Pacific Power Paradox: American Statecraft and the Fate of the Asian Peace 9780300268713

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations and Acronyms
Introduction
Chapter one. The Asian Peace as a Guide to Statecraft
Chapter two. Founding the Asian Peace
Chapter three. Conservative Domination of Asia
Chapter four. A Unipolar Imperium and Its Discontents
Chapter five. The War on Terror versus Great-Power Competition
Chapter six. Pivoting in Posthegemony Asia
Chapter seven. The Risk-Wager Imbalance of the Trump Era
Chapter eight. Searching for an Indo-Pacific Peace
Notes
Index

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pacific power paradox

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PACIFIC POWER PARADOX American Statecraft and the Fate of the Asian Peace

VA N J A C K S O N

New Haven and London

Published with assistance from the Mary Cady Tew Memorial Fund. Copyright © 2023 by Van Jackson. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, including illustrations, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publishers. Yale University Press books may be purchased in quantity for educational, business, or promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected] (U.S. office) or [email protected] (U.K. office). Set in Janson type by IDS Infotech Ltd. Printed in the United States of America. Library of Congress Control Number: 2022933647 ISBN 978-0-300-25728-1 (hardcover : alk. paper) A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper). 10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

Contents

Preface  vii Acknowledgments  ix List of Abbreviations and Acronyms  xi INTRODUCTION 1

1. The Asian Peace as a Guide to Statecraft  9 2. Founding the Asian Peace  29 3. Conservative Domination of Asia  42 4. A Unipolar Imperium and Its Discontents  71 5. The War on Terror versus Great-Power Competition  105 6. Pivoting in Posthegemony Asia  131 7. The Risk-Wager Imbalance of the Trump Era  164 8. Searching for an Indo-Pacific Peace  197 Notes  213 Index  271

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Preface

HAD I TRIED TO write this book at any prior moment in my life, it would have come out differently. Or maybe not at all. But it has been percolating since the first time I was introduced to the puzzle of the East Asian peace a decade ago. The peace puzzle and the academic debates surrounding it struck me as vital to informed statecraft, and it troubled me that nobody in Washington ever talked about it . . . or thought about the absence of war as anything more than the by-product of American hegemony. How could the United States engage with the region on the basis of ideas and presumptions that had only incidental intersections with a puzzle so important? How could it be okay to live with a distorted sense of not only what kept war at bay but also what could make for a deeper and more durable peace? And since American hegemony was fracturing before our eyes (it was the Obama era), what would become of the Asian peace if the conceit of U.S. policy makers was more correct than many scholars had previously acknowledged? Whereas the Washington of my early career offered no room for these kinds of questions, the Trump era made them impossible not to ask. As unusual and erratic as Trump was stylistically, what eventually discomfited me most about that time was the shocking amount of continuity his administration represented in U.S. foreign policy, especially toward East Asia and the Pacific. That many of us failed to see Trump’s policies as such owed to the way in which we—scholars, practitioners, pundits, the media—regurgitated stories vii

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about America as a beneficent “Pacific power” that were at best reductive and at worst propagandistic. In my first cut at this book, in fact, I assumed I would be portraying Trump as a stunning rupture in U.S. statecraft. But as I revisited the archival material, old speeches, and strategy documents of past presidents, I could no longer deny that the Trump era was an amplification of habits that had always been in U.S. statecraft but simply not in our narrative about it. I came to see our collective mythologizing of what was often really American imperiousness as encouraging U.S. policy makers to play with Asia’s fate without even realizing it. And that was why the United States had become Asia’s greatest source of volatility. This book is my reckoning with all of that: a bridge between the worlds of knowledge (where scholars theorized and measured the Asian peace) and practice (where many policy makers had a self-aggrandizing theory of security that was sometimes right). It gives America due credit for sustaining the Asian peace where and when that is actually true—but it does not shy away from showing us how America has been not just Asia’s firefighter but also its arsonist and an impediment to more durable forms of security. Above all, this is an attempt to correct our vision of the past, and to reconcile ourselves with how the region itself has been changing. As I write this, the sun has not yet set on the Biden presidency, but what we have seen so far corrects for the Trump administration’s style far more than for its substance, which worries me about what comes after.

Acknowledgments

I OWE A DEBT of thanks to many people for supporting me while I wrote this book, for infusing me with the ideas and verve that brought the book to life, and for giving me their time in one way or another. Because I’m already pushing my contracted word count, I’ll simply keep the roll call limited to Kristin Chambers, who both inspires me and makes the suffering worthwhile; to my editor, Jaya Chatterjee, who saw enough promise in the early (and very different) version of the book to become its champion; and to Andrew Yeo, who introduced me to the East Asian peace. They were the vital elements. But my gratitude extends far beyond them, too.

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Abbreviations and Acronyms

6PT A2/AD ADB ADIZ ADMM-Plus AIIB AMF ANZUS APEC ARF ASB ASEAN ASEAN+3 BRI CCP COFA CPTPP DPG DSG EAEC EAS EEZ

Six-Party Talks anti-access / area denial Asian Development Bank air defense identification zone ASEAN Defence Ministers’ Meeting-Plus Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank Asian Monetary Fund Australia, New Zealand, and United States Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation ASEAN Regional Forum AirSea Battle Association of Southeast Asian Nations Association of Southeast Asian Nations Plus  Three Belt and Road Initiative Chinese Communist Party Compact of Free Association Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for   Trans-Pacific Partnership Defense Planning Guidance Defense Strategic Guidance East Asia Economic Caucus East Asia Summit exclusive economic zone xi

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FONOP GPC IFI IMF INF KEDO NIC NPR NSC NSDD NSS OECD ONA PECC PIF PLA QDR RCEP SCM SCO TAC TCOG TPP

Abbreviations and Acronyms

freedom of navigation operation great-power competition international financial institution International Monetary Fund intermediate-range nuclear forces Korean Peninsula Energy Development  Organization newly industrialized country Nuclear Posture Review National Security Council National Security Decision Directive National Security Strategy Organisation for Economic Co-operation and  Development Office of Net Assessment Pacific Economic Cooperation Council Pacific Islands Forum People’s Liberation Army Quadrennial Defense Review Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership Security Consultative Meeting Strategic Capabilities Office Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast  Asia Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group Trans-Pacific Partnership

p a ci fi c pow er paradox

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Introduction

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in the Himalayas straddling India and China, known as the Galwan River valley, is prone to the kind of extreme temperatures that can kill. On June 15, 2020, they did, with more than a little help from the forces of China’s People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and the Indian Army. The two militaries clashed there in a brawl that resulted in the deaths of at least twenty Indian soldiers, possibly twice that many PLA soldiers, and left more than seventysix others injured.1 China launched the attack, claiming that Indian forces had “provoked” it, but not with modern weapons. Instead of rifles, tanks, and drones, the PLA relied on fists and nail-studded iron clubs.2 Nevertheless, the scrap produced scores of casualties; there were gruesome accounts of soldiers being pushed off cliffs to their deaths and of some being unable to attend to their injuries in the subzero temperatures.3 The Galwan River valley was part of a long—more than two thousand miles—and long-simmering border dispute between the two continental great powers dating back to the unresolved Sino-Indian War in 1962, but this represented the first bloodletting to occur over the standoff since 1975. On the same day as China’s melee with India, June 15, 2020, North Korea’s military took credit for an explosion that destroyed the Inter-Korean Liaison Office at Kaesong, an important symbol of cooperation with South Korea established less than two years earlier. Kim Yo-jong, the sister of North Korea’s leader Kim Jong-un, CONTESTED REMOTE TERRITORY

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Introduction

warned only days before the attack that North Korea would be taking a series of hostile actions against South Korea. P’yo˘ngyang had a track record of lashing out against the South—for domestic political reasons, to punish South Korea for actions the North deemed unacceptable, and as a signaling tool in nuclear bargaining games with the United States. But the attack came in the context of a progressive South Korean presidency that was making efforts to forge peace and reconciliation with the North. The attack was a rare instance of North Korean aggression when the South was in a conciliatory mode. The Sino-Indian and Korean Peninsula incidents involved historical rivalries and nuclear arsenals. Both also involved clear but calibrated acts of aggression that were not intended to start a war but willfully manipulated the risk of war all the same. Because the attacks had very different circumstances and motivations, it was a coincidence that they occurred on the same day. In hindsight, however, they were also signaling the same thing: a new era of regional precarity that had been building for years. Of course, in the larger sweep of the region’s history, these incidents were unremarkable. Asia has been wracked by large-scale violence for nearly two centuries. War befell “at least one East Asian neighborhood in every single decade” going back to 1839, when the British and Chinese empires clashed in the Opium Wars.4 And most of the twentieth century was uniquely unkind. During that time, Asia was an object of colonial exploitation and subjugation by European empires, the United States, and Japan. It was the bloodiest battleground in World War II. As of this writing, Asia remains the only place where nuclear weapons have been used in an attack. Its people have suffered from a string of genocides and human atrocities. And for decades after World War II, Asia continued to serve as both a venue for, and an object of, interstate wars and mass-casualty violence. Until 1979. Despite pressures and predictions casting Asia as a “cockpit of great power conflict,” especially after the Cold War,5 no interstate wars have been initiated in Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, or the Pacific since 1979. This period of relative stability, commonly described as the “Asian peace,”6 is a remarkable achievement not only because of its stark contrast with the long century of violence and

Introduction

3

political tumult that preceded it,7 but also because, in the intervening period, Asia became the world’s wealthiest and highest-growth region. Stability begot economic—and in many places political— development. On the region’s periphery, democratic capitalism had already established anchors, in postcolonial India to the west and in Australia and New Zealand to the southeast. Then, in the 1960s, Asia itself started birthing a string of economic “miracles.” In the span of a generation, China, Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan evolved into advanced industrial economies and global financial hubs. In a number of countries, democracy even replaced authoritarianism.8 But the Asian peace has been less placid than implied. In the best of times, trust among Asian states remained measurably low.9 Insurgencies, terrorism, ethnic violence, maritime piracy, nuclear standoffs, and military adventurism persisted even as traditional conflict abated. Kleptocracy has been rampant. And old rivalries anchored in lingering territorial disputes, as well as great-power rivalries invoking the future of regional order, have become much more pronounced in the twenty-first century, particularly since the U.S.-centered 2008 financial crisis.10 Even in Asia’s most serene moments, then, the risk of interstate war never really disappeared; it had simply receded to the background. But no longer. In 2017, the region ended up on the brink of nuclear war as the United States and North Korea confronted each other over the latter’s nuclear weapons program—a problem that not only remains unresolved today but in most respects has worsened.11 Friction over Taiwan’s political independence, which has always been a regional flash point with China, reached new levels of contention in recent years as China took greater steps to isolate Taiwan from the international community, and the United States stepped up its military and symbolic support for Taiwan in direct antagonism of Beijing.12 By 2021, China was regularly flying fighter aircraft into Taiwan’s air defense identification zone (ADIZ) not only to make a veiled threat but also to wear down the readiness of Taiwan’s air force, which for a time scrambled fighters to meet these incursions.13 In 2017, the Sino-Indian border dispute escalated to overt threat making and military posturing and in 2020 escalated further still to small-scale violence.14 Between 2016 and 2018 alone, the

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Indian government claimed that China’s PLA crossed into Indian territory 1,025 times,15 and yet it may have been an Indian construction project on its side of the Line of Actual Control that triggered the Chinese attack in 2020. The South China Sea remains the region’s knottiest flash point, with six nations making over­ lapping sovereignty claims even as China occupies key portions of it with military facilities built on artificially constructed islands.16 After several years of waging a campaign of genocide against the minority ethnic Rohingya, the Burmese military staged a coup in 2021, triggering defiant pro-democracy protests that it met with violent suppression and civil war. Given Myanmar’s exposure to geopolitical currents from not only the United States and China but also India and Japan, a fast-emerging internal conflict showed signs of bringing about a disastrous Syria-like regional war to East Asia. Even Japan and South Korea, both democratic allies of the United States, have been overtaken in recent years by their historical antagonisms toward each other, which risks giving rise to a once unthinkable geopolitical rivalry if not well managed. And for the first time in decades, the United States and China have entered into direct, sustained confrontation with each other. Echoing the Cold War, deep cultures of mutual mistrust now pervade the relationship. Some in Washington and Beijing even fatalistically believe they have entered an inexorable “clash of civilizations.”17 These issues do not even encompass the totality of regional friction and interstate disputes, only the most likely pathways out of the Asian peace and into the world of conflict that pessimists prematurely warned about. The precarity of the Asian peace is a problem not only in its own right but for the United States as well. Crucially, the AsiaPacific is the only region outside North America where the United States has major territorial holdings. President Obama often relished calling the United States a “resident Pacific Power.”18 But how much has America really mattered, for good or ill? What U.S. decisions and thought processes have gone into preserving regional stability? How, if at all, does U.S. officials’ thinking about Asia over time differ from the way scholars have explained the absence of war in the region? To what extent has Washington been not just a source of, but also a threat to, regional security? More importantly,

Introduction

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what might the United States do to shore up an Asian peace that is today under tremendous strain? Answers to these questions depend on how we explain the Asian peace itself and America’s role in it.

Argument This book argues that sustaining the Asian peace requires not only acknowledging but also trying to improve on what I call the Pacific power paradox: the unvarnished reality that the United States has presented three different faces toward the Asian peace, sometimes simultaneously. The first face is that of the aloof hegemon. Several disputes and crises have bubbled up over the decades that have had little to do with the United States, and in which either Washington was disinterested or its decision-making was incidental to the course of events. Not everything has been about America. A second face is that of the vital bulwark. In a few crucial moments, U.S. choices have kept Asia out of war and over time have set a context that freed other states to pursue their own strategies of security and community building. More critically, however, a third face is that of the imperious superpower, maintaining a less-than-benign hegemony over Asia by conducting policies that undermined sources of the Asian peace, had negative side effects on the region, and sometimes directly risked war. America as a Pacific power, in other words, has not entirely lived up to its romanticized self-image of a benign “leader”; neither has it always been the region’s chief antagonist. Instead the United States has been, by turns, less important than ordinarily supposed, more of a safety net than regional narratives sometimes acknowledge, and yet also more threatening to the Asian peace than Washington policy makers’ imaginations have permitted them to recognize. America’s paradoxical relationship to the Asian peace becomes clearer in light of the numerous factors collectively responsible for it as a historical phenomenon. To be sure, the general deterrence furnished by America’s military presence in the region, and the U.S.-centered bilateral alliance system that enables it, have mattered a great deal, though as this book shows, there have also been moments when these same factors threatened stability because of how policy makers wielded them. But a generation of relative

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Introduction

peace has depended on much more than American power. It has also been bolstered by Sino-U.S. détente,19 intra-Asian economic interdependence, regionalism (and the institutions, norms, and peace-building practices that constitute it), and to some extent even democratization.20 Such a layered understanding of the Asian peace—one that treats these various sources of stability as historically contingent and mutually reinforcing—challenges two competing types of conventional wisdom about America’s role in Asia and by extension how we understand the absence of war there. One largely looks past the United States to explain the Asian peace in terms of local factors. Most research that specifically addresses some aspect of the Asian peace tends to marginalize the United States.21 Far more common, however, are claims that portray the United States as the “indispensable” hero of Asian stability. As U.S. secretary of state in 2011, Hillary Clinton echoed a sentiment that policy makers have stated many times before and since: “[Asia] is eager for our leadership and our business. . . . We have underwritten regional security for decades . . . [because of] our irreplaceable role in the Pacific.”22 Both images—peace as a local product and peace as an American export—render an incomplete picture of what American power and statecraft have meant for Asia. These conventional narratives need correcting because, to put it plainly, the Asian peace is in jeopardy today. Grappling seriously with how America fits in the story of a generation of nonwar offers a way of understanding (1) why many of Asia’s numerous crises during the past forty years became near misses rather than wars, (2) how the sources of regional stability have gradually been whittled down in large part because of the United States, and (3) why America’s margin for geopolitical error is smaller now than it has ever been. This book attempts an honest reckoning with America’s role in both sustaining and jeopardizing the Asian peace so that policy makers might steer themselves toward the former and avoid the latter. A Pacific power narrative more faithful to reality is a prerequisite for better statecraft. Acknowledging that America has been a major source of threat to the Asian peace as well as its occasional guarantor opens up possibilities for policy solutions that traditionally get short shrift in Washington—not only peace building, treaty making, arms control, and regional institutions beyond the

Introduction

7

United States, but also an economic statecraft that is more judicious about coercion and combats upstream causes of war like kleptocracy, oligarchy, widespread worker precarity, and climate maladaptation. The Pacific power paradox is a better narrative of America’s role in Asia because it is a more accurate one, and by extension a more useful one as a guide for policy. To totally write off or villainize the United States would be bad history. And to adopt an attitude of uncritical American exceptionalism that points to the Asian peace as some gift bequeathed to Asians would be not just condescending but dangerous, for it would elide the myriad ways the United States often unwittingly played with the fates of human lives across the vast expanse that is now sometimes called the Indo-Pacific. The task before anyone concerned about Asia, then, is not only to understand the historical sources of what has kept war at bay—which requires being clear-eyed about America’s mixed legacy—but also to come up with the right configuration of risk-taking and risk management in relation to them given what Washington’s politics allow and what the region’s shifting geopolitics demand. Consciously thinking about statecraft in relation to the Asian peace can help policy makers and the public triangulate that need.

The Way Ahead Chapter 1 provides a conceptual introduction to the Asian peace, explains why sustaining it has relied on many factors including and beyond the United States, and how a layered understanding of the peace can be leveraged to draw meaningful conclusions about U.S. statecraft in Asia. Chapter 2 discusses the emergence of the Asian peace in the context of pivotal decisions made between the United States and China during the Nixon, Ford, and Carter administrations. Sino-U.S. détente was a not entirely intentional founding moment for what would become the Asian peace. Chapter 3 evaluates the risks, wagers, and strategic thinking about Asia during the Reagan era—a time when the United States deliberately pursued a high-risk, military-centric approach to security but enjoyed the good fortune of doing so in a relatively

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Introduction

low-threat environment. Chapter 4 spans the bulk of the “unipolar moment,” starting in the George H. W. Bush administration and continuing through the Clinton presidency. U.S. strategy toward Asia in the immediate post–Cold War years was premised primarily on asserting continuity at a time of radical uncertainty before transitioning into a period of liberal hubris. Chapter 5 documents the war-on-terror coloring of the George W. Bush administration. The Bush era’s crusading wars of choice in the Middle East and Afghanistan, coincidentally, saved Asia from the worst of the neoconservative impulse. Chapter 6 examines U.S. strategy during the presidency of Barack Obama, who pursued a deliberately conservative approach of “rebalancing” to Asia—that is, reallocating greater time and resources away from the Middle East and toward the region deemed to be of greatest importance to U.S. interests. Chapter 7 presents America’s approach to Asia under Trump as hypermilitarized, mercantilist, as hostile to multilateral agreements as it was to China, and consumed with rectifying bilateral trade deficits and haphazardly imposing tariff barriers. Consequently, U.S. policy wrought trade wars, racially tinged antagonism toward a more aggressive China, nuclear crises, and a region on the edge. By amplifying some of the worst tendencies in U.S. statecraft over the decades, the Trump administration helped reduce the sources of the Asian peace to little more than military power and Chinese restraint, making the continued absence of war more tenuous than many realized. Chapter 8 concludes the book by drawing out policy-relevant insights from understanding the Pacific power paradox, outlining principles of action toward Asia and the broader Indo-Pacific region that are robust across a range of alternative futures. Asia is not well served by a Pacific power suffering from selfaggrandizement; neither is America. Knowing when the United States has mattered more or less, and for good or ill, is the only sustainable basis for good strategy. It also helps us see that Asian security is today structurally unsound. If we fail to appreciate America’s mixed legacy in Asia, we risk mythologizing or sleepwalking our way into war.

chapter one

The Asian Peace as a Guide to Statecraft

R

EVEALING AMERICA’S THREE FACES toward the Asian peace requires a more refined understanding of what it is (and is not) before using it to assess the risks and wagers implicated in U.S. policy across presidencies. This chapter therefore introduces the concept of the Asian peace and explains why its “causes” must be understood as the fortunate convergence of several factors that scholars have often analyzed in isolation. It then justifies using this layered understanding as a diagnostic baseline for evaluating risks and wagers in statecraft.

What Is the Asian Peace? While the threshold definition for the Asian peace is the absence of interstate wars, there is a measurement controversy over what constitutes war. Counting only declarations of war by one state against another is problematic for the obvious reason that wars can occur de facto, without being declared. So political scientists generally rely on numbers of casualties for counting armed conflicts, with debates about the minimum threshold usually varying between twenty-five and one thousand combat-related deaths.1 9

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This is why scholars analytically hive off the Indian Ocean region from “Asia” when framing the Asian peace—if it were included, it would obscure the puzzle. Although it has become fashionable to expand the definition of Asia to sometimes also include the Indian subcontinent and its surrounds—and, indeed, there is some analytical merit to doing so2—the 1999 Kargil War between India and Pakistan was a war by any definition. It involved mass military mobilizations, heightened nuclear risk, and produced more than four thousand casualties, with some estimates much higher. Indian and Pakistani troops, moreover, have intermittently fought over the disputed Siachen Glacier since 1984 and fought over Kashmir in 2001–2 in operations that produced more than three thousand casualties.3 If the Indian Ocean region is part of the Asian peace, then the peace never was. Yet a relative peace endured throughout East Asia and the Pacific since 1979, suggesting distinct logics of security exist in the Indian subcontinent that have very little overlap with those of Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, or Oceania. This may be changing, a subject I explore later in the book, but for the duration of the Asian peace, conflicts of the Indian Ocean region—specifically Indo-Pakistani rivalry but also Sri Lanka’s conflict with Tamils—have not intersected with East Asian flash points, have not been addressed within the scope of what we typically think of as Asia’s security architecture,4 and for better or worse have rarely entangled actors of the Asia-Pacific to date. To be sure, Asia’s recent history has been a “relative peace” rather than an absolute one, and justice during it has been very unevenly distributed.5 For this reason, the disagreements about defining and measuring peace are more interesting than the contestation around measuring war. Everyone can agree that peace involves the absence of violence, but there is some dispute about whether the violence that should analytically concern us is only literal or structural and literal. While many studies of the Asian peace care only about the absence of violent conflict, Johan Galtung popularized a concept of “structural violence” in 1969, which distinguishes between literal violence, perpetrated by individuals against others, and structural violence, which described social groups deprived of the means for realizing a life free from oppression; social groups experience physical harm too, but the perpetrator is obscured.6

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The two are causally linked because much of the literal violence in the world arises from conditions of structural violence. Galtung considered the absence of literal violence to be a negative peace, whereas the absence of structural violence constituted a higher standard that he dubbed positive peace. Although the puzzle of the Asian peace explicitly emphasizes the negative version, appreciating Galtung’s distinction is important for being able to make sense of the peace. Some of the sources I address hereafter can only explain parts of the region that experience a negative peace, while other factors associated with the Asian peace best account for positive forms of it.7 The extreme types of peace, then, differ not just in the kind of qualitatively different nonwar situations they describe, but also in how they are produced. A negative or shallow peace is described as such because it relies on strategic rationales and the wielding of fear to preserve stability. Manipulating risk for the sake of deterrence, as the peace researcher Dieter Senghaas critiqued, is an “organized peacelessness.”8 Putting violence in service of nonviolent ends perpetuates, not resolves, the prospect of violence. To rephrase this in the idiom of coercion, as Alexander George and Richard Smoke once observed, deterrence is at best a time-buying strategy whose success must be measured based on how one uses the time bought to ameliorate the conditions giving rise to the need for deterrence in the first place.9 In other words, a stability based on fear and risk is a precarious interim condition, not an end. By this reasoning, a negative peace inherently lacks durability, regardless of its longevity. A more positive and durable peace, by contrast, transcends rational, fear-based reasons for avoiding war. The most fragile kind of peace exists between enemies, precariously sustained by fear of reprisal; this is the “organized peacelessness” of deterrence. But enemies can also achieve rapprochement or détente, as China and the United States did in the 1970s. Rapprochement or détente involves mutual restraint from transgression based on a shared understanding that both sides’ strategic purposes are better suited by cooperation than conflict. It is a lukewarm kind of peace that precedes trust. The next phase of peace beyond rapprochement replaces images of the enemy with a security community or “zone

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of peace”—a space where war is simply unthinkable because of solidarity and trust.10 In the Asia-Pacific, the strongest security communities include the Australia–New Zealand relationship, the U.S. alliances (with Australia, Japan, and South Korea), and at a less developed level the member states that make up ASEAN. The prospect of war for these countries exists only outside these relationships, not within them. The point is that the Asian peace does not merely cover a diverse geographic expanse; it covers diverse ranges of peace with different depths. The appearance of a single observed outcome (no interstate wars) in this instance can also be understood as many outcomes best described as a layered understanding of the Asian peace—a region of numerous microclimates spanning from areas where deep security communities have formed and war is “impossible” to areas defined by deep rivalries and frozen conflicts between sworn adversaries, as well as hybrid zones giving rise to the trend of “hot economics, cold politics.”11 Despite the absence of war, in other words, the valence of different parts of the region varies depending on context and locale. As Stein Tonnesson has observed, “Peace in a region is the cumulative effect of a vast number of more or less conscious decisions not to resort to [armed violence].”12 Those conscious decisions are not likely to be based on the same reasoning in every individual case, or even in most cases. As I will explain, it is observably true and logical that multiple valid “causes” of the Asian peace have existed simultaneously and complementarily with one another.

Explaining the Puzzle So what best accounts for the Asian peace? Scholars who have tried to answer this question have almost always proceeded according to the positivist designs of modern political science. Even when not invoking the language of science explicitly, Asian peace research is often on the hunt for that independent variable with the greatest explanatory power.13 If done in the spirit of trying to discern the relative importance of different factors, there is much to commend the variable-based approach. It is logical, systematic, and evidence based.

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This approach errs, however, when presuming that there is a single cause of what we care about, when pitting causes against each other as if they could not be complementary, and when implying that certain explanations should be ruled out or disconfirmed simply for having less causal weight than the researcher’s preferred cause. Reductionism of this sort presents a distorted picture of reality for those who would act on research insights. The following discussion reflects the most compelling and commonly accepted factors associated with the Asian peace, capturing the reasoning, merits, and limitations of each. Only by synthesizing these together, seeing their importance as dependent on their convergences in time, do we have both an accurate and actionable basis for relating the Asian peace to statecraft.

Power Rationales A common realist view is that America has been Asia’s “pacifier”— that is, the United States has kept the peace “by engaging China in the hope that, as it becomes more prosperous and democratic, its demands and behavior will moderate, and by keeping a large number of troops deployed in Northeast Asia in an attempt to keep conflicts from starting.”14 For more than seventy years, it has been an article of faith in U.S. grand strategy that a forward-positioned military presence in Asia is a prerequisite of regional stability.15 With an eye primarily on the Soviet Union, the United States spent most of the Cold War trying to maintain a balance of power in Asia to prevent anyone from establishing hegemony in the region. In a purely geopolitical sense, balance-of-power thinking still prevailed in post–Cold War Washington. But the demise of its Soviet peer competitor gave way to “unipolar moment” thinking among U.S. policy makers, who started believing that a geopolitical balance necessitated a favorable military imbalance (military superiority). This meant that preventing a regional hegemon required the ability to sustainably project enough power into Asia that the United States could defeat any adversary if needed.16 Such power projection, in turn, has always presupposed a forward basing structure, not only to enable military operations with logistics and maintenance but also to

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ensure U.S. forces are close enough to the action that they can respond in a timely manner, thus winning the day, which ultimately induces the caution in the adversary that prevents it from aggression. This reasoning—peace through deterrence by means of a forward presence—is prominent in Washington, in the security studies literature, and among most of Asia’s developing and newly industrialized nations irrespective of whether they are allies of the United States.17 But crucial as America’s forward military presence has been for Asian stability, it is not necessarily even the most important powerbased explanation. From the moment Sino-U.S. relations opened in February 1972, the United States has used détente with China as a bulwark against regional conflict, and with some success. To the extent that experts attribute the Asian peace to Chinese restraint and its prioritization of economic development,18 it is premised on détente with the United States.19 As Singapore’s former prime minister Lee Kuan Yew once opined, whether Asia can remain free of major conflict will depend heavily on whether “China becomes part of the management of international peace and stability.”20 Détente with China was an attempt at doing just that: bringing China into the management of international stability as a way of preemptively foreclosing on the perils of a dissatisfied rising power, thereby keeping Asia out of war. And as Robert Ross notes, as much as we may think of détente as involving niceties and diplomatic acumen, it is based on an underlying balance between China as a continental great power and the United States as a maritime one.21 That rough equilibrium created both space and incentive for the mutual understanding between China and the United States that ultimately bridled China’s war proneness after 1979. It also made possible a conveniently ambiguous status quo—in lieu of facing an irreducible conflict of interests—regarding Taiwan’s fate. And it gave permission for China and the rest of the region to step back from the arms race and acute territorial competition in favor of economic development. The third way power contributes to the Asian peace centers on U.S. alliances with Australia, Japan, South Korea, and to an extent the Philippines.22 As military coalitions, they lend credibility to the deterrence of local adversaries and amplify U.S. force capacity.23 As sites of dense, intimate exchanges, alliances are capable of

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transmitting liberal political values.24 As sources of reassurance for the client state, alliances can prevent nuclear proliferation.25 And as “tools of risk management,” they allow patrons to prevent clients from waging undesirable wars.26 Allies also play host to U.S. bases, without which the United States would have no stable local presence. And without allies, no balance-of-power foundation for détente would exist; a strictly out-of-region military is not much of a balance against a locally dominant one. America’s alliances in Asia have historically lived up to this abstract potential. Throughout the Cold War, for instance, the U.S. alliances with Taiwan (before opening ties with China) and South Korea actively restrained both from waging wars of unification. The U.S. Compact of Free Association with Palau, Micronesia, and the Marshall Islands—a sphere-of-influence arrangement that gives the United States exclusive responsibility for their respective national defenses—has bought those states out of developing their own militaries and foreclosed the possibility of conflict between them or with their immediate Pacific neighbors.27 Similarly, we can question whether Japan would have sustained its constitutional pacifism if not for a U.S. alliance that has long been the core of Tokyo’s national security strategy. The United States’ extended deterrence commitments to Japan and South Korea are routinely credited with preventing either nation from pursuing nuclear weapons.28 And the United States has contained a rivalry between the two by buffering tensions and finding reasons to maintain a pragmatic, functionally cooperative relationship.29 Without a demonstrable commitment to its alliances with both countries, it is hard to see how either would have accepted America’s buffering role in their enduring antagonism. The character of the Asian peace is not entirely reducible to U.S.-related power considerations, though. For one thing, the way U.S. officials have sometimes wielded military power in Asia, playing coercion games with adversaries, as I discuss in subsequent chapters, has been partly responsible for Asia’s near misses with war. Further, power-based rationales sustain only the shallowest, most fragile forms of peace, which means that the interplay of alliances and deterrence has much stronger purchase in Northeast Asia—where rivalry dynamics are acute and crises recurring—than

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in Southeast Asia and the Pacific, where deeper forms of amity have sometimes flowered in the absence of war, calling out for an explanation other than (or at least supplementary to) deterrence or alliances. And while Sino-U.S. ties have been a powerful source of stability in Asia, perversely, détente itself was one of the motivations for China’s February 1979 invasion of Vietnam, as chapter 2 explains. Most important, détente too constitutes a negative peace largely devoid of trust, meaning even it provides at best a partial explanation for a region pocked with more positive forms of peace.

Economic Rationales In 1994, Singapore’s founding prime minister Lee Kuan Yew looked at Asia’s future and declared the widespread pessimism of the day unfounded, explaining, “The peoples and governments of East Asia have learned . . . the more you engage in conflict, the poorer and the more desperate you become.”30 Most of Asia’s developing nations believed the same. Regional stability did not just overlap with the East Asian “economic miracle”; it was inseparable from it. Dozens of unresolved territorial disputes persisted in Asia, and historical grievances abounded. But most noncommunist governments decided starting in the 1960s to focus on national economic growth, export markets, intraregional supply chains, and trade. Lee Kuan Yew’s comment captures a collective understanding of what Asian policy makers believed would happen if they did not focus on development: poverty and conflict. The economic perspective on the Asian peace takes several forms, all of which echo Lee Kuan Yew, and all of which trace the collective decisions by Asian statesmen to avoid war to the presence of high degrees of economic interdependence within the region. Interdependence exercises a restraining influence on foreign policy decisions (and hence war) by increasing the costs of conflict through linked supply chains and trade ties,31 by giving states an outlet for signaling disapproval and practicing coercion without the need to resort to military violence,32 and by empowering corporate interests that lobby for governments to pursue commerce over conflict.33 Among its proponents, the how of an economic peace is in dispute; the reason for the absence of war is not.

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But there is also a “developmental state” account of the Asian peace, which sees decision makers sidestepping conflict either because it pays or because it is part of an economically centered political identity. From this vantage point, economic interdependence works by buying states out of conflict. For ruling classes across Asia, avoiding war in favor of development often literally pays. Since the 1960s, corporatism—using state privilege to incubate particular companies and business sectors—has been a dominant feature of Asian public policy.34 This practice empowers Asia’s ruling political elites in matters of the economy, and it has created a “substantial overlap between business and government” via nepotism, patronage networks, and corporate-government partnerships, some of which are legitimate, and some of which conflate individual and national interests.35 Everything is not necessarily attributable to greed, however. Most of the governing coalitions across the Asia-Pacific are internationalist rather than statist in orientation, which presupposes trading over fighting.36 This is especially the case in Southeast Asia, where national political survival typically stakes a “claim to legitimacy on the basis of economic growth and development” while subordinating and only selectively exploiting nationalist sentiment.37 And if developmental states are motivated to pursue economic interdependence because it helps them build strong nations or effective governments, then the absence of war is really a function of “government policies rather than markets.”38 Opting out of conflict stabilizes the environment for commerce, and reliable commerce is inseparable from high-capacity national governance in a region that more or less takes for granted a global capital market system. These economic-peace arguments are well-founded but have two principal limitations—one relating to the United States and one to depths of peace. For many Asian governments, the choice of restraint has only been possible in a context where U.S. forward military presence in the region plays a stabilizing role and where the United States has actively facilitated developing economies partaking in a U.S.-centered market system. American statecraft in Asia has encouraged (and benefited from) the strategic choice that Asian governments have made to prioritize the economy.39 More

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problematic is that one of the reasons policy elites across Asia have taken a broadly favorable view of the United States since the end of the Cold War is that it benefits them to hold such beliefs—the very essence of hegemonic stability. As Natasha Hamilton-Hart explains, “State elites have a direct material stake in the growth of modern corporate enterprises and, more diffusely, a stake in the capitalist order supported by the United States.”40 We thus cannot disentangle the impact of economic interdependence per se on Asian elites from that of the United States. The economic system enabling and reinforced by Asian decisions is a system that is historically promoted by, and accrues to, the United States. As I discuss later, this hegemonic structure is changing in a manner that disempowers the United States, but to imagine away America in any economic peace is to ignore how power has actually been structured. An additional problem with economic interdependence, like other rationales, is its incompleteness. It has nothing to do with the frozen stability of the Korean Peninsula. And most studies foregrounding the economic lens on the Asian peace focus narrowly on East Asia to the exclusion of the Pacific. After all, nobody thinks that the deeply stable relationship between Australia and New Zealand is reducible to its overlapping banking system or bilateral levels of trade; that view has it exactly backward—intimate political community preceded intimate economic ties. More importantly, to the extent that Asia’s peace is economically induced, it remains a negative one. Economic interdependence in Asia has been accompanied by all manner of structural violence, including gratuitously high levels of corruption and inequality.41 And in parts of the broader region—including between the United States and its allies but also between Australia and New Zealand—the absence of war takes the form of security community rather than the crude calculation that war is best avoided because it is expensive. An economic rationale for peace is also contingent on a “shadow of the future”; that is, it contributes to peace only to the extent that officials of the state have high expectations of future cooperative trade relations.42 If those expectations become dim, economic interdependence can become a potential source of conflict. For instance, the primary rationale for countries decoupling from

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China and diversifying economic ties is to mitigate the risk of China weaponizing interdependence. China itself is ambivalent about economic interdependence because of the strategic vulnerability it represents (discussed in chapter 7). This is why some have argued that economic interdependence is better viewed as not decreasing but actually increasing “the likelihood of war as dependent states struggle to ensure continued access to vital goods.”43 There is no question that economic interdependence has been a crucial ingredient in the Asian peace. But it is not alone, nor is it equally relevant in all cases. And as I discuss in chapters 7 and 8, we have entered an era where interdependence can be more risk than asset.

Normative Rationales Starting in the 1990s, it became common for Asia commentators to talk of an intangible, nonmaterial character driving Asian states to conduct international relations peacefully. The prime ministers of Malaysia and Singapore proudly espoused “Asian values.”44 Southeast Asian scholars began theorizing an “ASEAN way” of diplomacy exported to broader Asia.45 Policy elites from the region began promoting an “Asian way” or a “Pacific Asia.”46 All of these represented cultural or normative claims to the Asian peace. In the post–Cold War ebb of geopolitical rivalry, it was easy to see the region’s stability less as a function of power and more as a consequence of how Asian governments conducted themselves in regional politics. Normative, nonmaterial factors contribute to the Asian peace in three specific ways. One is through the shared norms of the “ASEAN way.” Southeast Asian states experimented with many forms of regionalism that shared the same basic features before founding ASEAN in 1967: an aversion to great powers, fear of outside domination, and mutual respect for preserving sovereignty.47 These sensibilities eventually translated into the norms with which ASEAN is now widely associated: the substantive “noninterference” norm for national sovereignty and against intervention in the internal affairs of others, and the procedural norm of decision by consensus and consultation rather than legalism.48 These norms have not

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only tamed disputes within Southeast Asia but have sometimes ensnared outside powers compelled to “act locally” so as to engage with Southeast Asia.49 Through the creation of the ASEAN Regional Forum in 1994 and other pan-Asian institutions subsequently, the normative respect for sovereignty and consensus-building thus proliferated.50 Peace resulted because conflict is incompatible with these norms, and outsiders’ diplomacy with Southeast Asian states has required adapting to them to some degree. An alternative account of the Asian peace focuses on how Asian elites conduct diplomacy—informally, through consultation and consensus building. Asian governments rely heavily on Track 1.5 (semiofficial) and Track 2 (unofficial) diplomacy via NGOs, think tanks, and former government officials to manage disputes peacefully and forge closer economic ties. Informality and consultation allow all sides to avoid potential embarrassments, manage domestic “audience costs,” socialize participating governments into habits of cooperation, and help probe for mutually acceptable outcomes.51 If Track 1.5 and Track 2 diplomacy did not offer at least the promise of these benefits, then the abundance of informal dialogues and inter-elite networks crisscrossing the region would be puzzling indeed. Some scholars and politicians also claim that Asia’s norms are a product of cultural difference. That Asia does not look like Europe institutionally or strategically is attributable to Asian values, which are peaceable and collectivist, not individualist. Practices of decision by consensus, and consultation over negotiation, reflect a cultural preference for order over anarchy. The widespread Confucian tradition privileging hierarchy encouraged stability among Confucian nations—a “culture of restraint” responsible for a “long peace” in East Asia spanning most of China’s Qing dynasty (1644 through the Opium Wars with Britain).52 More recently, this is also why Asian states have been slow to balance against the amassing of Chinese power over the past thirty years, and why post–Cold War predictions about Asia being “ripe for rivalry” initially proved overwrought; the theories on which pessimism about Asia were based were themselves constructed from the European experience, which has limited import for Asia because of its distinctive historical conditioning.53

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The purely culturalist angle on the Asian peace is vulnerable to the critique both that a constant (culture or norms) cannot logically explain a variable (war and peace) and that its claim of “causing” peace has always been intermingled with Chinese power (and today with both American and Chinese power). Advocates have struggled to show that traditional conceptions of power, institutions, or trade were not the driving force of stability. What is more, informal diplomacy and norms of noninterference and consensus predated the Asian peace by more than a decade, during which Asia saw tremendous bloodshed, not least in Southeast Asia. Even some of the staunchest proponents of Asian states retaining control of their fates—those who have championed narratives about the importance of local norms—admit limits. Writing in 2010, for example, Simon Chesterman and Kishore Mahbubani acknowledged that the region’s “desire to avoid confrontation can prevent meaningful agreements from being reached in a reasonable time frame, and the appearance of consensus may merely mask the true politics at work.”54 Adherence to informalism and the norms of the ASEAN way has also prevented any forms of collective defense from emerging the way it did in Europe with the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (though it is not unusual for Asianists to celebrate this fact even as Western scholars highlight it as a danger).55 And decision-making by consensus, rather than rule enforcement or legal formalism, has made it hard for regional institutions to take up, let alone resolve, sensitive issues of “high politics.” Generally, conformity to Asian norms and practices is much more persuasive for explaining instances of positive peace than negative ones. The ASEAN way does not get one very far in analyzing China-Taiwan tensions or rivalry between North and South Korea, yet shared norms are a prerequisite of deep, peaceful cooperation between states.

Institutional Rationales Asian governments have invested substantially in a “complex patchwork” of multilateral institutions.56 Some span the entirety of the Asia-Pacific. Others involve only subregions, and sometimes only the “minilateralism” of three or four like-minded countries.

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But a number of institutions have formed the backbone of Asia’s regional architecture beyond just U.S. bilateral alliances: the AsiaPacific Economic Cooperation, East Asia Summit, the Asian Development Bank, ASEAN and its offshoots (ASEAN Regional Forum and ASEAN+3), the Pacific Islands Forum, and more recently a bevy of minilateral networks centered on either the United States or China. These represent only the most prominent of a much wider ranging institutionalized multilateral enmeshment of Asian international relations spanning from telecommunications and food supplies to finance and migration.57 They matter collectively beyond their individual functions because they scale up to “provide actors with governance structures that shape regional order.”58 The kind of Asia the world ends up with depends a great deal on the contours of the region’s institutional architecture. An institutionalist account of the Asian peace sometimes overlaps with the normative and economic ones, but we can draw out two discrete lines of argument that matter for statecraft—one domestic, the other international. The domestic institutional argument relates the Asian peace to democratic institutions and practices that promote good governance and societal stability. Some evidence correlates the Asian peace with higher-capacity domestic institutions of the state—especially (though not exclusively) in states that became democracies.59 Democratic peace theory, what Jack Levy famously called “the closest thing we have to an empirical law in the study of international relations,”60 expects that international politics will become more peaceful as democracy spreads because democracies do not go to war with each other. And transparent domestic institutions that check arbitrary power constitute one of the three pillars of the democratic peace (the others being liberal markets and pacifistic values).61 Multilateral institutions also serve rational conflict-suppressing purposes: facilitating issue linkages that improve cooperation, providing a venue that elicits information about the intentions of others, reducing the transaction costs of cooperation, and generating a “shadow of the future” by promoting expectations of future cooperation.62 As much as ASEAN members cultivate a self-image as a community with a shared identity, for many, ASEAN’s strategic value to members and to the region is its institutional functionality,

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which channels members’ interactions with outside powers in a manner that inhibits great-power attempts at domination.63 The Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) has served a similar purpose in Oceania, diluting the ability of outsiders to control or exploit members.64 These institutions have thus not only discouraged conflict by encouraging economic cooperation among participants, but also been instruments for small states to preemptively rebuff the aggrandizing ambitions of external actors.65 Moreover, considerable evidence indicates that the economically induced peace actually prevails because of regional institutions.66 Most of Asia’s multilateral institutions regulate cross-border trade and investment by actively lowering political barriers and steering state-backed firms toward “win-win” arrangements. It is doubtful that high levels of intraregional economic integration would have proceeded without active facilitation by the ADB, EAS, and the like creating an encouraging environment. Some studies have even found that APEC and other regional organizations have been more responsible for forging economic interdependencies than trade agreements per se, suggesting the importance of institutions to the prevailing economic order.67 For all its virtues, though, the institutionalist perspective has some severe drawbacks. Other than alliances, ASEAN was the region’s primary institution through most of the post-Vietnam years of the Cold War, making institutionalism an argument whose salience was far weaker in the twentieth century than today. A second limitation of an “institutionalist peace” take is the absence of some of the rational formalism associated with multilateralism. Asia’s anticolonial legacy and the pride of place that national governments assign to the sovereignty principle have meant that governments have been unwilling to endow their institutions with the kind of integrative, rule-making, and ruleenforcement capacity of the European experience. This has paralyzed Asian regionalism’s ability to address conflicts within states, such as the genocide turned civil war in Myanmar. Yet an institution’s ability to make and enforce rules helps it to overcome collective action problems; it is arguably the most important way that institutions promote cooperation over conflict. Asia has been living through an experiment (with unclear results) in whether institutions can serve pacifying ends without having the means of formal authority.

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Attempts to link democratic institutions to the Asian peace are also of limited value. For one thing, most Asian governments are not democracies, which means the conditions needed for a democratic peace simply do not apply to large swaths of the region. Even where democracy exists in Asia, the democratic peace is not always compelling. While it may offer the best explanation for the sense of community shared by Australia and New Zealand, it fares far worse in explaining the rivalry between Japan and South Korea—a relationship where democratic processes have intersected with nationalism and historical memory traumas to produce recurring geopolitical tensions.68 Moreover, some of the findings that link democracy and the absence of war do so only in the presence of economic interdependence, which actively constrained the kinds of bellicose decisions that might have led to conflict.69 We cannot practically separate an institutionalist rationale for the Asian peace from other explanations. This recalls one of the earliest acknowledgments in institutionalist theorizing after the Cold War: that institutions do not exercise independent effects on international relations but rather do so through combinations of other factors and actors.70

A Layered Peace Vijay Gokhale, former foreign secretary of India, acknowledged in June 2020 that “American military presence has afforded countries the opportunity to pursue economic prosperity without substantial increases in their own defence expenditures or having to look over their shoulders. No group of nations has benefitted more from the U.S. presence than ASEAN.”71 This is a remarkable acknowledgment to come from India, a non-U.S. ally that does not host U.S. troops and for decades marketed itself as assiduously nonaligned or multialigned. Gokhale’s point was that America’s forward presence in Asia—which implicates both U.S. alliances and U.S. military power—is a necessary prior condition defining an environment where deeper forms of peace have sometimes been able to take hold. When it comes to statecraft and the world of decision-making under conditions of uncertainty, we have little to gain from conceptually or methodologically disaggregating what has only exercised sway over

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regional stability together: U.S.-centered power rationales, economic rationales, institutional rationales, and localized normative rationales. For the duration of the Asian peace, these have been mutually reinforcing, with some taking on a more prominent role than others depending on the microclimate or time period. In the final analysis, then, there is a certain absurdity in searching for a single variable to account for so many varieties of “peace” over such a large geographic expanse and over such a long time period. The influential realist Hans Morgenthau once derided “the method of the single cause” that rightly or wrongly came to dominate modern political science.72 With regard to the Asian peace specifically, Morgenthau is demonstrably correct.

The Risk-Wager Balance From the various rationales I have discussed—power based, economic, normative, and institutional—we can disaggregate six distinct indicators associating statecraft with the Asian peace.73 • U.S. forward military presence • U.S. alliances • Great-power détente • Economic interdependence • Regionalism • Democracy and good governance These factors are central to the story of Asia’s remarkable stability. Having confidence in such a claim makes it possible to analyze the history of U.S. statecraft (and the thinking behind it) in relation to them. And from a practitioner’s perspective, the theoretical and empirical robustness demonstrating that these are the best causes of peace gives us a reasonable expectation that yoking policy to them will keep the region stable. That is, our best bet for upholding the Asian peace is to put statecraft in service of the factors we have the strongest basis for believing are most responsible for it. As Kenneth Waltz quipped, states “are free to do any fool thing they care to, but they are likely to be rewarded for behavior that is responsive to structural pressures and punished for behavior

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that is not.”74 Policy makers can choose to believe the Asian peace is the product of their preferred cause to the exclusion of others, but in so doing, they hazard tremendous risk, flouting a substantial body of evidence and logic auguring for no less than the six sources of regional stability just outlined. Policy makers tend to eschew formal probabilistic reasoning in decision-making.75 We should hope so. Probability estimates can be useful inputs to decision processes, but the world of foreign policy invokes a particular kind of uncertainty, one whose very character is either sharply contested or poorly defined, and whose range of outcomes is often unknowable.76 Forced to make decisions under conditions of radical uncertainty, policy makers must constantly grapple not with probabilities per se but rather with risk. The concept of risk in the field of economics usually refers to the volatility of outcomes, but here it is the possibility of “failure to fulfil the central elements of a reference narrative”—an undesirable occurrence in relation to a point of comparison or equilibrium.77 For this book, the indicators associated with the Asian peace serve as reference points for evaluating risk. The risk we are concerned with entails unawareness of, or a willingness to undermine, reject, or ignore, a specific factor that contributed to the Asian peace as a historical phenomenon. Put simply, failing to bolster the known sources of the Asian peace is accepting prospects of its demise whether you acknowledge it or not. Accepting risk can be justifiable or necessary, but making that determination requires us to answer in turn whether our choices are grounded in realistic assessments of the situation or sound reasoning connecting choices to expected outcomes. A layered understanding of the Asian peace is a realistic assessment of the situation and thus the baseline for specifying what risks the United States was taking in each presidency, as well as how aware each presidency was about taking those risks. In contrast with risk, a “wager” concerns the reasoning associated with specific policy issues and actions of government to which you allocate attention—that is, the expected effect resulting from prioritizing and allocating attention or resources to specific choices in policy. Decision makers focus on what they believe is important, and their wagers are reflected in the choices they make—a causal expectation, often implicit, in a decision.

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These two concepts are most insightful together. The actions or decisions required to support a particular line of reasoning (the wagers) may put the referent narrative in greater or lesser jeopardy (risks). And what a policy maker believes is necessary to realize the goals of the state (wagers) tells us (by omission if not explicitly) what the policy maker believes is superfluous to those goals (risks accepted). In this sense, wagers and risks are conceptually complementary, and we should seek to discover both the actual risks and wagers involved in the decisions of statecraft and the perceived balance of risks and wagers that policy makers think they are making. Sound strategy will tend to exhibit proportionality between the risks required and the causal expectation(s) of the wager.78 The point of thinking like this—and of structuring analysis of U.S. thinking and decision-making in relation to the Asian peace puzzle—is to read history in a way that surfaces the relevant causal beliefs located in the decisions and practices of U.S. policy in Asia. Such an exercise makes it possible to subject the robustness of policy maker reasoning to scrutiny. More importantly, the gap between perceived and actual risk-taking often represents strategic blind spots, which are undesirable. As the philosopher of science Imre Lakatos observed, albeit in a different context, “It is perfectly rational to play a risky game: what is irrational is to deceive oneself about the risk.”79 Ultimately, grasping the relative distribution of wagers versus risks in statecraft matters because otherwise we have no reliable way to rigorously distinguish good strategy from bad, or to claim that U.S. actions bolstered versus undermined the Asian peace.80 The checkered history presented in the pages to come is structured around this premise that each administration had its own particular configuration of risks and wagers toward Asia. How did each presidential administration think about stability in Asia and America’s role in it? To what extent did U.S. decisions—manifested through rhetoric and practice—support, undermine, or prove to be askew of a layered understanding of the Asian peace? How selfaware was each administration about the risks it was taking, and why did it choose to make particular wagers? With these guiding questions, the case histories to follow attempt to distinguish continuities and changes in the character of risk propensities across time

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and partisanship. They also aim to assess gaps and congruities between how U.S. officials allocated their time, attention, and resources (all of which reflect wagers) relative to the factors responsible for the Asian peace. When using the sources of the Asian peace as a basis for discerning risks and wagers, it will be particularly important to distinguish when U.S. officials incidentally bolstered some aspect of it and when they did so knowingly. The result of parsing history in this way is an interpretation of how each administration rationalized, ignored, undermined, or bolstered the highly textured Asian peace. It is in this way that we are able to see the paradox of America as the aloof hegemon, vital bulwark, and imperious superpower that it has been.

chapter two

Founding the Asian Peace

B

small beginnings.1 The founding moment for the Asian peace concerns the two great powers that most shaped subsequent regional dynamics: the United States and China. President Richard Nixon and Chairman Mao Tse-tung were not men writing or dictating history. They were not uniquely imaginative. And it is patently untrue that only Nixon could have gone to China; he was actually in something of a race to “open China” before his political opponents could beat him to it. Nixon and Mao were simply men exploiting an opportunity before them that did not exist in the decades prior. Theirs was a moment born of several converging historical processes: a shifting balance of power, an anti-China image in Washington that was softening, and an evolving domestic politics in both nations that was starting to incentivize engaging the enemy. The fateful decision by Nixon and Mao to meet for an hour and agree to issuing a tepid joint statement on February 28, 1972 (dubbed the “Shanghai Communiqué”) catalyzed a pivot away from rivalry, giving rise to something grander than the objects of Chinese and U.S. ambitions at the time.2 The two great powers had appeared to be star-crossed rivals ever since 1949, when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) seized control of mainland China and forced Chiang Kai-shek’s nationalist IG OUTCOMES OFTEN HAVE

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forces to flee to what is now Taiwan. The United States was deeply anticommunist, and no president more so than Nixon, whom Adlai Stevenson once described as “McCarthyism in a white collar.”3 China under Chairman Mao had been committed to revolution—at home and abroad—and identified an imperialist United States as chief enemy of the international proletariat that China was trying to promote.4 As mutual antagonists, both sides’ forces directly clashed in a protracted, bloody war on the Korean Peninsula from 1950 to 1953. That the Korean War ended with an armistice rather than a peace treaty owed mostly to China’s massive “people’s war” intervention on behalf of an otherwise routed North Korean military. Both countries also flirted with war in crises over Taiwan, in 1954–55 and again in 1958.5 In 1963, President John F. Kennedy even contemplated bombing China to prevent it from acquiring nuclear weapons.6 And as U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War deepened, so too did Sino-U.S. proxy war as each materially backed opposing sides in a divided Vietnam. Up to the early 1970s, moreover, the CCP maintained ties to leftist and antiwar groups in the United States, which not only aimed for transnational anti-imperial solidarity but also sought to exploit political fissures within U.S. society.7 In popular narratives about Sino-U.S. rivalry, it is often lost that the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and later the Nixon administration, saw China’s connections to the political Left in the United States as a priority national security threat.8 By the 1960s, however, it was becoming increasingly evident that the United States and China saw each other as secondary threats compared to the looming concerns they shared about the Soviet Union. During both the John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson administrations, some officials unsuccessfully challenged the prevailing Washington narrative that China was a “red menace” in the mold of (or even worse than) the Soviet Union.9 But U.S. China policy remained frozen, along with the image of China as an implacably dangerous foe, largely because the Democrats— who controlled the White House for most of the decade—were constantly put on the political defensive with charges of being weak on communism. Republicans even accused Secretary of State Dean Acheson, a foreign policy hawk who remained a Democratic

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Party influencer in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, of being a communist.10 As the presidency transitioned from Johnson to Nixon, though, parts of the Democratic Party were already mainstreaming the idea of shaking up China policy with talk of engagement, among other things.11 Nixon’s Democratic opponent for the presidency in 1968, Hubert Humphrey, even suggested allowing U.S. trade with China and people-to-people contact.12 Congressional Democrats, moreover, had reached out directly to Chinese leadership to “come to China to settle Vietnam.”13 Nixon entered the presidency in 1969 ready to wager on what he saw as multiple potential benefits of stepping back from rivalry with China. The United States was in a relatively deteriorating military position in 1969, not just in Asia but against the Soviet Union. When the Soviets and Chinese clashed along their border that year, Nixon effectively had four choices: (1) passively let SinoSoviet competition play out on its own, come what may; (2) work with the Soviets to balance against China; (3) leverage the Soviet Union and China against each other through triangular diplomacy; and (4) work with China to balance against the Soviet Union.14 As Evelyn Goh stresses, balancing against the Soviet Union (option 4) was a talking point the United States used to rationalize détente with China,15 but it is far more accurate to say that Nixon pursued simultaneous improvement of relations with the Soviets and Chinese (option 3).16 Détente with China did involve allying with the weaker of the two rivals, as one would do in balance-of-power politics. But the tacit alliance (a phrase Kissinger used) with China was not initially made to oppose the Soviet Union so much as to encourage both China and the Soviet Union to make sure their individual relationship with the United States was better than America’s relationship with the other. For China’s part, Mao had lived the life of a committed revolutionary, and his leadership forced China down that path of struggle, not only internally with the disastrous Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution, but by supporting foreign revolutionary movements as well.17 But two factors drew Mao away from his revolutionary impulse. One was the Sino-Soviet split and Mao’s view that the Soviet Union had become an imperialist threat.

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China and the Soviet Union were in a contest for leadership of the communist world and therefore rivals of a kind, but Mao also rejected (at least initially) Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev’s espousal of “peaceful co-existence” with the West in 1956.18 This growing rivalry culminated in a brief border conflict in March 1969 and internal preparations in China to fight a war against the Soviets.19 After the border clash, and recognizing that China had fallen into a position of possibly having to fight on two fronts— against the Americans and the Soviets—Mao contemplated tacking in a different direction and ordered a study of “possible Soviet and/ or U.S. moves against China.”20 The second factor nudging Mao toward pragmatism was the mixed results of his foreign policy decisions. When attempts to export revolution yielded little success, he embraced a “more reconciliatory approach” with the United States, but in an inconsistent, desultory manner.21 From the time of the 1969 border conflict through his death in 1976, Mao showed himself to be neither entirely revolutionary nor reformist. Mao never fully committed to rapprochement with the United States, and had he remained alive, it is conceivable that the United States would again eventually have become China’s foremost enemy. Still, Mao’s willingness to embrace the United States, however haltingly, converged with Nixon’s interest in triangular diplomacy, which opened up space for Nixon to pursue arms control with the Soviet Union while deflating Chinese revolutionary activities in Asia and Africa. Nixon had publicly committed to finding a way out of Vietnam, but the vague caveat of doing so with “honor” made it seemingly impossible. Fear of “losing” Vietnam to the communists by withdrawing troops was as potent a fear as the “domino theory”—that communism would spread across Southeast Asia after Vietnam fell. For China, unifying with Taiwan, ideally while avoiding a war with the United States, was the foreign policy ambition that transcended balance-of-power and global revolutionary concerns. In the sideline confabs for the Nixon-Mao meeting, Zhou Enlai secured private commitments from Nixon and Kissinger that amounted to a neartotal selling out of Taiwan. Kissinger went so far as to concede to Zhou in their first meeting, “No two Chinas; no one China, one Taiwan; no independent Taiwan.”22 The historian Nancy Bernkopf

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Tucker concluded that “Nixon and Kissinger rarely reflected on Taiwan,” and “[on Taiwan] their promises were bigger, their compromises more thoroughgoing, and their concessions more fundamental” than were necessary to suspend rivalry with Beijing.23 In his clamor to open relations with Beijing, Nixon orchestrated giving Taiwan’s seat on the UN Security Council to the PRC, initiated a gradual drawdown of U.S. troops in Taiwan, cut development aid to Taiwan, and in practice hollowed out the Mutual Defense Treaty with Taiwan that by then existed in name only.24 Sino-U.S. détente promised still more advantages. In the early talks leading up to the Nixon-Mao meeting, Chinese counterparts repeatedly made clear that they wished for the United States to withdraw forces from Asia, not just Taiwan. And Nixon explicitly saw détente as a way of dousing the revolutionary fervor of Mao’s foreign policy across the developing world. What is more, looking ahead to reelection, Nixon wanted to outflank some in the Democratic Party who were already questioning the logic of confrontation and pressing for engagement with China.25 This domestic calculation may have been Nixon’s overriding interest in changing the valence of relations with China. During the planning meetings preceding the Nixon-Mao engagement, for instance, Kissinger implored his Chinese counterparts to “keep their distance from American left groups.”26 And Nixon’s gambit immediately succeeded in not only avoiding most left-wing criticism but also eliciting praise from key Democrats in Congress. Even the anticommunist hawk Henry “Scoop” Jackson, a Democrat, saw the merits of Nixon’s opening with China, becoming one of its biggest proponents as time passed.27 Sino-U.S. détente, then, was not all attributable to a single premise for either side. It was a single wager with the promise of multiple payoffs, some strategic and abstract (balance of power), others parochial and political (outflanking Democrats in Washington). Some of these wagers worked out; Democrats had little choice but to support Nixon’s gambit, triangular diplomacy made it easier to work with the Soviets, and China reined in its support for revolutions abroad. Some did not; China, for example, did almost nothing to help the United States disentangle from Vietnam, and the United States did not withdraw troops from anywhere in Asia

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except Taiwan as a consequence of détente. Crucially, the otherwise thin Shanghai Communiqué to which Nixon and Mao agreed in 1972 not only legitimized both sides developing a working relationship but also affirmed that neither side would dominate Asia— “neither should seek hegemony in the Asia-Pacific region and each is opposed to efforts by any other country or group of countries to establish such hegemony.”28 Both sides effectively made it a balance-of-power pact.

Repurposing and Conditioning Sino-U.S. Détente It did not take long before U.S. officials steered rapprochement away from triangular diplomacy and toward an overt balancing coalition to counter the Soviet Union. As early as 1973, Michael Pillsbury—a China specialist at the U.S. Air Force–funded RAND Corporation— wrote a paper making the case for a military-to-military relationship with China that was viewed favorably by Net Assessment founder Andrew Marshall and Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger.29 Pillsbury’s reasoning, laid out in an article published two years later, was that it would reward “pragmatic” Chinese policies and insulate U.S. détente from dissenters in the Chinese system, aid in “deterring a Soviet attack or further Soviet military pressure on China,” and divert Soviet military capability deployments “to military districts on the Chinese border . . . tying down a greater percentage” of Soviet forces.30 This rationale for a tacit alliance with China—using it against the Soviet Union—was far easier for U.S. policy makers and legislators to rally around than the wager of dual détente. As such, while the ink on the Shanghai Communiqué was still drying, the United States began an active intelligence-sharing relationship with China that segued into military-to-military ties.31 But the path to diplomatic normalization, which cemented the China détente wager, was not linear. After Nixon resigned from office in 1974, Kissinger stayed on as secretary of state to President Gerald Ford, continuing to promote the rapprochement with China that had begun under Nixon, though Kissinger’s influence waned under Ford, and other obstacles to normalization abounded. Ford himself was interested in following through, but he lacked a

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political mandate at home, and many Republicans abhorred cozying up to Beijing as much as they reviled the idea of abandoning Taiwan. Ronald Reagan, Ford’s 1976 presidential primary competitor, and Barry Goldwater, the conservative firebrand who had taken on Nixon for the Republican presidential nomination, both had close ties to the pro-Taiwan “China lobby” and pressured Ford from his right flank not only to avoid abandoning Taiwan but to step up measures in Taiwan’s defense.32 Goldwater even threatened to withhold his endorsement of Ford for the Republican presidential nomination in 1976 if the rumors about abandoning Taiwan after reelection were true.33 George H. W. Bush, who at the time was head of the U.S. Liaison Office in Beijing, conveyed the same warning, albeit less coercively. In a personal memo to Ford dated May 23, 1975, Bush attested to the political headwinds of the Taiwan issue: “From a purely political standpoint . . . Answers to the Taiwan question that may have been possible before the collapse in Cambodia and Viet Nam may no longer be any answers at all,” cautioning that Taiwan could become “a major weapon for your opponents be they Republican or Democrat.”34 Ford simply could not normalize ties with China if doing so required further isolating Taiwan. Mao too became an impediment to normalization. In his final years of ill health (1975–76), Mao had to contend with those on his left flank—including the “Gang of Four”35—who opposed cooperation with the American empire.36 Despite Nixon’s significant concessions on Taiwan, by the time Ford took over, the United States had not gone nearly as far toward abandoning Taiwan as Beijing wished.37 As a favor to the United States, China may have prevented a second Korean War in 1975 by rebuffing Kim Il Sung’s entreaties “to capitalize on the American collapse in Saigon.”38 And the shortterm success of Nixon’s triangular diplomacy had cooled SinoSoviet tensions enough to alleviate any sense of urgency Mao may previously have felt about embracing the United States.39 China thus continued to insist that normalization be predicated on its original three conditions relating to Taiwan: “(1) terminate diplomatic relations with the Republic of China on Taiwan, (2) abrogate the United States–Taiwan defense treaty of 1954, and (3) withdraw all American forces from Taiwan.”40 This Ford could not do.

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Locking in Détente with Normalization President Jimmy Carter came to office in 1977 looking to recover the momentum in Sino-U.S. relations lost during Gerald Ford’s presidency. Carter’s administration was explicit in its thinking about why: “A genuinely cooperative relationship between Washington and Beijing would greatly enhance the stability of the Far East and . . . it would be to U.S. advantage in the global competition with the Soviet Union.”41 While Carter’s staff undertook a campaign of balancing against the Soviets that went well beyond Nixon and Ford, Carter and his closest advisers also saw Sino-U.S. détente as useful leverage in Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT II) with the Soviets. In effect, Carter tried to simultaneously pursue options 3 and 4 that faced Nixon in 1969: using China to balance against the Soviets and encouraging a three-way détente. In the context of a different set of political incentives than faced either Nixon or Ford, the U.S. and Chinese negotiating positions were not irreducibly antagonistic. The breakthrough came when Carter’s national security adviser, Zbigniew Brzezinski, flew to China on May 20, 1978. Carter wrote Brzezinski an instructional letter just ahead of his departure, outlining what Brzezinski should tell the Chinese during the trip. The letter made several key points: The peace of the Far East, indeed of the world, depends on continued U.S. military presence in the Pacific area. . . . You should stress that we see our relations with China as a central facet of the U.S. global policy. . . . [We share] common opposition to global or regional hegemony by any single power. . . . Your basic goal should be to convey to the Chinese our determination to seek peace with the Soviets, to compete effectively with the Soviets, to deter the Soviet military challenge, and to protect our interests and those of our friends and allies.42 By this time, Deng Xiaoping, who was transitioning into the role of chairman from Hua Guofeng, was intent on reform. It became possible for Deng to temper China, especially in the foreign

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policy realm, because both Mao and Zhou Enlai died in 1976, and the Cultural Revolution was declared over in the wake of their deaths. Biographers of Deng’s life present him as an early adopter of the idea that China desperately needed reform,43 a goal that was aided by Zhou Enlai’s pronouncement of the “four modernizations” (agriculture, industry, defense, and science and technology) during a speech at the National People’s Congress in January 1975. While Deng was uniquely responsible for China’s path to reform and embrace of capitalism, the broad acceptance among elites of the four modernizations indirectly facilitated its legitimacy. It was a postrevolutionary moment for China and for Deng. In this context, Deng and Brzezinski were able to reach an understanding. Brzezinski relayed that the United States would accept China’s three core conditions on Taiwan (end diplomatic relations with Taiwan, end the Mutual Defense Treaty, and withdraw forces). But to do so, the United States would have conditions of its own: the Taiwan issue should be resolved peacefully; the United States would maintain nondiplomatic ties to Taiwan; and U.S. arms sales to Taiwan must continue.44 Under Mao or Hua, China would not have accepted these caveats, but Deng saw the United States as a valuable resource in the quest for reform, so he agreed.45 Adding incentive for normalization, Beijing had again grown worried about its encirclement by the Soviet Union, spurred in November 1978 by the Soviet Union establishing an alliance with Vietnam, which had begun to assert itself as a hegemon in Southeast Asia. It is unclear how much of Deng’s normalization pragmatism was also prompted by angst about the Soviet-Vietnamese alliance, but in the following month, the United States and China announced the agreed-on points in a joint communiqué normalizing diplomatic relations as of January 1, 1979. Building on the cooperation proposed under Ford, the Carter administration oversaw a dramatic expansion of ties with China, the consequence of which was to entrench great-power détente. By opening up wide-ranging exchanges and dialogues with China at various levels, Carter routinized high-technology and weapons transfers, scientific exchanges, cultural exchanges, and, for a time, intelligence sharing. Initially, while the United States had not yet formally walked away from the Mutual Defense Treaty with

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Taiwan (that would come on January 1, 1980), the United States was unable to conduct military sales to China, so Brzezinski “asked [the Chinese] for a list of what they want[ed]. The Chinese, in response to the U.S. initiative . . . provided a list of 47 items. Zbig then went through Western Europe with the list, saying, ‘We can’t sell right now, but you do it.’ ”46 That changed during the final months of the Carter administration, in September 1980. William Perry, who served as Carter’s undersecretary of defense for research and engineering—the Pentagon’s chief technology officer— was tasked with helping China modernize its military, facilitating substantial technology transfers that would mostly occur under the Reagan administration.47 China’s rise, militarily and economically, was officially sponsored by U.S. policy. The Carter presidency’s implicit theory of Asian security was to fix an imbalance of power with the Soviet Union while simultaneously structuring good relations with Asia’s two strongest nations— China and Japan. The formula was neither cost nor risk free but basically worked. Carter secured détente with China, did nothing to betray or abandon Japan, and actively intervened to normalize relations between China and Japan, which was a boon for stability in Northeast Asia. And at the Pentagon, William Perry successfully led a charge to offset Soviet military gains with what came to be known as precision-guided weapons; the combination of computing power with Global Positioning System (GPS) technology, sensor networks, and rockets would not only prevent the military balance with the Soviet Union tilting away from the United States, but also pave the way for the “unipolar moment” of American military superiority after the Cold War. Yet regional institutions still did not feature in U.S. national security thinking under Carter, and there was no expectation that Sino-U.S. détente necessitated or would lead to economic interdependence, even though Carter laid the groundwork for massive trade ties with China post-normalization. Notwithstanding the importance of U.S. relations with Japan, Carter spared little thought for the U.S. alliance system in Asia as a whole and took active steps to dismantle the U.S. alliance with South Korea (by withdrawing troops), though his plans were thwarted by Pentagon scheming and interest group politics on Capitol Hill.48 While Carter is

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known for advocating human rights and democracy, such policies were only very selectively pursued. The administration repeatedly refused to criticize China’s human rights violations the way it did others like South Korea and the Philippines.49 And in the name of supporting China, Carter found himself backing the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia—a Chinese proxy state—who at the time were responsible for prosecuting one of the worst genocides in history.50

A Modus Vivendi for Regional Stability, Eventually There was one strange and hardly trivial subplot in the greatpower détente that Nixon initiated and Carter locked in: China’s war against Vietnam. The Asian peace did not begin until 1979 because, on February 17 that year, China launched a massive 250,000-man invasion of Vietnam. China had supported Ho Chi Minh’s struggle in Vietnam for decades, including against the United States. But while Beijing was busy constructing rapprochement with Washington throughout the 1970s, Vietnam was gradually filling a power vacuum in Southeast Asia, which accelerated after the United States evacuated Saigon in 1975. In November 1978, Vietnam signed a treaty of friendship and cooperation with the Soviet Union, which was widely understood as making Vietnam a Soviet proxy.51 It was not the first time a small revisionist state with great-power backing had gone on the offensive. Less than a month after the Soviet-Vietnamese axis formed, Vietnam launched a punitive campaign against Cambodia on December 25, 1978. But in Cambodia, the genocidal Khmer Rouge ruled with China’s patronage, meaning that Vietnam was attacking a Chinese client. This raised the prospect of both a Vietnamese sphere of influence on China’s border and a significant advancement in the Soviet Union’s encirclement of China. So in late January 1979, less than three weeks after Deng Xiaoping visited Washington to consecrate Sino-U.S. normalization, China launched a retaliatory invasion of Vietnam. It would be the final new conflict before more than a generation of stability in the region. The United States was not a party to the Sino-Vietnamese War, but U.S. statecraft inadvertently abetted it. Some Democrats in Congress and within the Carter administration considered

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normalizing relations with Vietnam in 1978, and the State Department was urging Carter to do so.52 Mending fences with Vietnam could have preempted its alliance with the Soviet Union and potentially muted Vietnam’s decision to invade Cambodia that December. But as Brzezinski advised Carter, “You need to choose: Vietnam or China, and China is incomparably more important to us.”53 U.S. officials also responded to being informed about China’s plans by effectively giving it the green light to invade. Then, when Deng visited Washington at the end of January 1979, he asked for an unscheduled pull-aside with Carter to discuss Vietnam. Seeking “moral support” but not material support, Deng explained, “We consider it necessary to put a restraint on the wild ambitions of the Vietnamese and to give them an appropriate limited lesson.”54 Carter highlighted the risks of escalation that could result, but he did not pressure Deng and made clear enough that China’s relationship with the United States would not suffer if it went ahead with a military campaign.55 Deng walked away all the more convinced that he had tacit U.S. support for a Vietnam invasion because, according to Deng himself, while Carter made an obligatory rhetorical attempt to urge restraint, some American officials Deng met during his trip actually shared intelligence with the Chinese delegation “in order to encourage a Chinese attack.”56 There is a third, less direct way that the United States was implicated in China’s decision to invade Vietnam: as a condition of possibility opened up by Sino-U.S. détente itself. Recent archival research shows that Deng had mixed motives for invading Vietnam.57 It was true that he wanted to avoid Soviet encirclement and chasten Hanoi. It was also true that the PLA was behind the times technologically and in need of showing their worth.58 And it was similarly true that Deng saw a short war with Vietnam as benefiting his push for national cohesion and his championing of the “four modernizations.”59 But China also sought to signal to Washington that it “was a reliable and responsible country with strategic value, worthy of being an ally in their struggle against Soviet hegemonic expansion.”60 Fearlessly taking on Vietnam (a recent enemy of the United States) despite the risk of Soviet intervention would solidify the Sino-U.S. détente that was essential to Deng’s plans for “reform and opening-up” of China to the world in the decades to

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follow. The United States might have made choices to prevent Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia or at least back Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia as a means of displacing a genocidal regime there. But it instead bet on China as the best means to regional stability, even at the price of a new war in Southeast Asia. The mutual decision between China and the United States to seek cooperative coexistence was the crucial founding moment for the Asian peace that followed. The aims of détente varied over time, and the process of locking in a cooperative relationship faced repeated setbacks and political constraints, but the great powers found a way. For Nixon, Ford, and Carter, countering the threat from the Soviet Union helped propel rapprochement, albeit in different ways. The détente that followed restrained Chinese military adventurism after 1972 and moderated China’s approach to Taiwan starting in 1979. And it nudged Japan and China—highly antagonistic historical and geopolitical rivals—to normalize relations in 1978. Détente also gave rise to foreign policy ideas in China centering on peaceful development.61 It incidentally accelerated and deepened economic interdependence, both within the region and between the great powers. And it inhibited the Soviet Union from making territorial or political gains in Asia for the remainder of the Cold War. Big outcomes sometimes have small beginnings. For all the problems and frictions that would later arise in Sino-U.S. relations, the détente wager of February 28, 1972, underwrote or made a constructive contribution to nearly all the factors responsible for the Asian peace.

chapter three

Conservative Domination of Asia

I

of the Cold War, Asia overwhelmingly typified a minimalist “negative peace”: the absence of war not out of a movement toward deep cooperation and solidarity but rather out of a tendency to keep leaders in power and avoid the destructive costs of conflict. By this time, the East Asian “miracle” economies of Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia had all emerged as developed or newly industrialized countries (NICs), with China following not far behind. These governments, as well as Australia and New Zealand, were collectively prioritizing economic development, adopting more market-friendly policies to attract foreign capital as well as constructing institutional arrangements and informal networks to promote economic interdependence.1 Smaller states pursued this developmentalist wager on the presumption that the United States, and the global North more broadly, would offer favorable terms of trade and investment to the Third World.2 Their expectations were reasonable, given the U.S. desire to support anticommunist governments, a sense of responsibility for the West’s colonial legacy in Asia, and the prevalence of modernization theory in vogue among not only political scientists but also the consultants who traveled around the world promoting market-friendly development solutions. As modern political economy was shifting, N THE FINAL DECADE

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geopolitical tensions did not entirely abate. Several recently aggressive states were still operating outside any regional architecture that might have inhibited their conduct. Vietnam would continue to occupy Cambodia for the remainder of the Cold War. And the fear of Soviet designs still lingered, primarily in Japan and China. But the region’s center of gravity—this collection of NICs—promoted stability through economic growth. All deferred resolution of outstanding territorial disputes to another day. In comparison to recent decades, Asia had become an unmistakably low-threat environment . . . and yet.

