Liberal Pessimism: International Relations Theory and the Emerging Powers
By Stephan
Haggard,
Graduate School of International Relations and Pacific
Studies,
University of California, San Diego, California, USA
Email:
shaggard@ucsd.edu
The
triumphalism of the immediate post-Cold War period in the United States
has faded, and concern about decline has returned. In the field of
international relations, the return of power transition models is
exemplary of the new mood. This article argues that realist models
misjudge the source of foreign policy risks for the United States and
its allies. Rather, the standard canon of liberal international
relations theory also suggests sources of pessimism. These include the
enduring nature of authoritarian rule, the difficulty of coordinating
emerging actors through existing international institutions, and the
ambiguous effects of increased interdependence on the foreign policy
behaviour and leverage of emerging powers.
Introduction
Following
the end of the Cold War, realists predicted that the end of bipolarity
would trigger new conflicts. Multipolarity carried intrinsic
uncertainties, and balancing against US dominance was inevitable. Both
Europe and Asia were vulnerable. But analysts who had long focused on
the trans-Atlantic system and the balance of power in central Europe
pivoted to the Pacific, which was deemed ‘ripe for rivalry’ (Friedberg 1993–1994).
These predictions did not pan out. To the contrary, the immediate post-Cold War period proved a ‘unipolar moment’ (Krauthammer 1990/1991)
during which the United States dramatically extended its geostrategic
reach. Of particular significance in this regard was not only the
collapse of America's most significant rival but successive rounds of
the North Atlantic Treaty Organization expansion, an enlarged US
presence in Central Asia after the shock of 9/11, the changed political
configuration in the Persian Gulf following the invasion of Iraq, and an
under-appreciated rapprochement with India. Far from balancing against
the United States—as realists should have predicted—countries
bandwagoned towards it. Ideological triumphalism also played a role, as
the only coherent alternative to liberal democratic capitalism—state
socialism—rapidly deflated in appeal (Fukuyama 1989).
The
self-congratulatory debate in the United States turned to the
durability of American dominance. One highly influential account argued
that the unipolar distribution of capabilities was virtually immune from
challenge (Brooks & Wohlforth 2008). Most liberal internationalists (Ikenberry 2002) and moderate, defensive realists like Steve Walt (2005)
were more cautious. They focused on how policy choices rather than
power per se would be determinative of the new world order, and chided
the George W. Bush administration for squandering American advantage.
But even apparently declinist accounts, such as Fareed Zakaria's (2008) The Post-American World,
saw the long peace of the post-war era as sustainable if the United
States responded judiciously. Standard elements of the liberal
toolkit—military restraint, multilateralism, encouraging the growth of
interdependence and democracy—could provide the foundation for an
extension, perhaps indefinite, of the Pax Americana.
Even
with the fillip provided by America's recent economic performance
vis-à-vis Europe, attention in the United States has once again focused
on relative decline and its challenges. The causes of the new pessimism
are multiple, but the root source of concern is economic. The decade of
the 2000s saw unprecedented growth in emerging markets. Although China
received most attention, the phenomenon was much broader, and included
gains in Russia, Latin America and South Asia as well. The global
financial crisis, including its European variant, laid bare an
unpleasant economic arithmetic: we are increasingly living in a
two-track growth world, with emerging powers growing very much faster
than the United States, Europe and Japan. In contrast with earlier
periods of economic convergence, some of the countries catching up are
not only large—the major European countries and Japan were also
significant economies—but potentially dissatisfied with the political
status quo.
The problems of measuring national capabilities are well known (Chan 2008, ch. 2), but two sets of projections provide some sense of the shifts in power that are in train. Goldman Sachs (2009)—which
first identified the BRICs (Brazil, Russia, India, China) as a
distinctive group—has long-run growth projections that are not simply
linear but also take into account the likelihood that growth
accelerations are likely to slow. China has already surpassed Japan and
is predicted to become the largest economy in the world by the
mid-2020s; using purchasing power parity exchange rates, the transition
will come sooner. India and Russia will overtake Japan by 2027 and 2037,
respectively, and Brazil could overtake Germany by 2029. Overall, the
BRICs economies taken together had the potential to be larger than the
G6 by 2031.
The most recent issue of the US National Intelligence Council's (2012) Global Trends 2030
rolls out a new global power index that incorporates a broader array of
indicators of national power, including governance, education and
health, as well as the more traditional measures. Using this metric, the
capabilities of China and India grow more slowly; for example, China
does not overtake the United States until the 2040s, and India is just
coming within striking distance of the European Union (EU) by 2050. But
the picture shifts dramatically when we consider whole groups of
countries and possibilities for shifting alliances as new poles of power
emerge. For example, the National Intelligence Council's predicts that
non-Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)
countries will outweigh the OECD countries by 2030.
