In the most frequently cited one-liner in the study of international relations, the ancient Greek historian Thucydides explained, It was the rise of Athens and the fear that this instilled in Sparta that made war inevitable.
Thucydides wrote about the Peloponnesian War, a conflict that engulfed his homeland, the city-state of Athens, in the fifth century BCE, and which in time came to consume almost the entirety of ancient Greece. A former soldier, Thucydides watched as Athens challenged the dominant Greek power of the day, the martial city-state of Sparta. He observed the outbreak of armed hostilities between the two powers and detailed the fighting’s horrific toll. He did not live to see its bitter end, when a weakened Sparta finally vanquished Athens, but it is just as well for him.
While others identified an array of contributing causes of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides went to the heart of the matter. When he turned the spotlight on the rise of Athens and the fear that this instilled in Sparta, he identified a primary driver at the root of some of history’s most catastrophic and puzzling wars. Intentions aside, when a rising power threatens to displace a ruling power, the resulting structural stress makes a violent clash the rule, not the exception. It happened between Athens and Sparta in the fifth century BCE, between Germany and Britain a century ago, and almost led to war between the Soviet Union and the United States in the 1950s and 1960s.
Like so many others, Athens believed its advance to be benign. Over the half century that preceded the conflict, it had emerged as a steeple of civilization. Philosophy, drama, architecture, democracy, history, and naval prowess—Athens had it all, beyond anything previously seen under the sun. Its rapid development began to threaten Sparta, which had grown accustomed to its position as the dominant power on the Peloponnese. As Athenian confidence and pride grew, so too did its demands for respect and expectations that arrangements be revised to reflect new realities of power. These were, Thucydides tells us, natural reactions to its changing station. How could Athenians not believe that their interests deserved more weight? How could Athenians not expect that they should have greater influence in resolving differences?
But it was also natural, Thucydides explained, that Spartans should see the Athenian claims as unreasonable, and even ungrateful. Who, Spartans rightly asked, provided the security environment that allowed Athens to flourish? As Athens swelled with a growing sense of its own importance, and felt entitled to greater say and sway, Sparta reacted with insecurity, fear, and a determination to defend the status quo.
Similar dynamics can be found in a host of other settings, indeed even in families. When a young man’s adolescent surge poses the prospect that he will overshadow his older sibling (or even his father), what do we expect? Should the allocation of bedrooms, or closet space, or seating be adjusted to reflect relative size as well as age? In alpha-dominated species like gorillas, as a potential successor grows larger and stronger, both the pack leader and the wannabe prepare for a showdown. In businesses, when disruptive technologies allow upstart companies like Apple, Google, or Uber to break quickly into new industries, the result is often a bitter competition that forces established companies like Hewlett-Packard, Microsoft, or taxi operators to adapt their business models—or perish.
Thucydides’s Trap refers to the natural, inevitable discombobulation that occurs when a rising power threatens to displace a ruling power. This can happen in any sphere. But its implications are most dangerous in international affairs. For just as the original instance of Thucydides’s Trap resulted in a war that brought ancient Greece to its knees, this phenomenon has haunted diplomacy in the millennia since. Today it has set the world’s two biggest powers on a path to a cataclysm nobody wants, but which they may prove unable to avoid.
Destined for War: Can America and China Escape Thucydides’s Trap?
by Graham Allison
Preface
Two centuries ago, Napoleon warned, Let China sleep; when she wakes, she will shake the world. Today China has awakened, and the world is beginning to shake.
Yet many Americans are still in denial about what China’s transformation from agrarian backwater to the biggest player in the history of the world means for the United States. What is this book’s Big Idea? In a phrase, Thucydides’s Trap. When a rising power threatens to displace a ruling power, alarm bells should sound: danger ahead. China and the United States are currently on a collision course for war—unless both parties take difficult and painful actions to avert it.
As a rapidly ascending China challenges America’s accustomed predominance, these two nations risk falling into a deadly trap first identified by the ancient Greek historian Thucydides. Writing about a war that devastated the two leading city-states of classical Greece two and a half millennia ago, he explained: “It was the rise of Athens and the fear that this instilled in Sparta that made war inevitable.”
That primal insight describes a perilous historical pattern. Reviewing the record of the past five hundred years, the Thucydides’s Trap Project I direct at Harvard has found sixteen cases in which a major nation’s rise has disrupted the position of a dominant state. In the most infamous example, an industrial Germany rattled Britain’s established position at the top of the pecking order a century ago. The catastrophic outcome of their competition necessitated a new category of violent conflict: world war. Our research finds that twelve of these rivalries ended in war and four did not—not a comforting ratio for the twenty-first century’s most important geopolitical contest.
This is not a book about China. It is about the impact of a rising China on the US and the global order. For seven decades since World War II, a rules-based framework led by Washington has defined world order, producing an era without war among great powers. Most people now think of this as normal. Historians call it a rare Long Peace. Today, an increasingly powerful China is unraveling this order, throwing into question the peace generations have taken for granted.
