# FOREIGN AFFAIRS

## AN AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW

APRIL 1956

<table><tr><td>Force and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age</td><td>Henry A. Kissinger</td></tr><tr><td>NATO: Still Vital for Peace</td><td>General J. Lawton Collins</td></tr><tr><td>The Struggle for German Reunification</td><td>Fritz Erler</td></tr><tr><td>Stable Instability in France</td><td>André Siegfried</td></tr><tr><td>The Rôle of American Books Abroad</td><td>Dan Lacy</td></tr><tr><td>Goa and the Indian Union: The Portuguese View</td><td>Oliveira Salazar</td></tr><tr><td>India's Foreign Policy</td><td>Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit</td></tr><tr><td>The Development of the National Security Council</td><td>Robert Cutler</td></tr><tr><td>False Assumptions About the Japanese Economy</td><td>Nobutane Kiuchi</td></tr><tr><td>Ambiguities in Guatemala</td><td>John Gillin and K. H. Silvert</td></tr><tr><td>Morocco Plans for Independence</td><td>Ahmed Balafrej</td></tr><tr><td>Sport as a Soviet Tool</td><td>John N. Washburn</td></tr><tr><td>Recent Books on International Relations</td><td>Henry L. Roberts</td></tr><tr><td>Source Material</td><td>Ruth Savord</td></tr></table>

HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG
*Editor*

*Editorial Advisory Board*

ALLEN W. DULLES WILLIAM L. LANGER PHILIP E. MOSELY
GEORGE F. KENNAN JOHN J. McCLOY HENRY M. WRISTON
CHARLES H. McILWAIN

58 East 68th Street • New York 21, N. Y.
Subscriptions, $6.00 a year, post free to any address.

Copyright, 1956 Council on Foreign Relations, Inc.

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY
IN THE NUCLEAR AGE

By Henry A. Kissinger

IN his whimsical essay “Perpetual Peace” written in 1795, the German philosopher Kant predicted that world peace could be attained in one of two ways: by a moral consensus which he identified with a republican form of government, or by a cycle of wars of ever-increasing violence which would reduce the major Powers to impotence.

There is no evidence that Kant's essay was taken seriously in his lifetime, or indeed for a century and a half afterwards. But much of current thought about the impact of the new weapons of today carries a premonition of Kant's second proposition. We respond to every Soviet advance in the nuclear field by what can best be described as a flight into technology, by devising ever more fearful weapons. The more powerful the weapons, however, the greater becomes the reluctance to use them. At a period of unparalleled military strength, the President has best summed up the dilemma posed by the new weapons technology in the phrase "there is no alternative to peace."

It is only natural, of course, that an age which has known two world wars and an uneasy armistice since should have as its central problem the attainment of peace. It is paradoxical, however, that so much hope should concentrate on man's most destructive capabilities. We are told that the growth of thermonuclear stockpiles has created a "nuclear stalemate" which makes war, if not too risky, at least unprofitable. The Geneva "summit" conference has been interpreted as a nonaggression treaty: a recognition by the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. that war is no longer a conceivable instrument of policy and that for this reason international disputes can be settled only by means of diplomacy. Mr. Stassen has maintained that the peaceful application of nuclear energy has made

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irrelevant many of the traditional reasons for wars of aggression because each major Power can now bring about a tremendous increase in its productive capacity without annexing either foreign territory or foreign labor. And many of the critics of Mr. Dulles' interview in *Life* were concerned less with the wisdom of the specific threats than with the fact that a threat of war was made at all.

These assertions have passed almost without challenge. They fit in well with a national psychology which considers peace as the "normal" pattern of relations among states and which has few doubts that reasonable men can settle all differences by honest compromise. So much depends, however, on the correctness of such propositions that they must be subjected to close scrutiny. For the impact of the new weapons—as every revolution—has not only a technical but a conceptual side. Until power is used, it is, as Colonel Lincoln from West Point has wisely said, what people think it is. But except for the two explosions of now obsolete bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, no nuclear weapons have ever been set off in wartime; there exists, therefore, no previous experience on which to draw. To a considerable extent the impact of the new weapons on strategy, on policy, indeed on survival, depends on our interpretation of their significance.

It therefore becomes of crucial importance that the United States not paralyze itself by developing a calculus of risks according to which all dangers would seem to be on our side. But this is precisely what has happened to us recently. The slogan "there is no alternative to peace" is the reverse side of the doctrine of "massive retaliation." And both deprive us of flexibility—"massive retaliation" because it poses risks for us out of proportion to the objectives to be achieved, and "there is no alternative to peace" because it relieves the Soviets of a large measure of the risk of aggressive moves. This is true despite Soviet reiteration of the horrors of a hydrogen war. For apart from the fact that these statements are usually addressed to foreigners and may, therefore, be designed to increase the inhibitions of others, it makes all the difference which side has to initiate thermonuclear war. And as long as the Soviets retain a sufficiently flexible weapons system, they can confront us with contingencies from which we can extricate ourselves only by initiating such a war. To be sure, the President has said explicitly (December 17, 1954), "Let no man think that we want peace at any price." But the price of peace cannot be determined in the abstract. The growth

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of the Soviet nuclear stockpile is certain to increase our reluctance to run the risks of an all-out war; the line between what is considered “vital” and what is “peripheral” will shift if we must weigh all objectives against the destruction of New York or Washington or Chicago.†

It may be argued that the emphasis on the rôle of force mistakes the main thrust of the current Soviet threat, which presents more ambiguous and subtle challenges than overt aggression. To be sure, the present period of revolutionary change will not be managed by a military doctrine alone; imaginative diplomacy and a consistent program are necessary if our aims are to be identified with the aspirations of humanity. But we always seem in danger of focussing so much attention on the current Soviet threat that we are taken unawares by the Soviet Union's frequent changes of tactics. During the period of Soviet militancy we were so preoccupied with building defensive barriers that we neglected the supporting psychological and political framework. And now, with the Soviet emphasis on more indirect methods of penetra-tion, we stand in danger of forgetting that economic development must be accompanied by a modicum of security against foreign invasion. Moreover, it is one of the most difficult tasks of states-manship to relate what a Power says it will do to what it is able to do. If the international order possessed the sanctions that pre-vail in domestic arrangements—courts and enforcement machin-ery, for example—relations could be conducted largely on the basis of what states assert their intentions to be. But in an inter-national order composed of sovereign states, the principal sanc-tion is the possession of superior force; any adverse change in power relationships involves the possibility that the gain in strength will be used with hostile intent. This is the real meaning of “atomic blackmail.” As the Soviet nuclear stockpile grows, overt threats have become unnecessary; every calculation of risks will have to include the Soviet stockpile of atomic weapons and ballistic missiles.

If the phrase “there is no alternative to peace” were to become accepted doctrine, it could lead only to a paralysis of policy. It would be tantamount to renouncing power and staking every-thing on the professions of another sovereign state. This would have been difficult at any period; it becomes an invitation to dis-

† For a more detailed discussion of the doctrine of “massive retaliation” see the author's “Military Policy and the Defense of the Grey Areas,” *Foreign Affairs*, April 1955.

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aster when we are confronted with a revolutionary Power which prides itself on its superior understanding of "objective" forces, and to which policies unrelated to a plausible possibility of employing force will seem either hypocrisy or stupidity. Force and diplomacy are not discrete realms; on the contrary, the ultimate pressure during negotiations has always been the possibility that recourse might be had to force. To the extent that the slogan "there is no alternative to peace" is taken seriously by the Soviets as a statement of American intentions, it will remove a powerful brake on Soviet probing actions and any incentive for the Soviet Union to make concessions. At best the doctrine "there is no alternative to peace" can achieve only an indefinite continuation of the status quo. In this context, our frequent pronouncements that we refuse to accept the satellite orbit will seem hollow or will even backfire: they will give impetus to Soviet peace offenses without generating a meaningful pressure on the Soviet sphere.

The discussion about war being "inconceivable" has, however, performed this useful purpose: it has drawn attention to the paradox that we are preparing for a war which we did not fight even when we possessed an atomic monopoly and that we have not yet found a rationale for such a war when weapons have become incomparably more destructive. On the contrary, far from giving us freedom of action, the very power of modern weapons seems to inhibit it. In short, our weapons technology and the objectives for employing them have become incommensurable. No more urgent task confronts the United States, than to bring them into harmony.

II

But perhaps this incommensurability is inherent in the new weapons and not in the military doctrine? Perhaps we are moving into a new era of international relations in which the Powers will have to adjust themselves to the fact that force can no longer be used? What about "nuclear stalemate?"

Of course, "stalemates" have occurred before in the history of war, particularly in the relation of offense to defense. The distinguishing feature of the current use of the term is that it refers not to a balance on the battlefield, but to a calculus of risks: with each side possessing the capability to inflict catastrophic blows on the other, war is said to be no longer a rational course of action. It is important, however, to be precise about the deterrent

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effect of the "nuclear stalemate:" it deters not only aggression, but resistance to it; and it deters not war as such, but all-out war. The side which can present its challenges in less than all-out form may, therefore, be able to use the "nuclear stalemate" to its advantage.

Moreover, even if a nuclear stalemate does exist, it does not make for stability in the present volatile state of technology—much less for a sense of harmony. The spectre of a technological breakthrough by the other side would always loom large; it would lend an apocalyptic quality to all current international relations.

For the purpose of national policy, however, the significance of the term "stalemate" resides not in the technical but in the psychological aspect. For the "stalemate" is not anything new. Actually it has existed ever since the explosions over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. To be sure, it was not a physical stalemate; for nearly a decade the United States was relatively immune from Soviet retaliation. But it was a stalemate nonetheless in the sense that we never succeeded in translating our military superiority into a political advantage. This was due to many factors: a theory of war based on the necessity of total victory, the memory of the wartime alliance with the Soviets, humanitarian impulses, lack of clarity about the process in which we found ourselves involved. But whatever the reason, our atomic monopoly had at best a deterrent effect. While it may have prevented a further expansion of the Soviet sphere, it did not enable us to achieve a strategic transformation in our favor. Indeed, even its importance as a deterrent is questionable. Assuming that there had never been an atomic bomb, would we really have acquiesced in the Soviet Union's taking over Europe? Would the U.S.S.R. have risked a general war so soon after having its territory devastated by the Germans and having lost, by the most conservative estimates, 10,000,000 dead? Not even a dictatorship can do everything simultaneously.

But apart from the questionable assumption that all-out war was prevented by our atomic monopoly, the decade witnessed the consolidation of a satellite orbit in Eastern Europe, the triumph of Communism in China and, most fundamental of all, the growth of the Soviet atomic stockpile. Those who expect great things from technological breakthroughs would do well to study American actions after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. No foreseeable technological breakthrough is likely to be more fundamental than

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the discovery of the A-bomb. Yet possession of it did not enable us to prevent another Power which never hid its hostile intent from expanding its orbit and developing a capacity to inflict a mortal blow on the United States.

How did this come about? Primarily because we added the A-bomb to our military arsenal without integrating its implications into our thinking; because we saw it merely as another tool in a theory of warfare which had showed a poverty—indeed almost an absence—of political conception during the two world wars, and which became completely inapplicable after the explosions over Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

For over a century before the outbreak of World War I, wars were an extension of policy. Because they were fought for specific political objectives there existed a rough commensurability between the force employed and the goal sought. But with the outbreak of World War I, war suddenly seemed to become an end in itself. After the first few months, none of the protagonists would have been able to name an objective other than the total defeat of the enemy or, at least, they would have named objectives, such as the German demand for the annexation of Belgium, which amounted to unconditional surrender. There had occurred a hiatus between military and political planning which has never subsequently been bridged. The military staffs had developed plans for total victory, because it is in such plans that all factors are under the control of the military. But political leadership proved incapable of giving this conception a concrete expression in terms of peace aims. The result was four years of war of ever-increasing violence which carried its hatreds into a peace treaty that considered more the redressing of sacrifices than the stability of the international order.

The notion that war and peace, military and political goals, were separate had become so commonplace by the end of World War II that the most powerful nation in the world found itself paralyzed by the enormity of its own weapons technology. In every concrete instance, even in the matter of the regulation of the atom which affected our very survival, we found ourselves stalemated by our own preconceptions. The consequences of military actions which we might take always seemed to outbalance the gains to be achieved. Thus our policy became entirely defensive. We possessed a doctrine to repel overt aggression, but we could not translate it into a positive goal. And even in the one

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instance where we resisted aggression we did not use the weapon around which our whole military planning had been built. The hiatus between military and national policy was complete. Our power was not commensurate with the objectives of our national policy and our military doctrine could not find any intermediary application for the new weapons. The growth of the Soviet atomic stockpile has merely brought the physical equation into line with the psychological one; it has increased the reluctance to engage in a general war even more. But it has not changed the fundamental question of how the political and military doctrines can be harmonized, how our power can give impetus to our policy rather than paralyzing it.

One way of avoiding this problem is to deny that it exists. It is possible to argue that the term ""stalemate"" is illusory, that in an all-out war one side is almost certain to be able to "win" in the sense of being able to impose its will on its antagonist. This is technically correct. But it does not affect the calculus by which the decision to enter the war is taken: in its crudest form, whether it is "worth" fighting the war in the first place. Obviously no Power will start a war it thinks it is going to lose. But it will also be reluctant to start a war if the price of victory may be its national substance. The capacity to inflict greater losses on the enemy than one suffers is the condition of policy; it cannot be its objective.

