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After the arrival of ChatGPT and its competitors, panic ensued.
Some people predict mass unemployment, the bankruptcy of education, the
dominance of fake news, the collapse of democracy, and the end of human
history. I think these augurs have seen too many movies. If calls for a
moratorium are heeded, it would be the first time in history that a new
technological invention has been suspended or canceled.

Fear is always of the unknown and
is cured with more information. When one climbs to the top of a mountain and
approaches the edge of the cliff, one's legs shake. But if one takes one more
step forward and sees a landing just below where one can step over,
the shaking stops. The more information, the less fear.

It must be taken into
account that the power of Artificial Intelligence is enormous but limited.
Chatbots access large amounts of data accumulated on the Internet by Wikipedia,
some newspapers, patent sites and other online publications, and select the most
likely results. It is like a search engine like Google or Bing but multiplied.
The basic operation is the same as that of mobile phones when we are texting and it suggests the next word of the message. But what's the most
probable, that is, the most common, is usually also trivial,
superficial, and doubtful. In the language of the chatbot, clichés and
bureaucratic verbiage abound.

My modest experience includes
posing to ChatGPT the questions and exercises from my The Science of
Politics textbook. The answers tend to be correct when it comes to, for
example, applying data to a mathematical formula. But when the student is asked
to research an election or analyze a document, the chat response is something
like: "I'm sorry, I don't have access to current events or real-time data", "I'm
sorry, it is possible that may this term refer to a specific field or context
that is not within my knowledge or outside my training."

Chatbots know what is on the
Internet, that is, they know a lot of what is known, but they do not know what is
not known nor can they guess. They give probable answers, but they don't
understand, they don't think, and they can't discover anything that hasn't
already been discovered. They reproduce descriptions of how things are, but
they do not give causal explanations of why they are so. They are the denial of
creativity. Also, they have been restricted from contributing to anything new
that might be controversial. A typical answer may be: "... depends on a range of contextual factors, including historical legacies, political institutions, economic structures, and cultural norms."

The AI is also incapable of
reasoning from moral principles. A chatbot lacks emotions or feelings, is
unconscious, incapable of forming opinions or beliefs. It is, therefore,
useless for making decisions that imply value options or for establishing norms of
behavior. When faced with intriguing questions, it is ambidextrous: "on the one
hand, this; on the other hand, the other", "some say this, but others say
something else"…

The biggest question that has
caused so much panic is whether artificial intelligence can learn on its own
and successfully compete with natural human intelligence. But AI learns statistical
patterns from the available data, including errors and misrepresentations. For
now, "hallucinations" abound, as absurd and crazy responses are
called. It will only be able to improve if it receives feedback through
evaluations of its results, corrections, and suggestions. In such a case, humans
will maintain direction.

Handled well by humans, AI can
generate immense benefits. Allow me a little anecdote. Two weeks ago, I
participated in an international Colloquium at the National Autonomous University
of Mexico. During my presentation, there were 400 people in the room and, I was
told, 2,600 connected online from ten other universities in the country.
Through a small black and white square called a QR code, 56 questions arrived
that, in half a minute, an AI device collapsed into four thematic blocks,
making them viable to answer.

As soon as this type of practices becomes widespread, assistants, secretaries, accountants, translators, a lot of
mechanical, repetitive and servile work will gradually disappear. They will
follow the path of phone operators, bus and subway ticket clerks, gas station
employees, typists with carbon paper, travel agencies, road maps, or queues at
bank windows to get a few bills. Welcome the time and energy gained for complexity, inventiveness, discovery, and creativity.

The increase in well-being that
AI can enable is enormous. Some estimate that labor productivity in certain sectors is already multiplying. There are already tremendous advances in medicine, both
for diagnosis and for new drugs; there will be soon others to deal with the
climate crisis, the scarcity of natural resources, and food. We will learn how to
discriminate against fake news, just as we learned to distrust advertising and
electoral campaigns. And while some traditional exams may become obsolete,
nothing will be able to replace the personal exchange with students in the classroom.

John Keynes predicted that his
grandchildren would work only 15 hours a week; it was a correct calculation to
live like in his time, but we have continued working many hours to live much
better. When the computers came out, some asked: "do you work less now?" The
answer was: no, I work the same hours, but the result is superior. The same
will happen with Artificial Intelligence.In Spanish and Catalan in La Vanguardia: CLICK

Guest blogger and Visiting Fellow in the Department of Media and Communication at LSE, Dr Grace Yuehan Wang writes about ASEAN's AI Governance guide as it diverges from EU rules, emphasising innovation and cultural sensitivity and discusses the challenges in balancing regional nuances with global AI governance standards. _______________________________________________   ASEAN’s Approach to AI Governance– … Continued

In 1851, the United Kingdom astounded the world with the Great Exhibition—an iconic showcase of innovation, industry, and cultural exchange. Dr Anton Howes of The Entrepreneurs Network has made a case showing how, in the 21st century, a modern-day Great Exhibition has the potential to reaffirm Britain's commitment to new technology and solidify its position as a global leader. By hosting such an event, the UK can harness its strengths, inspire innovation, attract investment, and foster international collaboration.A modern Great Exhibition would serve as a catalyst for innovation, igniting the imaginations of entrepreneurs, scientists, and inventors from across the globe. By providing a platform for showcasing cutting-edge technologies and ideas, the UK can inspire a new wave of innovation and creativity. This exhibition could highlight the country's expertise in areas such as artificial intelligence, biotechnology, renewable energy, and advanced manufacturing, encouraging breakthroughs and fostering collaboration between academia, industry, and startups.Hosting a Great Exhibition would enable the UK to position itself as a global leader in new technology. By featuring groundbreaking inventions, research, and development, the UK can demonstrate its commitment to pushing the boundaries of progress. This exhibition could emphasize the UK's prowess in emerging fields, allowing the world to witness firsthand the nation's capacity to embrace technological advancements and drive positive change. As The Entrepreneurs Network puts it:"Visitors would see drone deliveries in action, take rides in driverless cars, actually use the latest in virtual reality technology, play with prototype augmented reality devices, and see organ tissue and metals and electronics being 3D-printed in front of them. They would see industrial manufacturing robots in action, have a taste of lab-grown meat at the food stalls, meet cloned animals brought back from extinction, and themselves perform feats of extraordinary strength wearing the exoskeletons that are already in use in factories and warehouses. Visitors would naturally get to meet the inventors and scientists and engineers who developed it all, too. They would browse the latest in fashion, art, and architecture, seeing them alongside historical examples. And the whole thing would be powered using only the cutting edge of clean energy technology, much like how the great new Corliss Engine drove the 1876 Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia, or how Westinghouse's alternating current powered the 1893 Chicago World's Fair. Visitors might also be able to view air CO2 removal machines in action."A modern Great Exhibition would be a magnet for international investors seeking opportunities in the UK's vibrant technology sector. By showcasing the country's commitment to innovation, the exhibition would demonstrate the potential for lucrative partnerships and investments. It would attract the attention of venture capitalists, industry leaders, and entrepreneurs, fostering economic growth and creating job opportunities. Additionally, by highlighting the UK's thriving research institutions and vibrant startup ecosystem, the exhibition could draw global talent, promoting knowledge transfer and enriching the nation's pool of skilled professionals.A Great Exhibition would provide a unique platform for international collaboration, fostering partnerships between the UK and nations around the world. By inviting countries to showcase their technological advancements, the exhibition would encourage knowledge exchange, cross-cultural learning, and collaboration on global challenges. This shared experience could create lasting networks and partnerships, promoting diplomacy and cooperation across borders.Hosting a Great Exhibition would generate a sense of national pride and confidence in the UK's capabilities. It would remind the world of the nation's rich history of technological progress and innovation, while also signaling a bold vision for the future. By celebrating its achievements, the UK can inspire a renewed sense of purpose and confidence in its ability to shape a prosperous and sustainable future.There is no doubt that a modern Great Exhibition holds immense potential for the United Kingdom. By showcasing its commitment to new technology, the UK can stimulate innovation, attract investment and talent, foster international collaboration, and boost national pride. This exhibition would serve as a testament to the nation's determination to embrace progress, shaping a future where innovation and technological advancement drive economic growth and societal well-being. The time has come for the UK to once again captivate the world's attention by hosting a Great Exhibition that reaffirms its status as a global leader at the forefront of the technological frontier.

 The Year Ahead conference, which started before the CDSN came into existence, has become a flagship event for both the Carleton research center, Centre for Security, Intelligence, and Defence Studies, and the CDSN.  It provides NPSIA-based scholars with a chance to interact with experts we bring to town and folks from in and around government who attend the event.  We consult our partners in government to see what is on their radar screen for the next year, and try to have panels that are relevant to them.  This year, we had panels on:learning from Ukraine's successes and Russia's aggressive failuresthe state of Canadian civil-military relationsxenophobia and national security, organized by our collaborator Women of Colour Advancing Peace and Security.We also had a fourth session that was a little different.  We started with a Q&A between myself and Colonel Cathy Blue, our visiting Defence Fellow.  An Air Force officer, she is spending the year with us, auditing a few classes, working on a research project, advising us, providing us with a military point of view, engaging the students, and continuing her professional military education program that comes out of the Canadian Forces College.  She has been an incredible asset this year, a great sounding board.  After that, we launched the CDSN Podcast Network!  We decided to build our own network so that we could provide opportunities to new podcasts across the country to be heard.  In addition to BattleRhythm, the CDSN's podcast for the past 3.5 years and Conseils de Sécurité, our partnered podcast with RAS/NAS en français, we will have SecurityScape and NATO Field Report.  SecurityScape is a podcast by graduate students at Calgary's Centre for Military, Security, and Strategic Studies, a partner of the CDSN.  They have had one season thus far, and they will drop six episodes of season two in 2023.  NATO Field Report will be a completely new podcast, run by the students and professions involved in the NATO Field School, which brings students to Vancouver for classwork and then onto Europe to various NATO facilities and headquarters.  They will be be dropping episodes episodically--as the field school approaches and then have interviews and reports during the field school's trips to Brussels, Latvia, and wherever else they go.  That we include a podcast that is a different model from the original ones helps to open our imagination for future additions to our network.Along the way, we fixed a problem with had with our Apple feed. While we have consistently been producing episodes of BattleRhythm, those that relied on our Apple field were not getting automatic downloads of episodes.  Our stuff has always been available at the other outlets (Soundcloud, Spotify, Stitcher, etc.), but now we fixed this problem.  Folks just have to go to the Apple podcast app and search for CDSN and subscribe to get all of our podcasts.  At the conference, we did a Q&A with the producers and hosts of the various podcasts.  We are very excited about all of this.  If you have an idea for a podcast on defense/security broadly defined, let us know, as we are looking to connect and amplify--the basic CDSN mission.Nina TannenwaldBack to the panels, we had Brown University Professor Nina Tannenwald, who discussed the nuclear weapon issues related to the war, retired LGen Mike Day who delineated the lessons from the war itself, and, via zoom, U of Texas Professor Sheena Greitens, who analyzed China's responses to the conflict.  It was a fascinating discussion.  I moderated the Civil-Military Relations panel where Calgary Prof. Jean-Christophe Boucher and Charlotte Duval-Lantoine of Women in Defence and Security presented a survey they (and me and Lynne Gouliquer) are working on whether the various scandals are affecting Canadians' trust in the military, Andrea Lane of Defence Research and Development Canada presented the challenges posed to the Canadian Armed Forces by political polarization, and Alexandra Richards of Simon Fraser U. analyzed differences among the various generations and their attitudes.  The final panel on Redefining National Security, organized by WCAPS-C, included Dr. Nadia Abu-Zahra of both Carleton and U of Ottawa, Azeezah Kanji of the Noor Cultural Centre, Jillian Sunderland and Aaron Francis of U of Toronto.  They presented critiques of the defence and security apparatus and community, especially the treatment of historically excluded communities.We streamed the event, and it will appear on our youtube channels (CDSN and CSIDS) once we get things cleaned up. We will also be circulating a report and related policy notes in January.I am very grateful for Team CDSN, especially Melissa Jennings, Sherry Laplante, Cathy Blue, Carelove Doreus, Racheal Wallace, Robyn Lalecheur, David Le, Duncan Herd, and Daniel Kholodar, and to the presenters and moderators.  It was great meeting both presenters and audience members, as the event is also a great networking opportunity.  We will do a "hot wash" to figure out what worked best and what could use improvement.  We are open to feedback so if you have suggestions, let us know.And, yes, we do this stuff so we can eat food and hang out.  Indeed it was.I love Charlotte's expression as she realizesthat I am taking a mid-meal pic