In 2015, the Atlantic published The Thucydides Trap: Are the US and China headed for War? In that essay I argued that this historical metaphor provides the best lens available for illuminating relations between China and the US today. Since then, the concept has ignited considerable debate. Rather than face the evidence and reflect on the uncomfortable but necessary adjustments both sides might make, policy wonks and presidents alike have constructed a straw man around Thucydides’s claim about inevitability. They have then put a torch to it—arguing that war between Washington and Beijing is not predetermined. At their 2015 summit, Presidents Barack Obama and Xi Jinping discussed the Trap at length. Obama emphasized that despite the structural stress created by China’s rise, the two countries are capable of managing their disagreements. At the same time, they acknowledged that, in Xi’s words, should major countries time and again make the mistakes of strategic miscalculation, they might create such traps for themselves.
I concur: war between the US and China is not inevitable. Indeed, Thucydides would agree that neither was war between Athens and Sparta. Read in context, it is clear that he meant his claim about inevitability as hyperbole: exaggeration for the purpose of emphasis. The point of Thucydides’s Trap is neither fatalism nor pessimism. Instead, it points us beyond the headlines and regime rhetoric to recognize the tectonic structural stress that Beijing and Washington must master to construct a peaceful relationship.
If Hollywood were making a movie pitting China against the United States on the path to war, central casting could not find two better leading actors than Xi Jinping and Donald Trump. Each personifies his country’s deep aspirations of national greatness. Much as Xi’s appointment as leader of China in 2012 accentuated the role of the rising power, America’s election of Donald Trump in a campaign that vilified China promises a more vigorous response from the ruling power. As personalities, Trump and Xi could not be more different. As protagonists in a struggle to be number one, however, they share portentous similarities. Both
Are driven by a common ambition: to make their nation great again.
Identify the nation ruled by the other as the principal obstacle to their dream.
Take pride in their own unique leadership capabilities.
See themselves playing a central role in revitalizing their nation.
Have announced daunting domestic agendas that call for radical changes.
Have fired up populist nationalist support to drain the swamp of corruption at home and confront attempts by each other to thwart their nation’s historic mission.
Will the impending clash between these two great nations lead to war? Will Presidents Trump and Xi, or their successors, follow in the tragic footsteps of the leaders of Athens and Sparta or Britain and Germany? Or will they find a way to avoid war as effectively as Britain and the US did a century ago or the US and the Soviet Union did through four decades of Cold War? Obviously, no one knows. We can be certain, however, that the dynamic Thucydides identified will intensify in the years ahead.
Denying Thucydides’s Trap does not make it less real. Recognizing it does not mean just accepting whatever happens. We owe it to future generations to face one of history’s most brutal tendencies head on and then do everything we can to defy the odds.
Introduction
I have written my work, not as an essay to win the applause of the moment, but as a possession for all time.
—Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War
Here we are on top of the world. We have arrived at this peak to stay there forever. There is, of course, this thing called history. But history is something unpleasant that happens to other people.
—Arnold Toynbee, recalling the 1897 diamond jubilee celebration of Queen Victoria
Like other practicing historians, I am often asked what the lessons of history are. I answer that the only lesson I have learnt from studying the past is that there are no permanent winners and losers.
—Ramachandra Guha
Ah, if we only knew. That was the best the German chancellor could offer. Even when a colleague pressed Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg, he could not explain how his choices, and those of other European statesmen, had led to the most devastating war the world had seen to that point. By the time the slaughter of the Great War finally ended in 1918, the key players had lost all they fought for: the Austro-Hungarian Empire dissolved, the German kaiser ousted, the Russian tsar overthrown, France bled for a generation, and England shorn of its treasure and youth. And for what? If we only knew.
Bethmann Hollweg’s phrase haunted the president of the United States nearly half a century later. In 1962, John F. Kennedy was forty-five years old and in his second year in office, but still struggling to get his mind around his responsibilities as commander in chief. He knew that his finger was on the button of a nuclear arsenal that could kill hundreds of millions of human beings in a matter of minutes. But for what? A slogan at the time declared, Better dead than red. Kennedy rejected that dichotomy as not just facile, but false. Our goal, as he put it, had to be not peace at the expense of freedom, but both peace and freedom. The question was how he and his administration could achieve both.
As he vacationed at the family compound on Cape Cod in the summer of 1962, Kennedy found himself reading The Guns of August, Barbara Tuchman’s compelling account of the outbreak of war in 1914. Tuchman traced the thoughts and actions of Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm and his chancellor Bethmann Hollweg, Britain’s King George and his foreign secretary Edward Grey, Tsar Nicholas, Austro-Hungarian emperor Franz Joseph, and others as they sleepwalked into the abyss. Tuchman argued that none of these men understood the danger they faced. None wanted the war they got. Given the opportunity for a do-over, none would repeat the choices he made. Reflecting on his own responsibilities, Kennedy pledged that if he ever found himself facing choices that could make the difference between catastrophic war and peace, he would be able to give history a better answer than Bethmann Hollweg’s.
