OCT 22 1968

The Brookings Institution

1775 MASSACHUSETTS AVENUE N.W. / WASHINGTON D.C. 20036 / CABLES: BROOKINST / TELEPHONE: 202 HUDSON 3-8919

October 17, 1968

Professor Henry A. Kissinger
Center for International Affairs
Harvard University
6 Divinity Avenue
Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138

Dear Professor Kissinger:

Here is a Xerox copy of the edited version of your chapter. Would you please review it and let me know whether you have any objections to the editorial suggestions or any last-minute changes.

Because of our tight production schedule, we are skipping the galley proof stage. Thus we want to be sure that the manuscript is fully in accord with your wishes before it is set in type. You will see page proofs within ten days, and at that time you will have a chance to make final corrections. But changes will have to be limited to correction of typographical and other errors.

The editors have been instructed (1) to follow Brookings editorial style so that the treatment of capitalization, punctuation and so on will be consistent throughout the book, (2) to eliminate repetition and unnecessary words, and (3) to suggest revisions of sentences that seem ambiguous or awkward. You, of course, have the final say on such editorial changes.

To expedite production, would you please call me collect as soon as you have been able to review the editorial changes suggested on the enclosed Xerox copy—within two days after you receive it, if possible. If you wish to discuss any of the editorial details, you may call the editor, Mrs. Nancy Romoser.

Enclosure

CENTRAL ISSUES OF AMERICAN FOREIGN POLICY

<table><tr><td>I</td><td>The Structural Problem</td><td>1 - 7</td></tr><tr><td>II</td><td>The Limits of Bipolarity: The Nature of Power in the Modern Period</td><td>8 - 14</td></tr><tr><td>III</td><td>Bipolarity and Multipolarity: A Conceptual Problem</td><td>15 - 29</td></tr><tr><td>IV</td><td>Political Multipolarity: The Changed Nature of Alliances</td><td>30 - 48</td></tr><tr><td>V</td><td>An Inquiry Into the American National Interest</td><td>49 - 56</td></tr></table>

# I. THE STRUCTURAL PROBLEM

The Twentieth Century has known little repose. Since the turn of the century, international crises have been increasing in both frequency and severity. The contemporary unrest, although less apocalyptic than the two world wars which spawned it, is even more profoundly revolutionary in nature.

The essence of a revolution is that it appears to contemporaries as a series of more or less unrelated upheavals. The temptation is great to treat each issue as an immediate and isolated problem which once surmounted will permit the fundamental stability of the international order to reassert itself.

But the crises which form the headlines of the day are symptoms of deep-seated structural problems. The international system which produced stability for a century collapsed under the impact of two world wars. The age of the superpowers, which temporarily replaced it, is nearing its end. The current international environment is in turmoil because its essential elements, are in flux simultaneously, requiring a reassessment of structural and conceptual problems, as well as a new look at the policy issues treated elsewhere in this volume.

For the first time in history, foreign policy has become global. In the past, the various continents conducted their foreign policy essentially in isolation. Throughout much of history, the foreign policy of Europe was scarcely affected by

1. Others in this series are dealing with specific policy issues. This paper will concentrate on structural and conceptual problems.

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events in Asia. When, in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the European powers extended their influence throughout the world, they were the ones to make the decisions. However, the effective decisions remained with a few great European capitals. Today, statesmen face the unprecedented problem of formulating a policy toward well over a hundred countries. Geopolitical isolation no longer exists. Every nation, no matter how insignificant, participates in international affairs. Ideas are transmitted almost instantaneously. What used to be considered the most domestic event has world-wide consequences.

The revolutionary character of our age can be summed up in the following general statements:

*   **Under three aspects:**
    *   (a) the number of participants in the international order has increased and their nature has altered;
    *   (b) the technical ability of these participants to affect each other has vastly grown;
    *   (c) the scope of states' purposes has expanded.

Whenever the participants of the international system change, a period of profound dislocation is inevitable. This change can occur because new states enter the political system, because there is or it can originate in a change in values as to what constitutes a legitimate rule. Finally, it can come about because of the reduction in influence of some traditional units. In our period, all of these factors have combined. Since the end of the Second World War, several scores of new states have come into being.

The emergence of even a few new nations in the nineteenth century produced decades of adjustment. The post-World War I world never assimilated the successor states of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Our age has yet to find a structure which matches the responsibilities of the new nations to their aspirations.

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As the number of participants has increased, technology has multiplied the resources available for the conduct of foreign policy and the domestic structure has increased the ability of states to mobilize them. A scientific revolution has, for all practical purposes, removed technical limits from the exercise of power in foreign policy. It has magnified insecurities because it has made survival seem to depend on the accidents of a technological breakthrough. As long as the states' ability to mobilize resources was limited, the severity of their conflicts had definite bounds. The impact of eighteenth century foreign policy was relatively benign at least in part because custom restricted the demands the rulers by "divine right" could make upon their subjects. Similar limitations obtained through much of the nineteenth century.

Our period has seen the culmination of a process started by the French Revolution: the basing of governmental legitimacy on popular support. Even totalitarian regimes are aberrations of a democratic legitimacy; they depend on popular consensus even when they manufacture it through propaganda and pressure. In such a situation, the consensus is decisive, limitations of tradition are essentially irrelevant. It is an ironic result of the democratization of politics that it has enabled states to marshall ever more resources for conflict.

Ideological conflict compounds these dislocations. In the great periods of diplomacy, diplomats spoke the same language, not only in the sense that French was the lingua franca, but more importantly because they tended to understand intangibles in the same manner. A similar outlook about aims and methods eases the tasks of diplomacy — it may even be a precondition for it.

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In the absence of such a
consensus, diplomats can still meet, but they lose the ability
to persuade. More time is spent on defining contending positions
than in resolving them. What seems most reasonable to one side
will appear most problematical to the other.

When there is ideological conflict, political loyalties no longer necessarily coincide with national boundaries. Conflicts among states merge with divisions within nations; the dividing line between domestic and foreign policy begins to disappear. At least some states feel threatened not only by the foreign policy of other countries, but also, and perhaps especially, by domestic transformations. A liberalized /democratic/ regime in Prague ¹⁄₂ which had in no way challenged Soviet pre-eminence in foreign policy ¹⁄₂ caused the Kremlin to believe that its vital interests were threatened and to /occupy/ the country without even the pretext of legality.

ideological conflict
The tensions produced by this state-of-affairs are exacerbated by the reduction in influence of the pre-World War II power that were the great-powers. As a result, the world has become bipolar, on the military plane. Only two powers ¹⁄₂ the United States and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics ¹⁄₂ possess the full panoply of military might. Over the next decade, no other country or

Italics not nec. to convey irony.

CONSIDER THE

BEFORE THE

FIRST

OK
MAYBE

EDITOR: GREAT POWER IS A
GENERIC POWER

POWER IS A
GENERIC POWER

the nations that were
most powerful before...

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group of countries will be capable of challenging their physical pre-eminence. Indeed, the gap in military strength between the two giant nuclear countries and the rest of the world is likely to increase rather than diminish over that period. Moreover, the two superpowers have the ideology, the self-confidence, and technical resources to try to order affairs on a global scale.

Military bipolarity is a source of rigidity in foreign policy. The guardians of the equilibrium of the 19th Century were prepared to respond to change with counter-adjustment; the policymakers of the superpowers in the second half of the 20th Century have much less confidence in the ability of the equilibrium to right itself after disturbance. Whatever "balance" there is between the superpowers is regarded as both precarious and inflexible. In a bipolar world loses the perspective for the adjustment; a gain for one side appears as an absolute loss for the other. Every issue seems to involve a question of survival. The smaller countries are torn between a desire for protection and a wish to escape big power dominance. Each of the superpowers is beset by the desire to maintain its pre-eminence among its allies, to increase its influence among the uncommitted, and its relations to its opponent. The fact that some of these objectives may well prove incompatible adds to the strain on the international system.

But the age of the superpowers is now drawing to an end. Military bipolarity has not only failed to prevent, it has actually encouraged political multipolarity. Weaker allies have

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good reason to believe that their defense is in the overwhelming interest
of
in their senior partner. Hence, they see no need to purchase its support
by acquiescence in its policies. The new nations feel protected by the
rivalry of the superpowers, and their nationalism leads to even stronger
assertions of self-will. Traditional uses of power have become less
feasible, while new forms of pressure have emerged as a result of trans-
national loyalties and weak domestic structures.