As
a result of these developments, power transition models of conflict are
back in vogue and have breathed new life into realist analyses of
international politics. These theories, which predict conflicts between
status-quo incumbent powers and rising, revisionist challengers, have a
long pedigree in international relations theory (Organski 1958; Organski & Kugler 1980; Gilpin 1981; Modelski 1987; Thompson 1988; Chan 2008
for an overview). But they have recently broken out of their academic
confines and influenced the public debate. John Mearsheimer (2001)
remains the most wide-ranging proponent of the pessimistic view that
changes in the distribution of power are destabilising. Aaron
Friedberg's (2012) A Contest for Supremacy: China, America, and the Struggle for Mastery in Asia 1 and Hugh White's (2012) The China Choice: Why America Should Share Power are influential exemplars of the China variant, but examples can be found with respect to Russia (Lucas 2009) and the challenges associated with a more general decline in American centrality.
Liberal
theorists of international politics argue that the single-minded focus
on power overlooks countervailing forces in world politics that tend to
moderate the behaviour of rising powers. These include the long-run
tendency towards more liberal if not fully democratic rule, the growing
role of international institutions and the constraining effects of
economic interdependence. In this essay, I argue that the standard
arguments in the liberal canon do not necessarily offer the solace that
they once did; there is an analytic case for liberal pessimism, and on
three distinct grounds.
The
first stems precisely from the findings of the democratic peace
literature. Although democracies may not fight one another, the world is
far from uniformly democratic; in fact, the ‘third wave’ of
democratisation that began in the 1970s has peaked (Diamond 2008; Kurlantzick 2013).
The United States faces challenges from an array of authoritarian and
semi-authoritarian regimes that are characterised by lack of checks on
leaders’ foreign policy discretion, lack of transparency, political
coalitions that are hostile towards globalisation and nationalist
strategies of legitimation. Nor should the findings of the democratic
peace literature lead one to think that democracy alone is a guarantor
of foreign support for American and Western objectives. New democracies
are also breeding grounds for strongly nationalist tropes, some of them
explicitly rooted in resentment at American hegemony.
The second component of the liberal toolkit is institutionalist. Since the publication of Robert Keohane's (1984) After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy,
this strand of thinking has been particularly influential in the
American academy. Responding to an earlier wave of realist pessimism
about American standing in the world, Keohane argued that international
institutions could forestall the effects of hegemonic decline by
coordinating allies. We could enjoy the benefits of multilateral
cooperation ‘after hegemony’. However, this benign view of the power of
international institutions was accompanied by a number of caveats about
the limits of multilateralism, including collective action problems in
the provision of leadership, and the difficulty of coordinating large
numbers and accommodating diverse preferences. That global governance is
currently stressed is beyond challenge. It is far from clear that new
forums, such as the G20, will be agile or coherent enough to substitute
for the gridlock now visible on a range of issues areas, from trade to
climate change.
A
final source of liberal hopefulness is economic. This strand of
thinking can be traced from nineteenth-century British liberal
anti-imperialists like Cobden and Bright, through Angell and Schumpeter,
to the present. The core argument is that capitalism is fundamentally
pacific in nature because making money requires a stable international
order. This should be even more true as economic interdependence becomes
not only more substantial but also more intricate, for example,
encompassing complex global production networks and supply chains. But
this hope may be misguided as well. The problem is not only that some
notable pariahs like North Korea are content with autarchy, or that
others like Russia, Iran and Venezuela can finesse the restraining
effects of interdependence through their power in commodity markets. The
growth of demand from emerging markets is also creating patterns of
South–South trade that are outside the reach of the advanced industrial
core. Particularly nettlesome examples include Russia's relations with
Syria and Iran, and China's support for North Korea. But the problem is
broader, extending from China's growing influence in Latin America and
Africa, to Russia's role in Central Asia, and Iran's and Saudi Arabia's
ability to use oil money to finance the radical revival—both Shia and
Sunni—in the Middle East and North Africa.
The
larger analytic point is that liberal-institutional theories of world
politics—long associated with hopeful and even idealistic prognoses for
the post-Cold War era—in fact can be turned to more cautious and even
pessimistic conclusions. The evolution of the international order will
be driven by the choices of the United States and its allies, to be
sure. But much depends on political developments in the emerging markets
themselves, developments over which the United States and its allies
exercise surprisingly limited influence.
Sources of Liberal Pessimism I: A Democratic Peace
The
core tenets of the democratic peace arguments are so well known that
they can be restated briefly (for example, Russet & Oneal 2001).
In one of the more empirically robust literatures in international
relations, it has been shown that democracies are not only less likely
to fight one another—a probabilistic claim—but that there are
surprisingly few cases of wars between democracies in the entirety of
recorded human history (Weart 1998).
Two important extensions of the model go beyond issues of peace and
war, to the peaceful resolution of disputes and risks of civil conflict.
When democracies do face conflicts, they are more likely than other
pairs of countries to resolve them through peaceful means; the
democratic peace is not just a theory of war. Democracies are also less
likely to experience debilitating domestic violence and civil conflict,
which have been the major source of challenges to international peace
and security since the end of the Cold War.
However,
it is also well known that the democratic peace argument has an
underside. Democratic states are by no means immune from security
competition and wars with non-democracies. If the prospects for peace
are at least partly a function of the scope of democratic rule, where do
we stand?