Kennedy had no inkling of what lay ahead. In October 1962, just two months after he read Tuchman’s book, he faced off against Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev in the most dangerous confrontation in human history. The Cuban Missile Crisis began when the United States discovered the Soviets attempting to sneak nuclear-tipped missiles into Cuba, a mere ninety miles from Florida. The situation quickly escalated from diplomatic threats to an American blockade of the island, military mobilizations in both the US and USSR, and several high-stakes clashes, including the shooting down of an American U-2 spy plane over Cuba. At the height of the crisis, which lasted for a tense thirteen days, Kennedy confided to his brother Robert that he believed the chances it would end in nuclear war were between one-in-three and even. Nothing historians have discovered since has lengthened those odds.
Although he appreciated the dangers of his predicament, Kennedy repeatedly made choices he knew actually increased the risk of war, including nuclear war. He chose to confront Khrushchev publicly (rather than try to resolve the issue privately through diplomatic channels); to draw an unambiguous red line requiring the removal of Soviet missiles (rather than leave himself more wiggle room); to threaten air strikes to destroy the missiles (knowing this could trigger Soviet retaliation against Berlin); and finally, on the penultimate day of the crisis, to give Khrushchev a time-limited ultimatum (that, if rejected, would have required the US to fire the first shot).
In each of these choices, Kennedy understood that he was raising the risk that further events and choices by others beyond his control could lead to nuclear bombs destroying American cities, including Washington, DC (where his family stayed throughout the ordeal). For example, when Kennedy elevated the alert level of the American nuclear arsenal to Defcon II, he made US weapons less vulnerable to a preemptive Soviet attack but simultaneously relaxed a score of safety catches. At Defcon II, German and Turkish pilots took their seats in NATO fighter bombers loaded with armed nuclear weapons less than two hours away from their targets in the Soviet Union. Since electronic locks on nuclear weapons had not yet been invented, there was no physical or technical barrier preventing a pilot from deciding to fly to Moscow, drop a nuclear bomb, and start World War III.
With no way to wish away these risks of the uncontrollable, Kennedy and his secretary of defense, Robert McNamara, reached deeply into organizational procedures to minimize accidents or mistakes. Despite those efforts, historians have identified more than a dozen close calls outside Kennedy’s span of control that could have sparked a war. A US antisubmarine campaign, for example, dropped explosives around Soviet submarines to force them to surface, leading a Soviet captain to believe he was under attack and almost fire his nuclear-armed torpedoes. In another incident, the pilot of a U-2 spy craft mistakenly flew over the Soviet Union, causing Khrushchev to fear that Washington was refining coordinates for a preemptive nuclear attack. If one of these actions had sparked a nuclear World War III, could JFK explain how his choices contributed to it? Could he give a better answer to an inquisitor’s question than Bethmann Hollweg did?
The complexity of causation in human affairs has vexed philosophers, jurists, and social scientists. In analyzing how wars break out, historians focus primarily on proximate, or immediate, causes. In the case of World War I, these include the assassination of the Hapsburg archduke Franz Ferdinand and the decision by Tsar Nicholas II to mobilize Russian forces against the Central Powers. If the Cuban Missile Crisis had resulted in war, the proximate causes could have been the Soviet submarine captain’s decision to fire his torpedoes rather than allow his submarine to sink, or a Turkish pilot’s errant choice to fly his nuclear payload to Moscow. Proximate causes for war are undeniably important. But the founder of history believed that the most obvious causes for bloodshed mask even more significant ones. More important than the sparks that lead to war, Thucydides teaches us, are the structural factors that lay its foundations: conditions in which otherwise manageable events can escalate with unforeseeable severity and produce unimaginable consequences.
THUCYDIDES’S TRAP
In the most frequently cited one-liner in the study of international relations, the ancient Greek historian Thucydides explained, It was the rise of Athens and the fear that this instilled in Sparta that made war inevitable.
Thucydides wrote about the Peloponnesian War, a conflict that engulfed his homeland, the city-state of Athens, in the fifth century BCE, and which in time came to consume almost the entirety of ancient Greece. A former soldier, Thucydides watched as Athens challenged the dominant Greek power of the day, the martial city-state of Sparta. He observed the outbreak of armed hostilities between the two powers and detailed the fighting’s horrific toll. He did not live to see its bitter end, when a weakened Sparta finally vanquished Athens, but it is just as well for him.