This political multipolarity does not necessarily guarantee stability. Rigidity is diminished, but so is manageability. Nationalism may succeed in curbing the pre-eminence of the superpowers; it remains to be seen whether it can supply an integrating concept of order more successfully in this century than in the last. Few countries have the interest and only the superpowers have the resources to become informed about global issues. The result is a diplomacy often geared to domestic politics and more concerned with striking a pose than contributing to international order. Equilibrium is difficult to achieve among states widely divergent in values, goals, expectations and backgrounds of previous experience.

This, then, is the structural challenge of the contemporary international
system: the greatest need of the international community is an agreed concept
of order. In its absence, the awesome available power is unrestrained by any
consensus as to legitimacy; ideology and nationalism in their different ways
deepen international schisms. Many of the elements of stability which

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characterized the international system in the nineteenth century
cannot be recreated in the modern age. The stable technology,
the multiplicity of major powers, the limited domestic claims,
and the frontiers which permitted adjustments are gone forever.
But stability will prove elusive in the absence of some concept
of international structure.

This problem is particularly serious for the United States.
Whatever our intentions or policies, the fact that the United
States disposes of the greatest single aggregate of material
power in the world is inescapable. A new international order
is inconceivable without a significant American contribution.
But the nature of this contribution has altered. For the two
decades after 1945, our international activities were based
on the assumption that technology plus managerial skills gave us
the ability to reshape the international system and to bring
about domestic transformations in "emerging countries." This
direct "operational" concept of international order has proved
too simple. Political multipolarity makes it impossible to
impose an American design. Our deepest challenge will be to
evoke the creativity of a pluralistic world, to base order on
political multipolarity even though overwhelming military strength
will remain with the two superpowers.

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bears a rational relationship to the objectives likely to be
in dispute. The paradox of contemporary military strength
is that a gargantuan increase in power has eroded its
relationship to policy. The major nuclear powers are
capable of devastating each other. But they have great
difficulty translating this power into policy except to
prevent direct challenges to their own survival -- and this
condition is interpreted with increasing strictness. The
capacity to destroy is difficult to translate into a plausible
threat even against countries with no capacity for retaliation.
The margin of superiority of the superpowers over the other
states is widening; yet other nations have an unprecedented scope
for autonomous action. In relations with many domestically weak
countries, a radio transmitter can be a more effective form of
pressure than a squadron of B-52s. In other words, power no
longer translates automatically into influence. This does not
mean that impotence increases influence, only that power does
not automatically confer it.

This state of affairs has profound consequences for tradi-
tional notions of balance of power. In the past, stability has
always presupposed the existence of an equilibrium of power which
prevented one state from imposing its will on the others.

The traditional criteria for the balance of power were
territorial. A state could gain overwhelming superiority only
by conquest; hence, as long as territorial expansion was fore-
closed, or severely limited, the equilibrium was likely to be
preserved. In the contemporary period, this is no longer true.

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Some conquests add little to effective military strength; major increases in power are possible entirely through developments within the territory of a sovereign state. China gained more in real military power through the acquisition of nuclear weapons than if it had conquered all of Southeast Asia. If the Soviet Union had occupied Western Europe but had remained without nuclear weapons, it would be less powerful than it is now with its existing nuclear arsenal within its present borders. In other words, the really fundamental changes in the balance of power have all occurred within the territorial limits of sovereign states. Clearly, there is an urgent need to analyze just what is understood by power -- as well as by balance of power -- in the nuclear age.

This would be difficult enough were technology stable. It becomes enormously complicated when a scientific revolution produces an upheaval in weapons technology at five-year intervals. Slogans like "superiority," "parity," "assured destruction," compete unencumbered by clear definitions of their operational military significance, much less a consensus on their political implications. The gap between experts and decision makers is widening. The decision maker rarely has as many hours to study a problem as the expert has years. The result is that the decision maker runs the risk of unprecedented dependence on his technical staff. He is informed by "briefings," a procedure which stresses theatrical qualities and leaves its target with the uneasy feeling that he has been "taken," even ¹⁄₂ or perhaps especially ¹⁄₄ when he does not know exactly how. Decisions may

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reflect an attempt to ward off conflicting pressures rather
than a clear conception of long-range purposes.

In short, as power has grown more awesome, it
it has also turned abstract, intangible, elusive. Deterrence
has become the dominant military policy. But deterrence
depends above all on psychological criteria. It seeks to
keep an opponent from a given course by posing unacceptable
risks. For purposes of deterrence, the opponent's calculations
are decisive. A bluff taken seriously is more useful than a
serious threat interpreted as a bluff. For political purposes,
the meaningful measurement of military strength is the assess-
ment of it by the other side. Psychological criteria vie in
importance with strategic doctrine.

The abstract nature of modern power affects domestic
disputes profoundly. Deterrence is tested negatively by things
which do _not_ happen. But it is never possible to demonstrate
_why_ something has not occurred. Is it because we are pursuing
the best possible policy or only a marginally effective one?
Bitter debate even among those who believe in the necessity of
defense policy is inevitable and bound to be inconclusive.
The longer peace is maintained _not_ or

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the more successful deterrence is $\frac{1}{M}$ the more it furnishes arguments for
those who are opposed to the very premises of defense policy. Perhaps
there was no need for preparedness in the first place because the opponent
never meant to attack? In the modern state, national security is likely
to be a highly divisive domestic issue.

The enormity of modern power has destroyed its cumulative impact
to a considerable extent. Throughout history the use of force set a
precedent; it symbolized a demonstrated capacity to use power for national
ends. In the 20th Century any use of force sets up inhibitions against
resorting to it again. Whatever the outcome of the war in Vietnam, it is clear
that it has greatly diminished American willingness to resist this form of
warfare elsewhere. Its utility as a precedent has therefore been importantly
undermined.

The nature of modern power has been partially obscured by the
enormous strategic superiority which the United States possessed until
recently. A limit was placed on challenges by the consciousness that an
America
United States preemptive attack was at least conceivable. This degree of
superiority no longer exists and cannot be regained under foreseeable cir-
cumstances. Future crises -- some of which may not be deliberately
caused - will take place against a background of what will amount to
a parity whatever the numerical relationship.

(Continued on page 12A)

- 12A -

The difficulty of forming a conception of power is paralleled by the problem of how to use it diplomatically. In the past, measures to increase readiness signaled the mounting seriousness with which an issue was viewed. But such measures have become less obvious and more dangerous when weapons are always at a high state of readiness [M] and are hidden either under the ground or under the oceans. With respect to nuclear weapons, signaling increased readiness will either prove unsuccessful or, if the signal is received, may trigger a preemptive strike.

Even when only conventional weapons are involved, the problem of what constitutes a politically meaningful threat is increasingly complicated. After the capture of the "Pueblo," the United States called up 13 thousand reservists and moved an aircraft carrier into the waters of Korea. Did the fact that we had to call up reserve forces when challenged by a fifth-rate military power convey that we meant to act or that we were overextended? Did the move of the aircraft carrier indicate a decision to retaliate or was it intended primarily to strike a pose? What indeed was the appropriate response?

Sometimes these measures got out of control; the mobilization schedules were one of the principal reasons for the outbreak of World War II.

(Continued on page 13)

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administration should move quickly to bring about such a review.

It should deal with some of the following problems: (a) a definition of the national interest and national security over the next decade; (b) the nature of military power in that period; (c) the relationship of military power to political influence; (d) implications and feasibility (both military and political) of various postures -- superiority, parity, etc.;

(e) the implications (both political and military) of new developments such as MIRV (multiple warheads) and ballistic missile defenses; (f) the prospects for arms control including specific measures to moderate the arms race.

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III.

IV. BIPOLARITY AND MULTIPOLARITY: THE CONCEPTUAL PROBLEM

In the years ahead, the most profound challenge to American policy is philosophical: to develop some concept of order in a world which is bipolar militarily but multipolar politically. But a philosophical deepening, however necessary, will not come easily to those brought up in the American tradition of foreign policy.