The transformation imposed by the "nuclear stalemate" is not that victory in an all-out war has become technically impossible but that it can no longer be imposed at an acceptable cost. Nor is this conclusion avoided by an appeal to military rationality. For example, in Paul Nitze's hypothetical general war confined to airfields and S.A.C. installations, the bombing of cities would be unwise in the early stages of the war and unnecessary in the later ones after air superiority has been achieved.² But this assumes that victory is the only rational objective in war. It overlooks the fact that war is not only the instrument for imposing one's will on the defeated but is also a tool for frustrating this intent by making the effort too costly. An air battle would be a rational strategy for the side which has a strategic advantage either in terms of base structure or in weapons potential, for it would put the enemy at its mercy at a minimum cost. But for the side which stands to lose the air battle and which seeks to

² Paul Nitze, "Atoms, Strategy and Policy," *Foreign Affairs*, January 1956.

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exact a maximum price for its own defeat, the most rational
strategy may well be to inflict maximum destruction. Such a
Power may at least attempt to equalize the *threat* of nuclear
destruction by inflicting its *actuality* on the enemy and thereby
deprive him of the fruits of his victory, or at least make it too
risky for him to seek total victory. Unconditional surrender—or
depriving the enemy of his nuclear capability, which amounts
to the same thing—cannot be achieved by subterfuge.

III

But does the stalemate, defined as the impossibility of achiev-
ing total victory at an acceptable cost, apply to lesser conflicts?
In other words, is limited war a conceivable instrument of policy
in the nuclear period? Here we must analyze precisely what is
meant by limited war.

One can think of many models: a war confined to a geographic
area, a war that does not utilize the whole weapons system, a war
which utilizes the whole weapons system but limits its employ-
ment to specific targets. But none of these military definitions
seems adequate, since a war may be confined geographically or in
terms of targets and yet be total in the sense of exhausting the
national substance, as happened to France in World War I. The
fact that the whole weapons system is not employed, or that the
destructive capability of the existing weapons system is small,
is not of itself a factor of limitation. In the Thirty Years' War
the number of men in each army was small by present-day
standards, the power of the weapons was negligible compared to
modern armaments, and yet it is estimated that at least 30 per-
cent of the population of Germany died during the course of it.

A distinction based on the difference between nuclear weapons
and "conventional armaments" is no more fruitful. Apart from
the fact that the distinction becomes increasingly nebulous as
we develop nuclear weapons of very low yield, it will be impos-
sible to reverse present trends. The very existence of nuclear
armaments on both sides seems to insure that any future war
will be nuclear. At a minimum, forces will have to deploy as if
nuclear weapons might be used, because the side which concen-
trates its forces might thereby give its opponent the precise in-
centive he needs to use nuclear weapons. But if forces are
dispersed, they will not be able to hold a line or achieve a break-
through with conventional weapons, because the destructive

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power of conventional weapons is so much smaller. Finally, nuclear weapons, particularly of the low-yield type, seem to offer the best opportunity to compensate for our inferiority in manpower and to use our superiority in technology to best advantage.

It is not for nothing that Soviet propaganda has played on two related themes: 1, there is no such thing as a "limited" nuclear war, and 2, "ban the bomb." For both emphasize the corollary "there is no alternative to peace" and both deprive our policy of flexibility and sap our resistance to the preferred forms of Soviet strategy: peripheral wars, subversion and atomic blackmail.

Our discussion up to this point thus leads to these conclusions: Any war is likely to be a nuclear war. Nuclear war should be fought as something less than an all-out war. There exists no way to define a limited war in purely military terms. On the contrary, wars can be limited only by political decisions, by defining objectives which do not threaten the survival of the enemy. Thus an all-out war is a war to render the enemy defenseless. A limited war is one for a specific objective which by its very existence will establish a certain commensurability between the force employed and the goal to be attained.

Limited war, therefore, presents the military with particular difficulties. An all-out war is relatively simple to plan for, because its limits are set by military considerations and even by military capacity. The characteristic of limited wars, on the other hand, is that there are ground rules which define the relationship of military to political objectives. Planning here becomes much more conjectural, much more subtle and much more indeterminate, as we found when considering intervention in Indo-China. The political leadership must therefore assume the responsibility for defining the framework within which the military are to develop plans and capabilities. The prerequisite for a policy of limited war is the re-introduction of the political element into our concept of warfare and the surrender of the notion that policy ends when war begins or that war has goals different from those of national policy.

#### IV

This raises the question to what extent the nuclear age permits a policy of intermediary objectives. Do any of the factors apply today which formerly led to a diplomacy of limited objectives and a military policy of limited wars?

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In the great periods of European cabinet diplomacy between the Treaty of Westphalia and the French Revolution and between the Congress of Vienna and the outbreak of the First World War, wars were limited because there existed a political framework which induced the major Powers to conduct a diplomacy of limited objectives. This political framework was due to several factors. There was, to begin with, a conscious decision that the upheavals of the Thirty Years' War and of the Napoleonic Wars should not occur again. More important was the fact that the international order did not contain a revolutionary Power. No state was so dissatisfied with the peace settlement that it sought to gain its ends by overthrowing it and no Power considered that its domestic notion of justice was incompatible with that of other states. Again, the domestic structure of most governments set a limit to the proportion of the national resources which could be devoted to war. Not even the most absolute ruler by the grace of God could think of conscripting his subjects or confiscating their property. Finally, in an era of stable weapons technology, both the strength of the Powers and their assessments of those strengths were relatively fixed and as a result the risks of surprise attack and of unforeseen technological developments were relatively small.

If we inquire which of these factors—fear of war, legitimacy, limits on the domestic exercise of power and a stable power relationship—is present today, little cause for optimism remains. Under conditions of nuclear plenty, no major Power will be forced to adopt a policy of limited objectives because of insufficient resources. Moreover, for over a generation the U.S.S.R. has proclaimed the incompatibility of its domestic notion of justice with that of other states and has built an internal control system on the theory of a permanently hostile outside world. Peaceful coexistence, too, is justified by the Soviets on the basis that it will enable them to subvert the existing structure by means other than all-out war.

Nor is the nature of power relationships more reassuring. Even with a less volatile technology, a two-Power world would have an element of inherent instability because an increase in strength of one side cannot be made up by superior political dexterity but is tantamount to an absolute weakening of the other side. Actually, the weapons technology is far from stable. Almost up to the outbreak of World War II a weapons system would be good

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for a generation at least, while today it may be outdated when it has barely passed the blueprint stage. In this technological race, moreover, the side which has adopted a policy of letting its opponent strike the first blow is at a distinct disadvantage; it cannot afford to fall behind even for an instant. It must phase its planning and procurement over an indefinite period while its opponent, if he is determined on a showdown, can plan for a target date.

But if neither an agreed legitimacy nor a stable power relationship exists today, they may be outweighed by the third factor in the equation: the fear of thermonuclear war. Never before have the consequences of all-out war been so unambiguous, never have the gains seemed so incommensurable with the sacrifices. What statesman who declared war in 1914 would not have recoiled had he known the shape of the world in 1918? Today every weapons test augurs much worse horrors. There exists, therefore, a limiting condition to every diplomatic move. The distinction between tactical and strategic nuclear weapons may be nebulous in military terms, but every state has a powerful incentive to make some distinction, however tenuous its logic. The fear that an all-out thermonuclear war might lead to the disintegration of the social structure should be utilized to guarantee the "limits" of war and diplomacy.

The key problem of our present-day strategy is therefore to devise alternative capabilities to confront our opponent with contingencies from which he can extricate himself only by thermonuclear war, but to deter him from this step by our retaliatory capacity. All Soviet moves in the postwar period have had this character; they have faced us with problems which by themselves did not seem "worth" an all-out war³ but which we were unable to deal with by an alternative strategy. We refused to defeat the Chinese in Korea because we were unwilling to risk an all-out conflict; we saw no solution to the Indo-Chinese crisis without dangers we were reluctant to confront. A doctrine for the graduated employment of force might reverse or at least arrest this trend. Graduated deterrence is thus not an alternative to massive retaliation but its complement, for it is the capability for "massive retaliation" which provides the sanction against expanding war.

³ See, for example, Thomas K. Finletter's letter to the *New York Herald Tribune*, December 22, 1955.

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V

A doctrine for the graduated employment of force would enable us to escape the vicious circle in which we find ourselves paralyzed by the implications of our own weapons technology. The idea that the most effective strategy is the thermonuclear bombardment of cities is a legacy of World War II, when we could attack production centers without fear of retaliation. Because the destructive power of individual weapons was then relatively small, a decisive victory on the battlefield could be achieved only by using quantities too large to stockpile; munitions and weapons had to be supplied out of current production. Under these circumstances it made sense to attempt to win through attrition, by bombing production facilities. The destructiveness of modern weapons, however, makes attrition the most wasteful strategy. Under conditions of nuclear plenty, existing stockpiles will probably suffice to achieve a decision; nuclear weapons may therefore be more decisively employed on the battlefield or against military installations such as airfields than against production centers.⁴

Moreover, while the growth of the Soviet strategic air force and atomic stockpile should cause us to revise our concepts regarding air warfare, the introduction of nuclear weapons on the battlefield will shake the very basis of Soviet tactical doctrine. No longer will the Soviets be able to rely on massed manpower and artillery as in World War II. On a nuclear battlefield, dispersion is the key to survival and mobility the prerequisite of success. A great deal depends on leadership of a high order, personal initiative and mechanical aptitude, all qualities in which our military organization probably excels that of the U.S.S.R. To be sure, there are many types of aggression to which nuclear weapons offer no solution, either for political or military reasons—civil war and guerrilla actions, for example—and we must retain a conventional capability to deal with them. The fact remains that the most fruitful area for current strategic thought is the conduct and efficacy of limited nuclear war, the “war gaming” of situations in which nuclear weapons are used by both sides, and a consideration of what would constitute victory in such a war.

The graduated employment of force, however, presupposes a capability which is really “graduated.” If we build our whole

⁴ For application of these ideas to the conduct of a military campaign, see Richard C. Leghorn, "No Need to Bomb Cities to Win Wars," *U. S. News & World Report*, January 28, 1955.

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strategy around "absolute" weapons of megaton size, professions of limited objectives will be meaningless and any use of nuclear weapons is likely to touch off an all-out war. The possibility of keeping a limited nuclear war limited depends on our ability to extend the range of low-yield weapons of a kiloton and below, and to devise tactics for their utilization on the battlefield.

At the same time, a doctrine for the graduated employment of force and the renunciation of unconditional surrender should not be confused with the acceptance of a stalemate. The flexibility of our diplomacy will increase as our military alternatives multiply. And militarily, the notion that there is no alternative between total victory and the *status quo ante* is much too mechanical. If the military position of an enemy became untenable and if he were offered choices other than unconditional surrender, he might accept local withdrawals without resorting to all-out war. If S.A.C. retains its retaliatory capacity, the other side may decide that amputation is preferable to suicide. In these terms the calculus of risks by which a limited nuclear war is expanded into an all-out thermonuclear exchange is almost the same as that by which a limited conventional war is expanded into an all-out war. Whether we can obtain local adjustments will thus depend on: 1, the ability to generate pressures other than the threat of thermonuclear war; 2, the ability to create a climate of opinion in which national survival is not thought to be at stake in every issue; 3, the ability to keep control of public opinion should a disagreement arise over whether national survival is at stake.

But is it possible to bring about a climate in which national survival is thought not to be at stake? Pressures severe enough to cause withdrawal may, after all, be severe enough to be thought to threaten survival, especially in a régime like that in Soviet Russia. On the other hand, the problem is not how to reassure the Soviets, which is probably a well-nigh impossible effort, but how to give effect to the one interest we presumably have in common: that we both wish to avoid all-out thermonuclear war. Given this attitude, total war is likely in only two contingencies: if the Soviets see an opportunity to achieve hegemony in Eurasia by peripheral actions which we are not able to deal with by a graduated employment of force; or if the U.S.S.R. should misunderstand our intentions and treat our every military move as if it were the prelude to an all-out war.

It therefore becomes the task of our diplomacy to convey to

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the Soviet bloc that we are capable of courses other than all-out
war or inaction, and that we intend to use this capability.
Fortunately, the imbalance in our national strategy has been
caused less by our diplomacy than by our military policy. Indeed,
our difficulty has been precisely the fact that our moderate pro-
nouncements have seemed incongruous in the face of an all-or-
nothing military policy and that our diplomacy has been de-
prived of flexibility because "massive retaliation" has had as its
logical corollary the slogan "there is no alternative to peace." A
modification of our military doctrine would, therefore, go a long
way towards creating a framework of limited objectives; the next
step would be to convey this change to the outside world. Others
have suggested details of such a diplomatic program.⁵ Possible
measures might include proposals for conventions regarding open
cities, greater publicity for tests of low-yield nuclear weapons, and
a high-level pronouncement which defines as precisely as possible
what is meant by the "graduated" employment of force.

