Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Thucydides, Machiavelli, and China

To understand the dynamics of the nations which border the South China Sea, historian Robert Kaplan gives us analogies. First, he mentions Thucydides; second, he cites Machiavelli.

In his famous book, which primarily recounts the events of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides includes an account known as the ‘Melian Dialogue’ which summarizes discussions between representatives of the island of Melos and representatives of the city of Athens.

The Athenians present an ultimatum to the Melians: surrender and become subjects of Athens, or suffer a massive attack by the superior Athenian military. In the context of the war (431 B.C. to 404 B.C.), the Melian dialogue reveals the naked lust for power which motivates Athens.

The Athenians refuse even to attempt a justification of their actions, simply pointing to their superior power. The Melians find themselves unable to move the Athenians by any moral or rhetorical appeal.

Robert Kaplan argues that China’s superiority, by any and every metric, relative to Vietnam, Malaysia, the Philippines, and other nations around the South China Sea, allows China to simply state its terms and ignore any attempt at negotiation.

The only factor at work is the balance of power, and the only significant change in this balance happens if, or when, the United States takes a side. Otherwise, the nations of the western Pacific are at the mercy of China, and China doesn’t have much mercy:

The moral drama that does occur will take the form of austere power politics, of the sort that leaves many intellectuals and journalists numb. Imagine the Melian Dialogue from the Fifth Book of Thucydides, but without the killing of the Melian menfolk, and without the enslavement of the children and womenfolk that followed — ­and that provided for the tragedy in the first place. In this revised Melian Dialogue for the twenty-­first century: the Athenians, Greece’s preeminent sea power, tell the Melians that while Athens is strong, Melos is weak, and therefore must submit. As Thucydides writes, “The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” Thus, the Melians give in without violence. This will be China’s undeclared strategy, and the weaker countries of Southeast Asia may well bandwagon with the United States to avoid the Melians’ fate: in other words, power politics, almost mathematical in its abstractions, without war.

Turning from Thucydides to Machiavelli, Kaplan points out that the South China Sea area might hold the possibility of realistic improvement regarding global conflict. Such conflict, he argues, is inevitable. We can, however, he learns from Machiavelli, manage it.

Accepting some form of war as unavoidable - for this is what it means to be human - Kaplan hopes that massive civilian casualties can be reduced or nearly eliminated, especially in the context of a naval war. Given that human nature is what it is - imperfect and flawed - managed warfare might leave room for simultaneous constructive social activity.

Attempting to avoid the extremes of a jaundiced cynicism on the one hand, and of a naive idealism on the other, Kaplan hopes to find a realistic middle in this concept of managed warfare. Whether or not he succeeds, the reader may determine:

The Cold War excepted, the South China Sea presages a very different form of conflict than the ones to which we have become accustomed from World War I to Iraq and Syria. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, we have been traumatized by massive and conventional land engagements on one hand, and dirty, irregular small wars on the other. Because both kinds produced colossal civilian casualties, war, as I’ve said, has been the subject of humanists as well as of generals. But in the future we just might see a purer form of conflict (at least in East Asia), limited to the naval realm, with little for the intellectual journals of opinion to chew over: like the struggle between the United States and the Soviet Union, but without the prospect of land warfare. This is a positive scenario. For conflict cannot be eliminated from the human condition. A theme in Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy is that conflict, properly controlled, is more likely to lead to human progress than rigid stability. A sea crowded with warships does not contradict an era of great human progress for Asia.

The South China Sea will be the stage for - peaceful or belligerent - significant international events in the decades to come. The dynamics are complex, because the competitors are not merely bilateral but multilateral.

In some cases, a region of sea or an island is simultaneously claimed and coveted by three or more states. The waterways are the routes for a significant percentage of global trade.

China overshadows the region, and the smaller nations, even if allied with each other, are clearly the weaker party. To achieve some balance of power - echoes of Metternich? - other countries would need to ally themselves with the smaller Vietnam, Malaysia, the Philippines, Taiwan, etc., against China.

The United States, while the most obvious third party, is not the only possible one. India has enough economic clout and the economic interest to make an impact in the region if it chooses, although its military would need to be upgraded for the purpose.

Should Japan, South Korea, or Russia choose to ally themselves in the matter, they also would make significant difference. The European Union and the UK would almost certainly choose not to take part.

Whichever configuration emerges, diplomats will work to calculate the balance of power and adjust accordingly. If they do so accurately, actual armed conflict might be avoided.