the Japanese preponderance in Korea. In 1910 Japan formally annexed Korea. Other powers did not interfere militarily, although there was an incident between the Rus-

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sian and British ›eets (the Dogger Bank episode). This incident was quickly settled, however, as it was clari‹ed that the Russian ›eet opened ‹re upon British trawlers by mistake (supposing them to be Japanese destroyers). Notwithstanding this incident, Britain and other powers stood aside throughout the war. Source: Kajima 1968, 130–52, 328–41; Morse and MacNair 1931, 512–16; MacNair and Lach 1955, 99–105; Nish 1977, 69–77; Beasley 1987, 78–84; Gooch 1936–38, 1:75–83; Monger 1963, 147–85; Takeuchi 1935, 142–59. 1905–6 First Moroccan (Tangier) Crisis

Since the French occupation of oases (1900), there were a number of clashes between French troops and the native peoples at the Moroccan frontier. Concerned about the Anglo-French entente of 1904, German of‹cials made several attempts to split the alliance. Morocco was ultimately chosen as a test of the strength of the Anglo-French alliance. The idea was to draw the French to Germany on a mistaken assumption that England would fail to support France on the Moroccan issue. German Chancellor von Bülow managed to persuade Wilhelm II to go on a trip to the Mediterranean with Morocco as the ‹nal destination. The Kaiser disliked the idea and attempted to avoid landing in Tangier. Nevertheless, his voyage developed into a serious crisis as he landed at Tangier on March 31, 1905. At the of‹cial ceremony and before the French diplomatic representatives, Wilhelm lent public support for Morocco as an independent state. The crisis involving Berlin, Paris, and London endured throughout the year, and occasionally the tensions were close to erupting into open warfare. The French viewed the German action as an intrusion on their sphere of in›uence, and the British gave them diplomatic support. Although the crisis caused the fall of Delcasse, the French got what they wanted at the Algeciras Conference of 1906, where they were entrusted with the border police and gained strong economic control over Morocco. The crisis was a complete ‹asco for German diplomacy, as England and Russia declined to support Germany. Source: Monger 1963, 186–235; Schuman 1931, 173–84; Townsend 1966, 309–21; Gooch 1936–38, 1:51–63, 129–39, 163–83, 245–53, 257–66; Gooch 1936–38, 2:12–20; Seton-Watson 1937, 602–7; Brandenburg 1933, 208–31, 244–56; Roberts 1928, 1:549–52; Cooke 1973, 118–36; Geiss 1976, 101–5; Taylor 1954, 428–33.

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1908 Annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina

At the beginning of 1908, A. P. Izvolskii, the Russian foreign minister, attempted to forge a Russo-Austrian agreement on the Balkan issues. On September 15, Izvolskii and Alois Aerenthal, the Austrian foreign minister, met at Buchlau, but made no written agreement. Aerenthal reported that Izvolskii expressed his willingness to agree to the AustroHungarian annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina in return for Austrian support for the opening of the Straits to Russian warships. However, when Austria proclaimed the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina on October 6, the two statesmen offered very different interpretations of their talks at Buchlau. Most important, Izvolskii denied the truthfulness of Aerenthal’s report. Still without a free passage for its warships through the Straits, Russia protested diplomatically. Russia failed to gain support from London or Paris, as Britain and France opposed any change in the international regulation of the Straits. On the other hand, Germany was not pleased to discover the Austrian decision on annexation had been made without consulting Berlin, but still decided to back its ally. Diplomatic tensions continued until Germany sent a sharp Note to Russia on March 21, 1909, demanding a clear Russian acceptance of the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Without British or French support, the Russians yielded to the ultimatum and forced Serbia to recognize the annexation on March 31, 1909. Source: Schmitt 1937, 19–48, 186–207; Albertini 1952, 190–300; Gooch 1936–38, 1:274–83, 331–34, 389–400; Gooch 1936–38, 2:46–54; Anderson 1966, 279–86; Marriott 1940, 421–32; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:81–86; Seton-Watson 1937, 615–16; Brandenburg 1933, 300–335; Geiss 1976, 110–18; Taylor 1954, 451–56. 1911 Second Moroccan (Agadir) Crisis

In March 1911, the sultan of Morocco appealed to France to defend Fez, a Moroccan city, from native uprisings. In his communication with Paris on April 28, German Foreign Minister Kiderlen agreed only to a provisional occupation of Fez. On May 28 French forces occupied Fez, and an of‹cial statement came from the French government that the occupation was provisional. Suddenly, Germany decided to respond to the French advance in Morocco and on July 1, 1911, dispatched the gunboat Panther to the southern Moroccan port of

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Agadir. On July 15 Germany demanded the whole of the French Congo in return for a French protectorate over Morocco. France refused to give up its colony and turned to Russia and England for support. The Russians gave a cool response explaining that Russian public opinion would not understand a war caused by a colonial dispute over distant territory such as Morocco. The British government, nervous about the possibility of a German base near Gibraltar, protested and inquired about German intentions in Morocco. On July 24, the German government informed London that Germany had no claim to Morocco and only wanted compensation in western Africa (i.e., the whole of the French Congo). France continued to stand ‹rm and even threatened to send warships to Agadir, but this threat was later withdrawn. The Germans yielded in the end; on November 4 an agreement was signed by which Germany agreed to a French protectorate over Morocco. Germany obtained only two strips of territory in the French Congo with access to the coast and the Congo river, considered a worthless bargain for German diplomacy. France also acquired a narrow strip in the Cameroons, south of Lake Chad, and by the end of November, the German gunboat was recalled from Agadir. Source: Gooch 1936–38, 2:69–81, 137–40, 216–26; Seton-Watson 1937, 622–25; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:37–48; Brandenburg 1933, 370–86; Roberts 1928, 1:553–57; Geiss 1976, 132–37; Taylor 1954, 464–73. 1912 First Balkan War

A number of different territorial issues brought together three Balkan states—Bulgaria, Greece, and Serbia—‹ghting against Turkey in the First Balkan War (October 18, 1912–May 30, 1913). The interests of major powers were not consistent across all issues, but one territorial question was particularly polarizing and almost brought them to the brink of war. On September 29 Count Berchtold, the Austro-Hungarian foreign minister, made it clear that the monarchy would not tolerate the Serbian boundaries reaching the Adriatic Sea. In October, Austro-Hungarian troops were put in a state of readiness and massively concentrated along the borders of Serbia. After initial hesitancy, Germany agreed to join the claims of Austria-Hungary as its ally, while Russia strongly supported the Serbian claims. In November, the situation grew tense as Russia ordered troop mobilization. Austria subse-

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quently strengthened its troops on the eastern frontiers in Galicia. Despite the heightened alertness and mobilization on both sides, the crisis was resolved peacefully after the Russians decided not to support its ally to the end. This shift in the Russian position left Serbia unprotected, forcing its troops to evacuate Durazzo, an Adriatic harbor, on May 5. Source: Albertini 1952, 364–402; Helmreich 1938, 193–230, 288–90; Anderson 1966, 291–302; Gooch 1936–38, 2:95–105, 181–99, 324–41, 387–412; Seton-Watson 1937, 632–41; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:107–10; Brandenburg 1933, 418–49; Geiss 1976, 140–42; Taylor 1954, 490–97. 1914–18 World War I

After the Archduke Francis Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914, Austro-Hungary sent an ultimatum to Serbia on July 23. As both Serbia and Austria ordered mobilization, Austria declared war on Serbia on July 28, and Belgrade was bombed the next day. On July 30 Russia ordered general mobilization, as it had previously demanded Austria not invade Serbia. The next day Germany sent a twelve-hour ultimatum to Russia to withdraw its troops from the German frontier, and on July 31 Germany declared war on Russia. Meanwhile, British and French concerns were centered on the German western frontier. On July 29, Germany offered a bargain to Britain: it would not take French or Belgian territory if Britain promised neutrality. Although Britain rejected the bargain, Germany also rejected the British request that Germany respect Belgian neutrality. A few hours before its declaration of war on Russia, Germany promised Britain not to attack France if Britain would guarantee French neutrality. On August 2, the British cabinet decided to protect France against German attack, and on the same day Germany invaded Luxembourg, demanding that Belgium provide free passage for German troops through Belgian territory. On August 3, Germany declared war on France, on the pretext of frontier violations. Germany also began the invasion of Belgium, and the next day Britain declared war on Germany. Source: Schmitt 1930; Dedijer 1966; Bowsworth 1979, 377–417; Gooch 1936–38, 2:122–33, 269–86, 355–70, 434–47; Brandenburg 1933, 482–513; Geiss 1976, 163–72; Takeuchi 1935, 168–83; Taylor 1954, 511–31.

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1920–23 Anglo-Russian Frictions in Central Asia

The Anglo-Russian clashes over their interests in the Near East did not abate with the fall of czarist Russia. In the years after the Bolshevik Revolution, there were recurring frictions concerning Persia (Iran) and Afghanistan. After Russian troops occupied the Persian province of Ghilan in October 1920, Persia signed a treaty with Russia on February 26, 1921, which made the evacuation of Russian troops contingent upon the withdrawal of British forces from northern Persia. Both powers began to retreat from their occupying areas, but the frictions reemerged regarding their interests in neighboring Afghanistan. After winning independence in 1919, the ascension of Amanullah to the throne of Afghanistan brought a major shift in Russo-Afghan relations. The Treaty of February 28, 1921 provided for friendly relations between Afghanistan and Soviet Russia, including Soviet military and technical assistance, which made London uneasy about the British position in the area. Namely, the British were deeply involved in Waziristan, the northwest frontier province of Afghanistan, which started with the Anglo-Afghan War of 1919. Since air bombings of Waziristan did not improve the British position, Curzon issued an ultimatum of May 2, 1923, alleging Russian hostile activities in Persia, Afghanistan, and India. The ultimatum also demanded compensations on a few minor issues, but most importantly it demanded retraction from the alleged anti-British activities. The Soviet reply met the British demands on a few issues, but denied any anti-British activities in Central Asia. In the meantime, the French occupation of the Ruhr and the deepening currency crisis in Germany turned London toward moderation vis-à-vis Russia, and both sides claimed a diplomatic victory concerning their interests in the Near East. Source: Fischer 1951, 1:428–49; Adamec 1967, 142–66; Langer 1968, 1097. 1932 Shanghai Incident

On January 18, 1932, several Japanese residents were attacked by Chinese residents in Shanghai. This incident served as the pretext for Japan’s naval reinforcement in Shanghai, accompanied by an ultimatum to China. The crisis escalated when Japan launched bombings of Chapei on January 29, immediately prompting the British, whose major commercial interests in China rested on Shanghai, to send a sharp Note to Japan. The British strengthened their naval forces in the

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surrounding area and sent a warship with a battalion of infantry to Hong Kong. The United States also sided with Britain, joining its threats against Japan, but ‹ghting between the Japanese and Chinese forces did not abate until a ‹nal armistice was reached on May 5. Under U.S. and British pressure, the Japanese troops ‹nally left Shanghai by the end of May. Source: Toshihiko [1962–63] 1984, 305–19; MacNair and Lach 1955, 313–22; Nish 1977, 182; Northedge 1967, 356–58; GathorneHardy 1950, 316–17; Takeuchi 1935, 373–80; Medlicott 1968, 116–17. 1935–36 Italo-Ethiopian (Abyssinian) War

In December 1934, ‹ghting broke out between Ethiopian and Italian troops at Walwal near the border between Ethiopia and Italian Somaliland. The ‹ghting continued sporadically, and on August 29, 1935, the British Mediterranean Fleet was dispatched to the area. By the fall of 1935, however, Italy and Britain agreed to cancel their naval movements in the Mediterranean. Italy subsequently invaded Ethiopia on October 2, 1935, and the Ethiopian government appealed to the League of Nations. The League condemned the aggression and declared sanctions on Italy on October 7. France was alarmed that the sanctions would turn Italy away from the anti-German agreement signed by France, Britain, and Italy in April 1935. France succeeded in preventing the imposition of oil sanctions on Italy and designed a joint plan with Britain for the partition of Ethiopia. According to the LavalHoare plan, Italy would be granted a substantial piece of Ethiopian territory. The British media revealed the plan just before it was of‹cially presented to the belligerent parties, and public condemnation led to Hoare’s resignation as prime minister on December 18. The controversy over the plan also led to the fall of Laval’s government in France on January 22, 1936. In the meantime, Italian forces defeated Ethiopian resistance, annexing the entire territory of Ethiopia on May 5, 1936. Source: Lowe and Marzari 1975, 255–90; Mack Smith 1976, 59–81; Nere 1975, 173–84; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 402–18; Northedge 1967, 406–25; Sontag 1971, 285–92; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #47. 1935–36 Outer Mongolian Frontier Dispute

After acquiring Manchuria and Jehol, an expansion into Mongolia was Japan’s next goal. For this purpose, Japan tried to use Mongol

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nationalism by emphasizing common religious ties, ignoring the fact that they belonged to very different Buddhist branches. Japan also hoped to tie Mongol national aspirations to its puppet state Manchukuo, hoping that the history of the Mongol-Manchu control over China in imperial times would turn away the Mongols from their ties with the Soviets and bring them closer to Japan and Manchukuo. These designs did not work, and eventually a series of clashes between Manchukuo’s and the Outer Mongolian armies ensued from January 1935 through March 1936. In a number of incidents, Japanese troops would occasionally join the Manchukuo army in combat, which raised Soviet concerns as they had a “gentleman’s” agreement with Outer Mongolia on November 27, 1934. Subsequently, Soviet troops returned to Outer Mongolia as clashes ›ared on the ManchukuoOuter Mongolian border. At one point, Russian and Japanese forces were directly involved in minor clashes (Changlingtzu Incident) in March 1936. The Japanese eventually retreated from their anti-Soviet agitation in Outer Mongolia, only to have the hostilities renewed concerning a different issue in Manchuria (see the next case, the Amur River Incident). Source: Ikuhiko [1962–63] 1976, 134–37; Beloff 1947, 1:246–48. 1937 Amur River Incident

Since the Amur River incident of June 1937, Soviet and Japanese troops were engaged in recurrent ‹ghting on the Manchurian frontier. The Japanese had previously occupied Manchuria and established the puppet state of Manchukuo in 1931. As Soviet troops occupied several islands in the Amur River on June 21, 1937, the Japanese ordered troop concentrations in the area on June 24. After the Japanese bombed a Soviet gunboat, the Soviets quickly retreated by evacuating the islands on July 4. Source: Ikuhiko [1962–63] 1976, 137–40; Beloff 1949, 2: 179–81; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #55. 1938 Changkufeng

In July 1938 the Soviets attempted to occupy the Changkufeng area on the Soviet-Manchukuo border, and the Japanese retaliated. As the Soviets occupied Changkufeng, the hill near the frontiers between Manchuria, Korea, and the Soviet Union, on July 15 Japanese Ambassador Shigemitsu delivered an ultimatum demanding the withdrawal

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of Soviet troops. The Soviets rejected the demand, and ‹ghting between the Japanese and Soviet forces broke out in the frontier area on July 27. Despite major ‹ghting between the two forces through August, the Japanese quickly retreated this time and withdrew their troops from the area. Source: Ikuhiko [1962–63] 1976, 140–57; Beloff 1949, 2:191–92; MacNair and Lach 1955, 485; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #63. 1938 Italian Colonial Claims against France

When Italian Foreign Minister Ciano addressed the parliament on November 30, 1938, he was joined by a number of Fascist deputies calling for retribution over French control of Tunis, Corsica, Nice, and Djibuti. The anti-French campaign quickly turned into massive street demonstrations. France responded with naval maneuvers in the Mediterranean, while Italy sent military reinforcements into Libya. The crisis ended on March 31, when Mussolini dropped his colonial demands against France. Source: Burgwyn 1997, 182–88; Mack Smith 1976, 134–36; Nere 1975, 233–34; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #66. 1938 Sudetenland Problem and Munich Crisis

The German occupation of Czechoslovakia proceeded in two successive stages. In May 1938 Germany intensi‹ed its support for the Sudetenland secessionist movement and ordered the movement of troops toward the Czech border on May 19. As Britain and France responded with threats of retaliation if the Germans had invaded Czechoslovakia, Hitler decided to retreat and announced that Germany did not have any aggressive aims against Czechoslovakia. The crisis was renewed in the fall of 1938 after German forces began to concentrate again near the Czech border. Meanwhile, Britain and France pressed the Czech government to concede the Sudetenland, as it was largely inhabited by a German minority. On September 12, Hitler announced the German demand for self-determination of the Sudetenland Germans, and the Czech government ordered mobilization. The Anglo-French plan of September 19 proposed a transfer of the part of Sudetenland that was populated by the German majority. Chamberlain also met Hitler on September 22 and 23, but this time Hitler sent an ultimatum for the territorial transfer of Sudetenland to be completed by October 1. Although France ordered a partial mobilization, the Four-Power

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Agreement was reached on September 30 in Munich by which Czechoslovakia was required to accept the territorial transfer. Throughout the crisis the Soviets refused to give military support to Czechoslovakia, emphasizing that the Soviet-Czech Pact stipulated prior French action as a condition for the Soviet defense commitment. Germany further advanced by occupying Czechoslovakia and Memel. Although war was already felt in the air, neither power retaliated militarily against these German advancements. Source: Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 463–85; Nere 1975, 221–35; Renouvin 1969, 110–16; Sontag 1971, 336–50; Northedge 1967, 504–15, 527–48; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #62, 64. 1939 Italy’s Invasion of Albania

In his designs to extend to the Balkans, Mussolini ordered the landing of Italian troops in Albania, which took place on April 7, 1939. In the meantime, the Italian representative in London delivered Mussolini’s assurances to Halifax that the occupation of Tirana was not designed to hurt British interests in neighboring Greece. Nevertheless, under pressure from the Greek government, the British were convinced that Mussolini was about to invade Corfu next, and the British Fleet was ordered to Malta on April 11. Halifax also secured the French promise to support England in case of war against Italy over Greece. The French ›eet was subsequently ordered to the Mediterranean and reinforcements sent to Tunis and French Somaliland. The crisis ended after the Italians denied the “rumors” of Italian designs against Greece. Nevertheless, on April 13 both France and England announced their guarantee of the independence of Greece and Rumania. Source: Lowe and Marzari 1975, 326–31; Burgwyn 1997, 188–91; Mack Smith 1976, 149–58; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 489–90; Renouvin 1969, 145–46; Northedge 1967, 581–83; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #71. 1939 Nomonhan Incident

The Russo-Japanese con›ict over their interests in the Far East again escalated in May 1939, when their troops clashed on the MongolianManchukuo frontier. While the Japanese controlled Manchukuo, the Soviets were allied to Outer Mongolia under their 1936 Mutual Assistance Pact. The joint attack by Japanese and Manchukuo forces against Outer Mongolia on May 28 triggered a Soviet counterattack on

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June 18. The ‹ghting escalated into a full-scale war throughout the summer of 1939. As the Soviet-Mongolian forces defeated and drove the Japanese troops from the area, a cease-‹re agreement was reached on September 15, 1939, leaving the permanent boundary demarcation for future negotiations. Source: Ikuhiko [1962–63] 1976, 157–78; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #72. 1939–45 World War II

Prior to the Polish crisis, Germany signed a nonaggression pact with the Soviet Union on August 23, 1939, which cleared the way for the partition of Poland and the Baltic states. The pact alarmed Britain, and British diplomatic efforts failed to halt the German advance in Poland. On September 1, German forces invaded Poland. The following day Britain sent an ultimatum, but, as no response came from Hitler for negotiations, Britain declared war on Germany on September 3. The war involvement of the Soviet Union came only after the Germans launched a surprise attack on Russia on June 22, 1941. (For the Soviet and U.S. entries, see section 3—direct-immediate deterrence failures.) Source: Thorne 1973; Nere 1975, 235–45; Sontag 1971, 357–81; Renouvin 1969, 144–66; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 496–502; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #74. 1945 Azerbaijan Issue

During World War II, Allied forces were stationed in Iran with the understanding that they would withdraw six months after an armistice agreement was reached with the Axis powers. On November 16, 1945, Iran’s Democratic party organized a rebellion for the autonomy of Azerbaijan, a northern Iranian province in the Soviet occupation zone. The following day, the Iranian government sent troops to the province, but the stationed Soviet forces blocked them. On November 24, the United States sent a Note to the Soviet Union demanding the troops’ withdrawal by January 1, 1946. There were several abortive attempts to negotiate the withdrawal of all foreign troops. While the U.S. troops withdrew in the meantime, the Soviet forces remained in Azerbaijan. On March 4 and 5, they were further reinforced and began to move across Iranian territory. On March 6 the United States protested against the Soviet troop movements, bringing the dispute before the UN Security Council. Finally, on March 24 the Soviets announced an

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agreement with Iran for the withdrawal of their troops, which was subsequently completed by May 1946. Source: Ulam 1974, 425–27; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #108; Butterworth 1976, #13; Tillema 1991, #12.1; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #5. 1945–46 Levant

The Treaty of Versailles of 1919 granted France a mandate over Levant, comprising Lebanon and Syria, and formerly controlled by the Ottoman Empire. As World War II was approaching its ‹nal stage, an independence movement in Syria clashed with the French forces on May 8, 1945, and soon afterward Syria appealed to the United Nations for independence. The French reacted by landing battalions in Beirut on May 17, 1945. As the French troops proceeded toward Damascus, shelling the city in May 1945, the British reacted with an ultimatum, demanding the evacuation of French troops from Syrian cities. There was also an unresolved issue over the authority of British General Paget, who was in charge of Allied forces in the Middle East. Churchill still considered him the commander in the area, including Damascus, while de Gaulle argued Paget’s functions ceased with the end of the war in Europe. Despite the continuing tensions between London and Paris, the French complied with the British ultimatum and evacuated their forces on June 3. Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #105; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #4. 1946 Turkish Straits

In June 1945 the Soviets called for a revision of the 1936 Convention regulating the Straits of Dardanelles and Bosporus. Their demand, which was repeated on August 7, 1946, included permission for Soviet naval and land bases in the Turkish Straits area, a free passage for non–Black Sea vessels through the Straits, and the return of two provinces on Turkey’s Caucasian border. At the same time, Soviet troops began to concentrate in the Caucasus, which was accompanied by Soviet naval movements in the Black Sea. On August 20, the United States dispatched navy and armed forces to the area to back the Turkish rejection of the treaty revisions. After an exchange of U.S. and Soviet Notes, the Soviets eventually yielded in October and dropped previous demands for an international conference on the Straits.

