A truly global economy is probably impossible to achieve. In
fact, as the Princeton political economist Robert Gilpin has
said, "what today we call international economic interdependence
runs so counter to the great bulk of human experience that only
extraordinary changes and novel circumstances could have led to
its innovation and triumph over other means of economic
exchange." Historically, to secure international capitalism a
dominant power must guarantee the security of other states, so
that they need not pursue autarkic policies or form trading
blocs to improve their relative positions. This suspension of
international politics through hegemony has been the fundamental
aim of US foreign policy since the 1940s. The real story of that
policy is not the thwarting of and triumph over the Soviet
threat but the effort to impose an ambitious economic vision on
a recalcitrant world.
Nurturing - and Constraining - the Fragile Blossom
The overriding objective of US post-war policy toward East Asia
was restoring Japanese economic power. To be sure, this would
help to immunise the region against Communist expansion; but
Acheson and the other creators of the American Century thought
the goal itself vital, regardless of the Soviet threat. As the
historians William Borden, Bruce Cumings, Ronald McGlothlen, and
Michael Schaller have argued, in attempting to create a global
economic system Washington pursued a course designed in essence
to restore the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere -
imperial Japan's regional economy, which the United States had
just destroyed in the Second World War. If Japan was to help
fuel the world economy, it would have to be, in Acheson's
words, "the workshop of Asia." American post-war planners viewed
the political economy that had developed in Northeast Asia from
about 1900 to 1945 as the region's natural economy - a
tripartite system in which Japan, given access to continental
markets and raw materials, formed the industrial core and its
neighbours formed the economic semi-periphery and periphery. As
Japan advanced in the product cycle, climbing up the
technological ladder, it spun off its low-technology and low-
wage industries to its neighbours.
In the late 1940s and 1950s the United States essentially
restored this system; but the machine could not run by itself.
Washington had to ensure that Japan's neighbours would feel
secure politically in the regional hierarchy atop which Japan
stood. Washington also had to ensure that the hierarchy did not
develop - as it had in the past - into a Japanese-led closed
economic bloc, which would threaten the world economy. NSC 48,
the National Security Council's 1949 blueprint for America's
Cold War Strategy in East Asia, summed up the chief difficulty
facing Washington's economic goals in the region - and around
the globe. Starting with the premise that "the economic life of
the modern world is geared to expansion," requiring "the
establishment of conditions favourable to the export of
technology and capital and to a liberal trade policy throughout
the world," NSC 48's authors went on to warn that "the
complexity of international trade makes it well to bear in mind
that such ephemeral matters as national pride and ambition can
inhibit or prevent the necessary degree of international co-
operation, or the development of a favourable atmosphere and
conditions to promote economic expansion."
The distinguished historian and diplomat George Kennan, then the
head of the State Department's policy-planning staff, saw only
one solution to what he described as the "terrible dilemma"
confronting US ambitions in East Asia. Forty-seven years later
Washington continues to pursue that course.
By providing for Japan's security and by enmeshing its foreign
and military policies in a US-controlled alliance, Americans
have contained their erstwhile enemy, preventing their "partner"
from embarking on independent - and, so the thinking goes,
dangerous - political and military policies. By restraining its
powerful ally, Washington has, to use a euphemism favoured in
policy-making circles, "reassured" Japan's neighbours and
stabilised relations among the states of East Asia. The United
States played the decisive role in promoting Tokyo's integration
with its former colonies in Japan-centred regional trade
networks that have been the foundation of East Asia's
economic "miracle". South Korea and Taiwan, for example,
overcame their fear and resentment of Japan and opened their
doors to Japanese investment and trade.
In a series of revealing interviews published in 1970 the former
under-secretary of state Eugene Rostoe was pressed to explain
the motivations underlying US foreign policy generally and US
policy toward Vietnam specifically. In doing so he betrayed the
lingering and profound distrust that US policy makers feel
toward any powerful state that could play a role in world
politics more independent than the one the United States has
assigned to it. At a time when America was involved in Southeast
Asia ostensibly to draw a line against international communism,
Rostow admitted, "I think the major concern - at least my major
concern - in this miserable affair is the long-range impact a
[US] withdrawal would have on Japanese policy." He
explained, "After the Japanese lost the war they reached certain
conclusions, the principal one being that it was infinitely
better to co-operate with the United States than to follow a
hostile, militaristic line. Now, it's greatly to our interest to
have that judgement proved correct. If the United States
abruptly pulled out of Vietnam, Rostow went on, "I think the
Japanese will draw certain conclusions. And I think their policy
will take on a much more nationalistic cast... I think the first
thing that would happen would be that they wouldn't ratify the
nuclear non-proliferation treaty. They would feel compelled to
become a nuclear power." This would endanger the imperative that
America preserve "a world of wide horizons in which we can move
around and trade and travel on a large scale."
America as "Adult Supervisor"
America's Cold War policy is best understood not by its
communism-containing words but by its ally-containing deeds.
Washington committed itself to building and maintaining an
international economic and political order based on what
officials at the time termed a US "preponderance of power". By
banishing power politics and nationalist rivalries, America's
Cold War alliances in East Asia and Europe in effect protected
the states of those regions from themselves.