Such a program should be distinguished sharply from the
Soviet "ban the bomb" propaganda, however. We cannot afford
even the implication that nuclear weapons are in a special cate-
gory, apart from modern weapons in general, for this undermines
the psychological basis of the most effective United States strat-
egy. If nuclear weapons were outlawed, Soviet superiority in man-
power would again become a factor and its stockpile of conven-
tional weapons would place Eurasia at the mercy of the Soviets,
at least in an intermediary period while we adjusted our procure-
ment, training and organization. "Ban the bomb" proposals, more-
over, distract from the real security problem which is Soviet
aggression, a fact that American diplomacy should not permit
the world to forget. The diplomatic and psychological frame-
work for the graduated employment of force is created not by
"ban the bomb" proposals but by defining the conditions of its
use. To be sure, a diplomatic program for the graduated employ-
ment of force will not inevitably prevent an all-out war; if the
Soviets feel strong enough to knock us out by a surprise attack,
they will presumably do so. But it may prevent an all-out war
caused by our failure to develop alternatives or by Soviet mis-
calculation or misunderstanding of our intentions.

Moreover, while the Marxist philosophy has heretofore im-

⁵ For example, Rear Admiral Sir Anthony W. Buzzard, *Manchester Guardian*, November 3, 1955.

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parted great flexibility to Soviet policy we may be able to use
it as well to give effect to a policy of graduated deterrence. The
belief in inevitable triumph is after all as consistent with tactical
withdrawal as with an effort to fill every power vacuum. All of
Soviet history testifies to the fact that this is not a régime for
last stands if other alternatives present themselves. One need
only study the abject efforts of the Politburo in the months be-
fore the German invasion to come to a settlement with Hitler to
realize that if confronted with superior power the Soviets do not
hesitate to apply Lenin's dictum, "One step backward, two steps
forward." And this tendency is supported by all of Russian his-
tory. Russia has always been less able to apply force subtly than
massively; she has always been more vulnerable to wars outside
her territories than within, and to limited rather than all-out war.

The strategic problem for the United States, then, can be
summed up in these propositions:

1. Thermonuclear war must be avoided, except as a last resort.

2. No power possessing thermonuclear weapons is likely to accept unconditional surrender without employing them and no nation is likely to risk thermonuclear destruction except to the extent that it believes its survival to be at stake.

3. It is the task of our diplomacy, therefore, to make clear that we do not aim for unconditional surrender, to create a framework in which the question of national survival is not involved in every issue. But equally we should leave no doubt about our determination to achieve intermediary objectives and to resist by force any Soviet military move.

4. Since diplomacy which is not related to a plausible employment of force is sterile, it must be the task of our military policy to develop a doctrine and a capability for the graduated employment of force.

VI

The discussion up to this point has been primarily concerned
with the impact of our diplomacy and of our military policy on
the Soviet bloc. Its impact on our allies and the uncommitted
nations is no less important. The truism that the contemporary
crisis cannot be solved solely by the exercise of power should not
be confused with the notion that power plays no rôle in con-
temporary affairs. Peace has never been maintained except by
making aggression too costly; the benefits of diversity which the

[LC]

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free world still enjoys are due to the shield afforded by American military strength. For this reason alone, the quest for an adequate American military doctrine concerns not only us but also the rest of the world.

There can be little doubt that our system of alliances is under-
going a crisis. Many reasons for this exist: the Soviet peace
offensive, the domestic problems of France, the economic stagna-
tion of Britain, Canada's increasing sense of vulnerability. But
surely one fundamental cause is the absence of a unifying military
doctrine. The argument most frequently advanced for our coali-
tion policy is that we require overseas bases. But whatever sense
this policy makes to us, it is not persuasive to countries who
want above all to avoid another round of bombings and occupa-
tion. Our allies realize, moreover, that in an all-out thermonuclear
war the ground strength of our NATO partners will be almost
irrelevant; in terms of the doctrine of massive retaliation our
allies see little military significance in their own contribution. The
growth of the Soviet atomic stockpile compounds these difficul-
ties. Heretofore, a nation threatened with attack would generally
resist because the potential destruction was insignificant com-
pared to the consequences of surrender. But now, when most of
our NATO partners consider the outbreak of a war as leading in-
evitably to national catastrophe, our system of alliances is in dire
jeopardy. It can be restored, if at all, only by two measures: one,
by a military doctrine and capability which makes clear that not
every war is necessarily an all-out thermonuclear war, even in
Europe; two, by measures such as the air defense of NATO,
which reduce the sense of impotence felt by our allies in the face
of the threat of thermonuclear war.

The problem with respect to the uncommitted nations, particu-
larly those newly independent, is more complicated. Where our
NATO partners suffer from a perhaps excessive awareness of the
reality of power, the former colonial states seem hardly conscious
of its existence and nature. This is understandable. The leaders
of the newly independent states achieved their positions by dis-
tinguishing themselves in the struggle with the former colonial
Powers. But the independence movements almost without ex-
ception provided a poor preparation for an understanding of
modern power relationships. Based on the dogmas of late nine-
teenth century liberalism, especially its pacifism, the indepen-
dence movements relied more on ideological agreement than on

[LC]

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

365

an evaluation of power factors. Indeed, the claim to superior spirituality remains the battle cry of Asian nationalism. Moreover, the bad conscience of the colonial Powers and their preoccupation with European problems gave the struggle for independence more the character of a domestic debate than of a power dispute. To be sure, many of the leaders of the newly independent Powers spent years in jail and suffered heroically for their cause. It is not to deny the measure of their dedication to assert that the results achieved were out of proportion to their suffering. Empires which had held vast dominions for hundreds of years disappeared without a battle being fought.

And if it is difficult for the leaders to retain a sense of proportion, it is next to impossible for the mass of the people. On the whole they were involved in the struggle for independence only with their sympathies; to them the disappearance of the colonial Powers must seem nothing short of miraculous. Moreover, most of the people of the newly independent states live in pre-industrial societies. It would be difficult enough for them to grasp the full impact of industrialism; it is too much to expect them to understand the meaning of nuclear technology. It is therefore understandable that in most former colonial areas there is an overestimation of what can be achieved by the power of words alone. Nor is this tendency diminished by the rewards that fall to the uncommitted in the contest for their allegiance waged by the two big power centers. There must be an almost overwhelming temptation to defer the solution of difficult internal problems by entering the international arena, to solidify a complicated domestic position by triumphs in the field of foreign policy.

But however understandable, it is a dangerous trend. If this were a tranquil period, nothing would be involved but minor irritations. But in the present crisis, the dogmatism of these newly independent states makes them susceptible to Soviet "peace offensives," and their lack of appreciation of power relationships may cause them to overestimate the protection afforded by moral precepts.

The power chiefly visible to the newly independent states is that of Soviet or Chinese armies on their borders. The United States must counter with a twentieth century equivalent of "showing the flag," with measures which will permit us to make our power felt quickly and decisively, not only to deter Soviet aggression but to impress the uncommitted with our capacity

[LC]

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for action. This does not mean "rattling the atom bomb." What it does require is greater mobility and a weapons system that can deal with the tensions most likely to arise in the uncommitted areas—tensions which do not lend themselves to the massive employment of thermonuclear weapons: civil war, peripheral attacks or a war among the uncommitted.

To be sure, this is an ungrateful and indeed an unpopular course. But we will not be able to avoid unpopularity. In the short run, all we can hope for is respect. Moreover, condescending as it may seem, we have an important educational task to perform in the newly independent countries on the subject of power in the nuclear age. Within a generation, and probably in less time than that, most of these states will possess nuclear power plants and therefore the wherewithal to manufacture nuclear weapons. And even if this should not prove the case, the Soviets may find it advantageous to increase international tensions by making available nuclear weapons, on the model of their arms deal with Egypt. But nuclear weapons in the hands of weak, irresponsible or merely ignorant governments present grave dangers. Unless the United States has successfully established ground rules for their graduated employment, many areas of the world will begin to play the traditional rôle of the Balkans in European politics: the fuse which will set off a holocaust.

VII

One of the difficulties in the nuclear period has been our tendency to treat its problems primarily as technical. But power is meaningless in the absence of a doctrine for employing it. (The debate provoked by Mr. Dulles' interview in *Life* has again emphasized this dilemma; the enormity of modern weapons makes the thought of war repugnant, but a refusal to run any risk would amount to giving the Soviets a blank check. Our dilemma has been defined as the alternative of Armageddon or defeat without war. We can overcome the paralysis induced by such a prospect only by creating other alternatives both in our diplomacy and in our military policy. Such measures require strong nerves. We can make the graduated employment of force stick only if we leave no doubt about our readiness to face a final showdown; its effectiveness will depend on our willingness to face up to the risks of Armageddon.

["FOREIGN AFFAIRS", "AN AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW", "APRIL 1956", "Force and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age . Henry A. Kissinger\nNATO: Still Vital for Peace . . . . . . General J. Lawton Collins\nThe Struggle for German Reunification . . . . . . . Frits Erler\nStable Instability in France . . . . . . . . . . . . André Siegfried\nThe Rôle of American Books Abroad . . . . . . . . Dan Lacy\nGoa and the Indian Union: The Portuguese View", "Oliveira Salazar", "India's Foreign Policy . . . . . . . . . . . . Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit\nThe Development of the National Security Council", "Robert Cutler", "False Assumptions About the Japanese Economy", "Nobutane Kiuchi", "Ambiguities in Guatemala . . . . John Gillin and K. H. Silvert", "Morocco Plans for Independence . . . . . . . . . Ahmed Balafrej", "Sport as a Soviet Tool . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John N. Washburn", "Recent Books on International Relations . . . Henry L. Roberts", "Source Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By Henry A. Kissinger

IN his whimsical essay "Perpetual Peace" written in 1795, the German philosopher Kant predicted that world peace could be attained in one of two ways: by a moral consensus which he identified with a republican form of government, or by a cycle of wars of ever-increasing violence which would reduce the major Powers to impotence.

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351

of the Soviet nuclear stockpile is certain to increase our reluctance to run the risks of an all-out war; the line between what is considered “vital” and what is “peripheral” will shift if we must weigh all objectives against the destruction of New York or Washington or Chicago.¹

It may be argued that the emphasis on the rôle of force mis-
takes the main thrust of the current Soviet threat, which presents
more ambiguous and subtle challenges than overt aggression. To
be sure, the present period of revolutionary change will not be
managed by a military doctrine alone; imaginative diplomacy
and a consistent program are necessary if our aims are to be
identified with the aspirations of humanity. But we always seem
in danger of focussing so much attention on the current Soviet
threat that we are taken unawares by the Soviet Union's frequent
changes of tactics. During the period of Soviet militancy we were
so preoccupied with building defensive barriers that we neglected
the supporting psychological and political framework. And now,
with the Soviet emphasis on more indirect methods of penetra-
tion, we stand in danger of forgetting that economic development
must be accompanied by a modicum of security against foreign
invasion. Moreover, it is one of the most difficult tasks of states-
manship to relate what a Power says it will do to what it is able
to do. If the international order possessed the sanctions that pre-
vail in domestic arrangements—courts and enforcement machin-
ery, for example—relations could be conducted largely on the
basis of what states assert their intentions to be. But in an inter-
national order composed of sovereign states, the principal sanc-
tion is the possession of superior force; any adverse change in
power relationships involves the possibility that the gain in
strength will be used with hostile intent. This is the real meaning
of “atomic blackmail.” As the Soviet nuclear stockpile grows,
overt threats have become unnecessary; every calculation of risks
will have to include the Soviet stockpile of atomic weapons and
ballistic missiles.

If the phrase “there is no alternative to peace” were to become
accepted doctrine, it could lead only to a paralysis of policy. It
would be tantamount to renouncing power and staking every-
thing on the professions of another sovereign state. This would
have been difficult at any period; it becomes an invitation to dis-

¹ For a more detailed discussion of the doctrine of "massive retaliation" see the author's "Military Policy and the Defense of the Grey Areas," *Foreign Affairs*, April 1955.

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aster when we are confronted with a revolutionary Power which prides itself on its superior understanding of "objective" forces, and to which policies unrelated to a plausible possibility of employing force will seem either hypocrisy or stupidity. Force and diplomacy are not discrete realms; on the contrary, the ultimate pressure during negotiations has always been the possibility that recourse might be had to force. To the extent that the slogan "there is no alternative to peace" is taken seriously by the Soviets as a statement of American intentions, it will remove a powerful brake on Soviet probing actions and any incentive for the Soviet Union to make concessions. At best the doctrine "there is no alternative to peace" can achieve only an indefinite continuation of the status quo. In this context, our frequent pronouncements that we refuse to accept the satellite orbit will seem hollow or will even backfire: they will give impetus to Soviet peace offensives without generating a meaningful pressure on the Soviet sphere.

The discussion about war being "inconceivable" has, however, performed this useful purpose: it has drawn attention to the paradox that we are preparing for a war which we did not fight even when we possessed an atomic monopoly and that we have not yet found a rationale for such a war when weapons have become incomparably more destructive. On the contrary, far from giving us freedom of action, the very power of modern weapons seems to inhibit it. In short, our weapons technology and the objectives for employing them have become incommensurable. No more urgent task confronts the United States than to bring them into harmony.