Our political society was one of the few which was **consciously created** at a point in time. At least until the emergence of the race problem, we were blessed by the absence of conflicts between classes and conflicts over ultimate ends. The lessons of two world wars seem to many Americans to be that we saved the world twice in a century.

These factors produce the characteristic aspects of American foreign policy: a certain manipulativeness and pragmatism, a conviction that the normal pattern of international relations was harmonious, a reluctance to think in structural terms, a belief in final answers -- all qualities which reflect a sense of self-sufficiency not far removed from a sense of omnipotence. Yet the contemporary dilemma is that there are no total solutions; we will live in a world gupped by revolutions in technology, values and institutions. We are immersed in an unending process, not in a quest for a final destination. The deepest problems of equilibrium are not physical but psychological or moral. The shape of the future will depend ultimately on convictions which far transcend the physical balance of power.

Yet the traditional foreign policy manifestations are not the most significant aspect of the turmoil of the new countries. It is in the new countries that the issue of the purpose of political life and the meaning of political legitimacy -- key issues also in the modern state -- pose themselves in their most acute form. The new nations weigh little in the physical balance of power. But the forces unleashed in the emergence of so many new states may well affect the moral balance of the world -- the convictions which form the structure for the world of tomorrow, adding a new dimension to the problem of multipolarity.

Almost all of the new countries suffer from the revolutionary malaise: revolutions succeed through the coming together of all resentments. But the degree to which the existing structures are eliminated compounds the difficulty of establishing political consensus. A successful revolution leaves as its legacy a profound dislocation. In the new countries, contrary to all revolutionary expectations, the task of construction has emerged as less glamorous and more complex than the struggle for freedom; the exaltation of the quest for independence cannot be perpetuated. Sooner or later, positive goals must replace resentment of the former colonial power as a motive force. In the absence of autonomous social forces, this unifying role must be performed by the state.

But this produces another cause of instability. When social cohesiveness is slight, the struggle for control of is correspondingly more authority becomes increasingly bitter. When government is the

18

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principal, sometimes the sole expression of national identity,
opposition tends to be considered treason. The profound social
or religious schisms of many of the new nations turn the control
of political authority quite literally into a matter of life and
death. Where political obligation follows racial, religious, or
tribal lines, self-restraint breaks down. Domestic conflicts
assume the character of civil war. Such traditional authority
as exists is personal or feudal. The problem is to make it
"legitimate" to develop a nation of political obligation
which depends on legal norms rather than on the existence of
coercive power or merely personal loyalty.

This process took centuries in Europe. It must be
accomplished in decades in the new nations, where preconditions of
success are less favorable than at comparable periods in Europe.
In addition, the new countries are subject to foreign pressures,
which Europe was spared. There is a premium on foreign
adventures to bring about domestic cohesiveness.

The American role in the efforts of building legitimate
authority is in need of serious examination. The dominant
American view about political structure has been that it will
follow more or less automatically upon economic progress and that
it will then take the form of constitutional democracy.

Both assumptions are subject to serious questions. In
every advanced country, political stability preceded rather than
emerged from the process of industrialization. Where the
rudiments of popular institutions did not exist at the beginning
of the industrial revolution, they did not receive their impetus

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from it. To be sure, representative institutions were broadened and elaborated as the countries prospered, but their significant features antedated economic development and are not attributable to it. In fact, the system of government which whether popular or authoritarian, which brought about industrialization, has tended to be confirmed by this achievement, rather than radically changed.

Nor is democracy a natural evolution of nationalism. In the last century, it was started by an aristocratic ruling class whose estimate of itself was founded outside the political process. It was buttressed by a middle-class, holding a political philosophy which was considered important social forces rather than the principal focus of national consciousness. Professional revolutionaries were rarely involved; their bias is seldom democratic.

The pluralism of the West had many causes which cannot be duplicated elsewhere. These included a church organization outside the control of the state and therefore symbolizing the limitation of government power; the Graeco-Roman philosophical tradition of justice based on human dignity, reinforced later by the Christian ethic; an emerging bourgeoisie; a stalemate in religious wars imposing tolerance as a practical necessity and a multiplicity of states. Industrialization was by no means the most significant of these factors. Had any of the others been missing, the Western political evolution could have been quite different.

Communism has never succeeded in the industrialized countries for which its theory was devised; its greatest successes

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[x]

developing
have been in agricultural societies. This is no accident.
Industrialization -- in its early phases -- multiplies dis-
locations. It smashes the traditional framework. It requires
a system of values which makes the sacrifices involved in
capital formation tolerable and which furnishes some integrating
principles to contain psychological frustrations.

Communism is able to supply legitimacy for the sacrifices
inseparable from capital formation in an age when the maxims of
laisser-faire are no longer acceptable. Too much Leninism has the
attraction of providing a rationale for holding on to power.
Many of the leaders of the new countries are revolutionaries
who sustained themselves through the struggle for independence
by visions of the transformations to be brought about after
victory. They are not predisposed even to admit the possibility
of giving up power in their hour of triumph. Since they usually
began their struggle for independence while in a small minority
and sustained it against heavy odds, they are not likely to be
repelled by the notion that it is possible to "force men to be
free."

(Continue on page 35A)

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[y]

developing societies. This is no accident. have been in agricultural societies. Industrialization M --- in its early phases M --- multiplies dis- locations. It smashes the traditional framework. It requires a system of values which makes the sacrifices involved in capital formation tolerable and which furnishes some integrating principles to contain psychological frustrations.

Communism is able to supply legitimacy for the sacrifices inseparable from capital formation in an age when the maxims of laisser-faire are no longer acceptable. Too much attraction of providing a rationale for holding on to power. Many of the leaders of the new countries are revolutionaries who sustained themselves through the struggle for independence by visions of the transformations to be brought about after victory. They are not predisposed even to admit the possibility of giving up power in their hour of triumph. Since they usually began their struggle for independence while in a small minority and sustained it against heavy odds, they are not likely to be repelled by the notion that it is possible to "force men to be free."

(Continue on page 35A)

- 35A -

The ironic feature of the current situation is that Marxism, professing a materialistic philosophy, is accepted only where it does not exist: in some new countries and among protest movements of the advanced democratic countries. Its appeal is its idealistic component and not its economic theory. It offers a doctrine of substantive change and an explanation of final purposes. Its philosophy has been a total failure-inspiring the younger generation in Communist countries where its bureaucratic reality is obvious.

On the other hand, the United States, professing an idealistic

(Continued on page 36)

philosophy, often fails because of its heavy reliance on economic factors.

It has answers to technical dislocations but has not been able to contribute much less to building a political and moral consensus. It offers a procedure for change but little content for it.

The problem of political legitimacy is the key to political stability in regions containing two-thirds of the world's population. An American agenda must include some conception of what we understand by it. In an age of instantaneous communication, we cannot pretend that what happens to over two-thirds of humanity is of no concern or interest to the United States. This does not mean that our goal should be to transfer American institutions to the new nations we define even less that we should impose them. Nor should the problem be-defined-as how to prevent the spread of Communism. The issue is the problem of building a moral consensus which can make a pluralistic world creative rather than destructive.

Irrelevance to one of the great revolutions of our time will mean that we will ultimately be engulfed by it if not physically, then psychologically. Already some of the protest movements have made heroes of leaders in repressive new countries. The absurdity of founding a claim for freedom on protagonists of the totalitarian state such as Guevara or Ho or Mao underlines the fact that the travail of the new countries affects older societies which share none of their technical but some of their spiritual problems especially the problem of the nature of authority in the modern world. To a young generation in rebellion

23 - 37 -

against bureaucracy and bored with material comfort, these societies offer at least the challenge of unlimited opportunity (and occasionally unlimited manipulativeness) in the quest for justice.

A world which is bipolar militarily and multipolar politically thus confronts an additional problem. Side by side with the physical balance of power, there exists a psychological balance based on intangibles of value and belief. The presuppositions of the physical equilibrium have changed drastically; those of the psychological balance remain yet to be discovered.

## b. The Problem of Soviet Intentions

Nothing has been more difficult for Americans to assimilate than the fact that in the nuclear age, even enmity is complex. In the Soviet Union, we confront an opponent whose public pronouncements are insistently hostile. Yet the nuclear age imposes a degree of cooperation and absolute limit to which conflicts can be pushed.

