For much of the U.S. foreign-policy establishment, there is no more sacred word than “alliances.” They are regarded as a continuing symbol of all that is good about U.S. foreign policy—a testament to the success and strength of American values. These friendly countries stand as a key validation of American self-identity. Logically enough, they are also nice places to visit (with many charming locals who fittingly speak excellent English). It's surely better to be sipping cappuccinos in Berlin, Sydney, Oslo or Tokyo than to be struggling to get a trustworthy translator, let alone a safe and decent meal in Lagos, Muscat, Baku or Xiamen. Allies have the delightful virtue of telling America over and over again how great and “indispensable” the U.S. is. No wonder then that American diplomats frequently sound like they are representatives of allied countries when they recoil at the straightforward concept of putting “America first.” This sentiment pervades Andrew Taffer's recent rejoinder that argues that America had better not consider any serious tweaks to the U.S.-Republic of Korea (ROK) Alliance, lest they and other allies have some doubts about American staying power in the Pacific.
Taffer is critical of a piece I published here advocating that U.S. troop levels should be “on the table” for the Singapore summit and in subsequent negotiations about denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula. He and I evidently agree on a few things, at least. He concedes that there is a “need to offer Pyongyang incentives for it to abandon its nuclear program” and, moreover, that “given the gravity of the threat posed by the North’s nuclear capabilities, particularly meaningful inducements . . . may be warranted.” In common with many proponents of the status quo in U.S. foreign policy that sets up alliances as sacrosanct, Taffer is much better at articulating what not to do, rather than what should actually be done (beyond reaffirming alliances). Nowhere in this piece does one find the preferable set of “particularly meaningful inducements” that Taffer would support. Perhaps he envisions some sanctions relief, a peace treaty, some security guarantees, a U.S. embassy and the like. It would be certainly nice if Kim Jong-un would congenially denuclearize under such conditions, but I have serious doubts that such measures will deliver the holy grail of the complete, verifiable, and irreversible, denuclearization (CVID) of North Korea. Unfortunately, a peace deal that substantially undershoots Kim's objectives is almost certain to flounder and disappoint over the long term, bringing the region right back around to the precipice of major conflict once again.
Taffer regrettably ignores most of the substance of my original essay. In addition to not specifying what carrots he favors instead, he does not address the conventional balance (or lack thereof) that is at the very heart of my argument. Presumably, he does not contest the fact that the ROK military—which has the pick of the best weapons on the planet from tanks to submarines to fighters —is far superior to North Korea's armed forces that have obsolete tanks; aircraft that can't fly due to lack of fuel; and soldiers that are poorly fed. He is not much bothered evidently that U.S. bases would be among the first targets of nuclear attack in a war situation. Perhaps he should spend some time in Seoul meeting, as I have recently, with some of the American soldiers that are given the mission of serving as “trip wires”—e.g., those sacrificed early in the conflict for the good of the alliance. As a social scientist, Taffer does not seem to understand the concept of the “security dilemma” in which the very strength of the U.S.-ROK alliance itself could have provoked sufficient fears in North Korea that it caused it to develop nuclear weaponry in the first place. Despite being one of the world’s poorest countries and thoroughly outmatched by their eminently successful cousins to the south, that security dilemma forms a major reason why North Korea continues its nuclear program.
However, the biggest problem with Taffer’s rendering is the Cold War lenses through which he views the Korean Peninsula. As he makes clear in the last paragraph of his story, his real concern is not the Korean Peninsula, but rather the perceived threat of “Chinese revisionism.” He reveals the heart of his worries in discussing the South China Sea, wherein he argues that America’s “anemic response” to aggressive Chinese moves has precipitated doubts about U.S. power throughout the Asia-Pacific region. As seems to be the regrettable fashion among young U.S. strategists, Taffer appears to view Korea as a distraction from the main issues surrounding maritime disputes in the East and South China Seas. However, such a perverse logic mysteriously puts the fate of various rocks over the lives of hundreds of millions of people in Northeast Asia—people who are yearning for a sustainable way out of the present nuclear crisis on the Korean Peninsula. What happens, Taffer warns, when there is a “more difficult challenge from a far more capable China?” Does he really believe that the home territory—or home islands—of allied states like Philippines, Japan, and South Korea are likely to be invaded by China? Taffer’s zero-sum analysis is nothing but a breath of stale air from the 1950s.