The next issue of "Constellations" (vol. 40, no. 4) features articles on The Institute for Social Research (Frankfurt am Main) and the Frankfurt School:"The Institute for Social Research at 100: Continuity and Transformation"Eleven articles are now available online:* Axel Honneth - "The Institute for Social Research on its 100th birthday. A former director's perspective"Excerpt: "There are deeper, less superficial reasons for being skeptical today with regard to the potential of this tradition to guide us in our social–theoretical attempts to comprehend the present situation in a fruitful way, both philosophically sound and empirically productive. In the following, I want to discuss three challenges resulting from structural changes in our social and intellectual environment that make it more and more difficult to preview a fruitful, productive, and energizing future for Critical Theory in its traditional form. These three challenges stem from (1) the growing awareness of the endurance of the colonial past of Western societies, (2) the unmistakable importance of the ecological question, and, finally, (3) the growing uncertainties about the exact format and arrangement of interdisciplinary research."* Rainer Forst: "The rational critique of social unreason. On critical theory in the Frankfurt tradition"  [open access]Excerpt: "In my view, then, critical theory must be reconfigured as a critique of relations of justification. This calls, on the one hand, for a critical social scientific analysis of social and political relations of domination that includes cultural and, not least, economic structures and relationships. In this regard, two dimensions of domination must be distinguished: subjugation to unjustifiable norms and institutions, and subjugation to conditions that prevent practices of justification. Such critical analysis must be combined with a discourse-theoretical, genealogical critique of the justifications and justification narratives that confer legitimacy on unjustifiable relations. On the other hand, we must pose the constructive question of how a "basic structure of justification" can be conceived as a requirement of fundamental justice and be realized in social practice - not as an ideal or a model to be imposed on societies, but as a normative order to be developed autonomously. Essentially, a theory we call critical ought to be based on the principle of criticism itself. Its medium is reason striving for practices of autonomous justification among equals."* Alessandro Ferrara - "If Foucault, why not Rawls? On enlarging the critical tent"Excerpt: "It is undeniably among the aims of critical theory to envisage a society in which diversity can exist in the absence of oppression. Now, it's all too easy to merely invoke the ideal of equals living together with their diversity (ethnic, ethical, religious, cultural, or of gender, lifestyle, sexual preference) and without oppression. Deconstructionists, post-colonial theorists, and theorists of recognition often emphatically do so. However, when it comes to specifying concretely which institutions should form the basic structure of such a society, how they should relate to one other, what rights and liberties (and how limited and balanced) citizens should have, and what democratic legitimacy means, it is a whole different story.On the nuts and bolts of an oppression-free society the entire first generation had little to offer, to say nothing of the cauldron of the "verwaltete Welt" (Adorno). Habermas has quite a lot to say, in Between Facts and Norms and in his exchange with Rawls. Among the younger critical theorists who long for reviving the earlier program of the Frankfurt School, few even attempt to say anything. This is the problem, instead, on which [John Rawls's] Political Liberalism, not A Theory of Justice, offers an elaborate theory unmatched by any other to date (....) Critical theory can only gain from enlarging its tent to include also some of Rawls's concepts - reasonability, civility, reciprocity - and from launching empirical research on the conditions of the possibility for them to maintain traction in the challenging decades ahead of us."* Maeve Cooke - "Social theory as critical theory: Horkheimer's program and its relevance today"Excerpt: "Since formalist models of politics abstain from critique of the prevailing deep-seated ethical-existential values and from recommendation of alternatives, they are conducive toward unquestioning acceptance of the ethical-existential values undergirding the established political procedures, facilitating the reproduction of the political status quo. Against this, I take the view that contemporary critical theory must engage with ethical-existential questions, not least if it is to meet the challenges posed by our disastrous ecological situation. This requires it, in turn, to engage with the question of ethical-existential validity. Given the challenge of value pluralism, therefore, a key task for contemporary critical theory is to elaborate a conception of ethical validity that is at once universalist and attentive to the plurality of ethical values and worldviews."* Samuel Moyn - "Critical theory's generational predicament" [Link]Excerpt: "(....) it seems clear that the principal cause of the lack of interest in critical theory for younger generations - the lack of zeal to perpetuate or even study it - is that the votaries of the tradition conformed unreflectively to "the end of history" in the 1990s. They had essentially nothing to say about American unipolarity and the militarism that has so clearly accompanied it. Worse, for one-time Marxists, they never formulated an analysis or critique of economic neoliberalism. Yet these are the causes at the center of the activism and theorizing of many who lived through the past decade and forging a critical perspective on their times."* Martin Saar - "Rethinking Critique and Theory" [open access]Excerpt: "Benjamin's partisanship for the perspective of the defeated in historiography, Adorno's and Horkheimer's insistence on the deep ambivalence of enlightenment ideals, and Marcuse's clear-sighted perception of the central role of the excluded and marginalized, whom the capitalist system cannot even properly exploit, are starting points for a radical self-critique of the Western liberation movements, which have yet to admit their own entanglement in domination elsewhere and thus should actually make way for an even more radical, decentered enlightenment and liberation."* Frank I. Michelman - "Totality, morality, and social philosophy"Excerpt: "We thus see the Institute for Social Research, at a signal moment in its early history, posing for itself the dialectic of human individual agency and environing social totality - with neither element placed at the other's disposal - as a main topic for pursuit by social philosophy and its connected program of social research. It is by pursuit of that topic that the Institute's engagements over the decades of my own academic career have figured, importantly for me, in my work (not generally classified as "Frankfurt School") on liberal constitutional theory. Most pointedly it has done so in undertakings by Jürgen Habermas to explicate a moral point of view from which citizens in a political society encounter one another as each a free and equal person commanding full respect as such - but to explicate that morality, as I have sought to explain, not as a view "that philosophy independently discovers," but rather as one that lies embedded in a historically particular social totality."* Cristina Lafont - "The return of the critique of ideologies" [open access]Excerpt: "(....) I shall focus on just one issue: the recent revival in critiques of ideology. In my view, this type of critique is an important task of critical theory and remains one of its most significant legacies. Yet, if one focuses on the work of critical theorists over the past decades, this statement is far from obvious. In fact, the second generation of the Frankfurt school,most notably Habermas in his Theory of Communicative Action, explicitly rejects ideology critique as obsolete in the context of contemporary societies. Even though in the 1960s and 1970s, he had embraced the classicalMarxist approach to ideology critique, he ultimately rejected it. It was the explicit attempt to rebut objections that had plagued this approach that brought about the so-called "democratic turn" of critical theory characteristic of Habermas's work from the 1980s onward and in which the critique of ideologies no longer plays a role."* Christopher F. Zurn -  "We're not special: Congratulations!"Excerpt: "It is fine, then, to get right to work on current social movements - Occupy Wall Street and other Square movements, Black Lives Matter, the Sunrise and Third Act movements, MeToo, the Arab Spring, or the Mahsa Amini protests - and on pressing contemporary social problems - climate change and human adaptation, deepening material inequality, the erosion of constitutional democracy, artificial intelligence and human de-skilling, global migration and refugee waves, the transformation of the Westphalian international order, the resilience and resurgence of patriarchy, and so on - without worrying how to fit these movements and problems into the architectonic of Dialectic of Enlightenment or Theory of Communicative Action. To be sure, we need not ignore the conceptual resources and insights of our tradition when they are relevant and enlightening. But we need to take interdisciplinarity seriously by looking to the much broader currents of critical thought on social formations and the changing horizons of human emancipation."* Peter E. Gordon - "The animating impulses of critical theory"Excerpt: "For some readers, this generational shift - between the first and second generations of critical theory - is overdramatized into a stark contrast between totalizing negativism and restorationist optimism, both of which seem to hover at too great an altitude above social reality. Needless to say, this contrast does an injustice to both parties. Adorno and Horkheimer are far more committed to reason's self-reflective possibilities, while Habermas remains far more attentive to reason's systemic distortion. They converge at a point of dialectical mediation, whereas neither pure negativism nor pure idealism would serve as a viable groundwork for critical theory. In what follows I wish to suggest that Horkheimer's original model of social philosophy, as animated by a rational but materialist ideal of emancipation, still has enduring merit."* William E. Scheuerman - "Horkheimer's unrealized vision"Excerpt: "Horkheimer's idea of a mutually constructive exchange between philosophy and critical social science has too often been rare and ephemeral. And this should worry us if you believe, as this author does, that Horkheimer was right to see such an exchange as indispensable to critical theory. (....) Only in 1962 did Habermas, in an appropriately interdisciplinary study that relied heavily on research from legal scholars, political scientists, and sociologists, begin to revitalize Frankfurt critical theory. Not only did his landmark Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere take the social sciences seriously, but its young author seems to have implicitly grasped that critical theory could only flourish on the basis of an authentically cooperative, mutually beneficial relationship between philosophy and the social sciences. Horkheimer's original interdisciplinary vision clearly inspired the young Habermas. When properly reconstructed, it should inspire us today as well."

After more than three decades of conflict and several bloody wars, the Republic of Azerbaijan recaptured the Armenian-inhabited enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh on September 28. Azerbaijan's lightning victory followed a nine-month blockade of the Lachin Corridor, the only link between the Karabakh region to mainland Armenia, effectively depriving the roughly 120,000 Karabakh Armenians who lived there of food and other necessities.Following Azerbaijan's victory, there was a mass exodus of Armenians from Karabakh and the creation of a severe humanitarian crisis that reminded some of the Armenians' flight from the Ottoman Empire during 1915-16 when as many as a million people died or were killed — considered a genocide by Armenians and part of World War I's tragic collateral damage by the Turks.Many factors contributed to Azerbaijan's final victory in its long-simmering conflict with Armenia over Nagorno-Karabakh. Some factors are rooted in the South Caucasus' complex history as part of the Iranian state until 1813, followed by the Russian and Soviet empires, the USSR's nationalities policies and its practice of using various ethnic groups as levers of influence, and finally the messy breakup of the USSR beginning in 1988. Other factors relate to the disparity in Armenia's and Azerbaijan's size, population, and resources. Unlike Armenia, which has few natural resources, Azerbaijan is an energy-rich country and thus capable of spending large sums on arms.Additional factors include Armenia's persistent internal political differences on the country's foreign policy orientation, as well as rivalries and disagreements between Armenian and Karabakh political elites.Since gaining independence after the Soviet collapse, Armenia has mostly depended on Russian support. But largely due to the 20-month-old war in Ukraine, Moscow's priorities have changed. Both Turkey and Azerbaijan became more important for Moscow, and its failure to adequately support Armenia, particularly by deploying its peacekeeping force to dismantle the blockade, sealed last month's outcome.Unfortunately for Armenia, Azerbaijan also became more important for the West in light of the Ukraine war. This meant that neither Europe nor the United States was willing to take major risks to restrain Baku.Lastly, international and regional geopolitical rivalries and Armenia's vulnerable geopolitical position contributed to its ultimate defeat. Among these factors were the larger Russia-West rivalry for control of Eurasia and Washington's 30-year-old efforts to contain and isolate Iran by denying Tehran any role in the emerging post-Cold War economic and security structures of the Southern Caucasus, most importantly in the construction of pipelines to transport oil and gas from Azerbaijan, the Caspian Sea, and Central Asia to Western markets.To accomplish this aim, the U.S. and Europe effectively assigned a leading role to Turkey in the Caucasus and Central Asia both as a model to be emulated by the Central Asian states and as the West's major regional partner. Perhaps, at the time, Armenia should have seen the writing on the wall and aligned itself more closely with the West while seeking some form of accommodation with Turkey. But given Armenians' history with the Ottomans and Turkey, this was not easy to do, and Yerevan chose to align itself more closely to Russia instead.Armenia did, in fact, retain ties with the West and even joined NATO's Partnership for Peace program. Yet, despite religious and cultural bonds with the West and a politically active Diaspora community, particularly in France and the U.S., Yerevan's closer ties to Moscow resulted in a lingering Western distrust. And, as time went on, the lure of Azerbaijan's energy resources became too strong for the West to resist.Surrounded by Turkey and Azerbaijan, Armenia saw Iran with which it built a constructive relationship after independence, as a potential counterweight to Azerbaijan. But Iran, fearful of antagonizing its own Azeri population concentrated in the northwestern part of the country and concerned about antagonizing a fellow Muslim and mostly Shi'a country, was limited in its response. At the same time, Moscow worked to enhance Armenia's dependence on Russia, making it more difficult for Yerevan to develop closer economic and energy ties with Tehran. In short, U.S. containment of Iran and Russia's desire to control Armenia deprived Yerevan of alternative sources of support.The regional involvement of Israel, the Middle East's most important military power and a sworn enemy of the Islamic Republic, has further complicated matters. As a minority state in the Muslim world that was itself born in part as a result of the Nazi genocide against the Jews in Europe, Israel should theoretically have felt a natural affinity for Armenia. But a desire to expand its diplomatic relations with Muslim states (long before the 2020 Abraham Accords), the lure of energy resources and markets, and its hostility toward Iran have pulled Israel ever closer to Azerbaijan.Over time, Israel became a key supplier of weapons for Baku, providing it with as much as 69 percent of its total arms imports, including some of its most advanced weapons systems, between 2016 and 2020, a trend that intensified significantly as Azerbaijan prepared its offensive to take Karabakh. Moreover, Baku's principal patron and mentor, Turkey, which has its own regional ambitions, supplied additional weaponry and assistance, even to the extent of reportedly providing Syrian mercenaries for Baku to fight in Karabakh during the 2020 Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict.Since Ottoman times, Turkey has coveted what is now the Republic of Azerbaijan, as well as the Iranian province of Azerbaijan. Pan-Turkist and neo-Ottoman forces, with which President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan is identified, have long wanted to create a land bridge between, first, Turkey and Azerbaijan, and subsequently through northern Iran to Central Asia. In this way, Turkey hopes to realize a direct land route to link all Turkic peoples.Azerbaijan's conquest of Karabakh marks the first step towards this goal. Now, Turkey is insisting on the creation of a land corridor between Azerbaijan and Nakhicevan, an Azerbaijani exclave bounded by Armenia, Iran and Turkey. This would amount to the incorporation of what the Armenians call Syunik and the Azerbaijanis call Zangezur into Azerbaijan, thus bypassing Iran. In a demonstration of Turkey's aims, Erdoğan himself visited Nakhichevan for a meeting with Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev on September 25, two weeks before Baku's Karabakh offensive, and talked about the opening of the so-called Zangezur Corridor.Iran is understandably concerned by all of these developments. While relations between Baku and Tehran have oscillated between warm and cold since Azerbaijan's independence, they have grown more tense in recent years, particularly as Israel became increasingly critical to Baku's military buildup, possibly in exchange for oil and reportedly also for access to Iran for Israeli intelligence operations. Iran has long been concerned that Azerbaijan may serve as a launch pad for an Israeli, U.S., or joint attack on its territory.As for Turkey's ambitions, it should be noted that the Nakhicavan exclave lies only 90 miles from Tabriz, the capital of Iranian Azerbaijan, which Baku claims is occupied territory it refers to as Southern Azerbaijan. Erdogan appears to share that sentiment; in 2020, his recitation of a poem that claimed that Iran had usurped the region provoked protests in Tehran.Iran has said clearly that it opposes any other territorial changes in the region, especially the creation of a corridor that would eliminate its common border with Armenia. In early October, Iran's president, Ayatollah Ebrahim Raisi, expressed this view to Armenian and Azerbaijani officials who met with him. Earlier, members of parliament had warned that Iran would not tolerate any changes to its border with Armenia, while an article that appeared in Tehran's influential "Iran Diplomacy" even suggested that Iran unilaterally create a 20-mile buffer zone within Karabakh, Nakhichevan, and Syunik in order to prevent any incursions into Iranian territory. A year ago, Iran held large-scale military exercises along its Azerbaijani border, signaling its determination to resist further territorial changes to its detriment.Against this background, the steady rapprochement between Turkey and Israel since last year's exchange of ambassadors — Erdogan was reportedly preparing to host Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu later this month or in November before the latest Gaza war broke out last weekend – has done little to calm Tehran's concerns. Earlier this year, 30-plus members of Israel's Knesset also called for international support for "the national aspirations of the peoples of South Azerbaijan."Thus, the latest Caucasus conflict is not finished, and larger clashes may lie ahead, especially if Azerbaijan pursues its irredentist claims against Iran with the backing of Turkey and Israel. In the last few days, there have been reports that Baku and Tehran are now trying to normalize bilateral relations and even discuss opening a new transit route through Iran to Nakhicevan, which could alleviate some of Tehran's key concerns. However, the deep-rooted sources of tension between Iran and Azerbaijan are unlikely to be quickly resolved, and thus the risk of possible conflict remains high, especially if Iran's rivals pressure Baku.