Unfortunately,
the picture is increasingly clouded. The Polity IV dataset provides a
useful overview of global trends; Polity IV divides regimes into three
categories: outright democracies, outright autocracies and intermediate
‘anocracies’, regimes that have some limited forms of political
contestation and liberties but fall short of full democratic rule. As
Figure 1
shows, the post-war period saw a steady increase in the number of
democracies. But for the most part, the wave of decolonisation was
associated not with an expansion of democracy but of authoritarian rule.
This development was aided and abetted by the competitive realist logic
of the Cold War, which produced acquiescence to authoritarian regimes
on geostrategic grounds.
In
the mid-1970s, however, the number of autocracies peaked as the
so-called third wave of democratic transitions gained momentum.
Particularly following the collapse of the Soviet Union and successful
transitions in Eastern Europe, the number of democracies increased
dramatically and the number of outright autocracies fell. Political
liberalism was on the march.
Yet the early optimism about the prospects for democratisation has now dimmed somewhat (Kurlantzick 2013); Figure 1
suggests at least three reasons why the outlook is less hopeful. The
first is that while the number of democracies did indeed rise and the
number of autocracies fell, the number of intermediate regimes also
increased quite sharply and has held roughly constant. We are now
learning that ‘competitive authoritarianism’ (Levitsky & Way 2010)
is not a transitional form but rather a distinctive type of political
system that is surprisingly durable. Second, and more recently, the long
democratic wave that began in the 1970s and crested following the end
of the Cold War has stalled and might even be reversing. Nor are the
cases at risk politically trivial. Among the countries that have
experienced full or partial retreat from democracy in the post-Cold War
era are Thailand, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Russia, Nigeria,
Kenya and Venezuela.
Finally,
the mirror of a plateauing number of democracies and a steady share of
intermediate regimes is that the decline in the number of autocracies
may also have hit limits. Among the remaining autocracies, two types are
particularly troubling: those that have proven most durable, and are
thus less likely to fade away; and those in which authoritarian rule
masks deep weaknesses, even state failure, that are also not likely to
reverse any time soon. Among the first groups are dominant party
systems, including China and North Korea, that have surprisingly strong
institutional foundations, states with theocratic elements such as Iran
and Saudi Arabia, and a plethora of stable semi-authoritarian regimes
such as Russia. Among the latter are the perennially problematic failed
states: Afghanistan, Yemen, the Central African Republic, and perhaps
even larger more significant regional powers such as Pakistan, Iraq and
Nigeria.
In
sum, the advanced industrial states do not face a world in which the
march of democracy is ineluctable. To the contrary, the political
environment remains politically heterogeneous, with a substantial number
of authoritarian and semi-authoritarian regimes. Realist claims to the
contrary, the challenges to American foreign policy arise not only from
rising major powers, but from medium-sized and even small and declining
authoritarian regimes.
What
do we know about the sources of conflict between democracies and
authoritarian regimes? The answers are by no means one-sided. Democratic
countries may bear responsibility because they believe that ‘regime
change’ of authoritarian systems would be in their material interests.
Alternatively, they may believe that intervention can turn around
perennially fragile states. Partly as a result of these twin risks, both
defensive realists (Walt 2005) and liberal institutionalists (Ikenberry 2002) place particular emphasis on the importance of restraint in US foreign policy.
However,
the risks of conflict between democratic and authoritarian regimes are
also spawned by the foreign policies of autocrats. Jessica Weeks (2012)
argues that personalist leaders and authoritarian regimes headed by
military leaders are particularly conflict-prone; the former because
they are unchecked, the latter because they bring military views of the
world to the table.
But the sources of bellicose behaviour are not limited to the composition of ruling coalitions; as Solingen (1998) points out, strategies of legitimation also matter.
Democratic
and authoritarian rulers both use nationalist appeals to political
effect. But authoritarian regimes may be particularly prone to augment
purely instrumental, material bases of legitimacy with nationalist
appeals. China demonstrates clearly that these risks are not simply a
result of top-down strategies that can be turned on and off, but involve
complex interactions among authoritarian leaders, mobilised publics and
emergent civil societies that are imperfectly under state control.
Important research by Peter Gries (2004), Zheng Wang (2008), Susan Shirk (2007, 2010) and Jessica Weiss (2013) demonstrate how these political forces manifest themselves in foreign policy.
Gries
and Wang show that beginning in the early 1990s, the Communist Party
made a concerted effort to refashion state ideology through a
wide-ranging ‘Patriotic Education Campaign’ targeting youth that
included not only curriculum reform but memorials and media campaigns as
well. A curious feature of the new ideological turn was to focus not on
China's more recent ascent, but on the ‘one hundred years of
humiliation’ from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s when China was bullied,
attacked and ultimately torn asunder by imperialist interventions.
‘Rejuvenating China’ (zhengxing zhonghua) became a dominant
political slogan during the Zhang Zemin era, but was defined in terms of
resistance to foreign political influences rather than through
reference to the country's material successes. These state efforts
merged with an increasingly aggressive commercial journalism that sold
copy based on nationalist appeals (Shirk 2010).
These new political forces ultimately pose dilemmas for the leadership, including in the conduct of its foreign policy (Weiss 2013).
