Backing into World War III
Monday, February 6, 2017
Foreign Policy
Robert Kagan
Think
of two significant trend lines in the world today. One is the
increasing ambition and activism of the two great revisionist powers,
Russia and China. The other is the declining confidence, capacity, and
will of the democratic world, and especially of the United States, to
maintain the dominant position it has held in the international system
since 1945. As those two lines move closer, as the declining will and
capacity of the United States and its allies to maintain the present
world order meet the increasing desire and capacity of the revisionist
powers to change it, we will reach the moment at which the existing
order collapses and the world descends into a phase of brutal anarchy,
as it has three times in the past two centuries. The cost of that
descent, in lives and treasure, in lost freedoms and lost hope, will be
staggering.
Americans
tend to take the fundamental stability of the international order for
granted, even while complaining about the burden the United States
carries in preserving that stability. History shows that world orders do
collapse, however, and when they do it is often unexpected, rapid, and
violent. The late 18th century was the high point of the Enlightenment
in Europe, before the continent fell suddenly into the abyss of the
Napoleonic Wars. In the first decade of the 20th century, the world’s
smartest minds predicted an end to great-power conflict as revolutions
in communication and transportation knit economies and people closer
together. The most devastating war in history came four years later. The
apparent calm of the postwar 1920s became the crisis-ridden 1930s and
then another world war. Where exactly we are in this classic scenario
today, how close the trend lines are to that intersection point is, as
always, impossible to know. Are we three years away from a global
crisis, or 15? That we are somewhere on that path, however, is
unmistakable.
Are we three years away from a global crisis, or 15?
And
while it is too soon to know what effect Donald Trump’s presidency will
have on these trends, early signs suggest that the new administration
is more likely to hasten us toward crisis than slow or reverse these
trends. The further accommodation of Russia can only embolden Vladimir
Putin, and the tough talk with China will likely lead Beijing to test
the new administration’s resolve militarily. Whether the president is
ready for such a confrontation is entirely unclear. For the moment, he
seems not to have thought much about the future ramifications of his
rhetoric and his actions.
China
and Russia are classic revisionist powers. Although both have never
enjoyed greater security from foreign powers than they do today—Russia
from its traditional enemies to the west, China from its traditional
enemy in the east—they are dissatisfied with the current global
configuration of power. Both seek to restore the hegemonic dominance
they once enjoyed in their respective regions. For China, that means
dominance of East Asia, with countries like Japan, South Korea, and the
nations of Southeast Asia both acquiescing to Beijing’s will and acting
in conformity with China’s strategic, economic, and political
preferences. That includes American influence withdrawn to the eastern
Pacific, behind the Hawaiian Islands. For Russia, it means hegemonic
influence in Central and Eastern Europe and Central Asia, which Moscow
has traditionally regarded as either part of its empire or part of its
sphere of influence. Both Beijing and Moscow seek to redress what they
regard as an unfair distribution of power, influence, and honor in the
U.S.-led postwar global order. As autocracies, both feel threatened by
the dominant democratic powers in the international system and by the
democracies on their borders. Both regard the United States as the
principal obstacle to their ambitions, and therefore both seek to weaken
the American-led international security order that stands in the way of
their achieving what they regard as their rightful destinies.
IT WAS GOOD WHILE IT LASTED
Until
fairly recently, Russia and China have faced considerable, almost
insuperable, obstacles in achieving their objectives. The chief obstacle
has been the power and coherence of the international order itself and
its principal promoter and defender. The American-led system of
political and military alliances, especially in the two critical regions
of Europe and East Asia, has presented China and Russia with what Dean
Acheson once referred to as “situations of strength”
that have required them to pursue their ambitions cautiously and, since
the end of the Cold War, to defer serious efforts to disrupt the
international system.
The
system has checked their ambitions in both positive and negative
ways. During the era of American primacy, China and Russia have
participated in and for the most part been beneficiaries of the open
international economic system the United States created and helps
sustain; so long as that system functions, they have had more to gain by
playing in it than by challenging and overturning it. The political and
strategic aspects of the order, however, have worked to their
detriment. The growth and vibrancy of democratic government in the two
decades following the collapse of Soviet communism posed a continual
threat to the ability of rulers in Beijing and Moscow to maintain
control, and since the end of the Cold War they have regarded every
advance of democratic institutions—especially the geographical advance
of liberal democracies close to their borders—as an existential threat.
