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Biological weapons have threatened U.S. national security since at least World War II. Historically, however, the U.S. military has neglected research, development, acquisition, and doctrine for biodefense. Following September 11 and the anthrax letters of 2001, the United States started spending billions of dollars per year on medical countermeasures and biological detection systems. But most of this funding now comes from the Department of Health and Human Services rather than the Department of Defense. Why has the U.S. military neglected biodefense and allowed civilian organizations to take the lead in defending the country against biological attacks? This book addresses this puzzling and largely untold story about science, technology, and national security. The book argues that organizational frames and stereotypes have caused both military neglect and the rise of civilian biodefense. In the armed services, influential ideas about kinetic warfare have undermined defense against biological warfare. The influence of these ideas on science and technology challenges the conventional wisdom that national security policy is driven by threats or bureaucratic interests. Given the ideas at work inside the U.S. military, the book explains how the lessons learned from biodefense can help solve other important problems that range from radiation weapons to cyber attacks.

Since 1898, the United States and the United Nations have deployed military force more than three dozen times in attempts to rebuild failed states. Currently there are more state-building campaigns in progress than at any time in the past century—including Afghanistan, Bosnia, Kosovo, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Haiti, Sudan, Liberia, Cote d’Ivoire, and Lebanon—and the number of candidate nations for such campaigns in the future is substantial. Even with a broad definition of success, earlier campaigns failed more than half the time. This book looks at the question of what causes armed, international state-building campaigns by liberal powers to succeed or fail. The United States successfully rebuilt the West German and Japanese states after World War II but failed to build a functioning state in South Vietnam. After the Cold War the United Nations oversaw relatively successful campaigns to restore order, hold elections, and organize post-conflict reconstruction in Mozambique, Namibia, Nicaragua, and elsewhere, but those successes were overshadowed by catastrophes in Angola, Liberia, and Somalia. The recent effort in Iraq and the ongoing one in Afghanistan are yielding mixed results, despite the high levels of resources dedicated and the long duration of the missions there. The book outlines different types of state failure, analyzes various levels of intervention that liberal states have tried in the state-building process, and distinguishes among the various failures and successes those efforts have provoked.

Nuclear technology is dual use in nature, meaning that it can be used to produce nuclear energy or to build nuclear weapons. Despite security concerns about proliferation, the United States and other nuclear nations have regularly shared with other countries nuclear technology, materials, and knowledge for peaceful purposes. This book argues that governments use peaceful nuclear assistance as a tool of economic statecraft. Nuclear suppliers hope that they can reap the benefits of foreign aid—improving relationships with their allies, limiting the influence of their adversaries, enhancing their energy security by gaining favorable access to oil supplies—without undermining their security. By providing peaceful nuclear assistance, however, countries inadvertently help spread nuclear weapons. This book draws on several cases of “Atoms for Peace,” including U.S. civilian nuclear assistance to Iran from 1957 to 1979; Soviet aid to Libya from 1975 to 1986; French, Italian, and Brazilian nuclear exports to Iraq from 1975 to 1981; and U.S. nuclear cooperation with India from 2001 to 2008. It also explores decision making in countries such as Japan, North Korea, Pakistan, South Africa, and Syria to determine why states began (or did not begin) nuclear weapons programs and why some programs succeeded while others failed. The book concludes that, on average, countries receiving higher levels of peaceful nuclear assistance are more likely to pursue and acquire the bomb—especially if they experience an international crisis after receiving aid.

How do alliances curb potential or actual cases of nuclear proliferation, if at all? Many scholars assert that alliances are effective tools for bridling the nuclear ambitions of states and that the United States can especially take credit for suppressing nuclear proliferation among its allies around the world. This book challenges this widely-held view by arguing that alliances can be most useful for preventing potential nuclear proliferation but much less useful for curbing actual nuclear proliferation. Drawing on deep archival research it shows how allied decision-makers often evaluate American security guarantees with reference to in-theater conventional military deployments. It also demonstrates the significant difficulties in mounting alliance coercion in order to extract non-proliferation commitments. The book mainly explores the three cases of supposed alliance non-proliferation success--West Germany, Japan, and South Korea—while examining in lesser detail the case of Great Britain, France, Norway, Australia, and Taiwan.

