Stephen Walt has already responded, and there have already been some great posts on the broader issue of what really counts as offshore balancing, here, and here.

One of the difficulties in the endless debate over how to taxonomise US strategic behaviour is that many folk naturally emphasise techniques or goals (or means and ends) at the other’s expense. Perhaps this reflects a deeper reflex in Washington foreign policy debate, where the overriding goals of American diplomacy are debated far less intensively than the means. Muscular liberals might agree with Neoconservatives that the ultimate goal is American benevolent primacy in the world, which in turn would advance American and global security, but they disagree at times over how to get there (consensual multilateralism and institution-building or hawkish unilateral action, etc). At times this can lead to a certain ‘narcissism of small differences.’ So there is a temptation to stress the ‘offshore’ aspect and downplay ‘balancing.’ As Peter Beinart characterises it:

One way of understanding America’s shifting policy in the Middle East is that we’re moving offshore. Instead of directly occupying Islamic lands, we’re trying to secure our interests from the sea, the air and by equipping our allies. That’s in large measure what the Obama administration is trying to do in East Asia, too.The central message of Obama’s trip last week to Australia was that the U.S. finally is focused on restraining China’s rise in the Pacific. And how will the U.S. do that? A token deployment of Marines in northern Australia notwithstanding, the Obama administration’s strategy will be to buttress America’s naval presence in the Pacific and aid those nations on China’s periphery that fear its hegemonic ambitions.

This echoes the approach of the likes of Robert Pape, who argues (especially in the context of how to reduce anti-American terrorism) for a lighter footprint and a more naval-oriented military posture. And to be sure, it is important to consider that a big part of driving down the costs of American strategy could be moving offshore and avoiding large-scale expeditionary land commitments.

But offshore balancing, at least as it has been formulated since the first generation of post World War Two realists all the way to contemporaries such as Barry Posen, Christopher Preble and Christopher Layne, is a bigger and more demanding creature than that.

It isn’t just an alternative path to maintaining American hegemony abroad, or to making hegemony cheaper. It proposes a substantively new role for the U.S. in the world. As Brian C. Schmidt argues observantly in a paper he gave a while back, it is an argument that the US abandon the pursuit of unipolar primacy in the world. Its about ‘ends’ as well as ‘means’, or at least, it argues that America’ security interests are better served by accommodating what is inevitable, the return of mulitpolarity.

Take Obama’s recent Defence Strategic Guidance, and the stance he articulated recently, orienting the US strategically towards East Asia while scaling back its onshore commitments, de-emphasising prolonged counter-insurgency and nation-building missions and ramping up investment in drones and cyber capabilities.

While it may be tempting to define this – as some of Obama’s defenders and supporters do- as a fundamental grand strategic shift, it really isn’t. Its an attempt to pursue the existing, inherited grand strategic goal (the preservation of American primacy) while adjusting the ever-shifting mix of military supremacy, deterrence, reassurance, democratisation and liberalisation, in an apparently increasing important part of the world where the economic weight and political ambition is moving. (It is also, incidentally, a softly expressed but unmistakable confirmation that America is drawing down its military protectorate in Europe).

The title of Obama’s Defence Strategic Guidance gives the game away: ‘Sustaining U.S. Global Leadership.’ Which is a polished, euphemistic way of saying that America is not abandoning its role as No. 1, the guardian of world order. Offshore Balancers who go beyond tactics and techniques and methods do not usually share this ambition. In fact, they regard the pursuit of primacy and the vehicle to pursue it -a vast, forward-leaning military-strategic presence, a set of permanent formal alliances, and the attempt to remake the world in America’s image – as pernicious, exhausting, prone to inviting ‘free riding’ from others and creating security dilemmas unintentionally, as well as damaging American democracy at home. If America isn’t to embrace an amoral cynicism in place of the Pax Americana, they argue that it can better embody and repair its values at home, as an example to the world.