On the one hand, the mobilisation of nationalist forces—including in
the form of anti-foreign protests—allows authoritarian regimes to send
costly signals of resolve, and thus generates a commitment to stand firm
in any given conflict. On the other hand, such dynamics only send
credible signals if they are genuine and place the government or even
regime at some risk; as Weiss puts it, ‘rent a mobs’ are not credible.
Yet precisely because such nationalist protest is risky for the regime,
it of necessity creates constraints on state behaviour that are
potentially destabilising, as conflicts over the Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands
and the South China Sea demonstrate.
There
are good theoretical reasons to believe that authoritarian regimes may
be particularly prone to nationalist appeals given the absence of
legitimation strategies involving citizen participation and
representation. However, in one of the more interesting and subtle
challenges to the democratic peace literature, Mansfield and Snyder (2005)
suggest that liberalising polities and even new democracies may also
share these vulnerabilities; Russia, Pakistan and now Egypt are crucial
cases in this regard.
At
the other end of the spectrum from well-institutionalised authoritarian
and semi-authoritarian states are a plethora of failed states. These
are typically coded as authoritarian not because of strong central
government institutions but because of the fragmentation of authority
among competing centres of power, typically a weak central government,
regionally based warlords and/or rebel contenders. The humanitarian
challenges of failed states were first noted in the 1990s (Helman &
Ratner 1992),
and they continued to motivate interventions in the post-Cold War
period in Northern Iraq, Somalia, the Balkans and East Timor.
But
in the aftermath of 9/11, an altogether different set of concerns
arose: that these weakly governed environments were potential sources of
terrorism, other forms of violence and asymmetric challenges to major
powers. Systematic empirical work now suggests that these concerns are
legitimate. For example, Piazza (2008)—drawing
on a dataset mostly from the 1990s—finds that failed states are
statistically more likely to host terrorist groups that commit
transnational attacks, have their nationals commit transnational attacks
and are also more likely to be targeted by transnational terrorists
themselves. Choi (2010) finds that more robust rule of law dampens terrorism. Summarising recent research, Erica Chenoweth (2013)
extends the argument to the post-9/11 period and suggests that
non-democratic governments are more likely to experience terrorism.
These
concerns, in turn, have fuelled interventions that constituted
long-running policy challenges for the Western states, most notably in
Iraq and Afghanistan; similar questions now loom large with respect to
Syria. As the democratic peace literature predicts, democracies do not
necessarily abstain from conflict with authoritarian regimes. One source
of this finding is clearly the propensity to intervene in failed states
that are seen to pose security externalities, either in their
neighbourhoods or through staging areas and safe havens for more
extensive terrorist networks targeting the advanced industrial states.
The
main points to be made here are simple. The end of the Cold War
appeared to promise a gradual, but nonetheless steady, march towards
greater democratisation. And indeed, progress has been substantial;
among the middle income countries in the G20, most are democratic
(Korea, Indonesia, India, South Africa, Turkey, Mexico, Brazil and
Argentina) and only three authoritarian (China, Russia and Saudi
Arabia).
Nonetheless,
the march of democracy has slowed. Competitive authoritarianism has
revealed itself as a more enduring form than we thought, and the
remaining autocracies may be precisely the most durable ones. Conflicts
between democracies and autocracies involve political dynamics on both
sides, but a number of features of these systems, including the greater
weight of the military, high executive discretion in the conduct of
foreign affairs and the complex politics of nationalism, are likely to
pose ongoing foreign policy challenges. Moreover, these challenges are
not posed only by rising powers, as power transition models presuppose.
Rather, they can arise from countries with relatively limited but
focused capabilities—Iraq prior to the American invasion, Iran and Syria
prior to the civil war—and even from countries, such as North Korea,
that are declining.
The
category of persistent authoritarian regimes encompasses not only the
durable, but also the highly fragile. Some of the more difficult foreign
policy challenges of the post-Cold War period have centred not on
rising powers or even more institutionalised authoritarian regimes, but
precisely on weak states. Moreover, there is little evidence that the
state-failure phenomenon is on the wane (Foreign Policy 2012);
indeed, the analysis of the persistence of authoritarian rule reveals
that a substantial share of these cases fall in the weak or failed state
category.
Sources of Liberal Pessimism II: Challenges
The
second component of the liberal model of international relations is the
promise of institutionalised cooperation. If realists are interested in
the conditions that give rise to conflict, and particularly overt
militarised conflict, the liberal intellectual tradition places greater
emphasis on prospects for cooperation. Not only do international
institutions promise mutual gains in particular issues areas, but
membership is postulated to restrain and socialise state behaviour more
broadly; ceteris paribus, increased joint membership in international
institutions reduces the propensity for outright conflict among the
members (Russet & Oneal 2001).
Reducing
the prospects for war is no mean feat, and we should applaud it. But
this may be setting a low—if important—bar for what institutions can
achieve. Moreover, liberals are not naïve about the conditions under
which cooperation arises. Although cooperation yields joint gains and
the provision of international public goods—almost by
definition—membership in international institutions also entails
sovereignty costs, as countries are expected to adjust policies in line
with common objectives. An obvious postulate follows: institutionalised
cooperation is more likely to occur among countries that have broadly
similar domestic structures and preferences to begin with; put
differently, cooperation is endogenous.