There exists the belief that with sufficient motivation and material resources, states or terrorist groups can produce bioweapons easily, cheaply, and successfully. This book challenges this perception by showing that bioweapons development is a difficult, protracted, and expensive endeavor, rarely achieving the expected results whatever the magnitude of investment. The book's findings are based on extensive interviews conducted with former U.S. and Soviet-era bioweapons scientists and on careful analysis of archival data and other historical documents related to various state and terrorist bioweapons programs. Bioweapons development relies on living organisms that are sensitive to their environment and handling conditions, and therefore behave unpredictably. These features place a greater premium on specialized knowledge. The book posits that lack of access to such intellectual capital constitutes the greatest barrier to the making of bioweapons. It integrates theories drawn from economics, the sociology of science, organization, and management with empirical research. The resulting theoretical framework rests on the idea that the pace and success of a bioweapons development program can be measured by its ability to ensure the creation and transfer of scientific and technical knowledge. The specific organizational, managerial, social, political, and economic conditions necessary for success are difficult to achieve, particularly in covert programs where the need to prevent detection imposes managerial and organizational conditions that conflict with knowledge production.

Why do some military and rebel groups commit many types of violence, creating an impression of senseless chaos, whereas others carefully control violence against civilians? A classic catch-22 faces the leaders of armed groups. Leaders need large groups of people willing to kill and maim—but to do so only under strict control. How can commanders control violence when fighters who are not under direct supervision experience extraordinary stress, fear, and anger? This book argues that discipline is not enough in wartime. Restraint occurs when fighters know why they are fighting and believe in the cause—that is, when commanders invest in political education. Drawing on evidence about state and non-state groups in El Salvador, and extending the argument to the Mano River wars in Liberia and Sierra Leone, the book shows that investments in political education can improve human rights outcomes even where rational incentives for restraint are weak—and that groups whose fighters lack a sense of purpose may engage in massive violence even where incentives for restraint are strong. It concludes that high levels of violence against civilians should be considered a “default setting,” not an aberration.

Over the past two decades, many states have been called on to recognize and apologize for historic wrongs. In response, some states have apologized for past crimes, while others continue to silence, deny, and relativize dark pasts. What explains this tremendous variation? When and why do states change the stories they tell about dark pasts? Based on a comparative analysis of the trajectories of Turkey’s narrative of the 1915-17 Armenian Genocide and Japan’s narrative of the 1937-8 Nanjing Massacre, Dark Pasts argues that international pressures increase the likelihood of change in official narratives of dark pasts, but domestic considerations determine the content of such change. Rather than simply changing with the passage of time, persistence, or rightness, official narratives of dark pasts are shaped by interactions between domestic and international politics. Combining historical richness and analytical rigor, Dark Pasts unravels the complex processes through which such narratives are constructed and contested, and offers an innovative way to analyze the content of and changes in historical memories. The book sheds light on the persistent presence of the past and reveals how domestic politics functions as a filter that shapes the ways in which states’ narratives change – or don’t – over time.

This book examines how U.S. presidents have deceived the American public about fundamental decisions of war and peace. Deception has been deliberate, it suggests, as presidents have sought to shift blame for war onto others in some cases and oversell its benefits in others. The book views that such deceit is a natural outgrowth of the democratic process because elected leaders have powerful incentives to maximize domestic support for war and retain considerable ability to manipulate domestic audiences. They can exploit information and propaganda advantages to frame issues in misleading ways, cherry-pick supporting evidence, suppress damaging revelations, and otherwise skew the public debate to their benefit. These tactics are particularly effective before the outbreak of war, when the information gap between leaders and the public is greatest. When resorting to deception, leaders take a calculated risk that the outcome of war will be favorable, expecting the public to adopt a forgiving attitude after victory is secured. The three cases featured in the book—Franklin Roosevelt and World War II, Lyndon Johnson and the Vietnam War, and George W. Bush and the Iraq War—test these claims. The book concludes that democracies are not as constrained in their ability to go to war as we might believe and that deception cannot be ruled out in all cases as contrary to the national interest.