While others identified an array of contributing causes of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides went to the heart of the matter. When he turned the spotlight on the rise of Athens and the fear that this instilled in Sparta, he identified a primary driver at the root of some of history’s most catastrophic and puzzling wars. Intentions aside, when a rising power threatens to displace a ruling power, the resulting structural stress makes a violent clash the rule, not the exception. It happened between Athens and Sparta in the fifth century BCE, between Germany and Britain a century ago, and almost led to war between the Soviet Union and the United States in the 1950s and 1960s.
Like so many others, Athens believed its advance to be benign. Over the half century that preceded the conflict, it had emerged as a steeple of civilization. Philosophy, drama, architecture, democracy, history, and naval prowess—Athens had it all, beyond anything previously seen under the sun. Its rapid development began to threaten Sparta, which had grown accustomed to its position as the dominant power on the Peloponnese. As Athenian confidence and pride grew, so too did its demands for respect and expectations that arrangements be revised to reflect new realities of power. These were, Thucydides tells us, natural reactions to its changing station. How could Athenians not believe that their interests deserved more weight? How could Athenians not expect that they should have greater influence in resolving differences?
But it was also natural, Thucydides explained, that Spartans should see the Athenian claims as unreasonable, and even ungrateful. Who, Spartans rightly asked, provided the security environment that allowed Athens to flourish? As Athens swelled with a growing sense of its own importance, and felt entitled to greater say and sway, Sparta reacted with insecurity, fear, and a determination to defend the status quo.
Similar dynamics can be found in a host of other settings, indeed even in families. When a young man’s adolescent surge poses the prospect that he will overshadow his older sibling (or even his father), what do we expect? Should the allocation of bedrooms, or closet space, or seating be adjusted to reflect relative size as well as age? In alpha-dominated species like gorillas, as a potential successor grows larger and stronger, both the pack leader and the wannabe prepare for a showdown. In businesses, when disruptive technologies allow upstart companies like Apple, Google, or Uber to break quickly into new industries, the result is often a bitter competition that forces established companies like Hewlett-Packard, Microsoft, or taxi operators to adapt their business models—or perish.
Thucydides’s Trap refers to the natural, inevitable discombobulation that occurs when a rising power threatens to displace a ruling power. This can happen in any sphere. But its implications are most dangerous in international affairs. For just as the original instance of Thucydides’s Trap resulted in a war that brought ancient Greece to its knees, this phenomenon has haunted diplomacy in the millennia since. Today it has set the world’s two biggest powers on a path to a cataclysm nobody wants, but which they may prove unable to avoid.
ARE THE US AND CHINA DESTINED FOR WAR?
The world has never seen anything like the rapid, tectonic shift in the global balance of power created by the rise of China. If the US were a corporation, it would have accounted for 50 percent of the global economic market in the years immediately after World War II. By 1980, that had declined to 22 percent. Three decades of double-digit Chinese growth has reduced that US share to 16 percent today. If current trends continue, the US share of global economic output will decline further over the next three decades to just 11 percent. Over this same period, China’s share of the global economy will have soared from 2 percent in 1980 to 18 percent in 2016, well on its way to 30 percent in 2040.
China’s economic development is transforming it into a formidable political and military competitor. During the Cold War, as the US mounted clumsy responses to Soviet provocations, a sign in the Pentagon said: If we ever faced a real enemy, we would be in deep trouble. China is a serious potential enemy.
The possibility that the United States and China could find themselves at war appears as unlikely as it would be unwise. The centennials recalling World War I, however, have reminded us of man’s capacity for folly. When we say that war is inconceivable, is this a statement about what is possible in the world—or only about what our limited minds can conceive?
As far ahead as the eye can see, the defining question about global order is whether China and the US can escape Thucydides’s Trap. Most contests that fit this pattern have ended badly. Over the past five hundred years, in sixteen cases a major rising power has threatened to displace a ruling power. In twelve of those, the result was war. The four cases that avoided this outcome did so only because of huge, painful adjustments in attitudes and actions on the part of challenger and challenged alike.
The United States and China can likewise avoid war, but only if they can internalize two difficult truths. First, on the current trajectory, war between the US and China in the decades ahead is not just possible, but much more likely than currently recognized. Indeed, on the historical record, war is more likely than not. By underestimating the danger, moreover, we add to the risk. If leaders in Beijing and Washington keep doing what they have done for the past decade, the US and China will almost certainly wind up at war. Second, war is not inevitable. History shows that major ruling powers can manage relations with rivals, even those that threaten to overtake them, without triggering a war. The record of those successes, as well as the failures, offers many lessons for statesmen today. As George Santayana noted, only those who fail to study history are condemned to repeat it.
The chapters that follow describe the origins of Thucydides’s Trap, explore its dynamics, and explain its implications for the present contest between the US and China. Part One provides a succinct summary of the rise of China. Everyone knows about China’s growth but few have realized its magnitude or its consequences. To paraphrase former Czech president Václav Havel, it has happened so quickly that we have not yet had time to be astonished.