## II

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

353

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355

instance where we resisted aggression we did not use the weapon
around which our whole military planning had been built. The
hiatus between military and national policy was complete. Our
power was not commensurate with the objectives of our national
policy and our military doctrine could not find any intermediary
application for the new weapons. The growth of the Soviet atomic
stockpile has merely brought the physical equation into line with
the psychological one; it has increased the reluctance to engage
in a general war even more. But it has not changed the funda-
mental question of how the political and military doctrines can
be harmonized, how our power can give impetus to our policy
rather than paralyzing it.

One way of avoiding this problem is to deny that it exists. It is
possible to argue that the term "stalemate" is illusory, that in
an all-out war one side is almost certain to be able to "win" in
the sense of being able to impose its will on its antagonist. This
is technically correct. But it does not affect the calculus by which
the decision to enter the war is taken: in its crudest form, whether
it is "worth" fighting the war in the first place. Obviously no
Power will start a war it thinks it is going to lose. But it will also
be reluctant to start a war if the price of victory may be its
national substance. The capacity to inflict greater losses on the
enemy than one suffers is the condition of policy; it cannot be
its objective.

The transformation imposed by the "nuclear stalemate" is
not that victory in an all-out war has become technically im-
possible but that it can no longer be imposed at an acceptable
cost. Nor is this conclusion avoided by an appeal to military
rationality. For example, in Paul Nitze's hypothetical general
war confined to airfields and S.A.C. installations, the bombing of
cities would be unwise in the early stages of the war and unneces-
sary in the later ones after air superiority has been achieved.² But
this assumes that victory is the only rational objective in war.
It overlooks the fact that war is not only the instrument for im-
posing one's will on the defeated but is also a tool for frustrating
this intent by making the effort too costly. An air battle would
be a rational strategy for the side which has a strategic advantage
either in terms of base structure or in weapons potential, for it
would put the enemy at its mercy at a minimum cost. But for
the side which stands to lose the air battle and which seeks to

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III

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

357

#### IV

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FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

359

But if neither an agreed legitimacy nor a stable power relation-
ship exists today, they may be outweighed by the third factor in
the equation: the fear of thermonuclear war. Never before have
the consequences of all-out war been so unambiguous, never have
the gains seemed so incommensurable with the sacrifices. What
statesman who declared war in 1914 would not have recoiled had
he known the shape of the world in 1918? Today every weapons
test augurs much worse horrors. There exists, therefore, a limiting
condition to every diplomatic move. The distinction between
tactical and strategic nuclear weapons may be nebulous in mili-
tary terms, but every state has a powerful incentive to make
some distinction, however tenuous its logic. The fear that an
all-out thermonuclear war might lead to the disintegration of the
social structure should be utilized to guarantee the "limits" of
war and diplomacy.

The key problem of our present-day strategy is therefore to
devise alternative capabilities to confront our opponent with
contingencies from which he can extricate himself only by thermo-
nuclear war, but to deter him from this step by our retaliatory
capacity. All Soviet moves in the postwar period have had this
character; they have faced us with problems which by themselves
did not seem "worth" an all-out warª but which we were unable
to deal with by an alternative strategy. We refused to defeat the
Chinese in Korea because we were unwilling to risk an all-out
conflict; we saw no solution to the Indo-Chinese crisis without
dangers we were reluctant to confront. A doctrine for the gradu-
ated employment of force might reverse or at least arrest this
trend. Graduated deterrence is thus not an alternative to mas-
sive retaliation but its complement, for it is the capability for
"massive retaliation" which provides the sanction against ex-
panding war.

ª See, for example, Thomas K. Finletter's letter to the *New York Herald Tribune*, December 22, 1955.

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V

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

361

At the same time, a doctrine for the graduated employment of force and the renunciation of unconditional surrender should not be confused with the acceptance of a stalemate. The flexibility of our diplomacy will increase as our military alternatives multiply. And militarily, the notion that there is no alternative between total victory and the status quo ante is much too mechanical. If the military position of an enemy became untenable and if he were offered choices other than unconditional surrender, he might accept local withdrawals without resorting to all-out war. If S.A.C. retains its retaliatory capacity, the other side may decide that amputation is preferable to suicide. In these terms the calculus of risks by which a limited nuclear war is expanded into an all-out thermonuclear exchange is almost the same as that by which a limited conventional war is expanded into an all-out war. Whether we can obtain local adjustments will thus depend on: 1, the ability to generate pressures other than the threat of thermonuclear war; 2, the ability to create a climate of opinion in which national survival is not thought to be at stake in every issue; 3, the ability to keep control of public opinion should a disagreement arise over whether national survival is at stake.

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FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

363

VI

364

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FORCE AND DIPLOMACY

365

an evaluation of power factors. Indeed, the claim to superior
spirituality remains the battle cry of Asian nationalism. More-
over, the bad conscience of the colonial Powers and their pre-
occupation with European problems gave the struggle for in-
dependence more the character of a domestic debate than of a
power dispute. To be sure, many of the leaders of the newly in-
dependent Powers spent years in jail and suffered heroically for
their cause. It is not to deny the measure of their dedication to
assert that the results achieved were out of proportion to their
suffering. Empires which had held vast dominions for hundreds
of years disappeared without a battle being fought.

And if it is difficult for the leaders to retain a sense of propor-
tion, it is next to impossible for the mass of the people. On the
whole they were involved in the struggle for independence only
with their sympathies; to them the disappearance of the colonial
Powers must seem nothing short of miraculous. Moreover, most
of the people of the newly independent states live in pre-industrial
societies. It would be difficult enough for them to grasp the full
impact of industrialism; it is too much to expect them to under-
stand the meaning of nuclear technology. It is therefore under-
standable that in most former colonial areas there is an over-
estimation of what can be achieved by the power of words alone.
Nor is this tendency diminished by the rewards that fall to the
uncommitted in the contest for their allegiance waged by the two
big power centers. There must be an almost overwhelming temp-
tation to defer the solution of difficult internal problems by enter-
ing the international arena, to solidify a complicated domestic
position by triumphs in the field of foreign policy.

But however understandable, it is a dangerous trend. If this
were a tranquil period, nothing would be involved but minor
irritations. But in the present crisis, the dogmatism of these
newly independent states makes them susceptible to Soviet
"peace offensives," and their lack of appreciation of power re-
lationships may cause them to overestimate the protection af-
forded by moral precepts.

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VII

One of the difficulties in the nuclear period has been our tendency to treat its problems primarily as technical. But power is meaningless in the absence of a doctrine for employing it. The debate provoked by Mr. Dulles' interview in *Life* has again emphasized this dilemma: the enormity of modern weapons makes the thought of war repugnant, but a refusal to run any risk would amount to giving the Soviets a blank check. Our dilemma has been defined as the alternative of Armageddon or defeat without war. We can overcome the paralysis induced by such a prospect only by creating other alternatives both in our diplomacy and in our military policy. Such measures require strong nerves. We can make the graduated employment of force stick only if we leave no doubt about our readiness to face a final showdown; its effectiveness will depend on our willingness to face up to the risks of Armageddon.

[LC]

Article in *New Times*, June 1956, p. 17-18.

"Mr. Henry A. Kissinger, head of an American study group on "nuclear weapons and foreign policy," has an article in the April issue of *Foreign Affairs*, an American quarterly, entitled: "Force and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age." Mr. Kissinger's emphasis is definitely on force, not diplomacy. He does not believe that peaceful coexistence is possible, or that war can be averted, and his article is peppered with such words as "war," "positions of strength," etc.

He has no use for anyone who believes that "there is no alternative to peace," for, he writes,

"If the phrase 'there is no alternative to peace' were to become accepted doctrine, it could lead only to a paralysis of policy...We can overcome the paralysis...only by creating other alternatives both in our diplomacy and in our military policy. Such measures require strong nerves. We can make the graduated employment of force stick only if we leave no doubt about our readiness to face a final showdown."

But since everywhere there is powerful resistance to the unleashing of another world war, Kissinger suggests "limited wars." He classifies them as follows: a war confined to a geographic area (Korea and Indonesia are cited as examples); a war that does not utilize the whole weapons system; a war that utilized the whole weapons system but limits its employment to specific targets.

"The prerequisite for a policy of limited war," Kissinger explains, "is the re-introduction of the political element into our concept of warfare and the surrender of the notion that policy ends when war begins or that war has goals different from those of national policy."

Accordingly, Kissinger suggests that America stop talking of peace, rid itself of "the fear of thermonuclear war" and condition public opinion to accept new military conflicts.

Accordingly, Klaasinger suggests that America should talk of 'bese', or that war has goals different from those of national policy.'

Warfare and the surrender of the notion that policy ends when war begins is the re-introduction of the political element into our concept of 'The prudence for a policy of limited war.' Klaasinger explains its employment to specific targets.

Weapons system; a war that utilized the whole weapons system but limits China are cited as examples); a war that does not utilize the whole them as follows: a war confined to a geographic area (Korea and Indonesia of another world war, Klaasinger suggests "limited war". He classifies its employment to specific targets.

But since everywhere there is power, resistance to the unseating of our readiness to face a final showdown.'

Graduated employment of force after only if we leave no demand for policy. Such measures require strong nerves. We can make the other alternatives possible in our diplomacy and in our military of policy...We can overcome the barbels...only by creating a sense of accepted doctrine, if could lead only to a barbels. 'It the phrase 'there is no alternative to bese,' were to be 'se,' for, he writes,

He has no use for anyone who believes that "there is no alternative as 'war'""positions of strength," etc.

or that war can be averted, and the article is peppered with such words not diplomacy. He does not believe that peaceful coexistence is possible, in the Nuclear Age." Mr. Klaasinger's emphasis is definitely on force, of Foreign Affairs, an American quarterly, entitled: "Force and Diplomacy "nuclear weapons and foreign policy," has an article in the April issue of Henry A. Klaasinger, head of an American study group on Article in New Times, June 1962, p. 17-18.

[FC]

2

'Such a program,' he writes, 'should be distinguished sharply from the Soviet 'ban the bomb' propaganda, however. We cannot afford even the implication that nuclear weapons are in a special category, apart from modern weapons in general, for this undermines the psychological basis of the most effective United States strategy.'

This, then, is the picture: at a time when public opinion throughout the world is demanding that the menace of war be removed for all time and international cooperation strengthened, Kissinger is trying to legalize war as a 'conventional' policy weapon.

His is a hopeless job, for the peoples do not want war, and they will make peaceful coexistence the guiding principle of international relations."

relations."

will make beautiful coexistence the guiding principle of international

His is a hopeful job, for the peoples do not want war, and they
to legislate war as a 'conventional' policy weapon.

time and international cooperation strengthened, Klaasinger is trying
out the world is demanding that the menace of war be removed for all

This, then, is the picture: at a time when public opinion through-
ought strategy,

mines the bayological paste of the most effective United States
category, apart from modern weapons in general, for this under-
afford even the implication that nuclear weapons are in a special
from the Soviet 'pan the pump, probands' however. We cannot
such a program, he writes, 'should be distinguished similarly

5

J. B. & Co.

May 12, 1956

THE WEEKLY BULLETIN

No. 18 (2)

POKER WITH ATOM BOMBS ?

Looking back on the numerous conferences of recent times, one may note with satisfaction that the tension between the East and the West block has not resulted in a new world war, and that the small wars could be regionally confined. Nevertheless, it remains a disturbing fact that the Soviet Union's flexible political tactics have again and again achieved practical successes. The successes of the East block and western withdrawals are all the more disturbing since the Soviet Union recently - forcedly, as Mr. Dulles has it - has changed her tactics in foreign policy, without the Geneva conference or the visits of Russian leaders abroad, such as the one in England, having shed a clear light on Moscow's real intentions.

Although, until a short time ago, the United States were in possession of the atom monopoly, or at least with respect to nuclear warfare had a clear superiority, hopes to put a stop to Russian expansion have not been fulfilled. This may partly be due to the fact that the West, because of the initial advantage in atomic weapons, disarmed too quickly and too thoroughly. The Soviet Union, on the other hand, has intensified rearmaments and, for the rest, hoped that the Western powers would not use their atomic weapons in "small wars". But as both blocks have now reached the same stage in the development of atomic weapons, the question must be asked what can actually be done in the field of foreign policy with atomic weapons. The question is whether they can still be relied upon as deterrents, or whether they are simply chips in a risky political poker game.

## Critical Considerations

The American review "Foreign Affairs" in its April issue has published a remarkable article from the pen of Henry A. Kissinger, Professor at Harvard University, in which he critically examines the present situation. It is entitled "Force and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age". Kissinger in the first place points out that there are a number of contradictions in western thinking. Thus, on the one hand President Eisenhower has declared that there is "no alternative to peace". Kissinger sees in this the antithesis to the old slogan of "massive retaliation". But at the same time, Mr. Eisenhower has declared that "peace at any price" would be out of the question. Even if the expressions "no alternative to peace" and "retaliation" must not be interpreted in their absolute sense, nevertheless Kissinger is of the opinion that one should at least define how the third slogan "peace at any price" is to be interpreted.

Kissinger states that Russian manoeuvres have up to now always taken the West by surprise. When the Russians advanced aggressively, the West put the emphasis on armaments, but neglected to create a secure political and psychological system for a policy of force. Now, when the Russians switch over to a peace offensive, the West is apt to forget that it can only be successful in advancing economic development if it is supplemented by an effective military defence. One has to distinguish between what a power declares it will do and what it would be in a position to do.