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Ned
Lebow on Drivers of War, Cultural Theory, and IR of Foxes and Hedgehogs









Drawing
on classical political theories, International Relations is dominated by
theories that presuppose interests or fear as dominant drivers for foreign
policy. Richard Ned Lebow looks further back into the history of ideas to conjure up a
more varied set of drives that underpin political action. In this Talk, Lebow, among others, elaborates on
the underpinnings of political action, discusses how war drives innovations in
IR theorizing in the 20th century, and likens himself to a fox,
rather than a hedgehog.





Print version of this Talk (pdf)








What
is, according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current IR?
What is your position or answer to this challenge / in this debate?







Well, the big challenge in international politics is always
how do we keep from destroying one another and that's the negative question.
But it is mirrored by a positive question which is, how do we build community
and tolerance and peace? And that's not exactly the flip side, but that's
always been the big question in IR. And part of that, I think, is how we learn
to manage threatening change. Because in my perspective, that's the driving
force of conflict: ultimately, both World Wars can be attributed to
modernization and its destabilizing consequences. That is also the reason why
it is a falsehood to base theory on that little select slice of history during
the World Wars, extrapolate it, and try to think its universal. Yet that is
what IR theory does: so many theorists, and so many of the people you recently
interviewed, are guilty of doing that. So that's the big question and
certainly, that's what drove me to study IR in the hope that I could make some
small contribution to figuring out some of the answers or partial answers to
these questions.







If we turn to what the central debate should be in
International Theory, well, I would frame this in two parts: the first should
be 'what are the different ways in which we can conceive of international
theory and how, by all of us pursuing it the way we feel comfortable with, we
can enrich the field without throwing bric-a-brac at each other and find ways
of learning from each other?'







A few years ago, I edited a book with Mark Lichbach (Theory and Evidence in Comparative Politics
and International Relations) as a rejoinder to King, Keohane and Verba's
book, which we found deeply offensive. It has the narrowest framework and then
they base their understanding on the Vienna school yet they seem to have forgotten
that Hempel and Popper would disavow the positions that King, Keohane and Verba
(KKV) are anchoring themselves in as epistemologically primitive. And the very
examples they give to illustrate 'good science'—Alvarez and his groupaddressing the problem of dinosaur extinction—they fail to see that what
these people did was in fact code on the dependent variable, which is the big
no-no for KKV! And the reason why Alvarez et al were taken seriously, was not because they went through the order
of research that KKV promoted, but rather because they came up with an
explanation for a phenomenon that people have long known about—yet explanations
don't figure at all in KKV's take; they had no interest in mechanisms, it was
all narrow correlations. It's absurd! So we edited the book, and we invited
people who represented different perspectives, but all of whom had evidence and
struggled to make sense of the evidence, to talk to one another and to look at
the problems they themselves find in their positions and how one could learn
broadly from considering this. That's the kind of debate that seems to me is a
useful one. Not who is right or wrong, but how can we learn collectively. And
secondly, I think maybe we need fewer debates, and more good research.











How did you arrive
at where you currently are in your thinking about IR?







I suppose it's a combination of people, books, and events, and
being a dog that constantly gnaws on bones and works it through. Very clearly the
Second World War and the Cold War were what brought me to the study of IR. I'm sure
in their absence, considering the counterfactual, I would have gone into Astrophysics,
which was the other field that really interested me.







I think the first concrete influence was as an undergraduate
and then as a graduate, being struck by certain individuals whose minds seemed
to sparkle; and I admired them for that and they became role models. And I
would make myself, intellectually, a little Hans Morgenthau, a little Karl
Deutsch; see the world through their eyes, and play with it. I never really wanted
to make myself into them, but rather to benefit by seeing what the world was
like when seen through their eyes. So in this sense, let me go back and draw on
Boswell, Hughes, and Mill for my answer. They all conceived of identity as
something that's a process of self-fashioning in which we mix and match the
characteristics that we observe in other people. And the purpose of society is
to throw up these role models and provide interaction with them so that we can
constantly be engaging in self-fashioning. And ultimately, we create something
that's novel that other people want to emulate or reject, as the case may be.
And I think that mixing and matching, and ultimately creating a synthesis of my
own, I developed my own approach to things.







The second element of this is to pick problems that engage
me, and stick with them. My first book in IR was about international crises and
I worked on this, it must have been 8, possibly even 9 years. I started out initially
convinced that deterrence theory made sense but wouldn't fit the historical evidence. Then one day, while
playing around, I realized the theory was wrong and by reversing it, I could
understand why it didn't work and see there were very different dynamics at
play. So working on a problem constantly and going back and forth between
theory and empirical findings, you gradually develop your own sense of the
field.







It also helps, over the course of an intellectual lifetime, to
work on different kinds of problems: I've just finished a book on the politics
and ethics of identity; I finished a manuscript up for review on the nature of
causation and different takes on cause; and the previous two books were on
counterfactuals and the origins of war. And I learned something theoretically
and methodologically by throwing myself into these problems and also, in some
cases, by going beyond what one would normally consider the domain of IR to look
for answers. I've often done philosophy and literature in the identity book. I
also go to musical texts: I have a reading of the Mozart Da Ponte Operas as a deliberate
thought experiment to test out ancient regime
and enlightenment identities under varying circumstances to expose what's wrong
with them and to work toward a better approach of Così fantutte. And I
read the music, not only the libretti,
to get at an answer. Of course, when you've been doing it a long time, it keeps
you alive and alert when you look at something new. I'm just finishing my 46th
year of University teaching. It's a long time!







Thirdly, there were a few pivotal books. I read George
Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World in the early 50s. Both
of those were very powerful books. I also read in about 1950 - Life Magazine
produced a large volume on WWII and it had fabulous photographs and of course
Life was famous, Robert Capa's photographs, and
the text by John Dos Passos. A big big book that I read and re-read and that
was a powerful influence on me. I'd say the Diary of Anne Frank, when it came
out, which was not all that dissimilar but had a different ending from my own
war experience, and then in high school I read, or struggled to read—I don't
think I understood it—Ideology and Utopia
(full text here) by Karl
Mannheim, and then I read Politics among
Nations and the Twenty Year's Crisis.
And both those books made enormous sense to me at the time. But I think the
book that over the course of my lifetime has had the most influence on me of
anything is Thucydides' The History of
the Peloponnesian War (read full text here).











What would a
student need to become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global
way?







I am tempted to give you a flippant answer that an expert is
somebody from out of town; what used to be with slides would now be with a PowerPoint
presentation. I think frankly you need to do two things: you need to be
analytically sophisticated and original on the one hand, but to do it well, you
have to have an empirical base. There has to be some problem or set of problems
that you've rolled up your sleeves, looked at the data, talk to the people who
are on the ground doing these things, and you need to go back and forth between
that empirical knowledge and conceptual one. That's success as a social scientist. 







And traditionally, there's
always been another key. You must have one foot in society in which you belong
and another foot outside so you can do it as an outsider as well as an insider.
That's terribly important. I think, in this sense, that Americans are more
parochial than other people. They are good insiders but they are not very good
outsiders and they just don't understand the rest of the world and when you
read what they write about the rest of the world, you wonder what planet they
are living on. If you don't see the rest of the world, you can't look at the
America from another perspective. It's like people who take hegemony seriously;
it's like believing in Santa Claus, except Santa Claus is benign. To gain a
deep experience of the world in itself is a pre-requisite. Do a year abroad in
some other culture. Learn a language. Have a relationship with someone from a
different culture—you begin to learn the languages and all the rest will come.
That's the way to start.











You are
most famous to most people for your Cultural
Theory of International Relations (2008). What does it comprise and can you
say something about its classical roots?







I return to classical theory of conflict and cooperation
because I find that in modern theory, all drives of human action have been
reduced to appetite, and reason to mere instrumentality. The Greeks, by
contrast, believed there were several fundamental drives—drives that affected
politics—and while these included appetite, they weren't just appetite. Reason was more than instrumentality; it also had
the goal of understanding what led to a happy life; then, next to reason and
appetite, the third drive was spirit or self-esteem (the Greek thumos), which is very different and
often opposed to appetite. It is about winning the approbation of others to
feel good about ourselves. The difference between honor and standing—two
variants of self-esteem—is that honor is status achieved within a fixed set of
rules, while standing is whenever you achieve status by whatever means.







Now most existing IR theories are either only built on
appetites—as liberalism and Marxism—or fear. And for the Greeks fear is not a
human drive but a powerful emotion which can become a motive. And when reason
loses control over either appetite or spirit, people begin to worry about their
own ability to satisfy their appetites, their spirit, or even protect
themselves physically. That's when fear becomes a powerful motive. Realism is
of course the paradigm developed around fear. I differ in that my theory
recognizes multiple motives, that are active to varying degrees at different
times. They don't blend the way a solution does in chemistry, but they retain
their own characteristics, even if jumbled together. So my theory expects to
see quite diverse and often conflicting behavior, whereas other theories only
pay attention to state behavior that seems to support their theory, and feel
the need to explain away other behavior inconsistent with their theory. I revel
in these variations. Second, I vary in describing what derives from these
motives as (Weberian) ideal types—which means, something you don't encounter in
the real world, but rather, an abstraction, a fictional or analytical
description, that helps to make sense of the real world but never maps onto it
exactly. So, a fear-based world gives you a very nice description of a
foundation of anarchy. But of course this is an ideal-type world. Fear is only
one motive. You have go to a place where civil order has broken down, like
Somalia or the trenches in WWII, to see fear-based models compete.







Starting from these three motives and the emotion of fear, I
argue that each of these generates a very different logic of cooperation,
conflict and risk-taking; and each is associated with a different kind of
hierarchy. And all of them except fear rely on a different principle of
justice. Just to give an example: for actors—whether individuals or
states—driven by self-esteem, they tend to be risk prone (because honor has to
be won by successfully overcoming ordeals and challenges); it leads to a
conflictual logic because you are competing with others for honor; and it can
be rule-based (although the rules can brake down and move into fear); and the
principle is one of fairness, in contrast to interest or appetite which has a
principle of equality. The hierarchy is one of clientelism, where people honor
those at the top, which, in return, provides practical benefits for those on
the bottom. The Greeks called this hegemonia;
the Chinese had a similar system.