Part Two locates recent developments in US-China relations on the broader canvas of history. This not only helps us understand current events, but also provides clues about where events are trending. Our review stretches back 2,500 years, to the time when the rapid growth of Athens shocked a dominant martial Sparta and led to the Peloponnesian War. Key examples from the past 500 years also provide insights into the ways in which the tension between rising and ruling powers can tilt the chessboard toward war. The closest analogue to the current standoff—Germany’s challenge to Britain’s ruling global empire before World War I—should give us all pause.
Part Three asks whether we should see current trends in America’s relations with China as a gathering storm of similar proportions. Daily media reports of China’s aggressive behavior and unwillingness to accept the international rules-based order established by the US after World War II describe incidents and accidents reminiscent of 1914. At the same time, a dose of self-awareness is due. If China were just like us when the US burst into the twentieth century brimming with confidence that the hundred years ahead would be an American era, the rivalry would be even more severe, and war even harder to avoid. If it actually followed in America’s footsteps, we should expect to see Chinese troops enforcing Beijing’s will from Mongolia to Australia, just as Theodore Roosevelt molded our hemisphere to his liking.
China is following a different trajectory than did the United States during its own surge to primacy. But in many aspects of China’s rise, we can hear echoes. What does President Xi Jinping’s China want? In one line: to make China great again. The deepest aspiration of over a billion Chinese citizens is to make their nation not only rich, but also powerful. Indeed, their goal is a China so rich and so powerful that other nations will have no choice but to recognize its interests and give it the respect that it deserves. The sheer scale and ambition of this China Dream should disabuse us of any notion that the contest between China and the United States will naturally subside as China becomes a responsible stakeholder. This is especially so given what my former colleague Sam Huntington famously called a clash of civilizations, a historical disjunction in which fundamentally different Chinese and American values and traditions make rapprochement between the two powers even more elusive.
While resolution of the present rivalry may seem difficult to foresee, actual armed conflict appears distant. But is it? In truth, the paths to war are more varied and plausible (and even mundane) than we want to believe. From current confrontations in the South China Sea, the East China Sea, and cyberspace, to a trade conflict that spirals out of control, it is frighteningly easy to develop scenarios in which American and Chinese soldiers are killing each other. Though none of these scenarios seem likely, when we recall the unintended consequences of the assassination of the Hapsburg archduke or of Khrushchev’s nuclear adventure in Cuba, we are reminded of just how narrow the gap is between unlikely and impossible.
Part Four explains why war is not inevitable. Most of the policy community and general public are naively complacent about the possibility of war. Fatalists, meanwhile, see an irresistible force rapidly approaching an immovable object. Neither side has it right. If leaders in both societies will study the successes and failures of the past, they will find a rich source of clues from which to fashion a strategy that can meet each nation’s essential interests without war.
The return to prominence of a 5,000-year-old civilization with 1.4 billion people is not a problem to be fixed. It is a condition—a chronic condition that will have to be managed over a generation. Success will require not just a new slogan, more frequent presidential summits, or additional meetings of departmental working groups. Managing this relationship without war will demand sustained attention, week by week, at the highest levels in both governments. It will require a depth of mutual understanding not seen since the Henry Kissinger–Zhou Enlai conversations that reestablished US-China relations in the 1970s. Most significant, it will mean more radical changes in attitudes and actions by leaders and the public alike than anyone has yet undertaken. To escape Thucydides’s Trap, we must be willing to think the unthinkable—and imagine the unimaginable. Avoiding Thucydides’s Trap in this case will require nothing less than bending the arc of history.
Part One
The Rise of China
1
The Biggest Player in the History of the World
You have no idea what sort of people the Athenians are. They are always thinking of new schemes and are quick to carry them out. They make a plan: if it succeeds, the success is nothing in comparison to what they are going to do next.
—Thucydides, Corinthian ambassador addresses the Spartan Assembly, 432 BCE
Let China sleep; when she wakes, she will shake the world.
—Napoleon, 1817
Shortly after he became director of the Central Intelligence Agency in September 2011, I went to see America’s most successful modern general in his office in Langley, Virginia. David Petraeus and I had first met in the 1980s when he was a doctoral student at Princeton and I was dean of Harvard Kennedy School. We had stayed in touch ever since, as he rose through the ranks of the US Army and I continued my academic work while also serving several tours in the Pentagon. After some preliminary discussion about his new job, I asked David whether the old hands at the Agency had begun opening for him some of the secret jewel boxes—the files containing the deepest, most heavily classified secrets of the US government. He smiled knowingly and said, You bet, but then waited for me to say more.
After a pause, I asked what he had learned about deep sleepers: individuals with whom the Agency had established a relationship, but whose assignment essentially consisted of going to live and prosper in a foreign country so as to develop a full understanding of its culture, people, and government. With a commitment to be helpful to their careers in unseen ways, the Agency only asked of these individuals that, when called upon—unobtrusively, perhaps just once or twice in a decade—they would provide their candid insights into what was happening in the country, and what was likely to happen in the future.