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Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 28–32; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #111; Butterworth 1976, #7. 1948–49 Berlin Blockade

According to the 1945 Potsdam Agreement, Germany was divided into four zones, with the status of Germany’s future remaining open until a ‹nal settlement. Berlin was also divided into four zones, but it was located within the Soviet zone of occupation in Germany. In 1946 and 1947 the policy of Western powers began to be aimed at the economic recovery of Germany, which brought them into disagreement with the Soviet Union. On several occasions, the Soviets repeated their demand for $10 billion in German reparations, which hindered the U.S.-British attempt to unify Germany and strengthen its economy. In March 1948, the Soviets walked out of the conference with the Western powers, as their positions on Germany widely diverged. On April 1, 1948, the Soviets ‹rst began to interfere with Western traf‹c into Berlin by introducing a temporary restriction on their access to the city. Nevertheless, the West introduced currency reform in the western German zone and initiated a process of full economic recovery. On June 24, the Soviets retaliated and imposed a complete blockade on Western access to the city, while the Western powers, in turn, began the airlift of supplies to Berlin. After several months of acute tension, the Soviets of‹cially lifted the blockade in May 1949. In subsequent months, two separate German states were formed with the West Berlin enclave within the territory of East Germany. Source: Ulam 1974, 452–55; George and Smoke 1974, 107–39; Betts 1987, 23–31; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #123; Butterworth 1976, #33; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #13. 1950 Taiwan Strait

Mao Tse-tung’s Communist forces assured a victory against Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist forces by 1949, leading to the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. Defeated in the Chinese civil war, Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang retreated off the Chinese mainland and moved to Taiwan (Formosa) and a few other offshore islands such as Quemoy and Matsu. Having an ultimate goal to create a united China, Mao Tse-tung’s forces shelled the islands held by the Kuomintang in October 1949. Convinced that a Chinese invasion of Taiwan was imminent, Truman ordered the Seventh Fleet to the Taiwan Strait in June.

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The U.S. military and training assistance, as well its military presence in the area, helped the Nationalist forces launch a successful attack in early 1952. These developments also coincided with China’s entry into the Korean War, prompting the Chinese to retreat from their bombing campaigns against the islands by June 1953. Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 74–76; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #132; Tillema 1991, #16.6; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #21. 1950–53 Korean War

In a military attempt to reunify Korea, the North Korean forces crossed the 38th parallel dividing the two Koreas on June 25, 1950. On June 27, President Truman authorized U.S. forces to support South Korea and ordered the dispatch of the Seventh Fleet to the Formosa Straits. The ›eet subsequently imposed a naval blockade, while the U.S. delegation brought the issue before the UN Security Council. As the Soviet delegation walked out before the vote, there was no veto against the Security Council decision to adopt the U.S.-sponsored resolution, demanding a North Korean withdrawal behind the 38th parallel. The resolution also established a UN combined force, headed by U.S. General MacArthur, to assist the South Korean army. In September, American and South Korean forces launched a counteroffensive, crossing the 38th parallel in October. When their forces began to approach the Manchurian border and the Yalu River, Chinese troops crossed the river to halt the U.S. advancement and assist the North Koreans. President Truman announced, in turn, that the United States would use force to defeat the Chinese troops, but the Chinese forces continued to push MacArthur’s forces behind the parallel, and the war subsequently escalated. Soviet reaction to the U.S. crossing of the 38th parallel was to put its Far Eastern troops on alert. In the subsequent years of the Korean War, the Soviets neither used force nor issued military threats against U.S. actions, although Soviet weapons poured into the Chinese and North Korean armies. The war eventually ended with an agreement on July 27, 1953, which roughly reestablished the prewar boundaries. Source: LaFeber 1993, 99–105; Schulzinger 1998, 225–30; George and Smoke 1974, 140–234; Betts 1987, 31–47; Ulam 1974, 425–27; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 28–32; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #132, 133, 140; Butterworth 1976, #67; Tillema 1991, #16.5; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #24.

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1954–55 Chinese Offshore Islands

The PRC’s Chou En-lai government continued Mao Tse-tung’s policy of uni‹cation with the offshore islands held by the Nationalist government. On September 3, 1954, the PRC launched bombardments of Quemoy and Matsu, triggering the crisis for the United States. The Seventh Fleet was promptly ordered to the Taiwan Straits, and a defense pact between the United States and Taiwan was signed on December 2, 1954. Although the United States retracted from supporting the Taiwanese concerning their positions in the small Tachen islands, which the United States did not consider vital to their interests, Chou En-lai decided to concede on the major issue concerning Quemoy and Matsu. The PRC subsequently stopped bombing the islands and offered to negotiate with the United States on April 23, apparently indicating its recognition of an increasing U.S. commitment to Taiwan. Source: George and Smoke 1974, 266–94; Betts 1987, 54–62; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #146; Butterworth 1976, #95; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #36. 1956 Suez Canal

Following the Egyptian nationalization of the Suez Canal in July 1956, Britain and France decided to join Israel in a combined military attack against Egypt. At the end of October, the three countries invaded Egypt, but they failed to consult the United States. On November 5, the Soviets warned that they would bomb Paris and London unless the invasion stopped, and invited the United States for a superpower meeting. Within a month, Britain and France backed down, reaching a cease-‹re agreement on November 6. On the same day, the United States responded by putting the Strategic Air Command on alert and signaled it would retaliate in the case of an attack on Paris or London. However, the Eisenhower administration essentially disagreed with the actions of Britain and France and ‹rmly pressed them to withdraw, threatening economic sanctions against the allies if the invasion did not stop. After Britain and France had complied on November 6, Israel announced two days later that it would evacuate Sinai, which it did completely by March 12, 1957. Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 123–29; LaFeber 1993, 184–89; Ulam 1974, 586–89; Betts 1987, 62–66; Brecher and Wilken-

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feld 1997, #152; Butterworth 1976, #119, 120; Tillema 1991, #13.8; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #29, 47. 1957 Turkish-Syrian Frontier Dispute

Since 1955 Syria, in›uenced by Egyptian President Nasser, began to shift toward the anti-Western Arab world. It signed a military alliance with Egypt and accepted Soviet military aid. In January 1957 the Eisenhower Doctrine was announced, promising American assistance, including troops, for the defense of any pro-Western Arab state against “international communism.” When some minor border clashes erupted between Turkey and Syria in the summer of 1957, Turkey organized a series of meetings with its pro-Western Arab neighbors. On September 7 the United States repeated its commitment to the Eisenhower Doctrine, and Syria quickly responded that it did not intend to attack any Arab state. Soon the Soviets also warned Turkey against any attack on Syria, and Turkish Premier Menderes subsequently denied any aggressive intentions toward Syria. The United States, however, issued a warning that an attack on Turkey would trigger U.S. retaliation on Soviet territory. At the same time, the U.S. Sixth Fleet began maneuvers near the Syrian shores. Despite high tensions, the border dispute subsided by November 1957. Nonetheless, it did draw Syria even closer to Egypt, and the two states formed the United Arab Republic the following year. Source: George and Smoke 1974, 332–37; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #159; Butterworth 1976, #108; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #40. 1958 Quemoy-Matsu

In 1949 China claimed sovereignty over Taiwan (Formosa) and its two largest offshore islands—Quemoy and Matsu. Five years later (1954) China attempted to solve the issue militarily and bombed Quemoy. The United States replied that it would deploy the Seventh Fleet if invasion occurred, and the Chinese stopped the bombardment. As a result, the United States made a commitment to Taiwan by signing the Mutual Security Treaty. China resumed the bombardment of Quemoy on August 23, 1958, and reiterated its territorial claims. The Taiwanese forces ‹red back, and the United States sent the Seventh Fleet to the area on August 27. In September, the United States also issued a nuclear threat against the Chinese invasion of Quemoy. The Soviets

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responded with a counterthreat against an attack on China, but quickly clari‹ed that they would not provide military support for Chinese efforts to reunify with Taiwan. The Chinese discontinued the bombardment of Quemoy shortly thereafter. In October the U.S. government also indicated that it would not support an invasion of mainland China and agreed on ambassadorial talks with the Chinese. Source: George and Smoke 1974, 363–89; Betts 1987, 62–79; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 151–54; Ulam 1974, 617–18; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #166; Butterworth 1976, #145; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #58. 1958–59 Berlin Deadline

Once again Berlin became the focus of superpower tensions in two subsequent crises. In his speech of November 1958, Khrushchev called for an end to the occupation of Berlin. He also announced the Soviet intention to turn its control over East Berlin (including all access routes to West Berlin) to the East German government. On November 27 he sent a Note to the Western powers demanding the demilitarization of Berlin within six months. As this deadline note was perceived as an ultimatum, the United States immediately redeployed its aircraft carriers with nuclear weapons aboard in the Mediterranean. The marines were also put on alert for a rapid movement to West Berlin. On the same day, however, Khrushchev denied at a press conference that this Note constituted an ultimatum. In late 1958 NATO denied the Soviet right to renounce its obligations unilaterally and proposed a ministerial conference. On August 3, 1959, an interim agreement was reached to ban nuclear weapons and missiles in Berlin. Source: George and Smoke 1974, 390–413; Betts 1987, 83–92; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 168–73; LaFeber 1993, 205–7; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 138–44; Ulam 1974, 619–20; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #168; Butterworth 1976, #147. 1961 Berlin Wall

The East German decision of 1961 to build a wall between East and West Berlin triggered another superpower crisis. The decision was apparently motivated by a concern over the increased ›ow of East German refugees to the western part of the city. As the wall was erected on August 17 and 18, the United States and other Western powers immediately protested. Led by the United States, the powers strengthened

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their troops in the city, with 1,500 U.S. troops arriving on August 20. On August 24 the United States also warned that it would hold the Soviets responsible for any interference with Western access to West Berlin. Khrushchev ‹nally signaled his intention to keep the city divided when he pronounced at the Party Congress of July 1961 that the Four Powers Statute was now considered invalid. Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 168–73; Betts 1987, 92–109; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 147–52; Ulam 1974, 654–56; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #185; Butterworth 1976, #181; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #74. 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis

As Cuba was the major Soviet ally in Central America, the Soviets provided the Cuban government with substantial military assistance. However, on October 16, 1962, the United States discovered that the Soviets had changed the “rules of engagement” and covertly begun to station nuclear missiles on the island. The U.S. response came on October 22 when President Kennedy announced that the missiles presented a threat to vital U.S. national interests and demanded their removal. He also announced that the United States would begin a naval blockade of the shipment of all offensive weapons to Cuba on October 24. His announcement also included the threat of retaliation against Soviet territory in the event of any attack from Cuba. Although the Soviets continued to deny the presence of their missiles in Cuba, Khrushchev ‹nally disclaimed previous denials and promised to remove the missiles in a letter of October 26. In the meantime, a U.S. U-2 surveillance plane was shot down, and Khrushchev sent a second letter on October 27 with stricter conditions. In this letter, Khrushchev stated that the USSR would remove its missiles from Cuba in exchange for the removal of U.S. missiles from Turkey. Kennedy immediately replied with an acceptance of the proposal contained in Khrushchev’s ‹rst letter of October 26, which in the end constituted the terms of the ‹nal settlement. President Kennedy’s persistence ‹nally induced the Soviets to remove their missiles, but the United States also promised not to invade Cuba. Source: George and Smoke 1974, 447–99; Betts 1987, 109–23; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 233–37; LaFeber 1993, 225–29; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 152–59; Schulzinger 1998, 266–69; Ulam 1974, 667–77; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #196; Butterworth 1976, #206; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #82.

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1967 Six Day War

In an attempt to recoup the losses of the 1956 war with Israel, Egyptian President Nasser demanded the removal of UNEF from the Gaza Strip on May 18. As the closure of the Strait of Tiran was expected to be his next move, President Johnson ordered the Sixth Fleet to the area on May 22. On the same day, Nasser announced the blockade of Israeli shipping through the Strait. Meanwhile, both superpowers urged restraint by Israel and Egypt. Nevertheless, Israel launched an attack on Egyptian and Syrian forces on June 5. As Israeli forces advanced rapidly on both fronts, they defeated the Egyptian army in the Sinai on June 7 and held the Golan Heights by June 9. On June 10 Soviet Prime Minister Kosygin sent a hotline message to Johnson warning that the Soviets would take military actions if Israel did not stop its advance to Damascus. Johnson immediately replied with an assurance that Israel would stop, but he also ordered the Sixth Fleet to move to Syrian waters. By noon of June 10, a cease-‹re went into effect. Israel gained a substantial advantage from its rapid military success, and the ›eet stopped its eastward movement. Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 269–73; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #222. 1970 Black September

Jordanian King Hussein faced a serious crisis when Palestinian guerrilla groups turned to violence in their demands for complete autonomy within Jordan. Fighting between Jordanian forces and Palestinian guerrillas broke out in early September 1970. To assure its in›uence in the region, Syria supported the Palestinian claims and invaded Jordan on September 19. In its support of Syria and concurrently with the Syrian attacks on Jordan, the Soviets issued several warnings against outside interventions. Nevertheless, on September 19 the United States undertook several military measures, including the placement of U.S. air forces in Germany on semialert and the deployment of the Sixth Fleet off the Lebanese and Syrian coasts. Despite its warnings against U.S. intervention, the Soviets also pressured Syria to withdraw from Jordan and called for a cease-‹re. The cease-‹re was soon implemented on September 29, thus ending the crisis for all involved parties. Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #238; Butterworth 1976, #285, 286.

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1971 Bangladesh

After the Pakistani liberation from British colonial rule in 1947, the country was divided into West Pakistan and East Pakistan (Bangladesh), separated by a strip of Indian territory. A movement for East Bengali independence grew over time, and the declaration of Bangladesh’s independence was ‹nally scheduled for March 6, 1971. As the West Pakistani army preempted the announcement with an attack on the Dacca University and some newspaper of‹ces on March 25, Bengali leaders declared independence on the following day. In the subsequent violent clashes, the West Pakistani army killed an estimated three million Bengali. Meanwhile, India became an active party in the dispute, and the Pakistani civil war developed into an Indo-Pakistani war after the Indian army crossed the border on November 21. India had already signed a Treaty of Friendship with the USSR and received substantial Soviet military assistance. The United States urged restraint on both sides, but it decided to move the Seventh Fleet into the Bay of Bengal on December 13 as a symbol of its support for Pakistan. The USSR also dispatched its naval vessels to the Bay of Bengal on December 15, in support of India. While Bangladesh succeeded in retaining its independence, the Indo-Pakistani disagreement was not of‹cially resolved until 1974. Source: Garthoff 1994, 299–322; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #242; Butterworth 1976, #291. 1973 Yom Kippur War

After Israel’s decisive victory in the war of 1967, the UN passed a resolution calling on Israel to withdraw its forces from the occupied areas (Resolution 242). Israel refused to withdraw unless a secure peace treaty was guaranteed with the neighboring Arab countries. Egypt then decided to turn to a military option against Israel. Although Sadat, the new Egyptian president, initiated rapprochement with the United States, Soviet arms shipments continued to pour into the Arab world. Finally, Egypt and Syria launched a coordinated surprise attack against Israel on October 6, 1973, an important religious holiday for both Jews and Muslims (Yom Kippur and Ramadan, respectively). While the Egyptians had initial success in Sinai, the Syrian forces were suffering heavy losses in the Golan Heights. As the war escalated, both superpowers ordered an airlift of military equipment to opposite sides in the “week of the airlift” (October

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13–20). After Israel had succeeded in advancing in Sinai, on October 18 a dozen Arab countries decided to reduce their oil exports by 5 percent each month until the Israelis withdrew to the 1967 prewar boundaries. Although the United States and USSR cosponsored the UN resolution mandating a cease-‹re, an acute superpower crisis developed quickly. On October 24 Brezhnev sent a Note to Nixon with a warning that the Soviet Union might intervene unilaterally unless the Israelis halted their advance on the west bank of the Suez Canal. On the same day, the United States responded by putting the Strategic Air Command, with its nuclear capability, on worldwide high alert, while Nixon sent a ‹rm reply to Moscow. At the same time, the U.S. government pressed Israel to halt its penetration into Egypt. The superpower crisis was quickly resolved with joint sponsorship of another UN resolution calling for a cease-‹re on October 26. On November 11 all the parties signed an agreement for negotiating their troops’ withdrawal and for the relief of the Egyptian Third Army, surrounded on the east bank of the Canal. Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #255; Butterworth 1976, #304, 305. 1975 Angolan Civil War

After winning its independence from Portuguese colonial control in 1974, the new transitional regime in Angola faced serious internal strife. There were three movements with distinct ideological and regional roots, supported by different foreign patrons. The MPLA (Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola) had a Marxist orientation and support from the Soviet Union and Cuba; its popular base was in the north and urban areas. Its major opponent was the central FNLA (National Front for the Liberation of Angola), chie›y supported by the United States and Zaire. The third movement, UNITA (National Union for the Total Independence of Angola), was based in the south and helped by South Africa and Zambia. When major ‹ghting broke out between all three movements in July 1975, outside patrons also intervened covertly or overtly on behalf of their protégé groups. Thus, the United States increased its covert aid to the FNLA and Zaire, while Zaire also sent forces into Angola in September. On their part, the Soviets airlifted planes and tanks into Angola and ordered naval maneuvers in Angolan waters, while Cuban troops arrived in October, ‹ghting in support of the MPLA. Similarly, South African troops intervened on behalf of the UNITA and NFLA. The

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deepening Soviet involvement and the overt Cuban intervention prompted the Ford administration to issue several private and public warnings against Cuban-Soviet involvement. The ongoing economic crisis following the Vietnam War and the refusal of Congress to continue its support for the U.S. covert aid to Zaire prompted the U.S. government to withdraw from the Angolan imbroglio. Consequently, the MPLA, which continued to receive Cuban and Soviet assistance, succeeded over other factions and formed a new government. Source: Garthoff 1994, 556–93; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #260.

2. General Deterrence Failure Cases—No EID

(Major-Minor Con›icts: Actors and Sources) 1895–96 French Annexation of Madagascar

France vs. Madagascar Source: Schuman 1931, 122–28; Roberts 1928, 1:377–90. 1895 Armenian Massacres

United Kingdom vs. Turkey Source: Langer 1951, 203–10; Grenville 1964, 24–53; Anderson 1966, 254–59; Marriott 1940, 395–404. 1895–96 Italo-Ethiopian War

Italy vs. Ethiopia Source: Lowe and Marzari, 65–67; Langer 1951, 271–81. 1899–1900 French Occupation of Tuat

France vs. Morocco Source: Cooke 1973, 98–106. 1899–1902 Boer War

United Kingdom vs. Southern Africa Source: Grenville 1964, 235–90; James 1976, 186–206; Langer 1951, 605–26; Gooch 1936–38, 1:217–30; Brandenburg 1933, 135–47; Taylor 1954, 387–90, 401–2. 1900 Russo-Afghan Frontier Dispute

Russia vs. Afghanistan Source: Langer 1951, 668–69.