We,
therefore, need to ask what effect the rise of new powers will have on
the ability of international institutions to achieve cooperative
outcomes. The challenges can be seen by looking both at global
institutions and the prospects for regional cooperation. The short
answer is that the rise of new powers poses substantial challenges;
relying on existing institutions to integrate and socialise new entrants
into the status quo may reflect wishful thinking.
To
demonstrate the problem, we begin at the global level with a crude but
nonetheless interesting proxy: the extent to which BRICs have voted with
the United States in the UN General Assembly over the post-war period. 2
The theoretical range for any country is from −1 (never voting with the
United States) to +1 (always voting with the United States). The
results are shown in Figures 2–5.
The patterns differ across the countries, but they suggest strongly
that shared democracy is hardly an antidote to conflict within
international institutions.
In
India, a nearly continuous democracy, we see substantial volatility in
the first half of the post-war period, but with a mean score that shows
neither close alignment with nor opposition to US positions in the
General Assembly. However, we then see a steady decline starting in the
late 1970s, followed by a more consistently oppositional stance towards
the United States from the 1980s forward. In the case of Brazil,
affinity scores are reasonably high at the outset of the post-war
period, but fall steadily during the military dictatorship (1964–1985).
Following democratisation they initially rise, but then retreat again
starting in the late 1990s. This shift reflects in part the
country's—and the region's—shift to the left during the first decade of
the twenty-first century.
Russia
also exhibits interesting dynamics associated with democratisation and
the retreat from it. During the Cold War period, affinity scores were
low, if volatile. Following the democratic transition, Russia showed
greater affinity for the United States, but disaffection followed during
the long Putin–Medvedev–Putin era. Chinese affinity scores show greater
consistency over time: they are low from the time China enters the
world body, and they remain low to this day.
If
global institutions face constraints associated with large numbers and
highly divergent preferences, what about the possibility that regional
institutions might prove more tractable? Table 1
provides a comparative analysis of Europe with two regions in which the
United States has shown an interest in fostering multilateral
institutions: the Asia Pacific and the Western Hemisphere. The Asia
Pacific is defined in two alternate ways: by membership in the East Asia
Summit—a trans-Pacific outgrowth of the Association of Southeast Asian
Nation process—and by membership in Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation
(APEC), which includes not only Asian and North American countries but a
handful of Latin American ones as well. The Western Hemisphere is
defined as the countries of North, Central and South America, omitting
for the purpose of the exercise the smaller Caribbean countries. The
table compares the Europe of the EU with the two Asian and Western
Hemisphere groupings using indicators designed to capture levels of
economic and political development, economic policy, and international
alignments. The table reports mean values on the indicators and their
standard deviation as an indicator of heterogeneity.
Table 1. Heterogeneity and Cooperation in Europe, the Asia Pacific and the Western Hemisphere
| ||||||||
Europe mean
|
Europe standard deviation
|
EAS mean
|
EAS standard deviation
|
APEC mean
|
APEC standard deviation
|
Western Hemisphere mean
|
Western Hemisphere standard deviation
| |
1. Notes:
EU countries: Germany, France, United Kingdom, Italy, Spain, Poland,
Romania, Netherlands, Greece, Portugal, Belgium, Czech Republic,
Hungary, Sweden, Austria, Bulgaria, Denmark, Slovakia, Finland, Ireland,
Lithuania, Latvia, Slovenia, Estonia, Cyprus, Luxembourg, Malta. EAS
countries (after 2010): Australia, Brunei, Cambodia, China, India,
Indonesia, Japan, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, New Zealand, Philippines,
Singapore, South Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, United States, Russia. APEC
countries: Australia, Brunei, Canada, Chile, China, Hong Kong,
Indonesia, Japan, South Korea, Mexico, Malaysia, New Zealand, Papua New
Guinea, Peru, Philippines, Russia, Singapore, Taiwan, Thailand, United
States, Vietnam. Western Hemisphere countries: Argentina, Belize,
Bolivia, Brazil, Canada, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Ecuador,
Guatemala, Guyana, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru,
El Salvador, Suriname, Uruguay, United States, Venezuela.
2. APEC,
Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation; EAS, East Asia Summit; GDP, gross
domestic product; UNGA, United Nations General Assembly.
| ||||||||
Economic and political development
| ||||||||
GDP per capita
|
31,190
|
20,705
|
17,895
|
18,735
|
20,365
|
18,035
|
10,035
|
12,355
|
Polity IV
|
9.6
|
0.7
|
3.5
|
6.7
|
5.9
|
5.5
|
7.7
|
3.0
|
Policy orientation
| ||||||||
Economic freedom: overall index
|
67.70
|
6.33
|
63.45
|
14.66
|
69.32
|
13.06
|
61.6
|
10.6
|
Trade and investment freedom
|
81.91
|
5.87
|
60.38
|
14.04
|
66.62
|
13.34
|
65.7
|
14.0
|
International political alignment
| ||||||||
UNGA voting with United States
|
0.23
|
0.06
|
−0.39
|
0.36
|
−0.27
|
0.42
|
−0.40
|
0.30
|
The
table suggests strongly why the European experience of a tightly
integrated security and economic community—despite its current
stresses—is unlikely to be reproduced elsewhere. Europe is very much
richer on average than the Asian and Western Hemisphere groupings,
although the incorporation of the Southern and Eastern European
countries has resulted in a more economically diverse union encompassing
advanced and middle income countries. However, the differences between
developed and developing countries are even more evident in the Western
Hemisphere and the two Asia-Pacific groupings. If we look at domestic
political structures—the topic of the previous section—we see evidence
that Europe rests on a solid democratic foundation. The EU is made up
entirely of democracies; indeed, it is a prerequisite for membership.