David was by this point leaning forward across the table as I opened a report from someone whose incisive, far-sighted understanding could inform Washington’s response to the greatest geopolitical challenge of our lifetime. As I said to the new director, this individual had succeeded beyond all expectations. He had seen up close China’s convulsions from the Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution in the 1960s to Deng Xiaoping’s capitalist pivot in the 1980s. Indeed, he had established serious working relationships with many of the people who governed China, including China’s future president, Xi Jinping.
I began reading the first set of questions from fifty pages of Q&A with this asset:
Are China’s current leaders serious about displacing the United States as the number-one power in Asia in the foreseeable future?
What is China’s strategy for becoming Number One?
What are the major hurdles to China’s executing its strategy?
How likely is China to succeed?
If it does succeed, what will be the consequences for its neighbors in Asia? For the US?
Is conflict between China and the US inevitable?
This individual had provided invaluable answers to these questions and many more. He had pulled the curtain back on the thinking of the Chinese leadership. He had soberly assessed the risk that these two countries might someday violently collide. And he had given actionable intelligence that could help prevent the unthinkable from happening.
Lee Kuan Yew was, of course, no CIA spy. His mind, heart, and soul belonged to Singapore. But the longtime statesman, who died in 2015, was a font of wisdom hiding in plain sight. The report I gave to David was a sneak preview of Lee Kuan Yew: The Grand Master’s Insights on China, the United States, and the World, a book that I coauthored in 2013 with Robert Blackwill and Ali Wyne. As the founder and long-serving leader of that tiny city-state, Lee took a small, poor, inconsequential fishing village and raised it to become a modern megalopolis. Ethnically Chinese, he was educated at Cambridge University and embodied a fusion of Confucian and upper-class English values. And until his death in 2015, he was also unquestionably the world’s premier China watcher.
Lee’s insights into what was happening in China, as well as the wider world, made him a sought-after strategic counselor to presidents and prime ministers on every continent—including every American head of state from Richard Nixon to Barack Obama. His keen understanding of China reflected not only his singular strategic acumen, as Henry Kissinger called it, but also his intense need to know as much as he could about this sleeping giant. Though its economic and political might was not so obvious amid Mao’s agrarian Marxism, China was nevertheless a colossus in whose shadow Lee’s island nation struggled for enough sunlight to survive. Lee was one of the first to see China’s true nature—and its full potential.
Uniquely, as Lee studied China and its leaders, they also studied him and his country. In the late 1970s, when Deng began to think about leading China on a fast march to the market, Chinese leaders looked to Singapore as a laboratory in not only economic but also political development. Lee spent thousands of hours in direct conversations with Chinese presidents, prime ministers, cabinet officers, and rising leaders of his neighbor to the North. Every Chinese leader from Deng Xiaoping to Xi Jinping has called him mentor, a term of ultimate respect in Chinese culture.
My biggest takeaway from Lee for the new CIA director addresses the most troubling question about China’s trajectory: What does its dramatic transformation mean for the global balance of power? Lee answered pointedly: “The size of China’s displacement of the world balance is such that the world must find a new balance. It is not possible to pretend that this is just another big player. This is the biggest player in the history of the world.”
COULD THE US BECOME NUMBER TWO?
In my national security course at Harvard, my lecture on China begins with a quiz. The first question asks students to compare China and the United States in 1980 with their current rankings. Repeatedly, students are shocked at what they see. One glance at the chart with numbers from 2015 should explain why.
China, as a percentage of the United States
Figures as measured in US dollars. Source: World Bank.
In a single generation, a nation that did not appear on any of the international league tables has vaulted into the top spot. In 1980, China’s gross domestic product (GDP) was less than $300 billion; by 2015, it was $11 trillion—making it the world’s second-largest economy by market exchange rates. In 1980, China’s trade with the outside world amounted to less than $40 billion; by 2015, it had increased one hundredfold, to $4 trillion. For every two-year period since 2008, the increment of growth in China’s GDP has been larger than the entire economy of India. Even at its lower growth rate in 2015, China’s economy created a Greece every sixteen weeks and an Israel every twenty-five weeks.
During its own remarkable progress between 1860 and 1913, when the United States shocked European capitals by surpassing Great Britain to become the world’s largest economy, America’s annual growth averaged 4 percent. Since 1980, China’s economy has grown at 10 percent a year. According to the Rule of 72—divide 72 by the annual growth rate to determine when an economy or investment will double—the Chinese economy has doubled every seven years.