## Atom Paralysis and Atom Blackmail

Kissinger writes that the United States have not been able to exploit their initial superiority in atomic weapons to their advantage and for this he gives several reasons, such as the alliance with the Russians during the second world war, humanitarian considerations and finally, and especially significant, the uncertainty of the international position of the USA. The atomic monopoly under these circumstances was only a very limited deterrent by putting brakes on the Russian expansion, but not entirely stopping it. But even this is questioned by Kissinger. He thinks that Moscow

No. 18 (3)

after the heavy losses of World War II would in any case not have been in
a position to lead a third world war. Not even a dictatorship can pursue all
aims simultaneously. Now, according to Kissinger, the deterrent effect of
atomic weapons has become all the more questionable since also the Soviet
Union possesses them. The United States have been able to gain neither diplo-
matic advantages nor increased diplomatic manoeuvrability solely from the
possession of nuclear weapons. They became bogged in political stagnation
owing to these very weapons, while the Soviet Union by pointing to their
terrible effects can use them for blackmail. This is why Russia can rule un-
disturbedly over Eastern Europe and why she has been successful in Korea and
Indochina.

War and Politics

According to Kissinger, this situation results from the fact that the development of atomic weapons has not been integrated in the overall political conception. The West in any case lacks a military and political doctrine. While in former times, as Kissinger points out, wars have been conducted to achieve certain aims, the political aims became subordinated to the conduct of the war as such already in the first world war, when only victory and destruction of the enemy were important. When the enemy had been destroyed, diplomacy proved incapable of establishing a secure peace. Similarly, the second world war was a war conducted on the principle of "l'art pour l'art". To this one might add that it certainly applies to the Allies, but not to the Third Reich. The Western powers now are confined to preventing new aggression and further expansion of the East block. There is thus, as Kissinger rightly writes, a gap between military and political thinking and this prevented atomic weapons from being used where it was necessary to intervene by force of arms, as for instance in Korea or Indochina.

In order to start a war, says Kissinger, there must for one thing
be a political aim which justifies the risk taken, and furthermore the cer-
tainty that the enemy will suffer greater losses than oneself. Certainly,
no war will be started when the price to be paid is one's own destruction.
That the enemy's losses will be heavier is a condition for war, but cannot
be its aim. According to Kissinger, the atomic stalemate of the West con-
sists not in atomic warfare making war impossible, but in making the price
to be paid too high.

Limitation of Aims

According to Kissinger, politics must not end when war starts; rather war must have the same aims as politics. But first of all, it is necessary to have a policy and to have aims, and then the question arises what these limited aims are and how they can be limited.

Kissinger shows that between the Peace of Westphalia and the French Revolution, and between the Congress of Vienna and the First World War, there have been only limited wars, because the political system caused the powers to limit their politics and this predominantly owing to the awareness that revolutions such as had appeared from the Thirty Years' War and from Napoleon must never occur again. Furthermore, at that time, there were no dissatisfied nations, no revolutionary powers, and no divergences in the national order, and finally no new weapons.

At present, according to Kissinger, such a favorable situation no longer exists. Besides the quick development of military technology, there is especially the fact that the Soviet Union considers the order existing in the West block as being irreconcilably opposed to the communist order, that it considers countries abroad as inimical, and even ferments revolutions abroad according to the thesis of world revolution. On the other hand, never before has the possible gain in case of war been in so grotesque a disproportion to the sacrifices necessary. A total atomic war could totally destroy the existing social order. Therefore, it should be possible to limit the political and military aims.

No. 18 (4)

## Doctrine of Graduated Employment of Force

Kissinger's view is that the adversary should be manoeuvred into a position from which he could only extricate himself by atomic war, but at the same time he should be prevented from doing so by threats of retaliation. The Soviet Union itself has up to now successfully used these tactics, and the West was afraid that in small wars, such as Indochina and Korea, the use of nuclear weapons would result in all-out war.

According to Kissinger, this development could have been stopped if the western side had adopted the doctrine of graduated employment of force. This gradual deterrent is not an antithesis to massive retaliation, but rather complements it, because "massive retaliation" remains the possible ultimate ratio.

Kissinger's view is that if the prospect is one of total defeat, and therefore possibly of annihilation of national existence, the doctrine of unconditional surrender contains the danger that the enemy despite himself resorts to nuclear warfare out of sheer self-defence. An adversary aware of his inferiority should be given a possibility to withdraw instead of having to accept unconditional surrender. "An amputation is better than suicide."

Kissinger summarises the situation with which the USA are faced in four points: (1) Thermonuclear war must be avoided, except as a last resort. (2) No power possessing thermonuclear weapons is likely to accept unconditional surrender without employing them and no nation is likely to risk thermonuclear destruction except to the extent that it believes its survival is at stake. (3) American diplomacy must make it clear to other powers that there is no question of unconditional surrender, and that their national existence is not threatened. At the same time, it must also leave no doubt about its determination to resist further Soviet expansion. (4) Since diplomacy not related to a plausible employment of force is sterile, military policy must develop a doctrine which allows graduated employment of force.

## Conclusions

The well-known English military writer Liddell Hart arrives at conclusions similar to those of Kissinger in an article in a Swiss magazine on the defence of the West. He writes: "To accept the principle of graduated action would be a secure defensive policy. If, moreover, we announced clearly that we only intend to use the H-bomb in extreme cases, we would strengthen our moral position and would diminish the fear that every countermove against aggression would even more surely lead to a catastrophe than yielding."

Nonetheless, it is remarkable that such fundamental appraisals of the situation as have been made by Liddell Hart and Kissinger, that is to say by military and political outsiders, are not being taken up by political and military leaders. These confine themselves to explanations from case to case, partly for internal consumption and partly for foreign consumption, and thus promote misunderstandings and contradictions. As against this, Kissinger at the end of his article says: "One of the difficulties in the nuclear period has been our tendency to treat its problems primarily as technical. But power is meaningless in the absence of a doctrine for employing it. The enormity of modern weapons makes the thought of war repugnant, but a refusal to run any risk would amount to giving the Soviets a blank check."

In his time, Mr. Clemenceau coined the phrase that war was too serious a matter to be left to the generals. Today peace is too serious a matter to be left exclusively to the politicians who merely strive for, and stick to, their seats.

Julius Bär & Co.

(Reprints or quotations permitted only under full mention of source)

WESTERN
UNION

W. P. MARSHALL, PRESIDENT

1220

<table><thead><tr><th>SYMBOLS</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>DL=Day Letter</td></tr><tr><td>NL=Night Letter</td></tr><tr><td>LT=Int'l Letter Telegram</td></tr><tr><td>VLT=Int'l Victory Ltr.</td></tr></tbody></table>

The filing time shown in the date line on telegrams and day letters is STANDARD TIME at point of origin. Time of receipt is STANDARD TIME at point of destination

B WAO16 LONG GOVT NL PD=WUX WASHINGTON DC 1=
DR HENRY A KISSINGER=HARVARD UNIVERSITY
CAMBRIDGE MASS=

1956 FEB 2 AM 6 31

DR. ELLIOTT HAS CIRVULATED ADVANCE DRAFT OF YOUR ARTICLE "FORCE AND DIPLOMACY IN THE NUCLEAR PERIOD".

¶ MAY I RESPECTFULLY SUGGEST THAT YOUR QUOTE OF A SINGLE PHRASE FROM THE PRESIDENT AND YOUR PARAPHRASE OF MY STATEMENTS GIVE AN ERRONEOUS IMPRESSION OF CURRENT UNITED STATES POLICY. THE PRESIDENT'S PHRASE "NO ALTERNATIVE TO PEACE" IS TAKEN FROM THE MIDDLE OF A SENTENCE WHICH IN ITS ENTIRETY READS AS FOLLOWS: "SINCE THE ADVENT OF NUCLEAR WEAPONS, IT SEEMS CLEAR THERE IS NO LONGER ANY ALTERNATIVE TO PEACE, IF THERE IS TO BE A HAPPY AND WELL WORLD". THE PRESIDENT HAS MANY TIMES MADE CLEAR THAT THIS DID NOT IMPLY A POLICY OF PEACE AT ANY PRICE. FOR EXAMPLE, ON DECEMBER 17, 1954, HE SAID: "AMERICA IS FOR PEACE BASED UPON DECENCY AND RIGHT. BUT LET NO MAN THINK THAT WE WANT PEACE AT ANY PRICE; THAT WE SHALL FORSAKE PRINCIPLE IN RESIGNED TOLERANCE OF EVIDENT EVIL; OR THAT WE MAY PAWN OUR HONOR FOR TRANSITORY CONCESSION."

¶ MY POSITION COULD MORE CORRECTLY BE TRANSLATED AS MEANING THAT THE FUTURE POTENTIAL OF PEACEFUL APPLICATION OF NUCLEAR ENERGY HAS PROVIDED A CONSTRUCTIVE ALTERNATIVE TO SOME OF THE HISTORIC REASONS FOR WARS OF AGGRESSION,

THE COMPANY WILL APPRECIATE SUGGESTIONS FROM ITS PATRONS CONCERNING ITS SERVICE

WESTERN
UNION

W. P. MARSHALL, PRESIDENT

1220

<table><thead><tr><th colspan="2">SYMBOLS</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>DL</td><td>Day Letter</td></tr><tr><td>NL</td><td>Night Letter</td></tr><tr><td>LT</td><td>Int'l Letter Telegram</td></tr><tr><td>VLT</td><td>Int'l Victory Ltr.</td></tr></tbody></table>

BECAUSE EACH MAJOR POWER CAN NOW BRING ABOUT A TREMENDOUS INCREASE IN ITS GROSS PRODUCTION WITHOUT ANNEXING EITHER FOREIGN TERRITORY OR FOREIGN LABOR. I HAVE ALSO MADE CLEAR MANY TIMES THAT THIS DID NOT MEAN PEACE AT ANY PRICE AND THAT WE MUST BE AWARE OF CONTINUED GREAT DANGER AND SERIOUS PERIL. FOR EXAMPLE, IN MY ADDRESS TO THE NATIONAL INDUSTRIAL CONFERENCE BOARD DINNER AT THE WALDORF-AETORIA HOTEL ON OCTOBER 27, 1955, I SAID AS FOLLOWS: " EVERY COUNTRY HAS FIGURATIVELY OPEN TO IT AN UNDEVELOPED NUCLEAR COUNTRY EQUAL IN SIZE TO ITS PRESENT TERRITORY, WHICH IT CAN DEVELOP AND ENJOY WITHOUT CONTENDING WITH A RIVAL CLAIMANT. UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES, COVETING OR CLAIMING THE DEVELOPED TERRITORY OF ANOTHER NATION WITH THE INEVITABLE RISK OF MUTUAL DEVASTATION IS SHEER FOLLY. THIS IS THE FUNDAMENTAL FACT OF THE ATOMIC AGE WHICH IS SLOWLY PENETRATING THE MINDS OF MEN EVERYWHERE." = HAROLD E STASSEN.

FORCE AND DIPLOMACY. IN THE NUCLEAR PERIOD

by
Henry A. Kissinger

In his whimsical essay "Perpetual Peace" written in 1795 the German
philosopher Kant predicted that world peace could be attained in one of two
ways: by a moral consensus which he identified with a republican form of
government, or by a cycle of wars of ever-increasing violence which would
reduce the major powers to impotence.

There is no evidence that Kant's essay was taken seriously in his life-
time, or indeed for a century and a half afterwards. But much of the current
discussion about the impact of new weapons has the apocalyptic quality of a pre-
monition of Kant's second proposition. It is only natural, of course, that an
age which has known two world wars and an uneasy armistice since should have
as its central problem the attainment of peace. It is paradoxical, however,
that so much hope should concentrate on man's most destructive capabilities. We
are told that the growth of thermo-nuclear stockpiles has created a "nuclear
stalemate" which makes war, if not too risky, at least unprofitable. The Presi-
dent has argued that there is an increasing realization of the horrors of a
nuclear holocaust, that there exists "no alternative to peace." Mr. Stassen has
maintained that the peaceful application of nuclear energy has made irrelevant
most of the traditional reasons for fighting wars because each major power can
now bring about a tremendous increase in its power output without annexing
either foreign territory or foreign labor. And Walter Lippman has interpreted
the Geneva "summit conference" as a non-aggression treaty: a recognition by
the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. that war is no longer a conceivable instrument of po-
licy and that for this reason international disputes can be settled only by
means of diplomacy.

- 2 -

These assertions have passed almost without challenge. They fit in well with a national psychology which considers peace as the "normal" pattern of relations among states and which has few doubts that reasonable men meeting in an atmosphere of good will can settle all differences by honest compromise. Too much depends, however, on the correctness of such propositions not to subject them to closer scrutiny. For the impact of the new weapons -- as every revolution -- has not only a technical but a conceptual side. Until power is used, it is, as Colonel Lincoln from West Point has wisely said, what people think it is. But except for the two explosions of obsolete type bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, no nuclear weapons have ever been set off in wartime; there exists therefore no previous experience on which to draw. To a considerable extent the impact of the new weapons on strategy, on policy, indeed on survival, depends on our interpretation of their significance.