Civilian displacement is a regular, massive feature of civil war violence. This book provides a new way to think about displacement, by connecting it to how armed groups target violence against civilians, and how civilians respond. Individuals escape selective violence, civilians relocate together to avoid indiscriminate violence, and groups experience political cleansing following collective violence. Political cleansing is the expulsion of civilians from their communities based on a shared identity or trait. While it is difficult to detect civilians’ loyalties, the book shows that elections can both facilitate and incentivize displacement by revealing civilians’ political preferences; and giving elites a stake in the electoral composition of a community, motivating them to ally with armed groups. The book traces how democratic reforms triggered both processes in Colombia, leading to a major intensification of the war and to one of the highest populations of internally displaced people in the world. Combining evidence collected from remote archives, interviews with ex-combatants and displaced people, and quantitative data from the government’s displacement registry during nearly two years of fieldwork, the book connects Colombia’s political development and the course of its civil war to displacement.

What is the value of diplomacy? How does it affect the course of foreign affairs independent of the distribution of power and foreign policy interests? Theories of international relations too often implicitly reduce the dynamics and outcomes of diplomacy to structural factors rather than the subtle qualities of negotiation. If diplomacy is an independent effect on the conduct of world politics, it has to add value, and we have to be able to show what that value is. This book sets forth a comprehensive theory of diplomacy, based on understanding that political leaders have distinct diplomatic styles—coercive bargaining, reasoned dialogue, and pragmatic statecraft. Drawing on work in the psychology of negotiation, the book explains how diplomatic styles are a function of the psychological attributes of leaders and the party coalitions they represent. The combination of these styles creates a certain spirit of negotiation that facilitates or obstructs agreement. The book applies the argument to relations among France, Germany, and Great Britain during the 1920s as well as Palestinian–Israeli negotiations since the 1990s. The book shows how different diplomatic styles can successfully resolve apparently intractable dilemmas and equally, how they can thwart agreements that were seemingly within reach.

Policy makers and pundits debate the utility and desirability of various forms of grand strategy. They advocate one specific approach, chosen from a spectrum that stretches from global primacy to restraint and isolationism. These strategies generally share three features: first, a nostalgia for the Cold War, when America’s grand strategy was clear and consistent. Second, a common belief that the United States can shape the global system according to its values and need if only the country has the right leadership and strategy. Third, a propensity to prescribe instead of explaining American strategy. In The End of Grand Strategy: Maritime Operations in the 21^st Century, Simon Reich and Peter Dombrowski challenge this common view. They eschew prescription in favor of describing and explaining what America’s military actually does. They argue that each presidental administration inevitably resorts to each of the six variant of grand strategy that they implement simultaneously as a result of a series of fundamental recent changes – what they term ‘calibrated strategies.’ Reich and Dombrowski support their controversial argument by examining six major maritime operations, stretching from America’s shores to every region of the globe. Each of these operations reflects one major variant of strategy. They conclude that grand strategy, as we know it, is dead.

What is the role of intelligence agencies in strategy and policy? How do policymakers use (or misuse) intelligence estimates? When do intelligence–policy relations work best? How do intelligence-policy failures influence threat assessment, military strategy, and foreign policy? These questions are at the heart of recent national security controversies, including the 9/11 attacks and the war in Iraq. In both cases the relationship between intelligence and policy broke down—with disastrous consequences. This book explores the complex interaction between intelligence and policy and shines a spotlight on the problem of politicization. Major episodes in the history of American foreign policy have been closely tied to the manipulation of intelligence estimates. The book describes how the Johnson administration dealt with the intelligence community during the Vietnam War; how President Nixon and President Ford politicized estimates on the Soviet Union; and how pressure from the George W. Bush administration contributed to flawed intelligence on Iraq. It also compares the U.S. case with the British experience between 1998 and 2003, and demonstrates that high-profile government inquiries in both countries were fundamentally wrong about what happened before the war.