The military relationship with the Soviet Union is difficult enough; the political one confronts us with a profound conceptual problem. A society which regards peace as the normal condition tends to ascribe tension not to structural causes but to wicked or shortsighted individuals. Peace is thought to result either from the automatic operation of economic forces or from the emergence of a more benign leadership abroad.

The debate about Soviet trends between "hard-liners" and "soft-liners" illustrates this problem. Both sides tend to agree

24 - 38 -

[Y]

that the purpose of American policy is to bring about a more benign evolution of Soviet society (the original purpose of containment was, after all, supposed to bring about the domestic transformation of the USSR. They are at one that a settlement presupposes a change in the Soviet system. Both groups give the impression that the nature of a possible settlement is perfectly obvious (the apostles of containment never defined what would be the American policy to be undertaken from the position negotiating program for the situation of strength their policy was designed to achieve. Nor have the advocates of relaxation of tensions been more concerned with atmosphere than with the substance of talks.

In fact, the difference between the "hawks" and "doves" has usually concerned an issue of timing: the "hawks" have maintained that a Soviet change of heart, while inevitable, was still in the future, whereas the "doves" have argued that it has already taken place. Many of the "hawks" tend to consider all negotiations as fruitless. Many of the "doves" argue (or did before Czechoslovakia (that the biggest step toward peace has already been accomplished by a Soviet change of heart about the cold war; negotiations need only remove some essentially technical obstacles.

This (difference) affects and sometimes poisons (the entire American debate about foreign policy. Left-wing critics of American foreign policy seem incapable of attacking United States' actions without elevating our opponent (whether it happens to be Mao or Castro or Ho) (to a pedestal). If they

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discern some stupidity or self-interest on our side, they assume
that the other side must be virtuous. They then criticize the
United States for opposing the other side. The "Right" follows
the same logic in reverse: they presuppose our good intentions
and conclude that the other side must be perverse in opposing us.
Both the Left and the Right judge largely in terms of intentions.

They start with a view of America (which they think they understand) and then attribute the opposite moral quality to the other side. In the process, whatever the issue — whether Berlin or Vietnam — more attention is paid to whether to get to the conference room than what to do once we arrive there. The dispute over Communist intentions has diverted attention from elaborating our own purposes. The test of dedication to peace has been whether one interprets Soviet intentions in the most favorable manner.

It should be obvious, however, that the Soviet domestic situation is complex and its relationship to foreign policy far from obvious. It is true that the risks of general nuclear war should be as unacceptable to Moscow as to Washington; but this truism does not automatically produce détente. It can also be used to lessen the risks involved in local intervention. No doubt the current generation of Communist leaders lacks the ideological dynamism of their predecessors who made the revolution; at the same time, they have at their disposal a military machine of unprecedented strength, and they must deal with a bureaucracy of formidable vested interests. (After all, senior elements in the Soviet hierarchy must have felt sufficiently

- 40 -

threatened by freedom of the press in Prague to unleash the
(Red Army for the third time in a decade and a half against an
allied country.) Unquestionably, the Communist consumers press
their leaders to satisfy their demands; but it is equally true that
an expanding modern economy is able to supply both guns and
butter. Some Soviet leaders may have become more pragmatic;
But in an elaborated Communist state, the conclusions of
pragmatism are complex. Once power is seized and industrialization
is largely accomplished, the Communist party faces a
difficult situation. It is not needed to conduct the government, and
it has no real function in running the economy (though it tries
to do both). In order to justify its continued existence and
command, it may develop a vested interest in vigilance against
outside danger and thus in perpetuating a fairly high level of
tension.

It is beyond the scope of this essay to go into detail
on the issue of internal Communist evolution. But it may be
appropriate to inquire why, in the past, every period of détente
has proved stillborn. There have been at least five periods
of peaceful coexistence since the Bolshevik seizure of power,
one in each decade of the existence of the Soviet state. Each
was hailed in the West as ushering in a new era of reconciliation
and as signifying the long-awaited final change in Soviet
purposes. Each ended abruptly with a new period of intransigence,
which was then generally ascribed to a victory of Soviet "hard=
liners" rather than to the dynamics of the system. There were
undoubtedly many reasons for this. But the tendency of many in the West

- 27 -
- 41 -

to be content with changes of Soviet tone and to confuse
atmosphere with substance surely did not help matters. This
has enabled the Communist leaders to postpone the choice which
they must make sooner or later: whether to use *détente* as a
device to lull the West or whether to move to a resolution of
the outstanding differences. A long time is needed to Postpone the
technical choice in turn. exists
leaves open the possibility that latent crises may run away
with the principal protagonists as happened in the Middle East
and perhaps even in Czechoslovakia.

The eagerness of many in the West to emphasize the
liberalizing implications of Soviet economic trends and to
make a favorable interpretation of Soviet intentions a test of
good faith may have the paradoxical consequence of strengthening
the Soviet "hard-liners". Soviet troops had hardly arrived
in Prague when some Western leaders began to The invasion
affect the quest for détente while others continued to indicate
meetings. Such an attitude hardly serves the cause of peace. The risk is
great that if there is no penalty for intransigence, there is
no incentive for conciliation. The Kremlin may use negotiations
including arms control as a safety valve to dissipate Western
suspicions rather than as a serious endeavor to resolve concrete
disputes or to remove the scourge of nuclear war.

If we focus our policy discussions on Soviet purposes, we
confuse the debate in two ways: (1) Soviet trends are too
ambiguous to offer a reliable guide; it is possible that not
even Soviet leaders fully understand the dynamics of their

system; —it deflects us from articulating our purposes which we should pursue, whatever Soviet intentions. Peace will not, in any event, result from one grand settlement but from a process of adjustment, and this requires some clarity as to our destination. Confusing foreign policy with psychotherapy deprives us of criteria by which to judge real relaxation of tensions.

The obsession with Soviet intentions causes the West to be smug during periods of détente and panicky during crises. A benign Soviet tone is equated with the achievement of peace; Soviet hostility is considered as-ushering-in a new period of tension and evokes usually purely military countermeasures. The West is thus never ready for a Soviet change of course; it has been equally unprepared for détente as-for intransigence.

These lines are being written while the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia is still strong. There is a tendency to focus on the military implications or to speak of strengthening unity in the abstract. But if history is a guide at all, there will be a new Soviet peace offensive sooner or later, — indeed, if Soviet-behavior after the invasion of Hungary

(Continue to page 43)

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is any guide sooner rather than later. Thus, reflecting about the nature of détente seems most important while its realization appears most problematical. If we are not to be doomed to repeat the past, it may be well to learn some of its lessons: We should not again confuse a change of tone with a change of heart. We should not pose false inconsistencies between allied unity and détente; indeed a true relaxation of tensions presupposes Western unity. We should concentrate negotiations on the concrete issues that threaten the peace of the world such as intervention in the Third world. Moderating the arms race must also be high on the agenda. None of this is possible without a concrete idea of what we understand by peace and a creative world order.

### III. POLITICAL MULTIPOLARITY: THE CHANGED NATURE OF ALLIANCES

No area of policy illustrates more dramatically the tensions between political multipolarity and military bipolarity than the field of alliance policy. For a decade and a half after the Second World War, the United States identified security with alliances. A global network of relationships grew up based on the proposition that deterrence of aggression required the largest possible grouping of powers.

This system of alliances was always in difficulty outside the Atlantic area because it tried to apply principles drawn from the multipolar world of eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when several major powers of roughly equal strength existed. Then, indeed, it was impossible for one country to achieve dominance if several others combined to prevent it. But this was not the case in the era of the superpowers of the forties and fifties. Outside Europe, our allies added to our strength only marginally; they were in no position to reinforce each other's capabilities.

Alliances, to be effective, must meet four conditions:
(1) a common objective -- usually defense against a common danger;
(2) a degree of joint policy at least sufficient to define the casus belli; (3) some technical means of cooperation in case common action is decided upon; (4) a penalty for noncooperation -- that is the possibility of being refused assistance must exist -- otherwise protection will be taken for granted and the mutuality of obligation will break down.