To appreciate how remarkable this is, we need a longer timeline. In the eighteenth century, Britain gave birth to the Industrial Revolution, creating what we now know as the modern world. In 1776, Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations to explain how after millennia of poverty, market capitalism was creating wealth and a new middle class. Seventeen years later, an emissary from King George III (the same mad King George who lost the Revolutionary War to the US) arrived in China to propose establishing relations between the two nations. At that moment, British workers were massively more productive than their Chinese counterparts. The Chinese were many, as they had been over the centuries. But they were poor. At the end of each day of labor, a Chinese worker had produced barely enough to feed himself and his family—leaving relatively little surplus for the state to pay soldiers or invest in armaments like a navy (which over four millennia Chinese emperors never did, bar one brief half-century exception) to project power far beyond its borders. Today workers in China are one quarter as productive as their American counterparts. If over the next decade or two they become just half as productive as Americans, China’s economy will be twice the size of the US economy. If they equal American productivity, China will have an economy four times that of the US.
This elementary arithmetic poses a fundamental problem for Washington’s effort to rebalance China’s growing weight. In 2011, with considerable fanfare, then secretary of state Hillary Clinton announced an important pivot in American foreign policy, redirecting Washington’s attention and resources from the Middle East to Asia. In President Obama’s words, After a decade in which we fought two wars that cost us dearly, in blood and treasure, the US is turning our attention to the vast potential of the Asia-Pacific region. He promised to increase America’s diplomatic, economic, and military presence in the Asia-Pacific, and signaled the US determination to counter the impact of China’s rise in the region. President Obama has featured this rebalance as one of the major foreign policy achievements of his administration.
As assistant secretary of state under Obama and Secretary Clinton, Kurt Campbell led this initiative. His 2016 book, The Pivot: The Future of American Statecraft in Asia, makes the best possible case for the great rebalance as more than aspiration. Despite his best efforts, however, he is unable to find many metrics to support his thesis. Measured in attention span of the president, time spent at National Security Council principals’ and deputies’ meetings, face time with leaders of the region, sorties flown, hours of ships on station, and dollars allocated, the pivot is hard to find. Ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan combined with new wars in Syria and against ISIS across the Middle East to monopolize the administration’s foreign policy agenda and dominate the president’s days over his eight years in office. As one Obama White House official recalled: It never felt like we pivoted away from the Middle East. About 80 percent of our main meetings at the National Security Council have focused on the Middle East.
Even if American attention had not been focused elsewhere, Washington would have struggled to defy the laws of economic gravity. Compare the relative weight of the US and Chinese economies as if they were two competitors on opposite ends of a seesaw. The conclusion is as obvious as it is painful. Americans have been debating whether they should put less weight on their left foot (the Middle East) in order to put more weight on their right (Asia). Meanwhile, China has just kept growing—at three times the US rate. As a result, America’s side of the seesaw has tilted to the point that soon both feet will be dangling entirely off the ground.
This is the subtext of the first question on my class quiz. The second question pricks more delusions. It asks students: When might the US actually find itself number two? In what year might China overtake the United States to become the number-one auto market,
Russia or China? The U.S. Has a Choice to Make.
by Zachary Karabell
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/30/opinion/china-us-russia-strategy.html
In a speech on Thursday, Secretary of State Antony Blinken revealed the long-awaited outlines of the Biden administration’s official posture toward China. Rather than Vladimir Putin’s Russia, Mr. Blinken said, it is China that represents the most potent and determined threat to the American-championed world order.
Only China, he continued, has “both the intent to reshape the international order” and the power to do so, he said. The United States will seek to rally coalitions of other nations to meet Beijing’s challenge.
The writing had been on the wall. Just days earlier, President Biden pledged to defend Taiwan if China moved to seize the democratically ruled island; he met with regional allies; and his administration proposed a new plan to counter China’s growing economic clout in Asia.
But the intensifying fixation on China’s potential to disrupt the world order shrinks space for cooperation with Beijing and distracts from the real threat in the world: Russia.
Under Mr. Putin, Russia demolished the Chechen capital of Grozny in 2000, invaded Georgia in 2008, annexed Crimea in 2014 and used its air force in 2015 and 2016 against opponents of Syria’s Bashar al-Assad. His regime has used cyberattacks, brutalized or assassinated domestic opponents and passed laws that impose draconian prison sentences on anyone questioning the state. He launched a brutal invasion of Ukraine and has hinted at possibly using nuclear weapons. Mr. Putin has not just declared his intent to redraw international borders and resurrect the ghost of the former Soviet Union, he has acted on it.
Thwarting further Russian misbehavior through trade embargoes, preventing resupply of the country’s military and establishing an international phalanx against Mr. Putin requires global cooperation. That includes China.
We need to be cleareyed about China, of course. It is without doubt a more powerful potential adversary than Russia on every metric — military, economic and ideological. The Communist Party, under the firm control of Xi Jinping, pursues a form of state-sponsored capitalism that disadvantages foreign companies in the China market and builds up powerful national champions. The primacy of the party trumps rule of law, and free-speech and political rights are harshly suppressed. China’s appalling treatment of its Uyghur minority and suppression of basic rights in Hong Kong have been rightly condemned.