That’s for good reason: Autocratic powers since the days of Klemens von
Metternich have always feared the contagion of liberalism. The mere
existence of democracies on their borders, the global free flow of
information they cannot control, the dangerous connection between free
market capitalism and political freedom—all pose a threat to rulers who
depend on keeping restive forces in their own countries in check.
The
continual challenge to the legitimacy of their rule posed by the
U.S.-supported democratic order has therefore naturally made them
hostile both to that order and to the United States. But, until
recently, a preponderance of domestic and international forces has
dissuaded them from confronting the order directly. Chinese rulers have
had to worry about what an unsuccessful confrontation with the United
States might do to their legitimacy at home. Even Putin has pushed only
against open doors, as in Syria, where the United States responded
passively to his probes. He has been more cautious when confronted by
even marginal U.S. and European opposition, as in Ukraine.
During
the era of American primacy, China and Russia have participated in and
for the most part been beneficiaries of the open international economic
system the United States created and helps sustain; so long as that
system functions, they have had more to gain by playing in it than by
challenging and overturning it.
The
greatest check on Chinese and Russian ambitions has been the military
and economic power of the United States and its allies in Europe and
Asia. China, although increasingly powerful, has had to contemplate
facing the combined military and economic strength of the world’s
superpower and some very formidable regional powers linked by alliance
or common strategic interest—including Japan, India, and South Korea, as
well as smaller but still potent nations like Vietnam and Australia.
Russia has had to face the United States and its NATO allies. When
united, these U.S.-led alliances present a daunting challenge to a
revisionist power that can call on few allies of its own for assistance.
Even were the Chinese to score an early victory in a conflict, such as
the military subjection of Taiwan or a naval battle in the South or East
China Sea, they would have to contend over time with the combined
industrial productive capacities of some of the world’s richest and most
technologically advanced nations and the likely cutoff of access to
foreign markets on which their own economy depends. A weaker Russia,
with its depleted population and oil- and gas-dependent economy, would
face an even greater challenge.
For
decades, the strong global position enjoyed by the United States and
its allies has discouraged any serious challenge. So long as the United
States was perceived as a dependable ally, Chinese and Russian leaders
feared that aggressive moves would backfire and possibly bring their
regimes down. This is what the political scientist William Wohlforth
once described as the inherent stability of the unipolar order:
As dissatisfied regional powers sought to challenge the status quo,
their alarmed neighbors turned to the distant American superpower to
contain their ambitions. And it worked. The United States stepped up,
and Russia and China largely backed down—or were preempted before acting
at all.
Faced
with these obstacles, the best option for the two revisionist great
powers has always been to hope for or, if possible, engineer a weakening
of the U.S.-supported world order from within, either by separating the
United States from its allies or by raising doubts about the U.S.
commitment and thereby encouraging would-be allies and partners to forgo
the strategic protection of the liberal world order and seek
accommodation with its challengers.
The
present system has therefore depended not only on American power but on
coherence and unity at the heart of the democratic world. The United
States has had to play its part as the principal guarantor of the order,
especially in the military and strategic realm, but the order’s
ideological and economic core—the democracies of Europe and East Asia
and the Pacific—has also had to remain relatively healthy and confident.
In
recent years, both pillars have been shaken. The democratic order has
weakened and fractured at its core. Difficult economic conditions, the
recrudescence of nationalism and tribalism, weak and uncertain political
leadership and unresponsive mainstream political parties, and a new era
of communications that seems to strengthen rather than weaken tribalism
have together produced a crisis of confidence not only in the
democracies but in what might be called the liberal enlightenment
project. That project elevated universal principles of individual rights
and common humanity over ethnic, racial, religious, national, or tribal
differences. It looked to a growing economic interdependence to create
common interests across boundaries and to the establishment of
international institutions to smooth differences and facilitate
cooperation among nations. Instead, the past decade has seen the rise of
tribalism and nationalism, an increasing focus on the Other in all
societies, and a loss of confidence in government, in the capitalist
system, and in democracy. We are witnessing the opposite of Francis
Fukuyama’s “end of history.” History is returning with a vengeance and
with it all the darker aspects of the human soul, including, for many,
the perennial human yearning for a strong leader to provide firm
guidance in a time of confusion and incoherence.
