Power Shifts, Strategy and War: Declining States and International Conflict (Routledge Global Security Studies)

Power Shifts, Strategy, and War

Marked changes in the balance of power between states in the international system are generally seen by international relations scholars as among the most common causes of war. This book explains why such power shifts lead to war breaking out in some cases but not in others. In contrast to existing approaches, highlighting technology and material power, this book argues that the military strategy of declining states is the key determinant of whether power shifts result in war or pass peacefully. More specifically, Dong Sun Lee argues that the probability of war is primarily a function of whether a declining state possesses a “maneuver strategy” or an “attrition strategy.” The argument is developed through the investigation of 14 power shifts among great powers over the past two centuries. Shifts in the balance of power and the attendant risks of war remain an enduring feature of international politics. This book argues that policy-makers need to understand the factors influencing the risk of war as a result of these changes, in particular the contemporary shifts in power resulting from the rise of China and from the growth of nuclear proliferation. This book will be of particular interest to students of strategic studies, international security, military history, and international relations in general. Dong Sun Lee is Assistant Professor of international relations at Korea University, Seoul. He has a Ph.D. in International Relations from the University of Chicago.

Routledge global security studies Edited by Aaron Karp, Regina Karp, and Terry Teriff

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Nuclear Proliferation and International Security Sverre Lodgaard and Morten Bremer Maerli

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Global Insurgency and the Future of Armed Conflict Debating fourth-generation warfare Terry Terriff, Aaron Karp and Regina Karp

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Terrorism and Weapons of Mass Destruction Responding to the challenge Edited by Ian Bellany

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Globalization and WMD Proliferation Edited by James A. Russell and Jim J. Wirtz

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Power Shifts, Strategy, and War Declining states and international conflict Dong Sun Lee

Power Shifts, Strategy, and War Declining states and international conflict

Dong Sun Lee

First published 2008 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” © 2008 Dong Sun Lee All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-93821-6 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-77338-5 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-93821-6 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-77338-6 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-93821-8 (ebk)

To My Parents

Contents

List of illustrations Acknowledgments

viii ix

1

Introduction

1

2

A strategic theory of preventive war

14

3

The Russo-German rapprochement, 1870–90

37

4

The Schlieffen Plan and World War I

56

5

Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War

88

6

Conclusion

116

Appendix: coding cases of power shifts

146

Notes Selected bibliography Index

168 193 209

Illustrations

Figure 5.1

Gross domestic product (GDP): USA and Japan, 1925–41

91

Tables 1.1 3.1 5.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 A.1 A.2 A.3 A.4

Power shifts among great powers since 1860 Army share in total state expenditure, 1881–90 Ratio of Japan’s warships to US warships Scorecard for theories of power shifts and war A description of case universe Performance of theories Testing offense–defense theory using alternative codings Distribution of military power, 1860–1941 Distribution of military power, 1946–85 Percentage distribution of gross national product (GNP) among major powers

10 42 92 117 123 124 160 161 161 164

Acknowledgments

Writing this book was like fighting a protracted war of attrition. I was truly lucky to have three distinguished advisors on my side in this lengthy struggle. John Mearsheimer inspired me with fundamental insights that guided this study from its conception. He provided invaluable guidance whenever it was needed but did not try to micromanage this project. For that I am deeply grateful. Charles Glaser never lost faith in my potential and assisted me with his incredibly detailed comments on multiple drafts. He is an exemplary scholar who has a rare combination of superb intellect and good heart. Robert Pape supported me with good doses of kind encouragement and helpful advice. He also generously allowed me to draw upon his unpublished research. I learned so much from these advisors about both international politics and excellent scholarship. This study also benefited greatly from many colleagues and institutions. Muthiah Alagappa and the East-West Center have provided an invaluable opportunity to complete this book over the past three years. My friends – Sebastian Rosato, Seth Jones, John Schuessler, Takayuki Nishi, Alex Downes, Susie Pratt, Emily Meierding, Joel Westra, Lora Viola, Milan Svolik, and Wooseon Choi, to name a few – read and commented on various parts of early drafts. I also owe an intellectual debt to other participants in the workshops and panels where parts of this study were presented. I thank Dale Copeland in particular for his useful discussions at two International Studies Association meetings and faculty members of Korea University’s Political Science Department for their helpful comments. The Korea Foundation for Advanced Studies and Program on International Security Policy at the University of Chicago provided generous financial support. I also gratefully acknowledge the editorial expertise of Andrew Humphrys, Aaron Karp, Regina Karp, and Terry Terriff and the proficient assistances of In-Seung Kay and Ryu Sun Chung with putting bibliography together. Parts of this volume appeared in somewhat different forms as articles in Asian Security and Journal of International and Area Studies. I thank both journals and the Taylor & Francis Group for granting me permission to include portions of the articles in this book. Professor Manus I. Midlarsky and Columbia University also kindly gave me permissions to reproduce materials from their volumes.

x

Acknowledgments

My greatest gratitude goes to my parents. They have made so much sacrifice to give their children the precious opportunities that they were deprived of. Without their patient support, this study would have been impossible. I dedicate this book to them as a small token of my gratitude. I also thank my wife Junyoung for her love and patience and my precious sons – Shiwoo and Shijin – for giving me smile and hope. Dong Sun Lee

1

Introduction

The question “What made war inevitable,” observed Thucydides in the fifth century B.C. about the Peloponnesian War, “was the growth of Athenian power and the fear which this caused in Sparta.”1 Many modern international relations scholars have agreed with Thucydides, arguing that marked changes in the balance of power between states are among the most common causes of war. A prominent contemporary historian notes that even today, “The causes of war remain rooted, as much as they were in the pre-industrial age, in perceptions by statesmen of the growth of hostile power and the fears for the restriction, if not the extinction, of their own.”2 While there is no question that shifts in power have sometimes caused great-power war in the past, these shifts have also passed peacefully on other occasions. For example, power decline caused Imperial Germany to wage war against Russia in 1914. In contrast, the Soviet Union responded to economic decline vis-à-vis the United States in the 1980s in a peaceful manner. My goal in this book is to explain why power shifts lead to war in some cases but not in others.3 Finding a good answer to this question is presently important, since the next few decades will likely see uneven rates of economic growth and shifts in the balance of power among major states. The relative rise of China is the most outstanding case in point. China’s economy has expanded at an annual rate of two to three times those of other major states since the 1980s. If this rapid pace of economic growth continues, the world’s most populous nation will surpass its neighbors including Japan and Russia and even catch up with the United States in the foreseeable future.4 Consequently, China may be able to construct military power that can challenge US dominance. This prospect has already begun to cause security concerns in the United States. The 2002 National Security Strategy, for instance, warned that “in pursuing advanced military capabilities that can threaten its neighbors in the Asia-Pacific region, China is following an outdated path.”5 Foreign policy experts are having a heated debate on whether China can rise peacefully. The political outcome of China’s rise will probably shape not only the future of Asia but also the world in a crucial way. As its shares of global wealth and power increase, Asia is becoming a region of critical

2

Introduction

importance to international security; China is leading the ascendance of the region. Nuclear weapons proliferation also threatens to alter the balance of power in critical regions. With the enormous destructive power of nuclear weapons, proliferators can boost their military capability markedly. Therefore, the prospect of an emerging nuclear power can provide other nations with a powerful incentive for military response as the invasion of Iraq in 2003 demonstrates.6 To take another example, as North Korea has moved closer to deploying an operational nuclear force, the United States and Japan have perceived a grave threat and considered a range of countermeasures, including a preventive attack. This is not a trivial matter: according to one estimate, an armed conflict on the Korean peninsula can claim as high as one million casualties and one trillion dollars, not counting the costs on the North Korean side. Iran is another candidate that potentially threatens to upset the power balance in the Middle East and set off a dangerous armed conflict. The United States and its allies including European states and especially Israel are concerned that Teheran may have a nuclear program with military purposes and will some day use nuclear weapons against them – most likely against Israel – directly or indirectly. It is reported that the fearful Israelis have actually planned for a preventive attack against Iran’s nuclear facilities; such an event has the potential to escalate into a larger conflict in the combustible region. Whether these proliferations of nuclear weapons will lead to wars is a critical issue with important economic and security implications, given the important roles these regions play in global commerce, finance, and/or oil supply. In short, shifts in the balance of power and the attendant risks of war remain an enduring feature of international politics and pose a great potential threat to international security in the twenty-first century. A solid analysis of this subject, therefore, is essential to understanding the direction in which the contemporary world is heading and preparing for dangers lying ahead. Also, it can contribute significantly to effective management, and possible elimination, of these critical risks by advancing our knowledge on the issue. If policy-makers understand what factors crucially shape the risk of war in the presence of power shifts and how, then they might be able to manipulate those factors and thereby prevent, for instance, China’s ascendance from leading to a major war. This significant achievement would be able to save numerous precious lives and resources for some better uses of improving the well-being of mankind. The question that this book seeks to answer has such profound practical importance.

The argument This book argues that military strategy is the key determinant of whether power shifts result in war or pass peacefully. Specifically, the probability of war is primarily a function of whether the declining state possesses a maneuver strategy or an attrition strategy. States can adopt one of two military strategies: maneuver or attrition. An attrition strategy aims to destroy the opposing army by applying

Introduction

3

brute force. The attacker fights a series of set-piece battles with the enemy’s main force and usually relies on frontal assaults. A maneuver strategy aims to exploit the weaknesses in the adversary’s war plan and force the opposing army into a strategic paralysis. To do so, the attacker either outflanks or penetrates the line of defense and disrupts the opponent’s command and control systems. The possession of a maneuver strategy increases the prospect of war by enhancing the declining state’s confidence in its military capability, accentuating its fear of losing a military opportunity, and reducing its chance of acquiring sufficient compensation from the rising state.7 If the declining state only has an attrition strategy available to it, on the other hand, war is less likely: the state has little confidence in its chance of victory and is more likely to reach a satisfactory settlement. Declining states hold the key to whether power shifts result in war or pass quietly: power shifts provide decliners with a preventive motive for war.8 As their power position deteriorates, declining states fear that they will be compelled to fight a war under worse conditions or to bargain from a position of increased weakness in the future.9 Therefore, these states have powerful incentives to stop power shifts from undermining their military capability and are inclined to seek compensation from rising competitors. Such compensation can include changes in the terms of trade, territorial concessions, transfers of technology, or arms limitation agreements. Rising states may also be asked to help decliners compete against third parties. Unless sufficient compensation is forthcoming, however, decliners may be willing to fight an early war while they stand a good chance of winning. The opposite is true for rising states: power shifts enable them to fight wars under relatively favorable conditions or to bargain from strength in the future.10 Therefore, they have incentives to delay conflict and are willing to make concessions for that purpose. Therefore, if one is to answer when power shifts lead to war, then one needs to understand the conditions under which declining states fight preventive wars. Declining states are likely to fight preventive wars under three conditions. First, the power shift must significantly undermine their military capability.11 If power decline has a major impact on their military capability, decliners will be inclined to fight an early war for fear that inaction will compromise their security interests in the long run. If declining states can maintain their military capability despite their power decline, on the other hand, there will be little reason to consider the preventive use of force. Second, declining states must have a good chance of winning a war with a rising state at an acceptable cost. For this matter, it is essential that the declining state anticipate a quick and decisive victory. Third, diplomacy must fail to yield sufficient concessions from rising competitors.12 Talking generally costs less than fighting, and therefore decliners want to avoid war if diplomacy can mitigate power decline or its strategic consequences. War is likely when states in relative decline find it too difficult to acquire adequate compensation through negotiation. Declining states’ military strategy shapes these respective conditions and thereby determines the probability of war. For this matter, it is most important

4

Introduction

whether they have a maneuver or an attrition strategy. In a nutshell, a maneuver strategy makes the war-promoting conditions abundant, whereas an attrition strategy renders them scarce. Declining states with a maneuver strategy tend to lose a large amount of military capability, because power shift frequently destroys this superior strategy’s chance of success. In contrast, decliners with an attrition strategy suffer no such loss since their strategy is not vulnerable to power decline. Therefore, only a severe decline in power can significantly undermine their military capability, while even small shifts in power can markedly reduce military capability when a maneuver strategy is employed. A maneuver strategy also presents a favorable opportunity to win a quick and decisive victory, whereas an attrition strategy often leads to long and costly wars. Finally, when decliners have a deceptive maneuver strategy, risers tend to underestimate their declining rivals’ military capability and offer insufficient compensation. In contrast, an attrition strategy facilitates the rising power’s accurate assessment of the declining power’s military strength, thereby presenting a favorable opportunity to reach a bargain. This argument makes important conceptual contributions to the scholarship of power shifts and war. The extant literature largely overlooks the role of military strategy and focuses primarily on material factors such as power and technology. While international relations scholars pay increasing attention to military strategy’s impacts on the initiation, conduct, and outcome of war, the study of power shifts has yet to incorporate their significant insights. This volume is a first such attempt. However, it is not a mere intellectual arbitrage – transferring insights from a field to another. It offers innovative arguments that will move forward a larger theoretical debate on the consequences and determinants of military strategy. For example, in exploring negotiations between decliners and risers, I present a novel argument that a maneuver strategy causes divergent understandings of military capability and thereby leads to the breakdown of diplomacy. No study has explored how maneuver and attrition strategies shape the likelihood of a negotiated settlement. The existing literature focuses mostly on their effects on deterrence – that is, military opportunity. My argument here is distinct from the popular claim that an offensive strategy creates a first-mover advantage and deprives diplomats of time to resolve crises. This common view relates to how strategy affects crisis stability, while I investigate how a particular type of strategy exacerbates the problems of asymmetric information and capability miscalculation. Thus, my analysis adds a novel perspective and moves forward theoretical understandings of the consequences of military strategy. By highlighting the diplomatic implications of military strategy, this book illuminates the understudied diplomatic dimension of the politics of preventive war. I explore the possibility that decliners extort compensation from risers, thereby mitigating their decline and avoiding war, and specify the conditions under which such an effort succeeds or fails. This approach is an improvement upon extant major works which do not account for the workings of diplomacy in the presence of power shifts.

Introduction

5

Also new to international relations scholarship is my analysis of how power shifts affect military strategies. I argue that power decline can destroy a maneuver strategy’s chance of success; therefore, a decliner possessing the strategy will likely expect to lose its superior strategy and have strong incentives for preventive action. In contrast, an attrition strategy is invulnerable – albeit sensitive – to declines in power, and therefore declining states possessing the strategy are unlikely to anticipate a huge loss of military capability and have a strong preventive motive. This analysis on interactions between power shifts and military strategy reveals a significant yet heretofore unexplored risk associated with power shifts, thereby opening up a new avenue of research. I also offer a fresh perspective on the origins of military strategy, in addition to its consequences, by bringing military leadership back into the study of strategy. My core argument on the sources of military strategy is that strategy is a function of military leadership’s attributes: the creation of a viable maneuver strategy requires superior intelligence and acumen. This novel claim challenges the conventional wisdom that strategy can be reduced to material factors such as power, technology, and geography as well as another popular view that political motive determines military strategy. In so doing, I establish that military strategy is an intellectual creation with important, independent effects. Although classical works on strategy widely accept this intuitively plausible view, modern war studies – in their overzealous pursuit of science – all too often reduce military strategy to more measurable material and political factors. My analysis on the determinants of strategy helps correct this common mistake.

The alternative arguments My central argument challenges three prominent theories of power shifts and war.13 Power transition theory offers the first systematic explanation for the outcome of power shifts. According to this theory, power shifts provide rising states with motive and opportunity for war. As their relative power grows, risers find that the status quo no longer reflects power realities closely and thus become dissatisfied. Such “dissatisfaction with the status quo provides . . . the willingness to fight a war.”14 Power shifts also make it easier for rising states to resolve their dissatisfaction through force. Therefore, “the power transition in which the dissatisfied challenger surpasses the dominant state provides the opportunity to fight.”15 In short, rising states are likely to initiate war only if two conditions are present. They are dissatisfied with their current share of benefits, and their overall power reaches parity with or surpasses declining states. The second theory, dynamic differentials theory, shares a power-centric view with its forerunner but identifies declining states as potential initiators of war and takes the role of third parties into consideration.16 Dale Copeland argues that two conditions may likely lead to preventive war. The first condition is related to the opportunity for war. For preventive war to occur in a multipolar international system, the declining state must possess “marked military superiority” over every other state. Without such superior military force, the declining state will

6

Introduction

have to fight long and costly wars and will lose too much power vis-à-vis states sitting on the sidelines. Marked military superiority is also necessary to defeat a hostile coalition that might form around the rising state. In a bipolar world, preventive war is an appealing option even when the declining state is nearly equal in military power to its rising competitor, since there are no bystanders to exploit a long and costly fight. Moreover, it is impossible for the riser to put together a powerful coalition in this circumstance. Therefore, while the decliner may desire marked military superiority over its rivals, it does not need it in order to secure a fair chance of victory. The second condition relates to the motive for war. According to dynamic differentials theory, the declining state is willing to initiate war when military decline is severe and inevitable in the absence of forceful actions. War is often a risky and costly venture. Therefore, the declining state will launch a preventive attack only if it appears impossible to stop losing a considerable amount of power without resorting to force. The polarity of the international system determines how much loss of power is enough to trigger war. In multipolarity, the declining state must anticipate that the rising state will likely obtain marked military superiority. Without such superiority, concerns about bystanders and potential counter-coalitions will deter the riser and the decliner need not fear the future. In a bipolar system, however, the prospect of military parity can push the declining state toward preventive war, since the rising state will have no reason to fear bystanders and counter-coalitions. Finally, offense–defense theory eschews the power-centric view and instead highlights the impact of the offense–defense balance on the likelihood for war. This theory posits that preventive war is likely when offense has the advantage over defense.17 If offense is dominant, military decline can considerably diminish the declining state’s ability to defend itself from the rising state’s future attack. Therefore, the decliner will have powerful incentives to take quick military action. Offense-dominance also presents the declining state with a favorable opportunity for preventive attack. Finally, it is difficult to reach diplomatic agreements when offense is dominant.18 Since a small power edge can be converted into a large capability gain when offense dominates, the rising state is less willing to make concessions. The declining state may also be more fearful of being cheated and thus less inclined to commit to a bargain. In addition, offensedominance creates a strong incentive to move first and deprives diplomats of valuable negotiating time during crises. In contrast, if defense dominates offense, the declining state will be able to fend off the rising state’s future attacks in spite of military decline. Consequently, the decliner has little incentive for preventive war. Even if decline is so severe that there exists a strong motive for war, defense-dominance would make preventive attack unsuccessful and costly and thus discourage any such attempt. The above-mentioned obstacles to diplomatic settlement are also absent in a defense-favoring environment. All these extant theories have serious, fundamental flaws in their logic, which justify developing a novel alternative. Power transition theory is based on a

Introduction

7

questionable assumption that the potential initiator of war is the rising state rather than the declining state. According to this theory, dissatisfaction with the status quo gives the riser an incentive to fight, whereas the decliner “values the status quo and does not seek gains by attacking a still-weaker-but-rising challenger.”19 In short, only the dissatisfied challenger has a motive for war. However, this account tells us only half of the story at best. As its power grows, the rising state will become more capable of winning the war.20 Moreover, “when the challenger becomes preponderant, it will extract concessions that can no longer be resisted by the previously dominant nation” and thus will not even need to fight a risky war.21 Therefore, the rising state has a strong incentive to avoid or at least delay a military showdown. As for the declining state, its satisfaction with the status quo and the prospect of its overthrow can create a strong motive for preventive war.22 Given the challenger’s dissatisfaction, the decliner may well anticipate the adversary’s bid for revision of the status quo. Therefore, it may feel forced to remove the potential threat to the status quo while the opportunity is still available, even if it does not seek additional gains. Power transition theory also falsely assumes that the balance of aggregate power is the prime determinant of military opportunity. A.F.K. Organski and Jacek Kugler posit that states always calculate the likelihood and cost of victory by comparing overall national power indicators such as gross national product (GNP). They argue that GNP closely reflects “the population of working and fighting ages,” “the levels of available technology, education, capital intensity,” and “the capacity of a society to pay for external security.”23 There is no doubt that such factors largely determine the outcome in a long war of attrition. However, overall power may not prove critical in a short war where belligerents have little time to mobilize the population and economy and to convert them into military power. Therefore, overall power is not a highly reliable predictor of war outcomes as credible research shows.24 Finally, power transition theory fails to explain the rising state’s evaluation of the status quo. Few people will dispute the claim that a satisfied state will rarely initiate war. However, this proposition will remain an uninteresting truism until the theory explicates why a state becomes satisfied or dissatisfied in the first place. If it is agreed that few inter-state relations are entirely devoid of conflicting interests, satisfaction with the status quo will depend partly on how effectively states can resolve conflicts through diplomatic means. Power transition theory fails to specify the conditions under which the rising state acquires a satisfactory diplomatic settlement.25 Until a good answer is offered, the theory will not be free from the criticism that the riser’s attitude toward the status quo serves as an ad hoc explanation for cases of peaceful power transition. Dynamic differentials theory improves upon its predecessor by correctly pointing to declining states as potential initiators of war, but it nevertheless has significant flaws in its logic. First, it is predicated on the questionable premise that “[military] equality with its rivals will likely mean long and costly bilateral wars.”26 States can often devise a clever strategy, thereby defeating equal or even materially superior opponents.27 In other words,

8

Introduction

marked material superiority is not a necessary condition for a swift and cheap victory. To take a notable example, Nazi Germany employed an innovative military doctrine and won the “Battle of France” decisively against equally matched foes in 1940.28 Second, the theory fails to explain why the declining state ever needs to actually use its markedly superior military power in a multipolar environment. Geoffrey Blainey reports that wars tend to occur when all participants are optimistic about the outcome of a war.29 Any pessimistic party will simply yield to its opponents and avoid costly fighting. When the decliner is markedly superior, it is unlikely that its adversary is optimistic about its chances in a military confrontation, if military power determines the chance of victory. Therefore, the riser will likely offer considerable concessions to avoid war. Dynamic differentials theory does not explain why diplomacy fails precisely when it holds such promise for success. Copeland tries to solve this puzzle by highlighting the lack of “trust under anarchy.”30 This inclusion, however, still fails to resolve the issue because he does not specify when the problem worsens or ameliorates. Therefore, dynamic differentials theory cannot explain why diplomacy sometimes succeeds but fails at other times. Offense–defense theory offers logically superior explanations for military and diplomatic opportunities than its power-centered competitors. Nonetheless, this theory has an important logical loophole: the offense–defense balance fails to explain the motive for preventive actions adequately. Offensive advantage refers to a situation where “it is easier to destroy the other’s army and take its territory than it is to defend one’s own.”31 Given this definition, it may be true that military decline considerably decreases a state’s defensive capability when offense is dominant. However, if the offense–defense balance is such a powerful determinant of military strategy as the theory argues, a rational decliner will surely adopt an offensive strategy rather than a defensive one in a later war. Therefore, it is irrelevant that defensive capability significantly diminishes as the result of power decline. The decliner must compare its current offensive capability with its future offensive capability. Therefore, offense-dominance hardly makes power decline more threatening than defense-dominance does. Furthermore, to the extent that the offense–defense balance can override power, shifts in power will do little harm to the declining state planning for an offensive assault in a future war. The above review of literature suggests important caveats for theorizing about power shifts and war. First of all, it pays to focus on declining states’ decision calculus. Rising states are willing to avoid war if possible because they will be more powerful in the future. Therefore, if power shifts ever bring about war, it will be driven by decliners’ fear of future losses. Second, it is important to build a comprehensive theory that adequately addresses all the key conditions for preventive war. Such a theory will tell us how and why its chosen causal factors shape the decliner’s motive for war as well as opportunities for war and diplomacy. This book offers the first theory that meets all these requirements, an important scholarly contribution in itself.

Introduction

9

The evidence This book tests my strategy-centered theory against its three prominent alternatives by investigating a universe of power shifts among great powers over the past two centuries. The case universe includes 14 great-power dyads in which the weaker state went through no less than 20 percent change in gross domestic product (GDP) relative to its stronger rival for approximately a decade.32 I investigate long-term shifts in the balance of economic power because such changes transform the balance of power in the most fundamental and farreaching way. Since wealth underpins military power, shifts in economic power in the long run lead to parallel changes in military balance.33 In contrast, military shifts often do not cause economic shifts. A military decliner has a fair chance to reverse the trend insofar as its economy remains competitive, whereas an economic decliner often cannot expect to stop a corresponding military decline through internal efforts.34 Moreover, although perception does not perfectly match reality, policy-makers rarely misperceive such significant long-term power shifts as investigated by this book. My case studies presented in the subsequent chapters support these propositions. In all these examined cases, shifts in economic power coincided with changes in military balance. Germany (1890–1914), Russia (1870–90), and Japan (1933–41) and their respective rivals all did not fail to perceive these power shifts. I also restrict my study to power shifts among great powers, since decisions for war of lesser powers are often considerably influenced by leading powers’ preferences apart from dyad-specific conditions. Strong external interference may confound the causal effects of the dyadic factors that the competing theories hypothesize about. Accepting conventional wisdom, I view the following states as great powers during the investigated period 1860–1985: Russia (1860–1985), Britain (1860–1945), Germany (1860–1945), France (1860–1940), Austria-Hungary (1860–1918), Italy (1861–1943), the United States (1865–1985), and Japan (1894–1945).35 I only examine the cases in which strategic planners of the declining state regarded the riser as the main foe in a given region of their interest: these are the most politically relevant cases where power shifts have a serious potential to ignite war. The decliner views the main adversary as posing the greatest (potential) security threat usually because of its hostile political intention and great military strength.36 Therefore, power declines relative to such a state can potentially pose a critical threat to security, creating a strong motive for preventive action and increasing the risk of war. On the other hand, there is no compelling reason to fear declines vis-à-vis states with little hostile intent – for instance, strategic partners – because they will not challenge the decliner’s security interests. Also, the increasing power of secondary adversaries is unlikely to generate a significant incentive for preventive war, because they might be unable to pose a serious challenge and/or the primary threat would overshadow these lesser concerns. Since power shifts do not threaten peace to a serious extent in these

10

Introduction

latter situations, there is no pressing analytical reason to investigate these cases of minimal relevance. I also do not consider a loser of full-scale war for the first five post-war years, assuming that it may take this long to recover from a major defeat and play an active role in the international arena. Table 1.1 lists all the cases that meet the above-mentioned criteria. This rule of case selection is innovative in two respects. First, it does not rely on the dependent variable (war), so causal inferences are free of selection bias.37 Such procedure is a significant improvement upon the qualitative literature, which commonly selects cases on the dependent variable and is thus plagued with the problem of selection bias. Second, this study takes cases of power shifts rather than arbitrarily chosen intervals as unit of analysis. Therefore, I overcome the shortcomings of quantitative research that mistakenly includes irrelevant intervals during which no power shifts occurred and decomposes a single case of power shift into several shifts.38 This book analyzes these data in two ways to evaluate my argument. I first conduct in-depth comparative historical analyses on three crucial cases: the Russo-German rapprochement during the Bismarckian era, World War I, and World War II in the Pacific. This method establishes credible causal relationships between the variables of interest and guards against the possibility of spurious correlations. These case studies will investigate whether policy-makers decided for or against preventive war for the reasons my theory hypothesizes.39 In analyzing the case of German decline vis-à-vis Russia between 1890 and 1914, for example, I will investigate whether their maneuver strategy imbued the Germans with military optimism as my theory predicts. In doing so, I will Table 1.1 Power shifts among great powers since 1860 Region

The declining state

The rising state

Period

Europe

France Russia France Germany Britain Austria-Hungary Germany France Britain United States Soviet Union

Germany Germany Germany Russia Germany Russia Soviet Union Germany Germany Soviet Union United States

1860–70 1870–90 1880–1914 1890–1914 1890–1914 1890–1914 1925–41 1929–39 1925–39 1946–61 1970–85

Asia

Japan Japan

Russia United States

1880–1904 1933–41

America

Britain

United States

1860–1914

Note The cases in italics will be subject to detailed historical analyses.

Introduction

11

also pay close attention to the possibility that any military confidence originated from power and the offense–defense balance instead of the maneuver strategy. In addition to these detailed case studies, I take the entire case universe and establish correlations between the indicators of each theory and the incidence of war and peace. This method makes my findings generalizable across diverse periods and regions. I also offer a comparative evaluation of the alternative arguments. No book on preventive war pits its central argument against major alternative theories and compares their relative strengths and weaknesses. Dale Copeland’s Origins of Major Wars simply ignores, for example, Stephen Van Evera’s widely known argument that highlights technology and geography; Van Evera’s Causes of War similarly does not pit its theory against alternatives. By adopting a much-needed comparative approach, this book takes an important step toward the accumulation of scientific knowledge. In order to test the competing theories, I devise innovative measures for key concepts and generate new detailed data. My original codings of offense– defense balance – a concept notoriously difficult to measure – are arguably among the most transparent and systematic found in the extant literature. My composite index of military power also provides a systematic way to measure relative military strength between declining and rising states. In addition, I discuss what maneuver and attrition mean in naval, air, nuclear, as well as land warfare and present detailed procedures for categorizing military strategies.

The plan of the book The remainder of this book is organized as follows. Chapter 2 lays out my theory that explains how military strategy determines the political outcome of power shifts. I first define maneuver and attrition strategies, then explain how their distinct characteristics shape the conditions for preventive war, and finally explore how the attributes of military leadership shape strategy. The subsequent three chapters evaluate empirical support for my theory and its alternatives, by analyzing three important historical cases in detail. In Chapter 3, I explain Russia’s peaceful decline vis-à-vis Bismarck’s Germany between 1870 and 1890 as a consequence of its attrition strategy. This case presents a stark contrast to the case of World War I analyzed in Chapter 4: a declining Russia was adequately compensated between 1870 and 1890 and therefore did not launch a preventive war. Russia’s possession of an attrition strategy during these years explains these events. The attrition strategy promised a long and costly war, which did not seem markedly more attractive than a future war of attrition. Therefore, Russian leaders concluded that power decline would cause no marked decrease in military capability and had only a moderate motive for preventive war. In addition, Russia could acquire acceptable compensation and reach a durable settlement because Russia’s attrition strategy encouraged caution and conciliation in St. Petersburg. Also, Russia did not consider preventive war despite its significant power decline because its attrition strategy

12

Introduction

engendered military pessimism. Although Russia was not entirely satisfied with Germany’s concessions, the attrition strategy discouraged Russia from initiating a war. Russia was forced to adopt the attrition strategy because its military leaders, lacking superior strategic knowledge, were unable to create a viable maneuver strategy against Germany. This chapter also investigates how the offense–defense and power balances, respectively, shaped Russia’s military plan and policy toward Germany. In Chapter 4, I investigate whether their maneuver-centered “Schlieffen Plan” led the declining Germans to initiate war against the rising Russians in the summer of 1914 for the reasons my theory predicts. I argue that Germany’s leaders feared losing the opportunity to carry out the maneuver-oriented Schlieffen Plan and therefore had a strong preventive motive. Moreover, diplomacy failed because French and Russian understandings of the Schlieffen Plan imbued them with a false sense of military superiority and prevented them from making concessions to alleviate German decline. Finally, possession of the Schlieffen Plan convinced German leaders that they could win a quick and decisive victory, thereby increasing their perception of their opportunity for war. I also show that the German general staff’s superb intelligence and acumen played an indispensable role in the creation of the maneuver strategy while the offense–defense balance and political motives had little impact. This chapter also evaluates explanations for the outbreak of World War I offered by the three alternative theories. In the case study of the outbreak of the Pacific War presented in Chapter 5, I trace the fateful political consequences of Japan’s maneuver-centered naval war plan against the United States. Imperial Japan was declining between 1933 and 1941, and had a strong preventive motive in part because it feared losing its maneuver strategy. Tokyo first sought a negotiated settlement with Washington in order to mitigate its power decline. However, diplomatic efforts did not prove fruitful, as the United States imposed harsh conditions on Japan and Tokyo was confident enough to reject them. The deadlock came about because Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto’s maneuver strategy ironically imbued both countries with military confidence. With diplomacy hopeless, Japanese leaders decided to launch a preventive attack anticipating that their maneuver strategy could produce a quick and decisive victory. The maneuver-centered Pearl Harbor attack plan was only made possible by Admiral Yamamoto’s exceptional acumen and critical advantage in intelligence. This chapter demonstrates the validity of the maneuver/attrition framework in conceptualizing maritime strategy. These case studies present new interpretations of important historical events. For example, its analysis of the Pacific War is unique in documenting the critical role that the Pearl Harbor attack plan played in Japanese decision-making in 1941. In assessing the political consequences of the Schlieffen Plan, I focus on its deceptive nature while other accounts highlight its offensive orientation. I also explain the Bismarckian peace by analyzing its deeper strategic underpinnings rather than by examining diplomatic maneuvers on the surface. These

Introduction

13

new interpretations, combined with distinctive narratives, tell new and original stories regarding these important events. Chapter 6 recaps major findings of historical analysis and surveys the entire universe of cases to probe the generalizability of my argument. I also draw the findings’ implications for international relations theory and apply my theory to understand contemporary US politics of preventive war vis-à-vis emergent nuclear powers. I explain why the Bush administration fought a preventive war against Iraq, while resorting to diplomatic means to disarm North Korea and Iran. My basic argument is that this variation is a product of the different military strategies available to Washington regarding these three countries. I argue that the Bush administration fought a preventive war against Iraq because it had a maneuver strategy, while it resorted to diplomatic means to disarm North Korea and Iran because its only viable option was an attrition strategy. The concluding chapter also addresses important issues related to the rise of China and its impact on US–China relations. I argue that the rising China will act like a status quo state for years to come, only to switch to an aggressive foreign policy when its relative power position begins to erode. On the other hand, the United States will act with increasing forcefulness as China’s rise in power continues. The chance of war between these countries will depend crucially upon United States’ ability to create an effective maneuver strategy against China. A major war seems highly unlikely because a nuclear maneuver is extremely difficult. However, it is not entirely out of the question since the US military has superior intelligence capability and strategic acumen.

2

A strategic theory of preventive war

This chapter offers a theory that explains how military strategies render power shifts more or less dangerous. I first describe the key characteristics of maneuver and attrition strategies and then show how these shape the three conditions conducive to preventive war. These analyses combine to produce a couple of original hypotheses that predict when power shifts are war-prone: 1 2

if the declining state has a maneuver strategy, then power shifts will result in war if the state has an attrition strategy, then power shifts will pass without war.

I then extend the scope of my theory to cover coalition, nuclear, naval, and air warfare by classifying relevant strategies. The final section explores sources of military strategy, critiquing widely accepted conventional wisdoms and presenting a novel argument centered on the qualities of military leadership.

Classification of military strategy This study categorizes military strategy into two types, each a distinct way of defeating enemies: maneuver strategies and attrition strategies. I do not treat socalled strategies of “limited aims” and “punishment” as distinct types.1 Whereas maneuver and attrition strategies are defined in terms of operational methods, the “limited aims strategy” relates to the scope of war aims.2 Both maneuver and attrition strategies can be employed to fight a war of limited aims. A “punishment strategy” is simply a variant of attrition strategy that attacks the morale of a population and troops thereby wearing down military power. My discussion here focuses on plans for ground operations and their political effects. The reason is that the outcome of war is usually determined through the clash of opposing armies on the battlefield. As John Mearsheimer argues, “Land power is the most formidable kind of conventional military power available to states.”3 I examine naval, air, and nuclear strategies later in this chapter. I also discuss maneuver and attrition strategies in the context of offensive operations. The two concepts can be used to characterize both offensive and defensive strategies. However, preventive war most often begins as the declining

A strategic theory of preventive war

15

state takes the initiative and engages in offensive operations. The decliner may likely be the attacker at least in the initial phase of war, since the riser often has little political incentive to rush into an attack. Therefore, it makes sense to focus on offensive operations to keep the discussion parsimonious. The attrition strategy An attrition strategy aims at “the destruction of the enemy’s forces” by means of brute force.4 It is predicated on the Clausewitzian maxim: “destruction of the enemy forces is always the superior, more effective means, with which others cannot compete.”5 If the attacker brings the opposing army to collapse, the adversary will be powerless and compelled to accept whatever peace terms the attacker dictates. The most common method to achieve this strategic aim is often considered to be fighting a series of set-piece battles with the enemy’s main forces.6 The attacker concentrates its forces and strikes directly at the enemy strong points where a large number of opposing forces are deployed. Bloody battles will continue until cumulated casualties force the adversary to collapse or capitulate in anticipation of inevitable annihilation. The attacker needs to bring about this outcome before costly battles lead to its own collapse. The attrition strategy for success depends on three factors, which belong to a rough category of overall power superiority.7 One critical element is quantitative superiority in armed forces as well as national wealth and population. Since the key to victory is to outlast the enemy in attrition warfare, numerical superiority is indispensable under usual circumstances. When the armies of similar quality confront each other, the chance of victory favors the side that can pour more troops and equipment into the battlefields. Therefore, it is important to deploy a larger force than the opponent. Since military power is in turn a long-term function of wealth and manpower, the strategy’s success depends upon the superior size of the economy and population as well. Second, a favorable loss exchange ratio often makes a decisive contribution to the strategy’s success. Given numerical parity, war will be lost if one side incurs losses faster than the adversary does; victory will belong to the side capable of destroying the enemy more efficiently. Even in case the attacker enjoys numerical superiority, high destructive efficiency reduces losses in valuable lives and materiel. Finally, superior training and morale also help win a war of attrition to a significant extent. Military units can sustain considerable casualties and still maintain combat capacity to the extent that their troops are better trained and motivated. High morale and discipline also make it easier to reorganize the battle-worn units into effective fighting forces. Soldiers’ morale in turn reflects that of the general population in the long run. The maneuver strategy The maneuver strategy aims to defeat enemy forces decisively through strategic paralysis.8 The essence of this strategy is to exploit the “Achilles’ heel” in the

16

A strategic theory of preventive war

adversary’s war plan and entrap the opposing army into a hopeless strategic situation.9 Once the opponent falls into such a trap, its both psychological and physical capacity for organized resistance will be seriously impaired. Consequently, the adversary will be forced to surrender or face certain destruction. Sun Tzu well described this strategy when he wrote: “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill. Thus what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy’s strategy.”10 In Carl von Clausewitz’s words, a maneuver strategy represents a clever method of “inflicting minor direct damage on the enemy’s forces to lead to major indirect destruction; or . . . such paralysis of the enemy’s forces and control of his will-power as to constitute a significant shortcut to victory.”11 It is almost impossible to entrap the entire enemy army in the real world, although this remains the strategy’s ideal goal. In practice, a maneuver strategy often intends to paralyze a critical portion of the opponent thereby gaining “an overwhelming advantage in forces” in the theater of operation.12 Once such superiority is achieved, the attacker will be able to defeat any surviving forces and reinforcements with no great difficulty. This moderate goal often proves to be the best practical option when the defender’s strategic center is located in a remote area or when the enemy forces are scattered widely. For example, Japan could merely hope to entrap a large portion of the Russian Far Eastern forces in 1904, since Russia’s strategic center lay far away in Europe and even its local forces were widely scattered over the region. Nevertheless, Japan could still have won a swift victory if it had defeated the enemy local forces quickly through maneuver thereby achieving overwhelming local superiority as planned. Modern armed forces tend to share a vital yet vulnerable point in common: the systems of command, control, and communication (C3). Given its size and complexity, modern military organization cannot coordinate its components effectively in pursuit of strategic aims, once the C3 networks are disrupted or cut off.13 Even though individual units may choose to fight independently, their efforts will not prove effective for a long time, as the systemic disruption gradually depletes the troops’ morale and physical strength. Because of such importance, the C3 systems are concentrated in a base of operations located behind frontline forces for security. Therefore, a maneuver strategy usually seeks to cut off the enemy forces from their base of operations or destroy the base itself by reaching the enemy’s rear area quickly and directly.14 Colin Powell epitomized this essence of maneuver strategy when he described the coalition war plan during the 1991 Gulf War: “Our strategy in going after this [Iraqi] army is very simple. First we are going to cut it off [from its base], and then we are going to kill it.”15 Armies can reach the enemy rear quickly with only minimal contact with the opponent’s main forces in one of two ways. One method is to outflank the defense and strike at the enemy’s rear where the C3 networks lie.16 The offensive often begins as “fixing” attacks are launched against the enemy’s main defense line. These frontal assaults intend to confirm the adversary’s false presumption of the attacker’s strategic intention or draw a counterattack thereby

A strategic theory of preventive war

17

preventing the enemy from reinforcing its flank. As the diversionary attacks unfold, the mobile forces turn around the enemy’s flank and disrupt the C3 networks in the rear. The German Schlieffen Plan is one of the best-known cases of this method’s application. In 1914, the German general staff planned to defeat France quickly and decisively before the Russians fully mobilized troops and put pressure on the East. To attain this goal, the main body of German forces would sweep through Belgium and then advance straight toward Paris, arguably the keystone of the French C3 system. The French main forces, deployed along the German–French frontier, would be entrapped and annihilated between Paris and the border. The other way to reach the enemy rear is to penetrate the defense line.17 The attacker first rips apart the frontline at a few points and then inserts mobile forces through the holes. The mobile forces advance straight to strategic objectives deep in the enemy rear as rapidly as possible bypassing enemy strong points whenever possible. The roles of pitched battles are limited to making initial breakthroughs and diverting enemy forces away from the main axis of attack. In modern warfare, the spearheads of mobile thrusts usually consist of large mechanized units equipped with a substantial number of tanks. Tanks are often regarded as ideal weapons for such tasks because they can provide sufficient speed, protection, and firepower simultaneously. World War II saw the first full application of penetration maneuver combined with tanks. In May 1940, the German Panzer divisions penetrated the Allied defense line through the lightly guarded Ardennes forest and swiftly advanced toward the English Channel.18 The Germans thus entrapped and annihilated the bulk of the Allied forces in northeastern France. With their lines of communication cut off, the Allied forces could not rebuild a coordinated defense. The battle of France was over in six weeks. The maneuver strategy depends on four elements for success. One important requirement is good intelligence.19 The essence of the strategy is to exploit the adversary’s weaknesses. Therefore, the attacker needs to know what they are in advance. Otherwise, the offensive would be bogged down to a stalemate in the face of unexpectedly strong resistance. As the prospect of outflanking or deep penetration dissipates, the attacker would then be forced to fight a war of attrition at least temporarily until “true” weak points are discovered. Sun Tzu seems to have had the importance of intelligence in mind when he wrote: “Know the enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles you will never be in peril.”20 Second, the attacker must catch the defender off balance through strategic deception.21 As Sun Tzu put it, a successful maneuver needs to “take advantage of the enemy’s unpreparedness; travel by unexpected routes and strike him where he has taken no precautions.”22 If the attacker’s strategic intention is known, the defender can reinforce the sectors where main thrusts are planned and check the opponent’s flanking or penetration attempts. As Frederick the Great said, “if you form the finest plans in the world but divulge them, your enemy will learn about them, and then it will be very easy for him to parry them.”23 The attacker’s success continues to depend on deception in a later stage

18

A strategic theory of preventive war

of exploitation.24 The mobile force cannot but render itself vulnerable to counterattack in an effort to maximize its rate of advance. Its security depends mostly on the defender’s ignorance of its intentions, which is in large part a result of deceptive measures. Therefore, a maneuver strategy can succeed only to the extent that the attacker is able to disguise its strategic intentions. As such, a maneuver strategy’s success depends heavily on effective intelligence and deception, which together enable the attacker to force the adversary into a trap and paralysis. Therefore, one can characterize the strategy as “knowledge-dependent” while an attrition strategy is “resource-based.”25 Third, the attacking forces need to have sufficient strategic mobility. As the operation unfolds, the defender will sooner or later find out what the attacker intends to do. The defender will then reinforce the areas where flanking or penetration is attempted. Only rapid movement enables the attacking forces to reach strategic objectives in the enemy rear before the reinforcements arrive there. Speed also helps the attacking forces to concentrate at a critical location and time swiftly and achieve local superiority before the opponent makes effective responses. Strategic mobility depends not only on the mechanical capacity of transportation but also on the organizational capability of acquiring and processing information accurately and quickly, which enables the attacker to make timely and adequate operational decisions.26 The maneuver strategy does not require superior mobility for its success, however. Since effective deception allows a head start and an early lead, a successful maneuver is possible unless the attacker suffers from markedly inferior mobility. Finally, the attacker needs to have enough power to maintain a strong maneuver force and insure safety on secondary fronts. Over the course of operation, the mobile force will become weaker due to combat casualties, fatigue, mechanical failures, logistical difficulties, and the masking of enemy strong points. Therefore, a successful maneuver requires military strength that can sustain powerful mobile thrusts until entrapment is completed. In addition, the attacker must be capable of defending secondary fronts until the maneuver forces deliver a knockout blow to the adversary. The attacker sometimes leaves a secondary front thinly guarded thereby luring the enemy deeper into a trap. It is, however, still necessary to maintain sizable forces to avoid outright routs along the front. As such, a maneuver strategy needs considerable military power, although it is not so heavily resource dependent as the attrition strategy that requires marked power superiority for success.

Military strategy and conditions for preventive war The declining state’s military strategy significantly shapes the three key conditions for preventive war: opportunity for war, opportunity for diplomacy, and preventive motive. To use social scientific terminology, these conditions function as “intervening variables” that transmit the causal effects of military strategy onto the probability of preventive war. This section shows how the characteristics of maneuver and attrition strategies shape these conditions

A strategic theory of preventive war

19

respectively. In other words, it depicts why each strategy type causes distinct values on the intervening variables. Opportunity for war Military strategy shapes the opportunity for the declining state to win a war at an acceptable cost.27 The declining state will not launch a preventive attack unless it anticipates a swift victory.28 A long war will force it to mobilize its population and economy to achieve military superiority. Such mobilization will in turn incur costly dislocations in domestic socioeconomic orders. Moreover, to the extent that the attacker’s economy depends on foreign trade and capital, a protracted war can incur substantial opportunity costs by disrupting international economic interaction. A long war also offers an opportunity for third-party interventions and renders victory highly uncertain.29 Even if the attacker manages to attain its military aims, high fighting and socioeconomic costs may only allow a Pyrrhic victory and put it in a vulnerable strategic position vis-à-vis neutral states. An attrition strategy offers the attacker low odds of a swift victory. Wars of attrition often drag on for a long time without a decisive outcome.30 To the extent that the attacker successfully inflicts heavy losses on the opponent, the defender will break off engagements, retreat toward the interior, and reorganize its defense. Therefore, a quick decision is possible only if the attacker exploits initial tactical successes and causes the breakup of the defending army.31 Attacking forces need to batter the retreating enemy continually without allowing enough time for it to regroup. The attrition strategy, however, relies mainly upon frontal attacks and thus cannot stop the routed enemy from fleeing the battlefield and reorganizing its defense. Consequently, the attacker may end up chasing the opposing forces along a broad front for a lengthy period. The attacker will thus push the opponent back slowly rather than annihilate it.32 Such a long campaign can give other states enough time to intervene on behalf of the defender thereby making the prospect for victory uncertain. The fact that a successful attrition strategy relies heavily on battles as a means to disarm the adversary also makes the prospect for victory bleak. As Clausewitz put it, “tactical successes are of paramount importance in war” when the attrition strategy is employed.33 In general, tactical success comes at a higher price for the attacker than the defender. In the battlefield, the attacker almost always suffers greater losses than the defending forces that can cover and conceal themselves in prepared positions. Therefore, the attacker will be unable to defeat the defender decisively in a war of attrition, unless marked material superiority compensates for natural disadvantage. However, such material imbalances may be quite rare among major powers, because there is a strong tendency for balancing behavior in the international system.34 Even if marked imbalance emerges at the onset of war, it will likely disappear sooner or later as third parties intervene to correct it. An attrition strategy also tends to be quite costly for several reasons.35 First of

20

A strategic theory of preventive war

all, it often incurs considerable loss of troops and materiel because the attacker strikes at the enemy strong points.36 High fighting costs cannot be avoided unless the attacker has markedly superior technology or training that renders the loss exchange ratio extremely favorable. In addition, socioeconomic costs are considerable because an attrition strategy leads to a protracted war. As fighting continues, belligerents may be forced to mobilize civilian populations to meet increasing demands for manpower. Such mobilization often encourages the underprivileged to claim higher social status in exchange for their service and thus leads to the displacement of antebellum social orders.37 The high level of wartime mobilization also tends to decrease social cohesion.38 In a long war, states also need to shift from peacetime to wartime production and reverse this transition at the end of war. Such industrial readjustments carry a variety of economic costs. Moreover, to the extent that the declining state depends on foreign trade and capital, a protracted war incurs substantial costs from international economic dislocation. While fighting lasts, the decliner will be denied full access to the riser’s markets and goods/services.39 Blockades might also disrupt beneficial economic interactions with neutral states. The declining state may also need to increase the imports of war materiel or essential consumer goods such as foodstuffs from third parties thereby losing overseas markets to neutral competitors. Consequently, a long war may likely benefit the neutral states economically, further undermining the decliner’s power position in the international system.40 In contrast, a maneuver strategy can promise a swift victory. This strategy aims to force the opponents into a strategic “trap” and neutralize it. Once they fall into such a trap, the enemy forces cannot retreat deep into the interior for reorganization because its paths for retreat are already blocked. A lengthy pursuit will therefore be unnecessary. Also, the entrapped opponent may be unable to put up an effective fight, because its lines of communication are cut off and its command and control systems are disrupted. A “sense of being trapped” can bring “psychological dislocation” to the enemy commander’s mind and lead to surrender.41 If so, the attacker can terminate the war quickly without fighting time-consuming battles. Even if the entrapped forces continue to resist, the attacker will fight with a significantly weakened enemy under severe logistical strains. A near-complete stop of supplies will deplete the entrapped troops’ morale and physical strength. A maneuver strategy also promises a cheap victory for two reasons. First, fighting costs may not be substantial. If entrapment forces the defender into surrender, battles will be largely limited to engagements directly involved in outflanking or penetrating the enemy defense. Strategic deception allows the attacker to choose the time and location of these critical battles thereby achieving local military superiority. Therefore, casualties and materiel losses will not be substantial in these engagements. Even if the defending forces continue to fight despite entrapment, mopping them up will not be too costly given their psychological and physical distress. Second, the attacker with a maneuver strategy can avoid socioeconomic

A strategic theory of preventive war

21

dislocations, since this strategy makes possible a quick termination of war. The attacker need not mobilize population and adjust industrial production and thus can avoid domestic disruptions. A short war also makes it possible to minimize the disruption of international economic interactions and the danger of benefiting neutral states. In sum, possession of a maneuver strategy implies a favorable opportunity for war, while an attrition strategy does not. A maneuver strategy promises a quick victory by paralyzing the opponent, while an attrition strategy implies a long campaign. Moreover, states that adopt a maneuver strategy can expect to incur few battlefield and socioeconomic costs, while those that have attrition strategies are likely to suffer substantial losses both on the battlefield and on the home front. Some critics call into question this notion that maneuver is a superior method of warfare. They point out that a maneuver strategy has one important downside: it entails high risk. According to Edward Luttwak, for example, “attrition is warfare paid at full cost but of low risk, whereas relational maneuver can be of low cost but may entail high risks.”42 This strategy is supposed to fail “catastrophically” when things go wrong. I find this concern for high risk much exaggerated. Maneuver strategies are no riskier than attrition strategies, to say the least. This point is obvious when three scenarios of unsuccessful maneuvers are examined. In one scenario of failure, initial thrusts meet unexpectedly strong resistance and come to a standstill; the attacker is forced to fight a war of attrition or seek a diplomatic solution. Such lost breakthrough battles, however, will rarely entail greater losses than any set-piece battle in a war of attrition. In a more dangerous scenario, the attacker achieves breakthroughs and advances into the enemy rear; the defender somehow anticipates the main axis of attack correctly and cuts off its lines of communication. The extant scholarship, however, shows that such a catastrophic failure is rare in practice.43 Deceptive measures normally produce a meaningful degree of strategic surprise. Therefore, the most realistic worst-case scenario may be that the defender swiftly retreats and counterattacks the attacker’s exposed flanks. Even in this case, however, the attacker will not incur significantly greater costs than did the defender in its preceding retreat, even if successful counterattacks force the attacker to retreat in haste. In conclusion, there is no reason to believe that a failed maneuver strategy has a disastrous effect on the attacker’s military position. Instead, it is likely that unsuccessful maneuvers will result in roughly equal losses for both belligerents. Critics also fail to recognize that an attrition strategy entails its own risks. Since the attacker incurs higher casualties than the defender in set-piece battles, the risk of collapsing before the enemy does always lurks behind an attrition strategy.44 An indecisive strategic offensive can reach the “culminating point,” beyond which the attacker is unable to fend off a forceful counterattack.45 If the attacker indeed collapses before the opponent does, it will be forced to surrender unconditionally. Moreover, even if the attacker succeeds in outlasting the defender, a long war of attrition will deplete much of its strength. Consequently,

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A strategic theory of preventive war

if an opportunistic neutral state intervenes, the attacking state will face the danger of a total collapse. In contrast, a failed maneuver strategy alone rarely leads to a total defeat. Opportunity for diplomacy Military strategy also determines the likelihood that declining states attain adequate compensation through “the art of convincing without using force.”46 War can be avoided to the extent that “the promotion of the national interests by peaceful means” is attainable.47 Declining states are unlikely to go to war with rising competitors if the latter can, at a minimum, compensate them for their loss of military capability.48 This minimum compensation is in turn a function of the declining state’s present military capability. Therefore, a diplomatic settlement is forthcoming only when the rivals can agree on their relative military strength. This is not an easy task. The rising state knows that the declining state has an incentive to exaggerate its loss of military capability and underestimate its fighting costs on the negotiation table in order to gain greater concessions. The riser also fears that too generous compensation may encourage further blackmail. Therefore, the rising state wants to offer only necessary concessions based on a conservative assessment of the adversary’s military capability. In consequence, adequate offers can be made only to the extent that the rising state can estimate the adversary’s military capability accurately.49 A substantially incorrect estimation will likely lead the rising state to underestimate the adversary’s capability and thus offer insufficient terms. As I will show below, the accuracy of estimation is crucially dependent upon military strategy adopted by the declining state. Therefore, military strategy exerts a powerful effect on the prospect that the declining state will receive adequate compensation through diplomacy and therefore settle rather than fight. A declining state with an attrition strategy can attain sufficient compensation. First of all, operational surprise does little to help an attacker with an attrition strategy, because this strategy rarely enables an attacker to strike at a location where the defender is unprepared. The defender will concentrate its main forces along what it expects to be the main axis of enemy attack. Since an attrition strategy attacks enemy strong points, the attacker will likely end up striking at the locations where the defender anticipates the main attack and concentrates its forces. A declining state with an attrition strategy also benefits little from strategic surprise. A sudden unexpected attack can contribute to tactical successes in opening battles. However, the effect of surprise is only temporary; the defender will recover from shock over time.50 Therefore, the suddenness of attack increases the chance of strategic success to the extent that the attacker can exploit the fleeting advantage relentlessly thereby bringing about a quick decision. An attrition strategy allows the defender enough time to recover from initial shocks and thus makes the strategic effect of surprise insignificant. For these reasons, a declining state rarely extracts sizable benefits from

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deception and surprise when it employs an attrition strategy. Consequently, this strategy’s success depends mostly on material power, which is easy to measure compared with non-material factors such as surprise. Therefore, the rising state can estimate the opponent’s military capability accurately and offer reasonable terms of compensation. Under this scenario, the declining state need not resort to arms. In contrast, the declining state with a maneuver strategy will be unable to persuade the adversary to make satisfactory concessions. One reason for this is that maneuver strategies depend heavily on operational deception for success.51 The attacker can attain critical military superiority along the paths of mobile thrusts only to the extent that its strategic intention remains unknown. If the defender knows the location of the main attack, it will send reinforcements to cover its soft spots thereby making a maneuver strategy impossible. Therefore, maneuver strategies have a deceptive nature, which hinders the rising state from estimating the opponent’s military capability accurately. Another reason is that strategic surprise results in a large increase in military capability when a maneuver strategy is employed. Sudden attacks help win breakthrough battles or achieve a head start in flanking maneuver. Such initial successes can have a decisive effect on war outcomes, because the attacker with a maneuver strategy can exploit them effectively. The early advantage is often significant enough to enable them to entrap their opponent and reach a quick decision before the defender fully recovers from the initial shock. Therefore, military capability depends in large part on hard-to-measure non-material factors when the declining state has a maneuver strategy. Consequently, the rising state will underestimate the decliner’s military capability and thus fail to offer reasonable terms of compensation; therefore, preventive war is more likely. Although material conditions are often obscure as well, a maneuver strategy creates uncertainty over military capability that is particularly difficult to dispel. The declining state can get adequate terms of concession to the extent that it can convincingly show how much military capability will be lost as the result of power shifts. If the decliner is serious about diplomatic negotiation, there will be a strong incentive to demonstrate its military capability to the riser. Insofar as material factors are concerned, the declining state can often demonstrate its military advantages without losing them. For example, a new missile technology can be demonstrated effectively by testing the missiles in the presence of foreign military observers. A mere demonstration will not reveal the secrets of the new technology to the adversary. On the contrary, it is almost impossible to demonstrate fully a military strategy’s effectiveness without incurring the risk of losing the strategy altogether. The declining state can convince the opponent of its maneuver strategy’s efficacy only if the strategy’s content is fully revealed. However, if its content is made public, the superior strategy will no longer be effective, as the rising state will reinforce its “soft spots.” Therefore, uncertainty over military strategy presents a particularly daunting impediment to diplomatic settlements. When the decliner has a maneuver strategy, therefore, the rising state cannot

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A strategic theory of preventive war

predetermine the role that surprise will play in any military action. Although a prudent riser may factor in a certain amount of surprise in strategic planning, such a hedge will rarely be substantial enough to cancel out the large effect of surprise that maneuver strategies entail.52 Therefore, the rising state will underestimate the opponent’s military capability and thus fail to make adequate compensation. Even if the riser knows the decliner’s strategic intentions, however, it will not make adequate compensation. This is because the rising state will be tempted to exploit its knowledge thereby defeating the declining enemy. Frederick the Great claimed: “If we always knew the enemy’s intentions beforehand, we should always, even with inferior forces, be superior to him.”53 Knowing the adversary’s intention, the defender can deliberately allow the attacker to penetrate or outflank its frontline and then strike its exposed flanks or cut off the lines of communication. In other words, an informed defender can employ a defensive counter-maneuver strategy. A revealed maneuver strategy even presents the opponent with an opportunity for an offensive counter-maneuver. Since a maneuver strategy concentrates main forces at certain locations, the attacker cannot but reduce its strength at other sectors. If the attacker’s plan is known, the opponent will be tempted to break through the “soft spots” or turn the attacker’s flank. Since these counter-maneuver strategies can significantly boost military capability, the riser has little reason to meet the decliner’s demands.54 A diplomatic settlement, therefore, is possible only if both sides completely understand the other’s strategic intentions. Since only an attrition strategy is available for the decliner under such circumstances, it still remains true that diplomacy holds little chance of success when the declining state has a maneuver strategy. Military strategy also shapes the prospect for diplomatic success in another way. Strategy type determines the declining state’s level of military confidence, as noted in the previous section. As the decliner grows more confident of its military capability, it will feel entitled to greater compensation. In addition, the more salient its military optimism, the greater risks it will be willing to take in pursuit of larger concessions. Therefore, the declining state will increase its terms of settlement, as it becomes more confident. In consequence, it will be more difficult to satisfy the decliner and reach a negotiated settlement. If the declining state has a maneuver strategy, then it will have strong military confidence and thus request large compensation. Consequently, diplomacy is likely to fail. In contrast, if an attrition strategy alone is available, the decliner will not be confident enough to make large demands. As a result, there is a better chance for a diplomatic solution. There are various methods of compensation that the rising state can employ. Some intend to mitigate economic decline directly.55 For instance, the riser may change the terms of trade, transfer technology or other factors of production and make territorial and colonial concessions. The three partitions of Poland in 1772, 1793, and 1795 are well-known examples of territorial compensation. Austria, Russia, and Prussia divided “Polish territory in such a way that the distribution

A strategic theory of preventive war

25

of power among themselves would be approximately the same after the partitions as they had been before.”56 The contracting parties thus agreed to prevent anyone from upsetting the balance of power through the exclusive domination of Poland. Other methods are designed to mitigate military decline or manage its adverse consequences. An arms limitation agreement commits the rising state to refraining from the conversion of its newly found wealth into military might. Antagonists can also set up buffer regions and more defensible borders along natural barriers. In addition, the riser may abandon its advanced bases of operations thereby curtailing its offensive power-projection capability. There are still other indirect modes of compensation, whereby the riser helps the decliner compete effectively against a third party. For example, German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck bought the declining Russia’s friendship in the last two decades of his rule by promising to protect its interests against Britain and Austria-Hungary. This method of offering service as compensation is particularly palatable to the rising state, since compensation is made at a third party’s expense. In sum, straightforward attrition strategies allow states to agree on their relative military strength and strike a deal that can avoid war, while maneuver strategies do not afford these opportunities. Moreover, declining states with an attrition strategy are more accommodating and susceptible to compensation than those with a maneuver strategy. Preventive motive The declining state is more willing to initiate an early war against its rising (potential) adversary as power shifts reduce military capability to a larger degree. To the extent that power decline will render it less capable compared with its current capability, the decliner has a strong motive for preventive action. Military capability is among states’ major concerns because it determines their security in the international system. The system contains no central authority designed to guarantee its members’ survival. Therefore, states define their paramount interests in terms of national security and help themselves to protect their security interests.57 Since war is a constant and often the gravest threat to survival in the anarchical system, states care about their ability to win wars at an acceptable cost particularly against those states that have significant conflicting interests and military strength. Even if war does not break out, each state’s military capability shapes its share of security interests within the system in the long run. A stronger state can realize a greater portion of its wish list. Since international politics takes its course in the shadow of war, therefore, states care about decline in material power which is an important pillar of military capability. Although defensive realists argue that the decliner has little incentive for preventive war insofar as it will still remain able to defend itself against an attempted conquest by the riser,58 this proposition is questionable for two

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A strategic theory of preventive war

reasons. First, war can break out later for a variety of reasons that the declining state cannot readily manipulate. For example, the rising state might perceive that it has a clever strategy or material superiority in the future. In such event, the declining state would fight a more costly war with less chance of success. As German and Japanese leaders realized during the inter-war period, protracted attrition warfare is far from a satisfactory option especially for a materially weaker state, even when total defeat seems a highly remote possibility.59 Second, even if war does not occur, the prospect of a costly and risky war might still coerce the decliner to make considerable concessions in the future. For example, Britain and France could not but acquiesce to Hitler’s successive demands in the 1930s, since they feared fighting a long and costly war like the Great War again. Confidence in eventual victory hardly encouraged the allied powers to stand up against the violations of their security interests in a timely manner. For these reasons, even if the declining state expects a fair chance to win or avoid losing a later war, marked decline in military capability will still arouse grave concerns about the future thereby giving the decliner a strong motive for preventive action. States almost always care about a significant loss of military capability to their (potential) adversaries, because it is bound to endanger important security interests sooner or later. The motive for preventive war grows stronger as the discrepancy between present and future military capabilities widens. The more that power decline decreases a state’s capabilities, the more its security will decrease over time and correspondingly increase its motive for preventive war. Power decline undermines military capability more or less, according to the type of military strategy. Power decline can have two separate effects on military capability. On the one hand, power decline will decrease a strategy’s chance of success as it makes the military balance less favorable. On the other hand, power decline sometimes forces a state to abandon its current strategy and adopt an inferior alternative.60 The declining state will lose military capability to a particularly great extent if power shifts deprive it of a superior strategy as well as deteriorate its material condition. In comparison, the decliner will not lose as much military capability if power shifts merely reduce resources for war without rendering its superior strategy unavailable. Whether power shifts lead to the loss of a superior strategy can spell a large difference in decision-making for war and peace, especially when the shifts are of small or modest magnitude. A small power decline alone will not decrease military capability to such a large extent as to create a strong preventive motive. However, if a small decline forces the decliner to abandon a superior strategy, the loss of military capability will be large enough to produce a strong motive for preventive actions. The declining state often loses military capability to a particularly great extent when it has a maneuver strategy. Power decline not only deteriorates its material condition but also often renders its maneuver strategy obsolete. Therefore, the decliner may fear that its superior strategy will be available for a limited time only and thus that it might be later forced to fight a war of attrition

A strategic theory of preventive war

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under worse material conditions. The anticipated loss of a superior strategy thus adds another reason to prefer an early war. The maneuver strategy is vulnerable to the loss of relative power, because power decline often deprives the decliner of the ability to exploit the enemy’s soft spots. Given the scarcity of military resources, states cannot make their defenses strong enough everywhere and thus often leave certain local defenses relatively weak. Now that power shifts make additional forces available, the rising state can deploy at least a small portion to the “gaps” to hedge against less probable contingencies. Also, the declining state may be forced to divert a portion of mobile forces and reinforce the defense opposite the enemy’s growing main body, fearing that the entire defense may collapse even before mobile forces deliver a decisive blow. Consequently, power decline may decrease the likelihood that a maneuver strategy will succeed and thus force the decliner to switch to an attrition strategy in the near future. Therefore, there exists a strong incentive to fight an early war while the declining state can still rely on a superior strategy as well as favorable material conditions. If the declining state adopts an attrition strategy, power decline diminishes military capability significantly, yet to a considerably lesser extent compared with the case where a maneuver strategy is employed. Since the attrition strategy depends heavily on material power for success, the decliner with such a strategy will lose military capability and experience a loss in security. However, this simple strategy is not vulnerable to power decline, although it is sensitive to material condition. Unlike a decliner with a maneuver strategy, the declining state with an attrition strategy is not forced to switch to an inferior strategy – it is simply left with the same strategy that it had all along, because it has already adopted the worst possible strategy. Although the loss of material power will certainly render a future war more costly and risky than a present war of attrition, the discrepancy may not be as marked as it might be if the decliner had a maneuver strategy and expected to lose it over time. There is another way to understand the impact of strategy type on preventive motive. As noted earlier, the declining state has no favorable opportunity for war when an attrition strategy alone is available. Therefore, power shifts will not close a window of opportunity, since there is no such window in the first place. In this case, the decliner will only face an opening window of vulnerability, if at all.61 On the other hand, there will be a closing window of opportunity as well as an opening window of vulnerability, if power decline forces the declining state to lose its maneuver strategy. Therefore, the decliner with a maneuver strategy will have an additional reason to fear the strategic consequences of power decline. In sum, states that have a maneuver strategy have a great deal to lose as their power declines, since power decline threatens to deny them both their strategy and their power. In contrast, declining states with an attrition strategy already possess the worst of the two possible strategies and stand to lose only their power over time. Consequently, decliners with maneuver strategies have a stronger motive to fight a preventive war than those with attrition strategies.