The main challenge for offshore balancing, in trying to navigate a mid-point between isolation and hegemony, is how to operationalise such a role, and how to give it geopolitical shape. In other words, precisely where would US forces be parked if they aren’t just to pack up and go home, and how should the US prepare for the possibility of competitive balancing or even bandwagoning if its onshore presence its reduced? On that note, I’m writing a little pamphlet that will be published later in 2012, all being well.

The suspense must be killing you.

In the realm of strategy, Obama has introduced some change. He is reshaping the US military away from major expeditionary land wars and towards standoff capabilities, such as drones, naval/air strikes, different forms of war such as cyber, and a renewed emphasis on burden shifting through training up allies and proxies.

But as Stephen Walt points out, while he is (sensibly, I think, given the austerity of the times) altering the ‘means’, his aim is fixed and indistinguishable from his predecessor and from US grand strategy in the past few decades – unchallengeable primacy:

 …the “leaner” military budget revealed yesterday does not herald a fundamental change in our overall approach to the rest of the world. The United States will still be spending several times more on national security than any other single country, and more than the top ten or so nations combined.

Our strategic attention will shift toward Asia and away from protracted counter-insurgency efforts (decisions that I applaud), but the United States will still be a preponderant power, will still maintain an extensive array of military bases around the world, and will still be strongly disposed to interfere in other nation’s affairs.

We may be using somewhat different tools (i.e., drones and special forces rather than large occupying armies), but these are tactical rather than strategic adjustments.

By contrast, Ron Paul advocates withdrawal, retrenchment, demilitarisation of foreign policy, non-interference and even the end of foreign aid.

Ron Paul’s candidacy is both good and bad for the debate. Good, because at least a non-trivial candidate is arguing the case for greater restraint:

 Unlike most foreign policy “experts” in both parties, Paul believes the United States is an extraordinarily secure country, with a robust nuclear deterrent, no powerful enemies nearby, and at present no major power rivals of much significance. He instinctively rejects the paranoia and worst-casing that has convinced Americans that we need to roam around the world trying to remake it in our image (a task, by the way, that we’re not very good at). He believes that excessive interventionism and other failed policies are a primary cause of anti-Americanism around the world, and that the United States would be more popular and safer if we focused more attention on trade and diplomacy and domestic issues instead of emphasizing military dominance and overseas meddling. He believes that a bloated national security state and a quasi-imperial foreign policy inevitably fosters greater government secrecy and erodes traditional restraints on executive power. And like former president (and five-star general) Dwight D. Eisenhower, he thinks the current military-industrial complex wields excessive influence on our politics and has become a self-perpetuating engine for counter-productive meddling abroad.

But it is also bad, not only because his inflammatory record on other issue (apparently including race) could taint the case for restraint with the accusation of provincial isolationism, but because Paul is essentially an isolationist. This is bad news, because it makes it harder than ever to distinguish other more restrained strategies (such as Concert/Balance ones, which look for a middle ground between dominance and isolation) from the kind of insularity that Paul is accused of.

Again the question of attacking Iran is on the table, especially since the recent publication of the IAEA Report on Iran’s nuclear programme, and some recent sharp debate sparked by Matthew Kroenig’s piece in Foreign Affairs.  

Three considerations suggest a tragedy, or a collision of actions and unintended reactions and our collective inability to deal with it. Here they are:

1. Iran’s nuclear ambition is strong, resilient and probably irreversible. In Hugh White’s words, it will have its nuclear way. That does not necessarily mean it is determined to acquire a fully developed nuclear capability, but at least a latent, ‘breakout’ capability to nuclearise at short notice.

Its not hard to see why dissident opponents of the Iranian regime agree that Iran should have a nuclear programme. Iran lives in a dangerous neighborhood, not only including its loathed enemy Israel, but a set of Arab states who oppose its growing power in the region and who are being armed by the United States. The  US itself has a large military presence in the Gulf. And with its allied regime in Syria meeting growing resistance, it must be wary of isolation. 