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1900 Russian Intervention in Manchuria

Russia vs. Manchuria Source: Romanov [1928] 1952, 173–247; Malozemoff 1958, 134–44; Langer 1951, 695–99, 711–17, 781–82; Morse and MacNair 1951, 486–87. 1903 Persian Gulf Naval Demonstration

United Kingdom vs. Iran Source: Grenville 1964, 370–71; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:60–62. 1903 Panama Independence

United States vs. Colombia Source: Munro 1964, 49–64; Healy 1988, 83–92; Langley 1980, 30–38; Langley 1985, 23–26; Schulzinger 1998, 24–27. 1903 Dominican Turmoils

United States vs. Dominican Republic Source: Healy 1988, 113–16; Langley 1985, 27–33. 1903–4 British Invasion of Tibet

United Kingdom vs. Tibet Source: Grenville 1964, 371–75; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:59–63; Monger 1963, 115–16, 140–41. 1906 Akaba Affair

United Kingdom vs. Turkey (Palestine/Egypt) Source: Monger 1963, 296–97. 1906–8 French Occupation of Sahara and Mauretania

France vs. Algeria/Morocco Source: Cooke 1973, 137–45. 1906–9 Cuban Revolution

United States vs. Cuba Source: Munro 1964, 125–36; Healy 1988, 126–33; Langley 1980, 38–43; Langley 1985, 33–43. 1909–12 Russian Invasion of Northern Persia

Russia vs. Iran Source: Gooch 1936–38, 2:302–4.

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1910–12 Nicaraguan Revolution

United States vs. Nicaragua Source: Munro 1964, 204–16; Healy 1988, 152–60; Langley 1980, 49–58; Langley 1985, 676; Schulzinger 1998, 45–48. 1911 Honduran Revolution

United States vs. Honduras Source: Munro 1964, 225–30. 1911–12 Tripoli War

Italy vs. Turkey (Libya) Source: Askew 1942, 23–81; Lowe and Marzari, 114–24; Bosworth 1979, 165–81, 192–95; Albertini 1952, 340–52; Gooch 1936–38, 1:429–38; Gooch 1936–38, 2:140–45; Anderson 1966, 287–91; Monger 1963, 438–43; Brandenburg 1933, 386–93. 1911–14 Occupation of the Dominican Republic

United States vs. Dominican Republic Source: Munro 1964, 257–95; Healy 1988, 192–97; Langley 1985, 117–19; Schulzinger 1998, 49. 1912 “Negro Revolt” in Cuba

United States vs. Cuba Source: Healy 1988, 214–15; Munro 1964, 477–80; Langley 1980, 64–66; Langley 1985, 49–50. 1912 Italian Occupation of Dodecanese

Italy vs. Turkey Source: Askew 1942, 189–215; Bosworth 1979, 184–95; Albertini 1952, 357–63; Gooch 1936–38, 2:238–43, 305–11, 373–81. 1912 Constantinople Issue (First Balkan War)

Russia vs. Bulgaria Source: Langer 1968, 801. 1913 Albanian Boundaries Issue (Second Balkan War)

Italy, Austro-Hungary vs. Greece Source: Helmreich 1938, 418–42; Brandenburg 1933, 449–53; Geiss 1976, 150–52; Taylor 1954, 497–500.

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1913–14 Mexican Revolution

United States vs. Mexico Source: Healy 1988, 171–73; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 1:102–6; Langley 1985, 77–100; Schulzinger 1998, 51–60. 1914 American Intervention in Haiti

United States vs. Haiti Source: Munro 1964, 351–56; Healy 1988, 187–92; Langley 1980, 68–77; Langley 1985, 122–32; Schulzinger 1998, 49–50. 1919 Smyrna

Italy vs. Greece Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #7. 1919–21 Cilician War

France vs. Turkey Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #11. 1920 French Colonization of Syria

France vs. Syria Source: Priestley 1938, 379–84; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 128–31; Northedge 1967, 126–33; Roberts 1928, 2:591–98; Priestley 1938, 369–87. 1921 Panama–Costa Rica Border Dispute

United States vs. Panama Source: Langley 1985, 175; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #19. 1921 Reparations Problem

France, United Kingdom vs. Germany Source: Nere 1975, 33–38; Schuman 1931, 253–68; GathorneHardy 1950, 42–43; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #20. 1922 Chanak Affair

United Kingdom vs. Turkey Source: Northedge 1967, 150–53; Medlicott 1968, 41–42; Lowe and Dockrill 1972, 2:370–74; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #26.

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1922–32 Italian Recolonization of Libya

Italy vs. Libya Source: Cassels 1970, 289–93; Macartney and Cremona [1938] 1970, 70–71, 279–81; Mack Smith 1976, 36–41. 1923 Corfu Crisis

Italy vs. Greece Source: Cassels 1970, 91–126; Lowe and Marzari 1975, 194–200; Burgwyn 1997, 23–24; Mack Smith 1976, 59–60; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 92–93; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #28. 1923–24 Honduran Revolution

United States vs. Honduras Source: Munro 1974, 126–42; Langley 1980, 108–10; Langley 1985, 177–80. 1923–25 Ruhr Occupation

France vs. Germany Source: Nere 1975, 47–56; Schuman 1931, 282–99; GathorneHardy 1950, 51–59; Sontag 1971, 111–18; Marks 1976, 45–54; Northedge 1967, 179–96; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #27. 1924 British Ultimatum to Egypt

United Kingdom vs. Egypt Source: Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 136–37. 1924 Mosul Land Dispute

United Kingdom vs. Turkey (Iraq) Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #31. 1925–26 Riffians Rebellion

France (Spain) vs. Morocco Source: Priestley 1938, 351–52. 1925 Shanghai Incident

United Kingdom vs. China Source: Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 317; MacNair and Lach 1955, 219–20; Northedge 1967, 292–95.

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1925–27 Second American Intervention in Nicaragua

United States vs. Nicaragua Source: Munro 1974, 187–254; Ellis 1968, 252–61; Langley 1980, 116–25; Langley 1985, 181–203. 1927–28 Shantung

Japan vs. China Source: Iriye 1990, 146–47, 195–205; Nish 1977, 156–60; Beasley 1987, 184–88; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 252; Takeuchi 1935, 247–61; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #35. 1928 Sinai Ultimatum

United Kingdom vs. Egypt Source: Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 235–38. 1929 Chinese Eastern Railway

USSR vs. China Source: Fischer 1951, 2:734–38; Beloff 1949, 1:70–75; Sontag 1971, 357–58; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #38. 1929–34 American Withdrawal from Haiti

United States vs. Haiti Source: Munro 1974, 309–41; Ellis 1968, 274–75; Langley 1980, 134–36. 1931–32 Manchurian War (Mukden Incident)

Japan vs. China Source: Toshihiko [1962–63] 1984, 241–305; Iriye [1962–63] 1984, 233–35; MacNair and Lach 1955, 297–337; Nish 1977, 175–83; Beasley 1987, 188–94; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 313–21; Renouvin 1969, 38–45; Sontag 1971, 242–45; Takeuchi 1935, 337–73, 380–415; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #39. 1932–33 Jehol Campaign

Japan vs. China Source: Toshihiko [1962–63] 1983, 11–59; MacNair and Lach 1955, 417–20; Nish 1977, 193–94; Beasley 1987, 199–200; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 321–32; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #43.

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1933–34 “Sergeants’ Revolt” in Cuba

United States vs. Cuba Source: Langley 1980, 138–46; Smith 1950, chap. 10. 1934 Italo-Albanian Frictions (Durazzo Naval Demonstration)

Italy vs. Albania Source: Macartney and Cremona [1938] 1970, 114–18. 1934 Dolfuss Affair (Nazi Putsch in Austria)

Italy vs. Austria Source: Lowe and Marzari 1975, 232–39; Burgwyn 1997, 95–98; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 388–91; Renouvin 1969, 52–60; Sontag 1971, 281–82; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #45. 1934 Wal Wal

Italy vs. Ethiopia Source: See bibliographic references for the Italo-Ethiopian War (EID case). 1936–39 Spanish Civil War

Italy, Germany vs. Spain Source: Burgwyn 1997, 147–51; Mack Smith 1976, 99–106; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 431–43; Renouvin 1969, 87–96; Sontag 1971, 299–304; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #54. 1937–38 Alexendretta Crisis

France vs. Turkey (Syria) Source: Langer 1968, 1088; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 298–99; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #53. 1937–41 Sino-Japanese War

Japan vs. China Source: Nish 1977, 218–34; MacNair and Lach 1955, 441–45; Beasley 1987, 203; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 332–38; Renouvin 1969, 96–103; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #56. 1938 Anschluss

Germany vs. Austria Source: Renouvin 1969, 103–10; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 451–57; Sontag 1971, 332–35; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #60.

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1939 Italy’s Invasion of Albania

Italy vs. Albania (See also above as an EID: Italy—Greece—United Kingdom, France) Source: Lowe and Marzari 1975, 326–31; Burgwyn 1997, 188–91; Mack Smith 1976, 149–58; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 489–90; Renouvin 1969, 145–46; Northedge 1967, 581–83; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #71. 1939 German Annexation of Czechoslovakia

Germany vs. Czechoslovakia Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #68 (for more sources, see the EID case of Sudetenland Problem). 1939 Memel Annexation

Germany vs. Lithuania Source: Sontag 1971, 356–57; Gathorne-Hardy 1950, 486; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #69. 1939 Soviet Occupation of the Baltics

USSR vs. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #75. 1940 Russo-Finnish War

USSR vs. Finland Source: Ulam 1974, 289–95; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #76. 1948–51 Soviet-Yugoslav Rift

USSR vs. Yugoslavia Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #131; Butterworth 1976, #39. 1950–51 Chinese Invasion of Tibet

China vs. Tibet Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 79–82; Butterworth 1976, #68; Tillema 1991, #16.7; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #25. 1951–52 Canal Zone

United Kingdom vs. Egypt Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #136; Butterworth 1976, #75; Tillema 1991, #13.6.

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1952 Macao

China vs. Portugal Source: Tillema 1991, #16.8; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #31. 1953 East Berlin Uprising

USSR vs. East Germany Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #141; Butterworth 1976, #85; Tillema 1991, #5.2. 1954 U.S. Intervention in Guatemala

United States vs. Guatemala Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 94–98; LaFeber 1993, 159–61; Schulzinger 1998, 243–45; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #144; Butterworth 1976, #83, 84; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #37. 1955 Nicaragua–Costa Rican Dispute

United States vs. Nicaragua Source: Butterworth 1976, #99; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #39. 1956 Polish October

USSR vs. Poland Source: Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 248–51; Ulam 1974, 590–94; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #154; Butterworth 1976, #117. 1956 Hungarian Intervention

USSR vs. Hungary Source: George and Smoke 1974, 295–308; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 130–34; Ulam 1974, 594–99; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #155; Butterworth 1976, #118; Tillema 1991, #5.5; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #48. 1957 Jordanian Civil War

United States, United Kingdom vs. Jordan Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 138–42; LaFeber 1993, 201–2; George and Smoke 1974, 329–32; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #157; Butterworth 1976, #116.

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1958 Lebanon Upheaval

United States vs. Lebanon Source: George and Smoke 1974, 338–55; Betts 1987, 66–68; Donelan and Grieve 1973, 135–38; LaFeber 1993, 201–2; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #165; Butterworth 1976, #130, 131; Tillema 1991, #13.14; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #57. 1958–61 Tunisian Military Bases and Bizerta Conflict

France vs. Tunisia Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #158, 184; Butterworth 1976, #132, 133, 190; Tillema 1991, #11.8; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #55, 61, 75. 1959–60 Sino-Nepalese Border Dispute

China vs. Nepal Source: Butterworth 1976, #156; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #64. 1958–62 Sino-Indian War

China vs. India Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 155–59; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #171, 194; Butterworth 1976, #91, 199; Tillema 1991, #17.10, 17.12; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #66, 84. 1961 Bay of Pigs

United States vs. Cuba Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 174–78; LaFeber 1993, 216–18; Schulzinger 1998, 262–64; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #181; Butterworth 1976, #178; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #72. 1961–62 Laos

United States vs. Laos/Thailand Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 106–11; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #180, 193; Butterworth 1976, #139, 140, 141; Tillema 1991, #18.15; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #60. 1962 Taiwan Strait

China vs. Taiwan Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #192; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #79.

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1962 Yemeni Civil War (1962–current)

United States vs. Yemen Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #195. 1963–65 Borneo

United Kingdom vs. Indonesia Source: Butterworth 1976, #212; Tillema 1991, #18.22; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #77. 1964 Panama Canal

United States vs. Panama Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 249–53; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #206; Butterworth 1976, #234, 235; Tillema 1991, #3.7; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #91. 1964 Military Putsch in Gabon

France vs. Gabon Source: Tillema 1991, #7.7; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #93. 1964–66 Yemeni Civil War (1962–current)

United Kingdom vs. North Yemen Source: Butterworth 1976, #216; Tillema 1991, #14.6; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #83. 1964 Gulf of Tonkin (Vietnam War 1964–75)

United States vs. Vietnam Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 99–105; LaFeber 1993, 237–43; Schulzinger 1998, 270–75; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #210; Butterworth 1976, #194, 195; Tillema 1991, #18.15; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #69. 1964 Congo

United States vs. Congo Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #211. 1965 Indo-Pakistani War (1945–65)

China vs. India Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #216; Butterworth 1976, #241; Tillema 1991, #17.14.

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1965 Dominican Intervention

United States vs. Dominican Republic Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 254–58; LaFeber 1993, 246–49; Schulzinger 1998, 278–79; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #215; Butterworth 1976, #250, 251, 252; Tillema 1991, #2.5; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #104. 1968 Pueblo Seizure

United States vs. North Korea Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #224; Butterworth 1976, #271; Tillema 1991, #16.11; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #105. 1968 Prague Spring

USSR vs. Czechoslovakia Source: Donelan and Grieve 1973, 274–79; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 262–72; Ulam 1974, 738–46; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #227; Butterworth 1976, #274, 275; Tillema 1991, #5.9; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #120. 1969–72 First Chadian Civil War

France vs. Chad Source: Tillema 1991, #7.10; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #109. 1970 Invasion of Cambodia (Vietnam War)

United States vs. Cambodia Source: LaFeber 1993, 265–66; Schulzinger 1998, 292–95; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #237; Butterworth 1976, #110; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #126. 1975 Mayaguez Crisis

United States vs. Cambodia Source: LaFeber 1993, 283–84; Schulzinger 1998, 311–12; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #259; Butterworth 1976, #287; Tillema 1991, #18.15; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #153. 1978 Shaba

France vs. Zaire Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #292; Tillema 1991, #7.14; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #177.

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1978–79 Sino-Vietnam War

China vs. Vietnam Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #298; Tillema 1991, #18.29; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #182. 1978–82 Second Chadian Civil War

France vs. Chad Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #304; Tillema 1991, #7.13; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #175. 1979 Yemeni Civil War (1962–current)

United States vs. Yemen Source: Garthoff 1994, 719–26. 1979 Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan (1979–89)

USSR vs. Afghanistan Source: Garthoff 1994, 977–1093; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 319–22; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #303; Tillema 1991, #15.4; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #180. 1979 Soviet Threat to Pakistan

USSR vs. Pakistan Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #306; Tillema 1991, #15.4. 1979–81 U.S. Hostages in Iran

United States vs. Iran Source: Schulzinger 1998, 328–31; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #309; Tillema 1991, #12.10; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #188. 1980 Espiritu Santo Secessionist Fighting

United Kingdom, France vs. Vanuatu Source: Tillema 1991, #20.2; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #192. 1980–81 The Solidarity Movement in Poland

USSR vs. Poland Source: Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 333–37; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #315.

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1981 Gulf of Syrte

United States vs. Libya Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #330; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #196. 1982 Falklands (Malvinas) War

United Kingdom vs. Argentina Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #336; Tillema 1991, #4.13; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #201. 1983 Contras

United States vs. Nicaragua Source: LaFeber 1993, 314–16; Schulzinger 1998, 337–42; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #190. 1983 U.S. Invasion of Grenada

United States vs. Grenada Source: LaFeber 1993, 312; Schulzinger 1998, 339–41; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #343; Tillema 1991, #2.8; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #215. 1983–84 Third Chadian Civil War (1983–current)

France vs. Chad Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #342; Tillema 1991, #7.18; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #203. 1983–84 Sino-Vietnamese Clashes

China vs. Vietnam Source: Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #352; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #211, 218.

3. Direct-Immediate Deterrence Cases

(Major-Major Direct Con›icts: Actors and Sources) 1936 Remilitarization of Rhineland

Germany vs. France Source: Nere 1975, 184–92; Renouvin 1969, 78–86; Sontag 1971, 292–94; Northedge 1967, 426–34; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #51.

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1941 World War II (Barbarossa)

Germany vs. USSR Source: Beloff 1949, 2:355–84; Ulam 1974, 297–313; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #85. 1941 World War II (Pearl Harbor)

Japan vs. United States Source: Schulzinger 1998, 178–82; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #88. 1969 Sino-Soviet Border Dispute (Ussuri River)

China vs. USSR Source: Garthoff 1994, 228–42; Betts 1987, 79–81; Nogee and Donaldson 1992, 260–62; Brecher and Wilkenfeld 1997, #231; Butterworth 1976, #170; Tillema 1991, #16.15; Bercovitch and Jackson 1997, #86.

APPENDIX B

Conceptual and Operational Rules for Major Powers

As suggested in chapter 2, major powers are usually de‹ned, explicitly or implicitly, in terms of one or a combination of three dimensions: (1) power capabilities; (2) spacial aspect (geographic scope of interests or projected power); and (3) status (an acknowledgment of major power status, which should also indicate the nation’s willingness to act as a major power). Each dimension was approached with some methodological dif‹culties in the previous literature. This appendix points to main methodological obstacles associated with each requirement, some weaknesses in their previous empirical applications, and possible ways to overcome them. Afterward, the appendix proceeds with past classi‹cations of major powers for the last two centuries, comparing them to the one used in this book.

Three Common Requirements for Major Powers Power Dimension

Most early writings used capabilities as a single criterion for de‹ning major powers. Almost all historians de‹ne power in terms of military strength. For instance, A. J. P. Taylor wrote that the “test of a Great Power is then the test of strength for war” (1954, xxiv). Quincy Wright and other early international relations scholars shared this view with diplomatic historians: “The acquisition of the status of a ‘great power’ has depended primarily upon military prestige, military potential, and military achievement” (Wright 1942, 1:268). Later international relations scholars, however, tended to de‹ne power in terms of overall human, military, economic, and political capacity (Morgenthau 1948; Organski 1958), although some traditional scholars still emphasize the military aspect (e.g., Aron 1966). Whether it is used as a single criterion or as one of several charac225

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teristics, power potential is almost universally acknowledged as a necessary de‹ning requirement for major powers. The next question that follows, then, is how powerful a state needs to be in order to qualify as a major power. For some, it needs to be at least as powerful as any other single power. Such an understanding has intuitive appeal for many traditional scholars. The prominent French historian Jean B. Duroselle expressed this sentiment in a simple and straightforward way: “a great power is one which is capable of preserving its own independence against any other single power” (1959, 204). A similar argument requires that a major power needs to be as powerful as the coalition of other powers. In his famous essay, Ranke postulated, “If one could establish as a de‹nition of a great power that it must be able to maintain itself against all others, even when they are united, then Frederick had raised Prussia to that position” ([1833] 1973, 86).1 Finally, it is common to specify that a major power “must be capable of ‹ghting a major war” (Modelski 1972, 149). This last requirement is circular since wars are de‹ned as major wars precisely because major powers ‹ght them. Even the previous requirement for a major power to be at least equal to one or a combination of other powers has some problems. First, we rarely ‹nd all major powers roughly equal in their capabilities, even if we allow for a larger margin of power difference, which then challenges the validity of the ‹rst requirement illustrated by the Duroselle quote. Second, the alternative requirement laid out by Ranke and his followers is also problematic. If a state is capable of standing up against a combination of all or several major powers, then this state has to be vastly preponderant. Such a de‹nition implies a world of rough inequality, a very different picture of major powers than Duroselle’s world of rough equality. But if at least one power is preponderant over all other states, then it is not clear what quali‹es any of these other states to also be considered as major powers. To avoid this problem, it is important to differentiate between major powers and the top layer of “global contenders” that are vastly superior in their power and are analogous to the contemporary notion of superpowers. In short, it is widely acknowledged that the power dimension is a necessary and most important de‹ning criterion. But there are two areas of unresolved conceptual issues: ‹rst, there is a disagreement over whether it should be a single criterion; second, the stipulations about the difference between major powers and other states in terms of the power dimension tend to be logically incoherent. This second problem, however, can be easily solved by way of distinguishing between different types of major powers.