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A strategic theory of preventive war

Hypotheses The above propositions combine to produce two main hypotheses concerning when power shifts may likely result in war. •

H1: If the declining state has a maneuver strategy, then power shifts will result in war.

In this case, power decline will negate the possibility of using the superior strategy as well as deteriorate material conditions significantly. Therefore, even a small decline can spell a large loss in military capability, and the declining state may anticipate that a future war will involve markedly greater cost and risk. Even if peace can be maintained in the near future, the specter of a costly and risky war will force the decliner to make considerable concessions later on. Therefore, the declining state will have a strong motive for preventive action. In addition, the maneuver strategy will hinder assessing military capability accurately and encourage the demand for large concessions. Therefore, diplomatic efforts may likely bear no fruit. Finally, a maneuver strategy presents the decliner with an excellent opportunity to attain a quick and decisive victory. •

H2: If the declining state has an attrition strategy, then power shifts will pass without war.

Given that an attrition strategy depends on material power, the declining state may anticipate a significant loss of military capability over time. However, the decliner will have only a moderate motive for preventive action, since it sees no closing window of opportunity. In addition, the prospect of a costly war of attrition will induce the decliner to act cautiously and ask for modest compensation. The straightforwardness of this strategy will also enable the riser to calculate the opponent’s military capability accurately. Consequently, the decliner may likely extract sufficient concessions from the riser through negotiation thereby avoiding military conflict. These hypotheses are based on the premise that strategic considerations shape political decision-making. This proposition may seem unrealistic at first glance, given the fact that civilian policymakers often lack detailed knowledge of military affairs. However, civilians’ ignorance does not prevent military strategy from shaping political decision for war. Since war is an ultimate challenge for national security, any government will carefully assess its military capability before risking one. To the extent that they are ignorant about strategic matters, civilians will rely on military experts’ net assessment based on military strategy.62 If the military dominates the policy-making process, military strategy will directly influence strategic assessments. This will also be the case when civilians have sufficient expertise and information on strategy.

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Extensions Coalition warfare So far I have assumed that a declining state chooses to fight against a rising state alone. What then happens if the riser has major power allies? The answer is that war is likely when a maneuver strategy is available against the most powerful member of the opposing coalition. If a maneuver strategy is available against each and every opponent, there is no doubt that preventive war is likely, because the declining state is capable of defeating the enemies simultaneously or in sequence. In contrast, the decliner will refrain from fighting wars if attrition strategies are the only viable options, since it is doubly risky and costly to fight a multi-front war of attrition. If a maneuver strategy is available against the most powerful enemy while impossible against others, the declining state can defeat the former quickly and decisively and then force the latter to face a costly war of attrition if it chooses to fight. In doing so, the decliner can hope that the prospect of a costly war without the strongest ally will deter the undefeated opponents from attacking. Such successful faits accomplis may compensate for the effect of power decline, as the decliner breaks up the hostile coalition or exploits the defeated state’s material resources. Even if the remaining opponents do fight, the declining state will have a fair chance of victory as it can bolster its war efforts by extracting the defeated foe’s resources through occupation or imposing indemnity.63 To say the least, this scenario is much better than a later war of attrition with an intact hostile coalition.

Nuclear warfare What does the advent of nuclear technology imply for my theory’s applicability? It seems that my theory can shed light on the political implications of many power shifts taking place currently or in the foreseeable future. If neither the riser nor the decliner has its own nuclear arsenal or a reliable nuclear-armed patron, the declining state will make decisions as if it would have done prior to 1945. In a nuclear-free dyad, a conventional maneuver strategy alone suffices to trigger a preventive attack. Even if the rising state has the wherewithal to build a nuclear arsenal on short notice, the declining state will launch a preventive attack when a maneuver strategy is likely to work. Although such latent nuclear capability increases the potential cost of its failure, an attacker with a maneuver strategy can still believe that a quick decision is possible before the opponent builds an operational arsenal. On the other hand, nuclear potential will make the decliner even more reluctant to launch a preventive attack when an attrition strategy is the only option available. A long war can give the adversary enough time to develop nuclear weapons; the high costs of war will make their use more tempting. Therefore, in a long war of attrition, the adversary’s nuclear potential makes the

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A strategic theory of preventive war

probability of a decisive victory highly unlikely. An overwhelming majority of states have no reliable nuclear deterrent at the moment. Therefore, my theory will remain useful in the nuclear age if the number of applicable cases can serve as a criterion. Preventive war is possible in a nuclear-armed dyad only if the declining state has both nuclear and conventional maneuver strategies. If the rising state has its own nuclear arsenal or a reliable nuclear patron, the declining state will initiate preventive war only if it is able to disarm the enemy’s retaliatory capability at an acceptable cost. Insofar as such a capability remains intact, the pursuit of a total victory at the conventional level risks catastrophic destruction of the attacker’s society. No power decline will ever be severe enough to justify taking such a risk consciously. Therefore, the attacker first needs to reduce the hostile arsenal to an insignificant level and do so at an acceptable cost. In other words, the decliner will initiate a preventive war only if an offensive strategy enables it to avoid a mutual assured destruction (MAD).64 A strategic nuclear offensive can meet these requirements under three conditions. First, the target state must not launch an immediate all-out retaliation before the offensive delivers a disarming blow. If the target state employs an allout nuclear response upon warning of an impending attack, the attacker will find it impossible to avoid catastrophic destruction. Second, the nuclear attack should not be so massive as to produce large collateral damage and blowback nuclear fallout. Turning the enemy society into a “smoking, radiating ruin” destroys valuable spoils as well as creating a potentially dangerous power vacuum in the region. To the extent that the target state is geographically proximate, largescale immigration of refugees and blowback fallout will bring socioeconomic and environmental disasters to the attacker.65 Finally, the offensive must not consume the bulk of the attacker’s strategic arsenal thereby undermining its deterrent against a third party. The character of nuclear strategy shapes these conditions and thus the chance that a nuclear disarming blow is dealt at an acceptable cost. A nuclear maneuver strategy is the sole viable option for this purpose, although its successful implementation is often extremely difficult. This strategy aims to neutralize the enemy’s retaliatory capability through deception and strategic paralysis. The attacker delivers a small number of nuclear warheads against the opponent’s “political and military command centers and organizational headquarters.”66 The small scale of attack intends to mislead the defender to perceive that a limited counterforce option is being exercised and thus abstain from initiating a prompt all-out retaliation. The selective strikes are designed to make political control of military forces so difficult as to even cause total dissolution of the enemy government.67 If the “nuclear decapitation” succeeds, the defender will be able to mount highly uncoordinated counterattacks at best.68 The attacker will then make efforts to limit its damage with defensive measures. The limited scale of the attack can also allow the attacker to avoid large collateral damage and blowback fallout. For these reasons, preventive war is possible when the declining state has high confidence in a nuclear maneuver strategy’s success.

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In contrast, a nuclear attrition strategy holds little promise for removing the enemy’s retaliatory capability at an acceptable cost. The nuclear attrition strategy aims to destroy the bulk of the enemy’s arsenal directly. A nuclear attack can achieve this aim and avoid risking unbearable retaliation only if the attacker destroys most nuclear weapons at once. Therefore, a nuclear attrition campaign will begin with a massive nuclear first strike.69 However, the large scale of attack may lead the opponent to fear losing its nuclear capability and launch its weapons on warning. The massive scale will also produce large collateral damage and blowback nuclear fallout, which will in turn bring socioeconomic and environmental disasters to the attacker. In other words, the decliner with a nuclear attrition strategy cannot avoid a MAD. Finally, a massive offensive may deplete the attacker’s arsenal to such an extent that it becomes vulnerable to a third-party attack. These reasons make preventive war highly unlikely when a nuclear attrition strategy is the only available option.70 If the declining state can maintain a nuclear monopoly, preventive war is unlikely to break out. The riser lacking a nuclear arsenal will not encroach upon the decliner’s vital security interests and risk nuclear retaliation. Therefore, a robust nuclear monopoly reduces preventive motive. However, if the declining state anticipates losing its monopoly, it will have a considerable preventive motive since the loss undermines its military capability considerably. Preventive war is likely in particular if the decliner has a conventional maneuver strategy. Naval and air warfare It is also possible to classify naval and air strategies as either maneuver- or attrition-oriented. When the strategies are classified in light of their basic characteristics, there emerges a broad pattern. As a rule, the independent use of air or naval power falls largely into the category of attrition strategy. A naval or air strategy acquires the attributes of maneuver strategy, mostly when it supports ground forces’ maneuvers. A naval maneuver strategy has two variants. The first aims to entrap and annihilate the opposing navy. The attacker first contains the enemy fleet within a narrow space such as a harbor and cuts off the lines of communications at sea and, if possible, on land. A forceful offensive will then finish off the trapped enemy forces. A typical example of this variant is the Japanese navy’s attack on the US Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor in December 1941. The second aims to help the friendly army to maneuver and entrap the enemy ground forces. The opposing army sometimes depends on seaborne lines of communication as well as ground routes. On such occasions, naval forces can shut down the seaborne communication thereby encircling the enemy army in conjunction with friendly ground forces. The navy can also directly assist the army’s maneuver by transporting amphibious forces onto the enemy’s flanks or rear. A classic example is General Douglas MacArthur’s landing at Inchon during the Korean War.71 In August 1950, the US Navy helped ground forces to outflank the North Korean army marching to the south and take the port of

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Inchon, a gateway to the transportation hub of Seoul. The United States could thus entrap the North Korean army in the southern part of the Korean peninsula. Except for these occasions, naval power usually is employed in an attritional campaign. All the independent employments of naval power in particular belong to the category of attrition strategy. There are two ways to employ navies for independent purposes.72 First, naval vessels can bombard cities and military/economic installments along the enemy coasts with guns, missiles, and carrierbased aircrafts. Second, navies can cut off the opponent’s seaborne trade through blockades. These methods are essentially of an attritional nature in that the destruction of military power is their ultimate aim. They intend to wear down the opponent’s economy and morale thereby wrecking its military might eventually. Since the target state can temporize significant losses in military power through various countermeasures, a naval attrition strategy often takes a long time to have a notable military effect and thus promises a slow process of “exhaustion” at best.73 The air maneuver strategy takes three forms.74 First, an air force can assume a mission of “interdiction,” which attacks enemy lines of communication within a theater of operation. The air force thus cuts off supplies and reinforcements, thereby keeping the enemy army in a trap. Second, air lift can assist a “vertical envelopment” by inserting a significant number of troops behind the enemy defense.75 Such interdiction and airlift operations usually supplement rather than substitute for maneuver on the ground, because of their limited capability. Finally, air power can be used for the “decapitation” of political and military leadership.76 This method aims to kill enemy leaders and/or remove their means of communication with military forces. The resultant disruption of C3 systems is expected to paralyze the enemy war machine and lead to a quick and decisive victory, although such desired results have rarely materialized.77 Conventional strategic bombings other than decapitation fall into the category of attrition strategy. The strategies of “punishment” and “risk” target civilian population or economic assets thereby wearing down the psychological and material foundations of the opponent’s military power. The above classification sheds light on two well-documented tendencies. First, the fact that most independent air and naval strategies have an attritional character explains their frequent inability to deliver quick and decisive victories. As the historical record of the last century testifies, strategic bombings and naval blockades rarely produce quick and decisive successes.78 These strategies’ attritional character may have contributed to such poor performance. Second, the character of the decapitation strategy helps us understand why it has become increasingly popular among air power enthusiasts. Decapitation is the only maneuver-oriented strategy of independent air power and at least in theory can promise swift success. It is useful to conclude discussion on the categories of military strategy by reemphasizing the point that strategy is not defined in terms of its associated cost but in terms of operational method alone. For example, an inexpensive

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strategy is not necessarily maneuver-oriented: an attrition strategy, when combined with marked power advantage, can produce a cheap victory as the German conquest of Poland in 1939 demonstrated.79 According to my definition centered on operational method, therefore, the allied air war against Iraq in 1991 was mainly an attrition campaign because it aimed largely at the destruction of the enemy’s forces – not strategic paralysis. Operation Instant Thunder selectively targeting Iraqi leadership was maneuver-oriented but limited in scope and duration. Although the air war inflicted great damage on the enemy at little cost to the attackers, it was nevertheless an attrition campaign because low fighting cost does not necessarily constitute maneuver. British naval blockade against Napoleonic France also counts as an example of an attrition campaign, although it considerably harmed the French with relatively few British casualties. This is similarly because the primary aim of the blockade was the destruction of French power rather than strategic paralysis.

Sources of military strategy Why do some states adopt maneuver strategies while others employ attrition strategies? The answer is that states that have good intelligence capability and strategic acumen are likely to possess maneuver strategies, while those lacking these qualities tend to adopt attrition strategies. Good intelligence is an essential ingredient for maneuver strategies, because for their success the attacker must have accurate information on the opponents’ war plans while hiding its own intention and capability to exploit their vulnerabilities. Simply put, a maneuver strategy requires a marked advantage in strategic knowledge, which in turn depends crucially on superior capacity in key areas of intelligence operations including data collection, analysis, evaluation, counterintelligence, and deception. Therefore, states with resourceful intelligence apparatus may have a better chance to adopt maneuver strategies. Superior intelligence alone, however, cannot produce an effective maneuver strategy; creation of this strategy needs superb strategic acumen as well. As Clausewitz emphasized, a superior conduct of war calls for “an intellect that, even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth.”80 Intelligence reports on the adversary’s plans are frequently fragmentary and contradictory; only astute strategists can see through such uncertainty, discerning the opponent’s strategic intention and understanding its weaknesses. Strategic acumen is also essential for devising ingenuous ways to exploit those vulnerabilities. While some military leaders (whom Clausewitz called military geniuses) are simply born with this extraordinary talent, many others acquire it through painstaking education and training as well as first-hand experience in war. Therefore, those states that provide high-quality military education and/or recruit the first-rate manpower into their officer corps are particularly likely to possess maneuver strategies. So are the states that conduct military operations and exercises frequently. Also, military organizations firmly committed to meritocracy and free exchanges of ideas may be better able to create these

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A strategic theory of preventive war

superior strategies, because such institutions can increase the chance that astute strategists get to influence operational planning. If their military leadership is deficient in intelligence capability and strategic acumen, on the other hand, then states cannot but adopt an attrition strategy. As already noted, a maneuver strategy is no riskier than an attrition strategy and is preferable in all other major aspects. Therefore, states will adopt a maneuver strategy whenever it offers a reasonable chance of success.81 An attrition strategy is thus employed as a fallback option only when effective maneuver is impossible.82 Without superb intelligence and acumen, states have little chance to create a maneuver strategy and therefore cannot but settle with an inferior strategy of attrition.83 My argument contradicts several accepted views concerning sources of strategy. Some scholars argue that powerful states prefer an attrition strategy because material strength is their comparative advantage.84 In contrast, materially weak states tend to adopt a maneuver strategy since they cannot expect to win a long war of attrition. Therefore, states have “definite national styles [of war], marked by a particular position on the attrition-maneuver spectrum.”85 This argument is flawed since it is predicated on the false premise that strategies have their unique merits and faults and therefore are equivalent. Maneuver is in fact a superior form of warfare, so states will employ it if they can, regardless of their “self-images of relative material strength or weakness.”86 To take an example, US leaders preferred maneuver warfare to attrition in spite of the Allies’ overwhelming material advantage during the Persian Gulf War of 1991. Comparing the initial air attrition campaign with the subsequent ground maneuver operation, General Norman Schwarzkopf commented: “Once we get through this [attritional phase] and we’re moving . . . Then we’re fighting our kind of war. Before we get through that, we’re fighting their kind of war, and that’s what we didn’t want to have to do.”87 There is another popular claim that the offense–defense balance – comprising technology, geography, and force density – determines military strategy. “When states act optimally,” Glaser and Kaufmann argue, “doctrine and deployments merely reflect the balance.”88 If states face rough terrain, dense force, and enhanced firepower, their argument runs, they are unable to penetrate the defense and thus forced to adopt attrition strategies. In contrast, if there exist few geographical and technological barriers to movement and low density of force, states see a successful blitzkrieg likely and adopt maneuver strategies. This argument is a gross overstatement for three reasons despite a modicum of truth in it. First, geographic barriers paradoxically can present opportunities for maneuver. There is no question that rugged terrain, buffer region, and especially a body of water hinder movement that is essential for any attack. This obvious fact, however, often gives defenders a sense of security thereby creating weak points for attackers to exploit.89 To take notable examples, the French were ill prepared for a German offensive through Belgium in 1914, precisely because the buffer was thought to place an enormous burden on

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German logistics. France also left the Ardennes sector weakly guarded in 1940, since dense forests made it unsuitable for a major mechanized operation by the Wehrmacht. Second, technological innovations in firepower and mobility hardly affect the outcome of flanking-maneuver. When an attacker outflanks the defense, a breakthrough battle is unnecessary and therefore the defender cannot take advantage of enhanced firepower. Also, the defender needs a rapid relocation to stop the flanking movement and thus can benefit as much from increased mobility as the attacker can. There are, however, logical reasons to believe that military technology affects the outcome of penetration-maneuver. Third, high overall force density does not guarantee the absence of exploitable weak points. Defenders rarely allocate their forces evenly across the border. They usually deploy a majority of forces along the anticipated route of attack to avoid a dangerous local inferiority. This uneven force distribution can present an opportunity for maneuver even when force density is sufficiently high on average. In May 1940, for example, the Allies had enough forces to defend their entire German borders in strength.90 However, they concentrated their field armies along the Belgian frontier – the expected axis of German attack – while deploying a token force in the Ardennes. Another common argument on sources of strategy is that military strategy is a simple function of political will – preventive motive in our case. States that intend to fight war for some reasons, the argument runs, will usually manage to craft an effective strategy. According to this logic, “War is like love, it always finds a way,” as Bertolt Brecht says.91 Therefore, states will create a maneuver strategy when they need one. This exaggerated claim overlooks the simple fact that states often cannot obtain what they want. If a maneuver strategy were available whenever needed, states would rarely have an attrition-oriented war plan. War is a constant possibility in international politics since there is no central political authority to prevent its occurrence. Consequently, states search for ways to increase their military capabilities and want to adopt a superior strategy whenever possible. Therefore, if political necessity always gave birth to an optimal strategy, few states would adopt an attrition strategy in peacetime; no belligerent would ever fight a war of attrition. However, the fact is that states do adopt attrition strategies and do so more frequently.92 Attrition has been a common method of warfare throughout history.93 Therefore, it is wrong to assert that strategy merely reflects political will or need.

Summary In conclusion, my theory argues that declining states with maneuver strategies have good opportunities for war, poor diplomatic opportunities, and a powerful preventive motive, while decliners with attrition strategies have poor opportunities for war, better diplomatic opportunities, and less compelling preventive motive. Together these claims imply that:

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1

if a declining state has a maneuver strategy, then power shifts will result in war if it has an attrition strategy, then those same power shifts will pass peacefully.

2

These hypotheses are expected to hold true no matter what type of warfare a decliner plans to wage – ground, naval, air, or nuclear. In regard to the sources of strategy, I highlight the quality of military leadership as key determinant. If the leadership has good intelligence capability and strategic acumen, then they may be able to create a maneuver strategy; otherwise, an attrition strategy will be adopted.

3

The Russo-German rapprochement, 1870–90

Why did the power shift that Russia and Germany experienced over the period 1870–90 never lead to war? This case of peaceful shift in power runs counter to the conventional wisdom that marked changes in the balance of power are among the most powerful causes of war. In this chapter, I apply my strategic theory of preventive war to solving this interesting puzzle and examine how well the declining Russia’s military strategy accounts for the absence of war. To this end, I investigate whether Russia adopted attrition strategies during this period, and if so, how they shaped the country’s motive for preventive action and military and diplomatic opportunities. I also scrutinize how these factors in turn helped the two rivals avoid war in general and reach the rapprochement in the 1880s in particular. This chapter also probes whether any of alternative theories can present a better solution to this puzzle. My theory posits that an attrition strategy produces the following effects and thereby makes preventive war unlikely: •

•

•

Preventive motive. The declining state has a modest motive for preventive war because an attrition strategy promises a long and costly war. Although power decline will increase the costs of war and decrease the chance of victory, a later war will not be markedly worse than an early war. Therefore, the decliner perceives only a moderate loss of military capability. Opportunity for war. The declining state lacks confidence in its military capability since the attrition strategy induces the state to anticipate a costly war with uncertain prospects for victory. Opportunity for diplomacy. The declining state can reach a diplomatic settlement that offers acceptable compensation. The decliner is willing to bargain because its attrition strategy arouses military pessimism and thereby encourages caution. The straightforward strategy also enables the riser to avoid underestimating the opponent’s military capability and to offer sufficient concessions.

The historical research finds strong empirical evidence that Russia’s attritioncentered war plan had these hypothesized effects indeed and contributed to the maintenance of peace. Russian leadership had a moderate preventive motive and

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The Russo-German rapprochement

strong military pessimism and also achieved an acceptable diplomatic settlement, as my theory predicts. Also, there is good evidence that Russia’s attrition strategy caused these peace-promoting phenomena, although its effects on the motive for preventive action and diplomacy seem less clear. In addition, the three conditions together appear to constitute a sufficient explanation for the peaceful power shifts. Offense–defense theory can only be viewed as having a mediocre performance overall in explaining the rapprochement. The supporting evidence is not strong with regard to explaining preventive motive and diplomatic opportunity. For example, an important Russian leader harbored strong fear about Russia’s future vulnerability despite his faith in defense. Both Russia and Germany also perceived strong first-mover incentives and were afraid of being cheated, in spite of their belief in defense-dominance. However, the theory offers a good account for Russia’s military opportunity. Rough terrain and defense-enhancing technologies indeed led Russian generals to expect the difficulties of offensive operations against Germany. Dynamic differentials theory also fails to explain the rapprochement adequately. The research finds evidence that contradicts its predictions on both preventive motive and diplomacy. Although Germany’s military preponderance was foreseen, Russia only had moderate fear of the consequences of power shifts. St. Petersburg also made genuine efforts to reach a diplomatic settlement in contrast to the theory’s claims. Only with regard to opportunity for war, does the theory appear to make correct predictions. There is strong evidence that inferior rail networks and mobilization capability imbued the Russian government with military pessimism. The historical records contradict power transition theory’s predictions. The allegedly dissatisfied Germans on the rise went to great length to accommodate the Russians who repeatedly stood by the French – a pillar of the international order. Also, Germany did not perceive a favorable military opportunity despite the fact that it was comparable or superior to Russia in power. This chapter consists of eight sections. The first two sections describe the attrition-oriented character of Russia’s military strategy and shifts in the balance of power between 1870 and 1890. The subsequent three sections show how the attrition strategy contributed to Russia’s moderate preventive motive and military pessimism and rapprochement through diplomatic settlement. The sixth section evaluates the offense–defense and dynamic differentials theories. In the seventh section, I defend my arguments against two counterclaims. The final section summarizes major findings.

Russian military strategy Russia had an attrition-based war plan between 1870 and 1890. The Russian army’s most important handicaps – both consequences of its inferior rail networks – were its slow mobilization rate and inability to concentrate quickly.1 The plan compensated for these weaknesses by calling for spoiling cavalry raids

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early in an eventual conflict. Cavalry units would cross the borders and attack railway bridges, troop trains, and military depots in enemy territory thereby delaying Austro-German attempts to mobilize and concentrate their forces.2 Behind this cavalry screen, Russia was to man its fortresses and citadels along the borders and check enemy thrusts until it managed to complete its mobilization.3 The entire Russian army would then fight a series of set-piece battles and destroy the invading armies. Finally, having defeated the enemy forces in the field, the Tsarist army would switch to the offensive and advance toward Berlin and Vienna.4 In its entirety, the plan envisaged a protracted war in excess of six months if the Russians were to have any chance of success. In addition to its main war plan, the Russian army also prepared an offensive contingency plan against Austria-Hungary in case the German army was preoccupied in the west.5 This strategy was in part maneuver-oriented in that the Russian army sought to outflank the Austro-Hungarian defense in Galicia. Despite its obvious merit, however, Russia had little illusion that Germany would leave Austria to confront Russia alone during this period. Therefore, the attrition strategy remained the sole viable option and guided Russian military policy throughout the two decades.

Shifts in the balance of power The establishment of the German Empire in 1871 spelled a revolutionary transformation in Russo-German relations. German victory over France undermined Russia’s strategic position in Europe substantially.6 The Tsarist government now came to fear its former protégé due to the latter’s growth in power following its spectacular military victory over France.7 The German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck’s repeated assurances that Germany would not expand further and incorporate ethnic Germans living in Russia’s Baltic provinces did little to alleviate St. Petersburg’s fears.8 Although Germany was still Russia’s strategic partner, a fact formalized initially by the Three Emperors’ League agreements and later by the Reinsurance Treaty, St. Petersburg could not entirely trust Berlin’s good will. As War Minister D.A. Miliutin put it, Russia could not remain undisturbed by the “sight of a colossal increment to the military strength of Prussia.”9 Unification only marked the beginning of Germany’s ascendance. The German Empire industrialized rapidly and surpassed Russia in most major economic categories over the next two decades. In the meantime, Russia’s economy stagnated and showed few signs of coming around.10 The facts are staggering: Germany’s gross national product (GNP) increased by approximately 58 percent, while Russia’s fell by some 8 percent over the period11; while Germany had 73 percent of Russia’s GNP in 1870, it had a 25 percent larger economy 20 years later; the German iron and steel industry grew at a spectacular pace throughout the period despite a prolonged depression in Europe and far surpassed that of not only Russia but also all its other European rivals.12 Compared with 1870 estimates, Germany produced 3.4 times more iron and steel in 1890, while Russia manufactured only about 2.6 times more.13 In 1870, Germany’s

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iron and steel production amounted to 3.3 times Russia’s, whereas the figure increased to 4.4 times by 1890. Russia outgrew Germany only in the field of energy consumption. In 1890, Germany consumed about 2.4 times more energy than it did in 1870. In 1890, Russia consumed 7.5 times more energy than it did in 1870. However, this seemingly remarkable growth was mostly due to the meager initial level of Russia’s energy consumption. The amount of consumed energy increased from 5 percent of Germany’s to 15 percent over the same period. Russia’s relative economic decline was mirrored in the military realm.14 Stagnant industry and commerce led to fiscal crises, which induced the Russian government to keep a tight rein on military expenditure.15 Over the two decades, Russia’s defense expenditure rose by only 20 percent, while Germany’s increased by some 180 percent. While Russia spent 85 percent more on defense than Germany did in 1872, it was spending 24 percent less by 1890. These financial constraints had powerful military effects: the Russians simply could not keep pace with their neighbor’s technological advances in either small arms or artillery.16 For example, Germany introduced a small-bore magazine rifle as early as 1884, while Russia did not adopt its equivalent Mosin rifle for another seven years.17 Worse still, Russia lagged behind in the critical area of mobilization capability as the result of the ever-widening gap in railroad capacity. As it struggled to free up resources for its railroad construction program, the Germans continued to build new railroads in East Prussia that would “allow Germany to mobilize in half the time of Russia and concentrate its forces for the attack in a quarter the time it would take Russia.”18 The inferior rail networks particularly worried Russian planners because strategic railways were regarded as occupying a predominant place in military power.19 N.N. Obruchev, the chief of the general staff, argued that “overwhelming success goes to him who mobilizes his army more quickly, concentrates it more quickly, and strikes his still unprepared opponent with mass.”20 It was clear to all that efficient means of transportation, especially strategic railways, were the key to rapid mobilization and concentration. The coalitional balance also shifted to Russia’s disadvantage. Russia made few reliable and powerful friends and many enemies over the two decades. Austria-Hungary, a staunch rival in the Balkans, would probably side with Germany in the case of war. Russia’s pan-Slavic aspirations threatened the survival of the Turkish Empire thereby creating an irreconcilable enemy along its southern frontier. Russian expansion into Central Asia, Persia, Afghanistan, and Turkey also aroused security concerns in Britain. Indeed, the latter almost went to war with Russia on several occasions in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Russia’s strategic situation worsened following the Russo-Turkish war of 1877–78. Russia’s decision to abandon Serbia in favor of Bulgaria, for example, forced the formerly friendly government in Belgrade to ally with AustriaHungary in June 1881.21 Similarly, Russia’s annexation of Bessarabia, in clear

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violation of prior agreements, pushed Rumania toward the Germanic powers in late 1883.22 Even Bulgaria, one of Russia’s few allies after the Turkish war, had turned its back on St. Petersburg by the mid-1880s. This was a particularly heavy blow since it essentially eliminated Russian influence in the strategically important Balkan region. There remained only the isolated Montenegro as a loyal local ally. Finally, although France was often touted as a potential major ally against Germany, a Franco-Russian alliance would not materialize until the mid-1890s due to political and strategic obstacles.

Preventive motive Despite the marked deterioration in Russia’s strategic position, there is little evidence of a powerful preventive motive among its leadership. Military planners feared the empire’s vulnerability and proposed crash programs for rearmament and reorganization of the army. However, civilian leaders did not share a similar strong motive for preventive action and opposed the expensive defense programs, although they were well aware of Russia’s power decline. This split of the leadership remained present throughout the period 1870–90 and frustrated attempts to keep up with Germany’s increasing military power. The reason for such moderate preventive motive, as predicted by my theory, is that Russia only had an attrition strategy between 1870 and 1890 and therefore power decline did not markedly reduce its military capability. Put somewhat differently, Russian prospects in a later war were not likely to be much worse than their prospects in an earlier war. The officer corps in particular feared the strategic consequences of power shifts and made great efforts to boost military strength quickly. As early as 1872, key military leaders formed a consensus on major strategic issues and published their conclusions in a pamphlet titled “Considerations Concerning the Defense of Russia.”23 Most importantly, the Russian army pointed to Germany and Austria-Hungary as its principal enemies and devised an attrition strategy to cope with them. The principal author of the plan, N.N. Obruchev, believed that success depended on three basic reforms.24 First, Russia needed a Prussian-style army consisting of a small cadre force and large trained reserve. In order to achieve this goal, he recommended the introduction of universal military service. Second, Russia must be able to mobilize and concentrate the army quickly. Since an efficient rail system was essential to this task, Obruchev called for large-scale railroad construction. Third, a strong fortress system was needed to guard the frontier until the completion of mobilization. This in turn implied renewed efforts to construct and modernize fortresses and citadels in the border regions. Military planners asserted that these measures were urgent to prop up declining military power. Failure to carry out these reforms, Obruchev warned in 1872, would have calamitous consequences: When powerful neighbors arm themselves, furnish themselves with improved arms, build fortresses, provide themselves with strategic railway

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The Russo-German rapprochement lines, and become capable of hurling armies of millions of men against a foreign country . . . [Russia could be] wiped off the earth by history.25

The army’s plea for a military buildup fell largely on deaf ears, however. Both the Tsar Alexander and the civilian leadership were in favor of Obruchev’s call for universal military service and a Prussian-style mass army since these measures were likely to reduce the size of the standing army and fiscal burden.26 Military necessity also helped the organizational reform to overcome powerful opposition from the gentry class. Consequently, the Russian government enacted the universal military training law in January 1874, declaring: “the defense of the fatherland forms the sacred duty of every Russian citizen.”27 The other components of Obruchev’s plan, however, met with strong opposition. Finance Minister M.K. Reutern and others strongly opposed the proposed crash programs for railway and fortress construction and managed to persuade the Tsar Alexander to impose a cap on the defense budget.28 These decisions shaped Russian defense policy well into the late 1880s. War Minister Miliutin wrote to his despair in late 1973: After the sad outcome of the secret conference on military matters held in the beginning of the year and with the establishment of a normal military budget for the War Ministry, it became impossible for me to attend to the affairs of military reconstruction with that independence and energy with which I had conducted them in the previous eleven years.29 The patterns of military spending in the 1880s clearly show Russia’s moderate motive for preventive action. Table 3.1 compares the annual percentage shares of the Russian and German armies in total state expenditures and reveals an important pattern: the Russian army’s share of total state expenditures was on

Table 3.1 Army share in total state expenditure, 1881–90 Year

The Russian army’s share in state expenditure (%)

The German army’s share in state expenditure (%)

1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890

30 26 25 22 23 22 22 22 23–4 22–3

67 – – – 66 57 60 53 48 53

Source: W.C. Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict in Imperial Russia, 1881–1914, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1985, pp. 49, 51.

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the steady decline and amounted to less than half of their German counterparts. This pattern shows that the Russian government did not spend more on defense in part by design. Although a stagnant economy certainly encouraged austerity, the state treasury still retained room for an increase in the military budget. However, the Tsar listened to the finance ministry and chose not to raise defense expenditure sharply.30 The deliberate fiscal neglect of defense implies that the finance ministry had powerful strategic as well as economic arguments against expensive military proposals. In other words, the army’s case for arms buildup had rather weak military grounds. Military officials failed to convince the Tsar and the civilian leadership of the urgent need for emergency rearmament, in part because their military strategy was attrition-oriented. The best that an attrition strategy could offer was a costly and uncertain victory within the bounds of material resources available to Russia.31 Therefore, although power decline would make victory more difficult and costly to achieve at a later date, a war of attrition in the future would not be markedly worse than a similar war in the present. Simply put, given that Russia already suffered from poor capabilities, a negative power shift would do little to worsen the situation. The Russians would not lose a valuable military opportunity by waiting to engage in war. The Russian leadership certainly thought in these terms. Reutern, for example, made this point clear in the conference of 1873 and thereby defeated Obruchev’s case for railway and fortress construction. The finance minister recalled that the Russians had been able to defeat Napoleon in 1812 by retreating deep into the interior and wearing down his superior force.32 He argued that Russia could again employ a scorched earth strategy of attrition thereby fending off invaders in case of emergency. The military leadership retorted that such a strategy would prove too costly and risky since a strategic withdrawal might ignite nationalist uprisings in the western provinces including Poland.33 Although this concern was justified, military planners could not convince the Tsar that their expensive defense programs would produce a clearly superior alternative. Even if the Russian government had spared no money on defense, its attrition strategy could still have promised a costly and uncertain victory at best. Had the Russians adopted a maneuver strategy and anticipated losing it, they would have had a much stronger motive for preventive war and would likely have implemented the arms buildup proposals to the fullest possible extent.

Opportunity for war Contrary to the German case discussed in the following chapter, Russian possession of an attrition strategy meant that they never seriously considered the option of preventive war despite their power decline. This was true even for professional officers who tended to overemphasize pure military logic. The different attitudes toward preventive war of the Russian and the German armies did not originate from divergent organizational characters. In fact, the rivals shared many key beliefs and biases characteristic of modern military organizations.34

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For example, the Russian general staff, like its German counterpart, tended to mistake an adversary’s capability for its intentions and monopolized war planning through secrecy.35 Raymond Garthoff describes the two armies’ similarities and differences as follows: War was seen as it was elsewhere, as a normal diplomatic recourse, and hence too was background consideration weighing in all diplomatic dealings. . . . There was no strongly developed and consistent preventive war influence such as evolve in Imperial Germany during this period; on the other hand, military leaders did often stress “military necessity,” and favored military solutions in cases where more importantly political consideration outweighed, or should have outweighed, them.36 The Russians did not plan for a preventive war against Germany because they lacked confidence in their military capability. Such pessimism affected both military and civilian leaders between 1870 and 1890. In 1873, for example, Obruchev estimated that “the armed forces of Russia in their present condition [were] insufficient for the defense of her security.”37 Similarly, Chancellor A.M. Gorchakov admitted three years later that the Russian Empire was “a great nonpower” and objected to an aggressive policy in the Balkans.38 According to one historian, War Minister D.A. Miliutin “considered it to be in Russia’s interest that the danger of a European war be reduced, for no one knew better than he how unprepared the Empire was for military conflict.”39 Military victory over Turkey in 1878 did not boost Russia’s military confidence noticeably. A general staff memorandum of 1883 concluded: “there is no plan of action that could promise us true and reliable success at all” after surveying Russia’s strategic position in Europe.40 By 1887, the Russian government believed that its army lacked the capability to check an invasion from Austria let alone Germany. Russian confidence was so low that when Vienna complained about Russian reinforcements on the Galician front a few years later, Tsar Alexander ruefully remarked: “Thank God that they are still afraid of us!”41 In addition to the slim odds of victory that went along with the planned war of attrition, such a war would also bring socioeconomic disaster. A long attrition war would necessitate the marked expansion of armed forces, which would in turn bring non-gentry classes into the officer corps and recently assimilated subjects into the ranks. Such changes threatened to weaken the Tsar’s and gentry’s grip on the army.42 The increased demand for manpower would also lead the gentry to lose its traditional privileges in military service and shoulder heavier burdens for national security. These social problems would be accompanied by economic losses. A long war of attrition would greatly increase defense spending thereby straining the national economy to a breaking point. Moreover, state revenue would plummet, as Russian agricultural products would lose access to Central European markets and customs duties would go into steep decline.43 Such pessimism derived, to a substantial degree, from Russia’s attrition strategy, as prominent historians testify. William C. Fuller, Jr., notes that “Given its

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inherent riskiness, the interim plan [of attrition war] was, naturally enough, a source of great strategic anxiety and pessimism.”44 David Rich concurs with this view and reports that “the Main Staff’s anxiety typically strengthened St. Petersburg’s circumspection, rather than driving it to follow risky and aggressive policies.”45

Opportunity for diplomacy Although there was no direct military clash, Russo-German relations went through a major crisis in the wake of the Russo-Turkish war of 1877–78. Fortunately, the two states soon reached an agreement, which provided Russia with adequate compensation for its power decline thereby restoring a peaceful relationship. This section shows how Russia’s attrition strategy rendered the diplomatic settlement possible. Russia’s possession of an attrition strategy enhanced the prospects for peace in two ways. First, it imbued the Russian leadership with military pessimism, which in turn bred caution and accommodation. Second, it allowed Germany to measure Russian capability accurately and therefore offer adequate compensation for the latter’s relative decline. The Russo-German estrangement, 1877–80 Volatile Balkan politics sparked a major crisis between St. Petersburg and Berlin during this period, as it would do so again in 1914. Popular unrest broke out in the Turkish provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1875 and soon spread into the Bulgarian region. The conflict between the Turkish rulers and the Slav subjects then escalated, as Serbia seized the opportunity to initiate war against Turkey in June 1876. Contrary to initial expectations, the Turkish army defeated the Serbian opponent easily and threatened to invade Serbia. Although strong diplomatic pressures from St. Petersburg managed to forestall a Turkish occupation of Belgrade, the victorious Turks took harsh measures to subdue the Slavic insurgents in defiance of European protests. The Turkish atrocities and recalcitrance amplified pan-Slavic pressure for military intervention by the Russian government. Russia declared war against Turkey in the end, when German and Austrian approval came forth. After initial setbacks suffered at Plevna, the Russian army achieved major victories in the Balkans and Asia Minor and approached the Turkish capital of Constantinople. The Russian victors then imposed humiliating peace terms on the Turks at San Stefano in March 1878. The peace treaty made Russia a dominant power in the Balkans and Near East.46 Most importantly, the peace treaty was to create a large Bulgaria, which was expected to become the strongest local state and promote Russian interests at the expense of Austria-Hungary and Britain. The two rivals of Russia thus joined together and called forth a European congress to restore the balance of power. Russia anticipated that Germany would help it retain important gains attained at San Stefano.47 The Russians thought that their support of the Germans in 1866

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and 1870–71 entitled them to expect reciprocal assistance from Berlin.48 The Congress of Berlin completely shattered these Russian illusions about German friendship. Otto von Bismarck, president of the Congress, defined his position as “an honest broker” and tried to prevent the breakdown of negotiations rather than to promote his Russian ally’s interests.49 Consequently, Russia became isolated at the Congress and lost much of what it had fought for against Turkey. The Congress divided the Bulgaria created at San Stefano into two parts and granted St. Petersburg political authority only over the northern half. In addition, Russia managed to acquire only modest territories in Asia Minor and southern Bessarabia at the expense of Turkey and Rumania, respectively. In contrast, Austria-Hungary and Britain reaped considerable benefits without firing a shot.50 Vienna could add Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Serbia into its sphere of influence. Britain also secured almost all it wanted and boasted of achieving “peace with honor.” London limited Russian gains in Bulgaria and Asia Minor and acquired Cyprus as compensation.51 Many Russians regarded the Treaty of Berlin as a humiliating diplomatic defeat and angrily blamed Bismarck’s betrayal for the disastrous setback.52 The Tsar bitterly commented on the official document ratifying the treaty: “The congress of Berlin was only a breathing-space, a halt on this difficult path [to the final settlement of the eastern question]. Evaluating it from this point of view, Russia finds in the past faith in the future.”53 In his view, “a European coalition against Russia under the leadership of Prince Bismarck” was responsible for Russia’s frustration at Berlin.54 Chief of the General Staff Obruchev was also embittered by the thought that Germany “thanked” Russia for supporting German unification by vicious treachery.55 Russian leaders’ resentment toward Germany found blunt expression in the so-called slap-in-the-face letter of August 1879. The Tsar complained about Bismarck in the letter to the Kaiser: Is it worthy of a true statesman to attach importance to a personal quarrel when it is a question of the interests of two great states who are destined to live in harmony and of whom one rendered the other a service in 1870 that you said yourself you wished never to forget?56 Russian society also felt a sense of disappointment and betrayal. Russian journalists led by M.N. Katkov launched fierce attacks against Bismarck and the German government for alleged treachery. These accusations in turn infuriated the German chancellor who believed that Russia would have been much worse off without his generous help.57 Bismarck accused the Tsar of being unreliable and held Gorchakov’s government responsible for the collapse of the Dreikaiserbund. As the German press joined his counterattack against the Russian chancellor, there broke out an all-out “War of the Chancellors.”58 Russo-German relations further deteriorated as several simultaneous economic and military events reinforced mutual suspicions. In 1879, Berlin erected protective tariffs against Russian agricultural products and imposed a rigorous

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quarantine to prevent the spread of plague from Russia to Germany.59 These measures seriously impeded Russia’s post-war economic recovery since Germany was a major market for Russia’s corn, timber, cattle, and so on. Given the bad feelings the recent Congress aroused, many Russians interpreted the German policies as retaliation against their anti-German attitudes. St. Petersburg was also irritated by German political and economic penetration into the Near East. “The presence in Constantinople of military instructors and of a number of German personnel charged with the administration of finances,” the Tsar’s personal envoy warned in 1882, “prepares the ground slowly for the predominant influence of Germany in the Danubian basin, the Bosphorus, and the Dardanelles.”60 The influential journalist Katkov also published alarmist articles on the potential Russo-German rivalry in the Near East, thus amplifying these concerns. Mutual distrust grew in the military realm as well. Bismarck began to suspect Russia’s malign intentions behind the concentration of forces in Poland, the forward deployment of Russian cavalry, and Miliutin’s rearmament program.61 He also surmised that Gorchakov was probing into an anti-German alignment with France. Consequently, Berlin abandoned its prior position of equidistance and concluded the Dual Alliance with Vienna in October 1879.62 On the other hand, St. Petersburg had its own reasons for suspicion. Bismarck’s complaints about Russian military posture irritated St. Petersburg. The massive army in Poland had a fundamentally defensive mission and was markedly inferior to the Central Powers’ forces. Despite its forward deployment, the Russian cavalry could not mount a powerful offensive, given the advanced-guard position of the superior Germany cavalry.63 The more efficient German mobilization would enable German horsemen to outnumber their opponents from the opening of any hostilities. The fact that Bismarck overlooked the overall military situation and criticized Russia’s self-defense measures made Russian leaders suspicious of his true intentions. In addition, Russia suspected that the Austro-German alliance was directed against it and was of an offensive nature. Rapprochement, 1881–90 The upward spiral of tensions did not last for long as Russia and Germany soon restored a mutually beneficial relationship. In June 1881, Berlin and St. Petersburg reached a diplomatic settlement within the framework of the Three Emperors’ League.64 The rising Germany offered three key compensatory measures that the declining Russia found quite valuable. First, Germany promised to remain neutral and localize conflict if Russia fought with another great power other than Austria-Hungary. This stipulation would enable Russia to avoid facing a hostile coalition such as the one that had formed during the Crimean War. Given the Eastern Question and other colonial disputes, this commitment was clearly directed at Britain. Second, Germany would help close the Bosphorus and Dardanelles Straits to foreign warships. This measure would prevent a British naval attack on the vulnerable Black Sea shores thereby relieving Russia

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of a considerable defense burden. Third, Germany recognized that Bulgaria was part of Russia’s sphere of influence and approved of the eventual unification of the Bulgarians. This would allow Russia the opportunity to strengthen its influence over the Balkans and the Straits. In return, Russia promised Germany benevolent neutrality in case of a French attack. Vienna was almost forced to underwrite these commitments in exchange for Russian neutrality in an Italian war and a sphere of influence in the Balkans. On balance, however, it was clear that these agreements represented German compensation to Russia. Bismarck made these concessions in order to avoid a premature confrontation with Russia. Although both empires desired to avoid a duel, a military clash still appeared to be a real possibility in the event of a Franco-German War. When Bismarck issued an indirect threat of war against France in 1875, for example, Gorchakov threatened to intervene on the French side.65 Since a major war threatened to derail Germany’s economic boom, the German chancellor proclaimed: “The task of our policy is, if possible, to prevent war entirely, and if that is not possible at least to postpone it. I could not have a hand in any other policy.”66 Bismarck also feared that Russia might align with France thereby laying a cornerstone for a hostile balancing coalition. A diplomatic settlement was possible for two reasons. The first reason is that key Russian statesmen had little military confidence and were therefore quite accommodating. Thus, St. Petersburg was careful not to infringe upon German power and interests but instead sought to be compensated at Britain’s expense. Had the Russians insisted on German arms reduction or the sacrifice of Austrian security interests, for example, negotiation would likely have broken down. In fact, Russian foreign policy remained circumspect and conciliatory over the two decades, although pan-Slavism and Russian nationalism sporadically gained an upper hand in policy debates.67 For example, War Minister Miliutin strongly opposed the war against Turkey and later advised accommodation toward London and Vienna at the Congress of Berlin, arguing: “We could not expect to solve the whole Eastern Question in one campaign and it is better to accept the results of the Congress than go to war.”68 This accommodating attitude originated largely from Russia’s military pessimism. Miliutin preached caution and accommodation, for he clearly understood how unprepared the Russian Empire was for war.69 Diplomats such as N.K. Giers and Paul Shuvalov understood the unfavorable strategic situation as well and exercised a moderating influence on Russian foreign policy.70 Armed with sober strategic judgment, these statesmen persuaded the Tsar to accept Bismarck’s offer in spite of strong opposition from nationalist hard-liners.71 When Katkov at the zenith of his personal influence asked for the dismissal of the pro-German Foreign Minister Giers in 1887, the Tsar stood firmly behind the latter. “Under the present circumstances, [Giers] is most useful to me,” said the Tsar, “If war breaks out some time, which I recognize as the greatest calamity, then it will be prolonged and merciless one . . .. Caution is his most valuable asset.”72 As such, military pessimism encouraged circumspection and accommodation.

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Another reason for successful diplomacy was that Germany assessed Russia’s military capability accurately and thus offered adequate compensation. German and Russian estimates of military capability converged to a remarkable extent. The Russian general staff anticipated a protracted war of attrition, in which the army would be defeated and forced to retreat in the interior. Bismarck envisioned a long and costly war that would probably prove “ruinous but not desperate.” The Germans clearly understood that the war would inflict enormous losses on them and produce unpredictable consequences.73 Even if the German forces defeated the Russian army early on, Russia would continue to resist relying upon its large population and vast territory.74 This would render even a victorious war a “great calamity,” and the Germans therefore went to great lengths to accommodate the Russians and maintain peace.75 Had Bismarck underestimated Russian military capability to a large extent and had stronger military confidence, Germany would not have offered the Russians adequate compensation. The research finds mixed evidence that Russia’s military strategy created the two central conditions for successful diplomacy. On the one hand, there is much evidence that the attrition strategy imbued the Russian leadership with military pessimism, which in turn bred caution and accommodation as shown earlier. On the other hand, I can find no direct evidence that the attrition strategy helped Germany estimate Russia’s military capability accurately. However, the absence of miscalculation is congruent with the prediction that my theory makes given the declining state’s attrition strategy. Strategic theory also deserves some credit for the fact that it offers the sole theoretical explanation for the accurate assessment of military capability among the contending theories. The Russo-German agreement worked effectively for a considerable duration. Germany kept its promises by supporting Russia in the Near East and the Balkans. When a crisis arose over Afghanistan in 1885, Germany compelled the Turks not to open the Straits to British warships and thus helped Russia attain a favorable compromise with Britain.76 Berlin also strongly supported the Russian position in Bulgaria, a keystone of Russia’s sphere of influence in the Balkans.77 When the Bulgarians under Prince Alexander of Battenberg tried to free themselves from Russian interference in the mid-1880s, Germany stood firmly behind Russia and deterred interventions from Austria-Hungary and Britain. Bismarck made it clear that if Prince Alexander wished to “be something other than a Russian viceroy, then he has misunderstood his position.”78 The German chancellor also bluntly warned Vienna: “Loyally and unreservedly as we Germans would back you up if Russia attacked you, we could never contemplate the employment of the German army as an auxiliary force in the extension of Austro-Hungarian influence on the lower Danube.”79 The Russo-German agreement also survived major challenges in the late 1880s. Although growing hostility between St. Petersburg and Vienna finally destroyed the Three Emperors’ League in 1887, the Russo-German rapprochement continued its existence in a new form of the bilateral “Reinsurance Treaty.”80 The political cooperation also withstood a heated economic conflict that reopened in 1887 and endured into the early 1890s.

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Competing theories Offense–defense theory Offense–defense theorists have yet to analyze Russian foreign policy during this period in detail. In the only available account, Stephen Van Evera argues that “no European power harbored large expansionist aims against its peers, and no major wars erupted,” since perception of defensive advantage was prevalent.81 Based on his coding of the offense–defense balance, I can draw the following predictions from the theory: •

•

•

Preventive motive. The Russians had weak motive for preventive war. Since the “cult of the offensive” did not exist yet, the declining Russians foresaw little military vulnerability in the future. Opportunity for diplomacy. Russia could attain an acceptable diplomatic settlement, because the Germans were willing to make substantial concessions due to their belief in defense dominance. The faith in defense also eliminated a first-mover incentive and allowed diplomacy to run its course. In addition, Russia and Germany were unafraid of being cheated and thus willing to reach an agreement. Opportunity for war. Russia lacked confidence in a military victory in an early war, since the perceived defensive advantage induced Russian leaders to anticipate the failure of offensive operations against Germany.