A Favorable Imbalance of Military Power President Ronald Reagan wanted to induce the Soviets to adopt a more restrained foreign policy,3 and he did this by accepting “high costs and risks in return for the potential of quick success.”4 Reagan’s general preference, as he put it, was for “strength and realism. I wanted peace through strength, not peace through a piece of paper.”5 It was the master narrative giving direction to his administration, most prominently its wager on military superiority, both in relation to and beyond the Asian peace. How the United States made this wager involved substantial risks, and the preservation of Asian stability was not driving it. To the contrary, acquiring and demonstrating the ability to “fight and win in areas of highest Soviet capability” risked exacerbating security dilemmas and arms-racing dynamics in Asia that could have led to conflict.6 Nineteen eighty-three in particular was a year of tremendous danger that threatened not just regional but global stability, and the situation directly resulted from the more muscular pursuit of military superiority. The prevailing belief among Reagan policy officials was reducible to the now-overused slogan “peace through strength.” For Asia, it had the consequence of enlarging and reinvigorating (through more deployments and exercises) U.S. force posture in the region as the best way to preserve its stability, though it must be stressed that avoiding an Asian war was a lesser priority than making gains against the Soviets. Fareed Zakaria described military strategy under Reagan as an attempt to optimize for what would normally be two competing strategic directions. In the Cold War, containment strategies were

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either symmetrical (requiring high cost but being low risk) or asymmetrical (low cost but courting high risks). Framed in this way, symmetrical containment, such as intervention in the Korean War, was reactive and bloody but effective. Asymmetrical containment, such as Kennedy’s flexible response doctrine, was seen as cheaper but had a higher margin of error and risked being too clever to actually contain Soviet expansion. Reagan’s massive military buildup took the good and the bad of both approaches: all the risk of a proactive doctrine with all the cost of a reactive one.7 This took the form of two big, domain-specific offensive doctrines. The U.S. Army, in an attempt to offset the numerical superiority of Soviet forces in Europe, developed the concept of AirLand Battle in partnership with the air force. It conceived of striking rear-area targets deep in the Soviet bloc to give U.S. and NATO forces a tactical advantage on the front line of battle. The navy’s maritime strategy, by contrast, conceived of putting forward pressure on the Soviets everywhere in day-to-day operations and then attacking wherever they were weakest if conflict arose. The logic of the maritime strategy relied on the threat of horizontal escalation: expanding a fight to areas beyond the battlefield, striking at Soviet interests and client states anywhere in the world they might be vulnerable. Sitting atop both strategies, Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger reasoned to Congress, “Even if the enemy attacked at only one place, we might choose not to restrict ourselves to meeting aggression on its own immediate front. . . . The risk of our counteroffensive against his vulnerable points strengthens deterrence.”8 To effectively threaten this strategy, U.S. forces in Asia began conducting military exercises and operations in more deliberately provocative ways, for example, by forward positioning aircraft carriers to launch Soviet counterforce strikes against nuclear targets in Soviet territory, maneuvering aircraft quickly in and out of Soviet radar range, and increasing the tempo of joint blockade, air strike raid, and antisubmarine warfare exercises.9 The risk was the wager. Because a large forward posture was needed to underwrite a “war-widening” strategy, Reagan preserved Washington’s basing network across Asia and maintained forward-stationed troop levels.

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He also initiated the “Reagan Doctrine” of arming anticommunist groups to fight and in some cases overthrow socialist regimes in the Third World. For Asia, this was mainly an issue in Cambodia and the Philippines; in both instances, the United States supported brutally violent and antidemocratic forces on the ground in the name of opposing communism (discussed further hereafter). Most importantly, though, Reagan doubled the defense budget, expanded the size and missions of U.S. special operations forces, developed road-mobile intercontinental ballistic missiles, built toward a six-hundred-ship navy, and launched the Strategic Defense Initiative for a ballistic missile defense system, among many other initiatives.10 It added up to a clear break from balance-of-power politics in favor of seeking a decisive imbalance of power. This more deliberately aggressive and military-centric approach to strategy seemed to work too well, and historians disagree about whether its effectiveness was apparent (coincidental) or actual. Declassified Soviet reactions at the time suggest the maritime strategy in particular had little effect.11 Yet even if it was actually successful, it was also exceedingly risky, rendering 1983 a year of multiple war scares.12 By that time, Soviet officials and “a large portion of the Soviet population believed nuclear war was dangerously close.”13 The possibility of war then weighed heavily on Reagan too.14 The U.S. flirtation with brinkmanship was a global problem, not just an Asian one, but imposed on the region in two ways. One was FLEETEX-83, conducted in March and April, which at the time was the “largest Pacific exercise since World War II” and took place close to the Soviet Union’s Asian periphery.15 It was part of a series of maneuvers— including many with Japan’s Self-Defense Forces—that aimed to spook the Soviets into military restraint. The other risk to Asia was more diffuse, as a result of the horizontal escalation concept underpinning the navy’s maritime strategy. Reagan officials thought they were increasing pressure on Moscow, but a malfunction in at least one instance registered as though the United States was preparing a nuclear first strike.16 And even though the primary theater of concern was Europe, Asia was in jeopardy because the idea of “taking the fight to the enemy” explicitly meant opening attacks on Soviet clients outside the main area of dispute. By design, a conflagration in Europe was likely to set off attacks in Southeast or Northeast Asia.

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But the danger of the moment eventually passed, aided by the global antinuclear movement pressuring politicians toward restraint, which converged with Reagan’s deep personal realization about how easily nuclear war might have happened on his watch.17 And when the Soviet Bloc eventually began to collapse by 1989, it had much to do with the structure of the global economy, which had shifted decisively in the 1970s to undermine the sources of Soviet power.18 In the final decade of the Cold War, moreover, the effects of globalization combined with the Soviet Union’s imperial overextension and the percolation of “new thinking” about liberalization within the bureaucracy and political circles.19 No evidence from this decade suggests that military superiority was necessary for Asia to stay relatively peaceful, or that it needed to be pursued in the high-risk way that Reagan did. Given the Soviet Union’s gradual disintegration, it is at least plausible that the United States could have preserved regional stability by maintaining a more modest force posture in Asia.

Unequal Alliances Defense planners and policy makers of the Reagan era saw military superiority and alliances as inextricably linked. With National Security Decision Directive (NSDD) 32, Reagan formally established the role of allies in U.S. strategy, recognizing that it “must increasingly draw upon the resources and cooperation of allies and others to protect our interests and those of our friends.”20 It is generally fair to say too that the Reagan administration thought of itself as pro-alliance. Reagan’s secretary of state George Shultz was fond of a metaphor of alliance management as gardening—“getting the weeds out when they are small”—which conveys the strategic import of simple relationship maintenance.21 But Reagan’s alliance wager was sullied by some questionable risks to alliances themselves. Not everyone shared Shultz’s view; the reasons for valuing allies varied considerably among staff, and Shultz himself did not always practice diplomacy according to his gardening diktat. As a result, a hierarchical, even paternalistic, attitude toward alliances as U.S. instruments (rather than relationships of diffuse reciprocity or mutuality) produced frictions and inconsistencies that undermined the claim of alliance centrality in U.S. thinking about Asia.

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The Republican Party platform in 1980 painted a grim picture of Asia, jabbing at Carter for abandoning Taiwan, allowing a Soviet military buildup in the region to go unchecked, permitting North Korea to obtain a favorable military balance, and crowing unproductively about human rights in the Philippines and South Korea. Where Carter left the impression that the United States was vacating Asia, Reagan’s platform proclaimed that it would “restore a strong American role in Asia and the Pacific. . . . Any military action which threatens the independence of America’s allies and friends will bring a response sufficient to make its cost prohibitive to potential adversaries.”22 The perception of Reagan officials was that Carter had placed too much emphasis on China, rather than alliances, as the source of regional stability. To remedy this, key players—especially Paul Wolfowitz and Michael Armacost at the State Department, James Lilley at the NSC, and Richard Armitage and Caspar Weinberger at the Pentagon— coalesced rhetorically around Japan as the “linchpin” of strategy. George Shultz, who came in as secretary of state in 1982, also shared and promulgated this notion. After much prodding from Pentagon officials, Japan’s Prime Minister Nakasone gradually opened the country’s technology sector (which was world leading at the time) to collaboration in the Strategic Defense Initiative, Reagan’s grand ballistic missile defense project. Japan was also key to making the navy’s maritime strategy work.23 Japan’s role would be to protect its own sea lanes in a conflict, which would not only free up U.S. naval forces for other missions but also make it harder for the Soviet navy to break out beyond its Japan-facing perimeter.24 To ready Japan for this doctrinal shift, the United States facilitated a buildup of Japan’s maritime forces, including an advanced antisubmarine warfare capability, three hundred fighter aircraft, and sixty destroyers (surface combatant ships).25 Reagan also heeded Japanese counsel about ensuring that the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty then being negotiated with the Soviets would entail a global drawdown (rather than only a regional European reduction) in missiles. That the Soviets agreed to these terms in 1987 meant that, thereafter, Japan was no longer at risk of attack from ground-launched Soviet missiles with intermediate range—a material contribution toward securing Japan and the Asian peace.

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In South Korea, Reagan again positioned himself contra Carter, primarily by eschewing criticism of Seoul’s authoritarian government and its human rights abuses. Reagan also resumed the annual defense ministerial Security Consultative Meeting (SCM) between Washington and Seoul that had been suspended under Carter, and put an end once and for all to Carter’s aborted effort to withdraw U.S. troops from the Korean Peninsula.26 Through the SCM mechanism as well as other statements, the United States additionally affirmed the then-new promise of U.S. extended nuclear deterrence to South Korea and kept U.S. low-yield nuclear weapons stationed in South Korea as a down payment on that promise.27 With Taiwan too, the Reagan administration saw itself as repudiating Carter. While Taiwan was no longer technically a treaty ally of the United States, Reagan’s team wanted to treat it as a strategically aligned country—one that acted in accord with U.S. preferences and that others recognized as part of the U.S. sphere of influence.28 Added to anti-Carterism was the Taiwan Relations Act of 1979, which required the United States to provide weapons to Taiwan “to resist any resort to force or other forms of coercion that would jeopardize the security, or the social or economic system, of the people on Taiwan.” Reagan stated plainly and publicly in 1981 that “I have not changed my feelings about Taiwan. . . . I intend to live up to the Taiwan Relations Act.”29 Reagan also had ties to the Taiwan lobby, both through his staff and through his vice president George H. W. Bush, who for years had argued against allowing any perception of abandoning Taiwan in the process of courting China. By August 1982, Reagan dictated an internal policy that took the public form of “six reassurances” stating the intention to continue with arms sales to Taiwan but also to formally limit them (for the first time): The U.S. willingness to reduce its arms sales to Taiwan is conditioned absolutely upon the continued commitment of China to the peaceful solution of the Taiwan-PRC differences. It should be clearly understood that the linkage between these two matters is a permanent imperative of U.S. foreign policy. In addition, it is essential that the quality and quantity of the arms provided Taiwan be conditioned entirely on the threat posed by the PRC. Both

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in quantitative and qualitative terms, Taiwan’s defense capability relative to that of the PRC will be maintained.30 This formula awkwardly, but convincingly enough, preserved a negative peace across the Taiwan Strait without alienating China, becoming the baseline formula for a generation of China hands in the U.S. government.31 In Southeast Asia, U.S. alliances were also the primary tools of policy. The United States furnished a near-continuous flow of security assistance to Thailand in the hope of using it as a bulwark against communist Vietnamese expansion. In the Philippines, the United States made huge investments in professionalizing the military32 and maintained close operational-level ties between U.S. and Filipino forces, and Reagan himself had a close personal affection for the country’s kleptocratic leader, Ferdinand Marcos. The United States saw its alliance with the Philippines as necessary to combat a growing communist insurgency in the country, as well as to preserve access to Clark Air Base and a naval base at Subic Bay—key U.S. hubs for power projection into Asia.33 In the Pacific, meanwhile, the Reagan administration initially viewed the ANZUS alliance with Australia and New Zealand as Asia’s most stable security arrangement, hoping to feature it more centrally in both U.S. strategy and public diplomacy.34 Paul Wolfowitz, who at the time was assistant secretary of state for East Asian and Pacific Affairs, even proclaimed Australia and New Zealand “permanent” allies, because they shared permanent interests in democracy and the rule of law.35 Beyond ANZUS too, the Reagan administration made an extremely subtle gambit in the Pacific Islands that often gets overlooked in histories of U.S. strategy in the Asia-Pacific. In 1986 (though negotiations were largely completed by 1980), the United States concluded the Compact of Free Association (COFA), an agreement that locked in asymmetric military alliances with Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia. Although hardly getting a footnote in the alliance policies of the 1980s, and no mention in any of the memoirs from that era, the compact helped preempt military competition in the Pacific for decades hence.36 The compact was an explicitly hierarchical patron-client relationship formalizing all three nations

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as belonging to an exclusive U.S. sphere of influence that gave it veto rights over any military relationships they formed.37 And as Philip Manhard, a former ambassador to the Trust Territory, acknowledged, “The United States took its security and defense interests and military prerogatives very seriously, and its political, social, and economic responsibilities relatively lightly.”38 But the upshot was that COFA allowed these nations, which did not have militaries of their own, to divert defense spending to other priorities. From the perspective of the Asian peace, this was valuable because it entailed no risk of military conflict between nations with no militaries, and further consolidating American primacy in the Pacific made it impractical for outside powers to contest it. While alliances figured prominently in Reagan administration statecraft toward Asia in concept, the deeply unequal treatment of allies, occasional high-handedness, and the anticommunist prism that colored how the United States valued alliances forsook one ally and embrittled others. The United States was not as domineering with everyone as it was with the COFA nations, but it was imperious all the same—an attitude that led to the United States frequently treating allies either roughly or as an afterthought. The Reagan administration exhibited a low tolerance for contestation between patron and client, resulting in a pattern of intra-alliance friction and in some cases a willingness to risk the future of alliances. As Reagan’s Pentagon shifted to a strategy of horizontal escalation spanning multiple theaters, Australian defense planners sought to avoid, rather than be part of, U.S. “contingency planning for global war.”39 U.S. officials, including Weinberger and Shultz, repeatedly impressed on Australia the value of Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), which was presented as a fait accompli for allies like Australia, and every bit a politically charged gambit in Canberra as it was in Washington. Yet rather than accept that support for SDI was the price of an alliance with the United States, Australian politicos at the time openly questioned SDI’s strategic logic, believing it would increase nuclear first-strike incentives and therefore actually weaken deterrence.40 Australia explicitly refused to participate and made a number of technical and foreign policy decisions aimed at distancing the Australian government from aiding the venture.41 That this and other intra-alliance tensions did

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not become a bigger problem was helped by the dramatic downturn in U.S. relations with New Zealand. Out of something akin to bureaucratic stubbornness, the Reagan administration decided to abandon its alliance with New Zealand as soon as a concrete disagreement arose regarding nuclear weapons policy. When New Zealand refused port access to the USS Buchanan on February 4, 1985—because the ship would not verify (consistent with U.S. Navy policy) whether it had a nuclear payload—Reagan approved curbing military cooperation and intelligence sharing with New Zealand, as well as abrogating its defense commitment.42 It was a deliberately punitive decision that ran counter to the Reagan administration’s rhetoric about not punishing allies for disagreements. Although the administration decided that New Zealand would still be treated as other “friendly nations with whom we share important security interests,”43 the country would no longer enjoy U.S. protection. The reaction was extreme because the CIA and NSC staff worried that New Zealand’s example would embolden the Soviets and inspire other friendly countries to similarly constrain U.S. nuclear posture.44 Fortunately for the Asian peace, nothing much hinged solely on New Zealand’s alliance with the United States; New Zealand was remote from theaters of potential conflict and a bit player in regional deterrence. Yet the entire New Zealand episode evinced a clear willingness to prioritize force posture over alliances when the two came into conflict. The Reagan administration compensated for the loss of New Zealand by shoring up its ties to Australia, which encouraged both Australia and the United States to paper over their ongoing disagreements in the name of avoiding a larger strategic rupture after the New Zealand incident. In contrast with Australia and New Zealand, South Korea had a much more stable, if still unequal, relationship with the Reagan administration. Policy makers in Seoul perceived the United States as conducting itself with “paternalistic arrogance,” though that reflected more continuity than change.45 By design, the U.S.-Korea alliance in the 1980s was largely on autopilot, benefiting from Reagan’s “quiet diplomacy” norm that subdued disagreements with authoritarian anticommunists.46 This approach insulated the alliance from public pressure, but it also fueled popular anti-American

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sentiment throughout the decade and beyond.47 Pro-democracy forces in South Korea came to identify the alliance as synonymous with autocracy, which was not wrong.48 For them, the United States warranted no credit for encouraging Korea’s transition to democracy in 1987. They instead resented U.S. collaboration with South Korean dictators that had occurred up to that point—the root cause of alliance volatility for a generation to come. The Reagan administration even made decisions that put its alliance with Japan at risk. It was the era of ascendant, and some feared hegemonic, Japanese soft power, and the United States took actions toward it that appeared antihegemonic in motivation. Shultz betrayed the paradoxical nature of the U.S. alliance with Japan in his recollections. On the one hand, he says in his memoir that “for me, the centerpiece [of Asia] has always been Japan. By far the largest economy in Asia, Japan is a key strategic partner.”49 But this narrative obscures another that was more hierarchical and zero-sum. Shultz once told Reagan that he “earlier developed a theory of industrial relations at MIT according to which management’s efforts to preserve good relations with workers for relations’ sake alone ultimately stifled innovation and created even larger friction down the road.”50 Imperiousness as strategy: in Shultz’s view, management was to labor as the United States was to allies— a sentiment befitting the individual-rationalist ethos of the 1980s. Applying his model to U.S.-Japan ties, Shultz said, “If we underestimate the Japanese, we make a huge mistake, but we can compete successfully with them. . . . America must ensure Japan is not tempted, because of Western neglect, shortsightedness, or hostility, to build an economic and military zone of its own in Asia.”51 Shultz’s fear of Japan’s hegemonic potential reflected an idea implanted in the popular mind by a book by the scholar Ezra Vogel in 1979 titled Japan as Number One, which argued that Japan would soon dominate the global economy. Anti-Japanese sentiment soared throughout the 1980s as Reagan’s economic policies indirectly stoked renewed “Yellow Peril” racism and consequent protectionist economic measures aimed at forcing Japan to open its markets more and reduce its trade surplus with the United States.52 Escalating U.S. indebtedness to Japan throughout the decade produced popular support for tariffs and trade sanctions as well as increased

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pressure for Japan to take a more active defense role (principally but not entirely by spending more on its military). Japan’s growing clout, combined with growing U.S. dependence on it, led Shultz and others to ask, “Was Japan trying to achieve by economic power what it wasn’t able to achieve with military power?”53 The U.S.-Japan alliance held together despite all of this because the United States needed it. Japan had emerged by 1985 as the leading financier of America’s military superiority wager: no Japan, no favorable balance of power against the Soviets. The U.S. defense budget spiked the federal deficit, which necessitated foreign capital that Japanese firms were all too happy to provide. Added to this new strategically entangled reality was the enduring importance of Japan as a forward post for U.S. power in Asia, as well as lingering fears of renewed Japanese militarism. Asian states had not yet gotten past the history of Japan’s bloody aggression in World War II. “Everywhere I went in the Asia Pacific,” reported Shultz, “the idea of a rearmed Japan was opposed.”54 U.S. bases throughout the island nation were a pacifier for all, even the United States: “The close and daily contact of American with Japanese forces would . . . prevent any unmonitored buildup.”55 And yet key players in the Reagan administration, not least Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger and Assistant Secretary of State Paul Wolfowitz, took every opportunity to press Japan to take on greater defense responsibilities anyway. U.S. trade frictions with Japan and the rise of anti-Japanese threat perceptions in the United States were not entirely the doing of the Reagan administration; often Congress or public opinion was the driving force, and the executive branch just the intermediary. But these were problems that put the alliance at risk all the same. And Japan—as a pacifist country advancing trade and investment linkages across Asia and financing American military superiority— played an important part in the Asian peace during this period.

Great-Power Détente Reagan’s first secretary of state, Alexander Haig, claimed to have “watched in terror” at President Carter’s normalization of relations with China because it “went well beyond what was needed.”56

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Ironically, however, the United States did more to modernize the Chinese military under Reagan (an avowed anticommunist) than under any president before or since, in addition to deliberately growing and helping liberalize the Chinese economy. This was premised on the idea that cooperative ties with China would help keep Asia stable. And while Sino-U.S. détente was vitally important to preserving the Asian peace in the 1980s, it was considerably less important to the United States than military superiority or regional alliances. When it came to Asia policy, disagreements within the Reagan administration were sharpest on the China question. Assistant Secretary of State John Holdridge testified before Congress in 1981 that “our long-term objective is to enhance greatly the stability of the region by strengthening U.S.-China ties.”57 It was a statement the administration lived up to in word and deed, but it was not without internal controversy. Republicans had always been divided on the merits of Nixon’s opening and subsequent normalization of relations with China. In the 1970s, Henry Kissinger was a relentless force in promoting a strategically reasoned détente with China despite the misgivings of those with traditional anticommunist sympathies or with ties to the Taiwan lobby. But Paul Wolfowitz, among others, thought that “China’s global strategic importance had been largely manufactured by Kissinger to make himself look smart and to help justify the opening to China.”58 Alexander Haig, who not only was Wolfowitz’s boss at the State Department but had previously been a protégé of Henry Kissinger, took the opposite view. Haig saw himself as carrying on the tradition of protecting the new strategic relationship with China, which meant somewhat forsaking Taiwan.59 When George Shultz replaced Haig in 1982, he brought with him a view that aligned with Wolfowitz, believing that “while President Nixon’s opening to China in 1972 gave both countries some leverage over the Soviets, it is also true that the opening gave the Chinese leverage over us.”60 And the internal friction over China was not only a matter of personality conflicts at the top; contention “filtered down through the bureaucracies to a far greater extent” than on other issues.61 But disagreements over the United States supporting China were ones of degree, not kind. Proof of that is what Reagan’s poli-

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cies actually were: preservation of a cooperative relationship with Beijing and unprecedented investment in the Chinese military and economy. The six reassurances to Taiwan represented the first time the United States had formally acknowledged a willingness to limit arms sales to Taiwan, albeit with the proviso that China stay committed to peaceful resolution of Taiwan’s future. The CIA and the Pentagon both established formal relationships with Chinese intelligence and the PLA, meeting at regular intervals and exchanging information and arranging technology transfers throughout the 1980s. On the back of these regularized contacts, the CIA paid China some $100 million per year for weapons that it then funneled to the mujahideen (later the Taliban) in Afghanistan to fight the Soviet presence until its eventual withdrawal.62 By 1985, U.S. defense contractors had acquired as much as five billion dollars worth of export licenses for the PLA and China’s defense industry.63 The relaxation of export restrictions to China in 1981 and 1982, combined with the new mil-to-mil relationship and the approval of China for the Pentagon’s Foreign Military Sales program, paved the way for the transfer of antitank missiles (BGM-71 TOW), artillery ammunition and radars, armored personnel carriers, the avionics packages for F-8 fighters, Mark 46 antisubmarine torpedoes, the engines for naval surface destroyers, and twentyfour S-70C Black Hawk helicopters.64 This was also the beginning of a booming commercial relationship with China. The Reagan administration actively brokered business connections between U.S. and Chinese firms, supported China’s purchase of U.S. goods on credit, and funneled U.S. capital through the Overseas Private Investment Corporation.65 All told, the magnitude of U.S. support to China was on par with, and arguably exceeded, what was provided to the Philippines, one of the United States’ closest formal allies at the time. The logic of investing in China like this, as Assistant Secretary Holdridge reported to Congress, was that “only the interest of our adversaries would be served by a weak China that had failed to modernize or a China that, in its frustration, turned away from moderation and cooperation with the West.”66 The reason for continuing détente, then, was not to achieve political liberalization of Beijing but rather to restrain Chinese adventurism and make the

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country a force for stability in Asia. Writing at the end of the Cold War, Shultz stated, “[Reagan and I] knew that China wanted it both ways: to gain the benefits of a booming economy while maintaining state control. . . . A society cannot be Communist and capitalist at the same time.”67 There was little basis to think otherwise. As the Defense Intelligence Agency assessed in 1984, China sought to “selectively acquire advanced foreign technology for incorporation into its military-industrial infrastructure . . . to minimize the political leverage that foreign nations would acquire” in the process.68 So while the Reagan administration wanted greater access for U.S. businesses to the mostly latent potential of the China market, it never banked on Chinese reform as the source of regional stability. Détente was also important for Deng Xiaoping, who emerged by 1979 as the country’s leader and was besieged by both conservative reactionaries and left-wing revolutionaries all the while. At the Twelfth Party Congress in 1982, Deng asserted that China must place “economic construction at the core” of its modernization program through at least the end of the decade, even as he—along with the Party Congress that year—affirmed ideological fidelity to socialism.69 But Deng’s domestic reforms needed, and were aided by, a presumption of pragmatic collaboration with the United States. Economic development and a more moderate foreign policy went hand in glove. Deng and his political allies spent the 1980s pivoting China away from its role as a global leader of revolutionary socialism and toward an identity as a reformist part of the Third World. Reconciling itself to a new reality—namely, that “revolution cannot be exported but can occur only by the choice of the people of the country concerned”—China adapted its internal rhetoric to its steadily building track record of cooperation with the United States and the capitalist global North more broadly.70 If China’s domestic picture was so crucial to understanding its embrace of a nonrevolutionary foreign policy in the 1980s, was it necessary for the Reagan administration to engage in substantial weapons and technology transfers for China to sustain a mostly cooperative foreign policy? Arguably yes. It makes sense to think about the relevance of U.S. decisions in relation to how they strengthened Deng and moderates in Beijing. In the context of

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Deng’s political battles at home, a semifriendly United States providing multiple forms of direct aid to the PLA was an asset even beyond the necessary role of accessing Western technology for modernization. In the early 1980s, the PLA was resistant to Deng’s reform agenda, which, for the military, included three massive force reductions over the decade, taking the PLA from a troop strength of six million to a little over half that by the Cold War’s end.71 In addition to being oversize and behind the times technologically, the PLA was bureaucratically heavy, leading Deng to deride the PLA’s leadership as “undisciplined, arrogant, extravagant, and lazy.”72 Deng, moreover, sought to minimize the military siphoning resources from the national priority at the time: economic development.73 If the United States were not nurturing a military relationship with the PLA, and if the United States were not a source of revenue, weaponry, and intelligence for the PLA, it would have been that much harder for Deng to bring the military in line with the overhauls he believed were needed in the party, the economy, and the military. A Chinese scholar criticized Reagan’s Asia policy as being guilty of “romanticism,” downplaying China’s importance because of ideology rather than a sober assessment of reality.74 The United States simply could not hope to stave off war in Asia without China doing its part to refrain from conflict as well. Yet U.S. statecraft under Reagan did not de-emphasize China policy so much as depoliticize it. Occasional rhetoric to the contrary notwithstanding, the United States institutionalized working relationships with Chinese government officials, the PLA, and China’s business sectors that not only grew China’s economy and military capacity but also encouraged Deng’s reforms and suppressed military adventurism. Détente was keeping Asia stable.

Debt-Funded Interdependence In the Reagan era, the United States portrayed itself as defender of the free market but, especially in Asia, not only betrayed its professed neoliberal orthodoxy but at times stood in the way of regional economic integration. It is true that the Reagan administration was enamored with the primacy of markets. It is

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also true that the United States used policy during this period to push Third World governments to deregulate their industries and open markets to trade with the United States. But the forced liberalization policies of the “Washington consensus” met significant opposition in parts of Asia and were disconnected from any concept of peace. And the U.S. Congress, as well as the Reagan administration at times, had no problem pursuing mercantilist trade policies toward Asia when it benefited vocal American corporate interest groups. The story of growing economic interdependence in the 1980s was primarily about the dramatic shift in East Asia that Japan and the United States helped propel in the 1970s. Asia’s anticommunist NICs—the ASEAN states plus Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Taiwan—sought access to foreign markets and capital to build high-functioning governments and bolster their political legitimacy. Japanese and U.S. firms led a sally into East Asia, looking not only to open markets for outside investment but also to shift labor-intensive manufacturing to countries where workers were cheap and abundant. The nations of the East Asian Third World, in turn, gradually shifted to the export-led models of economic growth that made them into NICs.75 The shape of this developmental pattern adapted as political economy itself changed in the 1970s and early 1980s; the process of globalization started to distribute Asian industrial production networks across borders within the region, aided by technological advances making it easier to transmit goods and communication across longer distances.76 In effect, intra-Asian economic interdependence was a by-product of the developmental-state imperative intersecting with the larger trend of globalization. Interdependence then increased the costs of conflict and the disruption that would occur should the NICs revert to traditional geopolitical rivalry, which further locked in economic development as the region’s priority. In 1981, the United States was Asia’s dominant economic player. As hegemon of the noncommunist world, it sustained the system in which Asia’s national leaders tailored growth strategies, partly through policies fashioned in Washington and partly through U.S. influence in the World Bank and International Monetary Fund. Of even greater import was the U.S. consumer market,

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which became a destination of choice for finished products like electronics, textiles, and automobiles manufactured in East Asia.77 Every national growth calculation by a noncommunist Asian government depended on access to the U.S. market.78 While an economic order that tilted favorably toward the United States would continue to exist after Reagan’s presidency, it was on his watch that the global economy underwent a dramatic shift that changed the character of U.S. economic hegemony, and with it the structure of Asian political economy. Reagan’s choice of not simply forward military presence but military superiority— without commensurate tax revenue or domestic spending offsets— started the United States down a generation-long economic path that would later inflame reactionary political attitudes at home as quality-of-life measures for the average American eroded and inequality worsened.79 And as interest rates rose to finance growing budget deficits, the United States imported cheaper goods and attracted capital from East Asia’s newly industrializing economies. Japan alone tripled investment in the United States between 1982 and 1987,80 which not only secured the United States as a destination for Tokyo’s manufacturing but also provided the means for Japan to build investment networks across Asia.81 And by drawing on Japanese capital as well as other inputs, Asia’s NICs generated their own investment capacity, which they began routing less to domestic projects (which promised low and diminishing returns over time) than to the United States, which in turn aided Asia’s impressive historical growth rates while worsening domestic inequalities.82 The United States thus stood at the heart of a new regional equilibrium of crosscutting but hierarchical production, trade, and investment. Japan pushed capital into the region, the region pushed goods to the United States, and the United States gave favorable interest rate returns on regional capital to finance the debt it was accruing in the name of military superiority. But this pattern remained stable only as long as (1) the U.S. demand for Asia’s finished goods stayed high, (2) the United States remained open to Asian financing of U.S. debt, and (3) the currencies of the Asian NICs stayed weak enough relative to the U.S. dollar that finished goods from Asia were cheap for American consumers. A change in

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these conditions would have introduced negative ripple effects for the NICs, which would have slowed or even reversed economic interdependencies. And the Reagan administration tried to change them, unsuccessfully, as it was transitioning the base of U.S. economic hegemony from superior growth rates and global credit making to a willingness to absorb the productive capacity and capital of the developing world—especially Asia. Did the Reagan administration think of economic policy as a means of producing peace? Not consciously, and certainly not relative to military considerations. NSDD 32, the formal blueprint of Reagan’s grand strategy, explicitly defined “U.S. access to foreign markets” and “a well-functioning international economic system” as objectives of, rather than tools for, strategy.83 When administration officials spoke of trade and investment in the region, they did so frequently as “economic benefits” and occasionally as equivalent to “freedom,” but rarely as a basis for peace.84 Consequently the United States stood in the way of both economic integration and the Asian development model far more than popular impressions of Reagan would suggest. By America’s own reasoning, it should have been using trade and industrial policy to aid or bolster Asian governments that were busy yoking legitimacy to economic growth rather than nationalist appeals. Yet it often did the opposite. Throughout the decade, U.S. officials badgered the Asian NICs to allow their currencies to appreciate, even though doing so undermined their developmental trade strategies and reduced their economic growth.85 During Reagan’s first year in office, he compelled Japan to agree to limits on automobile exports to the United States.86 Under James Baker, then chair of the newly empowered Economic Policy Council, the United States opened “Section 301” investigations—authorizing the president to sanction foreign actors that impede U.S. commerce—against Japan and South Korea on behalf of the U.S. tobacco lobby, which had hired Reagan’s national security adviser Richard Allen and other White House aides to export cigarettes into the Asian market.87 Through a combination of tariffs and domestic subsidies, the United States made the effective prices of commodities that were key to Southeast Asia’s economies—including rice, sugar, and palm oil—prohibitively expensive, reducing their competitiveness in the

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U.S. market.88 And on textiles, a major entry point into valueadded manufacturing for Southeast Asian governments, the United States leveraged its market power to bilaterally negotiate export restraints, again protecting U.S. manufacturers at the expense of Southeast Asian economic growth potential. ASEAN governments protested vociferously, repeatedly explaining to U.S. officials that regional security needed the United States to make an “effort to promote the developmental programs of the anti-communist governments of ASEAN.”89 It was widely understood at the time that U.S. policies were not just retarding Asian development but risked destabilizing Southeast Asia.90 In sum, the 1980s saw the United States concerned primarily for itself in the realm of economic policy at the expense of the region, pushing Asia to liberalize national economies while seeking favorable balances of trade. Reagan and his team rejected the idea that the global North owed any economic obligation to the global South. They also resisted the notion that economic statecraft was an instrument of high strategy or a way of realizing a stable region. They were therefore comfortable making choices that risked eroding the linkage between economic interdependence and regional peace. Interdependence continued to grow anyway because of globalization broadly, but also because the United States situated itself at the center of a new economic order held up by U.S. consumption and deficit spending.

Democracy as Anticommunism Reagan saw liberal democracy in a struggle for survival with the forces of totalitarianism. Defending liberalism as such did not generally translate into facilitating democracy abroad but rather manifested as fervent anticommunism and an imperative to make the world safe for (especially American) capital flows. As a result, the United States accepted considerable risks to (and in some ways retarded the onset of) a democratic peace in Asia. This may seem a strange claim, given that Reagan frequently identified with the cause of freedom, and his administration continued the rhetoric of human rights that took hold under Jimmy Carter.91 And Reagan, along with most of his senior-level appointees,

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spoke often about liberty and its synonyms.92 What is more, NSDD 32 acknowledged the deleterious effects of an absence of democracy: “Unstable governments, weak political institutions, and inefficient economies, and the persistence of traditional conflicts created opportunities for Soviet expansion.”93 Yet Reagan and the budding neoconservatives in his administration had made three related political moves that rendered support for democracy abroad into intermittent obstruction of democracy in Asia. One was to graft “democracy promotion” to the human rights agenda. Starting in the 1980s, to speak of one was to require the other, which had not previously been the case.94 A second move was to emphasize economic over political liberalism. For a neoliberal, promoting deregulation, weakened labor unions abroad, fiscal austerity, market access, and the like was the same as promoting good governance.95 For just about any other political worldview, however, these kinds of policies eroded democracy and increased the risks of structural violence in the societies where they were imposed.96 Reagan’s third move was to translate the promotion of democracy itself into the anticommunist struggle. Jean Kirkpatrick was famously appointed Reagan’s UN ambassador because of an article she published in the conservative magazine Commentary repudiating Jimmy Carter’s emphasis on human rights and instead effectively arguing for backing dictatorships in the name of anticommunism.97 In this view, which Reagan shared, supporting right-wing dictatorships was supporting democracy. It became the rationale for the Reagan Doctrine, which called for funneling weapons and aid to “freedom fighters” seeking national self-determination, though it only applied where the fight for freedom was against Soviet-backed governments. As with U.S. backing of right-wing dictatorships, the Reagan Doctrine had no compunction about the antidemocratic character of those doing the fighting as long as it was somehow against the Soviets.98 To be precise, then, Reagan’s support for democracy was principally about economic liberalism and anticommunism. It was not remotely about popular elections, economic equality, or anticorruption—which U.S. policies sometimes actively worsened. The United States facilitated South Korean and Filipino selfdetermination when those societies forced the issue, but even then,

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the endgame was weakening communism rather than bolstering democracy. As Paul Wolfowitz recommended in a memo to Haig in 1981, human rights should not be prioritized in foreign policy decision-making and should instead be a cudgel to harass and contain the Soviets.99 Wolfowitz rationalized this position in part by turning the Carter-era concept of human rights on its head, arguing that the best way to spread democracy was through “a strong defense posture . . . restoring America’s reputation as a reliable partner . . . [and] promoting economic progress in the development world” with policies targeted at liberalizing foreign markets.100 Wolfowitz’s conflation of human rights with power and democracy promotion implicitly rejected a causal connection between good governance or majoritarian elections on the one hand and peace on the other. This reasoning accounts for the United States continuing to supply aid to the genocidal Khmer Rouge in Cambodia in the 1980s—because they were Chinese clients and opponents of the Soviet-aligned Vietnamese. It explains why Reagan would invite the South Korean dictator Chun Doo-Hwan to the White House—and not even mention democratic reforms or any specific human rights concerns—in the early months of his presidency, after Chun had just taken power via military coup, in May 1980.101 It also helps us understand how Reagan could downplay Chinese communism by referring to “so-called communist China,”102 and why the United States “failed to recognize how intense was the appeal of Western-style political values” as street protests in China grew throughout the mid-1980s.103 Indonesia was an even more egregious case exposing that the Reagan administration had its own definition of freedom and democracy promotion that had little to do with political liberalism per se. Throughout the early 1980s, Indonesia conducted large-scale pacification campaigns against the East Timorese, razing villages, forcing conscription on males, burning civilians alive, and murdering children—an extension of its genocidal brutality in the 1970s.104 The Reagan administration said nary a critical word the entire time, accepting gross violations of human rights because, ultimately, Indonesia was anticommunist. And in the Philippines, Reagan funneled more than a billion dollars to help the country ward off a growing anticommunist

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insurgency. The United States had been an enthusiastic backer of strongman Ferdinand Marcos in spite of insuppressible evidence of lavish corruption and human rights violations. Although U.S. officials had quietly encouraged Marcos to hold unmolested elections in 1984, they were ignored, their pleas undermined by the intimate fondness Reagan had for Marcos.105 An indicator of Reagan’s bromance, and his larger operational code that construed prodemocracy as anticommunism, is how long it took for the U.S. government to support a transition to a democratic successor government. Amid growing street protests in 1985, fifty-six legislators attempted to impeach Marcos for his pillaging as much as $10 billion from public coffers.106 Key players on Reagan’s staff began to recognize that Marcos could not sustain his grip on power, recommending a change in policy that Reagan at first refused to heed.107 As Shultz explained, “The president does not want to push Marcos over the brink. . . . The Filipino people will have to throw Marcos out. Reagan will not push out a friend.”108 A snap election in February 1986 declared Marcos the winner, but with widespread allegations of voter fraud. Reagan went on television and equivocated, claiming election fraud “on both sides,” which was not true.109 Political leaders in the Philippines, and even parts of the military, began calling for Marcos’s removal in favor of Corazon Aquino—his opponent and the widow of a senator who was assassinated in 1983 (presumably on Marcos’s orders). Still Reagan was reluctant to abandon his friend. Finally, when the weight of evidence and political momentum were too great to resist, Republican senator Paul Laxalt, a friend of both Marcos and Reagan, told Marcos over the phone that he “should cut, and cut cleanly,” from politics in the Philippines.110 The State Department had just conveyed a similar message. The United States had helped keep Marcos in power too long but, when the writing was on the wall, eventually eased a peaceful transition to democracy when it could have stubbornly encouraged Marcos to fight to stay in power. Even after Marcos’s ouster, however, the fondness for the dictator endured. Reagan was said to be “tinged with sadness at what had happened to Marcos,” who was immediately granted exile in Hawaii—to the ire of the Aquino government—where he lived out his days and even plotted an armed takeover of the Philippines.111

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The inconsistencies of U.S. democracy promotion in Asia— supporting dictators and the Chinese, but also supporting democratic transitions in the Philippines and South Korea at crucial moments—make sense when we understand that Reagan’s team had a distinct theory of democracy that was really about opposing communism and exporting economic liberalism. While U.S. policy frequently stood in the way or slowed the onset of democracy in Asia, this amounted to a small risk for the Asian peace. There were few places where a democratic-peace logic could actually apply to Asia during Reagan’s tenure, and to the extent it did, the United States was relegated to a peripheral role—able to nudge or impede, but not impose or withhold, democracy. In the meantime, the region itself was proving that peace was possible without democracy.

The Latent “Threat” of Regionalism In the Reagan era, Asia’s “institutionalist moment” was beginning to percolate, not because of the United States but rather because of local initiative; ASEAN, Australia, and Japan in particular had emerged as champions of regional multilateralism, albeit with disputes about what form and function it ought to take. Reagan officials did not invest serious thought, resources, or political capital in Asia’s institutions or the practices that accompanied them. The notion of “ASEAN centrality” had not yet penetrated Washington’s strategic imagination, and the Pacific Economic Cooperation Council (PECC) would prove to be the one institution in which the United States was willing to conceptually invest. It viewed regionalism, and ASEAN especially, principally as a vehicle for corporate enlargement. Reagan’s team showed no interest in, and little awareness of, regional norms but was curious about regionalism’s institutional potential for U.S. economic gain. The administration dispatched officials to participate in the Australia- and Japan-led PECC, which at one point the United States hoped to turn into an Asian analogue to Europe’s Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD).112 The State Department’s Office of Policy Planning reasoned that “expanded cooperative and consultative ties” could be a “cushion and safety valve for the intense

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competitive pressures” of Asian geopolitics.113 Ambassador Richard Fairbanks went on a listening tour in Asia and wrote up an assessment of the threats and opportunities Asian regionalism posed. Shultz told Fairbanks that the United States had “an important set of relationships” in Asia but “no way of relating to them as a region, and they have no way of relating to each other multilaterally” (the latter point, of course, being inaccurate, but it was the prevailing Washington perspective).114 Fairbanks concluded that multilateralism in Asia ought to be “private-sector led.”115 Following his report, Reagan signed National Security Decision Directive 185 on September 5, 1985, acknowledging a general desire for participation in the evolving regionalist experiments under way in the Pacific, but noting that they should focus on “private sector and non-governmental organizations that support U.S. interests.”116 The directive showed no indication of having internalized Policy Planning’s view of regionalism as safety valve. The “private sector and non-governmental” prioritization of the directive hinted at the weak, peripheral way regionalism appeared in Reagan’s foreign policy. As the conservative historian Mike Green commented, they “came down like a hammer” on any regional grouping or idea that whiffed of undermining U.S. power.117 The best way to prevent regionalism from impinging on U.S. freedom of action was to keep it out of intergovernmental channels, except to facilitate business dealings. The proper role of institutions, as articulated by Fairbanks as well as NSDD 185, was to “open trading markets” and ensure regional initiatives in whatever forms “do not undercut United States bilateral objectives.”118 Their approach was to “grow [the architecture] slowly by consensus,” which was the ASEAN way and likely what Fairbanks was told over and again during his listening tour of the region.119 This neoliberal economic perspective on regional institutions extended even to ASEAN, which was portrayed in NSDD 185 not as an anticommunist bulwark but as a source of private-sector opportunities. ASEAN was primed for partnership with Washington. Carter had established the United States as an official “dialogue partner” with ASEAN in 1977 and met with ASEAN ministers in 1978. Reagan maintained but did not exceed that pace of engagement, attending an ASEAN session only once, in 1986.120

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At a bureaucratic level, Reagan officials continued giving rhetorical support to ASEAN, and at no point was ASEAN outright spurned or decried. Reagan, in a pandering flourish, once even said that “support for and cooperation with ASEAN is a linchpin of American Pacific policy.”121 Yet neither the form nor the substance of ASEAN figured much in U.S. strategic thinking. Where it did, the emphasis was decidedly commercial, as in NSDD 185. And as multiple observers at the time judged, “The Reagan administration had betrayed ASEAN by giving priority to China.”122 Policy deference to concerns about China was a general pattern throughout the final decade of the Cold War but was most acute in 1982 and 1983, when ASEAN was calling for the Khmer Rouge forces in Cambodia to disarm and for its leading dictator Pol Pot not to be allowed to return to power. The United States pressured ASEAN to relax these demands, which makes little sense on the face of it, except that it was what China wanted (because the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot were Chinese clients).123 ASEAN also sought for the Reagan administration to normalize relations with Vietnam as a way of winding down Vietnam’s ongoing occupation of Cambodia, which in the 1980s was the primary active territorial dispute in the subregion and the most immediate threat to ASEAN solidarity.124 But these entreaties fell on deaf ears. Not only did normalizing ties with a communist former enemy fit poorly with the anticommunist mantra of U.S. policy, but U.S. officials conditioned normalization itself on Vietnam’s withdrawal from Cambodia, leaving the conflict to fester on Reagan’s watch.125 As an alternative solution, ASEAN then pressed the Reagan administration to solicit Soviet cooperation to help convince Vietnam (a Soviet proxy) to pull out of Cambodia. But the United States proved unwilling to spend the political capital it had with the Soviets on Southeast Asia.126 The United States performed the rituals of ASEAN attendance throughout the 1980s, which in Asia is no small thing. The mere symbolism of senior U.S. officials showing up to regional meetings can signal legitimacy and validate ASEAN leaders’ continuing investment in regional norms and the larger developmentalist bargain. The problem was that Reagan and Shultz used their

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presence at ASEAN meetings to press disagreements—antithetical to ASEAN’s defining consensual approach to diplomacy—and affirm their unwillingness to brook compromise. ASEAN sessions attended by U.S. officials proved to be a chance for them to harangue Southeast Asian governments about lowering trade barriers and increasing access to U.S. products without accommodating those nations’ desires for preferential access to the U.S. market. In Reagan’s one meeting with ASEAN leaders in 1986, he chose his address before them to squarely rebut the premise of their economic needs, extolling “enterprise, not redistribution, as the best means of improving the economic well-being of any country.”127 During the same visit, the six members of ASEAN presented a memo documenting their shared economic concerns and reminding Reagan and Shultz that the legitimacy of anticommunism in Southeast Asia depended on continued economic growth.128 Indonesia’s foreign minister challenged Reagan’s antiprotectionist rhetoric as something merely “professed,” not practiced.129 Shultz eventually grew testy at perceived badgering from ASEAN, and by the end of the Reagan presidency, the only point of substantive agreement between ASEAN and the United States was unified opposition to Vietnam’s continued occupation of Cambodia, though even on that issue, they disagreed about how to oppose Vietnam.130 The important point here is not only that capitulating to ASEAN demands for favorable economic treatment in hindsight may have been both fair and effective at bolstering anticommunism and promoting a stable region. It is also that the United States used the form of multilateralism to push content that undermined regionalism itself.

Reagan’s Risk-Wager Balance The entirety of U.S. Asia policy in the Reagan era epitomized the Pacific power paradox. It was colored by the fight against the Soviet Union and the forward march of economic liberalism, which made military superiority, along with a network of alliances without which a favorable balance of power would have been impossible, the priority. The anti-Soviet imperative continued to furnish a rationale for détente with China, though the deepening levels of

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weapons sales and intelligence sharing were equally motivated by the expectation that a cooperative modus vivendi with Beijing would continue to pacify its once adventurist foreign policy. Still, détente was easily the most important work Reagan did to function as a vital bulwark of stability, along with concluding the INF Treaty. Being an imperious superpower, the United States conducted its statecraft in ways that sometimes jeopardized the Asian peace. The priority goal of containing, even rolling back, global communism by definition meant that preventing war in Asia, while desirable, was not the foremost concern. Coercive risk-taking was deliberate and, at several points in 1983, really did flirt with disaster. Japan was paradoxically treated as both the U.S. linchpin and an emerging political threat, while New Zealand was abandoned and sanctioned as soon as it openly contested U.S. nuclear policy. As an aloof hegemon, meanwhile, Reagan’s democracy promotion decoupled economic from political liberalism, with the con­ sequence that aid for right-wing despots—including China, the Khmer Rouge, Indonesia, Ferdinand Marcos, and Chun DooHwan—was seen as necessary even as a tide of popular demand for democratic enfranchisement was rising in many parts of the region. Reagan stood staunchly on the side of Asia’s autocrats all the way up to the moment that Asia’s peoples threw off their native yokes of oppression. Reagan’s economic statecraft sometimes stood in the way of Asian interdependence while still seeking to liberalize Asian markets, and his NSC determined that the United States ought to steer Asia’s regionalism experiments toward private-sector enrichment and ensuring they did not impinge on U.S. influence. And while the shifting character of U.S. economic hegemony—based on U.S. consumption and debt accumulation rather than credit making—was essential to the process of growing regional interdependence and therefore good for stabilizing Asia, it was not a conscious strategic decision and would create political problems for the United States if sustained in the long term. That the region did not see a new war during this period was partly due to luck. The nuclear dangers of 1983 could have turned out much differently. Deng’s political fortunes in Beijing could

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have pushed China toward a more aggressive policy in its periphery. And Southeast Asian leaders’ hold on power relied too much on predictable economic growth that was hardly predictable or in their control. But the Asia of the 1980s was far less of a powder keg than in prior decades, which permitted Reagan to take risks that might not have worked out favorably for his predecessors (or his successors).

chapter four

A Unipolar Imperium and Its Discontents

T

with the world on the cusp of the “unipolar moment”: a period of unrivaled global primacy the United States won by default once the Soviet Union began to dissolve. For Europe, and especially former Soviet Bloc countries, the span from the fall of the Berlin Wall to the start of the twenty-first century was one of dramatic and mostly promising change. A “third wave” of democratization continued to wash over the continent. Communism’s collapse in Europe seemed to validate liberal economic policies as the only way to respond to globalization rationally, leading George H. W. Bush to proclaim in his presidential inauguration speech on January 20, 1989, “We know how to secure a more just and prosperous life for man on earth: through free markets, free speech, free elections, and the exercise of free will unhampered by the state.”1 Circumstances in Asia somewhat moderated this ebullience. China, under Deng Xiaoping’s “reform and opening,” had turned away from revolution, but its determination to retake Hong Kong and Taiwan never lessened, and its own political future as Deng approached retirement remained murky. Both China and South HE REAGAN PRESIDENCY ENDED

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Korea, moreover, remained deeply antagonistic toward Japan, nursing not only historical grievances over Tokyo’s apparent lack of contrition for ravaging both nations during its imperial days but also unresolved territorial disputes with it. And while North Korea did not yet have nuclear weapons, it was making substantial strides toward obtaining them, leading the United States to seriously contemplate war in 1994. Remnant sources of pessimism notwithstanding, the unipolar moment ended up being Asia’s most peaceful in the modern era. Post-Soviet Russia, now consumed by political volatility and reform at home, no longer posed a threat to regional stability. Without a Soviet patron, Vietnam, the chief threat to ASEAN, made peace with Cambodia and withdrew its forces from the country. Worries about Japanese hegemony disappeared when its economy slid into a prolonged recession starting in 1990. The third wave of democratization had included South Korea, the Philippines, and Taiwan and even started reaching the shores of Indonesia and Thailand in the 1990s. And Asia’s newly industrializing economies grew bolder not only in their advocacy for various forms of regionalism but also in their self-promotion of a distinctly “Asian way” of peacefully combining illiberal politics and economic development. The Asian financial crisis in 1997 chastened East Asia’s NICs, but without dislodging the trends that were underpinning them: growing economic interdependence, the rise of China, the growth of regionalism, and the centrality of U.S. forward military presence to just about all of Asia. The experience of the crisis heightened two fundamental tensions: (1) between Asia’s growing determination to control its own fate and its general expressed need for the United States to continue playing a stabilizing role in the region, and (2) between the importance of China to regional economic affairs and the importance of the United States to regional security affairs.

Liberal Military Primacy With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Bush and Clinton both faced political headwinds demanding a post–Cold War “peace dividend”—a widespread presumption that the United States would not need to sustain high levels of defense spending and that

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money saved could be used for other purposes.2 For Bush, key players—among them Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney, Paul Wolfowitz, National Security Adviser Brent Scowcroft, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell, and in the end Bush himself—were determined to retain military superiority, and the only question was how and what purpose it would serve.3 For Clinton, it was less about the will of particular policy entrepreneurs on his team than it was a liberal hegemonic way of thinking that took for granted the need to remain militarily unrivaled.

Bush Saves the Pentagon Those initial post–Cold War transition years were a time of conceptual shoe fitting. At various points, strategy documents and speeches referred to democratic “zones of peace,” “collective security,” “multipolarity,” “polycentrism,” and “interdependence”—none of which resembled how the Bush administration’s most influential decision makers thought or acted—as well as “dynamic balancing,” “selective engagement,” and “primacy,” which more often did.4 The historian Jeremi Suri’s quip that “Bush had process but no purpose” was a nod to this conceptual erraticism.5 Even the 1990 war against Iraq to reverse its invasion of neighboring Kuwait—arguably the most momentous foreign policy decision of Bush’s presidency—was portrayed by insiders as a decision in search of a rationale.6 There was a reflexive notion that defending a system of fixed national borders supported the “new world order” of which Bush spoke, but that order never really came to pass and was never meaningfully conceptualized beyond a facade of collective security. To convey how the United States saw its own role and tool kit for influencing Asia and the world, historians of this era have coalesced around the 1992 Defense Planning Guidance (DPG) document that famously leaked to the New York Times.7 It remains the most transparent and lucid (if aggressive) thinking from the Bush era about post–Cold War foreign policy. The leak elicited massive controversy because it described a U.S. mandate to “refocus on precluding the emergence of any potential future global competitor.”8 Taken at face value, the DPG was not just unilateralist but primacist, seeking to dominate and keep down all rising powers—even

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allies Germany and Japan. The purpose of the DPG was to guide defense budgeting in five-year increments, but virtually nobody read it that way. It told the military services what to prioritize and prepare for when determining the requirements of the joint force. In this sense, the language of the DPG amounted to analytically informed rhetoric to support budgetary games; it was not a statement of U.S. national strategy or policy, even if some within the administration believed it should be.9 Proof of the DPG’s unauthoritative nature is not only that the Bush administration partially revised the final version to be less imperious once it got coordinated outside the Pentagon; Bush also subsequently issued a National Security Strategy that made no reference to the synonyms of primacy, hegemony, unipolarity, or dominance that suffused the DPG. What the draft and revised DPGs rationalized was not primacy but military superiority—building a big enough and modern enough military to prevail against any and all plausible adversaries in war. It offered a top-down view of the world, making Asia a theater that necessitated maintaining “our status as a military power of the first magnitude [in the Pacific Rim] . . . acting as a balancing force and prevent[ing the] emergence of a vacuum or a regional hegemon.”10 It was the reasoning of the Reagan years—seeking a favorable balance of power as a means of stabilizing Asia—but in a less threatening region that made it much easier to forgo the more provocative muscle flexing and coercive signaling in Reagan’s military strategy. The DPG’s conceptual cocksurety at a moment of radical uncertainty owed to the Gulf War in 1990–91, which was the consummation of the unipolar moment,11 giving the world a chance to see just how dominant the American military really was. Although having nothing directly to do with Asia, the war’s implication for the region was grand. The DPG was projecting out to the turn of the century the need for a sizable, advanced military; it presupposed not just forward military presence but large, predictable military budgets for the foreseeable future. Downward pressure on the defense budget endured throughout the decade, but the Gulf War insulated the military superiority imperative from meaningful political challenge, in turn preserving the imbalance of power in Asia that took center stage in U.S. statecraft.

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Clinton’s Military Inertia The Clinton administration had positioned itself as the obvious contrast to Bush, and Clinton’s presidential campaign had derided the controversial DPG as “an excuse for big budgets instead of downsizing.”12 Indeed, in December 1992, one month before Clinton’s inauguration, one of his stated foreign policy aims was “the restructuring of U.S. military forces to reduce the cost of defense to the American people.”13 Yet, once in office, Clinton made the same military superiority wager toward Asia (and the world) that Bush had. This had much to do with the fact that military power had become an asset maintained by the bureaucracy. A chaotic policy environment with a president focused primarily on domestic politics and the economy empowered the machinery. If there was any novelty or different intellectual firmament in comparison to Bush, it was only in taking more seriously some of the liberal international-relations concepts popular at the time. In 1993, Clinton espoused a vision of where he wanted the United States and the world to go: “Our overriding purpose must be to expand and strengthen the world’s community of market-based democracies. . . . Now we seek to enlarge the circle of nations that live under those free institutions.”14 In the 1994 National Security Strategy (NSS), Clinton described a “New Pacific Community” linking “security requirements with economic realities, and our concern for democracy and human rights [in Asia].”15 But this liberal intellectualization of U.S. foreign policy was grafted onto the commitments Clinton inherited from Bush, which had at their center U.S. military superiority. In speeches Clinton gave in Japan and South Korea in 1993, he defined the first priority of a “New Pacific Community” as “a continued American military commitment to [Asia].”16 Moreover, the month after Clinton described his goal of “enlarging” the community of market democracies at the United Nations, the Pentagon released a report known as the “Bottom-Up Review”—a comprehensive accounting of everything the military did to cut functions superfluous to U.S. strategy.17 By his own admission, Secretary of Defense Les Aspin said the results were “a holding budget . . . treading water.”18 It did not

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call for killing any weapons systems or closing overseas bases beyond those called for by the independent Base Realignment and Closure Commission. Yet the conservative Heritage Foundation called the BottomUp Review a “charade” because it seemed to arbitrarily direct cuts to spending on everything from aircraft carriers to ballistic missile defense.19 But that was how dominant the United States was militarily, and how strong the imperative was to preserve its military lead. The United States could find $112 billion over five years to cut from the defense budget (reducing the size of the joint force by one-third compared to 1990),20 catch political flak for it, and still have a globally postured military without peer. It did this by introducing a new standard for bureaucratically benchmarking what dominance was: the “two war construct.” The Pentagon’s force planners determined that the United States needed to be able to prevail in two “major regional contingencies”—that is, full-scale wars in different theaters against regional-level adversaries in overlapping time frames. The adversaries it planned for were Iraq and North Korea, making each nation a leading geopolitical justification for the defense budget. Was all of this necessary for preserving the Asian peace in the 1990s? Yes and no. It signaled continuity to a region in flux, and there was no real option in the U.S. policy imagination to maintain forward presence in Asia without military superiority, and forward presence was crucial to stability. Yet measured purely by the requirements of warfighting, the United States had plenty of margin to further reduce the size of the military and the magnitude of its forward presence in Asia.21 After all, even after the defense cuts of the 1990s, the United States still spent “far more than all potential enemies combined” on the military.22 Consider too the role of U.S. hard power during two brief points when war was most likely in the 1990s—with North Korea in 1994 and with China across the Taiwan Strait in 1996. Had war occurred at either time, the United States would have prevailed, albeit at a high cost, with a much smaller force than the one the Bottom-Up Review established.23 In both instances too, reaching acceptable outcomes without using force had more to do with opportunistic diplomacy and risk aversion than the region’s imbalance of power, implying those

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outcomes would have remained peaceful even with less U.S. military capability in the region.24 Worse, during the North Korea crisis in particular, much of the risk of conflict was directly traceable to snap U.S. decisions to initiate a military buildup in and around the Korean Peninsula, which North Korea—having seen the U.S. way of war against Iraq—warned U.S. diplomats would trigger them to launch a preemptive war.25 In this way, seeking a dominant posture was itself a proximate risk to the Asian peace. On the other hand, taking into account regional elite perceptions, not just the numerical correlation of forces, deep defense cuts would have been a high-risk gambit because of how Asian governments pegged their strategies to even modest changes in U.S. signaling about its intentions. Asian elites had been captured by what might be understood as strategic dependency. In a revealing anecdote from 1991, Singapore’s foreign minister Wong Kan Seng urged National Security Adviser Brent Scowcroft “not to pull forces out of Subic Bay” in the Philippines for as long as possible. Scowcroft replied, “It would be a disaster if the bases close down,” to which Wong replied, “For us [Singapore], too.”26 Wong, representing a partner nation but not a U.S. ally, nevertheless worried that U.S. withdrawal from Southeast Asia would leave a vacuum, saying “Who knows what regional powers would enter into contention. This would be destabilizing.” Scowcroft reiterated the core assurance that he, Baker, and Cheney had offered repeatedly by this time, confirming, “We consider ourselves a Pacific Country. . . . We will keep some kind of balance in the region.”27 Wong was uncertain whether Singapore and other ASEAN members could sustain peaceful economic development without the United States anchored in the neighborhood. This sentiment was widely shared across Asia’s NICs. For allies other than the Philippines, America’s regional presence underwrote the credibility of U.S. commitments.28 For the nonallied countries, it permitted them to pursue eclectic hedging and orderbuilding strategies that alleviated arms-racing pressures and overreactions to the lingering triple fears of Vietnamese expansionism, Chinese imperialism, and Japanese nationalism.29 Little surprise, then, that when Assistant Secretary of Defense Joseph Nye concluded an Asia strategy review in 1995 (renewed in 1998) that

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affirmed no change in U.S. forward military presence, Asian political leaders and pundits breathed a sigh of relief.30 To the extent the “Nye Initiative” elicited criticism at all, it came almost entirely from commentators outside Asia.31 As a later critic of U.S. Asia strategy would observe in 1994, “U.S. presence and power [in Asia] remain the one constant, in an atmosphere of rapid strategic change and uncertainty, which provides any real assurance.”32 For those in Asia concerned with matters of strategy, the unipolar moment was indeed one of great uncertainty. The U.S. military presence reassured many. Military superiority was indeed excessive and inadvertently invited greater North Korean insecurities, leading to the country’s resolute pursuit of the ultimate weapon and subsequent crisis. But some military presence offered continuity—a psychic wage for regional strategists. In that historical moment, large withdrawals in a context of high geopolitical ambiguity would have at minimum risked forcing smaller Asian states to abandon their strategies of peaceful development and at worst created windows of opportunity for aggression or adventurism.

Alliances For Bush and Clinton, the U.S. alliance network co-constituted military superiority, not just because U.S. power underwrote alliance commitments but because alliances themselves were the ultimate form of power projection. Bush’s team attempted to popularize the United States as the “balancing wheel of Asia,” a concept that merged forward presence and allies.33 Clinton’s team made no innovations to the “balancing wheel” other than to rhetorically ensconce it in the frame of a “New Pacific Community,” which supplemented (not replaced) the idea of the wheel.34

Bush’s Balancing Wheel Although most of the Bush administration’s time would be spent negotiating and nurturing peaceful change in Europe, Asia was important enough that Bush made it his first trip abroad as president, in February 1989. Bush had a long and close relationship with the

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leadership in China before occupying the White House, but his presidency was of necessity concerned primarily and explicitly with preserving U.S. alliances in Asia as a source of peace. As Richard Solomon drily but concisely testified while in Bush’s State Department, “We maintain vital alliances that help stabilize the [Asian] peace.”35 The following year, Solomon’s boss, James Baker, wrote in Foreign Affairs this same statement of belief: “What has fostered stability and secured economic dynamism in East Asia for the past four decades is a loose network of bilateral alliances with the United States at its core . . . the balancing wheel.”36 The Pentagon echoed this as well in its 1990 and 1992 reports to Congress on East Asia. And in a trip to Tokyo in September 1991, Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney built on this belief, articulating six principles of U.S. Asia policy, all of which centered allies: • Assurance of American engagement in Asia and the Pacific. • A strong system of bilateral security arrangements. • Maintenance of modest but capable forward deployed U.S. forces. • Sufficient overseas base structure to support those forces. • Our Asian allies should assume greater responsibility for their own defense. • Complementary defense cooperation.37 The fifth principle—shifting the burden of defense responsibilities to allies—was a source of friction in all U.S. alliances that, in some instances, also elevated fears of U.S. abandonment. Everyone recognized there was downward pressure on the U.S. defense budget, and everyone worried how it would impact U.S. force posture and relationships in Asia. U.S.-Japan ties in particular were heavily strained under Bush, both because U.S. officials and Congress continued to view Japan as an “economic competitor” and because the United States continued to squeeze Japan for greater global security contributions—especially in support of the Gulf War. Had the Japanese stock market not crashed in 1990, initiating a “lost decade” of economic malaise, it is conceivable that the perceived economic threat from Japan would have outweighed the strategic benefits of the alliance.38

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But the Bush administration took a number of holding actions to avoid fatal blows to its relationships. In 1991 it negotiated fiveyear cost-sharing agreements with Japan and South Korea—the two most important Asian allies both in rhetoric and for the purposes of forward presence. Not only did the five-year terms reduce the frequency of disagreements and introduce mechanisms for dispute management; it minimized (though did not eliminate) opportunities for policy makers in Washington, Seoul, and Tokyo to politicize alliance issues. The multiyear commitment was also the best form of reassurance Washington could offer that it intended to preserve a U.S.-centric status quo order, which was Bush’s raison d’être. U.S. officials also took pains to manage ally perceptions of required budget cuts and troop reductions. They continued to stress the foundational nature of the U.S.-Japan alliance to the “balancing wheel” concept, describing it as the “central support” of Asia’s new architecture, even as bilateral ties remained fraught.39 With South Korea, U.S. officials mostly deferred to Seoul for handling the emerging North Korean nuclear problem while also delinking troop levels as an indicator of deterrence commitment. As rapprochement talks between North and South Korea proceeded in 1991, James Baker explained to South Korea’s president, Roh Taewoo, that the United States would subordinate U.S. North Korea policy to the ongoing North-South talks, but that “our security commitment and interests give us a big say, too.”40 On the heels of that trip, Baker told Cheney that he agreed the United States ought to prevent “a linkage between our force levels [in South Korea] and the North’s [nuclear] program,” which they did in subsequent meetings with the Koreans.41 With Japan and South Korea, the United States proactively managed the fallout from “peace dividend” cuts by making them as predictable and transparent as possible—no surprises—and by finding ways beyond counting boots on the ground to increase alliance entanglement and decrease alliance frictions. The Gulf War also proved an inadvertent boon to America’s Asian allies. A State Department cable at the time reported favorable impressions from the region, noting that the war “reaffirmed U.S. willingness and ability to come to the aid of friends abroad, a great reassurance . . . and

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a useful reminder to the few others who may have been looking for strategic options.”42 But it was also under Bush that the United States started a thirty-year habit of neglecting the Pacific Islands as part of the Asia-Pacific. In what amounted to strategic outsourcing, U.S. officials made clear that Australia was a valued ally not least because it could serve as a proxy for U.S. interests in Oceania. James Baker explained the virtues of Australia as “an honest broker and catalyst of development in the South Pacific,” “an important bridge to New Zealand,” and an influencer in the Cambodian peace process.43 Relying on a friendly intermediary to represent U.S. interests freed up policy maker bandwidth for the “frontline” states of East Asia, though with the consequence that the Pacific Islands receded from America’s geopolitical thinking, receiving little in the way of time, attention, or resources. In fairness, the unipolar moment was an era when the United States enjoyed utter dominance of the subregion, and the Soviet threat to Pacific Island nations was of course no longer an issue. Nonetheless there was a certain irony in a selfconceived Pacific power orienting statecraft not toward the Pacific but beyond it. The biggest alliance-based risk to the Asian peace under Bush was in the Philippines, where the United States preserved the outer shell of its ties to the democratically elected Aquino government but was forced to withdraw its footholds at Clark Air Base and Subic Bay, which up to that point had been America’s most important locations in the region. The eruption of Mount Pinatubo in June 1991 covered Clark Air Base in ash and made the cost of remedy too high to be worthwhile to the U.S. Air Force. But this had nothing directly to do with the naval withdrawal from Subic Bay, a locale portrayed as crucial for U.S. maritime strategy at the time.44 Richard Armitage led the Bush administration’s negotiations with the Philippines for how much the United States would provide in aid and compensation as part of upholding their Mutual Defense Treaty. Although the United States enjoyed pockets of popularity in the Philippines, a strand of anticolonial resentment intermingled with the democratic populism of the moment, and it was stridently anti-American. Worsening the friction of burdensharing negotiations were Armitage’s brusque character and the

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stinginess of the U.S. negotiating position. If ever America had an obligation to the global South, surely it was to its own first colony. But no: Bush shared the Reagan team’s view that the United States owed nothing in particular to the Third World, and America’s history of imperialism in the Philippines did not change that—hence the anti-Americanism in the Philippines’ politics. After the Aquino government finally persuaded Armitage to agree to an acceptable level of funding, the Filipino Senate narrowly rejected the package anyway, failing to renew its basing agreement with the United States on a vote of twelve to eleven.45 U.S. troops were required to evacuate Subic Bay and Clark Air Base by the end of 1992, which they did, shifting the functions at Subic Bay mostly to Guam and Singapore. The Pentagon reported that the “departure from the Philippines has raised . . . questions marked by uncertainty and anxiety about whether the U.S. is disengaging from the region and what this would mean,”46 but the timing made the possible fallout an issue for Bush’s successor.