THE DARK AGES 2.0
This
crisis of the enlightenment project may have been inevitable, a
recurring phenomenon produced by inherent flaws in both capitalism and
democracy. In the 1930s, economic crisis and rising nationalism led many
to doubt whether either democracy or capitalism was preferable to
alternatives such as fascism and communism. And it is no coincidence
that the crisis of confidence in liberalism accompanied a simultaneous
breakdown of the strategic order. Then, the question was whether the
United States as the outside power would step in and save or remake an
order that Britain and France were no longer able or willing to sustain.
Now, the question is whether the United States is willing to continue
upholding the order that it created and which depends entirely on
American power or whether Americans are prepared to take the risk—if
they even understand the risk—of letting the order collapse into chaos
and conflict.
That
willingness has been in doubt for some time, well before the election
of Trump and even before the election of Barack Obama. Increasingly in
the quarter century after the end of the Cold War, Americans have been
wondering why they bear such an unusual and outsized responsibility for
preserving global order when their own interests are not always clearly
served—and when the United States seems to be making all the sacrifices
while others benefit. Few remember the reasons why the United States
took on this abnormal role after the calamitous two world wars of the
20th century.
The millennial generation born after the end of the Cold
War can hardly be expected to understand the lasting significance of the
political, economic, and security structures established after World
War II. Nor are they likely to learn much about it in high school and
college textbooks obsessed with noting the evils and follies of American
“imperialism.” Both the crises of the first half of the 20th century
and its solution in 1945 have been forgotten. As a consequence, the
American public’s patience with the difficulties and costs inherent in
playing that global role have worn thin. Whereas previous unsuccessful
and costly wars, in Korea in 1950 and Vietnam in the 1960s and 1970s,
and previous economic downturns, such as with the energy crisis and
crippling “stagflation” of the mid- to late 1970s, did not have the
effect of turning Americans against global involvement, the unsuccessful
wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the financial crisis of 2008 have.
Obama
pursued an ambivalent approach to global involvement, but his core
strategy was retrenchment. In his actions and his statements, he
critiqued and repudiated previous American strategy and reinforced a
national mood favoring a much less active role in the world and much
narrower definition of American interests. The Obama administration
responded to the George W. Bush administration’s failures in Iraq and
Afghanistan not by restoring American power and influence but by further
reducing them. Although the administration promised to “rebalance”
American foreign policy to Asia and the Pacific, in practice that meant
reducing global commitments and accommodating revisionist powers at the
expense of allies’ security.
The
administration’s early attempt to “reset” relations with Russia struck
the first blow to America’s reputation as a reliable ally. Coming just
after the Russian invasion of Georgia, it appeared to reward Moscow’s
aggression. The reset also came at the expense of U.S. allies in Central
Europe, as programs of military cooperation with Poland and the Czech
Republic were jettisoned to appease the Kremlin. This attempt at
accommodation, moreover, came just as Russian policy toward the West—not
to mention Putin’s repressive policies toward his own people—was
hardening. Far from eliciting better behavior by Russia, the reset
emboldened Putin to push harder. Then, in 2014, the West’s inadequate
response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine and seizure of Crimea,
though better than the Bush administration’s anemic response to the
invasion of Georgia (Europe and the United States at least imposed
sanctions after the invasion of Ukraine), still indicated reluctance on
the part of the U.S. administration to force Russia back in its declared
sphere of interest. Obama, in fact, publicly acknowledged Russia’s
privileged position in Ukraine even as the United States and Europe
sought to protect that country’s sovereignty. In Syria, the
administration practically invited Russian intervention through
Washington’s passivity, and certainly did nothing to discourage it, thus
reinforcing the growing impression of an America in retreat across the
Middle East (an impression initially created by the unnecessary and
unwise withdrawal of all U.S. troops from Iraq). Subsequent Russian
actions that increased the refugee flow from Syria into Europe also
brought no American response, despite the evident damage of those
refugee flows to European democratic institutions. The signal sent by
the Obama administration was that none of this was really America’s
problem.