The research finds mixed evidence for offense–defense theory concerning the Russians’ preventive motive. On the one hand, some civilian and military leaders showed attitudes consistent with the theory’s predictions. For instance, Finance Minister Reutern and his advocates estimated that Russia could defend its territory by exploiting strategic depth and nationalistic sentiment, as shown earlier. As the theory predicts, this faith in the power of defense seems to have contributed to their weak motive for preventive action. To take another example, War Minister P.S. Vannovskii studied the implications of increased firepower and concluded in the late 1880s: “the disturbed balance between attack and defense in favor of the former forces a transition to the enlargement and reconstruction of fortresses.”82 He also had a strong motive for preventive war as noted. His faith in offense and strong preventive motive are consistent with the predictions of offense–defense theory.83 On the other hand, other leaders’ outlooks clearly contradict the theory’s predictions. For example, Obruchev believed in a significant defensive advantage yet harbored a strong motive for preventive action. The influential general wrote in 1880 that “the breadth of our country, its low population density and lack of roads are a defensive force before which an invading army must think twice.”84 Given such faith in defense, Obruchev should have foreseen little military vulnerability and thus had a weak preventive motive, according to the theory. In fact, Obruchev strongly feared the consequences of power shifts and was among the staunchest advocates for crash military programs to mitigate the decline.

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Offense–defense theory performs poorly in accounting for the success of diplomacy. Although defense-dominance well explains the fact that Germany and Russia were not too reluctant to make concessions, there is enough evidence to refute the theory’s predictions with regard to first-mover advantage and mutual trust. Despite perception of defensive advantage, there existed noticeable incentives for moving first in this period. Given its slow mobilization, the Russian army wanted to prepare for war secretly over the course of a crisis and start mobilizing its forces first in the event of war.85 Russia also planned to launch a preemptive cavalry raid en masse at the opening of hostilities to delay German mobilization. The German general staff was also determined to deliver a spoiling first blow before the completion of Russian mobilization.86 For example, when an imminent invasion from Russia was anticipated in 1887, Helmut von Moltke and his generals advised a preemptive attack despite their belief in defensive advantage.87 Moreover, Russia and Germany were afraid of being cheated even though both had faith in defense. With few exceptions, Russian statesmen had no illusions about Germany’s trustworthiness, especially after Bismarck’s infamous “betrayal” in the Congress of Berlin. Military leaders even feared a full-scale invasion from the Central Powers.88 Similar suspicions were also observed in Berlin. The Kaiser and Bismarck suspected malign intentions behind the concentration of Russian forces in the Polish salient in the 1880s. St. Petersburg also lacked a good reputation of keeping its promises, for it had reneged on two agreements in the 1870s. Gorchakov had taken advantage of the Franco-German War and repudiated the agreement on demilitarization of the Black Sea unilaterally in 1871.89 Russia then violated the Budapest convention with AustriaHungary and tried to establish a large Bulgaria at San Stefano. The 1880s also witnessed Russia’s diplomatic feelers to France and other suspicious behaviors, which continually alarmed the German government.90 Offense–defense theory can explain Russia’s military pessimism reasonably well. Because of geography and technology, a successful offensive operation against Germany was extremely difficult.91 Russian generals calculated that lakes and forests in East Prussia would hinder effective coordination of their advancing forces.92 The German defender then could exploit its efficient rail networks and maneuver to destroy the canalized Russian forces in detail. These considerations contributed significantly to St. Petersburg’s military pessimism, especially with regard to offensive operations. Dynamic differentials theory The relevant case has not yet been analyzed from the perspective of dynamic differentials theory. Therefore, I need to measure the perceived military balance first and then deduce predictions from the theory. The Russian army was markedly inferior to its German opponent during this period, and St. Petersburg was well aware of this fact. Military leadership

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concluded in 1872: “contemporary warfare required the ability to concentrate rapidly at the frontier forces on a scale that no state could afford to maintain in peacetime.”93 Since then, the capacity of mobilization and concentration remained the sine qua non of military power in Russian generals’ mind.94 In this critical field, Russia was noticeably inferior due to its deficient rail system, which included only 7 strategic lines compared with Germany’s 14 and Austria’s 6 in 1887. Although cavalry raids were planned to disrupt the concentration of enemy forces, Russian generals well knew that this stopgap measure would not prove effective, since “Germany’s cavalry . . . will surpass ours along the border from the fourth or fifth day of mobilization” and could wreak havoc on the concentrating Russian forces.95 The Russian army was also equipped with outdated weapons due to its retarded rearmament.96 To take a sobering example, even the Turks had better rifles and artilleries than the Russians during the war of 1877–78.97 Russian commanders and troops also lacked initiative and intellect in comparison with their German counterparts.98 Although Russia had a larger total number of loyal troops, the above-mentioned deficiencies far outweighed this merit, leading military leaders to perceive marked military inferiority.99 Obruchev thus wrote to Foreign Minister Giers in despair: “There is no doubt that Germany and Austria-Hungary are incomparably stronger than we and can mobilize and concentrate their armies on the frontier much more rapidly than we. Our borders are completely open.”100 Given Russia’s perception of marked military inferiority, dynamic differentials theory makes the following predictions: •

•

•

Preventive motive. The Russians had a strong motive for preventive action, since they foresaw that Germany would achieve military predominance in the near future. Opportunity for diplomacy. Russia made no genuine effort for diplomatic settlement, because it was concerned about Germany’s reneging and thus was reluctant to make an agreement. At any rate, a settlement was shortlived and unstable. Opportunity for war. Russia had little military confidence since Germany enjoyed marked military superiority.

The evidence plainly refutes the prediction concerning Russia’s preventive motive. The Russians were well aware that Germany had already become “the greatest single military power of the continent” in 1871 and might achieve military predominance in the foreseeable future.101 Despite this belief, overall they had a moderate motive for preventive action instead of a strong preventive motive predicted by the theory. Whereas military officers feared the consequences of power decline, civilians such as Finance Minister Reutern did not share the army’s anxiety, as noted above. Dynamic differentials theory also fails to explain the success of diplomacy. St. Petersburg worked hard to achieve a diplomatic settlement with Berlin, contrary to the theory’s prediction. For example, it was Russia that approached

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Germany and proposed a rapprochement in the aftermath of the Congress of Berlin. Although there existed no complete mutual trust, Russia had just enough faith in Germany’s trustworthiness and did not hesitate for long to strike a deal. The two states maintained their agreements in the form of the Dreikaiserbund and the Reinsurance Treaty for almost two decades. In contrast, there is strong evidence that military disadvantage contributed significantly to Russia’s military pessimism. As shown in Obruchev’s letter to Giers quoted above, inferior strategic railways and mobilization capacity kept Russian leaders in a pessimistic mood throughout the period. Power transition theory The absence of war between Germany and Russia constitutes a perplexing anomaly for power transition theory: both war-promoting conditions identified by the theory seem to have been present during the examined period. According to power transition scholars, Imperil Germany was a rising dissatisfied state aspiring to change the international status quo.102 And Russia was a significant obstacle to this alleged German aspiration, because Russia repeatedly stood by France – an alleged underwriter of the international order – in its confrontations with Germany such as the “war-in-sight” crisis of 1875. Therefore, power transition theory should predict that Germany would have had a desire for war against Russia. In addition to the motive, according to the theory, the Germans also should have perceived a good opportunity to fight because Germany either reached parity with or overtook Russia in power during the period, depending on what GNP data are used (see Table A.4 and the above section on power shifts). However, the historical records show that Bismarck actually anticipated great difficulties in subduing Russia with force and tried his best to avoid a military conflict.

Sources of military strategy Historical pattern supports my argument emphasizing the importance of relative leadership quality in devising maneuver strategies. Russia could not create a viable maneuver strategy against Germany because its military leadership lacked superior strategic knowledge. St. Petersburg made every effort to collect strategic intelligence in order to compensate for its technological backwardness and consequently acquired some clues about the German war plans.103 However, the collected information was insufficient for discerning German strategic intention and weakness. Also, Russian military leaders who often acquired their positions through social status rather than professional achievement could not create exploitable vulnerable points through effective deception. Their better educated and trained German counterparts were usually one step ahead in the contest of knowledge and gambits. In contrast, the Russian general staff had a good understanding of Vienna’s war plans through effective espionage, thereby envisioning a maneuver-based campaign against the Austro-Hungarian army.104

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In contrast, available historical evidence contradicts the proposition that while weak states adopt maneuver strategies in order to avoid an unfavorable contest of power, strong states employ attrition strategies in order to make the most of their material strength. Contrary to these predictions, the Russians actually adopted an attrition strategy against Germany despite their perceived military weakness, while employing a maneuver strategy against Austria-Hungary that they considered as inferior. The historical research finds no unambiguous support for the claim that the Russian attrition strategy reflected the defense-favoring environment. Military leaders had divergent opinions about the offense–defense balance as already discussed. War Minister Vannovskii perceived an offensive advantage enhanced by improved firepower, whereas Chief of the General Staff Obruchev saw defensedominance in geographical factors. Nevertheless, both generals accepted the attrition strategy as the sole viable option. Neither was the defensive attrition strategy the outcome of a weak preventive motive. As noted, military officers harbored a strong preventive motive throughout the 1870–90 period. Nevertheless, the general staff adopted an attrition strategy in spite of its practical monopoly over strategic planning.105

Responses to counterarguments Scholars often argue that it was the great German Chancellor Bismarck who kept the precarious peace in Europe over the two decades. The “Bismarckian Peace” thesis consists of two components. First, Bismarck wisely and bravely sought to maintain the status quo and peace in the face of strong domestic pressures to the opposite. According to one account, “by championing the status quo and refusing further expansion in Europe after 1871, Bismarck . . . defied the wishes of the German people and bureaucracies . . . [and] alone restrained Germany.”106 Second, Bismarck had exceptional diplomatic genius to realize his peaceful intentions through a masterful web of alliances. Henry Kissinger comments on his rare capacity, noting: “where Bismarck failed was in having doomed his society to a style of policy which could only have been carried on had a great man emerged in every generation . . . his capacities exceeded his society’s ability to absorb them.”107 Although this viewpoint makes valid claims pertaining to Bismarck’s talent as a diplomat, this popular thesis exaggerates Bismarck’s individual contributions to the Russo-German rapprochement. It is true that the Iron Chancellor wanted to protect the status quo and avoid war. However, he did so only because German power was on the rise. As shown above, the German economy was outgrowing its competitors between 1870 and 1890. Berlin also needed time to consolidate the remarkable gains attained through a series of wars in the 1860s and early 1870s. Therefore, the status quo and peace were beneficial to the rising German Empire. Had Germany instead suffered considerable power decline, Bismarck and Kaiser Wilhelm I might have seen the status quo quite differently and acted aggressively.

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Bismarck also did not face a formidable diplomatic obstacle to maintaining peace: since the Russian strategy was attrition-oriented, no extraordinary ability was required to assess military capability accurately. Therefore, Bismarck’s diplomatic genius may have been no precondition for the Russo-German settlement and thus rather redundant. There is no doubt that Bismarck had excellent diplomatic skills overall. Even his nemesis Katkov acknowledged that the German chancellor seemed to “possess the talisman before which all obstacles dissolve and all locks open.”108 However, it is not clear whether Bismarck had an exceptional ability to discern the type of a neighbor’s military strategy in particular. Without such a skill, the “brilliant diplomatic tactician” might still have failed to offer sufficient compensation to the Russians if they had adopted a deceptive maneuver strategy.

Conclusion This case study shows that an attrition strategy shapes the conditions for preventive war as my theory posits. The research finds three sets of supportive evidence. First, all the three war-preventing conditions are observed as my theory predicts and can be in large part traced to Russia’s attrition strategy as their source. Russian leadership had only a moderate motive for preventive action. The attrition strategy promised a long and costly war, which did not seem markedly more attractive than a future war of attrition. Russian leaders thus concluded that power decline would cause no marked decrease in military capability. In addition, Russia could acquire acceptable compensation and reach a durable settlement. Although Germany’s disappointing attitude at the Congress of Berlin damaged Russo-German relations, the two countries soon reached a mutually acceptable agreement. This settlement was possible because Russia’s attrition strategy encouraged caution and conciliation in St. Petersburg. Russia also dared not to consider preventive war despite its significant power decline because its attrition strategy aroused military pessimism. Although Russia was not entirely satisfied with the Central Powers’ compensations, the attrition strategy discouraged Russia from initiating a war. Second, the three intervening phenomena shaped the major aspects of Russian decision-making, as my theory predicts. In combination, a moderate preventive motive, military pessimism, and successful diplomacy sufficed to produce peaceful power shifts over the period 1870–90. Third, military strategy shaped more significantly the peace-promoting phenomena than the offense–defense balance and the balance of power did. My strategy-centered theory overall outperformed its competitors that focus primarily on material conditions.

4

The Schlieffen Plan and World War I

The historic case of World War I has been the main battleground for rival theories of power shifts and war. Scholars claim that their preferred theory can offer a compelling – if not superior – explanation for the war’s origins. In this chapter, I join the high-stakes battle and see how well my theory fares in accounting for the monumental event. For this purpose, I trace how the German maneuver strategy called “the Schlieffen Plan” shaped the declining German state’s preventive motive and the opportunities for diplomacy and war vis-à-vis Russia in particular. I also examine how these intervening phenomena in turn led to war in the summer of 1914. This analysis pairs up nicely with that of the earlier peaceful shifts in power presented in the previous chapter: two rivals – Germany and Russia – experienced two major power shifts consecutively in four decades but avoided a war in one occasion and fought a war in the other. These contrasting outcomes constitute an interesting puzzle. This chapter also reevaluates empirical supports for alternative accounts that the competing theories offer to the case of World War I. My theory predicts that a maneuver strategy like the Schlieffen Plan produces the following effects and thereby increases the risk of preventive war: •

•

Preventive motive. The declining state has a strong motive for preventive actions. As a result of power shifts, the rising state can deploy larger and more efficient forces. The decliner thus may be forced to divert a portion of mobile forces and reinforce its defenses opposite the enemy’s growing main body, fearing that the entire defense may collapse prematurely. Therefore, mobile forces will become too weak to deliver a decisive blow beyond a certain point. Consequently, the declining state will come to fear that the maneuver strategy will be obsolete in the near future and will become prisoner of a “use it or lose it” mentality. Opportunity for diplomacy. The declining state cannot gain sufficient concessions through diplomacy. Since the maneuver strategy is deceptive, the opponent will likely underestimate the decliner’s military capability. Moreover, to the extent that the rising state knows the content of the decliner’s strategy, it will be tempted to take advantage of weaknesses in the war plan. Consequently, the riser will become confident on its chance of victory and

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•

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thus reluctant to make adequate compensation. In addition, since the maneuver strategy imbues military optimism, the decliner aims at a major diplomatic victory and becomes less accommodating in negotiations. Opportunity for war. The declining state has strong confidence in its military capability because the maneuver strategy induces it to expect a quick and decisive victory.

The historical analysis finds strong evidence to support these arguments. German policy-makers harbored both a strong preventive motive and military optimism and experienced the failure of diplomacy. There is also cogent evidence that Germany’s maneuver strategy indeed caused these war-promoting conditions, which combined to offer a sufficient explanation for World War I. The research, on the other hand, finds only weak evidence overall for offense–defense theory. As Stephen Van Evera shows, the “cult of the offensive” apparently coincided with all the war-promoting conditions.1 However, there is little direct evidence that faith in offense actually shaped military planning and policy-making in the pre-war period. Although some superficial correlations are observed, there is not enough evidence to establish a causal relationship. It is one thing to acknowledge that German leaders expressed their faith in the generic superiority of offense; it is another to assert that this general belief led policy-makers to see a favorable chance of victory in a specific military campaign. Contrary to Van Evera’s claims, the research finds that Germany and its adversaries’ military planning was in fact underpinned by a common perception of defensive advantages at both strategic and tactical levels. Dynamic differentials theory also fails to explain the war-promoting conditions adequately. There is no clear evidence that the Germans wanted a preventive war because they foresaw an aggression by a militarily superior Russia in the near future. Also, only mixed evidence can be found to support Dale Copeland’s claim that German leaders consistently perceived marked military superiority to Russia and France. They sometimes believed in military superiority while denying it on other occasions. Finally, Germany did seek a genuine diplomatic solution to military decline in July 1914, contrary to Copeland’s claims. Although diplomacy failed in the end, German suspicion about Russia’s credibility was not a critical determinant of this unfortunate outcome. Finally, power transition theory finds little empirical support. Its assertion that the Germans went to war in 1914 in order to overthrow British dominance is undermined by the fact that they actually desired to relent their colonial and naval competition with Britain at that time and keep it out of the war. Overwhelming evidence also shows it was German fear of Russia’s rise that primarily motivated its decision for war. The theory also cannot explain German military confidence. There is no evidence that Germany was sanguine about the outcome of conflict because of its superior power to Britain. On the contrary, the distribution of aggregate power greatly worried German leaders. The remainder of this chapter is organized into eight sections. In the first two sections, I describe the maneuver-oriented character of the German strategy and

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shifts in the balance of power between 1890 and 1914. The following three sections then show how the German maneuver strategy contributed to a strong motive for preventive war, diplomatic failure, German military optimism, and eventually the outbreak of war. The sixth section evaluates offense–defense theory, dynamic differentials theory, and power transition theory. In the seventh section, I defend my arguments against three counterclaims. The final section summarizes major findings and briefly compares this case of war-prone power shifts with the previous case of the Russo-German rapprochement.

German military strategy Germany possessed a maneuver strategy known as the Schlieffen Plan from 1906 to the outbreak of war.2 The Germans calculated that the Franco-Russian Alliance made a two-front war inevitable, whether war would grow out of political conflicts in the east or west. Therefore, the German general staff devised an integrated war plan for both eastern and western contingencies. Regardless of who was chief political antagonist, Germany planned to defeat “the nearest and most dangerous [French] enemy” first before turning eastward against Russia.3 This west-first strategy was designed to exploit slow Russian mobilization to the fullest extent. The German war plan employed a typical method of a flanking maneuver. In the west, the German army would advance through Belgium and thus outflank the French army concentrating along the German frontier. At the onset of war, the weak German left wing would guard the French frontier and launch a fixing attack toward the city of Nancy if an opportunity arose.4 A small army would also check Russian thrusts into East Prussia, east of the Vistula River. In the meantime, the strong right wing would sweep through the Belgian territory and plunge into the region of Mézières-Maubeuge-Lille-Dunkirk, which was “only fortified in parts and at the moment almost unoccupied.”5 The German mobile forces would then advance toward and envelop Paris, the fortified center of French command, control, and communications.6 The German army would thus entrap the French army between the national capital and the Franco-German frontier. Once fallen into the trap, the French forces would surrender or face certain annihilation. Germany would then sign a peace treaty with France and transfer its troops to the eastern front and defeat Russia. These stunning triumphs would force Britain to reach a compromise with Germany.7 To be successful, the Schlieffen Plan depended on two factors. First, the German army needed to deceive its opponents concerning the direction of its main offensive. A lightening victory in the west required the French army to concentrate along the German border and leave the Belgian frontier open. If France had known that the German main offensive would come through Belgium, it would have reinforced and extended its left wing to the English Channel. The French might even have attacked the flank of the advancing German right wing and dealt it a devastating blow. Therefore, the successful execution of the Schlieffen Plan depended on French ignorance of German

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strategic intentions to a large extent. In the east, it was important that Russia was kept guessing whether the German army would initially concentrate in the east or west. Germany was to leave only a small covering force in East Prussia initially and transfer forces from the west in case of a powerful Russian offensive. Therefore, the sooner Russia launches a major attack, the smaller the forces Germany would have available in the west. To the extent that a German main thrust in the east seemed possible, the Russians would be reluctant to launch an early offensive. Second, the German left wing and the East Prussian army needed enough strength to check the French and Russian attacks until the maneuver through Belgium could produce decisive results. In the case of war, France and Russia would launch offensives against Germany sooner or later. The Schlieffen Plan could succeed only if German forces guarding the French and Russian borders were strong enough to hold the frontline until the envelopment of the French army was completed.

Shifts in the balance of power Russia industrialized rapidly and closed the economic gap with Germany considerably between 1890 and 1913. Russia’s gross national product (GNP) increased by about 150 percent, while Germany added to its GNP by some 90 percent over the two decades.8 Whereas Russia had 80 percent of Germany’s GNP in 1890, their GNPs were roughly comparable by 1913. Russia consumed about 5 times more energy in 1913 than it did in 1890, while Germany consumed 2.6 times more energy in 1913 than it did in 1890. Russian energy consumption increased from 15 percent of German consumption to 29 percent over the same period.9 Compared with 1890 levels, Russia produced five times more iron/steel in 1913, while Germany manufactured about four times more. And while Russia’s iron/steel production amounted to 23 percent of Germany’s in 1890, this figure had increased to 28 percent by 1913. The Russian economy grew in sophistication as well as in aggregate size. The main force behind its economic modernization was capital-intensive industries employing advanced Western technologies.10 Although the Russian economy suffered from the Russo-Japanese War and the ensuing revolution, this was merely a temporary setback. As the national economy expanded, the Russian government spent more on defense and launched a series of armament programs.11 Between 1890 and 1913, Russia’s military expenditure rose by 180 percent, while Germany’s increased by 140 percent. While its defense budget was 24 percent smaller than Germany’s in 1890, it was spending almost as much as its neighbor by 1913. The military buildup culminated with the Duma’s passage of the “Great Program” in June 1914. This program authorized the expansion of the standing army by nearly 500,000 men, or 40 percent, by 1917.12 As a result, Russia would have 2,000,000 men in its standing army in 1917. The number of officers would increase by about 30 percent as well. Armaments would also improve significantly: each corps would now receive 132 field guns rather than 108.13

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There were improvements in military infrastructure as well. Strategic rail networks were to be expanded in Poland and western Russia.14 This prospect especially frightened German planners, as they believed “the conduct of war in the present and future has railways as its guiding star.”15 In January 1914, France agreed to loan the Russians 2,500 million francs to build over 5,000 kilometers of strategic railways by 1918.16 As a result, the Russian army would be able to complete mobilization in just three days more than Germany in 1917.17 On the eve of the war, it seemed clear that Russia was winning the arms race against Germany. While Germany had nearly reached its limit of military capacity, Russia’s military potential appeared limitless.18 The military balance between the opposing coalitions also shifted to Germany’s disadvantage. The Austro-Hungarian Empire – Germany’s most powerful ally – had become another “sick man” of Europe and faced a serious threat of disintegration as nationalist movements gained momentum.19 Most importantly, the multi-ethnic Austrian army became less cohesive and less reliable. Given the fact that two-thirds of the population was Slavic, the Dual monarchy was unlikely to hold the army together in a war against Russia.20 On the other hand, the Russian coalition was gaining in strength. Serbia – the outpost of the Pan-Slavic nationalist movement – had emerged stronger in the wake of the Balkan Wars of 1912–13 and had raised a 400,000-strong army by 1914.21 With its power and prestige rising, the Serbian state resorted to bold political agitation against Vienna, seeking a political union with Montenegro at the same time. Rumania was also apparently defecting from its secret alliance with the Central Powers while expanding its army to 400,000 troops.22 Bucharest vied for the loyalty of the Rumanian diaspora within the Austro-Hungarian state. Against these forces, Austria-Hungary could deploy only 442,000 men and 27,000 officers.23 In the west, the French army was improving. The three-year service law that passed in the Chamber of Deputies on 7 August 1913 was designed to produce a new French army corps and augment the efficiency of military force.24 As the number of regulars increased by about one-sixth, the army would be of better quality and take less time to mobilize. France had also substantially improved its railways thereby reducing mobilization time by a day between 1912 and 1914.25

Preventive motive Germany’s deteriorating strategic position brought apprehensions to the minds of all its key leaders.26 The idea of preventive war was initially confined to a small number of army officers. The motive for preventive war then grew stronger and more widespread within the officer corps as war loomed. Civilian leaders also came to share soldiers’ fears in the end, although to a lesser extent.27 Key German military leaders all feared the strategic consequences of power shifts and seriously considered a preventive war in the pre-war years. Helmuth von Moltke, the chief of the German general staff, said in the “War Council” of

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8 December 1912: “I believe a war is unavoidable and the sooner the better.”28 At a meeting in Karlsbad in May 1914, Moltke told the chief of the Austrian general staff: “to wait meant to lessen our chances; it was impossible to compete with Russia as regards quantity.”29 After the meeting, Moltke confessed his opinion regarding preventive war to Foreign Secretary Gottlieb von Jagow, who recorded: The prospects of the future seriously worried him. Russia will have completed her armaments in 2 to 3 years. The military superiority of our enemies would be so great then that he did not know how we might cope with them. Now we would still be more or less a match for them. In his view there was no alternative to waging a preventive war in order to defeat the enemy as long as we could still more or less pass the test. The chief of the General Staff left it at my discretion to gear our policy to an early unleashing of war.30 In June 1914, Moltke again expressed his desire for preventive war: “If only things would finally boil over – we are ready; the sooner, the better for us.”31 Georg von Waldersee, the chief quartermaster in the general staff, expressed similar concerns: At the moment Italy is still on the side of the Triple Alliance and Emperor Francis Joseph’s personality still holds the hotch-potch Danubian Monarchy together. . . . But how long? Will these things perhaps change in favor [of the Entente Powers] quite soon?32 Civilian leaders shared the military’s preventive motive on the eve of war. Upon learning about the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir apparent to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Kaiser Wilhelm II commented: “Now or Never . . .. The Serbs will have to be straightened out, and soon.”33 It was also noted that “oppressed by his worries, [the Kaiser] even considered whether it might not be better to attack than to wait.”34 Sharing his concerns, Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg stated: “the future belongs to Russia, which grows and weighs upon us as an increasingly terrifying nightmare.”35 It was also recorded that he “doubted whether it was worthwhile to plant new trees [at his estate in Hohenfinow], since the Russians would be there in a few years anyway.”36 The gloomy situation in Austria-Hungary added to his apprehensions: Austria [grows] weaker and more immobile; its subversion from the north and southeast is very far advanced. At any rate [it is] incapable of going to war as our ally for the German interest. The Entente knows that we are consequently completely paralyzed.37 Jagow also looked to the future with increasing concern. “According to all competent analyses,” he noted:

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The Schlieffen Plan and World War I Russia will be ready for war in a few years. Then the number of its soldiers will crush us; then it will have completed construction of its Baltic Fleet and strategic railways. In the meantime, our group will grow ever weaker.38

Austro-Hungarian leaders also shared pessimism about the long-term strategic situation and supported a preventive war. On 3 March 1914, Conrad von Hötzendorf, the chief of the Austrian general staff, reportedly wondered: “Whether we should wait until France and Russia were ready to attack us together or whether it was not more desirable to settle the ‘inevitable’ conflict earlier; the Slav question too was becoming increasingly difficult and dangerous.”39 Hötzendorf also told Foreign Minister Leopold Berchtold “that the reciprocal power-relation was slowly worsening for us, the longer the decision was being delayed.”40 In the Council of Ministers of 7 July 1914, War Minister Ritter von Krobatin argued “it would be better to go to war immediately, rather than at some later period, because the balance of power must in course of time change to our disadvantage.”41 Karl von Stürgkh, president of the council, as well as Berchtold agreed with the war minister and argued for “the annihilation of Serbia.”42 The German preventive motive was particularly strong in 1914 because power shifts were expected to render the Schlieffen Plan obsolete in a few years. German leaders anticipated that the Schlieffen Plan could not be successfully implemented by 1917, as the preconditions for its success would soon disappear.43 The Germany army by then could no longer hold the Lorraine and East Prussian fronts until a mobile operation through Belgium could bring about decision in the west. Also, it would become increasingly difficult to hide German strategic intentions. Facing the prospect of losing the maneuver strategy, German leaders became prisoners of a use it or lose it mentality. In addition to the deteriorating material balance, Germany therefore had an additional compelling reason to worry about its future military position. The Germans calculated that “By 1917 the extremely favourable conditions of the time when Schlieffen Plan had been conceived – the military vacuum east of Germany – would no longer exist.”44 The Schlieffen Plan envisioned 13 German divisions pitted against 19 and one-half Russian divisions in East Prussia.45 The weak Eighth Army alone would not be able to check a Russian onslaught into East Prussia if the offensive came during the first three weeks of war.46 By 1914, Russia was convinced that the main German offensive would be initially directed against France, and thus, only a small screening force would guard the German eastern frontier. Therefore, Russia planned to invade East Prussia as early as 15 days after the order of mobilization, believing that it could deploy numerically superior forces even before mobilization was completed.47 The expansion of the standing army and strategic railways would further expedite mobilization and concentration thereby helping Russia launch the offensive at an earlier date with greater strength. The German general staff had expected that a strong Austrian offensive could tie down five out of seven Russian armies and thereby relieve the German East

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Prussian army.48 However, it appeared increasingly doubtful that AustriaHungary would be able to mount a powerful offensive at an early date. Russian railways had superior troop-carrying capacity to Austro-Hungarian railroads in 1914. Russia could utilize five two-rail and four one-rail lines for deployment, whereas Austria-Hungary had seven one-rail lines.49 As a result, the Russians had the capacity to transport 260 trains per day to the border, while Austrian capacity amounted to only 153 trains. This gap would widen over the coming years as the result of Russia’s railway-expansion program. Austria-Hungary would thus be unable to achieve numerical superiority in the early weeks of a confrontation. Consequently, the Austrian army would likely lose both the will and the capability to launch a powerful early offensive against Russia. For this reason, Moltke worried that “Austria-Hungary’s offensive capability would not last long.”50 Power decline also posed a serious strategic problem in the west. The French army could deploy a larger and more efficient force against Germany, as reformative measures began to take effect and the military threat from Italy receded.51 Therefore, Moltke and Erich Ludendorff, the operations section head of the general staff, came to fear that the French army might break through the weakly defended Lorraine front before the envelopment of French forces was complete.52 As a result, military planners felt pressed to strengthen the army’s left wing at the expense of the right-wing maneuver forces. Alfred von Schlieffen, Moltke’s predecessor, had originally proposed to deploy 59 divisions north of Metz and 9 to the south in 1905.53 In contrast, Moltke actually deployed 55 divisions on the right wing and 23 divisions on the left in 1914. This alteration of force disposition over time did not result entirely from Moltke’s timidity or logistical concerns.54 In a 28 December 1912 memorandum, Schlieffen himself recommended to strengthen the left wing for similar fear of a French breakthrough in Lorraine and to abandon the Cannae conception of the weak left wing luring the French army into German territory.55 The expectation was that France would be able to deploy stronger forces against Germany in the near future as the three-year service law took full effect. Moreover, the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) of six infantry and one cavalry divisions could also free additional French troops for the planned offensive.56 Consequently, the German army would face stronger pressure on the Lorraine frontier and might be forced to further reinforce its left wing at the expense of its right wing. The weakening maneuver forces looked even more threatening, given that Belgium planned to expand its army from 100,000 to 340,000.57 The Belgians also seemed unlikely to let the German army to pass freely or fight on the German side.58 In sum, Germany’s worsening power position might eventually make it impossible to execute the Schlieffen Plan with reasonable confidence in the near future.59 Loss of the maneuver strategy would leave Germany with only an attrition strategy for the foreseeable future. German leaders regarded this alternative as highly unattractive for understandable reasons. Like many fellow Europeans,

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they subscribed to the common belief that a long war would ruin their highly developed industrial economy.60 For example, Schlieffen did not believe that it was “possible to carry on a strategy of attrition when the maintenance of millions of men involves billions in expenditure.”61 A war of attrition would also require industrial readjustments, and these would carry considerable economic costs. Furthermore, given the high level of economic interdependence among European nations, national economies might not be able to survive international economic dislocations that an attrition war would bring about.62 In Schlieffen’s view, such a war would prove to be a disaster “in an age when the nation’s existence rests on the uninterrupted functioning of trade and industry.”63 This problem was likely to be especially severe for Germany since it lacked “selfsufficiency of food stuffs and vital raw materials.”64 German decision-makers also dreaded potential social disruptions caused by national mobilization for an attrition war.65 Such a war would require the mobilization of untapped manpower, which in turn meant more middle-class officers in the officer corps and more working-class men in the ranks. Many German leaders wanted to avoid this undesirable outcome, fearing that such a change might reduce the army’s political loyalty and weaken the social fabric of Imperial Germany. Worse still, Germany had a poor chance of winning an attrition war since it was at a disadvantage in terms of overall power. The Triple Entente had a 63 percent larger combined GNP than the Austro-German Alliance in 1913, although the Central Powers enjoyed a small advantage in steel production.66 The combined population of the Entente Powers was 2.2 times that of the Central Powers. This material unbalance would only get worse over time if the Austro-Hungarian Empire collapsed. Given these realities, it is no surprise that German leadership feared losing its maneuver strategy and considered preventive war.

Opportunity for diplomacy Germany attempted to mitigate its power decline by extorting compensation from Russia. However, a diplomatic victory was difficult to achieve. Because of the deceptive nature of the maneuver-oriented Schlieffen Plan, Russia and France underestimated Germany’s military capability. They calculated that it was possible to exploit German weaknesses and achieve a quick and decisive victory. Such military confidence in turn induced Russia and France to reject the German request and caused the breakdown of diplomacy in the July crisis. Germany’s aims and diplomatic strategy On 28 June 1914, a Serbian nationalist assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo. Germany sought to exploit this incident as the pretext for extorting compensation from Russia. Although the military may have

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preferred an outright preventive war to diplomatic victory, the generals acquiesced to diplomatic initiatives for the moment, hoping for a major diplomatic success.67 As Bethmann made clear, the goal of German diplomacy was the elimination of “Serbia, the focus of Pan-Slavist agitation, as a political factor from the Balkans.”68 Germany employed a “calculated risk” strategy in order to pursue its goal.69 As a first step, “the Austrian government will demand the most farreaching satisfaction for Serbia and will, as soon as this is not given, move its troops into Serbia.”70 As the Balkan war proceeded, Germany would deter a Russian military intervention by threatening a European war. In the event that Germany had successfully coerced Russia to acquiesce to the destruction of Serbia, its declining military position could have been sufficiently reinforced. First, the destruction of Serbia would weaken the Pan-Slavic irredentist forces within the Austro-Hungarian Empire – especially in BosniaHerzegovina – thereby slowing its disintegration process.71 Second, the elimination of the Serbian military threat would free Austrian forces earmarked for the Balkan front and enable the Austrian army to launch a more powerful offensive against Russia. The Russian army would then be forced to deploy more troops along the Galician front. Consequently, the German Eighth Army would face a weaker and delayed Russian offensive in East Prussia and would thus be more likely to hold the eastern front until reinforcements came from the west. Third, German leaders calculated that, “If the [European] war does not come, if the Czar does not want it, or France, thoroughly bewildered, counsels peace, then we still have prospects of breaking up the Entente through this action.”72 In this event, Germany would have a free hand on both the eastern and the western fronts and increase its military capability vis-à-vis each opponent. Although a proxy war was involved, the calculated risk strategy was diplomatic rather than military in nature. Germany did not intend to use its own military force. Berlin only wanted to extort concessions from St. Petersburg through coercive threats without a direct military conflict. In this respect, the German diplomatic strategy falls into the category of offensive coercive diplomacy or a “blackmail strategy.”73 Moreover, the proxy war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia was merely a fait accompli tactic of diplomacy. By employing a fait accompli tactic, the coercer seizes its demands unilaterally in the hope that the target state concedes afterward. This tactic of incorporating a limited use of force is not an essential element of a blackmail strategy; however, it is often employed by coercers in order to force acquiescence. In fact, Berlin had employed the calculated risk strategy without instigating a proxy war in previous crises. Germany wanted to localize the conflict and avoid a great-power war if possible.74 On 21 July, Bethmann wrote to the German ambassadors in St. Petersburg, Paris, and London: “We urgently desire a localization of conflict; any intervention by another power will, in view of the divergent alliance commitments, lead to incalculable consequences.”75 In the words of Kurt Riezler, Bethmann’s confidant and personal secretary, Berlin planned a “rapid accompli and

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afterwards friendlessness toward the Entente” and hoped that “then the shock will be weathered.”76 He then added: “Under all circumstances, we want the conflict to be localized.” German leaders anticipated that the Entente Powers would recognize their inferior military capability and acquiesce to the fait accompli. Consequently, the Austro-Serbian conflict would not escalate into a continental or world war. Jagow told Karl Max Lichnowsky, the ambassador in London, on July 18: We must attempt to localize the conflict between Austria and Serbia. Whether this is possible will depend in the first place on Russia and in the second place on the moderating influence of the other members of the Entente. The more boldness Austria displays the more strongly we support her, the more likely is Russia to keep quiet. There is certain to be some blustering in St. Petersburg, but at bottom Russia is not now ready to strike. Nor will France and England be anxious for war at the present time.77 The Kaiser likewise thought that a Russian intervention was improbable “because Russia is, at present moment, militarily and financially totally unprepared for war.”78 Similarly, Bethmann argued that “We have grounds to assume and cannot but wish, that France, at the moment burdened with all sorts of cares, will do everything to restrain Russia from intervention.”79 Although Russia warned against an Austrian use of force, Berlin’s optimism for localization hardly subsided. The Baden Charge d’Affaires at Berlin reported on 20 July that “In circles here, even at the Foreign Ministry, the opinion prevails that Russia is bluffing and that, if only for reasons of domestic policy, she will think well before provoking a European war.”80 As such, the Germans expected that Russia make concessions once again facing the risk of war with Germany, just as it had repeatedly done in the previous crises of 1908–09, 1912, 1913, and early 1914. Despite such optimistic predictions, German leaders clearly understood that their diplomatic scheme might fail and consequently lead to a great-power war. As early as 6 July, Bethmann warned that “an action against Serbia can lead to world war.”81 As Riezler put it, “for him this action is a leap into the dark and, as such, the most serious duty.”82 Jagow also acknowledged on 20 July that “a general European war was by no means out of the question.”83 Riezler feared that an inadvertent escalation might occur, in case “France and England will commit their support to Russia in order not to alienate it, perhaps without really believing that for us mobilization means war, thinking of it as a bluff which they answer with a counterbluff.”84 The Germans were willing to accept the significant risks of a major war because they feared the consequences of power decline and were confident on their chance of victory in the case of war. Jagow thus remarked: “I do not desire a preventive war, but if war is offered, we must not pull in our tails.”85 Most German leaders seem to have shared his view in July 1914.

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Russia’s firm stance Germany throughout the July crisis made repeated attempts to insure that Austria-Hungary acted according to the German plan. For example, right before the expiration of Austrian ultimatum to Serbia, Jagow reportedly told the Austrian ambassador in Berlin: [The German government] takes it for granted that upon eventual negative reply from Serbia, our declaration of war will follow immediately, joined to military operations. Any delay in beginning warlike preparations is regarded here as a great danger in respect of intervention of other powers. We are urgently advised to go ahead and confront the world with a fait accompli.86 According to the German script, Austria-Hungary handed over an ultimatum to Serbia on 23 July and notified France, Russia, and Britain the next day. The ultimatum intentionally included demands that were so exacting that the Serbian government could not accept it in its entirety. In British Foreign Secretary Edward Grey’s words, the ultimatum was “the most formidable document I have ever seen addressed by one state to another that was independent.”87 When Serbia failed to accept all the demands, Vienna broke off diplomatic relations on 25 July. Austria-Hungary then declared war on Serbia and bombarded Belgrade on 28 July. In the meantime, Germany made great efforts to localize the conflict and sabotaged any attempts at mediation. Bethmann rebuffed the British proposal for a conference and the Tsar’s proposal for the arbitration of the Hague Tribunal. When the Kaiser recommended Austria-Hungary to accept the Serbian offers and occupy Belgrade temporarily as a guarantee – the famous “Halt in Belgrade” formula – the German Chancellor sabotaged the proposal by relaying it to Vienna after the declaration of war in an attenuated form.88 Bethmann also warned against armed intervention from Russia. On 29 July, he instructed his ambassador in St. Petersburg to warn the Russian government “that further continuance of mobilization measures by Russia would force us to mobilize, and that a European war could then scarcely be prevented.”89 The moment the harsh content of Austrian ultimatum to Serbia was revealed, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov recognized German complicity and intentions behind this aggressive move. He thus protested: there can be no justification for the posing of political demands which would be unacceptable to any state. The clear aim of this procedure – which is apparently supported by Germany – is the total annihilation of Serbia and the disturbances of the political equilibrium in the Balkans.90 Russian leadership informed the Central Powers of its firm resolve to defend Serbia. On 24 July, Sazonov warned the German ambassador that “Russia will go to war with Austria” if the latter attempted to “swallow” Serbia.91

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Nevertheless, Russia retained a strong desire for a diplomatic solution and thus advised the Serbian government to accept as many Austrian demands as possible insofar as the concessions did not violate its core sovereignty. The Russians went to great lengths to accommodate many of the more reasonable demands. Russia’s hope for a negotiated peace, however, was soon dashed in the face of the Central Powers’ intransigence. As the Serbian reply did not meet Austrian demands entirely, Vienna broke off diplomatic relations with Belgrade. Three days later, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, and Germany threatened war in case of Russian intervention. It now became clear that Germany had no inclination for a compromise. To Berlin’s surprise, St. Petersburg calmly accepted the seemingly unavoidable war rather than back down as it had done in the previous crises. On 28 July, Sazonov concluded that “as we cannot fulfill Germany’s desires, it remains only to speed up our armament and count on the true inevitability of war.”92 Shortly afterward, Russia issued the order for mobilization in the four military districts of Odessa, Kiev, Moscow, and Kazan. In the end, Germany and Russia failed to find mutually satisfactory terms of settlement in July 1914.93 The Russians rejected the Central Powers’ request, calculating that their military strength entitled them to a better bargain. In contrast to the Germans, Russian leaders believed that the Russian army was ready for war. In early 1914, War Minister V.A. Sukhomlinov and Chief of Staff Yakov Jhilinski believed that “Russia was perfectly prepared for a duel with Germany, not to speak of one with Austria.”94 In the Council of Ministers on 24 July 1914, Sukhomlinov and Naval Minister Ivan Grigorovich asserted that Russia had no military reason to back down, although victory was not guaranteed.95 Given such expressions of military confidence, Sazonov did not hesitate to stand firmly behind the Serbs even at the risk of war with the Central Powers.96 This was the first time Russia had taken a firm stance against a German threat since the war and revolution of 1904–05.97 Crucially, Russia’s military confidence was an unintended consequence of the German maneuver strategy. This optimism originated in large part from Russia’s knowledge of the German war plan. As early as 1910, Russian military leaders knew that Germany planned to deploy most of its forces against France and leave only minimal troops in East Prussia in the early weeks of a European war.98 Consequently, the Russian military calculated that it was possible to achieve marked military superiority in initial battles even before the completion of mobilization. Moreover, military planners now expected to defeat the Germany army quickly by employing a counter-maneuver strategy. As early as 13 days after mobilization, Russia would invade East Prussia with two armies: the First Army was to advance to the north of the Masurian Lakes “with the object of drawing upon itself the greatest possible enemy strength,” while the Second Army would come around the Lakes from the south and attack the German forces from the rear.99 If all went as planned, the German Eighth Army

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would be entrapped and annihilated east of the Vistula River and Russian forces would then march through the undefended German territory all the way to Berlin, only 150 miles away.100 As such, discovering the character of the Germany strategy, Russia came to devise a counter-maneuver strategy and feel confident about its military prospects. If Germany had adopted the elder Moltke’s attrition strategy, Russia could not have achieved military superiority in East Prussia even after the completion of mobilization. An early German offensive would also have inflicted unrecoverable damage on the concentrating Russian army. In consequence, the Russians would have lacked military confidence to resist German diplomatic pressure. Russia could consciously take the risk of war with Germany also because it anticipated French support.101 Russia would only have an opportunity to carry out a counter-maneuver strategy if France came to Russia’s aid thereby forcing the German army to concentrate in the west. Russia’s anticipation of French support in the event of war held firm throughout the July crisis. President Raymond Poincaré reportedly promised France’s full support during his state visit to Russia between 20 and 23 July 1914.102 Prime Minister René Viviani also telegraphed his words of support to Sazonov on 27 July: France, appreciating, no less than Russia, the high importance for both countries of affirming their perfect mutual understanding in regard to the other powers and to the need for neglecting no effort in view of a solution of the conflict, is ready in the interests of the general peace wholeheartedly to second the action of the Imperial Government.103 Maurice Paléologue, the French ambassador in St. Petersburg, also repeatedly assured Sazonov that Russia could count on the “complete readiness of France to fulfill her obligations as an ally in case of necessity.”104 Paléologue was a confidant to Poincaré and enjoyed the full confidence of Sazonov and the Tsar. As a result, his assurances created an aura of official policy and led the Russian government to thank French leaders for “the declaration, which the French ambassador made to me in his government’s name that we may count completely on the allied support of France.”105 French leaders could issue such risky pledges because of their confidence in their own military capability. During the Balkan crisis of 1912, Joseph Joffre, the chief of the French general staff, argued that “The Triple Entente would have the greatest chances of success and the prospect of a victory permitting it to redraw the map of Europe, despite the local successes which Austria might have obtained in the Balkans.”106 An episode recorded in Joffre’s memoirs also reveals French military confidence and its impact on policy-making during the July crisis. As Joffre recalled, War Minister Adolphe Messimy on 24 July informed him of the German intention for a local war and “the possibility of having to go to war” on the Russian ally’s behalf. The chief of the French general staff recollected what then happened as follows:

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The Schlieffen Plan and World War I The long habit of constantly thinking of what must be done in case war broke out caused me to regard this redoubtable eventuality without any surprise, so I very quietly answered: “Well, Monsieur le Ministre, if we have to make war, we will do so.” It may be that my attitude brought some comfort to M. Messimy, for he came over to me, pressed my hand with some emotion, crying out “Bravo!” We then set to work in the calmest fashion imaginable to examine the first measures which must be taken if the menace of war became more certain.107

A few days later, the Russian embassy in Paris reported that “the mood of military circles and the High Command is very elated” and that there was even “unconcealed joy at exploiting the . . . favorable strategic situation.”108 Such confidence was not merely confined to military leadership, given that Joffre had repeatedly assured civilians that his new offensive strategy – Plan XVII – would bring France a quick and decisive victory.109 French military confidence was another consequence of Germany’s maneuver strategy. The French army had an attrition strategy – Plan XVII. This war plan assumed that Germany’s main forces would concentrate in Lorraine and envisioned a headlong offensive against the German mass. A French general order stated: “Whatever the circumstances, it is the Commander-in-Chief’s intention to advance with all forces united to attack the German armies.”110 Had Germany adopted an attrition strategy and thus pitted its strength against French strength, France would have expected a costly stalemate along the Lorraine frontier at best, given its material inferiority. Instead, the Germans employed a maneuver strategy, the deceptive nature of which misled France to underestimate its opponent’s military capability. The French general staff mistakenly believed that the German-flanking maneuver through Belgium would be only of secondary magnitude and stay below the Meuse River.111 Consequently, France failed to foresee that its Plan XVII would allow the German right wing to envelop the entire French army. This ignorance of German strategic intention led France to overlook an important strategic risk and put unwarranted confidence in its plan. Moreover, what the French knew about the German strategy further reinforced their false military optimism. The French calculated that Germany’s efforts at maneuver in Belgium would allow them to achieve marked numerical superiority in the critical battle of Lorraine and that Plan XVII thus could bring about a swift victory.112 Joffre anticipated that this maneuver through Belgium would force the German general staff to weaken what he believed was its main force in Lorraine.113 He intended to fully exploit this alleged critical strategic blunder and win a decisive battle. While the German right wing was advancing though Belgium, the French army “with all forces united” would smash through the Metz–Thionville line and destroy the German left wing.114 Consequently, the French would be able to isolate German right wing in Belgium.115 The French Fifth Army and the BEF would be able to check the German maneuver forces advancing below the Meuse until victory was achieved in Lorraine. Since the main German forces in fact were to advance through Belgium, France had no

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chance to achieve its strategic aim of winning a decisive battle in Lorraine. As such, French military optimism resulted in part from the German maneuver strategy, which misled France to underestimate German capability and perceive a false strategic opportunity.116

Opportunity for war The Schlieffen Plan’s emphasis on maneuver convinced German leaders, both military and civilian, that they would be able to win a quick and decisive victory in the event of war. Put somewhat differently, it heightened German estimates of their opportunity for war. As diplomacy failed, Germany was left with two options. First, Germany could make a compromise on Russian terms and wait for another political opportunity to arise in the near future. Berlin would need to accept whatever consequences power shifts would bring about in the meantime. Second, Germany could fight a war in order to stop its power decline. In late July 1914, Germany “consciously brought the war as a preventive war.”117 The Germans chose this risky path since they had strong military confidence, which in turn originated largely from their maneuver strategy: the Schlieffen Plan. German attempts to extort concessions turned out to be a failure when Russia ordered a partial mobilization on 28 July to protect Serbia. This unexpected diplomatic setback caused a short-lived controversy among the German elite over its next move. Bethmann was in favor of accepting Russian terms of settlement thereby avoiding a European war. For him, the German threat of continental war was a bluff designed to serve diplomacy. Now that the bluff was called, Germany needed to back down and avoid a world war. The German chancellor thus began to pressure Austria-Hungary for a negotiated peace with Serbia.118 On the night of 29–30 July, Bethmann sent Vienna a series of telegrams to urge the acceptance of the “Halt in Belgrade” formula. At 12:30 A.M., 30 July, he telegraphed: “we must urgently request, in order to prevent a general catastrophe, or at least to put Russia in the wrong, that Vienna inaugurate and continue with conversations.”119 A message of 3:00 A.M. even contained an implicit threat of abandonment: The refusal of every exchange of views with St. Petersburg would be a serious mistake, for it provokes Russia precisely to armed interference, which Austria is primarily interested in avoiding. We are ready, to be sure, to fulfill our obligations as an ally, but must refuse to allow ourselves to be drawn by Vienna into a world conflagration frivolously and in disregard of our advice.120 On the other hand, military leaders accepted a seemingly inevitable war and pushed for preparatory measures. According to one report, Moltke used “all his influence that the singularly favourable situation be exploited for military

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action.”121 He justified his position on the ground that “France finds herself in nothing less than military difficulties [and] that Russia feels everything but secure.” The chief of the general staff believed that “we shall never hit it again so well as we do now with France’s and Russia’s expansion of their armies incomplete.”122 War Minister Erich von Falkenhayn was also reported to “urgently desire to take the military steps called for by the strained diplomatic situation and the constantly threatening danger of war.”123 As new information arrived about Russian military preparations, the generals stepped up pressure for the declaration of a “threatening danger of war,” the highest-level peacetime alert. Moltke went so far as to secretly demand the Austrian general staff to order general mobilization immediately and to “refuse renewed English efforts to maintain peace.”124 Such lack of consensus in Berlin caused great confusion in Vienna and led Berchtold to wonder: “Who rules in Berlin – Moltke or Bethmann?”125 This controversy was, however, soon resolved and there emerged a consensus for war. In an evening meeting on 30 July, Moltke and Falkenhayn convinced Bethmann that Germany should not shy away from a great-power war. Bethmann was persuaded for three reasons. First, he recognized that a compromise would not sufficiently compensate Germany for its loss of military capability and would merely postpone the resolution of Germany’s strategic problem. Second, war now appeared inevitable and imminent as Berlin received new information on an impending Russian general mobilization. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the generals assured him that Germany would win a quick and decisive victory. Had Moltke and Falkenhayn failed to convince them of a bright military prospect, the Chancellor might have vetoed general mobilization and forced Austria-Hungary to back down. Bethmann later acknowledged that these considerations indeed shaped his decision for war. In February 1918, for example, he admitted: in a certain sense it was a preventive war. But when war was hanging above us, when it had to come in two years even more dangerously and more inescapably, and when the generals said, now it is still possible, without defeat, but not in two years time. Yes, the generals.126 After changing his mind, Bethmann suspended further efforts for a negotiated peace and geared German diplomacy to blame Russia for the coming war. Shifting blame for the war was deemed important because the social democrats would support war efforts only if Germany appeared to be a victim. German leaders also calculated that if Russia appeared to be an aggressor, public opinion might prevent or delay British military intervention. At noon on 31 July, Berlin was informed that the Russians had ordered general mobilization and thus put themselves in the wrong in the German public’s eyes. Berlin then sent an ultimatum to St. Petersburg and took premobilization military measures. On the expiration of the ultimatum next day, Germany declared war on Russia and ordered full mobilization.

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German leaders were highly confident in their military capabilities. On 31 July, Hugo Lerchenfeld, the Bavarian envoy in Berlin, noted: In military circles here they are feeling very confident. Months ago the Chief of the General Staff, Herr von Moltke, had already expressed the opinion that the point in time was militarily as favorable as it would not be again in the foreseeable future. . . . [The German General Staff] looked forward to war against France with great confidence [and] reckoned that it would be able to defeat France in four weeks.127 Moltke later recalled that when war was declared on 1 August, “there was . . . an atmosphere of happiness” in the German leadership.128 When the Kaiser asked Falkenhayn if the army was ready for war on 5 July, the war minister “briefly confirmed this was the case without any reservations, and only asked whether any preparations were to be made.”129 Similarly, three months before the war Waldersee believed that “the prospects for coming through a great European war quickly and victoriously are today still very favorable for Germany and also for the Triple Alliance. Soon this will no longer be the case.”130 The AustroHungarian Naval Attaché in Berlin noted on 27 July: “people here await all possible complications with the utmost calm and regard the moment as very favorable for a big settlement.”131 Such confidence was not limited to military circles. On 8 July, Bethmann calculated that if the war “comes from the east” and Austria-Hungary thus fights on the German side, “then we shall have prospects for winning it.”132 Similarly, Jagow and other diplomats expected a favorable chance of victory for Germany.133 German military confidence resulted in large part from its maneuver strategy. According to Fritz Fischer, “the German General Staff, indeed the whole German officer corps (with negligible exceptions) regarded this plan as the infallible recipe for victory.”134 In January 1913, Moltke concluded that if Germany abandoned its flanking maneuver through Belgium, “we would burden ourselves with the difficulty of a frontal attack on the French eastern front . . . At the same time we would abandon our only chance of the quick and resounding success we need so badly.”135 Schlieffen shared this judgment when he wrote in 1900: the results of such an attack [on the enemy front] can only be meager, even in the most favorable case. . . . The campaign drags on. . . . To win a decisive, destructive success, it is necessary to make a simultaneous attack on two or three points at once – that is, on the front and against one or both flanks.136 These memoranda clearly show that the German army regarded a maneuver strategy to be a precondition for a quick and decisive victory. The maneuver strategy’s impact on military confidence comes through clearly when one compares German estimates on the probable course of war before and after the adoption of the Schlieffen Plan. After the end of the

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Franco-Prussian War, the elder Moltke had adopted an attrition strategy that envisioned a defensive war in the west and a limited offensive in the east and had anticipated a long indecisive war lasting between seven and thirty years.137 Schlieffen agreed that if the “defensive-offensive strategy” of attrition was adopted, the “German forces will have to shuttle between fronts, pushing back the enemy here and there . . . [while] the war drags on with growing disadvantages and debilitation of forces.”138 In contrast, he expected his maneuver strategy to deliver a quick decision in weeks. Similarly, Bethmann agreed that the maneuver strategy was a precondition for victory as he remarked: offense in the East and defense in the West [i.e., the elder Moltke’s attrition strategy] would have implied the admission that we expected at best a draw. . . . With such a slogan no army and no nation could be led into a struggle for their existence.139

Competing theories Offense–defense theory Although Stephen Van Evera claims that his theory offers the best explanation for the outbreak of World War I, he seems to be overconfident in his chosen methods for evaluating the theory.140 His case study has two major limitations, which suffice to justify a more rigorous examination of the evidence. First of all, Van Evera employs the method of congruence procedure, which on its own is too weak a test method to support his strong claims. This method lacks control for confounding factors and is thus vulnerable to spurious correlations. Therefore, it cannot produce strong test results especially in a “twocornered fight” between a single theory and evidence. Van Evera believes that this problem is insignificant because no other theory makes correct predictions for 11 out of the 12 war-promoting conditions he identified. This claim is unwarranted for two reasons. One is that only a few of the dozen conditions contributed significantly to the outbreak of war in 1914 as will be shown below. Therefore, his claim that offense–defense theory can explain so many phenomena is unimpressive even if it were true. Some theories, including mine, refuse to make such wide-ranging predictions on purpose, because they aim instead to explain a few critical phenomena well and uphold the principle of parsimony. Another reason is that Van Evera collects supporting evidence over the period 1890–1914 in seven countries. A plethora of events occurred within this long time frame and across the wide geographic area. Many of them had no direct relevance to the outbreak of war in 1914. Therefore, it is not surprising that he could find some seemingly consistent evidence for most of his predictions. For these reasons, Van Evera’s use of congruence procedure merely provides weak evidence in support of his theory. Second, the “cult of the offensive” is poorly defined, and Van Evera often confuses the generic faith in offense with military confidence concerning a

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specific campaign. The abstract faith in offense is analytically distinct from belief in winning a specific war. The former can be only one of many possible causes of the latter. Therefore, the fact that most German leaders believed in victory in 1914 does not automatically corroborate offense–defense theory. The theory is borne out only if the generic faith in offense is shown to have been among the key reasons for German leaders’ specific belief in victory over Russia and France in 1914. In short, the key issue is what induced German leaders to have confidence in victory and opt for war in 1914. The murkiness of Van Evera’s “cult” requires a rule of thumb for distinguishing the abstract faith from specific judgments. The “cult of the offensive” takes many different meanings including “the offense has the advantage in warfare,” “conquest is fairly easy,” and “war is short and decisive,” to name a few.141 If one policy-maker makes these arguments based on concrete material and strategic factors concerning a specific theater of operation, quotations from them must count as evidence of military confidence in a specific campaign. In case another leader makes the same claims without considering campaignspecific conditions, the quotations should be regarded as evidence of the cult’s existence. In practice, it is difficult to discern whether the speaker was referring to concrete conditions or general principles. Van Evera himself found this to be a difficult task. This is one reason why many scholars believe that offense– defense theory – especially the perceptual variant – is not susceptible to falsification. Offense–defense theorists’ historical accounts for the outbreak of World War I can be boiled down to the following explanations: •

•

•

Preventive motive. Germany had a strong motive for preventive war since the “cult of the offensive” misled German leaders to exaggerate their future military vulnerability. Had they recognized the objective defensive advantage, there would have existed a weaker preventive motive. Opportunity for diplomacy. Germany failed to attain a satisfactory diplomatic settlement because, perceiving offense-dominance, Russia and France had false military optimism and rejected the German request for compensation. The “cult of the offensive” also reinforced the incentive for moving first thereby reducing the amount of time available for diplomacy. Moreover, Germany and its adversaries became fearful of being cheated and thus reluctant to commit to an agreement. Opportunity for war. Germany had strong confidence in military victory in an early war since faith in the offense induced German leaders to anticipate the success of their offensive strategy.