Tehran has witnessed, in the past decade, a superpower and adversary attack and overthrow regimes that had no nuclear deterrent, including the Taliban, Saddam Hussein and Colonel Qaddafi. Two of those regimes were its neighbours. And while the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have added to its insecurity, they have also created vacuums into which it can increase its power and influence. This may well have created a dangerous witches brew, in which the regime psychologically is both more frightened and more confident. 

To be sure, a range of considerations may given Tehran pause about going nuclear. Its strategic nightmare would be facing a combined Israel-American-Arab bloc, not to mention a sanctions regime finally and fully embraced by China and Russia, who would be willing to go beyond limited sanctions to contain a nuclear Iran. Hence its continuing and vocal support for the Palestinian cause, as a way of splitting Arab popular opinion and Arab governments.

But the arguments for going nuclear may well tip the balance. The US is already lavishly re-arming states such as Saudi Arabia as an insurance measure. Israel is already rattling its sabre. Attacking Iran is an open and mainstream proposal in American political life presently, and among Beltway insiders. For a regime strongly motivated to survive, and a fractured polity that agrees on this one big question, not only might nuclear breakout capability be attractive, but an attack could lead it to accelerate in a ‘crash programme.’ 

 2.  Israel believes that war works. In my little book published a few years ago, I wrote a chapter on the Israel-Hezbollah-Lebanon war of 2006, arguing that in many respects, Israel’s bombing and ground campaign failed, especially in their attempt to destroy Hezbollah as a political force. Whether or not that was right, at least three smart and relatively moderate Israeli military thinkers disagreed profoundly and told me so. 

Israel was being rocketed from Lebanon, waged war on Lebanon, and the rocket attacks have dried up. Israel was being rocketed from Hamas-ruled Gaza, struck back with Operation Cast Lead in late 2008, and the rocket attacks dried up. Both wars triggered internal inquests and debate in Israel, but the general reading of those operations was that the focussed, prepared and swift use of force can ‘mow the lawn’, so to speak.

As Dana Allin and Steven Simon argue, a confidence in the use of force can be buttressed by other parts of its strategic memory:

‘when Israel acted in the past, it was usually happy with the results. In 1981, Israeli planes destroyed the Iraqi reactor at Osirak – to loud international condemnation, and quiet international relief. In 2007, the Israelis destroyed a nuclear facility in Syria; this time even the Syrians kept quiet. To do what needs to be done, and then ride out the reaction, can seem a reasonable approach in a hostile world.’

3. A nuclear Iran will present grave dangers – but so will attacking a pre-nuclear Iran.

While I agree with the conclusions of realists like Stephen Walt, that attacking Iran is a bad idea, I don’t share their assumption that because deterrence works, a nuclear Iran does not pose a significant security risk.

Even if nukes do often deter, and even if acquiring nuclear weapons has historically made states such as Mao’s China moderate their behaviour, nuclear proliferation is still dangerous. Firstly, as the history of the Cold War shows, it took luck as well as skill for us all to live with a nuclear rivalry. The extreme danger posed by such weapons, as well as incomplete information, human fallibility, quick decision windows and the hair-trigger status of these systems means that accident and misperception have come close a number of times to a catastrophic nuclear exchange – from the Cuban Missile Crisis to the Able Archer incident to the mistaking of flocks of geese or a Norwegian weather satellite for an incoming strike. 

Moreover, an Iranian nuclear capability, latent or complete, could well trigger an arms race, escalating buildup and at minimum, dangerous confrontation. 

But attacking Iran probably would increase its determination to go nuclear, and make it both more insecure and more angry. It would probably provoke it into some kind of retaliation: a closure of the Straits of Hormuz and a resulting oil shock; attacks on American or allied forces in the region; or unleashing its proxies into further aggression.

And, however unreasonable it would be, an attempt to forestall an Iranian bomb through force would be received as a major step towards a clash of civilizations. Arab states might quietly be relieved – but Arab populations may well not. An external crisis of this kind could well have a unifying effect on Iranians and delegitimise domestic opposition with the charge of fifth columnist disloyalty. The chances of Iran going nuclear would be increased politically, while the chances of a milder regime being in office when it did would plummet. 