On both sides of the Atlantic, restrictive immigration policies have been framed as security imperatives since the 1990s. This trend accelerated in the aftermath of 9/11 and subsequent terrorist attacks in Europe. This book raises two central questions with profound consequences for national security and immigration policy: First, does the securitization of immigration issues actually contribute to the enhancement of internal security? Second, does the use of counterterrorism measures address such immigration issues as the increasing number of illegal immigrants, the resilience of ethnic tensions, and the emergence of home-grown radicalization? This book questions the main assumptions that inform political agendas in the United States and throughout Europe, analyzing implementation and evaluating the effectiveness of policies in terms of their stated objectives. It argues that the new security-based immigration regime has proven ineffective in achieving its prescribed goals and even aggravated the problems it was supposed to solve: A security/insecurity cycle has been created that results in less security and less democracy. The excesses of securitization have harmed both immigration and counterterrorist policies and seriously damaged the delicate balance between security and respect for civil liberties.

Armies fight battles, states fight wars. To focus solely on armies is to neglect the broader story of victory and defeat. Military power stems from an economic base, and without wealth, soldiers cannot be paid, weapons cannot be procured, and food cannot be bought. War finance is among the most consequential decisions any state makes: how a state finances a war affects not only its success on the battlefield but also its economic stability and its leadership tenure. This book clarifies several critical dynamics lying at the nexus of financial and military policy. The book combines a database on war funding over the past two centuries with qualitative analyses of Truman's financing of the Korean War, Johnson's financing of the Vietnam War, British financing of World War II and the Crimean War, and Russian and Japanese financing of the Russo-Japanese War. The book argues that leaders who attempt to maximize their power at home, and state power abroad, are in a constant balancing act as they try to win wars while remaining in office. As a result of political risks, they prefer war finance policies that meet the needs of the war effort within the constraints of the capacity of the state.

Since at least the Middle Ages, the laws of war have distinguished between combatants and civilians under the principle of distinction. The principle of distinction is invoked in contemporary conflicts as if there were an unmistakable and sure distinction to be made between combatant and civilian. It is precisely the distinction between civilian and combatant, upon which the protection of civilians is founded, that cannot be taken as self-evident or stable. The history of international humanitarian law itself admits the difficulty of such a distinction. The book explores the evolution of the concept of the civilian and how it has been applied in warfare. A series of discourses have shaped the legal, military, and historical understandings of the civilian and the book documents how these discourses converge at particular junctures to demarcate the difference between civilian and combatant. The book identifies the foundational ambiguities and inconsistencies in the principle of distinction, as well as the significant role played by Christian concepts of mercy and charity. It then turns to the definition and treatment of civilians in specific armed conflicts: the American Civil War and the U.S.–Indian wars of the nineteenth century, and the civil wars of Guatemala and El Salvador in the 1980s. Finally, the book analyzes the two modern treaties most influential for the principle of distinction. The book shows how the experiences of the two world wars, but particularly World War II, and the Algerian war of independence affected these subsequent codifications of the laws of war.

The relationship between established powers and emerging powers is one of the most important topics in world politics. Nevertheless, few studies have investigated how the leading state in the international system responds to power shifts in peripheral regions—actors that are not yet and might never become great powers but that are still increasing their strength, extending their influence, and trying to reorder their corner of the world. This book fills this gap, and draws on different strands of realist theory to develop a novel framework that explains why leading states have accommodated some rising regional powers but opposed others. The book examines the interaction between two factors: the type of local order that a leading state prefers and the type of local power shift that appears to be taking place. The first captures a leading state's main interest in a peripheral region and serves as the baseline for its evaluation of any changes in the status quo. The second indicates how a local power shift is likely to unfold. In particular, which regional order is an emerging power trying to create and does a leading state expect it to succeed? The book analyzes Great Britain's efforts to manage the rise of Egypt, the Confederacy, and Japan during the nineteenth century and the United States' efforts to manage the emergence of India and Iraq during the twentieth century.