Offense–defense theory fails to explain German leaders’ strong motive for preventive action. Preventive motive does not co-vary with the perceived offense–defense balance, as shown below. Neither is there direct evidence that the “cult of the offensive” created the Germans’ strong motive for preventive war. Although Van Evera’s book quotes three German leaders as evidence for

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the causal relationship, none of them refer to offensive advantage as a reason for their long-term security concerns.142 Offense–defense theorists argue that Germany’s strong preventive motive had no sound strategic basis. The pervasive idea of preventive war originated not from reasonable security concerns but from ideational and domestic pathologies that distinguished Imperial Germany from other nations. Van Evera argues that the “cult of the offensive” was strongest in Germany. Accordingly, the Germans exaggerated the strategic consequences of power decline and showed an unusually strong motive for preventive war. In contrast, since faith in offensive advantage was weakest in Britain, “there was little expressed fear of relative decline and no serious talk of preventive war, even though Britain was in fact suffering a long-term relative decline in economic and military strength against Germany.”143 Jack Snyder goes one step further and argues that the strategic myth of offensive advantage originated from the characteristics of German society. In his view, the Germans had particularly strong belief in offensive advantage because politicians failed to control the military and its organizational bias for offense.144 The cartelized political system and logrolling dynamics also contributed to the creation and spread of the myth in Imperial Germany.145 Contrary to these claims, there is ample evidence that German preventive motive was indeed based on reasonable strategic assessments rather than on the “cult of the offensive.” First of all, foreign observers, who were free from German pathologies, admitted that Germany faced serious strategic challenges and had understandable reasons to consider preventive war.146 George Buchanan, the British ambassador in St. Petersburg, wondered in March 1914: “Can Germany still afford to wait till Russia becomes the dominant factor in Europe or will she strike while victory is still within her grasp?”147 After surveying the Russian armament program, General Henry Wilson, director of military operations in the British army, commented that “it’s easy to understand now why Germany is anxious about the future and why she may think that it is a case of now or never.”148 In May 1914, Chief of the Italian General Staff Alberto Pollio, examining the Triple Alliance’s strategic position, asked the German military attaché: “Shall we wait until our enemies are prepared? . . . Why do we not start this inevitable war now?”149 Had the myth of offense-dominance mostly bred Germany’s fear of future insecurity, these foreign officials should have found its security concerns less compelling given that they were less exposed to the myth. Also, the fear of future vulnerability was observed across a wide range of the political spectrum in Germany. Bethmann explained to Lichnowsky on 8 July 1914 that “not only the extremists, but even level-headed politicians are worried at the increases in Russian strength, and the imminence of Russian attack.”150 The army bill of 1913 illustrates these widespread security concerns well. German domestic politics suffered “an almost total impasse” at the time.151 The growth of the left and political polarization rendered compromises on any important issue highly difficult. Nonetheless, the military bill received approval from an overwhelming majority including the parties of the center and the left in

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the Reichstag. If the cult of the offensive had been the main source of preventive motive, the fear of insecurity and support for expensive arms buildup would not have been as strong beyond the relatively small number of political groups that belonged to the ruling cartel or the cult. Offense–defense theory also fails to adequately explain the failure of diplomacy in 1914. First of all, perception of offensive advantage cannot provide an adequate explanation for Russia and France’s military confidence. Russian generals anticipated that the German Eighth Army would exploit slow Russian mobilization and launch a quick offensive along with the Austro-Hungarian armies at the opening of hostilities. Had the “cult of the offensive” dominated military planning, Russia should instead have been rather pessimistic about the early course of war and accommodative accordingly. Neither can French military confidence be attributed to the misperception of the offense–defense balance. French planners were clearly aware of several defense-enhancing factors. In February 1912, Chief of the General Staff Joffre, the alleged leader of the French “cult,” informed high-level generals and civilians that rough terrain and fortresses rendered the Alsace-Lorraine frontier unsuitable for a French offensive.152 He then proposed the same strategic solution as the Germans envisioned: a flanking maneuver through the Belgian Ardennes.153 Only President Poincaré’s adamant objection managed to dissuade Joffre and other leaders from adopting their preferred strategy.154 There is also no direct evidence that Russia and France had confidence in victory due to their belief in offensive advantage. Van Evera’s book presents no citations that specifically link the allies’ confidence to a belief in offensive advantage.155 He merely asserts that the faith in offense was a hidden assumption behind the two states’ fear and confidence. The empirical evidence also refutes the popular claim that a first-mover advantage and the resultant inadvertent escalation bore direct responsibility for the outbreak of World War I. The “inadvertent war” thesis has three main propositions. First, the crisis participants could have found some bargains that were satisfactory to all and therefore preferable to war. In other words, all the great powers had compatible terms of settlement. Second, the negotiated settlement could not be achieved largely because “authorities in all of the countries felt pressed to take military measures that cut short the process of diplomacy.”156 Had more time been available, the opposing camps could have found a mutually satisfactory bargain and reached a peaceful settlement. Third, it was the combination of offensive strategies that reinforced the incentive to mobilize and strike first and thus deprived politicians of valuable negotiating time. As Scott Sagan put it, “the rapidity and inflexibility of offensive war plans limited the time available to diplomats searching for an acceptable political solution to the crisis.”157 Inadvertent escalation did not significantly contribute to the outbreak of war, however. The opposing sides had irreconcilable terms of settlement. On the one hand, the Central Powers wanted a localized war. Although Bethmann became inclined to accept the “Halt in Belgrade” formula on 29–30 July, he faced strong opposition and failed to make it an official position. The short-lived controversy

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surrounding this formula led to brief confusion and paralysis rather than official policy shifts in Berlin and Vienna. The German chancellor was eventually persuaded that this compromise alone was insufficient to mitigate the Central Powers’ decline and solve their strategic problems. Therefore, the Central Powers had only one official negotiating position throughout the crisis: a localized war. On the other hand, Russia had no intention to allow a localized war and the ensuing destruction of Serbia at Austria’s hands. St. Petersburg intended to resist Vienna’s use of force against Belgrade in any case. Moreover, additional time would not have improved the chance of diplomatic solution, since the Germans and Russians in fact had enough time to figure out the opponent’s terms of settlement. Germany came to expect that Russia stand by Serbia as the crisis evolved. On 29–30 July, Sazonov stated Russia’s minimum terms of settlement to the German ambassador: “If Austria . . . declares herself ready to eliminate from her ultimatum points which violate the sovereign rights of Serbia, Russia engages to stop her military preparations.”158 Otherwise, Russia could not but fight to prevent Austria-Hungary from turning Serbia into a vassal state thereby dominating the Balkans. The subsequent order of partial mobilization eliminated any remaining doubts on Russia’s resolve. Upon receiving the news about the Russian move, Bethmann lost his hope for a localized war and pressured Vienna to renew negotiation with Belgrade.159 The partial mobilization also convinced Moltke and his colleagues that Russia would not accept a localized war. Whereas the generals had acquiesced to the calculated risk strategy, they now began openly to make the case for preventive war. For its part, Russia realized that Germany had no inclination to accept its terms, as its concessions and warnings failed to create visible shifts in Berlin and Vienna’s attitudes. When Sazonov saw the Tsar on 30 July, the foreign minister argued: It was clear to everybody that Germany had decided to bring about a collision, as otherwise she would not have rejected all the pacificatory proposals that had been made and could easily have brought her ally to reason. . . . Therefore it was necessary to put away any fears that our warlike preparations would bring about a war and to continue these preparations carefully, rather than by reason of such fears to be taken unawares by war.160 Thus, Russia correctly understood that they had no common ground with Germany, and diplomacy already had little prospect for success when they issued the fateful order of general mobilization. As such, lack of time was not an obstacle to negotiated resolution of the July crisis. Neither did the incentive to move first make war more likely. Although the Russians perceived a first-mover advantage, they attempted to exploit this military opportunity only after the incompatibility of political goals had eliminated any hope for a diplomatic solution. Only when “the failure of all his efforts to reach an understanding with the Austrian diplomats over the fate of Serbia” was

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obvious, did Sazonov allow the desire for preemption to guide the course of events.161 Sazonov and A.V. Krivoshein, the influential minister of agriculture, on 30 July acknowledged “the necessity for insisting upon a general mobilization at the earliest possible moment, in view of the inevitability of war with Germany, which every moment became clearer.”162 Shortly afterward, the Tsar Nicholas II reluctantly agreed that “it would be very dangerous not to make timely preparations for what was apparently an inevitable war, and therefore gave his decision in favour of an immediate general mobilization.”163 Russia had no intentions of abandoning diplomacy and fighting war for the benefit of moving first, but it wanted to be the first to mobilize if it had to fight. Had the military imperative triumphed over political logic as offense–defense theorists argue, Russia would not have ordered the technically burdensome partial mobilization thereby alarming the Central Powers prematurely. In fact, St. Petersburg sacrificed the military advantages of efficiency and surprise in pursuit of a peaceful diplomatic solution. The Germans acted similarly on the eve of war for different reasons. Though the Schlieffen Plan placed a great premium on moving first, Germany deliberately abdicated the initiative so that Russia appeared to be the aggressor in the eyes of German and British public. Although Germany responded quickly to the Russian mobilization, its rapid reaction came only after the final decision had been made to reject Russia’s demands and fight war. Therefore, Berlin’s quick response did not cause the failure of diplomacy, let alone war. There is also little evidence that Germany and its rivals’ mutual mistrust precluded a negotiated settlement. Van Evera himself admits: Offense-defense theory predicts that agreement should often be broken, seldom trusted, and hard to reach during the run-up to 1914. There predictions fail . . .. There is no clear basis for saying that diplomacy deteriorated as the cult intensified after 1980, or that agreements were few circa 1914 . . . the predicted decline in the quantity of successful diplomacy, and in the general climate of diplomacy, do not appear in the diplomatic record of 1890–1914.164 Finally, offense–defense theory cannot offer a plausible account for German perception of military opportunity. Strong faith in the Schlieffen Plan was not based upon any perceived offensive advantage. German generals may have endorsed the abstract principle that “attack is the best defense,” as Stephen Van Evera argues.165 Nevertheless, they clearly recognized both old and new disadvantages for the attacker at the practical level of operational planning. General Schlieffen, the author of the strategy, himself admitted: “a war of aggression calls for much strength and also consumes much . . . this strength dwindles constantly as the defender’s increases, and all this particularly in a country which bristles with fortresses.”166 Schlieffen also believed that the firepower of modern weapons had made successful frontal attacks highly unlikely and that the fortified French

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frontier was almost impregnable.167 He astutely foresaw that “The possibility of small numbers holding off a much greater enemy force from moderately strengthened field positions will result in more instances of trench warfare.”168 And he concluded that “an attack exclusively on the fortress line Verdun-Belfort does not seem to recommend itself.”169 As shown above, Moltke shared this view and so did most German officers. The German planners calculated that an offensive operation could succeed only if the attacker evaded the enemy defense through a flanking maneuver. Schlieffen believed “the principles of strategy remain unchanged. The enemy’s front is not the objective. The essential thing is to crush the enemy’s flanks . . . and complete the extermination by attack upon his rear.”170 Under his influence, the German doctrine placed great emphasis on a flanking maneuver throughout the pre-war period. The Schlieffen Plan embodied this consensus that only a maneuver strategy could bring about a quick and decisive victory under the defense-favoring environment. In a nutshell, the German general staff calculated that a successful offensive was possible, not because they misperceived an offensive advantage, but because they believed a flanking maneuver could help overcome significant defensive advantage.171 The fact that Moltke and his colleagues regarded maneuver as a precondition for victory reveals that their abstract faith in offense, if there were any, was not so powerful as offense– defense theorists believe it was. If such faith in offense had dominated operational planning, the German generals would have had no qualms about a frontal assault through the Lorraine frontier. The historical research finds no occasion where a military planner justified its confidence in the success of the Schlieffen Plan according to an abstract faith in offense. To support his case, Van Evera quotes Kaiser Wilhelm II telling German troops in early August: “You will be home before the leaves have fallen from the trees.”172 A German general is also quoted as saying that “In two weeks we shall defeat France, then we shall turn round, defeat Russia, and then we shall march to the Balkans and establish order there.” These remarks, however, should be regarded as testimonies of German confidence in military victory – or more specifically in the Schlieffen Plan – rather than as evidence of the perceived offensive advantage. Van Evera fails to show that such military confidence in fact reflects the generic faith in offense. Dynamic differentials theory Although Dale Copeland uses World War I as a testing ground for his theory, his case study is at best incomplete.173 His book devotes many pages to showing that World War I was a preventive war and that Germany had no inclination for a diplomatic settlement from the beginning. However, Copeland spends little time in measuring military balance – his main explanatory variable – and tracing its impact on policy-making. This pitfall alone suffices to warrant a new test for his theory. Copeland explains the outbreak of World War I in his book as follows:

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Preventive motive. Germany had strong motive for preventive war since the Germans foresaw Russia’s military preponderance and aggression in the near future. Opportunity for diplomacy. Germany made no sincere efforts toward a diplomatic settlement. The Germans were concerned that Russia might renege on an agreement and thus were not inclined to reach one. German leaders saw the sole utility of diplomacy in bringing about favorable circumstances for war. Opportunity for war. Germany had strong confidence in military victory because the Germans believed in their markedly superior military power compared with Russia.

Dynamic differentials theory fails to offer a convincing explanation for Germany’s strong motive for preventive war. This theory posits that only a state with marked military superiority initiates a major war in a multipolar system. Therefore, given European multipolarity, Germany had no good reason to fear its military decline unless Russia was expected to achieve such marked superiority. Copeland presents no conclusive evidence that Germany anticipated Russia’s military preponderance in the foreseeable future.174 Although the Great Program were certainly to provide even greater numerical advantages to the Russian army, the German army would still have proved to be more than a match in 1917 on a one-on-one basis. Qualitative superiority in technology, leadership, organization, and intelligence could have compensated for the numerical disadvantage to a large extent. There is also no evidence that German leaders calculated the balance of power largely in bilateral terms as the theory posits. Although it might be possible to offer a more cogent explanation based upon the coalitional rather than the bilateral military balance, dynamic differentials theory unfortunately pays exclusive attention to the bilateral balance and falls short. The theory also offers a flawed explanation for diplomatic failure. German statesmen made genuine efforts to reach a diplomatic settlement until the last days of the July crisis, as shown earlier. The evidence clearly shows that Germany wanted to localize the Austro-Serbian conflict and avoid a major war if possible. Although Berlin was willing to risk a great-power war for diplomatic gains, it never premeditated such a war from the outset and used the Sarajevo incident as mere pretext. Bethmann made diplomatic moves solely designed to shift the blame of war to Russia at the last minute, but only after a diplomatic stalemate had rendered war inevitable. Mistrust also posed no serious obstacle to diplomacy, as noted above. Military power, Copeland’s main explanatory variable, also cannot account for the primary immediate cause of diplomatic failure: the Russian and French military confidence. It is difficult to interpret Russia’s confidence in its military capability largely as an outcome of the power balance. There is no doubt that Russian optimism was related to the military buildup over the pre-war years. The rearmament programs since 1909 had remarkably improved the strength and

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readiness of the Russian army. As the result of improved diplomatic relations, military leadership no longer needed to prepare for another war with Japan and thus could deploy almost the entire army for a European contingency.175 As the double track of the Trans-Siberian Railway was completed in 1914, Russia could also transfer six Siberian divisions to the European theater more rapidly in the case of emergency.176 Such military improvements, however, could not instill enough confidence in Russian leaders in an armed contest with the Germans. Russian officers had a strong sense of inferiority especially in training, technology, and mobilization.177 On a one-on-one basis, they believed, Germany had significant military advantage. The overall power balance also could not give the Russians much confidence. In 1913, Russia was approximately equal to Germany in terms of GNP, and the Franco-Russian Alliance and the AustroGerman Alliance were also equally matched.178 Under such circumstances, dynamic differentials theory should predict that Russia must have anticipated a long and costly war. To the contrary, the Russians expected a short conflict.179 There is also little evidence that French military confidence originated from the power balance. Military power cannot provide a plausible explanation since the French knew that the German army was superior in both quality and quantity.180 In August 1914, France could deploy only 28 army corps, whereas Germany could field 39 corps including 13 reserve corps.181 In terms of active duty soldiers that the French regarded as most important, France had 736,000 against Germany’s 725,000 – hardly a reassuring advantage.182 The Senate debate on the eve of war also exposed the fact that France had inferior armaments to Germany.183 After all, the German army was believed to be “the most powerful in Europe, a vast war-machine of unconquerable strength” throughout Europe.184 The prospect of allied supports was also not an important source of French confidence.185 Although the prospect of British support may have provided a boost in French morale, the BEF did not count as an important factor in French military planning. Neither did French confidence depend on Russia’s military support to a large extent. The French general staff believed that a decisive battle would be fought in the west and that the main purpose of a Russian offensive was to divert a portion of German forces to the east. Dynamic differentials theory only finds mixed empirical support for explaining Germany’s confidence in victory. “Marked military superiority” could not be an important source of confidence because German estimates on the military balance were ambivalent at best in this regard. One can find some evidence that superior military power indeed contributed to German military confidence. On 31 July, the Prussian general staff reportedly pointed to “poor spirit in the French army, few howitzers and poor quality guns” and expressed “great confidence.”186 However, other evidence shows that German leaders saw no such marked superiority. For example, when Hötzendorf asked for German reinforcements to East Prussia on 12 May 1914, Moltke lukewarmly replied “I will do what I can. We are not superior to the French.”187 Neither did military optimism come from the miscalculation of the coalitional power balance and the diplomatic situation. On 2 August, Lerchenfeld recorded “One can say today that

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Germany and Austria will be opposed by the whole world in the impending war. Nonetheless, the mood in the military circle here is only of complete confidence.”188 By this time, Berlin clearly had realized that Britain would fight on the side of France and Russia and that Italy would likely remain neutral. Nevertheless, these diplomatic setbacks did not shatter German military confidence. Power transition theory Power transition scholars posit that World War I including the Russo-German conflict originated from a German challenge to British supremacy.189 According to their view, Imperial Germany was deeply dissatisfied with the Britishdominated international order that denied a position to which its increasing power entitled it. Therefore, Germany attempted to defeat Britain and overthrow the status quo in 1914, as they acquired a new power advantage and military confidence. Germany fought with Russia as well simply because the latter was a member of the dominant coalition led by Britain. The historical research confirms that the Germans were indeed disgruntled with their share of interests such as colonial possessions and regarded Britain as the most formidable obstacle to their overseas expansion. They also engaged in a fierce naval arms race with the British Empire during the 1890s and 1900s culminating in competitive construction of Dreadnought-class battleships and Invincible-class battle cruisers.190 There is also evidence that Germany overtook Britain in aggregate power prior to the war. While Germany’s GNP amounted to 81 percent of Britain’s in 1890, the former was approximately 19 percent larger than the latter in 1913 (see Table A.4). However, a substantial body of historical evidence contradicts the assertion that this intense rivalry between Berlin and London was the primary cause of World War I. As shown above, the Germans and the Austro-Hungarians initiated the war in 1914 mainly because they feared that the rise of Russian power might put them in an unfavorable strategic position. Germany ended up fighting with Britain simply due to the latter’s Entente commitments to France and Russia rather than initiating war deliberately in order to challenge British supremacy.191 Similarly, Germany fought with France because the latter was allied with Russia. In fact, the British–German rivalry was already on the wane before the war. Germany by later 1912 had scrapped the “Tirpitz Plan” of naval expansion and reached a tacit naval understanding with Britain.192 The German government also offered concessions regarding the Baghdad railway and ports on the Persian Gulf.193 Germany and Britain also negotiated on the Portuguese colonies and the Congo in Africa.194 Most importantly, German leaders went to great lengths to keep Britain out of the war in the summer of 1914, contrary to power transition scholars’ assertion that Britain was the main target. For example, Bethmann attempted to insure British neutrality up to the last hour even to the extent that his efforts threatened to cause complications in military operation.195 Also, Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz – the naval chief and a key architect of Weltpolitik – hardly desired a war with Britain, fearing that its superior

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navy would inflict a humiliating defeat to his fleet.196 These historical facts seriously undermine the explanation for World War I offered by power transition theory. The theory also fails to account for German military confidence. There is simply no evidence indicating that Germany anticipated victory because of its power advantage over Britain. On the contrary, the historical research shows that the distribution of aggregate power deeply troubled German leaders. They worried that the combined strength of the Central Powers did not match that of the Triple Entente.

Sources of military strategy This section evaluates explanations for determinants of strategy. I find substantial evidence for my military-leadership argument and the power-based argument but little support for the alternatives emphasizing offense–defense balance and political motive. It was good strategic intelligence and acumen that gave birth to the maneuver-centered Schlieffen Plan. The German general staff knew that the French army intended to concentrate along the German border, leaving the Belgian frontier feebly guarded. The Germans also astutely understood that they could exploit this vulnerable point in the French defense by launching a massive offensive through Belgium while luring the French army into its territory. Such clever maneuver would give them a chance to entrap and annihilate the enemy as Hannibal had done against the Romans at Cannae.197 The German command was able to hide this intent from its French counterpart. In the pre-war years, the French gathered some intelligence information insinuating a planned German attack through Belgium.198 However, they never fully appreciated the true scope of this clever scheme, miscalculating that any such thrust would be of a limited diversionary character.199 Alfred von Schlieffen, contrary to common misunderstanding, did anticipate operational difficulties especially in supplying troops advancing through Belgium.200 However, his skillful staff officers who had received rigorous education and training managed to find ways to overcome numerous technical obstacles, although their plan ultimately failed to produce victory in 1914 in important part due to poor implementation and bad luck. Perception of power balance also facilitated the making of the German maneuver strategy by reinforcing strategic incentives for its creation. As shown above, German planners calculated that it was unwise to fight an attrition war with a hostile coalition that was markedly superior in manpower and resource. Therefore, they made great efforts to create a workable maneuver strategy that could swiftly defeat their adversaries in succession. There is, in contrast, simply no evidence that an offensive advantage – whether real or perceived – induced Germany to adopt the maneuver strategy. It is impossible to claim that an objective offensive advantage produced the Schlieffen Plan. In the pre-war period, technology, geography, and force-to-space ratios all strongly favored the defender as offense–defense theorists admit.201 It

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is also noteworthy that the maneuver strategy depended on two allegedly defense-enhancing factors. The Germans utilized a buffer state to evade the fortified French border and used the firepower of heavy artillery extensively to reduce Belgian and French fortresses.202 Nor can the “cult of the offensive” explain the maneuver-oriented character of the Schlieffen Plan. Although they publicly endorsed “the principle that the offensive is the best defense,” German strategists did not fail to perceive a defensive advantage at the practical level of military planning. As already shown, Schlieffen and Moltke understood that technology, terrain, and force-to-space ratios made the French border fortifications almost impregnable. And this assessment induced the German army to turn around the French defense. Had the Germans blindly believed in offensedominance, they would not have hesitated to launch frontal attacks across the border with their superior force. Nor did Germany’s strong motive for preventive war inspire the Schlieffen Plan. In his path-breaking study of the German strategy, Gerhard Ritter attests that “the origin of the Schlieffen Plan cannot be found in political considerations, but exclusively in military-technical ones.”203 The maneuver strategy grew out of strategic studies and staff rides that dated back to the early 1890s. The Germans had weak if any motive for preventive war at that time when their relative power decline was just beginning. Moreover, Schlieffen – a “military technician” – is known to have refused to let any political motive guide his strategic planning.204

Responses to counterarguments This section defends my theory’s inferences against two potential criticisms. One counterclaim focuses on German military outlook; the other is directed at the timing of war. I find both criticisms either exaggerated or unsubstantiated. One may question the extent of German military confidence, pointing out occasions in which German leaders expressed fear of a long and costly war. For example, Moltke told the Kaiser in 1906: [A future military conflict] will be a national war which will not be settled by a decisive battle but by a long wearisome struggle with a country that will not be overcome until its whole national force is broken, and a war which will utterly exhaust our own people, even if we are victorious.205 Also, Moltke in 1911 dropped the plan for invasion of Holland on the grounds that the neutral country could serve as a valuable “windpipe” against British blockade, which would pose a serious threat only in a long war. Military and civilians leaders also held meetings to discuss preparatory measures for financial and economic wartime mobilizations, which a protracted war would require.206 Although this criticism indeed has a modicum of truth, one should not overstate the salience of these episodes. The above counterevidence, if significant, is not enough to deny the fact that military confidence pervaded within German

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leadership and mostly set the tone for German pre-war policies. Moltke’s 1906 comments cannot be powerful evidence against my argument that a maneuver strategy creates military confidence. Given that Moltke received the Schlieffen Plan in February the same year, he may not yet have accepted the new war plan wholeheartedly or even studied it carefully by the time he made these comments. In addition, the “windpipe” concept was merely one of several reasons for upholding Holland’s neutrality. Moltke also feared that the violation of neutrality would invite British amphibious operations in Holland, which would threaten the German right wing’s lines of communications. Finally, as Fritz Fischer put it, “what was characteristic of all these measures [for financial and economic preparations] was that they assumed a short war.”207 Consequently, the German government actually took no practical measures to prepare the German economy for a long war of attrition. Therefore, it seems reasonable to interpret the alleged evidence of military pessimism as prudent concerns about worst-case scenarios rather than as definite predictions on the likely character of future war.208 Another potential criticism focuses on the timing of war. Critics may ask why Germany waited for a decade to launch a preventive attack given that the Schlieffen Plan had been in place since 1906. My theory offers a simple answer. Germany did not initiate preventive war earlier largely because its maneuver strategy was expected to remain effective for the foreseeable future. As noted, a maneuver strategy is less dependent on material power. Therefore, power decline would reduce military capability only to a modest extent, insofar as the German strategy did not become obsolete. In the aftermath of the RussoJapanese War and the ensuing revolution, the Tsarist army lost its ability and resolve to mount a forceful offensive into East Prussia. In addition, the French did not yet pose a serious threat to the Lorraine front. Consequently, the Germans could rely on their maneuver strategy and feel secure until these favorable conditions began to disappear in the early 1910s.

Conclusion This case study strongly confirms my theory’s casual mechanisms and thus its validity. There are three sets of supporting evidence. First, the three warpromoting phenomena are observed, as my theory predicts, and their source can be traced back to the German maneuver strategy. German leaders feared losing the Schlieffen Plan and thus had a strong motive for preventive action in the runup to war. Germany first attempted to extort compensation from Russia thereby mitigating its power decline. However, Germany failed to gain satisfactory concessions through diplomacy because the Schlieffen Plan ironically imbued Russia and France with military optimism. As the Entente Powers rejected its demands, Germany went to war anticipating that its maneuver strategy would bring about a quick and decisive victory. Second, these three phenomena shaped critical aspects of German decisionmaking for war as my theory posits. The combination of a strong preventive

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motive, failed diplomacy, and military confidence sufficed to trigger preventive war. The other alleged causes of war such as a first-mover advantage and domestic pathologies played no significant role in decision-making for preventive war in July 1914. Third, military strategy had a greater causal effect on the intervening phenomena and the outbreak of war than the offense–defense and power balances did. The actual and perceived material balances fail to explain the emergence of the three war-promoting conditions as well as military strategy can. Comparing the two cases analyzed in this and the preceding chapters provides additional testimony for my theory’s validity. The previous chapter showed that Russia possessed an attrition strategy and consequently had no strong preventive motive and military confidence; the Russians could achieve compensation thereby avoiding a war. In stark contrast, Germany’s maneuver strategy resulted in the exactly opposite outcomes. I selected these cases of power shifts since their similarities in material balances allow us to control for the confounding factors (see Table 6.2). Therefore, I can conclude with reasonable confidence that the different military strategies caused the political discrepancies across the cases and that military strategy has a significant casual effect independent of the material factors.209

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Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War

Imperial Japan’s initiation of the Pacific War in 1941 poses tough challenges to my strategic theory. In light of overwhelming material advantages held by the United States, Japan’s decision for war seems to defy any rationality-based explanation. Also, most studies have applied the maneuver–attrition framework to analyzing predominantly continental wars; therefore, its usefulness in analysis of naval warfare is moot, and necessary conceptualization largely non-existent. In this chapter, I interrogate whether strategic theory can meet these challenges and account for the outbreak of the asymmetrical maritime conflict between the United States and Japan. In so doing, I intend to show that the maneuver/attrition distinction is equally valid in conceptualizing maritime strategy and extend the scope of my theory to this realm of warfare. To achieve this aim, I investigate how Japan’s maneuver strategy shaped its motive for preventive war, its military and diplomatic opportunities, and led to the war against the United States in the end. This chapter also evaluates empirical support for the alternative theories. The historical evidence supports strategic theory. Japanese leaders had a strong motive for preventive action and military confidence and failed to achieve a diplomatic success as my theory predicts. There is also strong evidence that Japan’s maneuver strategy amplified its preventive motive. Although no direct evidence is found to confirm the hypothesized effects of the strategy on diplomacy and military confidence, there exist clear correlations between the two that my theory envisages. Moreover, strategic theory of preventive war outperforms its contenders in explaining these phenomena. Offense–defense theory demonstrates only a mixed overall performance. On the one hand, this theory offers a satisfactory explanation for preventive motive. The research finds that many Japanese admirals assessed a present military opportunity and a future vulnerability as an offense–defense theorist would predict. On the other hand, this theory cannot explain why diplomacy was unsuccessful despite the fact that the vast Pacific Ocean created a defensedominant environment. In addition, defense-dominance fails to account for Japanese planners’ optimism concerning initial offensive operations. The research finds strong evidence to support dynamic differentials theory. This theory offers a good explanation for both Tokyo’s preventive motive and

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military opportunity. As Japan foresaw its imminent downfall to a subordinate and vulnerable position, it came to have strong motive for preventive action as the theory predicts. Moreover, as the diplomatic environment shifted toward bipolarity, a slight military advantage sufficed to inspire many naval officers with confidence. However, the theory exaggerates the adverse effect of mistrust on negotiations and thus fails to explain the failure of diplomacy adequately. Finally, power transition theory finds little empirical support. It simply cannot explain the fact that Japan felt confident enough to attack the preponderant United States. Given that Japan went through relative power declines in the run-up to war, the theory also has difficulty accounting for Japan’s motive for war. This chapter is organized into eight sections. I describe Japan’s maritime strategy and shifts in the balance of power in the first two sections. The following three sections show how the maneuver strategy contributed to a strong preventive motive, abortive diplomacy, military optimism, and ultimately the outbreak of war. The competing theories are evaluated in the sixth section. I then critique a popular account emphasizing the role of domestic politics and finally conclude.

Japanese maritime strategy Since the Pacific Ocean interposes between Japan and America, naval strategy was the primary element of both rivals’ war plans.1 Armies were deemed to play a secondary role at best in military conflict across the vast body of water. Therefore, I characterize Japan’s war plan in terms of its maritime strategy. It is important to note that Japan planned only a limited war with the United States.2 Japan’s weak aggregate power and the vast “moat” of the Pacific Ocean made the conquest of the US mainland out of the question. Therefore, Tokyo merely aimed to grab East Asia quickly and establish a dominant position in the region. Japan would then fend off American counter-offensives and force a fait accompli. Since Washington kept only a symbolic military presence in East Asia, the key to this plan’s success was to repel the forceful counterattacks of the US Pacific Fleet. For this purpose, the Japanese navy devised two types of strategy over time. One was attrition-oriented; the other maneuver-centered. Until 1940, Japan had an attrition strategy that envisioned a series of “interceptive operations (yogeki sakusen)” in the western Pacific.3 Japan planned to occupy the Philippines and other strategically important islands in the western Pacific at the outset of war. The Japanese military would then set up a defensive perimeter linking the islands and wait for an American advance into the western Pacific. The Imperial Navy would first employ submarines and harass the US fleet crossing the Pacific Ocean. This submarine operation aimed at destroying about 30 percent of the attacking fleet’s fighting strength. The Imperial Combined Fleet would then intercept and annihilate the weakened US fleet near the Japanese Islands. This passive strategy was in large part modeled after the Imperial Navy’s brilliant victory over the Russian Baltic fleet in 1905. Hence, it

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essentially envisaged a decisive battle fought under the traditional “principle of huge battleships and big guns.”4 The Japanese navy then adopted a new maneuver strategy between 1940 and 1941 under the leadership of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, commander in chief of the Combined Fleet. Japan now aimed “to fiercely attack and destroy the US main fleet at the outset of the war, so that the morale of the US Navy and her people goes down to such an extent that it cannot be recovered.”5 The essence of this new strategy was to entrap the enemy fleet within a harbor and destroy it with air and submarine assaults. At the beginning of hostilities, Japanese aircraft carriers would sail 3,000 miles across the northern Pacific and approach the Hawaiian Islands from the north. This flanking maneuver intended to evade US reconnaissance networks mostly directed toward the southwest thereby achieving complete surprise.6 In the meantime, a submarine force would cruise to the Hawaiian Islands and “encircle Oahu Island.”7 Then the carrier task force would launch an all-out air attack on the US fleet at its anchor and naval facilities. It would be nearly impossible for American ships to maneuver and evade torpedo planes and other bombers inside the narrow harbor, even if they managed to recover from the initial shock of the surprise attack.8 The Japanese submarines would destroy any vessels trying to escape from the carnage or to reinforce the defense.9 Once the US Pacific Fleet was annihilated and its main base of operations disabled, Japan would seize US forward bases in the Philippines, Guam, and so on and occupy other central Pacific Islands.10 The Imperial Navy would build an impregnable defensive perimeter and mobilize resources from newly occupied territories.11 Thus, Japan would achieve “strategic supremacy” in the western Pacific and meet US counter-offensive on favorable terms.12 The frustrated Americans would finally accept a peace agreement negotiated under the good offices of the Soviet Union or the Vatican.13 To be successful, the maneuver strategy depended upon several factors. First, effective deception was essential. The carrier and submarine forces needed to cross the Ocean and approach Pearl Harbor in complete secrecy.14 If the movements had been detected and Tokyo’s strategic intention revealed, the US fleet could have counter-maneuvered and wreaked havoc on the attackers. For this reason, the Japanese striking forces were under orders to abort their missions if detected.15 For secrecy, the carrier task force also planned to cross the deserted region of the northern Pacific, where rough seas rendered seaborne traffic sparse. Second, good intelligence was critical. The surprise attack must be delivered at the moment the bulk of the Pacific Fleet was at anchor in Pearl Harbor. Third, fair weather in the northern Pacific was also important. The carrier task force could not reach Hawaii without refueling en route, which required calm sea for some time. Therefore, it was difficult to execute the Japanese strategy during the winter months.

Shifts in the balance of power The US economy went through a remarkable recovery from the Great Depression between 1933 and 1941. Although Japan’s economy grew steadily over the

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same period, the gap between the United States and Japan in economic power became wider (Figure 5.1). While US gross domestic product (GDP) increased by 82 percent, Japan’s GDP expanded by a less significant 49 percent over this period. The United States had 5.4 times Japan’s GDP in 1941 compared with 4.4 times in 1933. The United States produced 3.2 times more iron/steel in 1941 compared with 1933 levels, while Japan manufactured 2.1 times more. In 1933, US iron/steel production amounted to 7.4 times Japan’s, whereas the ratio increased to about 11 times by 1941. Japan grew faster than the United States only in terms of energy consumption. The United States consumed about 15 percent more energy in 1938 than it did in 1933. In 1938, Japan consumed 67 percent more energy than its 1933 levels. US energy consumption amounted to 7.2 times Japan’s in 1938 compared with 10.5 times in 1933. However, it is important not to exaggerate Japan’s growth in energy consumption during this period. If missing data on Japan’s energy consumption from 1939 to 1941 were available, the gap would probably turn out to be much narrower. Moreover, Japan’s increasing consumption of energy also reflected extra demands that the war with China created. As Japan was losing economic competition, it also came to fall behind in the arms race. Japan simply could not keep up with the United States in terms of military expenditure.16 Washington spent 63 percent more on defense in 1936 1,200,000 Japan United States

Gross domestic product (GDP)

1,000,000

800,000

600,000

400,000

200,000

0 1925

1927

1929

1931

1933

1935

1937

1939

1941

Year

Figure 5.1 Gross domestic product (GDP): USA and Japan, 1925–41 (million 1990 Geary-Khamis dollars). Source: Angus Maddison, Monitoring the World Economy, 1820–1992, Paris: OECD, 1995.

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compared with 1933 levels. In comparison, Tokyo’s defense spending increased only by 27 percent. In terms of ratio, the United States spent 3.3 times more than Japan in 1936 compared with 2.6 times more in 1933. The war with China did lead Tokyo’s defense spending to surpass Washington’s between 1937 and 1940, but much of the increased expenditure was wasted in financing the costly war of attrition in China rather than being invested in boosting Japanese military power.17 Japan’s upper hand in military spending did not last long. US rearmaments began in earnest in response to the outbreak of war in Europe (1939) and Japanese expansion into Southeast Asia, allowing Washington to regain supremacy in military expenditure by 1941. At the same time, a shallow purse and the costly China venture adversely affected Japan’s naval power vis-à-vis the United States. In 1937, Tokyo authorized its third “naval replenishment program,” which would add 66 vessels including 2 aircraft carriers and 2 battleships and 14 air units.18 Washington responded shortly with its second “Vinson Plan,” which called for expenditure about four times that of the Japanese program. Although Japan launched another replenishment program calling for 83 ships in 1939, the United States again responded with the third Vinson Plan (1940) and the “Stark Plan” (1941). These massive American plans would reduce Japanese battleship strength from 70 percent of US strength in 1941 to some 40 percent by 1945.19 Overall naval strength would also decline drastically as Table 5.1 shows. Given their limited shipbuilding capacity and resources, Tokyo was unable to launch a new major replenishment program thereby matching American rearmaments.20 Imperial Japan, an insular nation with poor natural-resource endowments, faced another daunting problem. The Japanese economy and military lacked reliable sources of critical materials such as oil, steel, scrap iron, and machine tools. The Planning Board estimated that some 91 percent of equipment and commodities for military use were imported, mostly from America.21 For example, domestic oil supply including synthetic production accounted for only 10 percent of Japanese consumption in the summer of 1941.22 A similar percentage was imported from the Dutch East Indies, but the remaining came from the United States. These vital supplies went through ominous declines for several reasons. As Nazi Germany threatened the European balance of power, the US government gradually restricted exports of strategic materials for its own rearmament

Table 5.1 Ratio of Japan’s warships to US warships Year

Excluding over-age ships (%)

Including over-age ships (%)

1942 1943 1944

65 50 30

76 60 30

Source: From The Final Confrontation: Japan’s Negotiations with the United States, by James W. Morley. Copyright © 1994 Columbia University Press. Reprinted with permission of the publisher.

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efforts.23 Moreover, the small-yet-important supply from Germany ceased to flow in when the outbreak of Russo-German war severed the trans-Siberian railroad.24 Finally, in response to Japanese expansionism, the Roosevelt government imposed punitive “moral embargoes” on strategic minerals, and oil in the end.25 As the British Empire and the Dutch East Indies joined Washington in the economic sanctions, the so-called ABCD encirclement emerged by mid-1941.

Preventive motive The decline in material power imbued Japanese policy-makers with a strong fear of their future insecurity. An increasing number of leaders thus considered a preventive war seriously. The idea of preventive war was initially confined to the army and hard-line navy officers, then civilian officials and moderate admirals came to share the motive as time went on. Military officers feared the strategic consequences of power decline and often advocated preventive war throughout the pre-war years. They foresaw not only a future vulnerability but also a window of opportunity. The navy and the army calculated that Japan could mitigate its power decline by seizing resources in Southeast Asia and achieving self-sufficiency. Since the war in Europe preoccupied Britain, the Netherlands, and the United States, their Far Eastern possessions were weakly defended. Therefore, it seemed feasible that Japan could defeat its opponents’ local forces and occupy British Malaya, the Dutch East Indies, and the Philippines in an estimated five months. The Imperial Navy also seemed to have a reasonable chance of defeating the US Navy at the outset of war. However, this favorable opportunity for war was likely to vanish by March 1942, as the United States and Britain hurriedly reinforced their Pacific defenses.26 Worse, the Western powers might achieve military preponderance in the region and threaten Japan’s security in a year or two. This mixture of short-term optimism and long-term pessimism was pervasive in military officers’ thoughts and remarks in the years leading up to war. For example, Navy Chief of Staff Osami Nagano saw a rapidly closing window of opportunity. He commented on 3 September 1941: In various respects the Empire is losing materials: that is, we are getting weaker. By contrast, the enemy is getting stronger. With the passage of time, we will get increasingly weaker, and we won’t be able to survive. . . . Ultimately, when there is no hope for diplomacy, and when war cannot be avoided, it is essential that we make up our minds quickly. Although I am confident that at the present time we have a chance to win a war, I fear that this opportunity will disappear with the passage of time.27 When he said that “if there is no war, the fate of the nation is sealed,” Nagano also highlighted the opening window of vulnerability.28 Ayakoto Okazaki, a section chief of the navy ministry, concurred although his concerns specifically focused on the oil supply problem and the southward advance as its solution:

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Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War The problem was oil. If our reserves were dribbled away, Japan would grow weaker and weaker like a TB patient grasping along till he dropped dead on the road. A grim and humiliating end. However, if we could strike boldly and get the oil in the south29

Army Chief of Staff Hajime Sugiyama saw a dissipating opportunity as well: The Empire’s national defense strength would gradually decrease, while at the same time the armaments of the United States and Britain would gradually increase. . . . Therefore, we must open hostilities against the United States and Britain while we have confidence in waging war against them.30 According to a German naval attaché’s report, “the number of those who considered the supply of vital raw materials from the East and South the only means of keeping the nation alive increased steadily after the blockade came into effect,” and there existed a pervasive feeling that “if there is going to be a war, the sooner, the better.”31 Japanese military leaders had a particularly strong motive for preventive war in late 1941, in large part because their maneuver strategy was expected to become obsolete in the near future.32 As winter approached, it became increasingly difficult to refuel the carrier task force in the northern Pacific. Consequently, the planned flanking maneuver would soon become impossible to execute successfully until the spring of 1942. This prospect made even the moderate Admiral Yamamoto anxious and impatient. He reminisced shortly after the Pearl Harbor attack: What made me worry more than anything, however, was the fact that the time of our going to war was called off by one month, a fact which pressed me with intensified fear that refueling in the northern route, the only possible route to take, would no longer be possible to determine the fate of the operation.33 Navy Minister Shigetaro Shimada noted that this concern was widespread among naval officers. He confessed after the war: “The atmosphere of the [Navy] circles also gradually became clear: if war was unavoidable, the sooner the better, considering that the [success of the] Pearl Harbor attack would become uncertain after early December as the last opportunity.”34 The army officers also calculated that amphibious operations in the southern region would be out of the question once winter set in.35 For these reasons, Japan would need to wait until the following spring unless hostilities began no later than early December. However, oil reserves for military operations would become critically low by the spring, and the American and British defenses would be markedly strengthened.36 Consequently, Japan would probably lose its maneuver strategy and thus any opportunity for war. Once the maneuver strategy was lost, Japan’s only military option would be

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based on an attrition strategy. Japanese leaders viewed this alternative as highly unattractive for several reasons. First of all, Japan had a slim chance of victory in a war of attrition because its material power was markedly inferior. In 1941, the United States had 5.4 times the Japanese empire’s GDP and produced 11 times more iron/steel. The US population was also 85 percent larger than Japan’s.37 Therefore, it was obvious that the balance of military power would shift to America’s favor rapidly as its vast industrial and manpower potential became realized, as Table 5.1 shows. “Anyone who has seen the auto factories in Detroit and the oil fields in Texas,” said Yamamoto, “knows that Japan lacks the national power for a naval race with America.”38 Also, Japan was not self-sufficient in raw materials and foodstuffs and, worse, dependent on America and its allies for the vital supplies. This situation would critically impair the Japanese empire’s staying power in a long war of attrition. Japanese leaders also feared that such a war might lead to the collapse of public morale and social order, which had already been undermined in the midst of the “China quagmire.” Imperial Japan thus had good reasons to fear the loss of its maneuver strategy and ensuing strategic vulnerability. In fact, the maneuver strategy was even regarded as a precondition for victory. The Combined Fleet commander wrote: After much study, therefore, I have come to the opinion that the only way is to have a powerful air force strike deep at the enemy’s heart at the very beginning of the war and thus deal a blow, material and moral, from which it will not be able to recover for some time. . . . I, as the authority responsible for the fleet, can see little hope of success in any ordinary strategy.39

Opportunity for diplomacy Tokyo’s aims and the Hull–Nomura talk Facing such rapid deterioration of strategic position, Japan made efforts to stop its power decline by attaining a diplomatic settlement with the United States. Tokyo sought two major concessions to this end. First, the United States must guarantee exports of strategic materials such as oil and scrap iron. The Roosevelt government should also induce Britain and the Netherlands to grant Japan free or preferential access to their raw materials. These measures would alleviate dire resource shortages thereby mitigating economic and military declines. Second, Washington needed to abandon its aid to China and even coerce Chiang Kai-Shek to accept a peace settlement favoring Tokyo. Termination of the costly war would save Japan precious manpower and wealth thereby revitalizing its industrial base. The tortuous diplomatic process began when Tokyo appointed Kichisaburo Nomura as ambassador to the United States in January 1941. In order to achieve these goals, Nomura would continue to negotiate with US Secretary of State Cordell Hull until the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December. Japanese leaders were cautiously optimistic about the prospect of diplomatic

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success at the beginning of negotiations.40 Nomura reflected this optimism when he remarked in January 1941: “there was still some slight chance of success in the negotiations and if I conducted them on the basis of instructions from the government, I might be able to avoid a war in the Pacific.”41 When the so-called “Draft Understanding” arrived at Tokyo in April, most Japanese leaders believed that a satisfactory agreement was imminent.42 They even went so far as to dissolve the cabinet in order to replace the adamant anti-American Foreign Minister Yosuke Matsuoka with pro-American Teijiro Toyoda.43 The cabinet reshuffling was to signal Tokyo’s wish for a better relationship with Washington. The optimistic outlook died out gradually, however, as Japanese leaders came to realize that their terms of settlement fundamentally contradicted America’s wishes as outlined by State Secretary Hull’s “four principles.”44 Washington insisted on respect for territorial integrity, non-interference in domestic affairs, equal commercial opportunity, and peaceful conflict resolution in East Asia. It was army officers who first concluded that diplomacy had a slim chance of success. They now insisted that Japan seek a diplomatic solution only until a certain deadline and decide for war immediately afterward. As hard-line navy officers joined them, early October was set as the deadline for diplomacy at the Imperial Conference of 6 September. Until that time, the Japanese government would continue to negotiate, while simultaneously making preparations for war insofar as they did not hinder diplomacy.45 If no diplomatic success was in sight by the deadline, the Imperial government would decide immediately for either war or submission to American demands. As the “Hull–Nomura negotiations” made little noticeable progress during the following month, the army and hard-line navy officers such as Navy Chief of Staff Nagano again openly requested a decision for war.46 On the other hand, civilian leaders including Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe and Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal Koichi Kido and moderate naval officers such as Navy Minister Koshiro Oikawa and Admiral Teijiro Toyoda were not yet willing to give up on diplomacy.47 They insisted on continuing the negotiations and even accepting a gradual withdrawal from the continent in principle. Consequently, a political impasse resulted from the split of leadership, and the Konoe cabinet dissolved on 16 October. The political deadlock finally ended as a result of Imperial intervention. On 18 October, the Emperor Hirohito ordered Army Minister Hideki Tojo to form a new cabinet and reevaluate policy options from a “clean slate.”48 His ostensible neutrality notwithstanding, the Emperor hoped that the Hull–Nomura negotiations would go on uninterrupted.49 He appointed Tojo as prime minister primarily because he believed that the general alone was capable of controlling the army whatever option was adopted.50 The new cabinet saw three options available to Japan.51 One option was to do nothing and continue to endure economic and military hardships. A second option was to immediately decide for preventive war. A third option was to

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continue pursuing a diplomatic solution until a new deadline. Meanwhile, the army and the navy would make preparations for war and be combat-ready by early December. A war would start as soon as negotiations failed. After a heated debate, the Tojo government decided for the third option at the Imperial Conference of 5 November. The first of December was set as the new deadline for diplomacy. Military operations were expected to begin on 7 December in case diplomacy failed. The Japanese government then prepared instructions on its negotiating position. “Proposal A” listed Tokyo’s rather lavish demands for American concessions. Few government officials believed that Washington would accept this proposal. “Proposal B” contained Japan’s minimum terms of settlement. All cabinet members including Foreign Minister Shigenori Togo and Finance Minister Okinori Kaya thought that war would be unavoidable if Washington rejected this proposal.52 Togo hoped that the proposal, combined with additional last-minute concessions, could produce a viable settlement, although he was far from optimistic.53 Prime Minister Tojo also estimated that “there is still some hope for success” based upon this proposal.54 He said on 1 November: “[Proposal] B is not a pretext for going to war; I swear to the gods that with this plan I hope to reach an accommodation with the United States whatever it takes.”55 Ambassador Nomura first presented the United States with Proposal A and, upon its rejection, followed with Proposal B on November 20. The content of Proposal B was as follows56: 1 Both the Governments of Japan and the United States undertake not to make any armed advancement into any of the regions in the Southeastern Asia and the Southern Pacific area excepting the part of French Indo-China where the Japanese troops are stationed at present. 2 The Japanese Government undertakes to withdraw its troops now stationed in French Indo-China upon either the restoration of peace between Japan and China or the establishment of an equitable peace in the Pacific area. In the meantime the Government of Japan declares that it is prepared to remove its troops now stationed in the southern part of French Indo-China to the northern part of the said territory upon the conclusion of the present arrangement which shall later be embodied in the final agreement. 3 The Governments of Japan and the United States shall cooperate with a view to securing the acquisition of those goods and commodities which the two countries need in Netherlands East Indies. 4 The Governments of Japan and the United States mutually undertake to restore their commercial relations to those prevailing prior to the freezing of the assets. The Government of the United States shall supply Japan a required quantity of oil. 5 The Government of the United States undertakes to refrain from such measures and actions as will be prejudicial to the endeavors for the restoration of general peace between Japan and China.

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In a nutshell, Japan called on the United States to cease aid to China and economic embargo in exchange for an end to its southern expansion. Washington’s firm stance and endgame Despite hopes to the contrary, Tokyo failed to gain these concessions from Washington. State Secretary Hull categorically rejected the allegedly accommodating Proposal B. Instead of giving a simple negative response, Hull presented his own counterproposal reconfirming Washington’s long-established positions.57 The “Hull note” of 26 November listed ten “steps to be taken by the Government of the United States and by the Government of Japan.” Most importantly, the secretary of state requested: “The Government of Japan will withdraw all military, naval, air and police forces from China and Indochina.”58 He also asked Tokyo to nullify the Tripartite Pact signed in September 1940 thereby giving the United States a “free hand” in European and East Asian politics.59 Only if these and other demands were met, would Washington “remove the freezing restrictions on Japanese funds in the United States” and “enter into negotiation for the conclusion between the United States and Japan of a trade agreement, based upon reciprocal most-favored nation treatment and reduction of trade barriers.”60 Hull was well aware that Proposal B delivered on 20 November was Japan’s “last word.”61 Given Tokyo’s deadline for negotiation, the American proposal was tantamount to a virtual ultimatum, although Hull resisted this interpretation.62 After presenting the note, the United States could only bolster its military readiness. Hull thus notified War Secretary Henry Stimson on 27 November: “I have washed my hands of it, and it is now in the hands of you and [Navy Secretary Frank] Knox – the army and the navy.”63 Many US officials understood that the rejection of Japanese demands would provoke an attack against the Dutch East Indies or the British possessions in an attempt to acquire oil fields and other strategic materials. Key diplomats repeatedly warned that Japan under economic duress would attempt to conquer the resource-rich Southeast Asia.64 For example, Joseph Grew, the American ambassador in Tokyo, argued that strong economic pressure might force Japan into an “all-out, do or die attempt to render Japan impervious to foreign economic embargoes, even risking national harakiri rather than cede to foreign pressure.”65 A complete oil embargo, President Roosevelt himself foresaw, “would simply drive the Japanese down to the Dutch East Indies, and it would mean war in the Pacific.”66 From an American standpoint, such an event was undesirable because Britain might be forced to confront Japan by itself. Although Roosevelt was convinced that a Japanese further incursion into Southeast Asia would necessitate an armed intervention, there was much doubt that the Congress and the public would give consent.67 Given the fact that the public had been reluctant to enter the war even against the most-hated foe – Nazi Germany – which attacked the mainland of the British and Dutch, it would be doubly difficult to sell a fight for their

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colonies. In this worse-case scenario of American non-intervention, Japan would have easily driven Britain out of the resource-rich region, weakening British war efforts in Europe.68 Even if congressional approval managed to come forth, the United States would have to fight a costly war nearly single-handedly in the Pacific while resisting Germany at the same time. The United States, however, was willing to take these risks which it calculated to be worthwhile for two reasons.69 First, the Roosevelt administration saw a vital national security interest in keeping Japan bogged down in China. Had Washington conceded Tokyo’s demands, Japan with an access to strategic materials would have subdued China without American support. Therefore, accepting the Japanese proposal was tantamount to “aiding and abetting Japan in her effort to create a Japanese hegemony in and over the western Pacific and Eastern Asia.”70 More importantly, a triumphant Japan – with its economy revitalized and its army released from the China quagmire – might invade the beleaguered Soviet Union. The Roosevelt government was determined to prevent Nazi Germany from dominating Europe and threatening the nation’s security. For that purpose, it was important to deter Japan from attacking the Soviet Union from the rear thereby assisting the German bid for hegemony.71 Such a northward invasion was unlikely insofar as Japan was struggling with China and suffering a shortage of strategic materials including oil.72 Even a return to the status quo ante prior to the Japanese occupation of southern French Indochina in late July was not sufficient, since Japan with the oil embargo lifted would still pose a significant threat to the Soviet Union. Second, the United States had significant confidence in its military strategy against Japan. The American war plan – Rainbow No. 5 – envisioned a long attrition war initiated by a Japanese thrust into Southeast Asia.73 Instead of rushing into a risky counter-offensive, the US Navy and Army would initially hold off any attacks on the Philippines and other US outposts east of the Alaska–Hawaii–Panama line. Then the United States would concentrate the Battle Fleet and the Expeditionary Force at Pearl Harbor and begin a westward advance. The navy would first capture the Marshall and Caroline Islands in cooperation with the army and secure the lines of communications to the western Pacific.74 The joint forces would then relieve the garrison and the Asiatic Fleet in the Philippines and establish an advanced base for naval operations at Manila Bay. By this time, the United States would establish “naval power in the Western Pacific in strength superior to that of [Japan]” with which to “operate offensively in the area” and win decisive naval battles.75 Command of the sea surrounding Japan would enable an effective naval blockade as well as “intensive air attacks” on the Japanese war industries and transportation. These offensive actions would bring Japan to its knees by effecting “the eventual economic starvation of Japan, and finally, the complete destruction of her external military power.”76 For American planners, this war plan appeared to be a recipe for certain victory given US material superiority, although the accomplishment of this aim was expected to “require several years, and the absorption of the full military, naval, and economic energy of the American people.”77

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Such faith in American invincibility was so powerful that some US officials even anticipated that Japan would not further advance into Southeast Asia. They believed that Japan would not dare to risk a war against the United States.78 Its superior military and potential power, they reasoned, would dissuade Tokyo from starting a suicidal war. For example, Stanley Hornbeck who directed the Far Eastern Affairs Division at the State Department said confidently in late October 1941: “Name me one country which has ever gone to war in desperation.”79 He went on to predict a few days later that “the Japanese government does not desire or intend or expect to have forthwith armed conflict with the United States.” This faith in invincibility, however, resulted partly from ignorance of Japan’s deceptive maneuver strategy. Americans based their strategic calculations on a questionable assumption: Japan could not force, not to mention win, a decisive battle at the outset of war. If an early battle could be forced prior to its full mobilization, Rainbow No. 5 might not be able to produce the envisioned victory. At worst, if the Pacific Fleet suffered a devastating loss in battle, it would prove difficult to attain sufficient naval superiority at the same time that the United States was fighting an undeclared war in the Atlantic. Even if the American fleet could avoid a disaster, the American war plan would cost more lives, materiel, and time to execute or might even fail to achieve a decisive victory. However, American planners were unaware that Japan had created an instrument that could bring about this outcome – Pearl Harbor attack plan – due to the deceptive nature of the maneuver strategy. Consequently, they simply ignored the possibility of losing the Pacific Fleet at the outset thereby falling victim to the myth of American invincibility. Had US leaders recognized the viability of the “Hawaii Operation,” they might have become more cautious and accommodating at the negotiation table since the United States had much to gain by postponing a large-scale armed conflict with Japan. Both civilian and military leaders understood that it was prudent to avoid a war with Japan and concentrate on the naval struggle in the Atlantic for the time being.80 The Joint Board’s “Victory Program” of 11 September 1941 clearly articulated this “Europe-first strategy”: The principal strategic method employed by the United States in the immediate future should be the material support of present military operations against Germany, and their reinforcement by active participation in the war by the United States, while holding Japan in check pending future developments.81 The United States also needed more time to mobilize its war potential and strengthen its fleet and defenses in the Pacific theater. However, American planners underestimated Japan’s military capability because its strategy was deceptive; as a result, they were less willing to make concessions. Therefore, the Japanese maneuver strategy was in important part responsible for the breakdown of diplomacy.