Clinton’s New Pacific Community The Clinton administration’s assertion that “the important and often neglected reasons for East Asia’s success are American alliances in the region and the continued presence of substantial U.S. forces” could have been copied and pasted from Bush.47 Yet initially Clinton was not exactly beloved by America’s Asian allies, because his administration’s positions were somewhat inconsistent and unpredictable. Clinton’s national security agenda was also extremely eclectic: nuclear proliferation, failed-state prevention, religious and ethnic conflict, and terrorism, among others (for a time even democratization was a national defense priority!). Alliances were tools for addressing this wide-ranging set of problems. Initially, however, North Korea was the primary real-world justification for U.S. alliances in Asia—the only country it named as a threat—which was thin and not entirely validating of the 100,000-strong troop presence in the region.48 It was in this era that liberal and constructivist international-relations theorists were developing theories to explain the durability of alliances after the original threat giving rise to them disappears.49 Not coincidentally,

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this was the same circumstance in which America found itself in the 1990s. Clinton’s decisive embrace of Asian alliances came with the Nye Initiative, the 1995 and 1998 reports detailing the American theory of security in East Asia. The logic put forward in those reports was not entirely novel, reasoning that ally “cooperation is necessary to deter potential threats, counter regional aggression . . . monitor attempts of proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, and help protect sea lines of communication.”50 The reports also explained that forward presence in ally territory was operationally necessary to respond to crises in a timely manner. But it was the lack of substantive novelty—the fact that this differed little from the alliance rationales in the 1990 East Asia strategy statements or the Base Force concept—that made the reports a largely bipartisan rallying cry for a risk-avoidant status quo. The Nye Initiative was also popular among Asian policy elites because it promised the kind of predictability that enabled national economic strategies in the region. This was by design. The 1995 report had an entire section rationalizing “America’s permanent interests” in Asian security.51 Nye and his deputy, Kurt Campbell (who would become the architect for President Obama’s Asia strategy), made sure that America’s friends could “base their defense planning on a reliable security guarantee.” And even for nonallies, “United States military presence provides a sound foundation for economic growth in the Asia-Pacific region.”52 It was an explicit U.S. acknowledgment of what allies and Asia’s NICs wanted the United States to believe, locking in the broad contours of two decades of fairly uncontentious U.S. Asia strategy. It also helped kill the force posture reductions that had been planned for Asia. Most important from the perspective of staving off war, the Nye Initiative formed the basis for improved ties to Japan and South Korea at a time when Seoul was looking for greater policy independence and the U.S. relationship with Tokyo was rocky and in need of revitalization.53 The 1994 North Korean nuclear crisis was only resolved because of outside intervention by former president Jimmy Carter, resulting in a handshake agreement with Kim Il Sung that the Clinton administration ultimately concluded as the Agreed Framework in October 1994. The Agreed Framework

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was the off-ramp from war, bottling up North Korea’s nuclear program and keeping the peninsula stable for the remainder of Clinton’s presidency. Japan and South Korea were essential to that deal because its key terms included the construction of light-water nuclear reactors for civilian energy use in North Korea. Because the Republican-controlled Congress of the Clinton era refused to fund the reactors, Japan and South Korea were left to fund them to keep the Agreed Framework alive.54 The United States established two bodies with Seoul and Tokyo: the Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group (TCOG) and the Korean Peninsula Energy Development Organization (KEDO) to coordinate North Korea policy and implementation of funding for the light-water reactors. These institutional mechanisms, which temporarily brought together erstwhile antagonists, cooled the hottest flash point in East Asia in the 1990s.

Great-Power Détente The Bush and Clinton administrations preserved détente with China but altered its basic terms. Both were somewhat aloof of China’s domestic circumstances, finding political convenience in proselytizing about what James Mann called the “China Fantasy”—the expectation that engaging China and integrating it into the world would transform the Middle Kingdom into a market democracy.55

Bush Rescues China President Bush—whom staff saw as “the government’s desk officer for China”—personally remade détente into “engagement.”56 James Baker, who “had wanted nothing to do with China in the first place,” admitted that “very few [China] policy initiatives were generated either by State or the National Security Council Staff” out of deference to the president.57 But Bush did not speak Mandarin and had exposure to high-level CCP figures, not the public. The elite character of his personal experience and connections to China led him to be caught off guard by the rising sea of studentled protests in his first months in office. He also did not expect

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Deng Xiaoping to initiate martial law or the subsequent killing of thousands of protesters on June 3, 1989, in and around Tiananmen Square.58 In 1989, China was experiencing the dramatic societal imbalances that came from economic “reform and opening” to the West over the prior decade. By the mid-1980s, the rising costs of living, especially in the cities, gave rise to popular feelings that the government was not upholding its obligations.59 Dissatisfaction in turn led to growing civic protests in which students and workers joined forces to oppose corruption and inequality. The rise of domestic unrest in response to Deng Xiaoping’s reforms strengthened the hands of his conservative opponents, who pointed to the protests as evidence that the CCP could not flirt with “bourgeois liberalization” and still hold on to the country.60 The communist old guard pushed simultaneously to reverse the slide into liberal decadence and take a hard line against protesters agitating for democratic change.61 After the Tiananmen Square massacre, China entered a brief hermit period in which it tried desperately to shape the global narrative about what exactly had happened and why. Deng and the CCP leadership found themselves in the strange position of having to exercise an iron fist at home and buck international calls for reform while shoring up access to the international lending and investment that fueled its economic engine. China did not fully come out of its reputational hole until after Deng’s “Southern Tour” of 1991, where he threw his soft power behind a decisive reopening of China.62 Bush was crucial to China’s international rehabilitation and, less directly, Deng’s ability to ultimately thwart the designs of China’s most conservative party leaders and the PLA. The crackdown on protesters at Tiananmen Square sharpened the choice facing the United States—between putting the weight of U.S. influence behind Chinese society or behind the CCP leaders with whom Bush had cultivated close ties over the years. Bush chose the latter. With the world aghast at Beijing’s brutal suppression of democracy, Bush was forced to temporarily impose economic sanctions, end America’s decade-long practice of arms sales to China, suspend Sino-U.S. defense diplomacy, and block China from receiving funds from international financial institutions (China was the

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World Bank’s largest borrower at the time).63 But Bush would reverse most of these measures within a year. Because there was no Soviet enemy to balance against, the United States was already hunting for an updated modus vivendi for its strategic relationship with China. Tiananmen only made that search more urgent. Without the Soviets, Henry Kissinger had floated the idea that the United States needed close ties to China as a hedge against Japanese power—a wild-eyed idea that Bush briefly flirted with.64 Ultimately Bush’s answer to the détente question was engagement. The deputy secretary of state Lawrence Eagleburger testified in 1990 that “we shall seek to preserve the linkages we have painstakingly forged with China over the past 20 years . . . that can move its society toward reform. . . . Steps taken by us that lead to the isolation of China simply play into the hands of the wrong people in Beijing.”65 Versions of this statement would be repeated over and over again, primarily by the State Department but also other parts of the executive branch when it suited. Because the dawning of the unipolar moment was also the cresting of the neoliberal moment in Washington, liberalization optimism about China had become conventional wisdom. Even Winston Lord, the former U.S. ambassador to China under Reagan who had become estranged from President Bush, now predicted that liberalization was “inevitable” and that “there will be a more moderate, humane government in Beijing” in a matter of years.66 Not only did Bush restore economic ties to China; he helped improve its reputation in the developed world. His engage-to-liberalize belief gave political cover to America’s liberal democratic friends in Asia—Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and South Korea—all of whom replicated Bush’s wager. Bush renewed China’s Most Favored Nation (MFN) trading status the year after Tiananmen.67 He vetoed congressional legislation that would have upset Beijing because it granted Chinese students studying in the United States the same legal protections as others. And after Tiananmen, Bush continued to encourage other countries and international financial institutions (IFIs) to support—rather than isolate or punish—China for human rights violations. Baker and the State Department lobbied the G7 countries to ensure that “basic human needs is the appropriate standard for multilateral development bank loans to China” rather than

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prohibiting transactions because of domestic repression. And in meeting with Japanese prime minister Toshiki Kaifu on July 8, 1990, Bush also encouraged Tokyo to resume its own suspended “Third Yen Loan Program” to China in 1991 to keep pace with the World Bank’s reengagement, which it was undertaking at U.S. urging.68 Taking cues from Bush, the State Department struck a note publicly that it sought to “balance our outrage at the repression with our national interest in engagement. . . . It is not in our interest to see China return to a ‘spoiler role’ in Asia. . . . A modernizing China at peace with itself and its neighbors is critical to stability in East Asia.”69 In the longer term, though, the State Department now argued that “continuing economic, cultural, and other contacts [are] designed to encourage a return to reform.”70

Clinton Bets on Chinese Liberalization Liberal optimist expectations about China reflected Clinton’s “Third Way” project of mainstreaming neoliberal economic policies within the Democratic Party.71 It was also the political path of least resistance. If Bush could grant renewed MFN status to China and promote trade ties after the PLA had murdered thousands of protesters, then Clinton had wide political latitude to continue in the same direction, which fit nicely with his business-friendly policy agenda. In his confirmation hearing as Clinton’s assistant secretary of state for East Asia and the Pacific in 1993, Winston Lord promised to basically continue the engagement policies of Bush, assessing that “the Chinese leaders are gambling that open economics and closed politics will preserve their system of control. It is a gamble that, sooner or later, will be lost. Economic reform produces—and requires—political reform.”72 The 1994 NSS said the U.S. engagement approach would “facilitate China’s development of a more open, market economy that accepts international trade practices.”73 And in the final year of his presidency, Clinton spoke to an audience at the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies and extolled the liberal promise of continuing to integrate China into the globalizing world, claiming, “The more China liberalizes its economy, the more fully it will liberate the

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potential of its people.”74 It was a direct rebuttal to arguments that China should be economically isolated, if not from the international community, then at least from the WTO. To be sure, several potential détente derailments occurred in the Clinton era. Democrats in Congress, as well as some neoconservatives, introduced legislation and issued public rebukes condemning China’s human rights violations and unfair labor practices, which were a recurring agitation in the bilateral relationship. In 1996, moreover, the PLA and U.S. military found themselves in a brief confrontation over Taiwanese autonomy that involved China firing M-9 nuclear-capable missiles that landed in the vicinity of Taiwan’s two main ports, Kaohsiung and Chilung. Some reports suggest that China also quietly issued a nuclear threat, while Secretary of Defense William Perry and National Security Adviser Tony Lake warned counterparts directly of “grave consequences” should Chinese missiles actually strike Taiwanese territory.75 And in 1999, a U.S.-led NATO operation accidentally bombed China’s embassy in Belgrade as part of an attack on target in Yugoslavia, triggering a wave of angry protests in China. But engagement and integration not only matched the liberal rhetoric of Clinton’s national security policy; they were far better for the U.S. economy’s growth, which trumped just about every other foreign policy consideration. Consequently the growth of U.S. economic ties to China exploded. U.S. trade with China in 1992 totaled $33.1 billion. By Clinton’s final year in office, the figure had more than tripled, to $116.2 billion.76 Despite a lot of earlier hot rhetoric to the contrary, by 1994 the United States had formally made a “decision to delink China’s Most Favored Nation status from its record on human rights.”77 Clinton also granted China Permanent Normal Trade Relations status in the final months of his presidency (eliminating the annual renewal requirement of MFN status) and concluded negotiations for China’s entry into the World Trade Organization the year after he left office. But Sino-U.S. engagement was holistic, not limited to trade and investment. Secretary of Defense William Perry—who had conducted Track 2 diplomacy with China throughout the 1980s—reestablished the U.S. military relationship with China with a visit to Beijing in October 1994. State Department officials held recurring negotiations to convince China to join the Mis-

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sile Technology Control Regime (MTCR, which would limit the proliferation of missile technology), leading not to China joining MTCR but to China twice expressing its intent to comply with MTCR’s terms and occasionally restraining its own missile transfers. And after the Taiwan Strait crisis in 1996, National Security Adviser Tony Lake sat down with Liu Huaqiu to establish a “strategic relationship” with China—by which he basically meant one grounded in collaboration and preventive diplomacy—recognizing that coercive diplomacy was “no way to run one of the pivotal relationships on the planet Earth.”78 Engagement made a difference. Because of its ties to the Khmer Rouge leadership, China played an important role in ending the conflict between Vietnam and Cambodia. China stayed wedded to the “peaceful rise” narrative about its own foreign policy, seeking to appear a good neighbor.79 It opened trade ties with Taiwan and normalized diplomatic relations with Indonesia and Singapore in 1990, with Vietnam in 1991, and with South Korea in 1992. It reached an important agreement with India in 1996 to prohibit the use of firearms within roughly a mile of the disputed Line of Actual Control—a decision that helped prevent a Sino-Indian war in 2020.80 And it did not resist U.S. entreaties to allow Taiwan and Hong Kong participation in the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation meetings. China also restricted some missile and nuclear proliferation activities in response to U.S. engagement and occasionally collaborated with the United States on North Korea policy.81 And after the Asian financial crisis in 1997 (discussed hereafter), the economic rise of China increasingly became the basis for Asia’s deepening economic interdependence. All of this enriched the Asian peace in the 1990s, and none of it would have been likely if the United States had broken off engagement with China.

Regionalism and Economic Interdependence Because a great deal of regional practices and institutions in the 1990s were tied up in economic flows, there is no reasonable way to tell the story of either regionalism or economic interdependence in this period except together. Notably, Bush and Clinton most diverged from each other on these two sources of the Asian peace.

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Neglecting Regionalism and Interdependence Despite being committed to the free market in principle, Bush’s team spared little thought for Asian institutions or economic interdependence generally, and certainly not as a basis for peace. James Baker somewhat euphemistically characterized the administration’s attitude toward regional architecture as not “locking ourselves in to an overly structured approach” while also lecturing that regionalism’s “form should follow function”—the latter proposition would seem to contradict preemptively foreclosing any particular approach.82 That logical tension arose because, as with Reagan, Bush treated regionalism as a peripheral issue and a potential threat if it in any way encumbered American freedom of action in Asia. There was a latent fear of rules somehow coming at America’s expense. As such, Bush, like Reagan, embraced the regional preference for informal diplomacy while seeking to make regional institutions vehicles for rectifying the U.S. balance of trade with the region, opening Asian markets, and deregulating Asian economies. The one serious investment made in regionalism in the Bush era was the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), a transPacific dialogue of finance and trade ministers launched in 1989. Bush saw APEC’s value as “advancing global and regional trade liberalization and for meeting the new challenges of interdependence.”83 U.S. observers over the years have been sensitive to the fact that Australia had excluded the United States from its original concept for APEC, but have also entirely lacked self-awareness about why it was not initially included—the prevailing perception of the United States under both Reagan and Bush as opponents of multilateralism. The Asian-security scholar William Tow had a diagnosis that was common at the time: “Washington’s continued (even rigid) insistence that multilateral dialogue could not even supplement, much less replace, existing bilateral defense treaties with Asian allies. . . . The Bush administration’s resistance to supporting multilateral security approaches to Asia-Pacific security emanated from a fundamental reluctance to abandon the realist postures which dominated Washington’s outlook.”84 Baker admitted as much in his 1991 commentary on regional architecture, but with rhetoric that obscured the basic point that Tow emphasized:

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the “Asian way” in whatever form had to be politically neutered and serve U.S. economic interests. Only then would “greater regional cohesion” be tolerable. APEC was attractive to the Bush administration because it was narrowly economic, not impinging on U.S. security wagers. It was on this basis that the United States killed indigenous proposals for exclusively Asian institutions, such as the East Asia Economic Group. Malaysia’s prime minister Mahathir Mohamad started lobbying for an “Asia for Asians” regional institution in the late 1980s, but the United States—largely through Japan and Australia at the time—staunchly opposed any form of regionalism that did not have the United States as a member.85 After ASEAN agreed to participate in APEC—making it the largest institution by membership in Asia—Mohamad reacted by pushing forward with a formal proposal for an ethnically East Asian grouping in 1990 and 1991. Staying true to ASEAN’s anticolonial origin, he opposed empowering an institution that would rival ASEAN centrality and included “Western” influence. But the State Department rejected the proposal and implored Australia and Japan to do the same,86 which was partly what prompted Baker to publish his explainer in Foreign Affairs about the Bush administration’s attitude toward regional architecture—to stake out a reactive, status-quo-oriented position on regionalism in positive, hopeful phraseology. In a sense, then, U.S. support for APEC came at the expense of other potential forms of regionalism that it stopped from coming to fruition,87 and APEC itself would be shaped and steered in a particular U.S.-centric manner after Bush left office.88 The one crucial and tangible way in which Asian regionalism mattered in this era beyond economic interdependence was in settling the Cambodian conflict, which permitted the eventual expansion of the ASEAN security community. The Bush administration did little to bring about the Cambodia settlement beyond supporting UN Security Council endorsement of peacekeepers to help transition Vietnamese forces out and an elected government in. The initiative for peace lay mainly with ASEAN, which had spent the 1980s working toward a solution that would reinstitute Cambodian sovereignty while preventing either Chinese or Vietnamese hegemony in Southeast Asia.89 Beyond ASEAN, it was not the

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United States but the United Nations (and Vietnam’s willingness to compromise in light of the region’s new post-Soviet reality) that brought an end to the conflict.90 For all the U.S. interventions to prevent Asian regionalism from cohering without the United States, it was the regional institution that excluded America— ASEAN—that did the most to bring about peace in Cambodia.

Clinton’s Neoliberal Regionalism To the same extent that the Bush administration stood guard against regionalism, the Clinton administration sought to control it. Institutionalized multilateralism was a theme of Clinton’s National Security Strategy—a crucial means of “engagement and enlargement”—but in a context where the United States retained and primarily still relied on military superiority and U.S. alliances as the basis for what G. John Ikenberry would later describe as liberal hegemony. Joe Nye, while serving as assistant secretary of defense, summarized that “regional institutions . . . are not designed to supplant or unify American alliances but rather to be a confidence-building measure for the region. . . . They are to complement American alliance leadership, not replace it.”91 Nye explicitly contrasted the Clinton administration’s wager on regional institutions with the Bush-era rejection of them by citing the open skepticism toward regionalism expressed in Bush’s 1990 East Asia Strategic Initiative report.92 Clinton did center U.S. statecraft more on regional architecture and practices than his predecessors, but his policies did demonstrate substantial continuities too. Like Bush, Clinton bet on APEC first and foremost (though he also extended ritual support to the ASEAN Regional Forum, CSCAP, and other nonintrusive institutions). But where APEC was left to the State Department in 1989, Clinton elevated its legitimacy by proposing and then hosting the first leader-level APEC summit in Seattle in 1993, which set a new precedent both for the institution and for U.S. presidents. That Clinton personally had a spotty track record of attending subsequent APEC summits mattered less to APEC’s standing in the region than how the Clinton administration attempted to commandeer it.

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Clinton used regionalism to pursue an agenda of trade liberalization and industry deregulation. APEC’s members contested its scope and ambition from the outset, and debates lingered into the 1990s about the extent to which APEC should be fostering a communal identity, promoting trade liberalization, or harmonizing economic policies.93 Clinton’s priority for APEC—and by extension the priority for regionalism—was to further the advance of economic globalization in Asia, as long as the United States remained woven into its fabric. To that end, U.S. delegates to APEC spent most of their political capital on trying to make it a venue for negotiating trade liberalization on the grounds that, as Secretary of State Warren Christopher declared, “Asia’s markets must be open to America’s goods and services”—a traditional priority of U.S. administrations stretching back to the nineteenth century.94 Clinton succeeded in securing numerous nonbinding statements on economic reform, and APEC did facilitate growing regional economic interdependence. But most Asian governments resisted calls to abandon their economic sovereignty. Even Japan rejected U.S. lobbying for “Early Voluntary Sectoral Liberalization” at the 1997 APEC summit in Vancouver.95 Several Asian governments actually worried that APEC itself might be a back door to U.S. domination.96 While the Clinton administration made an art of exploiting multilateral institutions as a tool of statecraft on behalf of corporate (rather than labor) interests, it also emulated Reagan and Bush by not simply opposing but preventing the creation of ecosystems that would not have granted the United States membership. When Clinton addressed the first summit-level APEC meeting in Seattle in 1993, he stated sharply, “We do not intend to bear the cost of our military presence in Asia and the burdens of regional leadership only to be shut out of the benefits that growth and stability brings.”97 That attitude toward economic regionalism would alter the pattern of Asian international relations once it intersected with the Asian financial crisis, which was as much a crisis of confidence in economic governance as it was a technical balance-of-payments problem. In early July 1997, the Thai government lost the ability to defend the value of its currency because of overexposure to speculative foreign capital flows. The crash of the Thai baht triggered a

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financial contagion across Asia that most acutely affected Indonesia and South Korea but dampened the economic output of the entire region. Initially ASEAN and APEC (and the United States) failed to coordinate a response adequate to the task of stanching the crisis, leaving Thailand to turn to the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for help. Over the next year, the IMF structured more than $100 billion in bailout funds for affected countries, but with onerous terms that included fiscal austerity, high interest rates, forced bankruptcies, and looser capital restrictions.98 Partly to stave off another crisis and partly as a response to Asia’s anti-IMF, anti-Western attitudes at the time, in September 1997, Japan’s Ministry of Finance proposed an Asian Monetary Fund (AMF) that would have increased regional economic integration by providing access to liquidity that would mitigate the kind of shock-volatility spirals that produced the crisis in the first place.99 But when Deputy Treasury Secretary Larry Summers heard of the AMF initiative, he phoned Sakakibara Eisuke (his counterpart at the Ministry of Finance) to suggest the AMF betrayed the United States, declaring, “I thought you were my friend!”100 Three days later, Robert Rubin, the treasury secretary, called his Japanese counterpart to formally express opposition to the AMF. He also cosigned a letter with Alan Greenspan to the APEC finance ministers imploring them to oppose the AMF.101 The United States did not want a multilateral institution that would subvert or supplant the influence of the IMF, which at the time the United States dominated. By the end of the year, Japan had killed the AMF idea “for fear of undermining the bilateral alliance.”102 Also that year, Malaysia’s prime minister again pushed the East Asia Economic Caucus (EAEC) idea that would have excluded the United States. The Clinton administration used its influence with Japan and Australia to oppose the EAEC,103 but the would-be institution had bigger problems that prevented it from taking shape anyway. The EAEC planned to make Japan the leader, which made much of the region uncomfortable because of Japan’s imperial legacy, and planned to exclude Australia and Oceania. From the standpoint of economic integration, the EAEC would have tied East Asian countries closer together, but to the exclusion of Australia and the United States, which made the EAEC look like an institution

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formed on racial grounds. In actuality, the EAEC was the last gasp in a struggle over the very essence of Asian regionalism—whether it would emphasize inclusivity and informalism or the anticolonial identity that gave rise to those norms in the first place. With U.S. and Australian nudging, it chose the former. Anticolonialism was being overtaken by globalization. America was doing what it could to make sure of it. The basic idea of the EAEC lived on in the creation of ASEAN+3 (China, Japan, South Korea), but stripped of the racial and anticolonial baggage that Mohamad had attached to it (for instance, ASEAN+3 eventually admitted Australia and New Zealand in addition to India). It is difficult to label the United States hero, villain, or bystander in relation to Asia’s economic volatility and recovery; true to the Pacific power paradox, it appeared as all of these at different points. The crisis—which was a short-term blow to economic interdependence—had come about partly because of U.S. policies. The U.S. Treasury Department coordinated and advocated for the IMF’s much-maligned “shock therapy”—intrusive austerity measures—even as the Clinton administration was slow to respond to the crisis, offering no monetary help initially and assuming the fallout would be contained to Asia. But America’s role in the crisis was much deeper than cavalier neglect. Clinton personally intervened with a reluctant Indonesian president Suharto to convince him to accept the IMF’s imposing bailout terms, end fuel subsidies, close banks, and raise interest rates—all of which had destabilizing consequences for Indonesian politics (and Suharto himself) shortly after implementation.104 Structurally, moreover, the United States had worked hard to bring about the conditions that made the crisis possible. In the early 1990s, the U.S. economy was climbing out of recession, and the U.S. Federal Reserve began raising interest rates to stave off inflation. Higher U.S. interest rates, combined with weakening Chinese and Japanese currencies (which resulted directly from U.S. pressure on China and Japan respectively to weaken them) squeezed Asia’s NICs—especially Thailand, Indonesia, and South Korea, but also to an extent the Philippines and Malaysia. The appreciation of the U.S. dollar because of higher interest rates diverted investment from Southeast Asia (and South Korea),

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made it more expensive for Asian economies to maintain currency pegs to the U.S. dollar, and undermined the export-based growth strategies of Asian economies by escalating prices of Asian exports. And the economies most affected during the crisis were those that had done the most to implement the “Washington Consensus”— policies of deregulation and minimal capital interference. The United States had spent two decades prodding Asian governments not only to open themselves to outside trade but simultaneously to reduce governmental controls on capital—thus allowing for heightened volatility—which played a large role in precipitating the crisis.105 The crisis ended in 1998 not only because of IMF bailout packages but also because the U.S. Federal Reserve lowered interest rates on borrowing specifically to encourage capital to flow back to Asia—a decision that significantly aided a quick recovery.106 The United States also partnered with Japan to extend a combined $10 billion aid package to the region. And Clinton and Larry Summers had intervened with the IMF in late 1997 to approve the relief packages for Indonesia, Thailand, and South Korea. In the long run, the experience of the crisis did have the effect of further thickening Asian economic interdependence, but in an unintended sort of way. Resentment toward the IMF, combined with perceptions that America’s hand was ultimately steering APEC, accentuated the need for the region both to rely less on the United States and “Western” IFIs more generally and to improve cooperation among Asian governments themselves. Consequently the next several years after the crisis saw the region taking greater control of its own fate, launching the Asian Bond Market Initiative, the Chiang Mai Initiative for intraregional currency swapping, the ASEAN Surveillance Process to monitor financial changes in the region, the ASEAN+3 Economic Review and Policy Dialogue to coordinate national policy decisions, and the first ever trilateral economic summit involving the unlikely convergence of China, Japan, and South Korea. All these new arrangements stitched the region closer together, and the United States was not a direct stakeholder in any of them. A different kind of shift in the region’s economic order also followed the financial crisis. By 1992, China had normalized

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relations with the entire region save Taiwan, making it possible to cultivate economic relations with everyone including Taiwan. Asia benefited from China climbing out of its post-Tiananmen isolation and resuming its “miracle” economic growth, but the proportion of regional trade from China in the 1990s was still considerably lower than that of either the United States or Japan. After the crisis, however, Asia’s NICs were starting to orient their economic strategies more toward China. It was politically reasonable to forge bilateral economic interdependencies with China, given that even Washington was massively expanding trade with Beijing. And China’s declaration in the midst of the Asian financial crisis that it would not weaken its currency aided perceptions that China was a stable, responsible anchor of economic affairs. With new regional formations beginning to exclude the United States, Japan’s economy still slumping, and Asian governments ready to hitch themselves to China’s rapid rise, a new pattern took hold: the United States remained central to the security calculations of most Asian policy makers, yet U.S. economic centrality was increasingly waning in favor of China. The result was a “dual hierarchy” in which individual Asian states hedged by heavily engaging China economically because U.S. security commitments in the region alleviated the need to worry too much about China’s growing power.107

Democracy and Good Governance Democracy peaked in Asia during the long unipolar moment. South Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines became consolidated democracies, China showed signs that it might entertain political reform, the Asian financial crisis unseated a thirty-year dictatorship in Indonesia, the United Nations was facilitating democratization in Cambodia, and the region’s remaining dictators (save in North Korea) were being further integrated into the global capitalist economy. The economic stability to which the United States contributed for most of the 1990s eased what might otherwise have been tumultuous democratic transitions for a number of countries. Beyond this, America’s emphasis on democracy was mostly speech acts and accidents.

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Bush’s Realist Romanticism Because Bush’s priority was stability above all else, he avoided disrupting U.S. relations with Asia’s autocracies and continued indirectly underwriting them. Indeed, as a newly democratic Philippine legislature voted to kick out U.S. troops from their country in 1991 after a century there, the Bush administration came to rely more on nondemocracies like Singapore and Indonesia for U.S. forward presence in Southeast Asia.108 There was thus no naming and shaming, and no threats to cut off aid or bilateral ties because of election irregularities, corruption, or human rights abuses. The apparent exception—which proved to be no exception at all—was China. China represented Bush’s largest opportunity to, if not advance democratic reform in Asia, at least show that the United States stood with people seeking freedom from oppression and corruption, rather than with elites doing the oppressing. We cannot know how or whether China’s post-Tiananmen trajectory might have been different had Bush intervened differently, but as James Mann noted, America would never again have such great leverage with Chinese leadership as it did in the year after the Tiananmen Square massacre.109 Instead of realizing that leverage and putting it to work, Bush bent over backward to normalize global perceptions of China, blunting the consequences that Deng Xiaoping and the CCP faced for staying on the path of illiberalism. Even before the Tiananmen Square massacre on June 3, 1989, Bush had established a position on China that elevated the bilateral relationship above any particular purpose. This was evident in his first visit to China as president a few months before the massacre, during which he never raised any human rights or democratic reform issues.110 This is not to say that the administration was indifferent; Bush’s State Department issued reports on human rights that mentioned even China,111 and statements by Bush and Baker in particular contain no shortage of generalized pro-democracy rhetoric.112 But it was simply not part of how the administration went about dealing with China or propping up Asian stability. A series of declassified documents depicting the Bush administration’s response and internal thinking after Tiananmen reveal not

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only that Bush sought to protect the U.S. relationship with China amid immense political pressure at home, but also that Bush was both obsequious to Deng and fairly dispassionate in his response to the brutality of the massacre.113 After video footage of the Tiananmen crackdown went viral, Bush tried calling and writing his old friend Deng, but Deng refused to answer. Frustrated by Beijing’s silence, and counseled by Richard Nixon “Don’t disrupt the relationship”114 in spite of overwhelming public sentiment to do precisely that, Bush then secretly sent National Security Adviser Brent Scowcroft to China the month after the crackdown started. Scowcroft’s mission was to reassure CCP leaders that Bush would try to make U.S. sanctions temporary, and that the United States did not wish to jeopardize its relationship with Beijing, even while his administration continued publicly condemning the massacre.115 It must have been tremendous comfort to hard-liners wary of the consequences of their repression to have Bush’s national security adviser telling them that “how [China] decides to deal with those of its citizens involved in recent events in China is, of course, an internal affair.”116 Deng had the gall to tell Scowcroft that the protests were America’s fault, and that “it is up to . . . the person [who tied] the knot to untie the knot. Our hope is . . . the United States will seek to untie the knot.”117 Deng urged the United States to find ways to silence Congress, the media, and the public rather than intervene in Chinese politics. While the U.S. government and the rest of the world were publicly rebuking China, Scowcroft’s private message to Deng had almost nothing to say about human rights or political reform.118 A woolly sentimentality about China permeated Bush’s thinking and is evident in the secret envoy of reassurance, his muted public condemnations for Chinese human rights abuses, and his reversals of U.S. punishments within a year of the incident. Bush also wrote a letter to Deng after Scowcroft’s clandestine trip, saying that he intervened with the G7 to water down their condemnation of China and prevented the group from taking further punitive actions.119 Bush justified all of this, as well as subsequent measures to improve China’s image abroad, on transformational grounds. Trying to cool the righteous anger of the public by reframing everything, Bush said, “I am convinced that the forces of

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democracy are going to overcome these unfortunate events at Tiananmen Square. . . . As people have commercial incentive, whether it’s in China or in other totalitarian systems, the move to democracy becomes more inexorable.”120 Bush’s great liberal wager formed the basis not only for continuing to engage with China but also for rehabilitating it.

Clinton’s Word-Deed Mismatch on Democracy The Clinton administration clearly thought it was wagering on democracy as part of its statecraft in a way that past U.S. presidencies did not. Speaking before the recently democratic Korean National Assembly in 1993, Clinton laid out a plain endorsement of classical democratic peace theory in Asia: “Our final security priority must be to support the spread of democracy throughout the Asian Pacific. Democracies not only are more likely to meet the needs and respect the rights of their people, they also make better neighbors.”121 And in 1994, Clinton identified democracy promotion as the third pillar of a global national security strategy wedded to the proposition that “the more that democracy and political and economic liberalization take hold . . . the safer our nation is likely to be.”122 The immense amount of both rhetorical and internal consideration given to issues of democracy and human rights bespeaks their importance for Clinton’s foreign policy. This was so much the case that in November 1998, as the Asian financial crisis was stabilizing after more than a year of existential uncertainty for the region’s political class, Vice President Al Gore attended the APEC summit in Kuala Lumpur and gave a speech upbraiding his autocratic host, calling for political reform and declaring that America stands with the people of Malaysia seeking “reformasi”—democracy and an end to elite corruption. Malaysia’s trade minister Rafidah Aziz said it “was the most disgusting speech I’ve ever heard in my life.”123 It was the kind of self-undermining confrontational style more associated with neoconservatives, but it reflected hubristic true belief. Of course, the Clinton administration’s role in actually supporting Asian democracy in practice was mixed, in part because its conceptually liberal approach to statecraft was still only a supplement

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to American military power, not a displacement of it. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright characterized Clinton’s policy as “assertive multilateralism,” but this was a euphemism for liberal hegemony—a reality better captured by Albright’s famous quip to Colin Powell, “What’s the point of having this superb military that you’re always talking about if we can’t use it?”124 In South Korea and Taiwan, both of whom were midstream in consolidating their political transformations, this approach benefited the transition to democracy. Neither experienced the volatility and conflict proneness that sometimes accompanies democratization for two reasons. One was that U.S.-centered economic interdependence tamed both nationalist sentiments and military collusion with politicians.125 The other was that the U.S. forward presence at key points buffered proximate threats from North Korea and China respectively, making it possible to avoid the risks of democratizing aggression. Clinton’s China policy, meanwhile, harped on freedom for Tibet more than Bush had, but otherwise totally subordinated the imperative for political liberalization in favor of access to the China market. As National Security Adviser Tony Lake told his Chinese counterpart Liu Huaqiu amid the 1996 Taiwan Strait crisis, “We’re going to talk about human rights because that’s who we are, but frankly I don’t have to convince you of democracy because history will take care of that.”126 Like Bush, Clinton acted as if you could promote democracy by doing nothing more than encouraging economic liberalization. So when Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi led a democratic charge in Congress to link China’s MFN trade status to improvements in human rights and the rule of law, Clinton convinced her caucus to shelve the legislation. Clinton told her he would issue the conditionality via an executive order (EO), which has the force of law. But because EOs can be overturned by presidents as easily as they are issued, Clinton soon reversed himself, and by 1994 he had delinked MFN from human rights concerns without needing congressional buy-in, paving the way both for granting Permanent Normal Trade Relations status in 1999 and creating a permissive environment for China to proceed on whatever political track it wished domestically. In Indonesia, the story is more complicated, because the United States unintentionally created conditions that forced the autocratic

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President Suharto out of office in May 1998. Suharto stayed in control for thirty years and, over the prior decade and a half, had helped to deliver enormous economic growth to Indonesia. But corruption and inequality under Suharto were extreme, and the intrusive, economically damaging IMF structural adjustment package he adopted during the Asian financial crisis (under pressure from Clinton) fueled riots and mass calls for his ouster. Suharto’s removal was a step that led to partial democratization, but during the transition, the United States stayed aloof of international human rights investigations of the country and preserved ties to Indonesia’s military even while it was engaging in extrajudicial arrests, sexual assaults, kidnappings, and killings of protesters.127 Declassified reports show a U.S. government favoring military-induced stability over national fracture even at the expense of the people’s democratic enfranchisement.128 That Indonesia subsequently pursued some political reforms was an outgrowth of these turbulent events, but it was incidental to U.S. decision-making. Clinton’s emphasis on economic liberalization also had two faces when it came to Asian democracy. Greater density of economic connectivity did cushion what might otherwise have been tumultuous processes of democratization, especially in South Korea and Taiwan. And before 1998, the United States and Japan were primarily the ones fostering that connectivity. But driving regional economic deregulation, subsidy elimination, and tariff reductions necessarily meant circumscribing the sovereign democratic control of Asian nations on economic questions.129 That made U.S.-preferred economic policies in Asia functionally antidemocratic, but with an expectation of inducing future democracy. APEC as a political project aimed at limiting the scope of societal issues that could be addressed through public policy in the name of global economic stability. Similarly, the U.S.-approved IMF bailouts dictated terms of acceptance to recipient nations that intruded into how they managed their economies.

The Risk-Wager Balance of Bush and Clinton With the exception of the North Korean nuclear crisis—during which Washington drove toward war every bit as much as

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P’yo˘ngyang—the United States was the vital bulwark of Asia’s negative peace in the long unipolar moment, though sometimes as a happy accident. Under Bush and Clinton, military superiority and alliances worked in tandem to assert predictability in a region with high volatility risks. Not only did that combination free Asia’s newly industrialized countries to continue focusing their national energies on economic development rather than territorial disputes; it also provided a basis for buffering Chinese pressure on Taiwan as it attempted to hold its first ever democratic presidential election in 1996. And U.S. détente with China, which Bush and Clinton upheld on the belief that deep engagement with Beijing would lead to its political reform, incentivized China to integrate into the world economy and become enmeshed in international institutions, encouraging it to defer a belligerent foreign policy in most respects. After 1997, moreover, the economic bet on China paved the way for governments in Asia and the Pacific to yoke their economies to China’s rise despite latent misgivings about its growing power, helping perpetuate Asian stability into the twenty-first century. In so doing, however, the United States gave the Asian peace the structurally insecure character of multiple hegemons in different domains (U.S. security centrality and Chinese economic centrality). More acutely, America’s post–Cold War engagement with Asia sometimes threatened the peace more directly. Military superiority was overkill relative to Asia’s threat environment, which as of 1993 was basically North Korea. And as the U.S. military buildup around the Korean Peninsula in response to P’yo˘ngyang’s booting International Atomic Energy Agency inspectors out of the country escalated the crisis, war was averted not because of U.S. power or strategic acumen but rather because of former president Jimmy Carter’s unofficial diplomatic intervention. When it came to deeper forms of peace—notably the expansion of Southeast Asia’s security community, deeper intra–East Asian regionalism, and liberal political (rather than just economic) reforms—the United States was the aloof hegemon, its choices often either obdurate or incidental to such projects of progress. Both Bush and Clinton actively disrupted schemes to stitch Asian countries closer together (including the EAEC and AMF ideas) when those schemes excluded the United States. They further

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tried to steer Asia’s regionalist impulse into corporate-friendly APEC, only to see East Asian governments create regional workarounds like the Chiang Mai Initiative and ASEAN+3 precisely because APEC appeared to be a U.S.-centric tool for pushing the kinds of trade liberalization policies that made Asian governments feel politically vulnerable. U.S. economic policies inadvertently fostered the conditions for the Asian financial crisis, which not only put interdependence at risk but also unintentionally led to the overthrow of Suharto in Indonesia. And Southeast Asia’s biggest peace-building result of the 1990s—the end of Vietnam’s occupation of Cambodia and subsequent peace process—was something the United States supported but that was driven by ASEAN. The irony is not only that, on closer scrutiny, narratives about a Pax Americana elide the role of others but also that the primary facilitator of conflict resolution and security community building in this instance was ASEAN—the kind of regional institution the United States sought to prevent forming again.

chapter five

The War on Terror versus Great-Power Competition

F

OR GOVERNMENTS IN ASIA, the opening decade of the twenty-first century was a time of ambivalence. While peace was never in immediate jeopardy, the pattern of regional order had morphed into one of states both relying on and hedging against U.S. hegemony while also empowering China, a state that much of the region had been wary of for decades. The Asian financial crisis in 1997 and 1998 diminished America’s standing among nations affected by the crisis, prodding them to look for greater economic security from within the region lest they be forced to take a U.S.-backed IMF bailout package from hell.1 China, which not only portrayed itself as rising peacefully but also offered tantalizing prospects for economic growth, was the best alternative, given that Japan had maxed out its economic influence and APEC and ASEAN proved ineffectual in meeting the demands of the financial crisis.2 In essence, betting on China’s ascent allowed the region to continue prioritizing economic development without depending as much on U.S. capital or export markets. As ASEAN secretary-general Rodolfo Severino Jr. explained in 2001, “It is inevitable that China gains in strength economically

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and politically. The way Asean handles this is to form strong relationships with China. That’s the only way to go.”3 And to complement their deepening economic relationships with China, Asian states touted engagement, enmeshment, and ritualized diplomacy and peace building—with China and each other. But these were all front-of-stage strategies—the more hopeful initiatives that governments and scholars spotlighted even as national security problems festered just behind the curtain. By the turn of the century, Asia had emerged as a “complex patchwork” of cooperative regional architecture, unprecedented migration, and declining poverty, but also nuclear proliferation, ethnic tensions, historical rivalries, terrorism, kleptocracy, and territorial disputes. It was the double reality of antagonism and geopolitical mistrust combined with a mélange of cooperative institutions and interdependence that constituted the “Asian paradox” of hot economics and cold politics.4 The George W. Bush administration found itself in the middle of these dueling trends, unwittingly presiding over, and accelerating the end of, the unipolar moment. Throughout Bush’s tenure, the United States stayed a formidable power in every respect but was no longer dominant in Asia except militarily. This shift was propelled partly by neoconservatism, a hawkish brand of liberal internationalism that had many adherents in the Bush administration. Neoconservatism had several defining features: military superiority, unilateralism, skepticism toward international institutions, the moral clarity of good versus evil, and the strategic importance of exporting democracy.5 Before the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 (9/11), Bush had planned to take a greatpower perspective on international relations, focusing on China and Russia as key “challenges.”6 On the campaign trail, he even designated China a “strategic competitor.”7 And to the moralists in Bush’s cabinet, direct dealmaking with despots like North Korea’s Kim Jong-il was distasteful at best. All of this was consistent with the neoconservative ethos. But overnight, the war on terror had deeply distorted U.S. grand strategy. This new global fight became “not just a priority, but the priority.”8 The result was a greater reliance on the threat and use of force, the expansion of global military deployments for counterterrorism operations, and the start of what would become

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the endless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—all of which consumed America’s available political capital and a good deal of its military capacity, to say nothing of the time and attention of the national security state. Amid these taxing obsessions, the routines and crises of Bush’s most senior decision makers left no room for the question of Asian stability.9 In 2006, for example, the Pentagon undertook a survey of the many projects it had launched to “meet the challenges of the post–September 11, 2001, world” over the previous five years. Of the twenty-one initiatives it identified—excluding Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom—none focused on East Asia or the Pacific.10 In the memoirs of Bush’s cabinet members, moreover, thousands of pages were devoted to Afghanistan, Iraq, and Middle East policy. When Asia featured at all in these stories, it was as historical narrowcasting: either portrayals of North Korean nuclear minutiae or the small politics of policy coordination, mostly with China.11 Asia was often simply a venue where Bush administration officials pressed for help with their various war-on-terror and counterproliferation needs. In the short run, consequently, Bush bequeathed a peace on Asia by his neglect, sparing it the most militaristic impulses of his cabinet. By making terrorism and the Islamic world the primary focus of national security, his administration had no practical ability to also pursue war-risking policies in Asia in any meaningful way.

Military Superiority Requires Allies After 9/11, alliances mattered for how they helped America either retain its preeminence or prosecute its Manichaean struggle. In a purely military sense, the war on terror was layered on top of, but did not displace, America’s traditional preparations for interstate wars. Rhetorically, Condoleezza Rice’s famous statement in the 2002 National Security Strategy (NSS)—that the United States seeks a “balance of power that favors human freedom”—involved the deliberate blurring of power and values, which also made it emblematic of neoconservatism. Conceptually, the spread of economic and political (but not intergovernmental) liberalism was both an end and a means of U.S. policy. But so was military

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dominance. The same 2002 NSS stated publicly the primacy imperative from which it had demurred in 1992: “Our forces will be strong enough to dissuade potential adversaries from pursuing a military build-up in hopes of surpassing, or equaling, the power of the United States.”12 Bureaucratically, this commitment to unrivaled military power preserved and expanded the basic “twowar” standard for determining the size and shape of the military that it had inherited from its predecessors. And with the release of the 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR), the Pentagon redefined military superiority to include not only winning two regional-level wars in overlapping time frames, but also possessing sufficient forces to conduct terrorist operations globally while fighting a counterinsurgency.13 This expansion of the defense enterprise was possible because the George W. Bush era was one of fiscally gratuitous decisionmaking on national security. Baseline spending on defense ballooned from $287 billion during Bush’s first year in office to $513 billion by the time he left.14 Added to this was the contingency funding for the war on terror plus Afghanistan and Iraq, which cost nearly $150 billion per year on average beyond the base budget.15 National security, in other words, had a blank check, sparing the Bush administration the tough deliberations about how to modernize the force on a budget that it would have faced if not for 9/11. Bush-era thinking was also striking for the degree to which it rehashed the offensive, first-mover mentality that Reagan had championed against the Soviets. This was most visible in the 2002 NSS, which came to be the definitive statement of a “Bush doctrine” of preventive war (which it described as “preemptive”). Referring vaguely to unspecified enemies of civilization, the document declared that “deterrence based only upon the threat of retaliation is less likely to work against leaders of rogue states. . . . The greater the threat . . . the more compelling the case for taking anticipatory action to defend ourselves, even if uncertainty remains as to the time and place of the enemy’s attack. To forestall or prevent such hostile acts by our adversaries, the United States will, if necessary, act preemptively.”16 Just before the release of the NSS, Bush had given a speech at West Point, arguing that deterrence would not keep Americans safe, and the United Stated needed “to

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be ready for preemptive action when necessary to defend our liberty and to defend our lives.”17 The phrase “preemption” implied an imminent attack, yet the logic being described at West Point and in the NSS was preventive, taking proactive steps against latent or distant threats. And the focus on preventive action, far from being hollow rhetoric or a one-off justification for Iraq, followed logically from the prevailing understanding that military superiority was not just something you have but something you demonstrate and put to use. As Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld put it publicly, “Defending against terrorism and other emerging 21st Century threats requires that we take the war to the enemy.”18 In a private memo to President Bush marked “Close Hold,” Rumsfeld elaborated on this approach by noting how it was “widely assumed that the U.S. will strike soon and exclusively at Al-Qaida in Afghanistan. . . . It would instead be surprising and impressive if we built our forces up patiently, took some early action outside of Afghanistan, perhaps in multiple locations.”19 This was an ambitious undertaking with an ambitious purpose. Rumsfeld continued to say that the war should “significantly change the world’s political map.”20 The offensive, risk-acceptant character of military superiority under Bush was also evident in the administration’s 2002 Nuclear Posture Review (NPR). The NPR expanded the set of countries against which the United States would conduct nuclear target planning, called for modernizing the nuclear force to achieve not just nuclear superiority but escalation dominance, and rationalized investment in “tactical” low-yield nuclear weapons that could be used in conventional conflicts against China and North Korea, as well as countries in the Middle East.21 It represented a pivot away from the paradigm of mutually assured destruction and toward the “cult of the offensive”—a pathology by which deterrence of enemy attack was to come from the willingness to engage in nuclear use first (preemptively or preventively) rather than in retaliation.22 Andy Marshall, the controversial director of net assessment who had the ear of many secretaries of defense, including Rumsfeld, actively promoted “competitive strategies” that dealt with adversaries by going on the offensive in various ways to apply pressure on them.23 Reagan’s military provocations against the

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Soviets—airbrushing out the war scares that accompanied them— provided a template. The virtue of the offensive implied in Marshall’s competitive-strategy mind-set supplied an underlying theory for the global war on terror, the NSS, the NPR, and the U.S. withdrawal from the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty: military superiority plus offensive action equals security from threat.24 Fortunately for Asia, the early decision to launch the war on terror ensured that the Bush administration confined its risktaking to the Middle East and Afghanistan. The freedom to spend wantonly on defense allowed U.S. force posture in Asia to remain basically frozen despite the escalating need for bodies and hardware in the rest of the world. In a narrow, near-term sense, defense bloat was actually good for the Asian peace. Keeping U.S. force levels stable put off for another day allies’ fears of being abandoned by the United States. American officials were frequently called out for post-9/11 neglect of Asia and for the strategically questionable decision to dump so many resources into wars without end.25 But there was no serious contemplating of, or worrying about, the prospect of U.S. military withdrawal from the region. In addition, the Bush team—especially Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld—came into office planning to press allies for greater cost sharing (an evergreen priority for Republican foreign policy mandarins).26 But that quickly changed because money was no object for a presidency that believed “deficits don’t matter.”27 What the United States needed was greater burden-sharing contributions to the war on terror and U.S. grand strategy, not remuneration. As important as allies’ material contributions, moreover, were their symbolic ones. Bush needed to fend off the dominant image of the United States as unilateralist,28 and the best way to do that was for allies to share the burden. That transformation of how the United States dealt with allies—with burden sharing taking on greater importance than cost sharing—bolstered some alliances and strained others. America’s anti-terror crusade, while controversial, became an indirect boon for its alliances with Australia, Japan, the Philippines, and to an extent Thailand. It stood to reason that, ally or no, any nation rallying to America’s cause in the war on terror would not soon be abandoned. And so Australia, which had joined the United

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States in every major conflict for a century, did so again in Afghanistan and Iraq, validating its political reliability in addition to becoming a crucial asset for intelligence collection against some of the most important targets in the war on terror.29 The endless wars, moreover, happened to come at a time when America’s defense strategists had begun waking up to Australia’s promising geography as a site for U.S. weapons systems and platforms that could more easily reach the Indian Ocean region and Southeast Asia than could the U.S. bases in Northeast Asia.30 Under Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, meanwhile, Japan used the war on terror to set itself on a gradual path away from orthodox pacifism and toward more “normal” global military contributions.31 The Diet passed laws in 2001 and 2003 (the years the Afghanistan and Iraq wars started, respectively) that allowed Japan to deploy its Self-Defense Forces for counterterrorism purposes and to provide military logistics support to Operation Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom, which it did. Popular opinion in Japan remained staunchly against the Iraq war in particular, which helped unseat the conservative Liberal Democratic Party from power in 2009,32 but for the duration of Bush’s presidency, alliance bonhomie reached its peak. And the Philippines, having expelled U.S. forces only a decade earlier, became arguably the most crucial site for the war on terror in Asia. Manila had long struggled violently to exercise control of its sprawling archipelagic territory, ironically because of how America’s colonial legacy and historical deference to U.S. interests diluted the national government’s legitimacy. During the Cold War, communist insurgency was the reason for the United States to funnel billions of dollars of aid to the government in Manila. Now, the Moro Muslim insurgency and presence of al-Qaeda affiliates became the reason to pour in weapons, training, intelligence, and defense dollars once again.33 The Moro conflict in the Philippines was a kind of slow-burn civil war that had gone on since the 1960s, and it had a religious overlay, given the prominence of Catholicism in the Philippines and the Islamic faith of many insurgents.34 In March 2000, the Estrada government had declared war on the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, but since it was pre-9/11, this and other internal conflicts in Asia simply did not matter much

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to the United States. In the new paradigm, however, the Moro conflict presented a ripe opportunity for the United States and the Philippines to rekindle common cause and return U.S. special operations forces and advisers to the country.35 Bush effused about the intimacy of the Philippines and the United States after 9/11, claiming that “in the war on terror, [the] U.S.-Philippines military alliance is a rock of stability in the Pacific.”36 But the requirements of marrying deliberately aggressive action with forward-positioned military superiority were a burden for South Korea. Fearing that the Bush administration would start a war with the North, the liberal government of Roh Moo-hyun in Seoul felt compelled to send its troops to both Afghanistan and Iraq in hopes of buying the restraint of its American patron on inter-Korean matters.37 The U.S. relationship with South Korea was extremely rocky during the Roh-Bush era; Roh catapulted to the presidency in 2002 by dog whistling anti-Americanism, and the allies had polar opposite views on how to deal with North Korea. Roh’s reasoning for participating in America’s endless wars was wrong but not baseless. It was wrong because, as Condoleezza Rice recalled, “We didn’t have the bandwidth for unilateral confrontation with Iran and North Korea, given the situation in Iraq,” and “Though [China, North Korea, and South Korea] might have feared that the United States would use military force, they needn’t have worried: the Pentagon wanted no part of armed conflict on the Korean peninsula.”38 Indeed, President Bush reportedly told one of his staff during the Iraq War buildup that “nothing that the North Koreans do will cause me to view this as a crisis.”39 But Roh’s fear was hardly baseless. North Korea was lumped into the “Axis of Evil” in Bush’s 2002 State of the Union speech, alongside Iraq. And the prevailing sentiment in Asia, as summarized by the international-relations scholar Michael Mastanduno, was that “prior to September 11, smaller powers in East Asia could reasonably believe that the United States was a dominant power without revisionist ambitions. After September 11, they cannot be so sure. . . . States in the region have little choice but to question the ambitions and next steps of what has abruptly appeared to be a dominant state without restraints.”40 It was hard for policy officials in the region to perceive otherwise, given the aggressive rhetoric,

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twin invasions, and military buildup of the Bush administration. And ultimately the reason that Australia, Japan, and the Philippines enjoyed closer ties to Washington under Bush was because they enlisted in America’s war on terrorism. Had the allies gone their own way, it is conceivable that the alliances themselves might have too. It would be reasonable to question the contribution of military superiority and alliances to the Asian peace during the Bush era. Regionalism was booming, as were economic growth rates. China was on a charm offensive. Asia was a stunningly low-threat environment compared not just to the Cold War but also to some dicey moments in the 1990s, when the real prospect of war with both China and North Korea arose at different points. And the latent disputes with the greatest potential to cause wars—in the East and South China Seas, across the Taiwan Strait, and on the Korean Peninsula—presented more as long-term sources of insecurity rather than as acute crises. But it would be outlandish to argue that the likes of Japan, South Korea, New Zealand, Australia, Singapore, Indonesia, Vietnam, and even Taiwan would have ventured into highly dependent trade relationships with China absent the United States. The presumption of U.S. military presence in the region as an ambient counterbalancing force gave life to economic engagement strategies with China. This is evident in the shape of the regional order—that is, the patterns of interchange that made Asia predictable enough to pursue commerce and eschew arms racing, which had as much to do with America’s security centrality to the region as it did to China’s rise. Allies were the anchor of the U.S. security presence, which, paradoxically, was an unhealthy strategic dependency and a quasi-public good. And given the demands of operations in the Middle East and Afghanistan, that presence would have been impossible to sustain were it not for the explosion in both requirements and funding provided the military after 9/11. This is not to say that the U.S. military role in Asia was entirely benign. The United States abetted civil conflicts in Southeast Asia and China by siding with governments against their internal dissenters on the grounds that some were terrorists and insurgents. Al-Qaeda and its affiliates were present in Southeast Asia, and

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some Muslim Uighurs from Xinjiang were counted among the foreign fighters who made their way to Iraq. The choice to side militarily and politically with governments in their internal conflicts buoyed interstate peace on the margins but also came at the expense of heightened conflicts within states.

Great-Power Détente and Economic Interdependence The foundations of U.S. détente with China shifted under presidents George H. W. Bush and Bill Clinton to be based mostly on vague, hubristic expectations that the China of the future would be more like America than the China of its day. The liberalization wager—that economic intercourse inexorably transforms politics to become liberal too—had justified expanding U.S. trade and investment with China and encouraging others to do the same. By 2001, economic interdependence in Asia, once built on the backs of U.S. markets and Japanese capital, had become disproportionately dependent on China’s rise. In this way, China policy and Asian political economy had become inseparable. The George W. Bush administration sustained détente with Beijing, and by extension Asian interdependence, but the way it did so reshaped the patterned movements of goods and capital into something that increasingly put China at the center and the United States on the periphery. Official policy even betrayed an undercurrent of dissatisfaction, implying there was something wrong with extending “the end of history” to China. Bush’s team was famous for its internal rancor, yet when it came to economic policy, they were unapologetically and indivisibly neoliberal. Hank Paulson, chairman and CEO of Goldman Sachs at a time when “monetizing the state”—long since a Beltway norm—had literally become part of Goldman’s official strategy, was appointed Bush’s treasury secretary.41 Other key players, including Condoleezza Rice, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Richard Armitage, and Paul Wolfowitz, had all cashed in on their Cold War–era government experience by serving on the boards of large multinationals and defense contractors to facilitate market entry, government contracts, and regulation work-arounds for clients that valued their contacts and knowledge.42 What is more, the

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Republican Party was the party of big business, and big business had spent the previous decade more than tripling trade with China. Détente was good for the bottom line and nested nicely within Bush’s view that “the case for trade is not just monetary, but moral.”43 Given all of this, it was only natural that the Bush administration would uncritically preserve Clinton’s liberalization bet as a basis for engagement with China. The 2002 NSS, which garnered attention for its worrying hues of militarism, was nevertheless bullish on Beijing: “The power of market principles . . . will advance openness and the rule of law in China.”44 Bush’s West Point speech that same year—despite thematically focusing on the war on terror—paused to link America’s response to 9/11 with a larger neoliberal approach to China, asserting, “Even in China, leaders are discovering that economic freedom is the only lasting source of national wealth. In time, they will find that social and political freedom is the only true source of national greatness.”45 The most complete statement of the Bush administration’s economically grounded wager on China was on display when Hank Paulson took to the pages of Foreign Affairs to argue that “the inextricable interdependence of China’s growth and that of the global economy requires a policy of engagement. In fact, the overriding importance of economic growth to China’s leaders presents the best means of influencing China’s emergence as a global power and encouraging its integration into the international system.”46 Not only was Paulson explaining the administration’s liberalization logic of détente; he was speaking for everyone but the Pentagon when he proposed that the United States ought to insulate economic ties to China from its growing list of disagreements and geopolitical concerns. In her memoir, Rice recalls green-lighting Paulson’s proposal to create the China-U.S. Strategic Economic Dialogue (SED) in 2006 on the grounds that “the totality of the relationship mattered even if there were no actual quid pro quos. . . . [We] didn’t really believe that threatening the U.S.-China economic relationship in retaliation for differences in the security field or on human rights would work.”47 Beyond the promise of liberalization, the war on terror itself profoundly influenced China policy. Before 9/11, the United States

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was planning to pursue security competition with China in a silo delinked from trade policy, an awkwardness that reflected a recurring tension between the corporate and neoconservative constituencies in the Republican Party.48 After 9/11, though, the United States could not afford to stoke a rivalry with China at the same time that it sought to prosecute a global war effort. And so Bush no longer labeled China a “strategic competitor” and instead sought to make it a “responsible stakeholder” in what policy makers referred to with increasing frequency as the “liberal international order.”49 The 2002 NSS argued that the world’s great powers “are on the same side— united by common dangers of terrorist violence and chaos.”50 President Bush explained that “we will preserve the peace by building good relations among the great powers.”51 The purported moral clarity of a war against terrorism enlisted nation-states against perceived hostile nonstate actors in defense of a global order that privileged states as the preeminent political actors. Even as Sino-U.S. détente benefited from the new anti-terror paradigm, parts of the U.S. defense establishment started hedging against the prospect that China would not reform politically and instead adopt a more belligerent agenda that challenged America’s already fractured hegemony. This undercurrent had its origins in DoD’s Office of Net Assessment (ONA). While U.S. force structure had not changed much from the Clinton era, and the National Defense Strategy issued in 2005 did not mention China, the strategy made a vague but important reference to “anti-access” threats. Not only was the term a defense community shibboleth for those concerned with the Chinese military, but it was a placeholder for Pentagon thinking about statecraft that dated to the 1990s. After the Cold War, a community of defense intellectuals began pessimistic prognostications about China’s rise and the threat it would pose to the United States in Asia. ONA, whose existence had been pegged to long-term competition with the Soviet Union, began to train its sights on China as the next great challenge to U.S. foreign policy. Much of the national security establishment already fretted about China’s ongoing conversion of economic might into military might and believed the United States needed to hedge against the trend—a problem made more immediate by China’s saber-rattling during the 1996 Taiwan Strait crisis.52

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ONA and its fellow travelers reckoned that the nature of China’s challenge to U.S. military superiority was an operational concept dubbed “anti-access / area denial” (A2/AD).53 China’s PLA, by using advanced precision-guided munitions and electronic warfare, could pin down U.S. forces in the region—stymieing America’s ability to maneuver—and hold at bay U.S. forces outside the operating theater in a conflict, thereby giving the PLA a free hand to pursue military objectives against a smaller Asian state without the United States stopping them.54 For strategists, A2/AD became a focal point in a construct of great-power competition to justify transforming the military into a more modern, high-technology force capable of dealing with a dystopian China. Before 9/11, this was what Rumsfeld aimed to do, until the war on terror upended the movement toward rivalry with China in favor of détente. But the strategic-competitor thinking endured and became the rationale for a new focus on not only “building ally and partner capacity”—essentially empowering others to externally balance China as it rose—but also forging unprecedentedly warm ties to India as a natural counterweight to China.55 It was during this time that Australian and Japanese strategists earnestly began not only conceptualizing the region as spanning the “Indo-Pacific” but socializing U.S. counterparts to the idea as well.56 Yet ONA’s grim vision of the future, however justifiable, was oblivious to the possibility that it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy: building and posturing a military for rivalry with China made it more likely that China would react in ways that made the rivalry real. It was also a vision entirely at odds with both official policy and the gauzy liberalization-wager thinking that dominated the unipolar moment and the war on terror. Nevertheless, throughout Bush’s presidency, the constituency of defense China hawks in Washington continued to grow and incubate. In the meantime, the United States actively sought to make China a “responsible stakeholder” in the international system. Secretary of State Colin Powell gave voice to the dominant policy that “we should work with China, cooperate with China, seek a better relationship with China.”57 Some of this effort was wasted, or at least based on illusion. The Bush team, for instance, had mythologized the importance of China to the North Korea issue and bent over backward to foist

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leadership in the Six-Party Talks on an exceedingly reluctant Beijing. The NSC believed that “nothing would work [on P’yo˘ngyang] without getting China on board.”58 This was correct insofar as China could be a spoiler in U.S. policy toward North Korea; China had direct leader, party, and military ties to P’yo˘ngyang and was its primary source of international trade. But it was entirely unrealistic—even ahistorical—to expect that China could use its leverage over North Korea to influence the Kim family’s decision-making. U.S. presidents going back to the 1960s had wrongly believed that either China or Russia could steer North Korean behavior. The truth was that nobody but the Kim regime determined North Korea’s course.59 It was a stubbornly independent country, and history had proved that China had no desire to bring too much pressure to bear on P’yo˘ngyang—not just because China feared problems on its border with North Korea if the Kim regime were to destabilize, but also because in a realpolitik kind of way, it has never made strategic sense to convert a neighboring country into an enemy if you can avoid it. This mattered not just because U.S. policy was ineffectual but because China’s resistance to pressuring North Korea too much actually aided regional stability. The Bush administration, while determined to avoid conflict with P’yo˘ngyang, was also laying the groundwork for a future war with it whether war was its aim or not—by ratcheting up sanctions in service of an increasingly impossible goal of North Korean disarmament, by placing North Korea rhetorically in the “Axis of Evil” and naming it as an adversary in strategy documents, and by moving toward a nuclear and ballistic missile defense posture that was justified openly in terms of the threat North Korea posed. The conditions for acute nuclear confrontation in 2017 were being set during the war on terror. In other respects, Sino-U.S. cooperation was quite effective in facilitating relative peace. One was in unwittingly placing China at the center of Asia’s economic order. Another was keeping the Taiwan Strait out of crisis, for a time. In preparation to fight for Taiwan if necessary, the PLA had been on a military modernization binge since the 1980s (initially with America’s help), which accelerated after the 1996 crisis.60 Much of that had occurred under the leadership of Deng Xiaoping’s successor, Jiang Zemin. Hu Jintao, who

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replaced Jiang in 2003, was a party man, someone less jingoistic and more pragmatic about Taiwan than his predecessor.61 A fairly common view of Hu’s presidency was that he “advances his position by advancing the economy. The Taiwan issue was not so urgent.”62 The transition from Jiang Zemin to Hu Jintao was itself an enhancement to regional stability. It encouraged Chinese officials to lean into the reassuring “peaceful rise” narrative, which in turn presupposed a less coercive, less confrontational foreign policy.63 So committed was Beijing to promoting the image of its peaceful rise that multiple Chinese officials conveyed to U.S. counterparts in so many words that the U.S. military presence in Asia was welcome, or at least acceptable, in the long term.64 But China’s burgeoning economic influence had as much to do with inadvertent U.S. positioning and the fact of Asia’s NICs looking for a U.S. alternative as it did with Hu’s interest in stability. The shape of economic interdependence—cohering around China and bridging Northeast and Southeast Asia—was part reaction to Washington and part by-product of China’s “charm offensive.”65 East Asian governments were pursuing economic interdependence from within rather than via the United States, which defaulted to favoring trade ties and monetary arrangements with China. By the middle of the decade, much of the region judged China to be a status quo power.66 Any hesitations about Chinese intentions or its military buildup were muted by the combination of America’s security commitments to the region, the more than tripling of U.S. trade with China over the prior decade (which implied an enlightened respectability for those who made similar China bets), and a bevy of regional initiatives (discussed in the next section) aimed at bridling China’s geopolitical ambition. And while it was the Clinton administration that initially facilitated China’s membership in the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 2001, the Bush administration worked to draw it in further, which was widely read as a signal that Beijing was being integrated into the global economic order, in turn making it “safe” for small states to accrue trade dependencies, in theory.67 By 2007, China had not just become Asia’s economic engine; it replaced Japan as one of the big-three global manufacturing networks (alongside the United States and Germany) to account for the majority of the world’s value-added production.68

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More directly too, détente translated into stability across the Taiwan Strait. Condoleezza Rice called Taiwanese president Chen Shui-bian a “thorn in our side” because of his veiled threats to put Taiwan’s formal independence to a referendum in 2007 in spite of rapidly expanding trade with the mainland and the risk of conflict a declaration of independence would have implied. In 2004 under Hu Jintao, China had passed an antisecession law aimed squarely at Taiwan, stoking fears that China would launch a war if Taiwan voted for independence. Chen was playing a risky game. But the Bush administration bought a healthy amount of goodwill with Taiwan via unprecedented levels of arms sales in previous years. So by 2007, U.S.-Taiwan bilateral ties were such that Rice was able to curb Chen’s political grandstanding and avoid the independence question by twice rebuking Taiwan publicly, as well as privately, at Beijing’s behest (alluding to the possibility that America might not defend Taiwan if it provoked a conflict with the mainland).69 It was the straightforward use of diplomacy in the name of stability, but it was no small thing when you consider a counterfactual world in which the United States might have had a belligerent, rivalrous relationship with Beijing rather than a strategic détente. America’s choices to support economic interdependence and pursue great-power détente worked hand in hand to keep Asia stable in the Bush era. But Asian states themselves were driving the former, and many in the U.S. defense establishment were already positioning U.S. policy to abandon (or at least hedge against) the latter. It was the first time in history that two hegemons had emerged in different domains, and it was sustainable only as long as détente itself survived.

Multilateralism, Unilateralism, and Regionalism? The war on terror plus neoconservatism bred a mix of hostility and indifference toward, as well as occasional exploitation of, regionalism. The Bush administration shared the Republican Party’s historical perception of regional institutions as somehow both a potential threat to U.S. interests and a feckless policy tool. But as the Asian security scholar Brendan Taylor has cautioned, it would be wrong to read U.S. conduct in Asia as unilateralist in the sense

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of acting alone.70 That perception arose because of its decisions about Europe and the Middle East, not Asia. But especially after the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the United States simply lacked the leverage or political capital to secure its interests in Asia through leviathan-like assertions of will; the shape of Asian geopolitics was uniquely “conducive to multilateralism.”71 As a result, the Bush administration became a champion of what it liked to dub “minilateralism,” extending Rumsfeld’s “coalition of the willing” concept to the circumstances it found in Asia. The United States launched a trilateral security dialogue with Japan and Australia, as well as a number of regularized multilateral military exercises in Southeast Asia. U.S. officials engaged heavily with ASEAN, having signed a number of cooperative agreements with it since 2005. They also continued to invest in APEC as “the premier organization in the Asia-Pacific” in spite of the region having left it for dead after the 1997 financial crisis.72 And the Bush administration launched several security-related groupings, including the Proliferation Security Initiative (PSI) and the Regional Maritime Security Initiative. It also remained active in semiofficial security multilateralism like the annual Shangri-La Dialogue and CSCAP. The most notable of the U.S. regional contributions to Asia’s “complex patchwork” was the short-lived Six-Party Talks (6PT), aimed at realizing North Korean denuclearization. The 6PT was structured as a series of working groups on everything ranging from economic normalization and nuclear negotiations to a highly aspirational “Northeast Asia Peace and Security Mechanism” that many commentators believed would shape the future of Asian regionalism.73 But the sum of these ad hoc arrangements proves only that the Bush administration did not work alone in Asia, not that working alone was an option, or that it supported multilateralism as a basis for regional stability. It did not. In 2006, Donald Rumsfeld included ASEAN on a list of institutions that “have failed to adapt sufficiently” to the demands of the modern world.74 President Bush missed multiple ASEAN summit meetings. Condoleezza Rice twice missed attending the ASEAN Regional Forum, including in 2007 for a trip to Iraq; the symbolism was not lost on Asia watchers.75 And Rice was so cool on the East Asia Summit (EAS) that she reportedly

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told her Japanese counterpart to “keep the forum open but [stop] short of making any commitment to it.”76 One of Rice’s deputy assistant secretaries, Eric John, told Congress that the Bush administration had no policy toward EAS because it was “a black box. . . . Nobody knows what the East Asia Summit is other than leaders coming together.”77 Indeed, Victor Cha, who worked on Bush’s NSC, wrote an elaborately reasoned book about U.S. alliances in Asia that made derisive allusions to regionalism—including specifically EAS, ARF, ASEAN+3, and even the American-beloved APEC—as “feel-good” and “talk shop” institutions that were “substance-less.”78 The prevailing attitude of the Bush administration was thus that Asian institutions that excluded the United States were “worse than meaningless.”79 The most vivid and arguably consequential linkage between U.S. attitudes toward regionalism and its choice of “minilateralism” involved the 6PT to denuclearize North Korea. Bush refused to negotiate with North Korea directly and expressed his intent to abandon the Agreed Framework as soon as he was informed that North Korea was “cheating.”80 But in 2001 and 2002, both Japan and South Korea were already engaging North Korea directly for different reasons (South Korea as part of its “sunshine policy” of transformative engagement, Japan to resolve P’yo˘ngyang’s previous abduction of Japanese citizens). According to Condoleezza Rice, this put added pressure on the United States to pursue diplomacy with North Korea in spite of preferences to the contrary.81 Engagement ultimately took the form of the Six-Party Talks, but it was the by-product of trying to form a “contact group” of external stakeholders who could coordinate their positions against North Korea and present a united front in negotiations.82 The Bush NSC approved forming a contact group, but once the idea was broached with China and South Korea, it quickly morphed into including North Korea, which made it not a unitedfront mechanism to pressure P’yo˘ngyang but rather an unwieldy six-party negotiation.83 Putting aside its performance, the 6PT was a form of multilateralism that was neither a conscious wager on the Asian peace nor an unalloyed good for regional cooperation. Its creation killed the Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group (TCOG) with Japan

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and South Korea on the grounds that it was redundant (which was ironic, because redundancy was implicitly a first principle of Asian regionalism). The TCOG represented the most tangible security cooperation among the three countries; in later years, Japan-Korea diplomatic tensions would be attributed partly to the absence of the TCOG.84 The 6PT also became a shield for the Bush administration to deflect what at the time was a high degree of interest in Asia for institutionalized multilateralism. Because North Korea’s demand for nuclear arms was tied up in a number of crosscutting issues beyond America’s control, the 6PT’s working group structure was necessarily multifaceted. The Northeast Asia Peace and Security Mechanism (NEAPSM) dialogue was one of its working groups because, from the U.S. perspective, if there was going to be a future in regionalized Asian security, it would have to happen via the triumph of the 6PT to resolve the North Korean nuclear issue. Otherwise, Asian security would remain primarily bilateral and alliance based.85 By narrowing Asian security institutionalism to NEAPSM within the 6PT, the Bush administration conditioned the future of its regionalism on the success of a diplomatic venture that was doomed to (and ultimately did) fail. The 6PT proved a poison pill for a multilateral security order in Northeast Asia. The Bush team’s disposition toward regionalism also informed how it engaged with Asia even beyond deliberately ragtag “minilateralism.” Bush refused to sign the ASEAN Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia (TAC), purportedly because it might signal the diminution or compromise of U.S. alliance relationships, though the TAC was nonbinding and required nothing specific from the United States regarding alliances.86 Despite APEC’s mandate to focus on economic coordination, the United States securitized the institution after 9/11, steering its agenda toward counterterrorism, which further alienated Asian leaders from it.87 The United States used the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), meanwhile, primarily as a way to “legitimize American security interests in the region.”88 And as active as U.S. exchanges were with ASEAN, in 2002 the Bush administration launched an “Enterprise for ASEAN Initiative” that sought to move toward preferential trade agreements with individual ASEAN countries rather than negotiating with ASEAN as a bloc.89 This was consistent with

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how the Bush administration tried to liberalize trade globally— one-on-one rather than through institutions—but the effect was to work around ASEAN solidarity while materially incentivizing Southeast Asian bilateralism through what U.S. trade representative Robert Zoellick called “competitive liberalization.” But the shape of Asian regionalism was actively organizing away from the United States. Asia still counted on America’s military prowess, but starting under Clinton and accelerating under Bush, Asian governments were increasingly looking to one another for nonsecurity order building. The reason, as New Zealand’s prime minister Helen Clark noted, was that “there are terribly bitter feelings in Asia from the U.S. response to the Asian economic crisis.”90 Consequently, in the span of less than a decade, Asian governments constructed wide-ranging architectures of diplomacy, coordination, and integration that bypassed the United States entirely. ASEAN made progress toward an ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA) and ASEAN Investment Area, launched several financial coordination initiatives (discussed in the previous chapter), and championed the ASEAN Regional Forum. China, Japan, and South Korea both regularized and elevated the stature of leaderlevel meetings to discuss economic cooperation, eventually establishing a Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat in Seoul.91 Northeast Asia also joined forces with Southeast Asia via the ASEAN+3 (which eventually included Australia and New Zealand as well), the East Asian Summit, the Chiang Mai Initiative for currency swapping, the Asian Bond Market Initiative, Asian Bond Fund, and the transregional Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM).92 First launched in 1996, ASEM continued to grow as both Asia and Europe found common interest during the Bush era in what they saw as America’s unilateralism and willingness to pressure others to liberalize without reciprocity.93 This emergent regional architecture was not just an attempt to continue economic development and stave off conflict among Asia’s smaller states, but also a way of institutionally enmeshing China. Most of these initiatives were designed to encourage China’s “good neighbor” conduct while forging deeply dependent economic ties with it. And China by and large reciprocated. In 2001, China inaugurated the Boao Forum, a multilateral dialogue with

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twenty-six Asian countries (but not the United States) to foster regional connectivity, discuss cooperation on low-stakes economic and societal issues, and legitimate perceptions of China as a benevolent neighbor of Asian governments.94 In 2002, China endorsed the ASEAN Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea, implicitly forswearing the threat or use of force over the disputed maritime area and agreeing to procedural norms to ensure stability. In 2003, China signed on to ASEAN’s Treaty of Amity and Cooperation, rhetorically committing to peaceful relations with Southeast Asia. By the end of the decade, ASEAN had forty-eight distinct diplomacy touch points with China.95 For Beijing, it was all evidence of its “peaceful rise” foreign policy. For ASEAN, these same activities were signs that its binding and enmeshment strategy toward China was progressing. As expressions of intention, of course, this all amounted to “cheap talk”: actions that tie nobody’s hands and involve no real costs. And to be sure, Asian cooperation with China did not prevent its eventual militarization of the South China Sea or soften its position on its major outstanding territorial disputes. But cheap talk has its purposes. Here it created distance from crisis; war cannot be imminent when all sides are invested in sustaining a peaceful-rise narrative, no matter how ultimately illusory. It also provided near-term validation of ASEAN’s economy-first political strategies that relied on China now more than ever. And that is the most generous thing that might be said of America’s role as a force for stability in Asian regionalism: the ambient backdrop of its security commitments made it easier for Asian states to trade and engage with one another and with China despite lingering reservations about its future intentions.96 In any directly measurable sense, though, the United States was a bystander trying to inject its interests into the region’s architecture at will, sometimes bolstering it and sometimes distorting it.