This book considers how policymakers react to dramatic developments on the world stage. Few expected the Berlin Wall to come down in November 1989; no one anticipated the devastating attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon in September 2001. American foreign policy had to adjust quickly to an international arena that was completely transformed. The book assembles a number of officials as contributors. These policymakers describe how they went about making strategy for a world fraught with possibility and peril. They offer provocative reinterpretations of the economic strategy advanced by the George H. W. Bush administration, the bureaucratic clashes over policy toward the breakup of the USSR, the creation of the Defense Policy Guidance of 1992, the expansion of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), the writing of the National Security Strategy Statement of 2002, and the invasion of Iraq in 2003. A group of scholars address these same topics. They examine whether opportunities were seized and whether threats were magnified and distorted. They assess whether academicians and independent experts would have done a better job than the policymakers did. Together, policymakers and scholars impel us to rethink how our world has changed and how policy can be improved in the future.

One of the most contentious issues in contemporary foreign policy—especially in the United States—is the use of military force to intervene in the domestic affairs of other states. Some military interventions explicitly try to transform the domestic institutions of the states they target; others do not, instead attempting only to reverse foreign policies or resolve disputes without trying to reshape the internal landscape of the target state. This book provides a framework for understanding when and why great powers seek to transform foreign institutions and societies through military interventions. It highlights a crucial but often-overlooked factor in international relations: the role of individual leaders. The book argues that leaders' threat perceptions—specifically, whether they believe that threats ultimately originate from the internal characteristics of other states—influence both the decision to intervene and the choice of intervention strategy. These perceptions affect the degree to which leaders use intervention to remake the domestic institutions of target states. Using archival and historical sources, the book concentrates on U.S. military interventions during the Cold War, focusing on the presidencies of Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson. After demonstrating the importance of leaders in this period, it also explores the theory's applicability to other historical and contemporary settings including the post-Cold War period and the war in Iraq.

Why are prisoners horribly abused in some wars but humanely cared for in others? This book explores the profound differences in the ways that captives are treated during armed conflict. It focuses on the dual role played by regime type and the nature of the conflict in determining whether captor states opt for brutality or mercy. Integrating original data on prisoner treatment during the last century of interstate warfare with in-depth historical cases, the book demonstrates how domestic constraints and external incentives shape the fate of captured enemy combatants. Both Russia and Japan, for example, treated prisoners very differently in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–5 and in World War II. The behavior of any given country is liable to vary from conflict to conflict and even within the same war. Democracies may be more likely to treat their captives humanely, yet this benevolence is rooted less in liberal norms of nonviolence than in concerns over public accountability. When such concerns are weak or absent, democracies are equally capable of brutal conduct toward captives. In conflicts that devolve into protracted fighting, belligerents may inflict violence against captives as part of a strategy of exploitation and to coerce the adversary into submission. When territory is at stake, prisoners are further at risk of cruel treatment as their captors seek to permanently remove the most threatening sources of opposition within newly conquered lands.

Most wars between countries end quickly and at relatively low cost. The few in which high-intensity fighting continues for years bring about a disproportionate amount of death and suffering. What separates these few unusually long and intense wars from the many conflicts that are far less destructive? This book tests three explanations for a nation's decision to go to war and continue fighting regardless of the costs. It combines statistical analysis of interstate wars over the past two centuries with nine narrative case studies. The book examines well-known conflicts as well as unfamiliar ones. When leaders go to war expecting easy victory, events usually correct their misperceptions quickly and with fairly low casualties, thereby setting the stage for a negotiated agreement. A second explanation involves motives born of domestic politics; as war becomes more intense, however, leaders are increasingly constrained in their ability to continue the fighting. Particularly destructive wars instead arise from mistrust of an opponent's intentions. Countries that launch preventive wars to forestall expected decline tend to have particularly ambitious war aims that they hold to even when fighting goes poorly. Moreover, in some cases, their opponents interpret the preventive attack as evidence of a dispositional commitment to aggression, resulting in the rejection of any form of negotiation and a demand for unconditional surrender.