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Spatial Dimension

The spatial dimension is an important criterion for distinguishing major powers from regional powers. Despite its signi‹cance, this dimension has been widely neglected in many previous analyses. Part of the reason lies in the intellectual heritage from an in›uential diplomatic historiography that traditionally focused primarily on the European scene (e.g., Gooch 1936–38; Taylor 1954; Gulick 1955). Still, there have been several attempts to specify an extraregional character of major powers. Some scholars argue that a state is regarded as a major power if the geographic scope of its actual in›uence is systemwide, that is, it coincides with the entire scope of the international system. The extraregional in›uence has been attributed as a sine qua non of major powers only since the turn of the century. Arnold Toynbee’s chronicle of early-twentieth-century world events notes that a “Great Power may be de‹ned as a political force exerting an effect coextensive with the widest range of the society in which it operates. The Great Powers of 1914 were ‘world-powers’ because Western society had recently become world-wide” (1925, 4). Others de‹ne a major power if it has the capability to engage in extraregional affairs. Yet another way to capture the spatial dimension is to propose that a state should have extraregional interests, though often extraregional capabilities and interests are both required (e.g., Gochman and Maoz 1984, 605 n.19; Stoll 1989, 136). All three—in›uence, interests, and projected capabilities—are valid criteria. Nonetheless, if any or all approaches to extraregionality were consistently applied, there would be far fewer major powers than commonly found in the literature. Austria-Hungary and Japan, for instance, rarely aspired, if ever, beyond their home regions of Europe and Asia, respectively. The spatial dimension seems to be an important aspect for only those few that have global reach, which along with their enormous power potential, make them good candidates for global contenders. Status Dimension

This third criterion assumes some sort of contemporary recognition of great power status. Only a few writers stipulate that this status should be recognized formally. The status of Great Power is sometimes confused with the conditions of being powerful. The of‹ce, as it is known, did in fact

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evolve from the role played by the great military states in earlier periods . . . But the Great Power system institutionalizes the position of the powerful state in a web of rights and obligations. (Modelski 1972, 141; emphasis added) The criterion of formal recognition seems too restrictive; besides, it con‹nes an empirical analysis only to the period since the Congress of Vienna (1814) when the ‹rst formal recognition of great power status was made. Indeed, Modelski also allows for “informal rights and obligations” (see also Levy 1983), but then the question of what comprises them is highly speculative. It is possible, for instance, to require that others expect a state to act as a major power. Again, the “expectation of others” is a speculative and unreliable criterion. Finally, the last option is to turn to the state itself and its willingness to act as a major power (Domke 1989; Levy 1983). While this is a valid requirement, it is dif‹cult to establish it ex ante. Governments are rarely, if ever, explicit in formulating their willingness to act as major powers. For this reason, scholars specify this requirement in terms of indirect clues such as behavior. “To be a great power is to act like a great power” (Domke 1989, 161). The problem here is that it takes an ex post observation to establish whether a state is a major power, yet a de‹nitional criterion always needs to be postulated ex ante. So far, status is the most dif‹cult criterion to apply empirically. It is left to subjective observation, in addition to some degree of ex post reasoning, to establish whether a state has the status of major power, self-elected or acknowledged by others. This is undoubtedly less than an optimal option, but nevertheless the only available one.

Previous Attempts at Major Power Classifications

There were several attempts in the political science literature to identify major powers in modern history. Singer and Small’s list is most widely used, and it differs marginally from lists developed by other international relations scholars (see table B1). Major areas of disagreement seem to be related to the position of Germany in the immediate aftermath of World War I and since World War II, and that of the Soviet Union during the civil war period (1917–22). There are also different interpretations of the exact beginnings of the American, Japanese, and Chinese great power status. Unlike other listed authors, Waltz considers the United Sates and the

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229

Soviet Union as the only major powers of the Cold War period. It is dif‹cult to accept the idea that the position of these two states in the Cold War system was analogous to that of, say, Austria-Hungary at the turn of the twentieth century. Hence, it is essential to distinguish between those states that have a wider extraregional reach in their interest and the preponderant power potential to uphold it, such as those labeled as nuclear superpowers, from the traditional set of major powers. In this respect, there were far fewer attempts to identify such global contenders, with Organski and Kugler’s list (1980) becoming one of the standards (see table B2). The differences between the two lists of global contenders result from different operational rules. Organski and Kugler (1980, 44–45) considered the three strongest nations in the system as “contenders” using a gross national product (GNP) as a capability indicator. On the other hand, Geller and Singer (1998, 177) used the Correlates of War

TABLE B1. The Lists of Major Powers, 1895–Current Singer and Small (1972) Modelski (1972) Waltz (1979)b Levy (1983) United Kingdom France Germany/West Germany Austria–Hungary Italy Russia/USSR China Japan United States

1895– 1895–1940, 1945– 1895–1918, 1925–45 1895–1918 1895–1943 1895–1917, 1922– 1950– 1895–1945 1899–

1895– 1895– a 1895–1945a 1895–1918 1895–1943 1895– a 1945– 1900–1945 1900–

1895–1945 1895–1945 1895–1945 1895–1918 1895–1945 1895– — 1895–1945 1895–

1895– 1895– 1895– 1895–1918 1895–1943 1895– 1949– 1905–45 1898–

aModelski points out that the status is uncertain for Germany for 1918–25, for Russia for 1917–33, and for France for 1940–45 (Modelski 1972, 144). bThis is an extrapolation from Waltz’s table of great powers (1979, 162) as he used benchmark years, such as 1910, 1935, and 1945, for identifying major powers.

TABLE B2.

The Lists of Global Contenders, 1895–Current Organski and Kugler (1980)a

United Kingdom France Germany Russia/USSR China Japan United States aBoth

1895–1945 — 1895–1945 1895– — 1950– 1945–

sources list global contenders for the period up to 1975.

Geller and Singer (1998)a 1895–1949 1895–1934 1895–1945 1895– 1950– — 1900–

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(COW) National Capability data set to identify “great powers” as those major powers that had a 10 percent or higher share of the capability pool for all major powers. Both decision rules for identifying global contenders have strengths, but they can also be interpreted as arbitrary since they are based on subjectively determined thresholds. Rather than using these operational rules, this book adopts an approach (see chap. 2) that provides a historical survey of major powers regarding all three dimensions in order to determine those with predominant status over other powers. It is interesting that, while the list of major powers developed from the historical survey in chapter 2 (see table 2.5) is almost identical to the standard COW list (Singer and Small 1972), the differences are apparent for global contenders. Whereas my historical analysis indicates that the United States did not play an active role as a global contender until 1945, Geller and Singer (1998) include it for the period following 1900. Also, their year of termination for France as a global contender is 1934, while my historical survey shows that it did not cease to act as a global power until 1940. Besides these few differences, it is safe to say that my analysis, based on a historical survey guided by clear conceptual criteria rather than on intercoder agreement, generally validates the standard COW list of major powers widely used in other con›ict studies.

APPENDIX C

Sources and Data for Colonial Possessions and Foreign Trade

Since the data are available only for alliances and diplomatic exchange, new data sets for colonial possessions and foreign trade were collected for developing the composite index for regional salience. The colonial component was measured in terms of the square mileage of colonial possessions held by each major power. Information was collected for each year during the period from 1895 to 1941. The square mileage of colonial areas controlled by a major power was accrued for each region and then converted into the percentage share of that power’s total colonial holdings. Table C1 presents regional distributions of colonial possessions for sample years 1895, 1913, and 1935. Major sources for colonial provinces and their square mileage was found in two leading comprehensive gazetteers: The Columbia Lippincott Gazetteer of the World (1962), updated with Webster’s New Geographical Dictionary (1995). Townsend (1941) and The New Encyclopædia Britannica (1998) were consulted for detailed colonial histories with the dates of colonial procurement and status changes. The colonial status dates were also double-checked in Henige’s (1970) list of colonial governors. As for foreign trade, there are fairly accessible data for the period since World War II, and the Direction of Trade Statistics yearbooks, issued by the International Monetary Fund, were the primary source for the 1945–85 period.1 The interwar years predictably posed some problems, but the League of Nations’ annual statistical surveys, issued under changing titles, provided much information and are almost comparable in their completeness to the postwar yearbooks of the UN and IMF. Therefore, for 1920 through 1939, the League of Nations’ annual Memorandum on Balance of Payments and Foreign Trade Balances, which was continued as International Trade Statistics after 1932 were all consulted. The available information about annual trade (both exports and imports) between major powers and each independent state in the world was gathered for the period from 1920 to 1985. Unlike the other 231

232

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three indicators of regional salience, the foreign trade score was constructed in terms of average trade between a major power and the region. Namely, although this data set relies on thoroughly gathered information about the individual trade of major powers, situations when national of‹cial statistics were not available for some states in particular years were nevertheless unavoidable. For example, the information about foreign trade between China and North Korea, two important trading partners in the East Asian subregion, are missing for most of the 1950s and 1960s from the consulted sources. This lack of information about Sino-Korean trade certainly skews the information about foreign trade ties between China and East Asian states by underestimating its real value. Despite the attempts at collecting foreign trade data as thoroughly as possible, the completeness of any such data set is, therefore, ultimately dependent on the availability of of‹cial statistics for certain countries and years. For this reason, the foreign trade score was calculated slightly differently than the other three indicators (that is, as an average rather than a total value). The ‹rst step toward calculating the score of a major power’s foreign trade with a particular region consisted of adding up the ‹gures of both exports and imports between a major power and each nation in the region (whenever data were available) to determine the total trade between that major power and the region. This regional trade total for that major power was then divided by the number of states that were included in the calculation, that is, for which data were available. This last calculation provides an indicator of the average trade between a major power X with a region i (let us label this ‹gure as Xi for a region i, Xo for a region o, etc.). The regional average scores (i.e., a power X’s trade per country i in the region i, and so on) were then added to yield the total value. Each regional score was subsequently calculated as the percentage share of this total value of average trade between a major power and the rest of the world. Only in this way was it possible to avoid the problem of having trade data being driven by their availability rather than actual (even approximately actual) values. Table C2 provides sample information for regional distributions of each major power’s average foreign trade (i.e., trade per regional state) for 1925, 1937, 1950, 1965, and 1985.

TABLE C1. Regional Distributions of Colonies (in percentages) Year Region 1895

1913

1935

West Africa Central Africa East Africa Southern Africa South Asia Southeast Asia East Asia Oceania and Australia North America Central America South America Western Europe Eastern Europe Maghreb Middle East Other Total West Africa Central Africa East Africa Southern Africa South Asia Southeast Asia East Asia Oceania and Australia North America Central America South America Western Europe Eastern Europe Maghreb Middle East Other Total West Africa Central Africa East Africa Southern Africa South Asia Southeast Asia East Asia Oceania and Australia North America Central America South America Western Europe Eastern Europe Maghreb Middle East Other Total

U.S. 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 3.1 0.0 0.0 96.8 0.1 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 3.1 0.0 0.0 96.8 0.1 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0

U.K. 5.1 0.0 3.1 12.0 17.9 4.2 0.0 33.9 0.0 0.2 0.9 0.0 0.0 0.0 22.7 0.0 100.0 7.1 0.0 4.4 11.5 24.9 5.8 0.0 0.3 0.0 0.3 1.3 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 44.5 100.0 8.9 0.6 12.1 14.0 30.4 7.1 0.0 0.4 0.0 0.4 1.6 0.0 0.0 0.0 24.5 0.0 100.0

Major Powers France Germany 35.2 24.7 6.5 0.0 0.0 7.4 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.0 1.1 0.0 0.0 24.6 0.0 0.0 100.0 38.6 21.0 5.5 0.0 0.0 6.3 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.0 1.0 0.0 0.0 25.1 2.5 0.0 100.0 37.0 23.3 5.2 0.0 0.0 5.9 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.0 0.9 0.0 0.0 23.7 3.9 0.0 100.0

3.4 19.2 37.5 31.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 9.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 3.3 19.1 37.2 30.7 0.0 0.0 0.0 9.7 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0

Italy 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 26.2 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 73.8 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 26.2 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 73.8 0.0 0.0 100.0

Russia

Japan

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 98.0 2.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0

TABLE C2. Regional Distributions of Foreign Trade (in percentages) Major Powers Year Region 1925

1937a

1950

U.S.

U.K.

West Africa 0.0 Central Africa N.A. East Africa 0.0 Southern Africa 0.0 South Asia 2.1 Southeast Asia 2.0 East Asia 10.1 Oceania and Australia 2.3 North America 12.7 Central America 9.0 South America 8.1 Western Europe 34.1 Eastern Europe 8.2 Maghreb 0.0 Middle East 0.6 Other 10.7 Total 100.0 West Africa 0.0 Central Africa N.A. East Africa 0.0 Southern Africa 0.0 South Asia 0.0 Southeast Asia 10.4 East Asia 11.2 Oceania and Australia 2.0 North America 15.7 Central America 7.1 South America 9.2 Western Europe 29.3 Eastern Europe 5.0 Maghreb 0.0 Middle East 0.5 Other 9.5 Total 100.0

0.9 N.A. 0.0 0.0 8.0 .0. 2.5 10.2 20.7 0.0 6.7 27.2 2.1 0.0 3.0 18.7 100.0 1.2 N.A. 0.0 0.0 7.9 0.8 2.3 12.9 19.4 0.4 7.6 30.2 7.6 0.0 3.3 6.5 100.0

0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 3.8 0.0 2.7 2.8 13.0 0.0 3.4 50.7 1.1 7.5 2.9 12.1 100.0 0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 2.5 2.2 2.0 2.7 12.5 0.0 2.4 40.0 5.8 16.5 1.8 11.6 100.0

U.S.

U.K.

France

West Africa Central Africa East Africa Southern Africa South Asia Southeast Asia East Asia Oceania and Australia North America Central America

0.6 0.5 0.1 1.9 3.4 4.6 5.3 1.9 22.2 12.7

3.7 0.3 1.0 6.1 0.0 0.0 1.6 17.0 15.8 2.9

France Germany

0.0 1.7 0.1 1.7 1.7 0.3 0.5 3.5 10.4 0.9

Italy

Russia

Japan

0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 4.1 2.3 2.6 1.6 13.7 0.0 6.9 42.7 11.7 0.0 1.4 13.0 100.0 0.0 N.A. 0.0 1.7 3.1 2.9 4.8 1.2 5.6 1.3 10.1 40.7 16.9 0.0 3.1 8.5 100.0

0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 1.1 2.7 21.3 0.0 8.3 43.8 3.5 0.0 4.1 15.1 100.0 0.0 N.A. 1.6 0.0 0.0 0.7 0.8 2.5 11.5 0.0 8.1 41.5 12.5 0.0 3.6 17.2 100.0

0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 17.5 0.0 0.0 37.4 24.9 0.0 7.5 12.8 100.0 0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 1.2 0.0 8.0 0.0 14.5 0.0 0.0 46.5 14.2 0.0 7.9 7.7 100.0

0.0 N.A. 0.0 0.0 18.0 1.1 16.5 4.8 41.7 0.0 0.4 13.1 0.0 0.0 1.4 3.0 100.0 0.0 0.0 0.6 0.0 9.0 6.8 25.3 3.4 32.3 0.0 2.6 11.2 0.0 0.0 1.1 7.7 100.0

Russia

China

1.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 3.9 0.0 0.3 5.9 7.7 0.2

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 3.2 1.1 54.2 0.7 22.6 0.6

1965

1980

a1938

South America 18.7 Western Europe 23.7 Eastern Europe 1.2 Middle East 3.2 Other 0.0 Total 100.0 West Africa 0.9 Central Africa 0.3 East Africa 0.3 Southern Africa 1.7 South Asia 3.6 Southeast Asia 2.7 East Asia 12.0 Oceania and Australia 2.9 North America 22.1 Central America 7.1 South America 10.2 Western Europe 30.9 Eastern Europe 1.4 Middle East 3.8 Other 0.0 Total 100.0 West Africa 3.0 Central Africa 0.4 East Africa 0.1 Southern Africa 1.7 South Asia 1.0 Southeast Asia 5.0 East Asia 16.7 Oceania and Australia 1.8 North America 17.1 Central America 9.0 South America 7.2 Western Europe 25.1 Eastern Europe 1.6 Middle East 10.3 Other 0.0 Total 100.0 year for Japan.

8.2 31.6 4.1 7.8 0.0 100.0 3.2 0.3 0.6 6.8 0.0 0.0 3.3 8.7 18.8 2.0 3.9 38.9 5.6 7.8 0.0 100.0 3.4 0.5 0.1 1.9 0.0 0.0 18.7 2.1 19.2 10.1 8.1 22.5 1.8 11.6 0.0 100.0

7.8 41.9 2.3 27.2 0.0 100.0 3.9 1.8 0.3 1.2 0.7 0.7 1.3 1.4 9.6 0.8 2.4 58.3 3.9 13.7 0.0 100.0 2.9 1.2 0.2 1.1 0.6 1.1 2.4 0.5 7.3 0.7 1.9 60.4 4.9 14.8 0.0 100.0

0.0 52.4 18.1 10.5 0.0 100.0 1.5 0.0 0.1 0.1 8.6 1.2 7.1 1.9 5.3 0.0 3.1 34.5 29.0 7.5 0.0 100.0 0.3 0.0 0.3 0.0 5.6 1.7 7.8 2.2 2.2 0.0 3.5 44.1 30.3 1.9 0.0 100.0

0.5 15.2 0.0 1.8 0.0 100.0 1.7 0.0 0.3 0.8 4.7 7.5 32.3 8.2 4.6 0.2 3.9 25.4 2.5 7.7 0.0 100.0 0.2 0.0 0.1 0.3 1.2 5.2 41.1 4.1 16.0 1.2 2.1 16.5 8.5 3.5 0.0 100.0

APPENDIX D

Questions of Statistical Analysis and Discrete Choice Models

In discrete choice models, the dependent variable assumes categorical values. The models are binary if the dependent variable assumes only two values. Framing deterrence outcomes, for example, in terms of success and failure provides a typical case. In this situation, a simple binomial logit or probit model is required for estimations. Most studies of international con›ict use this simple approach by examining whether war is likely to occur or not, or whether international disputes are likely to escalate or not, and so forth. The examples are too numerous to cite them all. In this book, too, tables 5.3 and 7.1 present the models of the onset of extended-immediate deterrence, where the dependent variable was coded one (1) if general deterrence failure led to the rise of extended-immediate deterrence crisis, and zero (0) if it did not. For this reason, binomial logit models were the appropriate method for estimations. If the outcome of deterrence is diversi‹ed to include multiple possibilities, as it is in this book (i.e., either side’s acquiescence, compromise, or war), then the polychotomous nature of the dependent variable requires more complex models for estimation. Since foreign policy choices often involve more than two options or outcomes, the polychotomous dependent variable should be an obvious choice for a number of studies. Still, we rarely ‹nd it utilized in the international relations literature partly due to the fact that the discrete choice models are still in the developing stage. Nevertheless, econometric research has progressed in the last two decades to give us several options when deciding on what models to use if our dependent variable takes on more than two discrete values.1 In this appendix, I provide a brief survey of such models to facilitate a better understanding of the model estimations used in the book. The survey may also help clarify some methodological issues involved in modeling decisions, which could be useful for discrete choice models in future works.