Latin America has become more democratic, but political heterogeneity in
the Asia Pacific remains substantial. APEC has a mean score on regime
type that is just below the standard threshold for democratic rule (6 on
the Polity scale from −10 to +10), but the standard deviation of regime
type in APEC is roughly equal to the mean. For the East Asia Summit
grouping, average democracy scores are lower and the standard deviation
is even higher.
These
structural differences are mirrored in more direct measures of policy
preferences that are likely to be germane for understanding the
prospects for cooperation in these two regions. An aggregate measure of
‘economic freedom’ constructed by the Heritage Foundation and Wall Street Journal
has a strong libertarian foundation, capturing property rights, freedom
of movement for labour, capital and goods—including trade and
investment—as well as measures of the fiscal burden and price stability.
Surprisingly, the mean value of this indicator (although not the
standard deviation) for the pan-Pacific APEC grouping is not that much
different than Europe, where larger governments and labour market
policies depress scores.
However,
when we isolate two dimensions of the index dealing with economic
openness—trade and investment freedom—we see that Europe has a much
higher mean score and with much lower variance than the Asian and
Western Hemisphere groupings. Although economic reforms have
dramatically shifted the political economy of the Asia Pacific and Latin
America over the last several decades, differences in both level of
development and openness to foreign trade and investment place
well-known limits on the ability to reach overarching economic
agreements; American ambitions to construct either a Free Trade Areas of
the Asia Pacific or a Free Trade Area of the Americas remain distant
prospects.
Finally,
these differences extend to the high political level as can be seen by
revisiting the UN General Assembly affinity scores. Trans-Atlantic
affinities are visible in the fact that Europeans vote more consistently
with the United States—although hardly in lockstep—than the Asian or
Latin American groupings. In both the Asia Pacific and Latin America,
however, we see a reprise of the findings with respect to the BRICs: the
affinity score with the United States is on average negative, although
with high variance.
What
do these findings suggest about the prospects for multilateral
cooperation looking forward? A first point to make centres on the
problem of large numbers. The dispersion of power in the system has not
only been associated with the rise of new poles of power but a more
general growth in the membership of a number of core international
institutions. The inclusion of developing countries has obvious
advantages; for example, the Uruguay Round and the founding of the World
Trade Organization constituted the broadest multilateral trade
agreement in history, with developing countries playing a crucial role.
Recent negotiations over the allocation of quota in the International
Monetary Fund (IMF) have shown a willingness to accommodate rising
powers at least at the margin. In return, a number of these
countries—including China, Russia, Brazil, Korea and India—reciprocated
by making important material contributions to the IMF's resources.
However,
the fact that the Doha Round and negotiations on climate change have
recently stalled is not coincidental to the entry of these new players;
it reflects both the downside of large memberships and the increasing
difficulty of accommodating highly divergent preferences in global
negotiations. As David Victor (2011)
has shown convincingly with respect to climate change, the presumption
that countries with highly diverse regulatory regimes could negotiate
and enforce caps on greenhouse gas emissions is increasingly in doubt.
The outcome of the Copenhagen summit also showed in dramatic form that
these differences are not easily finessed through small group meetings
among the major actors if they do not see eye to eye on fundamentals.
These difficulties are reproduced at the regional level. In both the
Western Hemisphere, and particularly in Asia, a complex web of
overlapping regional institutions have emerged (Haggard 2013).
Nonetheless, the large numbers and divergent preferences in these
bodies have pushed them in the direction of lowest-common-denominator
agreements.
We
should not be alarmist; these difficulties do not presage the collapse
of multilateral institutions, which continue to demonstrate their
utility and durability. But politics within these institutions will
become more difficult. As the major multilateral institutions become
more diverse, the deepening of cooperation is likely to occur among
smaller groups of like-minded countries rather than through global
agreements or broad regional ones incorporating many members. This
fragmentation, in turn, raises additional challenges of institutional
design. How do we reconcile diverse trade agreements? How do incentives
to participate in global agreements—including, for example,
environmental ones—shift as major players withdraw into more narrow ones
and the gains from participation fall as a result? Can we assume that
alternative forms of organisation on the part of rising powers—some of
which explicitly exclude the United States—will necessarily redound to
American benefit? Before considering those questions, it is important to
consider more briefly the third leg of the liberal-institutionalist
tripod: the promise of interdependence.