Manichaean Democracy Promotion Democracy was not a major tributary feeding the Asian peace in the Bush era, but to the extent it mattered at all, on no other issue was the gap between a presidency’s self-conceptions and its

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statecraft so great. For Bush, democracy was an identity under attack, rendering literal war as a method of preserving it, if need be.97 Like the Reagan administration’s approach to communism, the wager underlying the war on terror itself was what the political scientist Jonathan Monten called “vindicationism” as opposed to “exemplarism”—that is, supporting democracy abroad not by modeling desired behavior but by combining economic liberalization and military initiatives to push political change.98 Asia was merely a place where the vindicationist anti-terror struggle played out. Although strategically handcuffed by its prioritization of the Middle East, the United States thought of itself as the leading proponent of Asian democracy, albeit with an understanding of democracy less as political enfranchisement or public goods provision than as economic liberalism and human rights protections. The United States was sanctimonious about promoting democracy where there were not other cross-sectional interests in commerce or geopolitics. So in 2007, when the ruling military junta in Myanmar used violence to suppress the “Saffron Revolution” (monk-led protests for democratic reform), the Bush administration tried to rally other governments in support of sanctions.99 Failing, the United States continued to label the junta an “outpost of tyranny” and imposed unilateral sanctions.100 The State Department in particular made a show of calling out Burma for its human rights abuses, doing its utmost to name and shame its leaders.101 But as Condoleezza Rice acknowledged, “The U.S. government’s direct tools for influencing internal development are few. . . . They’re essentially limited to leveraging the power of open markets. . . . More frontal approaches are likely to be resisted and can even backfire.”102 Yet Rice’s reasoning about avoiding confrontation was specifically about China policy. The Bush administration saw a disturbing commonality of interests in China’s perception of the “three evils” of “terrorism, separatism, and extremism”—an unsubtle melding of Bush’s agenda with the CCP’s local human rights abuses against Uighur Muslims in Xinjiang.103 Long-term expectations of democratic change, however unrealistic, forgave near-term transgressions against democratic principles. That plus liberalization optimism spared China from America’s heavy hand.

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When it came to Myanmar, though, the United States had no problem with “frontal approaches,” hence the unilateral sanctions and name-calling. The Bush administration saw little of interest in Myanmar strategically or economically, so sanctimony prevailed. By contrast, Bush officials were enthusiastic about Vietnam despite it being a one-party state still dedicated to performative communist rule. Bush’s team saw Vietnam as being on China’s economic development path, awed by the fact that it operated a functioning stock market the same way a previous generation of policy makers had been floored by the presence of a McDonald’s in Beijing.104 As such, Vietnam became a high-potential economic partner of the United States, which in turn earned it U.S. Permanent Normal Trade Relations status and support for entry into the WTO in 2007. The contrast of Vietnam and Myanmar illustrates how developmental dictatorships avoided Washington’s ire while dictatorships that were the least vested in global capitalism bore the brunt of U.S. critique and pressure. North Korea represented both currents: a Myanmar-like problem for being a “rogue” (rather than “developmental”) dictatorship, but also a geopolitical headache because of nuclear weapons and its strategic position vis-à-vis China. So when Bush’s national security adviser Steve Hadley asked him whether the Six-Party Talks meant giving up on the goal of regime change in P’yo˘ngyang, Bush replied, “No . . . It’s just regime change by other means. He’ll never survive if that place is opened up.”105 Bush personally found North Korea’s ruling regime abhorrent, not even recognizable as governance. And he was certainly not above naming and shaming the Kim regime, which was part of the “Axis of Evil” and an “Outpost of Tyranny.” But the concerns over North Korea’s nuclear proliferation and the desire to use North Korea policy to bolster détente with China mediated Bush’s instincts. While all of this speaks to the Bush administration’s mind-set when it came to a democracy agenda in Asia, it mattered little. To the extent the war on terror affected democracy in Asia, it was in the strange alchemy of bolstering dictatorships and unintentionally stimulating militant political opposition in vulnerable democracies. A few weeks after 9/11, Rumsfeld urged Bush to consider that “the U.S. strategic theme should be aiding local peoples to rid

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themselves of terrorists and to free themselves of regimes that support terrorism.”106 As occurred under Reagan, however, the recommended aid was military assistance—weapons, logistics, training, and intelligence sharing—not public policy to ameliorate underlying causes of terrorism. This too was a reprisal of the Reagan “freedom fighter” theory of liberalism, advising that the United States “make allies of [even undemocratic] others who would . . . root out and attack the common enemies.”107 The comparativepolitics scholar Mark Thompson’s critique that post-9/11 anti-terrorism was a “windfall for authoritarians” in Asia was scathing but not wrong.108 The freedom-fighter blueprint for democracy was at best aloof of, and indirectly detrimental to, democracy in the Philippines and Thailand—America’s only allies in the region who were less than fulsome democracies at the turn of the century.109 Both were experiencing an emerging political cleavage at home between the working-poor majority and landed elites who were initially aligned with “people power” reformist movements but persisted with corruption and wealth hoarding. This left political space for populists who appealed to the masses while persisting with kleptocracy. In Thailand, mass resentment segued into a military coup in 2006, and in the Philippines, it gave rise to failed antielite/populist coup attempts in 2001 and 2006. In both countries, dynamics were mostly organic; the United States stood aloof of events. But both countries not only remained U.S. allies but were among Asia’s largest recipients of U.S. military aid as part of the war on terror. I discussed Bush’s predilection for the Philippines earlier, and its importance in the fight against terrorism compelled the United States to overlook the unusual coup dynamics and the mass resignation of senior officials from the Arroyo cabinet in 2005 after evidence of election rigging surfaced.110 In Thailand, some of the earliest coup conspirators arrested by police were from the counterinsurgency command, which had received training from the U.S. military. Bush also designated Thailand a “major nonNATO ally” in 2003—a title that carries the privilege of greater access to U.S. military hardware.111 This was obviously not because Bush loved military coups but because, according to some reports, Thailand not only served as a way station for U.S. troops to and

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from Afghanistan but may have operated a CIA “black site” as part of its extraordinary rendition program.112 To the extent that good governance existed in Asia, it had more to do with “pragmatic measures encouraging growth and development and to the emergence of a middle class . . . without ideological slogans or fanfare.”113 U.S. economic statecraft—including the pursuit of bilateral trade agreements, measures to open Asian domestic markets to foreign competition, and pressure on Asian economies to appreciate their currencies—worked against the very governmental efforts most needed to facilitate conditions for democracy. A region whose societies needed public goods provision, managed unemployment rates, and lower economic inequality was being fed prescriptions for precisely the opposite. And while the war on terror reinforced state power in Asia, bolstering the capacity of the state in a region where more than half of the governments were illiberal or outright despotic was hardly a boon for democracy.

George W. Bush’s Risk-Wager Balance The aloof hegemon’s wars in Afghanistan and Iraq perversely helped the Asian peace survive the Bush era. An open spigot on defense spending allowed the United States a margin of global dominance sufficient to keep its military presence in Asia—and by extension its alliance commitments—mostly stable even as troop requirements surged in the rest of the world. Because the U.S. military was tied down on multiple fronts already, the Bush administration lacked the bandwidth to apply the offensive, risk-acceptant policy preferences it exhibited in other regions to Asia’s flash points. And while terrorism proved a basis for sustaining détente with China, even if it had not, Bush embraced the belief that economic liberalization in China would beget political liberalization. Détente proved the most important way that the United States played the role of vital bulwark under Bush. But nobody in Asia was looking for a fight in the early twenty-first century anyway, not even China. Beijing’s efforts to promote perceptions of its peaceful rise really were a win-win for the region, in the near term. Paired with the United States narrowing its own relevance to that of a

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security ballast and source of military aid, China’s “good neighbor” policy helped fuel a more stable region through 2008: East Asian interdependence deepened, economic growth continued, and the region’s diplomatic architecture expanded. Yet the thicket of regional institutions—toward which the Bush administration was mostly hostile—deliberately dodged contentious security issues, including Taiwan’s fate, resolution of overlapping claims to the South China Sea, Chinese incursions into the Japancontrolled Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, and the inherent tensions between North Korean nuclear weapons and the U.S. military presence in Northeast Asia. Economic interdependence, meanwhile, meant forging trade dependencies with China, an approach that presumed China would remain a status quo power. It also presupposed that both China and the United States would sustain a basically cooperative bilateral relationship—even as the region was offering the dominant military power a diminishing share of its vitality, and the chief beneficiary was using its newfound wealth to amass a world-class military of its own. The Asian peace was beginning to face unfavorable headwinds.

chapter six

Pivoting in Posthegemony Asia

A

S 2008 CAME TO a close, America’s fiscal and military excesses started catching up with it. The war on terror persisted, requiring large budget deficits financed by foreign capital—making (somewhat unintentionally) the U.S. dollar indispensable to global capital markets. That year, the young senator Barack Obama rode antiwar sentiment into the White House by, among other things, promising to withdraw troops from Iraq. But it was not war that most directly threatened international stability; it was the economy. The United States had been disproportionately responsible for a global financial crash, and Obama became president just in time to deal with the aftermath.1 In a matter of months, the United States (as well as Europe and Japan) found itself in a deep economic recession, forced to spend $498 billion dollars through 2009 just to keep the global banking system solvent.2 The financial crisis had the potential to pose a singularly grave threat to the Asian peace. Economic vitality had not only become a prerequisite for domestic political legitimacy in Asia; as the previous chapters have shown, it incentivized suppressing territorial disputes and historical rivalries. In the immediate term, however, the crisis was not a turning point in Asia’s future (or America’s role in it) but rather a crucial moment of acceleration. In contrast with the United States and Europe, Asia’s crisis was both short-lived and

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primarily a problem of trade, not finance. Asia’s economic adaptations since the Asian financial crisis in 1997 had insulated it from the worst consequences of 2007 and 2008. This entrenched a preexisting narrative in Beijing and governments across Asia of not just U.S. decline but Chinese ascendance.3 From 2009 onward, China grew more assertive and outwardly ambitious in its foreign policy, bolstered by the view that Washington had delegitimized its own political and economic model. As the influential Chinese scholar Wu Xinbo argued at the time, “The Iraq and Afghanistan wars testified to the limit of U.S. military power, while the financial crisis revealed the fragility of the U.S. economy.”4 While Obama’s challenge thus transcended Asia, the region would not and could not be ignored. Ben Rhodes, an Obama speechwriter and eventually deputy national security adviser, said, “What we’re trying to do is to get America another fifty years as leader.”5 In Asia, that translated into what came to be known as the “pivot” or “rebalance.” Obama’s national security adviser Tom Donilon explained that “we looked around the world. . . . We were over-weighted in some areas and regions, including our military actions in the Middle East. At the same time, we were underweighted in other regions, such as the Asia-Pacific . . . our key geographic imbalance.”6 It was the rare regional strategy that almost entirely substituted for a grand strategy. Obama found himself navigating numerous latent and active conflicts in Asia, and from a less favorable position than any president since the late Cold War period. The pivot’s answer to the problem of Asian security, as its lead architect Kurt Campbell explained, was to sustain Asia’s “operating system,” which he understood as “the complex legal, security, and practical arrangements that have underscored four decades of prosperity and security.”7 It was a Burkean approach that invoked a tangled mess of international-relations concepts, but it was a boon for stability at a time of high volatility, growing Chinese hyperconfidence, and uncertainty about the future of the regional order.

Alliance Centrality After leaving office, Obama reflected that the point of his Asia strategy “wasn’t to contain China or stifle its growth. Rather, it

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was to reaffirm U.S. ties to the region,” and no ties were deeper than those with treaty allies.8 Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s de facto proclamation of the pivot in a 2011 issue of Foreign Policy called allies America’s “fulcrum” and identified “strengthening bilateral security alliances” as the first of six projects the administration would pursue.9 The 2012 Defense Strategic Guidance (DSG) document expressed a similar determination, asserting that “working closely with our network of allies and partners, we will continue to promote a rules-based international order.”10 And multiple secretaries and deputy secretaries of defense under Obama extolled how “it’s really those treaty alliances that remain the backbone of our presence in the Asia Pacific . . . and our entire global posture.”11 A crucial subtext of all the sweet talk about alliances as the foundation of stability was how it conceived of them as making Asia stable—a causal belief that dare not be expressed in official statements. Over the years, both liberal- and conservative-leaning scholars had identified alliances as mechanisms not just to deter war but to restrain and guide allies toward U.S. preferences.12 It is easier, after all, to influence friends than it is enemies. Yet you could not say in any on-the-record speech that America valued alliances because they constrain and direct allies away from risky or destabilizing foreign policy choices. When alliances were needed at crucial moments, though, that is precisely how the Obama administration approached them, and to good short-term effect. Obama’s team pursued what appeared to be an unprecedented frequency of engagements with allies, plus initiatives that both tightened bilateral ties and used them to stave off the most acute risks of war. In addition to meeting with allies on the sidelines of every multilateral meeting in the region spanning eight years,13 the Obama administration set up a series of new consultation mechanisms. With Japan and South Korea, Washington established extended deterrence committees in 2010 meant to reassure each country about the credibility of the U.S. “nuclear umbrella”— that is, the willingness to use nuclear weapons to deter attacks on those nations. The year before, the United States institutionalized Defense Trilateral Talks (DTTs) with Japan and South Korea, rekindling the lost Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group (TCOG) from the 1990s and generating cooperation from its two

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most politically antagonistic allies.14 The DTTs went beyond swapping notes on North Korea policy to actually coordinating new agreements while buffering their mutual antipathy. One Pentagon official summarized it all as reassurance: “All of our engagements, meetings, statements, exercises, site visits of nuclear bases—all of it was our way of reassuring allies. Whether it worked depends on how you measure it.”15 Beyond engagement thickening, the Pentagon made a number of Asia force posture decisions that allies made possible.16 Three of the four biggest military construction projects since the Cold War were under way in South Korea (Camp Humphreys) and Japan (Atsugi and Futenma Replacement Facility) respectively.17 With Australia in 2011, the Obama administration negotiated the “Darwin Agreement” for up to three thousand marines to be rotationally deployed in Australia’s northern territory, which geographically fronted the outer bounds of the South China Sea.18 And energized by the Scarborough Shoal incident (discussed hereafter), U.S. officials concluded the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA) with the Philippines in 2014, which provided legal coverage to allow for an increased presence of U.S. forces on a rotational basis (six-month stints). The EDCA did not permit the United States to establish permanent bases in the Philippines but did allow the construction of temporary facilities and the use of Filipino bases.19 These various force posture shifts were a form of costly signal meant to deter military aggression and buy down fears of U.S. abandonment in an epoch of economic recession and narratives about power transition. The administration also faced a number of crises—some more acute than others—during which it leaned on alliances to keep the immediate prospect of military conflict in check. After two North Korean attacks in 2010—in March and November respectively— South Korean policy makers began making noise about going nuclear themselves, seeking longer-range conventional cruise missiles to strike North Korean targets, and promising “manifold retaliation” in the event that North Korea drew blood with another provocation.20 South Korea did not directly respond to the March torpedoing of one of its naval frigates (killing forty-six sailors), but only because the United States steered President Lee Myung-bak

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toward a multinational investigation of the attack—for which North Korea denied responsibility—squelching the fervor for revenge. When North Korea launched an artillery barrage against South Korean marines at Yeonpyeongdo in November that year, President Lee actually scrambled fighters to bomb North Korean targets, but U.S. officials—including Secretary Gates, Secretary Clinton, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Mike Mullen, and even Obama—all called their counterparts in real time, imploring South Korea to stand down and not attack North Korea in response, eventually convincing Lee to return the fighters to base without incident.21 Over the remaining six years of Obama’s presidency, the United States used its various engagements with South Korea to reassure Seoul of Washington’s commitment but also restrain it from being able to launch attacks without U.S. approval. South Korea, in turn, tried to avoid being handcuffed by Washington the next time it saw fit to act against North Korea, pursuing defense reforms that included a “kill chain” concept of rapid precision targeting and the delegation of retaliation decisions down to the local command level (bypassing Washington).22 As a direct result of extended deterrence consultations, meanwhile, the United States began increasing the frequency of U.S. nuclear-capable bomber deployments in and around the Korean Peninsula. Although the nuclear-capable bombers were not trying to deter any specific North Korean actions and had no intent of launching an attack against the Kim regime, P’yo˘ngyang nevertheless pointed to the deployments and their increasing prevalence as justification for accelerating its nuclear and missile programs (which required more nuclear and missile testing).23 And Korea was simply the most volatile of multiple places where the United States was attempting to stave off conflict via alliances. In July 2010, as a way of countering China and putting frontline allies at ease (primarily the Philippines, but also new partner Vietnam), Secretary Clinton affirmed at the ASEAN Regional Forum that while the United States had no stake in sovereignty over the South China Sea, freedom of navigation there was nevertheless an enduring national interest of the United States.24 That September, a Chinese fishing vessel rammed a Japanese coast guard

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ship in the contested Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, leading in the following month to Clinton also clarifying that Article V of the U.S.Japan Security Treaty covered the disputed islands. Obama reiterated the applicability of the alliance to the Senkaku/Diaoyu territories in April 2014, the first time a president had affirmed the commitment. The U.S. alliance with the Philippines also became critical in the spring of 2012.25 In April that year, the Philippine navy detected eight Chinese vessels illegally fishing in the waters surrounding Scarborough Shoal, an area administered by the Philippines but claimed by China. The Philippine navy moved in to arrest the sailors manning the Chinese vessels, only to be stopped by a number of Chinese paramilitary ships that monitored them to prevent the arrest of their fishermen. For the next ten weeks, Chinese and Filipino government ships confronted one another in a stalemate, with both sides refusing to concede. Over time, China dispatched more vessels to not only outnumber the Philippine navy but also set up a rope barrier to physically trap Filipino fisherman or block their reentry. Eventually Chinese naval forces appeared just outside the area, signaling that they were ready to turn the situation into a military conflict if the Philippines decided to enforce its laws by arresting the fishermen. Adding pressure during these ten weeks, China also turned to its peculiar form of economic coercion, refusing to accept bananas exported from the Philippines, allowing the stock to rot, and temporarily banning the flow of Chinese tourists to the Philippines.26 According to Ely Ratner, deputy national security adviser to Vice President Joe Biden, a lack of direct communication between Beijing and Manila forced Assistant Secretary of State Kurt Campbell and a handful of other officials to become the “default interlocutor and referee.”27 After a period of shuttle diplomacy between the two parties, the United States brokered an agreement that would allow China’s fishermen to go unprosecuted and demilitarize the situation by having both forces withdraw from the area. Although the Philippine navy would have been within its rights to remain or even escalate, it was having trouble sustaining its position and, with a typhoon forecast to hit, had a face-saving excuse to withdraw and regroup. So the Philippines stood down on June 15, but Chinese forces remained, violating the oral agreement, and

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continued to occupy Scarborough Shoal as China’s own territory for years after. America’s investment in its alliances reinforced a general deterrence posture that increased the downside risks for China and any other actor that might entertain geopolitical opportunism: going to war in Asia would mean fighting the United States, even during an economic recession. Alliances also directly saved Asia from war multiple times. South Korea was determined to realize revenge against North Korea for its attacks in 2010, stopped only by U.S. officials (and in one instance President Obama) intervening to convince it otherwise. The case is a smoking gun confirming U.S. alliances as a positive force in sustaining a negative peace, not just in 2010 but in subsequent years during which Seoul champed at the bit with a “never again” attitude toward North Korean assaults. Neither regionalism nor democracy nor economic interdependence nor China can make any claim against the combustible events in Korea in 2010 or the stability on the peninsula thereafter. Korea’s negative peace in spite of a highly volatile military balance (North Korea has nuclear superiority, but South Korea has conventional military superiority) owes primarily to the deterrence that arises from the U.S.-South Korea alliance. A similar, though less harrowing, story could be told about war prevention in Scarborough Shoal. The positive interpretation is that the United States showed itself to be an effective mediator for peaceful dispute resolution and proved committed to the Philippines’ security. And by reaching a mutual agreement that would see both sides’ forces withdraw from the area, the United States was treating China with good faith. A more negative interpretation would be that U.S. officials had basically come up with a face-saving way to convince Philippine policy makers to back down and withdraw from Scarborough Shoal, ceding it to China by default. Given deep mistrust in Sino-U.S. relations, it is unclear why the United States should have believed China would reciprocate Filipino restraint on mere word alone. One could also take the view that imposing restraint on the situation came at the price of conceding contested maritime space to China and possibly emboldening it in future interactions; after these events, China reportedly began thinking about how to develop a “Scarborough model” it

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could apply to other disputes, exploiting what policy makers started describing as a “gray zone” of conflict.28 Regardless of whether we think of the U.S. response as clumsy, naive, or deft, it was risk averse in a manner that helped de-escalate the conflict—thereby keeping the Asian peace’s track record in place—by drawing on its alliance as its source of moderating influence.

Military Superiority Offsetting Vulnerability The pivot to Asia was practically synonymous with military prowess in spite of best efforts by the administration to downplay that dimension. Obama accepted the Pentagon’s reasoning that a dominant military posture was necessary for what he sought in foreign affairs: an asset to underwrite the credibility of U.S. commitments to defend allies overseas. As he relayed in Canberra in 2011, “As we plan and budget for the future, we will . . . preserve our unique ability to project power and deter threats to peace. We will keep our commitments, including our treaty obligations to allies.”29 It was also politically necessary for him to accept this pillar of establishment wisdom to draw down forces in the Middle East without being accused of isolationism. With the exception of Susan Rice, all of Obama’s cabinet-level appointees came from the Cold War generation, believing, in his words, that “a responsible foreign policy meant . . . an unwillingness to stray too far from conventional wisdom.”30 The foreign policy experts associated with the Democratic Party during Obama’s presidency had grown up repudiating the activist, antiwar grassroots of the party and fending off claims from conservatives that they were weak on security.31 Even Democrats in Congress who inveighed against defense budget bloat were keen to reassure that advocating spending cuts was “not an argument against America continuing to be the strongest nation in the world.”32 Their obsession with appearing stronger on national security than Republicans was foreshadowed in a 2003 manifesto signed by a number of influential future Obama appointees, including Michèle Flournoy, Kurt Campbell, and Michael McFaul. The manifesto declared, “Democrats will maintain the world’s most capable and technologically advanced military, and we will not flinch from

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using it to defend our interests anywhere in the world.”33 Tom Donilon made the causal connection explicit: “Regional security . . . requires a stabilizing American [military] presence.”34 But how much presence, and what kinds of capabilities? The administration was unanimous about pursuing deep engagement with Asia, but the military footprint that accompanied it was determined by the older cadre of technocrats; they were the most committed to (and most empowered to choose) a force structure based on the ability to prevail in two midsize wars in different regions in overlapping time frames as well as keeping up with China’s military modernization. This was a tall order in the context of an ongoing counterinsurgency in Afghanistan, a global war on terror with no end in sight, and legislative and public pressures to heavily reduce defense spending in the years after the financial crisis. Analysts warned that America faced “strategic insolvency” if it kept up the two-war standard while the cost of weapons platforms continued to rise.35 Obama’s first secretary of defense, Robert Gates, endorsed the two-war construct by default, though he acknowledged that China’s military challenge was growing: “Beijing learned from the Soviet experience, I believe, and has no intention of matching us ship for ship, tank for tank. . . . They are investing selectively in capabilities that target our vulnerabilities, not our strengths.”36 The Quadrennial Defense Review of 2010 reflected Gates’s focus on the wars of the day, but it also introduced “AirSea Battle” (ASB)—a conceptually vacuous placeholder for high-technology weapons investments to counter the PLA’s anti-access / area denial (A2/AD) operational concept.37 It was ASB, and the A2/AD challenge to which it responded, that started redefining military superiority as being able to handle not just wars with China but warfighting scenarios like Taiwan that gave the greatest advantage to China and posed the greatest challenge to U.S. forces. By defining military superiority as worst-case stress tests, U.S. defense planners constantly felt strategically inadequate despite prima facie preeminence, making what seemed like outlandish claims that the U.S. “gets its ass handed to it” in war games against China.38 After the 2010 QDR, in January 2012, the Pentagon issued a Defense Strategic Guidance (DSG) document that rebranded the

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pivot as a “rebalance” and rationalized devoting as much as 60 percent of U.S. naval and air capabilities to Asia in the context of the Budget Control Act of 2011 (a congressional mandate to reduce defense spending by $500 billion over ten years), as well as a decade of fighting in the Middle East and Afghanistan.39 Ash Carter, who served in the Pentagon from 2010 but only became secretary of defense in 2015, believed “this two-wars strategy really makes no sense.”40 He instead touted a standard of military superiority based primarily on outpacing Chinese military modernization. But Carter could not kill the two-war construct, complaining years later, “If a SecDef was to confess . . . he presides over a DOD that is not capable of winning two major wars at once, he would be massacred for his honesty.”41 As a result, defense strategy remained a Christmas tree of profligate spending in spite of budgetary constraints, chasing as much high-end capability as possible—via an initiative branded the “third offset strategy”—to prevail against China in a hypothetical future war, but still building a force and funding for the old two-war view, plus ongoing overseas contingency operations.42 The Obama administration went out of its way to try to ensure that its military presence in Asia aided, not threatened, the cause of peace. But the importance of restraint in concept gave way to coercive posturing in the real world. When the administration wished to communicate condemnation to P’yo˘ngyang, it would deploy an aircraft carrier strike group, increase the tempo of military exercises with South Korea, or deploy nuclear-capable strategic bombers.43 It also dispatched nuclear-capable bombers to the East China Sea to challenge China’s declaration of an air defense identification zone in 2013. And in the South China Sea, DoD made a routine of conducting freedom of navigation operations (FONOPs) meant to show that China’s artificial islands in contested territory would not be granted international recognition even though Washington knew, as one former official lamented, “a million FONOPs wouldn’t have changed China’s behavior.”44 But Ash Carter had found the Reagan-era offensive signaling games inspiration worthy. Beyond rendering the presence of nuclearcapable bombers a commonplace across Asia, in 2016, Carter personally boarded an aircraft carrier as it sailed through the contested

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South China Sea. Beijing, without a hint of irony, decried Carter’s action as proving “who was the real promoter of the militarization in the South China Sea.”45 In a move that was quieter and yet in some ways more provocative, in 2012, as an undersecretary of defense, Carter set up a Strategic Capabilities Office (SCO) that promoted technological solutions to coercive signaling toward competitors.46 Its very existence was treated as classified until 2016, so much of what it did remains publicly unavailable, but one of its most heralded successes was turning a navy antiaircraft missile into a system capable of attacking enemy ships—converting a defensive capability into an offensive one.47 This, of course, was a long-standing worry that Chinese strategists had expressed about U.S. missile defense: there was no way for America’s enemy to know that a U.S. missile was defensive only, though such had always been the claim of U.S. policy makers when it came to ballistic missile defense. The downside potential in confirming the worst suspicions of potential adversaries was immense, but for Carter and some strategists in the Pentagon, the deterrent value lay in the risk. The question it all asked, however, was how necessary any of it was for deterrence. Would China really have launched an aggressive military adventure if not for Carter appearing in the South China Sea or demonstrating some new weapon system? In the end, military superiority was evolving into what amounted to a qualitative arms competition, if not an asymmetric arms race; China’s A2/AD was an answer to U.S. military superiority demonstrated during the first Gulf War, which begot ASB as a counter, which itself was later renamed “Joint Concept for Access and Maneuver in the Global Commons” (JAM-GC) as it became clear that the concept basically just meant outslugging China with missiles from standoff range. The creation of SCO and its battlefield innovations were also a direct response to China’s military modernization.48 And both sides saw the latent potential in the South China Sea to alter the military balance between them. Yet at no point in this military-technical competition could anybody persuasively explain why it made sense to expect that these two nuclear states would be able to engage in conventional military conflict without escalation to nuclear war, which, aside from the human disaster of it, would moot the preceding nonnuclear military

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concepts. Taking all of this into account, it strains credulity to suggest that military superiority was indispensable to the Asian peace over the eight years of Obama’s presidency; it was indispensable to a doctrinally driven security dilemma that had the risk of war baked in. As with past eras, U.S. forward presence aided the cause of peace in the ambient sense of allowing Asian countries to hedge their trade dependencies with China. More importantly, it bought South Korea (and, less directly, Japan) out of chasing its own nuclear weapons—a move that would have increased risks of North Korean nuclear first use, to say nothing of the possibility of it compelling China to adopt a more hair-trigger nuclear posture.49 And without U.S. boots on the ground in Northeast Asia, the United States would have had no standing with South Korea to restrain its attempts to attack the North, which would surely have kicked off a renewed Korean War. But these were all virtues of forward military presence, which is not the same as superiority or a two-war standard or offensive signaling games against an adversary.

Great-Power Interdependence The two biggest sources of global economic productivity when the financial crisis hit, the United States and China, were themselves deeply economically entwined. But the shape of this relationship was unbalanced, taking the form of a massive (more than $250 billion in 2016 alone) Chinese trade surplus.50 Bilateral trade deficits are not inherently a problem, but financing a deficit of such scale through debt accumulation—and in service of national security rather than national investment—presented a unique political burden for the United States. This became a source of long-term dispute as both sides recognized it as unsustainable but had different prescriptions for remedy; the United States pressed China to appreciate its currency, while China badgered the United States to reduce its deficits and increase savings.51 Obama bemoaned this mutual dependence as shackling his freedom of action: “The world’s economy [was] hanging by a thread . . . [and] China held more than $700 billion in U.S. debt and had massive foreign currency reserves, making it a necessary partner in managing the

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financial crisis.”52 But it was obvious to Obama that escaping fiscal calamity meant at least trying to get along with America’s single largest creditor. So naturally, when Obama spoke at the first Strategic and Economic Dialogue (S&ED) with China in July 2009 (itself a newly elevated vehicle for engagement), he stressed the “shared interests” that “[compel] us to cooperate,” and that “the pursuit of power among nations must no longer be seen as a zerosum game.”53 Continuing the collaboration started in Bush’s final world-on-fire year in office, China and the United States pursued independent fiscal responses to the financial crisis under Obama but coordinated them closely. The scale of stimulus marshaled by the two great powers together had salvaged the global economy. America’s response was global in scope, investing some half a trillion dollars to aid not just ailing banks that were too big to fail but also large struggling corporations.54 Doing something only it could do, America took the unprecedented step of having the Federal Reserve offer U.S. dollars to any banks that sought them regardless of national origins; it was the single most important intervention in keeping the world afloat.55 Beijing’s stimulus, while a boon for global recovery, was targeted more to buoy itself and to some extent the rest of Asia, pumping $586 billion of public spending into the real economy starting in November 2008.56 Much of this took the form of ultimately unproductive loans that would need to be written off, but it had the desired effect of buying itself (and Asia) out of crisis. Beijing’s stimulus was hardly altruism, though, or even the strategy of a hegemonic aspirant. The CCP saw that some banks in China were being forced to close, export orders dropped off sharply, China’s quarterly growth was decreasing, and somewhere between 20 and 36 million Chinese workers were without a job.57 Supercharging investment was a deliberate attempt to stave off domestic instability and compensate for the damage wrought by the high proportion of China’s GDP made up of exports (35 percent when the crisis hit);58 it just happened to have positive knock-on effects for China’s neighbors. And while America restored global money markets, U.S. capital started rapidly fleeing the region in 2008 as U.S. corporations consolidated their domestic balance sheets by withdrawing their assets from Asia.59 China, by contrast,

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not only increased capital and credit availability but also established new bilateral currency swap deals with other Asian governments in the midst of the crisis, amounting to $118 billion in U.S. dollars.60 The contraction of U.S. investment in Asia thus coincided with China’s massive monetary and fiscal expansion. In the context of these countervailing trends, the East Asian economies worst hit by the 1997 financial crisis (Indonesia, South Korea, Thailand, the Philippines, and Malaysia) deployed massive economic stimulus programs of their own, further hastening postcrisis recovery.61 This collective move prevented the intraregional capital divestment that would have unspooled interdependence. Asia saved itself. Other than America’s role in propping up the global economy generally, the story of Asian political economy was the region’s own: a combination of loose Chinese lending, self-driven stimulus policies by national governments, and regional monetary architecture set up after 1997 that ensured nobody had to turn to the IMF again. And by the end of 2016, intraregional trade accounted for upward of 60 percent of all regional trade.62 Not only was this stabilizing for currencies and credit availability; it ultimately helped Asian states resist securing political legitimacy through fearmongering and nationalist demagoguery over territorial disputes. The region’s economic buoyancy paid off most directly in the form of a remarkably stable relationship between China and Taiwan during Obama’s tenure. That no crisis or near crisis had erupted across the Taiwan Strait had less to do with Sino-U.S. détente than the fact that Taiwan’s president during this era, Ma Ying-jeou, had bet his political fate on economic ties with the Chinese mainland—the same as everyone else. As economic intercourse between China and Taiwan increased, saber-rattling and war risks grew more remote, though Ma’s closeness to Beijing eventually triggered a domestic backlash.63 For all its political isolation, Taiwan was fully partaking in the economic flows crisscrossing Asia. Outside of Sino-U.S. bilateral economic relations, the only meaningful way in which the Obama administration tried to foster sustained interdependence in Asia was by continuing, and eventually cheerleading for, the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP)

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negotiations that the Bush administration had joined in its final year. TPP was initially conceived as a vehicle for ensuring the United States could realize what President Clinton had crassly stated at APEC in 1993: “We do not intend to bear the cost of our military presence in Asia and the burdens of regional leadership only to be shut out of the benefits that growth and stability brings.”64 The size and potential of the Asian market were something the United States did not want to miss out on, and TPP would make America part of it for the long haul. Of course, nobody in the administration conceived of America’s role in Asia’s economic order as being its primary debtor, which is what it had become. Instead, U.S. officials imagined an open door through which to pass the export of American goods and services to a region that already accounted for 40 percent of global GDP. It is hard to overstate how important TPP was to the Obama administration. Because it was the only name-brand initiative in the pivot to Asia that was not military in nature, Ash Carter said TPP was “just as important strategically as an aircraft carrier.”65 This was more than just a turn of phrase, hinting at the way in which the Obama administration started to securitize TPP after Sino-U.S. relations took a downturn under Xi Jinping. Consistent with the “national security case for TPP,” Secretary of State John Kerry coauthored an op-ed with Carter, warning that global stability depended on granting the administration trade promotion authority for the trade deal.66 Making the case at the end of his presidency, Obama too framed TPP as being fundamentally about the future of international order, saying, “We’ve got to make sure we’re writing those trade rules in the fastest-growing region of the world, the Asia-Pacific, as opposed to having China write those rules for us.”67 TPP was about setting rules and norms, just not exclusively so. Although China was not a party to it, the real strategic logic of TPP was locking in patterns of economic flows. It was the last best effort to prevent America from becoming the “Hessians of Asia”— a de facto mercenary whose only real value proposition to Asian governments was its military.68 Fear of American firms missing out on being part of emerging value-added supply chains in Asia was heightened by the alternative Sinocentric trade deal—the Regional

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Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP)—that Asian states were pursuing in parallel with TPP. As Kurt Campbell reasoned, “If sustaining Asian prosperity and autonomy requires new trade agreements and rules, the obvious question then is whose rules should form the standards.”69 This comment overlooked the possibility of Asia opting into both rule sets while America signed on to neither. Thus the Obama administration invested tremendous political capital and lavished bureaucratic attention on promoting, justifying, and trying to conclude and ratify the TPP. But it was all for naught. Obama’s whole-of-government press to realize TPP was stunningly tone-deaf to the politics of trade that had become much more acutely felt since the 2008 financial crisis. Inequality in America had worsened substantially in the twenty-first century, chronic underemployment had become a societal norm, and some six million lower-skilled jobs had been shipped overseas since the end of the Cold War.70 Free trade was among the culprits. It did not matter that a rising tide lifts all boats in the long run, or that automation might have been responsible for as much as 85 percent of the lost manufacturing jobs rather than globalization outsourcing per se.71 What mattered was that trade deals appeared to make it all worse. It was symbolic politics as much as it was a question of utilitarian political economy. Indeed, the Obama administration’s error, in hindsight, was in treating the TPP question as a narrowly technocratic (and later narrowly national security) question to the neglect of politics at home. How the pie was sliced, not just its size, ultimately mattered most to many Americans. Ultimately, the diversification of the regional economic order away from the United States and toward China limited Asia’s exposure to the 2008 financial crisis. It also meant that the region would not suffer from America’s failed bid to concentrate economic engagement in the TPP. Even without the United States, the eleven member states involved in TPP negotiations pressed on to conclude an updated version, referred to as the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP), in 2018. Economic interdependence was still a prominent source of the Asian peace, but it had become less contingent on U.S. policies than at any point since before the Cold War.

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The Last Days of Détente The Obama White House strained to hold together détente with China even as Washington’s conventional wisdom was pulling in the opposite direction. Its China policy was officially “engage and hedge”—the former referring to cooperation and the latter to military balancing. That high-level formula held from 2009 through 2016, but the tenor shifted more negative, and the opportunities for cooperation grew scarcer, over the span of Obama’s presidency. Obama did not personally see an imminent, or even inevitable, threat from China. As he recalled after leaving office, “If any country was likely to challenge U.S. preeminence on the world stage, it was China. And yet . . . I was convinced that any such challenge was still decades away—and that if and when it came, it would most likely happen as a result of America’s strategic mistakes.”72 His sense about China fit with a school of thought in the administration associated with Deputy Secretary of State Jim Steinberg and NSC Asia senior director Jeff Bader, and later Secretary of State John Kerry and National Security Adviser Susan Rice as well. After leaving office, Steinberg laid out the theory of the case in a book about Sino-U.S. relations, documenting his preferred concept of “strategic reassurance”: engaging regularly, communicating openly, and signaling military and political restraint toward China as a means of persuading it to mirror-image American restraint.73 In effect, by addressing potential sources of Chinese insecurity, the United States might prevent China from making dangerous choices in the future. In service of the greater strategic reassurance project, not to mention staving off financial disaster indefinitely, Obama agreed to a controversial phrase during his first visit to Beijing in November 2009 that would come to haunt his administration. In the otherwise boringly normal statement, both sides had agreed that “respecting each other’s core interests is extremely important to ensure steady progress in U.S-China relations.”74 For years afterward, Chinese officials badgered their U.S. counterparts with the phrase “core interests,” seeking U.S. quiescence in Chinese exclusionary control of areas where it wished to convey it had unique willingness to assert itself—defining Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Hong

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Kong, the South China Sea, and the disputed portion of the East China Sea as all belonging to this special category.75 If there were to be a legitimated sphere of influence in twenty-first century Asia, it would involve U.S. compromises relating to these areas.76 But Obama officials recognized the misstep and sought to distance themselves from the concept, only to temporarily endorse a new one in 2013, after Xi Jinping came to power seeking a “new model of major power relationship.”77 Echoing Xi, Donilon and his successor, Susan Rice, both publicly used the phrase a “new model of major power relations” to characterize détente with China.78 Although the phrase’s precise meaning was somewhat open-ended, the issues linked to it in speeches were always condominium-like: great powers working together to solve shared problems and manage the global commons. The fear from Asian allies and partners was that, like the notion of “core interests” itself, the phrase implied spheres of influence—circumscribing the sovereignty of smaller powers on the basis only of mutual agreement by the great powers. But Obama and Vice President Biden publicly and repeatedly expressed principled opposition to spheres of influence.79 Remarkably, they did so without acknowledging the formal U.S. sphere of influence in the Pacific Islands. By the end of 2014, as ties continued to sour, the Obama administration had stopped invoking either “core interests” formulations or a new type of greatpower relations altogether. That they had ever entertained special phrases with the Chinese hinting (perhaps unintentionally) at spheres of influence was a sign of stretching to preserve a productive partnership with China that ensured Asia remained stable. But China was changing, emboldened by its own growing importance in tandem with what it saw as America’s fall from grace.80 The starkest shifts in Chinese conduct are commonly associated with Xi Jinping’s rise in 2012, but from the earliest months of the Obama administration, U.S. policy makers saw a pattern of China pressing its own perceived advantages at America’s expense. Kurt Campbell, Obama’s Asia lead at the State Department, noticed from the start “an unmistakable sense emanating from senior Chinese interlocutors that China’s time was rapidly approaching on the international scene.”81 Indeed, signs suggested that China was moving in this direction before Obama even came to office. Chi-

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nese diplomatic and military assertiveness in the South China Sea, for instance, started in 2007.82 And President Hu, attending the G20 summit in November 2008, called, in so many words, for not only greater dilution of U.S. influence in international financial institutions but also diversification of the global reserve currency away from the U.S. dollar.83 When the G20 met again the following March, the head of China’s central bank reiterated the call to replace the dollar with a global reserve system.84 In the same month, Chinese naval ships harassed the Impeccable, an unarmed U.S. Navy ship conducting undersea surveillance in a part of the South China Sea that Beijing claimed as part of its exclusive economic zone (EEZ). The Chinese navy’s aggressive maneuvers risked sinking the ship if not for its captain complying with Chinese demands to cease operations and leave. The event served as very early confirmation bias in Obama’s Pentagon about Chinese revisionist intentions,85 though Robert Gates confessed, “We would later conclude that this action had been taken by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) without the knowledge of the civilian leadership in Beijing.”86 The wake-up call for many Asia watchers came in 2010 at the ASEAN Regional Forum. In a conversation about the South China Sea, Yang Jiechi, China’s foreign minister, stared directly at Singapore’s foreign minister and huffed, “China is a big country and other countries are small countries, and that’s just a fact.”87 In context, Yang was repudiating a proposal to multilateralize South China Sea dispute talks, but the bullying tone implied a clear break from the charm-offensive era. That year, China surged the frequency of its incursions into the disputed Senkaku/Diaoyu territories in the East China Sea against Japan’s coast guard. Before 2010, Chinese challenges to Japan’s administration of the islands were rare. From 2010 to 2012, a few dozen Chinese ships began appearing without permission, mostly without incident, though one rammed a Japanese coast guard vessel in September 2010. Then, in the summer of 2012, dozens of Chinese ships began appearing without permission every month—for years to come—some limiting their presence to the exclusive economic zone claimed by Japan, and others in the actual territorial sea.88 In November 2013, China’s Ministry of National Defense declared an expansive air

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defense identification zone (ADIZ) overlapping with the Senkaku/ Diaoyu Islands EEZ and a South Korean territorial claim, meaning that China reserved the right (not lawfully, but as an assertion) to control the identified airspace and challenge incoming aircraft.89 Decrying the declaration as “escalatory,” three days later the United States flew B-52 nuclear-capable bombers through the ADIZ airspace without advance warning.90 Obama’s playbook had become all about using military deployments to communicate rather than to directly threaten or change the behavior of others, though it was never clear whether the recipients of the message appreciated the distinction. In parallel with this friction in the East China Sea, starting in 2012, China had also initiated a multiyear land reclamation project constructing “artificial islands” in disputed South China Sea territory as a way of asserting its maritime claims. More ominously, and contrary to assurances that Xi Jinping reportedly gave Obama in 2013, China began placing military facilities, runways, antiaircraft artillery, and radars on the newly constructed islands, changing the geography of the military balance in Asia.91 Each post-2008 event and remark by itself could be dismissed, and indeed some scholars argued that there was nothing “new or assertive” about China’s sharp elbows.92 To be sure, there were proximate triggers that rationalized most of Beijing’s posture, which some analysts pointed to as a caution against overreaction or alarm.93 But these punctuations of assertiveness were a worrying pattern to policy makers, in Washington and across much of Asia.94 What would only come into the public eye later was that, in 2010, Beijing discovered that U.S. intelligence had deeply penetrated senior levels of the CCP, PLA, and Ministry of State Security.95 It was not just an embarrassment to the CCP but an existential threat to the regime; the large-scale intelligence compromise was made possible by the CIA exploiting the systemic corruption of the Chinese system.96 Against this backdrop, talk of strategic reassurance was not credible without commensurate action, which contextualizes incessant Chinese calls for the Pentagon to suspend “sensitive reconnaissance operations” (SRO) during Obama’s first term, which, while routine, could be interpreted as counter to a spirit of confidence building.97

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In spite of post–financial crisis collaboration, a witch’s brew of forces was dragging down Sino-U.S. relations and nudging both countries down a path of more open antagonism than had existed in prior decades. China’s perceptions that it was gradually supplanting the United States made China more willing to assert itself short of outright aggression while pursuing grand ordering projects that flouted U.S.-centric arrangements. The relative dwindling of America’s economic relevance to Asia—and the dominant view that the U.S. economic model had caused the financial crisis—was concentrating Asian economic interdependence on China to an unprecedented extent. Both countries’ intelligence services continued infiltrating and hacking one another to a degree that was more typical of Cold War competition than détente.98 And the ongoing doctrinal clash between A2/AD and the “Third Offset Strategy” similarly undermined surface-level cooperative rhetoric. So when Xi Jinping came to power in 2012, he was already riding the narrative wave of momentum favoring China’s rise and America’s decline, but he also had the domestic political problem of preventing the CIA from again penetrating the CCP. A clarifying moment about the direction Xi would take the country was the widely distributed Document No. 9 in early 2013, marking a decisive turn toward a kind of Leninist authoritarianism explicitly opposed to universalism, individual rights, and democratic institutions, all of which set the stage for a more open conflict of interests than at any point previously in the Asian peace.99 Xi’s emergence as strongman at home coincided with a more ambitious conceptualization of China’s foreign policy that seemed to seize its historical moment and accelerate the trends it believed were under way.100 To this end, and as a continual evolution away from the “peaceful rise” rhetoric of only a few years earlier, Xi emphasized a “community of common destiny” and a “New Asian security concept” that defined “Asia for Asians”—a regional order presumptively without the United States.101 China began concentrating on its peripheral diplomacy,102 continuing what it called “strategic comprehensive partnerships” with nations throughout Asia and beyond.103 If we take China’s own rhetoric about peripheral diplomacy seriously, this approach was a response to the recognized need for a peaceful neighborhood at a time when China

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seemed trapped in numerous disputes with its neighbors.104 In practice, though, these partnerships promised access to the China market and Chinese capital in return for political commitments: granting exclusive access to certain ports or pipelines, forswearing alliances with other countries that might be aimed at China, and denying the use of one’s territory or airspace to transit forces that might be used against China.105 It was rhetoric that, if faithfully acted on, would preempt the kind of American military encirclement of China that preceded the Iraq War, by constructing relations that had the character of a sphere of influence. It was also during Xi’s rise that China began announcing banner initiatives meant to stitch together a Sinocentric order: the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), the Maritime Silk Road Fund, the Lancang-Mekong Cooperation mechanism in Southeast Asia, and the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) that spanned the entire Indo-Pacific region and beyond.106 These new multilateral institutions were as grandiose as they were initially vacuous. They gave China disproportionate (even unique) leverage within the institutions, excluded the United States, accrued symbolic capital to the China brand, and responded to real material needs of Asian governments. But they were also underspecified. What projects would they undertake, anyway? What would be lending criteria or terms for default? How transparent would governance be? How much money would actually be available and over what timespan? Obama officials understood these institutions as the architecture for a regional order that excluded the United States. Their perceptions were colored not just by Xi’s talk of “Asia for Asians” but also by greater Chinese assertiveness in territorial disputes with Japan, the Philippines, and Vietnam. Yet, other than unsuccessfully cajoling allies not to join the AIIB,107 the United States was fairly passive. Consistent with “engage and hedge,” Washington channeled its competitive impulse into hedging against a future aggressive China through military-technical competition, closer ties to allies, and the creation of “principled security networks” of trilateral and quadrilateral military cooperation (focused heavily on Australia, India, and Japan).108 As an Obama official relayed, even though “there was no receptivity to the concept of a

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G-2”109 after the Xi-Obama summit at Sunnylands in 2013, the White House resisted the pull of a Thucydidean confrontation and preserved détente anyway, with Susan Rice taking charge of the relationship with China and flying to Beijing three times on her own in addition to the routine scheduled engagements.110 And there was a lot to resist to keep détente alive. The White House, for instance, tried to stop the Pentagon from even using the phrase “great power competition.”111 Ash Carter was a lone voice in the cabinet on China, seeing it in fairly black-and-white, revisionist terms, calling it a “communist monolith” bent on rectifying a “century of humiliation” at the hands of the West during the age of empires.112 And at that time, the Pentagon was the stronghold in the U.S. government for tough action against China. Carter and his deputy Robert Work frequently spoke of greatpower competition as the frame for understanding why the Third Offset Strategy was so important. But a competitive military buildup had failed to address the immediate problems China posed, so DoD tried to push the rest of the interagency to take actions in a competitive spirit. Yes, we can blow up Mischief Reef, but that’s no solution. . . . Can you sanction dredging companies? Can you freeze China out of certain diplomatic initiatives. . . . Can you threaten economic coercion of certain kinds? The IA [interagency] was very reluctant to desecuritize security issues [that is, compete outside the military domain].113 Meanwhile, in the think tank scene, it was de rigueur to produce research publications, conference talking points, and congressional testimony pontificating about how best to—not whether to—compete with China.114 The Obama White House could do nothing to rein in this intellectual echo chamber, and China’s selective assertiveness only seemed to validate Washington’s diagnosis of China as rival. Yet China’s new assertiveness in foreign policy did not necessarily mean China was intent on military aggression. Some saw the pivot as “a strategy that was meant to check a rising China [but]

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has sparked its combativeness and damaged its faith in cooperation.”115 Others assessed that Chinese leadership had been much more restrained than it could have been in response to Obama’s Asia strategy, and friction owed to “a basic difference in perspective between Beijing and Washington regarding the essential requirements for continued regional stability and prosperity.”116 Still others offered a basically defensive interpretation of some of China’s boldest actions, arguing that its unresolved territorial disputes have placed it in a number of security dilemmas—situations over which China may be willing to fight and is prepared to do so, but politically speaking, would prefer not to.117 While it remained a point of debate whether China would use outright aggression in pursuit of its goals, it was unquestionably willing to challenge and circumvent America’s conceptions of international order while Asia-Pacific governments grew ever more economically dependent on it. The risk had always been present that Asia’s engagement and socialization strategies toward China would fail to restrain its international conduct, or that the gun sights of socialization would be reversed, and China, not smaller powers, would be doing the influencing.118 That would leave America’s security commitments as the region’s fail-safe, thereby setting up the conditions for greatpower rivalry. Détente during Obama’s eight years in office had diminishing payoffs for the Asian peace, but it held anyway, barely. The idea of a “G-2 condominium,” so prominent (if controversial) just before Obama took office, was quickly overtaken by events.119 China sometimes played within, and sometimes routed around, what America saw as the “liberal international order.” China did nothing to discourage North Korea’s violent gambits against South Korea in 2010 and only occasionally worked with the United States to issue condemnatory statements or introduce sanctions for North Korea’s rapidly advancing nuclear and missile programs. The Korean Peninsula was barreling toward a crisis, and China would not be bothered to intervene. Sino-U.S. détente also did not impede Beijing’s rising assertiveness in the East and South China Seas. And by 2016, it was abundantly clear that Xi Jinping was taking China not in a liberalized reformist direction as a result of American engagement but in a neo-Leninist authoritarian one.

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But détente was not devoid of advantage. For one thing, it forestalled a global economic meltdown that would have left Asian states strategically listless. It also produced agreements between the U.S. and Chinese militaries for operational procedures aimed at ensuring that incidents in the air or at sea did not inadvertently spiral into war.120 And in a perverse way, détente inhibited the U.S. response to PLA actions that risked generating crises, particularly in the East and South China Seas. Replaying the events of Scarborough Shoal in 2012 or the Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands in 2013 in a context of rivalry rather than détente could have invited profoundly different outcomes. But the bloom was long since off the rose in Washington. While Obama and the White House staff were always of one mind about China—believing that China’s choices were still shapeable121— theirs was a view that Washington’s intelligentsia of think tankers and former officials had already abandoned.

Engaging Regional Architecture and Dictatorships The Obama administration sought to enhance the legitimacy of Asian regionalism, empower existing multilateral institutions, and resist new Sinocentric ones—all in the name of a mostly aspirational liberal political and economic order that was never fully compatible with how many Asians saw their own neighborhood.122 In this way, regionalism and democracy promotion sometimes overlapped in practice. Even when they did not, they were anchored by the same somewhat bland approach: engagement. By demonstrating a commitment to liberalism and socializing others to its virtues, deep engagement would cause liberal practices—in governance and foreign policy—to proliferate.123 It had been Obama’s guiding principle from the days of his 2009 inauguration, when he promised that “we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.”124 And Obama himself believed that “we can rarely achieve [democratic reforms] through unilateral American action.”125 But engagement did not have the desired effects. Economic regionalism was deepening, with the United States in its most peripheral role in two generations. Multilateral diplomatic activity thrived during this era but was proving increasingly

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outmoded by the security flash points that most directly threatened war. And democracy-promoting efforts were not just unsuccessful; democracy itself had become at best a neutral factor in sustaining any kind of stability. The pivot to Asia had liberal intergovernmentalism—that is, a cooperative order based on the sovereign equality of states and institutions with the ability to make and enforce rules—as part of its ends and means. Ahead of an Obama trip to the region in 2012, Donilon name-checked EAS, ARF, APEC, and the Shangri-La Dialogue before stressing that “our goal is to support and strengthen ASEAN as an institution so that it can more effectively promote regional stability, political and economic progress, and human rights and the rule of law.”126 The idea was that ASEAN centrality served regional architecture best because ASEAN members were not only their own bloc but also members cross-matrixed into the institutions that America most valued: EAS, ARF, and APEC. This represented a different kind of thinking than had occurred in prior presidencies. The administration wanted to functionalize regionalism—that is, make it capable of managing contentious geopolitical issues and sustaining order in a tangible, rather than just performative or symbolic, way. As Clinton would say in an entire speech about regional architecture in 2010, “It’s more important to have organizations that produce results, rather than simply producing new organizations. . . . Our institutions must be effective and be focused on delivering results.”127 Ben Rhodes’s missive that the Obama administration aimed to “get America another fifty years as leader” necessitated legitimate, capable regional institutions to lengthen the shadow of Washington’s influence.128 More concretely too, Obama’s team was making an unprecedented wager on the stabilizing benefits of a regionally agreed-on order. Ely Ratner explained that the United States needed to support ASEAN centrality, EAS, and ADMM-Plus because enhancing Asian cohesion would “limit China’s ability to isolate individual states,” as it did the Philippines in 2012.129 This ran counter to the processual emphasis of the ASEAN way but shared an aspiration similar to ASEAN’s founding anticolonial pose, differing only in that the circumstances had changed so much since the 1960s that regional solidarity now depended on the (carefully calibrated) involvement

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of a major outside power to check interference by another major outside power. The administration did a lot to actualize this thinking and the larger project of architecture building. Contra Bush, Obama not only joined EAS but elevated it to a presidential-level event and defined it as America’s preferred regional institution, as past presidents had done with APEC. In 2009, Obama signed the ASEAN Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (which Bush had avoided), held the first ever U.S.-ASEAN summit, and began repeatedly stressing the principle of ASEAN centrality as the orientation of its multilateral efforts in speeches and meetings across the region. The United States also joined the ASEAN Defence Ministers’ MeetingPlus (ADMM-Plus) in 2010, a new region-wide confab for defense diplomacy. In 2011, Obama appointed the first resident U.S. ambassador to ASEAN. And in a much-appreciated move, Obama invited all of ASEAN’s leaders to a summit at Sunnylands (Rancho Mirage, California) in 2016—the same place where he had hosted Xi Jinping in 2013 for what was hoped would be the beginning of a “new type of great power relations.” The symbolism suggested that ASEAN, and regionalism more broadly, had replaced China as the center of U.S. policy toward Asia. Because of gestures like this, regional elites and opinion makers saw the Obama administration as unique among presidencies for the way it “understood and appreciated regional diplomatic culture.”130 Obama’s deep engagement with regionalism mirrored how he tried to support the democratic franchise in Asia. The administration used its endless stream of meetings with ASEAN to encourage making real use of the Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights that ASEAN created in 2008.131 It continued to collaborate with Thailand militarily despite its rampant corruption, antimajoritarian politics, and a 2014 military coup. It cultivated close business and political ties to Malaysia’s president Najib Razak even as he illegally siphoned billions of dollars from the Malaysian people through a sovereign wealth fund.132 It lavished attention on its newest partner, Vietnam, not only welcoming it into the TPP trade negotiations but going so far as lifting prohibitions on the sale of weapons in May 2016.133 That same year, Obama also filmed an episode of Parts Unknown in Hanoi with celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, where

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Obama did not mention lifting the weapons ban but did stress that engagement would bend the arc of history favorably, implying that was why he was in Vietnam in the first place.134 And in what the administration once touted as its biggest Asia policy success before becoming its biggest failure, it opened up relations with Myanmar in 2011. That year, Clinton made the first visit by a secretary of state in fifty years, announcing soon afterward the “targeted easing” of sanctions against the military-dominated government in Naypyidaw.135 The State Department and the NSC spent years cultivating ties with President Thein Sein’s regime to give it an alternative to its growing dependence on China, as well as to preemptively foreclose the possibility of Myanmar developing nuclear weapons. But it also lobbied patiently and persistently for the longtime political prisoner Aung San Suu Kyi’s (ASSK) release from house arrest, to allow her to run again as president, and to rule the country if elected. As U.S.-Myanmar ties warmed and sanctions continued to ease, ASSK was permitted to do precisely that, running for office and winning in 2015, becoming the government’s nominal president. All this cooperation culminated in a self-gratifying celebration of the bilateral relationship at the Four Seasons hotel in Washington on September 15, 2016. ASSK was in town, trying to figure out the full extent of forthcoming sanctions relief, herself wary that the administration might be allowing too much money to flow into the coffers of the military junta and therefore undermining democracy.136 As with every presidency, there was a gap between word and deed, or between the ideas articulated and the conduct of actual policy. On regional order, Obama’s preference for a particular kind of order—a liberal one—translated into opposing the Sinocentric AIIB, the idea of a BRICS Development Bank, and the highly illiberal Shanghai Cooperation Organization.137 Curiously, it did not translate into the United States relinquishing its own formalized sphere of influence in the Pacific; Guam, American Samoa, the Marshall Islands, Palau, and the Federated States of Micronesia remained clients with circumscribed sovereignty. The United States also opposed the RCEP regional trade deal in favor of TPP, even though RCEP had originated as an ASEAN initiative in May 2011. Obama additionally balked at the China-preferred East Asian Free Trade Area proposal,

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which was not immediately feasible anyway, requiring regional integration a step beyond RCEP. In democracy promotion too, Obama made countless deviations from the rule of exemplarist engagement. With China, the United States sometimes suppressed human rights talking points and made little public noise about the plight of the oppressed Uighurs in Xinjiang but had no problem criticizing China as an authoritarian regime that should not be trusted to write the rules of regional order.138 With North Korea, the region’s worst systematic human rights abuser, the United States tied offers of humanitarian assistance to progress in nuclear negotiations and, after those negotiations fell apart in 2012, relished taking a name-and-shame, sanctions-based approach to P’yo˘ngyang’s despotism. The real problem was that Obama had no angle on how to leverage regional or pro-democracy engagements for stability; circumstances called for more than simply showing up. Regionalism, while vibrant in finance and monetary policy cooperation that excluded the United States,139 was quietly fracturing in the face of contentious territorial disputes and an undercurrent of mistrust. In keeping with the administration’s pull toward a functional approach to institutions, the Obama administration pushed EAS to address security issues despite its original “low politics” mandate,140 but the region’s response was tepid. Just as when the United States in the 1990s and early 2000s had pushed members of APEC to do things members resisted—like voluntary but binding trade liberalization or coordinating counterterrorism policies—regional leaders mostly just nodded and politely fobbed off the demands as a failure of collective will.141 Clinton used the ASEAN Regional Forum in 2010 not only to declare that America had a stake in the peaceful resolution of South China Sea disputes but also to encourage ASEAN claimants to multilateralize their disputes with China. Clinton succeeded at injecting security topics into events like ARF, but not at having the multilateral venues do anything about them. ASEAN’s consensus politics gave each member a veto over its agenda and cooperation. This tension between functionalism and consensus came to a head in July 2012, when Cambodia chaired the ASEAN ministerial meeting. Every year the ministers issued a joint communiqué affirming what was discussed and agreed on. When the Cambodian

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representative saw that the joint communiqué was to mention (and implicitly give a light rebuke to) China’s occupation of the Scarborough Shoal, he had sidebar consultations with Chinese counterparts before coming back with a rejection of the language.142 Stymied, the ministers failed to issue the most basic statement of cooperation mentioning the foremost security concern in their subregion, which occurred again because of Cambodian blockage in 2016.143 Cambodia and Laos depended heavily on China for trade, finance, and investment.144 China leveraged that dependence to ensure that ASEAN and its regional cognates never evolved in the way Obama officials had envisioned—and the way that some ASEAN members preferred. On the Rohingya genocide in Myanmar too, Asia’s security architecture could do nothing to stop it, and the United States was hardly in a position to force the issue, given its engagement with Naypyidaw. ASEAN members discussed aid and made arrangements for refugees on a bilateral ad hoc basis, but ASEAN as an institution was not configured to so much as condemn Myanmar’s ongoing slaughter publicly, because it was a member of ASEAN. The results of America’s attempts at democracy building were even bleaker than they were for regionalism. For the first time in a generation, democratization had no meaningful connection to the Asian peace. The illusion in Myanmar notwithstanding, no new conversions to democracy took place on Obama’s watch. China was actually becoming more repressive under Xi Jinping. Malaysia’s kleptocratization had become flagrant shortly after Obama came to office, and the attempt to portray a close relationship between Obama and Najib laundered the latter’s reputation even as unrest at home grew and Najib arranged for himself to have unlimited national security powers in 2015.145 And by 2016, in Myanmar, the same government that was engaging in so many niceties with American diplomats had begun waging a campaign of genocide against the Rohingya. The Obama administration’s eagerness to open Myanmar unintentionally rewarded the military there mightily—in the form of access to foreign currency, international investment, and alleviation from sanctions that had been isolating the country—while it perpetuated one of the greatest tragedies in a generation.146

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And where democracy existed, regime type appeared to be a nonfactor in geopolitics, or worse. Thailand’s volatile flirtations with democracy were orthogonal not just to its alliance with the United States but also to its microconflict with neighboring Cambodia that originally erupted in 2008. Over the next five years, Thailand fought with Cambodia over the sovereignty of the Temple of Preah Vihear and 1.8 square miles around it. The dispute did not reach the threshold of militarized conflict by any statistical standard—the minimum of twenty-five battlefield deaths—but nevertheless involved military deployments, Thailand’s use of cluster bombs, the razing of buildings, and occasional firefights.147 The conflict was contained because of “habits of peace” internalized in ASEAN.148 Both sides had permitted interventions by fellow ASEAN observers and the International Court of Justice; the incitement, simmering escalation, and resolution had nothing to do with the United States despite involving a U.S. ally.149 Electoral democracy in the Philippines, meanwhile, which similarly in no way depended on the United States, actually brought Rodrigo Duterte—a populist demagogue with authoritarian tendencies—to power in 2016. What all of this illustrates is that, by 2009, it had become somewhat wrongheaded to view political and economic liberalism—as well as efforts to promote it—as a meaningful source of regional peace. Of the various potential reasons for desiring liberalism in Asia, its impact on stability had become the weakest. Far more important than elections or economic liberalism per se were measures of good governance: low unemployment, rising education levels, legal checks on the arbitrary exercise of power, and manageable levels of inequality and corruption. Not coincidentally, they were the kinds of measures missing from Myanmar as its military marched toward genocide even as it held a mostly free and fair election.

Obama’s Risk-Wager Balance Obama’s pivot to Asia helped keep the region out of war, but did not—and arguably could not—do much to position the United States or the region for long-term stability. The 2008 financial crisis was a moment in which America was financing a growing debt

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burden to pay for ruinous wars and a military that, strangely, was by far the world’s most expensive and yet, according to Pentagon advocates, not optimized for the future. And at the same time that the United States was averting global financial catastrophe, bailing out banks, and climbing out of recession, China was expanding economic access to its neighbors, striking a triumphalist note in its foreign policy, and pushing its territorial claims to an extent it had not in the earlier unipolar moment. This combination of trajectories threatened the most elemental assumptions underpinning Asian policy elites’ long-standing political and national security strategies. The economic rise of China—and its central place in cross-border supply chains—was the fuel for growing interdependence and a key justification for individual statesmen to continue banking political legitimacy on development and trade rather than revanchism or ethnically divisive demagoguery. But forging dependencies with China in this way presumed that (1) America would remain anchored in the region as a check on the possibility of Chinese aggression, (2) the United States and China would maintain stable relations, and (3) China would restrain its own assertiveness abroad as it became enmeshed in a regional order from which it benefited. None of those assumptions had yet been baldly disproved, but by 2016 they were all coming under tremendous strain. In this context of heightened uncertainty, Asia faced the possibility of conflict on many fronts—not only North versus South Korea but also Thailand versus Cambodia; Myanmar as a regional spillover conflict; and China versus Japan, India, the Philippines, and Vietnam. The Asian peace survived because the Obama administration demonstrated a high sensitivity to easily visible risks, relying on statesmanship and goodwill to manage and mitigate conflicts from the Korean Peninsula to the South China Sea. In this sense alone did U.S. statecraft under Obama serve as a vital bulwark keeping the peace. Paradoxically, however, some of America’s bubbling troubles in Asia stemmed from the philosophical conservatism that made it good at crisis management. Preserving military superiority was getting technologically harder, more expensive, and more politically contentious, but a public conversation was not even happening in

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Washington about alternative defense strategies. U.S. officials had become aloof of their own waning hegemony, and their increasingly distorted self-image was leading to questionable risk-taking. America’s attempts to reassure nervous allies with shows of military strength were creating potentially poisonous commitment-trap dynamics: upping the price of reassurance by constantly creating new precedents for what the United States had to do to mollify ally fears, stretching the scope of what it was willing to threaten war for to cover ever more ambiguous areas, and potentially generating insecurity in the adversaries watching its military signaling. Economic interdependence was alive and well, but it disproportionately empowered China, relegating America to a debtor and export destination while giving Beijing a preponderance of leverage over smaller Asian states. And the basis for détente with China depended on charitable readings of its intentions, yet its actions served to empower Washington’s foreign policy hawks. As Obama was leaving office, the quality of peace in the region was eroding, and the durability of its underlying sources seemed far less certain than at any time in a generation.

chapter seven

The Risk-Wager Imbalance of the Trump Era

W

HEN DONALD TRUMP CAME to office in January 2017, he did so promising to upend U.S. foreign policy, and with it the regional order that existed in Asia. What he ended up doing was far less revolutionary but still consequential. The forces shaping Asia’s future were already in motion—somewhat unfavorably for the United States—and Trump accelerated them. By 2017, a narrative had emerged about the apparent “choice” that Asia’s middle and secondary powers faced regarding alignment with either China or the United States rather than with both in different domains.1 One by one, Asian states had chosen to expand trading and investment relationships with the PRC, conclude bilateral free trade agreements (FTAs), and endorse China’s regionspanning economic initiatives like the Belt and Road (BRI) and AIIB.2 But this arrangement, which coincided with states worrying more about growing Chinese belligerence in its territorial disputes,3 depended on China and the United States maintaining peaceable relations themselves—a premise that had become tenuous at best. Trump met this complex environment with a sultanistic approach to foreign policy, centering national security more on his

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whims and predilections than on any coherent theory of the country’s interest.4 The haphazardly hawkish approach of his administration narrowed and embrittled the sources of the Asian peace. It unwound the great-power fiscal coordination that had saved the world from economic calamity less than a decade earlier, removed incentives for China to pursue a restrained foreign policy, sowed deep doubts about America’s staying power in the region, allowed a genocide in Myanmar to continue going unanswered while indirectly encouraging a new one in Xinjiang, and brought Asia closer to nuclear war than at any point since the darkest days of the Cold War. Although the situation was partly America’s doing and partly beyond its control, the Trump era ended with Asia’s future resting on flimsy foundations.