236

Appendixes

237

Ordered Probit. Multinomial logit is the method of choice for this book since the outcome of deterrence is a polychotomous discrete variable comprising four possible categories (AcqDef, AcqCh, Compromise, War). If these choice categories are assumed to be ordinal outcomes, ranking from low to high according to some of their dimensions, then ordered probit or logit would be a convenient method. Ordered probit is the most frequently used method in international con›ict studies when the dependent variable is easily measured on an ordinal scale. For example, an analysis of con›ict escalation from low intensity to high intensity requires an ordinal probit or logit analysis (e.g., Rousseau et al. 1996). If we measure deterrence outcomes in a somewhat simpli‹ed manner, such as that utilized by Huth and Russett (1988) with their distinction between success, stalemate, and failure, the easily discernible ordinal scale for the outcomes would also warrant the use of ordered probit. For this analysis, however, it is dif‹cult to rank the four outcomes according to a single criterion. As an illustration, if the degree of a disputant’s resolve, the Challenger’s for example, is selected as the measure for ordering the outcomes, then the ordered values that range from low (0) to high (3) re›ect increasing levels of Challenger’s resolve. It is fairly easy to group AcqCh and Compromise at the lower end of such a scale as both outcomes indicate a less resolved Challenger, though compromise clearly indicates a relatively stronger resolve. However, the rank order between AcqDef and War can be disputed since it is a function of both the Challenger’s and the Defender’s resolve. A highly resolute Challenger can face an equally resolute Defender, in which case War is assigned the highest ordinal value (i.e., AcqCh = 0, Compromise = 1, AcqDef = 2, War = 3). On the other hand, a highly resolute Challenger can face a less resolved Defender, in which case AcqDef is assigned the highest ordinal value (i.e., AcqCh = 0, Compromise = 1, War = 2, AcqDef = 3). As this example shows, assigning an order to the dependent variable has theoretical as well as methodological implications. For exploratory purposes, I ran ordered probit estimations based on both ordinal scales for all models in each chapter. The results showed a signi‹cant sensitivity to different orderings of outcomes. This suggests that the empirical results should be interpreted as a function of both the explanatory variables and the particular ordinal measures used for the dependent variable. Namely, if the ordered probit test shows statistical signi‹cance for the rank ordering of choice cate-

238

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gories, interpretation of the independent variables is also conditional upon the assumptions implicit in the rank ordering of the dependent variable.2 For this reason, the choice of one ordinal scale over another when measuring the same dependent variable across different theoretical models needs to be theoretically justi‹ed. In the models used in this book, there is no theoretical rationale for a particular ordering of the deterrence outcomes. It is clear, therefore, that ordered probit analysis is not the optimal choice for the analysis here. The theoretical argument in this book focuses only on the independent effects of explanatory variables on deterrence, not assuming any intrinsic ordered nature of deterrence outcomes. If only one explanatory model had been used, which also implied the assumptions about the ordered nature of outcomes, the use of ordered probit would not be questionable. This book explores multiple explanatory frameworks across different chapters, which do not imply any issue related to the ordered nature of deterrence outcomes. Therefore, only the modeling options that treat deterrence outcomes as unordered discrete categories (i.e., nominal variables) would be appropriate. In this respect, there are several estimation options, and multinomial logit (MNL) was deemed to be the most appropriate choice. After presenting the MNL model, I will discuss the basis for its selection over other alternative models for unordered discrete choices. Multinomial Logit. In a multinomial logit estimation, the coef‹cients indicate the predicted marginal effects of each explanatory variable (xi) on the log-odds ratio between two outcomes in each possible pair of deterrence outcomes. The log-odds ratio is computed as follows:

log

[

Prob( y = j) Prob(y = 0)

]

J

=

Σ βkχi

k=1

This expression means that the MNL coef‹cients indicate the effects of an explanatory variable (xi) on the log-odds ratio of the probabilities of choosing alternative J relative to the baseline alternative (outcome) K. Note that the MNL model estimates the effects of the independent variables on the likelihood of having one outcome (e.g., compromise) versus another outcome (e.g., war), requiring separate estimates for each pair of outcomes. As I examine four outcomes (AcqDef, AcqCh, Compromise, War), the coef‹cients are estimated for six possible pairs

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239

of outcomes. For example, table 4.3 in chapter 4 gives the log-odds coef‹cients for the effects of the power variables for all possible pairs of outcomes: AcqCh vs. AcqDef, Compromise vs. AcqDef, War vs. AcqDef, Compromise vs. AcqCh, War vs. AcqCh, Compromise vs. War. Since they indicate the log-odds ratios, these coef‹cients are useful for indicating the sign and statistical signi‹cance of parameter estimates, but they are not intuitively appealing for estimating the substantive signi‹cance of parameter estimates. In fact, all discrete choice models, whether ordinal probit, nested logit, or any other, share the property that their parameter estimates cannot be interpreted straightforwardly in terms of choice probabilities. Instead, additional computations are required.3 In the case of the MNL estimates, to assess their substantive signi‹cance, the probability of having a deterrence outcome J rather than outcome K (a base category), given a set of values in the explanatory variables (xi), is calculated as follows: exp (βj χi )

Pr(Y = J ) =

J

1+

Σ

(1)

exp(βkχi )

k=1

Given J + 1 outcomes, J number of equations are estimated to show the effects of the explanatory variables on producing outcome J rather than the baseline outcome K. The probability for choosing the base case is 1 Pr(Y = 0) =

J

1+

Σ

(2) exp(βkχi )

k=1

The sum of predicted probabilities for all four deterrence outcomes should sum to a total of 100 percent. In table 4.4, for instance, the relative probability p for each outcome occurring, given the same set of values for the independent variable (e.g., power parity), is as follows: Pr(AcqDef) = 18.31 percent, Pr(AcqCh) = 51.94 percent, Pr(Compromise) = 18.40 percent, Pr(War) = 11.35 percent. The sum of these four probabilities is 100 percent. These MNL estimating procedures were used for the empirical analyses in other chapters as well. There are several advantages to the MNL model, and three in par-

240

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ticular are relevant for this analysis. First, like all other discrete choice estimations, MNL is a nonlinear probability model, based on maximum likelihood (ML) estimation. Unlike linear probability models, most commonly estimated by ordinary least squares (OLS), discrete choice models do not assume that each unit change in the independent variable produces a ‹xed change in the dependent variable. For example, the effect of the power variable on deterrence outcomes may be greater if two sides are relatively equal rather than vastly unequal. Second, besides this common nonlinearity assumption of all discrete choice models, MNL has the unique property of allowing that the relationship between the independent variables and each deterrence outcome does not necessarily have the same functional form. For instance, the use of MNL allowed us to see that the change in the distribution of military capabilities or GNP from the Defender’s advantage to the Challenger’s superiority, transiting through parity, does not yield uniform results. The effects are positive on the likelihood of AcqDef or War, negative on the likelihood of AcqCh, and there is a curvilinear relationship with the probability of compromise. Most other discrete choice models would not provide such easily discernible patterns of nonuniform functional form for the relationship between the explanatory factors and each of the four outcomes. The ‹nal advantage of the multinomial model is that it does not require that any assumptions be made about the ordered nature of deterrence outcomes. As already discussed, such an assumption should be handled with care, especially if the sensitivity to different rank orderings is observed when analyzing a variety of explanatory models. The results would be less biased and more consistent across different theoretical models if no such assumption is made (see also Stam 1996). The only disadvantage of the MNL model lies in its property known as the independence of irrelevant alternatives. The independence of irrelevant alternatives (IIA) problem results from the MNL assumption that the relative probability of choosing between two alternatives is unaffected by the presence of additional alternatives. However, the IIA property does not always have to bias the parameter estimates. Whether it does simply depends on the nature of the data at hand as well as on the theoretical model. The Hausman test, as proposed by Hausman and McFadden (1984), is the standard procedure to test whether the IIA property of the MNL model is problematic for a particular empirical analysis (see Greene 1997; Long 1997; Kennedy 1998). It compares the estimators of the same parameters in two slightly different models. One model is unrestricted, comprising all

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choice categories of the dependent variable (i.e., alternatives); the other model is restricted, one or more alternatives being excluded from the original unrestricted model. If the IIA assumption is not signi‹cantly violated in the data, then excluding one or more outcome choices from the model (or, alternatively, including them in the model) should not lead to a substantial change in the parameter estimates. To test for the IIA restriction of the MNL models in this book, the Hausman speci‹cation test was run for all models and all possible combinations of alternative eliminations. The results consistently showed that IIA was not violated, and the inferences made from the MNL models should not be suspect.4 In other words, these results indicate that none of the four deterrence outcomes can be reasonably substituted with another outcome since they are all dissimilar. As Amemiya suggests in his in›uential study concerning the use of MNL model, “so far as the alternatives are dissimilar, it [multinomial logit] is the most useful multi-response model, as well as being the most frequently used one” (1981, 1517). We can safely conclude, then, that the Hausman test provides strong evidence that the use of MNL estimation was not problematic, and was even more appropriate, in this analysis. Although the MNL model is fairly frequently used in econometrics, unfortunately we ‹nd it only rarely used in the international relations literature (e.g., Stam 1996; Bennett and Stam 1998). Since it is reasonable to frame most foreign policy choices as nominal (i.e., unordered discrete) variables, such a slim record of using MNL or other polychotomous discrete choice estimations is quite alarming. If the Hausman tests had failed, however, the only solution would have been to choose one of the alternative polychotomous discrete choice models that do not contain the IIA property. To understand why these models are not a suitable choice for the analysis in this book, besides the fact that the Hausman tests did not fail to warrant their use as modeling alternatives to MNL, I will brie›y outline their basic principles, advantages, and shortcomings. Conditional Logit. The conditional logit model also assumes polychotomous unordered choices. Nevertheless, it is inappropriate for this analysis since it is a choice-speci‹c model. Namely, explanatory variables are considered to vary for different choices, unlike MNL where they are invariant to the choice categories. As an illustration, in multinomial logit, the power variable does not vary according to the properties of the alternatives available to decision makers (e.g., one’s acquiescence or compromise). In the conditional logit model, however, the explanatory variables,

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such as relative power and other factors, are assumed to be choicespeci‹c, taking on different values dependent on whether the decision makers consider to acquiesce, compromise, or ‹ght. Since the conditional logit also maintains the IIA assumption, the selection between multinomial and conditional logit models should depend primarily on whether explanatory variables are framed as choice- or individual-speci‹c in the theoretical model. Conditional logit would be a convenient method if we were to explore, for instance, how much the costliness of actions in terms of the involved use of force affects a decision maker’s choice between different courses of actions. On the other hand, it is clear that the factors of interest in this analysis, such as relative power, regional interests, or domestic regime type, vary only across states, but not across different choices that states have to make. The use of conditional logit is, therefore, inappropriate for the models tested here. Nested Logit. If a multinomial logit model fails the independence of irrelevant alternatives test, one must use an alternative model that permits the interdependence of alternatives. Multinomial probit and nested logit are considered as main alternatives to MNL when the IIA property is violated in the data.5 To specify the nested logit model, originally developed by McFadden (1981), we need to partition the choice set into branches, assuming a similarity of choices within each branch or subset of choices. Most commonly, the partitioning is sequential, dividing the choice set into branches as if the outcome categories represented different stages in the decision-making process. In the context of this analysis, deterrence outcomes such as compromise or one side’s acquiescence do not necessarily represent different stages in a sequence of decisions. Thus, the use of nested logit should be ruled out. Moreover, a number of studies report that different speci‹cations of the tree structure, holding all other factors equal, lead to different results. It is then critical to point out that the decision of how choices are assumed to be nested can bias the estimators. To date, there is no rigorous procedure for testing the statistical validity of tree structures, further compounding the problem of incorporating the sequential nature of outcomes into the analysis. Multinomial Probit. The multinomial probit model allows for IIA to be violated in data, but its computational complexity often limits its use. The model requires an estimation of multiple integrals across separate bivariate normal distributions, which are dif‹cult to compute,

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especially when there are more than three choices (Greene 1997, 912). Also, although the MNP eliminates the IIA problem, it is not free from related restrictive speci‹cations. Namely, it assumes that the errors across choices can be correlated, but computational problems arise if these correlations are left completely unrestricted. The computation of multiple integrals can, in turn, become unfeasible due to the convergence problems. For this reason, it is expected that the values for the correlations between error terms be speci‹ed in order to make multinomial probit computation possible. Note that in the multinomial logit model, the correlation between error terms is assumed to be zero. It is precisely this restriction that gives rise to the IIA problem. In the multinomial probit estimation, we need to specify the values (other than zero) for the correlations in order to incorporate them in the model. Substantively, this means that we need to have a theory that will inform us concerning the numerical correlation between the outcome categories. With the example at hand, this requirement expects us to answer the question of how each deterrence outcome is related to another outcome. We also must decide if the correlations between each pair of outcomes are equal and express them numerically. Such decisions are assumed to be driven by theory, even though such theory rarely exists. The imposition of the restrictions on correlations, therefore, is most likely to bias the resulting estimators. In other words, multinomial probit avoids the assumption that the correlations across terms have zero value, but still requires the researcher to specify their value in order to make the estimations feasible, which is ultimately an arbitrary choice. This again brings us back to the conclusion that the multinomial logit model is the most appropriate for testing the theory in this book.

Notes

CHAPTER 1 1. The term unrestricted globalism is attributed to Walter Lippmann, known for his early criticism of the globalist aspect in U.S. containment policy (see Steele 1980). 2. Since deterrence policy is designed to prevent an opponent from initiating or escalating a con›ict, issues of deterrence are an intrinsic part of theory of international con›ict and thus relevant to both strategic studies and general international relations research. 3. For a distinction between general and immediate deterrence, and other conceptual issues related to the study of deterrence, see chapter 3. 4. A widely used classi‹cation, relevant especially for major power relations, makes the distinction between direct and extended deterrence. Basic or direct deterrence refers to the prevention of attack on the deterrer’s home territory. In extended deterrence, a state attempts to deter an attack on a third party. 5. The term rational, as used here, is identical to the notion of instrumental rationality, which postulates that, if all other conditions permit, actors are expected to act according to their preferences (Zagare 1990). An irrational actor, therefore, is one that deliberately chooses a course of action that is inconsistent with its preferences. In the situation of nuclear balance, the second-strike capabilities of both sides would assure that any nuclear attack would also be suicidal for the attacker. It would thus be irrational for a deterrer to carry out its nuclear threat. 6. See George and Smoke 1974 for an early warning about the errors and dangers of policy prescriptions resulting from a narrow focus on the “art of manipulation” as a major source of deterrence success. 7. For an extensive treatment of these requirements, see Kaufmann 1956, Schelling 1960, Zagare 1987. 8. Commitment theory, as de‹ned here, is also partly analogous to Huth’s notion of “quali‹ed-interdependence-of-commitments.” For the purpose of this study, I do not separate this literature from the research on interdependent commitments, either cross-sectional or temporal, because both approaches ‹nd their original source in the research tradition of solving the credibility 245

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Notes to Pages 16–28

problem of “irrational” threats (Schelling 1960, 1966). However, a detailed survey of the literature with a different theoretical aim than here, such as that done by Huth (1997), could indeed validly point to many ‹ne differences between them. 9. A few game-theoretic analyses also question the logical validity of this argument. Carlson (1995), for instance, ‹nds an inverse relationship between cost tolerance and escalatory behavior. As the disparity between the players’ cost tolerances increases, the less cost-tolerant actor is more likely to escalate the con›ict. 10. There are a number of studies about the effects of bargaining strategies on deterrence outcomes, but most of the examined strategies (tit-for-tat, ‹rmbut-›exible bargaining, etc.) are not speci‹cally intended to change the adversary’s perception about the deterrer’s rationality or, alternatively, to deliberately increase the deterrer’s costs for not honoring its commitments. Research on these strategies (e.g., Leng 1993) is, therefore, distinct from commitment theory as de‹ned here. 11. The quote comes from the address of Anthony Lake, National Security Advisor at the time, delivered to the Council on Foreign Relations on September 12, 1994 (cited in McManus 1994, A1). 12. Quoted from President Harry S. Truman’s brie‹ng of the members of Congress on June 27, 1950 (see Jervis 1991, 20–21). 13. In their comprehensive survey of theories of international relations, Dougherty and Pfaltzgraff (1997, 376) classi‹ed Jervis together with Schelling and Brodie as “more interested in achieving deterrence through manipulating the level of risk.” This characterization was made in the context of the debate between those proposing risk manipulation strategies to maintain the credibility of MAD (including strategic thinkers such as Thomas Schelling and Robert Jervis) and others advocating against MAD as a single strategy that, in this second view, needed to be supplemented with the capability to ‹ght a nuclear war (e.g., Paul Nitze or Colin Gray). 14. As discussed previously, the approach to deterrence credibility as a function of domestic audience costs re›ects the argument about the effects of “tie-hand” strategy, which should not be confused with the “sink-cost” strategy (Fearon 1997). The latter re›ects the logic of what I termed as a “commitment” theory of credibility (see the discussion in the preceding section on credibility and resolve).

CHAPTER 2 1. This passage is also interesting for its concise notion of the Concert of Europe, whose designs are also largely attributed to Castlereagh. 2. For conceptual and operational issues related to each of these three qualifying requirements for a major power, see appendix B, which also provides a survey of previous attempts to use one or more of these requirements


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for identifying major powers. Additionally, it compares several previous classi‹cations of major powers for the last two centuries to each other and to the one used in this book. 3. For further details see appendix B, which also reviews a few previous studies that acknowledge an extraregional aspect as one of key requirements for a major power. 4. Wright (1942, 2:671, table 58). 5. See Taylor 1948, 265. Some provinces had a negligible number of Germans or Magyars such as Bosnia-Herzegovina, acquired in 1878 and of‹cially annexed in 1908 (the 1910 census recorded 43 percent Serbs, 34 percent Moslems, and 21 percent Croats in the province, leaving only 2 percent to other nationalities). For more details, see Tapie 1969, 407. 6. Other indicators also con‹rm a severe gap among regions. By 1910, only 18 percent of the labor force in the Alpine Provinces worked in agriculture compared to over 80 percent in Dalmatia and Croatia. The regional share of national income ranged from a high 34 percent (Alpine Provinces) or 43 percent (Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia) to a low 3 percent (Slovenia and Dalmatia) and 1.6 percent (Bukovina). For more details, see Milward and Saul 1977, 326–27. 7. Ironically, the assassinated Archduke Francis Ferdinand was a chief advocate of the tripartite state and generally sympathetic to the Slavic population. This view often put him at odds with his foreign ministers, many of whom were recruited from Hungarian political circles or presented views sympathetic to the Hungarian concern of having their position weakened by a Triple Monarchy (Albertini 1952, 2, 90, 190–92; Taylor 1954, 450–56, 494). 8. In the Near East, France secured control over Lebanon and Syria, and in Africa, it acquired large portions of the Cameroons and Togoland as “mandate territories” (Schuman 1931, 256). 9. Despite its name, Prussian “militarism” originated as a defensive program to ward off losses such as those the Germans endured in the Thirty Years’ War (1618–48). 10. Historical data for military expenditures are often unreliable for a number of reasons. Wright’s estimates for German defense appropriations fall between the amounts estimated by Hillman (1952) and the more recent Correlates of War project. The difference among these three major data sources for the interwar defense expenditures is substantial for a number of powers with the exception of France, United States, and Great Britain (see table). Military Expenditures, 1937 (in millions of current dollars) Source

U.S.

U.K.

Germany

USSR

France

Japan

Italy

Hillman (1952, 454, table VI)a Wright (1942, 670–71, table 58) Correlates of War (COW) data

1,032 992 1,079

1,245 1,263 1,283

3,298 4,000 4,769

3,446 5,026 3,430

890 909 862

940 1,130 1,621

1,235 870 1,015

aHillman presented the figures in British sterling pounds. The dollar figures are calculated at the exchange rates given in the footnote to his table.

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11. The year 862 is generally accepted to mark the beginning of the Russian state (Florinsky 1953). The view that its great power status originated during the reign of Peter the Great is also widely held in the literature (e.g., Florinsky 1953, 307; Seton-Watson 1967, 41; Ulam 1974, 4). 12. See Milward and Saul 1977, 20, 254. 13. The 1898 war resulted in establishing naval bases in Cuba and Puerto Rico, which consolidated U.S. power in the Caribbean. 14. Kennedy’s well-publicized argument about the “imperial overstretch” that has doomed the United States as much as any previous global power to its ultimate decline (Kennedy 1987) was ‹rst criticized most prominently by Nye (1990). The controversy later found advocates on both sides of this ongoing debate. 15. This agreement was never rati‹ed by Congress as it was too politically sensitive to be presented in the Senate. It was rather a “gentlemanly agreement” by which Taft, with Theodore Roosevelt’s approval, assured Japanese Premier Katsura that the U.S. government would support the Japanese role in the Far East, while Katsura in return promised not to interfere with the Philippines (Kajima 1967, 331–33). 16. Some ‹gures are illustrative: in 1929 China, excluding Manchuria, furnished approximately 18 percent of the Japan’s coal, 45 percent of its iron ore, and 10 percent of its pig iron. Manchuria provided 60 percent of Japan’s coal and 23 percent of its pig iron (Beasley 1987, 129–30). Korean mineral wealth provided also a steady ›ow of coal and iron to Japan’s industry (Beasley 1987, 154). 17. Perceptions by other powers are also important as they indicate to what degree a great power status is recognized by contemporaries. In a number of of‹cial or less formal statements since the early 1970s, Japan has been routinely mentioned as a power. For instance, in his oft-quoted interview in Time magazine in 1972, Nixon enumerated United States, Europe, Soviet Union, China, and Japan as major powers of his times (Kissinger 1994, 705).