In the system of alliances developed by the United States after the Second World War, these conditions have never been met outside the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). In the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) and the Central Treaty Organization (CENTO) (to which we belong in all but

name), there has been no recognition of a
motive for obtaining U.S. arms was not security against a
attack, but protection against India. The Arab members of CENTO
armed not against the USSR but against Israel. Lacking a
conception
of common interests, the members of these alliances
have been
able
to develop common policies with respect to issues of war and peace.
Had they been able to do so, these policies might well have been
stillborn anyway, because the technical means of cooperation have
been lacking. Most allies have
neither the resources nor the will
to render mutual support. A state which finds it difficult to main-
tain order or the coherence of policy at home, does not increase its
strength by combining with states suffering similar disabilities.

In these circumstances, SEATO and CENTO have become moribund
as instruments of collective action. Because the United States has
often seemed more eager to engage in the defense of its allies than
they themselves, America's SEATO and CENTO allies have become
convinced that non-cooperation has no cost. Allies have been able
to give the impression that it would be worse for us than for them
if they fell to Communism. As a result, SEATO and CENTO have become,
in effect, unilateral American guarantees. At best, they provide a
legal basis for bilateral U.S. aid.

The case is different with NATO. Here we are united with
countries of similar traditions and domestic structures. At the
start, there was a common conception of the threat. The technical
means for cooperation existed. Mechanisms for developing common policies
came into being, especially in the military field. Thus in its first decade
and a half, NATO was a dynamic and creative institution.

Nevertheless, NATO is today in disarray as well. United States' actions above all, frequent unilateral changes of policy are partially responsible. But the most important cause is the transformation of the international environment, specifically the decline in the preeminence of the superpowers and the emerging political multipolarity. Where the alliances outside of Europe have been never vital because they failed to take into account the military bipolarity of the Fifties, NATO is in difficulties because it has yet to adjust to the political multipolarity of the late Sixties.

When NATO was founded in 1949, Europeans had a dual fear: (1) the danger of an imminent Soviet attack, (2) the prospect of eventual U.S. withdrawal. In the late 1960s, however, the fear of Soviet invasion has declined. Even the attack on Czechoslovakia is likely to restore anxiety about Soviet military aggression only temporarily. At the same time, two decades of American military presence in Europe coupled with American predominance in NATO planning have sharply reduced the fear that America might wash its hands of European concerns. As a result, Europeans neither believe that the need for American support is so urgent as two decades ago nor that U.S. assistance against aggression must be purchased by acquiescence in our policies.

When NATO was formed, moreover, the principal threat to world peace seemed to lie in a Soviet attack on Europe. In recent years, the view has grown that equally grave risks are likely to arise in trouble spots outside of Europe. To most Europeans, these

-18-

[Y]

do not appear as immediate threats to their independence or security. The irony here is striking. In the Fifties, Europeans were asking for American assistance in areas outside of Europe with the argument that they were defending the greater interests of freedom. The United States replied that these very interests required American aloofness. Today, the roles are precisely reversed. It is Europe which evades our entreaties to play a global role; that is to say, Europeans do not consider their interests at stake in America's extra-European involvement.

These are symptoms of deeper, structural problems, however. The growth of Soviet nuclear power was and the changed nature of power in the modern period were bound to affect NATO profoundly. As the risks of nuclear war have become more enormous, the credibility of traditional pledges of support has been inevitably reduced. In the past, a country would carry out a commitment because it could plausibly be argued, that the consequences of not doing so were worse than those of coming to the ally's assistance. This is no longer self-evident. In each of the last three annual statements of the U.S. defense posture, the estimate of dead in a general nuclear war is ranged from 40 to 120 million. This trend will, if anything, accelerate. It will become more and more difficult to demonstrate that anything is worse than the elimination of over half of a society in a matter of days. Basing the defense of NATO increasingly on a variant of the doctrine of massive retaliation complicates the problem even more.

(Continued on page 18a)

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The consciousness of nuclear threat by the two superpowers has undermined allied relationships in yet another way. For understandable reasons, the superpowers have sought to make the nuclear environment more predictable, witness the nuclear test ban treaty and the non-proliferation treaty. At the same time, our allies have seen in the effort to stabilize the strategic environment the possible forerunner of a more comprehensive arrangement about their vital interests without consulting them. Strategic arms talks thus raises the issue of political consensus in acute form. The need has been reinforced by the uncertain American response to the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia -- especially the reluctance to give up the prospect of a summit meeting.

Another aspect of this transformation is the growth of European economic strength and political self-confidence.

At the run on

(continued on page 19)

- 20 -

This situation has been especially difficult for those in the United States who deserve most credit for forging existing Atlantic relations. Two decades of hegemony have produced the illusion that present Atlantic arrangements are "natural," that wise policy consists of making the existing framework more tolerable. "Leadership" and "partnership" are invoked; however, the tendency is not to apply globally the pattern heretofore confined to the Atlantic area. European unity is advocated to enable Europeans to share burdens on a world-wide scale.

Such a view fails to take into account the realities of political multipolarity. The aim of returning to the "great days of the Marshall Plan" is impossible. Nothing would sunder Atlantic relationships so surely as the attempt to reassert the notions of leadership appropriate to the early days of NATO. In the bipolar world of the Forties and Fifties, order could be equated with military security; Integrated command arrangements sufficed as the principal bond of unity. In the Sixties, and Seventies, security, although still important, will not be enough. A new international order requires above all a common political conception. The challenge of the Seventies will be to forge unity from the recognition of a common interest to tap the energies of a pluralistic Atlantic world.

It is not "natural" that the major decisions about the defense of an area so potentially powerful as Western Europe should be made so遠 away. It is not "normal" that U.S. leadership consists of gearing Atlantic policies to American conceptions. In the Forties and Fifties, practicing unity through formal resolutions and periodic reassurances

(Continued on page 20A)

was important. It was useful as a reassurance for Europe and it was
profoundly important for us as a constant symbol of the end of our
isolationism. In the decade ahead, we cannot be aimed at as an end
in itself; it must emerge from common conception and new structures.

(Continued on page 21)

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[Y]

"Burden-sharing" will not supply that impetus. Countries do not assume burdens because it is fair, only because it is necessary. While there are strong arguments for Atlantic partnership and European unity, enabling Europe to play a global role is not one of them. A nation assumes responsibilities not only because it has resources, but because it has a certain view of its own destiny. Through the greater part of its history 1/2 until the Second World War (1938-45) the United States possessed the resources but not the philosophy for a global role. Today, the poorest Western European country 1/2 - Portugal 1/2 - has the widest commitments outside of Europe because its historic image of itself has become bound up with its overseas possessions. This condition is unlikely to be met by any other European country 1/2 - with the possible exception of Great Britain 1/2 - no matter what their increase in power. Partially as the result of decolonization, Europeans are unlikely to conduct a significant global policy whatever their resources or their degree of unity. Cooperation between the United States and some members of the Atlantic group will have to take forms other than global partnership. A basic problem in Atlantic relationships will be to devise partly coordinated, partly divergent policies for the various portions of the world.

Even within the Atlantic area, a more equitable distribution of responsibilities has two prerequisites: (1) there must be some consensus in the analysis of the international situation, at least as it affects Europe; (2) there must be a conviction that the United States cannot or will not carry all the burdens alone.

Neither condition is met today. The traditional notion of American leadership tends to stifle European incentives for autonomy. Improved consultation the remedy usually proposed can only alleviate, not remove the difficulty.

The problem of consultation is complex, of course. No doubt unilateral American action has compounded the uneasiness produced by American predominance and European weakness. The shift in the emphasis of American policy, from the NATO multilateral force to the Non-Proliferation Treaty, the frequent unilateral changes in strategic doctrine, have all tended to produce disquiet and to undermine the domestic position of ministers who had staked their futures on supporting the American viewpoint.

It is far from self-evident, however, that more extensive consultation within the existing framework can be more than a palliative. One problem concerns technical competence. In any large bureaucracy and an international consultative process has many similarities to domestic administrative procedures the weight given to advice bears some relation to the competence it reflects. If one partner possesses all technical competence, the process of consultation is likely to remain barren. The minimum requirement for effective consultation is that each ally have enough knowledge to give meaningful advice.