Military-First in the “Indo-Pacific” The only consistent investment the Trump administration made in relation to the Asian peace was a dominant U.S. forward presence, and on this it bet big. Every year of the Trump presidency saw increases in defense spending over the prior one. So whereas Congress approved $586 billion for the Pentagon in the final year of the Obama administration, by 2019 the defense budget had grown to $716 billion, and then in 2020 grew further still, to $738 billion.5 Since World War II, the only time the U.S. defense budget had been this high was during the peak of the Iraq War surge, in 2007.6 And as had been the case in the Reagan and George W. Bush years, the explosion in defense spending was paired with lowered taxes, once again creating massive budget deficits paid for through mostly foreign borrowing. This represented the most political of several reasons why runaway military budgets were difficult to maintain.7 But budget sustainability was a long-term problem. In the immediate term, spending north of a half trillion dollars annually on defense made it easy not just to maintain forward presence in Asia but to grow America’s military footprint in the region. The Pentagon’s mantra under Secretary of Defense James Mattis and his successor, Mark Esper, was literally “peace through strength,” a trite phrase that Reagan had popularized.8 The NSC also elevated “preserving peace

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through strength” from cliché to one of its “enduring vital interests.”9 And while Trump’s defense team explicitly sought a “favorable balance of power,” as did Reagan and every other president in the post–Cold War era, the rhetoric justifying it was often congruous with Obama, Bush, and Clinton: “to safeguard the free and open international order.”10 But “free and open” rhetoric was not representative of U.S. statecraft in practice. In one infamous meeting at the Pentagon in July 2017, Mattis tried to persuade Trump that “we learned the hard way that we had to be forward deployed. . . . We can’t defend effectively from America’s one-yard line. Our presence abroad also supports . . . the free and unfettered flow of global trade.”11 Trump was not having any of it, complaining, “We’re paying too much money and getting nothing in return!”12 Neither was Trump’s chief strategist and campaign manager, Steve Bannon, who supported Trump’s instinct by saying, “We’re expending too much money maintaining a continual presence overseas.”13 The invocation of liberal rhetoric was thus indirectly a fight about force posture itself. The more nativist Trumpians, along with Trump, did not see forward basing as necessary for military dominance, or even as an advantage—especially in Asia. The more conventional neoconservatives in the administration, however, as well as the lion’s share of career civil servants in the Pentagon, saw military superiority as impossible without forward presence, and a rules-based order centered on the United States as impossible without military superiority. The liberal rhetoric, in other words, was a way of trying to outmaneuver the Trumpian faction within the administration that would seek to gut America’s forward military position in Asia and Europe. The NSC seemed to split the difference in this debate, at least conceptually. Evidence suggests that the NSC thought of military superiority as underwriting international commitments, but more directly as serving “U.S. strategic primacy”—a term of art explicitly referring to “diplomatic, economic, and military, preeminence.”14 This phrase, with this precise understanding of its meaning, was used in a paper declassified by the NSC just as Trump was leaving office in January 2021. The document, which tried to set out a framework for Indo-Pacific decision-making in the Trump administration, claimed that a “loss of U.S. preeminence in the Indo-Pacific

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would weaken our ability to achieve U.S. interests globally.”15 It was logically problematic, given that the same document defined “peace through strength” as one of its four paramount interests—meaning that loss of “preeminence” threatened the goal of having “strength.” In addition to whatever benefits might accrue to a position of primacy, the document appeared to claim that, at bottom, Trump officials also sought power for power’s sake. Understood more charitably, the document was saying that a negative peace, achieved through the projection of preeminent strength, was as good as it gets; there was no deeper peace to be had. At a level more granular than the grand strategic abstractions of liberal order and primacy, military superiority was being configured differently than in the past. Mattis shifted to a defense paradigm of great-power competition; the two-war construct had officially lost its grip on the Pentagon. The new standard emphasized the most cutting-edge capabilities to prevail in areas where China’s advantages might be greatest, which the NSC defined as “(1) denying China sustained air and sea dominance inside the ‘first island chain’ in a conflict; (2) defending the first-island-chain nations, including Taiwan; (3) dominating all domains outside the first island chain.”16 The first-island chain referred to an imaginary perimeter that ran from Japan to the Philippines (Taiwan lay inside this perimeter, making it the tougher challenge). Because all of Taiwan was within range of China’s air defenses, it was generally understood that denying China air superiority over Taiwan would entail an incredibly high-cost, high-casualty military operation targeting the Chinese mainland, because that was where its air defense systems and air bases were. To “win” in this contested environment, the military would need a large and advanced suite of weapons systems; thus the China-Taiwan scenario was an attractive basis for defining military superiority. While Mattis and the 2018 National Defense Strategy stressed that the joint force would no longer be sized for counterterrorism, and the priority would be “lethality” against a high-end warfighting adversary (implicitly inside the first-island chain), the size of the defense budget in the Trump years meant no real trade-offs needed to occur to plow investment into research, development, and acquisition of wideranging advanced capabilities.

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Beyond force structure itself, the NSC and parts of the Pentagon believed that stability would come from “imposing costs” on competitors and demonstrating resolve; a favorable balance of power was not enough. Pursuing deliberate friction with adversaries—an idea whose genealogy ran from Andy Marshall through Reagan, up to George W. Bush’s Pentagon and over to Ash Carter in the Obama years—appeared in the Trump era as euphemisms about being “operationally unpredictable,” engaging in “dynamic force employment,” and “forcing [enemies] to confront conflict under adverse conditions.”17 Creating risks of war while actually avoiding disaster was the point for Trump-era decision-making. While deterrence was holding on a continuous basis, the administration suffered from a belief that it was being “lost” and needed to be “restored.”18 Parts of the Pentagon and the NSC came to believe that deterrence worked differently than most experts on the subject had concluded,19 with the commander of U.S. Pacific Command at the time stating publicly that “Deterrence = Capability x Resolve x Signaling.”20 The banal simplicity of formulizing deterrence in this way belies the profound implication. By elevating “signaling” to a cause that has a multiplicative effect on deterrence as an outcome, the national security establishment locked itself into conducting military deployments, bomber overflights, and other forms of posturing to fulfill the belief that being provocative was necessary to maintain the status quo. The most directly coercive signals reflecting this formula took aim at North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong-un. Goaded by Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric and Kim’s open defiance of UN Security Council resolutions, the Pentagon increased troop presence in Northeast Asia, the frequency of nuclear-capable bomber deployments to South Korea, and the size and tempo of military exercises with the South. It also transited between one and three aircraft carrier strike groups through the region at any given time—all in addition to the standing U.S. presence in the region and the new occasional deployments of special operations forces and an F-22 stealth fighter squadron to South Korea. These moves were part of a familiar repertoire but were repurposed to be deliberately provocative, part of a campaign of “maximum pressure” to convince Kim to abandon his nuclear weapons. They also coincided with the

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regularization of gratuitous war threats against North Korea. At the UN General Assembly in September 2017, Trump fatuously warned that the military will “totally destroy North Korea” and that “Rocket Man is on a suicide mission for himself and his regime.”21 Yet the calls for preventive war were everywhere, not limited to Trump. Multiple Republican senators encouraged the preventive use of force. Senator Lindsey Graham said, “If they test another weapon, all bets are off. . . . I am literally willing to put hundreds of thousands of people at risk.”22 Admiral Dennis Blair, who had served as Obama’s director of national intelligence, urged “air and missile strikes against all known DPRK nuclear test facilities and missile launching and support facilities” if North Korea tested another nuclear device.23 Senior officials in the administration repeatedly boasted that “all options are on the table,” including military strikes.24 John Bolton, who would become Trump’s national security adviser just as the crisis was ending, wrote in the Wall Street Journal advocating a preventive attack against North Korea as a coercive measure, arguing that it was legally defensible as “preemption” despite no attack being imminent on the United States. Officials on the NSC even leaked that the administration was contemplating a strike on Kim Jong-un, intending to give him a “bloody nose.”25 U.S. military posturing against China was more removed from the immediacy of war but reflected what the Pentagon now referred to as the “competitive mindset” of cost imposition and positioning for advantage all the same.26 It increased the frequency of freedom of navigation operations (FONOPs) in the South China Sea, withdrew from the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty with an explicit aim of developing and deploying a new generation of ground-launched cruise missiles against China,27 insisted publicly for the first time that China “withdraw its missile systems from disputed features in the Spratly Islands,”28 advertised its investments in winning a burgeoning arms race with China and Russia in hypersonic missiles,29 and expanded arms sales to Taiwan. And at a dinner during Trump’s first meeting with Xi Jinping at Mar-a-Lago in April 2017, Trump leaned over to gleefully inform Xi that the United States had just launched forty-nine cruise missiles at targets in Syria—a choice that Obama had declined to make

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and Washington cheered as a flex of U.S. resolve. The choreography of the attack did not have to happen during the Xi dinner; Trump wanted it to.30 In subsequent weeks, Trump surrogates in the think tank circuit, as well as Vice President Mike Pence, would tout the strikes on Syria as the ultimate “signal” of U.S. toughness.31 The totality of the Trump administration’s moves and military signals against China communicated a heightened willingness to confront it and North Korea. But coercion games needed to be anchored in something costlier for America’s enemies, more “strategic.” The old Office of Net Assessment view of competitive strategy—making moves that cause trouble for your adversary—had already taken hold of the China-watching imagination in Washington in the twilight of the Obama era.32 The least costly way of going about this, which had ample cachet when Trump became president, was enlisting India in a de facto coalition against China. Before Trump even came to office, Australia and Japan had socialized U.S. counterparts to the virtues of thinking about the balance-of-power game in terms of the Indian Ocean.33 It was a part of the world uniquely vital to Australian and Indian security, given their geography. For Japan, it was an opportunity to pull India eastward while drawing Beijing’s resources and attention away from Northeast Asia. Seizing on this geopolitical logic, the Obama administration tried to organize a “Quad” coalition with India, Japan, and Australia on the sidelines of every annual Shangri-La Dialogue meeting but had trouble getting all four to agree to do so consistently—in part because it looked to everyone like an anti-China balancing coalition.34 Nevertheless, the Indian Ocean region came to be seen as the next big flash point,35 the same way the South China Sea had taken center stage during the Obama era. So when Mattis started preparing the national defense strategy, his remark that “we need to find a way to expand the competitive space” with China had a ready proposal: the Indo-Pacific-ization of Asian defense policy.36 The NSC called internally for “accelerating India’s rise” as a geopolitical check on China.37 So did a leaked document from the State Department’s Office of Policy Planning that painted China’s Marxism-Leninism as the ideological threat of our times (discussed in the next section).38 The Trump administration also undertook

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an intelligence-sharing relationship with India’s military, providing situational support to India’s forces in the Himalayas during their standoff with China.39 And it lobbied for Indian leadership within EAS and ADMM-Plus and sought to expand defense cooperation with New Delhi.40 The administration’s most visible effort to play the Indian Ocean game was its high symbolic emphasis not just on employing the Indo-Pacific itself as a stand-in reference for “Asia” but also on making the Quad with Australia, India, and Japan real. The Quad had the good fortune of being something nearly everyone in Washington supported. Liberal internationalists could see value in a coalition of democracies. Great-power neoconservatives and Cold War–minded strategists saw the Quad as the best serious attempt at external balancing against China. Democrats could appreciate that the Quad was continuing something pursued under Obama, and that it was multilateral. Even Steve Bannon— who openly romanticized European fascism and laced his policy advocacy with racially charged thinking41—converged on this issue with the Washington consensus. Bannon’s answer to the China challenge was not just economic competition but also building the Quad into an alliance of democracies to encircle China in what he characterized as an inevitable civilizational struggle.42 The Trump administration enjoyed more success than Obama in getting the Quad to meet.43 Yet beyond a single joint naval and air exercise in November 2020, the Quad was still more totemic than tangible during the Trump era, its military signal to China muddled by “little evidence of coherent strategic intent among them.”44 By maintaining and even expanding U.S. forward presence, Trump’s policies provided historical continuity of a kind. America’s allies most worried about Chinese aggression—Australia and Japan—took comfort in a more confrontational approach to China, though allies too had recurring misgivings, discussed hereafter. And despite Trump’s open skepticism about forward presence, its necessity to maintaining military superiority meant that the American military footprint in Asia was never in jeopardy, which meant most Asian states could avoid paying any real price for hedging between U.S.-centric security and Sinocentric prosperity. Some even argued that curating a large and cutting-edge military

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force ensured the United States would be in a position to uphold a deterrence-based stability far into the future.45 Yet to the extent that we can view these things as benefits, they were built into the status quo policies inherited from the Obama era; they were largely not new payoffs from the new decisions. They were, moreover, wildly disproportionate to the risks incurred. The military-centrism of America’s approach to Asia was one of many aspects of U.S. conduct that undermined confidence in the competence of U.S. decision-making and polarized regional opinion (disproportionately negatively).46 Expanding arms sales to Taiwan, combined with other deliberatively provocative symbolism, made Taipei more of a focal point for bellicose rhetoric from China than it had been in the recent past. By the end of Trump’s time in office, China had resumed bandying about threats of invading Taiwan in propaganda videos and via CCP-backed newspapers, something it rarely did during the Obama-Ma years.47 Joseph Wu, Taiwan’s foreign minister, worried aloud in 2020 that “the threat is on the rise. . . . We need to be extremely cautious. . . . We need to also be very careful to avoid letting Taiwan become an excuse for China to declare war.”48 But the most direct threat to peace arising from American statecraft was on the Korean Peninsula. By imposing costs, generating friction, and communicating a willingness to use force—all in the name of reversing North Korea’s nuclear capabilities—both the United States and North Korea ended up threatening and positioning for nuclear war, repeatedly. U.S. officials, Trump chief among them, ignored North Korea’s history of responding to outside pressure with coercive pressure in kind.49 Past crises on the Korean Peninsula were traceable to some surprise North Korean act of aggression that had been not just forewarned but a reaction to perceived U.S. pressure policies. Failing to see that North Korea would respond to U.S. coercion with reflexive defiance rather than capitulation, the Trump administration unwittingly accelerated Kim Jong-un’s acquisition of a reliable nuclear and missile capability with the range to strike U.S. territory. Worse, the process of pressure-forpressure, which exploded into an acute nuclear crisis, only ended because Kim achieved the nuclear deterrent he had been chasing since coming to power in 2011.50 The Trump administration effectively

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ceded control over whether war happened to luck and an adversary it was actively provoking.

Great-Power Rivalry and Economic Decoupling Trump came to office with Sino-U.S. political relations already strained to the breaking point, but with economic relations stable. China and the United States still maintained what Larry Summers called the “balance of financial terror”—because of their mutual economic dependence.51 But Trump did not have to lift a finger to turn détente with China into outright rivalry; he only had to give political breathing room (which Obama’s White House had denied) to the now urgent sense in Washington that China was the dominant threat of its time.

An Overdetermined Confrontation Some economic neoliberals in the Trump administration saw close ties with China as crucial to the U.S. economy: Gary Cohn (National Economic Council director), Steven Mnuchin (treasury secretary), Dina Powell (a senior appointee in the NSC), and to some extent Rex Tillerson. The great-power competition (GPC) crowd, by contrast, contained a mix of more conventional albeit hawkish liberal internationalists, economic protectionists, and thinly veiled white supremacists. With this combination of dispositions, SinoU.S. rivalry was inevitable, especially as Xi Jinping began venerating the role of the CCP in steering the economy in 2017 and 2018, which undermined future expectations of further market liberalization.52 It was only a question of how economic interdependence would figure into rivalry, and whose views would inflect the guiding narrative. Aloof of the administration’s competing voices was Jared Kushner, Trump’s son-in-law and personal consigliere with Beijing. Kushner had severe conflicts of interest with China53 and brought no geopolitical priors to the job; “Everything is negotiable; he as a real estate guy thinks there are win-win solutions for everything,” estimated one official.54 All the same, Trump trusted Kushner to informally manage the relationship, along with an unrealistic

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number of other complicated issues ranging from government reform to Middle East peace. Henry Kissinger had introduced Kushner to Chinese ambassador Cui Tiankai in the interregnum between Trump winning the election in November 2016 and taking office in January 2017. Kushner and Cui would regularly meet thereafter, sometimes privately (without China experts or notetakers present). Initially, Trump told Kissinger to relay to Xi Jinping that “everything was on the table in terms of bilateral cooperation.”55 Through a series of private meetings that followed, Cui and Yang Jiechi—China’s state counselor and a longtime “America hand”—tried to convince Trump, via Kushner, to agree to a “new model of great power relations,” respect for what China now referred to as its “core interests” (Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Hong Kong, and the South China Sea), and endorsement of what was then called China’s “One Belt, One Road” initiative.56 But the valence of Sino-U.S. relations was already too starkly negative; personal diplomacy was not about to reverse that. Kushner helped Trump pursue a transactional and ultimately frustrating relationship with Xi Jinping. Trump frequently boasted on Twitter of his friendship with Xi, repeatedly praised Xi’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic,57 and in 2019 claimed that he “stands with Xi” as China was violently suppressing pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong.58 As with all of Trump’s foreign policy, his “I alone can fix it” mantra lent itself to leader-level interactions that frequently appeared at odds with what the U.S. government was trying to accomplish.59 And because he sat above the neoliberal and GPC infighting about China policy, Trump had some unique positional power to slow or accelerate the direction of things. Yet, as the liberal international-relations scholar Joseph Nye remarked about Washington in 2019, “the more anti-Chinese you can be, the better your future career.”60 In 2017 the administration was uniquely and ahistorically preoccupied with North Korea’s nuclear capabilities, but as that crisis cooled down in 2018, hostility toward China warmed up. Trump’s National Security Strategy (NSS) and National Defense Strategy (NDS), issued in December 2017 and January 2018 respectively, picked up and amplified the GPC theme of the Pentagon in Obama’s second term. These documents—and their overwhelming prioritization of the

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China threat—were crucial focal points for bureaucratic energy and resources. No matter how Sino-U.S. relations would have proceeded at a political level, the administrative state itself had adopted a confrontational, zero-sum outlook. In decades past, U.S. policy makers had found ways to live with China’s illiberalism, assertiveness, and counterhegemonic ambitions. No more. Many liberal internationalists, including key advisers to Joe Biden, saw a course correction as overdue.61 But the words and deeds of U.S. policy intensified rivalry well beyond simply a course correction from the Obama era, betraying the notion that the anti-China zeitgeist was solely about preserving a rules-based order free from war. A substantial cross section of Trump’s political appointees saw a clash with China as civilizational, implicitly racial, and by extension inexorable. Kiron Skinner, director of policy planning at the State Department and protégé of Condoleezza Rice, made the pointed assertion that “this is a fight with a really different civilization and a different ideology. . . . The Soviet Union and that competition, in a way it was a fight within the Western family. . . . [China, by contrast is] a great power competitor that is not Caucasian.”62 Skinner’s office led a project that elevated the China threat to the grand strategic challenge posed by the Soviet Union in the 1940s, making the self-flattering analogy that her task was akin to that of George Kennan, the author of the containment doctrine during the early Cold War.63 Skinner’s views were hardly anomalous. Her project in policy planning continued after she left the administration and was eventually leaked in the form of a long manifesto about the threat that China’s Marxist-Leninist “totalitarian surveillance state” posed to the West.64 The declassified NSC paper on the Indo-Pacific, moreover, stated that the administration’s baseline assumption was that the threat from China was at root “owing to the divergent nature and goals of our political and economic systems.”65 National Security Adviser John Bolton also acknowledged that U.S. China policy has “elements of Samuel Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations.”66 As secretary of state, Pompeo made numerous statements painting China as a grand enemy of the republic, the most provocative of which was delivered at the Nixon Presidential Library in July 2020, where Pompeo accused Xi Jinping of seeking “the global

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hegemony of Chinese communism. . . . The People’s Liberation Army . . . its purpose is to . . . expand a Chinese empire.”67 Attorney General Bill Barr said, “The CCP rules with an iron fist over one of the great ancient civilizations of the world. It seeks to . . . overthrow the rules-based international system.”68 Steve Bannon, similarly, had been speaking of the China threat in elliptically racial terms since his days running the far-right news site Breitbart. The same year as Skinner’s civilizational admission, Bannon launched the Committee on the Present Danger: China (CPDC) with the conservative conspiracy theorist Frank Gaffney. The original Committee on the Present Danger had been launched as a fifth-column propaganda arm of McCarthyism in the early Cold War, whipping up anti-Soviet hysteria. Now, in 2019, Bannon was putting the committee in service of anti-China furor, issuing a deliberately alarmist statement that read: “Communist China represents an existential and ideological threat to the United States and to the idea of freedom—one that requires a new American consensus . . . to defeat this threat.”69 Bannon reached out to various Democrataligned media outlets in hopes of forging that anti-China consensus, even granting an unfiltered interview with the progressive magazine American Prospect in which he appealed for the American Left to support an “economic war” against China.70 What all of this shows is that there was more at work in America’s motivations for confronting China than simply concerns about rules-based liberalism, which Trump had at any rate railed against during his presidential campaign. There was something farcical about a president running against liberal internationalism and then using its defense as the reason for casting China as a threat. Most of the animosity toward China predated the COVID-19 pandemic starting in March 2020, which had a way of further racializing and conspiratorializing what was now an entrenched rivalry. Pompeo, Trump, Peter Navarro, and Senator Tom Cotton regularly called COVID-19 the “Wuhan virus,” the “China virus,” and the “Kung Flu”—thinly veiled racist flirtations that helped stoke antiAsian hate crimes in the United States.71 They also claimed—without presenting evidence—that COVID-19 was created in a Chinese lab. It was an idea taken so seriously that Deputy National Security Adviser Matt Pottinger pressured the U.S. intelligence community

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to confirm it.72 Some Trump surrogates were even spreading the conspiracy theory that COVID-19 was a Chinese bioweapon and therefore an attack on the United States.73 These vilifying moves were consonant with a fifty-seven-page campaign guidance document issued by the National Republican Senatorial Committee in April 2020. It directed conservatives running for office to say, “Don’t defend Trump, except for the China Travel ban—attack China”; “Coronavirus was a Chinese hit-and-run followed by a cover-up that cost thousands of lives”; Democrats are “soft on China”; and “push for sanctions on China for its role in spreading the pandemic.”74 The winning strategy in American politics, they claimed, was rivalry with China as a distraction from the Trump presidency, which by the time of the election in November 2020 was responsible for a pandemic body count in the United States of 250,000.75 China was hardly guilt free in the onset of rivalry. Xi Jinping was ideologically purifying the CCP’s rule with a renewed emphasis on both ethnonationalism and an authoritarian neo-Leninism, both of which masked the party’s functional oligarchy. China was unapologetic for, and persisting with, a history of unbalanced trade and regulatory practices that developed market economies had long tolerated. The CCP’s espionage against the United States had intensified since Xi Jinping assumed power. Its foreign policy had produced a pattern of structural violence in its periphery,76 and its order-building ambitions were unquestionably at odds with U.S. preferences. The PLA’s military modernization, moreover, was aimed foremost at checking the U.S. way of war. And China responded to COVID-19 accusations and racial slurs with a new pattern of comically aggressive, self-described “wolf warrior” diplomacy and disinformation of its own, including a conspiracy theory that COVID-19 was created and dispersed by the U.S. Army.77 It all provided confirmation bias for a Washington primed to see the worst in China, making rivalry overdetermined.

Divesting Economic Order and Great-Power Decoupling Sino-U.S. economic relations were in many ways at the center of the new rivalry. Steve Bannon spoke for everyone except the economic neoliberals in the administration when he said, several

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months before the first tariffs were imposed, “We’re at economic war. . . . One of us is going to be a hegemon in 25 or 30 years and it’s gonna be them if we go down this path.”78 But other than what appeared to be side payments to Trump’s private business interests,79 and a sloppy attempt to have China investigate Hunter Biden (the son of presidential candidate Joe Biden),80 Trump tended to focus on only two concerns when it came to China: eliminating the bilateral trade deficit and somehow resolving the North Korean nuclear problem. He got satisfaction on neither. After a year of groaning about China “raping” U.S. businesses,81 in July 2017, Trump told his cabinet, “I’m ready for a trade war with China.”82 After China’s failure to curb North Korean nuclear and missile testing, Trump announced the first round of tariffs on washing machines and solar panels in January 2018. He followed this with tariffs on steel and aluminum in March, and then in April an announced list of more than 1,300 Chinese goods that would be targeted with tariffs to penalize Chinese “forced technology transfer” practices and—Trump hoped—reduce the trade deficit.83 And so it went. Trump claimed that “trade wars are good, and easy to win,”84 and on Twitter narrated, “We are not in a trade war with China, that war was lost many years ago by the foolish, or incompetent, people who represented the U.S. Now we have a Trade Deficit of $500 Billion a year, with Intellectual Property Theft of another $300 Billion. We cannot let this continue!”85 Trump had started a trade war with America’s largest creditor, which was possible to do without triggering economic Armageddon because both sides still respected the “balance of financial terror”; the economic blows struck by Beijing and Washington were risky and unprecedented, yet more restrained than news headlines suggested. China’s purchase of U.S. Treasury securities declined during the four years of Trump’s presidency, but its overall holdings remained higher than those of any country in the world.86 Contrary to the professed aim of tariffs, the U.S. bilateral trade deficit actually grew during the Trump era to the highest level since before the 2008 financial crisis.87 And there were limits to how much the United States could cut off Sino-U.S. trade, given China’s central role in the supply chains of many U.S. businesses. Some Chinese exports to the United States were products manufactured for U.S.

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companies, using raw materials often procured from either the United States or ally countries. Still, the trade war, combined with an emergent rivalry, set in motion a process of partial economic decoupling. In response to the March 2018 tariffs, Cui declared that China was preparing retaliatory tariffs of its own on U.S. goods, saying that “protectionism will not protect anybody. . . . We have no alternative but to fight back.”88 China promptly imposed a 25 percent tariff on 106 U.S. products, including soybeans, which were a major agricultural interest group in U.S. politics.89 Despite recurring negotiations and the claim of a modest and unfulfilled “Phase I” trade deal in 2019—which amounted to a fleeting cease-fire—new tariff impositions were announced intermittently for the rest of Trump’s presidency. All told, the United States imposed tariffs on over $550 billion of Chinese imports, and China imposed tariffs on $185 billion of U.S. imports.90 More important than the tariffs were the attitudinal shifts toward decoupling that they reflected in Beijing and Washington. The Trump administration frequently contradicted itself about the desirability of economic decoupling.91 But the administration’s practices spoke louder than its words. The United States launched a global diplomatic campaign against Huawei, the Chinese statebacked telecommunications firm that was the leading provider of 5G technology. It banned the sale of ZTE and Huawei phones on U.S. military bases,92 banned forty-one companies from doing business with the Department of Defense for having links to the PLA,93 and introduced new sanctions in summer 2020 on Chinese firms and officials associated with the internment of Muslim Uighurs in Xinjiang.94 In September 2019, the Treasury Department expanded the review and blacklisting authorities of the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS), a once purely technocratic body that vets foreign capital and business transactions on the basis of national security interests. The empowerment of CFIUS was part of a cultural shift the Trump administration ushered in that created a toxicity around doing business with China. In 2018 and 2019, U.S. intelligence officials publicly cautioned against American consumers buying Chinese telecommunications products, especially from Huawei.95 FBI

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director Christopher Wray made an unprecedented statement in July 2020 decrying China as “the greatest long-term threat. . . . China is engaged in a whole-of-state effort to become the world’s only superpower by any means necessary,” stressing its intellectual property theft and economic espionage.96 The administration also tried to politicize Five Eyes—a Cold War–era intelligence sharing network including Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom—by arranging collective public statements meant to stigmatize China.97 The result of these changes inhibiting economic ties and the broader investment climate was that Chinese foreign direct investment (FDI) in the United States dropped almost 90 percent during Trump’s tenure, from a historic peak in 2016 of $46.5 billon down to only $5.4 billion by the end of the first year of tariff wars in 2018.98 But China too had grown pessimistic about economic interdependence, or at least America’s central role in it globally. Under Xi Jinping, security took on even greater precedence than in the earlier go-go globalization period, which paralleled an academic literature that warned of “weaponized interdependence”—that is, latent vulnerabilities existing within asymmetrically dependent relationships that can be converted into coercive leverage.99 China’s more sober view of interdependence—as both coercive opportunity and potential threat—predated the tariff war with Trump. China’s experimentation with economic coercion against the Philippines, Japan, Mongolia, and South Korea took place in the Obama years.100 In 2015, the Made in China 2025 initiative aimed specifically at domestic substitution and self-reliance in seven of ten high-technology sectors by 2025.101 In 2017, Xi Jinping remarked that “international economic cooperation and competition is undergoing profound changes. . . . The pressure for us to deal with external economic risks and maintain economic security is incomparably greater than in the past.”102 Accordingly, Xi oversaw a shift in emphasis away from using interdependence to grow the economy and gain access to new technologies in favor of viewing it as “a source of risk” to be mitigated and “a source of leverage” to be exploited.103 By 2020, Xi Jinping’s economic vision prioritized increasing domestic consumption and reducing reliance on the United States. Xi

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now promoted a somewhat fuzzy concept of “dual circulation” whereby China would attempt to selectively capitalize on globalization externally—by more explicitly focusing on smaller economies participating in its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) as a hedge against Western markets—while promoting greater domestic consumption and reduced savings.104 Although the BRI was an infrastructure and development initiative, it was also the most tangible expression of Xi Jinping’s vision for a more Sinocentric reshaping of global governance.105 Because member nations were smaller, moreover, their interdependencies with China would naturally favor the latter. And crucially, BRI countries collectively held out the promise of a destination for China’s excess manufacturing and construction capacity as U.S. demand dried up. Overproduction relative to domestic consumption persisted in China because of durably high levels of inequality between party-aligned oligarchs and workers, preventing workers from consuming the outputs of their labor. Keeping factories employed without large wage increases required finding foreign markets.106 Thus China was proceeding to gird itself for a Cold War with the United States by partial decoupling of its own accord; Trump’s trade war and accompanying rivalry validated the shift. The Trump administration was at best cavalier with, and at worst actively hostile toward, regional economic interdependence. The NSC’s internal strategy framework for the Indo-Pacific sought among its numerous goals to retain “economic preeminence” in Asia, but it was an illusion; the United States enjoyed nothing close to economic primacy in the region by the time Trump took office. In 2001, the year China acceded to the WTO, every market-oriented economy in Asia traded more with the United States than with China, but by 2018 the trend had completely reversed.107 Consequently the integration of Asia’s political economy was increasingly vulnerable to shifts in Chinese policies, but not Sino-U.S. decoupling per se. To the extent that U.S. disengagement left a hole in Chinese demand that needed to be filled, there were even scenarios where regional trade could benefit from great-power decoupling. Rather than isolate China, Trump succeeded in marginalizing the United States economically relative to China. On his third day

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in office, he withdrew the United States from TPP negotiations on the mistaken belief that “it’s a deal that was designed for China to come in, as they always do, through the back door and totally take advantage of everyone.”108 China was not a party to the TPP, and the other eleven governments who were negotiating it concluded a revised “Comprehensive and Progressive TPP,” without the United States, in March 2018.109 RCEP, moreover, the China-centered alternative to TPP from which the United States was also absent, turned out not to be an alternative at all but rather a complementary hedge for many Asian and Pacific governments. RCEP too concluded in November 2020 without the United States. TPP and RCEP were locking in future flows of goods and services, albeit with very different standards, and forming the basis for an eventual Asia-Pacific-wide free trade area.110 What is more, while the U.S. government identified the BRI as being part of a Chinese bid for global hegemony, most of America’s close allies and partners had scrambled to join the BRI, including South Korea, the Philippines, Thailand, New Zealand, Singapore, and Indonesia. These new economic arrangements were added to Sinocentric patterns of regional trade and a bevy of multilateral mechanisms to coordinate fiscal and monetary policy (discussed in the previous two chapters), which also happened to exclude the United States. America’s de facto decoupling campaign—including tariffs, divestment and diversification initiatives, restrictions on investment, blacklists, and the larger anti-China cultural zeitgeist—did far less damage to Asia’s political economy than if the United States were still economically preeminent. Economic regionalism remained solvent, but with a balance of influence that tilted ever more toward China and away from the United States. Given the severity and comprehensiveness of the rivalry between China and the United States, including the increasingly civilizational and ideological tone of its belligerents, it is fortunate that no militarized conflict—or even acute crisis—erupted between the great powers during Trump’s reign. The Trump administration promoted an image of China as a threat to the American way of life that harkened back to the red-baiting days of the early Cold War. China’s actions only further stoked animosities, spreading disinformation after the COVID-19 outbreak, becoming

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more assertive in its territorial claims, and introducing highly belligerent “wolf warrior” diplomacy. Yet, for the moment, the United States was threatening neither war nor intervention. But the relationship that had jump-started the Asian peace so long ago had utterly foundered. If another regional crisis surfaced, not only could Asia not count on Sino-U.S. collaboration to dampen it; one or both of the great powers were likely to be directly involved in its eruption.

Alliance Contradictions Liberal internationalists within the administration pressed for a traditional pro-alliance agenda wherever they could, but their efforts repeatedly ran headlong into Trump’s personal animus toward democratic allies, as well as those around Trump who cosigned his “America First” nativism. The foreign policy dimension of Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign was consumed entirely with reducing bilateral trade deficits and trashing alliances, framing past U.S. presidents as “suckers” being taking advantage of by America’s supposed friends. Japan and South Korea were among the biggest targets of Trump’s criticism. On several occasions, he implied that he would withdraw U.S. troops from Northeast Asia, and he openly conditioned U.S. security commitments on unspecified payments, describing alliances as protection rackets.111 He even indicated a willingness to live with the consequences of a U.S. troop withdrawal in the event the allies did not pay what he desired, shrugging off Japan and South Korea obtaining nuclear weapons (the default alternative to their alliance with the United States) on the grounds that “it’s going to happen anyway—it’s only a question of time.”112 This anti-alliance disposition contrasted with the important rhetorical place that allies enjoyed in the administration’s strategy documents. Mattis mentioned allies flatteringly in every speech before a foreign audience. The NSC’s internal framework document for the Indo-Pacific similarly acknowledged that alliances were “key to deterring conflict and advancing our vital interests.”113 The bureaucracy tried to persist with alliance management business as usual unless orders for a specific deviation were given.

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But in the July 2017 meeting at the Pentagon referenced earlier, the veneration of allies triggered Trump’s anti-alliance agitation. The reason Trump had always been against forward military presence was its reliance on host nations, whom he believed were getting a great deal at America’s expense. Bannon echoed Trump’s views on alliances, saying, “They’re not allies, they’re protectorates.”114 In the world of nativist American politics, it was not alliances and military superiority that were conjoined but rather bilateral trade deficits and alliances. “Our trade agreements are criminal. . . . Japan and South Korea are taking advantage of the United States,” Trump groaned repeatedly. He wanted Japan not just to make offset payments for the partial relocation of U.S. troops from Okinawa to Guam but to cover the cost of maintaining that presence in Guam—a U.S. territory.115 Of the South Korea alliance, Trump cried, “It’s a losing deal. . . . If [South Korea] paid us $60 billion a year to keep our troops overseas, then it’s an ok deal.”116 Trump even lumped South Korea in with China, complaining, “South Korea has been a major abuser. China, South Korea . . . they both rip us off left and right.”117 It thus came as little surprise to Trump’s critics when the administration started making decisions that by turns offended, confused, and unnerved America’s Asian allies. Tariffs aimed at China negatively affected exports from Australia, Japan, and South Korea, though they were granted some belated exemptions. When the Philippines’ strongman president Rodrigo Duterte—known for being stridently anti-American—declared he would be canceling his government’s Visiting Forces Agreement with the United States, Trump encouraged him, saying, “I don’t really mind if they would like to do that, it will save a lot of money.”118 The United States also presented 400 percent increases in its cost-sharing demands for basing troops in Japan and South Korea respectively, without offering any new rationale for the maximum rent seeking.119 The lack of meaningful justification for what was widely seen as sudden extortion suggested there was some validity to claims that the Trump administration saw allies as mere protectorates. Consequently, even close allies confessed doubts about America’s staying power; much depended on the extent to which Trump was a feature of, or bug in, the American system.120

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But the arguably greater damage done to America’s standing with allies was undermining confidence in U.S. competence—not just whether the United States was willing to risk war for allies, but whether U.S. officials were even competent to manage the risks of attacks on them in the first place. During the North Korean nuclear crisis in 2017, Trump’s repeated salvos of insults and regimeending threats were a constant source of surprise and dread for South Korea. President Moon Jae-in, who came to power suddenly in May 2017 via a snap election and played a large role in postcrisis diplomacy but was sidelined during the nuclear crisis itself, protested in vain that “military action on the Korean Peninsula can only be decided by South Korea. . . . The government, putting everything on the line, will block war by all means.”121 Yet as Trump blustered to the brink of nuclear war, he was not even consulting with South Korea or Japan—the two countries destined to suffer most in a war with North Korea—about what he was going to do or whether he was serious about using force.122 The conservative Abe government in Tokyo had advocated for Trump’s maximumpressure approach and therefore was not as fearful about war as the government in Seoul, but Japan too was largely out of the loop of U.S. decision-making.123 And to the same extent that South Korea felt acute fears of war entrapment by Trump in 2017, Japan feared abandonment in 2018 and 2019. Amid so much high-profile summit diplomacy—for which Trump bragged that he did not need preparation, despite knowing little about North Korea’s nuclear capabilities124—Japan worried aloud about Trump being duped into taking a deal from Kim Jong-un that would render Tokyo uniquely vulnerable to North Korean missiles by, for example, North Korea agreeing to curb its nuclear weapons or ICBM capability but being allowed to retain its medium-range missiles, which posed a unique threat to Japan.125 The question of competence also figured in the administration’s decision to develop ground-launched intermediate-range cruise missiles for the region. The United States was prohibited from fielding such missiles as part of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty signed between the United States and the Soviet Union in 1987. Russia had been in violation of the INF Treaty for years by the time Trump came to office, and withdrawing the

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United States from the treaty had been a pet issue of neoconservatives. The China threat presented an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: finally end the INF Treaty and fill a perceived “missile gap” in Asia.126 As the United States tied its decision to withdraw from the INF Treaty to catching up with China’s larger intermediate-range missile inventory, it did so without first consulting Australia, Japan, and South Korea—the primary candidates to host INF-range missiles. Allies were skittish at best. All three, in their own diplomatic ways, preemptively closed the door on hosting new U.S. INF-range missiles for three reasons.127 One was the “not in my backyard” problem in domestic politics, which were especially fraught in Japan and South Korea.128 The second reason was the immediate ire of China; all three allies maintained a semblance of positive relations with (and economic dependence on) China and did not wish to be subjected to economic coercion.129 The third reason allies were reluctant to even have the conversation about hosting INF-range missiles was the dubious risk–reward ratio. The United States did not yet have a defense strategy that required these missiles, and as such the decision to build and field them to counter China seemed to precede the actual weighing of risk. Was covering the region in missiles necessary to deter Chinese aggression, or merely beneficial but unnecessary? Would doing so inadvertently make the region more dangerous by engendering crisis instability? One of the risk factors U.S. officials never addressed was the discrimination problem that INF-range missiles posed: they were supposed to carry nonnuclear payloads, but China and North Korea had no way of knowing whether U.S. missiles had nuclear or conventional warheads, making the worst assumption the most prudent in a crisis. And even though these missiles were supposed to be aimed at China, they created huge nuclear first-use pressures in North Korea.130 Whether these risks made sense for the region as a whole depended on what the purported benefit would be, which seemed to be limited to worst-case warfighting preparations. Yet for allies, hosting INF-range missiles all but guaranteed their territories would be targeted by China as part of any fight between it and the United States—a substantial burden that required a substantially serious debate, which was simply not occurring.

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America’s alliances survived the onslaught of radical uncertainty, risk-taking, and rent seeking weathered but intact. They benefited not only from Trump’s tenure being limited to only four years, but also from the fact that, as security institutions, alliances are “sticky.”131 A tremendous amount of bureaucratic inertia— event schedules, budgetary line items, personnel assignments, and the like—collects around alliances over time. But America’s allies also understood that the United States had become the region’s most volatile actor. With the exception of the Philippines—itself highly volatile under Duterte—allies took pains to encourage America’s normalcy. More than any other factor, ally forbearance during a trying time for the United States was key to continuity.

Great-Power Regionalism? The Trump administration frequently came under withering criticism for its neglect of Asian regionalism.132 “Not showing up,” or failing to represent the United States at a level commensurate with other nations, has always been one of the cardinal sins in the “Asian way” of diplomacy. Yet America’s occasional absence and underrepresentation at multilateral meetings, while an indicator of Trump’s disposition toward them, was hardly unprecedented.133 The more significant challenge to regional order was not Trump blowing off meetings but rather U.S. officials—Trump first among them— showing up at multilateral engagements with an agenda of nationalism, mercantilism, and great-power rivalry draped in occasional liberal internationalist rhetoric. Reagan engaged with regionalism warily, armed with an agenda of making sure new institutions lacked rule-enforcement capacity, and ensuring regionalism was led by and for American corporate interests.134 George W. Bush engaged with regionalism assertively, imposing above all his counterterrorism agenda. The Trump administration’s priorities were an exaggerated hybrid of these two, seeking deferential terms of trade and economic access from Asia while actively securitizing the region’s multilateralism in opposition to China. Although Trump failed to appear at multiple APEC, EAS, and ASEAN summits, the one APEC meeting at which he did make a physical appearance illustrated the problem with separating

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regionalism as process (for example, attendance) from regionalism as multilateral cooperation. During an extended trip through Asia in November 2017, Trump joined the APEC summit in Vietnam, giving a speech in which he repeatedly emphasized the virtues of nationalism, sovereignty, and independence—themes at crosspurposes with the spirit of APEC and regionalism generally. He also upbraided the other nations in attendance for a history of “violations, cheating, [and] economic aggression” against the United States.135 Nodding toward China, he declared an end to the days of “audacious theft of intellectual property” and accused the World Trade Organization of failing. Trump claimed that Asia had taken advantage of a United States that for too long had opened its markets without reciprocity from the governments present—a claim that ignored America’s history of subsidizing special interests in agriculture, one-way demands for currency revaluations, and the refusal to acknowledge any economic obligation to the global South for a history of colonialism. He said he would be pursuing bilateral trade agreements, not multilateral ones. And he asserted that anyone who did not support America’s “Indo-Pacific dream” of greater market access for U.S. corporations would pay a price.136 Neither was the event an isolated one. Trump gave thematically similar speeches before and after the APEC summit highlighting sovereignty and bilateralism, presenting multilateralism as a kind of trap and America as its victim. As Pompeo remarked in the final Quad meeting of the Trump presidency, the administration valued the Quad contra other regional institutions precisely because it “isn’t multilateralism for the sake of it.”137 Addressing the Indo-Pacific Business Forum in conjunction with ASEAN meetings in July 2018, Pompeo pointed to Trump’s APEC speech as the touchstone for its Asia policy before relaying that “free and open” meant national sovereignty free from coercion and “fair and reciprocal trade.”138 “Reciprocity” became administration code language referring to its inverse; Trump used the term to mean one-way obligations of others to the United States for Asia’s history of supposed economic unfairness toward it.139 Even the bureaucracy—which otherwise sustained both liberal internationalist rhetoric and regular support for regional institutions—felt comfortable trafficking in occasional doublespeak. The 2017 National

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Security Strategy, for instance, invoked a demand for “reciprocity” fifteen times. Yet multilateral initiatives that never made it onto Trump’s radar, such as the Lower Mekong Initiative, continued unimpeded. At lower levels too, the United States missed no regional multilateral meetings.140 And Congress helped offset some of Trump’s agenda through legislation like the Asia Reassurance Initiative Act of 2018 and 2019, which among other things directed the administration to foreground APEC, EAS, and ASEAN in its “Indo-Pacific strategy” and created requirements for the administration to report regularly on its multilateral engagements in Asia.141 The regional economic order thus came out of the Trump era largely unscathed, but with America marginalized from its uncertain future. Monetary and fiscal regionalism—embedded in ASEAN but also the now enhanced Chiang Mai Initiative and Northeast Asia’s Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat—operated without fanfare even throughout the Sino-U.S. trade war and the 2020 pandemic. At the same time, Sinocentric regional institutions— principally BRI and AIIB—enjoyed 138 and 97 member states as stakeholders respectively and became channels for tens of billions of dollars of lending and investment in projects across Asia.142 Yet faced with a series of Chinese experiments in economic coercion over the previous decade, Asian governments also started seeking ways to make themselves resilient to Chinese exploitation of its economic heft. Japan and South Korea, Asia’s premier economies other than China, adopted “southern strategies” aimed at diversifying economic links away from China and toward Southeast Asia.143 ASEAN pressed forward with RCEP, which it advanced through ASEAN summits during Trump’s absence in 2018 and 2019 before concluding in November 2020.144 The nations belonging to the Compact of Free Association in the Pacific relied disproportionately on trade with Taiwan. Japan and Australia meanwhile helped conclude TPP negotiations with all the original member states except the United States. By the end of the decade, even New Zealand, the first advanced industrialized economy to conclude a free trade agreement with China (in 2008), started looking for ways to reduce its exposure to economic dependence on China.145

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The regional political order survived too, though by the time the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March 2020, Sino-U.S. rivalry itself had become one of the chief risks of war, and regional institutions were being co-opted by it more than attenuating it. Much of Asia sought to avoid being too involved in this game lest they become pawns in it, but multilateral institutions could not escape serving as venues for competition. At APEC, EAS, ARF, ADMM-Plus, and the Shangri-La Dialogue, the Trump administration spotlighted Chinese militarization of the South China Sea, stressed the “rulesbased” order that needed defending against Chinese encroachment, lobbied governments to sever ties with Huawei, and discouraged participation in the BRI (but without offering a compensating alternative).146 In 2018 the insistence on pressing the case against China led to the failure of the APEC summit to produce a joint communiqué for the first time in its history.147 And as the United States pressed an anti-China security agenda at the various forums in which it participated, it did so while casting a shadow of economic punishment that Southeast Asia in particular worried about—and for good reason, given that Trump had signed an executive order in 2017 investigating “unfair trade practices” and currency manipulation by the majority of ASEAN’s members.148 ASEAN dealt with Sino-U.S. rivalry by changing very little in practice while expressing tremendous angst about being forced to make “invidious choices,” as Singapore’s prime minister Lee Hsien Loong put it.149 It eventually gave tepid rhetorical support to the Trump administration’s preferred “Indo-Pacific” nomenclature and in 2019 arranged an ASEAN-wide maritime military exercise with the United States—modest gestures, but in keeping with the view that U.S. presence played a needed role stabilizing regional security.150 With China, ASEAN proceeded to actively participate in the BRI and conclude RCEP—gestures reinforcing the continued centrality of China in the region’s economic calculus. And with the United States and China separately, ASEAN held “ASEAN Plus One” engagement processes even as both great powers pursued their political agendas on a bilateral basis with individual members. The shared project of upholding an architecture to indefinitely keep war at bay—even rendering it unthinkable—was fraying. To the extent that regionalism focused on political economy and “low

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politics,” it remained functional and increasingly skewed in favor of China. But Asia’s multilateral institutions and consensus-based norms had no role in buffering the gravest threats to peace. The generations-long border dispute in the Himalayas between China and India heated up in 2018 before bursting into violence in June 2020.151 The North Korean nuclear crisis was the closest the United States had come to nuclear conflict since the Cold War. The genocide in Myanmar displaced more than 750,000 Rohingya over several years. China’s military occupation and artificial islandbuilding campaign in the South China Sea persisted without meaningful challenge. And China’s suppression of democratic protests in Hong Kong in 2017 and 2018 turned into a hostile takeover of the financial hub by 2020.152 Each of these problems represented threats to peace in their own way, and yet to the extent they were managed at all, it was by individual nations. Only the South China Sea was addressed in regionalist terms, as ASEAN claimants publicly pressed to conclude negotiations over a South China Sea Code of Conduct (CoC) with China. Even these talks ultimately stalled as China increased pressure on Indonesia, Vietnam, and Malaysia in 2019 and 2020 through maritime pressure tactics, including quasimilitarized standoffs and boat ramming.153 Faced with an intransigent and more assertive China, individual ASEAN nations opted to make their own appeals to international law and the UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf.154

Weaponized Democracy America’s disposition toward democracy in Asia was predictably erratic; while Trump showed little interest in democratic traditions or processes and fawned over Asia’s autocratic leaders, the U.S. bureaucracy and Congress were deeply invested in promoting democracy via a combination of diplomacy, aid, sanctions, and naming and shaming human rights violations. These competing impulses yielded tremendous inconsistency. During the nuclear crisis in 2017, for instance, North Korea’s human rights abuses were a source of its frequent ridicule and the “othering” of P’yo˘ngyang. Trump’s insults often blurred the distinction between governance critiques and the nuclear threat,

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boasting, for instance, “Will someone from [Kim’s] depleted and food starved regime please inform him that I too have a Nuclear Button, but it is a much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Button works!”155 North Korea’s tyrannical politics were also why the administration argued in 2017 that its nuclear weapons must be eliminated at any cost. H. R. McMaster explained that “classical deterrence theory” did not apply to Kim Jong-un because his was “a regime that engages in unspeakable brutality against his own people.”156 Making such a linkage—equating liberal governance with rationality—was actually making war more likely in the sense that it justified the maximum-pressure policy that brought on the crisis. Yet only a few months after McMaster made the case for a by-any-means-necessary approach to denuclearization, Trump claimed that he “fell in love” with Kim, exchanging affectionate letters and meeting him three times.157 From 2018 onward, the human rights conditions in North Korea dropped out of the public talking points by senior officials and Trump himself. No more insults about deprived living conditions. No more arguments that inferred a national security threat from the fact of widespread human suffering in North Korea. Sultanism at work. The hypocrisy regarding China was even more extreme. After the first Xi-Trump summit at Mar-a-Lago in April 2017, the press asked Rex Tillerson why human rights did not feature in the conversation with China, which he dismissed by claiming that democratic values are “embedded” in U.S. views and therefore not needed on the agenda.158 Silence about human rights, it turned out, would be a short-lived sign that some in the administration still wanted to quarantine parts of the Sino-U.S. relationship from rivalry. Trump was one of them. As part of his attempt at relationship building, in June 2019, Trump told Xi that the United States would avoid making noise about the suppression of democratic protests in Hong Kong as long as trade negotiations progressed, which Trump followed by commenting publicly that China was acting “very responsibly” in crushing dissent there.159 John Bolton, Trump’s third national security adviser, also claimed that Trump told Xi that he “should go ahead with building” internment camps for more than a million Uighurs in Xinjiang, and that it was “exactly the right thing to do.”160

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Once appointees in the Trump administration had space to pursue their own approach to China, though, starting at the end of 2017, America’s democracy and human rights agenda got subordinated to that totalizing struggle. During Pompeo’s speech at the Nixon Library in July 2020, he brought Chinese dissidents to stand alongside him while he repudiated Nixon’s détente gambit, bemoaned Western companies forced into “silence over [the CCP’s] human rights abuses” for market entry into China, and told tales of how he personally had met with so many of what he called Chinese “freedom fighters.”161 The NSC’s Indo-Pacific framework document also instrumentalized promoting free markets and liberal individualism, explicitly using it as a way to “maintain influence and counterbalance Chinese models of government”—echoing Paul Wolfowitz’s view of human rights as a tool to fight the Soviets.162 Vice President Mike Pence, an evangelical conservative, gave the first blistering anti-China speech of the Trump presidency in October 2018, naming religious persecution among the six major grievances that collectively made China a threat, and religious freedom as one of the dashed expectations America had harbored as part of its decades of engagement with China.163 Pompeo too emphasized in numerous speeches thereafter that China’s violations of religious freedom stand out as the primary way that the CCP abuses human rights. In a trip to Indonesia in October 2020, Pompeo called the CCP “the gravest threat to the future of religious freedom.”164 And on his final day in office, Pompeo designated Chinese oppression of the Muslim Uighurs in Xinjiang a genocide (without similarly designating, or even mentioning, the genocide of Rohingya in Myanmar), remarking how “the CCP has always exhibited a profound hostility to all people of faith.”165 Trump’s lieutenants also enlisted the bureaucracy in reprising the Reagan-era theory of democracy as a weapon against what U.S. foreign policy now cast as a communist “totalitarian surveillance state.”166 The State Department used its annual human rights reports to lambaste China for extreme violations of basic human dignity, foremost against the Muslim Uighurs in Xinjiang. With the report released in 2019, Assistant Secretary of State Michael Kozak compared China to Nazi Germany, saying, “You haven’t seen things like this since the 1930s . . . putting them into camps,

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and torturing them, abusing them, and trying to basically erase their culture and their religion.”167 The Office of Policy Planning’s The Elements of the China Challenge paper—the project that once belonged to Kiron Skinner—characterized China’s Leninist, antiliberal approach to politics at home as the source of its aggressive foreign policy. Making the case for a Cold War–like Manichaean struggle for freedom, the paper argued that China shared in common with the Soviet Union a belief system that combined communism and “hyper-nationalism.”168 None of this did much to actually promote democracy, whether understood as good governance (anticorruption, employment, inequality reduction, and the like) or political and economic liberalism. It is impossible to say whether U.S. policy even helped prevent human rights abuses; politicized efforts to hold China accountable for oppression have to be weighed against Trump’s flagrant indifference to, and encouragement of, oppression in the cases of Hong Kong and Xinjiang. Neither did electoral democracy itself seem to matter much for the Asian peace. By the time Trump came to office, the democratization trend in Asia was well past its peak, and not favorably connected to peaceable outcomes at any rate.169

Trump’s Risk-Wager Imbalance The Trump administration was the most imperious of any since the onset of the Asian peace, but in ways that were entirely traceable to the actions and thinking of prior presidencies. It was not preoccupied with peace or regional stability so much as winning a struggle for already-lost hegemony inflected with ideas about liberalism being under threat, primarily from Chinese communism. The theory of security it brought to this perceived problem set— though pregnant with inconsistencies—was almost entirely askew of the sources of the Asian peace: building military strength without regard for rival perceptions, containing Chinese influence, reconciling mercantilism with liberal internationalist rhetoric, and above all centering policy on an individual leader. Any number of national security analysts in Canberra, Taipei, and Tokyo found relief in the surety of America’s gargantuan defense

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budget and corresponding military footprint in Asia. For them, but few others, the United States remained a vital bulwark. But the emphatic and offensively oriented way that the United States wagered on its own military power and force posture helped make it—not China or even North Korea—Asia’s most volatile actor, ultimately encouraging arms racing and heightening the prospect of crisis instability with little to show for it. With North Korea, this brought about the real possibility of nuclear war on numerous occasions in 2017, saved only by Kim Jong-un’s success in securing a goodenough nuclear deterrent before the situation escalated further. Although fighting between China and India broke out in the Himalayas in 2020, it was contained and ultimately stabilized because of earlier farsighted Sino-Indian agreements to keep an area within approximately one mile of the contested Line of Actual Control demilitarized, and because both sides—not the United States—were ultimately willing to create a buffer zone and compromise their conditions for de-escalation to reduce the immediate risk of war.170 In this respect, the United States could do little more than maintain an aloof—but no longer hegemonic—pose toward the potential for a great-power nuclear war in which it had no say and little play. The most dramatic departure of the Trump administration from prior presidencies was its transgressive rejection of any semblance of détente with China in favor of unabashed rivalry. Some of this was motivated by a shifting balance of military power that the United States wanted to keep tilted in its favor. Some of it was a belief that China was the new Soviet Union—an ideological threat to highly abstracted American values. And some of it was inescapably racial. The idea that the United States and China represented clashing civilizations was thematically present and explicitly acknowledged by several key officials in the administration. What is more, the net effect of U.S. divestment from regional political economy—and partial decoupling from China in particular—was not to break economic interdependence but merely to further alienate the United States from it, to China’s benefit. By 2019, Asia was less reliant on U.S.—and even Western—capital than at any point since World War II.171 As Joe Biden entered the presidency in January 2021, he was beset on all sides. His domestic challenge was immense, needing to

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cope with right-wing extremism, a pandemic casualty count that had reached more than 400,000, an inflamed racial divide, and a Great Depression–level economic decline. On top of this, the Asian security environment had massively deteriorated from only four years earlier. In the intervening period, the United States had abandoned the great-power collaboration that kept war at bay for a generation without anything to offset its loss. It faced a nuclear North Korea that felt betrayed by what it saw as the false promises and hollow flattery of the Trump era. And Chinese intellectuals increasingly saw the United States as being not just in decline but in freefall,172 acting more rhetorically aggressive than ever in the post–Deng Xiaoping era while continuing with an uncompromising stance in highly combustible disputes with Taiwan, in the East China Sea, and in the South China Sea. The absence of war had become far more tenuous than many realized.

chapter eight

Searching for an Indo-Pacific Peace

The most likely future isn’t. — HERMAN KAHN, The Coming Boom (1982)

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us to consider the complex ways in which, paradoxically, America as a Pacific power vacillated between being aloof from, the guarantor of, and sometimes even a menace to the Asian peace. These seeming contradictions are an important part of why the Asian peace has become so fragile, which is something we need to understand if we hope to realistically improve on Asia’s current precarity. Washington likes to think of itself as the vital bulwark of regional stability. As Joseph Nye analogized, “Security is like oxygen: You do not tend to notice it until you begin to lose it.”1 His view that America has historically been Asia’s oxygen is not groundless. In the immediate post–Cold War era, Asia was swimming in deep uncertainty, and governments from Singapore to South Korea desperately sought some measure of continuity. The United States provided that by doubling down on its alliance commitments and forward military presence. Those core decisions also underwrote HE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS FORCED

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the dual-hierarchical order that emerged in the 1990s, creating an environment in which Asian states could pursue tailored hedging strategies and focus on economic development rather than interstate conflict. And not only did American military presence in the region sustain a negative peace through general deterrence; it led the way in signaling to others that economic engagement with China was desirable. Asia’s economic peace was heavily shaped by U.S. hegemony providing incentives for states to make choices that reinforced the stability of the system and the restrained (if not entirely peaceful) rise of China, for a while. In crucial moments too, the United States kept Asia from peril. In 1996 the United States buffered Chinese military intimidation while Taiwan held its first democratic presidential election. In 2007, Taiwanese president Chen Shui-bian was threatening to hold a referendum on his country’s independence, which at the time was a possible casus belli, given China’s antisecession law passed only two years earlier. The United States maintained close ties to China while leveraging its influence with Taiwan to convince Chen to curb his referendum idea. In 2010 the United States prevented South Korea from retaliating against North Korea for attacks that would almost certainly have escalated into a larger war, and worked in subsequent years to coordinate with Seoul on deterrence policies that kept the Korean Peninsula stable in spite of a growing nuclear asymmetry. And in 2012 the United States brokered a de-escalation of military confrontation between China and the Philippines over the disputed Scarborough Shoal in the South China Sea. We can even imagine a counterfactual Northeast Asia that would long ago have been awash with nuclear weapons—in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan—if not for U.S. opposition to nuclear proliferation and the various security commitments it used to buy others out of such a future. And yet, contra popular conceptions in Washington, the United States has often been the imperious superpower whose actions made war more likely rather than less. The way the United States normalized relations with China in 1979 may have indirectly incentivized China’s invasion of Vietnam—the last new conflict before the onset of the Asian peace, and one that the United States might have prevented had it done diplomacy differently.2 In the 1980s, Reagan’s large military buildup and deliberately provocative

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maneuvers in the Pacific instigated a war paranoia in the Soviet Union and in Asia, which became the hair-trigger context shaping the Able Archer military exercise in 1983 that risked an inadvertent nuclear war because of misperceptions. In 1994, America’s heavily militarized response to North Korea’s breakout quest for nuclear weapons locked in an escalating confrontation that only ended because of the surprise interjection of former president Jimmy Carter flying to P’yo˘ngyang for impromptu and informal negotiations with Kim Il Sung. And in 2017 the United States brought Asia to the brink of nuclear war for an unrealistic goal: North Korean nuclear disarmament. In all these cases, moreover, war was avoided not by American deftness but by the good fortune of actors other than the U.S. government taking initiative to prevent it. Some U.S. decisions have also had negative implications for the Asian peace indirectly over time, and we lose sight of detrimental feedback processes when we focus only on sporadic moments of interest. From the earliest days of the 1980s, the United States wanted regionalism weak and worked to sabotage attempts to create East Asia–centric institutions. Washington officials worried that the United States would be excluded from regional trade, but the underlying issue was power. Coordinated policies in East Asia could have empowered smaller nations to spurn U.S. efforts to pry open their markets and lift capital controls, leaving the United States to do business on Asia’s terms or not at all. Moreover, by channeling regional diplomacy toward U.S.-centric economic liberalization, U.S. officials went out of their way to create the conditions that made Asia’s “miracle” economies vulnerable to speculative capital flows, which brought on the strategically traumatizing Asian financial crisis in 1997. The United States repeatedly pressed Asian governments over the decades to appreciate their currencies so as to secure a more favorable balance of trade for the United States at the Asian nations’ expense. Although most states resisted this pressure most of the time, it nevertheless worked at cross-purposes with efforts to increase regional economic interdependence because it sought to lower the trade surplus on which Asian export-based growth strategies relied, which in turn undermined the core wager of the “miracle” economies: political legitimacy through development rather than revanchism.

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America’s disposition toward Asia’s economic order gradually, and almost entirely unwittingly, alienated itself from it. Armed with a “never again” attitude toward the Asian financial crisis, East Asian governments rallied in the form of economic regionalism that increasingly marginalized the United States from the architecture they were constructing. It might be argued that this was bad only for the United States but fine for Asia. Perhaps. But the unique way in which economic cooperation took shape has created deep strategic dependencies on China, endowing it with advantages in Asia relative to the United States, with which China now competes for influence. At the same time, it has given China the ability— which it has used against four of America’s five regional allies—to manipulate its economic heft for the purposes of coercion. In this way, one consequence of U.S. statecraft has been to unwittingly give China positional power it might not have otherwise had. Even more frequently than the United States acted as a bulwark of stability or an imperious actor, however, it played the role of aloof hegemon, sometimes in ways that incidentally benefited regional stability. During the George W. Bush presidency, for example, Asia was spared from reckless U.S. policies toward either China or North Korea partly because the Bush administration was preoccupied with the war in Afghanistan, the Iraq War, and the global war on terror. While U.S. foreign policy in the Bush era exhibited a unilateralist impulse generally, its conduct in Asia was more muted and multilateral—an outcome that owed as much to the United States needing to partner with Asian governments in its fight against nonstate actors as it did to its limited ability to pursue risky coercive policies while bogged down in the Middle East and Afghanistan. Moreover, even as the neoconservative belief in military power as the foremost arbiter of world politics had disastrous results in places like Iraq, it helped ensure that the United States maintained its military footprint in Asia despite growing operational demands for it elsewhere; the Asian peace was a near-term beneficiary of America’s expanding military. For Asian states, U.S. military continuity in the region took much of the downside risk—or so it seemed at the time—out of investing strategically and economically in China. But beneficent aloofness was more exception than norm. Frequently, the United States was simply far less important to Asian

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affairs than commonly supposed. It had little to do with Vietnam’s withdrawal from military occupation of Cambodia, which had lasted from 1978 through the end of the Cold War. The United States wielded a veto power over peace in Cambodia, but it was ASEAN and the United Nations that did the most to bring the conflict to an end.3 The birth of East Timor as an independent state, meanwhile, which came on the heels of President Suharto’s ouster in Indonesia in 1998, was far more the culmination of transnational activism over the decades than it was a decision by the U.S. government.4 Since 1975, the United States had been more deeply implicated in Indonesian violence against East Timor than in the latter’s ultimate independence in 1999.5 In addition, the Sino-Indian border dispute in the Himalayas proved tangential to the United States, and Washington played no role in China and India managing the conflict carefully in the 1990s, or when it became a militarized dispute in the Trump years. The conflict’s escalation and de-escalation depended on local factors, not America. Similarly, when Thailand and Cambodia ended up in conflict from roughly 2008 to 2012, the United States was absent from the conflict’s incitement and its management. In what could be considered either a moral failing or a realpolitik blindness, the United States stood aloof from a genocide in Myanmar that grew to displace more than 750,000 Rohingya starting in 2016. The United States did not intervene and did not alter its basic approach of engagement with Myanmar until 2021, when the Burmese military took over the government and ended its experiment with democracy. Asia had also saved itself from the 2008 financial crisis. To guard against reliving the 1997 Asian financial crisis, Asian governments established monetary and fiscal mechanisms that worked around the United States. Regional cooperation, combined with massive Chinese lending and stimulus spending by national governments, meant that the 2008 crisis did not rupture Asia anywhere near to the extent it did Europe and the United States. And as U.S. allies— first Japan and the Philippines, then South Korea—came under coercive economic pressure from China in the Obama era, the United States did nothing to prevent or ameliorate it. Only when China began squeezing Australia in late 2020 and early 2021—after the onset of Sino-U.S. rivalry and after China had established a

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track record of coercion—did the United States even begin to broach the issue with China.6

Reassessing the Past Looking back over the past generation, we can see more than just the three faces of the Pacific power paradox. Interpreting history with reference to the Asian peace—and paying attention to the risks and wagers implied in U.S. thinking and statecraft toward it— gives us several other observations relevant both to policy practice and to historiography about the United States in Asia. First, prevailing beliefs in Washington about what the United States needed to do in Asia to preserve stability have often been incidental to—and consequently only partially overlapping with—what scholars of the Asian peace recognize as its multiple causes. And when the United States either implicitly bet against the Asian peace or made choices that directly put Asia at greater risk of conflict, it was almost always because Washington was making decisions with reference to some goal or idea other than preventing war in Asia: defeating the Soviets, fighting a global war on terrorism, ameliorating economic recession, preventing nuclear proliferation, trying to prevail in a civilizational rivalry, or waging a war against “globalist” foreign policy. Regardless of how warranted or necessary—or even well-intentioned—these goals were, the fact that they were orthogonal to what created and sustained the Asian peace put Washington in a position to sometimes gamble with the region’s fate. Second, U.S. détente with China—the flawed but long-lasting cooperative relationship between Asia’s two largest powers—has been a vastly underappreciated source of regional stability since the 1970s. In Washington and in Beijing, the motivations for Sino-U.S. cooperation have shifted over time, but their shared investment in stability and a baseline of mutual understanding had big payoffs: it checked Chinese military adventurism, reduced misunderstandings with the potential to spiral into war, and facilitated the breakneck Chinese economic growth to which Asian states yoked their relatively peaceful political strategies over time. Washington has embraced a paradigm of rivalry with China without recognizing the tremendous work that Sino-U.S. détente had been doing to keep

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Asia stable. In essence, a major source of the Asian peace started fading away during the Obama years and then disappeared entirely during Trump’s presidency. The problem for U.S. presidents, and Asia more generally, is that conflicts of interest with China are not entirely the onus of the United States. Washington has its own pathologies, to be sure, but it faces a great power of growing belligerence and hubris with a system of governance antithetical to America’s self-image. But rivalry has its own price, and the loss of such a foundational source of the Asian peace requires compensation if stability is to persist. The region needs some kind of wager to offset the absence of great-power détente. In the context of Sino-U.S. rivalry, Asia could quickly end up in war in connection with either another global crisis or the emergence of revanchist politicians in countries with whom China has territorial disputes. Finally, Obama was by far the most cautious president since the Cold War, while Trump was the most risk-acceptant president in a generation. To keep the Asian peace alive under less favorable conditions than his predecessors, Obama’s high sensitivity to risk happened to serve regional stability well—at the time. His statecraft was strikingly conservative in the sense that it moved slowly, where it moved at all, to adapt to trends from above (at a regional level) and below (from within U.S. politics) that were transforming the larger context. Trump, by contrast, exhibited the riskiest tendencies of President Reagan’s approach to Asia a generation earlier, only more so, and under far less amiable conditions.

Principles for an Indo-Pacific Peace Can anything be done to help preserve the Asian peace, or perhaps even expand it to the much larger Indo-Pacific? Possibly. While many Asian futures are still plausible, we can define a few principles of action that fit virtually all of them.

Questioning (and Attacking) Underlying Causes of Insecurity Coercion and the use of force are sometimes necessary but also a trap. Excessive reliance on them has reinforced an overmilitarized policy imagination. This has embrittled the Asian peace so much

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that, contra much of the past forty years, no policy maker can any longer afford to exercise horrendous judgment or live with risk blindness. One of the constraints America must face in its transition out of a position of hegemony is that it has little margin for the strategic blunders that pockmarked the unipolar moment. Good statecraft puts your successor in a better position than the one you inherited. American statecraft during the Asian peace has done the opposite, making policy choices over and again that reproduce and deepen insecurity. Every president since Reagan left his successor with a worse situation than he inherited.7 No longterm stability can come from a policy tool kit limited to economic sanctions and the threat of war. These are tools of crisis management, dealing only with the surface level of geopolitics. A more durable kind of stability will come not from the dark arts of traditional national security strategy but from elevating statecraft to investigate and take on the underlying causes of insecurity. China’s outwardly aggressive behavior has much to do with the society-cleaving inequalities necessary for its oligarchic class to stay in power at the expense of its workers; ethnonationalism is the CCP’s basis for legitimacy in the absence of a decent life for Chinese people. Yet what aspect of U.S. policy toward China or Asia acknowledges, let alone attempts to address, the oligarchy– labor rights–ethnonationalism challenge? Similarly, the North Korea problem will never be resolved through pressure attached to demands for unilateral disarmament; the only solution lies in living with the Kim regime’s need to gird itself against ingrained perceptions of external threat while making a serious bid to change the relationship of rivalry that fuels that perception. And in both Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands, what concerns political elites most in the 2020s is not military flash points or Chinese expansionism but rather post-COVID economic recovery, inequality reduction, and mitigation measures against the effects of climate change.8 Among these nations’ greatest fears, in fact, is becoming pawns in great-power competition. The government or institution that calibrates its priorities to meet these concerns will contribute to making coercion less necessary over time while winning itself the kind of influence that no number of boots on the ground can buy.

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Choosing Strategy over Rivalry China and the United States are unlikely to relive the cooperative days of the unipolar moment anytime soon, but Washington may have endorsed great-power rivalry too quickly after a prolonged period of reacting to changes in China too slowly. It is one thing to make zero-sum choices in foreign policy, and quite another to limit yourself to them. Rivalries have a way of distorting your sense of interest and threat, forcing you to allocate resources and take risks that may not be sensible. You get mobilization and focus. You give up certain options for managing your relationship and stability itself. And you risk not only arms races, proxy conflicts, and real wars, but also negative externalities like hate crimes, McCarthyism, circumscribed civil liberties, and militarism generally. Already the rivalry narrative—albeit heavily conditioned by the Trump era— has spiked anti-Asian hate crimes in the United States and birthed an analytical commentariat in which it has become normal to expect ad hominem attacks and accusations of working on behalf of the CCP if you criticize U.S. China policy.9 In one emblematic exchange with former secretary of state Mike Pompeo after Trump had already left office, the BBC asked how Pompeo thought America’s global image had been affected by the January 6, 2021, Capitol insurrection, to which he responded, “I actually think that question is basically Chinese propaganda.”10 Rivalry risks a dark path for American democracy and the Asian peace. If that becomes necessary, the decision needs to be made consciously and transparently, only after first pricing in the potential downsides and gaining the buy-in of the American public. Rather than explicitly weighing the hypothesized benefits of treating China as an enemy against the potential risks of doing so, policy makers in Washington succumbed to the villainizing impulse without a discernible theory of success. As I write this, the Biden administration has not repudiated the rivalry presumption of its predecessor; given the bipartisan appeal of yoking all pet political projects to Sino-U.S. competition, it is unlikely to ever do so. Whoever governs needs to think through how to dilute China’s illiberal influences, manage our differences, and even deter and defend our allies without the aid of a galvanizing Schmittian narrative.

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Balancing for Antihegemonism, Not Advantage Washington loves to talk about the balance of power but hates to abide by it. Every president since Reagan has sought military superiority, sometimes expressed as “military preeminence,” sometimes as a “favorable balance of power,” in the Bush era as the euphemistic “balance of power that favors freedom,” and under Trump as “military preeminence.” The Biden administration too announced it would seek a “favorable distribution of power,” and its reasoning was familiar if fatuous: “to deter and prevent adversaries from directly threatening the United States and our allies.”11 The United States has never been able to prevent another actor from threatening it or its allies, yet this kind of rhetoric has lingered in policy makers’ talking points for decades. To aspire to live free of external coercion is a dangerous kind of great-power utopianism. And even if the United States puts military superiority in service of more realistic aims than preventing enemies from making threats, it is not inherently beneficial; it depends on how others perceive and react to America’s accrual of military power, and we have no reason to expect that out-arming an opponent will be the end of the story. Neither is military superiority (or the strategy of “denial” that these days underpins it) indefinitely sustainable. There must be a price point at which either politics or prudence forces one to rethink the ends and means of preparing to prevail in hypothetical conflicts. Defense planning should supplement, not substitute for, statecraft. Even as parts of the region have undertaken building deeper forms of comity, the Asian peace has been an overwhelmingly negative one. U.S. forward military presence in Asia may therefore be a necessary evil for the foreseeable future. More concretely, today Washington takes as a given that the United States ought to balance a China whose military power and extraterritorial ambitions are growing. This might be a correct judgment, but military superiority is not balance; it is an imbalance. And the size, configuration, geographic distribution, and signaling uses of American force posture deserve both more critical scrutiny and creativity. If Washington seeks to counterbalance China for the sake of preventing its domination rather than recapturing America’s lost

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hegemony, then balancing can safely be the primary responsibility of frontline states—those nearest to, and most directly affected by, Chinese revisionism—with the United States postured to reliably support. All else being equal, it takes far less capability to prevent domination than it does to exercise it, and the model of Americadoes-the-balancing is a product of a unique historical moment of extremely concentrated military power in the hands of one state. Moreover, into the 2020s, America still retains military superiority against China everywhere except the Taiwan Strait—a cushion that buys the United States time to transition to a more sustainable, not more ambitious, defense strategy. Thinking in terms of antihegemonism and frontline states rather than military superiority and preeminence not only accords with common views about how balancing works in international relations but is also the only sustainable arrangement, given Washington’s changed politics and the onset of a post-unipolar world.12 Where once it was relatively easy for friends of the United States to presume it would ensure regional stability—though its track record, as I have stressed in these chapters, has been mixed—today it is a much riskier proposition. A world where American politics can yield far-right authoritarian demagogues is a world in which it makes no sense to simply count on America to keep things pacific, uphold pacifying international commitments indefinitely, or even remain pacific itself. While future presidencies would be well advised to help reduce uncertainty about America’s role in Asia, doing so by encouraging belief in the mirage of an omnipresent Pacific power, or by making commitments that American politics will find difficult to sustain, is setting up the region for tragedy.