The United States has not subjugated colonies but, like Great
Britain in the nineteenth century, has built and benefited
economically from a stable international political order. In
this way Lenin was right: imperialism is, or allows for, "the
highest stage of capitalism" - an open economy among the
industrialised nations.
In explaining its global strategy in 1993, in its "post-Cold
War" defence strategy, the Pentagon defined the creation of "a
prosperous, largely democratic, market-oriented zone of peace
and prosperity that encompasses more than two-thirds of the
world's economy" as "perhaps our nation's most significant
achievement since the Second World War" - not the victory over
Moscow. And it declared that this global capitalist order
required the "stability" that only American "leadership" could
provide. Ultimately, of course, US policy makers and Lenin
diverge. America's foreign-policy strategists have hoped to keep
the reality of international politics permanently at bay.
Although the Cold War has ended, what National Security Advisor
Anthony Lake calls the "imperative of continued US world
leadership" - as exercised, for instance, in America's dominance
of its alliances in East Asia and of NATO - remains necessary to
maintain a global economy. The now-infamous draft of the
Pentagon's defence plan, or the Defence Planning Guidance, which
was leaked to The New York Times in 1992, gave the public an
unprecedented glimpse of the thinking that informs Washington's
security strategy, merely stating in somewhat undiplomatic
language the logic behind America's Cold War strategy. The
United States, it argued, must continue to dominate the
international system and thus "discourage" the "advanced
industrial nations from challenging our leadership or... even
aspiring to a larger regional or global role." To accomplish
this, America must do nothing less than "retain the pre-eminent
responsibility for addressing... those wrongs which threaten not
only our interests, but those of our allies or friends, or which
could seriously unsettle international relations."
The United States, in other words, must provide what one of the
Planning Guidance's authors termed "adult supervision". It must
not only dominate regions composed of wealthy and
technologically sophisticated states but also take care of such
nuisances such as Saddam Hussein, Slobodan Milosevic, and North
Korea's dictator Kim Jong Il, to protect the interests of
virtually all potential great powers so that they need not
acquire the capability to protect themselves - that is, so that
those great powers need not act like great powers. Thus, for
instance, Washington must protect Germany's and Japan's access
to Persian Gulf oil, because if these countries were to protect
their own interests in the Gulf, they would develop military
forces capable of global "power projection". No wonder the
United States must spend more on its "national security" than
the rest of the world's countries combined. This post-Cold War
strategy reflects what the historian Melvyn Leffler defined as
an imperative of America's Cold War national-security policy:
that "neither an integrated Europe nor a united Germany nor an
independent Japan must be permitted to emerge as a third force."
Only in this context can Washington's concerns regarding current
developments in East Asia be properly understood. For instance,
in 1993 Alberto Coll, then a deputy assistant secretary of
defence, clarified US aims in East Asia. "In the future," Coll
declared in the Washington Quarterly,
the stability of the Pacific Basin and a strong US-Japanese
relationship will be more important to the United States than
ever before. The US economy needs the vast markets of the
Pacific Rim, and it benefits enormously from Japanese investment
capital and technology and the impetus toward greater
productivity provided by the Japanese competition.
All these benefits would be lost, according to Coll, if
the "traditional rivalries among Asian powers... unravel into
unrestrained military competition, conflict and aggression." In
the same vein the author of the Clinton Administration's
security strategy for East Asia, Joseph Nye, then the assistant
secretary of defence, asserted last year that the US military
protectorate is "the basis for stability and prosperity in the
region"; if the United States were to forsake its "leadership
role" in East Asia, "the stable expectations of entrepreneurs
and investors [would] be subverted." Although the United States
committed forces to Japan ostensibly to protect it from the
Soviets, and to South Korea to protect it from the North, in
1993 the deputy defence secretary, William Perry, declared that
America would continue to reassure and stabilise East Asia by
maintaining troops "permanently" in Japan and even in a future
unified Korea.
The Domino Theory Revisited
To Washington, East Asia is still composed of dominoes ready to
fall. "Renationalisation", a term used by the cognoscenti to
mean the resumption of international politics, could start
virtually anywhere and spread rapidly. In one of Aaron
Friedberg's many nightmare scenarios one can almost hear the
click of fallen dominoes:
The nuclearisation of Korea (North, South, or whether through
reunification or competitive arms programs both together) could
lead to a similar development in Japan, which might cause China
to accelerate and expand its nuclear programs, which could then
have an impact on the defence policies of Taiwan, India (and
through it, Pakistan) and Russia (which would also be affected
by events in Japan and Korea)... similar shock waves could also
travel through the system in different directions (for example,
from India to China to Japan to Korea).
Friedberg and other national-security analysts paint a similarly
gloomy picture in Southeast Asia if, for example, Japan should
undertake a military build-up in response to Korean
reunification. Japan's reaction would alarm China - the emerging
colossus, which US defence planners now regard as the most
serious potential long-term threat to America's global position.
China would speed up the development of its "power projection"
forces. This would alarm Korea, Taiwan, and Japan - and also
Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Vietnam. Their defensive
response would further alarm China.