The NATO nuclear committee has made a great contribution in this respect for the military problem. There are other, even more important

But technical competence aside, there are limits to the process of consultation. The losing party in a domestic dispute has three choices: (a) it can accept the setback with the expectation of winning another battle later

on this is the usual bureaucratic attitude and it is based on the knowledge.
that can be demanded
of being able to force another hearing later on; (b) if advice is consistently
ignored, the losing party or group can resign and go into opposition; (c)
opposition can have the purpose either of inducing the existing government
to change its course or to replace it. If all these avenues are closed,
violence or mounting frustration are the consequences.

Only the first option is open to sovereign states bound together by an
alliance, since they obviously cannot resign or go into opposition without wrecking
their partners' the alliance. They cannot affect the process by which allied decision-makers
are chosen despite the fact that this may be crucial for their fate. Indeed,
as long as the need to maintain the alliance overrides all other concerns,
sustained disagreement is likely to be stifled. Advice without responsibility
and disagreement without an outlet can turn consultation into a frustrating
exercise which compounds rather than alleviates discord.

Consultation is especially difficult when it lacks an integrating
overall framework. The consultation about the Non-Proliferation Treaty
concerned specific provisions but not the underlying general philosophy which
was of the deepest concern to many of our allies, especially the Federal
of Germany
Republic and Italy. During periods of détente, each ally makes its own
approach to Eastern Europe or the USSR without attempting to further
canopy of a coherent
Western enterprise. In these circumstances, consultation runs the risk of
being irrelevant. The issues it "solves" are peripheral; the central issues
are inadequately articulated. It deals haphazardly in answers to undefined
questions.
During periods of crisis, there is pressure for American
unlimited power to apply
common sense.
But not for a clearly defined
philosophy.

- 24 -

This state of affairs is not healthy in the long run. Even with
the best will, the present structure encourages American unilateralism
and European irresponsibility. This is a serious problem for the United
States. If the United States remains the trustee of every non-Communist
area, it will exhaust its psychological resources. No country can act
wisely simultaneously in every part of the globe at every moment of time.

A more pluralistic world -- especially in relationships with friends -- is
profoundly in our long-term interest. Political multipolarity, while difficult, to get
used to is the precondition for a new period of creativity. Painful as it may be to
admit, we could benefit from a counterweight to discipline our occasional
impetuosity and to supply historical perspective to our penchant for abstract
and "final" solutions.

All of this suggests that there is no alternative to European unity
either for the United States or Europe. In its absence, the malaise can only
be alleviated, not ended. In its deepest sense, this is a problem primarily for
the Europeans. In the recent past, the United States has often defeated its
purposes by committing itself to one particular form of European unity --
complicated that of federalism. It has also
British membership in the Common
Market by making it a direct objective of American policy.

In the next decade this architectonic approach to Atlantic policy will
be longer possible. The American contribution must be more philosophical;
it will have to consist more of understanding and quiet, behind-the-scenes
encouragement than in the propagation of formal institutional structures.
Rather

Involved here is the American conception of how nations cooperate. A tradition of legalism and habits of predominance have produced a tendency to multiply formal arrangements, "Integration" has become identified with Atlanticism.

But the emerging political multipolarity forces us to learn that nations cooperate less because they have a legal obligation to do so than because they have common purposes. Command arrangements cannot substitute for common interests. Coordinated diplomacy is even more crucial than Coordinated strategy. The possibility of disagreements on peripheral issues

(Continued on page 26)

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[y]

may be the price for unity where it really matters. The memory
of European impotence and American tutelage should not delude us
into believing that we understand Europe's problems better than it
does itself. Third Force dangers are not avoided by legal formulae,
but
(they are in any event) overdrawn. It is hard to visualize a "deal"
between the Soviet Union and Europe which would jeopardize our
interests without jeopardizing European interests first. Thus,
there are objective limits to Third Force policies. If Europeans
do not understand the requirements of their own survival without
pervasive American tutelage, American tutelage can do little to
help them.
In short, able to substitute for lack of European understanding.
our relations with Europeans are better founded on a balancing of
interests than on the elaboration of formal legal obligations. No
precise blueprint for such an arrangement is possible because
different fields of activity will imply different needs. In the military
field, for example, modern technology will impose a greater degree of
centralization than is necessary in other areas. Whatever their formal
autonomy, it is almost inconceivable that our allies would prefer
to go to war without the United States, support given the relatively small
nuclear forces in prospect for them. Close coordination between
Europe and the United States in the military field is dictated by
self-interest, and Europe has more to gain from it than the United
States.

For this very reason, it is in our interest that Europeans should
assume much greater responsibility for developing doctrine and force
levels in NATO, perhaps by vitalizing such institutions as the West
European Union (WEU), perhaps by creating new structures. The
Supreme Allied Commander should in time become European.

Military arrangements are not enough, however. Under current conditions, no statesman will risk a cataclysm simply to fulfill a legal obligation. The only motive for running the risk of nuclear war is-likely-to-be a degree of political cooperation, which links the fate of each partner with the survival of all the others. This requires an entirely new order of political creativity. - Heretofore, Atlantic political cooperation, has been limited to policies. In the decade ahead, the problem will on developing common issues be to work out a philosophy which makes possible partly coordinated, partly divergent approaches, to problems.

Coordination is especially necessary in East-West relations. The traditional view is that NATO can be as useful an instrument for détente as for defense. This is doubtful at least in NATO's present form. A military alliance, one of the chief cohesive links of which is its integrated command arrangement, is not the best instrument for flexible diplomacy. Turning NATO into an instrument of détente, might reduce its security contribution without achieving a relaxation of tensions.

Moreover, a diplomatic confrontation of NATO and the Warsaw Pact has all the rigidities of a bipolar world. It will raise fears in Western Europe of an American Soviet condominium, and it will tend to legitimize the Soviet hegemonic position in Eastern Europe. Above all, it will fail to take advantage of the flexibility afforded by greater Western European unity and autonomy. As Europe gains structure, its attraction for Eastern Europe is bound to increase. The major initiatives for relations between Western and Eastern Europe should be originated in Europe with the United States in a reserve position.

- 28 -

Such an approach can work only if there is a real consensus as to objectives. Philosophical agreement can make possible flexibility on method. This will require a form of consultation much more substantial than what now exists and a more effective European contribution.

To be sure, events in Czechoslovakia demonstrate the limits of East European autonomy that the Soviet Union is now prepared to tolerate. But the Soviet Union may not be willing indefinitely to continue to use the Red Army primarily against allies as it has done three times in a decade and a half. In any event, no Western policy can guarantee a more favorable evolution in Central Europe; all it can do is to take advantage of the opportunity if it arises.

Policy outside of Europe is likely to be divergent. Given the changed European perspective, an effort to bring about global burden-sharing might only produce stagnation. The allies would be able to agree primarily on doing nothing. Any crisis occurring anywhere would turn automatically and organically into a world-wide, American acceptance of European autonomy implies also European acceptance of understanding for a degree of American autonomy with respect to areas in which, for understandable reasons, European concern has lessened.

In addition, cooperative efforts in entirely new areas should be explored. For example, our space program need not be national. European participation in it could supply an effective answer to the "technological gap".

Finally, under present circumstances, an especially meaningful community of interests can be developed in the social sphere. All modern states face problems of bureaucratization, pollution, environmental control, urban growth. These problems know no national

- 29

considerations. If the nations of the Atlantic work together on these issues -- either through private or governmental channels or both -- a new generation habituated to cooperative efforts could develop similar to that spawned in different circumstances by the Marshall Plan.

It is high time that the nations bordering the Atlantic deal -- formally, systematically, and at the highest level -- with questions such as these: (a) What are the relative roles of Europe and the United States in East-West contacts? (b) Is a division of functions conceivable in which Western Europe plays the principal role in relation to Eastern Europe while the United States concentrates on relationships with the USSR? (c) What forms of political consultation does this require? (d) In what areas of the world is common action possible? Where are divergent courses indicated? How are differences to be handled?

Thus, we face the root questions of a multipolar world. How much unity should we want? How much diversity can we stand? These questions never have a final answer within a pluralistic society. Adjusting the balance between integration and autonomy will be the key challenge of the emerging Atlantic relations.