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Opportunity for war As the United States rejected Japan’s minimum terms of settlement, it became clear to all that diplomacy had no chance of success given the rivals’ irreconcilable demands.82 Japanese leaders finally reached a “unanimous agreement” regarding the futility of diplomacy.83 At the Imperial Conference of 1 December 1941, Prime Minister Tojo denounced the Hull note, saying: The United States demanded complete and unconditional withdrawal of troops from China. . . . This not only belittled the dignity of our Empire and made it impossible for us to harvest the fruits of the China Incident, but also threatened the very existence of our Empire. It became evident that we could not achieve our goals by means of diplomacy.84 Navy Minister Shimada and his colleagues shared the prime minister’s view: Here was a harsh reply from the United States unyielding and unbending. It contained no recognition of the endeavours we had made toward concessions in the negotiations. There were no members of the Cabinet nor responsible officials of the General Staff who advocated acceptance of the Hull Note. The view taken was that this communication was an ultimatum threatening the existence of our country. The general opinion was that acceptance of the conditions of this note would be tantamount to the defeat of Japan. It seems clear that no nation willingly relegates itself to a secondary position as a world power if it can help it.85 Even the moderate Foreign Minister Togo found Hull’s terms of settlement “unreasonable” and came to regard further diplomatic efforts hopeless.86 He even suspected that the American proposal might have been deliberately designed so that Japan could not accept it.87 The foreign minister could no longer support continued negotiation with Washington and finally concluded: In short, one must say that it was virtually impossible for us to accept their proposal; and even if we were to continue negotiations on the basis of their proposal in order to get the United States to withdraw it, it would be almost impossible for us to obtain what we seek.88 As such, Japanese leaders by early December reached a unanimous conclusion that diplomacy had no chance of success. Consequently, they were left with two alternatives: Japan could continue to lose power or fight a preventive war. In the end, Tokyo found its inevitable decline unbearable and chose war. Since “we have now reached the point where we can no longer allow the situation to continue,” concluded Tojo, “our Empire has no alternative but to begin war.”89 The Imperial Conference made its final decision for war on 1 December 1941. The Japanese decided to fight rather than acquiesce to its decline because

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they believed that the United States was not invincible. Key decision-makers calculated that Japan had a reasonable if not excellent chance of conquering and keeping Southeast Asia. Had they lacked such military confidence, they would not have fought with materially superior Americans. The Japanese army had strong confidence in its military capability. For example, the minutes of the Liaison Conference held on 1 November recorded that Army Chief of Staff Sugiyama said “he is confident that Army operations, given Navy protection of transportation on the high seas, would assure control of the occupied areas.”90 There were two reasons for this optimism. One was that the army would not face serious resistance in the Southern Operation.91 Army officers traditionally concerned themselves only with ground operations, which would mostly take place in the southern area. Since the American and British garrisons there could be easily overrun, they had a good reason to remain optimistic throughout the pre-war years. General Tanaka Shinichi, the chief of the operations division, estimated that the southward advance would meet only minimal opposition and be completed in about five months.92 The other reason for optimism was the expectation that a forceful Soviet intervention was unlikely. The Soviet Union had been embroiled in the life-and-death struggle in Europe since June 1941. Moreover, its Siberian army would remain unable to launch an offensive in Manchuria until the spring of 1942 as the harsh winter set in.93 In military outlook, the navy was split into two factions. On the one hand, there existed a group of hard-liners including Navy Chief of Staff Nagano and middle-echelon officers. They estimated that Japan could win the war with the United States. When the Emperor asked about Japan’s odds of victory, for example, Nagano responded: “I cannot say it is certain, but it is probable.”94 The navy chief expressed some qualified confidence even in a protracted war: Our Empire has not [the] means by which to subjugate the enemy by invasion operations or break his will to fight. . . . However . . . if this first-stage operation should be accomplished promptly, the Empire then will be in a position to secure strategic points in the Southwest Pacific, [and] even if [the] military preparations of the United States develop as scheduled, we shall be able to establish the foundation for a long war by maintaining an invincible position.95 In his view, the “strategy of interceptive operation” might produce victory if only the initial “Southern Operation” succeeded.96 Middle-echelon officers such as section chiefs of the general staff were even more confident and warlike. For instance, Captains Sadatoshi Tomioka and Shingo Ishikawa reportedly said: “Now is the time to strike; we won’t be defeated.”97 These hard-liners based their confidence on the Imperial Navy’s superior “spirit” and skill.98 On the other hand, Admiral Yamamoto led a moderate group that was less sanguine about Japan’s odds of victory. This faction preached caution and moderation in foreign policy, mainly because it had little confidence in Japan’s

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military capability. “Do not forget American Industry is much more developed than ours – and unlike us they have all the oil they want,” Yamamoto warned in a public speech, “Japan cannot beat America. Therefore she should not fight America.”99 He also wrote to Navy Minister Shimada: When one views the situation as a whole, it is obvious that a collision between Japan and America should be avoided if at all possible and that the important thing at the moment is to show patience, circumspection, and a willingness to put up with any unpleasantness for the sake of the final goal.100 These soft-liners also believed that the opening window of vulnerability alone did not warrant a risky preventive war. There needed to exist a good opportunity for war as well. For instance, Admiral Keisuke Okada refuted the hard-liners’ call for preventive attack, saying: “They talk a lot about sapping Japan’s strength . . . but a slow sapping is at least better than having it destroyed all at once. . . . Japan should be very careful about launching a war at this point in time.”101 Yamamoto and his moderate followers viewed a maneuver strategy as a precondition for victory. They believed that Japan could not win a protracted war with the United States.102 Yamamoto told the then Prime Minister Konoe in September 1941: If it is necessary to fight, in the first six months to a year of war against the United States and England I will run wild. I will show you an uninterrupted succession of victories. But I must also tell you that if the war be prolonged for two or three years I have no confidence in our ultimate victory.103 There were two reasons for his pessimism on Japan’s long-term prospect in war. One was the fact that the Japanese war machine depended heavily on American oil.104 Even though oil in the Dutch East Indies could be secured and shipped quickly, Japan would run out of oil in three years at most.105 Another reason was that the naval balance would rapidly shift to America’s favor once hostilities began, given US industrial might.106 Therefore, Japan had a shot at victory only to the extent that the initial opportunity was exploited successfully and war ended shortly.107 In Yamamoto’s view, Japan’s chance of victory depended upon what it could achieve at the outset of war. Japan needed to annihilate the Pacific Fleet quickly in order to shift the naval balance decisively in its favor.108 The Combined Fleet commander believed that only the “Hawaii Operation” could promise this outcome. The memorandum of the Combined Fleet stated: When we consider the naval strength ratio between the United States and Japan, we see that we would have no chance of victory unless a decisive attack was launched at the earliest possible opportunity. Therefore, the

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Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War Hawaii Operation is truly indispensable to the accomplishment of the mission assigned to the Japanese navy. Unless it is carried out, the commander in chief of the Combined Fleet has no confidence that he can fulfill his assigned responsibility.109

Yamamoto understandably had no confidence in the attrition-oriented “strategy of interceptive operations.” The Japanese navy could not afford to wait passively until the United States could mobilize an overwhelming force according to War Plan Rainbow No. 5. By the time the US Navy advanced into the western Pacific, it would have achieved marked superiority over the Imperial Navy. A decisive victory would prove nearly improbable under these circumstances, and America’s superior industrial might and rich resources would prevail in the end.110 War games had corroborated this point repeatedly.111 Yamamoto wrote in January 1941: Up to now studies regarding operational policies have focused on fair and square interceptive operations. As I read the results of repeated war games, the Imperial Navy has not once achieved a great victory. It has been the usual practice to stop a war game whenever there was concern that it might lead to “gradual pauperization” if it were continued.112 The commander in chief of the Combined Fleet thus openly expressed his “lack of confidence in a perfectly safe, properly ordered frontal attack,” that is, interceptive operation.113 One episode well illustrates his pessimistic view of the conventional war plan.114 A friend of Yamamoto once asked him whether it was possible to win a decisive interceptive battle like the famous “Battle of Tsushima Straits” in the event of war with the United States. Yamamoto replied that this might be possible only if the opponent launched an all-out offensive at the outset but that the enemy would be most unlikely to do so. The Japanese navy had acquired fairly accurate information on US war plans by the mid1930s.115 This excellent intelligence may have enabled Yamamoto to correctly anticipate a steady counterattack rather than a prompt sally from the US Navy. Shigeru Fukudome, the operations section chief of the naval general staff, agreed with Yamamoto, as he testified after the war: If the Japanese navy had not launched the Hawaii attack and had consequently encountered the US Fleet advancing on the Marshall and West Caroline Islands in pursuance of their Rainbow No. 5 operational plan, it would have been impossible for the Japanese navy to have inflicted greater damage than it did in the Pearl Harbor attack, however favorable an estimate may be applied to the case.116 Since the Pacific Ocean interposed between Japanese and American territories, the navy would be responsible for most of the fighting during war.117 Therefore, the navy’s opinion on its military prospects figured crucially in making key

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decisions involving the United States.118 Even the powerful army needed consent from naval quarters in order to start war.119 One admiral described the unique responsibility and authority of the navy as follows: The primary responsibility for Japan going to war rests on the navy. We cannot blame the ignorant and reckless army. Neither public opinion nor the Emperor could have halted the plunge towards war – but the navy could have. The navy alone was in a position to stand against Tojo. If it had done so Japan could not have gone to war. The navy, with its broad outlook on the world, gave way to the insular army. The navy is to blame.120 Key army officers clearly respected the navy’s authority. “If at this point [naval officers] say they have no confidence,” the then Army Minister Tojo said in October 1941, “there will be no choice but to call everything off and start all over again . . . in fact, this war is not possible without confident resolve on the part of the navy.”121 This indispensable consent would not come forth insofar as the navy leadership remained split and paralyzed. The deadlock of Japanese decision-making in October 1941 illustrates this point well. The army came to expect no diplomatic breakthrough and wanted to initiate war no later than early October. Navy Chief of Staff Nagano and middle-echelon officers agreed with the army’s position.122 However, these hard-liners were unable to turn their preferences into official policy at that moment, in large part because soft-line naval officers such as Oikawa, Yamamoto, and Shimada lacked similar confidence and opposed war. Navy Minister Oikawa believed that the Japanese navy could not defeat its American rival, although he was unwilling to admit it in public for political reasons.123 Therefore, Oikawa declined to state his position clearly and thus created the political deadlock. The ensuing paralysis of decision-making then sufficed to frustrate the army’s drive toward war for the moment. The maneuver strategy created by moderate Yamamoto ironically played an essential role in resolving the naval leadership split and inducing the navy’s consent for war. The navy adopted Yamamoto’s strategy officially on 20 October 1941. As a result, the soft-line naval officers came to have increased military confidence, as what they viewed as a precondition for victory was now in place. Moreover, as the hard-liners accepted the soft-liners’ arguments about the promise of maneuver, they believed that a victorious short war was possible. Accordingly, they anticipated the seemingly inevitable war with greater confidence. Finally, Yamamoto and his followers had spent much of their political capital on having their maneuver strategy adopted. Therefore, they could no longer mount effective opposition against the war itself. Consequently, the split in the naval leadership was bridged to a considerable extent. Once the navy overcame the impasse and finally gave the army its consent for war, war became inevitable since the civilian government had no practical power to challenge the consensus formed in military circles.124 Fumimaro Konoe described the uncontested supremacy of the military as follows: “the Cabinet,

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and hence the civil government, were manipulated like puppets by the Supreme Command and amounted to little more than weak fixtures.”125 Military officers dominated the policy-making process through the Imperial HeadquartersCabinet Liaison Conference. According to Hideki Tojo: after [the Liaison Conferences] had got through deciding things, the Cabinet, generally speaking, made no objection. Theoretically, the Cabinet members could have disagreed, since the Liaison Conference was not a decision-making body, but, as a practical matter, they agreed and did not say anything.126 Foreign Minister Togo confirmed this point: the military authorities were not only interfering in politics but were exercising such influence as to control and direct national policy . . . while the military members of the Liaison Conference exercised great influence on affairs of state, the civilian members exercised very little or none on military affairs, and were not allowed even knowledge of military operations.127 Nor could the Emperor Hirohito challenge unanimous decisions made by the military. According to Koichi Kido, “the Emperor was not in a position to refuse any policy on which the government and the High Command had decided, and so, therefore, he could do nothing but approve.”128 As US Ambassador Joseph Grew put it, “the military are distinctly running the government and no step can be taken without their approval.”129

Competing theories Offense–defense theory Stephen Van Evera offers the following explanation for the outbreak of the Pacific War in his Causes of War.130 • •

•

Preventive motive. Japan had a strong motive for preventive war since it perceived “enormous” windows of opportunity and vulnerability. Opportunity for diplomacy. Japan failed to reach a settlement with the United States for two reasons. Since the windows pressured Japanese leaders to act with great haste, diplomacy was truncated prematurely. In addition, Tokyo harbored strong mistrust about an agreement with Washington. Opportunity for war. Tokyo perceived an excellent military opportunity in 1941 because Japan held a temporary naval advantage in the Pacific over the United States. The war in Europe also distracted the western powers and the Soviet Union thereby giving Japan a significant military edge in Asia.

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It is notable that his accounts lack explicit reference to the offense–defense balance. Therefore, I need to find out how the Japanese perceived the balance in order to evaluate his theory. The United States and Japan had marked defensive advantage in the pre-war period (see Appendix). Offensive operations were highly difficult because of the vast Pacific Ocean, despite the fact that offense-enhancing technologies such as aircraft carriers and tanks were readily available. This reality gave Japanese naval officers a strong faith in defense prior to the war. They believed that a navy was unable to operate effectively more than 2,000 miles away from its base.131 Every thousand-mile advance was also expected to cost a fleet a 10 percent loss of its combat capability. Therefore, Navy General Staff studies concluded in August 1941 that “there would be chance of success if [Japan] have a naval ratio of at least 50 per cent that of the United States,” if interceptive operations took place in home waters.132 It was also a common belief that Japan would have no problem defeating the United States insofar as it could maintain a 70 percent ratio in surface warships and 80,000 tons in submarines.133 In a nutshell, an attacker crossing the vast Pacific Ocean would be put in a markedly disadvantageous position. Given these calculations, offense–defense theory can explain Japan’s strong motive for preventive war. As Table 5.1 shows, the Japanese navy would have only 30 percent of US naval strength by 1944, if both navies completed their current construction programs on schedule. Japan would thus have insufficient naval strength for defense by that time. In light of this projection, it is understandable that Japan saw an “enormous” window of vulnerability on the horizon and had a powerful preventive motive. Van Evera fails to explain the breakdown of diplomacy, however. If his offense–defense theory were powerful, the Hull–Nomura negotiations should have succeeded, given the overwhelming defensive advantage. Also, there exists at best mixed evidence that haste posed an intractable obstacle to a negotiated settlement. Although the rapid depletion of military capability indeed imposed intense time constraints on the Japanese diplomats, it is likely that they would still have failed to attain diplomatic success even if additional time had been available. The main reason for the diplomatic failure was the two countries’ contradictory aims rather than insufficient time. In fact, Tokyo and Washington had enough time to figure out clearly what the other side wanted. The Americans understood that “Proposal B” was Tokyo’s final word when they issued the Hull note in response. Washington was even informed that Japan had set 29 November as the deadline for diplomacy.134 When the Australian minister suggested mediation on that day, Hull declared that “the diplomatic stage was over and that nothing would come of a move of that kind.”135 By that time, Japanese leaders also realized that the Roosevelt government had no inclination to accept their minimum demands. Neither was mistrust an insurmountable obstacle, contrary to Van Evera’s assertion. It was true that some hard-line officers discounted the value of agreements and attempted to undercut the Hull–Nomura negotiations.136 For example,

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Army Chief Sugiyama initially refused to accept any short-term, limited agreement.137 However, most high-level officials had enough trust so that a modus vivendi like Proposal B was unanimously endorsed.138 Even Sugiyama relented and accepted Proposal B in the end. There is also weak support for offense–defense theory’s explanation of military opportunity. The theory cannot explain the fact that Tokyo anticipated successes in the Hawaii and Southern Operations. As noted, the Japanese navy believed that the defender would win a victory if it had no less than 70 percent of the attacker’s strength. In other words, the attacking navy needed at least a 43 percent superiority in order to defeat the defender. In November 1941, Japan only had 71 percent of US overall naval strength while holding a 7 percent advantage in the Pacific theater.139 The Hawaii Operation was to take place deep in America’s home waters. Therefore, the Japanese navy would have insufficient force for the offensive operation by its own standard, even if the entire Combined Fleet had been employed. Moreover, the force level might prove insufficient even for the Southern Operation that would take place in remote hostile waters near the enemy forward bases in Singapore, the Philippines, and the Dutch East Indies. Given this situation, offense–defense theory would falsely predict that Japanese leaders would have anticipated the failure of initial offensive operations despite their marginal military advantage. The defense-dominance can account for Japan’s confidence in the new defensive barrier linking the Pacific Islands, but this does not give much credit to offense–defense theory. The theory focuses on the initial phase of conquest rather than the latter stage of consolidation. As two prominent theorists posit, “offense is logically and temporally prior to counteroffensive [and] counteroffense only rises if and to the extent that initial offensive succeed.”140 Therefore, conquest itself should figure most importantly in any explanation for war based on offense–defense theory. And the offense–defense balance fails to account for this critical phase of war in this case. Dynamic differentials theory There is no major publication that applies dynamic differentials theory to analyze the coming of the Pacific War. Dale Copeland’s book does however offer a one-paragraph outline of a possible explanation.141 Thus, I constructed the following explanation based on his theory and the available account. •

•

Preventive motive. The Japanese had a strong motive for preventive war since the Americans were expected to achieve military preponderance in the near future. Opportunity for diplomacy. Diplomacy had no chance of success from the beginning. The Japanese made no genuine effort to reach a diplomatic settlement because they feared that the United States would renege on it later. Tokyo used the Hull–Nomura negotiations in order to hide its aggressive intentions.

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Opportunity for war. Japan had strong military confidence because of a favorable power balance. As the war in Europe preoccupied Britain, France, and the Soviet Union, the distribution of power in East Asia became more bipolar. Therefore, even a slight military superiority over the United States sufficed to imbue Japan with military optimism.

Dynamic differentials theory offers a satisfactory explanation for Japan’s strong preventive motive. Japanese leaders feared that the United States would attain military supremacy in East Asia if they failed to act soon. Japan would then fall to a subordinate and precarious position. For example, Tojo predicted on 5 November 1941: Two years from now we will have no petroleum for military use. Ships will stop moving. When I think about the strengthening of American defenses in the Southwest Pacific, the expansion of the American fleet, the unfinished China Incident, and so on, I see no end to difficulties. . . . I fear that we would become a third-class nation after two or three years if we just sat tight.142 In a similar vein, Navy Chief of Staff Nagano forecasted that “If there were no war, the fate of the nation was sealed.”143 The theory cannot explain the failure of diplomacy, however. Tokyo did make a sincere effort for diplomatic settlement, contrary to the theory’s prediction. First of all, the Emperor Hirohito until the last minute desired that his government resort to force only after all possible diplomatic options were employed.144 Civilian officials and moderate naval officers also subscribed to the Emperor’s diplomacy-first approach. The then Prime Minister Konoe argued in the 6 September Imperial Conference: We must complete [our] preparations . . . and at the same time must take all diplomatic means to prevent the outbreak of a disastrous war. Only in case such diplomatic measures fail within a certain period of time should we resort to the last means of self-defense.145 Also, Foreign Minister Togo and Navy Minister Shimada agreed to join the Tojo cabinet in October 1941 only after the new prime minister had “emphatically agreed that it would be the policy of the government to start from scratch in attempting to wholeheartedly and sincerely reach a diplomatic settlement to the end of preventing war in accordance with the Emperor’s wish.”146 Even the hawkish Navy Chief Nagano had asserted on 21 July: “if we could settle things without war, there would be nothing better.”147 Army Chief Sugiyama had shared his colleague’s view. In addition, diplomatic efforts often took priority to the extent that preparations for military operations were hindered. Tojo admitted on 5 November: “in the hope that there might be some way to break the impasse, the Government

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sought a settlement, even though it meant some sacrifice of freedom in military operations.”148 Combined Fleet Commander Yamamoto also instructed field commanders of the Hawaii Operation forces immediately prior to their departure: Should the negotiations with the US now in progress in Washington be successful, we shall order our forces to withdraw. If such an order is received, you are to turn about and come back to base, even if the attack force has already taken off from the carriers.149 As such, mistrust did not stop Tokyo from pursuing a diplomatic solution until the last possible moment. Dynamic differentials theory performs fairly well in explaining Japan’s military optimism in the pre-war years. Although Japan did not possess marked military superiority, its slight military advantage in the Pacific theater sufficed to create optimism in the quasi-bipolar environment as the theory would predict. Tokyo indeed faced a favorable strategic opportunity that only a bipolar environment could provide under usual circumstances. East Asia was not a bipolar system in the strict meaning of the term. According to John Mearsheimer, “to qualify as a great power, a state must have sufficient military assets to put up a serious fight in an all-out conventional war against the most powerful state.”150 The Soviet Union and Britain could deploy sizable forces in the region and conduct major conventional operations against Japan if necessary. The Siberian army alone could deter Japan’s invasion against the Soviet Union even without considerable reinforcements.151 Therefore, the Soviet Union and Britain should count as great powers, and power distribution in Asia was thus multipolar in December 1941. However, there were no obstacles to aggression that are usually present in multipolarity. No “state sitting on the sidelines” could benefit from a costly bilateral war across the Pacific, since all the other major powers had already been engaged in the European conflict. Washington’s potential allies including Britain and Russia were also unwilling to give the utmost priority to checking Japan’s expansion in the short run.152 Moreover, the Japanese calculated that Germany would defeat the Soviet Union and Britain and that a true bipolar order would emerge in the near future.153 In this favorable strategic environment, Japan gained significant confidence from its slight theater-wide military edge as the theory would predict. Foreign Minister Togo wrote: Many in Army and Navy circles, the younger officers especially, were fascinated by the increasingly formidable military strength of Japan. The Army, having devoted the major part of its appropriations since the beginning of the China affair to mechanization, felt that its fighting power had been vastly enhanced; the Navy, confident of its fleet (which since the abrogation of the Naval Limitation Treaty, had come to include types of vessels peculiar to Japan), believed itself invincible.154

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The navy was especially proud of the superior quality of its armament, personnel, and tactics.155 Its I-class fleet submarine boasted a remarkable cruising radius of 10,000 miles, which enabled it to reach the US west coast and return on a single fuel load.156 Even smaller RO-class submarine was capable of cruising to the Hawaiian Islands and back without refueling. The Japanese carrier force was equipped with Mitsubishi A6M “Zero” fighter aircraft and the Type 91 aerial torpedo, arguably the best in the world at that time.157 In addition, military personnel had acquired valuable combat experience in China and were highly trained and motivated. Japan anticipated a favorable military balance particularly at the initial phase of war, as the US forces were divided in the two theaters of operation. Navy Chief of Staff Nagano estimated on 5 November: The ratio of our fleet to that of the United States is 7.5 to 10; but 40 per cent of the American fleet is in the Atlantic Ocean, and 60 per cent is in the Pacific . . . the United States would need considerable time if she should withdraw ships from the Atlantic Ocean and come to attack us. . . . We are, therefore, confident of victory.158 The Japanese navy had ten commissioned aircraft carriers including six large ones, three light ones, and an outdated one in December 1941.159 On the other hand, the US Navy just had seven carriers – six large and one small – and deployed only three of the large carriers in the Pacific. Power transition theory According to power transition theorists, Imperial Japan was dissatisfied with the status quo and determined to impose its own international order on East Asia, but it did not have sufficient power to achieve this goal in 1941.160 For example, the GDP of the United States was 5.4 times that of Japan at that time. Japan nevertheless attacked the United States because “rapid growth and a series of victories over weak opponents made it appear to Japan that the power gap between herself and the United States was much smaller than it really was.”161 Substantial evidence contradicts this account. As noted above, Japan was not experiencing rapid growth relative to the United States, but noticeable power declines in the run-up to war, and this decline in power motivated Japan to fight. Although Japan’s GDP increased in absolute terms, there is no evidence that this trend gave Japanese leaders any significant confidence. It is also hard to claim that Japan overestimated its relative power because of its previous victories. While Japan indeed won armed conflicts in Manchuria (1931) and Indochina (1940), it suffered humiliating defeats at the hands of the Soviet Union in Changkufeng (1938) and Nomonhan (1939).162 Most importantly, Japan since 1937 was having enormous difficulties in subduing China which it considered as a second-rate power. Contrary to power transition theorists’ account, Japanese leaders were also aware of the remarkable power imbalance, harboring little

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illusion that any parity in aggregate power existed between Japan and the United States, as the foregoing analysis reveals.

Sources of military strategy It was indeed good strategic acumen and intelligence that made the Japanese maneuver strategy possible.163 The Japanese intelligence apparatus was efficient enough to decipher the broad outline of enemy war plans.164 Thanks to such information, Admiral Yamamoto understood that American planners did not expect a major attack on Pearl Harbor at the onset of hostilities and concentrated their limited reconnaissance activities in the southwestern Pacific, presenting an opportunity to decimate the Pacific Fleet. The astute Combined Fleet commander calculated that his strike force could reach the target undetected by steaming across the deserted northern Pacific and could catch the American fleet off guard completely. When this idea was formally proposed to the navy general staff in January 1941, few colleagues understood the merit of his maneuver-centered plan. One skeptic complained: “it was like putting one’s head in the lion’s mouth. It was a mistake to engage in such a gamble in the first battle of a major war on which the nation’s future depended.”165 After numerous debates and map maneuvers, however, Yamamoto was eventually able to convince Navy Chief Nagano and Operations Section Chief Fukudome that the Hawaii Operation was viable and necessary.166 Once Yamamoto’s strategic concept was accepted, skilled staff officers resolved technical difficulties – most notably, developing torpedoes to be used in the shallow waters within Pearl Harbor and refueling warships in the rough northern Pacific – to create a workable plan. As this episode reveals, the Japanese navy had astute, competent operational planners who received first-rate education at home and abroad as well as had extensive combat experience: Yamamoto, for example, graduated from Harvard University and US Naval War College and served in several wars including the RussoJapanese War 1904–05. Also, its decision-making system was largely receptive of their innovative ideas. The American military leaders, on the other hand, failed to understand the opponent’s strategic intent for some reasons. Although Magic and Ultra – key US secret code-breaking operations – were capable of providing high-quality information, the Japanese navy could neutralize it by maintaining strict communications silence and feeding false signals to the Americans.167 To make matters worse, the US leadership did not adequately utilize available competent intelligence analyses. For instance, two officers in charge of air defense in Hawaii forecasted the direction, scale, and even hour of a possible Japanese attack in early 1941, but their study did not draw adequate attention from their superiors.168 The resultant gap in strategic knowledge enabled the Japanese navy to effectively maneuver at the onset of war, although the United States gradually overcame its deficiencies and gained an upper hand as the war proceeded. It is difficult to argue that the Japanese strategy was simply an extension of the offense–defense balance, since no predicted correlation is observed. As

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noted earlier, the Japanese perceived a defensive advantage in the pre-war years. Therefore, they should have adopted an attrition strategy if the balance had heavily influenced their strategic planning. But Japan eventually adopted a maneuver-oriented strategy. It is also worth mentioning that Yamamoto’s maneuver strategy took advantage of the rough and vast northern Pacific – the very natural barrier par excellence where the defender least expected maneuver. There is also little evidence that preventive motive shaped Japan’s military strategy. Yamamoto preferred the maneuver strategy because of its own merits rather than out of his intent on war. The Combined Fleet commander confessed in October 1941 that his plan was “one conceived in desperation . . . from lack of confidence in a perfectly safe, properly ordered frontal attack”169 Masanori Ito, a prominent commentator on the Imperial Navy, also testified that “Admiral Yamamoto’s basic plan for an attack on Hawaii was not conceived with the idea of precipitating a war with the United States.”170 It is also noteworthy that Yamamoto first conceived his strategy in early 1940 when diplomacy still seemed to have a fair prospect and war did not appear imminent. Moreover, it was not the hawks but the soft-liner who proposed the maneuver strategy, despite the fact that the hard-liners had a much stronger motive for preventive war. The war party actually opposed adoption of the maneuver-oriented plan. Available historical evidence provides weak support for the claim that material weakness motivates the adoption of maneuver strategies. As shown above, Yamamoto devised the Pearl Harbor attack plan, believing that successful maneuver was the only way to defeat the overwhelming power of the United States. Many other naval planners, on the other hand, declined to accept his idea for a long time despite their shared perception of material disadvantages, although they changed their minds in the end.

Critique of an alternative explanation This section rebuts the claim that certain pathologies peculiar to Japanese politics, rather than military strategy, brought about the war in 1941. Scholars often argue that the root causes of the Pacific War can be found among the unique features of Imperial Japan.171 For a notable example, Jack Snyder argues that “domestic pathologies” such as “strategic myths” and “military cartels” misled Japan into a reckless war in 1941. He depicts the coming of the Pacific War as follows: When the war in China in the 1930s threatened to ruin Japan’s economy and stimulated the hostility of several great powers, the Japanese concluded that the solution was further expansion to cut off China’s sources of supply and conquer the resources needed to defend against the hostile encirclement. Finally, when the United States used an oil embargo to compel them to abandon this strategy, the Japanese again learned backward, concluding that the route to strategic solvency was not retrenchment but a preventive strike against an enemy whose war-making capacity was not vulnerable to

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Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War preemption. . . . The overexpansion of the late 1930s was due to logrolling between the army and navy elites and to blowback from their self-serving imperial ideologies.172

This is an inadequate explanation for the coming of the Pacific War. Japan was only able to make the decision for war in December 1941 because the logrolling of “powerful military cartels” had broken down by July. Prior to this time, the army and the navy had indeed maintained a mutually profitable logroll, “in which each of the participants prevailed on the one issue that matter most to that organization.”173 The army had pointed to the Soviet Union as Japan’s principal enemy and pursued continental expansion in Manchuria and northern China to cope with that threat.174 On the other hand, the navy regarded the United States as the gravest menace and supported cautious penetration into the oil-rich Southeast Asia. The two organizations had colluded to inscribe their wishes into national policy and to claim large portions of scarce materials including steel and oil. At the same time, the services competed for even greater allocation of materiel and budget.175 By the summer of 1941, a new consensus on strategic planning had replaced this old logroll of divergent interests.176 As the United States imposed an oil embargo in July, army officers came to realize that there would not be enough oil to fight with the Soviet Union.177 They also recognized that the war in Europe would keep Russia at bay for the time being, while making the oil-rich British and Dutch possessions vulnerable. In response to this altered strategic situation, the army abandoned its pet project of northern expansion and joined the navy in support of southward advance.178 The Imperial Conference of 2 July thus proclaimed that “Japan will adhere to the established policy of creating a Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere. . . . To attain this objective, we shall not hesitate to engage in war with Britain and the United States.”179 Such convergence of the services’ outlooks was a precondition for any decisive action, since consensus between the services was regarded crucial in the Japanese decision-making process.180 Japan also lacked enough power to launch large-scale military campaigns in both the north and the south. In sum, it was not logrolling but its dissolution that opened the road to the Pacific War. Snyder might retort that Imperial Japan already began to suffer “overextension” when its forces became bogged down in China in late 1938 and that logrolling caused this war and thus paved the way to the conflict with the United States in 1941. However, this argument has no empirical support: as Michael Barnhart notes, the full-scale “holy war” with China was not the result of logrolling but of a consensus among the army, the navy, and the government.181 There is another reason to question Snyder’s explanation for the Pacific War. Contrary to his claims, Tokyo’s decision for war in 1941 may have been a rational, if risky, response to strategic challenges and opportunities.182 A British civilian minister, who was not exposed to Japan’s “strategic myths,” subscribed to this point of view. Historian H.P. Willnott reports:

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In 1944, British Minister of Production Lyttleton, in a moment of rare candor, admitted that the Japanese had been provoked into attacking the Americans at Pearl Harbor. Lyttleton’s observation was based on his recognition that the economic pressure brought against Japan by the Allies left the Japanese with no option other than to fight, unless they were prepared to see their empire reduced to an Asiatic irrelevance at the beck and call of the Americans.183 John Emmerson, a diplomat assigned to the American embassy in Tokyo, also criticized Washington’s uncompromising position on China184: Japan’s leaders were ready to effect partial withdrawals from both Indochina and mainland China. They could not, however, accept the demand for a total evacuation from both countries, probably including Manchuria, that was contained in the note delivered to Ambassador Nomura on November 26 and that they regarded as an ultimatum. A nation that, although mired in fruitless combat, had not been defeated could not at once abandon an enterprise into which so many years of sacrifice had been expended. Americans were later in Vietnam to suffer at first hand the excruciating experience of withdrawing from a prolonged war. Moreover, the Japanese military – the epitome of irresponsibility according to Snyder – was not the only party that was disinclined for a total evacuation from China.185 Despite his great willingness for compromise, even Foreign Minister Togo had difficulty swallowing the American proposal on China.

Conclusion This case study accomplished several goals set at the beginning of this chapter. It showed that strategic theory can explain the outbreak of the Pacific War quite well. There is good empirical evidence that Japan’s maneuver strategy caused a strong motive for preventive war, military optimism, diplomatic failure, and ultimately the outbreak of war. Imperial Japan had a strong preventive motive because it was declining between 1933 and 1941 and feared losing its maneuver strategy. Tokyo first sought a negotiated settlement with Washington in order to mitigate its power decline. However, diplomatic efforts did not prove fruitful, as the United States imposed harsh conditions on Japan and Tokyo was confident enough to reject them. The deadlock came about in part because Yamamoto’s maneuver strategy ironically imbued both countries with military confidence. With diplomacy hopeless, Japanese leaders decided to launch a preventive attack anticipating that its maneuver strategy could produce a quick and decisive victory. This case study also confirmed that my strategic theory performs better against the historical record than its competitors. I also showed that the concepts of maneuver and attrition are useful in analyzing naval warfare. This is an important finding that opens up a new avenue for further research.

6

Conclusion

In the preceding three chapters, I investigated major cases of power shifts to find the best explanation of why power shifts lead to war in some cases but not in others. This chapter presents a final assessment of empirical support the case studies provide for each competing theory as well as hypotheses on sources of military strategy. The results are clear that strategic theory outperforms its competitors by significant margins and that the qualities of military leadership largely determine the types of strategy. I then survey the case universe of 14 power shifts to demonstrate that my argument has broad applicability to a diverse set of cases. I then discuss the theoretical implications of my findings, explaining why international and domestic political institutions can hold only limited effects on the political outcomes of power shifts. In an attempt to draw practical implications, I also address important issues concerning the rise of China and its impact on US–China relations. Contrary to numerous observers, I argue that the resurgent China will pursue a cautious, peaceful foreign policy for years to come. Therefore, the chance of war will depend crucially on the policies of the United States, which will act with increasing aggressiveness as China continues to rise in power. I finally apply strategic theory to illuminating US policies toward the three nuclear aspirants: North Korea, Iran, and Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. The central argument here is that the Bush administration possessed a maneuver strategy against Iraq and therefore fought a preventive war; however, it only had attrition strategies against North Korea and Iran and therefore abstained from use of force.

Power shifts and wars Strategic theory can explain all the three cases of power shifts analyzed in the preceding chapters quite well as Table 6.1 shows. It always makes correct predictions on motive for war and military and diplomatic opportunities, although it is sometimes difficult to find direct evidence of causation. In addition, the theory outperforms each of the contending theories in explaining the three conditions for war. The theory offers a satisfactory account of declining states’ motive for preventive war. Each declining state had a strong preventive motive when it

Motive for war

Strong performance Mixed performance Weak performance Weak performance

Theory

Strategic theory Offense–defense theory Dynamic differentials theory Power transition theory

Table 6.1 Scorecard for theories of power shifts and war

Strong performance Mixed performance Strong performance Weak performance

Opportunity for war Mixed performance Weak performance Weak performance Weak performance

Opportunity for diplomacy

Strong performance Weak performance Mixed performance Weak performance

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Conclusion

possessed a maneuver strategy. In the German and Japanese cases, I found direct evidence that the declining states feared losing their maneuver strategies and thus considered preventive war seriously. In contrast, the Russian case demonstrates that the decliner had an attrition strategy and a modest motive for preventive war. In this case, however, no direct evidence of causation can be found although the predicted correlation is observed. Strategic theory also well explains the military opportunity for preventive war. The attrition strategy imbued the declining Russians with military pessimism throughout the 1870–90 period, as the theory predicts. There is also direct evidence that the maneuver-oriented Schlieffen Plan was responsible for Germany’s military optimism in 1914. The causal relationship is less clear between Imperial Japan’s military confidence and its maneuver strategy. Whereas many naval officers viewed the maneuver strategy as a precondition for victory over the United States, hard-liners in the army and the navy were confident regardless of the type of strategy. Strategic theory also demonstrates positive, if somewhat less clear, support when explaining the opportunity for diplomacy. The German case provides strong support for the theory. In 1914, the Schlieffen Plan gave the Germans military confidence thereby inflating their demands for compensation. The maneuver-centered German plan also imbued Russia and France with military optimism and led to their rejection of Berlin’s proposed terms of settlement. In comparison, the other cases provide only mixed support. There is direct evidence that Russia’s attrition strategy caused its military pessimism and circumspection, which in turn made the rapprochement between 1870 and 1890 possible. On the other hand, while a correlation can be observed between its straightforward strategy and the corresponding low level of miscalculation, the causal link between the two is less evident. Evidence is also mixed in the Japanese case. Whereas Japan’s maneuver strategy indeed misled the United States to be overconfident and uncompromising, there is little direct evidence that the strategy increased Japan’s demands for compensation. Offense–defense theory performs poorly in explaining the conditions for war. It does not offer a satisfactory explanation for any of the intervening phenomena as Table 6.1 shows. This poor performance casts serious doubt on the theory’s explanatory power. Offense–defense theory shows mixed overall performance in accounting for preventive motive. Despite its proponents’ claim that the “cult of the offensive” misled the Germans to exaggerate the strategic consequences of power decline in the run-up to war in 1914, the evidence suggests that their strong motive for preventive war had a strong strategic basis. The Japanese case alone shows that offense–defense balance shaped naval planners’ preventive motives significantly. The theory also does not adequately explain decliners’ opportunity for war. Although its proponents assert that Imperial Germany misperceived offensedominance in 1914, there is evidence that its military planners in fact recognized some defensive advantages and conducted their strategic planning accordingly.

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The theory also cannot account for the fact that Japanese naval planners anticipated the success of offensive operations at the outset of war despite their belief in defensive advantage. In the Russian case alone, I found strong evidence that faith in defense bred military pessimism. In addition, offense–defense theory performs poorly in explaining diplomatic opportunity for decliners. There is little evidence that first-mover incentives and time constraints posed insurmountable obstacles to diplomatic settlements. The declining states and their rising rivals always managed to figure out each other’s terms of settlement accurately in time. Nor did mistrust determine the fate of diplomacy. Although complete trust in one another never existed, all the decliners made sincere efforts to reach a diplomatic settlement before deciding for war. The Russians even successfully concluded durable agreements with the Germans despite mutual mistrust between 1870 and 1890. Dynamic differentials theory does not explain the central conditions for preventive war adequately, although it performs slightly better than offense– defense theory overall. Dynamic differentials theory fails to offer a cogent explanation for preventive motive. In particular, the theory cannot explain preventive motive in a multipolar system. For instance, the evidence shows that the Germans had a strong fear of their future vulnerability in 1914, even though they would remain more than a match for the Russians in terms of the bilateral military balance for the foreseeable future. Nor can the theory account for the fact that Russia had only a moderate motive for preventive action against a Bismarckian Germany that was on its way toward military preponderance. The theory, however, fares better in explaining Japan’s strong preventive motive in a quasi-bipolar international setting. In contrast, dynamic differentials theory performs reasonably well in explaining the opportunity for war. There is strong evidence that the balance of power shaped the declining states’ military confidence significantly in both the Russian and the Japanese cases. St. Petersburg was pessimistic about its military prospects in part due to its inferior strategic railways and mobilization capacity. The evidence also shows that the combination of temporary military advantage and a quasi-bipolar environment provided Tokyo with confidence in its military capability. In spite of the mixed evidence in the German case, strong empirical support overall indicates that military power is indeed a key ingredient of military capability. Dynamic differentials theory, however, accounts for diplomatic opportunity poorly. Contrary to its predictions, Russia, Germany, and Japan all made sincere efforts for diplomatic settlements until the last possible moment. These declining states manipulated negotiations to hide their aggressive intentions only after contradictory terms had made peaceful settlements impossible. This finding suggests that fear of being cheated is not an insurmountable obstacle to diplomatic settlement. Power transition theory takes last place among the contending theories in terms of performance. It does not adequately account for the motive for war

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in any of the examined cases. A substantial body of evidence reveals that Germany and Japan did not go to war in 1914 and 1941, respectively, for the primary purpose of establishing a new international order as the theory posits. Rather, fear of decline vis-à-vis their rivals was their principal motive for war. Also, Germany – despite its alleged dissatisfaction with the status quo – did not consider a war against Russia seriously between 1870 and 1890. The theory also fails to explain the opportunity for war. It offers no plausible account for why Japan was confident enough to attack the United States despite the unmistakable power imbalance. And there is no evidence indicating that Germany gained significant confidence from its newly acquired power advantage over Britain on the eve of World War I. The historical research shows that the distribution of aggregate power was in fact a major source of concern for the Germans. The fact that German leaders such as Bismarck did not feel confident about a war with Russia despite a power transition also contradicts the theory’s prediction. Finally, power transition theory is unable to account for diplomatic opportunities. It cannot explain why Germany and Japan failed to reach diplomatic settlements with their adversaries in 1914 and 1941, respectively. Nor can it account for the negotiated peace between Germany and Russia during the period 1870–90.

Sources of military strategy The historical research confirms my argument that creating a maneuver strategy requires superior strategic knowledge, which depends crucially on the intelligence capability and acumen of military leadership. Germany and Japan could employ maneuver strategies because their military leaders – most notably, Alfred von Schlieffen and Isoroku Yamamoto – had access to accurate information on the adversary’s war plan and the ability to identify its vulnerable points. They were also capable of devising ways to exploit the weaknesses and hiding their own strategic intention to do so. On the other hand, Russia had no comparable military leadership between 1870 and 1890, so an attrition strategy was the sole available option. The defeats of Germany and Japan in World War I and World War II, respectively, do not undermine the conclusion that their military leaders had good intelligence capability and strategy acumen. Military leadership (and strategy) is not the sole determinant of war outcome, although it is an important factor. Numerous other elements including material resources, technology, geography, and luck also affect the course of war. Therefore, a lost war does not necessarily mean a flawed military leadership. It was not German and Japanese planners such as Schlieffen and Yamamoto (and their maneuver strategies), respectively, who were responsible for the ultimate defeats of their countries. Competent analyses have concluded that the allied nations won the world wars mainly because of their overwhelming material superiority.1 In fact, these strategists (and their clever operational plans) compensated – significantly but

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insufficiently – for considerable disadvantages in force, wealth, population, alliance, and so on. Without their competent military leadership, Germany and Japan would have suffered even more devastating defeats. In other words, their superb leadership meant that Germany and Japan fought much better than they would otherwise have done. The decision to assassinate Yamamoto in 1943 despite moral objections is but one example indicating that allied leaders understood this fact. There is only mixed evidence that perception of power balance shapes military strategy. The German general staff committed itself to the Schlieffen Plan, believing that an attrition campaign against its numerically superior foes was unwise. Yamamoto and his followers also developed a maneuver-centered strategy, in important part because they understood that it was extremely difficult to defeat the materially superior United States in an attrition war. On the other hand, the Russians did the opposite: they adopted an attrition strategy against the German foe that they regarded as stronger, while adopting a maneuver strategy against the weaker Austro-Hungarians. Available evidence also reveals that military strategy does not merely reflect the offense–defense balance. Germany and Japan did not adopt maneuver strategies because they faced an offense-dominant environment or perceived a significant offensive advantage. In fact, their maneuver-centered plans aimed to exploit some alleged defense-enhancing factors such as buffer states, natural barriers, and firepower. Russian planners agreed to adopt an attrition strategy despite their divergent perceptions of the offense–defense balance, and this fact indicates that the (perceived) offense–defense balance was not a key determinant of the Russian war plan. There is also little evidence that military strategy is a simple function of political will. Strong preventive motive did not always lead to the possession of maneuver strategies. Although military planners in Russia, Germany, and Japan harbored strong preventive motives, the Russian army failed to develop a maneuver strategy. Also, the conception of German and Japanese maneuver strategies predated their motive for preventive war.

Historical patterns This section surveys the entire case universe of power shifts thereby comparing my theory with its competitors in terms of generalizability. The analysis shows that my theory explains a larger portion of the universe than the alternatives. I substantiate three of its key propositions as well: 1 2 3

fear of decline is the prime motive for war created by power shifts; military strategy is not simply a reflection of material conditions or political will; preventive war is not always an irrational instrument of statecraft.

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Method and data In order to probe the generalizability of the competing theories, I have chosen to employ the “congruence” method that examines bivariate correlations between the explanatory and dependent variables.2 Each theory makes predictions about (1) the occurrence of war and (2) the identity of the war initiator. Only if a theory predicts both correctly, will I declare that it can explain the given case. The performance of a theory is measured by looking at the numbers of explained cases and confirmed hypotheses. I then compare these indicators of performance with those of other competing theories. The final rank indicates a theory’s explanatory power relative to that of its competitors. The congruence procedure may not be the best method for testing theories since it does not control for confounding factors. Nevertheless, the method allows for a plausibility probe of the theories and is suitable for analysis of the small number of cases. The data include 14 dyads among great powers in which the weaker state experienced no less than 20 percent change in gross domestic product (GDP) relative to its stronger rival for a decade or so. Table 6.2 summarizes the data. In the Appendix, I will describe the indicators and sources used for coding the variables and present further details of codings for each case.

Results Strategic theory of preventive war The data clearly support one of the main hypotheses of strategic theory while weakly disconfirming the other: • •

H1: If the declining state has a maneuver strategy, it will initiate war. H2: If the declining state has an attrition strategy, power shifts will pass peacefully.

Declining states initiated wars each time they had maneuver strategies as shown in Table 6.2. Therefore, it seems to be the case that maneuver strategies induce declining states to launch preventive wars (H1). However, the data disconfirm (albeit weakly) the hypothesis that power shifts rarely lead to war when decliners have attrition strategies (H2). Power shifts passed peacefully in only four out of nine cases in which declining states had attrition strategies. Despite this mixed result, strategic theory has greater explanatory power than any of its competitors. As shown in Table 6.3, it outperforms the runner-up (offense–defense theory) by a margin of four cases. Dynamic differentials theory and power transition theory explain less than one-half the cases that strategic theory accounts for. These findings are not contingent upon my coding rules. In the Appendix, I assess each theory’s performance by using the alternative codings and find that the numbers of correct predictions do not vary widely depending on coding rules.

Maneuver Maneuver Maneuver Maneuver Maneuver Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition

France–Germany 1860–70 Japan–Russia 1880–1904 Germany–Russia 1890–1914 Germany–Soviet Union 1925–41 Japan–United States 1933–41 Britain–United States 1860–1914 Russia–Germany 1870–90 Austria–Russia 1890–1914 France–Germany 1880–1914 Britain–Germany 1890–1914 France–Germany 1929–39 Britain–Germany 1925–39 United States–Soviet Union 1946–61 Soviet Union–United States 1970–85

Note Declining states are listed first, rising states second.

Decliner’s strategy

Casesa

Table 6.2 A description of case universe

Defense Defense Defense Offense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense Defense

Side favored by offense– defense balance Yes No Yes Yes No No Yes No No No No No Yes Yes

Did the decliner have marked military superiority? Yes No Yes No No Yes Yes No No Yes No Yes No No

Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes No No Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes No No

Did power Did war occur transition occur? during the Or did power period? parity exist?

Declining state Declining state Declining state Declining state Declining state – – Declining state Rising state Rising state Rising state Rising state – –

Which side initiated war?

Explained Explained Explained Explained Explained Explained Explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Explained Explained 9

France–Germany 1860–70 Japan–Russia 1880–1904 Germany–Russia 1890–1914 Germany–Soviet Union 1925–41 Japan–United States 1933–41 Britain–United States 1860–1914 Russia–Germany 1870–90 Austria–Russia 1890–1914 France–Germany 1880–1914 Britain–Germany 1890–1914 France–Germany 1929–39 Britain–Germany 1925–39 United States–Soviet Union 1946–61 Soviet Union–United States 1970–85 Total number of explained cases

Note The total number of predictions is 14 for each theory.

Strategic theory

Cases

Table 6.3 Performance of theories

Not explained Not explained Not explained Explained Not explained Explained Explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Explained Explained 5

Offense–defense theory Explained Not explained Explained Explained Not explained Explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained 4

Dynamic differentials theory

Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Not explained Explained Not explained Explained Explained Explained 4

Power transition theory

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The data further support strategic theory’s key proposition: military strategy is not a simple function of material conditions or political will but is indeed an independent variable. There is no evidence that strategy type merely reflects the offense–defense balance. The decliner had a maneuver strategy in the only case in which an offensive advantage existed. Among the 13 cases of defensive advantage, I found 9 occasions in which an attrition strategy was adopted. This prevalence may imply that the offense–defense balance has some systematic influence on military strategy. However, it is clear that strategy type cannot be simply reduced to this balance, given that a majority of maneuver strategies are observed in the defense-dominant environment. Nor does military balance shapes military strategy as commonly posited. Declining states adopted attrition strategies in three out of six cases in which they enjoyed marked military superiority; this result calls into question the assertion that stronger states prefer an attrition strategy because material strength is their comparative advantage.3 In addition, attrition strategies were adopted in six out of eight cases where such superiority was lacking; this refutes the popular claim that materially weaker states tend to adopt a maneuver strategy since they cannot expect to win a long war of attrition. To say the least, it is difficult to argue that strategy is a mere reflection of power. Nor can military strategy be reduced to political will. If states that intend to fight preventive wars could always find a way to create maneuver strategies, then Austria-Hungary would not have gone to war with an offensive attrition strategy in 1914.4 The data also support two additional propositions that strategic theory shares with the other two theories of preventive war. First, the research finds that declining states hold the key to whether power shifts result in war or pass quietly. The data show that declining states initiate wars more often than rising states do in the presence of power shifts. As shown in Table 6.2, power shifts led to war in 10 out of 14 cases, while declining states initiated 6 out of those 10 wars. Second, the data imply that preventive war – especially when fought with a maneuver strategy – is a rational, if risky, instrument of statecraft. According to one study, initiators won 25 percent of all major-power wars in the last two centuries.5 In comparison, the data show that the initiators of preventive wars possessing maneuver strategies had a 20 percent chance of victory. This relatively low rate of success implies that preventive war involves particularly high risks. This discrepancy in success rates, however, does not mean that preventive war is too risky to be a reasonable statecraft. In general, most war initiators have an important advantage over their passive targets: they can pick a fight with the easiest prey under the most favorable circumstances.6 The initiators of preventive wars, however, cannot exploit such an advantage to the fullest extent because power decline in part pressures them to fight. They seldom have the luxury of time to wait for the best moment of attack. They also fight with an adversary who is more successful in creating wealth and military might. Therefore, the success rate of preventive war is expected to be lower than that of ordinary predatory aggressions. The Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05 reveals

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that even a preventive war under adverse material circumstance can be rational when an effective maneuver strategy is available. In this sole unambiguous case of victorious preventive war, Japan employed a maneuver strategy thereby overcoming a defense-favoring environment and military inferiority. However, preventive war seems to be a bad idea when a maneuver strategy is absent: no declining states prevailed without one. Alternative theories Offense–defense theory makes correct predictions in 5 out of 14 cases; one of its two hypotheses listed below is supported. This result makes it the second bestperforming theory. • •

H3: If the offense–defense balance favors the offense, the declining state will initiate war. H4: If offense–defense balance favors defense, power shifts will not lead to war.

In the only case of offense-dominance considered in this study, the declining state initiated war. This finding weakly confirms the claim that offensive advantage encourages declining states to fight preventive wars (H3). However, the evidence does not support the claim that defense-dominance leads to peaceful power shifts (H4). Wars occurred on 9 out of 13 occasions when the offense–defense balance favored defenders. Dynamic differentials theory correctly predicts the outcomes of only 4 out of 14 power shifts. The data merely confirm one of its three tested hypotheses listed below: • • •

H5: In multipolarity, if the declining state has marked military superiority, it will initiate war. H6: In multipolarity, if the declining state lacks military superiority, power shifts will pass peacefully. H7: In bipolarity, if the declining state has roughly equal or greater military power, it will initiate war.

The case universe contains only two cases of power shifts occurring in a bipolar world (US decline vis-à-vis the Soviet Union between 1946 and 1961 and the Soviet Union decline vis-à-vis the United States between 1970 and 1985). In these cases of bipolarity, the declining states had superior military power but did not initiate war. This fact disconfirms the hypothesis that declining states with equal or greater power will fight preventive wars in a bipolar world (H7). Among the 12 cases of multipolarity, decliners had marked military superiority on 4 occasions; they initiated preventive wars in three out of these four cases. This finding confirms the claim that militarily superior decliners attack risers in a multipolar world (H5). Meanwhile, power shifts passed peacefully in only one

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out of eight occasions in which declining states did not possess military superiority. This finding disconfirms the hypothesis that power shifts will not lead to war in situations of multipolarity when decliners have no marked military superiority (H6). Power transition theory makes correct predictions in just 4 out of 14 cases and is the worst-performing theory. The data confirm none of the following hypotheses: • •

H8: If the rising state catches up with or surpasses the declining state, it will initiate war. H9: If the rising state has either preponderant or markedly inferior power, power shifts will pass peacefully.

Under the condition of marked power imbalance, power shifts passed without war in only two out of eight cases. This fact disconfirms the hypothesis that power shifts will not lead to war when rising states are either markedly inferior or preponderant (H9). Risers started wars in only two out of six cases in which they reached parity with or surpassed its opponent. Therefore, the claim that rising states initiate wars when the power balance is roughly equal is not borne out (H8). So far, I have evaluated the generalizability of the competing theories. The analysis reveals that strategic theory explains a large portion of the case universe, while its alternatives account for the outcomes in less than one-half of the cases. This result seems to confirm the superior explanatory power of my argument. Power transition theory finds the weakest empirical support not only from the three in-depth case studies but also from analysis of the case universe. Offense–defense theory and dynamic differentials theory fare slightly better because they correctly view decliners as potential aggressors.7 I also found empirical support for three key propositions: 1 2 3

military strategy does not simply reflect material conditions or political motive; fear of decline is the primary motive for war that power shifts create; preventive war is a rational if risky instrument of statecraft when a maneuver strategy is available.

Theoretical implications The findings of this study shed light on some important debates in international relations theory. The research on diplomatic opportunity helps us better understand the subject of international cooperation. The relevant literature identifies at least three significant obstacles to negotiated settlements of inter-state disputes. According to international relations scholars, “states’ inability to trust each other to keep a bargain” is one of the most intractable obstacles to international cooperation.8

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A first-mover incentive and resultant time constraints are also often believed to pose problems in crisis bargaining.9 Diplomacy often fails due to military optimism on both sides as well.10 The case studies conducted in this study provided a good opportunity to evaluate each of these popular claims. Diplomatic settlements were indeed difficult to achieve when the adversaries were confident of their military capabilities. On the other hand, lack of trust and time constraints rarely determined the fate of diplomacy. This finding offers valuable guidance for reorienting the study of international cooperation into a more profitable avenue. This study also reconfirms the limited effectiveness of international institutions in facilitating diplomacy and preventing war.11 This study has shown that diplomacy is likely to fail when declining states have a maneuver strategy. The deceptive strategy leads risers to underestimate decliners’ military capability and thus to offer insufficient compensation. That said, an international organization can facilitate peaceful power shifts only to the extent that one is willing and able to measure decliners’ military capability accurately thereby helping risers to offer adequate concessions.12 Unfortunately, it is unlikely that international organizations can carry out these tasks. For an accurate assessment of military capability, an international organization needs to have expertise on military affairs and access to all relevant military information including the specific content of each maneuver strategy. However, declining states are unlikely to provide the organization with top military secrets. There are several reasons for this. Decliners might fear that the arbitrator will divulge confidential military information. Even if the organization is an impartial arbitrator, the submitted secrets can be stolen or lost by accident. In such cases, the rising state may be able to devise a counter-maneuver strategy thereby defeating the declining rival with ease in the event of war. The rising state also has its own reasons to doubt the arbitration efforts offered by international organizations. For the sake of confidentiality, the rising state needs to be excluded from the process of fact finding and deliberation. Therefore, the riser will be afraid that the arbitrator favors the opponent or will make a mistake in its strategic assessments of military capability. This study also calls into question some alleged strategic effects of democratic political institutions. Randall Schweller argues that democracies rarely wage a preventive war.13 Our research ostensibly supports this claim, reporting that preventive war occurred in none of the cases where the democratic Britain, France, and United States were on the decline. However, these democracies possessed an attrition strategy in each of these cases as well. Therefore, there is a distinct possibility that the observed negative correlation between democracy and the instances of preventive war is spurious. Our finding also challenges the claim that democratic states are more likely to adopt maneuver strategies than authoritarian states. According to Dan Reiter and Curtis Meek, “Democratic leaders place a higher value on keeping wars short and bloodless and on winning them than do authoritarian leaders . . . [and] are more likely to be willing to grant battlefield authority to their commanders.”14 Therefore, democracies should be

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more likely to adopt maneuver strategies. Contrary to this assertion, this study showed that while no democracy elected to adopt a maneuver strategy, five out of eight authoritarian decliners had maneuver strategies.