But because any actual system is not an ideal type, we have
to figure out what that mixture is and we can begin to understand foreign
policies. And I try to give numerous examples in the book. And the big turning
point, I argue, is modernity, where it becomes more difficult to untangle the
motives and their discourses. Because in modernity both Rousseau and Adam Smith
try to understand why we want material things, so the two become connected. You
could argue that even in Egyptian times they were connected, in the pyramids,
which are nothing if not erections of self-esteem. But it becomes more
difficult and so, rather than saying, using literary texts, artistic works and
political speeches as a way of determining the relationship, I approached the
problem differently with the examples of the World Wars, the Cold War, and the
Anglo-American Invasion of Iraq. I said let's run a test of seeing how
carefully we can explain the origins and the dynamics of these conflicts on the
basis of interest, on the basis of fear, on the basis of self-esteem. And I
think that's methodologically defensible.



Now the interesting point is that the honor or self-esteem
explanation is gone completely from modern IR explanations but does at least
just a good a job—if not better—at explaining these conflicts I mention above. There is an important sense—and this is my latest book—in which going to war was the dominant way to get recognized as a great power, and I feel that the example of the war in Iraq illustrates that that principle is on the retreat.







I obviously use Greek thinking as a source here of—again, I
wouldn't use the word knowledge—but as a source of insight into human nature
and the recurring problems regardless of society. Some of the great writers and
thinkers cannot be surpassed as sources of knowledge that we as social
scientists are shadows on the cave by comparison. And I find the Greeks
particularly interesting for several reasons. One, they had a richer
understanding of the psyche that moderns who have adduced everything to appetite
and reason to a mere instrumentality, this is, to me, an incredibly narrow,
crude way of thinking of the human mind. And, for whatever reason, they were
gifted with tragedians who pierced to the core of things. So I find them as a
source of inspiration but it's by no way limited to the Greeks. You can pick
great authors from any culture, in any century, and read them and learn a lot.











How
should we understand your cultural theory of international relations in
relation to the 'big' paradigms?







My theory is constructivist, at every level. I can go even further and claim that my theory is
the only constructivist theory.
Alexander Wendt is not a constructivist. If anything, he's a structural
liberal. It did have preexisting identities and has a teleology as he believes
a Kantian world is inevitable— that's quite a statement to make! And I hope
he's right. On the other hand, I define constructivists in a broader way. Most
constructivists start with identities and identities are certainly an important
feature of my work, but my theory rests on a different premise, and that is the
notion of there being certain core values which are germane to politics, and
they vary in relative importance from society to society, and they find
expression in different ways. So it is constructivist, I think, in the Weberian
sense: we have to understand from within the culture what makes things
meaningful. And, in that sense, you could bring in the notion of
inter-subjective reality, but I go beyond it, because other values are always
present in this mix and therefore there's behavior that appears contradictory
that is often misunderstood if you apply the wrong lens to it. So there's a
lack of interdisciplinary understanding as well: you have to look at both to
see how the world works. So cultural theory is constructivist and it allows us
to reframe and expand what constructivism means.







If I apply this constructivist thinking to one of the core
principles in our approach to world politics: what is a cause? I start by
asking, what does 'cause' mean, in physics? Why physics? Because physics is
always the field that political scientists look at, we have 'physics envy', so
to speak. And interestingly, in physics, there is no consensus about what cause
means. Some physicists think that very notion of cause is unhelpful to what
they do. Others are happy with regularities and subscribe to causal thinking. Still
others thing that you need to have mechanisms to explain anything. Still others,
and here statistical mechanics can be taken as a case in point, invoke Kantian
understandings of cause. Within physics there's no argument between people
adhering to these different understandings of 'cause', because you should do
what works! They don't criticize one another. So if they have this diversity,
why shouldn't we? Why shouldn't we develop understandings of cause that are
most appropriate to what we do? So I develop an understanding I call 'inefficient
causation' (download full paper here),
sort of playing off of Aristotle. And it is a constructivist understanding, but
it also incorporates elements that are distinctively non-constructivist. And
identities are only a small piece of the puzzle.











Is
there any sense to make of the way IR has evolved over the 20th
century?







I think if you look at some of the central figures, it's
quite easy. There are 2 great cohorts of International Relations theorists.
Those born in the early years of the 20th century comprise Hans
Morgenthau, John Hertz, E.H. Carr, Harold Lasswell, Nicholas Spykman, Frederick Schuman, and Karl Deutsch—who was
on my dissertation committee together with Isaiah Berlin and John Hertz. The
second cohort is born between about 1939 and 1945, and it comprises Robert
Jervis (Theory Talk #12), Joseph Nye
(Theory Talk #7), Robert Keohane (Theory Talk #9), Oren Young, Peter
Katzenstein (Theory Talk #15), Stephen Krasner (Theory Talk#21), Janice Steinberg… And I'll tell you what I think the reasons are for
these groups to emerge at these particular moments: the first cohort lived
through World War I. And did so, fortunately, in at an age where they were too
young to be combatants for the most part, but they certainly had to deal
intellectually and personally with its consequences and then watch the horrors
unfold of the 1930s.







And the second, my own, cohort was born at the outset of the
Second World War. I think, in that group, I may be the only one of them born in
Europe (France). The rest of them were born in the US. And we came of age
during the most acute crisis of the cohort. So I was either in university or
graduate school during the Berlin crisis, during the Cuba crisis, and certainly
had an interest first in the consequences of WWII and how something like this
could happen, and then living through the horrors of the Cold War, not knowing
if indeed one would live through
them. And that created a very strong incentive and focus for our group of
people. Now a surprising number of this second group did their graduate studies
at Yale: Janice Stein, I, Oren Young, Bruce Russet, Krasner, later all at Yale
with Karl Deutsch. The rest, Jervis, Keohane and Krasner at Harvard with Samuel
Huntington. I think you have the odd person who's born somewhere in between –
so, Ken Waltz (Theory Talk #40), for
instance, is younger. He must be a 1920 person, almost exactly in between these
two, just as Ernst Haas.







And I wouldn't be surprised now if there is another cohort
emerging, the people of around the age of Stefano Guzinni, Jens Bartelson,
Patrick Jackson (Theory Talk #44).
What ties this third cohort together is that they all watched the end of the
Cold War and are coping with its aftermath. So I believe that it's probably two
things: the external environment and the extent to which you're in an
intellectually nurturing institution. And of course for our cohort, it
certainly helped that there were jobs. That was not true of the earlier cohort.
Almost all of them, except E.H. Carr, ended up in the US as refugees. Did you
know Morgenthau started as an elevator boy in New York? Then he got a job
teaching part-time at Brooklyn College because someone fell ill. His wife
cleaned other people's apartments to supplement their income. Then he got a job
at the University of Kansas City, which was a hellhole, and finally Harold
Lasswell got called to Washington for some war work and got Chicago to hire
Morgenthau to replace him.











What is
the issue with the discipline today if, as you noted before, we fail to ask the
most interesting questions and instead focus on method?







Well, it of course depends on which side of the pond you
sit. On the American side of the pond, positivist or game-theoretical
behaviorist or rationalist modeling approaches dominate the literature; it's
just silly, from my perspective. It's based on assumptions which bear no
relationship to the real world. People like it because it's intellectually
elegant: they don't have to learn any languages, they don't have to read any
history, and they can pretend they're scientists discussing universals.
Intellectually, it's ridiculous. Bruce Bueno de Mesquita (Theory Talk #31) is a classic case in point. He's made a huge
reputation for himself with The War Trap (1981).
That book and the corresponding theory are based on a simple assumption,
namely, that there's a war trap compelling states into war, because initiators
win wars. But just look at the empirical record from 1945 to the present—initiators
lose between 80-90% of the wars they start. And that really depends on the
definition of victory. If you use the real definition, the Clausewitzian one,
you have to ask: do they achieve their political goals through violence? Then
the answer is, even fewer "victories". Well, let's cut them some slack, use a
more relaxed definition: did they beat the other side militarily? Initiators
still lose 78 or 82%—I forget exactly which percentage of their wars. And the
profession right now is so ignorant of history that nobody said 'Wait a
minute!' the day the book came out. Instead IR scholars all focus on this model
and fine-tuning it—it's ridiculous! And well, I don't want to go on with a
critique, but this is a serious problem, for it concerns a huge
misunderstanding regarding one of the most important problems out there.







But what happens now is this kind of thinking metastasizes
throughout the discipline because what students in International Relations or
Political Science more generally are taught are calculus, statistics—and I'm
not against this, one should learn them; I use them myself when I wear my
psychologist hat and do quantitative research and statistical analysis—but they
don't learn languages, they don't learn history, they don't learn philosophy.
They are so narrow! Much of this of course has to do with the reward structure
in the United States. It's clear that the statistical scientists are at the top
of the hill. So, economists transform themselves into scientists; but the
social scientists copy them because there are clear institutional rewards. If
you look at our salaries in comparison to the salaries of anthropologists,
historians—then if you sit at the edge of your chair and look over the abyss
you might see the humanists down there in terms of what they get. So very
clearly, there are strong institutional rewards. Once the positivist crowd got
a lock on various foundations and journals, if you want a job, if you want to
rise up through the profession, students tell me you have to do this stuff. IR
graduate students are bricklayers that get turned out of these universities.
That's the tragedy! It's no longer a serious intellectual enterprise. It's not
connected to anything terribly meaningful.







And mind you, I must say, while on the other, European, side
of the pond there is more diversity (one of the reasons I feel more comfortable
here), at the same time there is a strong tendency to go for a certain
heavy-handed brand of post-modernism. If you don't start an article with a
genuflection to Foucault or De Saussure or Derrida, you don't get published.
And by not looking beyond these 20th century thinkers, people in
Europe are often given credit for inventing things which were common knowledge
for hundreds and hundreds of years. Utterly ridiculous. But in between, there
are of course people who are trying to make sense of the world, including many
people in the positivist tradition who are doing good quantitative research and
trying to address serious problems in the world. The difficulty is that these
two extremes are often people who approach IR as a religion and they think that
their way of doing research is the only way
and they have no respect for others. And that's a kind of arrogance to which,
to me, is a violation of what the university is all about.







Ultimately, what is good theory? One approach would be to
say that a good theory is one that appears to order a domain in a way that is
conceptually rigorous - to the extent that that's even possible - that is
original and that raises a series of interesting questions which haven't been
asked before, but which are amenable to empirical research and finally it
should have normative implications. This is what Hans Morgenthau meant when he
said that the purpose of IR theory is not to justify what policymakers did, but
to educate them to act in ways that would lead to a better and more peaceful
world. And that, I think, is the ultimate goal of IR theory that we should not
lose sight of.











You
indicated that Isaiah Berlin was on your dissertation committee. He famously
tries to explain Tolstoy's philosophy of history (in War and Peace) through the parable of the hedgehog and the fox. If
theorists constraining themselves to one drive underpinning policy choices
would be hedgehogs, how would you see yourself? A fox or a hedgehog?







I am clearly a fox! I do different things. Whether I do them
well is debatable. But I certainly think that I'm a man of many tricks. Of
course the distinction also implies not believing in an overarching truth, and
indeed, I try hard not to think about truth because I don't think you can get
very far when you do. Epistemologically and eclectically, I'm a great believer
that we can never really establish a cause, truth, and knowledge. One of the
great problems here goes back to Plato who was shocked that craftsmen equated
technical ability to produce things with knowledge—Sofia, which is wisdom. And
today you have the problem one step up, so another category of knowledge for
the Greeks was episteme. Aristotle
would describe it as 'conceptual knowledge' or that which might even be
represented mathematically. And the people who would be 'expert' in episteme
think they have sofia and their claim
to being a hedgehog is the same kind of conceit, a form of hubris. Berlin's
distinction between hedgehogs and foxes is a very useful and nice concept to
play around with.







Yet it's a bit much to reduce Tolstoy to that tension. You
could do it as a game but it doesn't do much justice because there is so much
else in Tolstoy. He's tilting against the French historians of the 19th
century who have erected Napoleon into this strategic genius. And he does a
very convincing job of showing that what goes on on the battlefield has nothing
whatsoever to do with what Napoleon or anyone else who is wearing a general's
ebullience or theorists hat says. And also, and in this sense, one could see
him as the beginning of subaltern history of social science, he's telling the
story—admittedly about aristocrats, not commoners—but he's telling the story of
ordinary people on the battlefield, not the people making the decisions. So the
war is in a way a background to the lives of the people, focusing our attention
a very humanist way, on people. This, too, is revolutionary for his time.















Professor
Richard Ned Lebow Professor of International Political Theory at the Department
of War Studies, King's College London and James O. Freedman Presidential
Professor Emeritus at Dartmouth College. He is also a Bye-Fellow of
Pembroke College, University of Cambridge. He has taught strategy and the
National and Naval War Colleges and served as a scholar-in-residence in the
Central Intelligence Agency during the Carter administration. He has
authored and edited 28 books and nearly 200 peer reviewed articles.