Sources of Liberal Pessimism III: New Sources of Demand, New Sources of Influence
The
reasons for the commercial peace began with the simple observation of
the opportunity costs of war. At a deeper, sociological level, the
important work of Etel Solingen (1998)
showed that interdependence moderates foreign policy behaviour because
it is ultimately rooted in underlying political coalitions with stakes
in existing political–economic relationships. Whatever the underlying
source of the finding, most—although not all (Barbieri 1996)—empirical studies have found an inverse relationship between interdependence and overt conflict (Russet & Oneal 2001).
Just
like arguments about the democratic peace and the benefits of
multilateral institutions, these economic accounts need to be approached
with appropriate scepticism. A quite different strand of work on
economic interdependence—beginning with Hirschman's classic
statement—started with the premise that it was a potential source of
power and dependence (Hirschman 1980).
Indeed, strategies of engagement—drawing emerging powers into networks
of interdependence—seemed to assume myopia on the part of the target:
that it would not notice that greater interdependence might expose the
country to greater vulnerability over time. Yet, even if economic ties
are not directly manipulated to political ends, we have to ask what
global patterns of economic integration look like. Who is integrating
with whom and with what effect?
Figure 6
looks at patterns of final import demand since the end of the Cold War.
The major trends to be observed are in the mutually exclusive high
income and middle and low income categories; these are subsequently
disaggregated into the EU (treated as a group), the United States and
Japan—the three major legs of the advanced industrial state triad—and
the BRICs, clearly dominated by China. Several patterns emerge. First,
the advanced industrial states still account for a substantial share of
total demand; moreover, this would no doubt rise if we considered only
final demand, as some share of imports into the middle and low income
countries is in the form of parts and components destined for re-export.
Nonetheless, the share of low and middle income countries in final
demand has risen by 10 percentage points in the last decade, reflecting
in part growing South–South as well as North–South trade.
The
political implications of these patterns are by no means
straightforward. Developing countries—including China—are still heavily
dependent on advanced industrial state markets as the engine of their
growth. Moreover, as they are integrated more tightly into international
production networks, asset specificity rises and dependence on final
demand becomes more not less important. Financial ties also pose
constraints. Although there is ongoing debate about the leverage that
China's surpluses might pose to the United States, the consensus is that
China is as constrained by the sheer magnitude of its Treasury holdings
as the United States is. There is precious little way that China could
manipulate or even extricate itself from its co-dependence on US
financial markets without catastrophic losses of its own (Drezner 2009). As Edward Steinfeld (2010) puts it, China—and emerging markets more generally—are ‘playing our game’.
However,
just as China might be constrained with respect to its broader
dependence on the United States and advanced industrial states, quite
similar arguments have surfaced around the tremendous pull exerted by
the China market in its regional domain. We cannot have the argument
both ways: we cannot claim that China is ultimately constrained by its
ties with the United States while simultaneously neglecting the way in
which growing interdependence with China may have similar effects on the
foreign policies of smaller countries. Growing intra-Asian integration
and a new centre of economic gravity in China could produce the dreaded
bandwagoning that realists so fear, as weaker, dependent trading
partners accommodate not only Chinese economic but also strategic
interests. Such developments could even culminate in a regional economy
and institutions from which the United States and other countries
outside the region would be excluded altogether.
Yet,
even if these more pessimistic assumptions do not materialise,
deepening economic integration with China and other emerging markets
could nonetheless provide the basis for three unwanted developments, the
first of which goes to domestic political economy questions. Western
firms with strong stakes in emerging markets also become vested
interests in not rocking the political boat, including with respect to
policies that may be designed to check or restrain the military and
other capabilities of rising powers. The most obvious example of these
dynamics is in the politics of export controls on China, but the issue
can be replicated in any emerging market where firms have stakes that
may not comport with the strategic interests of their home governments.
The
growing weight of emerging markets also complicates diplomacy by
reducing leverage. The ability to coordinate sanctions on countries such
as North Korea, Iran and Syria constitutes an example of the dilemma.
As North Korea has been sanctioned by the United States, Japan and South
Korea, the pattern of its trade has shifted ineluctably towards China.
This shift gives China greater leverage in theory, but it has to date
chosen not to exercise it, in effect enabling North Korean belligerence.
Similar patterns are in play with Russian support for Iran and Syria.
In
sum, arguments for the commercial peace are highly plausible, but they
constitute a kind of two-edged sword. On the one hand, the advanced
industrial states do remain a substantial, but declining source of final
demand in the world economy. Although South–South trade has grown, the
emerging markets still depend heavily on a world economy dominated by
the North. Yet, at the same time, it is undeniable that a shift in
patterns of final demand is taking place, and new lines of commercial
influence are developing among emerging markets. These commercial ties
not only provide the foundation for influence, but they weaken the
capacity of the advanced industrial states to sanction, constrain or
even engage adversaries operating in ‘parallel universes’ of
international trade. These problems of influence are particularly
visible in states that largely eschew interdependence with the world
economy or enjoy the immunities granted by endowments of valued natural
resources: North Korea, Iran, Syria and Venezuela provide examples from
the headlines, but they by no means exhaust the list.
Conclusions: Structure and the Limits to Strategy
Post-Cold
War triumphalism has given way to a more sober view of the foreign
policy challenges associated with a more multipolar world characterised
by rising middle income countries. Realists argue that it is impossible
to divine intentions, that intentions can change, and that the prudent
policy is to balance against rising power rather than to accommodate it.