CHAPTER 3 1. Notwithstanding these problems in establishing deterrence success empirically, see Harvey 1998 for a comprehensive and useful theoretical discussion of the necessary and suf‹cient conditions for deterrence success and failure. 2. This was one of the core issues in the debate between two groups of deterrence scholars, one using a quantitative analysis of deterrence (Russett 1963; Huth 1988; Huth and Russett 1984, 1988, 1990) and the other advocating comparative case studies (Lebow 1981; Lebow and Stein 1987, 1990). Though both sides acknowledged the dif‹culties in establishing intentions, the debate did not lead either side to question the de‹nition of deterrence based on intentions. Rather, the difference remained, in that Lebow and Stein


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attempted to document historically whether such intentions existed at all, whereas Huth and Russett inferred them from behavior. The resulting “alarmingly low levels of cross-study reliability” (Lebow and Stein 1990, 340) between these two groups of studies should not then come as a surprise. 3. Perhaps for this reason compromise as an outcome was completely bypassed in many previous studies, with the exception of Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992 and Dixon 1994. 4. This typology of military acts is based on the Correlates of War (COW) Militarized Disputes Project (see Gochman and Maoz 1984). The typology is consistent with the conceptual de‹nition of deterrence in behavioral terms as formulated here. Most other deterrence studies have used the COW operational classi‹cation similarly to capture diverse forms of deterrence manifestation (e.g., Huth 1988; Huth, Gelpi, and Bennett 1993), even though their conceptual premise of deterrence was formulated in terms of the actors’ intentions. 5. It is also important to identify the types of actions that are excluded from this analysis. They include the following actions: (1) joint military actions by several major powers against another state, while no other major power seriously objects to this collective action (e.g., the joint intervention against Greece in the Cretan insurrection of 1897, or the 1900–1901 joint intervention against the Boxer Rebellion in China); (2) accidental and relatively quickly clari‹ed incidents (e.g., the 1904 Dogger Bank episode, the 1937 Panay incident, a number of such incidents during the Cold War such as the 1969 EC-121 spy plane incident); (3) a major power’s action within its own territory (e.g., its own civil war, such as the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 in Russia) or that of its colony; (4) a covert involvement that was not of‹cially endorsed by the major power’s government (e.g., the 1984 mining of Nicaraguan ports with the help of the CIA); and (5) increased military assistance during the time of con›ict (this was a frequent resort of superpowers during the Cold War period—unless accompanied by a military act as identi‹ed above, it cannot be considered a deterrent case, but rather should be classi‹ed as a case of intensi‹ed arms transfer). 6. For the sake of the parsimony often required for larger data sets, the operational rules do not include a stalemate. Like compromise, stalemate has often been neglected in empirical analyses, and its inclusion needs to be part of the agenda for future research. Empirically, however, the inclusion of stalemate would not signi‹cantly alter the data set used in this analysis. There were only a few cases that might be considered as stalemates, including the 1901–3 Manchurian Evacuation, 1920–23 Anglo-Russian frictions in Central Asia, and 1939 Nomonhan. Furthermore, since the coded outcomes of these crises are not uniform (respectively, Defender’s acquiescence, compromise, and war), it can be safely concluded that stalemate is not merged with any particular outcome category under the current coding. 7. A slightly modi‹ed version of this list of cases of extended-immediate deterrence was also reprinted in Zagare and Kilgour 2000.

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8. Conventional historical names should facilitate the identi‹cation of each case for readers. 9. Whenever general historical surveys lacked suf‹ciently detailed information on particular crises, I consulted a number of historical monographs about these cases. The full list of consulted historical sources and references is provided in the second part of the reference section.

CHAPTER 4 1. For a fuller treatment of the balance-of-power approach, see Sheehan 1996. Vasquez’s (1997) recent critique of the entire school negatively evaluated its development as a “degenerative” research program according to the Lakatosian criteria of theoretical progress. For rebuttals to Vasquez’s argument, see especially Waltz 1997, Walt 1997, and a few additional responses in the same issue of the American Political Science Review. 2. For an extensive survey of structural realism, see James 1995. 3. Geller and Singer (1998, 70) separate power shifts as “capability convergence or divergence” from power transitions as “a reversal of relative capability position.” Such a conceptual distinction is not made here as both terms are generally de‹ned as interchangeable. 4. Typically, the COW National Capability index is calculated as each nation’s percentage share of the world total. When estimating a major power’s strength, there is a compelling reason to opt for the major power total rather than the world total. While the number of observed major powers is roughly the same for each subperiod (i.e., 1895–1914, 1920–41, 1945–85), the number of states in the world system varied over time. That is, an increase in the world total was due, understandably, to the power growth of states, but it was also often due to the growing number of independent states. Consequently, each nation’s percentage share would marginally decrease with each new state joining the system. An index would thus distort the nation’s real growth over time. To avoid this distortion, the number of states that compose the system’s total must be kept constant. Since the major powers subsystem (as delineated here) is constant in terms of its numerical size across each subperiod, it is a more convenient choice. 5. As already discussed in chapter 3, there were 44 cases of extendedimmediate deterrence between major powers. Some of these cases had more than one Challenger, Defender, or Protégé, which resulted in a total of 70 cases of deterrence dyads as the unit of analysis for the empirical test.

CHAPTER 5 1. The term geopolitics was coined much later by the Swedish political scientist Rudolf Kjellén in his Staten som Lifsform (The State as an Organism) of


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1916. Source: The New Encyclopædia Britannica, 15th ed., s.v. “Geopolitics.” 2. Keal (1983) provides a thorough overview of the disagreements over globalism versus spheres-of-interest policy. 3. For the distinction, see Diehl 1991. 4. Keal (1983) distinguished ‹ve terms: spheres of action, in›uence, preponderance, responsibility, or interest. These notions are not exactly interchangeable as they re›ect different patterns of sphere politics (for others, see Keal 1983, 19–26). 5. The term is attributed to Walter Lippmann, known for his advocacy of regionally “discriminate” containment policy. Ironically, George Kennan, considered an intellectual creator of the global containment policy, also re›ected on this globalist approach with a grain of skepticism in his Memoirs: “All that was really required to assure stability among the great powers was ‘the preservation of a realistic understanding of the mutual zones of vital interest.’ This, too, the Russians understood” (1967, 249). In the Truman administration, rarely did anyone subscribe to this view, opting instead for a globalist perspective. For instance, Henry A. Wallace, secretary of commerce, was dismissed for advocating a more cautious approach to Eastern Europe, identifying it as an area vital to Soviet concerns, as were Western Europe and Latin America to the United States in his view. 6. Only recently have a few scholars attempted to map the political geography of superpower zones of in›uence during the Cold War period (see Van der Wusten 1985; O’Loughlin 1987; Nijman 1992). 7. Even the idea of shatterbelts is not completely comparable to the notion of regional salience, for two reasons. First, political weakness and instability of an area do not qualify for salience as de‹ned here. Second, major power connections with the area, as indicated in the regional salience variable, are not based on the behavioral pattern of its con›ict involvement in such an area. Namely, as the probability of con›ict constitutes the dependent variable, it cannot also be included as a part of an explanatory variable. 8. Historically, of course, many states had different names in various stages of their development. Iran was traditionally known as Persia until the post–World War II period, Northern Rhodesia was proclaimed as Zambia in 1964 (when it became independent), Namibia emerged from the colonial South West Africa, etc. Also, some states emerged through a secessionist process (e.g., Vietnam split into South and North Vietnam in 1954) or, its reverse, through an integration of previously independent states (e.g., North and South Vietnam reintegrated in 1975) or (semi-)colonial possessions (e.g., Cape Colony, Natal, Orange River Colony, and Transvaal merged into the Union of South Africa in 1908, which became an independent state in 1920). 9. Hensel and Diehl (1994), however, subsume almost all of Africa as a single region, whereas Asia, for instance, is divided into three distinct regional clusters. 10. Brecher’s (1993) notion of geostrategic salience is thus very different from the idea of regional salience as used in this study, because it refers to “the

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importance of an international crisis in terms of its proximity to/distance from major power centers and its natural resources” (292). 11. Geographic proximity suggests itself as another apparent indicator, but previous empirical research did not con‹rm a signi‹cant difference between the decisions of major powers regarding long-distance compared to neighborhood wars. Bueno de Mesquita (1981, 166), for instance, found that major powers tended “to initiate a disproportionate share of long-distance wars. This indeed proves to be true, with 89 percent of such wars being initiated by major powers, compared to only 40 percent of neighborhood wars.” Consequently, geographic distance does not seem to be particularly critical for the salience of world regions for major powers. 12. See Huth 1994 for using this method in his cited attempt to examine quantitatively the conditions triggering the onset of extended-immediate deterrence. 13. As was done in the previous chapter, the Hausman speci‹cation test was run to inspect whether the independence of irrelevant alternatives (IIA), which is intrinsic to multinomial logit models, had any substantial impact on the results. The results strongly indicated, with a high statistical signi‹cance, that the data did not violate IIA assumption (see appendix D for further details on methodology and modeling choices). 14. Selection bias is more extensively addressed in chapter 6. This issue, raised only recently in the literature, stems from the assumption that states “self-select themselves” into disputes based on their unobservable resolve. It is argued that the impact of factors relevant for general deterrence success (e.g., balance of forces or interests) is reversed once states enter a dispute and immediate deterrence takes place (Fearon 1994a). Censored probit, based on Heckman’s maximum-likelihood estimation with sample selection, is the standard statistical model to control for potential selection bias. Since it assumes only binary choices, however, it is an inappropriate estimator for this analysis based on multiple choices (i.e., multiple deterrence outcomes).

CHAPTER 6 1. Quantitative studies of deterrence have considered a number of variables, but not the impact of domestic politics on deterrence outcomes. Only an early study by Russett (1963) brie›y explored the relationship between “political interdependence” and deterrence outcomes, though the results were largely inconclusive. Huth (1994) also examined the impact of regime similarity on the probability of extended deterrence attempts. 2. For a distinction between general and immediate deterrence, see chapters 1 (note 4) and 3. 3. As an analytic survey of the democratic peace literature will demonstrate, there are a number of alternative explanations for why the regime type


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increases or diminishes the probability of con›ict escalation. With the exception of domestic audience costs models, none of these explanations was directly linked to the issue of threat credibility in deterrence. For this reason, I stay focused on the audience costs argument when examining the implications of the “domestic interests at stake” in the deterrence context. 4. By one count, there have been over one hundred empirical analyses of the joint democratic peace argument (Thompson and Tucker 1997). See also Chan 1997 for an extensive review of the democratic peace literature. 5. Eyerman and Hart (1996) and Partell and Palmer (1999) produce empirical support for Fearon’s model. While these works are important in examining the validity of the model to predict dispute escalation, they do not strictly examine deterrence situations. However, expanding the scope of the type and outcomes of con›icts should indeed help illuminate the conditions under which different democratic peace propositions hold. 6. To resolve this issue, Rousseau et al. (1996) ‹nd it essential to distinguish between the initiators and targets of con›icts. If democracies are presumed to be paci‹c in general, then they can be expected to initiate fewer con›icts against other states. This would in turn explain prima facie the contradictory ‹nding of a high frequency of wars between democracies and nondemocracies and the low frequency of wars among democracies. Yet, the distinction between initiators and targets can be sometimes questionable since states might preempt in response to the perceived imminence of the other side’s aggressive intent, which, in turn, blurs the line between initiators and targets (Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992). 7. As already pointed out in chapter 3, notable exceptions are studies exploring the relationship between regime type and “peaceful settlements” (Dixon 1994), “negotiation” (Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman 1992), and “compromise” (COW project; see Mousseau 1998). Unfortunately, because each of these studies uses different operational rules for identifying the peaceful outcome, interstudy comparison of their ‹ndings would not be completely reliable. 8. The literature on selection bias is growing rapidly especially since the late 1980s (e.g., see Achen and Snidal 1989 or Morrow 1989 for their initial theoretical statements). The domestic audience model (Fearon 1994b; Smith 1998) is one of recent theoretical extensions of the argument about self-selection effects and implications. 9. This argument is similar to an implication of the model developed by Schultz (1998, 840) that “threats made by democracies are less likely to be resisted than those made by states which do not permit competition.” 10. Jaggers and Gurr (1995) report a strong correlation between their democracy scores and the Freedom House index of political and economic liberties. Unlike the sources for continuous scales of democracy, there are several data bases for democracy as a categorical dichotomous variable (e.g., Chan 1984; Doyle 1986; Ray 1995). A high correlation between Polity data and

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other categorical data sources was reported as well. Bremer, for instance, found a strong Yule’s Q between the Polity and Chan’s classifications (see Chan 1984; Bremer 1993). 11. As suggested by Jaggers and Gurr (1995), the standard cutoff point of +7 on the scale from –10 to +10 was used to differentiate between democratic and nondemocratic Challengers and Defenders. 12. There have been a few attempts to design a single index or at least an interactive term in statistical analysis that would include regime features of two or more actors, while having the nation-state for the unit of analysis. Maoz and Russett (1993) attempted to create a single index, while others used interactive terms in statistical equations (Rousseau et al. 1996; Reiter and Stam 1998). 13. Moreover, if the Challenger is superior in capabilities, the probability of war between democracies is mildly higher than that between nondemocracies, although it is still less than 50 percent.

CHAPTER 7 1. The calculations of the disparity or parity between the Challenger’s and the Defender’s interests in the region of con›ict and their relative regional interests are the same as those used for estimating the variables of power disparity and relative capabilities (see the preceding text). 2. See appendix D for the methodological explanation of how predicted probabilities and marginal impacts are calculated in logit models. 3. To be exact, if the latter method were used, the number of extendedimmediate deterrence cases would be 42, and 18 (43 percent) of these would represent deterrence encounters between the Soviet Union and the United States from 1945 to 1985. 4. I am grateful to Bruce Bueno de Mesquita for pointing to this possible measure for the distinction between “cheap talk” and “costly signals.” 5. Note that this variable refers to the Defender’s behavior in general to test the argument about “horizontal” interdependence of commitments across different regions. As previously noted, the Defender’s past behavior becomes a more signi‹cant predictor of deterrence outcomes only if the current con›ict occurs within the same region. See the preceding section on intraregional aspects of past behavior, though it should be pointed out that cross-regional (rather than intraregional) interdependence of commitments is at the heart of commitment theory (see chap. 1).

CHAPTER 8 1. Levy’s study (1983) provides an almost singular exception to this trend. It is not surprising then that, in the absence of discussion about the opera-


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tional rules for major powers generalizable across epochs, there is much confusion or, at least, disagreement in the current literature about which states qualify as major powers in the post–Cold War world. 2. This argument is implying that most wars are preceded by some form of deterrent actions, which is clearly substantiated in an empirical and historical survey of the cases of major power deterrence and wars in chapter 3 and appendix A. 3. For instance, Huth and Russett (1984) ‹nd that economic ties and arms transfers from the Defender to its Protégé tend to have a strong deterrent impact, but that alliance ties between the Defender and Protégé have surprisingly opposite effects. Since the measure of regional stakes used in this study incorporates both alliances and foreign trade, in addition to colonial possessions and diplomatic exchanges for the earlier periods, the analysis of the impact of regional salience does not address the issue of which elements have greater deterrent effects than others. 4. The term used by Johnson (1994) in his critical study of U.S. involvement in the Third World con›icts since World War II. 5. Scholars seem to diverge in evaluating the foreign policy strategy of the Clinton administration, ranging from the view that it re›ected the paradigm of “collective security” (Posen and Ross 1997, 128 n. 25) to almost the opposite strategy of “preponderance” (Layne 1997, 91). Yet others indicate the decision makers’ confusion about an appropriate grand strategy for the post–Cold War environment and, in this context, point to the lack of clarity about national priorities that results in the ad hoc decisions (e.g., Haas 1995, 45; Joffe 1995, 94). 6. U.S. Defense Secretary William S. Cohen, cited in Gellman and Graham 1998, A01. 7. As an illustration, in an interview to the New York Times Magazine, Secretary of State Madeline Albright famously delineated her foreign policy outlook as being driven by the Munich analogy: “My mind-set is Munich; most of my generation’s is Vietnam” (Sciolino 1996, 67). Since “the lesson of Munich is to get in” and “that of Vietnam is to stay out,” the distinction between “Munich group” and “Vietnam group” is sometimes used to demarcate two groups of advocates in the Clinton administration (e.g., see Sciolino 1996; Dobbs 1999). The Vietnam group was represented by General Colin Powell (later succeeded by General Henry H. Shelton), and the crux of policy disagreement with the Munich group concerned the validity of the idea of interdependent commitments in the post–Cold War world. As reported by observers, “led by Gen. Henry H. Shelton, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the commanders challenged in particular the ‘domino theory’ being pressed in interagency discussions by Secretary of State Madeline K. Albright” (Graham 1999, A01). 8. The following list gives examples of some of the representative literature for each approach. Leading proponents of the global primacy or preponderance approach include Nye (1990), Krauthammer (1990/91), Huntington

256


(1993), and Khalizad (1995). For the grand strategy of collective security, see Carter, Perry, and Steinbruner 1992 or Ruggie 1996. Nordlinger (1995) provides the case for neoisolationism, whereas Layne’s (1997) proposal for “offshore balancing” combines the policy of disengagement with some aspects of selective engagement. The arguments for selective engagement can be found in Art 1990/91, 1998/99, Haas 1995, Joffe 1995, and Nye 1999. 9. I distinguish between “hard” and “soft” versions of the strategy of selective engagements according to the concept of national interests upon which they are based. In its “hard” variant (e.g., Art 1990/91; Joffe 1995), this strategy considers national interests to be vital if tangible factors such as military and economic capacity, including the homeland territory, are affected. In the “soft” version of this strategy, national interests that warrant military involvements may also include nontangible issues such as humanitarian disasters or fostering the spread of democracy (Van Evera 1990/91; Art 1998/99). 10. There is a virtual consensus among the proponents of the strategy of selective engagement regarding which regions are of vital interest for the United States in the contemporary age. These are Europe, the Middle East, and the Far East (e.g., Art 1990/91; Joffe 1995; also Layne 1997, 94, but Layne, as an advocate of an “offshore balancing” strategy that oscillates between neoisolationism and selective engagement, identi‹es even this regional selectivity with the preponderance strategy). Surprisingly, the Western Hemisphere is omitted from their taxonomies of the regions vital to the United States, probably presuming that its relevance has always been implied since the Monroe Doctrine proclamation of 1823. 11. On Germany as a peer competitor to the U.S. role in Europe, see Art 1996. For Japan’s in›uence in East Asia, see Betts 1993/94. Unlike Betts, who limits the discussion to East Asia, Huntington (1996) considers Japan even as a global contender, because he also sees the primacy of international economy in current affairs. 12. Some analysts suggest that the major interest in these situations is to prevent the rise of a regional hegemon. As this study is only concerned with the relations between major powers, it does not analyze this type of policy recommendation. 13. Huntington (1993), for instance, foresees major competition occurring in the economic realm and, consequently, ‹nds Japan to be a major potential challenger to U.S. interests.

APPENDIX B 1. Leopold von Ranke’s equally well-known German successor, Heinrich von Treitschke, provides a similar de‹nition: “A state may be de‹ned as a great power if its total destruction would require a coalition of other states to accomplish” (1916, 607).


257

APPENDIX C 1. As this project of trade data collection was close to completion, another trade data set appeared—International Trade Data 1870–1992 (Version 1.1) collected by Katherine Barbieri (http://pss.la.psu.edu/trd_data.htm). While this alternative data set is highly commendable for its attempt to collect information on trade exchanges between all states in the world, the data for most major powers, especially for the interwar period, are largely missing. Therefore, there is hardly any duplication between my data set and that collected by Barbieri for the interwar years. In addition, my more focused task of collecting data only for major powers’ trade exchanges with other states resulted in a much smaller amount of missing data than the other data sets for the postwar period. If one wished to analyze international trade ›ows for all states in the world, Barbieri’s data set is certainly a valuable source of information. On the other hand, if one wanted to focus on major powers and their trade with all other states in the world, then the trade data set in this book provides much fuller information than alternative sources.