Related
links








Read the
first chapter of Lebow's The Tragic
Vision of Politics (2003) here (pdf) 
Read
Lebow & Kelly's Thucydides and
Hegemony: Athens and the United States (Review of International Studies
2001), here (pdf) 
Read
Lebow's Deterrence and Reassurance:
Lessons from the Cold War (Global Dialogue 2001) here (pdf) 
Read
Lebow's The Long Peace, the End of the
Cold War, and the Failure of Realism (International Organization, 1994)
here (pdf) 
Read
Lebow's The Cuban Missile Crisis: Reading
the Lessons Correctly (Political Science Quarterly 1983) here (pdf) 



Print version of this Talk (pdf)

Daniel Deudney on Mixed Ontology, Planetary Geopolitics, and Republican Greenpeace



This is the second in a series of Talks dedicated to the technopolitics of International Relations, linked to the forthcoming double volume 'The Global Politics of Science and Technology' edited by Maximilian Mayer, Mariana Carpes, and Ruth Knoblich 






World politics increasingly abrasions with the limits of state-centric thinking, faced as the world is with a set of issues that affect not only us collectively as mankind, but also the planet itself. While much of IR theorizing seems to shirk such realizations, the work of Daniel Deudney has consistently engaged with the complex problems engendered by the entanglements of nuclear weapons, the planetary environment, space exploration, and the kind of political associations that might help us to grapple with our fragile condition as humanity-in-the world. In this elaborate Talk, Deudney—amongst others—lays out his understanding of the fundamental forces that drive both planetary political progress and problems; discusses the kind of ontological position needed to appreciate these problems; and argues for the merits of a republican greenpeace model to political organization.





Print version of this Talk (pdf)







What is, according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current IR? What is your position or answer to this challenge / in this debate?



The study of politics is the study of human politics and the human situation has been—and is being—radically altered by changes in the human relationships with the natural and material worlds. In my view, this means IR and related intellectual disciplines should focus on better understanding the emergence of the 'global' and the 'planetary,' their implications for the overall human world and its innumerable sub-worlds, and their relations with the realization of basic human needs. The global and the planetary certainly don't comprise all of the human situation, but the fact that the human situation has become global and planetary touches every other facet of the human situation, sometimes in fundamental ways. The simple story is that the human world is now 'global and planetary' due to the explosive transformation over the last several centuries of science-based technology occurring within the geophysical and biophysical features of planet Earth. The natural Earth and its relationship with humans have been massively altered by the vast amplifications in dispersed human agency produced by the emergence and spread of machine-based civilization. The overall result of these changes has been the emergence of a global- and planetary-scale material and social reality that is in some ways similar, but in other important ways radically different, from earlier times. Practices and structures inherited from the pre-global human worlds have not adequately been adjusted to take the new human planetary situation into account and their persistence casts a long and partially dark shadow over the human prospect.



A global and planetary focus is also justified—urgently—by the fact that the overall human prospect on this planet, and the fate of much additional life on this planet, is increasingly dependent on the development and employment of new social arrangements for interacting with these novel configurations of material and natural possibilities and limits. Human agency is now situated, and is making vastly fateful choices—for better or worse—in a sprawling, vastly complex aggregation of human-machine-nature assemblies which is our world. The 'fate of the earth' now partly hinges on human choices, and helping to make sure these choices are appropriate ones should be the paramount objective of political scientific and theoretical efforts. However, no one discipline or approach is sufficient to grapple successfully with this topic. All disciplines are necessary. But there are good reasons to believe that 'IR' and related disciplines have a particularly important possible practical role to play. (I am also among those who prefer 'global studies' as a label for the enterprise of answering questions that cut across and significantly subsume both the 'international' and the 'domestic.')



My approach to grappling with this topic is situated—like the work of now vast numbers of other IR theorists and researchers of many disciplines—in the study of 'globalization.' The now widely held starting point for this intellectual effort is the realization that globalization has been the dominant pattern or phenomenon, the story of stories, over at least the last five centuries. Globalization has been occurring in military, ecological, cultural, and economic affairs. And I emphasize—like many, but not all, analysts of globalization—that the processes of globalization are essentially dependent on new machines, apparatuses, and technologies which humans have fabricated and deployed. Our world is global because of the astounding capabilities of machine civilization. This startling transformation of human choice by technological advance is centrally about politics because it is centrally about changes in power. Part of this power story has been about changes in the scope and forms of domination. Globalization has been, to state the point mildly, 'uneven,' marked by amplifications of violence and domination and predation on larger and wider scales. Another part of the story of the power transformation has been the creation of a world marked by high degrees of interdependence, interaction, speed, and complexity. These processes of globalization and the transformation of machine capabilities are not stopping or slowing down but are accelerating. Thus, I argue that 'bounding power'—the growth, at times by breathtaking leaps, of human capabilities to do things—is now a fundamental feature of the human world, and understanding its implications should, in my view, be a central activity for IR scholars.



In addressing the topic of machine civilization and its globalization on Earth, my thinking has been centered first around the developing of 'geopolitical' lines argument to construct a theory of 'planetary geopolitics'. 'Geopolitics' is the study of geography, ecology, technology, and the earth, and space and place, and their interaction with politics. The starting point for geopolitical analysis is accurate mapping. Not too many IR scholars think of themselves as doing 'geography' in any form. In part this results from of the unfortunate segregation of 'geography' into a separate academic discipline, very little of which is concerned with politics. Many also mistake the overall project of 'geopolitics' with the ideas, and egregious mistakes and political limitations, of many self-described 'geopoliticans' who are typically arch-realists, strong nationalists, and imperialists. Everyone pays general lip service to the importance of technology, but little interaction occurs between IR and 'technology studies' and most IR scholars are happy to treat such matters as 'technical' or non-political in character. Despite this general theoretical neglect, many geographic and technological factors routinely pop into arguments in political science and political theory, and play important roles in them.



Thinking about the global and planetary through the lens of a fuller geopolitics is appealing to me because it is the human relationship with the material world and the Earth that has been changed with the human world's globalization. Furthermore, much of the actual agendas of movements for peace, arms control, and sustainability are essentially about alternative ways of ordering the material world and our relations with it. Given this, I find an approach that thinks systematically about the relations between patterns of materiality and different political forms is particularly well-suited to provide insights of practical value for these efforts.



The other key focus of my research has been around extending a variety of broadly 'republican' political insights for a cluster of contemporary practical projects for peace, arms control, and environmental stewardship ('greenpeace'). Even more than 'geopolitics,' 'republicanism' is a term with too many associations and meanings. By republics I mean political associations based on popular sovereignty and marked by mutual limitations, that is, by 'bounding power'—the restraint of power, particularly violent power—in the interests of the people generally. Assuming that security from the application of violence to bodies is a primary (but not sole) task of political association, how do republican political arrangements achieve this end? I argue that the character and scope of power restraint arrangements that actually serve the fundamental security interests of its popular sovereign varies in significant ways in different material contexts.



Republicanism is first and foremost a domestic form, centered upon the successive spatial expansion of domestic-like realms, and the pursuit of a constant political project of maximally feasible ordered freedom in changed spatial and material circumstances. I find thinking about our global and planetary human situation from the perspective of republicanism appealing because the human global and planetary situation has traits—most notably high levels of interdependence, interaction, practical speed, and complexity—that make it resemble our historical experience of 'domestic' and 'municipal' realms. Thinking with a geopolitically grounded republicanism offers insights about global governance very different from the insights generated within the political conceptual universe of hierarchical, imperial, and state-centered political forms. Thus planetary geopolitics and republicanism offers a perspective on what it means to 'Think Globally and Act Locally.' If we think of, or rather recognize, the planet as our locality, and then act as if the Earth is our locality, then we are likely to end up doing various approximations of the best-practice republican forms that we have successfully developed in our historically smaller domestic localities.





How did you arrive at where you currently are in IR?



Like anybody else, the formative events in my intellectual development have been shaped by the thick particularities of time and place. 'The boy is the father of the man,' as it is said. The first and most direction-setting stage in the formation of my 'green peace' research interests was when I was in 'grade school,' roughly the years from age 6-13. During these years my family lived in an extraordinary place, St Simons Island, a largely undeveloped barrier island off the coast of southern Georgia. This was an extremely cool place to be a kid. It had extensive beaches, and marshes, as well as amazing trees of gargantuan proportions. My friends and I spent much time exploring, fishing, camping out, climbing trees, and building tree houses. Many of these nature-immersion activities were spontaneous, others were in Boy Scouts. This extraordinary natural environment and the attachments I formed to it, shaped my strong tendency to see the fates of humans and nature as inescapably intertwined. But the Boy Scouts also instilled me with a sense of 'virtue ethics'. A line from the Boy Scout Handbook captures this well: 'Take a walk around your neighborhood. Make a list of what is right and wrong about it. Make a plan to fix what is not right.' This is a demotic version of Weber's political 'ethic of responsibility.' This is very different from the ethics of self-realization and self-expression that have recently gained such ground in America and elsewhere. It is now very 'politically incorrect' to think favorably of the Boy Scouts, but I believe that if the Scouting experience was universally accessible, the world would be a much improved place.



My kid-in-nature life may sound very Tom Sawyer, but it was also very Tom Swift. My friends and I spent much of our waking time reading about the technological future, and imaginatively play-acting in future worlds. This imaginative world was richly fertilized by science fiction comic books, television shows, movies, and books. Me and my friends—juvenile technological futurists and techno-nerds in a decidedly anti-intellectual culture—were avid readers of Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Ray Bradbury, and Robert Heinlein, and each new issue of Analog was eagerly awaited. While we knew we were Americans, my friends and I had strong inclinations to think of ourselves most essentially as 'earthlings.' We fervently discussed extraterrestrial life and UFOs, and we eagerly awaited the day, soon to occur, we were sure, in which we made 'first contact.' We wanted to become, if not astronauts, then designers and builders of spaceships. We built tree houses, but we filled them with discarded electronics and they became starships. We rode bicycles, but we lugged about attaché cases filled with toy ray guns, transistor radios, firecrackers, and homemade incendiary devices. We built and fired off rockets, painstaking assembled plastic kit models of famous airplanes and ships, and then we would blow them apart with our explosives. The future belonged to technology, and we fancied ourselves its avant garde.



Yet the prospect of nuclear Armageddon seemed very real. We did 'duck and cover' drills at school, and sat for two terrifying weeks through the Cuban Missile Crisis. My friends and I had copies of the Atomic Energy Commission manuals on 'nuclear effects,' complete with a slide-rule like gadget that enabled us to calculate just what would happen if near-by military bases were obliterated by nuclear explosions. Few doubted that we were, in the words of a pop song, 'on the eve of destruction.' These years were also the dawning of 'the space age' in which humans were finally leaving the Earth and starting what promised to be an epic trek, utterly transformative in its effects, to the stars. My father worked for a number of these years for a large aerospace military-industrial firm, then working for NASA to build the very large rockets needed to launch men and machines to the moon and back. My friends and I debated fantastical topics, such as the pros and cons of emigrating to Mars, and how rapidly a crisis-driven exodus from the earth could be organized.



Two events that later occurred in the area where I spent my childhood served as culminating catalytic events for my greenpeace thinking. First, some years after my family moved away, the industrial facility to mix rocket fuel that had been built by the company my father worked for, and that he had helped put into operation, was struck by an extremely violent 'industrial accident,' which reduced, in one titanic flash, multi-story concrete and steel buildings filled with specialized heavy industrial machinery (and everyone in them) into a grey powdery gravel ash, no piece of which was larger than a fist. Second, during the late 1970s, the US Navy acquired a large tract of largely undeveloped marsh and land behind another barrier island (Cumberland), an area 10-15 miles from where I had lived, a place where I had camped, fished, and hunted deer. The Navy dredged and filled what was one of the most biologically fertile temperate zone estuaries on the planet. There they built the east coast base for the new fleet of Trident nuclear ballistic missile submarines, the single most potent violence machine ever built, thus turning what was for me the wildest part of my wild-encircled childhood home into one of the largest nuclear weapons complexes on earth. These events catalyzed for me the realization that there was a great struggle going on, for the Earth and for the future, and I knew firmly which side I was on.



My approach to thinking about problems was also strongly shaped by high school debate, where I learned the importance of 'looking at questions from both sides,' and from this stems my tendency to look at questions as debates between competing answers, and to focus on decisively engaging, defeating, and replacing the strongest and most influential opposing positions. As an undergraduate at Yale College, I started doing Political Theory. I am sure that I was a very vexing student in some ways, because (the debater again) I asked Marxist questions to my liberal and conservative professors, and liberal and conservative ones to my Marxist professors. Late in my sophomore year, I had my epiphany, my direction-defining moment, that my vocation would be an attempt to do the political theory of the global and the technological. Since then, the only decisions have been ones of priority and execution within this project.



Wanting to learn something about cutting-edge global and technological and issues, I next went to Washington D.C. for seven years. I worked on Capitol Hill for three and a half years as a policy aide, working on energy and conservation and renewable energy and nuclear power. I spent the other three and a half years as a Senior Researcher at the Worldwatch Institute, a small environmental and global issues think tank that was founded and headed by Lester Brown, a well-known and far-sighted globalist. I co-authored a book about renewable energy and transitions to global sustainability and wrote a study on space and space weapons. At the time I published Whole Earth Security: a Geopolitics of Peace (1983), in which my basic notions of planetary geopolitics and republicanism were first laid out. During these seven years in Washington, I also was a part-time student, earning a Master's degree in Science, Technology and Public Policy at George Washington University.