# AN INQUIRY INTO THE AMERICAN NATIONAL INTEREST

Wherever we turn, then, the central issue of American foreign policy is to analyze anew the current international environment and to develop some concepts which will enable us to contribute to the emergence of a stable order.

This requires that we recognize first the existence of profoundly structural problems to a considerable extent independent of the intentions of the principal protagonists and they cannot be solved merely by good will. The vacuum in Central Europe and the decline of the West European countries would have disturbed the equilibrium regardless of the domestic structure of the Soviet Union. A strong China (historically) has moved to establish suzerainty over many of its neighbors; in fact, one problem of dealing with China (is that) --Special problem of dealing with China (is that) --Communism apart (is that) -- it has no experience in conducting foreign policy between equals. China has (either been) dominant or subjected.

To understand the structural issue, it is necessary to undertake an inquiry, from which we have historically shied away into the essence of our national interest and into the premises of our foreign policy. It is part of the American folklore that, while other nations have interests, we have responsibilities; while other nations are concerned with equilibrium, we are concerned with the legal requirements of peace. We have a tendency to offer our altruism as a guarantee of our reliability: "We have no quarrel with the Communists," Secretary of State Rusk said on one occasion, "all of our quarrels are on behalf of other people."

Such an attitude makes it difficult to develop a
conception of our role in the world. It inhibits other nations
from gearing their policy to ours in a confident way -- a
"disinterested" policy is likely to be considered "unreliable."
A mature conception of our interest in the world should
have to <u>widespread</u>. <u>also</u>
obviously <u>take into account the general interest in stability</u>
and peaceful change. It would deal with two fundamental questions:
What is it in our interest to prevent? What should we seek to
accomplish?

The answer to the first question is *often* confused by an *often* repeated <u>must</u> it occurs
<u>the</u> proposition that we <u>will</u> resist aggression anywhere <u>since</u>
peace is indivisible. A corollary is the argument that we do
not oppose the fact of particular changes but the method by
which they were brought about. We find it hard to articulate
a truly vital interest which we would defend however "legal" the
challenge. This leads to an undifferentiated globalism and
confusion about our purposes. The <u>abstract must</u> <u>conception</u>
aggression in the abstract causes us to multiply our commit-
ments. <u>But</u> The denial that our interests are involved diminishes
our staying power when we <u>try to carry out our commitments.</u>
<u>for our difficulties</u>

Part of the reason is our reluctance to think in terms
of power and equilibrium. In 1949, for example, a State Department
memorandum justified NATO as follows: "[The treaty] obligates
the parties to defend the purposes and principles of the United
Nations, the freedom, common heritage and civilization of the
parties and their free institutions based upon the principles

of democracy, individual liberty and the role of law. It
obligates them to act in defense of peace and security. It
is directed against no one; it is directed solely against
aggression. It seeks not to influence any shifting balance
of power but to strengthen a balance of principle."

But principle, however lofty, must at some point be
related to practice; historically, stability has always coin-
cided with an equilibrium which made physical domination
difficult. Interest is not necessarily amoral; moral conse-
quences can spring from interested acts. Britain did not con-
tribute any the less to international order for having a clear-
cut concept according to which it was in her interest to prevent
the domination of the Continent by a single power (no matter how
it was threatened) and the control of the seas by anybody (even if the
immediate intentions were not hostile). A new administration
confronts the challenge of relating its commitments of America-
to its interests and its obligations to its purposes.

The task of defining positive goals is more difficult but
even more important. The first two decades after the end of the
Second World War II posed problems well suited to the American approach
to international relations. Wherever we turned, massive dis-
locations required attention. Our pragmatic, ad hoc tendency
was an advantage in a world clamoring for technical remedies.
Our legal bent contributed to the development of many instruments
of stability.

In the late Sixties, the situation is more complex. The
United States is no longer in a position to operate programs

globally; it has to encourage them. It can no longer impose its preferred solution; it must seek to evoke it. In the Forties and Fifties, we offered remedies; in the late Sixties and Seventies our role will have to be to contribute to a structure in which the initiative of others can be fostered. We are a superpower physically, but our designs can be meaningful only if they generate willing cooperation. We can continue to contribute to defense and positive programs, but we must seek to encourage and not stifle a sense of local responsibility. Our contribution should not be the sole or principal effort, but it should make the difference between success and failure.

This task requires a different kind of creativity and another form of patience than that which we have dissolved and been disengaged in the past. Enthusiasm, belief in progress, the invincible conviction that American remedies can work everywhere must give way to an understanding of historical trends, an ordering of our preferences, and above all an understanding of the difference which our preferences (in fact) can make.

The dilemma is that there can be no stability without equilibrium, but equally, equilibrium is not a purpose which we can respond to the travail of our world. A sense of mission is clearly a legacy of American history; to most Americans, America has always stood for something other than its own grandeur. But a clearer understanding of America's interests and of the requirements of equilibrium can give perspective to our idealism and lead to humane and moderate objectives, especially in relation to political and social change.

Thus our conception of world order must have deeper purposes than stability (on our behavior) or result but greater restraints than would be possible if it were approached only in a fit of enthusiasm.

Whether such a leap of the imagination is possible in the modern bureaucratic state remains to be seen. New administrations come to power convinced of the need for purpose and comprehensive concepts. Sooner, rather than later, they find themselves subjected to the pressures of the immediate and the short-term. Part of the reason is the pragmatic, issue-oriented bias of our decision-makers. But the fundamental reason may be the pervasiveness of modern bureaucracy. What started out as an aid to decision-making has developed a momentum of its own. Increasingly, the policy-maker is more conscious of the pressures and the morale of his staff than of the purpose this staff is supposed to serve. The policy-maker becomes a referee among quasi-autonomous bureaucratic bodies. Success consists of moving the administrative machinery to the point of decision, leaving relatively little energy for analyzing its merit. The modern bureaucratic state widens the range of technical choices while limiting the capacity to make them.

An even more serious problem is posed by the change of ethic of precisely the most idealistic element of American youth. The idealism of the Fifties through the Kennedy era expressed itself in self-confident, often zealous institution building. Today, however, many in the present-younger generation consider the management of power irrelevant, perhaps even immoral.

-49-

While the idea of service retains a potent influence, it does so largely
with respect to problems which are clearly *not* connected with
the strategic aspects of American foreign policy; the Peace Corps is a good
example. The new ethic of freedom is not "civic"; it is indifferent or even
hostile to systems and notions of order. Management is equated with
manipulation. Structural designs are perceived as systems of "domination"
not of order. The generation which has come of age after the Fifties has had
Vietnam as its introduction to world politics. It has no memory of
occasions when American-supported structural innovations were
successful nor of the motivations which prompted these enterprises.
Partly as a result of the generation gap, the American mood
(dangerously oscillates between being ashamed of power and expecting too
much of it. The former attitude deprecates the use of possession of force;
the latter is covered up by receptive by receptive or by receptive to the immediate possibilities of absolute action
danger and overly indifferent to the likely consequences. The degree of the-
rejection of power is a nihilistic perfectionism which disdains the gradual
and seeks to destroy what does not conform to its notion of Utopia. The
anxiety that it may result in
clamor by a series of spasmodic gestures and stylistic maneuvers and then recoil
well before their implications.
These essentially psychological problems cannot be overemphasized.
It is the essence of a satisfied, advanced society that it puts a premium on
within procedures and concepts of
operating the familiar. It draws its motivation from the present, and it

defines excellence by the ability to manipulate an established framework. But for the major part of humanity, the present becomes endurable only through a vision of the future. To most Americans -- including most American leaders -- the significant reality is what they see around them. But for most of the world -- including many of the leaders of the new nations -- the significant reality is what they wish to bring about. If we remain nothing but the managers of our physical patrimony, we will grow increasingly irrelevant. And since there can be no stability without us, the prospects of world order will decline.