In this view of the world, serious conflicts of interest are
unavoidable, and neither international institutions nor economic
interdependence provide much solace.
Against
these arguments, liberals have countered that clever strategy can
prolong the Pax Americana—the world shaped by the United States and its
European and Asian allies—perhaps into the indefinite future.
International institutions provide one tool for incorporating and
socialising rising actors; indeed, they might even be convinced to share
the burdens of providing public goods through collective leadership.
Moreover, the collapse of state socialism has left few ideological
alternatives to the market. Try as they might, the successful emerging
markets have little choice but to engage in the world economy.
I
have argued that while liberal theories of international relations are
certainly plausible, the liberal canon by no means drives towards a
sanguine view of the current international order. There are at least
three sources of liberal caution if not outright pessimism. The first
and most fundamental has to do with the nature of domestic politics in
the developing world. There is ample evidence that democracies pose
fewer risks than authoritarian regimes, and as a result there are fewer
risks in accommodating them; US accommodation of Indian nuclear
ambitions provides a virtual textbook case of how domestic political
institutions influenced grand strategy. The problem is that a number of
emerging powers—most notably China and Russia—are not democratic. Nor
are rising autocracies the only source of the foreign policy challenges
the United States and its allies face; indeed, some of our worst policy
headaches emanate not from rising powers but from static or even
declining autocracies that nonetheless appear politically stable: Iran
and North Korea are examples. In addition to these problems, even larger
challenges have been posed by interventions in failed states that
appeared to pose asymmetric threats but ended up as conventional
quagmires.
Cutting
across regime type is the problem of conflicts that arise out of
nationalist strategies of legitimation. These strategies have emerged in
both transitional democracies and in authoritarian regimes, fearful
that instrumental appeals will ultimately be used against them. However,
just as authoritarian leaders are concerned about delivering on
material promises, so can they be pinned down by publics over
nationalist promises as well.
Second,
the political payoffs from institutions should not be oversold either.
Institutions facilitate cooperation, but as social scientists have
noted, there is selection into international institutions; its fine to
say that cooperation is good, but the conditions for effective
cooperation are bounded. Emerging markets bring quite different domestic
structures, institutions and preferences to the table, all of which
complicate bargaining over new rules and enforcement of existing ones.
The politics of international institutions have become more contentious,
with the largest risk being not collapse but simply deadlock; this risk
is most evident in the areas of trade and climate change.
Finally,
interdependence offers an important source of moderation, particularly
as the division of labour becomes more intricate through the growth of
international production networks. But as with our discussion of
democracy, many of our adversaries are weakly integrated into world
markets or are integrated with countries—including the emerging
markets—that do not share our policy preoccupations. Others are capable
of finessing the constraints of interdependence on policy through their
power in particular commodity markets; it is perhaps not coincidental
that a number of our most thorny policy problems arise from oil
exporters, including not only the usual suspects—Russia, Venezuela and
Iran—but Saudi Arabia as well.
The
policy implications of this cautionary tale are by no means
straightforward, but it may nonetheless support a liberal foreign policy
agenda. First, we need to worry less about balancing power and more
about a diplomacy that will help shape domestic political change in a
more open and less nationalistic direction. As the United States
withdraws from Iraq and Afghanistan, it hopefully walks away with some
painful lessons about the risks of regime change in countries with few
of the prerequisites for robust democratic rule. But in those countries
where endogenous processes of democratisation are at work—however
messy—we should be aggressively supporting them; the Middle East remains
the central theatre in this regard. With respect to more durable
authoritarian regimes, the findings here suggest that the greatest risk
of containment strategies is not in the short-run spiral responses they
may generate. The greatest danger of standing firm may lie in shaping
the domestic political arena in ways that are adverse to our long-term
interests, particularly in generating nationalist enmity.
With
respect to multilateral cooperation, a strategy of engagement is
certainly better than the costly unilateral posture that the United
States struck in the wake of 9/11. But we need to be modest about what
can be achieved through broad multilateral ventures; the era of the
grand bargain, such as achieved in the Uruguay Round trade negotiations
or held out as a promise with respect to climate change, may be over. As
a result, it will be imperative to adjust expectations of what can be
achieved through broad groupings, such as the G20 and the East Asia
Summit, and look to smaller groupings of like-minded states that can
generate more demonstrable gains from cooperation. The Trans-Pacific
Partnership will be a critical test of the ‘cascade’ theory of
institutionalisation, under which membership in high-yielding agreements
serves to attract new members.
Finally,
continued economic absorption of new entrants probably poses the
greatest policy challenge looking forward. The moderating gains from
greater economic integration are real but so are the costs. After
see-sawing for several decades, evidence once again appears to be
mounting that the economic integration of newcomers, and particularly
China, can in fact have deleterious effects on employment and wages in
the advanced industrial states. As on so many other fronts, the ultimate
liberal warning is that domestic politics and political economy in the
United States—the capacity to resolve fiscal fights, invest in needed
public goods, including human capital and return to robust growth—will
be a more important determinant of international politics than grand
strategy as typically conceived.
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