Making the Asian Peace a Referent Narrative In decades past, U.S. policy makers sometimes made decisions with the explicit intent of keeping Asia stable, even though their underlying theories of action did not always track with what has actually sustained the absence of war. In the gap between the beliefs of policy makers and scholarly insights lay great risk. Often, moreover, and as the previous chapters showed, policy makers either took stability for granted or subordinated it to a grander objective.

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Preventing war was not always the priority. For more obvious reasons, there too resided substantial risks of war. To remedy this, policy makers must recover the Asian peace as a referent narrative in U.S. foreign policy. Whenever statecraft is conducted in the national interest, it is being done to further an underlying narrative: a diagnosis of a complex world that answers “what is going on here?” in a way that makes purposive action possible.13 Narratives do this by scoping what are sensible assumptions, diagnosing the nature of the problem, and implying the kinds of actions that might address it. A referent narrative, in other words, guides statecraft by giving choices meaning and thereby making sense of not only what choices are available but also which choices are more or less necessary than others. And a robust narrative must not only fit with facts but also be resilient to a range of alternative futures. The Asian peace (and its evolving sources) is the narrative most likely to serve the greatest good for the greatest number. Consciously foregrounding the Asian peace as a goal of U.S. statecraft, and embracing the layered understanding of it proposed here, does not guarantee that policy makers will avoid risks, accurately comprehend events as they happen, or even make good strategy. Neither is it an argument for peace above all else at all times. Peace should be a priority aspiration, but naked, unprovoked aggression would require a new narrative, one that may require the United States to intervene so that a just peace might be realized. Unless that day comes, however, what the narrative of Asian peace does in the meantime is offer a baseline against which to evaluate policy trade-offs and force policy makers to acknowledge when they are taking risks against known aspects of stability. No book or academic insight or history lesson can guarantee against bad judgment, but treating the Asian peace as a policy heuristic is a logical and evidence-based foundation for responsible decision-making.

Asia’s Past, Indo-Pacific’s Future? The use of the term “Indo-Pacific,” as opposed to “Asia” or “AsiaPacific,” has picked up momentum and frequency since 2018. I have touched on the reasons for this throughout the book, especially in

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chapters 6 and 7. For some time, defense strategists have been enamored with the possibilities of the Indian Ocean region—especially India per se—as a place to “expand the competitive space” against China, as Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis often said. That Australia, India, and Japan see potential in rallying behind the concept of a “free and open Indo-Pacific” has made this line of thinking even more attractive since the Trump era. And it is not just a rhetorical change but rather a reorientation of U.S. force posture and reallocation of diplomatic attention. As Admiral Phil Davidson, commander of the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, noted in 2021 during a speech that positioned India as a strategic center of gravity, “We are adapting from our historic Service-centric focus on Northeast Asia and Guam . . . revising our Indo-Pacific force laydown with our allies and partners to account for China’s rapid modernization.”14 During Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin’s first trip abroad, India was the only nontreaty ally on the visit, along with Japan and South Korea. And President Biden’s first multilateral summit engagement in Asia was with the Quad. The Indo-Pacific concept offers reasons for both hope and deep skepticism. It offers hope because South Asia and East Asia have exhibited distinct security dynamics and development patterns over time. By extending certain practices from East Asia to the Indian Ocean region, it might be possible to also extend the Asian peace westward to encompass South Asia. In a way, the informal multilateralism of the Quad might be seen as just that. The same might be said for shifting U.S. forward presence more into the Indian Ocean, as a way of balancing China. It is certainly true that the boundaries between East Asia and the Indian Ocean region are far more porous than they once were, and China does have a two-ocean naval strategy. One way of keeping the subregion stable might therefore be proactive balancing before China exhibits the expansionist ambitions it has already shown elsewhere.15 But we have ample cause for worry that the Indian Ocean region is a distracting intellectual fad for Washington officials, whereas it remains a deadly serious space of security for Australia and India in particular. East Asia and the Pacific are geographies of unique advantage for U.S. influence and power projection. The region contains the lion’s share of U.S. bases and access agreements,

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and it is the home of a number of countries that the United States has signed on to protect—not just treaty allies but also key Pacific Island nations, as well as its own territory in the Pacific (it is worth acknowledging that America’s commitments in the Pacific are steeped in historical injustice, but surfacing that is another project entirely). Not only does the United States lack such advantages in the Indian Ocean region, but any attempt to focus resources on it will at some point inevitably borrow from those in East Asia or the Pacific, and too much is at stake in Asia to permit that diversion. Nor is it obvious that militarization of the Indian Ocean will check the PLA’s ambitions in South Asia; it may antagonize them, thereby stimulating China’s greater militarization there. What is more, because the Asian peace has not been that peaceful, and because America’s role in it has been checkered, we should be wary not just about generating new commitments but also about entrapping ourselves in a security dilemma over an area of the world that Washington suddenly cares about mainly because of its rivalry with China. And yet neither does it make sense to be totally indifferent to a highly populated subregion with important maritime choke points for global shipping that not only abuts Asia but contains at least one conflict-prone dispute that spans both regions (China and India in the Himalayas). The question is simply how best to engage the Indian Ocean region. The most prudent approach would see the United States looking for ways to make contributions to Indian Ocean stability without incurring new commitments, sensitive to how not just inaction but positive action could plausibly influence events there. Any engagement grounded in the principles outlined here would also guard the United States against folly in the Indo-Pacific. If the U.S. government works in solidarity with frontline states seeking to avoid domination—as opposed to leading a military charge— then balancing, rather than clashing bids for hegemony, could prevail. If the United States explicitly embraces the Asian peace and its layered sources as a referent narrative in U.S. statecraft, then not only will it lower the risk of forsaking East Asia or the Pacific, but it will also inhibit America’s occasionally imperious, warthreatening conduct. And if the United States engages the Indian Ocean region in a manner that minimally inflames rivalry with

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China, then playing a role there could reduce rather than increase incentives for conflict. The Asian peace is a historically contingent story that has proved durable in the past precisely because its foundations have been broad and multifaceted. No single source—and, more importantly, no single nation—has been sufficient to sustain stability. Because it is generally more desirable to have several reinforcing pressures all favoring the preservation of peace through different rationales and mechanisms than having something so precious hinge on a single factor, any risks the United States takes in relation to the “causes” of the Asian peace need to be analytically justifiable—that is, they need to be taken because of changed circumstances or recent evidence to the contrary. And ideally each risk needs an offset, a positive wager of some kind on how U.S. actions might plausibly aid stability. But debates and analysis of this kind require a degree of critical self-awareness—a recognition by Washington policy makers that, as a Pacific power, America has been an aloof hegemon, a vital bulwark, and an imperious superpower. Appreciating that paradox gives America its best shot at becoming the wellspring of stability and justice it has always imagined itself to be.

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Notes

Introduction  1. “China Likely Lost at Least 40 Soldiers in Border Clash: Indian Minister,” Reuters, June 21, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-india-china/ china-likely-lost-at-least-40-soldiers-in-border-clash-indian-ministeridUSKBN23S079.  2. “Galwan Valley: Image Appears to Show Nail-Studded Rods Used in India-China Brawl,” BBC News, June 18, 2020, https://www.bbc.com/ news/amp/world-asia-india-53089037.  3. The fact of not using guns was the result of a 1996 agreement between China and India not to allow firearms within approximately one mile of the Line of Actual Control.  4. Stein Tonnesson, Explaining the East Asian Peace: A Research Story (Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies, 2017), xii.  5. Aaron Friedberg, “Ripe for Rivalry: Prospects for Peace in a Multipolar Asia,” International Security 18, no. 3 (1993–94): 5–33.  6. The Asian peace is sometimes alternatively described as the “East Asian peace.” I refer to it here as the “Asian peace” not only for brevity but because the phenomenon it describes includes the Pacific and excludes the Indian Ocean region. The Pacific Islands experienced no interstate wars during this period, whereas India and Pakistan did. While it may be most precise to refer to the phenomenon as an “Asia-Pacific peace,” it is common for scholars to truncate “Asia-Pacific” to simply “Asia.”  7. During the Asian peace, the region has also seen sharp declines in— though not the elimination of—genocide and mass atrocities. See Alex Bellamy, East Asia’s Other Miracle: Explaining the Decline of Mass Atrocities (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017).  8. Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, the Philippines, and Mongolia. Indonesia, Thailand, and Malaysia have also had flirtations with democracy.

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 9. Hugh Miall and Ria Shibata, “Open Hearts, Open Minds: Trust, Confidence and Security Building in Northeast Asia,” Journal for Peace and Nuclear Disarmament 3, no. 2 (2020): 370–72; Pew Research Global Attitudes Project, “How Asians View Each Other,” chap. 4 in Global Opposition to US Surveillance and Drones but Limited Harm to America’s Image (Washington, D.C.: Pew Research Center, 2014), 37–41. 10. Rory Medcalf, Contest for the Indo-Pacific: Why China Won’t Map the Future (Melbourne: La Trobe University Press, 2018). 11. Van Jackson, On the Brink: Trump, Kim, and the Threat of Nuclear War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). 12. Brendan Taylor, Dangerous Decade: Taiwan’s Security and Crisis Management, Adelphi series (Abingdon: Routledge, 2019). 13. “Taiwan Cuts Back on Scrambling Fighters, Tracking Intruding Chinese Aircraft with Missiles,” Japan Times, March 29, 2021, https://www. japantimes.co.jp/news/2021/03/29/asia-pacific/taiwan-china-scramblefighters-missiles/. 14. India claimed some twenty casualties as part of the skirmish that took place in June 2020. Jeffrey Gettleman, Hari Kumar, and Sameer Yasir, “20 Indian Soldiers Killed in Deadly Border Clash with China,” New York Times, June 16, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/16/world/asia/ indian-china-border-clash.html. 15. Adam Taylor, “A Border Clash between the World’s Biggest Nations. What Could Go Wrong?” Washington Post, May 28, 2020, https://www. washingtonpost.com/world/2020/05/28/china-india-border-standoff/. 16. Bill Hayton, The South China Sea: The Struggle for Power in Asia (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2014); Brendan Taylor, The Four Flashpoints: How Asia Goes to War (Melbourne: La Trobe University Press, 2018). 17. This is discussed in chapter 7, but see also remarks by Kiron Skinner at the New America Foundation Future Security Forum, Washington, D.C., April 29, 2019, https://www.newamerica.org/conference/futuresecurity-forum-2019/. 18. Jackie Calmes, “Obama and Asian Leaders Confront China’s Premier,” New York Times, November 19, 2011, https://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/20/ world/asia/wen-jiabao-chinese-leader-shows-flexibility-after-meetingobama.html. 19. Throughout the book, I use the term “détente” to refer to a framework of cooperative engagement in Sino-U.S. relations. I do this because “engagement” is too capacious a term, and because the premise of balancepositive relations with China is rooted in the initial détente between President Richard Nixon and Chairman Mao Tse-tung in 1972. 20. These collective explanations are described further in chapter 1 but are also summarized in Van Jackson, “A Region Primed for Peace or War? Historical Institutionalism and Debates in East Asian Security,” Journal of Global Security Studies 2, no. 3 (2017): 253–67.

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21. I discuss this topic in detail in chapter 1, but for a representative text, see Elin Bjarnegard and Joakim Kreutz, eds., Debating the East Asian Peace: What It Is, How It Came About, Will It Last? (Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies, 2017). 22. Hillary Clinton, “America’s Pacific Century,” Foreign Policy, October 11, 2011, https://foreignpolicy.com/2011/10/11/americas-pacific-century/.

Chapter One.  The Asian Peace as a Guide to Statecraft  1. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program uses twenty-five as the minimum measure, while the Correlates of War (COW) project uses a casualty threshold of one thousand. For UCDP’s definition, see https://www. pcr.uu.se/research/ucdp/definitions/. For COW’s definition, see https:// correlatesofwar.org/data-sets.  2. See, e.g., Manjeet Pardesi, “The Indo-Pacific: A ‘New’ Region or the Return of History,” Australian Journal of International Affairs 74, no. 2 (2020): 124–46; Medcalf, Contest for the Indo-Pacific.  3. Rajat Pandit, “India Suffered 1,874 Casualties without Fighting a War,” Times of India, April 19, 2013, https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/ India-suffered-1874-casualties-without-fighting-a-war/articleshow/ 45016284.cms.  4. Indeed, the Indian subcontinent has developed its own regional institution, the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC), apart from those that order East Asian politics.  5. One of the founding pieces of research along these lines is Timo Kivimaki, “East Asian Relative Peace—Does It Exist? What Is It?” Pacific Review 23, no. 4 (2010): 503–26.  6. Johan Galtung, “Violence, Peace, and Peace Research,” Journal of Peace Research 6, no. 3 (1969): 167–91.  7. Some scholars prefer “warm” versus “cool,” or “deep” versus “shallow,” descriptions of peace. See Bjarnegard and Kreutz, Debating the East Asian Peace, 6.  8. Alice Holmes Cooper, Paradoxes of Peace: German Peace Movements since 1945 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 144; Lukas Mengelkamp, “Deterrence as ‘Organized Peacelessness,’ ” Sources and Methods, May 14, 2020, https://www.wilsoncenter.org/blog-post/ deterrence-organized-peacelessness.  9. Alexander George and Richard Smoke, Deterrence and American Foreign Policy: Theory and Practice (New York: Columbia University Press, 1974), 5. 10. For this conception, see Charles Kupchan, How Enemies Become Friends: The Source of Stable Peace (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2010). 11. Diplomatic White Paper 2015 (Republic of Korea: Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2015), 101–4; Evan Feigenbaum and Robert Manning, “A Tale

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of Two Asias,” Foreign Policy, October 31, 2012, https://foreignpolicy.com/ 2012/10/31/a-tale-of-two-asias/. 12. Tonnesson, Explaining the East Asian Peace, 12. 13. For a critique of this approach, see Jackson, “A Region Primed for Peace or War?” 14. John Mearsheimer, “The Future of the American Pacifier,” Foreign Affairs 80, no. 5 (2001): 47. 15. See especially the discussion of “selective engagement” in Barry Posen and Andrew Ross, “Competing Visions for U.S. Grand Strategy,” International Security 21, no. 3 (1996–97): 5–53. For a critical view, see Chalmers Johnson and E. B. Keehn, “The Pentagon’s Ossified Strategy,” Foreign Affairs 74, no. 4 (1995): 103–14. 16. Van Jackson, “American Military Superiority and the Pacific Primacy Myth,” Survival 60, no. 2 (2018): 107–32; Hal Brands, “Choosing Primacy: U.S. Strategy and Global Order at the Dawn of the Post–Cold War Era,” Texas National Security Review 1, no. 2 (2018): 8–33. 17. See, e.g., William Wohlforth, “The Stability of a Unipolar World,” International Security 24, no. 1 (1999): 5–41; David Kang, “International Relations Theory and the Second Korean War,” International Studies Quarterly 47, no. 3 (2003): 301–24. On Southeast Asia’s view of American power as a source of stability, see Natasha Hamilton-Hart, Hard Interests, Soft Illusions: Southeast Asia and American Power (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2012). 18. Zhu Feng, “China’s Rise Will Be Peaceful: How Unipolarity Matters,” in China’s Ascent: Power, Security, and the Future of International Politics, ed. Robert Ross and Zhu Feng (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2008), 34–54; Yuan-kang Wang, “China’s Response to the Unipolar World: The Strategic Logic of Peaceful Development,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 45, no. 5 (2010): 554–67; Xiao, “Idea Change Matters: China’s Practices and the East Asian Peace.” 19. I have argued elsewhere that attributing the Asian peace to China is analytically problematic, in part because the Asian peace is a regional-level observation best explained by factors at the regional—not unit—level. See Van Jackson, “Chinese Foreign Policy Is Not Responsible for the ‘Asian Peace,’ ” War on the Rocks, May 10, 2019, https://warontherocks. com/2019/05/chinese-foreign-policy-is-not-responsible-for-the-asianpeace/. 20. Fareed Zakaria and Lee Kuan Yew, “Culture as Destiny: A Conversation with Lee Kuan Yew,” Foreign Affairs 73, no. 2 (1994): 122. 21. Robert Ross, “The U.S.-China Peace: Great Power Politics, Spheres of Influence, and the Peace of East Asia,” Journal of East Asian Studies 3, no. 3 (2003): 351–75. 22. The United States also has alliance ties to Thailand lingering from the Cold War, but they do not involve any mandate for mutual defense.

Notes to Pages 14–17

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23. Mira Rapp-Hooper, Shields of the Republic: The Triumph and Peril of America’s Alliances (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2019). 24. Rapp-Hooper, Shields of the Republic. 25. Alex Lanosczka, Atomic Assurance: The Alliance Politics of Nuclear Proliferation (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2018). 26. Victor Cha, Powerplay: The Origins of the American Alliance System in Asia (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2016), 20. 27. Kevin Morris, “Navigating the Compact of Free Association: Three Decades of Supervised Self-Governance,” University of Hawai’i Law Review 41, no. 2 (2019): 384–440. 28. Terence Roehrig, Japan, South Korea, and the United States Nuclear Umbrella: Deterrence after the Cold War (New York: Columbia University Press, 2017). 29. Jackson, “Buffers, Not Bridges.” 30. Zakaria and Lee, “Culture as Destiny,” 121. 31. Benjamin Goldsmith, “A Liberal Peace in Asia?” Journal of Peace Research 44, no. 1 (2007): 5–27. 32. Erik Gartzke, “The Capitalist Peace,” American Journal of Political Science 51, no. 1 (2007): 166–91; Benjamin Goldsmith, “The East Asian Peace as a Second-Order Diffusion Effect,” International Studies Review 16, no. 2 (2014): 257–89. See also Kenneth Schultz, “Domestic Opposition and Signaling in International Crises,” American Political Science Review 92, no. 4 (1998): 829–44. 33. In the East Asian context, see Jennifer Lind, “Democratization and Stability in East Asia,” International Studies Quarterly 55, no. 2 (2011): 409–36. 34. See, e.g., Bruce Gilley, The Nature of Asian Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 35. Hamilton-Hart, Hard Interests, Soft Illusions, 68. See also David Kang, Crony Capitalism: Corruption and Development in South Korea and the Philippines (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Potoae Roberts Aiafi, “The Nature of Public Policy Processes in the Pacific Islands,” Asia and the Pacific Policy Studies 4, no. 3 (2017): 451–66. 36. Etel Solingen, Regional Orders at Century’s Dawn: Global and Domestic Influences on Grand Strategy (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1998); Etel Solingen, “Pax Asiatic versus Bella Levantina: The Foundations of War and Peace in East Asia and the Middle East,” American Political Science Review 101, no. 4 (2007): 757–80. 37. Hamilton-Hart, Hard Interests, Soft Illusions, 81. 38. Stein Tonnesson, “Peace by Development,” in Bjarnegard and Kreutz, Debating the East Asian Peace, 56–57. 39. Richard Stubbs, Rethinking Asia’s Economic Miracle: The Political Economy of War, Prosperity, and Crisis (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). See also Hamilton-Hart, Hard Interests, Soft Illusions, 48–87.

218

Notes to Pages 18–20

40. Hamilton-Hart, Hard Interests, Soft Illusions, 71. 41. See, e.g., Kang, Crony Capitalism; Jong-Sung You, Democracy, Inequality, and Corruption: Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines Compared (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Jeffrey Reeves, Chinese Foreign Relations with Weak Peripheral States: Asymmetrical Economic Power and Insecurity (Abingdon: Routledge, 2016). 42. Dale Copeland, “Economic Interdependence and War: A Theory of Trade Expectations,” International Security 20, no. 4 (1996): 5–41. 43. Dale Copeland, “Economic Interdependence and the Future of U.S.Chinese Relations,” in International Relations Theory and the Asia-Pacific, ed. G. John Ikenberry and Michael Mastanduno (New York: Columbia University Press, 2003), 323. 44. This is an important theme in the memoirs of both prime ministers. See Mahathir Mohamad, The Challenge (Selangor: Pelanduk Publications, 1986); Lee Kuan Yew, From Third World to First: The Singapore Story, 1965–2000 (New York: HarperCollins, 2012). 45. Kishore Mahbubani and Jeffrey Sng, The ASEAN Miracle: A Catalyst for Peace (Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2017). 46. For a semicritical overview of these arguments, see Mark Thompson, “Pacific Asia after ‘Asian Values’: Authoritarianism, Democracy, and ‘Good Governance,’ ” Third World Quarterly 25, no. 6 (2004): 1079–95. 47. Amitav Acharya, Whose Ideas Matter? Agency and Power in Asian Regionalism (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2009), 69–74. 48. On ASEAN norms, see especially Jurgen Haacke, ASEAN’s Diplomatic and Security Culture: Origins, Development, and Prospects (Abingdon: Routledge, 2003); Amitav Acharya, “Collective Identity and Conflict Management in Southeast Asia,” in Security Communities, ed. Emanuel Adler and Michael Barnett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 198– 227. 49. Acharya, Whose Ideas Matter?; Amitav Acharya, Constructing a Security Community in Southeast Asia: ASEAN and the Problem of Regional Order (Abingdon: Routledge, 2001). 50. Qin Yaqing and Wei Ling, “Structure, Processes, and the Socialization of Power: East Asian Community-Building and the Rise of China,” in China’s Ascent: Power, Security, and the Future of International Politics, ed. Robert Ross and Zhu Feng (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2008), 115–38. 51. David Capie, “When Does Track 2 Matter? Structure, Agency, and Asian Regionalism,” Review of International Political Economy 17, no. 2 (2010): 291–318; David Capie and Brendan Taylor, “The Shangri-La Dialogue and the Institutionalization of Defense Diplomacy in Asia,” Pacific Review 23, no. 3 (2010): 359–76. 52. Robert Kelly, “A ‘Confucian Long Peace’ in Pre-Western East Asia?” European Journal of International Relations 18, no. 3 (2011): 407–30.

Notes to Pages 20–23

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53. David Kang, China Rising: Peace, Power, and Order in East Asia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007); David Kang, American Grand Strategy and East Asian Security in the Twenty-First Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). 54. Simon Chesterman and Kishore Mahbubani, “The Asian Way of Handling the World,” The Guardian, March 4, 2010, https://www.theguardian. com/commentisfree/2010/mar/04/global-problem-solving-asian-way. 55. See, e.g., Acharya, Whose Ideas Matter? 56. Victor Cha, “Complex Patchwork: US Alliances as Part of Asia’s Regional Architecture,” Asia Policy 11, no. 1 (2011): 27–50. 57. Andrew Yeo, Asia’s Regional Architecture: Alliances and Institutions in the Pacific Century (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2019); Martina Timmermann and Jitsuo Tsuchiyama, eds., Institutionalizing Northeast Asia: Regional Steps toward Global Governance (New York: UN University Press, 2008). 58. Yeo, Asia’s Regional Architecture, 4. 59. Goldsmith, “The East Asian Peace.” 60. Jack Levy, “Domestic Politics and War,” in The Origin and Prevention of Major Wars, ed. Robert Rotberg and Theodore Rabb (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 88. 61. Michael Doyle, “Three Pillars of the Liberal Peace,” American Political Science Review 99, no. 3 (2005): 463–66. 62. Robert Powell, “Absolute and Relative Gains in International Relations Theory,” American Political Science Review 85, no. 4 (1991): 1303–20. 63. Kai He, “Does ASEAN Matter? International Relations Theories, Institutional Realism, and ASEAN,” Asian Security 2, no. 3 (2006): 189–214. 64. Joanne Wallis and Anna Powles, Australia and New Zealand in the Pacific Islands: Ambiguous Allies? (Canberra: Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, 2018), 7. 65. For a comparison of ASEAN and PIF, see Derek McDougall, “The (In)effectiveness of Security Regionalism: Comparing ASEAN and the Pacific Islands Forum,” in The Evolution of Regionalism in Asia: Economic and Security Issues, ed. Heribert Dieter (Abingdon: Routledge, 2007), 160–76. 66. Kai He, “Constructing Dynamic Security Governance: Institutional Peace through Multilateralism in the Asia Pacific,” Journal of Contemporary East Asian Studies 8, no. 2 (2019): 141–56. 67. David Bearce and Sawa Omori, “How Do Commercial Institutions Promote Peace?” Journal of Peace Research 42, no. 6 (2005): 659–78; Ramon Clarete, Christopher Edmonds, and Jessica Seddon Wallack, “Asian Regionalism and Its Effects on Trade in the 1980s and 1990s,” Journal of Asian Economics 14, no. 1 (2003): 91–129; John Ravenhill, APEC and the Construction of Pacific Rim Regionalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 134–85.

220

Notes to Pages 24–29

68. Van Jackson, “Buffers, Not Bridges: Rethinking Multilateralism and the Resilience of Japan–South Korea Friction,” International Studies Review 20, no. 1 (2018): 127–51. 69. Lind, “Democratization and Stability in East Asia.” 70. Robert Keohane and Lisa Martin, “The Promise of Institutionalist Theory,” International Security 20, no. 1 (1995): 47–48. 71. Vijay Gokhale, “How the South China Sea Situation Plays Out Will be Critical for India’s Security,” Indian Express, June 16, 2020, https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/south-china-sea-dispute-aseancountries-relations-vijay-gokhale-6460680/. 72. Hans J. Morgenthau, Scientific Man versus Power Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1946), 95–105. 73. We cannot easily distinguish sources of peace based on mind-set or culture from the practices and institutions that often co-constitute them. We often see the same thing but might characterize it differently. As a result, the following chapters discuss institutions, practices, and norms together as part of regionalism. 74. Kenneth Waltz, “Evaluating Theories,” American Political Science Review 91, no. 4 (1997): 915. 75. Jeffrey Friedman, War and Chance: Assessing Uncertainty in International Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019). 76. On the nature of radical uncertainty, see John Kay and Mervyn King, Radical Uncertainty: Decision-Making beyond the Numbers (New York: W. W. Norton, 2020). 77. King and Kay, Radical Uncertainty, 306. 78. Balance between means and ends is one of the generally accepted best practices in strategy. See, e.g., B. H. Liddell Hart, Strategy (New York: Praeger, 1967), 335. 79. Imre Lakatos, “History of Science and Its Rational Reconstructions,” Proceedings of the Biennial Meeting of the Philosophy of Science Association, 1970, 104. 80. On the importance of realistic assessments and risk awareness for strategy, see Richard Rumelt, Good Strategy / Bad Strategy: The Difference and Why It Matters (New York: Crown Business, 2011).

Chapter Two.  Founding the Asian Peace  1. Although intuitive, this is one of the key insights from historical institutionalism. See, e.g., Orfeo Fioretos, “Historical Institutionalism and International Relations,” International Organization 65, no. 2 (2011): 380.  2. “Document 203: Joint Statement Following Discussions with Leaders of the People’s Republic of China,” Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976, vol. 17, China 1969–1972, ed. Daniel J. Lawler and Erin R. Mahan (Washington, D.C.: U.S. GPO, 2010), document 203.

Notes to Pages 30–31

221

 3. “Adlai Ewing Stevenson: An Urbane, Witty, Articulate Politician and Diplomat,” New York Times, July 15, 1965. On Nixon’s anticommunist bona fides, see Michael Heale, “Red Scare Politics: California’s Campaign against Un-American Activities, 1940–1970,” Journal of American Studies 20, no. 1 (1986): 5–32.  4. He Di, “The Most Respected Enemy: Mao Zedong’s Perception of the United States,” China Quarterly, no. 137 (1994): 144–58. See also Chen Jian, Mao’s China and the Cold War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001).  5. J. H. Kalicki, The Pattern of Sino-American Crises: Political-Military Interactions in the 1950s (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975).  6. William Burr and Jeffrey Richelson, “Whether to ‘Strangle the Baby in the Cradle’: The United States and the Chinese Nuclear Program, 1960– 1964,” International Security 25, no. 3 (2000–2001): 54–99.  7. Robeson Taj Frazier, The East Is Black: Cold War China in the Black Radical Imagination (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2014); Kenneth Ray Young and Dan Green, “Harbinger to Nixon: W. E. B. Du Bois in China,” Negro History Bulletin 35, no. 6 (1972): 125–28.  8. Frazier, The East Is Black, 31–32, 193–207.  9. Evelyn Goh, Constructing the U.S. Rapprochement with China, 1961–1974: From “Red Menace” to “Tacit Ally” (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 10. Walter Isaacson and Evan Thomas, The Wise Men: Six Friends and the World They Made (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986), 466. 11. Nancy Bernkopf Tucker, The China Threat: Memories, Myths, and Realities in the 1950s (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 165. 12. Charles W. Freeman Jr., “The Process of Rapprochement,” in Sino-American Normalization and Its Policy Implications, ed. Gen Hsiao and Michael Witunsky (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1983), 2. 13. Zhou Enlai relayed this to Nixon during their first meeting in 1972. As quoted in James Mann, About Face: A History of America’s Curious Relationship with China, from Nixon to Clinton (New York: Vintage, 2000), 45. 14. These options are summarized in Goh, Constructing the U.S. Rapprochement with China, 10–13. 15. See Goh, Constructing the U.S. Rapprochement with China, 218. 16. Goh, Constructing the U.S. Rapprochement with China, 11. See also Robert S. Litwak, Détente and the Nixon Doctrine: American Foreign Policy and the Pursuit of Stability, 1969–1976 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 80–116. 17. For the evolution of Mao’s foreign policy thinking, see Chen Jian, Mao’s China and the Cold War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001); Michael Sheng, Battling Western Imperialism: Mao, Stalin, and the United States (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1998).

222

Notes to Pages 32–35

18. Mao’s initiation of the 1958 Taiwan Strait crisis, for instance, was a repudiation of the Soviets’ compromise with Western imperialism. Michael M. Sheng, “Mao and China’s Relations with the Superpowers in the 1950s: A New Look at the Taiwan Strait Crises and the Sino-Soviet Split,” Modern China 34, no. 4 (2008): 477–507. 19. Kuisong Yang and Yafeng Xia, “Vacillating between Revolution and Détente: Mao’s Changing Psyche and Policy toward the United States, 1969–1976,” Diplomatic History 34, no. 2 (2010): 399. 20. Yang and Xia, “Vacillating between Revolution and Détente,” 399. 21. Yang and Xia, 397. 22. As quoted in Mann, About Face, 33; John Holdridge, “Through China’s Backdoor,” in War and Peace with China: First-Hand Experiences in the Foreign Service of the United States, ed. Marshall Green, John Holdridge, and William Stokes (Bethesda, Md.: Dacor Press, 1994), 124. 23. Nancy Bernkopf Tucker, “Taiwan Expendable? Nixon and Kissinger Go to China,” Journal of American History 92, no. 1 (2005): 110. 24. Nancy Bernkopf Tucker, Strait Talk: United States–Taiwan Relations and the Crisis with China (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2009), 29–52. 25. Mann, About Face, 29. 26. As quoted in Mann, 30. 27. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, “Jackson’s ‘China Card,’ ” Washington Post, July 12, 1974; Tom Wicker, “A Needed Debate,” New York Times, July 9, 1974; “Interview with Senator Henry M. Jackson,” Washington Quarterly 1, no. 4 (1978): 99–103. 28. “Document 203: Joint Statement Following Discussions with Leaders of the People’s Republic of China,” Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976, vol. 17, China 1969–1972, ed. Daniel J. Lawler and Erin R. Mahan (Washington, D.C.: U.S. GPO, 2010), Document 203. 29. Mann, About Face, 59–60. 30. Michael Pillsbury, “U.S.-China Military Ties?” Foreign Policy, no. 20 (Autumn 1975): 58. 31. Pillsbury, “U.S.-China Military Ties?” 58. 32. The China lobby’s ties to Republican politics during the Cold War is well documented. See Tucker, Strait Talk, 72–76; Stanley D. Bachrack, The Committee of One Million: “China Lobby” Politics, 1953–1971 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976); Robert Sutter, U.S. Policy toward China: An Introduction to the Role of Interest Groups (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998); Joseph Keeley, The China Lobby Man: The Story of Alfred Kohlberg (New Rochelle, N.Y.: Arlington House Publishers, 1969). 33. Mann, About Face, 72. 34. As quoted in Mann, 69. 35. The Gang of Four were a cadre of political leaders, spearheaded by Mao Tse-tung’s wife, Jiang Qing, who were deeply complicit in the excesses of the Cultural Revolution.

Notes to Pages 35–40

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36. Hsu, China without Mao, 3–25; Andres D. Onate, “Hua Kuo-feng and the Arrest of the ‘Gang of Four,’ ” China Quarterly, no. 75 (1978): 540–65. 37. Tucker, Strait Talk, 72. 38. Mann, About Face, 70. 39. Mann, 70. 40. Immanuel C. Y. Hsu, China without Mao: The Search for a New Order (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 57. 41. As quoted in Zbigniew Brzezinski, Power and Principle: Memoirs of the National Security Adviser, 1977–1981 (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983), 196. 42. As quoted in Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 451–55. 43. Ezra Vogel, Deng Xiaoping and the Transformation of China (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2013), 217–376. 44. Hsu, China without Mao, 62; Tucker, Strait Talk, 107–26. 45. Hsu, China without Mao, 65–66. 46. As quoted in Mann, About Face, 86. 47. William J. Perry, My Journey at the Nuclear Brink (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2015), 57–71. 48. The best history on Carter’s attempt to withdraw troops from South Korea, and why it failed, is Clint Work, “A Fly in Amber: Carter’s Korea Troop Withdrawal and the Recasting of U.S. Hegemony and Korean Agency” (PhD diss., University of Washington, 2019). 49. Mann, About Face, 100–101. 50. Green, By More than Providence, 375. 51. Kevin Klose, “Soviets and Vietnamese Sign Treaty, Warn Chinese,” Washington Post, November 4, 1978, https://www.washingtonpost.com/ archive/politics/1978/11/04/soviets-and-vietnamese-sign-treaty-warnchinese/e7be2390-fc73-441d-b91c-2a196d6476b7/. 52. Memorandum from the President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Brzezinski) to President Carter, July 7, 1978, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1977–1980, vol. 1, Foundations of Foreign Policy, ed. Daniel J. Lawler and Erin R. Mahan (Washington, D.C.: U.S. GPO, 2010), document 91. 53. Memorandum from the President’s Assistant. 54. As quoted in Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 409. 55. Brzezinski, 408–11. 56. As quoted in Michael Green, By More than Providence: Grand Strategy and American Power in the Asia Pacific since 1783 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2017), 383. 57. Xiaoming Zhang, Deng Xiaoping’s Long War: The Military Conflict between China and Vietnam, 1979–1991 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2015). 58. Andrew Scobell, China’s Use of Military Force: Beyond the Great Wall and the Long March (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 119–43. 59. Zhang, Deng Xiaoping’s Long War, 5.

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Notes to Pages 40–45

60. Zhang, 7. 61. Ren Xiao, “Idea Change Matters: China’s Practices and the East Asian Peace,” Asian Perspective 40, no. 2 (2016): 329–56.

Chapter Three.  Conservative Domination of Asia  1. Jose Edgardo Campos and Hilton Root, The Key to the Asian Miracle: Economic Growth and Public Policy (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 1993).  2. Ha-Joon Chang, “Kicking Away the Ladder: Infant Industry Promotion in Historical Perspective,” Oxford Development Studies 31, no. 1 (2003): 21–32. See also Michael Franczak, “Losing the Battle, Winning the War: Neoconservatives versus the New International Economic Order, 1974– 1982,” Diplomatic History 43, no. 5 (2019): 867–88; Robert Gilpin, “APEC in a New International Order,” NBR Analysis 6, no. 5 (Seattle, Wash.: National Bureau of Asian Research, 1995).  3. Inducing restraint in Soviet conduct was established as a primary goal in National Security Decision Directive 32. Ronald Reagan, “U.S. National Security Strategy,” National Security Decision Directive Number 32 (Washington, D.C.: White House, May 20, 1982), https://fas.org/irp/ offdocs/nsdd/nsdd-32.pdf.  4. Fareed Zakaria, “The Reagan Strategy of Containment,” Political Science Quarterly 105, no. 3 (1990): 374.  5. Ronald Reagan, An American Life: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990), 267.  6. Secretary of the Navy John Lehman, as quoted in Joshua Epstein, “Horizontal Escalation: Sour Notes on a Recurrent Theme,” International Security 8, no. 3 (1983–84): 20.  7. Zakaria, “The Reagan Strategy of Containment.”  8. Caspar Weinberger, Annual Report to the Congress for Fiscal Year 1983 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. GPO, 1982), I-16–17.  9. Narushige Michishita, Peter Swartz, and David Winkler, Lessons of the Cold War in the Pacific: U.S. Maritime Strategy, Crisis Prevention, and Japan’s Role (Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 2016); Hal Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment: U.S. Foreign Policy and the Rise of the Post–Cold War Order (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2016), 76–78; Dmitry Filipoff, oral history interviews for the 1980s Maritime Strategy Series, Center for International Maritime Security, March 22, 2021, https://cimsec.org/1980s-maritime-strategyseries-kicks-off-on-cimsec/. 10. Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 76–78. 11. Vladimir Kuzin and Sergei Chernyaviskii, “Russian Reactions to Reagan’s ‘Maritime Strategy,’ ” Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 2 (2005): 429–39. 12. Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 93–94.

Notes to Pages 45–49

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13. President’s Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, Report on the Soviet “War Scare,” February 15, 1990, p. 3, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu//nukevault/ ebb533-The-Able-Archer-War-Scare-Declassified-PFIAB-ReportReleased/2012-0238-MR.pdf. 14. Paul Lettow, Ronald Reagan and His Quest to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (New York: Random House, 2006). 15. Richard Purcell, “In 1983, American Provocations—and Soviet Fear— Drove the World Closer to Nuclear War,” War Is Boring, March 8, 2018, https://warisboring.com/in-1983-american-provocations-and-sovietfear-drove-the-world-closer-to-nuclear-war/. 16. Mark Ambinder, The Brink: President Reagan and the Nuclear War Scare of 1983 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2018). 17. Petra Goedde, The Politics of Peace: A Global Cold War History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 67–95. 18. Stephen Brooks and William Wohlforth, “Power, Globalization, and the End of the Cold War: Reevaluating a Landmark Case for Ideas,” International Security 25, no. 3 (2000–2001): 5–53. 19. Robert English, “Power, Ideas, and New Evidence on the Cold War’s End: A Reply to Brooks and Wohlforth,” International Security 26, no. 4 (2002): 70–92. 20. Reagan, “U.S. National Security Strategy,” National Security Decision Directive Number 32. 21. George Shultz, “Diplomacy, Wired,” Hoover Digest, January 30, 1998, https://www.hoover.org/research/diplomacy-wired. 22. “Republican Party Platform of 1980,” Detroit, Michigan, July 15, 1980, American Presidency Project, https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/republican-party-platform-1980. 23. David Morrison, “Japanese Principles, U.S. Policies,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 41, no. 6 (1985): 22–24. 24. James Nathan, “The Maritime Strategy and the US Alliances: Prospects and Forebodings,” International Relations (November 1987): 166–68. 25. Green, By More than Providence, 407. 26. Chae-Jin Lee, Reagan Faces Korea: Alliance Politics and Quiet Diplomacy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 259. 27. Terence Roehrig, “The U.S. Nuclear Umbrella over South Korea: Nuclear Weapons and Extended Deterrence,” Political Science Quarterly 132, no. 4 (2017): 651–84. 28. On strategic alignment contra alliances, see Thomas Wilkins, “ ‘Alignment’ Not ‘Alliance’—the Shifting Paradigm of International Security Cooperation: Toward a Conceptual Taxonomy of Alignment,” Review of International Studies 38, no. 1 (2012): 53–76. 29. As quoted in Mann, About Face, 122. 30. Ronald Reagan, “Arms Sales to Taiwan,” White House Memo to Secretary of State George Shultz and Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger,

226

Notes to Pages 49–51

August 17, 1982, https://www.ait.org.tw/wp-content/uploads/sites/269/ 08171982-Reagan-Memo-DECLASSIFIED.pdf. 31. See especially Richard Bush, Untying the Knot: Making Peace in the Taiwan Strait (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2005). 32. In 1983, Reagan personally pledged to Marcos to deliver $900 million of security assistance over five years. By 1987, the United States was regularly delivering between $125 and $200 million annually to the Armed Forces of the Philippines. Security assistance figures are cataloged in James Morris, “U.S. Military Assistance to Philippine Ground Forces” (MA thesis, U.S. Army Command and Staff General College, Fort Leavenworth, 1975). 33. On the shifting strategic value of base access in the Philippines, see Christopher Capozzola, Bound by War: How the United States and the Philippines Built America’s First Pacific Century (New York: Basic Books, 2020), 295–336. 34. William Tow, “The ANZUS Alliance and United States Security Interests,” in ANZUS in Crisis: Alliance Management and International Affairs, ed. Jacob Bercovitch (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1988), 55–82. 35. Paul Wolfowitz, “The ANZUS Relationship: Alliance Management,” Australian Outlook 38, no. 3 (1984): 148–52. 36. Kevin Morris, “Navigating the Compact of Free Association: Three Decades of Supervised Self-Governance,” University of Hawai’i Law Review 41, no. 2 (2019): 384–440. 37. Martha Smith-Norris, Domination and Resistance: The United States and the Marshall Islands during the Cold War (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2016), 125–51. 38. As quoted in Morris, “Navigating the Compact of Free Association,” 388. 39. As quoted in “The Maritime Strategy and the US Alliances,” 166. 40. Joseph Camilleri, The Australia–New Zealand–U.S. Alliance: Regional Security in the Nuclear Age (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1987), 125. 41. Camilleri, Australia–New Zealand–U.S. Alliance, 124–28. 42. Henry Cronic, “New Zealand’s Anti-nuclear Legislation and the United States in 1985,” Sources and Methods, August 26, 2020, https://www. wilsoncenter.org/blog-post/new-zealands-anti-nuclear-legislation-andunited-states-1985?fbclid=IwAR30IWD7GHrrCFRobGjgXY4hkbj_ yIykgAo47tkAzixl5b0d0D6IiDQWWYs. 43. National Security Decision Directive 193, “U.S. Policy on the New Zealand Port Access Issue,” October 21, 1985, https://www.reaganlibrary. gov/reagans/reagan-administration/nsdd-digitized-reference-copies. 44. CIA memorandum for the President, “United States Policy toward the New Zealand Government with Respect to the Port Access Issue,” February 28, 1985, https://www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIARDP87M00220R000100030021-5.pdf. 45. Lee, Reagan Faces Korea, 267.

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46. Lee. 47. Lee, 155–95; David Straub, Anti-Americanism in Democratizing South Korea (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford Asia-Pacific Research Center, 2015). 48. Straub, Anti-Americanism in Democratizing South Korea. 49. George Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph: Diplomacy, Power, and the Victory of the American Ideal (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1993), 173. 50. Green, By More than Providence, 397. 51. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 173–74. 52. M. J. Heale, “Anatomy of a Scare: Yellow Peril Politics in America, 1980– 1993,” Journal of American Studies 43, no. 1 (2009): 19–47. 53. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 192. 54. Shultz, 193. 55. Shultz, 193. 56. As quoted in Robert Downen, “Reagan Policy of Strategic Cooperation with China: Implications for Asia-Pacific Stability,” Journal of East Asian Affairs 2, no. 1 (1982): 52. 57. John Holdridge, “Testimony before the House Foreign Affairs Committee,” in U.S. Relations with China, July 16, 1981 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State Bureau of Public Affairs, 1981), 3. 58. Mann, About Face, 128. 59. Ken Silverstein, “The Mandarins: American Foreign Policy, Brought to You by China,” Harper’s Magazine, August 2008, 53; Alexander Haig, Caveat: Realism, Reagan and Foreign Policy (New York: Macmillan, 1984), 194; Mann, About Face, 119. 60. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 382. 61. Mann, About Face, 132. 62. Mann, 137. 63. Mann, 140. 64. Shirley Kan, U.S.-China Military Contacts: Issues for Congress (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 2014), 1; Mann, About Face, 142– 43. 65. Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 218. 66. John Holdridge, “Testimony before the House Foreign Affairs Committee,” in U.S. Relations with China, July 16, 1981 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State Bureau of Public Affairs, 1981), 2. 67. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 396. 68. Defense Intelligence Agency, “China’s Perception of External Threat,” Digital National Security Archive, November 1984, document number DDB-2200-241-84. 69. As quoted in Lowell Dittmer, “The 12th Party Congress of the Communist Party of China,” China Quarterly, no. 93 (1983): 115. 70. As quoted in Dittmer, “The 12th Party Congress,” 121. 71. M. Taylor Fravel, Active Defense: China’s Military Strategy since 1949 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2019), 142–44.

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72. As quoted in Richard Baum, Burying Mao: Chinese Politics in the Age of Deng Xiaoping (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1994), 183–85. 73. Fravel, Active Defense, 143. 74. Jia-Lin Zhang, “The New Romanticism in the Reagan Administration’s Asian Policy: Illusion and Reality,” Asian Survey 24, no. 10 (1984): 997– 1011. 75. Stephan Haggard, Pathways from the Periphery: The Politics of Growth in Newly Industrializing Countries (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1990), 126–60. 76. Mitchell Bernard and John Ravenhill, “Beyond Product Cycles and Flying Geese: Regionalization, Hierarchy, and the Industrialization of East Asia,” World Politics 47, no. 1 (1995): 171–209. 77. Bernard and Ravenhill, “Beyond Product Cycles and Flying Geese,” 172. 78. America’s role is both acknowledged and downplayed in most studies of Asia’s economic growth during the “miracle” era. For classic examples, see World Bank, The East Asian Miracle: Economic Growth and Public Policy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993); Hilton Root, Small Countries, Big Lessons: Governance and the Rise of East Asia (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996). 79. Incidentally, these were the culminating domestic conditions that made Donald Trump’s presidency possible. 80. Robert Gilpin, “American Policy in the Post-Reagan Era,” Daedalus 116, no. 3 (1987): 48. 81. Peter Katzenstein and Takashi Shiraishi, eds., Network Power: Japan and Asia (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1997). 82. Paul Krugman, “The Myth of Asia’s Miracle,” Foreign Affairs, November– December 1994, 62–78; Leszek Buszynski, “ASEAN: A Changing Regional Role,” Asian Survey 27, no. 7 (1987): 778. 83. Reagan, “U.S. National Security Strategy,” National Security Decision Directive Number 32, 2. 84. See, e.g., Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 218–20. 85. Haggard, Pathways from the Periphery, 127–28. 86. Stephen Cohen, “The Route to Japan’s Voluntary Export Restraints on Automobiles: An Analysis of the U.S. Government’s Decision-Making in 1981,” Working Paper No. 2 (Washington, D.C.: National Security Archive U.S.-Japan Project, 2001). 87. Glenn Frankel, “U.S. Aided Cigarette Firms in Conquests across Asia,” Washington Post, November 17, 1996, A01. 88. Buszynski, “ASEAN,” 777–78. 89. Buszynski, 777–78. 90. Jusuf Wanandi, “U.S. Protectionism Raises Question of Pacific Security,” Far Eastern Economic Review, April 24, 1986, 28–29; Tom Jackson, “The Game of ASEAN Trade Preferences: Alternatives for the Future of Trade Liberalization,” ASEAN Economic Bulletin 3, no. 2 (1986): 255–68.

Notes to Pages 61–64

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 91. See, e.g., “Toward the Summit: View from the Oval Office; Transcript of President’s Speech on Summit Talks Next Week,” New York Times, November 15, 1985, A10.  92. On the neoconservative influences during the Reagan years, see Mann, Rise of the Vulcans: The History of Bush’s War Cabinet (New York: Penguin, 2004).  93. Reagan, “U.S. National Security Strategy,” National Security Decision Directive Number 32, 3.  94. Samuel Moyn, The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2010), 217–19.  95. Quinn Slobodian, Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2018).  96. For this interpretation, see, e.g., Jason Hickel, The Divide: Global Inequality from Conquest to Free Markets (New York: W. W. Norton, 2018).  97. Jean Kirkpatrick, “Dictatorship and Double Standards,” Commentary, November 1979, https://www.commentarymagazine.com/articles/jeanekirkpatrick/dictatorships-double-standards/.  98. On morality and the Reagan Doctrine, see Richard Johnson, “Misguided Morality: Ethics and the Reagan Doctrine,” Political Science Quarterly 103, no. 3 (1988): 509–29.  99. “Human Rights Policy,” action memorandum from Director of the Policy Planning Staff (Wolfowitz) and the Assistant Secretary of State for European and Eurasian Affairs (Eagleburger) to Secretary of State Haig, Foreign Relations of the United States 1981–1988, Vol. XLI, Global Issues II, Document 53, October 2, 1981, https://history.state. gov/historicaldocuments/frus1981-88v41/d53. 100. “Human Rights Policy.” 101. Memorandum from Richard Allen to the President, “Your Meeting with President Chun of Korea,” February 6, 1981, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB306/ doc05.pdf. 102. Hedrick Smith, “Reagan, in U.S., Says China Trip Advanced Ties,” New York Times, May 2, 1984, https://www.nytimes.com/1984/05/02/world/ reagan-in-us-says-china-trip-advanced-ties.html. 103. Mann, About Face, 155. 104. Geoffrey Robinson, “If You Leave Us Here, We Will Die”: How Genocide Was Stopped in East Timor (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). 105. Mann, Rise of the Vulcans, 131. 106. Nick Davies, “The $10bn Question: What Happened to the Marcos Millions?” The Guardian, May 7, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2016/may/07/10bn-dollar-question-marcos-millions-nick-davies. 107. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 628–30. 108. Shultz, 629.

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Notes to Pages 64–68

109. David Hoffman and Lou Cannon, “In Crucial Call, Laxalt Told Marcos: ‘Cut Cleanly,’ ” Washington Post, February 26, 1986, https://www. washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1986/02/26/in-crucial-call-laxalttold-marcos-cut-cleanly/9329b85d-f7b0-4021-884d-5e5e659a4cb0/. 110. Hoffman and Cannon, “In Crucial Call, Laxalt Told Marcos.” 111. Hoffman and Cannon. 112. R. Sean Randolph, “Pacific Overtures,” Foreign Policy, no. 57 (1984): 130; Green, By More than Providence, 213. 113. Randolph, “Pacific Overtures,” 135. 114. Ambassador Richard Fairbanks III, interview by Charles Stuart Kennedy, April 19, 1989, Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training, Foreign Affairs Oral History Project, https://www.adst.org/OH%20 TOCs/Fairbanks,%20Richard%20M.III.toc.pdf. 115. Fairbanks interview. 116. Ronald Reagan, National Security Decision Directive 185, “Private Sector Cooperation in the Pacific Basin,” September 4, 1985, https://fas. org/irp/offdocs/nsdd/nsdd-185.pdf. 117. Green, By More than Providence, 212. 118. Reagan, NSDD 185, “Private Sector Cooperation in the Pacific Basin.” 119. Fairbanks interview. 120. Peter Lodge, “The United States Role in the Creation and Development of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations” (PhD diss., University of Maine, 2008), 343. 121. Ronald Reagan, Address to the Ministerial Meeting of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations in Bali, Indonesia, May 1, 1986, https:// www.reaganlibrary.gov/archives/speech/address-ministerial-meeting-association-south-east-asian-nations-bali-indonesia. 122. Gareth Porter, “The United States and Southeast Asia,” Current History 83, no. 497 (1984): 438. 123. Porter, “The United States and Southeast Asia,” 438. 124. Leszek Buszynski, “ASEAN: A Changing Regional Role,” Asian Survey 27, no. 7 (1987): 769. 125. Buszynski, “ASEAN,” 769. 126. Buszynski, 770–71. 127. Reagan, Address to the Ministerial Meeting of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations in Bali, Indonesia. 128. Jack Nelson and Eleanor Clift, “Reagan Ready to Head to Tokyo; Shultz Shows Irritation on Asia Policy Issues,” Los Angeles Times, May 2, 1986, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1986-05-02-mn-3078story.html. 129. Nelson and Clift, “Reagan Ready to Head to Tokyo.” 130. Kenneth Conboy, Challenges to the U.S.-ASEAN Quasi-Alliances (Washington, D.C.: Heritage Foundation, 1987).

Notes to Pages 71–74

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Chapter Four.  A Unipolar Imperium and Its Discontents  1. President George H. W. Bush Inauguration, Washington, D.C., January 20, 1989, https://www.c-span.org/video/?5794-1/president-george-h-wbush-inauguration.  2. On the peace dividend, see Richard Lugar, “American Foreign Policy in the Post–Cold War World,” Presidential Studies Quarterly 24, no. 1 (1994): 15–27.  3. James Mann, Rise of the Vulcans: The History of Bush’s War Cabinet (New York: Penguin Books, 2004), 198–218.  4. See, e.g., Richard Solomon, “Sustaining the Dynamic Balance in East Asia and the Pacific,” Current Policy (Washington, D.C.: Department of State), no. 1255 (1990); A Strategic Framework for the Asian Pacific Rim: Looking toward the 21st Century (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1991).  5. Jeremi Suri, “American Grand Strategy from the Cold War’s End to 9/11,” Orbis 53, no. 4 (2009): 611.  6. Richard Haass, who was a staffer on the NSC at the time, describes the meetings leading up to the decision as opinion laden but strategically anchorless, determined ultimately by Bush’s frustration with Hussein’s continued defiance. See Richard Haass, War of Necessity, War of Choice: A Memoir of Two Iraq Wars (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009), 60–115.  7. Patrick Tyler, “U.S. Strategy Plan Calls for Insuring No Rivals Develop,” New York Times, March 8, 1992, 1. The DPG was preceded by a Base Force concept under Colin Powell that set a floor below which the Pentagon would not reduce troops in Asia, but the plan lacked analytical punch and tied U.S. forces narrowly to the North Korea threat, not Taiwan, the Senkakus, or the South China Sea. See Don Snider, Strategy, Forces, and Budgets: Dominant Influences in Executive Decision Making, Post– Cold War, 1989–91 (Carlisle Barracks: Strategic Studies Institute, 1993); Martin Lasater, The New Pacific Community: U.S. Strategic Options in Asia (Abingdon: Routledge, 1996), 19–20.  8. “FY94–99 Defense Planning Guidance Sections for Comment,” Coordination Memo from Acing PDUSDP Dale Vesser to the Military Departments, February 18, 1992, Digital National Security Archive, https:// nsarchive2.gwu.edu/nukevault/ebb245/doc03_extract_nytedit.pdf. For the historiography of the document, see Hal Brands, “Choosing Primacy: U.S. Strategy and Global Order at the Dawn of the Post–Cold War Era,” Texas National Security Review 1, no. 2 (2018): 8–33.  9. Secretary of Defense Cheney had not seen the document before it leaked, but later championed it. Zalmay Khalilzad was its principal author. Paul Wolfowitz was primarily responsible for it but did not write it. 10. “FY94–99 Defense Planning Guidance Sections for Comment.”

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11. For this interpretation, see Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 298– 316. 12. As quoted in Mann, Rise of the Vulcans, 211. 13. Lasater, The New Pacific Community, 33. 14. William J. Clinton, remarks to the 48th Session of the United Nations General Assembly, New York, September 27, 1993. 15. A National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement (Washington, D.C.: White House, 1994), 23. 16. “Fundamentals of Security for a New Pacific Community,” President Clinton’s address before the National Assembly of the Republic of Korea, Seoul, Republic of Korea, July 10, 1993, https://1997-2001.state.gov/regions/eap/930710.html. 17. For a detailed analysis of the Bottom-Up Review, see Eric Larson, David Orletsky, and Kristin Leuschner, Defense Planning in a Decade of Change: Lessons from the Base Force, Bottom-Up Review, and Quadrennial Defense Review (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND Corporation, 2001), 41–81. 18. As quoted in Michael Gordon, “Making the Easy Cuts,” New York Times, March 28, 1993, 22. 19. Baker Spring, “Why Aspin’s Bottom-Up Defense Review Is a Charade,” Heritage Foundation Report, July 9, 1993. 20. Larson, Orletsky, and Leuschner, Defense Planning in a Decade of Change, 42. 21. See, e.g., Michael O’Hanlon, “Stopping a North Korean Invasion: Why Defending South Korea Is Easier than the Pentagon Thinks,” International Security 22, no. 4 (1998): 135–70; Michael O’Hanlon, “Why China Cannot Conquer Taiwan,” International Security 25, no. 2 (2000): 51–86. 22. Brands, Making the Unipolar Moment, 333. 23. O’Hanlon, “Stopping a North Korean Invasion”; O’Hanlon, “Why China Cannot Conquer Taiwan.” 24. On the resolution of the North Korea crisis, see Van Jackson, Rival Reputations: Coercion and Credibility in US–North Korea Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 163–69. On the Taiwan Strait crisis, see Robert Ross, “The 1995–1996 Taiwan Strait Confrontation: Coercion, Credibility, and the Use of Force,” International Security 25, no. 2 (2000): 87–123. 25. Jackson, Rival Reputations, 160–61. 26. Memorandum of conversation between President George H. W. Bush and Foreign Minister Wong Kan Seng, Foreign Minister of Singapore, October 4, 1991, George Bush Presidential Library Digital Records, https://bush41library.tamu.edu/files/memcons-telcons/1991-10-04-Seng. pdf. 27. Memorandum of conversation. 28. Rapp-Hooper, Shields of the Republic, 112–28; Cha, Powerplay.

Notes to Pages 77–82

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29. Evelyn Goh, “Great Powers and Hierarchical Order in Southeast Asia: Analyzing Regional Security Strategies,” International Security 32, no. 3 (2007–8): 113–57. 30. Joseph Nye, “East Asian Security: The Case for Deep Engagement,” Foreign Affairs 74, no. 4 (1995): 94. 31. See, e.g., Chalmers Johnson and E. B. Keehn, “The Pentagon’s Ossified Strategy,” Foreign Affairs 74, no. 4 (1995): 103–14; Joseph Gerson, “Architecture of U.S. Asia-Pacific Hegemony,” Peace Review 11, no. 3 (1999): 399–407. 32. William Tow, “Reshaping Asia-Pacific Security,” Journal of East Asian Affairs 8, no. 1 (1994): 95. Tow’s indictment of U.S. strategy would come in 2007. William Tow, “America’s Asia-Pacific Strategy Is Out of Kilter,” Current History 106, no. 701 (2007): 281–87. 33. Lasaster, The New Pacific Community, 11–32. 34. Lasaster, 50–81. 35. Solomon, “Sustaining the Dynamic Balance.” 36. James Baker, “America in Asia: Emerging Architecture for a Pacific Community,” Foreign Affairs 7, no. 5 (1991–92): 4. 37. A Strategic Framework for the Asian Pacific Rim, 9. 38. For instance, a 1988 National Defense Authorization Act gave the secretary of commerce and U.S. trade representative veto power over defense technology cooperation with Japan, suggesting the political primacy of economics over security in the late and post–Cold War. Green, By More than Providence, 441. 39. Baker, “America in Asia,” 4. 40. “Dealing with the North Korean Nuclear Program: Impressions from My Asia Trip,” State Department Cable for Secretary Cheney from the Secretary Baker, November 18, 1991, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB175/japan2-14.pdf. 41. “Dealing with the North Korean Nuclear Program.” 42. “The Gulf War: Impact on Japan and U.S.-Japan Relations,” declassified State Department cable, March 1991, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB175/japan2-13.pdf. 43. Baker, “America in Asia,” 14. 44. For the history of America’s temporary withdrawal from the Philippines, see Capozzola, Bound by War, 328–36. 45. Mann, Rise of the Vulcans, 206–8. 46. A Strategic Framework for the Asian Pacific Rim: Looking toward the 21st Century (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1992), 15. 47. Nye, “East Asian Security,” 90. 48. National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement, 23–24. 49. The most important contribution to this literature was by Celeste Wallander, who would serve in the Obama administration. Celeste Wallander,

234

Notes to Pages 83–87

“Institutional Assets and Adaptability: NATO after the Cold War,” International Organization 54, no. 4 (2000): 705–35. 50. United States Security Strategy for the East Asia-Pacific Region (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1995), 2. 51. United States Security Strategy, 5–8. 52. United States Security Strategy, 5–8. 53. Il Hyun Cho, “Downsizing Hegemony: Alliance, Domestic Politics, and American Retrenchment in East Asia, 1969–2017,” Asian Security 14, no. 3 (2018): 254–56. 54. On the Republican Congress’s opposition to dealmaking with North Korea under Clinton, see Van Jackson, “Threat Consensus and Rapprochement Failure: Revisiting the Collapse of U.S.–North Korea Relations, 1994–2002,” Foreign Policy Analysis 14, no. 2 (2018): 107–32. 55. James Mann, The China Fantasy: Why Capitalism Will Not Bring Democracy to China (New York: Penguin Books, 2008). 56. As quoted in Jeffrey Engel, When the World Seemed New: George H. W. Bush and the End of the Cold War (New York: Mariner Books, 2018), 150. 57. Engel, When the World Seemed New, 150. 58. “Tiananmen Protest Death Toll ‘Was 10,000,’ ” BBC News, December 23, 2017, https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-42465516. 59. Dingxin Zhao, The Power of Tiananmen: State-Society Relations and the 1989 Beijing Student Movement (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 79–100. 60. Lawrence Sullivan, “Assault on the Reforms: Conservative Criticism of Political and Economic Liberalization in China, 1985–1986,” China Quarterly, no. 114 (1988): 198–222. 61. Baum, Burying Mao, 294. 62. Suisheng Zhao, “Deng Xiaoping’s Southern Tour: Elite Politics in PostTiananmen China,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 (1993): 739–56. 63. Mann, About Face, 195–98. 64. Mann, 227. 65. Lawrence Eagleburger, “U.S. Policy toward China,” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 101st Congress, 2nd Sess., February 7, 1990. 66. Winston Lord, testimony before the House Judiciary Committee, January 23, 1990, Congressional Record—House, 20–21, https://archive.org/stream/ congressionalrec136aunit#page/n13/mode/1up; Mann, About Face, 229. 67. MFN status had to be renewed annually since 1980 because of its prior designation as a “non-market economy” under the Trade Act of 1974. 68. Background paper and talking points, “The President’s July 8 Meeting with Prime Minister Kaifu,” July 8, 1990, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB175/japan2-11.pdf. 69. Solomon, “Sustaining the Dynamic Balance.” 70. Solomon, 3.

Notes to Pages 87–91

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71. Third Way liberalism was a transnational shift within center-left parties to embrace market-friendly policies. See Stephanie Mudge, Leftism Reinvented: Western Parties from Socialism to Neoliberalism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2018). 72. Confirmation hearing for Winston Lord before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, March 31, 1993, https://1997-2001.state.gov/regions/ eap/930331.html. 73. National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement, 24. 74. “Clinton’s Words on China: Trade Is the Smart Thing,” New York Times, March 9, 2000, https://www.nytimes.com/2000/03/09/world/clinton-swords-on-china-trade-is-the-smart-thing.html. 75. Tucker, Strait Talk, 215–27; Barton Gellman, “U.S. and China Nearly Came to Blows in ’96,” Washington Post, June 21, 1998, https://www. washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1998/06/21/us-and-china-nearlycame-to-blows-in-96/926d105f-1fd8-404c-9995-90984f86a613/. 76. Calculated from U.S. Census Bureau, “Trade in Goods with China,” 1992–2000, https://www.census.gov/foreign-trade/balance/c5700.html. 77. National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement, 24. 78. Characterization from David Rothkopf, as quoted in Gellman, “U.S. and China Nearly Came to Blows.” 79. Xiao, “Idea Change Matters.” 80. Sushant Singh, “Explained: If Soldiers on LAC Were Carrying Arms, Why Did They Not Open Fire?” Indian Express, June 20, 2020, https:// indianexpress.com/article/explained/explained-if-soldiers-on-lac-werecarrying-arms-why-did-they-not-open-fire-6467324/. 81. Mann, About Face, 227–29. 82. James A. Baker III, with Thomas M. DeFrank, The Politics of Diplomacy: Revolution, War and Peace, 1989–1992 (New York: Putnam, 1995), 5–6. 83. Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, 6. 84. Tow, “Reshaping Asia-Pacific Security,” 96. 85. Mie Oba, “Regional Arrangements for Trade in Northeast Asia,” in Asia’s New Institutional Architecture: Evolving Structures for Managing Trade, Financial, and Security Relations, ed. Vinod Aggarwal and Min Gyo Koo (Berlin: Springer, 2008), 96–97. 86. Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, 610–11. 87. Mark Beeson, “APEC: Nice Theory, Shame about the Practice,” Australian Quarterly 68, no. 2 (1996): 35–48. 88. Vinod Aggarwal and Charles Morrison, “APEC as an International Institution,” in APEC: Its Challenges and Tasks in the 21st Century, ed. Ippei Yamazawa (Abingdon: Routledge, 2000), 298–300. 89. Mutthiah Alagappa, “Regionalism and the Quest for Security: ASEAN and the Cambodian Conflict,” Australian Journal of International Affairs 47, no. 2 (1993): 189–209. For a contrarian take, see Michael Leifer, “The ASEAN Peace Process: A Category Mistake,” Pacific Review 12, no. 1 (1999): 25–38.

236

Notes to Pages 92–97

 90. See, e.g., memorandum of conversation between President George H. W. Bush and Foreign Minister Wong Kan Seng, Foreign Minister of Singapore, October 4, 1991, George Bush Presidential Library Digital Records, https://bush41library.tamu.edu/files/memcons-telcons/1991-10-04Seng.pdf.  91. Nye, “East Asian Security,” 95.  92. Nye, 102.  93. John Ravenhill, APEC and the Construction of Pacific Rim Regionalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).  94. As quoted in Lasater, The New Pacific Community, 56–57.  95. Oba, “Regional Arrangements for Trade,” 95–96.  96. Helen Nesadurai, “APEC: A Tool of US Domination?” Pacific Review 9, no. 1 (1996): 31–57.  97. William Jefferson Clinton, “Remarks to the Seattle APEC Host Committee,” Blake Island, Seattle, Washington, November 19, 1993, https://www. presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/remarks-the-seattle-apec-host-committee.  98. For critical views of the IMF’s impositions, see Jeffrey Sachs, “The IMF and the Asian Flu,” American Prospect, December 19, 2001, https://prospect.org/economy/imf-asian-flu/; Robert Wade and Frank Veneroso, “The Asian Crisis: The High Debt Model versus the Wall Street–Treasury-IMF Complex,” New Left Review 1, no. 228 (March–April 1998): 3–24.  99. For an overview, see Phillip Lipsy, “Japan’s Asian Monetary Fund Proposal,” Stanford Journal of East Asian Affairs 3, no. 1 (2003): 93–104. 100. Shintaro Hamanaka, Asian Regionalism and Japan: The Politics of Membership in Regional Diplomatic, Financial, and Trade Groups (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009), 112–13. 101. Hamanaka, Asian Regionalism and Japan, 112–13. 102. Oba, “Regional Arrangements for Trade,” 99. 103. Oba, 96–97. 104. Document 04, White House, “Memorandum of Telephone Conversation with Soeharto, President of the Republic of Indonesia,” Air Force One, January 8, 1998, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/dc.html?doc=4616937-Document-04-White-HouseMemorandum-of. 105. Michael Pettis, The Volatility Machine: Emerging Economies and the Threat of Financial Collapse (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 14. 106. Jomo Kwami Sundaram, “What Did We Learn from the 1997–1998 Asian Debacle?” in Ten Years After: Revisiting the Asian Financial Crisis, ed. Bhumika Muchhala (Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 2007), 26. 107. The phrase “dual hierarchy” comes from G. John Ikenberry, “Between the Eagle and the Dragon: America, China, and Middle State Strategies in East Asia,” Political Science Quarterly 131, no. 1 (2016): 9–43.

Notes to Pages 98–102

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108. A Strategic Framework for the Asian Pacific Rim; memorandum of conversation between President George H. W. Bush and Foreign Minister Wong Kan Seng, Foreign Minister of Singapore. 109. James Mann, “Did President George H. W. Bush Mishandle China?” China File, December 4, 2018, https://www.chinafile.com/conversation/ did-president-george-hw-bush-mishandle-china. 110. Engel, When the World Seemed New, 121. 111. Solomon, “Sustaining the Dynamic Balance,” 3. 112. See, e.g., Bush’s press conference after the Tiananmen Square massacre, which was filled with democratic and human rights rhetoric despite his policies continuing to ignore both. https://www.c-span.org/video/?c4499868/ president-bush-reacts-tiananmen-square-crackdown. 113. The documents are retained by China File, available online at https:// www.chinafile.com/library/reports/us-china-diplomacy-after-tiananmen-documents-george-hw-bush-presidential-library. 114. Engel, When the World Seemed New, 181. 115. Maureen Dowd, “2 U.S. Officials Went to Beijing Secretly in July,” New York Times, December 19, 1989, A1. 116. State Department document titled “Themes,” June 29, 1989, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB16/ docs/doc34.pdf. 117. “Memorandum of Conversation: Meeting with Chairman Deng Xiaoping of People’s Republic of China and LTG Brent Scowcroft,” Beijing, July 2, 1989, George H. W. Bush Presidential Library files released online at https://www.chinafile.com/library/reports/us-china-diplomacyafter-tiananmen-documents-george-hw-bush-presidential-library. 118. “Memorandum of Conversation.” 119. Letter from President George H. W. Bush to Deng Xiaoping, July 21, 1989, George H. W. Bush Presidential Library files released online at https://www.chinafile.com/library/reports/us-china-diplomacy-after-tiananmen-documents-george-hw-bush-presidential-library. 120. As quoted in Engel, When the World Seemed New, 180. 121. As quoted in Lasater, The New Pacific Community, 54–55. 122. National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement, 2. 123. As quoted in Mark Landler, “Gore, in Malaysia, Says Its Leaders Suppress Freedom,” New York Times, November 17, 1998, https://www.nytimes. com/1998/11/17/world/gore-in-malaysia-says-its-leaders-suppressfreedom.html. 124. As quoted in James Mann, The Obamians: The Struggle inside the White House to Redefine American Power (New York: Penguin Books, 2013), 36. 125. Lind, “Democratization and Stability in East Asia.” 126. Gellman, “U.S. and China Nearly Came to Blows.” 127. Document 25, Telegram 003079 from U.S. Embassy Jakarta to State Department, “Skepticism about Investigation of Student Killings,” June

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Notes to Pages 102–106

2, 1998, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/ briefing-book/indonesia/2018-07-24/us-promoted-close-ties-indonesian-military-suhartos-rule-came-end-spring-1998; Document 28, Telegram 004329 from U.S. Embassy Jakarta to State Department, “Human Rights Commission Calls for Review of National Security Doctrine to Deal with Systemic Abuses,” August 12, 1998, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/dc.html?doc=4616961-Document28-Telegram-004329-from-US-Embassy. 128. See, e.g., Document 34, DIA Combined Information Report, “Comments (Redacted),” May 4, 1999, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/dc.html?doc=4616967-Document-34-DIACombined-Information-Report; Document 29, Telegram 004388 from U.S. Embassy Jakarta to State Department, “Government Releases More Political Prisoners,” August 19, 1998, Digital National Security Archive, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/dc.html?doc=4616962-Document29-Telegram-004388-from-US-Embassy. 129. Slobodian, Globalists; Chang, “Kicking Away the Ladder.”