APPENDIX D 1. Amemiya (1981), Maddala (1983), Greene (1997), and Long (1997) provide extensive surveys of modeling options for discrete choice variables. LIMDEP 7.0 and Stata 6.0 are the standard software of choice for estimating such models. Both software packages were used in this analysis as well. 2. It is not surprising, then, that the results of ordered probit tests were inconsistent for different ordinal scales of the deterrence outcomes. 3. Liao (1994) and Long (1997) provide thorough details on the options for a substantive interpretation of discrete choice models. 4. None of the Hausman tests showed that the IIA assumption was problematic. See Zhang and Hoffman 1993 for computational details of speci‹cation tests for the IIA property. 5. In the LIMDEP manual, Greene (1997) suggests additional two alternatives: heteroscedastic extreme value and random parameters (mixed) logit models. At this stage, however, the routines are not completely developed for a substantive interpretation of the parameters in either model. As a result, empirical applications of these two modeling options are quite rare, dif‹cult to ‹nd even in econometric studies. Some further modeling options might be explored in the future when they become more accessible through standard statistical software for discrete choice models (LIMDEP, Stata, SAS) with fully developed procedures for substantive interpretations of the parameters. For example, to incorporate strategic aspects of decision making, several studies used statistical methods such as the strategically censored discrete choice model developed by Smith (1999) or a model based on logit quantal response

258

Note to Page 242

equilibrium (Signorino 1999). Since these modeling proposals appeared only recently in the political science literature, it would be interesting to fully explore their potential for this or other data analysis in future research.

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Index

Page numbers in italics refer to tables and ‹gures. Abdolali, Nasrin, 125, 129, 136 Achen, Christopher H., 253n. 8 Afghanistan, 106 Africa, 38, 45, 247n. 8, 251n. 9 Central, 113, 233–35 East, 39, 113, 233–35 Southern, 113, 233–35, 251n. 8 West, 113, 233–35, 251n. 8 Albertini, Luigi, 31, 247n. 7 Albright, Madeline, 255n. 7 Aldrich, John, 76 Algeciras, Conference at (1906), 29 Allen, Artis Frances, 49 Alliance portfolios, 107–8, 109 Alliances, 76, 84, 86, 104, 116, 128, 131 as an element of regional ties, 114, 175, 231, 255n. 3 Altfeld, M. F., 107 Amemiya, Takeshi, 241, 257n. 1 America Central, and the Caribbean, 113, 233–35, 252n. 13 North, 99, 113, 233–35 South, 99, 113, 233–35, 251n. 5 Anglo-Japanese alliance (1902–22), 43 Anglo-Russian frictions (1920–23), 249n. 6 Angola, 175 Anselin, Luc, 101 Arbetman, Marina, 88

Aron, Raymond, 225 Art, Robert J., 172, 174, 178, 255–56n. 8, 256nn. 9–11 Asia, 17, 37, 45, 112, 227, 251n. 9 East, 42, 43, 112, 113, 176–77, 179, 233–35, 232, 248n. 15, 256nn. 10, 11 North, 113 South, 112, 113, 179, 233–35, 249n. 6 Southeast, 100, 106, 112, 113, 179, 233–35 Australia. See Oceania and Australia Austria, 111 Austria-Hungary, 29–31, 38, 111, 229, 247nn. 6, 7. See also Hapsburgs economic power of, 29, 30, 91– 92 foreign trade, 34 geopolitical (regional) interests, 108, 227 military power of, 29, 91 national capabilities of, 89–90 population (ethnic composition), 30–31, 247n. 5 quali‹cations as major power, 29–31 Bairoch, Paul, 30, 36 Balfour, Arthur James, 103 Balkans, 20, 106, 108, 111, 171, 173 281

282

Index

Balance of power. See also Power balance notions of, 72–74, 104 policy, 72, 74–75 theory, 11, 26, 71–72, 78–79, 84, 86, 97, 98, 250n. 1 Balancing vs. bandwagoning, 74–75, 176 Barbieri, Katherine, 257n. 2 Beasley, W. G., 42, 43, 248n. 16 Bennett, D. Scott, 11, 53, 60–61, 241, 249n. 4 Berlin, 13 Betts, Richard K., 16, 53, 58, 157, 166, 256n. 11 Bismarck, Otto von, 35, 100, 176–77 Blainey, Geoffrey, 78, 84 Blechman, Barry M., 173 Bolshevik Revolution, 37, 249n. 5 Bosnia-Herzegovina, 175, 247n. 5 Bosworth, R. J. B., 38, 39 Boulding, Kenneth E., 102 Boxer Rebellion (1900–1901), 249n. 5 Brecher, Michael, 76, 183, 251–52n. 10 Bremer, Stuart A., 20, 26, 85, 129, 253–54n. 10 Brodie, Bernard, 246n. 13 Bueno de Mesquita, Bruce, 11, 57, 77, 85–87, 97, 102, 107–8, 126–27, 129, 145, 249n. 3, 252n. 11, 253nn. 6, 7, 254n. 4 Bulow, Bernhard von, 35 Camilleri, Joseph, 45 Campbell, Sally Howard, 126 Capability measurement of, 86–88 as a requirement for effective deterrence, 3, 8, 10–12, 21, 98 Caprivi, Leo von, 35 Carlson, Lisa J., 246n. 9 Carter, Ashton B., 255–56n. 8

Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, 27, 75, 246n. 1 Chan, Steve, 253n. 4, 253–54n. 10 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor (Charles I, king of Spain), 29 Chase-Dunn, Christopher K., 78, 83 Chaumont, Treaty of (1814), 28 China, 35, 42, 44–45, 100, 171, 173, 179, 248nn. 16, 17, 249n. 5 economic power of, 30, 45, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 45, 232, 234–35 geopolitical (regional) interests, 45, 177, 179 as global contender, 229 military power of, 91 national capabilities of, 89–90, 90 as nuclear power, 45 quali‹cations as major power, 44–45, 228 Churchill, Winston, 3, 75 Clark, Grover, 32 Claude, Inis L., Jr., 72 Clinton, William J., 172, 255nn. 5, 7 Cohen, Saul B., 99–100, 105–6, 112, 144, 165 Cohen, William S., 255n. 6 Cold War, 7, 13, 22, 25, 33, 36, 38, 41, 42, 44, 46, 53, 90, 103–4, 112, 128, 144, 155, 167, 172–73, 180, 229, 249n. 5, 251n. 6. See also Containment policy; United States, Cold War policy Colonial possessions, 112, 114, 115, 231, 233 Commitments, 12 concept of, 15 interdependent, 13, 14, 17, 154–55, 168, 172, 177, 245n. 8, 254n. 5, 255n. 7 (see also Commitment theory) Commitment strategies. See Signaling in deterrence Commitment theory, xiii, 13–17, 53, 143, 172, 245–46n. 8

Index assumptions of, 13–16, 24, 154–55, 171 critiques of, 12–13, 17–18, 170 ‹ndings on, 16–17, 156–58, 160, 168–69 and interdependent commitments (see Commitments, interdependent) intraregional version of, 158– 60 and “sink-cost” strategy, 15, 24, 160 Concert of Europe, 27, 246n. 1 Containment policy, 3, 14, 41, 101, 103, 245n. 1, 251n. 5 Correlates of War Project (COW), 115, 247n. 10, 253n. 7 COW Composite Index of National Capabilities, 86, 87–89, 89–90, 90, 96–97, 146, 165, 229–30, 250n. 4 Costly signals, 9, 13, 15, 17, 143, 154. See also Signaling in deterrence effects on deterrence outcomes, 158, 160–62, 169 (see also War) measurement of, 155, 254n. 4 Cretan Insurrection (1897), 249n. 5 Crimean War (1854–56), 29, 37 Danilovic, Vesna, 87 de Gaulle, Charles, 7 Democratic peace, 124, 125–32, 133, 134, 136, 253n. 4 De Soysa, Indra, 85, 88 Deterrence between major powers (see Major power deterrence) and compellence, 15, 48–49 concept of, 61, 77, 248n. 2 conditions to work, xiii, 3–5, 9–10, 20, 92, 98, 143, 150 credibility of, xiii–xiv, 4, 10, 12–19, 22, 47, 166–67 (see also

283

Commitments; Domestic audience costs; Inherent credibility) de‹nition of, 12, 56 nuclear (see Nuclear deterrence) outcomes, 56–60, 57, 61, 133, 163–64, 236, 239, 242, 249n. 6, 257n. 2 study of, 4, 47, 58, 143, 179 success vs. failure, 47, 49–51, 54, 55, 55–59, 163–64, 236, 248n. 1 theory, 7–19, 48 Deterrence, types of, 49, 51–52, 60 direct (basic), 52, 53, 56, 98, 245n. 4 direct-immediate (see Directimmediate deterrence failures between major powers, cases of) extended (see Extended deterrence) extended-immediate (see Extended-immediate deterrence) general, 47, 52, 54–56, 55, 124, 131, 145, 252n. 14 (see also General deterrence failure) immediate, 47, 52, 54–56, 55, 59, 124, 131, 145, 252n. 14 Deutsch, Karl W., 76 Diehl, Paul, 102, 106, 108, 144, 251nn. 3, 9 Diesing, Paul, 18, 19, 22, 58, 110, 168 Diplomatic permanent exchanges, 112, 114–15, 231 Direct-immediate deterrence failure between major powers, cases of, 60–61, 68, 164, 183, 224 Discrete choice models, 236–43, 257nn. 1, 3, 257–58n. 5. See also Logit models Dixon, William J., 16, 57, 126–27, 129–30, 249n. 3, 253n. 7 Dobbs, Michael, 255n. 7 Dogger Bank episode (1904), 190, 249n. 5

284

Index

Domestic audience costs. See also Domestic regime type ‹ndings on, 136, 139, 152 as a function of domestic regime type, 23, 125, 127, 131, 132, 167 theory of, 23–24, 128, 130–32, 140, 168 and threat credibility, 15, 19, 21, 23–24, 124–25, 130–32, 140, 144, 167–68, 252–53n. 3, 253n. 9 and “tie-hands” strategy, 15–16, 156 Domestic regime type. See also Domestic audience costs; Regime similarity effect on deterrence attempts, 116, 150–51 effect on deterrence outcomes, 133–40, 151–52, 154, 160, 167–68, 178, 252n. 1 (see also War) measurement of, 132–33, 254n. 11 Domino theory, 14, 16, 17, 25, 171, 172–73, 255n. 7 Domke, William K., 228 Donaldson, Robert H., 38 Doran, Charles F., 84 Dougherty, James E., 11, 246n. 13 Doyle, Michael, 125–26, 253–54n. 10 Duroselle, Jean B., 226 EC-121 spy plane incident (1969), 249n. 5 Egypt, 108, 111 Einstein, Albert, 3 Ellsberg, Daniel, 15 Ember, Carol, 126–27 Ember, Melvin, 126–27 England. See Great Britain Ethiopia, 38, 40 Europe, 17, 29–32, 34–39, 42–43, 54, 76, 99–100, 106, 176–77, 179, 227, 248n. 17, 256nn. 10, 11

Eastern, 100, 106, 107–8, 111–12, 113, 233–35, 251n. 5 Western, 36, 107–8, 111–12, 113, 233–35, 251n. 5 Extended deterrence, 7, 110, 133, 139, 140, 144, 160, 164, 171. See also Extended-immediate deterrence de‹nition of, xiii, 52, 54, 245n. 4 ‹ndings on (see Costly signals; Domestic regime type; Past behavior; Power balance; Regional interests) and major wars, 20, 53 study of, 19, 52–54, 58–59, 98 Extended-immediate deterrence (EID), 57, 59, 68, 155, 236. See also Extended deterrence criteria for selecting cases, 59, 61, 249n. 5 de‹nition of, 56 signi‹cance for studying, 61 Extended-immediate deterrence between major powers, cases of, 60–61, 66–67, 68, 164, 183–210, 250n. 5, 254n. 3 Delagoa Bay and Jameson Raids (1895–96), 66, 183–84 Kiao-Chow, German seizure of (1897), 66, 184–85 Niger dispute (1897–98), 66, 185–86 Anglo-Russian crisis (1898–99), 66, 186 Fashoda (1898–99), 66, 187 Samoan Islands dispute (1898–99), 66, 186–87 Masampo episode (1899–1900), 66, 187–88 Manchurian evacuation (1901–3), 66, 188 Venezuelan crisis (1902), 66, 189 Russo-Japanese War (1904–5), 66, 189–90

Index ‹rst Moroccan (Tangier) crisis (1905–6), 66, 190 annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina (1908), 66, 191 second Moroccan (Agadir) crisis (1911), 66, 191–92 First Balkan War (1912), 66, 192–93 World War I (1914–18), 66, 193 Anglo-Russian frictions in Central Asia (1920–23), 66, 194 Shanghai incident (1932), 66, 194–95 Italo-Ethiopian (Abyssinian) War (1935–36), 66, 195 Outer Mongolian frontier dispute (1935–36), 66, 195–96 Amur River incident (1937), 66, 196 Changkufeng (1938), 66, 196–97 Italian colonial claims (1938), 66, 197 Sudetenland problem and Munich crisis (1938), 66, 197–98 Italy’s invasion of Albania (1939), 67, 198 Nomonhan incident (1939), 67, 198–99 World War II (1939–45), 67, 199 Azerbaijan issue (1945), 67, 199–200 Levant (1945–46), 67, 200 Turkish Straits (1946), 67, 200–201 Berlin blockade (1948–49), 67, 201 Taiwan Strait (1950), 67, 201–2 Korean War (1950–53), 67, 202 Chinese offshore islands (1954–55), 67, 203 Suez Canal (1956), 67, 203–4 Turkish-Syrian frontier dispute (1957), 67, 204 Quemoy-Matsu (1958), 67, 204–5 Berlin deadline (1958–59), 67, 205

285

Berlin Wall (1961), 67, 205–6 Cuban missile crisis (1962), 67, 206 Six Day War (1967), 67, 207 Black September (1970), 67, 207 Bangladesh (1971), 67, 208 Yom Kippur War (1973), 67, 208–9 Angolan civil war (1975), 67, 209–10 Eyerman, Joe, 253n. 5 Fairgrieve, James, 106 Farber, Henry S., 128 Far East. See Asia, East Fearon, James D., 15–16, 23, 124–25, 127–32, 145–46, 154–56, 246n. 14, 252n. 14, 253nn. 5, 8 Ferdinand, Francis, 247n. 7 Ferris, Wayne H., 85 Florinsky, Michael T., 37, 248n. 11 Foreign policy portfolios similarity. See Alliance portfolios Foreign trade, 114, 115, 116, 175, 231–32, 234–35, 257n. 1 France, 16, 31–32, 33, 34, 36, 39, 72 colonial possessions, 31, 32, 233, 247n. 8 economic power of, 29, 30, 32, 37, 41, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 234–35 geopolitical (regional) interests, 108, 111 as global contender, 31, 32, 46, 229, 230 military power of, 41, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89–90, 90 as nuclear power, 32 quali‹cations as major power, 31–32 Franco-Prussian War (1870–71), 31, 35, 53

286

Index

Frederick William I, 34, 226 Freedman, Lawrence, 7, 10 Garnham, David A., 85 Geiss, Imanuel, 35 Geller, Daniel S., 11, 85, 229–30, 250n. 3 Gellman, Barton, 255n. 6 Gelpi, Christopher, 11, 53, 60–61, 249n. 4 General deterrence failure (majorminor con›icts), cases of, 60–61, 62–65, 164, 183, 210–24 Geographic distance, 102, 116, 251–52n. 10, 252n. 11 Geopolitical regions, 106, 111–12, 113, 251n. 9. See also individual entries for regions Geopolitics old school, 90–100, 101 new school, 99, 100–102 study of, 23, 150, 165, 250–51n. 1 George, Alexander L., 4, 16, 18, 22, 48–54, 58, 110, 157, 168–70, 245n. 6 Germany, 20, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34–36, 37, 39, 40, 43, 44, 46, 53, 77, 90, 99, 100, 155, 170, 179, 247n. 9. See also Prussia economic power of, 30, 32, 33, 36, 37, 39, 41, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 34, 35, 36, 40, 234 geopolitical (regional) interests, 177, 256n. 11 as global contender, 26, 35, 229 military power of, 35–36, 37, 41, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89, 89–90, 90 quali‹cations as major power, 34–36, 228 Geva, Nehemia, 126 Gilpin, Robert, 72, 78–81, 104–5

Global contenders, 27, 88, 93, 163, 226. See also Major powers criteria for identifying, 28–29, 46, 227 ‹ndings on, 96–97 lists of, 46, 229, 229–30 Global cycles theory, 78, 81–82, 93 Gochman, Charles S., 20, 26, 85–86, 227, 249n. 4 Goertz, Gary, 108, 144 Goldstein, Joshua, 78, 82 Gooch, G. P., 100, 227 Good, David F., 31 Gowa, Joanne, 128 Graham, Bradley, 255nn. 6, 7 Grand strategy, 25, 172, 255n. 5. See also Selective engagement strategy; United States, grand strategy Gray, Colin S., 10, 246n. 13 Great Britain, 31, 32–34, 35, 36, 37, 40, 155 economic power of, 30, 33, 34, 37, 41, 91–92 foreign trade, 33, 34, 35, 40, 43–44, 234–35 geopolitical (regional) interests, 99, 108, 111–12 as global contender, 33–34, 46, 229 military power of, 33, 35, 41, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89, 89–90, 90 as nuclear power, 34 quali‹cations as major power, 32–34 Greece, 111–12 Greene, William H., 240, 243, 257n. 1, 257–58n. 5 Guicciardini, Francesco, 72 Gulick, Edward V., 227 Gurr, Ted Robert, 132–33, 134, 253–54n. 10, 254n. 11

Index

287

Haas, Ernst B., 73 Haas, Richard N., 5, 172, 174, 255n. 5, 255–56n. 8 Hague Peace Conference, Second (1907), 40 Haiti, 17, 172–73, 175 Hapsburgs, 29, 31. See also AustriaHungary Hart, Robert A., Jr., 253n. 5 Hartshorne, Richard, 106 Harvey, Frank P., 248n. 1 Hausman, Jerry, 240–41, 252n. 13, 257n. 4 Hegemonic decline, theory of, 78, 79–80, 93, 105 Henige, David P., 231 Hensel, Paul R., 106, 251n. 9 Hillmann, H. C., 41, 247n. 10 Hinsley, F. H., 40, 41, 42 Hitler, Adolf, 43 Hoffman, G. W., 106 Hoffman, Saul D., 257n. 4 Hohenlohe-Landenburg, Chlodwig zu, 35 Holbrooke, Richard, 172 Hopf, Ted, 16, 76, 173 Houweling, Henk, 85 Howell, Peter D., 49 Hudson, Geoffrey F., 103 Hume, David, 72 Hungary, 111 Huntington, Samuel P., 255–56n. 8, 256nn. 11, 13 Huth, Paul, 11, 13, 16, 19, 20, 22, 49–53, 58, 60–61, 98, 110, 112, 116, 145, 155, 158, 168–69, 237, 245–46n. 8, 248–49n. 2, 249n. 4, 252nn. 12, 1, 255n. 3

concept of, 22 and deterrence stability, 19–20, 21, 98 and issues at stake, 16, 19, 22, 98, 144, 168–69, 170 (see also Issues at stake) and national interests, 4–5, 9, 19, 20, 144, 170–71, 174 and regional interests, 4, 19, 21, 22, 25, 98–99, 109–10, 112, 116–17, 123, 143, 144–46, 164, 165, 167, 179 Inherent credibility theory, 13, 17–19, 143 assumptions of, 17, 144–45 ‹ndings on, 145–54, 158, 160, 168–69 Intrinsic interests, 13, 22, 109, 112, 167, 168, 170–71, 174. See also Inherent credibility Iran, 106, 111, 179, 251n. 8 Iraq, 111, 172–73, 179 Issues at stake, 12, 109, 110, 124, 128, 132. See also Inherent credibility Italo-Ethiopian War (1935–36), 40 Italy, 29, 38–39, 43, 72, 75 colonial possessions, 38–39, 233 economic power of, 29, 30, 38–39, 41, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 234 geopolitical (regional) interests, 111 military power of, 38, 41, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89–90 quali‹cations as major power, 38–39