It, therefore, becomes of crucial importance that the U.S. not paralyze itself by developing a calculus of risks according to which all dangers would seem to be on our side. For if the Soviets interpret the meaning of new technological developments more flexibly they may gain a crucial advantage, not because their doctrine is correct, but because it is flexible; not because their action is wise, but because they possess a doctrine which permits them to act at all. Massive retaliation, our current military doctrine, is no longer a workable strategic concept; it simplifies Soviet policy because it puts a premium on probing actions where the risks of total war seem out of proportion to the objectives to be obtained. And it limits our flexibility because the decision to resist is never taken in the abstract; it always reflects a calculus of risks and as the Soviet nuclear stockpile grows our reluctance to run the risks of a major war will increase. We shall continue to insist that we shall

- 3 -

fight for our vital interests; but the borderline between what is considered vital and what is peripheral will shift with the growth of the Soviet nuclear stockpile.

But perhaps the Soviets are facing the same problem? Perhaps an equilibrium can be attained, if not of mutual comprehension, then of mutual terror? There is some evidence for this in the reiterated Soviet statements of the horrors of a hydrogen war. But apart from the fact that these statements are usually addressed to foreigners and may, therefore, be designed to increase the inhibitions of *others*, it makes all the difference which side has to *initiate* thermonuclear war. As long as the Soviets possess a sufficiently flexible weapons system, they can confront us with a series of contingencies which shift the risk of *initiating* an all-out war on us; which force us to calculate peripheral objectives in terms of the destruction of New York or Washington or Chicago.

Thus, even if the Soviet are sincere in their professions of their fear of *all-out* war, the need for a reappraisal of our military doctrine does not diminish. For it is one of the most difficult tasks of statesmanship to reconcile the professions of another power with its potential. If the international order possessed the sanction of domestic arrangements, relations could be conducted largely on the basis of what states assert their intentions to be. But in an international order composed of sovereign states, the intentions of another power are subject to no compulsion, its potential is always capable of being used with hostile intent. This is the real meaning of "atomic blackmail."
As the Soviet nuclear stockpile grows overt threats have become unnecessary;

¹ For a fuller discussion see the author's "Military Policy and the Defense of the Grey Areas," *Foreign Affairs*, April, 1955.

[N]

- 4 -

The phrase "there is no alternative to peace" can therefore only lead to a paralysis of policy. It is tantamount to a renunciation of power and a staking of everything on the professions of another sovereign state. This would have been difficult at any period; it becomes an invitation to disaster when confronted with a revolutionary power which prides itself on its superior understanding of "objective" forces, and to which professions unrelated to a plausible possibility of employing force will seem either hypocrisy or stupidity. Force and diplomacy are not discrete realms; on the contrary, the ultimate pressure during negotiations has always been the possibility that recourse might be had to force. All the great international congresses occurred either at the end of wars which had established the relative strength of the contending powers or achieved their settlements on the basis of a grouping of states whose strength was so well understood that recourse to force was unnecessary. To be sure, the threat to use force was not always made explicit and many conferences were conducted in a spirit of good-will and harmony. But this only reflected the fact that the protagonists understood the limits set by the ultimate sanction of using force and conducted themselves accordingly.

If the slogan "there is no alternative to peace" becomes accepted doctrine,
it will remove both a powerful brake on Soviet probing actions and any incentive
for making concessions. And if we couple it with the statement that we do not
accept the status quo we can only give impetus to Soviet peace offensives without generating a meaningful pressure on the Soviet sphere. The more terrible

² See the author's "The Congress of Vienna - A Reappraisal," *World Politics*, January, 1956.

- 5 -

the weapons technology, the greater will be the reluctance to run the risk
of any action that may involve its use. The strength of the British position
in the 19th century was a clear understanding of the nature of sea power and a
strategic doctrine which permitted this understanding to be translated into
reality. The difficulty with present military technology is that we are far
from an agreement about its essential components and that the very power of
modern weapons far from giving us freedom of action, seems to inhibit it.
In short, our weapons technology and the objectives for employing them have
become incommensurable. No more urgent task confronts the U.S. than to bring
them into harmony.

II

But perhaps this incommensurability is inherent in the new weapons and
not in the military doctrine? Perhaps we are moving into a new era of interna-
tional relations in which the powers will have to adjust themselves to the
fact that force can no longer be used? What of the "nuclear stalemate" so
often invoked?

The first thing to notice is that the term "nuclear stalemate" covers
many relationships, each with different consequences for policy. In one sense,
for example, it refers to a condition in which one side possesses a defensive
capability to absorb for all practical purposes the maximum air-offensive po-
tential of the other. In this case, there would occur a stalemate in the air-
battle and the issue of the war would depend on alternative weapons systems.
Such a stalemate, moreover, would make war more, rather than less, likely be-
cause neither side would need to calculate with widespread physical destruction.
Another kind of stalemate would occur if both sides possessed a sufficient

- 6 -

offensive capability to inflict catastrophic blows on the other. This is the
situation most frequently thought of when the term "stalemate" is used. Such
a stalemate, if it exists, would have a deterrent effect, but not to <u>all</u>
forms of aggression. On the contrary, the deterrent effect works both ways:
not only aggression, but the resistance to it becomes risky. What this type
of stalemate deters is not war as such, but all-out war. The side which can
present its challenges in less than all-out form would thereby gain a decided
advantage.

Moreover, even if there does exist a stalemate, it does not make for
stability in the present volatile state of technology, and much less for a con-
sciousness of harmony. The specter of a technological breakthrough by the
other side would always loom large; it would lend an apocalyptic quality to
all current international relations. To be sure, not every technological
breakthrough is of the same significance. A more elegant delivery system by
itself will not prove decisive, provided either side can get a sufficient number
of weapons on the target. A fundamental advance in the relation of offense
to defense, on the other hand, may upset the military equation completely.
Military superiority, therefore, depends not on the effectiveness of any one
weapon, but on the relation of offense and defense to each other. The impor-
tance of this offense-defense "mix" can be illustrated by the following example:
If one power places all its bets on strategic air power while the other side
develops a very large defensive capability and only moderate offensive air-
power, it may happen that the defensive capability of the offensively weaker
power will absorb the total offense of the other side, thus freeing the initial-
ly weaker SAC for a mortal blow.

- 7 -

Still the technical problems can be overdone. For the purpose of
national policy the significance of the term "stalemate" resides not in the
technical, but in the psychological aspect. For the "stalemate" is not any-
thing new. In a very real sense there has been a nuclear stalemate since the
explosions over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was, to be sure, not a physical
stalemate: for close to a decade the U.S. was relatively immune from Soviet
retaliation. But it was a stalemate none the less in the sense that we never
succeeded in translating our military advantage into an act of policy. This
was due to many factors: a theory of war which knew no issue save total victory,
humanitarian impulses, lack of clarity about the process in which we found our-
selves involved. But whatever the reason, the U.S. atomic nonopoly had at best
a deterrent effect. It may have prevented a further expansion of the Soviet
sphere; it did not enable us to achieve a strategic transformation in our favor.
Even the deterrent effect is questionable: assuming that there had never been
an atomic bomb, would we have surrendered Europe to the Soviets? Would the
U.S.S.R. have risked a general war, so soon after having its territory devastated
by the Germans and losing, on the most conservative estimates, 10 million
dead? Not even a dictatorship can do everything simultaneously.

But apart from the questionable deterrence to an all-out war, the period
of our atomic monopoly witnessed the consolidation of a satellite orbit in
Eastern Europe, the triumph of Communism in China and most fundamentally, the
growth of the Soviet atomic stockpile. Those who expect great things from
technological breakthroughs would do well to study American actions after Hiro-
shima and Nagasaki. No foreseeable technological breakthrough is likely to be
more fundamental than the discovery of the A-bomb. Yet its possession did not
enable us to prevent another power which never hid its hostile intent to expand
its orbit and to develop a capacity to inflict a mortal blow on the U.S.

- 8 -

What happened? Simply that we added the A-bomb to our military arsenal
without integrating its implications into our thinking; that we saw in it a tool
in a theory of warfare which had showed a poverty, indeed almost an absence
of conception during the two world wars, but which became completely inap-
plicable after the explosions over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. For over a cen-
tury before the outbreak of World War I, wars were an extension of policy.
Because they were fought for determinate objectives there existed a rough
commensurability between the force employed and the goal sought. But with the
outbreak of World War I, war suddenly seemed to become an end in itself. After
the first few months of the war, none of the protagonists would have been able
to name an objective other than the total defeat of the enemy or at least they
would have named objectives, such as the German demand for the annexation of
Belgium, which amounted to unconditional surrender. This was all the more re-
markable because none of the political leaders had prepared for anything but
a war in the 19th century style, with rapid movements and quick decisions, so
that the stalemate of the first winter was due primarily to the exhaustion of
munition supplies. There had in fact occurred a hiatus between military and
political planning which has never been bridged. The military staffs had de-
veloped plans for total victory, because these are the most determinate plans
possible in which all factors are under the control of the military. But the
political leadership proved incapable of giving this conception a concrete ex-
pression in terms of peace aims. The result was four years of war of ever-in-
creasing violence which carried its hatreds into a peace treaty that considered
more the redressing of sacrifices than the stability of the international order

³ Raymond Aron. *A Century of Total War*. Chapter I.

-9-

and led within less than a generation to another world war fought in the same
style.

The notion that war and peace, political and military goals were discrete
entities had become so commonplace by the end of World War II that the most
powerful nation in the world found itself paralyzed by the enormity of its
own weapons technology. In every concrete instance, even in the matter of the
regulation of the atom which affected our very survival we found ourselves
stalemated by our own preconceptions: the consequences of our actions always
seemed to outbalance the gains to be achieved. Thus our policy became entirely
defensive: we possessed a doctrine of power to repel overt aggression, but we
could not translate it into a positive goal. And even in the one instance where
we resisted aggression we did not use the weapon around which our whole military
planning had been built. The hiatus between military and national policy was
complete: our power was incommensurable with the objectives of our national
policy and our military doctrine could not find any intermediary application
for our power. The growth of the Soviet atomic stockpile has merely brought the
physical equation in line with the psychological one; it has increased the reluc-
tance to engage in a general war even more. But it has not changed the funda-
mental question: how the political and military doctrines can be harmonized,
how our power can give impetus to our policy rather than paralyze it.

### III

One way of avoiding the problem is to deny that it exists. It is possible
to argue that the whole term "stalemate" is illusory, that in an all-out war
one side is almost certain to be able to "win" in the sense of being able to
impose its will on its antagonist. This is technically correct. But it does

- 10 -

not affect the calculus by which the decision to enter the war is taken: in
its crudest form whether it is "worth" fighting the war in the first place.
Obviously no power will start a war it thinks it is going to lose. But it
will also be reluctant to start a war during the course of which it thinks
it will lose its national substance. It is doubtful whether France would
have entered World War I had she known the losses she would suffer. The
capacity to inflict greater losses on the enemy than one suffers, is the
<u>condition</u> of policy; it cannot be its end.

The transformation imposed by the "nuclear stalemate" is not that
victory in an all-out war has become technically impossible, but that it
can no longer be imposed <u>at an acceptable cost</u>. Nor is this conclusion
avoided by an appeal to military rationality. In Paul Nitze's hypothetical
all-out war, for example, confined to air-fields and SAC installations,
the bombing of cities would be unwise in the early stages of the war and
unnecessary in the later ones after air-superiority has been achieved. ⁴
But this assumes that victory is the only rational objective of a power in
war. It overlooks that war is not only the instrument for imposing one's
will on the defeated, but also a tool for defeating this intent by making
it too costly. An air-battle would be a rational strategy for the side which
has a strategic advantage either in terms of base structure or in weapons
potential, for it would put the enemy at its mercy at a minimum cost. But
for the side, which stands to lose the air-battle and which seeks to exact a

⁴See *Foreign Affairs*, January 1956, pp. 187ff.

- 11 -

maximum price for its defeat, the most rational strategy may well reside in the greatest destructiveness. It may at least attempt to equalize the *threat* of nuclear destruction by inflicting its *actuality* on the enemy and thereby deprive him of the fruits of his victory or at least make it too risky for him to seek total victory. Unconditional surrender -- or depriving the enemy of his nuclear capability which amounts to the same thing--- cannot be achieved by subterfuge.

Others seek to avoid the horrors of nuclear war by outlawing nuclear weapons and returning to "conventional armaments." But apart from the fact that the distinction between nuclear and conventional weapons becomes increasingly nebulous as the range of low-yield weapons is increased, it will be impossible to reverse present trends. The whole planning and procurement of our defense establishment presupposes the use of nuclear weapons and procurement cycles cannot be altered every few years.

To be sure, the above argument is circular: it reasons from existing policy and policy can be reversed. But the author has become reluctantly convinced that the emphasis on nuclear weapons is correct, provided it can find a proper diversification and political expression. For the possession of nuclear weapons by both sides insures that any future war will be nuclear. At a minimum, forces will have to maneuver as if nuclear weapons might be used. This is true because the side which concentrates its forces might thereby give its opponent the precise incentive he needs to use nuclear weapons.

- 12 -

weapons. But if forces are dispersed, they will not be able to hold a line or achieve a breakthrough with conventional weapons, because the destructive power of conventional weapons is so much smaller. Finally, nuclear weapons, particularly of the low-yield type, seem to offer the best opportunity to compensate for our inferiority in man-power and to use our superiority in technology to best advantage. Of course, we have to consider not only the damage we can inflict, but the losses we would suffer. On the balance, however, the advantage is probably on our side: an increase in fire-power has generally aided the defensive and we are much more likely to resist aggression than to initiate it; nuclear war raises special problems of control, of maneuver and of diversified capability which our system, industrial and political, should be better able to withstand than that of the Soviets.