China also spends more on its military than any country besides the United States, which is intended to counter American military pre-eminence in East Asia. Rising nationalism is expressed in the belief that Taiwan must be reunified with mainland China and that the South China Sea is a Chinese lake.
But these issues don’t necessarily make China a threat to American prosperity and security, not unless you believe in every antagonistic word coming from Chinese officials, every war plan devised by its military, and the inevitability of “the Thucydides trap” — the notion that emerging powers will tend toward conflict with established ones. Neither does it follow that any country which does not adhere to liberal democratic norms is a budding threat to the United States. The United States has never based its entire foreign policy on human rights, nor should it; that would be a recipe for endless intervention and conflict globally. And grounding policy on what might happen is an equally slippery slope.
The Communist Party views the United States as an adversary. But it has been willing to engage diplomatically, has repeatedly championed the inviolability of state borders and is not averse to self-interested compromise over issues like trade and climate change. It’s rhetoric over Taiwan has been little more than saber-rattling and appears restrained compared to how the United States has historically treated Latin America.
Advocates of a new Cold War with China will surely roll their eyes at these assertions. They will say that China has wiggled out of trade commitments, repeatedly violated agreements on climate, used espionage to steal intellectual property, and is building a military designed to inflict harm on the United States and its allies.
But it is logical for an emerging great power like China to make plans for its defense, including potential conflict with the United States. It’s also worth remembering that China is deeply intertwined with the U.S. and global economy. It holds more than a trillion dollars’ worth of American debt in the form of U.S. Treasury securities, benefits from the cumulative effect of U.S. investment in China and needs access to foreign markets. All of these realities shape its behavior just as much as the possibility of a future confrontation with the United States. Russia, by contrast, is constrained only by how far Mr. Putin is willing to go.
Rather than cast China as our next great enemy, American security would be better served by the realization that Russia’s behavior only highlights the ways that China and the United States remain bound to each other despite their tensions. We should nurture rather than endanger these ties, which are crucial for both countries to remain prosperous, stable and secure. We should also not allow our dislike of China’s domestic system to be the basis of how we engage a country whose centrality to the global system is second only to ours.
It’s rarely wise to take on two adversaries at once. Mr. Biden should find new ways to work with China, rather than trying to coerce it to be different. He should take bold steps to tone down the rhetoric, such as lifting Trump-era tariffs on Chinese goods in return for Beijing’s reduced support for Putin. Otherwise, he will miss an opportunity to be a savvy, strategic president rather than one who fights with China at every turn.
トゥキュディデスの罠
ウィキペディア
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/トゥキュディデスの罠
トゥキュディデスの罠（Thucydides Trap）とは、古代アテナイの歴史家トゥキュディデスにちなむ言葉で、従来の覇権国家と台頭する新興国家が、戦争が不可避な状態にまで衝突する現象を指す。アメリカ合衆国の政治学者グレアム・アリソンが作った造語。
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紀元前5世紀のスパルタとアテナイによる構造的な緊張関係に言及したと伝えられる（“It was the rise of Athens, and the fear that this inspired in Sparta, that made war inevitable.”「戦争を不可避なものにした原因は アテネの台頭と それが引き起こしたスパルタの恐怖心にあった」）。
古代ギリシャ当時、海上交易をおさえる経済大国としてアテナイが台頭し、陸上における軍事的覇権を事実上握るスパルタとの間で対立が生じ、長年にわたる戦争（ペロポネソス戦争）が勃発した。
転じて、急速に台頭する大国が既成の支配的な大国とライバル関係に発展する際、それぞれの立場を巡って摩擦が起こり、お互いに望まない直接的な抗争に及ぶ様子を表現した言葉である。現在では、国際社会のトップにいる国はその地位を守るため現状維持を望み、台頭する国はトップにいる国に潰されることを懸念し、既存の国際ルールを自分に都合が良いように変えようとするパワー・ゲームの中で、軍事的な争いに発展しがちな現象を指す。
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2015年、オバマ大統領がアメリカで開催した米中二国間の首脳会談において、南シナ海などで急速な軍拡を進める中国の習近平国家主席との話で用いた。「一線を越えてしまった場合はもはや後戻りをすることは困難になる」という牽制の意味合いと思われる。
ハーバード大学のベルファー・センターの研究によると、20世紀に日本が台頭した際の日露戦争、太平洋戦争などもこれにあたるとしている。その他、国際的には古くはイタリア戦争、英仏戦争、米ソ間の冷戦などを指す。
アリソンとその著書『Destined For War』（邦訳『米中戦争前夜――新旧大国を衝突させる歴史の法則と回避のシナリオ』）によると、過去500年間の覇権争い16事例のうち12は戦争に発展したが、20世紀初頭の英米関係や冷戦など4事例では、新旧大国の譲歩により戦争を回避した。