Contemporary shifts in power At the beginning of this book, I defined the practical goal of this study as illuminating political consequences of contemporary changes in the balance of power. In this section, I will try to offer some insights on US relations with the resurgent China and emerging nuclear powers by drawing upon the findings of my research. The rise of China My research implies that the rising China will act like a status quo state for years to come. Rising great powers rarely initiated military conflicts with their declining competitors since they had much to gain by waiting patiently. For the same reason, China will likely pursue a cautious foreign policy insofar as its power continues to grow. China’s current foreign policy confirms this prediction. President Hu Jintao’s leadership has recognized the benefits of patience and adopted a strategy of “peaceful rise,” thus making extensive efforts to reassure Washington and other regional capitals of its benign intentions.15 For instance, China has cooperated in peacefully resolving border disputes with its neighbors and actively participated in an increasing number of international institutions.16 Most importantly, China has accepted the de facto separation of Taiwan for the moment and abstained from forceful actions toward reunification. Such moderation seems to reflect China’s appreciation of the strong strategic incentive to accumulate wealth first while dealing with Taiwan in a later opportune time. This means that it is largely irrelevant whether China is a status quo or revisionist state. The character of the Chinese state has been a salient issue preoccupying the current debate over political implications of its rise in power.17 On the one hand, pessimists argue that China is revisionist and bound to challenge the extant international order with its newly acquired power; in the end, “China would be tempted to establish a regional hegemony, possibly by force.”18 On the other hand, optimists argue that China is a status quo state or becoming one through constructive engagement with the international society and therefore will not act aggressively.19 This book, however, shows that both sides are mistaken to believe that China’s national character is of critical importance: what mainly drives its foreign policy is in fact the trajectory of its power growth. China will adjust its goals and actions according to its power position largely regardless of its true identity – if such a thing ever exists. China will switch to an aggressive foreign policy when its power position begins to erode. If Chinese leaders view that time ceases to be on their side for some reasons such as economic slowdown, then they will apply its hitherto acquired power to consolidating its strategic interests or mitigating its power

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decline thereby possibly setting off dangerous confrontations with the United States. This scenario can materialize while China continues to grow in absolute terms or even relative to the United States. Imperial Germany grew more rapidly than nearly all European great powers including Britain over the two decades prior to World War I. Still, the Germans initiated the major war in 1914 as their power position deteriorated vis-à-vis the Russians. Similarly, it is possible that a rising China will nonetheless risk a war with the United States and its allies, fearing the strategic consequences of its power decline relative to a key regional rival such as Taiwan or potentially India. In the event that Taiwan revitalizes its economy and gets ahead of China in the cross-strait arms race, Beijing might resort to forceful measures or even a preventive war in fear of permanently losing an opportunity to achieve reunification. Any such moves will have the potential to provoke US armed intervention on behalf of Taiwan. For another hypothetical example, if India threatens to rise above China in industrial and military might and a strategic rivalry emerges, Beijing might adopt an aggressive policy in order to stop the adversary’s ascendance, possibly colliding with the United States as well in the process. My findings lead to another prediction that the United States will act aggressively as China’s power continues to increase. History tells us that great powers rarely embraced their decline with equanimity; power shifts usually brought about heated security competition marked by sporadic acute crises. Similarly, the United States will likely pressure China to make compensations whether they mean more favorable commercial treaties or arms limitations agreements; Washington may use even threat of force in an attempt to reinforce its power position. This prediction should come as no surprise: the United States employed coercive measures to stop its declines in the past. During the early Cold War, American leaders, perceiving declines relative to the Soviet Union, frequently resorted to nuclear blackmail in order to acquire strategic concessions. Many even went so far as to seriously consider a preventive attack against the Soviet Union and later against the emerging Chinese nuclear arsenal.20 Washington then pressured Tokyo to adopt palatable commercial policies and open its domestic market for the purpose of reducing trade deficits and reversing industrial stagnation during the 1980s and early 1990s. Various signs suggest that US–China policy will follow this historical pattern in the near future. Many US politicians and citizens express their increasing uneasiness about the burgeoning trade deficit vis-à-vis China and demand the revaluation of its currency (Yuan) and the restriction of technology transfer to that country. They also view China’s military procurement and modernization with increasing suspicion and fear. For example, the US government has made efforts to thwart foreign sales of advanced weapons to China, officially bowing to insure that “our forces will be strong enough to dissuade potential adversaries from pursuing a military build-up in hopes of surpassing, or equaling, the power of the United States.”21 The likelihood that such concerns will lead to a major war is hard to assess with a high degree of confidence, since US military strategy against China is probably still in development and the characteristics of any authorized war plan

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will be largely unknown to the public. However, it is a grave mistake to rule out the possibility of such a war altogether: my research suggests that the United States has a fair chance of creating a viable maneuver strategy. The US military seems to have far superior intelligence capacity compared with its Chinese counterpart particularly due to its marked advantages in high-tech sensors including spy satellite and data-processing capabilities, which combine to help identify the adversary’s weaknesses and discern its strategic intention. On the other hand, China’s deficiencies in these aspects present the American planners with an opportunity to hide their intention and capability. It also seems that the US military may possess strategic acumen required for planning successful maneuver. The United States has arguably the best military and civilian educational institutions and conducts military operations and exercises most frequently. Also, the US military has strong commitments to meritocracy and free exchange of ideas, further increasing the chance that it outsmarts its Chinese counterpart and finds ingenious ways to maneuver. The possession of these qualities, however, does not guarantee that the United States will be able to create an effective maneuver strategy against China. The fact that a vast majority of declining states adopted an attrition strategy reveals that creating an effective maneuver strategy is a highly challenging task (Table 6.2). Doing so against a nuclear-armed foe must be extremely difficult: no decliners were ever successful in this regard. Although some analysts argue that the United States currently possesses a first-strike capability against the Chinese nuclear force, no credible analysis shows that a successful nuclear decapitation (i.e., nuclear maneuver) is within Washington’s reach.22 Emergent nuclear powers The United States officially adopted a doctrine of preventive war in response to the terrorist attacks of September 2001 and the growing danger of nuclear proliferation.23 The 2002 National Security Strategy of the United States explicitly states that the United States “must be prepared to stop rogue states and their terrorist clients before they are able to threaten or use weapons of mass destruction . . . [and] America will act against such emerging threats before they are fully formed.”24 The US government justified its increased emphasis on preventive actions on the ground that “containment is not possible when unbalanced dictators with weapons of mass destruction can deliver those weapons on missiles or secretly provide them to terrorist allies.”25 Iraq, North Korea, and Iran presented prime targets for this new doctrine. These states were members of what President George W. Bush called an “axis of evil.” Washington believed that if either country that committed terrorist acts in the past has a nuclear arsenal, then it might blackmail or attack the United States and its allies. Washington was also afraid that Pyongyang, Baghdad, and Teheran might transfer their nuclear technology and materials to terrorists and other rogue states for financial and political reasons. Despite its apparently universalistic doctrine and equivalent concerns, however, the Bush administration chose to fight a preventive war

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against Iraq while attempting to disarm North Korea and Iran with diplomatic means. Here, I explain these contrasting policies by applying my theory of preventive war. I argue that the United States did not attack North Korea mainly because only attrition strategies were available. On the one hand, despite all its material advantages, the United States could not be confident that an attritional campaign would defeat North Korea with acceptable casualties and expenses, even if North Korea had no nuclear weapons. On the other hand, if North Korea developed a modest nuclear arsenal, that development would still not allow that country to win a war of attrition against the United States. Whatever the case, the United States did not have a particularly strong motive for preventive war because it was neither fretting about a dissipating opportunity against North Korea nor fearful of emerging vulnerabilities vis-à-vis that country. Moreover, since both the United States and North Korea were unable to escape from a war of attrition, the balance of military capabilities closely reflected that of material power, and there was little chance of strength miscalculations; both parties could thus avoid taking overly provocative measures. Similarly, the United States had no viable maneuver strategies against Iran and therefore a preventive war was not forthcoming. In contrast, the Bush administration decided to invade Iraq, in important part because it possessed a maneuver strategy against that country and therefore was confident of defeating Iraq swiftly at a low cost. However, the United States calculated that this favorable opportunity would dissipate as Saddam Hussein acquired nuclear weapons. Consequently, Washington saw a strong incentive to act quickly. Iraq The Iraqi nuclear program started in the 1950s with a Soviet-made research reactor.26 Iraq signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty in 1969 but continued to purchase technology and equipment necessary for nuclear-weapons production. The surge in oil revenues noticeably boosted its nuclear program in the 1970s. The alarmed international community took precautionary actions to deny Iraq a nuclear capability: the United States and other suppliers imposed a de facto embargo, while Israel bombed a near-operational reactor at Osiraq in 1981. In spite of these obstacles, Iraq continued its effort to construct a uranium enrichment plant of little immediate civilian use and made some limited progress toward that end. Its deteriorating position in the war with Iran further motivated its desperate pursuit of an atomic bomb throughout the 1980s, and looming conflict with the United States over Kuwait prompted a crash program in August 1990. In the wake of Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, the United States was determined to dismantle the nuclear program completely thereby eliminating potential threat to regional stability. Air strikes during the 1991 Gulf War and subsequent United Nations inspections set back Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and

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missile capabilities substantially. The US intelligence community concluded that most of Iraq’s WMD and missile capabilities were destroyed as the result of these efforts.27 To curb Saddam Hussein’s nuclear ambition, the United States pursued a policy of containment on the one hand: sanctions and inspections were imposed to prevent the reconstitution of WMD programs. On the other hand, Washington sought to remove the Iraqi regime with limited means such as taking covert actions and supporting the anti-Saddam opposition, for instance, through the enforcement of the no-fly zones over the Shiite and Kurdish provinces. However, containing Saddam proved to be a frustrating task. He continually attempted to undermine inspections and sanctions. For example, Iraq smuggled out oil and purchased dual-use technologies. Saddam also played catand-mouse games and eventually forced inspectors out in December 1998. The Clinton administration punished such Iraqi defiance with a modest four-day air campaign named Operation Desert Fox. The terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001 radically changed the tone of US policy toward Iraq. After overthrowing the Taliban regime in Afghanistan harboring al-Qaeda, the Bush administration aggressively pushed for disarmament of Iraq. Its primary rationale was the unsubstantiated threat of terrorist attacks using the Iraq-transferred WMD.28 President Bush claimed: “using chemical, biological, or, one day, nuclear weapons, obtained with the help of Iraq, the terrorists could fulfill their stated ambitions and kill thousands or hundreds of thousands of innocent people in our country or any other.”29 Backed by this renewed American vigor, the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1441 demanding that Iraq provide a “currently accurate, full, and complete declaration” of all WMD-related activities and facilities and fully cooperate with the weapons inspections.30 Further defiance on the Iraqi part would lead to “serious consequences.” Although such pressure succeeded in putting inspectors back, Iraq failed to comply with the UN resolution to Washington’s full satisfaction. Consequently, the United States started war on 19 March 2003 as its 48-hour ultimatum expired unanswered. The United States possessed an effective maneuver strategy against Iraq, which was named Operational Plan 1003 V and executed in Operation Iraqi Freedom.31 This war plan of the Central Command (CENTCOM) intended to bypass enemy strong points in urban areas and quickly reach the capital city of Baghdad. After crossing the Kuwait–Iraq border, the main army units would march through the desert west of the Euphrates, thereby evading the Iraqi forward defense on the opposite side of the river. A massive air campaign would commence at the initiation of ground offensive with an aim to decapitate the Iraqi leadership as well as to support ground combat. The spearheading Third Division would just cordon off towns and cities along the way in order to maximize operational tempo until airborne reserve troops captured them. The army would then set up a forward supply base near Karbala – the gate of Baghdad – and prepare for a final assault into the lair of the Baathist party. In the meantime, the marines would cross the Euphrates at An Nasiriyah and launch a twopronged offensive into central Iraq: one along Route 1 toward Ad Diwaniyah

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and the other along Route 7 toward Al Kut. This marine right wing aimed to lure and pin down the Iraqi forces, so the Third Division would be able to penetrate the narrow gap between Karbala and Lake Razzazah.32 The marines would then maneuver across the Tigris River through An Numaniyah and attack Baghdad from the east, while the army delivered a decisive blow in the west. These deceptive pincer movements would capture Baghdad thereby causing the collapse of the Iraqi regime. The possession of a viable maneuver strategy gave Washington essential confidence in an affordable victory against Iraq and thereby contributed to its decision for war significantly. On 21 November 2001, President Bush asked Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld: “What kind of a war plan do you have for Iraq? How do you feel about the war plan for Iraq?” The fact that these were among the very first questions the President asked considering a preventive war against Iraq indicates that military strategy was an important consideration in decision-making.33 The president later recalled: “A president cannot decide and make rational decisions unless I understand the feasibility of that which may have to happen.”34 As a matter of fact, an effective strategy was a necessary condition for war. He told the cabinet on 31 July 2002: “I believe there is casus belli and that the doctrine of preemption applies. We won’t do anything militarily unless confident we can succeed.”35 The maneuver-oriented Operational Plan 1003 provided this much needed confidence. Top military officials estimated in early March 2003 that Iraq would be conquered in 7–30 days.36 Although the president did not know about these estimates, he suspected on his own that war would be over in weeks, not months, after numerous briefings on war plan. In terms of human costs, Commander of the CENTCOM Tommy Franks anticipated between several hundreds and one thousand casualties on the US side. As such, essential military optimism was prevalent on the eve of war. Such confidence added a time pressure to US effort to prevent Iraqi nuclear armament: a modest nuclear arsenal in Saddam’s hands would make a future US invasion too difficult and risky. Given the 300-mile distance from the Kuwait border to Baghdad, the invading US forces would need a forward resupply base deep inside the Iraqi territory prior to final assaults against the fortified city. The advanced base itself and a large concentration of forces deployed around it would be highly vulnerable to Saddam’s nuclear weapons.37 Effective nuclear attacks against these targets could take away momentum from the offensive thereby forcing an attritional campaign with long duration and high casualties. The United States would have few military options to counter this nuclear threat. Covert actions and air strikes against Iraq’s nuclear weapons would be unable to reduce this nuclear threat to an insignificant level due to lack of reliable and timely intelligence. Also, it would be risky to put Iraq in a “use or lose it” situation by going after its valuable military assets. Nor would intra-war deterrence likely restrain a ruthless dictator like Saddam in a desperate life-and-death struggle.38 Therefore, the US maneuver strategy would become obsolete unless the United States prevented Saddam from acquiring nuclear weapons. Inaction would shut the tempting window of opportunity.

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In spite of its military confidence and sense of urgency, the Bush administration resorted to diplomatic measures before plunging into war. It began to put pressure on Saddam through the UN Security Council. As the Iraqi government did not fully satisfy demands, the United States then issued an ultimatum demanding that Saddam and his sons leave Iraq in 48 hours. However, these coercive measures proved futile in the end. Given military odds against him, it is puzzling that Saddam did not surrender.39 Scarce available information on Iraqi decision-making in the run-up to war precludes any authoritative account at the moment. Nevertheless, my strategic theory offers a plausible explanation: the coercive diplomacy failed to disarm Iraq because Saddam misunderstood the deceptive US strategy thereby underestimating US military capability and resolve. A partly declassified postwar study of Iraqi strategic calculus confirms this account, revealing that Saddam and his inner circle believed that they could force a costly war of attrition upon the Americans thereby obtaining a more palatable deal or that the prospect of a costly attrition campaign would deter a US invasion.40 With Iraqi official records made public in the future, there will be an opportunity to assess this hypothetical account thoroughly. North Korea41 North Korea has persistently acquired nuclear technologies since the end of the Korean War and accelerated its nuclear program from the 1970s onward.42 Its two patrons – the former Soviet Union and China – supported its efforts by providing reactors and technical assistance during the Cold War. The nuclear program of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) came to draw worldwide attention in 1989, when the US intelligence community detected suspicious activities in North Korea that suggested the program was being weaponized. A major international crisis then emerged in the early 1990s, as the United States and its allies pressured North Korea to accept intrusive inspections and give up its nuclear program. In the face of Pyongyang’s defiance, the Clinton administration seriously considered economic sanctions and military options in the spring of 1994.43 US intelligence officials at that time estimated that a five-megawatt graphite-moderated reactor and a reprocessing plant at Yongbyon had produced enough plutonium for one or possibly two nuclear weapons.44 The two more powerful reactors being constructed further would increase the capacity to produce weapons-grade fissile material. The United States, however, managed to conclude a last-minute bargain with North Korea in October 1994. This bilateral agreement (known as the Agreed Framework) obliged Pyongyang to freeze and eventually dismantle its nuclear program; the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) was to monitor the DPRK nuclear facilities until their verified liquidation. For its part, Washington pledged to provide 500,000 tons of heavy fuel oil annually and to deliver two 1,000-megawatt “proliferation-resistant” light-water reactors (LWRs) by 2003. The United States also committed to ultimately normalizing diplomatic and

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economic relations with North Korea. Both sides were to implement this agreement in a step-by-step and reciprocal fashion. The Agreed Framework, however, was ineffectively enforced and eventually became a dead letter. The ill-fated agreement faced serious challenges from the beginning. American critics continually raised doubts on Pyongyang’s trustworthiness, and this mistrust led to confrontations over suspicious activities, most notably, in Kumchangni.45 Consequently, delivery of heavy fuel oil and construction of LWRs fell behind schedule. After muddling through for a decade, the Agreed Framework finally met its abrupt end in the winter of 2002–03, and consequently, the Bush administration came to face the second North Korean nuclear crisis. Washington announced in October 2002 that Pyongyang had admitted to pursuing a covert program to produce highly enriched uranium (HEU). Pakistani scientist A.Q. Khan was reported to have provided North Korea with centrifuges and designs in exchange for missile technology. The Bush administration responded to this violation of the 1994 agreement by suspending oil shipments, while the Kim Jong Il government restarted operations at its nuclear facilities and announced withdrawal from the Non-Proliferation Treaty. Although the United States and the DPRK along with the Republic of Korea (ROK), Japan, China, and Russia began the “six-party talks” in August 2003 to resolve the crisis, progress was disturbingly slow.46 In February 2005, Pyongyang publicly declared its possession of nuclear weapons and indefinitely suspended its participation in the multi-lateral talks. In response, the United States and other concerned parties pressured North Korea to resume negotiation and not to conduct a nuclear test.47 These efforts bore modest yet meaningful fruits, as the parties resumed the talks in Beijing in July 2005 and agreed upon a joint statement outlining guiding principles for further negotiation in September. A new round of talks discussing the agreement’s implementation began in early November 2005, but it soon faltered: North Korea quit the talks in response to a US move to freeze its financial assets allegedly linked to counterfeiting and drug trafficking. In October 2006, North Korea finally conducted its first nuclear test, bringing about UN sanctions and throwing the viability of diplomatic process further into question. The US military seems to have only attrition strategies available to it vis-àvis North Korea. Its current war plan for the Korean contingency – Operation Plan 5027 – is shrouded in secrecy but reported to envision an extensive period of attritional campaign. According to public media accounts of this strategy, the ROK army, assisted by the US Forces in Korea (USFK), would grind invading forces to halt while US reinforcements arrive. After this extensive period of attrition, the replenished allied forces would switch to a two-pronged offensive toward Pyongyang and Wonsan. The US–ROK forces would destroy remnants of North Korean military power and liberate the northern half of the Korean peninsula. The attritional nature of this war plan will likely remain true in the new plan (Operation Plan 5030) or any “pre-emptive attack” plans that the Pentagon has been devising to replace the old strategy, because the Korean theater

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of operations contains many military and geographical features that hamper effective maneuver.48 The US forces would find it difficult to penetrate the North Korean defense. The demilitarized zone (DMZ) dividing the Korean peninsula is only 250 kilometers (155 miles) long. North Korea has deployed a one-million-men army with 6,500 armored vehicles and 10,000 artillery pieces along this narrow front. In addition, about 70 percent of its total units are stationed within 100 kilometers of the DMZ. Therefore, the overall force-to-space ratio at the front (2,800 troops per kilometer) is sufficiently high by any standard.49 The DPRK defense is not only dense but also deep, consisting of four broad echelons and large mobile reserves of five mechanized and tank corps.50 Extensive fortifications prepared over several decades provide effective cover and concealment for these forces. History teaches us that even a superiorly trained and equipped force often fails to break through such well-fortified defense in depth.51 Moreover, the Korean peninsula contains rugged terrain including mountains, rivers, and rice fields.52 Its northern part is particularly mountainous, and three rivers block the major approaches to Pyongyang. And since the DMZ contains only a small number of major attack corridors to both north and south, major operational surprise is unlikely. An effective flanking maneuver also seems highly unlikely, since both flanks are protected by the seas. The United States is certainly capable of establishing air superiority over a landing zone, an essential component of any successful large-scale invasion from the sea.53 However, North Korean mines, submarines, Silkworm anti-ship missiles, and possibly WMD would still pose significant threats to the invading forces. The western coastline of North Korea (with vast tidelands) and the rocky eastern shoreline are also unsuitable for a large-scale amphibious operation. Even if the marines successfully secured beachheads, North Korean corps in the rear area could contain them for a considerable period. The US Marine Corps has developed a concept of “operational maneuver from the sea,” which inserts mobile forces deep inland directly from ships lying over the horizon (a “sea base”).54 Although this innovative concept promises to better handle the above challenges, the expeditionary forces might still have trouble taking Pyongyang – arguably the DPRK center of gravity. To reach the North Korean capital city, the outnumbered marines would need to force their way through the North’s best heavy forces and mountain ranges if they land along the east coast near Wonsan. A joint operation with air assault divisions would somewhat reduce their burden but could not produce a remarkably different outcome. An Operation Korean Freedom, therefore, would probably be an attrition campaign rather than resembling Operation Iraqi Freedom or Desert Storm. A surgical air strike is not a viable option for the United States, either. It will not be able to completely eliminate DPRK nuclear capability, in part because the United States does not know the whereabouts of all the important nuclear facilities and materials.55 As a presidential commission recently testified: “Across the board, the intelligence community knows disturbingly little about the nuclear

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programs of many of the world’s most dangerous actors.”56 It would be not too difficult to destroy large known nuclear reactors and reprocessing plants at Yongbyon and Taechon. However, the United States would find it hard to locate extracted plutonium, suspected atomic bombs, and the uranium enrichment plant that the DPRK is believed to have secretly purchased from Pakistan in 1997–98. During the 1991 Gulf War, such dearth of reliable intelligence was in part responsible for US failure to destroy Iraq’s Scud missiles.57 The US Air Force presently faces an even greater challenge of finding even less detectable targets in North Korea. Since these important targets are probably stored deep underground or in caves, even a precision strike might not be able to eliminate them. Although the 2002 Nuclear Posture Review calls for the United States to develop an effective capability against underground and hardened facilities, this effort will probably take years to bear fruit.58 Absent a capability to locate and destroy concealed and hardened targets, an air strike would also be unable to decapitate North Korean leadership and thereby cause the collapse of the regime. An air strike is also likely to escalate into a full-scale war in which the United States is forced to conduct a costly campaign of attrition. Pyongyang has repeatedly threatened to fight a war in retaliation for economic sanctions or attacks.59 Given the significant political influence of the North Korean military, this threat appears quite credible. In the case of an air strike, North Korean generals are unlikely to lose a valuable military asset with equanimity. Substantial collateral damage resulting from radioactive fallout would further enrage them. And Kim Jong Il would probably respond with a major retaliation in order to maintain his generals’ indispensable loyalty. Lacking his father’s personal charisma, the North Korean leader has turned to the military for political support and adopted an “Army First” (Songun) doctrine to reward officers.60 His bold and proud personality will also likely spur Kim to a violent response to US attacks; no one – including soft-liners if there exist any – will be able to restrain him.61 A North Korean response would in turn lead to a US military reaction and still further North Korean retaliation. Also, there is a possibility that North Korea would misconstrue surgical air strikes as a prelude to a major invasion and therefore launch an all-out pre-emptive attack.62 The limited DPRK intelligence capability increases the likelihood of such misperception. North Korea also has a compelling military incentive to pre-empt. The 30,000 USFK would rapidly expand into a formidable force of approximately 690,000 troops, 160 navy ships, and 2,000 aircraft deployed from the United States within 90 days of hostilities.63 Therefore, North Korea would have to deliver a decisive blow early rather than later to have any chance of success. Finally, unconventional warfare is not a viable option for Washington, either. The United States does not have reliable bases for special operations in North Korea, unlike in Afghanistan and Iraq in which the Northern Alliance and the Kurds provided essential sanctuaries for US special forces and spies, respectively. Also, the ethnically homogeneous, inaccessible North Korean society contains no readily identifiable cleavages upon which to

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organize mass resistance. The extensive surveillance and bribery also effectively insulate the officer corps from external penetration and influence, although occasional reports of military purges suggest that considerable discontent exists.64 Therefore, it is extremely difficult to generate effective armed insurgency in North Korea, not to mention sustaining it in the face of a massive security apparatus. Anticipating an attritional campaign of frontal assaults, the United States is not confident enough to fight or risk a preventive war. There is no question that the United States can defeat North Korea eventually in an all-out war; both Washington and Seoul agree on this point. General Richard Myers, the former chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, said in an interview that North Koreans “know that if they were to start any conflict on that peninsula, that would be the end of their regime. They would lose and they know that and we are very confident about that.”65 Victory, however, will be too costly in both human and material terms.66 As a senior US military officer put it: “The outcome of a war in Korea should not be in doubt, but it would be grim.”67 Military experts estimate that a second Korean War would cost the United States roughly 80,000–100,000 casualties and $100 billion.68 When damage to other countries is also considered, the estimated cost of war rises as high as one million casualties and $1 trillion.69 Another estimate calculates that a second Korean War would expend $60 billion and claim three million casualties, including 52,000 US military casualties.70 The 500 forward-deployed long-range artillery tubes and 200 rocket launchers alone threaten to claim tens of thousands of South Korean civilian casualties and tens of billions of dollars in damage at the opening hours of hostilities: after all, the capital city of Seoul is only 40 miles from the DMZ.71 Although the allied forces are equipped with effective counterbattery radar, the North Korean artillery pieces – especially those in protected positions – could fire up to a dozen or more rounds before being neutralized; such a barrage of fire would suffice to inflict massive casualties on densely populated Seoul.72 And while North Korea’s Scud missiles can strike any part of South Korea, its Nodong missiles (with a range of 1,300 kilometers) are also capable of hitting Japanese population centers. An allied pre-emptive attack against long-range artillery and missiles is not an effective option, since they are numerous, concealed, and protected. These estimates of casualties and expenses assume that the US and ROK forces conduct defensive operations in the initial phase of war. A major counterattack would not start until the North Korean army is worn down and the allies achieve military dominance in the theater of operation. In contrast, a preventive war would require an early allied offensive against an opponent in full strength and fighting from prepared defensive positions. Also, the advancing allied forces will not only face a conventional threat posed by the DPRK active forces but also deal with guerrilla warfare waged by paramilitary troops. North Korea has long subscribed to a principle of “the arming of the whole people” and has trained several million paramilitary troops.73 In addition, an unprovoked invasion might incur a greater risk of a North Korean chemical, biological, or

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nuclear attack than a counter-offensive would. Therefore, the allies’ casualties could be much higher than the above estimates.74 It is clear that such a costly preventive war is not a politically viable option for the United States. According to international relations scholars, although the prospect of an attritional war dissuades most states from initiating wars, democratic governments arguably face particularly daunting challenges in selling such a war to their publics.75 The US government is no exception. In December 2006, as the war in Iraq had claimed about 3,000 lives and had cost over $350 billion, 61 percent of Americans surveyed said that the war had not been worth fighting.76 In light of such sensitivity to war costs, few, if any, presidents would be able to sell the US public on a noticeably more expensive war on the Korean peninsula – unless North Korea were to directly attack the United States first or to transfer nuclear weapons to terrorist organizations. A public opinion poll confirms this point: even before the nuclear test demonstrated the DPRK nuclear capability, 62 percent of Americans opposed military action against North Korea without grave provocations.77 Policy-makers recognize the political constraint in using military force against Pyongyang. “I am not saying we don’t have military options,” one of President George W. Bush’s most senior advisors reportedly admitted in an interview, “I am just saying we don’t have good ones.”78 Similarly, former US Defense Secretary William Perry stated in his 1999 report on North Korea policy that “the prospect of such a destructive war is a powerful deterrent to precipitous US or allied action.”79 In the face of such a political constraint, the Clinton and Bush administrations both seriously considered but understandably shied away from the use of force. The United States also does not have a strong motive for preventive war against North Korea because it is not confronting new strategic vulnerabilities. There is an ongoing debate on whether the North Korean nuclear capability is intended for intimidation, deterrence, or prestige.80 Analysts also disagree on the North Korean regime’s political goals and strategic intentions.81 However, there is little doubt that this modest arsenal will not provide Pyongyang with a military strategy that can defeat the US and ROK forces decisively. Even a nucleararmed North Korea cannot avoid a war of attrition in which materially superior allied forces would almost certainly prevail. As Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice noted, North Korea has also never put its WMD to military use.82 Therefore, the United States has less reason to fear future vulnerabilities resulting from Pyongyang’s nuclear armament. In addition, the United States does not expect to lose a good opportunity to act through its current inaction because there is currently no good military opportunity for it at the conventional level vis-à-vis North Korea. This is one crucial difference between North Korea and Iraq. In the spring of 2003, Washington expected to conquer Iraq on the cheap but anticipated that Saddam Hussein’s WMD would close the window of opportunity. Consequently, the United States faced strong time pressure. In stark contrast, an operational nuclear force in Kim Jong Il’s hands will not shut down a window of opportunity, since there is no window to begin with. The United States is and will simply

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remain unable to defeat North Korea at an acceptable cost. A DPRK nuclear arsenal will make an armed conflict costlier, but the prospect is sufficiently costly even now. A war of miscalculation on the Korean peninsula is also unlikely. Since neither the United States nor North Korea can carry out a deceptive maneuver, they can tacitly agree on what they can or cannot do with their forces. It is obvious that the superior US forces would prevail eventually in a war of attrition but not without paying high costs in both lives and resources. Although North Korea publicly boasts of its ability to defeat the United States quickly, this is most likely to be a mere propaganda. In fact, a quick and decisive victory (tangi kyoljon) has been beyond Pyongyang’s reach since the autumn of 1950. As USFK recently relocated to the rear area south of the Han River, Pyongyang has an even lower chance of swiftly entrapping and annihilating US forces, which are now less vulnerable to DPRK special operations behind the frontline and artillery and missile attacks. North Korea probably understands that any major armed conflict will result in a defeat and regime collapse rather than in a successful blitzkrieg insofar as a substantial US force remains in South Korea.83 Therefore, since there is little chance for miscalculating the balance of capabilities, both Washington and Pyongyang can avoid stepping over the red lines drawn by the other party. The prospect of an attrition war also makes both sides cautious and unwilling to take risky measures. For example, the United States has not launched a surgical air strike against North Korean nuclear facilities in an attempt to stop the expansion of DPRK nuclear arsenal. Nor has Washington resorted to coercive strategies that apply sanctions or even to a limited amount of force to pressure Pyongyang. For its part, North Korea has yet to sell chemical and biological agents and weapons-grade fissile materials to terrorists. Although it is doubtful that the ruthless North Korean leadership cares about its people’s welfare, its selfish desire to stay in power is sufficient to proscribe reckless actions. Iran It was the Shah government that launched the Iranian nuclear program, constructing power reactors and conducting research on fissile material production. The Iranian revolution of 1979 and the ensuing war with Iraq (1980–88) interrupted the progress of nuclear development, but Teheran soon resumed its efforts to establish a complete nuclear fuel cycle that ostensibly served civilian purposes yet had potential military applications. Iran reportedly pursued a uranium enrichment program since 1991 and conducted experiments with imported materiel until 2002, allegedly with assistance from the A.Q. Khan network. The Iranians also separated a small amount of plutonium from spent fuel. Although Teheran’s nuclear program was subject to international inspections since 1992, the IAEA failed to detect the violations of the safeguards agreement for a decade. Consequently, Iran did not receive much attention as a major proliferation concern, overshadowed by Iraq and North Korea that were believed to have greater latent capabilities and stronger intents.

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This tranquility suddenly dissipated in the run-up to the 2003 Iraq War, and Washington placed Iran’s nuclear program on the front burner. In August 2002, an Iranian opposition group called the National Council of Resistance of Iran (NCRI) announced that the Teheran government was secretly building uranium enrichment plants at Natanz and a heavy water plant and a plutonium production reactor at Arak. US experts and officials soon confirmed these allegations. In February 2003, IAEA officials were allowed to visit the Natanz facilities and found that the Iranian nuclear program was far more advanced than had been previously estimated. Their report submitted in June announced that Iran failed to fully disclose its nuclear activities including importation of sensitive materials and production of centrifuge components. Accordingly, the United States and its European allies pressured Iran to suspend all nuclear activities and cooperate fully with inspectors. Iran agreed to suspend enrichment and reprocessing in October, but it continued with other activities including uranium conversion and centrifuge production while obstructing IAEA investigation of its past activities. In response, Britain, France, and Germany (“E3”) sought a possible bargain with Iran that would permanently ban enrichment and reprocessing activities. The United States was not sanguine about the prospect for negotiation but nevertheless supported their diplomatic efforts by proposing to renounce its objection to Iran’s application to the World Trade Organization and to consider selling spare parts for Iranian civilian aircraft. In November 2004, these incentives, together with threats of sanctions, managed to elicit Iran’s commitment to freezing the nuclear program temporarily while negotiation proceeded. Such diplomatic progress, however, soon ran aground as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad – a radical hard-liner – defeated Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani – a moderate pragmatist – in the presidential election held in June 2005. The new Iranian government refused to accept a proposal offered by the European Union and resumed uranium conversion in August. Teheran then rejected a comprise proposal made by Russia as well. Faced with Iran’s defiance, the IAEA finally decided to report the Iranian case to the UN Security Council in February 2006. In retaliation, Iran restricted inspection and monitoring to minimum levels required by the safeguards agreement and has intermittently – probably due to technical troubles – operated centrifuge cascades and enriched uranium at Natanz. In June 2006, E3, the United States, Russia, and China proposed a package deal containing extraordinary incentives such as US direct involvement in negotiation and transfers of advanced civilian nuclear technology, in an attempt to revive the diplomatic process. However, this new initiative did not succeed as Teheran declined a temporary suspension of uranium enrichment requested by the concerned parties as a sign of good faith. To counter this apparent delaying tactics, the UN Security Council imposed economic sanctions on Iran in December 2006, blocking the trade of sensitive materiel and equipment and freezing the financial assets of entities supporting nuclear activities (Resolution 1737). The US Treasury Department additionally imposed de facto financial sanctions, reducing Iran’s access to the international monetary system. Washington has repeatedly declared that Iran’s nuclear armament is unacceptable, and

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military countermeasures are not off the table. Whether the United States will actually resort to force depends crucially upon available military strategies. *

*

*

It appears that the United States does not possess effective maneuver strategies vis-à-vis Iran. Considering troop commitments in Iraq and other places, the most preferable military option to the United States is perhaps a surgical air strike against Iran’s nuclear facilities. But this may not be a viable choice for some compelling reasons, as war games have repeatedly demonstrated. First of all, the United States does not know the extents and locations of Iran’s nuclear-related activities. An August 2006 report prepared for the US Congress noted that “American intelligence agencies do not know nearly enough about Iran’s nuclear weapons program.”84 A senior US official also said in November 2006: “We do not have enough information about the Iranian nuclear program to be confident that you could destroy it in a single attack.”85 And it is not likely that the situation will markedly improve anytime soon: the Central Intelligence Agency lost critical assets inside Iran in 2004 when it exposed them by accident. Therefore, the United States cannot be confident that even effective attacks against the known and suspected sites would inflict crippling damage on Iran’s nuclear program. Some experts even believe that Iran may have an advanced covert nuclear program parallel to the known program under IAEA inspections and that for this reason a complete destruction of the latter will not stop Iran from going nuclear. Of course, it is not at all certain that the United States is capable of destroying even the known and suspected facilities completely. The potential targets are numerous (numbering as many as 70) and dispersed throughout the sizable country. Therefore, it is difficult to orchestrate nearly simultaneous strikes and thereby fully exploit the critical element of surprise. Failures to do so would mean that the attackers would face alerted air defense and run higher (albeit not great) risks of abortive missions and prohibitive casualties. Moreover, some key nuclear facilities are hardened and underground. Most notably, uranium enrichment plants at Natanz – arguably the most important facilities – are buried as deep as 15–18 meters.86 Such protected targets are not vulnerable to any conventional weapons currently in US possession, although carefully coordinated sequential attacks could disable them. Tactical nuclear weapons can do this job more effectively, but their use will generate considerable collateral damage because some key targets are located near population centers. Such a nuclear strike carrying exorbitant civilian costs is probably a politically untenable option. Air strikes also threaten to escalate into a war of attrition. Since Iran’s key nuclear facilities are located close to major cities such as Isfahan, air raids will likely produce civilian casualties and create popular pressure for reprisal. Iran is most likely to retaliate against a US limited attack through a forceful intervention in the ongoing Iraq war. Teheran would actively instigate and assist

144 Conclusion assaults on US forces by its Shiite Iraqi allies such as Moqtada al-Sadr, who has pledged to support Iran in case of a hostile military action. Teheran might also dispatch troops or suicide bombers directly to Iraq, attacking US troops and supply lines there and undermining efforts for stabilization and reconstruction. As its predicament in Iraq demonstrates, the United States does not have a military strategy for winning such an unconventional war quickly and decisively. Furthermore, the Iranian military could strike the US forces directly with its Shahab and other ballistic missiles, possibly armed with chemical weapons. Also, Iran might decide to escalate conflict horizontally by instigating terrorist attacks against Israel by Hezbollah, which in 2006 demonstrated its ability to conduct a sustained offensive operation while parrying potent attacks from the Israel Defense Forces. Hamas might join the offensive against the Israelis as well. In such an event, the United States would feel pressed to increase assistance to Israel in order to protect the ally and thereby restrain its direct military response against Iran: any Israeli attack would risk an armed intervention by other Arab nations. Finally, Iran also could harass oil shipments passing through the Strait of Hormuz (which account for approximately 40 percent of the world’s oil supply) thereby raising the price of oil and hurting the economies of the United States and its allies. The Iranian military possesses an array of weapons necessary for this mission including SS-N-22 Sunburn antiship missiles, Kilo-class submarines, torpedo boats, and mines. An air strike by Israel is hardly any less problematic. As the 1981 Osiraq bombing well demonstrated, the Israeli air force has been capable of conducting long-range precision strikes. Israel now has a more capable striking force equipped with highly lethal precision-guided munitions.87 Such improved combat effectiveness may not be sufficient, however. The Iranian nuclear program is far less vulnerable to air raids than was the Iraqi counterpart in 1981 (which was concentrated and unprotected). Also, Israel seems to have no better knowledge of Iran’s nuclear-related activities than does the United States. Therefore, even effective strikes may not derail Teheran’s nuclear program for a long time. Moreover, given its long patronage vis-à-vis Israel, the United States – and the Bush administration in particular – would have great difficulty in dispelling any suspicion that it is behind any Israeli attack. Consequently, the United States would be subject to the above-mentioned retaliatory measures adopted by Iran. Even if the United States initially succeeded in distancing itself from an Israeli attack and thereby avoiding reprisal, it would be unable to remain aloof indefinitely, leaving its ally facing counterattacks alone: Israel has many influential supporters in that country. Therefore, the United States would be drawn eventually into the conflict and end up fighting a costly attrition war with Iran and its proxies. Such grim military prospects largely explain why the United States has hesitated to launch a preventive attack against Iran. The Bush administration has not ruled out military options entirely, and some prominent politicians like Senator John McCain has endorsed use of force in public – albeit as a last resort. Besides neoconservatives, however, American leaders are not eager to attack Iran in

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important part because they understand this will lead to a costly war of attrition with uncertain prospects. Similarly, the US publics are disposed against military action: 63 percent of respondents of a May 2007 poll said they would oppose it.88 The prospect of fighting an attrition war is an anathema to most states and deters use of military force under ordinary circumstances. And no states are eager to fight two such wars simultaneously: one with Iraqi insurgents, the other with Iranians in this case. The United States currently faces such an unsavory prospect and therefore is willing to go to great length to avoid it. The foregoing analysis shows that strategy continues to shape the politics of power shifts in a crucial way. The sole superpower of the world is subject to the constraints and opportunities that military strategy creates, as were other great powers in the past. Even the seemingly reckless regimes led by Kim Jong Il, Saddam Hussein, and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad are no exceptions in this regard. Of course, there is no guarantee that this pattern will continue to hold in the future, and it will be wise to attend to the possibility of any fundamental transformation. However, understanding lessons from the past can still serve as a good starting point for forecasting (and possibly altering) the future. In this book, I have attempted to provide that essential basis.

Appendix Coding cases of power shifts

Coding procedure To insure that my coding is unbiased, I use the same indicators and sources used by the proponents of each theory whenever possible. Following are descriptions of indicators and coding rules. Military strategy is coded according to two rules. First, I only use official war plans formally authorized by the military and political leadership. I exclude strategic concepts devised for educational purposes and proposals that did not officially take effect, since they rarely shape a state’s assessment of military opportunity when decisions of war and peace are made. Second, I focus on the primary dimension of the official war plan. A nation’s military strategy can have four dimensions: nuclear, ground, naval, and air strategies. The vast destructive power of nuclear weapons makes nuclear strategy the primary dimension in cases where at least one opponent has a sizable nuclear arsenal. Otherwise, ground warfare becomes the main pillar of military strategy because the clash of armies most often decides the outcome of a conventional war.1 Only if no significant nuclear or ground elements are involved, are naval or air strategies regarded as the primary dimension of the official war plan. I refer mainly to Charles Glaser and Chaim Kaufmann’s conceptual framework in coding the offense–defense balance.2 Their conception is the most sophisticated among alternative definitions of the balance and is useful in three respects.3 First, Glaser and Kaufmann look at objective material conditions rather than subjective interpretations of them. The perceived offense–defense balance is an illusive concept. When strategists conclude that offense is easy, they may have considered many factors other than conventional components of the real offense–defense balance such as technology and geography. Therefore, perceived offensive or defensive advantage may actually reflect power, military strategy, and skills. Second, Glaser and Kaufmann exclude states’ alliance behavior from their definition. A number of factors reportedly determine alliance policies.4 Therefore, if one highlights diplomatic factors to explain a state’s conflict behavior, he is actually importing other variables such as power into his explanation.5 This renders it impossible to trace the causal effect of the offense–defense balance precisely. Third, Glaser and Kaufmann define the

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offense–defense balance within dyads rather than coding the entire international system. This approach fits well with our focus on dyadic power shifts and war. The offense–defense balance is measured in light of technology, geography, and force-to-space ratio. Unlike Glaser and Kaufmann, I do not consider nationalism because it remained roughly constant throughout the period under examination. I first examine technologies available to both states and code each technology as either defense-enhancing or offense-enhancing according to common practices among offense–defense theorists. If there is no majority opinion, the technology is coded as neutral. I then aggregate technology-specific codings into a single technological balance. Geography is coded as defenseenhancing only if the main theater of operations contains rough terrain, a large body of water, buffer regions, or sparse roads. Otherwise, I conclude that geography favors the offense. I code force-to-space ratio as favorable to the defense, if one division is responsible for defending no more than 10 kilometers on average.6 Finally, I give each component equal weight and estimate the overall offense–defense balance. Although such a measure falls short of Glaser and Kaufmann’s procedure, it may still be a reasonable “ballpark estimate” of the balance. Military power is measured with a composite index of military personnel and expenditure – the average of a state’s proportional shares of the two resources possessed by all great powers. I declare that marked military superiority exists when the decliner is no less than 10 percent stronger than both the riser and the riser’s most powerful (potential) ally. I measure the dyadic rather than the coalitional military balance, since dynamic differentials theory pays attention exclusively to the former. Following Copeland’s precedent, figures on military personnel and expenditure are drawn from the National Material Capabilities Data.7 This procedure allows us to avoid the potential criticism of unfair coding: Copeland himself uses these two figures among others to estimate military power.8 This index turns out to approximate the author’s estimate reasonably well. For instance, the index – like Copeland’s – indicates that Germany had marked military superiority in 1914 and 1941. Also, the composite index can capture both quality and quantity of the armed forces. Given that training and equipment need monetary investment, military expenditure may be associated with the armed forces’ quality. I estimate the presence of power transition or parity in terms of gross national product (GNP). Since Organski and Kugler’s The War Ledger, GNP remains one of the most popular indicators of power in the power transition literature.9 Following common practice, I argue that there is a preponderance of power if a weaker state has less than 80 percent of the stronger state’s GNP. I draw GNP figures mainly from Kugler and Organski’s 1989 data, since the original War Ledger Data contains no post-1970 figures.10 When it is difficult to make valid inferences using the Kugler and Organski data alone, I turn to the War Ledger Data, Paul Bairoch’s GNP data, and gross domestic product (GDP) data compiled by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD).11

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Coding war initiators rests on “historians’ consensus as to whose battalions made the first attack in strength on their opponents’ armies and territories,” a method adopted by the Correlates of War (COW) project.12 I adopt the data set’s codings whenever it clearly identifies the initiator of a dyadic conflict. The COW data set, however, does not tell us which state initiated a conflict within a specific dyad of wars involving three or more states, since it designates only one belligerent as the principal initiator of an entire war. In coding such cases, I refer to a consensus or a majority opinion in related historiography and determine which state launched a premeditated first attack in strength.13 My procedure results in no highly controversial codings.

Case description In order to test each competing theory, I confirm the presence of the specified war-promoting condition – a maneuver strategy for my theory – in each case. In a case in which the declining state initiated war, I code only the war plan that was in effect when hostilities started. Since the older replaced plans had little direct influence on the decision for war, there is no point describing them for a testing purpose. In cases of peaceful power shifts, I investigate whether the decliner ever adopted a maneuver strategy during the examined period. This procedure is also applied in coding the other explanatory variables for similar analytical reasons. Military strategy France–Germany, 1860–70 France entered the war of 1870 believing that a flanking-maneuver strategy was possible. The French organized their forces into three field armies.14 The First Army, three-corps strong, was planned to concentrate around Strasbourg, while the Second Army, also of three corps, would be stationed at Metz. The Third Army would form a reserve of two corps at Chalons. With the concentration complete, the First and Second Armies were to join near Strasbourg and advance into the South German states crossing the Rhine.15 Meanwhile, the Third Army would relocate to Metz and defend the Lorraine frontier where a major German thrust was expected. In South Germany, the First and Second Armies were to induce the South German states into neutrality16 and link up with the AustroHungarian as well as the Italian armies. The allied forces would then march straight toward Berlin. Japan–Russia, 1880–1904 The Japanese war plan was maneuver-centered. Japan planned to begin war by launching a surprise attack against the Russian fleet at Port Arthur.17 This naval offensive aimed to destroy or at least contain the enemy warships thereby

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cutting off seaborne lines of communication to the Russian forward base. The navy would then transport three armies to the northern shore of the Bay of Korea. The landed armies were directed to block the sole railroad linking Port Arthur to the Russian homeland. If successful, the Japanese would be able to entrap the bulk of Russian fleet and a significant portion of Russian army at Port Arthur. After completing the encirclement, the Japanese armies would advance onto Liao-yang where the headquarters of the Russian Far Eastern army was located and set up a defense against any Russian attempt to relieve Port Arthur. In the meantime, another Japanese army would march across the Korean peninsula and mop up the isolated Russian forces at Port Arthur. Afterward, all the Japanese armies would combine their strength and win a decisive battle before reinforcements from Europe could give the Russians numerical superiority in the theater. Germany–Russia, 1890–1914 Germany possessed a maneuver strategy known as the Schlieffen Plan from 1906 until the outbreak of war. See Chapter 4 for details. Germany–Soviet Union, 1925–41 Prior to the invasion of the Soviet Union, Germany adopted a penetrationmaneuver strategy customarily called a “Blitzkrieg strategy.” Four German panzer groups planned to break through the Soviet defense and effect deep strategic penetrations into the rear area. These armored spearheads would cut off the Soviet lines of communications and prevent “the organized withdrawal of intact units into the vastness of interior Russia.”18 The following German forces would then annihilate the trapped defenders. Given the vast expanse of the theater of operations, a quick and decisive victory was deemed possible only if this process of penetration and encirclement was repeated incessantly until the bulk of the Russian forces were annihilated.19 The German army would then deliver a final knockout blow by seizing Moscow, the keystone of the Russian command, control, and communication networks. The defeat of the Red Army would force the communist regime to collapse; a new government would then sue for peace. Russia–Germany, 1870–90 Russia had an attrition-based defensive war plan between 1870 and 1890. See Chapter 3 for detailed description. France–Germany, 1880–1914 The French army had an offensive attrition strategy named Plan XVII in 1914. See Chapter 4 for details.

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Britain–Germany, 1890–1914 The British strategy was of an attritional nature. In the event of war, Britain planned to defeat Germany by waging conventional land warfare with assistance from continental land powers like France in particular.20 The British Expeditionary Force, composed of six infantry divisions and one cavalry division, would concentrate along the southern Belgian-French border and guard the left flank of the French army against an anticipated German thrust through southern Belgium. The mission of the British army was to check the German advance by means of head-on engagements. No strategic maneuver was planned. Meanwhile, the French army would fight a decisive battle in Alsace and Lorraine. At the same time, the Royal Navy would seek to achieve command of the sea and impose a “distant blockade” to strangle the German economy.21 The Home Fleet would block the Scotland–Norway line, while the Channel Fleet would seal off the Dover–Calais area. These naval actions aimed to stop German seaborne commerce while protecting the allied merchant marines from the enemy cruisers. The navy would also secure supply lines in the English Channel and guard France’s northern coasts against German raids. It was recognized that the allied armies would play a decisive role in subduing Germany, while a top priority for the navy was to assist in the ground campaign. Britain–United States, 1860–1914 Britain had an attrition strategy against the United States throughout this period. In case of war, the British army and Canadian militias planned to defend the key eastern cities such as Montreal and Quebec relying on the St. Lawrence River.22 The British defense depended mostly on the river itself and the nearby railroads running parallel for supplies and reinforcements. In order to protect its vulnerable lines of communication, Britain also planned for a limited offensive to occupy the river’s southern bank and the Maine region. The Royal Navy would guard the army’s western flank by achieving local naval superiority on the Great Lakes, especially Lakes Ontario and Erie. After destroying the US Atlantic fleet, the navy would also impose a naval blockade and attack coastal cities including New York and Boston. This passive strategy aimed to wear down the Americans’ material strength and will to fight thereby bringing about favorable terms of peace. France–Germany, 1929–39 France devised an attrition strategy inspired by its experience of the Great War.23 Its planners envisioned four successive stages for the ultimate victory over Germany.24 At the onset of war, French field armies and the British Expeditionary Force would march into Belgium and check an expected German advance. Meanwhile, fortifications of the Maginot Line would defend the German border. In the second phase, France and Britain would wear down

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German strength through naval blockade and strategic bombing while gathering resources from their empires. This prolonged process was expected to give the allies overwhelming material superiority in the end. Then the allies would knock Italy out of war if it joined the German side. Finally, the allied forces would switch to an all-out offensive against Germany and defeat the Wehrmacht by applying brute force. The French and British anticipated that ultimate victory would be attained after fighting a series of battles akin to “a modernized Verdun or Somme.” Britain–Germany, 1925–39 Britain planned on an allied campaign of attrition together with France against Germany. See the previous subsection. Japan–United States, 1933–41 Imperial Japan went to war with a maneuver-centered naval strategy. See Chapter 5 for detailed account. United States–Soviet Union, 1946–61 The United States had attrition strategies during this period. The United States and its Western allies planned to fight a ground campaign of attrition in the European continent while destroying Soviet power through a lengthy strategic bombing campaign that employed both nuclear and conventional weapons.25 The MC48 strategy adopted in December 1954 also added a massive pre-emptive use of nuclear weapons to disarm the Soviet nuclear arsenal – both strategic and tactical – at the onset of war.26 Soviet Union–United States, 1970–85 The Soviet conventional strategy was maneuver-oriented. The Soviet Union and its Warsaw Pact allies planned for large-scale offensive operations in the event of war with the US-led North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). Although the Warsaw Treaty Organization (WTO) declared no intention of starting a war, it would “carry the war on to enemy territory” soon after the opening of hostilities.27 Its war plan envisioned a five-pronged offensive against the NATO defense and the swift conquest of Western Europe.28 Each group of assault troops would penetrate the local frontline and engage in “deep operations” in the enemy’s interior. Mobile spearheads named “Operational Maneuver Groups” would lead the offensive and advance “deep into the rear of the enemy territory to disrupt command and control, seize nuclear installations and airfields or key logistic points.”29 The Warsaw Pact planners expected to occupy Denmark, West Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium and reach the frontiers of France by the thirteenth or fifteenth day of war.30 The French and remaining Allied forces

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would then be enveloped and annihilated in eastern and northeastern France; the Soviet forces were to reach the Spanish border by day 30 or 35. Finally, the Warsaw Pact forces would invade the Iberian Peninsular and other regions thereby driving the US forces permanently out of the European continent. At the strategic nuclear level, however, the Soviet Union had only an attrition strategy available to it. The Soviets hoped to delay or avoid the nuclearization of war if at all possible.31 Only in case of an imminent US nuclear attack, would the Soviets take the initiative and launch massive pre-emptive attacks. This nuclear offensive would aim to destroy NATO’s war-fighting capabilities. The list of targets included political and military leadership, industrial and population centers, as well as the enemy nuclear forces.32 Air, missile, and civil defense measures would then reduce damage inflicted by the surviving NATO nuclear weapons. Austria-Hungary–Russia, 1890–1914 Austria-Hungary had an offensive attrition strategy in the pre-war years.33 Vienna planned to launch an immediate northward offensive from the western Galicia against the Russian concentrations between the Bug and Vistula Rivers. The First and Fourth Armies – Vienna’s main forces – would lead the attacks with support by the German Eighth Army in East Prussia. In the meantime, two weak Austro-Hungarian armies – the Second and the Third – would guard the eastern Galician front. The Minimal Group Balkan would keep Serbia at bay until the Russians were defeated. Offense–defense balance France–Germany, 1860–70 Contemporary technology favored the defense.34 This period saw a noticeable leap in firepower. Both armies adopted breech-loading rifles such as the German Dreyse “needle gun” and the superior French Chassepot, which markedly increased the rate, range, and accuracy of fire.35 The French also introduced the mitrailleuse, a rudimentary machine gun that could fire 150 rounds per minute and was effective up to 2,000 yards, while the Germans deployed effective breech-loading field guns made of steel.36 Moreover, as railroad networks expanded rapidly, the rivals integrated the strategic use of railroads into their war plans. Military planners had also studied trench warfare as employed during the American Civil War. Geography weakly favored the defender. The northern frontier from the Channel to the Sambre River was made up of difficult terrain such as canals and marshes.37 There was also the belt of neutral buffer states that could potentially help the defender. In the southern frontier, the Rhine River and the Vosges mountains enhanced defense as well. At the center, the Ardennes forests posed an obstacle to an advancing army. However, the flat hinterland was suitable for

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offensive operations, because the major rivers provided fine lines of communications into the French heartland and also protected the invading army’s flanks. The rivers also circumscribed the defending armies’ ability to support one another. Force-to-space ratios, however, favored the offense. The Franco-German border was about 360 kilometers long. For its defense, Germany deployed 11 army corps and 2 divisions besides Landwehr and cavalry divisions.38 Therefore, one German division needed to defend a segment of front longer than 10 kilometers on average. The French also had a sparse defense. As the French army could deploy eight corps along the border, each division would be spread out too thinly.39 Japan–Russia, 1880–1904 Technology gave the defender a considerable advantage. Firepower increased significantly as both armies equipped their troops with small-bore magazine rifles and improved machine guns. At the onset of war, the Russian army also introduced the new quick-firing field guns.40 Consequently, frontal attacks became too costly against well-prepared defensive positions.41 In addition, the opposing armies depended in large part on railroads for supplies, although regional rail networks were far from extensive. Geography also favored the defense. The Manchurian theater contained few roads and railways and a dense “jungle” of kao-liang (tall grain) which circumscribed movement and facilitated concealment.42 In the rainy season, most unpaved roads turned so muddy that only light carriages could barely pass through. Moreover, a significant body of water separated the Japanese Islands from Manchuria and the Russian mainland thereby making a direct invasion difficult. An attacker, however, could take advantage of the remarkably low force-tospace ratios. In the vast theater of operation, Japan deployed only 12 infantry divisions besides the Imperial Guard, 13 reserve brigades, and other supporting units.43 Russia stationed even smaller forces in the region during peacetime. The Russians entered the war with only 2 small Siberian corps in the Far Eastern theater or approximately 60,000 infantry, 3,000 cavalry, and 164 guns.44 Germany–Russia, 1890–1914 Given the tight Franco-Russian alliance, a Russo-German confrontation was likely to drag France in. Since the Germans calculated that France could be defeated more quickly and easily, they planned to strike first in the west even if war grew out of an eastern conflict. The German general staff thus regarded the Franco-German frontier as the main theater of operations. For this reason, I investigate the offense–defense balance between Germany and France rather than that between Germany and Russia. Technology strongly favored the defender in the theater of operations.45

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Increasingly, lethal machine guns and small arms could exact hefty costs from the attacker. As the French 75-mm field guns exemplified, artillery had reached a remarkable level of efficacy. This improved firepower made a successful frontal attack against the defense reinforced with trenches and barbed wires almost impossible. Moreover, railroad networks expanded to a remarkable extent and became the European armies’ main lines of communication. Geography also favored the defense. The theater of operations basically shared the same geographical features with that of the Franco-German War. The mixture of forests, mountains, rivers, and plains made defensive operations a bit easier on average. The belt of buffer states in the northern frontier further reinforced the defensive advantage. Both sides also faced very high force-to-space ratios. The Franco-German border extended for about 240 kilometers, where France could deploy 44 regular divisions and 12 reserve divisions.46 Meanwhile, Germany could field a larger force of 26 army corps and 13 reserve corps. Even when the Belgian frontier is added into the equation, force-to-space ratios would remain at high levels. The German army still had roughly 78 divisions spaced along a 360 km-long front.47 The Allies could deploy about 59 divisions during initial battles, as Britain contributed 6 infantry and 1 cavalry division and Belgium added 5 infantry and 1 cavalry division. Germany–Soviet Union, 1925–41 Technology favored the offense. Both armies had considerable numbers of reliable and effective tanks such as German Panzers III and IV and Soviet T-34s and KVs, respectively. Each army also organized large mechanized formations and developed an innovative doctrine of armored penetration. German strategists like Erich von Manstein and Heinz Guderian developed the blitzkrieg doctrine over the inter-war period and employed it with spectacular success during initial campaigns of the war.48 Meanwhile, the Soviet High Command made efforts to master a similar doctrine of “deep operations” building on Mikhail Tukhachevskii’s early strategic concepts.49 Force-to-space ratios also strongly favored the attacker. The western border of the Soviet Union ranged over 1,800 miles, that is, 2,880 kilometers.50 The Soviet High Command deployed 211 divisions to guard the frontier.51 Therefore, one Soviet division was responsible for about 13.6 kilometers on average, assuming that all the forces were deployed along the frontline with no strategic reserves. The Germans faced an even lower ratio of 14.5 kilometers per division given that they had 199 divisions in the theater. These ratios were far from appropriate for robust defense. Geography provided a defensive advantage, however. The theater of operations was so immense that the defender could exploit strategic depth thereby recovering from initial setbacks. Since the vast expanse of the Soviet Union contained only 40,000 miles of all weather roads and 51,000 miles of railroads, an invader would find it increasingly difficult to resupply its advancing forces.52

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There also existed rough terrain along the border regions. The central area contained the impassable barrier of the Pripiat Marshes. A belt of forests and lakes between the Dvina and Dnepr would ease the defender’s burden in the north.53 In the southern frontier, major rivers including the Dvina, Bug, and Dnepr formed natural barriers against an eastward advance.54 Russia–Germany, 1870–90 Technology favored the defense. Both armies purchased small-bore magazine rifles and improved machine guns,55 although fiscal austerity hampered Russia’s military modernization. Rail networks also expanded in both states, although the Germans were clearly winning the race of railroad construction over the fiscally stressed Russians.56 The Franco-German War had already demonstrated the importance of strategic railways and pushed all the European armies to make railway timetables an integral part of their war plans. Geography also favored the defender in the theater of operations.57 In East Prussia, the Masurian lakes and heavy woods hindered the Russian attackers from supporting one another.58 In the immediate interior, the Vistula River offered a natural barrier upon which the Germans could fall back and build a strong second line of defense.59 Force-to-space ratios, in contrast, were favorable for the attacker. The frontline was extremely long compared with the number of troops.60 The RussoGerman border was 750 kilometers long.61 To guard it, Russia had at its disposal 72 divisions in total including 48 active and 24 reserve infantry divisions in 1881.62 Since it was necessary to divert a significant portion of its forces to the other frontiers such as the Russo-Austrian border, the Russian High Command faced too low a force-to-space ratio to mount an effective defense. The German defense was even more sparse, as only 18 divisions were assigned to the theater in 1888.63 Britain–Germany, 1890–1914 Technology favored the defense. The combination of small-bore magazine rifles, machine guns, and quick-firing field guns made frontal assaults too costly. The wars in Manchuria and South Africa demonstrated that the defender could repel a much stronger attacker when the defense was reinforced with barbed wire and trenches. Britain and Germany also had the most extensive railroads in Europe and prepared elaborate plans for mobilization and concentration. The French territory, the most probable theater of war, contained an extensive network of railroads as well. Geography also provided a defensive advantage. The English Channel hindered both states from projecting military power effectively and thus made a direct invasion highly difficult.64 Although Britain could use its French ally’s territory as a staging area, the neutral buffer states and rough terrain including the Rhine River made the western German border quite defensible.