It is not for nothing that Soviet propaganda has played on two related themes: that there is no such thing as a "limited" nuclear war and "ban the bomb."

For both have the corollary "there is no alternative to peace," and both deprive our policy of flexibility and sap resistance to the preferred form of Soviet strategy: peripheral wars, internal subversion and atomic blackmail.

- 13 -

IV

We have, therefore, to return to an earlier question: whether the nuclear period permits a policy of limited wars? Before answering this question, it may be useful to analyze precisely what is meant by a limited war. Is a war limited because it involves less than the available military resources or is it limited because not all national resources are used for it? In the 17th century, for example, Louis XIV employed almost his whole army constantly for a period of close to twenty-five years. But his military establishment utilized only a relatively small proportion of the national resources. This was not due to any self-restraint on the part of the French king, but to the nature of his domestic structure which made it impossible for him to conscript his subjects or to levy income-taxes or to confiscate property. His military establishment was, therefore, limited by his available resources and with it the wars he fought. On the other hand, the wars of Prussia while they did not exceed in scope those of France, involved an incomparably greater mobilization of national resources. This was because Prussia's wealth was so much less that she could retain her position as a major power only by a domestic tour de force, by organizing the whole state for war. Still Prussia's exertions only gave her a precarious parity with stronger states; she did not force them to emulate her; the wars remained limited because the major powers were able to mobilize only a small proportion of their national resources for war and because the one power which was not so restricted did not thereby achieve a decisive advantage.

- 14 -

Since the French Revolution, the domestic restrictions on the capacity of governments to mobilize national resources have increasingly disappeared. To be sure, there still exist differences not in the *power*, but in the *willingness* to exact sacrifices: one of the sources of Soviet strength is her readiness to devote a much larger proportion of the national income to military expenditures than the U. S. But for our present purpose it is sufficient to point out that no major power will be forced to adopt a strategy of limited objectives because of insuffiient resources. With modern weapons systems, a limited war will be an act of policy, not of necessity.

What then is a limited war under modern conditions? One can think of many models: a war confined to a geographic area, a war that does not utilize the whole weapons system, but limits its employment to specific targets. But none of these military definitions seem adequate: a way may be confined geographically or in terms of targets and yet drain the national substance, as happened in France in World War I. The fact that the whole weapons system is not employed, or that the destructive capability of the existing weapons system is small, is no more a guarantee against excessive suffering. A new world war fought with World War II weapons might in the long run prove as destructive as a short nuclear war. In the Thirty Year's War the number in each army was small by present-day standards, the power of the weapons was negligible measured against modern armaments and yet it is estimated that at least 30% of the population of Germany died during its course as a result of its length and its indetermination. In short, there exists no military way to

- 15 -

limit a war, expressed in Clausewitz's dictum that wars tend towards the maximum of violence and that the only rational military objective is the destruction of the enemy's will to resist.⁶ Wars can be limited only by political decisions, by defining objectives which do not threaten the survival of the enemy. **In these terms, an all-out war is a war the objective of which is to render the enemy defenseless. A limited war is one for a determinate objective which by its very existence will establish a certain commensurability between the force employed and the goal to be attained.** The prerequisite for a policy of limited war is the re-introduction of the political element into our concept of warfare; the surrender of the notion that policy ends when war begins, or that war has goals different from those of national policy.⁷

In the great periods of European Cabinet diplomacy between the Treaty of Westphalia and the French Revolution and between the Congress of Vienna and the outbreak of the first World War, wars were limited but not through an agreement on the battlefield. Rather there existed a political framework which led to a general consciousness of limited risks. This political framework was due to several factors: there was, to begin with, a conscious decision that the upheavals of the Thirty Year's War and of the Napoleonic wars should not occur again. This decision proved most effective in the period immediately following the wars, but it gave the international orders created by the Treaty of Westphalia and the Congress of Vienna the breathing spell necessary to

⁶Clausewitz. *Vom Kriege*. Leipzig: B. Behr's Verlag, 1918. p. 3.

⁷This too was recognized by Clausewitz. Although wars, he argued, tend towards a maximum of violence, they never reach it. The violence is always tempered by the political reactions of states, by their domestic structures and by their calculation of risk. Clausewitz, *op. cit.*, p. 10ff.

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convince the major powers that none of the outstanding disputes involved their survival. More important was the fact that the international order did not contain a revolutionary power. No state was so dissatisfied with the peace settlement that it sought to gain its ends by overthrowing it and no power considered its domestic notion of justice as incompatible with that of the other components of the international order. Finally, in an era of stable weapons technology, both the strength of the powers and the assessment of it were relatively fixed, the risks of surprise attack and of unforeseen technological developments were relatively small. All this did not make conflicts impossible, but it limited them to disputes within a given framework; wars occurred, but they were fought in the name of the existing framework and the peace was legitimized as the better expression of an agreed consensus.

If we inquire which of these factors -- fear of war, legitimacy and a stable power relationship-- is present today, little cause for optimism remains. None of the major powers accept either the present framework of the international order or the domestic structure of the other states. On the contrary, we are confronted by a power which for over a generation has proclaimed the incompatibility of its domestic notion of justice with that of other states, and which has built an internal control system on the myth of a permanently hostile world. Every agreement with the Soviet bloc has proved temporary because it has been interpreted by the Soviet bloc as a tactical maneuver to prepare positions for the inevitable showdown. The slogan of "peaceful coexistence" cannot obscure the fact that we are living in a revolutionary period. For the

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justification of peaceful coexistence advanced by the Soviets is precisely their conviction that it will enable them to subvert the existing structure by means other than all-out war.

Nor is the nature of power relationships more reassuring. Even with a less volatile technology a two-power world would have an inherent element of instability because an increase in strength of one side cannot be made up by superior political dexterity, but is tantamount to an absolute weakening of the other side. Moreover, the weapons technology is far from stable. Almost up to the outbreak of World War II a weapons system would be good for a generation at least, while today it may be out-dated when it has barely passed the blue-print stage. Yet the failure to plan on the basis of these "prematurely aged" weapons might at any given point of time create a vital weakness. In the technological race, moreover, the side which has adopted the military doctrine that its opponent can always strike the first blow is at a distinct disadvantage, for it cannot afford a single mistake; it cannot afford to fall behind even for an instant. It must phase its planning and procurement over an indefinite period while its opponent, if he is determined on a show-down, can plan for a target date.

But if neither an agreed legitimacy nor a stable power relationship exist today, they may be outweighed by the third factor in the equation: the fear of thermo-nuclear war. Never before have the consequences of all-out war been so unambiguous; never the gains so incommensurable with the sacrifices. What statesman who declared war in 1914 would not have recoiled had he known the shape of the world in 1918?

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Today every weapons test augurs much worse horrors. There exists, therefore, a limiting condition to every diplomatic move. The distinction between tactical and strategic nuclear weapons may be nebulous in military terms, but every power has a powerful incentive to make some distinction, however tenuous its logic: the fear of thermo-nuclear extinction. This fear should be utilized to guarantee the "limits" of war and diplomacy.⁸

The problem of present-day strategy is, therefore, to devise alternative strategies and weapons systems to confront the other side with contingencies from which it can extricate itself only by thermo-nuclear war; but to deter it from this step by an adequate retaliatory capacity. All Soviet moves in this post-war period have had this character: they have faced us with problems which by themselves did not seem "worth" an all-out nuclear war,⁹ but with which we were unable to deal by an alternative strategy. We refused to defeat the Chinese in Korea because we were unwilling to risk an all-out conflict; we saw no solution to the Indo-Chinese crisis without increasing dangers we were reluctant to confront. A capability for the graduated employment of force may reverse or at least arrest this trend. Graduated deterrence is thus not an alternative to massive retaliation, but its complement: for it is the capability for "massive retaliation" which provides the sanction against expanding the war.

⁸ These considerations do not apply, of course, to a totally irrational decision to enter a war; Hitler presumably would have been indifferent to bringing the world down around him. But even if Hitler would not have accepted this reasoning, the certainty of nuclear destruction might have given the German military, on the verge of revolt, the incentive to refuse to carry out the order to enter the war. Similar considerations may apply to the Soviet military leadership.

⁹ See for example Mr. Finletter's letter to the *Herald Tribune*, Dec. 22, '55.

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The U. S. strategic problem, then, can be summed up in these propositions:

a) All-out thermo-nuclear war should be avoided, except as a last resort.

b) No power possessing a thermo-nuclear capability will accept unconditional surrender without employing it and no nation is likely to risk thermo-nuclear destruction except to the extent that it believes its survival to be at stake.

c) It is, therefore, the task of our diplomacy to make clear that we do not aim for unconditional surrender; to create a framework in which the question of national survival is not involved in every issue. But equally we should leave no doubt about our determination to achieve intermediate objectives.

d) Since diplomacy which is not related to a plausible employment of force is sterile, it must be the task of our military policy to develop a doctrine and a capability for the graduated employment of force.

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V

A doctrine for the graduated employment of force would enable us to escape the vicious circle in which we find ourselves and which can best be described as a flight into technology. We reply to every Soviet advance in the nuclear field by devising more fearful weapons, but in the process we reduce our willingness to employ them. A more flexible weapons system, which emphasized low-yield weapons, would extend the range of our alternatives by posing less absolute consequences. Such weapons system and the doctrine it implies can, however, only be the result of a political decision; the military cannot be asked to arrive at it on the basis of purely military considerations, for it presents them with peculiar difficulties. An all-out war is relatively simple to plan for, because its limits are set by military considerations and even by military capacity. The defining characteristic of limited wars, on the other hand, is precisely the imposition of ground rules which define its relationship to political objectives. Planning here becomes much more conjectural, much more subtle and much more indeterminate.

The military, therefore, tend to resist it as outside their scope, unless the political leadership assumes the responsibility for defining the framework within which the military are to develop plans and capabilities.

In devising a doctrine for the graduated employment of force, we should have no illusions of the political objectives attainable by it. Graduated deterrence is not a cheap substitute for "massive retaliation"; it involves the recognition that with the passing of our atomic monopoly, the possibility of imposing unconditional surrender at an acceptable cost has disappeared. The graduated employment of force, therefore, presupposes

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a capability which is really "graduated." If we build our whole strategy around "absolute" weapons, professions of limited objectives will be meaningless and any use of nuclear weapons is likely to touch off an all-out war. Our ability to fight a limited nuclear war depends, therefore, on our ability to extend the range of weapons in the low-yield field and to devise tactics for their utilization.<sup>10</sup>

The renunciation of unconditional surrender does not mean the acceptance of a military stalemate. The notion that there is no alternative between total victory or the <u>status quo ante</u> is much too mechanical. An enemy might accept intermediate transformations if his military position became untenable without resorting to all-out war. If SAC retains its retaliatory capacity, the other side may decide that amputation is preferable to suicide. In these terms, the calculus of risks by which a limited nuclear war is expanded into an all-out thermo-nuclear exchange is almost the same as that by which a limited conventional war is expanded into an all-out war. Whether we can achieve local transformations will, therefore, depend on three conditions:

a) on the ability to generate pressures other than the threat of thermo-nuclear war;

b) on the ability to create a climate of opinion in which national survival is not thought to be at stake;

c) on the ability to keep control of public opinion should a disagreement arise over whether national survival is at stake.

<sup>10</sup>One of the most important tasks of planning would seem to be the "war-gaming" of situations which involve the use of nuclear weapons by both sides and what would constitute victory in such a war. It is only fair to say that both the importance of low-yield weapons and changed tactics are being recognized by the military.

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The prerequisite for the graduated employment of force, then, is not only the capability for it, but its plausibility to the other side. Soviet reactions to American measures will depend not only on what we intend to do but what we are *thought* to intend to do. But is it possible to bring about a climate in which national survival is thought not to be at stake? Will the Soviets accept any withdrawal or will they not consider it a first step in an attempt to overthrow them? It must be admitted that there are reasonable grounds for pessimism. One cause of the revolutionary intransigence of the Soviets is, after all, their sense of insecurity, their conviction of a permanently hostile outside world. It is a conviction, moreover, which is produced not by U. S. policies, but by the existence of the U. S. as the strongest capitalist power. On the other hand, the problem is not simply one of reassuring the Soviets which is probably a well-nigh impossible effort, but of giving effect to the one interest we have presumably in common: that we both wish to avoid a thermo-nuclear war. Given this attitude, an all-out war is likely only in two contingencies: If the Soviets miscalculate their opportunity to achieve hegemony in Eurasia by peripheral actions which, in the absence of a capability for the graduated employment of force, may force us into an all-out war; or if the USSR should misunderstand our intentions and treat every US military move *as if* it were the prelude to an all-out war. It, therefore, becomes the task of our diplomacy to convey to the Soviet bloc that we are capable of courses other than all-out war. or inaction, and that we intend to use this capability. This will not inevitably prevent an all-out war: if the Soviets feel strong enough

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to knock us out by a surprise attack, they will presumably do so. But it may prevent an all-out war based either on a miscalculation or on a misunderstanding of our intentions.