In
East Asia, the Obama administration undermined its otherwise
commendable efforts to assert America’s continuing interest and
influence. The so-called “pivot” proved to be mostly rhetoric.
Inadequate overall defense spending precluded the necessary increases in
America’s regional military presence in a meaningful way, and the
administration allowed a critical economic component, the Trans-Pacific
Partnership, to die in Congress, chiefly a victim of its own party’s
opposition. The pivot also suffered from the general perception of
American retreat and retrenchment, encouraged both by presidential
rhetoric and by administration policies, especially in the Middle East.
The premature, unnecessary, and strategically costly withdrawal of
American troops from Iraq, followed by the accommodating agreement with
Iran on its nuclear program, and then by the failure to hold the line on
threats to use force against Syria’s president, was noticed around the
world. Despite the Obama administration’s insistence that American
strategy should be geared toward Asia, U.S. allies have been left
wondering how reliable the U.S. commitment might be when facing the
challenge posed by China. The Obama administration erred in imagining
that it could retrench globally while reassuring allies in Asia that the
United States remained a reliable partner.
NATURE ABHORS A VACUUM
The
effect on the two great revisionist powers, meanwhile, has been to
encourage greater efforts at revision. In recent years, both powers have
been more active in challenging the order, and one reason has been the
growing perception that the United States is losing both the will and
the capacity to sustain it. The psychological and political effect of
the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in the United States, which has been to
weaken support for American global engagement across the board, has
provided an opening.
It
is a myth, prevalent among liberal democracies, that revisionist powers
can be pacified by acquiescence to their demands. American
retrenchment, by this logic, ought to reduce tensions and competition.
Unfortunately, the opposite is more often the case. The more secure
revisionist powers feel, the more ambitious they are in seeking to
change the system to their advantage because the resistance to change
appears to be lessening. Just look at both China and Russia: Never in
the past two centuries have they enjoyed greater security from external
attack than they do today. Yet both remain dissatisfied and have become
increasingly aggressive in pressing what they perceive to be their
growing advantage in a system where the United States no longer puts up
as much resistance as it used to.
The
two great powers have differed, so far, chiefly in their methods. China
has until now been the more careful, cautious, and patient of the two,
seeking influence primarily through its great economic clout and using
its growing military power chiefly as a source of deterrence and
regional intimidation. It has not resorted to the outright use of force
yet, although its actions in the South China Sea are military in nature,
with strategic objectives. And while Beijing has been wary of using
military force until now, it would be a mistake to assume it will
continue show such restraint in the future—possibly the near future.
Revisionist great powers with growing military capabilities invariably
make use of those capabilities when they believe the possible gains
outweigh the risks and costs. If the Chinese perceive America’s
commitment to its allies and its position in the region to be weakening,
or its capacity to make good on those commitments to be declining, then
they will be more inclined to attempt to use the power they are
acquiring in order to achieve their objectives. As the trend lines draw
closer, this is where the first crisis is likely to take place.
Russia
has been far more aggressive. It has invaded two neighboring
states—Georgia in 2008 and Ukraine in 2014—and in both cases hived off
significant portions of those two nations’ sovereign territory. Given
the intensity with which the United States and its allies would have
responded to such actions during the four decades of the Cold War, their
relative lack of a response must have sent quite a signal to the
Kremlin—and to others around the world. Moscow then followed by sending
substantial forces into Syria. It has used its dominance of European
energy markets as a weapon. It has used cyberwarfare against neighboring
states. It has engaged in extensive information warfare on a global
scale.
More
recently, the Russian government has deployed a weapon that the Chinese
either lack or have so far chosen not to deploy—the ability to
interfere directly in Western electoral processes, both to influence
their outcomes and more generally to discredit the democratic system.