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In addition, force-to-space ratios favored the defense. In order to avoid violating Belgian neutrality, the British and German armies could attack each other only through the Franco-German border. Given that France was likely to join Britain, the opposing sides would deploy remarkably large forces along the 240 km-long front. In addition to the British Expeditionary Force of six infantry and one cavalry division, France had 44 regular divisions and 12 reserve divisions at its disposal; Germany could deploy 26 army corps and 13 reserve corps.65 Even in the event that the campaign extended into Belgian territory, force-to-space ratios would still remain high enough. The German army would then deploy about 78 divisions along a 360 km-long front. Assuming that the Belgians would side with Britain and France, the Allies could deploy about 59 divisions during the initial battles. Britain–United States, 1860–1914 Technology favored the defense between 1860 and 1914. Firepower steadily increased as infantry rifles, machine guns, and field artillery improved. This long period witnessed several wars in which armies could experience remarkable innovations in firearms either directly or indirectly. The Americans saw the attackers pay high costs during the Civil War. The British themselves could learn their own painful lessons during the Boer War. The Russo-Turkish War of 1877–78 and the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05 also presented good opportunities to gain second-hand experience of lethal firepower. The contemporary wars also revealed the strategic implications of railroads. The American Civil War saw the first use of railways for strategic purposes, and the Franco-Prussian War turned them into a decisive means for fighting. Geographical factors also favored the defender. Britain held a favorable geographic position to defend its territory from a US attack. First of all, the Atlantic Ocean hampered the US attack against the British Isles. The North American frontier also roughly coincided with natural barriers such as lakes and rivers, which assisted the defense of Canada. On the other hand, the same geographical factors also made it difficult for Britain to launch a successful offensive against the United States. Although Britain could have benefited from its local bases in North American operations, it would have proved to be a daunting task to supply for a war waged across the Atlantic Ocean. Force-to-space ratios, however, favored the offense along the US–Canadian frontier. The density of forces was remarkably low on both sides. The defense of the 1,500 km-long border depended mostly on British regulars, the peak number of which reached only 17,500 during the Trent Crisis of 1861–62. The United States had the peacetime high of 155,000 troops in 1913 and only 39,000 during the Venezuelan Crisis of 1895.66 Britain–Germany, 1925–39 Technology favored the offense as the advent of efficient tanks increased tactical mobility. Germany obviously played a leading role in developing mechanized

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formations and doctrines for modern mobile warfare. Also on the British side, considerable experimentation with armored warfare was conducted under the auspices of George Milne, the chief of the Imperial general staff, although the British army failed to deploy large mechanized units in peacetime. Britain also had forward-looking strategists such as B.H. Liddell Hart and J.F.C. Fuller, who saw the revolutionary potential in tanks. Geography, however, provided a significant defensive advantage. The English Channel rendered a direct German invasion of the British Isles impractical. It was also a significant obstacle to any British projection of military power onto the continent. Even in case Britain used French territory as a forward base for its offensive operations, the Franco-German border, the only politically viable avenue for attack, was not free of significant natural barriers. Force-to-space ratios also favored the defense as the opposing armies had more than enough forces to cover the frontier. Britain and France together could deploy 105 divisions in the spring of 1940 along the 360 km-long FrancoGerman border.67 When the Belgian and the Dutch forces are factored in, the Allies had at their disposal as many as 140 divisions along a 640 km-long front.68 Meanwhile, Germany had the potential to deploy 136 divisions in the western front. Japan–United States, 1933–41 Technology favored the offense during this period. The US and the Japanese armies went through steady mechanization, although they fell short of European standards. The United States organized the American Experimental Armored Force as early as 1928 and a “permanent” Mechanized Force in 1930.69 An autonomous Armored Force finally came into existence in 1940. Japan for its part produced 2,270 tanks between 1939 and 1941, although they were underarmed and armored and mainly supported the infantry.70 At sea, technology favored the attacker as well.71 The carrier-based airplanes made it possible to deliver a devastating blow against the defending fleet at or near its home base. Efficient landing crafts also made amphibious operation more effective. Geography favored the defense, however. The vast Pacific Ocean separated both states’ mainlands and their advance bases. As a result, it was necessary to cross a large body of water and launch costly amphibious assaults in order to attack the heart of enemy territory. On the other hand, the defender could use successive belts of islands as forward bases of operations and rely upon strategic depth. Force-to-space ratios mildly favored the defense as well. Both states apparently faced low force-to-space ratios in the theater of operations since naval defense perimeters and coastlines were too long to guard effectively at all points. However, actual ratios were more favorable to the defender than they appeared for two reasons. The defender could concentrate its ground and naval forces safely at a small number of strategically important islands and ports. In addition, the density of forces would become remarkably higher after any

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landing as the defender would throw in reinforcements against the narrow beachheads. United States–Soviet Union, 1946–61 This period witnessed the emergence of a defense-dominant world founded upon a revolutionary technology. The “nuclear revolution” rendered defensive missions so advantageous that “conquest among great powers became virtually impossible.”72 When the defender has a sizable nuclear arsenal, the attacker needs to reduce the enemy’s retaliatory capability to an insignificant level before attempting conquest. On the other hand, the defender can deter aggression only if it can inflict unacceptable damage to the attacker after absorbing a surprise attack. The unique character of nuclear weapons makes the possibility of a successful first strike highly remote, while making it relatively easy to maintain a credible retaliatory capability at a highly affordable price. The stabilizing effect of nuclear technology, however, did not fully materialize yet in this period since the Soviet Union was slow to acquire a credible retaliatory capability. Defensive advantages at the conventional level supplemented the nuclear dimension. Geography favored the defense. The Soviet Union could build a strong defense by exploiting its vast strategic depth and rough terrain in Eastern Europe and its western regions. This theater of operation also contained sparse roads and railways that had been badly damaged during the World War thereby posing a daunting obstacle to an allied offensive operation on the ground.73 In addition, force-to-space ratios favored the defense as the Soviet Union alone could deploy a staggering 175-division army along the 725-km-long front.74 These defense-enhancing factors were powerful enough to offset any offensive advantage that large mechanized formations equipped with efficient tanks might provide. Soviet Union–United States, 1970–85 The offense–defense balance strongly favored the defender in this period. As the United States and the Soviet Union fully realized the potential of nuclear technology, both states could deploy survivable retaliatory forces thereby building stable mutual deterrence. In addition, there existed large defensive advantages at the conventional level. First, geography favored the defense. The obstacle-ridden terrain of Central Europe would have helped NATO thwart a Soviet attempt for blitzkrieg. The inter-German border area and its interior contained a number of mountains, rivers, bogs, and urban sprawl, which would have slowed or canalized the attacking forces.75 Even in the case of a Soviet victory in Europe, the Atlantic Ocean would have made a further invasion of the US mainland nearly out of the question. Second, force-to-space ratios also favored the defense as NATO fielded relatively large forces along the 725-km-long front.76 Given that a brigade can hold a

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7–15-km-long front for a considerable time, NATO had enough forces along the entire front to prevent the attacker from winning breakthrough battles. Finally, the technological environment added another defensive advantage. The proliferation of precision-guided munitions (PGMs) further shifted the offense–defense balance in favor of defense in this period.77 Highly accurate PGMs posed a grave threat against armored vehicles and close air support aircraft, which were two vital pillars of modern mobile operations. Consequently, the attacker was pressured to rely heavily on combined-arms tactics and artillery only to lose operational mobility to a significant extent. France–Germany, 1880–1914 France faced a defense-favoring environment. See “Germany–Russia, 1890–1914” under “Offense–defense balance” for details. France–Germany, 1929–39 The advent of efficient tanks increased tactical mobility thereby changing technological balance to an attacker’s advantage. France considered tanks as an important weapon and deployed a greater number of tanks than Germany did by 1940.78 Some French models were of superior design compared with German tanks. Although France, unlike Germany, failed to develop adequate formations and doctrines for mechanized warfare, the French army had its own share of innovative strategists including Charles de Gaulle. Geography, however, provided a defensive advantage. The theater contained significant obstacles to offensive operations. The Rhine River posed a natural barrier to a French offensive into the German heartland; the buffer states – Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands – and the Ardennes forests reinforced the right flank of German defense. A German offensive operation would also need to negotiate a successive belt of rivers and forests in the French border region. Force-to-space ratios also favored the defender as the opposing armies had sufficient forces to set up dense frontier defenses. For details, see “Britain– Germany, 1925–39” under “Offense–defense balance.” Austria-Hungary–Russia, 1890–1914 Austria-Hungary had defense-favoring technologies available during this period. The Austro-Hungarian army could rely upon extensive, if less efficient, railways79 and benefit from weapons of enhanced firepower. A small-bore magazine rifle named the Mannlicher was already introduced in 1886, and quickfiring artillery followed.80 Geography also favored the defender. The Carpathian Mountains and a series of rivers – the San and Dniester and the Danube farther back – blocked approaches to Vienna.81

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A low force-to-space ratio provided a sole offensive advantage. The Russian frontline extended 440 kilometers, along which Austria-Hungary could deploy 39 divisions.82 Although the coding used here is more comprehensive and systematic than those found in the existing literature, one might wonder how different codings of the offense–defense balance would affect our evaluation of offense–defense theory. The fact is that the evaluation of the data offered here is quite robust to variable coding procedures. In spite of the concept’s popularity, only a few scholars have attempted to measure the offense–defense balance systematically across multiple cases.83 Among them, Stephen Van Evera’s work stands out as the most prominent.84 Table A.1 lists the number of correct predictions that offense–defense theory makes when his codings are used and compares the results with the assessments offered in Chapter 6. Van Evera’s codings of the diplomatic offense–defense balance are omitted in order to avoid introducing a number of confounding factors. Military power Military power is measured with a composite index of defense personnel and expenditure. I first calculate each state’s proportional shares of the two resources possessed by all great powers and then take the average across the two areas.85 Tables A.2 and A.3 present the computed scores of great powers between 1860 and 1985. I code the decliner as having marked military superiority if the state is at least 10 percent stronger than the riser and its most powerful (potential) ally. France–Germany, 1860–70 France held marked military superiority over Germany on the eve of war. In 1870, France was 40 percent stronger than Germany and had a 137 percent advantage vis-à-vis Britain – the “balancer” of Europe.

Table A.1 Testing offense–defense theory using alternative codings Coding

Number of correct predictions on declining states’ behavior

Objective military balance (Dong Sun Lee) Objective military balance (Stephen Van Evera) Perceived military balance (Stephen Van Evera)

5 6 5

Source: S. Van Evera, Causes of War: Power and the Roots of Conflict, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, pp. 169–79, 182–3, especially Table 3 (p. 171).

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Table A.2 Distribution of military power, 1860–1941 Year

USA

Britain

France

Germany Austria

Italy

Russia

Japan

1860 1865 1870 1875 1880 1885 1890 1895 1900 1904 1910 1914 1925 1930 1935 1939 1941

4.0 28.8 4.9 5.5 4.9 3.9 4.7 4.5 8.0 8.5 9.6 3.4 13.9 11.5 6.6 3.9 10.3

19.0 13.3 11.5 13.4 12.5 17.2 13.0 13.9 24.7 14.3 13.3 17.1 15.7 11.3 6.6 15.7 15.9

24.5 17.3 27.2 19.9 22.3 21.4 20.4 18.3 14.5 13.8 15.0 16.4 14.8 13.2 10.1 5.6 1.5

6.2 5.8 19.6 15.8 15.2 15.2 19.0 17.3 14.4 14.9 16.8 21.0 4.6 3.9 12.8 38.4 44.0

8.9 7.0 6.2 6.6 6.4 8.5 8.6 7.8 5.6 5.7 6.2 4.0 8.7 9.5 17.3 5.0 0.5

26.1 19.5 22.2 27.3 28.3 23.3 22.8 23.6 21.8 23.0 25.8 18.9 33.1 42.2 40.8 22.0 17.1

0.2 n/a 0.2 1.6 1.5 1.6 2.3 6.2 4.5 12.8 6.1 3.7 9.2 8.3 5.8 9.3 10.7

11.2 8.4 8.2 9.9 8.9 9.0 9.2 8.4 6.6 7.0 7.2 15.5 n/a n/a n/a n/a n/a

Japan–Russia, 1880–1904 Japan’s military power remained inferior to Russia’s throughout this period. Japan merely had 60 percent of Russian military strength in 1904. Germany–Russia, 1890–1914 Germany entered the Great War with military superiority. In 1914, Germany possessed 111 percent of Russian strength and outdistanced France by 28 percent. Table A.3 Distribution of military power, 1946–85 Year

United States

Soviet Union

1946 1949 1952 1955 1958 1961 1964 1967 1970 1973 1976 1979 1982 1985

68.6 39.8 52.8 44.9 49.1 47.9 48.1 54.3 48.3 42.0 38.0 38.0 40.8 38.4

31.4 60.2 47.2 55.1 50.9 52.1 51.9 45.7 51.7 58.0 62.0 62.0 59.2 61.6

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Germany–Soviet Union, 1925–41 Germany was markedly more powerful than the Soviet Union at the onset of war. In 1941, the Germans enjoyed a stunning 156 percent lead in military strength. Germany also held marked superiority over its other adversary, Britain. The Germans held a 176 percent advantage. Russia–Germany, 1870–90 The Russians had a marked military advantage over the Germans between 1872 and 1886. For example, Russia’s military power was 54 percent greater in 1885. Russia also outdistanced Austria-Hungary by far in both manpower and expenditure throughout the decade. In 1880, the Russians deployed as many as 233 percent more troops and spent about twice as much on defense; in total, Russia’s military strength was approximately three times Austria-Hungary’s. Britain–Germany, 1890–1914 Britain remained more or less inferior to Germany in military power throughout this period. Though the British held a temporary lead between 1900 and 1902, it was almost impossible to attack Germany at that time because British forces were bogged down in South Africa. In 1914, Britain’s military power amounted to only 81 percent of Germany’s. Britain–United States, 1860–1914 Britain remained markedly superior to the United States except during the American Civil War. For instance, the British had as many as 692 percent more troops and spent 135 percent more on defense during the Venezuelan Crisis of 1895. However, Britain never held a considerable military edge over its thirdparty rivals. For example, France which was the most likely to intervene in a North American war until about 1904 had 90 percent more troops and an almost equal defense budget in 1895. Britain was superior to France only during the period when the former was involved in the Boer War and practically unable to fight against the Americans. After the conclusion of Entente Cordiale, Germany became Britain’s most formidable adversary. In this period, the British never held a military advantage vis-à-vis the Germans. Britain–Germany, 1925–39 Britain was markedly inferior to Germany when the war started in 1939: Britain had only 41 percent of German military power.

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163

Japan–United States, 1933–41 Japan lacked marked military superiority over the United States in 1941. In that year, the Japanese held a meager 4 percent military advantage over the Americans. United States–Soviet Union, 1946–61 The United States possessed more than twice Soviet military power in 1946. After a brief period of post-war demobilization, the United States reclaimed a superior position over the course of the Korean War. In 1952, for example, the Americans held a 12 percent advantage over the Soviets. Although this advantage diminished in the later years, the United States still maintained rough parity which, according to Copeland, was supposedly enough to trigger a preventive war in a bipolar system. Soviet Union–United States, 1970–85 The Soviet Union held a marked military edge from 1972 onward. In this year, the Soviets deployed 46 percent more troops and spent 15 percent more on defense thereby achieving a 29 percent combined advantage. The gap steadily widened and reached 61 percent by 1985. France–Germany, 1880–1914 The French military was inferior at the outbreak of war. In 1914, Germany held a 28 percent advantage according to the composite index. France–Germany, 1929–39 France had inferior military power on the onset of war: Germany had over 6 times French military power in 1939 and 1.5 times its 1940 strength. However, French military was markedly superior until 1933. Austria-Hungary–Russia, 1890–1914 Austria-Hungary remained inferior to Russia throughout this period. The Russian military was 2.5 times more powerful than its Austro-Hungarian rival in 1890 and steadily gained relative power over the remainder of the period. Power transition or parity The overall power balance is coded mainly using the data presented in Table A.4. Sources will be cited when other data are used as supplements. Using different data and indicators does not significantly affect the overall performance of power transition theory.86

164

Appendix

Table A.4 Percentage distribution of gross national product (GNP) among major powers Year

United States

Japan

Germany

United Kingdom

Russia/ Soviet Union

France

1870 1880 1890 1900 1913 1925 1938 1950 1960 1970 1980

19.6 26.1 28.2 30.6 36.0 42.5 36.3 50.0 42.5 40.7 36.6

6.7 5.4 5.0 5.3 5.5 8.0 9.2 5.0 7.8 11.3 16.8

16.8 16.3 15.7 16.4 17.0 12.2 15.0 7.1 9.2 11.6 11.2

19.3 17.5 19.3 17.8 14.3 12.6 11.7 10.6 8.6 6.3 5.4

19.8 19.1 17.7 17.1 16.9 15.1 20.8 20.1 24.8 21.5 21.8

17.8 15.6 14.1 12.8 10.3 9.6 7.0 7.2 7.1 8.6 8.2

Source: Reprinted with permission from Handbook of War Studies, 1993, ed. Manus I. Midlarsky. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, p. 181.

France–Germany, 1860–70 The war of 1870–71 broke out as Germany caught up with France. Germany’s GNP was approximately 94 percent of France’s in 1870. Japan–Russia, 1880–1904 Power shifts led to war in 1904 despite an overwhelming power imbalance. Japan possessed only 31 percent of Russia’s GNP in 1900.87 Germany–Russia, 1890–1914 Germany and Russia had approximately equal GNPs right before the onset of war. Germany–Soviet Union, 1925–41 War broke out in 1941 even though the Soviet Union had preponderant power. Germany produced 72 percent of Soviet Russia’s GNP in 1938; Germany’s GNP was only 69 percent of Russia’s by 1940, according to the War Ledger Data. Contrary to Organski and Kugler’s claim, the Soviet Union never overtook Germany during this period.88 As early as 1925, Russia had 24 percent larger GNP than Germany. Russia also maintained a markedly larger GDP throughout the period, as Germany never had greater than 60 percent of Russia’s GDP. Only Paul Bairoch’s GNP data indicate that the Soviet Union overtook Germany sometime in the 1929–33 period.89 However, the same data also suggest that Germany regained superiority by 1938.

Appendix

165

Japan–United States, 1933–41 Japan attacked the United States in 1941 despite its marked economic inferiority. In 1938, Japan had only a quarter of the United States’ GNP; Japan’s GDP amounted to 19 percent of its adversary’s in 1941. Britain–United States, 1860–1914 The United States overtook Britain in this period, but no war occurred. The United States had only 70 percent of Britain’s GDP in 1850.90 However, the rivals’ GNPs were about equal in 1870, and the United States clearly had surpassed Britain by 1880. The United States had 46 percent larger GNP than Britain in 1890. Russia–Germany, 1870–90 The power balance measured in terms of GNP remained in rough parity during this period, and no war occurred. Germany maintained roughly 85 percent of Russia’s GNP in 1870; the ratio increased to 89 percent by 1890. Austria-Hungary–Russia, 1890–1914 Vienna never reached parity with St. Petersburg in terms of GNP.91 In 1890, Austria-Hungary had 60 percent of Russian GNP, while this figure fell to 50 percent by 1913. France–Germany, 1880–1914 Power transition did not occur in this period, and power parity did not exist at the onset of war. The rising Germany already had 104 percent of France’s GNP in 1880 and steadily increased its power edge over time. By 1913, German power amounted to 165 percent of France’s. Britain–Germany, 1890–1914 Germany started war in 1914 as it overtook Britain. Germany’s GNP amounted to 81 percent of Britain’s in 1890. Germany narrowed the gap to 92 percent by 1900 and then surpassed Britain by 1913. France–Germany, 1929–39 This dyad witnessed neither transition nor parity in power: France had 79 percent of German GNP in 1925 but only 47 percent by 1938.

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Appendix

Britain–Germany, 1925–39 Germany overtook Britain early in this period, and war broke out in the end. Whereas Germany had a slightly smaller GNP in 1925, it produced 28 percent more by 1938. United States–Soviet Union, 1946–61 The United States never allowed the Soviet Union to overtake or reach parity with it. Moscow had only 40 percent of Washington’s GNP in 1950, while the figure merely increased to 58 percent by 1960. Soviet Union–United States, 1970–85 The United States maintained a preponderant position throughout this period. The Soviet Union had only 53 percent of its rival’s GNP in 1970 and 60 percent in 1980. In 1985, Soviet Russia’s GDP amounted to 39 percent of the United States’. War initiators France–Germany, 1860–70 The COW data set codes France as initiator of the Franco-German War. Japan–Russia, 1880–1904 The COW data set codes Japan as initiating the war of 1904–05. Germany–Russia, 1890–1914 Germany brought Russia and France into a war which it alone wanted.92 Its primary goal was to destroy growing Russian power. The German army nevertheless attacked France first believing that a two-front war was inevitable and a decisive victory would be easier to achieve in the west. Even though Russia encroached German territory first in the east, it is clear that the Russian offensive merely aimed to rescue the French ally under German attack. Germany–Soviet Union, 1925–41 Nazi Germany launched a premeditated surprise attack on 22 June 1941. The Soviet Union made great efforts to avoid war until the last moment.93

Appendix

167

Japan–United States, 1933–41 Imperial Japan launched a premeditated surprise attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941. Although the US oil embargo in part provoked the raid, it was imposed and maintained for the defensive purpose of strengthening deterrence. Washington did not want a war in the Pacific. Austria-Hungary–Russia, 1890–1914 The COW data set codes Austria-Hungary as initiating World War I. France–Germany, 1880–1914 The German army moved into Luxembourg (on 2 August) and Belgium (on 3 August) with a clear intention to invade France, before the French army attacked the German forces in southern Alsace on 6 August 1914.94 Britain–Germany, 1890–1914 The Germany army first attacked the British Expeditionary Forces guarding the left flank of the French army. Britain only declared war after Germany had disregarded its warnings and moved to attack its ally, France. France–Germany, 1929–39 See “Britain–Germany, 1925–39” under “War initiators.” Britain–Germany, 1925–39 Although Britain declared war first in September 1939, the actual war broke out when the Wehrmacht attacked the British Expeditionary Forces and French forces on 10 May 1941. In addition, it was Hitler’s Germany alone that desired and actively sought war.

Notes

1 Introduction 1 Thucydides, 1972, p. 49. On his theory of war, see Gilpin, 1988, pp. 15–30. 2 Howard, 1984, p. 18. 3 Power shifts refer to significant changes in the balance of military, economic, or potential power. The rising state may be already more powerful than the declining state at the beginning of power shifts; the former may not necessarily catch up with the latter in terms of aggregate power at their end. Power shifts also result from changing alliance configuration, weakening or strengthening allies, as well as differential rates of internal growth between the riser and the decliner themselves. “Power transition” is a subset of power shifts with two characteristics: (1) the rising state surpasses the declining state in terms of aggregate power and (2) the riser catches up relying mostly on internal means such as industrialization. 4 For projections on China’s growth, see Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 396–400. How rich China can grow is the subject of a heated debate. Less optimistic commentators point out oversized and aging population, increasing inequality, and political corruption – to name a few – as major obstacles to China’s sustained economic development. For example, see Pei, 2005. 5 Bush, 2002, p. 27. 6 Sagan, 1995, pp. 55–66. Also see Schelling, 1966, pp. 248–51. 7 More precisely, war is likely when the declining state has a maneuver strategy that holds a reasonable chance of success. This qualification is omitted in the following discussion, since in the real world few states adopt a maneuver strategy perceiving that its success is highly unlikely. 8 Gilpin, 1981, Chapter 5; Levy, 1987; Vagts, 1956, Chapter 8. 9 Van Evera, 1999, pp. 76–9. 10 Ibid., p. 73; Powell, 1999, p. 134. 11 It is important to distinguish power from military capability. I define power in terms of material resources including military forces, economic and industrial assets, and population. Military capability refers to the ability to win war at acceptable cost. Although power is an important ingredient of military capability, they are not identical. Military capability also depends crucially upon how power is employed, that is, strategy. For similar distinction, see Glaser, 1994/95, pp. 60–4; Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 57–60. 12 Drimmer, 1991, pp. 24–5, 44–5. 13 This study excludes two widely known theories of “power cycles” and war. Long cycle theory argues that shifts in the balance of naval power lead to periodical contests for global leadership. I rule this theory out since it fails to specify the conditions under which the shifts result in war or peace. Power cycle theory posits that individual states’ shares of world power continuously follow cyclical patterns of change

Notes

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

35 36 37

38 39

169

and that such power cycles affect the probability of war. According to this theory, war is likely when at least one major state goes through “critical points” of its power cycle. I exclude this theory since it does not offer precise predictions regarding when changes in relative power pass peacefully. Although the theory argues that states can still make peaceful adjustments even at their “critical points,” it fails to specify when and how this is possible. Nor does it consider states’ opportunities for war adequately. On these theories, see Doran, 1989; Modelski and Thompson, 1989. Lemke and Kugler, 1996, p. 21. Ibid. Copeland, 2000. For the theory’s logic on preventive war, see Van Evera, 1998, pp. 9–10. Van Evera, 1999, p. 129. Lemke and Kugler, 1996, pp. 22–3. Copeland, 2000, pp. 13–14. Kugler and Organski, 1989, p. 187. DiCicco and Levy, 1999, pp. 694–8. Organski and Kugler, 1980, pp. 33–4. Biddle, 2004, pp. 20–3; Maoz, 1989. DiCicco and Levy, 1999, pp. 698–9. Copeland, 2000, p. 16. Arreguin-Toft, 2001; Mearsheimer, 1983; Paul, 1994. Karber et al., 1979. See Blainey, 1973, Chapter 3. Copeland, 2000, pp. 49–50. Jervis, 1978, p. 178. I borrow this selection rule from Pape, 2001. Kennedy, 1987, pp. xxii–xxiv; Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 55–75; Morgenthau, 1948, pp. 134–5. Overall military balance in turn shapes the balance of deployed forces that rivals earmark for use against each other. Adverse shifts in the latter may be the most immediate security concern since they affect states’ odds and costs of victory directly. Unless decline in deployed forces have deep roots in economic and military trends, however, states can expect to correct them over time with relative ease. Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 5, 404. Walt, 1987. On the problem of selecting cases on the dependent variable and resultant selection bias, see Achen and Snidal, 1989; Geddes, 1990; King et al., 1994, pp. 137–41. Also see Collier and Mahoney, 1996. Notable works that suffer from this problem include Copeland, 2000; Gilpin, 1981; Schweller, 1992. Powell, 1999, pp. 146–7. This method is dubbed “process tracing.” See George and McKeown, 1985, pp. 34–41; Van Evera, 1997, pp. 64–7.

2 A strategic theory of preventive war 1 On limited aims strategies, see Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 53–8. On punishment strategies, see Posen, 1984, p. 14; Stam, 1996. 2 Reiter, 1999, p. 368 n. 2. 3 Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 110–14. 4 Clausewitz, 1976, pp. 75, 90–9, 227–35. 5 Ibid., p. 97. 6 Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 33–5. 7 Ibid. Also see Luttwak, 1987, pp. 92–3.

170 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

18 19 20 21

22 23 24 25 26 27

28

29 30

Notes

Liddell Hart, 1967, pp. 324–5. Luttwak, 1987, pp. 94–6. Sun Tzu, 1963, p. 77. Italics added. Clausewitz, 1976, p. 228. Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 58–60. Ibid., p. 36; Van Creveld, 1985, pp. 2, 5–6. Liddell Hart, 1967, pp. 326–9. Powell, 1995, p. 774. US Army, 1986, pp. 101–3. Although this manual distinguishes “envelopment” from “turning movement,” both concepts concern turning the enemy defense around and can be collapsed into one type of maneuver. The maneuver strategy combining this method with tanks is often called a “blitzkrieg strategy.” For a detailed discussion, see Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 35–43; US Army, 1986, pp. 103–5. Although its proponents sometimes take force employment into account, it is impossible to confuse offense–defense theory with my argument. Whereas their analytic focus is on tactics employed in breakthrough battles, mine is on a higher level of force employment – operational art. A breakthrough battle is only an initial if essential part of penetration-maneuver and is unnecessary for flanking-maneuver and attrition. Therefore, military strategy cannot be simply reduced to tactical choices that military organizations make. See Biddle, 2001. On the German strategy of 1940, see Mearsheimer, 1983, Chapter 4. Handel, 2001, pp. 231–3; Mearsheimer, 1981/82. Sun Tzu, 1963, p. 84. For a similar view from Frederick the Great, see Chaliand, 1994, p. 605. By strategic deception, I refer to both passive and active deception. The former concerns denying the opponent the accurate knowledge of one’s military strategy and is based on secrecy and camouflage. On the other hand, the latter involves misleading the adversary into false beliefs by providing misinformation. See Handel, 1982, pp. 133–4. Sun Tzu, 1963, p. 134. Also see Liddell Hart, 1967, pp. 329–30. Chaliand, 1994, p. 602. Luttwak, 1980/81, pp. 71–2. Ibid., 65. Antal, 1992, pp. 28–33. The opportunity for war has attracted the most attention from the maneuver/attrition literature. The existing scholarship analyzes how different strategies shape the cost and chance of victory and thus states’ decision for war. In short, it is built largely on the logic of deterrence. For example, Mearsheimer argues: “The blitzkrieg is clearly the most desirable of the three strategies and therefore the one most likely to lead to a deterrence failure.” Dan Reiter also argues that a maneuver strategy “makes conflict more attractive by raising expected benefits and lowering expected costs.” See Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 63–4; Reiter, 1999, p. 372. Some scholars do not believe that a favorable military opportunity is a crucial condition for preventive war. They argue that the declining state may start a war of desperation even when its chance of victory appears slim. Whether this assertion is true is an important empirical question. My case studies later show that declining states actually view a favorable military opportunity as a precondition for war. After analyzing a number of preventive wars, Alan Drimmer also reports: “[declining states] pay very close attention to the battlefield conditions with the adversary and do not begin war without a plan for victory.” See Drimmer, 1991, pp. 25, 286–7; Levy, 1987, pp. 99–100. On third-party military intervention, see Haldi, 2003. Carter Malkasian posits: “attrition is best defined as a gradual and piecemeal process

Notes

171

of destroying an enemy’s military capability.” Although it is agreed that attrition rarely produces swift results, Malkasian is mistaken to argue that a war of attrition is protracted by design. To say the least, no attacker will ever delay the conclusion of war deliberately. An attrition strategy results in a long drawn-out war because of its common defects. See Malkasian, 2002, pp. 6–8. 31 Clausewitz argues: the importance of the victory is chiefly determined by the vigor with which the immediate pursuit is carried out. In other words, pursuit makes up the second act of the victory and in many cases more important than the first. 32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

49 50 51 52

On exploitation and pursuit, see Clausewitz, 1976, pp. 263–70. Quote from p. 267. Mearsheimer, 1983, p. 34. Clausewitz, 1976, p. 228. Italics original. On the balancing tendency among states, see Walt, 1987; Waltz, 1979, pp. 116–28. Clausewitz admits: “the method of destruction cannot fail to be expensive.” See Clausewitz, 1976, p. 97. Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 34–5, 63–4. For example, the excess demand for manpower during World War II presented the opportunity for women and African-Americans to improve their socioeconomic positions. My point here is not that such changes are costly and undesirable in light of social progress but that contemporary political leadership may have perceived considerable social costs at that time. See Stein, 1980, pp. 23–4. Ibid., Chapter 1. Belligerents sometimes trade with one another, however. See Levy and Barbieri, 2004. Gholz and Press, 2001. Liddell Hart, 1967, pp. 326–7. Luttwak, 1987, p. 94. Handel, 1982, p. 137. Sheffield, 1988, pp. 64–5. On culminating point, see Clausewitz, 1976, p. 528. This definition of diplomacy is coined from Aron, 1966, p. 24. Morgenthau, 1948, pp. 361–3. Fearon, 1995, pp. 386–90; Morrow, 1985. Some scholars argue that few bargains can be achieved in the presence of power shifts because an international agreement is rarely enforceable. “It is extremely unlikely that any level of concessions exists that would be both sufficient for the preventer and reasonable for the challenger,” argues Jack Levy, “The very fact that the declining state knows that the rising adversary will probably be able to regain any concession later makes the former less likely to accept those concessions.” Jonathan Kirshner also asserts “a discounting of the future . . . may dramatically restrict the number of mutually acceptable agreements in cases involving preventive war, rising and declining states, and bargaining across time.” See Levy, 1987, pp. 96–7; Kirshner, 2000, p. 145. Fearon, 1995, pp. 391–5. US Army, 1986, p. 96. Sun Tzu, 1963, pp. 66, 102–6. Critics may argue that rational states will assume that their opponents adopt a maneuver strategy. Of course, a prudent state may likely devise its defense plan under the safe assumption that the adversary has an intent to adopt a maneuver strategy. Accordingly, the state will survey force disposition and terrain and strengthen the defense opposite the probable main axis of attack. In the end, such careful planning will often convince the defender that the opponent cannot employ a maneuver strategy with reasonable confidence. Therefore, despite its conservative assumption about the enemy’s strategic intent, even a prudent state will rarely believe that the opponent

172

53 54

55

56 57 58 59 60

61

62 63

Notes

is capable of implementing a maneuver strategy successfully. Consequently, the state often cannot offer sufficient compensation to the potential attacker that believes that a successful maneuver strategy is possible for some reasons. For example, NATO rightly assumed that the Warsaw Pact would try a penetration-maneuver if the Cold War turned hot. However, analysts believed that such an attempt would be checked by counter-measures that NATO devised under the safe working assumption. Handel, 2001, p. 226. A comparison of defensive and offensive counter-maneuver strategies provides an insight on pre-emption. The offensive variant creates a strong motive for pre-emption, whereas the defensive variant reduces any such motive. When the offensive variant is adopted, it is critical to strike first thereby gaining the initiative. Since both sides’ weak spots are left open, whoever delivers a first blow gains a decisive advantage. In contrast, a defensive maneuver strategy intends to strike only after the bulk of enemy forces steps into the pre-set “trap.” For its success, therefore, patience is a crucial virtue. A strong pre-emptive incentive may hinder diplomatic negotiation during crisis by imposing time pressure, while bargaining can be more successful when patience provides a strategic advantage. According to Jack Levy, this kind of compensation is impractical because the rising state will not barter away all the benefits of power shifts. However, his argument is based on a false assumption that a successful settlement requires the rising state to give up all its gains. A mutually beneficial bargain can be reached if the riser compensates for its adversary’s loss of military capability less fighting costs. In other words, the rising state can offer sufficient concessions to its opponent and still keep the benefits of a power increase that are equivalent in value to the fighting costs. See Levy, 1987, p. 96. Morgenthau, 1948, pp. 195–6. Waltz, 1979, Chapter 6. Van Evera, 1999, pp. 129–31. Liberman, 2000. In his insightful research, T.V. Paul showed that forced changes in military strategy can imbue states with a strong motive for preventive attack but overlooked the possibility that power shifts can cause such shifts in strategy. See Paul, 1994, pp. 24–30, 167–72; Paul, 1995, pp. 273–5. After an extensive historical survey, Randall Schweller concludes that an opening window of vulnerability alone rarely prompted preventive wars, which most often were an attempt to exploit a closing window of opportunity. See Schweller, 1999, pp. 8–9. The complexity of modern warfare has led the professional officer corps to virtually monopolize necessary skills for the “management of violence.” See Huntington, 1957, pp. 11–14. Offense–defense theorists may reject my assumption that victors can often extract significant gains from losers. According to them, the “cumulativity of resources” varies across time and space, and conquest frequently does not pay. The postindustrial age is bound to witness more of such cases because occupation constrains free flows of information on which the creation of wealth depends heavily. Less wealth means smaller spoils for the conqueror. I argue that even if the post-industrial age is indeed qualitatively different from the previous eras, a quick and decisive victory will still pay more often than not. The victor can simply impose a sizable indemnity on the disarmed loser thereby avoiding allegedly high occupation costs and significant losses in economic efficiency. Intermittent threat or punishment will probably be sufficient to enforce the peace agreement. Even when occupation is unavoidable, gains will still outweigh costs for the conqueror. Even in the post-industrial age, major powers will have arms production plants, farms, and mines, which can boost the victor’s resources. Moreover, the

Notes

64 65 66 67 68

69 70

71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

82 83

84 85

173

loser’s loss of economic efficiency may not be necessarily a bad thing for the victor since this may give the victor the opportunity to penetrate the loser’s markets. On “cumulativity,” see Liberman, 1996; Van Evera, 1999, Chapter 5. As Robert McNamara defined it, an assured destruction meant destroying 20–33 percent of population and 50–75 percent of industrial capacity after absorbing a surprise first strike. Freedman, 1989, pp. 246–9. On geographical proximity and the danger of blowback fallout, see Seng, 1997, pp. 66–7. Luttwak, 1980/81, p. 66. Gray, 1979. John Steinbruner argues: “complete decapitation . . . is probably the only imaginable route to decisive victory in nuclear war.” Bruce Blair views that the US C3 system was vulnerable to such a Soviet attack during the Cold War. See Blair, 1985; Steinbruner, 1981/1982. As the size of the enemy arsenal gets larger, the chance of successful decapitation tends to diminish. When there are tens of thousands of deployed warheads, even uncoordinated retaliation can still wreck an unacceptable havoc upon the attacker’s society, and therefore a nuclear maneuver strategy needs to guarantee almost complete strategic paralysis in order to be successful. When the enemy’s arsenal is small, however, a disruptive strike may suffice to cripple the victim’s punishment capability. A nuclear attrition strategy is most similar to what is called a “splendid first strike” strategy. A nuclear attrition strategy may not dissuade its owner from initiating a preventive war, if nuclear balance is so lopsided as to enable a “splendid first strike” against its opponents. However, such unbalance is only rarely present and does not last for a long time since major states are willing and able to restore the nuclear balance. See Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 129–30. Holmes, 2001, pp. 434, 542. For further discussion of these methods, see Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 88–90. Mahan uses “exhaustion” to depict the goal of a commerce-destruction strategy such as naval blockade. See Mahan, 1942, p. 96. This classification of air strategies is borrowed from Robert Pape except where mentioned otherwise. See Pape, 1996, Chapter 3. Holmes, 2001, p. 544. Warden, 1992. On the ineffectiveness of decapitation strategies, see Pape, 1996. Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 90–4, 99–108. Mearsheimer, 1983, p. 102. Clausewitz, 1976, p. 102. Malkasian reports: “Conceptually, attrition was an ad hoc alternative to established doctrine . . . Generals usually sought to ensure that wars would be short and cheap; only when these ends were unattainable were indecisive strategies of attrition conceived.” Malkasian, 2002, pp. 219–21. Holmes, 2001, pp. 106, 542. My emphasis on leadership dovetails with Daniel Byman and Kenneth Pollack’s insightful discussion on statesmanship and its far-reaching consequences on international relations. There are, however, notable differences between my argument and theirs. First, I focus on the qualities of military strategists (e.g., chiefs of general staffs Afred von Schliffen and Joseph Joffre), while Byman and Pollack examine those of political leaders (e.g., Chancellor Otto von Bismarck). Second, I explain the making of military strategy and its impact on decision to fight wars, whereas the authors do not. See Byman and Pollack, 2001. Luttwak, 1979. Luttwak, 1987, pp. 97–9.

174 86 87 88 89

Notes

Ibid., p. 98. Holmes, 2001, p. 544. Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998, p. 55. “Everything the enemy least expects will succeed the best,” Frederick the Great argued, If he relies for security on a chain of mountains that he believes impracticable, and your pass these mountains by roads unknown to him, he is confused to start with [and] will not have time to recover from his consternation. (Chaliand, 1994, p. 606).

90 See Appendix. 91 Betts, 1999. 92 See Liddell Hart, 1967; Mearsheimer, 1983; Reiter, 1999; Stam, 1996, pp. 145–7. Also see Table 6.2. 93 Malkasian, 2002. 3 The Russo-German rapprochement, 1870–90 1 2 3 4

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Fuller, 1992, p. 299. Ibid., p. 305. Rich, 1998, p. 165. In the event that Germany concentrated its forces in the west, Russia might launch an early offensive into East Prussia. Such an operation would be attrition-based and consist of successive frontal assaults on German troops. Russian planners did not take this contingency plan seriously, since an offensive of this kind was likely to result in high casualties and was also vulnerable to a German maneuver. Perhaps most importantly, the Russians had no great expectation that the Germans would strip down their eastern defenses in the event of war. Fuller, 1992, pp. 347–50. Menning, 1992, pp. 117–18. Geyer, 1987, p. 67. Rich, 1998, p. 93. Holborn, 1962, p. 392. Rich, 1998, p. 160. Geyer, 1987, p. 102. GNP figures are drawn from Bairoch, 1976. Calleo, 1978, p. 14. Figures on iron/steel production and energy consumption are based on Singer and Small, 1993. Pinter, 1986, p. 365. Geyer, 1987, p. 112. Menning, 1992, pp. 104–6. Fuller, 1961, p. 134; Menning, 1992, p. 104. Rich, 1998, p. 161. Ibid., p. 203; Baumann, 2002, p. 142. Fuller, 1992, p. 299. LeDonne, 1997, pp. 270–1. Jelavich, 1974, pp. 197–8. Rich, 1998, p. 95. Ibid., p. 99. Fuller, 1992, pp. 301–2. For a detailed account of universal conscription and army reorganization, see Miller, 1968, Chapter 6; Van Dyke, 1990, Chapter 3. MacKenzie, 1994, p. 57. Also see Keep, 1985, Chapter 15; Saunders, 1992, pp. 298–9. Italics original.

Notes 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

175

Rich, 1998, p. 100. Fuller, 1992, p. 303. On the influence on the Tsar of the finance ministry, see Fuller, 1985, pp. 58–74. Fuller, 1992, pp. 296, 306–7. Ibid., p. 301. Ibid., pp. 300, 302. On military values and biases, see Huntington, 1957; Posen, 1984; Sagan, 1995, pp. 52–7; Snyder, 1984, pp. 24–34. Rich, 1998, pp. 154, 158. Also see Rothenberg, 1986, p. 324. Garthoff, 1962, p. 244. Fuller, 1992, p. 296. Saunders, 1992, p. 304. Geyer, 1987, p. 104. Fuller, 1992, p. 350. Ibid., pp. 337–8. Miller, 1968, pp. 201–5, 208, 223. Customs duties accounted for 6 percent of the central government’s revenue. See Gatrell, 1986, p. 219. Fuller, 1992, p. 307. Rich, 1998, p. 158. Jelavich, 1991, p. 175. Gall, 1986, pp. 57–8. Russia made a similar claim for German compensation on the eve of the Turkish war. The Tsar and Gorchakov asked the Kaiser and Bismarck for protection against any intervention of other great powers, especially Austria-Hungary. St. Petersburg received mixed signals from Berlin. The Kaiser wrote in September 1876: “The memory of your attitude towards myself and my country from 1864 to 1870–1 will govern my policy toward Russia, come what may.” In contrast, the German Chancellor gave a negative reply and persuaded Russia to offer concessions to AustriaHungary in exchange for its benevolent neutrality. The Russians followed his advice and reached understandings with Vienna at Reichstadt and Budapest, although they broke their promises at San Stefano. See ibid., p. 50; Albertini, 1952, pp. 16–17; Holborn, 1962, p. 396. Gall, 1986, p. 54. Sumner, 1937, pp. 507, 523. Langer, 1962, p. 161. Jelavich, 1964, p. 185; Seton-Watson, 1967, p. 458; Snyder, 1997, p. 85. Sumner, 1937, p. 562. Langer, 1962, p. 172. Italics added. Rich, 1998, p. 161. Gall, 1986, p. 118. Langer, 1962, p. 174. Ibid., p. 178. Sumner, 1937, p. 557. Dolgorukov quoted in Fuller, 1992, p. 335. Langer, 1962, p. 175; Sumner, 1937, p. 558. On the causes and consequences of the Dual Alliance, see Geiss, 1976, Chapter 4; Seton-Watson, 1967, p. 459. Rich, 1998, p. 175. On the terms and implications of the Dreikaiserbund, see Langer, 1962, pp. 209–12; Snyder, 1997, pp. 101–8. Despite great publicity, the “war-in-sight” crisis had little prospect for escalation since Bismarck in fact did not intend to start another war against France. He was only bluffing in hopes that France would feel pressured to slow down its

176

66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108

Notes rearmament. It is also worthwhile to note that Britain signaled its disapproval of any German move against France. See Fuller, 1992, pp. 294–5; Saunders, 1992, p. 301; Seton-Watson, 1967, p. 438. Gall, 1986, p. 156. Seton-Watson, 1967, p. 499. MacKenzie, 1993, p. 224. Geyer, 1987, p. 104; Jelavich, 1964, p. 176. Jelavich, 1991, pp. 177–8. On relations between soldiers and diplomats in decisionmaking, see Sumner, 1937, pp. 503–4. Sumner, 1937, p. 558. Durman, 1988, p. 460. Fuller, 1992, p. 513 n. 83; Pflanze, 1990, p. 251. Holborn, 1962, p. 393. Langer, 1962, p. 192; Pflanze, 1990, p. 268. Geyer, 1987, pp. 113–14; Jelavich, 1974, pp. 198–201. On Bulgaria’s strategic importance, see Sumner, 1937, p. 560. Jelavich, 1964, p. 205. Also see MacKenzie, 1994, p. 118. Pflanze, 1990, pp. 223, 245. Also see Albertini, 1952, pp. 48–50; Kennan, 1979, pp. 268, 278. On the Reinsurance Treaty, see Kennan, 1979, Part 3. Van Evera, 1999, pp. 171–4. Menning, 1992, pp. 118–19. Fuller, 1985, p. 59. Fuller, 1992, p. 347. Ibid., p. 166. Ibid., pp. 154–9. On Moltke’s faith in defense, see Rothenberg, 1986, pp. 299–300, 306. Fuller, 1985, p. 58. Florinsky, 1947, pp. 967–70. Kennan, 1979, pp. 244–5, 320–1. For a detailed discussion, see Appendix. Snyder, 1984, pp. 157–9; Tucker, 1998, p. 40. Baumann, 2002, p. 142. Rich, 1998, pp. 203–4. Ibid., p. 175. Keep, 1985, p. 378. Fuller, 1992, p. 323. Rich, 1998, pp. 213–14. On the Russian army’s strengths, see Fuller, 1992, pp. 295, 324–5. Rich, 1998, pp. 201–2. Jelavich, 1964, p. 172; Seton-Watson, 1967, p. 437. Lemke, 2002, p. 28; Organski, 1968, pp. 356–9. Fuller, 1992, pp. 344–6; Rich, 1998, pp. 103–5. Fuller, 1992, p. 345. On the general staff’s authority, see Rich, 1998, pp. 154, 158. Byman and Pollack, 2001, p. 122. Kissinger, 1994, p. 136. Pflanze, 1990, p. 252.

4 The Schlieffen Plan and World War I 1 Van Evera, 1999, pp. 194–8, 202–7, 214–18, 220–5. 2 The German war plan was named after Alfred von Schlieffen, its author and the chief of the German general staff (1891–1905). Although it officially came into

Notes

3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

177

existence in 1906, the idea of wheeling through Belgium had been spelled out as early as 1899. See Rothenberg, 1986, pp. 316–17. While some scholars – most notably, Terrence Zuber – deny the existence of the plan, most experts accept it. See Mombauer, 2005; Zuber, 2002. Fischer, 1975, p. 399. Quote from Helmuth von Moltke, the chief of the general staff (1906–14). Ritter, 1958, p. 146. Ibid. Quote from Schlieffen. Ibid., pp. 60–1. Moltke’s view in May 1914. Jarausch, 1973, p. 151. GNP figures are drawn from Bairoch, 1976. Figures on energy consumption and iron/steel production are based on Singer and Small, 1993. Gerschenkron, 1962, Chapter 6; Neilson, 1995, pp. 100–1. Fuller, 1992, p. 438; Neilson, 1995, p. 102. Geiss, 1967, p. 60. Herrmann, 1996, p. 205. Herwig, 1984, p. 70. Moltke quoted in Stevenson, 1996, p. 362. Ibid., p. 15. Stone, 1975, pp. 41–2. Röhl, 1994, p. 188; Stevenson, 1996, p. 363. Geiss, 1976, pp. 139–40. Paul Schroeder argues that the declining Austria-Hungary posed a greater danger to German security than the rising Russia did. He emphasizes the roles that the Entente Powers played in weakening Austria-Hungary. See Schroeder, 1984, pp. 117–27. Fischer, 1975, p. 398. Herrmann, 1996, p. 208. Ibid.; Stevenson, 1996, pp. 352–3. German estimate in 1914. Herwig, 1984, p. 71. Fischer, 1975, p. 399. Herrmann, 1996, p. 194. Geiss, 1976, p. 154. Stevenson, 1996, p. 365. Röhl, 1994, pp. 162–3. Fischer, 1975, p. 400. Berghahn, 1973, p. 172. Mombauer, 2001, p. 182. Berghahn, 1973, p. 186. Italics original. Ibid., p. 172. Italics original. Max Warburg’s account on 21 June 1914 quoted in Fischer, 1975, p. 471. Jarausch, 1973, p. 158. Flatow’s account in 1912 based on information from the Chancellor’s son. Hillgruber, 1981, p. 25. Jarausch, 1973, p. 157 Hillgruber, 1981, p. 33 Hötzendorf to Colonel Josef Metzger on 3 March 1914. Berghahn, 1973, p. 171; Fischer, 1975, p. 398. Mombauer, 2001, p. 188; Mombauer, 2005, pp. 868–9. Geiss, 1967, p. 84. Ibid., pp. 81, 85. Fischer, 1975, p. 392. Geiss, 1976, p. 149. Also see Craig, 1956, p. 257; McNeill, 1982, p. 305. Tunstall, 1993, p. 83.

178 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

57 58 59

60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74

Notes Stone, 1975, p. 43. Tuchman, 1962, p. 58. Fischer, 1975, p. 392. Tunstall, 1993, p. 106. Turner, 1970, p. 74. On the demise of the Italian threat against France, see Herwig, 1984, p. 70. Ritter, 1958, p. 54. Turner, 1979b, p. 212. On logistical considerations behind the modifications of the plan, see Van Creveld, 1977, pp. 113–22. Turner, 1979b, p. 211. Walter Goerlitz agrees that “there was an undeniable danger of a powerful French army striking into Southern Germany, and so operating against the flank that was invading Belgium.” See Goerlitz, 1953, p. 147. In July 1911, the British and French armies reached an understanding that the BEF of 150,000 men and 67,000 horses would be ready for action on M-13 in the Maubeuge sector if the British government authorized military intervention. See Goerlitz, 1953, p. 156; Tuchman, 1962, p. 50. Herwig, 1984, p. 68; Stevenson, 1997, pp. 15–17. Williamson, 1979, p. 138. There was another reason that the German general staff worried about the possibility of losing its maneuver strategy. The Germans became increasingly concerned that the French might recognize the true strength and geographical extent of envelopment through Belgium. As war approached, there emerged a greater number of French publications warning the danger of a German main offensive through Belgium. The French government also arrested many German spies who may have known the key characters of the Schlieffen Plan. See Goerlitz, 1953, p. 147. Ritter, 1958, p. 47. Schlieffen, 1994, pp. 816–17. The examination of German attitudes shows that economic interdependence places a marginal if any constraint on preventive war. The Germans calculated that they could avoid costly economic dislocations by fighting a short war. They also believed that the prospect of commercial disruptions would not deter their foes from initiating a war in the future. Schlieffen, 1994, pp. 816–17. Koch, 1984, p. 18. Herwig, 1984, p. 91; Rothenberg, 1986, pp. 305–6, 310. GNP figures are drawn from Bairoch, 1976, p. 281; steel production and population are based on Singer and Small, 1993. Jarausch, 1973, p. 182. Ibid., p. 156. Jarausch, 1969; Zechlin, 1972. The Kaiser quoted in Berghahn, 1973, p. 192. Also see Geiss, 1966, p. 83. Williamson, 1991, p. 213. Bethmann on 8 July 1914 quoted in Stern, 1971, pp. 91–2. Alexander George views a “blackmail strategy” as offensive coercive diplomacy “wherein coercive threats can be employed aggressively to persuade a victim to give up something of value without putting up resistance.” George, 1994, p. 7. Also see Craig and George, 1995, Chapter 15. My view contradicts the so-called Fischer School’s claim that Bethmann and his colleagues preferred a continental war to a local war throughout the July crisis. Dale Copeland subscribes to Fritz Fischer’s account on this point. See Copeland, 2000, pp. 80–1; Fischer, 1975, p. 480; Geiss, 1976, p. 166. For the opposite view, see Jarausch, 1973, p. 184; Levy, 1991; Stevenson, 1996, p. 373; Trachtenberg, 1991.

Notes

179

75 Berghahn, 1973, p. 199. 76 Jarausch, 1973, p. 161. 77 Keiger, 1983, p. 149. Jagow also said: “I have no wish for a preventive war, but if the fight offers itself, we dare not flinch.” See Albertini, 1952, p. 158. 78 Berghahn, 1973, p. 189. 79 Albertini, 1952, p. 160. 80 Ibid., p. 159. 81 Stern, 1971, p. 91. 82 Jarausch, 1973, p. 159. 83 Berghahn, 1973, p. 198. 84 Jarausch, 1973, p. 167. 85 Ritter, 1970, p. 248. 86 On 25 July, quoted in Geiss, 1966, p. 84. 87 Keiger, 1983, p. 152. 88 “You will have very carefully to avoid giving the impression that we wish to hold Austria back,” Bethmann instructed his ambassador in Vienna regarding the Kaiser’s proposal, “It is simply the question of finding a way to realize Austria’s aim of cutting the vital cord of the Great Serbian propaganda without at the same time bringing on a world war.” See Schmitt, 1930, pp. 121–8. Edward Gray, the British foreign minister, also made a proposal in line with the “Halt in Belgrade” formula on 29 July, but the German chancellor similarly sabotaged it. 89 Telegram dispatched at 12:50 P.M., quoted in ibid., p. 134. A similar message was also sent to Paris at the same time. 90 Berghahn, 1973, p. 202. 91 Lebow, 1981, p. 128. 92 Telegram sent to the Russian ambassadors in Paris and London. Fuller, 1992, p. 447. 93 Farrar, 1973, p. 4. 94 Turner, 1979a, p. 258. Also see Spring, 1988, p. 70. 95 Neilson, 1995, pp. 111–12. 96 Spring, 1988, pp. 70–1. 97 Keithly, 1986, p. 571; Neilson, 1995, pp. 106, 109. 98 Turner, 1979a, p. 257. 99 Fuller, 1992, p. 439; Tuchman, 1962, p. 65. 100 Ibid., p. 66. 101 Spring, 1988, p. 71. 102 Turner, 1979a, p. 260. 103 Keiger, 1983, p. 153. 104 On 28 July, quoted in Turner, 1979a, p. 264. Also see Keiger, 1983, pp. 155, 159–60. 105 Ibid., p. 159. 106 Andrew, 1984, p. 145. 107 Joffre, 1932, p. 115. 108 Andrew, 1984, p. 145. 109 Williamson, 1979, p. 146. 110 Ibid., p. 147. 111 Ibid., p. 144. 112 Tuchman, 1962, p. 29. 113 Farrar, 1973, p. 11. 114 Tuchman, 1962, p. 29. 115 Farrar, 1973, p. 11; Tuchman, 1962, p. 29. 116 Although the Schlieffen Plan let the French army face a smaller-than-expected German force in Lorraine, high force-to-space ratios and geographical obstacles made a local breakthrough difficult in August 1914. 117 General Max von Montgelas, member of the German general staff in 1914, quoted

180

118 119

120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142

Notes in Fischer, 1975, p. 464. It is important to distinguish my view of the German preference ordering from other prominent schools of thought. For Fritz Fischer, German preferences were ordered as follows: continental war > local war > compromise between Austria-Hungary and Serbia > world war. On the other hand, the inadvertent war school argues that Germany preferred the Austro-Serbian compromise to both continental and world wars. According to this view, Germany merely wanted a local war, but the crisis accidentally escalated into a great-power war due to a series of blunders: local war > compromise > continental war > world war. In contrast, I argue that as a local war could not be achieved, Germany consciously decided to fight a continental or even world war rather than having a compromise. In other words, the German preference ordering was local war > continental war > world war > compromise. I borrow this system of preference ordering from Levy, 1991, pp. 236–7. Levy’s interpretation of German preferences reads as local war > continental war > compromise > world war. For the Fischer thesis, see Fischer, 1967; Fischer, 1975. For an overview of debates surrounding this thesis, see McDonough, 1997, pp. 26–32; Mombauer, 2002, pp. 127–86. The inadvertent war thesis has been popular especially among political scientists despite the dearth of supporting evidence. For notable examples, see Albertini, 1952; Lebow, 1981; Sagan, 1991; Snyder, 1991; Tuchman, 1962; Turner, 1970; Van Evera, 1984. An excellent critique of the inadvertent escalation thesis is Trachtenberg, 1991. Trachtenberg, 1991, pp. 208–12. Fay, 1966, pp. 434–5. Copeland uses the same quote to support his claim that the purpose of the message was encouraging Vienna to step up peace propaganda rather than back down. However, the expression of “at least” clearly indicates that Bethmann preferred a negotiated peace at the moment. Ibid., p. 435. Also see the 2:55 A.M. telegram in Fay, 1966, p. 437. The Bavarian Military Attaché in Berlin quoted in Berghahn, 1973, p. 203. Moltke on 29 July quoted in ibid. The Saxon Military Attaché’s account. The Bavarian Military Attaché quoted in Schmitt, 1930, p. 136. Ritter, 1970, p. 258. Also see Trachtenberg, 1991, p. 214. Mombauer, 2001, p. 205. Geiss, 1966, p. 82. Mombauer, 2001, p. 209. Fischer, 1975, p. 504. Mombauer, 2001, p. 191. Ibid., p. 182. Fischer, 1975, p. 487. Stern, 1971, p. 91. Stevenson, 1996, p. 375. Fischer, 1975, p. 389. Mombauer, 2001, p. 221; Ritter, 1958, pp. 68–9. Italics added. Schlieffen, 1994, pp. 816–17. Farrar, 1973, p. 4. Evaluating the east-first strategy, the younger Moltke shared his uncle’s pessimism and estimated: “At all events, this Russian campaign would drag on endlessly.” See Hillgruber, 1981, p. 28. Rothenberg, 1986, p. 312. Jarausch, 1973, p. 175. Offense–defense theory’s explanations for World War I are found in Van Evera, 1999, Chapter 7. Also see Snyder, 1991. See Van Evera, 1999, pp. 118, 193. For alternative definitions of the balance, see Levy, 1984, pp. 222–30. See Van Evera, 1999, p. 218, especially n. 116.