In all, these Washington experiences have been extremely valuable for my thinking. Many political scientists view public service as a low or corrupting activity, but this is, I think, very wrong-headed. The reason that the democratic world works as well as it does is because of the distributive social intelligence. But social intelligence is neither as distributed nor as intelligent as it needs to be to deal with many pressing problems. My experience as a Congressional aide taught me that most of the problems that confront my democracy are rooted in various limits and corruptions of the people. I have come to have little patience with those who say, for example, rising inequality is inherent in capital C capitalism, when the more proximate explanation is that the Reagan Republican Party was so successful in gutting the progressive tax system previously in place in the United States. Similarly, I see little value in claims, to take a very contemporary example, that 'the NSA is out of control' when this agency is doing more or less what the elected officials, responding to public pressures to provide 'national security' loudly demanded. In democracies, the people are ultimately responsible.



As I was immersed in the world of arms control and environmental activism I was impressed by the truth of Keynes's oft quoted line, about the great practical influence of the ideas of some long-dead 'academic scribbler.' This is true in varying degrees in every issue area, but in some much more than others. This reinforced my sense that great potential practical consequence of successfully innovating in the various conceptual frameworks that underpinned so many important activities. For nuclear weapons, it became clear to me that the problem was rooted in the statist and realist frames that people so automatically brought to a security question of this magnitude.



Despite the many appeals of a career in DC politics and policy, this was all for me an extended research field-trip, and so I left Washington to do a PhD—a move that mystified many of my NGO and activist friends, and seemed like utter folly to my political friends. At Princeton University, I concentrated on IR, Political Theory, and Military History and Politics, taking courses with Robert Gilpin, Richard Falk, Barry Posen, Sheldon Wolin and others. In my dissertation—entitled Global Orders: Geopolitical and Materialist Theories of the Global-Industrial Era, 1890-1945—I explored IR and related thinking about the impacts of the industrial revolution as a debate between different world order alternatives, and made arguments about the superiority of liberalist, internationalist, and globalist arguments—most notably from H.G. Wells and John Dewey—to the strong realist and imperialist ideas most commonly associated with the geopolitical writers of this period.



I also continued engaging in activist policy affiliated to the Program on Nuclear Policy Alternatives at the Center for Energy andEnvironmental Studies (CEES), which was then headed by Frank von Hippel, a physicist turned 'public interest scientist', and a towering figure in the global nuclear arms control movement. I was a Post Doc at CEES during the Gorbachev era and I went on several amazing and eye-opening trips to the Soviet Union. Continuing my space activism, I was able to organize workshops in Moscow and Washington on large-scale space cooperation, gathering together many of the key space players on both sides. While Princeton was fabulously stimulating intellectually, it was also a stressful pressure-cooker, and I maintained my sanity by making short trips, two of three weekends, over six years, to Manhattan, where I spent the days working in the main reading room of the New York Public Library and the nights partying and relaxing in a world completely detached from academic life.



When it comes to my intellectual development in terms of reading theory, the positive project I wanted to pursue was partially defined by approaches I came to reject. Perhaps most centrally, I came to reject an approach that was very intellectually powerful, even intoxicating, and which retains great sway over many, that of metaphysical politics. The politics of the metaphysicians played a central role in my coming to reject the politics of metaphysics. The fact that some metaphysical ideas and the some of the deep thinkers who advanced them, such as Heidegger, and many Marxists, were so intimately connected with really disastrous politics seemed a really damning fact for me, particularly given that these thinkers insisted so strongly on the link between their metaphysics and their politics. I was initially drawn to Nietzsche's writing (what twenty-year old isn't) but his model of the philosopher founder or law-giver—that is, of a spiritually gifted but alienated guy (and it always is a guy) with a particularly strong but frustrated 'will to power' going into the wilderness, having a deep spiritual revelation, and then returning to the mundane corrupt world with new 'tablets of value,' along with a plan to take over and run things right—seemed more comic than politically relevant, unless the prophet is armed, in which case it becomes a frightful menace. The concluding scene in Herman Hesse's Magister Ludi (sometimes translated as The Glass Bead Game) summarized by overall view of the 'high theory' project. After years of intense training by the greatest teachers the most spiritually and intellectually gifted youths finally graduate. To celebrate, they go to lake, dive in, and, having not learned how to swim, drown.



I was more attracted to Aristotle, Hume, Montesquieu, Dewey and other political theorists with less lofty and comprehensive views of what theory might accomplish; weary of actions; based on dogmatic or totalistic thinking; an eye to the messy and compromised world; with a political commitment to liberty and the interests of the many; a preference for peace over war; an aversion to despotism and empire; and an affinity for tolerance and plurality. I also liked some of those thinkers because of their emphasis on material contexts. Montesquieu seeks to analyze the interaction of material contexts and republican political forms; Madison and his contemporaries attempt to extend the spatial scope of republican political association by recombining in novel ways various earlier power restraint arrangements. I was tremendously influenced by Dewey, studying intensively his slender volume The Public and its Problems (1927)—which I think is the most important book in twentieth century political thought. By the 'public' Dewey means essentially a stakeholder group, and his main point is that the material transformations produced by the industrial revolution has created new publics, and that the political task is to conceptualize and realize forms of community and government appropriate to solving the problems that confront these new publics.



One can say my overall project became to apply and extend their concepts to the contemporary planetary situation. Concomitantly reading IR literature on nuclear weapons, I was struck by fact that the central role that material realities played in these arguments was very ad hoc, and that many of the leading arguments on nuclear politics were very unconvincing. It was clear that while Waltz (Theory Talk #40) had brilliantly developed some key ideas about anarchy made by Hobbes and Rousseau, he had also left something really important out. These sorts of deficiencies led me to develop the arguments contained in Bounding Power. I think it is highly unlikely that I would have had these doubts, or come to make the arguments I made without having worked in political theory and in policy.



I read many works that greatly influenced my thinking in this area, among them works by Lewis Mumford, Langdon Winner's Autonomous Technology, James Lovelock's Gaia, Charles Perrow's Normal Accidents (read a related article here, pdf), Jonathan Schell's Fate of the Earth and The Abolition, William Ophul's Ecology and the Politics of Scarcity... I was particularly stuck by a line in Buckminster Fuller's Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth (pdf), that we live in a 'spaceship' like closed highly interconnected system, but lack an 'operating manual' to guide intelligently our actions. It was also during this period that I read key works by H.G. Wells, most notably his book, Anticipations, and his essay The Idea of a League of Nations, both of which greatly influenced my thinking.



This aside, the greatest contribution to my thinking has come from conversations sustained over many years with some really extraordinary individuals. To mention those that I have been arguing with, and learning from, for at least ten years, there is John O'Looney, Wesley Warren, Bob Gooding-Williams, Alyn McAuly, Henry Nau, Richard Falk, Michael Doyle (Theory Talk #1), Richard Mathew, Paul Wapner, Bron Taylor, Ron Deibert, John Ikenberry, Bill Wohlforth, Frank von Hippel, Ethan Nadelmann, Fritz Kratochwil, Barry Buzan (Theory Talk #35), Ole Waever, John Agnew (Theory Talk #4), Barry Posen, Alex Wendt (Theory Talk #3), James der Derian, David Hendrickson, Nadivah Greenberg, Tim Luke, Campbell Craig, Bill Connolly, Steven David, Jane Bennett, Daniel Levine (TheoryTalk #58), and Jairus Grove. My only regret is that I have not spoken even more with them, and with the much larger number of people I have learned from on a less sustained basis along the way.

                                    



What would a student need to become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global way?



I have thought a great deal about what sort of answers to this question can be generally valuable. For me, the most important insight is that success in intellectual life and academia is determined by more or less the same combination of factors that determines success more generally. This list is obvious: character, talent, perseverance and hard work, good judgment, good 'people skills,' and luck. Not everyone has a talent to do this kind of work, but the number of people who do have the talent to do this kind of work is much larger than the number of people who are successful in doing it. I think in academia as elsewhere, the people most likely to really succeed are those whose attitude toward the activity is vocational. A vocation is something one is called to do by an inner voice that one cannot resist. People with vocations never really work in one sense, because they are doing something that they would be doing even if they were not paid or required. Of course, in another sense people with vocations never stop working, being so consumed with their path that everything else matters very little. People with jobs and professions largely stop working when they when the lottery, but people with vocations are empowered to work more and better. When your vocation overlaps with your job, you should wake up and say 'wow, I cannot believe I am being paid to do this!' Rather obviously, the great danger in the life paths of people with vocations is imbalance and burn-out. To avoid these perils it is beneficial to sustain strong personal relationships, know when and how to 'take off' effectively, and sustain the ability to see things as an unfolding comedy and to laugh.



Academic life also involves living and working in a profession. Compared to the oppressions that so many thinkers and researchers have historically suffered from, contemporary professional academic life is a utopia. But academic life has several aspects unfortunate aspects, and coping successfully with them is vital. Academic life is full of 'odd balls' and the loose structure of universities and organization, combined with the tenure system, licenses an often florid display of dubious behavior. A fair number of academics have really primitive and incompetent social skills. Others are thin skinned-ego maniacs. Some are pompous hypocrites. Some are ruthlessly self-aggrandizing and underhanded. Some are relentless shirkers and free-riders. Also, academic life is, particularly relative to the costs of obtaining the years of education necessary to obtain it, not very well paid. Corruptions of clique, ideological factionalism, and nepotism occur. If not kept in proper perspective, and approached in appropriate ways, academic department life can become stupidly consuming of time, energy, and most dangerously, intellectual attention. The basic step for healthy departmental life is to approach it as a professional role.



The other big dimension of academic life is teaching. Teaching is one of the two 'deliverables' that academic organizations provide in return for the vast resources they consume. Shirking on teaching is a dereliction of responsibility, but also is the foregoing of a great opportunity. Teaching is actually one of the most assuredly consequential things academics do. The key to great teaching is, I think, very simple: inspire and convey enthusiasm. Once inspired, students learn. Once students take questions as their own, they become avid seekers of answers. Teachers of things political also have a responsibility to remain even-handed in what they teach, to make sure that they do not teach just or mainly their views, to make sure that the best and strongest versions of opposing sides are heard. Teaching seeks to produce informed and critically thinking students, not converts. Beyond the key roles of inspiration and even-handedness, the rest is the standard package of tasks relevant in any professional role: good preparation, good organization, hard work, and clarity of presentation.





Your main book, Bounding Power: Republican Security Theory from the Polis to the Global Village (2007), is a mix of intellectual history, political theory and IR theory, and is targeted largely at realism. How does a reading and interpretation of a large number of old books tell us something new about realism, and the contemporary global?



Bounding Power attempts to dispel some very large claims made by realists about their self-proclaimed 'tradition,' a lineage of thought in which they place many of the leading Western thinkers about political order, such as Thucydides, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Rousseau, and the 'global geopoliticans' from the years around the beginning of the twentieth century. In the book I argue that the actual main axis of western thinking about political order (and its absence) is largely the work of 'republican' thinkers from the small number of 'republics', and that many of the key ideas that realists call realist and liberals call liberal are actually fragments of a larger, more encompassing set of arguments that were primarily in the idioms of republicanism. This entails dispelling the widely held view that the liberal and proto-liberal republican thought and practice are marked by 'idealism'—and therefore both inferior in their grasp of the problem of security-from violence and valuable only when confined to the 'domestic.' I demonstrate that this line of republican security thinkers had a robust set of claims both about material contextual factors, about the 'geopolitics of freedom', and a fuller understanding of security-from-violence. The book shows how perhaps the most important insights of this earlier cluster of arguments has oddly been dropped by both realists (particularly neorealists) and liberal international theorists. And, finally, it is an attempt to provide an understanding that posits the project of exiting anarchy on a global scale as something essentially unprecedented, and as something that the best of our inherited theory leaves us unable to say much about.



The main argument is contained in my formulation of what I think are the actual the two main sets of issues of Western structural-materialist security theory, two problematiques formulated in republican and naturalist-materialist conceptual vocabularies. The first problematique concerns the relationship between material context, the scope of tolerable anarchy, and necessary-for-security government. The second problematic concerns the relative security-viability of two main different forms of government—hierarchical and republican.



This formulation of the first problematic concerning anarchy differs from the main line of contemporary Realist argument in that it poses the question as one about the spatial scope of tolerable anarchy. The primary variable in my reconstruction of the material-contextual component of these arguments is what I term violence interdependence (absent, weak, strong, and intense). The main substantive claim of Western structural-materialist security theory is that situations of anarchy combined with intense violence interdependence are incompatible with security and require substantive government. Situations of strong and weak violence interdependence constitute a tolerable (if at times 'nasty and brutish') second ('state-of-war') anarchy not requiring substantive government. Early formulations of 'state of nature' arguments, explicitly or implicitly hinge upon this material contextual variable, and the overall narrative structure of the development of republican security theory and practice has concerned natural geographic variations and technologically caused changes in the material context, and thus the scope of security tolerable/intolerable anarchy and needed substantive government. This argument was present in early realist versions of anarchy arguments, but has been dropped by neorealists. Conversely, contemporary liberal international theorists analyze interdependence, but have little to say about violence. The result is that the realists talk about violence and security, and the liberals talk about interdependence not relating to violence, producing the great lacuna of contemporary theory: analysis of violence interdependence.