Moreover, while the Marxist philosophy has heretofore imparted great flexibility to Soviet policy, we may be able to use it as well to give effect to a policy of graduated deterrence. The belief in inevitable triumph is after all as consistent with tactical withdrawal as with an effort to fill every power vacuum. All of Soviet history testifies to the fact that this is not a regime for last stands if other alternatives present themselves. One need only study the abject efforts of the Politburo in the months before the German invasion to come to a settlement with Hitler to realize that if confronted with superior power the Soviets do not hesitate to apply Lenin's dictum: one step backward, two steps forward. And this tendency is supported by all of Russian history. Russia has always been less able to apply force subtly than massively; it has always been more vulnerable to wars outside its territories than within, and to limited rather than all-out war.

But what measures are available to our diplomacy to create a framework of limited objectives? Fortunately the imbalance in our national strategy has been caused less by our diplomacy than by our military policy. Indeed, our difficulty has been precisely the fact that our moderate pronouncements have seemed incongruous in the face of an all-or-nothing military policy and that our diplomacy has been deprived of flexibility because massive retaliation has had as its corollary the slogan "there is no alternative to peace." A modification of our military doctrine

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would, therefore, go a long way towards creating a framework of limited
objectives; the next step would be to convey this change to the outside
world. In this task, it may be well to remember that every act of a
major power has not only a substantive but a symbolic significance.
Tests of high-yield weapons no doubt have their place, although there
must be an upper limit of practical effectiveness, and their deterrent
effect has to be weighed against their impact on the growth of neutralism
abroad and eventually in this country. But in the present situation,
low-yield weapons are much more likely to be translatable into political
advantage. No one doubts our ability to fight an all-out war; what is
at issue is our willingness to fight for anything save a direct attack
on the U. S. and the meaningfulness of such a resistance should it take
place.

But if it is one task of our diplomacy to present our intentions
in a way to give us maximum flexibility, it is another to leave no doubt
about the aspects of our military policy we cannot compromise. We cannot
sacrifice basic national strategy to propaganda victories. Foreign
policy is the art of utilizing the facts of life, not of denying their
existence. And one of the fundamental facts of life is that any future
war will be nuclear, that present trends should not be reversed. To
speak of abolishing nuclear arms even as a long-range goal, even with a
fool-proof inspection system is extremely hazardous. If we surrender
our nuclear capability the Soviets will retain a conventional strength
which would place all of Eurasia at their mercy; they would, therefore,
be in a position to confront us with impossible alternatives by accepting
our own proposals.

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We should, for this reason, reject even the implication that
nuclear weapons are in a special category from modern weapons in general.
But while we cannot escape the facts imposed on us by modern technology
we should express our willingness to mitigate their horrors. The political
framework for the graduated employment of force is not created by "ban
the bomb" agitation, but by proposals which seek to define the conditions
of its use. It is, therefore, important that there occur a high-level
pronouncement which would define as precisely as possible what is under-
stood by the graduated employment of force, just as the doctrine of massive
retaliation explained the rationale for all-out conflicts.

Such a declaration might then lead to proposals which would attempt
to make these conditions bi-lateral. One fruitful field of activity might
be conventions based on the established concept of "open cities". We could
announce, for example, that we shall not bomb cities except in retaliation
and provided that they are not used as military bases. Although a
systematic effort to define the term "military base" is beyond the scope
of this article, it is important to stress one point: that because of the
luxury we enjoyed in World War II of being able to bomb the enemy without
fear of retaliation, we may have come to define the term "military" much
too widely. To be sure, almost every civilian activity bears on a war
effort in some way, but no commander attacks every enemy position. On the
contrary, he attacks where his losses will be fewest, where there exists
the most favorable relationship between his risks and his gains. We
cannot define "military base" in such a way that every production facility

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is a target. Nor is this necessary. Up to World War II, the destructive potential of individual weapons was relatively so small that huge quantities were required to achieve a decision on the battlefield. Since these could only be supplied out of current production it made sense to seek to cut them off at the source. The destructiveness of modern weapons is such, however, that the stockpile at the outbreak of a war will probably suffice for its course and, in any case, it may be more decisively employed on the battlefield than against production centers.¹¹
The concept of "open city" should, therefore, exclude primarily air-bases, troop concentrations and weapons stockpiles.

Such a proposal would have substantial advantages even if not accepted by the Soviets. It would, at a minimum, shift attention from the unrealistic and dangerous "ban the bomb," and "there is no alternative to peace" agit Propaganda to a field where constructive progress is possible. It may force the Soviets to consider alternatives to all-out war which they may embody in counter-proposals. In the process, a clearer understanding of the opposing strategies may remove at least the danger that an all-out war breaks out because of a misunderstanding of the intentions of the other side.¹²

¹¹For an elaboration of these ideas see Richard C. Leghorn, "No Need to Bomb Cities to Win Wars." U.S. News and World Report. Jan. 28, 1955.

¹²Most of these ideas have been advanced in greater length and detail elsewhere. They are outlined here only to indicate the direction our diplomacy might take.

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Many variations and alternatives of the above proposal are possible. They are intended to indicate a direction, not a program. However, both our diplomacy and our military policy will be sterile unless they are backed by an enlightened public opinion. (Theoretically the Soviets face the same problem, but their power and willingness to manipulate public opinion and to suppress it is much greater than ours). And public opinion in the U. S. is faced by two contradictory dangers: on the one hand, the residue from the period of our atomic monopoly which considers only what the damage we can inflict, not the losses we might suffer and which might therefore have little patience with intermediary solutions; on the other, the prospect that as the destructive potential of the new weapons comes to be increasingly realized there may grow up an American neutralism. Our leadership will have to steer between this Scylla and Charybdis, it must educate the people not only to our dangers, but also to our opportunities. It can take comfort from the fact that despite all the confusions and disappointments of the post-war period, the American people has at no time been unresponsive to firm presidential leadership.

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VI

The discussion up to this point has concerned primarily the impact
of our diplomacy and of our military policy on the Soviet bloc. Its
impact on our allies and the uncommitted is no less important. There
can be little doubt that our system of alliances is undergoing a crisis.
Many reasons exist for this, the Soviet peace offensive, the domestic
problems of France, the economic stagnation of Britain. But perhpps
the most fundamental cause is the absence of a unifying military doctrine.
The purpose of an alliance is two-fold: to confront the aggressor with
superior force and to give each ally a greater degree of security than
he could attain alone. But our current military doctrine coupled with
the growth of the Soviet nuclear stockpile makes both of these condtions
problematical in the eyes of our NATO partners. In an all-out thermo-
nuclear war the ground strength of our NATO partners will be almost
irrelevant; in terms of the doctrine of massive retaliation our Allies
see little military significance in their own contribution. To be sure,
their air-bases are important to our strategy, but this is no inducement
to countries who want above all to avoid the ravages of an all-out war.
We have for this reason to develop a military doctrine which makes not
only sense to us, but also to our Allies; which guarantees not only our
ultimate victory, but their own survival.

The situation is complicated by the growth of the Soviet atomic
stockpile which confronts all of Western Europe with the imminence of
nuclear destruction. This places an entirely different complexion on
the decision to enter a war or on a policy of allinaces which implies it.

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Heretofore, a nation threatened with attack would generally resist, because the worst that could happen to it, as the result of an unsuccessful war, was the loss of its national substance. But now, where most of our NATO partners consider the outbreak of a war as leading to national disintegration, our system of alliances is in dire jeopardy. It can be restored, if at all, only by two measures:

a) by a military doctrine and capability which makes clear that not every war is necessarily an all-out thermonuclear war, even in Europe;

b) by measures such as the air-defense of NATO, which reduce the sense of impotence of our Allies should thermo-nuclear war break out.

The problem with respect to the uncommitted, particularly the newly independent powers, is more complicated. Where our NATO partners suffer from a perhaps excessive awareness of the reality of power, the former colonial states seem hardly aware of its existence and nature. This is understandable. The leaders of the newly independent states achieved their positions by distinguishing themselves in the struggle with the former colonial power. But the independence movements almost without exception provided a poor preparation for an understanding of modern power relationships. Based on the dogmas of late 19th century liberalism and its pacifism, the independence movements depended for their cohesion more on ideological agreement than on an evaluation of power factors. Indeed, the claim to superior spirituality was and is the battlecry of, for example, Indian nationalism. Moreover, the bad conscience of the colonial power and their increasing weakness gave the struggle for independence more the character of a domestic debate than of a power dispute. To be

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sure, many of the leaders of the newly independent powers spent years
in jail and suffered heroically for their cause. It is not to deny the
measure of their dedication to assert that the results achieved were
out of proportion to their suffering. Empires which had held vast dominions
for hundreds of years disappeared without a shot being fired and without
making a serious effort to maintain themselves.

And if it is difficult for the leaders to retain a sense of proportion,
it is next to impossible for the mass of the people. On the whole, they
were involved in the struggle for independence only with their sympathies;
to them the disappearance of the colonial powers must seem nothing short
of miraculous. Moreover, most of the people of the newly independent states
live in pre-industrial societies. It would be difficult enough for them
to grasp the full impact of industrialism, it is too much to expect them
to understand the meaning of nuclear technology. It is, therefore, under-
standable that in former colonial areas there is an over-estimation of
what can be achieved by the power of words alone; a penchant for believing
that every problem can be solved by a proclamation. Nor is this tendency
diminished by the rewards that fall to the uncommitted in the struggle
for allegiance of two big power centers. The temptation to defer the
solution of difficult internal problems by entering the international
arena, to solidify a complicated domestic position by triumphs in the
field of foreign policy must be overwhelming.

But, however understandable, it is a dangerous trend. If this were
a tranquil period, nothing would be involved but minor irritations. But
in the present crisis, their dogmatism tends to make the newly independent

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states susceptible to Soviet "peace offensives" and their lack of appreciation of power relationships may cause them to overestimate the protective power of moral precepts. Moreover, the only visible power in the newly independent states is that of Soviet or Chinese armies on their borders. The U. S., therefore, requires a 20th century concept for "showing the flag," which will permit us to make our power felt quickly and decisively, not only to deter Soviet aggression, but to impress the uncommitted with our capacity for action. This does not mean rattling the "atom bomb." On the contrary, our show of force should be restrained and be used to underscore our moderation. What it does require is greater mobility and a weapons system that poses less absolute sanctions than thermo-nuclear war.

To be sure, this is an ungrateful and indeed an unpopular course. But we will not be able to avoid unpopularity; in the short run, all we can hope for is respect. Moreover, condescending as it may seem, we have an important educational task to perform with respect to nuclear power in the newly independent countries. Within a generation and probably in less time than that, most of these states will possess nuclear power plants and, therefore, the werewithal to manufacture nuclear weapons. And even if this should not prove the case, the Soviets may find it advantageous to increase international tensions by making available nuclear weapons, on the model of their arms deal with Egypt. But nuclear weapons in the hands of weak or irresponsible or merely ignorant governments present grave dangers. Unless the U. S. has demonstrated its ability to

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prevent their use or has at least established internationally accepted
~~ground-rules for their graduated employment, many areas of the world~~
will begin to play the traditional role of the Balkans in European politics:
the fuse which will set off a holocaust.

VII

Paul Nitze in his searching article in *Foreign Affairs* has distinguished action policy from declaratory policy -- the policy one has and the policy one announces. But there exists a level of policy even more fundamental -- the conception of alternatives which underlies any action, the standards of debate which may be all the more fundamental for never being made explicit. One of our difficulties in the nuclear period has been our tendency to treat its problems primarily as technical. But power is meaningless in the absence of a doctrine for employing it. It has always been true that the side which developed the more flexible doctrine thereby achieved a decided advantage, all other factors being equal: superior mobility and the use of artillery, a superior relationship between fire and movement furnished the basis of Napoleon's victories. The ability to understand the importance of railroads in concentrating forces was a reason for Prussia's victories in the 19th century. Similar examples would be the victories of the Roman legions over the Macedonian phalanx, of the English archers against the medieval knights (in part, of course, also a technological breakthrough). All these were victories not of superior resources, but of superior doctrine: the ability to break the framework which had come to be taken for granted and of making the victory all the more complete for facing the antagonist with contingencies which he had never even considered.

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To be sure, military doctrine will not by itself be able to deal
with the present period of revolutionary change. We need other measures:
an imaginative diplomacy, an ability to identify ourselves with the
aspirations of humanity. But we always seem in danger of focussing on
the current Soviet threat and of neglecting the alternative strategies
open to them. During the period of Soviet militancy, we were so pre-
occupied with building defensive barriers that we neglected the psycho-
logical framework which could alone make them meaningful. And now, with
the Soviet emphasis on more indirect methods of penetration, we stand
in danger of forgetting that economic aid presupposes at least a modicum
of security against foreign invasion.

The debate provoked by Mr. Dulles' statements in *Life* again emphasized our dilemma: the enormity of modern weapons makes any thought of war seem repugnant, but the refusal to run the risk of war amounts to giving the Soviets a blank check. The dilemma has been defined as the alternative between Armageddon or defeat without war. We can overcome the paralysis induced by this prospect only by creating other alternatives both in our diplomacy, as well as in our military policy. But these measures require strong nerves. We can make the graduated employment of force stick only if we leave no doubt about our readiness to face a final show-down; its effectiveness will depend on our willingness to confront Armageddon.