We could be in for stormy days ahead. 

The Iran question is again stirring, after the IAEA’s report and renewed debate among strategic analysts. I’ll post some thoughts up shortly.

If so, what does this say about the surge? On one hand, the relatively quiet withdrawal of American troops on Tuesday vindicated one objective of the surge: to create more stable conditions to that America could pull out quietly without it being humiliated and without the kind of chaotic flight to the exits that would polarize its society.

On the other hand, the major declared objective of the surge launched by President Bush II in 2006-7 was to depress levels of violence, secure the population and thereby create critical space in which there could be political progress and reconciliation.

Advocates of enlightened counterinsurgency and muscular state-building argued that Iraq vindicated their position. They argued that the combination of more troops and more restraint played a major role in depressing the levels of violence and giving Iraq a breathing space to recover from the communal bloodletting it suffered in the post-invasion years.

But if Iraq descends again into the traumatic violence of 2005-6, we must acknowledge that this approach had its limits. It bought time and got the issue off the front pages – no small thing for a superpower that has seen presidencies destroyed in the past by protracted small wars – but a new civil war of sorts would suggest that the surge did not achieve its most profound objective.

Its not actually obvious, historically, that gentler, more sophisticated ‘hearts and minds’ campaigns necessarily work, if we define success as marginalising insurgencies while leaving behind a strong state that governs in the interests of the departing occupier.

Successful counterinsurgency campaigns in the past relied on favourable geopolitical conditions and some pretty unsentimental techniques. Forced population resettlements, virtual concentration camps (albeit with well-run facilities), indiscriminate bombings, bribery on a massive scale, proxy violence, etc. Which is precisely one reason why I am uneasy with our countries doing this kind of campaign, given the dark price victory has often exacted.

In some ways, the Petraeus revolution mixed the fluffy, appealing liberal versions of hearts and minds (cultural literacy, heroic restraint, a population-centric view that you can’t kill your way out) with some hard-nosed methods, such as walling off warring communities, putting potential insurgents on the payroll, and sustaining a round-the-clock kill and capture programme.

And yet, car bombs are going off and there are new rumours of war.

Alternatively, there is the line being peddled that America should not have left. Making Iraq an indefinite commitment would be mightily expensive. And by shouldering this burden well into the future, it would come at other costs, putting the US in the eye of whatever storms were coming in the future.

Ultimately, Iraq showed in a brutal way how limited American power is. If the surge only bought some time and space, and postponed another round of internal conflict (possibly metastasizing into a wider regional one), then policymakers should not conclude that perpetual armed nation-building works if only we get our methods right. Ultimately, COIN just isn’t a venture that we should fatalistically accept as part of our strategic future.

Contrary to the late Christopher Hitchens, endless war is not only a bad idea. It is beyond America’s limited strength. And compared to its costs, its dividends, at least in this case, may be slight indeed.

He will be acclaimed for his literary criticism, his political stances, and his raw physical courage as a writer-journalist, entering dangerous battlespaces from Belgrade to Baghdad. Not to mention his wit, occasional rudeness, his filthy limericks, and his dignified and reflective meditations on his coming death. His greatest work, I think, was Why Orwell Matters – a penetrating study of another brave and ferociously sharp Englishman.

I was lucky enough to meet him a few times, and interview him. He drank a whole bottle of whiskey and actually got sharper as the conversation went on. And it was great to witness his public fight with George Galloway at Baruch College in New York, an exhilirating showdown between the different tribes of the Left.

Some obituaries are summarising Hitchens’ politics crudely as an evolution from Left to Right. That is misleading. Like some other former revolutionaries, Hitchens came to believe that the most revolutionary force in world politics – the only viable remaining revolution – was the United States, and the most liberating instrument was its military power. We have seen the limits of that power, and the tragedies that flow from a utopian politics, but Hitchens believed himself to be on the side of revolution until the end. 