Notes 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154

155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183

184 185 186

181

Ibid., p. 214. Snyder, 1984, Chapters 4 and 5; Snyder, 1991, pp. 34–41. Snyder, 1991, Chapter 3. Also see Kehr, 1977. Zechlin, 1972, pp. 149–50 Koch, 1984, p. 14. Ibid. Fischer, 1975, p. 401. Stone, 1975, p. 42. Berghahn, 1973, pp. 156–64; Jarausch, 1973, pp. 96–8. Williamson, 1979, pp. 138–9. Tanenbaum, 1984, p. 165. The French army nevertheless planned an offensive in Lorraine and anticipated its success. This confidence was in part based on considerable military superiority held by France along the Lorraine front. The French also underestimated the effects of defense-enhancing factors such as high force-to-space ratio. The fact that France failed to defeat a smaller-than-expected German army in Lorraine in August 1914 implies this latter point. See Van Evera, 1999, pp. 205–6. Snyder, 1991, p. 25. Sagan, 1991, p. 109. Fay, 1966, pp. 467–8. Trachtenberg, 1991, pp. 84–7. Ibid., p. 77. An account offered by Schilling, the chief of the chancellery at the foreign ministry. Ritter, 1970, p. 257. Trachtenberg, 1991, p. 200. Schilling’s account. Ibid., p. 201. Van Evera, 1999, p. 220. Schlieffen quoted in Ritter, 1958, p. 100. Ibid., p. 61. On a similar point, see Craig, 1956, p. 278. Goerlitz, 1953, p. 141; Ritter, 1958, pp. 41–2, 51. Also see Christensen and Snyder, 1990, p. 150. Holmes, 2004, p. 668. Ritter, 1958, p. 42. Quoted in Tuchman, 1962, p. 20. Rothenberg, 1986, p. 310; Tanenbaum, 1984, pp. 151, 158. Van Evera, 1999, p. 204. See Copeland, 2000, Chapters 3 and 4. See ibid., pp. 61–3. Fuller, 1992, pp. 433–8; Neilson, 1995, p. 111. Herwig, 1984, p. 69. Fuller, 1984, p. 113. See Bairoch, 1976, p. 281, Table 4. Fuller, 1992, p. 450. Herrmann, 1996, p. 201. Ibid., p. 221. Snyder, 1984, p. 43. Keiger, 1983, p. 149. According to Keiger, “Senate report by Charles Humbert on France’s inferiority in armamements to Germany . . . had no visible effect on morale in France.” From this, one can infer that the quality of armament was not a significant factor shaping French assessment of military capability. Stone, 1975, p. 37. Andrew, 1984, pp. 148–9. Lerchenfeld quoted in Fischer, 1975, p. 503. Also see ibid., pp. 402–3, 493.

182

Notes

187 Herwig, 1984, p. 62. For similarly pessimistic estimates, see ibid., p. 67. 188 Mombauer, 2001, pp. 211–12. 189 Lemke, 2002, p. 28; Organski, 1968, pp. 356–9; Organski and Kugler, 1980, pp. 58–9. 190 Kennedy, 1976, Chapter 8; Kennedy, 1980. 191 Vasquez, 1996, pp. 42–3. 192 Herwig, 1984, p. 84; Stevenson, 1996, pp. 337–8. 193 Geiss, 1976, p. 155; Stevenson, 1997, p. 14; Turner, 1970, p. 65. 194 Hatton, 1972, pp. 32–3. 195 Geiss, 1966, pp. 87–8, 90; Turner, 1970, p. 101. 196 Hatton, 1972, pp. 33–4. 197 Turner, 1979b, pp. 202–3. 198 The French had fine intelligence capabilities in certain areas. For instance, France enjoyed a decisive lead over Germany in communications intelligence. While the Germans had no agency for code breaking, the French had three before the outbreak of war. See Andrew, 1984, p. 129. 199 Tanenbaum, 1984. 200 Ritter, 1958, pp. 159, 161–4. 201 See Appendix and Van Evera, 1999, p. 194. 202 Holmes, 2004. 203 Ritter, 1958, p. 97. Also see Turner, 1979b, p. 205. Italics original. 204 See Goerlitz, 1953, pp. 127–42. 205 Tuchman, 1962, p. 22. 206 Fischer, 1975, pp. 199–204. 207 Ibid., p. 200. 208 For the latter interpretation, see Copeland, 2000, pp. 69–70. 209 This is what John Stuart Mill calls “the method of difference.” See Mill, 1888/1970. Also see Van Evera, 1997, pp. 57–8. 5 Pearl Harbor attack plan and the Pacific War 1 The Imperial Navy had regarded the US Navy as its main opponent since 1909. Fukudome, 1986, p. 8. 2 On Japan’s limited war aims, see Paul, 1994, pp. 67–70. 3 Asada, 1973, p. 235. 4 Ibid. 5 Yamamoto quoted in Goldstein and Dillon, 1993, p. 116. 6 Dull, 1978, p. 14. 7 Fukudome, 1986, p. 25. 8 Dull, 1978, pp. 8–10. 9 Another mission for the submarine force was to collect intelligence on the location, number, and type of ships in Pearl Harbor. Ibid., p. 14. 10 Paul, 1994, pp. 67–9. 11 James, 1986, p. 707. 12 Potter, 1965, p. 72. 13 Butow, 1961, pp. 277, 348. 14 Ito, 1956, p. 708. 15 Dull, 1978, p. 232. On deception measures employed by Yamamoto, see Potter, 1965, p. 77. 16 The figures of military expenditure are drawn from Singer and Small, 1993. 17 James, 1986, p. 705. 18 Morley, 1974, p. 99. 19 Marder, 1981, p. 171. 20 Dull, 1978, p. 4.

Notes

183

21 Barnhart, 1987, p. 156. 22 Willmott, 1982, p. 68. The shortage of steel made a large-scale expansion of the synthetic oil program practically impossible. See Barnhart, 1987, p. 256. 23 Barnhart, 1987, pp. 215, 238. 24 Ibid., p. 268. 25 Nagaoka, 1980, p. 147. 26 Paul, 1994, p. 73. 27 Ike, 1967, pp. 130–1. Also see Drea, 1998, p. 183; Marder, 1981, pp. 171, 244; Morley, 1994, pp. 258, 267–8. 28 Morley, 1974, p. 98. 29 Ienaga, 1978, p. 133. 30 Morley, 1974, p. 97. 31 Marder, 1981, p. 168. 32 Paul, 1994, p. 70. 33 Goldstein and Dillon, 1993, p. 120. 34 Marder, 1981, p. 257. 35 Butow, 1961, p. 248. 36 Ibid. 37 Singer and Small, 1993. 38 Asada, 1973, p. 237. Also see Howarth, 1992, pp. 109, 112–13; Potter, 1965, p. 44. 39 Goldstein and Dillon, 1993, p. 118. 40 Butow, 1961, p. 326. Junior officials were in general less optimistic about diplomacy and more hawkish. Therefore, senior leaders wanted to keep the negotiations secret thereby excluding their subordinates. See Imai, 1973, p. 77; Maxon, 1957, p. 166. 41 Hosoya, 1973, p. 149. 42 The army estimated that there existed a 70 percent chance of diplomatic success in the event that Prime Minister Konoe and President Roosevelt discussed the matters in person. But Washington was reluctant to accept a summit meeting. See Tsunoda, 1990, p. 94. 43 Butow, 1961, pp. 228–9; Iriye, 1987, p. 145. 44 Barnhart, 1987, pp. 223, 234. Also see Iriye, 1999, pp. 74–5. 45 Butow, 1961, p. 249. 46 Iriye, 1987, p. 164; Marder, 1981, p. 178. 47 Barnhart, 1987, p. 248; Butow, 1961, p. 251; Marder, 1981, p. 175. 48 Butow, 1961, p. 301. 49 Barnhart, 1987, p. 247. 50 Although some historians argue that Tojo was appointed as prime minister in order to lead Japan into war, this account holds little truth. Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal Koichi Kido and the elder statesmen (jushin) recommended him, in large part because he respected the emperor so much that he would uphold the emperor’s wish for a “clean slate” policy review. Tojo was also believed to be the only leader who could quell any violent resistance to the Imperial order from army officers and ultranationalists. The fact that Tojo also assumed the posts of army and home ministers reflected this common expectation. See Butow, 1961, p. 314; Imai, 1973, p. 77; Maxon, 1957, p. 185; Morley, 1994, pp. 236–43. 51 Butow, 1961, pp. 319–20. 52 Butow, 1961, p. 325; Marder, 1981, p. 246. 53 Barnhart, 1987, p. 260; Morley, 1994, pp. 264–5. 54 Ike, 1967, p. 238. 55 Morley, 1994, pp. 264–5. 56 Iriye, 1999, p. 40. Original text. 57 Although the US government considered a conciliatory proposal for modus vivendi, Roosevelt and Hull eventually decided to withhold it since “the slight prospects of Japan’s agreeing to the modus vivendi did not warrant assuming the risks involved in

184

58 59

60 61 62 63 64 65 66

67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

82 83

Notes proceeding with it, especially the serious risk of collapse of Chinese morale and resistance and even disintegration of China.” See Langer and Gleason, 1953, pp. 892–3. Iriye, 1999, p. 76. The entire text of the note is available from this source. Also see Barnhart, 1987, p. 236. The pact with Germany and Italy was designed to deter the Soviet Union from attacking Manchuria. This purpose of the pact disappeared when the Germans attacked the Soviets in June 1941: Soviet Russia would not attack Japan while fighting for its survival. On the Tripartite Pact, see Marder, 1981, p. 128. Quote from Iriye, 1999, p. 76. Butow, 1961, p. 337. Washington was able to decode Japanese diplomatic correspondences, and therefore, Hull knew that Tokyo had set 1 December as a deadline for diplomacy, after which “things are automatically going to happen.” See Potter, 1965, p. 78. Barnhart, 1987, p. 236; Tsunoda, 1990, p. 90. For the doves’ views on US–Japan relations, see Emmerson, 1990; Hosoya, 1990, p. 55. Also see Barnhart, 1990, pp. 65–6. Langer and Gleason, 1953, p. 849. Also see Grew, 1952, pp. 1277–88. 18 July 1941. Hearden, 1987, p. 211. For this reason, Roosevelt opposed a total embargo at the time. Instead, he froze Japanese assets in the United States thereby limiting oil shipment to pre-1937 level. This decision, however, unintentionally turned into a de facto embargo. When he realized this in early September, Roosevelt chose not to reverse the course for fear of signaling weak resolve and for other strategic considerations discussed subsequently. See Dallek, 1979, pp. 274–5. Dallek, 1979, pp. 299–313; Hearden, 1987, p. 220; Sherwood, 1948, pp. 423–4, 428–30. Grew, 1952, p. 1260. Heinrichs, 1988, pp. 142, 145. Hull quoted in Butow, 1961, p. 323. Heinrichs, 1988, pp. 126, 129, 159–60, 179, 191–2, 198–9. Also see Dallek, 1979, p. 279. Heinrichs, 1988, pp. 141, 177, 193. The United States also expected that B-17 heavy bombers in the Philippines would help deter a Japanese expansion. See Hearden, 1987, pp. 216–17. The United States had “War Plan Orange” against Japan between 1924 and 1940. Rainbow No. 5 came to replace this old strategy in 1941 since the latter paid no due attention to opposing coalitions. Both plans shared a number of important features except the differing emphasis on coalition warfare. On American strategies, see James, 1986; Miller, 1991. Richardson and Dyer, 1974, p. 267. Ltr, JPC to JB, 27 Dec 37, sub: Joint War Plan Orange, JB 325, ser. 618. Richardson and Dyer, 1974, p. 269. Ibid. Barnhart, 1987, pp. 176, 196–7, 216, 218, 227; Emmerson, 1990, pp. 39–40, 44; Hosoya, 1990, pp. 51, 61–2; Schroeder, 1958, pp. 183–92. British strategic planners shared this assessment. See Ford, 2004, pp. 137–43. Emmerson, 1990, p. 43. Heinrichs, 1988, p. 213; Iriye, 1999, pp. 3, 11; Ross, 1992, pp. 6–17. This document, officially entitled “Joint Board Estimate of United States Overall Production Requirements,” was signed by General George Marshall and Admiral Harold Stark. It is published in Ross, 1992, pp. 160–89, 190–201. Quote from p. 169. Hosoya, 1973, p. 160. Ibid.; Maxon, 1957, p. 178.

Notes

185

84 Iriye, 1999, p. 87. Also see Butow, 1961, p. 361; Ienaga, 1978, p. 134; Maxon, 1957, p. 174. 85 Marder, 1981, pp. 247–8. On Shimada and Finance Minister Kaya Okinori’s opposition of troop withdrawal from China, see Butow, 1961, p. 274; Ienaga, 1978, p. 134. 86 Tsunoda, 1990, p. 89. 87 Some Americans shared Togo’s suspicion and came up with “the Devil theory” for the Pacific War. Historian Alvin Coox summarizes this revisionist theory as follows: Put simply, the highest American officials, from the President down, were allegedly implicated in a deliberate plot and a massive cover-up designed to drag the reluctant, isolationist United States through the back door to war [with Japan and Germany], by enticing the Japanese into launching a preemptive, surprise operation that would be sufficient to enrage the American people but insufficient to damage American prospects for ultimate victory. Despite its publicity, there is strong evidence against this conspiracy theory. Most importantly, Roosevelt and his advisors expected that Japan would in all probability attack only Thailand, British possessions, or the Dutch East Indies, as discussed earlier. And they had good reason to suspect that such an event might not suffice to call forth the congressional and public consent for an armed intervention. In addition, the Roosevelt government tried its utmost to avoid provocative actions even at the expense of military preparedness. Had Roosevelt wanted war with Japan, he should have made efforts to provoke an incident as he did in the Atlantic. See Coox, 1990, p. 119; Dallek, 1979, pp. 299–313; Langer and Gleason, 1953, pp. 860, 886–7; Sherwood, 1948, pp. 423–4, 428–30. 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98

99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110

1 December 1941. Iriye, 1999, p. 89. 1 December 1941. Ibid., p. 87. Marder, 1981, p. 244. Butow, 1961, p. 316. 16 January 1941. Barnhart, 1987, p. 198. Also see Iriye, 1987, p. 162. Willmott, 1982, p. 73. Drea, 1998, p. 180. Morley, 1974, p. 97. Also see Morley, 1994, p. 268. Nagano estimated that the “Southern Operation” had at least a 70 or 80 percent chance of success. See Iriye, 1987, p. 161. Asada, 1973, p. 252. Japanese military thinking overemphasized the importance of “spirit” over materiel. To take an extreme example, Admiral Kato Kanji asserted that if the Washington Naval Treaty was abrogated, “the morale and self-confidence of our navy would be so bolstered that we could count on certain victory over our hypothetical enemy, no matter how overwhelming the physical odds against us.” See ibid., pp. 226–9, 240; Ienaga, 1978, p. 49. Potter, 1965, p. 44. Agawa, 1979, p. 234. Ibid., p. 235. Paul, 1994, p. 69; Scalapino, 1980, p. 119. Potter, 1965, p. 43. Also see Howarth, 1992, p. 114; Ito, 1956, p. 19. James, 1986, p. 327. Willmott, 1982, pp. 69–71. Potter, 1965, p. 72. Dull, 1978, p. 7. Agawa, 1979, p. 223; Morley, 1994, pp. 287–8. Fukudome, 1986, p. 16. Also see Potter, 1965, p. 68. Dull, 1978, p. 7.

186 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123

124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154

Notes Asada, 1973, p. 255. Morley, 1994, p. 273. Also see Goldstein and Dillon, 1993, p. 116. Agawa, 1979, p. 235. Ibid., p. 215. Asada, 1973, p. 243. Fukudome, 1986, p. 31. Ienaga, 1978, p. 134. Butow, 1961, pp. 245, 281, 284. Ito, 1956, pp. 15, 19–20. Potter, 1965, pp. 41–2. Morley, 1994, p. 230. Ibid., p. 249. Admiral Sawamoto explained Oikawa’s reluctance to admit military pessimism in public as follows: “the Navy was not in a position to say, ‘The Japanese Navy cannot wage war,’ because if the Navy had said this, it would have lost its raison d’etre and the morale of the officers would have dropped.” Had the navy acknowledged its lack of confidence, the army and jingoists also might have forced the navy to yield its share of oil and steel. See Asada, 1973, p. 255; Marder, 1981, p. 256. On political hierarchy in Japan, see Butow, 1961, p. 308; Imai, 1973, p. 56. Maxon, 1957, p. 182. Ibid., p. 150. Ibid., p. 156. Ibid., pp. 158–9. Howarth, 1992, p. 112. Also see Beasley, 1987, p. 198. See Van Evera, 1999, pp. 89–94, 103–4, 182–3. Dull, 1978, p. 8. Morley, 1994, p. 269. Ibid., p. 271. Barnhart, 1987, p. 235; Morley, 1994, p. 314. Morley, 1994, p. 312. Barnhart, 1987, p. 205. Ibid., p. 241. Proposal B in a nutshell envisioned a return to relations prior to the Japanese intrusion into southern French Indochina and the American oil embargo in July 1941. See Marder, 1981, p. 247. See Military History Section, Headquarters, Armed Forces Far East, 1947, pp. 14–18. Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998, pp. 73–4. Copeland, 2000, p. 263 n. 80. Ike, 1967, p. 238. Dull, 1978, p. 5. Barnhart, 1987, p. 247. Morley, 1974, p. 96. Marder, 1981, p. 183. Also see Fukudome, 1986, pp. 18–19. Marder, 1981, pp. 168, 173–4. Ike, 1967, pp. 237–8. Also see Butow, 1961, p. 249. Agawa, 1979, p. 238. Also see Fukudome, 1986, p. 24. Mearsheimer, 2001, p. 5. Copeland offers no explicit definitions of great power and polarity. Iriye, 1987, p. 144. Japan could also expect little direct military assistance from Germany and Italy. See Marder, 1981, p. 333. Ibid., pp. 117, 125. Togo, 1956, p. 47.

Notes 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163

187

164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174

Marder, 1981, p. 262. Fukudome, 1986, p. 28; Ito, 1956, p. 24. Howarth, 1992, p. 115. On other high-quality arms, see Paul, 1994, pp. 70–4. Ike, 1967, p. 233. Also see Ito, 1956, p. 22. Howarth, 1992, p. 115. Lemke, 2002, pp. 141–5; Organski, 1968, pp. 359–60. Organski, 1968, p. 359 Coox, 1977; Kikuoka, 1988. On the development of Yamamoto’s maneuver strategy, see Agawa, 1979, p. 219; Fukudome, 1986, p. 20; Howarth, 1992, pp. 113–14; Iriye, 1987, p. 151; Military History Section, Headquarters, Armed Forces Far East, 1947, pp. 43–76; Potter, 1965, pp. 52–3. Paul, 1994, p. 68. Ryunosuke, the chief of staff of the First Air Fleet, quoted in Agawa, 1979, p. 229. On the strategic debate, see ibid., pp. 228–32. Barnhart, 1987, p. 219; James, 1986, pp. 729–30. Potter, 1965, pp. 48–51. Also see Agawa, 1979, p. 219. Agawa, 1979, p. 235. Ito, 1956, p. 35. For this view, see Dull, 1978, p. 3. Snyder, 1991, pp. 112–13. Ibid., p. 145. On the army and the navy’s divergent interests and outlooks, see Asada, 1973, pp. 245, 251; Barnhart, 1987, p. 136; Beasley, 1987, p. 201. Marder, 1981, p. 124. Morley, 1974, pp. 81, 85, 93; Willmott, 1982, p. 74. Barnhart, 1987, pp. 239, 265. Imai, 1973, p. 73. Morley, 1974, p. 94. Butow, 1961, p. 315; Mushakoji, 1973, p. 601. Barnhart, 1987, p. 157. For this view, see Russett, 1967; Sagan, 1988, p. 324; Schroeder, 1958, pp. 200–1. Willmott, 1982, p. 67. Emmerson, 1990, p. 43. Barnhart, 1987, p. 157; Butow, 1961, p. 270; Maxon, 1957, p. 163.

175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185

6 Conclusion 1 2 3 4

5 6 7

8

Kennedy, 1987; Mearsheimer, 2001; Overy, 1995. George and McKeown, 1985, pp. 29–34; Van Evera, 1997, pp. 58–63. Luttwak, 1979. If states could create maneuver strategies at will, then no belligerent at war would ever adopt a costly attrition strategy. In reality, attrition has been a common method of warfare. See Malkasian, 2002. The Austro-Hungarian case also refutes the common misconception that maneuver and offense are synonymous as attrition and defense are. Wang and Ray, 1994, pp. 149–50. Bueno de Mesquita, 1981, pp. 21–2. If all the competing theories are asked to explain the occurrence of war alone regardless of its initiator, power transition theory makes six correct predictions while offense–defense theory and dynamic differentials theory account for five and four cases, respectively. However, strategic theory still outperforms all these theories by making nine correct predictions. On the problem of cheating and preventive war, see Fearon, 1995, pp. 404–8.

188 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

40 41 42

Notes

Paul, 1995; Van Evera, 1999, Chapter 3. Blainey, 1973, Chapter 3. For a comprehensive account of the subject, see Mearsheimer, 1994/95. On these functions of international organizations, see Abbott and Snidal, 1998, pp. 19–23. Schweller, 1992. Reiter and Meek, 1999, pp. 370–2. Also see Reiter and Stam, 2002, Chapter 7. Tellis, 2005. Chambers, 2002. Friedberg, 2005; Lemke and Tammen, 2003; Schweller, 1999. Roy, 1994, p. 120. Also see Bernstein and Munro, 1997; Friedberg, 1993/94; Mearsheimer, 2001; Mearsheimer, 2005. Brzezinski, 2005; Chan, 2004; Johnston, 2003; Kang, 2003; Ross, 1997. Burr and Richelson, 2000/01; Trachtenberg, 1991. Bush, 2002, pp. 29–30. Lieber and Press, 2006. Preventive war responds to an adversary’s growing capabilities while a pre-emptive strike is to use force in anticipation of an impending attack. As the just-mentioned quotation reveals, the Bush administration intends to strike before its enemies acquire weapons of mass destruction and pose a threat; therefore, it has a doctrine of preventive – not pre-emptive – war. The United States insists on describing its policy as preemption in part because international law categorically prohibits preventive wars while permitting pre-emptive strikes as self-defense measures under certain circumstances. For further discussion, see Walzer, 1992. Bush, 2002, p. 15. Remarks by President George W. Bush at 2002 graduation exercise of the US military academy. UK Joint Intelligence Committee, 2002, pp. 13–14. Cirincione et al., 2004, p. 16. On threat inflation in the run up to the Iraq war, see Cirincione et al., 2004; Kaufmann, 2004. George W. Bush, “Address to the Nation on War with Iraq,” Washington, DC, 17 March 2003. Text of the resolution is available at the United Nations website (www.un.org). My description of the US military strategy is based upon Donnelly, 2004; Murray and Scales, 2003; Woodward, 2004. The 101st Air Assault Division also misled the Iraqis by feinting at Al Hillah due south of Baghdad. Woodward, 2004, p. 1. Ibid., p. 30. Ibid., pp. 137–8. Ibid., pp. 326–7. US planners of Operation Iraqi Freedom were in fact concerned about the possibility of chemical or biological attacks of such kind. Posen, 1997. It was reported that the Iraqi government offered last-minute concessions including unlimited inspections and free elections in order to avoid war. However, Saddam declined to accept the core demand of relinquishing power and leaving the country. See Borger et al., 2003. Woods et al., 2006. Part of this section is drawn from my previously published article: Copyright 2006 from “US Preventive War against North Korea” by Dong Sun Lee. Reproduced by permission of Taylor & Francis Group, LLC., http://www.taylorandfrancis.com. Mazarr, 1995.

Notes

189

43 Wit et al., 2004, Chapter 7. 44 Pollack, 2003, p. 12; Sigal, 1998, pp. 90–5. 45 In 1998, the United States demanded an inspection of a suspect underground nuclear facility at Kumchangni, located 50 miles northwest of Yongbyon. After an acute confrontation with North Korea, US experts were permitted to investigate the site in 1999 and 2000 but found no evidence of nuclear weapons-related activities. 46 For a succinct overview of the six-party talks, see International Crisis Group, 2004. 47 Yoon, 2005. 48 Auster et al., 2003. 49 Biddle, 2004, p. 136; Liddell Hart, 1960; O’Hanlon, 1998, p. 149. 50 Bermudez, 2001, pp. 57–9. 51 Biddle, 2004; Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 49–50. 52 Loeb and Slevin, 2003; O’Hanlon, 1998. 53 O’Hanlon, 2000. 54 US Marine Corps, 1996; US Marine Corps, 2001. 55 Bandow, 2003; Saunders, 2003. 56 Shrader, 2005. 57 Keaney and Cohen, 1993, p. 70. 58 Excerpts are available at (accessed 5 February 2007). 59 For example, see Kirk, 2003; Mazarr, 1995, p. 99; Wit et al., 2004, p. 222. 60 McCormack, 2004, p. 57. 61 Oh and Hassig, 2000, Chapter 4. 62 Carpenter, 2003/04, p. 94. 63 ROK Department of National Defense, 2004, p. 109. The United States and the ROK agreed to reduce the number of USFK troops to approximately 25,000 by 2008. 64 Oh and Hassig, 2000, pp. 114–24. 65 Meet the press, NBC, 20 March 2005. 66 O’Hanlon and Mochizuki, 2003, pp. 60–1. 67 Loeb and Slevin, 2003. 68 Oberdorfer, 2001, p. 324. 69 An estimate of General Gary Luck, a former commander of USFK. See Cha and Kang, 2003, p. 6. 70 Ibid., p. 55. 71 O’Hanlon, 1998, pp. 147–8. 72 According to census statistics, Seoul’s population density (17,132 per square kilometer) was about 70 percent higher than New York City’s (10,238 per square kilometer) in 2000. The higher the population density is, the greater number of people an explosive can hurt. 73 Bermudez, 2001, pp. 9, 161. 74 Harrison, 2002, p. 128. 75 Levy and Gochal, 2001/02; Mearsheimer, 1983; Schweller, 1992. 76 ABC News/Washington Post Poll, 7–11 December 2006; “US sustains 3,000th fatality in Iraq,” The Associated Press, 1 January 2007. 77 Gallup poll, 25–27 February 2005. 78 Sanger, 2002. Also see ibid., 2003. 79 Perry, 1999. 80 Cha, 2002. 81 Scobell, 2005. 82 Bumiller, 2002. Also see O’Hanlon et al., 2002, p. 6. 83 Most North Korea experts share this observation despite numerous other differences between their views. See Scobell, 2005, pp. 8–9. 84 Linzer, 2006. 85 Fitzpatrick, 2007, p. 47.

190

Notes

86 Logan, 2006. 87 Raas and Long, 2007. 88 CNN/Opinion Research Corporation Poll, 4–6 May 2007. Appendix: coding cases of power shifts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

21

22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 110–14. Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998. For other definitions, see Levy, 1984, pp. 222–30. See Walt, 1987. Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998, pp. 68–70. This rule of thumb is borrowed from Mearsheimer, 1983, p. 44. Singer and Small, 1993. Copeland, 2000, pp. 247–54. Kugler and Organski, 1989; Organski and Kugler, 1980. Kugler and Organski, 1989, p. 181, Table 7.2; Organski and Kugler, 1986. Bairoch, 1976; the OECD data are found in Maddison, 1995, Appendix C. Small and Singer, 1982, p. 194. On the benefits of using historiography as evidence, see Lustick, 1996. Howard, 1961, p. 63. Holmes, 1984, p. 168. Von Moltke, 1901, p. 4. Fuller, 1954, pp. 149–51. Directive No. 21, Operation Barbarossa, translated in Blau, 1988, p. 22. Blau, 1988, p. 15; Glantz and House, 1995, p. 30. British planning for war against Germany began during the Moroccan crisis of 1905. The main contingency previously had been a Russian invasion of India. Shifts in the balance of power seem to have caused this changing strategic focus for the most part. Russia’s defeat in the Far East and ensuing domestic disturbances eased British concerns over the Indian defense. In addition, Germany became a potential hegemon in Europe as France virtually stood alone to check German expansion. On the change in British defense planning, see McDermott, 1979. The following description of British naval strategy is based on “War Orders No. 1: War with Germany” issued on 1 July 1914. See Williamson, 1988, pp. 318–22. The earlier versions had a more offensive character, as they envisioned “close blockades” and amphibious assaults on the German coasts. See Haggie, 1979. Our discussion of British strategy is based on Bourne, 1967. Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 77–98. Bond, 1980, p. 313; Mearsheimer, 1983, pp. 85–6. Trachtenberg, 1991, Chapter 3. Trachtenberg, 1999, pp. 156–78. Heuser, 1998, pp. 320–1. Ruhl, 1991, pp. 445–7. Bluth, 1995, p. 63. Also see Glantz, 1992, pp. 198–203; Heuser, 1993, pp. 442–3. Kramer, 1992, p. 14. Bluth, 1995, pp. 56–61; Heuser, 1993, 444. Douglass and Hoeber, 1979, p. 18. Tunstall, 1993, Chapter 4. Van Evera, 1999, pp. 160, 172. Lieber, 2000, p. 86; McNeill, 1982, pp. 250–1. Carr, 1991, p. 203; Howard, 1961, pp. 4–7. Cox, 1994, p. 30. Von Moltke, 1901, pp. 7–8. Howard, 1961, p. 63.

Notes 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

191

Connaughton, 1988. Fuller, 1954, pp. 145–6. Ibid., p. 142. Connaughton, 1988, p. 13. Ibid., p. 15. Van Evera, 1984. The length of border is estimated in Liddell Hart, 1967, p. 151. The numbers of forces are drawn from Herrmann, 1996, p. 221. The length of border is based on author’s estimate, which adds the length of the Franco-German border (240 kilometers) to those of the German–Belgium and German–Luxemburg borders estimated at 120 kilometers together. Murray, 1996, pp. 12–15, 29–34. Elman, 1999, Chapter 4. Liddell Hart, 1967, p. 240. Mearsheimer, 2001, p. 80. Glantz and House, 1995, pp. 29–30. Blau, 1988, p. 9. Ibid., p. 16. Fuller, 1961, pp. 134–5. On the Russian army’s financial problem and its adverse consequences, see Fuller, 1992, pp. 338–9. Snyder, 1984, pp. 157–9. Tucker, 1998, p. 40. The situation was quite different in the Russo-Austrian frontier: Galicia lacked significant geographical obstacles and thus was suitable for offensive operations. Tucker, 1998, p. 39. Ritter, 1958, p. 19. Menning, 1992, pp. 108–12. Ritter, 1958, p. 20. Christensen and Snyder, 1990, p. 156. Herrmann, 1996, p. 221. Singer and Small, 1993. The length of border is drawn from Mearsheimer, 1983, p. 94. The number of divisions came from Karber et al., 1979. The length of border is based on Liddell Hart, 1960, p. 102. On American efforts toward mechanization, see Elman, 1999, Chapter 3. Type 97 medium tank, arguably the best in the Japanese arsenal, weighed only 15 tons and was equipped with 57-mm gun and 8- to 25-mm armor. On Japanese tanks, see Forty, 1999, pp. 173–88. Tank production figure is drawn from Harries and Harries, 1991, p. 349. Quester, 1977, pp. 146–52. For detailed accounts of technological developments in this field, see Millett, 1996; Till, 1996. Van Evera, 1999, p. 177. Similar accounts include Glaser, 1990; Jervis, 1989, Chapter 1. Evangelista, 1982/83. The size of the Red Army is based on ibid., p. 114. Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998, p. 65; Mearsheimer, 1983, Chapter 6. Mearsheimer, 1983, Chapter 6. Ibid., Chapter 7; Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998, p. 64. Murray, 1996, p. 32. Stone, 1979, p. 225. Fuller, 1961, p. 184. Stone, 1979, pp. 106, 229–30. Tunstall, 1993, p. 96.

192

Notes

83 Exemplary works include Christensen, 1997; Christensen and Snyder, 1990; Quester, 1977; Snyder, 1984; Van Evera, 1999. 84 Van Evera, 1999, pp. 169–83. 85 This procedure is adapted from the Correlates of War project’s Composite Index of National Capabilities (CINC). In addition to military personnel and expenditure, CINC score includes steel/iron production, energy consumption, total population, and urban population. 86 On this point, see de Soysa et al., 1997. 87 Data for 1901–04 cannot be found in any of the examined data sets. 88 See Organski and Kugler, 1980, p. 59, Figure 1.2. 89 Bairoch, 1976, p. 295, Table 10. 90 Maddison, 1995, p. 182. Data for 1851–69 are missing for the United States in all the examined data sets. 91 Bairoch, 1976, p. 281. 92 Copeland, 2000; Fischer, 1967; Fischer, 1975; Levy, 1991, pp. 236–7. 93 Beevor, 1998, pp. 3–11; Betts, 1982, pp. 34–42; Glantz and House, 1995, pp. 41–4. 94 Tucker, 1998, pp. 25–7.

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Index

Page numbers in bold represent figures, page numbers in italics represent tables. Agreed Framework 135–6 Ahmadinejad, M. 142, 145 air attrition strategy 32 air maneuver strategy 32; decapitation 32; interdiction 32; vertical envelopment 32 air strikes 143 air warfare 31–3 al-Sadr, M. 144 attack as best defense 79 attrition strategy 2–5, 13, 14, 15, 28, 122, 136; air 32; compensation 22–3; fighting costs 20; France 70; Japan 89; loss of troops 20; naval 32; nuclear 31; odds of swift victory 19; power decline 27; risks 21; Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 37–55; socioeconomic costs 20; strategic surprise 22–3 Austria-Hungary 40, 61–2; declaration of war on Serbia 67; offensive capability 63; sick man of Europe 60 Austro-German alliance: gross national product (GNP) 64 axis of evil 131 Baden Charge d’Affaires 66 Bairoch, P. 147 Balkan politics 45 Balkan war 65 Berchtold, L. 62 Berlin: Congress of 46, 51, 53, 55; Treaty of 46 Bethmann Hollweg, Chancellor T. von 61, 65, 66, 67, 71–2, 76 bipolar system 6, 110 Bismarck, O. von 25, 39, 46, 48, 54–5; Bismarckian Peace 54; diplomatic skills 54–5 blackmail strategy 65 Blainey, G. 8 Brecht, B. 35

British Expeditionary Force (BEF) 63 British–German rivalry 83 brute force 15 Buchanan, G. 76 Bulgaria 40–1, 48 Bush, President G.W. 131, 134, 140 case selection 9–10 case universe: description of 123 Causes of War (Van Evera) 11, 106 Central Command (CENTCOM) 133 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) 143 China 13, 129–31; rise of 1, 116, 129–31; US military strategy against 130–1 Clausewitz, C. von 15, 16, 19, 33 Clinton, President W. 133, 135 coalition warfare 29 command, control and communication (C3) 16–17 compensation 3; attrition strategy 22–3; maneuver strategy 23–4; methods 24; service as 25; territorial 24–5 Congress of Berlin 46, 51, 53, 55 Copeland, D. 11, 57, 80–1, 108, 147 Correlates of War (COW) project 148 cult of the offensive 74–6 decapitation strategy 32 decision-making: and military strategy 134 declining state 3, 7, 25, 122; military strategy 18; strategic planners of 9 defense: attack as best 79; penetration of 17 defense-dominance 6 defensive capability 8 defensive counter-maneuver strategy 24 democracy 128 Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) 135; limited intelligence capability 138

210

Index

diplomacy 3, 8, 12; failure 4, 71, 77, 100, 107, 109, 128; failure before World War I (1914–18) 71; opportunity before Pacific War (1941) 95–100, 106, 108; opportunity before World War I (1914–18) 56–7, 64–71, 75, 81; opportunity for 18, 22–5, 119–20; opportunity in Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 37, 45–9, 50, 52 diplomatic settlement 24; Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 48–9 Dreikaiserbund: collapse of 46, 53; see also Three Emperors’ League dynamic differentials theory 5–6; flaws 7–8; hypotheses 126–7; opportunity for diplomacy 119; opportunity for war 119; and Pacific War (1941) 88–9, 108–11; performance 126–7; preventive motive 119; and Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 38, 51–3; and World War I (1914–18) 57, 80–3 economic growth: uneven rates 1 economic power shifts 9 emergent nuclear powers 131–43 Falkenhayn, E. von 72 Ferdinand, Archduke F.: assassination of 61, 64 First World War see World War I Fischer, F. 73, 86 flanking maneuver 16–17, 35, 58, 70, 77, 80, 94, 137 France: attrition strategy 70; military confidence 69–70, 82; Plan XVII 70; support for Russia 69 Franks, T. 134 Frederick the Great 17, 24 Fukudome, S. 104, 112 Fuller, W.C. Jr. 44–5 Garthoff, R. 44 geography 5, 11 Germany 10, 37–55; aims (1914) 64–6; army share in state expenditure (1881–90) 42; Bismarckian 11–12, 37–55; Bismarckian Peace 54; British–German rivalry 83; conquest of Poland (1939) 33; defense expenditure (1870–90) 40; diplomatic strategy (1914) 64–6; energy consumption (1870–90) 40; establishment of Empire (1871) 39; fear of losing maneuver strategy 63–4; gross national product (GNP) (1870) 39; iron and steel industry 39; military confidence 73, 85, 118; military strategy 58–9; mobilization capability 40; offensive through Belgium (1914) 34; perception of maneuver

strategy 73–4; perception of military opportunity 79; power decline 63; RussoGerman estrangement (1877–80) 45–7; Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 10, 37–55; Schlieffen Plan 12, 17, 56–87 Giers, N.K. 48 Glaser, C.L. 34, 146 good intelligence 17, 33; maneuver strategy 33; Pearl Harbor attack (1941) 90; Schlieffen Plan 84 Gorchakov, A.M. 44, 46, 48, 51 Great Depression 90 great powers 9; power shifts (since 1860) 10 Grey, E. 67 gross domestic product (GDP) 9, 147; Japan (1925–41) 91; Japan (1933–41) 91; US (1925–41) 91; US (1933–41) 91 gross national product (GNP) 7, 147; AustroGerman alliance 64; Germany (1870) 39; percentage distribution among major powers 164; Russia (1870) 39; Russia (1890–1913) 59; Triple Entente 64 Gulf War (1991) 16, 33, 34, 138; Operation Instant Thunder 33; see also Iraq Hamas 144 Hezbollah 144 highly enriched uranium (HEU) 136 historical patterns 121–7 Hötzendorf, C. von 62, 82 Hu Jintao, President 129 Hull, C. 95–8; Hull note 98, 101, 107 Hull–Nomura talk 95–8 Hussein, S. 133, 134–5, 145; nuclear ambition 133 inferior strategy 26, 27 intelligence: good 17, 33, 84, 90 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) 135 international relations theory 13, 127 Iran 13, 131, 141–5; new government 142; nuclear program 141–5; US maneuver strategies towards 143 Iraq 13, 131, 132–5; invasion (2003) 2, 132; nuclear program 132–5; US maneuver strategy against 133; US policy towards 133; weapons of mass destruction (WMD) 132–3; see also Gulf War (1991) Ishikawa, Captain S. 102 Israel 2, 144; air force 144 Italy 61 Jagow, G. von 61, 66 Japan 88–115; attrition strategy 89; deadlock of decision-making 105; economy (1933–41) 90–1; energy consumption

Index 211 (1933–41) 91; fear of losing maneuver strategy 115; gross domestic product (GDP) (1925–41) 91; gross domestic product (GDP) (1933–41) 91; intelligence 112; iron and steel industry (1933–41) 91; maneuver strategy 12, 90, 100, 105; maritime strategy (1940–1) 89–90; military confidence 108, 110, 118; military expenditure (1933–41) 91–2; naval replenishment program 92; oil consumption 92, 103; Pearl Harbor attack (1941) 12, 31, 88–115; ratios of warships to US (1942–44) 92; strategy of interceptive operation 102, 104 Jhilinski, Y. 68 Joffre, J. 69–70 Kaiser Wilhelm II 61, 80 Katkov, M.N. 46 Kaufmann, C. 34, 146 Kaya, O. 97 Khan, A.Q. 136 Kido, K. 96 Kim Jong Il 138, 145 Kissinger, H. 54 knowledge-dependent strategy 18 Konoe, Prime Minister F. 96, 103, 105–6, 109 Korean War (1950–3) 31–2; estimated costs of a second war 139 Krivoshein, A.V. 79 Krobatin, R. von 62 Kugler, J. 7, 147 leadership; military 5 Lerchenfeld, H. 73, 82–3 Liaison Conference (1941) 102 Lichnowsky, K.M. 66, 76 light-water reactors (LWRs) 135 limited aims strategy 14 Ludendorff, E. 63 Luttwak, E. 21 MacArthur, General D. 31–2 McCain, J. 144 maneuver strategy 2–5, 12, 14, 15–18, 20–1, 26–7, 28, 122, 133–4, 143; air 32; compensation 23–4; deceptive nature 90, 100; fear of losing 118; fighting costs 20; German perception of 73–4; Germany’s fear of losing 63–4; good intelligence 33, 90; high risk 21; Japan 12, 90, 100, 105; Japan’s fear of losing 115; naval 31–2; nuclear 30; odds of swift victory 20; Pearl Harbor attack (1941) 88–115; power decline 26–7; Schlieffen Plan 56–87; socioeconomic costs 20–1; strategic

deception 17–18, 20; strategic paralysis 15–16; strategic surprise 23; superior form of warfare 34 material superiority 7–8 Matsuoka, Y. 96 Mearsheimer, J. 14 Meek, C. 128 Messimy, A. 69 military capability 3 military decline 6, 8 military leadership 5, 120–1 military optimism 24, 128 military power 18, 147; AustriaHungary–Russia (1890–1914) 163; Britain–Germany (1890–1914) 162; Britain–Germany (1925–39) 162–3; Britain–United States (1860–1914) 162; distribution (1860–1941) 161; distribution (1946–85) 161; France–Germany (1860–70) 160; France–Germany (1880–1914) 163; France–Germany (1929–39) 163; Germany–Russia (1890–1914) 161; Germany–Soviet Union (1925–41) 162; Japan–Russia (1880–1904) 161; Japan–United States (1933–41) 163; Russia–Germany (1870–90) 162; Soviet Union–United States (1970–85) 163; United States–Soviet Union (1946–61) 163 military strategy 2–5; AustriaHungary–Russia (1890–1914) 152; Britain–Germany (1890–1914) 150; Britain–Germany (1925–39) 151; Britain–United States (1860–1914) 150; classification 14–18; coding procedure 146–8; and conditions for preventive war 18–28; and decision-making 134; diplomatic implications 4; France–Germany (1860–70) 148; France–Germany (1890–1914) 149; France–Germany (1929–39) 150–1; Germany–Russia (1890–1914) 149; Germany–Soviet Union (1925–41) 149; Japan–Russia (1880–1904) 148–9; Japan–United States (1933–41) 151; Russia–Germany (1870–90) 149; sources of 33–5, 53–4, 84–5, 112–13; Soviet Union–United States (1970–85) 151; United States–Soviet Union (1946–61) 151 military superiority 6 Miliutin, D.A. 39, 42, 44, 48; rearmament program 44, 47 Moltke, H. von 60–1, 63, 69, 71–2, 73, 74, 78, 82, 85–6 motive for war 6 multipolar environment 8 mutual assured destruction (MAD) 30 Myers, R. 139

212

Index

Nagano, O. 93, 102, 105, 109, 112 national power indicators 7 national security 25 naval attrition strategy 32 naval maneuver strategy 31–2 naval warfare 31–3, 88 Nomura, K. 95–8 North Korea 2, 13, 131, 132, 135–41; demilitarized zone (DMZ) 137; nuclear program 135–41; US attrition strategy towards 136; weapons of mass destruction (WMD) 140 nuclear attrition strategy 31 nuclear decapitation 30 nuclear maneuver strategy 30 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (1969) 132 Nuclear Posture Review (2002) 138 nuclear powers: emergent 131–45 nuclear program: Iran 141–5; Iraq 132–5; North Korea 135–41 nuclear strategy: character of 30 nuclear warfare 29–31 nuclear weapons proliferation 2 Obruchev, N.N. 40, 41–2, 43, 50 offense: faith in 74–5 offense-defense balance 11, 34, 146–7; Austria-Hungary–Russia (1890–1914) 159–60; Britain–Germany (1890–1914) 155; Britain–Germany (1925–39) 156–7; Britain–United States (1860–1914) 156; France–Germany (1860–70) 152–3; France–Germany (1880–1914) 159; France–Germany (1929–39) 159; Germany–Russia (1890–1914) 153–4; Germany–Soviet Union (1925–41) 154–5; Japan–Russia (1880–1904) 153; Japan–United States (1933–41) 157–8; Russia–Germany (1870–90) 155; Soviet Union–United States (1970–85) 158–9; United States–Soviet Union (1946–61) 158 offense–defense theory 6; flaws 8; hypotheses 126; opportunity for diplomacy 119; opportunity for war 118–19; and Pacific War (1941) 88, 106–8; performance 118–19, 126; preventive motive 118; and Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 38, 50–1; testing with alternative codings 160; and World War I (1914–18) 57, 74–5 offensive: cult of 74–6 Oikawa, K. 96, 105 Okada, Admiral K. 103 Okazaki, A. 93–4 opportunity for diplomacy 18, 22–5; dynamic differentials theory 119; offense–defense theory 119; Pacific War (1941) 95–100,

106, 108; power transition theory 120; Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 37, 45–9, 50, 52; World War I (1914–18) 56–7, 64–71, 75, 81 opportunity for war 18, 19–22; dynamic differentials theory 119; offense–defense theory 118–19; Pacific War (1941) 101–6, 109; power transition theory 120; RussoGerman rapprochement (1870–90) 37, 43–5, 50, 52; World War I (1914–18) 57, 71–4, 75, 81 Organski, A.F.K. 7, 147 Origins of Major Wars (Copeland) 11 Pacific War (1941) 12, 88–115; alternative explanation 113; breakdown of diplomacy 100, 107, 109; and dynamic differentials theory 88–9, 108–11; Hull–Nomura talk 95–8; Japan’s preventive motive 107, 109; and offense–defense theory 88, 106–8; opportunity for diplomacy 95–100, 106, 108; opportunity for war 101–6, 108; Pearl Harbor attack 88–115; and power transition theory 89, 111–12; preventive motive 93–5, 106, 108; sources of military strategy 112–13; Tokyo’s aims 95–8; US failure to understand Japan’s strategic intent 112; US rejection of Japanese demands 98–100; see also World War II (1939–45) Pakistan 138 Paléologue, M. 69 pan-Slavism 48 Pan-Slavist agitation 65 parity see power transition Pearl Harbor attack (1941) 12, 31, 88–115; deceptive nature 90, 100; flanking maneuver 94; good intelligence 90; maneuver strategy 88–115 Peloponnesian War 1 penetration maneuver 17, 35 performance of theories 124 Perry, W. 140 Poincaré, President R. 69, 77 Poland 24–5; German conquest (1939) 33 political motive 5 Powell, C. 16, 140 power decline 5, 26–7; attrition strategy 27; Germany 63; maneuver strategy 26–7; Russia 41 power shift theories 5–8; performance of 124; scorecard for 117 power shifts: among great powers (since 1860) 10; economic 9; military 9 power transition 147; Austria-Hungary–Russia (1890–1914) 165; Britain–Germany (1890–1914) 165; Britain–Germany

Index 213 (1925–39) 166; Britain–United States (1860–1914) 165; France–Germany (1860–70) 164; France–Germany (1880–1914) 165; France–Germany (1929–39) 165; Germany–Russia (1890–1914) 164; Germany–Soviet Union (1925–41) 164; Japan–Russia (1880–1904) 164; Japan–United States (1933–41) 165; Russia–Germany (1870–90) 165; Soviet Union–United States (1970–85) 166; United States–Soviet Union (1946–61) 166 power transition theory 5; flaws 6–7; hypotheses 127; opportunity for diplomacy 120; opportunity for war 120; and Pacific War (1941) 89, 111–12; performance 127; preventive motive 119–20; and RussoGerman rapprochement (1870–90) 38, 53; and World War I (1914–18) 57, 83–4 preventive motive 18, 25–7; dynamic differentials theory 119; offense–defense theory 118; Pacific War (1941) 93–5, 106; power transition theory 119–20; RussoGerman rapprochement (1870–90) 37, 41–3, 50, 52; World War I (1914–18) 56, 60–4, 75, 81 preventive war 3; diplomatic dimension 4; strategic theory of 14–36 Prince Alexander of Battenberg 49 psychological dislocation 20 punishment strategy 14, 32 Rafsanjani, A.H. 142 Reinsurance Treaty 39, 49, 53 Reiter, D. 128 resource-based strategy 18 Reutern, M.K. 42, 43, 50 Rice, C. 140 Rich, D. 45 rising state 3, 8 risk strategy 32 Rumsfeld, D. 134 Russia 10, 25, 37–55; annexation of Bessarabia 40–1; army share in state expenditure (1881–90) 42; attrition strategy 11–12, 37–55, 118; countermaneuver strategy 69; defense expenditure (1870–90) 40, 43; defense of Serbia 67–8; deficient rail system 52; energy consumption (1870–90) 40; energy consumption (1890–1913) 59; firm stance (1914) 67–71; French support 69; gross national product (GNP) (1870) 39; gross national product (GNP) (1890–1913) 59; industrialization (1890–1913) 59; iron and steel industry 39; military confidence 68; military expenditure (1890–1913) 59; military infrastructure (1890–1913) 60;

military pessimism 44–5, 51, 118; military strategy (1870–90) 38–9; mobilization (1914) 72; mobilization capability 40; power decline 41 Russian coalition 60 Russian nationalism 48 Russo-German estrangement (1877–80) 45–7 Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 10, 37–55; attrition strategy 37–55; diplomatic settlement 48–9; and dynamic differentials theory 38, 51–3; and offense–defense theory 38, 50–1; opportunity for diplomacy 37, 45–9, 50, 52; opportunity for war 37, 43–5, 50, 52; and power transition theory 38, 53; preventive motive 37, 41–3, 50, 52; sources of military strategy 53–4 Russo-Japanese War (1904–5) 125–6 Russo-Turkish War (1877–8) 40, 45 Sagan, S. 77 Sazonov, S. 67, 78–9 Schlieffen, A. von 63–4, 73, 84, 120–1 Schlieffen Plan 12, 17, 56–87, 118; deceptive nature 58–9, 64, 70; flanking maneuver 58, 70, 80; good intelligence 84; maneuver strategy 56–87; origin of 84–5; sources of military strategy 84–5; strategic intentions 62 Schwarzkopf, General N. 34 Schweller, R. 128 Second World War see World War II (1939–45) security threat 9 September 11 terrorist attacks (2001) 133 Serbia 61–2, 67; Austro-Hungarian declaration of war on 67; destruction of 65, 78; Russian defense of 67–8; war against Turkey (1876) 45 service as compensation 25 Shigetaro, S. 94 Shinichi, General T. 102 Shuvalov, P. 48 six party talks (2003) 136 Snyder, J. 76, 113–14 status quo: dissatisfaction with 5, 7; maintenance of 54 strategic mobility 18 strategic theory 9, 14–36, 116, 122; hypotheses 14, 28, 36, 122 Stürgkh, K. von 62 Sugiyama, H. 94, 108, 109 Sukhomlinov, V.A. 68 Sun Tzu 16, 17 tactical success 19

214

Index

technology 5, 11, 35 Teheran 2 territorial compensation 24–5 The War Ledger (Organski and Kugler) 147 theory: dynamic differentials 5–6, 7–8, 38, 51–3, 57, 88–9, 108–11, 119, 126–7; offense–defense 6, 8, 38, 50–1, 57, 74–5, 88, 106–8, 119, 126; power shift 5–8, 117; power transition 5, 6–7, 38, 53, 57, 83–4, 89, 111–12, 119–20, 127; strategic 9, 14–36, 116, 122 Three Emperors’ League: agreements 39, 47, 49; see also Dreikaiserbund Thucydides 1 Tirpitz, A. von 83 Togo, S. 97, 101, 106, 109 Tojo, Prime Minister H. 96, 101, 106, 109–10 Tomioka, Captain S. 102 Toyoda, T. 96 Treaty of Berlin 46 Triple Entente 69; gross national product (GNP) 64; military capability 66 Tsar Alexander 42–3, 44, 46, 48 unconventional warfare 138 United States of America (USA) 88–115; Agreed Framework 135–6; aid to China 98; attrition strategy towards North Korea 136; economy (1933–41) 90–1; energy consumption (1933–41) 91; failure to understand Japan’s strategic intent 112; gross domestic product (GDP) (1925–41) 91; gross domestic product (GDP) (1933–41) 91; ignorance of Japan’s deceptive maneuver strategy 100; industrial might 103; iron and steel industry (1933–41) 91; maneuver strategies towards Iran 143; maneuver strategy against Iraq 133; military confidence against Japan 99–100; military expenditure (1933–41) 91–2; military strategy against China 130–1; National Council of Resistance of Iran (NCRI) 142; National Security Strategy (2002) 1, 131; oil 103; Operation Desert Fox (1998) 133; Operation Iraqi Freedom 133; Operation Korean Freedom 137; Operation Plan 5027 (war plan) 136; Operational Plan 1003 V 133; policy towards Iraq 133; Rainbow No. 5 (war plan) 99, 100, 104; ratios of warships to Japan (1942–44) 92; Stark Plan 92; Vinson Plan 92 US Air Force 138 US Forces in Korea (USFK) 136, 138 US Marine Corps 137 US Pacific Fleet 90, 103–4, 112

US–China relations 13, 116, 130 Van Evera, S. 11, 57, 74–5, 79, 106 Vannovskii, P.S. 50 Waldersee, G. von 61 war: Balkan 65; Gulf (1991) 16, 33, 34, 138; Korean (1950–3) 31–2; of miscalculation 141; motive 6; opportunity before Pacific War (1941) 101–6, 109; opportunity before World War I (1914–18) 57, 71–4; opportunity for 18, 19–22, 118–20; opportunity in Russo-German rapprochement (1870–90) 37, 43–5, 50, 52; Pacific 12, 88–115; Peloponnesian 1; Russo-Japanese (1904–5) 125–6; RussoTurkish (1877–78) 40, 45; World War I (1914–18) 12, 56–87; World War II (1939–45) 17 war initiators: Austria-Hungary–Russia (1890–1914) 167; Britain–Germany (1890–1914) 167; Britain–Germany (1925–39) 167; France–Germany (1860–70) 166; France–Germany (1880–1914) 167; France–Germany (1929–39) 167; Germany–Russia (1890–1914) 166; Germany–Soviet Union (1925–41) 166; Japan–Russia (1880–1904) 166; Japan–United States (1933–41) 167 War Ledger Data 147 war-promoting conditions 3–4 weapons of mass destruction (WMD): Iraq 132–3; North Korea 140 Willnott, H.P. 114–15 Wilson, General H. 76 windpipe concept 85–6 World War I (1914–18) 12, 56–87; AlsaceLorraine frontier 70, 77; Belgian frontier 58; and dynamic differentials theory 57, 80–3; failure of diplomacy 71, 77; French frontier 58; German challenge to British supremacy 83; Germany’s confidence in victory 82; Germany’s preventive motive 76; inadvertent escalation 77; and offense–defense theory 57, 74–5; opportunity for diplomacy 56–7, 64–71, 75, 81; opportunity for war 57, 71–4, 75, 81; and power transition theory 57, 83–4; preventive motive 56, 60–4, 75, 81; Schlieffen Plan 12, 17, 56–87 World War II (1939–45) 17, 88–115; Pearl Harbor attack (1941) 88–115; see also Pacific War (1941) Yamamoto, Admiral I. 12, 90, 94–5, 102–4, 112, 113, 120–1