The second main problematique, concerning the relative security viability of hierarchical and republican forms, has also largely been lost sight of, in large measure by the realist insistence that governments are by definition hierarchical, and the liberal avoidance of system structural theory in favor of process, ideational, and economic variables. (For neoliberals, cooperation is seen as (possibly) occurring in anarchy, without altering or replacing anarchy.) The main claim here is that republican and proto-liberal theorists have a more complete grasp of the security political problem than realists because of their realization that both the extremes of hierarchy and anarchy are incompatible with security. In order to register this lost component of structural theory I refer to republican forms at both the unit and the system-level as being characterized by an ordering principle which I refer to as negarchy. Such political arrangements are characterized by the simultaneous negation of both hierarchy and anarchy. The vocabulary of political structures should thus be conceived as a triad-triangle of anarchy, hierarchy, and negarchy, rather than a spectrum stretching from pure anarchy to pure hierarchy. Using this framework, Bounding Power traces various formulations of the key arguments of security republicans from the Greeks through the nuclear era as arguments about the simultaneous avoidance of hierarchy and anarchy on expanding spatial scales driven by variations and changes in the material context. If we recognize the main axis of our thinking in this way, we can stand on a view of our past that is remarkable in its potential relevance to thinking and dealing with the contemporary 'global village' like a human situation.





Nuclear weapons play a key role in the argument of Bounding Power about the present, as well as elsewhere in your work. But are nuclear weapons are still important as hey were during the Cold War to understand global politics?



Since their arrival on the world scene in the middle years of the twentieth century, there has been pretty much universal agreement that nuclear weapons are in some fundamental way 'revolutionary' in their implications for security-from-violence and world politics. The fact that the Cold War is over does not alter, and even stems from, this fact. Despite this wide agreement on the importance of nuclear weapons, theorists, policy makers, and popular arms control/disarmament movements have fundamental disagreements about which political forms are compatible with the avoidance of nuclear war. I have attempted to provide a somewhat new answer to this 'nuclear-political question', and to explain why strong forms of interstate arms control are necessary for security in the nuclear age. I argue that achieving the necessary levels of arms control entails somehow exiting interstate anarchy—not toward a world government as a world state, but toward a world order that is a type of compound republican union (marked by, to put it in terms of above discussion, a nearly completely negarchical structure).



This argument attempts to close what I term the 'arms control gap', the discrepancy between the value arms control is assigned by academic theorists of nuclear weapons and their importance in the actual provision of security in the nuclear era. During the Cold War, thinking among IR theorists about nuclear weapons tended to fall into three broad schools—war strategists, deterrence statists, and arms controllers. Where the first two only seem to differ about the amount of nuclear weapons necessary for states seeking security (the first think many, the second less), the third advocates that states do what they have very rarely done before the nuclear age, reciprocal restraints on arms.



But this Cold War triad of arguments is significantly incomplete as a list of the important schools of thought about the nuclear-political question. There are four additional schools, and a combination of their arguments constitutes, I argue, a superior answer to the nuclear-political question. First are the nuclear one worlders, a view that flourished during the late 1940s and early 1950s, and held that the simple answer to the nuclear political question is to establish a world government, as some sort of state. Second are the populist anti-nuclearists, who indict state apparatuses of acting contrary to the global public's security interests. Third are the deep arms controllers, such as Jonathan Schell, who argue that nuclear weapons need to be abolished. Fourth are the theorists of omniviolence, who theorize situations produced by the leakage of nuclear weapons into the hands of non-state actors who cannot be readily deterred from using nuclear weapons. What all of these schools have in common is that they open up the state and make arguments about how various forms of political freedom—and the institutions that make it possible—are at issue in answering the nuclear-political question.

                                                                                                                

Yet one key feature all seven schools share is that they all make arguments about how particular combinations and configurations of material realities provide the basis for thinking that their answer to the nuclear-political question is correct. Unfortunately, their understandings of how material factors shape, or should shape, actual political arrangements is very ad hoc. Yet the material factors—starting with sheer physical destructiveness—are so pivotal that they merit a more central role in theories of nuclear power. I think we need to have a model that allows us to grasp how variations in material contexts condition the functionality of 'modes of protection', that is, distinct and recurring security practices (and their attendant political structures).



For instance, one mode of protection—what I term the real-state mode of protection—attempts to achieve security through the concentration, mobilization, and employment of violence capability. This is the overall, universal, context-independent strategy of realists. Bringing into view material factors, I argue, shows that this mode of protection is functional not universally but specifically—and only—in material contexts that are marked by violence-poverty and slowness. This mode of protection is dysfunctional in nuclear material contexts marked by violence abundance and high violence velocities. In contrast, a republican federal mode of protection is a bundle of practices that aim for the demobilization and deceleration of violence capacity, and that the practices associated with this mode of protection are security functional in the nuclear material context.



What emerges from such an approach to ideas about the relation between nuclear power and security from violence is that the epistemological foundations for any of the major positions about nuclear weapons are actually much weaker than we should be comfortable with. People often say the two most important questions about the nuclear age are: what is the probability that nuclear weapons will be used? And then, what will happen when they are used? The sobering truth is that we really do not have good grounds for confidently answering either of those two questions. But every choice made about nuclear weapons depends on risk calculations that depend on how we answer these questions.





You have also written extensively on space, a topic that has not recently attracted much attention from many IR scholars. How does your thinking on this relate to your overall thinking about the global and planetary situation?

                                                                                                          

The first human steps into outer space during the middle years of the twentieth century have been among the most spectacular and potentially consequential events in the globalization of machine civilization on Earth. Over the course of what many call 'the space age,' thinking about space activities, space futures, and the consequences of space activities has been dominated by an elaborately developed body of 'space expansionist' thought that makes ambitious and captivating claims about both the feasibility and the desirability of human expansion into outer space. Such views of space permeate popular culture, and at times appear to be quite influential in actual space policy. Space expansionists hold that outer space is a limitless frontier and that humans should make concerted efforts to explore and colonize and extend their military activities into space. They claim the pursuit of their ambitious projects will have many positive, even transformative, effects upon the human situation on Earth, by escaping global closure, protecting the earth's habitability, preserving political plurality, and enhancing species survival. Claims about the Earth, its historical patterns and its contemporary problems, permeate space expansionist thinking.



While the feasibility, both technological and economic, of space expansionist projects has been extensively assessed, arguments for their desirability have not been accorded anything approaching a systematic assessment. In part, such arguments about the desirability of space expansion are difficult to assess because they incorporate claims that are very diverse in character, including claims about the Earth (past, present, and future), about the ways in which material contexts made up of space 'geography' and technologies produce or heavily favor particular political outcomes, and about basic worldview assumptions regarding nature, science, technology, and life.



By breaking these space expansionist arguments down into their parts, and systematically assessing their plausibility, a very different picture of the space prospect emerges. I think there are strong reasons to think that the consequences of the human pursuit of space expansion have been, and could be, very undesirable, even catastrophic. The actual militarization of that core space technology ('the rocket') and the construction of a planetary-scope 'delivery' and support system for nuclear war-fighting has been the most important consequence of actual space activities, but these developments have been curiously been left out of accounts of the space age and assessments of its impacts. Similarly, much of actually existing 'nuclear arms control' has centered on restraining and dismantling space weapons, not nuclear weapons. Thus the most consequential space activity—the acceleration of nuclear delivery capabilities—has been curiously rendered almost invisible in accounts of space and assessments of its impacts. This is an 'unknown known' of the 'space age'. Looking ahead, the creation of large orbital infrastructures will either presuppose or produce world government, potentially of a very hierarchical sort.  There are also good reasons to think that space colonies are more likely to be micro-totalitarian than free. And extensive human movement off the planet could in a variety of ways increase the vulnerability of life on Earth, and even jeopardize the survival of the human species.



Finally, I think much of space expansionist (and popular) thinking about space and the consequences of humans space activities has been marked by basic errors in practical geography. Most notably, there is the widespread failure to realize that the expansion of human activities into Earth's orbital space has enhanced global closure, because the effective distances in Earth's space make it very small. And because of the formidable natural barriers to human space activity, space is a planetary 'lid, not a 'frontier'. So one can say that the most important practical discovery of the 'space age' has been an improved understanding of the Earth. These lines of thinking, I find, would suggest the outlines of a more modest and Earth-centered space program, appropriate for the current Earth age. Overall, the fact that we can't readily expand into space is part of why we are in a new 'earth age' rather than a 'space age'.





You've argued against making the environment into a national security issue twenty years ago. Do the same now, considering that making the environment a bigger priority by making it into a national security issue might be the only way to prevent total environmental destruction?



When I started writing about the relationships between environment and security twenty years ago, not a great deal of work had been done on this topic. But several leading environmental thinkers were making the case that framing environmental issues as security issues, or what came to be called 'securitizing the environment', was not only a good strategy to get action on environmental problems, but also was useful analytically to think about these two domains. Unlike the subsequent criticisms of 'environmental security' made by Realists and scholars of conventional 'security studies', my criticism starts with the environmentalist premise that environmental deterioration is a paramount problem for contemporary humanity as a whole.



Those who want to 'securitize the environment' are attempting to do what William James a century ago proposed as a general strategy for social problem solving. Can we find, in James' language, 'a moral equivalent of war?' (Note the unfortunately acronym: MEOW). War and the threat of war, James observed, often lead to rapid and extensive mobilizations of effort. Can we somehow transfer these vast social energies to deal with other sets of problems? This is an enduring hope, particularly in the United States, where we have a 'war on drugs', a 'war on cancer', and a 'war on poverty'. But doing this for the environment, by 'securitizing the environment,' is unlikely to be very successful. And I fear that bringing 'security' orientations, institutions, and mindsets into environmental problem-solving will also bring in statist, nationalist, and militarist approaches. This will make environmental problem-solving more difficult, not easier, and have many baneful side-effects.



Another key point I think is important, is that the environment—and the various values and ends associated with habitat and the protection of habitat—are actually much more powerful and encompassing than those of security and violence. Instead of 'securitizing the environment' it is more promising is to 'environmentalize security'. Not many people think about the linkages between the environment and security-from-violence in this way, but I think there is a major case of it 'hiding in plain sight' in the trajectory of how the state-system and nuclear weapons have interacted.



When nuclear weapons were invented and first used in the 1940s, scientists were ignorant about many aspects of their effects. As scientists learned about these effects, and as this knowledge became public, many people started thinking and acting in different ways about nuclear choices. The fact that a ground burst of a nuclear weapon would produce substantial radioactive 'fall-out' was not appreciated until the first hydrogen bomb tests in the early 1950s. It was only then that scientists started to study what happened to radioactive materials dispersed widely in the environment. Evidence began to accumulate that some radioactive isotopes would be 'bio-focused', or concentrated by biological process. Public interest scientists began effectively publicizing this information, and mothers were alerted to the fact that their children's teeth were become radioactive. This new scientific knowledge about the environmental effects of nuclear explosions, and the public mobilizations it produced, played a key role in the first substantial nuclear arms control treaty, the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963, which banned nuclear weapons testing in the atmosphere, in the ocean, and in space. Thus, the old ways of providing security were circumscribed by new knowledge and new stakeholders of environmental health effects. The environment was not securitized, security was partially environmentalized.



Thus, while some accounts by arms control theorists emphasize the importance of 'social learning' in altering US-Soviet relations, an important part of this learning was not about the nature of social and political interactions, but about the environmental consequences of nuclear weapons. The learning that was most important in motivating so many actors (both within states and in mass publics) to seek changes in politics was 'natural learning,' or more specifically learning about the interaction of natural and technological systems.



An even more consequential case of the environmentalization of security occurred in the 1970's and 1980's. A key text here is Jonathan Schell's book, The Fate of the Earth. Schell's book, combining very high-quality journalism with first rate political theoretical reflections, lays out in measured terms the new discoveries of ecologists and atmospheric scientists about the broader planetary consequences of an extensive nuclear war. Not only would hundreds of millions of people be immediately killed and much of the planet's built infrastructure destroyed, but the planet earth's natural systems would be so altered that the extinction of complex life forms, among them homo sapiens, might result. The detonation of numerous nuclear weapons and the resultant burning of cities would probably dramatically alter the earth's atmosphere, depleting the ozone layer that protects life from lethal solar radiations, and filling the atmosphere with sufficient dust to cause a 'nuclear winter.' At stake in nuclear war, scientists had learned, was not just the fate of nations, but of the earth as a life support system. Conventional accounts of the nuclear age and of the end of the Cold War are loath to admit it, but it I believe it is clear that spreading awareness of these new natural-technological possibilities played a significant role in ending the Cold War and the central role that nuclear arms control occupies in the settlement of the Cold War. Again, traditional ways of achieving security-from-violence were altered by new knowledges about their environmental consequences—security practices and arrangements were partly environmentalized.



Even more radically, I think we can also turn this into a positive project. As I wrote two decades ago, environmental restoration would probably generate political externalities that would dampen tendencies towards violence. In other words, if we address the problem of the environment, then we will be drawn to do various things that will make various types of violent conflict less likely.