I’ll never forget walking around the Quadrangle at Christ Church College Oxford with him for a few minutes, and arguing about whether it was religion or dogmatism of any stripe that was the true problem. It was a bit rash to pick an argument with the man who had been voted the world’s second ranked intellectual.

But it was a sparkling little moment, culminating in drinks at the Bear pub nearby. A drink and a row about God. He wouldn’t ask for anything more.

Well met, Hitch. It was good for the world that you were here.

Bottom line: liberal military interventions can work, but should not be contemplated in a strategic vacuum, given the tendency of military actions to have perverse and unintententional consequences as well as desired ones. In the most recent case, attacking and overthrowing the Qaddafi regime may be promising for majority human rights in Libya, but for imprisoned and tortured black Africans, and for non-proliferation, the omens are bad.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the US-led invasion of Afghanistan. But it is not the anniversary of the start of the war between the United States, the Al Qaeda network, and the Taliban. The armed struggle can be dated earlier to Osama Bin Laden’s fatwa and unilateral declaration of war on the US in August 1996. After Bin Laden was evicted from Sudan, he found sanctuary in Afghanistan by buying the Taliban regime that became host.

The invasion toppled the Taliban regime; dispersed Al Qaeda; led to a sustained counter-terrorist killing and capturing programme that straddles Afghanistan-Pakistan; and a protracted effort at armed state-building that attempts to transform Afghanistan into a strong, centrally-governed democracy. This was the first stride in a broader project, to combat terrorism by remaking the Arab-Islamic world.

The invasion made life more dangerous and insecure for Al Qaeda and its affiliates, yet it also made the world more inhospitable to American power. It inflicted a level of attrition on Al Qaeda’s pool of talent and diverted its efforts towards trying to survive, constraining its ability to prepare complex, mass-casualty attacks on America and its allies. However, the damage inflicted by our military presence and the continuous offensive also had radicalising side-effects, creating ‘accidental’ guerrillas resisting international forces because they are there, and powering the claim of militant Islamists that the West is conducting a crusade against Islam.

The attempt to ‘fix’ a broken third world nation has led to the creation of a weak and corrupt regime in Kabul and the decentralisation of power amongst localised players such as the Haqqani criminal network. It leaves Afghanistan as a country barely with an economy beyond international aid and criminal activity, with Afghans having to endure the dilemmas of surviving between competing bids on their loyalty. As America draws down its forces, Afghanistan may be torn into a continuing struggle between a Taliban that is too weak to seize power nationally, and a state that lacks authority to govern.

Geopolitically, the war has strained Pakistan’s relationships with its neighbours as it tries to balance combating the Taliban with its search for strategic depth on its western flank, and it has jeopardised its relationship with the United States.

But the most profound significance of the invasion is that it led to the war in Iraq. Because America quickly overthrew the Taliban in a country infamous for being the ‘graveyard of empires’, this gave false confidence to the Bush II Administration, which concluded that it could do the same thing against the easy target of Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Thus Afghanistan was the catalyst for a greater disaster in the Gulf, which in turn accelerated the erosion of American power in the world.

The book is great and imposing, but I think a little harsh on interwar statesmen and the weak hand they had to play against the rise of totalitarianism. There never was a good time to fight Hitler, and in many respects, 1939-41 for all its terrors was not as bad as it might have been in 1938.

Also delighted that I’ll be writing a piece on ‘Offshore Balancing’ Strategies and Great Power Concerts for the SSI Fellows‘ series, looking especially at the dilemmas that new grand strategies will have to face in the Asia-Pacific.

Can the US abandon hegemony and scale down its military-strategic presence while also effectively collaborating with other great powers to prevent the kinds of geopolitical nightmares that often come with transitions in world power? And can it persuade its own population that the days of hegemony are over and its time to accept a more multipolar era? Those are the questions I’ll be looking at.