Chapter Five.  The War on Terror versus Great-Power Competition   1. Paul Bowles, “Asia’s Post-crisis Regionalism: Bringing the State Back In, Keeping the (United) States Out,” Review of International Political Economy 9, no. 2 (2002): 244–70.   2. On ASEAN’s failure in the Asian financial crisis, see Ang Cheng Guan, Southeast Asia after the Cold War: A Contemporary History (Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2019), 44–77.   3. As quoted in Guan, Southeast Asia after the Cold War, 85.   4. Evan Feigenbaum and Robert Manning, “A Tale of Two Asias,” Foreign Policy, October 31, 2012, https://foreignpolicy.com/2012/10/31/a-taleof-two-asias/; Robert Manning, “The Asian Paradox: Toward a New Architecture,” World Policy Journal 10, no. 3 (1993): 55–64.   5. Justin Vaisse, Neoconservatism: The Biography of a Movement (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2010); Bill Kristol and Robert Kagan, “Toward a Neo-Reaganite Foreign Policy,” Foreign Affairs 75, no. 4 (1996): 18–32.   6. See, e.g., Condoleezza Rice, “Promoting the National Interest,” Foreign Affairs 79, no. 1 (2000): 45–62.   7. Thomas Lippman, “Bush Makes Clinton’s China Policy an Issue,” Washington Post, August 20, 1999, https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/ politics/campaigns/wh2000/stories/chiwan082099.htm.   8. James Lindsay, “George W. Bush, Barack Obama and the Future of U.S. Global Leadership,” International Affairs 87, no. 4 (2011): 766.

Notes to Pages 107–109

239

 9. Ironically, long-term Asian stability was the preeminent concern of at least some of the strategists in the Bush administration before 9/11. See “National Security Strategy Review,” memorandum from Zal Khalilzad to Donald Rumsfeld, January 2, 2001, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library.rumsfeld. com/doclib/sp/2763/2001-05-29%20to%20Steve%20Cambone%20re%20 Attachment.pdf#search=“allies%20asia”; “Some Thoughts on the 03/08/01 Draft,” memorandum from Donald Rumsfeld to Andy Marshall, March 12, 2001, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library.rumsfeld.com/doclib/sp/2380/200103-12%20To%20Andy%20Marshall%20re%20Some%20Thoughts%20 on%20the%2003-08-01%20Draft.pdf#search=“allies%20asia.” 10. “Some Illustrative New Approaches and Initiatives to Meet the 21st Century Challenges,” memorandum from Donald Rumsfeld to President George W. Bush, April 21, 2006, Rumsfeld Papers. 11. Rice, No Higher Honor; Donald Rumsfeld, Known and Unknown: A Memoir (New York: Penguin Group, 2011); George W. Bush, Decision Points (New York: Crown, 2010); Robert Gates, Duty: Memoirs of a Secretary at War (New York: Knopf, 2014); Dick Cheney and Liz Cheney, In My Time: A Personal and Political Memoir (New York: Threshold Editions, 2011); George Tenet, At the Center of the Storm (New York: HarperCollins, 2007). 12. The National Security Strategy of the United States of America (Washington, D.C.: White House, 2002), 30. 13. Jim Mitre, “A Eulogy for the Two-War Construct,” Washington Quarterly 41, no. 4 (2018): 7–30. 14. Barney Frank, “Why Obama Can—and Must—Cut Defense Spending,” The Atlantic, December 12, 2012, https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/ archive/2012/12/why-obama-can-and-must-cut-defense-spending/ 266138/. 15. Frank, “Why Obama Can.” 16. National Security Strategy, 15. 17. George W. Bush, “President Bush Delivers Graduation Speech at West Point,” Office of the Press Secretary press release, West Point, N.Y., June 1, 2002, https://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/news/ releases/2002/06/print/20020601-3.html. 18. As quoted in Mann, Rise of the Vulcans, 315. 19. “Strategic Thoughts,” memorandum from Donald Rumsfeld to President George W. Bush, September 30, 2001, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library. rumsfeld.com/doclib/sp/272/2001-09-30%20to%20President%20 Bush%20re%20Strategic%20Thoughts.pdf. 20. “Strategic Thoughts.” 21. The Union of Concerned Scientists issued a worrying rebuke of the 2002 NPR precisely for these reasons. See Stephen Young and Lisbeth Gronlund, “A Review of the 2002 Nuclear Posture Review,” Union of

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Concerned Scientists Working Paper, May 14, 2002, https://www.ucsusa. org/sites/default/files/2019-09/npr_review.pdf. 22. Stephen Van Evera, “The Cult of the Offensive and the Origins of the First World War,” International Security 9, no. 1 (1984): 58–107. 23. Andrew Marshall, “Competitive Strategies—History and Background,” unpublished paper, March 3, 1988. On Marshall’s influence with Rumsfeld, see Andrew Krepinevich and Barry Watts, The Last Warrior: Andrew Marshall and the Shaping of Modern American Defense Strategy (New York: Basic Books, 2015), 231–38. On his controversy, see Michael Desch, “Don’t Worship at the Altar of Andrew Marshall,” National Interest, December 17, 2014, https:// nationalinterest.org/feature/the-church-st-andy-11867. 24. See, e.g., “Perspective Paper,” memorandum from Andy Marshall to Donald Rumsfeld, October 4, 2002, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library.rumsfeld. com/doclib/sp/2562/2002-10-04%20from%20Andrew%20Marshall%20 re%20Perspective%20Paper.pdf#search=“competitive%20strategy.” 25. Asia-related critiques of Bush-era policy are pervasive. See especially T. J. Pempel, “How Bush Bungled Asia: Militarism, Economic Indifference and Unilateralism Have Weakened the United States across Asia,” Pacific Review 21, no. 5 (2008): 547–81; Mel Gurtov and Peter Van Ness, eds., Confronting the Bush Doctrine: Critical Views from the Asia-Pacific (Abingdon: Routledge, 2005); William Tow, “America’s Asia-Pacific Strategy Is Out of Kilter.” 26. See, e.g., “Actions,” memorandum from Donald Rumsfeld to Larry Di Rita, July 27, 2001, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library.rumsfeld.com/doclib/ sp/2380/2001-03-12%20To%20Andy%20Marshall%20re%20Some%20 Thoughts%20on%20the%2003-08-01%20Draft.pdf#search=“allies%20 asia.” 27. Dick Cheney said this to Bush in 2003. As quoted in John Nichols, “Gotta Sequester? Or Was Cheney Right That ‘Deficits Don’t Matter?’ ” The Nation, March 1, 2013, https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/ gotta-sequester-or-was-cheney-right-deficits-dont-matter/. 28. See, e.g., Philip Zelikow, “The Transformation of National Security,” National Interest 71, no. 1 (2003): 24–25. 29. Desmond Ball, Bill Robinson, and Richard Tanter, “Australia’s Participation in the Pine Gap Enterprise,” Nautilus Institute for Security and Sustainability Special Report, January 9, 2016, https://nautilus.org/ napsnet/napsnet-special-reports/australias-participation-in-the-pinegap-enterprise/. 30. See, e.g., the importance of Australia suggested in “Near Term Actions to Begin Shift of Focus towards Asia,” memorandum from Andy Marshall to Donald Rumsfeld, May 2, 2002, Rumsfeld Papers, http://library.rumsfeld. com/doclib/sp/2518/2002-05-02%20from%20Andy%20Marshall%20 re%20Near%20Term%20Actions%20to%20Begin%20Shift%20of%20 Focus%20Towards%20Asia.pdf#search=“allies%20asia.” 31. Michael Green, “The Iraq War and Asia: Assessing the Legacy,” Washington Quarterly 31, no. 2 (2008): 184.

Notes to Pages 111–115

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32. Daniel Sneider, “The New Asianism: Japanese Foreign Policy under the Democratic Party of Japan,” Asia Policy, no. 12 (2011): 109; Leif-Eric Easley, Tetsuo Kotani, and Aki Mori, “Electing a New Japanese Security Policy? Examining Foreign Policy Visions within the Democratic Party of Japan,” Asia Policy, no. 9 (2010): 49. 33. U.S. Pacific Command already had special operations forces providing military assistance to the Philippines before 9/11, to combat Abu Sayyaf, but assistance expanded massively after 9/11. See Maria Ryan, Full Spectrum Dominance: Irregular Warfare and the War on Terror (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2019), chap. 2. 34. Steven Rogers, “Beyond Abu Sayyaf: The Lessons of Failure in the Philippines,” Foreign Affairs 83, no. 1 (2004): 15–21. 35. Joseph Franco, “The Philippines: The Moro Islamic Liberation Front—a Pragmatic Power Structure?” chap. 7 in Impunity: Countering Illicit Power in War and Transition, ed. Michael Miklaucic and Michelle Hughes (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University Press, 2016), 170–89. 36. George W. Bush, “Remarks by the President to the Philippine Congress,” Manila, October 18, 2003, https://2001-2009.state.gov/p/eap/rls/ rm/2003/25455.htm. 37. Lee Jong-seok, Peace on a Knife’s Edge: The Inside Story of Roh Moo-hyun’s North Korea Policy (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford Shorenstein Asia Pacific Research Center, 2017); Lim Dong-won, Peacemaker: Twenty Years of Inter-Korean Relations and the North Korean Nuclear Issue (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford Shorenstein Asia Pacific Research Center, 2012). 38. Rice, No Higher Honor, 159, 537. 39. Mike Chinoy, Meltdown: The Inside Story of the North Korean Nuclear Crisis (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2008), 151. 40. Michael Mastanduno, “Hegemonic Order, September 11, and the Consequences of the Bush Revolution,” International Relations of the Asia-Pacific 5, no. 2 (2005), 177–96. 41. Felix Salmon, “How Goldman Sachs Facilitated the Heist of the Century,” Axios, September 12, 2018, https://www.axios.com/goldman-sachsbillion-dollar-whale-malaysia-9f6c10d1-85a7-4576-9f92-90c4c5498777. html. 42. See especially Mann, Rise of the Vulcans. “Cashing in” like this is not unusual in Washington, but it merits mentioning here because it is indicative of the economic liberal worldview that drove China policy. 43. As quoted in “Bush on China,” remarks at a Boeing Plant in Washington, Washington Post, May 17, 2000, https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/ world/foreignpolicy/bushchina.html. 44. National Security Strategy of the United States of America, 28. 45. Bush, “Graduation Speech at West Point.” 46. Henry Paulson, “A Strategic Economic Engagement: Strengthening U.S.-Chinese Ties,” Foreign Affairs 87, no. 5 (2008): 59. 47. Rice, No Higher Honor, 519.

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Notes to Pages 116–119

48. Mann, Rise of the Vulcans, 283–84. 49. On the responsible stakeholder standard, see Thomas Christensen, “Will China Become a Responsible Stakeholder? The Six Party Talks, Taiwan Arms Sales, and Sino-Japanese Relations,” China Leadership Monitor, no. 16 (2005), https://www.hoover.org/sites/default/files/uploads/documents/ clm16_tc.pdf. 50. National Security Strategy of the United States of America, v. 51. Bush, “Graduation Speech at West Point.” 52. Daniel Kliman, Fateful Transitions: How Democracies Manage Rising Powers, from the Eve of World War I to China’s Ascendance (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015), 102–3. 53. A2/AD and ONA’s role in its conceptualization are discussed peripherally in Jacqueline Newmyer, “The Revolution in Military Affairs with Chinese Characteristics,” Journal of Strategic Studies 33, no. 4 (2010): 483–504; Barry Watts, “The Implications of China’s Military and Civil Space Programs,” testimony before the U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission, May 11, 2011, https://www.files.ethz.ch/isn/154747/2011.05.11China-Military-and-Civil-Space-Programs.pdf. 54. Andrew Krepinevich, Barry Watts, and Robert Work, Meeting the Anti-access and Area-Denial Challenge (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, 2003). 55. Nina Silove, “The Pivot before the Pivot: U.S. Strategy to Preserve the Power Balance in Asia,” International Security 40, no. 4 (2016): 64–66. 56. Rory Medcalf, Indo-Pacific Empire: China, America, and the Contest for the World’s Pivotal Region (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2019), 92–102, 111–16. 57. As quoted in Silove, “The Pivot before the Pivot,” 63. 58. Rice, No Higher Honor, 163. 59. See, e.g., Van Jackson, Rival Reputations: Coercion and Credibility in US– North Korea Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 47–48. 60. Fravel, Active Defense, 182–216. 61. Richard Daniel Ewing, “Hu Jintao: The Making of a Chinese General Secretary,” China Quarterly, no. 173 (2003): 17–34. 62. As quoted in Richard McGregor, The Party: The Secret World of China’s Communist Rulers (New York: HarperCollins, 2010), 130. 63. Bonnie Glaser and Evan Medeiros, “The Changing Ecology of Foreign Policy-Making in China: The Ascension and Demise of the Theory of ‘Peaceful Rise,’ ” China Quarterly, no. 190 (2007): 291–310. 64. David Shambaugh, “China Engages Asia: Reshaping the Regional Order,” International Security 29, no. 3 (2004–5): 90–91. 65. The most authoritative history of China’s strategic diplomacy in this era remains Joshua Kurlantzick, Charm Offensive: How China’s Soft Power Is Transforming the World (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2007). 66. Shambaugh, “China Engages Asia.”

Notes to Pages 119–123

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67. Thus China’s global exports increased by an annual average of 27.3 percent from 2002 (the year after WTO accession) to 2008. See Yao Yang, “China’s Economic Growth in Retrospect,” in China 2049: Economic Challenges of a Rising Global Power, ed. David Dollar, Yiping Huang, and Yang Yao (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2020), 19. 68. Matthew Klein and Michael Pettis, Trade Wars Are Class Wars: How Rising Inequality Distorts the Global Economy and Threatens International Peace (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2020), 27–30. 69. Rice, No Higher Honor, 646–47. 70. Brendan Taylor, “The Bush Administration and Asia Pacific Multilateralism: Unrequited Love?” Australian Journal of International Affairs 62, no. 1 (2008): 1–15. 71. Taylor, “Bush Administration,” 9. 72. As quoted in Taylor, 4. 73. See, e.g., Stephan Haggard and Marcus Noland, “A Security and Peace Mechanism for Northeast Asia: The Economic Dimension,” Pacific Review 22, no. 2 (2009): 119–37. 74. “Some Illustrative New Approaches.” 75. Yoichi Funabashi, “Keeping Up with Asia: America and the New Balance of Power,” Foreign Affairs 87, no. 5 (2008). 76. Funabashi, “Keeping Up with Asia,” 112. 77. As quoted in Tim Shorrock, “U.S. Losing Clout in South-East Asia to China,” Inter Press Service, December 8, 2005, http://www.ipsnews. net/2005/12/politics-us-losing-clout-in-south-east-asia-to-china/. 78. Cha, Powerplay, 207–8. 79. As quoted in Guan, Southeast Asia after the Cold War, 107. 80. The Agreed Framework required North Korea to suspend plutoniumbased nuclear activity, but North Korea had been working on a clandestine uranium-based pathway to the bomb. See Jackson, “Threat Consensus and Rapprochement Failure.” 81. Rice, No Higher Honor, 160–61. 82. Remarks by Michael Green, transcript from the Carnegie International Nonproliferation Conference, Washington, D.C., June 25, 2007, https:// carnegieendowment.org/files/six_party_talks.pdf. 83. Green, By More than Providence, 503–5. 84. On the history of TCOG’s value, see James Schoff, Tools for Trilateralism: Improving U.S.-Japan-Korea Cooperation to Manage Complex Contingencies (Dulles, Va.: Potomac Books, 2005). On the tensions arising from its absence, see Scott Snyder, “Is It Time for the U.S.-Japan–South Korea Virtual Alliance to Get Real?” Asia Unbound, January 17, 2012, https://www. cfr.org/blog/it-time-us-japan-south-korea-virtual-alliance-get-real. 85. Rumsfeld wrote in 2006 that “we need to seek ways for the U.S. to be included in more of the key Asian security organizations, or even to consider fashioning a new organization.” NEAPSM was the closest the Bush administration ever got to acting on this. See “Some Illustrative New Approaches.”

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Notes to Pages 123–127

 86. Mark Manyin, Michael John Garcia, and Wayne Morrison, U.S. Accession to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’ Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 2009), 2.  87. Mark Beeson, “American Hegemony and Regionalism: The Rise of East Asia and the End of the Asia-Pacific,” Geopolitics 11, no. 4 (2006): 541–60.  88. Evelyn Goh, “The ASEAN Regional Forum in United States East Asian Strategy,” Pacific Review 17, no. 1 (2004): 48.  89. Seiji Naya and Michael Plummer, The Economics of the Enterprise for ASEAN Initiative (Singapore: Institute for Southeast Asian Studies, 2005).  90. As quoted in “APEC Has Run Out of Steam, Says New Zealand,” Financial Times, June 30, 2000.  91. Yeo, Asia’s Regional Architecture, 134–41.  92. The Asianization of Asian regionalism is discussed in Beeson, “American Hegemony and Regionalism”; Pempel, “How Bush Bungled Asia.”  93. Lay Hwee Yeo, Asia and Europe: The Development and Different Dimensions of ASEM (Abingdon: Routledge, 2004), 159, 176.  94. See Glaser and Medeiros, “Changing Ecology,” 294–96.  95. Sebastian Strangio, In the Dragon’s Shadow: Southeast Asia in the Chinese Century (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2020), 19.  96. As Yoichi Funabashi asserted in 2008, “The prospect that either China or Japan might gain a predominant position is disconcerting for the rest of Asia. . . . The United States thus has a vital role to play as a counterbalance to an assertive China and an independent Japan.” Funabashi, “Keeping Up with Asia,” 113.  97. “Full Text: Bush’s National Security Strategy,” New York Times, September 20, 2002, https://www.nytimes.com/2002/09/20/politics/full-textbushs-national-security-strategy.html.  98. Jonathan Monten, “The Roots of the Bush Doctrine: Power, Nationalism, and Democracy Promotion in U.S. Strategy,” International Security 29, no. 4 (2005): 112–56.  99. Jurgen Haacke, “The United States and Myanmar: From Antagonists to Security Partners?” Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 34, no. 2 (2015): 55–83. 100. Rice, No Higher Honor, 585–86. 101. Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, “Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Burma,” U.S. Department of State, updated March 11, 2008, https://2009-2017.state.gov/j/drl/rls/hrrpt/2007/100515. htm. 102. Rice, No Higher Honor, 646. 103. The three-evils formulation predated 9/11, but China used the new legitimacy of terrorism-as-threat to redesignate various crimes as terrorism. See Murray Scot Tanner and James Bellacqua, China’s Response to Terrorism (Alexandria, Va.: CNA, 2016). 104. Rice, No Higher Honor, 533–34.

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105. Rice, 525. 106. “Strategic Thoughts,” memorandum from Donald Rumsfeld to President George W. Bush, September 30, 2001. 107. “Strategic Thoughts.” 108. Mark Thompson, “Pacific Asia after ‘Asian Values’: Authoritarianism, Democracy, and ‘Good Governance,’ ” Third World Quarterly 25, no. 6 (2004): 1086. On the tendency of Southeast Asian governments in particular to decouple electoral democracy and good governance, see especially Donald Emmerson, “Minding the Gap between Democracy and Governance,” Journal of Democracy 23, no. 2 (2012): 62–73. 109. The comparison of Thailand and the Philippines discussed in this section derives mostly from Thompson, “Pacific Asia after ‘Asian Values’ ”; Mark Thompson, “People Power Sours: Uncivil Society in Thailand and the Philippines,” Current History 107, no. 712 (2008): 381–87; Antoinette Raquiza, State Structure, Policy Formation, and Economic Development in Southeast Asia: The Political Economy of Thailand and the Philippines (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013). 110. Thompson, “People Power Sours: Uncivil Society in Thailand and the Philippines,” 385. 111. “Bush Designates Thailand as New ‘Deputy,’ ” ABC News, December 31, 2003, https://www.abc.net.au/news/2003-12-31/bush-designatesthailand-as-new-deputy/113092. 112. Jessica Schulberg, “The Military Coup in Thailand Is Putting the U.S. in an Awkward Position,” New Republic, May 24, 2014, https://newrepublic.com/article/117894/thailand-coup-foreign-assistance-act-put-usawkward-position. 113. Funabashi, Keeping Up with Asia, 118.

Chapter Six.  Pivoting in Posthegemony Asia   1. Adam Tooze, Crashed: How a Decade of Financial Crises Changed the World (London: Allen Lane, 2018).   2. Deborah Lucas, “Measuring the Cost of Bailouts,” Annual Review of Financial Economics 11 (2019): 85–108.   3. On Chinese perceptions of U.S. decline starting in 2008, see Randall Schweller, “After Unipolarity: China’s Visions of International Order in an Era of U.S. Decline,” International Security 36, no. 1 (2011): 41–72; John Pomfret, The Beautiful Country and the Middle Kingdom: America and China, 1776 to the Present (New York: Henry Holt, 2016), 599; McGregor, The Party, x–xvii; Elizabeth Economy, The Third Revolution: Xi Jinping and the New Chinese State (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018), 188–91.   4. Wu Xinbo, “Understanding the Geopolitical Implications of the Global Financial Crisis,” Washington Quarterly 33, no. 4 (2010): 155.

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 5. As quoted in Mann, The Obamians, 72.  6. “President Obama’s Asia Policy and Upcoming Trip to Asia,” remarks by National Security Adviser Tom Donilon, Washington, D.C., November 15, 2012, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2012/11/15/ remarks-national-security-advisor-tom-donilon-prepared-delivery.  7. Kurt Campbell, The Pivot: The Future of American Statecraft in Asia (New York: Twelve Books, 2016), 7.  8. Barack Obama, The Promised Land (New York: Viking Press, 2020), 476–77.  9. Hillary Clinton, “America’s Pacific Century,” Foreign Policy, October 11, 2011, https://foreignpolicy.com/2011/10/11/americas-pacific-century/. 10. Sustaining U.S. Global Leadership: Priorities for 21st Century Defense (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Defense, 2012), 2. 11. See, e.g., “A New Global Posture for a New Era,” remarks delivered by Deputy Secretary of Defense Robert Work, Washington, D.C., September 30, 2014, https://www.defense.gov/Newsroom/Speeches/Speech/ Article/605614/a-new-global-posture-for-a-new-era/. 12. See, e.g., Rapp-Hooper, Shields of the Republic; Cha, Powerplay. 13. According to two former Department of Defense officials responsible for Asia policy, the primary value of multilateral engagement was its role as a “clearinghouse” to hold “sideline” bilateral meetings with allies and partners. Interviews conducted January 10, 2018, and February 9, 2018, respectively. 14. On America’s role in buffering Japan–South Korea friction under Obama, see Jackson, “Buffers, Not Bridges.” 15. Interview with Department of Defense official, February 9, 2018. 16. “A New Global Posture for a New Era.” 17. “A New Global Posture for a New Era.” 18. The Darwin Agreement was widely seen as an enhancement of the U.S.Australia alliance. See Brendan Taylor, “Australia Responds to America’s Rebalance,” in The New U.S. Strategy towards Asia: Adapting to the American Pivot, ed. William Tow and Douglas Stuart (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015), 157–67. 19. Government of the Philippines, “Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement between the Philippines and the United States,” Official Gazette, April 29, 2014, https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/2014/04/29/document-enhanced-defense-cooperation-agreement/. 20. Van Jackson, “The Rebalance, Entrapment Fear, and Collapsism: The Origins of Obama’s North Korea Policy,” Asian Perspective 43, no. 4 (2019): 593–619. 21. This history is recounted in Van Jackson, “Does Nuclearization Impact Threat Credibility? Insights from the Korean Peninsula,” in North Korea and Nuclear Weapons: Entering the New Era of Deterrence, ed. Sung-Chull Kim and Michael Cohen (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2017), 89–112.

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22. See Ian Bower and Henrik Stalhane Hiim, “Conventional Counterforce Dilemmas: South Korea’s Deterrence Strategy and Stability on the Korean Peninsula,” International Security 45, no. 3 (2020–21): 7–39. 23. Jackson, “Rebalance, Abandonment Fear, and Collapsism.” 24. Sebastian Strangio, In the Dragon’s Shadow: Southeast Asia in the Chinese Century (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2020), 80–82. 25. The history as summarized here can be found in Conor Kennedy and Andrew Erickson, “China Maritime Report No. 1: China’s Third Sea Force, the People’s Armed Forces Maritime Militia, Tethered to the People’s Liberation Army,” in CMSI China Maritime Reports (Newport: U.S. Naval War College, 2017); Ely Ratner, “Learning the Lessons of Scarborough Reef,” National Interest, November 21, 2013, https://nationalinterest.org/commentary/learning-the-lessons-scarborough-reef-9442; Renato Cruz De Castro, “Facing Up to China’s Realpolitik Approach in the South China Sea Dispute: The Case of the 2012 Scarborough Shoal Stand-Off and Its Aftermath,” Journal of Asian Security and International Affairs 3, no. 2 (2016): 157–82. 26. Chinese economic coercion typically has the unusual characteristic of deniability and ambiguity. See Christina Lai, “Acting One Way and Talking Another: China’s Coercive Economic Diplomacy in East Asia and Beyond,” Pacific Review 31, no. 2 (2018): 169–87. 27. Ratner, “Learning the Lessons of Scarborough Reef.” 28. Ratner, “Learning the Lessons of Scarborough Reef.” On how the socalled gray zone concerns the South China Sea, see Van Jackson, “Tactics of Strategic Competition: Gray Zones, Red Lines, and Conflicts before War,” Naval War College Review 70, no. 3 (2017): 39–61. 29. Remarks by President Obama to the Australian Parliament, Canberra, Australia, November 17, 2011, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/ the-press-office/2011/11/17/remarks-president-obama-australian-parliament. 30. Obama, The Promised Land, 311. 31. Mann, The Obamians, 26–27, 47–55. 32. Frank, “Why Obama Can.” 33. Progressive Internationalism: A Democratic National Security Strategy (Washington, D.C.: Progressive Policy Institute, 2003). 34. “President Obama’s Asia Policy and Upcoming Trip to Asia,” https:// obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2012/11/15/remarks-national-security-advisor-tom-donilon-prepared-delivery. 35. Michael Mazarr, “The Risks of Ignoring Strategic Insolvency,” Washington Quarterly 35, no. 4 (2012): 7–22. 36. Gates, Duty, 528. 37. On A2/AD as an operational concept, not a strategy, see M. Taylor Fravel and Christopher Twomey, “Projecting Strategy: The Myth of Chinese Counter-intervention,” Washington Quarterly 37, no. 4 (2015): 171–87.

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Notes to Pages 139–143

38. Sydney Freedberg Jr., “US ‘Gets Its Ass Handed to It’ in War Games: Here’s a $24 Billion Fix,” Breaking Defense, March 7, 2019, https:// breakingdefense.com/2019/03/us-gets-its-ass-handed-to-it-in-wargamesheres-a-24-billion-fix/. 39. Sustaining U.S. Global Leadership: Priorities for 21st Century Defense (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Defense, 2012). 40. Ash Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box: Lessons from a Lifetime of Leadership in the Pentagon (New York: Penguin Random House, 2020), 264. 41. Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 266. 42. On the third offset strategy, see “Remarks by Deputy Secretary Work on Third Offset Strategy,” Brussels, Belgium, April 28, 2016, https://www. defense.gov/Newsroom/Speeches/Speech/Article/753482/remarks-byd%20eputy-secretary-work-on-third-offset-strategy/. 43. See Jackson, On the Brink, 73–81; Jackson, “Rebalance, Entrapment Fear, and Collapsism.” 44. Interview with Department of Defense official, January 10, 2018. 45. As quoted in Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 277–78. 46. One source called it a “strategic communications” tool aimed at China. Sam LaGrone, “Little Known Pentagon Office Key to U.S. Military Competition with China, Russia,” USNI News, February 2, 2016, https:// news.usni.org/2016/02/02/little-known-pentagon-office-key-to-u-s-military-competition-with-china-russia. 47. Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 325–26. 48. LaGrone, “Little Known Pentagon Office.” 49. Fiona Cunningham and M. Taylor Fravel, “Assuring Assured Retaliation: China’s Nuclear Posture and US-China Strategic Stability,” International Security 40, no. 2 (2015): 7–50. 50. Elias Glenn and Sue-Lin Wong, “China Posts Worst Export Fall since 2009 as Fears of U.S. Trade War Loom,” Reuters, January 13, 2017, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-economy-trade/china-postsworst-export-fall-since-2009-as-fears-of-u-s-trade-war-loom-idUSKBN14X0FD. 51. Joseph Nye Jr., “American and Chinese Power after the Financial Crisis,” Washington Quarterly 33, no. 4 (2010): 148. 52. Obama, The Promised Land, 474–75. 53. Remarks by the President at the U.S./China Strategic and Economic Dialogue, Washington, D.C., July 27, 2009, https://obamawhitehouse.archives. gov/realitycheck/the-press-office/remarks-president-uschina-strategicand-economic-dialogue. 54. Tooze, Crashed, 157–60; Klein and Pettis, Trade Wars Are Class Wars, 221– 26. 55. Tooze, Crashed, 9–12. 56. Tooze, Crashed, 239–54; see also McGregor, The Party, xv. 57. Tooze, Crashed, 241–43.

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58. Yu Yongding, “China’s Policy Responses to the Global Financial Crisis,” Richard Snape Lecture, Melbourne, Australia, November 25, 2009, https:// www.pc.gov.au/news-media/lectures/yongding/2009-yongding.pdf, 1. 59. Donghyun Park, Arief Ramayandi, and Kwanho Shin, “Why Did Asian Countries Fare Better during the Global Financial Crisis than during the Asian Financial Crisis?” in Responding to Financial Crisis: Lessons from Asia Then, the United States and Europe Now, ed. Changyong Rhee and Adam Posen (New York: Columbia University Press, 2013), 104. 60. Wu, “Understanding the Geopolitical Implications,” 160–61. 61. Park, Ramayandi, and Shin, “Why Did Asian Countries Fare Better,” 103–39. 62. Calculated from Asian Development Bank, Asia Regional Integration Center Integration Indicators Database, https://aric.adb.org/integrationindicators. 63. Richard Bush III, Difficult Choices: Taiwan’s Quest for Security and the Good Life (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2021), 64. 64. Clinton, remarks to the Seattle APEC Host Committee. 65. Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 285. 66. John Kerry and Ashton Carter, “Congress Needs to Help American Trade Grow,” USA Today, June 8, 2015, https://www.usatoday.com/story/ opinion/2015/06/08/tpp-tpa-trade-democrats-vote-house-obama-column/28566641/. 67. “Remarks by the President on Trade,” Beaverton, Oreg., May 8, 2015, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2015/05/08/remarks-president-trade. 68. Evan Feigenbaum, “Meeting the Challenge in China,” National Interest, December 22, 2020, https://nationalinterest.org/feature/meeting-challenge-asia-174917. 69. Campbell, The Pivot, 192. 70. On the antiglobalization debate that produced these circumstances, see Dani Rodrik, The Globalization Paradox: Democracy and the Future of the World Economy (New York: W. W. Norton, 2012); Joseph Stiglitz, Globalization and Its Discontents Revisited: Anti-globalization in the Era of Trump (New York: W. W. Norton, 2017). 71. Federica Cocco, “Most US Manufacturing Jobs Lost to Technology, Not Trade,” Financial Times, December 3, 2016, https://www.ft.com/content/ dec677c0-b7e6-11e6-ba85-95d1533d9a62. 72. Obama, The Promised Land, 338. 73. Michael O’Hanlon and James Steinberg, Strategic Reassurance and Resolve: U.S.-China Relations in the 21st Century (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2014). 74. “U.S.-China Joint Statement, Beijing, China, November 17, 2009, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/realitycheck/the-press-office/uschina-joint-statement.

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Notes to Pages 148–150

 75. John Pomfret, “Beijing Claims ‘Indisputable Sovereignty’ over South China Sea,” Washington Post, July 31, 2010, https://www.washingtonpost. com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/07/30/AR2010073005664.html; Gates, Duty, 419; Mann, The Obamians, 243–46.  76. On how spheres of influence function, see Van Jackson, “Understanding Spheres of Influence in International Politics,” European Journal of International Security 5, no. 3 (2020): 255–73.  77. Remarks by President Obama and President Xi Jinping of the People’s Republic of China after Bilateral Meeting, Rancho Mirage, Calif., June 8, 2013, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2013/06/08/ remarks-president-obama-and-president-xi-jinping-peoples-republicchina-.  78. “America’s Future in Asia,” remarks by Susan E. Rice, Washington, D.C., November 20, 2013, USC US-China Institute, https://china.usc.edu/susan-e-rice-americas-future-asia-november-20-2013.  79. See, e.g., Jackson, “Understanding Spheres of Influence,” 256.  80. Economy, The Third Revolution, 188–91.  81. Campbell, The Pivot, 31.  82. Andrew Chubb, “PRC Assertiveness in the South China Sea: Measuring Continuity and Change, 1970–2015,” International Security 45, no. 3 (2020–21): 79–121.  83. Wang Xu and Xin Zhiming, “Hu Urges Revamp of Finance System,” People’s Daily, November 17, 2008, http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/ china/2008-11/17/content_7208992.htm.  84. Wu, “Understanding the Geopolitical Implications,” 157.  85. Oriana Skyler Mastro, “Signaling and Provocation in Chinese National Security Strategy: A Closer Look at the Impeccable Incident,” Journal of Strategic Studies 34, no. 2 (2011): 219–44.  86. Gates, Duty, 414.  87. As quoted in John Pomfret, “U.S. Takes a Tougher Tone with China,” Washington Post, July 30, 2010, https://www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/article/2010/07/29/AR2010072906416.html.  88. Trends in Chinese Government and Other Vessels in the Waters Surrounding the Senkaku Islands, and Japan’s Response (Tokyo: Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, 2020), https://www.mofa.go.jp/region/page23e_000021. html.  89. Michael Green, Kathleen Hicks, Zack Cooper, John Schaus, and Jake Douglas, “Counter-coercion Series: East China Sea Air Defense Identification Zone,” CSIS Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative, June 13, 2017, https://amti.csis.org/counter-co-east-china-sea-adiz/.  90. Green et al., “Counter-coercion Series.”  91. Ankit Panda, “It’s Official: Xi Jinping Breaks His Non-militarization Pledge in the Spratlys,” The Diplomat, December 16, 2016, https:// thediplomat.com/2016/12/its-official-xi-jinping-breaks-his-non-

Notes to Pages 150–151

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militarization-pledge-in-the-spratlys/; Hannah Beech, “China’s Sea Control Is a Done Deal, ‘Short of War with the U.S.,’ ” New York Times, September 20, 2018, https://www.nytimes.com/2018/09/20/world/asia/ south-china-sea-navy.html.  92. The most thorough attempt to debunk the Chinese assertiveness narrative was Alastair Iain Johnston, “How New and Assertive Is China’s New Assertiveness?” International Security 37, no. 4 (2013): 7–48.  93. See, e.g., Michael D. Swaine, “Chinese Views regarding the Senkaku/ Diaoyu Islands Dispute,” China Leadership Monitor, no. 41 (2013), https://carnegieendowment.org/files/CLM41MS.pdf.  94. In a 2014 survey of policy elites across Asia, fewer than 20 percent expressed the view that China’s impact on regional security was positive, in contrast with 83 percent of Chinese respondents. See Michael Green and Nicholas Szechenyi, Power and Order in Asia: A Survey of Regional Expectations (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2014), https://www.csis.org/analysis/power-and-order-asia.  95. Zach Dorfman, “China Used Stolen Data to Expose CIA Operatives in Africa and Europe,” Foreign Policy, December 21, 2020, https:// foreignpolicy.com/2020/12/21/china-stolen-us-data-exposed-cia-operativesspy-networks/.  96. Dorfman, “China Used Stolen Data.”  97. Robert Gates highlighted in his memoir the PLA’s frequent calls for suspending SRO missions in the name of “core interests.” See Gates, Duty, 526.  98. “The Threat Posed by the Chinese Government and the Chinese Communist Party to the Economic and National Security of the United States,” remarks by Christopher Wray, July 7, 2020, Washington, D.C., https://www.fbi.gov/news/speeches/the-threat-posed-by-the-chinesegovernment-and-the-chinese-communist-party-to-the-economic-andnational-security-of-the-united-states.  99. “Communique on the Current State of the Ideological Sphere,” notice from the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China’s General Office, April 22, 2013, https://www.chinafile.com/document-9-chinafile-translation. 100. Economy, The Third Revolution, 188–91. 101. See, e.g., “New Asian Security Concept for New Progress in Security Cooperation,” Xi Jin Ping’s remarks at the Fourth Summit of the Conference on Interaction and Confidence Building Measures in Asia, May 21, 2014, https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1159951.shtml. 102. China Council for International Cooperation on Environment and Development, “Important Speech of Xi Jinping at Peripheral Diplomacy Work Conference,” October 30, 2013, http://www.cciced.net/cciceden/ NEWSCENTER/LatestEnvironmentalandDevelopmentNews/201310/ t20131030_82626.html.

252

Notes to Pages 151–154

103. Feng Zhongping and Huang Jing, “China’s Strategic Partnership Diplomacy: Engaging with a Changing World,” European Strategic Partnerships Observatory, Working Paper no. 8, June 2014; Jeffrey Reeves, Chinese Foreign Relations with Weak Peripheral States: Asymmetrical Economic Power and Insecurity (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015). 104. Michael D. Swaine, “Chinese Views and Commentary on Peripheral Diplomacy,” China Leadership Monitor, no. 44 (2014), https://carnegieendowment.org/files/clm44ms.pdf. 105. Feng and Huang, “China’s Strategic Partnership Diplomacy.” See also Jacob Stokes, China’s Peripheral Diplomacy: Implications for Peace and Security in Asia (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, 2020). 106. William Callahan, “China’s ‘Asia Dream’: The Belt Road Initiative and the New Regional Order,” Asian Journal of Comparative Politics 1, no. 3 (2016): 226–43; Economy, The Third Revolution, 186–230. 107. Daniel Drezner, “Anatomy of a Whole-of-Government Foreign Policy Failure,” Washington Post, March 28, 2015, https://www.washingtonpost. com/posteverything/wp/2015/03/27/anatomy-of-a-whole-of-government-foreign-policy-failure/. 108. Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 282–83. 109. Interview with Obama administration official, February 28, 2018. 110. Interview with Obama administration official. 111. David Larter, “White House Tells the Pentagon to Quit Talking about ‘Competition’ with China,” Navy Times, September 26, 2016, https:// www.navytimes.com/news/your-navy/2016/09/26/white-house-tellsthe-pentagon-to-quit-talking-about-competition-with-china/. 112. Carter, Inside the Five-Sided Box, 280. 113. Interview with Department of Defense official, January 10, 2018. 114. For a representative sample of the bipartisan China competition research of this era, see Alexander Sullivan and Patrick Cronin, Preserving the Rules: Countering Coercion in Maritime Asia (Washington, D.C.: Center for a New American Security, 2015); Alexander Sullivan, Andrew Erickson, Elbridge Colby, Ely Ratner, and Zachary Hosford, More Willing and Able: Charting China’s International Security Activism (Washington, D.C.: Center for a New American Security, 2015). 115. Robert Ross, “The Problem with the Pivot,” Foreign Affairs 91, no. 6 (2016): 81. 116. Michael D. Swaine, “Chinese Leadership and Elite Responses to the U.S. Pacific Pivot,” China Leadership Monitor, July 17, 2012, https://www. hoover.org/sites/default/files/uploads/documents/CLM38MS.pdf. 117. M. Taylor Fravel, “The PLA and National Security Decisionmaking: Insights from China’s Territorial and Maritime Disputes,” in The PLA’s Role in National Security Policy-Making, ed. Phillip Saunders and Andrew Scobell (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2015); M. Taylor Fravel, “Mike Pompeo Criticized China for Not Respecting Its Neigh-

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bors’ Territorial Integrity. What’s the Story?” Washington Post, February 22, 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2020/02/21/mikepompeo-criticized-china-not-respecting-its-neighbors-territorial-integrity-whats-story/. 118. Alice Ba, “Who’s Socializing Whom? Complex Engagement in SinoASEAN Relations,” Pacific Review 19, no. 2 (2006): 157–79. 119. The G-2 “moment” is most represented in popular references to “Chimerica.” See Niall Ferguson and Xiang Xu, “Making Chimerica Great Again,” International Finance 21, no. 3 (2018): 239–52. 120. Obama’s Pentagon signed multiple protocols under the Military Maritime Consultative Agreement in 2014 and 2015. For their rationale, see Rush Doshi, “Improving Risk Reduction and Crisis Management in US-China Relations,” in The Future of U.S. Policy toward China: Recommendations for the Biden Administration, ed. Ryan Hass, Ryan McElveen, and Robert Williams (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2020), https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/RushDoshi.pdf. 121. Mann, The Obamians, 179–80. 122. The administration made no secret that liberal ordering was a way of preventing China from “writing the rules” for the region. On the intrinsically exclusionary nature of great-power order building, see Kyle Lascurettes, Orders of Exclusion: Great Powers and the Strategic Sources of Foundational Rules in International Relations (New York: Oxford University Press, 2020). 123. Van Jackson, “Red Teaming the Rebalance: The Theory and Risks of US Asia Strategy,” Journal of Strategic Studies 39, no. 3 (2016): 365–88. 124. President Barack Obama’s Inaugural Address, Washington, D.C., January 21, 2009, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/blog/2009/01/21/ president-barack-obamas-inaugural-address. 125. “Remarks by President Obama in Address to the United Nations General Assembly,” New York, September 24, 2013, https://obamawhitehouse. archives.gov/the-press-office/2013/09/24/remarks-president-obamaaddress-united-nations-general-assembly. 126. “President Obama’s Asia Policy and Upcoming Trip to Asia.” 127. Hillary Rodham Clinton, “Remarks on Regional Architecture in Asia: Principles and Priorities,” Honolulu, Hawaii, January 12, 2010, https://2009-2017.state.gov/secretary/20092013clinton/rm/2010/01/ 135090.htm. 128. As quoted in Mann, The Obamians, 72. 129. Ratner, “Learning the Lessons of Scarborough Reef.” 130. Joseph Chinyong Liow, Ambivalent Engagement: The United States and Southeast Asia in Regional Security after the Cold War (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2017), 145. 131. Clinton, “Remarks on Regional Architecture in Asia.”

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Notes to Pages 157–160

132. Bradley Hope and Tom Wright, Billion Dollar Whale: The Man Who Fooled Wall Street, Hollywood, and the World (New York: Hachette Books, 2018). 133. The aim was to use engagement to subtly counterbalance China. See Thi Bich Tran and Yoichiro Sato, “Vietnam’s Post–Cold War Hedging Strategy: A Changing Mix of Realist and Liberal Ingredients,” Asian Politics and Policy 10, no. 1 (2018): 73–99. 134. Betsy Blumenthal, “When Obama Met Bourdain in Vietnam: Recap of ‘Parts Unknown,’ ” Conde Nast Traveler, September 26, 2016, https:// www.cntraveler.com/story/when-obama-met-bourdain-in-vietnam-recap-of-parts-unknown. 135. Annie Lowrey, “U.S. Sanctions on Myanmar Formally Eased,” New York Times, July 11, 2012, https://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/12/world/asia/ us-sanctions-on-myanmar-formally-eased.html. 136. Nahal Toosi, “The Genocide the U.S. Didn’t See Coming,” Politico Magazine, March–April 2018, https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2018/ 03/04/obama-rohingya-genocide-myanmar-burma-muslim-syukii-217214. 137. “U.S. Urges Allies to Think Twice before Joining China-Led Bank,” Reuters, March 17, 2015, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-europe-asiabank/u-s-urges-allies-to-think-twice-before-joining-china-led-bankidUSKBN0MD0B320150317. 138. See, e.g., “Remarks by the President on Trade,” Beaverton, Oreg., May 8, 2015, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2015/ 05/08/remarks-president-trade. 139. Alice Ba, “Regional Security in East Asia: ASEAN’s Value-Added and Limitations,” Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 29, no. 3 (2010): 124; Andrew Yeo, “China-Japan-Korea Trilateral Cooperation: Is It for Real?” Georgetown Journal of International Affairs 18, no. 2 (2017): 69–76. 140. “President Obama’s Asia Policy and Upcoming Trip to Asia.” 141. For a critique of EAS as an American hegemonic project, see David Camroux, “Regionalism in Asia as Disguised Multilateralism: A Critical Analysis of the East Asia Summit and the Trans-Pacific Partnership,” International Spectator 47, no. 1 (2012): 97–115. 142. Hayton, The South China Sea, 195–97; Ernest Bower, “China Reveals Its Hand on ASEAN in Phnom Penh,” CSIS Commentary, July 20, 2012, https://www.csis.org/analysis/china-reveals-its-hand-asean-phnompenh. 143. “ASEAN Deadlocked on South China Sea, Cambodia Blocks Statement,” Reuters, July 25, 2016, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-southchinasea-ruling-asean/asean-deadlocked-on-south-china-sea-cambodiablocks-statement-idUSKCN1050F6. 144. Strangio, In the Dragon’s Shadow, 85–116.

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145. “Malaysia: New Law Gives Government Sweeping Powers,” Human Rights Watch, August 2, 2016, https://www.hrw.org/news/2016/08/02/ malaysia-new-law-gives-government-sweeping-powers. 146. Toosi, “The Genocide the U.S. Didn’t See Coming.” 147. Guy De Launey, “Thailand ‘Admits Cluster Bombs Used against Cambodia,’ ” BBC, April 6, 2011, https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-pacific-12983127. 148. For this interpretation, see Aarie Glas, “Habits of Peace: Long-Term Regional Cooperation in Southeast Asia,” European Journal of International Relations 23, no. 4 (2017): 833–56. 149. “Thai-Cambodia Dispute Moves to ASEAN,” CNN.com, July 22, 2008, http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/07/22/thailand.cambodia/ index.html. ASEAN reluctantly helped facilitate a resolution of the Thai-Cambodia dispute. Cambodia saw ASEAN as disappointingly feckless thereafter, which helps explain its deference to China since 2012. See Strangio, In the Dragon’s Shadow, 94–95.

Chapter Seven.  The Risk-Wager Imbalance of the Trump Era   1. Some sought to sharpen the choice between China and the United States, while others sought to eschew it. For the former, see Hugh White, The China Choice: Why We Should Share Power (Melbourne: Black Inc. Books, 2012). For the latter, see Robert Ayson, “Choosing Ahead of Time? Australia, New Zealand, and the US-China Contest in Asia,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 34, no. 3 (2012): 338–64.   2. China concluded its first FTA with New Zealand in 2008, with ASEAN in 2010, and with Australia in 2015. It continued to negotiate a trilateral FTA with Japan and South Korea throughout the Obama and Trump eras.   3. In 2016, 80 percent of Japanese polled worried about Chinese aggression in the Senkakus, while a survey of Southeast Asian policy experts in 2017 found that more than 70 percent had little to no confidence in China. See Jesse Johnson, “80% of Japanese Fear Military Clash around Senkakus, Poll Finds,” Japan Times, September 14, 2016, https://www. japantimes.co.jp/news/2016/09/14/national/pew-poll-finds-80-japanesefear-possible-clash-china-senkakus/; Faris Mokhtar, “China Is Most Influential in Southeast Asia, But Has Little Trust: ISEAS Survey,” Today Online, January 7, 2019, https://www.todayonline.com/singapore/chinamost-influential-southeast-asia-has-little-trust-iseas-survey.   4. On sultanistic styles of rule, see especially Juan Linz, Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2000). On factors that made Trump prone to high personalization in leadership, see Daniel Drezner, “Immature Leadership: Donald Trump and the American Presidency,” International Affairs 92, no. 2 (2020): 383–400.

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 5. Jeff Stein and Aaron Gregg, “U.S. Military Spending Set to Increase for Fifth Consecutive Year, Nearing Levels during Height of Iraq War,” Washington Post, April 19, 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/uspolicy/2019/04/18/us-military-spending-set-increase-fifth-consecutiveyear-nearing-levels-during-height-iraq-war/; Lawrence Korb, “Trump’s Defense Budget,” Center for American Progress statement, February 28, 2018, https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/security/news/2018/02/ 28/447248/trumps-defense-budget/.  6. Stein and Gregg, “U.S. Military Spending.”  7. Even the Trump-aligned Heritage Foundation worried that financing the military with deficit spending was unwise. “Heritage Experts Analyze President Trump’s FY 2019 Budget Proposal,” Heritage Foundation press release, February 12, 2018, https://www.heritage.org/press/heritage-expertsanalyze-president-trumps-fy-2019-budget-proposal.  8. Summary of the 2018 National Defense Strategy of the United States of America (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Defense, 2018), 1.  9. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” declassified National Security Council paper, n.d. 10. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific.” 11. As quoted in Guy Snodgrass, Holding the Line: Inside Trump’s Pentagon with Secretary Mattis (New York: Penguin Random House, 2019), 72–73. 12. As quoted in Snodgrass, Holding the Line, 79. 13. Snodgrass, 79. 14. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific.” 15. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific.” 16. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 7. 17. Summary of the 2018 National Defense Strategy, 5. 18. “Restoring” deterrence was a common trope in the Trump era, sometimes tied to arguments for introducing cruise missiles in Asia that would have violated the INF Treaty. See, e.g., Marc Thiessen, “Donald Trump Is the Most Pro-Taiwan President in U.S. History,” Washington Post, January 15, 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/01/14/ donald-trump-is-most-pro-taiwan-president-us-history/. 19. For two different literature reviews that both repudiate the Pentagon’s theory of deterrence, see Jeffrey Knopf, “The Fourth Wave of Deterrence Research,” Contemporary Security Policy 31, no. 1 (2010): 1–33; Amir Lupovici, “The Emerging Fourth Wave of Deterrence Theory—toward a New Research Agenda,” International Studies Quarterly 54 (2010): 705–32. 20. As quoted in Van Jackson, On the Brink: Trump, Kim, and the Threat of Nuclear War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 111. 21. Remarks by President Trump to the 72nd Session of the United Nations General Assembly, New York, September 19, 2017, https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=AyttM9EnObc.

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22. As quoted in Jackson, On the Brink, 161. 23. Dennis Blair, “Chairman’s Message: Trump’s Trip to Asia and Fundamentals to Consider in a High-Stakes Environment,” Sasakawa USA, November 6, 2017, https://spfusa.org/chairmans-message/chairmans-message-trumpstrip-asia-fundamentals-consider-high-stakes-environment/. 24. Jackson, On the Brink, 132–48. 25. “Trump Advisers Clash over ‘Bloody Nose’ Strike on North Korea,” CNN, February 1, 2018, https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/01/politics/ north-korea-trump-bloody-nose-dispute. 26. This phrase was an explicit clarion call in the 2018 National Defense Strategy. See Summary of the 2018 National Defense Strategy, 5. 27. Idrees Ali, “U.S. Defense Secretary Says He Favors Placing Missiles in Asia,” Reuters, August 3, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-usaasia-inf-idUSKCN1UT098. 28. Jesse Johnson, “In First, Washington Calls on Beijing to Remove Missiles from South China Sea,” Japan Times, November 10, 2018, https://www. japantimes.co.jp/news/2018/11/10/asia-pacific/politics-diplomacy-asiapacific/first-washington-calls-beijing-remove-missiles-south-china-sea/. 29. See, e.g., Will Roper’s comments in Julian Barnes and David Sanger, “Russia Deploys Hypersonic Weapon, Potentially Renewing Arms Race,” New York Times, December 27, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/12/ 27/us/politics/russia-hypersonic-weapon.html. 30. Jackson, On the Brink, 105–8. 31. Anna Fifield, “White House Warns North Korea Not to Test US Resolve, Offering Syria and Afghanistan Strikes as Examples,” Washington Post, April 17, 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/ pence-makes-surprise-stop-to-demilitarized-zone-during-koreatrip/2017/04/16/e1da822e-230e-11e7-a1b3-faff0034e2de_story.html. 32. See, e.g., Michael Pillsbury, “The Sixteen Fears: China’s Strategic Psychology,” Survival 54, no. 5 (2012): 149–82; Kenneth Eckman, “Winning the Peace through Cost Imposition,” Center for 21st Century Security and Intelligence Policy Paper (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 2014). 33. This is discussed in Medcalf, Indo-Pacific Empire, 111–16. 34. Interview with former U.S. Department of Defense official, January 10, 2018. 35. Robert Kaplan, Monsoon: The Indian Ocean and the Future of American Power (New York: Penguin Random House, 2010). 36. Snodgrass, Holding the Line, 154. 37. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 5. 38. Policy Planning Staff, The Elements of the China Challenge (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, 2020). 39. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 5; Pranab Dhal Samanta, “US’ Comcasa Assurance: Won’t Share India Data without Consent,”

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Economic Times, September 5, 2018, https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/ news/politics-and-nation/us-comcasa-assurance-wont-share-india-datawithout-consent/articleshow/65678934.cms. 40. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 5. 41. Joshua Green, Devil’s Bargain: Steve Bannon, Donald Trump, and the Storming of the American Presidency (New York: Penguin Books, 2017), 205. 42. Peter Bergen, Trump and His Generals: The Cost of Chaos (New York: Random House, 2019), 6–7. 43. As one official explained, “The more China was being aggressive, the easier [the Quad] became to do.” Interview with former U.S. Department of Defense official, January 10, 2018. 44. Andrew O’Neill and Lucy West, “The Quadrilateral Security Dialogue and Indo-Pacific Minilateralism: Resurrection without Renewal?” in Minilateralism in the Indo-Pacific: The Quadrilateral Security Dialogue, Lancang-Mekong Cooperation Mechanism, and ASEAN, ed. Bhubhindar Singh and Sarah Teo (Abingdon: Routledge, 2020), 27–41. 45. See, e.g., Ashley Townshend, David Santoro, and Brendan ThomasNoone, Revisiting Deterrence in an Era of Strategic Competition (Sydney: United States Studies Centre, 2019), https://www.ussc.edu.au/analysis/ revisiting-deterrence-in-an-era-of-strategic-competition. 46. Jackson, Restoring Strategic Competence; Van Jackson and Hunter Marston, “Trump, Not Biden, Wrecked American Power in the Pacific,” Foreign Policy, October 23, 2020, https://foreignpolicy.com/2020/10/23/election2020-biden-trump-pacific-asia/. 47. Gerry Shih, “China Threatens Invasion of Taiwan in New Video Showing Military Might,” Washington Post, October 12, 2020, https://www. washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/china-taiwan-invasion-militaryexercise/2020/10/12/291f5d86-0c58-11eb-b404-8d1e675ec701_story. html. 48. As quoted in Gerry Shih, “Taiwan Says Threat of Military Clash with China Is ‘on the Rise,’ ” Washington Post, July 23, 2020, https://www. washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/taiwan-says-threat-of-militaryclash-with-china-is-on-the-rise/2020/07/22/6f6da4c8-cc0c-11ea-99b08426e26d203b_story.html. 49. On North Korea’s strategic culture of pressure for pressure, see Jackson, On the Brink, 35–41. 50. Van Jackson, “What Kim Jong Un Wants from Trump,” Politico Magazine, April 30, 2018, https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2018/04/30/ what-kim-jong-un-wants-from-trump-218115. 51. Lawrence Summers, “The United States and the Global Adjustment Process,” remarks delivered at the Third Annual Stavros Niarchos Foundation Lecture, March 23, 2004, https://www.piie.com/events/unitedstates-and-global-adjustment-process.

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52. Evan Medeiros, “The Changing Fundamentals of U.S.-China Relations,” Washington Quarterly 42, no. 3 (2019): 97–98. 53. On Kushner’s China-related conflicts of interest, see Adam Entous and Evan Osnos, “Jared Kushner Is China’s Trump Card,” New Yorker, January 20, 2018, https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/01/29/jaredkushner-is-chinas-trump-card. 54. As quoted in Josh Rogin, “Inside the Kushner Channel to China,” Washington Post, April 2, 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/ global-opinions/inside-the-kushner-channel-to-china/2017/04/02/ d1a960c6-164f-11e7-833c-503e1f6394c9_story.html?utm_term=. fb3773e1c8bb. 55. Rogin, “Inside the Kushner Channel to China.” 56. Rogin. See also Entous and Osnos, “Jared Kushner Is China’s Trump Card.” 57. Myah Ward, “15 Times Trump Praised China as Coronavirus Was Spreading across the Globe,” Politico, April 15, 2020, https://www.politico.com/news/2020/04/15/trump-china-coronavirus-188736. 58. Michael Bender and Chao Deng, “Trump Calls Hong Kong Protests ‘Complicating Factor’ in Trade Talks,” Wall Street Journal, November 22, 2019, https://www.wsj.com/articles/xi-jinping-calls-for-u-s-china-cooperation-at-critical-juncture-11574422912. 59. Peter Ross Strange, “The Theory of Political Leadership That Donald Trump Shares with Adolf Hitler,” Washington Post, July 25, 2016, https:// www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/07/25/the-theoryof-political-leadership-that-donald-trump-shares-with-adolf-hitler/. 60. As quoted in Uri Friedman, “The New Concept Everyone in Washington Is Talking About,” The Atlantic, August 9, 2019, https://www.theatlantic. com/politics/archive/2019/08/what-genesis-great-power-competition/ 595405/. 61. Kurt Campbell and Ely Ratner, “The China Reckoning: How Beijing Defied American Expectations,” Foreign Affairs, March–April 2018, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/china/2018-02-13/china-reckoning. 62. Remarks by Kiron Skinner at the New America Foundation Future Security Forum, Washington, D.C., April 29, 2019, https://www.newamerica.org/conference/future-security-forum-2019/. 63. Remarks by Kiron Skinner. 64. Policy Planning Staff, The Elements of the China Challenge (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, 2020), 44. 65. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 2. 66. As quoted in Paul Musgrave, “John Bolton Is Warning of a ‘Clash of Civilizations’ with China. Here Are the Five Things You Need to Know,” Washington Post, July 18, 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2019/

260

Notes to Pages 176–177

07/18/john-bolton-is-warning-clash-civilizations-with-china-here-are-fivethings-you-need-know/. 67. “Communist China and the Free World’s Future,” Secretary Michael R. Pompeo, remarks at the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, Yorba Linda, Calif., July 23, 2020. 68. “Attorney General William P. Barr Delivers Remarks on China Policy at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum,” Grand Rapids, Mich., July 16, 2020, https://www.justice.gov/opa/speech/attorney-general-william-pbarr-delivers-remarks-china-policy-gerald-r-ford-presidential. 69. As quoted in Wendy Wu, “Cold War Is Back: Bannon Helps Revive U.S. Committee to Target ‘Aggressive Totalitarian Foe’ China,” Politico, March 26, 2019, https://www.politico.com/story/2019/03/26/steve-bannonchina-1238039. 70. Robert Kuttner, “Steve Bannon, Unrepentant,” American Prospect, August 16, 2017, https://prospect.org/power/steve-bannon-unrepentant/. 71. Kaiser Kuo and William Yuen Yee, “White Privilege, American Hegemony, and the Rise of China,” Sup China, August 21, 2020, https://supchina. com/2020/08/21/white-privilege-american-hegemony-and-the-rise-ofchina/; Kimmy Yam, “Trump Can’t Claim ‘Kung Flu’ Doesn’t Affect Asian Americans in This Climate, Experts Say,” NBC News, June 23, 2020, https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/trump-can-t-claim-kungflu-doesn-t-affect-asian-n1231812; Sewell Chan, “The Link between AntiBlack Racism and Trump’s ‘Kung Flu’ Comment,” LA Times, June 22, 2020, https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2020-06-22/trump-kungflu-coronavirus. 72. Mark Mazetti, Julian Barnes, Edward Wong, and Adam Goldman, “Trump Officials Are Said to Press Spies to Link Virus and Wuhan Labs,” New York Times, April 30, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/ 04/30/us/politics/trump-administration-intelligence-coronavirus-china. html. 73. Alexandra Stevenson, “Senator Tom Cotton Repeats Fringe Theory of Coronavirus Origins,” New York Times, February 17, 2020, https://www. nytimes.com/2020/02/17/business/media/coronavirus-tom-cotton-china. html. 74. Alex Isenstadt, “GOP Memo Urges Anti-China Assault over Coronavirus,” Politico, April 24, 2020, https://www.politico.com/news/2020/04/24/ gop-memo-anti-china-coronavirus-207244. 75. Gillian Brockwell, “250,000 Lives Lost: How the Pandemic Compares to Other Deadly Events in U.S. History,” Washington Post, November 20, 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/history/2020/11/19/ranking-coviddeaths-american-history/. 76. Reeves, Chinese Foreign Relations with Weak Peripheral States. 77. Steven Lee Myers, “China Spins Tale That the U.S. Army Started the Coronavirus Epidemic,” New York Times, March 13, 2020, https://www.ny-

Notes to Pages 178–179

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times.com/2020/03/13/world/asia/coronavirus-china-conspiracy-theory. html. 78. Kuttner, “Steve Bannon, Unrepentant.” 79. Matthew Iglesias, “Trump Helps Sanctioned Chinese Phone Maker After China Delivers a Big Loan to a Trump Project,” Vox, May 15, 2018, https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2018/5/15/17355202/trumpzte-indonesia-lido-city. 80. Peter Baker and Eileen Sullivan, “Trump Publicly Urges China to Investigate the Bidens,” New York Times, October 3, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/03/us/politics/trump-china-bidens.html. 81. Jeremy Diamond, “Trump: ‘We Can’t Continue to Allow China to Rape Our Country,’ ” CNN, May 2, 2016, https://www.cnn.com/2016/05/01/ politics/donald-trump-china-rape/index.html. 82. As quoted in Snodgrass, Holding the Line, 78. 83. “Under Section 301 Action, USTR Releases Proposed Tariff List on Chinese Products,” April 3, 2018, https://ustr.gov/about-us/policy-offices/press-office/press-releases/2018/april/under-section-301-actionustr. 84. Joe Deaux, Andrew Mayeda, Toluse Olorunnipa, and Jeff Black, “Trump Says Trade Wars Are ‘Good, and Easy to Win,’ ” Bloomberg News, March 2, 2018, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-03-01/trumpis-said-to-delay-decision-on-steel-and-aluminum-tariffs. 85. @RealDonaldTrump, tweet, April 4, 2018, https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/981492087328792577. 86. U.S. Department of the Treasury, “Major Foreign Holders of Treasury Securities,” January 19, 2021, https://ticdata.treasury.gov/Publish/mfh. txt. 87. Doug Palmer, “America’s Trade Gap Soared under Trump, Final Figures Show,” Politico, February 5, 2021, https://www.politico.com/news/2021/ 02/05/2020-trade-figures-trump-failure-deficit-466116. 88. Huileng Tan and Seema Mody, “China’s Ambassador to the U.S. Explains Why the Country Is Fighting Back,” CNBC, April 4, 2018, https://www. cnbc.com/2018/04/03/chinese-ambassador-to-us-we-will-take-measuresto-fight-back-very-soon.html. 89. Tan and Mody, “China’s Ambassador to the U.S.” 90. Dorcas Wong and Alexander Chipman Coty, “The U.S.-China Trade War: A Timeline,” China Briefing, August 25, 2020, https://www.chinabriefing.com/news/the-us-china-trade-war-a-timeline/. 91. See, e.g., Demetri Sevastopulo, “Trump Threatens to Cut Off Relations with China,” Financial Times, May 15, 2020, https://www.ft.com/content/ cfbba6bf-3de5-458d-92d1-a62fb958a354; “White House Adviser Navarro Walks Back on Comments China Trade Deal ‘Over,’ ” Reuters, June 23, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-trade-china-navarroidUSKBN23U02Q.

262

Notes to Pages 179–180

 92. Iglesias, “Trump Helps Sanctioned Chinese Phone Maker.”  93. “DoD Releases List of Additional Companies in Accordance with Section 1237 of FY99 NDAA,” January 14, 2021, https://www.defense.gov/ Newsroom/Releases/Release/Article/2472464/dod-releases-list-ofadditional-companies-in-accordance-with-section-1237-of-fy/.  94. Ana Swanson and Edward Wong, “U.S. Adds Sanctions over Internment of Muslims in China,” New York Times, August 7, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/31/us/politics/sanctions-china-xinjiang-uighurs. html.  95. See, e.g., Sara Salinas, “Six Top US Intelligence Chiefs Caution against Buying Huawei Phones,” CNBC, February 13, 2018, https://www.cnbc. com/2018/02/13/chinas-hauwei-top-us-intelligence-chiefs-cautionamericans-away.html.  96. “The Threat Posed by the Chinese Government and the Chinese Communist Party to the Economic and National Security of the United States,” remarks by Christopher Wray, July 7, 2020, Washington, D.C., https://www.fbi.gov/news/speeches/the-threat-posed-by-the-chinesegovernment-and-the-chinese-communist-party-to-the-economic-andnational-security-of-the-united-states.  97. Ben Scott, “Five Eyes: Blurring the Lines between Intelligence and Policy,” The Interpreter, July 27, 2020, https://www.lowyinstitute.org/theinterpreter/five-eyes-blurring-lines-between-intelligence-and-policy.  98. Alan Rappeport, “Chinese Money in the U.S. Dries Up as Trade War Drags On,” New York Times, July 21, 2019, https://www.nytimes. com/2019/07/21/us/politics/china-investment-trade-war.html.  99. Henry Farrell and Abraham Newman, “Weaponized Interdependence: How Global Economic Networks Shape State Coercion,” International Security 44, no. 1 (2019): 42–79. 100. Evan A. Feigenbaum, “Is Coercion the New Normal in China’s Economic Statecraft?” MacroPolo, July 25, 2017, https://macropolo.org/ coercion-new-normal-chinas-economic-statecraft/. 101. Derek Adam Levine, “Made in China 2025: China’s Strategy for Becoming a Global High-Tech Superpower and Its Implications for the U.S. Economy, National Security, and Free Trade,” Journal of Strategic Security 13, no. 3 (2020): 1–16. 102. As quoted in Julian Gewirtz, “The Chinese Reassessment of Interdependence,” China Leadership Monitor, June 1, 2020, https://www. prcleader.org/gewirtz. 103. Gewirtz, “The Chinese Reassessment of Interdependence.” See also Matthew Schrader, “China Is Weaponizing Globalization,” Foreign Policy, June 5, 2020, https://foreignpolicy.com/2020/06/05/china-globalization-weaponizing-trade-communist-party/?utm_source=PostUp&utm_ medium=email&utm_campaign=21849&utm_term=Editors%20 Picks%20OC&?tpcc=21849.

Notes to Pages 181–185

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104. James Crabtree, “China’s Radical New Vision of Globalization,” Noema Magazine, December 10, 2020, https://www.noemamag.com/chinasradical-new-vision-of-globalization/. 105. Liza Tobin, “Xi’s Vision for Global Governance: A Strategic Challenge for Washington and Its Allies,” Texas National Security Review 2, no. 1 (2018), http://dx.doi.org/10.26153/tsw/863. 106. On this interpretation of the BRI and China’s low consumption rates, see Klein and Pettis, Trade Wars Are Class Wars, 124–26. 107. Alyssa Leng and Roland Rajah, “Chart of the Week: Global Trade through a US-China Lens,” The Interpreter, December 18, 2019, https:// www.lowyinstitute.org/the-interpreter/chart-week-global-trade-throughus-china-lens. 108. As quoted in Bergen, Trump and His Generals, 419. 109. CPTPP excluded twenty-two provisions that the United States had previously negotiated for that would have made the agreement more advantageous to U.S. firms. 110. Matteo Dian, “The Strategic Value of the Trans-Pacific Partnership and the Consequences of Abandoning It for the US Role in Asia,” International Politics 54 (2017): 583–97. 111. Paula Hancocks, “Japan and South Korea Hit Back at Trump’s Nuclear Comments,” CNN, March 31, 2016, https://www.cnn.com/2016/03/31/ politics/trump-view-from-south-korea-japan/index.html. 112. Stephanie Condon, “Donald Trump: Japan, South Korea Might Need Nuclear Weapons,” CBS News, March 29, 2016, https://www.cbsnews. com/news/donald-trump-japan-south-korea-might-need-nuclear-weapons/. 113. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” declassified National Security Council paper, n.d., 2. 114. As quoted in Bergen, Trump and His Generals, 17. 115. Snodgrass, Holding the Line, 75–76. 116. Snodgrass, 169. 117. Snodgrass, 78. 118. As quoted in Steve Holland and David Brunnstrom, “Trump Says He Does Not Mind If Philippines Cuts Military Pact with U.S.,” Reuters, February 13, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-philippines-usadefense-trump/trump-says-he-does-not-mind-if-philippines-cuts-military-pact-with-u-s-idUSKBN2062TL. 119. See Jackson, Restoring Strategic Competence. 120. Michael Fullilove, “How I Lost My Faith in America,” The Atlantic, February 12, 2020, https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/02/ how-americanophile-lost-his-faith-us/606388/; Jackson, Restoring Strategic Competence. 121. “South Korea Says No Military Action without Seoul’s Consent,” Reuters, August 15, 2017, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-ww2-anniversary-

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Notes to Pages 185–186

southkorea/south-koreas-moon-says-no-military-action-without-seoulsconsent-idUSKCN1AV04G. 122. Jackson, Restoring Strategic Competence. 123. A Government of Japan official published an op-ed under a pseudonym in 2020, taking credit for Trump’s maximum-pressure policy and his approach to Asia, yet also hand-wringing about the administration’s erraticism. Y.A., “The Virtues of a Confrontational China Strategy,” American Interest, April 10, 2020, https://www.the-american-interest.com/2020/ 04/10/the-virtues-of-a-confrontational-china-strategy/. 124. Brian Bennett and Tessa Berenson, “President Trump ‘Doesn’t Think He Needs’ to Prepare Much for His Meeting with North Korea’s Kim Jong Un,” Time, May 16, 2018, https://time.com/5279914/donaldtrump-north-korea-summit-preparation/. 125. Mark Landler, “As Next Trump-Kim Summit Nears, Japan Worries U.S. Will Leave It in the Dark,” New York Times, January 23, 2019, https:// www.nytimes.com/2019/01/23/world/asia/shinzo-abe-north-koreatrump.html; Reiji Yoshida, “For Japan, ‘No Deal’ at Kim-Trump Summit Beats Bad Deal,” Japan Times, March 1, 2019, https://www.japantimes. co.jp/news/2019/03/01/national/politics-diplomacy/japan-no-deal-kimtrump-summit-beats-bad-deal-concessions-nuclear-north-korea/. 126. David Lague and Benjamin Kang Lim, “Special Report: New Missile Gap Leaves U.S. Scrambling to Counter China,” Reuters, April 25, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-army-rockets-specialreport/ special-report-new-missile-gap-leaves-u-s-scrambling-to-counter-chinaidUSKCN1S11DH; Dan Goure, “The New ‘Missile Gap’: America Is Losing to Russian and Chinese Hypersonic Weapons,” National Interest, December 18, 2019, https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/new-missilegap-america-losing-russian-and-chinese-hypersonic-weapons-105946. 127. Franz-Stefan Gady, “Australia, South Korea Say No to Deployment of US INF-Range Missiles on Their Soil,” The Diplomat, August 6, 2019, https://thediplomat.com/2019/08/australia-south-korea-say-no-to-deployment-of-us-inf-range-missiles-on-their-soil/; Benjamin Rimland, “Into the Crosshairs: INF Withdrawal and Japan’s Security,” Tokyo Review, January 1, 2019, https://www.tokyoreview.net/2019/01/inf-withdrawal-japan-security/. 128. See, e.g., Rimland, “Into the Crosshairs.” 129. Michael Peck, “100 Billion Reasons Why: Why Australia Said No to American Missiles Aimed at China,” National Interest, August 18, 2019, https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/100-billion-reasons-why-whyaustralia-said-no-american-missiles-aimed-china-74206. 130. Ankit Panda, “New U.S. Missiles in Asia Could Increase the North Korean Nuclear Threat,” Foreign Policy, November 14, 2019, https:// foreignpolicy.com/2019/11/14/us-missiles-asia-inf-north-korea-nuclearthreat-grow/.