Russia funds right-wing populist parties across Europe, including in France;
uses its media outlets to support favored candidates and attack others;
has disseminated “fake news” to influence voters, most recently in Italy’s referendum;
and has hacked private communications in order to embarrass those it
wishes to defeat. This past year, Russia for the first time employed
this powerful weapon against the United States, heavily interfering in
the American electoral process.
Although
Russia, by any measure, is the weaker of the two great powers, it has
so far had more success than China in accomplishing its objective of
dividing and disrupting the West.
Although
Russia, by any measure, is the weaker of the two great powers, it has
so far had more success than China in accomplishing its objective of
dividing and disrupting the West. Its interference in Western democratic
political systems, its information warfare, and its role in creating
increased refugee flows from Syria into Europe have all contributed to
the sapping of Europeans’ confidence in their political systems and
established political parties. Its military intervention in Syria,
contrasted with American passivity, has exacerbated existing doubts
about American staying power in the region. Beijing, until recently, has
succeeded mostly in driving American allies closer to the United States
out of concern for growing Chinese power—but that could change quickly,
especially if the United States continues on its present trajectory.
There are signs that regional powers are already recalculating: East
Asian countries are contemplating regional trade agreements that need
not include the United States or, in the case of the Philippines, are
actively courting China, while a number of nations in Eastern and
Central Europe are moving closer to Russia, both strategically and
ideologically. We could soon face a situation where both great
revisionist powers are acting aggressively, including by military means,
posing extreme challenges to American and global security in two
regions at once.
THE DISPENSABLE NATION
All
this comes as Americans continue to signal their reluctance to uphold
the world order they created after World War II. Donald Trump was not
the only major political figure in this past election season to call for
a much narrower definition of American interests and a lessening of the
burdens of American global leadership. President Obama and Bernie
Sanders both expressed a version of “America First.” The candidate who
spoke often of America’s “indispensable” global role lost, and even
Hillary Clinton felt compelled to jettison her earlier support for the
Trans-Pacific Partnership. At the very least, there should be doubts
about the American public’s willingness to continue supporting the
international alliance structure, denying the revisionist powers their
desired spheres of influence and regional hegemony, and upholding
democratic and free market norms in the international system.
Coming
as it does at a time of growing great-power competition, this narrowing
definition of American interests will likely hasten a return to the
instability and clashes of previous eras. The weakness at the core of
the democratic world and the shedding by the United States of global
responsibilities have already encouraged a more aggressive revisionism
by the dissatisfied powers. That, in turn, has further sapped the
democratic world’s confidence and willingness to resist. History
suggests that this is a downward spiral from which it will be difficult
to recover, absent a rather dramatic shift of course by the United
States.
The
weakness at the core of the democratic world and the shedding by the
United States of global responsibilities have already encouraged a more
aggressive revisionism by the dissatisfied powers.
That
shift may come too late. It was in the 1920s, not the 1930s, that the
democratic powers made the most important and ultimately fatal
decisions. Americans’ disillusionment after World War I led them to
reject playing a strategic role in preserving the peace in Europe and
Asia, even though America was the only nation powerful enough to play
that role. The withdrawal of the United States helped undermine the will
of Britain and France and encouraged Germany in Europe and Japan in
Asia to take increasingly aggressive actions to achieve regional
dominance. Most Americans were convinced that nothing that happened in
Europe or Asia could affect their security. It took World War II to
convince them that was a mistake. The “return to normalcy”
of the 1920 election seemed safe and innocent at the time, but the
essentially selfish policies pursued by the world’s strongest power in
the following decade helped set the stage for the calamities of the
1930s. By the time the crises began to erupt, it was already too late to
avoid paying the high price of global conflict.