Your work is permeated by references to 'material factors'. This makes it different from branches of contemporary IR—like constructivism or postmodernism—which seem to be underpinned by a profound commitment to focus solely one side of the Cartesian divide. What is your take on the pervasiveness and implications of this 'social bias'?



Postmodernism and constructivism are really the most extreme manifestations of a broad trend over the last two centuries toward what I refer to as 'social-social science' and the decline—but hardly the end—of 'natural-social science'. Much of western thought prior to this turn was 'naturalist' and thus tended to downplay both human agency and ideas. At the beginning of the nineteenth century—partly because of the influence of German idealism, partly because of the great liberationist projects that promised to give better consequence to the activities and aspirations of the larger body of human populations (previously sunk in various forms of seemingly natural bondages), and partly because of the great expansion of human choice brought about by the science-based technologies of the Industrial Revolution—there was a widespread tendency to move towards 'social-social science,' the project of attempting to explain the human world solely by reference to the human world, to explain social outcomes with reference to social causes. While this was the dominant tendency, and a vastly productive one in many ways, it existed alongside and in interaction with what is really a modernized version of the earlier 'natural-social science.' Much of my work has sought to 'bring back in' and extend these 'natural-social' lines of argument—found in figures such as Dewey and H.G. Wells—into our thinking about the planetary situation.



In many parts of both European and American IR and related areas, Postmodern and constructivist theories have significantly contributed to IR theorists by enhancing our appreciation of ideas, language, and identities in politics. As a response to the limits and blindnesses of certain types of rationalist, structuralist, and functional theories, this renewed interest in the ideational is an important advance. Unfortunately, both postmodernism and constructivism have been marked by a strong tendency to go too far in their emphasis of the ideational. Postmodernism and constructivism have also helped make theorists much more conscious of the implicit—and often severely limiting—ontological assumptions that underlay, inform, and bound their investigations. This is also a major contribution to the study of world politics in all its aspects.



Unfortunately, this turn to ontology has also had intellectually limiting effects by going too far, in the search for a pure or nearly pure social ontology. With the growth in these two approaches, there has indeed been a decided decline in theorizing about the material. But elsewhere in the diverse world of theorizing about IR and the global, theorizing about the material never came anything close to disappearing or being eclipsed. For anyone thinking about the relationships between politics and nuclear weapons, space, and the environment, theorizing about the material has remained at the center, and it would be difficult to even conceive of how theorizing about the material could largely disappear. The recent 're-discovery of the material' associated with various self-styled 'new materialists' is a welcome, if belated, re-discovery for postmodernists and constructivists. For most of the rest of us, the material had never been largely dropped out.



A very visible example of the ways in which the decline in appropriate attention to the material, an excessive turn to the ideational, and the quest for a nearly pure social ontology, can lead theorizing astray is the core argument in Alexander Wendt's main book, Social Theory of International Politics, one of the widely recognized landmarks of constructivist IR theory. The first part of the book advances a very carefully wrought and sophisticated argument for a nearly pure ideational social ontology. The material is explicitly displaced into a residue or rump of unimportance. But then, to the reader's surprise, the material, in the form of 'common fate' produced by nuclear weapons, and climate change, reappears and is deployed to play a really crucial role in understanding contemporary change in world politics. 



My solution is to employ a mixed ontology. By this I mean that I think several ontologically incommensurate and very different realities are inescapable parts the human world. These 'unlikes' are inescapable parts of any argument, and must somehow be combined. There are a vast number of ways in which they can be combined, and on close examination, virtually all arguments in the social sciences are actually employing some version of a mixed ontology, however implicitly and under-acknowledged.



But not all combinations are equally useful in addressing all questions. In my version of mixed ontology—which I call 'practical naturalism'—human social agency is understood to be occurring 'between two natures': on the one hand the largely fixed nature of humans, and on the other the changing nature composed of the material world, a shifting amalgam of actual non-human material nature of geography and ecology, along with human artifacts and infrastructures. Within this frame, I posit as rooted in human biological nature, a set of 'natural needs,' most notably for security-from-violence and habitat services. Then I pose questions of functionality, by which I mean: which combinations of material practices, political structures, ideas and identities are needed to achieve these ends in different material contexts? Answering this question requires the formulation of various 'historical materialist' propositions, which in turn entails the systematic formulation of typologies and variation in both the practices, structures and ideas, and in material contexts. These arguments are not centered on explaining what has or what will happen. Instead they are practical in the sense that they are attempting to answer the question of 'what is to be done' given the fixed ends and given changing material contexts. I think this is what advocates of arms control and environmental sustainability are actually doing when they claim that one set of material practices and their attendant political structures, identities and ideas must be replaced with another if basic human needs are to going to continue to be meet in the contemporary planetary material situation created by the globalization of machine civilization on earth.

                                  

Since this set of arguments is framed within a mixed ontology, ideas and identities are a vital part of the research agenda. Much of the energy of postmodern and many varieties of critical theory have focused on 'deconstructing' various identities and ideas. This critical activity has produced and continues to produce many insights of theorizing about politics. But I think there is an un-tapped potential for theorists who are interested in ideas and identities, and who want their work to make a positive contribution to practical problem-solving in the contemporary planetary human situation in what might be termed a 'constructive constructivism'. This concerns a large practical theory agenda—and an urgent one at that, given the rapid increase in planetary problems—revolving around the task of figuring out which ideas and identities are appropriate for the planetary world, and in figuring out how they can be rapidly disseminated. Furthermore, thinking about how to achieve consciousness change of this sort is not something ancillary to the greenpeace project but vital to it. My thinking on how this should and might be done centers the construction of a new social narrative, centered not on humanity but on the earth.





Is it easy to plug your mixed ontology and interests beyond the narrow confines of IR or even the walls of the ivory tower into processes of collective knowledge proliferation in IR—a discipline increasingly characterized by compartimentalization and specialization?



The great plurality of approaches in IR today is indispensible and a welcome change. The professionalization of IR and the organization of intellectual life has some corruptions and pitfalls that are best avoided. The explosion of 'isms' and of different perspectives has been valuable and necessary in many ways, but it has also helped to foster and empower sectarian tendencies that confound the advance of knowledge. Some of the adherents of some sects and isms boast openly of establishing 'citation cartels' to favor themselves and their friends. Some theorists also have an unfortunate tendency to assume that because they have adopted a label that what they actually do is the actually the realization of the label. Thus we have 'realists' with limited grasp on realities, 'critical theorists' who repeat rather than criticize the views of other 'critical theorists,' and anti-neoliberals who are ruthless Ayn Rand-like self aggrandizers. The only way to fully address these tendencies is to talk to people you disagree with, and find and communicate with people in other disciplines.



Another consequence of this sectarianism is visible in the erosion of scholarly standards of citation. The system of academic incentives is configured to reward publication, and the publication of ideas that are new. This has a curiously perverse impact on the achievement of cumulativity. One seemingly easy and attractive path to saying something new is to say something old in new language, to say something said in another sect or field in the language of your sect or field, or easiest of all, simply ignore what other people have said if it is too much like what you are trying to say. George Santyana is wide quoted in saying that 'those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.' For academics it can unfortunately be said, 'those who can successfully forget what past academics said are free to say it again, and thus advance toward tenure.' When rampant sectarianism and decline in standards of citation is combined with a broader cultural tendency to valorize self-expression and authenticity, academic work can become an exercise in abstract self expressionism.



Confining one's intellectual life within one 'ism' or sect is sure to be self-limiting. Many of the most important and interesting questions arise between and across the sects and schools. Also, there are great opportunities in learning from people who do not fully share your assumptions and approaches. Seriously engaging the work and ideas of scholars in other sects can be very very valuable. Scholars in different sects and schools are also often really taking positions that are not so different as their labels would suggest. Perhaps because my research agenda fits uncomfortably within any of the established schools and isms, I have found particularly great value in seeking out and talking on a sustained basis with people with very different approaches.





My final question is about normativity and the way that normativity is perceived: In Europe and the United States, liberal Internationalism is increasingly considered as hollowed out, as a discursive cover for a tendency to attempt to control and regulate the world—or as an unguided idealistic missile. Doesn't adapting to a post-hegemonic world require dropping such ambitions?



American foreign policy has never been entirely liberal internationalist. Many other ideas and ideologies and approaches have often played important roles in shaping US foreign policy. But the United States, for a variety of reasons, has pursued liberal internationalist foreign policy agendas more extensively, and successfully, than any other major state in the modern state system, and the world, I think, has been made better off in very important ways by these efforts.



The net impact of the United States and of American grand strategy and particularly those parts of American brand strategy that have been more liberal internationalist in their character, has been enormously positive for the world. It has produced not a utopia by any means, but has brought about an era with more peace and security, prosperity, and freedom for more people than ever before in history.



Both American foreign policy and liberal internationalism have been subject to strong attacks from a variety of perspectives. Recently some have characterized liberal internationalism as a type of American imperialism, or as a cloak for US imperialism. Virtually every aspect of American foreign policy has been contested within the United States. Liberal internationalists have been strong enemies of imperialism and military adventurism, whether American or from other states. This started with the Whig's opposition to the War with Mexico and the Progressive's opposition to the Spanish-American War, and continued with liberal opposition to the War in Vietnam.



The claim that liberal internationalism leads to or supports American imperialism has also been recently voiced by many American realists, perhaps most notably John Mearsheimer (Theory Talk #49). He and others argue that liberal internationalism played a significant role in bringing about the War on Iraq waged by the W. Bush administration. This was indeed one of the great debacles of US foreign policy. But the War in Iraq was actually a war waged by American realists for reasons grounded in realist foreign policy thinking. It is true, as Mearsheimer emphasizes, that many academic realists criticized the Bush administration's plans and efforts in the invasion in Iraq. Some self-described American liberal internationalists in the policy world supported the war, but almost all academic American liberal internationalists were strongly opposed, and much of the public opposition to the war was on grounds related to liberal internationalist ideas.



It is patently inaccurate to say that main actors in the US government that instigated the War on Iraq were liberal internationalists. The main initiators of the war were Richard Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. Whatever can be said about those two individuals, they are not liberal internationalists. They initiated the war because they thought that the Saddam Hussein regime was a threat to American interests—basically related to oil. The Saddam regime was seen as a threat to American-centered regional hegemony in the Middle East, an order whose its paramount purpose has been the protection of oil, and the protection of the regional American allies that posses oil. Saddam Hussein was furthermore a demonstrated regional revisionist likely to seek nuclear weapons, which would greatly compromise American military abilities in the region. Everything else the Bush Administration's public propaganda machine said to justify the war was essentially window dressing for this agenda. Far from being motivated by a liberal internationalist agenda the key figures in the Bush Administration viewed the collateral damage to international institutions produced by the war as a further benefit, not a cost, of the war. It is particularly ironic that John Mearsheimer would be a critic of this war, which seems in many ways a 'text book' application of a central claim of his 'offensive realism,' that powerful states can be expected, in the pursuit of their security and interests, to seek to become and remain regional hegemons.



Of course, liberal internationalism, quite aside from dealing with these gross mischaracterizations propagated by realists, must also look to the future. The liberal internationalism that is needed for today and tomorrow is going to be in some ways different from the liberal internationalism of the twentieth century. This is a large topic that many people, but not enough, are thinking about. In a recent working paper for the Council on Foreign Relations, John Ikenberry and I have laid out some ways in which we think American liberal internationalism should proceed. The starting point is the recognition that the United States is not as 'exceptional' in its precocious liberal-democratic character, not as 'indispensible' for the protection of the balance of power or the advance of freedom, or as easily 'hegemonic' as it has been historically. But the world is now also much more democratic than ever before, with democracies old and new, north and south, former colonizers and former colonies, and in every civilizational flavor. The democracies also face an array of difficult domestic problems, are thickly enmeshed with one another in many ways, and have a vital role to play in solving global problems. We suggest that the next liberal internationalism in American foreign policy should focus on American learning from the successes of other democracies in solving problems, focus on 'leading by example of successful problem-solving' and less with 'carrots and sticks,' make sustained efforts to moderate the inequalities and externalities produced by de-regulated capitalism, devote more attention to building community among the democracies, and make sustained efforts to 'recast global bargains' and the distribution of authority in global institutions to better incorporate the interests of 'rising powers.'





Daniel Deudney is Associate Professor and Director of Undergraduate Studies in Political Science at Johns Hopkins University. He has published widely in political theory and international relations, on substantive issues such as nuclear weapons, the environment as a security issue, liberal and realist international relations theory, and geopolitics.





Related links



Deudney's Faculty Profile at Johns Hopkins
Read Deudney & Ikenberry's Democratic Internationalism: An American Grand Strategy for a Post-exceptionalist Era (Council on Foreign Relations Working Paper, 2012) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney et al's Global Shift: How the West Should Respond to the Rise of China (2011 Transatlantic Academy report) here (pdf) 
Read the introduction of Deudney's Bounding Power (2007) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's Bringing Nature Back In: Geopolitical Theory from the Greeks to the Global Era (1999 book chapter) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney & Ikenberry's Who Won the Cold War? (Foreign Policy, 1992) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's The Case Against Linking Environmental Degradation and National Security (Millennium, 1990) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's Rivers of Energy: The Hydropower Potential (WorldWatch Institute Paper, 1981) here (pdf) 









Print version of this Talk (pdf)