Notes to Pages 187–189

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131. On alliances as institutions, see Celeste Wallander, “Institutional Assets and Adaptability: NATO after the Cold War,” International Organization 54, no. 4 (2000): 705–35. 132. See, e.g., Josh Rogin, “Trump’s Latest Summit No-Shows Are His Final Insult to America’s Asian Allies,” Washington Post, November 18, 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/11/17/trump-aseaneast-asia-summit-no-shows-insult-asian-allies/; Hau Dinh and Eileen Ng, “Trump Skips Southeast Asia Summit for Third Year in a Row,” ABC News, November 15, 2020, https://abcnews.go.com/International/ wireStory/trump-skips-southeast-asia-summit-year-row-74204278. 133. For a historical comparison of attendance, see Jonah Langan-Marmur and Philip Saunders, “Absent without Leave? Gauging US Commitment to the Indo-Pacific,” The Diplomat, May 6, 2020, https://thediplomat. com/2020/05/absent-without-leave-gauging-us-commitment-to-theindo-pacific/?fbclid=IwAR3F2nRRFd6fttsbyQYwwZAuJLIb38B1SafLD NhcUf6BwAa_wkTj3z_-WxU. 134. Ronald Reagan, National Security Decision Directive 185, “Private Sector Cooperation in the Pacific Basin,” September 4, 1985, https://fas. org/irp/offdocs/nsdd/nsdd-185.pdf. 135. Remarks by President Trump at APEC CEO Summit, Da Nang, Vietnam, November 10, 2017, https://vn.usembassy.gov/20171110-remarkspresident-trump-apec-ceo-summit/. 136. Remarks by President Trump. 137. Secretary Michael R. Pompeo, opening remarks at the Quad Ministerial, Tokyo, Japan, October 6, 2020. 138. “Sec. Pompeo Remarks on ‘America’s Indo-Pacific Economic Vision,’ ” Washington, D.C., July 30, 2018, https://asean.usmission.gov/sec-pompeo-remarks-on-americas-indo-pacific-economic-vision/. 139. “Sec. Pompeo Remarks.” 140. See Chairman’s Statement of the Seventh ASEAN–United States Summit, November 4, 2019, https://asean.usmission.gov/chairmans-statement-of-the-7th-asean-united-states-summit/. 141. “The Asia Reassurance Initiative Act of 2018,” in In Focus (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 2019), https://fas.org/sgp/crs/ row/IF11148.pdf. 142. As of 2020, the AIIB lent $8 billion, and the BRI was associated with some $200 billion worth of projects. See “China’s AIIB Eyes $10–12 Billion a Year in Project Financing, Steady Growth,” Reuters, July 1, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-aiib-investment/chinasaiib-eyes-10-12-billion-a-year-in-project-financing-steady-growthidUSKCN1TW1OL; Andrew Chatzky and James McBride, “China’s Massive Belt and Road Initiative,” CFR Backgrounder, January 28, 2020, https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/chinas-massive-belt-and-roadinitiative.

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Notes to Pages 189–191

143. Leif-Eric Easley, “Shaping South Korea’s Middle-Power Future,” East Asia Forum, May 27, 2020, https://www.eastasiaforum.org/2020/05/27/ shaping-south-koreas-middle-power-future/. 144. “Trump Absent, ASEAN Charts Path for Trade Bloc Led by China,” CNBC, November 3, 2019, https://www.cnbc.com/2019/11/03/trumpabsent-asean-charts-path-for-trade-bloc-led-by-china.html. 145. Fumi Matsumoto, “New Zealand Looks beyond China to Survive Trade War: Minister,” Nikkei Asian Review, August 7, 2019, https://asia.nikkei. com/Editor-s-Picks/Interview/New-Zealand-looks-beyond-China-tosurvive-trade-war-minister. 146. For a representative example of these recurring themes, see “Acting Secretary Shanahan’s Remarks at the IISS Shangri-La Dialogue 2019,” June 1, 2019, https://www.defense.gov/Newsroom/Transcripts/Transcript/ Article/1871584/acting-secretary-shanahans-remarks-at-the-iiss-shangrila-dialogue-2019/. 147. Philip Wen, Jonathan Barrett, and Tom Westbrook, “APEC Fails to Reach Consensus as U.S.-China Divide Deepens,” Reuters, November 18, 2018, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-apec-summit-energy/ apec-fails-to-reach-consensus-as-u-s-china-divide-deepensidUSKCN1NN00M. 148. Takashi Nakano, “Southeast Asian Capitals Bristle at Trump’s Trade Probe,” Nikkei Asia, April 18, 2017, https://asia.nikkei.com/Politics/International-relations/Southeast-Asian-capitals-bristle-at-Trump-strade-probe2. 149. Lee Hsien Loong, “The Endangered Asian Century: America, China, and the Perils of Confrontation,” Foreign Affairs, July–August 2020, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/asia/2020-06-04/lee-hsienloong-endangered-asian-century. 150. See Seng Tan, “Consigned to Hedge: South-East Asia and America’s ‘Free and Open Indo-Pacific Strategy,’ ” International Affairs 96, no. 1 (2020): 131–48. 151. “China Likely Lost at Least 40 Soldiers in Border Clash: Indian Minister,” Reuters, June 21, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-india-china/ china-likely-lost-at-least-40-soldiers-in-border-clash-indian-ministeridUSKBN23S079. 152. Javier Hernandez, “Harsh Penalties, Vaguely Defined Crimes: Hong Kong’s Security Law Explained,” New York Times, June 30, 2020, https:// www.nytimes.com/2020/06/30/world/asia/hong-kong-security-law-explain.html. 153. Ivy Kwek and Chew Ping-hoo, “Malaysia’s Rationale and Response to South China Sea Tensions,” CSIS Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative, May 29, 2020, https://amti.csis.org/malaysias-rationale-and-responseto-south-china-sea-tensions/; Khan Vu, “Vietnam Protests Beijing’s Sinking of South China Sea Boat,” Reuters, April 4, 2020, https://www.

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reuters.com/article/us-vietnam-china-southchinasea/vietnam-protestsbeijings-sinking-of-south-china-sea-boat-idUSKBN21M072. 154. Viet Hoang, “The Code of Conduct for the South China Sea: A Long and Bumpy Road,” The Diplomat, September 28, 2020, https://thediplomat.com/2020/09/the-code-of-conduct-for-the-south-china-sea-along-and-bumpy-road/. 155. @RealDonaldTrump, tweet, January 3, 2018, https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/948355557022420992?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw. 156. “ ‘This Week’ Transcript 8-13-17: Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, Anthony Scaramucci,” ABC News, August 13, 2017, https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/week-transcript-13-17-lt-gen-mcmaster-anthony/story?id=49177024. 157. Phil Rucker and Josh Dawsey, “ ‘We Fell in Love’: Trump and Kim Shower Praise, Stroke Egos on Path to Nuclear Negotiations,” Washington Post, February 25, 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/we-fell-in-lovetrump-and-kim-shower-praise-stroke-egos-on-path-to-nuclear-negotiations /2019/02/24/46875188-3777-11e9-854a-7a14d7fec96a_story.html. 158. Emily Ruahala and Simon Denyer, “The Kushner Kids on Show, North Korea on Notice and Other Takeaways from the Xi-Trump Summit,” Washington Post, April 8, 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/ worldviews/wp/2017/04/08/the-kushner-kids-on-show-north-korea-onnotice-and-other-takeaways-from-the-xi-trump-summit/. 159. “Trump Says Xi Has Acted Responsibly on Hong Kong Protests,” Reuters, July 23, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-trade-china/ trump-says-chinas-xi-has-acted-responsibly-on-hong-kong-protestsidUSKCN1UH20Q. 160. John Bolton, “The Scandal of Trump’s China Policy,” Wall Street Journal, June 17, 2020, https://www.wsj.com/articles/john-bolton-the-scandal-of-trumps-china-policy-11592419564. 161. “Communist China and the Free World’s Future,” Secretary Michael R. Pompeo, remarks at the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, Yorba Linda, Calif., July 23, 2020. 162. “U.S. Strategic Framework for the Indo-Pacific,” 7. 163. “Vice President Mike Pence’s Remarks on the Administration’s Policy towards China,” Hudson Institute, Washington, D.C., October 4, 2018, https://www.hudson.org/events/1610-vice-president-mike-pence-s-remarks-on-the-administration-s-policy-towards-china102018. 164. As quoted in “Pompeo: China Is World’s ‘Gravest Threat’ to Religious Freedom,” Catholic News Agency, October 29, 2020, https://www. catholicnewsagency.com/news/pompeo-china-is-worlds-gravest-threatto-religious-freedom-91976. 165. “Designation of the Secretary of State on Atrocities in Xinjiang,” Department of State press statement, January 19, 2021, https://2017-2021.state. gov/determination-of-the-secretary-of-state-on-atrocities-in-xinjiang/ index.html.

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Notes to Pages 193–204

166. Policy Planning Staff, Elements of the China Challenge, 44. 167. As quoted in Joel Gehrke, “State Department Compares China to Nazi Germany in Human Rights Briefing,” Washington Examiner, March 13, 2019, https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/policy/defense-nationalsecurity/state-department-compares-china-to-nazi-germany-in-humanrights-briefing. 168. Policy Planning Staff, Elements of the China Challenge, 45. 169. Yun-Han Chu, Michael Vatikiotis, Mosharraf Zaidi, and Catherine Putz, “The State of Democracy in Asia,” in Asian Barometer 2020 Survey (Taipei: Hu Fu Center for East Asia Democratic Studies, 2020), http://www. asianbarometer.org/pdf/State-of-Democracy-in-Asia.pdf. 170. M. Taylor Fravel, “China and India Are Pulling Back from the Brink. They’ve Created a Buffer Zone and Started Talks,” Washington Post, March 4, 2021, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/03/03/chinaindia-are-pulling-back-brink-theyve-created-buffer-zone-started-talks/. 171. Oliver Tonby, Jonathan Woetzel, Wonsik Choi, Karel Eloot, Rajat Dhawan, Jeongmin Seong, and Patti Wang, “The Future of Asia: Asian Flows and Networks Are Defining the Next Phase of Globalization,” McKinsey Institute Discussion Paper, September 18, 2019, https://www. mckinsey.com/featured-insights/asia-pacific/the-future-of-asia-asianflows-and-networks-are-defining-the-next-phase-of-globalization#. 172. Jude Blanchette, “Beijing’s Visions of American Decline,” Politico China Watcher, March 11, 2021, https://www.politico.com/newsletters/politicochina-watcher/2021/03/11/beijings-visions-of-american-decline-492064.

Chapter Eight.  Searching for an Indo-Pacific Peace   1. Nye, “East Asian Security,” 91.   2. See chap. 2.   3. Cheng Guan Ang, Singapore, ASEAN, and the Cambodian Conflict, 1978– 1991 (Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2013).   4. Bradley Simpson, “Solidarity in an Age of Globalization: The International Movement for East Timor and U.S. Foreign Policy,” Peace and Change 29, nos. 3–4 (2004): 453–82; David Webster, Challenge the Strong Wind: Canada and East Timor, 1975–1999 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2020).   5. Simpson, “Solidarity in an Age of Globalization.”   6. Peter Hartcher, “ ‘Just Not Going to Happen’: US Warns China over Australia Trade Stoush,” Sydney Morning Herald, March 16, 2021, https:// www.smh.com.au/world/north-america/just-not-going-to-happen-uswarns-china-over-australian-trade-stoush-20210316-p57b4l.html.   7. The sole possible exception to this is Obama, who inherited a world on the brink of financial collapse.

Notes to Pages 204–209

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  8. The State of Southeast Asia: Survey Report 2021 (Singapore: ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute, 2021), 7; Wesley Morgan, “Ripple Effect: The Cost of Our Pacific Neglect,” Australian Foreign Affairs, October 2021, https:// www.australianforeignaffairs.com/articles/extract/2021/08/ripple-effect.  9. See, e.g., the China watcher Elsa Kania’s extended discussion about the McCarthyist toxicity of the China debate since the pandemic. @EBKania, tweet, February 27, 2021, https://twitter.com/EBKania/ status/1365357366015844358. 10. Mike Pompeo, interview by Suzanne Kianpour, as quoted in @Kianpourworld, February 28, 2021, https://twitter.com/KianpourWorld/status/ 1365716236269715459. 11. Interim National Security Strategic Guidance (Washington, D.C.: White House, 2021), 9. 12. One of the canonical pieces in international relations, for example, is Tom Christensen and Jack Snyder, “Chain Gangs and Passed Bucks: Predicting Alliances Patterns in Multipolarity,” International Organization 44, no. 2 (1990): 137–68. 13. See especially Ronald Krebs, Narrative and the Making of U.S. National Security (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Kay and King, Radical Uncertainty; Rumelt, Good Strategy / Bad Strategy. 14. Admiral Phil Davidson, remarks at the AFCEA TechNet Indo-Pacific Conference, Honolulu, Hawaii, March 1, 2021, https://www.pacom.mil/ Media/Speeches-Testimony/Article/2520995/afcea-technet-indo-pacificconference/. 15. Arzan Tarapore, “Building Strategic Leverage in the Indian Ocean Region,” Washington Quarterly 43, no. 4 (2020): 207–37.

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Index

A2/AD (anti-access/area denial), 117, 139, 141, 151 Able Archer military exercise, 199 Acheson, Dean, 30 ADB, 23 ADIZ (air defense identification zone), 140, 149–50 ADMM-Plus (ASEAN Defence Ministers’ Meeting Plus), 156, 157, 171, 190 Afghanistan: Soviet presence in, 55; war in, 107, 108, 109, 139, 200. See also war on terror AFTA (ASEAN Free Trade Area), 124 Agreed Framework, 83–84, 122 AIIB (Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank), 152, 158, 164, 189 air defense identification zone (ADIZ), 140, 149–50 AirLand Battle, 44 AirSea Battle (ASB), 139, 141 Albright, Madeleine, 101 alignment, 164 Allen, Richard, 60 alliances, 5, 12, 14–16, 24, 25; as autocracy, 52; “balancing wheel” concept, 80; durability of, 82; military superiority and, 78;

negative peace and, 137; North Korea and, 82; pivot and, 133–38; preventing military conflict and, 134–38; principles of U.S. Asia policy and, 79; rationales for, 83; in Southeast Asia, 49; stability and, 133; TAC and, 123; trade deficits and, 184; unipolar moment and, 78–84; U.S. preferences and, 133; war on terror and, 110–13. See also military presence; individual countries; individual presidents allies: burden-sharing contributions, 110; credibility of U.S. commitments to, 138; détente and, 15; disagreements with, 50–53; engagements with, 133; imperious treatment of, 50–53; need for, 107–14; need for U.S. military presence, 77; nuclear policy and, 69; questioning of U.S. competence, 185–86; reassuring, 163; responsibility for own defense, 79. See also individual countries Al-Qaida, 109. See also war on terror American Prospect, 176 AMF (Asian Monetary Fund), 94, 103 anti-access / area denial (A2/AD), 117, 139, 141, 151

271

272

Index

Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, 110 anticolonialism, 23; ASEAN and, 91, 156; globalization and, 95; regionalism and, 95 anticommunism, 42, 45, 61; democracy and, 62; dictatorships and, 62; NICs, 58; in Philippines, 63–64. See also communism ANZUS, 49 APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation). See Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation Aquino, Corazon, 64, 81, 82 ARF (ASEAN Regional Forum), 20, 92, 121, 122, 123, 124, 135, 156, 190; 2010, 149, 159 Armacost, Michael, 47 armed conflicts. See war Armitage, Richard, 47, 81, 114 arms race, 169 arms sales/transfers: to China, 55, 56– 57, 69; Reagan administration and, 62; to Taiwan, 48–49, 120, 169, 172 Arroyo, Gloria, 128 ASB (AirSea Battle), 139, 141 ASEAN, 22–23, 58, 66–67; anticolonialism and, 91, 156; APEC and, 91; George W. Bush administration and, 121, 123–24; Cambodia and, 67, 161; CambodiaVietnam conflict and, 91, 92, 201; centrality of, 157; China and, 125; during Cold War, 23; conflict resolution and security community building by, 104; consensus and, 159–60; Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea, 125; economy-first political strategies, 125; financial crisis and, 94, 105; founding of, 19; institutional functionality of, 22–23; Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights, 157; Pompeo’s speech to, 188; RCEP and, 158,

189; in Reagan era, 65–68; regionalism and, 156; Rohingya genocide and, 160; Rumsfeld on, 121; Sino-U.S. rivalry and, 190; Surveillance Process, 96; TAC, 123, 125, 157; Thailand-Cambodia conflict and, 161; Trump administration and, 189; U.S. attendance at, 68; U.S. economic policy and, 60–61; U.S. military presence and, 24, 77; U.S.-ASEAN summit, 157. See also consensus; regionalism ASEAN Defence Ministers’ MeetingPlus (ADMM-Plus), 156, 157, 171, 190 ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA), 124 ASEAN Investment Area, 124 ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), 20, 92, 121, 123, 124, 135, 156, 190; 2010, 149, 159 ASEAN way, 19–21, 66 ASEAN+3, 95, 96, 104, 122, 124 ASEM (Asia-Europe Meeting), 124 Asia: definition of, 10; neglect of, 110 Asia Reassurance Initiative Act of 2018 and 2019, 189 Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM), 124 Asian Bond Fund, 124 Asian Bond Market Initiative, 96, 124 Asian Development Bank, 22 Asian financial crisis (1997). See financial crisis, Asian Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), 152, 158, 164, 189 Asian Monetary Fund (AMF), 94, 103 Asian way, 91 Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), 22, 23, 90–91, 96, 102, 104, 105, 122, 123, 145, 156, 157, 159, 190; during George W. Bush era, 121; Clinton and, 92–93; financial crisis and, 94; Gore’s

Index speech to, 100; Taiwan and, 89; Trump administration and, 187–88, 189 Aspin, Les, 75 Aung San Suu Kyi (ASSK), 158 austerity measures, 95 Austin, Lloyd, 209 Australia, 18, 171; alliance with, 12, 14–15, 49; as ally, 81; APEC and, 90; in ASEAN+3, 95, 124; during George W. Bush era, 121; coercion by China, 201; economic development in, 43; fear of Chinese aggression, 171; Five Eyes, 180; Indo-Pacific concept and, 209; INF-range missiles and, 186; military presence in, 134; New Zealand and, 12, 18, 24; Reagan administration and, 51; regional multilateralism and, 65; SDI and, 50; war on terror and, 110–13. See also Pacific; Pacific Islands; Quad coalition authoritarianism, 128, 151, 154, 159, 160, 161, 177. See also dictatorships autocracy, alliances as, 52 “Axis of Evil,” 112, 118, 127 Aziz, Rafidah, 100 Bader, Jeff, 147 Baker, James, 60, 77, 79, 80, 81, 84, 86, 90, 98 balance of financial terror, 173, 178 balance of power, 13, 45; allies and, 15; favorable, 166, 206; India and, 170; Indo-Pacific peace and, 206–7. See also détente, Sino-U.S. “balancing wheel” concept, 80 Bannon, Steve, 171, 176, 177–78, 184 Barr, Bill, 176 Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), 152, 164, 181, 182, 189, 190 Berlin Wall, fall of, 71. See also Bush, George H. W.; unipolar moment

273

Biden, Hunter, 178 Biden, Joe, 136, 148, 175, 178, 205; challenges facing, 195–96; favorable distribution of power and, 206; Quad and, 209 Blair, Dennis, 169 Boao Forum, 124–25 Bolton, John, 169, 175, 192 Bottom-Up Review, 75–76 Bourdain, Anthony, 157 Breitbart, 176 BRI (Belt and Road Initiative), 152, 164, 181, 182, 189, 190 BRICS Development Bank, 158 British Empire, 2 Brzezinski, Zbigniew, 36, 37, 38, 40 Budget Control Act of 2011, 140 bulwark, vital, 5, 211; under George W. Bush, 129; Reagan and, 69; Trump administration and, 195; during unipolar moment, 103; Washington’s self-image as, 197–98 Burma. See Myanmar Bush, George H. W., 8, 35, 71, 73; alliances and, 78–82; China and, 84–87, 114; Clinton’s emulation of, 93; East Asia Strategic Initiative report (1990), 92; financial crisis and, 143; military presence and, 77; post–Cold War foreign policy, 73; regionalism under, 90–92; riskwager balance, 103–4; Soviet Union’s collapse and, 72; Taiwan and, 48. See also unipolar moment Bush, George W., 8, 168, 200; alliances under, 103; ASEAN and, 121, 123– 24; Asian peace under, 113; Australia and, 121; “Axis of Evil,” 112, 118, 127; China and, 79, 84– 87, 98–100, 103, 106, 107, 113, 114–20; defense spending under, 108; democracy promotion and, 126; end of unipolar moment and, 106; favorable balance of power

274

Index

Bush, George W. (continued) and, 166, 206; focus on Islamic world, 107; focus on stability, 98; focus on terrorism, 107; “freedom fighter” theory of liberalism, 128; gap between self-conception and statecraft, 125–26; liberal wager, 100; Myanmar and, 127; neglect of Asia, 107; North Korea and, 112, 118, 122, 127; regionalism and, 113, 120, 121, 122–25, 130, 157, 187; risk-wager balance, 129–30; Vietnam and, 127; West Point speech, 108, 115. See also war on terror Bush doctrine, 108–9 Cambodia: aid to, 63; anticommunist groups in, 45; in ASEAN, 159–60; Australia and, 81; China and, 39, 63, 67, 160; democratization and, 97; Khmer Rouge, 39, 41, 63, 67, 69, 89; Reagan administration and, 67; Temple of Preah Vihear, 161; Thailand and, 162, 201; Vietnam and, 41, 43, 67, 68, 72, 89, 91–92, 104, 201 Campbell, Kurt, 83, 132, 136, 138, 146, 148 Canada, 180 Capitol insurrection, 205 Carter, Ash, 140, 141, 145, 153, 168 Carter, Jimmy, 7, 39, 103; ASEAN and, 66; China and, 36, 53; human rights and, 61, 62; North Korea nuclear crisis and, 83, 199; Reagan officials’ perception of, 47; Sino-U.S. relations and, 36, 39, 41; South Korea and, 48; Taiwan and, 47, 48; theory of Asian security, 38 CCP (Chinese Communist Party). See China; Chinese Communist Party

CFIUS (Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States), 179 Cha, Victor, 122 Chen Shui-bian, 120, 198 Cheney, Dick, 73, 77, 79, 114 Chesterman, Simon, 21 Chiang Kai-shek, 29 Chiang Mai Initiative, 96, 104, 124, 189 China: ADIZ, 140, 149–50; American left and, 30, 33; assertiveness in foreign policy, 152–54; authoritarianism in, 151, 154, 159, 160; communism in, 63 (See also Chinese Communist Party); conflicts of interest with, 203; core interests, 147–48, 174; Cultural Revolution, 31, 37; defense industry, 55; democracy suppression by, 85, 86, 98–100, 191, 192; democratization and, 97; Document No. 9, 151; economic growth and, 97, 115; economic relationships with, 55, 88, 105–6, 142–46, 173 (See also interdependence); economy of, 3, 14, 41, 54, 56, 97, 105; engagement with, 84–89, 113; four modernizations, 37, 40; as global power, 115; as good neighbor, 125, 130; Great Leap Forward, 31; human rights and, 39, 86, 88, 98– 100, 101, 115, 126, 159, 192 (See also Uighurs); as ideological threat, 170, 195; integration into international system, 103, 117–19, 124–25; intelligence compromises of, 150; intelligence sharing with, 69; Korean War and, 30; labor practices, 88; Leninism in, 175, 194; liberalization and, 86, 87, 115; military of, 130 (See also People’s Liberation Army); military posturing against, 169–70; military

Index relationship with, 88; modernization program, 56; Most Favored Nation status, 86, 88, 101; neoliberal approach to, 115; Nixon and, 29, 30, 31, 32, 39, 41, 54, 193; normalized relations with, 35, 198 (See also détente, Sino-U.S.); in NPR (2002), 109; nuclear weapons and, 30, 88; Opium Wars, 2; peaceful rise narrative, 119, 125, 129, 151–52; Permanent Normal Trade Relations status, 88, 101; possible war with, 76, 113; reform/ opening-up of, 37, 40–41; rehabilitation of image, 85, 99–100; relation with region, 96–97; restraint by, 154; rise of, 72, 113, 132, 162; shifts in conduct, 148; societal imbalances in, 84–85; strategic-competitor thinking about, 117; support for, 69; threat to U.S., 116–17; Tiananmen Square massacre, 85, 86, 98–100; totalitarianism of, 175; trade war with, 178–79, 181, 189; Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat, 124; U.S.’s relation with, 4, 117–20, 147–55 (See also détente, Sino-U.S.; rivalry, Sino-U.S.); U.S.-Taiwan relations and, 49; weapons and technology transfers to, 38, 55, 56–57, 69; “wolf warrior” diplomacy, 177, 183. See also Chinese Communist Party; Deng Xiaoping; détente, Sino-U.S.; People’s Liberation Army; rivalry, Sino-U.S.; territorial disputes; Uighurs; Xi Jinping “China Fantasy,” 84 China-U.S. Strategic Economic Dialogue (SED), 115 Chinese Communist Party (CCP), 29, 85; George W. Bush and, 99; economy and, 173; espionage against U.S., 177; intelligence

275

compromises of, 150, 151. See also China Christopher, Warren, 93 Chun Doo-Hwan, 63, 69 CIA, 55, 150, 151 cigarettes, 60 civil conflicts, 113–14. See also Myanmar Clark, Helen, 124 Clash of Civilizations (Huntington), 175 Clinton, Bill, 145; alliances under, 82– 84, 103; APEC and, 92–93; China and, 87–89, 101, 103, 114, 119; defense spending under, 75–77; democracy promotion and, 100– 102; favorable balance of power and, 166; human rights and, 100; international relations under, 75; liberalization wager, 115; military superiority and, 75–78, 103; national security and, 82, 88, 92; New Pacific Community, 75; North Korea and, 82–84; regionalism and, 92–97, 124; risk-wager balance, 103–4; Soviet Union’s collapse and, 72; Third Way project, 87. See also unipolar moment Clinton, Hillary, 6, 133, 135, 136, 158, 159 “coalition of the willing,” 121 coercion, 16, 180, 200, 201, 203 coercive posturing, 140–41 COFA (Compact of Free Association), 15, 49–50, 189 Cohn, Gary, 173 Cold War, 4, 43; ASEAN during, 23; balance of power and, 13; conflict after, 2; containment doctrine, 43– 44, 175; Democratic Party and, 138; end of (See Bush, George H. W.; unipolar moment); military superiority after, 38; Philippines during, 111. See also Reagan, Ronald; Soviet Union

276

Index

colonial legacy, 42, 81–82, 111 colonialism, 2. See also anticolonialism commerce, 17. See also economic development Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS), 179 Committee on the Present Danger: China (CPDC), 176 communism: Chinese, 63 (See also Chinese Communist Party); collapse of, 71 (See also unipolar moment); containment of, 43–44, 69, 175; Democrats and, 30–31; domino theory, 32. See also anticommunism; Bush, George H. W.; Chinese Communist Party (CCP); Cold War; Reagan, Ronald; Vietnam War Compact of Free Association (COFA), 15, 49–50, 189 competition, great-power, 167, 173–77, 205. See also rivalry, Sino-U.S. Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP), 146 conflict, gray zone of, 138 conflicts, armed. See war conflicts, internal, 4, 23; in Philippines, 111; U.S. and, 113–14. See also Myanmar Confucian tradition, 20 consensus, 20, 21, 66, 68, 159–60. See also ASEAN constructivist international-relations theory, 82 consumption, U.S., 61 containment doctrine, 43–44, 69, 175 core interests, 147–48, 174 corporatism, 17. See also economic development corruption, 85, 98, 100, 150 Cotton, Tom, 176 counterterrorism. See war on terror

COVID-19 pandemic, 174, 176–77, 182, 189, 190 CPTPP (Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for TransPacific Partnership), 146 crisis management, 162 CSCAP, 92, 121 Cui Tianka, 174, 179 Cultural Revolution, 31, 37 Davidson, Phil, 209 debt, 142, 145, 161–62; Asian financing of, 59; military superiority and, 59 decisions, conscious, 12 defense. See “military” entries Defense, Department of (DoD): on China, 153; Office of Net Assessment, 116–17, 170 Defense Intelligence Agency, 56 Defense Planning Guidance (DPG; 1992), 73–74, 75 defense spending: Bottom-Up Review, 75–76; Budget Control Act of 2011, 140; during George W. Bush era, 108; during Clinton era, 75–77; justification for, 76; military presence and, 80; military superiority and, 76; 9/11 and, 108; in post–Cold War transition years, 72–73; pressure to reduce, 139; Trump administration and, 165, 167; two-war standard and, 139, 140, 142, 167; war on terror and, 113, 129. See also military spending Defense Strategic Guidance (DSG; 2012), 133, 139–40 Defense Trilateral Talks (DTTs), 133– 34 deficit spending, 61, 165 democracy promotion: George W. Bush administration and, 126; Clinton administration and, 100– 102; economics and, 69, 101;

Index human rights and, 62; Obama administration and, 157, 159, 160–61; Reagan administration and, 62–65, 69; regionalism and, 155; Trump administration and, 191–94 democracy/democratization, 3, 6, 25, 72; anticommunism and, 62; Cambodia and, 97; China and, 97; China’s suppression of, 85, 86, 98– 100, 191, 192; dictatorships and, 62; economic stability and, 97; in Europe, 71; freedom-fighter blueprint for, 128; Hong Kong and, 191, 192; in Indonesia, 72, 97, 101– 2; liberalism and, 61; military presence and, 101; peace and, 22, 24, 65, 100; in Philippines, 72, 97, 128, 161; Reagan administration and, 62–70; in South Korea, 72, 97, 100, 101, 102; stability and, 156; in Taiwan, 72, 97, 101, 102; Thailand and, 72, 128, 161; Trump and, 191– 94; during unipolar moment, 97– 102; U.S. economic statecraft and, 129; using war to preserve, 126; war on terror and, 127–28, 129. See also governance, good Democratic Party, 30–31, 87, 138 democratic peace theory, 22, 24, 65, 100 Deng Xiaoping, 36–37, 71, 85, 98, 99; Sino-U.S. détente and, 56; on Vietnam, 40. See also China détente, 11, 15, 25 détente, Sino-U.S., 6, 11, 14, 16, 32– 33, 54; anti-Soviet imperative and, 68; George W. Bush administration and, 103, 114–20; Clinton administration and, 103; Deng and, 56; foundations of, 114; North Korea and, 127; Obama administration and, 147–55, 163, 203; rationalizing, 31; Reagan

277

administration and, 53–57; SinoVietnamese War and, 40; Soviet Union and, 34, 36, 41, 68; Taiwan and, 32–33, 34, 35, 37; terrorism and, 129; Trump and, 203; underappreciation of, 202–3; U.S. as bulwark of stability and, 69; as wager, 41; war on terror and, 116. See also Nixon, Richard deterrence, 11, 15–16, 192, 198; after 9/11, 108–9; nuclear weapons and, 133; SCO, 141; Trump administration and, 168–70. See also military presence developing world, 33, 82. See also South, global dictatorships, 62, 63, 69, 127 diplomacy, informal/unofficial, 20, 21, 103 diplomacy, opportunistic, 76 diplomacy, triangular, 32, 33, 35 distribution of power, favorable, 206 Donilon, Tom, 132, 139, 148, 156 DPG (Defense Planning Guidance; 1992), 73–74, 75 DSG (Defense Strategic Guidance; 2012), 133, 139–40 DTTs (Defense Trilateral Talks), 133–34 Duterte, Rodrigo, 161, 184, 187 EAEC (East Asia Economic Caucus), 94–95, 103 Eagleburger, Lawrence, 86 EAS (East Asia Summit), 22, 23, 121– 22, 124, 156, 157, 159, 171, 189, 190 East Asia Economic Caucus (EAEC), 94–95, 103 East Asia Economic Group, 91 East Asia Summit (EAS), 22, 23, 121–22, 124, 156, 157, 159, 171, 189, 190

278

Index

East Asian Free Trade Area proposal, 158–59 East China Sea, 113, 140, 148, 150, 154, 155. See also Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands East Timor, 201 economic decoupling, 179–82 economic development, 3, 58; in China, 14, 41, 56, 105; globalization and, 58; “miracle” economies, 16, 42; stability and, 16. See also globalization; growth, economic; interdependence; newly industrialized countries; South, global economic interdependence. See interdependence Economic Policy Council, 60 economic sovereignty, 93 economy, U.S., 132. See also financial crisis (2008) economy-first political strategies, 125 EDCA (Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement), 134 EEZ (exclusive economic zone), 149, 150 engagement, Obama administration and, 155 Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA), 134 Enterprise for ASEAN Initiative, 123 Esper, Mark, 165 ethnonationalism, 177, 204 exceptionalism, American, 7 exclusive economic zone (EEZ), 149, 150 executive orders (EOs), 101 exemplarism, 126, 159 export-led, growth, economic, 58 exports, 58 Fairbanks, Richard, 66 fascism, 171

FDI (foreign direct investment), Chinese, 180 fear, negative peace and, 11 Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), 30 Federal Reserve, U.S., 96, 143 Federated States of Micronesia, 15, 49–50, 158 financial crisis (2008), 3, 142, 146, 151, 161, 162, 201; in Asia, 131–32, 146; relation with China and, 143; responses to, 143; threat to Asian peace, 131 financial crisis, Asian (1997), 72, 93–96, 100, 121, 132, 144, 199, 200, 201; effects of, 104; interdependence and, 96; response to, 94, 95–96, 102, 105, 124 first-mover mentality, 108. See also deterrence Five Eyes, 180 5G technology, 179 FLEETEX-83, 45 flexible response doctrine, 44 Flournoy, Michèle, 138 FONOPs (freedom of navigation operations), 140 force: excessive reliance on, 203; preventive use of, 169. See also war, preventive Ford, Gerald, 7, 34–35, 41 Foreign Affairs, 79, 91, 115 foreign direct investment (FDI), Chinese, 180 Foreign Policy, 133 foreign policy, post–Cold War, 73 forward military presence. See military presence “free and open” rhetoric, 166. See also democracy/democratization free trade, 146 free trade agreements (FTAs), 164

Index freedom fighters, 128, 193 freedom of navigation operations (FONOPs), 140 FTAs (free trade agreements), 164 future: Asia’s, 165; economic rationale for peace and, 18–19 G-2, idea of, 153, 154 G7, 99 G20 summit (November 2008), 149 Gaffney, Frank, 176 Galtung, Johan, 10, 11 Gates, Robert, 135, 139, 149 genocide: in Asia, 2; in Cambodia, 39, 41, 63, 67, 69, 89; in Indonesia, 63; in Myanmar, 4, 23, 160, 161, 165, 191, 193, 201; Uighurs, 114, 126, 159, 179, 192, 193–94 George, Alexander, 11 globalization: anticolonialism and, 95; economic development and, 58; integrating China into, 87; interdependence and, 61 (See also interdependence); response to, 71 (See also liberalization); Soviet Union’s collapse and, 46. See also World Trade Organization Goh, Evelyn, 31 Gokhale, Vijay, 24 Goldman Sachs, 114 Goldwater, Barry, 35 Gore, Al, 100 governance, good, 22, 25, 129, 161, 194. See also democracy/ democratization; institutions governing coalitions, 17 GPC (great-power competition), 167, 173–77, 205. See also rivalry, SinoU.S. Graham, Lindsey, 169 gray zone of conflict, 138 Great Leap Forward, 31 great-power relations, new model of, 148

279

great-power competition (GPC), 167, 173–77, 205. See also rivalry, SinoU.S. Green, Mike, 66 Greenspan, Alan, 94 growth, economic, 43; access to U.S. market and, 59; in George W. Bush administration, 130; China and, 97, 115; export-led, 58; in Indonesia, 102; military presence and, 83; of Taiwan, 3, 42, 58; in U.S., 88. See also economic development; interdependence; newly industrialized countries Guam, 82, 158, 184 Gulf War, 73, 74, 77, 79, 80, 141 Hadley, Steve, 127 Haig, Alexander, 53, 54, 63 Hamilton-Hart, Natasha, 18 hegemon: Japan as, 52; U.S. as, vii, 58– 59, 198. See also military presence hegemon, aloof, 5, 28, 200, 211; under George H. W. Bush, 103; under George W. Bush, 129, 200; under Clinton, 103; under Reagan, 69 hegemonic structure, 18 hegemons: détente and, 120; multiple, in different domains, 103, 120 hegemony, liberal, 101 Heritage Foundation, 76 hierarchy, privileging of, 20 history, interpreting with reference to Asian peace, 202 Ho Chi Minh, 39 Holdridge, John, 54, 55 Hong Kong, 194; Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation and, 89; China and, 71, 147–48, 174; economy of, 3, 42, 58; suppression of democratic protests in, 191, 192 Hu Jintao, 118–19, 120, 149 Hua Guofeng, 37 Huawei, 179, 190

280

Index

human rights, 98, 159; Carter and, 62; China and, 39, 86, 88, 98–100, 101, 115, 126, 159, 192 (See also Uighurs); Clinton administration and, 100; democracy promotion and, 62; in Indonesia, 102; Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights, 157; North Korea and, 159, 191, 192; in Philippines, 39, 47; Reagan administration and, 63; rhetoric of, 61; in South Korea, 39, 47, 48; Trump administration and, 193 Humphrey, Hubert, 31 Huntington, Samuel, 175 ideological threat: China as, 176, 195. See also communism Ikenberry, G. John, 92 imbalance of power, 45. See also military superiority IMF (International Monetary Fund), 58, 94, 95, 96, 102, 105, 144 imperialism. See colonialism imperiousness, viii, 5, 50, 52, 69, 194, 198, 211 India, 171; in ASEAN+3, 95; balance of power and, 170; border dispute with China, 1, 3–4, 191, 195, 201; China and, 1, 89, 162, 195; Gokhale, 24; Indo-Pacific concept and, 209; Kargil War, 10; Line of Actual Control, 4, 89, 195; possibilities of, 209; Trump administration and, 170–71; U.S. and, 117. See also Indian Ocean region; Quad coalition Indian Ocean, military presence in, 209 Indian Ocean region, 10, 170, 209. See also India; Pakistan; Sri Lanka; and “Indo-Pacific” entries Indonesia, 95, 104, 201; BRI and, 182; China and, 89, 191; democratization

and, 72, 97, 101–2; economic growth in, 42, 102; financial crisis and, 94, 96; genocide in, 63; human rights in, 102; military presence and, 98; response to financial crisis (2008), 144; support for, 69 Indo-Pacific Business Forum, 188 Indo-Pacific concept, 117, 190, 208– 11. See also Asia; Australia; Indian Ocean region; New Zealand Indo-Pacific peace: balance of power and, 206–7; choosing strategy over rivalry, 205; military presence and, 206; military superiority and, 206– 7; principles for, 203–8; as referent narrative and, 207–8; underlying causes of insecurity and, 204 inequality, in U.S., 146 INF (Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces) Treaty, 47, 69, 169, 185–86 INF-range missiles, 186 institutions, 199–200; George W. Bush administration and, 123–25, 130; China’s enmeshment in, 103; domestic, 22; exclusively Asian, 91; without formal authority, 23; international relations and, 24; multilateral, 21–24, 152; neoliberalism’s perspective on, 66; Reagan administration and, 65; risks of war and, 190; Sinocentric, 152, 189. See also regionalism intelligence sharing, with China, 69 interdependence, 6, 16–19, 25, 58–61, 114, 130, 180; BRI and, 181; China and, 19, 89, 97, 103, 125, 146, 151, 152, 162, 163, 200; democratic peace and, 24; factors in, 119; financial crisis and, 96; globalization and, 61; growth of, 72; Obama administration and, 144–46; Reagan administration and, 57–61, 69; as risk vs. asset, 19; Sino-U.S. détente and, 41; U.S. and, 101, 120, 146,

Index 195; weaponized, 180. See also economic development; globalization; growth, economic interest rates, 95–96 interests, core, 147–48, 174 Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights, 157 Inter-Korean Liaison Office, 1 Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, 47, 69, 169, 185–86 International Atomic Energy Agency, 103 International Court of Justice, 161 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 58, 94, 95, 96, 102, 105, 144 international relations: in Clinton era, 75; multilateral institutions and, 21–24 investment in Asia, U.S., 144 Iraq, 76, 77, 107, 108, 121, 200. See also war on terror Islamic world, focus on, 107. See also war on terror isolationism, 138 Jackson, Henry “Scoop,” 33 JAM-GC (Joint Concept for Access and Maneuver in the Global Commons), 141 Japan, 83, 87, 93, 171; Agreed Framework and, 84; alliances with, 12, 14–15, 47, 52–53, 79–80; AMF initiative, 94; in ASEAN+3, 95; during George W. Bush era, 121; China and, 41, 71–72, 135–36, 152, 162, 171, 180, 189, 201; deterrence and, 133; DTTS and, 133–34; as economic competitor, 79; economy of, 3, 42, 58, 79; financial crisis and, 105; as hegemon, 52; imperial legacy, 2, 94; Indo-Pacific concept and, 209; INF-range missiles and, 186; investment in U.S., 59; military construction projects in,

281

134; military of, 45, 53, 111; military superiority and, 53; North Korea and, 122, 185; Reagan administration and, 52–53, 69; regional multilateralism and, 65; Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, 130, 136, 149–50, 155; South Korea and, 4, 24, 71, 123; Soviet Union and, 43, 47; TCOG and, 122; trade with, 60–61; Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat, 124; Trump and, 183, 184, 185; unipolar moment and, 72; U.S. dependence on, 52–53; war on terror and, 110–13. See also Quad coalition Japan as Number One (Vogel), 52 Jiang Zemin, 118–19 job loss, in U.S., 146 John, Eric, 122 Johnson, Lyndon B., 30 Joint Concept for Access and Maneuver in the Global Commons (JAM-GC), 141 Kaifu, Toshiki, 87 Kargil War, 10 Kashmir, 10 KEDO (Korean Peninsula Energy Development Organization), 84 Kennan, George, 175 Kennedy, John F., 30, 44 Kerry, John, 145, 147 Khmer Rouge, 39, 41, 63, 67, 69, 89 Khrushchev, Nikita, 32 Kim Il Sung, 35, 83, 199. See also North Korea Kim Jong-il, 106. See also North Korea Kim Jong-un, 1, 168, 169, 172, 185, 192, 195. See also North Korea Kim Yo-jong, 1 Kirkpatrick, Jean, 62 Kissinger, Henry, 31, 32–33, 34, 54, 86, 174 kleptocracy, 3, 128, 160

282

Index

Koizumi, Junichiro, 111 Korean Peninsula, 18; during George W. Bush era, 113; Inter-Korean Liaison Office attack, 1–2; military presence on, 48, 77, 103; stability on, 198; Trump administration and, 172. See also North Korea; South Korea Korean Peninsula Energy Development Organization (KEDO), 84 Korean War, 30, 44 Kozak, Michael, 193 Kushner, Jared, 173–74 Kuwait, 73. See also Gulf War Lakatos, Imre, 27 Lake, Tony, 88, 89, 101 Lancang-Mekong Cooperation, 152 Laos, 160 Laxalt, Paul, 64 Lee Hsien Loong, 190 Lee Kuan Yew, 14, 16 Lee Myung-bak, 134–35 Leninism, 175, 194 Levy, Jack, 22 liberal international-relations theory, 82 liberalism: democracy and, 61; equated with rationality, 192; “freedom fighter” theory of, 128; globalization and, 71; as meaningful source of regional peace, 161; spread of, 107 liberalization, 86, 101, 102, 124, 126 liberalization wager, 114, 115 Lilley, James, 47 Line of Actual Control, 4, 89, 195 Liu Huaqiu, 89, 101 Lord, Winston, 86, 87 Lower Mekong Initiative, 189 Ma Ying-jeou, 144 Made in China 2025 initiative, 180

Mahbubani, Kishore, 21 major power relations, new model of, 148 Malaysia, 91; Asian values and, 19; Chinese pressure on, 191; EAEC, 94; Gore’s speech in, 100; “miracle” economy of, 42; Obama administration and, 157, 160; response to financial crisis (2008), 144 Manhard, Philip, 50 Mann, James, 84, 98 Mao Tse-tung, 29, 30, 37; death of, 37; foreign policy of, 32, 33; as impediment to normalization, 35; Soviet Union and, 31–32; U.S. and, 32 Marcos, Ferdinand, 49, 64, 69. See also Philippines Maritime Silk Road Fund, 152 market. See interdependence Marshall, Andrew, 34, 109–10, 168 Marshall Islands, 15, 49–50, 158 Mastanduno, Michael, 112 Mattis, James, 165, 166, 167, 170, 183, 209 McFaul, Michael, 138 McMaster, H. R., 192 MFN (Most Favored Nation) trading status, 86, 88, 101 Micronesia, 15, 49–50, 158 Middle East, 109, 138, 174, 200. See also war on terror military balance, 38. See also balance of power military deployments, 106. See also war on terror military power, U.S., 132. See also military superiority military presence, 5, 13–14, 25, 43–46; alliances and, 15, 81; ASEAN and, 24; centrality of, 72; coercive posturing, 140–41; cost-sharing and, 80, 184; defense spending and,

Index 80; democratization and, 101; economic engagement strategies with China and, 113; economic growth and, 83; economic-peace arguments and, 17; in Indian Ocean, 209; Indo-Pacific peace and, 206; on Korean Peninsula, 48, 77, 168–69; military construction projects, 134; military superiority and, 76, 142, 166; negative peace and, 198; Nye Initiative and, 83; Obama and, 140; peace and, 36, 140; in Philippines, 81; in Taiwan, 35; Trump and, 165– 73, 183; unipolar moment and, 78; war on terror and, 110, 113, 129; withdrawal of, 32–33. See also alliances military spending. See defense spending military superiority, U.S., 38, 43–46, 53; alliances and, 78; Asian peace and, 142; under George W. Bush, 103, 109; China’s challenge to, 117; under Clinton, 75–78, 103; after Cold War, 38; debt and, 59; DPG 1992, 73–74; effects of, 163; IndoPacific peace and, 206–7; liberal hegemony and, 101; military presence and, 76, 142, 166; military spending and, 76; need for allies and, 107–14; need for forward presence, 166, 171; offensive action and, 110; pivot to Asia and, 138–42; in post–Cold War transition years, 73; preserving, 76, 162; as qualitative arms competition, 141; Reagan administration and, 59; as threat to peace, 103; Trump administration and, 166, 167; twowar standard and, 139, 140, 142, 167; unipolar moment and, 78. See also alliances; unipolar moment minilateralism, 21, 22, 121, 123. See also Six-Party Talks

283

Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR), 88–89 Mnuchin, Steven, 173 modernization theory, 42. See also economic development Mohamad, Mahathir, 91, 94, 95 Mongolia, 180 Monten, Jonathan, 126 Moon Jae-in, 185 Morgenthau, Hans, 25 Moro Islamic Liberation Front, 111–12 Most Favored Nation (MFN) status, 86, 88, 101 MTCR (Missile Technology Control Regime), 88–89 mujahideen, 55 Mullen, Mike, 135 multilateralism, 90, 209; assertive, 101; Boao Forum, 124–25; during George W. Bush administration, 121; institutionalized, 92, 123; during Obama administration, 155– 56; regional, 65 (See also regionalism); regionalism undermined by, 68; Six-Party Talks, 118, 121, 122, 127; Trump administration and, 188–89. See also Quad coalition Myanmar, 127; civil war in, 23, 162; coup in, 4; genocide in, 4, 23, 160, 161, 165, 191, 193, 201; measures of good governance in, 161; Obama administration and, 158; Saffron Revolution, 126 mythologizing, viii Najib Razak, 157, 160 narrative, referent, 208 national border, fixed, 73. See also territorial disputes National Defense Strategy (NDS; 2005), 116 National Defense Strategy (NDS; 2018), 167, 174

284

Index

national security: Clinton and, 82, 88, 92; democracy promotion and, 100; Democratic Party and, 138; Trump and, 164–65 National Security Decision Directive (NSDD) 32, 46, 60, 62, 66, 67 National Security Decision Directive (NSDD) 185, 66, 67 National Security Strategy (NSS; 1994), 75, 87 National Security Strategy (NSS; 2002), 107, 108, 109–10, 115, 116 National Security Strategy (NSS; 2017), 174, 188–89 nativism, 166, 183, 184 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), 21, 44 Navarro, Peter, 176 NDS (National Defense Strategy; 2005), 116 NDS (National Defense Strategy; 2018), 174 NEAPSM (Northeast Asia Peace and Security Mechanism), 123 neoconservatism: blurring of power and values, 107; end of unipolar moment and, 106; features of, 106; regionalism and, 120 neoconservatives, 62, 166. See also Reagan, Ronald neo-Leninism, 177 neoliberal moment, 86 neoliberalism, 62; approach to China and, 115; during George W. Bush administration, 114; Democratic Party and, 87; perspective on regional institutions, 66 New Pacific Community, 75 New York Times, 73 New Zealand, 18, 124; alliance with, 49, 51; in ASEAN+3, 95, 124; Australia and, 12, 18, 24, 81; BRI and, 182; China and, 189; economic

development in, 43; Five Eyes, 180; Reagan administration and, 51, 69. See also Pacific; Pacific Islands newly industrialized countries (NICs), 42; anticommunism in, 58; Asian financial crisis and, 72; need for U.S. military presence, 77; orientation toward China, 97; search for alternative to U.S., 119. See also ASEAN; economic development; growth, economic; Hong Kong; Japan; South, global; South Korea; Taiwan NICs (newly industrialized countries). See newly industrialized countries 9/11, 106, 107. See also Bush, George W.; war on terror Nixon, Richard, 7, 99; China and, 29, 30, 31, 32, 39, 41, 54, 193; Democratic Party and, 31; Soviet Union and, 32; Taiwan and, 33; triangular diplomacy, 35 normalization, diplomatic, 34. See also détente, Sino-U.S. norms, shared, 19–20. See also ASEAN way North, global, 42, 61 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 21, 44 North Korea: Agreed Framework, 83– 84, 122; alliances and, 82; George W. Bush administration and, 118, 122, 127; China and, 117–18; Clinton administration and, 82–84; human rights and, 159, 191, 192; Japan and, 122; justification for defense budget and, 76; Kim regime, 118, 127; military of, 47; military posturing against, 168–69; military presence and, 78; in NPR (2002), 109; nuclear crisis (1994), 72, 76–77, 78, 83, 102–3, 113, 199; nuclear crisis (2017), 185, 191–92,

Index 195, 199; nuclear weapons program, 3, 80, 84, 107, 118, 121, 123, 127, 130, 135, 154, 169, 172, 178, 204 (See also Six-Party Talks); Sino-U.S. détente and, 127; South Korea and, 1, 21, 112, 122, 134–35, 137, 154, 162, 198; Trump administration and, 168, 169, 172–73, 196; U.S. engagement with, 122; during war on terror, 112. See also Kim Il Sung; Kim Jong-un Northeast Asia Peace and Security Mechanism (NEAPSM), 121, 123 NPR (Nuclear Posture Review; 2002), 109 NSC, 118, 122; Indo-Pacific framework document, 193; Myanmar and, 158; Trump administration and, 165–66, 167, 168, 170 NSDD (National Security Decision Directive) 32, 46, 60, 62 NSDD (National Security Decision Directive) 185, 66, 67 NSS (National Security Strategy; 1994), 75, 87 NSS (National Security Strategy; 2002), 107, 108, 109–10, 115, 116 NSS (National Security Strategy; 2017), 174, 188–89 nuclear policy, U.S., 69 Nuclear Posture Review (NPR; 2002), 109 nuclear proliferation, U.S. opposition to, 198 nuclear weapons, 45–46, 141, 199; China and, 30, 88; deterrence and, 15, 133 (See also deterrence); during Reagan administration, 69–70; Soviet Union and, 47. See also Cold War; North Korea Nye, Joseph, 77–78, 92, 174, 197 Nye Initiative, 83

285

Obama, Barack, 4, 8, 168; alliances under, 133–38; on Asia strategy, 132–33; democracy promotion and, 157, 159, 160–61; détente with China and, 147–55, 163, 203; economic relation with China and, 142–46; election of, 131; engagement and, 155; favorable balance of power and, 166; interdependence in Asia and, 144– 46; military presence and, 140; military superiority and, 138–42; multilateralism and, 155–56; Myanmar and, 158; North Korea and, 137; possibility of conflict and, 162; regionalism and, 155–61; riskwager balance, 161–63; South Korea and, 134–35; TPP and, 145– 46; Vietnam and, 135, 157–58. See also pivot Oceania, 23. See also individual countries OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development), 65 offensive, 109–10 offensive signaling games, 140–42 Office of Net Assessment (ONA), 116– 17, 170 Office of Policy Planning, 65; The Elements of the China Challenge, 194 offshoring, 146 oligarchy, 204 ONA (Office of Net Assessment), 116– 17, 170 One Belt, One Road initiative, 174 operating system, Asia’s, 132 Operation Enduring Freedom, 107, 111. See also war on terror Operation Iraqi Freedom, 107, 111. See also war on terror Opium Wars, 2 oppression, 98, 194. See also human rights; Rohingya; Uighurs

286

Index

Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), 65 “Outpost of Tyranny,” 127 Overseas Private Investment Corporation, 55 Pacific, 49, 210. See also individual countries Pacific Economic Cooperation Council (PECC), 65 Pacific Islands, 210; COFA, 49–50; neglect of, 81; U.S. sphere of influence in, 148. See also Australia; Marshall Islands; Micronesia; New Zealand; Palau Pacific Islands Forum (PIF), 22, 23 Pacific power paradox, 5, 7; recognition of, 211 Pacific power, U.S. as, viii, 4 Pakistan, 10. See also Indian Ocean region Palau, 15, 49–50, 158 Parts Unknown (television series), 157–58 past, reassessing, 202 Paulson, Hank, 114, 115 Pax Americana, narratives about, 104 peace: conscious decisions and, 12; defining, 10–12; democracy and, 22, 24, 65, 100; economic policy and, 60; measuring, 10–12; military presence and, 140 peace, Asian: academic debates surrounding, vii; beginning of, 2–3, 29 (See also Mao Tse-tung; Nixon, Richard); concept of, 9–12; durability of, 211; economic rationales for, 16–19; institutional rationales for, 21–24 (See also regionalism); layered understanding of, 24–25, 26; multiple causes of, 12–13; normative rationales for,

19–21; power-based rationales for, 13–16; precarity of, 3–5, 196; search for single cause of, 25; statecraft and, 25; sustaining, viii, 5; threats to, 4, 6; U.S. hegemony and, vii. See also stability peace, economic, 16–19 peace, negative/shallow, 11, 15, 42, 137, 167, 198 peace, positive, 11–12 peace dividend, 72, 80 “peace through strength,” 43, 165–66, 167. See also military presence; military superiority, U.S. peacelessness, organized, 11 PECC (Pacific Economic Cooperation Council), 65 Pelosi, Nancy, 101 Pence, Mike, 170, 193 Pentagon, 55. See also “military” entries People’s Liberation Army (PLA), 55, 85; A2/AD, 117, 139, 141, 151; aid to, 57; ambitions in South Asia, 210; condition of, 40; harassment of U.S. ships, 149; intelligence compromises of, 150; modernization of, 54, 118, 139, 141, 177. See also China Permanent Normal Trade Relations status, 88, 101, 127 Perry, William, 38, 88 Philippines: alliances with, 14–15, 49, 55, 81, 136–37; anti-Americanism in, 81–82; anticolonialism in, 81– 82; anticommunism in, 45, 63–64; authoritarianism in, 161; BRI and, 182; China and, 136–37, 152, 162, 180, 198, 201; colonial legacy and, 111; coup attempts in, 128; democratization and, 65, 72, 97, 128, 161; Duterte, 161, 184, 187; EDCA and, 134; financial crisis and, 144; human rights in, 39, 47; imperialism in, 82; internal conflicts

Index in, 111–12; military presence in, 81, 98, 134; Moro Islamic Liberation Front, 111–12; Obama administration and, 135; Scarborough Shoal and, 134, 136, 137–38, 155, 160, 198; selfdetermination in, 62; Subic Bay, 77, 81; war on terror and, 110–13, 128 PIF (Pacific Islands Forum), 22, 23 Pillsbury, Michael, 34 pivot, 132; alliances and, 133–38; liberal intergovernmentalism and, 156; military superiority and, 138– 42; proclamation of, 133; rebranded as rebalance, 140; TPP and, 145– 46; views of, 153–54. See also Obama, Barack PLA (People’s Liberation Army). See China; People’s Liberation Army Pol Pot, 67. See also Cambodia; Khmer Rouge policy: Asian peace as referent narrative in, 207–8; insecurity and, 204; Pacific power paradox and, 7; risk-wager balance, 25–28; uncertainty and, 26. See also statecraft Pompeo, Mike, 175, 176, 188, 193, 205 posturing, 168–70, 172 Pottinger, Matt, 176 Powell, Colin, 73, 101, 117 Powell, Dina, 173 power, 18, 107. See also balance of power; hegemon power, imbalance of, 45. See also military superiority power-based rationales for Asian peace, 13–16 PRC. See China preeminence, 166–67, 206. See also military superiority probabilistic reasoning, 26

287

Proliferation Security Initiative (PSI), 121 propaganda, viii provocation, 168–73, 198. See also Reagan, Ronald PSI (Proliferation Security Initiative), 121 P’yo˘ngyang. See North Korea Quad coalition, 170, 171, 188, 209 Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR; 2006), 108 Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR; 2010), 139 racism, 171, 176, 195 RAND Corporation, 34 rapprochement. See détente Ratner, Ely, 136, 156 RCEP (Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership), 145–46, 158, 182, 189, 190 Reagan, Ronald, 7, 35, 43, 168, 198, 203; alliances under, 46–53; approach to communism, 126; ASEAN and, 65–68; Australia and, 51; Cambodia and, 67; China and, 38, 53–57, 67; Clinton’s emulation of, 93; democracy and, 62–70; economic policies of, 52, 60–61; favorable balance of power and, 166; “freedom fighter” theory of liberalism, 128; human rights and, 61, 63; interdependence and, 57–61, 69; Japan and, 52–53, 69; Marcos and, 64; military strategy of, 43–46; New Zealand and, 51; NSDD 32, 46; provocations against Soviet Union, 109–10; regionalism and, 65–68, 187; risk-wager balance of, 68–70; SDI and, 47; South Korea and, 48, 51–52; Taiwan and, 48–49, 55. See also Cold War Reagan Doctrine, 45, 62

288

Index

reassurance, strategic, 150 rebalance, 132, 140. See also Obama, Barack; pivot reciprocity, 188–89 reductionism, 13 redundancy, 123 referent narrative, 208 Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP), 145–46, 158, 182, 189, 190 Regional Maritime Security Initiative, 121 regionalism, 6, 19, 25, 103, 199–200; America marginalized from, 189; anticolonialism and, 95; APEC, 90–91; during George H. W. Bush era, 90–92; during George W. Bush era, 113, 120, 121, 122–25, 130, 157, 187; China and, 105; Clinton administration and, 92–97, 124; democracy promotion and, 155; EAEC, 94–95; fracturing of, 159, 190–91; functionalizing, 156; growth of, 72; multilateralism and, 68; neoconservatism and, 120; NSDD 185, 66; Obama administration and, 155–61; Reagan and, 65–68, 187; redundancy and, 123; settling Cambodian conflict and, 91–92; Trump administration and, 182, 187–91; U.S. and, 91, 97, 124, 152; war on terror and, 120. See also ASEAN; ASEAN way; institutions; multilateralism; Six-Party Talks religious freedom, 193 Republican Party, 47, 138 restraint, culture of, 20 Rhodes, Ben, 132, 156 Rice, Condoleezza, 107, 112, 114, 115, 120, 121, 122, 126, 175 Rice, Susan, 138, 147, 148, 153 risk: accepting, 26; George W. Bush’s, 103–4; Clinton’s, 103–4; defense cuts and, 77; economic

interdependence as, 19; evaluating, 26; gap between perceived and actual, 27; inconsistencies in democracy promotion and, 65; manipulating, 11; military presence and, 44, 77; negative peace and, 11; Obama and, 161–63, 203; Reagan and, 68–70; self-awareness of, 27; Trump and, 203 risk aversion, 76 risk-wager balance, 25–28, 211; George H. W. Bush’s, 103–4; George W. Bush’s, 129–30; Clinton’s, 103–4; Obama’s, 161–63; Reagan’s, 68–70. See also risk; wagers risk-wager imbalance, Trump’s, 194–96 rivalry, Sino-U.S., 173–77, 181, 195, 201, 202–3; economic, 177–82; Indo-Pacific and, 210–11; political, 173–77; popular narratives of, 30. See also great-power competition Roh Moo-hyun, 112 Roh Tae-woo, 80 Rohingya, 4, 23, 160, 161, 165, 191, 193, 201 Ross, Robert, 14 Rubin, Robert, 94 Rumsfeld, Donald, 109, 110, 114, 117, 121, 127–28 Russia: arms race with, 169; postSoviet, 72 S&ED (Strategic and Economic Dialogue), 143 Sakakibara, Eisuke, 94 SALT II (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks), 36 sanctimony, 126, 127 Scarborough Shoal, 134, 136, 137–38, 155, 160, 198 Schlesinger, James, 34 SCM (Security Consultative Meeting), 48

Index SCO (Strategic Capabilities Office), 141 Scowcroft, Brent, 73, 77, 99 SDI (Strategic Defense Initiative), 45, 47, 50 security. See “military” entries security community, 11–12 Security Consultative Meeting (SCM), 48 SED (China-U.S. Strategic Economic Dialogue), 115 Senghaas, Dieter, 11 Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, 130, 136, 149–50, 155. See also East China Sea sensitive reconnaissance operations (SRO), 150 September 11, 2001, 106, 107. See also Bush, George W.; war on terror Severino, Rodolfo, Jr., 105–6 Shanghai Communiqué, 29, 34 Shanghai Cooperation Organization, 158 Shangri-La Dialogue, 121, 156, 170, 190 Shultz, George, 46, 50, 52, 53, 54, 56, 66; ASEAN attendance by, 67–68; on Marcos, 64 Siachen Glacier, 10 signaling, 168–70, 172 Singapore, 16, 77, 82, 190; Asian values and, 19; BRI and, 182; China’s relation with, 89; economic “miracle” in, 3, 42; military presence and, 98; need for U.S. military presence, 77 Sino-Vietnamese War, 39–40 Six-Party Talks (6PT), 118, 121, 127 Skinner, Kiron, 175, 194 Smoke, Richard, 11 Solomon, Richard, 79 South, global, 61, 82. See also economic development; newly industrialized countries; Third World

289

South China Sea, 135, 140–41, 149, 154, 155, 159, 174; during George W. Bush era, 113; China and, 4, 125, 148, 150, 190, 191; disputes over, 130; Scarborough Shoal, 134, 136, 137–38, 155, 160, 198; U.S. military presence and, 134 South Korea: Agreed Framework and, 83–84, 122; alliances with, 12, 14– 15, 52, 80; in ASEAN+3, 95; BRI and, 182; Carter and, 48; China and, 89, 180, 189; democratization in, 65, 72, 97, 100, 101, 102; deterrence and, 133; dictatorship in, 63; DTTS and, 133–34; economic growth of, 3, 42, 58; financial crisis and, 94, 96, 144; human rights in, 39, 47, 48; INF-range missiles and, 186; Inter-Korean Liaison Office, 1; Japan and, 4, 24, 71, 123; military construction projects in, 134; North Korea and, 2, 21, 122, 162; North Korean attacks on, 1, 134–35, 154, 198; Obama administration and, 134–35; Reagan administration and, 48, 51–52; relation with, 83; selfdetermination in, 62; TCOG and, 123; trade with, 60; Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat, 124; Trump and, 183, 184, 185; U.S. intervention and, 137; war on terror and, 112 sovereignty, 20, 23 Soviet Union: in Afghanistan, 55; balance of power and, 13, 38; China and, 31–32, 35, 37, 43; collapse of, 46, 71, 72 (See also Bush, George H. W.; unipolar moment); containment of, 62–63; Japan and, 43, 47; Mao and, 31–32; military superiority and, 43–46; provocations of, 109–10; SALT II and, 36; Sino-U.S. détente and, 31, 34, 36, 41, 68; Sino-U.S. relations

290

Index

Soviet Union (continued) and, 30; Vietnam and, 37, 39, 40, 63; war paranoia in, 199. See also Cold War; Reagan, Ronald spheres of influence, 148, 152, 158 Spratly Islands, 169 Sri Lanka, 10 SRO (sensitive reconnaissance operations), 150 stability: alliances and, 133; George W. Bush’s focus on, 98; democracy and, 156; development and, 3; economic, 97; sources of, 6 (See also alliances; democracy/democratization; détente, Sino-U.S.; military presence; regionalism); sustaining, 211. See also Pacific power paradox; peace, Asian statecraft, viii, 7; informed, vii; Pacific power narrative for, 6–7; relating Asian peace to, 13, 25. See also policy Steinberg, Jim, 147 Stevenson, Adlai, 30 stimulus, 143 Strategic and Economic Dialogue (S&ED), 143 Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT II), 36 Strategic Capabilities Office (SCO), 141 Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), 45, 47, 50 strategic primacy, 166–67. See also military superiority strategic reassurance, 147, 150 Subic Bay, 77, 81 Suharto, 95, 102, 104, 201 sultanism, 192. See also Trump, Donald Summers, Larry, 94, 96, 173 superpower, imperious. See imperiousness supply chains, 145, 178. See also interdependence

Suri, Jeremi, 73 Syria, strikes against, 169–70 TAC (Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia), 123, 125, 157 Taiwan, 30, 35, 198; abandonment of, 47; alliances with, 15; ambiguity for, 14; APEC and, 89; arms sales to, 48–49, 120, 169, 172; George W. Bush administration and, 120; Carter and, 47, 48; China and, 3, 21, 32–33, 71, 89, 97, 120, 144, 147, 167, 174, 198; democratization and, 72, 97, 101, 102; economic growth of, 3, 42, 58; military presence in, 35; political independence of, 3, 120, 130; Reagan administration and, 48–49, 55; Sino-U.S. détente and, 32–33, 34, 35, 37 Taiwan Relations Act of 1979, 48 Taiwan Strait, 113, 118–20, 207 Taiwan Strait crisis (1996), 89, 101, 116 Taliban, 55 talk, cheap, 125 Tamils, 10 tariffs, 52, 178–79, 184. See also trade war with China Taylor, Brendan, 120 TCOG (Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group), 84, 122, 133 technology transfers, to China, 38, 55, 56–57 Temple of Preah Vihear, 161 territorial disputes, 144, 152, 183; China and, 125, 147–48, 149–50, 164; fracturing of regionalism and, 159–60; Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, 130, 136, 149–50, 155; Sion-Indian, 1, 3–4, 191, 195, 201; Temple of Preah Vihear, 161; Tibet, 101, 147, 174. See also East China Sea; Hong Kong; South China Sea; Taiwan

Index terrorism: as focus of national security, 107; Sino-U.S. détente and, 129. See also war on terror Thailand: alliances with, 49; BRI and, 182; Cambodia and, 162, 201; coup in, 128; democracy and, 72, 128, 161; financial crisis and, 93–94, 96; as major non-NATO ally, 128–29; “miracle” economy of, 42; Obama administration and, 157; response to financial crisis (2008), 144; Temple of Preah Vihear, 161; war on terror and, 110, 128 Thein Sein, 158 Third Offset Strategy, 140, 151, 153 Third Way project, 87 Third World, 33, 82. See also South, global Thompson, Mark, 128 Tiananmen Square massacre, 85, 86, 98–100 Tibet, 101, 147, 174 Tillerson, Rex, 173, 192 tobacco lobby, 60 Tonnesson, Stein, 12 totalitarianism, 61, 175. See also anticommunism; communism Tow, William, 90 TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership), 144– 46, 157, 158, 182, 189 trade deals, 146 trade deficits, 142, 178, 184 trade sanctions, 52 trade surplus, Chinese, 142 trade war with China, 178–79, 181, 189 Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), 144– 46, 157, 158, 182, 189 Treasury Department, U.S., 95 Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia (TAC), 123, 125, 157 Trilateral Cooperation Secretariat, 124, 189

291

Trilateral Coordination and Oversight Group (TCOG), 84, 122, 133 Trump, Donald, 8; alliances under, 183–87; APEC and, 187–88, 189; ASEAN and, 189; Asia’s future and, 165; China and, 165, 173–83, 188, 190, 192, 195, 203; continuity in U.S. foreign policy under, vii–viii; on COVID-19 pandemic, 176; defense spending and, 165, 167; democracy in Asia and, 191–94; election of, 164; foreign policy approach, 164–65; human rights under, 193; India and, 170–71; Kim Jong-un and, 192; military presence and, 165–73, 183; multilateralism and, 188–89; North Korea and, 168, 169, 172–73, 196; regionalism and, 182, 187–91; risk-acceptance and, 203; risk-wager imbalance, 194–96; trade war with China, 178– 79, 181, 189; Xi and, 169–70, 174, 175, 192 trust, among Asian states, 3 Tucker, Nancy Bernkopf, 32–33 two-war standard, 139, 140, 142, 167 Uighurs, 114, 126, 159, 179, 192, 193–94 uncertainty, 26 unilateralism: American, 124; Myanmar and, 127; perception of, 120–21 unipolar moment, 13, 38, 71, 204; alliances and, 78–84; democracy during, 97–102; end of, 106 (See also Bush, George W.; neoconservatism); Gulf War, 74; military and, 78; Pacific Islands during, 81. See also Bush, George H. W.; Clinton, Bill; military superiority United Kingdom, 180

292

Index

United Nations, 92, 201 United States: Asian peace and, 3–4, 6; as Asia’s most volatile actor, 195; colonial exploitation by, 2 (See also Philippines); confrontation with China, 4; development in Asia and, 42; economic relation with China, 142–46; exclusion of, 97; goals of, vs. Asian peace, 202; as Pacific power, viii, 4 (See also Pacific power paradox); roles in Asia, 5 (See also bulwark, vital; hegemon, aloof; imperiousness); as tangential to Asian affairs, 200–202; territorial holdings, 4 (See also Guam) United States, economic growth in, 88 values: Asian, 20 (See also ASEAN way); blurred with power, 107 Vietnam: George W. Bush administration and, 127; Cambodia and, 41, 43, 67, 68, 72, 89, 91–92, 104, 201; China and, 16, 30, 31, 39– 40, 89, 152, 162, 191, 198; Obama administration and, 135, 157–58; Permanent Normal Trade Relations status, 127; post-Soviet reality of, 92; Soviet Union and, 37, 39, 40, 63; withdrawal from, 33–34, 39; WTO and, 127 Vietnam War, 32 vindicationism, 126 violence: in Asia, 2; literal, 10; structural, 10–11. See also war Visiting Forces Agreement, 184 Vogel, Ezra, 52 volatility, Asian, viii wagers, 26–28; alliances, 46; George H. W. Bush’s, 86; George W. Bush’s, 100, 103–4; choosing to make, 27– 28; Clinton’s, 75, 103–4, 115; on liberalization, 114, 115; military

presence and, 44; Obama’s, 161–63; Reagan’s, 43–70; Sino-U.S. détente as, 41; underlying war on terror, 126 Wall Street Journal, 169 Waltz, Kenneth, 25 war: absence of, vii, 6, 196 (See also peace, Asian; stability); cheap talk and, 125; creating risks of, 168–73; justification for defense budget and, 76; measuring, 9–10; prevention of, 137; regional institutions and, 190; risks of, 3, 190; two-war standard, 139, 140, 142, 167 war, preventive, 108–9. See also force: preventive use of war on terror, 139, 140, 200; alliances and, 110–13; China and, 115, 116; democracy and, 127–28, 129; effects of, 106, 131, 132; military presence in Asia and, 110, 113, 129; preparations for, 107; regionalism and, 120; spending during, 108, 113 (See also defense spending); Thailand and, 110, 128; wager underlying, 126. See also Afghanistan; Bush, George W.; Iraq Washington Consensus, 58, 96 weapons transfers, to China, 55, 56–57. See also arms sales/transfers Weinberger, Caspar, 44, 47, 50, 53 “wolf warrior” diplomacy, 177, 183 Wolfowitz, Paul, 47, 53, 54, 63, 73, 114, 193 Wong Kan Seng, 77 Work, Robert, 153 World Bank, 58, 86 World Trade Organization (WTO), 88, 119, 127, 181, 188 World War II, 2, 53 Wray, Christopher, 180 WTO (World Trade Organization), 88, 119, 127, 181, 188

Index Wu, Joseph, 172 Wu Xinbo, 132

Xinjiang, 147, 174, 179, 192, 194. See also Uighurs

Xi Jinping, 145, 148, 150, 151, 154, 157, 160, 174; on CCP and economy, 173; economic vision of, 180–81; ideological purification by, 177; security and, 180; summit with Obama, 153; Trump and, 169–70, 174, 175, 192

Yang Jiechi, 149, 174 Zakaria, Fareed, 43 Zhou Enlai, 32, 37 Zoellick, Robert, 124 zone of peace, 11–12 ZTE, 179

293