Such developments, from Washington's perspective, would have one
of two results, either of which would shatter the global
economy: international anarchy, or regional dominance by China
or Japan, which policy makers believe would lead inevitably to a
regional trading bloc. Arguing in 1992 for the maintenance of
America's leadership of its Cold War alliances, a high-ranking
Pentagon official asked, "If we pull out, who knows what
nervousness will result?" The problem, of course, is that
America can never know. According to this logic, it must always
stay.
To the United States, the best change in East Asia is no change
at all, because any alteration in the status quo could start the
dominoes falling. And if there is to be change, Washington - not
Tokyo or Beijing - must manage it. To permit otherwise would
send a dangerous signal about America's diminishing ability to
regulate, calibrate, and manipulate international politics in
East Asia. Of course, Washington appreciates that change is
inevitable, and its frustration comes from being unable to
square the circle - to manage an increasingly unmanageable world.
Although the United States remains committed to preserving the
Pax Americana in East Asia, the states in the region see US
influence inexorably declining, and they are planning
accordingly. South Korea, for example, is reorienting its
military away from an emphasis on the threat from the North and
toward projecting power against a future threat from Japan by
means of naval and air forces, submarines, spy planes, and
satellites. The problem is that in prudently preparing for
similar eventualities the East Asian states may indeed, as
Washington fears, precipitate renationalisation.
At a loss for what to do, US policy makers propose two
contradictory solutions. On the assumption that democracies are
inherently peaceful toward one another, one solution goes, the
United States should tranquillise East Asia by democratising it.
At the same time, the second solution has it, because only
American dominance can ensure stability in the region (as in
Europe), the United States should maintain its hegemony
indefinitely. Leaving aside the question of whether either goal
can be achieved, it should be clear that proposing these
solutions is as inconsistent as simultaneously asserting, as do
most in the US national-security community, that although
democracies pose no danger to other democracies, America must
continue to contain Germany and Japan.
The hope and fear with which policy makers view economic change
in East Asia illustrates the contradictory convictions that
animate US policy. Washington both heralds the economic dynamism
of the Pacific Rim, hoping it will bring democracy and peace and
worldwide economic growth, and dreads the Asian miracle. It
knows that just as economic change endangers a shift in
political and military power, so a particular economic order is
jeopardised as the foundation upon which it rests - US hegemony -
weakens. In the oxymoronic vocabulary of US diplomacy,
strong "partners" are economically welcome and indeed necessary,
but US "leadership" is indispensable. Zbigniew Brzezinski, who
developed the idea of a trilateral division of responsibility
among the United States, Japan and Europe, calls for Washington
to develop "a more co-operative partnership" with Tokyo even as
he asserts that America must continue to control Japan
militarily.
Losing Ground
There is something at once poignant and obtuse in James Baker's
comment that because President Clinton's foreign policy lacks
consistency and firmness, "for the first time since the Second
World War, Japan is not delivering an automatic vote for the US
position." Sticking his head in the sand, the former Secretary
of State claimed that such problems could be obviated "as long
as America leads... We have to lead." Japan's actions are
certainly related to a decline in US leadership, but that
decline is not the fault of what Baker would characterise as
Clinton's weak foreign policy. No matter who is in charge of US
foreign policy, America is less and less able to lead. Baker
seems to have forgotten that America's leadership in the Gulf
War was possible only because its allies agreed to pick up the
tab. Given such leadership, it is no surprise that once-
subservient "partners" are increasingly going their own way.
Preponderance cannot simply be asserted; it must reflect a
position based on power. When that position shifts enough,
preponderance - "leadership" - is lost.
Lenin argued seventy-eight years ago that international
capitalism would be economically successful but, by growing in a
world of competitive states, would plant the seeds of its own
destruction. Ironically, the worldwide economic system that the
United States has fostered has itself largely determined
America's relative decline even as it has contributed to the
country's economic growth. Through trade, foreign investment,
and the spread of technology and managerial expertise, economic
power has diffused from the United States to new centres of
growth, thus undermining American hegemony and ultimately
jeopardising the world economy.
Nearly everyone applauds today's complex web of global trade,
production, and finance as the highest stage of capitalism. But
international capitalism may be approaching a crisis just as it
is reaching its fullest flower. A genuinely interdependent world
market is extraordinarily fragile. The emergent high-technology
industries, for instance, are the most powerful engines of
economic world growth, but they require a level of
specialisation and a breadth of markets that are possible only
in an integrated global economy. As US hegemony continues to
weaken, renationalised foreign and economic policies among the
industrialised powers could fragment that economy.
The future of a foreign policy designed to strengthen what the
United States must contain and, at the same time, to maintain an
economic order that weakens the very foundation of that order
seems evident: it will collapse under the weight of its own
contradictions. The United States remains caught in the dilemma
Kennan discerned more than forty years ago: "To what
end 'security'? For the continuation of our economic expansion?
But our economic expansion... cannot proceed much further
without... creating new problems of national security much more
rapidly than we can ever hope to solve them." To escape this
dilemma, Americans will have to understand the foreign policy
that is conducted in their name and re-examine the requirements
for their own security and prosperity.