In
such times, it has always been tempting to believe that geopolitical
competition can be solved through efforts at cooperation and
accommodation. The idea, recently proposed by
Niall Ferguson, that the world can be ruled jointly by the United
States, Russia, and China is not a new one. Such condominiums have been
proposed and attempted in every era when the dominant power or powers in
the international system sought to fend off challenges from the
dissatisfied revisionist powers. It has rarely worked. Revisionist great
powers are not easy to satisfy short of complete capitulation. Their
sphere of influence is never quite large enough to satisfy their pride
or their expanding need for security. In fact, their very expansion
creates insecurity, by frightening neighbors and leading them to band
together against the rising power. The satiated power that
Otto von Bismarck spoke of is rare. The German leaders who succeeded
him were not satisfied even with being the strongest power in Europe. In
their efforts to grow still stronger, they produced coalitions against
them, making their fear of “encirclement” a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Get daily updates from Brookings
GIVE ‘EM AN INCH, THEY’LL TAKE A MILE
This
is a common trait of rising powers—their actions produce the very
insecurity they claim to want to redress. They harbor grievances against
the existing order (both Germany and Japan considered themselves the
“have-not” nations), but their grievances cannot be satisfied so long as
the existing order remains in place. Marginal concession is not enough,
but the powers upholding the existing order will not make more than
marginal concessions unless they are compelled to by superior strength.
Japan, the aggrieved “have-not” nation of the 1930s, did not satisfy
itself by taking Manchuria in 1931. Germany, the aggrieved victim of
Versailles, did not satisfy itself by bringing the Germans of the
Sudetenland back into the fold. They demanded much more, and they could
not persuade the democratic powers to give them what they wanted without
resorting to war.
Granting
the revisionist powers spheres of influence is not a recipe for peace
and tranquility but rather an invitation to inevitable conflict.
Granting
the revisionist powers spheres of influence is not a recipe for peace
and tranquility but rather an invitation to inevitable
conflict. Russia’s historical sphere of influence does not end in
Ukraine. It begins in Ukraine. It extends to the Baltic States, to the
Balkans, and to the heart of Central Europe. And within Russia’s
traditional sphere of influence, other nations do not enjoy autonomy or
even sovereignty. There was no independent Poland under the Russian
Empire nor under the Soviet Union. For China to gain its desired sphere
of influence in East Asia will mean that, when it chooses, it can close
the region off to the United States—not only militarily but politically
and economically, too.
China
will, of course, inevitably exercise great sway in its own region, as
will Russia. The United States cannot and should not prevent China from
being an economic powerhouse. Nor should it wish for the collapse of
Russia. The United States should even welcome competition of a certain
kind. Great powers compete across multiple planes—economic, ideological,
and political, as well as military. Competition in most spheres is
necessary and even healthy. Within the liberal order, China can compete
economically and successfully with the United States; Russia can thrive
in the international economic order upheld by the democratic system,
even if it is not itself democratic.
But
military and strategic competition is different. The security situation
undergirds everything else. It remains true today as it has since World
War II that only the United States has the capacity and the unique
geographical advantages to provide global security and relative
stability. There is no stable balance of power in Europe or Asia without
the United States. And while we can talk about “soft power” and “smart
power,” they have been and always will be of limited value when
confronting raw military power. Despite all of the loose talk of
American decline, it is in the military realm where U.S. advantages
remain clearest. Even in other great powers’ backyards, the United
States retains the capacity, along with its powerful allies, to deter
challenges to the security order. But without a U.S. willingness to
maintain the balance in far-flung regions of the world, the system will
buckle under the unrestrained military competition of regional powers.
Part of that willingness entails defense spending commensurate with
America’s continuing global role.
For
the United States to accept a return to spheres of influence would not
calm the international waters. It would merely return the world to the
condition it was in at the end of the 19th century, with competing great
powers clashing over inevitably intersecting and overlapping spheres.
These unsettled, disordered conditions produced the fertile ground for
the two destructive world wars of the first half of the 20th century.
The collapse of the British-dominated world order on the oceans, the
disruption of the uneasy balance of power on the European continent as a
powerful unified Germany took shape, and the rise of Japanese power in
East Asia all contributed to a highly competitive international
environment in which dissatisfied great powers took the opportunity to
pursue their ambitions in the absence of any power or group of powers to
unite in checking them. The result was an unprecedented global calamity
and death on an epic scale. It has been the great accomplishment of the
U.S.-led world order in the 70 years since the end of World War II that
this kind of competition has been held in check and great power
conflicts have been avoided. It will be more than a shame if Americans
were to destroy what they created—and not because it was no longer
possible to sustain but simply because they chose to stop trying.
(Tapa del libro de Daniel Berliner)