We require a new burst of creativity, however, not so much for the sake of other countries as for our own people, especially the youth. The contemporary unrest is no doubt exploited by some whose purposes are all too clear. But that it is there to exploit is the result of a profound dissatisfaction with the merely managerial and consumer-oriented aspect of the modern state and with a world which seems to generate crises by inertia. The modern bureaucratic state, for all its panoply of strength, often finds itself shaken to its foundations by seemingly trivial causes. Its brittleness and the world-wide revolution of youth -- especially in advanced countries and among the relatively affluent -- suggests a spiritual void, an almost metaphysical boredom with a political environment which increasingly emphasizes bureaucratic challenges and offers no deeper purpose than material comfort.

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This-problem has no easy remedy. Nor is the solution to be
found primarily in the realm of foreign policy. Yet a deeper non-technical
help us again
challenge would surely contribute to a sense of direction. The best and
 purposes
most prideful expressions of American action in the world have been those in
 when/ which
in these situations
where we acted in concert with others. One influence has
Our
depended on achieving a reputation as a member of such a concert. To act
consistently abroad we must be able to generate broad coalitions - not of
military power but of shared purposes. Regional grouping supported by the
United States will have to take over major responsibility for their immediate
being
areas, with the United States concerned more with the over-all framework of
order than with the management of all enterprises.

In the best of circumstances, the next administration will be beset
by crises. In almost every area of the world, we have been living off
capital -1- warding off the immediate, rarely dealing with underlying
problems. These difficulties are likely to multiply when it becomes apparent
that one of the legacies of the war in Vietnam will be a mounting American
reluctance to risk overseas involvements.

. strong

A new administration has the right to ask for compassion and
understanding from the American people. But it must found its claim not on
pat technical answers to difficult issues; it must above all ask the right
questions. It must recognize that in the field of foreign policy, the key issue
is that we will never be able to contribute to building a stable and creative
world order unless we first form some conception of it.

# CENTRAL ISSUES OF AMERICAN FOREIGN POLICY

## CONTENTS

I. The Structural Problem 1 - 7

II. The Limits of Bipolarity: The Nature of Power in the Modern Period 8 - 14

III. Political Multipolarity: The Changed Nature of Alliances 15 - 29

IV. Bipolarity and Multipolarity: A Conceptual Problem 30 - 48

V. An Inquiry Into the American National Interest 44 - 50
49 - 56

- 3 -

As the same time, the number of participants has increased, and as technology multiplied the resources available for the conduct of foreign policy while the domestic structure increases the ability of the states to mobilize them. As long as the states' ability to mobilize resources was limited, the severity of their conflicts had definite bounds. The impact of 18th Century foreign policy was relatively benign, at least in part because the rulers by "divine right" were limited by custom in the exactions they could make upon their subjects. They could make upon them, therefore, demands from their subjects. Similar limitations obtained through much of the 19th Century.

Our period has seen the culmination of a process started by the French Revolution: the basing of governmental legitimacy on popular support. Even totalitarian regimes are aberrations of a democratic legitimacy; they depend on popular consensus even when they manufacture it through propaganda and pressure. But, as a situation to be encountered in any society, the people, by definition, cannot oppress itself and limitations are necessarily resultant of tradition lose much of their restraint. It is an ironic result of the democratization of politics that it has enabled states to marshall ever more resources for conflict.

This process has been aided by a scientific revolution which, from all practical purposes, has removed technical limits to the exercise of power in the field of foreign policy. It has magnified insecurities because it has made survival seem to depend on the accidents of a technological breakthrough.

Ideological conflict compounds these dislocations. Its expression on the international plane is an almost complete lack of agreement about the permissible aims and methods of foreign policy. A similar outlook about aims and methods cases the

characterized the international system in the 19th Century cannot be recreated in the modern age. The stable technology, the multiplicity of major powers, the limited domestic claims, and the frontiers which permitted adjustments are gone forever.

This problem is particularly serious for the United States. Whatever United States intentions or policies, there is the inescapable fact that the United States disposes of the greatest single aggregate of material power in the world. This power is increasing at an exponential rate. The greater part of the world has no foreseeable capacity to match it. Yet United States influence is not proportionate to its power; it has even declined as American power has grown. It is not necessarily desirable that America's international role be strictly proportionate to its power, for American hegemony is in no one's interest, least of all in America's. But a new international order is inconceivable without a significant American contribution. For the two decades following World War I, if our international activities were based on the assumption that technology plus managerial skills produced an ability to restructure the international system and to bring about domestic transformations in "emerging countries." This direct "operational" concept of international order has proved too simple. Political multipolarity makes it impossible to impose an American design. The deepest challenge will be to evoke the creativity of a pluralistic world, to base order on multipolarity (through overwhelming) strength, with even while the military relationships remain dominated by the two super-powers.

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from a given course by posing unacceptable risks. For purposes of deterrence, the opponent's calculations are decisive. A bluff taken seriously is more useful than a serious threat interpreted as a bluff. For political purposes, the meaningful measurement of military strength is the assessment of it by the other side. Psychological criteria vie in importance with strategic doctrine.

This state of affairs has profound consequences for traditional notions of balance of power. In the past, stability has always presupposed the existence of an equilibrium of power which prevented one state from imposing its will on the others.

The traditional criteria for the balance of power were territorial. A state could gain overwhelming superiority only by conquest; hence, as long as territorial expansion was foreclosed, or severely limited, the equilibrium was likely to be preserved. In the contemporary period, this is no longer true. Some conquests add little to effective military strength; major increases in power are possible entirely through developments within the territory of a sovereign state. China gained more in real military power through the acquisition of nuclear weapons than if it had conquered all of Southeast Asia. If the Soviet Union had occupied Western Europe, but had remained without nuclear weapons, it would be less powerful than with its existing nuclear arsenal in its present borders. In other words, the really fundamental changes in the balance of power have all occurred within the territorial limits of sovereign states. There

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[y]

is an urgent need to analyze just what is understood by power 1/M
as well as by balance of power 1/M in the nuclear age.

This would be difficult enough were technology stable.
It becomes enormously complicated when a scientific revolution
produces an upheaval in weapons technology at five-year intervals.
Slogans like "superiority," "parity," "assured destruction,"
unencumbered by compete without being clear definitions of their operational
military significance, or less a consensus on their political implications.
The gap between experts and decisionmakers is widening. The
decisionmaker rarely has as many hours to study a problem as the
expert has years. The result is that the decisionmaker runs the
risk of unprecedented dependence on his technical staff. He is
informed by "briefings," a procedure which stresses theatrical
qualities and leaves its subject with the uneasy feeling that he
has been "taken," even 1/M or perhaps especially 1/M when he does
not know exactly how. Decisions may reflect an attempt to ward
off conflicting pressures rather than a clear conception of long-
range purposes.

The abstract, intangible nature of modern power affects
the domestic structure in yet another way. Deterrence is tested
negatively by things which do not happen. But it is never possible
to demonstrate why something has not occurred. Is it because we
are pursuing the best possible policy or only a marginally effective
one? Bitter debate even among those who believe in the necessity
of defense policy is inevitable and bound to be inconclusive. Greater
difficulty is even greater with respect to those who question the
need for any defense policy. The longer peace is maintained 1/M or

For a decade and a half, immediately after the Second World War, During the post-war period, the United States identified security with alliances. A global network of relationships grew up based on the proposition that deterrence of aggression required the largest possible grouping of powers.

In the first decade and a half after World War II, this system of alliances was in difficulty outside the Atlantic area because it tried to apply principles essentially drawn from the multipolar world of the 18th and 19th Centuries when several major powers of roughly equal strength existed. Then, indeed, it was impossible for one country to achieve dominance if several others combined to prevent it. But this was not the case in the era of the superpowers of the Forties and Fifties. Outside of Europe, our allies added to our strength only marginally; they were in no position to reinforce each other's capabilities.

Alliances, to be effective, must meet four conditions: (1) a common objective usually defense against a common danger; (2) a degree of joint policy at least sufficient to define the *casus belli*; (3) some technical means of cooperation in case common action is decided upon; (4) a penalty for non-cooperation that is the possibility of being refused the power whose aid is sought must be believed to have some alternative to extending assistance; otherwise protection will be taken for granted and the mutuality of obligation will break down.

In the system of alliances developed by the United States after World War II, these conditions were never met outside the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO); in the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) and in the Central Asia Treaty Organization (CENTO); in the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) and in the Central Asia Treaty Organization (CENTO) (to which we belong in all but