India, 100, 111 Inherent credibility, xiii–xiv, 4, 24, 53, 172. See also Deterrence, credibility of; Intrinsic interests approaches to, 17–19

Jaggers, Keith, 132–33, 134, 253–54n. 10, 254n. 11 James, Patrick, 76, 77, 250n. 2 Japan, 40, 42–44, 46, 53, 155, 177, 179, 248n. 17, 256n. 13

288

Index

Japan (continued) colonial possessions, 43, 233, 248n. 16 economic power of, 29, 30, 37, 41, 91–92, 248n. 16 foreign trade, 34, 43–44, 234 geopolitical (regional) interests, 43, 227, 248n. 15, 256n. 11 as global contender, 44, 229, 256n. 11 military power of, 41, 43, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89–90, 90 quali‹cations as major power, 36, 42–44, 228 Jervis, Robert, 5, 13, 15, 16, 17–19, 22, 48, 51, 110, 154, 168, 170–71, 180, 246nn. 12, 13 Joffe, Josef, 176, 179, 255n. 5, 255–56n. 8, 256nn. 9, 10 Johnson, Robert H., 5, 175, 178, 180, 255n. 4 Kahn, Herman, 7, 10, 13, 14, 48, 54 Kajima, Morinosuke, 42, 248n. 15 Kaplan, Morton, 79 Karsten, Peter, 49 Katsura, Taro, 248n. 15 Kaufmann, William, 9, 12, 18, 23, 48–49, 124, 167, 245n. 7 Keal, Paul, 103, 251nn. 2, 4 Kelly, Philip, 106, 112 Kennan, George F., 101, 251n. 5 Kennedy, Paul, 26, 33, 34, 36, 42, 43, 44, 72, 80, 248n. 14 Kennedy, Peter, 240 Khalizad, Zalmay, 179, 255–56n. 8 Kiao-Chow, German seizure of (1897), 35 Kilgour, D. Marc, 11, 13, 52–53, 58, 249n. 7 Kim, Woosang, 85–87, 107 Kissinger, Henry, 10, 45, 50–51, 75, 248n. 17 Kjellen, Rudolf, 250–51n. 1

Kondratieff waves, 78, 82 Korea, 42, 106, 248n. 16 North, 171, 232 Korean War (1950–53), 44 Krauthammer, Charles, 255–56n. 8 Kugler, Jacek, 11, 44, 58, 71–72, 78–79, 81, 85–88, 109, 229 La Feber, Walter, 42 Lake, Anthony, 246n. 11 Lake, David A., 126 Lalman, David, 57, 77, 85–87, 107, 126, 129, 249n. 3, 253nn. 6, 7 Lausanne Conference (1932), 40 Layne, Christopher, 16, 173–74, 255n. 5, 255–56n. 8, 256n. 10 League of Nations, 31, 35, 39, 40, 42, 43 Lebanon, 108, 247n. 8 Lebow, Richard Ned, 48, 50, 52, 54, 58, 248–49n. 2 Lemke, Douglas, 85, 87–88, 108–9 Leng, Russell J., 16, 246n. 10 Levy, Jack S., 27, 36, 42, 76, 228, 254–55n. 1 Liao, Tim Futing, 257n. 2 Libya, 38 Lippmann, Walter, 101, 245n. 1, 251n. 5 Locarno Conference (1925), 35, 40 Logit models. See also Discrete choice models binomial, 118, 236 multinomial, 93, 121, 125, 133, 148, 237, 238–41, 242, 243, 252n. 13 London, Conference of (1930), 41 Long, J. Scott, 241, 257nn. 1, 2 Louis XIV, 31 Machiavelli, Niccolò, 72, 75 Mackinder, Halford J., 100 Mack Smith, Denis, 39 Maddala, G. S., 257n. 1

Index Maddison, Angus, 30, 88 Maghreb, 111, 113, 233–35. See also Middle East Mahan, Alfred T., 99–100 Major power deterrence, 4, 12, 16, 52–53, 58, 60–68, 143, 164, 180 Major powers, 5–6. See also entries for individual major power nations criteria for identifying, 27, 28, 45–46, 163, 225–28, 254–55n. 1, 256n. 1 and geopolitics, 99–100 as global contenders (see Global contenders) lists of, 26–27, 36, 42, 228–30, 229 origin of the term “great power,” 27–28 and power distribution (see Power balance) signi‹cance of, xiii, 20, 26, 163 study of, 26 Major power war, 77–78, 80, 82, 252n. 11 Manchuria, 248n. 16 Manchurian crisis (Mukden incident, 1931), 42, 43 Manchurian evacuation (1901–3), 66, 188, 249n. 6 Mans‹eld, Edward D., 76, 85 Mao Zedong, 45 Maoz, Zeev, 20, 26, 125–27, 129, 136, 227, 249n. 4, 254n. 12 Marks, Sally, 35, 43 Maxwell, Stephen, 12, 13, 17, 18, 168, 170 May, Ernest R., 40 McFadden, Daniel, 240, 242 McKinley, William, 40 McMahon, Robert J., 173 McManus, Doyle, 246n. 11 Mearsheimer, John J., 58 Medici, Lorenzo, 72, 75 Mercer, Jonathan, 16

289

Merritt, Richard L., 88 Metternich, Clemens, 75 Middle East, 100, 106, 108, 111–12, 113, 177, 233–35, 256n. 10. See also Maghreb; Near East Midlarsky, Manus I., 78, 84–85 Militarized Interstate Disputes (MID) Project, 57, 251n. 4 Miller, Ross A., 79 Milward, Alan S., 247n. 6, 248n. 12 Mintz, Alex, 126 Modelski, George, 72, 78–79, 81, 226, 227–28, 229 Morgan, Patrick M., 52, 55, 170 Morgan, T. Clifton, 126–27, 129 Morgenthau, Hans J., 26, 71–78, 104, 166, 225 Moroccan crisis, ‹rst (1905–6), 40, 66, 190 Morrow, James D., 85–87, 107, 126–27, 145, 253n. 8 Most, Benjamin J., 102 Moul, William G., 85 Mousseau, Michael, 57, 253n. 7 Munich Conference (1938), 40 Mussolini, Benito, 39, 43 Mutual assured destruction (MAD), 3, 7, 8, 154 Namibia, 251n. 8 Napoleon I, 33 Napoleonic Wars (1803–15), 26, 31, 85 National interests, 3, 4–6, 7–8, 18 and inherent resolve (see Inherent credibility) and regional interests, xiv, 4, 109, 144, 170–71 vital, 5, 7, 13, 17, 25, 101, 117, 170, 171, 179, 251n. 5 (see also Selective engagement strategy) vital vs. peripheral, 5, 173, 177 Near East, 17, 111, 247n. 8. See also Middle East

290

Index

Neorealism. See Realism, structural Netherlands, 31 Nierop, T., 106 Nijman, Jan, 251n. 6 Niou, Emerson M. S., 76 Nish, Ian, 42 Nitze, Paul, 246n. 13 Nixon, Richard, 45, 248n. 16 Nogee, Joseph L., 38 Nomonhan incident (1939), 67, 198–99, 249n. 6 Nordlinger, Eric A., 255–56n. 8 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 36, 43, 171–72 Northedge, F. S., 33 NSC-68, 41 Nuclear deterrence, 7, 10–11, 51, 165. See also Mutual assured destruction credibility of, 7–8, 10, 13–14, 143, 154, 169–70, 172 and rationality, 7–9, 14, 169, 172 Nuclear weapons, 46 deterrent value of, 10, 22 Nye, Joseph S., 5, 173–74, 248n. 14, 255–56n. 8 Oceania and Australia, 99, 113, 233–35 O’Loughlin, John, 101, 251n. 6 Oneal, John R., 85, 88, 129 Ordeshook, Peter C., 76 Oren, Ido, 114 Organski, A. F. K., 11, 44, 58, 71–72, 74, 77–79, 81, 85–88, 225, 229 Ostrom, Charles Jr., 76 Paci‹c, 40. See also Asia, East; Asia, Southeast; Oceania and Australia Palmer, Glenn, 253n. 5 Panay incident (1937), 249n. 5 Paris, Peace of (1856), 29

Park, Yong-Hee, 85, 88 Partell, Peter J., 253n. 5 Past behavior, 14, 22, 154–55 effect on deterrence outcomes, 16, 156–57, 160, 162 measurement of, 155 Pax Americana, 77 Pax Britannica, 33, 77–78 Pearl Harbor, attack on (1941), 20, 40 Perry, William J., 255–56n. 8 Persia. See Iran Persian Gulf War, 172 Peter I (the Great), 36, 248n. 11 Pfaltzgraff, Robert L., 11, 246n. 13 Philippines, 40, 248n. 15 Poland, 20 Polarity bipolarity vs. multipolarity, 75–76 ‹ndings on, 76–77 Political similarity. See Regime similarity Polity project, 132–33, 253n. 10 Portsmouth (New Hampshire) Conference (1905), 42 Posen, Barry R., 5, 174–75, 178, 255n. 5 Post–Cold War, 6, 110, 254–55n. 1. See also Grand strategy; Selective engagement strategy; United States, post–Cold War policy Powell, Colin, 255n. 7 Powell, Robert, 15, 76, 154 Power balance, 11, 144. See also Balance of power; Capability; Power shift approaches between major powers, 88–91, 92 and deterrence stability, 21–22, 128, 132, 164, 179–80 effect on deterrence attempts, 145–47, 150 effect on deterrence outcomes, 71, 93–97, 121, 124, 128, 131–32,

Index 145, 147–50, 151, 160, 165–66, 239–40 (see also War) measurement of, 92–93, 148, 250n. 4 Power distribution. See Power balance Power shift approaches, 11, 71–72, 77–78, 80, 82, 83–85, 93, 95, 97, 98, 250n. 3. See also Global cycles theory; Hegemonic decline, theory of; Power transition Power transition ‹ndings on, 85–87 theory, 71–72, 77, 78–79, 93, 109, 250n. 3 Prussia, 31, 34, 35, 226, 247n. 9. See also Germany Quester, George H., 49, 53 Ranke, Leopold von, 27, 226, 256n. 1 Rastadt, Treaty of (1714), 33 Rationality, de‹nition of, 245n. 5 Ratzel, Friedrich, 99 Ray, James Lee, 125, 136, 253–54n. 10 Realism, 3, 8, 11, 26, 127, 128, 165 classical, 75, 78 structural (neorealism), 75–77, 250n. 2 Reed, William, 87 Regime similarity, and international con›ict, 133, 139, 167–68 Regional interests. See also Spheres of interest concept of, 4, 107–8, 109, 175, 251n. 7, 251–52n. 10 effect on deterrence attempts, 116–21, 123, 145–47, 150, 164–65 effect on deterrence outcomes, 121–23, 145–46, 147–50, 151,

291

158, 160, 164–65, 168, 178 (see also War) and inherent resolve (see Inherent credibility) measurement of, 112, 114–16, 231, 254n. 1 and national interests (see National interests) role in major power rivalry, 100–102, 103, 106, 110, 144, 251n. 5 as a tenet of selective engagement, 175–80, 256n. 10 (see also Selective engagement strategy) and threat credibility, 22–23, 125 (see also Inherent credibility) Regional salience. See Regional interests Reiter, Dan, 254n. 12 Reputational interests, 3, 5, 7–8, 14, 16–17, 21, 110, 155, 158, 160, 167, 168, 169–70, 171, 172, 178, 180. See also Commitments; Costly signals; Signaling in deterrence Riker, William H., 11 Ritter, Jeffrey M., 107–8 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 40 Roosevelt, Theodore, 40, 248n. 15 Rose, Gregory F., 76 Ross, Andrew, 5, 174–75, 178, 255n. 5 Rousseau, David L., 128–29, 237, 253n. 6, 254n. 12 Ruggie, John Gerard, 255–56n. 8 Rummel, Rudolph J., 125–26 Russett, Bruce, 11, 19, 22, 49–53, 58, 60–61, 98, 110, 112, 125–27, 129, 145, 155, 168–69, 237, 248–49n. 2, 252n. 1, 254n. 12, 255n. 3 Russia, 13, 16, 20, 30, 31, 36–38, 40, 41, 44, 45, 46, 53, 99–100, 105, 167, 170, 171, 173, 179, 248nn. 1, 17, 249n. 5, 254n. 3

292

Index

Russia (continued) economic power of, 30, 32, 37–38, 41, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 37, 234–35 geopolitical (regional) interests, 31, 43, 107–8, 111–12, 177, 251n. 5 as global contender, 38, 46, 229 military power of, 37, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 88–89, 89–90, 90 as nuclear power, 38 quali‹cations as major power, 36–38, 228–29 Russo-Japanese War (1904–5), 20, 42 Saul, S. B., 247n. 6, 248n. 12 Schelling, Thomas C., 12–15, 17, 18, 19, 48–49, 53, 154, 156, 170, 245n. 7, 245–46n. 8, 246n. 13 Schlesinger, Arthur, Jr., 103–4 Schultz, Kenneth A., 15, 23, 125, 127, 132, 253n. 9 Schulzinger, Robert D., 39–40 Schuman, Frederick L., 247n. 8 Schwarz, Benjamin, 16, 173 Schwebach, Valerie L., 126–27, 129 Schweller, Randall L., 75 Sciolino, Elaine, 255n. 7 Selection effects, 121–22, 124, 127, 131–32, 145, 147, 252n. 14, 253n. 8 Selective engagement strategy, 110, 174 geopolitical version of, 175–79 (see also Regional interests) vs. global primacy, 176, 178–80 “hard” vs. “soft” version, 175–76, 256n. 9 and vital national interests, 174, 180, 257n. 9 Seton-Watson, Hugh, 37, 248n. 11 Seven Years’ War (1756–63), 34–35 Shanghai incident (1932), 66, 155, 194–95

Shatterbelts, 99, 102, 103, 105–7, 109, 112, 144, 251n. 7 Sheehan, Michael, 250n. 1 Shelton, General Henry H., 255n. 7 Siam. See Thailand Siccama, Jan, 85 Signaling in deterrence, 5, 7, 13, 21, 24. See also Commitments; Costly signals; Reputational interests ‹ndings on, 16, 169, 179 notions of, 17–18, 19, 156 and “sink-cost” strategy, 15–16, 24, 155 techniques, 3, 14–16, 154–55 Signorino, Curtis S., 107–8, 257–58n. 5 Singer, J. David, 20, 26, 27, 36, 42, 44, 65, 67, 76, 85, 87, 114–15, 126, 228–30, 250n. 3 Sino-Indian con›icts (1959–62), 45 Sino-Japanese War (1894–95), 42, 44 Siverson, Randolph M., 79, 85, 102, 126–27, 145 Small, Melvin, 20, 26, 27, 36, 42, 44, 65, 67, 114–15, 126, 228, 230 Smith, Alastair, 15, 23, 125–27, 130–31, 145, 253n. 8, 257–58n. 5 Smoke, Richard, 16, 18, 22, 48–54, 58, 110, 157, 168–70, 245n. 6 Snidal, Duncan, 253n. 8 Snyder, Glenn H., 18, 19, 22, 48–49, 53–54, 58, 110, 168 Somalia, 172 South Africa, Union of, 251n. 8 Soviet Union. See Russia Spain, 29, 32, 111 Spanish-American War (1898), 39, 40, 248n. 13 Spanish civil war (1936–39), 40 Spheres of interest, 42, 80, 101, 103–5, 251n. 4 vs. “indiscriminate” globalist policy, 101, 103–4, 112, 251nn. 2, 5

Index and regional interests, 99, 109, 117, 144 role in major power rivalry, 102, 103, 105, 109, 110 Spiezio, K. Edward, 85 Sprout, Herbert, 101–2 Sprout, Margaret, 101–2 Spykman, Nicholas, 100 Stalin, Joseph, 37 Stam, Allan C., 240–41, 254n. 12 Starr, Harvey, 102 Steele, Ronald, 245n. 1 Stein, Janice Gross, 48, 50, 52, 54, 58, 248–49n. 2 Steinbruner, John D., 255–56n. 8 Stoll, Richard J., 36, 44, 227 Stresemann, Gustav, 35 Stuckley, John., 85 Sudan, 111, 175 Sweden, 34 Syria, 108, 247n. 8 Taft, William Howard, 248n. 15 Taft-Katsura Agreement (1905), 43 Taiwan, 171 Taiwanese crisis (1996), 173 Tapie, Victor-L., 247n. 5 Taylor, A. J. P., 26, 31, 35, 103, 225, 227, 247nn. 5, 7 Tennefoss, Michael R., 85 Thailand, 106 Thirty Years’ War (1618–48), 33, 247n. 9 Thompson, William R., 72, 76, 78–79, 81, 85, 100, 253n. 4 Thucydides, 71, 72 Tirpitz, Alfred von, 35 Townsend, Mary Evelyn, 32, 35, 39, 115, 231 Toynbee, Arnold J., 227 Treitschke, Heinrich von, 256n. 1 Truman, Harry, 17, 246n. 12, 251n. 5 Truman Doctrine, 41

293

Tucker, Richard N., 253n. 4 UK. See Great Britain Ulam, Adam B., 37, 44, 248n. 11 United Nations, 173 Security Council, 32, 34, 36 United States, 7, 10, 13, 18, 20, 33, 39–42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 53, 54, 100, 105, 155, 167, 170, 245n. 1, 248n. 17, 254n. 3, 255n. 4, 256nn. 11, 13 Cold War policy, 3, 16–17, 101, 103, 107, 157 (see also Containment policy; Domino theory) economic power of, 30, 33, 36, 37, 40–41, 91–92 foreign trade, 34, 40, 43–44, 234–35 geopolitical (regional) interests, 40, 107–8, 176–77, 248nn. 13, 15, 251n. 5, 256n. 10 as global contender, 41–42, 38, 46, 229, 230, 248n. 14 grand strategy, policy prescriptions, 5, 174–80, 255–56n. 8, 256n. 10 military power of, 40–41, 91, 247n. 10 national capabilities of, 89–90, 90 as nuclear power, 38 post–Cold War policy, 171–74, 255nn. 5, 7 quali‹cations as major power, 39–42, 228 USSR. See Russia Utrecht, Treaty of (1713), 33 Vagts, Alfred, 72 Van der Wusten, Herman, 106, 251n. 6 Van Evera, Stephen, 256n. 9 Vasquez, John A., 26, 250n. 1 Vayrynen, Raimo, 84 Venezuelan crisis (1902), 155

294

Index

Versailles Treaty (1919), 40 Vienna, Congress of (1815), 27, 29, 32, 53, 228 Vietnam, 251n. 8, 255n. 7 Wagner, R. Harrison, 76 Wallace, Henry A., 101, 251n. 5 Wallerstein, Immanuel, 78, 82–83 Walt, Stephen M., 74–75, 250n. 1 Waltz, Kenneth N., 10, 26, 71, 74, 75–76, 78, 163, 228, 229, 250n. 1 Wang, Gungwu, 45 War, 9, 257n. 2 and costly signals, 158, 160–61, 169 and domestic regime, 126, 129, 130, 133, 136, 139, 152, 154, 162, 167–68, 253n. 6 and past behavior, 156 and power balance, 8, 96, 148–50, 152, 154, 162, 166, 240 and regional interests, 121, 122, 148–50, 152, 154, 162, 165, 176 War of the Spanish Succession (1702–13), 31, 33 Washington, Conference of (1932), 41 Wayman, Frank, 76 Webster, Sir Charles K., 28

Weede, Erich, 52, 58, 85 Weinstein, Franklin B., 16, 18, 19, 157 Werner, Suzanne, 85–87, 88 Western Hemisphere, 177, 256n. 10 West Germany. See Germany Westphalia, Peace of (1648), 31, 33 Wight, Martin, 26, 73–74 Wilhelm II, 35, 100 Wilkenfeld, Jonathan, 76, 183 Wittes, Tamara Cofman, 173 World-system theory, 78, 82–83 World War I (1914–18), 20, 30, 31, 35, 37, 39, 42, 53, 228 World War II (1939–45), 20, 32, 33, 37, 43, 100, 111, 228, 231, 255n. 4 Wright, Quincy, 35, 36, 37, 38, 73, 225, 247nn. 4, 10 Wu, Samuel S. G., 52–53, 58 Young, Oran R., 13 Yugoslavia, 172 Zagare, Frank C., 11, 13, 52–53, 58, 86–87, 169, 245nn. 5, 7, 249n. 7 Zambia, 251n. 8 Zhang, Junsen, 257n. 4 Zinnes, Dina A., 88

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